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violettduchess · 1 year

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A/N: Since I was not able to complete all the fic requests for the Fall Fluff Autumn Angst Content Creation Challenge, I thought I could still do the ones I had left as headcanons 🌟

I did them for Ikepri here, now its time for vamp!

Napoleon, Mozart, Leonardo x reader

Word Count: 1853

Ikemen Vampire Fall Fluff Headcanons 🍂

Napoleon - Hot Apple Cider 🍎

It is the middle of the night, an hour when everyone should be warm and snug in their beds, lost in the garden of their dreams. You should also be curled against the warm body of the man you love but said body is….not there. Your stretched out hand searches the bed but finds nothing. You wiggle closer to his side, still feeling around and still all you touch are cool, empty sheets. With a groan, you push yourself up, rubbing sleepily at your eyes. Napoleon is not in bed and you know exactly where he is.

When the kitchen door opens, you are greeted by the heavenly scent of warm apple cider. Allspice and cinnamon drift dreamily up from the pot that the man you love is stirring. He glances at you over his shoulder with a sheepish grin on his handsome face.

“I couldn’t help it, Nunuche. I had to.” The conversation you had in this very kitchen, not six hours ago, replays itself in your mind. He was determined to treat everyone to hot apple cider tomorrow. But as he made it, something……something was missing. And despite your insistence that it was perfect, you knew by the glint in those eyes, bright as peacock feathers, that he didn’t agree. And because he is who he is, wanting to do his absolute best at anything he undertakes, he snuck back to the kitchen to make it just right.

You sigh, the sound warm with equal parts affection and exasperation as you walk over to him, sliding one arm around his waist as you eye the dark orange liquid. “And?”

His smile could illuminate the darkest of nights as he reaches for another, smaller spoon and carefully dips it into the cider. He raises it to his lips, blowing softly until he is certain it won’t be too hot for you to sip and then leans close. You drink the warm cider from the spoon and the expression on your face tells him he was right.

“That….is amazing. Even better than earlier. What did you add?” When he holds up the small bowl with the magic ingredient, you don’t recognize it until you bring it closer to your nose. “Cardamom?” He nods, pleased you recognized it. “Oui. Now it is perfect.”

You slide your arms around his waist, expression soft. “Does this mean you are now coming to bed?” You reach up, running a hand over the soft strands of his hair. Napoleon wraps his arms around you, nodding as he drops a gentle kiss to your lips. “I will clean up here,” he murmurs, his voice soft and alluring, “And then….” He kisses you once more. “Nothing…..” Another kiss, this time one that lingers, full of tantalizing promise, “Absolutely nothing will stand in the way of my joining you.”

Mozart - Hot Apple Cider 🍎

The wet, chill fall weather has struck again, making you late to dinner. You had stepped out of the mansion to run an errand, but just before you left the bookstore, the gray clouds decided it was the perfect time to unleash a cold, lashing rain that would have had you soaked to the skin within minutes of walking through it.

Sebastian meets you at the door, taking your hurried explanation with a head shake and a smile. He helps you out of your coat and then directs you to the dining room where several of the men are gathered, playing cards.

What greets you is the following scene: Arthur, Theodorus, Napoleon and Dazai playing some card game that moves too fast for you and has them all intently focused. Leonardo is literally asleep in the corner of the room, not bothered by the light or the noise. And there at the end of the table is Mozart, watching the others with a smile on his face, cheeks flushed. When he spots you, he beams. You know that face, that look in his eyes.

“Hallo, meine Liebe! I have missed you so.” He makes this announcement in a very loud, very not-sober Mozart voice and you put a hand on your hip as you saunter over to the card sharks. “Ok who did this?” You gesture to the man you love and the smile still plastered on his face. Arthur shakes his head, blue eyes bright as summer. “I swear, luv, I had nothing to do with it!” Theo looks annoyed you’ve interrupted their game. But Dazai’s golden eyes are bright as coins. Suspiciously so. “Dazai……” And then you notice all the mugs of cider. You glance at Mozart who is indeed drinking the last drops from his and already reaching for the jug with more.

You quickly go to him, gently taking the mug from his hand, lifting it to your nose before you set it back down on the table. He blinks his beautiful violet eyes at you. “I’m thirsty.” You wrap your arm around his narrow waist, giving him a placating smile. “We can drink something upstairs. Come.” Mozart is not used to alcohol and you know if he keeps drinking, he will be cursing the cider, and Dazai’s generous and likely sneaky addition of bourbon. Together you navigate the steps and hallway until you reach his bedroom.

He humors you, allowing you to help him out of his waistcoat and vest. Your fingers undo the soft cravat at his throat. You’re about to suggest he lay down when his hands come up, catching yours. The spiked cider has melted any sign of his usually icy facade, any cool awkwardness he may still struggle with when he is alone with you. Now his expression is warm, inviting. His pale skin is flush with color, his eyes brilliant amethysts caught in sunlight. “I missed you,” he says simply, honestly.

Those words are rays of sunshine, warming you as you squeeze his hands in response. “I’m here now.” He smiles earnestly and some part of you thinks it is for the best he doesn’t smile at you like this often. You would never be able to leave his side if he did. “Come,” you say for the second time that night. And this time you fall onto his soft bed together, Mozart’s arms wrapped around you. As his mouth finds yours and you taste the lingering flavor of apple cider on his lips and tongue, a small part of you smiles. You’ll have to tell Napoleon how good it tastes.

…….in the morning.

Leonardo - Cozy Sweater 🧶

Leonardo walks into his own bedroom with no idea what is awaiting him. You’re standing in the middle of the room, half undressed. He blinks, taking in the sight of you in your long skirts and only your thin chemise on top. “If I had known you were waiting…like this…, I would have come much sooner.”

The expression on your face shrivels all the sensual ideas in his head before they even have a chance to blossom. You look….miserable. “Cara mia,” he says, voice now colored with concern as he reaches you, one warm hand touching the bare skin of your upper arm. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s silly….” but he can see it is anything but. “Tell me,” he says encouragingly, still rubbing your bare skin. You sigh, making a gesture toward the bed where he notices the soft, caramel-colored sweater you love wearing. “I was helping Sebastian trim some of the hedges and…” You walk over, lifting the sweater from the bed and offer it to him. He sees the problem. Along the shoulder, there is an ugly, jagged tear, right along the seam. He can also see that you have tried to mend it yourself, but the material is very tricky. It’s a stretchy, knit fabric. One that made it a very comfortable sweater and unfortunately, very difficult to fix.

You shake your head. “I tried to fix it but pulling or tugging causes it to keep puckering and it also just keeps clumping up where I need it to lay flat and why didn’t I think to change before going outside?” You look crestfallen and it tugs on his heartstrings, awakening the burning need to make you smile again. “Should I go and take a sword to the evil hedge that attacked you? Make it pay for what it has done?”

That gets a laugh. It’s a small one but it still counts. You sigh, turning away from him and open the wardrobe, reaching for a dark red blouse. He comes over, taking over the buttoning for you and then cups your face in his hand. “I’m sorry, tesoro.” You offer him a shrug and a small smile, half as bright as usual. “Thank you. Now I have to get over this and go with Sebastian and do the grocery shopping for this week. I’ll see you later.” You kiss him, a soft thank you on the plane of his cheek, and head out. It seems like such a small thing to be upset about, but it would be a lie if you tried to pretend you weren’t.

A few hours later, you make your way up the stairs toward the bedrooms, feeling better. The food stalls and vendors had helped you forget your torn sweater, distracting you with their vibrant wares and charming stories. You open the door to Leonardo’s bedroom, fully expecting to find him catnapping on the bed. He isn’t there, but what you find stops you in your tracks. Your sweater, your beautiful, soft, cozy sweater is folded neatly on the bed. You make your way over, lifting it up, your motion slow with the weight of shock. Sure enough, the ugly tear in the shoulder has been expertly mended.

“Welcome back.” You turn to find him leaning against the doorframe, his mouth curved in a satisfied grin. You look back down at the sweater. The kind of double stitching he did you’ve only ever seen done by a sewing machine, which certainly does not exist. “How….did you did this?” He offers you a nonchalant shrug. “You know me, cara mia. I sleep and I fix things. It’s what I do.”

You carefully set the sweater down on the desk chair, keeping it off the bed, before you cross the room to where he is standing. The look on your face has him straightening up, reaching back to close the door behind him, his own grin slowly growing. You lean against him, stretching up to lock your hands behind his neck as he slides his hands down over your hips. Oh he likes where this is going.

“So my knight in shining armor lifted a sewing needle instead of a sword and saved the day,” you murmur, your gaze bright and inviting. “How ever can I repay you for your kindness, cavaliere?” The Italian word for ‘knight’ falling from your lips nearly sends him over the edge of reason right then and there.

“I have a few ideas,” he answers, voice husky with anticipation. And then he has you in his arms, his kiss claiming you as wholly and utterly his.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @ariamichel @kpop-and-otome

#ikemen series #ikemen vamp #ikevamp #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp leonardo #napoleon bonaparte #wolfgang amadeus mozart #leonardo da vinci #fall fluff autumn angst ccc #fluff #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #violettwrites

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ikeromantic · 1 year

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Hiiii, sorry to bug you but can you do a Mozart x f reader angst where MC has pretty low self esteem, but has SUPER bad coping mechanisms and Mozart tries to get MC help but she's very stubborn about not getting it, kinda like Tracy and Mel in thirteen. (if you've seen it ofc) Have a great rest of your day/night😁

I have not seen Thirteen (Reasons Why)! But it is on my watch list ^_^ I have to carefully measure out how much drama and angst I take in or it will eat up my writing! Approx. 1100 words of hurt, self harm, and comfort.

Mozart saw the changes in her as if he were reading notes on a page. The self-deprecating twist to her lips, the way she began avoiding everyone when she wasn’t working. Avoiding him. At first, he tried to pretend not to care. When she brought him his meals in the music room, he gave her exactly what she gave him.

Disinterest.

They sparred with cruel words and cold looks, and every encounter left Mozart’s heart bruised. He did not understand what he’d done wrong. They’d been growing close - close enough that he held her hand. Shared a glass of wine. Told each other secrets never shared with another. And then after one recital at a noble estate, she’d gone dark on him. Dark and distant as a new moon.

He remembered the night, if only because he’d found her in the gardens, crying. And she wouldn’t say why. He’d been surprised at her reticence then. Now, he felt it was the first shiver of this shift into a woman he felt he barely knew. There were only sparse moments, unguarded, when he could see his darling looking out her hooded eyes.

Mozart wanted more than anything to bridge the gap between them. To understand why she was so angry, and what pain lay under that rage. He made a plan, as carefully as he drafted his compositions. The chorus was simple - ask and learn what lurked in her shadowed heart. But the melody . . . what note to begin? What key? What tempo?

He waited until she was in her room one evening, and fetched a few of her favorite things. Tea with a dollop of honey. Ginger cookies. A strawberry candy. Then he made his way there, tray in hand. Mozart considered knocking, but she might tell him to go away. That would ruin the whole plan. So he quietly opened the door, thankful it was unlocked.

The sight within froze him midstep. She sat crosslegged on the floor in front of a candle. Her forearm was held above the hungry flame, blistering her flesh in a scarlet welt. Worse was her expression. Pained, of course, because the fire burned. But satisfied. As if she deserved what she gave herself. And disgust, a hatred for her own weakness.

Mozart recognized it, because he felt something akin to it as well. In his endless disappointments, his pathetic fears, his failures. He dropped the tray and lurched toward her, unsure what he would do but feeling he must do something. The door swung shut behind him, the tea spilled across the carpet, and the treats scattered over the floor.

She looked up, her face going slack with surprise. “What-” Her words cut short as he extinguished the candle and kicked it out of the way. Despite his smallish frame, Mozart had the strength of a vampire. And he used it now to haul her to her feet and into his arms.

He did not realize he was crying. Nor did he see her face crumple at this sudden, unexpected embrace. “What are you doing, meine liebe? Your arm!” He gently touched the length of it, running his fingertips over half-healed burns and the scabs of old cuts.

His words seemed to remind her that she should be angry at his invasion. She struggled to push him away, slapping at his chest and hands. “Let me go! What the fuck, Wolf?”

“No,” he replied, his voice soft but full of an inner steel.

She slapped him. Hard. For a moment, Mozart saw white, nothing but an explosion of pain as his jaw slipped out of true, straining the tendons and ligaments in his neck and face. If he were a normal man, it would have broken. He’d have a bruise. But his flesh set to repairing itself almost as soon as the injury took place.

He did not let go. “Meine engel, stop fighting me. Tell me what this is? What have you done? Why . . .” He jerked her arm straight, displaying the injuries for them both.

“Why do you care,” she spat. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, hot and angry. She pushed against him again. “Just - just let go, damn it! Get out!” The last word was more a howl than language, the sound of a soul in agony.

Mozart could no more let go than he could cut off his own arm. He pulled her close instead, enduring the scrape of her sharp little nails, the hardness of her elbows and knees. She fought him with everything she had, until she exhausted herself and there were only tears left.

When she collapsed against him in defeat, he held her. Silent but for her crying. What could he say? He did not know what words could set this right. Could not understand what drove her to this - this mutilation of her precious flesh. The harm to her body and soul, both of which he had come to love so much.

“Just leave.” Her voice shook, tired and full to the brim with emotion.

“I won’t. I can’t.” He pressed his forehead to her cheek, frustrated.

“Why not? Wh-why?”

Mozart swallowed his own pride, his fear of rejection, and replied. “I love you. You are so - so very precious to me.” He kissed her cheek. The line of her jaw. The crook of her neck. “I love you so much I am mad with it. I’ve missed you so, these last weeks.”

“You don’t.” She turned her face from him. “You - you love music. I’m just . . . stupid. Useless. Pathetic.” Her hands clenched, white-knuckled, driving her nails into her palms.

He lifted the fist to his lips and kissed each finger, slowly prying them loose until he could see her palm. Scored with little angry red crescents. He kissed those too. “You are none of those things. You are so strong, to come here and make a life for yourself. Far from everything you know. So smart, to learn so many new skills . . . my sweet. Meine liebling. Meine perle.”

She gave a snort of disgust, pain still bright in her eyes. “I distract you. You’re b-better off -”

Mozart put a finger to her lips. “No. Never. I did not realize I was missing something, until you.”

Her eyes searched his face, hope and uncertainty wedded in that gaze. After a long silent moment, she laid her head on his shoulder and clung to him.

There was nothing for him to do but hold her, and so he did. He sat with her on his lap, stroking her back in careful circles. He spoke too, words of love, endearments from his heart. Things he had never been able to speak until this night, until he realized how close he’d come to losing her to herself.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #wolfgang mozart #tw self harm #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #hurt and comfort

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toxictaicho · 2 months

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Master and Margarita

acrylics on the canvas

Mayuri as Faust, Szayel as Mephisto and my OC as Margarita. Homunculus is of course Nemuri.

#mayuri kurotsuchi #szayelaporro granz #bleach #mad scientist #fanfic #johann wolfgang von goethe #mikhail bulgakov #demoncore/bluehell

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peanut-tyrug · 8 months

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DS Fanfic: Bonding Together

Wilson and Maxwell never really had a great relationship. A misfortunate accident in the caves however begins moving them in the right direction…

—

TRIGGER WARNING - This fic contains a call back to bad experiences/an experience that makes a character uncomfortable. If you aren’t comfortable with that, please don’t read this.

Wilson and Maxwell have been on thin ice since they had first paired up together.

Previous mishaps about each other float in their minds. For Wilson, Maxwell brought him here. Tricked him into making that stupid portal. For Maxwell, Wilson had always been a thorn in his side. He didn’t find him very pleasant to be around either.

Almost everyday, every minute, every second, the Survivors had to deal with their bickering.

“Oh, hush up, Higgsbury.” Maxwell would say.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. I-can’t-shut-up-and-stop sulking-around.” Wilson would retort.

“At least I don’t constantly boast about my non-existent achievements.” Maxwell would argue back.

Wilson would always scoff when a negative comment was made about his scientific prowess. “Excuse you!? I’ve achieved many things in my 33 years of life!”

“Like what?” Maxwell would ask. “Blowing up your university’s lab?”

Wilson’s eyes would wide and his mouth would go agape. He’d gasp. “Oh, why YOU—!!”

Their arguments always descended into a physical bout of some sort. Whether it be with dangerous weapons, or something as childish as a slap fight. By the end of their bout, they’d either be snarling at each other once Wickerbottom separated them, or knocked out cold on the ground after having tired each other out.

And the Survivors have dealt with it long enough.

Wickerbottom made the scientist and magician some Mandrake soup to help them fall asleep so they wouldn’t be around to hear their plans for how to help them bond. Wickerbottom knew that if they were to here talk of them trying get along, they would downright refuse to have any part of it.

Although they’d actually agree on something, their bouts would likely still be a prominent issue. They are relentless when it comes to their fights.

Wilson and Maxwell, with Wickerbottom’s help, get taken to their tents to sleep for the night. Wickerbottom calls her fellow campmates around the fire pit to come to a consensus on what they could do to improve Wilson and Maxwell’s relationship.

“Fellow campmates.” Wickerbottom begins. “I am certain we are all aware of the… relationship between Wilson and Maxwell… I’ve called us all here to discuss what we could do to assist in helping them get along. What are your suggestions?”

“Burn their clothes each time they argue.” Willow suggests.

“No, Willow.” Says Wickerbottom. “That fire could spread. It’s a waste of thread too.”

Willow folds her arms and pouts a bit.

“They’re practically children.” Says Winona. “Give 'em a spankin'” She chuckles.

“Winona, absolutely not.” Says Wickerbottom. “They may act like children, but they’re still grown men.”

“I was just playin' grams.” Says Winona.

Wes then flails his arms a bit to get the attention of his campmates. Wickerbottom looks over to the mime. She smiles, thinking he’ll have a good answer. “What do you have in mind, Wes?”

Wes puts his arms and positions them as if they’re sitting on two people’s shoulders. He then pulls his arms closer to his body. A group hug of some sort.

“Good suggestion, but I don’t think they will help much.” Says Wickerbottom.

“TERRIBLE IDEA AS USUAL, DISGUSTING MIME FLESHSACK.” Says WX. Wes frowns and averts his gaze.

“Hey!” Says Wolfgang. “What did Wolfgang say about being mean to clownman!?”

“Wolfgang, please.” Says Wickerbottom. “WX-78 should not have said that, but please do not start lighting a fuse.”

Wolfgang averts his, embarrassed. “Is sorry.” He says.

"I CAN SAY WHATEVER I WANT, MEATSACK." Says WX, looking to Wickerbottom.

Wickerbottom furrows her brows. "Well WX, what would you suggest?" She says in a bitter tone.

"I'D SUGGEST KILLING THEM. THAT WILL SHUT THEM UP." WX suggests.

"I resonate with the automaton." Says Wendy.

"Wendy, no!" Webber retorts. "We can't do that!"

Wickerbottom puts a hand to her head and sighs. "Oh, dear... would anyone else like to suggest anything?"

"We planned a trip to caves a bit ago, eh?" Says Woodie. “Why don’t we just bring them to the caves?”

Wickerbottom furrows her brows curiously. “What are you suggesting, Woodie?”

“Put 'em in a circumstance where they have to get along!” Says Woodie.

“Ah, a plöt well devised, fellow lumberjack!” Says Wigfrid.

Wickerbottom smiles. “Ah, I see.” She says. “We will start planning the trip out first thing tomorrow, yes?”

The group nods. They’ve finally come to a consensus. Wickerbottom can be at peace. The group separates and heads into their tents for the night.

—

It’s the next morning. The sun has just started to rise. Everyone is awake except Wilson and Maxwell. The Survivors are in front of a cartographer’s desk planning the aforementioned trip to the caves.

Willow and Winona stand next to each other as they plan. Winona looks back to Wilson and Maxwell’s tents.

“I wonder how to the two stooges are doing.” Winona says teasingly.

“Let us pray that soup didn’t knock 'em too hard.” Says Willow, a little sarcastically.

Just as Willow says that, Wilson pops out of his tent, groggy as hell. “Ugh… good morning.” He says as he rubs his head. “What are you all doing here?”

“We’re planning a trip to the caves, dear.” Says Wickerbottom.

“This early in the morning?” Says Wilson.

“It is a very important trip.” Says Wickerbottom.

In fact, it was an important trip.

“Can you people quiet down?” Says a nearby voice. The Survivors look back to see Maxwell popping out of his tent, just as groggy as Wilson. “Can a man get any sleep over here?”

Wilson furrows his brows. “Of course, you need your beauty sleep.” Wilson says teasingly.

“Oh, hush up, Higgsbury.” Says Maxwell, going back into his tent. He lays back down on his bed roll and closes his eyes.

It’s peaceful and quiet.

Until the peace is suddenly disturbed.

“RISE AND SHINE, MAGGOT!!”

Maxwell quickly lifts his body up and shouts. He looks forward to see Willow looking directly at him.

“What could you POSSIBLY want!?” Maxwell asks the pyromaniac.

“We’re heading to the caves later.” Says Willow. “So you’d best be up on your feet now. COME ON, GET UP SOLDIER!!” She says. She gets out of Maxwell’s tent and starts marching. “ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!! COME ON, YOU RAPSCALLION!!” Says Willow. “I AIN’T GOT ALL DAY!!” She continues to march.

Maxwell gets out of his tent. He looks over to Willow furiously. “I’M UP! I AM UP!” He says. “JUST STOP SHOUTING!”

“THAT IS NO WAY TO TALK TO A COMMANDER!!” Says Willow.

“You can stop now, Willow.” Says Wickerbottom. “He’s awake.”

Willow folds her arms sassily. “Okay, fine.” She says. She looks over to Maxwell. “But I got my eyes on you, soldier. You hear me?” She says in a harsh whisper.

Maxwell looks into Willow’s eyes. He can sense a fiery aura coming off of her. A blazing desire burns within her.

Maxwell quivers. He commits to Willow’s game. “Yes ma'am.”

Willow nods. “Mm-hm. That’s how a solider’s meant to act!”

“This must be an extremely important cave trip if you’re waking Maxwell up early.” Says Wilson.

Willow looks over to Wilson. “Yep.” She says. “Extremely important!”

“I’m excited to discover why.” Says Wilson happily.

“Oh, it’ll knock your scientific SOCKS OFF!!” Says Willow.

Wilson smiles brightly. “Oh! I’m intrigued!”

“You’re just going to have to wait, Wilson.” Says Wickerbottom.

“Although I don’t want to, I have to, I suppose.” Wilson says, trying to hold in his impatience.

“Good, you’re learning patience, dear.” Says Wickerbottom.

“That’s magnificent.” Says Maxwell. “I don’t have to hear words spout out of his mouth.” Says Maxwell teasingly.

Wilson sharply turns his head to face Maxwell. “How dare you!?” He says.

“Hey!” Says Winona. “It’s way too damn early to be hearin' EITHER OF YOU holler half-assed insults at each other. Can y’all just shut your traps for five seconds?”

“I know Higgsbury can’t.” Says Maxwell.

“You’re one to talk.” Says Wilson.

The men glare at each other.

Suddenly, Wes steps in between the arguing men. He grabs Wilson’s shoulders and pushes him to another part of the camp. He goes to Maxwell and does the same. The two men glare at each other from their positions. They then walk away to attend to their own business. Wes, satisfied, wipes his hands like he just finished working on an engine. He puts his fists to his hips and smiles proudly.

“…Huh.” Says Winona. “How efficient of ya, Wes.”

Wes smiles and bows to Winona as a thank you.

“So, grams.” Winona begins, now looking at Wickerbottom. “What exactly are we gonna do about those goons?”

“Hmm… I believe I have an idea.” Says Wickerbottom. “Spread the word to the others, please.”

Willow, Wes, and Winona nod. They all walk up to Wickerbottom as she explains her plan to them.

—

It’s early dusk now. The Survivors are ready to execute the plan Winona had codenamed: Operation: Get-Along. The small group of five prepare themselves for their trip.

“Is everyone prepared?” Asks Wickerbottom.

“We’re ready, Ms. Wickerbottom!!” Says an excited Webber, who has a backpack on.

Wes brightly smiles and salutes.

“I am ready for a scientific experience!” Wilson says excitedly.

Maxwell rolls his eyes at Wilson’s comment. His eyes face Wickerbottom. “I am ready, Ms. Wickerbottom.” He says.

“Delightful.” She says. She looks back to her fellow Survivors gazing upon the five of them.

“Good luck out there!” Says Winona.

“Many blessings I give thee.” Says Wigfrid.

“Try not to die.” Says Wendy.

“I’D PREFER IT IF THEY DID DIE.” Says WX.

“What did I tell you about talking all that smack?” Winona says, glaring at WX.

WX grumbles. “UGH… IF I TALK SMACK, I CANNOT GO ON ORGANIC HUNTS ANYMORE…” They say, irritated.

“Uh-huh. Now stop with the smack talk.” Says Winona sternly.

Wickerbottom’s brows furrow, but she still smiles. “Take good care of the camp while we are gone!”

“Friends will protect camp for Ms. Wickerbottom!” Says Wolfgang, flexing his arms.

“We will be back by tonight!” Says Wickerbottom. “Stay safe!”

The five head off. The other Survivors watch as they leave.

“So… you guys think this plan will go well?” Asks Willow.

“I don’t know to be honest. If we’re lucky, it may work, but I just got a bad feeling.” Says Winona.

“What is wrong, strong-lady handy woman?” Asks Wolfgang.

Winona shrugs. “I dunno. Somethin' just doesn’t feel right…” She says.

“Is it the feeling that they could perish?” Asks Wendy.

“…Kinda, yeah.” Says Winona.

“Those fellas should be fine.” Says Woodie. “Wickerbottom said she didn’t expect any cave ins or quakes.”

“We can önly höpe they return with victöry in their eyes.” Says Wigfrid.

The group watched as the their fellow Survivors fade out into the distance.

—

The group of five tread through a large field toward the cave entrance they’re looking for. Wickerbottom is leading while the others follow behind.

“Ms. Wickerbottom? I have a question.” Wilson asks.

Wickerbottom looks back to face the scientist. “Hm? What is it?”

“How come you didn’t have anyone with physical strength come with us?” Wilson asks. “You said this trip was important. Wouldn’t have been optimal to bring Wolfgang or Wigfrid along?”

Wickerbottom doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Wigfrid had suggested Wes and Webber tag along.” She says. “They wanted to see how far they had come.”

They were actually only there to help push Wilson and Maxwell in the right direction. Lead them down the path they wanted them to go down. Wickerbottom thought they’d fit best, as they’re the sweetest out of the 12 of them.

“Yeah! We’ve been training hard!” Says Webber excitedly. “Right, Wes?”

Wes nods enthusiastically. He then flexes his lanky arms. Wilson chuckles.

“I wish you both well on your endeavors.” Says Wilson.

“I have a follow up question.” Maxwell suddenly buds in.

Wickerbottom looks back to face Maxwell. “Hm? What is it?”

“You haven’t brought both Wilson and I on a cave venture together in ages.” Says Maxwell. “Why has this changed? And so suddenly too?”

Again, Wickerbottom doesn’t hesitate. “I wanted to see if you both were capable enough to handle being together.” She says. “If you can’t handle this, then you won’t be paired up again.”

“What makes you think we’ll get along here?” Maxwell asks.

“Just don’t talk to each other.” Says Wickerbottom.

“Look! Over there!” Webber points. “The cave entrance!”

The group stops at a large hole in the ground.

“Prepare your ropes everyone.” Says Wickerbottom. “I’ll go down first.” She looks to Webber. “And I’ll help you get down.”

One by one, each Survivor climbs down into the dark depths. Webber being the last one down, with Wickerbottom’s help. The five take out their miner hats and tread forward. Just like before, Wickerbottom is leading.

“Where exactly are we headed?” Asks Wilson.

“The Ancient Ruins.” Says Wickerbottom.

“Are we fighting that beast again?” Wilson asks, referring to the Ancient Fuelweaver. “Are you sure it’s optimal for Wes and Webber to be here?”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Wilson!” Says Webber. “We’re prepared!”

Wes nods, agreeing with Webber.

Wilson accepted the argument, but the situation still felt peculiar. Wes was weaker than the others and Webber was just a kid. Because of these aspects, they weren’t normally brought on cave missions like this.

Something feels wrong, but Wilson is willing to trust his companions. Wickerbottom especially. She always seemed to know what to do and how to execute it.

…But what if she was messing with him?

“Oh, dear.” Says Wickerbottom. Wilson is whacked out of his world of thought. He looks up.

“A fork in the road.” Says Wickerbottom.

The tunnel their walking in has been separated into two paths.

Wickerbottom looks back to the other four Survivors. “I will take the left. Everyone else, you take the right.”

Wilson’s brows furrow. “Are you sure?” He asks.

“I’ll be fine, dear.” Says Wickerbottom. “I’ve memorized this cave’s layout.”

Wickerbottom was right, according to Wilson. She may be old, but she’s tough.

“If you insist, I suppose.” Says Wilson.

“How do we know this isn’t some trick?” Says Maxwell. “You’ve never made groups more uneven, Ms. Wickerbottom.”

Wickerbottom’s brows furrow. “I know what I’m doing, Maxwell.” She says.

“Do you?” Maxwell asks.

“Mr. Maxwell!” Says Webber. “Wouldn’t make sense to keep going forward?”

“He is right, Maxwell.” Says Wilson. “We can’t focus on arguing.”

“I’m surprised you think that, Higgsbury.” Says Maxwell.

“Oh, will you just shut up?” Says Wilson.

“See? There it is, right there.” Says Maxwell. “The blatant hypocrisy that lies deep within your soul, as usual.”

Before Wilson can quip back, Wes suddenly gets in between the men and pushes them into the path Wickerbottom assigned them. Webber quickly follows. Wickerbottom sighs as she enters her path.

—

The four Survivors walk through the straight tunnel. Wilson leads, looking at the map Wickerbottom put in his bag, while the others stay behind.

“This is a surprisingly long tunnel.” Says Wilson.

“We should meet Ms. Wickerbottom when we reach the end.” Says Webber.

“Good.” Says Wilson. “As much as my scientific brain pushes me toward our goal…” He looks back at Maxwell.

“What?” Maxwell asks.

“Why did you doubt Wickerbottom like that?” He asks, still walking. “You know she knows how to plan these things. Why doubt her?”

“I don’t have a good feeling about her.” He says, also still walking. “The same goes for our fellow cave dwellers.” He says, now looking over to Webber and Wes.

“How come?” Asks Webber.

“What Webber said, Maxwell.” Says Wilson. “How come?”

“I have a sixth sense.” Says Maxwell.

“Is that sixth sense just you thinking you’re better than her?” Wilson asks.

“No!” Says Maxwell. “There is something amiss, Higgsbury!”

Wilson sneers. “Admit it, you imbecile.” He says. “You just don’t trust a great mind when you see one.”

“Are you that distrustful of me?” Asks Maxwell.

“How can I not be?” Says Wilson. “You CONSTANTLY reminisce about the so-called 'good old days'! The days when you TORTURED US for entertainment! How can I trust you when you have shown barely an OUNCE of improvement since we partnered up!? You’ve acted the exact same since I met you!”

“Can you not bring that up?” Says Maxwell.

“Hey!” Says Webber. “We’re supposed to go this way!” He says, pointing toward a nearby tunnel.

“Why?” Says Wilson. “It happened! We all know it did!”

Maxwell pauses, unable to speak.

“See? That’s your problem!” Says Wilson. “You’re in denial!”

“So are you.” Says Maxwell.

“Hey!” Says Webber. “Look where you’re walking!”

Wilson and Maxwell look back to Wes and Webber.

As they turn, they feel themselves falling.

Slipping off of a ledge.

They both fall.

The men can see glimpses of the mime and spider child as they quickly disappear from their view.

…

“AH!”

Wilson shoots upward. He looks around.

“M-MAXWELL!!” He shouts, panicked. “Where are you!?”

Wilson tries to get up, but quickly stumbles and falls. His body hurt. He had fallen hard.

Maxwell likely had as well.

“Maxwell! MAXWELL!!” Wilson calls out.

Nothing.

“Stop playing around!” Says Wilson. “I know you’re there!”

Suddenly, grunting can be heard. Wilson turns his head to the direction of the sound.

He sees a shaky pitch black hand grab a nearby stone.

It’s Maxwell’s.

He lifts himself up. His face his beaten and bruised. He lays his head against the stone. “…Stop… yelling, Higgsbury.” Says Maxwell, weakly.

Wilson crawls over to the rock Maxwell was laying his head on. He lays his back against it. He sighs weakly.

“Say pal, you don’t look so good.” Says Maxwell.

“Don’t say that.” Says Wilson. “You don’t look good either. If not worse.”

Maxwell crawls around the stone and sits next to Wilson. “I take bigger hits than you, pal.” Says Maxwell.

“I’m aware.” Says Wilson.

“…You’re not going to try and start anything?” Asks Maxwell.

“No.” Says Wilson. “I’m too tired to try and argue with you… we’ve done enough.”

Everything then goes silent. The only sound being the weak breathing from the two men.

Until…

“…Can I talk to you?” Maxwell asks in a peculiarly genuine tone.

Wilson looks over to the magician with his brows furrowed. “…What is it?”

“I believe we never exactly… payed attention to our relationship.” Says Maxwell.

Wilson thinks about Maxwell’s words. “…We really haven’t…” He says. “We’ve been at each other’s throats for ages… while everyone else gets along with you fine.”

“That’s because they can mostly move away from their grudges.” Says Maxwell. “You- We have yet to reach a consensus.” Says Maxwell.

“We each keep starting fights with each other…” Says Wilson.

“Getting absolutely nowhere…” Says Maxwell.

“…Nowhere but the bottom of a cave…” Says Wilson.

“Bruised and battered…” Says Maxwell.

The silence returns.

…Until it’s broken again.

“…Maybe we do have a problem…” Says Wilson. “But how do we fix it?”

Maxwell turns his head over face Wilson. “…We try.”

Wilson looks at the magician surprised. “You’re not throwing a quip at me?”

“Just like you said.” Says Maxwell. “I’m too tired to try…”

He pauses.

“…And I can’t keep this game up anymore. We can’t keep this up anymore.” Maxwell continues.

“…We really can’t… we will continue to get hurt otherwise…” Says Wilson. “…Let’s say we have a truce? An actual one.”

“It’s a deal, Wilson.” Says Maxwell.

Wilson’s eyes light up a bit. “You’re not calling me 'Higgsbury'?” Wilson asks. “Isn’t that your thing?”

“You’re going to think I’m lying to you if I do.” Says Maxwell.

“…I would’ve…” Says Wilson.

“See? Now we’re getting somewhere.” Says Maxwell. “Stop being in denial.”

“You do the same.” Says Wilson. “You can’t deny that the past happened. Do what you can with your second chance.”

“I will.” Says Maxwell, a smirk appearing at the edge of lips. “Learn to be more open minded as well, you hear?”

“I will.” Wilson responds.

Suddenly, clacking and quick footsteps are heard.

“Are you two alright!?” Cries an feminine elderly voice. Wickerbottom approaches from the shadows, Wes and Webber behind her.

“We’re… decent…” Says Maxwell.

“Oh, dear… you both look horrible…” Says Wickerbottom, dismayed. “We need to get you both back to camp.” She says sternly.

“Wouldn’t you need some heavy lifters?” Asks Wilson.

“The others are near the ledge waiting for us.” Says Wickerbottom. “Wes and I will bring you to the ropes.”

Before Wilson and Maxwell can react, Wickerbottom and Wes lift the men up and carry over to handmade harnesses to carry them up the ledge. They are borg attached to their harnesses and carried up to the top of the ledge. Once they reach the top, they see to pairs holding up the harnesses, Woodie and Wolfgang carrying Wilson, and Wigfrid and Winona carrying Maxwell.

Winona catches a glimpse of Maxwell’s beaten up face as he rises above the ledge. “Oof, dang, you look awful. You okay?” She asks.

“Better than I was before.” Says Maxwell.

“That’s a start.” Says Winona.

Wilson is eventually brought and taken off the harness. He is sat down against a wall. “Science man look terrible…” Says Wolfgang, looking at Wilson’s bruised face.

“You alright, buddy?” Asks Woodie.

“I’m decent.” Says Wilson. “I could be better.”

The pairs begin treating the men’s injuries. Eventually, Wickerbottom, Wes, and Webber rise up from below.

“I deeply apologize.” Says Wickerbottom to the injured men. “I did not intend for this happen.”

“Just tell 'em our plan, grams.” Says Winona. “There ain’t much of a point keeping it from them anymore.”

“Oh, you don’t need to explain.” Says Maxwell. “I was suspecting something during our trip. I knew I felt something was going on.”

“Dang!” Says Winona. “We really can’t keep anything from you.”

Wilson then looks at Maxwell wide eyed. “You were right!” He says. “Ms. Wickerbottom! I trusted you!” He says, now looking to Wickerbottom.

“We were only trying to help you both get along.” Says Wickerbottom. “But I suppose our efforts were fruitless.”

“Oh no, they weren’t.” Says Maxwell.

“Whaddya mean?” Webber asks.

“When we were stuck down there… we realized that our fighting only put ourselves in danger.” Says Wilson. “…We’ve come to a consensus. We made a deal.”

“You won’t have to hear us bicker anymore.” Says Maxwell.

The other Survivors stare at the men. They had not expected for the odds to be in their favor after their fall. They, surprisingly, had come to consensus.

They wouldn’t fight anymore.

“Oh, my God.” Says Winona.

“'Tis unheard öf!” Says Wigfrid.

“We likely would’ve killed each other by the time you came back.” Says Wilson. “If it is truly unheard of, as you say, then why are we still here? In one piece?”

“…Ah, I see” Says Wigfrid.

“So, we won’t have to hear you spout at each other, eh?” Woodie asks.

“We pray not.” Says Maxwell.

“I believe we’re already starting on a good note, too.” Says Wilson, a smile curving up on his face.

“Hah, can’t wait to see Willow’s eyes pop out their sockets when she hears this.” Says Winona.

—

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY JUST MADE UP!?” Says Willow.

“I WOULD’VE PREFERRED THE SCENARIO WHERE THEY KILLED EACH OTHER.” Says WX.

Winona glares at WX. They notice. They fold their arms and grumble a bit.

“Odd.” Says Wendy. “It felt so unforeseen…”

“Although it felt unlikely, I suppose that is the timeline we live in.” Says Wickerbottom, looking over to the duo. The two men sit in front of the fire pit.

The two sit next to each other, mostly healed and recovered from their recent injuries. They aren’t arguing, or bickering like they had before.

It looks as if, for the first time since they had met, and banded together, they’re actually getting along.

- END -

#don’t starve #my writing #fanfic #dst wilson #dst maxwell #dst wickerbottom #dst willow #dst winona #dst wes #dst wx78 #dst wolfgang #dst wendy #dst webber #dst woodie #dst wigfrid

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keikaru · 3 months

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overture of the heart - fate/grand order (Salieri & Mozart)

Let this overture be the song of your heart. A blazing wrath, let anger guide your hands until you are devoid of that hatred.

Anger burns through his body and scorches the keys. Every note weighs like a thousand burdens, but still Salieri plays on.

A musician performs to bind his soul to music. The Man in Gray knows this. Yet he chases for the vestiges of that man, that genius musician with no equal.

With or without Mozart, Salieri lays his soul bare as he plays. His melody rings out in raw abandon as if praying, pleading, beseeching for a release.

There is no peace in this Lostbelt—only death throes and wails. Yet that makes the perfect backdrop of his final song, a song to fit the grand stage of the Chaldean Master’s fight with the Tsar.

When his fingers rip through the keys, rapid melodies twist into a crescendo. Everything starts to feel lighter, his mind, his body, and his soul.

When Salieri takes a final breath, he thinks of Mozart.

You play so beautifully, Salieri. So honestly, so passionately.

But tell me this, Salieri. How did you turn wrath into silver bells of mirth?

Update: Read on AO3

#short fic #drabble #one shot #my fic #fgo #fate grand order #fgo salieri #fgo mozart #fgo spoilers #tagging spoilers just in case #i am fascinated by their relationship in fgo #as u can see i haven't finished lbt1 but no spoilers!!#i think i can see why ppl ship these two together #in which salieri plays the piano and remembers mozart #fanfic #fanfiction #fgo Antonio Salieri #fgo wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

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wwwdotwhatdotcom · 1 year

Note

Hi really love your work🙂. May I repuest

Wolfgang with a gn(or male if you write it of course) reader. So I had this in my mind, Wolfgang and the reader are super close(like best friends) so toshiko tries to get them into a relationship and end the she succseeds.

Sorry if this is confusing

AWW THATS SO CUTE, of course ill write it!! it’ll be in a non killing game au because im all for fluff 🫶

authors note: reader is gonna be shorter then wolfgang because i refuse to believe anyone over 6’0 would want wolfgang.

——

the lawyer’s confession.

(featuring Wolfgang Akire, reader, Toshiko Kayura, and guest appearances from Kai Monteago, Grace Madison, and Cassidy Amber)

It had been a few months since Wolfgang had started attending Eden’s Garden Academy, and he was absolutely smitten with one of his classmates. you, you were perfect. The way you smiled, the way you spoke, the way you acted, the way you looked, you were just… perfect. You were in his class, naturally, and the lawyer felt blessed.

“Oh come on! Yours obviously in love with them, so just confess! It’s not that hard.”

“Miss Kayura, it’s not that simple… they’re my closest friend, i don’t want to lose them over this.”

Toshikosighs, bopping wolfgang on the head with one of her fans. “They’re clearly into you as well, everyone sees how they look at you.”

“I’m… i’m not too sure. they’re a wonderful person, and… and if i do confess, i want it to be perfect.”

“Then leave that to me! wolfgang, you are elegant, well-spoken, and i can’t think of anyone better for y/n then you.” Toshiko chuckled, walking away, leaving Wolfgang alone in the classroom.

“Wolfgang?” It was you. Peaking out from behind the door, you stepped into the classroom. “Um…what were you and toshiko talking about?”

“I- well- we were just-“ Wolfgang stutters, suddenly unable to form words. Maybe it was the curious look on your face, maybe it was the fact you were there- shit, he needed to compose himself. Straighting his tie, Wolfgang takes a deep breath. “We were… discussing you.”

“Me? why?”

“Because… well…. y/n, to put it simply, i’m in love with you.” He glances away, fidgeting with his tie.

Face flushing, you walk towards Wolfgang. “You’re… in love with me?” Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Yes. I- I’ve been in love with you since we first met.”

“Oh Wolfgang…” you gently place your hand on his cheek, smiling. “I love you too.”

The man blinks, before smiling as well. “Ah… can I…. may i kiss you?”

You nod, and he leans down, softly kissing you. he wraps his arms around your waist, and you wrap yours around his neck.

“y/n…” Wolfgang mutters, pulling away.

“Yeah?”

“Will… will you go out with me?”

You laugh. “Of course. I would love to.”

Kissing you again, the two of you spend a sweet moment together, just… kissing.

But of course, someone walks in- no, two people.

“Hoooly shit- Wolfgang- and y/n- i gotta get a picture.” It was Kai. Snickering, the influencer took way too many photos of you and Wolfgang.

“Mr Monteago!” Wolfgang exclaims, letting go of you. “Please, delete that!”

“No way, my fans will LOVE this.”

Behind Kai, was Toshiko. She walked over to the two of you, but not before shoving kai out of the room.

“Well, it seems i didn’t need to go through all the trouble i just went through!”

“Toshiko? What do you mean?” You tilt your head, confused.

“I set up an entire scenario where Wolfgang would confess to you, and it was perfect! But it seems he already has.” The girl grumbles, but she quickly gets over it. “Either way, I’m absolutely delighted that the two of you are finally together! I’ve been waiting for one of you to finally say something.”

Looking at one another, then looking at Toshiko, then back at each other, you and Wolfgang laugh.

“I really do appreciate your help, Miss Kayura. If not for you, I wouldn’t have been able to confess in the first place..” Wolfgang smiles.

Because we can’t have just two people running in, Cassidy and Grace RAN into the classroom as well.

“YOURE DATING Y/N?”

“I saw Kai’s post on Instagram holy shit-“

They’re talking over one another.

It looks like this might go on for a while…

“Wolfgang… let’s… let’s get out of here.” You whisper to the lawyer, who simply nods. Taking your hand, the two of you leave the classroom, much to your classmate’s protests.

—

authors note TWO!!: i had a lot of fun writing this, admittedly most of it was written during my homeroom class ;^-^ but enjoy!

#i’m not forgetting tags again #fanfic #p:eg #project eden's garden #project eden’s garden x reader #p:eg x reader #wolfgang akire #wolfgang x reader #toshiko kayura #grace madison #cassidy amber #fluff #gn!reader #wolfgang project eden’s garden #fluff fic #drabble #kai monteago

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komotionlessqueenmm · 1 year

Text

Hellhound

(1-3)

Short story # 17

✨Fandom(s) - Wednesday (series) & Misfits (sorta)

💍Pairing - Tyler Galpin X (Y/n) Wolfgang Von Frankenstein

🕯Summary - You're new to Nevermore, and already you've made a few friends. And despite having different styles, you agree to go into town with them to go shopping. But when that gets boring you decide a nice hot drink would be a perfect way to kill some time. Who knew you'd also meet a cute boy while at it.

⚠️Warning(s) - General cussing probably, but other than that this one's okay.

📝Note(s) - You are now the little sister of Doyle and Jerry from the Misfits. I'm changing the Misfits timeline to fit this story better, as the guys are only a few years older than you. (Like 5 or so) Also in this world the Misfits are Outcasts, they ain't Normies!

🗝Key information - We're pretending that Wolfgang Von Frankenstein is your families last name because it's wicked.

🌬Year posted - 2023

📖Reading time roughly - 6 minutes.

🙈Rating - SFW/NSFW

◈ Pt.) 1 | Pt.) 2 | Pt. 3

"Awe please please please!" Natasha bugged her deary new friend, who gave her an unamused look before sighing dramatically. "Yes!" Natasha threw her arms in the air in victory, knowing she'd finally convinced (Y/n) to go shopping in town. "You do realize this isn't exactly my scene right?" (Y/n) pointed out while Natasha texted the others to meet them in front of the school. "Oh I know." She mused sarcastically as she observed (Y/n)'s outfit. (Y/n) in turn rolled her eyes fondly as she followed her friend out of their shared dorm. "Finally!" Enid gushed as they approached her and their mutual friend Kayla. "You two took forever!" She added with a pout. "Please." Natasha scoffed, leading the group out to the bus that would take them into town.

Once they reached town the girls lead (Y/n) into several corny stores, that just screamed girly. And as they neared the third store, a dress shop, (Y/n) decided she'd had enough. "Hey I saw a coffee shop just down the street, I'm just gonna go hangout there until you guys are done." (Y/n) explained before they could rush off into the store. "But we're having so much fun." Enid pouted making (Y/n) chuckle softly. "You guys are." She pointed to the various bags each girl held, before sticking her free hands into her back pockets. "Well... Okay." Enid agreed begrudgingly, smiling brightly when (Y/n) gave her a grateful nod. "I'll see you guys in a little while." She called out before spinning on her heel and heading for the coffee shop. The girls all waved then rushed into the store in a fit of excited giggles, as they had with all the other stores as well.

"How can I help you?" The young man working the register asked with a prim smile, something (Y/n) had found rather amusing. "I actually have no idea what I want." She peered at the menu, unaware of how intensely the guy was observing her. "Well I know I want a hot drink." She mused before looking back to the rather attractive guy. "You know what, just surprise me." She shrugged, making him chuckle. "Okay three dollars then." He knew just what to make her. "Oh and I need your last name." He added after storing the money away. "Wolfgang Von Frankenstein." (Y/n) chimed without a second thought, an amused chortle escaping her at the bewildered look on his face. "My first names (Y/n) if that would be easier." She peered at his name tag. "Tyler." She added with a playful wink, Tyler chuckled nervously as he ducked his head to hide his blush. "Yeah that'll be easy." He agreed before getting to work on her order.

(Y/n) hummed in contempt as she walked over to a booth, sitting to where she was facing the store her friends were in. And within just a few minutes Tyler came over with her order. "Here you go (Y/n), one white chocolate latte." He smiled as he placed it in front of her, the decorative skull in the foam making her grin. "How'd you know?" She mused as he slid into the booth across from her. "I'm really good at what I do." He shrugged casually. "So why ask for my name if you were just going to bring it to me?" (Y/n) pried as she grasped her cup, the warmth of the drink warming her chilled hands. "I wasn't sure I could convince my coworker to let me take my brake early." Tyler admitted, making (Y/n) chuckle. "And what makes you think I want you pestering me?" She asked with a playful grin. "I can tell." He fired back with his own smile. "Very well." She shrugged with a dramatic flourish, effectively making him laugh.

After a few short moments of simply observing eachother, Tyler broke the quiet that had settled. "Wolfgang Von Frankenstein huh?" He tilted his head with a thoughtful look. "Seems like an odd name." He added without thought. "To you perhaps, but to me it is all I've ever known." (Y/n) stated before sipping her drink, a soft moan of approval escaping her at the taste of her latte. "So you must be a student at Nevermore." He wondered. "Yep I just transferred this semester." She nodded her head. "Made any friends yet?" He crosses his arms on the table. "A few. People really like me so it's never difficult." (Y/n) let her fingers dance along the side of the cup. "Were you born with that?" Tyler suddenly asked, his eyes locked onto her hands. "No... It's an affliction from something that happened a few years ago." She peered down at her inky black fingers, while Tyler looked to her mouth decorated with black lines.

"Even that part?" He asked. And (Y/n)'s pitch black stained tongue poked out and swept across her bottom lip, revealing that her gums and teeth even had a black hue to them. "Yes." She nodded her head. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked." Tyler shook his head, embarrassed that he'd brought it up. "It's okay, you're only curious." (Y/n) brushed it off with a shrug. After a few long moments, Tyler once more broke the quiet. "So do you have any siblings?" He asked with honest curiosity. "I have two older brothers." (Y/n) nodded her head as she pulled her phone out, quickly pulling up a picture of her brothers, and showing him. "The one on the left is Doyle, we're as thick as thieves. And the guy on the right is the eldest, Jerry, we're pretty close, but we don't quite bond the same way me and Doyle do." (Y/n) smiled as she thought about her brother's, whom she hadn't seen in nearly four months.

"They seem interesting." Tyler chuckled softly. "Their trouble." (Y/n) mused with a cheeky grin "Okay so I gotta ask... Is it a tattoo? Or just makeup?" Tyler asked as he pointed to Doyle. "Ah well neither actually..." (Y/n) chuckled softly at the confusion on the young man's face. "An affliction?" He wondered. "Nope." She shook her head. "I don't get it." He admitted. "Well it's the byproduct of dabbling with eastern dark arts." She shrugged casually. "What kind of dark arts?" Tyler asked as he scooted forward a little, clearly intrigued. "Necromancy to be exact." (Y/n) admitted before sipping her latte. "Why was your brother messing with necromancy?" The barista wondered aloud. (Y/n)'s eyes cast out the window, catching sight of her friends exiting the dress shop. "Maybe another time." She excused herself to follow after her friends. "I'll call you sometime." Tyler hollered after her, making (Y/n) chuckle as she spun on her heel to look at him. "I never gave you my number." She pointed out. "Maybe next time." She added with a wink, making Tyler chuckle as she left.

←PREVIOUSLY | NEXT→

#short story #Tyler Galpin #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin imagine #tyler galpin fanfic #tyler galpin fluff #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin x you #wednesday series #wednesday show #wednesday x reader #wednesday imagine #wednesday #reader insert #misfits #doyle wolfgang von frankenstein #jerry only

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fortenik · 3 months

Text

NEW GURITEN PROMPT

Figure skater! Tenma x Boxer! Grimmer

#naoki urasawa's monster #kenzo tenma #wolfgang grimmer #guriten #monster anime #I love this idea sm please someone hear me out #I need a fanfic or a fanart or idk I need something

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starfishies123 · 7 months

Text

And just like that - the sequel to the Coffee Boy is at 22 chapters 🙈

Thomas comes face to face with his former life and his childhood dreams.

Is he ready to move on?

#mozart #wolfgang amadeus mozart #beethoven #ludwig van beethoven #wolfie #ludwig #amadeus #wolfgang #coffee boy au #thomas linley the younger #Thomas Linley #composers #classical music #classical music fanfic #historical characters #modern au

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nooowestayandgetcaught · 4 months

Text

A New Discovery

read on AO3

~1k, Wolfgang/Kala/Rajan, M-rating, Post-Series

Summary: "You're pregnant?" he yelps, staring right at Wolfgang becoming a strange shade of pink. "No, no, YOU'RE pregnant are you?" Rajan corrects himself, staring at Kala.

#sense8 #rajalagang #kala dandekar #wolfgang bogdanow #rajan rasal #sense 8 #kala x wolfgang #wolfgang x kala #kala x rajan #rajan x kala #wolfgang x rajan #rajan x wolfgang #sense8 fanfiction #sense8 fanfic

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farfromsugafanfic · 2 years

Text

Amadeus | b.ch Masterlist

Genre: Werewolf AU, slight Fantasy AU, Musician!Reader

Pairing: Bang Chan/Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: violence, gore, weapon usage, potential smut later on (individual chapters will continue warnings)

Synopsis: Chan belongs to the Order of Amadeus who work to keep the kingdom safe from the lycanthropy plague spreading among the populace. You can only hunt so long before you become what you hunt.

Y/N is a violinist in a traveling music troupe-one of the few left in the kingdom. One morning when she is practicing in the woods, a man emerges from among the trees and changes her life forever.

Down a member, the Order of Amadeus continues their mission to end the lycanthropy plague, but their missing member remains in the back of their mind as they narrow in on the worst wolf of them all.

*Inspired by Wolfgang by Stray Kids

Chapters:

Teaser

Teaser 2

Chapter One: The Plague

Chapter Two: The Elite Eight

Chapter Three: The Violinist

Chapter Four: The Seven

#skz #skz bang chan #bang chan fan fiction #bang chan #bang chan fanfic #werewolf au #Kpop fanfic #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fan fiction #stray kids fantasy au #farfromsuga #chan x reader #fan fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #chan x y/n #wolfgang skz

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violettduchess · 2 years

Note

Congratulations again and again XD You're a star! If it would be alright, may I request Mozart + Red Tulip, please?

A/N: Part of my 500 Follower Celebration🎉

Mozart x f!Reader

Fluff

Word Count: 977

A red blanket spread across bright green grass under a cornflower blue sky. Bold colors, bright colors. You look at the man you love as he lies on his side, his head of silver hair almost luminous in the sunlight. A man of understated pale blue and silver and white and gray, a sharp contrast to the world around you. Sometimes you wonder if he is truly here, his spectral beauty almost too much for this plane of existence. Your hand travels to your neck at the thought, fingers touching skin that is still tender from earlier that morning and the love-mark of his fangs. It reassures you. He is here. And real. And yours.

He is currently propped up on one elbow, absently toying with a few grapes. You can tell by the way his violet eyes aren’t focused that he isn’t really here. His body may be present but his mind is wandering in its own dream-space, lost in music only he can hear, building symphonies and concertos while you mundanely decide which jelly to put on your croissant.

You know his heart well enough to leave him to his dreaming, leaning back on your palms and enjoying the view over the rolling green hills dotted with over-exuberant daisies. Your attention is pulled away from the idyllic scene by something small and blue bobbing its way toward you. A large butterfly with cobalt wings edged in black is fluttering toward your picnic. You hold your breath as it lands, first on the wicker handle of your basket and then it flaps its way in a lazy zig-zag to land right on your bent knee. Squashing the impulse to gasp, you remain very still as the butterfly takes its respite, gossamer wings slowly folding and unfolding on a loop, a ballerina stretching before her next dance. Up close, you can see the tiny, delicate black veins that run through the shocking blue of its wings. A living jewel right in front of you. The wings open and close one more time and then without warning it takes off, fluttering away as unexpectedly as it came.

You can’t help it. Delight and excitement finally are allowed to escape as you burst into elated laughter. Mozart snaps to attention, as if he had heard a gunshot and not an expression of joy. He blinks his amethyst eyes, staring at you.

“Wolf, did you see it? Did you see the beautiful butterfly that just landed on me? Just like that!” You are still laughing, talking excitedly as you scan the green fields around you for any sign of your tiny visitor. Mozart slowly pushes himself up, the only sign of what he is thinking is the corner of his mouth, lifted in an unreadable, Mona Lisa smile.

A few days later

The concert hall is buzzing like a hive full of bees. You smooth your hands over the deep ochre velvet of your skirt, the familiar excitement of attending a Mozart concert running through you as well. The gleaming white beast of a grand piano is already spotlit and awaiting the man who will bring it to life, whose fingers will breathe air into its lungs and start a heart beating in its chest. Next to you, le Comte is a vision of calm as he takes in the stage, the lights, the sounds of the patrons. He glances at you and offers a smile.

“You said he wrote this piece in a few hours?”

You nod. “We were having a picnic on the hill and then he just got up and said he needed to go, immediately.”

Comte turns his golden gaze back to the stage, affection in his smile. “That’s Mozart.”

You’re about to agree when the lights finally go down and your heart leaps up, somersaulting in your chest as you see the refined, slender figure of the man you love more than anything enter the stage. The applause swells like a cresting wave until he holds up his hand, Neptune calming the seas with a gesture.

“This piece is called “Das Glück der Schmetterlinge.” He makes an elegant turn on his heel, walking toward the grand piano. The audience holds its breath in anticipation.

You lean closer to Comte a moment, eyes still glued to Mozart as he seats himself on the shiny piano bench.

“I know that ‘Schmetterling’ is butterfly. Did you understand the rest?”

Comte tilts his head towards you. “My German isn’t perfect but I do believe it translates to ‘The Joy of Butterflies’.”

Warmth blooms in your chest as you lean back in your chair. Ah, so he did notice the butterfly that day.

Mozart raises his hands, elegant fingers poised over the black and white keys and then pauses, turning his head to face the audience one more time.

“I dedicate this piece to the most beautiful sound in the world.”

Murmuring ripples through the audience. What sound could the master of music think is the most beautiful thing in the world?

He closes his eyes and his hands begin moving, spinning magic from the first note on. His music always moves you, always reaches inside and wraps itself around your heart. But here….there was something here, something familiar. A repetition of notes that carries the entire song. Something about it tickles the back of your mind, a notion nebulous and cloudy but refusing to dissipate. It is only when you see le Comte smiling that you realize he has unlocked the secret. Again you lean close.

“It’s a beautiful piece,” you whisper, “but why does it feel so familiar? Mozart isn’t playing any of the songs he has written in the past.”

Comte waits a moment, the same series of notes ringing through the concert hall like beacons of sparkling light, enchanting the audience, before he turns his head, his mouth close to your ear.

“Mon chéri,” he says gently, voice brimming with warm amusement, “Do you not recognize the music of your own laughter?”

🎼

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial@alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome

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