#Vampire Au

[space-blue]

The Vampire of Venice [Eminence Tedesco is ready to see you now]

[mishim0]

Comic cover finally heree

The prologue is almost here too, and everything else will be posted on Twitter, Instagram and tiktok (and maybe on webtoon) I really hope you enjoy this little thing I'm writting 🫶

[0815bliss]

Halloweeny Vash (and WW)

[kingprinceleo]

Vampire au- tiny little fic thing related to this sketch wahhh (366 words) ;

Rising and falling, Sonic breathing becomes a quiet harmony to the crackly record singing to the open air of his bedroom. Bouncing off the walls, the music becomes but a quiet whisper by the time it reaches Shadows ears in the closed off loft bed they both occupy.

Shadow looks over the sleeping body before him, illuminated with cascading light. Birds sing a tinny melody and cicadas chirp artificially from the wall mounted screen beside them. Spanning the length of the loft, a video of a meadow has been playing for the last couple hours, its grassy fields gently blowing with the wind and radiant sun beaming down as far as the landscape can capture.

With idealistic features perfectly frozen in time -though still alluding to livelihood-, it's picturesque, but it's all it will ever be. The tainted blue light of the digital barrier will never warm Sonic’s skin the way the real sun soaks into his features. How it makes every part of him seem to glow brighter despite its nature against him.

Sonic carefully cultivates his stifled affection towards the beautiful synthetic resemblance that will never fulfill that same craving that was lost to him so long ago. He appreciates what he has, grateful to have it at all, making peace with its cold uncaring nature, but as always, he aims higher. Determined to take back the freedom that was once his.

Shadow shifts down to lay beside him, running a hand through Sonic's messy bedhead. Through the motion, he watches the way the light moves along his stray quills, letting a sigh escape past an unmonitored exhale. Shadow’s next breath gets caught in his chest when Sonic shifts at the touch and turns into the full embrace of the screen's light, blanketing him in soft greens, airy yellows and vibrant blues. It catches on his eyelashes, gentle in its touch.

Shadow finds himself watching longer than he anticipated. Finally, he squeezes his eyes shut in a huff, shuffling into a comfortable spot between the pillows.

Light like that doesn't last, always the first to dim to nothing. After all, this stage of his eternal life will only last the blink of an eye.

[sleepless-yura]

Jayvik vampire&werewolf au comic, pages 1-6

It’s all about the innocence of Jayce's original intentions without awareness of where he's pulling himself into, while Viktor knowing forward about himself exactly how he’s gonna feel and what he’s gonna think

Half way done here, want to reward myself with a long sleep and a bowl of ice cream, because I have been painting it for 3 weeks straight

[r4hhhhhh]

Did you miss me? Admit it you missed me/ref

Behold, chat, I've got some vampire AU fanart for you guys. :) Ngl, I got inspired by the vampire fanfics made for these two and my emo playlist I was listening to on repeat for the last couple of days.

Enjoy, you silly little people on the internet who might or might not exist. (Any suggestions on what I should draw next?)

Also, before I leave again for an unknown amount of time, I have a favor to ask: could some of you fill out this small survey I made for my math project? :')

Alright, that's all I got for now bye--

[iiilllsam]

vamp!pen can absolutely get it 🙈

[keopihaus]

Grab a cup of coffee and settle in—newly added: Ruby red retaliation by @heechwe

RUBY RED RETALIATION | 이희승

⟢ PAIRING: lee heeseung x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 2.5K ⟢ GENRE: smut ⟢ TAGS: vampire!hee, dhampir!reader, pwp, brat!reader, pet names (sweetheart, love, darling, etc), dom + sub dynamics (dom!hee + sub!reader), free use + dub-con in certain moments, sensory play, marking, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie ⟢ SYNOPSIS: The Lee clan, specifically Lee Heeseung, has been in power for centuries. Any low-born dhampir like yourself would be lucky to be in the company of him for a mere moment. But he has you all the time, to do with as he pleases whenever he wants. Especially when you act out. -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Inspired to write this for my Beebee's birthday @bambiihee!! I love you so much lovebug and I hope you enjoy this as my gift to you! I tried to make it freaky and sweet at the same time cause I know you love both lol enjoy and scream with me later, and again I love you very much ♥︎ Thank you to my ride or dies beta-ing this for me (@prkhaven @faeyun @lovetaroandtaemin), you're all gems and ILY.

The second you engaged in conversation with Park Jongseong, you knew in some part of your soul Heeseung would be watching.

Heeseung looked on at you conversing with the fellow vampire like you two were the only people in the room. He noted the electricity of your smile, how wide it was, and the gleam of your fangs under the many chandeliers. Even from across the ballroom floor, he could tell. But what made him want to break his wineglass between his fingers was the subtle squeeze of your hand on Jongseong's bicep, you giggling the entire time as his friend remained curiously pleased.

He wasn't supposed to feel this way about a charge. A year ago, you were simply a meager dhampir living on the streets with no money or titles to your name. Now, you live in luxury no other woman, mortal or immortal, could imagine for herself, and you loved every moment, or so he believed. All you were asked to do was take care of Heeseung's more personal affairs before and after he came home from handling council or clan business.

Why did you, along with one of his council members, have to stir up these feelings inside of him? Why did the heart that stopped beating so long ago inside his chest feel like it was aching?

He knows the cadence of your laugh, the touch of your warm skin against his icy fingertips. He can make you beg and plead like you're doing so with your very last breath, only to turn it into the most decadent of whispers and moans that he's ever heard. You belong to him and with him, under all pretenses. So, what was your goal?

Heesung searches for the answer as the party guests take their leave, walking out and into the night on wobbly feet with promises on their lips to see him at the next meeting. He tries to find it before he walks into the hallway that leads to your quarters, but he comes up empty. And when he stands there at your door, his fury overpowering his composure, he doesn't know if there's a true answer to be found.

Heesung pushes your door open with both hands, the wood splintering against the inside wall of your room from the impact. He'll have to order a new one later, but that's not of consequence. He'll order a dozen if it sets you right.

You flinch at your vanity, baring your teeth at the intruder without a second to waste. They retract in the next moment when you realize who it is, your eyes crinkling at the edges. "Oh, good evening." You hold your hairbrush in your hand awkwardly, unsure why he's made such a show of coming into your private quarters. Your fear and subsequent relief almost twinges at Heeseung's dead heartstrings. Almost.

Before another word can slip out, Heeseung lifts you up and onto the vanity table to kiss you senseless. Your brush clanks to the floor, but you barely hear it over the sound of your moans and Heeseung's wet mouth claiming yours. Your makeup runs from how hard he touches you, red lipstick gathering away from your mouth and other areas of your face. He's always ravenous, even in the beginning moments where your lips touch and your hands are frenzied. But this feels different.

Your body melts in his grip as he yanks at the ties and buttons still keeping your dress in place. "Fucking insolent things," he mutters as he gets to the last ribbon, pleased when your breasts spill free and into his hands. He kneads them like dough that needs softening, but there's nothing soft about him tonight. He's rough, mechanical, on a mission.

Abruptly, Heeseung pulls away from your swollen lips to gaze down at you. His red eyes blaze like the grand fireplace downstairs, and you gulp down a hefty breath of air as you wait for his next words. "I want you in my room in the next five minutes. Bring your bindings," he commands before stepping out of your room altogether. The wind whispers as he stomps away without another word, heavy and thick like the wax candles illuminating the path to your closet's chest of accessories and other materials.

Materials like your black silk cloths, the very bindings you're expected to bring with you staring up at you in anticipation.

You tiptoe barefoot to the opposite side of the manor, still half-naked but knowing you have only two minutes left before you're expected in Heeseung's room. When you push the iron door open, he's already discarded his clothes at his bedside. His cock stands tall in the center of his body's lower half, the tip red and leaking down his veiny shaft. His breathing heavies when he sees you. Your chest is still exposed for him, and you had no time to clean the smudged lipstick across your chin and cheek. His jaw ticks, and you know he's trying to fight the eagerness to take you right then and there.

"Knees. Now."

You place the strips of fabric at your feet before kneeling in front of him, your mouth gathering spit at its corners from both uncertainty and excitement.

You knew you would be reprimanded for talking to another man out of turn and without Heeseung by your side, especially one as powerful as his associate, but that didn't stop you.

You wanted this, and you still want it.

Heeseung strides over to you and places two fingers under your chin. "Are you aware of the reasons why I must bind you?"

You whisper, "Because I've been bad, sir."

"Bad is not the right word for this situation." He chuckles with no cover of humor. It's all steam, on the verge of being volcanic. "You deliberately made a scene talking to my colleague without my permission. Did you expect me to take that level of disrespect lightly, darling?"

"No, sir. I'm sorry," you mumble, eyes down-turned to the floor. Heeseung clicks his tongue and you immediately raise your stare again.

"It's clear that you're not, my love, but you will be. Trust me." Heeseung makes quick work of knotting your hands in front of you, the black silk gleaming in the candelabra lights. What you do not expect is for him to take another piece of fabric to wrap around your head, concealing your eyes.

"Sir, wait—"

"You don't command me." His voice almost sounds sad he has to do this, that he must teach you a lesson about crossing his preset boundaries. He relieves you of your dress, the garment a pile of fabric at your feet he kicks away without a care. He slides your underwear to the side, amused to see your gathered wetness between your thighs. "That's not how this works, sweetheart."

Heeseung traces your face with his other hand, cold fingertips passing along your skin like ice. You jerk your head just slightly, your loss of vision heightening your other senses, especially your sensitivity to touch.

"You belong to me. You'll always be mine, mine to do with as I see fit," he whispers into your neck. He sucks at your neck, the pulse point pounding in his ears. You moan as his fangs shoot out, the tips of them piercing the skin. He sucks for a long few minutes, eager to taste your iron on his tongue. Your writhe against him in euphoric bliss, the feeling akin to its own pleasurable release, and he must be feeling the same way. He licks at the droplets of blood running down your neck, trailing back to the hickey he's created and kissing you there too. "And you know you'll take it, every ounce of pain or pleasure, because it satisfies me."

You whimper, leaning into him more and grinding your body towards his hand. It's so close yet so far, and it makes you whine more. "Yes, sir, all I want is to satisfy you."

Heeseung chuckles darkly. "Then why do you drive me so crazy?"

The question hangs in the air, a pregnant pause punctuating your quest for an answer. "Because you like it when I make you crazy, sir," is the answer that leaves your lips. That, in tandem with your moan from Heeseung's fingers dipping into your core, makes every good and bad feeling stirring inside of him explode.

He shouldn't want you so badly, but he can't seem to help it. Your blood fills him up in a way no other human or dhampir's ever has. Maybe it's because you make him chase you, even when he's the one in charge. Every time he's forced to quell you into submission, he feels weaker than when he started, and something about that fact makes life more vibrant, less dull in comparison to when you weren't around.

Is this what love feels like? After so many years outrunning it, living his life as a vampire in solitude, has it finally caught up to him?

He sharply removes his hand from your center and thrusts his cock into your mouth, a gasp escaping his lips as he inches it all the way to the back of your throat. You gag immediately around him from the pressure. Your eyes gather with tears, the droplets staining the black silk. Heeseung grunts, the feeling of your warm mouth soothing his irritation with every movement.

"You have such a perfect mouth, my love, especially when you use it like this." He thrusts harder, the warmness of your lips too incredible to slow down or stop.

Your words are muffled around his cock, but he knows you're begging for a minute to catch up, for some relief from the burning in your esophagus. Heeseung doesn't care; he's too far gone now, and you deserve no mercy. Not when he was given the same treatment a few hours ago. "You're going to keep sucking my cock until that mouth is filled with nothing but my cum. Understood?"

The slight nod is the confirmation he needs to move his hips harder. He knots the hair at the back of your head in his fist as he fucks your face. A few more thrusts happen before he falls apart, a minute's worth of semen sliding down your warm throat. It's heavenly having all of you to take for his own pleasure, especially when he's reprimanding you for your petty and superficial acts of defiance.

He walks you over to the four-poster king bed, positioning you on your bound hands and weakened knees. Your ass sits up in the air for him, and he almost growls at the sight of your dripping cunt. "You don't deserve it, but I want to make sure you're prepared for me before I fuck you."

He trails one finger from your perineum to the sticky walls of your pussy. You try arching your back to slide closer, and he spanks you hard on the center of your left ass cheek. "Did I say you could do that, love? Or do I have to tie you to the bed to stay still?"

You shake your head immediately, tears running down your face from the lack of stimulation. "N-No sir, I just want you so bad. Please, I'll never do anything like this again."

Heeseung's heart clenches as his laughter bubbles up once again. "Don't say words you don't mean, my love." He smacks the opposite cheek, this mark stinging harder than the last one, and you cry out.

He goes back to toying with your hole, your walls spasming around the merest inch of his one finger. "You're so eager tonight. Is this for me, or for my fucking friend you were flirting with earlier?"

You swing your head in both directions so hard, it makes you dizzy. "No, sir, I only ever get this wet for you. You're the only one, have always been." You swallow a heavy breath, unsure how to say the next words on your tongue. "I-I love you."

All the anger he's carried with him for hours disappears at those three words. In place of fear, he only feels happiness. He undoes the binds behind your head and at your wrists, turning you over to see your beautiful wide eyes staring up at him.

His red ones burn now not with ire or fury, but an all-consuming passion he did not know existed before until this moment. Maybe it's always been there, but his pride has been too adamant on keeping the truth of his emotions concealed.

Heeseung presses both hands to either side of your face before he kisses you gently. The tender man behind the powerful vampire appears once again, and you soften in his hold. "I do love you, so much Heeseung," you say to him.

You notice his fangs amidst his bright smile, the teeth still stained red from his earlier feeding. "I love you too, sweetheart."

Heeseung captures your lips again as he lines his cockhead up with your entrance, sliding in easily from the wetness that's gathered around your sex.

"Such a tight cunt, every time," he grunts. "I love you so much," he repeats, filling you up.

Each inch is ecstasy, more enticing than every feeding he's ever had. He swallows your moans as he thrusts. The two of you fall down and into the precipice of your respective orgasms.

You dig your heels into his lower back as his hips meet your own, and you call out his name the longer and faster he goes. "I want to come, Hee. Please let me come."

"You will, my love. Let's fall together."

He knows this release will be more intense than the last. Your walls welcome him in and suck him tighter, his sanity shredding with each touch, every thrust. It's bliss, and when you orgasm with his name on your tongue, he ceases to exist.

All that remains of him is you.

Ropes of his cum warm your insides, coating you with his newly professed love and insatiable need to make you his in every way.

Heeseung throws the silk bindings off of the bed once he pulls out of you, the fabric flapping in the inconspicuous wind until it falls to the floor. He covers the two of you in his warm sheets and wraps you in his arms when he regains his composure.

"I apologize if I went too far before," he says into the crook of your neck. His lips murmur more apologies into your skin, but you shake them off.

"I wanted to. I know what to say and do if I didn't want to. Besides, it's cute when you get mad. Like you have something to prove," you confess with a smile.

He scoffs. "Oh, really? And what exactly do I have to prove?"

"Nothing, sir." You quirk an eyebrow at him in jest, and he smirks playfully. "You already have me in every way."

"As do you. You own me in a way no one else ever has." He kisses down your collarbones and to your breast, leaving petal-like pecks on each nipple before his mouth reaches your stomach. Your giggles become moans as he crawls lower, right to where he taps the hood of your clit with his tongue. "Let me show you."

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @frenchkisstheabyss @prkhaven @tinycatharsis @fangel @aaa-sia @yvnempire @addictedtohobi @innocygnet @filmnings @lovetaroandtaemin @xylatox @dawngyu

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators @cosyhomenet @sweetvenomnet

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼��𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[noethys]

the vampire and the sacrificial bride

[melanirana]

I've been struck by an image of @xitsensunmoon Vamp boys (the image is old as fuck but I finally got around to drwaing it)

want some peace and quite fro your Vampiers Roommates?

Garlic bread.

[oobbbear]

She’s singing about fries

[brights-place]

OKAY THIS IS PEAK ALL OF THIS PEOPLE SHOULD READ Imm like on part 2 right now but its SOO GOOD

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

Most believe that vampires do not exist. That they're just an old tale that has been reused countless times in the forms of horror in romance. But you know otherwise. After all, vampires do have a special affection for you for reasons unknown. Delving into the world of the night is something totally different though. Especially for someone who’s been trying to avoid these creatures that practically hunt you.

But then, one step closer in the form of a vampire you accidentally befriend and the slope becomes slippery.

It’s time you learned what happens during hours in the moonlight by the side of vampires who come in the form of friends, allies, and potentially foes.

Here it is! My Twisted Wonderland Vampire AU! I hope you all enjoy!!

Part 1 of Hours in the Moonlight: Fairest Midnight Master-List

Part 2 of Hours in the Moonlight: Persevering Afterlight Master-List

Part 3 of Hours in the Moonlight: Guileful Nightfall Master-List

Part 4 of Hours in the Moonlight: Somnolent Gloaming Master-List

Part 5 of Hours in the Moonlight: Solitary Eventide Master-List

Part 6 of Hours in the Moonlight: Fathomless Vespers Master-List

Part 7 of Hours in the Moonlight: Rose Red Dawn Masterlist

If you would like to read more fics like these, my Twisted Wonderland Master-List can be found here: Twisted Wonderland Master-List.

[prettycalla]

|| litatio ||

Pairing: Geta/Reader/Caracalla

Summary: You have heard tale of the monsters that lie within the Palace walls. Little do you realise, they have their sights set on you.

Word count: 6k

Tags and warnings: Vampire AU, smut (not terribly explicit, but still very obvious), horror elements, mentions of blood and death (but nothing too graphic), biting, this is not emperor shipping - they're solely interested in reader, reader has the "mark me down as scared and horny" vibe, reader is she/her, no use of Y/N. 18+!! Minors, please do not interact!!

(All of this started as comments about Geta that got way out of hand, and well, here we are. Whoops. @getaapologist also has a fantastic Vampire AU, please check out her work! She's like, the Queen of writing Geta to me.)

Masterlist || Taglist

There are rumours that echo through the halls of the Imperial Palace. Whispers passed quickly between servants.

Of the monsters that lurk within the grand walls.

Try as you might, it is difficult to ignore them. At first, you had thought they were merely the overactive musings of bored kitchen workers. But now…

A third person has gone missing. Stolen from their bed. If the violent scene left in their quarters is anything to go by, it was not quick.

Whatever it is, it knows what it does.

You do your utmost to keep yourself safe, keeping solely to the kitchens and the servant’s quarters as best you can. The Palace is deathly silent at night now, and everyone travels together in pairs or more where they can.

It is strange, but even with all of your safety measures, you cannot help but feel as though…something is watching you. It makes the hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. You try to convince yourself that it is the collective fear of those around you that is causing these deluded thoughts, but it does not work.

The feeling persists. You are losing sleep. The paranoia continues to loom and spread like a disease.

A fourth servant is soon found to be missing from their bed. They, too, met a violent end.

You mention the idea of passing the information along to the Emperors. It is immediately dismissed.

“As if they would care about what happens to us” is the sentiment you are met with, again and again.

“Perhaps if it were to be framed as concern for their safety,” you argue, but still you are met with resistance.

You decide to take matters into your hands. The next morning, you rush through your tasks as best you can, so that you may have a little time to slip out and make good on your word, at least to yourself. You tell no one, wanting to avoid the ridicule that would certainly follow.

It is a long walk, made longer by the dread that sits like lead in the pit of your stomach. It is not purely from why you must make such a visit to the Emperors - it is the Emperors themselves that leave you filled with apprehension.

Geta and Caracalla are the most feared men in the Roman Empire, and you, lowly servant that you are, have never been in a room with them alone. It has always been at grand banquets and festivities, pressed against a wall and hidden in the shadows until you are called upon. Never have either of them called upon you personally, and so you have yet to see them other than from afar.

You can feel the palms of your hands growing clammy from the very thought of it.

When you finally reach the throne room, you are met by a pair of large, intimidating Imperial guards, standing on either side of the grand doors. They cast a brief glance in your direction, but say nothing.

You muster what little courage you have.

"Excuse me," you say, your voice smaller than you would like it to be. "I need to speak with the Emperors."

One of the guards raises an eyebrow at you, before returning to a neutral expression once more.

You try again, determined to complete your task; however scared you may feel.

“Please, it is an emergency,” you beg, your hands clasped tightly to your chest.

The guards give you their full attention then, looking over your form before casting a glance at each other. They seem to decide that you alone are of no threat, as they push the heavy doors open to announce your arrival.

You immediately cast your gaze to the floor, for fear of incurring the wrath of the Emperors before you have even started what you have set out to do. You carefully make your way across the room, stopping a few metres short of where the Emperors sit, and greet them with a low bow.

"Speak," a voice commands.

It is low, with a smoothness to it. Geta, you realise.

"My Emperors," you begin, your voice already beginning to tremble.

A wild laugh interrupts you, high-pitched as it echoes through the high-ceilinged room.

"Are we really so frightening to look at?" this new voice asks.

It is Caracalla who speaks now. His voice is hoarse, with a rougher edge to it.

You reluctantly raise your head to look at them, keeping your gaze just shy of theirs. Both sets of eyes watch you carefully - it is intimidating, to say the least. Now that you are so close, you are able to see the differences in them. The fullness of Geta's mouth, the curve of Caracalla's nose. You knew them to be handsome, of course, but this...You are finding yourself growing distracted.

Geta sits on the right, elegant and composed in how he presents himself. Caracalla, by contrast, is almost slumped in his throne on the left, legs spread with his hand resting on his cheek. His robes mercifully provide him with some modesty, you cannot help but think to yourself.

"What business do you have with us?" Geta asks. "We do not have all day."

"My Emperors, forgive my intrusion, but there have been attacks in the servant's quarters of late," you reply, clutching your shaking hands tightly.

Caracalla lets out another high-pitched giggle. You hold your tongue, in spite of your irritation.

"We are concerned, Emperors, that you may both be in danger if this...creature is not stopped," you continue.

"Creature?" Geta asks. "What makes you think it is a creature?"

"The...The deaths," you manage to say, your voice failing you for a brief moment. "There is such violence to them. It cannot possibly be mortal."

There is a moment of silence then, that stretches long and uneasily across the grand room.

Caracalla sits up suddenly, as if he has realised something. He leans in close to his brother, whispering something in his ear that you cannot decipher. A small smile tugs at the corners of Geta's mouth. It sends a chill down your spine.

"I must thank you for bringing this matter to our attention," he says.

His tone is different now, but you cannot quite place why. It is still calm, even pleasant, but...

Whatever it is, it escapes you.

“You will certainly be rewarded for your efforts,” he continues, with a little bow of his head.

Caracalla's smile is too wide as he looks at you.

“Yes,” he says, nodding enthusiastically. “Most certainly rewarded.”

You cannot help but feel uneasy at their words, but you dare not show it. You bow politely instead, with a gracious smile.

“I am most grateful for your time, my Emperors,” you say. “I will leave now to return to my duties.”

It takes everything in your power not to run from the room the moment you have turned your back to them. As soon as the grand doors close behind you, you take off, scurrying back to the safety of the kitchens.

You say nothing of your visit, and no one is the wiser. You hope that you have been able to make a difference. Something has to change, things cannot go on as they are.

Your thoughts are unfocused as you go about your work. You cannot stop thinking about the Emperors. You knew them to be unsettling in their presence, but even so...

Something eludes you. Something that feels important.

You are unable to sleep as you lay in bed that night. The two other servants who share space with you have since fallen asleep, their soft snores echoing through the otherwise silent room. Normally it is soothing to you - you find comfort in knowing that you are not alone, particularly recently - but now your mind knows no rest. You think back to the events of the day, of meeting the Emperors. Of Caracalla's cruel laugh when you relayed your story, of the disconcerting smile Geta had given you.

What had Caracalla said to him?

You go over it all, again and again, until your eyes are unable to remain open any longer. You try your best to resist, but it grows more difficult, nearing impossible.

Just where are you hiding?

A voice, sudden and unbidden, as if from somewhere in the recesses of your mind. You know it, you are sure of it. But from where?

You sit up, straining your ears as you listen for it again. You do not dare leave the room, but you must know who it was that spoke.

Perhaps the paranoia that lurks within each of the servants has finally infected you too; yet still you sit in wait, hoping that you will hear it again.

Hours pass, and your exhaustion finally defeats you. You think no more of it, as you drift off into fitful dreams of fiery hair and dripping blood.

Time passes, and the situation is only growing worse. More and more servants are disappearing, only to be hastily replaced with new ones. Tensions rise ever higher, and no one dares even speak the names of the disappeared, for fear that it will bring some sort of curse upon them. Even you, polite as you are, barely stop to recognise the newcomers anymore, as you know that it will not be long before they are gone once more. It is a miracle of the Gods that you are still living. It is a sobering thought, and one that has cost you much sleep, amongst the many others that plague you night and day.

But it is not only that. Your dreams, having become more violent and terrifying as a result of the growing carnage in the servant's quarters, have now taken an even more unsettling turn. Almost every night since your meeting with them, you have dreamed of the Emperors. They are not unpleasant dreams, and this is what worries you most.

Of deft hands trailing across your bare skin, low voices drawling enticing, sinful words in your ear. Of sharp teeth, tearing into your flesh, rivulets of blood cascading into eager mouths.

They leave you sweating and trembling in the dark. They should leave you filled with terror, yet they do not. You speak of them to no one.

It has not escaped your notice how close it is to the arrival of Dies Sanguinis - the Day of Blood. It should not matter; surely whatever monster that lurks within the Palace does not give care to festivities. But even so…It feels too much of an ill omen for you to ignore.

The preparations for the upcoming celebrations leave everyone so busy that it is difficult to think of anything beyond the task at hand. Even you are struggling to remain vigilant when you are constantly called back and forth from various parts of the Palace.

The warning you had passed to the Emperors has clearly gone unheeded, as instructions for preparation for a full feast are passed down to the kitchens early one morning. You, of course, held no illusions as to whether they cared about their servants, but you had thought that they would care enough about themselves to reconsider the usual display of imperial grandeur. You cannot shift the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, even as you are run entirely ragged with errands.

It had been an unusually warm day for so early in the year; closer to the hazy heat of summer. Even the evening air still holds a thickness to it, and you are struggling to keep up with everything you must do. You know it is not the wisest decision, but you need a moment to cool yourself, lest you faint and make yourself an even more enticing target for…whatever it is that roams as freely as it does.

You allow yourself a brief detour through the gardens. It is simply another route back to the kitchens, you convince yourself, and there are enough people enjoying the festivities within the Palace that you feel a little safer, should anything happen.

You stop for a moment at the stone fountain situated in the centre, cupping little handfuls of water to drop across the insides of your wrists. Immediately, you feel the cloying heat that has followed you for most of the day begin to lift.

You find yourself momentarily distracted by the relief of the fountain water, and it takes a moment before you realise that someone is speaking. You lift your head. There is no one there; rather it appears to come from behind the large columns that run along the outside of the Palace.

It is a familiar voice, but you cannot decipher what it is saying.

Another voice follows, higher in pitch. A woman, perhaps.

You still cannot understand, but if their tones tell you anything, it is not a conversation you should be eavesdropping on, you quickly realise with burning cheeks.

You move to continue on your way, to give them their privacy, when-

It is then that you hear it.

A sharp shriek, followed by a sickly snap and a dull thud. Your heart is quickly gripped by terror, and you frantically whip your head up to see if you can find where the petrifying din had come from.

There.

A shadow, a shapeless silhouette lurking behind the columns. The voice you had heard before?

You try to move, to make your escape, but you are so focused on avoiding the attention of the thing that lurks in the shadows that you are entirely unaware of what is now standing behind you.

"Well, well," comes a low voice, close to your ear. "I have never had such eager prey."

With a terrified yelp, you take off running, not thinking of where you could possibly go where you will not be found. Faces are little more than blurs as you pass; so caught up in the fear that threatens to throttle you that you do not think to stop and ask for help.

I cannot be found, is what you think to yourself over and over, as you keep running.

Eventually, the stitch growing ever greater in your side becomes impossible to ignore, and you run into a nearby room. Mercifully, it is empty. You close the door as quietly as you can, wincing as it creaks beneath your trembling hands. As soon as it is shut, you slump to the ground, desperate to catch your breath. It is painful, but gradually your breathing begins to settle.

You manage to stumble to your feet once more, in the hopes of finding something that would be of use as a weapon. It is a bedroom you have hidden yourself in, you realise with a sweeping glance, and one far grander than you are used to.

As you search for something, anything, to defend yourself with, you think back to what the voice in your ear had said in the gardens, replaying the words over and over. You know that voice, you are sure of it.

And what of the creature lurking in the shadows? Were there two of them?

You have to escape, return to the servant’s quarters, warn them-

You are so caught up in the tempestuous whirlwind of your own thoughts that you do not hear the door opening.

You do not hear the footsteps across the floor.

It is only when a hand, strong and cold, slides around your throat that you realise.

You are no longer alone.

Your fingers scrabble to release yourself from your captor’s hold, nails biting into skin.

A voice shushes you, almost mockingly.

“Come now, there is no need for that,” it murmurs, low and smooth.

“Do you realise how long it took for us to hunt you down?” asks another voice, rougher around the edges.

Fear grips you suddenly, and your eyes widen.

“Emperors?” you manage to gasp out.

The wicked cackle that echoes around the otherwise silent room is more than answer enough.

“She is wiser than we gave her credit for, I must admit,” Caracalla says, amused.

“Please- I-” you try again, your voice weak.

The hand around your throat squeezes, and you immediately fall silent.

“Hush,” Geta says softly, thumb stroking gently across your skin. “Save your strength. You will need it.”

He lets go of you then, and you stumble forward, your knees hitting the ground harshly. A hiss of pain escapes you, as you frantically turn yourself over to finally look the Emperors in the eye.

Geta is as calm and collected as ever, hands neatly folded in front of him. He looks down at you with an expression almost akin to pity.

“You were most kind to come and warn us as you did,” he says. “But your efforts, while laudable, were for naught.”

Caracalla crouches down in front of you, and you instinctively pull back, moving until your back hits the wall behind you with a soft thump.

“You need not have warned us of the “monsters” that lurk within the Palace,” he says, almost gleeful, “for they stand before you now.”

He grins, and your blood runs cold as your gaze drops to his mouth. Glinting in the low light of the lanterns are two elongated teeth, sharp as knives and equally as vicious-looking.

Fangs.

"What- What are you?" you manage to stammer out.

You feel as though you are about to choke on your heart. You have never felt terror like it.

"We are as the Gods made us," Geta replies.

The simplicity of his answer surprises you. That cannot be all there is.

Caracalla is still crouched in front of you, blue eyes eerie in how closely they watch your every movement. His gaze flicks from your face to your neck, over and over. It makes your skin crawl.

"You...are the ones responsible," you murmur. "For the...For the deaths."

Geta hums in response.

"When you are made as we are, there are certain rules that must be followed," he explains. "We cannot eat as we once did. So, other...arrangements must be made, shall we say."

Caracalla bares his teeth once more, as if to impress upon you the point Geta is making. It is not necessary.

"And now that you have seen us..."

Geta trails off for a moment, as if savouring his next words.

"...I am afraid that we cannot allow you to leave."

You shake your head vehemently.

"Please, I- I will not tell a soul," you beg. "I swear on my life. I will keep your secret until my dying breath. Who would even believe me?"

Geta tilts his head, dark eyes watching you closely, as if in appraisal.

"You misunderstand," he replies. "While there are certain loose ends that must be tied up, we are not entirely concerned as to who you might tell of this. No, it is more than that."

Caracalla leans closer to you still, shaky breaths passing his parted lips.

"It is you," he murmurs with an unsettling smile.

"When you came to us, to warn us," Geta says. "It was then that we realised. What we had been searching for."

"Where you had been hiding," Caracalla finishes.

"Me? What are you talking about?" you ask, brows knit together in confusion.

"The servant's quarters are small, and there are so very many of you," Caracalla replies, "I have had great difficulty in seeking you out."

Your head feels as though it is swimming. With each new piece of information they provide you, you find yourself understanding less and less.

"Why me?" you persist. "It does not make sense."

"Oh, but it does," Geta replies. "My brother and I have particular tastes, myself more so. We are Gods, we do not drink swill."

He smiles then. For the briefest moment, his face contorts into something beyond your worst nightmares. You quickly blink, and he is once again as handsome as he ever was. You cannot have imagined it, surely.

"You will be far sweeter than anything we have yet tasted, I can already assure it," Caracalla says, bringing your attention back to him.

He is much closer now; his cold breath ghosting across your skin. You cannot move, entirely trapped as you are.

Your pulse is thrumming beneath your skin. Erratic, convulsing. How the air feels just before Jupiter strikes the sky with his mighty ire. In this very moment, you are little more than a rabbit, cornered by a hungry wolf.

And Caracalla…

Caracalla is ravenous.

He moves then, with a swiftness you cannot possibly have anticipated. He presses close to you, his mouth not quite touching the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. You dare not move, for fear of what he might do. Trembling sighs escape him, sending shivers through you and leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

He is fighting for control. With what exactly, you cannot say, but he appears to be losing.

He breathes in; a long, shaky sound that leaves your blood running cold in your veins. In an instant, he rises, dragging you to your feet as well. His hands grip harshly at your arms.

“Caracalla,” comes Geta’s voice, low and commanding.

Warning.

He is closer than before, but no longer within your line of vision.

Caracalla snarls in response, a gust of breath beating against your skin, and you jolt in his hold. Your heart stammers, and his grip on you tightens.

“How long do you expect me to wait?” he demands. “Let me take-“

“No,” Geta interrupts harshly.

Fabric rustles against the marble floor as he draws closer still. Finally, you can see him. Your eyes meet, and the little safety you felt at his presence quickly wanes. His eyes are dark, almost black now; his gaze hypnotic in its intensity. You cannot bring yourself to look away.

He reaches out to you, taking your chin in his hand. His thumb gently strokes across your cheek, before dragging across your lower lip.

“You will wait,” he says lowly.

He is addressing his brother, yet his eyes never leave yours.

“Why should I?” Caracalla snaps in response.

He is close, so close to losing his temper, yet Geta's words still hold him in place.

“It will be all the sweeter for it, I assure you,” he replies.

A smile spreads across his face, exposing the sharp fangs that lurk within.

If it were not for Caracalla’s unnaturally strong grip on your arms holding you up, you would surely have fallen to your knees by now. Your pulse thrums beneath your skin so violently, it leaves you lightheaded.

“Perhaps we might…indulge her first?” Geta suggests, his gaze raking over you as he does so.

Caracalla draws back then, however reluctantly. His bright gaze roams across your face, sharp teeth biting at his lip.

He looks feral. No other word can possibly describe him better.

“Yes,” he replies thickly. “Yes, we…we should.”

You cast a glance between the two of them, hoping that perhaps they might explain themselves, as your mouth is so dry from fright that you are unsure if you can even form words.

Geta’s hand has not left you; his touch leaves your skin scorched.

“Tell me,” he begins, finally addressing you. “What thoughts have you had of us?”

Your eyes widen. He laughs then, as if he is mocking you.

“Do not pretend as if you are a Vestal,” he says. “There is no use in hiding it.”

You try to swallow, anything to make your mouth move-

“Did you know that each of us has a different gift?” Geta asks.

Each of us.

There are more of them.

“My brother has a sense of smell that could rival a shark’s,” he continues. “That is how we were able to find you in the first place.”

He leans in, his tongue licking at the corner of his mouth.

“And my gift…”

Caracalla lets out a giggle. He knows, of course he does.

“…is the ability to read thoughts.”

You feel your stomach drop at his words.

“So, I will ask you again,” he says lowly. “What thoughts have you had of us?”

He tilts his head.

“Or perhaps, you have had thoughts of only me,” he says with a smirk.

Caracalla snarls as he rounds his attention on Geta.

“Either way,” Geta continues, not even acknowledging his brother. “You may keep them to yourself. But I will know.”

You desperately try to keep your mind blank, but your thoughts betray you, and an image comes to you in a flash, unbidden. Of you, between the Emperors, undressed and entirely at their mercy. Of the dreams that have been haunting you, night after night.

Geta’s smile widens.

“My, my,” he murmurs. “What filth you keep locked away from us.”

Caracalla looks between the two of you, as impatient as he is frustrated.

“What thoughts does she have?” he demands. “Tell me.”

Geta shakes his head with a small smile.

“Surely you can sense it, even without my help,” he replies.

Caracalla pauses, before his mouth splits into a vicious-looking smile.

“Oh, little dove, you have certainly been hiding that, have you not?” he sing-songs giddily, as one of his hands dips under the hem of your tunica.

You instinctively squeeze your thighs together as Caracalla’s hand drifts up along your skin. You do not want this, you think to yourself over and over.

But you are lying.

And when you meet Geta’s gaze, his expression speaks volumes.

He knows.

“Do as we wish, and we will give you everything you desire,” Caracalla murmurs, fingers tracing little patterns against your skin.

You bite your lip in hesitation. Terrified. Curious.

Wanting.

“It will not hurt,” Geta adds. “It will be as if you are dreaming.”

You do not miss the emphasis he puts on his last word. Surely he cannot…?

You look between the two vicious wolves that stand before you. You do not trust them. But oh…

How you wish to give in.

“Then give in,” Geta murmurs in answer.

Before you can even process his words, Geta’s lips are against yours in a bruising kiss, as Caracalla finally pries your legs apart and claims what is his.

Having so much attention focused on you at once, it is an intoxicating feeling that leaves your head spinning. Your thoughts halt in their tracks, and you desperately fight to remember how to breathe. Caracalla’s fingers move against you in such a way that it forces a sharp gasp to escape you. Geta’s tongue licks into your mouth, coaxing out a barely stifled moan.

Caracalla’s patience quickly wears thin all too soon, and he pulls back. You cannot stop the little whine that escapes you at the sudden loss of his touch. Geta withdraws then too, nipping gently at your lower lip as he does so.

“I cannot endure this any longer,” Caracalla says, his voice high and strained. “I must have her.”

Geta nods, holding out a hand to you. Without a thought, you take it, allowing him to lead you across the room.

It is with ease that you go, and you cannot understand why. Geta's grip on your hand is light; it would yield easily should you pull away. But you cannot bring yourself to do it. Surely it is a madness that you have been afflicted with. You have lost all sense of reason in your terror.

But there is more, more that lurks beneath the surface. More that you cannot begin to understand.

"You are but human," Geta says, as if in answer. "You will always fall victim to your baser urges."

You cannot find the strength to argue with him, with any of it.

Geta climbs onto the bed, settling himself comfortably in the centre. He truly is the very picture of royalty, lounging against the plush pillows. He reaches out for you once more, as Caracalla's hands press against your shoulder blades, urging you forward. He need not bother, as your mind is so rapidly becoming lost in your growing desire.

You allow Geta to pull you up onto the bed with him, Caracalla mere millimetres behind you. The stark contrast in the two of them is astounding: Caracalla is hasty, impatient; whereas Geta looks as though he could not care less, legs spread in a languid manner and eyes half-lidded as he watches you.

Caracalla's hands fidget with the hem of your tunica as you sit on your knees in front of Geta. He is clearly restraining himself from what he truly wants, and you cannot help but wonder how much control Geta holds over him.

"Not as much as I would like, I assure you," he murmurs, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

Your eyes widen. How many times will you forget this ability of his?

Caracalla lets out a huff of impatience, harsh against the nape of your neck.

"Undress her," Geta instructs, resting his cheek in his hand. "And mind your manners."

Caracalla mutters something obscene under his breath that under normal circumstances would have made you laugh. But this...

This was far from normal.

Eager hands tug your tunica from you, and your shoes and undergarments are quick to follow.

Geta's gaze travels slowly along your body, now bare before him. He sucks in a small breath as he stops at your thighs. You try to clench them together, but it is too late. He has seen it. The evidence of your arousal.

Caracalla's hands slide around to your front to cup your breasts. You gasp at his touch, and a moan escapes him n response. He presses closer to you, and you can feel how hard he is against you. You have a suspicion that Geta may be faring no better, though you cannot see under the folds of his voluminous robes.

"It seems you have quite the high opinion of yourself," Geta says.

Warmth rushes to your face in embarrassment.

Caracalla squeezes you harshly, as if to bring your attention back to him.

"If you two are going to continue this little charade, then I will take what I want and have done with it," he spits in irritation.

You jolt as his lips press firmly against your neck, one hand trailing up to your hair to hold you in place.

"My apologies," Geta says coolly, though he does not look in the least bit sorry. "She is just so...talkative."

You cannot help but glare at him, and he laughs, a soft sound that makes your stomach flutter. Geta rises then, kneeling in front of you. His hands ghost lightly down along your sides, to the curve of your hips, thumbs pressing firmly into the skin there as he grips you.

"Will you take her, or shall I?" he asks.

The question is obviously meant for Caracalla, but his dark gaze is focused on you as he speaks, leaving you squirming in their collective hold.

"I will," Caracalla replies, eager in his haste to answer. "You have drawn this out long enough. I will have no more of it."

Geta lets go of you then, returning to where he had been sitting before. He takes your hands in his, as Caracalla releases his grip on you, and you all but tumble into his lap. He positions you as he pleases, as if you are little more than a puppet, spreading your legs over his. He is built thicker than you had realised, hidden under so much fabric as he is, and already you can feel the muscles in your legs begin to protest being stretched across his lap as you are.

Neither of them allow you much time to adjust. Geta's hand dips between your legs, dragging across your core, and you bite your lip hard to stifle the moan that is almost ripped from you. You are suddenly made very aware of how clothed the two of them are, and your cheeks burn in humiliation.

It is difficult to focus on it for long when Geta's fingers are moving as they are against you, back and forth, too lightly, too slowly. Already you can feel yourself growing impatient. How you wish they would take already.

Geta tilts his head as he looks up at you. His smile is downright dangerous.

"As you wish," he murmurs, and before you have time to comprehend his words, he presses two fingers into you.

Your mouth drops open involuntarily at the stretch of him. You feel so full, it aches, and yet it is not enough. Not nearly enough.

He draws back from you slightly, before pushing back in again. You feel your eyes roll back at his touch.

Geta gives you a knowing smile, but holds his tongue. He allows you a moment to adjust, for which you are grateful. Caracalla presses a hand over your breast, and he laughs breathlessly.

"Her heart is beating so fast," he murmurs, a tremble in his voice. "I do not know how much longer I can wait."

It is not long before Geta is pressing harder, deeper, again and again, until you are trembling in his lap. You can hear yourself, hear how obscene you sound; yet you can no longer bring yourself to feel shame, overwhelmed with pleasure as you are.

Not one to be easily forgotten, Caracalla presses a hand to your jaw to tilt your face towards him, and you go all too willingly. He kisses you, messy and vicious and everything you need in that moment. His other hand slips down your form, to rub tight little circles where you desperately need it most.

You gasp as your tongue drags over the point of one of Caracalla's fangs. Even retracted as they appear to be, they are sharp, and a brief feeling of terror blooms in you, before it is quickly lost once more.

“If it were not for him,” he murmurs as he breaks away, his gaze lingering on Geta momentarily in annoyance, “I would have torn you to pieces by now.”

Geta clicks his tongue. In spite of how he has you now, he is still able to appear as if he is completely in control.

“You have always been a glutton,” he replies tersely. “You must learn to savour your meals.”

Caracalla snarls in response, holding you closer to him as Geta presses into you, again and again.

They will surely ruin you. You do not know how much more of this you can take.

Geta's hand is on your jaw then, eyes swallowed black with desire.

"She draws close," he murmurs, his voice trembling as he finally begins to lose his composure.

If you had thought they were overwhelming before, you are sorely mistaken. Now they seek to devastate you, dragging you closer and closer to the edge of release you so desperately long for.

It is too much, all at once, and with a sharp cry, you feel that blinding, overwhelming, wonderful wave of ecstasy crash over you.

It is then that they strike. Caracalla is first, desperate in his need, his fangs plunging into your neck. You stiffen in pain, convulsing in his hold, before a soothing warmth envelops you, leaving you docile and dizzy, as if you have overindulged on sweet wine.

Your head lolls against Caracalla's shoulder as he continues to drink from you. Geta takes your wrist in his strong grip, and pliant as you are, you give no resistance. His tongue drags across your skin, across your fluttering pulse, and another sharp sting of pain follows, quickly dulled to a pleasant ache.

You are truly and utterly lost to pleasure; you cannot bring yourself to care if they do not stop. You would gladly let them take and take and take if it meant that you could stay in this dreamlike haze forever.

Time seems to slow, and your eyes feel heavy. It is too much to hold them open, and you wish to let sleep take you.

Rest now, you hear a voice command, as if from within your very thoughts.

You think no more of it, as sleep drags you under.

Voices seem to float around you. Faceless, bodiless. You cannot say where you are, or who you are. It is as if you are floating. It is not an unpleasant feeling.

“What shall we do with her now?”

It is Caracalla’s voice, you think, but it is hazy. As if he is cloaked in fog, somewhere far away.

A long stretch of silence passes, then-

“We shall keep her,” another voice replies - Geta, perhaps. “She is of far greater use to us alive.”

The voices fall silent once more. Another long moment passes, before you are once again lured away by the siren song of sleep.

Taglist 💖: @glassbxttless @lover-rep-fanfic @punkrockmlchael @x-vadon @dubiousmetamorphosis

(banners by @ cafekitsune)

[quarterlifekitty]

Thinking about vampire!Soap showing up to the den with you—a weak, freshly turned fledgling, clinging to his jacket and hiding behind him.

He gets scolded. Probably punished. They’re not allowed to turn people without express permission from Price to do so, and he’s gone and disobeyed. He couldn’t help himself, he says— saw you wandering the beach alone and knew you needed a forever home. That you’d make a beautiful creature of the night. that his coven would adore you— just look at that face— red tint soaking into your irises, little baby fangs pressing against your bottom lip as you bite it nervously, a few drops of Johnny’s blood still smeared at the corners of your mouth.

By all accounts, they should kill you and start him on some sort of punishment for the next decade. That tends to be how it goes when a vampire tries to undermine the sire of the coven.

But he was right. You are a cute little thing. Already settled onto Nikolai’s lap while they’re deciding if you should live or die. You’re a little too hazy from dying to really follow the conversation in any meaningful way. You’re tired and blood-hungry, your eyelids fluttering as you get bounced on his knee.

Which Price does not appreciate, by the way. This was supposed to be a serious discussion, condemning Soap for his mistake, not coddling it.

[moon-mage]

I finally let myself work on something without obsessing over every wrong detail and caring so much about how I’m not as perfect and productive as everyone else around me :0 This was insanely therapeutic for I have not went so hard on a piece in a hot minute. Especially with this hard ink/soft coloring combo I used to do all the time…

Yes this AU has made a comeback in my brain because when am I not ever obsessed with vampire themes? And it just got more expansive and dramatic. I'm working on writing out like…some bulletpoints and stuff for the world for I did take some themes from BTVS but nothing major that you’d have to know the show to understand.

Also yeah, Jamil GLOWS UP in this despite me seemingly having a thing for making him struggle and suffer like all the time. All he needed was some hot vampire boyfriends to encourage him to be the baddest motherfucker ever and it worked. Yippie! :D

Anyway here’s what I got for these three so far under the cut~ I added Kalim and Rook too since they are main characters...just didnt get around to drawing them yet hehe.

Jamil Viper - Chosen vampire slayer from the Scalding Sands, Jamil was raised in preparation to fulfill his prophecy of becoming one of the most powerful Slayers to have ever lived. By that meaning, being a pawn for both the powerful witch coven of the Al-Asims and watchmen council who 'advises' the slayers. Jamil's unique power makes him damn near perfect to fight vampires for he can resist the thrall and even manipulate the minds and wills of lesser vampires. Jamil has an incredible self-awareness wants to break free of his chains but isn't sure the cost is worth it…until he runs into two powerful vampires who change his world forever.

Leona Kingscholar - Former prince of Sunset Savana and younger brother of the most cherished Slayer in history, Falena Kingscholar. Leona has a reputation of being one of the most dangerous vampires out there…that carries from his reputation from his human life. When Leona was human, he was one of the most powerful hunters out there. Unafraid to tackle any horrors in the dark which consequentiality made him feared by his own people. Rumor has it, Leona's turning was orchestrated by the Watchmen Council because of Falena's refusal to comply with them. That's why people guess he actively works against the council and their followers.

Vil Schoenheit - Vil was destined to become one of the greatest witches of his time. He started his own coven at the age of 18 which brought in a loyal following. Vil was outspoken about his work with darker and tabooer magics…which had more people seeking him out especially because he was significantly less predatory than the "trusted" Al-Asims. It was revealed upon Leona Kingscholar's turning that Vil had the ability to soothe and control a newborn vampire's innate madness. Sadly, not too long after that news spread…Vil's entire coven was slaughtered, leaving him the only survivor. Leona Kingscholar had found Vil and claimed he was already turned when he found him…no one is sure if that's entirely correct.

Kalim Al-Asim - Kalim is the successor of the archmage title of the Al-Asim family, a very prominent and influential family of witches. This is very controversial in the family because Kalim is predominately a light mage, a lot of his magic is restoration and healing which is seen as a sign of weakness by those who work in the business of eradicating the creatures of the night. Kalim has spent most of his life just going with it, not entirely sure of the dangers and horrors he was expected to face someday…and whenever he tried to ask, he was silenced or yelled at. Deep down he feels something isn't right…and it becomes more obvious when he finally starts to experience and understand Jamil's struggles. He wants to fight for the right cause but he isn't sure how without dire consequences to both himself and Jamil.

Rook Hunt - Rook is from the Hunt family, a mysterious and shady family of vampire hunters who rose to power after the dramatic fall of the Rosehearts family. The Hunt family are the Watchmen Council's most trusted hunters and Rook has been chosen to advise the Slayer and his Mage… to make sure they stay on the "right path". Rook has had his own agenda for years low key. He is all too aware of the corruption the Watchmen council bring and first hand and lost his first love due to their cruelty and negligence. He vows to seek vengeance for the beauty taken from this world at the hands of the watchmen council…and he hopes to guide the gorgeous slayer and his luminous mage into the safety of the darkness with the two beautiful vampires he swore his allegiance to.

Clarification: Leona and Vil are significantly older than Jamil but got turned in their early 20's...and they knew each other when they were alive and were even childhood...uh friends? Rivals? Annoyances? I'll elaborate more on that another time uwu

OLDER STUFF OF THIS AU

Here’s also the not textured/glowy eyed version

[fridgrave2-0]

the vampire and his servant who's too eager to feed his master