#alucarddear requests

[alucarddear]

what if alucard’s wife dreams that he cheated? like she wakes up in the middle of the night almost crying and then occurs to her “oh, I was dreaming” but she’s still a little bit mad and get away from his embrace which wakes him up and he’s like “babe what’s wrong?” “you cheated” and he’s like “what? I didn’t!”. a little bit fluffy in the end with him assuring her that this will never happen because he loves her too much 🥹

+more requests that are along the same vein. Here’s to some of you seeking a comfort drabble with our beloved meow meow. 🤍🦇

Immutable Truth

Alucard’s wife dreams that he cheated on her. [She/her]

It is immutable truth. Just as the sun is bright and the nights are dark, I love you.

Alucard wakes to the sound of his wife sniffling next to him.

He wipes the sleep from his eyes and immediately attempts to take her in his arms, but she wouldn't budge. “What’s wrong? Another nightmare?”

He expects some half-slurred sad story—the usual culprit that breaks her sleep—but meets instead a fierce glare.

Her eyes are burning. "I dreamt that you cheated on me!"

His wife's remark almost had him laughing, if not for the distress on her face.

“What? Love, I never would,” he states calmly. “Hush now. It’s a bad dream and nothing more, I assure you.”

"Adrian, I-I..."

And there it is, the sight he dreads the most. Quivering lips, reddened eyes, tears that wouldn't seem to stop. Her sobbing pierces straight through his heart and fills him with the overwhelming need for anything to have it stop, anything to make her feel better.

"Hush now, darling. It was nothing but a bad dream. Come here," he says, arms open to receive her. She glares at him yet again.

“Should I be offended, my love? I would never look another way; surely you know this to be true.” But his words don’t get him anywhere. She wouldn't accept his embrace.

Sigh. "Alright, I won't touch you. But would you tell me, please, darling? So that I may soothe your worries." I hate to see you cry.

"I dreamt that y-you chose someone else over m-me; t-that you l-left me—hic—just like that..."

Oh.

He listens patiently, giving his wife time to let it all out and calm herself.

“You are constantly at the receiving end of confessions after confessions. Letters, presents, barely veiled affection right in front of my eyes, even though we're married!"

It is true, Alucard has to admit. Ever since the establishment of Belmont Village, he had been somewhat popular. There are some that have been, for lack of a better word, persistent despite his martial status.

He nearly cringed. He had an inkling that those incidents bothered her but chose to downplay them in lieu of causing a rift. The idea of ever leaving her had always been ludicrous at best, but he realises now that he should have been doing a much better job of reassuring her. He should have been firmer in rejecting others' advances.

Alucard takes her hands in his, and this time she lets him. “I understand," he says. "I have gotten used to the attention as of late that I…" He shakes his head. "No, there is no excuse. I apologise. I would do better.”

He caresses her cheeks, tenderly wiping away new tears that are threatening to form before they could have the chance to break his heart in pieces.

“I want you to know that their words hold very little weight to me,” he whispers lovingly, staring straight into her eyes as if imploring her to see through him, to view the vastness of his love.

Then, he presses soft kisses just below her eye. “Hush now, sweetheart, please, my lovely wife… It pains me to see you this way.”

If she only knew just how little it takes for her to break his heart in two. Even before she gave herself to him, he’d wanted nobody else. Hearing her crying over something he considers utterly impossible… he should have been doing a much better job of proving himself to her. If anything, he’s disappointed in himself.

It’s only you whose love and affection cause a stomping in my heart, a magnitude of which I have never felt before, he wants to express but couldn’t find the right words to. It's only you whose very voice is enough to lift my spirit. How could I ever hope to replace this feeling? To love another? To abandon you would be akin to losing everything. Everything.

"I have everything I could ever want. I have you."

It is immutable truth. Just as the sun is bright and the nights are dark, I love you. I love you and I am yours.

“There’s only you, darling. I love only you.“

Alucard goes on to reason with her. “Have I ever given you cause to worry? When was the last time?”

When was the last time? He looks at her as if to challenge her. The very notion of him looking another way was almost laughable if his beloved wife wasn’t in agony over it.

“Don’t you make light of my commitment to you,” he tells his wife solemnly. How long has he to live? A thousand years, if not more, yet all of it he wishes to spend with her. It’s almost frightening, truly, the depth of his affection and adoration for this woman. His want—his need—for her runs so deeply it’s enough for him to believe it can transcend lifetimes.

The thought of being somewhere, anywhere, without her is frightening in and of itself. How was he to even ponder it?

“There is not a life in which I would ever abandon you,” he says plain and simple. The surest thing in the world.

“There is only you, my darling wife,” he says pointedly. “In any life, in any place, I would choose you.” In a heartbeat. Always. It’s only fitting, he thinks. For there was nothing before she came into his life.

“I’m sorry…” his wife mumbles, avoiding his eyes, looking adorably like a petulant child ashamed of her blunder. It makes him smile. Silly girl.

“It’s alright, please; you had a valid concern. And I don’t wish for you to misunderstand. I am not angry.” He opens his arms to receive her, to shield her. “Come here to me.”

This time, she tilts her face toward his like a sunflower to the sun, a pleased smile now etching itself onto her mouth. Alucard places a kiss upon it and captures her in his arms. Yours. All yours.

[local-ragamuffin]

Replying to your reblog here.

Yes, start with the smallest idea you have. When I started this fic blog last July, I just wanted to publish that one story I wrote and I happened to try asking people to give me prompts to motivate me to practice writing. I didn’t expect to actually get lots of requests.

Now, I have a couple dialogue lines and POV thoughts in my drafts that don’t even belong to a story yet. They’re simply lines I thought of that I think would sound very good. I’ll either find a request they fit in or write my own thing around them. Don’t let ideas go. Write them. :)

—Alucarddear

Could it be? It is… My first ever ask!! Thank you m8!

I have trouble getting started, as well as writing for characters I didn’t create, which is where the bulk of my problem lies. The idea I have requires me to write for Dracula during the year between Lisa’s death and the beginning of his attack on humanity, which we didn’t really get to see in the show. So on top of my writing anxieties, I have to create my own version of what that year was like.

I’ve never written a fic before, but your advice should help me get the start I need to make something people will love! Thank you, and thanks again for your ask!

[alucarddear]

follow me down a story rabbithole for a sec

alucard inventing sunscreen for his vampire s/o bc all that education has to lead somewhere

in my mind it starts with the reader as a human enjoying their days with lulu basking in the sun but eventually as they age they get turned so they can no longer (yes I was rereading your fic about reader asking to be turned by adrian what about it) and maybe eventually reader and alucard travel some place where the locals use their own form of sun protection (ie real life example: otjize used by Himba ppl of Namibia) like some kind of paste and studies it to find out what about it protects the skin from the sun and making his own paste you can use to finally spend some time in the sun again <3

Sunlight

Alucard creates a sun cream for his vampire lover. 🤍 [She/her]

Note: Hello, I’m back. This hits the spot just enough, I hope. I’ll be working on shorter, simpler requests such as this for now since I am busy. Sol is the fic anon is talking about. Check my masterlist for anything you haven’t read before.

It pains Adrian to watch his beloved stand by the window and peer longingly outside.

Despite her kind insistence that she is fine and he is all she needs—that she knew what it meant to turn—he knows she misses going out in the day. He knows she longs for the things he can still do but their love had taken away from her.

He would pierce the sun and veil it if he could—if it would allow her to be outside where she loved to be. If only.

With single-minded pursuit, Adrian toiled away in his laboratory for months on end to see his darling bask in the sunshine again. She is his sun, after all, the very light of his life. She deserves that much at the very least.

"It does not suit you to be in the shade all day long, my love," he tells her once he has crafted a somewhat effective sun balm.

“This balm is not going to give you immunity to the sun, I’m afraid,” he patiently explains. “And you do need to apply it rather generously.”

Adrian slathers a thick layer of the balm across her cheek as if to prove his point. She scrunches her nose in distaste, but nods all the same.

“But… it should allow you to be outside for even just a couple minutes,” he finally reveals.

At that, her face lit up like the sunlight that she is, squealing with utter joy. She jumps into his arms and peppers him with sweet kisses, smearing the sun balm all over his face in her excitement.

His little concoction stands no chance against prolonged exposure to the sun, no, but it is enough for her to stand out there and feel its warmth for a bit.

The joy that erupted from her fine features as she stepped into the sun for the first time in years was worth every effort, worth all of it and more.

[alucarddear]

Hey there! I'd like to request a drabble were Adrian is in a modern setting, he mets a girl in a club, there's attraction at first sight, they dance together (👁️👄👁️🔥🔥) and end up hooking up (is up to you if you want to make it more spicy!! I'd be glad to read whatever you want to write) (also, would love if he calls her "baby" 😫👌🏻), they keep in touch afterwards and end up together after some dates.

Thank you!!! 🖤

Forest Fire*

She reduces him to this every time; mindless, instinctive, forest fire consuming him all over again.

Alright, let’s do spicy. *CW: smut, smut, and more smut. This is descriptive as hell. Minors DNI. [Modern!Alucard] [She/her]

Special tags @kiatheinsomniac @dahlias-love 🤍

Adrian had found her at the club, of all places. She had on a skimpy little number—a black mini-dress that clung tightly to her body in all the right places. He remembers enjoying the feel of it, the smooth satiny material of it in his fingers.

Even then she was magnetic. Like gravity, they were pulled to each other by waves of sweaty, dancing bodies. Heavy music blasted through gigantic speakers, and through the haze, he was sure an invisible string of sorts pulled him to her or her to him or maybe both all at once, but one thing was for certain—they’d found each other through drunken blur and the mutual attraction was almost instantaneous. He’d never felt that way before.

It was electric when she’d stumbled and her back hit his chest, pure fire when their skin touched. It wasn’t long before they were in each other’s spaces, bodies swaying, writhing, and grinding to the beat of the deafening bass as if nobody else but the two of them existed—the tipsy woman, tiptoed with her arms snaked around his neck; Adrian with his hands lost in her hair, lips slanted against hers.

Eventually, in a move his friends would’ve sworn was uncharacteristic of him, Adrian had invited her over to his home. The entire evening was a once in a blue moon thing for him. The club wasn’t his usual scene, but his good friend Sypha had practically dragged him there only to then end up apologetically leaving him for some guy she met there. Some Trefor, Treffy or something. It was alright with him, they seemed to like each other.

When he had invited the woman in black, he had also wholly expected her to decline. She really looked like she would too, what with the way she bit her bottom lip and appeared to have thought about it despite her inebriation, but somehow—perhaps in a move that was also uncharacteristic of her—she hadn’t. She had said “Sure, why not?” as nonchalantly as she could muster, and soon they’d found themselves tangled once again, in his bed.

Just as they are now.

It’s been three weeks since they started officially dating, four since they met. The fire hasn’t cooled; if anything, it only spread further, passionately consuming anything and everything in its wake. Their every meeting often ends with them wrapped up in each other, melted together in a forest fire, singed yet so alive. And each time, he’s left wanting to play with fire, wanting more.

Adrian draws faint little figures on her bare back with his fingertip, making her shudder. She twists to face him, dragging the covers up her nude body to fight the chill. “Again?” she asks with a sly smirk, flippant.

Hell, he takes it absolutely seriously.

He chuckles at her. “My, how insatiable.” I can’t get enough of you, you sly woman.

“Mmm,” she murmurs against his skin, lips already dragging down his chest, her perilous trajectory sending a wave of heat down his nether region.

But then she stops and shudders again. “Jesus, Adrian, you might as well be undead. How cold is your bedroom?”

It is a little cold, he’ll give her that.

“I might be,” he quips with a smirk, and then he grasps the back of her head, forcing her to look up at him, and his voice goes lower, deeper. “But I can warm you up.”

And just like that the fire is lit again, and then he’s telling her, commanding her, “Keep going.”

She nearly moans at the way he’s rasping his words. How she loves it when he’s domineering.

She’s on him in a second, continuing her slow and sensual trail of kisses down his chest, hands caressing the hard muscles of his abdomen along the way, enjoying the way his breath catches in his throat when her lips reach just above his hardening length. She grasps him then, glancing up at him, and he twitches in both her hands, fully hard now.

She starts with slow, tentative licks up his smooth shaft, maintaining eye contact. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes roll back into his skull at every long flick of her tongue against the head of his cock, at her every slow pump or the way he is gritting his teeth as she begins tentatively taking him in her mouth.

Adrian groans as soon as she starts bobbing up and down halfway through his length; finally, finally increasing her torturous pace. He watches her with heavy-lidded eyes, crimson fire lit behind them, desire deepening in his core. And then she does something, a suck and then a swirl of her tongue? a swipe up? he couldn’t even tell, but it has him grasping her hair hard, moaning her name softly, ordering her to go deeper.

She does as she’s told, swirling her tongue around his head again before taking him fully in her mouth until her lips hit the base of his cock. It’s with some kind of masculine pride that Adrian chuckles darkly at the way she gags a little at her futile attempt to take his entire length all the way.

But it’s starting to feel too good, way too good—“Baby,” he hisses, tugging her hair back, freeing his cock from her mouth with a wet plop, a string of saliva connecting her plump lips to his tip. “Stop; that’s enough,” he pants, sweat starting to collect around his temple.

Adrian takes a minute to recover from his near bliss, and then he’s clenching his jaw and patting the space next to him. “Come here.”

If she only knew how much it’s taking all his willpower not to fuck her then and there.

Not waiting for her to move, Adrian hauls her off his lap and flips her onto her stomach. She would be lying if she said goosebumps didn’t litter her skin at being so blatantly manhandled.

“On your knees,” he almost growls. “Now.”

Tsk. “No, keep your chest down,” he instructs, and she instantly follows. “That’s it; good girl.”

She nearly moans. If she actually had on underwear, her excitement would have had her soaking through it.

He’s behind her next, hauling her ass higher up in the air while keeping her chest down with a heavy hand on her lower back. Then the little minx dares to wiggle her ass at him eagerly, prompting him to smack it red.

“Ah!”

“Impatient girl,” he reprimands her half-heartedly, sending her giggling into his bedsheet, and then he gathers her wetness with two of his fingers, spreading it all over her moistened slit. He’s barely started yet he already has her quivering, moisture nearly dripping out of her, her impatience apparent.

He has the urge to enter her then and there, but he reins himself in. He looks at his handiwork and smirks to himself. “My, look how wet you are for me.”

That’s about the only warning she gets before his tongue is pressing flat against her slit, lapping at her, driving her mad.

He presses his face harder against her pussy, tongue skilfully flicking, lapping and sucking on her throbbing clitoris until he has her squirming, begging for release—“Adrian! Oh! Adrian, please! I’m…!”

Adrian hastily pulls back and replaces his mouth with his thumb, drawing sloppy semi-circles around her swollen nub. He barely lets her breathe before he’s simultaneously plunging his index and middle fingers inside her next, pumping his curled fingers with wild abandon until she’s screaming, until she’s slipping over the edge, creaming all over his fingers, the squelching of her pussy over her desperate moaning sounds like music to his ears. “Oh my god! oh my god!” she cries again and again until she’s trembling all over him.

“That’s it. Good girl, good girl,” he praises her, leaving sweet little kisses on her skin.

Beautiful. She’s beautiful. He could watch her come undone forever.

She’s flat on her stomach by the time she comes down from her high, spent and terribly satisfied. His cock twitches at the sight of her, hair splayed all over his bed, cheek pressed against it, still shuddering from pleasure. It gives him so much satisfaction to know he fucks her so thoroughly each and every time.

He gives her some time to recover before he’s pulling her up against his hard chest with one arm around her full breasts and the other gripping her neck. His hand wound lightly around her throat feels her gasp more than he hears it, and he leans in closer, closer to taste the skin of her nape, nipping and suckling as he rocks his hips against her ass, her dripping cunt coating his cock wet as he slides his hard shaft up and down against her drenched slit. What he would give to just sink into her right now.

She twists around and he meets her halfway to catch her lips with his own, breath hitching in their throats, tongues clashing and dancing against each other. They lock lips and mindlessly grind against each other until Adrian couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he declares, voice dangerously low, his moistened lips whispering against her ear. “Would you like that, baby?”

“Yes!” she nearly screams. “Yes! Please, please, Ad—”

That’s all he needed to hear.

He plunges deep inside her in one fell swoop, sheathing himself to the hilt before she could even finish her begging. And then he stills and stays there, locked together in her warmth, buried deep, sheathed down to his balls, and he savours her wet, velvety heat with a soft hiss. She just about shudders in his arms, gasping at the way he stretches her pussy completely, enjoying the calm before the storm, anticipating the pounding she knows she’s about to receive again.

And then Adrian begins bucking into her heat mercilessly, the one arm around her chest dropping down to her waist to keep her anchored, her back arching against his chest. He tightens his other hand around her neck as he pounds into her pussy, her breasts bouncing freely with his every hard thrust.

The loud slamming of his cock inside her seemingly reverberates around his otherwise quiet room, and he’s all consumed by her again—the sound of her moans, the taste of her skin, the feel and pull of her tight, spasming cunt around his cock as he runts in her like his life depended on it.

And then the heat is unbearable, threatening to erupt again, and he chases it. He pushes her down on her forearms, grabs her by her hips and fucks her roughly until she’s screaming, until she’s writhing, until it’s—too much, it’s too much, Adrian, oh God, don’t you stop—until she is forced to cum for the second time, all but convulsing around him, her pussy contracting and milking him for all he’s got. And then he follows her, panting, sweat dripping, cock stiffening inside her before he squirts deep within her heat, her name falling off his lips.

When he pulls out slowly, he watches his cum pool around her entrance and slowly drip out. He could fuck her all over again just for that.

Fuck.

She reduces him to this every time; mindless, instinctive, forest fire consuming him all over again.

He could get used to this, he realises.

[alucarddear]

Could I request a fic where yandere Alucard’s so starts to suspect that he might be making her sick to keep her dependant on him?

Hummingbird*

He’s learnt by now that wishes never come true, so he chooses to make them happen. Alucard drugs his lover and keeps her locked in his castle. She could never leave him.

[She/her]

*CW for Yandere!Alucard drugging and essentially imprisoning his lover. You asked for it. :p

Temples pounding in sharp, white-hot agony, she grabs onto Alucard's sleeve as he begins retreating, her pained whimper stopping him dead in his tracks. In the next second, he's by her side again.

Concern plainly etched on his features, he assists his lover to a more comfortable sitting position on the settee. "What is it? What's wrong? Another headache?”

You’re going to need your medicine again, aren’t you?

She's hissing in pain again, answering him only with a vague gesture to her temple, upon which cold beads of sweat now start to form.

Tut-tut. "Give me a second, my dear. I'll be quick," he says softly, quietly so as not to worsen her headache, then he props her against a perfectly fluffed pillow. "I'll fetch your medicine quickly."

He returns a minute later, a tray balanced in his hands. He lowers it on the small table next to the settee. Used to his treatments, she automatically sits up a little straighter, expectant. It makes him smile.

"Take this, love," he instructs her, bringing the goblet to her lips gently. "You'll feel better in no time now, no time at all,” he promises, and as always, she gulps it all in one go, hands trembling, weak from exhaustion.

My good, pliant girl. Obedient as ever.

Alucard puts the goblet away and sits right next to her. He guides her head to rest on his shoulder and they snuggle—her, disoriented; him, giddy and content. She’d gulped the sedative again with no questions asked. He hums a little, pleased, fingers combing through her lustrous hair tenderly. If he keeps her pumped full with drugs like this whenever she gets the silly idea of leaving, things will be well again, won't they?

Soon enough, the medicine takes its toll on her. He watches as sleep finally overtakes her, as she slowly slumps against his body, out cold.

Hmm.

It took a couple minutes this time. It seems she’s building a bit of a tolerance to his concoction. He makes a mental note to increase the dose next time. It’s a perfect little thing, truly. It’s a blessing that he’d found the earlier editions of his mother’s textbooks. This particular formulation, before his mother had refined it, can tranquillise a patient in no time indeed. However, many hours upon taking it, it induces agonising headaches that gradually build into disorientation. Enough to render one incapable of the littlest chores, enough to keep one immobile for a while, helpless.

He lays her head on his lap and continues his brushing through her hair, a soft smile plastered on his face.

How I love you, my darling. If only you could see that.

He observes as she whimpers in her sleep, face contorted in apparent displeasure. Wracked with a dream, perhaps? A bad one? Well, no matter, she gets to stay in it for now.

You've made your bed. Now lie in it.

He picks up a single piece of fallen eyelash off the soft skin of her cheek and rolls it in his fingers. If he were any other man, he'd have placed it on the back of his hand then brought it to his lips to blow it away, wishing for her to stay. But he's learnt by now that wishes never come true. He chooses to make them happen. He wipes her fallen lash on the hem of his shirt. She could never leave him. If he had to cage her like a bird, he would. If she behaves herself, he may even let her out once in a while.

It really shouldn’t be this difficult anyway. Not at all. If only she’d stop with her talks about going outside. About travelling or exploring or taking some time to go and be with her family. What for? What good would it do?

She'd already sworn herself to him long ago, whether she knew it or not. She needs to commit fully, like he had, like he continues to do. Her place is right here, with him, in his castle. Nowhere else. Allowing his lover to entertain ideas of moving, of going places… it wouldn’t do. He’d made that mistake before with his previous companions, and look what became of them, what he had to do.

It wouldn’t, it couldn’t happen to his sweetheart. It’s just a couple more weeks, perhaps, until she’s convinced that she’s too sick, too fragile to do much travelling or venture outside. Until she understands that she cannot be without him, without his support and guidance and care and... love.

Just a little more… and then no more pain, my love. This is for your own good.

Alucard hums a cheerful tune to himself, content. Her brows crinkle in her sleep. The thudding of heavy bolts clicking shut echoes in the quiet halls.

The next day, another headache looms in the back of her head, threatening to come on in full force again, just as it did the day before, and the day before that. She gasps at the realisation that it happens around roughly the same hour of the day each time, as if it’s on a schedule, as if manufactured. It has her reeling, grasping at her head. And as always, like clockwork, he’s by her side, medicine in hand, offering it up to her lips.

"It looks like it's time for your—"

"No!" she suddenly shrieks at him, eyes squinted.

Alucard's blood runs colder. Her racing heartbeat caws at him, pulsing in his ears. Is she truly defying him now? Doubting him?

He releases a shaky, shuddering breath and tries again—calmly now, softly now, there is no need to frighten her—"Darling, hush now and take your—"

She swats the goblet off of his hands, sending it hurtling in the air. It clatters noisily on the floor, spilling its contents.

Alucard takes another deep breath, closing his eyes, willing himself to be patient. He counts to three. When next he opens them, he's composed again. "No matter,” he murmurs, voice perfectly modulated despite the disgruntled look about his face or the scowl threatening to erupt from his mouth. “I'll go and get another. You sit there and wait."

"No!" she screams again, stepping back, away from him. "What's in it first, Alucard?! Tell me!”

Her heartbeat thudthudthuds in his head even louder now, like a beating drum that needs to stop. Why is she so angry now? She needs to fucking stop and take her medicine at once or else the headache will go away on its own and it will ruin everything he worked for! Everything!

He grits his teeth and advances towards her, grasping her by her arms, patience wearing thin. Before he has a chance to compose himself, his words are coming out hot, voice raised, mouth snarling. "It's for your own good!"

His volume makes her flinch. He’d never yelled at her before. He’d only ever been soft, kind, sweet. Who is this man in front of her? What exactly is going on?

His outburst hints at her something. He’s never been very good at lying. Why can’t he answer a simple question now?

Moisture starts gathering in the corners of her eyes. "What? What are you…? For my own good?! I’m only asking you what’s in it. What’s in—”

She gasps then, as acute suspicion hits her fully. “What have you been feeding me? Are... are you... are you imprisoning me? Are you—"

Suddenly, things click into place. The way he bolts the castle doors shut with a heavy mechanism she cannot undo by herself. The way he doesn’t allow her to go venturing out on her own, the way his eyes trail her every movement. How he shuts down any conversation about her going anywhere—anywhere but any room in his dark and desolate castle!

She trembles, seemingly shrinking into herself, flinching away from him.

He runs his thumb underneath her eye then, wiping at the tear that managed to escape, ignoring the way she’s paralysed with fear, the way it’s caused by him. He has the urge to lick away her tears, but settles for kissing her softly on her quivering mouth instead.

Somehow, it’s calming. Despite the truth exploding in his face, he feels …serene almost. There’s no point in hiding now, is there?

“You’re mine, in case you forgot,” he tells her, matter of fact, breath ghosting over her lips. “From the moment you told me you would stay and keep me company, I’ve been yours and you’ve been mine.”

As if to confirm his statement, the bolts of his heavy doors slowly start thudding into place one by one again, locked through his magic, shutting them out to the rest of the world. The silence that follows is deafening.

He smiles a toothy grin at her, his fangs a dark reminder of just who she’d sealed her fate with.

She’s sobbing now, crumpling down, and he catches her tenderly in his arms, shushing her, cooing at her. His little hummingbird.

She’ll come to realise soon that struggling is futile, won’t she? She belongs with him. They will be together forever. She will be his bride. One day, this castle will be populated full of her children, sired by him. Merry laughter will fill the air and he will never be alone again.

Love is a beautiful thing, is it not?

[alucarddear]

Ideas fluff scenario of s/o helping an insomniac Alucard (also maybe retain his personality in S4E1) to sleep.

Saving Souls*

Each time he has an episode, you wonder if you can love all the pain away, if one day it will be enough.

[Alucard x You] Combining two related requests in one: nightmare and insomnia. I got quite a lot of sleep-related requests from you guys. I hope you're all sleeping well lol, I certainly am not.

P.S. it’s a bit sad though—not exactly fluffy, but full of love all the same. *CW for panic attack.

Alucard may have survived all the trials and tribulations that the cruel Gods had sent his way, but he certainly hadn’t made it out unscathed.

To this day, sleep comes to him rarely. Whenever it does, he is able to have a peaceful rest in your arms, but there are times when that peace is disturbed and his elusive sleep is accompanied by unpleasant dreams.

And now, it is happening again. He is writhing in bed, his forehead glossy with cold sweat. His tossing and turning even woke you up from your own slumber. Tonight, it seems, will be yet another one of those nightmare-induced sleepless nights.

You sigh, feeling sorry for the dhampir. If not for you being in his life, you are quite sure he would have long ago shut himself in his coffin, forced to a dreamless sleep for hundreds of years.

You watch your lover's brows knit, grumbling and twitching in his sleep. About to wake him, you stop for a moment to reconsider. He hasn't had a good sleep in at least three days. Will this one come to pass?

It doesn't, and he makes a noise, a whimper, so disturbing it couldn't have come from anything but a distressing dream.

“Adrian,” you shake him gently, thinking it best to wake him. “Love, wake up.”

He startles, sitting up with a choked-up gasp. His eyes are cloudy, almost incognisant. Immediately, he begins feeling around him, searching for something. Searching for you, you realise.

You sigh, reaching out to grasp him gently on his arms. “Adrian, it’s me,” you tell him. “It’s okay.”

He looks at you—through you—panting, eyes wide, moisture gathering in them. The sight of him stills your heart.

As soon as he sees you though, he’s gathering you in his arms, tears falling. “I—I…”

“It’s alright, Adrian. It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re okay,” you tell him over and over like a mantra, pacifying him with each stroke of your hand on his hair and each kiss upon his face.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he chokes out suddenly, sobbing into your bosom, grasping you tightly against him. “You—I thought I’d…!”

Oh, my love.

“I’m okay, I am fine,” you try to soothe him, voice soft and calm, mollifying his worries. You lift his chin up, meeting his blurred gaze. “I’m right here, you see? Just breathe for me, please, Adrian. Deep breaths.”

He nods vigorously, trembling in your arms, regulating his breathing, just the way you’d taught him before. “You are. You are,” he repeats to himself, a shaky sigh of relief escaping his lungs.

“But—I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I thought I’d killed you. I can’t feel my limbs. I thought I’d…” He rambles, breaths coming out of him in a ragged manner. “I choked you. Darling, I watched you die!” His voice breaks. “I did it myself. Instead of my father, I—”

With a firmer, sterner voice, you tell him, “It wasn’t real. Alright? Let’s breathe again. Please, Adrian.”

It’s not real. It’s not real. It will never be real, you repeat to yourself even as goosebumps littered your skin.

Adrian, still shaky from his disturbing nightmare, has trouble coping with his hyperventilation. You notice him slipping away, his eyes hazy. There, but not really there.

You grasp him by his shoulders then, giving him a firm shake, hoping it grounds him, keeps him sane. “You would never hurt me. You could never do that to me, my love. Look, just look how much you’re quivering just from the thought.”

He crushes you against him, nodding, holding onto you, pulling you closer as if you were going to disappear on him.

Inhale…. exhale.

Inhale…. exhale.

Inhale…. exhale.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” your voice cracks despite your attempt to subdue yourself. “I’m so sorry, Adrian.”

I wish I could do something. I wish I could make it go away. I would take your horrors away, dream your nightmares for you, trade our dreams to give you peaceful sleep, Hypnos be damned.

It is always difficult to see him this way. For him to think, even just subconsciously, of himself as such a monster so as to hurt his beloved… it tears you apart. It makes you angry.

He’s never truly completely forgiven himself for his patricide. It was a necessary evil, he’d told you once. Yet how it shattered his heart. How it continues to do so now. How the act of it still seeps into everything, tarring it all black. All that is left of him.

Each time he has an episode, you wonder if you can love all the pain away. If one day it will be enough. If only saving souls could be as easy as it is to love Adrian.

And you love him, Gods, you do—you love him just as he is. Lonely as he is. Broken as he is. Afraid as he is. Hopeful as he is. The beautiful and kind and gentle, still hurting soul that he is.

Just as he is, and all that he will be.

“I would never hurt you,” he tells you then, promises you—promises himself—eyes boring into your very soul and breaking your reverie. “I love you,” he whispers, leaning closer, forehead pressing against yours, calmer, better. “You are the one I love the most. I could never lose you.”

It will never come true. It will never come true.

“I know, I know. I love you too,” you tell him, hot tears falling onto his lap. “I will always love you.”

And I will always be here.

His breathing’s less erratic now. “Better?” you ask him after a moment, cupping his face into your warm hands.

“Yes. Yes, my angel,” he whispers, a reassuring smile on his face, wiping the moisture away from your cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you for being here.”

“Always.”

You cry in each other’s arms.

Sometimes, it’s all you could do, and tonight, you realise that that’s okay.

[alucarddear]

Hello! I love your work!

May I please request something?

I was wondering if Adrian would ever have angry sex (not painful or maybe not even directed at you/reader but just frustration steam) and what that would be like?

And if not, may I ask the question for jealousy? I saw your HC and it made me curious if it'd ever get a little more intense.

A Pretty Picture*

A stranger foolishly tried to woo his lover, so Alucard decided to show him just whose name she would be screaming tonight.

Note: *NOT sfw. Foreplay. [She/her]

I mean, why not both? What have you all done to me? Anyways, have fun.

Not quite angry—think possessive, needy, desperate. I attempted a picture of what leads up to a pretty intense night probably. I had to stop there, it seemed like the right moment. You can maybe follow this up with Mine, if I blue-balled you. I hope I did justice to your wild imaginings, anon!

Thoughts? Violent reactions? Haha.

The lovers are back in their room at the inn now. She’d squeezed Adrian’s hands tightly and just about shoved the strange man out of the pub herself. It was probably for his own good, otherwise he might’ve been acquainted with Adrian’s fists or worse. The thought of meeting the dhampir’s magical sword is likely enough to make any luckless casanova shiver.

He is still fuming, that much is obvious. But why is her heart hammering? It’s not as if she did anything wrong.

“Adrian, calm down,” she says with a firm voice and an even firmer conscience. She touches his arm, and then starts explaining that she didn’t—

“Oh, it’s not you, darling, no,” he interjects, saving her from needlessly apologising for or explaining something she didn’t do. He saw what had happened. “I shouldn’t have left you for even just a minute.” This place reeks of ruffians.

“It’s alright,” she reassures him, smiling. “I’m alright. You worry too much. I took care of it, didn’t I?”

Yes, yes, his darling did. Far more admirably than he would’ve—should’ve.

They’d been travelling. He’d gone to book them a room at the nearby inn before it was too late. Meanwhile, she’d waited and ordered their drinks at the bar. When he returned, he saw that rat bastard make advances and place his unwelcome hands on his beloved, unsettling her, and the next thing he knew, he was seeing red, and then she had driven the man away herself.

Adrian shakes the thought out of his head.

It will not do to dwell on it, the more rational part of him wants to say, yet another is flooding his head with alarms and reminders that—She’s mine, she’s mine, she’s mine. How dare he?

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and closes his eyes. When next he opens them, an uncharacteristic smirk forms on his lips and he zeroes in on his lover, advancing towards her so very slowly, stopping just as her back hits the inn’s flimsy bedroom wall.

Adrian knows just what he wants, what he needs right now. Respite in the form of his favourite human, as well as some reminding that she is his, and his alone.

She is looking up at him, brows slightly furrowed, perhaps wondering what is going on in his head. She, whose smiles and little laughs fill his heart with glee. She, who’d promised herself to him long ago. His. All soft-skinned, lovely-eyed and warm, so very warm, always so pliant in his hands.

My girl, if you only knew.

Well…

“I want to fuck you,” he tells her bluntly, matter-of-fact, and then something desperate flashes through him. “I need to,” he corrects himself, instantly sending a blush to her face and an unexpected jolt of desire through her core.

She whispers her yes a little too fast, a little too soft for his liking.

“Are you certain? I won’t be able to stop myself,” he warns her.

He watches her gulp but nod again, sees her cheeks flood with colour at his crudeness yet her eyes twinkle with excitement, sees the way her knees got a little weak, and he smiles a toothy smile at her. My love. What precious little girl.

He runs a thumb across her bottom lip and gently prods her mouth open with it. She is blushing furiously, his silly girl, yet she accepts his finger readily, the tip of her tongue making the grave mistake of tentatively lapping at his thumb. It has his cock stiffening and twitching at the sensation, a needy groan nearly escaping his lips.

He picks her up then—scalding, urgent hands hoisting her up by her thighs. The intensity of his look might’ve had her knees weak with want, had her sliding down to the floor if not for his hot grip on her.

He’s angry, he’s jealous, and she really shouldn’t feel so... but damn it, he is so attractive to her right now, the way he wants her so badly she could shudder.

He’s staring at her, imploring her with such want, such need that she could never say no to. She really shouldn’t encourage him, really should calm him down, but his throbbing cock is hard and hot and already rubbing against her so tantalisingly, she just—

“Please,” she croaks at him, begging. “Please do.”

Uh-uh. He shakes his head a little.

“Please what?” he asks, index finger lifted as if to reprimand her. Say it. Say it.

“Please f-fuck me,” she just about whimpers.

Shit.

"Good girl.”

Adrian doesn’t need to be told twice. 

He growls, grinding his hips, the delicious friction forcing a breathy sob out of her lips that he promptly hushes with his own. He tastes sweet, sweet wine on his lover’s tongue, and his grip on her thighs tighten as he pushes off the wall, hands sliding up her buttocks—squeezing, kneading.

They head straight for the nondescript room’s equally nondescript bed. No matter, he thinks. She will make a pretty picture lying naked in it.

He’ll show that foolish man just whose name this pretty lady would be screaming tonight.

She’s sprawled in bed now, hair splayed on the soft, white pillows. “Adrian,” she mewls impatiently, thighs rubbing together.

Tut-tut. “Patience, my girl,” he admonishes her and then forgets about it entirely the very next second as he pushes the hem of her dress up and forces her thighs apart, fingers impatiently shoving her panties aside.

“Look at you,” he goads, smirking at her, fingers already collecting some of her wetness to rub slow circles on her clit. “So wet for me.”

“Adrian,” she gasps, “Adrian, please, please—”

He doesn’t give her a warning as he plunges one, two, three long fingers down to his knuckles into her tight pussy. He gradually increases his pace, curling his fingers inside her, stretching and preparing her to take his engorged cock well.

It’s not long before she is coming undone on his fingers, grasping at anything and everything for purchase. She begs him to stop, yet cries for him to fuck her harder. He holds her down to dampen her squirming and pumps into her until her eyes start collecting tears, until she’s pitifully sobbing his name, completely at the mercy of her dhampir. Soon, she is panting and trembling, utterly spent, yet he is only getting started.

Adrian licks at three of his fingers, tasting her, watching his sweat-slicked lover catch her breath, still shuddering and weak. As soon as he kneels on the bed to take her, she’s meeting him halfway in a desperate kiss—not quite chaste, yet not quite a battle, not one she’s winning tonight anyway. A surrender.

They cling to each other, desperately grasping, pulling at each other’s clothing, nipping. Him, undoing his trousers; her, sucking her salt off his tongue.

When they break apart for air, she attempts to pleasure him back, reaching for his hard cock, but he gently slaps her hand away.

“No, my dear. This is about you. Tonight is all for you,” he tells her.

You’re mine. You’re mine and I’m going to show you just what it means to be mine.

[alucarddear]

our most beloved Adrian comforting his s/o while she's going through hard times?? by hard times i mean just in general. like when she's experiencing period cramps. or doesn't have an appetite bc she's sick. that sort of stuff☁️

Fever

Alucard cares for his human lover who has a fever.

Note: [She/her]. Aww. I think he will really fuss over her when she’s sick. Here’s a short little moment. :)

“Darling, how are you feeling now?” Adrian asks, checking her temperature for what must have been the twentieth time in just the past hour.

She sighs and grabs his cold hand away from her forehead. “Fevers take some time, you know. I’ll be alright.”

She gives his hand a light squeeze, grip weak but comforting all the same. She is fire against his cold skin.

A light blush colours his cheeks. He wouldn’t know from experience. He’s never had a fever before. It’s just another benefit of being a dhampir, he supposes, but he feels absolutely useless to her right now.

His mother used to get them, but she was a doctor who knew what she was doing even when sick, so it didn’t worry him too much. His father had been around too, and he knew even more. His beloved, on the other hand… She doesn’t seem too concerned, but she has been indisposed for three days now, and her appetite is barely there. Even his cooking doesn’t do the trick, so Adrian found his mother’s old textbooks and perused some of them. The common idea seems to be that a fever could last all week, so of course he is worried.

My poor darling…

Regardless, he’s determined to make it a very comfortable week for his beloved.

“Do your limbs hurt at all? See, there is a portion here,” he points to a page on the textbook, “It says muscle aches are common. Would you like a massage?” He goes on, listing each symptom that worries him, asking if she is feeling them, wondering what can be done to help ease her pains.

Adrian’s lips are pursed in concentration, eyes moving across the pages of the hefty medical text. His fingertip follows each line in total immersion, eyebrows occasionally lifting when he sees something interesting that may be of use.

The sight of him needlessly worrying over her makes her giggle, makes her wonder if the warmth she feels spreading in her stomach is even her fever at all. Perhaps the tingly sensation she’s now feeling is a pleasant shiver from being loved so thoroughly.

Before she realises it, she’s voicing her thoughts out loud. “How lovely it is to be loved and taken care of by someone as sweet as you.” I’m so lucky.

Adrian is astonished. And then warmth blazes all across his chest at her words, matching the flaring of her cheeks.

He wonders if fevers could ever feel as warm as the burning in his heart.

[alucarddear]

im loving the hc😗 i wonder how adrian acts when hes mad at “you” or reader? maybe fights about you investigating too much to his life

Angry!Adrian

Note: [You] Argument HCs with Adrian. Plus a little flashback drabble cause I can’t help myself, I like drama.

He usually has a lot of patience, but there are times when arguments do happen, as they tend to do with any couple. Even he has limits.

Rather than explosive anger though, he seethes with cold fury. It’s a lot more frightening. Even the room feels colder with him in it.

Don’t push him, really, don’t. 😬

He gets quiet, eerily quiet. You know he’s angry when his volume is even lower than usual—his voice is deep, almost emotionless. It’s different, colder than the usual soft voice he uses around/for you. He may even get a little sarcastic with you.

His body language is stiff, twitchy even, like an agitated cat. You know he’s uncomfortable, the way he keeps walking about, the way he tries to diffuse his anger by occupying himself with mundane activities. Only, they don’t always work.

His expression hardens. His jaw clenches, as if he’s trying his best to restrain himself from saying anything that could hurt you. He would never hurt you physically, but you know how cutting his words can get.

He is likely to attempt leaving or putting off the situation before it gets out of hand. He prefers having space, some quiet time to get his thoughts in order. But if pursued or cornered, he might snap.

In the rare instance that he snaps, that’s when he actually raises his voice, and it’s enough to scare anybody, including you.

The first time he snapped at you went a little something like this:

“Adrian, come back! We’re not finished,” you huffed indignantly, hurrying after his retreating form.

“Are you trying your hardest to vex me?” he turned around and snapped at you that one time, voice raised, cornering you against the wall.

Unaware of how badly he needed space, you’d made the mistake of tailing him and throwing questions after questions at him when he wasn’t quite ready for discussion. To you, the way he upped and left had been rude. But you realised belatedly that he had only been trying to protect you. That he needed time away to reflect and calm himself.

He towered over you as he backed you against the wall. His eyes were not the warm honey hue you knew them to be for his temper had coloured them scarlet. Adrian stared you down, leaving you utterly speechless, and for the first time, rattled by him.

“Well?” He hissed, fangs in clear view, leering at you.

He’d never raised his voice like this before, and you’d never seen him direct so much anger at you. Your lips started to quiver and your chest heaved. But as soon as the first droplets of tears escaped your eyes, he drew back with a gasp as if burnt by a consecrated whip.

“Fuck,” he cursed softly, regretfully, his face contorting with what looked like pain. His trembling hands then came up to touch you, so very slowly, as if afraid you would cower or flinch away from him, giving you plenty of time to push him away if you wanted to. You didn’t. You saw the concern plainly written on his face even through the blurry haze of tears in your eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised you, voice whispery and tinged with unmistakeable sorrow. “I am truly sorry, my beloved,” he said, grasping you by your shoulders. “I’m never—darling, I could never hurt you. I’m sorry.”

You believed him. You knew he would never. You hadn’t even meant to cry. You were simply startled, taken aback. You’d never pushed him this far before. It was your mistake to pursue rather than give him the space he needed.

You let him crush you against his chest, let him brush the hair away from your temple and kiss you tenderly there.

“Shh,” he murmured against the top of your head, cradling your trembling body in his strong arms. “Forgive me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated over and over until you calmed down.

When you’d calmed down sufficiently, he sat you down and held your hand. “I’m sorry,” he apologised for what must have been the hundredth time. “But please, my love, understand that I need to be by myself. Please, let me go and brood somewhere else when I’m angry.” I’ll always come back to you. You don’t have to see me this way.

You nodded, fully understanding. “I’m sorry, Adrian,” you said, eyes glued to the ground. “It’s not going to happen again. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, don’t be,” he cut you off, bringing you closer to place a kiss upon your lips.

“Look at me,” he said. “I never want to see you cry. Never.”

It hurt him more than anything to see you cry.

[alucarddear]

Headcanon for s/o helping a drunk, depressed (S4E1) Alucard?

Her

He may have nursed her back to full health, but it was she who saved him.

Note: It’s a cute request so I turned it into a drabble of sorts, hope you don’t mind. Let me know what you think! [She/her]

This is also dedicated to the anon who requested Alucard asking s/o to call him Adrian.

It was she who arrived at Alucard’s doorstep. Half-on and half-off her equally weary horse. Eyes half-closed, mouth half-open (in protest? to plead? he couldn’t tell). She was, much like everything around his castle, half-dead.

She came with no letters, no explanations. Only words that barely formed and sounds that didn’t quite resonate.

Alucard had been out simply to take a piss on the pikes outside his home—on the very bones that had reduced him to the pathetic, drunken state he usually was lately. But it seemed fate brought to him yet another human in need of his perilous mercy.

Not my problem, he thought.

He meant to walk away entirely, but the dying woman’s horse wouldn’t stop whining and the gurgly rasp of her desperate “Please,” stopped him dead in his tracks.

He groaned in consternation. And again—for the last time, this time, he thought—he found himself breaking through his self-imposed prison of loneliness. He helped yet another human and let her in.

He hasn’t been the same since.

She, it turns out, is the missing piece.

He may have nursed her back to full health and saved her life, but it was she who brought colours back into his dreary life. She who resurrected him, breathed life into him. She who brought him back from hell.

His was a life half-lived until her.

Since her, the grounds of his castle have brightened up significantly.

Rather than the lying echoes of the two long-gone, long-dead pairs of footsteps along his halls, there’s her. Her skipping, her merry laughter, her singing and humming.

Rather than the ghost of his past, he dreams of her smiles. Her, sitting in her corner, knitting. He wouldn’t mind the image for the rest of his life. It’s not long before he’s falling head over heels for her and asking her to stay.

“With me,” he slurs.

She raises her brow at him, silently willing him to continue his proposition.

“For eternity, my dear,” he adds, his explanation without humour despite his hiccuping, inebriated presentation.

He’s drunk again.

“Alucard,” she sighs, gently prying the goblet from his cold hands. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Call me Adrian.”

“Bed,” she cuts him off, sternly this time, and he frowns (pouts) at her and makes no move.

“Adrian.”

He smiles.

He tuts in protest, despite the soft smile on his face. But he lets her sling his arm around her anyway, lets her guide him back into his room, lets her burrow her way further into his heart.

“My dear—” he starts, as she tucks him into his bed.

But she reminds him softly, quietly into the night, “I am not your anything, Adrian.”

“You could be,” he says lightheartedly, the smartass. “Easy enough.”

“It’s the wine talking,” she says with a frown, and he sees in her eyes an alarming disbelief, begging him to rescind his teasing. This silly woman is not taking him seriously.

He sighs. He pulls her by her wrist, miscalculating his freakish strength, sending her tumbling on top of him with a yelp.

“Sorry.”

“A-Adrian,” she squirms in his arms, blushing heavily.

“Listen,” he says with all the seriousness he can muster. He brushes his hand through her hair, tenderly, softly. “I mean it.”

Her breath catches in her throat. The heavy silence hangs in the quiet night, making him nervous, making him nearly lose his confidence, until she responds with a hushed “Okay.”

He releases the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Okay? Okay… you’ll stay? With me?” he asks, hopeful, peering into her eyes, imploring her, adoring her into agreement.

She nods, cupping his cheek, caressing it. “But we’ll discuss it come morning. When you’re sober.”

“I will be,” he interjects quickly, sitting up. She plops in his lap and he wraps his arms around her waist to steady her.

“I will be,” he repeats his promise.

No, that’s not enough for his dearest sunshine. Better yet—“I’ll stop drinking entirely.”

For you.

If it’ll have you stay.

I’ll empty cartfuls of wine, all the wine in the world, down the drain if it’ll make you mine.

“Tomorrow, Adrian,” she says, smiling. Tears well up in her eyes despite herself, but he worries not for he knows they are borne out of joy. His heart swells at the thought of miserable him bringing sweet, happy tears to her eyes.

He wipes her tears away with a kiss to each of her lids, shushing her softly, and holds her in his arms.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he whispers.

“Always.”

He captures her lips in a searing kiss.

[alucarddear]

can i have a first kiss scenario with our darling prince?

Of Hugs and Kisses

You find it is true that a kiss shared between true lovers is indeed every bit as sweet, every bit as pure as the stories tell.

My attempt at reader’s thoughts on their first kiss with Alucard. 🤍 [Alucard x You]

It was as if on cue.

You could have sworn some magnetic force had finally pulled you both closer and closer until you were grasping at each other for purchase, until your mouths were on a clear trajectory, faces destined to morph as one.

Adrian’s hands—the very same you’ve always known to be gentle as feathers were even gentler still yet also so utterly, violently desperate as they slid up your waist to grasp at your face; one hand on the back of your head—your hair tangled in his fingers—the other on the underside of your jaw, thumb wiping back and forth against your flushed skin.

And then he pulled you even closer to his body and kept you there, stilling you against him, keeping you upright the way your wobbly legs couldn’t as you tried your best to reach his height, standing on the tips of your toes.

You wonder now if he’d heard the beating, the outright screaming of your heart then. You wonder if he knew that from the moment your lips greeted his for the first time, it will always wish to again. That he’d imprinted himself in each and every chamber of your heart, that every beat of it thereafter came only with thoughts of him. That it had never been before and will never feel so full again.

You suppose there is, after all, some truth to the rumours, and there is some merit to the titillating stories that are passed down from friend to friend, no matter where in the world. To the various famous tales told of starstruck lovers that the best theatres sell out tickets and fill out rows after rows of seats about, that people from all walks of life gather round to witness night after night in all the grand cities of all the grand places of the world.

You find it is true that a kiss shared between true lovers is indeed every bit as sweet, every bit as pure as the stories tell, as you always hoped for. But it wasn’t only an explosion of butterflies like you’d heard, no—

You’d broken apart when he first told you that he loved you all along, but was too afraid to act on it. When he wrapped his arms around you and told you he was sorry to keep you waiting, you were whole again. And when your lips finally met, it did so in a tidal wave that washed away any and every thought from your head save for one, enduring—I love you. I love you. I love you.

And the echoes of it hasn’t stopped since.

As it was happening, you were drowned in each other's embrace, lips locked as if they've always been. And when it got a little too much and you had to part, the severance hit you with such dreadful awe that you never wanted to come up for air again.

Yes, you’ve heard all the stories, but they fall short each and every time Adrian kisses you.

[alucarddear]

Instead of period smut how about some period fluff. Maybe y/n wakes up to find that her period had started and she accidentally made a mess on there shared bed and she’s super embarrassed.

A Little Accident

Her bleeding accident leads to offering herself up to her dhampir.

Note: You guys 😫 you really find ways to make me write about period huh. Period smut is still not gonna happen, but it’s funny that we’re negotiating period blood here. 🤣 So here, I took it in a different direction than what some of you want. Enjoy!

[She/her] Contains mentions of period blood and Adrian feeding on her. Fluff mostly! She bleeds, gets embarrassed, gets comforted, then—bonus—gets fed on FROM THE NECK lol. 🤍

“Alright, that’s enough,” Adrian chuckles as he pulls away, lips ghosting over hers. “Or we’ll never get out of bed.”

She receives one last peck before Adrian begins getting up and stretching a little, a hand coming up to stifle his short yawn.

It’s breakfast time. As much as she’d like to stay in bed and cuddle, dallying about will make them late for training, and she really doesn’t want that. After all, today’s practice will be all about tracking and hunting, which means her boyfriend will likely be showing her his wolf form!

She sits up, actually quite eager to start the day, and that’s when she feels it—she’s slightly damp and sticky down there. And when she looks down…

Oh, no. Is that…?

Just her luck. It appears she’d started bleeding in her sleep, and now there’s blood on the bed she shares with her dhampir, the dark red blotch stark against the white sheets.

She nearly shrieks, stopping Adrian in his tracks, and then she hastily covers the stain, slapping a hand over it on the mattress. He blinks at her in silent question and waits for her to catch up.

“Sorry, uhm, I’ll…” she clears her throat, pulse quickening a little. “Pancakes! Can you make me some pancakes, please? I’ll follow you down shortly.”

Why are you so twitchy? Stop being weird! It’s just a little stain.

She’s usually much better about tracking and predicting her menstruation, usually wearing her paddings even two days or so before she starts bleeding, but it looks like her cycle got the better of her this time around or she’d simply miscalculated. Now there’s blood stains on their shared bed.

This is so embarrassing!

She notices his eyes shift downward so she hurries him a little, gesturing unnecessarily with her hands to draw his gaze back up. “Pancakes, love? Please?”

His mouth purses. “Is everything fine?” And then he looks pointedly at the hand she’s covering her stain with and his mouth forms a little o shape, nodding in understanding.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs softly, a kind smile starting to form on his lips. “This is nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s fine; it happens. Why don’t you clean up first and then we’ll deal with the sheets later?” Besides, she makes better pancakes anyway…

“You—you know?” she all but squeaks.

“Of course I know,” he shrugs. “I’ve known the whole time, but I didn’t want to disturb your sleep.”

Oh, god. Of course he does! It’s still blood. He probably smelt it. The thought has her cheeks blooming in a rosey hue, hands coming up to cradle the heat in them.

“I hope it wasn’t too disgusting. Sorry,” she mumbles, sheepish.

“Disgusting?” he wants to laugh. Adrian pulls her towards him gently, hands rubbing up and down her upper arms reassuringly. “No, my love. You worry too much. And you forget that you’re talking to a part vampire. Maybe it’s not tantalising like fresh blood, no, but blood is still blood.” And now it’s his turn to blush.

“If anything, it gave me the urge to drink from you,” he admits, eyes quickly flitting to the vein on her neck where fresh, saccharine blood no doubt flows then back up to her eyes, and he watches her gasp, moist lips parting in surprise.

Adrian drags a hand through her silky tresses and leans in to capture her mouth in his in a tender kiss, fangs scraping against her bottom lip a little, making her shudder. And then he pulls back and tells her to just forget about it and—

“You can, if you’d like,” she cuts him off, absolutely entranced.

Her invitation has him nearly flinching away from her in shock, but she stills him with both hands fisted in his shirt.

I will not take advantage of you. Adrian shakes his head. “No, I couldn’t possibly—”

“I want you to.”

His senses tingle despite himself. The temptation has him gulping, clenching his hands in anticipation, but he decides still to reason with her. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re asking me to feed on you.”

“I do, and I am. Please? I trust you, Adrian.”

She doesn’t know what came over her just now, only that it feels… right, good, as if his fulfilment will please her too.

Her dhampir looks different now, she realises then. There is clear hunger in him. She sees it in the way his pupils have blown, in the fire in them, in the way he is licking at his lips, eyes zeroed in on her throat. He wants her and he can barely control himself, but God does he try.

Yet, she feels no fear. She wants it just as bad, if not even more. Just a little taste.

“I want you to have me.”

He shudders then, a needy groan—a whimper—escaping his lips, and then his fangs are extending, and he’s drawing her closer to him, caging her safely in his arms as if he isn’t just about to suck her life away. Like she hasn’t just placed it right in his hands.

He brushes her hair away from her shoulder and he places a soft kiss upon the skin there before he grasps the back of her head and pulls a little. In the next instant, Adrian is sinking his fangs into the flesh of her throat.

She gasps, unexpected pleasure spreading throughout her body in subtle tingles throughout her skin as her blood drains so very slowly into her lover’s mouth. His vice grip on her is the only thing keeping her upright.

In this moment, she’s in his hands completely. He can drain her of her blood and have her perish if he so wished, yet she feels oddly at peace. She realises then that she’s truly his—mind, body, soul. His completely. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

[alucarddear]

Moonlight

Alucard’s musings as he watches his lover in the moonlight.

Note: Soft 💯. Pining 💯. Not quite sexy dhampir but I hope you enjoy.

Request:

He gathers his sweetheart in his arms, careful not to rouse her. It’s early morning or late night, he cannot tell, but the sun hasn’t broken through yet. The moonlight shines so beautifully, casting an ethereal glow to the woman in his embrace.

Alucard thinks he can easily spend an eternity like this, watching her sleep. Times like this, he can forget. Forget he’d ever harmed somebody or been harmed by another. Forget he’d ever felt an ounce of suffering in his life, of loneliness. It’s times like this that he wishes he was clean enough to be guaranteed a spot next to her for the rest of their lives, to be worthy of it. But he knows he couldn’t possibly deserve whatever paradise awaited his beloved in the plains beyond. So he’ll take what he can get in the here and now. All of it. All of her, like the selfish being he knows himself to be.

Her eyelids flutter, brows furrowing, halting his fingers combing through her silken hair. And then she is scooting even closer—her soft, bare body burrowing further into his, their limbs tangling as if on a mission to morph into one. Alucard chuckles.

Under the moonlight, he realises that he would move mountains for her without a second thought if she had asked him to. If she willed it, he would make the Heavens tremble.

She awakens, squinting up at him. “Hmm?” she hums low in her throat. Her sleep-speak for “Why are you up?” he guesses.

Why, admiring you.

Falling deeper in love with you.

Working on deserving you.

“I must have done something exceptional that I get to have you, my love,” he quietly mumbles against her temple. She half-yawns, barely awake to register his musings. It brings another smile onto his face. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

“Go back to sleep, my moonlight.”

[alucarddear]

may i have a nice moment with comparing hand sizes with our precious sunshine prince? thank you!

Inferno

Comparing hand sizes with Alucard.

Note: [She/her] It threatened to go in a deranged direction real quick right off the bat so I had to steer away and end it very lightly and playfully. Enjoy!

She adores the way her dhampir holds her, touches her skin. The way he skims his hands over the soft, warm skin of her thighs so tentatively, so lovingly as if she might break. When he wraps a single hand around her wrist, completely encasing it—one twist and she snaps. Or when he grabs her by the throat in the heat of passion, a growl—a cry?—on his lips. One tug and she meets her end.

Yet when he holds her like this, so delicately, she’s reminded of his love. His large and steady hands grasp her small and trembling ones. And then he’s breathing onto her open palms carefully, blowing inferno over her hands so attentively it threatens to melt her heart. Large as he physically is, he is so gentle, so tender.

Cold-blooded yet warm, warm, warm. He sets her on fire all the same.

She huddles closer to him as he continues his ministrations—rubbing on her palms, warming her up, the crackling of the firewood a comforting sound in the dead of night.

“Is that better, my love?” Alucard breaks the silence, wrapping a thick blanket over her shoulders.

She chuckles at the way she’s shivering underneath layers of thick clothing and he’s sitting there in his thin white shirt, unperturbed as always, ever so invincible. Her shield. He makes her feel so safe.

“Yes, thank you,” she responds in kind, grabbing his hands again, locking their fingers together.

Alucard smiles and looks down at their joint hands, lifting them a little under his nose. “You’re welcome,” he says.

He unfurls his fingers from hers, stretching the length of his hands against his lover’s, completely drowning hers.

“Darling,” he laughs a little, breaking the moment. “Your hands are tiny.”

Immediately, she frowns. “Uhm, they are not, Sir six-foot-something half-vampire.” She snatches her hands back. “You—and your hands—are simply humongous.”

A lift of the brow. “Alriiight,” he says in a sing-song voice, a playful smirk on his handsome face. He lowers his voice. “If you say so, Miss small human.”

“I know so,” she says, huffing. “And I’m of average height, you know.”

He hums, entirely unconvinced. “Mhmm…”

“Adrian! Must you be so insufferable?!”

They burst out laughing.

[alucarddear]

Hi. First off in love with your writing here it’s all top tier and I especially love how you write Adrien/Alucard.

I was wondering if you could make a thing where the reader tries to protect him from a nightwalker but ends up badly hurt. After being healed and potentially getting scolded by we know who, she then asks him to train her to defend herself. But, it leads to something like that cute scene from season 3 but without the treachery that follows and more wholesomeness instead.

Like Breathing

In which Alucard scolds her and she accidentally confesses her feelings.

[She/her]

I realised I still haven’t written a confession moment or a first-kiss moment, so this seems like a great opportunity! Hope the conclusion is fluffy enough for you. 🤍

It’s coming!

It’s coming at him from behind!

In the next second, her body moves of its own accord, shielding her companion from the night creature's horrific claws, a pathetic dagger in her hands. But almost immediately, she finds herself shoved, seemingly carelessly flung to the undergrowth, breath forcibly knocked out of her lungs.

She hears Alucard growling through the ringing in her ears—"Stay out of the way!"—right before it rains blood everywhere, nearly completely drenching her.

The monster she’d jumped in front of now lies immobile, grotesquely cut in half, discarded on the damp grass near her. Just like its other companions, littered to her left and right. She nearly gags from the smell and the sight of them.

And then she’s being roughly hauled off her throbbing and possibly swollen feet by her arms, sending her stumbling straight into Alucard’s hard chest, encaged in his arms. The adrenaline’s wearing off now and suddenly she finds herself trembling, but so are the arms wrapped around her, she realises. She holds on to him for dear life.

He pulls away from her then, holding her in place by her shoulders, and he’s angry, fiercely angry with her, so livid he’s quivering from it.

His eyes, usually golden honey and warm, now appear red-rimmed and dark amber, and on his mouth is a vicious snarl rather than one of his soft and small smiles. And then he’s yelling at her, shaking her, rasping with as much conviction as she’s ever heard come out of him—“Don’t you ever, ever do that again!”

He’d told her to hide or to run and she couldn’t even do any of it right. Tears pool in her eyes almost immediately, feeling so little and ashamed. She’d been absolutely useless. She’d endangered both herself and Alucard too. Yet she does her best to stop her tears from spilling, chewing on her bottom lip hard enough to bleed. She deserves his anger.

“Stop that,” he admonishes her at once, voice softer now, calmer. He brushes his thumb across her bottom lip, releasing it. And then he is sighing and pulling her closer again, embracing her tenderly. “I’m sorry,” he says kindly, the sound of his voice coming from just below her ear. “I apologise. I didn’t mean to yell at you or make you cry. I’m sorry.”

That’s not why I’m crying, she wants to tell him, but she couldn’t stop sobbing if she tried, so she nods at him instead.

“Hush now, I’m not angry,” he says, misunderstanding. He wipes away at her tears. “You’re wobbling a little. Let’s take a look at your feet, shall we?” He picks her up and wordlessly carries her back home.

The next day, she asks him to train her in sword-fighting. After that incident, he happily obliges. She ought to learn how to defend herself. They cannot afford to have a repeat of that moment.

They start with correct footwork and basic forms first, what with her sore feet and all, but he finds that she’s a quick learner and they discover that she favours her left hand—that as soon as she switched to it, her riposte and her parrying improved by a long shot.

“Slowly, but surely, for now,” he reminds her. “Mind your feet, please.”

They spend the entirety of the sunlight lightly sparring just behind the castle, with no real force to it as she cannot pivot too much.

Later on in the evening, after cleaning themselves up, they sit next to the fire to warm up.

But as soon as they aren’t busy anymore, silence hangs thick in the air again, neither really speaking up nor addressing what had happened the day before, but knowing that they have to at some point.

Alucard breaks the silence first with a sigh. “Look—”

“Listen,” she says at the same time. “Oh… sorry, uhm, it’s okay. You go first.”

“I said I was sorry,” he says, clearing his throat and facing away from her, eyes boring a hole into the hearth. “I was only…”

But she cannot hold it in anymore. Like a balloon overfilled with water that suddenly burst, it all comes pouring out of her—

“I care a lot about you, Alucard. I didn’t know what I was doing. You told me to hide, to run, but I couldn’t do any of that when I saw it was about to jump on you from behind. I just knew I had to do something, anything, anything was better than to run away and leave you behind when you were going to get hurt! I just knew I couldn’t just leave you and I couldn’t lose you either! I love—”

His head snaps towards her almost immediately. She nearly slaps a hand across her mouth.

Alucard takes a good look at her. Her face nearly matches the red of the fire, but so does his, if the burning of his cheeks is any indication.

“You… you love me?” He asks, voice small, almost incredulous.

You silly man. How could I not?

She confirms it with a nod, cheeks burning all the way to the tips of her ears. All of the sudden, the scratches on the floor seems so interesting.

She hears him chuckle, and then he’s grasping her hands in his. “Hey,” he says, “Look at me,” and she knew he would be smiling before she even looked.

“I… I love you too,” he confesses, prying her hands open and placing a kiss on her palm. “I think I have for a while now. It’s why I was so angry. Why I didn’t want you to be hurt on my behalf. Why I wanted you to run, to be safe, to hide. I… I’m in love with you.”

She understands now, understands him completely.

Yet his confession steals the very breath from her lungs all the same. And like the pull that tethers the sea to the earth, she finds herself drawn by him, magnetised by him. She finds herself scooting closer, closer, until she’s cupping his face in her hands, until he’s wrapping her in his arms, until they’re kissing each other softly on the mouth, sighing in perfect bliss.

She’s never done this before, but she finds it comes to her like breathing.

[alucarddear]

Peach Wine (1/?)

Requested by @chocolatecomputerunknown. Read her prompt here. She asked for headcanon, but I turned it into a ficlet.

The witch escapes from her betrothal and ends up at Alucard’s castle. One mix-up with her potions later… she finds herself caged by the dhampir who’s unwilling to let her go.

Note: Eventual Yandere!Alucard. Definitely not healthy lol.

She runs as far away as her feet could take her, with no money to her name, and no possessions but the clothes on her back and the small satchel she keeps clutched to her shivering body.

She started with a vague direction, but she’s long since forgotten it. At this point, she doesn’t know where she is nor where she’s running off to anymore, only who and what she’s running from—a life of misery and pain with someone who cares very little for her. Someone who hurts her and will continue to do so if she hadn’t left, and so she runs. 

Time is a blur now. In her trepidation, all she is aware of is the constant sinking and lifting of her boots off the thick snow. She wonders how far she is now, and how long it would take for them to realise that she’d gone. Quite far, she thinks. If her thirst and the burning of her shins are any indication. 

The sun is weakening already, the frosty winter cutting the days short. She knows there is little time left before she’s forced to face an even bigger problem than simply dying of dehydration. Monsters will soon be upon her, and with her exhaustion, she doubts she can fend them off long enough to make it past the forest and find shelter. 

Suddenly, she’s hit with the startling realisation that this might be the end for her. But what difference does it make, really? If she hadn’t run away, she would have been married off to her vile fiancé who she’s quite certain would rather have her dead more than anything anyway. She would have been forced to live a life in hiding and misery, always keeping her head down, subservient to the whims of one belonging to a much more powerful coven than hers.

Yes, she would much rather take her chances or die here trying than years later, shackled to someone contemptible all the while. It would have only prolonged the inevitable. It’s not as if they ever cared about her anyway. Not her family, not her friends. Everyone turns a blind eye to the abuse she receives from her fiancé just because his family is powerful. 

It is no secret that humanity has always hated witches. Their abilities are believed to be those of the devil’s, the witches themselves descendants of Satan. Thus, supernatural abilities—anything out of the ordinary—is seen as inherently wicked. 

Outsiders to their own home, the history books have always and continue to paint witches in such a light that those suspected are mercilessly persecuted and burnt at the stake; the barbaric act celebrated and perpetuated by the church itself. Even innocent humans with no magical inclination at all also fall to their unjust demise this way. It is for this very reason that witches like to hide their identities. Trust no one outside of our coven, her mother and father have always said. Thus, the tradition of arranged marriages within covens began. The practice not only ensures mutual safety between two families, but also increases the chances of the resulting offspring awakening their power.

She’d ruined his life, her betrothed had told her once. She’d wrenched from his grasp whatever chance of happiness he could have had with his lover. But it is not as if she is any happier about their engagement.

For witches like her, such a thing as finding true love shouldn’t be nearly as important as staying alive. But often, she finds herself wondering what if…

So she runs.

She doesn’t stop running, disposing night creatures who dare along the way. Soon, she stumbles upon a clearing. The sun has set completely and she finds herself shrouded in darkness, completely at the mercy of what sinister creature may next happen upon her.

In the distance, she sees a large structure of sorts—crumbling and seemingly uninhabited. Shelter.

She drags on, heading to the ruins, the frigid winter air burning her lungs with every shuddering breath she takes. She attempts to summon fire to the palm of her hand, only to come up short, producing mere useless smoke.

She’s done for. If another night creature makes its way to this part of the forest, she’s no longer able to fight.

Thankfully, she reaches the decrepit structure without a hitch. She just about crawls to the safety of a still-standing pillar amongst all the rubbles, forgoing testing its integrity before resting her back to it. She really couldn’t care less about being squashed to death at this point. The thought of it almost sounds like mercy.

Now that she gets to rest a bit, she realises she’d been running with a large open gash on her side. A swipe from the night creature must have nicked her. In all her rage and panic, she barely even felt it then. She certainly feels it now.

It stings…

She rips up a long strip off the bottom of her dress and creates a makeshift gauze, tying it tightly and securely around her midsection. It should do for now.

She closes her eyes, sleep beckoning, only for them to fly open at the feel of cold steel pressed against the skin of her throat. She freezes, and her mind changes almost immediately from her previous disregard for her life—she does, in fact, want to live. 

A tall figure stands over her, the steel of his long blade glistening in the dark, the tip of it nearly pricking her skin. 

“Rise,” he orders.

In the light of the moon, the stranger appears otherworldly. As she rises slowly, careful not to touch the blade at her throat, she raises her hands in surrender. She has no fight left in her, and her world is starting to spin. She would only ask that he doesn’t send her back where she came from, if he even lets her live at all. 

The figure towers over her. At full height, she barely reaches his shoulders. He dons a dark coat over his dark pants and has on no shirt—the large and angry scar stark against his pallid chest visible in his open coat, intimidating her further. 

It’s cold out, how is he—and then it dawns on her. 

Vampire. He’s a vampire.

Not just any vampire too, but the infamous one with the scar. Yes, the dhampir Alucard. She knows how humans feel about witches, but how about vampires? She’s certainly not willing to find out which side of himself he favours. They may very well end up one and the same.

She ought to run.

“You are Alucard, aren’t you?” she attempts to make nervous conversation to buy herself time to think. Think, damn it!

Magic isn’t going to work, she’s already exhausted it, especially not with his sword on her throat like that. Besides, she can barely even stand. Her eyes dart around, finding a possible escape route. She may very well get herself killed by moving at all, but she’s come so far she’s willing to die trying.

His brow tugs upwards slightly. “Not the Alucard? That’s new,” he observes out loud, amused, but says nothing to confirm nor deny it.

She gulps.

“If you have any desire to preserve your life, you would turn ba—”

She hits the ground faster than he could finish his threat, out cold.

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