#castlevania post season III AU

[ruiniel]

u know what, i'm gonna be a basic b and ask for the ever iconic it's way too cold outside so lets cuddle naked and pretend that we're not aroused trope for castlevania's alucard. gotta love some of that sweet sexual tension

Some classics are made to last and be retold, never worry! I wanted to practice some writing but was also tired so uh, took an alternate ending to a scene from an older Alucard x OFC fic that used the 'beauty and the beast' trope, changed a few things, and included your prompt. … I wouldn’t exactly call it cuddling, but gave it a dose of UST. A lot of setup, though, even some action before that. Hope you like it.

This is the continuation of Schemes (warning, major angstfest there). Schemes doesn't need to be read in order to get this one, but it sure would enhance the last scene here.

The title is part of the proverb Still waters run deep. It was just there.  

Still waters

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Relationship: Alucard x fem!reader

Characters: Alucard, Reader, Original Characters

Count: 4k

Rating: M (🔞)

Tags/CW: scholar!reader, brief depiction of illness, abuse, verbal abuse, violence, attempted murder, unresolved sexual tension, Alucard is Not nice in this, Though he still means well, OK he's *kind of nice*, explicit language, post Castlevania season III, POV Reader Character, Second Person POV, references to past emotional conflict, protectiveness

Summary: He frightened you that night... but you’d been so foolish. Taking a moment of weakness for something else, pushing when you shouldn’t have. Now here you are: alone, worn, having traveled along the first dusty path you found away from the woods, aiming to be as far from that castle as possible. You have but few belongings, save a valuable manuscript he’d once gifted you.

"And where would I go?" you asked with a newfound, raking sort of hurt pride, a wayward look of disbelief in your eyes.

"That is your concern, not mine," Alucard retorted tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Adrian—" you tried again, only to be cut off by a scalding look.

"You will regret ever setting foot here otherwise," he snapped at you, his words chopped and shaking.

Trembling like a leaf, you bit down the crippling misery that piled up your throat. "I already do," you spewed before turning on your heel and dashing out of his sight, sparing no glance back.

You shook your head wearily at the wretched, aching memory of that last encounter, and peered beyond the heavy wooden gates of the village you’d discovered in your path. You hoped someone was awake on the other side, waited for a few minutes. Nothing. You were about to knock again when a bell began its chiming chant, in reckoning of dawn. After the bell died your knuckles struck the wooden gate again.

"A’ight, ai’ght," a disgruntled elderly voice began from the other side. "Got a bad leg y'know," the voice went on, and the trap door opened level with your face. Suspicious old eyes found yours. "Your name and your business," the watchman demanded.

You gave him your name in your most steady voice, though it came harsh with disuse. "I am no more than a traveler, fatigued and in search of lodgings."

The distrustful air held, and the trap door was closed. A moment later the gate opened either way, as was the custom in some areas once daybreak hit.

"Traveling alone are ye?" the somewhat raggedy old man placed his hands on his hips, shamelessly eyeing you striding past. " ... I'd watch meself if I were you—" the watchman added, but the end of his sentence was lost on you, now too preoccupied with taking in the new view before you. It was a rather large settlement, not quite a town but far from being a hamlet. Wood and thicket houses lined the uncobbled streets, and tall wooden gates spread unevenly delimited different homesteads from one another. You noticed folk were already up and about, most garbed in similar thick linens and furs. There was a bustle of men and women of various ages heading into different directions to pursue the labors of the day.

"Pardon me," you swiftly asked one passing woman. "What is this place called?"

"Why ye find yerself in Bran," she replied hastily, rushing off before you had a chance to ask whether you could expect to find room and board of any kind. Bran. You had no notion of this place. Sleeping under the naked sky was not something you shied away from, and there was little doubt you’d resort to such again throughout your journey. But for now, well, now you needed a good long rest and a warm meal. And a batch of new memories, if possible.

You walked along the main street, eyes searching for anything which may have constituted an inn. Mud and dirt clung to your boots and the hem of your cloak, gathered along the wet road drenched in nightly rains. You sighed, shouldering the satchel containing your few belongings.

Morning, midday and afternoon passed with little commotion and no success in finding a place to stay. You felt all the more despondent, though the reason had little to do with your uncertain options for the night.

You felt empty and a little lost, in more ways than one. Something was missing, and it was not unlike an invisible string puppeteering your thoughts; they ever returned to him. You wanted to forget, but no doubt that would take time. You wanted his callous words to stop striking dents into your mind. What was causing the most distress was the way his merciless distrust had slammed into you, and during moments you could not erase from your mind however much you tried.

You regarded the bleak day, strewn with impending grey clouds looming in the distance, wondering whether he was well, whether he was at all regretful for how it all spiralled down between you. After all, he did have a human side, supposedly. You may have taken a wrong step, and as time wore on, the stronger this conviction became. But your head had been full, of both wine and him and a ruthless desire you could not rein. No use regretting it now.

Soon, there was commotion around you as you reached the village marketplace. There were various merchants selling leathers, metalwork and wooden carvings among others and there was even a stand laden with smoked meats. There was plenty of mud here as well, giving the gathering a rather splattered appearance. You also saw chickens, goats and pigs put up for sale.

You waded through the crowd, considering spending coin on whatever nourishment you could find, when a wail was heard from without. The sounds were inhuman to your ears, closer to screeches than anything. 

You approached the curious crowd that had gathered, and craning your neck to see better, you noticed a young girl, writhing on the ground. Her body was contorting in strange positions. She looked to be in her early youth, and was a sorry state. Her eyes were rolled over so the bare whites were visible, and she was uttering sounds that would have caused a night creature to flee. An older woman was on her knees and attempting to keep her flailing arms at bay.

"Witchery..." you heard the word whispered by more than one. "The devil has her, she is under its spell again," another was saying.

You sighed in annoyance, shouldering your way between them. That is no spell.

You’d seen this condition before, during your studies. It was an affliction of the mind and body, leaving one too weakened and unable to perform tasks as others would. The older woman was desperately trying to soothe the girl, now foaming at the mouth, even as you came before them and lowered yourself beside them. "Hold her jaw," you said. "I am a... healer," you offered by way of greeting, at which point the woman's eyes widened. She did as was asked.

"She must not bite her tongue," you told the frantic woman, moving the girl before pressing two fingers to a specific spot along the side of her neck. The struggling soon ceased, and her arms and legs became slack, her eyes closed.

You caught the gaze of the older woman.

"It usually takes me much longer to still her," she said, her eyes full of worry and gratitude. "I have never seen anyone achieve what you have done."

"Your child has an ailment, one she will bear if properly tended," you leaned in closer. "And it has nothing to do with God or the Devil," you whispered, looking to the somewhat wary crowd. People had begun to disperse and go about their business.

"Well, whatever it is, I am in your debt." She lowered her head.

"Let there be no debt, I do not do this for recompense."

"I am Rafilae, and this is my daughter, Maria," the woman looked to the girl now nestled in her arms. "I have a cottage at the other end of our village, and though we have no wealth to speak of, I would still wish to repay you, somehow. Come, I think we have enough food to share for tonight, and you look to be in need of rest yourself."

You could do little to deny that. You were tired, you were hungry. "If that would not be too much trouble..."  you said, with little conviction.

"Bah, no trouble at all. I'll explain all to my man. Now come," Rafilae urged, and having nothing else to do nor indeed anywhere to go, you heeded.

A cloaked figure watched you depart but did not follow, instead fading amid the crowd of the bustling market.

Evening found you seated on the ground at a wooden table in a small thatched roof hut, a steaming dish of root vegetable broth set before you. You were joined by your new acquaintances and hosts, both of whom seemed wholesome, hardworking people. Rafilae's husband Rufus had been an amenable man, and all the happier when he heard of the aid you provided. Maria lay on a bed of hay not too far away, joined by her brothers and sisters, having regained herself in the meantime.

They asked of your purpose in Wallachia, of your own lands. They were curious people, but you were at a point where you craved and welcomed the openness of human contact. You kept most of your trials to yourself, placing forward the idea that you were a traveling healer. You then instructed the couple on a few techniques to help their daughter and spoke of the condition she bore. These simple folk were looking rather incredulously at you, still somewhat unable to believe their child was not possessed by any forces of evil. It was during this conversation that a vicious knock sounded at the door of the hut.

"Rather late for visitors," Rufus said with narrowed eyes.

All conversation ceased, and the man rose, taking a heavy pitchfork in hand. You rose as well and peered outside to catch glimpse of the intruder. Your eyes widened at the sight.

Six figures, all armed and dressed in robes of black and gold were planted before the homestead.

One of them pointed a long, dirty finger at you. "That one."

Rufus went to stand as a shield before you and his wife, grasping the pitchfork firmly in his hand.

"The Lord's Horde," Rafilae placed her hand to her mouth, while you were suddenly looking about them for any possible ways of escape. Yes, you remembered their kind. You recalled the etchings of their garb and the ruthless dogmatism which drove them to blind murder. It was their kind who chased you that rainy day, whom you barely escaped; who led you to...

"Are you certain?" one of the robed men asked.

"As I live and breathe," came the confirmation. "That’s the witch Denes and the others caught in Rusi. When I saw her in the market today in the commotion I could not believe my eyes. She drew out the devil from one, so there's further proof." His voice dripped loathing. "I never thought she would dare show her face around these parts after what she did."

"What is the meaning of this?" Rufus demanded.

The second man who’d spoken neared. He clasped his hands together in his faded robe, his air one of distinction. He had a long dark beard and wore a faded black prior's cap on his short cropped hair. "You host a witch in your midst."

You scoffed, though inside you quaked. Not again, not again. 

The man continued his case. "She is responsible for the deaths of men in our brotherhood who tried to capture her near Rusi. We never saw them again."

"I am no witch!" You seethed, looking pleadingly to Rufus and his wife.

Rufus did not seem convinced either. "Do you have proof of this?" he looked back to the prior.

The prior frowned, his cold eyes gaining a mad glimmer. "You know our cause. You know we will fight for the Lord with all that we are, and against anyone who stands in the way of His justice," he looked pointedly at Rufus. "I would entreat you not to interfere with God's work, lest you are prepared to face the consequences."

The man briefly took in the various sharp weapons the others wielded. Their gazes were cold and there was the same spark of maddened devotion in their eyes.

The children had appeared at the entrance, curious and wide-eyed. You sighed upon seeing them, lowering your head.

"No," you placed a hand on the man's shoulder, then regarded the prior icily. "I will go freely." You looked to Rafilae, who was wringing her hands. "Thank you for your aid." Then swiftly you retrieved your satchel, and hands were on your shoulders, and you were dragged away before the startled eyes of the family who'd shown you kindness. It is true, everything does go in cycles the thought crossed your mind.

"What will you do to me?" you dared ask as one of the men pulled your hands to bind them. You struggled in vain, but the man forcibly revealed your wrist, still bearing marks from the incubus attack weeks ago.

"Further proof, prior Horvath," and all gasped when they saw the reddened scars as he forcibly brought your wrist upward. "Cavorting with vampires also, no doubt."

The one called Horvath sneered, his dark eyes set on your livid expression. "We take her to the river," then his smile turned vicious. "You do what you will with her." The others grinned, looking at each other. "Throw her body in when done."

"No, please," you tried reason, struggling as the bonds were tightened. "I bear nothing but knowledge, and have no skill nor anything to do with the dark arts!"

"Silence!" the prior boomed, features contorting. He thrust his face close to yours, taking a fistful of your hair and pulling so harshly you screeched in pain. "Where are our brethren then, hmm? There is nothing you can say or do to make me believe you, wench, save for their safe return. And even then," he gripped harder, causing your eyes to water. "You are still a filthy servant of the Enemy." He released you, and bid them march ahead with you dragged in tow.

As you left the village behind, you were trying to come to terms with the fact that life was apparently not on your side. None dared intervene and there were few people out and about since evening had fallen. All feared the darkness and what lurked beyond it, and rightfully so. The tall woods soon swallowed the group, and two captors lit torches.

When you heard the murmur of water nearby, you swallowed. They must have neared the river. You looked left and right, seeing nothing but gloom. They’d taken your satchel away, reverently saying its contents were destined to be burned.

Then you were being dragged by two of them, struggling and panting, towards the steep edge where the river thrashed below. Your legs flailed, and a powerful strike ended your wailing. You saw stars.

"Pin her down," one said, and they were about to do just that, when something hissed past them.

You saw nothing in the dark, save for the torch fallen to the forest bed. You heard groans and muffled cries as bodies fell to the ground.

You rose swiftly to your knees, trying to rip the bonds with your teeth to no avail, fumbling onto the ground, looking for the satchel. You stared about yourself, for whatever was happening lit by the weak light of the fallen torches.

A tall figure faced the prior.

It all happened too fast. You were being dragged by the hair, caught in an armlock that had you choking. The prior stood alone, and spilled blood rose warm in the air. He was ever pacing back towards the cliff, and the river below, with you struggling in his grip.

"Stay back!" he cried, brandishing a long knife even as his opponent stepped ever closer. 

"Release your captive," the presence commanded, aiming his weapon at the prior's chest.

The voice. That voice.

"What?!"

"Release your captive, then jump," the voice repeated calmly as the blade swished through the air, glinting eerily. "And you may survive the river. I will count to three, at which point your heart will be pierced by my blade. Your decision," he offered as the prior kept looking back towards the gaping nothingness, then to the catlike gaze of the stranger.

True to his word, he began his count. 

"Are you mad?! Your witch will perish too, you fucking beast, because if I go, she goes with me."

If you didn’t know better, you thought you’d heard a growl. 

"Here, if you want her so badly, she’s all yours—” 

You gasped as you were forcefully flung into darkness, deafened by your own startled cry, by another short, agonized gurgle.

And then, pins and needles, and the cold numbed all.

Pain. Everywhere and nowhere; too hot, but then too cold. You opened your eyes to what seemed like pale daylight sifting through a window, closed them again. 

Am I alive?

The capture, the darkness, the river, all came crashing down in waves of memories, and a violent quiver shook your frame. You were strewn on something softer than a forest bed. You opened your eyes anew, saw nary a movement, and felt something warm pressed to your forehead. A palm. You shivered, shivered, shivered, before losing consciousness again.

Must it be so cold everywhere? Everything hurt. As you stared blearily along your arm, you felt the bruises forming there. And then, a change: warmth at your back, much needed heat enveloping you. Pleasant and alive, and before you understood—or cared—what it was, you pressed closer. Something locked around your waist.

"You fidget," and despite the ache, the warm breath against your neck sent a different shiver down your body.

This was not actually happening. You were caught in some feverish dream, dying on the stony banks of the river.

"...where… you…"

"Don’t try to speak. Rest."

"...came for me? But how…"

An exasperated sigh. "My senses. I know your scent."

At any other time, those words might have had your heart soaring and mind reeling, but now you were too numb for even the infatuation which, even in delirium, apparently wouldn’t loosen its hold.

"You struck the waters before I reached you,"  Adrian went on in that soft voice, though its tone was rather clinical.

Yes, you struggled to remember. He did arrive, it had been him. Right before…

It was then you noticed something mortifying—you were bare under the covers, and the warmth against your back was skin. 

As if reading your thoughts, Adrian spoke again. "You were in shock when I retrieved you from the water. The medicine supplies here were mostly destroyed during the siege on the castle," he said, and you realized that what was closed around you was his arm; his bare arm, and your back was pressed to his chest. You were too tired to move, too gutted to speak. Last time you attempted closeness, he all but cast you out of the castle and now, now…

If only you had the strength to be angry.

"The heating system no longer works since then, and I had no firewood, and your condition was fastly worsening. I had no choice," he spoke again.

And the way he said the last words was killing you; like you were a chore, and a disturbance. 

Still, he… he was there.

"...I see…" you managed, feeling him warm but stiff as you lay unmoving on your side. You wished you could scream, demand an apology for his denial and his distrustful, unjust words during that last encounter but then—he saved your life.

"Why?" you croaked, staring out the window, where clouds darkened the sky above the forest.

"I told you not to speak."

"Why did you do it?" you asked stubbornly, feeling the arm tighten around your waist in an uncontrolled jerk of movement. "Why did you go through the trouble of dragging me from their clutches when you demanded I left in the first place."

"I demanded you left, but never wanted you to come to harm."

You closed your eyes. "You called me a liar." He could be so goddamn infuriating. Never a straight answer, but his warmth seeping into you felt so good it made you drowsy, and the most primal side of you felt it seeping within, lacing pleasure to pain.

Silence. You wondered if you’d finally reached him, or if it was the guilt at his past conduct that drove him to this. You could not help remembering the way he held you then, the desperate longing in his kiss, the heat rising between you as he crushed you closer—a heat not unlike the one burning you now; you no longer shivered from the cold, but were loath to tell him.

Damn you. Damn him.

His chest rose in a sigh against your naked back. "There are things you do not know. About me. I…"

You couldn’t be more bewildered if you saw a pig on white wings flying towards the sun. Adrian, being honest and straightforward? Still, you did not hedge him. Let him struggle, the petty side of you urged, the other melting with desperation and love.

"My trust was broken before," he finally said, and you waited, but Adrian added nothing else.

Still. "I did not know," you said, staring out the window. 

"I realized that. After," and for the first time, you sensed a sliver of remorse in his tone. Not an apology, but, for now, all else considered, it would do. This was not the way things went in your lustful dreams of him from before; aching all over, unable to move. 

"How do you feel?"

You swallowed. "Warm."

A pause. You’d half expected him to rise and leave, but nothing happened.

"Good," he said. He felt warmer, or maybe it was a slight of the imagination. And then, "I do not think you a liar."

You still felt resent at the memory, but on impulse, your hand reached, pressed over his own that was splayed over your abdomen. Your fingers slipped between his; he did not withdraw. 

"Please," you heard then, and the whisper held something ragged in it, and you became aware of a hardness against you, just like… like that first time you threw yourself at him like a fool with your head full of wine and body thrumming with desire.

You said nothing else, become aware of the risen heartbeat against your spine. And suddenly you wondered, and suddenly you understood. 

"Did you bring me back to cast me away again once I’m better? Will you reprise that humiliation?" You could not help it, though his words on trust haunted you already, as many of his past actions gained a new, horrible sense.

"No." It sounded pained on its own; you let it be.

You lay in silence, aware you could not even move if you tried to turn and face him, to see his eyes, to feel him closer, to tell him. "I will wait for you, Adrian," you said either way, and never heard his answer as exhausted sleep claimed you.

MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

[ashenpages]

WIP tag game!

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @elderbwrry. You! I saw this notification and was all, “yeah, okay, I’ll answer some weird questions about my WIPs, should be fun...”

AND THEN IT WAS ABOUT TITLES!!!

You have no idea the disaster you’ve wrought for me, tagging me in this. I tag all of my fandom WIPs with [Character A] x [Character B, C, etc], a hyphen, and then a stupid title name that strikes me. Sometimes it stays, sometimes it changes, but regardless, NOW I GOTTA OUT ALL MY SHIPS

HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME???

So you’re not gonna get titles. You’re gonna get my weird crazy sum-ups of what they are and how I remember them in my head. And it’s gonna be both fandom stuff and original stuff that was inspired by fandom stuff and got too big.

Here they are:

- Teen Titans, but it’s all kinds of gender bent and all about queer history and figuring out who you wanna be both as a person and as a hero.

- Invader Zim meets the Little Mermaid, monosex alien race member with sharp teeth and too many bio-tech enhancements to count and whom like’s she/her when she discovers earth pronouns and an aromantic but hyper-sexual cyrptid-obsessed NASA college student fall in love like garbage and save the universe. Alternate history where the US has its shit together, set near the Allan Telescope Array in California, because I miss going to visit my grandparents down there.

- Vampire hunter with Von Willibrands bleeding disorder and Alucard dhampire offspring of Dracula hunt down bad vampires together and question what makes a monster together while being scary and incredibly sapphic. Heavy Hellsing and Castlevania vibes (love both of those Alucards).

- Short story for an anthology that seems like a scary stalking story of a well-dressed Indian woman in Britain being chased through the streets at night by a bunch of dudes, until she turns out to be a vampire and eats them all. Then she meets up with her girlfriend for a late night dinner and declines to order anything because “she’s already eaten.” (this one’s due at the end of the month, so I better get typing)

- Other short story for an erotica anthology that has to include a sex scene, horror vibes, and a musical instrument (big ask for only 3-5K, but I’ll make it work!). Gonna have a hot museum curator seducing a book-ish scholar while telling her the myth of how Athena turned one of Medusa’s bones into a precious flute. I loved that myth growing up, and I’m looking forward to giving it some Hannibal vibes--while also getting to fulfill my life long dream of giving “fingering” a double entendre.

- Persona 5 Phantom Thieves in a polycule, Ryuji figures out what to do with his fucking life while getting seduced by Akira and Makoto figures out the police are bad while dating Ann. Yusuke and Futaba are the platonic life partners we all need to see in the world, and Haru is a very romantic asexual bean who loves how excited everyone gets. Akira is an ethical slut, and we love him.

- Lupin gang phantom thieves in a polycule (Fujiko offscreen) x 5. I have like five of these and they’re all different, and my spouse loves these goons, so I have a lot of them to write. We love this series from its 1970s origins all the way up through Season 5 and Lupin III: The First.

- Sonadow coffee shop vampire novelist AU. (ask me questions, it’s all too ridiculous to include here, it needs its own post/posts)

- Sonic Girls Blazamy thing where I get to sideline all the boys and just hang out with Amy, Blaze, Rouge, and Cream. Omega can come too. I haven’t played Riders and know nothing about Wave. It also wouldn’t be comics or Boom set because I’d get to distracted by how adorable Tangle and Whisper are together, I don’t wanna deal with the war they introduced in Forces, and in the Boom universe I kinda ship Amy with Sticks. But seeing Rouge play nice with other girls, seeing Cream be competant with all the skills she’s learned from Uncle Sonic, Uncle Shadow, and Aunt Rouge? Having Amy’s power inhibitors come off use the Chaos Emeralds alongside Blaze and her Sol Emeralds, and then kiss?! YES PLEASE!

- I’m sure I’ll get around to a ThanZagMeg threesome fic eventually, because Hades Game just gave me all the good poly feels for these three and ambushed me with the in-game threesome on Valentine’s Day of all days.

Thank you for tagging me in this. I know I completely changed it, but it was still fun. =D

I’ll tag @palenoface and @realperson022 because I wanna hear about your Sonic fics. <3

[ruiniel]

🔹Another Way | alucard x reader | isekai, modern AU, fantasy, slow burn | 20+ k | ongoing | Rating: M

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🔹Eager | alucard x F!reader | 2.3k | Rating: 🔞

🔹To forget | alucard x F!reader | 4.3k | Rating: 🔞

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🔹Cursed, blessed | alucard x F!reader | 0.8k | Rating: 🔞

🔹All those who wander | alucard x reader | 1.2k | Rating: T

🔹Guide me | alucard x F!reader | 2.3k | Rating: 🔞

🔹Wishes | alucard x F!reader | 2.6k | Rating: 🔞

🔹To be free | alucard x F!reader | 3.2k | pining, confessions | Rating: T

🔹Its claws dig deep | alucard x F!reader | 2.9k | jealousy | Rating: 🔞

🔹Flame | alucard x F!OC | 1.7k | emotional hurt/comfort | Rating: T

🔹Hollow | alucard x F!reader | 0.6k | Rating: 🔞

🔹A Place to Hide | alucard x vampire!reader | 1.5k | angst, emotional hurt/comfort | Rating: T

🔹Still waters | alucard x F!reader | 4k | hurt/comfort, post season III AU, unresolved sexual tension, emotional tension | Rating: M

🔹For each other | alucard x male reader | 2K | T

Will keep this updated. Some of my work is for 18+ audiences only. Further, this blog is 18+ only as stated in the description. Please curate your own experience.

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[ruiniel]

Schemes

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x fem!Reader

Count: 3.7K

Rating: M

Summary:

This is a chapter from my first Castlevania series fanfiction 'Prickly thorns, tender roses' l, a post-season III Alucard x F!OC AU. For practice I've converted it to x reader. If anyone's interested in the longer backstory/what happens next, the full fic is here. Falls under angst with a happy ending (just not this part). There's some references to previous events which I hope aren't too confusing.

Tags/Warnings: oneshot, downer ending, alcohol consumption, heavy angst, alternating POV, Post-Castlevania Season 3, References to blood-drinking, Blood-drinking aftermath, Bloodlust, Guilt, AU interpretation of dhampir abilities, slight OOC behavior, Paranoia, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Mental anguish.

He reached inside the stove and retrieved the cooked dish, deeming it ready. He placed it onto the wide stovetop, eyeing it critically. Hare would do, but it had been a while since he prepared anything for one other than himself. And even then, Alucard had put much less care into it all. It would have been the same now, but you looked weak and needed something other than brambles and nuts.

He felt your weakness through the beating of your heart, the sluggish trudging of your blood. Even now, chambers away, if he gave in to it, Alucard could sense where you were by those regular life-giving tremors alone. 

He sighed at the irksome thought. If he were being honest, guilt played a hefty part in all of this as well, for your precarious state was owed to his actions. It was hard enough now to smother all thoughts of you as it was. He had not told you everything, could not. He told you drinking your essence would change him, and it had. But then there was the aftermath, the lingering need for more, and Alucard thanked his human side for aiding with the niggling bloodlust that followed.

His jaw hurt and his throat dried when thinking of your pulse striking against him, on and on, raw and bursting as he had stalked back to the castle through the night with you in his arms. He'd been afraid of his very self, of what he could so easily become — more beast than man. Struggling to keep those recurring and frightfully tempting bouts of rage in check Alucard had grasped at your own sense of relief, almost palpable by the way it blanketed you both, craving a shred of stability, as if your humanity could quench the cursed fever engulfing him. He'd clutched you tighter despite himself for the semblance of sanity you offered, and you seemed to become smaller against him. Though you were also dazed from the blood sharing and your bleeding wrist, you clung to him like he was some savior. Like he was yours.

The mere thought was a travesty, like a cruel unfinished jest played by a careless trickster god. The logical part of him knew there had been little choice. But now here he was, still thinking of you days after the fact, still hearing every whisper of your ruby lifestream, attempting to shield himself from the scent of your apprehension and confusion, your fascination, your desire.

Who could desire someone like him? Who would want him around once they knew his shame, the pathetic attempts at closeness that ended in abandonment at best, treachery and death at worst?

Patricide, hunted, cursed. He had done nothing with his life other than react to what others have done, trying to right wrongs, becoming the one to strike the blow.

It was partly the reason Alucard had given you the manuscript. The sooner you had what you needed and left, the better. He would find another way to restore the engine room, he did not need you for it. He did not need you at all. 

His heart denounced the lie.

Though the thought of you stepping out of his life now did strange things to his mind and placed a shroud of loss over his spirit, Alucard attributed it to the yet active connection you shared. He nearly laughed at the irony of it... one unwilling, the other unaware. When he had helped with your wrist after, he barely kept himself from pinning you down, piercing your neck and having more. The knowledge that you would probably let him made it harder to ignore, though his control never slipped so far. He had felt nothing like it before, the memory of his strength and heightened state while spiked on your blood still so fresh, so tempting. He had no need of blood in the genuine sense for the duality of his nature, but his father had warned him of its intoxicating and addictive effects. And oh, that did not even begin to describe it.

Alucard ran a hand over his face in exasperation. It was better now, easier to cope with. He no longer felt the pull of you, but something else shook him out of his usually resigned and morose state of mind. The way you looked at him. The way neither of you could ever say what lurked beyond your minds, and what he'd discovered dwelling within you. It was better this way; you had another purpose here.

He had nothing else to offer you.

A rustling sound of material cut his thoughts, and his face shuttered when you entered the kitchen. One of your wrists was still bandaged, and you wore a flowing dark dress with long sleeves that flared at the hips. He did not remember this one. There was that quirk of your eyebrow which, Alucard had come to know, heralded a biting remark or another.

"I never took you for a cook," you chimed as you eyed the cast iron dish.

Alucard huffed, placing the cooked hare onto the table. "Need is the greatest of tutors, but I think you know this." You smiled, and he bit the inside of his cheek. "But you forget there was a human living here."

"Of course..." You sat down at a motion of his hand, "Your mother. That is endearing, Adrian — that she taught you, that is!" you said, and there was honesty in your voice.

"I did enjoy indulging in it at times," Alucard caught himself saying as he went to the counter and returned, placing a bottle on the table which caught your attention.

"So you no longer do?" you asked.

Alucard made a sound that might have been a hum. Your prying questions on such irrelevant aspects of himself were always amusing. "You tell me, after dinner." Was he actually engaging in small talk? 

"What is this?" you jerked your chin at the bottle.

He uncorked the bottle and took two tall glasses from a cupboard, glancing at you briefly.

You had rarely seen glass items before, having not been in any noble houses to speak of. "No, I..." you lifted a hand when Alucard poured the second glass, "...I am not accustomed to it."

Alucard looked aghast. "Try things before you denounce them, will you?" he handed you the wine.

You narrowed your eyes but took the proffered item, your attention on the swirling of the scarlet liquid. You took a wary sip; it was rich and somewhat dry to the taste, with a fruity aroma. "It is good."

His smile was haughty, but you did not take the bait.

"No retort? Is there something the matter with you?" Alucard prodded with the barest hint of teasing. 

You took a piece of game. "I am simply too happy and grateful to regale you with my stings," your eyes bore into his, "Does my cheer bother you?"

He snorted and shook his head, valiantly ignoring the rushing flow from your center, hastening through your veins. It was much more potent. Perhaps giving you red wine had not been the best endeavor.

The rest of the meal passed in companionable silence, interrupted by bouts of chatter here or there. Mundane nothings, moments he would certainly not miss when you left, for their peculiar effect that shattered his guard and left him wanting, though he had not the faintest idea what it was. When you were done Alucard stood, giving you a brief questioning glance before he took the plates away. 

You had come to quite like the soft torpor from the wine. "I will admit. That was one of the best meals I've ever had," you lounged back in the chair, pointing a slight finger at him. "Don't let it get to your head." Your smile was careless, your reserved facade turned lighter; bolder.

Alucard had taken his seat back at the table opposite you and lightly leaned over with his forearms onto the dark surface. There was a thickness in his throat as he sensed your body leaning into the table, towards him. "Forgive me, but much already has." He was smiling, his stance more carefree than before; he rested his face in his palm, watching you without the trace of a glare.

You slowly leaned back against your chair, staring at him with a raised eyebrow and an uncertain smile. "You can come back from it, if you want to."

He grinned. "Yes, they are called night creatures."

"Don't be crude."

"Listen, scholar," Alucard rose from the table.

"Whenever you say that, you turn glum and sometimes insulting," you sang.

He shrugged, heading over to the washing counter. "I thought your order valued different perspectives. I envy your resolve, I do. But it is not how I feel."

His words had been soft but stressed with belief, and again a heavy weariness, that you pushed no more.

Alucard turned from you to busy himself at the counter.

Sighing, you rose from the chair. "Do you need any help there?"

~~

The sun had yet to set when you retreated to the usual place where your evenings ended: the study. You had wanted to join him, and Alucard did nothing to deter you. You told him how brilliant the gifted tome was, how you had already delved into its knowledge, how it would be a significant step forward; how beholden you were for it.

Some time and two bottles of wine later, you were sprawled on your side onto the divan, your chin resting in your palm as you listened to him speak. You had asked of his family, and in a rare show of openness, he'd told you of his brief childhood, of the meaningful moments he remembered. You spoke of Styria and its workings, the hardships its people faced, of your own rather sheltered life as an apprentice.

Presently he was regarding the portrait of his mother that he'd retrieved and now held in his hands. "My father tried, but I owe her most of what I am," Alucard said, and it was liberating to speak of her to someone. Ever since she died, he'd not spoken of it, truly spoken of it, to anyone but his father. And he was no longer here. "I was raised to believe I represented both kindreds, and to strive in becoming the best of either," his smile faded.

"The way you speak... is it your belief that you failed?" you wondered, saddened by his change of mood. He did not deserve this misery, the loneliness, any of it. He deserved...

He turned his head, propped against the backrest of his armchair. There was a glimmer in his eyes which you attributed to the wine. You did feel strange, your arms become slack, your head spinning slightly; you were pleasantly numb all over.

"I do not know. I used to think I knew what I wanted. Not so now." Alucard stared at you and suddenly looked uneasy, lost, the cool determination fading before a despondency so deep it crept upon your heart.

Maybe it was the drink, but you hurt for him. You nodded once, looking in your lap where you fingered the soft weave of a light blanket you'd pulled over your feet. You looked back at him. "We've only known each other for a little while, but..." you licked your lips, uneasy beneath his questioning stare. "But I think, there is no need to strive, not for you. You've been through so much, but never forgot mercy. You saved my life," you shook your head, "more than once, and showed me kindness I've rarely seen from my own people."

Alucard looked down at his hands, and when his gaze met yours again, it raked over you in a way that riled, bringing forth the same need as before.

You wanted him close, wanted something of him and he would not look away, not even when you rose unsteadily from the divan, slowly stepping towards him. You felt trapped, in a trance, guided by his stare.

Emboldened and rather dazed, you neared him even as the light in his eyes changed from questioning to cold.

But he deserved...

For the first time since his feeding of you, you wanted more. For the first time, you felt a calling, vague and smothered, but you knew it was him.

Alucard watched you, warily, doing nothing when you leaned in, closer.

Your eyes were on his ageless face, trailing to his mouth — that sweet, dangerous mouth you both feared and craved to feel. But there came the vehement opposition of a wall, built of seeping resent and barely contained fury, and only late did you sense it was coming from him. His hands now shook imperceptibly and his fingers jerked, clasping the sides of his seat, his eyes lit with near bestial ferocity. He was frightening; he was beautiful.

Alucard swallowed. Yes, wine had been a terrible idea. What were you doing?

You felt no fear, but knew this was uncharted territory. You saw it in the way he watched you, heard it in that wordless calling surging through you.

"Adrian..." you reached and ran a hand through his hair, saw his eyes closing. There brimmed the need to show him there was more to life than pain, more to humanity than the ghosts of his past; you wanted to prove it to him. You allowed all the honesty you felt to surface into your words. "I know what I want," you told him, your voice gaining a throaty quality.

Gradually his eyes softened under your stare, the death grip on his seat relinquished. "And what is that?" came the barely audible question.

"More of... more of you," you said even as he went rigid, "...and I want to know what it feels like... to..." you reached for one of his wrists, running the sleeve of his shirt up to touch the scarred skin. When you leaned in, his eyes narrowed, and for the first time you saw a trace of fear in them.

"Don't."

His warning came faint, his voice strangled, laced with so much burdened craving it failed to discourage you. And he knew it — he also felt drunk on the scent of your blood, and as free as he was of the compulsion to drink you dry, it called to him incessantly, ever since you’d foolishly offered it to him. The torturous pumping of violent red through your chest, into your womb, pulsing lower—

His eyes widened when your lips ghosted the corner of his mouth; the portrait slid from his lap, falling to the floor.

Alucard gripped the edge of his seat, and in hateful submission his other arm came strongly around your waist, forcing you rather clumsily down to him.

He grasped your hair and buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in for a long moment. "Why..." he asked, the word muffled into you. A strange question, even to him. In a sudden move, he sought your mouth and pressed his lips to yours.

Everything stilled. Your breath tickled, warm and sweet. The tip of his tongue grazed your lips, and he tensed when you whimpered against his mouth. He took the lead, fingers trembling in your hair as he languidly sucked on your lower lip, lingering on the feel of it; feeding on your hunger. You tasted of hot wine and berries.

This is wrong, it is wrong, his sanity fumed, but the truth was he had missed this... this ache, the warmth of another. It filled the void, and you felt so good against him... he was close to drowning. With a strangled groan he forced you into him, and deepened the kiss.

The wood splintered where his long fingers clutched the armrest, but he could not help it. Something would break, and it was either this, or you. And the most disconcerting was how weak this was making him. It was a dangerous sort of power, and one that nearly cost him his life once.

But your scent...

"Adrian, please," you cooed, a hand trailing down his neck, gingerly following the line of his ragged, winding scar. Your fingers reached lower on burning skin, your palm splayed over warm, hardened muscle. His quickened heartbeat thundered under your touch as you nipped at his lips, smiling when he broke away to lead a burning trail from your mouth to your cheek, along your jaw, losing more of himself with every moment. The moan you had been striving to keep at bay rose in your chest, up your throat, smothered by his kiss; he sucked on your lower lip with a velvet release before pressing his cheek to yours. It was a feat to regain his shallow breathing.

You could feel something hardening against your hip as you lay draped over him on your side, and without thought pressed yourself into it. You heard a harsh intake of breath, his fingers tightening around the nape of your neck.

Alucard let his head fall back and held your lower body down, kneading you against him in possessive, repetitive friction; his hand dug into your hip. "You…" he whispered mindlessly, mirroring the pulsing rhythm of your blood in his movements. "Are you certain?..." 

You only nodded, swaying with his lead. It had been so long since he melted into someone else, and shared—

Ruthless, the memory of a similar event where dream turned nightmare resurfaced, turning pleasure to ash, and his mind began to seethe. This felt so sadly, awfully, familiar. But you would not... there had always been a type of honesty about you which Alucard tried his best to rebuke, and there was honesty in the way you touched and tasted—

… but it had been the same with them. He had sensed their lust well enough. And it had not deterred them from their plan of ending him, not in the least. He had been no less blind to their game, and what was there to keep history from repeating itself?

Even bearing these thoughts he still responded, crushing you to him to the point of painfulness, kissing you deeper. For one split shard of time he allowed himself the freedom to bask in the visions of your blood and need; of you lying on your back, your hands around your head; bared skin seeking him—

No.

And from beyond silent hedges of thought the past burst to the surface, carrying all the brunt of scalding pain and irrational fear, burning away all hopes and desires.

Who could desire someone like you?

You were utterly lost in the haze of his taste when with a hiss Alucard sharply pulled your head away, severing your breathless kiss, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Is this your game, then?" he tilted his head to the side, his expression morphing into one of calculating feline curiosity. Your pulse stumbled so fast, fuel to his desperation. "Well? Will you tell me I am lonely?" he asked, gazing at your astonished face, your lips swollen and wet, parted in surprise at the vicious interruption.

"What do you mean—" you gasped.

"Will you tell me it was time for my reward? What did you reckon? Well, pretty little fool, I am not so removed from your ways as you think. But I never expected you to attempt the same scheme," he followed, and his voice was ice. "How... disappointing."

"Adrian," you swallowed, "what is it you speak of?"

"You humans never do think too far ahead," he spoke, still breathless because of you, and all the angrier for it. "You think you know me so well, do you? You think you understand what my existence entails after what I've done?" he tilted his head to the other side. "Maybe I should turn you..." his gaze raked over you with contempt.

"No—," you croaked desperately, wondering where Adrian had gone. This was not him. "Please, I—"

"Why not? Don't you want to know what it feels like?" Alucard threw, his hand still harshly grasping your hair back so your slender neck was exposed. He watched you with a cruel smile, his darkened eyes following the rise and fall of your yet peaked breasts through your dress, the life thrum of your neck, the lips he had tasted.

"There is no scheme!" you cried. "How can you say these things!?" you tried, deeply unsettled by the hateful manner of his words. "Think! Would I attempt to retrieve you from peril if I wanted you gone, if I wanted to hurt you?"

He huffed, a cold, manic light brimming in his eyes like icy daggers to strike. "You did not have what you needed yet." His fingers tightened in your hair. "You did not know where to find it, but I'm sure you knew it had to be here."

You could barely believe your ears. Where had his usually unfeeling and pragmatic logic gone? "Damn this to hell I feel for you, I only wanted to show you that I do. Adrian—"

You gasped when you fell into the armchair holding nothing. Your gaze shot upward to see him on his feet.

"Get out," he demanded lowly, turning his back on you.

"Will you at least tell me what I've done? Please, forgive me." You rose to stand, one hand reaching for him. "Believe me, I would never harm you—"

You froze when he lashed at you, his vampiric side rushing to the fore, flaring menacingly.

"Get.OUT! " his harsh command echoed off the walls as Alucard rounded on you, eyes blazing red.

Shaking and truly frightened, you took one step back, then another. Your lower lip quivered; his touch still burned into your skin.

But then his stance mellowed, as though he were suddenly very fatigued, propping his hand against the fireside for support. His shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath. He was looking anywhere but at you. "I want you out of my home before the night is over," he ordered, making you flinch.

"And where would I go?" you asked with a newfound, raking sort of hurt pride, a wayward look of disbelief in your eyes.

"That is your concern, not mine," Alucard retorted tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Adrian—" you tried again, only to be cut off by a scalding look.

"You will regret ever setting foot here otherwise," he snapped at you, his words chopped and shaking.

Trembling like a leaf, you bit down the crippling misery that piled up your throat. "I already do," you spewed before turning on your heel and dashing out of his sight, sparing no glance back.

Told you, downer ending.