Synopsis: You signed away a year of your life to escape debt, never expecting your tall and intimidating employer to be a literal vampire. Now the clock is striking midnight, the contract is up, and she has you pinned to her desk with a terrifying realization, you are never gonna leave.
~~ Part one *You are here!* ~~ Part two ~~
PAIRING: Eloise Bathory x GN!Servant!Reader.
WC: 3,934 Words total.
Warnings: Captivity (kinda), power imbalance, power abuse, reader and eloise are age appropriate, blood, violence, kinda financial coercion.
You had precisely three dollars and forty-two cents left in your checking account, a stack of past-due notices thick enough to kill a man, and loan sharks who had explicitly promised to bounce your head off the pavement by sunrise.
You didn't know vampires existed. Nobody did. That was kind of the whole point of them being mythical, blood-sucking monsters.
If you had known, you probably wouldn't have answered that deeply unsettling, unindexed forum post on the dark web. You had been searching for anything—anything—that offered under-the-table live-in work with an immediate cash advance. The listing had been incredibly blunt, written in an absurdly formal, almost archaic font: “Seeking a fragile mortal for exclusive domestic labor and archival restoration at a private estate. Full financial liabilities cleared upon arrival. Absolute isolation required. No electronic wizard boxes permitted.”
You genuinely thought it was a wealthy, eccentric tech-billionaire with a weird historical roleplay fetish. Or maybe a cult. Honestly? You didn't care. A cult sounded vastly preferable to having your kneecaps shattered. You took the advance, watched your debt balance drop to zero, and boarded a one-way bus to the countryside.
Which brought you here. Standing on the porch of a massive, aggressively gothic estate at three o'clock in the morning, shivering in the damp air, wondering if you had just made the biggest mistake of your miserable life.
The massive oak door swung open with a slow, heavy creak.
You expected a reclusive old tech-bro. You expected some tech-hating hermit.
Instead, the doorway was entirely filled by a woman who looked barely older than you, though she towered over you so completely that you had to tilt your head back just to make eye contact. Eloise Bathory was breathtaking, a statuesque force of nature whose commanding height gave her an immediate, unyielding presence. She was incredibly tall, her elegant, statuesque silhouette perfectly filled out her aggressively tight Victorian corset. Her face was a marvel of flawless, striking beauty. All sharp almost unforgiving curves, a long straight nose complimenting her sharp cheekbones and jaw.
But it was her eyes that made your breath catch in your throat. A piercing, predatory red, completely unblinking.
"So," she drawled, her voice a deep, rich velvet that sent a completely unbidden shiver straight down your spine. "The mortal lamb finally stumbles into my domain. Look at you. Fragile. Pathetic. Sweating like a beast in the field."
Great. Fantastic. My new boss is a Victorian cosplayer with a god complex.
"Hi," you squeaked, holding your single duffel bag like a shield. "I'm the new archivist? From the listing?"
Eloise stepped back, waving a pale, ring-adorned hand to signal you inside. "Enter, then. Try not to track the filth of the modern world onto my rugs. I have tolerated the stench of your kind only because my estate requires upkeep that is beneath my station."
You stepped into the foyer, and your brain instantly short-circuited. The house was a walking identity crisis. Towering candelabras dripped expensive wax onto floorboards, and heavy brocade drapes blocked out every hint of the outside world. But right next to a vintage, velvet-lined chaise lounge sat a blinking, high-tech digital air purifier. In the corner, a giant, stainless-steel smart fridge hummed softly, completely ruining the "undead countess" aesthetic.
Eloise closed the door with a heavy, echoing thud. The lock clicked with an alarming finality.
She turned back to you, crossing her arms over her chest, her posture radiating an overpowering, casual strength. "You will maintain the archives. You will polish the silver. And you will never, under any circumstances, question my decrees. Am I understood, worm?"
"Crystal," you muttered, your throat dry. "Do you... want me to log my hours on an Excel sheet, or...?"
Eloise blinked. The predatory, terrifying aura cracked for a fraction of a second, replaced by a profound, vacant confusion. She tilted her head, her sharp jawline catching the firelight.
"An... eggshell sweet?" she repeated, her voice losing its dramatic edge and sounding genuinely bewildered. "Why would I want a sweet made of eggshells? I do not possess the capacity to taste sweetness, mortal. Are you mocking me?"
You stared at her. Is she serious?
"No, an Excel sheet. On a computer? For data tracking?"
Eloise’s eyes narrowed, and that was the exact moment your reality fractured. Her lips curled back just enough to reveal the unsettling sharpness of her pointed canines. They weren't just long—they were razor-sharp, glistening under the candlelight, completely inhuman.
"Do not speak to me of the wizard boxes!" she snarled, a low, animalistic rumble vibrating from her chest that literally shook the floorboards beneath your sneakers. "The glass rectangles that whisper in numbers. My memories before my dark awakening are... fragmented. The world has become noisy. If you bring a whispering rectangle into my sight, I shall smash it into dust!"
Your blood ran entirely cold. The fangs. The unnatural pallor. The terrifying, casual strength. The complete lack of modern knowledge.
Oh my god. She’s not an eccentric gothic woman.
She’s a literal vampire.
You backed up a step, your spine hitting the heavy oak door. You lunged for the handle, but Eloise was already there. She didn't even seem to walk; she simply blurred, appearing right in front of you, her massive frame blocking your view of the entire room. She rested one hand on the door right above your head, completely caging you in.
"Going somewhere?" she murmured, her red eyes darkening with a sudden, intense flash of crimson. "You signed the contract, little bird. Your debts are paid. Your old life is gone. You belong to this estate now."
You swallowed thickly, looking up into the face of a beautiful, dim-witted predator who had just bought your life without you even realizing it.
Suffering. That was going to be your life now.
By the third month, you had established a rhythm, which mostly consisted of you doing back-breaking labor while Eloise hovered over you like a beautiful, overbearing shadow.
You had learned a few things about her. First, she was a trans woman who took immense pride in her statuesque, powerful and beautiful build. She frequently mentioned how her new, immortal form finally matched the raw, commanding strength she was always meant to possess. Second, she was incredibly insecure about being a "newbie" in the local vampire coven, which explained why she refused to wear anything other than heavy silk, lace, and velvet, even when it was eighty degrees outside.
Currently, you were perched on top of a rolling library ladder, dusting the top shelves of her absurdly oversized collection of leather-bound books. It was exhausting. Your muscles ached, and a bead of sweat rolled lazily down your temple.
"You are missing a spot," a voice boomed from directly beneath you.
You jumped, nearly losing your footing. You looked down to see Eloise standing at the base of the ladder. She had her hands on her hips, her auburn-black hair pinned back, looking up at you with that perpetual look of quiet, predatory calculation.
"I didn't miss it, I'm getting to it," you huffed, wiping your brow. "You know, if you let me use a vacuum with an extension hose, this would take ten minutes."
"I have told you, I will not have the roaring mechanical beast in my sanctuary!" Eloise snarled, though there was no real heat in it. It was her default setting. "It agitates my senses. Dust it by hand, as is tradition."
"Tradition is giving me carpal tunnel," you grumbled under your breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, Countess."
You turned back to the shelf, reaching out to grab a heavy volume, but your foot slipped on the smooth wooden rung of the ladder. A sharp gasp left your throat as you fell backward, the world tilting violently as you braced for impact with the hard hardwood floor.
You didn't hit the ground.
Instead, you slammed into something incredibly solid, yet entirely forgiving. Soft yet unyielding arms caught you effortlessly out of mid-air. Eloise didn't even stumble. She caught you like you weighed absolutely nothing, her powerful physique absorbing the impact without breaking a sweat.
You froze, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. You were completely cradled against her chest. Up close, she radiated a faint, pleasant scent of sunbaked old paper and expensive metal, underlying the terrifying chill of her skin.
Oh god. My weakness… Goddamnit why is she so attractive and also strong!?
The thought blindsided you so fast you nearly choked on your own spit. You snapped your head up, your face burning with a furious, uncontainable blush.
Eloise was staring down at you. Her face was just inches from yours, all hard edges and chiseled perfection. Her bright red eyes were blown wide, the pupils dilated so heavily that the red was almost entirely swallowed by black. She wasn't dropping you. In fact, her grip around your midsection tightened, anchoring you against her side with an unyielding, casual strength.
"You are incredibly clumsy," she murmured, her voice dropping into a low, rough register that vibrated directly against your back. "A single fall would break you. Your bones are like glass."
"You can put me down now," you squeaked, your internal monologue screaming at you to get a grip.
She didn't, hey, how does it feel to be carried around like a ragdoll? Nevertheless, She carried you over to the velvet chaise lounge, dropping you onto it with an efficiency that felt entirely too practiced. She leaned over you, caging you in with her arms on either side of your head, looming over you like an ancient sentinel.
"You will rest," she decreed, her tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. "If you break yourself, who will organize my texts? I cannot have my property damaged by sheer incompetence."
"Property?" you echoed, a little spark of defiance flaring through your embarrassment.
Eloise’s left eyelid drooped slightly, her old scar catching the dim light of the library, giving her a look of intense, quiet possession. "You signed the contract. Your safety is my charge. Your life belongs within these walls. Do not forget it, sweetheart"
The casual use of the flirtatious word—something she had clearly picked up from listening to your ridiculous shows, even if she didn't fully understand it—shattered the heavy tension for a second. But the raw, untamed intensity in her eyes kept you pinned to the cushions. She was a predator, and she was slowly, patiently building a cage around you.
And the worst part? You were starting to like the cage.
The true nature of your "contract of survival" became terrifyingly real during the sixth month of your employment.
It was a stormy night, the rain lashing against the high stained-glass windows of the manor. You were in the kitchen, preparing a rare steak for Eloise, she couldn't taste the meat, but she liked the texture and the residual blood, when the heavy glass of the back door suddenly shattered.
You screamed, dropping the knife as three men burst into the kitchen. They didn't look like vampires; they looked like the human loan sharks you had fled from months ago. The men who had threatened to break your jaw if you didn't pay up.
"Look what we found," the lead man sneered, pulling a heavy iron pipe from his coat. "The little runaway. Thought you could hide in this freaky-ass house?"
Panic seized your chest. Your breath hitched, your body freezing up entirely. You backed away until your spine hit the smart fridge, your knees trembling so violently you thought you might collapse.
"Hey! Get away from me!" you yelled, but your voice cracked, sounding small, pathetic, and thoroughly ruined by fear.
The man lunged forward, raising the pipe—
A sudden, deafening roar tore through the kitchen. It wasn't human. It sounded like a starving timber wolf.
Before the man could even register the sound, a blur of velvet and fury slammed into him. Eloise appeared out of nowhere, her movements so fast the air cracked with a sonic boom. She grabbed the man by the throat with one hand, lifting his entire two-hundred-pound frame effortlessly into the air, and slammed him through the solid wood of the kitchen island. Wow, they weren’t kidding about that vampire strength…
The structure splintered into kindling.
The other two men gasped, backing away, but Eloise was already moving. Her eyes were no longer bright red; they were a terrifying, glowing crimson, her fangs fully extended, dripping with saliva. The refined, Victorian countess act was completely gone, replaced by a raw, animalistic monster. She moved with a brutal, casual violence, dodging a wild swing from the second man, grabbing his arm, and snapping it with a sickening CRACK.
She threw him across the room like a sack of dirty laundry. The third man didn't even try to fight; he turned and bolted through the shattered door into the rainy night, screaming for his life.
Eloise stood in the center of the ruined kitchen, chest heaving, her velvet gown stained with plaster dust and human blood. She looked wild, untamed, completely terrifying.
You shrank back against the fridge, sliding down to the floor, hiding your face in your knees as you trembled. You were terrified of the men, but you were suddenly acutely aware that you were living with something infinitely more dangerous.
A heavy, wet boot clicked against the tile.
You tensed, holding your breath, waiting for the monster to turn on you.
Instead, a cold, firm hand wrapped gently around your forearm, pulling you up from the floor in one smooth, sweeping motion. Eloise pulled you close behind her, her arms wrapped tightly around your wrist as she anchored you to her. She was vibrating with adrenaline, her heart completely still, but her muscles coiled like springs.
She dragged you out of the kitchen and into the living room, throwing you down onto the sofa. Before you could speak, she dropped to her knees in front of you, her hands gripping your thighs so tightly it left immediate impressions through your jeans.
"Are you broken?" she demanded, her voice rough, feral, and stripped of all aristocrat fluff. "Did they touch you? Speak to me!"
"I-I'm fine," you stammered, your eyes wide as you looked at her. Her crimson eyes were slowly fading back to that sharp bright red, scanning your face with a terrifying intensity. "They didn't touch me. You... you killed them?"
"They are breathing. For now," Eloise hissed, her jaw clenching. She reached up, her cold fingers sweeping a strand of hair out of your face. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, a protective gesture that sent a sudden, confusing rush of heat straight to your cheeks. "They dared to enter my domain. They dared to threaten what is mine."
She leaned closer, her breath cold against your flushed skin. "You belong to this house. You belong to me. I signed the contract. If anyone is to devour you, it will be me, you naive little lamb."
Oh my god, why am I getting turned on?!
This was entirely the wrong time. You had just witnessed a supernatural assault, your kitchen was destroyed, and yet, looking into her intense, unyielding eyes, all you could feel was this suffocating, addictive sense of safety. She was a monster, yes. But she was your monster.
Eloise noticed your flushed face, her left eyelid drooping as a slow, dark smile finally spread across her lips. It wasn't her usual mean smirk. It was something deeper, hungrier, and entirely satisfied.
By month nine, the dynamic had completely unraveled into something easy, fluid, and dangerously cozy.
The jeering and mocking had mostly stopped, replaced by a comfortable, highly charged domesticity. You had become her anchor to the modern world. You taught her how to use a microwave (after she almost blew it up by putting a silver fork inside), you explained what a "podcast" was, and you patiently listened to her rants about how the older vampires in the coven were "pretentious, ancient snobs who don't appreciate proper velvet."
It was a quiet evening. Eloise was sitting on the rug by the fireplace, her massive frame stretched out casually, a glass of animal blood resting in her hand. She was wearing a loose, baggy black shirt that she had stolen from your laundry—claiming it was "adequate loungewear"— and the casual fit did absolutely nothing to hide her striking, statuesque proportions. She was tall, effortlessly graceful, her striking body still commanding presence filling out the fabric in a way that made her look completely otherworldly under the warm firelight.
You were sitting on the couch above her, supposed to be reading a book, but your gaze kept drifting down to her broad shoulders.
Seriously, how is she naturally built like that? She hasn't set foot in a gym since... Well you didn’t know when exactly she had turned but she was lucky regardless, how would a vampire maintain that?
"You are staring again," Eloise said, not turning her head.
"I am not," you lied instantly, snapping your book up.
"Liar," she murmured, a soft, subtle exhale passing through her nose—her version of a chuckle. She turned around, resting her chin on her hands, leaning against your knees. Those bright red eyes locked onto yours, trained on you with that quiet, unwavering intensity. "You always stare when you think I am occupied. It is quite endearing. Like a little bird watching a hawk."
"Get a grip, you creep," you muttered to yourself, though you knew she could hear it with her enhanced audio range.
"I am not the creep," Eloise pointed out, her thumb casually tracing the fabric of your jeans right above your knee. The touch was light, but the heat of your own body reacted to it instantly, your pulse stuttering. "You are the one who constantly imagines what it would be like to be held by me. Do you think I do not smell the shift in your blood whenever I get close?"
Your face erupted in a blush so violent you thought your veins might burst. "I do not!"
"Your heart is currently beating like a frantic machine," she said, her smile widening to show just a hint of fang. "It excited me at first. The thought of how easily you could be broken. You are so sheltered, so small. I wanted to drag you into my world, to tear down that sweet innocence."
She paused, her expression softening into something raw, possessive, and deeply intense. "But I have learned patience. I like the anticipation. I like watching you realization that you cannot leave me."
You swallowed thickly, unable to look away from her. The slow, intoxicating burn of her presence had completely ruined you for the normal world. You didn't want to leave. You were fully, totally caught in her web.
Exactly one year.
Three hundred and sixty-five days since you walked onto the porch with three dollars in your bank account. Tonight, the storm outside matched the one from six months ago, the wind howling violently against the stone walls of the Bathory estate.
Eloise had called you into her private study—the most heavily decorated, aggressively Victorian room in the entire house. The only light came from a dozen dripping candles, casting long, dancing shadows across the heavy oak bookshelves and the massive leather desk.
You stood in front of the desk, your hands tucked into your pockets to hide the slight trembling of your fingers. "You wanted to see me, Countess? It's... midnight. My one-year review?"
Eloise was standing by the window, her back to you. She was dressed in her finest black velvet gown, the lace collar framing her chiseled jawline. Slowly, she turned around. The playful, dim-witted confusion she usually displayed regarding the modern world was entirely absent. Her face was a mask of cold, absolute calculation.
"One year," Eloise murmured, walking around the desk with slow, unhurried steps. Her heavy boots clicked rhythmically against the stone floor. Click. Click. Click. Each sound felt like a countdown. "The duration of our initial contract. Your debts have been completely erased. The men who hunted you have disappeared. You are, by all legal definitions of your world, a free mortal."
She stopped right in front of you. Even without heels, she dwarfed you completely, her massive shadow swallowing you whole in the dim candlelight.
"So," you said, your voice barely a whisper, a strange, hollow ache suddenly opening up in your chest. Wait. Why am I panicking? This is what I wanted, right? "Am I... fired? Do I pack my bags and leave?"
Eloise didn't answer right away. She merely stared down at you, her bright red eyes scanning your face, tracking the frantic, erratic skipping of your pulse. A slow, unsettling smile curved her lips, her left eyelid drooping slightly as she observed your obvious distress.
"You speak of leaving so lightly," she drawled, her voice dropping into that deep, velvet register that made your knees turn to water. "Tell me, little lamb... do you truly wish to step out into the rain? To return to your noisy, fragile world, entirely away from my shadow?"
"I—I mean, the contract is up," you stammered, backing up a step.
Your heel hit the solid wood of the desk. Trapped.
Before you could even think of a redirection, Eloise closed the distance. She didn't just step forward; she moved like a strike of lightning. In a heartbeat, her large, steel-hard hand shot out, her fingers coiling firmly around your midsection and yanking you flush against her powerful, unyielding frame.
A sharp, embarrassed yelp left your throat as your chest slammed into hers. She didn't drop her hold. Instead, her other hand came up, her cold fingers wrapping securely around the back of your neck, anchoring you completely. You were caged between her body and the heavy desk, hyperaware of the raw, restrained strength radiating from her.
"The old contract is indeed finished," Eloise whispered, leaning down until her breath was a freezing, intoxicating gust against your flushed cheek. Her eyes flared with a sudden, dangerous crimson ring, and she peeled her lips back just enough to let the razor-sharp tips of her elongated canines graze the sensitive skin of your pulse point.
You froze, your mind completely short-circuiting. Oh my god. This is it. I'm dead.
She didn't bite. Instead, she just held her fangs there, a terrifying, heavy pressure against your throat, letting you feel exactly how easily she could devour you if she chose to. You were trembling, your heart hammering a frantic, desperate rhythm straight against her chest.
"But I have grown quite fond of my property," Eloise murmured against your skin, her grip around your waist tightening until it was impossible to move. She let out a low, rumbling purr that vibrated directly into your bones. "And I am not finished with you. Not by a long shot, darl'."
Slowly, she pulled back just enough to look into your blown-out, terrified eyes, her expression dripping with an intense, dark possessiveness. With a casual flick of her wrist, she slid a fresh, heavy piece of parchment across the desk behind you, the ink gleaming wetly in the candlelight.
"A new contract," Eloise purred, her bright red eyes locking onto yours with absolute authority. "With no expiration date. You are going to sign it. And if you refuse... well, let us see how long you can survive my patience while trapped in this room with me."
A/N: Lmk what u thinkk! thank you for the request!!! Likes and reblogs are appreciated !
u can call me the woker cuz i find i weird that 2k year old vampires can find people in their 20s attractive... so eloise is also quite young both in vampire and human terms ;3
By the third month, you had established a rhythm, which mostly consisted of you doing back-breaking labor while Eloise hovered over you like a beautiful, overbearing shadow.
You had learned a few things about her. First, she was a trans woman who took immense pride in her statuesque, powerful and beautiful build. She frequently mentioned how her new, immortal form finally matched the raw, commanding strength she was always meant to possess. Second, she was incredibly insecure about being a "newbie" in the local vampire coven, which explained why she refused to wear anything other than heavy silk, lace, and velvet, even when it was eighty degrees outside.
Currently, you were perched on top of a rolling library ladder, dusting the top shelves of her absurdly oversized collection of leather-bound books. It was exhausting. Your muscles ached, and a bead of sweat rolled lazily down your temple.
"You are missing a spot," a voice boomed from directly beneath you.
You jumped, nearly losing your footing. You looked down to see Eloise standing at the base of the ladder. She had her hands on her hips, her auburn-black hair pinned back, looking up at you with that perpetual look of quiet, predatory calculation.
"I didn't miss it, I'm getting to it," you huffed, wiping your brow. "You know, if you let me use a vacuum with an extension hose, this would take ten minutes."
"I have told you, I will not have the roaring mechanical beast in my sanctuary!" Eloise snarled, though there was no real heat in it. It was her default setting. "It agitates my senses. Dust it by hand, as is tradition."
"Tradition is giving me carpal tunnel," you grumbled under your breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, Countess."
You turned back to the shelf, reaching out to grab a heavy volume, but your foot slipped on the smooth wooden rung of the ladder. A sharp gasp left your throat as you fell backward, the world tilting violently as you braced for impact with the hard hardwood floor.
You didn't hit the ground.
Instead, you slammed into something incredibly solid, yet entirely forgiving. Two massive, steel-hard arms caught you effortlessly out of mid-air. Eloise didn't even stumble. She caught you like you weighed absolutely nothing, her powerful physique absorbing the impact without breaking a sweat.
Fic B is still in the works and barelyyyy editted so it will have to wait </3
best way to get cute pink, plump LOOKING. LOOKING KEYWORD LOOKING lips is by mixing Vaseline and red lip plumper and using it as a lip balm, i have a very bad habit of biting my lips and making thems scab when my lips are dry so this is also a lifesaver, two months no biting nor picking at my lips :3
THANK YOUUUUU MOST OF EM WERE OLDDD ONES I ALREADY WROTE LOL ill work onnnnn evan's pinterest board now, beta read eloise fic then HOPEFUYLYLYLYL post it today :3
update on selene's pinterest board: going shit. why tf would a female werewolf be skinny and short while male werewolves are big and buff... just say yall hate buff women SMH
currently making my oc's pinterest boards teehee! most were already finished from ages ago, just added selene, eloise, and yuna in!! and also fixed up roman and siolis' boards... yikes they were shit
