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canireadinpeace · 4 months ago

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YALL THIS IS AMAZING

If you love Vega (like me) or just have romantic brainrot of him (like me again) then please give this fanfic a small time of your day to read!

😍😍😍

I wrote Vampire Vega fic

I'm not sure what it is tone-wise, but it's here. Big thanks to @canireadinpeace for posting about the concept.

Content warning for blood and blood drinking

Ah shit, you thought as your foot cracked all the ominous-looking signs at the entrance of the manor. There was a Hansa, the evil eye, a Christian cross, a whole interreligious plethora of symbols atop a bunch of boards, now cracked and in disarray. In fairness, how could you have seen anything given all the dirt?

Body cam fully charged, phone rechecked to see if the place had any signal (it didn’t), and editing equipment back home updated, you stepped into the Spanish Mansion, named by you. It was some old dead noble’s summer home that you always recalled seeing as you drove to and from town, set to be finally demolished next year. For some reason, no other urban explorer YouTubers have ever arrived here. That meant you were the first, and hopefully only influencer to explore this prime piece of content. A video like this might boost your subscriber count to the four digits!

You opened the door, and the first thing you noticed was all the portraits, all of the house’s original resident. You had done your research of course. According to the internet, Vega (if that was his actual name), was a matador Spanish nobleman known for his vanity. He was also known for possibly being a serial killer, the details of which were stupidly nonexistent online. He had the potential to be the subject of many a podcast, but he didn’t even have an image on his own Wikipedia page. You couldn’t even find him on those true crime forums.

That was a crying shame, because as you gazed at the walls and walls of portraits, Vega was really really good-looking. There was him as a mermaid, a Greek god, a centaur, another mermaid but with a sea snake tail entangling a pirate with a frilly shirt that was also him, Vega must’ve kept a lot of artists busy.

You make sure to get footage of as many portraits as possible. They were well-preserved despite their age. Trying to get a full shot of a painting of him in a rose garden enjoying a glass of red wine, you back into the staircase and knock a frame off a wall. It fell face-down onto the floor. First the boards, now this? You made a note to edit the footage out later.

Fortunately, the picture wasn’t too big, and you were able to prop it up against the stairs. It was Vega yet again, but a different Vega than the other portraits. In it, his features were obscured by a mask and he brandished not a matador sword, but a claw with red-stained blades, advancing upon the viewer. The painter had also added a streak of red to his eyes It would make an awesome Wikipedia picture. You snap a picture with your phone.

Something creaked upstairs, and you hoped with house wouldn’t collapse on you. It was always a gamble with these old houses.

You moved into a sitting room. It had a grand mirror, now smashed to pieces. Many of the rooms had similarly destroyed mirrors. All windows were barred on the outside. Much of the furniture was also smashed. Only the portraits, which coated the walls of the rest of the first floor, survived whatever wild animal or force of nature had overturned the building.

You took a break in the kitchen to review your footage and check your equipment. There was a giant hole in the ceiling, peaking into an upstairs room. Many cabinet doors were ripped off the wall. A bunch of empty wine bottles were piled in a corner, broken like almost everything else in the house.

Satisfied with your gear, you got up to leave, but you spotted something in the wine pile. You headed closer, glass crunching under your feet, and pick up an intact bottle. Time had aged the label into something unrecognizable, but you spot a scribble of handwriting.

Sang fina. A shame you don’t know Spanish.

You placed the bottle back, but your foot slipped. On instinct, you try to break your fall and end up with two handfuls of broken glass. Blood seeped onto the floorboards.

Cursing, you fumbled out a first aid kit and began to dress your wounds. You hoped the upstairs filming would go more smoothly.

Go more smoothly it did. More portraits, more blockaded windows, beds with mysterious copper stains, lots of things to edit. Along the way, you found a scrap of a letter tossed aside under a desk. What little was legible read:

My dearest __________

_______ commend your convic______ to the __servation of your beau__. There may be _____, but ________ you, ______________ be worth it in the end.

Sincerely,

F____

You made sure to take ample footage of it, as well as snap a picture with your phone.

Now, the final room to explore was the room with the hole. You wonder if you should film it, given safety concerns, but the final room looked to be the master bedroom, so you had to, or else the house wouldn’t feel complete.

You cracked open the door and closed it after. It was the master bedroom. The ample sheets on the bed were rumpled and ripped. There was a giant hole to the kitchen, showing the mess you made of the wine pile. A dresser perched precariously next to the hole, its mirror destroyed like the rest. Right in front, was the only non-Vega portrait. It was of a beautiful woman, with long flowing hair, cradling a sleeping child, foot atop a hideous, hawk-like creature. Teetering close to the edge, you had to get closer.

A snarl. The snaps of glass moving. You look down and almost drop your camera.

A hideous, shriveled creature on all fours had stuck its face into the glass. It was in rags, strands of hair wisped off its scalp, where had such a thing come from? You realize what it was doing. It was licking, licking your blood off the floor.

You tried to move, but something held you in place.

The creature finished dragging its tongue over the floor, over the broken glass. It paused as if also in a lull. Before your eyes, its hair grew back, long and smooth. Its back filled out with muscle, and it stood upright, gazing at its hands. It turned and growled straight at you, eyes red, fangs bared.

You recognized that face. It was Vega, and he looked hungry.

You pressed your body against the dresser and shoved it at Vega. Gravity took its grip, and it tilted into the hole. You launched yourself at the door. The wooden structure crashed behind you.

Your phone dropped behind you. By an instinct honed by years of treating it as a safety blanket, you double back to get it. Your grasping fingers slid across the screen, and it turned on. Home screen, emergency call screen, camera. Camera. You got an idea.

There was a clattering up the stairs. Sounds like Vega wasn’t crushed by the dresser. You were surprised at your relief.

A rasping voice, “blood…I need blood…only then will I be complete. You have sustained me…I feel my beauty coming back…in return, I shall drain you dry!”

You step on a shard of mirror, cracking it further. You thought about using it as a weapon, but you didn’t trust your chances. He was very muscular in those paintings.

You turn your camera’s flash on. You slam open the door and run straight at the figure stalking toward you. You snap a picture and Vega recoils in shock. You manage to brush past him, his skin cold against your touch.

Jumping down many steps at a time, the open door grew closer. So close, your fingers reached into the fresh air.

Vega jumped on your back and tackled you outside. The broken sigils crunched against your back. Your body cam clattered and jammed into your ribs. Your head rang when it hit the ground. You spat grass out of your mouth. Your ankle caught on a step and twisted.

Vega had you pinned down, hands clamped on your shoulders. He glanced back at the broken plates you broke when you first stepped into the mansion. “You have freed me,” he said. He brought your wrist to his mouth. There was no puff of air from breathing. “I will savor this,” Vega smiled, exposing his straight fangs and teeth. He slashed a fang across your inner wrist.

You had no idea blood could spurt so much. His eyes grew glassy, and he dove in. He drank your blood like a starving man, growling, gulping drizzles like they were mouthfuls. Red ran down Vega’s face, spilling onto his neck, his chest, and what was left of his clothes. After every nip and suck, Vega licked your wound, almost like a signature, spreading the red around.

The smell of copper tinged the air. You watched color soak back into Vega’s face, his already strong arms growing even stronger. Vega’s skin smoothed until he was the beautiful man in the portraits. You wouldn’t mind dying to such a polished creature.

Between growls, there were words. Mostly comments on how good you tasted. “How lucky you are,” Vega panted, “to gaze upon my beautiful visage as you slowly die.”

Visage. The smashed mirrors. Words unlodged from your mouth, “Can you see yourself anymore?”

That gave Vega pause. A bit of blood oozed onto his finger. “What do you think?” he snarled.

“Do you want to see yourself again? I have a way,” you said.

Vega licked the blood on his finger, “try anything, and I’ll kill you. I’ll even turn your face away from me.” He brushed his tongue against your wrist in one last languid stroke, and let you go. He removed his weight off your body.

You took your phone out, after a few tries, with your uninjured hand. You turn on the camera function and pull out the photo you last took of him. The Vega of the photo was attractive in a blown-dry zombie sort of way, but his face was all twisted, his eyes filled with a sort of desperation. The Vega in front of you had his face comported into a haughty calmness, despite your blood smeared across his face. You couldn’t show him this.

Vega crossed his arms and began to tap his sharp claws. “I’m growing impatient, Little Explorer, show me what I want, or face my wrath.”

You turn your camera onto selfie mode and shove it at him. Vega’s comport dropped, but instead of viciousness, there was wonder. His mouth opened. He gently, despite his claws, pried your fingers off the phone and took it in his hand. His fingers were as cold as always.

“As beautiful as always,” Vega muttered, “my dreams didn’t lie.” He brushed his fingers through his hair, “it has been so long…I need a brush. I need clothes.” Vega proceeded to examine every part of his face, from his eyelids to his teeth. It was like you weren’t even there.

You tried to crawl away. Vega clamped a hand against your shoulder, as strong as ever. “Don’t move, I haven’t forgotten about you.” Vega licked his lips, not taking his eyes off your phone.

“The phone,” you managed, “I have the password. And it needs to be charged, to keep working.”

Vega finally took his attention off your phone. His eyes faded from red to a pale blue. He threw his head back and laughed. “Trying to make yourself useful, aren’t you?” He rotated your phone around, examining its shape, “I see the world as changed. If I ever want to rebuild and achieve my revenge, I must adapt.” Vega’s eyes brushed over you, “you are beautiful, although not as much as me. You will make a good guide.”

“Cool, thanks,” you pant. You were just glad to live another day. You shambled into an upright position. Vega handed your phone back to you, “I recommend you bandage that wound, lest I be tempted again,” his eyes flashed red.

You reached for your first aid kit, “I’ll do this in my car,” you said. You try to take a step, and you stumble. Vega caught you before you hit the ground and tossed you into a bridal carry. “It’s obvious you can’t walk right now. Point me to this vehicle you speak of.”

You did, and Vega walked across the field, away from the old mansion. Despite his body’s coldness, you could feel the constriction and contraction of the muscles in his chest and arms, giving him some form of life. Strands of silky hair skimmed across your face.

Along the way, your phone regained its signal and began to buzz with notifications. You turned it on. Those alerts had come from the true crime forums. You skim them with growing horror.

Has anyone heard of this Vega guy? I can’t believe no one talks about him.

Yo I just found this archive with all his old papers

He has a house right next to us! And it’s set to be demolished!

Rlly? WTF? Why would they desstoy history???

i live super close from there I’m gonna go. Wish me luck!

You saw a car pull up next to yours. You close your eyes and lean your head against Vega’s chest. What exactly had you unleashed into this world?

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