#Hehehe is a new birthday bash afoot?

[nad-zeta]

Mitsuhide- The Blind Date

Fandom: Ikesen

Pairings: Mitsuhide x Reader

Genre: Modern Au

Warning: Alcohol

Words: 1800+

Comments: Eeeeep, guess what time it is???? Whooop Whooop! //dances around ❤❤❤😳🥺🥺😳❤🌈 This week gonna be funnnnn!

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How in the high heavens did Mitsuhide allow this to happen. Had he truly lost his mind—gone entirely insane— or perhaps he had been drugged, yes, for there was no other logical explanation as to why on earth he would humour his friends so.

Sitting on the high stool at the bar, he checked his phone, 8:53— he would give her seven more minutes and then he was going to yeet out— that way, at least he could tell the other that he ‘tried’. After all, that was all he promised his friends— that he would show up—nothing more, nothing less.

Tracing his finger along the rim of the whiskey glass, Mitsuhide contemplated the events that transpired leading to this rather unfortunate present day.

All his friends were either dating or married—tragic really—and for some or other reason, they felt the need to pry into his personal life. “Don’t you want to share your life with someone,” the mother of the group started, which inevitably only caused the rest of the group to latch onto the idea and turn the once serious board meeting into a game of matchmaking. It certainly didn’t help that he agreed to a blind date willingly— well semi willingly, anything to get them off his back— adding a condition of his own, that the mouse would have to agree to it from her side without intervention from theirs.

He was confident she would refuse, from the words of friends, she certainly sounded like someone of likewise thinking— a fellow workaholic with no time for dating. But she — to his great surprise— accepted.

It made no sense to him. What made even less sense was why his friends thought the two would click, as personalities and hobbies certainly didn't seem to gell well— at least not in his mind.

Not that any of that mattered as time was ticking away, and she had one more minute to show up before he would call it a night.

A myriad of texts illuminated his phone, and Mitsuhide could only release a dejected sigh from the latest of messages plaguing the group chat. “Be nice and behave yourself,” the mother hen had said.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” came the instigation from Masamune, followed by an array of winking faces and smirk emojis. Now you can only imagine the chaos that unleashed upon the group chat with each member laying their own little egg and nugget of wisdom.

“M-Mitsu?” a soft unsure voice spoke up from beside him, tapping him gently on the shoulder.

Switching his phone off, he plastered a snek-like smile across his features before turning his sharp eyes onto the unfortunate little victim of his company.

“My, you must be the little mouse I’ve heard so much about," came the sly words from his mouth as he gestured for you to take a seat beside him.

With a slight smile shot his way, you took up residence on the tall barstool, “In the flesh,” came your cheeky voice as you shrugged off your jacket and placed both elbows on the table to rest your chin upon your hands.

“And you must be the detective?” you quipped back.

Mitsuhide smiled at that, eyes taking on a mischievous glint as he leaned in closer to drop his voice to a dangerous whisper, “of sorts,” he quickly looked behind him — to add to the suspicion— before returning his attention to you, “and you, my dear, have unfortunately been set up and caught in the foxes trap.”

He kept your gaze in all seriousness.

He was sure you had heard the rumours of his interrogation methods, being no secret at all in the little town you occupied, people, unfortunately, liked to gossip — and whether the rumours of his wicked ways of getting information out of suspects had been spread intentionally or not, people tend to move with caution around him. It was, unfortunately, the nature of his job, and as such, led him down this long lonely road.

You narrowed your eyes at the man, silence befalling the pair of you as you held his gaze before responding in an equally intimidating voice, “have you now, or is it you who has been caught in my trap.”

After another pause, you threw your head back in a burst of laughter without a care in the world. 'He seems fun,' you thought, shooting a wink in the direction of the bartender in thanks for the whiskey on the rocks. You picked up the crystal glass and swirled the liquid around before taking a long sip. It had been a long day, so much so that you almost wanted to stand the poor man up, yet you came anyway, if only for a stiff drink to ease the tension of the day.

“So, Mr fox detective, sir, what’s wrong with you that your friends felt the need to set you up on a blind date, and with me of all people! Do they hate you or something?" you asked, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.

In the dimly lit bar, you gave Mitsuhide a quick once over— he was handsome, in a dangerous, mysterious kind of way. He reminded you of a creature of myths— a kitsune— with his white hair and golden eyes accompanied by that razor-sharp smile. Perhaps that is why the rumours surrounding him were all so believable to the simpletons of the town who had nothing better to do than gossip— cause heaven forbid they do actual work for a change. Relatively speaking, you had not paid the gossip much mind. Instead, you were in the business of judging a book for yourself and not by what others rated it as.

“I could ask the same of you, little one?” he returned the question back to you, resting his chin on his hands.

“Well, to put it simply, my friends don’t know the difference between being alone and being lonely,” you said with a sigh, taking another sip of the drink in front of you.

Mitsuhide nodded in response, long fingers tracing over his glass thoughtfully with a hum of acknowledgement as you continued. “I knew if I refused to come tonight, they would just pester me until I agreed, so, in the name of some peace and quiet, here I am,” you ended off with a laugh and shake of the head.

Perhaps that was not entirely true; sometimes, you wondered what it would be like to find love— to have company to attend the various friend’s weddings with— after all, you were forever the bridesmaid and never the bride.

On the other hand, he knew the struggles of meddling friends all too well, and of course, the endless headache that accompanied the refusal of their ‘help’. He lifted his glass towards you, features softening as eyes crinkled at the seams in a semi genuine smile, “to meddlesome friends.”

You smiled brightly at that, clinking your glass with his as a comfortable silence befell the two of you—it looks like you had more in common than just your workaholic ways.

After a couple of minutes had passed, both your phones lit up at the same time, with an array of nosy friends asking about the ongoing date. And the two of you couldn’t help but burst into laughter and shake your heads in unison, “Unbelievable,” you spoke, taking another sip, an idea forming in your head to get them off your case for a little while longer.

Mitsuhide raised a curious brow at you as you silently lifted your phone, scrolling between the apps before landing on the camera. You shot him a mischievous smile before throwing your arm around his shoulder to pull him closer to you, “What do you think they would say if we sent a selfie,” you said, looking into the camera smiling brightly as finger spammed the little circle capturing a dozen or so photos before Mitsuhide even had time to rebuff. You never did mind creating a bit of chaos, and what better way to do so than, god forbid, you actually hit it off with the man.

“I wonder,” was all he said with a sly smile, and to your surprise, Mitsuhide actually smiled in a handful of the ones captured.

You quickly edited the picture, posting it onto the group with a cheeky caption; however, before locking your phone once more, something in the image caught your attention—a little sticker on Mitsuhide’s trench coat lapel. Your brows furrowed as you zoomed in to inspect it before they lifted to the man beside you, to see it in person. With a curious smile and finger pointed out to the little fox sticker, you couldn’t help but ask, “What’s with the little fox?”

“It’s a long story, my dear,” he said with an air of mystery, but you persisted, leaning closer to get a better look.

“Well, I have time,” the words fell from your mouth, followed by another round of drinks ordered.

“You truly wish to know, little one?” he replied with glowing eyes. And that was the beginning of the end.

The origin story of the fox sticker led to another, that, then led to another and then another. Until a fun game started between the two of you— a story for a story— each new tale accompanied by a new round of drinks ordered.

It was now your turn to tell yet another exciting story, this time about your childhood of all things, however, time had quickly slipped away, and before you knew it, your eyelids started to grow heavy with sleep, words coming out slower and slower until finally your head fell and landed on Mistuhised shoulder.

“My, my little one, you should not let your guard down so easily with a man like me,” the tender words were spoken; it was one of those rare occasions Mitsihide dropped his foxlike mask and wore a genuine smile.

He looked over to see you sound asleep, and it seemed that his fingers moved to their own accord, reaching up to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingertips. After a moment or two, he shrugged off his trench coat and draped it over your shoulders to keep you warm and protected from the cold night’s chill.

“Come along, little mouse; I believe it is time for sleepy mice to go to bed.”

He then proceeded to gently hook his arm around your legs and waist, picking you up bridal style and cradling you to his chest.

“You truly are a troublesome little one, whatever shall I do with you,” he spoke fondly as he carefully loaded you into the passenger seat of his car before securing the seatbelt around you, while you, completely unstirred, remained fast asleep.

You awoke the next day in your own bed, splitting headache nagging at your temples as unfocused gaze locked onto a glass of water and aspirin left by your bedside. Sitting up, you wasted no time taking the hangover cure, memories of the previous night flooding your head.

“Shit shit shit shit,” you curse under your breath, throwing yourself back and covering your head with a pillow— how very uncool of you to just pass out in front of a stranger like that, never mind how unsafe.

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table beside you, cutting your groans of embarrassment and cringe short, replacing it instead with a broad smile upon reading the text from your mysterious date.

#akechi mitsuhide #ikemen mitsuhide #mitsuhide fanfic #mitsuhide #mitsuhide x reader #ikesen akechi mitsuhide #Hehehe is a new birthday bash afoot? #i wonder?

[nad-zeta]

Game Night

Fandom: Ikevamp

Pairings: Arthot x Reader

Genre: Fluffffff plus mentions of Alcohol

Words: 1500+

Comments: Eeeeep and the birthday bash week continues! Hehehe I wonder who this is for hehehe ❤❤ ❤😳🥺Zeta can be sneaky tooo! 🥺😳❤🌈

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“Yahtzee!”

“Nooo! Wait! How! Gaah, next game!” you exclaimed from the leather seat opposite Arthur, sending him a death glare with crossed over arms.

“Not had enough yet, Luv? My, how you must enjoy defeat so,” the cocky words were spoken belonging to the British author who now wore a wide triumphant smile at yet another victory claimed.

Ooh, you wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk right from his face; the only problem was Arthur Conan Doyle was a master at all games and puzzle alike— and you had absolutely no chance at winning. No matter the challenge, he would rise to the occasion and steal victory from right from beneath your nose— even if you were the goddess of luck herself, you doubted you would be able to secure victory.

“I’ll show you defeat,” you sneered, taking a sip of your whiskey mix and watching him set up the next board with hawk eyes. He must be cheating? Right? There was simply no other explanation as to how this man would be able to win at games he had never even heard of before, much less played.

Or perhaps he— “it is not luck. I assure you, my darling bird,” his blue eyes lifted to meet yours, cunning smile on his lips, cutting your thoughts short.

How did he do that? You glared at the man wearing a mix of shock and horror. Infuriating, you thought, especially when he all so amusingly seemed to chuckle at the expressions you made. “Would you believe me if I said it was magic,” he asked with enthusiasm, leaning forward with bright eyes.

Again he seemed to read your mind, answering your inner thoughts out loud. You narrowed your eyes at him apprehensively; you knew vampires existed, yes? But magic? There was no way. “Prove it,’ the words left your mouth as you found that despite the side-eye delt, you inched closer in curiosity.

“Abracadabra,” Arthur spoke the familiar words of an old friend and produced a small box from his sleeve.

“That’s not magic, you big ol cheat! That’s just a trick!” you huffed, rolling your eyes at him— but mostly at yourself for almost believing such a thing to be possible.

“Poppycock! It’s not just a trick! It’s magic! After all, how else would you explain the appearance of this magical box out of thin air,” he hummed, holding the dainty blue velvet box out towards you. With another roll of the eyes, you reached out to take the box from his hands.

“Most definitely not with science, that’s for sure,” you spoke with hints of sarcasm behind your teasing grin, fingers pulling at the ribbon atop the box. You carefully opened the lid, not entirely sure what to expect— after all, it would not be the first time you had opened a gift from the man only for it to be some or other good-natured jest.

You held the box away from you, opening it cautiously while closing one eye, the other eye barely peeking open to a squint to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents carefully.

You half expected a flurry of glitter to shoot out from the inside and puff straight into your face— you know, as a way to prove fairies existed or whatnot.

Arthur sat back in his chair with crossed legs and a fond smirk over his lips, “I do hope you like it Luv, the fairies worked awfully hard to construct it,” he quipped with a snort, only adding to your suspicion.

Finally, you opened the lid to reveal two pairs of dazzling red dice, shimmering gently, as the light from the fireplace reflected off the smooth crystal surface. You had to smile— of course, Arthur would cutely attribute the glitter within to the magical pixie dust of the fairies he loved so much.

“Now that I have passed on some of my wizard powers, highest roll starts,” he spoke, getting back into the game mode as he placed on his polka dot glasses while sending you a flirty wink.

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his folded hands, waiting for you to roll the dice; only instead of rolling your new set of crimson, you mimicked his movements. No way you were going to roll first, for all you knew, these dice might be just as cursed as the previous ones.

“After you,” you spoke, sliding your new dice towards the man.

His blue eyes met yours challengingly as he picked up the dice, giving them a gentle shake in a mock roll before placing them before you once more, “ladies first’ he winked with a smug smile.

Ah, if he thought you were going to back down from the mental challenge so soon, he was sorely mistaken. You fixed him with a determined glare of your own, “Age before beauty, I insist,” you said with a wicked smile, once more pushing the dice towards him.

He rose to the challenge, letting go of an amused snort, not making any effort to move, as blue eyes met yours with a lifted chin, “Beauty before the beast,” he spoke full of confidence. No matter the game, or challenge, Arthur never liked to be bested. Be it by his friends, family or lover, losing was not an option.

“Men before hens,” you spoke again smugly, crossing your arms, leaving the dice right where they were on his side of the table. “I could do this allllll night long, dearie, so you best hurry up and roll,” you added for good measure.

With a chuckle and shake of the head, Arthur relented, swiping the dice of the table and shaking them in his hands, “very well hen, since it’s your birthday, I suppose I shall back down just this once.”

He blew on the dice, a good luck ritual of sorts, before throwing them down on the table.

The game was now afoot!

You could tell by the glimmer in his eyes he was already planning, strategising, plotting, if you will. Was this his plan all along, to go first? You shook the thought from your head, focusing your attention on the snakes and ladders board. You needed to keep your wits about you if you wanted to win this game. 50% luck, 20% skill and 30% pure divine intervention— thus, you started to pray. The stakes were high, and the reward even higher.

“Twelve,” you practically squealed out in excitement at the outcome of the first roll, looks like the prayer worked, now to keep up the momentum. Taking a swig of your drink, it was finally your turn to roll the dice.

Somewhere between the smack talk and fun, you and Arthur had upped the stakes, adding a rule to include a shot taken for each snake you were to descend down. Needless to say, you had lost count of the number of shots that had passed your lips as you were very much past well-toasted at this point.

Dimming and brightening, you struggled to keep your eyes open, determined to finish—determined to win.

“Yes! Take that, Arty, down the snake you go! Ha! Drink up sunshine,” you chanted, filling Arthur’s glass to the rim with gin while getting up to do a little premature victory dance. However, your victory celebration seemed to end all too soon, with the next roll sending your straight down the very same snake.

”For Fudge sake!” you yelled, throwing yourself back into the chair— the image of yourself flipping the table in frustration playing in your mind’s eye— bringing a smile to your lips as you took another sip.

The night continued on.

It wasn’t before long Arthur was officially declared the winner— albeit he had to announce himself the winner as you were now ‘resting your eyes’ busy fighting yet another losing battle.

“Ah, I believe I win, now for my prize,” he sang out, downing the remnants of his glass and towering over your resting form.

“You ought to be more careful, Luv. What if I were to pounce on you, honestly, bird? What am I going to do with you.”

He crouched down, sitting on his heels as he slowly reached out to gently pull his fingers through your silken hair. Suddenly you shifted, falling forward—forehead landing on his shoulder, you murmured a little, snuggling closer to his warmth before breaths softly evened out once more. “You really are quite a troublesome drunk, aren’t you, dove, “he cooed, hand moving from your hair to tenderly stroke your cheek.

In one swift motion, Arthur picked you up, “upsy daisy, there we are, now off to bed with you, my darling.” You shifted again in his arms, nose nuzzling further into the cook of his neck. He smiled down at you, blue eyes filled with nothing but pure love and affection, before carrying you off to bed.

He gently laid you down, tucking you beneath the sheets before dropping one final adoring kiss on your forehead. “Happy birthday, my darling bird,” was all he spoke in a soft whisper before extinguishing the light and tucking you in his arms, drifting off into a blissful sleep of his own.

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#arthur conan doyle ikevamp #arthur conan doyle #arthur ikevamp #arthur ikevam #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #arthur x reader #Birthday Bash