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sailxrmxrs · 1 year

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hi hello this is my formal application to join the vampire diluc enjoyers club. i love vampires and i love diluc. putting the two together is just recipe for a breakdown of the greatest proportions (in a good way). so enjoy the result of my brain exploding over my keyboard and manifesting the exact brand of hurt/comfort, mildly angsty diluc that i need in these desperate times. also secret pining and slowly building tension that is so palpable you can feel it deep in every corner of your brain. bc it's tasty. anyway enjoy the vampire diluc goodness bc wowie i need to take a minute after this. cw for blood and injury and the usual vampire behaviours!

When adventuring in unfamiliar territory, one must always pay close mind to their surroundings and take note of any nearby points of interest. A small town, a lone cottage, anything that signified safety and civilisation. If you became too complacent, there was no telling who or what you might stumble upon along your travels, or the danger they might possess. Such a reality came to fruition during your ventures through the lands of Mondstadt. You, a lone adventurer out in the world with little but the clothes on your back and some quickly dwindling supplies. The experience had been mostly peaceful, your lack of companionship offering a quietness that kept you safe from imminent harm. That was, however, until you happened across a band of Treasure Hoarders making your way toward Springvale. Trying to fend them off had proved difficult considering you were wildly outnumbered. Treasure Hoarders weren't known for their amicable dispositions nor their willingness to leave a lone stranger who happened upon their camp unscathed. One glance at the stack of treasures they'd undoubtedly stolen and your fate was sealed—they hadn't killed you at least, but remaining alive meant little when your body was so battered and broken in their wake. They'd left plenty of deep cuts and scratches along with an array of purplish bruises where their fists had struck true. The worst of all your injuries, however, was the small throwing knife lodged in the side of your knee and the sprained ankle that swiftly followed when you collided with the ground. They'd left you alone after that, tossing your aching body back onto the dirt road before laughing amongst themselves and returning to the warm air of their campfire. Laughter had never sparked such a furious rage in your chest than in that very moment. But what could you do? There was no one else around to come to your aid, nor could you fight them off in your condition. To attempt such an endeavour would only guarantee your death. And so all that you could do was muster up enough strength to rise to your feet and find shelter of some kind. Anything was better than laying in the road and risking the Treasure Hoarders return for a second round.

Walking blindly along, gait unsteady and slow, the sprain in your ankle soon began to feel more like a fracture. The uneven ground along with the tiredness that seeped in your bones made you feel weak beyond belief. To think just one chance encounter would upend your travels so drastically was beyond prediction. And yet, here you were, making your way through the wilds in search of any sign of help. That was when you emerged from a forested clearing and caught sight of a mansion of sorts sitting in the sprawling hills of its surrounding landscape. There was no sign of it being occupied yet it had not fallen into a state of disrepair. Someone must tend to the area else it wouldn't look so invitingly pristine. But even as you neared the stone steps leading up onto the mansion's grounds, there were no maids nor groundskeepers in sight. All that stood was a towering building of unbelievable proportions compared to the homely cottages and makeshift campsites you'd come across since first reaching Mondstadt. Judging by the rows of grapes that lined the mansion's perimeter, the master of the house, whoever that may be, ran some sort of establishment that dealt with wines. That, or he just rather quite liked grapes. Either way, whoever resided here was your only chance at securing a safe place to rest your head until you could make a full recovery. Or, at least, recover enough to head out for Springvale and onto the City of Freedom itself.

When you reached the heavy wooden doors, it took almost all of your remaining energy to knock hard enough to be heard from inside the mansion. Agonising seconds passed, each moment that you remained alone weighing heavier and heavier on your shoulders. Was there even anyone in there to hear the desperate call for help in your weakened knock? Would they even care to aid a lone adventurer who had trespassed onto their land? Question and doubt plagued you as you stood staring at the stillness of the doors, what small semblance of hope they had granted now beginning to rapidly fade away. Just as that flickering flame was about to extinguish itself, a loud creaking sounded as the doors opened a crack. Anticipation rose at the thought as the mansion's occupant made themself known. Standing before you was a man with hair that could only be described as flame red. His hair tumbled over his shoulders in curled waves that shone even bright in the moonlight. He wore a white linen blouse, framed by a long, dark jacket that lay slightly crooked on his body—perhaps the only sign of dishevelment upon his entire being. The top button of his blouse was undone, revealing a small triangle of his pale complexion. His skin was so clear it seemed almost iridescent under the moon's opaline light. Something about him was hauntingly beautiful, down to the dark amber of his eyes and the almost scowl that failed to mar his grievous beauty. In your distraction, you barely noticed how his eyes trailed every inch of you searching for something in your clothes that might identify who had approached his home. Even after registering his intrigue, it took a moment to come to your senses, realising this mysterious man was waiting for you to offer some explanation as to your arrival.

"I apologise for disturbing you so late, sir. I ran into some trouble with a band of Treasure Hoarders and don't have the strength to get myself to safety. If it isn't too much trouble, might I rest here for the night?"

He remained silent as he examined your condition, gaze settling on the throwing knife that remained lodged in your skin. Safer to keep it there than risk bleeding out. Something in his stance shifted, his nose crinkling for a fraction of a second before he opened the door further and gestured for you to enter. What lay before your eyes only heightened your curiosity. Despite the grounds being empty, you had expected to see at least a few members of staff walking about the place, dusting off bookshelves or fetching the master a late night beverage. But there was nothing of the sort in sight. Instead, you were greeted with an open room decorated with the finest opulence—evidence of your host's wealth. This man you had happened upon and his home were most unusual, and yet you couldn't stave off the intrigue that tingled each of your senses, whispering in your ear how you mustn't run. It was so invitingly warm compared to the howling winds; a beaconing safe haven you couldn't possibly walk away from even if your injuries weren't preventing you from doing so.

Your host directed you toward a pair of cushioned sofas, having closed the heavy doors with ease. For a man so draped in elegance, he was certainly stronger than he seemed. Even the way he walked was captivating, as though each and every step was perfectly calculated and orchestrated so that he always presented an image of divine excellence. So much of him seemed to embody a sense of refinement that could capture and control a room with a mere glance. This was not some ordinary businessman residing in these walls.

"Here. Take a seat while I see what supplies I have." He was certainly a man of few words, though you couldn't fathom why when his voice sounded so velvet smooth. There was something otherworldly in the way he spoke, as though he did not truly belong here. Was this perhaps just an affectation of the countrymen in Mondstadt? There was no use dwelling on who your host might be, names and history of the nation all too unknown to mean little more than idle chatter to you. Still, there was always the chance he might indulge the questions swarming your mind. When he returned, apologising for the wait, he kneeled down to tend to the worst of your injuries. Namely the wound from the throwing knife that throbbed with each minute movement of your leg. He was careful not to aggravate the spot too much, carefully removing it and tossing the blade aside once it was finally free. A large, yet cool, hand pressed gauze against the now open wound. The pressure was uncomfortable, but a necessary price to pay for the reward of recovery.

"You're lucky you came here. Not everyone would know or possess the materials to close this wound of yours." His eyes met yours, candlelight reflecting in the deep colour of his irises. Before they had looked almost brown but the soft golden glow illuminating this corner of the room was enough to show their true colour—whorls of gold embedded among amber. He soon averted his gaze to focus on your injuries, leaving you mildly dazed from how you reeled at the short moments of eye contact. It felt like it lasted far longer than it had.

"Then it's a good job I found your home, isn't it?" You offered a smile, hoping that even a fraction of your gratitude came across in the gesture. A whispering echo of his own smile twitched in his lips as he remained focused on your leg. The pain had dulled somewhat, though the discomfort still remained, but it was nothing you couldn't endure. You let your eyes wander, surveying the room around you while your host stitched the wound back together. It was then that you began to notice the signs of his solitude; stacks of books were piled on the floors, a thin veneer of dust covering the leatherbound volumes. They looked old even ignoring their dusty state and how the pages had yellowed with age. In fact everything around you seemed a little too old fashioned to be considered coincidence. Perhaps he had inherited the mansion from family and simply hadn't bothered to redecorate? There was no telling just what secrets might lie in the cracks and crevices of this aged mansion or the man inhabiting it. Still, it wasn't as if you planned to stay for too much longer so no doubt all those mysteries would remain buried in the walls for as long as he willed them to.

By the time he had finished stitching your wound and tending to your ankle which, as luck would have it, had indeed worsened to a fracture, you could feel sleep tugging at every extremity in your body. The pain was not a distant echo though you still felt rather fragile as you lay back on the cushions. Your host and healer had not long left to discard the now-used materials. He had remained quiet for the most part, only offering small warnings to prepare for a spike of pain. Everything about him, his name included, was shrouded in mystery and there was nothing you longed for more than to pull back the curtain concealing so much of himself from your gaze. When he returned, you barely registered his voice in your ears as sleep crept closer and closer.

"Luckily for you I have a spare room in suitable condition for a guest. Your ankle will need some time to heal so I'm afraid you might need to stay here longer than you intended." You mumbled out a mostly incoherent reply, falling unconscious shortly after a pair of strong arms lifted you from the sofa and carried you away while sleep took its hold.

The following day sunlight poured over your skin, gently waking you in an unfamiliar room. You were laying in a large bed wearing clothes you didn't recognise. The room was not overly decorated, though it wasn't too minimalist either; a bookshelf piled high sat along the back wall and there was a set of drawers beneath the open window and a flowerpot nestled in the middle, its leaves gently moving in the breeze. The air was fresh and invigorating, slowly pulling you out of the hazy drowsiness of your slumber. Memories of the previous night were a slight bit too far out of your grasp, as though a film of fog was clouding the snapshot pictures of all you saw. It was only as you slowly found consciousness and energy creeping back, along with the persisting aches, that everything settled in your mind. You'd been badly injured, stumbled upon an almost uninhabited manor and found yourself in the care of an unknown lord. It almost sounded too fantastical to be real but the sudden knock at the door and immediate entrance of your host proved this was not some elaborate dream you'd manifested while asleep.

"Ah, you're awake. How do you feel?" He carried a tray in hand, laden with food and some water.

"Sore. But good. What time is it?" One bite was enough to make you realise just how much you needed this meal.

"Early afternoon. You're a heavy sleeper." His lips upturned in a small smile as he perched at the foot of the bed. Today he looked more prepared for guests than the previous night. The deep maroon of his corset only accentuated the brightness of his hair and he seemed a fraction more composed than when he'd first laid eyes on you. A moment passed when the state of your undress registered in your mind, warming your cheeks as you tried to sit up despite the persistent twinge of pain striking your leg.

"Ah, ah. None of that. I'm prescribing you a few days of bedrest. Your ankle is in rather poor condition and I'd rather not have you become a permanent resident in my home for it."

Worry that you might be imposing began to rise. The last thing you wanted was to be bothersome or interrupt any plans he might have had.

He held out a hand, as if sensing your inner turmoil. "Your face is an open book. Relax. I'd rather see you fully healed than send you away into danger. I live alone here so the company might be rather pleasant for a time. Still, I do not wish to rob you of your independence so I intend to arrange for a walking aid so that you can venture the manor at your leisure. Until then I ask that you remain in here."

You nodded, accepting that the both of you had little choice in the matter. After all, you did come to Mondstadt with the intention of seeking adventure and new sights. This was just another chapter, one that was entirely unplanned and unexpected, but an adventure all the same. Over the following week you found yourself growing closer to the man who'd aided you. Diluc, you'd learnt was his name, was a private man, only offering small titbits of himself whenever you asked. He was most amicable in the evenings, frequently joining you upon your request to read under the waning remnants of sunlight. It was then you'd learnt about his lucrative wine business, something he'd inherited from family though he had divulged no more than that. Where his family was now you could only assume from the pained crease in his brow that the story was not one that possessed a happy ending. Much of Diluc's existence seemed to suggest his was a life of difficulty despite the lavish furnishings of his home. Even a wealthy estate felt barren if you were the only one to occupy it.

In spite of how fond you had grown of Diluc, much of him was still shrouded in mystery. Even his day-to-day routine sparkled ounces of curiosity within you—specifically because you were privy to so little of it. Even after acquiring a walking aid and gaining access to the manor in its entirety, you still felt as though you barely knew the man hosting you. He'd served your meals while bedridden but had encouraged you to help yourself to all the supplies in his pantry and inform him of anything else you might need. Yet you had never seen him eat. If ever you commented, he would reassure you not to worry and would swiftly change the subject; if he wasn't an expert at diverting conversation before, he certainly was now. And it wasn't just around eating, Diluc would also dismiss any and all inquiries about his sleeping schedule. Whenever you rose in the morning, Diluc would be about the mansion having already started his day. And come evening time when you were fighting to stave off sleepy yawns. Diluc seemed to possess just as much energy as he did in the mornings. Perhaps he fuelled himself on an abundance of coffee, but you had yet to see him take even a sip of the stuff. There was also the fact you could have sworn you heard him leaving the manor late at night. Maybe it was just the sound of the wind, but it sounded a little too loud even for the sweeping winds of Mondstadt. Diluc's evasive nature and his perplexing schedule certainly explained the ghostly paleness of his complexion but a small voice in the back of your mind whispered that there was something else. Something that he was so deftly hiding from you that was just out of reach. Perhaps if you reached a little further, you could grasp the truth in your hands.

Such a moment came in the dead of night, the sky an abyssal pool of oblivion black with its smattering of stars. Even blanketed in darkness, you could just about make out the peak of Dragonspine looming in the heights of the horizon. It was truly a sight to behold under night's comforting silence. Still, as beautiful as the night's scenery was, you longed to be tucked away in bed and dreaming of far off places. But in spite of the tiredness clinging to your person, such respite still would not come. It was as though there was some pervasive force impeding your conscious thoughts, luring you toward the answer to a question you didn't realise you'd asked. Restlessness had you fumbling your way in the dark through the house, now much more accustomed to your walking aids as your ankle slowly healed. Silence consumed the manor, even more so than usual. The unsettling feeling accompanying the darkness soon ebbed at the faint glow from behind a closed door. Diluc was still awake. Not bothering to knock, you gently pushed the door into the kitchen open. Diluc was leaning against the counter, blood staining his clothes. Fear sank deep under your skin, propelling you close to him in an urgent need to ensure he was okay. Your walking aids were abandoned, your weight causing a dull throb in your ankle but that was of little importance. His coat had been tossed beside him, blood staining the beige material though it paled in comparison to the starkness of the deep crimson against the crisp white of his linen shirt.

"What happened. Are you okay?" Your words were frantic, worry and concern taking over ever rational thought in your body. Your shaking hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, only able to unfasten two before Diluc's hand covered them. The porcelain of his chest revealed no sign of injury. But the blood must have come from somewhere. He placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle and any trace of his initial alarm fading away into acceptance for the situation he now found himself in.

"I'm fine. The blood isn't mine. You should be more concerned for that ankle. I am not worth risking yourself over." He stepped out of your grasp to retrieve what you had forgotten, only speaking again once you had taken the weight off your injury. Looking into his eyes, you thought there was something like regret there, as though he'd made some grievous mistake that had finally caught up on him.

"What do you mean it isn't yours? Whose is it? Where have you even been this late at night. Diluc, I—I don't understand what's going on here."

He was quiet, hesitance clinging to the crease in his brow as he weighed his options. "That is not your concern. My business is my own."

"Not my concern? I have put my trust in you. Stayed in your home when I had no other choice. I have put my life in your hands and suddenly your whereabouts are not my concern? Surely you are not so brazen as to think I would accept that?"

"It isn't so simple—"

"No, Diluc. No. I'm not accepting that. I've overlooked a lot of strangeness going on here and I think I'm due some kind of explanation. You barely seem to sleep, you never eat around me, you seem to be awake at all hours. Then you leave in the middle of the night and come home covered in blood that you claim isn't your own. What are you, some sort of vampire?" You had intended your final comment as an incredulous joke to demonstrate the absurdity of all that seemed to be going on at Dawn Winery. Yet, Diluc's expression turned dark as if some deplorable secret had been unearthed and laid bare in the candlelit glow of the kitchen.

"Diluc. Now is not the time for morbid jokes."

"I have never been more serious." His face certainly seemed to reflect his words.

A mangled concoction of confusion and fear bubbled its way up to your throat, stealing any and all words that might have tried to leave. Surely not. Surely this was all some elaborate joke Diluc was pulling and he was about to laugh it off and assure you that all this talk of vampires was nonsensical. But he didn't. He remained quiet and stoic, waiting for you to make the next move.

"But...No...What?" The world felt as though it was shifting around you as every moment of your time with Diluc replayed in your mind's eye. Diluc's apparent confession to being a vampire certainly explained a lot of things, but how could it be true? Vampires were in books and children's tales, not real life. Yet, it was also the only plausible and logical explanation for Diluc's bizarre living situation.

"I need a moment. A few moments, actually. Sorry. This is a lot of take in."

Diluc laid a reassuring hand on your wrist. "Please, take some rest. But know that I do not wish your harm, nor do I wish to take advantage of this situation. You may not believe this right now, but you can trust me."

You offered a meek nod, taking your leave of the kitchen to return to your own room and let sleep carry you away. You wanted to believe his words. A small part of you did. But a larger part was overwhelmed by it all. Vampires truly existed? Was this why Diluc lived alone in the manor? To hide his secret and keep innocent bystanders from harm? But then, how did he sustain himself? In all the stories, vampires did not eat as humans did. A shudder shot through you at the thought before your eyelids grew heavy and sleep finally washed over you.

Over the coming days, Diluc kept his distance. It was evident he was waiting for you to initiate conversation, letting you come to terms with the revelation of his vampiric status. It somehow felt as though it were both real and a fabrication of Diluc's invention. Still, even if it didn't feel entirely real, you missed Diluc's companionship. In the time you'd spent living with him, you'd grown fond of the man and that fact had not changed. So you tentatively took those extra steps to return to normality. You would take a seat beside him, bringing up some story of your time growing up to which Diluc would respond with a story of his own. Somehow it was as if a barrier had come down. The restraint and caution of secrecy that once shackled Diluc was no longer present, so now he could indulge in stories of his childhood, his former self. He was far from an open book, of course, but there was something softer about the way he spoke. As if he finally felt comfortable. As if he no longer had to hide who he was. He would answer your questions, entertaining the fantastical stereotypes with teasing remarks. It wasn't long before things felt normal again, or rather, felt better than normal. He no longer felt out of reach, but rather like someone you could bond with on a much deeper level. It was nice. There was still much about Diluc that remained a total mystery, but more so than ever you hoped to crack what remained of his exterior. Even if it took weeks, months, however long Diluc needed to shed what remained of his apprehensions. Thoughts of what might happen once your ankle fully healed were a muted whisper in the back of your mind, so miniscule you'd barely even considered that future. Living in the present was so much more exciting, after all.

One evening you and Diluc were sat together before the crackling warmth of the fireplace. The sun had long since set and the only light in the room was that of the fire and the candles dotted about the room. A gentle cosiness wrapped like a blanket around you, leaving you content and satisfied. Diluc was reading from a book he'd bought while out earlier that day. He'd been doing some business related to the Winery, though had spared you of the boring details that came with manufacturing and distributing wines. Diluc had told you of the tavern his family used to run and the commerce that made it flourish but upon his becoming a vampire he lost almost all interest in keeping the business running. He'd sold the place off to the highest bidder and become somewhat of a recluse in the manor, only keeping the supply of wine going so as not to rouse attention from the city folk. It was a quiet existence he'd sought out and a quiet existence he'd received in return.

"Can I ask a question?"

Diluc didn't lift an eye from his page as he answered, "You just did."

Huffing a sigh, you moved to lower his book and force his attention on you. "Your jokes are as dull as your taste in literature. But I'm going to take that as a yes. How averse are you to answering questions about how vampires, um, feed?"

"Don't tell me you're getting ideas." Diluc's voice rang with amusement, but he placed the book down to give you his full attention. "I'm afraid I can't answer as in-depth as you might like. I've never met another vampire. The one who created me barely stuck around long enough to witness my full transformation let alone answer any questions I might have had."

"Then, how does it work? Do you use human vessels or...?"

"Vessels? You make it sound as though I have some poor human sequestered to my basement for regular mealtimes."

"I don't know how it works, maybe you do. Who knows what you get up to in the dead of night."

Diluc's laugh was melodic, his head tipping back into the cushion of the sofa, his hair spilling like wildfire. "No human vessels. I actually make a point not to drink human blood. Not unless absolutely necessary." Diluc paused for a moment, sensing your earnest desire to pry further. He sighed, preparing himself to lay bare parts of himself he'd kept locked away from all eyes—except yours. "Not long after I was turned, I learned that drinking the blood of animals was enough to keep the agony of hunger at bay. It does not satiate like human blood does, but it is enough to sustain oneself for a good long while. I enjoy it that way."

"Have you ever drank from a human before?"

"Yes. Only a few times. The first, I would rather not discuss. It was a moment of blinded thirst that consumed every rational thought and bone in my body. I had no control and did things I wish to forget. Since then I have restrained as much as my body will allow." His eyes seemed to grow colder at the mention of his first taste of human blood, a distant echo of pain misting over the amber hue and turning them mute. He did not explain further, nor did he need to. There was a reason he had no family, and you could sense from the roiling anguish that it was not unconnected.

"Since then it has only been once or twice when I couldn't bare the pain any longer."

You edged a little closer, reaching a hand to cover his so that he knew you weren't afraid. The last thing you wanted was for him to back away from such a vulnerable state of being and recede into the iron shell he'd once donned. "Would you ever consider it? If someone were to offer?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure that I could. It has always been this necessary evil so to indulge in a way that suggested a choice feels far too close. Too intimate." The way he whispered sent goosebumps shivering over your skin. The air was thick with a tension so palpable you swore you could see it. Could touch it. "I don't wish to forget that part of myself. It serves as a reminder of who I am—what I am. Dangerous. I am no longer human and I must live with that for the rest of eternity."

"Perhaps. But that does not mean you have committed some egregious sin for which you must atone. This was not your choice. You had this life thrust upon you with no warning nor guidance, Diluc. There is need to punish yourself for that."

His laugh was cold, lacking any respect or sympathy for himself. "You only think that way because you believe I am still human in some way. You claim I have committed no sin but you have not seen all that I have done."

"You're right, I haven't. But all of that history, both good and bad, only makes me more certain." You reached to turn Diluc's face toward you. He seemed withdrawn, full to the brim with self-hatred and contempt. An anger burned within him, but it was all directed inward; none of it was for you. "To become a vampire does not erase the human life you led. Nor does it eradicate the humanity that guides your every choice. If you were so soulless you wouldn't have taken me in and helped me. You would have carried me over your doorstep and stolen what life I had left. But you didn't."

"Saving one human is hardly atonement," Diluc scoffed, eyes raging at he stared at nothing. There was a pain so deep and dark it cleaved your heart in two. Partially for the turmoil that plagued Diluc's every step but also for the inability to soothe even a small fraction of that everlasting despair. There were years of tumultuous agony raging behind Diluc's eyes, a pain that you couldn't touch nor take away no matter how much you wished to. Words of comfort felt far too insignificant, yet what else could you offer? This was hardly your field of expertise. Though that did not stop your wandering hands from taking his in their hold, a physical reminder that you were there and you were not afraid. No matter how Diluc lamented for his lacking humanity, you had no intention to leave his side. Your touch managed to pull Diluc away from his spiralling thoughts, his eyes fixed on yours, all anguish and pain. Though there was a rising warmth the moment your eyes met his, as if he could hear all the words you hadn't said. Could sense exactly how much you wished to help him, comfort him, in the same way he had helped you. Perhaps it was all futile. Perhaps it meant little in the grand scheme of things. But that was a distant thought, utterly meaningless as you sat in silence with Diluc's gaze searing your skin. In all the time you'd been staying at Dawn Winery, you'd grown close with him but this felt different. A sparking energy flowed through each of you, an electric current passing through the point where your hands met. It was almost a little too much.

As if reading those thoughts, or perhaps hearing your heartbeat quicken, Diluc cleared his throat and broke off that eye contact, removing his hands from yours in the process. It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over you, reality finally coming into focus again leaving only the tingling remnants that were the memories of his hands touching yours. He mentioned something about it getting late—empty words to excuse himself. You could only half hear him bidding you a good night as he left for his room. Your heart pounded in your ears as you sat in contemplation. You had learned much of Diluc's past tonight, had peered into the vast depths of his inner thoughts. There was so much left unspoken yet it was enough to piece together what had happened to him and what he had done to culminate in the tragedy that seemed to shadow him. There was also something else that had shifted that night. The scorching feel of his eyes on yours and the electricity that his touch brought. It brought about feelings you couldn't quite fathom nor fully comprehend, but they also brought with them a sense of excitement—a sense of anticipation for what the future might bring.

The following evening you were leaving your room to fetch a pot of tea to accompany you as you prepared to settle down for the night. Even with your injury healing as well as it was, you still required the walking aids to keep the weight from erasing all your progress. You'd grown rather deft with them, able to walk at a decent pace about the manor. But in spite of your adept control over them, fate had something else in mind as you walked down the stairs and caught the carpet, sending you off balance and about to fall down the remaining few steps. You braced for the impact of the hard wood floors but it never came. Instead, a warm pair of arms wrapped around your frame, holding you up and against Diluc's sturdy body. His eyes flashed with alarm, sudden worry for your wellbeing spurring his actions and keeping you held tightly against him. Words evaded you, unable to tear your eyes away from Diluc's face. It seemed he was just as entranced with the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips. No words were uttered and yet his thoughts were as clear as the morning sky. Suddenly his lips crashed to yours, his last piece of self-restraint falling away as he pulled you even closer. Your walking aids fell to the ground, rendered completely useless as Diluc held you in his arms. His lips were warm, soft, and utterly irresistible. All the scary stories about a vampire's thrall were true. Perhaps not in the way they were intended to be, but there was no denying the spell Diluc had you under. Not that he was entirely ready to admit it, but Diluc was just as bewitched by you. Your presence, your touch. All of it was enchanting to him. He believed himself entirely undeserving of it, but he was also selfish. Giving up such a divine act was unthinkable.

Then your lips parted, breaths heavy and heated as your eyes met again. It had been easy to miss the building tension that had grown over your time with Diluc, but now that it had come crumbling down the absence felt stark. Suddenly everything didn't feel quite so muted, as though you were seeing in colour for the first time. Despite the clarity of the world around you, your thoughts felt clouded and hazy, distracted by the way Diluc's lips had melded so perfectly over yours. Something like fear rose in his eyes, scared he may have overstepped a line or acted out of turn. He was soon soothed by the hand that brushed his cheek, guiding him back to your lips in a fleeting kiss. It was all the sign he needed to kiss you again, deeper this time, exploring all that you offered to him. Then his hands were sweeping you up into his hold, carrying you back up the stairs you'd just walked down. But he did not make to return you to your room and instead carried you into his own bedroom. Your heart raced with each step that Diluc took, never having been inside before, but his smile was warm and comforting, erasing any nerves that threatened to pull you out of this infinitely seraphic moment. He was gentle as he placed you down before climbing up beside you. His arms cradled around your body, warm and inviting as he held you close, his lips leaving gentle kisses at your temple.

"Your heart is beating so fast," he mused, voice barely audible above a whisper despite being the only two people in a sizable radius.

"Perhaps that is because I have just been ravished by a vampire who then carried me off to his bed." You couldn't help the teasing laughs at the way Diluc froze, suddenly realising how his actions might be interpreted. His hands left your body, which now felt cold in his absence, as he sat up and started to move away before you reached out for him and pulled him back down.

"No. Stay," you murmured, guiding his hands back to wrap around you.

His porcelain skin remained its usual pale shade, but you knew his face would be a blushing inferno if it were capable. He stumbled over his words, struggling to regain his composure. "You should know my intentions were only pure."

"I trust you. Regardless of your intentions, I am grateful to be here. Even if only because you feel so warm."

Diluc's laugh was a welcome sound. "Then please, feel free to use me as you see fit. So long as you stay here for the night."

"I think I can grant that request. Since you asked so nicely."

"I am forever indebted to you," he said before bringing his lips to yours again. Something about the way he so confidently moved was enthralling. Diluc had truly ensnared you in every way, though the same could be said about your own hold over him.

"In all my years I have never felt so whole. I don't think I realised just how lonely this place was. Or how lonely I was. Until you. Thank you."

Taken aback by his sudden confession, you hesitated a moment. His fingers toyed with yours, admiring the way your hand fit against his as he waited for you to speak. "Somehow it almost feels like destiny. As if the gods were waiting for the exact moment to lead me here."

"Whether it was some god-given blessing or merely lady luck on our side, I will be eternally grateful." Silence descended upon the two of you, comfortable and cosy as you lay in each other's hold. Time felt as though it had frozen, bestowing you the chance to bathe in this bliss for as long as you desired. It was only the growing tiredness that proved the world was still turning even as you remained there.

"You know," you spoke between sleepy yawns. "I've been wondering about something. Do vampires sleep?"

Diluc chuckled, a low hum that made your heart skip a beat. "We can, though we have no need. It isn't quite like your human slumbers, but rather a meditative rest that does little more than clear the mind for a time. We can take periods of rest, though they usually last weeks or months, sometimes even years. They are not needed quite so frequently, nor am in desperate need. Besides, I have a human to care for." He stroked a gentle finger against your cheek, his touch feather light as if he was scared he might shatter the serene moment with anything stronger.

"Hm, most interesting."

"You sound like you're conducting a study." Diluc made to tease you a little more until you yawned again, sleep desperately calling for you. "Close your eyes. I won't leave your side."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he replied as your consciousness waned and the most peaceful sleep you'd perhaps ever had washed over you.

That night was not the last you spent with Diluc. In fact, it soon became rare to be apart from him when you slept. His presence brought a soothing peace to your nights, allowing you to rest even more soundly. Since that first night he'd started to open up bit-by-bit, letting you in to even more of his previous life, including his family. A raw pain would cloud his face each time he told you of his brother, Kaeya, and the memories they shared as children running about the winery. But he no longer shied away from the pain that reopening those old wounds brought and instead kept it on display for you to witness. He wasn't scared anymore to have someone see him for all that he is and was; wasn't scared to let you see every piece of his past no matter how light or dark. His soul was yours to hold and cherish. Even when the inevitable night came for Diluc to divulge the single most tragic event of his life, he did not falter nor hide away from you.

The sun was long gone beyond the horizon, and the night grew cold. You and Diluc were lounging together, reading in comfortable silence before you retired to bed, when a thought struck you suddenly.

"Diluc, when was the last time you fed?" He'd been keeping to the manor a lot more than before, only leaving for short excursions to purchase food. Since choosing to spend your nights together, Diluc hadn't once left in the middle of the night to quench his thirst. Going a few days without drinking blood was no trouble, but it was fast approaching two weeks since he'd last done so—unless he'd magically snuck away without you noticing somehow.

"Ah, it was...some weeks ago. But you needn't worry." Some weeks? Had it somehow been even longer than you thought?

"Needn't worry? I know better than to trust that. Aren't you hungry? Thirsty? Whatever the right word is."

Diluc chuckled, lowering his book to one side as he reached a gentle hand to caress your cheek. "I'm surviving, aren't I?"

"Talk to me, Diluc. I'm here."

Something in Diluc's expression shifted, acceptance sinking in as he took your hands in his. This was something he had wanted to share for some time but could never find the words nor a moment that felt right. It seemed you'd given him the perfect opportunity to take one more step into his past.

"On the night you arrived here, after I made sure you were comfortable and sleeping, I left to find those Treasure Hoarders that attacked you. I don't know what came over me, really. But I couldn't let them walk away unharmed after what they did to you. I only intended to scare them off but got a little...carried away. Long story short that was my first human blood in decades. I try to refrain because every time it sends me back to memories of the first time." Diluc paused, a look of anguish passing over his features. You gently squeezed his hands, a warm reminder that you were there and you were listening. Always.

Diluc took a calming breath before continuing, "It was so long ago now yet it feels like only yesterday. I had just been turned and the agony was blinding. I barely knew who I was, just that I needed to satiate the scorching pain in my throat. There was nothing human about me then. Not as I tore this manor apart. And the people in it. Even my—" Diluc winced at the sound of the memory leaving his lips, his eyes falling on a black eyepatch sitting atop the mantel. This was the secret he'd buried so deep and now someone finally knew his most grievous sin. "By the time I finally regained any sense of who I was, it was too late. Far too late. It took months to stop seeing their blood on every surface of this place. I could barely live with myself but how do you kill a vampire? Granted eternal life at the cost of living with an all-consuming grief. In all honesty I'm surprised I can bear to say it aloud even now."

Words didn't feel enough in this moment. What Diluc told you had broken your heart into miniscule fractals. To think he had borne such a painful wound for so long with no sense of reprieve in sight. It required a strength few actually possessed. You slipped your hands out of Diluc's gentle grasp, moving to cup his cheeks, a thumb softly swiping away at a tear that trailed down his marble smooth skin. Diluc smiled, a raw vulnerability in his face that put together every shard of your heart that broke for the man before you.

"After I finally regained a grasp on myself I wanted nothing more than to run as far away from here as possible. I almost did. But I couldn't let the place fall to ruin. I couldn't let go of my human memories, if only to keep the people within them alive somewhere. So I stayed here, as hard as it was in the beginning. Kept the Winery business going as much as I could, sold the tavern my father owned in Mondstadt. Did what I could to find some sense of normalcy amongst it all. I'm sure if you went into the city you'd hear whispers of rumours. Luckily it's enough to keep curious humans from tempting fate and sneaking around the Winery grounds."

"You make it sound like you're some ghost haunting those that dare step foot anywhere near your home."

Diluc chuckled, his fingers absentmindedly trailing shapes over your arms. He was quiet for a moment, wanting to savour the foreign taste of serenity. He'd never thought he could find such peace in the form of another, yet here you were sitting there, as real as anything in this world. If it weren't for the feel of your skin under his fingertips, he might just be convinced that this were all an elaborate dream sequence.

"In those early years I was terrified some stray humans would venture too close and I'd lose control all over again. Over time it got easier as I figured out ways to deal with the thirst—ones that didn't require any sort of human involvement."

"Thank you for trusting me with this. My heart is breaking for all that you've been through, Diluc. I wish there was more I could do."

He shook his head. "You have already done so much for me. More than I could ever deserve."

You hushed Diluc with a finger over his lips. "None of that. You are worth far more than you realise. And that means no sacrificing your health. I know it's hard, but you can't hurt yourself, Diluc. You deserve to live."

"I know," he sighed. "But I blame you for making things so difficult. Wait, let me explain. After that first night I tried to justify what I'd done, deciding it was merely justice for the violence they'd inflicted. That I could return to my usual routine of hunting. I didn't account for the effect you would have on me, nor the aching desire to taste you. The last thing I wanted was for you to think I only took you in to be used as a meal. You're so much more than that to me, yet with each day that passes the urge to drink grows stronger and stronger."

Stunned, you stayed quiet as the admission sank in. Of all the things you'd expected to hear Diluc say, his desire to drink your blood was not one of them.

"Diluc," you whispered, barely audible in the silence of the manor. "Know that my opinion of you remains unchanging. Being a vampire does not make you any less human nor does it make me fear you. Please, don't hold back anymore." You edged closer to press the softest of kisses to his lips, feeling him respond in kind. Your cheeks were stained with tears to match Diluc's as if your bodies had reached an unfathomable synchronicity.

"I trust you. So please, take what you need from me. It's all for you."

Diluc didn't hesitate to lower his mouth to your neck, gentle with each press of his skin against yours. There was some trepidation in his actions, unsure and worried for what he might do. But if you could place your trust in him, could put your life in his hands then he had to trust himself. He kissed your neck, sending a shudder down your spine as he sank his teeth into the skin. The feeling was unlike any other you'd felt. His hold on you was secure, making you feel safe as an unrelenting wave of euphoria washed over you—no doubt a side effect to make the process more inviting to a vampire's prey. But you were not Diluc's prey, nor was he a threat to you. This was an intimate exchange between lovers, bonding in a way they could never go back from. As Diluc drank, you felt your hold on your sanity slipping. Hazy and drowning in the euphoric sensations, you tangled your fingers in Diluc's flaming hair. The sound he made was all shades of divine. Unable to hold back your own echoing sounds of satisfaction, Diluc lifted his head from your neck to gaze at you. His pupils were wide, the amber of his eyes deep and dark. Your chest heaved with every breath you took, reeling from the dulling waves of pleasure as Diluc's lips crashed against yours, a faint metallic tang on his tongue. His arms lifted you atop his lap, hands strong as they held you tightly in his grasp.

"And there was me thinking you could not become any more divine. The hold you have on my heart is beyond words, but know that I intend to cherish you for all of eternity."

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin diluc x reader #genshin fic #genshin diluc fic #ah look it's the return of the vampires hehe #an inevitable comeback really #but this time it's diluc flavoured because yes #idk why vampire diluc hits so hard it just DOES okay i have definitely not brainrotted over this an unimaginable number of times i swear #yes i have that is a lie #ANYWAY here is the culmination of my pain and suffering /pos in the form of sad and lonely vampire diluc slowly opening himself up again #anna writes

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cheeriecherry · 2 years

Text

The Lonely [Chapter Seven]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Warnings: blood, accidental murder, you briefly get impaled, mentions of depression/not wanting to live, dramatics on both your and Viktor’s parts, Fandom: Arcane Proofread: no lol

Chapter Summary: You have a bad day and the Viktor tries to make it better.

Three weeks have passed since Viktor woke up after you turned him. As you expected, he’s been a little cranky and terse in your few interactions, so you’ve been leaving him well enough alone. You know better than anyone what it’s like to suddenly have the world come alive around you, new sights and smells and sounds that never end; it’s beautiful, but wholeheartedly overwhelming for the first little while.

What surprises you is how well he’s handling it all: yes, he’s a little unpleasant to converse with at the moment, but he’s been quiet and comfortable so far - holed up in the library to read and study, equipped with those silly teething rings you’d gotten him and a mini-fridge full of blood bags. It’s a little unsettling how easily he’s able to fall back into his old lifestyle, but you’re trying to keep an open mind - you’d been forced into vampirism: Viktor had chosen this.

But you still have guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders, negative thoughts crowding and swirling around in your mind. Typically you’d just push them down, or distract yourself with other tasks, but nothing…feels right. You don’t need to sleep, and yet you find yourself lacking the energy to do more than just sit on a chair in the scullery and watch the snow fall through the window. Or maybe you lack the motivation? The most daunting task you have on hand is draining the basement, but you’ve got a hundred other things piled up on your list.

Why can’t you just pick one?

You sigh deeply, deep in the tangled mess of your thoughts. Apparently you’re loud enough that your friend hears you, though, even from all the way up in the library: he appears in the doorway most suddenly, startling you so badly that you pitch sideways out of your chair.

You glare up at him from the floor with halfhearted malice, and he offers you a hand as well as an apologetic smile.

“I didn’t mean to catch you at unawares,” he says, helping you to your feet. “Though you must be…incredibly distracted, not to have heard me approach. Are you alright?”

The genuine concern in his tone is what really ties your stomach in knots: you’ve been giving him space while he adjusts to his new life, but without his presence to aid your generally sour mood, you’ve been…spiraling. In the few months you’ve known him, you’ve gotten used to him as a presence in your life, and to not have him around - even temporarily, and for his own good - you’re lonely.

You want to see him every day; talk to him, learn with him, laugh with him, witness him thrive! You want to be there for all his new discoveries and triumphs, you want to listen to him excitedly dump facts about alchemy and science, you want…him. You want him, and it makes you feel guilty, and nauseous, and horrible. He’s going through so much, and for you to throw all your feelings at him in a time of vulnerability-

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice brings you out of your head, and you snap back to the present with a small smile. “I’m fine,” you assure him, though it’s obvious he doesn’t believe you. You persist anyways, telling him, “I think I just need to hunt, is all. You know how scratchy the feeling gets.”

Viktor finds a seat in the chair beside you, and his cool hand finds a place on your thigh - meant to be a comforting gesture, you know, but if you had a heartbeat, it would certainly be fluttering in your chest.

“We have blood in the fridge,” he says softly.

You shake your head, pat his hand with your own, and try to offer him the same unconvincing smile. “That’s your blood, sweetheart,” you say gently, “It’s harder to get in bags, so we can’t go around wasting it while I’m able to catch my own.”

His fingers dig into your thigh. “We’ve got plenty. I just had some this morning-”

“I need to hunt, Viktor.”

The sharpness of your tone surprises both of you into silence, and you sigh again. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been…a little grouchy, lately.”

“So there is something bothering you, then?”

You crinkle your nose up. You don’t really want to tell him about everything you’ve been feeling; you know you should, and that he would definitely want to try and help you, but…would he blame himself at all? For being unavailable to you, even though he’d just had his life drastically altered?

It’s not his job to look after me, you decide.

“I’m restless,” you tell him, and it’s only half a lie. “Bagged blood is good when you’ve first turned - it’s easier to control yourself - but eventually the desire to… chase prey… arises. I need to let some energy out.”

He seems a little more convinced with this explanation, though the narrowing of his eyes makes you think that he knows there’s something you’re not telling him.

He doesn’t mention it, in any case, and you’re not going to jump at the chance to spill your secrets.

You rise from the chair, and Viktor lets his hand fall back into his own lap. You give him a quick kiss on the forehead, promise that you’ll be back before dinner, and disappear out the door into the snow.

___

Hikers are always your favourite type of meal. They’re easy to come by, since the land all around you is full of winding and meandering trails, and they’re easy to locate: they make so much noise tromping around in the underbrush, especially in the winter when everything is frozen and crisp. They’re the best tasting kind of human, deliciously warm, and with their hearts pumping hard in their chests.

Thinking about it as you wander along a secluded forest trail makes your teeth ache and the edges of your vision fade to black. Admittedly, you haven’t been the best at taking care of yourself in centuries past; going too long between meals, and making your hunts too primal and uncontrollable. You’d still managed to save the few people you had taken too much from, but it was questionable how their lives had fared afterwards - had they had a fruitful existence? Or had your momentary lapse in self awareness caused them to always be left behind?

You had never really enjoyed hunting. It satisfied the instinctual need to sink your teeth into a living creature, but it wasn’t pleasing by any means. You could never get into it like your father had: he had loved seeing the fear in the eyes of humans, and hearing them plead and beg as he bit into them and bled them dry. He’d tried time and time again to get you to take the same pleasure in the hunt, but you were steadfast and stubborn.

How different would you have been, if you’d been what he wanted you to be? Would you have turned Viktor with ease? Would you have even taken him in? Hell, would you have even stayed cooped up in an old castle all these years, or would you still be out in the world?

Your head throbs, and the corners of your vision darken again. Maybe Viktor had been right, earlier, when he’d suggested having some blood from a bag: you were in no state of mind to be hunting right now - not if you didn’t want to lose control and hurt someone.

You turn on your heel to head back home, only to freeze when you finally realize there’s someone standing behind you. A man maybe a little taller than you, donning typical winter walking gear as well as a surprised expression.

He looks somewhat wary as he watches you, not making any moves to come closer, but still too curious to turn the other way and run. You must be quite the sight, you think: hair a mess, and wearing nothing more than thin brown leggings and a billowing cotton shirt.

“Are you okay?” the man asks, swallowing thickly. You can see the pulse in his neck, hear how steady his heart is in his chest, and your head pounds again, darkness creeping further into your line of sight.

“Are you lost?” he wonders again, taking a couple steps towards you, “Jesus, you’ve gotta be freezing. I can take you back to town, though it’s a ways…shit, do you have anywhere to go-”

All at once, he stops pacing forward, stops talking, and stares at you. Something in your posture must have changed, the way you can feel your control slipping: he knows you’re a threat. His heart rate has nearly doubled, as if he’s realized his impending demise.

You try to fight against your instincts, try to stay where you are.

You take a step towards him.

He takes a step back.

You take another step.

He barely has time to turn around before you’re on him, tackling him into the snow in a flurry of hissing and shouting. The man struggles, wiggling and kicking and trying to throw you off, but you’re too strong: you pin his arms and sink your teeth into his neck, and then it’s only a matter of time before he goes limp. You’ve not given him enough venom to turn him, only to temporarily tranquilize him; he won’t even realize what’s happening while you feast on him.

His blood is bitter on your tongue, though. It’s as fresh as it can possibly be, and yet it does little to sate your constant thirst - it’s thin and watery, and doesn’t call to you the same way Viktor’s blood had. Though in your experience, no one has ever drawn you in like he has; not a human, nor a vampire.

You pause as you hear a soft click a little ways away, the darkness in your vision just beginning to fade, and not a second later, pain blooms hot in your shoulder.

You drop the man in your grasp, and stare down at the spot on your chest that now pinches and burns. You’ve been shot in the back, you realize, when you see some of your skin rising to a point just below your clavicle. The barest hint of silver - the head of a crossbow bolt - pokes through your skin.

Someone shot you.

All at once, the darkness that had been clouding your mind throughout the morning boils to red, and you feel your last shred of control snap in half.

It takes only a couple seconds to find the other person, hidden up in a tree some thirty feet away, cursing and complaining about ‘missing the shot’. You want to wonder what he means, but you’re fading.

The last thing you see before you’re consumed by red, is the face of a frightened man as you knock him out of a tree.

___

You come back to awareness slowly, as if waking from a deep slumber. You feel the tickle of your hair against your neck, and the scratch of tree bark on your arm. It’s quiet, you note, with not a sound of bird or mouse. The air is fresh - cold, even - and the soft ping of snowflakes on your skin rouses you further.

When you finally open your eyes, it’s dark. Not completely dark - not with your enhanced vision - but there is no light of moon or stars; the sky is cloudy, a dim orange reflecting down from the distant city lights.

You stir a little, tensing with a soft groan when pain radiates across your chest and down your arm.

What happened?

You look around blearily, trying to figure out where you are and what you’d been doing, and your gaze settles on a dark lump not far from you. Partially covered in snow, completely still and silent, but something about the shape is not quite organic to the forest.

You crawl towards the mass, ignoring the sharp sting across your torso, and settle beside it. You don’t need to touch it to realize what it is: you can smell the stale blood lingering in the air, as well as the beginnings of decay. Part of your mind vaguely remembers toppling the now-deceased man from up in a tree…but you’re not sure what killed him. Was it the fall? Or was it blood loss, after you drained him?

You push yourself away from the corpse, and shakily rise to your feet. You’re deep in the forest, and it’s snowing hard. No one would find the evidence of your crimes until at least the spring, when the ice would melt and the body would begin rotting faster. Even if you left tracks tonight, they would be covered by morning.

You nod to yourself, still dazed, and start off in the direction you know is home. You feel like you’re forgetting something, but with everything that’s happened, you just want to be back safe within the walls of your castle.

___

You walk quietly in through the front door, closing and barring the grand wooden slab behind you. You vaguely register Viktor calling to you, but you don’t reply; you’re in a haze, and you only have one thing on your mind.

Walking into the kitchen, you drag one of the knit rugs up off the floor, revealing a metal hatch laid into the stone. Viktor calls to you again, closer this time, and you continue to ignore him, instead pulling the little latch up and descending down the flight of stairs beneath it.

It’s not a particularly large cellar, nor is there much stored in it anymore. You kicked your habit of daydrinking nearly a century ago, but so many years on your own had left the poor wine racks nearly empty, and covered in dirt and dust. Shit, you weren’t even sure if the stuff was still good.

But regardless of what may be inside it, you select a large bottle and carry it back up into the kitchen, kicking the hatch closed behind you and haphazardly tossing the rug back over it.

A catch of breath sounds from behind you, and you flick your gaze towards Viktor, who is standing shocked in the doorway.

“Hello,” you rasp, pulling at the cork in the bottle. When it doesn’t come free, you hiss in frustration and wrap your hand around the neck, snapping the head clean off. The tiniest bit of wine spills, splashing down your hand, but you’ve no mind to care. You bring the jagged edge to your lips.

“What happened?” Viktor croaks, coming closer to you, his eyes wide. “You’re covered in blood- and is that an arrow in your shoulder?”

You take a long swig of wine, which had definitely soured sometime in the past two hundred years, and shrug.

“I got shot,” you say nonchalantly.

“I can see that. What the hell happened?”

You stare at him for a couple seconds, and then sigh.

“I fucked up, Viktor. I fucked up. I was cranky, and thirsty, and I was going to come home, and-” the memories come flooding back, “Fuck, I lost control, and I- I got shot, and- and-”

Your voice quivers harder with every word you speak, so you elect to take another couple mouthfuls of wine.

Viktor slowly makes his way to your side, and finally gets a decent look at the bolt protruding out of your right shoulder. He doesn’t ask about the person who shot you, knowing full well what ‘losing control’ means: instead he gently takes the bottle from your hands, and focuses on the thin rod stuck in your body.

You complain a little bit, reaching out for your drink, but he holds it well out of your grasp. “Consuming an entire bottle of questionable sixteenth century wine will not help your condition,” he says, shushing you when you try to argue, “But removing the, ah… debris from your shoulder will.”

You frown at him, but help him remove your bloodied shirt nonetheless, dropping it to the floor in a heap.

Viktor’s touch is gentle, as he studies the wound and assailing object. Even when he tugs on the bolt to test how stuck it is, he barely causes you any pain; you’re not sure if it’s because you’re still so out of it, or if it’s because he’s genuinely so careful with you.

He moves around to poke at the front of your body, where the tip of the arrow just barely pokes through your skin, and you watch him carefully. It miffs you, how little you can sense about him now. His cheeks don’t flush that pretty pink, and his heart can’t quicken in his chest anymore. You can’t tell if he’s totally focused on helping you, or if he’s just uninterested in the fact that you’re shirtless in front of him.

“It’s barbed,” he mumbles, dropping his hands away from you so he can pace around the kitchen. “Getting the bolt back out is going to be…unpleasant. If it were further through your body, we could pull it out easier, but-”

“Just push it through,” you say, and Viktor pauses mid-step.

“Just- excuse me?”

“Just push it the rest of the way through, and yoink it out,” you say again.

Viktor looks at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “I’m not going to impale you!”

“Pity.”

“You!” He pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, “Are in a decidedly foul mood.”

You throw your arms up, ignoring the sting in your shoulder. “I wonder why!” you nearly yell, “Maybe because I murdered someone? Actually, no, I think I murdered two someones, but I don’t fucking remember!”

“It’s not just tonight, Y/N! You’ve been unpleasant ever since-” he takes a breath, and his next words are calmer, “-ever since you turned me.”

You roll your eyes, and march over to the nearest stone wall. Viktor watches you in question for a couple seconds, and by the time he realizes what you’re doing, you’ve already slammed your back - and the crossbow bolt - against it. It pierces easily through your skin, and you rip it the rest of the way out before he can do anything.

“I’m fine,” you say, gesturing to the hole that is swiftly knitting itself shut. “I’m already healing-”

In a flurry of movement, Viktor shoves you back against the wall. He’s strong enough now that his grip on your arms makes your bones ache, and you can’t escape no matter how much you wiggle.

“Whether or not you’re healing is beside the point,” he hisses, anger lighting up in his eyes, “By the gods, why are you always so ready and willing to hurt yourself?”

You pause, your own malice fizzling away at his words, and all at once a deep sadness replaces it. Tears well up in your eyes, no matter how hard you fight them, and tumble down your cheeks. “Because I’m old and I want to die, Viktor. And I can’t. And now I’ve condemned you to the same fate, and I- I’ve killed people, and- and- I don’t deserve good things!”

As your words sink in, his grip on your arms loosens to naught but a gentle touch, and the rage fades from his eyes as he lets his head fall forward to rest in the crook of your neck. “You still think you’ve damned me,” he mumbles, breath cool on your skin.

You say nothing, trembling harshly as you fight against the sobs bubbling in your chest.

Viktor releases his grip on your arms, pulling back a few inches to instead take your face in his hands. All the anger is gone from his expression, an unnamed intensity rising up in its stead. “I will say this as many times as I have to. Every day, if that is what it takes: my pain is gone because of you. I can breathe because of you. I am alive because of you. You have given me life beyond what I ever thought possible, and I intend to savor its many pleasures.”

He draws you closer, resting his forehead against yours, thumbing away the tears that leave tracks down your cheeks.

“However long it takes for you to believe me, I will wait,” he continues, “I will stay here in this old castle, gathering what knowledge it provides, and one day when you deem me ready, I will bring all of it to the world.”

Panic shoots through you at his suggestion of leaving, but he’s quick to calm you, “And wherever I go, I will take you along with me. We can see what lays beyond this castle, the moor, the sleepy little town down the hill. We can go anywhere you want, experience anything. We can get out of your father’s shadow, and away from the horrors he’s left behind.”

“Just…please,” He swipes the final tear from under your eye, “Zlatíčko, say you’ll stay with me, and try to let the world back in? However long it takes, just…try?”

Overcome with emotion, enticed by his pretty words and soft touch, you close the distance he’s kept between you. You kiss him, in a way so unlike the first; no longer are you reassuring him in a moment of panic, but seeking such a thing from him instead. He pulls you closer, his fingers knitting together behind your neck, and leans into you, pressing you against the wall.

He parts from you a couple moments later, leaving a trail of tiny kisses across your jaw and down your neck, to where he noses at your collarbone. His shallow breaths tickle at your skin, and you shiver at the sensation.

“I would have you right here,” he mumbles, pressing a mischievous kiss to your skin, “but I think we need to talk first. Perhaps after a bath, if you’re amenable?”

#The Lonely #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #vampire!reader #vampire!viktor #inappropriate settings for declarations of love #im hellbent on making this so fucking dramatic #and a tiny bit of plot if you squint

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