For The Angst Ask (thanks For Opening Them Btw) Vlad And Illness? He Waited So Long For His Mc (gn) Just

for the angst ask (thanks for opening them btw) vlad and illness? he waited so long for his mc (gn) just to watch them slowly dying in front of him, their last moments and what that entails? I want to be crushed haha

A/N: Hello anon! I took a little bit of artistic liberty here because I had an idea so its not illness, but rather an accident. The rest of the request is still honored.

CW: death, loss

Vlad x gn reader

Word Count: 1783

A Pureblood vampire has nothing but time. It becomes their only constant, the one fixed thing they can depend on as the world around them evolves and changes. The flow of time brings mighty mountains to their knees and changes the course of rivers. It has seen man crawl, then walk and now, in the late 19th century, begin to run as technology makes leaps and bounds within shorter and shorter time spans. And one sure thing about time: it never stops.

How does one bear the weight of years and decades and centuries? Vlad has found a way. Something that fascinates him. 

People. 

He has loved them with a ferocity sharp and deadly. That their lives are so fleeting, rising like sparks from a fire only to blink out of existence and return to darkness within mere decades, is what makes them precious. Worth fighting for. And he has never loved a human, or any other being, as much as he loves you.

You were the one he waited for. The one who imprinted yourself upon him like a brand, your essence burned into his soul with a heat that never subsided as he waited all those long years for you. And when the time came, when you understood who he was and what you meant to him, when you returned those extraordinary feelings of love and desire, he understood the words Shakespeare had penned when writing his greatest love story: 

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea 

My love as deep. 

The more I give to thee,

The more I have, 

for both are infinite.” 

You gave his world a beauty far beyond that field of roses he holds so dear. Vlad’s heart holds entire universes of love only for you. 

Which is why, when you told him you did not want to be turned, despite the consequence of death, he never once questioned it. He had simply raised your hands to his lips, his claret eyes closing as he pressed a kiss into your skin, accepting your decision. 

And decided then and there he would dedicate every moment you had together to bringing you joy. He would show you the world and in return, give the world the gift of your smile.

Which is why you were in London, exploring the world’s largest city and breathtaking capital of the British Empire. You were staying at Claridge’s, one of the grandest hotels London had to offer, and swept up in the whirlwind of pleasures Vlad had arranged: an outfit tailored just for you at London’s most exclusive boutique, high tea at one of the oldest tea houses in the city, a boat ride on the Thames. As you disembarked, hand in hand, a young boy was waiting with a message for Vlad. A mystery item he had commissioned was finished and would he care to come pick it up or have it delivered to the hotel? His rose-colored eyes had gleamed, his excitement dancing within their depths and along the curve of his lips. He would come right away. When you had asked what this mysterious item was, he had simply smiled softly. You would see soon, beloved. Go, the carriage that would take you back to the hotel was waiting just across the street. He would meet you in the hotel’s salon for supper.

You parted, his smile still warming your heart against the misty London air and you took the time to watch his tall figure grow smaller and smaller as he walked with the young boy down the street, eventually disappearing from view as they rounded a corner. Your heart could not be any fuller, your soul could not be more content. Vlad was the key that unlocked the truth about love: it mattered, more than anything. He mattered more than anything. Loving him had transformed your world into something so perfect it could be called heaven. You were so lost in your starry-eyed thoughts, your mind floating in the clouds on a breeze of affection and anticipation, you did not pay attention as you stepped onto the street.

You did not see the carriage with its spooked horse barreling towards you.

You did not hear the shout of warning.

You stepped out into the street.

And your world went black.

It’s tucked safely into the inside pocket of his jacket, carefully wrapped in the softest black velvet. One look at the pin, a detailed red rose made from the purest rubies with its emerald leaves and curving stem, made by one of the finest jewelers in Europe, and he knew it was worth every cent. It was a work of art and he was proud of the design he had created. He wanted something unique, something custom-made that no one else the world over could have, a symbol of his feelings for you and a sign to all who saw it that you, like the rose, are a rarity worth remembering, a beautiful spirit worth marveling at.

He turns the corner onto the street where you had gone ashore after your boat tour, his mind running through the way he imagines you will smile when he presents his gift, a smile that rivals the sun in all its brightness. All thought however screeches to a halt as he notices the crowd gathered, blocking most of the way. There are police wagons and officers doing their best to keep people away from something on the road. Vlad passes an elderly man sitting on the filthy flat pavement meant for pedestrians, his dirt-streaked face blanched with shock, hands shaking as he tries to drink from a flask. He hears the mumbled words, repeated over and over to no one in particular:

“The horse stepped on a nail. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t stop it. It stepped on a nail. I couldn’t stop it. They came out of nowhere. I couldn’t stop it-”

Uneasiness begins to slowly creep down Vlad’s spine like a spider descending on its silken thread. He was planning to walk around the crowd, his long legs swiftly taking him away from the buzzing and gawking of the crowd so he could get to you, his light, his love, and make sure you were ok. He will never be able to answer why he didn’t stick with this. Why instead of walking around the crowd, his feet begin taking him through it. 

Each step feels like the earth is trying to stop him, gravity is desperately pulling at his legs, trying to slow him. His feet feel like they are made of granite, dragging along as he shoulders his way through the dense, foul-smelling mass. Each beat of his heart becomes louder, the crowd’s murmuring becomes distorted. Fate has wrapped his heartstrings around her cruel fingers and pulls, forcing him to shamble his way toward a truth that will sunder his very soul.

He breaks through the throng. 

And sees you lying there, your soft hair touching the filth of the street, your head pillowed by hard, uneven cobblestones. 

Someone has thrown what looks like a shabby picnic blanket over your body, but Vlad can smell the blood through the fibers, through the grime of a London street. Your eyes are open, blinking rapidly, your lips trembling as you mouth one word. He recognizes the shape of his name.

“I’m here, beloved.” How he manages to speak through a throat full of thorns is a miracle, another question with no answer. He sinks to his knees beside you, feeling the dampness soak through his trousers, the hard stone biting at him. “I’m here.” You turn your head and the effort that costs you is evident in the flickering light of your beautiful eyes. He reaches out with a shaking hand, the movement slow as if underwater, and manages to brush your hair off of your forehead with infinite tenderness. His fingers are stained red with the blood trickling down your temple. He repeats the motion anyway.

Your breathing is labored and erratic but you refuse to look away, holding his gaze for as long as you can.

“I’m…..sorry.” Your voice wheezes, rough with strain.

His heart shatters into a thousand pieces. Tiny shards that embed themselves into his own lungs, that twist his stomach into a Gordian knot, that pierce his very soul and cling, barb-like and heavy.

“No, my love. My dearest one. No.” He smiles. It is a reflex, a gesture of comfort. His lips shift without him even conscious of it. Words continue to find a way through his blocked throat. Because he knows you need them. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” His hand, still trembling lightly, slides down, cupping your face, the one he has loved for ages, the one white as bone and red with blood. “I love you.”

A shudder wracks your body and your eyes close. For a moment you don’t breathe and panic seizes him, gripping his mind with hands of steel. No, no. Just another moment. No.

And then you manage another breath. Your eyes open again, seeking his. Your lips part and he leans down to catch your labored, whispered words.

“I’m….scared.”

The truth of it bears down on him. He has seen death so often that it had become as innocuous as the changing of the seasons. Spring follows winter, autumn follows summer. People are born, live out the time they are given, and then die. 

And yet your words have turned the world upside down. Death is no longer an abstract, cyclical idea. It is real. It is on that grimy cobblestone street, leaning over you, reaching down, seconds away from taking you away from him forever. Stealing every place you never went. Every kiss you haven’t shared. Every declaration of love yet to be spoken.

Vlad presses his lips to your cold forehead, his hand still cupping your face.

“I’m here, beloved. I promise, it will be okay. I’m with you.”

Your eyes are on him, but they are no longer focused. The flame of life inside of them is sputtering as the curtains slowly close on your mortality. Your breathing becomes rapid, uneven, louder. The sound forever burns itself into his memory. 

You draw one breath.

His soul quakes. Don’t go, beloved.

And then another.

Beloved……I’m scared.

And then you are still, sightless eyes gazing into nothingness.

……..beloved?......

And his world goes black.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bubblexly

🎊Happy birthday Chevalier🎊

Understaffed

Genre: Comedy

Wordcount: 1326

Prompt: In A Flash CCC hosted by @flash-exchange - October 2023: Magic Apprenticeship

A/N: My first entry for the In A Flash CCC! This one was inspired by the folks over on Discord, you guys rock for helping me finish a fic after so long! I will try my best to write some more as the challenge continues. For this fic, it's been split up as 2 separate parts, the first part being mainly from Jin's perspective and the second continuing from Yves and Nokto's. Many thanks to @lorei-writes for the feedback and suggestions. Enjoy!

Jin Grandet was not a warlock. At least, not officially.

It wasn’t because he had a late start. Most children couldn’t even read spells from the rudimentary tomes at age six, let alone pronounce them. And it wasn’t as if he was without talent. It was common knowledge throughout the kingdoms that the sorcerer’s gene manifested strongest within royal bloodlines. No, the true reason Jin failed his Warlock Mastery Examination was far less magical than he’d like to admit. 

But that’s a story for another time. And even if the minimum age to apply was fifteen, it didn’t mean he was barred from trying again another year. Heck, most applicants didn’t even make an attempt until they were double that! But of course, Chevalier came of age the next year, and while the exam was merely a formality for the prodigy, barely anyone bothered to register for that round. Fueled by fiery rivalry, Clavis was hot on Chevalier’s heels the year after that, and Jin was too preoccupied with helping him train to even consider enrolling himself. And just a few weeks prior, Leon passed his exam with flying colors. A feat Jin attributes to his apt sideline encouragement and diligent inspections of Leon’s daily meat intake. 

So what if he didn’t pass? Jin could still perform magic as well as any warlock. He just didn’t have a staff to show for it. Instead, he could boast that the never-before-seen-three-year-streak of fifteen-year old graduates were his students.

“For the last time, we are not your students,” Yves declared.

“And why wouldn’t you want to be?” Jin asked. He waved a hand and the curtain of low-hanging branches before him parted, revealing a narrow dirt path ahead. “I have a one-hundred percent success rate. And you’re my next conquest, Yves.”

“Yeah, Evie. Why don’t you take him up on his offer?” Nokto said, following Licht as they climbed down after Jin. “Then you can tell us if he’s legit or not.”

“Oh, he’s the real deal,” Leon said. He took a steady stance beside a cherry oak and swung his newly acquired staff overhead, making all the barren trees in the vicinity shake and shoot their branches upward like spikes. Nokto watched in awe as Leon calmed the trees down and flashed him a toothy grin. “Can’t recommend the big guy enough.”

“No, no, no, my brothers. You mustn’t let the opinions of others sway your decision making!” Clavis said, pushing past Leon. “Ask yourselves this: do I want to be taught by a syrupy dropout, or by the youngest, most renowned warlock of our age?” He struck the ground with his own staff and the dirt rumbled. Moments later, roots and tubers erupted from the earth like the undead, making Yves screech and trip on an upright rose stem. Clavis laughed maniacally as the plants continued to grow, until Leon whacked him on the head and the vegetary scene immediately reverted underground as if it never happened. 

“I’m younger than you, remember?” Leon countered.

“And I was younger than you both when I passed,” Chevalier added, his pace leisurely as he joined them.

“Yes, yes, you don’t have to remind us again how your test happened three days after your birthday,” Clavis said, rubbing his bruised forehead. “It is insufferably pedantic of you.

“Shall I remind everyone instead of how you only passed because the examiner happened to sneeze when you flubbed the fire retardancy enchantment on your trousers?”

“Like I said, little ones. Follow what Jin says, and you’ll do just fine,” Clavis said.

“If you’re done sharing my many virtues, hurry on over!” Jin called. The group exchanged speculative glances before filing through the unanimated greenery towards his excited voice.

Flummoxed by their seniors’ effortless display of magical prowess, Yves and Nokto insisted they take the lead, bewitching wayward wood knots and saplings from the path. Once or twice they glanced back, hopeful to receive praise for their successful spells, only to find the trio engrossed in their own conversation. 

“Maybe he wants to take us all on at once? Six against one?” Leon suggested.

“Please,” Clavis yawned, stretching his arms above his head and waving his staff teasingly. “He could squash the kiddos, no problem. But he won’t get much farther than that unarmed.”

“He brought his sword. Or is your staff so far up your rear that you did not notice?” Chevalier said, swatting Clavis’s staff away from his face. 

Yves and Nokto whirled their heads towards the track ahead, struggling to keep their attention back on moving the plants. Is that what this was all about? Despite Jin’s domineering stature, they had never once seen their brother in a fight. But Jin also was the most knowledgeable about the contents of the exam, even if he did fail his. Was this the type of error-correcting that guaranteed Chevalier, Clavis, and Leon’s successes?

The path eventually fed into a wide clearing as large as one of the training arenas at the palace. Even in peak autumn, thick shrubs still flanked all sides like a fence except for one; a cavernous cliff plummeted behind where Jin stood, his arms folded and mouth stretched in an expectant grin.

“Are we really gonna fight?” Nokto said nervously, reaching for his sword.

“Alright! Loser gets thrown off the cliff!” Clavis whooped. “Chevalier, fight me!”

“Slow down, we’re learning defensive tactics today,” Jin said. “Magic has limitless potential to attack, right? So it stands to reason that the same should be true in defense. Far too often does a warlock fall into the assumption that one trumps the other in combat.”

“Spoken nearly verbatim from Elemental Charms and Combat,” Chevalier said unamused.

“That means he knows his stuff,” said Leon. “But then why’d ya bring us here too, Jin?”

“No, Chevalier’s right. There’s only so much you can learn from theory alone. We need experience to connect the dots. And I sure as sugar wouldn’t hurt a hair on the little guys’ heads, so that’s where you lot come in.” Jin crouched beside Yves and Nokto and patted their shoulders. “Yves, you’ll spar with Chevalier. And Nokto, you get Clavis.”

Yves froze on the spot.  

“Oh, goodie…” Nokto mumbled. 

“Just remember the basics, and you’ll be fine,” Jin said, then he turned to the warlocks. “And don’t you go blasting infernos at them. We’re out here to prevent unnecessary bystander injuries. But remember, this is still a highly flammable area.” He glared at Clavis, who seemed to get a chill and wrapped his cloak firmly around himself.

“Wait. Where’s my partner?” Leon asked. A quick lookover of the clearing proved Licht was nowhere to be seen. 

“Maybe Leon’s branches pulled him up to the sky?” Nokto suggested.

“Or Clavis’s roots dragged him down below!” Yves gasped.

“Both,” Chevalier said, pointing over the cliff. Halfway down, Licht hung suspended and looking below, his shirt caught on a thorny branch tangled with crisscrossing roots. 

“Licht!” Yves and Nokto cried.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Clavis called down to him.

“Something tells me the branch will snap if he so much as breathes wrong,” Leon said. Licht answered with a shaky thumbs up.

“Everyone, change of plans!” Jin bellowed. “Today we’re doing rescue training. And not a word of this gets to Sariel, got it? Okay, let’s go!” He drew his sword and leaped over the edge, jamming it into the cliffside as he descended.

Shocked, and slightly relieved, Yves and Nokto followed Jin’s lead, the scraping sounds of their blades cutting rock disappearing with them.

“Moron,” Chevalier huffed. The air around him began to crackle as he inhaled deeply and swung his staff in a circular motion. “He didn’t even evaluate the situation for a full minute. And they still wonder why he didn’t pass—”

“You heard the boss!” Clavis and Leon yelled. Together they seized each of Chevalier’s arms and hurled themselves over the cliff, leaving their staves behind.

Listen, it is liberating to write Chevalier, Clavis, and Leon as comic relief side characters. Trust me.

Tagging: @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx @otomefoxystar @my-day6

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happy name day grumpy boy \o/

💌 Send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart, and if you get five back, you must be pretty awesome. 💌

ELLEN! Tumblr has been eating my asks so I saw this very late 🥲

Thank you so much for the message, right back at you 🥺♡

Here's a little Keith for you😌

Matthias was talking about that dorayaki as if he was in Shokugeki