#x vampire reader

( They would probably be considered young to vampires since they are immortal,,, (ᵕ—ᴗ—) )

And if it’s not tm,, (◞‸ ◟)💧 I wanna also know how the diasomnia boys would think of vamp / reader ! !

Ps : I love ur account so so much eeekk ,, & can I be known as 🦇 anon,, cuz I’m bound to request more Lilia x vampire ,,! ! (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

【❝Just Come, Kiss Me, And Bite Me❞】

【Synopsis: In which Lilia finds true love in the arms of a woman most would deem a creature of darkness】

【Featuring: Lilia Vanrouge】

【Tags: fem reader, vampire reader, reader is mama, Lilia is a hall of fame wife guy, Malleus and Silver are hall of fame mama’s boys, Sebek has a brief beef w reader but he gets over it bc she’s so lovely lol, TW for mentions of blood/feeding on both people and animal/having children, no beta, possible typos/spelling errors, please let me know if I missed any tags】

【Word count: 1k】

【a/n: hello there dear 🦇 anon, as you henceforth shall be known! Thank you so much for the kind words! I hope you keep enjoying my work and continue to stick around for more! I love love love the Diasomnia family sm, so I, of course, had a great time writing this! I’ve probably mentioned this before, but loveeee vampires, which also made writing this incredibly enjoyable! Anyway, thanks again and I hope you enjoy! <33333】

⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆

Lilia who knew you weren't just a mere mortal from the start

Lilia who was beyond elated at the realization that you were a vampire, who cried silent tears of relief of the fact that he wouldn't have to lose the love of his life centuries before he himself could join them

Lilia who, much to your dismay, got somehow more creative with his cooking and had you taste test. As long as there was no garlic you couldn't die after all--your taste buds beg to differ

Lilia who sneaks you into places you shouldn't technically be allowed to go by having you turn into a bat and putting you in his pocket

Lilia who loves spending quality time together as bats just flying around after the kids are asleep

Lilia who has on multiple occasions probably had to save silver from jumping off random ledges because he was so convinced he could after watching you

Lilia who made sure you always had enough blood to last you a while even offering his own

Lilia who probably switches out said blood with hot sauce just to mess with you every once in a while, not trying it again until you sufficiently have your guard down

Lilia who takes up painting just to paint portaits of you, and keeps a small one of you and the kids on him at all times

Lilia who tried to hide his waning powers from you, who didn't want you to see him as weak

Lilia who grinned bright as the sun when you found out, you picked him up with ease and told him to rely on you since you had more than enough strength for the both of you

Lilia who loves you dearly and wouldn't trade you for the world

Uhh not sure if I have but I don’t remember writing one so here we go!

Ronin x Vampire!Reader

TW: Mentions of blood, gore, and death, slight suggestive hc at the end.

• Vampire, who is greatly feared and treated as a legend among the townsfolk. He’s the one parents tell their children will come for them unless they start to behave. Living alone for hundreds of years was alright by him, vampires were mostly solitary creatures anyhow. He slept during the day to regain his strength, then fed by nightfall. Sometimes it was just one or two humans, other times he took the lives of entire families in one giant serving. It was all simply fine- until it wasn’t. For one who had lived so long in solitude it seemed humourous to feel lonely all of a sudden.

• The vampire had not meant to have a child. It occurred without plan. However cold he may be, something urged him to keep you; the tiny, defenseless(not by human standards), and certainly hungry child he’d created. It was a hoax, that vampires could not procreate in the traditional sense; made up by the few vampire parents who did care enough about their children to ensure no one should hunt for them. If humans knew there were multiple ways and how easy it was to make more of this damned race, then the search for these children would be endless. Plus, burning the children would surely be easier than to behead a fully fledged adult monster?

• Now that you were sleeping soundlessly within his grasp, how could he ever let you go? There was no way he could let you run around like a child needs to, should the two of you live close to any civilisation. So he fled, deep into the wilderness where no one ought to find you. Yet it wasn’t too far out so it’d be impossible to find prey- especially with the help of his knowledge and ability to travel far distances. Good luck his uncle had a large castle standing empty for your use. Further luck was it that vampire father had killed him long ago, otherwise there’d be an unpleasant battle for territory.

• You were hopelessly adorable when you latched onto his wrist, teeth bared and fangs ready. They were small, but vicious. There was no question you’d be ruthless when you grew up. During the first year after a vampires birth, they had to feed from their parents. It was similar to how human babies gain nutrients from their mother whilst in the womb, and later rely on her milk to survive the harsh conditions of the outside world. He’ll find the best humans to eat so you’d be getting the finest nutrients afterwards.

• He loves getting you cute dresses and styling your hair. You’re like a fine china doll. Playing is also fun. You’re so full of energy that even he- exceeding physical abilities and all- had to take a break every now and then. He cannot count how many times he has been forced to chase you high-speed around the castle in order to prevent you from knocking anything over. An ordinary human would never have vitality to care for a vampire child. Apart from the likelihood of being drained on the spot, vampire children are very high maintenance and would tire a human beyond compare in less than a week. His favourite activity with you is teaching you to hunt. It’s a fantastic way to bond. He’ll make sure to encourage you and give you good opportunities; the complete opposite of how his parents taught him. They were rough and did not care at all, which was not rare for vampires but still.

• No matter how wonderful you looked while tearing the coachman’s throat out, vampire father would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the old days when you were younger. You didn’t have to wristfeed anymore and could do nicely by yourself. As he rested within his coffin, he reassured himself he was still needed. You would not reach adulthood until you were 150 years old, and even then you would still be his child- you would need him yet.

• Vampire father has servants who work in the castle. Maids and butlers who clean(no chefs of course) and are human. Whenever you asked your father about where they came from, he responded with ‘I took them to work here for us’. You noticed three things about the servants: they were a lot weaker than you, constantly scared in your or your fathers presence if their erratic beating heart was anything to go by, and they were often replaced. It was one night, you were reading, and a maid walked in to sweep the floor. You’d recognised her as Zoe. She was one of the only few who’d managed to stay(alive) for more than four years. However, the Zoe in your memory was youthful with dark hair and bright eyes; this one in front of you was worn down and grey.

• This realisation opened up your mind for curiosity aimed towards humans. Previously, you hadn’t really noticed them or cared. You saw them as food and disposable, just like your father did. But now you began thinking about the differences between you as species. Clearly, vampires were the superior race, being faster, stronger, more durable and free of illness. Although the loneliness of a vampire could count as a disease itself, the only inevitable, natural suffering of a creature of the night. So if vampire were superior, how come you all live in shadows? Why, despite there being fewer of you, did you not rule as royalty? And how come weak beings such as humans were almost happier than a vampires ever been? You wished to know the simple joy humans knew. You wanted to understand how they could be so happy as they were. How did they chose what path to dedicate their lives to when they had such short ones? You desired answers to the question on wether one could really be fulfilled in a mere 100 years; a lot of humans didn’t even make it past that age.

• You were more intrigued than ever. You just had to learn more about humans and their strange perspectives. They were so different from you. Unfortunately, your vampire father did not like your newest interest. He had taken you into the forest to hide you from humans and now you actively sought them out? You would end up chased or burned in sunlight! He would never allow that to happen to you. He’s your father and he’s sworn to stand by you.

Miss Vampire

AO3

Pairings: Soft! Yandere/Dark Caleb x Vampire! f!reader

Summary: You are a prettly little vampire, but his vampire. Feed on him only.

Warnings: Yandere, dark, vampire au! (cutting arms, sucking blood, biting, scars), torture, minor death, step-brother x step-sister dynamic (romantically), manipulation, obsessive/possessive behaviour, misusage of sleeping pills, manipulated and trapped reader, vampire au! but only with the drinking blood and pointed teeth parts.

A/N: Read the warnings carefully before pressing "keep reading".

꒷꒦𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭꒦꒷

[Julian Devorak x M!Vampire reader]

‼️WARNINGS‼️ Hints of spoilers for the story// Suggestiveness; grinding, use of the words ‘groin’ ‘crotch’, etc// biting// Julian being a kinky mf (pain kink, biting kink)// Many, many descriptions of blood and injury// Descriptions of being starved and skipping meals for multiple days (reader not having blood, their main source of substance, for a while which affects them severely)// descriptions of anxiety.

Ao3 vers

—Proofread?: yes.

—Word count: 15k

—Rating: NSFW (primarily towards the end).

—POV: First person, readers point of view.

—Reader is the apprentice and male using he/him/his.

—Use of M/N

꒷꒦Summary꒦꒷

Things have been raking up around the palace lately. The failed visit to the Hanged Mans realm, Lucio hot on everyone’s tail, Julians inevitable execution, not to mention the raging hunger caged deep in your gut. With the chaos of your adrenaline-high adventures, you’d unknowingly ignored the most important meal of the day: Blood. And now, days of underconsumption has taken a toll on your already nerve-wracked body and you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to hold out. This gnawing secret is becoming more and more difficult to keep under wraps. However, there may just be a certain individual thats a little too enthusiastic about helping with your misfortune.

A/N: This is unfinished, (though mostly done tbh) I’ve working on it since April 11th of this year, but haven’t touched it in 4 weeks as of now due to needing a break from it as I was stressing over it all those 4 months.

I apologize if characters are a little ooc, it’s my first time writing for any TA character, especially Julian. I tried my absolute best tho. I wrote this just after the chapter where Julian and apprentice visit the hanged man’s realm (I forgot what the chapter was called but iykyk).

This got a lot more heated at the end than i initially anticipated buuttt yk whaaattt, just enjoy you fellow freaks ;)

A sharp sigh passes through my nostrils and I course a hand through my hair. My nostrils flair and I blink my eyes a couple times before they fall down to the floor. 

God, why does my head hurt this badly?

I stifle a groan with a clench of my jaw and lift my hand to rub at my temple.

I’m not recalling any memories. Unless…

I don’t realize how obvious my lack of attention is until a familiar voice reaches my ears. 

“M/N? Are you alright?”

Lifting my head up, I find all five eyes on me, each more concerned than the last. The weight of their gazes propel me to sit up more properly.

“Uh– yes, yes I am. Sorry.”

The sensation of sweat that has accumulated on my skin as I pass my hand over my forehead irks me greatly, and I wonder if the others have noticed.

When I look up from clearing myself, I immediately spot my good friend, and magical master, Asra’s, eyes crinkle in suspicion and graze over my weaker figure. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s recognized what's the matter with me even before I can, especially with the way in which he observes my face.

My eyebrows twitch inward, just barely furrowing. We share contact for a few good seconds, passing a joined acknowledgement of something that only increases my discomfort. However, in the end, it’s not only him that I find is inspecting me.

Nadia, with those piercing yet elegant reds, eye my hands after using them as wipes, equal worry as Asra painting her regal face. But then, I catch smokey orbs out my peripheral, and like a moth to the flame they produce, I catch them.

Upon sight, I find Julian briefly glancing over at Asra with perplexion, then over to me, then back to Asra, all as if he’s attempting to figure out what was going on without directly asking us. Surely, he can sense some silent communication between us, curious, if not desperate, to know of what secret words that we’re sharing through gazes are. 

Eventually though, he sets his full attention on me and we lock eyes, perturbed greys meeting weary browns. 

It lingers for much longer than needed. Though, it seems he’s getting the hang of mastering the skill in silent conversation, whether he’s aware or not, because there’s no doubt he’s questioning me with that look.

“We can stop here for now.”

All attention falls on Asra.

“Already?” Nadia questions, within reason, although she doesn’t appear upset about it. We had just started this little meeting a mere 2-3 minutes prior, after all, so I expect some disappointment. Alas, I find none upon her golden skin.

“Yes, I believe we all need some time to think and rest with what new information we have gathered thus far.”

Those comforting violets fall on me as the word ‘rest’ leaves Asra’s lips. And by the universe am I honestly relieved he has ended things here.

Nadia looks between me and Asra, seeming to connect some understanding and nods her head.

“Very well then, we can pick things up by tomorrow.”With this announcement, she looks between all of us, before rising to her feet. 

I follow her movements suite but with much more agency, squeezing in one more quick look with Asra before swiftly making my way out the room and into the halls as soon as possible. I’m more concerned with my leave than giving Julian any little bit of context, even with how quick he is to stand and go for me when I rose.

Just a few steps down the empty interior I release the breath I was holding and find myself unable to resist reaching my hand out to the nearest wall to support my body.

Seems I am much weaker than I had suspected. 

I mentally scold myself while adjusting my footing.

But, I suppose it’s no real surprise. With all the chaos of the late, or...not so late, Count Lucio’s schemes, and presumed involvement of the Courtiers, my mental, and as it seems physical, state have been pushed too far aside. Usually I don’t neglect this much of myself for this long, especially not my hunger…

A low growl rumbles from the back of my throat as I push off the wall and start walking toward —or more like stomping with the way my boots echo obnoxiously about. 

I hear the door to the salon open feet behind me, yet I disregard it and instead limit my focus to the act of reaching into my shirt for something much more important.

But just like that, in what's supposed to be a moment of solace promptly melts into despair. 

I'm out…

I stop in my tracks, my loud thuds halting to a trickling pause. 

How…? I thought it had only been–

A thudding and a voice.

“M/N?”

My body tenses and I lift my head up to look back past my shoulder. Asra stands a couple steps from the salon room door appearing to have just exited. Despite our 7 foot distance, an undeniable look passes between us, a recognition and understanding I've grown familiar with throughout the years.

I try to submerge the need to let out another breath, however my attempts are futile as it surpasses as my lips part and my shoulders visibly shudder. 

Asra swiftly approaches me, and when he does he gently places a hand on my shoulder for support. His white eyebrows are knitted together in the softest concern. He looks down to the vial in my trembling hand and sighs. 

“How long have you been without?”

His eyes lift to my face, and a subtle display of surprise that melts into sympathetic worry and comprehension flickers within those violets. Quickly though, I avert my gaze to the ground, and with a thick swallow, I lift my shoulders and shake my head in uncertainty.

“I-I don’t know–maybe…”

I trail off to rummage through my mind, fluttering through the mess of memories from this following month like pages in a book. When it finally comes to me, I blink hard and my following breath releases like a billowing curtain in the wind.

“..A…day and a half..maybe two now?”

I hear Asra inhale and his hand tenses on my shoulder. 

I hate it, I hate that display of fret upon his beautiful face, that rattles his body. Because I know, in this moment, it’s because of me. 

“That’s incredibly risky, M/N.”

Yeah, no kidding.

“Have you any more of your back ups?”

I shake my head and clench my jaw simultaneously with my free hand by my side. The needling of my grown out nails prod my palm, and yet I pay no mind to it. Meanwhile, the other fingers tighten around my red stained vial, gripping it close to my hammering chest.

“This was my last backup.” I mumble defeatedly. Asra waits a moment before responding. 

“Would you like for me to stay with you for a while?”

The thought lingers within my own, contemplation painting my features. My eyes flick down to the vial, lifting it up just a bit.

I catch my reflection within the small glass, distorted slightly with the curve of the object. I exhale out and briefly close my eyes before reopening them.

“I..think I’ll be okay..”

Asra steps around, hand remaining on my taut shoulder, with his body completely facing my own so I'll only focus on him.

“M/N, look at me.”

I obey his command with what airy courage I have, eyes training on his just enough to be considered eye contact. It’s less stressful to hold with Asra, however still, it’s no easy feat, especially in such stressful circumstances.

“With everything that has been happening, the withdrawal may feel worse than it actually is. And while I can’t promise things will be alright, I can say we can get through this.”

The sight of him smiling at me so delicately soothes some of my nerves…but it isn’t enough. 

I spot the slight waver to those curved lips, and I know its cause. And mentally re-acknowledging that cause heightens my body's weaknesses furthermore. That of which forms itself in the sound of a loud growl that emits from the depths of my stomach, snapping me out of my troubled mind. 

Asra and I exchange a look. His smile dissipates, but only for a mere second before it tugs back up again.

“I will go out to see if I can find something quick for you. Something to, at the very least, satiate you until tomorrow. In the meantime,” His look grows more genuine and sympathetic, his tone lowering to something softer.

“Please try and get some rest. You need it.”

I manage my own small smile for him in return, but it's nowhere near as assuring as his.

With that, Asra walks me to my room within the palace, and once I assure my safety to him, he heads off and closes the door behind him, but not without one last smile.

Watching and hearing that golden handle click with the doors closing echoes throughout my mind. My eyes remain on it for a good few seconds, as if hoping Asra will push it back open and magically appear with my needs despite the incredibly small time frame of his departure. 

But alas…I am alone. Alone with this…gnawing hunger, consuming my gut, like my body is trying to eat me from the inside out as to replace its absence of sustenance. 

…This is gonna be a long night. 

I take a concentrated deep breath in and out, holding my inhale for 5 seconds, and exhaling out for another 5. 

“Okay M/N, everything will be alright, maybe just– take a nap like Asra suggested, get some rest.”

I nod to myself and head on over to my bed, only to stop halfway there. A memory strikes me. 

That’s right…the last time I attempted to sleep off this beast, it awakened with a much more ravenous desperation than before. And to be thrust into that state again sounds anything but appealing. 

With that, I plop down onto my plush bed with a defeated groan, placing my hands over my eyes and closing them while my fingertips rub my hairline. 

“Asra won’t be long. Surely, not in a time like this.” I reassure myself in a strained, quiet voice only for my ears.

Behind one more deep breath, I sharply exhale and ruffle up my hair, wiping the gathered sweat on my hands over my pants. 

I lean forward and begin undoing my boots, pulling them off and setting them on the floor at the end of the bed. Once that is completed, I lift my legs up onto the mattress and lay back, resting my hands on my chest.

My heartbeat has settled, but it still thumps quicker than usual. Another ticking reminder.

The fact that I can hear it so clearly is no good sign.

I stare up at the ceiling, remaining still for a few seconds before feeling for my necklace again. I’m mildly surprised that the vial isn’t difficult to find; it seems I left it out from my shirt after making the discovery of its vacantness earlier.  

Between my fingers I hold the small glass compartment rolling it around without looking down at it. I feel its light weight, the lack of liquid it usually contains. 

My stomach rumbles at this, prompting a wave of hunger to roll through my body and sending a shiver down my spine.

I can handle this, I've dealt with it before and lived. I just need to have patience and trust in Asra. 

Be patient. Distract your mind.

This mantra repeats through my head over and over, and over, and over…and over…and...over, until–

Ow-!

A sharp pain spikes through my tongue. Did I just bite it?

My heartbeat picks up as I experimentally bite down around the throbbing area and Within a second feel something drip out. I suck in through my teeth, hissing at the mild pain.

Shit, I really did. Ow..

The metallic tang overwhelms my senses. Just that little droplet is driving me crazy, breathing picking up, heart pounding like a war drum.

I move the vial over into my left hand so I can lift the other up to my open mouth and lightly bite down onto one of my knuckles, a pathetic attempt to regain control.

Distract your mind.  

Strangely, I feel much more desperate than before. It’s like something has…awakened in me. Well, that may be a stretch. 

I have bitten my tongue or the inside of my cheek when hungry before, but it had never been hard enough to draw blood. Thus, I’ve never tasted my own blood before. And yet, this hint has me shaking and breathing heavily as if I've scaled a building. 

Biting my knuckle hurts, oh that's for sure, but my mind is lured, like a fish caught on a hook line. But in this case, that hook line is laced with the second most delectable drug. 

Asra will be back, calm down, M/N. 

Gripping the vial, I clamp my flesh harder, ignoring the added pain it produces, even as I slide the knuckle over to the side, prodding it with something much sharper than my central and lateral incisor. 

There's something oddly thrilling about the sensation of the top layer of my skin breaking, my canines piercing deeper and deeper in. But then…

“Ah!” I let out sharp hiss of pain and immediately release my finger, scrunching my face. 

My hand struggles to decide on remaining open or closing, confused by the pain that pulses from the center. The unbroken top of the vial cascades down my chest and rolls onto the mattress in the little space beside me, meanwhile the rest remains laid on my chest.

I raise my left hand up and the first thing I catch is red rolling down my palm.

I…really just crushed the vial in my palm, shattered it into pieces. 

There I lay in shock, mouth still open and sticking my tongue out just enough to feel the air sting the sore tip, as the pain from it has not dissipated. 

I’ve been starving before, but I've never felt the need, never felt desperate enough, to feed from myself. 

With a grumble of frustration, being as careful as I can be, I slowly sit myself up, the glass pieces raining down onto my lap.

I turn myself around to hang my legs off the side of the bed. Unfortunately I’m not able to keep all pieces on myself, as most of if not all, end up on the ground. Luckily there is an intricate rug along the floor by my bed, so, stepping around the glass with caution, I roll it up, deciding it will be best to deal with it later. 

I’ll probably be able to get it cleaned before Nadia or any palace workers see it. Right now, I need to care for myself, for…whatever's happening to me. 

Now I stand before the rolled rug, holding both my injured hands close to my chest. Equally, they tremble, though my left is the worst.

I bring that hand up into my line of sight and carefully open it.

Thankfully only one spot had been sliced by the glass, but the placement is less than ideal. A cut on the heel of my hand. It’s barely half an inch long and doesn’t seem deep enough for the call of stitches— However, it certainly is deep enough to produce a bright crimson that oozes down and wraps around my thin wrists. 

It stings, and that aroma of iron wafts up through the air, circling around my head in temptation. 

I find myself staring down at my life force, eyeing it like an animal starved. The carmine swirls to my eyes, and the next thing I know, I’m licking up a stripe, painting my tongue bright red. 

A spark bursts from my chest, a buzz coursing through my limbs like a million little insects scurrying around beneath my flesh. 

Consuming my own blood feels weird, but it also tastes…good. Too good. In fact, it’s the best thing I’ve ever had. 

Why…Why does my blood, in even the smallest amount, taste better than any animal blood I've had over the past three years? Better than the main source of food I’ve had no choice but to consume?

Though I seriously ponder on it for some time, I shake my head to jumble out the troubling thoughts, as if they’re raindrops bubbled on strands of my hair.

I don’t need to add anymore to my already piling plate of turmoil.

Holding my injured hand out, I search about my room for something I can use to bandage the wound. Unfortunately, there is not anything preferable to dress it, so, in the end, I go with wrapping a hand cloth around it and securing it in place with a pin. 

The cut pursues its stinging, but this safer condition is much more preferable than staying exposed to the elements. Though, at the same time, just a simple cloth and pin is exactly ideal, but it’s what I'm to deal with for the time being.  

Figuring out how I'm to go about explaining this to Nadia or anyone else in the morning is not something I want to linger on. Therefore, I shift my mind elsewhere.

My eyes wander about my room until they catch onto something. My window.

Walking over to it, I pull back the curtains one by one with my right hand and look out past the glass panes. 

Down below is the castle gardens just a few good feet away, an arrangement of greenery and stunning nature for the eyes’ beholder. 

Perhaps I should go for a walk, get some fresh air.

I consider while admiring the way the moonlight bounces off the tree leaves. 

However, there's a problem with that. How am I to get out lest I stumble into a guard? Or onto my face?

A pout goes to form on my face, only for It to swiftly disappear when a realization hits me. It’s a risky idea, but…those vines crawling up the wall towards my room appear quite sturdy. 

With a decided huff, I turn on my heel and stride towards my bed. There I lean over to momentarily plop myself onto the push mattress, and gather my shoes, slipping them on as quickly as my hands allow. 

Once I rise to my feet, I approach the window once more. A light click reaches my ears, a sound that spikes worry at being caught, but fades once I push the panels open.

The crisp, early night air hits my warm skin like a soothing balm. It’s beautifully crisp tonight, not quite enough to prickle my skin but still not too warm. 

As I stroll through the garden, I appreciate the beauty the flowers bestow upon my eyes. Their elegance does well enough to strip my mind away from my troubles, that and the light breeze that runs its airy fingers through my brunet locks.

Soon enough, I reach the grand water fountain in the middle of it all and decide to take a seat on the edge of it. I’ve already visited here a couple times before. Though…of those visits I was typically in some distressed state of mind. And without fail each time, did it all connect back to Lucio…

I stare down into the still water with eyebrows knit, gently rubbing my wrapped hand on my lap. I almost half expect Asra’s form to spontaneously appear within its reflection as has happened before, but of course, such a thing surrounds the outer borders of logic.

Seconds more pass of the quiet night accompanying me. The breeze is the faintest it can be, and the fountain's trickling eventually fades into my subconscious as white nose. Thus, I am left alone with my thoughts. 

Thoughts tracing back through the past day or two. That of which eventually trails to Julian's reaction to me in the salon not much long ago.

The way his grey eyes furrowed, those expressive eyebrows falling downwards, the subtle flattening of his lips. I hate seeing him like that, looking so concerned for my well being. 

I brush back a fallen strand of H/C as a small sigh fans against my top lip. My stomach growls, reminding me yet again of its presence. It irks me greatly, and I squeeze my hands only to hiss from the painful reminder.

 As I soothe it, my ears pick up on something faint behind me —a soft thumping, and a rustling in mother nature. 

A minuscule anxiety flashes through me, that is until I very quickly recognize the first sound. I turn my head around to see…

Asra. I would recognize that heartbeat anywhere. 

I stare at him expectantly, eyes flickering about my master's face, nonverbally questioning whether he’s gotten what I needed, considering how our last interaction left off. But as quickly as they rise, my brows furrow downwards and a gut wrenching realization hits me.

He could not get any. 

“I thought I’d find you here once I found your room vacant.” He sympathetically smiles at me, almost seeming a little relieved.

Great, I’ve brought him much more worry than he needs in these times.  

I turn my head away as he approaches and takes a seat beside me, making sure to turn my injured hand with the palm facing down. As if that’ll hide it. 

He recognizes my weighing dismay and places his hand down onto the fountain's marble surface between us. 

I don’t even have to be looking at him to know he’s about to say something. And when it halts its release it doesn’t take long for me to know exactly what’s stolen his preplanned words.

“What happened to your hand?” His voice is much softer and lower, gentle, like a verbal embrace of comfort mingling with concern.

It takes me a moment but I turn my head back over and keep my gaze on my hand as I bring it up for better inspection. 

“I uhm,” A nervous chuckle slips past my barely touching teeth and separated lips. 

“May or may not have accidentally…crushed my vial..” I thickly swallow, feeling my adams apple bob in my throat. 

With some built up courage, I look over to Asra’s face and find his lavender eyes flicking between my hand and my features. Once he spots my centered attention, he blinks and his snowy eyebrows reach in and up. 

Such sorrow to paint the loveliest of scenes. To think you’d find despair amidst a field of lavenders and asters. 

“I’m so sorry, M/N, I truly am.” He speaks sympathetically, if not sounding regretful. 

“I know how much you battle your hunger, especially if you’ve been this long without it.”

I just sit there in silence, observing the way he reaches his own hand up, hesitating over mine just a second, before enveloping it. 

“I promise I'll go out and find something first thing tomorrow morning.”

My stomach answers for me with another rumble. Every minute and every mention of my hunger seems to increase it. It’s an impatient lion demanding food, It’s den my stomach. 

My teeth connect as I lift a foot up onto the lip of the fountain and pull my knee to my chest. I run my hand over my face, keeping the other under his on my thigh. I close my eyes with parting lips. 

“I understand, Asra. It’s not your fault.” I sigh out.

I know he is already aware of this, but I cannot help making sure he knows full well that I don't blame him. That I don't project my befall onto him. In the end though, I'm more so convincing myself of this. 

I can barely see his expression out of my peripheral vision, however I am still able to make out the rhythm in which his faint heart beats. Sympathy, such worry and compassion. It feels familiar in ways I can't quite describe, unlike any of his typical looks or beats.

I finally lift my gaze back up to him, rubbing my fingers down the sides of my nose from my tear ducts. I stare at him forlornly, our souls connecting.

Asras soften more than they already are and he manages his smile again. He brings his hand up onto my shoulder and rubs it soothingly with his thumb. 

“We’ll get this all sorted out, M/N. Both Lucio and your struggles.”

I remain silent as that word passes over me.

Struggle.

I can’t blame Asra for using that of all references, yet still it stings like an internal bee.

My brain latches onto it like a leeches teeth to flesh, tiny needles sucking at my comprehension, my familiarity with the fact that he wouldn’t intentionally hurt me; A haunting voice I feel I might have known well in my youth, whispering vile fables just to toy with me.

Nonetheless, I drown these fables and nod my head, mirroring a smile that doesn’t quite reach my tired eyes. 

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room? Help you take care of this?” He asks this with a pass of silence, motioning down to my hand. My response waits another moment until I grant it freedom. 

“I think I may stay out here for a bit. But I'll be back in soon enough. Thank you for the offer though.”

Asra nods, assuring me he’d always be here for me if I needed anything.

With that, he rises to his feet, sliding his hand off my shoulder. His eyes linger on me for a moment longer, concern and hesitance swimming within their purple pools. Hesitation holds him hostage a murmur till he drags them off and leave down the path with one last farewell. 

I linger on the area in which Asra once was, replaying his words in my head. 

“It’ll be alright…” I sigh out to myself. 

Being alone once more bubbles that tension within my core again, and so to counteract it, I close my eyes and take a deep breath in and out. As I exhale through my mouth, I focus my attention on my five senses—something Asra taught me for moments of distress.

I feel the smooth surface of the marble I sit upon. 

I smell the aroma of the flowers and mother nature herself that surrounds me. 

I hear the trickling of the water fountain behind me. That seems to calm me the most. So I focus on it, allowing the sound to embrace me as I take another controlled inhale through my nostrils. 

And lastly, I taste…the remnants of my blood…It’s faint. The wound on my tongue is nowhere near oozing, so it must be from my hand. Its ghost still lingers there– haunting me. Like Lucio…

At the faded taste, my nose scrunches up and my nostrils flare. And, though hesitant, I swipe the tip of my tongue back over my taste buds once more. Nothing. 

I exhale out deeply, as if relieved, and open my eyes, keeping them downcast. 

The breeze rustles the greenery once more, and I hear another beating. It’s a decent bit quicker than the last, and it’s certainly not Asra’s.

“M/N?”

For probably the hundredth time tonight, my head flings up and I catch the voices’ owner. Instantly my eyes soften but my fingers curl into my palm on my pant leg. 

“Julian?”

My heart picks up a beat quicker. 

Sure enough, there's the scoundrel himself, standing in the path where Asra had left.

“What’re you doing out here?”

I readjust my seating a little, eyes wandering about him. He returns it while shifting his mouth into an awkward smile.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He quips with his infamous grin. However, there's a falter to it. Everyone's smiles don’t seem quite genuine as of late, especially tonight. 

The muscles in my mouth dare an attempt at a provided display of contentment, however, it seems my body simply cannot allow me to express falsities. I’m not sure what I should say. Certainly not the truth, not yet, or…maybe never?

I blink multiple times to rid the thoughts and refocus on the moment.

“Just–needed some relaxation. To clear my mind.”

Technically this is true, but it’s not the entirety of it. And it seems he knows that.

Julian’s eyes narrow and he gives me a quick once over before sighing out heavily through his nose. 

His boots softly thud against the dirt path as he walks over and sits beside me, right where Asra had earlier.

He peers over at me from his spot, eyeing the way I struggle to keep my attention on his face. It’s difficult to without feeling the urge to look away and just avoid this situation altogether. I don’t want to rope him into any more trouble than he’s already in. Nevertheless, he proves avoiding that to be a challenge. 

“How are you doing? I mean- you looked quite uneasy back in there, not to mention your swifty escape.”

Those words make me freeze in my spot. I mean, I expected them, but still, I find myself just sat there, staring over at him. My eyes flick about his face, noting his genuine display of concern. His expression softens the longer I am plastered to his features. 

Eventually though, I do look away, swallowing thickly. Moments later I feel a weight, and upon inspection below, I find him grabbing a gentle hold of my hand, black gloved fingers curling around my own, as if he’s trying to stop the shaking I haven’t even realized I've been doing. I linger on it before speaking.

“I…” A heavy sigh blows through my nostrils as I curl my lips in and briefly close my eyes. 

“A lot has happened lately. A lot that…has caused me to unknowingly neglect parts of myself I wouldn’t dare ignore in the past. And it's just now starting to take its toll on me.”

I let my wonder linger in the air for some time. As I do, the first thing I notice is the manner in which I am squeezing my pant leg as if I hold a grudge against it. My god, I didn’t realize it’d be this nerve racking the closer and closer I venture towards spewing my secret. 

“Aannd, what parts of you would that be?” His voice is noticeably softer than before, laced with the same concern that paints his pale face. 

I turn my head and look up to him. 

Should I tell him?...

My heart thumps in my chest, my breathing picking up just barely enough for me to recognize and my hands feel sweaty despite the cool temperature surrounding us. 

It’s as if a millennia passes that I stare at him uncertainly. He must be so confused, having rich mahogany bare into his soul, contemplating whether or not he can be trusted with this crucial part of myself. His eyes crinkle slightly as he watches the turbulence swirling in mine grow harsher. 

I trust him, I…love him, I'm sure of that, and I want to tell him so badly, but…

His lips part to say something but I cut him off before he gets the chance. 

“It's hard to explain it.” I breathe out heavily.

“Most of what you need to know is that…it's not pretty.” 

I turn my head away from him with this addition, eyes mindlessly viewing the grass that gracefully flows in the breeze. My heart continues pounding against my ribcage and my stomach twists with hunger more and more, and yet I continue to ignore them both, despite their amalgamation of persistence. 

The fountain speaks amidst our silence, its water rushing down out of the surface where the strange, half-goat-half-fish statue sits atop its structure, and into the bottom, crashing onto the marble. 

The wind blows from the east, this time a little harsher than before. With something like tenacity, it gusts mine and Julian's hair, prompting both of us to brush our own locks out of our faces as it subsides. 

When Julian moves his out of the way, his eyes glue back onto me. 

His hand squeezes mine again and I spot a leg scooch closer to me until our knees are just barely touching.

“Does..this have something to do with your–” He pauses to find the right word and I look at him out of the corner of my eye. 

“Fidgetiness, lately?” 

I take a moment to process his choice of words before raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve been fidgety?”

 He nods his head and a small smile tugs at his lips. 

“Yeah, the last couple days you’ve seemed more on edge. Which– you know I understand considering things, but, it just seems…different.”

The way his smile flutters back down twists something in my chest, like someone has grabbed my heart and is wringing it. He can’t even mask his anxieties behind his typical charisma and grin…

I swallow thickly, in which I discover how unusually and suddenly dry my throat feels. I bring my hands closer together on my lap and start picking at the skin around one of my grown out thumbnails. 

“Wait–” I blink and flick my gaze over to him. He appears surprised while lifting my injured hand up.

“What happened here? This wasn’t on during the meeting.”

I look between the blood stained fabric and his face, baffled with every second that passes. 

How has he just now noticed this? At least a minute and a half has passed since his arrival. Certainly he would’ve swiftly caught on to the white encasing my hand…but apparently not. This does not dismiss his perturbation, however.

“I had a little accident is all.”

I slide my right hand over my knee but turn the one that's still situated under his around so I can intertwine our fingers together. It’s like I’m trying to prove the wound isn’t as bad as it seems by using the hand it resides on to touch him, even though there is a painful aftereffect because of it. 

“But I’m alright Julian, truly.” I blink and lift my gaze, managing a smile, a verisimilitude that is only half deceit. 

Visually I rake over his features, lingering on his eyes. Simultaneously, I listen to the aqua filling the space behind our bodies, like a white noise soothing the aching tension threatening to drown us. The way it cascades down is a balm to my soul. Never did I think I'd be horribly mimicking it within that next second, though. 

Because the way my body stumbles backward and crashes into the water is anything but graceful. 

And why am I suddenly taking an unsolicited swim– or more like drowning? Well, that is because, amidst our bittersweet moment, a wretched crow had spontaneously decided to scare the living daylights out of us by bursting from out the trees and zooming right over our heads, causing me to shriek in surprise and lose my balance on the fountain's edge, teetering backwards, legs flying into the air when my back met the water. 

I’ve dove within these waters before, but back then it was voluntary, not nature pushing my buttons and testing me like some trinket. This is more a Julian situation, not me. 

Within my watery hell, my heightened senses run amok. My eyes burn alongside my hand, and my chest twists in panic. 

The water around me is chilled, and yet, for whatever phenomenon, with the pounding against my chest, it feels as if it's starting to shift…warmer? No, that can’t be, why would it? It feels…familiar, being surrounded by pure element. 

At some point I swear I can hear screaming, alongside a thundering heartbeat. Am I the one screaming? Is it my heartbeat shrieking for help? Or, maybe it's Julians startled yelp at my sudden descent. Fortunately though, even with all my inner turmoil, it doesn’t take long until something splashes into the water after me.

My eyes just barely peek open enough to vaguely make out black, rippled hands reaching out for me. Frantically I latch onto the dark angels, and squeeze my eyes, ignoring the burning in my nostrils as I'm pulled up.

“OH MY– M/N ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!”

I have trouble fully registering Julians panicked voice as I find myself now kneeling on the ground, hand to my throat as I cough harshly. I had managed to close my mouth once gravity had betrayed me, however, that doesn’t mean I haven’t ingested enough to cause a painful effect.

My knees ache from the harsh impact of my body knocking into the ground thanks to Julian's saving grace. Sections of my back and arms aren’t spared in the matter, especially my hand which now stings and feels heavier with the weight of the saturated bandage. I believe that’s still the worst of my injuries, until a throb emits from the back of my head. I hear a gasp from Julian not long after this discovery. 

Before I can question anything, I feel something much warmer than the chilled water trickle down my scalp. I don’t think much about it until Julian speaks.

“Oh shit.”

Well that can’t mean anything good.

Now concerned, I bring a hand up and carefully feel over where the pain pulses. And what do you know, when that hand moves back down into my line of sight, bright crimson paints my finger tips, a droplet trickling down my middle finger and seeping into the fabric of my already red stained wrapping. Seems I hit my head much harder than I assumed. 

“How– how bad does it hurt? I-is your vision alright?”

His voice is shaky and he quickly moves himself in front of me in a mirroring kneeled position, a hand shooting up to connect with my shoulder.

Something inside me stirs…The lion denned down below growls at the same time a shiver runs throughout me, triggered by the faint tang of my life source. I blink multiple times to determine my answer to Julian's question before lifting my gaze up to him.

My vision is okay, thankfully. At least, I think it is. Surely I’m not hallucinating the startled look that paints Julians face when his eyes meet mine, one that melts into something akin to horror. A look of fearful familiarity. 

In fact, he looks so frightened it frightens me in return. And unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for me to realize why he’s adorned such an alarmed expression. It also doesn’t take long for me to look away, head turned to the ground to shield the terror inducers.

“M/N…y-your…eyes, your– pupils”

My body stiffens the second those words slip past his lips. 

I don’t need him to detail what is the matter for me to understand. 

The wind blows when I go to try and respond, causing my voice to shake as much as my body does from its decreased temperature.

“I…I know, I-”

I cut myself off with a sharp inhale through my teeth as my head throbs harsher than before, hand joining in a cacophony of agony. The wound crying blood hasn’t stopped, as I can now feel its path of sorrow soaking down my neck; trails of it slither down my jaw on each side. 

Julians lack of speech only worsens my ravaging anxiety, even if I understand it from a logical side. After all, he just came out here to comfort me, to find the answer to my obvious trepidation. But in return, he’s about to discover his lover is a monster, no better than the one that has been hot on our tails for the last week, give or take. 

My fingers fist my damp, blood soaked locks on the back of my head, ignoring the pain that shoots from the cut there as a result, all the while my other hand clenches my pant leg to get through the suffering. 

My chest heaves with my laboured breath, shoulders shuddering from the cold and the fear that shakes my core, not to mention the hunger. Oh, that hunger… it's only growing more and more by the second.

Every inhale is a metallic suffocation and I can faintly taste the aroma on my tongue, filling my senses. 

It’s just...so much, too much. And this is only my blood…

No animal blood, not even the best of the best, the freshest source, has caused me to feel this…ravenous. 

What would happen if Julian was injured? 

“M/N..!”

Though…there was that one time I'd fallen into the reddened waters and Julian transferred my leech-induced injuries to himself; his life source was the most delectable thing I'd ever had the grace of inhaling…

Something shuffles in front of me, inching closer.

“Hey- look at me.”

I can’t lose myself around him, I can't hurt him. 

My first instinct as a pale hand rises up into my line of sight is to flinch away and smack it weakly. It’s as if my body went on autopilot. And apparently a pale hand usually encased by black is a threat.

When I lift my head up at the closed lip gasp, however, I’m snapped back into the moment and reminded that what's there is no monster out to get me, but Julian. 

Julian is anything but a monster.

His, now degloved, hand hovers inches in front of my body, frozen in a paused hesitance from whatever he was planning to do before I spooked him with my blunt display of fright. 

Those apprehensive greys meet with my watery, slit-pupiled E/C’s. He still seems quite alarmed, maybe even mildly annoyed by the swat, however, it's mostly clouded by heavy concern with his bottom lip just slightly jutted out.

I manage to keep my eyes on him this time around, as difficult as it is. I don’t know how he can even look at me like this. Sure, all that’s happened was my pupils shifted into an attribute that is strikingly inhuman, and there are plenty of not-so-human creatures around, but I'm not one of those. At least...I think I’m not.

In the silence, he seems to garner I was decently calmer, and continues his hands’ journey without saying anything, much to my surprise. 

Gently, he slides the hand over my jaw, holding the side of my face with fingers running up through my sideburn. His thumb wipes away at some water droplets faintly tinted red. 

My eyes fall down to the direction of his hand, feeling the comforting way it slides up to the back of my head until it reaches my hand still gripping my hair. He doesn’t have to say anything for me to understand his motive.

Trembling, I release my hold, granting quite the relief from the excess pain it created, however the remaining amount does anything but subside. In fact, it feels a little worse. 

But then, his hand replaces where mine once was, and it’s only when I feel the graze of his fingertips against my cut scalp do I render that he had removed the glove on that hand. 

My mind catches up with what he's about to do, and so I listen and comply when he asks me to take a deep breath. 

After I do, I watch the center of his neck emit a bright white glow, revealing the intricate sigil there. 

The sensation of my wound closing is surprisingly weightless, with nothing but a pressure prickling my flesh.

It doesn’t take long for the wound to transfer over to him, and I can tell when it has by the way his face scrunches in mild pain. 

The mark fades away when he brings his now bloodied hand down onto my shoulder.

“There, does that feel better?”

He hisses with a meek, crooked smile.

I give him a small nod of agreement, tugging my own smile. But then, it hits me.

That sweet, sweet, tangy iron. My mouth waters and my lips part, and that familiar dull ache shoots through my top and bottom gums.

I’m able to catch myself by curling my lips in and turning my head away, shooting a hand up to conceal my mouth, as if that’ll prevent the slithering serpent of red from wafting into my senses and enveloping my being, taunting me with its enticing essence. 

Though he didn’t quite catch what I was hiding, Julian still recognizes my returning distress and sweeps his own troubles to the side.

“M/N, what’s wrong? Are you hurt elsewhere?”

I take a moment before I shake my head. Julian rightfully so doesn’t take that for an answer.

“C’mon the silent treatment isn’t doing you any good.”

More seconds pass. But I eventually give in and lift my eyes.

His hand over my shoulder rises up to hold the side of my face once more, a sweet gesture that unfortunately brings the blood closer to my face, a big ol’ no, no in my already sensitive state. 

Based on Julians reaction to my deep, shaky inhale, I had a notable reaction to it, which he managed to catch the cause of with a few experimental glances down to his hand and my expression. Thankfully he pulls it away, wiping the blood off onto his pant leg.

He lingers on my irises for a bit.

“I..”

A sharp exhale exists him, and his eyebrows scrunch at the throb of pain from, what is now his, injury.

“I don’t exactly understand what’s going on here,”

He tilts his head in a gesturing manner obviously to my eyes.

“And in all honesty I'm a little freaked out. But,”

His other hand gently slides over one of my own, gripping it and rubbing his thumb over my damp knuckles. His once freaked expression melts into concern, the fear only lingering around in the background of his sincere feelings.

“There’s got to be something I can do to help you.”

His words are so earnest, so much that I just about start crying on the spot. Somehow I manage it. 

“Maybe start off by bringing me inside to dry off.” I huff, strained, and airy, almost like a chuckle, and hang my head down with a sniffle. The corners of my lips tug, muscles daring to try and form a smile, but I resist it, I stuff it back down. It feels too deceitful, like I'm distracting him from the horrors that lay thinly beneath this veil I call restraint and dignity. 

“Right, right, of course.”

With a wavering, nervous, grin, Julian holds my waist to help me rise up to my feet, somehow only blushing a little at it. I’m still trembling from head to toe, but it isn’t severe enough that I cannot hold my own.

“If I had my coat on me I’d wrap you with it.”

He comments in the way of an apology as we pass through the rest of the garden. I breathe out and tell him I'm alright, the biggest, fattest lie anyone and everyone could see through, especially him.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders and holds me close to his side the entire walk into the palace. He doesn’t seem to care one bit that I’m drenching his clothes. He also doesn’t seem to care much for the still oozing cut on his scalp. Though in all honesty, it's definitely not as bad as before. In the end however, his thoughts toward his injury are much different than mine. 

While he simply waits for it to heal, I desire to lap that beautiful crimson up like a cotton mouthed animal in desperate need of the freshest spring water to ever grace this earth. 

Hell, I even catch myself staring at the back of his head at some point when he’s distracted trying to hide us away from a passing guard. Probably smart to not draw attention, I don't know what I'd do if that were to happen in this near-trance-like state I find myself whirlwind in. 

Surprisingly, we are not spotted by anyone by the time we reach my room. 

“Do you uhm…want me to wait out here while you change?”

Julian asks me as we pass just enough through the doorway of my room. He’s remained latched to me with a strong yet gentle hold, eyes awkwardly darting to the side with equally flushed down-lipped expression. 

I blink and stare off at the ground, squeezing the fabric of his sleeve. The decision is much harder than it needs to be. 

Would I rather have him stand outside while I dress, possibly risking someone spotting him and questioning as to why he's a little wet and bleeding, let alone standing outside my door? Or have him stay in here, to possibly see me in a more undressed state— which of course isn’t a negative in the light of things or really anything ever —or worst of all, have me lose control over the smell of his blood and attack him? I’ve never attacked someone but…clearly tonight something is not quite right with me. 

“M/N?”

Julian's voice calling my name pulls me back and I look up to him. My pupils must still be slitted or they’ve at least returned to that state based on the way his lips flatten slightly and his jaw tightens. It’s subtle, but I notice it right away.

My dark browns flick about his features, taking a quick glance towards the direction of his bleeding scalp before letting out a shaky sigh. 

“I’d prefer if you…”

I swallow thickly, my throat feeling dry again. My hand tightens on his sleeve, fisting it as harshly as I can.

“Stay..”

I breathe out the word almost needily. 

It takes him a second, but Julian gradually nods his head, face shifting around in an obvious flushed display. 

“Alright, if that’s what you want.”

The soft thud of Julian shutting the door is second to register in my mind. I keep myself turned away from him, only taking a glance back to check that his gaze is averted, which he obliges to after one quick cheeky smirk.

I roll my eyes with a tug of my lips, however it quickly falters without a conscious thought. 

With my hands crossed over my chest and rubbing the sides of my arms, I look back in front of me and take a deep breath. 

Inhale…1…2…3. 

Exhale…1…2…3.

Below, the beast rumbles. 

Shut up, when will you just shut up.

I ignore the hummed growl that emits from the back of my throat with gritted teeth, hoping Julian hadn’t heard it, and head for my closet in search of fresher clothing.

His heartbeat is so loud….

My bare chest heaves up and down, center thumping like a wild creature. Air raggedly escapes in a speed midpoint to the race of reaching hyperventilation. Droplets of sweet roll down my temple, and my back, and my chest and…everywhere. 

I feel hot…I feel…hungry. 

A pathetic whine sings in the air as I lift my arms up and hook my hands together over the back of my neck, leaning forward with closed eyes.

This neediness is growing worse and worse by the second. And he’s making it no better.

His blood is making it no better.

“You almost done there M/N? You’re surely taking your time.”

My eyes shoot open and I hitch my breath. In an attempt to regain some composure, I swallow thickly, tasting the overwhelming metallic tang of his nectar. 

“Uhm, j-just about.”

I reply in a quiet, trembling voice. Wow, I sound utterly pitiful. 

I hadn’t meant for it to take as long as it has, however, amidst the duration I just haven’t been able to tear my mind from the irony scent lingering in the air. 

His wound has stopped bleeding, I can literally smell it, but despite a part of me being glad he’s no longer in harm, another part of me– one that's much too close to the forefront now– wishes to inflict more just to get another hint of that precious substance…

I shake my head, heavily disturbed by my thoughts. Theres...there's no way I just seriously considered hurting Julian for something so heinous. 

But, oh how tempting it is.

The gums holding my canines ache, shooting numbly through the teeth. I grip my locs tightly, enough to rip out a few good hairs. 

A cat loves fish, but is wary to wet her feet. 

And yet..

A hungry belly has no ears.

Body and mind tussle, an endless battle that I've dealt with for years. And yet, all of their previous matches pale in comparison to the one that quakes my soul now. 

I am both the devil and the angel on my shoulders. 

With a shuddering deep breath, I manage myself enough to finish dressing.

Finally, I give Julian the green light as I swiftly shuffle over to my bed, facing away from him. I have sat down by the time he finds me with head averted. I can feel as his eyes trace about my figure, inspecting my outfit of choice. 

It’s nothing too special, just a simple purple silk top with golden accents and matching bottoms to go along– bed clothing obviously lended by Nadia and castle staff. I have the top two buttons undone however, and one side of my collar is flipped up. I’m aware of it but I just can’t care to bother with it right now.  

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything other than your usual get-up.”

He comments as he crosses his arms over his still damp, chest, looking over at me where he's stood only a foot and a half from the bed. 

My own arms mimic his stance but with much more tension stringing my bow, tapping my finger against the smooth expanse of my sleeves. Julians grey eyes briefly flick down to my body before returning back up to my face with a softly knitted brow. 

“And there you go bouncing your leg. You do that a lot, you know.”

I only give a glance down to my lap and let out a small sigh.

It doesn’t take long until Julian takes his place beside me, making sure to keep some distance while still maintaining enough that it doesn't feel like he's actively avoiding me. The sensation of the mattress dipping under his weight with his presence beside me is both strangely comforting and nerve wracking. 

Like some little kid I just sit there, fiddling my thumbs, leg ceaseless in its display of anxiety. My mind races like a cheetah hunting a gazelle; beast dashing through the grasslands of the savanna in pursuit of a snack. But…I’m not quite sure I know which one I am. The starving beast with fangs and claws bared, ready to pounce at any second? Or the frightened prey, dashing for its life with looming death hot on its tail? 

I must’ve been so lost in this mind tribulation as eventually I was snapped out of it by Julian…again. 

“Do you- mind me asking about what that was back there?”

I blink twice and meet his eyes. My fingers twitch on each arm they rest, rubbing and scratching the silk fabric, and just overall struggling to remain idle. My eccentric leg is no halter either.

I swallow thickly, a lump forming in my still vaguely dry throat. Is my breath catching up again? And is…

“Julian?”

I blink a couple times, leg shaking faster. My anxieties heightens like a missile at the manner in which he stares at me.

He….he’s horrified? Terror-stricken.

A painted scene of that same frightened look of recognition returns but ten times stronger. He literally flinched, hell, I might even say jumped, when I looked at him. I’ve never seen such an alarmed expression on him, maybe aside from the time he saw Valdemar semi-recently.

“J-julian, what's wrong?”

By this point he hasn’t said a word. It’s as if his oxygen has been stripped away from him. 

Why’s he so scared? What about me is provoking such an extreme reaction? I hate it, I hate it so much and he won’t say a damn thing–

“M/N—”

I inhale sharply and hold it, apprehensively awaiting him to finish with wide, fearful eyes of my own. That only seems to make it worse.

He blinks and swallows, as if he simply cannot believe what he’s seeing, like he's viewing something he dreaded ever laying eyes on again.

“Your…your eyes—you’re..”

Damn it boy, I already know about my pupils. But, why would those suddenly frighten him if he already saw them before?

“Scleras,”

My–scleras? The, white parts? What about them–

“They’re red, like….just like the plague victims.”

….

What?...

Oh…oh no.

This happened before, once. And that was three years ago. 

I was still getting used to…whatever this is, and I'd gone without blood for much too long, similar to now but more self inflicted then. Although Asra tried his best to hide it from me at the moment, I had managed a glimpse of myself in a mirror and witnessed a truly horrifying sight. Something more horrifying than my already crumbling state. 

The white of my eyes were tinted red, but It had thankfully gone away once I had a lot of blood. That day had been one of my worst days yet, with that gnawing hunger and an awful onslaught of headaches. I’d even passed out at some point.

So, referencing that to now, experiencing the same time frame of bloodlessness, mixed with stress and smelling Julians blood so closely— aka the most intoxicating blood I’ve ever smelled —does that mean…it’s happening once more?

Seems I can no longer contain this secret beast. I must free it– no, I must just…let him view it as it's locked up in its cage. It’s…barely put together cage, one that's bars are creaking and falling weaker by the second. 

This confrontation. He knows this strange part of me now, even just this glimpse. I can’t run from it, can’t hide it from him. Not anymore. 

Fingers bruisingly dig into my sleeves and my leg bouncing stops, only for me to squeeze it against the other. Strands of my hair fall in my face as I stare back down at my lap, mind returning to that endlessly spinning carousel of madness. 

Somehow, by some miracle, I’m able to contain myself. I squeeze my eyes shut just as I feel hot tears stinging behind them. I tighten my arms around my torso to the point I feel my nails digging in through my shirt, and with a struggling deep breath, I spit out something of an explanation.

“Julian I…” I don’t even dare lift my head to look at him, not once. I only squeeze my eyes further.

“I don’t really know how to…explain this- I mean, I don’t know why this is happening– it’s occurred once before– but,”

I feel the need to take another deep breath, so I do, inhaling deeply and exhaling just as much but with a heightening tremor. 

“I’m not…normal. I mean, I- don’t think I'm completely…”

I have to choke the last word out of me.

“human.”

I lift a hand up to cover my eyes, but with just a moment I somehow gather the courage to check out his reaction, peeking out through my hands from which I have now propped my elbows on my knees. Unsurprisingly, he’s quite perplexed. He stares at me with those gorgeous grey eyes held up by sleep deprivation and stress as if I've grown a second head. It’d be wrong to say I blame him.

“..Really?..”

I nod my head, jaw clenching. His eyes drill into mine, I can tell he is observing them once more. I didn’t know my heart could beat so intensely. It feels as if it may just burst out the confinements of my chest any second.  

Unable to sit still, I straighten up, hands going down to my knees and rubbing them back and forth while letting out a heavy breath, trying mostly to dispel the threatening waterfall. 

“I-I know how bad that sounds. I know how awful this…looks. But…unfortunately, I'm dead serious.”

Very unfortunate indeed.

“When I first woke up three years ago, my memories and headaches weren’t the only things that arose. I also gained an…appetite.”

I adjust myself uncomfortably on the bed, shifting my legs and continually rubbing my knees, all with averted eyes.

“An…appetite?”

Julian repeats, sounding just as concerned as he is confused. He’s settled some, however that anxiety wafts off him in waves like a stench. Not to mention how quick his heart still beats, loud and clear. Might I even claim it’s rather distracting.

“Yes. A hunger for something unusual and gross, even.”

Yet again, on que, my empty stomach growls, but this time I feel something new; a quick spike of pain, like a cramping sensation. I wrap my arms around my waist, lightly clenching it in the far off hope of soothing it.

Because that’s absolutely what I need right now; new, concerning symptoms. Hopefully it’s just the anxiety. Hopefully.

“Since my awakening, I’ve needed to consume blood, Julian.”

I watch those grey eyes expand with a mix of emotions my brain scrambles to decipher. Is he disgusted? Scared? Still worried? He should be experiencing all of those, otherwise I might actually be concerned. Sure, he’s a doctor, a little blood isn’t to bother him– but to hear someone, a human, claim they need such a thing to ingest in order to live would bother any person in their right mind. 

“I know what you’re thinking,”

Is the first thing I blurt out before he can peep a word. Hot tears begin to prickle my eyes again so I look down to try and distract from their looming arrival, plus in a hope that Julian won’t see them. 

“It’s disgusting, vile, wrong. And I know that.”

I grind my teeth, only worsening the subtle aching that’s taunted me since the flow of Julians blood had my breath hitching a moment prior.

“Besides, Asra has always brought back animal blood, nothing more.”

Making that clear is as important as ridding Julian out as a suspect in the murder. 

“Asra knows of this?”

He sounds much more taken aback by this than expected. I immediately flick my eyes over and shoot him a mildly surprised look. He still appears irked by my, presumably, still red scleras and more than likely slit pupils.

“Of course he knows, after all he's the one that was there when I woke up. He’s the one who's helped me through this.”

Julian’s face adorns a quizzically skeptical look.

“How exactly had he gone about sourcing the blood?”

I open my mouth to answer but nothing croaks out. My memories rewind and I'm quickly reminded of something by my own conscience. 

“I mean, I never knew exactly. However, he would never go out and just– slaughter an animal.”

In my pounding heart of sorrow, I feel him scoot closer to me. Out the corner of my watery eye a hand comes into view to find my own. He gently grasps it, as if silently asking if he was allowed to, and when I hesitantly release the fabric and turn it over, he brings it over onto his own lap.

I watch the way he stares down at our connection, letting out a heavy, wavering sigh. 

The fact that he's willing to touch me now just worsen my waterworks. 

“So..this truly isn’t some joke?”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“Sorry, sorry It’s just..” He sighs out.

“A lot. But it’s not like you can fake the…eyes.”

I sniffle and blink a few more times in an attempt to dispel the lachryma that floods my eyes. Oh, how I despise being within this state, emotions just barely tipping over the edge, nerves shot like a lighting strike victim. 

Ultimately, I don’t blame him for questioning me, even though I'm sure he trusts me well. As much as it pains me to even acknowledge the fact, what I am, what I do, its not pretty, and it, understandably, frightens others. Even myself.

“Yes, and I’d certainly never dare fabricate such a thing.”

A sigh leaves me.

“Though I desperately wish it was.”

A few seconds of silence pass, consisting of me trying my best to control my breathing. I exhale out, and it’s trailed by a much harsher growl from my rumbling stomach, and alongside it returns that bursting cramp. It feels worse than the first time it occurred moments ago—just by a smidge, but nonetheless noticeable. It’s more akin to being jabbed with a needle than a little poke.

I’m afraid this may be more than anxiety. 

“I’m assuming that has to do with it?” Julian asks almost hesitantly. His eyes lock onto the way my other hand snakes around to grip at my stomach. The fabric of my bed shirt wrinkles within my fist, the silk shining in the warm, dim lighting. 

No, this isn’t anxiety, it’s growing vicious. It isn’t like my first outburst, it’s worse.

Was I always at risk of this? Teetering close to the edge of…perhaps lashing out for missing so many days? I’ve eaten food more suitable to any normal human diet— maybe lacking here and there —but why would it affect me this badly? 

Swallowing the hollow yet tight lump in my throat, I do my best to answer him.

“For the most part, it seems so. But…” Another swallow, as if my saliva will conquer this insatiable thirst. 

“Something does feel different..”

Another small growl fades into a subtle whine that I force myself to bite back at the end, though I'm sure Julians ears caught it. Part of me desperately wishes to push it down, push it all down and away from anyone to witness. And yet, another part is screaming to just let go. To bare this vulnerability out for him, to expose every part while observing his reaction, aching for reassurance and love.  

So, I describe it to him. I tell Julian all these new symptoms, yearning that he’ll not be any more frightened than I’ve already made him with this revelation.

“One thing that is the most important of all I must confess is,”

I inhale deeply, eyes on my lap.

“I’m sorry.”

“I-i’m sorry that I’m dragging you into this, that you’re to carry this burden with me.”

My voice releases shakily, my entire body trembling like a chilled mimic. Jeez, you’d think I was about to combust from the severity. And yet, this doesn’t appear to be a bother to my companion.

Julians thumb gently rubs over the back of my own, his warmth and comfort intoxicating. A part of me tries to relax but that animal just will not be muzzled.

I gradually suck in what’s an attempt at a controlled breath, nostrils flaring with the intake of rickety oxygen.

When my eyes find him, he speaks.

“M/N.”

My jaw grows taut and I nudge my head down.

“Don’t ever apologize for something like this. From what you’ve told me, you can’t control it really.”

My hand tightens within his and those tears become harder to hold back.

A chuckle then quirks his lips up into a slight grin and he looks to the side, appearing as if he’s contemplating something that’s swirling on the tip of his tongue, hesitance the only thing tethering it from thoughtless freedom.

An eyebrow of mine knits inward. A cheetah spots a gazelle.

“Is- ..something wrong?”

Julian squirms in his spot, very unsure.

"Ah just a uh, passing thought. Nothing much.”

Yeah, I don't buy that.

Curiosity piqued, my body shimmies to face him head on a little more. My hand adjusts in his, a subtle sign of a growing comfortability that I hope he catches onto. 

“Are you sure, Julian?”

I queer with a light sniffle and slanted eyes.

And there’s that signature look. Averted, downcast greys, with paled cheeks rosy and the corners of his lips reluctant to form a sheepish smile.

I catch him sneaking a glance over at me, which I reciprocate with full eye contact, that of which he turns down. A sigh rushes through and out his nose and he grins gauchely.

“Well, considering things. I thought that…well since you’re..”

He looks to me as if I have the answer to his elusive term. Apparently I did, as, right on queue, my stomach growls and expresses recognition. In addition, the spike of pain and a weakening wave shocks through me. I stuff it down as much as I'm capable, though psychically I wince.

“Hungry, Iii could, help out?”

My eyes narrow further in query while he only shoots the proposition back. It’s the third pain and louder rumble of my gut that sparks a more than likely possibility. And to that my configuration of abnormal features that i call my eyes widen. 

Instead of speech, I merely meet his curious eyes, in those which I spot a mix of something else. Something familiar but In the fogginess of my need and emotions I can't pin wholly.

“What- do you mean by that?”

That stupid grin only widens, the awkwardness very gradually dissipating. 

“Ah, you know, you need to drink blood right?”

I slowly nod.

“And you go about doing that by biting people.”

My brows crinkle.

“Julian– I’ve never bitten anyone or any creature for that matter. I thought I made that clear already.”

He clears his throat at my reminder, eyes darting to the side.

“Right, you did. But that doesn’t mean you can’t. I mean– you can bite people, as I’ve learned.”

That cheeky grin prompts a warmth to creep up my neck. I know good and well what he is referencing, my mind flashes back to that moment in the Hanged Man's realm. 

As much as I try to dispel it, my own little smirk tweaks my lips, not to mention the brief fluttering in my chest. The scene replays in my head. One moment I'm watching this charming goof recalling a supposedly genuine tell, the next he’s tumbling down and into a tangle of dark vines. A tingle flitters through my system at the mental image of him laying there beneath me, how he writhed and could only let out breathy words with just some nibbles. 

I could almost choke on the excess of saliva I swallow that fills my mouth. 

I have to take a deep breath to calm myself down, though in all honesty It doesn’t help as much as I desire.

“Julian.”

His attention is on me and he just barely tilts his head.

“Are you suggesting you want me to bite you so I could drink your blood?”

His grin only widens, and I swear I am witnessing in real time as his cheeks flush. Not to mention that roguish look; unadulterated, sauciness with a crooked smile and sky-high brow.

“Would It be bad if I said yes?”

Those now anxiously anticipating grays lock with mine. He wants this way more than he should. But this isn’t like the other times. Im not sure how I managed to hold back then, but for all things good, I’ll be sucking his blood in the process, stripping away a lot of his life source. Yes, his body can just— make more, but unfortunately it’s not quite that simple.

“Actually, it might be. Because that's the problem, Julian; It’s incredibly risky.”

I breathe out heavily, turning my head down. There starts that cycle again, hesitance in the face of choosing between need or destruction. Either I risk someone else, someone I loves, health for my own grotesque needs, or starve until I die or loose control.

Why must I endure the misfortune of dealing with such crazy decisions…

….wait.

Julian loosens his grip to swipe his thumb over my knuckles, sensing my uncertainty.

"But— you know, as much as I want it, I understand if you’re not up for it. After all you were just about spilling tears moments ago so–”

“I’ll do it.”

He blinks in surprise, but in time, those eyes are sequently filled with a spark of disbelieving elation; skepticism rather sparse.

"Really?"

thu-dump thu-dump thu-dump thu-dump

Beating and tiny, rushing rivers of mortality deluge my head, swarming my senses like lotus in a plauge.

"You can heal yourself."

E/C floating in red lock onto his chest; little by little they drag up, prolonging attention to his neck before duly finding his face; eyes sharp with need.

I can't tell who heart beats more wildly.

"So yes, I'm positive."

Julians eyes rake over me, taking in the increasing desperation that saturates every crevice of my body. From the way I painfully grip his ungloved hand, nails digging into his palm and trembling, to how I stare him down like a hungry lion.

Theres a slight quiver to his chest when he inhales, although I'm fairly certain it's not fear. Or perhaps it's a mix, a blend only a select amount of people posses.

"Well then,"

He glances back at the closed door before returning to me.

"What're you waiting for?"

Wearing a devilishly charming smirk, I watch as this little freak pulls the white collar of his already half undone shirt to the side, further exposing his neck to me. As embarrassing as it is to admit, the sight causes me to salivate. But I don't quite allow instinct to take over yet.

Shaking my head, my senses floods back to the forefront of my brain and I hesitate with a clenched jaw.

"Maybe I should start with your wrist instead.” I suggest, looking at the appendage.

"Going straight for your jugular is—"

"Incredibly dangerous, I know, I know. I'm doctor, M/N, I know what and whats not more likely to cause me to drop dead."

Still remains the Impish look. He's really not backing down.

“Though if we’re being honest dying while satisfying you sounds like the best way to go.” He winks with a chuckle.

"But in all seriousness, if you're more comfortable with that, go right ahead."

My heart skips a beat.

With a blink, I focus on his now extended wrist. His other hand pursues it's fairly tight hold within my own, firm with what I can only assume is nervous anticipation.

Hypnotic is the tune that his veins produce as I grab a firm but considerate hold of his arm and scoot my body closer. I'm breathing so hard one might fear I'll steal all the oxygen in the air.

From the way I've positioned myself, my shoulder rests against his chest; I can feel and hear his heartbeat clear as day, a beating melody humming away my sorrows. And while it surely occupies my mind, my body is much too distracted by how close I am to achieving what I've been depraved of this long.

Hot, hefty air fans across the side of my face and neck, near equally as intense as my own. But nothing could beat the galloping caged in my chest.

Despite my intense needs, I find myself in a staring contest with his wrist for some concerning time. I might even claim I am..admiring it. It's hard to pinpoint what exactly my blood-lusting brain is fixated on, aside from the obvious being that pale, veiny skin. That of which my canines ache as they elongate in real time.

At this puzzling sight, Julian wets his lips slowly with a thick swallow and goes to speak but it promptly cut off.

My mouth has finally wrapped around his wrist and with the fangs I now adorn, I puncture his thin flesh easily. Above me Julian gasps sharply with a tremble. His body is tense, arm taut with seering pain, hand unsure whether to close or remain open; but nevertheless, he doesn't make a move to reject it.

I pull out my fangs after realizing keeping them in prevents better blood flow, and Instead simply suck on the wound as if it were a deep rooted straw.

It feels weird, disgusting even, yet, immaculate at the same time.

Indulging on a raw meal is gourmet level compared to a packaged deal from formally deceased animals. Feasting on something live ignites an instinct deep within me.

It's like I've been revived, life buzzing through me with every slurp of the dam of red that bursts onto my tongue, engulfing it with a metallic tang. The mind numbing aroma and flavor dance on my senses, filling me to the brim with relief and ecstasy from this first taste alone.

Stifling the pleased moan that I breathe out is near impossible. All I can think about is the body beneath me and the delight that flows through it and onto my taste buds.

Julian huffs out a small chuckle.

"Careful there, you might just might bite my hand off."

He hisses in pain once again, yet it's followed by another breathy moan.

"You're sure you've never done this before?"

All I can muster is a shake of my head. It sparks an urge to tear at his flesh like some rabid dog, to jerk side to side, but of course that's excessive. All I need right now is blood, not skin or meat. That doesn't dispell the pleasure of sinking into them though.

A fusion of Saliva and crimson trickle down my chin and Julian's arm in a beautiful swirl of haunting color, like a macabre mixing of paint.

A rustle of Julian's body soon reveals itself to be him lifting his free hand up to place atop my head. I feel its weight and the way his finger gently dig into my locks. The digits curl under thick strands and tighten around as I lap at the blood, jaw muscles growing tired from sucking.

I feel his chest stutter at this and the airy whine of pain and filthy pleasure he releases do my wild heart and puffy breathe no good. So much so it stirs something unexpected below.

This causes me to pause for a moment and to snap back into reality. My tongue halts mid drag over one of the perforations and my eyes flutter open.

So much for poking fun at him for enjoying this..

Something akin to a whimper of disappointment leaves Julian by my sudden departure at violating his throbbing arm.

"Is something wrong? Is that really all you needed?"

I drag the back of my shaky hand across my stained lips, smearing crimsion without care. Plopping said hand into my lap— too focused on Julian to process the fact that I'm transferring blood onto my clothing —I look up at him with a near half lidded gaze.

"No…no thats- not enough."

I swallow thickly, savoring his taste.

"I just.."

My eyes catch his neck again, to the bright light of his mark, and my entire body shudders with an inhale, pupils fluctuating like a cats eye.

Something in me takes over and before I know it I've lurched forward and latched onto his nape like a rabid beast. My legs situate themselves on either side of his, straddling his thighs.

Julian chokes out a yelp of pain, but much like before, it's quickly melted into delight. If I didn't know him any better and if it weren't for our past transgressions, I'd be rather appaled by his reactions.

The sensation of having my tongue pressed firmly against the junction of his neck as I greedily slurp at the blood pooled around my fangs, is invigorating; his squirms and overall inability to remain still only stimulates my need.

My nails bite into his shoulder, while the other pair dents the opposite side of his neck.

Julian mutters out a profanity beneath his breathe and shakily sucks in air through gritted teeth. The back of my silky top and sleeve scrunchies beneath his hold, begging for more in the way he grips me.

I can only imagine how this looks from an outsiders point of view. One man sat atop the other much too closely while sucking on the bottom one's neck like a leech, all the while lewd noises produce from both, causing the scene to appear much more intimate than it is. Or…like it is.

I can only be distracted by my feast for so long till I truly start questioning just how much Julian likes this.

The short and most honest answer is that he does. Of course this little freak does. And yet, I'm still entertaining it. Of course I have to, lest I starve— because even with the amount I've had thus far, I haven't quenched that thirst completely. But even then, I myself find my own joy in stirring such reactions out of him.

At some point, he leans back, bringing his one hand off my shoulder to slam onto the bed behind him to support our combined weight. He lets out a groan, and for the first time since I'd sank my fangs in, I blink my eyes open.

Just for a moment I pause and lift my head up mid swallow. Blood grotesquely dribbles off my lips and right onto our combined laps, neither of us which bat an eye to.

My entire body feels like it's vibrating, even as I simply sit here, panting like I just scaled a mountain. Though if I'm being honest, the scene in front of me Is just as— if not more —breathtaking. Julian, leaning back on a wobbling arm, staring up at me, hair slightly tousled with blood streaming out of a vicious bitch mark on his neck, with his heaving chest and shining skin faintly illuminated by his activated symbol. God…and that look on his face.

If it weren't for his facial features you'd get lost in the sea of red that is his hair and flaming skin. Those eyes look more drunken than I am on his essence, a gaze of tranquility that melts into him ogling with a wide grin.

"You're…"

He swallows thickly, gasping out from the intensity of his laboured respiring.

It seems he's unable to get his words out as he then just falls silent, gawking at me, even going as far as to give me a once over. He drags his hand down from my shoulder to my side; I can feel it trembling.

Shifting his lower body presumably to get more comfortable, he shortly after quirks his eyebrow up higher, as if he's caught wind of something.

Puzzled I lightly shake my head and gulp, sdam's apple bobbing to help the blend of saliva and blood travel down my throat.

"W-what? Is something wrong?"

My voice comes out hoarser than expected, even with my audibly clear panting and the adrenaline rush controlling me.

"No, no, everything is fine, perfectly fine. I'm quite positive the both of us are enjoying ourselves plenty, in fact."

I squint my eyes at his impish look, but then it hits me. Or more like I feel it.

I blink and my eyes broaden. That damn grin just about takes up the entirety of his face, like he's going 'yeah you feel it too now, huh?'

I truly am way into this..

But you know what? Fuck it.

"What, have you had your fill already?" He huffs out. He's trying to act more cocky and flirty but that lingering trail of desperation in him remains; In the way his grip tightens on my side and that flicker in those grays.

And who am I to dismiss his needs, especially when they fulfill my own alongside it?

I flick a quick glace down to his healing neck.

"Nowhere near."

With a low growl I grab a firm hold of his face and press his lips to mine; blood drips down his chin in session.

The second we collide, I press my fingers against the closing punctures in his neck to prevent them from sealing. Instantly Julian jolts up, groaning into my mouth. No pain deters him however as he persists to kiss me, as a matter of fact, he clasps his own hand over mine and pushes my fingers further against his wound. It weeps as a result but that seems to be exactly what he was wanting.

And my god does this only rile me up even more.

I push him back to lay flat against the bed, all while barely separating my bloodied lips from his. He flinches and for a moment I can't quite pinpoint exactly why, considering the overstimulation of things, but when I taste a new wave of iron, I realize I've bitten his lip.

I pull up to view the injury, wherein I'm met with Julian's hot breath fanning heavily against my face and much too of an excited look that any man should adore in this situation.

But not every man is Julian. Isn't that a blessing?

The corners of my lips tug up in amusement. Just his reactions alone are enlivening.

I don't bother to brush back the falling strands of hair as I lean down.

"You're quite the filthy man, you know."

I tease in a hushed tone, as if the idea of even the moon hearing our debauchery was a sin.

This only compels him to snicker lightly, gaze flittering over my features as if looking away would curse him.

"Nothing wrong with having a bit of dirt under your nails. Only shows how tough you are."

I quirk my head at this comment.

Without warning I plunge my nails further into his healing neck, opening the wound right before it closes.

My face and the underside of my neck glow brighter as he releases a pathetic groan followed by a groin tingling whine.

"So tough guys like having their neck gnawed on while flush to another guys dick and chest?”

To remind him of our position, I nudge my hips down and press our crotches together, earning another tasteful sound from him in the form of a swallowed gasp.

He bites his lip just to release it remembering the cut there, only for him to hook his teeth back over it as if realizing he liked it. Which he definitely did.

"If that makes me a tough guy, then absolutely."

Slim fingers snake up my hips, thumbs digging into the sliver of my flesh exposed under my flopping shirt; nails bite the start of my ass boldly.

"So go on boy, don't be shy and make me bleed some more."

Oh its on.

Without a second thought I run my tongue over my teeth and delve back in. Our mouths collide again— I make sure to give his slit lip a tug before venturing down.

Peck, peck, pecking down his chin, under his jaw and eventually to his adams apple I go, with fingers that slip away from his neck to be replaced by my elongated canines, sinking into the sea of paleness.

Illumination sparks back up out the corner of my eye— its reappearance fans the building heat in my core; The flames lick at my insides similarly to how I assault Julians wounds.

A fistful of my hair is squeezing before relaxing enough to just be massaging through the locks. Semi-subconsciously I mimic his movement by clutching his, craning his neck back for easier access.

Julian's muscle tense and his hips press skyward against mine, and to that I reciprocate it almost instantly while humming against his skin.

"Am I getting to you that badly?"

My thighs clamp on either side of his, not to keep him still, but rather to increase the stimulation. While sucking on the juncture of his neck I just barely simulate a soft grinding motion, savoring the hummed moan he squeaks out.

"Fuck, keep doing that.."

The whimpery tone literally causes my knees to buck in a little, not to mention the quaver when that profanity left his half-swollen lips.

My body moves up with his as he arches his back in response to me digging my fangs further into his flesh, causing nearly all my teeth to push through. Its not like you could blame a guy, not when you have a sweaty, whiny redhead falling apart under you and begging to keep getting grinded and bitten.

Hesitant shallow brushes of heat now turn into experimental drags that hold a good bit more force behind them.

Our hips stutter together, his more than mine, though albeit my shakiness transcends my prior assumption.

To this, Julian doesn't hold back and returns my gratitude, stoking those burning flames within me to transform into a blazing inferno.

Desire, hot like a river of lava streams down to my groin, growing hotter and hotter with each press of contact, which is now every second.

I almost choke on his blood at one particular grind that holds quite the friction behind it. His neck vibrates with the open mouthed moan I produce as a result of it.

By this point I'm baffled he can handle how much I've gnawed on him. His nerves must be screaming, body confused as to why he's ignoring it. Ooorr maybe his body isn't confused because it's in a lewd deal with his dirty consciousness. All I know is no normal person would go on as long as we have.

And dignity? Neither of us know such a thing. Not now anyways.

Like a creature overtaken by some mind controlling parasite, I suddenly nip at his earlobe. I end up smearing blood all over the area with more spurts out of where I was corrupting his jugular.

Considering I don't want him to die however, back in the fingers go, plunging a little deeper than necessary.

"Ahck!- that hurts-!"

His beautiful voices breaks.

"Oh, but you like it."

I mumble breathlessly into his ear.

Those bloody lips curve, flashing pink tinted teeth. Quickly though, it's thwarted by another projected moan when I rub the punctures and our crotches simultaneously.

"Don't stop, please."

I notice a wetness building up within his eyes, the organs shining with the forming tears of a maschocist.

So I obey.

Continuing the even pace I've set at, my hips keep at their work in sync with his all the while I untangle my hand from his hair and travel down his chest. Reaching the hem of his shirt, I snake my hand beneath it.

His stomach caves upon contact, muscle rippling at the intrusion of my cold fingers running over its warmth. Slithering up they eventually find his chest and I hold back nothing as I grab a handful of his pec and squeeze.

He airly chuckles at this, going as far as to press his chest further up against my palm. So I take it even further by releasing my grip only to then trap his already hardening nipple between my fingers and pinch.

This earns a great inhaled gasp from him followed by another pained lip bite in a delicious, cherry red expression of pleasure.

Hair falls all in my face as I tilt my head down over his, admiring the stained beauty below me.

"You look good like this, you know."

The beating of my thundering heart causes the blood adorning my lips to drip, drip, drip. I'm no stranger to the gawking of Julian's eyes tracking the droplets that now stain his white shirt like blood on fresh snow. Those grey's half-lidded, drinking me up like a H2O deprived mammal in a hot savanna desert.

Simpering, my head tips to the side, the optics of my own languorous as can be.

"The view from down here isn't so bad either."

He quips softly, his eyebrows twitching at another roll of my hips.

My fingers continues their assault on his nipple. I've made sure to push his shirt well enough out of the way— exposing not only his entire pec but also his collarbone— so I have easier access to the stimulated source.

Yet again he sucks in through his teeth, squirming all about beneath me.

"mhmmnn..sshitt."

For the moment I decide to just sit here and perpetually grind against him. I imagine once more how our position looks, envisioning the hypnotic roll of my hips from a side view. But most importantly of all, how Julian looks. Any angle I conjure up and from the one I currently have clear access to is the same display; a beautifully tousled, bloodied man enjoying the hell out of something taboo. And I know that's exactly what hes seeing too.

I'm tempted to stay like this, to press on with simply grinding and grinding until he reaches his breaking point. Picturing his face contorting at the pique of his climax forces my roll to stutter. However, I'm impatiently reminded of the reason we even got here in the first place when my belly rumbles. I blink down at it in surprise.

In all honesty I thought I might've finally been fulfilled. Nevertheless, it appears even when I've consumed a cup of blood, my thirst has yet to be entirely quenched.

This revelation brings forth some aggravation, but in the end, I've learned dismissing it brings more harm than good.

So, I return to the depths of his neck, but this time I delve into the opposite side than before. There I brush red strands away and lick up his jugular, inhaling deeply, savoring the punctuating scent of his ichor and trembling body.

Julian clearly can't stand it when my hips slow down by a mere minuscule (the movement makes feeding from him a smidge more difficult) so he grabs a relatively tight hold of my hips and attempts to rock them faster.

"Please—"

He's cut off by his own groan.

"Please keep going like that M/N, don't slow down. You can't be tired already right?"

He’s practically begging, this pathetic man.

I'm quick to rid him of that grin by crashing my fangs back down into his neck, chomping with nearly all my strength. My jaw muscles and instincts itch to indulge in my bites full force, but of course I'd rather not crush his flesh.

You can write in headcanon or fic style, whatever you like best and have more fun doing :) thank you so much for writing! :D

Ooooh, I loved writing this one! Mixing the Harry Potter universe with vampires is definitely one of my favorite things, and with that, came a long result 🙃 hope you like it ~ ♡

A Thousand Years to Love You *⁠.⁠✧

Summary: The world had never been kind to creatures like you. For centuries, you wandered, unseen and unwanted, your existence tolerated but never embraced. But times had changed—just not for the better. New laws forced magical creatures into the margins, stripping them of their rights, and you found yourself with little choice but to accept Dumbledore’s offer of refuge within Hogwarts as a professor. There, among the candlelit corridors and whispered rumors, you met him. Severus Snape.

severus snape x f!vampire reader

Hogwarts was as you remembered it. Cold stone walls, winding corridors, magic humming in the very air. You had passed through its halls before, but never like this—never as an official part of it.

The Great Hall was alive with chatter as Dumbledore introduced you, his voice calm but commanding. The students murmured among themselves, eyes flickering toward you in fascination and fear.

"A vampire?" you heard someone whisper. "Teaching?"

"Does she drink human blood?" another asked.

You resisted the urge to smirk. Let them wonder. Let them be afraid. Fear kept people at a distance, and distance made things easier.

But there was one pair of eyes that didn’t hold fear.

Severus Snape.

He sat at the far end of the faculty table, dressed in his usual black, eyes like polished obsidian. His expression was unreadable, his gaze sharp as it met yours.

Interesting.

You held his gaze longer than necessary, letting your lips curve ever so slightly. A silent challenge.

He didn’t look away.

Even more interesting.

You found him alone in the staff room later that evening, hunched over a steaming cup of tea, his fingers wrapped around the porcelain like he was absorbing the warmth.

He didn’t acknowledge you when you entered, not even when you deliberately moved closer, the air around you chilling slightly.

“You don’t frighten me,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You smiled. “Good. That would be rather inconvenient.”

His dark eyes flicked toward you. “I assume Dumbledore thought it wise to bring a vampire into the castle?”

You shrugged. “Dumbledore thinks a great many things are wise.”

He scoffed. “And yet, he rarely is.”

You chuckled. “I think I like you, Professor Snape.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I assure you, the feeling is not mutual.”

You leaned against the chair opposite him, resting your chin on your hand. “Oh, but it will be.”

His scowl deepened.

You found it delightful.

Snape was a difficult man.

He avoided you when he could, answered in clipped sentences when he couldn’t, and yet—he was always watching.

In the dungeons, when your robes brushed against his as you passed too close.

In the Great Hall, where he seemed perpetually irritated that you found yourself beside him.

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered one evening as you slid into the seat next to him.

You merely smirked. “And yet, you never move.”

He glared but said nothing.

A victory.

The first crack appeared late one night in the library.

You found him hunched over a tome, a candle flickering beside him, the scent of ink and parchment thick in the air.

Without a word, you sat across from him, resting your chin on your palm.

He sighed. “Must you always linger?”

“I enjoy your company.”

He scoffed. “You enjoy tormenting me.”

“Can it not be both?”

For the first time, his lips twitched—almost a smile.

Oh, interesting indeed.

It happened after a particularly grueling staff meeting, one where the Ministry’s new restrictions on magical creatures had been discussed.

You left the meeting tense, jaw set, hands curled into fists beneath your robes. You hated feeling powerless. Hated remembering that no matter how long you had lived, to the Ministry, you were still nothing more than other.

Snape found you later, standing alone in the courtyard, staring up at the night sky.

“You look as if you might tear someone’s throat out,” he mused.

You exhaled sharply. “Not tonight.”

A pause. Then, softer—hesitant. “They’re fools.”

You turned to face him.

He was watching you, expression unreadable but eyes… softer.

“They fear what they do not understand,” he continued.

You let out a humorless laugh. “I have had a thousand years to hear that excuse.”

Silence stretched between you.

And then, after a long moment, he said, “I do not fear you.”

Your chest tightened.

“That,” you murmured, stepping closer, “is why I like you.”

He held his ground, his breath barely hitching as you reached out, your fingers ghosting over the sleeve of his robes.

And for the first time—he didn’t pull away.

It was slow. Subtle.

A lingering glance here. A hesitation there. The way his fingers brushed against yours when you passed him a potion vial.

Snape was not a man who allowed himself to want things.

But you? You had lived too long to deny yourself anything.

And so you pursued him, patiently, relentlessly.

Until, one night, as you stood in his quarters, the fire casting flickering shadows against the stone walls, he finally broke.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he ground out, his voice rough, his hands clenched at his sides.

You stepped closer, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “I think you do.”

His breath was unsteady. “You shouldn’t.”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

He exhaled sharply. “Because I am not a good man.”

You smiled then, slow and knowing. “Severus,” you whispered, leaning in until your lips almost brushed his, “I have lived for a thousand years. Do you really think I would waste my time on someone unworthy?”

He swallowed hard.

And then—finally, finally—he closed the distance.

The kiss was rough, desperate, full of everything unsaid.

And as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, you knew.

You had won.

Snape pulled away first.

You could feel his breath, warm against your lips, his hands still tangled in your robes as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold on or push you away.

His expression was unreadable, but you could see it—the conflict, the hesitation, the desperate urge to retreat.

So, naturally, you didn’t let him.

You traced a single finger down his arm, watching the way he tensed beneath your touch. “That wasn’t so terrible, was it?”

He exhaled sharply. “This is a mistake.”

You smirked. “Then why do you look like you want to do it again?”

Snape stiffened, his hands finally dropping away from you. He took a step back, putting space between you as if that would somehow erase what had just happened.

“This—” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “—cannot happen.”

You arched a brow. “And yet, it already has.”

His jaw clenched. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly,” you interrupted, folding your arms. “You want me. You think you shouldn’t. You’re terrified of the idea that someone like me would waste my time on you.” You took a deliberate step forward. “But I am wasting my time on you, Severus. And you want to know why?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn’t answer.

You leaned in, your voice a whisper against his ear. “Because you are worth it.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. He looked at you then—really looked at you—and you could see it. The war raging inside him. The part of him that wanted to believe you.

But Snape had never allowed himself to believe in good things.

Which was why he turned on his heel and left without another word.

You sighed, watching him disappear down the corridor.

This is going to be fun.

Severus Snape was not an easy man to pursue.

He avoided you in the hallways. He stopped sitting next to you during meals. He barely acknowledged you in staff meetings.

You had expected this.

But you were old. Patient. Unrelenting.

So you found ways to corner him.

You lingered outside his classroom when his students had all left, standing in the doorway with a knowing smirk.

"You can't avoid me forever, you know."

"I can certainly try," he muttered, gathering his lesson plans.

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. "You're acting like a child."

He looked up then, eyes flashing. "And you're acting like this is some sort of game."

You shrugged. "Maybe it is. But I play to win."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don’t know what you expect from me."

“I expect nothing,” you admitted. “Except, perhaps, for you to stop lying to yourself.”

He didn’t have a response to that.

And you? You were perfectly content to wait.

It happened in the dead of night.

You found him in the astronomy tower, standing alone, looking out over the darkened grounds. He didn’t turn when you approached.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, your voice softer than usual.

“I rarely do.”

You stepped beside him, gazing at the same moonlit landscape. “You should. You’ll wrinkle prematurely.”

A scoff. “I’m hardly concerned with vanity.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “No. But you are concerned with pushing away things that might actually make you happy.”

His fingers curled over the stone railing. “Happiness is fleeting.”

“So is life,” you murmured. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t live it.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it—

“I don’t know how to do this.”

You turned to face him fully, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice.

“Then let me show you.”

And this time, when you reached for him—he didn’t pull away.

Things changed after that night.

Snape was still Snape—grumpy, sarcastic, prone to brooding—but he no longer tried to pretend there was nothing between you.

He let you sit beside him at meals again.

He let you brush your fingers against his when you passed him things.

He let you press lingering kisses against his lips when no one was looking.

And, occasionally, when he thought you were asleep, he let himself watch you.

Like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

Like he still couldn’t believe you had chosen him.

And you?

You had lived a thousand years.

prologue

Pair: Marko/John polidori x vampire!reader Ik nobody asked of this but please give it a try🙏

Summery: John Polidori had been hired by Lord Byron to travel with him. Through their travels, they developed a toxic "friendship." Polidoris's mistreatment had made you grow angry at the Lord and feel protective of Polidori. (I suck at summaries but thats basically what happens)

A/N:For some background, Alex Winter plays both John Polidori and Marko, so this is an au where John Polidori is Marko before he turned. To fully understand what's going on, look here. I tried my best to keep it gn and I'm sorry if there are any slip ups. :3

Prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

April 1816

Scandal had plagued Lord Byron's reputation, landing him in social exile. In an attempt to escape social ruin, he embarked on a journey across Europe. He had hired the young Dr. John Polidori as his personal physician to join him on his travels.

_________________

John Polidori had recently been hired by the very well known Lord Byron. Byron had chosen Polidori based on a recommendation from Sir Henry Halford, who is the royal physician for King George the third. This fact added to his ego as well as his nerves.

Such nerves had made it hard to sleep, so like any sleepless night, he went out for a stroll. It's not like the city ever truly rested, but anything was better than being cooped up in his room with nothing but his thoughts.

Most nights you walked aimlessly around the city, meticulously planning where and whom you could sink your teeth into. Years of being a vampire have taught you the best way to hunt. The cleaner the kill, the longer you could stay in one city. You did allow yourself to splurge on Kills once you planned to leave.

Through your walks you stopped to socialize in order to keep up appearances of a sweet and kind-hearted person. It was annoying to play pretend with what you saw as food. Food that was too wrapped up in their own problems to realize they were being picked off one by one.

Once you found yourself in a more deserted part of town, you waited for whatever poor drunken soul came stumbling by. The wait was rather short, as soon as he stumbled by, you began to trail behind him, surveying the area before going in for the kill. Usually you would never bother with lost drunkards for more than 2 weeks of being in a new town. But you had grown quite attached to the area, well, not the area itself but a person who lived here.

Dr. John Marko Polidori