Time Of Year I Remind Every Cane User To Get An Ice Pick So You Dont Fall And Die

time of year i remind every cane user to get an ice pick so you dont fall and die

Omg, thos was so cute! I usually don't enjoy modern AUs, because writers often discard the places, the plot and just put characters in our regular world, so your spin on it is awesome, even though the modern aspect isn't really discussed (still the details like Silco still being The eye of Zaun and Zaun existing in general, are very nice). And I loved the detail about transactional love and being scared of accepting help from others! I felt hat so much ugh, that was such a callout XD

I loved the dialogue between Silco and the reader, it was so cute! I imagine the reader sobering up from the anesthesia and being like "I'm so sorry you had to see that Sil, that was so embarassing..." while he's like "I'm so glad I went with you." XDDDD

Oh and after they come back from the clinic and reader "meeting" Jinx? How funny would that be?? "What's wrong with them?" "They're on strong meds, so they're a little out of it." Meanwhile the reader's like "Your hair is so pretty...Who are you?" "I'm your daughter!" And reader turns to Silco like "WE HAVE A CHILD??" Omg the chaos would be awful XD

Hi, hello! Do you know those cute videos where couples interact while one of them is on hard pain meds after stuff like getting wisdom teeth removed? Well, I would like to request a Silco x gn!reader who had to undergo a procedure like that and Silco visits them afterwards, but they're still zooted on the meds and they don't exactly remember who he is or that they're together, but they do know (and are not afraid to tell him) that he is very handsome. Just completely at aw about him. And when he tells them they're actually together?? The pure adoration from the reader?? The idea is too cute, I'm sorry. Just something fluffy and fun. But if that is not your cup of tea, that is completely fine too. Thank you!

This premise is so stinking cute! Thank you, Robin!

Foreign but Familiar

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Teen. 

Tags: Silco x gn!reader, fluff, domestic fluff, modern au, anesthesia, established relationship, feminine-style engagement ring but only because I like the thought of of Silco proposing with an emerald

Word count: 1,2k

Silco escorts you to get your wisdom teeth removed and is rewarded with a very loopy partner who doesn't remember becoming engaged to him.

“You promise you don't mind? I can get one of my friends to take me—”

“It's fine—”

“I just feel bad cause it's gonna be for a few hours and you're so busy. I don't want to pull you away—”

“I said it's fine—”

“Maybe I could call—”

Silco cuts you off with a stern call of your name. You blink, silenced.

“I told you I would take you, so that’s exactly what I’m doing,” your partner says, voice low. His mismatched eyes lock with yours, rooting you to the spot. 

It almost sounds like a threat, but you suppose that’s to be expected; you’ve never been good at accepting help from others. Your entire life, good deeds in your favor have been used as bargaining chips. Love was transactional, attached with strings. So it’s understandable that you have a hard time breaking those old habits, even when the person offering them is the Eye of Zaun. (Or perhaps because he’s the Eye of Zaun). 

The drive to the dentist is painfully quiet, allowing your mind to turn over anxious thoughts. You’d never been under anesthesia before. Your brain conjures up all possible scenarios—none of them good.

Silco must have sensed your unease because soon his hand is reaching past the gear shift toward you, palm warm against your knee.

“It’s going to be okay,” he coos, eyes focused ahead on the road. “It’s a standard procedure.”

You nod, lips pinched tight.

You put off having your wisdom teeth removed for far too long precisely because of your fear. It wasn’t until Silco encouraged you to finally get it over with that you made the appointment.

Everything goes by in a blur. Various people in scrubs give you forms to sign and tell you everything you need to know as far as the procedure itself as well as aftercare. You can barely hear them over the rushing sound in your eardrums, like an ocean wave that threatens to pull you under. You thank your lucky stars that Silco is there with you, nodding all the while as he listens intently, asking questions on occasion when he needs clarification.

Before you know it, you’re lying in the dentist chair, the bright yellow overhead light hitting your eyes. You squint and hear a calming voice next to you.

There’s a needle prick.

A few minutes of bated breathing.

Then sleep overtakes you.

When you awaken, you feel as if your body is weightless, like you’ll drift off and float to the sky if you’re not careful. Your face feels funny and your mouth feels full and dry. Groaning, you slowly take in the world around you. 

Everything is a blur of bright white walls and yellow lights, with the occasional blob of blue scrubs in your periphery. There’s shuffling and chatter around you, the dentist office busily moving along its day. 

You hear a voice somewhere to your right. It’s a low hum and strangely familiar, almost comforting. A soft (slightly loopy) smile on your lips, you lean toward the sound.

“Mmm…” you hum as you enjoy the melody of the voice next to you.

There’s a small chuckle at that as well as a call of your name and it sends you giggling.

“That’s me,” you say, grinning. “That’s my name.”

You lift your eyes to a blurry image of a face. Head tilting as you take it in, you see an ocean green eye on one side and a dark obsidian black eye on the other. Your eyebrows lift in curiosity as the figure comes more into focus.

Blush settles in your cheeks as you take in more of this stranger’s form. Deep valleys of scars along one side of his face, from his temple to his lips. 

His lips…

Without thinking, you lick yours before lifting your eyes to his, taking in the mismatched gaze.

“Ooooh…” you coo softly to yourself, your attention grabbed by the glowing orange of his corrupted eye. It swirls and dances, mesmerizing in its fluidity. You’re completely transfixed by it, unable to tear your eyes away in your drugged state.  “So pretty…”

The man calls your names and it startles you a little, breaking you out of your trance. 

“Hmm?”

He says something. You can’t quite hear it.

“What?”

He says it again. You can just barely make it out.

“How are you feeling?”

You offer the handsome man a wide cotton ball filled grin. “I’m feeling great.”

You hear giggling behind you from someone in a blue scrub. 

“It’s time to go home,” the man says. “Let’s go.”

Your eyebrows furrow as your head pulls back into your neck.

“Why would I… go home with you?” You squint your eyes at him. “I just met you.” You pout your lips, thinking as hard as the drugs will allow you. 

The man chuckles softly.

“I don’t care how handsome you are, you can’t kidnap me,” you mutter to yourself, but it’s much louder than you ever intended; volume control isn’t exactly one of the first things you regain after waking up. 

The man laughs at that one before reaching for your hand.

“Hey! What are you—”

“Do you remember when I gave you this?” the man asks, lifting your hand so that you see a beautiful ring on your ring finger, gold with a large emerald. It catches the light and shines in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Wow…” you breathe out, moving your hand this way and that so that it sparkles. 

You lift your eyes back to him, the gears in your foggy brain slowly churning. Looking back and forth between him and the ring, you manage to piece it together.

Though, not all of it.

Blush rushes to your cheeks and you bring both hands up to cover them, eyes wide.

“We’re married?!”

He shakes his head, laughing.

“Not yet, darling,” he coos. “But very soon.”

He lifts your hand again, his long fingers warm as they wrap around the tips of yours.

“I gave you this as a promise that we would.”

Your mouth hangs open.

“Well?” you ask. “What’s taking so long?”

He lets out a loud laugh at that one. You feel something warm within your chest at the sound. It feels both foreign yet comforting. Like it’s something precious and rare. Like it’s something only meant for your ears.

“You’re the one who set the date so far,” he explains.

You squint your eyes, unconvinced.

A beat.

“Actually, that does kind of sound like me…” you relent.

You find yourself in the passenger seat of a car, with absolutely no recollection of how or when you got there. Turning, you see that same man from before in the driver’s seat.

“Wait…” Your brain starts to slowly awaken, but not quite enough. “How am I supposed to marry you if I don’t even know your name?”

He chuckles, slowing the car down to a stop before turning to you. He smiles and it makes the lines in his scarred face seem shallower, his entire demeanor shifting to something softer.

“Silco.”

You blink.

“Silco…” you hum to yourself. 

Your mouth pulls into a small grin, secretive and giddy, as you allow your body to sink into the carseat. You repeat the name once more, liking the way it feels on your tongue. 

“Silco.”

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So heart touching and tender...I loved it. And the next part, oh...it was just beautiful amd exactly what I needed, even ifthough I didn't know that. Thank you <3

having an off day

Ophelia by Friedrich Heyser

>ikemen vampire

>mansion residents x reader

>a/n: so sorry for the weird formatting in advance. i hope it makes sense. enjoy! 

>part 2: how your evening and night went

You woke up with the weight of an oppressive dread. A black hole in you seemed to suck the vitality out of you. Usually your spirit was at least alive and willing to get you out of bed, but this morning, it was only dead static in your chest. You could chalk it up to feeling homesick or hopelessness with your predicament, but nonetheless, you were not up to it at all today. 

Still, you willed yourself out of bed, afraid to let Sebastian and the residents down (though you knew they wouldn’t fault you for being off, you still felt the obligation because Le Comte is letting you stay for free, after all.)

On that note, the residents would fs feel a disturbance in the force if you weren’t out in the mansion today. You not being there would set off a chain reaction and have them be grumpy and having off days too. 

While setting up breakfast with Sebastian, you asked for the cleaning tasks for the rest of the day. You loved the residents but unfortunately could muster up no energy to talk to anyone today. Sebastian's obviously the first to catch on, and as the mansion’s biggest gossip, will spread this notion to any and every vampire he encounters. Thankfully, he didn't question it and hesitantly granted you permission. He usually doesn’t give you the heavier tasks like cleaning, but seeing your dour mood, he caught on that you wanted the solitude. 

While passing out breakfast for the morning vampires (Arthur, Vincent, Theo, Dazai, Isaac, Mozart, Comte) you were unusually quiet. Usually, you would bashfully respond to Arthur’s flirty remarks or retaliate to Theo’s teasing, but today you only acknowledged everyone with a slight (and very forced) smile.

Dazai Osamu

I'm of the belief that Dazai has a sadness antenna that catches on to everyone’s emotions as soon as they feel them. So best believe that as soon as you woke up, he could already sense a disturbance in the force. 

So when you very quietly poured tea for him, he placed a gentle hand on your arm and gave you a silent “are you ok?” look. He could tell that you didn’t want to bring attention to yourself, but also didn’t want to leave you like this. 

The deal he made with you when you first arrived came to mind. He proposed that whenever you felt even the slightest inclination of sadness, that you came to him to confide in (because you know he gets it fs). 

You acknowledged it with a solemn nod, wanting to communicate that you remembered the promise but couldn’t do it just yet. Dazai pursed his lips in quiet uncertainty, but allowed you to continue your chores. 

Later in the afternoon, while tending to the gardens outside, Dazai nonchalantly sat by your working figure. He settled for watching you work before piping up, “how fortunate the flowers are to be cared for by you.” You may have jumped a little bit, having been lost in your thoughts. 

Dazai’s gentle smile seemed more genuine this time; not quite the clownish mask he usually wore. “Unfortunately for you, I may be the only one who understands your predicament the most.” He walked next to you, a serene silence in the air.  

You confess as much of your melancholy as you could put into words while Dazai remained contemplative and respectfully quiet. Whether it was your mental wellness being disturbed, thoughts of home, or even just a broad exhaustion, Dazai will listen and understand. Sometime during your tirade, tears seeped out from your eyes unnoticed, except by his golden eyes. He softly cupped your cheek and wiped your tears away; his touch never more than gentle. 

At that moment, Dazai touched your face as if it was a delicate flower petal about to fall to its demise. His heart clenched in both tender affection at your vulnerability around him, and deep anguish that it was you who suffered and he couldn’t take that burden instead. How was it that a beautiful angel like you was tormented at this moment and not him, the sinful monster who was deserving of your burden and more. Still, he kept those demeaning thoughts quiet and yearned that his love could be felt in his gentle touches to your cheek. 

Dazai is the most sensitive to others’ emotions and will be the first to catch on to any of your mood changes. He'd rather die than leave you toiling in your own sadness, so he’ll follow you around until you confide in him. As tragic as it is, it’s his responsibility to make sure no one else, and especially not someone he cares about so deeply like you, feels the same torture he does. 

Arthur Conan Doyle

The writers are perceptive and sensitive to people’s emotions and characters, and usually you love them for that. Today, it made you the slightest bit frustrated. With only a meek “thank you” to Arthur’s compliment of, “your beautiful face is the perfect start to this day, love” he knew something was wrong. 

You poured his coffee quietly, hoping no one would pay attention to you. Arthur placed a soft hand against your back and asked lowly, “are you alright? Did something happen?” you shook your head and gave him an appreciative smile. 

You moved to pour Theo’s drink next, but Arthur’s arm wrapped around your waist. He motioned for you to come closer and so you leaned down.

“I've got to run errands in town today, but I'll find you once I get back. Do you think you can talk to me then?” he whispered. 

“I'm not sure.”

“I hate to leave you like this, love, really. At least promise me you can hold out until later and you can take all your frustration out on me, yes?” you find yourself laughing a little at his suggestion. He smiled in victory and gave your waist a small squeeze before letting you go.

Once Arthur returns from his errands, it’s just nearing lunch. True to his word, he finds you in the mansion (good luck evading his genius mind) and vows to take you out for a meal. You can refuse all you want, but it truly does wound him seeing you the slightest bit upset. Maybe his past influences that, but nonetheless, he wants to make you happy. 

He’ll do everything in his power to make you laugh, and if that doesn’t work, he’ll try and pester you so that you take your anger out on him. 

He treats you like a princess during the date, hooking his arm under yours, pushing your chair in, paying for everything, and if you were up to it, taking you shopping afterwards. 

He’ll try and seek out a case nearby as those tend to cheer you up and serve as a welcome distraction. 

Whether you choose to confide in him or not, he might have already caught on to what made you upset and will subtly offer a word of advice or comfort, depending on whichever you needed. And he’s perceptive enough to catch on to what you need. 

Nevertheless, the author’s darling attempts of alleviating your mood will likely be a success. Arthur is one of the tragic ones who would rather suffer than even endure the thought of his cared ones being upset. And you’re the one who brought new light into his revived life, so admittedly, he enjoys being there for you. If you allow him past your walls, Arthur would do just about everything to prove it was worth doing so. His care may be hidden under layers of deceptive and cliché flirtation, but a little unravelling shows just how tenderly he cares for you. So while his attempts do reflect that playboy life, the warm hand on your back proves there is no one in this new life he treasures more than yourself. 

Theodorus van Gogh

Still feeling Arthur’s and Dazai’s worried looks on your back, you moved on to Theo, who was unfortunately, less perceptive than the two. 

“Took you long enough, hondje. Dogs aren’t known to be so slow.” he huffed, having already placed a generous amount of sugar in his cup. You could barely register the small, “sche uit, Theo,” from Vincent. Still, his comment served to sour your mood even further, a sinking feeling in your heart suddenly blurring your eyes. 

Your spatial awareness being off, you almost overfilled Theo’s cup. This time, he took notice of your shaky and meek manner. He was about to complain, but when you turned to him to apologise, he saw your teary eyes.

“You hurt? What happened? Who hurt you?” Theo immediately asked in concern. You shook your head in alarm. His handsome face scrunched in concern, and he reached out to seize your arm to steady its shaking. He set down the coffee pot and checked if your arm got burnt. 

he gruffly passed the coffee pot to his brother, and when he was faced with questioning looks from the rest of the table he simply said, “you pour your own damn coffee.” He motioned for you to leave, wanting to relieve you of your duties for this morning as a small mercy. 

Theo is unfortunately one of the busier men of the mansion, so he can’t do much until the evening when he returns. So despite the tense morning, there’s no resolution until after supper. what his words can’t deliver though, his actions do. 

Regardless of how many residents have comforted you, you remained silent and thoughtful. Their efforts were greatly appreciated, but your energy was still depleted. 

Theo catches you right after cleaning up with Sebastian. He hid a large box behind his broad back, strangely timid from his usual bold character. He cleared his throat, “hondje, I brought you something home from work. you told me you liked this last time I took you out for a walk.” 

He stepped aside to show you the large and very sweetly decorated cake in the box. you knew how expensive it was, and for a man like Theo, who was quite savvy with money, you felt a tinge of guilt for making him waste money on you. 

“Theo, thank you. I don't know what to say, you really didn’t have to.”

“Hush hondje. A master’s supposed to take care of his puppy. And you’ve been working hard lately—you deserve a little treat.” 

Of course, Theo indulges in the dessert with you, he may have bought it partly for himself too. But when he saw you enjoying something he gave you, it warmed his heart. Perhaps your smile is sweeter than any dessert he’s had before—and he’s got quite a sweet tooth. 

Theo can be brash, and not nearly as emotionally perceptive as the others. So initially, he’ll be his usual gruff and teasing self. But he’s a good man (savannah), and will always serve you, regardless of the master-puppy dynamic he’s got going on. He’s weak to you, and would hand you the world just to get a glimpse of your sweet smile again. He can’t have his pretty girl sad, that makes him a terrible master. 

Vincent van Gogh

You shook your head, insisting that you stay to help Sebastian. Theo disapprovingly shook his head and tried to stop you from doing more work, but you’d already moved to Vincent’s side. 

Vincent already caught on as soon as Theo asked if you were okay. He poured his coffee himself, so you passed him the small bowl of butter and served a plate of sliced fruit to help. Vincent gently stroked your back, “Schatje, we’re just fine here, you can sit down. Have you had breakfast yourself yet?” knowing you never liked to put yourself first. 

“I'm just fine, Vincent. thank you.” you stuttered out. He hummed in concern, “Sebas told me you were doing laundry outside today. I'll come help you, if that’s alright?” you shook your head, touched at his kind offer, but dreadful over having a companion. As sweet as Vincent was, you were afraid of being too brash with him, with how short your patience was today. 

“We don't have to talk or anything, I'm offering because I want to, mc. please?” Vincent’s pleading eyes were too precious, so you gave him a hesitant nod. 

Vincent brightened up, his angelic smile lifting your spirits up slightly. with a warm day like today, he usually painted outside anyway. at least you wouldn’t have to be with him the whole time. 

He gave your arm an appreciative squeeze before you left. you weren’t sure how to thank him exactly. 

True to his word, the moment you stepped foot outside, you were greeted with his “could heal any and every problem in the world” smile. He was extra handsome wearing his simple, white, button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up. 

You gave him an appreciative nod, a bit flustered with having someone help you with such a simple task. Still, Vincent pleasantly hummed with no complaints, hanging the clothes you washed. 

It’s true that his hands were blessed by god, but his somewhat clumsy work with clipping the clothes on the line was a contrast to his paintings. Still, his determined expression dispelled any frustration you had, with how hardworking and adorable he was. 

With Vincent’s help (and the soft melody of Mozart's distant piano playing), the laundry was hung in sufficient time. other than having tea with Comte, you really didn’t have much left to do this early afternoon. Vincent cutely tilted his head in curiosity at your zoned out face. 

When he giggled, you snapped out of your stupor and glanced questioningly at him. “sorry! you’re just so cute staring into space like that.” Flustered, you faced away from him. 

“Don’t just say things like that Vincent. you’ll give me the wrong idea.”

“I mean it though. you’re adorable even just breathing.” He was doing that thing where he innocently compliments you, but just like his brother, actually wants to see you flustered. 

“Vincent!”

“and now you’re even lovelier when you’re all embarrassed!” Vincent chuckled, finally relenting when your hands fully covered your burning face. 

“Sorry for teasing you. I was just hoping I could make you smile. I know I'm not nearly as funny as Napoleon, or as dependable as Leonardo, but it hurts me to see you in pain, mc.” Vincent gently pried your hands away, holding them in his bigger and warmer ones. He stroked your palms in gentle circles. 

Really, he wanted to just wrap you in an embrace and hoped that you would let out your emotions to him. But he knew you needed time and patience before confiding in him. If you allowed it, he would stay all-day with you, just comforting and listening to any of your vulnerable confessions you chose to indulge him to. 

Eventually, you did relent to receiving a warm hug from him. you couldn’t see his face, but he was overjoyed you felt safe enough with him to do so. 

Angelic Vincent wishes he could take any and every pain you feel and take it all himself. It truly breaks his heart seeing your usually bright spirit so down, so he’ll do everything he can to comfort you. He’s patient and gentle; never crossing any of your boundaries and allowing you to take whatever you need and however long it takes you to find that out. He’ll help you with your work, sing you to sleep, feed you treats (that you hope he didn’t make), and give you as much or as little as you need. He cares about you deeply and only hopes he can be enough to cure at least a little bit of the pain you feel. 

Comte de Saint-Germain

Comte's face was already scrunched in worry from the moment you entered the dining hall. his calm and elegant demeanour belied it, but he was eager to finally talk to you. Once you reached his side, you swore you could almost hear the sigh of relief. 

“I speak for everyone when I say that no one can start their day right without seeing your face, chérie.” Ever the romantic, Comte wants to reassure you that you’re wanted (needed actually), and that he appreciates your being there. 

You’d be hard-pressed not to feel flustered by his words. “You’re exaggerating, Comte, but thank you.” Your usual routine consisted of having tea with Comte in the early afternoon, but you weren’t sure you’d make good company. “about later today comte—“

“I'll have the tea and desserts set up. i’ve found this new patisserie in the city—“

“comte, i’m really sorry—“

“You don’t have to do any work, mc. I want you to take a break.” He was clearly well-intentioned and the break did sound tempting. so with much hesitation, you relented to comte’s demands. 

Perhaps a little part of you dreaded it, knowing how protective Comte was over you. He’ll pry, and if he found out that it was another person’s doing that caused your mood, he’ll cause a riot (gracefully and elegantly, mind you). He was already waiting at the garden’s gazebo, a spread of various sweet pastries and steaming tea set up for you. 

He perked up upon seeing you, pushing your chair in as you sat down. He poured you tea and placed one of each pastry on your plate while you hopelessly tried to stop him. 

“I'm simply ecstatic you could join me today, ma chérie.” he hummed, sipping his tea. 

“It's not anyone’s fault, it’s just me.” You wanted to clear up what you knew he was itching to find out. his shoulders sagged down in relief for a brief moment before settling back into his perfect posture. 

“That's a relief, but I still want to make sure you’re okay, mc. Come, have some tea.” 

You could feel Comte’s golden eyes watching your every move, but otherwise, the tea was excellent and he was certainly generous with all the pastries. 

The real surprise was later in the night, after dinner, when comte asked you to meet him in his office. He was on the balcony, gazing out to the Parisian landscape (he would have been smoking then, but he tries not to). 

“You called for me, comte?” 

“Ah yes. mc.” The way he said your name was admittedly a bit seductive when accompanied by his golden eyes. he had this excited air about him, unknown if it was for innocent or more sinful reasons. He motioned towards a concerningly large box on his table. you opened it, and to your surprise (not really let’s bfr), there was a beautiful silk dress in your favourite colour. 

Comte moved close from behind you, and with a quiet “may i?” he delicately  put a necklace on your neck, the light brush of his fingers dizzying. 

He trailed his hands down to your shoulders and squeezed them, before descending to your arms. “ma chérie, i want to make you feel better. how can i do that for you?” he rubbed your arms up and down before wrapping around your body altogether. 

In this position, you could cry in peace, ramble in frustration, or be silent and enjoy his embrace without fear of judgement. He couldn’t see your expression, to save any embarrassment on your end, but he’s still there. 

Comte will definitely be protective and try and figure out if it was anyone made you upset. He would commit a murder to whoever did, but if there wasn’t anyone, he’d focus on making you feel better. His love language is gifts, quite obviously, but I also like to believe that he’s an acts of service guy who’d want to make things at least a little easier for you, like giving you a break. He'd want to reward you with gifts, expensive, but the kind that he knows you like. and if that doesn’t show you he cares about you, he’ll stay long enough to help you recover; in a way, he feels proudly possessive, knowing you could show your vulnerability to only him. 

Napoleon Bonaparte

As one of the late risers, you were tasked with waking him up in the morning. you did your usual routine of ripping the blankets off him and blocking his kiss with your hand. this time though, you left the former emperor be, once you caught sight of his half-opened eyes. 

He took a minute to catch on to your disappearance (forgive him, he’s half-awake) but as soon as it registered in his sleepy brain, he zoomed out of his room to catch your retreating figure. 

You knew he was one of the persistent men of the mansion, unable to leave you alone even when you weren’t upset. so this time around, he was hellbent on following you until you’d answer his inquiries. 

“Nunuche? what’s gotten into you?” he would quickly catch up to you and grip your arm until you show him your teary face. And only then would he relent and hold your hand instead.

You could confide in him and tell him about all your problems, because after all, he was the man who saved you and vowed to protect you all this time. However, even if you didn’t at that moment, nothing would stop Napoleon from making you feel better. 

He would briefly venture into town to absolve him of any of his guard duties so he could remain at your side the entire day. Perhaps a bit of an overreaction on his part, but owing his new life to you, he wanted to prioritise you above all else. 

Unlike a certain lazy Italian, this Italian will politely request that you be relieved of your tasks, and though you insisted on at least completing the laundry with Vincent and having tea with Comte, you relented to his demands. 

His usual routine was to take you to the stables and run as far as you can on his horse. It was often what helped him dispel the ghosts from his past; the coolness of the afternoon wind was a soothing balm to your face that was drenched with hot tears. He would childishly ignite a race between the two of you through the vast woods surrounding Comte’s mansion, if only to ease your heavy mind with a far less laborious task. 

He’d lead you to a small meadow on the outskirts of the fields, far from prying eyes and ears. There you can let any emotion out: whether that was a yell of frustration, a scream of rage, or harsh sobs, Napoleon will do it first, if it removes any embarrassment on your end. 

Whether you choose to confide in him or not, (which you likely would, considering how unyieldingly supportive and protective Napoleon had been for you thus far) Napoleon will willingly listen to anything you say. You could wax cheesy poetry, ponder about the origins of the universe, or just recall mundane moments in the mansion, but Napoleon will respond in kind to any silly statement you make. 

Napoleon of all people wouldn’t be opposed to having a nap on the soft, dewy grass, under the blanket of the warm setting sun. Once it gets cold though, he’d take you back to the mansion. 

If you still felt overwhelmed, he would bring you up to the attic that overlooked the Paris skyline. 

Napoleon, as he hopes that you consider him one of your closest companions, would do everything in his power to ease your pain. He’d begin by alleviating your work for the day, and whether that entailed him undertaking those chores or simply helping you with them, he’d do anything. Then, he might try what works best for him when he has his off days, usually in regard to the past, but allow you to dictate what he can or can’t do. Really, he hopes that whatever he does dispels those clouds of anguish and replaces it with some good old Napoleon humour. As the evening closes in, he’d take you to the attic. With only the stars and the moon as your witness, Napoleon would do everything in his power to bring you comfort. 

sorry that i wasn't able to write for everyone in this post, but I'll feature the rest (Leonardo, Isaac, Mozart, Jean, and a few bonus characters) on the next post. i just wanted to get some content out now.

if you made it this far, thank you so much for spending your time on my writing. lmk if you enjoyed it (or didn't, but pls be nice abt it I'm sensitive). have a great day, my dear <3

I've thought long and hard for this request.

Can I ask for a wire jeweler MC gifting Mozart a brooch that she made in exchange for the crescent moon earring he gave her? (I am talking about him too much because of the brainrot)

The brooch looks similar to this but with his color palette.

I've been into wire jewelry recently and this one caught my eye.

Thank you in advance!!

SUMMARY: you give mozart a gift.

WARNINGS: none!! :D

COMMENTS: HI COOKIE AJSHDGJASHGD AND HELLO IKEVAMP REQUESTS IM JUST GETTING TO NOW!!!

this is unedited again please leave me alone JHAHSFDHGASD

“What's this?” he asks softly, delicate hands cupping the brooch you bestowed upon him.

“Repayment. I didn't want you to feel like I didn't care for you just as much as you care for me...especially after you gifted me such a beautiful earring.” you reply, clasping your hands together as he examines your gift.

“Did you make this yourself?” he asks again, yet another question that only serves to make you more nervous.

You nod your head in the affirmative. He sucks in a breath and smiles, so brilliantly it almost knocks you off your feet. Mozart’s eyes soften with his gentle affection, and he hands the brooch back to you.

“Will you put it on?” he says softly, and you know if he ever asked for anything like that again you would fall to your knees and obey him.

And so, you do.

You step closer and coax your shaking hands to pin the brooch on his lapel. Mozart’s arms sneak around your waist, and the second your precious gift is secure, he buries his face in your neck and kisses the bare skin he finds.

“Thank you, my love.” he croons, and it's almost unbearable the way his lips move against your skin, “I love you with everything I have.”

You tell him that just loving you with himself is enough. He lifts his head just enough to press a languid kiss against your lips, and just like that you’re falling again.

Blood really doesn't taste that bad, at least mine doesn't (don't act like you have never put your bleeding finger in your mouth after you cut yourself or something) so I'd try it to see if it tasted any different.

Ok so. I have a question. If there was a full glass of human blood in front of you, and the was absolutely no health risk to drinking it, like, that's not ever a factor, how much of it do you think you would drink? Because I would at least take one solid gulp.

Need

Rating: Explicit || Word Count: ~900 Content Warnings: female anatomy, no pronouns for reader, possessive vibes, boss/employee, confessions (of lust), p in v sex, silco's pull-out game is WEAK

Masterlist || AO3 Link

beta reader: @silcoitus <3

“You know, when I said you needed– fuck– pussy, this wasn’t e-exactly what I had in mind.”

Silco ponders your statement over a handful of thrusts, hips drilling into the backs of your thighs hard enough so you know they’ll be sore come tomorrow.

He offers a coy little smirk that you can all but hear in his voice, “Do you want to stop?”

Gods, why would he even ask that question; who would want to stop? You don’t want to think about how good he is at fucking you, how godly his cock is. You don’t want to think about how every fuck before this pales in comparison to the precision and skill that Silco has. You don’t want to think about how divine it feels to be filled over and over by the bastard, but as he threatens to make you come rather quickly, these thoughts are all you can comprehend in your fuckdrunk mind.

You grit your teeth. “No.”

“Good,” he grunts, “I don’t plan on stopping any time soon.”

You hadn’t meant much with your off-handed comment in the first place. Sure, you don't mind the thought of fucking your boss, but it wasn’t quite how you planned your evening to go.

Silco was slumped over his desk, glaring down his bladed nose at a looming stack of papers. Your quips started out more modest, commenting on how he looked “like the living dead” and something about melting into the expensive mahogany of his desk.

“Do you perhaps have a solution?” He had groaned, a futile attempt to hasten your visit to his office.

That was when you said it–you need some pussy–and Silco went stiff, in both ways, as soon as the words left your mouth. He'd shot up out of his chair and you were ready to start running until his hand snapped out and snatched your wrist.

“Is that so?” You could see the way his tongue flicked behind his teeth, and how his eyes drank you in.

It was only a matter of time before you were bent over the desk and his cock was pushing into you.

“How long have you wanted this, sweetheart?” Silco’s voice is ragged with the depths of his pleasure, a sadistic rasp that echoes over and over in your fuckdrunk mind.

“Fuckin’, uhhnn…” you trail off in thought, lost in the rapture of a particularly good few thrusts that have your eyes rolling into your skull.

You can feel Silco's smug gaze raking hot over your backside, the press of him a questioning prod now. “Well?” He taunts you cruelly, leaning close to wind an arm around your middle and circle your clit, purring in your ear, “don’t be shy.”

“Oh, gods,” you sigh, “since that fucking interview.”

Your cheeks are hot with that confession. You hadn’t planned on fucking Silco, but you couldn’t deny you thought he was a good serving of dick when you met him. The way he carries himself, the manner in which he speaks to those below his level, the way he certainly looked over your body during that interview.

“Mmm, I remember that day,” he groans, “I even remember what you were wearing.”

You clench around him in surprise, your nails scratching against the wood of the desk as Silco settles for grinding his hips into your ass.

“Sheer tank top, and those coy little shorts.” Silco’s voice is still deep and rumbling as he fucks you, but it goes without saying he’s rather fond of this memory. “You were ready to give me a show if I didn’t want to hire you.”

His lips tease against your back, the edge of his smile nipping at your skin. “You had me tempted, but it was well worth the wait.”

He's right, you did underdress. So many employers had rejected you that week and you were fully prepared to suck dick for a job, or maybe more. But you can't let him have that.

“It was hot outside,” you retort, but your vocal chords abandon the firmness you had wanted, words melting around a whine. Silco leans back, rooting both his hands on your hips as he drills into you, working towards his climax.

“I don't care for the weather, you were mine the moment I hired you,” Silco hisses, delivering a quick pinch to the back of your thigh, “now touch yourself.”

You couldn't resist if you tried, already so close to your peak that denying yourself would be too much. Your fingers are on your clit in a matter of milliseconds, and your walls must clamp down tight when you do because Silco grunts, thrusts becoming arrhythmic.

With just a few swipes on your clit, your back is bowing, hips rocking against Silco as your climax spears through you. He fucks you through it, fingers bruising your hips and pulling you into each frantic snap against your backside.

Eventually Silco abandons your pleasure to work on his own, rutting into you until he buries himself as deep as he can get. A long groan accompanies his orgasm as his cock throbs against your walls, filling you until his release starts to leak out.

He collapses on top of you, nearly crushing you as he catches himself with a hand on the desk.

As he begins to soften inside of you, he laughs to himself.

“I suppose I did need that.”