idea: Alucard (Hellsing) with a reader who has vocal anxiety? as much as reader wants to talk to them vocally, they just can't and it hurts.
ik he probably can just read their mind to speak to them, but... he's smart enough to know there's other ways to talk.
Uggghhh anon I’m sorry for the wait, but I fulfilled your request! What a great ask and I hope I did it some justice. My family and I have been getting into flowers and plants recently, so I thought I’d incorporate it into here. It’s not too long, but I thought it was a sweet little Alucard Drabble. See? He can be nice! 😅 (also keeping this short cause I already made a post about it but, I got a new job! It’s full time, and I’ve been busy and not wanting to write/I’ve been spending more time with loved ones. Again, I am sorry, but I hope you like it🩷)
You enjoy the tedious paperwork.
Keeping to yourself, not having to talk to anyone. It’s your little safe place.
It sounds silly. To call your job in the Hellsing manor of all things your ‘safe place,’ but it just so happens to be the one place where you can be yourself.
Everyone who works here has their own quirks. Hell, there’s a literal vampire who lives amongst you.
Sir Integra was intuitive enough to see that you aren’t fawned of talking. Your throat tightens, you jumble your words, it’s a lot to say more than two words at a time. She is kind through the tough exterior she exudes.
It’s late tonight. A full moon shining bright as you stand next to a printer in the library. Integra has an important meeting tomorrow and you want to make sure she has everything she needs. Talking might not be your strong suit, but you show your dedication and hard work through action.
“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”
You gasp at the sound of the voice. Smooth and tender, breaking the nice silence.
Turning around, you see Alucard standing by the window, looking at you, all tall and naturally menacing.
He’s been doing this more often, talking to you. You’re technically new, only have gotten this job a year ago, and it’s been two months since he’s periodically started to accompany you. It’s of course when you stay up later than usual.
You don’t…hate his company, you just feel uncomfortable. Not at him. For a scary vampire, he’s been nothing but a gentleman. Surprisingly kind. It’s you who makes you feel uncomfortable. Your inability to speak to him making you feel rude.
He starts to walk toward you, where you stand at the printer, “You’re up late this evening.”
You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Burdened by your own thoughts of inadequacy. You muster up a lousy nod, agreeing with both of his statements.
To give you the benefit of the doubt, he’s not exactly the best at conversation. His statements leave little room for you to speak. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
He makes a little noise resembling a laugh. You give him a reserved smile and go back to scanning and printing. As much as you would like to speak, you don’t. You can’t. What would you even say to a 500 year old vampire? If you spoke, he’d just realize you were boring. A being that has seen so much, experienced so much, has no business dealing with a person who’s highlight in their day is figuring out which stamps to use. Wouldn’t he be better off talking to someone who…speaks?
“Would you like to accompany me for a walk?”
His question stops you from descending into madness. You look back up at him in his typical uniform. His hair is down and long. So ethereal.
You’re so taken aback, that without thinking you nod your head again. Agreeing to a time spent overthinking about what to say.
His smile plays something wicked at the edges. Yet, eyes soft as he waits in the shadows for you to finish up your work. You shuffle papers a little frantically, becoming nervous at the thought of possibly having to speak.
Finally done, you turn around to see him already right behind you. Your breath catches when your face almost bangs into his chest. Or stomach? He’s so tall you don’t know where he ends or begins.
He laughs, “You startle easily. I won’t bite.”
He extends his elbow, waiting for you to intertwine your arm with his. You do so, feeling the coolness of his skin through his clothes.
Alucard walks slowly towards the gardens. Every step meticulous. For him, time doesn’t matter.
This is strange. To walk with a vampire through your work gardens. What compelled you to agree? Is that his power?
It’s gorgeous out. Spring in full blossom. The night is cool without being too cold. However, you shiver, due to the slight breeze and his cold arm.
“Cold, my dear?” Before you could even try to speak, a long, red jacket is placed over you. It’s not warm from body heat, but it helps.
“Thank you.” You mutter, smiling softly to yourself.
“She speaks!” He pats your head, ruffling your hair.
His fangs glisten as he smiles. You’d be scared, if it wasn’t for his gentleness.
A bench comes into view, displayed under a tall willow. The tree sways gently, almost calling you to sit under it and stay there forever. Alucard must have known what you were thinking and he led you to the bench.
It’s quiet for a moment. No surprise from yourself, but he just looks at you. Red eyes gleaming. You try to ask what’s wrong, but you just can’t. You fear the ‘thank you’ from earlier was all you could muster. Embarrassment and shame eat away at you.
You wish you could comment on how lovely the garden is. Primroses and daffodils litter the area in full bloom. You wish you could ask him what his favorite flower was, and be able to say yours in return.
You wish you were normal.
The feeling of something being placed on your ear stops those thoughts. Alucard tucks some hair behind your ear, adjusting the flower.
“Something I find fascinating with humans is their ability to assign meaning to things,” he moves some hair from the other side of your face, cupping yours in the process.
“Primroses, for example, mean new beginnings, the start of spring. Some even believe they invite faeries to bless and protect them,” a deep, yet amused chuckle escapes his lips. “If that were such a thing, I wouldn’t be able to gift you one, now would I?”
His voice is like velvet, smooth to your ears. You could listen to him speak all night.
You suddenly feel…comfortable.
Not as on edge. The more he speaks, the more you listen, your head begins to feel light. Free from the expectation of talking.
“Flowers, are one of the oldest ways of communicating. Each petal, each color, each leaf,” he places another primrose on top of the other, this time a different color. “They are ways of conveying one’s true feelings.”
