#IkeVamp fanfiction

[candied-boys]

If you like Le Comte and sexy times and you have yet to read "It Started with a Dream" on ao3, please go indulge in this top tier masterpiece.

#ikemen vampire comte #ikevamp comte #le comte de saint germain #ikevamp #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevamp smut #smut

[maries-gallery]

Hello! I can’t believe the rude anon the other day!! :( some people are so rude!! But the weekend event is exciting! if you’re still taking requests, would you write quality time with Leonardo? I feel like quality time with him would be so relaxing! Painting or reading together, or one of the other million things Leo can do! Even just napping together would be so nice and chill. Thank you for hosting events like these! They’re always so fun <3

love languages weekend event

Hi anon! Thanks for the sweet thought <3 Am fine though so no worries, it takes more than that to bring me down!

Honestly I was so excited to see an ikevamp request for this event because it's been a hot minute since I last wrote anything for this :,) So when I saw both Theo and Leo stand in my inbox I was so happy to deliver!

Leonardo is indeed huge on quality time! And thank you so much for sending in a request <3

genre: fluff

warnings: none

As a pure blooded vampire, Leonardo is aware of how precious time is. Not to him, he has plenty of it. But human life is fleeting, in comparison to the thousand years he’s lived and still has ahead of him. So every tick of his wrist watch reminds him of how little time he has with you. Of how little time he has with you in the grand scheme of things. 

A big part of him tries to forget about this, the idea of a life without you, something he cannot fathom, something he does not want to imagine. For the moment he does his heart plummets down to his stomach and his lungs press to his throat. 

And he knows that dwelling on this wouldn’t do either of you any good. For there is no use in wishing time could stop when time has no other master but itself. 

So Leonardo settles for enjoying every day, every hour, every minute and every second he gets to spend by your side. 

It does not matter what you are doing, as long as he is by your side, as long as he can see your smile and hear your voice, his world lives through your eyes. 

Sometimes you just sit together in his room or in the library, book in hand and Lumière on your lap, Leonardo’s head resting on your shoulder as you read to him. He doesn’t care about the genre, anything suits him as long as you are the one reading. 

“A fairy tale book, Cara Mia?” He says, inspecting the title and summary of the book you had just retrieved from one of the many shelves in Comte’s mansion’s library. 

“Yes, I often read this book as a kid!” You beam at him, a bright smile that fills his chest with warmth. 

“Okay then, let us begin.” 

And the two of you sit together, Leonardo’s attention swinging between the expressions on your features and the story. 

Sometimes it is him teaching you one of his many skills. Varying from painting, to chess, to repairing things to fabricking new things out of scratch. 

“Gosh I can’t do this!” Your hands fall at your side, shoulders sagging as you stare disapprovingly at the broken watch in front of you. 

Leonardo allows himself a chuckle, gently looping his arms around you from behind and scooping the broken mechanism in his hands, “Now, now, now. No need to get frustrated, Cara. Look.” 

And he doesn’t care how much time it takes for you to understand or get the hang of it, simply happy to share his knowledge with you and watch you acquire new skills by his side. 

“See? Was it worth giving me that pout?” 

Leonardo is all for partaking in your hobbies too, whatever they may be. Even if he is not good at it. If just for a sight of your smile. 

“Santo Cielo, what have I done to deserve such a beautiful smile?”

And sometimes it is just him following you into the streets of Paris to run errands when his time table allows it, which is pretty often. The two of you aren’t doing anything special per se, simply enjoying one another’s presence as you do what you have to do and carry on with your day. 

“Let me carry this for you, Cara Mia.” Leonardo’s hands cover your own as he fetches the bag from your hands, “Now where do we need to go next?” 

taglist: @aquagirl1978 @randonauticrap @poisonpeche (our daddy is back baby)

send me a text or ask if you'd like to be added &lt;3

#ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire fluff #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikevamp #ikevamp fluff #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen series #ikemen cybird #ikemen fanfic #ikemen leonardo

[alby-rei]

The Shy & Clumsy Physicist (IkeVamp; Isaac Newton)

a/n: I haven’t opened the ikevamp app in months, and when I did revisit it the other day, I was hit with nostalgia from the music alone. Decided to tackle an old wip from a retrospective angle, thinking of doing the same to the rest of the bunch. Thus, I present to you a piece of my Memories of the Mansion, talking to Isaac Newton for the first time. 

[Characters]: You & Isaac (ft. Napoleon)

[Word count]: ~1000 words

[Notes]: Pre-relationship, first meetings, can be read as platonic, gender-neutral reader

~*~

In a mansion full of accomplished and renowned historical figures, Isaac Newton was no slouch. If anything, he was among the most dedicated to continuing his previous life's work. He could work for hours on a single contraption without a care for the outside world, never losing patience and or focus. And yet, whenever you walked into the room he was working in or made your presence known to the hard-working scientist, something in him would switch.

He'd stumble on his words and bump his elbow or knee against the nearest furniture. It's like he'd lost all sense of spatial awareness, and his vision tunneled in on you and every shift of your facial expression.

Isaac's demeanor was endearing, to say the least. You may even call it cute. But the longer it persisted, the more you worried about him. He could seriously injure himself soon, if he hasn't already.

One time, you greeted him in the hall on your way to the kitchen as he came down the stairs from the second floor. His foot missed a step and nearly sent him tumbling down if it weren't for Napoleon's quick reflexes pulling his arm back to straighten him.

"You've been spacing out a lot lately, something on your mind?" Napoleon asked.

"No, no. I'm quite alright." You were already gone behind the swinging kitchen door when he looked back.

"I see. It is not something, but someone that is on your mind, hm?" Napoleon nudged.

Isaac whipped his head around. "How did you know?"

"You just told me, with your eyes." Napoleon tilted his head in the same direction as Isaac's gaze a second ago. He smirked. "And your reaction confirmed it."

"Nothing escapes you it seems." Isaac sighed. "But it really is nothing. I just feel so nervous around them."

"The new helper? Why’s that?"

Before Isaac could elaborate on his dilemma, you emerged again from the kitchen, looking much relieved to be empty-handed.

"And how do you do, gentlemen?" You greeted cordially, imitating a guest at a ball.  

Napoleon played along, bowing in response. "All is well, et tu?"

"Much the same, thank you, Monsieur Bonaparte."

You shared a laugh, and Isaac looked between you two like you spoke some ancient tongue he was unaware of.

"Just 'Napoleon' will do, no need to be so formal."

"Right, still getting used to that," you said. You smiled at both of them. Isaac looked like he wanted to say something, but it remained caught in his throat. "I better get to my next task. Sebastian really isn't going easy on me, despite it being my second week! See ya!"

"Do let us know if you ever need help." Napoleon called out to your retreating figure.

"How did you do that?" Isaac asked.

"Do what?"

"Talk with them so...normally, casually."

"How to talk to MC?" Napoleon echoed. "Words are a good start."

"I'm serious!" Isaac's face warmed up, and his friend's laughter wasn't doing him any favors. "It's not that simple."

"But it is. Alright, how about this: talk about your day or your work. I'm sure they'd love to hear about it."

Isaac didn't understand the logic behind it. Would you really be willing to listen to him babble about equations and theories, that even he wasn't certain of yet? No, no. That won't do, he thought, shaking his head. Napoleon patted his shoulder and told him that you two will talk at some point, seeing as you'll be living in the same mansion for an undefined period of time.

Isaac thought it over when he returned to the library to continue his work. He even practiced some conversation starters on his pet hedgehog, Harry, when he fed him.

Later the same day, Isaac walked past the lounge on his way to get Rouge. From the corner of his eye, he spotted you in there, fiddling with a gramophone.

"Ah, that's—!"

"Wah!"

Isaac's outburst startled you, and you almost knocked the gramophone right off of its station. You held it in place while also holding your breath. Safe.

"I'm so sorry," Isaac said. "What were you doing with that?"

"Oh, this? I wanted to see if it played any music." You rubbed your arm sheepishly.

"I'm afraid it won't. I haven't fully reassembled it yet."

"Reassembled?" You echoed.

"I took it apart, yes. It's a hobby of mine, observing how it works and then putting it back together."

You looked at him stunned, and your silence worried him.

"W-what's wrong? Was it something I said?" Isaac’s shoulders tensed.

"I don't think...I've ever heard you talk so much before." You covered your mouth. "Oh no, that was rude. I meant, we haven't gotten a chance to really talk, you know..." You trailed.

"Q-quite right. Well, be sure, I'll have that gramophone fixed in no time," he said.

"Could I watch you while you do that?"

"Pardon?"

"Watch you work, I mean. If you're okay with it, of course."

Isaac wasn't used to having a willing audience. It made him nervous. He tugged at his hair in thought. What should he do? Napoleon's words came back to him. 'Words are a good start.' Yes, words! He passed that first obstacle. And he can do a little better than that. He left to get his tools from the library. When he returned, he found you with a tray of Rouge and sandwiches prepared.

"I'm no expert, but I believe it's not proper to work on an empty stomach," you said.

For the first time since you arrived at the mansion, Isaac smiled. It was a good look on him, you mused, gave him a boyish innocence.

The two of you sat on the floor, and Isaac went into focus-mode. He didn't mind your questions and even talked through his process with you. He sounded more confident, excited even. You helped organize his tools for him as he switched between them. As you looked at him working animatedly, you thought to yourself, he wasn’t so intimidating after all. He’s an introvert, like any other from your time period. But he was also brilliant, the way he carefully handled the project in front of him spoke of his meticulous nature. You looked forward to learning more about him.

Silently standing at the doorway was none other than Isaac’s friend and confidant smiling at the sight before him. Napoleon knew his friend had it in him, he just needed a little nudge in the right direction.

~*~

Back to Masterlist

#it's been a while! #happy to post again hehe #alby one-shots #memories of the mansion #ikevamp writing #ikevamp isaac #ikemen vampire isaac newton #isaac x reader #isaac x mc #isaac x you #pre-relationship #platonic #fluff #ikevamp fanfiction

[leonscape]

"Writer's Block"

Pairing: Reader (2nd person) x Le Comte Warning! This fic contains suggestive/NSFW themes. Reader is a romance author. Established relationship with Comte. Note: This is my first time writing for Ikemen Vampire, my first time writing Comte, my first time writing in second person, and my first time writing something on the spicier side I am very scared to post this!

Word Count: 1342

Without realizing it, you let out your hundredth sigh of the day as you hung the sheets to dry. Sebastian suggested taking a break from writing to allow your mind to refresh itself, but you couldn’t just do nothing. Doing chores around the mansion was relaxing compared to sitting at your desk, hunched over, and having a mental breakdown because you can’t figure out the right words to describe a scene you’ve been stuck on. And it wasn’t like you can press backspace and everything would be erased like nothing happened. Piles of crumpled papers littered the desk and spilled onto the floor.

Another sigh escaped your lips as you hung the last sheet. Standing back to take a look at your work, you weren’t prepared for Arthur’s sudden appearance from behind. 

“What’s with that frown?” Arthur asked. 

“Arthur!?” you blurted. 

“I was on my way to get some coffee but I saw you standing out here,” Arthur said. 

“Oh, I see. Well, let me brew you a fresh pot of coffee.” Arthur followed you back inside and you prepared some coffee. 

“You still haven’t answered my question.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “Is there something bothering you? Is it Comte? You know you can always come to me if you ever need a shoulder.” 

“No thanks. And no, it’s not that. It’s writer’s block,” you told him. 

“Why didn’t you say so earlier? As a fellow writer, we should help each other through these things!” Arthur’s smile was bright and mischievous. “Do you want to know how I overcome writer’s block?” 

“Uh… sure,” you agree, hoping that it’s actual advice and nothing stupid. 

“I usually enjoy the company of a pretty lady,” Arthur said. And it was something stupid…

You sighed deeply once more, “This is why I didn’t ask in the first place.”

“Well, it's better than what Dazai does. He just goes in and out of the windows more frequently. But you missed my point. You should do something that you enjoy doing. Go out, have some fun, and have new experiences,” Arthur explained. 

“It’s not like I don’t have any inspiration. I’m having trouble describing a certain scene and I’m not sure why. Nothing I write on paper makes sense or feels right,” you told him. 

Arthur seemed to be in deep thought but as soon as an idea popped into his head, he snapped his fingers and his face lit up. “Have you tried reading your sentences out loud?”

“Of course, that’s why I feel like they’re a bit off.” You frowned and Arthur mirrored your expression as he wracked his brain for more solutions. 

“Hmm… Maybe you should act it out? If you can put yourself in your character’s situation, then maybe you can have a better understanding of what’s happening and you’ll be able to write it better,” Arthur suggested. “All right, I’ll be your scene partner. So tell me about the scene.” 

You panicked as you stuttered an excuse, “It’s a complex scene and you need lots of context to really understand and I can’t explain it all right now. And besides, you write mysteries so I don’t think that you’d be able to act it out.” 

“Nonsense! I’m not a complete stranger to romance… Unless it’s a scene you can’t act out because you’re too embarrassed.” You didn’t give any response, but the blooming red hue on your face answered Arthur anyway. “Ah, so that must be it. I wonder what kind of naughty scene you’re writing.” 

Again, you didn’t say anything but that gave him all the information he needed to discern the truth. You ignored him and continued to brew the coffee, even though there wasn’t much to do except awkwardly stand there and watch the water filter its way through the coffee grounds. “Then why don’t you just ask your lover? I’m sure he wouldn’t have a problem doing dirty things to you so that you can write them down,” Arthur chuckled. 

“I can’t just ask him to do that,” you mumbled. 

“Sure you can, in fact you can ask him right now!” 

You whipped around to see Comte standing in the doorway with a gentle smile on his face. “Is something wrong, ma chérie?” 

“Comte! How long have you been standing there?” 

“Not long. I smelled coffee and I thought I’d ask for some before everyone else does,” he answered nonchalantly. 

Theo strolled into the room too announcing his intentions, “I smell coffee.” 

“It’s not for you, it was brewed for me,” Arthur told Theo. 

“Does it have your name on it? No? Then it’s for everyone.” Theo took more coffee just because Arthur was being stingy. Then he disappeared like he was never there. Comte politely held out a mug and you filled it with a generous amount. 

“This coffee was supposed to be for me,” Arthur sulked. 

“Does it have your name on it? No? Then it’s for everyone,” you repeated Theo’s words. “Besides, you could always brew more.” 

Arthur refused to brew it himself claiming, “You make the best coffee.” 

He frowned and Comte chuckled, “You’re a skilled coffee brewer, mon amour.” Arthur took his coffee to go, grateful for what he could receive. Comte lingered a bit longer, sipping his coffee while gazing at you. “Did you want to ask me something earlier?”

“Arthur and I were just talking and he was just teasing,” you replied.

Comte was not satisfied with your answer and he slid closer to you. “That’s not what I asked,” his voice dipped down into a seductive whisper. “You can ask me anything.”

“Arthur and I were just talking about writer’s block and he suggested I act out my scene so I have a better idea of how to write it,” you explained. 

Comte hummed, “So, tell me about this scene.”

“Well, the male and female lead spend an intimate night together when they reunite for the first time in years,” you told him.

“I see.” Comte smiles. “Would you like to act out the scene with me?”

“Are you saying you want to help me?” 

“Why wouldn’t I want to help you?” Comte closed the space between you two. “I’m at your command. Direct me in any way you need me and I’ll do my best to follow your instructions.” 

“Well, how about pinning me against the wall?” you asked him. 

Without question or a second thought, he pushed you up against the nearest wall. “Like this?” He was gentle and graceful with his movements and with the way he held you.

While it was enjoyable, it didn’t really capture the emotion of the scene. “It was good, but shouldn’t it be more… rough?”

He took a few steps back and you took a few steps forward. This time, he was a bit more rough and assertive. You were sandwiched in between the wall and his body while his hand hit the wall with a dull thud. An unexpected kabedon was a pleasant surprise, but it just didn’t feel right? “ I’ll just take this scene out because I’m not good enough to write that kind of scene,” another sigh escaped your lips. “Thanks for trying to help.”

You walked away from Comte feeling defeated. But he wasn’t about to let you go just yet. He grasped your wrist and pulled you back toward him and suddenly you were back against the wall. His frame eclipsed your own as his forearm leaned against the wall and his leg blocked your path. “You shouldn’t say that about yourself,” he whispered in your ear, “you’re an excellent writer. Don’t limit yourself, believe in yourself. You are enough and your skills are enough.” 

His smile is encouraging and his golden irises are burning with love and passion. “Thank you.” You smile back at him. 

“Now say it. Say you’re good enough to write this scene.”

“I’m good enough to write this scene,” you repeat. 

“Good, because when I’m done with you, you’ll have no problem writing the scene, ma chérie.”

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire comte #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevamp fanfiction

[spoopy-fish-writes]

—Kisses and giggles

Suitor(s): Arthur

TW: None

Genre: Fluff

Notes: Gender neutral MC || Even I couldn't help smiling and giggling while writing this help || A little thingmbob for @mcofthemansion to feed your very Arthur mood 😌💜

"Can I kiss you?"

Arthur looked down at you who was laying on his chest, eyes cast slightly off to the side and not looking at him while you spoke. It wasn't embarrassment nor shyness but simply the comfort of it being something that you had become used to asking that you no longer felt the need to make a big deal about it.

He moved one of his hands out from under his head and brushed it lightly on your head with a smile, none of his usual flirtatiousness or teasing in his words; just pure unabashed affection which twinkled in his eyes and showed itself in the warmth of his smile and the lines that formed at the corners of his eyes along side it. "Sure you can, luv. I'll rarely say no to you."

You match his smile and shuffle to be able to reach his lips. It's just a little peck but he still moves to sit up on the bench, moving you with him so that you were situated on his lap.

He can't help but move in for another, and another, and another, his smile so prominent on his lips that it almost hurts, giggles leaving your lips as well as his which you can feel against your skin as he begins to kiss at other parts of your face: cheeks, forehead, temple: none of your face goes unkissed and you have to push him away a little bit, your cheeks warm with how much you'd been laughing in between his kisses and you try and catch your breath while he does the same, a few airy giggles still leaving both of your lips every few moments before you both manage to level your breathing.

He gazes at you with eyes so so warm and bright, like sapphires, and you hope that your own expression shows the same level of adoration.

Tags: @a-chaotic-dumbass @otome-scribbles @laito---sakamaki @kaeyas-beloved @shad0cat @alby-rei @rurifangirl @daisiesandshakes @lucyw260 @simplycuriouscourage @namine-somebodies-nobody @shameshomalo @ikesenfangirl @your-local-ikemen-simp @wtf-0w0 @notapinklasagna @chaosangel767 @grumpybunny14 @fangirlinindia @obeyme4life @entidy13 @skatercashew @cilokgoang @roses-of-rosalie @character-design-who @ikesimp100 @kisara-16 @aceuuuuu @alureasoley

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#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp drabble #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen vampire drabble #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur

[lucyw260]

The Mailbox With The Pink Flower - Leonardo

I’ve had this idea since 2021 and finally wrote it out. This is set in the modern day but it isn’t an AU. It’s crazy to think that the guys could see MC in the modern day after already spending a lifetime with her but she’s still got her life with them ahead of her. I often think about stuff like this. Please read and tell me what you thought about it!

Words = 1.3k

Excerpt = He wasn’t necessarily here to look for her but if by a miracle he could chance upon her then he’d take that opportunity to see her again

The year was 20XX, it had been over 50 years since Y/n passed away and left Leonardo. He moved to Japan a few years ago to be closer to Y/n, he knew she had already been born into this world, a younger Y/n that hadn’t yet gone back in time. He wasn’t necessarily here to look for her but if by a miracle he could chance upon her then he’d take that opportunity to see her again.

It was a Wednesday afternoon; Leonardo had just exited a client’s house that had hired him to fix their grandfather clock. He’d been doing this same ‘renaissance man’ job for centuries but it still filled him with the same joy as it had the first time.

He walked the streets of the clean middle-class neighbourhood, now his final job of the day was done, he was intent on going back to the place he called home in this foreign country. Gazing up at the clear blue sky, he idly wondered how the others were doing back at the mansion.

A school bus pulled up on the opposite side of the road and broke his chain of thought, a few young children got off the bus and waved as it drove off. As Leonardo carried on walking, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps somewhere Y/n was also coming home from school.

His gaze drifted back towards the young children skipping down the road. The children were parting ways and only one was left walking on the street next to Leonardo.

To the world, a grown man staring at a young child would look very suspicious but Leonardo couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help but see his beloved Y/n in the honey-coloured locks cascading down the young girls back.

The girl was bouncing a ball as she walked with a smile on her face. It was such a familiar smile, Leonardo thought.

Suddenly the ball bounced off the curb and into the road towards Leonardo’s direction. The child giggled before stepping into the road to retrieve the ball.

Thank the lord that Leonardo was watching her so intently, else he might have been too late to notice the silver car speeding around the corner. The tires of the car squealed against the concrete at the sheer velocity of the vehicle. The girl turned in surprise in the middle of the road, she shrieked and her eyes went wide as the car got closer.

An urgency flared throughout Leonardo’s body and he was moving faster than any human could to pull the child towards him and away from the oncoming car. He bypassed the ball as it bounced harmlessly passed him.

The car whizzed by seemingly not caring about the speed limit. Leonardo looked down at the child that he was holding onto, he scanned her for injuries before letting her go.

Now they were safely on the street, he stepped back from the child and the girl burst into tears. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to scare the child more when she was still recovering from the shock. He offered her a gentle smile and her sobs turned into quiet sniffles.

He picked up the ball that was behind him and held it out to the young girl. She stared at him warily.

“I’m not going to hurt you; this is your ball, isn’t it?” he informed her kindly and the girl nodded her little head slightly. She held her hands out for the ball and he placed it in her palms gently.

Her expression calmed and she looked up at him. “T…thank you for saving me, mister”. The full force of her eyes hit him then, her eyes were so similar to the eyes of the woman he loved.

“No problem, you be careful on these roads from now on, cara mia” he spoke in a light scolding tone. It was only after he’d finished speaking, that he realized that he’d called the child ‘cara mia’, why did that slip out, he thought.

The little girl nodded at him with a wide smile and looked left and right before crossing the road. Leonardo watched her make it safely across the road. She turned back around and waved goodbye to him before skipping off further down the street.

He was a second too late waving back, she’d already turned around before she’d seen it, since when was I so slow, he thought.

It felt like his brain was trying to connect dots, his heart was beating faster than usual but he brushed it all off and continued on his way. Just before he turned the corner, he heard a distant voice.

“Did you have a good day at school, Y/n?”

Upon hearing that name, Leonardo spun around quickly and his eyes zeroed in on the same child he had just saved, she was at the front of a door step.

“Yes mommy, we learnt there are all sorts of languages in the world, it was so cool”

Leonardo’s heart was beating too fast now. His brain was trying to rationalize with his heart telling him it could just be an incredible coincidence that the child that reminded him so much of his cara mia was also called Y/n.

It was at this moment that Leonardo recalled a memory from his time with Y/n.

“Tell me something about your childhood” he had suggested to her

It was late at night; she was lying on his chest as he carded his fingers through her soft hair.

She pondered for a moment before speaking. “Ah, I thought of something, so when I was about 6 years old, my parents and I painted our mailbox, I painted a pink flower right in the middle and I was so proud of it, the last I saw of it, the paint was all faded and you could hardly see it”

At the time he had hummed at her story and imagined her as a child, laughing with her family with paint on her cheeks.

He snapped out of the memory with a start, his eyes scanning the garden for a mailbox, he wasn’t sure if he was hoping it really was her or not.

Then he saw it, right at the front of the fence, a white mailbox with a freshly painted pink flower in the middle. His breath caught as he stared at it with wide eyes. The girl had long entered her home and the door had long closed.

It was her; he was sure of this now. The young girl he just saved was his cara mia long before she met him. He stared at the house for a few more long minutes before prying his eyes off it and turning around.

It was hard to not turn back around but he continued down the street. He’d been in her life before they even knew each other.

He was never necessarily looking for her but now he’d found her all his morals dissipated and at this moment he knew that there was no doubt he wouldn’t end up walking down this street again one day.

Talking to her again though was out of the question, as much as he might want to. He didn’t want to accidently change history. He’s missed her so much for decades now and when she got older, he could love her in this time instead and get to be with her again but he wouldn’t, it would ruin everything they built together because if he did that then their time together in the 19th century never would have happened.

He'd walked far enough now that the house was no longer in sight. He took a deep breath and prepared himself to carry on living without her for all eternity.

Please don’t repost, edit or steal. Reblogs are more than welcome though!

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp fanfic #leonardo x reader #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen vampire leonardo #leonardo fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire leonardo fanfic #otome fanfic #ikevamp leonardo fanfic #leonardo #leonardo da vinci #ikemen leonardo #otome fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #ikemen series #ikemen cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #cybird #cybird games #ikesen angst #ikemen angst #The Mailbox With The Pink Flower

[violettduchess]

Hello Vi! I have a request for you, only if it inspires

Tutor AU! With one or more of your fave suitors tutoring you for your upcoming exams;

Leonardo, Comte, Gilbert, Leon, Silvio and Clavis!

I'd love to see what you come up with ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: I had a very immediate idea for Comte so I went with him for this request!

Comte x Reader, Tutor AU/ Modern AU

WC: ~1.9k

The library looms large as you hurry up the wide, slate-colored steps under a sky exhaling its last breath of evening color. The stars are slowly blinking into existence, determined to shine before they are hidden behind the slow-moving blanket of clouds heading their way. You would pause to enjoy the ephemeral moment when dusk ebbs into night.....

Except Comte is inside, waiting for you.

You’re still not sure how it’s come to this. Comte as your tutor. Your mind travels back several weeks….

Several weeks ago:

One minute you're balancing an armful of books along with your backpack and several bags of uneven groceries that are seriously testing your stubborn decision to do it all in ONE trip. The next, however, everything is falling onto the polished grey tile floor of your building’s lobby, the objects seeming to leap like lemmings out of your arms. As you stand there, staring defeatedly at the scattered mess, lost in the gravity of your poor decision, the elevator doors you were originally trying to reach slide open and like the pearly gates unveiling an angel, Comte de St Germain steps out, in the process of buttoning his elegant camel-colored coat with one hand.

Before you can say a word, he takes in your forlorn expression, the embarrassing pile of your things at your feet, and he is by your side, kneeling, helping you gather up your stray apples and the mini-boxes of cereal you are probably way too old for but love anyway. Your cheeks flush as you stammer a thank you. 

You know him more by reputation than actual acquaintance. He lives in the sprawling penthouse at the apex of your building, the crowning glory of the gothic structure, and is usually spoken about in whispers and sighs by the other residents:

“Comte? He’s a museum director downtown.”

“I hear he is a world-famous antique dealer who has made millions.”

“He’s gotta be a tech-millionaire with all that dough.”

“Well I know someone who knows someone who swears he’s a member of the royal family of some tiny European country.”

“I don’t care what he does. He’s got to be loaded to live up there.”

“I hear he’s never been married.”

“My cousin’s best friend’s neighbor's babysitter says he’s divorced from someone super famous.”

“You know what he is? I'll tell ya. Drop dead gorgeous.”

This mysterious man with eyes the color of desert sands is on the ground in his expensive suit and coat, helping you gather your plebeian things and oh, do you want to melt into the floor and disappear.

Until……

He stops, holding one of the books you had been juggling, a surprised expression crossing his classically beautiful face.

“‘The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire’ by Edward Gibbon. Fourth edition.” He seems impressed, curiosity flaring to life in the mesmerizing gold of his eyes.

And you take that lifeline, words stumbling over themselves across the knot of your tied tongue as you explain you are a graduate student, majoring in history, mentally preparing yourself for the avalanche of final exams heading your way.

And how he smiles, his long fingers tracing the embossed lettering along the spine of your book, borrowed from the local library. Entranced by the movement, you can't look away from his hand, reverence hushing his voice as he explains how he works for a museum (Points to the woman in Apartment 15B for getting that one), how he also studied history.

And then one thing leads to another and your rambling about the stress of your exams and crunch for time has evolved into Comte St. Germain, the mysterious Bruce Wayne of your building, offering to tutor you.

The Present:

And now here you stand, the night of your final session, heart prowling, turning circles in your chest like an unruly feline.

Taking a steadying breath, you continue up the steps and head inside, enjoying the sound of your heeled boots across the polished wooden floor. Past towering shelves filled with books you go until you reach the narrow iron staircase in the back, the one that spirals upwards to the second floor. Your feet follow the path they have gotten used to over the last few weeks, through the racks, down a narrow gangway until you reach the small cluster of tables at the western corner of the library, the ones underneath the imposing arched window that allows you a clear view of the darkening sky and the pale orange glow of the streetlamp across the street.

Comte looks up from the book he has been reading and offers you a smile, at once familiar and exotic.

“Ah, there you are, chérie. Ready for our final session?”

Something inside you constricts at the thought that this is the last time you will be here with him like this, tucked away in the surprising intimacy of a large public library, listening to his honeyed voice as you discuss not only history, but also the mundane: what music he listens to when he goes on long drives, his favorite type of wine, the best tea for a rainy Sunday morning. And it isn't just his speaking….Comte listens. He really listens when you talk, when you ask questions, when you give an opinion. He rests his chin on his hand, head tilted ever so slightly, his entire attention focused on you, whether you are explaining the fine points of one of the many Treaties of Paris or doing your best to convince him that dipping your French fries in your milkshake really does make them taste better. 

With the glow of remembrance in your smile, you slide into the seat next to him, running your fingers along the soft grain of the elegant wooden chair as you settle in.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” you say, returning his smile while looking at the array of books he has spread out across the table. “Let’s do this.”

“Oui,” he says as his smile curves into a grin. “Tonight we’re focusing on art for your art history final. You already sent me the list of pieces your professor wants you to know for your exam so we can work our way through those.”

You breathe in, trying not to get distracted by the warm, earthy scent of his cologne.

“Professor Leonardo is great but it’s such a long list….” Your shoulders slump at the thought of tackling everything on it. And then you feel Comte’s hand there, on your forearm, warm even through the soft material of your blouse.

“Then let us begin.”

He spends hours, guiding you through Girl with the Pearl Earring, The Birth of Venus, Las Meninas, and Water Lillies. You wander through the great masters like an enamored visitor in an enchanted garden, listening as Comte helps you to remember what you have learned about the paintings as well as unlocking secrets you have never heard before. He leads you through the design of the Colosseum, the Parthenon, Hagia Sofia, Notre Dame, his voice a golden thread that spins you across the architectural wonders. And now, in your final hour of study, he opens the book of sculptures. You visit Rodin’s Thinker, Michelangelo’s David, the Venus de Milo. And finally, you come to the last sculpture on your list: Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss by Antonio Canova.

“Ah…” He pulls the book closer, the photograph of the sculpture filling the page. “This….is a masterpiece of….” He glances over at you, brow lifted as he waits for the answer.

“Neoclassicism…but with strong elements of the Romantic, given the subject matter.”

“Bien joué.” The praise falls from his lips softly, slides over you like melting wax, sends a jolt of heat across your skin. He doesn’t seem to notice as he flattens down the pages with both hands, his bright eyes roaming over the image.

“So you know the story of Cupid and Psyche?”

You try to remember what Professor Leonardo explained in class when he had introduced the sculpture. “She opened a forbidden jar and was put to sleep as punishment?” 

Comte nods. “Venus forbid Psyche from opening the jar. It supposedly held Divine Beauty. Psyche could not resist temptation and instead of beauty, she was overcome by the Sleep of Innermost Darkness.” He grins slowly. “Very dramatic. Cupid sees his lover unconscious and pricks her with an arrow, awakening her. This sculpture captures that moment.”

Outside the library window, the streetlamp glows a soft orange. A light rain is now falling, making the light seem as if it is dancing, shimmering against the night.

“Just look at the lines,” he murmurs. He takes his index finger and slowly begins tracing the line of Psyche’s body. It follows the curve of her torso as she stretches up towards Cupid. “Her arms reach back for him.”

You lean in, closer to Comte, watching the path his finger makes along the glossy page. Your heart is suddenly hammering a woodpecker’s song against your breastbone.

“Her hands are in her lover’s hair, the gesture so familiar, so loving.” He traces down the line of Psyche's neck. “And here….she is bent back to him, so exposed and vulnerable, tilting to look up into his face. What do you see there?”

His voice winds itself around you, wrapping you in golden vines of warmth and want. You need a moment to find your own. When you do, it is only capable of expressing itself in a breathless whisper.

“Tenderness. Joy.”

He nods slowly, trailing his finger down Cupid’s strong arm. “And what do you see in him?”

Your thoughts are bright butterflies, sparks that fly up into the haze of your mind and explode in little pinpricks of light. Blinking, trying to control the overwhelming wave of attraction that threatens to pull you under, you reach out and touch the same page, your fingers scant centimeters from his.

“He’s…..adoring. The way he holds her head, his fingers touching her face. And he’s smiling at her, affectionately. Openly.” Your gaze drops down to where Comte’s finger points to Cupid’s left arm. You clear your throat and continue. “He covers her breasts with his arm, shielding her from the viewer, and yet that one hand holds her in a way that’s….it’s so intimate. It feels somehow more intimate than if we would see her bare.” Your voice is a whisper, soft and woven through with delicate wisps of yearning. “He touches her as if he’s done it a hundred times and still revels in it…..” You trail off, pressing your lips together, unable to go on.

Comte’s fingers brush against yours and you turn your head, startled to find that your faces are so very close. Outside the rain gently rolls down the massive glass window. The streetlamp flickers. Comte’s gaze is a steady golden sun.

“He adores her,” he murmurs, his voice rolling through you. You feel his fingers move, covering yours on the page. 

“She marvels at him,” you answer quietly, your fingers curling around his in response.

He leans down ever so slightly, his mouth so close you can feel the warmth of his words on your lips. “He dreams of her……” 

“.....and he is what makes her waking sublime…” The words are hardly more than the breaths between heartbeats.

His mouth brushes faintly against yours, the softest touch, a silken feather, a velvet caress.

“....He wants nothing more…..” His hand tightens around yours, his chest rising and falling with the contained power of his emotion. “...than to kiss her….”

“He should,” you say, soft as a nightingale welcoming a summer evening. "He should kiss her."

And he does, pressing his lips against yours as the wave that has been looming ever closer pours down upon you both. One hand rises, gripping the nape of your neck with tender ardor. You plunge your free hand into the soft wilderness of his tawny hair, opening your mouth to taste him.

Your other hand? It is still tightly holding onto his, a promise you won’t let go.

An echo of Cupid and his beloved Psyche.

Pysche Revived by Cupid's Kiss- Antonio Canova, 1793

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @fang-and-feather @bubblexly @kiki-tties

#ikemen series #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #comte de saint germain #ikemen comte #comte x reader #tutor au #modern au #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

[candied-boys]

Catboy Charles x F! Reader - Part 6

Tags: fluffy fluff, Charles likes his kibble still but not his clothes

Part 5

You did try to hide the kibble while he was napping. You really did. But it would seem his scent perception is just as good as a human as it was as a cat, and he easily finds the sealed bag under the kitchen sink behind the garbage pail while you're busying yourself hanging up the wet laundry.

“Are you hungry?” you ask when you return to the kitchen to put in another load only to find him sitting cross-legged on the hardwood, munching on handfuls of the stuff with a giddy smile like it's a bag of popcorn and not pet food.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺

“A little,” he answers meekly after the plastic crinkles loudly as he clutches it to his chest like you're going to rip it out of his hands.

You suppose he isn't used to asking for food since you always just left a bowl out for him to graze on throughout the day. Now you're going to have to feed him yourself, but the problem is what. He didn't like much of what you gave him at lunch, and beyond those fishy tubes snacks you don't know what he genuinely likes.

Kneeling down next to him you ruffle his hair, then reach into the bag to try one for yourself. Maybe it'll give you a clue as to why he's so fond of it.

It's not helpful. It literally just tastes like salt and dry cornmeal with a hint of mystery meat. You don't buy the cheapest, but you really can't afford the top grade food that's only sold at the vet's.

Sitting down and leaning into the cupboards with him, you pull out your phone and start looking up what cat food is made of, what cats eat on a natural diet, what they like and what they don't like. Unsurprisingly, the answer is mostly meat. Much to your disbelief, however, apparently cats can't taste sweetness. Entirely derailed by curiosity, you pull out a bag of candy you keep hidden in the back of the pantry and unwrap one each.

“Try this Charles and tell me if you like it!”

He takes it willingly and pops it in his mouth, but just shrugs after chewing.

When you ask what he tastes his answer is simple.

“Kind of like my food I was just eating?” With which he takes another handful of kibble and begins munching again.

You try again with a few grapes, but he's even less impressed. He doesn't mind the crackers, but he isn't fond of nuts. You already know he likes dairy and won't eat salad. Debating what vegetables might be palatable, you end up thinking about what pairs well with meat and stumble upon steak and fries, which are salty and bland like his kibble. Not as crunchy, but maybe he'd like it.

“I'm going to run out and pick up some dinner for us. Could you wait to eat more until I get back? If you don't like what I bring, you can keep eating your kibble,” you offer tentatively.

Charles nods and reluctantly hands you the bag, round eyes looking up into yours as he asks sheepishly, “Will I have to use a fork again?”

“Maybe, but you'll be okay, Minou,” you tell him truthfully and kiss his cheek.

At the same brasserie where you first met your little kitten, you order steak frites and also decide a hamburger might be a good backup too. While they prepare the order, you visit the corner store to hunt for anything else he might like - jerky, crisps, yogurt, dehydrated vegetables, and so on until your arms are full.

When you get home you nearly trip over Charles, who is lounging in the entranceway. You forgot your cat always waits for you by the door. You remind yourself you're going to have to talk to him about that, and many, many other things at some point.

But first, food.

Dinner passes with more ease than lunch. He likes the steak better, but ends up eating both the slices of meat and the fries with his fingers after watching you dip your potatoes in ketchup without touching a fork.

Exhaustion settles in sooner than most nights, and you find yourself washing up and showing him how to brush his teeth by nine o'clock. It turns out that, just like his tongue, his teeth are more catlike than human too. Though when you count them you find out he has thirty, which is more than you after getting your wisdom teeth removed.

With a few too many questions swirling in your head, you tell Charles through a yawn that you'll sleep on the sofa today.

“Okay me too,” he smiles contentedly.

“No, I meant you sleep in the bed and I'll sleep on the sofa, Charles,” you correct yourself.

“Why? We always sleep together…” Those round eyes and floppy tail are all too familiar.

“Yes, but you were smaller.”

Disappointment tugging his ears down now too, he protests, “There's enough room for two on the bed. You sleep with other guys on the bed.”

It's true. You sleep with total strangers from time to time, but that's precisely because you don't live together and have to face them the next day that you can. But trying to explain the complexities of maintaining a platonic relationship with the opposite sex while sleeping together in the same bed sounds like a horrible idea right now.

“You're not going to let me sleep alone, are you?”

“No. I want to sleep with you like always. I hate being alone…”

Relenting, you abandon the sofa in favour of the bed, eagerly crawling beneath the covers to embrace slumber.

“Why are you wearing clothes to bed? You never wear clothes…” you hear Charles ask as you pull up the blanket.

“Because you're here…” you mumble.

“I've always been here…”

“Yes…” Words are starting to fail you. “But anyway, this is more comfortable today.”

“Okay. Can I take mine off now? They're really uncomfortable…” he asks softly, clearly worried you'll say no.

Hardly awake, you don't even know what the question was by the time you answer, “Mhm, whatever you want, Charles.”

Part 7

#ikevamp #ikevam charles #ikemen vampire charles #charles route release campaign #charles henri sanson #ikevamp charles #ikevam #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire x reader

[xxsycamore]

𝗡𝗮𝗽, 𝗡𝗮𝗽𝗼, 𝗡𝗮𝗽𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿, 𝗡𝗮𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗶, 𝗡𝗮𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗼, 𝗲𝘁 𝗰𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮 [Napoleon x MC]

► Lately Napoleon notices that MC is using quite a lot of nicknames for him…

Napoleon Bonaparte x MC • rating: G • wordcount: 776 • tags: fluff; nicknames; humor; ‼ slightly suggestive • masterlist

a/n: While talking about how in the ikeseries games there are suitors whose nicknames are the actual names of other suitors and thus making it hard to figure out who the person is speaking about, (see: Leo (midcin) and Leo-nardo/Gali-leo; Liam and Wil-liam (ikemen villains); Leon (ikepri) and Napo-leon) it accidentally turned into a discussion of preferred nicknames for Napoleon.

From @viohasgoneintothewoods : Nap

From @venulus : Leone, Napoleoncito, Leoncito

From @krys-loves-otome : Napster, Naps, Napoleoni

Lately Napoleon notices that MC is using quite a lot of nicknames for him…

1. As soon as he wakes up.

"Wakey wakey, Nap…"

The sound of MC's voice wakes him up just to the point where he reaches a hand out of the bedsheets to drag her in for his infamous morning kiss. But he pauses. He realizes the nickname she called him with.

"…Nap? Because I sleep a lot?"

"Yes, because you sleep a lot!"

Napoleon hums, nestling himself further in the mess of bedsheets.

"I don't even nap that much, I just sleep in…"

2. At breakfast

"Vincent, can you pass this to Napo?"

"Napo? Oh! Here you go, Napo!"

Napoleon blinks at MC's new nickname for him, quickly adapted by Vincent, barely remembering to take the plate from his hands. He guesses he's Napo now.

"Hah. Napo. I like how it sounds." Leonardo chimes in, not even looking away from his morning paper.

"Napo…" Jean tries. If it sticks with Jean, then it sticks forever.

3. On a date

"Are you falling asleep?"

Napoleon makes a low sound in his throat in reply, enough to let her know that he's not falling asleep. Their picnic date turned into a lazy reading session in nature, and frankly, the book hasn't been too interesting.

"This is why I call you Napster."

There it is again.

He remains silent for a moment. He looks for the line he read last in the book but he can't find it.

"You don't even call me Napster."

4. At the école

"Napoleone! Your fiancée is here!"

Turning to the boy who informs him of MC's arrival, Napoleon nearly misses the incoming attack from his other short opponent. But only nearly. Because he's not their cool teacher for nothing.

"Ahh, did you lie about proposing to me again? Stupid Napoleoni…"

Napoleoni? Napoleoni??!!

The laugher of a dozen kids is too much shame to live with. He will never be their cool teacher again, not with that lame nickname.

5. At night

Being a vampire doesn't mean that you don't deserve a nice massage at the end of a long day. Truly, his muscles aren't given the chance to stiffen too much, but he can't miss the magic touch of MC's hands on him. He's lying on his stomach, with her straddling his waist and working the knots on his shoulders.

"Mmm…"

He's aware he is being vocal. It's just that good.

MC giggles.

"You're roaring like a lion."

"Mmyeah? Do you have a clever little nickname for that too?"

"I do actually!"

She pauses, and Napoleon thinks she might be coming with it right now.

"Napoleoncito."

Oh. So we're spanishing it up now?

"That's a little too long, don't you think? Defeats the purpose."

"Hmm, hmm…"

She's not even moving her hands anymore, but Napoleon is too interested to see where this leads to care.

"Leoncito then. I like it! You're my little lion…"

Now, this is taking it too far.

In one quick and swift movement, Napoleon snakes his way from under MC and throws her down on the bed - so that he's leaning over her with a hand on each side of her head.

"Am I still a little lion?"

MC catches her bottom lip between her teeth, looking him in the eye. He seems quite handsome from this angle, if she has to be frank.

"Please don't eat me."

"Only if you tell me what's up with you and nicknames lately."

She giggles under him, fidgeting with a button of his shirt. Not necessarily with the intention to undo it.

"I just thought you might've gotten bored with the same old every time. You've got your 'Nunuche' for me but my 'Leon' or occasionally 'Leone' is not as creative as yours is."

Napoleon's eyes scan her features while taking in her words. Then he sighs.

"So that's what it was."

"Mm, maybe I should try harder…"

"I didn't say that I'm bored with how you call me."

"I liked Nap… it's keeping it nice and short. Maybe an 's' at the end will help it roll off the tongue better. An elongated one. Napsss…"

"Nunuche."

He leans in closer while she trails off in voiced out thoughts that he made clear he is not enthusiastic about hearing. She doesn't turn away, but doesn't stop either.

"Or maybe you liked Napster better? I liked Leoncito the best."

"Nunuche."

He's so close he can practically feel the shiver of her skin as he whispers against her neck, letting his fangs scrape against it.

"Call my name next."

He hears her suck on a breath and a smirk blooms on his lips.

"Napoleon."

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 @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-writer @tele86 Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikevamp napoleon #ikemen vampire napoleon bonaparte #ikemen napoleon #ikevamp fanfiction

[maries-gallery]

3K CELEBRATION

xoxo, gossip girl <3

Hi everyone! We've finally reached 3k and to thank you all for sticking around and being so supportive I wanted to do a little something, something special and in the September vibe. And for me September is GOSSIP GIRL SEASON.

No worries though, you don't need to have seen the series in order to request or have a look at the prompts!

There are some rules however, that I'd ask you to follow:

This event is both fluff, angst and nsfw, however if you request the latter you have to be over 18

You can chose up to three items from the lists for the same request

And of course, be kind when you come into my inbox!

This is open for ikevamp and ikepri

PROMPTS:

Lap dance

One night stand

Receiving sexy lingerie

Date in Paris

Love confession

Receiving flowers

Sex on a ride (car, carriage)

Teasing him in public

Being pushed against a wall

Enemies to lovers

A love that can never be

Surprise date

Drunk confession

Night at the pub/club (precise which one)

Shopping together

Sneaking out of a party

First time together

QUOTES:

"Just one kiss. Then, we can know without a doubt."

"Three words, eight letters. Say it and I'm yours."

"Tell me you love me."

"I can't stand the thought of you with anyone else."

"Because I know, no matter what, I want to be with you."

"It wouldn't be my world without you in it."

"If two people are meant to be together, they'll eventually find their way back."

"Nobody's ever looked at me the way you just did."

"I love you. I love you so much it consumes me."

"I love you more and more everyday, if it's ever possible to love someone that much."

“Just because we can’t be together doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“Feelings never do make sense. They get you all confused. Then they drive you around for hours before they drop you right back where you started.”

"You still love her?" - "Can't imagine the day I won't."

"I am so sorry for the pain I've caused you. And I know I can't take it back, but I want to try and make it up to you. Even if it takes me the rest of my life."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you 'I love you' when I knew I did."

"I may be heartless, but you're naive." 

"You're a romantic. Who knew?" - "Now you do. That's all that matters."

"Strip for me."

"For you, I would."

"How could I ever still love you after what you did?"

“I love you. Always have, always will.”

Have fun!

marie <3

taglist: @aquagirl1978 @randonauticrap @pockcock @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @ikemen-writer @ikesimp100 @ominousjangling

#ikemen prince #ikemen prince fanfic #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikemen prince fluff #ikemen prince smut #ikemen prince angst #ikepri #ikepri fanfic #ikepri fanfiction #ikepri fluff #ikepri smut #ikepri angst #ikevamp #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevamp fluff #ikevamp angst #ikevamp smut #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikemen vampire fluff #ikemen vampire angst #ikemen vampire smut

[alby-rei]

Comte's Ghost Mansion (IkeVamp; Luig's Mansion AU) Part 4

a/n: What do you mean this silly ghost AU has LORE??? What will you do against a playful ghost who can split himself into multiples? Only one way to find out! Happy reading~ ✨

Tags: Humor, Crack treated seriously, Luigi’s Mansion AU, Spooky scary spectral vampires, Ghostbuster MC Word Count: ~1900 words Characters: You, Sebastian, Ghost!Arthur Previous: Part 3 Next: Part 5

~*~

You returned to Sebastian, retelling the events of your incursion. The rain had stopped by now and the clouds parted. He scrawled furiously in his notebook, like your words were made of gold. You expected him to be mad at you for capturing a couple of his esteemed residents.

“While I should be, I’m more impressed that you succeeded at all. They’ll be fine. Keep up the good work.”

He took the Poltergust off your shoulders.

“I suppose an explanation is in order,” he said.

“About time, yeah.”

“Follow me.”

Sebastian ushered you into the garden shed. It was a lot bigger than its exterior suggested. Sebastian unlocked a compartment at the bottom of the machine. Two portrait paintings emerged, one for each captured resident. The musician maintained the scowl he wore upon capture while the trapeze artist smiled ear to ear with his eyes closed.

“He’s a writer actually,” Sebastian corrected you regarding the latter.

“A clown-ish one,” you added.

Sebastian chuckled. “It’s part of his charm. Come, I made you some food. You must be starving.”

“Yes, please!”

He asked for your choice of beverage, impressing you with the variety he listed. Alongside it, he brought you some bread, cheese, and a handful of washed grapes.

“I grew them myself in this garden,” said Sebastian, referring to the grapes.

You thanked him for the food. While nowhere near a full meal, it regained some of your energy.

“How long till the sunrise?” You asked.

“Not for another six hours or so.”

This was going to be a long night.

A yawn escaped past your lips, but you had no desire to sleep. You returned the conversation to the portrait paintings. Sebastian explained that the residents weren’t originally ghosts, but some mysterious event caused their spirits to roam at night.

One of the residents, a bright-minded inventor, built the Poltergust 1899 to take care of that. As the only unaffected human, it was Sebastian’s job to capture them, lest they escaped the mansion and never returned.

Every night, Sebastian patrolled the halls. And every morning, he placed the portrait painting above their bed to return the spirit to its vessel. When the residents woke up, they retained no memory of their ghostly wandering.

“And what made you think it was okay to put me in harm’s way?” You said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Harm? They won’t hurt you. Unless you disturbed them in some way, like I had specifically instructed you not to.”

You mumbled some excuse, but Sebastian was not convinced. What you had not noticed before were the dark circles under his eyes. Fighting off those ghosts was not so terrible, you persuaded yourself, and you had nothing else to do for the next six sleepless hours. It was kind of fun, in a strange way. A far departure from your regular life. And if it all turned out to be a dream, you wanted to see it through till the end.

After a good while of rest, you asked Sebastian to hand over the refueled Poltergust.

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re willing to go back in?”

“You, sir, still need to find me a way home. But until then, I’ll take care of it.”

He thanked you profusely and became quite animated. Upon seeing your shocked face, he pardoned his excitement and returned to his stoic self.

To ease your journey, he replaced the residents’ belongings in your pouch with a master key and a map.

You decided to explore the west wing this time. The first unlocked door revealed a massive library with aisles of bookshelves on two floors.

You’ve come to realize that everything in this mansion was so…grand. No wonder the butler looked tired. If he held sole responsibility for the whole manor’s upkeep, of course he would jump at the opportunity to enlist your help.

Walking by the bookshelves, your bookworm heart could not help but inspect the titles of each aisle. Most of them were written in French, some were in English, and the rest were new to you.

Something skittered down from the ceiling. It was a colony of cotton-like creatures with little bat wings and dotted black eyes. You waved the tube of the Poltergust at them, but they weren't affected by your presence. They seemed harmless. Cute, even.

"There you are, Sebas!" A voice called out behind you.

You tried to turn around, but you could not move, as though you were tied up. "Oh dear, you're not Sebastian at all." The voice lilted, sounding amused rather than disappointed.

"Let me go!" You wiggled as hard as you could. As you did, the invisible rope around you took shape as two tweed-covered arms.

"Easy there, dove. It wouldn't do for a pretty bird to injure itself in its haste."

You pushed your elbows as far back as you could; you just needed to reach the switch on the machine.

"Where are my manners? The name's Arthur, mystery writer at your service, but you can call me anytime." He winked.

Another writer, another clown. But some things were better left unsaid, you reminded yourself. You implored him again to release you.

“Humor me, why don’t you? I’ve been deprived of good company for so long.” You could practically see his pouty lips and puppy-dog eyes matching his tone. “Oh, I’ve got it! Let’s play a game, shall we?”

He let you go. Just as before, when you reached for the doorknob, it was locked. You readied your Poltergust 1899, bracing yourself for whatever he may throw at you.

When you turned back around, there were three of him. Three separate, identical copies of him. They all wore the same blue three-piece suit with a loose tie, just as they all wore the same cheeky grin.

“Turning your back in a duel may prove a fatal mistake, my dear,” said one of them. “But I am nothing if not a gentle-ghost. Here’s how this game works: Only one of us is the real Arthur. If you can catch the real me, you win. If you catch one of my clones, we get to play again.”

A one-in-three shot at nabbing the right one. Not the worst odds, you reckon, but choose incorrectly and you may find yourself stuck here way longer than your patience would allow. You had no negotiation power in the matter.

“Fine, I’ll play your little game.”

The three ghosts beamed excitedly, zipping around with incredible speed. They roamed freely in and out of the bookshelves. Every now and then, they would look back at you, like puppies making sure their master was still playing along.

It was one thing to play spot-the-difference when hovered side-by-side, it was another thing entirely when they were zooming around like children riding out a sugar rush. There must be some way to slow them down, you thought.

Your first attempt was to brute force it—aim at the nearest one and see what happens. You caught one on his path out of a bookshelf, but a well-timed levitating book took the hit and blocked the vacuum tube, allowing him to escape. It was a copy of ‘A Study in Scarlet’.

“Cheeky,” he lilted. “But I won’t go easy on you. Unless you could offer me something enticing in return.”

With every word he uttered, your desire to put him in his place only rose.

More books were pulled out of their stations to shield the frivolous phantoms. You tried to move them out of the way, similar to how you did with the violins, but these books were too light and stuck to your tube instantly. There was not enough resistance to redirect their course.

You needed a way to shoot them far enough to secure a capture.

You leaned against a bookshelf between the aisles to catch your breath. You had been running around with little success. Seeing you dispirited, the flirtatious triplets hovered around you, leaning out of the bookshelves with arms crossed.

“Well, this is no fun,” said the first in front of you.

“How about a hint?” said the second to your right.

“And a prize for your efforts!” said the third to your left.

While they chatted over ‘prize’ ideas, you look at each one properly. There actually were some differences between them. One of them, floating in front of you, pushed up his square-frame glasses, and you wondered if it had always been there. The one to your left wore a golden earring at the top of his right ear. It did not seem incorporeal like the rest of him. Like he wore it specifically for the occasion. The last one wore gloves of midnight black.

The earring bearer spoke next, “I can confidently tell you that I’m not the real Arthur.”

The one wearing gloves added, “In fact, he’s the real Arthur.” He pointed at the glasses-wearing ghost.

“Me?!” The accused shot back. “I say that’s a bold-faced lie!”

“And the best part,” said the third. “Only one of us is telling the truth. Good luck!”

And they were back to their zooming selves. The machine weighed you down the longer it remained on your back. It’s low rumble went from soothing to distracting as you tried to think.

If the second one is telling the truth…then the first one is lying. 

There was also the issue of the troublesome books that each one kept near and dear. You kept trying anyway. Each book that you caught was replaced by another. Half of the bookshelves were emptied by now. You wondered if there was a limit to their range. All the while, the frivolous phantoms observed your strategy with intrigue.

But if the first is lying, then there would be two real Arthurs. A contradiction.

The glasses-wearing one had a tendency to loop like an infinite symbol, like his course was predefined. The earring bearer always stayed in your vision, but just out of reach.

On the other hand, if the second is lying… then the glasses-wearer was telling the truth.

Another book obscured your aim. A copy of Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’. In your frustration, you reversed the strength dial a little too far, and it shot the book up onto the second floor of the library.

And if that’s the case, then the first is lying, too. It’s worth a shot.

“Hey! That was one of my favorites,” said the earring-bearing ghost. He turned to fly after it, and that’s when your opportunity arose.  

It must be you!

With a strong conviction, you cranked up the strength of the Poltergust and aimed at the retreating ghost.

“Looks like turning your back was your fatal mistake, sir.”

As soon as his tail was caught in the machine, the other two phantoms vanished in a show of smoke.

You heard something clank against the floor. It was the golden earring, and beside it was a little treasure chest. Inside it was a brilliant blue gem, and a message saying, ‘Best two out of three?’

You rolled your eyes, trying your best to push down the smile that made your cheeks hurt. The click of the library door signaled that it was unlocked again. You sighed with relief and made your way down the hall to the next target with Sebastian’s map as your guide.   

~*~

Tagging: @starlitmanor-network

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#ikevamp arthur #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikemen vampire #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire arthur conan doyle #ikevamp writing #arthur x reader #arthur x mc #arthur x you #starlitmanornetwork #alby rei #ghost mansion au #luigi's mansion au #ghostbuster mc #spooky scary sparkly vamps

[shookspearewrites]

Yandere(ish) Comte, "My Charlemagne"

Hello my little ducklings! I'm sorry I fell off the face of the Earth for such a long time - Tbh, there's been a load of changes in my life lately and I am just always so busy now that I'm starting my new career >2< I cannot put into words how fucking much I have missed you guys and writing and ikevamp as a whole!

I've just celebrated 1 year with my partner (Mr JJ says hi, say hey to him in the comments ^^) and I'm doing 9 til 5 every day at my work placement so that's my life update, let me know how you've been!

Anyways, I've fallen in love with the song 'Charlemagne' by Blossoms and I wrote this piece while listening to it on repeat on the train - Hope you like it!

-JJ x

__________

The gentle Comte's sharp golden eyes mirrored his protruding fangs as they pierced through the darkness hanging in cold Parisian air, violence brewing within his usually still core. Usually the lilting, soothing sound of the sweet mademoiselle's laugh would bring a smile to his handsome features, instead now there blossomed a deep scowl, a growl tearing from his throat as another man dared to rest his hand upon his lady's cheek - A man the Count thought of as an old friend, nonetheless. The nobleman snarled at the swirl of cigarillo smoke that hung thick in the air, circling the young lady like a halo as it slowly rose and was no doubt clinging to her clothing, staining it with another man's scent where her delicate, floral perfume should prevail. Where he should be able to smell her delectable blood, like nectar, flowing beneath her impossibly blemishless skin, waiting with baited breath until he could devour her. Her laugh, her blood, her love should've belonged to him, not another - now the dear Comte was no angel, but a Goddess like her deserved nothing less than he and he alone. He didn't like to admit that he was a jealous man, but the evidence was all there: Bloodlust on the tongue, a violent rage brewing in the gut and heartbreak pulling taught the strings within. Comte couldn't bare to watch the romantic scene unfolding by the river bank underneath the sky adorned with flickering stars for another moment. He took a short, sharp swig from the ornate hip flask he carried and turned on his heel, his body heavy like lead, weighed down with torment as he began to return home. Alone.

Time is the only true purgatory.

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[spoopy-fish-writes]

sorry to bother it is me again i would like to request something with leonardo invovling my OC, if is oaky with you that basically is teh same only two change repsect to the one withe Jean, she is a pureblood like him and come from the same place and period as him, now to the plot something involving he rescuing her from an unwanted suitor to one of the aprties they went with comte

— Too perfect

Suitor(s): Leonardo

TW: A stranger grabs Julie's arm

Genre: Fluff

Notes: Leonardo x Julie (requester's oc) || AHHH this is such a cute idea! I hope you have a wonderful day too 💜💜

Leonardo's gaze had been lingering on Julie for most of the night, warm golden eyes watching as she kept to herself and a few friends she had made in the new time period. She found it difficult at times in this time period to make friends. Feeling accepted wasn't so easy when you were so starkly different to everyone around you, even if not visibly but he was always glad to see her converse so comfortably with people similar to her so he was happy to stay back and allow her to have her own time.

The night went peacefully as Leonardo switched between conversing with the other guests and talking with Comte, his eyes still flitting over to the green eyed pureblood and earning a chuckle from Comte at his protectiveness while Julie's own conversation turned to the topic of courting and marriage. She wasn't so often shy nor did she always understand people's innuendos but even she wasn't able to miss the way that her friends kept looking between her and Leonardo, teasing her and asking when the two of them would finally start courting, a bright flush of pink rising on porcelain skin.

She smiled shyly despite this, waving off their question. It was easy enough to divert the attention to her friend's husband to give herself a moment to allow her cheeks to cool, though her heart still beat faster in her chest, a hand coming up to try and steady it without much success as the image of him refused to leave her mind.

Bright, warm amber eyes, lightly shadowed by brown hair, that would close with his laughter, smile perfect and unfiltered as he found comfort with her, curving slightly into a soft smirk at times that had her wanting to shy away from him in embarrassment.

She had known him for three hundred years now, surely she would be able to mind herself whenever she thought of him!

The lights above sparkling through glasses and decorating the ball room in an ethereal glow that shone through her accessories and illuminated her dress, a beautiful blue that fell down to the floor while its bodice was decorated in a floral design that Leonardo had made for her - he rarely settled for giving her anything less than the best; it was almost like a gift from a lover father than one from a close friend with all of its intricacies and detail - settled her as she and her friends' conversations descended into light chatter, each one soon leaving as the night progressed, she herself soon leading off to find Leonardo and Comte. The bustle of the ballroom and the sight of couples dancing across gracefully had her thinking rather wistfully of a certain polymath, soon finding herself alone on a balcony.

A hand on her arm snapped her out of her thoughts as she turned to face someone who she didn't recognise, a gentleman that she assumed was one of the guests.

Smile still present on her face, unwilling yet to make assumptions despite his gaze, a particular kind of self serving glee in it that would tell anyone else that he was being less than friendly, she asked, "Can I help you?"

He still didn't let go of her arm. "I came to ask if you would care to dance." His tone and actions were anything but as gentlemanly as his words suggested.

"I'm afraid not, I intend to take my leave as soon as I find my friend." She still responded politely, more than he deserved, hoping now that he would get the hint, as panic settled in. She couldn't hurt him.

Realistically she could. She was much stronger than him. It wouldn't be an issue to force him to leave her alone. But she couldn't. He was human. She couldn't bring herself to harm a human but what else was she to do? He didn't want to leave her alone and his hand tightened on her arm.

This wasn't good. She needed to leave. She needed him to leave her alone. But she couldn't force him off. She would hurt him by accident and that wouldn't bode well with anyone. Not her and certainly not Leonardo or Comte.

Or so she thought.

It was fine, she wasn't alone at the party she trusted Leonardo or Comte to step in. She didn't want to always rely on them but she would allow herself to this time. She could always rely on them.

"They can wait a few moments, there's no need to be ungrateful." His hand still didn't hurt in its tightening hold on her arm but her panic still rose.

"Monsieur, I've already said-" Her strained voice was cut off by one more familiar to her.

"Cara, is everything alright?" Julie smiled softly at the familiar sound of Leonardo's voice, her initial panic all but dissipating when she caught sight of him.

"Ah- Leonardo." The man stuttered, hand releasing Julie's arm swiftly. "Do you know her?"

"Of course. She's my fiancée." His arm wrapped around Julie's waist and she blushed at the word, looking up to find his gaze steely on that of her unwanted suitor. "I think she already said that she didn't want to dance."

The man was quick to leave now. "Yes, of course. Too much champagne perhaps..."

The shorter of the two sighed in relief, leaning against Leonardo for comfort.

"I told Comte that you looked too perfect to allow to stray alone." Leonardo's voice murmured from above her.

"And who was it that made my dress?"

While his voice had been stern moments before, there was none of that in his tone now, a comforting warmth spreading through it as he spoke to her. He was a pureblood, yes, gaze truly capable of an ice that she had very seldom seen, but that faded away in the face of his affection for her, a feeling that practically glowed in his eyes amongst concern though she couldn't see it now.

"Thank you, Leonardo." Her blush still hadn't died down and she looked away from him, hearing his light laughter than only made her cheeks burn more.

"Why didn't you pull away from him?" His tone wasn't accusatory but the concern in his voice had her keeping her eyes off him.

"I didn't want to hurt him," she said, honestly, "and I knew I could trust you to help."

Julie heard him huff quietly and turned her eyes back to him only to find a pink tint to his cheeks, gaze averted ever so slightly though smile still present.

His hand grasped hers and he lifted it to him until he was looking at her arm, where the man had grabbed her, barely restrained anger simmering in his eyes.

"Leonardo, I'm not hurt-" A kiss pressed to her arm, over the same spot has the words catching in her throat.

"I know," he muttered against her skin, lips brushing over it, "but that doesn't mean I don't worry."

"Leonardo, really, this isn't- people will get the wrong idea." The blush came back to her cheeks in full vigour and she only felt it deepen as his eyes met hers, half lidded and with that lazy smile adorning his face.

When had her heart started beating so fast?

He gently pulled her closer by her arm until she rested against his chest, her eyes wide as he lent close to her though not so much that she was uncomfortable.

"And if that was what I wanted people to think?"

His words made her pause, trying to connect points that didn't want to connect in her head. This wasn't just a friendly gesture, she knew that much even despite her occasional nievety and obliviousness, but that didn't make sense. Leonardo was never anything but friendly. Even to men and women in town, he never showed any kind of flirtatious inclination that she had noticed so why-?

"What- What do you mean?"

"Ti amo, Julie." Two words. Two words that had her mind running wildly and her heart racing. She couldn't help but throw her arms around his neck and hug him before her actions had even completely registered with her.

She was smiling. Smiling so brightly that it hurt, while tears welled up in her eyes. How long had she been harbouring these feelings for him? How long had she been waiting for a sign that he felt the same?

Her lips pressed against his and she melted into his embrace while his hand came to cup her cheek, gentle and adoring.

"Anch'io ti amo, Leonardo."

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[omkookie]

Guess who hasn't read Charles' route yet...😂 (Oops)

⌈ ⚠️ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⌉ Yandere themes, talks of baby trapping, isolation... all thattt. 15+

As nice and kind he is, he's still crazy on the inside. Because of his lack of care, he doesn't behave normally. His obsessive traits quickly become evident and as easy to spot as black ink spilled upon a white sheet of paper.

Charles is hard to read, mainly because only god knows what goes on through his head. One moment, he's all smiles and everything is normal, the other he's getting mad over a stranger who looked at you for "far too long" according to him. (It was 3 seconds at most but oh welp.)

You see, he loves his darling so much.

She's so precious to him, and he wants to give her everything that she deserves along with so much more. But he has to get violent at times, especially when his beloved darling tries to escape. He doesn't like to hurt her, but due to the circumstances it's sometimes necessary. He has to teach her to not run away, and to remain by his side forever. Alas, he will forcefully suck her blood and leave her covered in bites.

In nis delusional eyes they're meant for each other. She's so beautiful, her sweet and pure smile along with her precious and caring hands. He wants to marry her and he wants to build a future with her where they start a family.

If she has kids with him, she surely won't try to leave, right? What cruel mother would take her kids away from their father.... Everyone knows how important a father figure is to the children and household. She couldn't possibly be some cruel monster that takes her kids away from their father now, could she?

of course she can't.

Charles has so many ideas with which he can trap his darling, he's honestly clueless at what to do and which to use first.

Should he go ahead and get her pregnant? She probably wouldn't be too happy about that, considering she didn't even want to look at him right now. She's locked herself in her room in hopes of avoiding him as much as she can, so she's currently in her rebellious state. It would be so cute to have little lookalikes of her running around the house though! having kids would literally prevent her from leaving him, so that might be his best option right now. It's also the one that brings him the most delight.

Something else that he might do is just keep her isolated from others. it will make her depend solely on him, both emotionally and physically. He's curious about how much her psyche might crumble. How much could she take before it became too much? When will she finally break and start loving him back?

His twisted perception of love might be due to his past and the people he's interacted with all these years while he was alive. His twisted feelings might have spiraled from a place of confusion, because his love itself is pure... it's just overshadowed and cast aside by the unrelenting possessiveness and longing for his darling that's achingly sweet like a pink venom.

Maybe his love isn't so pure after all? could love really get corrupted by any other feelings besides hatred? guess we'll just have to wait to find out and see how far he goes.

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