#empty-littlelady | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lordsister · 4 years

Text

No Hands (Ray Blackwell x Reader)

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution

Pairing: Ray Blackwell x Reader

Prompt: “It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong.”

Warning: None! Some lightly implied nsfw, but mostly fluff.

Intended Audience: Female audience, but can be read as gender neutral.

Word Count: 2,739

Requested by: @littlelady-blackwell (Hope you enjoy it!! Sorry it took me so long to finish!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Revolution or any of its characters. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not reblog or repost my works on any other website.

A/N: This was from my 500 watchers request celebration. Can’t believe it’s taken me this long to finish it.

You awoke to the sound of birdsong and the feel of calloused fingers stroking your cheek. Keeping your eyes closed, you allowed yourself to linger on the verge of sleep, hanging there as your lover’s fingers sparked warmth beneath your skin. Every brush up and down over your cheek was a message of endearment - “You’re beautiful,” “I treasure you,” “I love you.” It was Ray’s particular, wordless way of expressing his affection.

Heartbeats passed like that, lazy seconds drifting by until his husky voice whispered in your ear, “We should get up.”

“Mmm, just a little while longer,” you murmured back, turning and snuggling into his chest. “It feels so nice.”

His deep chuckle made your lazy grin grow a little wider. “We’re already late as it is, but you want to stay in bed?”

“We’re late?!” Your eyes flew open and you jolted upright, turning your horrified expression on Ray as you struggled to extract yourself from his arms. “Ray! Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?!”

A cocky, happy smile spread across his handsome face as he fell back on the bed, laughing. “How could I when you looked so cute, saying my name in your sleep.” The smirk he gave you was more than enough to make you blush.

“I-I was not!” you stuttered, turning away to rummage for fresh clothes in the dresser.

A second later arms wrapped around your waist and warm breath tickled your ear as Ray rested his chin on your shoulder. “Did too,” he chuckled, bringing more heat to your cheeks. “And I loved every bit of it.”

You were tempted to turn around and kiss the living daylights out of your smirking lover, but he had already moved away before you could, chuckling as he disappeared into the bathroom. Pressing your hands to your face, you took a deep breath and tried to dispel the flustered feeling. He was going to be the death of you at this rate.

With a final shake of your head, you grabbed some clean clothes and dressed quickly, running a brush through your hair a few times before dashing out the door and down the hall. If Ray wanted to make the both of you late, then you weren’t going to wait up for him.

“Alice! I thought we were going to have to send someone to wake you and Ray up!” Seth exclaimed the moment you entered the dining hall.

“Sorry!” you answered with an apologetic smile. “Ray’s fault.” Grabbing a couple of plates, you loaded them with what was left from the breakfast spread, one for you and one for your lover. Just because he had made the both of you late didn’t mean he should miss out on eating, especially since he had considerably more work than you did.

Greeting the rest of the Black Army officers, you pulled out a chair at the table, but before you could take a seat familiar hands grasped your sides. Squeaking and jumping, your hands just barely maintained their grasp on the plates as the grip on your abdomen shifted, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Ray!” you gasped, giving him a half-hearted glare over your shoulder.

“Yes?” he responded innocently, sparkling green eyes blinking back at you. All you could do was grumble as he smacked a kiss to your cheek, blushing under the gazes of the others seated at the table.

“You two are so touchy-feely,” Luka muttered and averted his gaze to the remaining eggs on his plate, his cheeks a light pink color as he chased them around with his fork.

“You can say that again,” Fenrir added, his tone teasing and mischievous as he winked at his best friend still twined around you.

“I think it’s nice,” Sirius chuckled into his coffee.

“I didn’t think we were that affectionate…” Despite the others being there, you couldn’t deny how good Ray’s embrace felt, how it made your heart flutter no matter how many times he held you. A part of you was disappointed when he let go with another quick kiss to your jaw and sat down beside you, thanking you for the plate through a mouthful of buttered toast.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a hum from Seth, the bluenette man raising a hand to his chin thoughtfully as his eyes narrowed. You knew that look - the look that solemnly said he was up to no good.

“Seth? What is it?”

“Oh, not much~,” he mused, but his growing smile said otherwise. “What do you say to a little challenge?”

Warning bells went off in your head. Sure, it was Seth who was offering the challenge, but then again it was Seth. You never knew what he was going to come up with. “What kind of challenge?” you questioned, one brow raised curiously.

Waving away your suspicion, he said, “Trust me, it’s nothing so bad, dear Alice.” Clapping his hands together in eager finality, he continued, “Since our king and Alice have such a hands-on relationship, how about a no hands challenge?”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Ray sighed, echoing your own thoughts.

“What do you mean by ‘no hands’?” Luka asked as he stood and began to gather the empty dishes.

“For the next...let’s say five days, neither of them are allowed to touch each other using their hands. Doesn’t it sound fu-”

“No,” Ray cut him off, his tone short.

“Eh??? What do you mean, no?” Seth whined with a pout.

“No,” he repeated. “It doesn’t sound like fun to me. I don’t want to do it.”

“You’re being unreasonable!”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, buddy! Why not give it a try?” Fenrir encouraged, trotting over to give his best friend a light smack on the shoulder. “Sirius, Luka, what do you think?”

“Mmm, it couldn’t hurt, could it? Who knows, the two of you might actually have fun with it,” Sirius commented, his smile amused in the face of Ray’s glare.

“It doesn’t really concern us, but I guess you can do what you want,” Luka added, looking a little uncomfortable and confused as he finished cleaning up the breakfast mess.

“All of you…” Ray groaned, turning his gaze on you. “What do you think? Do you want to do it?”

A teasing smirk not unlike his own slid into place on your lips, your eyes narrowing just a little in mischief. “I think it sounds fun. What about you? Don’t think you can keep your hands off me for five days?”

Something hot sparked in his eyes, something you were very familiar with. “I think the real problem is whether you can keep your hands off of me. Three days.”

“Deal.” Standing and spinning on your heel, you grabbed your empty plate in one hand and a stack of dirty dishes in the other before following Luka into the kitchen, giving your boyfriend a wink as you went.

“Yay~! I can’t wait to see how this goes!” Seth squealed happily, even as his king slumped into his chair with a tired sigh.

Moving to his side, Sirius clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Hang in there, fearless leader.”

Ray just groaned, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “I may not survive the next few days, Sirius.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next time you saw your lover was when you took him some paperwork from Sirius. One would think that would be a simple task, no contact required, but from the moment you opened the door to his office you could tell Ray wasn’t going to make this easy for you.

The air was thick with passionate tension, green eyes hot as they scorched over your form. Unable to look away from him, you saw the corner of his mouth twitch up in a hint of a playful smirk. Swallowing the sudden thickness in your throat, you tried to speak but had to stop and cough when all that came out was a whisper. “I-I have some papers for you from Sirius.”

Ray hummed and leaned back in his chair, a come hither expression on his handsome face. He wasn’t being fair and he knew it. “Let’s see it then.”

The atmosphere grew thicker with each step closer, your heart beating faster and faster until you were sure he could hear it. As he reached for the papers, his hand came so close to brushing your own you let go and jumped back, holding your hand to your chest. “No hands, remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Standing, he approached until he was as close as he could be without actually touching you. Leaning down, he whispered in your ear, “But the object of the challenge is trying to get the other person to lose, isn’t it?”

Your jaw dropped and you blinked up at him with wide eyes as he laughed and leaned close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes and the thick lashes rimming those gorgeous orbs. Why were you surprised that he had figured out a way to turn this situation in his favor?

One of his hands reached up, his fingers nearing your bottom lip, before he seemed to remember the situation and his hand came to hover a mere few centimeters away from your face. “I don’t like this challenge at all, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy it as much as possible.” His voice dropped, deep and husky, as he continued, “I wonder how long it’ll take before you give in?”

“D-Don’t hold your breath,” you choked, cursing the tremble in your voice. Forcing yourself to take a step away from him, you swallowed and tried to regain what was left of your composure, fisting your hands at your sides. “I’m going to win this. Just you wait.”

His smirk didn’t drop a bit, amusement joining the heat in his gaze. “I look forward to it.”

“Good!” Turning on your heel, you swept out of his office without another word, trying in vain to wish the awkwardness away. There was no way you could allow yourself to lose now, no matter how tempting it was.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day was the same way - Ray trying to make you give in with caressing looks and loving words whispered a hairsbreadth from your ear. He didn’t hold back in the slightest, sending you heated looks over the table during breakfast even with the presence of the other Black Army officers.

There was one big difference, however. You weren’t holding back either. Every look and word was met in kind with just as much passion and love.

You had realized something the night before, as you tried to find sleep in your own room without Ray beside you, you realized something. Two could play at his game. If he wasn’t going to make this either for you, then you were going to do the same for him.

“Are you sure this was a good idea, Seth?” Sirius murmured to the other man as they watched the blatant flirting continue. “Luka’s turning redder than the tomatoes.”

Seth just chuckled, his eyes glinting. “What are you talking about, Sirius? I think it’s brilliant. You’re not enjoying the PDA?”

“I almost want to lock them in a closet together just to end it,” the older man grumbled.

They continued watching as you reached for one of the ladling spoons only to have Ray reach for it as well, his hand narrowly missing yours as it gripped the handle a little further up. Your eyes met his, both holding on to the spoon and daring the other to let go first.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to hold my hand just now,” you mused, grinning.

“I could say the same of you,” Ray smirked back, finally relinquishing the ladle to you.

If you and Ray hadn’t been so focused on each other, you probably would have heard Sirius’ eye roll.

The rest of the challenge brought similar events, though both you and Ray seemed to rev up your game, each move around each other riskier than the last. It seemed both of you were fully into the challenge now, neither wanting to lose.

Whenever you passed each other in the hallway, he would move closer, threatening to brush against you. You wouldn’t back down though, walking closer to him as you greeted him. Your fingers would twitch at your side, inviting him to take the bait. For someone who often showed his affection silently, through actions or touch, it was becoming increasingly harder for Ray to resist.

Your battle ended on the third and final day, when Ray finally managed to push you over the edge...or so he’d thought.

He’d been out on patrol with Fenrir when he’d had to save a cat stuck in a river. As such, he was soaked when he got back to headquarters. He hadn’t meant to walk in on you in the middle of cleaning his room while wearing a now transparent white button-down, his hair still dripping and his pants clinging to his legs. But hey! Who was he to complain when he saw you freeze, your eyes taking every inch of him in while your cheeks turned a becoming shade of red.

He caught the way your hands tightened on your feather duster and his trademark smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.

“Why are you wet?” you asked softly, averting your eyes.

Reaching up to run a hand through his damp hair, he pulled the door closed. “Had to jump into a river to save a cat.”

“Is the cat okay?” You knew it was a dumb thing to say, but your brain was short-circuiting.

“You care more about the cat than your own boyfriend? How cruel,” he chuckled, pulling his shirt over his head. He could’ve unbuttoned it, but that wouldn’t have given you the same show. Left in pants that hung low on his hips, he caught you staring out of the corner of your eye.

“Y-You know that’s not what I mean!” you gasped softly, turning away from him completely. “You’re such a tease.”

Stalking over to you, he stood just close enough that you could feel the phantom warmth of him and murmured, “Am I?”

He was surprised by how fast you were. One moment you were in front of him and the next you had him pinned against the wall, your blushing face inches from his as you stared into his eyes, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

Ray couldn’t take it anymore. You were too cute not to kiss. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he closed what little space remained between your bodies and pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your little sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed kissing you until just now. His lips devoured yours desperately, hungrily. When you parted for air, he followed you, your soft call of his name cut off.

When he finally did release you from his kiss, both of you were panting, foreheads pressed together as you tried to catch your breath. “I guess I win then?” he panted, pecking the corner of your mouth.

“No,” you said simply, delighting in his surprised expression.

He blinked. “No?”

“I’m not touching you with my hands, am I?” Indeed you were not, your hands pressed flat to the wall on either side of him while his were firmly on your waist.

“You…” Ray was speechless. He’d thought he’d had you there, but you’d been planning since the moment he’d walked in. “I can’t believe you found a loophole like that.”

Kissing the tip of his nose, you giggled. “What can I say? It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong, love.”

Laughter bubbled up from deep in his chest, and the next thing he knew his face was buried in your shoulder as his body heaved and tears streamed down his face. The whole situation was just so funny to him, he couldn’t help himself. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest; he was so incredibly happy just from you being you. “I lose. You’re just too good.”

The moment he felt the touch of your hands on his bare skin, he tackled you to his bed, eager to make up for the three days of no contact.

#ikemen #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird #ikemen revolution #ikerev #ikemen revolution ray #ikerev ray #otome #otome x reader #ray blackwell x reader #no hands (ray blackwell x reader)#romance #fluff #ikerev ray x reader #ikemen x reader #ikemen fanfiction

88 notes · View notes

rokutouxei · 4 years

Text

lips against his mouth

ikemen vampire: temptations in the dark arthur conan doyle / mc (avril) | T for language | 2902 | [ao3] somehow even if you know you’ll always lose the game to arthur, you keep playing. losing is worth it anyway. | @ikevamp-holiday-exchange happy holidays, @littlelady-blackwell, I hope this is to your taste!

Holiday season in the mansion was nothing less than as extravagant as its master. In truth, the celebration was less for the religious significance, and more for the sheer luxury of it—one that Le Comte would not dare miss out on.

While the untouched-by-time duo expressed no exact preference for their meal, the rather interesting mix of cultures of the other mansion residents led to a very colorful spread on the table—among many other dishes, some Kerststol for the Dutch brothers, some foie gras and caviar for the French soldiers, some dainty wagashi for the Japanese author, a variety of puddings and pies for the two Englishmen, some Glühwein as requested rather curtly by the musician, and, mostly for the humor of the time-slipped cook of the night, the closest he could get to his hometown’s favorite Christmas meal: take-out fried chicken cooked with 11 secret herbs and spices.

You beam. “Well, seems like our work here is done.”

“We made a good team, I think.”

You and Sebastian started your preparations long before the sun rose, and your hands were full with work from that moment on. But now that you’ve finally finished plating all the multiple courses of the multiple cuisines of multiple meals, it seemed very much worth it. A beautiful aroma—just about the smell of Christmas, gingerbread, pine cones, cinnamon—wafts from the dessert tray waiting on the side like a blessing, enticing people toward the beautifully laid table with everything from soups and salads to a beautifully carved duck.

At exactly six o’clock, the mansion residents slowly made their way out of their rooms and into the dining hall, each one marveling at the feast in front of them.

The dinner is, of course, nothing short of a success. Le Comte applauds both you and Sebastian for a job well done, and everyone is munching happily on the comfort Christmas food in between sips of wine and rouge. At some point, Vincent shares a story about Christmases with his family when he was much younger, and Mozart—in a drunken half-stupor—also interjects with a few of his own stories. The holiday cheer envelops the entire room, but something is missing, and you desperately try to fill it by being busy half-listening half- trying to shove a bit of everything on the table onto your plate.

Until he arrives, at last.

At first you don’t pay attention to him. Vincent and Dazai greet him rather happily when he enters—“Christmases are better when you’re complete,” Vincent says with a happy hum—but he doesn’t make a move to approach you. When you sneak a peek, he’s piling up with some pudding and a slice of an apple pie he’s surely saved to give for Isaac, based on how it’s placed on his plate. But you don’t raise your voice, don’t bring it up, just continue to focus on the flow of conversation, and now it’s Napoleon talking about Christmas masses at the Notre Dame. Not today, you tell yourself, you won’t give him what he wants.

Until he begs for it.

“Well hello love, fancy seeing you here.”

In a moment he has one arm slung around your shoulder, and his bangs brush against the soft of your cheek. You don’t even turn to look when you answer. “Why are you late? Where were you?”

“Why, if you’re that cross at me, I can imagine you’d be furious at how old chap Theo isn’t here yet either,” Arthur says.

“At least he had the decency to tell me he’d be out late tonight for a client thing,” you bite back. When you turn to Arthur and he only grins back, you push a large bite of kerststol into his open mouth before turning away again. “I’m not listening to your excuses. Finish your food.”

“Little bird, don’t be upset.” He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, and he sounds so concerned your little faux anger is starting to thaw at the edges. “I went to get you a present. And a game.”

One thing you hate—because you are absolutely weak to it—is when Arthur relies on a moment of vulnerability to get you to turn to his side. Every damn time he does this, you insist this is some sort of manipulation, but on the other hand Arthur likes to call it “an act of love.” Today, Arthur relents by pressing his chin against your shoulder rather softly, and winding his hands around your waist.

Oh, drat.

“I’m not upset,” you finally relent. You lost that one from the start. “But a game? What game?”

The face Arthur makes—half-grin, half-smirk—only spells trouble.

But that’s the face you fell in love with, and if you were ride or die with it ‘til the end.

“You know how Le Comte has lived a bloody long time now, right?” Arthur begins. “Now, I was snooping around once—no need to ask why—but I found this nice old bottle of Chartreuse in the cellar. Not just aged old, but straight-from-the-first-ever-casks-made old. Authentic antique stuff. Probably taste like god’s alcohol. Thought I’d come back for it some other day, but I never really got to, and based on my last look at Le Comte’s room, he hasn’t taken it up with him yet. So it should still be there.”

You know where this is going, but you’d rather confirm the crime first. “So what do we do?”

“Simple: we find the bottle, and we drink it,” Arthur says. “But not just drink it, we play a game with it. When—and I say when—we find that bottle, we play truth or drink. First one to get drunk loses.”

“You don’t have the best alcohol tolerance, Arthur.”

“Neither do you, and that’s why I’m betting on mine.”

“Fine,” you surrender. Only a few minutes with him and it seems like he always has the upper hand. And yet somehow you don’t dislike that. “But the one who doesn’t find the bottle gets a glass headstart.”

He grins, gesturing toward the unattended door. “That’s what I like about you, pet. Let’s go.”

Because life is unfair and you are not the mind behind legendary detective Sherlock Holmes, Arthur finds the bottle before you. He hums happily as he pulls out the dark Chartreuse bottle out from the shelf, leaving you astounded in front of the white wine bottles. He says something about knowing the year Chartreuse was made and the order everything was arranged, but that doesn’t matter anyway because you’ve lost.

Luckily, he doesn’t doom the both of you into drinking in the cellar, so after carrying out a pair of beer bottles and also one with red wine, the both of you make your way to the garden, settling under the gazebo, the only light the dim glow from the mansion and tiny specks of starlight. You place the beautiful crystal glasses you’ve “borrowed” from the little feast on the table and Arthur pops open the drink.

“This isn’t the only reason you took us down here, is it?” you ask him, as he pours some Chartreuse—a beautiful green-yellow liquid that smells amazing.

“Is it so bad I want to have my lady alone to myself on Christmas Eve?” he says as he finishes pouring his own glass. “How about a toast to a wonderful holiday?”

You do a toast and drink under the night sky, faintly hearing the bustle from inside the dining hall. Arthur turns towards you and gives you a look.

“Would you rather be back inside with the rest of them?”

You pause for a full moment—just to mess with him; you see his expression slowly shift—before answering, “No, I’d rather be out here with you.”

“Golly, sure like to give me a heart attack, don’t you?” he chuckles. Then he turns towards you with a glint in his eyes. “Let’s play the game, Avril.”

The penalty of single glass of Chartreuse headstart? That hit hard. After you downed it you immediately regretted saying it in the first place. What kind of confidence did you have in that moment that you’d find the bottle first anyway? It was Arthur who saw the bottle before you even began. He was bound to win. But a game is a game and it must be played.

You swirl the Chartreuse on your glass and turn to Arthur.

“Since I had the first glass, you answer first.”

“Sure,” he says, tilting his empty glass towards you.

“Let’s start with something simple,” you consider. “After you turned into a vampire, what thing was the hardest change for you?”

“Oh, those kinds of questions. I was thinking the naughtier kind.”

You glare at him. “Hey, you don’t have a say on the questions I ask. Just the answers. C’mon.”

“Well,” he pauses. “I think the one that took a while to adjust to was the food. Or rather how it wasn’t needed anymore. Sure, Sebas cooks meals as normal, but it’s not the same kind of satisfying as with, say, humans eating food. Rather like a vice, really: enjoyable, but otherwise rather empty.”

You frown, thinking of the plates and plates of food you’ve eaten with Arthur. “But it’s not as bleak as you make it out to be, is it? It’s still pleasant, right?”

“Of course it is!” he says. “Especially when it’s with you.”

The smile returns to your face. “Okay, your turn.”

“How experienced are you when it comes to sex?”

You feel your face flush bright red, and this isn’t the alcohol, you’re sure. “What?”

“No objections allowed on the questions,” Arthur says, mirroring your answer earlier.

You huff. “And then what? You’re going to get jealous and blame me for it?”

“That’s assuming there’s anything I can be jealous of?” he hums. “I already have you. Why would I still be jealous?”

You look hesitantly at Arthur, and he points at the Chartreuse bottle as if saying, if you don’t trust me, then drink? But you do trust him, you do, and that’s the hard part. You sigh in defeat and whisper a vague detail in his ear, something just enough to sate his interest and nothing in gory detail. You squeeze your hands on your lap. Your greatest worry is that he judges you, after all.

But he only smiles at you. “Interesting! Thank you for entertaining my little curiosity.”

You are filled with relief. “Why were you so curious about it anyway?”

He shrugs. “Just wanted to know where you learned to be like that.”

You’re sure all your blood has now rushed to your cheeks. “Arthur!”

“Yes, yes, okay, I’m stopping,” he laughs, shrugging you off. “Your turn.”

“Next time ask a better question,” you say while pouting. You consider your next question as a point of counterattack. “Oh, oh, I have a good one.” You raise your glass towards him. “I know you were always chasing after ‘little skirts’ and all, and you’ve made an entire living out of it in the past—”

“I did not! Who said that?”

“—but my point is, have you ever—even just tried—to be with a dude? Even just once!”

Arthur considers this for a full moment, pursing his lips and even running his tongue over it, before he takes the Chartreuse bottle and begins to fill his glass up. Your jaw goes slack.

“Really? You’re drinking to that?”

“Some men have to keep their secrets, you know.”

“I won’t judge you, Arthur.”

“I know you won’t,” he says, before he downs the contents of the glass. “But this relationship would benefit from a bit of mystery, don’t you think? Besides, this game is no fun if no one drinks.”

“Fine,” you say, relaxing back into your seat. “Your turn.”

“Okay. What’s the thing you like best about me?” Arthur asks.

In that instant, you can think of a million answers, and listing them would maybe take you forever, but you decide the best one to say is nothing, so you pour some Chartreuse into your glass.

He pouts. “Now you’re doing that just to spite me.”

“So what if I am?”

“Oh, I’ll find a way you’ll tell me, one way or another,” Arthur concedes, and you only smile as you take your drink.

You don’t know how long the two of you sit out there drinking, but if the moon was any indicator, as it soared across the night sky, then you’ve spent a good amount of time out here. The questions don’t run out, from the mundane to the absolutely scandalous, firing at each other, seeking outrageous answers with the confidence of a drunk man on remembering what occurred overnight. At some point you switch from drinking as a penalty to drinking for the fun of it, and it doesn’t take long for the Chartreuse to go empty, and so Arthur pops open the next bottle, and the next. Luckily, the tipsiness doesn’t hit you enough to make you black out, just very gooey on the edges, and eventually you end up lying with your head on his lap. By this time you’ve given up the glasses for drinking straight from the bottle—“like a real pirate!”—which you alternate taking swigs out from.

Tongue loose, you look at Arthur’s blue, blue eyes and smile softly. “Hey, you know that thing you asked earlier?”

“Mm?”

“About what thing I liked about you?”

He pouts again. “Yeah, you refused to answer it.”

“No, no, no, baby, don’t pout,” you say, reaching out for his face. “There’s a reason for it. And it’s because I didn’t want to tire my tongue out talking. Because it’s everything.” You feel a grin form on his face. Taking this as a sign of approval, you begin to babble. “I like you. You know how weird it is to be this attracted to someone? Even I didn’t think I could fall in love like this. Just completely, fully, over-the-moon… ugh. I love you. I love all of you. Every single square inch of you, even your big, big, big, big”—a moment to consider—“brain.”

Arthur clears his throat and gives you a knowing smirk, to which the two of you laugh.

“Baby,” you coo. “I have another question.”

“What is it?”

You take a moment as if considering your question, but then realize there is nothing you have to fear when you have Arthur next to you. You stare at him with eyes filled with an infinite love, and ask, “Why did you choose me?”

Taken off-guard by the look on your face, Arthur turns away from you and looks up at the mansion, where he sees the faint shadow of Le Comte and Leonardo talking by the balcony. The party must have long been over by this time. Behind the mansion is a vast black sky, illuminated by the dim blue light of stars.

He begins to stroke your hair with his hands, soothing fingertips smoothing out the strands. You nuzzle against him—nearly purr, like a cat—but don’t insist on the question, don’t rush him, and Arthur doesn’t quite have the courage to look at you yet because he knows if he does he might just burst into vulnerable tears.

What a silly question, he thinks. What does it mean to choose when there are no other options? Sure, he’d been playing around but it wasn’t like he was looking for something like this. He hadn’t expected he’d be able to find something like this at all. Arthur loved the game—and he loved to play it, and he thought he could play it forever and ever and ever.

He couldn’t. He didn’t want to, anymore.

So no. There were no options. But that doesn’t mean that he had only chosen you because there was no one else. It was how he did not want anyone else. No one had passed the test. No one else had the qualifications. There was an entrance exam to Arthur’s heart and you had aced every single assessment.

But even that wasn’t right. You didn’t go out of your way to seek him out or romance him. It was all rather… organic. You weren’t just a hopeful, you weren’t some sort of candidate. You weren’t a selection on a list. You never were.

Arthur’s voice hides deep inside his voicebox like a scared mouse, like if he dares make a sound he’ll be found out. But he knows these are words that deserve to be heard. So he says it.

“I didn’t choose you, little bird,” he finally dares to say, his voice small and weak like it’ll crumble, with the bottle’s lips against his mouth, “It was you who had chosen me.”

But by the time this answer leaves his mouth you had long fallen into the realm of sleep, snoring lightly and rather adorably on his lap. Not that it matters, Arthur thinks, as he finishes the rest of the bottle and stares out at the sprawling garden. He doesn’t even need alcohol, the next time. He’ll say it again and again and again if you ask.

Tomorrow he’ll give you your Christmas gift. But he knows that no matter what he gives, it will never match the gift you have given him in allowing to be his.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur #2019ikevampholidayexchange #arthur conan doyle #fic #I hope my standard portrayal of an MC isn’t too off character!#hope you had a good holiday!#rating:T

90 notes · View notes