#comte if you ask me one more time i will not be held responsible for my actions

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Comte Drama CD Translations, Track Four: A Gentlemanly Escort

Once again folks, I am not a professional don't try this at home, these are just my rough transcriptions of each track in the CD because I need fodder for my simping. More beneath the cut, since most of these are pretty long, don't wanna clog anyone's dash:

So after Comte and MC go shopping for a dress, they leave for the party they're attending that night. This track begins with their arrival to the venue.

Every time we arrive at a ball together, it makes me remember when we stepped into your debutante side by side. There’s no need to thank me. …You were the one who dared to enter a new world, and that boldness attracted the people around you. All I did was lend a helping hand. …But I did enjoy decorating you with my own hands, styling your hair beautifully. The excitement I felt that night is still fresh in my heart… I was a little jealous when the eyes of the men all around you would linger, my dear. Come a little closer, I’d like to ward off their gazes. It’s best to show that you belong to me like this.

The way I went from awwww to clutches pearls lustfully 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 he is just the perfect mix of "that's adorable" and "oh. i like that--"

It’s time to dance. (When you listen to the audio he literally says: "HO? DANCE TIME" I'M DYING) My lady (OJOU-SAN!!!!!!), would you do me the honor of your hand…and join me for this dance? Come now, surrender yourself to an exciting and sweet night Beneath a dazzling chandelier, hands enfolded like this… Tucking our hips together, eyes on each other, stepping to the rhythm of the music, …my heart is always racing at times like these. (AWWWWWWWW)

I swear this man invented romance, what a smooth criminal. Although I can't lie, I love when he's charming 🥰 (I just love his honest self even more!)

Now, listen carefully to the waltz triplet/triple time… Un, deux, trois, un, deux, trois…on the first turn, turn right Yes…you executed that turn beautifully You seemed a lot more relaxed, spine straight. You did just as I taught you. Since we’re on the topic of dancing, men’s roles are often compared to frames. As a pair, they’re termed the Flower and the Frame The insinuation is that a man must lead a woman, who is the “flower” in order to make her movements shine as brightly as possible. So right now…my mission is to make you bloom the most beautifully on this dance floor. …I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You shine more beautifully than anyone else.

I love this bit just because I was like "lore. IS THAT LORE???? WOOOOOO GIMME THE L O R E" but also incredibly interesting when it comes to gender roles and Comte. Only because a lot of his content manifests at this fascinating crossroads: he's been raised under these sorts of conventions so, on some level, he acts on them without thinking. He also lives under the current impression that that's what people expect from him in the present to gain their approval. Yet, how he actually conceives of a significant other and how he is in private make for a disconnect by comparison.

(If I'm not being perceived, do I exist? Is honestly the uncharted territory that's saturated with so much intrigue for me when it comes to Comte)

Because when he feels comfortable being himself in more private settings/moments he calls MC his "life partner" (and is very adamant about regarding her in equal terms), and he tends to be the more relationally/socially/emotionally savvy of the two (which are qualities often relegated to women). I think I particularly enjoy the way he tries so hard to cultivate a working image of "a proper man" because he's just so accustomed to it for survival; he's doing it on a level of awareness and unawareness, all while believing something entirely different. It makes for such a vivid character study, a very realistic intersection of lived experiences and unspoken feelings.

Also. "You shine more beautifully than anyone else." stares into the distance with so many feelings. I just have such a fondness for the way he can be so silly and so smooth, but in the depths of his heart he's so truly in love. tackles him

Oh, the next turn is a bit tricky, so be careful. I’ll give you the signal…un, deux, trois, now, to the left… Yes, that’s it~ (HE’S HAVING FUN SOBS) My goodness…have you gotten so good at dancing I can hardly recognize you? Compared to when we first started, you don’t look away shyly as much as you used to. Every time I dance with you, I can see how much you improve Ah…I’m sure we’ve practiced quite a bit at home, but more than that, it’s the result of your endless effort.

I thought it was cute to see some of MC's growth here c: he's sweet to compliment her~

I would be honored…if you were trying to get better for the sake of dancing with me. I really enjoy dancing with you, too. When you’re in my arms, it makes my heart flutter to see you moving as smoothly as a bird flapping its wings. And every time our eyes meet, my heart tightens so sweetly in my chest. …None of my childhood tutors ever told me that dancing with someone else could feel this way. (HE SEEMS????? SO GENUINELY CONFUSED?????? TEARS IN MY EYES BABY NO) You’re the one who taught me the most important part about dancing Thank you

Aight but this was the part that hit me straight in the kokoro. So many things here I want to touch on (other than him ofc)

The way he seems so...genuinely, almost demure? In that first line? So 👉👈 about her trying to keep pace with him, trying to meet him halfway. It's even sweeter to me considering it's something that he really enjoys, so the idea that MC would want to learn because she wants to share it with him and make it more fun for him is so 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 (personally I love dancing so this is a hard mood). Ig I'm so softe for how he's like 'not that that has to be the reason, but if it was I would be so happy.' (of course it's for you king, everything I do is for you because you're the sweetest 😚💜💜💜💜💜💜💜)

The way?????? He describes her enjoying herself??????? I. I'm not really sure if it's something specific to me, but I found it really moving. I don't know if it's the fact that he appreciates how much effort she puts into things, or this implicit like...recognition of her as her own person?? It's a little funny, it's going back to that contradictory idea I mentioned a bit ago. He's operating within the conceptualization of "the Flower and the Frame" but he's taken the conventional meaning and expanded/changed it, in a way. While he does recognize his role in it, part of it is operating more in line with the real parts of his personality: he thinks people who are talented and try hard at things are beautiful, and he likes to support them however he can. (There is an implication here that he assumes he's not special in quite the same way which makes me 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 pls Comte, I think a considerate and mindful person is just as wonderful)

And then that last part. Like. Do you ever just want to stick your head into a volcano because that's where I'm at ladies and gentlemen. The absolute heartache????? The agony inside me, the way he seems so earnestly surprised that one of the few things he did enjoy could feel even better, that it could take on an entirely new meaning. That, where it was once a way to pass the time or entertain people, now it has become something charged with so much love. The way a relationship is being deeply in tune with someone, and how dancing together can bring out the full potential/another permutation of that building synergy. The way, for lack of better phrasing, he falls in love with her a little more each time they dance together. (JUST BURY ME IN THE BACKYARD AIN'T NOBODY GONNA LOVE ME LIKE THIS)

The little sincere "thank you" at the end, the very real gratitude to be able to experience that. That she would gift him that. GOD I AM SO UNWELL, RICH BOY STOP DOING THIS TO ME!!!!! "A heart is a heavy burden" ass mf 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I'm sorry I'm just that meme where I'm carrying him away from all those purebloods/aristocrats that make him feel like life is just one elongated and tiresome performance. Let me love him Crybird I'm fragile

…that went by so quickly. (IM YELLING HE’S SAD ITS OVER) Dancing with you is so much fun I find time just gets away from me all together. Well, let’s take to the floor again later and enjoy a little break for now. Are you thirsty? …Then I’ll get us some champagne, so please wait here. ---

And now we interrupt Minnie's sappy pining with a champagne break, we'll be back shortly.

Although man, he's like a little kid when he gets to dance--it's so cute??? The way he gets so excited, the way he's so clearly sad it's over despite this probably being like the hundredth time.

The implications. How he mentions that an eternity seems insurmountably long (and even after he runs the mansion, he felt that way), but dancing with her makes "time get away from [him]." What if I disappeared mysteriously into the ocean never to be see again

And his consideration for her, taking a break even though he could probably go for another song 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Sorry for the wait…Oh, who might this be? ("O Y A?" OMFG THE WAY HE’S LIKE 'bicc. Who u.' CRYING HIS TONE CHANGES SO FAST) …I see. Alas, she is my lover. I’m sorry, but could you give up on seeking her for a dance? Tonight is a special night, and I don’t intend to share her with anyone. It seems I can’t take my eyes off you for a single moment, that you were propositioned while I was only a few steps away. (Comte: NO TALK MC I'M A N G Y) I shouldn’t have let you go for a moment, even when the song was over.

…I don’t mind if you find it overprotective. I have no intention of concealing my possessiveness towards you. I won’t let it go like I used to. I decided to be more direct about my feelings when we agreed to be together. No matter who it is, I intend to proudly claim you as my lover. (O//O) …More, come closer. There is still another man interested in you. I’m in trouble if I don’t protect my beautiful lover from the likes of these opportunists.

Comte possessive and jealous makes brain go brrrrr, I regret to inform you all that--[obnoxiously loud Windows error sound]. Honestly it's hot every time I got nothing more to add, horny longing, awooga noises, be still my beating [redacted] etc.

…I think I’m full of contradictions. (LAUGHS AT HIMSELF BUT ALSO MURDER) I want to show off my beautiful lover, but I also don’t want anyone else to look at you. And when I look at you, my heart is at war between reason and instinct. …It takes everything I have just to hold back. …Is it repulsive/do you regret us now? I wouldn’t hold it against you if you said something like that. Then…shall we take our leave for some time alone? I’m not joking, I’m entirely serious. I always want you…

First of all Comte, contradiction is my kink (apparently?????? I am The Bearer of the Curse) so write that down. Second of all--

I love MC having the same brainrot as Comte stans of like 'oh no you being just a smidge yan is actually ungodly sexy and exactly what I signed up for, so dw about it 👍🏼.' I applaud Crybird for giving the people what they want. Although it makes me a little sad when he thinks he's too much/needy, I always want to pat him 🥺💜 I know who I married Comte CMERE

Also it will never stop being funny to me the way he's deadass that meme of the dog with the tennis ball/frisbee. It's hilarious every single time. Comte is seriously out here like:

Comte: Meet MC? Meet my lovely wife whom I cherish and is beautiful in every way conceivably possible?

Person: I like her too

Comte: NO TAKE ONLY PERCEIVE!!!! NO PERCEIVE ONLY SCRAM!!!!!!

Like this is peak comedy 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I really do love how much Crybird has fun with the purebloods in the sense that they can be so mature but also a bit childish??? He's so adorably petulant and petty in these moments it's hard not to coo.

Also the way he always wants her like he hasn't seen her in 17 years every single time. I LOVE THE UNADULTERATED AND UNMITIGATED YEARNING!!!!!!!!!!!! I ALWAYS WILL!!!!!!!

Aight that's it for this CD track, but the upcoming one is the hank pank. Until next time everyone, hope you enjoyed this ???th installment of Minnie's Brainrot Hours.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp mc #not incorrect quotes #drama cd translation #**lies down on the floor** #do you ever just have so many feelings....... #i'd give my left kidney to dance with him just ONCE #'do you regret marrying me?' #comte if you ask me one more time i will not be held responsible for my actions #narrator voice: actions include “jumping him every waking moment and babying him” #“and/or redacted whatever the mood brings in the moment im not stingy” #but at the same time #**holds him gently in my arms** its okay gorgeous your vibes are immaculate and your companionship is invaluable #there's no one else but you for me

[klutzyroses]

IkeVamp HCs: Virgin S/O

How do they react when they find out their s/o is a virgin during their first time and was embarrassed to say anything?

Suitors: Napoleon, Arthur, Comte, Charles

Warnings: NSFW, loss of virginity, Minors DNI

He froze when Y/N let it slip that she had never been with a man before. And she decided to tell him this now?

Napoleon

He hovered over her for a second, his eyes watching her nervous orbs twinkling with trepidation and...appeared a little glassy.

He had noticed she seemed hesitant to take off her clothes and he had assumed it was because she was nervous that it was her first time with him as his lover.

Not her first time at all.

He reached down and held her face in his hands, looking into her eyes with a stern look. He wasn't mad, or disappointed, he was just... concerned.

"Nunuche...why didn't you say anything?"

"I...I just...It's embarrassing and I don't know what to do and...I.."

His heart panged a little when he saw the mist in her eyes thicken with shame.

He found it worrisome that she would lie about this, luckily, they had only just gotten through foreplay when she made her accidental confession.

He would've felt terrible if he had only found out after it was all said and done.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. Nothing at all."

He pressed his forehead to hers, sighing.

"Geez, don't lie to me about this kind of thing. I could've hurt you, nunuche."

He won't say it, but he feels a bit proud, to be her first and her last, which is why he will be sure to be gentle with her and make it special, so that he can show her just how much she means to him.

Arthur

Um...do we remember what Arthur said in his first chapter? Because Y/N most certainly did.

Which was why when Arthur had her under him, his dexterous fingers sliding under her panties to feel her wetness as he slipped the first in slowly, he paused when he felt something...unusual.

Y/N watched the slight confusion swimming through the sapphire eyes before they widened with the realization that he had just made contact with her fully in tact hymen.

"Y/N...?"

"I...Arthur...um..."

She stuttered and bit her lip, trying to come up with an excuse. She flinched when he levelled her with a slightly hurt look that caused her to tear up.

"You could've told me, you know?"

"B...But you said...you preferred..."

Now it was Arthur's turn to flinch. Yes, he remembered what he had said the first night they met. There were so many things he did wrong that night and it seems one of the things he said stuck with his beloved long after the fact.

"I thought if you knew, you wouldn't want to...I mean."

"Oh Y/N...Darling, no..."

The amount of kisses and cuddling she received contained every ounce of regret for putting those ideas in her pretty head.

"I'm sorry luv. Let me make it up to you. "

He slides his fingers through hers as he wipes away a stray tear.

"It'll hurt at first, but I promise, this will be an experience you won't forget in a long, long time."

And he most definitely made sure of that. Once the pain dissipated, Y/N is almost drowned in more ecstasy than she knew what to do with.

Comte

The master of the mansion had his suspicions but they weren't confirmed until he had asked her directly just as he started unlacing her dress for her.

He knows it's not... uncommon for people to lie about these things, and while it was easier for men to get away with it but women...

Indeed, it'd be quite difficult to lie successfully about her virginity.

Which is why he asked in the first place, running a finger down the line of her back, tickling her smooth skin.

When met with her uneasy silence, he sighed and gently turned her to face him.

"Had I not asked, would you have told me yourself, ma cherie?"

The slow shake of her head caused a flicker of sadness to mar his visage as he caressed her cheek.

"Ma cherie, that isn't very responsible. You should tell me these things."

"I always wanted...to give it up to someone special...like you and now I feel...It's pathetic!"

Having travelled to her time before, he was somewhat aware that there was something of a stigma around women maintaining their virginity past a certain age, so he understood where she was coming from...but still...

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, ma beaute. I'm actually honored that you deem me worthy of being your first. But please be more honest about it. I loathe to think what would have happened had I hurt you out of ignorance."

He tucked her hair behind her ear, cupping her soft red cheek with a tender smile.

He would take care of her and make it the best she would ever experience. After all, he had every intention of not just being the first, but also the last.

Charles

Unfortunately, by the time Charles realized that his belle was as untouched as freshly laid snow, he was already inside her....oops.

He just taken notice of the pain all over Y/N's beautiful face and froze in his place before becoming aware of the ominous slickness down there. One glance at the bit of bleeding sent a chill down his spine as it hit him.

"Y...Y/N, you're a...I'm sorry, I didn't realize!"

He is so apologetic, peppering kisses all over her teary face as she shakily lets out a few whimpers, each one sending a cut into his heart.

"You...didn't realize...because I didn't tell you. It's not...your fault."

Her squeaky, pained reassurance did little to assuage his worries.

Charles remained as still as could be, not wanting to tear or break anything else. His large, cat-like eyes were wide, mournful and his lover feared he would also start crying.

"B...But why didn't you, now you're bleeding! I'm so sooo sorry!"

"I...I just felt...I thought it was embarrassing. I never did this before, because I wanted...to give it to someone who loved me and I know that you're more experienced than me and I..."

She couldn't continue before she had to bite down on her lip to restrain another onslaught of pained noises. She got her point across though, because Charles understood.

"Please don't be embarrassed! It's really sweet and I'm really happy you're letting me be the one to...Just...please don't lie to me anymore..."

Now, he actually did look like he was going to cry, nuzzling her like a love starved kitten, his tongue darting out to flick away a tear on her cheek.

Y/N swallowed thickly as she responded with a jerky nod.

Charles was always going to smother her with love, but now, she might as well have been gold. He will bend over backwards to make sure her first time with him would be earth shattering to make up for the pain.

🌸

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp comte #ikevamp charles #ikevamp headcanons

[scummy-writes]

I'm going to make this its own post instead of on an ask game reply, since I want to try and gauge interest better!

This is a wip I have for Comte and Mc exploring the more interesting side of some parties Comte takes her to. It's around 500 words, explicit (mdni), and deals with Comte showing her off.

-------

“Don’t look at them, ma cherie. Keep your focus on me.”

The deep breath you took was done shakily, closing your eyes as Comte’s careful hands brushed your hair over your shoulder. The shine along your hair was reflecting the deep red of the lights in the room, and all around the two of you were quiet whispers and amused murmurs as you stood there, trembling, hands pressed firmly against the glass window Comte had led you to.

When you ventured another glance into the small crowd before you, every touch from Comte seemed to sap more of your reason as he took his damned time stripping the layers of clothes he had so dutifully helped you into before this party. The rustling of fabric faded into the background, your breath sounding louder to yourself than anything else happening. Everywhere you looked at an attempt to anchor your mind in your surroundings, you were met with the gazes of those watching. 

With the dimly lit room, you couldn’t make out the features of any in the crowd, only the masks they wore. There was a faint wish that you could be granted such a luxury, for no one to recognize you with the intricate masquerade mask of your own- but Comte had been flaunting you on his arm to parties, the same parties that most nobles here now had hosted, for months. There was no doubt who you were, not with Comte lavishing all his attention on you.

And all their masks were pointed towards you, for that very reason. There were plenty of other sections in this area with glass sectioning their inhabitants away from the crowds in the vast room, but it felt as though every single pair of eyes were focused on you, even the ones from others seeking to amuse themselves.

They were all so determined to not miss a moment of this show Comte was intent on giving them.

“Comte…”

No matter how red your cheeks threatened to become, you knew that the moment you asked him to, or showed any discomfort, that he would stop without any further hesitation. He would wrap you up in his coat and call this display to an end.

Yet as he undid the lacing on the back of your dress, kissing each spot of skin it revealed the further he went, the shivers running along your body just wished for more. Your shy tendencies ebbed away the more he undressed you, and by the time your outfit finally dropped down from your frame, pooling around your ankles, you stood there; completely bare save for the jewelry and mask you wore, shivering in delight. Could they see just how wet you had become? Your thighs pressed together, seeking at least a hint of friction against your throbbing clit, but Comte was quick to shove his shoe between your feet. Dutifully, you parted your legs again without having to be told, feeling your body heat up from a mixture of embarrassment and exhilaration.

“Do you see all their eyes on you?” His breath warmed the shell of your ear as he pressed his chest against your back, hands on your hips as he held you in place.

“Is this- ah!” You sucked in a gasp as his fingers spread open your lower lips.

“Let’s show them how, exactly, you belong to me, shall we?”

------

This was originally a wip response to a kinktober request, until I realized I had misunderstood the kink requested. After that and being told it was underwhelming, I threw it on the backburner. It is not finished.

I wanted to gauge interest because every time I think of the kinktober requests I have, I end up thinking about this, and debate revisiting it later on. And if not, at least it's saved in post form, haha!

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire comte #and now I feel minorly less guilty over not posting fanfic for a while! #sorry its taking me so long lately. #wips

[dalishious]

Running Commentary: The Masked Empire Ch 11 & 12

TL;DR: Briala, Celene, Michel and Felassan find themselves at the Dalish Clan Virnehn's camp. Michel discovers that the clan has summoned Imshael the Choice Spirit, demanding the spirit give them they key to unlock the eluvians. He, Celene, Briala, and Felassan make a deal with Imshael to get this key for themselves.

—————

The morning after getting rescued by the Dalish, the Keeper of Clan Virnehn, Thelhen, is none to happy about Felassan bringing the group here, and is rather rude to Briala, calling her a "stray". He asks if she's at least a mage, but since she isn't, he questions her worth. (Yet another point against the stupid retcon in DA:I saying that the Dalish don't like mages.)

Briala tries to explain that the Keeper has the opportunity to help the elves of Orlais, but is met with a horrible response.

Briala stood up straighter. “The elves of Orlais have suffered, Keeper. If Grand Duke Gaspard comes to power, they will suffer even more. If you help restore Empress Celene, you will save many of your people in the alienages of Orlais.” Thelhen shut his eyes and looked away from her. “Abelas, da’len,” he said quietly, “but I have no people in the alienages of Orlais.” Briala sat quietly then, and listened to the argument while she looked around the camp. The great wagons, the aravels, were arranged in a circle like the buildings of a small town. She could pick out the purpose of some of them. One held bows and a fletcher’s tools; not far from it, Dalish children practiced shooting arrows at stump-targets painted like men. Near another aravel, crates were filled with vegetables, while smoked meat hung nearby, and behind a third wagon, Dalish warriors swung wooden blades at target dummies. Briala tracked their motions and saw that the drills were the same as she had seen a hundred times at Celene’s family estate or in Val Royeaux. They were not her people. The words should have hurt, but Briala felt empty instead. She looked at elven children laughing and playing, elven hunters joking about their skill, elven cooks singing old songs while their apprentices cleaned up the dishes from breakfast. Through the open door of one of the wagons, she could see an old couple sleeping, snoring softly. There were no princesses, no Fade spirits whisking through the aravels to do the laundry, but it was still more than she could have ever dreamed of. None of them ducked their heads or watched with concern for the humans. None of them feared a human walking into their camp to cause trouble. And they let the alienages burn, because the elves in the alienages were not their people.

Naturally, Briala is heartbroken.

Felassan is able to persuade Thelhen to let Briala roam the camp freely, while Michel remains tied up and Celene under guard until she wakes up. (Mihris, First of the clan, is working on healing her).

While Michel is tied up, a Dalish warrior taunts him with threats, but it doesn't work very well, because Michel is too giddy over being called "shemlen". But then, a magic spell falls over everyone nearby, and Michel himself feels drawn to it, while no one stops him. He's led to a trapped spirit that calls himself Imshael.

Imshael explains how there is a network of magical mirrors known as eluvians that allows you to travel through the "in-between place" to reach destinations that would otherwise take days riding in the waking world. (Basically what Morrigan explains in DA:I.) Imshael says that Keeper Thelhen trapped him in a binding circle, demanding the key to awaken the eluvian network, but Imshael offers to make a deal with Michel instead.

Imshael chuckled. “Honest man. Well, mostly. What if I told you that if you found me a mortal and got him to put his bleeding palm to one of these damned stones, I would make the story of Ser Michel de Chevin true?” Michel blinked. “How?” “More effectively than your patron, Comte Brevin, bribing a forger.” Imshael grinned, and his beady eyes glittered among a field of old laugh-lines. “A few spirits whispering in a few dreams. A few documents falsified by men who will never remember doing so. The next time one of Gaspard’s bards goes digging, she finds that Michel de Chevin is exactly who he says he is, and living men will swear by the sadly absent Maker that they remember growing up with you, the noble and honest and entirely human Ser Michel.” “And in return?” “I’d get to leave this damned circle and live inside the man who bled on the stone.” Imshael took a deep, happy breath. “It’s been some time since I got to see the world. I’d like to look around a bit.”

Michel declines this, but gets the idea that Celene could use the eluvian network to win against Gaspard.

Meanwhile, Celene tries to convince Thelhen to help her. It doesn't go very well, lmao...

“Once Gaspard is put down,” she said, “I can ensure that the Dalish gain a new measure of respect in Orlais, and we look forward to learning from your wisdom. We already have elves attending our universities, and it would be an honor to allow your people to visit.” “You do not have the strength to fight this Gaspard,” the ancient hearthmistress said, her cracked voice laced with skepticism, “yet you think to offer us help?” “Power accumulates,” Celene said with confidence, “like a snowball rolling down a hill. I do not need you to fight Gaspard for me. I only need you to use your skills to help me reach Val Royeaux before Gaspard does. Once I do that, Gaspard will have no chance to oppose me, and I will crush hisrebellion and put him to death.” “Leaving you free to break your promises,” the warleader said, “like the humans before you.” The Keeper waved him to silence. “You would have me risk the lives of my clan to help smuggle you past your rival’s soldiers, and in return, you offer what? A chance to visit your buildings?” Celene wanted a drink, but reminding them that she was at their mercy would weaken her place in the discussion. “I don’t know what you want, Keeper. If you have a proposal, I can certainly—” “You destroyed the greatest empire this land has ever seen!” The warleader stepped forward, fist drawn back. “And when our people banded with Andraste to gain freedom from Tevinter, you betrayed us again!” She sat unflinching before his anger, then turned to the Keeper. “This discussion is unlikely to change the past,” she said. “If you have a request, name it.” “You do not understand,” the Keeper said. He gestured again, and the warleader stepped back. “You ask us to speak logically, when our entire history is filled with your people betraying and degrading ours. You took our land, our culture, even our immortality.” “And you do not seem to understand the opportunity that has landed in your lap.” Celene glared at the warleader, then at the Keeper. “This is the time to demand reparations. Do you wish conditions improved for the elves in our cities? Free emigration to the Dalish clans?” Seeing their blank faces, she took a gamble. “Honorary lordship of Halamshiral and the surrounding lands?” She had gambled wrong. She saw that immediately as their shoulders drew back, the tattoos on their faces twisting as they grimaced in revulsion, but she couldn’t tell why.

Celene, of course, can't understand why these Dalish elves don't want things like lordship. But what's more, is she can't seem to understand why they have zero (0) reason to trust anything she offers anyways. As much as I don't like this clan overall, I do adore Thelhen and the wardleader's part in this conversation.

Michel then returns and explains to Celene what he's discovered.

Briala has a moment of reflection, first thinking of her mother and then her meeting Felassan, both of whom encouraged her to be proud of being an elf. She decides to dedicate herself to helping the elves of Orlais, even if no one else will.

Briala then returns to Celene and Michel, who explain their plan to take the eluvian network control for Celene's use. At first, Briala tries to convince them that they could perhaps work with the Dalish, but Celene is able to talk her into fighting against them, with a promise to make life better for the elves of Orlais, and give Briala a title.

“Help me return to Val Royeaux, and I will strike every law that limits your people’s freedom and make you a lady.” Celene smiled. “The Comtess of the Elves.”

What's so wild to me... is Briala actually believes her. Well, at least for now. Ha.

Briala goes to recruit Felassan to help them, and in their conversation, points out to Felassan that she's realized he isn't actually Dalish. He asks her if she wants his help, or answers to what his true nature is--she accepts his help.

Michel escapes, recovers his gear, and then goes on a rampage, killing elf after elf. After he defeats Mihris, she begs for mercy.

Spinning, he slammed his shield against the healer’s staff, and the shot she’d been aiming flared off into the trees, leaving a trail of falling hail in its wake. Michel’s sword came down and knocked the staff from her hands. “Please,” the girl said, stumbling back. “Please, don’t.” “You would have killed me.” Michel raised his blade. She shut her eyes. “You killed the man I love, back in the camp.” “One of the guards?” Michel wondered if it had been the youngest one, the one whose blade he’d taken after he opened the man’s throat. “He would have killed me as well. And you are an apostate. A mage outside the Circle.” The girl opened her eyes. Rain streaked her face. Michel could not tell if she was crying. “I am defenseless, shemlen. Where is your chevalier honor?” “Here,” Michel said, and brought his sword down.

(Mihris ends up surviving the blow, though.)

Michel regroups with Celene, Briala, and Felassan at the spirit trap circle where Imshael waits. Interestingly, he greets Felassan as if they've met before, which Felassan does in turn. Imshael gives them the key when Michel threatens to destroy the runes that are holding Imshael prisoner, idiotically thinking this will hurt the spirit. Then Michel destroys the runes anyway, which actually frees Imshael, because of course it does, you dumb son of a bitch!

Imshael tells them where the nearest eluvian is, then walks off to kill the rest of the Dalish camp.

#dragon age #the masked empire #tme commentary

[alby-rei]

Moonlight Waltz (Comte x Reader)

a/n: My dear Chase, this may come as a surprise since it’s been so long since you sent me your request! I know you like some angst in your reads, so I hope it’s to your liking! I combined the original prompt with one from @xxsycamore’s and @chaosangel767‘s Valentine event prompts, which greatly inspired me to write this story.

Wordless “I love you” Prompts #15: Calming them down when they have a bad dream

+ Be My Valentine Feb 11 Prompt: Dancing with each other while no one is around

[Requested by];  @crystal13unny​

[Characters]: You, Comte

[Word count]: ~800 words

[Tags]: established relationship, fluff, comfort, lil angsty Comte

~*~

The scratching sound of the fountain pen was le Comte’s only companion in his room, at the late hour he dedicated to responding to his letters. The stack beside him hailed from all sorts of connections he had made—some during the 19th century and some even older. The routine of it became a chore to him, but one that he intended to keep. Le Comte reminisced back to a time when receiving a letter was the highlight of his day, especially one that arrived from a friend abroad.

As time passed beyond the span of a human lifetime, his enthusiasm for letters from his human connections waned. More times than he would like to admit, letters from so-and-so friend would cease to arrive without explanation; or rather, without written explanation. How bittersweet it had become for him to wait for a response. The more he looked forward to it, the stronger was his grief when it never arrived. He would learn through experience that he would rather hold onto the hope of waiting than to seek the reason for their discontinued contact.

Ink dripped from le Comte’s pen, hovering frozen in place above the letter. He would need to restart, but he could not stand being in the room that had overfilled with his sorrowful thoughts. A change of scenery was in order.

You woke up in the middle of the night. Strange visions haunted your dreams and robbed you of the desire to go back to sleep. The silence in the halls indicated that most of the resident night owls retreated to their dens. With a drink in your hand and a book tucked under your arm, you pushed the lounge door open, surprised to find that the lights were already on. Peeking in, you caught sight of le Comte.

“Chérie. What brings you here so late in the evening?”

The head of the mansion sat relaxed into the cushions of the armchair, accompanied by a stack of letters on the coffee table in front of him. You sat across from him, setting your drink on the table a safe distance away from those important-looking letters he’s got.

“I could ask you the same,” you replied. “Looks like we had the same idea to do some nightly reading. What have you got there?”

“This is, hm…”

He pursed his lips as he looked back at the letter in his hand. There was a sad glint in his eyes, the way one looks at an old photograph in nostalgia.

He continued, “Oh, this collection contains all sorts of things; invitations, well wishes, and a few marriage proposals that were meant for Leonardo, but alas. They end up in my hands, all the same.”

“Sounds like a chore,” you remarked.

“For many people, that would be the case. But truly it makes me happy to receive news from my friends. But enough about me, what about you, dear? Are you alright?” Le Comte pushed the stack aside to give you his full attention.

You thought back to the nightmare that led you here. Much of your memory was blurry at best by now, which was probably a good thing.

“I woke up from a bad dream. I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I decided to find myself an evening distraction.”

You held up the book you picked up from the library. Comte’s eyes shone with recognition, and he shared with you how and where he had acquired it. He confessed that he hadn’t read it yet and asked if you would do him the honor of reading to him. You laughed sheepishly, not knowing what to say. Then, he walked towards the gramophone beside your couch.

“Would you care for a dance? It’s been so long since we’ve last danced together.”

“Right here? Won’t the music wake everyone up?” you asked.

“Rest assured that it will not,” he replied.  

Soft music streamed into the room, just loud enough to be heard in the lounge. Neither of you were particularly dressed for the occasion—barefoot and clad in nightwear fit for sleep. But he didn’t care about that when he extended his hand to you. Likewise, you accepted his hand with a curtsy.

Away from the furniture, the two of you swayed with the melody. His eyes sparkled with fondness for you the entire time, his past melancholies forgotten. Images of you in various dresses danced across his mind’s eye. Neither of you tired of dancing, even as the early rays of the morning slowly made their way through the tall windows.

Le Comte may not be able to put to rest his weary mind when it comes to his past, but he knows that he can look forward to a brighter future with you by his side.

#ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire comte #comte de saint-germain #ikemen vampire #ikevamp fanfic #comte x reader #comte x you #comte x mc #alby one-shots

[silvanable]

Idk if hcs are open and ignore me if it isnt!! Can i request an angsty ikevamp prompt? How would suitors react to an MC he likes who likes another suitor? Both suitor and MC's love can be unrequited, and MC could come to suitor to talk about her unrequited love. If you want to make it super angsty, MC could be suitor's first actual romantic interest in a very long time. Plz feel free to choose any suitor, but my favs are leo/comte. I love your writings :) thanks so much!

i know you said headcanons but i saw this as a perfect opportunity to slap down an angst filled fic because i’m not doing so hot and i can’t process emotions unless it’s written format. anyways, i hope you don’t mind!

i figured it was about time i got back to my roots, bringing the unholy angst back that started this blog— 

SO HAPPY THANKSGIVING AND WHY NOT WRECK CELEBRATE THE HOLIDAYS WITH A LITTLE ANGST, EH?

and everyone can cry with me because we all abso—fucking—lutely know that comte would sideline himself and his feelings for the better of others.

↪  GUIDELINES

✒ tags : unrequited love, comte x mc, mentioned mc x leonardo, angsty af, gn!reader mostly but love languages don’t have fucking gn terms

✒ warnings : n/a

✒ word count : 1740

It seemed this was some sort of punishment. It had to be, perhaps to make up for all the things he had done in his youth. Fitting, he would agree, but it did not lessen the pain.

Here you are, sitting in the garden with him.

A wistful sigh falls from your lips.

The things he would do to comfort you. To assure you that you were deserving of all admiration and love.

He would steal your breath with amorous kisses, only daring to relent when neither of you could last a moment longer without air. He would whisper every loving and reassuring word he could muster from his tongue. He would hold you close and keep you in his embrace until you understood how much he adored you.

He would do all these things because he loved you like any other before. You were intoxicating. The way you smiled brought warmth to his chest. The sound of your laughter was a melody he could never tire of. The scent of you was more intoxicating than any vintage wine that ever grazed his lips.

Without you, he was empty and hollow. You had brought the light back into his life. You had offered a hand to him and showed him a gentleness he believed he was undeserving of.

And perhaps he still was because your heart belonged to another.

Comte forced a small smile.

“Ma cherie,” He called your attention. Those beautiful eyes flickered away from the cup of tea in your hands and up to him. His heart still had not gotten used to such a sweet gaze upon him, yet now it was broken with sorrow.

“You said you wanted my advice on something?”

You pursed your lips in response. It seemed you were second-guessing yourself on the need to talk. Comte knew the expression you made all too well and offered a small, encouraging nod.

Another sigh escaped you, far heavier than the one before. “There’s… Someone I like and the problem is, well, they don’t seem to feel the same way.”

What a bitter irony of life.

“See,” You shifted, sitting up and twisted your hands in the hem of your sleeves, “It’s been a long time since I felt something for someone and… I don’t know— maybe I’m just over-analyzing it because they were nice.”

He understood, Comte understood entirely what you meant. After all, he was looking at the very person who had set a spark to his heart’s fire and he would never say a thing.

“Are you sure this mysterious suitor is just unaware of your affections?” He took a sip from the teacup in his hands. He tried to play it off calmly, to hold himself together.

Nothing was allowed to slip through his carefully crafted facade. It took decades to build such a gentlemanly persona and he would not allow himself to fall in shambles, back onto his old ways. No, he had to be a better man.

No matter how much this drove a knife into his chest.

You shrugged, defeated with a gesture of your hand. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because we’re just too different—personal—and don’t even get me started on time-traveling culturally!” An exasperated huff left you, somewhere between a broken laugh and squashed sob.

Comte said your name softly, “Surely there are things you have similar, things that drew you to this person,” He set the tea aside on the table between you both, “Have you confronted them about your feelings?”

As if he was one to talk about such a thing, with you just across from him, yet he hid a secret from you.

A growl of frustration erupted from your throat. “That’s the thing! I’ve tried so many times to find a good moment but any time I start, he somehow always manages to run away!” By now you were on your feet, angrily pacing through the gazebo.

“I mean, did I do something wrong? Is it because he’s a vampire and I’m not?” You vented, too caught in the whirlwind of your growing anger to notice the softness the pureblood gazed at you with.

He understood the fear of that commitment. You were mortal after all, he was not. No doubt the resident—who Comte had a growing suspicion of who, yet would not dare entertain the thought, not yet—feared their long life and falling for someone who would, eventually, pass away and leave them a broken heart.

He would love you nonetheless. If you were his, he would dare to turn you if you let him, so that he could have you to himself longer.

Selfish, yes, but if he had been fortunate enough to have your heart he would never want to let it go.

“Or is it because of the door? I don’t have to go back—hell! I’ve thought more than once these past few weeks about not going back!” You glared heatedly at the mansion. A gaze that was so fierce that the flames of it practically glowed in your eyes.

“But when I mention I might suddenly Leonardo—” Comte visibly flinched, you did not notice, “—is insisting that I go the moment I’m able when all I’ve been trying to tell him is I want to stay for him!”

How could you be so cruel and yet so gentle at the same time?

Comte had only wished you had never said his name, his closest friend. He could feel his heart twist, the ugly head of jealousy reared like a viper, but he forced it down.

He was a gentleman, one of the utmost kind.

Comte’s smile strained but to you, it was sympathetic. “You must understand, ma cherie, as pureblood vampires things are different for us.”

“Yes and?” You turned to Comte, expression twisted and asking to explain how any of that mattered. How did being different like that matter so much when you were so enamored with him that you were willing to give up everything you knew just to be with him.

“Does he not want me and just doesn’t want to tell me?” Your voice welled with emotion suddenly, “Does he think it’s sparing my feelings instead of telling me straight?” Tears gathered in your eyes.

It was painful to see you becoming so unraveled. At that moment, it took all his strength to remain poised and still, to not reach over and take you into his arms and kiss away all of your tears. But he could not be the jealous man, it was not his place, because he was not your lover. He was nothing but your host and he had to remain the courteous host for you. 

 And now of all times, he damned himself for taking that position, because it meant he would never have you.

“Perhaps he believes that not telling you will spare you of forcing your decision, of stealing the life you have ahead of you.” And to protect you from the heartache I feel now.

You sank back into your seat. A disheartened sigh fell from your lips as you put your head in your hands. “What should I do?” You lifted your head to look at Comte.

He could not resist your gaze, the way your beautiful eyes plead with him. He wanted to see that stunning smile of yours again, the one that brightened his days, the one he cherished in his dreams.

It was decided at that moment, he would see your smile again. Even if it meant he had to break his heart to have you happy. To see you happy was all he wanted.

“Let me speak with Leonardo,” He prayed you had not heard the jealousy hidden in his chest in his voice, “I’m sure I can find what is troubling my friend and spare you from any further pain.” He leaned forward, taking your hand in his.

If he could freeze time he would have, to engrave this moment in space and never let it pass. The warmth of your hand in his. How the light returned to your face with newfound hope. The sparkle in your eyes. Everything, he wanted to remember everything about you at this moment forever and preserve it.

Alas, time was fleeting, and moved on despite his desperate wishes. So he had to keep the memory, tucked away somewhere close to his heart, never to leave him even with the wear of time.

“You would?” The eager hopefulness in your voice was heart-wrenching.

“Of course, ma cherie,” He patted your hand before he reluctantly withdrew his touch, “This is an issue you have with one of my residents and I would not be a decent host to let these problems fester when they affect you so.”

You were absolutely beaming, a bright smile that could rival the sun’s own warmth and light. It was something he wished he could have basked in for eternity.

“Thank you so much, Comte,” You jumped from your seat, throwing your arms around him.

The action was so sudden it had taken him by surprise and yet before he could process and return the gesture, you drew away again.

“Thank you!” You repeated, gathering up the dishes from your tea chat, “I should go help Sebastian with dinner.” Your tone was practically ecstatic as you moved back towards the path to the mansion.

All the while Comte only smiled at you. Yet as your figure grew further and further away, fading into the gardens lush greenery, his smile began to gradually fall.

That facade of a caring, gentlemanly host shattered the moment you were gone. Emotions erupted from the tight fist that had held them at bay. Comte pressed a hand to his mouth, restraining the sounds of sorrow that threatened to burst from him. Amber eyes welled with unshed tears.

Emotions rushed over him like a tidal wave. There was no moment to breathe, not a chance to catch himself. No, these feelings grabbed hold of him and dragged him under. He would drown in them and nothing could save him now.

Comte swallowed hard and his eyes fluttered close.

The sky grew darker as time passed him by in silence.

He took a shaky breath and steadied himself, dropping his hand into his lap, as he regained his composure.

“For you,” His voice betrayed the emotions under the calm face, “For you, ma cherie, and your smile.”

#i'm here to bring the hurt #HAPPY HOLIDAYS HERE'S THE ANGST #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikemen vampire leo #ikevamp comte #ikevamp leonardo #comte de saint germain #leonardo da vinci #ikemen vampire x reader #comte x reader #x reader #ikevamp angst #ikevamp fic #unrequited love #hurt fic #all aboard the angst train #angst fic

[ikevamp-shrine]

Thank you @yanderepuck​ for giving me the courage to post this😊❤

Please ignore the crappy drawing of her, but that's kinda what she appears like in my mind. I will be writing with her character in future posts.

Name: Elizabeth Tudor

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Height: 5’4

Birthday: September 7th

Occupation: Former Queen of England

Appearance: 

Long, curly (and extremely thick) strawberry blonde hair, fair skin, red lips, and intense icy blue eyes. Her stance is strong, regale, and respectable. Her skin is littered with smallpox scars (only a few, very unnoticeable ones residing on her face, neck, and hands). Her expression is usually blank and unreadable. Her movements are controlled and polite. Her brows thick and stomach soft. Legs long and fingers thin and graceful. There are patches of freckles on her shoulders that mix with her scars causing a unique blend of color. Thick thighs and pale, maintained feet. Smaller breasts.

Childhood:

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

She was taught a rigorous education normally only given to male heirs and was applauded for her perseverance and memory. She became fluent in French and Italian which profited when conducting diplomacy years later. Her involvement with the Reformation shaped the course of the nation, but she held no interest in religion.

With her father’s death, her step mother married the lord high admiral, Thomas, which resulted in his decapitation due to his intent to rape and impregnate Elizabeth forcing her to marry him in order for him to rule the kingdom. He was said to be overly flirtatious and acting inappropriately familiar with the young girl when around her (which one of the reasons she doesn’t like Arthur, his flirtatious nature reminds her of her past).

She was raised around sexism and taught that women were likely to act on impulsion and passion making them unfit to rule. Men were taught the arts of war and told they are the ones who dominate women while women were urged to keep their head down, mouth shut, and attend their needlework. She had remained unmarried, her want to remain single overshadowing any thoughts of seeking out relations with a man. She was rumored to have burst out in tears when Queen Mary, her older sister, had proposed to marry Elizabeth to a duke. This became a national concern when Elizabeth became queen and refused to take a husband, going against the belief that a woman’s place was a wife. It also raised worries that she would die childless, ending her bloodline, and giving Elizabeth’s title to Mary, Queen of Scots, a catholic posing a threat to the Protestants of England.

Dislikes: 

her privacy being intruded on, loud talking, 3am, those who play weak and stupid or whine to get what they want, people who are lazy but still expect to reach their goals, women who chase men and believe they need a man to be successful in life, messy rooms, fake personalities and cheaters (in both games and relationships)

Likes: 

walks in the garden at midnight, the sound of the birds singing their life’s song as the warmth of the day’s first rays of sun trace her skin, reading, learning new things, burning candles, smiling faces, happy children, the smell of freshly baked bread, warm blankets, animals, the laughter of children, hunting, dancing, and horseback (bareback more often than naught)

Personality: 

She appears cold at first because of her bluntness and blank (almost annoyed) expression. Unreasonably serious with a strong sense of duty, responsibility, and morals. She is a firm believer in working harder than everyone else to achieve greatness. A highly intelligent woman that believe women are equal to their male counterpart. Extremely stubborn in a non-disrespectful way. She is adaptable, disciplined, dignified, and confident with a wit and tongue as sharp as, if not sharper, than any of the residents. She is blunt, doesn’t sugarcoat the truth, and is always honest. Focused, logical, and exceedingly loyal to those she decides to put her trust in. She is protective and straightforward but rather quiet. She tends to keep to herself. She is paranoid and distrustful when meeting new people but will not show it. She tries to work on it, but she can be very vengeful when it comes to people betraying her or hurting those she loves.

Preferred company: 

Theo, Leonardo, Isaac, Jean, Vincent

Relationships (platonic, romantic, etc.):  

Jean- platonic with a chance of something more

Has a deep understanding with Jean. They don’t really talk about each other to each other; their conversations mainly consist of stiff, dead toned jokes that you wouldn’t be able to tell they were jokes until specified. She is one of the few people that has actually seen a sober Jean smile. He is extremely protective of her and will stand behind her just so he has the peace of mind that her back is guarded. If she asked, he would show her what is under his eye patch, no matter what lingering emotions he has on the ‘ugliness under the fabric’. His blade is always ready, his mind perfectly clear, when it comes to the safety and well being of the woman he had found himself connecting to in ways no one had before. Often, they go horse back riding together, Napoleon will sometimes accompany but its only when her and the former solider are alone does she throw her head back, her laughs unrestrained while the wind rips through her hair and clothing. Jean will race her and chuckle at how free she looks, but of course she doesn’t hear. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Napoleon  

Mozart- platonic

Sometimes Mozart look for her and demand Elizabeth to listen to his new piece until she raises an eyebrow, daring him not to correct his wording. He’ll swallow thickly and glance off to the side, a scoff on his lips as he apologizes. She’ll nod and follow him to music room. Mozart will stare at her impatiently until she gives her honest (and extremely blunt) opinion. He values her words and while alone the pianist will replay the slight quirk of her lips as she praised his efforts. He has a small obsession with her and it drives him insane

Vincent- brotherly platonic and Theo- they horny for each other but don’t want to cross that line of friendship so they dance around their feelings while making out every once in a while

Has a soft spot for Theo and Vincent because their relationship makes her think of her brother. She only sees Vincent as a brother and will only allow him to do her makeup when he asks to, but with Theo its completely different. She sees Theo as a partner, a man she shares many values and goals with. She respects him and their shared opinions on responsibility and productivity. They understand each other intuitively and can conversate with just fleeting touches and quick glances of their eyes. There is a thick sexual tension that builds between them overtime resulting in hurried, frantic, sloppy kisses in hallways where the couple battle for dominance by pushing each other against walls and gripping roughly at the other’s clothing

Napoleon- just housemates (not friends or lovers)

She can and usually feels uncomfortable when around Napoleon. She has chalked it down to the fact they are both the leader ‘alpha’ types that ruled enemy lands. Truly, they just don’t have much in common and find it hard to build a meaningful relationship. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Jean

Arthur- just housemates

Can sometimes get too snippy with Arthur. While she does find enjoyment in his jokes at times, she despises the sexual aspects of the author. Finds his skirt chasing habits understandable but disgusting. Admires his intelligence but can’t stand how he is able to tell you where have been just by the dust on your hand (she likes her privacy). Will play chess and pool with him even though she knows she will lose just because she enjoys playing. Will sometimes have deep conversations with Arthur in front of the fire place, both nursing a glass of alcohol, their eyes never leaving the fire as to not break the imaginary protective barrier around the two that eye contact will shatter. Smirks at his quirks and jokes sometimes and it literally makes Arthur’s heart leap because ‘damn a queen just found amusement in my joke.’ He internally freaked out the first time he met her mainly because the mansion now had two previous rulers instead of one and the newest one scared the living daylights out of him.

Comte- there is nothing between them

Doesn’t trust Comte as far as she can throw him. She can see the darkness in his heart and his past behind his eyes. She can see the death he’s caused- the pain, and while she knows that she, herself, has caused the death of many, she still has a deeply rooted gut feeling telling her to stay away from the pureblood. He wants her trust but soon realizes her opinion on him is similar to Jean’s. She will not take any gifts other than what is necessary from him (ex. Dresses for parties)

Dazai- just housemates

Dazai tries avoiding her. He feels suffocated when around and the victim of her stare. He feels as if her eyes and actions pick him apart and leave his in his barest, rawest form, and it scares him to no end. She does find his window habit hilarious though and will give him a hand up when he falls

Shakespeare- they don’t get involved with each other

She can tell Shakespeare’s mind is being manipulated, by what is the question she has yet to reveal though. She can tell he is dangerous. One who’s actions are watched and controlled by another always are. His unpredictable nature and mysterious, secret filled smile is what causes her to feel uneasy around him. She doesn’t ignore him, but she doesn’t want to be involved with the playwright and his actions so she tends to just quietly leave the room when he enters. He is polite to her and compliments her when they do talk but his fancy wording sometimes annoys Elizabeth, especially when she just wants to get away from him. She believes he is a good man at heart lead astray by forces more powerful than him, but still finds his company rather unnecessary. 

Sebastian- they respect one another, are not friends but have decent conversations

Has an interesting relationship with Sebastian. She wouldn’t call him a friend, she has very few of those so it is understandable, but she does respect him for his work ethic just as he respects her for her accomplishments and standing in history. She let him interview him once and nearly laughed out loud from how excited he got. They always have a cup of coffee or tea in the morning together, Elizabeth not quite woken up yet so they sip in comforting silence. Sebastian usually asks how she slept and she responds by telling him about her dreams if she had one. She’ll end up helping him cook breakfast.

Leonardo- friends with a chance of something more

Elizabeth appreciates Leonardo’s straightforwardness and honesty, so they have a decent trusting relationship, but his matureness makes her feel like a little girl again and it bothers her. Her thoughts tend to be: she was a queen; she ruled a country with a strength that rivaled even the greatest men, she should not look at this chain-smoking man with admiration in her eyes like a giddy school girl, flustered over a boy telling her she is cute, while around the Italian. The start of their relationship was rocky, due to Elizabeth’s personal feelings on the man- Leonardo could have cared less, but soon enough they started to appreciate each other’s qualities. Leonardo is mainly the only one she allows to touch her hair. They often speak Italian together on the balcony as Leonardo smoke a cigarillo and Elizabeth reads.

Isaac- they have the chance of being more than friends but their relationship is mainly just comforting one another through their presence and (when needed) touch- they also trust each other whole heartedly

Adores Isaac and will purposely sought him out just so she can listen to his calming ramblings while he tinkers away, a book in her hand and two cooling cups of coffee on the surface closest to the pair. He gets so red around her; at times he turns snow white from the intensity in her gaze and how her eyes never stray from her company. They share an endless loyalty to each other. Neither knows when the bond form, it just happened on its own (and very suddenly). Isaac has lost control and bit her but instead of reacting in anger she accepted it and pulled him closer, shuddering with each frenzied suck against her neck, her nails gently scratching the scalp of a whimpering Isaac. When Isaac finally came to his senses, he tried pulling away, his voice thick with unshed tears as his panicked words rang through the air until Elizabeth grabbed him and held him close, shushing Isaac as he trembled with regret and guilt in her arms. They had held each other for hours until they feel asleep in each other embraces. Isaac will link pinkies with Elizabeth when he is being picked on without realizing it for support and something to ground him so his thoughts don’t run too wild. Elizabeth will just glare and clear her throat and Arthur will shut his mouth while looking at the former queen as if he was a kicked puppy. She has a habit of fixing his clothing or hair after he nervously pulls, picks, or twists at it- Isaac doesn’t even notice it after a while. His face does burn intensely though when she places a hand on his overactive, bouncing knee when he is anxious.

Fun facts:

Due to her makeup being poisoned by her undetermined enemy, which resulted in her death, she refuses to wear any cosmetics other than what Vincent personally makes (learned how to from Leonardo) and puts on her skin himself when going to events if he asks to.

She tends to wear clothing that covers all skin other than her neck and face when leaving the mansion due to children being scared by her smallpox scars.

She usually never strays from wine unless her emotions become a little too overwhelming for her to just push the feelings down, only then will she drink something stronger.

Elizabeth is a quiet, peaceful drunk that tends to curl up on the couch, her shoes discarded on the floor, her hair loose and flowing over the decorative pillow she’ll grab and hug tightly to her chest.

She died a virgin and has remained one ever since her resurrection.

The former queen is hesitant to allow others to touch her hair from her past concerning the loss of said strands (a result of surviving smallpox), but if she trusts someone enough and knows they’ll be gentle she’ll let them style the curls, even if she is tense the entire time.

Prefers to braid her hair herself and wrap in into a bun due to the protective nature of the style.

Loves sleeping in but is often unable to due to insomnia.

She is highly particular when it comes to cleaning and organization. She has told Sebastian not to worry about cleaning her things or doing her laundry, instead she does it herself with up most focus and determination.

When she does open up or is around the boys long enough, they realize her heart is truly kind and nurturing instead of what she appears when first met (a cold-hearted woman with a resolve like steel). This is especially apparent when around animals.

She is very sarcastic and doesn’t mean any harm but usually her joking words sound hateful due to her dead tone and blank face.

Her voice is deeper and soothing, most times holding no emotion which creeps Dazai and Arthur out

Lives by “no pain no gain”

Doesn’t waste her breath on hate- if she doesn’t like someone or feels as if she can’t trust them then they just don’t exist to her. She won’t hesitate to cut someone off without warning.

Has a bad habit of bottling her emotions which causes her to explode when pushed over the edge resulting in one of the very rare moments where her anger creates an electric static in the room that demands the attention of anyone present. She doesn’t shout or scream but her words are sharper than a blade, her eyes burn with a fiery rage while she takes control of the room, overwhelming anyone (even Napoleon) and making them feel as if they are an ant beneath her boot.

Her eyes freak many people out- they feel as if the ice like orbs are staring straight into their soul, picking apart their insides, leaving nothing but shredded organs and an empty husk of what used to be a strong mind.

Can always tell when someone is lying. It’s a gut feeling, and her gut is always right.

She still wears her coronation ring on her wedding finger as a sign of her symbolic marriage to her people and country

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikevam #ikevamp oc #ikemen vampire oc #ikevam oc #elizabeth tudor #Ikevamp Elizabeth #ikemen vampire Elizabeth #ikevam Elizabeth

[oigimi]

. owlet .

. mozart and baby oc . found family . 1.9k words .

here’s a found family fic that’s been in my head for awhile now! i really hope you like it. mozart seems like the kind of guy to have a daughter

A cry filled the mansion’s halls, piercing the ears of all who heard it. It was relatively late at night, and everyone was gathered at the front door, staring at quite the unusual package. Gifts and shipments would grace the mansion’s front doors often, but this… this was something entirely different. Rather than a case of Rouge or Blanc, or a bouquet of roses or anything in the ordinary, the residents of le Comte’s mansion stood in front of a baby girl in a basket, with a tag attached reading, “My name is Asuka. Please take care of me.”

“Asuka… Just like- Ah, never mind,” Sebastian started, waving his hand. He bent down to pick the screaming infant up, only to have her screech even louder, and swat her hands around in an angry little tornado.

“Sebas, you’re holding her wrong! You need to-” Arthur’s attempts at calming Asuka were even more fruitless, with her fighting to wriggle out of his arms. He passed her on to Theo, who scared her. She was given to Comte, then Leonardo, then eventually everyone in the room before being returned to her basket.

Vincent looked downwards, his mouth tugged downwards in a frown. “What do we do? I feel so bad for her, she won’t even stop crying. Poor little baby…”

“Broer, she tried to bite you!”

“She’s just little and scared! You were like that too once, Theo.”

As the younger brother clammed up, a final face showed itself that hadn’t been present before.

“What’s all this noise? Whatever you’re all doing, can you wrap it up soon? Or perhaps be a little quieter?” Mozart hissed, marching right up to his roommates and their new problem. He caught sight of Asuka and wrinkled his nose. “Arthur, did one of your little flings catch up with you?”

“No! She’s just a darling little thing that showed up on our porch and we simply can’t get her to stop crying. If you want to get her to be quiet, why not try and hold her?”

Mozart looked at the screeching infant, whose face was reaching a color as hot and fiery as her hair. “No,” he simply said. Babies were messy and loud and provided everything he didn’t want in his life. But, Arthur was right. If there was any way he could try and fix the problem, it was to try and hold this thing. Mozart took a deep breath and took the baby out from the basket, shaking his head and awkwardly cradling her in his arms. “There… there. I suppose.”

“You’re supposed to bounce her,” Vincent chuckled, guiding Mozart into rocking Asuka to the rhythm of his heartbeat. “Just like that.” They looked down, and everyone’s faces melted into shock when Asuka finally stopped crying. Her big, glossy blue eyes were coated with tears, but she stared up in wonder at Mozart, or rather the feather in his jacket. She reached her tiny hand out to grab it.

“No. You’re just going to put it in your mouth and get sick.”

Asuka scrunched her face and pouted, reaching a little harder for the feather. She fussed, to which Mozart simply scoffed.

“No.”

“No!” she echoed, shaking her head. “No, no!”

“She’s already learning to speak like him,” Arthur snickered. “Oh, isn’t that just precious?”

Mozart glared at him as he tried to keep the baby away from his feather. He sat down on the couch, holding Asuka away from his body as if she carried a disease. “How long do I have to hold this thing?”

“Until she goes to sleep. Mozart, can’t you take care of this baby for just one night until we can figure out what to do with her?” Comte asked, tilting his head to the side. “It would mean you can get to your music faster, anyway.”

He looked at Asuka, who was still making fruitless attempts to obtain Mozart’s jacket feather, scowling in contempt at her. “Fine. But only for one night.”

“We all know how ‘just for tonight’ goes. You’ll be with her on her wedding day now!” Dazai mused, earning another deep scowl.

“I am not fathering this child.”

Asuka began to fuss, wriggling around and squirming in Mozart’s arms. He moved his arms so that she was gently pressed against him. “There… I suppose.” He swayed his body to the rhythm Vincent showed him, slowly patting her back. Before he knew it, she was yawning and her grabbing began to stop. “Hm. I’m putting her down to bed. Then I’m going back to my music.”

“Are you sure you should leave her alone? I think she’s gotten quite fond of you!” Arthur chuckled. “You might just wake her up if you leave.”

“Are you serious?” He groaned and looked down at the baby. “I guess I’m going to go to sleep too. The sooner I sleep the sooner time moves forward. Goodnight.”

Without another word, Mozart made a quick stop in the kitchen to warm up some milk. He swiped some chocolate, and glanced down at Asuka. She looked so… relaxed. So cute, even. Mozart couldn’t deny that he didn’t like babies, but the child he held in his arms felt a little different. He didn’t like her very much, but he couldn’t let anyone else take care of her. For some reason, it felt warm in his chest when she would only relax in his arms. As if he was meant to be her father in some way.

He grabbed a second, little cup with this in mind.

When he got to his room, Mozart made a tiny bed on the carpet with layers and layers of blankets and pillows, and laid Asuka down in it. She stirred, and made little cries in her sleep. Was she upset that Mozart had set her down? Could she even tell? It didn’t matter, he still felt a little bad for her. “We’ll get you a proper bed tomorrow. I couldn’t put you in a drawer or in your small basket,” he sighed. “You’re annoying and I don’t like you, but you’ll get a crib tomorrow. Goodnight, owlet.”

------

The next morning was full of diapers, crying, hissy fits, and screaming. Sebastian had run to pick up some basic supplies, but it ultimately did very little in the vampires’ battle against a fussy baby. She didn’t like peas, she didn’t like corn, and Vincent had to learn that babies can’t eat pancakes. What could she eat that would make her happy?

“Warm milk,” Mozart huffed, taking some off the stove. He poured some in the little cup he’d carried and let it cool off to a safe temperature. With some strict, yet gentle coercion, he managed to bring the cup to Asuka’s lips and help her drink as much as her tiny stomach could handle. “What was so hard? Babies like milk.” He grumbled a bit and cleaned out the cup. “Morons.”

“Well well well! You really are like a natural father to her!” Dazai chuckled. “What did we predict?”

“Nothing. I’m just not a fool,” Mozart snapped back, lifting Asuka out of the chair and burping her. “The plan today is to get some more supplies. But I am shopping for them.”

“Are you sure you do not want anyone to help carry anything?” Jean mumbled. “I can hold items at the store for you and help take them home.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Jean’s workplace ended up with a bit more than he expected, with a nice crib and mobile and a lot of bottles and sippy cups. The Frenchman blinked at the juxtaposition between the baby supplies and the items of war he sold in the shop. Mozart mentioned only taking care of Asuka for a few days. The abundance of furniture seemed like overkill.

At a nearby store, Mozart stood next to a stroller with his fussy responsibility inside. He scanned the shelves for toys, putting a set of blocks, paints, and a few stuffed animals inside. He stopped, however, when he laid eyes upon a stuffed snowy owl. “Just like Schelm…” he chuckled. He took the toy off the shelf and held it to Asuka. “Do you want an owl? An owl for the owlet?”

“Ow,” she replied, reaching out for the toy. “Ow!”

“Is that your way of saying ‘owl’? Alright, here you go. Be nice to it.” He paid for the toys and found himself looking in the stroller at the baby. She was cuddling her new toy and inspecting its wings and rubbing it, inspecting it for anything of interest. “It’s just a stuffed animal. Silly,” he chuckled. “Let’s get you home now. I have a feeling you’ll start screaming here in a moment.”

By the time night had arrived, the crib, bookshelf, mobile, and toys were all set up. Asuka was shaking a rattle on the floor when Mozart picked her up. “Alright, it’s time for bed. Come on.”

“Noooo!” she cried. “Nooooooo!”

“Yes. Come on.”

She fussed and began to cry, reaching down at the floor for her rattle.

“No rattles in bed,” Mozart huffed. “Here, I have something you can take in bed.” He reached down on the floor and handed her the stuffed owl. “Here. Your owl.”

“Ow.”

“That’s right. Your ow,” Mozart chuckled, setting Asuka down in the crib with her stuffed toy. “Goodnight, Asuka. You’re a silly little owlet who needs plenty of sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, he wound up a music box and turned off the lights.

------

“Papa, can I get the first slice?” Asuka asked, beaming wide at a large cake in the kitchen. “Better yet, I want the whole thing!”

“You can’t have the whole cake because you’ll get sick. You have my sweet tooth.” Mozart finished moving the cake to the table and sighed, “I can’t believe you’re sixteen years old now.”

“Old enough to get a boyfriend!”

“Let’s not go that far.”

“But you said when I turned sixteen I could!! Papa, you’re being unfair.”

Mozart chuckled and ruffled his daughter’s hair. “Alright, go sit down at the table.”

She did as she was told and grinned, admiring all the presents everyone in the mansion had bought for her. From personalized books from Uncle Arthur to a paint set from Uncle Vincent to expensive clothes from rich Uncle Comte, Asuka was surrounded with so many luxuries given to her by the people who loved her. She was adopted into the greatest family she could imagine, and by the best father she could ever want. Sure, Asuka had a bit of an attitude sometimes, but she always knew when the important things needed to be said.

“I love you Papa,” she murmured, getting up and hugging Mozart. “Thanks for taking care of me, and thanks for all the birthday gifts.”

He smiled, embracing his daughter tightly in his arms. “I love you too. I love you so, so much, Asuka. You gave my life and music meaning like no other… Are you crying?”

“N-no! I don’t cry!”

“Okay.” He kissed his daughter’s forehead and sat down at the table. “No matter how old you get, whether you’re sixteen or sixty, you’ll always be my little owlet. I love you so much, and happy birthday.”

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp scenarios #ikemen vampire mozart

[ikeromantic]

Hide and Seek

A le Comte de Saint Germain story. Spicy fluff at approx. 1600 words. This was inspired by a comment @raymiazaki made on my Ikemektober prompt fic Rose

The trees were tall with broad trunks and high branches. Part of an ancient forest that stretched into the hills behind the mansion. Le Comte often enjoyed peaceful walks here, away from the hum of activity in the mansion. Today his trip was less reflective, but infinitely more amusing. 

“Ma cherie, aren’t you old to be skipping?” 

She was a little way ahead of him on the path, gleefully kicking piles of fallen leaves. “You’re never too old to skip,” she giggled. 

“I’m afraid I might be.” 

“Is that so?” She stopped and waited for him to catch up. When he did, she looped her arm through his. 

Comte could tell by her mischievous grin that she was planning to do something. He wasn’t at all surprised when she tried to hop into motion, which would have tugged him forward. Would have if he were a human. 

She held nothing back in her attempt to pull him into skipping, but his arm was like an iron bar. After a moment, she gave up. Her lips curved down into an adorable pout. 

“I will have to do something about that face you’re making.” Comte was struck again by how childlike she could be at times, and how that appealed to him. She was by no means a child - she was a writer, a professional in her world. But in moments like this, there was a naivete to her that was magnetic for him.

“I hope you don’t plan on spanking me. I heard you threaten Arthur . . .” Her mouth was still bowed but her eyes sparkled. 

Comte laughed. “For you, I have better medicine.” Then he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, level with his face. 

“What? Comte, put me down!”

“I think not.” He pulled her close and kissed her. He intended it to be a light kiss. Just enough to make her smile. But he’d barely pressed his mouth to hers when she threw her arms around his neck. Her playful tongue darted between his lips, teasing. Of course, he couldn’t let it end there. 

Several minutes later, with both breathless, they leaned back, regarding each other.

“I see you’re smiling now, ma cherie.”

“Am I? Hmmm. You have good medicine, monsieur.”

He laughed and set her down. “Come, my dear. We are almost there. I’d hate to let Sebastian’s efforts go to waste.” He took her hand and led them on.

Sebas set a picnic for them in one of the high meadows. It was a rare spot where the soil was no good for the deep roots of trees. Instead, light, sweet smelling grass grew here, and wildflowers. A perfect place to take a lady for a picnic, if a bit of a walk.

“It’s funny. I know I should but I don’t really feel hungry.” She smiled up at him. “At least, not for food.”

Me neither, thought Comte. But he didn’t say it aloud. Ma cherie was still new to the idea of vampires and startled easily. Like a doe or a wild rabbit. Something of his thoughts must have shown in his expression though, because she swallowed and looked down.

“Do I frighten you,” he asked.

She shook her head. “N-no. Not exactly. It’s not fear.” 

Comte waited for her to continue. He could tell her heartbeat was racing through the press of her wrist where their hands met. If this wasn’t fear, then what?

“I - you have to promise not to laugh.”

He nodded, schooling his expression to solemnity.

“It is kind of exciting. To be around you.”

Comte’s eyes widened. “Exciting? I will have to remember that.” He stroked the inside of her wrist with his fingertip, enjoying the flush of her cheeks in response. 

“I can tell you’re laughing at me on the inside,” she sighed. 

“Am I going to have to kiss you again?”

She looked up at him, her expression chagrined. “That’s not much of a threat. Might as well say, stop sulking or else I’ll give you what you want.”

Which was more or less true, Comte thought. But if she wanted a threat - he smiled at her, letting his sharp canines show. It was a young vampire’s trick. Something those new to the power and thirst did to enjoy the shiver it brought to their victims. A primal fear. For a man of his years, it felt silly, but had the desired effect. 

Her eyes went wide and she stopped moving. There was a slight tremble in her legs. 

“Something wrong?”

She licked her lips. Swallowed. “N-no. Just, when you look at me like that, you look so . . . hungry.” 

“And if I am?” Comte smiled wider. He could hear the shudder in her breath. Smell the tang of fear beneath her perfume. Fear and desire.

“I’m not scared.”

He took a step closer to her. “No?” 

She flashed him a grin, defiant despite her natural apprehension. Then she ran. It was not what he expected her to do. He stood there on the path, listening to the crunch of fallen leaves under her feet. After a few breaths, the sound faded. 

“Come back, ma cherie! I was only teasing,” he called. 

“No!” Her voice echoed in the empty space between the trees. Muffled by the leaves and obscured by the wind. 

“If you don’t come back, I’ll have to come find you!”

“If you can!” Her laughter was wild and carefree.

This reminded Comte of his younger days. Stalking his prey through forests or back alleys. Toying with them. Only, with her, the ending would be so much sweeter. He started in the direction she’d run. 

She was a silly girl. Surely she knew by now that his senses were more acute than a human. Surely she didn’t expect to stay hidden for long. Even had he not been looking for her, the alluring smell of her clean skin with that delicious frisson of fright and lust would have pulled him to her.

Comte walked silently across the forest floor, instinctively stepping around dry leaves and fallen branches. He knew he was getting closer. There was a rocky outcropping with a large fallen tree - she was probably on the other side. Her scent was so strong that he had no doubt he was right. And she was holding her breath. Clever.

“Got you!” He leapt the tree trunk, expecting to surprise her. Instead, he surprised a pair of silk stockings. They hung from the tree branches, swaying with the breeze. 

Her laughter hovered just at the edge of his hearing. Comte picked up the stockings and stuffed them in his pocket. “Ah ma cherie, that was almost too clever. But I will find you. And when I do . . .” He felt a thirst for her that was almost overpowering.

This time, he stood still and silent. Listening. It was hard to pick out the sounds of her movement from the ambient forest. Creaking branches, scurrying squirrels. Birdsong. There - a footfall,and another atop fallen leaves. Comte grinned. 

Moving at unnatural speed, he dashed toward the sound. She would not escape him this time. But he could see no one as he got close. He checked behind each tree, tense with excitement of the hunt. In a leaf pile nearby, he finally found ‘her.’ Or rather, he found her shoes. 

His darling was proving to be difficult prey. Comte’s eyes took on a bright, golden shine. This little game of hers was more fun than he expected. 

Comte went slowly now. He knew his quarry had to be close. She would have tossed her shoes to make the sound, so how far could she throw? He scanned the shadowed spaces under low-hanging branches, circling the spot where he’d found her shoes. 

“Ma cherie? I know I am close. I can hear your breath, each - little - frightened - gasp.” He chuckled. In truth, Comte only heard one slight exhale, but it was enough to assure him he was on the right track.

There was a rustle of cloth to his left. He stopped, eyes narrowed. Thick brush grew in tangles beneath an old tree. The branches were low and thick with gold and red leaves, colors muted in the shadow of the canopy above. And there - the edge of her red dress. So adorably cunning to try to hide behind the bright foliage.

Cautious and silent, he closed in on her. Comte’s own breath was a bit ragged, and his heart raced. Driven by anticipation of finding his darling. Pulling her close. He could already taste his victory, the sweetness of blood and kisses, her moans his song of triumph.

He reached into the dense leaves, his fingers brushing the soft fabric. “Now I really do have you, ma cherie,” he growled.

But there was nothing beneath the dress to grab. Only fabric, left hanging in the branches. Comte pulled the dress out. It was still warm from her skin. 

A scarlet leaf drifted down from the tree, brushing his shoulder. 

Comte looked up.

“Does this mean I win?” She sat in the crook of a branch, wearing nothing but her corset and panties. Light and shadow danced across her bare skin. Her smile was wicked. 

He held his arms open and she dropped confidently into them. “Mmmm, ma cherie, I’m afraid you’ve lost. I found you. And now I plan to claim my prize.” He pulled her close, his fingers already working loose the corset lacing. 

She shivered. “I’m pretty sure that means I won.” Then she was kissing him, as hungry for his touch as he was for hers.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp comte #ikemen comte #le comte de saint germain #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Hi again! I come to you today with a question that may simply be a continuity error, but I'm still interested in your thoughts! In the main story, le Comte *knows* it was MC that came through the door behind him. Yet in Comte's "One Night, Beneath the Crescent Moon" POV story, he said he "...had no idea of what would happen next... That she would end up using the same door and end up stuck on the other side." What's your take on it? Thanks in advance! 💛

Hiya! First off I wanna apologize for how long it took to reply oTL I had originally drafted a response and then lost it when I accidentally closed the tab, and whenever that happens I always have to like sufficiently mourn the words I lost 😂😂😂

But to answer your question! If I’m entirely honest, I can’t remember what it was Comte said exactly in the Main Story in regards to her entering the door. There could be a lot of explanations for him saying he “knew”: continuity error, him wanting to put her at ease by seeming “in control” of the situation (while he’s screaming internally), or maybe even him wanting to cast some doubt as to whether or not he’s a person that can be trusted (aka the whole like “MC nooooooo don’t trust me I’m a vampire very bad very scary run away” kind of like Leonardo). 

All that being said, given the evidence we have and the stories I’ve read from his POV--esp that Crescent Moon one you referenced--I’m most inclined to believe that he had no idea she would follow him that day at the Louvre. If anything I really don’t think he ever anticipated any human person could follow him through the door? Because remember Sebastian (and the suitors for that matter) only manage because Comte is their escort. Sure their will to live on was strong enough that he could hear them, but they had no capacity to approach or find a door on their own as far as we currently know. The door was closed when MC found it; this suggests that Comte fully closed off that avenue to make sure nobody wayward stepped in by accident. He did the responsible thing and he left long before he could ascertain her safe journey through time, but she still managed to make it across somehow.

That’s why I think MC’s mere existence is earth-shattering to Comte. I mean we have all the good basics: a lovely lady, sweet and hard-working, means well and does her best. And these attributes all do matter, for sure. But the door is perhaps a greater catalyst in their romance than we might have first anticipated.

There will be some semi-hefty JPN rt spoilers below the cut for Dazai and Comte, so I’m just going to keep it under wraps just in case there are people who want to remained 100% unspoiled:

TW: Mentions of suicide in Dazai’s rt

The reason I say this is twofold, based on information provided by Dazai and Comte’s Main Story route. In Dazai’s route, remember that the focal point of the story is that Dazai wants to go back in time to kill himself as a baby so that he can never grow up to write his books or cause anyone pain in the near future--essentially, suicidal ideation to a frightening extreme. One of the main reasons that he fails (though MC plays a significant role in stopping him, too) is that Dazai’s will to kill himself is too weak. In simpler terms, this means that--no matter how much he insisted he wanted to die, the truth of his heart was revealed in his constant hesitating and difficulty going through with it. This is very often a reaction from people who need sizable psychological assistance to overcome trauma; they don’t usually want to die, it’s more that the pain of surviving their experiences is outweighing any possible joy they can find in living. 

But back to the most important part in bold. When Dazai asks about being able to use the door to travel through time, Charles confirms that it’s possible to travel without a pureblood escort. HOWEVER. This type of travel is very, very difficult unless you have an intense sense of willpower. I imagine the implication here is that you have to have an overwhelming desire and firmly believe it’s where you want to be in order for the travel attempt to succeed at all. (I don’t think the tethering point necessarily matters, but there is a suggestion that strong bonds between people--whether platonic or romantic--can serve as powerful guideposts when the door is distorted.) In other words, the reason Dazai relies on Charles’ moral bankruptcy is because Dazai knows he doesn’t feel strongly enough to go through with the suicide. He needs someone else who has the sheer determination and unbending will to see it through when the door opens. 

This is why Dazai is forced to ask Charles to accompany him, even though Charles doesn’t necessarily want to kill him. For Charles, this is less about a desperation to kill Dazai and more about his intense obsession-love for MC, and his willingness to do anything to receive her love/attention in return. In Charles’ view, since MC is ostensibly in love with Dazai, removing Dazai from the picture permanently is ideal. While Charles’ judgement is clouded and a little horrific, he is nonetheless rock steady in comparison to Dazai’s nonstop wavering. Dazai knows that he’s fickle on a personal level; one moment he wants to die, another he’s too afraid to let go of what he does care about or upset anyone. He’s at a point where he doesn’t know what’s right or true anymore and he’s floundering, which is honestly fairly common among those who share his lamentable condition. (Most people don’t have a death wish--it’s more a combination of circumstantial problems and healing that has remained in stasis that constitutes the extremity of that behavior.)

Moving right along, Comte’s route also features a similar testament to willpower, believe it or not. This happens in the last few chapters of the main story. Basically, Shakespeare dumps MC on Vlad’s doorstep and she’s more or less suffering the latter’s monologuing for a good while. Not long after that Comte appears and nearly shoots Vlad in the head, the bullet just grazing his cheek. Comte demands that he let MC go, and Vlad--in a classic sadistic act of compliance--wrenches open the door and just tosses MC into the freefall of distorted spacetime.

Now this is dangerous to MC’s life in and of itself, but there’s a key element there: distorted spacetime. In this main story the door never returns to its normal state after that first month period. Rather, the expanse of the door is too dangerous to be traveled even by a pureblood, let alone a human being. The chances MC will ever be able to escape in order to survive are closer to zero than any other number. Remember that Comte is immortal. If he gets stuck on his own, he can’t die and the damage to his body is always more than able to heal when he’s back to safety. (He even warns Leonardo in Leo’s MS that the danger of getting stuck in some kind of pocket in spacetime is still too significant to be ignored, though I can’t be sure if that’s due to Leonardo’s inexperience with time travel/requirement for an escort, or just an inevitable risk you juggle anytime you travel through the door.)

Of course Comte leaps in after her to try to save her, but presumably their entry point is long gone now (Vlad shut the door), so they’re just kind of floating in amorphous time. They do and don’t exist. Comte is understandably distraught because MC’s life hangs in the balance; if they don’t find a way out, she is almost certainly going to die. Comte admits that--while he hates the fact that his very existence is a danger to her, he still doesn’t regret finding her by any extension. MC protests, naturally, that there’s nothing to regret. Circumstances be what they may, she loves him. 

Now, here is the key. While Comte is trying to think of a way out, MC is thinking hard about wanting to return to the mansion. Her mind reflects an acute, intense desire to return home to the place where they both belong. And wouldn’t you know it? They both suddenly tumble out of the door in the mansion and onto the carpeted floor, whole and alive, sputtering in disbelief. Comte is baffled at first but it can only give way to immense relief that she’s safe, and he just immediately breaks down.

The only reason the two make it out unscathed is because of--I can only assume--MC’s overwhelming will to live on with Comte and return to the mansion. While it would have been natural for her to be overcome by fear to the point where she could make no productive decision, or even humor the concept of focusing on their home, she does it all the same with immediate success. That’s also part of why I think Comte just 100% caves into both of their feelings in the next chapter. He saw firsthand that, not only does MC keep a level head under duress, but she also has the overpowering will necessary to survive amongst vampires. And it was perhaps this unshakeable will in the first place that landed her in the late 19th century all those weeks ago.

It’s interesting because, honestly? Her entry through the door is more or less a hinge point for their romance. While it obviously isn’t the only reason he cares about her, it definitely is one of the bigger reasons he even feels safe enough to court her in earnest in the aftermath. It is literally only after this event that he confesses everything. Why he created the mansion and the men. How he’s really felt about her and himself all this time. What Vlad showed her and the implications of Vlad’s existence. And finally the truth about what he wants. He wants a relationship with her, but he keeps being held back by the fear that he’s too much. That the demand of being by his side will outweigh any happiness she might find choosing him. (Granted MC and I find that preposterous given how attentive and considerate he is, but you know). But after seeing her pull off surviving Vlad and traveling through the door by her own willpower again? I think it sufficiently lessens his doubts as to whether she could handle a future with him. It gives him the courage to just ask her: Do you want a future with me? Can you handle the demands of a vampire that cannot accept a mere human lifetime to be in love? 

And so this is why I have unceasing Comte brainworms ladies and gentlethem. I need to go lie down before I start crying again, I love him oTL

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp meta #fangdad propaganda #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp jpn rt spoilers #i hope this makes sense/was helpful! #you're always welcome <3333 #man i need a snack but comte isnt here so whats the point #*long dramatic sigh* #AND WUV. TWUUUUUU WUV......WILL FOWOW U FOWEVAAAAAAAAA..... #AND MAWWIAGE......THAT BWESSED A W A N G E M E N T......THAT DWEAM W I F I N. A DWEAM. #SO CHEWISH YO WUV #i have exactly one brain cell and all it does is rattle for comte 25/8 #god idk how im going to wait for his wedding event in ENG oTL #i am tender #not incorrect quotes #rambles

[write-a-bad-romance]

Two Hares Running Side by Side [Part I]

Characters: Jean d’Arc, Napoleon Bonaparte, Sebastian, Comte de Saint-Germain, minor characters adapted from historical figures

Pairings: Napoleon x MC, Napoleon x Jean, Sebastian x Saint-Germain (main)

Words: 2939

Their first encounter was twelve years ago, in a training and recruitment camp in the east. 

It was a slow and uneventful afternoon. Leon yawned as he watched sons and young fathers line up at the administration table, each of them carrying a conscription letter with their respective names. 

The prolonged war had taken too many of their older, more capable men. Leon snorted at the sight of snot-faced, butterfingered lads not even old enough to venture far from their parents' farm. 

Nothing had been amiss until he heard his sergeant, Sebastian, arguing with some country boy.

The boy was about his height, clearly younger by a good four years and too ethereally pretty to join the army. His expression was nonchalant, and Leon noted the same lack of enthusiasm in his baritone voice. 

"The letter clearly called for Jacques d'Arc, a veteran. You are clearly not him. What's your name, boy?" Sebastian inquired. The word "boy" did not suit his actual, affable demeanor in the slightest.

"Jean d'Arc, Sir. I've come in my elderly father's place as my brothers are unsuitable to partake on the journey to camp," The boy explained levelly. "I just turned seventeen this summer, Sir."

Leo stared at the pale boy. Broad shoulders, a sharp contrast to his ridiculously modest waist, and long legs leaner than an average man's. 

If this was what a farm boy was supposed to look like, Leon wasn't impressed. They were drafting soldiers to fight off the goddamned Holy Roman Empire, not chevalier servants for a house of pleasures.

Napoleon's patience grew thin. He disappeared between the encampment's gates, not bothering to see the end of Sebastian's quarrel with the dispassionate recruit.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The haughty farmboy turned out to be one of his cadets in the artillery. 

He wasn't half-bad, Leon supposed. The boy was clearly a quick study and obedient, to boot. Somewhat distant from his fellow trainees, but still handy nonetheless.

D'Arc clearly preferred the company of horses, as Leon came to learn when he found the latter loitering around the stables. The unwitting boy was gingerly brushing Leon's beloved mare, Angé.

Napoleon cleared his throat. "You do know it's my horse you're brushing, don't you, soldier?"

Jean d'Arc started at the sound of Leon's voice. Even so, he didn't stutter. "Forgive me. I hadn't been aware."

But Napoleon signaled him to stay at ease, seeing how easily Angé leaned into his touch. No doubt a skill he brought from home. 

"I couldn't resist approaching such a magnificent horse," d'Arc spoke to Leon's surprise. "Such a gentle steed."

“Tame” wasn't the right word Leon would use when describing Angé, especially not regarding how she'd usually react to new faces. "Did you bribe her with a carrot?"

Leon was joking, but Jean answered him like his entire month's salary depended on his answer. "No, sir. It was an apple I offered instead. Although this time, I had been meaning to give her a carrot." The dark-haired youth answered, holding out a spindly carrot for Leon to inspect.

Napoleon couldn't help but chuckle. "I hope you didn't steal that from the kitchen."

"No, sir. I procured this out of my own pocket." Jean replied earnestly as if the dark brown mare wasn't trying to chew on his uniform shoulder.

It was dangerous for Napoleon to allow himself to laugh. There was no stopping him once he laughed, Sebastian once said. In the end, Leon only smirked and turned to exit the stables. "If I had known you were this skillful at handling horses, I would have turned you over to Cavalry instead."

There was a solemn glint in d'Arc's eyes, one Napoleon couldn't find in himself to ridicule. 

"I enjoy being in the artillery, sir." Sharp, once-glazed iolite eyes held Leon's gaze. "There is so much I have yet to learn."

And master, Leon wanted to add. Given time and the opportunity, it's intelligent men like d'Arc who were quick to advance in the military.

"Is that so? Good to hear." Leon replied, just as sincere. "We're glad to have you."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

True to Leon's word, d'Arc scaled the ranks in no time. He was promoted to Sergeant Major, just as Leon himself rose to Second Lieutenant.

It had been a snowy night when Leon and the now-Adjutant Sebastian were making their way to their temporary base, located not too far from the town’s business district. The streets were relatively quiet, save for the distant jeers and shouts of soldiers making merry in brightly lit taverns.

The lanterns reminded Leon of Paris, of home. Of the face of his mother and siblings.

And of his fiancé with strawberry blonde locks, who is no doubt currently enjoying the holidays with her family, waiting for him to arrive home.

"Everybody seems quite spirited, aren't they?" Sebastian smiled fondly. "I mean, literally.

Napoleon didn't answer. He was too absorbed watching black figures dance on the light pouring from the door of a tavern. They reminded him of a shadow play he watched once in Paris with his fiancé

Which meant he was caught off guard when a body was flung to his side from the open door. He struggled to maintain his footing as he propped the other man.

Only to be met by a familiar face, now flushed red from drinking.

"D'Arc!" Leon exclaimed, "You frightened me! Are you alright, man?"

Judging from the sweat clinging to his skin (despite it being midwinter) and his vehement groans, it became evident that d'Arc was far from alright.

They were soon joined by d'Arc's friends: fellow officers whom Leon quickly recognized as the three young nobles who constantly hung around the farm boy for some reason.

"Jean! Where are you— ack, Second Lieutenant Bonaparte! Forgive us! We didn't mean to—" One of the lads shrieked. What was his name? d'Alencon? "See, see? This is why we shouldn't have forced him to drink!"

Leon glared at his subordinates. "You made your friend overdrink?! Why?"

Sebastian glanced back-and-forth anxiously as a burly man with raven hair stepped forward. "We didn't mean to, sir. D'Arc's birthday is approaching, and we thought about celebrating since we may not be able to get off camp by then." He explained.

"D'arc birthday? Oof!" Leon grunted as he felt Jean slipping from his side and onto the cobblestones. "That is still no reason to make your friend this intoxicated. If this were the barracks, I'd have all of you thrown out and never mind your parents!" he barked. 

D'Alencon piped up. "It was a small pint, sir. Jean went down immediately after that one shot."

Leon's bewilderment was cut short as he felt d'Arc's breath caressing the side of his exposed neck. The Second Lieutenant nearly yelped and threw d’Arc off if it wasn’t for the vice-like grip on his waist.

"If you'd allow us, sir." Another dark-haired youth approached to pry d'Arc off Leon. "We'll take him back inside."

But d'Arc's iron hold on Leon proved too much for both men (three, as Sebastian rushed to their aid). Napoleon let out a defeated laugh as d'Arc only clung tighter to his victim. 

Sebastian eyed Napoleon with a look that said well, he's your problem now.

The unconscious d' Arc somehow managed to climb even higher and grunted audibly against Leon's ear. The sound sent shivers down Leon's spine.

"So, what do we do now?" d'Alencon asked.

"Get him to the base," Leon breathed laboriously. "Let Saint-Germain treat him."

It was overkill for a drunk soldier, but d'Arc was no ordinary drunk. Leon feared the inebriated youth might get himself into trouble if they let him loiter outside the base

And, God forbid, do something that will besmirch their corps' name.

Leon looped one of d'Arc's arms behind his neck as he held the sergeant-major's ridiculously thin waist close. "Leave this to us. We're taking him back to the Doctor. Don't try anything else and report to me in the morning." He informed the officers, all of whom reacted differently: d'Alencon with wide panicked eyes, the tall, dark man who stayed silent (he was clearly drunk), and the quiet one, who regarded the commotion with well, silence.

"We'll take it from here then," Sebastian hurriedly added. "If you'll excuse us, gentlemen."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It didn't take long before the trio finally reached the base. By now, Leon had resorted to piggybacking d'Arc as the latter suddenly seemed to have lost every bone in his (surprisingly light body).

"Friends, they say." Leon heaved. "And they don't even accompany us back to base."

"There's not much to do at the base if they choose to return," Sebastian answered. "And they're still afraid of you."

"Me? Do I still come off as threatening?" Leon laughed. It felt like ages since he last barked orders on the field to the then-recruits. Now, they were officers with a third of his burden and responsibilities.

Someday, they'd be in his shoes too, growing older as the never ending war raged on. Ah, how time flew.

"Not as my long-time friend, no." Sebastian giggled. "You don't often show your friendlier side these days. Imagine your subordinate's shock if they found out you're a charismatic, passionate man who laughs, eats, and speaks as if every moment was a gift."

Napoleon smiled at the dove-haired man.

"So, like a normal man?" He chuckled. "You flatter me too much, Sebastian."

It was the increasing body count. It was the uncertainty one faced before heading off to battle, and not knowing whether it would be their remains that would be scattered across the fields the next minute.

"At least you're with me from the start, Sebastian. That's all I could ask,"

was all Napoleon could manage. It elicited a hearty laugh from his best friend.

"Save those words for your fiancé, Monsieur Bonaparte," Sebastian grinned. "You're making me fall for you all over again."

The Corsican grimaced, and both men continued their walk through the military complex, which was dead silent as a cemetery.

They managed to reach d'Arc's quarters, which he shared with d'Alencon after clambering through several corridors and a flight of stairs.

"You, get Saint-Germain or anybody else who's still around." Leon panted after he successfully hoisted d'Arc's body onto the bed. "Remember, time of the essence. No fooling around with the good doctor."

"Didn't expect you to say that," Sebastian grinned. "But you can count on me."

"You, get Saint-Germain or anybody else who's still around." Leon panted after he successfully hoisted d'Arc's body onto the bed. "Remember, time of the essence. No fooling around with the good doctor."

"Didn't expect you to say that," Sebastian grinned. "But you can count on me. I’ll be right back." And with that, he disappeared.

If he were shameless, Leon would have joined d'Arc on the bed beside him. But not even exhaustion could conquer the Corsican, and so Leon sat straight-legged by the foot of the bed. 

D'Arc's side of the room was as bare as bones, Leon noticed. There was the Holy Book on the bedside drawer and a gold rosary, but not much else.

"I wonder what your family would think if they caught their good, Christian son drinking until he's plastered." Leon chuckled to himself. "You'd be in so much trouble."

Leon's idle hand groped around until he felt a piece of paper under his palm. Picking it up, he recognized it as a manual on newly produced cannon types, which he penned.

Around the illustrations and diagrams were d'Arc's chicken-foot scribbles, cramped next to each other until there was barely any space left on the paper.

Like his former fellow cadets, he too had grown.

Leon sighed and leaned against the bed, gazing at the ceiling. This year marked d'Arc's third New Year with the company. He was no longer the solitary boy hanging around the stables feeding Angé carrots. D'Arc was now a man with dozens of cannons under his command and his own soldiers to lead.

The war has yet to strip his innocence, Leon mused. There was a time when he wished farm boys like d'Arc remained boys, away from the dangers of shrapnels and enemy bayonets.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt gloved hands coming to grope at the back of his head, the sides of his face. Was d'Arc awake?

"D'Arc." Leon turned. "You—"

He was cut off when he was suddenly knocked down towards the floor with full force. Leon's head was full of how and why he felt d'Arc's body slide down from the bed and cover his.

"D'Arc!" Leon shouted frantically. "Get off me! You're heavy, for heaven's sake!" But resistance was futile as d'Arc began to boldly crawl all over his prone form, the former's chest firmly pressing down on his back. 

"K-keep still," The man on top of him slurred, his nose burrowing into Leon's hair. "Y-you're moving too much."

This idiot! Leon screamed internally. His energy had been wasted to the point where he couldn't just roll over and dislodge the other man. "You keep it together! You dared to tackle your Second Lieutenant, and now you're crushing him to death!"

Leon continued struggling against his predicament until he realized he had no more hope than a cockroach flipped on its back. In the end, he gave up and stopped thinking until slender fingers began to wander all over his neck and face.

Just like a banshee with her clawed hands. Leon sighed to himself. 

Just when he thought nothing could surprise him anymore, d'Arc somehow had to whisper right next to his face, hot air grazing against the shell of Leon's ear.

"Pierre, 's that you?"

Leon's prior mortification faded. There was the smallest hint of a sob in d'Arc's otherwise unwavering voice.

"Pierre, 'm so sorry." D'Arc sniffled. "I went ahead without telling you." 

Leon stilled. Who was Pierre? His brother? He remembered d'Arc mentioning male siblings who were unfit to enlist, so he went in their stead. Was this Pierre one of them?

"Dun want you to go," D'Arc continued. "Please...be happy with Émile."

Leon was an imaginative man, and he was convinced d'Arc had taken his brother's place as he had been newly married. It was easy to position himself in the situation. If he were d'Arc, he'd go in place of his brother too.

But his career in the military as a second was a given. What he didn't understand was why d'Arc would trade a peaceful life in the pastures for bloodshed.

It's not every day that a boy woke up and decided he was brave enough to kill a man. Or risk getting himself killed.

But none of it mattered as more words flowed out of the Sergeant Major's mouth.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt gloved hands coming to grope at the back of his head, the sides of his face. Was d'Arc awake?

"D'Arc." Leon turned. "You—"

He was cut off when he was suddenly knocked down towards the floor with full force. Leon's head was full of how and why he felt d'Arc's body slide down from the bed and cover his.

"D'Arc!" Leon shouted frantically. "Get off me! You're heavy, for heaven's sake!" But resistance was futile as d'Arc began to boldly crawl all over his prone form, the former's chest firmly pressing down on his back. 

"K-keep still," The man on top of him slurred, his nose burrowing into Leon's hair. "Y-you're moving too much."

This idiot! Leon screamed internally. His energy had been wasted to the point where he couldn't just roll over and dislodge the other man. "You keep it together! You dared to tackle your Second Lieutenant, and now you're crushing him to death!"

Leon continued struggling against his predicament until he realized he had no more hope than a cockroach flipped on its back. In the end, he gave up and stopped to think until slender fingers began to wander all over his neck and face.

Just like a banshee with her clawed hands. Leon sighed.

Just when he thought nothing could surprise him anymore, d'Arc somehow had to whisper right next to his face, hot air grazing against the shell of Leon's ear.

"Pierre, 's that you?"

Leon's prior mortification faded. There was the smallest hint of a sob in d'Arc's otherwise unwavering voice.

"Pierre, 'm so sorry." D'Arc sniffled. "I went ahead without telling you." 

Leon stilled. Who was Pierre? His brother? He remembered d'Arc mentioning male siblings who were unfit to enlist, so he went in their stead. Was this Pierre one of them?

"Dun want you to go," D'Arc continued. "Please...be happy with Émile."

Leon was an imaginative man, and he was convinced d'Arc had taken his brother's place as he had been newly married. It was easy to position himself in the situation. If he were d'Arc, he'd go in place of his brother too.

But his career in the military as a second was a given. What he didn't understand was why d'Arc would trade a peaceful life in the pastures for bloodshed.

It's not every day that a boy woke up and decided he was brave enough to kill a man. Or risk getting himself killed.

In place of sobs spilling from his mouth, d'Arc's nose dug even deeper against the nape of Leon's neck. What worrying behavior, Leon thought. Other people will be sure to take this the wrong way.

"D'Arc? No, Jean?" Leon called softly, wondering if calling the soldier by his given name would work better. "Jean, I need you to—"

"Jehanne," d'Arc murmured.

"What?"

"It's Jehanne. Not Jean, not...d'Arc. Jehanne." D’Arc repeated as if his own name were a litany. The added syllable lent more personality to his unremarkable official name, given to a million men across the country.

And shaped a clearer image of Jean d'Arc as a whole, a person.

It wasn't much but enough to distinguish him from the lonely d'Arc who was no longer alone. And from the resigned beauty who seemed more at home on the distant moon than the lines of cannons and armed men.

God, Leon was starting to sound delirious. Even more than the actual drunk on his back.

"Excuse me, I believe someone requested medical help — oh dear, I didn't mean to interrupt!" a voice alerted Leon from his reflection. He noticed Saint-Germain by the door, followed by a disheveled Sebastian.

"Good evening, Doctor. You sure took your time coming here," Leon smirked. "Would you kindly free me from Sergeant Major d'Arc? Careful, he bites."

⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋

Recommended BGM: (X)

Notes: yeaaa, so I changed the nature of Napo and Sebas’ relationship here because they’re supposed to be more or less equals (Sebas still thinks of him as his superior, but still). 

Also, I kinda had to tone down Napoleon’s prince charming tendencies and up the arrogance somewhat. He’s supposed to be a military officer here and not just somebody’s boyfriend.

#ikevam fanfic #ikemen vampire #ikevam jean d'arc #ikevam napoleon bonaparte #jeanpoleon

[robin-the-enby]

Communication is key

!!!!!TW: Dark, dark thoughts! Violence! I reaaally have no idea what's up with me, so I can't really specify!!!!!

A/N: Here we go again... Read more will be added when I have an access to a pc. Please excuse any grammar errors.

Pairing: Comte de Saint Germain x reader

* * * * *

Things were getting bad again. You woke up one day and the world seemed just a bit darker, a bit more glum, a bit more colourless. It was like the volcano that is your happiness finally erupted and coated the world in a thick layer of ash. And all the repressed thoughts, doubts and worries spilled out, slow but steady, and ready to burn, just like hot lava.

It went on like that for a while, the thoughts getting closer and closer and one day, they just consumed you completely. You didn't want to do anything, didn't have the motivation to do anything, but there was this fear inside you, fear of upsetting your loved ones, that you still got up and did your work.

But you had to let go of something, so your mind wouldn't shut down completely.

Who would've thought skipping meals was so easy?

Oh how your hurt, twisted mind enjoyed the way your stomach, that has been empty for days now, squeezed and turned in an attempt to let you know its needs, filling your head, that was already aching from the malnutrition, with deep grumbles.

You seriously didn't think this could go on forever, did you?

It must've been one of the residents who told him. Maybe it was Sebastian, he spent most of the time with you afterall. Maybe it was Arthur when he caught you in the library, leaning your head on the shelves, because you were lightheaded or maybe Dazai, who caught you outside smashing your head against a tree he was occupying, your facial muscles clenched and teeth tightly clamped together, frustration written all over your face.

But that didn't matter now.

What did matter was him, in all his perfect beauty and grace. He sat behind his desk, fingers weaved together in front of his chin. The only thing he was lacking, was that trade mark smile of his, now replaced by what an onlooker would call a blank face, but those who knew him could recognize a scowl forming on his face.

It started simple. "How are you ma chèrie?" By now you had realized that lying would be futile, so you answered truthfully "I'm not doing so well right now. But no need to worry my love, I'll be alright soon enough." you smiled at him. Never in your lufe have you realized how straining it is sometimes to smile.

Comte sighed "You tell me not to worry and then I hear you've been neglecting and hurting yourself. I think that gives me a good reason to worry." He didn't lie, you had to admit and so you only looked off to the side and nodded your head.

"Why didn't you come to me? I could've at least tried to help you." His eyes were staring right into your soul, searching for truth. But the truth was, that you had no idea. Maybe it was due to your trauma, but consulting your problems with your lover never even came up as an option in your head. The first thing your brain commanded to your body was selfdestruct. And so you only shrugged.

"May I know what's plaguing your mind my dear?" he asked oh so softly and caringly. Your response was almost automatic "Oh it's nothing serious, I'm just a bit under the weather is all. I'll be better in no time!"

Comte sighed. But not sadly anymore. His sigh was filled to the brim with dissapointment. "And yet you still lie to me. What am I supposed to do with you?" a small, loving smile accompanied the count's second sentence.

What am I supposed to do with you?

AnyThIng yOu WAnt! Your mind screeched, its voice echoing off the walls of your soul. I aM eMPtY anYwAY! My LIfE's NoTHiNg bUT a FlEetiNG aFfaiR in YouRS, so iT dOEsn'T reAlLy mAttER, DoEs iT?

Despite the burning lava turning your brain into a piece of coal, you felt empty. So so empty. No feeling, no meaning. Unimportant.

You needed to feel. You needed to feel. You NEEDED to FEEL! Youneededtofeelyouneededtofeelyouneededto-

"Hit me."

It was but a mere whisper, but he was sure he hasn't heard anything more loudly than this. In a split second, he left his desk and stood facing you. Your eyes, sunken and empty looked at his clearly worried face.

"I'm acting like a brat. So hit me."

His arm, quick as lightning, shot out towards you. But instead of stinging pain, you felt warmth where he pressed your bodies together. You felt the smooth material of his coat against your face and his arms tightly wound around your back and waist.

And as his warmth seeped into your skin, your being was overcome with one, simple feeling.

this isn't right

no, a slight whimper escaped you. He only held you tighter.

Even as the whimpers rose to screams, screams of pure anguish, desperation and frustration, and you started to thrash in his embrace, he didn't let go.

"No! No!! You don't understand, I-I need the pain! I need to feel it! Please!! You can’t be so calm! Shout at me, hit me, anything but this silence, please!!!"

Your stammering screams shattered his heart into pieces and he couldn't help but drop his mask of perfection and cry, while trying to shush and soothe you.

Despite the tears rolling down his cheeks, his voice didn't break once and his hold didn't falter, until you went lax in his arms. Comte looked down at you, a small part of him hoping to see you content and better, but what he saw only broke his heart further.

You were resting your cheek on his chest, your empty, dead gaze set somewhere far, your lips chapped and dry. You looked exactly how you felt.

Broken.

Your lips started moving, at first only slightly, nearly nonexistent trembles. After a few seconds you whispered "Why am I like this?"

#ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire x reader #angst #Comte de Saint Germain x reader #Ikevamp Comte #Ikevamp #tw violence #tw self neglect #tw selfharm #tw depression #Ikevamp Sebastian #Ikevamp Arthur #Ikevamp Dazai

[scummy-writes]

Better in The Morning

Rating: Explicit (Minors dni)

Words: 5703

Pairing: Theo/Arthur

Tags: Jealousy, Drinking, Blood Drinking, Anal Sex, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Light Angst, Choking, Idiots to Lovers, Biting, Theocona

Full fic under the cut!

Preview:

The feel of Theo’s tongue against his drew a shudder out. Arthur twisted his fingers into Theo’s shirt, head beginning to spin as Theo’s kisses grew rough, more demanding, making Arthur’s hands shake as he blindly searched for the buttons of Theo’s shirt and clumsily worked them. It was difficult to concentrate or even attempt taking back control when Theo kept stealing his breath, and Arthur was pleased; safe from the burden of thinking past impulses.

Three buttons undone, and Arthur’s palms spread out against Theo’s chest as they finally broke apart, gasping for breath. He watched as Theo surveyed him, taking in the sight of his hair disheveled, his slick and swollen lips. Arthur knew the heat spread across his cheeks was obvious, and when a ghost of a prideful smirk took over Theo’s features, Arthur wrapped his arms around his neck with a strained chuckle.

------

Sex was just a formula in the end: Flirting, enticing, tempting touches. Hushed promises breathed against heated skin, the shuffling of clothes along with the creak of a mattress. Slow, purposeful touches that crept faster, until thinking wasn’t needed as instinct took over.

Or, most of the time it’s how it went.

Arthur hazily looked at the woman laid bare in front of him, sweat shining on her breasts while her hands dug into the sheets. Her eyes were squeezed shut, mouth hung open as her gasps and groans began to rise higher in pitch. With such a pretty little bird beneath him and pleasure making his mind spin, how was it that his thoughts kept flitting elsewhere? Making his breath catch for other reasons; movements falter.

What a disservice to the one calling his name…

Arthur leaned over her, making her shiver with the playful nips he drew along her jaw, trailing further and further below until he could nose her pulse, sighing at the fragrance of perfume mixed with such a lovely drink. He timed his bite with a harsh thrust of his hips, feeling her nails dig into his back as she clenched around him.

It wasn’t as if it was a bore, but the only thirst quenched tonight was that of his throat. He found himself getting dressed rather quickly after discarding the condom, and the woman hazily reached out to him, barely having caught her breath and struggling to keep lucid with the pleasure still trembling through her.

“W-where are you…?”

“Ah, sorry luv,” He feigned a pout, giving a quick kiss to her cheek, “got a rather busy morning tomorrow, can’t quite risk being late.”

Granted, he wasn’t a total ass. Arthur made sure to clean up the mess they made without disturbing her too much as she faded out, but he was still out on the streets faster than usual. Huffing to himself, he stretched as he walked.

When was the last time sex felt so pitiful for him?

Deep down Arthur knew the reasons why, but he was stubborn, if anything. Refusing to give his feelings a name as they steadily bubbled within him, begrudgingly recalling a scene from earlier this afternoon. Where he had finally caught a glimpse of Theo after days on end of elusive misses; the man having been too busy to even linger for breakfast- or rather, linger long enough for Arthur to wake up and join.

He had been so excited too, walking up to try and ask the art dealer for some of his time. Only to stop when a woman seemed to join Theo, watching as her bright laughter brought on a smile he had never seen from Theo before.

It was such a small scene, and truly, shouldn’t he feel happy for his stoic friend? Instead, his throat had felt tight, a wash of bitterness overtaking him as he turned back around, finding himself heading towards visiting his favorite pub.

Now, Arthur kicked a pebble ahead of him as he walked home, unable to properly distract himself as he played the scene out over and over in his mind.

---

Arthur sighed, dropping his pen aside as he took his glasses off. Crumpled papers were littered on his desk, and his current sheet in front of him was just filled with scratched out words and ink blots. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to produce, after being awake for well over a full twenty-four hours now. It wasn’t as if his eighth cup of coffee would magically yield better results than the last.

“Blast…”

It was too late to go out of the mansion at this point, far too late to see if he could even swoon some minx into a distraction- and the appeal of that dwindled down as he remembered the pisspoor attempt from last time…

Standing up, he stretched his back before slumping.

Running from troubles were always temporary, in the end. After a while, they caught up, and Arthur knew when he had to settle in and let them run their course. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t be sour over it, hating the way his anxieties and fears would churn in his stomach, but at least his reluctant acceptance still gave him a vague feeling of agency over his own mind turning against him.

~

The parlor felt like a breath of fresh air in comparison to his stuffy room, and Arthur placed the decanter of whiskey he snatched on the side table, knowing he could be left alone to ruminate over his childish feelings in peace, nursing a glass and hoping to fall asleep. The warm glow the light gave off certainly helped him feel a bit drowsy, even if his wandering thoughts were working against him in that regard.

Arthur settled himself into the chair, pouring himself a drink as he surveyed the cover of a book. Just a harmless collection of poetry, but recalling the way Theo seemed so absorbed reading it in the salon made his stomach stir. Against his better judgement, he opened the book and flipped through the pages, scanning each stanza and wondering.

Was Theo reading this and thinking of that woman? Each flowery bit of prose bringing that same smile she had managed to drudge out as Theo thought about her?

Arthur knew he had no right to be so torn up about this, not when he had a body count that was too high to remember, but…

It still stung regardless. Pooling in the pit of his stomach, making his breaths harder to take in the longer this feeling ruminated inside. He knew that, even if he weren't so cowardly, that he hadn't a hope of pulling those smiles out of Theo. That his refusal to admit his feelings, even to himself, was what had landed him in this mess.

Of course, while he sat there bitterly overlooking poem after poem, the man he had been lamenting about comes into the parlor. At the height of Arthur’s self degradation, nonetheless.

A gruff sigh spilled out of Theo once Arthur wearily met his gaze. He didn’t say anything at first, eyes glancing at the bottle resting beside Arthur, then towards the book he held. If Theo had any strong feelings towards the poetry, he didn’t show it as he walked over, taking the seat beside him.

“Didn’t think you read the stuff.”

Didn’t think you did either. But Arthur shrugged, setting the book aside, “someone left it in here.”

It was quiet. Theo didn’t seem to have any reason to come into the parlor, but he sat patiently beside Arthur regardless, toying with the decanter’s top as time ticked by.

“How long have you been here?”

“Mm. Dunno. Long enough to wonder how long until le Comte updates his library,” he gestured his glass towards the book resting between them, “that book is older than the both of us.”

Arthur could feel Theo’s gaze on him. It wasn’t like the man was attempting to hide it, but he kept silent as Arthur took a slow sip of his whiskey with a sigh.

“Couldn’t find a ‘bird’ to put up with you tonight?”

And deal with another woman with a mothering complex trying to ‘nurse him’ back to whatever his normal was? No. He just shrugged at Theo’s question instead, raking a hand through his hair as he slouched in his seat, shaking his head, “wasn’t in the mood.”

“Mm. Finally gaining a conscience over leaving those women alone in the morning?”

The gentle prod was obvious, but Arthur ignored it as he poured himself another glass. He wasn’t sure what brought forth concern on Theo’s end. Did he look as haggard as he felt? Sleep had never came last night, and he knew that much was obvious, but what else was causing Theo’s eyes to narrow while Arthur stared into the amber liquid?

Downing it in one go, Arthur made the motion towards the decanter but felt Theo’s hand on his.

The warmth of Theo’s hand stole his thoughts away. He was so used to wearing gloves that he found himself unable to recall a moment where they had skin to skin contact before now. Skinship that wasn’t drunken brushes between each other. Arthur swallowed thickly, mind overcome with imaginings of Theo holding that woman’s hand and smiling- smiles Arthur could never evoke from him, feeling his chest clench again.

Drinking suddenly felt like a need, rather than a want.

“Theo?”

Theo blinked, swallowing when his eyes wavered with something Arthur couldn't catch, “we both know you’re a lightweight, slow down on the drinking.”

Arthur’s brows furrowed, shaking Theo’s hand off, “we’re at home, anyway, ‘s not like I’m going to cause trouble.”

“Arthur.”

“Bloody hell, what is it?” Theo recoiled at his tone. He took his time with a response, ruminating on the words for a reason Arthur couldn’t fathom, but the words just made his sudden temper worse.

“Drinking isn’t going to help whatever mood you're in.”

Silence stretched out between them as Arthur held his breath, his glass still resting on the table as they looked at each other. Theo’s concern was evident, and deep down Arthur knew that it was genuine; possibly even what had prompted Theo to come into the room to begin with, but jealousy kept skewing his perception. Arthur clicked his tongue as he finally tore his gaze away.

“It’ll help me sleep tonight,” another pause, then Arthur rubbed his eyes with a huff, annoyed at himself, “I haven’t slept for ages-”

“Drinking will knock you flat on your ass, but you know as well as I do that it’ll make you go through hell when you finally do wake up.”

“Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment-” It certainly felt like it when he couldn’t stop himself from deliberately pushing people away from him, but Theo ignored his depressive tone, yanking the decanter out of his grasp.

“Then, view this as a punishment.”

"For God's sake- you're going to do this all night aren't you?"

It wasn't so much a question, not with how Arthur rolled his eyes, finishing off his glass before Theo could think about grabbing it. "You do know there's more booze in the mansion, don't you?"

Theo shrugged his shoulders, "I know that if you're too lazy to go distract yourself with one of your 'skirts', you're too lazy to scour for more."

Arthur didn't respond, eyes closed as he leaned upon his elbow, propping his head up with a sigh.

"... What do you propose, then?"

~

At Arthur’s first stumble out of the parlor, Theo tsked and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, huffing a reprimand in the process. It was an accident, Arthur really hadn’t drank that much yet, but… He let himself be led towards his room, feeling careless ideas come to mind the longer he let Theo keep his grip.

Each step closer, Arthur considered his options, feeling his emotions battling out his rationale. What proof did he have of Theo really getting with that woman? A quick glance and Theo had no lipstick markings on his cheeks or neck, no scent of perfume… Most people were quick to spend as much time with a new partner in the beginning stages. Given that Theo rarely had any breaks from work and didn’t appear to spend his rare day off with the woman Arthur had saw, it opened two possibilities.

Either they had yet to breach the hurdle of admitting their feelings towards each other, or they had been together for longer than Arthur realized.

The latter stung at the back of his throat as he swallowed the thought down, focusing on the first. Because if they had yet to get together… Well, Arthur could do what he does best.

He smiled bitterly to himself, playing up the role of a drunk as they neared Theo’s room.

~

Excuses. That’s what Arthur needed; something to make his behavior forgettable in the morning. Something to make his shame easier to deal with the next day. He took advantage of Theo’s dazed state after they stumbled into his room, cupping his cheeks mid-scold and stealing a lingering kiss. At first, Theo seemed frozen, unsure of how to react, and Arthur’s fear exacerbated. He nipped at Theo’s bottom lip, feeling his shoulders drop with relief when the man finally kissed him back.

Theo was hesitant, his grip unfocused as Arthur managed to take the lead; distracting him as he slowly backed Theo into his desk chair, straddling him easily. When they broke apart, panting as Theo’s confused look swept over him, the taste of him still lingered on Arthur’s lips as he nervously licked them, “don’t you want a distraction too?”

Theo’s gaze narrowed for a moment. The threat of getting an answer he feared pushed Arthur to act impulsively, crashing their lips together in one fluid movement.

Regardless of how clumsy it was, Arthur was thankful when he felt Theo’s grip focus on his ass, pushing their bodies flush together and dragging out as gasp when his fingers threaded themselves in Arthur’s hair; holding him in place as their rushed kisses deepened. Every heavy breath between them reeked of ethanol, and as Arthur felt Theo slowly get harder, he pushed the thoughts of their crumbling friendship aside.

The feel of Theo’s tongue against his drew a shudder out. Arthur twisted his fingers into Theo’s shirt, head beginning to spin as Theo’s kisses grew rough, more demanding, making Arthur’s hands shake as he blindly searched for the buttons of Theo’s shirt and clumsily worked them. It was difficult to concentrate or even attempt taking back control when Theo kept stealing his breath, and Arthur was pleased; safe from the burden of thinking past impulses.

Three buttons undone, and Arthur’s palms spread out against Theo’s chest as they finally broke apart, gasping for breath. He watched as Theo surveyed him, taking in the sight of his hair disheveled, his slick and swollen lips. Arthur knew the heat spread across his cheeks was obvious, and when a ghost of a prideful smirk took over Theo’s features, Arthur wrapped his arms around his neck with a strained chuckle.

“You’re not going to stop there, are you?”

With a slow blink, Theo finally came back to the present and slid his palms over Arthur’s ass again. A surge of heat rushed through Arthur, making him bite his lip in pleasure.

They weren’t sober by any means, but neither of them were drunk. Yet when Theo suddenly began pressing his lips against Arthur’s neck, he let out a breathless, excited laugh with his groan, Arthur’s head spinning as if he had drank his limit three times over.

A brush of Theo’s fangs against his skin made Arthur thread his fingers through Theo’s locks, shivering with the teasing waves of pleasure it brought. Slowly, the chair they sat on began to creak as Arthur rolled his hips, grinding their clothed erections together with an open moan. It only took a few more desperate pushes to coax Theo into changing positions.

Arthur nearly yelped as Theo abruptly stood up, carrying him over towards his bed with much more ease than expected- only to drop Arthur onto the mattress.

“Bloody hell, Theo, I’m not a toy-” but his flash of annoyance disappeared as Theo straddled him, working his shirt off. Unable to look away, Arthur’s eyes raked over Theo’s chest, a hum of appreciation unabashedly slipping out, “... maybe we should have done this sooner.”

Theo scoffed, beginning to roughly unbutton Arthur’s shirt, looking pleased when Arthur arched into his touch. Excited, Arthur smirked as he slid his hands between them, deftly unbuckling Theo’s belt.

It was rushed, and Arthur liked it that way. Dragging out teasing touches just opened up the chance for his unwanted thoughts to consume him and take him out of the mood. Arthur wanted to speed this up, drive Theo mad enough to shove his face into the mattress and give him the mindless pleasure he craved. So he tugged Theo’s zipper down and cupped his length, a breathless laugh escaping him when Theo briefly thrusted against his palm with a low grunt.

Arthur took Theo’s open pleasure in stride, grinning as he slipped his hand into Theo’s boxers, grasping his cock and giving a few loose strokes. Already, precum was leaking from Theo’s slit, and Arthur couldn’t help the soft groan he let out when he felt it wet his palm, “all because of me, hm?”

“Something like that.”

The unintentional pout he gave made Theo bark out a laugh, which caused his lips to twist into a frown. ‘Something like that’. He’ll make it because of him, regardless of Theo’s pride.

Running his thumb over Theo’s slit, he dragged the precum gathered there in a slow, teasing circle along his glans, loving how Theo’s eyes fluttered shut with a moan, “mm, are you sure?”

Theo’s eyes snapped open in annoyance, and suddenly Arthur’s belt was roughly being undone and tossed aside so Theo could yank his pants down enough to take his cock into his hand, mimicking Arthur’s earlier motions. Giddily, Arthur thrust into Theo’s grip, letting out a content, low sigh, “finally.”

He had to wonder what he looked like to Theo, a man he was unsure of would even find pleasure in any of this before now. A flushed, sultry mess like the minxes Arthur happily devoured, tempting Theo to explore new sinful approaches to their relationship?

Arthur almost scoffed at himself, but he still played his part; tugging Theo down by his arm, demanding another flurry of biting kisses as their cocks brushed against each other. He took delight in the strained moan Theo choked on when Arthur reached between them, grasping their throbbing cocks in his hand. There wasn’t any need for words. Theo quickly began to slip his tongue back into Arthur’s mouth, thrusting in time with Arthur’s strokes, swallowing their muffled moans.

But then Theo’s fingers pried Arthur’s grip open, threading their hands together and instead forced Arthur to stroke them like that- as if they were holding hands. It shouldn’t have tripped Arthur up, not when the move made it easier for them to chase after their release, but he found his thoughts slipping back towards a different type of neediness.

It took a lot to break apart from Theo, who quickly busied himself nipping at Arthur’s neck while he caught his breath long enough to speak, “H-hey, surely you don’t want it to- ahn, end like this?”

“Mm, think you can handle otherwise?”

Arthur just chuckled, running a hand through his sweaty bangs, “don't make me beg, Theo, I'm not sure either of us could take it.”

The cocky tone earned him a harsh nip to his pulse, making Arthur let out a choked noise when Theo paired it with a squeeze to the tip of their cocks. Theo finally let go after a moment and carefully got off of him, reaching into his nightstand to pull out a jar of lube.

"I can't believe you jerk off more than sleep around, ' Arthur mused and removed his undergarments as Theo rolled his eyes, '...what does the stubborn Theodorus Van Gogh get off to, hm?"

His question seemingly went ignored as Theo came back to him, fingers slick with lube. Gently he rested his knees on the bed, nudging Arthur to spread his legs before he spread lube around his hole.

Arthur hated this. He hated the careful way Theo pushed a finger inside of him, watching as Arthur held his breath. It’s not as if it hurt- god only knows how often Arthur’s been more adventurous- but the process takes time. And asking patience from a man who was struggling as much as he was torture.

“Better tell me if it hurts, klootzak.”

He nodded, knowing Theo would stop otherwise. After a few careful pumps, Theo pressed another finger inside, drawing a content sigh of his name from Arthur. By the time the third one was in, Arthur slowly began to stroke himself, shooting a smile Theo’s way when he watched intently, “enjoying the show?”

“Wondering how you manage to keep from being a quick shot.”

"Believe it or not, I do have some self control."

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he scoffed.

The way Theo smirked as the tip of his cock started to push into him made Arthur’s arousal flare, and… Well, it didn't feel bad, but Arthur winced as Theo inched deeper, his length thicker than Arthur had initially believed.

With that slip in confidence, Theo stopped abruptly, making Arthur grumble impatiently.

"Come now, you're not going to tease me this badly, are you?"

"You're already wincing-"

"Well, I didn't realize your thick-headedness extended that far down, Theo."

Regardless, Theo carefully pulled out of Arthur, evidently ready to settle on a different method of getting off.

“If you’re that worried then,” Arthur sat up, stealing another kiss before muttering against Theo’s mouth, “lay down.”

The look Theo gave was skeptical, but he backed off. Laying down he eyed Arthur, his caution ebbing away as Arthur threw a leg over his waist, straddling him with a grin. He kept one hand on Theo's chest as he reached behind him, giving Theo’s thick length a few good strokes before steering the tip of his cock to his entrance. The anticipation that had built up in Arthur’s abdomen dissolved into a fiery heat once he gingerly lowered himself onto Theo’s cock, his quiet gasps making Theo grab onto his thighs in a flash of worry.

“Hey, don’t push yourse-,” but Arthur’s hips sank down in one fluid movement before Theo could finish, taking Theo’s cock in as deep as he could manage.

“F-fuck, Theo, I-” a shudder overcame Arthur as his own cock throbbed with need.

“Yeah? Thought you said you could take it?”

He shot Theo a bleary-eyed glare, one that barely lingered, his expression morphing into one of pleasure as he tested a roll of his hips, loving the way Theo’s length pushed back into him impatiently.

Arthur spread his hands out on Theo's chest, doing his best to ignore how fast Theo's heart was beating as he used the leverage to start an unsteady pace.

It was difficult to quip about Theo's flushed features, not when his head was already spinning from finally getting Theo tangled up with him like this. Each bounce on Theo's cock slowly made Arthur's composure slip, his speed faltering when he managed to plunge Theo's cock in deeper on some thrusts more than others.

Admittedly, it drove Arthur nearly mad; getting Theo just where he wanted him, only for Arthur to clumsily take his cock like this. Whereas Theo… Arthur hesitated, shivering from the excitement buzzing throughout him, Theo still wore a confident smirk with his skin just as flushed as Arthur’s.

"I thought you've done this before?"

"I have- y-you're just so bloody thick-" Theo's rough hands grabbed ahold of his hips, interrupting Arthur as Theo pulled him down just as he thrusted upwards, drawing out a strangled cry from the writer, "Theo!"

“Does it hurt?”

“No-”

“Then,” Theo tightened his grip, keeping up the pace and covering the speed Arthur was lacking, “stop complaining.”

And maybe Arthur really had too much to drink; he couldn’t focus on anything but chasing the pleasure of this secretly harbored fantasy coming to life. He was unable to care about the noises spilling out as Theo roughly guided Arthur’s hips to meet each thrust he gave.

The throbbing arousal coursing through him reached a dangerous peak not too long after, and Arthur’s nails dug into Theo’s chest as he attempted to regain some clarity and control himself better. But Theo slowed and stopped moving, causing Arthur to pant out a curse.

"Y-You're such a devil-!"

"Mm, doesn't seem to stop you from mewling."

Arthur’s head spun as Theo pulled out, drawing an embarrassing whine out until he was pushed onto his back. Theo's palms slid along the underside of Arthur's thighs, ass, until he grabbed his sides, pushing in deep with a lazy roll of his hips.

"Uhn- ah! Theo-" Arthur’s voice was already strained, but another groan bubbled up when Theo picked up the pace. It was obvious Theo was getting close, his jaw clenched tight as his thrusts delved deeper, harsh enough to make the bed creak in tandem.

Fumbling, Arthur tugged on Theo’s locks to crash their lips together again. Nails dug into his hips for a moment, and then Theo broke them apart, eyes narrowed at Arthur’s chuckle.

Finding a hand at his throat, Arthur lightly gasped as Theo’s barely-there grip focused on the sides of his throat. It was enough to give Arthur a chance to rasp out any type of rejection to the idea, but instead the writer dug his heels into Theo’s ass, urging him to keep going.

At first, Theo kept his hold as it was, but as he began to get closer to his release, he tightened it just enough for Arthur’s knees to press against his waist, Arthur’s eyes going hazy at the new pleasure.

And then he let go, permitting Arthur to take in a deep breath, “fuck…”

“Tell me if I need to stop,” Theo warned, but Arthur just chuckled.

“Don’t stop until you cum. You’re, ahn, just as close as I am, h-huh?” Arthur gave him a smug look despite the flush on his cheeks, despite the way his bangs were ruffled and damp with sweat; Theo gripped him tight as he leaned over, nipping and sucking a mark onto his neck, right where his collar couldn’t reach. Arthur’s cock throbbed at the sensation, feeling as though he was being claimed.

“Then- Tell me where you want it.”

"I-inside! Oh hell, Theo, I want to feel it-"

Arthur's back arched as Theo's grip tightened again, feeling Arthur clench around his cock.

"Feel what?"

Release, Arthur sucking in air as he spoke all at once.

"Want to feel your cock throb- a-as you cum, mmph. Make me feel- ghk-!"

Another tightened grip, and Arthur's eyes welled as Theo slammed into him, heavily panting as Arthur shook with each thrust. The lack of air nearly became unbearable, but just before it was too much, Theo let go. Instead he pushed on Arthur’s thighs, nearly folding him in half as he thrusted once, twice, and then spilled inside with a rasp.

The faint smell of ethanol lingered between them, mixed into the way Arthur desperately tugged Theo close, smashing their lips together in clumsy kisses. He threaded his fingers through Theo's hair, keeping him in place for just a moment, to meet his gaze when they broke apart.

"Theo."

His name is muttered as a lovelorn sigh, Arthur's eyes searching his for something, but Theo dipped his head against Arthur's neck, avoiding the unspoken confession as his fangs broke skin.

“Ah-Ah! Oh gods-” Arthur’s nails dig deep into Theo’s back and scalp, his noises turning into choked rasps as Theo reached between them, jerking Arthur off to the timing of his slowing thrusts.

Arthur lasted just long enough for Theo to pull his fangs out, to let out a string of curses as he tensed and spilled over Theo’s hand, and then Theo pulled out with shuddering breaths, forehead planted against Arthur’s shoulder.

~

It took what felt like ages for the two of them to catch their breath. As soon as the afterglow fades and a slow ache replaces it, Arthur found his thoughts immediately settling onto his current issue: Theo. Who was refusing to look at him, head still pressed against his shoulder.

Embarrassment started to creep in the longer they refused to speak.

What did you do, Arthur?

"Well, that was a nice bit of fun," he swallowed thickly, hoping Theo can't feel the hammering in his chest, "perhaps we should do this again sometime…"

Theo groaned, frustration clear, "is sex the only thing that's ever on your mind?"

"You weren't complaining before-"

But Theo finally got up, sitting back on his knees, "can you get up?"

"What, kicking me out so soon? No wonder you can only get with your hand."

"Bath, Arthur. Trying to see if you can make it to the le therme."

Oh…

~

Shame struck Arthur once they both sink into the water, the heat drawing attention to all the parts of him that ache. He was lucky his job wasn't anything like Theo's, and that he could get away with sitting on his ass all day.

Getting here wasn't as easy as he thought. All his bravado fizzled away when it became apparent just how hard they had gone at it, and Arthur's stumble when getting up prompted Theo to…

Well, he's just thankful no one saw how pathetic he looked getting here.

Arthur sank a little deeper into the water as the silence between them stretched out, glad the heat was helping his lower back. But the longer they were quiet, the more Arthur’s thoughts rushed; had anyone else heard them? What was Theo thinking right now?

Had Arthur just ruined whatever was built up between them, or were those feelings completely one-sided?

An annoyed tsk caused him to glance at Theo, who was rubbing his neck.

“Did you have to leave a mark so high up? How am I going to explain this…”

Ah… now that he was looking at Theo in the light, he noticed his desperation all over him. Lovebites along his neck and collar, Theo’s hair still mussed and scratches along his shoulder… At the thought of others catching a glimpse, Arthur felt his jealousy simmer.

“I think it looks good,” looked like he’s taken, at least.

"I feel sorry for all those women you sleep with if they wake up like this. Tch, I look like a fool."

Arthur wasn't sure what to feel. Proud? Sated? There was a sliver of joy humming inside of him; he finally got a taste of what he'd been craving for so long. But guilt and fear were quickly taking ahold of him, unable to keep himself from wondering just how bad he screwed things up.

"What does this mean now?" The question slipped out as soon as he thought it, and Arthur felt his ears burn as Theo shrugged.

"You said you wanted a distraction, and you got it."

Ouch. But he did deserve that, he supposed.

"So… We just go along like this never happened?" Theo gave him a noncommittal grunt, and Arthur kept on, "Theo, just humor me, will you?"

There was a sigh, Theo rubbing the back of his neck, "I don't know what answer you want, Arthur. For fucks sake, neither of us were thinking."

"Doesn't this have higher stakes for you? What about that pretty bird you keep taking strolls along the Seine with?"

Theo froze, giving Arthur an incredulous look, "you mean Mr. Garnier’s wife?"

Arthur went quiet, feeling heat in his cheeks as he processed Theo's words, and the accompanying embarrassment. Weakly, he stammered, "i-is that the only woman you've… you've been seeing?"

And Theo, the bastard, burst in laughter as a response. Not quietly either; loud enough to make Arthur's ears ring as the foolishness of this situation sunk in.

"Theo, for gods sake-"

"Is that what this was all about? Is that why you were in such a mood earlier?"

Arthur covered his face, his pride washing away, "my god man, do shut up."

His laughter continued until it faded off into a chuckle. Seeing Arthur still unable to look his way, Theo finally relaxed, wrapping an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and tugging him close.

“Come ‘ere.” Arthur still doesn’t speak, but Theo slowly continues, choosing his words carefully, “is this really why you’ve been moody lately?”

“At this point, does it really matter if I give an answer?”

Reviewing tonight’s events should have been enough of an answer, but with the reluctant confirmation, Theo just gives Arthur a half-hearted squeeze. It made Arthur finally relax his shoulders, no longer hiding his face.

“I’m… Not good with these things, Arthur,” No, he wasn’t. It was another reason Arthur had been so surprised to see him happily with another woman. But now, knowing all of that jealousy was pointless, to an extent, well… Arthur kept quiet as Theo continued, “even before arriving here, when I didn’t have so much weighing me down, I wasn’t good at this. But…”

Theo trailed off before taking another deep breath, “if this is genuine... then I’m willing to give it a try. With you.”

Surprised, Arthur looked over to meet Theo’s gaze- only to see the man was turned away, the tips of his ears reddened.

“‘I’m not good at these things’, he says…”

Theo turned to shoot him a glare, only frowning when he realized it let Arthur see just how badly he was blushing.

“I’m trying.”

Chuckling, Arthur felt his anxieties start to ebb away, “you really want to do this? With a mess like me? If this thing goes south, well…”

“I’d be handling this ‘mess’ in one way or another, regardless.”

“Very romantic, Theo. Thanks.”

The quip eases them both with the laugh it brings, and this time the quiet that stretched out was comfortable.

“We’ll need to talk about this more, in the morning, but for now,” Theo slipped his arm around Arthur’s waist, relaxing, “don’t work yourself up. We’re fine.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“You’re not the only one good at reading others, you know.”

Arthur merely hummed in response, letting that comfortable silence come back.

It felt odd, to say the least, to even consider getting into a serious relationship. Years of waving off most chances at happiness caused an almost knee-jerk reaction to do the same here; to chase Theo off with showcasing the worst of him. But Theo had already seen all of that.

There was still the chance of this not working out, or working out in the way they planned, but Arthur finally let himself rest against Theo, choosing to ignore those obnoxious worries at least for tonight.

------

I've discovered a friend can innocently send me a song saying it makes them think of a shared favored ship, only for me to dumbly open a word doc to scramble in a fic inspired by it.

I've wanted to write a longer Theocona fic for a while now, I didn't think it'd be like this, especially given how it's. Rusty. But if you read through it all: Thank you!

While I love these fools, I'm not too sure when the next time I'll write another fic for them. Theo's really hard to write, and I have so many older wips I need to finish... Maybe sooner than later I'll have another, but an established relationship themed one...

Thank you again for reading!

Masterlist || Ikevamp Server

Tag list (Please DM/Send an ask if you'd like to be added/removed):

@aeoncryptic @anianakin @judgemental-seal​ @shookspearewrites @stehkotori @niintendoqs @otomefoxystar @blu-tigerr @jazzellen @cinnatwisted @buswilligan @tacogawa @kim-stitches @passionatebooklover @rinringo23 @aurora-morning @kimmy-banana

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire theo #theocona #smut #they really are just idiots but I love them

[crazyfreckledginger]

Mozart x Reader - “Dating Amadeus Mozart Would Include...”

Requested by anon: “Hey, can I ask for an imagine of what daiting Mozart would be like?” + “Hewo. Can I request an imagine of what dating Mozart would be like?”

A/N: Sorry this took so long!! T-T speaking of long, this headcanon turned out to be ridiculously long, apologies!!

Warning: smut at the end.

You were a vampire who was old friends with Le Comte.

Having broken contact for a long while, it was quite a surprise when you popped into the mansion one day to visit him.

Quite the pleasant surprise for him. 

He even

You met all the other residents then and some were much nicer than others.

One in particular was a little too friendly.

*cough cough* Arthur.

But it did shock you how rude some of them could be.

Truth be told, it did strike you how incredibly rude Theo was specifically because of how stunning and arrogantly attractive he was. 

Mozart was the second on your ‘rude list’, he was so cold with sculpture-like beauty and it was captivating.

His demeanor was the only thing that made you look away from him because how can one be so beautiful and so RUDE!!

You met Leoardo as well and you understood how he was such a close friend to Le Comte.

You weren’t as close to the pureblood, being somewhat of a lone wolf and the fact that you weren’t a pureblood yourself. 

And since you didn’t like all the trouble and danger that came with that higher vampire status so you both agreed to steer away from each other and he’d come to visit when the coast was clear.

Leonardo was one of the decent ones so far and you knew he was a good guy only because he was a good acquaintance with Le Comte.

The latter saw this and proposed that you should accompany Sebastian when he goes into town to buy groceries.

It didn’t seem like much but it would be a good first step to getting more comfortable in the place. 

You had the unfortunate luck of sharing the carriage ride with Mozart. 

It was comforting having Sebastian there since he made the atmosphere less awkward.

Curiously, Mozart seemed on edge being in the carriage, you didn’t know what that was about but you didn’t bring it up, knowing he’ll throw a witty or salty comment your way.

Mozart begrudgingly came out when you were in town and muttered something under his breath, walking away.

Seeing your confused expression, Sebastian explained that the pianist needed a little walk in town to buy more paper since he ran out of sheets. 

How can one of the most famous pianists up to date have such a foul attitude?

You gave him the benefit of the doubt though.

Only because he kept quiet for the ride.

Helping Sebastian made you feel great, you felt like you can give a bit back for the trouble Comte went through for organising a room -- even just letting you stay.

But also because this was a new town and it made you feel a little more at ease, you had a feeling you’ll be staying here for a while.

The sun was starting to set by the time the three of you had come back together and started heading home in the carriage. 

The next few days were surprisingly quiet, even Theo wasn’t as mean.

Apparently, any impression from the first to the last isn’t relevant to him at all.

It was one night where Arthur asked for some Rouge at an ungodly hour of the night after feeling peckish, you didn’t want to bother Sebastian with how much more work he had decided to take on.

So you did it for him. 

And you could get a secret treat as you were there hehe. 

Unfortunately for you, Mozart was down there as well, getting a little energy boost while he was writing.

And even more unfortunate for you, the door locked on it’s own, and not wanting to be on Comte’s bad side, and, since the door was one of the primary things that kept the smell of blood in.

Having heard that there are a few residents that have an unstable control over their thirst, you decided that you wouldn’t break the door down for their sake.

There was no need for a commotion.

You would have been more peeved off but you knew what they were going through, you were there before.

So you were both stuck in the basement, among blood.

Maybe Arthur would have noticed you didn’t return with his drink and come find you? 

Well, he didn’t and he just fell asleep. 

Most probably dreaming of women.

However, this nearly sleepless night of yours actually made you and Mozart closer.

Turns out the rude pianist you met was actually nice under that cold and reserved nature of his.

You were tolerating each other now and slowly learning about each other. 

Sebastian found the both of you in the morning, your cheek against his shoulder, his head leaning against the wall as you slept on the floor.

Needless to say you were both embarrassed when Sebastian woke the both of you up.

He raised an eyebrow at you, remembering how you came up to him a few days ago, desperately wanting to know why some of the residents were so handsome but so BLUNT!

After that, Mozart surprised everyone when he asked for your help, wanting to have your advice on a new piece he had been working on because something didn’t sound right.

A month or so passed and you were getting on with everyone in the mansion.

Even Theo!

Well, it was come and go.

Everyone knew at that point that Mozart had grown quite fond of you. 

You were still confused and steered clear of Arthur because you were sure you were

Comte had requested the residents to attend a ball one of his old friends was hosting  just for good fortune.

It was chaos when everyone was getting ready and then having to sort out the carriages.

But finally, you all arrived.

You hadn’t been to one of these fancy parties in a long while. 

Being a little intimidated, you subtly gravitated towards Mozart since you felt a little more comfortable around him.

He didn’t protest when you clung onto his arm.

And he couldn’t care less if anyone had any ideas about the both of you, at least no one would try to get close -- or so he thought.

That evening, it was the first time you saw Mozart playing a complete piece, let alone three or four for the audience.

It was indescribably captivating, and noticing yourself be so entranced with his performance -- like everyone else, your ears started to burn as your cheeks flushed. 

You realised you liked him more than an acquaintance, friend, any word that described a platonic relationship.

When he finished, everyone applauded him and you needed to turn back to your drink, wanting to down these emotions you didn't want to have. 

It didn't work, it only made Mozars chest inexplicably tighten as he turned around to see your back. 

He shook it off as he removed himself from the piano. 

Almost instantly, he was swarmed with people. 

You expected as much and downed your drink. 

Just as you place your drink down, leaned back in your chair and started breathing easily, someone slid Jean's now-empty seats beside you.

Lazily, you looked over and perceived a man you couldn’t recognise.

“Do I know you?” you inquired, bitterness invisible under your tone.

He had a look in his eyes that showed that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Not yet,” he smirked. You raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Not ever,” you retorted, standing up.

But he grasped your wrist.

“Don’t be impolite now love, let’s finish our conversation.” his smooth, calming voice was a shocking contrast with his very tight grip against your skin.

“This conversation is finished,” A familiar voice interrupted the conversation, slapping his arm away with strong force.

Said man’s arm slid around your waist and pulled you into their chest. 

From the corner of your eye, you recognised the silver hair and relief washed over you. 

“Go away.” Mozart glared at the man.

Whilst trying to maintain his dignity -- or the little he had left -- the man slowly stood up, glancing at the both of you and walking away.

“Thank you,” you murmured. 

“Are you avoiding me?” he whispered. 

“No,” you turned around with flushed cheeks.

Watching the look in your eyes that was holding an emotion that made his heart lurch, though he didn’t understand why it made him feel that way.

He held your hand, dragging you into another empty room.

“What’s wrong?” you inquired when he closed the door. 

His hands clasped around your upper arms and his eyes scanned you like he was checking for injuries.

When in fact he was trying to understand the look you were giving him.

“Why did you look at me like that?” he stared at you suspiciously.

Your cheeks burned yet again.

“No reason.” you decided to hug him, it still made you flustered but you didn’t want him to see your face.

Mozart slowly returned it, a little shy himself. 

After a bit, one of his hands released it’s hold from around your shoulder and his fingers grasped your chin. 

Your eyes widened, knowing what he was about to do.

His breathing caught in his throat once he gazed over your face.

You were gorgeous. 

Wow, he was really in love with you.

No matter how much he tried to deny it and suppress it.

When it’s real, you can’t walk away.

Your eyes glanced down to his lips and you leaned in, kissing him softly. 

His grip tightened around you, and he deepened the kiss, cupping your cheek to keep you close.

You spent the next few minutes in each other’s embrace when the kiss ended. 

“We should go back, everyone must be wondering where we are.” you murmured.

He hummed in response, squeezing your hand and following you outside.

And that’s how it all began.

Needless to say that at this point, no one was really surprised at this point that you were dating, Mozart was obviously smitten with you from the beginning.

He became more protective of you than before for obvious reasons.

Mozart isn’t the most comfortable with PDA, if you want to hold his hand in public, however, he won’t complain.

The vampire loves it when you cuddle up on his chest, bury your face in his neck or chest. 

You like placing his head in your lap and playing with his hair.

Also wearing his shirts with nothing under it. 

A lot of talking before you go to sleep, about everything and everything.

Always going on trips into town with him when he needs anything because of how he gets in carriages. 

You do tease him to this day about it just to see him a little grumpy but he loves you too much to get mad at you.

Always bringing him coffee when he’s working hard on a piece and sometimes massaging his shoulders when he’s been so tense hovering over his piano.

Sometimes dragging him into bed when he’s worked so much and you want to cuddle.

When you go get rouge, you always pop by his room and give him a portion, you always make sure he eats enough and it means you can spend your lunch break with him.

Neither of you really get jealous of anyone, of course there are some exceptions. 

Mozart does get annoyed when Arthur flirts with you, it gets under his skin.

You’ve also become really good friends with Jean, and whenever you have an argument, you go to him for advice after cooling down since he’s known your boyfriend for longer.

He does spoil you alot.

And communication has become easier in your relationship but there are always rough patches right?

Mozart isn’t the best at comforting you when something happens, but he does a good job at changing the subject and your state of mind.

He can really take your mind off of things. 

Again, communication is still not the easiest for him so expressing what’s on his mind or emotions can be a little on the difficult side.

Teaching you how to play the piano. 

Tiny back hugs when you’re in the mood to prepare food for him.

He picks up your favourite meals as well and will try his hand at making them for you. 

Mozart is a really soft soul and he’s always so considerate and observant, he knows when something has happened but not always the best at guessing what that might be.

SMUT

He always wants to make sure you’re happy, so he’s down for anything you want.

Mostly sweet sex that can be a little bit on the rougher side in terms of pace.

Mozart is okay with experimenting so you’re always trying something new.

He has relatively high sex drive but he’s so good at hiding it that it looks like it’s not that high. 

Hickies on you, he can be pretty kinky when he wants.

Going down on you is a regular thing if you’re into that. 

Pulling his hair and digging your nails in his back. 

Slow, sensual, fast, rough, whichever you want, he loves all of them.

Whatever time of the day you guys want.

He doesn’t like quickies though, it’s too rushed and not satisfying. 

You guys can go for a while.

Whenever you guys are finished for the time being, he likes kissing you roughly for a few moments, savouring the last sliver of lust that was left over before cuddling and taking care of each other until you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Comments, votes and feedback improve motivation, writing and publishing, so it is in your best interest to leave some! :)  

Want to be tagged? Let me know in whichever way you are the most comfortable with!

Tagging: @lumifuer​ @ijustwantmyshipstobehappy​ @plethora-of-things @xlatinaaxx​ @lostnliterature @batette​ @schweeeppess​ @gearsinice​ @mizmahlia​ @tina8009 @alex--awesome--22​ @disa​ @caswinchester2000​ @towa-no-yume​ @shrimpalompa​ @ikemencrossedmyth​ 

#mozart #mozart x reader #amadeus mozart #amadeus mozart headcanon #mozart headcanon #mozart hc #amadeus mozart hc #Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart #wolfgang amadeus mozart x reader #wolfgang amadeus mozart headcanon #wolfgang amadeus mozart hc #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire x reader #ikemen vampire headcanon #ikemen vampire hc #ikevamp #ikevamp x reader #ikevamp headcanon #ikevamp hc #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp mozart x reader #ikevamp mozart headcanon #ikevamp mozart hc

[juminly]

Sugar & Spice

Matchup story written for @nafeary. ❤

Context: From the moment you walked through that door, you made yourself at home (at an incredible pace). Some of the residents were more than pleased to have someone new in the mansion, someone that could stir things up a bit and make things a bit livelier. And others (mostly Mozart, Jean and Isaac) wondered why they would even hope to disrupt the semblance of peace that they have.

You were surrounded by geniuses of all the arts and you were definitely going to take advantage of that. You took the time to spend time with each one of the residents or they would even invite you to spend time with them. Mozart told you about his music and would let you listen while he composed (after you made him understand that you would not leave him alone cause this is an opportunity of a lifetime that you wouldn’t miss), history and warfare from Napoleon, physics from Isaac and the list goes on and on.

One of the residents that seemed to be irritated by your presence was Theodorus. Or at least, that’s what you thought. He always had snarky comments, stating his opinion even when he wasn’t asked. It only seemed that you argued all the time.

[The few times that he’s called you “Hondje”, the punches he got from you were enough to make him stop. You were not all bark, you would bite too (he loved that but never admitted it)]

But that wasn’t the truth. You could call it “intellectual tension”. You were constantly engaged in debates without you noticing it. Theodorus had a wealth of knowledge when it came to the arts, appraising assets and had a keen eye for talent and genius.

He saw something in you and sometimes deep inside him actually believed that he didn’t really have anything to teach you and he somehow had to prove himself.

The day that brought you closer together was a very very weird idea from Sebastian. This man suddenly comes up with things and everyone has to go along with him because he always puts it under the guise of “this was advised by Monsieur le Comte”. He had prepared a cooking lesson where he taught you how to make the most delicious pancakes. Theodorus had a ferocious sweet tooth and if pancakes were involved, he would definitely play nice. And since he was guaranteed a plate stacked with over 8 pancakes, for the first time since you arrived, both of you actually had a nice time together, teasing one another about your techniques and talked about everything and anything that crossed your minds.

From that day and onwards, you would often bond over pancakes (and even go on walks) and he’d be interested to know about the exploits of other artists in the future (and see how he can learn from the information you have to give him).

[he once said: “are you ready for your walk, Hondje?” and you made him regret him by refusing to talk to him until he apologized profusely and in front of all residents for  his insolent behaviour]

As an avid lover and fanatic of Shakespeare and English literature in general, almost every single resident in the mansion froze when you mentioned his name. Except for Vincent. He was delighted to take you to see him.

In Theodorus’ mind, Shakespeare was a threat. To his brother and to you (he didn’t necessarily care about you [that’s what he tells himself] but you were the Comte’s guest so all residents had some sort of responsibility to ensure your safety]. He never liked him and he never will. He recognizes his genius but could clearly see, in those dichotomic eyes, an abyss of grief, darkness and sin. The man was starved for his muse and the universe to bless him with inspiration to create more art. And Theodorus didn’t want you to be a victim of that. 

[Shakespeare was no threat to you. He was pleased by your fascination with his work and enjoyed your conversations. He noticed the younger Van Gogh’s behaviour and knew for a fact that there would be other individuals who would have a part in your story. He would have to sit this one out and just watch.]

Everytime you and Vincent had a visit to Shakespeare’s place, Theodorus would escort you there and back. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t give a damn but something inside him wanted to interact more with you. He knew that you could possibly open more doors for him. He noticed that you had an eye for things, very perceptive and analytical and your curiosity was your best trait. The more information you get, the better decisions and arguments you can make.

On your way to and from Shakespeare’s place, you and Theodorus would sometimes take detours while Vincent would go buy painting supplies. The younger Van Gogh would take you to art galleries, ask your opinion about other artists’ pieces and as time went by, he started taking you with him when he’d try to negotiate deals for certain venues. You would help him assess the locations, the type of public/audience that surrounded the area and debate on whether it would get the right exposure for Vincent’s art.

The more you both interacted with one another, you discovered that you both might seem like you’re rough around the edges but what drives you the most is your curiosity and your desire to uncover/discover the broad horizons that the world actually had to offer. Theodorus believed in you and knew that you were capable of so much and was so glad that you found yourself in the mansion with all these men, to learn and be who you aspire to be. 

After a while, Mozart was so used to your behaviour which was bizarre to him but completely normal to you. You didn’t take it personally cause Mozart thought everyone was weird. Listening to the composer just play, day and night, ethereal music just swimming in the air and coursing through your body. You would close your eyes and enjoy the music, and sometimes, even dance to it.

Theo passed by the room a few times and thought that you were probably out of your mind… Then after a few times, he couldn’t help but sneak into the music room and dance with you. He was surprisingly light on his feet and it said a lot about his upbringing, something that he was not fond of talking about, but you couldn’t blame him for it.

Genuine smile and seemed like he was enjoying himself, he held you up and twirled you around, letting your feet land on his so he could do all the leading and you would just have to enjoy the ride. Dancing together, your laughter was enough to earn you both a good scolding from Mozart, however, you could see the slight quirk in the corner of his lips. He was pleased to see others thoroughly enjoy his music.

Your interactions with Arthur were always interesting. And this man had a thing with harassing you in the hallway, inviting you into his room, leaning in close, wanting to show you all the joy and pleasure a vampire has to offer. It became more of a joke and a type of banter you would engage in with the mystery writer. However, Theo was not aware of that. He happened to pass by one of your interactions one day and didn’t hesitate to growl loudly at Arthur for making a pass at you, even baring his fangs at him. [He was then so embarrassed to know that both of you were just joking around and immediately left with a disgruntled expression. (you definitely saw a pout also!)]

One day, Arthur was feeling very playful and invited you out to hang out with him at the bar. He had a few games in mind and he had a lot to “teach you”. Even with his sneaky attitude, you tagged along with him and had quite an eventful night. Arthur played a few rounds of poker with some other patrons, with you at his side. He gave you tips on how to read people and pointers on how to find their weak points and tells.

When the clock struck 11, Arthur excused himself to the restroom, leaving you surrounded by the other patrons who took it as an opportunity to make a move on you.

And who just happened to enter the bar at the same exact moment? The younger Van Gogh. (Well played, Arthur).

Theo’s eyes almost flashed at the sight of those men, leering so disgustingly over you. In the blink of an eye, he was by your side and glaring daggers at them. “If you value your own life, I suggest you all stay put in your seats. You, come with me.” Unsure on whether he should take you by the hand or not, he stepped aside and gestured for you to join him with his hand.

One of the men did the grave mistake of trying to reach for you and you could almost swear you heard Theodorus threaten to cut both his hands off if he dared to touch you. 

Once you made it to the table, you saw how flustered the man was and the crease between his eyebrows was so deep. It wasn’t a look that suited him but it obviously amused you to see him in a state like this (in a situation that has nothing to do with his brother).

Theo: Why on earth are you here at this godforsaken hour? Toni: Theo… you need to relax.

Theo: Easy for you to say, Hond… Toni. Do you even realize what those men were planning to do to you? Toni: It doesn’t really matter what they were planning to do. I wasn’t going to let them do anything to me anyway. You know me. Plus, I’m not even here on my own. Arthur was with me. Theo: *his frown only got worse and he covered his face with his hands, rubbing hard* That son of a… Toni: *you leaned closer to him, rubbing your thumb between his brow* As much as I like seeing you like this, this expression doesn’t suit your smug (and stupidly) handsome face. Theo: *he scoffed and a crooked smile appear on his face* Handsome, huh? Toni: Oh, shut your mouth. It’s not like you weren’t really aware of that.

Theo: *exhales and shakes his head* Arthur got me good. 

Toni: Huh? Theo: He knows that I believe you’re a masterpiece… I can see it in your eyes. You’re so strong, so fierce… *he gently takes your hand and kisses the inside of your palm* Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious… *he keeps talking and it almost seems like he’s pouting, his cheeks tinted in the most adorable shade of pink* You’re a treasure that I’ve come across…You’ve become so precious to me and… I can’t let you go. *he pressed a soft kiss on your lips* I don’t want to.

You told him from the very start that you were asexual. Theodore was not shy to ask you any questions about what that meant and to learn more about you. If anything, It taught him to look at things in a different way, especially in how he expressed his love to you.

When you became lovers, you discovered that he has trouble sleeping and barely manages to get a few hours a day. He worries too much about his brother, about the future of his art and whether he’s actually capable of getting people to truly recognize his work. Apparently, he spends all night just reading books and occasionally drinking. But, not for long!

You would force the tall boy in bed and force him into a death-grip cuddle so that he can’t distract himself with anything else but focusing on laying by your side, your warmth and your voice. You would hammer the truth into him, lay it on thick and you knew for a fact that he would do the same for you. You would tell him all the things he needed to hear and know, tell him where he should try to grow and also know when and how to let go. No sugar-coating and no poetry or romancing involved in it. Both of you kept things real all the time which is something that you adored about one another.

If you touch the ridges of his ear, he’ll get awfully ticklish and call you a “monster’ and you couldn’t help but grin at that and say  “I’m your little monster”.

That was enough to make this grown-ass man all blushy and mumble something along the lines of “Don’t be so full of yourself”.

His weakness is whenever you actually make him feel like he belongs to you and you belong to him.  

As a token of his love for you, Theo came up with an interesting idea and wanted both of you to share something that reminded you of one another. He gifted you a pair of amethyst earrings (your horoscope gemstone) but there was a catch. One earring for you and the other for him. So you both went to get your ears pierced in the same place and wore it with pride.

He acknowledges the fact that you have your limits and boundaries and he fully respects them. Relationships are all about giving and taking.

He vowed to you that he would not take blood from another and only drink Blanc and Rouge. He cannot fathom the idea of drinking from another human but you. It went without saying that, only if you were willing and actually wanted to, he would gladly drink your blood. From which part of your body? He didn’t give a damn, even if it were from the tip of your finger, he would be satisfied to know the taste of the blood that courses through your vein, the taste of the life in you. As a vampire, he can’t help his instincts in wanting to consume the blood of his beloved.

He gets a bit flustered if he gets hard and usually just jerks himself to get it out of the way. He also enjoys it when you talk to him while he’s pleasuring himself, reminding him how much you love him (Nothing makes him happier than when he hears those words from you, even if they make him blush) and whenever you feel like giving him a hand, he’ll never actively ask for it though.

Theo did the stupid mistake of teasingly asking you for a kiss and smirking at you. He’d expect you to get on the tip of your toes and try to reach for his lips. What he didn’t expect was for you to punch him in the gut and grab his face and kiss him while he was hunched over. Smug bastard got what he deserved but he was pained and happy nonetheless.

Arthur can’t help but chuckle whenever he sees how Theodorus looks at you or acts around you. He’d tease him and say that you’ve tamed the wolf and turned him into a mutt.

And you’d simply reply back by saying “Maybe it was just meant to be” and didn’t that just draw a shit-eating grin on your boyfriend’s face (he stopped calling you Hondje a long time ago).

Places he kisses to show you affection: your wrists and temples.

Bonus:

Dazai would always use the following nicknames “curious little thing” and “curious little creature” just to tease you.

But your boyfriend was having none of that. Theo was not taking any of that and the writer’s intentions were more than clear to him. He’d sneer at him with “This little creature is mine. Make sure to remember that.”

It’s as if Theodorus knew, that if he didn’t approach you in time… Dazai would be the one to snatch you since he’s your runner-up suitor. ;)

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp Theo #ikevamp Theodore #ikevamp #ikemen series #otome #matchup #i hope you like it <3 #theodore van gogh #submission

[beni-draw-ikemen-please]

Kintsugi ~ Repairing with Gold

Kintsugi ~ Repairing with Gold  ◆ Ikemen Vampire Fanfiction ◆

CHAPTER 2 - STARS IN THE SKY

Words: 3,923

TW: Angst and Hurt ◆ References to Depression ◆ Mental Instability ◆ Mental Health Issues ◆ Implied/Referenced Suicide ◆ Suicidal Thoughts ◆ Graphic Depictions of Sex/Intercourse ◆ Vaginal Sex/Fingering ◆ Rough Sex ◆ Non-con

Pairings: M/F  Leonardo Da Vinci x Seiya Amanogawa [OC] / Comte de Saint-Germain x Seiya Amanogawa [OC]

Chapter Index [ 1 ]  [ 2 ]  [ 3 ]

                                ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

A/N: This is a work of fiction.  This is fan fiction for Ikemen Vampire, character designs are owned by Cybird. My story however, features my own OC/MC Seiya Amanogawa who is from Modern Japan/Europe, who travelled to the Louvre for inspiration.

I have the AO3 link up my fic list but I decided to post it here as well. Sometimes, I’d edit some typos in AO3 but won’t update the original file. So there may be some difference >.< Also, no beta :p sorry. I only write for fun and release, but I hope you’ll enjoy this self-indulgent fic. Happy reading! 

                                           KINTSUGI - CHAPTER 2

                                                  Stars in the Sky

                                     ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Leonardo remembered being summoned that day. It wasn’t particularly any special day. He heard about the commotion — someone passed through the door — or so he heard. He dragged his feet and yawned as he walked towards Comte’s room. A gloved hand rubbed the back of his neck, one big final yawn before he pushed the door open. 

Platinum. And blue. The bluest blue he’d ever seen. 

“My name is Seiya,” she spoke too softly, almost like a whisper. Almost as if she didn’t want them to hear her at all. She did something similar to a courtesy, only it was more like a low bow— something Dazai or Sebas would do, he thought. 

Leonardo’s eyes stayed on her as she listened to Comte’s explanation about the basics of the mansion. How her expression changed with every sentence, and how her shoulders tensed when she heard about the month-long wait etched itself into his memory. Leonardo found himself reaching out to her. And the girl instinctively pushed his hand away, a soft shriek escaping her pale lips. Eyes of the bluest blue focusing on him. 

“Scusa,” Leonardo then took off his coat, lazily and with a heavy sigh, placed it on top of Seiya’s shoulders. Seiya sounded like she had stopped breathing, at that moment. Her eyes stayed on Leonardo. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” Leonardo offered her a smile as he sat next to her. 

He almost slept through Comte’s explanation, but his hand stayed on her shoulder. She looked like she would be cold, he thought. Her hair was long, but not too long. Reached just below her shoulders. It was swept on one side, and the other side partially covered her face. She wore men’s trousers, but they seemed tighter than what he would pick out for himself. And she seemed to wear a work man’s boots. But her blouse looked like they weren’t much protection for the cold. It looked like silk, at least, to him it did. It was secured by a string that wrapped around her made of the same material. Her shoulders were exposed. Leonardo thought of the many ways 19th century Paris could take advantage of someone like her. Her eyes looked like a soldier’s eyes — tired from war — he wasn’t particularly sure why it looked like that to him. Maybe that was one of the reasons why Comte was more protective of Seiya. 

Deep into the night, he heard glass breaking from the kitchen and Leonardo found himself calming Seiya down once again. That’s twice today, he thought. She trembled under his arm. She held onto him with desperation and fear, and her eyes seemed to be screaming “save me”. 

Leonardo held her close and that’s when Seiya gradually felt comfortable. More comfortable with him. It was safer there. 

With him, he assumed. 

Tears started falling from her face, Leonardo felt it in his shirt. He tried to soothe her by rubbing her head, casual yet familiar. He found himself hushing to her, softly. 

He promised to stay with her, and guard her door just so she could get some sleep. That night, it was really just him talking. Seiya only looked at him without a word. But eyes never left him. 

The morning after, he remembered waking with aching shoulders. And a fresh Seiya crouched down to his level. Curious eyes seemingly waiting for him to wake. His head and neck and back throbbed, but he soon forgot all those things when she grabbed him lightly by the sleeve. Her face was close, too close. 

“Good Morning.” she whispered with a meek smile. 

                                     ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Leonardo hated waking up in the morning, or just waking up in general. But that morning was different, vastly different from all the other mornings he’d lived so far. Something so ephemeral and bright greeted him a good morning, and he thought that maybe mornings won’t be so bad if she would be the one to wake him. 

He and Comte introduced the girl to the residents during breakfast. Her cheeks turned a slight pink hue as she apologised about her French. But all the same, surprising the Van Gogh brothers with her firm Goedemorgen. 

Leonardo carefully watched Seiya in those first few days, keeping his promise of guarding her door every night. 

He was glad that she got along with Vincent and Isaac. Must be something about the quiet types that make them seek each other out. She had trouble getting along with Theo and Arthur and oddly enough, she too, spoke Japanese with Dazai and Sebastian. Seiya didn’t share much about herself at first, but Leonardo was content to see her speak to Vincent often. Most of the time they would just sit there and draw or paint or fiddle with things. Sometimes they would talk for hours. 

After a week, Seiya felt more at home with the residents. And she would often tag along Leonardo’s adventures out in the city. She would watch him as he worked odd jobs here and there. She would stick behind him closely though, because she felt conscious and anxious of her french. And she was particularly afraid that people would know she was foreign, or at least, she wasn’t from around town. She was very particular about those things, and Leonardo took mental notes. 

It wasn’t really that she looked physically different, no — she could blend in and at the same time stand out. Leonardo wanted to ask her so many questions, but he was willing to wait it out. He wasn’t the most patient man, but maybe for this little one, it would be better if he tried, even just a little bit. 

That evening, as he sat by her door, Seiya called him for the very first time. 

Up until that moment, she would just greet him and speak short sentences. 

Thank you, she’d say. 

Okay, she’d whisper. 

At first it really ticked him off. Made him think she still felt afraid around the residents, particularly him, because she wasn’t like this with Vincent, no. But that evening, Leonardo felt himself stand abruptly as he heard Seiya call his name, his hand was ready to open the door, but he stopped himself. The door creaked open slowly, and there she was. 

“What is it?” he would laugh at himself, right there, he would. At how eager he was to know exactly what she needed, how he could be of service. 

He liked it whenever she looked up to him. Her eyes were so blue, like the clear skies of summer. And her hair almost resembled the soft sunlight that peeks through the curtains in the early mornings of spring. A mellow kind of bright, the kind that soothed the eyes and not blinded them. A soft kind of glow, like the full moon at midnight. 

She looked surprise to see him so eager, and then she looked away. Cheeks turning a hue of pink. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” he liked it whenever she looked up to him. 

He liked watching her carefully speak words, softly pressing her lips together and then taking deep breaths before every sentence. He enjoyed seeing her like this. It was the same vibe she had around her whenever she’d spend her late afternoons with Vincent. Leonardo enjoyed thinking about the fact that maybe, just maybe, Seiya was getting more and more comfortable around him. 

He smiled, and gave her a gentle pat on the head. “Guess I’ll sleep in my room from now on.” 

As he turned to leave, he felt a soft tug on his coat, Seiya looked confused and a little sad, at least to Leonardo, it seemed that way. 

“You,”  Seiya usually didn’t say much around him, aside from monosyllabic responses. But that evening proved to be a first of many. Seiya tugged his coat softly, leading him back inside her room. The soft glow of the lamps reflected onto her pale hair, making it seem like she too, looked golden. 

“You can sleep here, if you like.” Leonardo’s eyes curiously widened with interest and almost shock. He searched for intention in Seiya’s face. But what scared him the most is how casual she asked him to share the same bed. He was taken aback. His fingers reaching for the crook of his eyebrows trying to find comprehension amidst it all. There she was, dressed in her nightgown, and with a straight face, she asked him to share the same bed. 

Even for someone like Leonardo, it was a little intense. Quite frankly, he thought it was more that he wouldn’t be expecting something so bold from someone like her. But maybe, he had judged her too early. She was still and quiet as she waited for his answer. And she looked almost pensive trying to expect what answer Leonardo would give. She stepped back a bit, letting go of his coat. 

“I guess, even if you’ve lived for centuries, you’re still old-fashioned.” She chuckled. Very softly, she chuckled. And Leonardo found himself raising his eyebrow at her. Was she making fun of him? What? For being old? Her soft laughter was new, and picturesque and infectious. 

Soon, they were both laughing. Seiya apologised for asking, but Leonardo brushed it off, took off his coat, and shared the space just across from where she slept. 

                              ��       ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Leonardo learned more and more about Seiya when he took her shopping for new art supplies. He asked her during breakfast if she’d be willing to accompany him get new paper and new pigments, and her eyes lit up like he’d never seen before. 

She hummed on their way to town and he chuckled at how she looked more like a child on her way to a candy store than a lady out on a date. He would tease her and she would open her mouth to protest, but would stop and look away blushing. Leonardo found life in the mansion more exciting now, even though he didn’t want to openly admit it was more or less because of her. 

As soon as he greeted the shop owner, Seiya dashed to where the special papers were. She marveled at how “old” they looked. Not necessarily in a bad way, at least he hoped so. 

“I guess we have another artist in the mansion. Sorry I didn’t ask earlier, Cara mia.” his comment was left unanswered as Seiya was too busy eyeing the quills the store had behind glass. The inkwells that looked too beautiful to be real, at least to her. 

Leonardo let her roam the shop on her own, whilst picking up his usual requests. After a while, she settled with a red leather sketchbook, some paint brushes she picked up for Vincent, a bottle of ink and some quills. 

“Are you sure? Our dear Comte said to get you whatever you wanted,” Leonardo thought she might have wanted more things. Like a new canvas or some paintbrushes for herself. But she thanked him and held her new notebook like a treasure. “This is enough.” she whispered with a smile. 

He couldn't quite remember when it started but Seiya always had her new notebook with her. And in the afternoons, after all her chores, she would spend them by the gazebo drawing, scribbling, maybe even just writing. On most days, Vincent joined her. 

Sometimes, she would spend the day with Isaac. And she would sit there listening to his lectures. At first Isaac didn’t want her around. He didn’t want anyone around, quite frankly. But Leonardo guessed that in some odd way, she was stubborn enough to stick around and Isaac didn’t really have the energy to continue pushing her away. Or maybe they grew to enjoy each other’s company, much like how it was with Vincent. The three of them would often have tea. He enjoyed seeing the quiet ones interact more. 

When he would walk towards them, everyone would stop and look at Seiya, who would be collecting her things and would wave them goodbye. 

The end of day would always end up with them, spending their evenings together. He would often stay in her room, it was cleaner and more convenient, he thought. He would be on her floor, with his papers, or with the current book he’d be reading. And she would be by her desk, writing letters. She never put them in envelopes, he noticed. But she would tuck them on paper pockets she pasted on the leaves of her book. Leonardo would lean in and try to watch her as she folded small pieces of paper so carefully and quietly. 

They spent a lot of time together just working, just creating, writing, sleeping, but not much else. 

Leonardo knew Seiya was at ease when he was around and he intended to keep it that way. Three weeks in, and she would still just quietly sit at the dinner table whilst everyone interacted. She would often sit next to Comte, and he would sit across from her. 

Leonardo would watch her as she wrote her evening letters. Every single day without fail, she would. When he would walk towards her desk, she would quickly tuck them away, and would leave a blank page of her book open once he was within hand’s reach. 

“I thought you’d be drawing,” Leonardo’s hand leaned on her desk. And slowly, very slowly, moving to reach her hand. His fingers tracing hers, pointing at the ink stains by her fingertips. 

“Shouldn’t you be drawing?” she had this annoying habit of throwing the question back. 

Seiya did not mind it whenever Leonardo touched her. They sleep together every night after all. She did not mind his presence, if anything, she actually enjoyed Leonardo’s company. It was just difficult for her to actually express that. She would often wake up before him. And she would spend a good half an hour just watching his sleeping face. She wouldn’t touch him, no, but she’d watch him before she got up and got ready for the day. Often, she’d get ready and leave the room and he’d still be sleeping in, way even after breakfast had been cleared. 

A few weeks in, it had been a couple times now when some of the residents would see Leonardo waking up and leaving Seiya’s room in the morning. Most of the residents, including Sebas and Comte, say that they are now lovers. It’s hard not to think that, especially when they spend almost all of their time together. Leonardo swears he only sleeps next to her and nothing more. But as days went by, he couldn’t swear by it anymore. 

He remembers it so vividly, the first time they did. 

It was one of her so-called good days. She had been talking about the new sketches she did with Vincent. She loved plants and flowers, and Leonardo found it endearing how easy it was to please her. A small pot of flowers or herbs, sometimes, if the Count felt like splurging, tropical flowers like orchids — rare, delicate, and out of the world he knew that was 19th Century France— little trinkets she might consider pretty and unsual, would be enough to soothe her mood. That particular day, he brought in an empty perfume bottle, and he filled it with indian black ink. Got some hemp twines and used it to secure the bottle cap. And with his signature mirror-cursive, wrote stelle nel cielo.

He smiled, whilst thinking of her and how the light seemed to bounce around her when she faced him. In the dark of the night and with the lone lamp lighting her room, Leonardo leaned his back against her headboard. His coat was off, and his boots here set aside by the door. He was relaxed, like how he’d always been around her. Their evenings together were his favourite, and it became sort of an unspoken rule that no one would bother Seiya after dinners had been cleared, because she would be with Leonardo. 

He leaned and relaxed as he listened to her breathing. She sat incredibly close to him. He had his own notebook, with his notes, and there, in her hand, her pen.

 “Sebas told me your names have meanings,” His golden eyes settled on her and how she tilted her head in confusion. “Like phrases that correspond to each, what word did he use, character.” Her eyes darting around the room in thought. And she got her brush pen. 

“Sebastian’s name… Let’s see. Akihiko,” Seiya wrote what looked like chinese characters in his notebook. “The meaning would depend on the characters used. I don’t know how he writes it, but the meaning depends on it.” And he was most intrigued and impressed. His eyes examined and traced the characters intently. 

“We’ll have to ask him tomorrow,” she chuckled a bit, noticing the interest and excitement in his eyes. She learned to read some of the subtle ways Leonardo would express himself. Though she can’t fully understand and comprehend him, and he is terribly good at hiding his true emotions, she was happy to know that he can let down his guard around her, especially like this. When they are together. 

“What about your name?” Leonardo set his book on the bed and pushed it towards her again. His arm gently resting on his knee in front of him. A curious smirk across his lips. His face radiated a soft and warm hue, most probably from the lamp, Seiya thought. But the warmth that surrounded Leonardo was not so easily describable. She thought he was like the sun. Like the first spring day after a long and harsh winter. The sun rays, fresh and bright after days of rain and grey. 

She smiled, a soft smile, her pen between her pale fingers. Leonardo could only stay still and watch. As she leaned down to write on her lap, the side of her hair that wasn’t swept back would fall and cover her face. And whilst she’s focused on her characters, Leonardo felt his hand tuck the strands of her hair behind her ear. 

He was closer now, but Seiya didn’t feel the shift of weight on the bed. She was too busy making sure her kanji wasn’t a mess. For a brief moment, she was surrounded by the strong scent of cigarillos, and the familiar scent of Leonardo’s hair. 

His warm fingers gingerly brushed the tips of her ear and she felt her cheeks warm up. 

“Here,” her hands showed the finished writing of her name. But her eyes stayed on Leonardo’s, as his on her. His other hand traced the freshly-written characters and slowly, very slowly, closed the book with her pen stuck in the middle. Her hand instinctively settled on his that was now holding the side of her neck. He was closer, much closer now. 

“Seiya,” Leonardo’s husked voice trembled on her skin. And the way he touched her that night, felt so different than how he would usually. They would often touch, and in some mornings, they’d wake up in each other’s arms — but really, nothing more. 

Leonardo watched her as she slowly licked her lips, and spoke softly, like she would always do. “My name has the characters that mean star,” the way she softly hums and whispers became something of a comforting ritual for Leonardo. Her words and phrases, her responses and the way she calls his name became something meditative and addictive. A trance he consumed like a drug, he needed it more, even more than how he thought he needed his cigarillos. 

He was unable to hold himself back. 

He thought he could write the book on self control, at some point. But clearly, that night— how she looked with the glowing lamp light— something inside Leonardo snapped. His hands settled on the side of her neck, and he was ready to pull her close. But he tried so very hard not to. And she, was right there, and she looked so incredibly beautiful to him. All he could do was lean in and check for himself how soft her lips were. 

Leonardo’s lips on hers were light. Incredibly light. 

It felt like he was almost afraid to kiss her. Like feathers softly landing on your hand from the heavens. Seiya inhaled him, though he did not press hard, the kiss was long, and sweet. His lips did not move, but just stayed there on hers. She felt her eyes close, and with a slow and long breath in, her hands pulled him by the sleeve and she slowly opened her mouth to invite him in. 

Leonardo felt her gulp, and she moved herself so she was now closer to him. And his hand pulled her from the nape, and in just a few seconds, a deeper kiss. She felt his mouth take more of her in, and she noticed how careful he was to let her get acquainted. Seiya let her hand lean back as he pulled her closer to him, deeper into the kiss, and closer to his body. 

He would breath after a while, but not breaking the kiss. And Seiya felt herself drowning in the familiar and intoxicating concoction that was the scent of him, the tartness of his cigarillos and something with notes of velvet and maybe something mauve. Similar to a mixture of the smell of old books and leather, and metal, and sometimes, wood. All these things that make up the renaissance man, and something more that she couldn’t describe. 

“Seiya,” he whispered in her ear, pulling her close, his hands holding her head as he buried his face in her hair. How warm he felt that evening— a different kind of warm that what she was accustomed to— Seiya would always remember. How her name sounds with his silky husked voice, and how tightly he was embracing her. Seiya could only embrace him back. Her head leaning on his shoulder. 

“Seiya means star, Leonardo.” she whispered to him whilst he stayed there, stroking the back of her head. 

“Sounds perfect.” he whispered back. Peeling himself away from her embrace, his hands settled on her shoulders, she was now looking up at him. Eyes of the brightest summer skies staring at him, cheeks the pinkest pink tainted with golden ambient light. Lips that looked so tempting, so enticing and so delicious to him, his reason failed him after weeks of restraint. 

“I’m sorry I kissed you,” his hand how running itself down the back of her head. An apologetic smile across his face. Golden eyes settled on her pale lips. Pale lips now moist from the kiss. But there was no disappointment on Seiya’s face. 

And as Leonardo searched for something, anything that he could reason with, something to make him leave, something that would tell him he shouldn’t be there with her, he should be outside, he should be in his own room, or the library—  anywhere else but there—  Seiya’s hands slowly moved to his collar, and with a tight grip, pulled him closer towards another deep kiss. 

She whispered after a few seconds. Her eyes determined and accepting, almost as if she could see through what he’d been repressing for the past few weeks. Almost as if she could read his mind, and how badly he’s been wanting to kiss her, and taste those lips that chant his newfound drug. 

“Don’t.” 

-To be continued-

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #Onibeni Seiya #Ikemen Leonardo #Ikemen Comte