Stanford!Art Donaldson x StanfordCheerleader!Mixed + Chubby Reader
Summary: In which Art gets caught doing 'Tennis' and Reader would love to learn.
Warnings: Sexual Content, SMUT, Switch!Art, Switch!Reader, Fluffy moments, Art is boyfriend material
Note: The council has spoken here, and I bring to you. Art Donaldson being hot.
You and Art were to the side of the tennis court, conversating in your short break before both of your extracurriculars started.
"Do you like my new nails" You smiled at him, showing your hands to him as he took ahold of them.
He smiled, pressing a kiss to each of your wrists. "They're definitely long, but whatever you like love"
He let go of your hands, sighing as his hands slid up the back of your thighs and he toyed with the back of your skirt.
"You're so hot.. It drives me insane" He groans.
"I know it drives you insane.. Why do you think I always conviently turn up to all your warm up sessions in my uniform" You giggled.
You were a Stanford Cheerleader. You never thought you would be interested in the sport but when you saw the cute outfits you knew you had to do it.
At first you were hesistant. There wasn't many people that looked like you but then you realised why should you limit yourself.
But when you met Art it drove him insane. The way your ass would sit just slightly out from below your skirt. Your plush thighs squeezed into the get up. He was obsessed.
You had met Art through Tashi, a family friend and your go to gal pal. She even told you about the duo, initially when she came back from the US Open. Blurting about how he's your type to a T. And well this is how you got here.
"I feel like you do it on purpose to throw me off my game" He raised his eyebrow as his tongue darts out across his chapped lips.
"Art, not everything is about you" You chuckled, your hands sliding up the back of his thighs as your thumbs slipped under his shorts, caressing the skin.
He smiled down at you as his hands reached up to each side of your face. Caressing your cheeks softly as you peered up at him.
"I like when everything's about me though" He smirked, pecking your lips softly.
"We know" You both pulled apart as you looked at Tashi, smiling at the two of you.
"Don't stop, it was getting entertaining" Patrick piped up behind Tashi.
"Fuck off" Art groaned.
You smiled at the three of them. "I have practice anyway, so I'll see you later?" You peered up at Art.
He nodded softly as he pulled your arm, you hit his chest softly as his hand caressed your cheek once more as he pulled you into a deep kiss.
You smiled, kissing him back softly. His lips were so soft you could do it all day.
You heard someone clear their throat as you both pulled away and turned to Art's hitting partner.
"You're late" He quipped.
Art rolled his eyes, pecking your lips once more as he tapped your ass lightly before walking into the court. Tashi and Patrick passed you, giving you a light smile and nod as they followed Art.
After your practice you made your way towards Art's dorm. You went to knock on the door you knew he'd be in.
As your hand reached the door you paused, hovering above the painted wood as you pressed your ear to the door, hearing soft moans from inside.
Your face contorted as you were confused. You were rational, the first thing you did was grab that damn door handle and shove it open. If someone was with YOUR man, they'd feel your rage.
Instead you stood at the door, face to face with an extremely flushed and sweaty Art. His shirt clutched between his teeth. His hair pushed back and arm over his eyes as his fist was closed over his cock as his fisted his fist.
You snapped out of the trance quickly shutting the door behind you as Art's arm flew off his eyes as he sat up and looked at you like a deer caught in headlights.
"Fuck- Y/N" He scrambled, pulling his duvet up over himself as he stared at you. His cheeks gaining slightly more and more pinkish as you stalked closer to him. "Its not what it looks like- Its.. uh.. tennis" He stuttered as he grabbed his racket off the floor.
"Nothing I haven't seen before" You cooed, pulling at the duvet as you sat beside him. "Tennis?" You laughed. Your hand sliding up his bare thigh softly, your acrylics lightly scraping against his skin. "Teach me how to play".
His gulp was audible. You peered up at him as a smirk tugged on your lips as you shimmied closer to him, your hand dangerously close to his dick, which was red and leaking.
"This is so embarassing.." He gritted his teeth as he stared at you. "I didn't want you to see me like this-" He covered his face.
You chuckled softly, taking ahold of the base of his shaft as you softly caressed the skin, as you pulled his hands from his face.
"I think you look so cute when your embarrassed" You smiled at him, licking your lips glossy as he stared at you.
It only took a moment before his lips crashed onto yours as you lifted your free hand to his neck, pulling him closer as you began to work on slowly jerking him off. Of course you were going to let him finish.
The way his tongue glided over yours, his kisses were so needy you craved for more. His soft groans and light whines as his hips bucked up into your hand. The way his hands gripped onto your hips as he pratically fucked your mouth with his tongue. God he was such a good fucking kisser.
You pulled away, licking your lips as you panted slightly, your hand still keeping a good pace on his dick as he leaned his head back and groaned softly. A light 'fuck' leaving his lips. You watched as his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. The way sweat dripped down his face to his neck, the way his hair began to stick upon his skin. Art Donaldson was a piece of fucking art.
You stopped abruptly pulling away as you stood up. Art felt your presence shift and shot his head back up as he looked at you with such needy eyes. The way his eyes yearned for more. Yearned for your touch. Yearned for you.
"Don't go.." He whispered as his glossy, swallowed plump lips shimmered against the shitty lighting of his dorm.
"I'm not going anywhere babe" You smiled, sliding your hand along his dick once more as you smirked at him. Making sure your acrylics lightly tickled the muscle as you pulled away. "Just making this easier for both of us" You pulled off your safety shorts from below your cheer uniform, along with your panties as you climbed ontop of him.
One thing about Art he loved you in skirts. Even more so if it was your cheer uniform.
You caged him in below you, legs either side of his as you, slid your hands up his lower body, sliding it up under his shirt as you sighed sensually in his ear. "Take it off.."
Art was quick with it, yanking off his shirt and throwing it across the room as you smiled, your acrylics dancing across his chest as you dipped down and licked all the way up his chiseled abs. You peered up, smirking as you locked eyes with him, sucking your bottom lip in as you bit onto it.
You leaned in, kissing across his collarbone, lightly sucking the skin as you traveled up his neck. Soft sighs leaving his mouth as your hand slid up his neck to wrap around it, softly gripping it as you turned his head and sucked on his earlobe.
"Take my top off Art..." You sighed softly, letting go of him as you sat up and watched him.
You watched as he sat up against the back of the bed. The both of you moving for a brief moment before he latched onto the bottom of your cheer top, pulling it off in one swoop. Your breasts falling out infront of him as he dropped the top beside the bed.
"Good boy" You smiled, leaning forward and pecking his lips. You softly caressed his cheek as you smiled at him.
"Do you want me to fuck you Art. Or do you want to fuck me?" You held his jaw as you stared at him, his eyes focusing on you but from time to time would glance down at your bare breasts. You couldn't blame him.
"I want you.." He grit his teeth.
You smiled, pecking his lips, your heart in your throat as you tried to steady your breaths. You hovered over him, as you slowly sunk down onto him. A sharp gasp leaving your lips as you felt him fully in.
You began to rock back and forth against him, humming as your hands pressed down against his chest as you pratically got yourself off on his dick. The way he'd watch you like you were a god given creature. He worshiped you.
You bit your lip, sighing softly as you bucked your hips against him, panting as your hands slid up to his shoulders as you held them tightly, bouncing your ass against him.
"Mhmm yeah- Fuck.. such a good boy" You moaned softly, grinding down hard against him. You wanted to feel ALL of him.
"Mhmm-" He whined as his hands slid up over your breasts, squeezing them as you picked up the pace riding his fast as you bounced quicker up and down against him.
Strings of 'yes' and 'fuck's left your lips repeatedly as you squeezed his shoulders. Your head hanging low as you moaned.
He noticed your pace slow down as you grew tired. He supported you up as he shimmed slightly. "Baby I got it.. Let me take it from here"
You nodded, biting your lip as you pouted at him, moans still leaving your mouth, as you leaned down and layed against him, sucking on his neck.
"I'll be gentle-"
"Fuck no. Art just fuck me" You hissed cutting him off as you bit down on his neck.
Effortlessly he picked you up, a soft whine leaving your lips as he layed you back against his chest as he situated himself, before pushing back into you. "Don't be so vulgar, where are your fucking manners" His lips against your neck as he let out a laugh, softly pecking the skin, as his legs spread below you as he started to piston up into you.
"FUCK-" You yelped, arching your back against him. His arm tightly across your stomach holding you in position. Your hands flying onto your breasts as you squeezed them tightly.
His pace became short but rough. The way his hips would recoil into yours harshly, his skin slapping against yours as you let out a harsh shriek.
You bit you lip, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he fucked you. Art was a soft soul, a good boyfriend. But sometimes he was an animal. A filthy fucking animal.
He threw you forward into all fours as you scrambled to hold yourself up. Still pushed inside of you as he gripped your hips, forcing you to recoil against him. His thrusts growing rougher with each other.
You reached forward, listing the duvet as continous strings of moans and pleas left your lips.
"A-Art.. fuck I'm cumming-" You gasped,your ass slapping against his abdomen.
Art pulled your arm up, as you balanced on your knees as his hands snaked around you to case you in as he thrusted up into you. Your eyes rolling back as you gasped. The way his tip perfectly curved into your g-spot had you speechless everytime.
"Good girl.. Come on.. let's cum together" He grit his teeth, his hand reaching to rub your clit as you gasped out. The pleasure was too much and you loved it. You went limp in his arms as your body twitched. He held you up and closr, his biceps tensed as he held you tight thrusting a few more times up into before a guttural moan leaves his lips.
His grip on your releases as you fall forward onto the bed as your body twitches as you cum harshly against his cock.
Quickly, Art pulls out, jerking himself off as he came all over the sheets beside you. He was panting loudly before he leaned back crashing against the pillows behind him.
"Fuck-" He pants, his hand sliding over his face as he stares at you.
You have since turned around, snuggling against him as you chuckle. "I fucking love tennis" You smirked.
A/N: So, I honestly didn’t have anything else planned for this series, and sadly, this will be the final chapter. I hope you’ve enjoyed this – I certainly had fun exploring this dynamic and delving more into a softer Adrian. This will finally bring the long awaited slow burn to the forefront, so I hope it is what you imagined. Enjoy!
Summary: All in the name of love.
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Chapter 9 [Final]
“Easy does it.”
Wincing, the warmth of the water collides with the open wound on your arm, deep are its cuts that have marred your skin. They don’t look appealing, and you grimace at how they will scar. If you could only practice better with healing, you could get the scars to fade in the future, but they would never be fully gone, a reminder of your foolishness that day.
Adrian is silent as he works beside you, wrapping fresh gauze after he had to cauterise the bleeding on the side of the road. It left you slumped and light-headed for the remainder of the journey back to the castle, in and out of a state of lucidness, you found yourself by the fire, Adrian tending to you carefully.
You don’t mean the way to push Adrian’s fretting hands off of you, but the need for sleep has your mind exhausted, idly staring into the flames as you get distracted by what Adrian is saying to you.
“If you die on me, I will not forgive you, you know?”
You laugh breathlessly, catching him staring over at you from the corner of your eyes. “I’m sure I would need more than a scratch to put me down.”
“That is true,” he murmurs, sitting back in the space beside you. “But you’re still the bravest witch I know.”
“Ha ha.” you wince, sitting up as you try to get comfortable. If you’re lucky, you may find sleep with ease, whether that be looking at the fireplace or found back in your room alone and cold. “The dumbest witch you mean?”
Adrian leans closer in, subtle but you notice it without saying anything. You have grown comfortable with him beside you, and any contact whether it be discreet or not is enough for you to crave more. It seems the Dhampir is stuck in his thoughts whilst you observe him.
Placing a hand on his arm, you bring him out his thoughts, “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Nothing,” you cannot help but notice how his cheeks rouge lightly, looking away bashfully, “I just… there was something that drifted into my thoughts.”
“Which was?”
“Earlier today, when you were looking at the jewels, the jeweller commented about well… us.”
You stiffen, looking at him in horror and dread. “Oh, I’m sorry if that made you uneasy. I didn’t think it-”
“I didn’t feel uneasy by it however,” he managed to answer, and you hung on the edge of your seat to hear its words, “rather, it was… endearing.”
Oh.
“You... I do not know what to say, Adrian.” You laugh nervously, bubbling inside your stomach. “What does this all mean?”
Adrian shuffles closer in until his shoulder bristles against yours, “I suppose I should be downright honest with you at this moment,” his laughter is airy, with a hint of bravery he has plucked. “I am deeply afraid I will lose you one day, Y/N.”
You with ease hold his hand, reassuringly. “I’m not going anywhere, Adrian- it was just a scratch-”
“I’m not talking about the scratch, what does the future imply for me and… if you’ll be there beside me.”
Your breath gets caught in your throat, you feel clammy, and every hair on your body rises until you cannot think straight. You’re certain your heart is in your mouth and you’re struggling to breathe, but Adrian continues, pouring his words out to you.
“It’s amusing how this has consumed me that I cannot articulate my words correctly.” He stumbles. “It is feverous the way you enter my dreams, my waking thoughts and worries. My days are never satiated until you’re by my side. You consume me, body and soul, and still, it is not enough.”
He is still breathtaking, even when he’s flustered, but you listen, only because you don’t know what to say.
“I thought it merely impossible for two people from different backgrounds to fall in love. My mother and father did and still, their love sprouted and flourished. A human and a vampire, it was a myth, but their love showed, despite how fleeting it was.” He chuckles hesitantly. “I never thought I could understand what they shared until I met you.”
“What are you saying, Adrian?”
“Oh, God, how do I say this without making a fool out of myself,” he’s so bashful, a blushing schoolboy who has to overcome this announcement, but he doesn’t stray from it, rather prides himself in the confession. He holds your hand close over his chest, above the stammer of his pulse. “My heart-- it yearns for you.”
You watch in the seconds that pass when you reciprocate his feelings that his entire demeanour changes. The tenseness of his body immediately relaxes, and relief surfaces within his eyes, sweet and pure. There is such softness to him that has surfaced that he seems like a completely different person. Perhaps he had been so nervous that you would reject him, that this had taken off guard.
Adrian doesn’t shy away from you, grabbing your face in his warm hands. You lean further into his touch, excited and giddy. His honey-golden eyes glow against the embers of the fireplace; bright with passion.
You don’t know who leans in first, but you gasp as Adrian’s lips brush against yours experimentally, eyes flickering up to your eyes to make sure you feel comfortable against him. Noses brushing, you relish in his scent, grazing your bottom lip against his. The gasp that leaves him is similar to a whimper, and you delve further against his, never truly having your lips connect with him until the teasing becomes all too much.
Two flames, flickering now as one.
His lips are warm and inviting, intense as your bodies collide with one another, hands seeking to hold as much of each other as possible. It takes some getting used to before you find confidence, teeth clanking awkwardly against his fangs, you adapt to kissing him quickly and find that his kisses are addictive, soft, and tentative.
Adrian lets out a garbled moan, his hands moving to your scalp, his fingers finding your scalp as he softly tugs your head back, disconnecting his lips from yours and finding the base of your neck.
You gasp, feeling like prey. Excitement bubbles up in your exposed throat, thinking he will finally sink his fangs into your flesh, however, hot wet kisses press from your pulse point, up along your jawline.
“Adrian.” You softly gasp, your hands finding his scalp as the Dhampir continues his actions.
Adrian pulls back to marvel at you and you’re both a sight to behold: hair dishevelled, skin flush. Adrian’s golden eyes are blown wide and dilated, his breath ragged.
“You’re addictive,” his breath is laboured, and he pulls you back against him. He cradles the side of your face with his hand, stroking your cheekbone, “my little witch.”
You don’t speak when your actions are used to show how much you adore him. You pour your love into him, and all worries and qualms, fears of the darkness and what lurks outside the castle walls disappear. You’re safe in his arms and you’re finally happy.
You don’t speak when your actions are used to show how much you adore him. You pour your love into him, and all worries and qualms, fears of the darkness and what lurks outside the castle walls disappear. You’re safe in his arms and you’re finally happy.
“Don’t leave me,” he murmurs against the fullness of your lips, holding you to him, afraid you will turn to ash in his hold. “Don’t leave me, please.”
“Never.” Are your words, and you promise to hold onto them, for as long as you carry breath and Adrian is there to breathe it back into you.
Imagine Billy Hargrove with a Mixed Race/Biracial S/O
Warnings: Racism, swearing, homophobia, homophobic slurs, mild violence, you throw hands a lot, angst.
Masterlist
You stay blocking the window sill for a bit cuz you enjoy seeing him squirm.
Honestly, he is bad at this whole climbing thing and he's struggling to not fall on his ass.
You finally let him in after he almost falls.
You're laughing your ass off while he's climbing through your window and simultaneously having a heart attack.
"It would have been less of a hassle if you used the door."
"I didn't think your parents would be happy if someome like me came knocking on their door asking for you."
You raise a brow at this, someone like him?
After a minute it occurs to you.
"Oh you mean a violent, racist, douchbag, with a reputation that surpasses the devil?"
He frowns.
Contrary to popular belief, Billy Hargrove is very self aware, and very self conscious about himself, his actions, and his self worth.
He doesn't like being an asshole but it's all he knows.
He low-key is afraid of growing up to be like his father.
Even though he has that nagging voice in the back of his mind that's telling him he's already as bad as his dad, if not worse.
He hides it all under a mask of confidence, booze, and cigarettes.
It still doesn't make his actions okay.
You snap him out of his thoughts.
"What?"
"I said my parents are out of town."
Now that he's in your room you noticed that Billy looked shaken up.
Billy Fucking Hargove, for once didn't have a scratch on him, but he looked like hell.
You question him.
It takes a while but he finally answers.
His dad got pissed at him because Max wasn't home, and he came hoping she would be here so he could drag her home.
You convince him to let you come along, because he is pissed and you know how he can get.
He caves and lets you tag along.
The next stop was Lucas' House.
Neither Max nore her son were there, but she said the kids all loved to go to Mike's house to play games.
Next stop is the Wheelers residence.
You dont know what's being said between Mrs. Wheeler and Billy, but knowing Billy and being able to read his body language- well. It takes everything in you to refrain from rolling your eyes and honking his horn (though you fail at not rolling your eyes).
I mean come on you guys are looking for Max, this is not the time to be flirting.
Fuck he went in.
You audibly groan and contemplate jacking his car to go look for his sister yourself, unfortunately he has the keys and you dont know how to hotwire a car.
Finally, he's out.
You forgive him because he comes out with a cookie in his mouth and has another one in his hand, which he gives to you.
"Hell, yes!!"
What?
Who the hell turns down food? And cookies at that. Home made cookies. And they're fresh.
Last stop was the the Byers house.
Fuck, Steve is there.
"Stay in the car."
"What? No!" Like hell you were going to let him beat up your friend.
"Stay in the fucking car!"
Steve seems both angry and hurt when he notices that you're in Billy's car.
You can't really hear what's being said, it's all muffled.
You panic a bit when Billy shoved Steve and you worry they'll start fighting.
"Shit!"
You burst out the car when you see Billy storming for the door, but stop to help Steve.
"Why the hell are you driving around with him?"
"He came to my place first, looking for Max and I offered to help him. What'd you say to piss him off?"
Steve gets mad, thinking your taking his side, and for the second time that night you find yourself rolling your eyes. "Why did you tell him you didn't know her? I tutor Max and her friends, and you babysit her friends, and you and I hang out, of course you would know her?"
You both stop arguing when you here a loud crash from inside the house.
"Damn it!" "Shit!"
You both walk in just in time to hear Billy threaten Lucas.
Fucking excuse you, Billy???
Steve decks him across the face, Billy taunts him, and this time an actual fight breaks out.
You try your best to get them both to stop fighting, but neither of them will listen to you, the voice of reason.
When Billy has Steve pinned to the floor and keeps punching him over and over again you finally get physical.
You tackle Billy off him while he's oblivious to his surroundings and use your hands and knees to pin his arms to the ground.
"What the fuck is your problem, Billy?!"
You've never seen him look at you so angrily, probably because he feels a bit betrayed.
He somehow manages to roll you both over so now your stuck underneath him.
You flinch when he draws his fist back like he's going to hit you, but the next thing you know- there's a syringe sticking out the side of his neck.
"Holy shit!"
He gets up to go after Max, but promptly falls.
Your a bit shocked by Max's outburst.
Now her, you have never seen that angry before.
When they leave, you stay behind to look after Billy and move him to couch
He isn't happy when he wakes up.
He's actually really fucking pissed.
But he's still a little groggy from sleep and the drug (mostly the drug) so it's funny.
Help this child, he thought he was getting off the couch normally, but turns out he just rolled off and onto the floor face first.
Your freaking out and laughing all at once.
Slurred, "What the fuck's so funny?!?"
He needs aspirin and water like a hangover.
He falls asleep again after you get him back onto the couch, and you fall asleep on the floor propped up against the couch in a sitting position.
You don't wake up till the kids get back (Max wakes you up).
The both of you manage to get Billy to his car. He still asleep like a log.
You go to your place, and they spend the night - Max was worried their dad would be even more angry if they woke him up, and even more so if he caught you helping Billy and Max into the house.
The next morning was very #Domestic.
With You waking up to find Max already up and looking through your cabinets for food.
Suprise, you end up making breakfast for everyone!
Max wanted chocolate chip pancakes, so chocolate chip pancakes she shall get.
No suprise, Billy wakes up while you both are making the sausages and bacon.
Full plate of eggs, bacon and sausage, and pancakes for everyone! Yay! 😀
Honestly the best morning the two of them have had for a while, but you won't catch either of them saying that outloud.
Max leaves to hang out with the others.
Billy still seems mad about the previous night.
"What, are you going to pout all morning? All day?"
"I dont pout."
"Oh I'm sorry, what would you prefer to call it- sulking? Brooding? Plotting my death?"
He tries to hide a snicker and lightly shoves you.
Going back to school the following Monday felt weird after everything that happened over the weekend.
You tried asking Steve what was up with all the drawings in Will's house, but he wouldn't budge.
Of course you tried asking Nancy and Jonathan too, but they acted like they didn't know anything.
The next few weeks were full of practice tests and prep assignments for finals.
You saw Billy less and less because you were hitting the books.
Sure he knew you were probably in the library, but after that weekend he wasn't sure how to go about interacting with you, or if he should do so anymore at all.
He kinda feels like you picked Steve over him.
He pops buy on Wednesday and almost gives you a heart attack. He's not surprised that you've been working yourself ragged, and your not surprised he hasn't even touched a text book (let's be honest, Billy doesn't strike me at the type of person to take notes in class, just pull out a pencil and paper to look like he's interested and go about his day).
Your freaking out, because finals but he doesn't flinch because you're like the smartest person he knows.
"Oh c'mon," he's managed to take your precious notes away, "You'll be fine, you're only stressing yourself out."
"Billy, I need those!"
"No you don't," He starts acting like he's reading the notes outloud, but he's getting the facts and formulas all wrong.
You correct him several times, and have actually started to chase him around the library.
Finally he closes the book after your sure you must have chased him around at least twice, "See, I told you. You don't need to study, you know this shit."
You both got kicked out of the library, again.
Billy is banned, but the librarian gives you one last chance...starting tomorrow.
You sigh in defeat, "Alright you proved your point, now give me my notebook back."
You reach for it.
"Nah," He raises it above his head so you can't reach it. Asshole.
Tommy and Carol show up and they think he's picking on you.
Neither of you sees them.
Tommy manages to snag the notebook, gives you an obnoxious laugh when you reach for it, and tosses it to Carol
"Give it back, shit face," Your mood went from playful to pissed in point zero seconds.
"What are you going to do about it, Heinz?"
Lord help you, you're about to throw hands again.
Billy snatches the book back and hands it to you, before looking at Tommy and Carol with a very stern expression.
"You idiots got anything better to do, huh?" He takes a few steps towards Tommy and for every step he takes, Tommy backs away.
Carol is distracted, which allows you to snatch your notebook back. She reaches for it again but you slap her hand away.
The message was very clear for them, so they take their leave and retreat back to wherever they came from.
Billy has lunch with you and manages to get you to skip the rest of school with him.
You don't want to miss during dead week, but the whole fiasco during your study period in the Library got you thinking- you need a break.
You also don't want the absent strike.
"You're such a goodie-two-shoes."
Peer pressure sucks.
You convince him to give you 30 minutes after the late bell rings to show up.
You go to class, set up your desk, the late bell rings, teacher calls role and marks you present. 7 minutes have passed.
You feign being ill.
It really wasn't hard. You just acted more tired than normal, threw in a couple "I have to stop what I'm doing because I have a headache," gestures. You even put your head down for a minute. You sit in the front so your body language is easy to pick up on and the teacher allows you to go to the nurses office when you ask. 12 minutes have passed.
When you get to the nurses office you throw the pass on the desk and storm into the private bathroom - closing the door behind you, before forcing yourself to dry heave. 27 minutes have passed.
You convince the nurse that it must be something you ate that's making you sick.
She gives you a pass and let's your teachers know you're sick and have gone home.
You meet Billy outside the school 30 minutes on the dot, he's surprised you actually came, and even more surprised that you lied well enough to get the teachers to excuse you for the rest of the day.
Of course you're upset when you see Tommy and Carol in the back seat, but you just roll your eyes and brush it off before climbing in shot gun.
Tommy and Carol are mocking you before you even get in.
"We didn't know the, mutt was coming along."
"How nice of you to bring something to entertain us, Billy."
Your looking at Billy through the corner of your eyes as he starts the car.
He waves you off, "Dont mind them."
You have no idea where you're going, or how long it will take so you pull out a book to read.
Before you can even open it, Carol snatches it from you, "What's the Nerd reading?!"
You roll your eyes again.
Tommy snatches it from the red head, "Stephan King. Christine."
"What's it?" Carol pipes up again, "Sappy romance novel?!"
"Wow, you both are actually uncultured, " you snatch the book away from Tommmy, "I'm impressed," and keep it out of his reach by out stretching your arm towards the dash, "Did it take all three of your brain cells to read that?"
Tommy tries to get his hands on you now, but you smack them away.
"Alright, alright!"
The three of you look surprised at Billy, "If you two don't quit your shit," he looks to the rearview mirror, "I'm kicking you out."
The rest of your ride was uneventful.
You arrive at Tommy's house.
His parents are also out of town.
But he lives in a large house with a pool and bar.
They're having an end of the year party and whoops you got dragged along.
You hadn't planned to be doing this with your time so you resort to studying more, much to Billy's behest, and Tommy and Carol's attempts to distract you.
You sit outside on a lawn chair next to the pool while they get everything prepped for the night.
Not much happens till it starts turning dark out, Billy calls you for help with something and when you leave you don't notice Carol and Tommy going for your stuff.
You can imagine your suprise when you find you stuff had been emptied into the pool.
Notebooks, text books, pencils, pens, erasers, even the book you were trying to read on the way.
You look up when you hear Carol laughing as she rounds the pool in your direction, and you see Tommy throw your bag in the pool.
"Are you fucking serious? What are you twelve?!"
Before you can react, Carol shoves you into the pool.
"And that's how you get a book worm to swim!"
You somehow manage to keep your cool, gathering your stuff and putting them on the edge of the pool away from Tommy and Carol. Though you didn't know why you bother, you can tell the ink is smeared and the pencil is faded now, only thing possibly salvageable was your pencils and your reading book, but even that was debatable.
You climb out and sit at the edge.
You feel physically uncomfortable
Your clothing is sticking to you.
And it's basically summer already so the air is hot and a little damp. You look up to see Billy storming out of the house.
"What the hell is going on?!"
"Relax, Billy, we were all just having a little fun, right?" Tommy looks at you like you're afraid of him so you're going to agree with him.
Yeah, no.
"Fuck off," you chuck your biggest text book at him.
None of them knew how well a text book could fly till it hits Tommy in the gut.
Go you! Bonus points for nailing him with the corner.
Your trying to wring the bottom of your clothes out when Tommy comes up from behind you and tries to grab you by the back of your head.
"Hey!" Billy is quickly making his way over to the both of you.
Carol tries to stop him, but she is poetically shoved to the side and subsequently falls into the pool.
You manage to elbow Tommy in the balls but the pain only makes him hold on harder.
"You little-"
He doesn't get to finish because he's promptly punched in the side of the face. You quickly back away from the edge incase Carol gets anymore funny ideas.
Billy helps you up and ushers you into the house.
"Sorry..." He sounds awkward, "About them."
You look at him with a deadpan expression, "Billy Hargrove, apologizing," you sigh with attitude, "pinch me. I must be dreaming."
He grits his jaw, "Don't you start being a smart ass with me- it's them who keep giving you crap!" He started raising his voice.
"Yeah, yet you still keep them around," you make your way over to the sink to keep wringing out your shirt and shoulder check him on the way, "Honestly, I don't even know why you keep them around- at least you have your reasons for being an asshole." You take off your shirt -much to Billy's suprise- so you can properly get rid of the water. Let's face it, a soaked shirt sticking to you like a second skin doesn't leave much to the imagination anyways, "Reasons," you turn to look at him for emphasis, "Not excuses," you turn back to the sink, "but understandable reasons nonetheless." You lay your shirt out flat on the kitchen's large counter to air dry (it's too dark and humid outside for it to dry any better outside anyways), "But they're just assholes because....because...." You sputter and shake your head, "I don't know, probably because they know they won't ever amount to anything better in their lives, so they figure they might as well tear down as many people as they can on their way to fucking nowhere."
You turn and look at him with an aggravated huff and cross your arms. Unfortunately Carol and Tommy walk in at that moment.
"You trashy mutt!"
"Stupid whore!"
"You really think, Billy's that desprit?!"
For a second you were confused. Then you remembered you didn't have a shirt on.
You roll your eyes again before throwing your still wet shirt back on.
"And what the hell Billy?! You really gonna' side with this half-breed?!"
Fuck this.
Fuck Carol.
Fuck Tommy.
And you know what? If this doesn't change, fuck Billy too. You dont need or deserve this.
You storm out the back door, gathering your things and shoving them in your dripping bag before walking around the side towards the front. Billy quickly runs out the front door to meet you outside.
"I'll take you home."
"No."
Billy calls your name and he almost sounds tired.
His tone is what makes you pause and turn around.
"Please."
You raise a brow and swallow your pride as well as your snarky comments, "Fine."
The party commences and goes on without the both of you.
Billy isn't quite sure what he enjoys more, being out and partying or enjoying a relaxing evening indoors, heavens knows he can't relax at home.
Max surprises the both of you by stopping by to visit.
The three of you hang out in your living room flipping through channels and eating popcorn.
Billy eats the least pop corn out off the three of you and opted to have some carrots and grapes less than half way through the first movie.
Billy is totally a health buff.
"Are Carol and Tommy really that bad?" Max mistakenly asked about your day.
"They have absolutely no redeeming qualities."
Max doesn't hide how she shoots a glance at her brother, 'And that fool does?' Is basically what her expression asked.
Billy glares at her from the couch opposite to hers and bites a carrot like it's her head.
You're covering your laughter with your hand.
From now on all my Imagines will be tagged by their titles, series, and parts! Hopefully this will make it easier to find a specific imagine if your looking for it. For example, anything relating to this series is tagged with "impossible", the series itself is tagged as "impossible series" and each individual part is tagged as "impossible pt.[1/2/3/etc.]"
Another example: part one is tagged as "impossible pt.1"
NYC; the city that never sleeps. The city of dreams- and the city that Y/N, a librarian in her late twenties, has called home for the last decade or so.
She’s never been one to fall victim to the dazzling lights; but after stumbling into The Smoking Gun, the hottest tattoo shop in Brooklyn, behind her silver haired best friend and roommate(life mate) Pietro Maximoff,
She’s pretty sure her eyes will never readjust.
Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, co-owners of The Smoking Gun, who she’s pretty sure might be Greek Gods in hiding, come into her life. Comet streak bright and supernova illuminating.
But with all that light, there unearths a question: can three people really make it work? Or is that old saying ‘threes a crowd’ ring true?
Only one way for them to find out- messily, passionately, permanently.
A Steve Rogers x Plus Sized Reader x Bucky Barnes story.
Chapters:
One/Coming soon
Will be 13 parts long.
Taglist is currently open! Please ask to be tagged if your not on my permanent TL.
A/N: I feel like an ass for posting this one, surely I am cockblocking, but this slow-burning is here for a reason! Enjoy regardless! Mentions of anatomy and some language, Y/N gets drunk and nearly blurts all.
Summary: To be loved is to be changed.
PREVIOUS | NEXT
Follow the story on A03!
Chapter 7
In the day, Adrian was as glorious as the sun. At night, as beautiful and haunting as the moon and its glow.
In the month you had been in the castle, you had turned the once secluded castle into a living, existing place, for you and Adrian to simply ignore the rest of the world in. It had grown not to resemble a tattered and destroyed ruin, but instead, a place Adrian could call home once again.
Adrian himself had flourished in his skin once more: where you found him to take up hobbies when you were not with him. Before was once a man, lonely beyond an age before the age of twenty, losing his parents and closest allies, now, a man you could look upon with admiration and pride. He had grown out from his enclosed shell, opening his heart to a stranger, trusting you with his life unlike those who betrayed him.
It hurt more to know that this was your final day.
You feared for Adrian’s wellbeing, whether he would grow reclused after you left him, or would he rather thrive with your farewell?
You had grown recluse yourself from the Dhampir, finding closure in the fact that you would never look upon the face of Adrian ever again. Where could you go apart from as far out from Wallachia? Nowhere was safe for a girl like me. You told yourself when you wished you could explain to Adrian—though the words would always freeze on your tongue any time you tried bringing it up.
It seemed that Adrian had almost forgotten about the promise too, and you couldn’t help but feel guilt when he spoke of promises he wanted to do for you.
“I’ll show you one day the town nearby,” he said one night, curled up by the fire as he stared into its flames. “I know you’d like it. We could buy anything you’d like: spices, dresses, jewellery.”
He spoke of a future not just with him alone, but with you co-existing beside him, and it thrilled and destroyed you to know that this promise would crumple like sand.
The day came for you to leave, silently waking with dried tears still stinging your red eyes. You had spent all that night crying before you fell to sleep, dreaming of being with Adrian, laughter shared and memories to be made. You had even kissed him, your heart fluttering as he muttered words softly in your words that gave away he did not want you to go.
'Always and forever.' His words were soft and dying in the air when you faced the morning, and your lips could still feel his against yours, a dying dream never to be lived.
You tip-toed around to not wake Adrian, gathering anything you could and folding neatly the dresses you had been given to him. They were too lovely to be ruined and deserved to be in a place that could keep its beauty.
The only things you carried on you were the same dress you came to the castle in, rags that had been sitting in the corner of the room, waiting for the day you would have to wear them. The air grew heavy with a feeling of forlorn as you walked to find the kitchen, setting yourself by the counter and waiting for the person you dreaded to upset.
It was not long until you heard familiar footsteps drawing closer, familiar honey-blond locks coming into view as the man appeared. It snapped your heart in two to see the softness in his golden eyes as if you were better than the sun itself and you were his star. That all fell apart when his smile dropped, the uncertainty washing over his face when he saw the glumness on your face.
“Has something happened?” He did not waste two seconds stepping closer towards you, giving a small gap between the two but enough that you could be up close to him. In the four weeks, it had taken some time for Adrian to grow used to touch once again, always coiling away from your closeness, before he had taken the time to build trust and reciprocate first. "Y/N?"
He was quick to reach out to you first, extending for your arm as he pulled it towards him. He was warm to the touch, and you dared not want to look upon his concerned gaze without knowing you would blubber into a mess once again.
“You remember the promise, correct?” You lamented, watching for a moment as he took in your words carefully. It was as if everything poured through just from the question, and you could just about read every emotion visible in his eyes; melancholy, regret, grief.
“Where will you go?” His voice was quiet. Don’t go, it read in his eyes.
It didn’t dawn on you, no matter how many times you came to think of it. “Some place where it is warmer, perhaps east. But that means…” your voice cracked momentarily, “Wallachia will not be a home for me.”
“But how do you know?” His calmness cracked, and beneath you could see the grief-stricken man appear, though you did not think he would be holding concern for you of all people.
You didn’t want to answer his question, despite the unknowing questions that boiled, the silence was deafening, and it hammered in your chest like the chiming of a hammer.
“I will have to leave whilst there is still light,” you squeezed Adrian’s hand before it slipped from his, “Thank you for allowing me to use your library, and… to call you a dear friend.”
You didn’t know if that pained you more to call him a friend when your feelings had bloomed for him during your time there. A friend was the only thing you could call him: why would he want anything else with you? He’s immortal, he will have lovers come and go, but none will ever be you.
“Don’t,” he called to you when he stepped out of his reach, not expecting him to call you. Your name was a whisper on his tongue, hanging in the air as if he wished to say something more to you, “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I would be overstaying here, Adrian.” You could feel tears slip from your face, but you braved not to look at him, even when you knew he was staring at you. “You said a month-”
“Please,” there it was. Pain in his voice in the way he pleaded, desperate and gentle that you didn’t think you’d see this side of him, “I don’t think… living within these walls would ever feel the same with you gone.”
He stepped out to you again.
Closer.
His hand gingerly found your chin, raising your head to meet his gaze, delicately wiping the tear collecting at the corner of your right eye. You were both silent, only staring at one another, and never did you think anyone would stare at you the way he did with you.
“You wish for me to stay?” Forever?
Your mother had told you what that feeling would be like, though she had been young and never knew the experience herself. Did Alucard’s parents experience the same when they first met?
That feeling grew within your chest, butterflies you couldn’t stop from feeling: the great emotion that one day would bless you in having. Why was it that the moment you had to leave was when it came?
‘People come and go,’ your mother told you one day when you asked about it, naïve and full of hope. ‘It hurts when it grows for those you care for.’
Yes, you understand now why it came at this moment and all the times before.
It hurt.
Love hurt when it was about to leave for the first and final time.
It was his smile, so gentle and warm, so inviting and bright – full like the sun and the beginning of spring – that you could not decline his offer.
“I would very much like that.”
-
Telling yourself you had gotten used to the castle was an understatement.
The rooms you were more familiar with were the ones you kept to, never straying that much to explore. You knew that there were many rooms even Adrian never went into, telling you that they held too many memories, either good or bad.
You were understanding, knowing how much the castle – his childhood home – could hold a lot of disturbance to what he went through. He told you one day that his childhood bedroom was off limits: it was after all, where he had killed his father. He mentioned it was a place too “dampened with gloom” that you knew something else had happened for him to keep that part of the castle off-limits.
It had only gotten the best of you when you told Adrian you were going to do some cleaning, leaving him as he cooked in the kitchen.
You sprinted with much glee and inquisitiveness: the endless hallways could lead you anywhere!
Roaming the halls, you remembered to stay away from the rooms you were not allowed to go to, including his old and current bedroom. It was quite easy to get lost, taking to the upper floors, where the light grew dimmer, more eerie.
The rooms as you found them didn’t hold much for you to be intrigued until you passed what was another room in another endless hallway, you spotted that this room had its door ajar.
This was certainly a room you had not been told of by Adrian.
Bravely, the room seemed to be more of an intrigue to you than any other room. Slowly peeling the door back, you stepped through.
The room is dimly lit, with a sense of sweet orange that lingers in the air. It’s his scent, sweet, alluring, inviting; just like what surrounds you. There are books of all assortments: astronomy, philosophy, ecology, history – to name a few. Knowledge spanning from decades to thousands of years back, of all cultures and dynasties long gone and remaining. Maps hung around the room, some of the entirety of Europe, the world and one finally above his desk of Wallachia.
It took longer to find literature, where you find poetry, prose, children’s stories and old fables. You’re shocked when you stumble across some romance novels, not expecting that to come from Adrian.
His desk is a display of many things: papers, books, and journals. You dare not look in his journals knowing his work is private, but something catches your gaze. Since when was Adrian into drawing?
You find one first that makes you pick it up, a sketch of his mother, only a fine-line sketch that is only shaded and not with much detail, but you recognise her from the portraits that decorate the castle.
Will you be needing a muse anytime soon? You think to yourself, jokingly. You knew it was rude to snoop, and knowing you had come across Adrian’s study, you knew you had the best chance to look around when he wasn’t there.
But when you find his sketchbook, all nosiness takes over.
The leather-bound book is beautifully decorated, with its pages filled to the brim from use. The beginning of the pages were those you recognised simply by objects that Adrian used for inspiration: a stag beetle shell, many plotted plants and flowers some you recognised from your mother’s herbs. You read the dates that dated back to almost a decade ago, impressed by his skill at such a young age.
The more you draw the pages further into the book, the older the dates get, and his practice grows. His inspirations change from objects to anatomy. You’re impressed by the way Adrian draws the human body so well. Some sketches of hands in different positions and poses, full body sketches of a mixture of men and women, some clothed and others nude.
You could feel your cheeks darken, and though it was surprising to see the natural state of the human body, art was still captivating in showing it, Adrian drew with a way of conveying vulnerability. His mother was a doctor after all.
Other pages were of human faces: more drawings of his mother and father. Another was of a different man and woman: the woman had short hair whilst the man had a scar over his right eye and a shadow of a wispy beard on his face. You now had a reference to Adrian’s friends and allies: Sypha and Trevor.
A Belmont, scholar and sleeping soldier, Adrian told you, all out for different clauses and paths but joined to meet on one path; to kill Dracula.
You had forgotten to make sure you were still alone and not spotted looking through his things when you reached the last few of the pages, recently used. Wait a minute. You had to do a double take, imagining you were seeing double. This isn’t… who I think it is.
Those eyes, were similar to you, not that you could remember where you had seen them last. It dawned on you quickly why they were a distant memory: they looked like your mother's eyes—but that was impossible if Adrian had never met or seen an image of her.
But, as if looking back through a mirror, a glimpse through time, those eyes weren’t just hers, but yours as well.
Oh. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you dared not drop the book to draw attention to where you were. You didn’t close it, despite feeling that this was intruding—it was too late for that now.
He had gotten your likeness in a way you didn’t think he could: as if you had been captured in a moment, ready to come back to life on the page. Another sketch of you, reclined with your nose in a book and laying in a way that could’ve been uncomfortable to anyone else. Another of you tying your hair back, the ribbon dangling in your mouth, eyes in heavy concentration. The final one took you by surprise: a moment where you were snuggled into the armchair, a blanket wrapped protectively around you to keep you warm.
Have I been so blinded this entire time? It seemed like this wasn’t right: did Alucard… fancy you? You scoffed, absolutely not, there was no way—though you the more you spiralled, the more it had you questioning everything.
You had been so preoccupied with what you had discovered, that you failed to suspect the presence behind you, someone standing just on the edge of the doorframe.
An awkward cough brought you back to your senses.
“Forgive me!” You stumbled, throwing the papers behind you to hide them behind your back, in hopes you were quick on your feet. You were clumsy, ineptly whipping back to look at the blond Dhampir standing just a few metres in the doorframe. “I did not hear you come in.”
Adrian was dressed simply in his shirt, trousers and boots as he did if the weather was not too cold. It was only a small subtle detail that his dark trousers were coated and dusted with a light cast of flour, as if he had nothing else to wipe but on them. His hair was also tied up, revealing his slender neck, wisps of blond tresses falling to frame his handsome angular features.
How long had he been waiting there for? You panicked, knowing that he could’ve used his speed to reach you, using his inhuman scent of smell or to pick up your heart rate to find you.
“Yes, well, you did seem rather… occupied.” Adrian teased, though his face was incomprehensible, his movements leisurely as he ambled into the room, inspecting if anything looked out of place.
Was he just as embarrassed as how you were feeling? Regardless if he was or not, he was very good at hiding it from you.
He stopped just to the side of his desk, eyes quickly scanning as he spotted the disarray of papers, his sketchbook ‘neatly’ placed back where it looked to have been before. He did not say anything about it, instead, resuming conversation as if nothing was out of place.
“I was asking if you were free to help me downstairs. I needed assistance in deciding which spices to add to the cakes.” He continued, watching the way you shuffled to block what you were putting back on the desk.
You were not subtle in the slightest but Adrian did not make any remark for you to be snooping, rather, he watched on in visible amusement. The refined look when he raised an eyebrow, the small smirk that made you even more flustered when you were caught.
“Okay, ready.” You gestured for him to walk in front, hanging back as you took a final glance back, wondering when Adrian started drawing you.
-
It’s his idea when he decides the two of you should share a bottle of wine.
Though you think it’s not good to have the entire bottle, Adrian agrees upon a glass or two, sharing thoughts as the night grows dark with the creatures of the forest outside, and your worries melt for a moment on your tongue.
The wine is sweet, not though you like it, and it's hard to consume something that feels so foreign. Adrian drinks it as if it's water, and you struggle to keep up. You’re a lightweight after all, and though you’re slower, you can feel the haziness that crawls in your vision, and you swear you’re almost seeing double.
Your laughter is warmer, chatter easier, and you notice he’s closer beside you by the table when he first brings the bottle and glasses.
“This is nice,” his voice does not slur as he speaks, and you’re shocked just by how content he is in drinking glass after glass if he could. If perhaps you didn’t say anything, perhaps he would, “It’s been some time since I stopped drinking.”
“When did you stop?” You can feel a headache begin to dull your senses, and you’re feeling bolder.
Adrian seems hesitant when he looks back at you before he answers. “I stopped after a couple of days after your arrival.” He’s nervously swirling the glass in small circles on the table, a distraction. “I’m sure the smell of piss and blood wasn’t helping.”
You chortle, “No, it didn’t, but I don’t suppose I was any different. A girl smelling of chickens.”
“I did wonder why.” He says in a dry tone, but his eyes are sincere, and you find yourself staring periodically down at his lips, the glint of his sharp teeth some distraction from the wine.
“It seems funny when I say it now, but I used to have two, and they had names.”
Adrian seems surprised by this, that of all things to have named were chickens, but he coaxes you with a raised brow, intrigued, to say the least. “Tell me they had normal names.”
“Henrietta and Duchess.”
“Oh, my God,” Adrian laughs quietly, “Next you’ll say you had a pig called Duke and a horse called Lieutenant.”
“Well, the pig was called Truffle.”
“Seems almost cruel,” Adrian laughs at the idea, “I don’t think I was any different. I did have a stuffed wolf called Fluffy.”
“Hey, that’s cute though.”
You laugh at the idea, but you’re carrying a sad smile as you continue to sip slowly at your drink. “I loved those chickens. It was weird, but I treated them like humans rather than animals—livestock. They were much nicer than-” You stop yourself mid-sentence, unsure if you’re ready to continue.
Your stomach coils as if ready to lurch, for you to leap from your chair and leave to your room, but Adrian is calm and patient, running a soothing hand over yours to console you.
“Take your time,” he says with quiet empathy, and it’s enough to pull you back to reality. “I’m here.”
“After my mama’s death, I fled to the nearby town—I was on the streets for some time, hiding behind buildings and sometimes getting shelter from a sweet old lady, before I was old enough to sell myself as a servant to any passing man who needed my service.”
You felt sick to your stomach, and the wine was not helping. “I stayed in his service for almost a decade, serving his son and wife who was no older than me.” You confessed. “It all boiled down one day when I was fed up with the fucking treatment. I was beaten if I did something incorrect, slapped if I spoke when not spoken to, and something… snapped in me. I… hurt him when he hurt me.” You pushed the wine away from you, eyes welling with tears. “I wish I did more.”
“You survived,” Adrian said with a sad grimace, “You’re much braver than most I know.”
“I didn’t feel brave then,” you admitted. “I felt like a stupid little girl, not capable of anything.”
“Hey,” Adrian seems clumsy in giving close comfort, but he tried nonetheless, leaning closer to finally embrace you. He smelt of oranges and lavender, and you nearly broke down into his shoulder, “you’re the strongest person I know. The bravest witch.”
He seemed tongue-tied with his next words, eyes moving across your face as if he wished to say something that you yearned to hear. “I’m proud of you.” He finally said, but in your mind, it didn’t seem like it was what he wanted to say as if there was something he was holding back.
Was I overthinking? You thought as you pulled away from his embrace, so tempted to lean across the table and kiss him there and then, but you pulled enough restraint to not horrify the man. “Thank you, Adrian. I’m thankful I have you.” You finally said.
“I’m thankful too.” He confesses, quickly realising what he’s just said and the blush on his face is obvious as he tries to change the subject. “I will leave you to catch some sleep. I thought it would be a good idea to head into town tomorrow morning. Gather some more supplies. What do you say?”
You smile sadly, “That’s a good idea.” You’re on your feet fast enough as you say goodnight to one another before you’re speeding down the hallway to your room, wiping the tears that have not dried from your face.
When you reach your room, you slink against the inside of the door. Your head is hammering, vision is hazy. Damn for drinking so much. You groan, only listening to the crackling of the fire lit in your room, the soft luring sound of crisp pages of a book being shut as a lovely interference.
“Ah, there you are.” the voice that pulled you from your thoughts was the one thing you needed to hear, sweet as honey as the figure emerged to stand close by from where you stood. His soft locks are pulled back from his face, and he’s practically glowing in the soft ambers of your room, the fire gently burning to keep the warmth.
Your lips are pulled into a tired smile, which the Dhampir notices quickly enough to soothe you for a night of sleep. “You’re exhausted, my little witch.” He’s yanking you by your hand, directing you to your bed. “You need sleep before it comes for you first.”
“Was it so obvious?” You laugh dryly, and the lack of sleep is fast indeed; your eyes are heavy, limbs sluggish as your mind slows from the alcohol. “I can get myself to bed by myself, you know?”
“I don’t doubt you,” he scolds lightly, the way he moves you is more persistent. “Dreams help everything go away, isn’t that what your mother said?”
“Yes.” You drawl quietly, silent in watching Adrian move around you, sitting you delicately on the edge of the side of the bed. He is gentle in getting you settled for the night, removing your outer layers of clothing until you’re left in your chemise. There is nothing overtly sexual in the way he undresses you, more so there’s such a tenderness to his touches that it almost leaves you weeping.
When you’re ready, he follows, undressing until he stands in his nightgown. You watch as he goes to as he crawls onto the other side to lay there. Shutting his eyes, his light blond hair cascades around the pillow like a halo, his body silent and still as stone.
You’re staring for some time before he speaks up, aware even without having to open your eyes. “Are you going to watch me sleep or are you going to join me?” He cracks one eye open, full of mirth as he catches the exact moment your face brightens.
“Right.” You scootch over closer, lying stiffly beside him on your back, not daring to get any cosier before he stretches like a cat, catching you by surprise as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in close.
“You’re shaking like a leaf, little witch.” He jokes, humming as he rests his head into the crook of your neck. This is all so real, and you dare fear if you fall asleep, it’ll all be gone, a fading memory to die in the back of your mind. “Am I that cold?”
“No,” you finally relax in his hold, having turned to face him, a feeling you wish not to ever forget. “It feels nice.”
“I’m sure one thing could make you feel better,” his eyes are open, watching you almost hawkishly, scooting himself closer. “Though, I’d have to know what you think.”
“What is it?”
He doesn’t answer you directly, but his eyes tell you what you’ve been waiting for. It’s the way his gold eyes glance from your eyes down to your lips, way too slowly before coming back up to meet your flustered state.
Neither of you make the first move, your heart is hammering too fast that you can barely keep up with your racing thoughts. You know he can hear how fast it's pumping, thunderous and dreadful against your ribs. It feels like it could explode any second.
Should I wait for him to lean in? Or would it be better for me to meet him halfway? To see how he reacts.
With your mind racing, your body moves on its own, ignoring your many questions and moving with little patience. A hand finds his cheek, stroking his cheekbone in contemplation, soft to the touch that you gasp from just the exhilaration alone.
You’re not waiting for him when you’re leaning close to him, closer and closer until his face is inches from yours. Your noses bump as you catch the final moment where his eyes flutter shut as you’re copying, stretching over until your lips meet his.
You didn’t know how long you had been counting for this moment to happen. Drinking him in, he is the sun, and you are a secluded plant, waiting for his rays to keep you from shrivelling. His lips are soft, neither warm nor cool as your contact is chaste and quick, and all that is gone when you’re not chasing for more-
“No,” you rasp as you pull yourself from him, leaping up to sit on the edge of the bed. “This is wrong.”
“Oh?” He doesn’t seem dissatisfied or enraged, rather it seems more like a question. He is calm when he asks, voice a soft rumble. “Is it wrong because you wish to continue? Or because you wish to experience this with him?”
You slump in your spot, guilt overflowing your body like a wave, ready to drown. “It’s wrong because… I’m using him.” You hug yourself, ready to weep aloud from it all. “I’m using him for this twisted fantasy, just to feel happy.”
This fake version of Adrian is collected, reaching your side of the bed as he places a consoling hand on your shoulder. “Happy… that you want to imagine a future with him?”
“Yes. Is that so wrong to have?” You sigh exasperated. “I want him to be happy, but I fear… I will never give him that happiness.”
“He’s been through so much already.” You continue. “I think of him all the time: like how the sun can’t live without the moon.”
You’re completely consumed by Adrian: mind, body and soul and it aches that this crush will continue to remain as one. His acts of kindness have completely floored you, confusing you to the point that you were left over questioning every small act he did for you.
The night is long and you’re left distraught, conjuring a version of him that you hope can give you comfort. “What do I do?”
“Tell him the truth.”
Your head snaps almost drastically to glare at the fake version, who simply looks just as perplexed as you. “I’m just a manifested form you created of him in your head whilst inebriated. I’m the wrong person you should be talking to.”
Sighing defeatedly, you look to him for security. “I’m… confused.”
“How so?”
“Well, I know he sees me as a friend, but he’s just so thoughtful. He carries me back to bed, and we spend all day together. I mean, he drew sketches of me for fuck’s sake—that’s saying something, isn’t it?”
“He seems lonely too.” ‘Adrian’ answers, but it’s a reasonable answer that could be what you’re looking for, regardless of how you’re feeling.
“I know, I know. He’s awkward, but it can’t just be out of friendship.”
“Tell him in the morning,” he says, “you can’t see for yourself if he’s quick to reciprocate your feelings for him. Perhaps then you’ll be able to cuddle something that’s flesh and bone.”
You chortle at his words, knowing how uncanny and realistic he is sitting beside you. “Can we just- can we just cuddle for the rest of the night? Just so I don’t feel so lonely.”
Alucard gives you a sorrowful smile, pulling you into a side embrace. “You realise I won’t be there by morning?”
It’s a sad realisation, but you come to accept it. “I know. I just… want to imagine feeling something for once.”
“Of course, my little witch,” he kisses your forehead lovingly, leading you both back down to lie on the bed. The bed doesn’t feel as big when you share it with another, now in the fond embrace of the Dhampir you conjured in your mind.
“Sleep well, Y/N.” He tells you all the right things you want to hear, the lull of sleep pulls you in deeper and deeper, his voice growing quieter. “I’m still here with you, no matter what.”
“I love you,” you slur as darkness consumes you, the heaviness of your body pulling you into a sleep you need. You don’t feel upset when you don’t hear a response, just the arms of his embrace.
By the time early morning comes, the other side of the bed is cold, and the ghost of Adrian’s arms remains.
It’s not just knowing that the person on the other side of the hallway would never know how you felt, but the sense that you could never go back to seeing him just as a dear friend.
-
A/N:
This was a long one to write, but I hope you enjoyed it!
A/N: God, I just replayed Måneskin The Loneliest on a 10-hour repeat while writing this. Some warning of language and hinted sexual wording, but more of the case it's just Alucard being mentally a teenager.
Summary: Teasing ensues, history is unlocked, and questions begin to be asked and answered.
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Chapter 6
“Let me help you with that.”
The vegetables from Alucard’s garden had flourished and it brought in bountiful meals for the both of you to share. The pantry had grown with a wide array of vegetables, fish and sometimes certain meats Alucard had gathered whilst hunting. It had become a routine for him to hunt and you to help when you could, and share mealtimes and cook with one another.
“Thank you.” He murmured, his fingers were in the dirt when he scooped out another carrot, gathering it into his basket whilst you helped pull another potato. Your hands would occasionally touch accidentally, mistaking one another for the root vegetable, laughing it awkwardly off.
Your days in the castle were dwindling, and you could not forget the promise Alucard had given to you. Sanctuary from the outside world would soon meet you, and you would have to find your way away from Wallachia. You didn’t want to think much of it, despite it being on your mind daily and when you went to sleep. Where would you go anyways? One that looked like you was very hard to find, especially with the rise of witches being burnt by the Catholic church.
Your spell studies came with ease the more you practised, tending to forget about sleep in the early hours of the night when Alucard came and reminded you that it was better to rest with a clear mind. But you knew it was for the best: whatever was out there, you had to be ready, no matter what.
“Spring will surely come.” You spoke after some time, gathering what was necessary and slowly making your way back inside the castle. The days had still been short, nights long and air chilled that you had to wrap closely with the necessary clothes Alucard had been nice to give you. “I look forward to the warmer weather.”
“I hope it brings new beginnings,” says Alucard, “Spring represents rebirth after all.”
You can tell he’s speaking about himself in some way, that there’s some part of him that wants to move past whatever had occurred with the twins, but you know there is something that slumbers deep within, dormant and not ready to resurface.
You also wish to tell him that your time with him is dwindling, to remind him that you will not be able to stay much longer due to your promise and that one hurts within you. No matter how rocky your beginnings were, you have grown fond of the Dhampir, and you’re worried there is something within Alucard that will be thankful to see you gone, to grow recluse once more.
“Perhaps you’ll be able to bring in new stock from nearby towns,” you suggest, but your words do not include you within them. Alucard seems quiet, though you notice that something lurks within his honey-coloured eyes. “I suppose bringing in new stock would help liven our food when we can stray away from soups.”
“Soups are very nutritious! It’s the perfect time to have them this time of year.”
“They are,” he chuckles softly, “only if you’re elderly or lacking teeth. Or both.”
You hear his playful tone, though you’re quick to tease him back, “Not something you can sink your teeth into?”
“I’m in no need to feed on blood,” he specifies, and you catch the glint of his sharp fangs when he speaks that keep you hypnotised to them. “It is not something that I need to give me constant substance.”
It makes sense why you haven’t seen him have a glass of red for dinner, more so just the regular kind or white that you both share. It does bring questions to flood your mind: if he doesn’t need blood and can eat regular food, does he still need it as if it’s a last-minute option?
Would you bite into my neck, or have you ever thought about doing so? You want to ask him, but the question remains glued in the back of your mind, forever locked there in case you offend him. You do not doubt that he would’ve ripped your throat out at your first encounter, though is it an occurring thought to him? Does he catch looking at your pulse from time to time? Does he look at your neck, hear your heartbeat and ponder the thought?
“It’s a good thing you’re only half then,” you grinned sheepishly, following into the kitchen to prep the vegetables for dinner. “Like how I am only part witch, not even one who found her true potential.”
“Half is better than nothing at all,” he adds, handing you the knife as he saunters off to the sink, grinning back at you with the smallest of smirks, “You’re still fully human and those vegetables need chopping, little witch.”
You groan which only brings both of you to laugh at the expense, “Yes, chef.”
-
When you find time before dinner and after chopping veg, you spend time in the library, practising to perfect the craft of astral projection. You're rather proud of yourself and don’t freak out as much as you did the first few times. You find you happen to do it more often in your sleep, floating just above your sleeping form as you float around your room. The first time you realise you can still study whilst in an astral form is game-changing: you can study at the desk, whilst not even feeling one bit exhausted from an entire night of reading.
You also find a spell that brings you to contemplate what right you should use on someone. You think you would do it to yourself one day, but the thought brings you to feel guilt more than anything else, especially if Alucard finds out. Instead, you keep it hidden under your pillow, ready one day you decide out of morbid curiosity.
When you’re not reading into the late hours of the night, you’re floating through the castle, like a ghost haunting the halls. You find the castle at night, in the depths of utter darkness are the most haunting, and you’re frightened by the darkened portraits that stare back at you as you go by.
You stick to the rooms you know, opting to float in the hallway as you contemplate if Alucard is still awake at this hour. His room is not far from you, but you always promise yourself you keep to his words and not venture in there, regardless if he’s in a state of consciousness or not.
It’s after dinner when Alucard hands you a cloak, his words gentle as he holds out a guiding hand to you. “I’d like to show you something.”
“Outside?” You say aloud, and Alucard chuckles lightly at your disbelief. “We won’t be attacked by night creatures, will we?”
“Not with me around.” He says, and you watch his longsword fling itself from one part of the castle into his holster. You’re thankful he has it to protect himself and you from whatever is out there, and also more thankful you don’t see it so often when you’re with him.
You both step out and the chill greets you and travels down your dress, making you quietly gasp, clinging to Alucard as if he’s the shield to keep you protected from all. You awkwardly step a bit further from him, but he does not say anything.
“What is out here that is of interest to you?” You ask though you would rather be indoors by the fire, rather than shivering into the night’s air.
Alucard doesn’t say anything as he leads you just beyond his garden, close to the forest but not too far that you cannot see the castle. He stops by a river, letting go of your hand as he turns back to you. “Wait here, the surprise is here.”
“Wait, where are you going?” You ask, and the fear heightens within you, like a tendril that gasps and pulls at your heart, making its way like icy death. He can’t be serious, can he? But from having known Alucard for nearly three weeks, in such a short amount of time, anything he’s said and meant, he’s been serious in doing.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” he reassures, and his golden eyes seem to be glowing in the darkness of the trees. They are the only things you can see when your eyes are failing to adjust to the darkness. “I promise it to you.”
You believe him, he’s your only protection after all, and you sit by the river when you hear his figure leave, but you cannot hear him. You’re shivering either from the cold or fear alone, and the seconds feel like minutes the more you wait.
Your fear has spiked when you’re listening closely to the noises of the outside: of the water trickling, the crickets chirping, the wind that howls and the snapping of a twig close by
You jolt up, survival instincts kick in and you feel like a deer almost caught in a trap, eyes looking everywhere and anywhere they can seen within ten feet of you.
“Alucard?” You rasp, and you hug yourself more when you hear no response.
Oh fuck.
You’re trying to listen closely, but all sounds blend as one as you debate whether running back to the castle is your safest option. If it’s a night creature, you’re dead and you don’t think running from one would be beneficial to you, knowing full well that it could outrun you.
Would Alucard be able to run to catch up with you?
Whilst you’re debating what to do, something else catches your attention, and from just across where the river bends, you see something that has emerged from the bushes. Your body freezes, and you traverse to that time in your youth when you’re staring down those eyes, fangs flashing as you run as fast as your legs can carry you.
Your breathing has hitched as you take in the figure, and realise… it’s massive.
Despite the darkness, you see that its fur is white, its legs are powerful and could easily outrun you. It’s majestic, powerful and evermore agile and dangerous than any creature you’ve encountered. Your eyes trail up from its legs, up past its huge torso and up to its head, eyes staring back at you with the same inquisitiveness you had staring back at it.
Golden eyes that had engulfed the sun.
“Easy.” You say aloud, and the wolf doesn’t do anything but stare back, watching with as much hesitation as you show in your body language. You’re certain it’s not going to attack you: just from how its ears are pinned back and it's not snarling at you as a threat.
It’s only with the minutes ticking by, that you realise, oh, God, it’s approaching.
“Whoa, erm… stay back.” You warn, but it falls on deaf ears when it crosses the small path in the river, coming as close as it can towards you. Even whilst you sit on a slope, it’s towering over you, and you can only do is stare back into its eyes, soulful, wise eyes.
It takes two and two to be put together, and then you’re saying aloud, “Alucard?”
The wolf huffs as if to respond ‘finally’, slouching next to you, his large body slumping to rest against you, sniffing your hand before resuming to rest his head on your lap. You freeze, before your hands come up to experimentally run through his fur. You gasp in surprise, giggling to yourself as you gain the Dhampir’s attention.
“You never told me how soft you were.” You ran your hands just over his snout, above his brow line and in between his ears, which earns him to snort before he relaxes more into you. Your other hand is stroking down his back and across his broad chest, cooing to tease him further.
“Aww, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”
Alucard – if at this moment was human – huffed in a moment to stop your antics, and you could only laugh knowing you had embarrassed him with your words. It wasn’t long before the Dhampir you knew was back in front of you, glaring at you with those familiar golden eyes.
“Very funny,” his cheeks are a pink hue but he’s thankful you can’t notice within the twilight. “You enjoyed that too much.”
“You’re cute as a wolf.” You add, and you erupt into laughter as Alucard covers his face, groaning from further humiliation.
“Oh, my God.” Alucard is rasping between laughs, his eyes glossy compared to the moonlight that shines above, “I’ll never hear the end of this.”
“Nope, you will now be called ‘little wolf’.”
“Oh, god, no.”
“Ooh, or how about ‘little pup’?”
“That’s even worse,” you’re laughing with one another and the atmosphere is lively and warm despite the chill that surrounds you. It feels as if you’ve known Alucard your entire life, and it’s just you two in the universe.
“How did you know you could do that?” You ask when you can finally speak again.
“It just happened one day,” he hummed. “My father has always been a powerful man, and the gifts he carried over his lifetime he shared through to me naturally. I think that day it happened, I gave my mother quite the fright.”
“I can imagine.” You laugh sadly. “It’s still amazing that The Dracula fell in love with a human woman. Dhampirs are a rare occurrence, some not living as long as you into adulthood.”
“It amazes me too,” Alucard agreed with the words as if it had been in his mind the moment he came into the world. “I suppose I was just lucky.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here though,” you add, trying to hide the way you blush from your compliment, though it hangs in indignity by your words. “I mean—here in this moment, not you know—"
“You’re lucky my parents… copulated?” He teases.
“Oh, God, Alucard, you’re not an eighty-year-old man. You can say use a more natural term for it.” You’re next to copy him by burying your face into your hands. You can’t believe you’re having this conversation with him in the first place!
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tongue-tied,” he eases, nudging your shoulder to look back at him. “It’s amusing.”
Your heart hammers in your chest and you shamelessly make out the shape of his lips in the twilight, the way they’re curved in a soft smile. Looking away before you’re caught, you’re certain he’s noticed but does not say anything.
He’s quick to change the subject, directing it to you this time. “Tell me more about your mother, what was her origin?”
You’re surprised, he’s never been one to ask about your origin, for you didn’t think it mattered. “Well, my mama was fairly young when she had me, I think around the age of sixteen. I didn’t know much about my father or who he was. Mama told me our people came from Cabo Branco in Africa. They were taken by the Portuguese and shipped to their land, where I assume some managed to find their way east, as far as Wallachia. My father, I assume, was fully Wallachian, though I don’t know what his relation was to my mother.”
Alucard listens attentively to your words, only asking questions when necessary. “Do you think… he kept her as his property?” He asks quietly.
“Perhaps,” you hug yourself, “she was young after all, relying on him for shelter and food, and I have no doubt he was the reason she fled with her life away from him.”
Alucard hums in thought. “You sisters… tell me about them.”
“Oh, they came from everywhere.” You seem a bit more comforted to talk about them, though you mourn them just as much as your mother. “Some were slaves, fleeing with their mothers, sisters and daughters. They established themselves in Wallachia a few centuries back, a powerful coven that had spread across Europe. But their numbers dwindled over time. Vampires and witches have never liked one another, and one day, one vampire decided he was to lead an army to dimmish their power, and their numbers. They were halved to what they were originally, further hiding themselves and isolating from the land in fears of being caught.”
Alucard’s words aren’t that smooth and soft, rather raspy and hoarse. “This vampire, was he-”
“Yes, your father, Dracula.”
“I… apologise,” he consoles, and it takes you by surprise. “I apologise on his behalf for what he did to your people. Many have suffered from my father’s hands, and yet, it feels odd to call him my father.”
“He was regardless of everything, Alucard, was your father.” You comforted, reaching to take his hand into yours. “Mourn the father he was, not the man he was known for.”
Alucard is taken aback by your words, and for a moment, you believe you will see him cry just from the softness of his eyes. “Thank you, it has taken some time to remember my father as what my mother saw him as. A scientist, a traveller, a loyal husband and father.”
The two of you sat in content for a moment, staring out at the river, listening to the calmness of the night. You could feel Alucard’s gaze fixated on you from the corner of your peripheral as if he wanted to confess something to you.
“My mother named me Adrian, for she did not like the name of Alucard used to compare me to Dracula.” He mused, squeezing your hand gently. “I’d very much like you to call me that too.”
Rouge reached your face as you nodded, knowing that you would keep your promise, despite the despair in your heart growing, knowing one day, you would never see him again.
A/N: Gosh, this chapter was enjoyable to write. Feelings are beginning to brew and I can't wait to see where it goes!
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Chapter 5
Days pass with the rising and falling of the sun, and soon you find that your stay at the castle has reached a fortnight.
They blended into one whilst you were there, and you sadly had to admit, you had grown used to living there.
It was the fact that your time was coming up (that was one of your many worries), but the fact that you’ve grown rather accustomed to being in Alucard’s presence.
You wonder if he’s the same: having seen him more often and gotten the chance to speak with him on the daily.
You wake to the calling of your name from him outside your bedroom door, sharing meals and helping to the garden outside. When the evenings come, you help one another cook dinner, before you either find yourself buried in the books in the library or sharing the fire in the reception. It took some convincing but he also took the time to take down those corpses, giving them a proper burial and to ‘put that moment in the past and look forward.’
You did not judge or ask further questions, only if he wanted to talk more about it.
You didn’t know those people, but he told you their names: Taka and Sumi. They hailed from Japan, an island country far from here that you had heard of but had never seen their people before. You could say the same about yourself, for you don’t think you had seen someone with as dark a skin complexion as your mother for a while.
No, you had gone for some time not seeing someone like you, being a witch and woman of colour. But you couldn’t help but feel that it didn’t matter when you spent your days with Alucard.
He was very mature for his age due to the lack of children his age. You had come to be told that his body had matured quicker than his age, so in tell, he was mentally younger than you at 18. It made sense for his boyish humour and rather immature toilet jokes. He told you he got them from Trevor, a Belmont through and through.
It was the little things about him that you had grown so used to, that you didn’t realise how much you would miss them when you had to go.
It was a yearning in your chest, one that grew with each day, and the more you spent your days with Alucard, laughing, it felt like you had known him for an entire lifetime. He will want you gone, you told yourself when you remembered; He will grow bored of you. It hurt, but the more you pushed yourself away or tried to, the more you found yourself coming back for more.
Instead, you stuck to your spells, learning by the hour until your back was sore from hunching over them.
Alucard had found you once, way into the night, surrounded by books once more, fast asleep with your hand still over the words you were reading. He could not help the small smile to grace his features, muttering to himself softly, ‘This is where I always find you now. Nose deep in some book.’
He leant over you, careful not to disturb you, listening to the rhythmic beat of your heart, your skin flush from the warmth in the room. Your face was half-smushed into the pages, but Alucard found it more amusing than scolding you for ruining his father’s books. He had been the same, pouring into his books as his mother had done when she carried him. His father spoke about how Lisa must’ve swallowed a candlestick and book to get him started, but Alucard found he enjoyed sharing the two gifts his parents loved.
And now he got to share it with someone else.
No, Alucard had found it rather endearing to see you like this most nights, enveloping you into his arms as he carried you to bed like a child, watchful in making sure the book in your hand stayed by your grip.
He found your room and set you on the bed, gathering the sheets to pull around you, as a protection from the outside wonders and dreads of the castle.‘Sleep well, little witch,’ he had come to use that nickname on you often. ‘Dream of the broomsticks and caldrons you can use to conjure great spells.’
When you would wake from a sleep of comfort, you would find yourself in your bed, a warmth spreading over you and into your chest and the day would repeat again.
It was this morning when as the two of you sat over breakfast you asked Alucard an important question.
“The hold—the Belmont hold – you told me about it once– is it okay if I can go down there?”
“It is yours,” Alucard is quick to answer, almost too quick to your liking for someone he’s grown used to sharing the same four walls with. “No one has used it for some hundred years. It may be a requirement for me to help you reach it though.”
“Oh, why is that?”
He seems almost bashful with his answer, a crooked smile gracing his handsome features. “The stairs down were destroyed, due to… an unfortunate encounter with some creatures of the night.”
“Ah, makes sense, how would we get down then?” You crunched into your stale bread.
“We’ll jump.”
“Jump?” You nearly choked on the food in your throat, staring at him as if he had grown ten heads. “Can I remind you I’m fully human? I don’t think I’d survive a fall that high.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he says, and the look in his eyes is serious, and you half dread, half inquisitive about what he has installed for you.
-
“I don’t know about this, Alucard.”
“I have you,” Alucard stares down the abyss as if it's nothing as if he’s dropped from heights like that a thousand times before. “I will not be letting go of you.”
“You say that,” you don’t want to match him and lean over the broken bannister, staring down before you chicken out, “but I’ll be the one screaming all the way down.”
He gives a gentle smile and a reassuring hand, “Would I ever let you fall?”
Never.
“No.” You blush easily now when he’s charming, his voice soft and soothing.
“Good,” he’s ready, but you’re not. “I’ll carry you if it makes things easier.”
“O-Okay,” you shakily perch one hand onto his shoulder, squeaking as he scoops you up with ease into his arms. He doesn’t even break a sweat, holding you bridal style. His chest is warm when you thump against it, inches from his face and very aware that you’re staring dead on at him.
“You’re shaking like a leaf,” he laughs to make you feel at ease, but you’re more shaking as to what is to happen next. “It’ll be over in eight seconds.”
“Eight seconds is a long time to fall,” your voice rises the closer he inches, and your holding onto him is not very ladylike. To Hell with the ladylikeness, I’m dangling off the edge, ready to fall. “Oh, why didn’t you install new stairs?”
“That would’ve been easier.” Alucard muses, and he stares down at you momentarily. “I’m here, I’ll never let you go, remember?”
“I know-” you squeeze your eyes tight as before you can even finish your sentence, the ground leaves you both as Alucard steps off, and the air holds you momentarily still. You await for gravity to meet and plunge you down, your stomach somersaulting, but instead, you open one eye to stare at the Dhampir owlishly.
“You can-”
“Fly? Yes, well, I wanted to keep some of the thrills.” He ponders good-humouredly, and you’re almost gaping like a fish when he begins to slowly descend with you in his arms down into the hold.
“It’s a good thing I wasn’t screaming.” Your skin is alight with a furious blush, aware now that your nerves were basically for nothing, but you still felt at ease thanks to Alucard’s words. You don’t miss the way his face blooms into a pale pink hue that spreads across his face.
The two of you reached the bottom and gingerly, Alucard let you back to the ground, your legs shaking when they met the floor. When you look up, you see how much of everything is in disarray. The staircase leading up is completely destroyed, its remaining stones a heap just inches from where you both stand. The many paintings on the walls are slanted from being knocked, and others are smashed to the floor and ripped to shreds. Only one hangs in perfect shape: a man in opulent and gleaming gold and white armour, a fur-white trimmed cloak hanging off him and a longsword he holds. He has the same hair colour as Alucard, though he is shorter in length and his eyes seem blue.
You squint at the portrait closer, “Is that-”
“The one who started it all, Leon Belmont. Unfortunately, his one living descendant runs amok Wallachia.” Alucard frowns, “God forbid having more Belmonts running around.”
He does like to talk highly of his friend and fellow vampire hunter. You think, before the two of you continue onwards.
Alucard opens the door, slamming it open as if something blocks the way, and you’re welcomed into what could only be described as a large pit, filled with wonder and knowledge.
Though some of the books are thrown about, shelves destroyed and much of the content that has been stored is ruined, you very much feel in awe, standing in what is years of history.
“This place is amazing! The years it must’ve taken to gather so much knowledge- so much history!” You beam, not knowing where to start. Alucard doesn’t share your excitement and you’re quick to look back on him, staring back at him with fondness. “What is the matter?”
He does not speak but only directs your attention to what stands on a shelf close by, and you look in horror and realisation at the shelf with skulls, all similar sizes with teeth not similar to that of a human. The shelf is a decorative collection of vampire skulls, and you understand quickly.
“Oh.”
“You can imagine why I have little warmth for a place like this.” Alucard grimaces, his face a wall of acceptance. “It was the place of knowledge in destroying what was known of vampires.”
I have upset him. You realise. “Forgive me, I overstepped with my excitement. I’m a fool for not realising.” Though the Dhampir is quick to forgive. He steps close, and the proximity makes you feel lightheaded from the sudden closeness.
“You need not apologise, little witch,” he soothes with his dulcet tones, “I’m not one to be offended quick… not by you.”
You relax to hear your words, and a bit happier to know that. “Okay… well, I won’t keep you too long. Just wanted to gather some more books.”
Alucard is happy to help, gathering the necessary ones you need that can be helpful. Who would’ve thought that the Belmont clan had so much information about so many monsters, including witches?
Your happiness with your selection brings you to take everything back up, as you track back through and up to the world of the living. Though it is a great place, you can’t help but feel how there was a sense of doom that lurked in a lonely place like that. It is a surviving gravesite. You tell yourself as you’re carried back up by Alucard.
The rest of the night, you find yourself in the reception, reading quietly with Alucard elsewhere in the castle. The crackle of the fire is the only thing that resounds in the room, all whilst you lay there, a sense of tiredness lurks in your bones. You’ve not had time to yourself, and though your mind screams to remain awake, your body is slower, and you find your mouth slurring with the words that grow quieter.
“Requiesco. Requiesco… Requiesco.”
.
.
.
You don’t know how long you’re asleep for, for your body floats in a state of limbo, rolling the way you move to get comfortable, like waves undulating in the ocean. You groan though you do not feel the softness of the Corinthia beneath you until you groggily open your eyes.
You find your body lying rigidly, hovering just inches from hitting the ceiling, see-through and translucent enough to see the wall next to you. Bubbling to your throat, you scream, scrabbling as you adjust to the situation, before looking down. “Am I… dead?”
You look down below you, to see… you. You’re laying as if asleep, the book lying within your lap, eyelashes curled with no knowing if your body is conscious to be breathing.
“No, no, no, no. I can’t be dead.” You gasp, screaming out to call for Alucard, knowing you would not be able to be heard. You were an apparition it seemed, though you did not die, you think—no, tell yourself.
You float down closer to your body, clawing at the air as you swim closer. Your body was indeed alive, though it was as if you were staring back at yourself as a spectator rather than a participant.
Curiously, you tentatively reach out to yourself, watching in horror as your hand moves right through you, going right through your body.
“How did this happen?” You kept telling yourself over and over, not aware that the door had opened, and in came a figure.
“There you are.”
“Alucard, I can explain-” You reached for him, but the Dhampir walked right past you, walking towards your sleeping form. “Alucard?” You reached to him, touching his shoulder and expecting to go through him as you did with yourself, except your touch recoiled the moment you touched him as if you had been electrocuted.
He was cold, ice cold like a corpse.
“What are you reading this time, little witch?” His voice is a soft lull, pulling your attention when he tenderly pulls the book off your lap, taking in the pages you were reading. “Astral projection? This one is new. Though, I do hope you don’t take to acting as a ghost within these walls.” He chuckles wryly to himself. “This castle holds too many already.”
You watch the act, the way he is tender to you, and you never realise just how he was when you were asleep. Your heart leaps when you watch him collect a blanket from a nearby chaise, pulling it over you as he makes sure you’re comfortable and cosy.
“Sleep well, little witch.” He whispers, a hand gingerly coming to coil around one of your curls experimentally, retracting quickly as if he was scared to be caught.
Alucard stands and steps past you again, walking out of the room to leave you alone and you can only watch at the tenderness you just witnessed. If you had not believed it had been you he was making sure was comfortable, you believed you could’ve grown almost… jealous.
That could wait, you needed to get back into your body. The only thing you could remember from the pages was to place your astral form back into your host form. You crawled back onto the seat, laying just as the way you were sleeping, feeling the tugs that came when you tried fitting your legs and fingers into place.
When you laid your head after feeling comfortable, you screwed your eyes shut, and suddenly were flooded with light and hazy surroundings that came from your body jolting mid-sleep. Your lungs burned with air, your eyes watering from the sight of the fire, sensitive to the brightness, before you looked down at yourself.
When your hands came up to your face, aware that you were back, the grin that reached your face was bright and gleaming.
A/N: Thank you for your patience! This chapter will be to begin the brewing tension! Hope you enjoy it!
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Chapter 4
Three days pass after you come into Alucard’s castle, and you realise just how secluded the Dhampir liked to be.
Alucard kept to himself most times: tending to his garden, gathering food for when the days would get shorter, nights longer. You would also occasionally see him train with his sword in the front. He was one with the sword, and it acted almost as its being, moving on a whim without him telling him where to go next.
You could only imagine how much he had seen to fight so well, or how or who taught him to fight like such. A true warrior with a gentle heart.
It was a lonely occurrence, living with someone you barely saw, so you tended to find your nose stuck in a book rather than be truly alone within the tall walls.
You stuck to Dracula’s library, pouring over and collecting as many books as you could. You were surprised just by how many spells you could learn: astral projection, levitation, puppetry, the list was endless! It truly brought hope that you could pour as much learning in before you would be sent away from the one place full of knowledge.
Who knew Dracula had a fascination with witches?
It was only for breakfast or dinner you would have the blessing of sharing with him, and your conversations were to a minimum. Not much was spoken apart from going over your days, and then one or both of you would help tidy and clear the dishes, before going off to different parts of the castle for the rest of the evening.
Aside from the books, you craved a chance for normalcy, a chance to connect with someone who never wanted to open up to you. There were times he spoke about the things of his life, his mother and what his father did. It was a rare time when he spoke of the two friends he gained, Sypha and Trevor.
You couldn’t stand to be like this for the rest of the month, stuck between walls with no one to chat to, no one to feel human with. It was only fair you tried making it up to Alucard: to thank him for all he had done so far. After all, he could’ve killed you the first chance he had, instead, he had fed you, given you clean clothes, hot water to bathe and the library with books on vampires.
The morning started like any other day, except you had awoken to the bright light pouring through the thin curtains to your room. You would find yourself waking in time to go down to the library before remembering to eat something, but you knew it was now or never to do what you had to do.
You didn’t know if Alucard was awake before you (his room was luckily two rooms down from you) and he warned you from the beginning to not disturb or come to his room. Odd as it was, you obeyed his one rule, hoping that you wouldn’t need aid before he was out in time for breakfast.
You gathered your curls into a bun, tying a ribbon through to keep it up as you grabbed the closest dress to your dresser. Alucard offered more dresses to you, and the more he did, the more you came to realise that these dresses he did not buy. You did feel guilt wearing his mother’s clothes, but he did not complain.
Slipping out of your room once dressed, you hurried through the endless, winding corridors, trying to remember your way back to the ground floor, and once you found that, you could find the kitchen.
You passed through the doors, entering the rather chilly room before you decided quickly to get to work. You knew you’d get scolded by Alucard for making a mess, but raiding the cupboards and shelves for spices and items made your workspace rather dirty very quickly.
Alucard cooked everything: from breakfast to dinner, he fed and fuelled your mind to keep reading into the many books, rather than be exhausted by the time breakfast had finished.
If he can cook, I can too. You had prepared meals for Bogdan and his family previously, but they had been picky with their meals, keeping to basic porridge and a slither of goat, ham or bacon if lucky.
You gathered eggs, dried meats, bread that had gone a day stale and a whole cupboard full of spices, setting up as you thought the best thing to make was everything there was. You tried to keep it quiet for some time, carefully recreating the meal you had eaten made by Alucard. It didn’t look perfect, but it could taste just as good if you tried.
You got influence from your mama to include different herbs, ones from spices in the southeast, others from across the entire globe, past Wallachia. It amazed you how much of the world there was to explore, rather than being stuck here, surrounded by vampires and demons.
Maybe I could go travelling. You thought, and the very idea brought a chill to run down you. Part of you thought it could be a thrill-seeking adventure to travel halfway across the world, whilst the other part of you warned that you were not suited to a sailor’s life.
Breakfast came hot and ready in the end, and whilst you prepped the plates with the food, you failed to hear the door creak open, a pale figure walk through, half dishevelled and unexpectantly looking to what you were doing.
“Oh,” you jumped back, holding two warmed plates in each hand, surprised to see him standing there so quickly. Perhaps the smells had brought him to come down earlier. You weren’t expecting him so soon. “Good morning. I hope you don’t mind I made myself useful in cooking us something?”
“Why is that?” Alucard rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his blond locks were frizzy and tousled, and you watched as he sat at the table, his plate being handed to him. “I did not know you could cook.”
“Well, I thought you cook so often for me, I’d cook something for you,” you shrugged, trying to act as nonchalantly as possible, but you knew your heart was racing. Racing for his validation? A compliment for your cooking?
Alucard nodded, scooping some of the egg onto a fork and taking a long chew at the stale bread, but he still gave a look that read he was considerate for your time. “It is most thoughtful of you. Thank you, Y/N.”
Your shoulders had been so tensed you realised, after relaxing them from awaiting for so long his verdict. He said your name, you realised, and you couldn’t help that feeling in your chest, swelling with an unknown emotion. As if you had been waiting all your life to hear it from someone again. You smiled nonetheless, taking a bite of your food and being overwhelmed by the spices you remembered your mama cooking into meals.
You spoke about your plans for the day, and how you were close to beginning your training, and it even seemed to pique some of Alucard’s interest. “I will stand by today,” he announced, gathering your plates when they were finished. “Just in case something happens.”
“I should be fine, really.” you didn’t want to pressure him into being with you if he had other things to do, and you certainly didn’t want to make him feel uneasy about your spells- or lack thereof.
“I insist,” he says, his voice a hue of melancholy, “when it comes to witchcraft, there is a chance something can misfire. I’m only making sure you don’t set the books on fire.”
You blush easily but find his joke to make you laugh. “Very funny. Even if I did try to burn it down, I would certainly not start in there. There are too many good things in there. It would be a waste of knowledge, turned to ash within the blink of an eye.”
Alucard hums in agreement, though he does not speak further on the matter, instead, only awaiting for you. “Shall we then?”
-
“I heard it is hard to put a Vampire into a trance?”
You concentrate, staring from the pages up to where the Dhampir stands, tracing a finger over the aged pages. The two of you have spent many hours going through abilities that would be of use to you, and though you try to conjure them through word, nothing comes of it.
“It is true,” he answers earnestly, “the stronger the mind, the harder is it to break- so to say.”
“Vampires have a mental block or something?”
“Some do, it makes it harder to read their minds, to know their auras or get information out from one.”
It gets you thinking, and your curiosity gets the better of you, and you’re asking him the question you’re dying to know. “What about half vampires?”
Alucard quirks an eyebrow, “Half vampires?”
“Yeah, does it work on you? You’re half vampire, half human, after all.”
“You want to give it a go?” There is something that flickers in his tone when he asks you that, one that plays into amusement, and it makes your heart flutter in a way that has you half-guessing yourself and stumbling over the right words. “I can tell you one thing, I’m quite hard to read.”
You’re already stepping up close to him, “I do quite like a challenge.” It’s only when you realise up close, how tall he is. You’ve never been this close up to him, and from here, you can see the smallest of subtly in his movements, the way his eyes flicker around the room quickly, as if always on high alert for trouble.
Alucard takes in your smug stance as he stares you down, a neutral expression falling over his, before he leans in ever so closely, his fangs poking out from his lips. “Boo.”
“Haha.” You rolled your eyes, knowing full well he was trying to make you lose concentration. It’s hard, not just to crack through to him, but to look at him this up close. He’s handsome, you admit it, and there’s that ethereal beauty to him that makes him look eerie compared to other humans.
You try to ignore it as you stare into his comely face, rather than concentrating on just his eyes and eyes alone. Were his eyes always this bright? A golden contrast, like golden leaves of autumn, or smooth honey. Eyes are the windows to the soul, right? So why did you find it intimidating to look through his gaze and look through him as a person?
It feels like the smallest of cracks to a mirror at first before you can even reach the first layer, and you’re met with a heavy, hard-hitting wall.
What on earth? You tug and pull within your mind, amazed at just how mentally strong Alucard is.
You can picture it as standing in front of a locked door, needing a key to pass through. You were so close, yet so far, and when you blinked out from your trance, Alucard chortles in what sounded like victory to winning. “Quite the challenge, isn’t it?”
“Just what exactly were you thinking of?” You tilt your head, “That witches have pointy hats, or fly on broomsticks?”
His laugh is airy and it fills you with hope that maybe, you will be able to crack at him one way or another. “You could say so.”
The two of you continued your readings, and you noticed that he was a bit closer to you, sharing a short space with you as the two of you looked at the same shelf. Though Alucard was always the gentleman and remained a lengthy distance away from you, he seemed at ease.
“This may be of interest to you,” Alucard pulled forth a book from the shelf, handing it over to you. You grabbed, accidentally reaching, your fingers touching. He was oddly warm for a half-vampire, not like a stone-cold, cold-blooded creature. “Maybe we could start here.”
“This could work,” you prop the book up as you go to the right page: the act of telekinesis. “Though, I don’t think I’ve used it before.”
“I’m here in support,” Alucard takes a cautionary step to the side, pointing to the stack of books in the middle of the room, some that had been read through. “Start with one of them.”
You looked between him and the pile, and a feeling of instant negativity washed over you. “I don’t know—”
“I believe in you.” Alucard praises you gently, and for a moment, you can’t concentrate on anything else but the way he supports you. You feel your cheeks flush, and you suddenly want to hear more of his approval.
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and shutting the world around you out. You’re in a dark room, with no air or light, just you focusing and holding out your arms. Concentrating on your breathing, you focused on nothing but what was in the room. When you finally opened your eyes, you spoke the word clearly. “Prodire.”
The stack didn’t move at first, and before you were to even complain to Alucard for your lack of power, you heard the sound of books flipping through to shut, and a lone, heavy-leather bound book lifted clumsily into the air, hanging a few inches off the air but floating.
Your excitement is loud when you gasp in amazement, looking to the Dhampir for approval, whose eyes are already on you, impressed. You look back to the floating book, motioning with your hand in a “come hither”, watching as the book – as if had been picked up by someone – slowly took in your words, approaching sluggishly.
Nice and steady, like water. You told yourself, focusing on bringing the book towards you. It was not even halfway towards its previous spot and when it stopped you sighed intensely, overwhelmed as your face burst into awkwardness.
“I didn’t think this would happen,” you offer an awkward laugh to ease the air, watching with a glance to Alucard, who didn’t seem so embarrassed by this little mishap. He was one to encourage you more. “You’ve got this,” he spoke, “pretend I’m not here if it helps put your mind at ease.”
That’s easier said than done. You thought, and you spoke again, “Prodire.”
Nothing came from the book as you sighed in defeat, your frustration rising with the way your tone did as well. Alucard was quick to try and step in. “I think you should—”
He didn’t get the rest of his sentence out when something surged forward towards you. Not just the one book that had been already floating, but the many others that had been still on the floor. They flew at you with such speed that you didn’t have time to react to even what was coming at you.
Bracing to be hit was your only way to react in time, but something grabbed you around the waist, pulling you backwards against a hard surface, before seconds later the sound of books colliding into the nearby shelf shattered your ears.
Your heart was racing, and it resonated against the surface your back was pushed against. You didn’t realise you were holding your breath, your adrenaline was slowly settling.
“Are you alright? The voice of Alucard was oddly close to your ear, and within seconds, you realised he was the one who pulled you out of the way from the flying books. You turned to look back at him, very much aware your body was burning from his touch, very aware of how close he was, the way he smelled so sweetly—
“Yes, I’m okay,” you managed to pull away, still feeling the warmth of his hands around your waist, trying to regain a level of composure. Your hands are sweaty and you’re wiping them across your dress urgently. “Thank you, Alucard.”
“What happened there?” He asked, and despite the softness in his dulcet voice, there was still concern in his words. “Your mind was elsewhere.”
“Yes, I think so. You were correct though,” you confirmed. “Magic can misfire.”
“It will come back to you with some time,” you watch the way Alucard’s throat bobs nervously, “I believe you can do so.”
His kind words are a shock to you, and you’re not so certain why he is so suddenly praising you constantly. Part of you thinks it’s out of kindness, whilst the other part of you tells you he just wants you to be out of his castle quicker, and in hopes you’d learn in time before your month ends.
I will learn, no matter how long it takes. You tell yourself, and you tell Alucard that perhaps you will stay in the library for a bit longer to improve.
Alucard does not seem exasperated at your choice, though you may mistaken the look of disappointment that floods his eyes. “Very well,” he drawls, and he’s slow to leave the library, leaving you to yourself.
Sighing heavily in defeat, you pull the books you had failed to bring towards you, pulling up the correct page as you went to try again.
