#different universe same love ccc

[aquagirl1978]

a story in which mc goes to the past and meets the child chevalier and the boy ends up having his heart stolen by belle

Anon, this fic has lived rent-free in my head for entirely too long. I hope you're still around to see this finally posted 😊

It Was You - Chevalier Michel x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: Part of the Different Universe, Same Love Content Creation Challenge hosted by @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady

Pairing: Chevalier Michel x Reader

Prompt: free day (i'm not exactly sure what kind of au this falls into - time traveling? soul mates? something?)

Tags: fluff

Word Count: 1674 (so long i included a word count)

The skies were gray and the line was long as you stood and waited your turn, white rose in hand as  soft sobs and muffled whispers filled the air. Raindrops gently fell from the clouds, as if heaven, too, was mourning the loss of Rhodolite’s queen.

Two young boys stood in the distance, away from the crowds. And despite their distance, they somehow caught your eye. Your heart ached as you caught the sad expression on one of the boy’s faces; he must have been close to the queen and is grieving.

You tugged on the long sleeve of Mr. Akatsuki’s dark kimono, your wide eyes pleading. “Is it okay if I go see those boys over there? I’d like to offer my condolences.” Mr. Akatsuki turned and looked at the boys, noticing their elegant attire.

“Don’t stay long,” he replied.

“I won’t.” You turned to face the boys, the distance between you closer than you had initially thought.

As you approached the pair, their voices grew louder. 

“...from the books I’ve read. I thought I would feel something, even just a little bit, but –”

Your heart lurched; you were right, they were close with the queen.

The voices grew quieter and you couldn’t hear anything for a moment, but then you heard the same emotionless voice again.

“I realized this awhile ago, but somehow, I can only see things from a bird’s-eye point of view.”

Your heart ached hearing the young boy speak; he couldn’t be more than 10 years old. Such a young age to lose his mother. 

He must be hurting so much.

The boys, engrossed in their conversation, didn't even notice you approaching them.

“Hello?” you called out.

The two turned and looked at you. The boy with purple hair looked stunned, as if he had just heard a horrifying secret. 

The other boy, the one you had heard speaking earlier just stared at you silently, his ice blue eyes cold and emotionless.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but I just wanted to offer my condolences…”

“It’s not necessary,” the boy with blonde hair replied, coldly dismissing you.

“Chev, please,” the other boy spoke up. “This young lady came all the way over here to offer you her sympathy. Don’t you think, as the queen’s son, you could just accept it and say thank you?”

Chev, as the boy with purple hair called him, narrowed his eyes, and looked as if he was refraining from scowling. 

“I have no need for her sympathy, Clavis. You should know that better than anyone.”

Clavis approached you, a smile plastered on his face, clearly covering his grief. “You’ll have to excuse Chev. He’s so overcome with sadness that he’s forgotten his manners.” He took your small hands in his. “Allow me to accept your sympathies, on behalf of the royal family. Thank you.”

Having done what you came for, there was no reason for you to stay and intrude on them no matter what your heart was telling you. Lifting your skirt, you curtseyed and said your goodbyes to the pair.

But as soon as you took one step away, you turned around and walked right up to Chev and wrapped your arms around him.

“What are you –?” he asked, his arms awkwardly pinned to his sides by your embrace. 

“You looked like you needed a hug. Everyone deserves to love and be loved. And you lost one who loved you.” Your eyes met his, his blue eyes wide and wild like those of a caged animal. “So I’m giving you a hug today.”

You remained in the embrace until he calmed down, his body relaxed somewhat and his blue eyes returned to their cold, emotionless state. After letting go, you took a step back, your gaze holding his.

“Prince Chev, I’m really sorry about your mother,” you whispered before turning around and walking away, not giving him the chance to dismiss you again.

Clavis stared at his brother, your figure growing smaller in the distance. He watched Chev watch you walk away, and thought he detected what could be considered a ghost of a smile gracing Chev’s lips.

*****

The bookstore had been empty all afternoon, to which you were grateful as it gave you the time to finish reading. When the bell chimed, announcing the arrival of a customer, you quickly put your book away, readying yourself to work.

The gentleman who entered was tall and lean, pale blonde hair framing a face carved from marble, bright blue eyes intense as he perused the books on the shelves. Dressed casually in a black turtleneck and trousers, you wondered to yourself if he worked at the university as a professor and that was what brought him to the bookstore today. 

As he walked around the store, you got this feeling that you knew this man from somewhere. Probably a past customer, you told yourself.

But you’d remember a man so handsome, wouldn’t you?

“Excuse me, is Mr. Akatsuki in?” he asked, his tone curt.

“No, he’s out this afternoon. Can I help you with something?” 

“Yes, perhaps you can, I had ordered a number of books from him and was told they should be here.” 

“What is your name so that I can look for your order?”

“Chevalier Michel…” His voice trailed off as he looked away, clearly not a fan of social interaction.

Definitely not a professor, you told yourself as you went into the back room where Mr. Akatsuki kept all the orders. It wasn’t hard to find the order – it was a large stack of romance novels. Only romance novels. In many different foreign languages. Impressed, you were stacking the books, double checking the list to make sure everything was there, when it hit you.

Chevalier Michel. The Second Prince of Rhodolite. The late queen’s only son.

Chev. The boy you hugged on that sad day so many years ago.

Despite all the years that had passed, for some reason, your heart remembered him when he walked through that door into the bookstore.

You put the books down, an attempt to catch your breath, somewhat relieved in knowing he would not remember you, so there would be no need for any awkward conversations about that day.

How you had wondered about that little boy you met that cold, gray day. You had heard the stories about Bloodstained Roses Day; you had heard of the prince they called the Brutal Beast. 

But for some reason, the man waiting in the other room did not seem brutal nor beast-like to you. To you, he was a boy who had just lost his mother. 

“Here you go,” you said as you returned with the books, placing the pile before him. “Feel free to check over them and make sure everything is in order.”

Your hands were still on the books when his hand darted out, his fingers encircling your wrist.

“Do you remember me?” he asked, his voice cold and emotionless, much like it was all those years ago.

Your eyes widened in shock. “You remember me? After all these years?” 

“I don’t forget a name or a face. Ever.”

“Oh,” you whispered, swearing you felt his thumb gently caress the inside of your wrist. You closed your eyes, wishing for a moment that he was a professor and not royalty.

“I don’t normally come in to pick the books up myself…”

A chill washed over you as he removed his hand from your wrist, knowing you’d likely never see him again.

“Thank you. For the books.” He gathered the books in his arms, and without as much as a smile, he turned and walked out of the store and your life.

“Royalty and commoners cannot mix,” he muttered to himself, more reminder than commentary, as he closed the door behind him, leaving you for good.

*****

“Do you have any questions?” 

You looked at Sariel, who was waiting for your answer. Your eyes flicked down to the voluminous contract placed before you; your eyes flicked up and found eight sets of eyes on you.

No, that would be incorrect. Seven sets of eyes stared at you, one set looked down at the table, his eyes not meeting yours the entire meeting.

Sariel sighed as he stood up. “If you have no more questions, you have a bit of reading to do now.”

“Belle,” he added, as if to remind you of the role you just accepted. 

You quietly waved goodbye to Sariel and the other princes as they all left the room.

All but one.

He made his way towards the door, as if he was leaving with the others. But he shut the door, his body pressed against it, blocking any entry as he glared at you.

“You.”

A chill ran down your spine as he spit the word out, his body seething with controlled anger.

“I didn’t ask for this task….” you tried to reason.

How were you going to spend 30 days in this castle – his home – with him this angry.

“Of all the people in all the towns of Rhodolite, they had to pick you.”

“You keep appearing in my life. Why?” When his eyes finally met yours, you felt sadness, not anger.

Your heart ached; pushing back your chair, you stood and walked over to Chevalier, placing your palm on his cheek. 

He bristled at your touch causing you to slowly withdraw your hand.

“Don’t,” he whispered. He let out a low sigh before continuing. “No one has ever touched me.”

“Except me…”

“Except you.” 

His hand found yours and he tugged you roughly, pulling you closer to him. You looked up at him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, his pale blue eyes softening, shards of ice melting. 

“It was you, all these years it was you. It was always you.” His lips crashed against yours in a kiss you had both waited a lifetime for. Deepening the kiss, he wrapped his arms around you in an awkward embrace.

“It will always be you.”

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @violettduchess @umi-adxhira @bellerose-arcana @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage

#different universe same love ccc #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen chevalier #ikepri fanfic #ikemen fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

[violettduchess]

Heya Violet! I'm going to request an ikevamp fic for the first time, so how about either of the Day 4 prompts for Leonardo? I'm excited to see what you come up with 👍

A/N: Hi @scorchieart 💜 Thank you for your request! This is for the Different Universe Same Love CCC hosted by @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady

This combines scorchie's request with an anon request for Soulmates AU with Leonardo 💜

Leonardo x f reader

WC: 5254

"There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people." -Vincent Van Gogh 

“I hate this,” you grumble as you check your phone for the hundredth time. Where the hell is this place? It feels like it's been hours of California coastline rolling past your window. Beautiful, yes. But also so inconvenient. You lean forward towards the front of the town car.

“Abel, how much longer?”

Your driver glances at you in the rear-view mirror, smiling good-naturedly. 

“Another 15 minutes, chérie.”

You flop back into the cushioned leather, sighing. If you had known this would be a part of it, you would not have taken the role. 

Maybe. 

Ok, fine. You probably would have taken it anyway. 

The story of a woman who breaks all tradition to become a famous 19th century painter? You can practically hear Theo’s words in your ear all over again: “You want to be stuck in rom-coms forever or do you want to be taken seriously? Make art that matters?” The Dutchman is a tough agent, too direct for most actors’ fragile egos to handle but that’s why you like him. He is always honest with you.

Outside the town car window, the ocean continues to roll by, a blur of slate-gray and white. Picking up your phone for the hundredth time, you type in the name of the artist you’re on your way to see. 

Just like every time you’ve done it before, all you get is his Instagram page which is entirely too sparse and full of only half-finished paintings, close ups of brushes, a few small, charcoal sketches. Nothing about the man himself. 

You swipe Instagram away and tap on Spotify, closing your eyes and allowing a podcast about the Golden Age of Hollywood to help pass the remaining time.

“Love the vibe,” you murmur as you step out of the Mercedes, pushing up your tortoise-shell sunglasses in order to better take in the picturesque brown and white wooden house. It really does seem like something out of a Kinkade painting. It's perched on the edge of a plateau, facing a slope of green hillside that disappears into a smattering of gray rock. The rocks give way to a stretch of dark brown sand which leads you right to the blue-gray beauty of the Pacific Ocean. It's here the warm vibes end though. This beach is nothing like the sandy beaches of Southern California. This is something wilder, something sharper. There is no manicured, processed beach feeling here. This is nature allowing you into her world, the crashing of the waves onto the shore not an invitation but a reminder. You’re here with her permission.

Abel comes around, carrying your luggage and pauses, taking in the house. “It’s lovely,” he murmurs. 

You shoot him a Look. “It’s miles from just about anything. I hope Vlad knows what he’s doing.”

Vlad is the director of the film you are going to star in. The one who said you needed to spend some time with a real-life artist in order to understand the lifestyle, the thought process, the way of viewing the world. And he knew just the person. A friend of a friend, an artist of some small renown, who made money on the side by working as a consultant for various productions. He had invited you to stay with him for a few days, to teach you basic painting and drawing techniques so it would look realistic on film, and to answer any questions you had. Vlad vouched for him, claiming he was a good man, one he would trust his star with. 

You turn to Abel. “Only leave if I give you the sign.”

He smiles indulgently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll be fine. But I will wait until I see it.”

Steeling yourself, you gather your bags and make your way down the short driveway and up the dark wooden steps. There’s no doorbell so you knock loudly.

You aren’t sure what you expected. A man named Leonardo made you think he would be older with flowing white locks and a long wizard-like beard. What you did not expect was the door to be opened by a golden-eyed Adonis with ombre hair and one of the friendliest, most open smiles you’ve ever seen. 

“Benvenuta, cara mia. Welcome.”

That voice. Your heart is doing tiny backflips inside your chest as a horde of butterflies excitedly flutter their wings inside your stomach. It takes you a moment before you figure out the way words work again.

“Thank you.”

Behind your back, you wiggle two fingers at Abel furiously. 

The driver covers his grin with the back of his hand, nodding once to Leonardo in greeting before sliding back into the vehicle. He watches through the car window as Leo takes your bags and you follow him inside, the white wooden door closing behind you.

“Good luck, chérie,” he chuckles softly. Somehow, he is certain you will be just fine.

You are utterly charmed. The main house is small, and the guest house just behind it even smaller, but they are both unique, beautiful in their own ways. Everything is simple, clean. Wide windows keep the ocean in view at all times. In every room there is something to look at. A miniature painting of sunset over the water on the living room table. An antique nautical map hanging on the wall of the dining room. An oversized forest green couch that looks like it's just waiting for you to snuggle into it.

Leonardo has just brought your bags to the guest house, a one room structure with a brass bed, rustic homemade dresser, a small desk and a tiny en-suite bathroom.

“I know you are probably used to more luxurious accommodations.”

“No, this is lovely. Really.” You glance down at your phone, considering whether to post a picture to your socials and hear him laugh softly at the expression on your face. The sound settles itself into your bones, warm and welcoming.

“Reception is a bit shoddy out here. You have the best chance when you go to the living room.”

Tucking your phone into the back pocket of your jeans, you flash him a smile. “Thanks for the tip.”

He holds your gaze a moment and you feel like sand, being pulled towards an irresistible ocean. 

“You must be starving. Let’s eat before I show you my studio.”

With a pleasantly full stomach and a glass of red wine in hand, you step inside the studio and gasp. Gone are the clean lines, the simplistic beauty of the rest of the house. Here is a world of color and chaos, paint and pandemonium, art and anarchy. Canvases are everywhere, paint pots and brushes, charcoal and sketchbooks. And while it may look like mayhem, there is a truth about it that stirs something inside you. This is the man behind the easy-going smile. This is his heart and soul made tangible, made material. 

He notices the way you’re looking around, sees the look in your bright eyes and he knows that you see it, the love he has for his craft. You're not some Hollywood actress looking down her nose at a mess. You're one artist taking in another artist’s medium and appreciating it. His heart unexpectedly shifts, sliding closer to some unseen edge. 

“This is…incredible.” You walk slowly through the space, stopping in front of whatever catches your eye. A half-finished sketch of a whale breaching the surface of the water. An anatomically correct drawing of the underside of a starfish. A canvas of yellows and oranges and reds, a practice in blending.

“How come I’ve never seen you post a finished painting on your social media?” You stop when you come to a whole row of them, leaning casually against the back wall of his studio. Crouching down, you inspect a painting of a man from behind, his arms spread out wide towards a turbulent, white-capped ocean, daring it maybe. Or welcoming it.

He shrugs, running his hand through his hair, a tick you’ll come to recognize as something he does when he is uncomfortable.

“I sell a few here and there. Not enough to earn a living but that’s what jobs like this are for, yeah?”

You rise slowly back to full height, taking a sip of the rich wine.

“Have you ever showcased your work?”

He scoffs as he lifts a paint-stained rag from one corner of his supply table and toys with it before tossing it right back.

“To what end? I paint for me. That is enough.”

That sounds like someone who is too scared to try. But you keep the words locked in your mind, aware enough to know that might be reaching a bit too deeply into his psyche for comfort.

“So….when do we begin?”

He smiles slowly and it burns through your body, warming you more than the alcohol.

“Tomorrow. Sunrise.”

All those hours you could still be sleeping. Instead of being warm and snug in your very cozy guesthouse, you are shivering on a beach, sitting on a blanket next to Leonardo as he flips open the sketchbook in front of you. He’s in an oversized brown knit sweater and jeans, looking like a model for some outdoor clothing company whereas you, trying to pull your fitted sweater down over your exposed lower back, look like some Hollywood wanna-be who wasn’t prepared for the cold California morning.

He places several small gray pebbles in front of you on the blanket.

“Sketch these.”

You tilt your head. “They’re rocks.”

“There is challenge in even the simplest of forms. Please try.”

You’re skeptical as you yank down once more on your sweater, sitting cross-legged and staring down at the pebbles. It can’t be that hard. Picking up the pencil, you begin trying to capture their form. 

It proves to be much harder than it looks. 

Your brow furrows as you look from your sketch, which is doing a fantastic job of being horrible, to the smooth stones in front of you.

“You must relax,” he murmurs as he scoots closer. “You’re gripping that poor pencil like you wish to strangle it.” He reaches over, covering your hand with his. You’re immediately hit with the faint smell of tobacco. Does he smoke? And something else….something earthy and rich and entirely too appealing for this early in the morning. His fingers, graceful and strong, carefully manipulate yours, sliding over your skin and leaving small ripples of heat in their wake. He touches your wrist, over the place where your heart is beating so quickly, tilting it just so. 

He holds you there, moving your hand like a puppeteer might the wooden cross of marionette. You watch as the pebbles slowly come to life, flowing from the tip of your pencil.

“Let go,” his voice, gentle as the morning breeze, deep as the sea, whispers in your ear. “You must let go and allow the pencil to do its job.”

Slowly he removes his hand and the sudden lack of contact spurs a tiny whimper from your throat. Luckily, he mistakes it for dismay at his lack of coaching and chuckles.

“You continue on your own, cara mia.”

You’ve been called many things: The Girl Next Door, America’s Sweetheart but somehow, that nickname rolling so casually off his tongue suddenly means more than any of that. You’re smiling despite the cold, despite the wind, despite your stupid, impractical sweater.

Inhaling, you try again, the pencil less a tool in your hand as an extension of it. And while your pebbles don’t look amazing, they do look much closer to what you are trying to accomplish. 

“Well done,” he says, looking over your shoulder. “You're a quick learner.”

You smile at him, his words washing over you, warm as sunshine.

“Can I try something else? Maybe try the sand and the ocean?”

He nods, reaching for the hem of his sweater. The next thing you know he’s removed it and wrapped it around your shoulders, leaving you surrounded by soft wool that smells like Leonardo. Your heart stumbles.

“Si. Let’s try.”

My life has never been this disconnected from work and yet, so full, you think as you wrap the beige blanket tighter around your body, watching Leonardo paint. You’re sitting outside on the large porch, the breathtaking view of the sand dunes, the boulders, the sand and the endless sea stretched out before you like a slice of paradise.

You’ve been here almost a week and the world has changed. The bright lights of Hollywood seem so far away. Now you’re concerned with daylight and sunrises, the way light falls across an object or a person, how to capture its essence with charcoal and acrylics, watercolor and wax. You haven't even touched your phone other than to reassure Theo you are fine, doing well and learning a lot, soaking in the experience of being an artist so that you can find it again when the cameras are on you. You’ve abandoned your socials, only leaving a message saying something about the life of an actor and secret prep work that you can’t talk about. It’s technically not a lie.

You watch as Leonardo dips his brush into a red that looks far too bright and finds a way to make it exactly the right shade of sunset, adding an element to his painted sky that you didn’t even know was missing until he put it there. He’s relaxed, his body loose, movements like flowing water as he almost lovingly drags the brush along the canvas. He showed you how, a few mornings ago. You’ve been haunted ever since by the feel of his larger body behind you, the way he reached around, gently taking hold of your wrist, and showed you how to hold yourself, teaching your body the dance of a painter. He is patient, always answering any question of yours the best he can. And so intelligent. The other night you curled up on his overstuffed green couch to look through several of his notebooks, filled with sketches and half-finished designs for contraptions that looked more sci-fi than present day. One entire page was devoted entirely to drawing various animal wings. The next was an excruciatingly detailed drawing of his own hand.

He talks about art the way you talk about acting: a way to conduct emotion, to spark a connection between people. You feel like he understands when you explain how acting is a form of devotion to humanity, an expression of love. Most people roll their eyes when an actor begins talking about their craft. His smile tells you all you need to know about how well he truly does understand. 

He shakes you from your reverie when he joins you on the bench, wiping his hands on a towel and reaching for his glass of wine.

“And? What do you think?”

You tilt your head, pretending to study the easel with its beautiful interpretation of the actual sunset that is happening behind it. He has not replicated it exactly, but captured the symphony of colors, the dramatic brass of the oranges and romantic woodwinds of the pinks, the clouds with their warmly colored underbellies and of course, the ever present sea, gilded in gold.

“It’s beautiful, Leo.” 

“You like it, which means I’m pleased.” He takes another sip. “Consider it a gift, yeah?. It is, after all, our last weekend together.”

Those words carve themself into the moment, slicing away the peace you’ve been feeling. Dismay bleeds from your heart. You were going to have to face it, the fact that your time with him, magical as it has been, is coming to an end. But you had hoped, irrationally, that maybe if no one said it, you could just stay here, in this beautiful house with this beautiful man as long as you wanted.

Your face, the tool of your trade that you can usually control so well, betrays your thoughts.

“Cara mia.” He reaches out, his fingers curling inwards for a moment, hesitant. The man who never has a problem touching you when correcting your hand or positioning your arm now needs a moment of courage. Because this isn’t a teaching moment. Maybe none of them ever really were. He only knows that from the second he opened the front door and you were there, with your smile like sunshine and eyes bright with intelligence and excitement, he felt drawn to you like he's never been toward anyone before.

You turn your face into his touch, reaching up to cup your hand over his. You press a kiss into his palm. The lull of the waves is drowned out by the roaring of your heartbeat. And then he leans towards you, taking your face in his beautiful hands, and he kisses you. 

Your heart cracks open and oceans of desire and want and something else, something nameless underneath those wild waves of emotion flood you. He feels so good. This feels so right.

You kiss with the exhilaration of new lovers, wildly and without a care for anything else in the world. The sunset and her majestic colors be damned. There is nothing as beautiful as the wildfire of gold in his eyes, the melody of his breathing. You’re on his lap, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, pressed as closely as you can be and it isn’t enough. He slides his hands under your blouse, pressing the palms of his hands to your bare back. It isn’t enough.

You manage to tear your mouth away from him long enough to get out one word: “Inside.”

He stands up and you wrap your legs around him, his strong arms supporting your weight as he carries you inside the wooden house on the plateau, impatiently stealing every kiss he can before laying you down on the oversized green couch, covering your body with his. He softly growls your name in a way that sends fire cascading through your veins.

The sky outside darkens as the last rays of sunset disappear. Her show is over. You both belong now to the night.

Heart, say good-bye because you are no longer mine. You lay on your side, facing the open window of Leonardo’s bedroom. The ocean breeze, cool with night’s kiss, waves the pale curtains and skims over your skin, raising goosebumps along your bare arm and shoulder. 

You close your eyes, reveling in the heavy feeling of your body, tempest-tossed and satisfied, peppered with the light marks of your lovemaking. You're a goner. You’ve fallen overboard, heading further and further down into the churning depths of your feelings for Leonardo. And you’re not sinking. Not at all. You’re kicking your legs and diving, excited to explore the deep and all its mysteries.

He stirs in his sleep and you roll back to face him, watching as he slowly surfaces from whatever dream he was lost in. His warm eyes, framed by such dark lashes, flutter open. When he sees you, laying on your side, facing him, he smiles slowly and reaches out a hand.

“Come here, cara mia.”

The thought of resisting doesn’t even cross your mind. You slide over into his arms, marveling at the feel of his body against yours, strong muscles, long legs. He presses a kiss to your temple, then nuzzles your neck affectionately.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You smile, tipping your head up to meet his gaze. Now may not be the right time to tell him everything you’re thinking. You don’t want to scare him away.

“No thoughts. Just....” You slide your hand over his chest, over the lean muscles of his abdomen, and then lower. His golden eyes flare bright with immediate hunger. His lips part as he exhales.

With a groan he pulls you to him and you close your eyes, letting his greedy mouth and wandering hands take you away.

This is only the beginning after all. You have plenty of time to figure out what's next. 

A Year Later

“Now that’s just one review! The rest are all like it!”

You listen to Theo’s exuberant voice as he names all the various publications that are writing rave reviews about the film. Funny, everything you thought you ever wanted is coming true. You made a movie that is earning positive reviews across the board, with your performance hailed as a stand out, a tour de force unlike anything you’ve ever done. There’s already talk about awards and other dramatic parts and are you interested in endorsements?

And yet, you’re miserable.

Leaning back into the plush seat of the town car, you stop Theo’s voice message and tap on Instagram and, like a lemming drawn to a cliff, go to his page.

All comments are turned off and there is only one picture posted: a short message thanking people for their interest but he is on hiatus.

The post is six months old.

How did it all go so wrong? You had been so happy.

Your eyes fall closed and memories play themselves out in front of you, like a flickering movie reel from yesteryear.

You and Leonardo on his porch, cuddled together under a blanket as you watch the sunrise. He can’t stop touching you and you him.

Driving with him back to Southern California, his eyes widening when you pull into the driveway of your home, modest by Hollywood standards, a palace compared to his small wooden dwelling.

Your pool. Cold water. Hot mouths. His hand pressed against your lips, stifling your sounds even as he continues moving.

The paparazzi finding you after a few days of blissful privacy, snapping a shot of you two leaving Starbucks, his hand casually resting on your hip, thumb stroking the stripe of bare skin between your jeans and the hem of your shirt.

Your names splashed across gossip sites and social media. He gains thousands of followers in a matter of hours, people hoping he’ll post an image of the two of you together. An older picture of him from several years ago at an art gallery opening in SoHo is all they have and it is everywhere. And it is not enough. They want more.

They follow you home. They follow you to work. They follow you when you go out to eat. They follow you to appointments, to meetings, across town and back. They yell your name, they ask about him. They are relentless.

And then they start to follow him. To your home. To the restaurant where you’re meeting. To his home. They wait by the wooden house on the plateau, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and him. They yell your name, they ask about rumors, they demand to know when the wedding is.

They swarm you both like locusts blocking out the sun, sucking up all your air.

And then his paintings begin to sell. Never has there been such a demand. He can’t keep up. And he isn’t happy.

Because he says he did nothing to deserve it aside from being with you. No one cared before. He has not earned this success. It’s the side-effect of loving you. Side-effect, you repeat one night, staring at him across your marble kitchen island, that makes it sound like loving me is some kind of disease.

He cures himself by leaving. You wake up one morning and all his things are gone. He is a ghost who has vanished back into the nether of sea-spray and morning fog from whence he came.

All he leaves you with is a note, the paper torn from one of his notepads, in his messy, slanted writing: “I’m sorry.”

A note, and all the splinters of your broken heart.

And now you’re almost at your destination. The tiny bed-and-breakfast tucked away in a remote corner of the California coast. Your refuge from the rest of the world. The place you come to heal.

You’ve been here a few times since he left. The owners, Wolf and Jean, are like family. They took care of you before you became successful, when you were a starving artist looking for your big break, and have continued to do so even now, when you could easily stay at any five-star hotel across the globe but always come back here, to warmth and comfort.

The first time you came here after he left, they filled your room with macaroons, your favorite dessert. They must have heard the news from some entertainment program or maybe some celebrity news ticker. You could have killed the Starbucks barista who spoke to the press, saying how you suddenly were coming alone to pick up your coffee and how pale you were, your eyes red from crying.

Another time they subtly laid a newspaper on your bed. At first you weren’t sure why but then you saw the tiny article about Leonardo having a small but successful showing in Denmark, worlds away from the bright lights of Hollywood. Like a 1950’s schoolgirl, you had cut out the small black and white picture of him and folded it, hiding it in your wallet. Doing so felt both pathetic and comforting at the same time.

Another winding road, dipping between tree and rocky coast and then one final turn. The familiar blue and white building comes into sight and you can feel yourself breathing easier already.  The car slows to a stop and a moment later, Abel opens the door for you.

“We’re here, chérie.” His champagne-colored eyes have a twinkle to them which leaves you wondering if he knows something you don't.

Forever ago, this place used to scare you with its pointed roof and close proximity to the edge of a very steep cliff. But it’s become your home away from home and you’re soothed by the sight of it.

“I’ll just get my���” Your weekend bag is already on the ground next to you and the town car is halfway down the drive. You frown slightly before hoisting up your bag. Well, he was sure in a hurry.

You bound up the familiar steps, opening the friendly blue door and step into the foyer.

“Jean? Wolf?”

Odd, they would normally be here to meet you, food and drink in hand.

You glance around, taking out your phone to make sure that you had sent them the correct date and time when you spot something hanging on the wall. Your fingers go numb and your phone falls, landing with a harmless thud on the thick carpeting.

Hanging on the wall is a new painting. It’s a woman, sitting on a beach at sunrise, wrapped up in an oversized, cozy brown sweater. Her head is tipped back, eyes closed, a serene expression on her face. It’s soft and romantic. Not a brushstroke wasted nor a color excessive. 

The sea is a deep gray-blue. 

The sky is a garden of pinks and lavenders and orange. 

The woman is you.

You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. 

How....

“Cara mia.”

Like an apparition he is suddenly standing there, in the doorway. Not some memory or picture or dream, but Leonardo, flesh and blood, right there in the same room as you. The sight of him hits you like the full force of a typhoon, draining all the color from your face and sending you back a step.

As you recover from your shock, you notice now how nervous he is. His hands, normally so strong and steady, whether creating art or touching you, are shaking. He has dark circles under his golden eyes, shadows of what has been haunting him.

“Leonardo.” His name is twisted upon itself, hollow and aching when it passes your lips. 

“May I speak? I have something to say to you. Please."

You nod, your breath held prisoner in your lungs, your wounded heart limps in circles in your chest, aching at the sight of him.

He draws a deep breath.

“I was a fool. I pushed you away because I was afraid. Your world is so much bigger than mine and instead of joining you, proud to be by your side, learning how to navigate new waters, I ran.” He pushes a hand through his hair, an inhale needed to steady his nerves. “That was wrong. I hurt you. I’m so sorry, cara mia. So deeply sorry for how stupid I was. I…I regretted it immediately but it was too late...Dio, sono un idiota.” 

He shakes his head, defeated. The failure of words in the face of what he did is stark and he finds himself unable to go on. Nothing can begin to explain the festering regret he's lived with from the moment he walked out your door. He isn't good enough with words to explain how the minute he was heading away from you all he wanted to do was to turn back. How without you the world was drained of its vivacity, its color. He trapped himself in a gray existence of his own making and now his escape lies solely in your hands.

You breathe in and out, taking a moment before you respond.

"You did hurt me. Badly. But…." You take a second, searching for the right words. "I could have helped prepare you for what it means to be with someone like me. It was so much to ask of you to just be ok with your life suddenly being turned upside down. For that, I'm sorry."

Silence grows between you, thick as brambles and just as thorny.  Neither of you can meet the other's gaze. It hurts, every second that ticks by without a word. Neither of you knows what to say, neither wants to leave. It is Leonardo who finally clears his throat, a throat where so many words are bottlenecking in their fury to get out.

"I'll leave you in peace then." 

The words are clipped, his accent thick as emotion chokes him. The final, tenuous connection between you is close to crumbling. He's about to turn away when one word shoots straight from your heart like a rocket.

"Wait!!"

He freezes, his sunrise gaze locking with yours. Dare he have hope…..

The minute you start towards him he rushes to meet you.

And then you're in his arms and your cheeks are wet and he's holding you so tightly your ribs feel crushed but it doesn't matter because he's turning and turning, the world is spinning, your heart is rising light as a feather, and then your feet touch the ground again and he's showering your face with kisses, painting you in his love, holding the back of your head, whispering your name breathlessly over and over and over, a song, a declaration, a prayer.

You hold on to his neck, your laughter as bright as sunlight across the waves, returning his kisses with ones of your own, all over his beautiful face, kisses pulsing with hope, with desire, with promise.

He leans back, lowering his mouth to your ear and whispers. His words engrave themselves onto your heart and you pull away to answer him the only way you can answer something like that: with a kiss deep as the sea, tender as the night.

You've found each other again. And you'll never again be parted.

(What did he whisper? This fic is acrostic so check out the first bold word of every section) 💜

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen leonardo #leonardo da vinci #celebrity au #hollywood au #soulmate au #artist au #different universe same love ccc #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #otome fanfic #violettwrites

[xxsycamore]

Hello great idea you had for our challenge if I may can I have Comte x Leonardo with the prompt Office AU ?

Thank you have a wonderful day 🙏😊

Glad that you like the idea!! 🥺 You too have a lovely day & enjoy the business daddies~

[ 🌈 part of the character x character or genderbent!character x mc requests🌈 ]

For Different Universe, Same Love content creation challenge, hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and me.

𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐔┅┅┅Leonardo x Comte (slightly suggestive)

𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞

"Tsk, Leonardo. Feet off the desk, please."

"You're not my boss."

It's practically true. After the company merged, Germain & Da Vinci's legal CEO is no other than Leonardo himself - for better or for worse. The family-owned business that Leonardo inherited came in a package deal with all its complicated management that dear Comte, the vice-president, was ready to shoulder as a part of his secret deal with Leonardo. The guy is just not fit for a boss; or so he claims.

"I suggest we leave those formalities in the office. You surely know what day today is, signore CEO?"

Leonardo has to briefly spin on his office chair to reach for the small calendar on his desk and move the date to what he assumes it might be, in order to get an idea of what's so special about today. It's a whole miracle on itself that he can find said calendar among the mess that his desk is, seeing that he'd once again dismissed the secretary before she could do her job.

"I saw Dazai by the coffee machine wearing his kimono ... Casual Friday... July 7th." The confident guess is accompanied by a snap of his fingers. "What is July 7th?"

Comte sighs, visibly disappointed by his antics and the fact that he'd forgotten. It's better to show than tell.

Like a magician performing for his one-person public, all it takes is a few ministrations of Comte's capable hands to undo and shrug off both his business suit and diligently ironed black shirt to reveal...another shirt underneath. Short-sleeved. Palm-tree printed. Hawaiian.

"Vacation. That's what it is. Our flight is in 5 hours, I believe you're clueless about this too."

It's good that office chairs are no good for attempting to balance them on two legs. Leonardo would've found himself on the floor. NOONE in team meeting would believe him about this. At least he's able to shake off the surprise pretty fast.

"Well, heh. Guess I need the holiday if my head is such a mess, huh?""

Comte's gaze softens, because, that's actually something he can't argue with. Managing the company aside, Leonardo works hard on the research front to better the formula passed down in his family business. That's always been what the genius wanted to do.

"Nice shirt, by the way. You got one my size?"

Comte's soft chuckles soundtrack his approach to the desk and die down to a small humming noise by the time he arrives at Leonardo's side. A slender finger nudging the first button of his shirt - the first buttoned one, anyway - until it slowly, annoyingly slowly comes undone.

Leonardo moves in for a kiss, but the other party withdraws all too fast.

"I might just have one your size. But I told you. Feet off the desk first."

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @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 @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @thewitchofbooks @rhodoliteschaos Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen #cybird #otome #different universe same love ccc

[nightghoul381]

Captive Heart- Silvio Ricci x f!Reader

Finally decided to jump into content creation and this contest inspired me to do so... thank you @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady. This ended up being much longer than I had intended and I had even more ideas, so let me know if you're interested in reading what happens after the end--

Day 1 ~ Mafia AU Pairing: Ikemen Prince: Silvio x f!Reader Overview: Held captive by the mafia, there's no reason you should be feeling this way. In fact, you should hate him, but something about him makes your heart race. Type: Fluffy Angst? Some spice at the end Length: almost 4k

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

I jolted awake, feeling a tight grip on my wrists.

The room was dark, only a small sliver of light snuck in under the door. I was just barely able to make out that I was in some sort of small bedroom. My arms were shackled to the chair that I found myself in, and I could feel my panic starting to escalate.

What the hell? Where am I?

The last thing I remembered was walking home from work, and then out of nowhere I felt a sharp pain in my thigh, my head began to spin and I dropped to the ground.

“Hello!” I shouted. “Anyone want to fill me in on what’s going on here?!” My panic was turning into anger as I realized this likely had to do with my father’s debts.

He had recently started reaching out more and more frequently, asking for money again. I knew he had to be in trouble because he had been calling me from several different numbers, and never spoke for very long.

Now the only question was who did he owe?

I’m completely screwed aren’t I?

Suddenly I heard loud footsteps approaching the door. I could hear the sound of keys jingling as the locks were released one by one.

The door flew open and a light switch was flicked on, temporarily blinding me.

“Welcome to the land of the living, Sleeping Beauty.”

A tall man with pale silvery hair entered the room, closing the door behind him. His bright cerulean eyes sparkled with amusement at his own quip as to stared down at me.

“Can you please just tell me what’s going on here?” I asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

“You sure are demanding for a captive.” The man scoffed, tilting his head to the side, revealing a streak of dark hair amongst the silver strands.

Oh, no. Please don’t tell me you’re who I think you are…

The haughty look on his face and the bright golden ring glittering on his finger. There’s no mistaking it…  He’s definitely Silvio Ricci. The Ricci’s are known for being one of the most powerful families in the city. Their wealth allowed them to have their hands in most of the businesses that were running anywhere near here, legal, and illegal. From what I had heard, Silvio was a clever, conniving, and shrewd negotiator, not to mention incredibly handsome. There was no way I would be talking my way out of this.

How much did my father owe them?! There’s no way he’s going to have enough money to pay for my release!

“You’ve got daddy to thank for this situation, princess.”

“I gathered that much. There’s no other reason for me to be locked up in a tiny room…” I spat.

Silvio shook his head and continued, crossing his arms. “I guess it must be easier to trade in your daughter than to come up with the money you owe.”

Wait, what… Trade in?!

“You mean I’m not just being used as a hostage for ransom?” I squeaked, my mind reeling from the severity of the situation.

“Apparently, someone thought it was a fair trade. I don’t see how you could possibly be worth the four million your father owes, but now I’m apparently stuck dealing with you so you had better be worth my time.”

I watched as a dark scowl appeared on his face, his intimidating aura becoming suffocating.

“W-what exactly do you mean ‘stuck dealing with me’?” I choked, cursing myself for how weak I sounded.

“I mean that you’re my problem now and I intend to make sure that you’re worth the money we lost.”

My head was spinning as my gaze dropped to the floor. I couldn’t seem to make complete sense of the situation. Had my father seriously told them to take me as repayment for his debt? I didn’t think the mafia accepted people as payment.

I felt my face grow hot as my lips twisted into a pained grimace.

“Listen, princess, I don’t like this any more than you do.” He sighed, uncrossing his arms, and pushing off from where he was leaned against the wall.

His long legs quickly closed the distance between us, his fingers tilting my face up to look him in the eye.

“But, it is what it is, so, looks like you’re my property now.”

I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips, my eyebrows knitted together in anger. I opened my mouth to retort, but the fingers on my chin snapped my mouth closed again.

He grinned, clearly the statement had been meant to get a reaction out of me.

Suddenly I felt his hands drop to my arm. My body instinctively moved to jerk away, but the restraints on my wrists kept me in place.

He slid his fingers down along my skin, causing goosebumps to rise in response.

I felt my heartrate pick up…

…Please don’t tell me he thinks I’ll prove I’m ‘worth the money’ by taking advantage of me…

I closed my eyes, steeling myself to attack if I needed to.

He’s close enough that if I jerk forward a bit, I should be able to smack his head with mine… And my legs are free, so I can always use that…

While I was thinking, his fingertips brushed against my wrist and I heard the telltale jingling of keys.

“You’re not gonna try anything, right princess?” The soft whisper brushed past my ear, startling me into opening my eyes.

Silvio’s face was much closer, and I felt humiliated as a gasp escaped my mouth. My face felt hot as he looked me directly in the eye. My heart was racing and I tried desperately to ignore the heat that was pooling in my belly.

I am NOT attracted to this man.

“It wouldn’t do me much good, now would it?” I replied, managing to keep my voice steady and dropping my gaze to where his hand rested against my wrist.

“Heh, smart girl.”

I held my breath as I felt the restraint drop from one hand and then the other, finally letting it out as Silvio took a step back, rising back to his full height.

“You get to stay in this lovely room for now, so go ahead and make yourself comfortable. There’re clean clothes in the armoire.” He explained as he headed out the door.

“Oh, and get some rest, you got a busy day tomorrow.” He added, flashing a smug grin before closing the door behind him.

I sank back into the chair, rubbing my wrists. My heart finally started to calm down, allowing me to fully grasp the situation.

How the hell can I get out of this? And why did he have to be so damn attractive?

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

I woke with a start at a loud series of knocks.

“Miss, I am going to open the door, please make sure you’re decent.”

I heard the soft voice calling through the door and quickly sat up in the bed. I had fallen asleep almost immediately last night that I hadn’t even taken the time to get changed out of my clothes.

“Oh, um… come in?” I muttered, getting to my feet as the person behind the door pulled it open.

“Hello miss, my name is Carlo, I work as Mr. Silvio Ricci’s direct assistant. He has requested you to join him for breakfast.”

A young man with short, curly black hair peeked into the doorway, giving a small nod of greeting.

“Hello Carlo… would I have a chance to get cleaned up and changed before having to deal with him?” I muttered, my irritation from the previous night creeping back into my mind.

“I can allow you a few minutes to get changed, but Mr. Ricci isn’t exactly a patient man…”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I nodded and waited for the sound of the door latching before darting over to the armoire and pulling open the first drawer.

My face heated as I saw the assortment of revealing lacy undergarments that filled the space.

Did he not bother providing normal clothing?

I quickly pulled open the other drawers and found an assortment of skirts in one, and an array of nightgowns and lingerie in another.

Why would he think I’d wear any of this?

Behind the door of the wardrobe, I found several luxurious dresses and blouses.

All of the clothing was far more extravagant than I had ever worn, and I was having a hard time trying to decide what would be casual enough for me to feel at least semi-comfortable in.

“Miss, we really should get going.” Carlo’s muffled voice shouted through the door.

“One more minute…” I replied, grabbing one of the blouses and a skirt, throwing them on haphazardly.

I noticed a small mirror on the wall beside the armoire and fixed my hair the best I could without any brush or styling equipment.

“Okay, I’m ready.” I called out, moving to make my way toward the door.

Moments later, I was seated in a grand dining room, a small plate of fruit and a muffin sat in front of me.

I realized how hungry I was and quickly devoured the muffin before starting in on the fruit.

I picked up a strawberry and popped in in my mouth before noticing Silvio’s gaze, his blue eyes trained on my mouth.

“Can I help you, Mr. Ricci?” I asked, swallowing the fruit, and returning his intense stare.

His eyes shot up to meet mine and I felt like I could see a faint pink hue rise on his cheeks before he scoffed and got up from his chair.

“I just wanted to let you know that you’re going to be accompanying me to a party tonight. I need a good distraction while I gather intel on a few of the people that’ll be there.” Silvio quickly began speaking, pacing around the room, and conveniently keeping his face turned away from me.

“You’ll need to wear something that’ll help keep their attention on you, so obviously I’m gonna have to help you with that…” He added, gesturing his hand at my body.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?”

He snorted, “It looks like you got dressed in the dark.”

I felt my face heat, crossing my arms indignantly over my chest.

“I didn’t exactly have very much time to get ready…” I hissed under my breath.

Once again, Silvio reached out and lifted my chin to force me to face him.

“If you’ve got something to say, princess, make sure I can hear it. I don’t like underhanded comments.” He whispered, his warm breath ghosting over my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I quickly uncrossed my arms and shoved him away from me, jumping up from my chair and putting some distance between us.

A slow grin spread on Silvio’s face, his eyes flashing with amusement at my glare.

“I’ll have an outfit sent to your room later. Carlo, take her to get washed up and then make sure to take care of her hair and makeup for tonight.”

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

I stared down at the elaborate dress that was laying on my bed.

The silken gown shimmered with a silvery-blue hue, and elegant jewels tastefully decorated the bodice. The skirt was composed of several layers of a shear gauzy fabric with interwoven glitter. A gorgeous silver necklace and earrings, inlaid with deep blue jewels accompanied the dress, along with some beautiful silver heels.

This whole outfit probably costs more than I would make in a year…

I stood in the middle of my room, hesitant to start getting dressed since that meant actually touching the dress.

“You about ready?”

I heard a voice shout through the door, spurring me to quickly leap toward my bed and grab the dress.

“J-just about! I’ll let you know when I’m finished.” I shouted, pulling the dress up quickly to ensure that at least my body was covered.

I managed to slip into the shoes and put the earrings on before the door burst open.

“I had the outfit sent up an hour ago, there’s no way you shouldn’t have been ready to go…” Silvio started, barreling into the room.

Looking down at my body, he abruptly cut himself off, his eyes widening.

I suddenly felt very self-conscious, and started fiddling with the cloth of my skirts. He made his way over to me, his gaze never once leaving my body.

I could feel my heartrate speed up as he approached. Something about his eyes seemed to betray a primal hunger.

Why am I enjoying this? Sure, he’s attractive, but he is probably the last person I want to make me feel like this.

I stubbornly resisted the urge to back away as he drew up close to me, close enough that I was able to smell the sharp, exotic scent of his cologne.

Dammit, why does he have to smell good too?

I mentally scolded myself when my breath hitched as his eyes finally met mine.

Silvio let out an irritated sigh.

“Where’s the necklace?”

I blinked in surprise.

“The what?”

“The necklace, you know the $40,000 necklace I sent up for you to wear? You’re not trying to pull some stupid con, are you? Thinking that when you’re through here you can pawn it off or something?”

“Of course not, I’m not that dumb. Why would I do anything to make my situation any worse than it already is?” I spat. I felt the tension in my body change from attraction to anger. “The necklace is on the bed.”

“Why isn’t it on your neck? Y’know…where it’s supposed to be?”

I want to slap you so hard…

My anger built and I somehow managed to keep it in check long enough to lie, hopefully convincingly.

 “I couldn’t seem to get the clasp to connect.”

Silvio clicked his tongue in annoyance, leaning to grab the necklace before deftly sliding it around my neck and clasping it.

“Let’s go.” He growled, grabbing onto my hand, pulling me out into the hallway with him.

As we made our way down to the party, I couldn’t help but think of how my skin had heated as his fingers brushed across the thin skin of my neck.

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

The night went nothing like how I thought it would.

Silvio kept me by his side the entire night, seemingly encouraging his fellow ‘businessmen’ to gawk and comment on my appearance, or at least he did nothing to stop them. I knew my face was painted red the entire evening, each lewd comment causing me to blush even harder.

I don’t even know when or how Silvio managed to get the intel he was looking for during the party, he never seemed to do anything to direct the conversation, and nothing I heard seemed to be of any value.

Oddly enough, as the night progressed, Silvio seemed to grow more possessive of me.  By midnight, he had started keeping his arm around my waist, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying the contact.

I swear I’m supposed to hate you… You’re keeping me locked up after all.

I kept telling myself all of the reasons why I couldn’t stand Silvio, but I still couldn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach from fluttering every time he flashed his bright smile or let out a laugh.

I felt his fingers slide down to my hip and dig softly into the flesh there, causing me to sharply inhale.

I need to calm down… I need to get away from you… you and your stupid, gorgeous face.

“Mr. Ricci, would I be able to go out to the balcony? It’s getting a bit warm in here under the lights…”

I tried to sound sweet and submissive, hoping that playing at being demure would get him to acknowledge my request.

Silvio gave me a quick glance. Noticing how red my face was, he let out a bark of laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, we can go outside for a second. Excuse us, please, gentlemen.”

He reached down and grabbed my hand, leading me through the crowd of people out onto a covered balcony.

The cool night air felt like heaven on my skin, my tension and embarrassment quickly fading as the calm darkness surrounded me.

I tried to pull my hand away and keep walking, but Silvio’s grip only tightened.

“You can let go now.”

“I know.”

I turned to him in shock as he began to pull me over to the far side of the space.

“What exactly are you doing?” I breathed as he backed behind a decorative pillar. I brought my free hand up to his chest, ready to push him away if he got too close.

I could feel the toned muscles underneath the white button up, and beyond that, I could feel his heart racing.

“I can’t stand you; you know that?” He whispered, dropping his gaze to my lips.

My face heated anew as his face grew closer to mine.

“M…Mr. Ricci?” I muttered, putting some force behind my palm resting on his chest.

“God, quit calling me that…” He groaned, closing his eyes. I swore I could see his face flushing too. “Say my name…please…”

I almost missed the soft request as it fell from his lips, but his words still managed to catch my breath.

“Um… okay… Silvio” I murmured hesitantly. I felt his grip on my hand tighten in response.

My head began to grow fuzzy as his scent enveloped me and his body came impossibly close to mine. I couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath, which in turn caused Silvio to inhale sharply.

“Are you enjoying this…?” He asked, bringing his other hand up to clasp the hand resting on his chest. His face drew even closer to mine and I quickly shut my eyes to attempt to calm my fluttering heart

Yes!

“Of course, not…” I lied, turning my head so that the warmth of his breath would stop ghosting over my lips.

“Are you sure?” He asked, releasing one of my hands to once again tilt my chin to face him.

The amusement in his eyes at my denial was nearly clouded over with a look of dark desire.

“I-I’m sure…” I murmured.

Dammit, why can’t I bring myself to get away from him? I know there’s no reason for me to feel anything for this man, but I can’t seem to stop my body from responding to him.

“You’re lying.”

Suddenly I felt his lips crash against mine, urgently kneading against the soft flesh. I felt all sense of reason leave my body as I melted into his kiss. I couldn’t help myself as my own lips became more demanding, my tongue darting out to brush against his lower lip.

I heard a soft groan as his own tongue plunged into my mouth, exploring every inch of it.

I felt the rest of his body press me against the wall gently, sending jolts of pleasure through me.

“Why do you have to taste so sweet…” Silvio muttered against my lips, his other hand releasing mine as he twined his fingers in my hair. I was unable to stifle a soft whimper as his grip tightened, causing a delicious pain in my scalp.

He shifted his position, tilting me slightly and causing me to reflexively grab onto his arms to steady myself.

Why is he doing this? Why don’t I want him to stop?

The wet sounds of our mouths seemed to echo off of the stone walls around us, causing me to grow even more hot.

“Silvio…” I whispered between kisses, trying desperately to swim back to the surface from the depths of desire I was drowning in.

He stilled at the sound of his name, pulling his head back to look at my eyes.

The intensity of his cerulean eyes sent a shudder through me. Our ragged breathing filled the air, neither of us daring to move. Time passed slowly and eventually we were able to calm ourselves enough to talk.

“What do you want from me?” I asked softly. I tried to force my voice to hold more intention as I added, “I thought I was nothing more than property to you…”

“Damn you and your smart mouth.” He growled, pressing a chaste kiss against my mouth to cut me off.

“You mess with my head… so bad… I’ve wanted to kiss you since I laid eyes on you…” He admitted, leaning his forehead against mine.

Wait…what?

Silvio’s hands dropped from my hair and he slowly backed away.

“I…. I don’t know why… I can’t seem to get you out of my mind.” He muttered, his face twisting in confusion.

“There’s no way that’s true…” I finally breathed. “You’re keeping me locked up here after all…”

“I never locked the door.”

“What?”

“Last night, when I left your room, I never locked the door. Hell, I never authorized them to lock you up in the first place, that was my brother’s idea. He was the one who accepted you in place of your father’s debt and decided it would be funny to ‘surprise’ me with you.” He finally explained.

“Once I saw you and you opened your damn mouth, I decided to play along with the captive thing… and then the way you responded to my touch…”

Silvio turned away, resting his hands along the railing of the balcony, dropping his head. “You coulda left whenever you wanted to… you’re free to go now, no one’s gonna stop you.”

I was shocked, the man standing before me was nothing like the Silvio I had experienced before. The haughty, aloof persona that he had been showing me all day had vanished and instead I was seeing someone completely different.

“You’re really serious… aren’t you?” I started.

“Yeah, I am. So go ahead and go.” He retorted, not bothering to turn as he waved his hand in the direction of the door.

“But what about my father’s debt…”

“Lady, are you stupid? Are you trying to talk me out of letting you go?” He snapped, spinning to face me. “If you want to leave, leave now… otherwise I’m not going to hold back from touching you more.” I thought I caught a trace of pain cross his face before being replaced with an angry looking scowl.

I walked forward, coming to a stop just short of Silvio’s figure.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Silvio let out an exasperated sigh.

“Obviously I don’t… but I’m not gonna force you to stay.” He retorted.

My heart began to beat faster. I felt my body beginning to grow warm again as I closed the distance between us and brought my face close to his.

I might regret this, but I really don’t want to fight my attraction anymore…

“Maybe I don’t really want to leave either… There’s something about you that makes me crazy too, and honestly I want to see where this will go…” I whispered, keeping my eyes trained on his.

A deep growl preceded the feeling of his lips colliding with mine. He aggressively thrust his tongue into my mouth, drawing a soft moan from the back of my throat. Silvio jerked back and shook his head. His eyes were blazing with desire.

“You gotta learn to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut… you’re giving me ideas and I’m barely hanging on to my sanity right now.” Silvio’s strained voice seemed to be deeper and lustier than before.

“What sort of ideas?”

I could sense that question caused the last thread to snap and Silvio pulled me into his arms, lifting me into a princess carry and bringing me inside the building.

I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of what was going through his mind.

Tonight is going to be fun…

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

Epilogue: Reader's POV Silvio's POV

#different universe same love ccc #ikemen prince #ikepri silvio #ikemen silvio #silvio ricci #ikepri #silvio x reader #ikemen prince fanfiction

[lorei-writes]

The Doors that Connect & Divide

Entrance: Arthur

Arthur x Reader Thriller Bookshop AU Magic AU Summary: A mist envelops your mind, your feet leading you down an unfamiliar path, all until you find yourself in front of a certain door. Its pull is near magnetic. What exactly have you done? Why do these men seem to know you? And most importantly: how to stop it? Only you can find the answers. Word Count Estimate: 1.4k Masterlist

My opener for Different Universe, Same Love 2 CCC by @xxsycamore & @queengiuliettafirstlady , using Day 4 and Day 6 prompts :)

First of many, I hope, but more on that here.

Content Warnings: blood

The mist from within your mind extends beyond the borders of illusory to become tangible, ragged shawl of heavy moisture reaching to embrace you by the waist. Your legs walk, although you cannot say you are aware of the act – your feet act of their own accord, treading cautiously over the wet cobblestone road, the three of them old acquaintances. Perhaps it is not their first independent escapade, a night spent exploring places that should not be explored. You do not know. You cannot know and you cannot find out. Your head floats in the greyish white, the only sound the clacking of your heels, the only sight that yellow light… It calls you, with the allure flame poses to a moth.

The mist from within your mind extends beyond the borders of illusory to become tangible, ragged shawl of heavy moisture reaching to embrace you by the waist. Your legs walk, although you cannot say you are aware of the act – your feet act of their own accord, treading cautiously over the wet cobblestone road, the three of them old acquaintances. Perhaps it is not their first independent escapade, a night spent exploring places that should not be explored. You do not know. You cannot know and you cannot find out. Your head floats in the greyish white, the only sound the clacking of your heels, the only sight that yellow light… It calls you, with the allure flame poses to a moth.

You stop at the threshold of what could be a house, a sole lit lantern the guard that watches your back. Wind raises goosebumps over your arms, a bronze trade sign shivering alongside you, its otherwise silent voice thundering complaints above your head. You turn your face towards it. A book and a pen, the sharp nib stabbed cleanly trough the cover. Your eyes narrow as you follow the embossed path of drops spilling down its spine. Unusual, you remark in your mind – but so your thoughts stop as your hand takes command. The door creaks open. Your feet step forward, despite any concerns you may have.

The inside of – what presumably is – the bookshop is dim, a lone candle sitting on top of a dusty counter, to the right of a hefty chunk of brass that is the cash register. You steal a glance at the long rows of shelves lining the red brick walls. Christie, you read, And Then There Were None. A chill runs down your spine. This book does not exactly whet your appetite, no, so you move further inside. The compulsion to explore is stronger than your desire to turn around… Whatever it is that you may be searching for, you are certain it is there, yours and merely waiting to be found.

Poe.

Mróz.

Nesbø.

As far as you can see, it is a mystery chasing a mystery, stories of crimes big and small residing over the shelves indiscriminately. A stolen fortune for adventure, murdered lover in romance section, monographs on analysing different types of cigar dusts as science – none, however, seem quite right. None until you can feel the hot breath spill against the shell of your ear, from behind.

“I’m afraid we do not sell any stories of Sherlock Holmes’ adventures, Ma’am,” a man whispers, a touch of mischief and promise colouring each of his words. “If that is what you’re looking for, of course.”

You spin on your heel, searching his face with bewilderment; he is handsome, that fellow, with tousled hair just short of black falling into his cerulean eyes. The collar of his white shirt has been loosened by a button, its sleeves have been rolled up – a worker, or so you’d like to think, but… He smiles at you that cheeky, cheeky smile, as if compelling you to look at him, your gaze setting over his cupid bow. You cannot focus, not now. The air is electric, causing your ears to buzz…

“Oh,” you let out, not too sure what else you could say. The guess, indeed, seems to have been correct, or as close to correct one as it could get. “That’s… a shame, really. Sir…?”

“Arthur. For you, there’s no need for formalities, luv.”

Your heart pangs.

Arthur takes a step towards you.

“Shall we play our game again?”

Your brows furrow as you attempt to move away. However, it is as if the shelves have slithered across walls the moment you took your eyes off them, a barrier constructed of intricately bound volumes and oak wood pushing at your back.

“I don’t understand, Sir. I don’t believe we have ever met before,” you bargain, hands hurriedly searching for anything, anything that you could use to ward him off. Your fingers slide across covers, nails clawing into leather spines – they refuse to budge, however, even as they help themselves to your blood. Arthur stares transfixed at the crimson stains, his pupils consuming nearly the entirety of his irises. He swallows thickly.

“You never do, darling. But it doesn’t stop you from coming back, does it?” he says, his voice coming out in a strained, breathy rasp. The tip of his finger taps against the mole on his chin, his throat bobbing as saliva is forced down its length. “You don’t remember how you got here nor where this here is, and by Jove, judging by your face just now, you don’t have the foggiest what you’re looking for either.

“But, that’s why we play, no?” Arthur continues, now with more ease. He rests his hands on his hips, drumming out an imaginary melody audible just for his ears. Tendons raise his skin with each drawn out note, the motion gradually turning rigid, as if he had to hold himself back. “So, let’s begin. And if you win? I’ll tell you a thing or two.”

The space between you is closed in one long stride of his legs. Arthur’s touch burns as his fingers curl around your wrist, as hot and unrelenting as a branding iron. You wonder, how come a human can be so warm, but your attention is stolen soon enough. You stare into his eyes, each a bottomless pit hidden below ocean waves. You may struggle to look away, both terrified and mesmerised by the promises lying in their depths, but your will is too weak to break his spell…

Arthur rests one of his arms next to your head. The room turns. The wall is now the floor, books just silently staring at your from above. Not a volume leaves its place in the rank, all defying gravity through perfect stagnation.

“You’re the pure-hearted sweetheart, the very apple of our community’s eye. A hard worker, so very honest and willing to give everybody a second chance,” Arthur narrates. The corners of his lips are upturned, although the expression hardly matches the threat, the warning, that lurks just behind his lashes. “And I’m one of the many poor sods who fell in love with you.

“But it was never real love, you see,” he picks up immediately, his breath hot on your cheeks as he leans into you. “It couldn’t be. We were literal words apart. But, ha, something happened between all of us. Something so frightening you could only run…” he trails off, the very tips of his unusually long canines pressing into his lower lip. “And run you did, oh so, so fast. You didn’t want to ever look back, but you had no choice…” he trails off to muffle the desperation with a choked-down laugh. “The question is: why?”

“Why?” you stutter out, your throat tying itself into a tight knot, larynx folding over itself just to squeeze through the thus created loop.

“Why would it all not be enough for somebody as beloved as you?” The remnants of Arthur’s smile fall to pieces. Pain flares and fades from his features as he fights to compose himself, his brows twitching and eyelids shutting despite his best attempts. His jaw clenches and his body trembles, shakes. His grip on your wrist tightens as if you could indeed escape the moment he stopped being cautious. You yelp, the scalding heat eating at your skin with newly discovered ferocity.

“I don’t know!” you shout, kicking at his legs.

“Of course, you don’t,” Arthur grinds through gritted teeth, betrayed and hurt, but not enraged. “And that’s why you can’t win this game.”

Arthur lets go of your hand – and somehow, you are drawn towards the edge of this world and fall. The air erupts with the flutter of not-quite-wings, walls being minced to naught. Your body goes limp, submerged in a mist of red dust and nameless spines filled with nothing but blank pages… And perhaps your purpose is to get lost between them, for your mind turns itself just as empty. It’s still too early to despair, however. It’s been only one game, the first of many… So rest, rest in this somewhere that is nowhere to be found, until you meet with the next of the faithful lovers you have cursed.

Tag List: @lancelotscloak @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @tele86

#arthur conan doyle #ikevamp arthur #ikevam arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp #ikevam #ikemen vampire #ikemen series #different universe same love ccc

[krys-loves-otome]

Different Universe, Same Love 2023: Mafia AU

"I'm glad you could make it, Detective."

Arthur took off his hat, gazing cautiously at the pair before him. Sitting the chair was Dorothea Reid, daughter of the local mafia baron, wearing the finest silks and satin money could by.

Standing beside her was Theodorus van Gogh, also infamously known for his mafia ties, but his brother, Vincent, was far more famously known for his paintings. What the two of them were doing here together was unknown.

"Pleasure, Miss Reid." Arthur said.

"Have a seat, Mr. Doyle," Thea's gloved hand welcomed him to the opposite chair across from her. "We have much to discuss. And, please, call me Thea. No need to be formal here."

Arthur sat as told, the leather cool against his legs. He glanced one more time at Theodorus, who remained standing at Thea's side.

"Let's get down to business, then."

-----

Welcome back to Round 2 of Different Universe, Same Love, hosted once again by the lovely @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady!

The main theme with this one was Mafia AU, but there is some bodyguard au hints with Theo standing with Thea sitting. Plus, it was an excuse to draw 1920s gangster attire, so that was fun.

Many thanks to Mo and Julie for hosting this event this year and I hope to see lots of new and fun things from other participants, both old and new!

#different universe same love ccc #ikemen vampire #ikevamp oc #dorothea reid (oc) #theodorus van gogh (ikevamp) #arthur's here too but I didn't draw him #he's the pov character looking on the pair #and he is technically featured #thea's arm pillow and Theo's tie and pocket square are all teal #kinda hard to tell with all the red going on #but it is teal so Arthur is represented here too #because I said so #day 1 down #six more prompts to go

[bubheart]

Have a roughy fan art of Theodorus. I didn’t post it on Monday bcs I hated it but it’s Thirstday now, baby! And I still hate it.😀

For: @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady ccc different universe, same love.

Prompt: D-1 Modern AU

Notes: Gonna post D-4 later today—

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire theodorus #ikevamp theo #Bub art #different universe same love ccc

[leonscape]

Different Universe, Same Love Content Creation Challenge

"So Close"

Day 5 - June 23rd- Soulmates AU | Check out the event here! Leon x OC (Irene); Soulmates finding their way back to each other doesn't always go as planned. Sometimes, they're so close, but they don't make it. Genre: Angst Word Count: 1926

Passing seasons, empty bottles of wine, my ancient kingdom came crashing down without you...

Marriage proposals are supposed to be happy and exciting. It was a life changing step for any couple’s relationship. But the smile never reached her eyes, even when her friends and family congratulated her on her engagement. 

Irene quietly sat by herself at the celebration dinner. Her fiancé next to her was conversing with everyone else. The excitement in the air never touched her and she tried to convince herself that it was the right thing to do. They’ve been together for years, and knew each other for even longer than that; marriage made sense for their relationship. But saying yes out of obligation probably might be a questionable decision.

Plans for the wedding went ahead. From the date, to the venue, and even the dress were decided. There was a lot more to be decided, but things were happening too fast. Irene stopped in front of the flower shop, dreading planning the flower arrangements. The scent of flowers wafted up into the air and cast a sense of relaxation.

It didn’t last very long as the man a few paces away was staring at her. His presence was intimidating; tall, dark hair, and a piercing golden gaze. She tried to ignore him and avoid trouble. But it wouldn’t last long because he approached her anyway. 

“Hello,” the man greeted. 

“Hi,” Irene responded. 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said. 

“What?”

“You’re my soulmate,” he told her. 

“Huh?” Irene’s confusion disappointed the man.

“You don’t remember?” 

“No?” 

“You still do that thing where you get shy and respond with one word,” he said. 

Irene wasn’t sure what to say. The man just smiled at her. It was full of hope but tinged in fear. “You really don’t remember?”

She bowed her head in an apology. “Sorry,” she mumbled. Irene walked away from the strange man but he grabbed onto her arm. 

The contact sent electricity surging through their veins. They both gasped from the sudden adrenaline rush coursing through their bodies. It took her breath away as she pulled her arm out of his grasp. The man was quick to apologize, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Her heart was beating so fast it was almost unsettling to listen to. It was the same with him; his heart was sent into a gallop at the first touch. Those eyes that he adored throughout their past lives together were wide with shock and mixed with a little curiosity. “Who are you?” she whispered. 

“I’m Leon,” he answered, a hopeful expression nestled itself onto his features. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” she muttered. “I’m Irene.”

“Yeah, I know,” Leon said with a breathy chuckle. His smile fell as soon as he saw even more confusion on her face. “I promise I’m not a stalker or anything, it’s just that you’re my soulmate so of course I know you because I remember you.”

“I think you have the wrong person,” she said. 

Leon shook his head. “I know it’s you. That spark we felt was evidence of it.” 

Irene knew it wouldn’t go so well if she encouraged or engaged in it; the ring on her finger suddenly felt really heavy. “Really? You sure it wasn’t like um… static electricity or something?” 

“I’m sure,” Leon affirmed. “There will always be little signs when soulmates reunite, just in case one or both loses their memories.”

“Do you really remember your past life?” Irene questioned him.

“Yup. We haven’t spent that many lives together, but I always remember one of them no matter what,” he proudly stated. “If you don’t remember then I’ll tell you about it.”

“I still think you’re mistaken.” 

He frowned, but he wasn’t about to give up. “Do you think it was a coincidence that we met here in front of this flower shop? You liked flowers in your past life too and I reckon your subconscious remembers because you stopped here to calm yourself down.”

“I was just admiring the flowers,” Irene said. 

“Okay well how about the birthmarks on your left shoulder? There are four little marks that form the shape of a diamond.” 

Upon hearing this, Irene looked over her shoulder and immediately felt self conscious. “I do wear a lot of things that would expose my shoulder and you probably saw it before.”

“This is my first time meeting you in a while. I haven’t seen you for so long,” he said. The words came out so easily, as if he was catching up with an old friend. “If you let me, I’ll tell you everything I remember about us.”

She hesitated as she fiddled with her ring. It felt like it was burning from how much she was fidgeting with it. “Okay… I’m willing to listen.” 

“Well, it all started in a small kingdom and I was a prince and you were a noblewoman. However, we weren’t exactly of noble or royal birth. We found comfort in each other and we understood one another,” Leon explained. 

Irene softly laughed, “You’re telling me about a fairytale?”

“What? No, it’s true. I was the fourth prince.” Leon pointed to his watch. “It’s 4p.m.” He pointed to the address of the flower shop they stood in front of. “There’s a 4 in the address too. Surely you’ve noticed things like this, right?” 

“Not really,” she nervously laughed. “If this wasn’t planned, then it’s only a coincidence.”

Leon held his hand out to her with a charming grin. “If you take my hand, your world will change forever. But the choice is yours.” 

She stared at his hand. Everything inside her was screaming, urging her to take his hand. But the metal of her engagement ring weighed her down. Her hands did stretch out to meet his, but she didn’t take his hand. Instead, she lowered his hand and apologized, “I’m sorry but I can’t do that. I’m already in a relationship with someone else.” 

Her hands were just as warm as he remembered, except it wasn’t his warmth to enjoy anymore. “Oh,” Leon said with a stoic expression. His face hardened before falling into a pained look of sadness. “So that’s why you don’t remember me. When you fall in love with someone else, you forget.” 

His confidence was gone, his charming smile vanished, and the warmth left his body. Despite that, he put on the happiest smile he could muster and laughed, “My apologies, I guess you were right, I do have the wrong person after all.”

“It’s okay. But I hope you find what you’re looking for.” 

Leon walked away with a bittersweet smile on his face as he mentally prepared himself for what was to come. 

After that, Irene never saw Leon again. They continued planning their wedding but Leon never stopped running through her mind. She had doubts about the marriage, but she made sure to never show them. After all, why would you give up a relationship that you’ve put years into just to satisfy a curiosity in the arms of a stranger? Returning to the flower shop to make arrangements was agonizing. She wasn’t by herself and she wondered what would happen if Leon came back. Would he sweep her off of her feet and take her far away from reality? Or would he only ruin the delicate balance of a healthy-on-the-surface relationship? 

Everyday was just going through the motions for her. And before they knew it, their wedding day had arrived. The bubbling pit in her stomach worsened as time went on; she could hardly sit still while getting her hair and makeup done. 

The pain worsened, only it traveled to her head and started out as a dull pinprick. The music started and she mindlessly walked down the aisle by her father’s side. When she got to the altar where her fiancé was standing, the pain intensified into a burning sensation. Her head throbbed as she suddenly doubled over in pain. Memories of her past lives came flooding back and they were seared into her head. 

Dreams she had when she was a little girl were fresh in her mind. The dreams that she wrote off as ‘just a fantasy’ were real and he wasn’t lying after all. Everyone in attendance was alarmed at the commotion, but she knew what she needed to do. 

Irene got up and dashed out of the chaos she had caused and made her way to Leon. As if tethered by a string, or lured by a scent, something innate led the way. She instinctively navigated her way back to him as bursts of memories bombarded her mind. She laughed as funny memories came back to her, and she cried as the sad ones returned. “Leon!” she called out, gasping for air, unable to process anything else while being overwhelmed with so many emotions.

Leon had a small little home in a quiet part of town. The door was unlocked, as if the universe did it on purpose. Irene barged into the house without a second thought; the only goal on her mind was to find Leon. 

Fatigue caught up to her all at once when she found him laying down on the bed. His eyes were closed, his chest was still, and the silence was deafening. “Leon! Wake up!” she rushed to his side. But no response. Traces of tears ran down his cheeks like dried up rivers that had nothing left to give. “Leon, I remember everything!” 

Still nothing. Irene approached him and put a hand on his. His cold skin met her warm touch, but unlike last time, there was no spark to be felt. Shaking him awake did nothing and calling out to him was futile. “I remember, Leon. I remember everything, so please just wake up. I’m sorry for not believing you, but if you wake up I promise I will make it up to you.” 

She sank to her knees and began sobbing. Maybe he’d reach out to her to dry her tears, brush them away just like he’s always done in all of their lives together. But her tears remained untouched and gravity took over. “Please, Leon, just wake up. Just open your eyes, please? I’m so sorry, just come back to me, please,” she begged. But he never heard any of it. “We were so close this time, weren’t we? I know you’ve been waiting for me for so long. I’m truly sorry for making you wait.” 

An envelope on his bedside table caught her eye. Seeing as it was addressed to her, she eagerly opened it.

To my Dearest, 

I’ll be gone by the time you read this, but please don’t cry. It’s too upsetting to think about you crying without anyone there to comfort you. Maybe you can cry just a bit because I wouldn’t want you to bottle everything up, but don’t cry too much, okay? Don’t be sad too much either. You still have this life, and while I might not be there, you still need to live it to the fullest. I’ll be waiting in the next life, so don’t rush to get it over with. Take your time, however long that will be. I promise I’ll hurry to you when we meet again. 

–Leon

His handwriting never changed. He still wrote in his neat, bold cursive. She held the letter to her chest and softly smiled at his resting form. “It’s just like you to say things like these,” she said to herself. “I promise you, I’ll be the one reaching out to you next time.”

#different universe same love ccc #leonscape’s ikemen prince au #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince leon #ikepri leon #leon dompteur #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikepri fanfiction #ikemen prince oc #ikepri oc #ikemen prince irene

[fang-and-feather]

by  @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady

Day 6 - Magic AU and Day 7 - Arranged Marriage AU

Fake Promises, True Dreams

Ikemen Vampire - Leonardo x MC

It still feels so strange to write scenes without context like this...

AO3 Link / IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

The last thing Leonardo wanted from this marriage was to fall in love with his wife.

He had only agreed to this arrangement because he knew it wouldn’t last. She would stay only for a couple of months, because the laws of the magical government about peculiari like her forced her to get married and he could get a slight break from his family. Leonardo had no idea what she would do afterward, but law was never something he felt interested in understanding.

In the time they had spent together, they had grown close, though. She was a curious woman, both to pique Leonardo’s interest and to be interested in all the things he could teach her.

For Leonardo, it was fine that they would become friends, make each other’s time worthwhile, so they would have fond memories on parting. What he didn’t expect was that he would really fall in love.

As time passed and the day of their separation got closer, Leonardo found himself afraid to let go of what he had with her. If only he could hold into it, keep their current arrangement, keep her close… but wouldn’t he always wish for more? Besides, why would she stay? This wasn’t her place.

But strange as it would seem, the closer she was to finally be free of this charade they were playing at, she got quieter, almost distant. Some days, if Leonardo didn’t go out of the way to look for her, they could spend the whole day without seeing each other, almost as if she was avoiding him.

So that night he sought her, finding her alone in the attic.

“Hiding from me, cara mia?”

“Oh, I know it is pointless to try to hide from you.” She gave a weak chuckle, not taking her eyes from the window.

“Then what are you doing here?” He sat in the space in front of her, but she still didn’t look at him, but Leonardo found it wasn’t because she was avoiding him. Although she was listening, her attention seemed focused on something farther than the city below.

“Just appreciating the view… I guess.”

“You guess?” Leonardo laughed. “Doesn’t look like you’re really appreciating it, though. I thought you would be happier that you’re almost free of me.”

“Free…” she whispered, lowering her gaze.

There was such a longing in her voice that Leonardo wanted to reach out through the little space separating them and comfort her. What was it she wasn’t telling him? Wasn’t their brief wedding supposed to be a stepping stone for her to find a happy life away from the authorities’ pressure?

“Cara… you never told me. Where are you going, after all?” Leonardo asked casually.

“Why? I’m honoring our agreement. Does it matter?”

Why did she sound like she was struggling? Like she would cry? Like he was pressuring her?

“Since when do you bother with why I want to know things?” He tried to keep the humorous tone, despite being more and more worried. It felt like the beat approach to her problem. “Besides, is it so strange to want to know what will become of a friend when they leave?”

Just as Leonardo expected, she finally looked his way for a moment, before looking away again with a heavy sigh.

“Can’t hide things from you either, can I? But thanks for trying to be discreet about it, though.” Silence lasted a little too long. Leonardo was sure she wouldn’t open up and was ready to change tactics when she spoke again. “The truth is, I never wanted to go, as much as I didn’t want to come here. My only options at first seemed to be a loveless marriage where I likely wouldn’t be respected, both because of how our society is built and because both mages and demi-humans tend to look down on peculiar humans; or a temporary one I could escape from. But my only actual escape is a kind of magical military camp. Not the best place to be, but better than staying in an unfortunate marriage. But what we have… is different than anything I expected, and deep down, I don’t want to go. But I can’t just stay and keep you bound to me.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did. It’s been fun living with you.”

“You say that now, but what about when you want something real and you’re still stuck with me? Besides, the longer we stay together, the closer we get, even if it is as friends, and the harder it will be to say goodbye.”

Leonardo reached out, placing a hand on top of her head.

“You always say I sacrifice myself for other people, but isn’t that what you are doing too? You like your new life here, yet you want to give up your happiness because you’re worried about mine. It doesn’t matter if you’re here or not, we’re already close enough it will hurt either way. So you don’t have to worry about me. Think about your own happiness for once.”

“When one has to sacrifice something, neither can be happy but, in my case, either I’m unhappy somewhere else, or both of us are unhappy here. Is there an actual solution?”

He smiled when she looked up at him again, softly messing her hair.

“Why don’t you give it a little more time until we find out? If it doesn’t work, maybe you can find someone else in the meantime. If I have to let you go, I want to know it is because it will make you happy, cara mia.”

“If I stay any longer, I’ll never be able to leave.” She looked at him again, her gaze wavering. “I know it isn’t right, it isn’t what we wanted but, at some point I really fell in love with you. I planned to go away without telling you, but now you’re asking me to stay and, as much as I want to, we weren’t supposed to fall in love and my feelings might get in the way of what we could have had as friends or…”

“Cara mia?” Leonardo called a little louder to stop her rambling, laughing at how she turned to him with wide eyes. “Deep breaths.”

She closed her eyes and did as instructed.

“Sorry.” Came the murmur afterward. “Forget that. I…”

Leonardo reached for her again, this time resting his hand on her cheek.

“You’re not the only one who broke our promise. I told you I wasn’t going to fall for you but, from the start, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. But I was also going to let you go, because I thought that was the best for you, but how can I when the future I thought would bring you happiness hurt you like this? When it would change the bright and gentle woman I came to know, and not for the better? I still think you should wait a little more and then find someone else but, if you can’t, then it is what it is. I’ll have to keep you as my compagna and keep making you happy.”

She smiled at him and Leonardo saw her look of hesitance change to one of determination as she placed a hand over his.

“Then I guess, as your wife, I’ll have to keep you just as happy. I’ll make this work. It won’t be easy for either of us, but it is worth the trouble. Despite the problems we’ll have to navigate through, it will only draw the best out of us, because we make each other complete. Isn’t it what love is about?”

“I can’t really deny it.”

With a soft smile, Leonardo pulled her for a kiss, the first of many to come.

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

#different universe same love ccc #ikemen vampire #magic au #arranged marriage au #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp mc #ikevamp #fang's writing #fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic

[badass-at-fandoming]

Day 4: Bookshop AU

What if Seth and Nodisha ran away to another country and started a donut bakery and bookshop? On a scale from Delicious to Delicious, wouldn't it be Very Delicious? I recently read a book called Can't Spell Treason Without Tea by Rebecca Thorne with this exact plot. Except the MCs were a sorcerer and knight. Who were lesbians. I loved it.

Plus! This prompt was a great chance to spotlight familial love. Nodisha and Seth have such a sweet, wholesome relationship. It's fun to imagine them thriving.

If you want to join this lovely AU challenge hosted by @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady, check out the prompt post here! The masterlist deadline is extended to July 23rd!

#ikemen #cybird #different universe same love ccc #text post #cybird ikemen series #cybird series #cybird otome #cybird ikemen #otome #dating sim #seth hyde #ikerev seth #ikemen seth #ikemen revolution #ikerev #nodisha hyde #do you like the very subtle anti-censorship message #lol

[aquagirl1978]

Bad Romance - Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: This is a surprise fic is for @vioisgoinginsane and based upon the drawing she made of Gilbert for my request HERE. It is also part of the Different Universe Same Love ccc hosted by @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady - thanks for hosting this wonderful event!

Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader

Prompt: Celebrity AU / Gilbert wearing your pink shirt

Tags: Fluff, slightly suggestive (but no smut)

Word Count: 1293

“It’s too early…” you grumbled, your forearm shielding your eyes from the sun’s bright early rays. Your head was pounding as if you were hungover, the result of a late night love’s passion.

Bolting up in the bed, you looked around the room – one that was not yours. Yes, that’s right, you quickly remembered. 

The concert. 

*****

Last night, your favorite band was performing at a local concert, and you and your best friend, Rio, were lucky enough to snag some hard to get tickets. The concert was amazing; the band sang all of your favorite songs, leaving your voice hoarse from singing along. The air was electric as you danced the night away with Rio; you were one with the music as its beat thrummed through your body. It was your first concert, and you knew no other could ever come close to this one. 

And then your life changed.

As you and Rio were leaving the concert, a man approached you. From the badge he wore on a lanyard around his neck, “Roderich” was part of the band’s crew, maybe a roadie. He handed you a ticket - a VIP pass - and told you how to get backstage. 

Like a fish swimming upstream, you pushed past the people leaving the concert hall, your knuckles turning white as you clutched the pass in your hands as you headed towards that secret place others only dream of. 

A gruff man guarding the door gave you a curt nod when he saw your pass; with an outstretched arm, he held open the door for you. No longer in Kansas, you crossed the threshold into the tiger’s den, and in a strange twist of fate, met Gilbert von Obsidian, the lead singer, whom you spent the entire evening with. 

*****

Thankful to find your body covered in a white button-down shirt, you glanced around the bedroom, looking for any sign of Gilbert. When it became clear that he was not in the room with you, you rolled out of the warm, plush bed and began looking for your belongings.

Strewn across the floor were clothes – yours mixed with his – discarded carelessly as you stripped one another bare late last night. You picked up Gilbert’s black jacket from the floor; holding it in your hands, your fingers traced over the lapels as you recalled your first kiss.

******

It was your first time riding in a limousine; with Gilbert seated next to you, everything felt like it was your first time. His hand was firm on your knee, his ruby-red eye locked on yours. He was so close, his scent was overpowering – a mixture of incense masking a faint medicinal smell. His lips so close you could feel his wintery breath on yours, doing everything in their power to send you wild with desire.

Your lips parted, and your eyelids drifted closed, anticipating his kiss. His lips were cool against yours as his long fingers wrapped in your hair, your fingers clutching his lapels as he deepened the kiss. 

It was the perfect kiss, the kind that you never wanted to end. Gilbert himself was addicting, intoxicating; all it took was one kiss, and you were his.

So naturally, when he suggested going back to his hotel room, there was no way you could refuse.

*****

The soft sounds of music drifted into the room, a gentle reminder that you were not alone. Realizing you couldn't hide in the bedroom all morning, you headed towards the source of the music – faint at first, but growing louder as you approached the kitchen. 

"I want your love, and I want your revenge

I want your love, I don't wanna be friends

J'veux ton amour, et je veux ta revanche

J'veux ton amour, I don't wanna be friends."

You slowed your steps as you stood hidden in the hallway, listening to Gilbert sing along with the song on the radio. The dance-pop tune was so different from what you were used to hearing him sing, and if you didn't know any better, you might have thought it was someone else singing.

But that voice. No one – absolutely nobody else – had a voice quite like Gilbert’s. Laced with a seductive edge, there was a light and airy quality about his voice that made it feel otherworldly, as if he was an elf. 

Looking in the large mirror in the hallway, you ran a hand through your hair, the bright bite mark on your neck catching your eyes as you fixed your bed hair. Taking a deep breath in, you entered the kitchen, your heart still pounding with nervous excitement.

Just a few steps in, and you stopped dead in your tracks – Gilbert, still singing along to the radio, looked quite domestic as he made breakfast. 

He was also wearing the pink shirt you were wearing last night. You know, the one you were looking for on the floor covered with all the other articles of clothing discarded during your night of passion. 

“Good morning,” he said with a wide smile. “Do you like blueberries? I’m making waffles.”

Your jaw moved; the ghost of the word babygirl wanted to escape but faded into thin air. Nodding, you pointed to his chest.

“That’s my shirt you’re wearing. Why….”

Gilbert put down the container of blueberries he was holding. “Oh, this?” he replied, looking down at the shirt he was wearing, and then laughed. “I stepped out into the hallway to get the newspaper. I didn’t want to go out without a shirt, and this shirt was the closest. Sorry if I stretched it out.” 

Heat rose to your cheeks as Gilbert lifted his arms and quickly pulled your shirt off and over his head. He tossed it to you casually like it was a ball and not precious fabric that had hugged his body; thankfully, your reflexes were sharp, and you caught the shirt in one hand. You looked down at the soft pink fabric cascading through your fingers as you held it gingerly as if it was a treasured memento. But then something inside you nudged you to look up. Your gaze lifted slowly, following Gilbert’s figure, your eyes lingering on where his waist narrowed, the vision before your eyes at this early hour doing many things to you. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, interrupting your reverie.

“Just water, thank you.”

Gilbert walked over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water; his fingers grazed yours as he placed the bottle in your hands, his light touch sending shivers down your spine. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, his claret-colored eye locking on yours before returning to the waffle iron. Opening the iron, he removed the warm waffles, placing them on two dishes and handing one to you. 

“It smells good,” you commented as you watched him pick up a strawberry. With a small knife, he made a few cuts before placing a berry rose on your dish, a boyish smile gracing his beautiful face. 

As you took a seat next to Gilbert, you weren’t sure where this day would lead you. The chances were high that after today, you might never see Gilbert again – he was a famous rock star on a concert tour, and you were, well, a student at the local university. But as you sat and chatted over breakfast, you realized that he wasn’t this unreachable celebrity; he was just a guy named Gilbert. 

And this guy named Gilbert, the way he looked into your eyes gave you chills. The good kind of chills that you wanted to feel every day for the rest of your life. The kind of chills that gave you a small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could be more than just friends.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @violettduchess @umi-adxhira @bellerose-arcana @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage

#different universe same love ccc #ikemen prince #ikepri #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert #ikemen gilbert #ikepri fanfic #ikemen fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

[violettduchess]

I am so in love with your Comte domestic au, I have read it so many times! What about a continuation for au week? It would have to be the "free space day," so if you have something in mind, obviously disregard this. But what about more domestic with Comte and his family spending time together? Or maybe for the soul mate au, it could take place before your other au fic, where Comte finds his soul mate? Oooh, or it could still be soul mates, but the kids are grown, and he's reflecting on big moments they've spent together?

Anyway... obviously, just delete this if you're not taking requests anymore or if you don't wanna use them. Sorry this got so long.

A/N: Hello anon! Here you go! This is a Soulmate au explaining how Comte met the mother of his children from this Domestic Bliss au from last years event! (and to the anon who asked for Comte and Bookstore au and the anon who asked for Comte and Coffee shop au....I combined them all 💜)

An entry for @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady 's Different Universe Same Love CCC

Comte x female reader

WC: 1349

Inked into the skin of your right shoulder, your black and white tree tattoo reaches towards the sky with its bare, spindly branches that echo the gangling shape of spider legs. You chose the image after going for a walk on a stark winter's morning. Something about it resonated with you, echoing the vacuity of your lonely heart.

You’re shelving the latest bloodsucking Young Adult novel, breathing in that delectable new paper smell, when a voice rich as caramel, interrupts, asking if you could please direct him towards the foreign literature. You turn to find yourself looking into arresting, honey-colored eyes set in a face that jerks your heart awake from its lonesome stasis. It begins beating a lively, almost frantic rhythm in your chest.

You give him directions even as you try to fit all the pieces of this beautiful man together in your mind: wavy dark blond hair, slanted cheekbones, lips that smile easily and with such warmth. He thanks you but doesn’t move. Neither do you. The moment your eyes met, something took its first breath, something cocooned deep in the chambers of your hearts and sparked to life by your connection, like the fertile meeting of sunlight and water. 

A few minutes later you have a date to meet for coffee.

It feels so much larger than it sounds. 

That night, as you lay in bed, dreams inhabited by a man with desert eyes, your tattoo changes. The branches are peppered with small, newborn leaves the color of limes. Fragile. Delicate. Hopeful.

The coffee shop is small, a hidden gem tucked into a side street you’ve never ventured down. You arrive too early, a habit you usually pride yourself on but now is causing waves of anxiety to rush through you. Will you look too eager? Who cares because it is truth. You are eager. You are so very eager to see Comte again.

And then, as if responding to the siren call of your longing, he appears in the doorway, gilded in sunlight. He looks damn near angelic as he enters the shop, a place that suddenly seems so mundane with its walls covered in glossy photos of coffee beans and faded tile floor. 

He joins you, ordering tea, so much more civilized than your giant cappuccino topped with cinnamon and chocolate dust. Your eyes meet his and you flush, looking away. What now? Panic rears its ugly head, trampling the excited beat of your heart into the ground.

“Is that the latest X. Sycamore novel?” He notices what you have laying casually on the table by your drink, the beautiful indigo cover and gold lettering. It may be old-fashioned but you are a lover of books you can wrap your hands around, covers you can touch. Someone who has a tactile love of words. You nod. “Do you like her work?” In answer he reaches behind him, into the pocket of his beautifully-tailored beige coat and pulls out the exact same book.

From there it’s easy. So easy. One cappuccino becomes two. One cup of tea multiples like flower buds in spring time. Conversation flows like a current between you, rife with warmth and crackling with soft electricity. You decide you can’t pinpoint the exact color of his eyes because they are always changing. The brightness of Goldenrod when he is happy, dark as pyrite when he’s contemplating, animated as the sun’s shimmering caress of the sea when excited. You learn all his facial expressions and soak in the sound of his voice, burying them deep inside your heart to recall at any time.

When he checks his wristwatch and sighs, you sense your time together nearing its end. You stand abruptly, a motion spurred by the wild desire to beg him to stay and the need to act as though you are perfectly fine with him leaving. Unfortunately you knock against the table, sending your half-full cappuccino toppling just as he’s gathering his coat. Your heart, so light and breezy, turns to stone like a gargoyle in sunlight, sinking down into the twisting pit of your stomach. The stain across the expensive wool looks garish, something out of a horror movie.

At first he refuses your offer to pay for the dry cleaning but you are insistent and he relents. You feel oddly giddy. If the price of seeing him again is a cleaning a soiled coat, then you are willing to pay it. Gladly.

That night, your tree changes yet again. The branches are fuller, anointed in thick, lustrous green. Leaves unfurl themselves towards an invisible sun, towards a welcoming sky.

You hold the freshly cleaned jacket as if it is a child in your arms, tenderly so as not to wrinkle it. The garment bag is a soft blue, a stark contrast to the dark, rich colors of the mansion you find yourself walking through. If elegance were to fashion itself into a home, this would be it. Your heels click across the polished wood as the butler leads you to where Comte is waiting for you. His library.

The garment bag is removed from your arms and he is speaking in that sonorous voice as he greets you but you are not listening. Your mind is trying to soak in the sight of the shelves, rows and rows of shelves, towering above you to meet the breathtaking molded ceiling. Surely this is heaven. Surely he is its keeper.

His hand on your shoulder steadies you, brings you back down to earth, to his warm gaze and the scent of sandalwood. Would you like a tour? You nod and his hand slips down until it takes yours, gentle at first, questioning. You tighten your grip, wordlessly telling him yes, this is ok. Yes you want this. His exhale of relief is audible. 

“Let’s begin over here, with Molière.”

That night, your tree has added hundreds of tiny buds clustered throughout its green branches. Each flower bud a tiny pink universe waiting to be born.

He invites you to the cinema where you hold his hand, fingers interlaced as you lose yourselves in the story playing across the screen. The dream ends when the lights come on, scattering the wispy remnants of magic the movie spun around its audience.

You step out of the theater, hands still clasped together and stop as you notice the light haze of rain that has started falling. You glance at Comte. The bus stop you need to get to is several blocks down. He squeezes your hand. 

"It doesn't look so bad, chérie. Shall we?"

You agree and together step out into the cool rain. For the first minute it really isn't so bad. The rain dampens your clothing, kisses your skin gently. But after that, it's as if the clouds decided the warm-up is over. The storm gathers its thunderous drums and flashy lightning guitars and the real show begins.

You jump as his arm gathers you close against his side for protection, a bulwark in the sudden downpour. Together you search for shelter through the blur of rain. It only takes you a second to remember where you are. 

The oversized awning of the bookstore shields you from most of the heavy rain. You turn within the circle of Comte's protective embrace, your gaze slowly tracing a path up the pale column of his throat, the angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips where it stops, caught there like a thread on a nail. Something warm is unspooling within you, lifting you up to meet him as he leans down, both of you moving in unspoken tandem. Your eyes flutter closed and the world shrinks down to the feel of his lips on yours, cool with rainwater. 

The moment your lips touch, you glow with the warmth you have felt in his presence from the beginning. It plunges into the furthest corners of your heart, taking root. As he cradles your head in his gentle hand, his mouth moving over yours, seeking and finding, you know. 

You know. 

You know. 

He is yours, now and forever.

That night, you sleep in Comte’s strong arms. Your tattoo is in full bloom, a symphony of soft, pink cherry blossoms, a timeless concert of exquisite joy and breathtaking tenderness. A testament to the love of two souls, meant to be.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikemen vamp #ikevamp #ikevamp comte #comte de st germain #soulmate au #coffe shop au #bookstore au #different universe same love ccc #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfiction #violettwrites

[xxsycamore]

Update: requests closed!

🌈 Ikemen mlm and wlw requests OPEN!🌈

It's still pride month, the temperature just reached 38° at my place and I have the afternoon off, so while I'm stuck indoors let's try doing a different round of requests this time!

I'm joining the fun of Different Universe, Same Love 2 CCC hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and me, and I think of writing ficlets (200-500 words) for all 13 AUs of the list!

MLM - Character x Character ; WLW - MC X Genderbend!Character

^ Please only request for one of these two categories!

Ikemen Revolution and Ikemen Vampire only.

Character ship examples: Comte x Leonardo; Arthur x Theo; Napoleon x Jean... Ray x Fenrir; Lancelot x Ray; Sirius x Harr; Dalim x Seth... You can send every two characters that you ship together, no matter how niche your ship is. This is your chance. The only rule is don't request incest!

Genderbend characters will be paired with the canon MCs only!

NSFW is allowed. (MDNI)

Refresh this post (not a reblog of it, because those are not updating the changes made in the original post) before sending your requests to check the availability! Once a prompt is taken, I'll cross it out.

AU prompts:

Bodyguard AU Genderbent!Oliver x MC

Mafia AU Napoleon x Wellington

Angels and Demons AU Theo x Shakespeare

Pirate/Mermaid AU Napoleon x Jean

Social Media AU Genderbent!Fenrir x MC

Coffee shop AU Edgar x Zero

Flower shop AU Genderbent! Seth x MC

Celebrity AU Genderbent!Zero x MC

Bookstore AU Isaac x Arthur

Forbidden love AU Jonah x Lancelot

Soulmates AU Napoleon x Jean

Office AU Leonardo x Comte

Circus/Magic AU - Napoleon x Genderbent!MC

FREE PROMPT - TEACHER AU Harr x Sirius

Dialogue prompts: Add one to your request if you want to. These can be used more than once, I won't cross out anything.

"Him? Are you kidding me? He's not even my type!"

"We didn't even exchange numbers! I'm such a fool."

"We should have never met."

"Ah, it's you again! Do you come here often?"

"I'll be waiting at our spot. Make sure no one sees you."

"Promise me we will always have each other."

"Maybe we'll meet again someday."

Happy Pride, everyone! I'm excited to see what comes into my inbox! ❤🧡💛💚💙💜

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen #ikemen series #cybird #otome #different universe same love ccc #ikeseries

[nightghoul381]

Another entry for @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady's Different Universe Same Love challenge.

It's my first time drawing one of the ike boys so I hope it looks close enough!

Ikemen Prince Leon in the Flowershop AU

#ikepri #ikemen prince #leon dompteur #ikemen leon #ikemen prince leon #different universe same love ccc #ikepri leon

[lorei-writes]

Miss Fortune

Mitsuhide x MC Mafia AU Bodyguard AU Action; Fluff-adjacent; Fake Relationship Word count estimate: 1.7k

Oh my, did this get out of hand a couple times. Written for Different Universe, Same Love 2 CCC by @xxsycamore & @queengiuliettafirstlady <3

Content Warnings: gun mention, blood mention

“It is instrumental to act in accordance with your predicament, Ma’am.” The heels of Mitsuhide’s dress shoes hit the golden yellow tiles, each individual tap climbing up the cobalt walls of the narrow corridor located somewhere deep within the entrails of the auction house. His footfall split into more of its kind, the thus created echo mingling with a much similar, although fainter, sound. There was nothing in that space but him and the woman whose hand he clasped, the cascade of scarlet silk running down the length of her legs… and perhaps the curious camera lenses lurking up above. Never once slowing down, Mitsuhide met the artificial eyes with his own. “And now your predicament demands,” he continued, “you do not leave my side, Miss Fortune.”

Auctions were hardly an unusual occurrence in the world of wealth, much less in its darkest corners. Between vintage cars, works of fine art, chemical-induced sense of joy and exuberant (although fake) smiles, the list of items made obtainable with ostentatious amounts of money was beyond expansive – and even longer did it grow with but a handful of good luck. The very thing Miss Mai Mizusaki, the charm of the Oda clan, specialised in… Despite any objections to the fact she might or might not have had. She was, the one and only, Miss Fortune.

***

“It is instrumental to act in accordance with your predicament, Ma’am.”

The heels of Mitsuhide’s dress shoes hit the golden yellow tiles, each individual tap climbing up the cobalt walls of the narrow corridor located somewhere deep within the entrails of the auction house. His footfall split into more of its kind, the thus created echo mingling with a much similar, although fainter, sound. There was nothing in that space but him and the woman whose hand he clasped, the cascade of scarlet silk running down the length of her legs… and perhaps the curious camera lenses lurking up above. Never once slowing down, Mitsuhide met the artificial eyes with his own.

“And now your predicament demands,” he continued, “you do not leave my side, Miss Fortune.”

Mai nodded without a hint of delay and pressed a hand to her chest, her fingers tracing an outline of a miniscule box through the fabric of her gown. She let herself be led, her gaze trained on the man who played the role of her bodyguard – if she was to trust her luck, of course. For all she knew, the freelancing Silver Fox of the underground had quite a reputation to speak of… Not that she had got the taste of that. Yet.

Breath caught in Mai’s throat as her world spun, upheld on the very edge of the heel of her stiletto. Her eyes opened wide, the entirety of her vision being taken over by a certain thin smile. Her back pressed against the wall. Close. Much too close.

“Pray tell,” Mitsuhide whispered, his body leaning into hers, “what have you just done?”

“I don’t think I understand, Mister E,” she replied, hands firmly set on the lapels of his suit jacket… But he made nothing of it, his breath sowing goosebumps over the nape of her neck. Mitsuhide laughed a quiet, mirthless laugh.

“We happen to already be plenty suspicious as we are, Miss Fortune. Please, refrain from giving our dear auctioneers any reasons to send hounds after us. It would be most troublesome, I assure you.”

“Are you not doing just that?”

“I? No, not at all. After all, I am your lover, aren’t I?”

Mai swallowed thickly, strands of soft silver nearly tickling her cheek as he straightened his back. As if nothing had happened, Mitsuhide readjusted his tie.

“Now, shall we? We cannot exactly afford to loiter around.”

He offered her his hand.

And like a fool, she took it without a second thought.

They walked down the nearly endless corridor, slower now, the sounds of fervent bidding coming from both their left and right. Mitsuhide’s expression hardened, although to untrained eye, it would appear he remained rather relaxed, calm. He listened in closely to each distorted word that made it out of the auction halls, perhaps examining it, comparing it against the database of various voices stored in his mind – whichever the case, his eyes lit up suddenly. He pulled Mai forward, his arm hooking around her waist.

“Miss Fortune?”

“Yes?” she suppressed a stutter, hid it behind a poorly constructed smile. Mitsuhide shook his head. Truly, she should have refrained from emulating his craft, yet…

“Remember, you are my Miss E. For now, at the very least.”

Her lips parted, however, any words of protest Mai held at the moment withered just as soon as they had sprouted. The hall behind them opened. Clearly, his ears had picked up on things she couldn’t possibly have. For now, ‘at the very least’? she repeated in her mind, gazes of two – judging by their voices – young men drilling into the back of her head. No time to dwell on that… Do your thing, luck.

“Excuse me,” one of the men called.

Average, Mitsuhide surmised. “Is there any issue?” he replied.

“The woman with you. Who’s that?”

“Why, Miss E.”

“Missy? Missy who?”

“Miss. Miss E,” Mai corrected, with a pout. “Why do you even ask?”

“You’ll have to come with us. We’ll let you go once we find Miss Fortune.”

Mitsuhide stepped in front of Mai, a perfectly hair-raising smile on his face.

“And what gives you the authoritative power to demand that of a guest?” he inquired, his brows drawn close in a budding frown.

“The Boss –”

“Call your Boss and inform him you’ve detained Mister E and his partner. We shall talk after that.”

The men looked at each other, eyes opened wide at the brazenness of his tone. Nevertheless, their expressions faltered under his gaze, the newly emerged air of impatience urging them to act. They nodded at each other, one of them lifting a radio, when —

Mitsuhide wasted no time. Brass around his knuckles, he delivered a quick punch to the temple of the first man. He then turned swiftly, his other arm raised in a guard. Thud. His target hit the ground, but his eyes were already on the other hound, the man putting distance between them while reaching into his jacket.

“The door!” Mitsuhide called, dropping back to pull Mai along and rush them both into the nearest auction hall.

Mai held her breath. However, the bidding did not stop. Whether it was the acoustics, the commotion or the soundproofing of the space, that much was both unclear and irrelevant then. His arm around her shoulders, Mitsuhide ushered them past aisles of cushioned seats, the door snapping open behind their backs. Mai clutched at her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs with the enthusiasm of a toddler introduced to a xylophone, each of its beat falling within the realm of somewhat-melody-adjacent cacophony. However, the box was still there. In an attempt to calm herself down, she dared look around… Mai clung to Mitsuhide, too preoccupied with the grey irises following their path to even take note of the bloodied brass knuckles he still held in his hand.

“He’s here,” she hissed, a living mountain of a person raising from his seat.

“Lucky us,” Mitsuhide chuckled, but held her firmer than before.

They rushed towards the stage, curious heads of various Misses and Misters turning towards them as they nearly ran, Mai barely managing to keep up. Mitsuhide stole a quick glance across the room.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid your shoes are becoming a safety hazard.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Discard them,” Mitsuhide offered – and Mai obliged, satisfied with her newly regained agility.

The stage was there, as was the door right behind it. His hands on her waist, Mitsuhide hoisted her up onto the boards, following right after her. The world? What world. Too dazed to take note of anything, Mai put her trust in his hands, their joint fingers her lifeline, the only thing keeping her from breaking into panic in presence of the bullet that made it just past her head. The clamouring of her heart devoured the sounds, the only thing left silence – and his arms. Her body did move, she was aware of that much. However, it was very similar to what she assumed would be being a marionette, hoisted on strings and directed by somebody else… And hopefully, for she could only hope, the play would not involve any tragic plots.

Mai blinked, the corridor speeding past them. Mitsuhide ran, all the while carrying her.

“Fox?” she spoke, his original alias rolling off her tongue quite naturally, despite her strained voice.

“Put your arms around my neck, Miss Fortune.”

She did.

By the strange twist of fate, the – otherwise, very secure and clad in steel bars – window at the end of the staff passage was being replaced. Mitsuhide glanced over his shoulder one last time, an undercover-Kyubei-induced accident slowing the Tiger of the House of Kai. His lips formed a thin smile, thunderstorm clouding the inside of Shingen’s eyes. Perhaps, perhaps some other time, when somebody else guards the mouse, he will snatch away Nobunaga’s lucky charm and use her to his advantage. Not then, however, not from under his nose.

Mai clutched onto him as if he was her dear life itself. The very next moment, they leaped off the sill, straight into the river below them. The skirt of her dress fluttered, scarlet matching the hues of the bleeding sun, the last few rays of light dying her hair red, golden shimmer rousing within Mitsuhide’s eyes. They burned, they – the Icarus, the present their collapse… The water welcomed them in its fluid embrace, just the way they were, the cold shrinking the air residing in their lungs. Despite the discomfort of it all, they were safely out of the auction house. At last.

***

Silk clinging firmly to her skin, Mai dragged herself onto the shore, arms and legs barely complying with her wishes. A rat from sewers would be a less sorry sight than her, however, when she patted her chest and found the box still in its place, she did not appear to mind. To the opposite, in fact – she laid down, smiling eyes set on the stars above. Mitsuhide sat to her right.

“I take your objective has been accomplished,” he more so declared than asked.

“Boss will be pleased.”

A van pulled onto the side of the road. Mitsuhide turned his head to look, however, he needn’t have bothered, a familiar voice – shout – of his partner reaching his ears in a record time.

“Mitsuhide!” Hideyoshi cried. “It took forever to find you! Did you really had to jump into the river?! And the client… The client… Oh god, I will bring you a jacket to cover up, Ma’am, you’ll catch a cold otherwise. I’m so terribly sorry for all those misfortunes.”

Oh, if only he knew that that was exactly what Mai Mizusaki called her luck.

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#mitsuhide akechi #ikesen mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #different universe same love ccc #different universe same love 2 ccc

[krys-loves-otome]

Different Universe, Same Love: Bookstore AU

He's been like that for hours now… Should I call someone?

What do you do when your crush from class is sitting in your family bookstore, but he hasn't moved for hours? He was still breathing, pulse still seemed normal (though it was kinda freaky that he didn’t react to her putting her fingers on his neck). Houki tried calling his name several times and shaking his shoulder gently, to no effect.

Should she call a doctor? EMS? It didn't seem like a medical emergency when his vitals seemed okay. Maybe his dorm leader could help? She definitely wasn't prepared for this. Why did she have to be here by herself, today of all days? Stupid Cousin Jaiya for ditching her once their parents were out of town…

Taking in a calming breath, she touched Mitsunari on his shoulder once again.

"Mitsunari, I'm gonna go call Hideyoshi at the dorm. Just… just sit tight, okay?"

No reaction. Not that she expecting one, but she was hoping for some clue he was still on this plane of existence.

Well, she didn't have to wait long.

Before she could pull her hand away, something gripped her wrist, gentle yet firm. Houki looked down only to see his long fingers grasping her hand. His eyes were still glued to the book in his lap.

"M-Mitsunari?"

He didn't say anything nor did his face change. What was going on?

"Mitsunari, I need to go get my phone so I can call Hideyoshi. Can you please let me go?"

No response. And he still hadn't let go of her wrist.

"Please say something. You're scaring me."

Still no words out of him. Was she going to have to physically drag him so she could reach her phone, now seeming fathoms away at the checkout desk?

"Please… let go. I need to get my phone." She repeated.

Finally, he moved! Or at least his head was. Towards… towards her hand…

He…. He…

He kissed her hand. A sweet little peck, but a kiss nonetheless! Houki's cheeks warmed.

"Just one more paragraph," he said quietly. "Just one more, I promise."

Houki's entire face was on fire. Her crush just kissed her hand and had asked for another paragraph in a sleepy, husky voice. How on Earth are you supposed to react to that!?

------

My entry for the Bookstore AU for Houki and Mitsunari! Houki's family owns a bookstore and she crushes on a guy in her classes, Mitsunari. Imagine her surprise when he just shows up one day, the very day her parents are out of town (and being ditched by her cousin) and just stays for hours reading away?

In reality, he overheard her talking to her cousin (since they all go to the same college) about the 'rents going away for the week and (knowing Houki's cousin's reputation), he decides to keep her company.

An idea sounding sweet on paper, but in reality he falls into his reading trance and… yeah.

He's smart and sweet in some ways, others… not so much.

Thanks again to Mo (@xxsycamore) and Julie (@queengiuliettafirstlady) for hosting this event! This one was really fun!

#different universe same love ccc #ikemen sengoku #ikesen oc #mitsunari ishida #houki of jiyel #funnily enough #this can go along nicely with my entry for Mitsun and Houki from last year #not intentional but it can be seen that way