Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It is 5:37 am and the sun is rising.

This is a normal occurrence that, on any other day, Grian would have slept through. The sunrise is lovely, but he's always been a night owl. Getting just a little bit more done on his builds has always been more important than a few extra hours of sleep (although his friends would say otherwise).

However, Grian has not been able to sleep at all the past few days. In fact, Grian is no longer entirely sure if he can sleep.

He's not exactly well-versed on vampires, after all. They're rare, and they don't exactly exist on Hermitcraft.

Correction: they didn't exist on Hermitcraft - until now.

Grian thinks it might've been the run-in with the Witch he'd had a few days ago, but he's not quite sure. He'd also been dungeon crawling at the time, he does have a tendency to touch stuff without thinking.

Either way, he's a vampire now. He hasn't left his house during the day for... well, since the problem started. Which, in itself, is almost another problem entirely - he hasn't been able to see his friends, hasn't been able to participate in anything, and he hasn't exactly made a lot of progress on his builds either.

Sure, he could do that at night, but at night, he has a different problem: the hunger gets worse.

Grian doesn't know much about vampires, but he knows that, at the very least, they drink blood. He - he can't drink human blood. So after a few days of avoiding the sun and avoiding his friends, he goes outside and tries to find an animal.

He'd underestimated his hunger. Grian spots a chicken, and then a moment later he's staring at it in his hands. Blood drips from his mouth, a horrible, sour taste that does little for the hunger clawing at his stomach.

He doesn't leave his house for a few more days after that. A week passes, during which he tries - and fails - to keep anything down.

Bread, fruit, stew... all of it tastes like ash going down, and tastes even worse coming back up.

Grian gives up on it after awhile. It's not helping.

A week passes, and he almost convinces himself that he could live like this. He could explain it to his friends, maybe even find a solution, or at the very least laugh it off together. Cursed by a Witch; it's the kind of thing that could become an embarrassing story, later down the road.

The problem is, he doesn't want to tell anyone. His hands feel shaky, and he doesn't feel like he can control himself. Keeping all the curtains closed just make him feel contained, his wings twitching everytime he passes the windows.

He needs to at least feed before he talks to anyone. Grian needs control - he needs to know he's not going to just attack someone just because he's hungry.

Of course, the night he decides to feed is the night that Scar finds him.

It's probably not a coincidence. The Hermits are nosy, but they'll leave well enough alone for awhile, as they all know what it's like to get caught up in projects or adventures. Scar, on the other hand, is both nosy and sharp, which means he picks up on things that others wouldn't.

The fact that it's Scar is just icing on the cake, really. Because of course Scar finds him in the most damning position.

Grian stares at Scar, blood dripping down his chin. There's a sheep in his arms, its eyes glassy and dull.

Oh Void, Grian thinks, distantly registering himself pulling the sheep closer, as though to hide the bite marks on its neck.

Scar stares back, his bright green eyes flicking between Grian and the sheep. "Hello there," he says, his voice lacking his usual energy. "Uh, G, is that -"

"It's not what it looks like," Grian says.

Scar nods slowly. "Okay. What do you think it looks like?"

"Um." Grian avoids looking down at the sheep. He hadn't been fully conscious until halfway through the feeding, and it doesn't look like he's a clean eater. "...Something bad?"

Scar's nose wrinkles. He has that look on his face, the one he gets when someone's being stupid and he's deciding whether to laugh with them or call them out.

The blood is seeping into Grian's sweater. At least he doesn't have to worry about it staining. The red will probably blend in just fine, once he's washed it.

His wings fold in a little at the thought. This isn't supposed to be convenient or easy.

Scar's eyes catch the movement. "Well then, enlighten me!" he says, faux cheer slipping back into his voice. "Whatever are you doing here, in the middle of the night, with that... uh... that poor sheep? It doesn't look like jam, you know?"

"No... no, I guess not," Grian mutters. His teeth worry at his bottom lip. "Well, uh -"

Scar's eyes widen.

Grian nearly flinches as the man comes closer, bright green eyes staring at his mouth. "Are those... Grian, do you have fangs?" he asks, and - oh. Right.

"Yeah," Grian says nervously.

Scar squints at him. "You're an avian," he says.

"Yep."

"Avians don't have fangs," Scar says, squinting harder. His own teeth, Vex-like and sharp, glint as he speaks. "Vampires do, though?"

Grian's throat closes. He shakes his head.

Scar sighs. "Is this why I haven't seen you out and about, G?" he demands.

Grian nods. "The sun," he says briefly, showing Scar his cheek.

Earlier in the week, some curtains shifted, despite his best efforts. As a result, the incoming light had burned a line down to his chin. It still stings a little.

It must also still look bad, because Scar makes a half-strangled noise in his throat at the sight. "Oh, Grian," he says sympathetically.

"It's not that bad."

"That's what you said about the sheep. I'm pretty sure it's dead."

Grian makes a face. Just because it's true doesn't mean Scar has to actually say it.

"So is it helping?"

Grian blinks. "What?"

"The sheep," Scar clarifies. "I'm assuming you're... you know. Feeding."

"You're not gonna ask like, how it happened, or...?"

Scar shrugs. "I mean, I'm assuming knowing how it happened hasn't exactly helped. After all..."

Scar's voice fades into the background. Grian vaguely registers something about farm animals and friends, but -

Scars keeps gesturing with his hands while talking. And the way his wrists look under the moonlight - Void, Grian swears he can see the veins of blood, shimmering just beneath the scarred skin.

He doesn't really realize he's leaning forward until Scar says, "G? You still with me?" and Grian blinks the haze out of his eyes to realize the sheep's long slid from his lap, and he's so close to Scar that, had the man still been gesturing, Grian would've been in danger of getting hit upside the head by accident.

Scar's eyes are soft with an emotion Grian can't quite name. "Still hungry?" the man asks.

"The sheep didn't quite do it for me," Grian manages, shrinking back into himself.

Something sparks in Scar's gaze at that. "Animal blood isn't working?" he asks.

"...No."

Scar frowns. "Do you need human blood?"

Grian's heart nearly stops at the question. He exhales shakily, unable to look Scar in the eyes.

"I don't know."

Chapter Text

Scar wakes up in the middle of the night and thinks, Where did Grian go?

It's not the first time he's wondered that. This past week, he's seen neither hide nor hair of the builder, but that in itself was no unusual occurrence.

No, what makes this odd is that this thought is accompanied by a Vex-instinct stirring within him, whispering about blood. Whispering about something else, too, something that probably has to do with a certain pesky bird.

Grian's gotten caught up in projects before, but a week is a bit long. Scar's found the man going without sleep before; now's the time to make sure he's alright.

Without further ado, Scar gets dressed - sure, it's the middle of the night, but no time like the present! - and makes his way to Grian's base. It's a pretty thing, but empty; when he pokes around inside, nobody's home.

He finds Grian eventually. Even if Grian was worlds away, Scar would find him - it's just how things are.

He finds Grian covered in blood, a dead sheep in his arms. He finds Grian, whose dark eyes are wide and nervous, and his first thought is, Red suits him.

"Do you need human blood?" Scar asks, and he watches as Grian's eyes flit away; the movement is an answer all on its own.

"I don't know," the other man says, his wings ruffling.

The Vex in him laughs at the lie. It's clear, from the way Grian's mouth twists at the sheep blood, that animals aren't helping. It's clear, from the way Grian had drawn close earlier, hazy eyes fixed on Scar's throat, what the avian was craving.

Scar is no stranger to cravings. It's interesting to see the look on Grian's face, though - the man's usually got a tight grasp on his emotions, managing to smile and laugh no matter what.

Not unlike Scar himself, he'd suppose.

Scar looks up at the sky, thinks carefully, and then smiles at Grian. "Come on, we should get you washed up," he says, reaching out.

Grian flinches.

Very quietly, Scar says, "It's alright, pretty bird. Come on, let's go. You don't want to be covered in blood 'til it dries, do you?"

There's something desperate in Grian's eyes. On a good day, Scar knows that Grian is the better fighter between the two of them. As Grian is now, he could probably rip Scar's throat out in seconds.

But this is Hermitcraft. And Scar is no stranger to dying.

After a long moment, Grian reaches out and takes Scar's hand. Where their fingers touch, Scar can feel cold, smooth skin.

He pulls Grian up carefully, stepping around the sheep in a silent agreement to ignore the poor animal's body. The smell of copper is strong, but Scar ignores it - he has plenty of practice ignoring his Vex cravings, and one dead animal isn't enough to distract him.

Grian could fly, and Scar has his elytra, but they instead pick their way across the ground. After a few steps in silence, Scar says, "I've been having trouble with my interior."

He can feel Grian's hand twitch in his. "Yeah?" the other man says, his voice hoarse.

"Mm-hm. You know, with all the blocks available this update, I thought I'd do something new! But then I thought, why don't I go with something familiar for my starter base, and then something new for my mega base! So the exterior is fine, but when it came to the interior..."

Scar rambles, complaining about his base and the update. Occasionally he talks about their friends, although Grian starts to get tense when he mentions them, so Scar carefully steers his rambling back to disconnected, random nonsense.

The walk back to Scar's base - Scar's, because it's closer - doesn't take that long. Grian doesn't seem averse to Scar's base, so he leads them right up to the doorway.

When he gets to the threshold, though, Grian comes to a halt, tugging at Scar's hand.

"Can I... come in," Grian asks, his expression uncomfortable.

Scar blinks. "Of course."

Grian's shoulders relax as they cross the threshold. Memories of vampire myths flit through Scar's mind, but he doesn't know exactly which ones are true and which ones aren't. He makes a mental note to cover the windows later.

The bathroom, thankfully, was finished ages ago. Scar lifts Grian, who is quite frankly small and light, and gently places him in the tub.

"Sorry," Grian mutters.

"For what?"

"Getting blood all over the floors."

Scar glances back at the trail they've left, splotches of red standing out against the wooden floors.

"It's no problem," he says dismissively. "Maybe it'll make any mischief makers think twice before setting up traps in my base!"

Grian laughs weakly. "Except for me. I'll know exactly what happened and set twice the traps."

"I'll be looking forward to it."

Helping Grian clean off the blood is an awkward affair. Grian doesn't make any moves to take his clothes off, and his wings take up half the tub - even though it's a fairly large tub - so Scar makes do by scrubbing the man's hair and making sure the water is warm.

"Want me to bring some clothes so you can dry off and change?" Scar asks, once he's determined there's little more he can do.

Grian's started trembling just slightly; it takes him a minute to meet Scar's eyes and nod.

Scar finds some clothes that aren't particularly large and a few fluffy towels. He leaves them in the bathroom with Grian and then goes to set up the spare bedroom. He has a plan, of sorts. The main part of this plan involves making sure there's nothing in this room that he doesn't mind losing, because wooden floors can be mopped and sanded, but cloth stains have a tendency of being impossible.

"Thanks for the clothes," Grian says, stepping into the room just as Scar's finished switched out the light, fluttery curtains for thicker ones that should block out the sunlight later.

Scar smiles, straightening the curtains. "Of course! Come in, sit down."

Grian makes his way to the bed, looking uncomfortable. "Um. I can't sleep," the avian confesses, his wings folding inwards. "I appreciate the bedroom, but..."

Scar nods. He can see the tension in Grian's body, returning with every second that passes.

"It's no problem. I figured it might be hard," he says, rummaging through the bedside drawer.
With a pleased noise, he pulls out a knife. Well now, that wasn't too hard to find!

A strangled noise comes from Grian. Scar turns to see the man staring at the blade, eyes wide. "What - Scar?"

Scar smiles warmly. "Yes, G?" he asks, tilting his head.

"What are you doing?"

Grian's voice sounds rather high. Scar wouldn't consider himself sadistic, but he can't deny that this is... a little amusing.

"Don't mind the floor," he says instead. "I don't mind stains, okay?"

And then he draws the knife across his forearm, drawing a thick line of blood that immediately starts dripping down his skin.

GoodtimewithScar was killed by Grian.

Chapter Text

Bodies aren't normally left behind after a respawn, but perhaps vampires play by different rules. Or perhaps this is the avian breaking the rules, yet again. It's a habit that Scar can only admire, really, an integral feature to the force of nature called Grian.

"I didn't want to hurt anyone," Grian snarls.

Scar grins, flashing his teeth. The Vex in him growls quietly, amused that anyone would challenge him in his own territory.

"And you didn't. Do you feel better?" Scar asks curiously.

"No."

"Do you need more?"

"I didn't want any at all!" Grian yells, stumbling to his feet. Scar notes that the avian looks more steady in his movements. Grian's face is even flushed, although that might be more from anger. "Dammit, Scar, what if you'd -"

"I died. And then I came back," Scar says calmly.

Grian freezes. He looks down at the body by his feet, then at Scar, who's still standing in the doorway.

"You... died?" the avian says, as if he's not quite certain about the words.

Scar raises an eyebrow. "It's a common occurrence. A true mark of the Scar Brand, if you will! Happens all the time."

Grian's teeth - his fangs glinting in the sun light - worry at his lip. "I got blood on the floor."

"It's alright. I made them easy to clean," Scar says dismissively. "So, do you need more? 'Cause it kinda defeats the purpose if you're still hungry and all."

Grian's face twists at that.

Scar glances at the ground, studying the amount of blood leaking out from his - oh, ew, that's technically his dead body on the floor, isn't it? - corpse. Just like with the sheep, it looks like Grian hadn't exactly been neat.

He remembers seeing Grian's eyes, just before the respawn. They'd been black, or red, wide and desperate and not entirely there.

The man must've been starving this whole week. Poor thing.

"I'm still hungry," Grian finally admits. "But I... I feel better. So."

Scar's extremely pleased. Not that he wouldn't mind if Grian didn't feel better, no, in that case he'd simply try something else, but it's nice to know that the solution is so easy.

He tells Grian as much.

"Should've asked first," Grian grumbles.

Scar nods. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to scare you."

Truthfully, he hadn't wanted to give Grian any other options. It was already dangerous, clearly - he hadn't wanted to wait until Grian couldn't control himself around another human, even if they were uninjured.

Scar opens his arms, and after a moment, Grian sighs. The smaller man slots between his arms, wings lowering ever so slightly as Scar runs his hand down the avian's back.

After a few moments, Scar pulls back slightly, studying Grian's face.

"What?" the man says, sounding suspicious.

Scar just laughs. "Don't trust me?" he asks, and he presses his lips against Grian's before the other man can mumble so much as a 'no.'

It's warm, and soft, and gentle. At first.

And then Scar finds Grian's teeth. He snickers softly, mouths vibrating against each other, before deliberately pressing his bottom lip against Grian's fangs.

Grian wrenches himself away as soon as the skin breaks.

"What," the man hisses, eyes wide, "in the world are you doing?"

Scar assumes an innocent look. "Kissing you?"

Grian's eyes are glassy. Normally, Scar would attribute that to his kissing skills, but this time it's probably because of the way they're fixed on his lip. He can taste the copper already.

Next time, it'll be because of his kissing skills. Hopefully.

Scar smiled as disarmingly as he can. "You don't want me?" he purrs, weaving a bit of Vex magic in his voice. It's little more than a mild suggestion, nothing that could force someone's hand.

If Grian kills him again, well, at least he's gotten kisses out of it.

Instead, though, Grian's wings rise slightly. The man looks at him, half-tensed and a little hazy. "Want you?" Grian echoes.

Scar tilts his head, pouting. "Don't you?"

Oh, dear, that was definitely a flash of red in Grian's eyes.

The tense, fearful expression fades away from Grian's face, replaced by something much more welcome. The avian's wings spread, shimmering in the dim light.

"Okay," Grian agrees, teeth flashing as he smiles. The expression is sharp as Grian climbs onto Scar, straddling him. Scar feels his heart skip a beat as Grian leans in, licking the blood beading along the cut on his lip.

When Grian pulls back, the uncertainty is gone, leaving behind a hungry, exasperated expression.

"Basically serving yourself on a plate," Grian mumbles, leaning back in to press his lips to Scar's neck. The teeth cut lines in his skin, causing a heady sensation. "Void, I could eat you forever and ever and you'd just come running back every time, wouldn't you?"

Scar flushes. It's true! That's what he's been doing this whole time, after all - how else would he get this stubborn man to feed properly?

There's just something about the low voice that Grian's using that makes Scar shiver, his face red with heat.

"I'm yours, G," Scar manages.

The half-lidded look that Grian gives him just makes things worse.

"You're mine," the man agrees, his wings wrapping around the two, legs still straddling Scar's waist. The cuts on his lip and his neck are bleeding sluggishly, slowly tracing lines down his skin. "Mine, and mine alone."

Chapter Text

Grian comes back to himself sometime between giving Scar his seventh hickey and his fifteenth cut. To be fair, the shallow cuts ooze blood in a manner that's incredibly appealing; all he has to do is lick it clean, move on, and then circle back for another treat.

Scar tastes like... Quite frankly, Scar tastes better than anything Grian can remember ever tasting.

Grian pulls the man closer, tasting something sweet and salty and savory all at once. And then his mind, fogged over with bliss and craving, has a slow and uncertain thought: Am I making out with Scar... or am I eating human blood... Am I a monster now?

After a moment, Grian opens his eyes.

Scar is staring straight back at him, the shine of moonlight making it easy to see his bright, green eyes.

It doesn't matter, Grian decides.

He's forgotten what it's like, to be with Scar and to be pulled along with the man's schemes. It becomes easy to laugh things off, to take action without worrying about the consequences. Recklessness feels natural; with the body still lying on the floor behind him, Grian's aware that this might be more than recklessness - but it doesn't matter.

It really, really doesn't, not when that's Scar's body on the floor but also Scar's face between his hands, flushed a lovely shade of red that's oh-so-easy to see, even in the shadows.

Grian can feel his lips curl into a smile as he presses his face against Scar's neck, feeling the skin move as the man swallows.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this," Scar says, and his tone is the kind of tone that's probably going to kill the mood. Something about 'eating enough,' probably.

Grian rolls his eyes, bares his teeth, and bites down hard.

The half-strangled gasp that Scar makes almost entices him into doing it again, but then his jaw loosens enough to let the blood start flowing, and -

Grian closes his eyes, nearly purring with satisfaction. His wings ruffle behind him, pleasure rolling through his body. "I could drink this for days," he groans, uncaring of the blood dribbling from his mouth.

It's good. He never wants to stop.

The choked, stuttery breathing doesn't bother him much. When Scar chokes out a short, "G," though, Grian glances upward, curious.

Scar looks... red? Redder than before.

Grian's eyes widen. "You're enjoying this!" he crows.

"...Never said I wasn't, pretty bird," Scar says, although his voice is somewhat hoarse. He smiles down at Grian. "Go slower, if you can?"

Grian pouts. "Do I have to?"

"Well, no," Scar concedes. "But if I pass out, or die, I expect some compensation, mister!"

"Mm. Nah," Grian snickers, going back to his feast. He realizes that it should smell like copper. It doesn't. It smells sweet, and savory, and - it tastes like food, like nothing else could possibly even compare, like everything else is trash before this.

Grian loves blood; it's a distant, hazy thought, but in the back of his mind, he starts wondering. Is it just Scar's blood? Or... would any human blood do?

He must say this out loud, or maybe he shifts in some way, because Scar's suddenly pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Two hands press against his back and neck, keeping Grian close to the bite marks he's lazily drinking from. "Don't go, pretty bird," Scar whispers. "We gotta make sure you're full before we figure anything else out."

Grian drags his eyes upward. Full?

A voice he doesn't remember laughs in his skull. He's never going to be full. Not when he's so hungry. Not when Scar is sitting here, neck bared and bleeding just for him.

Scar tenses, like he senses what's coming.

Grian laughs.

Goodtimewithscar was killed by Grian.

"I'll kill you again," Grian says, before Scar can step back inside. He stares at the bodies collecting on the floor. They're significantly paler now. He's tried to drink his fill.

He's not sure he'll ever be full again.

"That's alright," Scar says, as easily as ever. All of Grian's hard work, undone by a respawn.

No more cuts. No more bites. Just Scar and his steady, unruffled voice. "I'm the one who suggested this, didn't I?"

"...It doesn't matter."

Scar laughs. "Doesn't it?"

Maybe it doesn't.

Grian pulls Scar back down, nipping at his skin. It's chilled from the night air, but as Grian pressed his lips to Scar's neck, he can feel the blood rising to the skin. It's warm.

He feels Scar shiver and laughs. "We could do this forever, couldn't we?" Grian murmurs, his lips brushing below Scar's ear.

"If you want," Scar says, drawing him closer.

Grian noses his way down to Scar's collarbone, feeling the way his heartbeat picks up. "It'll be hard enough explaining the death messages later," he mumbled. "I should... stop?"

"Do you want to?"

Grian growls in frustration, his teeth catching against Scar's collar. "No."

"Then don't," Scar says simply. He smiles. There's an edge to his expression, a bit of Vex making the lines of his face sharper than usual. "Stay here, pretty bird."

Grian nips at Scar's shoulder, drawing a laugh from the man.

"Maybe I will," Grian mutters. "Maybe you'll never get to leave again. Did you think of that?"

"Maybe," Scar says, pressing a hand against Grian's cheek, "that was my plan along, hm?"

After a moment of kissing Scar until he's properly flushed and bleeding again, Grian drags the man to the bed, pulling him close. Scar laughs as his wings surround them both, effectively cocooning them together.

They've cuddled like this before. Perhaps not with Grian's teeth brushing Scar's neck, ready to bite - but it's a familiar setting.

"Don't believe me?" Scar teases, holding Grian just as closely.

Grian can sense, somewhere outside, the sun rising. He's tired. The hunger is still there, but... it's harder to act on, now.

He nips at Scar again. "Stay."

Scar's breath ghosts over his ear, warm and light and amused. "Of course, G. Anything for you."