#comte: wh

[onegianthotmess]

It’s Teatime!

Summary: Faust’s reject experimental elixir somehow made its way into Amelia’s sleepytime tea one night and she woke up as a little girl! And, being the only resident with any free time to watch the maid-turned-child, Isaac got roped into shenanigans by an Amelia that is ten times more chaotic than normal!

You guys can thank @natimiles for this! This is mostly for them and for my little wormy brain, but I hope you enjoy regardless!!!

“Why do I have to look after her?” Isaac asked Comte, uncomfortable with the small pair of eyes on him. Amelia, who was now about the age of five or six, hadn’t stopped staring at Isaac since he walked into the room and it really made the scientist rather uncomfortable and tense. “Couldn’t Napoleon just take her when he goes to teach the children in town? Or maybe Sebastian could watch over her?”

“Well, Napoleon already left, Sebastian has some pretty big chores and shopping for dinner to handle, and everyone else is too busy. And even if some of the others were free, I don’t trust some of them with looking after a child, especially a small girl who’s practically an evil genius as an adult,” Comte sighed apologetically. “And I have a few things to sort out today, so you’re really the only one who can look after her, Isaac. And, if this predicament doesn’t disappear tomorrow, I’ll have Leonardo look after her so you won’t have to. So, could you please do this just for today?”

Even though a small part of him wanted to, Isaac knew he couldn’t really argue with Comte. The only real plans he’d had for his day were to catch up on some reading and possibly start reading the new encyclopedia Comte had bought last month since Leonardo finished it last week. So, with a small nod of understanding and agreement, Isaac led Amelia out of the nobleman’s room and into the hallway.

Once out in the hall, Isaac couldn’t help but stare back at Amelia, who hadn’t looked away from him for even a second, out of nervousness. Had Amelia blinked even once since she’d begun to stare? The scientist couldn’t be sure.

“Uh-Uhm…Wh-Wha-What would you like t-to do?” Isaac stuttered out awkwardly, hoping that the question would divert Amelia’s complete attention from him, if just a little.

To Isaac’s relief and surprise, Amelia looked of to the side in thought. The thought of giving Amelia too many options and too much power in this situation briefly crossed Isaac’s mind, but it was far too late now. And it was especially too late when Amelia perked up and grabbed Isaac’s hand and began to pull him down the hall towards her room.

And, despite being five years old now, Amelia pulled Isaac along quite easily. He may not have been a very big man, being the shortest in the mansion and not the most physically powerful out of the residents, but he still naturally had quite a lot of strength as a vampire. And yet, here he was, being pulled down the hall by a five year old Amelia as if she still had the same amount of strength she did as an adult.

Before Isaac could internally question Amelia’s peculiar strength any further, he felt a tug on his sleeve. Cherry blossom colored eyes looked down to see Amelia gripping onto his sleeve and pointing at the door. Isaac then looked to the door to see the problem; Amelia was just a bit too short to reach the knob. The doors in the mansion were definitely custom designed and the knobs were a bit higher than a standard door design, so it made sense that Amelia couldn’t quite reach well enough to get a good enough grip to actually turn the knob and open the door to her room.

Isaac waited for the child to nod her head before he opened the door to her room only for her to pull him inside and pull him to one of the plush chairs. Taking the hint, Isaac sat down and looked down at the brunette girl who looked at him a moment to make sure he’d stay put before she smiled…and ran off.

Isaac’s first instinct was to go after her, but he wouldn’t even know where to look. It was hard enough to understand Amelia as an adult, but he couldn’t even begin to understand the woman as a child! So, the physicist stayed put so he wouldn’t be wandering around aimlessly and possibly worry the brunette girl if she came back and he wasn’t there.

Isaac didn’t have to wait long, however, as Amelia quickly returned with a basket in tow. And it was definitely quite heavy for her, seeing as her body was almost pulled down by it when she set it down. But, after a few moments catching her breath, Amelia perked up once more and pushed the basket over by Isaac’s feet before she opened it.

And the physicist watched with shock, and the question of where the brunette girl got her supplies so quickly in his mind, as Amelia quickly spread what looked to be a small spare tablecloth on the coffee table in front of Isaac and began to set things on the now covered table, including a tea set with three cups, three plates and three forks, serving utensils, and an entire apple pie. Where and how Amelia got those things and put them in that basket without breaking anything or making a mess, Isaac would never know the answer to that particular question no matter how much he’d ask or how long he’d stay up at night pondering it.

When Amelia finished setting up the table, she quickly moved to tug on Isaac’s hand, signaling for him to stand. The physicist did as he was silently told and let Amelia pull him to her closet before she stopped and turned to look up at the cherry blossom eyed man with a smile.

Seeing the confusion on the man’s face, Amelia explained her intentions. “You have to be dressed right to have tea,” she said, making the physicist tense up.

“D-Dressed right?” Isaac asked, now getting nervous.

He knew that he was small enough to fit Amelia’s adult clothes, with them being a bit long and loose on him due to Amelia being taller than him and quite a curvy woman as an adult. But, the idea of wearing those clothes, made Isaac shy and internally panic.

What if someone came home and walked in, seeing him in women’s clothes? What if he messed up one of Amelia’s favorite pieces that Comte had bought her? What if it was something expensive?

The physicist was pulled out of his panicked thoughts when he felt a tug on his pant leg. Isaac looked down to see the small brunette girl giving him puppy eyes.

“Please, Isaac?” Amelia asked. “I’ll make sure you’re very pretty and you can have a big piece of pie, too.”

Amelia always had a knack for convincing Isaac to do something. She never asked for anything big, but it was still impressive how easy it was for her to convince Isaac to do something for her. Maybe it was how patient she’s always been, or how she babied Isaac in a sort of motherly way.

Either way, Amelia’s convincing skills were ten times more affective when she was a child with some of the biggest and cutest eyes Isaac had ever seen.

Isaac sighed, “O-Okay. You can d-dress me up.”

Amelia beamed up at him and immediately began to look for something to put Isaac in, pulling aside dresses by their bottoms to get as good of a look as she could get of them. When she found one, the brunette’s peach colored eyes lit up and she looked to Isaac with a silent request, which the physicist understood and immediately took out a cream colored sundress, clearly from the 21st century from the style of it, with a print of peach-pink lily of the valley flowers printed at the bottom. It was simple and it would most definitely fit Isaac, even if it would be a bit loose and long on him, especially in the chest.

Amelia clapped her hands in pure joy as she fully saw the dress. It was perfect, especially with the peach-pink colored flowers at the bottom, and all she had to do was get things to put in Isaac’s hair and he’d be ready to have tea. The brunette girl quickly pulled Isaac to the changing screen in the room and left him there to rush to the vanity to try and find any hair accessories that would match the dress Isaac would wear.

Meanwhile, Isaac’s cheeks went as pink as his hair and eyes as he stripped out of his usual clothes, save for his underwear, and placing them on the stool that was also behind the screen. Once his regular clothes were off, Isaac looked to the dress that he’d hung up on a hook on the screen and his cheeks went a slightly darker shade of pink as what he was about to do was really hitting him. It wasn’t that he loathed the idea, as he’d rather see Amelia happy than feel guilty for making her cry, it was just the embarrassing idea of being caught dressed in women’s clothing that made him apprehensive about putting on the dress.

After a moment, Isaac was able to not think about those embarrassing thoughts for a little bit and he began to focus on how to put the dress on. Stepping into it and pulling it up would probably pop a few stitches and ruin it a bit, so the only other option was to pull it over his head. It took the physicist a moment, but when he figured out which way was the front, he managed to slip it onto his body.

The dress was loose on Isaac, as he expected, but it gave him anxiety as he felt it would slip off at any given moment. Then he noticed the pink ribbon that looked like it could tie around the front of the dress. Isaac quickly put two and two together and tied the ribbon comfortably around his front into a secure bow, making sure it looked nice so Amelia would be pleased and so that he wouldn’t have a crying girl on his hands.

Once he was sure he was done, Isaac quietly stepped out from behind the screen and walked over to Amelia, who was digging through a drawer full of what looked to be hair accessories. After a moment, the brunette perked up when she found something that pleased her and took it out of the drawer before turning to be met with Isaac in the dress she’d picked out for him. Amelia’s mouth stretched as wide as it could as she beamed in awe at Isaac, clearly very happy with the dress she’d chosen.

Amelia took another short moment to admire Isaac in the dress before making a motion signaling the physicist to crouch down to eye level with her. Once Isaac had followed the silent instruction, the brunette girl gently placed a white headband on his head. It was soft and didn’t hurt the sides of his head, thankfully, most likely being something that Amelia had with her when she’d first arrived through the door from the twenty first century.

Her peach colored eyes sparkled up at the man before she pulled him behind her so he could look at himself in the mirror. And Isaac didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t really be mad at what he saw reflected back at him.

The dress fit nicely with the bow secured around the front, the pink accents brought out his eyes and hair, it suited his complexion as well, and the headband was sort of like the cherry on top of it all. Isaac really didn’t mind how he looked in the mirror, not that he’d wear these clothes outside or around the mansion for everyone to see, even if it would be very embarrassing to be caught dressed like this.

“You’re so pretty!” Amelia beamed. “And now we can have tea and pie!”

The brunette hopped down from the bench she was standing on and led Isaac back over to the coffee table by the hand. She pulled him to where she wanted him to sit before she rushed away to the closet as Isaac sat down on the floor to pull out what looked to be a stuffed animal. But, it could really be called an animal, due to the fact that it had the word “MILK” embroidered on the front and had strawberries on the front as well, thus implying it was most likely strawberry milk. But why did it have two black eyes and a smile then? Why did the eyes stare into his soul as well?

“Amelia,” Isaac asked, “what is that, exactly?”

“Hm?” Amelia hummed with a smile as she gently set the plush across the table from where the physicist sat cross legged on the carpeted floor. The brunette then looked to the tag attached to the plush and smiled. “It’s a Squishmallow, silly! Her name is Amelie and she’s a carton of strawberry milk! Isn’t she cute?”

“Where did you even get it?” Isaac asked, still a bit uneasy from the big eyes of the plush sitting in front of him. “And ‘squishmallow’ isn’t even a real word.”

“Well, if I remember right, I’m pretty sure the nice Comte man went through the big door at the end of the hall to get some of my things for me a month or two after I started living here,” Amelia replied, squinting as the thought hard. “At least I’m pretty sure that’s what he told me. He went over everything when he went back to get me and told me where everything was, too. But he did say this is my room, so I should know where things are to make it a bit easier to live here.”

“I see,” Isaac murmured, figuring it best to just be satisfied with the answer he was given rather than press for more. Amelia was forgetful of important things enough as an adult, even worse as a child.

Amelia moved to the tea pot on the table and picked it up, holding the lid down as she tipped it and a white liquid poured out from the spout and into the cup in front of the “Squishmallow” that sat across from Isaac. It took the physicist a moment to put two and two together, but he eventually realized that it was just milk in the tea pot. It made sense after all, considering Amelia wasn’t a big fan of tea and found the tea at the mansion was particularly too bitter for her tastes, even with plenty of sugar in it.

Amelia poured milk into two of the three cups on the table, switching out the full cup of milk on front of her plush for the empty one, before she set the tea pot down and sat down, looking to Isaac.

“Would you cut the pie, please?” Amelia asked, thankfully knowing she was too small to handle cutting a pie by herself. She’d probably end up cutting off a finger or something if Isaac didn’t do it.

Isaac simply nodded and cut two pieces of pie, handing one to Amelia. The rest of the little “tea party” was spent in comfortable silence as the physicist and the maid-turned-child ate their pieces of pie and enjoyed each other’s company. The two even managed to finish off the pie, which wasn’t too bad as it was only a couple inches and more of a small desert that even one person could easily finish by themselves. The two continued to enjoy each other’s company as they played simple card games and Isaac continued to play dress-up with a very happy Amelia.

Eventually, both of them fell asleep on Amelia’s bed, the brunette girl curled in the arms of the physicist as they both slept peacefully through the night.

However, the next morning, Isaac was met with panic as Amelia was gone. He looked in every corner of the bedroom, only to find that he was alone and the brunette was missing. But, before Isaac could panic, the door to the room opened and the physicist was met with the sight of Amelia leading Leonardo into her room, the Renaissance man still looking quite drowsy. That drowsiness quickly melted away, however, when Leonardo locked eyes with Isaac dressed in one of Amelia’s sundresses and a headband.

“Cara mia, did you dress him up?” Leonardo asked, looking down at a very proud looking Amelia.

The brunette nodded with a smile, “I made him even prettier!”

“I see,” Leonardo replied before looking to the mortified physicist. “She didn’t force you into it or threaten you to do it, did she?”

“I didn’t want to make her cry and that possibility was the only threat I needed,” Isaac replied quickly.

Leonardo nodded, “I can see that. Well, I can take things from here, Isaac. You can change and I’ll watch the bambina for now.”

Isaac nodded and quickly went behind the changing screen where he left his clothes. He shortly came back into view of the Italian man and the brunette girl with the dress he was wearing folded neatly and the headband placed on top. He placed them down on the coffee table away from the dirty dishes that still needed to be taken care of before he went to the door to leave, only to stop and look back.

“I- uhm…Have fun?” Isaac offered with a shy wave before he left the room and disappeared down the hall.

“Wasn’t he so pretty?” Amelia asked with a smile.

Leonardo chuckled, ruffling the brunette’s hair before smiling, “Si, cara mia, he was so very pretty.”

Well, there you have it! I’m very sorry it took so long, but at least it’s done! Now I can work on Jane and Theo! PREPARE TO HAVE YOUR HEARTS BROKEN AND MENDED!!! MUAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH!!!

#someone draw isaac in this dress and headband please- #you can even add little shoes and lace tights if you want #i just wanna see isaac in this dress #or draw the scene of him sitting down to ‘tea’ and pie with me and a squishmallow #because why the fuck not #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire isaac #ikevamp isaac

[yanderepuck]

What if Vincent got to the mansion a year before Theo.

(Vincent died in 1890

Theo died in 1891)

Theo believes Vincent was murdered. It all points to murder. At least that is what he is telling himself.

Comte brings Vincent back, but Theo is still alive for another 7 months.

Vincent gets used to his life in the mansion. He never lost his memory, he's just chosen to ignore it for the most part. He has to be careful when he goes into town because there is a possibility that he could run into someone he knows, and everyone knows he's dead.

He tried to move on from his family and not try to check in on them. He had no clue how Theo was doing, he was trying to focus on himself. Trying to get better. But his depression and schizophrenic episodes followed him into his vampire life.

He had no clue Theo even died...until a few months later when he shows up at the mansion.

Vincent doesn't have the heart to tell him that he shot himself. No one but Comte knows. Theo keeps asking him who shot him. He doesn't want that person to walk freely. Vincent just tells him that he didn't get a good look at the person. He doesn't know who shot him. It's much easier than telling him the truth.

Theo might be the little brother but he's gotten really protective over Vincent. Those few months without Vincent were the worst months of his life.

He's not sure how to tell Theo that he isn't any better. He's thankful for another chance at life, but this also means he's able to hurt himself without much consequence.

He does it just a little to help stabilize his mood. A small relapse can be justified to prevent a larger breakdown, right?

No one is going to see, he's always wearing long sleeves and his jacket after all.

But now that Theo is back he doesn't get much time alone. Not enough time for that little relapse.

He loves his little brother with his whole heart, but what did Theo come back for anyway? Something about Theo made him remember how his parents treated him, and how he was never good enough no matter what he did.

"Broer?" Theo knocks on the closed door to Vincent's room.

He panics for a moment and quickly pushes his sleeve down "One moment!" He puts his coat on, not even concerned that the blood might seep through.

He quickly opens the door, smiling brightly at his taller, little brother. "I'm ready, let's go!"

~

He didn't get back until late that day. His arm stung but he paid it no attention, not until he walked into his room and leaned back against his door, his smiling dropping

He dropped his scarf to the floor, then his coat. His eyes were closed. He didn't want to see how much of a mess he made. How much he messed up. Theo is back and he shouldn't be doing this.

He opened one eye, then the other, looking down at his arm. How there managed to be no blood on his jacket he didn't know.

As he walked to his closet, he took his shirt off, tossing it under his couch. He grabbed a stash of bandages he kept in a box and wrapped his arm to stop the blood from getting on anything else.

Taking deep breaths he changed his clothes and laid down. He's starting to hear the voices again. He can't always understand what they are saying but he knows it's not nice.

"Leave me alone already," he covers his ears and shuts his eyes. "I don't want to listen."

~

In the next few days Sebastian was gathering laundry, going from room to room to grab clothes. As he was in Vincents he saw a white shirt kicked under the couch and grabbed it. It wasn't until he laid it on top of his pile that he noticed the browning stain.

"What that..?" He picked it back up and looked at it more closely. His eyes widened when he realized what it was.

Vincent walked into his room at the same time while holding Brush. He smiled at him as always "Morning, Sebastian. Do you need-" the act immediately dropped when he saw what he was holding. "Wh-where did you get that?"

Sebastian immediately walked past him and closed the door.

"S-Sebastian," he tries to chuckle. "It's not what you think.. it's just-"

"I've cleaned enough things around here to know what blood looks like."

Vincent froze. He held onto Brush tighter to calm himself down, petting him gently.

"Care to show me?" Vincent immediately shook his head. "Master Vincent... This is one of the few times that I'm not asking."

"I-it is healed already. N-nothing to show," he backed up and Sebastian came closer to him, worried that he'll grab his arm.

"Then how about telling me why? Did becoming a vampire not help with your issues?"

"M-my.. issues?" It's easy to forget that Sebastian is from the future, let alone what he actually knows.

"In and out of hospitals. Your history of harming yourself. Your attempts of killing yourself. I know what happened. I guess becoming a vampire can't cure mental issues."

"P-please! Just don't tell Theo. He can't know. Please..."

His grip on Brush became a little too tight and he jumped out of his arms.

"As long as you come to me or Le Comte for help then I don't see why not."

"I-I'm sorry," tears start to stream down his face resulting in Sebastian quickly embracing him. The tears come down faster. "I want it t-to stop."

Sebastian rubs his back gently. "You aren't alone. Everyone here cares about you."

Sebastian holds him for a time, not letting him go until he is ready. "You're an amazing person. I'm glad to have met you. Why don't we clean up your arm properly, okay?"

Vincent sniffles and just nods, letting him go. Sebastian buries the shirt in the laundry pile so no one coming by will see it, and goes to the bathroom with him.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp vincent #umm #this ended up being more than i thought #tw #tw self harm #tw sh #tw suicide mention #im also on the verge of relapse rn #that mainly when i write these

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Vlad: I've come to offer you some friendly advice.

Saint Germain: Vlad, I don't want your advice.

Vlad:

Vlad: Well then, consider it unfriendly advice.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #mild comte rt spoilers #okay listen i made this post #about three days before le comte's rt came out fully kidding #AND NOW I GENUINELY CAN'T DEAL WITH THE FACT THAT THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED. #vlad: :(((((((((( my bestie is sad #also vlad: i know just the thing to cheer him up! world domination! #comte: wh #comte: VLAD I DONT WANT THIS #vlad: :( #vlad: >:( #vlad: thought you were fam.......turns out you're just weak #like unironically im laughing at how accurate this post is #comte: i would like to maintain human freedom and dignity #vlad: i cant hear you over the sound of unilateral despotism #its kind of sad the premise reminds me a little bit of stars wars for some weird reason #they have similar desires but w o w do they go about it differently to put it l i g h t l y #but this exchange is literally vlad's entire character #oh you don't want to listen to me???? WHY DONT I SAY IT LOUDER AND MORE THREATENINGLY #sir pls #sir you are hot as all hell pls dont vibe check us like this #oh well im having a grand old time if you couldnt tell #comte if you're out there i still love you you big mess #ikevamp incorrect quotes #source: tumblr #now if you'll excuse me im going to go right back to drowning in the man of my dreams

[evil-quartett]

Napoleon: *sobbing, setting up missing signs of Jean"

Comte: Wh- Did Jean go missing?

Napoleon: No, I just think everyone should see him because he's beautiful

#F A C T S #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp incorrect quotes #ikevamp comte #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp jean

[qshara]

Just random thoughts of Ikemen Vampire

I once thought of the idea that when "reborn" as vampires, they would literally be reborn, like, they would wake up in the mansion as literally babies, going through their childhood and adolescence for a short period of time, like...a month of adaptation? I was hilarious at the idea of ​​Comte trying to raise a bunch of brats on his own, before Sebastian arrived

Leonardo: -wake up by the crying of a baby- Huh?

Comte, with a little William in his arms: You won't believe what I just did

Little Arthur: Tell me a story

Leonardo, tired of taking care of so many children: -sigh- Okay. Once upon a time there was a little bear that was hungry and the end

Arthur: And what happened to the bear?

Leonardo: He went to buy food. The end

Arthur: Why was he hungry?

Leonardo: Because he hadn't eaten

Arthur: Why?

Leonardo: Because he was working

Arthur: What for?

Leonardo: To earn money

Arthur: What for?

Leonardo: To buy food

Arthur: Wh-

Leonardo: Good night

Comte: -carrying a little Isaac on his back- Being a father is a lot of fun

Leonardo, trying to carry three babies and prevent the other four from fighting with each other: Fun?

Teacher: Your child was in a fight

Comte: Oh no, that’s terrible!

Leonardo: Did he win?

Comte: It's called cauliflower, not ghost broccoli, mon petit

Little Mozart, eyes wide: I know what I saw!

#ikemen #ikemen incorrect quotes #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen comte #ikemen leonardo #ikemen arthur #ikemen isaac #ikemen mozart #ikevamp comte #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp arthur #ikemen william #ikevamp william #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp mozart

[touch-starved-apprentice]

why putting me/my mc in the 1890s would be a nightmare [ikevamp]

(Mozart’s route):

Mozart: Why are your shoes so...tall?

Meg: to do this

Meg: *pushes Arthur off of the chair next to her*

Arthur: WHY

Meg: you tried to bite me last night and you don’t expect me to be salty?!

Mozart:

Mozart: I think we’re going to get along well.

———

(Mozart’s Route):

Mozart: Please don’t threaten to fight anyone at this ball.

Meg: No promises

Meg: *blasting Joan Jett* I don’t give a damn bout my bad reputation.

———

Meg: and so she threatened to hit me and I was like “deadass? on god?” and she swung so I drop kicked her

Le Comte: Ma cherie, do you need therapy?

Meg: I mean yeah but that’s not the point

———

Meg: hey

Meg: you wanna talk about mental health until two in the morning?

Vincent: yes :D

———

Theo: He wasn’t going to pay the artist well so I bought it before he could. He got angry and tried to start a fight, so I finished it.

Vincent: tea sis

Theo: wh

Vincent: kick his ass king

Theo: what did you teach him?!

Meg: lmao nothing he taught himself

———

Meg: be gay, do crime.

Dazai: what crimes are we committing?

Meg: I’m between tax fraud and arson. Maybe overthrow the government?

Arthur: I think you’d be particularly good at vandalism.

Meg: oh I absolutely would

Issac: can we please, for once, NOT?

———

Meg: at least four of you are bottoms or switches.

Sebastian: Oh, really?

Arthur: Prove it, then.

Meg: Easy

Meg: Mozart and Issac can do math, but

can’t drive or cook

Meg: Vincent and Issac can’t sit like

normal people

Meg: and every time I do this *pulls on Arthur’s collar until he’s face level with her*

Arthur: please step on me

Meg: He does that.

Dazai: sounds legitimate

———

Jean: I’ve never had a reading done before.

Meg: oh honey

Meg: *pulls three of swords reversed, death, and the devil reversed*

Jean: That...does not look good.

Meg: no, actually, this is really good. You’re letting go of past pain and bad habits in favor of a fresh start. damn, dude, how much self loathing do you carry?

Jean: yes.

———

Theo: Hondje.

Meg: Theodorkus.

Le Comte: I wasn’t aware you two disliked eachother.

Theo: What are you talking about?

Meg: He’s like my best friend now dude.

———

Arthur: I promise, if you let me have a taste, I can bring you the best pleasure you-HEY

Meg: *bonks him with a sketchbook* GO TO HORNY JAIL, SIMP.

———

Meg: I once made my homophobic great uncle stfu

Theo: Huh?

Meg: He was looking at my pride patch and had this look like he wanted to say shit but it was the first time he’d seen me in years and I looked scary, goth, and taller than him and I have him this look like “talk shit get hit” and he shut his mouth real fast.

Theo: H A THE HONDJE DOES HAVE A BACKBONE

#incorrect ikevamp #ikevamp mc #meghan macsugar #meg macsugar #tw homophobia mention #ikemen vampire #incorrect ikemen vampire #ikevamp memes

[alby-rei]

Hold On Tight (Dazai x Reader)

a/n: AAAAA Thank you so much, my lovely 🥺🥺💕💕 *sips iced tea to hydrate* Sending you lots of hugs!! I had a lot of fun with this one and went about it a little differently than I initially planned, so I hope you enjoy >///< 

(I hope you’re not afraid of heights) Happy Reading!

Wordless “I love you” Prompts #49: Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

summoning the dazai simps ✨ @celmanics​  @dazaiswindow​​ 

[Full title]: Hold On Tight (Unless You Want to Fall)

[Genre]: Humor, fluff, pre-relationship

[Word Count]: ~1300 words

[Warning]: Heights, Unsupervised/unsupported house climbing

[Requested by]: @daisiesandshakes​

 ~*~

“Dazai, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course, Toshiko-san. I climb up the mansion all the time.”

“And how often do you climb while carrying another person on your back?”

You didn’t hear a response right away. Dazai hummed to himself as his hand searched for the next overhang to support his weight on. You tightened the grip of your arms and legs around his figure when you felt your body sway with his movement. You’ve never been this close to any of the residents before, and your face was definitely heating up (though you could blame that on the heat, too). You called out his name again, the fear in your voice loud and clear. 

At last, he replied confidently, “To tell you the truth, this is a first for me, but—”

“WHAT?!” Both of your arms tensed from the grip of your hands around his neck.

He steadied himself before he turned his head to shoot you his best relaxed smile.

Except you were anything but relaxed! This is insane and dangerous! What would le Comte or Sebastian say if they saw the two of you like this?! You were certain at least one of them would faint from the sight.

(The latter would be busy excitedly writing down the events in his notebook.)

You thought back to how you ended up here: Clutching Dazai’s body for dear life while he climbed the side of the mansion to “get you to your room faster”.

It all started in the garden.

You were watering the plants beneath the hot summer sun. On your way back inside, you happened to spot Dazai and waved at him.

The next step you took didn’t land on the cool grass, however, but rather fell right down a hole disguised by the grass. After overcoming the initial shock, you looked up to see Dazai in front of you in a flash with concern laced in his eyes. Fresh tears gathered in the corner of your eyes when you tried to pull yourself up. He crouched down to help get your foot out and let you hold onto him while you hopped on one foot to regain your balance.

One could say Dazai felt guilty for distracting you or not warning you ahead of time, and maybe that was why he insisted on helping you out. But…

“—don’t worry, Yoshie-san! I won’t let you down,” he grunted with effort when he reached upward for the next block, “literally and figuratively.”

“A-a-huh…” your response came out much shakier than you intended, the fear of falling rising the higher you reached.

“We’re almost there, just don’t look down,” he sang.  

Normally, Dazai would climb much faster than he was now. Not only would he be lighter, but he was always down to experiment with different routes. With you, however, he made sure not to make any sudden moves, and he would warn you before he makes his next move. He kept conversing with you as well while you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breathing. How he could sound so calm and composed while pulling the two of you up the windowsill left you baffled, to say the least.  

“Remind me again why you couldn’t just walk me through the front door?”

“What kind of man would I be to let you hop your way up that enormous staircase. Of course, I would offer to carry you.”

“Yes, I understand that, but why wouldn’t you carry me up the stairs, instead?”

“A sprained ankle is a serious injury that needs immediate care. Carrying you up the staircase at the main entrance would take far too long.”

“At least we’d be on solid ground!”

“Hmm? Do you like the idea of the other residents seeing you being carried like a princess to your room by me? Oh, the things they would imagine,” he mused. “Take this as our own secret adventure~”

Your eyes remained closed when you said, “I don’t know how climbing the side of the mansion in broad daylight counts as any form of secrecy, but…”

You paused when you felt yourself being turned around.

“And here we are.”

“Eh?”

True to his word, when you peeked one eye open, you were met with the pink shades of your room’s décor. Dazai sat comfortably on the windowsill with his legs dangling from the edge. All you had to do to get down was unhook your legs around his waist to meet the solid floor. Your legs wobbled as you gingerly shifted your weight off of him and into the room. Next, you unclasped your arms around his neck—which you realized were maybe a bit too tight.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“A little dizzy, not gunna lie,” you reached for the stool by the foot of your bed and clutched your head, “I’m so sorry if I was hanging onto you too tight, did it hurt in any way?”

“Not at all, I quite liked the feeling of your arms around me,” he admitted over his shoulder with a carefree smile.

“Oh…” You had to look away when you felt your face heat up.

You dragged yourself with the stool towards the window to sit in front of him while your eyes remained on the ground. Dazai stared at you expectantly while you searched for words to respond with.

“Well…” You started.  

You wrapped your arms tightly around him again, but this time it wasn’t out of fear.

“Thank you for everything, Dazai.”

His eyebrows raised in shock, and after a long moment he twisted in your embrace to return the hug. He rested his head on your shoulder casually. You leaned against him to avoid applying pressure on your injured foot, and he could feel your heartbeat calm down from the adrenaline. Subconsciously, he’d tightened his grip as he remembered the panic and distress he’d seen when the pain of your fall had set in.

“Dazai…?” You tapped his back.

“Ah, my apologies,” he pulled away, flashing you his usual calm smile.

He swung his legs back out the window, looking ready to depart.

“I’ll call a doctor for you, so make sure to keep your foot elevated until he arrives, okay?”

And out he went. A light breeze flew through his bangs as he waved goodbye.

[Bonus Scene]

As soon as Dazai left, you heard knocking at your door though the guest didn’t wait for you before he hurried in.

“MC!” It was Arthur. “What’s this about you and a sprained ankle? A clumsy bird today, are we?”

Arthur grinned, as he set his doctor’s bag on the table beside you.

“When’d you hear about that?”

“Dazai told me.”

“Wh—? How—?” He had just left out the window! Did he speak telepathically with Arthur on his way down? 

“Well, not directly, but I definitely heard him talking about your ankle from my open window. It’s a shame I wasn’t fast enough to catch a glance of your—”

You slapped his arm before he could finish his sentence. Doctor or not, he’s still an incorrigible flirt.

“Ow! Now, is that any way to treat the doctor who rushed all this way to treat you?” He bent down to grab your ankle with utmost care.

“We live in the same mansion, doc,” you huff, but you don’t pull away when he wrapped it up for you.

Your thoughts drifted back to Dazai.

“…I quite liked the feeling of your arms around me.”

He and Arthur seem to share that trait: Getting a reaction out of you through words alone. One thing’s for sure, your mind was going to keep replaying today’s events for the rest of the day until your heart decides to stop racing from the thrill of it.

#ikevamp writing #ikevamp dazai #dazai x reader #ikemen vampire #dazai x mc #dazai x you #alby one-shots #dazai going full spiderman #to admire such back muscles up close... sighhhh

[mansions-maiden]

MC’s birthday in comte’s mansion

The mansion surprises you with a birthday party though you didn’t tell them it was your birthday. 

the day before your birthday

you had your dinner and went to sleep that night before everyone else. After that,  comte called for everyone’s attention  seated in the dining hall. 

comte: “Everyone listen ! tomorrow is our cherie’s birthday. but alas! it seems that she didn’t want to tell us. I want your help tomorrow so that we can throw the grandest  party she had ever witnessed. “ 

comte said as he trained his golden eyes onto every resident . Everyone was bit shocked at the revelation but soon a smile appeared on each one’s face as they nodded in agreement. 

Theo: “ of course, we gotta make hondje happy for wagging her tail to everyone in the mansion and helping us. “  theodorus smiled a little as he told. 

They talked about the details a bit and retired to their own rooms that night

The day of your birthday

You woke up with a content sigh as the golden rays of the morning sun peeked through your room curtains and touched you with it’s warmth.

You got ready for the day and were about to go  help Sebastian when someone from behind caught hold of your arm.   

“ aah! comte!? what’s the matter? “  you said as you found the pureblood staring back at you with a smile playing on his lips. 

“ I’m sorry for startling you ma cherié. I need your company into the town  now. Will you come with me? “   he asked as he smiled brightly. 

“ of course comte. I’ll  be ready in a moment. “ you said and went back to your room to  get your bag . 

Comte heaved a sigh of relief and looked into the kitchen, where Sebastian and Napoleon were found. He smiled at them a little and went into the foyer . 

You went to a boutique along with comte.  He selected a blue colour gown that was as shiny as the seas, and embedded with the finest of the pearls that shone like twinkling stars.

"Comte! Why are buying these all for me?!" You squealed with a voice of surprise and Comte ruffled your hair with his big warm hands.

" Ma cherié, I always want to spoil you with all the riches and the dresses that make you look ravishing. " He replied as he laughed seeing your delicate cheeks turn the color of cherry blossoms.

meanwhile in the mansion: 

Napoleon and Sebastian were in the kitchen , preparing a cake of your favorite flavor. Though it was new to Napoleon, with Sebastian, he was able to help prepare the cake . 

Napoleon: “ Now all we need to do is apply this ‘ icing ‘ thing right? 

Sebastian: “ yes monsieur napoleon. But are you sure you are able to follow the steps? it’s very new to you.. “ 

Napoleon: “ Oh Sebastian, of  course it is new to me. But I will make it at any cost . It’s for nunuche after all. “ 

Arthur and Mozart were in Mozart’s room, trying to compose a song that fits the birthday theme .

Mozart’s Violet eyes  were running over the poem written by the mystery writer and forced a disappointed sigh out of his lips.

Mozart: "this poem is nowhere near composable. Maybe we should take the help of Shakespeare in this task".

Arthur sighed and went to Shakespeare's villa to ask him for help. He explained the situation to Shakespeare .

Shakespeare: "oh , T'is the day when lady was born. Come Arthur, we shall go to mansion ere the party starts."

And so, the writers and  the musician were busy in preparing the poem and it's composition.

In other room, arranged for the party, Leo and Isaac were there decorating it Though Leo ended up sleeping sometimes, both of them somehow managed to decorate the mansion 

Outside the mansion, in the gardens

The red roses were all blooming in the garden . Theo and Vincent were in there, preparing a gift for you.

Vincent was drawing a portrait of you surrounded in the rose garden. The sky blue eyes softened as he gave a few strokes with his paint brush that had painted many things before.

Theo : " Broer, don't you think something is missing in the painting? " He said, training his ocean blue eyes over the painting.

Vincent: "what is missing Theo?"

Theo: " oh Broer, how can you miss the wagging tail of hers ? It would make this an epitome of paintings."

Vincent: " Theo, if I find you teasing MC today, I will hunt you down. "

Theo sulked a little and cursed under his breath but helped his brother with the painting anyway.

On the other side of market

Jean and Dazai were in the market, buying some drinks, champagne and other food items for the party.On their way home, Jean found a thing that immediately reminded him of you. Both of them bought it for you as a gift. (Imagine it as your favorite thing)

After you returned to mansion

As soon as you entered the mansion, Comte asked you to wear the dress and come to foyer. You wore the dress and was about to enter the hallways when you suddenly found that everything around you was dark. Then you realized that a person had covered your eyes.

"Don't panic luv. It's me" you were visibly relieved as you heard Arthur's voice. " Don't panic okay? We will lead the way" . You heard Napoleon's voice as Arthur blindfolded you.

"What's happening?! " You were very surprised by the sudden turn of events but both began walking by  grabbing your hands. You had no choice but to let them lead the way. 

When you entered the room and your blindfold was removed, a surprised gasp escaped your  mouth as you saw the arrangements. 

“ happy birthday to you.. happy birthday to you “ The song echoed in your ears in unison and tears oh happiness bubbled in your eyes as your heart constricted with gratefulness and affection towards the residents at once. 

“ wh- who knew about this? who arranged all of these? “ you asked overwhelmed with happiness. 

“ It was comte MC . And we helped him in arranging this “ Sebastian replied with a small smile on his face. 

Comte suddenly felt small hands wrapped around his waist and he looked down  with wide eyes to find you hugging him. He began patting your head and smoothing your hairs back, wishing you once again. 

After you had cut the cake, Mozart began playing piano music. Comte, Shakespeare , Arthur and others stretched out their hands towards you for a dance. You waltzed with the residents who were interested. You were treated like a princess.

“this is the best birthday of my life! thank you everyone! “ you exclaimed. They all smiled at you wished you once again. 

The night was young then. And yet, you fell asleep on the couch, sighs of contentment escaping your lips every now and then. Comte found you asleep and sighed contently to himself, his eyes and heart burning with affection towards you. 

He picked you up in his arms gently and carried you to your room. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing your forehead multiple times  on his way to your room. After he tucked you into your bed , he sat beside your bed as he gazed at your angelic sleeping face. 

“Happy birthday Cherie! I hope you live here with us even in the coming years.” he gave one last forehead kiss and smiled affectionately  before closing the door and leaving you in your dreams world.

My heart was so content and soft while writing this. Who wouldn't want this kind of surprise? ❤️💖

#ikevamp hcs #ikevamp fluff #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp comte #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp theo #birthday #pure fluff #ikevamp hc #iwanttohave a party like that #but alas its not possible

[saphyhowl]

I have an RQ, write about Le comte having a day off

Comte had attempted to elaborate a list of all the activities he desired to do on his day off for the fourth time. He glanced at the clock. Two hours left before dinner. Then, he would be free of all his obligations and his day off would start even earlier than he had anticipated. No more checking if everyone had drunk their rouge or blanc. No fearing for an unexpected guest waltzing through his door. A whole day without worries was a rare occasion for Comte. However, he had yet to find a complete list of activities to do on his day off. You would think that as a man gifted with immortality, Comte would have all the time to fulfill all his lifelong wishes. That had been the case before he had offered the residents of this mansion, the gift of life.

An idea popped in his head and he eagerly wrote it down before it would fade away from his mind.

“A bath!” he exclaimed out loud.

He then scribbled something again as he hungrily whispered the word “chocolate”. The ideas finally flowed out of his mind and after some time Comte was satisfied with the list of activities for his day off. He stood up and went straight towards his wardrobe.

“Spending the day in pajamas?” he thought out loud.

Comte pondered whether a dignified noble like him should follow MC’s advice and give in to the temptation of being lazy for a day.

The next day, Comte was soaking in his bath, a book in his hand and a cup of coffee in the other. This was pure bliss, all the stress washed away. How calm it was today. Comte sipped his coffee. At this hour, everyone would be awake and would be enjoying their breakfast. Why were they so calm? Comte shook his head and tried to immerse himself back into the book.

A faint thud coming from the lower floor almost stirred him out of his reading, but he pushed the urge to check on the strange noise aside.

As he soaked in the bubbles surrounding him, Comte heard another thud followed by a voice proffering an insult. Comte almost thought he heard the name “Dazai” as well.

“That’s it!” Comte sighed.

He stepped out of the tub and put on his bathrobe. He carefully dried his feet before sliding them in his slippers and made his way towards where all the muffled noises occurred.

The dining room. A place that had witnessed several fights and arguments. Logically, the noises had to come from this room. Comte violently opened the door to catch the troublemakers in the act.

Comte froze. All the residents were sitting together at the table, visibly in the midst of their breakfast. They turned their heads to see a half-drenched Comte in a bathrobe anxiously looking around the room.

“You might want to close that bathrobe a tad more, Comte,” Arthur suggested.

Theo choked on his pancakes.

“You were not fighting?” Comte asked.

They all shook their heads.

“Do you want us to?” Theo asked confused.

Comte did not answer and left the room grumbling to himself that he had imagined things.

Back to the bath in which the water had turned lukewarm. Comte snatched his book and decided to sit in his armchair instead. As he read on, he eventually grabbed some chocolates from the box on the table next to him. In the background, he could still hear voices coming now from the garden. He managed to remain focused on his book until a discussion tore him away from his reading for good.

“Oh hello, little bees! Theo, look at the bees. How wonderful nature can be- Ah!” said Vincent in his usual cheerful voice.

“Sebastian! Vincent got stung by a bee. Damn those bees! ”Theo shouted.

“Did you know bees die after they sting you?” Arthur explained.

An ominous silence and then the clear sound of someone punching a person.

“What was that for?” Arthur complained.

“Sebastian! They are fighting again,” Isaac warned.

There was a sound of hastened steps crunching the gravel.

Meanwhile in Comte’s room, Comte was now finishing his third box of chocolate. The book had been long tossed on the floor. His knees were jumping up and down nervously. He was waiting for the right time to intervene. No, Sebastian had it under control. Comte munched on another chocolate piece..

A shadow passed his window.

“I am coming to your rescue Arthur,” Dazai said.

“Dazai! No jumping from the windows, especially the third floor,” MC scolded Dazai.

 A window opened on the right side of Comte’s chambers.

“Will you all just shut up! I cannot concentrate.” Mozart complained from his window.

“Arthur, we do not give the finger in this house.” Sebastian scolded.

The scolding continued in the garden while Comte was opening every drawer in his room to find the earplugs he had once found in the modern age during his numerous trips. As soon as he found them and put them on, the voices from outside became muffled. With a sigh of relief, he lied down on his bed to enjoy a nerve-calming nap. He concentrated his thoughts on relaxing his mind and preventing it to spiral around the wellbeing of the other residents.

Something tugged on his sleeve, but he ignored it. His body was gently being shaken, but he found refuge under the covers. Something tickled his feet and he jumped upright, clearly awake. He took his earplugs out and glared at the intruder…Intruders. The whole household was solemnly standing around his bed.

“How? Wh-What are you all doing in my room?” Comte asked.

“You slept until dinner time. We thought you were dead.” Arthur said and got a flick on the forehead from Napoleon.

“It is time for dinner and as we all know some of us caused a lot of trouble today. To apologize for disturbing the much-deserved rest you needed on your day off, we decided to have a special dinner outside in your name Comte,” MC explained as she glared at the culprits, namely Dazai and Arthur.

Comte blinked several times as he fully grasped what was occurring. How foolish he was to desire a day off on his own! He was bound to them all, having a day off meant isolating himself from them. While they annoyed him, made him worry countlessly, he did enjoy their company greatly and truth be told he had found it hard to ignore them.

They waited outside of his room to let him change accordingly. Comte was back to his impeccable self.

“Now Comte, please just focus on the path ahead and think about all the nice food Sebastian prepared for us.” Vincent beamed at Comte.

“Is that a hole in the wall?” Comte blinked in astonishment as he passed by a gaping hole on the wall where there used to be paintings.

“Now, it may smell like something burned, but rest assured we managed to put out the fire,” Leonardo added.

Comte blinked again in shock and only managed to whisper how one day Leo would all kill them by accident because of his smoking habit.

The crowd ushered Comte outside and into the garden before he could see the rest of their mess.

Each of them took up the task they had been entrusted to make this barbecue evening a success. Comte was given the hardest task, which was to stop worrying. There he was, enjoying the mild evening as he sipped a glass of wine. Only then, surrounded by his rather weird friends, whom he even considered family, was Comte able to fully enjoy his day off.

Then, Arthur decided to pour beer over the meat to “give it a nice taste” only to cause a large amount of smoke to spread through the garden and making everyone cough. Jean, who had been calm and peaceful until now, panicked. His warrior instinct kicked back in as he tried to protect MC, carrying her around the garden, and shouting at the top of his lungs: “Take cover!”.

Comte held onto his wine amidst the chaotic crowd trying to calm Jean down. “A peaceful day off indeed,” he sighed.

*******************************************************************************************

I believe the people in this mansion have no day off  or privacy whatsoever lol. I hope you enjoyed it @crystallikelaw. 

#Ikemen Vampire #IkeVamp #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp theo #ikevamp le comte #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp jean #ikevamp isaac #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire le comte #ikemen vampire jean #ikemen vampire isaac #ikemen vampire sebastian #ikevamp fanfic

[ikeromantic]

A Very Strange New Year’s Eve

An Ikemen Vampire fanfic. Approx 6K words. This was supposed to go up for Jan 1, but I didn’t finish in time. I considered just not posting, but went ahead and finished it. So . . . 3 months past the holiday, but hey! 

The mansion was bustling with activity on New Year’s Eve. It was tradition in this time for men to go from estate to estate, drinking and dancing, singing and carousing. Few ever made it out as far as le Comte’s country home, but Sebastian wasn’t about to let that excuse him from preparations. And you got recruited to help.

First there was the front courtyard, now a wonderland of ice sculptures and colored lanterns. Red ribbons graced the bare branches of trees, and winter flowering plants dotted the path to the door. The entry way was a ballroom, cleared of furniture and hung with garlands of ivy and mistletoe. Then there were the refreshment tables with carefully crafted centerpieces . . .

“Sebas. Comte says no one comes out this far. Can’t we just call this good enough,” you whine. “I’d really like to just enjoy the rest of the holiday.”

Sebastian moves faster than you’d expect, given he’s like you - just human. But there’s no way you could dodge the thump he lands in the center of your forehead. 

“Ouch! Wh-what was that for?”

“You should start the new year as you plan to continue. Do you really want to spend it lazing around instead of getting things done?” Sebastian’s mild frown is almost worse than the sting on your forehead.

You sigh. “Fine. Yes. So what else do I need to do?”

Sebastian gestures with his chin toward the stairs. “Comte needs someone to bring him the case from the study. Why don’t you do that and see what else he needs, since you’ve no head for decorating.”

“Alright.” You hurry up the stairs. 

Comte is already in the study, case in hand. He notices you come in and his lips curl up in a wistful smile. “Did Sebas chase you away from his masterpiece?”

“Yeah. I’m not . . . enthusiastic enough. Anyway, he said you needed some help up here?”

Comte nods, gesturing to some books. “You can carry those for me. Come along.”

The books are obviously old, the bindings a thick leather. Symbols are burned into them that you don’t recognize. “What are these for?”

“The turn of the new year provides a brief window for certain experiments. Those are notes and guides from other studies,” Comte explains. 

“Like magic?” You eye the books suspiciously. “Is it something like the door?”

Comte chuckles. “Yes, I suppose you could say it’s something like the door. Manipulating time is a narrowly explored side of alchemy. Science, more than magic, ma cherie.” He stops at a door you hadn’t noticed before and unlocks it. 

Inside there are a variety of strange looking devices. Twisted metal constructs, oddly shaped glass containers, shelves of bizarre looking ingredients and other things your eye can’t quite focus on. You step inside but Comte holds out a hand to stop you.

“That’s far enough. This room is not . . . safe . . . I’d appreciate it if you’d set the books down at the door.”

Your skin breaks out in little goosebumps as you step back out of the doorway. “Alright. Well, was there anything else you wanted me to do?”

Comte turns. “There is. Would you make sure everyone is out of the mansion before 9 this evening? Help them hurry along. I need peace and quiet if I’m to make progress. And I’d hate for any of you to be caught up in unexpected side effects of my experiments.”

“Side effects?” You stand a little straighter, suddenly nervous.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, but yes. Sometimes these tests produce unintended effects that spread beyond my laboratory.” He smiles as if this is unimportant. “So, can you make sure everyone is out by sunset?”

You nod. “Sure. Vincent is going out with Will to see some musical at the Moulin Rouge. Arthur, Dazai, and Theo are going to the Parade of Fools . . . I think Isaac and Napoleon are visiting an orphanage? And Jean is going to Notre Dame to pray. But I don’t think Leo or Sebas planned to go out anywhere.” And neither did I, you mentally add.

“Well, you must convince them. I am sure you’ll think of something.” He takes the books from you and closes the door. As soon as it shuts, you almost don’t notice it’s there again. Weird. But there’s no time to stand around and stare at a locked door. You’ve got a mission. 

First you stop in to check on Arthur. Dazai and Theo are in the room with him, dressed in ridiculous colors and patterns. “Looks like a little bird stopped in to see what we’re up to,” Arthur grins at you from where he sits at the edge of his bed. 

“Just making sure you’re on time. Can’t be late for the uh, the parade.” You realize you aren’t entirely sure what that is but parades usually start at a certain time so - it makes sense, right?

Dazai grabs your elbow, guiding you inside. “Yes, thank you Toshiko-san. Are you hoping to come with us?”

Theo scoffs, “No puppies allowed.” 

Arthur stands and you realize his shirt is unbuttoned. His chest is more muscled than any writer ought to be. Your eyes can’t help but run from his sternum down to the buckle of his belt. “I don’t know, Theo. Could be fun to bring our skirt along.” He runs a finger along your jaw line, earning a frown from Dazai.

Theo shakes his head. “No. Look at her. Just touching her cheek turns the girl into a tomato. Can you imagine her face at the feast of fools? No.”

Dazai nudges Arthur back with his shoulder as he turns you to face the door. “Well, that is that Toshiko-san. It seems this is a boys only trip.”

“But - but I didn’t ask to go. I just, I need to make sure you leave before it gets dark.” You protest.

“Yeah, yeah. We got it hondje.” The door closes on Theo’s dismissal. You hear Arthur’s laughter as you head down the hall. Well.You delivered your message at least. 

Next you decide to check on Vincent. He is painting with a look of intent focus. The canvas shows a field of flowers, their edges blending together in ways that make your head swim. You feel like you could drown in that picture but not tonight. Tonight, you have a job. “Vincent!”

He turns, his blue eyes wide with surprise. When he sees you, he smiles. “Oh! Did Will send you to get me? Is it already time to go?”

“No, er, yes,” you stumble over your answer. It’s hard to think straight with those big baby blues trained on you. “I mean, yes, you should get ready to go and no - I haven’t seen Will.” 

Vincent looks a little confused, but turns to put down his paint and brush. “I guess you’re right. It will take me a bit to put the paints away and clean my brushes. I should start now. Would it be ok if I asked you to help?”

You are just about to say yes. After all, spending time around Vincent is always pleasant and it’s still basically what Comte asked you to do - but before your mouth opens, a pair of cool, smooth hands come around your waist and pull you tight against a narrow, wiry chest. 

“And hast thy tongue given voice to words untrue? Or did thine eyes pass me over me as I stood on the stair awaiting your pleasant greetings?”

“Will!” You try to politely pull away from him, but he holds fast. 

“Shall I take my revenge on you for such rude welcome? Or perchance, I only need keep you close to sooth the ache your averted gaze has given my heart.” Will set his head on your shoulder so that his lips brush your cheek.

“Will! Since you’re here, you can help me with the brushes,” Vincent exclaims. He takes hold of one of Shakespear’s hands, tugging the bard away from you.

Reluctantly, Will releases you. “Ah, friend Vincent. I could not deny you this. Besides, if I refuse, we would be late!”

Vincent chuckles. “Sorry. I got carried away with this painting. I appreciate the help. I’m sure we’ll be finished in plenty of time.”

You nod, backing toward the door. “Well, you two better hurry. Comte needs the mansion to himself tonight, so you need to get going.”

This seems to get Will’s interest, but he doesn’t get a chance to pry as Vincent hauls him off to clean brushes.

You escape the room to go check on your toughest target. Leonardo. The narcoleptic genius. The tobacco scented DILF. The most infuriating member of the mansion . . . da Vinci. You knock on his door, certain he’s there thanks to the present smell of fresh tobacco smoke and the warm light coming from under the door.

No response. 

You knock again and call out. “Leo? Comte sent me!”

Nothing.

“I know you’re in there!” You try the knob and find the door unlocked. The room beyond is a disaster area. Bits of wire, gears, pretty rocks, books, and only Lumiere knows what else cover every surface except the bed. 

Leonardo is lounging against a mound of pillows, his cat perched above his head, a book open on his chest. His bare chest. His wide, muscled, gorgeous . . .

You clear your throat. 

He finally opens his eyes. “Ah, cara! Why are you in my room? Did you need something?” He doesn’t sit up or shift position. Or cover his distractingly visible self.

You clear your throat again and will the heat in your face away. “Uhm, ah, Comte wanted me to tell you - ah - he needs you to go someplace tonight.” You manage to get the message out by fixing your eyes on the mess and not the man. 

“I didn’t plan to go anywhere,” Leo shrugs. He turns the page in his book. Lumiere cracks one golden eye open to watch you.

“Yeah, well. Comte needs you to go out. He’s doing an experiment.”

At this, Leonardo sits up a bit, disturbing the cat. Lumiere hops down in a huff and begins to pick his way through the unholy pile of crap on the floor. “An experiment? Well. Then I should go along, I suppose.” He grins at you and it’s one of those dangerous smiles of his. “Could you put this book up for me while I find my shirt?”

“Sure?” You carefully walk over and around the mess, wobbling with each uneasy step. 

When you’re in arms’ reach, he grabs you by the waist and tugs you onto the bed. Onto his chest. His bare skin against the backs of your thighs. “Wh-what the hell, Leonardo?!” You sort of struggle to stand, instinct fighting pride. 

“Oh, sorry cara mia. You looked like you might fall.” His dangerous grin was still firmly in place, his golden eyes laughing. 

“If I was going to fall, it’s your fault. You need to clean this place up!” 

“I would. I’m just so busy.” He tries to help you up, his hands touching you on your legs, your hip, your everywhere - completely unnecessarily - until you get back on your feet. “Maybe you can come help me, hm?” 

You try to frown at him but your heart is racing and your cheeks are pink. The look has no impact except to make him smile wider. “Maybe. You can ask me tomorrow, but right now, can you find someplace else to be?”

“I think I’ll go watch the fireworks,” he sighs. “It would be even more beautiful with company . . .”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone to watch it with,” you snap back. Then you hurry out before he can reply. But you’re not fast enough. You never are.

“I already found you, cara . . .” His voice, like warm honey, follows you down the hall. It takes you a moment to shake it off. This is not the time to go all doe-eyed. Not when you’ve got Jean to deal with.

He isn’t in his room. Or the library. You find him in the studio, doing, of all things, aerobics. Of course, Jean d’Arc invented aerobics for soldiers so it shouldn’t surprise you but it does. Or maybe it’s just seeing him covered in sweat, his linen undershirt stuck to his skin. Thin silk leggings clinging indecently to . . . 

“Mademoiselle?” His empty one-eyed gaze brings you back to the moment and your purpose here. 

“Sorry to interrupt Jean. I was coming to check on you because -” you pause. Jean and Comte don’t get along well. If you tell him le Comte needs him gone, it might have the opposite effect. So instead, you say, “I was thinking of visiting Notre Dame with you. I wasn’t sure when you were leaving.”

He looks disturbed. “Right now. You won’t be able to accompany me.” He moves toward the door, all leonine grace. 

“Don’t you need to clean up first?” He pauses, looks down at himself and frowns. “Yes . . .” 

“Then we have plenty of time. I’ll meet you up front.”

“Mademoiselle -”

Unlike the golden-eyed flirt upstairs, it’s easy to escape Jean before he’s had his say. You feel bad for doing it, but you haven’t been to see the cathedral yet and this is as good an excuse as any.

The hour is growing late, and you know you don’t have much time. You head to Isaac’s room where thankfully, he and Napoleon are gathering the last of their supplies for this little mission. Food and warm coats for the children, nothing fancy but special enough to give the orphans a happy new year. 

“Hello you two!” You stand in the doorway, grinning at the way Isaac hops up at your voice. And Napoleon’s warm, slow smile.

“If it isn’t my nunuche. Come to help us pack?” 

Isaac shook his head. “We’re pretty much done. No help needed. You can go.”

“Oh? Well . . . I wasn’t really here to help out anyway. Sorry ‘Leon. I just wanted to see how soon you’d be leaving.”

“Do we need to rush?” Napoleon set a hand on one of the packages as if he might pick it up and go now. 

“No, I don’t think so. But soon? Comte is doing some sort of experiment tonight. Wants the mansion to himself.”

“An experiment?” Isaac’s eyes light up with interest.

You can’t help but smile at how adorable he looks. “I don’t think it’s the kind of experiment you’d want to be involved in. Less physics, more hocus-pocus.”

“Hocus what?” Napoleon looks confused.

“Nevermind,” you shush him. “Are you about done?”

“Just a few more items to pack,” Isaac reassures you. “We’ll be out within the hour.”

“Perfect.” You smile at them. Isaac looks away, fiddling with his shirt. Napoleon grins back at you. 

That smile reminds you of all the surprise kisses you’ve got, waking him up for breakfast. Incorrigible man. You turn to go, with one last target in mind. The hardest target, in fact. 

“Oh Sebas?”

Sebastian turns from the table he’s decorating. You see a measuring tape in his hand which he quickly tucks into his pocket.

“Were you . . . checking the distance between that candle stick and the crystal dessert tray?” You can’t help the way your eyebrows go up or the rise in pitch. 

Sebas coughs. “Of course not. I was . . . merely . . .” He stops. His eyes narrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be upstairs assisting le Comte?”

“I am! I was, I mean. He sent me down to tell you we need to get out of the mansion for the evening. He’s doing an experiment.” You aren’t going to let Sebastian intimidate you with his perfect butleriness. Not tonight!

“An experiment you say? Did he mention what?” He lowers his voice as if to add just to himself, “I haven’t seen him perform an experiment first hand yet. What a fascinating entry that would be . . .”

You clear your throat. “You know I can hear you, right? Besides. I don’t think le Comte wants any observers.”

Sebastian turns to look at the beautifully decorated parlor and entryway. It is breathtaking. The colors, the placement, the food . . . it’s a shame to waste it. “Surely we can stay long enough to see if some guests arrive,” he ventures.

“You could ask.” 

“Or you could run along and ask for me. I have a few more things to finish here.” Sebas gestures to the absolutely perfect decor.

You frown. “It looks done to me. And it doesn’t matter anyway.” 

The two of you argue good-naturedly back and forth until Arthur, Dazai, and Theo come traipsing down the stairs. 

“Would you quit yapping, hondje? I can hear you all the way in my room. With the door shut!”

Arthur elbows him. “Come on chap, that’s an exaggeration. It was only with the door open.”

Dazai gives you a wink. “I think you are both teasing Toshiko-san. Her voice is too beautiful to complain of hearing. Like birdsong in the morning.”

“I’m not a fan of that myself,” Napoleon chimes in on his way down the stairs. He has a box almost as big as he is in his arms. Isaac is right behind him, carrying another man-sized container. 

You aren’t sure if you should be insulted or flattered at this point, and in the end, it doesn’t matter. Because just as you’re about to speak up, Leonardo comes up behind Isaac a little too quickly, startling the physicist. 

Isaac drops his box, which tumbles down to take out Napoleon. Napoleon’s box goes flying and in seconds, the whole entryway is covered in children’s clothes and shoes, and little baggies of candy. 

Sebastian looks as if he might cry. 

Napoleon starts to laugh, one of his hard, belly-shaking, can’t-stop fits. 

Which of course, is when Jean arrives. He looks down from the top of the stair like a visitor in a madhouse, watching the patients with a look of chagrin. 

“I suppose we need to help pick all this up before we go,” Theo grumbles. 

Arthur gives a reluctant nod as Dazai bends to lift a tiny little dress that looks as if it was made to fit a toddler. “This is almost Toshiko’s size, isn’t it?”

You punch him lightly in the arm. “It might fit my foot . . . thanks.” 

Vincent and Will are the next on scene, and while angelic Vincent immediately rushes to help, Shakespeare just looks sad that he missed the mayhem.

“Would that we were just a moment quicker. I could have caught the look of surprise on Isaac’s face and watched this riotous madness unfold.” 

“Will,” you frown. “Can you just help pick stuff up? This is taking forever and le Comte said-” 

The hall clock rings the hour. Nine. Precisely the time you were all supposed to be out of the mansion. 

Surely, you think, surely le Comte would make certain he was alone before doing anything dangerous. Right? 

A wave of heat rushes through the house as if something burst in its stone center. The air ripples and the walls bend and flex as if they were made of soft pudding. Colors flow and blend in bizarre combinations that end in black. Darkness and silence. 

You realize you’re lying on the tile floor of the entryway. Your eyelids feel heavy and your head is pounding. You open them carefully, hoping the world is ok and you are ok, and all the residents of the mansion are fine too. Above you, the ribbons and lights Sebas strung up are still hanging. You turn your head. There’s the table, and the remains of the mess. 

And sitting in the middle of a pile of clothes is a . . . a little boy. With blonde hair and big blue eyes. He looks at you and smiles like an angel.

“Umm, hi,” you say and give him a wave. 

“Hi.” He imitates your gesture. 

Where did the kid come from? And where are the vampires? You sit up and look around. And there’s another kid! This one looks a little older. Dark black hair, eyes like big round jade beads. He’s naked, sleeping with his little butt in the air, legs curled under him, head on another pile of clothes. 

You scramble to your feet, beginning to panic. There are other children in the room. A little boy with strawberry brown hair and cherry-blossom eyes is constructing a tower from silverware, assisted by another boy with dark grey hair and amber eyes. 

A little boy on the steps is trying desperately to tie Jean’s eye patch to his head and hold a bit of shirt to his chest, only he can’t because two hands isn’t enough. 

You slap yourself to wake up. 

A tiny little hand tugs at your skirt. “No. No owies.” 

You look down to see another blue-eyed tot, this one with chestnut hair. He is staring up at you in disapproval and the expression looks damn familiar. “Theo?”

He grunts, which is probably a yes. “Pancakes. Want pancakes.” He tugs your skirt in the direction of the kitchen.

Definitely Theodorus. You crouch to look him in the eye. “Huh. Pancakes? Alright. If I’m stuck in a dream about kiddie vampires, I might as well make them pancakes.”

Your words draw the attention of most of the boys. They crowd around you, herding you toward the kitchen. All except Mozart who is on the table, tapping champagne glasses with a spoon. He glances at you in annoyance before resuming his table-symphony.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you tell them. “I’ll make pancakes, but first you’ve got to get dressed.” You point at the clothes on the floor. You notice one messy-haired boy picking his nose. “And wash your hands.” 

“Are they . . . are they all children,” asks a confused voice from behind you. Sebastian stands up from where he fell, his eyes as wide as saucers.

“No. I’m just having a very weird dream,” you inform him.

Sebastian pinches you. It hurts. “No. If this was a dream, that should have ended it,” he says after a moment.

“You could have pinched yourself,” you mutter.

“Not if it’s your dream.” He glances around, counting the little boys that are scrambling into their clothes. “Seems all of them are accounted for except le Comte. Have you seen him since you got up?”

“I just woke up a few minutes ago. I’ve only seen these,” you gesture to the group, then reach out to snag Dazai before he empties a pitcher of champagne over the sleeping Napoleon. 

The little dark haired trickster wriggles out of your grip and runs off laughing. You’re pretty sure you need to keep a close eye on that one. 

“Then I will go upstairs and check on him. You take this lot to the dining room. I think some food will settle them down.” He watches as Jean, dressed now in an adorable red and white frock, chases after Will with a fork. “It seems they have no memory of themselves.”

“I don’t know about that. Theo has his usual frown. And he asked for pancakes.” 

Sebastian nods. “Probably elements of his personality that existed when he was a child. Just a guess. Hopefully le Comte will know more.”

“Hopefully he can reverse this,” you reply. The idea of spending your life with immortal children is terrifying. At least, you think, they are out of diapers. 

As Sebas bounds up the stairs, you herd the (now dressed) munchkins into the dining room. They tumble forward, all little knees, elbows and fists, knocking over vases and coat hangers and a chair on the way.

Little Arthur stumbles onto the carpet and his eyes begin to tear up. Vincent kneels down beside him to check the ouchie while Theo pats him gently on the head as you would to calm a dog. 

You bend down to see if the tyke is ok. His leg is a little red where he bumped it, but probably fine. “Do you want some ice?”

Arthur shakes his head. “No. No. Pick me up. Pwease?” His eyes get big as he pleads with you. 

Unable to say no, you lift him into your arms. He’s a little heavy, but not more than a sack of flour anyway. “Is that better?”

“Mhmm.” Arthur gives you an endearing smile. He lays his head on your chest and sighs happily. 

“Ok, but I’m going to have to put you down to make pancakes. Alright?”

Arthur doesn’t respond, but he also doesn’t complain when you settle him in a chair. You realize then that this is not going to work. These seats are for grown adults, not little kids. 

Before you can think of how to solve it, little Leonardo does it for you. “I have a big books,” he announces. And grabs Jean and Napoleon by the hand. “Get a books.”

The three of them tromp merrily away, with you not sure if you ought to go with them or keep track of the rest of the kids. 

“Hondje,” Theo giggled from behind you. “Hooooondje! Pancakes!”

You glare down at the little tyke. “I am not a puppy!”

Your fierce tone puts tears in his eyes and in a heartbeat, Vincent is there, hugging his brother. They are so adorable that you forget to be annoyed. “Alright, sorry for yelling at you, cutie,” you tell Theo. You ruffle his hair. “Let’s go make some pancakes.”

You snag Dazai off the windowsill before he can pull it open. “You too, you little prankster.” He giggles adorably and seems perfectly happy to watch the world from your hip.

Mozart follows along behind you, still looking annoyed that he had to leave his ‘instrument’ behind.

Isaac and Arthur stay at the table, where you can just see the tops of their little heads. You’d worry about leaving normal kids alone, even for the time it takes to cook some pancakes, but these are vampires-turned-kids. They’ll probably be fine. The dining room might not be, but that’s le Comte’s problem.

But . . . where was Will? You realize you haven’t seen him since you picked Arthur up. And if any one of these little devils is a danger on his own . . .

You carefully set Dazai down and pull the pancake batter ingredients out. You put them in one big bowl and hand Dazai, Mozart, Theo, and Vincent their own spoons. “Alright my big-littles, if we’re going to eat pancakes tonight, you have to stir.”

Vincent’s happy little face takes on a serious look as he plunges his spoon into the mix and begins to stir. Theo watches him for a moment before trying out his own batter-making skills. 

Mozart looks at the spoon and then at the batter. “No. Dirty.” He throws the spoon across the kitchen and crosses his arms. 

“Wolfie, come on. It’s not dirty. You don’t need to touch it with your hands.”

He turns his head and refuses to look at you. 

“Oh come on,” you sigh. “Fine. You can . . . supervise.” Which is a fantastic idea right up until Dazai tosses a handful of flour at Mozart. 

Mozart flings himself at Dazai and they begin to chase each other around the kitchen, Dazai laughing and Mozart snarling like an angry cat. 

“Good enough. You guys keep up the good work. I’ll be right back.” And off you go in search of Shakespeare. He isn’t in the dining room. Or in the entryway. But you notice a slight hazy smoke coming from the parlor. 

You poke your head into the room and damned if that’s not exactly where he is, trying to catch one of the heavy curtains on fire with a candle. “WILL!” You dash across the room and pull him, and the candle, away from the smoking curtain.

“William Shakespeare, what do you think you’re doing?!” Your tone is scarily reminiscent of your own mother and it makes you wince a little. But that doesn’t seem to have any effect on the tiny bard.

He grins up at you, his eyes sparkling. “Twagedy.” 

You can’t help but notice he’s missing both his front teeth. Kinda like a reverse bunny. “Tragedy, huh? If I catch you trying to burn down the mansion again, I’ll show you a real tragedy mister.” 

Rather than looking threatened, he seems excited by this. He nods his head. “Ok. Ok!” 

“Ah. No. I mean, I’ll show you a real tragedy only if you’re a good boy and you don’t try to burn down the mansion. Alright?”

Will scrunches his face up, as if thinking hard about this. Then he nods again. “Weal twagedy! Ok!”

You sigh and carry him to the dining room. Where Isaac is pulling apart a house plant and making little noises to himself. Arthur is nowhere to be seen, but judging by the sounds coming from the kitchen, you’re pretty sure where he went. 

You set Will down and throw open the door. Just in time to see Dazai and Arthur toss a canister of flour over Mozart. At least Theo and Vincent are being good, you think. 

Mozart, dusted white from head to toe, looks about two seconds from going full cage-fighter on the other two boys. You scoop him up and set him in the big sink. “Nope, no fighting Wolfie. We’ll just clean you up.”

You turn to look at Dazai and Arthur. “That was really mean, you two. Now he’s got to change clothes. You go get him something to wear. Now. Something clean!” You aren’t completely sure they understand, but they both walk in the direction you point. Hopefully they grab Mozart some clean clothes from the pile. Or at least, don’t find more trouble while you give him a mini-bath.

Just as you turn on the water, you hear Theo behind you. “Pancakes.” You turn and he’s staring at you, arms crossed. 

Vincent looks at you with huge, blue eyes. You swear they get bigger as they fix on you. “Pancakes?” He looks like he might cry.

“Yes, yes. I know. Pancakes.” You sigh. Mozart has stripped off his clothes and is trying to wash himself under the faucet. You put the plug in and add some soap for bubbles. Then step over to the stove to heat a griddle. Talk about multitasking! 

Will is watching all of this with keen interest. Hopefully it’s enough ‘twagedy’ to keep him occupied. 

Mozart manages not to drown himself in the sink while you cook, and wonder of wonders, Arthur and Dazai bring back clean clothes. The bright, chaotic colors and the tulle tutu are nothing Wolfie would normally wear, but hell, at least it’s clothing. 

You set a dripping Mozart on the floor with a towel and finish cooking. With the last pancake on the griddle, you decide to check the dining room - there’s a lot of noise coming from in there. When you poke your head out, you see Leonardo directing Jean and Napoleon in book placement. 

“A books!” He tells you proudly. 

Mozart in his plaid yellow jacket and pink tutu comes toddling out to see what’s going on. 

Leonardo covers his mouth at the sight and Jean just stares blankly. But Napoleon collapses in a fit of giggles. 

Mozart huffs and crosses his arms. 

You pat his fluffy white hair. You mean to comfort him, but it’s so soft you can’t help petting him more. Wolfie glares up at you but he doesn’t try to get away, so you figure he probably doesn’t hate it. 

“Thank you Leo. And ‘Leon. You too Jean. You are very good boys.” 

Leonardo gives you a wide, lazy smile that you swear is just like the one he wears when you catch him napping in weird places. 

Napoleon gets ahold of himself enough to give you a little bow. On his pudgy toddler self, it looks ridiculous but also endearing. 

You get the boys into their chairs, where thanks to the books, they can reach the table. Then you serve up the pancakes. This is about the point Sebas comes back, carrying a little blonde kid. One with astoundingly perceptive golden eyes.

“I see you found le Comte,” you sigh. If he’s a child too, what are the odds he can reverse this side effect of his little experiment?

Sebastian looks over the table of seated munching munchkins. “Good work with the boys. And yes, he was wandering the hall outside his laboratory.”

Le Comte turns to look up at him. “I was not wandering. I was walking to my study to fetch another set of research notes.” His voice is high and sweet, even though the words are quite adult.

“Does he remember everything then? He doesn’t sound like the others,” you ask Sebas.

“He seems to,” Sebastian confirms.

“He is right here,” le Comte interrupts. “And perfectly capable of answering questions himself. Myself. So yes - I remember everything. I know who and where I am, and what happened.”

It is so weird to hear those words from that cherubic little face. You reach over to pinch his little cheek. 

“Ma cherie . . . please . . .”

“Sorry. You’re just so cute like this.” You grin at him. How often do you get to see le Comte out of sorts after all? 

Sebastian clears his throat to get your attention. “He says there isn’t a way to reverse this, but that it should wear off.”

“When?”

“Based on my calculations, the effect is bound within the rule of threes. So if I extrapolate from the formula what the far edge of the continuum disturbance might be, I’m left with three options. It could evaporate within 9 hours, 9 days, or 9 months.”

While you aren’t sure what most of that means, you get the time frames. “So, wait. This could be over by morning or I could be stuck babysitting for NINE MONTHS?”

Sebastian grins at you and you swear he is enjoying this. But then, he’s not the one that spent the last two hours wrangling the little monsters. He looks over the table where the tiny-tot-vamps are fist to facing pancakes, well except for Mozart who is using his fork. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. You seem to have a talent for this.”

“Fine,” you grin. “I fed ‘em dinner, you get them ready for bed.” See how he likes chasing down the terror-tots for bath time, teeth-brushing, and pajamas!

Sebastian nods. You can tell by the glint in his eyes that he knows exactly what you’re trying to do. But he’s the world’s best butler and if he can handle this herd as adults, he’s sure he can handle them as children.

He claps his hands together to get their attention. Eleven little faces turn to look at him in unison. “It’s time to get ready for bed.” A chorus of whining little voices insist that in fact, they don’t need to sleep anytime soon, but Sebas is having none of it.

With another clap, he rounds the little vamps up and herds them out of the dining room, trailed by le Comte who looks like he wouldn’t mind going to bed right now at all.

You spend the next hour cleaning the kitchen and dining area. How such little people can make such big messes is beyond you, but this job is still easier than rounding them up for bathtime. You tiredly make your way out into the hall, only to see Sebas dragging himself out of the baths. 

His hair is mussed. His clothes are soaked. He has bubbles coming out of his ears. 

You try to hide a grin but can’t. 

“Help me,” he mouths silently as a mob of partially dressed boys appears behind him. 

Though it’s tempting to just walk on up to your room, you can’t leave a soul in need like that. Besides, Sebastian would definitely get revenge later. So you stop and smile at him sweetly, reaching out to snag Will as he tries to dart past you. 

“If you boys will put on your pajamas properly, I’ll read you a bedtime story,” you offer. 

“Twagedy?” Asks Will, tugging his arm out of your grip.

“Sure, hon. I’ll make it the saddest story ever read for toddlers.” 

He beams up at you with genuine pleasure in his mismatched eyes. 

Sebastian nearly cries with relief. He helps the boys finish tugging on their nightshirts and helps you gather them in the study. 

The little vampires pile onto the couch like puppies, except for Leonardo. He slumps onto the floor and begins to nod off while the others are still getting comfy. 

You look over the book selection. There’s not much here for kids. Sure, a treatise on combustion engines would probably put them to sleep - well, maybe not Isaac - but everyone else, yes. But it’s not very . . . kid friendly. Or, uh, tragic. Then your eyes light on an illustrated copy of The Ugly Duckling. Perfect.

You sit down on the couch in the midst of the boys. Theo snuggles to your left, and Arthur snuggles to your right. Dazai and Vincent sit on your lap, and you’ve got Mozart lounging on the back of the couch, peering over one shoulder, while Will does the same on your other side. Le Comte curls up on a pillow at the far end, next to Jean. Isaac claims his own spot on the opposite end. Napoleon sits across from you on Sebastian’s lap.

With all the boys accounted for, you begin to read them the tale of the ugly duckling. It doesn’t seem like the kind of story to put a crowd of little boys to sleep, but before you reach the last page, every single one of them is out like a light. Soft, even breathing and little snores fill the room. 

You look across to see if you can get Sebastian to help you carry the tykes to their room, but he’s fallen asleep too. As you look down at their sweet, sleeping faces, you think, it’d be a shame to wake them. So you get as comfortable as you can on the couch and in no time, you’re dozing off.

Dreams of baby vampires run through your mind. In one, you try to explain to your mother that none of these babies are actually yours, but she won’t believe you. In another, you push a giant stroller through Paris and lecture the tots on the architecture. It’s almost a relief when a surprised shout stirs you awake.

An adult Napoleon is mid-kiss with poor Sebas, who certainly didn’t mean to wake him. Leonardo laughs from his spot on the floor. A grown up, full bellied laugh. That’s about the point you realize Arthur and Theo are also back to their adult selves, their heads still pillowed on your lap. Dazai and Vincent are snuggled to your chest, looking quite pleased. You jump to your feet, nearly knocking them to the floor. 

Mozart loses his balance and falls off the back of the couch, and Jean leaps away from le Comte as if burned. Dazai is chuckling and muttering something about one hell of a good joke, while Isaac looks deeply disturbed. 

“What happened,” Will asks, sounding dazed. 

“It’s better not to ask,” you reply and head to your room to sleep off this weirdest of new year’s eves.

#Ikemen Vampire #IkeVamp #new years 2021 #better late than never #fanfic #fanfiction #otome #otome boys #fluff #silliness

[jer-ich0]

Ikevamp Gang playing Wii Party

Look I miss this game, alright?

Napoleon

His favourite game is that spin off one where you get all the money and stuff

He really likes the minigames that involve horses

The first time he played it he insisted he didn’t need to use the wii remote strap but Comte made him use it afterwards because he flung the remote too hard and it hit Jean in the face

Mozart

Man DESPISES playing this game

Has no idea how to use the wii remote

Is last every time and then insists that his remote is broken

Him and Jean have the best score on friend connection

Leonardo

Absolutely LOVES globe trot and gets all the photo ops on it

Is always really gentle with the remote meaning he loses all the games that involve shaking it really fast

Usually sits back and just watches the others play with Comte

Arthur

Everyone hates him because he always wins

Him and theo have the WORST score on friend connection

Surprisingly good at that one minigame where you have to stop walking at the right distance but you just gotta guess where it is

Vincent

He usually ends up around 3rd place, 2nd if he’s lucky

Not really very good at the game but better than Mozart because at least he acknowledges how bad he is

Always gets the helping hand thingies on board game island that throw you further forward

Theo

Sore loser

Insists that Arthur is cheating

Likes globe trot the best as well as Leo (but unlike Leo, he’s not good at it)

Favourite minigame is the one where you have to count how many people are on the bus simply because he doesn’t have to swing the remote on that one (one time he crushed it because he was raging too hard)

Dazai

Wheezes at Isaac the entire game

Likes the game where you have to find out who the cheater is (and is extremely good at cheating)

Can get out of the volcano on board game island the fastest

Isaac

He’s stuck in the volcano the whole time. He’ll get out, celebrate, get thrown back into it immediately and then yell at Dazai for laughing.

“Wh- Dazai- what in god’s name- how did you get out so fast? I’ve been stuck here for five turns!”

VERY good at balance boat and the zombie minigame

Jean

Someone help this poor bb he’s so scared of this game bc Napoleon gave him nightmares

He’s actually amazing at it when he’s convinced to play though, he knows exactly how much weight he has to put into shaking the remote and wins every time

Does play with Mozart on his own a lot, hence why they have the best friend connection score and not Vincent and Theo

Shakespeare

Has never played this game and never will (pun not intended)

The wii’s at Comte’s house and every time he tries to play it with Vincent he’s stopped by Theo :(

One time Vincent did manage to smuggle the wii to Will’s house but he was more interested in playing Mariokart

Comte

Doesn’t like to actually play, just sits on the nearest couch and monitors his kid’s behaviour

Will force Arthur to stop playing so everyone else can have a chancet at winning

Every time someone hits a country he’s been to on Globe Trot he starts remeniscing and rambling about what he did while he was there

Sebastian

It’s his wii, and he got it for observational purposes

Had to get a special diary for when the residents play because his other one was filling up too fast

The only one that didn’t laugh when Jean got hit in the face

He watches Napoleon play a little too closely

#ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire headcanons #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen vampire mozart #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire dazai #ikemen vampire isaac #ikemen vampire jean #ikemen vampire shakespeare #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire sebastian

[straycat-writes]

i saw that you write for ikemen vampire as well, so if it's alright with you i was wondering if you could write headcanons for mozart, vincent, comte, and arthur with a depressed/suicidal s/o who's main coping mechanism is humor? like they joke abt suicide a lot + make jokes abt feeling shitty when asked since they dont wanna worry anyone much but their jokes start getting increasingly concerning bc its smth i do a lot lol,, u dont need to do this if ur not comfortable.. thx and love your work!!

anon added: wait fuck i just remembered only three characters for headcanons so just do it for mozart, vincent, and arthur. thank u!

notes: Whaaat, come on, you cannot just do my husband dirty like that, of course I’ll do all four 😆 Before we begin, since everyone experiences stuff like this differently, our experiences might not be exactly the same, so these might not be universal. In any case, I hope you feel better 🥺💕

trigger warning(s): depression, mentions of suicide, and suicidal ideation.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

He did notice the jokes each time, but at first, he didn’t necessarily feel the need to intervene.

Once was alright, he thought you might just have a different sense of humor. Twice was morbid, but he brushed it off. But thrice was downright worrying, and he was starting to suspect something might be wrong.

He observed you make increasingly dark jokes for weeks on end, and brush off anyone who tried to ask you about them, before he decided that enough was enough.

“What is wrong with you?”

It’s a blunt question, completely tactless, but only because he’s actually quite concerned and doesn’t how else to put it. Nonetheless, it catches you off-guard.

“What do you mean?”

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t play dumb with me, (y/n). Have you been spending too much time with shitty Dazai again?”

When you don’t say anything, the scowl on his face melts into a concerned frown. He wants to help, he really does, but it’s hard for someone like him to deal with such heavy feelings, whether his own or someone else’s. After all, words have never been his preferred medium of expression.

So, he decides not to use them. Instead, he envelopes you in a long, silent hug. It’s a little stiff, but when you start crying softy on his shoulder, he gives in and pulls you even closer, gently stroking your hair.

Up until then, you had no idea that the stern, ice-cold Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart could ever feel so…familiarly warm and soft, with his arms around you.

“I’m not asking you to confess anything, (y/n). I’m not even asking you to tell me anything. I…actually have no idea how to fix any of this, but…Just…know that you don’t have to deal with this on your own.”

Vincent van Gogh

Out of everyone, it would probably take Vincent the least time to notice when something is wrong with you.

The morbid humor is one thing, but what really concerns him is how hollow your laugh has started to sound, and the glazed…empty look you get in your eyes when you think no one is looking.

He notices because he knows what to look for, because he has already seen too much of it, in himself.

“(Y/n), sweetheart, are you okay?”

“Hm? Yes, of course, Vincent. Why do you ask?”

“…Why do you think?”

There is a certain look in his eyes, so wistfully sad, as if mourning something he hasn’t even lost yet, and you just know that he knows. There is no use lying to him. In hindsight, you think, you should have known you could hide it from anyone except him.

When a lone tear slips down your cheek, he gently wipes it away and holds your face with both hands, looking into your eyes. To your surprise, and immense pain, his own are glistening with tears too.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“…Because it’s my problem and I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

You realize it doesn’t make much sense now when you say it out loud, but you knew he was all too familiar with this complete and utter despair, this emptiness you felt inside of yourself, and you never wanted him to feel it again, even if it was by proxy.

But now, he stands in front of you, hands on either side of your face, and he places a chaste, gentle kiss on your forehead. He doesn’t say anything, but you realize what he means. I’m here. I understand. You’re not alone.

(note: for those who don’t know, Vincent van Gogh committed suicide at the age of thirty-seven.)

Le Comte de Saint-Germain

He is used to the residents of his mansion having…strange sense of humor and habits, honestly.

Even so, when you make a jest about killing yourself for the fifth time in a row, he can’t help but be worried. There are only two explanations, you either just have a very, very dark idea of humor, in which case there was nothing much he could do except gentle advisory, or there was indeed something very wrong.

He keeps hoping it’s not the latter, but days pass and your jokes keep getting more and more morbid, and any attempts to talk to you about the issue are only met with smooth elusiveness.

“I’m only kidding, Comte. Of course, I’m not going to throw myself off the roof. Probably.”

“…I think we need to talk, ma cherie.”

That sentence in itself is enough to scare anyone half to death, and when you have so much to hide, even more so.

The talk is long and tedious, with quite a lot of repressed emotions involved. On your part, first there is the defensive anger. Of course, there isn’t anything wrong, how dare he imply otherwise? Then there is the desperate denial, because ‘ignore the problem until it goes away’, right? Except, this problem isn’t going away on its own, and you both know that.

Finally, there is the reluctant acceptance, and a lot of crying. Throughout this, he is as calm and collected on the outside as he always is, even when you grip the front of his coat and cry in his embrace. You’re barely holding yourself together, so he needs to be your support.

But on the inside, there is a storm raging. You were supposed to be his responsibility. He was the one who brought you here, and he was just watching you wither away like this in front of his eyes? What kind of a person did that make him? Just how much of a failure is he?

“I’m so sorry for not noticing sooner, ma cherie. I have failed you.”

“Wh-what?”

“I was supposed to protect you from everything, including yourself. Evidently, I have failed at that, and my heart aches at the thought of you suffering all on your own. But I intend to rectify my fault a thousand times over.”

You stare up at him with wide eyes, and without a warning, more tears spill.

Arthur Conan Doyle

Peculiar taste of humor is kind of Arthur’s brand. He enjoys his shamelessly perverted jokes, so he assumed you enjoy your dark ones.

Even so, he does get a little worried when he notices how your first instinct to almost anything is self-deprecation and jokes about killing yourself at the slightest provocation, and how you laugh a little too loud and too much when asked about any of it.

The more he notices, the more concerned he gets, and the more confused about just what to do about it.

At first, he tries to deflect your morbid jokes with some of his own, just to see how you would react. But the moment he talks of killing himself, you go pale, asking him to stop with such distress in your voice that he ends up feeling guilty.

But even after that, it doesn’t stop you from doing it yourself.

“Welp, guess I’ll just go drown in a river somewhere.”

“Ahahaha, but consider this, how about you…don’t?”

He’s always so playful, and even fickle that it almost slips your mind that he is a writer, after all, and a very observant one at that. He is intelligent and notices every little thing, even if he doesn’t show it. That includes the fact that your laugh has been sounding more and more empty lately, your smile seeming more and more like fake plastic.

So, when he confronts you about it, it takes you by surprise.

“Whatever do you mean, Arthur? I’m fine.”

“Right…Stop lying to me, (y/n).”

You frown. You should have known how hard it would be to hide anything from Arthur for too long. How long did you really think you could keep up this façade? The realization comes like a slap to the face, and it’s almost like your metaphorical mask drops. You start crying.

He is distressed at the sudden turn of events, but tries his best to console you. As he hugs you to his chest, gently rubbing soothing circles on your back, he wonders if he could have done something to help you sooner.

“Listen, sweetheart. I don’t claim to know what you’re going through, but I do know that you need help. I know I cannot just fix whatever…this is, but I can promise that I’m going to be here with you, through everything”

You laugh bitterly, “It gets ugly.”

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “I’m going to be here with you, whether you want me to be or not, and I promise to hold you together as you scream your throat raw trying to hold yourself together, promise to…stand by you as you save yourself. You do not have to do this alone.”

He kisses you softly, only for a moment, soft and true on the lips.

“Show me every dark and hideous, every bitter thing about your soul…and then, let me love you anyway.”

#wolfgang amadeus mozart #vincent van gogh #le comte de saint germain #arthur conan doyle #mozart x reader #vincent x reader #saint germain x reader #arthur x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire #headcanons #imagines

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Shakespeare: I brought you here to play the most dangerous game.

MC: Knife Monopoly?

Shakespeare:

Shakespeare: I was going to hunt you for sport, but I'm actually interested in Knife Monopoly.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp mc #here i present to you: facts #though i must admit after seeing shakes mess with isaac's feelings and trying to make him out to be smth he's not #i am very much interested in hunting H I M for sport #cmon shakey shakey come out wherever you are #i can see it now #comte: ....mc why do you have a sword #jeanne without missing a beat: this is the way (he's the mandalorian dont @ me) #mc: TO PROTECT THE ONES I LOVE. #isaac completely out of the loop and walking in on the scene: ........feeling unsafe........ #jeanne: would u like a sword too? #isaac: wh--NO #its okay isaac shhhhhh no tears only dreams now #i will protecc #honestly like as much as ik he worries abt being unmanly or like not capable enough as a partner my ass straight up be like #me knowing he's perfect in every way and does his best so i love him regardless: 'does it matter i would protect u to my last breath anyway' #'MINNIE NO' #'MINNIE Y E S' #also love that the translation confirmed that he is considered the baby of the house and everyone literally cannot resist the urge #to take care of him #because what a MOOD #i see isaac i have the sudden urge to make him his favorite food and tuck him in to make sure he's sleeping at a timely hour #HAVE YOU EATEN TODAY SON #one does not simply see isaac and NOT become a mother hen #source: lemxntarts

[pandora-morningstar]

If the ikevamp boys met their descendants PT 2

As Dazai, Issac and Arthur where getting acquainted with Atsumu, Elsie and Alistair the others where in a state of shock, so all of these kids where their descendants. Charlotte was then yanked by a boy.

Theo and Vincent:

The boy, again had the same hair and eye colours as Theo, he looked panicked and was shaking Charlotte by her shoulders.

???: Where's my sister?

The boy had a Dutch accent lacing his panicked voice, Charlotte took his hands off her shoulders and spun him around so he could see a girl looking at some paintings while holding Jasmine's hand

Charlotte: calm down, Fabian. Valarie's just looking at the paintings made by your great great great uncle, who might I add is stood three feet away from us with his brother

Vincent and Theo looked at eachother for a brief second while Fabian got Valarie and Jasmine back

Theo: their ours?

Charlotte: in a way, but their not Vincent's, their yours Theo. Vincent, like I said, is their great great great uncle, so your their main predecessor

Theo had tears in his eyes as he hugged Fabian but that in turn made Valarie freak out and run off, Vincent went after her and brought her back by having her clinging tightly to his side

Shakespeare:

Will looked to his left and a pair of mirror imaged hertrochromatic eyes met his, a boy with a short ponytail was stood next to him.

Shakespeare: whomst be you, thy good fellow?

Valerie ran and hugged the boy who smiles

Fabian: Val, get away from that theatre wh*re

Val: Fabian, Chris is my friend

Chris: my dear Fabian, you speak with honey coated word to your sister and yet your lips drip with venom when addressing me

Charlotte: Fabian, leave Chris alone

Fabian: no, I don't want that shady Shakespeare near my sister

Will looked over at Chris and put his hand on his shoulder, Chris then smiles

Chris: yes I'm yours

Leonardo:

Leo looks around before turning to Charlotte who was kissing a boy with the same hair colour as him. He walked over to them and tapped Charlotte's shoulder.

Leo: pardon my interruption, but who is this and why are you kissing him young lady?

???: Well, belladonna this is not how I imagined how I'd meet my predecessor

Leo: come again?

???: I'm Dante Da Vinci

Leo: alright then Dante, why where you kissing Charlotte?

Dante: I always do that, and you have another descendant as well

Leo: I do?

Jasmine comes running towards them and Dante kneels down and lifts her up

Jasmine: daddy, daddy can we get a drink. I'm thirsty

Dante: yes we can, I'll be back soon Belladonna I'm taking jasmine to get a drink

Charlotte: okay, sweetie. Before you ask, Dante is my husband

Leo would have hit the ground if Comte didn't catch him when he fainted

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp oc #ikevamp theo #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp leonardo

[pathofcomet]

loving any of us is a death sentence, isn’t it?

fandom: ikemen vampire

pairing: isaac/MC

summary:  “I trust you,” she apologizes. / “Then you’re nothing but a fool,” he spits out. / But she knows it’s just because he’s watching her break his heart. (OR, MC returns back to the 21st century).

rating: explicit // word count: 5.4k // AO3

She has held Isaac throughout most of the night in her embrace, as he cried on her shoulder over his lost friend, over his newfound purpose and dear humanity, over the feelings that they share between each other. Back in his room, she has wiped his tears away, has allowed him to get lost in their kisses. And when the sighs turned into moans, when his cries turned from hurt to pleasure, she dropped to her knees in front of him, hands working fast to undo his belt, pull at his pants.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

His voice sounded soft, lost, needy – more than anything else. She said nothing, hands already working on his cock. Both of them still in their clothes, just his member out. Isaac’s cheeks burned, for they looked like nothing but two too desperate lovers, rushing for release.

Her mouth was close, blowing hot air over him, and he whined, pushing his hips closer. She kissed the tip of his cock, before her tongue started lapping around him. Isaac’s entire body shuddered, when she took him in, all of him past her lips – and she hollowed her cheeks, his hands flying to twist in her hair. Instinctually, needy, he started moving, pulling out a bit, entering her warmth again, fucking her mouth. She hummed, and he swore.

One of her hands was digging in his clothed thigh, painful despite the material. The other one started playing with his balls.

“Gods!” Isaac exclaimed, and her movements were meeting his, bringing him closer and closer to his release.

He tried to pull out, but her hands hooked around his waist, keeping him in place – and he came inside her. She sucked; opening her mouth to show him that all is gone once done. Isaac felt dizzy and light, and she chuckled, kissing the top of his dick again, helping him back into his clothes.

She laid him out in bed, playing with her hands in his hair. His hand tightened around her waist.

“What about you?” he asked.

She said nothing, just shook her head and kissed his forehead, held him close as sleep took him. She stayed like that for a long time, until the light of the morning started filtering through – and as careful as she could, she left him behind.

***

She’s still thinking of those shared moments, as she sits in an armchair in le Comte’s office, staring at her hands. Her dress, out of which she hasn’t changed yet, is stained in the blood of the person she loves the most, and his dead friend. The shirt turned red under her own blood is still unwashed, in one of the drawers in her room.

Her hands are trembling, as she’s staring at the hourglass on the table in front of her. She can barely see the sand left on top of it anymore. She’s terribly cold.

“Ma chérie…” Comte sighs, when he enters and notices her there. He looks exhausted.

He seems to have guessed what this is about, at least to some extent; and he doesn’t sound the least surprised. Oh well, she thinks, maybe this has been coming since the beginning, and no matter how much she fought against it, the epilogue of this story has already been written.

The cup of black coffee that he offers her shakes in her hold, and Comte is staring intently at her reactions, at the lost look in her eyes, at the determination in her shoulders.

“I want to return to my days,” she says.

The ticking of his clock goes on, ten times, before Comte sighs.

“Of course, ma chérie. No problem. But – does he know?”

A bit of the coffee spills on her already ruined dress. One of her hands is crumpling the material in her hold.

“He will,” she answers, vaguely.

His touch on her shoulder is comforting, and she leans just a bit into his touch.

“Can I do anything for you?” he asks, and his thumb is tracing patterns over her skin.

She wants to cry. Instead, she just shakes her head, gets up.

“Thank you for… everything, Comte.”

She somehow still manages to smile.

***

Isaac is late for breakfast, so Sebastian sends her up to his room instead. She wants to deny the task, but there’s no real excuse for it – and the last thing she wants is for the other men in the house to know what she has in her mind before the actual day.

He is awake, but still in bed, under his blankets; still somewhat lost into his own century. Her heart squeezes in her chest, as she places the tray on his desk, taking just the bottle of blanc with her. She can’t help getting close, kissing the top of his head in greeting. Isaac smiles at her – no, beams at her, like she’s bringing all the light in his life, like she’s the sun who makes the dark disappear. She almost throws up, steels herself instead.

If she can’t go through this, then she cannot expect of herself to pass the threshold of that door, back in the clutches of the 21st century life. It’s the beating of her heart, each one counting another second passing by, that eventually grounds her.

She watches him drink and eat, and she tries to memorize everything: the arch of his eyebrows, the delicacy in doing something as simple as that, the curve of his lips when he catches her eyes. She loves him so much she doesn’t have words, so much that it hurts.

“Isaac…” He looks up, something in her voice already telling him something is wrong. “Today is my last day here.”

He chokes.

“Wh-what?” he croaks, looking incredulously at her.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Where?” He asks dumbly, and he feels pathetic, and this is the first problem he ever encountered that he doesn’t have the immediate answer to.

She reluctantly glances up at him, her brows furrowing at the expression on his face, like he’s hanged in the moment before being stroked down. She moves a bit closer, cradling his face in her hands. He can’t fix his eyes on her.

“Two hundred years from now…. find me,” is all she says.

“Please,” he begs, holding onto her wrists. “You… You’re breaking my heart.”

She tries not to look at Isaac’s face, knowing that if she sees the expression on there, the resolve in her will break apart. But she cannot stay here, living and dying in a world unknown, just because she loves one man. Even if that man managed to so easily become her everything. She loves him, which is why she has the courage to be selfish.

“But I’m saving mine,” she whispers, and he rests his forehead on hers, trying to anchor himself.

If she is to live out the rest of the years left in her, then she wants to do it home. With him by her side, that would be bliss – but she doesn’t want it here. So, she compromises. Or rather, she asks a compromise of him.

If he is to still love her, centuries after her departure, then he will find her, waiting, in her own time. He sobs.

“You’re so unfair…”

She leans closer to him; his arms embrace her with ease, and she places kisses all over his face, feeling the salt in his tears on her lips. She won’t apologize for asking this of him, and he knows it. He can’t find it in himself to be upset over it.

“Isaac…,” she sighs out his name. “I’m just a human. My lifespan is nothing compared to the eternity laid out in front of you. I want to live it on my own terms.”

If he were to answer what haunts him most vividly, constantly, painfully from his life before, then it’s those few seconds of dying, when you know the darkness is coming, and yet there’s nothing you can do to fight it. The incredible fear of not actually coming back, even if he was promised it.

So he can’t hold it against her. He can only hold her close.

***

Dazai is the one accompanying her, the rest of the guys waiting for her next to the door. He shakes his head at her.

“This doesn’t sit well with me, Toshiko-san…”

“It’s okay,” she tries to smile. “It doesn’t have to.”

She makes them all wait until the very last minute, because there’s a particular someone who is missing from the gathering. She tries to excuse it as hugging everyone goodbye. Napoleon lingers a bit in his hold, reproach and hope mingled in his touch. She can’t look at him when she moves away.

Then le Comte’s hand is at her back, slowly pulling her out of her pain, guiding her back to where it all started in the first place. It feels like the time that passed is way longer than 25 days, and way shorter too.

“You should get going,” he says, and even his voice is gentle.

She touches the wooden door, takes a deep breath – then she hears steps, and her heart soars. She turns to the sound, and Isaac is standing in front of her, panting, dressed only in a white shirt, jacket forgotten behind: hurried and broken and, still, hers.

She refrains from touching him. He doesn’t come any closer. They stare at each other for a bit, so many unsaid words hanging between them.

“I trust you,” she apologizes.

“Then you’re nothing but a fool,” he spits out.

But she knows it’s just because he’s watching her break his heart. She turns her back to him, opens a door and walks through time. Her name, a chocked sob on his lips, is the last thing she hears.

***

She learns exactly 25 days have passed in her time as well. Paris, ten times more populated than two centuries ago, never felt so empty or lonely.

She’s late on rent; decides to search for a new place, and make this city in the heart of Europe her new permanent home; based on hope alone. She takes up a new language course. She writes long articles on the Van Gogh brothers, visiting multiple museums, researching. She visits England often, with her work. She falls a bit more in love with it every time, because it holds a part of him. She always makes time to check out at least one of the places in his memories. She fills an entire shelf in her apartment with novels that she thinks Isaac might grow to like, fallen in the gap of time that separates them.

So that when – if, she corrects, he returns, he will return knowing that she has waited for him.

One month after she returns, there’s a letter waiting for her in the mailbox. Only her first name on the envelope, no stamp. Her hands shake; she drops her keys three times before she’s able to get inside. She knows there’s no point in looking around her, le Comte probably having already left a long time ago.

She can recognize his handwriting too – on the paper inside the envelope as well. It’s dated 23 January 1889, and it’s a general update on everyone in the manor. She feels like she’s about to suffocate, her brain unable to make the time jumps that pure blood vampires seem to have no problems with. Still, she accepts it gratefully, cradles it at her chest. For many days in a row, the paper is left sitting on the side of the bed that she never occupies.

There’s only one sentence about Isaac: He’s drowning in his research, and it is telling her nothing, and it is telling her everything. She cries bitter tears, for him.

It doesn’t show the next night, when she works on a photoshoot. The phone numbers left by several workers, she throws them in the trash. She starts wearing a golden band on her ring finger, just so the attention dies out.

She’s aware, how stupid she might seem to the rational side of herself: building a future on the belief that several weeks of love will make-up for a betrayal worth centuries. But she’s anything but rational, as she moves on with her life.

And the letters never stop; so she must not be the only one stuck with the memories of those days stuck in her heart. Dazai and Sebastian co-write a letter in Japanese, dated 1906. Next comes a neat, small package: and inside she finds the ribbon she wore once, back when the constant feeling entirely bloomed in her heart now was just beginning to sprung. She stares at it, not knowing what to make of it – panic overtaking her, her breath hitching in her throat, sob half-formed stuck inside her body. Is this an echo of the past, a mirrored gift… or just Isaac’s way of saying there’s no need for him to have anything of hers? She still wears it.

Then comes Napoleon’s note: He’s counting down to the day he meets you, down to the seconds. It’s 1938 when he writes it – and she sticks it up on her wall. No matter how much she wants it, Isaac never writes to her directly. Still, isn’t it enough that he’s allowing the others to tell her all these things? No, the same selfish part of her that put her in this situation in the first place is saying, but she’s set on never asking anything of him ever again, in this wretched life that she decided to call his.

She spends afternoons piecing together the Isaac he’s becoming, in her absence. The distance keeps getting smaller, until – one day, on the first days of winter, she bumps into someone familiar while on her usual work routine.

“Theodorus?” her voice is weak, and yet the man in question still turns around, to look at her.

“Oh,” is all he says, and it feels like she’s just been cut in half by that single sound. He does his best not to flinch when she grabs his hand.

“Theo, please, is he… is he here?”

He grabs her hand, moves it away, and yet there’s still some kind of gentleness even in that refusal. She’s staring at her palms, trembling, before raising her head, facing him head on, repeating her question.

He shakes his head. The world tilts and she looks like she’s about to fain.

“Breathe, Knabbeltje,” Theo orders, and she does, hungry and desperate gulps of air. “He’s in England, for a while.”

She nods, turns on her heels and leaves. She cannot remember if she properly even thanked him. She played with time like she owned it, so she has no way of knowing if for a while means her entire lifetime or a few weeks or months. She drags her jacket closer to her body. She’s so, so cold.

***

She wears a red scarf; not to match all the Christmas cheer and decorations around her, but because it reminds her of Isaac’s most worn jacket. She meets no one; walks around the stalls, takes a couple of photos, tastes ginger bread and chocolate from various places, ends up with a hot cup of mulled wine in her hands, as she stops to admire this year’s Christmas tree.

She stands there for a while, content with just sipping from her drink, body turning colder and colder the more she doesn’t move. People are good at avoiding her, passing her by for photos in front of the lights, which is why the person stopping right by her side, just as unmoving as her, immediately catches her attention.

She checks her wristwatch, past midnight; she can feel the other’s eyes on her – and it’s a watch that’s been broken and repaired once, in the 19th century. She softly shakes the snowflakes from her scarf, and refuses to really look at whoever joined her when she speaks.

“Happy Birthday, Isaac.”

He hooks a hand around her elbow, pulling until she faces him. Where he touches her, her body warms up.

He carries over two centuries of separation, while she only had to wait months to see him again. A terrible burden to have him to bear; yet Isaac looks like he’s always done, when in her vicinity: lit up from the inside, with love.

She feels her feet giving out below her; he’s next to her, keeping her up, his arms looping around her waist. He’s so close now that she can’t think. He smells different now, soft soap and just the tiny bit of sweetness.

He hisses, hard, when she looks up at him and they make eye contact. He wants to let go, but she grabs him by his coat, keeps him right there, having her in his arms. His eyes go wide.

“Is it- you… you’re real? Is it you, indeed?”

She nods, biting her lower lip so she won’t cry. His fingers dig into her sides, painful even through the clothes. There’s something in his eyes that she didn’t see before – and she knows, that whatever choice she made on that day, it affected him more. And it was close to unbearable for her as it is.

“Speak,” he demands.

“Isaac,” she says, and he shivers against her. Of course, her voice is as it’s always been, maybe just tinged with a more desperate yearning around his name.

He kisses her, desperately, quite literally taking her breath away. His tongue is at her lips in an instant, hungry – and she opens her mouth against his eagerly. What distance is between them, the layers of clothes; it’s all too much.

“Found you,” he says.

***

He pounds into her, and her mind goes blank, a river of curses and moans out of her mouth. She grasps at his shoulders, pulling him closer still, spreading her legs wider, allowing him even more space, to hit her spot just right. It hurt at first; he took her the second the clothes were to the floor, entering her with no warning or preparation – and yet she’s getting fucked so good she’s finding herself melting in pleasure.

“When,” she pants, “did you learn to fuck like this?”

Her toes curl in the sheets, as he fills her completely, stilling inside of her. He rolls his hips, drawing out a loud mewl of his name out of her, and he curses at the sight, her face lost in pleasure, skin flushed all over.

He nips at the skin at her neck, nuzzling at the crook of her neck; the gesture gentle compared to the way he’s been pounding inside of her just a few moments ago.

“I’ve had centuries to imagine you like this,” his hands are tracing her body, stopping to cradle her boobs in his palms, fingertips playing with her nipples. She gasps, biting her lips.

“So,” she starts, and is interrupted by her own moans, as his mouth descends on her chest. “No… womanly adventures with Arthur?”

He stops, his touches gone in just an instant, and Isaac’s expression darkens. He moves one hand on her thigh, spreading her legs open, to the point her muscles burn; the other at her navel, pinning her down to the mattress. Then, he starts pounding in her: wild and fast, back and forth, slamming in her. Her body hitches, her voice hoarse with the scream that first shove inside her makes her feel. She can hear the wet sounds of her arousals, the slaps of his skin on hers.

“To think,” he grunts, and the lewd sound of his dick slamming inside her accompanies his words. “that you’re out here with th-these,” another, and this time he hits her g-spot, and she moans. “assumptions about me, and I’m-” his body lowers, his tongue lapping at her neck “still fucking you.”

He chuckles against her skin, the breath of air at her ear driving her wild with need, as his pounding is incessant.

“Isaa-aah! More, p-please, mo-”

Her voice dies out, because his fangs are against her skin, piercing it. He bites her; the mixture of pain and pleasure sending her over the edge as he drinks her blood. She can feel herself squeezing him, she can hear him moaning. His face looks like he’s a man in pain, and despite it, he still moves inside her, helping her ride out her release. There’s blood trickling down her neck, on her boobs, and she looks sweaty and flushed and entirely spent – and he’s been waiting for this for too long.

“Look at you,” he says, fascination and disgust in one, and he can feel her squeezing him. “To think you still took it so well, even from someone who had to practice for it.”

“Isaac!” her voice is indignant.

He’s still hard inside her, and he rolls his hips, her voice lost in a moan. He moves, licking around her nipples, sucking the sensitive buds one by one, as she writhes underneath him.

“How many men stretched you before, for you to be such a good little slut?”

Her cheeks burn with shame at his words, and her pussy throbs with need. He bites against the thin stick of her left breast, though he doesn’t drink this time around. He just leaves the marks over her body, blood mingling with the sweat of their bodies as he starts pumping inside of her again.

She moans out his name, time and time again.

“Answer me,” he snarls, moving to pin down her hands above her head, shifting their position, his chest pressed against hers. She looks absolutely fucked out, eyes rolling to the back of her head which each hit deep inside her, and yet when he commands it, she does as asked.

“No one, gods--, no one!”

He releases her, a hand of his moving where their bodies connect, finding her clit, tantalizingly pressing against it. Her breath hitches in her throat, her hands grabbing in the air for something to hold onto, finding nothing.

“Then cum for me,” Isaac says, and she does.

He continues snapping his hips to hers, coming as well in just three more pumps, way before she comes down from the high of her second orgasm. He drags a hand through his hair, wet with sweat. She’d like to do the same, her chest constricting. He starts pulling out, and she’s suddenly scared, grabs at his shoulder to keep him in place.

“Can we – can we stay like this for a bit?” she’s shy when asking, not expecting for her request to be granted. She’s already stepping all over the rules she came up with on her own.

He holds her, as he moves her to lay down on top of him. She can feel his cum trickling down between their bodies, yet she basks in her afterglow, and in the feeling of having him at all. She’s tracing patterns over his chest with her finger.

His eyes catch her ring. He frowns. She shivers.

“You should get cleaned up,” he says, and he’s helping her spent body once again.

She presses her palm between her legs. He can’t stop staring at her cunt, as she’s doing her utmost best to keep his cum inside of her. She’s whimpering with each touch of her finger against her folds, hypersensitive.

Isaac leaves; returns from the bathroom with a wet cloth. He catches her eyes, a question in his, a resolution in hers. He approaches to help clean her up, and she takes her hand, her glistening fingers – and presses them against her tongue. Isaac can feel his dick stirring again, and he decides not to look at her at all.

He’s moving as gently as he can, though the material is rougher than her fingers, and the whimpers are louder this time around. She’s hugging herself, arms around her chest – tired, but feeling still hurt by his care and attention.

“Do you hate me?” she mumbles, words hidden in her pillow.

The cloth drops to the floor. Isaac is moving around her room, picking up his discarded things, getting dressed. She can hear him, and for a long minute, he stops, the room dreadfully silent. Isaac is staring at a note taped on the wall, but she can’t bear to open her eyes and actually see him walking out on her.

***

She doesn’t hear from him or of him for six months. She spends the entire Holiday season holed up in her room, regretting everything, hating herself. She picks herself back up again, slowly; because this is a choice she’s made and regretting it now makes no sense. She watches the marks fade from her body.

Then, while drinking her first coffee of the day in her favourite coffee place, Napoleon sits down at her table, his own cup in his hands. She regards him coolly, though she knows she is unfair to him just because of his best friend.

“Long time no see,” he says.

She nods. There’s something eerie about seeing these historical figures in modern days, just having their breakfast in her vicinity. The plain clothes suit him though, which is not something she thought she’d say about a former emperor.

Just when she’s ready to ask her own questions, Napoleon speaks.

“Are you married?”

“Wh-what?!”

He gestures towards her hand. She takes off her ring, pressing it to Napoleon’s palm. There is a phrase engraved inside it: the great ocean of truth. Part of Isaac’s last words, Isaac’s purpose in life and afterlife both. She carries it with her, as penance for the time she asked him to live pursuing it, without her by his side.

“Does he know?”

That it’s her own promise towards him, that she is to love him, like a woman loves her the one, until her own dying gasp? No, of course not. So far, she has only asked, gave nothing.

“Does it matter now? He hates me for what I’ve done.”

She can still remember his angry touches, his hurt love-making – and she’s grateful to have had it at all. How pathetic does that make her?

“You’ve hurt him,” Napoleon agrees. “But that doesn’t mean he hates you. He’s walked through time, at time’s own pace, for you. He’s seen the changes in the world… and he might understand why you decide to stand here and now. Even if he wishes you would have explained it to him before.”

He returns the ring to her. Her coffee is growing cold.

“Is he… Is he in a lot of pain?”

“Less than he used to?” Napoleon answers, though he sounds quite unsure.

***

“I love this century!” Dazai says, as they go out for lunch together, at a Japanese restaurant.

They talk nothing of importance, at least until the food arrives, and they know they won’t be interrupted anymore.

“Dazai-san… I want his number.”

“Unfortunately I have Ai-chan’s express orders to not do such a thing,” he sighs, placing his chopsticks down on the table.

He’s kindly patting her head, with his now freed hand.

“But Toshiko-san… are you in a lot of pain?”

He’s a gentleman, so he doesn’t comment on her tears. He still hands her his handkerchief. No amount of gentle dabbing can stop her face from the red blotches popping up.

“Every minute I’m not with him, is just a minute I won’t have back again.”

Dazai sighs, understanding. This poor girl has been surrounded by immortal vampires, and learnt how to recognize her own mortality. She has given her heart to one of them, and she understands that her life is just a drop in the ocean of his being. And yet – smart, wicked, selfish girl, she has had him for the past two hundred years or so either way.

“Well, I could tell you where to find him…?”

She snaps up to her feet. Dazai grabs her arm, gently but firmly guiding her back to her chair.

“Finish your meal with me first?”

“Of course.”

***

She’s waiting in front of the university gates. In this time, no one bothers her or wonders why she’s here at all, even if back when they met, the sight of a woman on academic grounds was still entirely unnatural. She stole a cigarette from Dazai’s pack earlier, and she’s now smoking as she waits, trying to calm down her nerves.

Then he appears – and it feels almost too easy, to see him after such a long time. He’s talking with someone, walking in fast paces; she’s staring so hard she’s afraid she’ll leave a hole through his body. She throws her unfinished cigarette on the ground, stepping over its lit end. She calls out his name, notices him stop dead in his tracks.

He doesn’t turn at first, passing a hand through his hair, annoyed. He apologizes to his companion. When he eventually looks at her, there’s so much in his expression that she can’t even begin to pull it apart and decipher it.

Isaac stops a distance away from her; enough that they can have a conversation that won’t be overheard by others, enough that he can’t just reach out to her and touch her.

“What do you want?” he asks, trying his best to sound unaffected at the sight of her, seeking him.

“How are you?” she questions back.

She’s holding onto her bag strap with more force than necessary, her nails digging painfully in her palm. She sounds weak and vulnerable and tired, which is why Isaac sighs, comes one step closer.

His fingers find hers, slowly untangling her hold, smoothing out the crescent marks left behind with his thumb. She’s holding her breath, staring at him. Maybe it’s this: the sight of her, as ravaged as he feels the insides of his ribcage, that turns him honest.

“I miss you,” he murmurs, and he takes her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

“I’m right here,” she says, and he’s withdrawing, like her skin turns to flame and it hurts him to touch her.

“Y-you don’t understand! I… I don’t want you if you’re not mine…”

His voice dies out towards the end, just above a whisper. His arms fall next to his body, defeated. She reaches out for him, her hand cradling his cheek. She’s never felt the need to comfort him this strongly. The band of her ring is cold against his skin, and yet he can’t push her away, not again.

She searches through the pockets of her pants, and she presses her find in his palm. The metal just as cold there, but her hands are oh so warm. He stares, first at the ring in his hold, then up at her. He hurts with hope.

“Wh-what is the meaning of this?”

The gold glistens in the afternoon sun. He catches the writing, swirls the ring around in-between his fingers so he can catch the entire phrase: all undiscovered before me.

“Spend the rest of my life with me?” she asks, and it’s her turn to sound faint and unsure.

If she were him, she’d say no. She’s been so selfish, and maybe that’s her sin: that she just takes and takes, and has nothing better to give than herself.

What she doesn’t know is that he’d say yes to death for her.

He embraces her, so close and tight that her shoulder blades hurt. In this time, no one cares for their desperate public display of affection. She’s trembling in his arms, and yet she is, finally, warm and safe and loved. His words are mumbled in her hair, as she plays with his hair.

“You’re terrible.”

“Yes,” she hums. “I know.”

“The wait almost killed me.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “I know.”

“You don’t really deserve me saying yes.”

“Yes,” she assents. “I know.”

“Th-then how come I love you anyway?”

“I love you too.”

***

The one thing that she misses, now that she lays in the grass by Isaac’s side, holding his hand, ring against ring, promise tied against promise, is the night sky. The lights around them, the city burning bright at all hours of the night, dim the lights of the universe.

And yet, she has spent a long time watching the city lights, connecting them together like stars. They never shined as bright as tonight. She wonders, strengthening the hold on his hand, making Isaac look back at her, who they would be without what they’ve been through.

He smiles at her, rolling around on his side so he can drape an arm around her waist, kissing delicately at her jaw.

Ah, she thinks, isn’t that a worthless question to ponder on? When they’re everything she could have wanted, right here and right now?

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp isaac #isaac x mc #isaac x reader #ikevamp #ikevamp fic #am i filling the isaac tag like no one else? yeah #am i sorry? not really #i loved writing this for him bc it fixes my no 1 frustration with this game #my writing

[crimson-snowfall]

Isaac Route Countdown: Scenario Alphabet (STU)

S - Sandwich

Isaac was solving a rather complex mathematical problem when you came in with a towering stack of sandwiches on a plate.

"Wh...what in the world is that?" He couldn't help but ask in his absolute bewilderment.

"Sandwiches! Your favorite food," You chimed in enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I can see that but–"

"Well, I know you really like them but you never really give me a concrete answer when I ask you which sandwich filling do you like the best, so maybe sampling them all will help you make up your mind?"

"But I already had breakfa–"

"I made all of these with love," you said with that smile, the kind of smile that charms and terrifies Isaac at the same time.

"Fine..." Isaac murmured defeatedly as he reached for the topmost sandwich on the ridiculous stack.

Isaac ended up getting so stuffed that he still wasn't able to decide which one he liked the best.

T - Taste

"Isaac, do you mean it when you say my blood is the sweetest thing you've ever tasted?" You asked out of the blue as the two of you were cuddling in bed.

Planting a kiss on your forehead, he replied affectionately, "Yes, why do you ask?"

"Then, does rouge taste sweet too?"

"Not really... it varies for me, and sometimes they can be as tasteless as water."

"That's strange. So does that mean if other vampires bit me, it might also be–"

"No," Isaac firmly cut your statement off, and you felt his embrace tighten around you. You looked up on him in mild confusion.

"They won't know what it tastes like," his voice was deeper than usual as he massaged that tender spot on your neck, before coming down to run his tongue all over it. The sensation was so overwhelming that your ears barely caught Isaac's words before he plunged his fangs into your flesh,

"...because I'll never let anyone else have even a drop."

U - University

Isaac had just dismissed his last class in the university he'd been teaching and was about to gather up his things, when a pair of soft, warm hands covered his eyes.

"Guess whoooo?" You asked in a singsong voice.

While there's no mistaking the feel of your hands nor the sound of your voice, Isaac briefly felt out of sync with reality– he wasn't really expecting you to be there to begin with.

You finally let him go after he spoke your name with mild uncertainty, pulling him into a soft embrace as you turned him around.

"Comte sent me on an errand on a nearby boutique, and I decided to drop by here since I couldn't wait to see you again," you explained with a cheerful smile before he even had the chance to ask his question.

While that doesn't really explain how you managed to get in, much less how you managed to find his room, Isaac was simply too delighted to see you after a long, exhausting day that the specifics didn't really matter to him anymore.

More than anything, he was looking forward to walking home with you.

Isaac Route Countdown: 12 | 11 | 10 | 9 | 8 | 7 | 6 | 5 | ☆ | 3 | 2 | 1 |

#isaac route countdown #ikemen vampire #ikemen series #ikevamp #ikevamp isaac #ikemen vampire isaac #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevamp scenarios #ikemen vampire fanfiction #scenario alphabet