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slutforagoodsmut · 3 years

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Imagine: Dracula’s daughter

She had always been a daddy’s girl, that was certain. Since she was an infant she was attached to him by the hip, always followed him around the castle, always found him fascinating. Of course she loved her mother and Alucard as well. Days her father was busy she’d stay in her mother’s laboratory, watching Lisa mix medicines and asking questions.

“What is this?” she’d ask, barely able to look over the table. Her mother would only laugh and pick her up, sitting her down on the smooth slab of her work space.

“This is a new medicine I’m working on. It will help sick people become strong and healthy, just like you!” Lisa would poke her daughter’s tummy and the little dhampir girl would squirm in a fit of giggles. She loved her mother, she looked up to her.

Her and her brother always found things to do around the castle, painting and writing poetry, playing tag or hide and seek, which Alucard always won for some odd reason.

“You cheated!” she whined, crossing her arms.

“I did not!” Alucard stuck his tongue out at his sister. “I’m just older and faster than you!”

“By a minute! You are older by a minute!”

And at the end of the day, the young dhampir would always find herself in her father’s study, reading a book beside him or begging him to read to her. She’d always end up falling asleep in his lap and he’d carry her to bed, tucking her in and kissing her goodnight. He loved her, he loved his little girl with all his undead heart. Of course there was Lisa, the love of his life, and he did love his children equally, but she always had a special place in his heart.

As the years went on, the girl blossomed into a beautiful young woman. She had long, onyx locks like her father and a sharp tongue like her mother. She was snarky and always had something to say, but she was kind and she was loving, and she had such a big heart full of passion and wonder. She wanted to help others just like her mother, often visited houses of the ones who Lisa was close to and aided her mother if she needed it. Alucard and her loved to duel one another, and she made sure she always won. They picked on each other and instigated but it was all out of great fun. The princess took long walks with her father at night and he told her about his new discoveries between vampires and humans, and her being her, was always fascinated and wanted to know more.

Like Alucard and her mother, she had the privilege of stepping out into sunlight without a problem. She grew her fangs in before her brother when she was a small infant, which to this day she enjoys hanging over his head. She was tall and strong, and very fast, as well as very skilled with a sword. She had long nails she could extend and retract and could turn into animals, making it easier to stalk her prey at night.

Everything was....perfect, you might say. Her life was perfect, sure she lacked friends but she had a wonderful home and a loving family that she could depend on.

That all changed after that horrific night in 1475. When Lisa Tepes was killed everything crumbled to dust. The love in the castle had disappeared, it was so cold and dark and stunk of misery.

She grew strained from her father once Alucard had left home. She didn’t want him to go and he didn’t want to leave her, but they both knew it was for the best.

In a year, it was almost like two complete strangers shared a home. Dracula made no effort to connect with his daughter as he was so caught up with damning the whole world to hell, and in that time his daughter pushed him away. She barely spoke with him, didn’t even attempt to at this point. He was so angry, so angry with the world and with everyone in it. Lisa wouldn’t have wanted this, her children knew that. Their mother was a part of the human race, mortality ran through the children’s blood. They were a part of them, and their father wanted to burn them all.

She grew angrier and angrier with her father as the dreadful days passed on. He let these other vampires into their home and they did whatever they wanted! And what did he do, wallow away into nothing in his library, sitting in front of the fireplace every single day! Pathetic! Absolutely pathetic!

One day, she had enough. Dracula’s daughter couldn’t stand a single day more in that castle, enraged with her father she planned to leave. She considered leaving without telling him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. So, with a satchel over her shoulder holding her most valuable things, she walked into her father’s library. The back of his chair was to her, and yes, he stared into his fireplace like he always had.

“I’m leaving.” she spoke up, gripping the strap of her bag. Nothing, he didn’t say a word, he didn’t even move a muscle in his seat. His daughter only sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek as she turned away. “Goodbye, father.”

Part of her never wanted to see him ever again. Part of her wanted nothing more to do with her father, but she knew deep down their paths would cross again, and she’d end up in that castle once more.

She was alone, really alone this time, she had no one to turn to, she kept her distance from strangers and if they gave her trouble she’d risk the danger and bear her fangs, making them all run away in fear. The one night, one fateful night, she had run into her brother and two others who accompanied him. She was running through the woods as night creatures attacked, she’d slaughtered as many as she could, but they were closing in on her. In that moment she felt powerless till three beings came out of the thick woods and ended the monsters’ rampage.

“Alucard?” she whispered, leaning herself against a tree, holding her side which bled a concerningly amount.

He gasped, his eyes widened with shock as he looked at his dear sister. “Sister?”

“You have a sister?” The strange woman spoke up in her thick accent.

“Oh god, not another one of you....” A tall dark haired man grumbled, slapping his hand over his face.

Alucard’s sister ran over to him and threw her arms around him as hard as she could. She couldn’t believe it. She had so many questions. How was he here? Why wasn’t he underground like he said he’d be? Who were these people?

Overtime, these questions were answered. The woman was a speaker, her name was Sypha, and that other oaf of a man was a Belmont, Trevor Belmont, a vampire’s sworn enemy. She thought they died off years ago, but never mind that. Her brother had woken from his year of slumber when the two of them accidentally found him (more so Trevor than Sypha) and asked if he’d help them in their quest.

“We’re going to the castle...” Alucard spoke softly. His sister sat across from him, staring quietly into the fire they had made. She wasn’t stupid, she could put the puzzle pieces together. They were going there to end Dracula’s terror for once and for all. Her heart broke, just like it had before. She had to come to terms with killing their father, it was such a painful thing to imagine but...if that meant millions and millions of people would survive, then so be it.

“It just hurts, ya’know? I mean, how could anyone go through with the idea of murdering their father?”

“He’s not our father, not anymore at least.”

Alucard was right, she hated to admit it. That monster conducting all of this genocide wasn’t their father. Their father was loving and caring, and this man....wasn’t any of that. The king of darkness was blinded by a rage and there was no looking back. Their father died when Lisa Tepes took her last breath.

One by one, she slit the throats of dozens. Striking her sword through vampire soldiers, beheading the generals who held councils in her very home, the ones who practically took her home away from her. Was it truly still her home, she couldn’t tell, all she knew it as now was Vlad Dracula’s hideout, nothing more. She would get her revenge on every last one of them, her fists driving through their chests and yanking out their still beating hearts, crushing them in her palms. How dare they mock her home as if it were their own little sanctuary. How dare they.

“Alucard--you, Belmont and Sypha fight off those night creatures! I’m going to find our father!” She yelled as she climbed the steps.

Alucard impaled a night creature “Be careful! He’ll hurt you!”

But she was already down the hall and up the steps to her father’s library. Millions of thoughts ran through her mind. The guilt of it all, having to go through an act that would be considered unspeakable under God’s law. Half vampire or not, she knew she’d be damned to hell in the end.

She took in a few breaths before peeking in. Her father, to her surprise, was not slumped in his chair but standing, he grabbed one of his forgemasters, Isaac, and threw him through his mirror. Isaac let out a scream and the mirror broke into pieces, falling on the ground.

“Father.” She spoke, walking into the room. Dracula tensed up, turning his body towards the door, bearing his fangs.

“My child, the betrayer.”

Her chest tightened, eyes wide. Betrayer? He thinks she betrayed him?

“I did no such thing.”

“Lies!” He snapped, his eyes blood red. “You walked out of this castle and turned your back on your own father!”

“Well you had already turned your back on me!” She screamed at him. “You didn’t try to make me stay! You didn’t even attempt to!”

“I knew what side you were on from the beginning. You were a lost cause.” Dracula’s voice was cold and harsh.

Tears sprouted at the corner of her eyes. “How could you even say that?! You act like you were the only one who lost someone!”

Dracula turned away from his daughter, seething with anger.

“You weren’t there! You were never there! All you’ve done was cause havoc!”

“I did it all for her!” Dracula roared, whipping around and towering his large body over hers.

“And look where that got you!” She bellowed back at him, eyes now blood red as tears streamed down her face. “Look where that got you. You pushed Alucard away, you pushed me away. Mother would never--” Her body was thrown across the room and she hit the bookshelf, falling to the ground. She wheezed out, coughing out blood. He struck her. He...struck her. Her vision was foggy, but she could make out her father standing on the other side of the room. She tried to stand up but she couldn’t, her body didn’t let her. Again she tried, but she couldn’t do it. She hadn’t had blood in such a long time, she’s grown too weak. Why she didn’t consider that going into this mess she doesn’t know, but it was a stupid mistake. Suddenly her world went dark, and she laid unconscious on the ground.

It wasn’t too long till she had woken up from her spot, her father no longer in the library. She could hear screaming from above her. She gasped, getting up as quick as she could and stumbling over herself. Alucard.

She ran and ran, going up another floor, and then another. The dhampir suddenly collided with Sypha and Belmont.

“You’re alright!” Sypha exclaimed.

“Where is he!? Where is Alucard?!”

“Upstairs, with Dracula!”

Her vampire senses tingled. His room. They were in Alucard’s old room. She bolted up the floors and down the hall. They were screaming, things were being shattered, she could feel the whole castle shake beneath her feet.

Alucard was thrown against the wall, their father closing in on him, ready to finish the job.

“ENOUGH!” His sister shrieked at the top of her lungs, stepping in between them. Her father stopped in his tracks.

There she stood, sword in both hands, pointing the tip against her own chest.

“What--What are you doing?!” Dracula bellowed.

Alucard shook his head, fear in his eyes. “No, don’t do it!”

“I’d rather kill myself than live in this world with you, you monster!”

With that, somehow Dracula had come to his senses. The night filled the room, the moonlight shining in through the window. Dracula gasped, his eyes no longer flaming with hatred, but filled with sadness. His daughter kept the sword where it was and she began to cry, hard, endless tears rushing down her pale face.

“Look what you’ve done father...” She sobbed, hands trembling.

Dracula stared at her, then at her brother, then finally his hands. “What am I doing? I....” he choked on his words. “My children, my son and daughter. I’m killing them Lisa. I’m killing our children.” He walked over to a painting that hung on the wall. It was of all of them; Dracula and Lisa, both holding their bundles of joy. He looked at his children again and truly realized how much hurt he’s caused them. How much pain he’s caused his daughter. She mourned in their home, alone, while he selfishly sought out revenge. “My daughter would rather end her life than live in a world with her father.” he looked at her, tears now running from his eyes, “These are the walls we raised them in, loved them unconditionally. These are the walls we painted, the toys we made for our son. I’m so sorry....I....what have I done?” Dracula walked over to her and took the sword out of her hands, pointing it’s sharp tip against his own chest and placing it back in her hands.

“Your greatest gifts to me, and I’m killing them.”

Alucard got up and stood next to his sister, placing his hands around hers. He wouldn’t let her do this alone.

“I must already be dead...”

Her heart pounded in her chest so hard she thought she was going to throw up. “I love you....” the girl managed to get out in a strangled cry, looking her father in the eyes. She could see it in his pleading eyes, silently begging them to put an end to his misery, to theirs and the world’s. In those quiet moments, he hoped she knew how much he truly loved her. How special she really was.

She shut her eyes tightly for a second as her and her brother drew her sword into her father’s chest. He groaned in pain, blood spilling out of his mouth as more coppery tears spilled out of his eyes.

She would forever be his little girl.

WOOOOH that was a long one! I told ya’ll I’d write some sad shit. Ok I’m gonna go cry myself to sleep now, like, comment and reblog!🥳🥳

#castlevania netflix #dracula castlevania #trevor belmont #castlevania trevor #castlevania sypha #castlevania season 2 #castlevania alucard #alucard tepes #sad angst #Dracula x daughter #lisa tepes #castlevania lisa #i’m gonna go cry now #Youtube

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

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From a past life [Yandere vampire! Romania x reader]

Synopsis: For centuries, he waited for your return--your rebirth. So when he finally learns of your whereabouts just outside of Wallachia, he rushes to meet you in hopes of becoming what you both used to be. But he runs into a predicament when he learns you're in a relationship with a man, a pesky human mortal by the name of Daniel. He'll do anything to get rid of him, even if he has to play dirty. He made a promise to you that he would find you for the rest of your lifetimes, so God forbid that he breaks it. Wordcount: 3, 813 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A trip to Romania had always been on your bucket list. Your boyfriend was just as excited to go, but he wouldn’t have been if it turned out to be the last trip you'd ever go on with him.

Today was when you would visit the highlight of your itinerary. On the Transylvania side of the border with Wallachia, and nestled in miles of rolling hills, was Bran castle. The awe-inspiring fortress told one of the most famous tales of old as Count Dracula's abode. Or at least, it was rumored to be as it fit the description of it.

Needless to say, you were dragging him around the estate to admire anything and everything that piqued your interest or served as a potential photo spot. “Oh, hurry up, Daniel! This is where he slept!” Scrambling closer to the grand bed, which was certainly framed with more wood than needed, you leaned in behind the red rope that fenced off the artifact. Then, you flashed him a wide grin.

He returned the gesture with a tender smile of his own. “I'm as old as this castle, kicsim. Let me take things in slowly.”

“You're only three years older than me. I don't think you have the right to call me little or yourself old.” Flattening your lips at that, your frown melted away as quickly as it appeared.

“But look! Dracula's sheets and mattress. Though it would make more sense to say it was Vlad's... The guy he was based on. Hmm, but that wouldn't make sense either.”

The man rubbed the nape of his neck with a soft laugh. It was no doubt he shared your enthusiasm, but your unapologetic passion always made him fall harder than he already had. “Yep. I believe he was imprisoned here. I don't think he'd be getting the master bedroom.” He appeared from behind and rested himself on your head as you placed a pistol grip on your chin.

“Even then, I can't imagine him sleeping so soundly after sticking so many sticks up people's--” Two strong arms squeezed around your waist to make you gasp.

“Ah-!”

“Okay! What do you say we go down to the gardens for a walk, hm?”

And that was exactly what the two of you did. Skipping out in front of him, you held onto his hands and swung his arms. “I'm gonna go down to the pond, okay? You can enjoy this place nice and slowly like the old person you are.”

This was the greenest garden you ever had the pleasure to stroll through, even the tea house blended in with its moss-covered roof. It only emphasized how ancient this castle really was, and something about it delighted you in ways you couldn't articulate.

“Alright, kicsim. I'll see what nice flowers I'll add to my hair.” Daniel scooped the pink blossom from his hazel brown bangs and placed it behind your ear. “When I do, I'll come get you. Don't let any vampires find you before I do.” Shooting you a wink at that, you pecked him on the nose before running off.

Who would have thought those words would ring truer than he intended? Several miles away, slept a man who was as old as Bran castle. His name too was Vlad, though he never earned such a fearsome reputation by impaling his enemies. Instead, he kept a low profile and dedicated his long, neverending life to finding someone.

Every restless night, she was what he dreamed of since her passing.

When I go, promise me you'll find me again.

Promise me.

Fluttering his eyes awake, they glowed a blood-red in the darkness of his bedroom. They drooped with a tiredness that never seemed to go away no matter how much he rested.

Sliding off the mattress, he folded the flaps of his robes tightly around his body before making his way into the halls. Every corner of this humble countryside cottage he called his home was enshrouded with shadows, and not to mention the thick coating of dust caking the top of every shelf, couch, and tabletop.

He hadn't cleaned this house for centuries. His will to try withered away through the years in his lonesome, but he was patient. Peeking through the gap between the curtains of his overgrown hair, his irises shrunk as the blinding daylight poured into them through the drapes of his living room window. He could feel it in his dead still heart.

Something had changed.

Out there in the world scorched by the sun, was something even warmer. And it was so familiar, so tender, he could not mistake it for anything else, or anybody else for that matter.

She was nearby, and the thought filled him to the brim with a joy so potent, tears of relief welled in his wide eyes. He had waited hundreds of years for this moment. For her return. Her rebirth that would usher in his own.

The prospect was so invigorating, he felt as if his heart began to beat again. He never felt so alive. Scurrying back to his bedroom, he sat in front of his vanity to access his appearance. He had to look presentable before meeting her, hadn't he? A bedhead like this and nightwear would simply not do.

Especially when he hadn't cut his hair for at least twenty years.

Giving his long locks of strawberry-blonde a thorough comb, he let it fall straight down to his lower back. With a few quick snips, he shortened his bangs by a few inches to give the impression he had some sort of control over an otherwise uncontrollable mane of hair.

As he shed himself of his robes in exchange for day clothes, a white dress shirt paired with dark plaid pants, one singular thought repeated in his head like a broken record. As morbid as it sounded, it was more of a Godsend than anything.

Death was never the end. Not for her, and not for him. Or rather, a new beginning.

But it didn't start the way he imagined. Following her sweet scent to the gardens of the famed Bran castle, he found the smell growing more and more pungent, albeit confused. It was mixed with another's, tainted by the stench of a human male. His irises thinned to slits, and he tensed up all over. How could this be?

Hiding behind a tree, he peered over the side to confirm his suspicion.

There she was, her beauty as pristine and untouched as the last time he loved her. For just one second, he was over the moon. But his euphoria was short-lived when he saw that she was with a man. Kissing him, even. Even though it was just on the nose, any further down her face would have caused him to start an apocalypse.

That insignificant, trifling, and scheming little creature. He was about to reap what he sowed. How dare he take his place? It was him she was meant to with, not that pesky mortal!

Whipping his head to the front, his eyes went round with disbelief and his breathing grew ragged. An unfathomable ache spread in his chest as he dug his nails into the bark. How could he have let this happen? It took every shred of his willpower to keep the waterworks at bay.

His throbbing heart was also weighed down with a pang of heavy guilt. To allow another soul to be this close to her was a grave disservice to the promise he made. But that didn't mean he couldn't undo this.

In just a few seconds, he formulated an intricate plan to carry out well-deserved revenge. To have her in his arms again, and him, out of the picture where he belonged. In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder. When he spun around, he grabbed him by the neck and caught him in a trance with his hypnotizing, inhuman gaze.

“You will give these flowers to the nearest young woman you see. Put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” Opening his own palm, he materialized three peonies before placing them in the other's.

Unable to escape the powerful snare cast by a vampire such as himself, Daniel did so as told. “I will give these flowers to the nearest young woman I see. I will put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” He reiterated monotonously with his eyes glazed over.

Watching the helpless man saunter off, he smirked devilishly as he exchanged glances with his long-lost lover. This would hurt her a great deal, but she would only be devastated if he never did it.

You had been watching the pond, completely ignorant to the scene that was about to unfold. Little did you know, it was purposely orchestrated. Using a stick to prod at your reflection, you lingered on the ripples distorting it before glancing up. In the distance was none other than your boyfriend, and judging from the pink in his hands, he found his flowers.

So you stood up. You would have snuck up on him as a surprise, but your feet remained firmly planted on the ground when you witnessed him give it away, then flirt with another woman. It couldn't be mistaken for anything else. He was kissing her!

Frankly, you couldn't believe it. One year was all it took for him to lose interest? Blood flushed your face as bile rose in your throat. How could he? And during a vacation at that, too! Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, but you blinked them away when you heard the light treading of feet nearby.

This had to be a misunderstanding. Right?

Spinning to the source, you found yourself staring at the most peculiar man you had ever seen. He carried a delicate parasol to shade him from the sunlight. Combined with his pasty white skin, it was almost as if he was one of the very mythological creatures the country was renowned for.

He smiled gently, almost understandingly.

“Are you alright, domnișoară? I have a spare handkerchief if you'd like.” His alluring voice was as bewitching as a siren, but his mere presence brought you unspeakable comfort. And yet, he was nothing but a stranger, an odd one at that, so you were at a loss to realize that all it took for you to gravitate towards him was for your eyes to meet.

“I'm okay, thank you. But I couldn't possibly accept something like that. I mean, I don't know you...” Waving your hands at the man apologetically, you took the opportunity to scan him up and down.

As if he walked right out of a fairytale, he oozed prince-like charm. His clothes were traditional and refined, but that long, silky hair of his was certainly a rare sight--rare but breathtakingly beautiful. It gave his character untold notions of grandeur, mystery, and an inexplicable impression he was ancient.

But that couldn't be, not when he didn't look a day over twenty.

“What do you mean, you won't take it? It's yours.” He pulled out a small piece of fabric from his sleeve. Placing the finely embroidered cloth into your palm, he never gave you the chance to object. “It would be rude to regift something, so you'll have to keep it forever.” Mischief curled at his lips, and you couldn't help but laugh a little.

“Alright, alright, you got me there.”

You dabbed away the moisture before breathing out a sigh.

“I'm sure you're a very nice person, but I can't bother you more than I already have. Thank you, again, Mr. Vampire.” If it weren't for how heartbroken you were, you would have been mortified. Being pitied by a Romanian local was never part of your plan.

Just when you were betrayed by Daniel, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. If only you could forget what happened between you and your boyfriend. Otherwise, you would be bragging about meeting a vampire in Romania for as long as you could talk.

“Mr. Vampire?” He lifted his head before revealing a pair of sharp fangs in a grin. Now that caught you off guard. “You don't see me calling you miss human--and I have a name, thank you very much.” As he placed his gloved hand on his chest to playfully feign offense, he bit back another smile at the sound of your amused giggling.

Despite what happened a few minutes ago, talking to this actor was making you feel better already.

“And let me guess, is it Alucard?” You shook your head. “Or is it Vlad? You can't possibly call yourself Dracula looking like that.”

He blinked incredulously, then curved an arm over his face as if to cover himself with his non-existent cloak. “How did you know?”

“That your name is Alucard?”

“No, Vlad.”

“Okay, close enough. It was nice meeting you, Vlad, but I have a stupid boyfriend to scream at.” At the mention of that, you looked like you were on the verge of tears again. “All I'm hoping is that he's still my boyfriend after this. If only he were as much of a gentleman as you.”

He reflected your distress in a frown, and you would have been surprised by how much this apparently bothered him. But you already walked off. So he offered one last niceity before you strayed too far. “Good luck with your boyfriend.”

“No promises.”

He let those two words affect him more than he intended. Needless to say, he moved on quickly to watch you run to the unsuspecting brunette. Soon, his anguish was staved off by the sight of you shoving him back a few steps.

What looked like a one-sided argument broke out, and all the poor, confused man could do was just that--be confused. Shortly after, you stormed off, and he jogged behind, desperately calling your name.

A sinister smile cracked at Vlad's lips, and his irises glowed red. That little thing had no idea what was yet to happen to him.

That night, Daniel took you to the Brașov city hall for dinner. The beautiful buildings surrounding a fountain were as traditional as they were clean. Too bad your zeal was burned away by your anger. In the few hours in the hotel before, he barely managed to soothe it by explaining himself. A given, considering his explanation made no sense whatsoever.

He couldn't remember flirting with a woman.

“I think we could share a pizza. Are you okay with that?” Lifting his gaze to meet yours, you only turned away to stare out the window into the endless night. Your spaciness was deserved on his part, but little did he know, it only had so much to do with his wrongdoings.

The eccentric local never left your mind. After all, he gave you something to smile about with his whimsical kindness.

Vlad must have been an entertainer, a virtuoso at that, but his actions never came off as ingenuine. To be frank, you were drawn to his sincerity, and even looking for him subconsciously, wishing that he could magically appear because you willed it.

If only Daniel could be just as sincere.

“I must be okay with a lot of things.” His face fell. The same sorrow from when he was at the hotel room returned, but you couldn't care to give it any attention. “Like you pretending you didn't kiss someone right in front of me because you don't remember. I'm not stupid. Who else would have long hair tied back and flowers in their fringe?”

Daniel knitted his brows so tightly together, creases formed between them. “... I know it sounds like I'm lying, but I swear to you I didn't do it. You know me, (F/N).” At this point, he hadn't the foggiest what to say to appease you because he simply didn't do it. “I promise. All I'm asking is for you to trust me.”

“You promise?” You fumed.

There was only one thing you hated more than a liar.

“I trusted you, Daniel, I really did. But how could you ask me to trust you after I talked to that girl? She remembered it, so why can't you? Did you think I was that crazily into you I could let anything slide?” The biting truth silenced him, but it was the sound of you choking back tears that broke his heart.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom to think this over.”

He had no way to argue with you, let alone the heart to when it was just broken and crushed to a thin slab of flesh. What if he really did kiss someone, and miraculously forgot?

“When I come back, I better not see you kissing anybody again.”

Standing up at that, he watched you leave with a defeated expression. Then, he folded his arms across the table and buried his face into it. There was no way he could fail that, could he?

What were the odds of kissing someone again when he had absolutely no intention to? The chances were dwindling at zero as he kept his head down. Unless supernatural forces were at work, nothing could get him to budge from sitting at this table.

But even he couldn't count on the world of the mundane to save him.

Sitting a few tables away was the exact opposite of mundane. When the front door slammed shut, he stood up and walked to the customer with their head down. While all the men in the establishment wore their hair short, his was long and flowing like time itself. There was something other-worldly about him. Something ghostly in the way he walked.

With every step he took, his feet never seemed to touch the ground as if he was floating. And his pale complexion was just as macabre as how he carried himself.

Not a minute passed, and Daniel found himself standing outside by the fountain. With absolutely no recollection, he somehow left the restaurant and wound up here in the festive courtyard. As shock paralyzed him from head to toe, the only thought that occurred to him was this. What in the hell was going on?

Rather than sitting head down in the warm restaurant, he was out here, chilled by the biting European cold. Couldn't he have at least remembered the transition?

In front of him was the same woman he supposedly flirted with in the gardens. And judging from the blush on her cheeks, he just threw away all his chances at making up with you.

“Listen, I... I don't know you. Forget me. Forget this ever happened.” Daniel trembled, feeling a chill run down his spine as he staggered back a few steps. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. There was just no sound explanation for this when this situation wasn't sound at all. Whatever it was, this was clearly a case of sabotage.

And like hell he was giving in to whoever that masterminded it.

He ran back inside with a fearful kind of urgency. Rushing back to the table he unwillingly abandoned, he froze when he saw you marching towards him down the aisle with murder on your mind. But death was too lenient a punishment. It would grant him a clean slate, a new beginning from a past life of unfaithfulness.

So he was splashed with a glass of red wine instead.

As the crimson liquid soaked his hair, it spread over his shirt like blood. After you saw what he did, the last shred of hope you didn't know you had died, squelched out there on his clothes for the world to see. A chorus of gasps was heard from every corner of the restaurant. Unbeknownst to the patrons who murmured amongst themselves, it wasn't just any lover's quarrel they were watching.

Daniel's breath hitched as he struggled to process his mortification. Behind you stood the very gentleman that tapped him awake, but he never made the connection between him and his misfortunes.

And perhaps, it was better that way.

After leaving your boyfriend for good, Vlad offered to walk with you around the city. Once again, he had swooped in to save you, only this time around, he was staying.

“So... What are you gonna do now?” He asked, casting a tender gaze your way. Before you could wrap your arms around yourself, he beat you to it and flung his cloak around your body. When you gawked at him, he only grinned toothily with his fangs.

Your cheeks reddened and you turned away. Why he was still in his vampire getup was beyond you. But seeing his enthusiasm only reminded you that you lost yours. “... Book another hotel room. Spend the rest of this holiday crying. Maybe never think of this country ever again.”

“And I'm not letting you do any of those things.” He hummed, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Why do you think I'm walking with you right now, hm? I'm gonna take you around to the best spots in Transylvania. The most haunted ones, I mean. So you can forget about going back to the hotel.”

You sighed but managed a small smile. “That's great and all, but I'm not made of money. And my stuff is all there.”

He squinted. “... Oh yeah. But after we get your stuff, we can go elsewhere, can't we?”

A few laughs fell from your lips. His generosity really knew no bounds. “Your house, then? You do realize I only met you today, right?”

Vlad closed his eyes. He could beg to differ.

“But you're still walking with me alone. In the dark.”

“Only because you saw me cry twice today. I wouldn't be mad if you killed me so I don't have to be so embarrassed.” He frowned at the sound of that, so you added this. “I was just kidding. Something about you just makes me feel... Strangely comfortable. Like I've met you before. Isn't that weird?”

“... Not really.” Reaching the top of a hill, he stared at an old castle in the distance, sitting high up in the mountains. “There's a legend about this city. Hundreds of years ago, a vampire and a human woman fell in love. She died, of course. But people say he's still around, waiting for her to reincarnate so they can be together again.”

The way he spoke was so sad, it was almost as if he was that very vampire himself. But what did that have to do with you?

“... Okay. Then do you think he'll ever find her?”

Vlad turned to you with an unreadable expression, but there was an untold fondness in how he looked at you.

“He already has.”

114 notes · View notes

greensaplinggrace · 3 years

Text

Castlevania Fanfiction Recommendations

Wellspring (Complete) Trephacard

Wellspring (n): Where something begins.

Trevor’s been throwing rocks and coins and shit into wells for most of his life, without any expectation of getting wishes granted or anything stupid like that. All he really wants is to know there's something down there.

Baba (Complete) Trephacard

Deep in the wilds, mysterious things wander through the lands on mysterious trails. Dracula isn't the only legend that walks their earth.

In stumbling across an abandoned village that seems too good to be true, Trevor stumbles across himself, too. Lucky for him and the lives of the countrymen riding on his success, Alucard and Sypha are there to pick him up.

Every Horse Movie (Epilogue) (Complete) Trephacard

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Walpurgisnacht (Complete) Trephacard

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Flirtation ensues.

Moon River (Complete) Trephacard

Trevor falls into a river.

Which normally, you know, wouldn't be so bad for the monster hunter, except it's the middle of the night. In winter. And instead of falling he may have been pushed in by an enemy vampire

.......yeah, this might be bad

Ten Second Tidy (Incomplete - 12/13) Trephacard

After everything, there is the cleanup.

Understandings (Complete) Trephacard

Trevor had thought he'd understood, what the three of them meant to each other, what they were becoming. Or he'd hoped.

Whiter Fang (Incomplete - 9/10) Trevorcard

Trevor finds an injured wolf in the woods. He can’t just... leave it.

Or: The timeline in which Trevor and Sypha find an empty coffin under Gresit but wind up meeting Alucard anyway.

an evening’s rest (Complete) Trephacard

“Oh, Trevor,” says Alucard, as he settles into the armchair by the fire, “you’re awake. Good. Sypha and I were just talking about you.”

“You were?” says Trevor, not quite sure whether to be concerned or excited by the prospect. Alucard and Sypha being the way they are, it’s fifty-fifty as to whether this conversation is going to end in spectacularly inventive sex, or with the pair of them giving him the silent treatment until he agrees to actually cut his hair for once, or replace his boots just because half the sole is missing on one of them, or god knows what else. He lives in fear of the day they decide he needs to learn how to darn socks.

Adrian’s Amazing Adventure (Incomplete - 7/9) Trepha

In which Adrian is a brat and way too smart for anyone’s good, Trevor is confused but he’s also too well trained for his own good, Dracula may not be capable of getting a heart attack but that doesn’t stop him from trying, Sypha swears she is the only one with a functioning brain around here, and Lisa schemes like a proper Lady of the Night.

Or: Adrian activates his father’s transmission mirror, ends up in unfamilliar woods and adopts a hunter. Everyone else just has to deal with it.

Blind Date with a Belmont (Complete) Trevorcard

If there was one constant in Adrian's life, it was this: Belmonts could never be trusted.

It'd been twelve years since they'd abruptly stopped hunting Adrian's family. His parents had never explained why the pact was formed, but after more than a decade of peace, Adrian finally learned to stop looking over his shoulder. Life in a small town, working in his mother's bookstore, was quiet and simple, if sometimes a bit dull.

Then a new Belmont entered the picture: less threatening than he should be, with dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a baffling interest in Adrian's newly proposed Blind Date with a Book display.

From birth, Adrian had been taught to fear the Belmonts. Somehow, this one was different.

We’ll Have Ourselves a Merry Christmas, One Way or Another (Complete) Trephacard

Adrian is feeling down about the holidays after having a fight with his father about his relationship with Trevor and Sypha. His partners are supportive in their own ways and Lisa Tepes talks some sense into her husband behind the scenes.

dirty paws (Complete) Trevorcard

Trevor befriends a wolf.

Honorary Family (Complete) Trevorcard

Trevor is only twelve when his family and home are burned and taken away from him, a month on his own in the wilderness is harder than it sounds when a kid is in that mindset. One desperate night he plans to steal some food and medicine from a home and ends up intervening when Lisa is being threatened by the church and saves her life but is taken in her place.

After almost being burned himself Trevor wakes up in the famous Dracula castle being taken care of, he bonds with Lisa quickly but has a harder time learning to trust Dracula and Adrian due to his upbringing. Or in which Trevor saves Lisa and ends up being semi-adopted by the Tepes family, he and Adrian have an odd relationship. They get at each other's throats but are also partners in crime a lot of the time. It might take Trevor a while to figure out what exactly this feeling is that isn't quite brothership but is definitely more than just friends.

Righting Wrongs (Complete) Trevorcard

Trevor stumbles through the area of Târgoviște, right in time to witness Lisa being accused of witchcraft. He doesn't take kindly to that. And the Țepeș family does not forget their debts.

A Parental Predicament (Complete) Trevorcard

Adrian is bringing home his boyfriend to meet his parents. There's just one tiny problem: his boyfriend is a descendant of a notorious monster-hunting family, and his father is Dracula.

It goes about as well as you would expect.

end of sanctuary (Complete) Trephacard

With the help of psychological magic, Trevor and Sypha enter into Alucard's dream world in order to help him confront his trauma, guilt, and other personal demons while also reevaluating their own relationship to him.

The Threat of Explosion (Complete) Isaac/Hector

Isaac acts decisively to keep Hector from siding with Carmilla.

A.K.A. The seduction of Hector or Isaac thinks Hector deserves nice things.

Good Gloaming (Complete) Isaac/Hector

“Ah,” Isaac sighs when they first meet. “You’re the other Forgemaster.”

He says “other” the way most people say “pig shit,” but Hector’s tired from traveling and he doesn’t really think much about it until he’s gotten lost for the third time in an hour, in the same wing of the castle—following the directions that Isaac gave him.

In Memoriam (Complete) Gen & Trephacard

Trevor Belmont's family died when he was 12. He's spent quite a lot of time running from it since then. Lying to himself.

“But you know that the word Teloch means of death, right?”

Maybe, maybe it's time to stop.

Deliverance (Incomplete - 35/?) Trephacard

Adrian is beginning to think that Wallachia will be a smoking pile of ash long before he, Trevor, and Sypha can stop Dracula’s war on humanity. They’ve been chasing the castle for months, but each time they get close, it vanishes. Traveling with such genuine and trustworthy allies has been unexpectedly pleasant; Adrian doesn’t mind that Trevor and Sypha are involved with each other, but he is taken entirely by surprise when they open their relationship to him one evening.

Hopelessly in over his head, his heart keeps urging him forward, even when he’s forced to confront the darkest aspects of his nature. Adrian must learn to swallow his pride and let himself be vulnerable if he wants a chance at happiness. Unfortunately, there isn’t much time for looking within when the world is drenched in blood and magic, and the path to victory may destroy him completely.

With Broken Words I’ve Tried To Say (Complete) Trevorcard

In which Alucard sends a letter to Sypha, but ends up corresponding with Trevor instead.

The Shops On Morning Street (Complete) Trevorcard

Trevor Belmont, former monster hunter and current florist, is tasked with looking into the proprietor of the new tattoo parlor across the street, much to his annoyance.

What he finds is Adrian Ţepeş, current half-vampire, current tattoo artist, and a whole lot more than Trevor bargained for.

257 notes · View notes

friggsdc · 3 years

Text

Title: little delinquent pt iii

part ii | part iii | part iv

Warnings: Female!reader (bat!sis), mostly family fluff, AU, hurt/comfort, Jason’s language

Word Count: 4700~

Synop: It had Bruce and Dick sharing a look for a moment before the latter spoke up, “It’s not like I’m against continuing to expand the family, but…” he eyed the child you held nervously, “please don’t start bringing home every child you find…” he tilted his head, “he’s bad enough.” Bruce settled a light glare at his first son (that definitely wasn’t what Bruce was thinking), though Dick was stilled by the way your eyes narrowed at him instead.

“His name is Terrence,” that was all you said, brushing past as they were suddenly on guard at the inherited Wayne-scowl on your face.

A/N: tbh I cut the last chapter in two, this is the second half ee;;;; but I rewrote it to be it’s own chapter tho haha. Hum… this doesn’t pick up exactly where the last chapter ended, but it’s still all here. c’: Also, if you wear glasses, just know grumpy ol’ Bruce would probably force contacts on you in public (he’d see them as more ‘professional,’ and glasses as a danger/hazard in the field). Glasses are for home only sighs.

Ngl I see lexcorp similar to westworld’s delos, lotsa fancy designs ee;;;; Cadmus like nasa test rooms, clinical as heck with little to no windows, and wayne ent with Alien franchise’s archaic but advanced spaceship tech, or dracula’s castle with cubicles lmao

“Hey, Jaybird…”

Normally he knew what to expect, normally he’d open the door braced for a tackle, so when the rush of wind never came, he was at a bit of a loss. There you were, dressed like Bruce for some irritating reason. A size-too-big of a jacket, zipped up over a uselessly thin black turtleneck, a pair of black gloves, pants covering everything, and a pair of black lace-less… boots… with red… soles…?, and a suspiciously familiar-looking kid in your arms…

There was a slight guilty look on your face as you gauged his reaction, he could tell, you were nervous.

Wait.

He eyed the kid something scary, his voice grounding out, “so, who do I have to murder?”

“You weren’t gone that long, you know.” Snorting, you pushed past him into the small safe house, frowning at the bareness of it all before situating Terrence on the floor mattress. “How you sleep on this thing is beyond me…” he just shrugged, “too used to it? Answer the question,” he pointed at the kid while closing the door, “who?”

Agitated.

“Terrence,” said child was looking around, but there was only so much that would grab his attention, as empty as the room was.

“His name is Terrence, and he’s no one else’s, he’s… mine.”

“You just said it hasn’t been that damned long—” his frustration was building; he wasn’t liking where this was going, not that you were aware which direction his head was headed at the moment, you’d just gotten here.

You shook your head, “don’t tell me you…” his anger settled into a dark scowl, but you refused to look at him, “you can’t seriously bring more kids into that fucking prison.” He was so conflicted, it was you, but you were still a Wayne. It scared him to think of more children stuck in that lonely mansion, becoming bitter like he had.

You remembered what Dick had said days earlier when he first saw the child,

“Jason—” you began, a slight warning to your tone.

He didn’t care,

“Don’t be like Bruce.”

His voice was so cold.

Terrence had crawled his way over to the legs of the table in the makeshift kitchen, eyes on a prize as he began trying to figure out how a chair worked.

“You know, that actually hurt.”

You didn’t hate your father like Jason projected, but you knew the way he spoke about him, the way he expressed his feelings, that he ‘hated’ him. It was a half-truth, you knew. Jason preferred not hurting you, next to Alfred, you were more tolerable than the other family members.

Somedays Tim and Dick made that list. Somedays.

But that didn’t mean he was actively trying to be kind, he wanted it to stab.

Petty. Resentful. Haunted.

He went to say more, but stopped, fists shaking slightly from anger.

You were staring him down, that same look of disappointment Bruce would give him when he made an obviously stupid decision, as if he were still a Robin in training. Like your father, you could read him like an open book when you tried, it made him feel vulnerable, guilty, small.

Fucking frustrated.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he was at a loss for words, “…shit.” He turned away from you, coming back to the moment as he tried to reign in his temper, “it’s just…”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

Instead of continuing to argue the point, too used to his outbursts (Alfred and your family primed you too well for dealing with the unstable emotions of others), you walked over and wrapped your arms around him, head resting on his clothed chest, “missed you, Jay.”

Almost hesitantly, his arms returned the hug, his head burying itself in your hair, “sorry…” he breathed out, almost too quiet. He was tense as you pulled back a bit, reaching up to grab his face in your gloved hands as you leaned up on your toes, pulling his head down to yours. You touched your forehead to his, making certain to be gentle, “Honestly, it’s okay Jay. I forgive you, okay?”

“Cold,” his hands cupped your (oddly chilled) gloved ones, eyes searching your face before he shifted, head nodding slightly, rubbing yours. A heavy sigh escaped him, an awkward smile forming, “so, how’s my cutest little sister been?”

Glad that he was trying to get past his guilt, you shook your head, “a roller coaster. Dad’s upset at me.”

He just snorted in amusement, relaxing a little as you continued, “And how was California? The Titans? I miss Kory…” you blinked at his flat expression, “what? You were at the Tower, right? With Kory and Roy, and the others?”

Wow you ruined the moment fast.

“Aaaand that’s where you stop being cute. I swear this family is full of creepers. I think Dick’s the only normal one,” you tilted your head as he kept his hands firmly on your shoulders. “Honestly, you and Tim are terrifying, your brother is a demon, and I don’t even want to describe Bruce.”

“Glad you didn’t include yourself in that, zomboy,” he groaned, “that’s hurtful,” then he pouted, finally getting a good look at you.

Terrence was old enough to stand on his two legs as he held onto the chair, but he kept stumbling as he moved uncertainly. His eyes were focused on his mission as he started trying to climb further up.

Something clicked in the back of Jason’s brain, sudden realization dawning, “what…” you sighed, his hand moving from your shoulder, “is this…?” You refused to meet his stare as his fingers hooked on the zipper of your jacket, “uhm…” you flushed as he pulled it down, a bright red bat in his face.

There was a sudden sparkle in his eyes.

“Huh, didn’t expect you to be that much of a fan.” You were burning from head to toe now, refusing to look at him at all, rubbing the back of your neck with a thick swallow. “That… that’s kind of the problem…”

“What, that you’re walking around with my colors?” His grin seemed disappointed, but turned a bit more concerned at the frown you leveled at him, “it… let me explain… I think I need help…”

“Definitely gonna need explanations. A lot of them.” The kid was one thing, this outfit was another. He made to sit down, and you followed, leaving Terrence to his own devices for the moment.

It’s not like there was much trouble to get into, everything of worth or danger was out of his reach.

“…yeah.”

“…”

“What is it?”

“…Why’d you think I slept with someone? When you first saw Terrence in my arms?”

He leaned away from you, chin resting on his palm, propped up on the arm of the couch with his elbow, “I’m your brother, and he looks like… it’s… I’m supposed to get upset about that… just… answer…” he did his best to keep a straight face, but eventually he had to turn away, looking at the wall, ears burning.

“Hm…?” you leaned towards him and he didn’t have to look at you to know you had a less than innocent smile on right now.

“Creep.”

You just laughed as you leaned into his side, causing him to crack a small smile, still not looking at you.

[“So… How to start this…”]

[“The suit, first, Terry after.”]

[“Terry?”]

[“The kid. Just explaaaaain already, uuugh I have patrol in a few hours…”]

[A heavy sigh, “Okay, then... So, you know how Lex helps fund the Society’s shenanigans?”]

[“…oh.”]

[“Yeah.”]

When it came to most places, breaking and entering was always easier at night, but for the LexCorp building? Nighttime came with problems, it came with heightened security, rigorous control, and the easy ability to spot something that was out of place. There was also your youngest brother who had filled you in on his adventures with Jon once, not a single detail of the LexCorp building having been left out; he was a thorough kid.

It was far easier to infiltrate during the day, the number of staff on the security team, the cliques of scientists and researchers, and the average workers meandering about made it easy to blend. You had donned a pair of (older prototype) smart glasses, normal from the viewer’s perspective, an integrative matrix mapping AI system from the wearer’s. Well, it could do more, but this was what you needed, the constant reconstruction of old building plans for more accuracy as you walked around.

Tim’d made some amazing things over the years, such as his matrix encryption to keep your work phone quiet, scrambling any noticeable connections that could be traceable. But this one was probably the coolest in your opinion, and he had yet to see the return of said glasses since you wouldn’t give them up, and he could never find where you’d put them. The glasses were a useful subtle change from the norm, a quick disguise, the security barely giving you a glance-over as you entered the passcode for the ID tag you wore, walking into the building.

With a slight wave from you, and a “Good Afternoon!” from them, getting in the backdoor was always the easy part. There were two more women next to you chatting in excitement and you made to stick close to them, parting only when you came upon the women’s locker rooms. The badge number Tim’d tracked down for you was useful until it wasn’t, Lex’s problem was needing levels three and above extensive background checks on anyone hired, and Tim knew exactly where to look.

[“Like I said, terrifying.”]

[“You do the same thing.”]

[“That’s a bit above my paygrade, usually I ask Tim for help when I need information from behind top-of-the-line security walls.”]

[“Oh.”]

[“Yeah.”]

Next was invasion of personal privacy and property, and a lot of it. You’d have felt worse if it weren’t for having been raised this way, “you’ll find out that people are just that, some sick and twisted, some happy and kind-hearted, but in the end, we’re all the same. Eventually, nothing will surprise you,” your father would say.

It didn’t take long, going through a few lockers and purses, letting your glasses do most of the work. They were able to see in a three-dimensional matrix, constantly being constructed behind most any material or metal. There were plenty of lab coats in varying sizes to choose from, and you spotted one badge and wondered who the dumdum was. You had plenty of electromagnetic strips for your ID if you needed a switch, but it seemed unnecessary. Some people left their everything when they clocked out, too.

You’d secured your purse around your stomach and under your shirt, the bulge flattened at your side, tying the ends in place. It would uncomfortably dig into you, but you couldn’t leave it behind and it would only be for a short time.

No one had paid you any mind, too busy rushing to get in and out of the locker rooms, and you made to escape with a group of women in the same coats as yourself. The group and yourself came to an elevator, and you let them do all the work. One of them scanning their ID for the group, the rest blurting out the number of the floor they needed to get to, and yourself joining in. A strange calm settling as you got more into the coworker attitude.

Seventh level Research and Development wing.

[“Not his office?”]

[“Why?”]

[“I dunno, there’s probably some terrible top-secret info in there.”]

[“I mean, I was on the main R&D floor, how much more top secret can you get?”]

[“Touché.”]

The entire R&D area was made up of floor to ceiling glass window dividers, a white and chromatic color scheme, and a lot of tightly sealed doors. You honestly didn’t even need the glasses to find the head researcher’s office, it was written in huge bold letters next to the dumb door on a plaque.

Weaving through a few people with their eyes busy reading clipboards and cellphones, you eyed each inch of the floor, and wondered if the other stock standard R&D floors at LexCorp were similar. No one paid you any mind as you stood in front of the group of office doors, all packed neatly in a little corner, and each leading to a different R&D office. They were mostly empty, only one occupied, most of the techbros and techgals were out and about doing work.

Again, the glasses did the decoding work for you, getting you the set of numbers you needed to enter the room. Unlike the rest of the lab, this office had less windows, though the few it did have were still large. Though they faced out rather than in, and it also wasn’t as large and as roomy as you’d have imagined. The Wayne R&D offices being waaay bigger in comparison.

Taking out two small flash drives, you shoved the sticks into the lone computer on the desk, booted it up, and just let them do their thing. Having the computer start with the flash drive, it acted as an executable program, letting it bypass any needed passcodes or security clearance for now.

One for unlocking the system, the other for information storage.

No doubt someone will notice that.

You wondered briefly if this was how the Cyborg felt, only ever having gotten to see him briefly before he utterly devastated an entire operating system. He then rebuilt it to his preferences, all in the matter of seconds. Tim had always lamented not getting to watch when you described it.

Notably, it was quite lovely how LexCorp’s researchers had everything organized in a folder subsystem so well. You were able to track down the needed information in less than a few minutes through the root directory.

Gotta be faster.

However, as you stared at the processing bar on your information download, there wasn’t a whole lot to do. Clicking the monitor’s sleep button to dim any light, you stood up and strode over to the door.

Being the lookout for a computer program was a new one.

[“Pfff.”]

[He snickered behind his palm as you smacked him on the shoulder.]

[“At least you got in without needing to hack anything yourself. Get dunked on, Dick, Damian.”]

[Light laughter echoed.]

Nothing had happened by the time the computer let out a small ding, indicating the download had finished. With both flash drives now pocketed, you turned to the next problem: getting out.

It really shouldn’t have been that hard, it was so stupidly easy to get in, thank you new temporary coworkers, but as you eyed the group of security detail by the elevator, you made a hard turn to the side.

Had you gone through the front doors instead of the employee entrance, you would have seen a ton of security. Through the back however, they really were only at certain check points, it’s not like just anyone could get in. So of course, there was no way they would have been able to get so far as the head office of any department.

How long had you been gone from the others? How long did you still have on Tim’s encryptions?

Oh heck.

The options were now trying to squeeze by the security, which was doubtful, they were checking everyone, or figure out a way to base jump without any gear. Neither option sounded appealing, you had no wings or grappling hooks with you, and it was still midday.

The corridor you turned into went from full on glass to a partition supporting windows, half and half, split horizontally to allow for more privacy, probably.

This was also exactly where you didn’t want to be.

Frick.

Most of the rooms looked like chemistry labs, charts everywhere, huge gravity convection and forced-air ovens, and thermo-freezers that looked like they belonged in meat markets. It was almost overwhelming at how cool some of these things looked as you searched for an exit. So filled with anxiety and adrenaline as you were, you almost missed it out of the corner of your eye. It was the red shimmering of a glass bowl on your face that made you notice it, the barely-there stream of sun that caught it just right.

You wasted no time getting to work, the door just as easy as the others, passcodes, they were all passcodes. Where were the fingerprint and retina scanners? Hell, where was the facial recognition scanners? You’d come prepared for so much, so you were incredibly confused at the lax security features. But again, this wasn’t the ground floor and security clearance was stricter this far in, your badge did most of the infiltration for you.

Was your dad that paranoid that now, so were you?

[“The civi world is full of sub-par idiots.”]

[“You sound like Dami.]

[“Gross.”]

[“…it’s uncanny, really, he said the same thing.”]

[“Shit.”]

The room looked similar to the others, less windows, more wall, plenty of graphs and charts, but there were a few different things as well. A few of which you pocketed; the only expensive looking laptop was also grabbed straight off a table to the side of your quarry.

The most notable thing however was glaring you boldly in the face, all black and a giant red bat on the chest.

A batsuit.

[“Yeah, I’m gonna want to know why baldy even had this thing.”]

[“Tim’s going through the drives right now, Dami dropped them off…”]

[“Damn.”]

Why did Lex have a batsuit? Where did he get it from, or did he help develop it? Terrence was part of all this, and what about your fa… the Batman? Why was Cadmus part of all this? Why was Lex? Were there more suits? More clo— children?

Shit shit shitshitshitshi—

To say you were freaking out a bit was an understatement.

Hearing heavy footsteps, you panicked and grabbed the garment from behind it’s glass case and took a dive behind the nearest desk. They hadn’t come in yet, they hadn’t gotten to this room, there was still time, but… still time to what?

You eyed the suit in your hands, it’s size horribly different from your own body type (but you could probably still fit it) and you decided to make a really dumb decision then and there.

You were gonna get caught regardless, might as well suit up and try to fight your way out. If you were lucky, you could get out of this without ruining your father’s reputation (or Batman’s identity.)

You began stripping behind the desk, fully intent on donning the batsuit. If nothing else, these things usually came with masks, even though you hadn’t seen a single one near it.

The moment you pulled the fabric over your legs, heels sliding effortlessly into the red soles, you watched almost in amazement as the fabric melted to your skin, reshaping to fit you. There was going to be a lot of bagginess in the suit when you wore it, a lot of tightness in weird places, too, and it had looked fitted to a larger male. So you hadn’t expected the suit to fit perfectly on purpose. It even had a built-in utility belt. Suddenly you were a bit giddy.

Again, what the hell was Lex Luthor doing?

“So freaking cool.”

The material felt almost like a second skin, there was also no sensory loss from wearing it, you could feel the floor as if you were barehanded.

You’d never thought about it before, but now you couldn’t take your mind off Dick and his skintight suit. You felt almost nude in this suit, not used to something showing everything off like it was.

Did Dick enjoy this?

Your ears burned brightly as you finished suiting up, no longer able to think about a large portion of superheroes and villains.

How could you ever face some of them again?

How could you ever look Dick in the eyes again?

“Oh no…”

Perverts. All of them.

[Loud laughter.]

[A very red face.]

You had to admit though, it was so much cooler than your heavier and bulkier recon gear. It didn’t weigh you down and the sensory adaptation was something you’d never come across before. Speaking of, reaching up, you took the glasses off to get a clear view of your surroundings and immediately regretted it.

The suit seemed to come to life on it’s own as something came out of nowhere, engulfing your head in complete darkness.

A silent scream, too terrified to let out any sound.

You about died then and there.

The suit wasn’t that cool anymore.

Without missing a beat and calming your fears of being bagged or worse, the darkness faded, and you could see your surroundings. Blinking for a moment to adjust, you tried to get your bearings on what the hell just happened, your hand gingerly coming up to feel your face.

[Booting...]

Were you hearing things or did the suit just...?

Unfortunately, that was the exact moment the door to the room you were in opened, and you panicked. It was a dead-end room, you weren’t as good at fighting as your brothers, and the security here could be scary when hunting down an intruder.

Stupid Lex.

Without thinking, you grabbed your things now bundled up in the labcoat like a bag, slung it over your shoulder, and bolted towards one of the windows looking out.

You were so used to recon jobs that you hadn’t taken into consideration that you had none of your gear (but your brothers did this kind of stupid thing constantly, so you’d be okay, right?).

You were too caught up in the moment.

You hadn’t heard the sound, mind too blank, but the glass falling around you was enough indication of just what you had done.

Base jumping it was.

You were in a batsuit, after all.

Falling seven stories was terrifying, but definitely brought you back to reality. Securing the makeshift bag on your back, tied around your neck, you began thinking as fast as you could. Claws? The suit had them, you had noticed, but you were too far from the building, having jumped a distance, then... The suit had a built-in utility belt, right? Maybe there was something useful in one of the —

[Servo-Motors engage…]

[Checking system function…]

[Loading protocol…]

…huh?

[84 feet till impact.]

…wait—

[75 feet till impact.]

“Yeah I see that.”

[71 feet till impact.]

“Thanks.” Sarcasm, “What else can you tell me other than my unfortunate demise at the hands of gravity?”

[Thrusters not online.]

[68 feet till impact.]

[Grappling gun unavailable.]

[Batarang lines unavailable.]

[67 feet till impact.]

[Retractable wings availa—]

“Yes, that one, wings, please! Wait… thrusters?” you had little time as your whole body suddenly started tumbling, a set of red wings expanding between your arms and the sides of your torso. “Shitshitsh—” and then you were gliding, your arms having spread on their own from the force of the fall. “Oh… Oh my…”

The suit was cool again, “Dang this is… nice… Like a bird or… him.” You reeeaaallllly didn’t want to chance him hearing you say his name.

You wanted to try this higher up now, in a sea of clouds… It was like floating, an almost weightless feeling taking over. The wind currents were a bit to get used to, but it wasn’t terrible, having imagined it would be worse higher up, in them dang fluffy clouds... sigh.

[23 feet till landing.]

The suit helped guide you to an area with less people, something akin to your own Gotham alleyways (to a point, Metropolis’ worst streets were like Gotham’s safest ones). The small alley that led to several businesses’ back doors was rather clean, and there weren’t many places to hide. The best you could do was a growing shadow next to an empty dumpster.

“Alright then…” you sighed aloud, hands doing their best to find any seam in the suit, and after a few minutes, your—

[Heart rate at 142bpm.]

[Heart rate rising.]

[Blood pressure at—]

“—No kidding,” you thought, mind racing, and unfortunately, there wasn’t a single seam on the suit.

Anxiety was building in your chest,

“Frick.”

[“Wait, the suit talks?”]

[“I think it has an OS on it? I haven’t tried the cowl since…”]

[“You should.”]

[“…Nnnn”]

“Why do you look like Nightwing?” All you did was take the clothes from Damian and began to dress yourself over the suit, not certain at all on what you could say to this situation. You’d called Damian the moment you lucked out and made the cowl… come off?, and in his eagerness to leave Jon behind, he showed up quickly.

“You will tell me,” he was sounding just like dad.

“Dami, I uhm…”

“…I won’t tell father.” he could deduce a few things this pertained to, including but not limited to the child you had brought home, and how you avoided Bruce.

You could only sigh and nod at him, resigned. You really hope this didn’t come back to bite you in the bottom.

“What are you two doing?”

The clothes you had couldn’t cover most of the suit, the clothes Damian had brought you were able to do just that. Strangely, you weren’t feeling overheated, even though you looked like you were ready for cold weather.

“Ah, Jon.”

“You look silly.”

“…thanks.”

[“…”]

[”...”]

“Nightwing? Screw that brat.”

“Please don’t speak like that…” you sighed, your head in your hands.

He just huffed in annoyance, “I wear the colors better,” he muttered, “it sounds like a lot, what's your next plan of action?”

You let yourself slump forwards as he pulled you into a side-hug, arm slung over your shoulders, “it’s this suit. I can’t get it off, and—"

BAM

You and Jason about had twin heart attacks.

Without missing another fraction of a second, the larger male was on his feet, flipping over the back of the couch ready to attack before he swore at the sight in front of him. Striding over to the table in two long steps, “What the hell, Terry.” He haphazardly picked the kid up, a red helmet falling on the table with a clang, and turned to you, “your kid just tried to kill us, you realize.”

Having slid to the ground out of need to instantly roll to the side, you stopped, staring at the smoking gun that’d been pushed off the table, lying on the floor near you. Your eyes then shifting to the hole in the safehouse’s wall, “Uhm… The safety…”

He just snorted, “I don’t always have it on.” He wasn’t great at taking care of himself, sadly. You did your best with your busy schedule and budgeted time constraints, but when he wasn’t here, he easily fell into old habits.

“Please don’t let the demon spawn near him.”

“Please keep the damned safety on your guns.”

Batman was straining so hard that it looked like he was in the middle of a fight, an obvious aura of unrest around him.

“Whoa, you gonna punch yourself in the face? Wait, wait a minute, I gotta…” Batman groaned, irritated as a red blur came into the room, jabbered on too quickly, then took his phone out and pointed it at the big bat.

“Okay, I’m recording now, do it!”

It took a moment as Batman thought, rubbing his temples.

“I trained my kids too well,” at that, Flash put his phone down, tilting his head in confusion, “and that’s… bad?” He looked up at the League’s computers in front of him, noting the blinking [[ALERT ALERT ALERT]] off to the side.

“Because,” Batman reasoned, “I have to deal with them,” he ground out, glaring at the sign of intrusion.

“Ooooh, your kids hacked into the system again, huh?” Flash let out a low whistle, clearly amused by Batman’s misfortunes. Batman did his best to ignore the red nerd, calling on Cyborg to assist him, even though he had already been on his way, noticing it moments prior.

“Family, amirite?”

Batman said nothing in response,

Tim almost got away with it.

Almost.

#tim drake x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #stephanie brown x reader #duke thomas x reader #bat!sis

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spaceasianmillennial · 3 years

Text

Part 5: Home

Summary: Alucard and Sypha give Trevor Belmont a bath... with soap.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

The sun shimmered and he awoke to the sound of her breathing, a warm wind upon his cheek and jaw. When he yawned and fluttered his eyelids, there she was, eyes crinkled with exhaustion but her lips curled into a smile, a deep relief that she was not dreaming and Trevor Belmont was there. Minutes passed between their gazing. He wanted to say something, something to light up a bigger smile and assure himself that he was real as well. If he could lift his right arm, he'd twirl his finger in her hair.

"Sypha, I've been thinking."

"What, Treffy?"

"What if I'm not Trevor Belmont?"

"Hmmm?" She paused. "Well, I did wonder if you were a beastie in disguise."

"What if I'm an incubus?"

Now her face wrinkled into playful disapproval, as if processing this as yet another one of his crude joke that hadn't sunk into her Speaker brain. She would know of incubi, they went through a rundown of beasts in the Belmont library before they hit the road together.

"What if I'm an incubus who shapeshifted into the form of Trevor Belmont and was sent to seduce you and infiltrate this human village?"

She seemed to be in on the joke, but the way her brows lifted indicated that she was trying to dissect some hidden meaning.

"If you're an incubus come to seduce me, well, you're doing a good job dressing up like Trevor Belmont and being all crude and getting on my nerves. I have to hand it to you. If you keep up this ruse, I might not mind spending the rest of my life with you. Keep up the ruse and I won't kill you, incubus." She patted his jaw.

But there was something he did not tell her. That incubus thing was a joke between his mother and father. "Your father never touched me. He had to have been an incubus. He must have killed Gabriel Belmont, took his shape and skin, and came to the Belmont Hold to seduce me. And I didn't care. Your father never touched me so I rather an incubus love me than not. It took having human children to convince me that it was Gabriel."

"Belmont, can you chew, or shall I spoonfeed you?" Alucard opened the cover, releasing the steamy scent made Trevor's mouth water. Trout with some lettuce leaves. Finally, something that wasn't broth.

"I'm not letting you spoonfeed me. Let Sypha spoonfeed me."

"Suit yourself, Belmont. By the way, Greta, the headwoman, wants to speak with you later this evening. So there's something we need to do with you. Just, don't panic."

"What?" He was expecting more experimental painkillers leaves to chew on.

"Belmont, as he said, don't panic," Sypha added, her expression mildly sour as if preparing for the worse.

"You're going to react," warned Alucard.

"Ok."

"We have to give you a bath, Belmont."

"Ok."

Alucard's expression remained unmoved. "With soap, Belmont."

"Ok."

Alucard lifted his brow. "You're not... repulsed? I figured you were so comfortable in your own filth and stink for eons that soap repels you the way silver and close-up crosses do to a vampire." Even Sypha seemed to raise her brows with skepticism. Trevor Belmont, not repelled by soap.

"Oh haha. Soap is not my weakness, hahaha."

"Belmont, will you be okay with me carrying you into the tub?"

Trevor finally pegged down what Alucard was implying, what the vampire did not want to say out loud. That the task of bathing Trevor Belmont would involve Alucard carrying said Belmont--naked--into the tub.

It was not the most ideal situation, to be carried naked by a man both your vampire adversary and your battle compatriot, but the benefits of not lying in his stink and unwashed wounds outweigh the cost of subjecting Sypha--and himself--to his scent. It would be as practical as your war comrade needing to tear your clothing to tend to a wound. Sypha had to endure weeks without him, so she deserved a less scruffy Belmont to make love to her.

"Whatever you need to do, Alucard. You're the doctor."

There was even one attribute of Lord Dracula that the Belmont family respected as they deemed Dracula Tepes as a serious threat. Lord Tepes was a man who understood that technology was magic in itself.

There sat a large porcelain basin standing on four golden lion-claw legs. A tube and knobs protruded from a wall. Sypha turned on these knobs and water-- "captured rainwater," Alucard explained--poured out. Sypha snapped up sparks of fire onto the coals beneath the basin to heat it up.

Sypha helped loosen the drawstrings of Trevor's trousers.

And so Alucard lifted him. The gesture was a clinical affair for a man raised by a doctor and far from the manners of a man who lifts his lover to the bridal chamber, yet Trevor swore he saw some tints on the vampire's cheeks as he lowered him into the warm water but the thought washed away as the warm water wrapped and sloshed him in its warmth.

"How do you feel?" Sypha asked.

"Better." The hot water embraced his numbing arm and he flexed his stiff fingers. When was the last time he bathed? He fondly remembered those times climbing into the cool lakewater with Sypha. He could detect that memory in Sypha's sly eyes and the curve of her lips whenever she wanted him badly. She took a soapy washcloth and began scrubbing his arm, his pits, his neck. She squeezed the water onto his hair and scrubbed it with sweet-smelling soap in circular motions. She winked at him before she reached deeper to draw the cloth at his pelvis and electricity shot up against his body.

"I sure miss looking at that body of yours, Trevor. I was wondering how I was going to live without that body for the next decades of my life."

He was aware that Alucard was sitting right there, just idly reading a book.

"You could join me," Trevor offered, loudly, to pester Alucard.

She smirked. "Another day, Belmont."

When she judged him pristine enough, she yanked the plug and the water drained into a pipe connected to the floor. He dried himself and she slid on him a long nightshirt that went down to his knees. Alucard carried him out and they helped him back to the bedroom.

This nightshirt, satin and smooth, felt so comfortable that it didn't feel right.

Greta sat in an armchair, uptight and professional.

"We've met, Trevor Belmont, but now's a great time for a proper reintroduction. I had a great deal of time to get to know Sypha. She's wise. She's very eager to help out. She's been great help sorting out the preserved herbs in the castle. So if there's anything you need or any suggestions you have or anything you want to contribute, you can go to me--or send for me. After all, you are a man of knowledge. We might have to consult you for many things."

"Well you got the books for that. Centuries worth of research down my family line, down from Leon Belmont."

"Yes. And you yourself must have knowledge that wouldn't be documented in the books."

Knowledge. It felt gratifying and he reminded himself to boast about it to Sypha, who was sitting by and observing the conversation. That someone came to him for knowledge, that word, as if he were a scholar.

Alucard, the bastard, must have clocked his thoughts and had to chime in, "Careful Greta, I don't think Belmont gets these kinds of compliments, let alone earn them."

Trevor continued on, "I understand your people of Danesti have grown fond of the libraries."

"A lot of them were excited to explore through to their hearts' content. They even asked Alucard if they could take some of the books home to Danesti. Some volunteered to stay back and be transcribers as well to bring it back to Danesti. Then it became clear that our lives would improve if we stayed around. For one, they didn't want to leave the graves of their loved ones and there were bodies to move, but two, they didn't want to leave behind knowledge that could very well save their children's lives."

"Which one do they seem to like better? The boring books about medicine and cosmos in Dracula's castle? Or the books about monster-slaying in the Belmont hold?"

The headwoman smirked at him. She seemed to have figured that he wanted something to rub in Alucard's face.

"I say the adults like them both equally but the kids look through the Belmont books more." Alucard gave her a furtive glare. "I think I'm more preferential to your books, Belmont. But anyway, I also wanted to meet with you because, while this is my village, this is also your land, and your library, as well and you should have input in how you want your home to be respected."

Home. Trevor felt tempted to slump down. He never quite wanted to go back and felt disconnected from the idea that this was his land. While he would technically be its heir, he never harbored real ownership when he bequeathed the lands to Alucard. It had been taken from him and that was that. It made a nice visiting place, or a place to restock weapons or retrieve research, but living among the ghosts and ruins was another weighty matter. Once something had been stolen by the zealous and bloodcurling priests, it could never be given back.

"We look forward to having you in our new town of Belmont, Trevor Belmont."

Having you. No one really asked him to stay. He was just expected to stay. He simply nodded.

"Great, as long as you don't name it Treffy."

Greta's eyes darted at Alucard and Trevor was sure that bastard vampire suggested that dreaded name to her.

She gave a head bow. When she and Alucard left, Trevor clocked the way Greta touched Alucard's shoulder, reminding him of the way his mother danced her fingers on Father's shoulders or when married relatives would rub their significant other's shoulder.

Sypha stroked his hand. "Greta likes you. That's good."

"She's trustworthy?" He liked Greta at first sight, had her pegged as a dutiful leader and someone who worked for her people. But God, anyone these days could be playing nice. God, they didn't want to get ensnared in a Judge situation again.

"She brought her people there to the castle to protect them. She listens to them. She... doesn't talk cheerfully about flogging her people. She and Alucard founded this village so they can have better things, including books and schools." She smiled, as if sensing his caution. "She... checks out."

Glad to know she's likely no child murderer. "If I doubt Alucard's judgment, then I trust Sypha Belnades's judgment," he announced. He wanted a moment to talk to her, about the idea of staying, but he decided that would wait, perhaps when his body no longer ached.

His eyes followed the seams. His finger traced over the patched area. He had finished mending his tunic. He figured that steadying a needle and thread could bring back some precision to his still numbing right arm. Alucard and Sypha brought him clothing from the Belmont hold, where he once acquired the meteorite-dark utility tunics with his knife-wielding cuffs. Now he had nothing else to do but to swat at any passing gnat.

His eyes fell on the open books at the nightstand, books that Sypha had been reading.

And then he reached for a book. He flipped idly around the text and illustrations of the sun, moon, and stars. He liked illustrations. Usually, he'll look at them and his mother would read to them. He already knew which creature tends to appear in a full moon or a dark moon or a crescent moon, which creature is powered by daylight (ironically), and which came out during certain constellations. But for the first time in eons, Trevor Belmont read about the stars.

–

Next up: Trevor *gasp* reading.

–> PART 6

COMMENTS OR REBLOGS APPRECIATED

The more refined version of this story is developing on Archive of Our Own

Check out my other fanfic on AO3

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#trepha #sypha belnades #trevor belmont #castlevania #trephacard #greta

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reallyhardydraws · 4 years

Photo

insp by what could come after @look-at-your-shattered-children‘s fic practically married, with some flower advice from @ladytrelaw … so have a drawing and a ficlet from me!

In the end they go for the smallest possible ceremony, just a little affair in Bristol’s city hall. Dea chooses a dress by touch, picking one in satin that swirls around her legs and makes her feel like Titania amongst the forest tangles. By smell she chooses lavender, of course, and weaves a stem into the braid in her hair, along with a few sprigs of baby’s breath because she’s heard they’re traditional, and a few larger chicory blossoms because Gwyn always said they remind him of her.

Gwyn himself wears charcoal grey and a bolo tie with a cold metal clasp, on which there’s the raised design of a wolf, and Dea had delighted in feeling out the point of its little snout. Looks like Mojo, she’d said, and Mojo had woofed his agreement. It had been her father’s, of course, since he’d had his western phase as a young man and Gwyn couldn’t be convinced into wearing a real tie come hell or high water, (though if you asked Dea, she’d say he was really only griping for show, and truly wanted nothing other than to wear the thing, with it being so special to Ursus.)

Of course she wears Gwyn’s mother’s bracelet, her something borrowed for years now, and elects Josiana her maid of honour, because as soon as Dea had mentioned wedding bells around her she’d essentially claimed the position for herself. And that’s alright - Dea’s world is little and once they’d got over their initial jealousy about each other, the two young women found they got along much better than anyone expected them to, what with their similar passions for Gothic romance and tragic theatre. Jojo had thrown herself into dress shopping and hairstyle choices and creating invitations for all of the three extra guests in attendance, and when Dea had found herself teary eyed on the morning of the event, Josiana had been the one to wipe away her tears and hug her tightly before they got into their dresses.

She meets Gwyn now at the altar, Mojo having led her up the aisle, and Gwyn reaches for her hands and holds them tight as Angelica, in the role of officiant, speaks. Together, they say all the necessary responses, and giggle like the schoolchildren they’d been when they first met once they hear the words I now pronounce you married. They kiss and Gwyn has been unmasked from the start, it’s only their dearest friends around anyway, (and everyone in attendance will say afterwards that in the springtime light pouring through the windows, you could hardly see his scars for his smile and the overjoyed tears in his eyes.)

Dea can feel those scars crinkle under her fingers as she holds his face in her hands, her mouth moving against his for a sweet, chaste moment before they pull away, and then they’re husband and wife. And someone snaps a photo and everyone cheers, and suddenly she and Gwyn are the sweet bubble-gum centre in a group-hug lollipop, with Osric’s good arm flung around Gwyn’s neck, and Ursus’s hands on Dea’s shoulders, and David and Jojo squeezing them around the outside, Angelica dragged somewhere into there too.

Together they emerge into the sunlight, and the perfume of roses hits Dea’s nose as tossed petals fly in her face and settle on her hair and shoulders. She holds on tight to Gwyn’s arm and presses her forehead into his shoulder and breathes deeply, deeply.

When they all get back to the house, (with a few white streamers pinned to the walls and a few vases of fragrant flowers on the sturdier surfaces,) Ursus gives a speech, a toast. He takes them all back to the day a scruffy twelve-year-old Gwyn had rescued a tiny eleven-year-old Dea and how, with some coaxing, he’d stuck around afterwards – and just how glad Ursus is that he did so. To my darling girl, he finishes, and my strong, brave lad. May you have many happy years together. May you never have to be apart for long. Beside her, with her hand on his back, Dea can feel a sob bubble up in Gwyn’s chest.

And they all drink, and the dining room table’s been turned into a buffet of home-made delicacies - pierogi and a huge pot of bigos from Angelica, she’d gotten the recipes during her studies in Poland, a selection of misshapen sandwiches because that was the best David and Osric could manage on a team effort and their combined culinary knowledge (which was negligible). There’s a cheeseboard Ursus put together based on a cookbook from 1978, and a cake Josiana commissioned from the best baker in the city - a three tier sponge with sweet buttercream and delicate sugar flowers. An hour later Osric climbs into the sofa with his shoes on and he’d be reprimanded on any other day, but today he gets away with it and gets to give a somewhat tipsy toast of his own, Gwyn, Dea, congratulations! Best ceremony I’ve ever been to, I think, bar that time I stumbled in on a biker wedding in Glasgow – yours a much classier affair I have to say, hey, good on ye!

You’ll be next! someone shouts up at him. Osric sticks out his tongue and gives a drunken chortle, stumbling down from the sofa before flinging his good arm lazily around David’s shoulders, spilling his champagne flute in the process. Jojo fiddles with plugging her phone into the stereo speakers so that they can dance - it’s no expensive wedding reception but they clear a little space in the kitchen for a dance floor and pair up, first father-and-bride and then maid-of-honour-and-bride and then bride-and-tipsy-dundonian and bride-and-tipsy-dundonian’s-boyfriend ‘til finally Dea finds herself in Gwynplaine Trelaw’s unmistakable arms.

“Hello,” he says, bending close to her. “We’re married.”

“Yes,” she replies, giggling. “That we are.”

After so long being practically married, she has to say it doesn’t feel all that different, or at least not yet, but she’s happier than she can express that all their friends were there to witness it happen. And she’s very happy with her dress, the slippery-smooth feel of it just like magic.

“I'm…” Gwyn starts. “I’m really happy. I mean, I didn’t think I wouldn’t be, but now that we’re here…”

“You’re right,” Dea says. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? Maybe we should get married every week, so we can always feel like this. We could go to Las Vegas.”

“Oh really,” Gwyn replies, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Or we could do a destination wedding and head somewhere tropical.”

“The Bermuda Triangle!” Dea says, thrilled. “And then we’ll honeymoon in Dracula’s castle.”

Suddenly, Gwyn’s lifting her in the air and laughing as he spins them, like he almost never does, like he doesn’t care at all, like everything’s wonderful. Because everything is! Everything’s wonderful, right now, and Dea shrieks with surprised laughter too, still giggling when he sets her safely back down.

“I love you,” Gwyn says, breathless, like he’s so happy he could sing. “I love you.”

“I love you,” says Dea, “I’m going to tell you every day, 'til you’re sick of it.”

“I couldn’t ever be!” Gwyn says, and he twirls her, and they dance. They dance, and their friends dance with them long into the night, and they hold each other tight until everyone else has gone home, and then they dance once more even after all the music has been switched off, when they’re just in their pajamas and the flowers that had been in Dea’s hair are now in the sink, and they hold each other tight until the morning.

There’s a ring on Dea’s finger, and a matching one on Gwyn’s. And Dea thinks, yes, they might just have to get married a few more times, because after all, she really likes her dress. It’d be a shame if she only got to wear it once.

#the grinning man #TGM modern AU #gwynplaine trelaw #dea tgm #draws #YES his outfit is just louis' london premiere outfit hahahah

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captain039 · 3 years

Text

Drink your fill PT 2

Dracula x reader

From:Dracula BBC version

Warnings: Gore, vampire things, mentions of religious things, sexual, intimacy, anxiety, depression, fluffy things used to calm anxiety. age gap

This will be after he finds out he’s not scared to sunlight blah blah, he just doesn’t die.

Artistic reader

This may be triggering just for the anxiety and depression, this is what I go through I just find writing about it helps my mind ease.

Last Chapter

As morning came you dressed and headed to the University again. It was a Friday unfortunately. All the younger ones would be having parties. You never went to any parties, the drinks and the drugs not interesting you, nor did the people. You drew you ignored everyone, messaged Jake occasionally and thanked gods that Mr Dracula wasn’t there. You had stared at his drawing, seeing yourself like that was odd. You weren’t large nor were you skinny, average height, just a little plumper as your dad called you. He had a funny way of explaining things, you’d tease him about it and he’d get flustered and say he didn’t mean it like that. His words weren’t very well put sometimes. As the day ended you sighed walking home this time. You had your license just not a car of your own you could use. So you walked, took the bus or your mum picked you up when she could.

At home you ate dinner, showered, watched some TV before helping with the dishes then continuing with TV. You got a late night text from Jake who needed saving you sighed. Telling your dad who was still awake as he chuckled and nodded pointing to the keys.

“He can stay here if he likes” your father said winking and you rolled your eyes. Jake was cute, small and cute that was all, not your type.

You drove the address he sent and sighed and the loud noise and people.

“Where are you” you whispered to yourself as you went inside the club area. You found him giggling in a corner no doubt high.

“Baby!” He said hugging you. You sighed giving his back a pat before leading him outside.

“Take a breath” you said as he leant over to puke.

“Oh gods sake” he groaned as he puked. You looked away your stomach weak to that sort of thing.

“Right you’re coming home with me you’re mother will kill you” you said helping him to the car.

“M sorry” he said sulking.

“Don’t be sorry, you do it all the time, besides why am I here if not to rescue your butt” you said grinning as you pulled away.

“I saw vampire man, he’s kinda handsome in an old way” Jake giggled making you raise an eyebrow.

“I can’t believe he drew you like some love sick prince in a bad romance” he added making you sigh.

“He needed a subject, I just happened to be that- subject” you muttered and Jake snorted.

“Honestly you need your own business not some stupid UNI thingy” he slurred making you shake your head.

“Right” you said as you pulled up and parked.

“Come on” you sighed taking him inside and to your room. Everyone was asleep by now or in bed. You laid Jake on your bed and he passed out instantly. You sighed taking his phone and charging it on the bedside table before covering him with a blanket and taking his shoes off. You laid some clothes for him on the chair next to him. He had spare clothes here for when his family got bad.

“Goodnight you idiot” you sighed rolling your eyes.

You found yourself in a strange place, almost medieval castle. You looked around wandering through the big hall. There was a table in a large room, stairs spiralling up behind them. There was a feast on the table, a literally feast, wines, breads, meats and fruits so much food. The fire was roaring too but no intense warmth was emitting from it.

“Hello?” You called even though it was stupid and you should probably run.

“Ah there you are” you frowned at the slightly familiar voice.

“Welcome my dear” you looked to the stairs seeing Mr Dracula there. He wore an olden suit and cloak, black on the outside crisp red on the inside.

“Mr Dracula?” You said confused as he descended from the stairs.

“Count Dracula, darling” he said and you frowned a laugh on your lips.

“Like the Count Dracula from Transylvania” you joked hugging your stomach.

“Exactly” he said in all seriousness and you frowned as he pulled out a chair and gestured to it.

“Come” he said and your feet moved on their own. You sat in the old chair and felt yourself behind pushed in before he took the seat next to you at the head of the table.

“Are you hungry?” He asked opening your plate.

“Mr- Count Dracula? Where am I?” You said a smile appearing on his face as he sipped some wine.

“You said it yourself my dear, Transylvania” you frowned again confused.

“I’m confused” you said looking around. This certainly looked like a castle from Transylvania. Not that you looked at any recently.

“Why- why am I here?” You asked looking back to him and seeing he was gone.

“Count?” You called standing up quickly.

“You’re a perfect fruit” his voice echoed making you shuddered. Your feet wandered up the stairs as you followed distant chuckling and soft music. You found another room, he sat playing a soft tune on the piano.

“How-“ you whispered confused to how he moved so quickly.

“This can’t be real” you said the door slamming behind you as you backed up.

“I’m in your head darling” he was in front of you now, twisting a loose hair around his finger. You shook slightly looking up to his eyes.

“Oh how I could ruin you” he whispered and you flushed body hot. His fingertips brushed down the side of your cheek and rested on your throat right where your pulse was.

“Uh-“ you managed to get out gulping.

“You’re not like the others in your class, rowdy children ruining their lives with drugs and Alcohol” he snarled slightly as you flinched.

“Untainted, untouched” he whispered his other hand sliding up your thigh. Your clothes consisted of what you wore to bed, a singlet and shorts.

“So soft” he added lifting the hem of your shirt and sliding his fingers along your exposed side. You let out a small noise his fingers cold on your side. His other hand was still on your pulse, your every beat against his fingertips.

“Count” you said barely above a whisper as his eyes returned to yours.

“You’ve waited a long time for the right man to treat you” he said a proud smirk on his face.

“What-“ you said eyes wide.

“You’re not so innocent, little one” he cupped your cheek again leaning down to your neck and taking a deep breath. Though the gesture weird it sent shivers up your spine as did the light squeeze he gave to your exposed hip.

“You smell divine” he whispered pressing his lips to your pulse. Your head tilted back and slightly to the side and he growled in your ear.

“Begging in your dreams for someone to take care of you only the way a man could” he whispered right in your ear before pulling himself back. You flushed embarrassed at the intense feelings you had. You clenched your thighs together every now and then subtly his hand still resting on your naked side.

“How do I know you’re a man” you mumbled. It slipped out and he grinned at you.

“Cheeky little thing” he whispered his hand moving to the front of your stomach and slipping under your short hand. You tensed head still against the door. You grabbed his hand body shaking and he frowned.

“If you were a man and knew me you wouldn’t do this” you said and he stared at you.

“You long for touch little one” he said and you nodded.

“Only with someone I trust” you whispered as his hand intertwined with yours.

“Old romance then?” He whispered and you flushed head to the side.

“Bratty and playing hard to get, I like a challenge” he whispered pressing another kiss to your neck. His thumb ran over your knuckles the other leaving your throat. He grabbed your other hand and pinned both hands above your head. You let out a gasp his body pressed against yours.

“How long can you last?” He whispered.

Next Chapter

#x reader #fanfic #Dracula bbc x reader #Dracula x reader #Dracula bbc #Count Dracula #Transylvania #vampires

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johaerys-writes · 3 years

Text

Where Blood Roses Bloom

Fandom: Castlevania

Pairings: Alucard/Trevor Belmont/Sypha, Hector/Lenore

Summary:

After Trevor gets grievously injured by a night creature, he and Sypha return to Dracula's castle to seek Alucard's help. The man they find there, however, is but a shadow of the friend they left behind.

Meanwhile, in far Styria, Hector does his best to survive in the vampires' court, a lamb amidst wolves. Little do the wolves know, the lamb has fangs of its own.

Chapter 8: Safe is up! The trio return to the castle after their brief encounter with the night-creatures in the woods, and have some much needed quiet time. Plenty of introspection, angst, hurt/comfort, Alucard POV :)

Read on AO3! Or read from the beginning

“I prepared a bath,” Sypha says with a small, awkward smile as soon as Adrian steps into his room. “I figured you would need it.”

He stands at the threshold of his study, blinking into the interior. In the time it took for him and Belmont to return to the castle, Sypha lit up the fire in the hearth, dragged one of the copper tubs in his room and filled it with warm water; she even put some order to his chaos, placed his books back in their proper place, tidied his desk, folded his blankets. It... almost feels like home again.

It is still odd, though, to see her in his space; it has been so long since anyone has stepped foot in any place he called his very own. It should have felt like an invasion, but it doesn’t. He is surprised by how much he welcomes her presence there, considering how things were left between them before he stormed out of the castle.

“You and Trevor took your time getting here. I should probably reheat this,” she says, and her gaze glides discreetly straight past him and to the tub of water, which waits for him by the fire. "Unless you have a preference for lukewarm to cold baths?”

Adrian lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. Belmont's horse had been so spooked by the night-creatures, that it took almost an hour for them to find it, trudging through the snow. With Belmont stopping every so often to catch his breath, Adrian was surprised they even managed to get back at all. At length, they found the poor animal hiding behind a small thicket, close to a lake nearby. Even when they climbed into the saddle, the horse was jittery and restless, and Adrian would have turned into a wolf and ran to the castle on his own four legs if he hadn't thought it would have unsettled the beast even more.

Besides, riding two-saddle with Belmont wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as he would have once thought. The warmth of his chest, pressed up against his back, was more than welcome against the bitter cold he had had to endure that past day, and his arms resting at either side of him as he held the reins felt… good. Comforting. Infuriatingly so.

Not that Adrian would ever admit that to him outright, but still.

Sypha flicks her fingers, and instantly there is steam rising from the water, giving off the sweet scent of herbal soap. It smells faintly like her, Adrian realises, and something warm spreads within him at the thought that she used her own soap to prepare his bath. Sypha gives him a last smile as she turns to leave. “I’ll come back to bring you some tea. Or would you perhaps like some time alone…?”

“Tea sounds wonderful,” Adrian replies, and is surprised by how readily the words fly out of his mouth. “Thank you, Sypha.”

Her smile widens, and there is a flicker of understanding, but also of expectation in her eyes. Her gaze has none of the hurt or confusion it did last time she had seen him, none of the shock and fear. That alone is more comforting that Adrian can express.

“Alright then,” she says quietly, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue. “I’ll be back soon. I'd better go check on our perpetual patient first.” The door closes softly behind her, and Adrian is on his own.

With mechanical movements, he pulls off his boots, removes his clothes. A small blanket of snow, muddle and pine needles is gathered around his feet as he undresses. He doesn’t even bother folding them, leaving them on the floor next to the tub instead; they’re all covered in so much blood and dirt that he hardly make out the colour of the fabric anyway.

The warm, soapy water is slightly on the scalding hot side, but Adrian doesn’t hesitate a moment before lowering himself in it. It embraces his body swiftly and the many cuts and scrapes on his arms and legs sting. Adrian leans back against the sturdy copper of the tub and lets the water seep into his sore and tired muscles and take away the ache, the cold, the numbness. He rests his head on the rim of the tub and closes his eyes with a sigh.

The past couple of days drift behind his tightly closed eyelids, before he can stop them. His duel with Belmont, their ill-timed kiss, the dinner he and Sypha prepared for him, their argument. Himself running away, the castle and the forest disappearing behind him in a blur. He doesn't remember that many details after this, nothing concrete; only himself running for miles and miles until his limbs were numb and his lungs were on fire. Even when he could run no more, though, when he was so far away from the castle that he couldn’t even see its tall and sharp peaks, he remembers the ache in his heart being exactly the same, as if he’d never taken a step away.

They’re always within him, those memories, that hollowness, that pain. No matter how fast he runs, how far, they're always there. The voices in his head that tell him that he’s meant to be alone, that he's always been different, that he doesn't belong. All of his life, even since he has any sort of recollection of himself, he remembers feeling adrift, with neither foot planted firmly on the ground beneath him. Half human and half vampire; a part of both worlds, and accepted by neither. His father, after he had lost his mind, had tried to kill him because he thought him too human, soft and weak, with a human heart and human sensibilities; Sumi and Taka had tried to kill him because he wasn’t human enough, because to them he was a ruthless, heartless monster, same as the ones they’d come to know.

As if there really is any difference between vampires and humans in how monstrous they can be.

Adrian has seen enough of the world to know that anyone’s a monster to someone. He is a monster in the world of humans, and a monster in the world of vampires; an oddity and a stranger in both. If there is no place for him in this world, then where is he supposed to be? What is he supposed to be?

If you’re a monster, then so am I.

Belmont’s words ring in his ears. Adrian grips the edges of the copper tub tightly, until his knuckles go white. He presses his eyes shut, trying to ignore the shock he had felt at that moment, but also the affection that swells within him and that he can no longer deny. It rises in his chest, shy like an early spring bud on cold and frosty ground, even as he tries to push it down. It reminds him of the earnestness in Belmont’s gaze as he said it, the warmth of his touch and the steadiness of his presence, and it makes him wonder if, maybe, just maybe, there is hope for Adrian yet.

And if that isn’t the cruelest thing that Belmont has ever done to him.

So lost is he in his thoughts, that he doesn’t even hear Sypha as she enters the room. Her footsteps are quiet and her voice soft when she says his name, the teapot and fine china rattling on her tray. The sweet aroma of herbal tea fills the room.

“I brought you tea. Would you like some?”

Adrian has no strength to respond to her. It feels like it has all been drained out of him the moment he stopped running, as if his resolve simply crumbled the minute he stopped resisting.

“Alucard,” she says again, and Adrian doesn’t quite know why that name, from her lips, tears at him. She cautiously steps closer, and set the tray on the low coffee table. She extends her hand gingerly to touch his shoulder, but he recoils with a sharp intake of breath. A look of hurt flashes over her features.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, and that too, sends a stab of pain through him. “Would you like me to leave?”

Adrian takes a deep, slow breath to calm his rapidly beating heart, then shakes his head silently. He doesn’t want to be alone, but he doesn’t want to look at her either. He’s not sure what he’ll see there, this time.

“Would you like to talk?” Sypha asks, and again Adrian shakes his head. She gazes around the room, her eyes falling on a low stool. Carefully, she picks it up and brings it close to the tub. “I’ll sit here and keep you company, then. Is that alright?”

His silence is enough of an answer. She sits there, quietly for a time, gazing out of the window while he stares at the water in his bath. It’s starting to get cold, but a flick of Sypha’s wrist and it’s comfortably warm again. Adrian hugs himself tightly, pulling his knees up to his chest. He doesn’t quite know what to tell her; it’s awkward, sitting with her like this, but at the same time talking feels like an impossible task right now. His throat is raw and his heart is heavy, and there's so many thoughts swivelling in his mind that he wouldn't know where to start, even if he tried.

Still, he doesn’t want her to leave. That, he knows well enough. Her presence is comforting, the scent of her skin and of her herbal soap drifting around him, and she is humming an old song under her breath, like the ones his mother used to sing once. It helps fill the void a little.

“Do you want me to wash the blood off you?” she asks softly, a while after they’ve both been sitting there in silence.

Blood. Right. Adrian’s hands are still covered in it; it’s both Belmont’s and the night creatures’, and perhaps a little bit of his own, too. He has done nothing all the time he’s been in the tub, other than dejectedly sit in the water. He listens as Sypha stands up and looks around the room, then comes back with what must be a washcloth.

“I’m going to touch you now,” she says. “Is that alright?”

Adrian nods guardedly, but he still flinches a little when he feels her hands on him. She pauses and withdraws.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again, with patience. Adrian swallows thickly, embarrassment rising within him with every moment that passes. Her apologies somehow make him feel even worse. He wonders if she’ll really get up and leave this time, but at the same time he has no energy to speak or to comfort her. He simply waits, eyes fixed on the water, hugging himself tighter still.

Sypha tries again, more slowly and gently this time, and this time Adrian doesn’t flinch quite as much. She carefully brushes the cloth over his hands and forearms, turns his wrists this way and that, carefully cleaning the blood and grime away. The warm cloth feels rough against his skin, and it stings just a little when she wipes the blood of the scratches the night creatures managed on him, but Sypha’s touch is gentle, even tender. She is careful not to linger too long on any of his scars, to brush the cloth over them as lightly as possible, as if afraid they’re still hurting him. And in a way, they are.

It feels like an eternity has passed since anyone has touched him for so prolonged a time. It reminds him of the last time someone touched his bare skin like this, a night that is etched in his memory with blood and fire and sharpened steel, and he trembles. He tries to remind himself that he is safe now, that Sypha has been nothing but patient with him all the while she’s been here and has never physically harmed him, that he can still protect himself if need be, if bad comes to worse.

He trembles all the same.

“Would you like me to stop?” she asks, her voice but the barest whisper murmured between them. “One word, and I’ll stop, Alucard. I’ll leave you be.”

Adrian closes his eyes and breathes slowly. He gives his head a slow, steady shake. He feels so strange like this, naked and vulnerable and exposed. He doesn't appreciate being seen in this state, but he finds Sypha’s touch almost tolerable. More than that, he knows the absence of it will leave him feeling... empty.

So he takes a deep breath and lets her clean his arms, his shoulders, his chest, lets her wash his hair. Her fingers are gentle and delicate when they thread through his locks and massage his scalp, working up a lather. She touches him like he’s fragile, easily breakable, like his skin is made of paper and his bones of glass. A part of Adrian knows that this sort of tenderness is unnecessary; that kindness such as this often pushes the hurt and loathing deeper instead of washing it away. Still, he is grateful. He’s grateful for her patience, grateful for her care, and he leans into it even as a part of him rebels against it, begs to run away again.

Adrian loses track of how long they stay like this, with him soaking in the water and Sypha’s hands on his skin, his scars; her gentle humming in his ears. At length, she starts talking to him in low and mellow tones, without expecting any answer. She speaks of the books she has found in the library, of the many spells she's managed to unearth, but it isn't long before her descriptions of spells and scrolls devolve into tales and legends of ages past and long forgotten. Snow is falling gently beyond the window, fluffy snowflakes tapping the glass, and Sypha is telling him a story of a water nymph in a far away land, up to the North, that fell in love with a hunter, and saved him from certain death when he fell in a frozen lake in the depths of winter. The nymph heard his cries and pulled him out of the water, Sypha says, then dragged him to a cave, and almost scalded herself when she tried to light a fire, so that he wouldn’t freeze. She nursed the hunter to health, and stayed with him until he gained full consciousness, even though it was getting harder for her every day, being away from the safety of her cold waters.

Adrian doesn’t know why this story tugs at him so viscerally. He listens attentively while she speaks, afraid to miss a single word.

“It is true, then,” he says quietly, when she almost reaches the end of her tale, speaking more to himself rather than to her. “The things we cherish the most often do us… the most harm.”

Sypha’s fingers stop their careful ministrations for a moment. Adrian thinks he can hear a soft smile in her voice when she whispers, “Certain things are worth fighting for, even if they hurt sometimes.”

Adrian says nothing to that. He just glances up at her, golden eyes meeting crystal blue. “What happened to the nymph?” he asks, and his heart beats with a strange sort of expectation.

Her smile widens, and she tilts her head to the side so that the light from the fire paints her fair skin amber. “They fell in love and lived happily ever after. The nymph in her lake, and the hunter in the cabin he built close by to be with her.”

Adrian huffs a quiet laugh at the gentle triumph that flashes in her eyes. “Do all your stories have a happy ending?”

“No,” she says, pouring fresh water over his hair to wash the soap away, “but this one does.” Her voice becomes softer when she whispers, “At least I hope it does.”

Read the rest on AO3!

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #alucard #alucard x trevor x sypha #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #trephacard #alucard/trevor belmont/sypha belnades #castlevania fanfiction #where blood roses bloom #johaerys writes

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the-dimitrescu-seamstress · 3 years

Text

Help Wanted, A Prequel

(Mun here! I’ve been a bit busy writing drabbles and finally finished one up. It’s the backstory of how Magda came under the employment of House Dimitrescu.

One thing I’ve noticed is that pre-castle Magda is a bit more rough around the edges than seamstress Magda. I hope you all enjoy it.)

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The shuttle bus rolling to a stop was what woke Magdalena from her slumber. Normally, she didn’t fall asleep on such rides but the night train from Bucharest to Bistrița hadn’t exactly been restful. But, to its credit, the bus had been mostly empty.

Mostly.

As what seemed to always be the rule with nearly empty buses, an older woman just had to sit next to her. It didn’t matter that there were plenty of other empty seats she could have chosen from. No, she decided to sit right next to Magdalena… and then proceed to talk almost incessantly about to her family, to the point where the younger woman had to fake falling asleep.

Except that in faking it, she actually eventually succumbed to her tiredness.

Looking out the window, Magda rubbed her eyes and blinked, more than a bit confused at the sight of trees closer than they should have been if they were at a rest stop. Which they were not.

The bus was parked in the middle of an unpaved mountain road, the motor turned off, and the driver standing over her. Also noticeable was the fact that, aside from herself and said looming driver, there were no other passengers on the bus.

“Did we break down?” Magda asked cautiously, sitting up.

“There was a rock slide on the main road, closing it down,” he replied, a little too casually. “This is the detour. The other passengers decided to wait at the last rest stop for a bus back, but you had no complaints, so I continued.”

“I had no complaints? I was asleep! And now we’re in the middle of nowhere.” Why the hell hadn’t anyone woken her up? Even the woman who tried to talk her ear off. Magda just loved and appreciated the everlasting kindness of strangers.

“Exactly. And since you’re my only passenger, we should talk. If you want to keep going, you’ll need to pay more.”

“Keep going?! We’re on a dirt road!” she yelled. “Where the hell are we even going?!”

“That is a good point,” he answered, scratching his chin. “We’re on the side of some mountain. You’ll need to pay me to get back to the main road. And civilization.” Magda blinked, dumbfounded. Was he really trying to extort her for more money?

Looking out the window, she stalled for time in order to think of a solution that didn’t involve punching the driver in the face. She didn’t have money; certainly not enough he would consider worth his time and effort. If he knew that, it was possible he’d want a different form of compensation, and she wasn’t about to give that up for him. As Magda mulled over her options, something caught her eye through the trees. It was the turrets of a rather imposing castle. She then saw the turning blades of a large windmill a bit further off, as well as smoke curling from what looked like modern chimneys nestled in the shadow of the castle.

Smoke meant civilization, people, and a potential alternate exit from this hellhole of a scenario.

“I’ll take my chances walking,” she informed the driver while standing up with her bag and doing her best to shoulder past him hard in one swift motion. She almost made it to the door too before being roughly grabbed and pulled back.

“There are wolves and other things in these woods that will happily eat you right up, little girl,” the driver growled, his breath a bit too warm and close to Magda’s neck for comfort.

“Better there than here,” she countered, shifting her weight into him while delivering an elbow to his ribs and the heel of her palm sharply to the side of his nose. It might not have exceedingly effective, but it was enough to escape his grip, as well as the bus. Once outside, Magda did her best to put distance between herself and the road, scrambling through the woods and undergrowth. For all she knew, the driver could have been armed and more than a little pissed off.

After running for a bit, she jumped down an embankment and paused, catching her breath while listening. There were no sounds of pursuit, which she was grateful for, and after a few tense minutes, she heard a motor fire up and the bus drive away.

Now she was well and truly stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Yes, there was absolutely a sudden reaction of ‘what the fuck did you just do, Magdalena?’ but that thought was shushed as worry about the other alternative was brought up as a brief counter-argument. It was the lesser of two evils. Besides, there was the nearby town. Perhaps they had vehicles to rent or someone would be nice enough to drive her to the nearest train station. Hell, if the castle was any indication, maybe it was a local tourist destination with a proper hotel where she could get cleaned up and spend the night.

At least that was what Magda had intended and hoped for.

It was safe to say that she hadn’t dressed for a hike through the woods, but rather a walk through the metropolitan area of a well populated city. Thankfully, she had the decency to wear sensible boots. It was also safe to say that, when it came to mountains, distances were deceiving. Yes, it wasn’t that far to the town, as the crow flew, but for Magda, there were some unexpected ups and downs. Eventually she came upon what looked to be an old farm trail, which saved her ankles from being rolled too much. Either way, by the time she reached the town, she was more than a bit tired.

Not that it could even be considered a town.

It was more like a village, and a poor one at that. Or perhaps one that still lived in a era where not much had changed since the Soviets had marched through. If you were from a more cultured or modern city, it was sometimes still a shock, and a sobering one at that, to see that there were still areas where the horse and cart were still just as prevalent as more modern modes of transportation, and they cut hay with scythes that they had just sharpened by hand that morning. Being away at school and traveling the various cities of Western Europe had spoiled Magda.

The roads were all dirt and gravel or rather, due to a recent rain, gravel and mud. This was a gray mud that was somehow both slippery and sticky, grabbing hold of Magda’s boots at any chance it got. The houses, though in decent shape, were old and worn. Fresh coats of blue, yellow, white, and red paint gave life to wood that was otherwise weathered with that unmistakable brown-grey color brought on by time. The fences, some metal, but most wood, were kept in good shape, as they were what contained the multitudes of chickens she saw, along with a few pigs, goats, and horses.

What Magda didn’t see much of were people. Yes, the village was inhabited, but as soon as she approached any of the residents, they all hurried inside their dwellings, shut the door, and ignored any attempts she made at communication.

“This is ridiculous! We are in Romania, right? You do speak Romanian? The damn bus driver couldn’t have crossed a border!” Magda yelled to no one. Even if he had been able to do so, the surrounding countries recognized the language she spoke. Clearly these people just hated outsiders. Mumbling a few choice words about hospitality, she continued into the center of town. If she could make it to the castle, maybe she could find out where the hell she was and learn exactly how she could get out of here.

The village square was as disappointing as the rest of the village. Aside from the roads converging, the only way she knew it was the village center was because of the statue. It was a crouching woman, armed with a sword and shield, clearly ready to do battle with… something unseen. The plaque read ‘Maiden of War’ which made Magda smile a little. When she was little, her grandparents had spoken about the village they were from having a statue of a warrior maiden. If this was the same village, it would be one hell of a coincidence. Though if the rest of their stories were to be believed, then the castle was home to a terrible monster. Actually, all the aristocrats were supposed to be monsters. As she grew older, Magda chocked that up to being a bit of resentment towards the ruling class, political upheaval, and whatever else would make overthrowing the elite easier in the minds of the populace.

Besides, even if they were monsters, the people in the castle had to be more helpful than the villagers.

The gate that separated the village from the castle grounds was large and impressive, with a carved relief depicting the warrior maid fighting a horned demon. The laugh that escaped her was brief, but maybe a bit harsh. This almost looked like something an American would put outside a castle in an effort to claim it belong to Vlad Tepes. All that was missing were the impaled bodies. Maybe this had been a failed tourist attempt, trying to ride the coattails of the many Dracula movies made over the years. Either way, the road to the castle looked well traveled and she could see faint lights in the windows, so someone must be living there.

As she made her way up the road, Magda re-evaluated the owner’s intentions yet again when she saw the grapevines. She knew absolutely nothing about vineyards and winery, but if one had an old castle with extensive cellars that were kept at a stable temperature, and the soil was good enough, why not start producing wine? It still didn’t explain why the locals treated her as such. Perhaps they were naturally wary of outsiders or just pissed off people in general. Not that it really mattered. She’d be out of their hair soon enough.

At a distance, the castle looked old, gothic, and imposing, but up close, Magda knocked a few hundred years off its age, moving it away from the mountain fortresses that waged war and stood against sieges in the Middle Ages to something more along the lines of the proverbial fairytale castles built in the 1700’s. Turrets, balconies, and large windows abounded. Once you looked past the dark exterior stone coloring, it was actually quite beautiful, and she spent a few minutes admiring the facade before making her way to the front door.

Though the small lion-headed door knockers looked purely ornamental, Magda still used them to announce her presence. After a second try and a few minutes without an answer, she made sure her boots were free of that awful mud before testing the doorknob. The door opened easily and silently, revealing a gorgeously ornate entry hall, centered on an alcove holding a painting of three young women.

“Three daughters… Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela,” she read quietly off the title plaque. White walls, with gilded details and carved woodwork; it all said this was either a home or a museum. Part of Magda hoped it was the latter, so she wouldn’t feel like she was intruding, but again, this didn’t fully explain the state of the village below… unless the person who owned this castle was some overly moneyed individual that looked down on anyone who couldn’t date their family history back eighteen generations and therefore didn’t care about commoners.

To the right of the entrance hall was a room containing an antique elevator. It was something that didn’t look to be in the best of shape, but then again neither was the room itself. Magda had a feeling it was left over from when the castle was built, probably used to move materials to the upper levels. The hallway on the opposite side of the entrance hall looked much more promising. At least for the time being.

The luxury of the castle continued on with inlayed wood floors, lace and brocade curtains, antique furniture, and art pieces scattered all about. Magda quietly made her way down the hallway, listening for any indication of people. The stillness that surrounded her was almost palpable. Which was probably why the normally soft sound of a door opening seemed as loud as a gunshot. Through the doorway at the bottom of the the stairs came a tall woman dressed all in black, with a hood pulled up in order to put her face and red hair in shadow.

“I am very sorry to intrude and disturb you, ma’am,” Magda apologized. “I was just looking for the owner of this castle or someone I could see about possibly getting a ride into a nearby city?” The woman just smiled and giggled a little as she started up the stairs.

“Awwww, you’re lost and looking for someone?” she crooned. “Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m someone.” That was when Magda noticed the sickle in the redhead’s hand and the bloodstains on both her face and dress. Then there was also the matter of her height. At first Magda thought it was just due to an odd angle, but as the other woman climbed the stairs, Magda realized she had to be well over six feet tall, possibly nearing seven. Alarm bells began ringing in her head.

“Oh! Oh, no… no, you see, I am very sorry. I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but I am soooo very sorry for interrupting you. You’re clearly busy, so I’ll let you be,” she explained while quickly backpedaling the way she came, doing her best not to run, despite every instinct saying to do just that. What kind of place had she stumbled upon?

Magda’s steady retreat stopped when she backed into something unexpected. Risking a look behind her, she saw another equally tall woman, dressed almost identically to the redhead, only this one was a brunette, and the look in her eyes was more of a predatory nature. As if she were choosing the right cut of beef off a cow.

Her exit blocked by the brunette, Magda did a stupid thing and bolted for the nearby double doors. She touched the handles just as they burst open, revealing a third individual. Turning to run, arms encircled Magda, pulling her back and holding her tight.

“Never have we had prey come to us so eagerly,” the third woman, a blonde, said with a loud laugh and manic grin. She then leaned in close and inhaled deeply, causing Magda to flinch and close her eyes, going still in the woman’s arms. “I do so enjoy hot blood tinged with fear… Promise you’ll scream for me when I cut you open?” she whispered excitedly into her ear.

“And here I thought you never played with your food,” the brunette quipped drily. Magda could practically hear the blonde rolling her eyes.

“Just because you have what seems to be a perishingly limited imagination, Cassandra, that doesn’t mean that I have to share the same fate.” These two argued like siblings, while the redhead simply smiled and traced her fingers over and around the sickle she held, all the while watching Magda.

“You’ve never shared anything in your life. Why start now?” Cassandra countered.

“You are absolutely correct. Maybe next time you’ll be faster and finally get a bite.” As the blonde replied, the impossible happened. Part of the woman’s body dissolved… and turned into insects. She still held Magda close and tight, but her lower half had utterly disappeared into a swarming mass of flies. Then they suddenly took off together, flying through the castle. Whereas Magda had thought she might have been able to talk her way out of this situation prior to this insanity, now she was utterly filled with dread; a cold fear washing over her. What were these things? How was any of this even possible? Was this how she was going to die? All these thoughts were wiped away as she was dumped, a bit unceremoniously, on the floor of bedchamber.

“Mother… this was found wandering the halls.” The room was mostly dark, lit only by the roaring fire in the hearth. A feminine figure sat behind a desk littered with paperwork. Something was off about the woman. Maybe it was due a combination of the large hat she wore, the dancing shadows caused by the firelight, and the angle Magda was laying at, but something just didn’t look right, and she didn’t know why.

“Ma’am, I can explain. I was on a bus and the driver was trying to extort money from me, so I thought I’d have better luck with getting a ride in your town. The people there were less willing to help, so I came here. I swear I haven’t stolen anything,” she explained in a hurried fashion, hoping they could somehow reach an understanding.

“ ‘My town’? How quaint of you to say that.” The woman’s voice and small chuckle that followed were both rich and cultured, with a foreign affected accent, like she had been educated somewhere other than Romania. Had she been? Did wealthy families still send their children abroad to study? “Whether or not you have stolen anything isn’t the issue, my dear. You are still trespassing, and I do not take kindly to those that trespass on my property.” With that, the woman stood up.

And up.

Magda’s face blanched as the woman’s head drew level with the top of the nearby canopied bed. She had to have been ten feet tall.

“Futu-i!” she yelled, scrambling back and away, only to bump, once again, into the brunette woman, the smiling redhead standing beside her. Hands roughly grabbed Magda, hauling her to her feet. “Ma’am, I’m sorry!” Her voice trembled with fear. “I knocked, but there was no answer and your door was unlocked. Had I known, I wouldn’t have entered, I swear. Please don’t kill me.” That last sentence was said in a pathetic whimper which made the lady smile in a manner that was both pleased and terribly cruel-looking. As if she had heard that request time and time before.

Magda’s stomach sank as she realized she likely had.

The blood stained dresses and sickles were one indication. Her eyes wandered, finding more. There were unusual dark spots on the rug and shackles by the fire. Their impossible height and ability to change into insects. As impossible as it seemed, these women weren’t human. Did vampires really exist? Magda was so in shock and distracted by that thought that she didn’t realize what else was going on until she felt a pressure draw across her left wrist. She blinked. The blonde was holding a knife and Magda could see blood welling up on her wrist. Oddly enough, there was no pain. Just the blood flowing easily and freely.

A large, leather gloved hand cupped her wrist in a firm yet gentle manner. For as lavish as the home decor was, Magda couldn’t help but notice how less than ideal the state of the tall woman’s dress was. The buttons at her wrist were loose, and the fabric? Although it was clean, there were minute stains either from food, in terms of her sleeves and bustline, or from general dirt, if her hemline was any indication. She also saw small repairs where a seam had popped or a tear had formed. It wasn’t the worst stitching she’d seen, but it could have been better. Why was a woman this rich wearing clothing repaired many times over? Yes, she had to have everything custom made, but that surely wasn’t an obstacle, was it?

The lady’s head suddenly dipped into view and almost immediately her tongue was felt along Magda’s wrist. She hissed in pain, forgetting all her questions, and unintentionally tried to pull her hand away, but to no avail. The lady’s grasp was incredibly strong and, in that moment of resistance, they locked eyes.

She had a dread beauty about her. Pale white skin, coal-black hair, deep crimson lips made that much darker by the blood, and eerily captivating yellow eyes. Even with her life currently on the line, Magda was absolutely taken by her.

The tasting was brief, lasting no more than a few seconds. The tall lady stood there for a quiet few moments before making a small hum of approval.

“Take her to the cellar and drain her,” she said in a dismissive manner and a flick of her hand. Almost immediately, Magda found herself being dragged towards the door and to her doom. For what it was worth, she did put up a good fight. Having a brother five years her senior gave Magda the knowledge of how to defend against someone bigger and stronger than her. It probably had been a good thing that, up until this point, she had been nothing but meek and quiet. However, despite her valiant effort and a surprisingly well placed elbow to the brunette’s midsection, she found herself pinned and being dragged away once more.

They say that the strangest things can come out of a person’s mouth when they’re in danger. That they would promise anything just to live a little while longer.

Magda clearly was not an exception to that particular rule.

“Wait!” she exclaimed. “Wait! Your dress! I can make it better! I can do better than whoever you have on hand with your current repairs. I went to school for this! I was on my way to Cluj-Napoca to work at the National Opera as a seamstress!” A slight lie. The National Opera had said to check back with them in six months to a year for a chance at an opening. Until then, she had secured a gig at the North Theatre in Satu Mare. “I know how to sew and I know how to draft patterns! Let me live and I swear I will make you the most beautiful wardrobe made out of the finest fabrics I can find. If money is not an obstacle, I will have you wearing the best silks, satins, brocades, and whatever else pleases you!”

At that, the woman held up a hand and all movement in the room stopped. She studied Magda; scrutinizing and looking for any hint of a lie or falsehood. After a minute that seemed to be drawn out for an eternity, she finally spoke.

“A trial run. Two weeks. You’ll be shown to your new home and given tasks. Complete them,” she ordered. There was no leniency to those words or any sign of gentleness. She then stepped closer to Magda, looking down at her and using her height to cut an even more imposing figure. “Should you fail or try to run, you’ll wish you had died today,” she purred, showing off a wicked little grin. “Bela, tend to her wrist and then escort our new seamstress to her workshop. She has work to do.”

“Yes, mother,” the blonde said, stepping forward and quickly ushering Magda out of the room. Unlike the previous escorting, this time she was gentle. A hand pressing against the small of her back was all that was needed to keep Magda moving. Did she pay attention to where they were going? No. Should she have? Yes, absolutely, but she was still trying to understand what all had just happened.

The room they entered could have been a study or den, perhaps even a catch-all room if the miniature castle in the corner was any indication. Taking a seat at the desk, Magda made the mistake of glancing at her wrist. The incision was neat and clean, but blood had made little rivulet pathways all over her hand and wrist, while a smeared streak up her forearm indicated where the woman’s tongue had been. As if in response of being observed, the wound suddenly began to ache and throb. Magda quickly looked away, not wanting to risk passing out or becoming sick.

She hated the sight of her own blood.

Bela, meanwhile, retrieved a small medical kit from a locked drawer. She then proceeded to carefully and systematically clean almost the entirety of Magda’s forearm and hand, even going as far as checking under her fingernails.

“Five minutes ago, you were fantasizing about drinking my blood,” Magda commented.

“That was five minutes ago,” she answered matter of factly before applying the iodine. It stung and Magda reacted accordingly as every normal human did, by wincing in pain. “Hold still,” Bela ordered, positioning her arm back under the desk light. The suturing of the wound once more made Magda turn away and examine the contents of the room in great detail.

“If this is enough to turn your stomach, then for your sake you had best been telling the truth to mother. She abhors liars.”

“I was telling the truth, I swear it,” the quiet reply came, the reality of her situation now sinking in. Bela made a small, noncommittal noise.

“You should also be careful with how you swear.” Advice now given, the wound was quickly covered in a piece of gauze and neatly wrapped.

“Thank you,” Magda offered. Bela gave no response, only putting the medical kit away and gesturing for Magda to accompany her out of the room. The taller blonde allowed no time for her to look around, keeping the pace at a brisk walk… for her. With her height and longer strides, that meant Magda had to almost jog in order to keep up.

The workshop was…quite the state. It was obvious that no one had been working in here for a rather long time. Magda didn’t know what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Cobwebs, dust, and machinery that, if she were lucky, would actually manage to function for the next two weeks. She wanted to sigh. She wanted to scream and cry or do something that would at least alleviate the frustration of her current situation. However, Bela was probably expecting that, maybe even looking forward to it, just so she could run off to tell her mother and then start sharpening their knives for dinner.

So instead, Magda simply took a deep breath and nodded. “This… will do. Bring whatever items you need repaired and I will take care of them.” There was a drone of insects taking flight behind her and, by the time she turned to look, all Magda saw was the tail end of an insect swarm leaving the room. Once the sound had subsided, she quietly closed the door and sat against it, trying not to cry or to think about the fresh hell she was just been thrown into and what would happen if she failed during these next two weeks.

#drabble #one-shot #Alcina Dimitrescu #Daniela Dimitrescu #Cassandra Dimitrescu #Bela Dimitrescu

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symphonyofthewrite · 3 years

Text

Undead Memory (Ch2)

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix)

Character Focus: Alucard

Summary: What happened during that month in which Alucard was alone in the castle?

Alucard dealing with the aftermath of S2, and trying to cope with the death—or, more accurately, the ghosts—of his parents.

Chapter 2: The Ticking of the Fire, the Hunger of the Clock

Dracula had been the king of vampires for centuries. He walked with death at his stride and destruction lurking in his shadow. All the humans feared him, all the vampires revered him.

Today none would have recognized the husk in the study. Those blank eyes didn’t even have strength enough for malice towards the humans he waged war upon, just…infinite exhaustion. Like killing the world with a lazy wave of his hand. Upon a glance, onlookers would have never said he was the king of the vampires, much less the most feared and fearsome of them all.

Footsteps sounded off behind him, a gentle hand along his shoulder.

“Why don’t you come play with us?” Lisa asked. “It’s not like you’ve got plans or anything.”

“Yes, Father! Come play!” Smaller footsteps now. “Look! Look what I found!”

“Oh! Adrian, where did you get that?” Lisa laughed, though there was concern in her voice.

“Down by the pond!”

“Now, Honey.” She knelt down. “You can’t just take animals from their natural environment.”

“Why not? I’ll be nice to it! It’ll be a wonderful pet!”

“Is this because your father won’t let you get a dog?”

“Maaaybe.”

“I’m sure you would be nice to it, honey.” She ruffled his hair. “But, well…how would you feel if giant hand came and took you from your home?”

“Oh…” Adrian’s voice fell. “I wouldn’t like that.”

“How about we go put it back together?”

“Okay.”

“You coming honey?”

The fire asked him to stay.

“I’m going into town.” Lisa threw her cloak and a smile over her shoulders, “I’ll see you in about a week. Take good care of Adrian while I’m gone, okay?”

He almost heard the ghost of his own voice: “We’ll try not to have too much fun without you.”

A phantom kiss on his cheek.

He barely raised his eye over his shoulder. There was nothing.

We told you not to look, the flames chided him.

The world he once knew turned, and this time the footsteps were louder—of someone taller.

“Father, look what I found!” It was Adrian’s voice, but deeper. Adrian’s hand on his shoulder, but his touch wasn’t so tiny. “This manuscript has to be at least a thousand years old! Where did you get this?!”

—(Some time long gone, just as you are)—

The flames licked at his ear, and told him not to answer.

***

“Then find the one who did the deed. If you loose an army of the night on Wallachia, you cannot undo it, and many thousands of people just as innocent as her will suffer and die…I won’t let you do it. I grieve with you, but I won’t let you commit genocide.”

“There are no innocents! Not anymore!”

He dug his nails into the chair, leaving angry gashes in the leather.

You have nothing left to lose now. The fire hissed. Just stay with us.

So he did.

Alucard leans over the counter, using his knife to make precise shapes in the dough.

“That smells good!”

“Oh you want one, do you?” A woman’s teasing voice.

“Only if I’m allowed." Alucard looks through his arm to see a little version of himself speaking sheepishly, putting his hands behind his back, as if he’d previously taken one when he wasn’t allowed, and feels the need to be extra polite now.

“Yes.” She smiles. “Yes you may.” She hands him a cookie, and his face splits into a smile.

Instead of successfully make the next cut in his own cookie Alucard fumbles with the knife.

The woman’s laugh echoes in his ear, shifting the scene. “No, honey, like this. It’s not the same as when you’re using a sword.”

He wants to look at her, but decides to lean further over his own cookie dough, balling his free hand into a fist.

“She’s right, you know,” a man’s—well, vampire’s—voice says from behind him, “You can be gentler with food than with flesh. Though,” he chuckles, “I suppose, for me it’s the same thing.”

“Vlad.” Lisa warns. “Try not be so vulgar in front of our son.”

Alucard shuts his eyes, as if the scene is indeed vulgar.

—(Rather than the truth: he can't bear how much the words want to make him smile…and he certainly isn’t going to let himself cry)—

“I think you forget, this is a vampire’s lair.”

“I think you forget that it’s both a vampire and a human’s home.”

Alucard doesn’t realize the knife is cutting into his finger until he the silence allows the clock to click its tongue in disappointment.

****

“Woosh!” A child zooms past Alucard in the hall.

He turns to see a younger version of himself carrying a toy bat above him—floating a few inches off the ground himself.

“Wait for me, Son!” His father isn’t far behind. He could easily dash after him in a flash of power, but he clearly wants his son to think he's at least somewhat normal.

Alucard thinks he feels wind brush past him as the memories speed by, but when they fade from earshot he realizes the cold is nothing more than that.

The clock in the other room chimes to notify him it's noon.

You’ll never have that again, say the bells.

*****

“And so, the prince and princess were married, and they lived happily ever after.” Lisa closes the book.

“Aww, it’s over?” Her son whines.

“It was a happy ending though!” She laughs. “That’s all we can ask for, right?”

“May I suggest something with a little more substance next time?” Her husband asks from the other couch, turning the page of his own book.

—(If only you were made of substance after all)—

“What do you have against fairy tales?”

“Nothing. I’m not one for fanciful romances, dashing princes, and the sort.”

“Oh you’re not, are you?” She takes a rose from a vase on the table beside her, smelling it.

He rolls his eyes.

Alucard gets up to read his book in another room, trying to shove the—

miss

you)

out of his head.

Why do the ghosts have to remind him of those stories, of her voice as she read them to him? Why not allow him to read his book today in peace, and blissfully forget?

The silence closes in on him from all sides, and the clock ticks in time to his footsteps.

******

The light from the window splits into dappled bits by the shattered mirror as Alucard runs his finger over the spines of the books, looking for a specific one.

“There are no innocents! Not anymore!”

This time he can’t help whirling around at the sound, horror and fear striking him, and for a moment he's there again, and there's only the sound of his heart, and his father’s raised hand.

When his eyes graze nothing, the scene dissipates like a breath.

Alucard’s hand instinctively moves to his chest, a dull sting echoing at the place where his father’s nails had carved, the tracks remaining in his skin that would probably never completely heal.

He abandons his pursuit of the book, his footsteps getting louder as he marches out of the room.

They’re getting worse, aren’t they? Askes the clock.

*******

Alucard stares at a speck of dirt on the canopy in his bed. It looks kinda like a frog. Or maybe Hungary.

Footsteps sound at the doorway—small ones trying to mask themselves. Once the steps would have made him shoot up and summon his sword. He's used to the ghosts by now.

He narrows his eyes, trying to look without actually sitting up, and sees a small golden face half-hidden in the doorway.

A cold wind passes through him, and for a moment he can't breathe, and draws a hand to his mouth.

“Having trouble sleeping?” Lisa’s ghost—(the thing that passed through him)—sits on the edge of the bed.

Adrian nods.

She pats the bed beside her.

Adrian runs in, as if both relief and fear propel him. He jumps up beside her, making the bed hop a little.

Vlad stirs on the other side, grunting a question.

“Adrian’s had a nightmare.” She runs her hand along her son’s back.

Another grunt.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lisa asks her son.

“Well…there was this…This demon was chasing me. Well, I didn’t know exactly what it was, but it sounded really big…I was really scared…I didn’t know what to do!"

“What’re you scared of a little demon for?” Vlad mutters, half asleep. “You’re strong enough to take those monsters down, son.”

Lisa chuckles, twisting a lock of her son's hair around her finger. “Even if you weren’t—which, you definitely are—your dad is the king of vampires. You know you can always call for assistance, right?”

Another grunt from his father.

That, at least, makes Adrian smile.

Alucard is sure there's only one clock in the room, but, as the silence overtakes the space, it seems every clock in the castle decides to begin chattering with ferocity.

He lays a while in the silence, trying to will his brain into sleep.

Then sits up sharply, throwing off the covers, telling to the clock, and the empty room, in a low voice;

“I have to get out of here.”

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antihero-writings · 3 years

Text

Undead Memory (Ch2)

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix)

Character Focus: Alucard

Summary: What happened during that month in which Alucard was alone in the castle? Alucard dealing with the aftermath of S2, and trying to cope with the death—or, more accurately, the ghosts—of his parents.

Chapter 2: The Ticking of the Fire, the Hunger of the Clock

Dracula had been the king of vampires for centuries. He walked with death at his stride and destruction lurking in his shadow. All the humans feared him, all the vampires revered him.

Footsteps sounded off behind him, a gentle hand along his shoulder.

“Why don’t you come play with us?” Lisa asked. “It’s not like you’ve got plans or anything.”

“Yes, Father! Come play!” Smaller footsteps now. “Look! Look what I found!”

“Oh! Adrian, where did you get that?” Lisa laughed, though there was concern in her voice.

“Down by the pond!”

“Now, Honey.” She knelt down. “You can’t just take animals from their natural environment.”

“Why not? I’ll be nice to it! It’ll be a wonderful pet!”

“Is this because your father won’t let you get a dog?”

“Maaaybe.”

“I’m sure you would be nice to it, honey.” She ruffled his hair. “But, well…how would you feel if giant hand came and took you from your home?”

“Oh…” Adrian’s voice fell. “I wouldn’t like that.”

“How about we go put it back together?”

“Okay.”

“You coming honey?”

The fire asked him to stay.

“I’m going into town.” Lisa threw her cloak and a smile over her shoulders, “I’ll see you in about a week. Take good care of Adrian while I’m gone, okay?”

He almost heard the ghost of his own voice: “We’ll try not to have too much fun without you.”

A phantom kiss on his cheek.

He barely raised his eye over his shoulder. There was nothing.

We told you not to look, the flames chided him.

The world he once knew turned, and this time the footsteps were louder—of someone taller.

—(Some time long gone, just as you are)—

The flames licked at his ear, and told him not to answer.

***

“There are no innocents! Not anymore!”

He dug his nails into the chair, leaving angry gashes in the leather.

You have nothing left to lose now. The fire hissed. Just stay with us.

So he did.

Alucard leans over the counter, using his knife to make precise shapes in the dough.

“That smells good!”

“Oh you want one, do you?” A woman’s teasing voice.

“Yes.” She smiles. “Yes you may.” She hands him a cookie, and his face splits into a smile.

Instead of successfully make the next cut in his own cookie Alucard fumbles with the knife.

The woman’s laugh echoes in his ear, shifting the scene. “No, honey, like this. It’s not the same as when you’re using a sword.”

He wants to look at her, but decides to lean further over his own cookie dough, balling his free hand into a fist.

“Vlad.” Lisa warns. “Try not be so vulgar in front of our son.”

Alucard shuts his eyes, as if the scene is indeed vulgar.

—(Rather than the truth: he can't bear how much the words want to make him smile…and he certainly isn’t going to let himself cry)—

“I think you forget, this is a vampire’s lair.”

“I think you forget that it’s both a vampire and a human’s home.”

Alucard doesn’t realize the knife is cutting into his finger until he the silence allows the clock to click its tongue in disappointment.

****

“Woosh!” A child zooms past Alucard in the hall.

He turns to see a younger version of himself carrying a toy bat above him—floating a few inches off the ground himself.

“Wait for me, Son!” His father isn’t far behind. He could easily dash after him in a flash of power, but he clearly wants his son to think he's at least somewhat normal.

Alucard thinks he feels wind brush past him as the memories speed by, but when they fade from earshot he realizes the cold is nothing more than that.

The clock in the other room chimes to notify him it's noon.

You’ll never have that again, say the bells.

*****

“And so, the prince and princess were married, and they lived happily ever after.” Lisa closes the book.

“Aww, it’s over?” Her son whines.

“It was a happy ending though!” She laughs. “That’s all we can ask for, right?”

“May I suggest something with a little more substance next time?” Her husband asks from the other couch, turning the page of his own book.

—(If only you were made of substance after all)—

“What do you have against fairy tales?”

“Nothing. I’m not one for fanciful romances, dashing princes, and the sort.”

“Oh you’re not, are you?” She takes a rose from a vase on the table beside her, smelling it.

He rolls his eyes.

Alucard gets up to read his book in another room, trying to shove the—

miss

you)

out of his head.

Why do the ghosts have to remind him of those stories, of her voice as she read them to him? Why not allow him to read his book today in peace, and blissfully forget?

The silence closes in on him from all sides, and the clock ticks in time to his footsteps.

******

The light from the window splits into dappled bits by the shattered mirror as Alucard runs his finger over the spines of the books, looking for a specific one.

“There are no innocents! Not anymore!”

This time he can’t help whirling around at the sound, horror and fear striking him, and for a moment he's there again, and there's only the sound of his heart, and his father’s raised hand.

When his eyes graze nothing, the scene dissipates like a breath.

Alucard’s hand instinctively moves to his chest, a dull sting echoing at the place where his father’s nails had carved, the tracks remaining in his skin that would probably never completely heal.

He abandons his pursuit of the book, his footsteps getting louder as he marches out of the room.

They’re getting worse, aren’t they? Askes the clock.

*******

Alucard stares at a speck of dirt on the canopy in his bed. It looks kinda like a frog. Or maybe Hungary.

Footsteps sound at the doorway—small ones trying to mask themselves. Once the steps would have made him shoot up and summon his sword. He's used to the ghosts by now.

He narrows his eyes, trying to look without actually sitting up, and sees a small golden face half-hidden in the doorway.

A cold wind passes through him, and for a moment he can't breathe, and draws a hand to his mouth.

“Having trouble sleeping?” Lisa’s ghost—(the thing that passed through him)—sits on the edge of the bed.

Adrian nods.

She pats the bed beside her.

Adrian runs in, as if both relief and fear propel him. He jumps up beside her, making the bed hop a little.

Vlad stirs on the other side, grunting a question.

“Adrian’s had a nightmare.” She runs her hand along her son’s back.

Another grunt.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lisa asks her son.

“Well…there was this…This demon was chasing me. Well, I didn’t know exactly what it was, but it sounded really big…I was really scared…I didn’t know what to do!"

“What’re you scared of a little demon for?” Vlad mutters, half asleep. “You’re strong enough to take those monsters down, son.”

Another grunt from his father.

That, at least, makes Adrian smile.

Alucard is sure there's only one clock in the room, but, as the silence overtakes the space, it seems every clock in the castle decides to begin chattering with ferocity.

He lays a while in the silence, trying to will his brain into sleep.

Then sits up sharply, throwing off the covers, telling to the clock, and the empty room, in a low voice;

“I have to get out of here.”

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jettingtothemoon · 4 years

Text

Rescue You; chapter 1

➳ pairing: hector x witch|reader ➳ genre: fantasy, angst ➳ warnings: violence, swearing, smut, mentions of rape, slavery, spoilers for seasons 1 thorough 3. ➳ word count: 2505 ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ a/n: this is just a little alternate sequence of events i decided to concoct based around Hector because his sweet little heart went through so much in season 3 ➳ summary: In which y/n, a witch from Dracula's court, tries to save the forgemaster from his fate.

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10

The Witch

Three. There were three humans in Dracula's court. The forgemasters, Hector and Isaac, and the magician, y/n. Well, most just called you a witch but you preferred magician, it made you sound less evil.

You were not evil, far from it, but you knew better than to stand in the way of an angry vampire. Dracula was mourning, he was angry at the human race because they had killed his wife. You thought, you hoped, that he would kill a few and stop. You never thought it would have gotten so out of hand. The worst part about it was the way Hector believed everything he was told. He actually believed the humans wouldn't suffer.

Hector had no compassion for the human race. In fact, he hated them. But still, he didn't want them to suffer, he just wanted them to end. He believed Dracula when he said he was going to thin the population and keep whoever was left alive and well. He believed that the survivors would live in peace and be used as cattle by the vampires. He believed that they would not suffer, that they would allow the vampires to feed on them as payment for a peaceful life. He was so easily deceived, so easily manipulated.

Despite everything, Hector was a gentle soul. He loved his animals and he cared for you and Isaac to some extent. He even cared for Dracula. That was why it surprised you that he was the one to betray him. Now it was all over. Dracula was dead by the hand of his own son and what was left of his council had scattered.

You and Hector were friends, nothing more. That was how it was supposed to be but there was always something about him that had you wishing for more. He could never feel the same about you though, you knew that.

What surprised you the most was that he had joined forces with Carmilla, the one bitch that you couldn't stand. You knew Dracula needed to be stopped but you were too afraid to do anything back then. Carmilla tried to overthrow him but in the end, even she was left fleeing with what was left of her army all thanks to a speaker magician who had moved Dracula's castle and ruined her plan.

It had been months and the last you knew, Hector was still with her. Though you soon came to hear that he wasn't with her voluntarily.

You were in a tavern when you heard the news; that a vampire army had been marching their way across Wallachia. Carmilla's Army. Now, you were not surprised that she had fled home with her men. No, not at all. What did surprise you was that you had heard they had a forgemaster in tow. A forgemaster with long silver hair. Hector. He wasn't with them willingly though. No, he was in chains. His body said to be broken, bloody and bruised as they dragged him along behind.

He was not in league with Carmilla, that was certain, but if he was still alive then she was not finished. She had need for a forgemaster which only meant one thing, she wanted an undead army of her own.

It was in the tavern, when you retired to your room, that you thought of seeing where Hector was. It was an old spell but all you needed was a mirror. You sat in front of it and took in a deep breath as you prepared yourself for what you were going to see.

The image that appeared in the mirror was worse than you had been expecting but there he was. Hector. His naked form lying in the corner of a cell, his body only moving to shiver amongst the cold. His hair was a mess, dirt tangled between the silver waves. He was covered head to toe in small cuts and bruises, his purpling eye standing out against his sunken face. He was much thinner than he was before and his blue eyes were more of a void than anything else.

You gasped, a hand covering your mouth as your eyes welled up. Seeing him in such a state, seeing him so broken, it made you sad at first. A cold tear ran down your cheek before your fists began to clenched as the anger came, blowing past like a hurricane.

Hector was a child in a man's body; you were not the first to describe him in this way. He was sweet and caring but naive and easy to manipulate. He was compassionate about those he cared about, though they were few. He didn't deserve it, any of it. Just seeing him that way made you want to wrap your arms around him, to cradle him and run your fingers through his hair. You wanted to tell him that it was going to be okay, that you were going to save him.

You looked to your side, down at the dog you had grabbed as you fled Dracula's castle. Cezar tilted his head to the side and whined as he looked into the mirror. His one blue eye looked upon his master and he whined some more.

There was one thing Hector loved in this world and it was his animals, his night creatures. In particular, Cezar. The little, undead pug nudged his nose against you, licking your hand in comfort when you reached out to him.

You picked him up, glancing back into the mirror one last time before turning your attention back to the dog and scratching his head.

"I know, I know. We'll rescue him, you and me. He... he'll be okay." You tried to hide the way your voice broke as you put the mirror away and turned your attention to the sad, little dog in your arms.

You smiled slightly, though it was a sad smile. Hector was alive and, for now, that would have to be enough. He just has to hold out until you get there.

Every day that passed you were travelling. Fighting any night creatures you came across on the road. You camped in the woods with little Cezar, hugging him to your chest as you tried to get some rest. On rare occasions, you had managed to spend the night in a proper bed but you couldn't enjoy it, not while you knew he was still there lying in that dark, damp cell.

It had been weeks since the day you looked into the mirror. Weeks since you set off on your rescue mission and you were finally almost there. Styria. You had only visited once before. Not much had changed, Carmilla still ruled over the land with the rest of the council of sisters by her side.

You could see the castle in the distance, Carmilla's castle. You knew it was suicide to go up against the council of sisters alone, even with your magic. That was why you had thought of a plan. A plan that you were not particularly fond of but if it would help you save Hector then so be it.

You sat in your camp, the last stop before arriving at your destination, and sighed. Were you really ready for this? To face them? To see him? You were not sure. What you were sure of, was that you had left Hector waiting for far too long.

He was your friend, more than that, and he needed you now. He never knew about your feelings for him. He was always oblivious to such things. You were his friend and only you wished to be more. Isaac knew. He knew how you felt about Hector; he'd asked you about it once. Isaac cared for Hector too once, before he betrayed Dracula. Now, if Isaac was even searching for him you knew it would only be to kill him.

The three of you were friends once, just about. You respected each other, cared for one another to some extent but now... Now, you were not so sure. Isaac would kill Hector for his betrayal and probably you too as you were trying to rescue him. Maybe he still had some of that respect for him but maybe he despised him too much to care. Whatever it was, Isaac was long gone. Sent into the desert by Dracula, the vampire who saved his one friend before his inevitable demise. He was a madman but he was a madman who, in his last moments, saved the one person he still considered his friend. You supposed that counted for something.

By the time morning came, you were already at the foot of the castle. Cezar was by your side and you prepared yourself for what was to come.

"You. Stop!" One of Carmilla's soldiers stopped you, readying his weapon as you approached.

You sighed and held your arms up to show you meant no harm.

"You know who I am, yes?", slowly the soldier nodded his head, "Good, I'm here to see Carmilla."

When the soldier showed no signs of moving, you rolled up your sleeves. "Come on now, I don't want to make a mess. Just go inform her that I'm here. I'll wait out here."

Sensing your seriousness, the soldier nodded and turned around. He clearly had no desire to become a scorch on the ground and ran off to do what you had asked.

You turned your back to the castle, sitting on the ground beside Cezar as you waited to be collected. The council of sisters did not scare you but you knew that you would need to resort to more complicated measures if you wanted to even have a chance at freeing Hector.

A few moments passed until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"y/n. How lovely to have you here, I see you brought Cezar with you." Carmilla's voice was as monotonous as usual and showed how she was really feeling about your presence at her castle.

You climbed to your feet, smiling at the woman whom you detested as you greeted her, "Long time no see. I wasn't sure what happened to you and Hector after Braila but when I heard about your army marching back home I set out right away."

Her icy blue eyes showed you that she had little trust in your motives for being here. You knew that Carmilla saw all humans as beneath her, yourself included, but you also knew that she would value someone with your capabilities.

Not long after that, you found yourself being brought into the castle and before long you were standing before the entire council of sisters.

"What is it you want, witch?" Carmilla sighed, crossing her arms as she waited for you to explain to her and her sisters.

You had been carrying Cezar this entire time and scratched behind his ear as you set your plan in motion. "Dracula is dead, abandoned night creatures roam the wilderness and ordinary humans continue to slaughter my kind in the name of God. I wish to help you conquer them in place of Dracula."

At your words, Carmilla raised an eyebrow.

"You want to aid us?" Your head snapped in another direction as one of the other sisters spoke up. She was smaller than the rest with bright ginger hair and accompanying red eyes.

"I do." You nodded, ignoring the anger building up inside you.

You had to make them believe you. You had to trick them into trusting you if you were ever to free Hector.

The vampires exchanged glances before turning back to you. Carmilla had come to a decision. "Very well but if you so much as step an inch out of line it will be your head, witch."

You nodded, hoping to at least seem sincere. The red-haired vampire stood from her chair and approached you. "Come with me, I'll see you to a room."

She placed a hand on your back and guided you out of the room. As soon as you were outside, she began to speak again, "I'm Lenore by the way."

He voice was soft, unlike what you had heard from most vampires. She seemed somewhat gentle but you knew she could kill you in the blink of an eye had she wanted to.

After a couple of moments of silence, you spoke up again, "Lenore," she hummed and turned her head to you, "Where is Hector? He was with Carmilla, was he not?"

You knew it was probably not the best of times to start asking about him but the thought of him still rotting in that cell made you sick.

At the mention of his name, the aura around Lenore seemed to shift slightly. "Hector? He's probably working at his forge."

Hector? Willingly making night creatures for the people who treated him like a slave? I don't think so. You thought, remembering the state he was in when you last looked into that mirror.

"Would it be possible to see him? I have something of his," you asked, gesturing to the little dog in your arms.

She hummed through pursed lips in thought for a moment before speaking, "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm."

Something about Lenore gave you a feeling that maybe she wasn't a bad person, that maybe she wasn't like Carmilla at all. Something else, however, had you shuddering every time she spoke but you couldn't put your finger on the reason why.

A few more halls and you were standing in front of a closed door. Lenore stepped in front of you, reaching out to the handle and you felt your heart tensing in your chest. He was in there, right through those doors. The broken man you had come to rescue, the broken man whom you couldn't bear see any more harm come to. That or she had figured you out and was just bringing you here to kill you.

When the door opened and you stepped inside, Cezar was jumping out of your arms and running across the room.

"Cezar?"

There he was, Hector. His voice almost sounded as it did the last time you heard it but there was something different about it, like an empty pit residing in the depths of his soul. He picked the dog up with a faint smile, allowing Cezar to lick at his face for a moment before lifting his gaze to the door.

His cold blue eyes landed on you first and they widened in shock. "y/n?"

Then, he glanced over to Lenore and it seemed as though every inch of his body tensed. You could feel the energy between the two of them. Lenore was hard to read but Hector, he hated her though he seemed somewhat conflicted.

Something happened between the two of them, something that had you clenching your fists. She hurt him, that was evident, but you were unsure of how. What you were sure of, was that Hector didn't seem overly pleased to see you.

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10

#netflix castlevania #castlevania #hector #hector x reader

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killrqueen7 · 4 years

Text

Be My Best Nightmare - Dracula/Gender Neutral! Reader

Rated G - Just some good ol’ cuddles and a bit of Stockholm Syndrome

You awake with a start, sitting up in your bed with a hand over your heaving chest. The dream that had awoken you was nothing short of terrifying, and you’re shaking at the memory of it.

Flames danced along the castle walls, reaching up with furious heat to consume the only home you had ever known. You knelt, wailing in the grass as the angry townspeople around you shouted horrible names – “Devil!” “Monster!” – and threw flaming molotovs into the windows. You could hear the screaming of your beloved husband as he battled with staying inside his burning home or stepping out into the sunlight where he would surely be turned to dust. Suddenly, his cloak was consumed by the greedy flames and he went up like kindling, howling in agony and despair. You tried to run to him, crying “No! No, put him out! He hasn’t done it! He’s innocent!” but you were held back by your waist. You were forced to watch as the only man who had ever touched you with kindness was taken from the world.

As you stare at the covered window, beams of orange and rising sunlight peeking from the curtains as they flutter in the breeze, you are consumed with the need to see him. To make sure he is still here; not alive, not breathing, but still here, with you. Your socked feet gently touch the carpeted stone of the floor and you push your hair from your face as you look around your room. You do not know the time but guess that it must be around five or six in the morning. Dracula is surely sleeping by now; deep within the heart of the castle. Avoiding the lines of sunlight striped across your bedroom floor, you tiptoe along the edge of the room to the door that separates you from the rest of Castle Dracula.

Dracula left you ignorant of where he lay during the daylight hours; content to keep you as his bride but at arm’s length. For a long while, you spent most of your time in The Box, cramped and bathed in darkness. Your only company were the cats that he sometimes fed you through the hollow glass sphere, and the brides stuffed within the other boxes – though they never spoke and only moaned in pain and hunger. One of his brides, his least favorite of the three, was fed only flies. Poor dear. You had been nothing more than an experiment, but as time wore on, you began to long for his visits, even if they were only to feed you and the others.

He hummed as he did so, a different tune every time. He was such a cultured man, that Dracula, and he hummed sweet melodies in a deep voice of honeyed molasses. When you closed your eyes, you could almost hear the waves of the cello and the bright tittering of the flute. You had always loved music; attending orchestras and operas in your home country before you were lured into his arms and further, into his home deep within the Carpathian Mountains.

Most of all, you remembered his hands. Large, with long fingers, and callused from battles fought before your time. His sleeves were always pushed up to his elbows whenever he fed you and you had to fight the desire to reach out and drag your fingertips along the prominent vein that ran the length of his forearm. Once, when you attempted to touch his hand, he’d jerked it back so quickly that it shook the box you were in. He said nothing, but simply locked the small door and walked away, leaving you to your meal and the lonely darkness for another three days.

The next time he’d come, humming like nothing had happened, you pressed your ear against the box, fingernails bloody from scratching the day’s tally into the wood under your cheek. You recognized the tune and softly, began to hum along with him.

“In The Hall of the Mountain King.” You said when he’d stopped humming. “Now that is appropriate.” Smiling at your own joke, you pulled your knees to your chest and waited. You heard slow footsteps approaching and they stopped nearest the corner opposite you.

“You know music.” He stated, the first bit of conversation proposed to you in nearly half a year. He wasn’t asking. He knew.

“A bit,” You answered anyway, growing hopeful. “I was learning to play the mandolin before…coming here.” You did not want to disappoint him or scare him away. “I dabbled in the piano.”

You could nearly hear Dracula contemplating your statements, but soon it grew so eerily quiet and you were afraid that he’d left.

“I could play for you!” You told him, desperate to be out of the box. “And if I am not good enough, I can get better.”

More silence.

Then, the sound of the door unlatching. A sound you hadn’t heard in 174 days.

You’ve been Dracula’s personal musician for the better part of a year, growing more comfortable with the keys as the days went on. Dracula, of course, owns only the best instruments, and brings to you experts in the fields of string and keys so that you might drink from them and learn pieces played for his ear alone.

You love playing for him, but a larger part of you wishes to dance with him instead.

Tiptoeing through the shadows of the castle and holding a lamp in your right hand, you reach a set of stairs leading down into what seems to be a cellar. Just down those stairs and through a dark passage, where you were forbidden from going, lay the man you longed for. Dracula had opened his home to you, allowing you free reign of the rest of the castle, but the corridors beyond these stairs were off limits. It was not unfair, you know that. Dracula is, above all things, fair. He is the picture of politeness; a true gentleman in all ways – kind, strong, gentle and generous. You are so fond of him that it hurts and have even began referring to him as your husband. Should a bride not have a groom?

Before you can change your mind, you take your first step down into the darkness. Your left hand caresses the stone wall beside you and your eyes struggle to adjust to the shadows beyond your light. Shadows which you had discovered one early morning, before the sun had come up, when curiously following Dracula to this storage room beneath his castle. He’d floated down the corridors and then simply disappeared like he was made of nothing and you hadn’t mentioned it that night at dinner. The only discussion he’d made of it was to implore you to avoid going down those stairs again; pointing out that the rest of the castle and its grounds were yours to roam. You did not ask why but nodded in agreement and continued playing for him a familiar tune.

Once again, you enter the storage room and brush your hands along the top of one of the wooden boxes. You are sure the contents could tell a great many stories; secrets of Dracula’s past. There must be hundreds of these crates in the room, stacked taller than you stand. Each of the crates are nailed tightly shut and briefly, you consider spending some time in here, prying them open and diving into a bit of a history lesson. What sort of treasures lay within these boxes, forgotten in the dark and the mildew? What sort of memories would Dracula have squirreled away down here?

The squeak of a rather large rat scurrying across your foot breaks you from your enchantment. The contents of these boxes are none of your business. You do not wish to be any more rude than you are already being by entering a place where you have been forbidden. You do not want to anger your master and end up in that box again. The thought alone sends a cold rush down your spine and you proceed, past the towers of wooden crates, and further into yet another dark and narrow corridor.

The very next room you come upon is a dead end and is largely taken up by a large stone crypt, upon which is chiseled the surname ‘DRACULA’. Separating the A from the C is fissure that extends from one end to the other, wider in separation in some places than others. Slowly, you creep around to the other end of the room and peer down at the crest split in half by the fracture in the stone, however, something else catches your eye and you raise your lamp to see clearly.

Smooth skin upon a relaxed, sleeping face. The sharp slope of a nose, dark brows, and long, black lashes that brush just the very tops of his cheeks. At the corner of his lips is just the faintest smear of blood. The rest of his face is marked with lines of his age in life, made even more beautiful in the innocence of sleep. Dracula, your master, lies in this box – his burial casket; a place meant for eternal sleep. It smells of earth and is intoxicating in its contents.

Slowly, his eyes open and it startles you. Gasping, you step back as Dracula reaches up and pushes the stone slabs aside like they weigh nothing. “M-master!” You cry out, holding your hands up in surrender. His teeth are borne and his eyes red; disturbed from his deathly sleep by a disobedient bride. Slowly, he rises from his grave and you, shaking like a leaf, begin to beg his forgiveness. “I am sorry, master. I am sorry to have disturbed you from your slumber. Please, I am not here to harm you.”

He approaches you, soft growls bubbling from the back of his throat. “Then what for?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” You answer and even to your ears it sounds childish. “Nightmares. Horrible dreams…I- needed to see that you were still…” You stop to take a breath, meeting his eyes for only a moment before averting them to the ground once more.

In the light of the lamp, you notice that his eyes have begun to lose the red in his iris. His shoulders relax and despite your worry, he hasn’t attacked. Instead of taking you for his next meal, he simply sighs and leans against the slab of stone covering his dreary bed. You watch the vampire pinch the bridge of his aquiline nose and then slide his palm further down his face to pinch at the corners of his lips and clean them of any remaining blood. “You know, there is a reason why I asked you not to come down here. It’s dangerous.” He sounds exhausted; defeated.

You don’t speak, afraid of angering him. You simply nod. He looks over at you, brows pinched in the middle as he regards you for the longest few seconds of your life. “I don’t think I was being unreasonable.”

“No,” You finally say, lowering your head once more.

“No,” He repeats and licks his lips, studying you for a long moment, “Come on then.”

You lift your head in surprise, meeting those dark eyes which, for a moment, seem amused at your disbelief. “M-master?”

“I said, come on. Climb in.” Dracula gestures into the tomb and tilts his head in a manner that you would say is almost adorable. “I am very tired, and I can see that you are as well. Or is this not what you were seeking me for?”

“I-“ You start. Surely, he cannot be serious. He wants you to sleep with him, in there? Slowly, you take a step closer and glance inside. There isn’t a pillow or even a blanket. Just stone and earth. You hesitate.

“You’re welcome to go back to your own bed if this isn’t up to your standards.” The count offers, fingers curling around the slab on either side of his thighs.

“No,” You say a little too quickly. Return to your bed and pass up a chance to sleep next to the man you’ve been pining over for months? The choice was obvious. “No, I- this is fine. Perfect.”

The count’s dark brows raise and then lower in amusement. “Perfect, is it? I’d say that’s being generous but given the things that you’ve been okay with these past months, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were genuine.”

“No, it’s great. Thank you, master.” You meet his eyes, asking that he believe you.

Dracula grimaces, and for a moment, you’re worried that you’ve displeased him. “Just Dracula from now on, alright? Leave the ‘master’ business to my lawyer.” He offers his large hand and you take it, doing your best to climb into the tomb with him. Once you’re standing inside, he reaches past you, his face just centimeters from your own, eyes locked on yours as he extinguishes the lamp. You thank whichever god is listening that it is too dark for him to see the rush of red in your cheeks. You are absolutely gone on this man; he has to know it.

You watch as he lies down in the shadow of the tomb and peers up at you. Before he can say a word, you sit beside him, as best as you can given the space that you have. You glance at him again and bite your bottom lip when you feel his hand on your back. “You’re overthinking it.” He tells you. “Lie down, now. You can use me as a pillow. Any part of me you wish.”

You take a deep breath and then gradually lower yourself into a prone position. Carefully, the count curls his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer so that your cheek rests on his left pectoral. He is surprisingly warm, and you begin to relax when he uses his other arm to pull the slabs closed above you. Bathed now in darkness, you bury yourself further into his side and smile when you feel his soft breath rustling your hair. Despite the cold earth beneath your bodies and the inherent danger in falling asleep next to a vampire, this is a dream. He is solid in your arms; real and broad and not ashes on the ground.

You feel the gentle press of his palm against your cheek and then soft lips against your forehead that sends a wave of warmth and content through your body.

“Sweet dreams, my darling bride. Let the beautiful children of the night carry away those dark dreams and replace them with only peace.”

You close your eyes and allow his voice to carry you away.

Tagging @thebeautyofdisorder @mephd @hoefordarkness @lets-talk-about-claes-baby @dracula-s-bride @claesbangblogblr @claesbang @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @bangclaesbang @bangtheking @punk-courtesan @festering-queen

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#bbc dracula #claes bang #dracula #self-insert fic #dracula x reader #dracula x gender neutral reader #my fic #my gif

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