Ikevamp Arthur - Tumblr Posts

Napoleon locked me in his room by accident (sure the marquis de sade used probably the same excuse xDDD)

~✯  Ikemen Vampire Birthday Scenario Game  ✯~

Since the one I created for the ObeyMe! Fandom got quite popular I decided to create another one, this time featuring the IkeVamp suitors! 

Character = Month you were born in

Scenario = Day you were born

Reason = Color of the shirt you’re wearing right now

(some of the combinations might not fit together so well, I tried my best though !)

Reblog and share your results and thoughts with others to double the amount of fun ~ 

So here the first picture of my Ikemen Vampire Mc/ Oc: Gwiyndolin Black

Asks for her are always open

I mean is this canon or did the artist just screwed things up a bit at that point? It looks as weird as theodorus' hat...

Okokokokok

I mean Arthur, sure you are really fucking hot but.....

Your hANDS

Like, kinks aside I was enjoying that big hand but now I see Theo's next to it hOLY SHIT

Some huge ass hands

I don't know whether to be aroused or terrified...

Maybe Arthur would like salt'n'vinegar chips because they remind him of fish'n'Chips...

Thinking about what favourite chips flavour each ikevamp member would have... somebody any suggestions ???

Hello there ! I am all for new blogs and I just saw you were taking requests for ikemen vampire and so I decided to send in a request :) So how do you think Vincent, Mozart, Napoleon, Shakespeare and Arthur would react to discovering MC was an amazing actress by stumbling upon one of her movies ? Thank you so so much :))

Hello~Thank you for your support, i really appreciate it!Also, thank you for requesting!I hope you like it~

Warnings:Bad English (I’m sorry, it’s not my mother language!)

Game: Ikemen Vampire

Characters: Vincent Van Gogh, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Napoleon Bonaparte (Born to Party), William Shakespear and Arthur Conan Doyle.

Type: Headcanons

This takes place in the modern time.(The boys travelled with the MC.)

Vincent Van Gogh:

One day, Vincent stumbled upon a shiny box.He was very curious, so he opened it.(Of course, he had your permission.)

His face lit up when he saw his gorgeous girlfriend on the cover.

The more he looked at the DVDS, the more he wanted to learn about them, so he took one and put it in the DVD player.(after a lot of struggling.)

Not even ten minutes in the movie and he had already fallen for your acting.

The way you fought and the way you talked was enough for Vincent to fall in love with you all over again.

“My angel is so beautiful and strong!”He was smilling so hard whenever you were on the screen, that his cheeks were hurting.

He is so soft for you, that he laughed everytime you laughed and cried when you did.

He is already making fanart and he joins all the fandoms available.He has his own blog where he posts his fanart.

When you returned to your home, you found tones of detailed sketches with you as the protagonist.

And thousands of kisses.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart:

Mozart was very surprised to say the least.

He was bored, so he turned on the TV, but nothing caught his attention.

He desided to change one more channel and he found himself looking at you, in elegant clothes, playing the violin.

‘Wait, where you in a consert?’He read the information and understood that it was simply a movie.

Mozart was blushing madly while listening to you.Your music was good and the interactions between the characters was exiting.He would never say it out loud.

He also wouldn’t admit that he was captivated and thinking of writing a piece for you to play.

Your face was so emotional in every scene.He was a bit jealous that others could see those expressions of your.

When you returned from your work, you got bombarded with questions and a very emotional Mozart (and his wet wipes), who wanted hugs to distract him, because he saw you dying in a movie.

Napoleon Bonaparte:

Napoleon was watching a few movies with swordfighting and would you look at that!

“Is my nunuche one of those stars?Damn, she’s good!”Napoleon was impressed (and turned on) with the way you were fighting.

He remembered the time you told him that you were taking lessons, but never knew the reason why.

Now that explained a lot.

Another thing that caught his eye was the interactions between the characters and his ‘nunuche’.

Your face was harder to read than normal.It was challenging for him.

You were acting like another person and he was captivated.

By the time you woke up, he had accounts in every social network, which were full of posts filled with admiration.

William Shakespear:

This man knew that you had potential.

He is watching you every dayand all those expressions and theatrical moves are “screaming” talent for him.

Until that fateful day, where he went to the cinema and found a huge poster and your gorgeous figure as the heroine.

Shakespear didn’t want anyone to distract him from watching it, so he bought ALL the tickets for the premiere.

The day comes by and you’re in his arms, while he guides you to the best seats.

Throughout the duration of the movie, his eyes are changing from happy, to sad and everything in between.

“You are amazing, my dearest.Thou are art itself.”He spoke smoothly.

In his mind, he has new ideas for senarios and the protagonist is you!

He is pretty sure that you could enchant everyone with your acting.

Arthur Conan Doyle:

Arthur already knew these was something going on with you and acting.

Your bright eyes, the way your body was ready to move and act in every live performance the both of you went.

Days after your last date, he was alone in your house.He was extremely bored, resulting in finding a gigantic stack of films.

Arthur was glad he was right.He was smirking up until he saw a cover of you kissing another handsome man.

He was extraordinarily envious, but when he played the movie, he was awed by your acting.

“You’re so talented, luv.”

A badass scene came up and he was cheering so badly, the neighbours called to complain.

The time you set your foot in your apartment, he is kissing and hugging you.

Expect a lot of praise.

I really hope you enjoyed it!Request are still open~

NadiaSilver~

Could I please request some unrequited love headcanons for Comte, Theo, Arthur, and Leonardo?

A/N: Hello anon! I've left Leonardo out because he just got a very long fic and the others don't have quite as many requests so I wanted to let them have their time to shine. I hope that's ok!

Word Count: 964

Comte de St. Germain

Pushing aside the heavy velvet curtain, Comte has a perfect view down into the sunlit garden and a perfect view of you. Of both of you. Leonardo has set up his easel and is watching you attempt to paint the wooden gazebo with its clinging vines and flowering bushes. He leans over your shoulder, reaching around you and covers your hand with his, guiding your brush strokes. Comte’s sharp golden eyes zero in on the way his long fingers curl around your delicate wrist, the flirtatious, downward cast of your eyelashes, the sensual smile playing over Leonardo’s lips.

You turn to look at Leonardo, your faces so very close, and Comte’s breath is held prisoner in his lungs. Your eyes, even at this distance, are bright as stars, your cheeks rival the pink petals of the roses you’re trying to capture. His chest begins to burn. There is undeniable longing in the tilt of your head, the inviting pout of your lips. What would he give to have that perfect expression of admiration and yearning aimed at him?

Leonardo leans forward, as unable to resist you as the tide could the enthralling pull of the moon. The paintbrush falls from your fingers, abandoned, as you wrap your arms around him, your body melting into his impassioned embrace.

Leo deserves happiness. This is the mantra that gallops through Comte’s mind, over and over, even as he tries to ignore the agonizing ache in his chest. He closes the curtain once more with a trembling hand. Now he stands, slumped in darkness, his heart a flower without sunlight, without water, slowly withering away.

Theodorus van Gogh

One of the best things about walking through Paris on a clear afternoon, just before evening breaks and spills its lavender and orange and pink across the sky, is using the fading light that is left to admire the street artists and their work.

Vincent’s fingers are laced through yours, strong and protective as you move across the Pont des Arts, taking in the different paintings, all sizes and subject matters, that the different street artists are displaying, trying to make a sale. You pause in front of a painting of tiny calico kittens in a basket. “Oh look!” Vincent smiles, soft and affectionate as he nods, immediately engaging the artist in a conversation about brush types and which paint they used. You are content to listen, unable to hide the sunshine of open admiration you have for him. Your smile is radiant with it. Your eyes sparkle with it.

Theo pretends to be deeply interested in a smaller painting of a doomed ship out at sea during a violent storm. Normally he would spend time studying the black, thrashing waves with their white caps, noting the way the artist created movement, how they captured the chaos of nature gone feral with their brushstrokes. But he is distracted. Because rather than stare at the painting and study it, he is staring at something he considers a perfect piece of aesthetics: you. He has long since memorized the line of your cheekbones, the curve of your jaw, the perfect symmetry of your lips. Your eyes are a color that has never existed for him until he saw them. They are the bright window to the part of you he admires most: your kind and gentle heart, that luminous part of you that shines resplendent as a harvest moon.

And now those eyes are fixed on his brother as if he were the one who hung all stars in the sky. Your fingers are locked tight with his, laced together, a perfect pairing. His jaw clenches as he turns back to the painting of the wild, roiling sea. He has that same turbulent ocean inside of him every time he sees you look at Vincent that way. It floods his heart, dragging it down into the black depths of despair, leaving him as windswept and lost as the small, broken ship in the painting.

Arthur Conan Doyle

Of all people, why Newt? Newt with his wide, cherry-blossom eyes and slight frame, his dislike of people and a good time. His mind which so easily winds its way through impossible equations but cannot small-talk its way out of a paper bag. That Newt is who you have chosen to love. The one you have decided is allowed to receive all of your warm smiles, your tender touches, the melody of your laughter.

He caught you one night. Strolling back from a tryst with one of his regulars, the sweet taste of blood stilling lingering on his lips. He entered the mansion through the garden gates at the back. As he made his way quietly as a shadow around towards the front, a certain sound caught his attention.

He stops, ducking behind the gazebo when he spots you and Isaac. Evidently you had come out into the garden at night to do a bit of stargazing. Isaac’s telescope is set up, pointed toward the sky. But it is abandoned, left to gaze on its own. You and Isaac seem to have gotten distracted, laying on an oversized picnic blanket, wrapped in each other’s arms. Gripping the wooden railing of the gazebo, Arthur’s sharp blue eyes note the details: the way your fingers are white, curled so tightly against Isaac’s shoulders; the way his leg is pressed between yours, the tilt of your head, baring your sensitive throat to him. And that sound, the one that caught his attention, the sharp gasping of your breath as his lips feast on the bare skin of your shoulder, the slope of your neck.

Green-eyed jealousy roars inside of Arthur’s heart. His fingers are bloodless as they grip the railing. The lingering taste of another woman’s blood suddenly turns sour, curdling like rancid milk on his tongue. He doesn’t want her, or anyone else. The woman he wants, the one he dreams of, is currently in the arms of another man. And all he sees now is red.

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

Ugh. Darling. I literally typed these up immediately after your first post about angst/tension. My submissions for Broken Heartstrings:

One that would kill me is the build of MC working themselves sick. Only to find out it gave way for another, more serious illness. And if that was with Arthur or Sariel.

As for accidents, especially if it was MC protecting her love (and that if she hadn't, they would be in the same position as her), my brain dies a little at how Theo would react. Or Chev.

I'm so ready for the angst 😈

A/N: here you are, @yarnnerdally ! 💜

cw: sickness, injury, violence, blood

WC: 1421

Arthur

Why is getting out of bed so damn hard? Your bones feel like they are made of lead, your muscles barely able to lift them. You’ve been working so hard, but you always managed to push through. Until today. You’re tired, you admit to Arthur. Even those few words are difficult through a throat dry as the desert steppes. And they're thorny. This admission of weakness scrapes against your teeth, digs into your tongue. You don't want to worry him….

But his blue eyes are bright with worry, endless oceans of worry when he notices the lethargy of your movements, the hand pressed against your chest. His concern is chasms-deep because this is not the first time he's seen this, this deflated version of you. It's been happening over days, weeks. It's knocked at the window of his medical mind only to be shuttered and kept out by his apprehensive heart.

It’s nothing, you say. Your words are hollow. He hears the gray exhaustion that colors them, he sees the pallor in your cheeks, the dimming of your bright eyes. It’s nothing you repeat to his retreating form. He knows illness when he sees it and he can't deny it any longer. He wants a second opinion to quiet the riot of fear that flies through his mind.

It’s nothing, you say, shooting Arthur and Comte a weak look of annoyance even as the doctor they’ve brought around presses the cold diaphragm of the stethoscope against your back. He shushes you to silence and if you had the energy to glare, you would. He listens to your breathing, your heartbeat, his wrinkled fingers wrapping around your wrist, counting under his breath. He examines your body with astute eyes, his expression professionally inscrutable, chiseled in stone. And then he leaves the room, taking both vampires with him. 

You strain to hear what they are saying but the door is only open a few centimeters and their words float away from you like smoke.

When he re-enters the room, Arthur's face immediately tells you more than any of his words ever could: The lines of worry etched into the sides of his mouth, the press of his brows, the unnatural gleam in his eyes, a sky on fire. The way he sinks into the chair by your bedside like Atlas with the weight of the world on his shoulders. His two hands find yours, clasping that thin appendage, tenderly. Devoutly.

Words are delivered with a voice that does its best not to shake and often fails. Winding through affirmations of love you hear the soft, off-key clang of anxiety, you hear things like “blood sickness”, “Dr. Virchow”, “bruising”, “fatigue”, “rest”. He does not need to say it. There is an unmistakable undercurrent of sorrow, a whirlpool of abject uncertainty and misery in his voice. He brings your hand to his lips like a prayer. Anyone else could rise on a tide of false hope, could use their lack of medical knowledge, their ignorance, as a buoy to keep them hoping for a miracle. But not Arthur. He knows the truth, he sees its ugly maw in the distance, wide-open and waiting patiently while the disease runs its course and ultimately delivers you into its jaws, taking you from him forever.

Your eyes are closed. His voice, so beloved to you, has lulled you to sleep. The words you'll deal with another time. When you're not so tired. For now it's enough that he's with you, head bowed over you, a blade of grass yielding to the winds of an oncoming storm. Bending. But not breaking. As long as you draw breath, he will find the strength to stay whole, to hold the pieces of his soul together. For you. 

Theo

It starts like any other day. Another opulent mansion. Another patron looking to make it even more opulent by hanging an eye-catching painting. Theo in his smart business suit, strategically flashing his dazzling, white-toothed smile; you offering a gentler version of that smile whenever the patron you're persuading turns his curious gaze in your direction. 

In a wood-paneled office surrounded by rich furnishings and a massive mahogany desk, with sunset's warm colors washing over all of you through crown glass windows, you do not hear the sound of the heavy front door opening, the thud as the butler falls to the Italian marble floor, the dull footsteps heading straight towards the office.

The embellished wooden door to said office is ajar and opens with a wild swing, slamming into the thick walnut bookcase with a heartstopping bang. You jump and then your mind goes blank as the sight of an armed gunman strikes your brain like lightning. 

And then time slows. The world blurs like a hand swiping across a freshly painted canvas. The gunman demands money. However he's not staring at the patron but Theo. He's mistakenly assumed Theo, in his expensive suit, is the wealthy owner of this villa. The gun shakes in his hand, aimless, not focused on anyone but rather acting as a threat of what could be. His voice trembles when he demands money. Sweat drips down his temple, soaking into the frayed edges of the worn rag tied around his lower face.

Suddenly your patron makes a run for the door and chaos explodes. All you see is the gunman turning, the gun now steadily pointing at Theo, a target in his addled mind. 

And you fly, wings on your feet, body reacting automatically. The gun spits out its bullet from a mouth full of sound and fury, and what would have lodged itself in Theo's stomach strikes your back instead. A blossom of red. A spray of crimson droplets. And then your world narrows, darkness closing in until it has taken you completely.

……….Theodorus……..

He refuses to leave your bedside. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t changed out of his bloodstained clothing. Whose blood it is, he isn’t sure. Yours, when he cradled your limp body against his chest, heavy with the anvil of disbelief and shock. The gunman’s when he turned, a monster born of fury and pain, and exacted the toll for daring to hurt you. 

Never has he moved so quickly, never have his legs swallowed the earth as fast as when he brought you to the mansion, his deep voice ringing throughout the vast rooms, singed with panic, raspy with fear. Comte goes to remove you from his arms but he will not let go. His blue eyes are nebulous, bright with the force of every shaking breath, every shuddering heartbeat. Arthur motions for him to follow and he does, only letting you go when Vincent’s gentle voice, in the softly spoken language of their homeland, breaks through the fog: Het is oké, broer. Laat haar gaan. Laat Arthur werken.

Never has Theo been more grateful for his friend. Arthur has done his best, assessing the injury, cleaning it, sewing it closed with steady, razor-sharp precision. Now those hands clamp down on Theo’s shoulder. There is nothing more he can do. Theo reaches up, his hand covering one of Arthur’s for a moment, the gesture saying more than any words could. Arthur nods, subdued and then quietly leaves you both..

And now Theo is alone with you, you so pale and small in your bed. Even the warm light of the oil lanterns cannot bring color to your cheeks.

He falls forward in his chair, runs his hands through his hair, elbows resting on his knees. It is because of him. He should have been the one to take the bullet. He would heal just fine. Why didn’t you just let him? Why did you have to throw yourself in the way, you a mortal, whose life is the delicate dance of a spider’s web in the wind. There was no reason….no reason….his breath quakes within his broad chest. He would close his eyes, he would let the tears burning behind them fall but then……then he would miss looking at you. The tears would blur his vision of you and that, nee….that is not acceptable. 

He will sit here, keeping vigil, searching your face for any signs of life. All night if need be. And all day. He will not move. Because it isn’t just your life hanging there in balance…..it is his as well. 

Because, he thinks as he raises his gaze, presses his lips to your cold hand, without you…..Ik heb niets. I have nothing.

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

Listen.

I know I'm greedy as heck, but I just love Ikevamp guys so much. But like... All of them. At once. I even like MC. And I desperately want to love on them so much..

Anyway, do y'all have links to any MC/everyone fics? Need me sum 'o those.

I'm begging you.

Thanx!

Communication is key

!!!!!TW: Dark, dark thoughts! Violence! I reaaally have no idea what's up with me, so I can't really specify!!!!!

A/N: Here we go again... Read more will be added when I have an access to a pc. Please excuse any grammar errors.

Pairing: Comte de Saint Germain x reader

* * * * *

Things were getting bad again. You woke up one day and the world seemed just a bit darker, a bit more glum, a bit more colourless. It was like the volcano that is your happiness finally erupted and coated the world in a thick layer of ash. And all the repressed thoughts, doubts and worries spilled out, slow but steady, and ready to burn, just like hot lava.

It went on like that for a while, the thoughts getting closer and closer and one day, they just consumed you completely. You didn't want to do anything, didn't have the motivation to do anything, but there was this fear inside you, fear of upsetting your loved ones, that you still got up and did your work.

But you had to let go of something, so your mind wouldn't shut down completely.

Who would've thought skipping meals was so easy?

Oh how your hurt, twisted mind enjoyed the way your stomach, that has been empty for days now, squeezed and turned in an attempt to let you know its needs, filling your head, that was already aching from the malnutrition, with deep grumbles.

You seriously didn't think this could go on forever, did you?

It must've been one of the residents who told him. Maybe it was Sebastian, he spent most of the time with you afterall. Maybe it was Arthur when he caught you in the library, leaning your head on the shelves, because you were lightheaded or maybe Dazai, who caught you outside smashing your head against a tree he was occupying, your facial muscles clenched and teeth tightly clamped together, frustration written all over your face.

But that didn't matter now.

What did matter was him, in all his perfect beauty and grace. He sat behind his desk, fingers weaved together in front of his chin. The only thing he was lacking, was that trade mark smile of his, now replaced by what an onlooker would call a blank face, but those who knew him could recognize a scowl forming on his face.

It started simple. "How are you ma chèrie?" By now you had realized that lying would be futile, so you answered truthfully "I'm not doing so well right now. But no need to worry my love, I'll be alright soon enough." you smiled at him. Never in your lufe have you realized how straining it is sometimes to smile.

Comte sighed "You tell me not to worry and then I hear you've been neglecting and hurting yourself. I think that gives me a good reason to worry." He didn't lie, you had to admit and so you only looked off to the side and nodded your head.

"Why didn't you come to me? I could've at least tried to help you." His eyes were staring right into your soul, searching for truth. But the truth was, that you had no idea. Maybe it was due to your trauma, but consulting your problems with your lover never even came up as an option in your head. The first thing your brain commanded to your body was selfdestruct. And so you only shrugged.

"May I know what's plaguing your mind my dear?" he asked oh so softly and caringly. Your response was almost automatic "Oh it's nothing serious, I'm just a bit under the weather is all. I'll be better in no time!"

Comte sighed. But not sadly anymore. His sigh was filled to the brim with dissapointment. "And yet you still lie to me. What am I supposed to do with you?" a small, loving smile accompanied the count's second sentence.

What am I supposed to do with you?

AnyThIng yOu WAnt! Your mind screeched, its voice echoing off the walls of your soul. I aM eMPtY anYwAY! My LIfE's NoTHiNg bUT a FlEetiNG aFfaiR in YouRS, so iT dOEsn'T reAlLy mAttER, DoEs iT?

Despite the burning lava turning your brain into a piece of coal, you felt empty. So so empty. No feeling, no meaning. Unimportant.

You needed to feel. You needed to feel. You NEEDED to FEEL! Youneededtofeelyouneededtofeelyouneededto-

"Hit me."

It was but a mere whisper, but he was sure he hasn't heard anything more loudly than this. In a split second, he left his desk and stood facing you. Your eyes, sunken and empty looked at his clearly worried face.

"I'm acting like a brat. So hit me."

His arm, quick as lightning, shot out towards you. But instead of stinging pain, you felt warmth where he pressed your bodies together. You felt the smooth material of his coat against your face and his arms tightly wound around your back and waist.

And as his warmth seeped into your skin, your being was overcome with one, simple feeling.

this isn't right

no, a slight whimper escaped you. He only held you tighter.

Even as the whimpers rose to screams, screams of pure anguish, desperation and frustration, and you started to thrash in his embrace, he didn't let go.

"No! No!! You don't understand, I-I need the pain! I need to feel it! Please!! You can’t be so calm! Shout at me, hit me, anything but this silence, please!!!"

Your stammering screams shattered his heart into pieces and he couldn't help but drop his mask of perfection and cry, while trying to shush and soothe you.

Despite the tears rolling down his cheeks, his voice didn't break once and his hold didn't falter, until you went lax in his arms. Comte looked down at you, a small part of him hoping to see you content and better, but what he saw only broke his heart further.

You were resting your cheek on his chest, your empty, dead gaze set somewhere far, your lips chapped and dry. You looked exactly how you felt.

Broken.

Your lips started moving, at first only slightly, nearly nonexistent trembles. After a few seconds you whispered "Why am I like this?"

Thank you! It was good and funny and sweet, don't even worry about that ^^ Just a few days ago I asked my dad to pierce my ear, twice actually. It hurts, more than a shot at a doctor, but it's nothing too bad. Plus it's quick. The only disadvantage I can see is the long healing, because now I can't sleep on my side where the pierced ear is and it's annoying.

Hi! If you're still doing the drabbles, could I please ask for Isaac, Arthur, Vincent, Leo and Will when MC pierces their ear? Like, at home, with a needle or something. Either they catch them in the act or they ask the boiz for help with like a bloody ear with a needle sticking through, you choose XD thank you!

Lmao.  So as someone who doesn’t have piercings, this is going to be interesting.

First off, Vincent has a piercings, how that boi did it I will never know.  Honestly, him and Theo probably pierced their own ears, so if Vincent were to walk in to MC jamming a needle in her ear he’d probably be like “What!  No!  Let me help sweetie” and does it for her.  Pure Innocent Baby Vincent doesn’t seem like he would be like that, but you have to remember about his own piercings. I see Isaac asking a bunch of questions.  “WHY DO YOU WANT TO STAB YOURSELF WITH A NEEDLE” wait until he finds out about a tattoo MC has, lmao.  Isaac already has a towel to clean up the blood because he expects it to go horribly.  Meanwhile MC probably does it with precision and has no issues, and Isaac is still screaming.

Leonardo?  Hmm.  I feel like he’d also help.  But this is how it would go.  MC goes up to Leonardo with this needle and is like “Hey.  I need you to stab this through my ear” and Leonardo is like “K” and puts his book down.  Then during the process he’s like “Wait.  Why am I doing this?” and MC goes “So I can put jewelry in it” and he’s like “ahh okay”  I really can’t see him reacting any other way

Now Arthur.  He’s probably going on about how you shouldn’t do it yourself, saying it isn’t sanitary, and you should go somewhere to get it done.  There’s people that do it and know what they are doing.  He is pacing back and forth while MC is sitting in front of a mirror, and as Arthur is int he middle of rambling she goes “K.  Its done” and Arthur is like “WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS DONE?? YOU DID IT ALREADY??”

*deep breath* Will.  Well irl Will had a piercing.  Made him look hella gay btw.  Like.  I want to know why he decided to do that.  We already know you’re bi, why you gotta go pierce your ear???  Anyway.  I can’t really see Will offering to help because he has no clue what to do and doesn’t want to hurt you, plus MC seems to know what she’s doing.  And he also doesn’t seem like someone would freak out over it.  He’d be like. “You got your ears pierced?  Here’s some new earrings.” He’d be super chill and be like “yay I can spoil her more”

I hope that’s good????  Idk what its like to need a needle shoved in your ear, or any part of your body.

This is sort of an emergency request, I still haven’t gotten over the trauma of being sexually assaulted at 15, raped at 16 and sexually abused at 17. So MC is dealing with her trauma and hates being touched unless she initiates it otherwise she flinches or runs away (I personally suffer night terrors) for either Leo, Arthur, Comte, Vincent or Theo. I understand if you’re uncomfortable with this request, just thought I’d ask anyway. Plz and thank you.

A/N: I hope this is any good and that I approached this somewhat well, if you ever need anything else, feel free to ask!

TW: dealing with trauma, night terrors

Leo:

Ok, in the begining, there might be some misunderstandings, because Leo is a touchy guy.

But as soon as you give him a sign or tell him you're not comfortable with being touched, he'll stop.

He will ask why, but won't force you to talk.

If you decide to tell him at some point, his reaction will be calm at first glance.

Trust me, he's angry on the inside that such horrible things happen mostly to innocent people, but won't show it, because it won't help anything.

He'll just thank you for sharing this with him.

And asks how that will affect your relationship.

He'll remember everything you tell him, what you are and are not comfortable with etc.

You can count on him to be with you through thick and thin, if you want him to of course.

He's more than capable of giving you space or comfort, whatever you seek at the moment.

Especially with your night terrors. Whatever you need, he'll try and help you get it.

He's just very respectful and supportive and let's you control how the relationship evolves.

Arthur:

Again, you might have a rocky start, since Artie is a heavy flirt.

However, once he sees how uncomfortable he makes you feel, he'll stop his advances.

I think given his deduction skills, he'd suspect that there's something more serious behind this behaviour of yours.

And that's exactly why he won't ask about it.

He has his own traumas and understands how annoying and invasive it is to pry.

So he bonds with you while respecting your boundaries.

Since he doesn't ask, he doesn't know anything, so he might help himself with his deductions when it comes to you and what you would and wouldn't be comfortable with.

Listens intently to anything and everything you decide to share with him, because he knows how important it is to have someone who just listens and is there, without comparing, or judging.

After that, he would probably act similar to Leo.

Comte:

Comte is a gentleman, so there's a big chance you'll feel the most comfortable around him and right from the beginning too.

He's not really one to invade personal space.

He has a great understanding of boundaries.

Definitely is a great buddy for night terrors too, he can soothe anyone and anything, because he's charming like that.

He would be one of the more protective out of the bunch.

It would be really subtle though.

He can't help but feel at ease when somebody's escorting you when you go out, even if it's just Sebas.

But no matter how much he wants nothing bad to happen to you ever again, he reminds himself that this is about you and not him.

So if you want someone to accompany you to do the shopping, he'll arrange it, but if you don't, he won't complain.

On the other hand, he loves how strong you are and how far you've come and that you're still working on dealing with everything every day.

And he'll show that that through many gifts ^^

Vincent:

Another one that you can feel comfortable around right from the beginning.

He, too, wouldn't ask any questions.

He doesn't understand like Arthur does, he just...doesn't feel the need to know. He understands that you have your reasons and you don't have to explain yourself.

I feel like he'd be a great person to come to when you're feeling down or after a night terrors.

No matter the time or if you've woken him up, he'll stay awake with you, trying his best to comfort you, even though it doesn't come to him as naturally as with Comte.

He also listens without interrupting.

However, expect him to cry.

He is known for being positive and happy and calm all the time, but he can't. Not now.

If Leo was angry because of what happened to you, Vincent would be devastated, crushed, but both for the same reason, you didn't deserve it.

He'll be careful with you. Like, super careful.

He knows you don't like being touched, but even if you initiate it, his touches will be feather light.

He just doesn't want to accidentally make you uncomfortable.

Theo:

I think in the beggining, his attitude might drive you away, but still don't see him as someone who would invade your personal space.

You could be straightforward with him and tell him you don't like being touched and he'd keep it in mind.

But I also could see him be the most curious one of the bunch.

He will ask why and if you don't tell him, he'll act offended for a little while, before he realizes that a) it's none of his business and b) it might not be an easy thing to talk about.

After that, you won't have any troubles with him.

His reaction to your story would be a mix of Leo's and Vincent's.

He'd feel devastated, but would appear calm and serious.

If you come to him with your night terrors, he'll try to stay awake, but given how much he works, he would fall asleep before you do.

In that case, just wake him up again. After a few rounds he'll be awake enough ;)

He'd wreck his brain to find ways to comfort you, since he isn't good with words and you don't like being touched.

He'd show he cares through being protective, however more visibly than Comte.

If you're going to a place where there's bound to be a lot of people, like the market or an event, he'll accompany you.

And if he doesn't have time, he'll ask Vincent, hell maybe even Arthur!

Also doesn't trust strangers around you.

If this would make you feel coddled, you'd have to talk to him about it, set boundaries.

He's hot headed, he means well, but sometimes scts before he thinks.

Thank you so much darling! I was in a bad place when this ask was made and you did wonderfully in replying, thank you so much <3 I am doing much better, I just came back from a mental hospital and this was a nice surprise.

Yay, askbox is open! I hope that means requests too, if not please ignore this and sorry. But could I request another angst? Could I please ask for headcannons for Dazai (and the others could be either Theo, Vincent, Leo, Comte, Will or Arthot, you can choose two, 'cause I can't XD) who find their S/Os suicide note? You can take it wherever you want from there. Thank you so much, love your works <3 Have a grwat day!

Hi @robin-the-enby !! I'm happy to see you in my inbox again, and although this took me embarrassingly long (my procrastination tendencies and school got the better of me :,)), I'm more than happy to provide something that will help with your coping! Despite it all, I hope that you'll get better soon and hang on a while longer. I'm sure this prolonged pandemic has had negative effects on most people's mental health, but remember that we'll get through this in one way or the other! Stay strong and keep fighting, if it gets too much don't hesitate to take a break and go easy on yourself❤

Halfway through I realized I was writing scenarios instead of simple headcanons ,, I was too engrossed in writing to realize it oops 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️

Finding MC'S suicide note - Ikevamp headcanons (Dazai, Arthur & Leonardo)

(TW; suicide / mentions of self-harm / major character death / blood)

(CW; slight and inaccurate spoilers for Dazai's past)

For those who'd like to avoid specific contents, this is what I wrote for each suitor:

Dazai - MC is unconscious and bleeding, I didn't specify whether they survive or not

Arthur - MC is stopped before they can do anything, survives

Leonardo - MC isn't stopped in time, dies

Dazai

It was as if history was repeating itself. The message, the bloodied sheets and the unconscious body. The only different thing was perhaps.... him. It was a him that had experienced true happiness, a him that had learned forgiveness, a him that knew better than retort to suicide as a way of repentance. And yet... was it not enough? Dazai's mind swirled with the pungent thoughts of his own fate as he ran with your body in his arms. He ran, and ran, and ran, passing by a seemingly endless succession of hallways and wooden doors.

Never before did he wish your room was closer to Arthur's, as he felt your body grow colder and his clothes dampen with blood with each step forward. And yet the stars that were now adorning the night sky's black cape, seemed to be offering their compassion to him, for when Dazai burst into the writer's room he saw him sitting at his desk, completely sober and still functioning in the middle of the night.

Arthur slightly turned in his chair, and as he was about to comment with displeasure how rude it was of the man to come into his room completely unannounced, his mouth was left agape and eyes wide open, wordlessly staring at your limp and seemingly unmoving body as the smell of blood hit his nostrils in mere seconds.

"What in the Heavens happened-?!" Arthur abruptly stood up, leaving his half-finished manuscript forgotten on the table, rushing closer to check your pulse. The two novelists had never liked each other, a difference in life choices maybe, but it surely was not a hate that could surpass even the most perilous of situations, particularly because you were an outsider to their rivalry. As such, Arthur did not hesitate to put to good use all his medical knowledge, carefully rushing through every step to avoid the worst.

Seconds slowly transformed into hours, although Dazai was convinced time had stopped ever since the moment he had found you on your bed, utterly frozen in a state of unconsciousness with a crumpled letter of apologies laying on the bloodied sheets. The only thing that perhaps gave him the slightest hint to time’s passing was the way he could feel the blood on his chest and hands grow drier as the night morphed into the day.

As the first rays of light poked from behind the thick curtain of the doctor’s room, Dazai sat by his bed, right next to you, silent and outwardly calm, although dazed in the raging storm inside his heart.

Perhaps this was what Destiny itself had decided for him. Perhaps it was wrong of him to blame casualty instead of himself. His old, stupid self, who hadn’t learnt a single thing from past mistakes. But as his fellow vampire’s warm hand came to rest on his shoulder, Dazai decided to delay all judgment about his negligence until the Gods determined your fate.

Arthur

Staring at the familiar handwriting, Arthur felt his whole body grow numb, as if someone had thrown him in the darkest depths of the ocean, leaving him to suffocate under the overwhelming weight of the waters above.

He had noticed the worsening of your symptoms, but he had never imagined you'd go to these lengths. He had gravely underestimated your condition, and he could already hear the old ghosts of his past laughing at him, pointing their fingers while mocking him. But now, he had no time to worry about his own lack of foresight; his priority was getting to you in time, so that all could be fixed, hopefully.

Scanning the writing on your tear-stained note, his brain started listing all the possible places where you could've gone with a speed that would leave speechless even Sherlock Holmes himself. The writing was hurried and scrambled, meaning that it was a sudden decision. The city was too far away and bustling with people that could interfere, so it was an unlikely location. As he was running around the mansion in search of you, he passed in front of the terrace on the last floor; there, he saw your clothes swirling in the wind, and your figure standing on the stone railing.

He almost crashed against the glass door as he launched himself forward with extreme speed. You were there, looking down and slightly trembling. You were scared, as it was normal, but if death frightened you so, then what pain would be so strong to push you in its embrace? To drive you away from his warm arms and into the eternal darkness? Was such a painful experience worth the possible relief?

"MC!!!" Arthur shouted out of instinct with his whole lungs, like a volcano erupting in all its fury. A few steps later and you were falling backwards, your back colliding with his chest as he harshly pulled you to him. It all happened so fast that you didn't even have the time to turn your head and look at him. Now that you were on the ground, safely locked in his embrace, everything slowly sank in.

His voice came out choked and trembling. "W-what were you thinking-?!" He was trying so hard to hold everything back; the tears, the sobs, the anger in his voice. He was angry at himself, and you were not the target of his resentment, but he realized that it could be easily misunderstood by someone in your situation. Taking a deep breath and turning you around, he stared deeply into your pained eyes, softening his iron-like grip on your forearms.

His voice now steadier yet gentle with affection and worry added:"Love, I'm sorry for not noticing all of this sooner. I'm sorry for not helping you enough. Still, I want to be of some use to you, I want to be there for you.” A sharp breath interrupted his speech, maybe from him, you or perhaps both of you. “…So please, please rely on me; whenever you feel like you can't do it anymore, whenever you feel like you have enough of life, give me the chance to help you."

Seconds later, you burst into tears, sobbing confused "I'm sorry"s in the crook of his neck. Arthur slowly caressed your hair soothingly, as his heart continued to painfully hammer against his chest. He knew this was not going to be an easy nor a short journey; it was going to take time, and it would be hard, but he wouldn't give up on you no matter what. Through thick and thin, the way you did for him, he was going to support you the whole way.

"I love you more than anything in the world, MC." he added at last, hugging you tightly.

Leonardo

The deafening sound of crickets did not reach the man’s ears. He couldn’t hear anything but the fast pumping of his own blood in his veins. A heartbeat that had never and would never stop; stronger than anyone else’s, but also alone. The sound of his heart was utterly lonely, the only one under the white gazebo, now shrouded in the darkness of the night.

How much he would give not to hear it anymore, to put an end to it right then and there. But he couldn’t. And as Fate loved torturing him endlessly, he was now once more deprived of a person he loved. But this time was different than the countless others before. He thought he had gotten used to the company offered by Death herself, and it had been long ever since tears burned within his eyes, as if made of fire.

Between his arms laid a lifeless body, utterly still and deprived of any warmth. It seemed like mere moments had passed when Leonardo was contentedly caressing your hair as a tired yet relaxed sigh fell from a pair crimson lips, which whispered some loving words before blooming into a smile. Now, they were pale and slightly agape, a cold frown sculpted onto the body’s face. Perhaps he had gotten so used to the passage of time that he did not pay it more mind. Perhaps all his memories took place too long ago, and perhaps things had changed considerably from those happy moments you shared.

Leonardo’s expression subconsciously mimicked your own, one that would remain in his mind for who knows how long, and he did not dare to move away, sitting there with you for the very last moments of his eternally long life. He tried not to think about the way his heart lurched in his chest like a ship at sea during a storm when he found your note. Your handwriting, calm and precise as if it was a decision you had made long ago; where was his mind wandering off to while you were deciding to seal your own fate?

Silently strangling all those whirling thoughts in his head until they died down, leaving him in a deathly silence, he lovingly bid you farewell with a final kiss to your lips.

“Hopefully, we’ll meet in another life.”

“Next time, I won’t let this happen again”

Suffering was human, but he had learnt all too well how contagious pain could be. And yet, he now found himself isolated in his grievance, for you weren’t with him anymore.

SO IM DOING A LITTLE FUNDRAISER TO HELP WITH KIKIS SURGERY BILLS

If you don't know...THIS IS KIKI!!

THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!! SHE LOVES BELLY RUBS AND KISSES.

On Sunday she needed some hefty surgery due to bacteria and infections and lost a kidney. She's only 3, possibly has FIV(basically cat HIV).

Surgery and hospital stay came to be $10,000, and I had to pay 95% upfront might as well take all of it at that point

I also lost my job last Thursday, because I expressed my concerns to the district manager and the store manager didn't like that and fired me.

SO BECAUSE SO MANY OF YOU LOVE KIKI AND MY WRITING/BANTERS IM DOING A LITTLE THING!!!

For ikevamp guys only

For $5 I will write bullet point hcs with any guy with any scenario. Can be smut, fluff, angst, I DO IT ALL ＼(°o°)／

For $10 I will do a few paragraph drabble and maybe random banter with any guy with any scenario. Can be smut, fluff, angst OR WHATEVER.

Don't have $5/$10? Even $1 helps. Can't do that? Then please just share. I don't want anyone to feel obligated. Want to donate more but only have one request? ILL TAKE IT.

All of it is going to Kiki. And I'll be keeping all of you updated on Kiki too. I'm sure she will be needing special food, and follow up appointments.

Now what do you gotta do? I have PayPal here and ko-fi here

Leave a message with your URL so I can tag you (or if you want to stay anon and just stalk my blog that's cool) what guy, and what scenario.

Scenario doesn't have to be detail, if you just want smut, say that, or if you want a certain kink. If you want fluff you can just say fluff, or if you want a little coffee shop au.

You guys know how this works I'm sure.

OR GIVE ME $50+ AND I WONT ABUSE ARTHUR FOR A WHOLE DAY

Hi! Can I get an angst/comfort fic of Arthur with a female s/o who is depressed and suicidal? Like he walks in on his s/o c*tting while having a mental breakdown? Or he just notices the cuts/scars? Or he walks in on his s/o bl33ding out?? Idk you can get creative with it I’ve just been having an extremely rough couple months. If this makes you uncomfortable then you can just ignore this request, but thanks anyways! I hope you have a great day/night!! <3

It's my problem if I feel the need to hide

Pairing: Arthur x f!reader

Summary: You feel under the weather, but decide not to tell anyone. As your condition only worsens, your friends start to worry about you. It's when you decide to let everything go your knight with blue eyes and a cheeky smile comes to the rescue.

Warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, not being able to care for oneself (containing lack of hygiene and proper meals), mentions of vomit(ing) (3), negative self talk, dark thoughts

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay of this fic, I hope it will be of use to you still. I haven't written for this fandom in a long while, so getting back to it was a little hard, though I enjoyed it none the less. I tried not to use any (Y/N)s and make it as racially neutral as possible, as well as appearance-neutral (Arthur carries reader 1 time, but he's stronger than a regular human, and y'all deserve it ladies, no matter your size). If anyone wants to talk about anything at all, my dms are open, as well as my ask box. Take care of yourselves and stay safe!

The human mind is possibly nature's greatest invention. The complexity with which all its components interact to keep the body functioning is nothing short of phenomenal. And not only that, but it is aware of itself, encasing its own conscience inside a safe vessel, built and evolved specifically to protect it. And as time progressed, and all the basic needs of the body were cared for, there came a need to create. The body could easily be fed, but the conscience needed a different type of sustenance.

The human mind is capable of incredible things. It can set goals for itself as well as achieve them. It shaped the entire world to its liking, for better or for worse. The human mind is the reason why we live the lives we do today. It is the thing that keeps us alive and sane.

It's funny how drastically that can change.

If you'd ask any of the men residing in the mansion on who the worst enemy of humans is, you're sure all of them would at least mention the human conscience, if not directly choose it. After all, their lives have been woven through with the thread of sorrow, the perpetrator being none other than the human mind- theirs or someone else's.

At this point, you feel like you've at least got a peek at the complex inner worlds of history's greatest minds. Some you knew better than others, but you've been le Comte's servant for long enough to consider all the mansion's residents at least friends.

It was evident to anyone who has been in the mansion for at least a month that all of the people (and vampires) residing in it had some sort of baggage, wearing them down even in their second undead life. Some were better at hiding it than others, some just felt more comfortable keeping their troubles to themselves, while others' emotions and traumas were sometimes too great, too overwhelming to be kept locked inside their bodies.

You've tried your best to help those who needed it, both physically and mentally. It helped a few to open up to you at least a little and as time went on, with your hard work, you've earned respect for yourself even amongst the toughest nuts in the mansion. Poking through others' personal affairs and traumas carried along numerous fights as well as apologies and in the end just served to strengthen the bond between you and the residents. And yet, at times like these...you couldn' help but feel alone.

Like all the others, you had to shoulder the burden of traumas, insecurities and unpleasant experiences collected unwillingly throughout your life. You suspected the others knew of this, or at least had a hunch that you, like all of them, haven't had the pleasure of living a carefree life.

They saw you as an independent, strong and courageous woman, resilient and kind in any situation. And if you were in the right state of mind, you would agree. But lately, you began to doubt these traits of yours, the ones you valued so much and were valued for.

You weren't a stranger to struggling and you knew that anyone in need of help deserved to receive it and should not be scared to ask for it.

So why did the thought of asking for help make your stomach churn?

You've been pondering that question for a few days now. Lately, your entire reality seemed to have shifted. At first, you didn't think anything was wrong, a simple bad day, or a bad week wasn't anything to be too worried about. Nothing a nice, relaxing weekend couldn't fix, right? And yet, when you had tasks to complete, you felt agitated and annoyed, but when you had nothing to do, you were antsy and restless. Always feeling like something should be happening, like you should be doing something. For some reason, you couldn't make yourself to do the things you felt you should be doing.

Soon everything has become a bother. Tasks you could usually do with one hand were suddenly so hard that by the end of the day, the thought of bathing or changing into clean clothes made you want to scream until your throat was sore. And so you chipped away at your routine that you so painstainkingly built when you appeared in this time, until the only remaining activities in your days were your work and some basic necessities.

You knew it was getting bad. And it constantly created an almost numbing whirlwind of emotions you really didn't need right now. Why was this happening? What brought it on? Why now?? Is it going to get worse? All these questions and none you had an answer to. You had guesses and various techniques you learnt here and there back in your time, but...you couldn't bring yourself to do anything.

You were trapped. At least it felt like it. Trapped inside yourself, inside your mind. You knew you should tell someone, that if you let it go on, it would sooner or later consume you. But you couldn't do anything. It was as if your body didn't listen to you.

It seemed the residents were starting to get suspicious of your strange mood as of late. There were times when one of them would approach you and carefully ask about your wellbeing, and as much as you wanted to say something, you never did. You logically knew that the first step would be the one to break through the loop, the one that would make all the others just a little bit easier until you felt normal again. But anytime you tried to break through the selfdestructive habits you had fallen into, a wave of such tirednes, nausea and shame overcame you, that you simply caved to your mind's twisted whispers.

You concluded that your best option at this moment was to lay low and let it pass. Your days have become a steady routine of wake up, work, go to bed. And repeat. It was manageable, at first, even with the onslaught of thoughts your mind was conjuring, managing to come up with more and more ways to taunt you with. But as days and then weeks passed, your energy slowly seeped away from your body and it retaliated by shutting off and out anything unnecessary to save as much of what was remaining.

These things included mostly socialising. You became less talkative, while you would usually enthusiastically engage in conversations, if not outright start them, lately you would not speak unles directly spoken to. It has taken a toll on your concentration as well. Many times when someone would try to strike up a conversation with you, they'd have to repeat their question or even call out your name mid-conversation, because mentally you just weren't there. These things not only started to worry Sebastian, your biggest constant in your new life, given that you worked alongside him every day, but also the other residents. You knew of this, as out of it as you might have seemed and/or have been these past few weeks, you knew that they noticed, because you knew them. But what started as a simple snowball had alrady turned into an avalanche and you had to admit that you were no longer in control.

Not that you really cared. You knew you should care, should be trying harder than ever to break out of this spell, but you couldn't. And every time you might have felt strong enough to confess how you were feeling, to lean on someone, to get the help you knew you needed, a sudden pang of fear pierced your chest and you shrivelled back, back into your own small shell that was your skull.

Trying to find a reason for this foolish anxiety proved not so easy, when your mind would make up about five reasons why you should keep your mouth shut every time you even dared to ask yourself such a question.

What if they didn't believe you?

What if it wasn't not that bad?

What if you were just making it up? Making it seem bigger than it is?

These people have gone through so much. They've seen war, witnessed and felt abuse and probably had been through things you couldn't even imagine. Why should they help you, when they're the ones who needed help?

You were not worthy.

Such comparisons were something you chastised anyone who would confess experiencing them for. And yet, when it came to you, it felt like a holy truth. Something that could not and should not be questioned. Because you don't want to be selfish, do you?

You've dealt with this by yourself before, surely you could do it again and not drag down others with you. These and many others became your daily mantras. Lay low, hide, be small, don't make a noise. Survive. But was that really how you wanted to live? If you could even call that a living. You were surviving, yes, but at what cost? For a promise of a period of time where you wouldn't feel like the world is made out of cardboard? A period of time where you wouldn't feel like screaming and crying every second of every day? And how long would that last? A few months, a year maybe? Was it really worth the struggle?

You blinked yourself out of your thoughts when someone vigorously snapped in front of your eyes. Looking around in slight daze, your eyes fall upon a smiling face. "There you are! Theo says he's just waiting for you to walk face first into a wall!" Arthur says cheerily, showing you his signature smirk. "I, like the good friend I am, keep defending you of course. But it's hard when your mind seems to get further and further away from us every day. At this rate, you'll wander off into Seine soon. And we wouldn't want that, would we?" he playfully jabbed at you.

You could feel yourself shaking your head, but the only thing you could focus on was how nice it acually seemed, the cold water seeping through clothes and circling your limbs, the undercurrents keeping you down, where nothing could get you, laying you down onto the riverbed, weighed by the water in your lungs... "So, what's going on in that noggin of yours, hm?"

Arthur was, besides Sebastian, the closest person to you out of all the others. You enjoyed his easygoing demeanor and his jokes never failed to make you laugh. He was a terrible flirt though, and someties could be pretty pushy with his advances as you've realised over the time you two spent together. Luckilly, after a firm conversation backed up by Theo, he had calmed down significantly towards you. The writer still heavily complimented you, always putting that silver tongue of his to use, but you thought nothing of it. He was like that with everyone, even some of the other residents, so the possibility of it ever meaning anything more than banter or a simple compliment never even crossed your mind.

"You're doing it again." the man in question sighed. You blinked at him with confusion. As if reading your thoughts, Arthur clarified "You're in your head again. It must be something really interesting in there to make you so distracted." he joked again, but his expression turned serious "But honestly, what's going on? You haven't been yourself for quite a while now and everyone's getting worried. Even Wolf asked me if I knew what was up with you the other day!" the writer looked at you intently "You know that we're here for you, right? Even if you feel like it's stupid, if you need anything, you can tell us."

You averted your eyes from Arthur' piercing gaze. You knew his words were sincere and it made your chest squeeze uncomfortably. Looking straight ahead, in the direction which you were going, you answered, trying to make your voice as leveled as you could "Thank you for worrying Arthur, but I'm alright, really. I've been thinking of asking le Comte for a break. It would be nice to have some off time." This wasn't a complete lie, since having some down time, where you could pretend time has stopped really did sound appealing, but now you'd have to actually go and ask the good count, which you really didn't want to. Not because you were worried you wouldn't be given a break, but because it was another plan to be made and you barely had enough energy to last you until the end of the day, much less go somewhere out of your own volition.

Arthur knew that you were lying, or at least not telling him everything, so he grinned at you again and spoke confidently "Alright, love, the game is on! I gave you a chance to explain youself, but it seems I'll have to solve this mystery myself." he winked at you and you expected him to take his leave. But Arthur softly grabbed your arm and stopped you in the middle of the halway you were in. Turning to face him in his hold you looked at him questioningly. His smile is much softer now, and if you could focus properly, you would see worry glinting in his eyes "If you ever change your mind, you can stop by. Day, night, doen't matter. We're here for you, love. I'm here for you. Just as much as you're here for us." and as soon as he finished speakig, he was gone. Down the hallway, in the direction of his room. You quietly turned around, trying to process the strange encounter while you went your way.

Your mind was surprisingly quiet for a few hours after that.

You eventually did end up in le Comte's study. Nerves were wracking your body and mind the entire day and when you finally did enter the dreaded room, after all your chores were done for the day, you felt like you would start crying at any moment. For some reason, you felt awful for doing this. You didn't need the break. You didn't need off time to get better physically or because you had too many chores. Why did you want a break, besides Arthur catching on that there was, indeed, something wrong? The only thing you had planned for this break of yours was rotting away in your bed and doing as little as humanely possible. Maybe fate would be so kind and take you away in your sleep. Let you wither away like an overwatered flower.

You tried to make the discussion as quick as possible. Fortunately, the count didn't ask too many questions about your wellbeing and the reason for taking a break, remembering well that you haven't had one in a good while. He did ask if you consulted Sebas about it and you forced down a shudder at the mention of your good friend's name. Not because the butler was opposed to you taking a break, he actually kindly insisted you take one, revealing that he also noticed your mental absence in the past weeks, which could be almost counted as a month now. The worry and confusion in his tone as well as his expression made you wish he told you to stay, to help him, anything to try and convince you to not do what you were about to.

Why were you so worried? There wasn't a reason you should feel bad about taking a break. Even if you physically were just as spry as a grasshopper, taking a break for the sake of mental health was just as important. But deep down, you coudn't lie to yourself. Deep down you knew you were going to give up completely. Either for someone to find you, or to be left to rot. And right now, you hoped for the latter, even if it was still scary to admit.

After Comte gave you a week off, asking if it was enough time for you, which you hastily confirmed, feeling bile rise up your throat and wishing for the comfines of your room, your shaky legs and hazy mind managed to carry you to your room. After spending some time emptying the contents of your stomach, which were absolutely too small you would bet, you nothing but collapsed onto your bed. Mouth unrinsed, hair oily and ruffled, it had finally dawned on you how much of a mess you must have loked like. This realisation finally seemed to open the dam that was holding back everything you were feeling. The disgust, the shame, the fear, the anxiety the heavines, the loneliness, but most importnatly the longing.

Fast, salty tears carried all of that out of your body, leaving your face a puffy, sticky mess. Suddenly, you felt rage boil inside of your chest, sprading quickly to your head. Why didn't you say anything? You were so worried and because of what? Your own mind? Could you be any more stupid? The very same mind that put you through absolute hell this past month was now angry at itself, at its own actions. Why did the world have to be this cruel? Why couldn't it grant you the simple request of a mind that would not try to sabotage itself? And now it was too late.

Yo chose this, you thought to yourself. You chose this and these were the consequences of your actions. As if the tears have released all your pent up frustration in your body, all that it left was numbness. A kind of numbness that made your eyelids heavy, making them gravitate towards each other and pulling you into a deep, calm slumber. The kind of slumber you have not been able to achieve for more than the month you've been actively suffering. But also the kind of slumber that would not bring you closer to salvation.

You woke up, not knowing the time and not really finding yourself caring either. You felt strangely...calm. There was no hunger, no thirst, nothing. Only suffocating quiet, the likes of which you would feel in the deep blue of the ocean. You laid stil for what felt like hours, but could have also been minutes, before you succumbed to unconsciousness again.

This has gone on for a few days of your week long break. At one point you felt the pang of hunger, yet you had no will to satiate it. You only rose from your bed late into the night, when the squeezing walls of your stomach, at this point surely eating itself, threatened to spill nothing but its own acid. You tiptoed as quietly as your stiff muscles could into the kitchen, and after munching on some bread and water, because even though you got up, you still didn't feel like cooking, or that you deserved anything more than the simplest of dishes, you quietly stalked the halls back into your room. You fell asleep again, your stomach satisfied, or maybe convinced into satisfaction by your mind, the last thing you heard was the faint sound of Mozart's piano in the dead of the night.

This cycle had repeated for another few days. Your days were interrupted by quiet knocking that would wake you from your slow decline, and sometimes joined by murmurs behind the door. You couldn't find it in you to care. The door wasn't locked. At one point, you could swear you saw a shadow in your window, but it was gone too soon for your slowed mind to focus on it.

One morning, somewhere at the end of your break, not that you were keeping track of time, your door opened. A gust of fresh air was the first thing that barged its way into your room, chasing out the old and musty, albeit warm air from it. You shivered and wiggled deeper under your covers, grumbling hoarsely in protest. Your half asleep mind registered someone slowly walking into your room, as if they were scared to find out what was in it. You kept your eyes closed.

Arthur knelt down beside your bed, looking at your sickly, worn out face. Carefully sneaking his arm under your blanket, his hand searched for yours until it could take it into its own. Caressing your knuckles with his thumb, he cooed softly "Oh, love. I am so sorry. I am so sorry we let this get so far." You didn't respond. What was there to say? "It isn't your fault" you croaked out quietly, not having enough energy to say it loudly and fearing your voice wouldn't work.

"Why did you hide from us? We would've helped..." the writer almost whined, and you could feel the guilt and worry radiating from him. You wanted so desperately to answer, to give him a good reason for how foolish you were acting, but you couldn't. There was nothing that would excuse you. Nothing.

Seeing your slightly open eyes well up with tears, Arthur rushed closer to comfort you. Shushing and soothing you like a small child after a booster shot, he held you close and you tried not to weep hader. "It's alright, love, everything is alright. I've got you. I've got you now, it's good. You're alright."

After you calmed down slightly, you wanted nothing more than to shoo him away, close yourself off again an bury yourself into your bed to get away from the immense shame you felt. But Arthur seemed to be having none of that. He softly but insistently reached under you and helped you sit up with one arm, holding your hand with the other still. you couldn't bring yourslf to look him in the eye and yet his tone never changed from the soft lull he comforted you with. "Come on now, darling. Let's get you cleaned up."

Your mind wanted desperately to push back at him, scream and yell and fight, but you almost limply let him straighten you up and help you walk over to the bathroom. The writer's heart nearly broke in two as he saw you in the same clothes you were in when he last spoke to you. The image of you suffering in silence for so long made him nearly tear up as well, but he held himself back, focusing on you being his biggest priority.

He ran a bath for you, helped you out of your clothes, his gaze never cascading from your face, looking for any signs of overstepping any boundaries and when he found none, he helped you into the bathtub, first washing your hair and then your body, asking if you could and wanted to handle your private parts yourself. You whispered out a small yes, feeling somewhat ashamed still and wanting to make his efforts a bit easier. Letting you soak in the blissfully warm water, a question appeared in your mind "Arthur..." you called out quietly "Were you the one knocking at my door?" you asked timidly, not knowing fully if it wasn't some kind of delirium your mind put you through. The writer's face became solemn as you took a peek at his face and he spoke, his words and tone equally heavy "Everyone did. We were worried about you. After we heard about your break, we thought it might do you well. Everyone noticed that you weren't quite yourself. But after the first few days, when no one ever saw you leave the mansion, let alone your room, our worries doubled. Wolf said he noticed you walking to the kitchen at night, but Sebas only noticed small portions of bread disappearing from the kitchen, so we wanted to check up on you. We tried knocking at your door, not wanting to disturb you if you really were physically ill, but that didn't do anything." "And the window?" you interrupted him, casting your eyes downward again at the rude gesture. But Arthur continued, with no offense taken "That was Dazai. He was checking up on you a lot. In his own way." Arthur smiled sadly "Today, I had enough. Something was telling me you needed help. And I'm glad I listened to my instinct." he smiled at you and you felt your dry lips lift up ever so slightly. You were found when you needed it the most, it seemed.

After Arthur dried you off and helped you put on fresh clothes, he told you Sebas made a nutritious meal for you that wouldn't upset your stomach. He also suggested it would do you good to get out of your room for at least a little while and eat it in the kitchen. Seeing the panic in your eyes, he rushed to assure you "You don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to." And so you nodded.

The mansion seemed awfully quiet. There was no one in the halls, no sounds from either corner of the building. On your slow trek to the kitchen, you passed Mozart. The musician didn't say anything, but his lips melted from their usual stern frown to a warm smile and you couldn't help but to start crying again. Athur sat down with you on the cold ground of the hallway, pulling you onto his lap and rocking you back and forth until you felt good enough to walk again. Mozart was nowhere in sight.

You found out that Sebas made you a delicious soup, one with enough vegetables and some meat, the broth strong enough to get you up on your feet in no time. You ate slowly and savoured every spoonful. You suddenly realised how much you've missed eating good food. After your meal was done and Arthur washed your bowl and spoon in silence, he slowly sat down next to you. "How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, knowing that you were nowhere near out of the deep end yet, but desperately hoping his efforts weren't for naught. "Better. Fuller." you answered simply. After another beat of comfortable silence, where you soaked up the sun pouring in through the windows, the writer asked again "Would you like to go back to your room?" You pursed your lips. Suddenly, the idea of your bed and the stuffy room you hid yourself away in sounded horrible. But he comfortable, fluffy clothes and full stomach were pullig at your eyelids again, sleep threatening to take over. "My room it is, then?"

Arthur piped up and you nodded. Before you knew it, you were scooped up bridal style by the vampire, feeling his soft lips on your hairline "Rest, love. I've got you." Soon, you were in a room that smelled of coffe and cologne with a hint of ink. Once again, you wriggled under the covers, these ones feeling much fresher than yours, as you succumbed to sleep once again. But this time, you weren't alone.

🔎

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

@rrasado , tripple Arty right there! (Man, my bias usually doesn't show this bad 🙈)

Guys i need to obsess over an otome cuz im hard-stuck on being bored all the time pls suggest me otome or write all the otome games you have played pls ( ⚈̥̥̥⌢⚈̥̥̥)

Hhhhh, why is he so cute?!

Happy Birthday, you flirt.

Despite all of your flaws and mistakes, I still love you. <333