#vampire hunter diluc

[carmelcholate]

{𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓟𝓮𝓽 } 𝓚𝓪𝓮𝔂𝓪 𝓐𝓵𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

{𝓲𝓲} 𝓑𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓖𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽

Suddenly as if a weight had been lifted off yourself, your body recovered consciousness and jolted awake opening your eyes you saw a blurry figure standing in front of you. Shaking your head to wake you were instead met by one of the most beautiful shades of periwinkle that a person could have as an eye color. As the lights above you began to illuminate you finally could see however it is.

The man had dark blue hair that reached below his shoulder. His then right eye was covered by an eyepatch making you look towards his left side instead taking a closer look to his features you where a little in awe at his beauty you have never thought someone that handsome ever existed especially something out of a fairy tale.

You then began to take in the surrounding that place was now illuminated by the dim lamps above, which wasn't the case when you arrived and the place was no longer covered in dust and dirt instead everything was neatly tucked away, cleaned showcasing the lavish guest area not even a trace of anything seen when you arrived was here?

Looking towards the man again in pure confusion " Where am I " you asked clearly not gripping the situation which also seems to give the man a slightly confused reaction too but alittle amused at the same time by the looks of it his lip had slightly curved.

"Interesting don't you think? I was about to ask you the same" what business? do you have in my mansion young miss/ sir and in who's authority did you have entry to this area?

He said his silky voice deepening signaling his change in demeanour addressing his authority but the amused look on his face didn't change abit.

You quickly got up from the couch bowing your head as you refusively began to apologize about entering some else property because from the looks of it looked really abanded and in the mindset of finding shelter you probably imagined something else and where to leave right away when the rain calmed abit.

The man in response shook his head instead ,arms crossed as he leaned up against the wall looking back at you in understanding.

"Well then you should've just said so young miss/sir but I still don't understand why I wasn't notified of this entry of yours and to how you got unsupervised I might need to start giving out proper discipline especially to such unattended matters" his voice going cold but immediately changed looking back at you.

Which genuinely frightened you *how does someone's demeanour constantly keep changing from friendly to violent in just a few minutes ?*

* And what does it mean about servants you couldn't even hear a pin drop of noise since you arrived and how the hell did this place change you sweared to god you weren't't imagining things.*

You thought to your self, running through the forest wet and cold couldn't suddenly make you delusional to imagine the place look like something it was not but for some reason you wanted to mentally slap yourself, you felt slightly embrassed and guilty at the same for intruding into someone else property and the right thing to do was to leave immediately.

Apologizing once again you grabbed your backpack from below and was ready to head out but was immediately stopped by his voice once again turning from his friendly side to cold.

"Do you really think it's advisable for a young lady/lad as yourself to be roaming around such late hours of the night, all alone?"

*Well he did have a point, it was really late and still pouring outside and the way out of here is the woods which you really didn't want to deal with the occurrence of yourself being lost again at such time and evening if you did make it out the last town was properly miles away*

Sighing deeply you turned around to face the man who's expression soon changed back to normal, you nodding in agreement.

"Great then! As my guest for the night and as your host let me have the honors of serving you to night, making sure you're properly feed and have a nice warm bed to sleep on!"

He said cheerfully before lightly clapping his hands.

"Adeline would you mind taking our beloved guest's backpack back to their room?"

"Yes Master" someone whispered behind you their cold breath making you get chills swiftly from the scare. There stood a pale looking woman, her eye motionless as she held your bag in two hands before bowing down and in a blink of an eye she vanished as she was never there just seconds ago. Clearly Abit spooked you looked back to the male not able to process whatever is going on you kept silent, in return the male gave you a reassuring smile.

Gently placing his hand around your waist as he guided you towards the dinner area, *where a hot freshly cooked meal awaits*

Little did you know staying the night at this strangers place was a really really bad life decision you had chosen to accomplish yourself with.

[poisonf0rest]

𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

Plip, plop, plip, plop.

“The walls are crumbling.”

Plip, plop, plip, plop. 

“Can you feel it? The ocean is rumbling.” 

Today marks the beginning of a new era. 

After years of disproven theories and failed experiments, the Byrgenwerth Council has finally granted you approval to perform the surgery you’ve been perfecting since your days as a student: a procedure that will grant eyes to the inside of the brain.

A method to elevate the mind to the plane of the gods.

A way to see beyond.

You’ve been tinkering away in the laboratory for hours already, prepping for your opening surgery as you disinfect drills, scalpels, and needles all from muscle memory. Shoulders stiff from hunching over the tub, you set out the last set of equipment to sterilize and dry, lacing up your white coat before stepping into the main corridor. 

Strange, you don’t remember it being flooded before. 

Wading through the murky liquid, you feel it slosh at your ankles with every step, the once pristine tiled floors of the Research Hall’s grand entrance were now cracked and eroded under the layer of water stretched as far as the eye could see. 

No matter. Your surgery is scheduled for a quarter past, you have no time to waste on such trivial matters. You’ll simply ask one of those orphans to begin mopping up this mess. 

Continuing forward, the building seems to deteriorate with every step: grand columns and statues of Church scholars from decades past erode before your eyes, the mist eating away at the very soul of the Hall, leaving it deserted and ugly and starving. It beckons you further. Closer. 

You pause at the base of the stairs. The railings have all but rotted, and at your feet is a patient- which you do not know- scrambling for something in the water as she mutters incoherently. 

“Where is your caregiver?” You ask, beginning towards her until she lurches forward, tripping over her bound ankles as she slips down the last few steps, falling headfirst into the murky water with a dull crack.  

Rushing to her side, you help her up,  “Are you alright? Tell me how I–”  Dark liquid clings and oozes down her hair and skin. Like a rotten egg cracked open. 

Her face is gone. 

You feel her body twist and contort against your palms, elongating as the patient garbs rip and tear along all the new angles that should never exist on a human form. And over her head is a leather bag, strapped onto her shoulders and fastened around her neck with layers upon layers of buckles fastened so tight that dried blood sticks them to the bag itself. There is no face left. Under the leather there is nothing but a bloated, tumorous mass that bubbles with fluid, and when the patient tries to speak again it sounds like the roar of the ocean. 

You do not scream. 

You have seen this before. 

After all, you are the one doing this to them. 

“Oh,” The patient pulls away from your hold, gasping as she goes back to groping around in the water. “Has someone, anyone, seen my eyes? I'm afraid I've dropped them in a puddle.” 

Plip, plop, plip, plop. 

What is the suffering of one when it could mean the salvation of a thousand? 

What is justice in the face of true madness? 

You do not know. You simply listen to the science, to the teachings of the Great Ones, and pray that They are right. Pray that this was all worth it. 

Plip, plop, plip, plop. 

The further up you climb the more patients you run into, all in a state of transformation and decay due to the surgeries you and your fellow researchers conducted on them. Most simply stagger about, blind under their leather bags and bloated heads, others wriggle like worms in the puddles forming from the cracks on the floor, and some are nothing but heads, praying to gods who will not listen. 

You try and listen. Anything to ease their suffering. 

Suppose that’s a little hypocritical though, isn't it?

Or perhaps that makes you their god?

Some patients have undergone trephination three or four times. None have gotten better. But the true chances are noticeable. Sure, there is a base loss in appearance and more human-like qualities. However, that is in exchange for insight into something even greater, something beyond the average human’s comprehension. It is the key you’ve been searching for.

They are lucky, you reason, to be the chosen ones for this grand endeavor. After all, each and every patient here enlisted themselves for research, wholeheartedly believing in the holy crusade the Healing Church has undertaken to cleanse Yharnam. It is your honor, truly, to be working alongside such devotion.

After all, in a city without hope, there is only so much one as an individual can accomplish. Either you're a scholar, a killer, or fodder for the prior. Fodder to feed the stars, fodder to raise hell. It gets harder to tell which way is up with every passing day. 

Are we rising? 

Or sinking?

Plip, plop, plip, plop.

Finally, the staircase ends, falling apart behind you, and you pull on your surgery gloves. You smile to yourself as you prepare for the operation, remembering just how close you are to finding the knowledge of transcendence. The Council has entrusted you- Micolash himself has entrusted you- and this could very well be the next stage in humanity’s correspondence with the realms beyond. 

Up until now, all of your patients have stagnated. Despite their altered forms, they were still undoubtedly stuck on this plane of existence, only sometimes slipping to the higher planes of the Great Ones once you drilled more gray matter into their brains, recalling the dripping pattern of rain and the roar of the ocean. 

Water, you hypothesize, is the key. 

Bodies of water act as liminal spaces- gateways, if you will- from our own world to one of the Great Ones. Like looking down at one’s own reflection, that relationship mirrors the relationship between the world of the gods and that of our own: our realm is merely a moment’s imitation of true existence, one that is warped and fragile, disrupted with but a ripple. 

To be able to reach beyond the water’s surface, to break free from the role of a mere reflection and sit atop the true world alongside the Great Ones. That is your purpose. That is the goal of the Research Hall. 

And so this is all but a necessary sacrifice. 

Walking into the vast operating room, you feel the burn of the spotlights as you set the tray of tools down aside the patient, the rough click of metal on metal reverberating through the room. The rest of the researchers watch you, like spectators at the coliseum as they surround you from the observatory decks. You hope Micolash is among them. You hope Lady Maria is there too. 

Strapped to the table is a patient you’ve come to know well, a woman who was as dedicated to finding the key to ascension as you were. Your first success. 

“Saint Adeline,” you greet, bowing even though she cannot see you through the leather bag buckled around her head. 

Adeline giggles. “Ma’at, Themis, my beautiful Yama. Has the day of judgment arrived?”

She tries to reach for you, but the buckles strapping her to the operating table chain her in place. As if knowing she’s being watched, her voice drops into a drowsy whisper, “Is the ocean falling? Rumbling?” 

You hum in response, filling up a syringe with brain fluid- not your discovery, not your choice in name, you’re aware it’s rather silly- the grayish amoeba crawling and bouncing along the vial. However, you were the one to recognize its use, for once extracted from a patient whose transformation was complete, you hypothesized that re-injection into a brain could stimulate the formation of internal eyes.

And today, your hypothesis will be proven correct. 

It has to. 

“Yes, Adeline, today the surface will break.” You prepare to make the opening incision, a drill straight through the occipital bones, only to drop your hands when you realize there is nothing in them. 

Adeline smiles up at you, and you curse at yourself for never noticing how beautiful she was. Paler than moonlight both in skin and hair, blonde strands cascading over the operating table as she sits up, taking your face in her palms. Wrenching your body towards hers, her grip fractures your wrists, lips brushing by your ear as she gives you one last kiss. Breath as cold as ice, eyes as pale as the moon. 

"Only an honest death will cure you now."

Plip, plop, plip, plop. 

She is dead. 

Everyone is dead. 

A rogue Hunter broke into the Research Hall, slaughtering everyone in the observatory deck in the midst of your surgery, blood from the bodies pooling down over the railings and steps. Years of research- of true progress - destroyed by a man worth little more than a beast. 

You can hardly think. You just run. 

Church Hunters are killers by nature, beasts who oh so easily give in to the Scourge. Clearly, this one was already lost, driven mad by his own bloodlust. 

Dying screams and unanswered prayers echo down every hall like a haunted church during worship, and no matter how far you run their last words ring in your ears and rattle your skull. The air tastes like iron and you feel something warm trickle down your lips. Your nose is bleeding.

Running into a laboratory, you duck as bodies are thrown against priceless equipment, vials shattering and blood splattering onto countless records as the Research Hall runs red. The water runs red. The ocean rises. 

Surely someone has raised the alarm, more Church Hunters should be coming to the rescue, but by then you fear it may be too late for— 

“Stop running, you fucking scum.”

You freeze.

You swore you had outrun it. You swore it was behind you, lazy and greedy in the carnage it had already created. And yet here it stood, blood-soaked and snarling before you. 

Death itself.

Hunched in the corridor before you was the rogue Hunter, standing in the ocean of blood as he bites into a trapped scholar’s neck, the poor boy writhing with a violet scream until he goes limp in the Hunter’s arms, drained. 

Vampyre. Vileblood. Accursed beast. 

“Monster.” 

He smiles back, fangs bloody and bare. “Likewise.”

With a lunge, the Hunter is upon you, but it is not the harsh tile but rather a soft thud of soil that breaks your fall. The petals of crushed sunflowers shrivel under your body as they dim in their dying moments. 

No, not sunflowers, there is no sun, not anymore. Instead, these ghostly imitations of sunflowers seem to feed off of something else entirely, curling around your bleeding legs and stretching towards the Hunter as he too appears in the gateway to the garden. 

Unsheathing his claymore, the Hunter stalks forward, shadows warping his form with every arch he passes under, ticking closer and closer and closer still. But instead of swiftly delivering you the killing blow, the Hunter stalls, pausing at the last archway before the garden as he sees a patient writhing against the marble. 

Their bloated head was too large for their deformed shoulders to support, and instead of fleeing they were doomed to writhe on the dirt, chained limbs flailing with every gurgled cry. The Hunter barely wastes a moment, cutting free the patient’s bindings before a dull thud echoes down the garden walkway. 

You watch the patient’s head roll across the marble and scoff from your place on the ground. What a waste of a valuable test subject. 

Even in death’s face you can’t help but laugh at the self-proclaimed righteousness of this Beast. “Do you think yourself a savior?”

At first, he doesn’t grant you the dignity of a reply. “I hold no illusions. I'm just a different breed of monster from you, heretic.” Swinging his claymore, it glints the same violent red as his hair. It’s as beautiful as it is blinding. “But at least I’ll die knowing I haven't condemned hundreds to an early grave for the selfish illusions of gods and power.”

You laugh, “Illusions? Your kind will never comprehend the truth. Their lives were willingly offered for the sake of evolving mankind, so that no plague or war or sin could corrupt us again.”

The Hunter is above you now, kicking a boot onto your chest as he forces you to the floor with the tip of his claymore pressed to your throat. 

You simply greet the kiss of metal with open arms, saying a final prayer in hopes the Great Ones accept you in your next life. “Kill me, Beast. Kill me, but know that our pursuit of knowledge can never be quelled.”

“You call it knowledge, I see only carnage.”

“And the dog can stare at language so long as it desires, but it shall never speak.”

“Then howl.”

And with a single slash, the Hunter severs your head from your shoulders. 

Plip.

We fail to realize our own latent potential until the moment it is lost, and we sense its absence. Ironically, this is the very nature of insight, like the moment one licks one's own blood, only to be startled by its sweetness.

And your blood, mon cherí , was oh so sweet. 

Plop.

· · ─────── ·♰· ─────── · ·

Every night, without the sun ever coming up, the lunar cycle inches closer to the full moon. And with every cycle, the neverending hunt grows more violent and vicious. 

And when the full moon finally takes up Her place in the sky, She hangs low with a silver glow and the promise of blood. She is enchanting, haunting, and hungry in a way only the divine can be: utterly insatiable.  

The early spring snow has long since melted, slathering cobblestones in a bloody sludge, the cold air tainted with the rotten stench of iron and the screams of the Beasts, newly transformed and starving. Down the flickering streets, far in the distance, and even inside alleyway buildings, the howls of the damned are inescapable.

Everybody who has once called Yharnam their home is dead, dying, or transforming into something else entirely. 

You’re not sure which is worst. 

Where the Beasts go the Hunters follow, two sides of the same twisted fate, and the hunt quickly turns into a bloodbath. To quell public panic and unrest, the Healing Church has deployed wave after wave of Hunters, and soon both man and monster prowl the streets of Yharnam, nearly indistinguishable as they are doused in red and silver. 

The Church has eyes everywhere tonight, and yet, with so many injured you cannot help but keep your clinic doors open. You took an oath, and you shall keep it no matter how dark this night gets. 

Within hours, your clinic is overwhelmed. 

The main floor only has three rooms, several dozen cots crammed in between supplies and maze-like walkways, and the stench of gore and panic overwhelming the small space. Even with extra makeshift cots you and the orphans scrambled together, several dozen Hunters and injured civilians lay sprawled across boxes of medical equipment, bleeding out against tables or on each other. 

You tried to mandate Scourge infection screenings at the door, checking for darkening veins or fogging pupils, but with only the children and yourself left to run the clinic you’re quickly overrun and forgo the physical examinations. Perhaps that was the first mistake. By the second toll of the bell the clinic already reeks of blood and piss and sweat and death. Combined with the rising temperatures due to the growing crowd of bodies and the overlapping screams of your patients, it was nearly unbearable. 

For the sake of basic sanitation, you tried to delegate each patient to their own area and medical equipment, but cross-contamination is inevitable as panicked townsfolk and aggravated Hunters scramble and fight for the quickly dwindling supplies. It was a nightmare come to life.

“Doctor!”

Turning, you nearly barrel into an elderly woman, helping her out of the way before you rush to Alison, who is still calling your name as she and Edwin fight to keep a patient down. He’s a Hunter, you quickly realize, pinned onto the cot as he thrashes and screams, a black rot squirming and crawling like a parasite burrowing into the gash across his open stomach. 

“ Merde ,” you curse, watching the rot spread, “It’s the Scourge. Edwin! Strap his limbs down and ensure no other patients come near.” 

The boy nods, already shouting orders to the other children as they struggle together to tie down the screaming Hunter as you force panicked observers out of the way.

Running past, you shove past the door to your lab, scrambling up the stairs and between the numerous experiments until you find the mixed cultured samples of Diluc’s vampire blood.

There was no time to check which of the trials- if any- actually contained an antibody capable of fighting the Beastly Scourge, but you’d be damned to have collected this much information and not try when a patient was dying right below your feet. 

You pick one randomly. “Please,” praying into the syringe, you fill it with culture #9801. “Work.”

Downstairs, someone screams.

A few seconds later, you hear a loud crash, a body hitting the floor, then nothing but panicked shrieks, chasing you down the stairs as you burst through the clinic doors.

The infected Hunter was already in the midst of transforming, one furry arm freed from the restraints and thrashing widely at the air, snarling like a mad beast as Edwin and Alison fight to keep the other limbs locked.

Disregarding the flailing claws of the half-beast, you duck beneath the equipment, crawling until you lay under the mad Hunter’s cot. Snapping up, you lunge to avoid getting pierced, twisting around the bottom of the cot before thrusting the syringe into his side, pushing down as you watch the gray liquid inject. He howls and you tremble, fighting to keep the needle lodged in his rotting skin. 

Then the Hunter lies still.

A moment of silence.

And, before your very eyes, he begins to revert, fur receding and bones snapping back into place as he groans and gasps in human pain. It worked.

It worked. 

It really worked. 

Giddy with hope, you’re already running through countless possibilities of furthering testing on mice and the logistics for mass producing a vaccine, the reality of finally creating a cure for the Beastly Scourge so impossibly wondrous you’re physically shaking. Biting your cheek does little to hide your smile, and it's only another look around the packed clinic that reminds you of the task at hand. 

Rolling out from under the cot, you instruct the children to leave the man’s restraints on, just in case, you tell yourself, and move them on to treat new patients. 

Notes can wait. Plans can wait. Hope can wait. 

Your patients cannot.

You repeat the mantra over and over, yet it does little to ground you against the flurry of thoughts surrounding this potential cure. Which, in hindsight, is probably why you failed to notice a fallen medical tray, boot skidding across the metal surface as your ankle rolls out from under you. 

You couldn’t even process the fall in time to scream. Only a blink, and your vision swoops to the ceiling as you plummet backward. 

But you never hit the floor. 

An arm wraps around your waist, holding you tight the other hand re-balances you from the small of your back. Then you’re hoisted up, the walls shifting back in place. Even so, your savior’s touch lingers, the burn of his palm radiating even through your lab coat. He smells like smoke. 

“Careful.”

You breathe in deeply despite yourself, “Diluc.”

You didn’t even notice him enter. 

But then you falter. Why is he here? Your Hunter makes it a point only to arrive when the clinic is empty, or at least sneak by to avoid as many people as possible. There is no way he wouldn’t have heard- or frankly smelled- the blood and panic in your clinic from miles away with his enhanced senses.

Your brows furrow, and Diluc flinches ever so slightly as your fingers graze his jaw.  “Is something the matter? You look weary.”

Refusing to meet your gaze, Diluc notices Alison and Orton struggling to drag another cot through the crowd of patients, and vanishes from your side. He single-handedly lifts the bed and sets it down across the clinic hall, reappearing beside you within a fraction of a second. His palm immediately returns to rest against your back. 

“You seem busy.”

Avoiding the question. Typical. 

And yet it’s really quite hard to stay mad at Diluc when he subconsciously hugs you tighter, shielding you from the mass of patients pushing past, so clearly overwhelmed by the noise and the crowd and yet lingering by you. For you. Not only that but the heat of his touch and the looming reminder of how much his form towers over you makes you far more distracted than you’d like to admit. 

But before you could even think of teasing him for the habit, Diluc pulls you even closer still, making your tongue twist in your mouth as your jaw goes slack. His hand comes up, skimming past your collarbones as it pauses by your neck. 

Is he—? Here? Now? 

You’re still in the midst of processing the initiation of this very public display when Diluc frowns, his hand brushing past your jaw. 

“How…” Ever so gently his fingers tilt your head back, tracing across your neck with a touch so cold it almost feels like the tip of a blade. “When did you get this scar?”

“Scar?”

Startled, break from Diluc’s hold, picking up a medical tray for a makeshift mirror as you crane your chin backward. 

Sure enough, slashed across the near entirety of your neck was a needle-thin scar, silver and almost invisible in the low light. You would have thought it a trick of the fluorescent clinic lights or side effects of your fatigue if not for Diluc questioning it first. 

How had you received the scar? 

You can’t remember. 

Your vision swims for a moment, distorting as if a veil has been thrown over your eyes, focusing and unfocusing as if the cloth of reality danced and fluttered just outside your perception. Seeing through omission. Noticing only that which is not there. Remembering that which has not happened yet and what is to come. 

It rushes against your ears, a sound strong enough to be a feeling, like getting tossed under the waves until your very sense of being is distorted, not knowing which way is up. 

A blink and it’s gone; you’ve resurfaced, and your head throbs in its absence.

“Saints.” Groaning, you cradle your temples, muttering that you’re fine over and over again as you manage to hear Diluc’s voice through the roar of the surf. 

He says your name again, louder this time, and the sound of the ocean cuts off with the scream of a child. What the fuck. You look wildly around the clinic, and yet there are no children in sight, only a young maiden and a few young Hunters getting treated for their wounds. 

“If there something you’re keeping from me—”

You force a smile. “I’m fine, Diluc. Just a little tired from all of this,” you motion, arms sweeping across the clinic and towards him before running your hands up your face and into your hair. Even so, you keep the grin, eyeing the infected Hunter still sleeping peacefully in his cot. “Enough about me, did you see it? The cure?”

He still looks abnormally tense, eyeing you with something you can’t quite place, something between reverence and regret that makes your chest pang. You step forward, about to ask again when another voice cuts across the chaos of the clinic. 

“Pardon me, are you the lead physician of this establishment?” 

You jolt away from Diluc, whipping around as you find a young man— A patient? A Hunter?-- grinning in an almost overly-friendly manner as he approaches the both of you with clasped hands. Correction: as he approaches Diluc , clearly mistaking him for the physician.

Clearing your throat, you step before the stranger, offering him a gloved hand that he takes half in reflex and half in confusion. “Correct. However, if this is a request for quicker treatment, allow me to remind you that we treat every patient here equally and you or your friend will simply have to wait your turn.”

The man's face lights up in surprise, and he immediately shouts out an apology. “I beg your pardon, I only assumed that–” the man stops himself, nearly doubling over in laughter as curls of thick blonde hair flop with every hearty chuckle. “I suppose that was the problem to begin with, no? No more assumptions. A pleasure to meet you, m’lady.”

“Doctor will work just fine.”

"Oh, well beg your pardon, Doctor. You may call me Alfred!" He says, offering a deep bow and salute, his elbow pulled across his waist as he bends down, almost parallel with the ground. 

You shift in place. Despite Alfred’s unfaltering smile you cannot help but feel on guard around the boyish man: a type of unnerving fight or flight instinct one gets when cornered by a being that resembles something almost human.

A wolf in sheep's clothing. A monster in human skin. 

A mirror. 

Scanning his heavily embroidered cloak, you note its uncanny familiarity, a solid gray from top to bottom and covered in tight lapels and buttons. It was adorned with the rune stitched right into the center of his chest, revealed only when the heavy cloak hanging from his shoulders swung out to the side. 

That’s why you recognize them. They resemble Choir garbs. Not exactly, and he’s definitely too young to also be an orphan, but the similarity is undeniable. 

And that rune, you now remember what it stands for: God’s Executioner. 

You instinctually go for the dagger kept sheathed away in your lab coat. One strike. The clinic begins to warp with silence and static, and somewhere through the haze you watch Alfred lean closer, your vision narrowing into the hollow dip of his throat. One strike to the carotid artery, and the monster will bleed to death almost instantly. 

Trembling, your arm raises, snaking under your coat almost in slow motion, clasping around the handle just as someone’s hand stops yours in an iron grip. 

“M’lady?”

Their touch snaps you back to the present. Breath is punched back into your gut, and your senses are rushed with the smell of gore and rubbing alcohol, remembering the chaos of the clinic and the conversation you were in the midst of having. 

Alfred’s smile is twisted with concern, but you’re hardly coherent enough to stop him from coming closer as he continues talking about something or other you can’t quite hear above the roar of your own heartbeat. 

“The Doctor is rather overworked right now.” Your hand is nudged away from the concealed blade, and your back hits something firm, grounding you. ”Excuse us.” 

Diluc. It was Diluc’s hand that stopped yours just moments before you brandished your knife in the middle of the clinic. It was Diluc’s chest you’re pressed up against, an almost casual position if one failed to notice his hands lingering around your hip and wrist.

Saints, what is wrong with you?

Alfred opens his mouth to speak again, but your Hunter cuts him off with a curt nod, turning the both of you away before pushing towards the clinic's back door. You squirm against his hold, constantly twisting around as you watch Alfred’s gaze obsessively follow you. 

“Diluc, that man was wearing a Holy Shawl.”

“I am aware.”

“You- you don’t understand, he’s a hunter.”

“I know.” Diluc keeps pushing you forward, turning your neck back around when you fight to look behind you.

“No, no, you do not. He is a hunter . An Executioner, a hunter of Vilebloods, and he saw you-” This time when you turn back, Alfred is gone. You scan the clinic wildly, fighting against Diluc’s grasp. 

Diluc calls your name. “I know.” His hands slowly cup your cheeks, forcing you to quit looking erratically over his shoulders and finally meet his gaze. “I knew.”

The overwhelming smells and sounds of the clinic fade away as the sudden rush of the cold night air nips at your skin, the clinic’s back door clicking shut as Diluc leads you into the dim alley. You don’t realize how much you’re shaking until you try and pull his hands from your face, your fingers trembling against his own. 

How could you have been so fucking careless? You’re not a registered physician, not as far as the Healing Church is concerned, and that alone could be grounds for punishment, anywhere from mutilation to public execution. Not to mention, as a woman there’s no guarantee accusations of witchcraft or colluding with the devil wouldn't be charged against you as well. Now not only have you put your practice and patients at risk, but also Diluc and the children, not to mention jeopardize the cure you’ve only just managed to— 

You need to get the Church off your trail. 

It’s only the lingering heat of Diluc’s palms against your face that keeps you anchored from the voices rattling your skull with promises of violence. Breathe. 

You step back. Diluc lets you. Inhale. Your eyes are still locked with his, and your breathing syncs with his own, and you watch the worry fade from his crimson gaze before you curse at the ground. Exhale. 

“Don’t.”

“What?” You flinch at your own tone.

Diluc crosses his arms, blocking your path back into the clinic as you are forced backward. “I’m not a fool. You almost brandished a knife at a church executioner, you’re not thinking clearly.” 

You scoff. “Very well, so I panicked. But if you had let me lure him outside alone I could have taken care of—”

“What, and you believe the Healing Church would simply fail to notice when the Executioner they assigned to investigate this clinic doesn’t return?” A snarl, and you swear his eyes glow red in the dim light. He steps forward and instinctively you shrink back. ”I knew you were reckless, but I never took you as plain stupid. Do you want a larger target on your back? You like throwing yourself in danger?” 

Before you could even think to respond Diluc lets out a curt, mocking laugh, humorless as he motions between the two of you before snapping back to you. “Of course you do.”

Now it’s your turn to see red. 

How dare he. 

How dare that impulsive, violent, martyr of a Hunter accuse you of being the reckless one. 

And then— “You will stop seeing patients.”

The sheer absurdity of the request is enough to give you physical whiplash. “Excuse me?” 

Not a request. A demand. 

You gape up at him, insults and plain curses boiling up against your throat as you stare at Diluc’s apathetic, unchanging face, scowling down at you as though disciplining a bratty child or spoiled dog. 

“I certainly will not .” You step towards the clinic, the screams and prayers of patients resounding even through the door frame. “Tonight's Hunt has no end in sight, and already there are dozens who need my help. Not to mention I finally might have a cure for the Scourge.”

“That is precisely why you must lie low! You saw the Executioner prying, what makes you think the Church won’t send more dogs?”  

"This is my duty, Hunter. Just as you have yours."

Diluc snarls, "I'm fully aware of what being a doctor entails. But you are not—" He catches your gaze, tired and frustrated, and goes silent. Fuck. How is it that everything he says around you comes out wrong? He thinks it might be the curse of being undead. Oh, how easy if he could blame it on his lack of a heart, to blame it on Vampirism to blame it on the Church. But he feels it, he feels it skip when you look at him like this, he feels it tremble as he fails again and again to hold on without leaving claw marks and open wounds instead.

His anger has a way of always attacking the people he wants to protect. 

“You’re right,” You whisper. “We have only failed before, but that is precisely why we cannot fail again. If I can somehow manage to get the Church to distribute this cure, everyone in Yharnam could be immune in only a week's time. We could stop the Scourge in a matter of days- is that not worth every risk?”

"It was foolish. There was no guarantee that cure would have worked."

You stare at him, and by the gods are you tired. You’re tired of reaching, tired of convincing yourself that there must always be a catch, a drawback, a trap, that every effort is just an illusion of hope waiting to shatter. You simply want the conviction to truly believe that for once the world will get better.

 You think you have to hope. 

After all, that is why you saved him, is it not? It’s why you couldn't pull the trigger all those months ago. It’s why, after knowing all these reasons not to, you’re falling in love with him.

A sigh, and you're overwhelmed with the need to hold him. So you do, resting your head against his chest. He’s warm. "There are never guarantees, Diluc. Every treatment is subject to trial and chance, but at the end of the day I still treat my patients, and you still hunt your monsters."

And Diluc wants to fight back. He wants to stop you, to stop you before you truly cross the point of no return. To tear himself open and display the horrors of what the Hunter’s contract has forced upon him, anything to make you realize how much of a privilege the option of ignorance and the ability to just look away is. 

But all that you hear next are the screams coming from inside the clinic. 

You tear yourself away from the Hunter, jerking towards the backdoor before Diluc stops you, one hand pulling you backward as the other lands on the hilt of his greatsword. He unsheathes his claymore with practiced ease, kicking the door wide as you both push into the clinic. 

The stench of blood and gore nearly knocks you over. 

Bile crawls up your throat, and you drop to your knees in time to dodge an operating table hurled at the door. Diluc cleaves it in half, the pieces clattering to the floor. A Beast, writhing in pain as its ribs crack open, fur and limbs emerge from its writhing body in bloody spurts, still half restrained to a cot as it screeches and drags behind him.

You lunge for your rifle, aiming for the Beast’s head when you recognize that torn uniform, the Hunter garbs. He’s the patient, the patient you cured. 

The rifle trembles and your finger loosens on the trigger. “I can’t...” The cure had worked. 

You can’t kill a man.

But your Hunter knows no such hesitation. Diluc moves with an eerie grace, his sword flashing in the dim light of the clinic as he meets the Beast before it lunges at the mob. Blade strikes claw and the monster roars. Diluc ducks a swing, twisting his grip before punching the claymore upwards, slicing through the Beast’s ribcage as blood sprays in an arch across the clinic walls. 

"Stop! Don't kill him!" You cured him. You saw it, the cure worked. It had to have worked.

Diluc pauses unnaturally, stopping mid-swing as if his heart and instinct were fighting for control. "Are you mad?” It snarls and he drives the blade in again. ”It’s the Scourge, it's beyond saving!"

You shake your head, your eyes locked onto the Beasts. You can see it, the pain flickering in his cloudy, poisoned gaze, the slight twitch of his furry limbs as they resist the transformation. Only a human would fight that hard to stay alive. 

 But Diluc doesn't listen. The Hunter sees only a Beast.

Panicked, you’re about to drop your aim when your head rushes with an eerie ringing, a muted toll of bells throbbing through your ears as your balance gives. You barely register the pain of your knees ramming into the tile as your vision spins, throbbing in time to the ringing. Then, with a suddenness that makes you jump, it speaks. 

The Beast’s snarls part to form words, his voice now broken and guttural, as though attempting to make human speech from an animal tongue. "You believe you can save me?" it howls in laughter. "You believe you can break the curse that’s been wrought upon us?" 

Fool.

Foolish greedy human, always wanting knowledge that should never have been yours. 

Diluc steps back as though stunned, his sword lowering slightly. The Beast takes advantage of the momentary distraction and charges towards him. Your body moves on instinct. With a bang, your rifle goes off, the Beast howling as it convulses over its bleeding stomach, its flesh bubbling around the silver bullet with the stench of rotten flesh.

Diluc takes the opening, claymore following a clean arch over his shoulder. The metal sings, hitting the clinic’s floor at the same moment the Beast’s head does so too, its massive body following suit in a bloody heap. 

The screams of the other patients fade into the background as you stare at the lifeless body of the beast. Diluc turns to look at you, and you ground yourself in the inferno burning in his eyes. Such a violent, violent red. 

“Did you…” Diluc kneels before you, and you cling to him, gaping. “Did you hear him?”

The Hunter's brows furrow, and he lifts you slowly, as though scared of startling you. “Hear what?”

You don’t remember. 

Your gaze flickers back to the corpse of the Hunter. You lock eyes with his decapitated head, skull morphed into something half-wolf half-man, eyes still blown open as he stares back, frozen in horror.

He’s dead. The Hunter is dead.

Your cure failed. 

And yet, before it failed it worked, did it not? There was a moment of time where it worked, where it truly worked, and in that moment alone you imagined a Yharnam cleared of the Scourge and of the rot. And it was beautiful. 

You have to try again. You must find the cure. No matter the cost.

You don’t even realize you’re muttering it to yourself, over and over again until Diluc’s hand clasps onto your shoulder, ripping your gaze off the Hunter’s mutilated body and back to his own. 

Diluc’s words are quiet, recited more to himself than you. "You cannot save everyone."

You know, and yet.

“If I don’t, then who will?”

[moary-flowers-and-chess]

diluc vampire and hunter : B

[glassrowboat]

Vampire hunter AU (2/4)

Chapter 1 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.

The introductions you promised him had been, to say the least, brief.

Diluc's hair was still damp from the bath after he came downstairs to the sight of the messy frock you had been wearing haphazardly thrown on the back of a chair as you fill empty bottles with the contents of the cauldron, you told Diluc to get off his feet and sit down.

He acquiesced.

You barely looked back at him as you kept yourself busy with grabbing a ladle, scooping up the contents of the cauldron, and pouring it with a surprising amount of care as you made sure not to waste a single drop. Given the state of your home Diluc would have thought you would shrug off a small mess and decide to leave it until later, but here you were eyeing your process with a keen eye. The fact you were using a stack of books as a step stool to reach more of those colorful, empty bottles you had hanging from stringing ropes certainly didn't help his previous opinion when Diluc could tell they were ancient just by looking at them, but you didn't seem to mind them getting ruined by your trampling.

“Go on, then.” You said as you stepped back down. “Tell me your name.”

Diluc's mouth opened only to pause when he was stuck trying to figure out if he should give you one of the many aliases he has picked up or simply...the truth. You had welcomed him in, dressed his wounds, let him use your tub and your towels all while being gracious enough not to openly pry- much- so surely that meant a little trust was permitted. You, however, didn't appreciate his hesitance. “I won't have a complete stranger living in my home, young man. So I'll say it again: ‘tell me your name.’”

In the end he chose to share the same graciousness you've given him. “Diluc.”

“Diluc,” you repeated with your head tilting to the side. “Like diluculum. Dawn.”

Clearing his throat Diluc asked for yours. Your answer helped him shrug off his discomfort at hearing his name said aloud for the first time since he started his solitary sojourn across the nations. It left a warmth blossoming in his chest with the way you pronounce each syllable; not that he would admit to noticing it.

It left Diluc with nothing better to do than to focus on your finger currently pointed down at the familiar. “And that's Wrio. Or Wriothesley. Or-”

The dog you were pointing to snorted, cutting you off before you could call him a mutt again.

“Yes, Your Grace, too.” You patted the dog's head when Wriothesley looked like he was going to bark at you again.

You turned your attention back to Diluc. “You are familiar with what hellhounds are, yes?”

Clearly you were asking because you knew he lacked certain bits of knowledge. It was salt in the wound, really, being rubbed in as Diluc confirmed your statement, much to his own chagrin.

“To put it shortly, they're demons.”

Diluc immediately looked down at the hellhound, who was currently trying to paw at the single flipped over corner of a carpet. He, with all his fur and wagging tail, looked like the complete opposite of the image The Church had once ingrained in Diluc. There were no horns protruding from anywhere, and Wriothesley certainly wasn't walking around with his body alight with flames. Diluc could almost hear a man's teasing tone, feel an arm on his shoulder as a single eye looked at him while the words “Well, isn't that disappointing” filled the air at the sight.

Back then he would have agreed. Said something cheeky as his elbow met Kaeya's side and they would have laughed until someone snapped at them to stop and pay attention to that day's lesson. Just like how your voice pulled Diluc out of his reverie.

“In this particular instance, Wrio became a demon because he’s a murderer.” And you kept talking like nothing was wrong. “Though, he likes to joke it's because he was dating a man.”

And kept talking.

“What was his name again?” You asked.

With Wriothesley's bark, you nodded. “Right, Neuvillette.”

You continued on like that for what had to be a solid five minutes. During which Diluc learned that this “Neuvillette” is a dragon, a woman named Gold had made a dragon- if not multiple-, and that the two were not related by any capacity. All as his eyes flicked back from you to the hellhound.

This was even more confusing than when he first had to sit down in the rows of old wooden pews and listen to a man with a receding hairline talk about the price all sinners must pay one day. If you don't pray every day to show God your devotion? Hell. Sex before marriage? Eternal damnation….

No, actually, the preaching was worse.

Wiping his inexplicably sweaty palms on his borrowed pants, Diluc awkwardly interrupted your conversation. “I can't imagine you two are used to company.”

You let out a questioning “oh” before realization seemed to set in.

“Oh, right, you can only understand me. Heh. Sorry, when you live so far out of reach of everyone else, it's either talk to this one or make dinner aga-” You stopped short, eyes going wide before exclaiming "wait, dinner!”

Immediately you were running off, your skirts trailing after you as you tried to dodge around everything in your way to the kitchen. Pots and pans started banging together after you disappeared from his sight, and for a moment, Diluc looked down at Wriothesley like he was waiting for an explanation. Of course, he didn't receive one.

“She does that more often than not, doesn't she?”

The hellhound barked in response.

With another clatter (Diluc could only hope it was nothing serious), you came back into the room with three plates full of food. A stack of toast, bacon, and two eggs you had somehow managed to burn to the point the outside edges were bubbling up and tinted black was placed before him with a heavy thud. A piece of bacon seemed to flake off onto the table when you did. Below the porcelain, now with a bit of food laying on it, hid away a single stained envelope with the name Scarlett written on the back. It had signs of aging after going unsent for years, but for now, it was being used as a placemat for Diluc’s meal you were currently urging him to chow down on.

“A good meal is important for a healing body, so eat up.” You declared, giving the third plate to Wriothesley on the floor.

With the fork you had placed on the plate ready for his use, Diluc used the prongs to poke the egg for a moment. It wavered, just like the smile Diluc was wearing as it hid away behind the messy strands of his still damp hair.

Under his breath, Diluc whispered “A home cooked meal.”

“What was that?” You asked.

“Nothing. Just- Thank you.”

You flashed him a grin, and with little wrinkles forming in the corners of your eyes, you said “You're welcome, Hunter.”

Diluc's fork met the eggs again, stabbing through the slightly charred ends to avoid the nagging feeling telling Diluc how he wished you would have addressed him by his name again.

After dinner you sent him to bed with a quick pat to Diluc's shoulder and shoved what he could only guess was the potion the note was referring to earlier before you left him to his own devices downstairs with the lumpy cot.

Wriothesley followed after you, claws scratching at the wood flooring before stopping halfway to shoot Diluc a look when he uncorked the bottle with a soft pop.

By the time it was emptied, both the hellhound and the witch were gone.

That's how things settled into place for the next few days, like stones slotting together brick by brick to build something new he couldn't quite make out yet as his routine slipped into resting, sharing tea whenever you were willing to deal with his inquiries, and asking the occasional question. (Ex: why there's salt on all your windowsills).

You, apparently, didn't like to feel like you were being heckled.

Then, of course, there was the matter of sleeping. Diluc woke up when you did, no matter the time of day or night. It was that or you would deem him unfit for any moving at all and threaten to tie him to the cot for the sake of his recovery; the obvious option was to get out of bed. Besides, after the few short years he spent as a hunter always on the move, it wasn't a big adjustment to get used to. It was simply a new routine.

One that now includes you.

And the hellhound.

With nothing better to do most days Diluc was left to read from the multiple stack of books. In those moments he would run a finger over pages so old he could have sworn they would crumble to dust at the slightest touch as latin was laid bare before Diluc's eyes. Snippets were processed, certain words here and there recognized as he tried to retain every last snippet of information revealed to him.

But even an injured man gets restless. Something you seemed to pick up on as you waved Diluc off when he started pestering you too much for your liking with a “Go chop wood or something,” which led Diluc to standing outside, sweat coating his brow as the ax he was holding swung down. Its blade cut through the logs with ease as they splintered off from each other and fell to the ground with a soft thud when they met the grass right next to the slowly accumulating pile of firewood.

He had been at this for a while, long enough to have you come out of the cabin with gloves and a large wicker basket you had placed down next to the patches of turned soil. Plants were already rooted with sprigs of green leaves with a blue tint from the floating lights peeking our. Every now and then the lights would chitter to you before promptly being swat away while you tended to the garden.

Wriothesley was basking in the sun's rays cast across the front porch as Diluc approached you, a limp still in his stride from his injured leg. Surely you already knew about it, but Diluc forced himself to fix his limp regardless when he joined you under the shade being provided by a lone apple tree. During this time of year the apples were ripe for the picking, bright red and drawing in multiple flickering lights that seemed to dance around them in excitement. A few even had little bits of their peels dug into, almost like little mouths had bitten at them in hopes of getting the juice stored inside.

Without bothering to look up from the few carrots you had just pulled from the ground you said “Hello, Hunter.”

“I can help you with that.” Diluc offered.

“I take it you got tired of chopping?”

Diluc looked up at the lights, swearing he saw a tiny face in the ball of luminescence before turning his gaze from it as he crossed his arms. “Something like that.”

Another carrot was pulled and promptly tossed into the basket. “They're fairies. Loud buggers. Energetic, too, but they're denizens of the forest.”

With the few ripe vegetables already plucked, you pulled your gloves off and set them to the side. They nestled neatly against you, looking almost out of place next to your dress. Just like many of the things in your house, it looked like it had been plucked right out of the past.

With half a mind to ask for your age knowing witches could live a good few centuries without issue, Diluc knelt down next to you with a single knee pressed to the ground in his attempt to favor his one good leg.

“It's a nice day out, isn't it?” Your eyes strayed over to Wriothesley, watching the hellhound as he laid on the porch only a few feet away, taking in the sunlight, keeping him warm. Every now and then, his ears would twitch as fairies got louder. “During this time of the year, it usually is. Hopefully, it will be just as nice when you finally depart.”

“Right, when I depart.” Diluc's jaw tensed, almost locking in place when he chose to ignore the implications of your statement. At least, for now, anyway. “I haven't asked yet, but do you expect me to repay you for helping me?”

You shook your head. “How about you consider this as…you owe me a favor instead?”

You chuckled softly as Wriothesley tried to scare a fairy that came up to him off, all while Diluc became keenly aware of a heavy ache stirring in his chest right where his father's- his badge was resting. “Owe you… a favor?”

“Before you protest, how about we take a walk?”

You dusted off your skirt as you got up, making sure any bits of dirt still clinging to you were properly shaken off before starting to walk, clearly expecting him to follow. Wriothesley, on the other hand, was told to stay the moment his head started to lift up to look over at you.

This witch clearly expected people- or dogs- to obey anything she said, it seemed, and given his current predicament Diluc didn't have much choice except, to the detriment of his pride, do as she asked.

It took a moment to get back up on his feet, but Diluc quickly caught up to you as you slipped through the underbrush of the forest. A stray twig tried to catch on his pants, and another cracked under his foot as you talked.

“I think I should explain something about this place to you. I was not the one that made this place, Hunter. In fact, it was another witch.”

Looking around the forest again, the fact this place is widely known to be cursed came to mind again. “The one who could read minds?”

“No. No, not her.” You lifted a stray branch, one hanging low enough Diluc was sure it would hit him if you let it go as he ducked underneath it. “I'm talking about my Master.”

When Diluc stood to his full height once again, he was stopped short at the sight of a headstone. The original inscription was barely legible, either from age or improper technique from when it was made, leaving only indents of possible letters. The name was illegible, but there wasn't a need to stop and try to read it when you were whispering the name as you brushed off a few leaves from the stone’s surface.

“I. Ivanovna N.”

“My condolences.”

The moment Diluc's head started to bow in reverie you reached up and titled it back up with a single finger to his chin. “Don't apologize and pick your head back up.

It's not like it was your fault.”

“Still…” Diluc said, his voice trailing off. He, too, knew what it was like to lose the person who took care of you, taught you, guided you, and it was far from a feeling he wished anyone else to become acquainted with.

“I didn't show you this for an apology.” The wind blew past you both, stirring up your hair and his together in its breeze. “So, none of that ‘sorry’ business or I'll think that weary voice of yours is a sign you're coming down with a fever and send you back to bed.”

Diluc’s eyes narrowed on you and he reached up to take your hand in his own to pull it away from its grasp on his chin. He knew rest is important, and he's been giving it the time, but even he couldn't stay huddled up in bed while there were still matters to be handled. “I don't think that's necessary. I can't afford to wait around all day doing nothing.”

A smirk twitched at your lips. “Oh, there he is.”

The way you spoke led him to believe you were expecting that reaction.

“Wait..why did you say that?”

“Well, Hunter, I'm sure you're familiar with the rumors of this place, yes? I hate to be the one to break it to you, it's just that this place isn't cursed at all. It's enchanted.”

Your hand slid from his, fingers grazing against Diluc’s worn and calloused ones as you pulled away. He jolted slightly at the feeling only now realizing he had never let it go.

“You see, I've met a few of your colleagues in my time. They were all young, raring to go, full of conviction. Yet all you've done since you got here is lay around and toss a ball whenever Wriothesley comes up to you- not that he doesn't appreciate it.”

“Your point being?” Diluc asked. He was almost certain you would wave him off at any moment again, and your crypticness certainly wasn't helping that assumption.

“My point is: my late Master made this place what it is today. She enchanted it so anyone with a great, undeniable desire can find my home. Those that lack this trait are turned away and returned to the edge of the forest with a hazy memory and only a faint recollection of uneasiness.”

“She,” Diluc paused, trying to find the right words, “must have been a highly skilled witch, then. It's a praise worthy accomplishment.”

“She was.” You agreed, a hand reaching out to trace the faintest hints of an ‘I’ left in the moss covered stone. “And as for any trouble that might come to the person along the way? It's handled by the faeries in exchange for spare bits of my dinners, hence their friendliness. It's a handy trick, really, and keeps all those pesky door to door salesmen going around these days away. After all, this is my paradise lost to the masses, not theirs.”

Diluc's arms crossed when you looked up at him.

“And I think the desire that brought you here was the need for safety. I mean, you were... uh…”

“In dire straits?” Diluc offered to which you agreed.

“Unless you have any other ideas.”

His eyes met yours when you pushed the topic onto him, but the question he was asking himself strayed from what you were asking, leaving his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions.

“My goal isn't just to kill a vampire or two, but to eradicate all evil in this world. They must be purged for the sake of every normal being in this world. It's just…”

Crepus had once told him the world would never turn its back on the faithful before he died. Those words had once rang true in Diluc's heart the same as any oath, only for them to sour at the face of his father's passing. It's likely Crepus would have trusted this witch in a place like this, the promises it gave of being a so-called haven for those who needed salvation and would pat Diluc on the back on his way to the glade full of fairies and a grumpy hellhound. The only issue is: Diluc isn't his father. He wouldn't blindly jump forward again without first asking himself if he's ready to have his faith trampled over again.

“Diluc?”

The same warmth you had spurred in him before awoke again, sparking alight.

The answer was simple.

“I believe it was a desire for help.” He paused. “I need your help to become an actual Vampire Hunter, not a Paladin masquerading around with a badge.”

You hummed, letting his words settle on your mind as another gust of wind passed rustling the leaves around you. One fell from its branches, now turned orange with the coming of fall and catching along the breeze before landing in your open palm. “If that's the case, come back to me and ask again when you're fully healed, Hunter.”

Your fingers closed around the leaf as Diluc promised he would.

Despite the peaceful air he had thought you two had settled into that day, you looked far from pleased as Diluc stood before you now.

“I was hoping you would forget about this…venture of yours.”

“You were the one who said to ask again when I was healed, Miss.”

Your face scrunched up, clearly not liking having your own words thrown back at you. “Fine. Fine. I swear, making that vow about helping the people who come here to my Master was one of my biggest mistakes.”

You quickly turned on your heel, letting your heels stomp across the floor of your cottage with Wriothesley barking something at you.

“Yes, Wrio, I really would have healed him even if you hadn't pressure me into it. I'm not an animal.”

That recived another bark.

“Sorry.”

Then the kitchen door slammed shut right after you told Diluc dinner would be ready in thirty minutes.

Overall, an eventful evening.

Almost all of the trees surrounding the glade had become barren as their leaves had long since fallen to the ground to coat it in a blanket of oranges, yellows, and reds that would stir with every step you took as you walked back and forth before a straw dummy. It was tied loosely to a pike shoved into the ground with its arms held up by rope tied in haphazardly done knots Diluc couldn't help but want to go over and fix as you busied yourself with lecturing him on whatever you thought would be useful; trying to list off various facts about not only vampires, but any creature he should be wary of. You were counting them all off, each fact, each creature, on your extended fingers as you continued your pacing.

“He's trying to be a vampire hunter first and foremost, so wouldn't it be best to stick to that?” Wriothesley had asked when he pulled up a chair for you to sit yourself in.

“He needs to be fully aware of what danger he could get into, you mutt.” You shot back. The regular banter you shared with the hellhound seemingly neverending.

“So what, you're trying to make him a”- Wriothesley looked down at you as you sat down with your legs crossed- “witcher?”

The look you gave Wriothesley clearly implied you didn't like that name and Diluc’s surety of that fact was only further set in stone when you waved Wriothesley off to go into the nearby town to pick up groceries.

“Groceries...and?”

“I know what you want me to say, Wrio, but there usually isn't a good supply of fabric during this time of year when everyone is buying it all out for the coming winter.”

With Wriothesley's grumbling, you heaved out a sigh and said: “I'll figure something out. Now shoo.”

Immediately the hellhound perked up, causing Wriothesley to let go of the back of the chair he had been holding onto and walk towards the forest line with a relaxed gait. “I'll be back later, you two, so don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

It took Diluc a moment to wish Wriothesley a safe return as he told the other a simple goodbye, half expecting the two legs to once again transform into a quadrupled nature all the while.

You clapped your hands together. “Back to the point. You know how to fight, yes? As an ex Paladin, I would sure hope so. So, go on.”

The dummy you were gesturing to was still slumped over before him, just waiting to be knocked loose by a few well aimed strikes. It wouldn't be hard, especially not with the claymore Diluc summoned. Just like always, it fits into the palms of his hand perfectly and swung with an arch.

You sat nearby, watching every movement Diluc made as the sun fell.

You would be back out there again when it rose; day after day.

Combat lessons were typically in the afternoons when the sun was at its highest to combat the natural chill in the air. The few hand sewn purple shirts made of vaguely familiar fabric you had dropped in his lap and told Diluc to start wearing instead of borrowed clothes helped keep him warm, but certainly not warm enough when frost started to cling to the grass and the dummy alike.

Wriothesley didn't seem to mind the chill. In fact, he was eager to offer to spar instead when all the cold seemed to do was weigh Diluc down.

….The first time the two exchanged blows Diluc certainly wasn't expecting the dog to throw hands. That had been an awkward moment they both agreed not to talk about again after Wriothesley had finished laughing at him.

As for early in the morning? There would be lessons with you and a book laid out before his eyes as you go over the contents with him.

“And here it says that while vampire's can be affected by holy water, it only deters them. None of that banishing them to hell nonsense.”

As you spoke your finger traced the lines in an attempt to guide Diluc along with you, forcing him to stay on track even when you were leaning over him. He could feel the skirts you chose to wear today brushing against his ankle every time you moved closer to turn a page before continuing to recite the script in a steady tone, like you already knew everything it had to share.

“Can you believe such absurdity, though?” You scoffed. “Nothing in life is that easy.”

“It would certainly make my life easier if it was.”

“Oh, I bet. Although…magic sounds much the same, doesn't it? Our entire lives would sound like a novelty to those unaware of what's truly out there.” Your words rang true, coinciding with how Diluc had been only a few short years ago; naive. Even when he knew about the existence of creatures unlike human beings, Diluc had been taught they were manageable under God’s ways. That The Church would ensure the safety of all. In the end, that turned out to be nothing more than a joke. “I was much the same when I came here.”

Diluc stopped short, watching you turn to the next page. “You didn't come here with your Master?”

He could feel your hair moving, hitting against him as you shook your head. “No. Ivanovna had already settled into this place long before I ever met her. The cabin was already erected and the apple tree she planted in her late husband's honor was nothing more than a bush.”

Apple tree…you had to be talking about the same one the fairies decided was fair game in feeding their appetites. Back when he was still busying himself with chores, Diluc would take a seat under its cover and relish in the shade it provided.

“That tree is far from a bush now.”

“I know that.” You laughed. “After all, I was the one watering it and watching it grow for… what? Around five hundred years now?”

You leaned in closer to turn the page again, your finger already going up to find the first word in the text like your chest wasn't pressed to Diluc's back. “Now, will you read this part for me, Hunter?”

Clearing his throat, Diluc tried his best to read along with you, even as he was shrinking back at the slight crack riddling his voice. He’s a grown adult, not a teenager going through puberty again, but here he was trying not to look up at you even as you spoke in his ear.

“Actually…I should be calling you my student, shouldn't I?” You pondered over your question for a moment, letting it settle between you both.

“S-should I be calling you Master then?”

“Oh, no, not ever. You say that and I'll be looking around for my own teacher.” Immediately you were ready to chastise him again, that same tone he had heard almost a hundred times by now quickly registering. “Just call me….oh I don't know…”

“Miss witch?”

“That feels a little impersonal.”

“Ah..then”- Diluc paused to lick his lips- “my witch?”

Diluc was finally able to properly breathe again as you pulled away to sit across from him. Glass bottles hung between you both, swaying slightly without clicking together as they warped your expression, but even then, amusement was clear in your face. “Your witch?”

Diluc’s brows furrowed, forming a crease between them. “That's not-”

“Okay. I can work with that, my dear student.”

His head ducked down in an attempt to hide his face away in the messy curls of red hair he currently had tied up, hoping and maybe a little praying (old habits die hard) you wouldn't notice; to no avail.

“Diluc? Hey- Diluc. Pay attention.”

Your fingers snapped in front of his face, startling Diluc to the point he was jolting back as you stood over him again. He hadn't even processed you walking back to his side, but there you were lecturing him about paying attention in class instead of spacing out. You even added an “This is why I don't go into the village myself to deal with all the people there” before guiding Diluc’s head back down to the texts before him.

Months had passed like that. To the point there was emerald green grass being crushed underneath the now very battered and abused body of the straw puppet you had once upon a time pulled out of storage for him; the blades of dead brown grass a thing of the past.

“Well, that method would certainly work if you were looking for a needle in a haystack.” You kicked at the puppets head, watching it turn the other way so its nonexistent eyes could see the man who had just cut it down.

“I think a vampire could be considered as the needle here.” Diluc breathed out as he tried to catch his breath.

“The lesson from ‘Dele malam hoc': Vampires can easily blend in with humans. To the point you might not even notice the existence of one until their fangs are at your neck.”

“Exactly.”

“It seems I've taught you well.”

“Is this when you say my progress has almost brought a tear to your eye?”

“Cheeky. And no.” You rolled your eyes. “Just what kind of teachers did The Church have for you to think that would be my first reaction?”

“No, it wasn't a teacher.” Diluc’s weapon met a makeshift weapon rack as it slotted into a secure position. He watched it glint in the sun as he spoke. “It's something a fellow student I used to know would have said.”

His phrasing had your eyes narrowing on him, prompting an explanation from Diluc. “It's been a while since I first arrived here, so I used to know a lot of people.”

A half truth, but it satisfied you nonetheless.

“Well, you'll have a chance to catch up with them now that you're planning to leave the glade.”

“I suppose I will.”

Standing off to the side with an arm hang hanging loosely by your side and the other tucked against your chest, you said something Diluc couldn't pick up, prompting him to ask you to repeat yourself.

“Nevermind that. Instead, are you sure you're ready to leave?”

“I'm certain. Someone has to be out there to handle these monsters running around daring to lay their hands on people. As long as The Church won't, I will.”

“So resolute.” Your gaze went from him to the spot in the grass you had once found Diluc. There wasn't a single visible drop of blood left by now as it had all been washed away by the rain. There was nothing to indicate what had happened, but the dirt still nourished off of it nonetheless. “Some would even call you needlessly stubborn.”

“I know someone who would.”

“That fellow student of yours again?”

“No.” Diluc shook his head “You.”

“Ah…looks like you caught me red-handed. Not that I'm happy about it.”

Diluc chuckled, agreeing with you.

“Say, dear student of mine?” After a moment, your eyes tore away from the spot to land on him. “Stay a few more days. Please? After all, you should depart after a giant feast and share drinks. We can even make that...peculiar meal you like so much with the cheese and steak.”

Please, you asked. After all the times you had given him an order and expected Diluc to follow it without delay or lorded the fact you still hadn't cashed in that favor yet over his head when Diluc was being a bit too set in his ways for your liking, you were imploring him.

Diluc's hand fell away from the hilt of his claymore to place it over his chest. Under his fingers, he could feel each heavy thud of his heart. “Of course I will. I owe you that much.”

“Good. I wasn't actually planning to give you a choice.” You waved towards the puppet, signaling Diluc to pick up his weapon and get back to training for what could possibly be the last time. “Now, continue.”

He didn't get a chance to say even an “Okay” before you were back inside, the front door swinging shut behind you.

After a few hours Diluc followed you in with a towel pressed up against his forehead to wipe off the healthy layer of sweat coating his skin only to be greeted by the sight of you picking through all the spices you currently had and making a grocery list. Smoked paprika was scrawled out under your quill.

The same scent filled the cabin a few days later, along with steak, buttery mashed potatoes, and wine. Diluc could only guess you splurged on it.

The drinks poured.

The food was enjoyed

Wriothesley threw his arm around Diluc's shoulder at one point and told him to “Try and keep your guard up so you don't come back to us a bloody mess, alright?”

You promptly told Wriothesley to stop with the nonsense.

Dessert, talking, the lights slowly turning on as night approached, and then came the time for Diluc to pick up the insubstantially light bag he packed. After all, he couldn't afford to be weighed down. Not much, anyway. You had double-checked earlier, slipping in the leftovers from tonight's meal to assure yourself he would have something to eat so Diluc would leave the containers be. Even if they dug the strap of his bag into his shoulder just a bit more than usual.

It shifted as Diluc stepped outside into the cold air, a red jacket keeping him warm. Just like almost everything else on him, it was a gift from you. It was flexible but sturdy, even with the choker with a single ruby gem in the center digging into Diluc's neck- Apparently Wriothesley had picked it out.

He stopped to simply take in the glade, letting its air pierce his lungs with a cold sting.

“And you're sure you're all set?” Came from behind him, just barely loud enough to hear over the chittering this clearing was always filled with.

“I believe you've asked me that already.”

“Double checking is hardly a sin.” You huffed. You were still acting a little off since your first glass of wine, walking into things just a bit more often than usual and staring off into space like there was something you were gazing at. The same wine lingered on his own tongue, leaving an odd feeling in Diluc's mouth from when you shared your glass. At the time, you were giggling away like nothing was wrong, a stark contrast to the frown you were currently sporting. “So, leaving under the cover of the night, huh?”

“It's more efficient this way. I'll have to get used to being awake at night again or I'll miss the prime hunting hours for vampires. They're always waiting to strike.”

“I guess I was wrong about you leaving on a bright sunny day then. Color me surprised. Or…” Your fingers tapped on the box you were holding, drawing his attention to it. It was resting on the dining table earlier, wrapped up and topped with a neat bow. He hadn't asked about it then, but now you're presenting to Diluc like it's his for the taking.

“This isn't what you wanted to talk about, is it?”

You were making that clear as you were basically trying to shove what you were holding into his hands. “Not necessarily. This, though? Yes.”

Diluc's eyes went back down to the box, trying to avoid the look you were giving that screamed he was being, as you liked to call it, edgy again. “You have already done so much and-”

“The proper response is a thank you.”

“But-”

“No, none of that. Just open it.”

With your assurance, Diluc pulled on the bow. It came undone with one simple tug flowing in the air as it fell to the side when the lid was opened to reveal multiple golden gadgets with a soft luster to them. In their reflection, Diluc met himself, now bearing a familiar determination reigniting with assurity rather than his need for revenge.

“They're made by Alice, a skilled craftsman. I trust they're made to the best of her ability, so I won't say ‘I hope they aid you out there, in the human world’, because I know they will.” As you talked, you fiddled with a strand of hair, tucking it and untuckling it from behind your ear. “You know, convincing her to make them was quite the task. What, with my relationship with the Hexenzirkel being as strained as it is…well, never mind that.”

Reaching over, the box still in his other hand, Diluc pushed the strand back behind your ear again. “Thank you.”

“I don't want a thank you. I just wanted you to stop relying on that Evil Eye so much. But if you really want to thank me, I need you to say something else.”

“And that is?”

“A vow. I made one under the guidance of my Master before she passed on, and now it's time for you to make one as well- it’s different from mine, but the principle is the same. More or less.” One of your eyes closed slightly, forming wrinkles in the corner of your eye as his hand fell from the strands of hair to your cheek. “Promise me you will take care of those who need you, unconditionally. You will be the one to purge the doubts from people's minds when it comes to their safety as you become the dawn you were named after. Nestle those people away from the evils of this world until they're purged, my dear student.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Then consider us even. No more favor, no more…needing to be here. Just go accomplish your goal, Diluc.”

“Then, it's time for you to witness my resolve.”

A heat seemed to sear into his hand as Diluc pulled away. It left his fingers twitching, aching to soothe the burn with the cool touch of your skin only to be denied as he placed the box down and took out what he deemed useful. You were giving him a stink eye the entire time Diluc was attaching the golden items to his belt; no doubt you wanted him to take it all.

The same tools shined in the moonlight with every step he took towards the forest's edge. A fairy, glimmering as brightly as ever, floated past him. Already, she was set to lead him through the barrier of the enchantment to the safety of the nearby village. It would be a quiet night for them to the with a tavern and a single inn hoping to welcome anyone into its doors all while Diluc would be slinking through the shadows of their alleys with ease until the sun rises; even when it crests the sky bringing light across these plagued land he wouldn't sleep, not when Diluc has a place in mind for where to start.

It seems, after all the time he's spent avoiding it, there was no option left but to go back home.

The fairy floated past Diluc's head, its blue light coating the endless rows of mangled tree trunks with an unnatural hue as he left this newfound home for another day after looking back at you one last time.

Just like always, you were beautiful as ever waiting up there with the front door propped open, almost like you were waiting to welcome Diluc in again as he walked away.

Your elbow met the salt covered window sill of your bedroom as you sat down to stare up at the full moon, taking in each crater and the hollow smile the floating rock seemed to wear. The cushions below you seems to breathe out dust as you sat down, clearly in need of some airing out and a good whack or two to release every grinded up herb and hellhound dandruff it has collected throughout the years, but that was a task for later as you bathed in the silvery moonlight.

Usually you would be hovering over your cauldron trying to throw a bunch of ingredients into the bubbling pot while you take advantage of the natural magic in the air werewolves barked at as they run around under the sky you both shared, but the idea of picking up your mortar and pestle lacked its regular appeal tonight.

With nothing else to do, you leaned back against the window seat to allow Wriothesley room as he jumped up to join you. His head fell to your lap easily, and you moved to pet his furry head without a second thought. This is just how things used to be. Everything was back to normal.

Gone were the clings of a sword as it met a straw puppet you had gone out of your way to stitch up for him again and again. At this point, you had fixed it so many times it looked like a warped copy of what it once was, but you still were proud of it nonetheless. After all, it served its purpose well.

There was currently a tear in it you would have to fix for when- if- Diluc came back and took to swinging that behemoth of a claymore around again.

The hellhound in your lap, despite the fact he's far too big for this behavior, nudged at your hand as your petting faltered. “Are you thinking about how you made a mistake not telling Diluc he’s free to come back whenever he pleases?”

Roughly tugging at his fluffy ear, you tell Wriothesley to shut up, and just because he has a good nose, it doesn't mean he can stick it in everyone else's business.

Wrio drawled out a long “sure” in response before you two fell back into the same old routine, but for some reason you just couldn't get used to it.

You blamed it on the few items Diluc left behind now resting on your work table. A shame, really, you paid good money for them. They ought to be put to use instead of gathering dust like everything else in your house; they would keep him safe in this idiotic journey of his if nothing else.

“Wrio,” you said,” tell me, how long do humans live again?”

“Seventy, maybe eighty, years. Depends on the person, really.” He grumbled, clearly not happy with your harsh treatment.

“And how long do human vampire hunters tend to live?”

Wriothesley didn't answer you, only letting the unspoken words fill you with an almost choking sense of dread. Through all your years of your long, long life you couldn't ever recall a time when silence was so loud. Not even as a wolf howled in the distance, sending shivers down your spine.

The feeling urged you into doing your best to force out a laugh you managed a simple “Master would have liked him.”

That was your one reverie from the silence that returned now that your student was gone.

[yanderehsr]

Had to make another Masterlist because each one can only hold 100 links

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Clingy behaviour, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Murder, Violence

Shenhe Headcanons

Breaking up with Childe

Jing Yuan, Blade, Luocha and Caelus with Noelle reader

Ayato, Itto and Kafka with a reader who confesses then runs away Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Blade, Kafka and Silver Wolf with attention needy vampire

March 7th, Himeko and Dan Heng with reader that has Silver Wolf powers

Breaking up with Himeko

Lyney, Freminet and Lynette with mermaid reader Part 2

Aether, Kafka and Venti with reader who refuses to eat

Jing Yuan, Dan Heng and Blade with Nilou reader

Blade, Kafka and Silver Wolf with a baker reader

How Silver Wolf, Blade and Kafka celebrate your birthday

Zhongli with an adeptus reader

Neuvillette with a Kafka reader Part 2

Nanook, Imbibitor Lunae and Dan Heng with flirty reader

Tingyun, Navia and Yoimiya with chubby reader

Tighnari, Venti, Freminet and Wanderer with reader who likes taller people

How Himeko will get reader dependant on her

Furina with a clingy reader

Kafka, Hu Tao, Yae Miko and Silver Wolf with a reader who wants a collar with their name on it

Raiden Ei, Furina and Lumine with a reader who makes plushies Part 2

Columbina, Arlecchino and Jing Yuan with a foxian reader

Breaking up with Natasha

Kokomi with a detective reader

Jing Yuan and Luocha fighting over reader

Himeko, Silver Wolf, Stelle and Bronya with Lumine reader who has a breakdown

Furina with willing reader

Breaking up with Diluc

Arlecchino and Kafka with weak reader

Breaking up with Wriothesley

Witch Natasha with Princess reader

Aether, Venti and Kafka with a sick darling

Stelle, Lumine and Paimon with ghost child reader

Zhongli, Dottore, Neuvillette and Tighnari with a reader who doesn't want children

Arlecchino, Natasha, Himeko and Kafka with a reader who dies

Svarog, Luka and Blade with Klee reader Part 2

Blade, Jing Yuan and Topaz with Ghost catcher reader

Asta with Himeko's younger sister reader

Breaking up with Hu Tao, Lyney and Lynette

Kafka and Silver Wolf convincing reader to join Stellaron Hunters

Imbibitor Lunae, Venti and Aether trying to get reader back after a break up Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Venti, Aether and Wriothesley with an escaped reader

Breaking up with Abyss Prince Aether

Natasha, Yukong and Topaz with a Stellaron Hunter reader

Jingliu, Jing Yuan, Blade and Imbibitor Lunae with a reader who looks like Baiheng

Breaking up with Kazuha and Lisa

Yandere headcanons about Hajime Hinata and Kokichi Ouma

Alhaitham, Signora, Jingliu and Hubert with reader who thinks they are unhappy

Marianne with an outgoing reader

Arlan when his partner gets injured

Yandere Headcannons about Mikan Tsumiki

Wishing happy birthday to Kazuha

March 7th, Stelle, Seele and Tingyun when reader takes a hit meant for them

Albedo fic: Attempt 7497

Bennett, Keqing and Lynx when no one comes to your birthday party

Yandere headcanons about Ayaka

Claude and Dimitri with a reader who's loved one just passed away

Sugar mommy Topaz when you get tired of her being your sugar mommy

Blade, Caelus, Kokichi Ouma and Shuichi Saihara with an idol reader

The power imbalance between reader and Yukong

Sylvain with a fiance reader who grows apart from him

Topaz, Serval and Cocolia with an autistic reader

Blade, Jing Yuan and Luocha with a reader who dies by protecting them

Nagito Komaeda, Junko Enoshima and K1-b0 with an evil reader

Yandere headcanons about Doc

Breaking up with Freminet and Navia

Yandere headcanons about Bernadetta

Yandere headcanons about Argenti

Jing Yuan with a burnt out reader

Jean, Eula and Amber with a knight of favonius reader who wants to quit

Breaking up with Ruan Mei

Comforting Huohuo

Jing Yuan and Yanqing leashing their darling

Yandere headcanons about Dr. Ratio

Ruan Mei, Edelgard, Junko Enoshima and Cocolia, who is most likely to break you

Furina and Hu Tao comforting reader after a break up

Dimitri meeting reader at the goddess tower

Yandere headcanons about Aventurine

Kafka if Elio asked her to kill reader

Yandere headcanons about Firefly

Yandere headcanons about Thoma

Breaking up with Furina and Eula

Paimon reader: Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Yandere headcanons about Black Swan

Hope you'll enjoy😄

[brynn-lear]

"SALUTATIONS, I am Cranberry N.V. Tilde's editor. I'll be delighted to assist you in browsing their works."

⌜⟡⌟ TABLE OF CONTENTS ⌜⟡⌟ i. Teyvat Times [Genshin Impact] ii. Velvet Rumors [Persona Series] iii. The Blue Sea Star [Honkai Star Rail] iv. Fodlan Winds [Fire Emblem, to be added] v. Specials [original content, to be added]

【i.】 Teyvat Times

✧ When The Cypress Tree Wilts ✧ Yan!Kamisato Ayato Fanfic Kamisato Ayato, the sole survivor of Teyvat, struggles to cope with grief. He finds solace in the company of a fellow survivor, (Y/n), on the Astral Express. Although the two came from different universes, with him being a fictional character on (Y/n)'s end, he had grown fond of them. Perhaps too fond for Mister Yang's liking. He has seen this story played out once already. 𓂂 Read here

✦ His Dog ✦ Dottore Drabble "You're 0.0035 seconds late. Do better." 𓂂 Read here

✧ Grievances ✧ Yan!Zhongli Comic "Why..." 𓂂 See here

✦ Papers, Please ✦ Thoma Angst Fic Exploring the possibility that the resistance failed, Inazuma's borders became stricter than ever before. Thoma begs the inspector to let (Y/n) in last minute, but it's a far more challenging ordeal for a "fixer" 𓂂 Read here

✧ "So I could've told her-" ✧ Yan!Neuvillette Comic Regency yandere au where Neuvillette doesn't know how to express his affections properly since childhood 𓂂 See here

✦ Little Mermaid ✦ Yan!Al Haitham Comic Aphotic: sea witch grants you a dangerous wish. it affects your lover. 𓂂 See here

✧ Pantomime of the Night ✧ Yan!Arlecchino Fancomic Comic inspired by a yandere vampire!arle fic written by harmonysanreads 𓂂 See here

✦ Capitano's So-Called Liability ✦ Yan!Capitano Series You, cursed to live as an elderly woman after losing a bet to Alice, decided to live your best life by watching thrills as the assistant of the most powerful man in Teyvat: Capitano. However, it seems that with you, he would gladly walk at a slower pace. (#Capitano's So-Called Liability, I'll make a proper masterlist later.) 𓂂 Chapter 1 (Start), 𓂂 Comic 1𓂂 HCs 1

✧ "Ship" In A Bottle ✦ Diluc Drabble Diluc doesn't seem to like the ex-pirate who visits Angel's Share all that much, but he'll change his mind soon enough. 𓂂 Read here

✦ Paging Dr. Zandik ✦ Yan!Dottore Drabble A House MD au because I love House MD it's my childhood. 𓂂 Read here

✧ Inequitable Ransom ✦ Yandere!Kaveh Comic You made a grievous error, thinking that kidnapping the Light of the Kshrawerar would land you some easy money. For the past months, you've done nothing but befriend and lower his guard. The truth, however, was far more depressing than you thought. You've heard this line a million times before, but it's true... The hunter can become the hunted 𓂂 See here

✦ Learning Fear ✦ Yan!Dottore/Agent!Reader Drabble "Agent Without Fear". 𓂂 Read here

【ii.】 Velvet Rumors

✧ A Tasteless Cup ✧ Yan!Akira Kurusu Fanfic After the destruction of your previous reality, you and Akira Kurusu landed in Teyvat. In an effort to stay afloat, Akira had set up a book café in Mondstadt alongside you. However, is this the true flavor of "Freedom"? 𓂂 Read here

【iii.】 The Blue Sea Star

✧ WhoDrankIt ✧ Yandere Various!H:SR OTOME GAME!!! You (name changeable) are a hardworking and full-pledged human cafe owner in Penacony City. Your Dreamjolt Cafe has been a go-to for residents and tourists alike. But your loved ones' lives took a sharp turn for the worst when you decided to take a much-needed vacation back to your homeland, Perlas. While your family eagerly awaited your arrival, you disappeared en route. Where did you go? How did this happen? Who did this? Was it... (Tap to learn more) 𓂂 The Original Comic 𓂂 The Otome Game 1.0 Beta Link

✦ If You Were Church... ✦ Yan!Sunday Art "I'll get on my knees." 𓂂 See here

✧ The Lovely Miss Sparkle! ✧ Sparkle Sketches Come take a look! In 5... 4... 3... 2... 𓂂 See here

✦ He Changed Himself For You... ✦ Yan!Gallagher Comic Gallagher knows more about you than he knows himself. And if he could just mold himself to be your type... 𓂂 See here

✧ The Dog Days Are Over ✧ Gallagher Sketches Just a place for me to dump general Gallagher art sketches 𓂂 See here

✦ A Happy Farm Life ✦ Yandere Dog!Gallagher HCs & Sketches yandere half-dog!Gallagher and forgetful farmer!reader au collection. 𓂂 See here, 2

✧ GALLAGHER PROPAGANDA ✧ Yan!Gallagher HCs He had to win, okay- 𓂂 Read here

✦ I Am The Righteous Hand Of God. ✦ Sunday & Gallagher Animatic I am the devil that you forgot. 𓂂 See here

✧ Don't Be Foolish ✧ Yandere Emanator!Dr. Ratio Comic Don't make me worry, again. 𓂂 See here

✦ Nah Bro We MILKIN' ✦ Yandere Dog!Gallagher Drabbles & Sketches I swore I made this as a joke. 𓂂 See here

✧ Family Matters ✧ Gallagher/RobinHill Drabble Robin keeps getting pestered by your older brother, Sunday. 𓂂 Read here

✦ Holding A Wedding On Top Of His Funeral ✦ Yandere Rancher!Gallagher & Yandere Cowboy!Boothill Art Yandere rancher!Gallagher vs Yandere cowboy!Boothill over a mail order bride!reader fic when? When I'm done with the event probably- 𓂂 See here

✧ Interactions ✧ Yandere!Boothill w/ Speckled Drabble Don't drink with Boothill. 𓂂 Read here

✦ Prime Minister's Child ✦ Assassin!Boothill vs Bodyguard!Argenti Concept The amount of boothill i'm putting in this masterlist is lowkey funny ngl 𓂂 Read here

✧ Citrus Hands ✧ Sunday Drabble Ask him to peel oranges. Trust me. 𓂂 Read here

✦ Daily Respite ✦ Sunday Drabble Potato chips. 𓂂 Read here

【iv.】 Fodlan Winds

✧ “Come on, teach. Don't make me delete your saves.” ✧ Yan!Claude Von Riegan Comic He knows you're playing. But why aren't you choosing Golden Deer...? 𓂂 See here

【v.】 Specials

✧ Perforate and Permeate ✧ Yan!Illumi Zoldyck Comic based on teabutmakeitazure's fic

Red flags start appearing in the form of odd piercings on taxi drivers. The feeling of something horribly off surrounds you, but in the end, some people are always powerless, aren't they?

𓂂 See here

"If you are looking for Ms. Lear's personal journals instead, please follow me."

[glow-in-the-night]

Two Can Keep a Secret

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Diluc/Venti

Important Tags: vampire/vampire hunter, slow burn, eventual smut (not yet written), ragbros, kaebedo as a side ship, vampire typical violence, canon time period and setting with vampires added and changes to the lore

Currently 17k words, WIP

"Have you been… for the entire time I've known you, have you…" Diluc couldn't seem to get the words out, his hand shaking. He likely looked pathetic as a hunter at this moment, but he had to know. Venti offered a sad smile, one that was not comforting in the least. "I've been a vampire since long before you were even born."   Diluc Ragnvindr never had an issue with ending vampires’ lives. They were parasites, monsters who only existed to cause harm to others. At least, that was all he thought of them until it was someone he knew. After the fateful encounter, Diluc finds himself unable to relay the events out loud, so it is up to him alone to put an end to this vampire’s existence.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Trick or Treat!

-> the air is deathly still. you can swear your walls shake and untouched doorknobs twist. it's that time of year again... yep. another event to celebrate all hallows eve!

-> how the event works...

the trick or treat event will have a total of nineteen stories originating from my own ideas, but people can also send in their requests until october 8th! please do not request anything beyond this date or those requests will be saved until the next time asks are open! nsfw requests are open, but only for people who have 18+ in their bio!

this is an x reader event, and not a character x character event. no exceptions will be made. requests must also follow my rules.

all potential characters for asks will be listed below, and all characters will be written with yandere or darkfic in mind unless stated otherwise.

you can choose up to three characters, separate or otherwise! if you do not have a concept for your character, i will just do my own concept with them!

-> potential characters...

jujutsu kaisen - gojo satoru, geto suguru, mahito, sukuna ryomen, nanami kento, mei mei, megumi fushiguro, yuji itadori, toji fushigoro

hunter x hunter - chrollo lucilfer, nobunaga hazama, feitan portor, machi komacine, hisoka morrow, phinks magcub, shalnark, franklin bordeau, shizuku murasaki, pakunoda, bonolenov, uvogin, kurapika, illumi zoldyck, pariston hill

genshin impact - scaramouche/wanderer, zhongli, albedo, xiao, eula, raiden shogun, kazuha, childe, cyno, alhaitham, kaveh, diluc, kaeya, kamisato ayato, arlecchino, columbina, capitano, dottore, pantalone, beidou

honkai: star rail - kafka, blade, dan heng/imbibitor lunae, aventurine, dr. ratio, jing yuan, sunday, black swan, topaz, jade, ruan mei, serval, boothill, argenti

twisted wonderland - malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge, leona kingscholar, jade leech, floyd leech, azul ashengrotto, riddle rosehearts, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, rook hunt, rollo flamm, idia shround, kalim al-asim, silver, sebek zigvolt, neige leblanche, che'nya, ace trappola, deuce space, cater diamond, trey clover, ruggie bucchi, jack howl, epel felmier

other fandoms in my fandom list (on pinned post) can be included as well!

-> examples of requests include...

yan blade + body motification eula + cute date night yan chrollo + amnesiac reader

-> planned stories...

inside god crawls the devil - yan (demon) chrollo x f (guardian angel) reader

love letters - yan (college au) chrollo x f reader (non-con)

black and blue - yan blade x gn reader

again - yan (general) blade x gn reader

magia - yan albedo x gn reader

artistic contributions - yan feitan x f reader x yan phinks (non-con)

holiness consumes rising flames - yan (fake archon) scaramouche x gn reader

a sinning savior - yan geto x f reader x yan gojo

solace in you - yan nobunaga x f reader

the drowning dove and the fish in a birdcage - yan dr. ratio x gn reader x yan aventurine

the tragedy of rage - yan shigaraki x f reader

so close, yet so far - yan dabi x f reader

grounds of worship - yan sunday x gn reader

the weight of the world - yan alhaitham x gn reader

pulling into the tide - yan nanami x f reader

a rose by any other name would be just as sweet - yan (vampire) diluc x f reader

watching from the outside - yan overhaul x f reader

one last time - yan (archon) childe x gn (knight) reader

stuck replaying the memory - yan aventurine x gn (avgin) reader

[what-aboutno]

I think we should talk about monster hunter Diluc x werewolf Wriothesley x vampire Childe. Diluc tries to kill them for a bounty only to get caught. It begins this back and forth between the three of them until Diluc realises he's fallen in love with the pair

After Diluc realises he's in love he tries to kill them so he wouldn't have to deal with these feelings.

The angst route would be he finally succeeds and he's by himself again... He absolutely thought those feelings would die but he only felt regret. Diluc definitely cried afterwards when it fully hit him what he had done. He wished the pair fought back more, went against him in anyway so it was all justified but instead they let him do it.

The fluff route they stop him and question him only for Diluc to confess his love

"Was it all an act? To get close and-"

"No! I love you okay?"

"..."

"I didn't mean that- I uh need to go"

They actually cornered him until he had no way of escaping so Diluc panicked. I imagine he'd try to run away after that but either he gets stopped right there or they other two let him run off and find him later

[javiersprincess]

i have too many aus Lamb 😩

like even Diluc alone has a vampire au, a vampire hunter au (where im the hunter!), a regency au, a modern romcom au……skidicjxjxjdj it’s just lots of fun!! ♡

ITS SO FUN !!!!! like w javierlamb alone i have 3 fleshed out self ships and i have sooo many aus w bladelamb and weltlamb too !

[poisonf0rest]

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐬

art by 0101xzz

You can’t stop hearing their voices.

At first, you figured the sounds were coming from the beast-infected streets or that perhaps they were mere auditory hallucinations from your fatigue- but after several days of those whispers shifting behind your temples, you realized it must be something more. Like the memories of Lawrence and like the strange dreams of the queen in the frozen, forsaken castle, these new voices feel as though they echo straight from your mind. The voices were both yours and not. 

But perhaps the word voices gave them too much credit. 

Often there are words, yes. But far more frequently they simply feel like disjointed static, like you are underwater while someone is trying to whisper in your ear. And sometimes they’re not words at all, rather strange sounds and sensations that you can’t even begin to comprehend. Not with human language, at least. 

From a chorus of moans in a frequency so low they rattle your skull to the sound of teeth dragging against ribs, tick, tick, ticking down each bone, each sound haunts you long after your mind goes silent. 

You think you might be going insane. 

You think that perhaps you have been this entire time.

So, you choose to forgo sleep yet again— you prefer not to sleep now, sleep brings the dreams and the dreams last longer each time— obsessing over the cure that is just out of reach. You are sure of it. 

Tonight you have already smoked through two rolls of crushed dreamroot, a purple haze clouding your lab, the suppressant dulling your headache while giving you enough energy to press onwards, driven mad with deliriousness and ambition. A toxic mixture, to be sure, and yet one that is unavoidable to any great scientist. Alas, just as the Church and the pursuit of the truth do not make the best of bedfellows, nor do science and sanity.

You shuffle around hundreds of blood samples– one from every patient you’ve ever treated– delicately picking two slides up so as to not mess up their dried stains: one from Vicar Amelia, one from Diluc. 

Combining the recent patterns in your readings and the evidence before you, you’ve come to an understanding of what made the Vileblood lineage immune to the Beastly Scourge: their blood. 

Slotting a new slide of blood under a microscope, you overlap it with one containing the Beastly Scourge. The immortal nature of Vileblood cells means they are able to naturally create an antibody that, unlike the typical antibodies in our human immune system, is self-rejuvenating. Suppose the Vileblood cell’s natural resilience is accepted and adopted into a human host’s immune system. In that case, the host can produce Vileblood antibodies– antibodies that can finally withstand the cancerous nature of the Beastly Scourge. 

Twisting the knob of the microscope to 400x, you begin to count the individual cells in Diluc’s blood sample, healthy red blood cells surrounded with warping black spots, large and dark purple due to the stain you applied, almost parasitic in the way they squirm and warp even outside their host body. Viruses of the Beastly Scourge, no doubt. 

This means by first conditioning cultures of Vileblood antibodies to become resistant to the Beastly Scourge, you can inject the newly evolved hybrid antigen cells into human patients, allowing their bodies to naturally replicate Vileblood cells, granting them immunity from Beasthood so long as those immortal cells continued to proliferate. 

And considering all the research you’ve done on the self-rejuvenating nature of the Vileblood cells, they should never cease to duplicate and repair themselves, even with the Beastly Scourge eating away at them. 

That’s what went wrong with the Hunter in the clinic- you failed to assimilate the Vileblood antigens with the virus, causing them to rupture and fail to regenerate in the Hunter, only prolonging the state as his body fluctuated from cursed and not. 

You need the cells to stabilize first, then you can inject the cure. 

It will work, then. It must.

But what if the host rejected the altered Vileblood antigens upon injection again? What if the Vileblood cells overtook the human ones entirely and consumed their host? If the host’s immune system simply reverted the new antigens? Then your patient would likely die and you’d be thrust back to square zero all over again, hope dashed across your clinic stairs as it bleeds out before you.

Or worse, what if the Vileblood antigens acted as catalysts for a new strain of Beasthood? 

After all, was this not the exact process the Healing Church attempted so long ago? 

Slamming your hands onto the table, the rattle of vials shriek along to your scream, “Why, why does everything have to circle back around to that damned church!” 

Through the haze of the dreamroot you glare at the journal of Laurence, The First Vicar, hoping he can feel your wrath through the pages and down to whatever hell he’s burning in now. It sits, half-buried underneath your notes, calling you to touch it again, to look back into its past. To make the same mistakes as he did. 

You don’t dare step closer. 

The Healing Church discovered that the Beastly Scourge was a bloodborne disease, some sort of mutation in the red blood cells of humans that proliferated at an unearthly accelerated rate until it killed off any and all remaining healthy cells. And miraculously, they found the cure-all with blood transfusion.

But if the Healing Church already knew this, why didn’t they question the failure rate of the blood transfusions? The purpose of blood ministrations and vials was to provide healthy blood, but where did they find such a thing? Surely human blood could not cure ailments and seal wounds. And you were the first to discover the natural antigen of Vampyr blood as a potential cure. So then what blood has the Healing Church been giving the people of Yharnam?

That accused saying comes back to you again: 

Fear the Old Blood. 

Seek the Old Blood. 

Which is it? Was this Old Blood a cure, a method of halting and reversing the mutation? Or was it the cause? Saints, it feels as though you’ve been running in circles over your own corpse. 

Fear it? 

You refocus the microscope lens. Unlike Vicar Amelia’s cells, which divided and burst even in their decaying state, Diluc’s seemed to be stabilized. You recognized the distorted inky blood cells of the Scourge among his healthy ones, and yet they only trembled in place, as if physically restrained and unable to proliferate. 

Seek it?

Perhaps this revered Old Blood contained a more potent antigen than even the Vilebloods, one that not only processed the famed healing powers that travelers from far and wide sought but also an antigen that stops the Scourge? The healing properties of this Old Blood were the reason the Church has risen to such a position of power in the first place. 

In that case, your hypothesis would be wrong, and Diluc’s natural resistance would be attributed to the rations of Old Blood given by the church, not to his Vileblood heritage. 

No. 

The Church Hunters aren’t immune to the Beastly Scourge. It was only a matter of time until they too succumbed to the disease. You’ve seen it over and over again, like they were being poisoned. Like they were addicted. 

You think back to Amelia, how she was covered in blood before she transformed into that lupine monster. She was covered in blood… as though she had doused herself in it. As though she were addicted, drunk on it. 

The Blood that heals all illness, the Blood the world thinks is holy, the Blood that is more intoxicating than even the finest of wines.

So then this Old Blood— the blood administered by the Healing Church— must be the root of the Scourge. 

The Healing Church was addicting the entirety of Yharnam on a poisoned, corrupted blood. 

They too had naively believed that this all-powerful Old Blood was the solution to all human sickness and suffering, and in reward for their arrogance, they received the curse of the Beastly Scourge. 

Could you handle the weight of setting yet another curse upon mankind, twisting fate like some sort of corrupt deity?

Could you handle the weight of becoming a god?

Your head spins, a thousand thoughts and a hundred voices, and a dozen eyes staring, all at once. They are listening. Waiting.

"Who?"

You jolt, startled by the echo of your own voice. There is no one in the lab with you. 

A wave of exhaustion hits you, but don't think you could sleep even if you tried. Instead, you look back at the microscope.

Moonlight drifts through the window and with a shift in the clouds, it douses you and the microscope in a silver fog as the air thickens with an uncanny stillness. And then, between the light and shadow, something moves. 

There, in the center of the blood sample, something unseen shifts. Squirming, it coils with unnoticeable ripples, and at first you can only see it through omission- see its outline through how it writhes and eats away at the healthy cells in the sample. 

But the moonlight flickers, like a candle blown out, and as it disappears so does the safety of sight and sanity. Emerging from the blood is a creature beyond human perception, a being that defies the laws of nature and reason, seeping into the fabric of reality itself as a mass of tentacles and unblinking eyes, hungry as they devour the remaining healthy cells. It’s eating away at the antigens, leaving dark sprouts of eyes and teeth in its wake. Cannibalizing the host, multiplying itself.

The Scourge. 

Something else is watching.

Watching you from the inside out, their voices echo louder than your own as your skull rattles and hands quake, the sample nearly alive as it squirms and writhes in the glass. 

And then, you see them.

In every sample, every vial of blood you’ve ever collected, squirms and writhes a million beings beyond description, a horror of the gods themselves. As the moonlight shifts, so do the monsters, emerging from the blood as it latches into your arm with the sting of a thousand needles, each suction-cup cavity blinking up at you as it twists further and further up your arm.

It is not a monster, you realize, nor a god.

It is a parasite.

It is the source of the disease.

And it's already in your blood. Your blood, and every other person in Yharnam, a curse marked in blood and forever hungry, forever waiting until it feeds enough to make itself seen. How, why do you see them now? Was it your contact with the Old Blood? Greed? Knowledge? 

Or perhaps it was something inevitable, something given at birth and granted during the sweet release of death. 

The parasite- the Beastly Scourge, the curse, the scourge of mankind- now looms over you, making you tremble with the silent fear only a god could grant. A fear so true it could be worship.

A flood of haunting memories sweeps over your consciousness, ancient recollections that do not belong to you as you fall through the sky, landing atop a lake with no surface and no bottom. Something screams inside your mind, the roar of the ocean and the cry of a child, and as you stare into Its thousands of unblinking eyes the clinic falls apart before you until you stand in open nothingness with It. 

Not It- Her. And with the realization, something glitches in your perception. Beyond the horror, you could see her grace, the fleeting beauty of a bride without the promise of happiness. A wedding dress, crafted with gorgeous cascades of lace and silk, a purer white than the moon itself, rippling as though she walked on water. And yet her cries were deafening. Shackled, she watches the moon bleed as She prays with clasped hands, every step ringing with not the toll of wedding bells but the clang of chains, her eyes faded and red with unshed tears. 

The front of the wedding dress, from her abdomen down, was doused in black blood. 

And the moon drowns itself red.

She cries, and you cry along with Her, a grief so deep you could hardly stand. They took something from Her, they forced it upon her and ripped it from Her womb. A vow broken, a curse written. 

You kneel upon the lake’s shore, unmoving as She turns to you, sunken face frozen in a wail, eyes and lips nothing but shadowed pits reminiscent of the faceless statues littered underneath the Grand Cathedral. Something inhuman. Something stolen. Something cursed. 

Then, She was gone, as if a switch was flipped in your brain and you forgot how to be afraid. 

You heave, gasping, thrust underwater and back to your lab. By the time you try to breathe in again, the parasite escapes the vial in your palm, and injects itself inside you. Plunging down your throat, up your nose, into your ears and eyes as you scream until the world turns sticky and black with its rotten sludge. 

Be not afraid. 

Let not the fear of the unknown quell the fire of revelation.

Fear not, for you are the final heir to Our knowledge and the bearer of Our madness.

And then you’re falling. You remember this feeling- the same panic as when you touched Laurence’s monstrous skull- as your body is yanked backward by thousands of invisible arms, pulling you through the clinic floors, vision tunneling as the world shifts. 

Then, you’re in another body, and yet you do not recognize this one. 

It’s not Laurence, and it’s not the Queen from before, either. You glance down- you’re bowing, you think- and it’s a muscular body, comparable to your Hunter’s in sheer strength and size. The body’s memories come trickling back, and the veil of reality distorts.

Mindful of any listening ears, you shut the door, enclosing you and the man you’ve come to see within.

“It has spread,” he- you- report. You suppose it was supposed to sound impartial, apathetic, but the knot in your throat chokes against each word, and they come out sharp and hurried. You’re scared. Terrified. “More than any of us could have imagined. This excursion was meant to be no more than a patrol, and yet we found ourselves locked in siege.” 

The shadows surrounding the edges of the office lift, unveiling rows upon rows of books, a prayer alter, and the grand mahogany desk you still bow before. Standing, you finally see the man seated behind the desk, and your heart races. You can’t tell if the reaction is purely yours or your current body’s, for it is Laurence, the First Vicar himself, seated before you. 

Laurence hums, yet his expression does not shift, as unchanging as the marble statues that surround him. He knows. He has known. “How many?”

“Beasts? Dozens. Our Hunters lost? More.”

“You purged them all?”

It was said more as a statement than a question. You feel your molars grind, the pain clearing your thoughts as flashes of the Beast-infested streets warp through your bloody memory. “The situation is becoming increasingly dire, we set the alley row ablaze before retreating. I intend to take a second party on the morrow, to check for survivors.”

There was silence, then, and a clouding of that midnight stare. Laurence parted his lips, and he released a small sigh, thumb rubbing between his brows: a rare expression of perturbation, a sign of even the slightest bit of uncertainty that seemed oh-so-wrong on Laurence’s face. “Fire spreads, Ludwig.”

Ludwig. The Holy Blade. You curse, but your body- Ludwig’s body- does not react, simply shifting under the intensity of the Vicar’s stare. 

You’re aware of the risks. But the Church talks. People too. And it’s getting harder and harder to hide the Beasts. 

“As does this plague. We kept the fire contained— dug a trench. We made sure to cut back any surrounding brush that would serve as kindling.”

“One stray spark…” To say Laurnece’s tone held concern would be a generosity, but it held a gripping weight all the same. Ludwig knows the inescapable fate of the Yharnam, he sees it every night when the Hunt grows longer, but it was never his call to make, and he knows Laurence would never accept a forfeit. 

“One stray beast,” he- you- counters. “Flames are the only thing that kills this curse at the root. You already know what we must do to rid Yharnam of it. I only await your word.”

Laurence offers a brisk nod, but you’d know better than to think him convinced. “Is there anything else you require?”

There it is again. That painful indifference. 

Perhaps it’s sinful, but Ludwig almost prefers the hysterics of the other priests– the shedding of false tears or an emotive swell of speech at least made him feel as if he had been heard, at least it offered a twisted sense of closure. The First Vicar, however, spoke as if stripped of all artifice, or at least the obvious ones. Ludwig’s concern is met only with unhewn blankness, that honesty that could be easily mistaken for god-like apathy, yet he could not fathom why. 

The Holy Blade was himself at least partial to chivalry, especially when preaching to townsfolk, or when returning from a Hunt. But, to Laurnce’s credit, Ludwig had seen him act more empathetic to others before— to those, he supposed, the Vicar still felt the need to convince.

Regardless, it was not often The First Vicar offered his services first, so Ludwig would be a fool not to ask now. “With the sheer amount of bloodshed in recent Hunts, my Hunters need more blood vials. I understand tensions have been rising, however if you perhaps negotiate with Byrgenwerth to distribute less Old Blood to the populace, then the Hunters can have more for our—”

“The people need blood.” Laurnce’s voice booms across the office. The candles flicker. ”Our blood ministrations have finally caught the attention of those far beyond Yharnam. The Healing Church is becoming a beacon unlike any in our era. We are becoming the people’s hope, not the government, nor those self-proclaimed scholars.”

“And the Scourge?”

“What of it?” 

Ludwig knows better than to feign ignorance. After all, he’s already devoted himself to Laurnce, body and sword. He knows Laurence has tried to stop the scourge, after all, it was the dirtier half of Laurnce’s duty. 

Less than a month into the beasts appearing, the Church tightened regulation on the circulation of blood and regained control of the distribution channels in an effort to snuff out those early signs linking ministration to transmutation. Scourge symptoms were blamed on impure or contaminated strains obtained from illicit trade. And that’s where Ludwig came in, arresting any and all who seemed to breach these sacred laws: he ripped old, addicted men from street corners and screaming women from brothels, he hung or staked them and announced their false claims that their blood was that of Old Gods. Laurence has yet to kill someone guilty. He has yet to murder a sinner.  

“All that we do, all that we have done. Still, the scourge did not abate.”

Laurence freezes, and you feel your heart slow at the realization. 

Laurence knew. 

The Healing Church knew what their blood transfusions were doing to their people, they understood centuries ago. 

But Ludwig presses on. “If Bygenworth is concerned about their supply, send my Hunters and I to uncover another source. I’ve slain beasts, what difference is a god?”

“You forget yourself.” Laurence cuts Ludwig off, the Vicar raising his voice just enough for the words to ring across the empty office. 

The First Vicar leans back in his chair. Ludwig cannot read his expression, cannot hear his heart, and cannot see anything beyond the icy ring of his eyes. But he can see the way the man's jaw is set, the slight tilt of his head, the tightening of his fists.

It was an emotion he knew all too well.

The two stare at each other. Laurence speaks slowly.

"I understand your concern, Holy Blade. But your duty is to the city. I’ll take your concerns into account, but I’d suggest you leave manners of the blood to be debated between the Church and Bygenworth. As far as you and your Hunters are concerned, the dungeons have been sealed.”

"That’s all?" Ludwig growls. He takes a step forward, the candlelight reflecting off his claymore. “And when the Old Blood runs out, what then? Do we continue lying to our people?”

Laurence is calm. "What is the Church without its beliefs? And what are the people without their hope?"

"Hope? When I lead my Hunters to kill beasts they don’t realize were once human, that is hope? When they die by the claws of mutilated neighbors and lovers, that is our hope ?"

"The Old Blood provides the people hope. It is not up to us to question what it is.” Laurence’s expression is cold, unchanging. He has to be, to convince himself that all of this was worth it. “I can assure you that the people will choose it over any truth.”

Laurence does not stand, he does not move, and finally it’s the Vicar’s apathy that gives him his final answer. Ludwig knows the Vicar has the power to strip him of his title, of his command, to exile him from his very city, and yet he does not fear the man. He does not fear the fire, the beasts, or the blood. All Ludwig fears is the knowledge that they are the ones doing this to their own people. The people he took an oath to protect. 

"We are doing the right thing, aren't we? We are carrying out our God's will, are we not?" 

Laurence meets Ludwig's gaze, but there is not a flicker of emotion nor recognition in those empty blue eyes. Only godless determination.

"It matters not, does it?"

Your eyes snap open, and you gasp for breath, clawing at the floor with nails that certainly bleed like your own. The scar against your throat burns. 

Past memories overtake your current ones and you hear the cries of the damned, the senseless prophecies from the patients, the true ambitions of reaching the gods. And the price that came with such arrogance.

There is no way of stopping the Scourge. There never was. 

The Old Blood was never to treat Yharnam, it was never meant for mortal beings to begin with. No, that is why the Church does not seek a cure, because morality was what they were attempting to transcend in the first place. Their ambition was never to bring the gods down but to ascend as deities themselves. 

That is why the Choir began the orphanage. You were never given a cure, you had been given the parasitic gift of the gods, a vessel conduit to become one yourself. And so has the rest of Yharnam. 

The microscope clatters to the ground, shattering. Your knees buckle and you grip onto the table, heaving into your arms as the entire world trembles. Faces flash before you, Hunters and Priests and children and elderly and neighbors and lovers and strangers. Innocents. So many dead innocents. 

You scream. 

You scream until your throat tastes like blood and your lungs give out.

Only at the very end of consciousness do you remember Ludwig’s request and Laurence’s strict denial- “the dungeons have been sealed.”  

The Old Blood was extracted from the dungeons beneath Byrgenwerth. 

Byrgenwerth. You have to get back to Byrgenwerth. 

· · ─────── ·♰· ─────── · ·

“I refuse.”

You scoff. “What do you mean, you refuse? In case you have forgotten, Hunter, we have a deal you are bound to carry out.”

Diluc simply snorts, crossing his arms as he glares down at your huffing form. “Correct. However, I tend to draw the line at idiotic requests that will certainly get us both killed. Those dungeons are empty save for starving Beasts and worse.”

“I’m well aware, I saw it myself.”

He freezes. “You what? When?” Diluc grabs your arm, instinctually scanning your body as though looking for wounds, even as he manhandles you around.

“Not-” you wiggle against his grasp, “Not physically.” This stops him. “In a dream- vision?- it’s hard to explain exactly, but this is hardly what’s important here. Byrgenwerth may finally hold the key to understanding the scourge and finding our cure, if you’d just believe me.”

Diluc does not, in fact, believe you. But he releases your arm and you rub your bruising bicep, grumbling. He mutters something under his breath, shaking his head as his hair falls against his face in a way that would be considered handsome had his scowl not deepened.

He is not angry at you. Rather, Diluc can never seem to stay mad at you, however much he may want to. First him, then the Executioner, and now this. You seem to have a habit of enticing Death, a sort of waltz you almost revel in spinning too close to the edge with, a deep-rooted entanglement Diluc might have gotten jealous of if he were a lesser man.

"Byrgenwerth, huh." A place the Vilebloods cursed the very existence of, a place the Church considered holy. Something unknown that both beckons and scorns him. Whatever the two of you find in those dungeons will consume you, this Diluc is certain of.

But he is a man of his word. Worse yet, he is a man in love.

"Very well. I know a passage that can take us there, although it’ll be nearly a day’s journey on foot. But you are to listen to me no matter what, no questions asked. If I say run, we run. Understood?"

"I understand.” You smile, and his chest squeezes in a way he hates. 

You know very well how much your Hunter is already regretting his decision, and tug him closer in thanks. Leaning forward, you let your arms wrap around his neck, craning just to reach him as your fingertips lace against the ends of his curls, long ponytail spilling from under his Hunter’s cap and down his robe in flaming tendrils. "Your hair has grown long."

"It has." 

Far too long, Diluc thinks. He reaches a hand up to your face, cupping your cheek, and he feels your eyes flutter shut under his palm.

“Can I braid it? Tomorrow, or the day after that?”

“You may.” Anytime. Every day, and long after that too. 

You both stay like that for a moment, leaning slightly against each other, you balancing precariously into his chest, and Diluc stabilizing you as one hand finds its place against the small of your back, the other coming up to your cheek. He’s warm.  

You look up, forehead brushing the stubble shadowing his chin. "Vow it to me."

"What?"

“Vow it to me. I’ll braid your hair, weeks from now. And if, oh," you giggle, thumbing at the rough hair against his jaw, “If you ever grow out your beard, I’ll get to braid that too.” 

Diluc exhales a ghost of a laugh, "Very well. I swear it.”

He leans in, and you can't help but follow his movement. His forehead rests against your own, and you close your eyes and breathe him in. He smells like smoke- a mix of ash and kindling still raw and red and burning, a familiar scent that makes you draw him in closer. You can taste the iron on his breath, and his fingers are calloused, the roughness of his scars scraping against your skin.

He is beautiful, beautiful in the way all things cursed and deadly are, and you fear you are falling in love with him.

"I will never let them take you."

And you believe him.

· · ─────── ·♰· ─────── · ·

Diluc is almost finished packing, strapping the last case of blood vials into his belt with silence efficiency. Another buckle, and he’s about to stand up when a weight hurls atop him, knocking the Hunter forward ever so slightly as he turns to face the attacker currently curling themselves over his shoulder with a wail. Eileen’s stubby feet kick against his back and she pounds her fists into Diluc’s shoulder as she yells her grievances between tears.

“I don’t want you to go!” Another pout, but this time little sobs hiccup through, “No. No, I won’t let you!”

Diluc ruffles Eileen’s hair gently, scooping her off his shoulder and into his arms as he sets down his claymore to make room. “You never seemed to be this distraught over my leaving before, why the sudden worry?” She sniffles, shaking her head.

“You can’t go. Not this time.” But Eileen elaborates no further, only breaking into more tears when pressed.

You walk in on the two of them, watching Eileen sob into Diluc's shoulder. You frown. "I thought I told Edwin to keep an eye on her."

Diluc hums, nodding to the door behind you. "It’s no worry. Go and get your things ready, I'll watch her." 

Every instinct urges you to stay and comfort your sobbing child, but Diluc insists quietly with his gaze, and you shut the door with a click. Without looking, Diluc feels your absence and promptly turns back to Eileen, softening his voice, although the tone rough and unpracticed. 

"Little crow,” Diluc brushes back her black curls, and her tears along with it. “What's wrong?"

She sniffles, rubbing her eyes. "You can't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You are!"

"Why do you think that?"

Eileen is silent, terribly so. Then, she whispers, "I'm scared."

“Why would you need to be scared when I’m here?” Diluc's brows knit together, and yet he continues to comfort her letting her tears soak into his cloak. The Hunter knows she’s not biologically your child, that none of the orphans are, but as he brushes tears from Eileen’s reddened eyes, he swears they look exactly like your own. So when he speaks these next words, he vows not just to her but to the reflection of you he sees within. “I vowed to protect you, all of you. Neither the gods nor men can take you all from me.”

And the stars listen.

By the time you’ve fully packed, begrudgingly adding Laurnce’s journey to your satchel, the rest of the children have come down the clinic to say their farewells too. Closing the door behind you, you embrace Alison and Edwin one last time, letting them join the Hunter and Eileen on the floor. Timmy crawls alongside his twin on Diluc’s lap, and the remaining children join the pair on the floor as silent sniffles and cries are muffled into fabric and hair. Diluc flinches at first, stiff at the center of it all, but comforts the children nonetheless. 

You smile, kneeling with a scoff before wrapping your arms around them all. Farewells and sobs are muted from within the pile, and you feel your own eyes sting as you embrace them just a little tighter, and just a little longer. 

And for a moment, despite the cold from the rotting city, you are warm.

[kaitawrites]

Monster Genshin Men

Zhongli - Vampire

Diluc - Werewolf

Childe - Siren

Kaeya- Monster Hunter

Xiao- Monster Hunter

Goro- Werewolf

I am thinking of some sort of mythical monster x reader oneshots. Especially Zhongli... vampire zhongli sounds good

[glassrowboat]

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 rounded cheeks, your scrutinizing eye was stopped short. He was young, still bore a baby face, but had faced something aiming to hurt, if not kill him.

An attempt at 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.

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.

[argentisbeloved]

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• Monday • minor • side blog • she/her • requests open !! •

I hope you enjoy reading !!

☆*~ RECENT WORKS ~*☆

-Waiting For A Better Tomorrow (vampire!viktor x vampire hunter!gn reader)

-Exhausted & Clingy Gaming (x Female reader)

-Diluc, Dainsleif & Dan Heng as vampires

[teyvampt]

Updated Taken Characters List!

Venti: Vampite: subtype Sprite

Diluc: Dhampire, subtype warm, Hunter, thought he was human for most of his life

Scaramouche|Wanderer: Vampire subtype Unseelie

Dainslief: Vampire; Subtype Common.

Fischl; Vampire; Subtype Common

Dottore: Vampire; Subtype Shattered

Tighnari: Vampire; Subtype Legacy

Cyno: Vampire; Subtype Devoted

Tartaglia|Childe: Vampire; Subtype Shattered

Zhongli: Subtype; Arch

Sucrose: Dhampire; Subtype none

Albedo: Vampire; Subtype Shattered

Lisa: Human, Witch

Klee: Human

Yelan: Human, Hunter

Arlecchino: Vampire; Subtype Unseelie

Kaeya: Dhampire: subtype second gen

Kaveh: TBD

Baizhu: Sprite

Itto: Subtype; Oni

Nuevillette: Subtype; Arch

Yae Miko: Subtype; Sprite

Collei: Dhampyre

Ei|Raiden: Arch

Freminet: common

Lyney

Lynette

The Tsaritsa

Pantalone

Lumine

Nahida

Yunjin

Reserved Characters

Dehya

Signora

[sentofight]

Threads list 

current threads i received/ still receive replies from i kept them on the on-going section, otherwise i moved a load of them down to the archived. if there is a thread you still see potential in it let me know please (remember i cant read minds.)

on going

lucina & raguna @d/cviated| everything goes to the Forest of the Beginning

lucina (present) & Spartan @/pieman1112 | time passed by

victor & etude @/specialgels | in a new realm

zack & aerith @/greatxgospel | a visit to her home

zack & aerith @/greatxgospel | searching for hope

lucina & takako @/xdcwntherabbithole |mother daughter time

raquel & diluc @/dcviated | Painting enthusiastic

rokurou & dogi @/dcviated | chat and drink

zack & aerith @/greatxgospel | turk zack 

lucina & owain @/obfuscatingveil | finding memories

akihiko & minako @/foolisharcanum | jocks being jocks

akihiko & mitsuru @/heartwilled | young S.E.E.S.

lucina & shenhe @/aswrittenbydestiny | of mysterious aura

aldo & akira @/flovverworks | cat man and a sage

lucina & hope @/resonatingmuses |hair braiding

lindow & soma @/aswrittenbydestiny | Trust me

lindow & sakuya @devourersofgods | the real MVP

kyle & rachel @/resonatingmuses | a quick stop

edea & wylan @/cadcnce | date

date & daniel @/thebreakfastmuses | 6 minutes

archived (let me know if you want to continue these)

balan & plum @/juwul | lunch break

balan + victor & shadow  @/riftdancer | under the tutelage of the great spirit

eight & sora @/roseuscrystallum | advice on how to become stronger

eight & sora @/roseuscrystallum | magic test

falco & boss @/psychcdelica | Police Academy time

lucina & isaac with hope @/resonatingmuses | meeting hope

lucina & plum @/juwul | dancing lesson

lucina, feat chrom & isaac @/isaaccecilbryant | snowball fight

machina & deidra @/riftdancer | fashion taste & gift commission

machina & hinata @/solstoft | maid outfit dude

machina & naghi @/xxyumeno | meeting the idol

machina & sora @/roseuscrystallum | after cactuar

machina (incognito) & qator @/xxyumeno | white tiger general & l’cie

rokurou & eizen @e/uyin | a confession on deck

rokurou & plum @/juwul | a helping hand

rokurou & plum @/juwul | strong miss

rokurou & sync @/azotas | deamon lost in abyss

rokurou & takako+hanako @/xdcwntherabbithole | her bodyguard

tiz & evelyn @/kinships | sheep whisperer?

tiz & gran @/toestalucia | new prospective

tiz & mokou @/ofliminalities | lost in the forest

tiz & raguna @/dcviated | the farmer life

victor & plum @/juwul | attention

victor & plum @/juwul | fractured world plum

victor & plum @/juwul | spirit victor; second chance

rokurou & kimuri @/euyin | drinks and jobs

rokurou & eizen @/euyin | a sneaky kiss

king & kurasame @/rengelyer | a conversation

balan & viktor @/euyin | a troublermaker

victor & sindri @/juwul| unexpected visitor

zack & cha hae-in @/lunaetis | of hunters and huntresses

shutaro & sylvia (chrysanths) @/rifdancer | vampire and a villainess

raquel & hendrick @/astralwiings | road trip

edward & shu @/riftdancer | what it means to kill

date & kotetsu @/riftdancer | dads in a bar

balan & shadow/shane @/driftdancer | NEXT research

lindow & kota @/etchedinmargins | Captaining advice

rokurou & zaveid @/armxtus  | daemon and wind malak

rokurou & sync @/azotas | imprisonment

lucina & amon @/astralwiings | diplomatic beginnings