#ikevamp comte de saint germain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

azulashengrottospiano · 5 months

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Hey aubs <3

Saw the ikevamp reqs and i keep thinking about how germain was my favorite, but back when i played his route wasn't even out (sadge) so i was thinking if you could do me a solid* (you always do and are such an amazing author fr fr <3)

So i was thinking, can you do me frienemies-to-lovers germain and gn! vampire "hunter"! reader? You can make it whatever prompt you feel like <3

HAVE A GOOD DAYYYY <3

*it's ABSOLUTELY no pressure, you can absolutely delete this req if you don't wanna do it

SUMMARY: you run into comte (or rather, he runs into you) after you kill a vampire.

WARNINGS: none!!! :D

COMMENTS: UM THIS ISNT QUITE ENEMIES TO LOVERS BUT . I THINK IT TURNED OUT OKAY ^^; not beta read because im lazy if theres typos DONT READ THEM THEYRE NOT THERE

Your vision goes blurry as you’re thrown against the wall of a dingy alleyway, sharp nails digging into your skin. A loud hiss and hot breath against your neck make your heart jump in your throat. Grasping at your wooden stake, you smack the back of it against the vampire’s head, sending them reeling. Taking the chance, you kick them up against the opposite wall and drive your stake through their hand.

Their scream of pain smells like blood and flesh.

You aim a well-placed kick at their head, knocking them to the concrete, and they still. The sickening crack of their skull meeting the pavement gains no reaction from you.

You reach down, yanking the wooden stake out from their hand. They don’t move.

You raise it over your head and bring it down, stabbing straight through their chest.

A raspy breath escapes the body as their muscles twitch, and they fall still once again.

“I see you’re out and about again, mon chérie.”

You don’t even acknowledge the familiar voice as you stare down at your most recent kill. Despite what people in the business say, you know you’ll never quite get used to this.

Not killing the vampires, and certainly not the vampire that’s taken to following you around on nights like these.

His name is Comte de Saint Germain, and the tension between you two has always been palpable.

“Indeed I am.” you finally respond, turning to face his towering silhouette. It’s at times like these when you’re fully aware that he is, indeed, a vampire, despite what the upper class of France may believe.

It’s not that you’re wary of him because he’s the type of beast you hunt.

You’re wary of him because he hasn’t stopped you yet.

“I’m assuming that poor soul attacked an innocent.” he mused, stepping closer to you in order to examine the body.

“They did.” you answer curtly.

Comte hums. He kneels next to the body and murmurs something under his breath.

You reach for your stake.

“There’s no need for that.” he turns back to you as if sensing your movement smiling up at you.

The smile is tense. Fake. Meant to make you let down your guard.

You grip your stake harder.

Comte stands up, not a single speck of blood or dust on his clothing. He’s facing you, the smile on his face still plastered across his lips.

“You should consider taking a more peaceful approach next time. You never know what the vampire you kill could be suffering from.” Comte says, and although his voice is soft there’s a steely edge to it.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing as you wait for the slightest movement.

He makes no move towards you. Instead, he chuckles and disappears into the night, and you’re left in the alleyway with blood-soaked clothing and a racing heart.

#raptor <3 #auburn talks ikevamp <3 #auburn's fics <3 #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #ikevamp comte #comte de saint germain #ikevamp comte de saint germain #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikemen vampire #cybird #comte x reader #ikevamp comte x reader #comte de saint germain x reader

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ikemenlibrary · 6 months

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Humanity (Ikémen Vampire)

Pairing: Comte de Saint Germain x MC Summary: Yet another year on earth, and Comte battles with himself and what it means to be alive and love someone so human.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Talk about humanity and the meaning of human life, naked Comte, naked MC, there's implied sex but nothing sexual

A note from the author: Happy birthday to the character who made me fall in love at first glance. I never believed in cliche romances before he came along.

The scent of sweet vanilla wafted through Comte de Saint Germain’s nose and he sensed her presence before her delicate arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind. Comte had spent all day in his office responding to piles of letters he had neglected due to spending more time with his lover as of recently.

It was late when she came to check in on him, most of the residents of the mansion had already retired to their bedrooms for the night and Comte could hear Sebastian gently close the linen closet located off the kitchen, signaling he was done with work for the night.

“Good evening, Ma Chérie,” Comte greeted her quietly. His voice was a tad bit hoarse from not speaking all day.

“Hello my love,” she greeted back warmly, her chin going to rest on the top of his head. “You’ve worked quite a bit today.”

Comte grimaced, a pang of guilt throbbing as his stomach as he remembered earlier how he had brushed off her advances for joining him for afternoon tea. “Ah, yes. Well, when you’re at the top of Paris’s aristocratic food chain, you tend to get bogged down with work sometimes.” He chuckled lightly when he felt her chest heave in a silent laugh at his bad joke.

She fondly pushed back a piece of his hair that had fallen while Comte had started to work, and just that little act of affection had Comte closing his eyes and leaning his whole body toward her warmth. Sighing, he pushed himself back up in his chair, hunching over the dozen or so letters littering his desk. “What is it that’s so urgent this time?”

She placed herself upon the edge of his desk, curiously glancing at all the papers. Comte held one up, his eyes glinting, mischievous behind the tiredness. “Seems as if my dear old friend has once again caught the affection of some of the noblewomen he met in town. I must turn them down before they start booking dates at the church.”

Peering down at the letter, she giggled as she realized it was yet another letter of a marriage proposal addressed to Leonardo. How anyone still had the patience to try with him, she would never understand. He never gave the women in town more than a polite smile and a small conversation, and yet that was enough for them to fall for him. “Don’t work too much later, darling.” She cooed, hopping off his desk and running her hand affectionately across his shoulder. “You need to take time to rest, too.” She waited a moment for his response, and when she realized she wasn’t going to get one, she pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, and left his office as quietly as she came.

She was too sweet to him, her unwavering kindness not something he was deserving of. But, nonetheless, he would relish in her warmth, and hold her a little tighter to him the next time she was laid in his arms. He promised her an eternity of love, and he would do everything in his power to uphold that promise.

After sealing yet another letter with his stamp, Comte leaned back in his chair as he heard footsteps approaching his office. Two sets this time. His two favorite people. The door creaked open noisily, and it was Leonardo who stepped in first, Comte’s lover following close behind with a determined look in her eyes.

“Alright, old man, I can do the rest of these. Time for you to get out of here for the night, or she’s gonna chew me out again.” Leonardo chuckled, looking at the woman with adoration in his eyes. Though his words weren’t as kind, Comte knew his dearest friend held nothing but love for that woman in his heart, and Comte would have it no other way. He loved that they got along, and when they bickered like children, it reminded him of the beauty of youthfulness. Comte watched as his beloved sent a glare towards Leonardo, and he chuckled as his friend held his hands up with mock surrender. “It’s not my fault all the women in town find me irresistible.”

“It is your fault when you do nothing to dissuade them,” Comte remarked, pushing out his chair and smoothing out the creases in his pants as he stood up.

“Maybe if they knew how much of a messy slob you were they’d-” Comte cut off his wife with a kiss. She was teasing, but he knew if she started in on Leonardo, that it would only lead to them hurling insults at each other like siblings, and Comte was tired. He wanted to stow away with his lover and enjoy some time together before the evening grew too late.

“If you want to finish the last of these, I can have Sebastian post them tomorrow.” Comte gestured to the last few open letters on the desk and he sighed as Leonardo plopped himself in his chair, his heavy boots banging noisily on the desk as he propped them up, crossing one leg over the other.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll finish these up so I can go back to sleep. Cara mia decided she didn’t care about my wellbeing and woke me up to put yours first.” Leonardo grabbed one of the letters on the table, and as she gripped Comte’s hand in her own, Leo looked over his shoulder. “And Comte?” The man hummed in response. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, my dear old friend.” Comte accepted the wish gracefully, a soft smile playing on his lips as the pair left his office, closing the door gently behind them. Instead of heading to their shared bedroom, she led Comte in the other direction toward the bathing room. It was well past scheduled times for using it, and although it could be seen as a waste of water, Comte followed her silently, ready to sink his aching muscles in warm water and hold her close.

They undressed together, and although they had each been naked around each other many times before, he took his time uncovering every inch of her skin. His hands deftly loosening her corset, letting her poofy dress drop to the ground and he leaned his head down, kissing her bare shoulders, following down the path to her collarbones, and up over her neck. The swell of her breasts pressed into his body, and although he wasn’t yet bare, the familiar ache in the pit of his stomach pulled at the red string tying them together, the want - no, need - for her pulling him even further into her embrace as she reached up to unclip his tie, her hands making quick waste of all of le Comte’s layers.

Comte felt bashful admiring her bare body. No matter how many times she had allowed his eyes to gaze upon her beauty, it always felt like the first. Especially when she had that delightful blush on her cheeks, as she embraced him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he inched their faces closer together, his lips brushing delicately against hers. “Shall we?” He asked quietly, gesturing to the steaming, bubbly water that had filled the room. She nodded, seemingly under the same impression that Comte was under: that the quiet was magical in that moment.

She followed him in, and as he sank down onto the bench, the warm water flowing over him, she followed, her bare thigh touching his own as she sat down. She had put her hair up, her usual cascading curls now resting high up on her head so as not to get them wet, and Comte took a second to admire her like this: flushed cheeks, a delicate sheen of sweat covering her skin, and her neck bare and exposed. She looked lovely, a delectable vision that had Comte regretting never applying himself to learn any sort of artistic abilities. He wanted to paint her, to have this moment framed for safekeeping forever. To remind himself of how beautiful humanity could be at its core, how beautiful the creature before him is. In the endless sea of eternity, he found her, and she brought him back to life in a way that he would’ve never imagined before her. In a way that he was never able to imagine - only daydream about, for a long time.

“Abel,” her voice cut through his thoughts, and she giggled as the bubbles she blew towards him fluttered down on top of his head. “What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm,” he replied, his arm snaking around her waist, pulling her onto his lap, his arms circling her tightly, holding her to him as secure as he could. “Just about how much I love you, Ma Chérie.”

“Oh really?” She replied, demurely. Her arms wrapped around his neck, moving to straddle him, the water sloshing around them. “And how much is that?”

“Infinitely,” le Comte conceded, his breath ghosting over her collarbones as he rested his forehead against her shoulder. “And forever.”

“Will we have forever?” She asked, her eyes filled with uncertainty. He knew what she was asking. One day, his fangs would pierce her rosy flesh and he would plunge her into the deep eternity known as a vampire’s life, but it wasn’t time for that. It wasn’t time to take away the fragile humanity for her that threaded her to this life with a golden thread. It would be one day, but that day could wait to come.

“Of course, we have forever every day that I wake up as a man who gets to be loved by a woman as wonderful as you.” And finally, he captured her lips in the kiss he’s been daydreaming about all day, the only thing that kept his motivation going when he wanted to give up his work. Each breath she breathed into his lips only made him fall in love with humanity even more, the throb of her swollen bitten lips, the pink flush that went from her cheeks all the way down to her décolletage. Some may argue that it was her he was in love with, and with that, he would agree. But she is the reason he fell so deeply in love with the idea of human life being as sacred and guarded as it.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

She was the reason he had even a sliver of humanity left.

“Thank you, mon amour.” Every day, she would be the reason for him to continue striving towards finding more and more of his humanity hidden away behind locked doors, and with each year to come, he would continue to hold her beating heart in his hand, next to his own. Until one day, it stopped beating, and even then, he would love her - and the humanity and kindness and everything that made her, her - forevermore.

#my writing #ikemen vampire #comte x mc #comte saint germain #comte de saint germain #ikemen vampire comte #ikevamp comte #ikevamp comte fanfic #ikevamp comte de saint germain #ikevamp fan fiction #ikevamp fanfic #comte de saint germain fanfic #ikemen vampire comte fanfic

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koco-coko · 2 months

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Cain & | Ikemen Vampire Fic

-> Two halves of a whole, seperated by fate.

Tags/Warnings <--> Past Relationships, Fluff and Angst, Vlad/Comte, Comte/Leonardo (not a threesome), Longing, Grief, Comte is babygirl-coded in this, Spicy Scenes (nothing graphic so viewer discreation advised), Heavy Spoilers for Vlad and Comte!!!

Word Count: 1,981

A/N <--> I wanted to post this on valentines, but then I realized maybe a tragic love story wouldn't be great for valentines... but i mean someone needs to bring down the mood right

i think they might like this: @natimiles @yanderepuck and @azulashengrottospiano (I thought you would like seeing comte be sad and moody and also vlad being silly soo) @drewadoodle

“Hello, Abel.”

Is that what Cain said the morning before he killed his brother?

God always favored Abel. No matter what Cain brought, God always favored his brother. So, enraged, Cain killed his brother Abel. And there was no turning back from that, was there?

The smell of cigarillos and book pages forever clung to the man next to him. The light snores he made were all too familiar. Comte knew the five senses of Leonardo better than he knew his own, really. They were ever-comforting in their mundanity.

As he finished buttoning up his shirt, pants still missing (mysteriously lost in the sea of the wood floor, in the tide of other discarded clothes), he turned to Leonardo and threw his arm over the man’s broad chest. (Though Comte did squint when he realized Leonardo was already asleep– it hadn’t even been five minutes! How was he meant to take this man seriously…)

Ah– he smiled. He knew that feeling, too; the steady beating of his heart, the rising and falling of his lover’s chest. It was all so normal to him. Homely, domestic, all sensation he craved for.

Though, one wouldn’t be able to tell that from the quickly-healing scratch marks on Leonardo’s back, nor the many bruises on Comte’s collarbone and waist.

As le Comte snuggled closer to the Renaissance man, a vision hit him like a stray carriage. He’d been here before, but the senses of familiarity were much different. There had been plentiful bottles of wine that night, too. There had been affection, pleasure, warmth… but there were a few sensations that were unique about that night.

The firelight traced Leonardo’s face in such a romantic way, the pureblood couldn’t help but lean up and kiss his cheek. Comte tried to exude such images from his mind. The past only brought sorrow and longing, and yet… The fireplace crackled.

The fireplace…

The fireplace crackled. “A-And– And-!” Abel hiccuped, a drunken grin on his face while he wobbled about on the floor. It had been a while since he drank so much, wine bottles as old as them littered about the floor. Vlad was barely conscious at this point, giggling like a madman at every word his companion said.

“She didn’t,” Vlad cooed, barely staying upright in his seating position. He leaned against the fireplace several times, his cheeks flush and his forehead beaded with sweat as he reached for Abel’s bottle.

“She did!” he laughed. Then, a short whine as he tried to take the bottle from Vlad’s grasp. When Vlad tugged again, Abel tumbled to the ground next to him. They both couldn’t stop laughing, far beyond the lines of sobriety.

When the cackling died to loose giggles, Abel looked back at Vlad through teary eyes. “My, it truly has been an eternity since I’d seen you,” he said, wiping his wet eyes.

When he looked back, all he saw was a pale red staring at him. The man before him was… entranced, even. Maybe it was the drinks getting to him. Maybe they really were just a bit too drunk. Maybe this was a mistake that he’d regret all his eternal life.

But the next thing Abel knew, his back was against the fur rug and his lips were smashed against Vlad’s. Liquor and Rouge blended into a terribly sweet, terribly addictive taste. A hint of strawberries in there, somewhere. “I missed you, too,” Vlad whimpered, his hands roaming across Abel’s hips. It was just a glimmer, but Abel saw some indescribable sorrow behind the vivid crimson.

Abel opened his mouth, but all words were cut off when Vlad pulled his collar down and peppered kisses across his neck. Abel giggled nervously, his fingertips gliding across Vlad’s back. “You know…” he started, “Despite my ‘prestigious’ reputation, I haven’t–”

Abel’s breath hitched as a bite was placed right on the side of his neck. His fangs didn’t penetrate, though he could tell that the way they graced his skin was intentional.

Vlad lifted himself up, caging in Abel beneath him. His face was flush with alcohol and affection, but that boyish smile seemed stolen straight from the days long gone. “Me neither,” he chuckled, “It’s been awhile since old men like us have done something new, hasn’t it? Tonight seems like a good opportunity.”

It was strange, Comte thought, how he could barely recall anything else about that beloved night. The night he discovered Vlad still lived, that those years spent longing for him weren’t for naught… That the tears he shed may not have been completely useless… It was all just a blur.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, fogging the memory of inexperienced touches and passionate kisses, tongues tying only to break apart so the other could giggle at a mishap. Belt buckles and shoes seemed so hard to take off at that time, filled with silly jokes and laughs, plenty of fiddling, everything felt so… new. Experimental, even. It was rare Abel felt particularly young but never unwelcome.

It may also have been Vlad’s touch, gentle and delicate, but so enticing. He was dedicated to him, as if he were painting a fine masterpiece. Each caress came with passion, though their experience was clear as day. Porcelain fingertips traced their way towards Abel’s face and gently covered his eyes, a soft mantra repeated and infested. A rose field appeared in his mind’s eye, a single whisper from the man on top of him. “Dragă mea…” Sharp fangs sunk into his neck with tender care, a soft caress on his side.

From there, it was a blur of pure bliss.

Comte crawled out of bed with a slight sore in his back, though he knew he would dissipate in minutes. Only once he stood up and searched the floor for his pants did he figure out that his shirt was a size too big. The cigarillo musk was just as prominent despite leaving Leonardo’s side. Ha, really, was his lover so possessive as to hand him his own shirt? Comte shook his head fondly as slid his pants back on.

Comte went about cleaning the area, folding up lost clothing articles and picking up the empty bottles of wine littered across the floor. Maybe they overdid it tonight, but sometimes it was nice to recreate their rebellious and reckless phases from bygone days.

When Comte gazed at the fireplace, memories swirled through his head. It was vivid and blurry, amorous and lonely, everything and nothing. He spent years mourning Vlad, sobbing into his mother’s arms when the news of the Draculęsti family’s death arrived. He remembered acting out constantly, he remembered the longing, the primal need to see him smile one more time.

Abel sighed dreamily, the rose field in front of him seemingly endless. Snow-tipped flowers swayed back and forth like tides on the sea. Despite the wonderful sight in front of him, all he could focus on was the golden pocket watch in his hands, caressing it like a lover. “Is it naive of me to say I’m excited?”

Vlad, laying on his lap, while he played with the split tail of his long coat, merely hummed in vague amusement. “May I ask why you wonder this?”

Golden eyes flitted between the watch and the pureblood snug on his thighs, smiling fondly at each. “It’s nothing, really. Though, often I wonder if my psyche is too human. A newly built home for us both, the expecting of children… I feel like a newlywed wife!” he laughed, his free hand running through Vlad’s silky white hair.

Vlad quickly took Abel’s hand, reverently laying pecks across his fingertips. “I think it’s beautiful. Humans, vampires… I’ve never been able to distinguish us so easily. Well, until that day…” A pause came. Vlad’s smile remained ever gently, not even a flicker in his expression. “No matter, I feel the same, though perhaps I’m too old and jaded to act as giddy,” he chuckled. “Is there anyone you’ve had an eye on, Abel?”

Abel looked out into the sea of roses. A gentle breeze made his long, golden hair sway across his face, though Vlad was quick to sit up and remove it. In this new position, lazy pecks were put against his neck and shoulders. Those everlasting roses, this everlasting love…By any other name, they would smell just as sweet.

“I’ve always had a liking to the works of Shakespeare.”

A yawn elicited Comte to return to his bed, only having a quick tug-of-war with Leonardo for his blankets back. Usually it took longer… He quickly realized that his partner’s relent was due to the arm thrown around his shoulders, forcing Comte close to Leonardo’s chest. He sighed contently as he nuzzled close to his lover.

Comte had never been a fan of the past, at least in recent years. The present was far more constructive, more real than the years he lived. He was never one for reminiscing, and yet, even with his dearest, the man he’d given his heart to, beside him… His mind betrayed all logical thought.

Was it foolish, even moronic, of Abel to sit alone in his room and cry that day? The years of longing and grief had been for naught. Vlad had returned and died again. The mournfulness seemed to infect the halls of the mansion, each wall and painting mocking him. The mansion used to be so warm, so full of expectation and hope.

Now all that lingered was the never-wilting flower, alone and abandoned. Vlad had died twice. Abel’s mourning period seemed to know no end.

Comte desperately tried to purge the memories from his mind. First with Will, his firstborn son, and then the others who followed. Leonardo had been a constant figure, someone to rely on. While a love with Vlad was youthful, Leonardo’s affections were much more mature. Ha! Mature, Leonardo? What an oxymoron, Comte thought.

Still, he couldn’t deny the truth. He was carefree with Vlad by his side, making love whenever the time was right and sharing kisses and cuddles whenever it felt right. They were teenagers in love, hanging on by the loose idea of a bright future with one another. Vlad was the eternal honeymoon.

But Leonardo… The eternal marriage. Affinity was much more subdued. Deep, longing gazes and the lighting and sharing of cigarillos had replaced the passionate and messy kissing. Amorous exchanges only for private viewings replaced the rather indecent affection Vlad would perform close to the public eye. Not to say these things were gone from their relationship, their intense tryst tonight proof of such, but even these impulsive acts were done meticulously, years of trust and deeply-rooted adoration in their every thrust and rub.

With the arrival of the other residents, the mansion had suddenly grown warm again. Perhaps his giddiness over reviving historical greats as his own was a more specific issue of his, but the fact couldn’t be denied: a void was filled. The mansion, the home he had built with Vlad, was now filled with laughter and friendship, bonds between great men (and a woman) that would most certainly last their long lifetimes. The mansion was as it was meant to be: the floors painted with life, the walls etched with memories.

The castle was cold. Quiet, empty. The walls were etched with unwanted, disgraceful memories. Abel had only visited once, and never returned. He couldn’t bear seeing his oldest companion reanimated, yet possessed by a different soul. Vlad had died twice, in Comte’s eye, yet never buried.

“Hello, Abel.”

That’s what Vlad said the morning he killed Abel.

Comte rose from his ashes, staring at the friend he once knew. “It’s been an eternity since I’ve seen you.”

He looked so lonely as he bore an ephemeral smile. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Comte sighed, unable to respond to the stranger before him.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp vlad #Ikevamp vlad x le comte #ikevamp comte de saint germain #ikevamp le comte #ikevamp leonardo #Ikevamp leonardo x le comte #ikevamp fanfic

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mcofthemansion · 4 months

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Just a thing about our men! Always liked the song "Beautiful in White" but never really made a thing about it before and just wanted to edit our men in a lil' thingy with the song! Sorry that some images got grainy ;-; I never do this kind of stuff and I couldn't find the images I wanted of each guy...so apologies about some of them...

Hope you'll all enjoy!!! Huggies!!! Have a lovely day today!!! Here is your lovely wedding bouquet 💐 now go marry your man or men plural! XD

Tagging @yanderepuck @xxsycamore / @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @scummy-writes @oigimi @venulus @maries-gallery @violettduchess @lokis-laugh @spoopy-fish-writes anyone in the ikevamp community really!

Love you!!! Hugs!!!

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xxsycamore · 1 year

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—𝘈 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘺

► SYNOPSIS:

Comte finds you curled up on the couch, fighting some persistent period cramps. Naturally, he takes it upon himself to help you relieve the pain in all ways he can think of.

If only he knew what you truly need is simply... him.

▍comte x reader ▍rating: G ▍tags: Menstruation; period cramps; Fluff ▍wordcount: 1,009

▍masterlist

▍a/n: Last month's self-indulgent period cramps comfort fic with Napo was really well received, so this month I decided it would be just as nice to write one with Comte, for both me and you!

Note: The beginning is copied directly from that fic in question!

I hope you enjoy <3

It's another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than half-way done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appearing as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look to the grandfather clock. You've been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte's highly intriguing antiques couldn't get you late on your own schedule.

You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won't be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

Uh-oh! The pain doesn't go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

"Help" You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

With today's newspaper folded under his arm, Comte enters the lounge room. It's not unusual for him to finish reading what he couldn't at breakfast here, or in the garden, or back in his room. It just so happens that he comes in here exactly on time to find you like this.

"Ma chérie, are you alright?" He's at your side in the next second, worry playing on his face. You've barely managed to sit upright and smile nonchalantly, anything to swipe your apparent slacking-off under the rug, but he's fast at putting a hand on your shoulder. The touch makes your arm jolt a little but not in a bad way…

"Lay down, now. Tell me how you're feeling."

He's really good at reading your body language, alas you're over with pretending that nothing's wrong.

"I, uh… I'm having some menstrual pains. I just need a minute or two and I'll be back to work."

He nods, perfectly understanding the situation and glad that it's that and not something more worrisome. Giving you a reassuring smile that is warmer than the sun in the peak of summer, he moves to take your shoes off, a clear sign of his intentions to make you rest a little longer.

"Nonsense, you need a break. I'll tell Sebastian that you're having the rest of the day off.

"But that would be-" Before you can voice out your concern about the poor butler taking in more work than all that he already has to do, your face heats up. Having your shoes taken off for you by none other than the master of the house himself is very, very embarrassing, but reaching out to do it yourself is ensured to end with another gentle push to lay down. You simply stay put, hoping that this is the end of his caring-but-dangerous-for-your-heart acts…

"Do you want me to give you a massage?"

"No!!", you nearly shout, the mere image of him giving your feet a rub getting you to overheat with embarrassment, so you're sure you won't be alive to see the rest of it. "I mean, there really is no need! I'm afraid I'm too ticklish for that."

"I see. Well, then, excuse me for a second." He's so, so understanding and kind; for a second you grieve about the lost opportunity to see his massaging techniques put into action but you value your life too much for that. Just as you sign in relief, Comte enters anew, with a small tray of painkillers and tea - your favorite blend, your nose immediately informs you.

"Why thank you, Comte! You shouldn't have!" Sitting up on the couch, you anticipate having a sip of the warm liquid. As soon as you take it in your hands, your eyelids fall closed in bliss, and you miss the moment Comte drags the nearby ottoman closer in front of you.

"Put your legs up to rest here while you're drinking, it would be better."

"Thank you!" With a cup to hide half your shy expression behind, you oblige. It does feel better.

"Would you like me to put a pillow on top of it, as well?"

"Ah, no, no need, but thank you!"

"Then, another one behind your back?"

"No, that's alright! Thank you."

"Should I have a hot bath run for you? Or would you rather I bring you your heat patch instead?"

"C-Comte…"

Having already crossed the room towards the door awaiting to hear your decision, your voice calling him is the one thing that has him returning to your side. His brows are slightly raised in that innocent way you're preciously familiar with, features remaining elegant and deeply caring, and beautiful.

"Yes, ma chérie? Can I help you with something else?"

"There is one thing, but please, forget about the rest! It's really alright, just-"

You look up at him, fighting the guilt of posing a request even though the cramps already seem to have weakened - or maybe the man in front of you has distracted you successfully from them.

"…Stay by my side for a little bit?"

Comte's golden eyes widen in surprise, but he surely heard you right, albeit in that quiet voice. He smiles, eager to comply with your wish.

"Of course, my dear."

He sits down right next to you, and it comes so naturally to you to nest yourself against his arm. Heart racing or not, you indulge in the rare moment, able to tell that Comte indulges in it, too. Hopefully, he would understand that sometimes the right remedy is the most simple one there is.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @salty-fed-up-bitch @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @tiny-wooden-robot @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @cilokgoang @atelieredux

#Ikemen Vampire #IkeVamp #ikevam #IkeVamp Comte #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikemen vampire saint germain #ikevamp comte de saint germain #ikemen vampire comte de saint germain #ikevamp fluff #ikemen vampire fluff #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikeseries #ikevampire #cybird

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scarlet-salvias · 1 year

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Ikevamp Christmas is getting hotter once again🔥🔥

(P.S. Vlad... That's my seat 🙄 //😂)

LEONARDO IS BLAZING HOT THAN USUAL I CAN'T LOOK AWAY. 😍😍

Preview of the Premium Ends from ikevamp jp twt 🥰

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikevamp comte de saint germain #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire Vlad #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp Christmas

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danis707 · 2 years

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Lolololol

#screenshot #ikemen vampire #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp jean #ikevamp comte de saint germain #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp napoleon

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namine-somebodies-nobody · 10 months

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Together as one epilogue photos

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp event #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp arthur conan doyle #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp isaac newton #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp leonardo da vinci #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp vincent van gogh #ikevamp comte #ikevamp comte de saint germain

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lorei-writes · 1 year

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Bookmarked; Enchanted

Comte de Saint-Germain x MC (Mitsuki) Fantasy AU Fluff

Dear @iphigeniainaulis, this work was inspired by you, so... I'd love it if you accepted is as a humble gift. It may be a bit out of season, though, haha -- it fermented in my head for well over a month at this point. I hope you don't mind, though, and will enjoy the story all the same. <3

I hoped to post it as soon as possible, so... I am now hoping I didn't leave in any errors. If I did, do forgive me.

Content Warnings: none

A paragraph, and later a part of a story, needs to start with a word – and yet, dear reader, the tale that I’m about to tell you, starts with a bookmark. So, sit down. Make yourself comfortable… Allow me to present you with the story of the Count and one of his many lovers. Although, perhaps, all of them were merely an iteration of her.

Allow me to present you with the story of the Count and one of his many lovers. Although, perhaps, all of them were merely an iteration of her.

***

The Count is a wise man, much unlike what his appearance may suggest. His face is youthful, sharp features shying away only from his dazzling smile. His golden hair is notorious for falling into his eyes – and so, most conclude he is simply a youngster at heart, a person immature enough to select for impressiveness rather than practicality of a style. Only few, the ones close to him, seem to realise: those strands are merely a curtain, a disguise, a diversion to keep people from actually looking into his eyes. Outsiders must not see. They must not witness even a glimpse of years preserved within those honey irises.

The Count is a wise man, for he has woken up many a day. There are few paths he has not walked, and by the time he parts with this world, there very well may remain none; some even dare say he is the Abel, the one who has slain his brother, Cain. However, be that as it may, they do not share much past the name itself – the Count, for one thing, is more interested in books than in envious bloodshed. Books… Or bookmarks. A bookmark, the bookmark, to be precise. The only treasure dear to his heart.

Should you ask the Count to give away his riches, to spoil you rotten and shower you in gems, he would not object. In fact, he may even go as far as to dress you in silk gowns, place orders in your name for the finest damask, to have your corsets be embroidered with gold and silver threads — but his bookmark, that you cannot and will not possess. Why should you care for a plain piece of paper either way? It is barely a leaflet compared to his library, a scribble in the presence of his gallery. No wonder he hides it, as it does not invoke pride; the fields painted over it have long faded, red poppies turning orange, blue skies becoming nearly white. To display it publicly would be a grave slight.

The bookmark, however, is his treasure for a reason, and even if it tore or turned to ash, the Count would have it with himself at all times. After all, only it can open the door he longs to find.

His search is not an easy one. It begins at the early hours of the dawn, with servants unsealing the library door. Abel is barely dressed, buttoning up his shirt with trembling hands, concerned eyes stealing glances at him from everywhere. His hair is in a state of utter disarray, and although it is an unusual state for him to be found in, it is hardly unexplainable as well – was he not hunting till late yesterday? Then, again… Can one call reading a hunt, that much is up for a debate.

Abel opens a book.

And he reads.

And he reads…

He reads without a breath, even as his eyes tire, as letters blurr – he reads, he reads quietly and aloud, he walks with a book, he circles a table, he sits on the table, he opens the curtains and draws them shut, never once setting the volume down. He cannot. Such is his hunt, merciless and ruthless, although without any blood. Abel, however, is a patient man, and none of this is a sacrifice he couldn’t bear. As such, he devours book after book, his canines being oddly resemblant of fangs while he waits for the sign, for letters to shine… And when they do, he wastes no time. He puts his bookmark down.

The air is knocked out of his lungs. Water engulfs him, his clothes weigh him down – and yet, Abel is overjoyed, even as he drowns. He pushes with his arms, he kicks his legs, the element raiging, fighting against all of his attempts. He cannot lose in that moment, though, his own happiness alone having him believe that were he to die, he’d be reborn. He is too close —

The surface of the river breaks. Abel is no more a Count. He has little more to his name than the shirt on his back, but he still laughs. A wreath floats into his arms, the flame carried over it lighting up the night. What of his riches? There, in his hands, there is a pass to his world; there he swims, in liquid silver and gold. Water and fire – he has b o t h.

Abel, usually, is a wise man, but tonight he rushes. He gets to the shore, he runs upstream. He cannot wait, and clearly, neither can she. She, she, she, his one and only, the sole reason he hunts, his Mitsuki. She runs, her skirt in her hands, bare feet springing off grass and dirt. She needs not see the wreath to know its hers – and he needs not show it, luckily, as it has already lost itself. All that matters is her, her who throws herself at him, who he can hold again.

Her hair smells of herbs as they tumble into shallows. Her lips taste of water, of warm summer days. Abel hums, his voice resonating with hers. He wishes not to wait, yet they still have a story to tell – so he takes her hand, their foreheads touching as they part to sip on air.

“The night has just begun,” she says, her voice a skimming pebble.

“It has,” Abel agrees, even if against himself.

The night is still young, but so is the story – so they rush through the plot as they leap above fires, as they dance and share in songs. They hurry, for how couldn’t they when they know what is the stopping point?

Flames raise over each hill; Abel looks at her, surprised by the late-time chill. His gaze slides over her shoulder, down to the still wet end of her braid, soft light gently embracing her body at each curve. As if instinctively, he reaches to hold her hand — Abel leans down, his breath tickling the nape of her neck.

“We should begin our search,” he whispers into her ear.

“The search…” She turns away, to hide the blush colouring her face. “For the flower?”

“Indeed, ma cherie. Just as it was said…”

Be that as it may, ferns don’t bloom. Abel is aware.

The forest is dark, much unlike plains and hills. The forest is foreign, its residents being rather unwelcoming – animals, spirits, and souls of the dead, all seem to be lying in wait… However, little do they know, Abel could also be of this place. His arm over her shoulders, he leads her through bushes, guides branches away from her hair, careful to look after each of her steps. He is attentive, yet the further they go, the fewer people remain around, their search turning into a private one. His fangs come out.

Her back presses against the tree trunk, fern flower long forgotten – and she tastes sweet, so maddeningly sweet that he wonders whether it is not her who is the mythical bloom in question. His tongue pushes into her mouth, her fingers clawing into the shirt over his back. Her lip is pricked, it lets out a drop of blood —

Abel usually is a wise man, but when it comes to her, his reason dims.

They part, but he is hardly satisfied. If he could, he’d shower her in gold, he’d dress her in silk gowns, he’d order the finest wares before she’d even ask. But in this world? He is not a count… So the rain of his kisses, the warmth of his body, the confines of his arms, all combined, they have to suffice. He laps at her pulse, he nibbles on her skin…

“Abel,” she gasps, having him tremble from within. “Not here. Somebody will hear.”

“We’re too far away, ma cherie…” Should he allow his feast to disappear?

Hunter by day, prey by night.

She pulls at his hair, she seals his lips, steals his breath. Abel loses himself, and before he realises, they switch places… and roles as well, Mitsuki biting onto his neck. He grunts quietly, the bookmark in his pocket beginning to burn.

Abel puts his hands on her shoulders and cups her face. He runs his thumbs over her cheeks, maps the outline of her jaw and nose, just so that he can remember her well. They will meet again – there, or in another tale, perhaps on the moon where Twardowski takes his residence, below the hut standing on one leg, or deep within the mountain’s guts… Wherever. His bookmark will always lead him to her.

***

Mitsuki snaps her head to the side, the door to her room opening at once.

“Are you still reading? At this hour?” her mother hisses, a disapproving glance being cast at the book in her daughter’s lap. “Go to sleep!”

“Yes, mom, just –”

“Not a word more.”

“But I’m at the best part!” Mitsuki whines.

“I don’t care. Sleep. Now.”

The door closes, the light is shut. Defeated, Mitsuki places her bookmark down… Until they can meet again, through this or another tale. She too will hunt.

#comte de saint germain #ikevamp comte #ikevamp comte de saint germain #ikevam comte #ikevam comte de saint germain #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire comte de saint germain #ikevamp #ikevam #ikemen vampire

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