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leonardalphachurch · 3 months ago

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GOOGLE SEARCH: HOW TO TALK TO OTHER DADS REDDIT

Lavernius Tucker and Oliver "North" Dakota are two single fathers forced to brave their most difficult challenge as a dad yet: making small talk with other parents. Not many survive this harrowing ordeal, but the bonds forged through this traumatic experience create lifelong friendships. Or, perhaps, even something more...?

A modern single dads Tucker/North AU written for @rvbrarepairweekdos Day 3: AUs. Warnings for discussions of sex/masturbation, but no actual sexual content.

I don't know why I wrote this, either. I don't even ship this. I suppose the wheel compelled me...

Also avaliable to read on Ao3.

***

“Sooo, uh, what do you… do with your time?"

“Oh, I’m a pediatric dentist.”

“No, I know that, I meant, uh,” This sucked. Tucker had zero things in common with these parents at this School for Gifted Children that had scouted Junior earlier this year. Most of them barely gave him the time of day, but this guy, Oliver Dakota, was insistent on staying the entire time his kid was hung out with Junior. After multiple false starts, Tucker shamefully ducked away for a second to look up ‘HOW TO TALK TO OTHER DADS REDDIT’ and found, “I meant, what do you do with your free time?”

“Oh,” North smiled warmly at the other man, then looked back to the door to Junior’s room. Left open a crack— he would have preferred it to be open all the way, but Lavernius had insisted the kids be given privacy. He seemed like a genuine and nice man, if a little awkward. North appreciated him and Theta being allowed into his home. Still, he wasn’t that interested in talking; compromising on the door meant he needed to keep a closer ear out for if Theta needed him. “I don’t really have much free time. With a kid and work, it’s like two full time jobs. But it’s all worth it for Theta.”

“Right.” God, this guy was giving Tucker nothing. Every single topic went back to Theta. And Tucker loved his kid, but being a single dad meant so much of his life was already dedicated to him. If he was talking to another adult he at least wanted to talk about something adult for once. “You gotta do something with your time, though. You into sports?”

“Haven’t really kept up with any lately. Theta was on the soccer team when they were younger, but we’ve decided to focus on academics in middle school.”

“Okay… Watched any good TV lately?”

“I mostly just catch snippets of whatever cartoon Theta has on.”

“……..Do you play games?”

“Oh, Theta had me join them in playing a little farm game— what’s it called, star, starting… ‘Starting Farming?’ No, no, it’s definitely ‘star’… ‘Starry Farmy?’”

“Stardew Valley?”

“That’s it! Do you play it? It’s very cute.”

“Yeah, uh, not, really my type of game. What about stuff you do without your kid?”

“Ah,” That was kind of a strange question. Most conversations North had with other parents were all about their kids— mostly trying to constantly one up the other’s accomplishments. To ask about things that he did without Theta? Why did he even care about that? “Well, I read alone?"

“Awesome! What are you reading?” Tucker didn’t give a shit about books, but he would grasp onto literally anything this dude was offering.

“Mostly child psychology books. Though lately it’s been a lot YA novels. I try to read things Theta is interested before they do so we can have discussions about them. And to make sure there’s nothing too inappropriate for their age.”

Tucker was stunned. This guy could not be serious. Was everything about his kid? “Don’t you do things with your friends?”

“Ahh,” North’s smile got a little tighter. “We had to move away from my hometown a few years ago; the schools there weren’t great for Theta, and then they got accepted here…”

“You haven’t had friends for years?”

“I have friends.” North was taken aback. What kind of person asked something like that so bluntly?

“But you don’t spend time with them.”

“I… see them often enough. When I visit home. For the holidays.” North didn’t know why he felt so defensive over this.

“Do you…” Tucker hesitated, not wanting to overstep with a guy he barely knew but also fucking floored at what this dude’s life seemed to be, “do anything for yourself that isn’t about your kid?”

North balked. “Of course I do! And, the- this question is flawed. Taking care of Theta is something I do for myself.”

“You can’t just only live for your kid, dude. There’s shit you gotta do without them.”

North twitched a little at the swear word. “There’s nothing I want to do that I would need to exclude Theta from.”

“What about sex?”

“SHHHHH!!” North panickedly looked over at the door, “Lower your voice if you’re talking about that!” He half yelled, half whispered.

“Dude. Does your kid not know about sex yet??” Tucker asked, not lowering his voice even slightly.

“Of course Theta knows what sex is!” North said, still whispering. “Teaching age appropriate sex education is incredibly important to a child’s understanding of their own body and safety. Theta knows exactly what leading child psychologists recommended an 11 year old knowing.”

“Okay.” Jesus Christ. This dude needed help bad.

North frowned. He could feel the judgement coming from Lavernius. Other parents always thought they could butt into situations that didn’t concern them. “I do not need your input on how I take care of my child.”

“I don’t care about how you take care of your kid, man, I care about how you take care of your you.”

“What?” North had no idea what he meant by that.

“Have you had sex a single time since Theta was born?”

“What?!” Seriously, how could he just ask something like that?

“You know what, not even sex. When was the last time you jerked off? Please tell me you’ve had an orgasm in the past decade.”

“This- this is a highly inappropriate conversation to be having with our kids in the other room” North had no idea how they ended up here, but he desperately wanted to move on.

“Not even once?”

“I don’t want Theta to overhear this conversation.”

“They’re playing a game, they’re not gonna hear, trust me. Kids don’t listen to their parents talking even when you want them to, they don’t give a shit what adults say to each other.”

“Theta listens to me.”

“Uh huh.” They needed to move away from the topic of their kids. Tucker needed to help this man. “Listen to me, man. I need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

Tucker grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. Or at least, he tried to. God, this man was way too fucking tall. And actually looking into his eyes— Jesus, they were piercing. Tucker didn’t think this kind of blond hair blue-eyed motherfucker actually existed. Terrifying.

“Tonight, when you go home, once you do whatever weird nighttime ritual you do to put Theta to bed,” Oliver started to make a noise in disagreement but Tucker pushed past it, “I need you to go to your room. I need you to be alone. I need you to get comfortable. And I need you to jack off.”

North had no fucking idea how to respond to that.

“Trust me. I have a friend, his girlfriend died, right? And for like a year afterwards he was so fucking miserable. Until one day I was like, ‘You NEED to blow off some steam, if you know what I mean. Bow chicka bow wow.’ Next day he was like a new man.”

“I don’t. know.“ North thought there were probably some other reasons his friend may have been miserable, there.

“I know, you’ve been out of the game, you don’t know how to find good porn. I got you, I’ll send you some.”

“I wasn’t—“

“I got you.” Tucker was already pulling out his phone, thinking of some good beginner porn he could send Oli’s way. “What are you into? You seem kinda vanilla but sometimes vanilla looking chicks are into the weirdest shit, y’know?”

“That’s— I don’t— this isn’t— I’m. Gay.” That wasn’t really something North tended to share with other parents, but they were so far outside of the kinds of conversations he tended to have anyway, any normal ways to respond had completely left his brain.

“You’re—” Tucker looked him up and down. Huh. Maybe he should’ve been able to guess that. “Uh. That’s fine. I have gay shit I can send you.”

“You have gay shit.” Right. Okay. North was pretty sure he just swore for the first time in years. What the fuck was happening?

“Yeah, y’know, I’m… uh, it doesn’t matter what I am. But I can get whatever you want.”

“Okay.” Okay. North’s brain was starting to catch up to where they were. Was Lavernius… flirting with him? Was this what flirting was now? He was so lost.

He should probably set a boundary.

“I… do not want you to send me porn.”

“Okay,” Tucker said, putting his phone back in his pocket. “You got it handled yourself?”

“Yes, I,” North let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, “I can handle myself.”

“Good. ‘Cause the shit you were saying before was sad, man. I know we barely know each other but, c’mon, single dads gotta have each others backs, right?”

“Yeah, um. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Tucker smiled at him.

North liked his smile.

(continued in reblogs)

#red vs blue #rvb rarepair week dos #lavernius tucker #agent north dakota #tucknorth #I FUCKING. GUESS???#rvb rarepair week 2024 #theres a second chapter to this im gonna add in a reblog in a second. just ftr.#i dont know. i dont know.#why did i write tucknorth and not churchnorth. yknow. the ship that has literally taken over my mind.#i could not tell you #(actually its just bc i had an idea for a short oneshot whereas with churchnorth i have ideas for way way longer shit lol)#(cursed by caring too much about it. cursed by wanting to put in more effort.)

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glassrowboat · 4 months ago

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Vampire hunter AU (1/4)

Chapter 2 here

Summary: Having everything taken from him, there was only one path left to pursue: revenge.

He would follow that path until the end, Diluc promised himself the need to see a head of blue hair separate from its body all consuming, even as he stumbled. His limbs tried to tell him he couldn't go on, not even as he trekked through a forest path trying to put space between the vampire who had left his shoulder dislocated and body bruised as he followed a lone light up ahead- safety, maybe, or his undoing.

Right now, it didn't matter, for there was a path left to pursue, and he would keep marching on until dawn.

Warnings: Blood, gore, character death, divergence from canon

“Well, this just won't do.”

The voice came somewhere above him. They were chiding him, but their words were muffled through the buzzing filling Diluc's ears. At first he could have sworn it was the never ending scream of cicadas as their wings ruffle with every fluttering leaf of the trees they're hiding in, but the wet trail sliding down from his forehead and to the ground as droplets of red fall from his earlobe he was quickly corrected.

Again, the voice spoke, trying to convey something to him. He failed to make it out over his own pained groans.

Whoever this was didn't sound like a Good Samaritan, not with their obvious annoyance at his existence, as once again, he could hear them trying to shout.

The ground right next to his head was stomped on, maybe by this stranger, to signal someone was moving next to him.

Curiously, a pair of eyes peeked down at the battered and bruised body.

Another step was taken, and some animal- clearly not the person- came right up to him and started sniffing around. Whiskers poked at his skin when it nudged Diluc's head, forcing him to turn it to the side and press his cheek to the grass he had crushed when he tumbled down in a useless heap.

It gave the liquid in his ear a chance to pop.

Actually, he was able to hear every sound that filled the forest around him along with that same person scrutinizing him, now distinguished as a female, he could hear her talking. “Yes, he's bleeding. Maybe if you had alerted me sooner, you damn dog, there would be less blood on my front lawn.”

Said dog barked.

“But he clashes with the decor!”

Another bark.

Whatever was going on made Diluc just want to roll over and accept the haze, coaxing him into accepting the lingering tug at the back of his mind to simply fall asleep. At least that would be easier than trying to figure out a conversation this person seemed to be having with a barking dog.

A few seconds, or maybe even minutes, passed before the woman startled Diluc back awake with a huffed out “Fine.”

Clothes ruffled as a shadow passed over him just as a raven cawed in the distance. It was shrill, but like an alarm clock it forced Diluc to open his eyes for just a moment, like he was hoping to find the thing so he could reach over and smack it until the sound turned off. They took a moment to adjust, but that moment barely helped as his vision was blurry regardless; no doubt from the harsh hit he had received at the back of his head.

The one relief Diluc had was his ability to make out the purple fabric of a skirt covered in pleats and lace hanging from a figure who was slowly moving away from him.

So, you were leaving him to die a slow, painful death.

So much for finding some help.

Diluc shifted, all his energy going into trying to sit up with his one good arm to prop him up so he could say- well, he wasn't sure. A good riddance, maybe, or a plea for you to save him. Both options danced on his tongue as you looked back at him.

Maybe you were considering leaving him out here to become food for the birds and the maggots.

“But if you want me to help him, you have to carry him inside.”

Still, you were either talking to someone he couldn't see or the dog, but it hardly mattered when Diluc was trying to ignore the sharp pain in his shoulder begging him to lay back down, but he didn't even have the chance to try as the dog seemed to-

He had to be going crazy. Or he had a concussion. There had to be some explanation as to how the fluffy black and white creature with pale blue who only a moment ago had one of its ears up and the other lazily flopped against its head seemed to transform into something else vaguely human and with what could only be called a smirk.

On a dog.

What was it he heard about injury induced hallucinations?

“And he's staying on your cot.” You stated, making it clear there was no room for arguing with your firm tone.

“Stuck with the consequences of my own actions.” Someone said with a chuckle, right before a pair of hands slipped into the crook of Diluc’s armpits and hoisted him up.

The movement jostled him, leaving Diluc's head spinning with pain and nauseousness as the black edges of his vision started to close in again, leaving it spotted and hazy.

With a fluttering of his eyelashes, Diluc caught sight of a beautiful woman holding a painted door, just like the color of your expansive skirts, open for him as you invited him into your home.

Then everything turned black.

By the time the two men had come into your home, one with his feet being dragged across the ground as one boot slipped off as it got caught on a loose floorboard sticking out, you were already holding a bucket full of warm, soapy water with your sleeves rolled up as high as they could go. It sloshed as you set it down, almost getting the blanket hanging off the unmade cot wet with a few droplets. It's not like it would bother someone who's passed out, but you moved the bucket slightly to the right regardless.

“You don't look too pleased about having to take care of this guy.” Your familiar said with amusement clear in his tone even when he groaned at the relieving loss of weight on his arms as he set the bloodied stranger down.

The cot creaked as it welcomed the stranger into its feather stuffed mattress.

“I'm not in the mood for your comments, you mangy mutt.” Taking the washcloth you had tossed into the water earlier, you picked it up and started wringing it out.

“And to think I used to be called ‘Your Grace’.” Trying to lean back against one of the many tables covered in all sorts of jars full of animal organs, knick knacks, and a forgotten plate of sugary pastries as he spoke, it skidded over the floor.

Immediately, your familiar shot back up again with a sheepish grin.

You clicked your tongue. “Well, Your Grace, I need you to go prepare some things for our guest. The usual bundle.”

“Including my clothes? I hate having another man's junk in my pants.”

“Get over it.” Plus, you were lacking other options unless you both wanted to try and stuff this bloodied stranger into a corset.

“Oh, and before I forget-”

He was already halfway up the stairs when you called out to him, trying to get his attention long enough to remind the dog to add a bar of soap for you. There will be a need to restock, then, but the village was only a mile walk from here.

Cutting you off he said: “I know what I'm doing.”

With one last step up those old stairs, you couldn't see him anymore, leaving you with only the man at your side.

He stirred slightly, but didn't wake.

“It's been a few decades since we've had a visitor, but that mutt is as sure of the procedure for this as always.”

You wanted to blame it on his self assuredness, as always, even when you knew it was simply because he had a heart far too large for his own body and an overwhelming need to help passing strays.

Unfortunately.

“Well, it's just you and I then, mister.”

Looking down at the redhead, you took in each cut, each gash in need of treatment and a little TLC as your eyes trailed over his wounded body. He's a toned yet lean man, had those calluses on his hands your familiar pointed out when dragging the guy in implying he at least knew a bit of swordsmanship, and had hints of cute little freckles spotting his nose; surely with a bit of much needed sun they'd stand out even further.

Reaching his round cheeks, your scrutinizing eye was stopped short. He was young, to the point he still bore a baby face, but had faced something aiming to hurt - if not kill him - regardless.

The attempt on his life surely caused his tight expression, even in sleep.

Truly, he should be getting married to some pretty young woman and living the life of any perfect couple instead of laying here in your home practically five steps away from deaths door.

The redhead muttered, whispering broken utterances that had you reevaluating if he actually was knocked out. Your fingers were already reaching out for a bottle of a homemade sleeping brew when you realized he was simply taking in his sleep.

“Okay, correction: maybe your dreams are with us too.”

Pulling his shirt up to reach the first gash, tearing this stranger's flesh in two, your washcloth - more like a spare rag- met his flesh. You tried not to pay attention to the fact you're wearing one of your nicer dresses as his blood seeped into the cloth and painted your nails red.

As you worked, cleaning him up and stitching the deeper cuts you caught the words vampire, Kaeya, father, and much more as he kept talking and talking with a hand reaching up, almost instinctively, to something hidden under his ruined shirt causing metal object to shine through the ripped bits of fabric.

“Now what is this?” You asked as you watched the redhead continue to toss and turn with a badge clutched to his wildly beating heart.

The sky was overcast, leaving the ground below a greenish gray as the once vibrant grass swayed with the howling winds around him. It whipped at anything within reach. His hair, the tail coats of his jacket, and the pierced skin of Crepus’ flesh right when a pair of sharp fangs pulled out of him.

Blood covered his father's neck, dripping down until it slid into the confines of his clothes.

Shortly after the fabric turned red.

Just like the color of the eyes watching him.

Diluc screamed, but the wind carried it away and towards the path he had been traversing only minutes prior in a carriage, now broken and trampled upon, as Crepus said “Good job. Now, that's my son.”

It was praise for becoming a Paladin in service of the church after all his hard work finally came to fruition. Now, the words felt hollow.

“Is there really a need for the yelling?”

Across from Diluc, Crepus' limp body dropped to the ground as the blue haired creature let him slip from its grasp. The scowl it was wearing as it spoke only showed off its pointed fangs further.

“You!” Diluc exclaimed before charging forward.

His boot hit the ground as Diluc charged forward, barely missing the handle of his once trusty claymore by an inch. He had spent years with it by his side, memorizing both its leathery grip and weight, but he was tumbling to the ground with an empty hand because he missed its hilt.

Quickly, he got up again as the creature called him pathetic.

With the claymore behind him and his unwillingness to let this thing out of his sight Diluc picked up the odd gold and red item embedded into a glove his father had been wielding when he tried to take the creature on himself. For a moment, he could have sworn it winked at him, drawing his attention to the strange mark on its face matching the one on the creature's mask; a perfect copy down to the last dot.

Without the time to stop and contemplate why his father had an item clearly tied to the very thing that killed him, Diluc pulled the glove on.

The minty blue haired man flicked his hand to rid it of the blood he had stolen from Crepus. Like his father meant nothing at all more than a quick snack.

The realization had Diluc's teeth grinding together as his festering anger flared.

A chain burst forth.

Under Diluc's behest, it moved, darting towards the man- or what could only be called a vampire with how it feeds on the ichor of life. Like an eagle, the chain seemed to soar, metal flying across the field they stood in and darted towards its prey with a pointed beak.

It was dodged with ease. Diluc didn't even so much as tear the vampire’s white jacket.

At that realization he tried to call another.

Iron clashed against something he couldn't make out properly, with the vampire’s speed causing sparks to kick up in the air.

If Diluc could overwhelm him.

More chains would help.

They could-

Just as another chain was called from the abyss, Diluc stumbled. His body fell against the wrecked carriage, hitting it on the same side one of the wheels had been torn from its axle during the chaos. Around it lay broken crates with everything they had been storing before now strewn across the ground.

If he could just do more.

More, more, more.

Diluc's hand rose, even through the pain trying to crawl up his spine in an attempt to still his actions. Diluc summoned another chain before he fell to the ground once again.

A cry was heard shouting out the word no. It came out strangled, choked, but Diluc would recognize his father's voice no matter how warbled it may be. The realization Crepus was still alive had the long rope of metal falling away, disappearing as quickly as it came; into nothingness.

“Father?”

Immediately, Diluc turned to look over at him, soaking in the sight of Crepus propped up against a lone tree and trying to hold a hand over his wound. With each passing second Crepus’ arm seemed to be getting weaker, slipping from the bite mark even as he tried to stem the bleeding. Surely, if he delayed too long, it would drop and never move again.

“Tch. Is that the best you can do?”

Stepping over him, the creature pressed a single white shoe over Diluc's hand. He tensed, waiting for the bones to be crushed, but nothing happened.

“You and that fool both had a chance to wound me using what has to be a stolen Evil Eye, but you both ended up being nothing more than disappointments. What a waste of time.”

The blue haired man stared down at him for a moment, eyes narrowed behind his mask, before he lifted his foot and walked away saying “I have better things to be doing than this.”

The last thing Diluc saw of him was the collar of his jacket being straightened.

The vampire could leave both Diluc and his father behind without a second thought while he was stuck there, barely able to gather the strength to stand so he could stumbled over to Crepus.

Diluc's knees hit the ground beneath him, barely registering the way the ground under him was wet despite the lack of a downpour and grabbed Crepus’ shoulders. A single shake didn't seem to stir him. Another only earned him a hanging head tilting to the side with a low groan.

“I'm right here. Please, just-” Shaking Crepus wasn't doing anything besides hiding the trembling of his own hands as Diluc gripped his father harder, refusing to let go as he moved to take over the job his father had been trying to handle.

“Master Crepus?”

Diluc stilled at the new voice, right before Kaeya, his brother, stepped into view. His dark head of blue hair fit the dreary skies well, blending in almost perfectly. In happier moments, he had mocked him for the mullet he was growing, but that joy seemed fainter than the cathedral’s bells ringing as you walked into Mondstadt's front gates.

“He- we-” Diluc shook his head as his explanation came short. Too much happened too fast, and he was still trying to process that on top of trying to keep pressure on his father's wounds to no avail. “We need bandages. The convoy I was escorting doesn't have any medical supplies.”

It wouldn't matter if there was, anyway, not when everything had been destroyed.

“Diluc, he's….”

Kaeya didn't finish his sentence- couldn't- but there was no need to when they both knew what he was going to say.

Diluc wanted to shout that no, his father would make it, despite the obvious truth: all the man could muster as he slowly fades from this world was a twitch of his fingers.

A slow painful death awaited him.

Or…

With a shuddering breath, Diluc pulled his hand from his father and grabbed the knife tucked inside his belt.

A sudden drop of rain came down, splattering on the blade as it plunged into his father's chest, giving him the mercy that the vampire refused to afford.

All as Kaeya watched Diluc cry under a rainless sky.

His own startled gasp was sucked in on instinct, silenced, as Diluc realized he wasn't where he last fell asleep. Even if the place he chose to rest was the dirt.

Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to pay attention to his immediate surroundings, but all Diluc could make out was that something was bubbling, forcing him to dare chance a peek at where he was.

Whatever it was popped and sounded like boiling stew as the air trapped inside the swirling liquid rose to the surface, leaving the space around him, smelling of herbs. Diluc couldn't recognize all of them, but he did pick up traces of citrus, ginger root, and rosemary as he came face to face with a giant cauldron right next to his head. So close he could have sworn that had he moved at all during his slumber Diluc’s long hair would have slipped into the fire blazing under the black pot and lost some strands to the flame.

The realization had him pulling away, even as he tensed in expectation of feeling the pain that had been festering under his skin only to find it now soothed. It was still present, but dull compared to the sharp sting it had once been.

“Oh! Look at that, I think our sleeping beauty is awake.”

The same voice- the same woman- spoke, drawing his attention. This time, your figure wasn't warped by his pained delirium, but by the steam climbing up from the odd mix of what he could only hope was a stew and into the cobweb covered rafters above. Hanging from them were bottles of all shapes, sizes, and colors filling the room with rainbows casting over every open surface with the light streaming in and catching on the glass. It tinted your head with hints of pinks and blues all the way down to the wrinkled frock you were wearing over your dress.

Diluc tried to croak out a thank you for bringing him inside and lending him the lumpy cot he was currently resting in only for his attempt at gratefulness to come out choked; broken.

You whispered a small “One second” and the stirring of the pot ceased, and the giant wooden spoon you had been using fell to the side of the cauldron's rim with a dull thud. “You were out for a few days, so you're going to need something to drink before you try talking again.”

Your statement caused Diluc to lick over his lips only for him to find them chapped and dry. No doubt they were bloody too, but it was hard to tell when all he could currently taste was iron.

“There's tea besides you, the finest brew I have thanks to someone's insistence.” Your finger pointed to a spot right next to him, causing Diluc to follow where you were directing him to find a small tea set. It was chipped in places, but the pot was waiting to have the contents inside be sipped at. Next to it was his Evil Eye, along with a few tools of his trade set aside in a neat row and shined despite being covered in dirt the last time he used them.

Counting the items in his head, Diluc looked over them only to find one was missing. His mask should have been….Looking around, he found it on the floor next to a bucket of pure red.

“And don't worry about not being able to pick it up. We fixed your dislocated shoulder while you slept. It's so much easier doing it that way. Means I don't have to worry about you tensing up and making your arm worse in the process.”

With the nagging feeling Diluc was supposed to know who you were talking about in your reference to this ‘we’ he picked up the teapot. For a moment, Diluc let himself feel its weight in his hold, testing how his shoulder was doing, and then filled the cup. With narrowed eyes, he watched the liquid amber stream full of small herb tufts he couldn't recognize fall from the spout.

There was no point in you poisoning him after saving him and he was always taught it's rude to deny a gesture of hospitality, but he still couldn't help but eye the flakes of green leaves as they floated around in circles until finally going still.

Only then did Diluc dare to drink.

“So?” You asked, just waiting for him to finally say something after having to fret over a useless lump of man in your home.

“Thank you.” Diluc said, this time without the struggle to get the words out, no matter how much trepidation was weighing down his tone.

“Thank me?” Laughing at him, you shook your head. “No, no, thank the dog.”

Over the rim of his teacup, right through the small split in the porcelain, Diluc’s eyes landed on the…well, he couldn't tell what breed it was besides the fact it was big with white and black fur, and left him feeling slightly uneasy. “Thank him?”

“Well duh!” You exclaimed, hands going up in the air only to quickly go back to your spoon to start stirring the contents of the cauldron again with a muttered string of nope, nope, nope’s.

Clearly, he had distracted you from your task.

“He's a good buddy of mine. An old pal, a compatriot, a comrade. Pick whichever phrase suits you best.”

“They do say a dog is a man's best friend.”

Diluc himself had always prefered owls.

“Though,” you said, right as Diluc was taking another gulp of tea to soothe his throat, “you think for a vampire hunter, you would recognize a hellhound when you see one. Apparently, those aren't important enough to be in Supernatural 101.”

Diluc’s fingers twitched, closing around the handle of the cup that was already precariously attached to it as he repeated the words “vampire hunter" questioningly.

“Don't play coy.” You immediately chastised, clearly not buying his attempt to act dumb. “I saw your hunters badge on your clothes as I was cleaning you up. Maybe you shouldn't wear it in a spot just anyone could see if they're trying to clean a wound or two.”

His ears burned, leaving Diluc thinking his hair did catch a stray ember from the sizzling firewood as his hand shot up to find that distinct metal badge pressed against him. It was broken from his earlier fight but still held fast to his clothing. Clearly, you didn't deem it fit to take in your cleaning.

He wasn't sure what he would have done if you did.

“Most people aren't looking under my shirt to spot it.” Diluc grumbled. “But I'll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“So you got attacked by a vampire, right?” You pointed the spoon at him, droplets of what you had been stirring falling from the wooden end and back into the mixture. “I mean with your wounds- it's just- I think next time you should let the church handle your pest problem instead of trying to do it yourself. You're clearly new to this line of work.”

“Out of the question.” Diluc's cup clinked as he placed it back down on its mismatched saucer. “I don't need help from that group. They're inefficient at best, weak and conservative at worst.”

“Not a fan of them, I take it?”

“We have different views, is all.”

With a roll of your eyes, you said: “Oh great, this one is prideful as well as mangled.”

The dog- or hellhound- barked, and you laughed in response. Clearly, he was missing something here, but if you were what he thought you were, then you could talk to your good buddy even in this form.

“You must be a witch then?”

“What gives it away? The shapeshifting mutt or the potion brewing.”

“Both, actually, and more.”

It was everything, really. The living in the middle of a forest rumored to be cursed without seemingly any issue certainly didn't hurt, neither did the few glimpses he caught of the outside of your cottage smack dab in the middle of a clearing with floating lights about, dragging a strange man into your house and not even tying them down to ensure your safety (he would of in your shoes, but he's grateful you didn't bother), or the transforming dog. It all stacked up one on top of each other to fill out a giant puzzle picturing one very simple image, even with some pieces still missing.

“Why aren't you living with your coven then if you're a witch?” Diluc asked.

“So you know that at least, huh? But the only coven within miles is the Hexenzirkel and we're-” you paused. “Let's just say I prefer being here.”

Diluc's brow rose as you avoided his question, only causing the unease he was trying to not outwardly show to become more prominent. Ignoring that nagging feeling, Diluc's mouth worked before his mind. “Forgive me, I have yet to meet a witch before now, but aren't you supposed to look different?”

“Oh you're new new to this.” The contents of the cauldron rippled as you dropped the spoon to stir the contents of the cauldron again. “Look, hunter, do you see a face covered in moles before you? And I can assure you that not a single part of me is green.”

You scoffed.

“Honestly you need to stop listening to local gossip so much. People just like to talk, and when they don't have anything to talk about, they make things up.”

“Again, my apologies.” Diluc mumbled, having half a mind to pick the teacup up again so he could occupy himself with taking another sip instead of fumbling over his own words.

“Simply be mindful. Besides that, do you have any other questions for me?”

“I do.”

“Later then, mister. I'm not going to answer you like this, not when you are so clearly in need of a bath. You reek worse than the dog.”

You clearly ignored the hellhound looking up at you as you continued to work, eyes stubbornly set away from his pointed stare.

“Now, the bath is upstairs, the second door on the right, and there's already some clothes and a towel for you.”

“But-” He didn't even know your name despite the fact you surely saved him from making your front lawn his death bed.

“And introductions can wait later.”

Diluc, just like the hellhound, stared up at you as you refused to acknowledge him any further, too. You weren't doing yourself and favors in making him feel like he had to be careful about you, but you surely felt just as cautious of him. This, along with many other reasons, was why he primarily worked alone.

But look where that got him.

Out of his jumbled assortment, Diluc finally picked a query, one he needed to have an answer to before anything else happened.

“I didn't know witches could read minds.”

“I can't, but I know a witch that can. Though, she isn't important right now. Bath.”

He was unhappy about it, but Diluc took the clear hint, shoved right into his face, and got out of the cot to make his way up the stairs.

Once again he caught you talking to the hellhound as it barked leaving the last words Diluc heard right as his feet hit the landing were “No, Wrio, I don't think he didn't drink the tea because it wasn't to his taste. Honestly.”

Then you were muffled by the bathroom door.

It opened with a loud creak, the hinges in clear need of some oil, but otherwise, the room seemed fairly state of the art even with the clawfoot tub in the middle and plants everywhere. One even seemed to reach out for him as he walked past to find the pile of clothing (that looked a little too big for him) you were talking about. On top of it lay a single scrap of paper clearly ripped out from a bigger sheet that read ‘when you're done there will be a potion waiting for you. It's best to drink it, or the witch will have your head.”

Dropping it back down, Diluc's hand once again reached up to the broken badge at his chest. It poked at his skin through the torn shirt he was wearing as he clutched at it, squeezing tightly as he stopped to simply breathe. Taking it all in. Every ache in his body, the bruises he could see reflected in the mirror to his right, and the white bandage wrapped around his head with a single splot of muddied brown in the middle.

He had been so close to the vampire he has been hunting down for all these years since the death of his father and when he finally reached someone related to that damned blood sucker he barely escaped with his life.

Another breath.

A second later, and you might have had a dead body to dispose of and not something you regarded with the same annoyance as children egging your house on Halloween. Despite how little he knew you, he could already see you grabbing their eats and chewing them out for hours.

Diluc quickly realized he'd much rather be listening to your scolding than sitting up here in silence. Right now, there was too much time to think.

His red eyes cast across the room, taking in every bit of decor you had let clutter the place until it was bursting with maximum capacity all the way back down to the note. Whoever wrote this, he could only guess it was the hellhound, had terrible handwriting Diluc thought. Right before his mind drifted back to where he was trying to avoid.

His anger.

How long did he let it control him as Diluc didn't drift but charge from place to place in search of the next vampire to obliterate without support?

It had run him as dry as the leads he chased.

What had that brought him besides isolation, constantly looking over his shoulder, and the glaring realization Diluc still had the same weakness that dragged him down when he first picked up the Evil Eye?

The witch downstairs claimed he was new to this world, and you weren't too far from the truth either. Diluc’s own naivety as a Paladin had been his father's undoing, and he refused to let it claim anyone else.

He’s not the Paladin Crepus wanted him to be and never will.

No, he has to be more.

Diluc looked at himself in the mirror again, spotting his collection of scars and bluish green patches on his skin as he decided one thing: that starts now.

But first, he had to figure out how your tub worked. It always was a challenge trying to fathom someone's else's plumbing.

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