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zorostitties · 3 months ago

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Aurora; 6 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 7k

A/N: HELLO Y'ALL!!! I planned to post this chapter yesterday, but unfortunately I was too drunk to finish writing anything. The pre carnival parties got me 🙂‍↕️ That being said, this one wasn't proof read, so my apologies for any grammar mistakes. I love how past chapter made all of you theorize LMAOOOO as I replied in the comments, I'm sad that I can't really discuss anything with y'all (no spoilers!!) but I LOVED reading everything! I love how much attention y'all are paying to any details!! 🥹🥹

Anyways, enjoy <3

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

Olrox felt that horrible stench from the moment he stepped out of the ship.

At first, he thought it was just the usual human filth. Too many souls, too many plagues, too much blood soaking the lands of the Old World, too much history, too much evil. Olrox never liked visiting Europe, and not only because the travel was exhausting, even for a vampire. To him, that continent meant a mix of distastes. He’d only cross the ocean when he had no other choice.

Then, he stood face to face with Erzsebet Bathory – and the stench got even worse.

Not many things shocked Olrox anymore, but when he first met the so called “Vampire Messiah”, he couldn’t help but feel that way. She reeked. Her horrible smell already permeated the entirety of France. Olrox wondered how any of her servants managed to stand beside her without vomiting. Hell, even the normal humans of Machecoul should be feeling that at some point.

Of course – the world was not what it used to be. Not many people were able to feel the fragrances of magic anymore.

Olrox came from a time and a people that weren’t blinded by the teachings of the Christian Church. They knew that magic is very much real; they knew that it existed in every aspect of life, from the forests to the rivers to the seas, from the birth of a child to the death of an elder, from the blood that dripped when a girl became a woman to the blood that splashed in a holy sacrifice. This type of knowledge was being slowly forgotten, buried in the sands of time. Mankind had a short memory. With each generation, they became more and more unaware of the invisible forces around them – not only in the Old World, but in his home, too.

But Olrox didn’t have a short memory. Olrox never forgot any teaching.

And Olrox knew that that was the stench of blasphemy.

Erzsebet Bathory was no goddess. Of that, he was sure. But the type of magic she was feeding of… it was ancient, difficult to manage. Dangerous. From a time when gods still roamed Earth and still had the power to bless or punish. And it was quite ironic, in fact, that Drolta – who was not only Erzsebet’s most loyal servant, but also claimed to be Sekhmet’s priestess – would even dare to try that.

Olrox sincerely did not understand Drolta. She was even older than him; she was a powerful vampire and had deep knowledge in the occult. Why would she act so foolishly? Was she blinded by the love for her goddess, or was she blinded by her thirst for power?

This goddess she claimed to love – wherever she was, he wondered, could not be satisfied with any of that.

And yet… as days went by, as Olrox investigated Machecoul… he noticed another smell.

It was very well masked under Erzsebet’s stench. It was… timid, in a way. Very easy to go unnoticed. He felt it faintly in Mizrak. It became stronger in the night creatures. It was disgusting in the Abbot. And now, standing in the underground of his church, it was unbearable.

The stench of a demon.

Olrox stood in front of the necromancy machine the now deceased Abbot used to make night creatures with. Another irony in this great puzzle he was putting together – a funny irony this time. Did the people that come to pray to their God upstairs had any idea that a hell machine laid under their feet? Did they ever imagine that the man that used to hold their Holy Scriptures also held a book originated in the underworld?

He would’ve laughed at the entire situation if it didn’t affect Mizrak – and he wouldn’t have really cared if his inner voice didn’t warn him otherwise.

Olrox knew the entity was with him at that moment. Surrounding him, vibrating in a low frequency. The basement immediately got cold. The smell of coal and sulfur got stronger.

“I know who you are,” Olrox muttered, not caring to turn around. He could feel that thing grinning at him. “Old Man Coyote. Mephistopholes, or some other name.” His eyes wandered over the hell book he held. “I know what promises you make and how tempting they are. And I could make good use of a powerful patron.”

Olrox closed the book, finally looking over his shoulder. The entity was nothing but a shadow; blurry, dark, trying hard to somehow keep itself together in the same level of existence as him – and it would never achieve this in its totality without a vessel.

“But this doesn’t belong in this world,” he said, shaking the hell book slightly, “And nor do you.”

He threw the book inside the machine, where it burned immediately. The shadow retreated.

Olrox made his way out of the Abbey. The smell still followed him, though. It was mixed with the human filth, the blood, the plagues, the history, the evil. Mixed with Erzsebet’s stench. Hidden under it. And looking in retrospect, it was always there, from the moment Olrox stepped out of the ship.

It was very reflective of the situation slowly unfolding in front of his eyes. Erzsebet was noisy, boisterous, blinding, just like her stench. The other stench was quieter, moving silently like a snake ready to pounce on its prey. He wondered if she would notice the snake before it sank its fangs in her ankles. Probably not. She wasn’t as perceptive, or as intelligent, or as dangerous.

Yes, the type of blasphemous magic Drolta and Erzsebet were messing with was dangerous. But gods didn’t roam the Earth anymore. They couldn’t protect of punish the way they used to.

Demons did.

Demons could.

Olrox wondered what type of pact they made with this demon – and what was the price they would have to pay for their foolishness.

PAIN.

It was red and piercing and incessant and strong and nauseating and you felt your bones crashing and flesh being slashed and the pressure in your stomach and the taste of blood in your tongue and your vision went black and you couldn’t breathe and nothing else existed but pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN–––––

...

You knew pain. You knew it very well. You knew it better than anything else – better than yourself, better than your cloudy past.

You could deal with it. You could deal with it.

You would deal with it.

So you forced your brain to start working again. You forced your eyes to focus.

And they saw red. Blurry red. The night creature’s jaws tightly around your body. Its teeth sank deep into your clavicle, your chest, your stomach, and–

And–

And you couldn’t feel half of your right arm anymore.

You still weren’t hearing anything very well. If you could, you would’ve heard Annette gasping, desperately calling your name; then you would’ve heard her scream of anger, then you would’ve heard the sound of her blade slashing the night creature’s remaining head from its neck.

The pressure of the jaws was gone. The head fell on the ground.

It was like taking the cover off a leaking pipe.

The bleeding started.

Your brain was divided in two sections. The bigger section which occupied 90% of it was yelling PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN. The smaller section, barely 10% of it, was strangely focused and analytical. This little part always understood very well everything that was happening.

PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINmy lung was pierced. If I try to breathe, I will inhale bloodITHURTSITHURTSITHURTSITHURTSITHURTSdon’t breathe for now. There’s already blood in your throat. You’ll gag and it’ll only make things worstPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINprobably one or two ribs broken, too. I can’t move my right shoulder… so the collarbone was also piercedIT HURTS!! IT HURTS!! IT HURTS!! IT HURTS!!

MY RIGHT ARM! IT’S HANGING!!

You held your breath. You stumbled back. You heard Annette’s incoherent, desperate voice – oh, she will freak out if she sees me like this. So, with the little body control you still had, you pushed her away with your left arm and stumbled to the back of the gallery.

Don’t worry about this, it’s what you would’ve said if you could breathe, if there wasn’t blood clogging your throat. It’ll heal anyway. I’m more worried about you seeing me in this state.

How you didn’t trip was a miracle. You stumbled to the farthest place you could reach, leaning on the wall with your back facing Annette; you didn’t utter a sound. Don’t scream, don’t cry – these two rules were still engraved in your behavior.

So when you looked down and saw that your entire forearm was hanging from a little piece of skin and muscle, all you thought was oh shit.

The two bones of the forearm were visibly cracked, peeking out from a horrible gash in an exposed fracture. You didn’t feel anything from that point down to your hand, which meant that all the nerves were ripped off; it bled uncontrollably, which would become the even bigger problem – you always passed out very fast due to extreme blood loss. But you didn’t want anyone to see you in this state. You knew they didn’t have time to wait until your full recovery.

So, quite honestly, you were relieved that your forearm wasn’t completely ripped off; you were grateful that it was still hanging by that small piece of skin. Growing entire limbs back was not only slow, but disgusting and extremely painful. All you had to do was give your body a little push for it to understand what it needed to do.

With your left hand, you held your forearm and fit the bone back to its place – like two pieces of a puzzle.

Oh fuck it hurts. This time, you had to groan. As the wound was very much open, you could see exactly were the bones should connect; luckily enough, the little gash of flesh didn’t rip off, which would completely disconnect the forearm from the rest of your body. You still heard Annette behind you, but you couldn’t comprehend anything she was saying. You just kept your eyes glued to your arm.

It’s like your body didn’t know what to heal first. Too many wounds. And yet, for the second time that day, you were lucky: the healing decided to act on the arm first.

And oh FUCK how it hurt.

It hurt almost as much as having it injured; you closed your eyes tightly, feeling as the bones started to reconnect, the noise it made – it reverberated in your entire body. And then the nerves were starting to reconnect too like vines and when they did IT HURT HURT HURT HURT because you started to feel the rest of your forearm again, and your fingers had spasms, and then your muscles were also reconnecting and rebuilding, and then finally the wound was closing–

Blank.

You passed out.

When your eyes opened again, you were laid on the floor, staring at the ceiling – Annette and Richter’s tired and horrified faces hovering over you.

Much time mustn’t had passed. Well… that’s what happens when one holds their breath for so long. You turned your head to the side and coughed blood, but after spitting, you felt that you could breathe again – albeit slowly, like your air passage was as thin as a straw; it was a relief anyway. You groaned. The throat wasn’t damaged. Good.

They were saying something, though you weren’t listening. You tried to raise your right arm to no avail; oh, right. The collarbone. It still hadn’t healed. It radiated pain from that point to your fingertips. If there was pain, it meant that the arm was still in the process of healing, although the skin had already patched itself, closing the open wound.

And then your ears started to hear again.

“...too much blood,” Richter’s voice was hurried, borderline desperate. “She’s losing too much blood, we need to do something!”

“Mmm’ okay.”

They stopped their incessant talking and looked down at you.

And then, they gasped when you started to rise, using the strength of your left arm.

“No! Keep lying down!” Annette tried, but you just groaned in response.

You bit your tongue, holding a groan of pain as you managed to sit, both of them resting their hands on your back to support you. There was still pain everywhere – you didn’t even know where to focus first; the pain on your right arm that spread to the shoulder and shattered collarbone, the sharp pressure in your chest that felt like someone heavy was stepping over it, your stomach which was still bleeding as the skin hadn’t regenerated yet, the broken ribs that made each breath hurt, or the blood loss that brought the familiar dizziness and headache.

And still, you looked at Annette.

“Did you get hurt?” you managed to speak somehow.

Her eyes widened. She let out a soft gasp.

“How are you asking that when you’re like this?!” And then you saw it... the look of pure guilt. That’s not what you wanted to achieve with your action – not that you really thought about anything the moment you jumped in front of a night creature.

I don’t die, Annette, is what you wanted to say; you needed them to understand this once and for all – there was no need to worry, no need to feel guilty. This strange body of yours had gone through much worse. Everything would be back in place after a few hours.

You couldn’t say anything, though – because at the same moment, a shockwave of pure agony made your mind go blank.

You closed your eyes tightly. You bit your lower lip, swallowing the scream that wanted to escape. Don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t scream, don’t cry, you repeated in your mind like a mantra. This time, though, it wasn’t because you were scared of a worse punishment; you just didn’t want to shock these two. They weren’t innocent babies, of course – both were capable of killing, much stronger than you. But they were still young and seeing an ally in such state shouldn’t be easy.

Or maybe you were just putting yourself in highest regards than you actually were.

Still, you kept swallowing more screams and grunts of pain. Richter and Annette eyed you with worry, as you kept your eyes closed for more than a minute without uttering a sound or letting any reaction. You became quite good at the art of acting like you weren’t feeling anything.

After the shockwave dissipated – you knew it would come back; it was always like this with serious injuries – you moved your legs, making clear that you wanted to get up. The two of them hurried to help you to your feet without touching the right side of your body.

Oh… that’s a lot of blood, the conscious 10% of your brain noted. The deep blue gown was drenched in red now on your right side. The world twirled; don’t pass out, don’t pass out, don’t pass out, you repeated, as if it would make any difference.

When your sight focused again, you saw Alucard walking into the gallery.

And if you could speak at that moment, you would’ve asked, why are you soaked?

Yet you didn’t say anything because you watched how his expression changed in seconds. It went from shock – eyes widened, lips slightly parted, brows frowned – to straight up anger.

Once again, it scared you. You didn’t like to see him angry. The idea of Alucard being angry at you was terrifying.

In the blink of an eye he was standing in front of you, holding your left shoulder (oh, you never got used to a vampire’s ability of moving so fast). You flinched, and not because of his touch, but because you knew what anger like that usually followed…

But then – he snapped his head at Richter.

“This would not have happened, Richter Belmont, if you hadn’t told them where we were going!”

You flinched again. His voice genuinely sounded like a hiss. You’d never heard him speak like this before.

He was angry at… Richter?

You couldn’t turn your head anymore, couldn’t look at anything beyond eye level, which was just Alucard’s chest at the moment. Darkness came and went; your hearing worked as if it was underwater – muffled voices, they came and went too.

“She got hurt because of me,” Annette intervened, her tone defensive, guilty and angry, all at the same time. “And it wouldn’t take a sorcerer to predict we’d come to Paris, Alucard. We also thought Drolta was dead. We though you’d killed her.”

PAIN.

It was sharp as if a spear had just pierced your stomach. You closed your eyes again. Don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t scream, don’t cry… Your ears were still hearing, although you weren’t paying attention to anything anymore. Something something something prepare the city. Something something National Convention. Something something something nests of vampires. Why couldn’t they shut the fuck up for a second?

The world twirled – but this time it was quite literal; Alucard took you in his arms bridal style, having the care to not touch the right side of your body. The ceiling came and went out of focus. You wanted to vomit. Don’t pass out, don’t scream, don’t cry…

He was walking away. If you could speak, you would’ve asked, where are you taking me? You have to destroy Sekhmet’s mummy, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you hurry?

“Why aren’t we coming with you?” Richter asked – or you thought he asked that.

Alucard stopped for a second. “I’ve told you what I need you to do. Do I have to say it again?”

If you could speak, you would’ve said something along the lines of why are you being so mean to him?

But you couldn’t speak, nor could you think. The conscious part of your brain shrunk to barely 5% at the moment another shockwave of agony hit your body – focused on your chest now; it was difficult to breath, you felt the ferrous taste of blood in your tongue. Don’t pass out, don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t pass out, don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t pass out, don’t scream, don’t cry; don’t pass out, don’t scream, don’t cry…

You completely lost notion of time and space (did you black out briefly? Heavens, you hoped not…). When the wave of pain dissipated, you realized that you were no longer in his arms. You were… laying. Over a soft surface.

Your eyes focused again. A wooden ceiling, a window to your right. A… room? Were you laying on a bed? How did you get here?

You tried to sit, only to feel a hand touch your left shoulder.

“Shhh,” Alucard shushed. Oh, he’s still here, sitting on the bed too. “Don’t move.”

“No,” you muttered, or something that sounded like that. “We… ugh… we need to go.”

“You’re in no condition to do anything right now, Ruby.” The anger had disappeared completely. Worry was the only emotion you heard in his soft voice. You groaned again, insisting in sitting up. Alucard left a tsk past his lips, and you thought you heard him whisper “what are you doing, woman?” though you couldn’t be sure about this last part.

Still, he helped you change into a sitting position with your legs hanging from the bed, his hand supporting your back. Yes, this was a small room; simple, a small desk and a chair being the only furniture other than the bed. You wanted to ask where the hell were you, but you mustered your forces to ask what actually mattered at the moment.

“The… mummy…?”

The sight of Alucard was blurry. Still, you saw his eyes drop. He sighed.

“Drolta took it.”

Your heart dropped, too.

If Drolta retrieved the second half of Sekhmet’s mummy… that could mean they wouldn’t need you to summon an eclipse anymore. Which meant you weren’t their upper hand; you were just a useless injured person. Alucard should be preparing to fight, not sitting beside you as you bled–

PAIN.

This time, you couldn’t hold the grunt of pain back; you tightened your eyes, shrunk your shoulders, bent over slightly.

“What is it?” Alucard asked worriedly. “Where does it hurt?”

Fucking everywhere!, is what you wanted to answer.

Cuts, skin or muscle pierced… this type of injury was “easy” to heal, “easy” to handle. But that night creature made much more damage beyond what the eye could see. Your insides were hurt – and the healing of this type of injury was much more violent. You could feel your organs moving, expanding, regrowing, patching; bones reattaching, sending waves of excruciating pain through your entire skeleton. The bleeding must’ve stopped at that point, no more wound was visible on your skin, but that didn’t ease any of the pain at all.

“Mmmmh,” you probably were trying to say something coherent, but nothing came.

“It’s okay,” Alucard shushed softly again. “Don’t hold yourself back.”

His voice wasn’t coming from beside you anymore. You opened your eyes briefly to see that now, he was down on one knee right in front of you. Alucard held your hand (the good one) softly.

“Squeeze my hand if you need it. Just don’t hold yourself back.”

Don’t scream, don’t cry, was the instinct engraved in your very being. And yet, Alucard was asking you to do the exact opposite.

You couldn’t. Not really. You were too good at holding yourself back at this point. However, when another wave of pain came, you squeezed his hand out of instinct, squeezed it tight – and that was the signal Alucard needed. You didn’t open your eyes (even if you weren’t in pain, to look at him so closely would be probably torture). You didn’t see his expression when, with his free hand, he softly touched the back of your head and made you rest your face on his shoulder.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. His lips were so close to your ear; his deep voice reverberated in your body.

Ninety percent of your brain was yelling in sharp pain. The ten percent that weren’t focused on the way he caressed your hair softly; then, he was caressing your back. Your body trembled, your jaw so tightened that it almost felt that your teeth were going to crash; jolts of pure agony made you want to scream. Your hand squeezed his incessantly to a point you didn’t even realize you were doing it anymore.

Alucard didn’t complain about anything. He stayed there, holding you with care. That 10% part of your brain felt the sweet scent on the crook of his neck, his hand softly caressing your back, the warmth radiating from his body, his voice saying It’s okay and I’m so sorry every time a grunt of pain escaped.

He stayed there until the pain eased. He stayed there until your mind finally gave in and you passed out, embraced by darkness.

“Do you regret it?”

You frown at ???’s sudden question.

“What?” Did you even hear her correctly? The music is a bit too loud.

“Do you regret it? To have chosen this path?”

You look ahead again. Oh... now you understand her question. You can’t blame her for thinking that anyway. You know it’s not easy for most people to understand.

Sun bathes the patio. The air smells of wine, flowers and good food. Most of the guests occupy the center, dancing and talking. Kids run in between them. ??? proudly shows off a beetle to his friends.

“Of course not,” you say with such certainty that no one would dare to question you. “I am much proud of the choices I made.”

And yet, only you know the slight sting in your heart – the tiny loneliness that refused to go away.

The wooden ceiling again.

You stared at it for a long time. The window beside you was opened now. A soft refreshing breeze kissed your skin, just as the afternoon sun rays.

Your body tingled. You stretched the fingers of your right hand. They tingled, too; the push of the muscles on your wrist was a tiny bit painful, but nothing compared to the excruciating agony you felt a while ago.

Then, you moved your right shoulder. Up, down; with your left hand, you touched the collarbone. It… felt normal. You looked down at your body and – hell, that dress was in pieces, damp with your own blood. You were lucky that the corset wasn’t completely ripped, otherwise your chest and torso would be exposed.

You touched the parts where the fabric was teared. The skin… normal. No more pain. No more cramps in your stomach or chest.

Only then did you sigh in relief.

You saw movement with the corner of your eye – and when you turned your head to see Alucard, you completely forgot about the weird dream you just had.

He was sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the bed. But, as he heard your sigh, he turned to look at you.

He was close.

Very close.

His white hair was visibly damp. His expression didn’t show much sign of anything as he analyzed your features.

“I didn’t expect you’d wake up so soon,” he said quietly.

And then – you remembered everything.

You gasped, wanting to sit in a jump, but the world twirled and you fell back. Alucard stood up and sat on the edge of the bed, ready to catch you if needed.

“Don’t move so abruptly. You’re still weak.”

“I’m fine...” you didn’t expect that to sound like a whine. Your tongue still tasted like blood.

Alucard sighed. “Stubborn little one, aren’t you?”

You didn’t expect him to call you that – and it immediately made heat creep to your cheeks. This heat was getting too familiar at this point. Nevertheless, he helped you to sit, placing his hand on your back. You held his arm for support.

Alucard wasn’t wearing his cape, his belt, gloves and his coat anymore; the pieces of clothing were hanging from the window. You felt that the sleeve of his white blouse was damp, and that should be the case with the rest of his clothes, too – the black vest, his pants. And then… you noticed he wasn’t wearing his cravat as well, and that the three first buttons of his blouse were opened, exposing just a peek of his collarbones and his chest–

And you had to look away for the sake of your own sanity.

“How long did I sleep?” You asked in a husky voice.

“Not much. An hour and a half, I believe.” This was a relief. At least, he hadn’t wasted much time on you. “Your healing is very fast, indeed. Maybe faster than you’d realized.”

Well… the passage of time was a difficult topic for you anyway, so you never really paid mind to how long it took until you were fully recovered.

“What are you going to do now?” You asked, already feeling apprehension bubble within you. “If Drolta retrieved Sekhmet’s mummy… she won’t need me anymore.”

Alucard tightened his lips and looked down. “We must help the city prepare to fight. It’s the only thing we can do right now.”

You nodded slowly, also dropping your eyes. This was the worst case scenario. The Erzsebet you knew was powerful in her own right… an Erzsebet with the entirety of Sekhmet’s power would be hell on Earth. Add that to her legion of powerful vampires – Paris wouldn’t stand a chance, and soon, the entire continent would succumb.

You couldn’t help but think this somehow was also your fault.

You were still holding Alucard’s forearm for support, and he was holding yours, too. His grip was soft, yet firm. It was the first time you were seeing his hand without the gloves. Differently from other vampires, his nails weren’t long and sharp. His fingers were slender; the skin of his palm was surprisingly smooth, given he was a swordsman. And his touch… was much warmer than you were expecting. Vampires are usually unnervingly cold to the touch. Alucard was as warm as a normal human.

“Ruby.”

The way he called your name – so quiet, his voice so small… you’d never heard that tone coming from him. It felt deeply intimate in a way, and you couldn’t explain why. It immediately made you look at him again.

His golden eyes were clouded with guilt.

“I’m sorry.” The breeze coming from the window made yours and his hair sway. You silently blamed it for the goosebumps you felt, and not his voice or his touch or his proximity to you. It looked like Alucard was struggling to find his words – again, a first. “I truly am. I… had no idea that Drolta was alive. I was sure to have finished her back then.”

The mere mention of her name made fear crawl over your skin. “...If we can still call that Drolta, that is,” your voice was merely a whisper, as if saying her name out loud would attract her. “What happened to her?”

Alucard frowned. “It appears she was turned to a night creature, though I fail to understand how she managed to keep her soul. I didn’t know this was possible. I should’ve considered Maria’s father would be a bigger problem to us.” That last sentence was more directed at himself than to you. Maria…? Oh, right. The girl in pink you saw briefly at the ruins in Machecoul. What did her father had to do with anything?

He closed his eyes for a moment, his shoulders dropping a bit. “...Actually, I should’ve considered a couple more things before involving you in all this.” And then, he was looking at you again, and you felt that you couldn’t breathe. His gaze was tender and overwhelming at the same time. It’s like he could blur the world outside with his mere presence. “I put you in more danger than I should have. I’m sorry for not taking good care of you.”

Your chest tightened.

Taking care of you, he said; not supervising, not under my responsibility. He said taking care. And once more, it felt intimate. Perhaps you were seeing too much again, wanting to be more important than you were… and yet, you couldn’t help but feel warmth involve you as his words sank in, as if they were a soft blanket in a cold night.

Even if you were seeing too much, you decided to hold onto his words, to keep them as a cherished little secret.

But things didn’t go exactly like that – and you needed to make it clear.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“You don’t need to try to comfort for me, Ruby…”

“No, listen to me.” Alucard was caught off guard by your abrupt interruption. “The night creature was going to bite Annette. Those injuries – they were going to happen to her. So I took them instead. She wouldn’t have survived that.”

He seemed speechless for some moments. Then, he quirked one eyebrow up only slightly. “...Wasn’t it a bit extreme?”

Maybe it was his tone that showed how weird he thought you were, but for the first time that day, you managed to chuckle, covering your mouth with your hand. Your reaction surprised Alucard a bit.

You tilted your head to the side. “I was trying to be useful,” you confessed in a tiny voice. “Not dying is the only thing I’m good at, apparently. So I decided to use it to someone else’s advantage.”

Alucard sighed. “Don’t have such little care for yourself. Just because you heal, doesn’t mean you should put yourself through all this willingly.”

That sounded like a reprimand, although he wasn’t being harsh. It made you hesitate. “But… Annette was going to die.”

“I understood that,” he nodded. “And I’m sure she’s grateful to you beyond words. Just try to be more careful from now on.”

It was your turn to nod. You knew he meant you no harm.

Maybe you were still a bit groggy from sleep, or maybe it was the proximity to him and the touch of his hand, or the fact that he appeared a little more open to conversation at that moment that made you feel a little brave – braver than you’d usually be.

You inhaled before talking.

“And I think–“ oh shit, this is a terrible idea. But you’ve already started, so go all the way! “I t-think you were a little too harsh with Richter back there.”

Alucard froze.

That’s it. He’ll hate me from now on. Our little moment will be over, and he’ll just be aloof with me forever.

“So you were conscious.” Was all he muttered. He seemed… hesitant. His eyes tightened a bit. “Is that so?”

You gulped and avoided his gaze.

“I understand that what he did was foolish. But I was there at the moment–“

“Is that so?” His voice almost made you throw yourself out the window – he wasn’t loud and he didn’t sound exactly upset… no, he was teasing you. That was another first.

“...and I know he didn’t do it with bad intentions at all.” You tried to conclude, feeling your cheeks burn. “Richter is… he’s too young, you see? A-And–“ You had to gulp again. “And he admires you a lot. Maybe more than you realize. I think… I think he wouldn’t want to let you down.”

Alucard sighed.

He crossed his arms over his chest, letting go of his grip on your forearm for the first time. And then, you saw it again, that glimpse from the forest: something juvenile about him that he kept very well hidden or very well controlled, at least.

Alucard was almost pouting, in fact.

“I know all that.” He nodded. “But I’ve been searching for Sekhmet’s mummy for the past five years, you see. And the entire mission got compromised because a boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that.

“Oh.” Was all you muttered, feeling a little silly. It was Alucard’s turn to chuckle.

“I understand your point.” He looked up at the ceiling, his eyebrows turned slightly upwards in something that looked like a tired expression. “I guess I’m not used to being around young people anymore. I might’ve… forgotten how they mess up constantly.” For his next sentence, Alucard spoke inwards, almost through gritted teeth: “Well, I guess acting like that grants you two women defending you all the time, so it must be worth it…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head softly. It looked like he wanted to smile, but you weren’t sure. He analyzed you for a moment, then sighed. “I know that ideally, you should rest for the rest of the day, but we’re in a critical situation right now. I must speak to the Revolutionary Commune and the National Convention to warn them about the incoming attack… and you must come with me.”

You nodded. It’s not like you were planning on sleeping anyway; you’d already brought them enough trouble in a single day. Alucard got up from the bed and retrieved his belt, coat and sword, which was leaning on the wall.

“This inn serves food, so I suppose you should eat something before we leave, at least.” He explained as he put the coat on. Oh… so you were in an inn. Right. “And I got you new clothes. There’s a basin with water, too, so get changed.”

Indeed, there was a change of clothes neatly folded over the small desk, which surprised you a bit. When and how did he get you that?

However, as Alucard was starting to step away, another memory from earlier that day hit you like a boulder; you gasped and held his wrist.

“Wait.”

The white-haired vampire looked down at your hands around his wrist, then at your shocked expression and frowned.

“What is it?” He immediately sat down again, his full attention over you.

A strange anxiety made your heartbeat increase. How could you have forgotten about that?

“I know we don’t have time to waste on distractions,” you started in a hesitant, yet rushed tone. “But I must go to the Louvre again.”

His frown deepened. “Why?”

“I found something there.” You looked up at him with round eyes – a mix of amazement and fear, perhaps. “When I was trying to hide from the night creature. I found this… thing inside one of the boxes. And it reacted to my touch.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. But it was… it was magic. I think it’s a scepter, though I’m not sure. And there’s writings on the same language from the book. Remember that book I talked about? The book they made me read to summon the eclipses?”

Alucard nodded. He held his chin, pensive.

“It’s not a surprise that there’d be magical items there. Many antiques carry magic. Museums are full of these things, though I doubt the curators are aware of any of it.” He hesitantly looked up at you. “It… might not mean much.”

“But it might mean much.” Out of instinct, you gripped the fabric of the skirt nervously and looked down. “I’m sorry for asking you this. I don’t want to slow you down. B-But I feel that’s important. I… haven’t remembered anything important up until now…”

Except the memory of you father, you thought, but I won’t talk about that with you yet.

The seconds he took to speak again felt like torture. Finally, he sighed.

He rested his hand over your nervous ones. You froze.

“I guess I should find us a horse, then.” Alucard didn’t sound upset at your request. “Luckily, the Louvre isn’t far from here.”

You looked up at him. At that moment, the smile was impossible to hold back.

“Thank you.”

Alucard smiled back – one of his tranquil tiny smiles, his eyebrows slightly curved upwards.

It probably didn’t last more than three seconds, but in your head, that little moment extended for much longer. It was enough to make your stomach feel funny, and this time it had nothing to do with the pain you endured mere hours ago. The warmth radiating from his hand over yours seemed to spread through your whole body. Was it inappropriate to admit that you liked it? Should you be ashamed of yourself? Did Alucard felt the same way, even if it was just a fraction of the feeling?

...the ambrosial smell, the honeyed taste…

Alucard closed his eyes for a moment.

“Let’s hurry.” He got up again. “Can you stand up on your own?”

A part of you wanted to say no just so you could have an excuse to hold his hand again, but you were far too embarrassed to even try something so sly. You got up and grabbed the change of clothes. It smelled of soap.

Alucard was already holding the doorknob when you remembered another very important thing – and it immediately made your cheeks feel burning hot.

The type of gown you wore wasn’t made to be easy to dress or undress on your own.

“Hm, Alucard…” you called, which made him stop and look at you. “Could you… help…?”

You sheepishly pointed to your back with your thumb.

You weren’t brave enough to look at him.

The fact that Alucard hesitated a second to answer made you want to run away.

“Oh. Of course.” His voice didn’t show any surprise. The white-haired vampire let go of the doorknob and approached. You turned around, holding the change of clothes close to your chest, your back as stiff as a board.

The fact that you couldn’t see him didn’t make the situation easier. You could feel his presence right behind you, standing so close; when his fingers touched the lace of the corset, you instinctively held your breath. His fingers were agile and precise, his touch was feather light.

That felt awkwardly intimate.

Maids always dressed and undressed you. They didn’t really care about being delicate whenever they touched your body. They despised you, and you despised them, so these acts never felt intimate. At that moment, however…

Don’t think too much about it, you scolded yourself. It’s nothing special.

You’d like to tell that to your bubbling stomach.

Once again, you probably had a really distorted notion of time, because although Alucard was being fast, it felt like it took him ages. He untied the lace up until a point where you could finish it yourself.

“Done.” He announced in a quiet voice.

You managed to mutter a strangled thank you before you heard his steps and the sound of the door closing behind you.

Only then did you breathe again.

You got rid of the destroyed gown as fast as you could. There was a cloth inside the water basin, which you used to clean the dried blood from your body the best way you could. As impolite as it was, you had to spit out the window, trying to get rid of the horrible ferrous taste that still lingered in your tongue.

The clothes Alucard gave you were more similar to what you saw other women wear on the streets: a long sleeved white blouse, a skirt at mid-calf height and a sleeveless vest that shared the same moss green tone. Your closet consisted on either beautiful ball gowns or simple nightgowns, so to be able to wear something so light and so easy to dress by yourself was a relief.

There was a small mirror hanging on the wall. When you saw your reflection, you immediately wet your hands and passed them through your hair, trying to lower the wild strands, and decided to tie it in a tight bun.

That’s when you saw the last piece of clothing you hadn’t noticed before.

It was a ribbon tie.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, your fingers working on tying it, you… noticed something.

The dress was simpler than what you were used to wear, yes – it wasn’t something for a special occasion, after all. But… the chiffon collar was quite pretty. The vest and the skirt were well sewn, too, and fit your body perfectly. The cufflinks of the blouse were golden. And the bow tie… its color complimented your eyes.

It didn’t exactly seem like it was an outfit chosen in a hurry. It looked like… some thought was put into it.

Your cheeks felt hot for some reason.

Don’t think too much about it, you repeated. It’s nothing special.

At last, you opened the door. You were surprised to see Alucard leaning with his back on the wall beside it, his arms crossed.

His eyes wandered on your entire figure, though his expression didn’t change.

You held his cape and gloves nervously and cleaned your throat.

“I believe they’re dry enough now.” Alucard nodded and took them. While he put his cape over his shoulders, you hesitated before finally voicing the question: “May I ask how did you get wet?”

“I fell in the Seine.” He replied in a deadpan tone, his eyes glued on his hands as he put the gloves on.

“Oh.”

Finally, he lifted his gaze to you again.

He stepped closer.

For a moment, it seemed that he wanted to say something, which made you look up at him in expectation. He was… expressionless. Maybe. But there was something you couldn’t decipher in his eyes. Something you weren’t brave enough to ask. Something that appeared… inviting, somehow.

Don’t think too much about it. It’s nothing special.

Alucard’s eyes dropped to your collar.

You held your breath when he touched the ribbon tie delicately. Did he nod in an almost imperceptible motion or were you imagining things?

“Let’s go.” He said in the same nonchalant tone as always before walking towards the stairs at the end of the corridor.

You were frozen in place for a few seconds.

Don’t think too much about it. It’s nothing special.

Yes, right. Ninety percent of your brain agreed on this. You were under his responsibility, after all. Alucard wasn’t especially rude towards anyone, as far as you knew (well, except for Richter sometimes). That’s how he acted with everyone. And besides that, you had much more important matters at hand. There wasn’t time to be distracted.

Yes, right. You walked towards the stairs in a hurry to match his pace. Don’t think too much about it. It’s nothing special.

Right.

And yet – the tiny ten percent of your brain kept stubbornly whispering in the back of your consciousness:

Was it not, really?

#alucard x reader #castlevania #alucard #castlevania alucard #castlevania nocturne #adrian tepes #adrian fahrenheit tepes #alucard tepes #alucard x you #castlevania x reader #alucard adrian tepes

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redfoxwritesstuff · 3 months ago

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A Misdemeanor Masterlist: A place for all things MisD

Rated Adult for adult themes, triggering content and sexual content. Potentially DD:DNE, mind the warnings

Series Trigger Warnings: Adultery, stalking, Sexual assault, Rape, smut, Domestic Violence, Time period accurate views on women and domestic violence and skin color, murder

Summary: Fading away in an abusive marriage, each day passes just the same as the last. Painful monotony eats at you until a pair of warm brown eyes sparks the idea that you could have something more. When a business deal between men sparks a torrid affair, how long can you keep things going before the fire either leaves you a burnt out shell or burns up everything around you?

And what becomes of the radio host who thought he was above the fickle fires of the heart when the match he strikes burns his hand instead? Can he possess what rightfully belongs to another man without leaving everything he has fought for in ashes?

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59. 60, 61, 62, 63

(Drafting is complete)

Audio Chapters

by Nyx Productions:

Chapter 1: part 1 part 2 Chapter 2: Part 1 part 2 part 3 chapter 3: Part 1 part 2 part 3 Chapter 4: Part 1 Part 2 Chapter 5: Part 1, Part 2 Chapter 6: Part 1, Part 2

Why Is MisD Reader Coded...

white? A supplemental reading explaining the historical context, why the deliberate choice was made to code the Reader as a white woman for the sake of plot points, and why I personally would find it disrespectful to have not done so.

Before The Crime:

The adventures of Alastor prior to meeting MisDReader. These are reader inserts that take place with someone other than MisD reader

To the Beat of the Music

CW: Smut, sexual harassment, 3rd person, pussy slapping. semi public sex, smut, creampie. It's fucking.

Summary:

When a flapper won't take the hint that Alastor isn't interested in her, he has no choice but to shut her up and make a point. Sometimes, punishment can be pleasure.

In The Rafters

Summary:New to town, a handsome young man caught your eyes. After working up the bravery to introduce yourself to him, you find yourself in a rather precarious position as he gives you a reason to keep his secrets.

CW: It's smutmas, there's smut. P in V smut, semi public smut, questionable consent due to naivety of the reader, virgin reader, church sex

After The Crime:

Post MisD one shots. Happily Ever After?

Coming soon

MisD AU: It's MisD if we stop and ask, what if...

CW: Angst, soft smut, dying family member

Summary: Alastor is faced with the horrible reality of his mother's ailing health. When this looks like it could be their last christmas together, he tries to will the truth to be different with his wife tries to make as many memories as possible. Tis the season for pie, decorating a tree, exchanging gifts and spending time with family. mile everyone, It's Christmas!

Chapter 1

Break From Routine

Summary: After a few years of marriage, your husband's musical abilities never failed to make your heart warm. You wanted your husband as much now as you did the day you met him. That desire drove you to be rather forward in your attempts to earn your husband's attention, even if it broke routine.

CW:Um... some time period appropriate lack of comfort with sexy fun times. And Smut- but it's smutmas, that's a given.

MisD Sidepieces:

One shots or fics that take place in a MisD AU or are MisD canon but written by another.

Inappropriate Demeanor

@nyx-umbrakinesis

(Canon placement, end of chapter 22)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 canon placement between chapter 24 and 25)

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alllgator-blood · 5 months ago

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Disappeared for a bit but I'm still here, I just got overwhelmed and learned I should probably take this blog less seriously

I'm using the new year as an excuse to come back on here and try to not ditch my account for another 6 months-- I'm NOT good at posting stuff online to a crowd of more than like 5-20 followers, I originally wrote a huge long-winded draft describing all of my thoughts in great detail. It was too long. I guess all I want people to know is I'm somebody who's spent years making art that I knew nobody will ever see, so it's incredible and overwhelming to have thousands of eyes on my art all of a sudden? It's both the coolest thing and the scariest thing ever to me simultaneously, I'm by no means a Popular Artist but I went from virtually no interaction for years to suddenly tens of thousands of cumulative notes on my posts so it's huge for me. And I haven't adjusted super well to it, entirely due to my own shitty brain chemistry.

I don't want anyone to feel like I'm ignoring their messages or like I don't appreciate the fact they go out of their way to give me their thoughts/send me ideas, genuinely this is the most support I've *ever* had for my art and it's so so fucking cool. It's led me to create so much more than I thought possible! I used to run ask blogs for a couple very niche video game fandoms, and I prided myself on being able to draw full comics for EVERY ask I got, answer EVERY message and went into this blog assuming I could still do that. Um....safe to say I cannot....I have like 200+ asks and I think I drafted a dozen or more that I answered but felt my art was too low effort. I felt so bad I couldn't put maximum effort into everything, and I've been beating myself up over it to a point where *no* asks are getting answered, and this blog went from a really fun thing I actually woke up early just to check on, to something I wanted to avoid like the plague for the past week out of guilt. DUE TO NOBODY'S FAULT BUT MY OWN, everyone has been so chill when I've had to take breaks so idk why I feel the need to hold myself hostage.

So I'm gonna try and take it easier, give myself a break when my personal life goes horribly, close my ask box periodically if I feel overwhelmed, maybe hop on here like once or twice a day rather than compulsively refreshing every 5 minutes...I hope that makes things better. I realize I should probably just *do* that without announcing it, but I have no self discipline and unless I announce I'm gonna do something, it's not gonna fuckin happen lmao.

Anyway if you read this far, here's the first panel of a sequel comic I made to the christmas one I posted last time I was on here, this one is *very* representative of my mindset the last week and will hopefully not reflect how I feel now that I survived december. I know for a fact there's mentions I haven't gotten to check yet so I'm gonna do that after laying down for a bit, here's to a chill 2025 where my social anxiety doesn't eat me alive

#river rambles #vent post #I'm hoping this'll be the last one of these I ever make lmao #I PROMISE I'M NOT TRYING TO SEEK PITY I JUST FEEL THE NEED TO EXPLAIN EVERYTHING I DO

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art-from-within · 1 year ago

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ER hc: Demigods in Love

(TW its long. Long.)

If they had a big fat crush on you and fell in love with you, they wouldn't say it outright at first but there would be signs

Morgott:

He becomes more catty-chatty. He usually cloaks his feelings of extreme self loathing(leading him to believe he deserves nothing and distance himself from things that bring joy, fear of rejection etc) with a rain of sour quips and old age scoldings, a technique he would definitely utilize all the same(and fail horribly) to suppress new trifling emotions arising within him, feelings he dare not indulge in for his own sake and everyone else's.

But despite his harsh words and taunts, the fact is not missed on you, that he is there. He is there, and for all his talk of finding you so lowly, he bothers to address you and your 'meager flame'

"I see thee little tarnished," he will say "smould'ring with that wretched flame of ambition" he will repeat this often, but the emphasis on 'little' changes with time. It is those little things, those minute slip ups, that itches a part of your brain.

Malenia:

She becomes more stiff around you. She is already taciturn enough, but around you she becomes stiffer than every statue in haligtree combined. But in those rare moments when she does address you, her voice becomes more softer than usual. Sometimes you catch her head nodding towards you gently. Other times you find her standing guard outside your door, though she will refuse to admit it was nothing else but that. Keeping you safe is her love language.

She will also make sure to always have the most fresh med needles stuck in her before she ever steps foot into your vicinity. Anything to make sure you don't get even the slightest WHIFF of her rot...poor valkyrie. She really tries.

Mohg:

He becomes more...clingy. And by clingy I meant he stalks you (a mogh classic).

He isn't audaciously obvious with it, no he is never obvious with anything. But as I said, there are signs. Bushes and trees seem to rustle more than usual. Warm beverages left on your table with no owner in sight, roses blooming during the wrong seasons and WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT??? Somebody who is TOTALLY NOT MOHG just healed your student rune debts?? Ahh! Good heavens!!! Who could have done this??? Definitely not the rich demigod omen who lives 2 broken buildings away that seemingly always knows when you need a heat pad hmmmm

Despite all this though, it seems this amount of clinginess is inversely proportional to the lines of dialogue he will spare you i.e. the harder he falls for you, the more he stalks and the less he talks (tldr of another hc post, that welcome guest speech of his is totally scripted and he can’t function outside said script). His confidence leaves him when he sees someone he cannot risk losing. He also love bombs you, with all intentions meant. Anything material, you have it. Its almost like he can read your mind (he is in your bloodstream).

He functions on the mindset that nothing in this world is selfless, and that love can only be bought and not earned. He 'bought' the love of his sanguine nobles through promise of power...he straight up kidnaps his 'doctors', who now love him(they are all mad with bloodlust). The albinaurics are there (for miquella). He is truly convinced that he cannot be loved without reason, so he does all this extra crap to cook up said reasons. Local omen has yet to discover consent out of the shunning grounds. Maybe u can change him 👍or make him worse.

Godwyn:

He gives you golden privileges….Godwyn wouldn’t outright confess his love for you on first sight, but I imagine he would be the SECOND (Rykard being first) most forthright man in this sea of bashful tsundere personages. Aside from his flirtiness increasing by 10 folds, He will let you ride Fortisaxx. Must I even elaborate further? There are noble men in Leyndell who would sell their cock and balls for that opportunity, but he straight up goes “hey you wanna ride my dragon” wink. Fortisaxx is best wingman, drops hints to help his brother/friend/(lover?😏) out. Considering he has a whole lineage, and i really doubt the omen twins received any action in the lore, he is the most experienced when it comes to love, and he has learned the best way to deal with it is just be chill.

Bonus points if you catch him drunk, the comedy you would play witness to would be legendary.

Godrick:

He will let you touch him. …

Pre grafted Godrick:

would be a total tsundere straight up. He has 0 confidence in himself, and his old and wrinkly ass has only known rejection by that point to not have any qualms about confessing. Throw in an odd sense of aristocratic pride into the mix and you have got a noble who looks and acts like he is competing his way into a guillotine. He is quite rude, and if he is got a single talent up his sleeve, it is without a doubt his ability to drive anyone into a frenzy(no three fingers needed) with his snarky quips alone. He is physically not up there, but by words alone he could burn bridges (and he has). Perhaps he gets this talent from his great great great great great great great great great grand uncle who, rumors say, also rules over Leyndell! He is a small crooked paranoid little freekle frackle that clings onto what we would call Ancien régime mindset and lifestyle

Given this context, the first sign that something is awry is that he lets you be near his viscinty. He is still snarky, with all the thou-s and thee-s sprinkled in. But he lets you near him. Hmm that’s odd. You thought Ettiquette 6600038 stated no non royal was allowed to walk beside him-OH and he is staring right into your soul. Thats also weird. You thought he hated the commonfolk? Did he just hold your hand? Granted he was terrified by the lightening, but still…hm… and he just tried cooking for the first time?? Ended terribly he burnt the kitchen down. He did all that for himself he says…you hear a “yea right” from a very brave soldier of godrick, never to be seen again. He gives you a suspiciously customized hankerchief, embroidery of (insert your fav flower here) when you catch a cold. Never asks for it back.

Post grafted Godrick is mostly the same, but more crazy with a 10% increase in confidence. For one, its been 24 hours and he has yet to tear you apart from limb to limb which is something. “Unfit for grafting” he says. yea right.

...

He also shows you his gore Godfrey goon shrine, your quality of life depends on the tone of your laugh. He lets you bathe him (wow you touched him…or some dude’s entire torso which he stole.) and Gostoc doesn’t fuck with you like he does with others. Good. Good. He trusts you enough to complain abt some tantalizing trespasser omen loitering infront of his castle named ‘Margit’. Which sounds awful lot like Morgott. He hasn’t clicked the dots and he most likely never will.

Radahn:

He lets you ride Leonard.

Radahn is the type of guy who is beyond friendly with anyone, so when he does something which would so obviously be labelled affectionate coming from others, it is generally dismissed as an act of friendship. He remembers your birthday and holds a surprise party which is VERY COOL, but he also hosts birthday parties for everyone else….which is also cool… He suffers through the friendzone for a while with grace.

But when he offers you a ride on his dear Leonard, that darling steed of his that he treats like his heir apparent? Yup, that very horse, is when the gears in your mind unclog. His highness Prince Leonard has always been a boundary none dare cross, but here he is granting you a safe passage to jump right through. He lifts you up with ease, and places you on the saddle. And when you smile, he smiles even wider. Signs eventually bubble up to the surface. He laughs more often around you, completely at ease. When drunk he regails you with tales of bygone heroes and his own aspirations to be one. Reply with “but you already are one” and you will catch him lag for 5 seconds.

He keeps you close by during expeditions, and even during social gatherings. He uses his gravity magic to help you/your siblings indulge in some 0 gravity fun. And during less crowded evenings, he arranges fun getaways with friends, except its just you two this time...and here on out. Oddly enough though, the closer he gets to you the more you find yourself isolated at your job etc. You start finding your posts more empty. Which is odd since you did remember there were 2 other people assigned at this pla- AND its general Radahn with 2 roasted exalted flesh in hand! Wonderful.

One can only speculate how he uses his powers as head general...

Bonus point if you like cats. He will bring his cats for a wash to your house (another excuse to see you)

Ranni:

She spills tea.

This one is easy since we have in game canon content as reference. At first she is secretive. She introduces herself as "renna", and maintains a professional distance. But as time passes and she comes to warm up to you, that distance is chipped away by her own doing. She confesses to her many well hidden secrets, dark secrets like how she played a hand in the night of black knives or her more lesser secrets like stealing her mom's books, giving young Radahn a bobcut in his sleep, mischiefs with Rykard etc. Her trust in you, that you will keep her word between you two, is the sign. Anytime the topic steers towards anything remotely romantic though, she transforms into a bashful tsundere

"Noooo don't open that box from that chamber in this location you don't want to marry me noooo" (gives you the key to that box). Also "take not the ring from this place, the solitude beyond the night is better mine alone." Is code word for "please marry me I am very lonely".

Rykard:

ОНОНОНО

Pre Snake Rykard:

He shows you his sex dungeon

Yea. The most forthright admirer award goes to! PRAETOR RYKARD! Rykard seems like the type of guy who has this very thick professional exterior, that betrays his true perverse nature. You sit down with him and think

"wow, what a well rounded individual! Yes he is rough around the edges, but he dresses nice, he speaks well, he looks lordly enough albeit dark circles, he is good with machines (he doesn’t tell you that he names them 'abductor virgins' 💀) hmm surely he isn't some perverted freak with dungeons and torture rooms in his house"

and then he offers you a tour of his house and peels off his skin like a snake fresh out of hibernation and every fibre of your being tells you to run as fast as u can. Think Tywin Lannister but it's obvious somebody's been slipping drops of mercury into his coffee. His stern facade hides a lecherous mind

It would go something like this. He is wearing his tywin lannister inspired drip, while riding his very high horse. He bothers to look down from his very high horse at which point he sees you. Double take. He approaches you with the confidence of an absolute slut, but its coated with enough regal varnish to make them barely acceptable in public. Something like "Good evening Fair lady/good sir, I see thou art unchaperoned this low in the evening. May we escort you somewhere safe?". You don't really understand what he is getting at first, until he offers to give you a tour of his beautiful rich and lavish manor. And like, he isn't lying. It's beautiful. It's rich. It's lavish. On top of a fucking volcano? It’s always the fucked up bitches with tastes like look at Mohg?! 10/10 (I had rank him second to Mohg in dripmaxxing). But the deeper you venture into his abode, the crazier the tour becomes. And then you watch this man peel his layers of civility strata by strata, with each new chamber easing him into his true self until ultimately what is left is a crazed man with a crazed look pointing at a literal dungeon with very suggestive toys. Tanith is there.

The pros though is that he is a good lover, and father. Stressing on Father, because you are gonna make him one. (Magic world if you are a male reader. Anything is possible)

Post Snake Rykard:

Ooooohhh togethhhaaaaaa we prossspeeerrr untuu eterniteeeeeeeee become fameeelee?

( he is giving you a choice which is a show of love. Choose your next words very carefully)

Godfrey:

He lets you dress his scars.

He recognizes that familiar feeling of love, and his age and experience has taught him that fighting it will be more painful, so he just lets it be instead. Despite his bloodlust and barbarism, which resurfaces here and there, he is surprisingly courteous in casual settings. Being married to a goddess you find out, is a lonely existence. Is there any love between the two? Questions that will storm your mind as you do good on the honor of dressing his wounds. You can feel the eyes of his golden beast watching over you. Such an act had intimate undertones back in his homeland. Do you understand?

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Miquella:

He doesn't 'slip' up any 'signs' no he LITERALLY stabs you with it(out of desperation), but you are still oblivious because he looks like your 8 yrs old baby cousin with a bug addiction(Those wings are real y/n)!He tries to appear his real age by snatching every opportunity provided to show the vastness of his mind and wisdom, but ends up giving young Sheldon vibes. He tells you straight to your face that he loves you like "no other", but he just gets swaddled in your lap like a baby. Not enjoying this experience.

Messmer: Don't know anything about him to write 3 paras (for obv) but the vibes he is giving right now is that he is less pookie bear than imagined, and impaling isn't just a hobby but his way of life. Going off of the trailer, I had say if he had a crush on you, he would be as straight forward as Godwyn, but with a more sinister bent. He would let you play with his snakes...maybe burn you deep to leave his mark...?

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alewritesfics · 8 months ago

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Hope

Happy marriage part 3

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: new hope blossoms and new starts commence

A/n: long time no see people! 😅😅😅 Sorry I went MIA but I got this done and decided to post it. Now I won't give an exact time on when I'll post because now I see I'm a little liar and I don't go through with my word 😶😶

I'm very sorry to leave you all hanging. But here's the last part of happy marriage and I hope you like it!

MASTERLIST Part 1. Part 2

“When I said I will give you a chance to make it up to me, I did not mean you had to follow me and be glued to my side everywhere I go.” You spoke annoyed, lifting up your eyes from the romance book you were currently reading. You had felt Anthony’s gaze centered on you for a few minutes now, you tried to ignore it but it felt so intense it was impossible to.

It was annoying, really, well maybe just a bit endearing, although you’ll fiercely deny it if anybody mentions it. Anthony really seemed to be trying to earn your forgiveness, he was more attentive than before, more understanding, a little bit more romantic as he now gifts you a bouquet of flowers every single day (something that annoys Lady Bridgerton as the maids cannot seem to find any more empty vases). But it was annoying that he seemed to follow you wherever you went.

A walk around the garden? Antony was walking behind you. You sit down in the drawing room to read a book? Anthony was seated next to you before you could even blink. A ball? He would always pull you into dances, something you couldn’t deny him of. Annoying, very annoying (You secretly love it, don’t lie to yourself).

“I know,” Anthony responded, meeting your eyes without any shame, “I do not mind following you around, it is quite…..fascinating, to be in your presence that is.”

You held back the blush wanting to come on to your cheeks at his words “Surprised you are just now figuring that out” You said, flickering your eyes back down to your book, pretending his words did not affect you in any way when the truth was that they did. “You know, it is not too late to give up now. You will not have my forgiveness from one day to the next.”

It was hard not to forgive him in an instant whenever he spoke sweet words, no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you still loved him, deeply. But the reminder of how much he hurt you and how much you cried over him washed away any sudden desire to forgive him. He had to work hard to earn your forgiveness, it’s not something you’ll give away easily towards him, not this time.

Anthony wasn’t deterred by your words, “There is something us Bridgertons are, and that is that we are stubborn, so i will not rest until I have fully earn your forgiveness, you have my word.” He said as he stood up, determination filling his words “Gather much patience and indifference as you can, darling, because I am going to be by your side until I succeed and I can see you are not as unaffected as you try to appear to be” He then turned around to walk out of the drawing room

“There is another thing I am bargaining for,” He stopped before he exited the room “and that is to earn back your love….no matter how long it takes” he said shamelessly before finally walking out

You swallowed harshly, your heart beating fast in your chest as you fully took in his words and the promise in them. You exhaled shakily, feelings you did not want to feel ever again trying to resurface. It is both horrible and amazing how much he affects you, whether he said cruel or sweet words, your traitorous heart always seems to beat faster to no one but him.

He felt so idiotic. For the first time in his entire life, Anthony felt like the dumbest person in the whole wide world. He could see it, he could see how much he actually hurt you. You were distant towards him, cold even, your eyes didn’t have that sparkle in them whenever you saw him, nor did you bend over trying to fulfill his every wish, not that he wanted you to, but there was this pain in your eyes, this hurt when your eyes met his which made him feel so guilty and dumb.

There is this saying that goes, you never know what you have until you lost it. Anthony felt like that. You was an amazing person and he felt like the dumbest person alive to not have realized that sooner. His mother was right from the start, you really are the perfect viscountess , the perfect woman….the only woman for him.

His only relief is that the pain that he previously saw in your eyes decreases with the time he spends with you. It gave him hope and he will not rest until that pain disappears completely and your eyes once again reflect love in them when you see him.

“Y/n” His face lights up, eyes flickering up when he heard your name, standing up from his seat as he saw you enter the dining room with a plate full of cookies, his reaction not unnoticed by his mother who hid her smile pretending to take a sip out of her glass of wine.

“Y/n,” Anthony said taking a step towards you before stopping and instead pulling out your unofficial assigned chair (which is coincidentally besides him, wink wink), one you haven’t sat on since your marriage crumbled.

You sit down on the chair, silently thanking him with a nod of your head “I made some cookies, they’re recently baked so they might be hot” You smiled, putting the plate in the middle of the table “I-“

“You didn’t have to.” Anthony said breathlessly, the thought that you accepted his gesture and was so close to him making his heart beat quickly, it felt as if it would snap right out of his chest. You were not completely ignoring him…

“I know, I wanted to” You say with a nod

“They look delicious.” Anthony said, not knowing what else to say to you, suddenly feeling as if he couldn’t muster up any idea on what to say to keep the conversation going.

“I hope that they are” You answer

“I am sure anything you make is amazing,” He said with a smile

You blink, now you were the one speechless “Thanks….I guess?” you say awkwardly. You heard Benedict chuckle from beside you, you turned to face him, giving him a glare.

“Ah no, do not mind me” Benedict uttered, taking a sip from his cup of wine “Pretend I’m not here, I just remembered something funny and it made me laugh”

You scoffed before standing up from your seat “I have to go get ready for the opera” you said “do not follow me” you uttered once you saw Anthony moving to stand up as well

“but I- I can-“ he groaned when he saw you leaving without another glance

“Anthony, go call Y/n and Hyacinth , the carriage is almost here” Violet Bridgerton told her son as she looked out the window

“No need” You spoke as you walked down the stairs, Hyacinth not far behind you

You let out a breath as you reached the ground floor, Anthony’s gaze immediately found yours as you descended the stairs. His eyes lit up, as though seeing you for the first time that evening, his breath catching slightly at the sight of you. You wore a gown of deep sapphire, its elegant lines flattering your figure without drawing too much attention, and yet, to Anthony, you might as well have been the only person in the room.

“Y/n…” He murmured, his tone soft, almost reverent. The man you had once known to be brash and commanding now seemed utterly captivated by your every movement. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t so infuriatingly persistent.

“You look beautiful,” he added, his voice lower now, as if it was meant only for you.

You offered him a polite smile, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Thank you, Anthony.”

Hyacinth grinned mischievously from behind you, clearly picking up on the tension between you two. “Anthony’s been quite eager about the opera all week,” she teased as she passed by, giving her brother a sly look.

Anthony’s expression shifted into something more sheepish, a rare sight indeed. “Only because I knew you’d be there,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You sighed inwardly. This was all part of his effort to win you back, but he couldn’t just charm his way through everything. Not after the pain he had caused. There was a deep well of hurt beneath your composed exterior, and no amount of flowery words or pretty compliments could erase it. You had promised yourself that if he truly wanted your forgiveness, he would have to work for it. He would have to see the depths of the damage he had inflicted.

“Let’s just get going,” you said softly, already moving toward the door where the carriage waited.

The opera house was a grand affair, as always. Chandeliers glittered overhead, the rich burgundy of the velvet curtains creating an opulent backdrop for the night’s performance. People dressed in their finest milled about, awaiting the start of the show, their chatter filling the air like a soft hum.

You took your seat next to Anthony, and despite the large crowd, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room. As the lights dimmed and the first notes of the opera began to play, Anthony leaned slightly toward you.

“I’ve never quite appreciated music as I do now,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft overture. His eyes, however, were not on the stage but on you.

You didn’t respond, focusing your attention on the performance. Sienna Rosso, the opera singer he had an affair with, had a voice that could command any room, but tonight, it seemed Anthony was deaf to it. His gaze never left you, even as the area swelled with emotion, which completely surprised you.

Throughout the performance, he remained close, his presence a constant reminder of the promises he had made. When Sienna reached a particularly moving part of her song, you noticed Anthony’s hand briefly brush against yours where it rested on the armrest. You quickly pulled your hand away, not wanting to give him any more satisfaction than necessary. The corner of his mouth twitched in what you could only describe as amusement, but he didn’t push further.

After the opera ended, and the crowd began to file out, you overheard murmurs from others in the audience. Most were compliments on the performance, but a few curious glances and whispers were directed toward you and Anthony.

“It seems Viscount Bridgerton is quite taken with his wife these days,” one woman said to her companion, not too far from where you stood. “He didn’t take his eyes off her once.”

You pretended not to hear them, but the words echoed in your mind as you followed Anthony outside. His devotion was clear, and while part of you appreciated his efforts, another part still held back.

The days that followed were filled with Anthony’s persistent attempts to be near you. He insisted on accompanying you during your walks in the gardens, even if you would rather enjoy the peace and quiet alone. You often found him sitting in the drawing room whenever you tried to read, as if his presence had become a permanent fixture in your life.

One morning, you entered the drawing room with your favorite book, intent on having a quiet moment to yourself. To no surprise, Anthony was already seated by the window, reading through some documents. His head lifted the moment you walked in.

“You don’t always have to be here, you know,” you said, trying to sound indifferent as you sat down with your book. You felt a sense of déjà vu as you remembered you said almost the exact thing days ago.

“I know,” Anthony replied, not looking up from his papers. “But I want to be.”

You shook your head slightly, unsure whether to be frustrated or touched by his relentless presence.

As time passed, Anthony’s efforts didn’t wane. Instead, they became more thoughtful, more personal. He began to ask about the things you can loved—books, music, even the small hobbies you indulged in. One day, he found you at the piano, quietly playing a familiar melody.

“I didn’t know you played,” he said softly, standing by the doorway as he watched you.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you replied, not looking up from the keys.

Anthony stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Then let me learn.”

For a moment, you stopped playing and turned to him. His gaze was sincere, and for the first time, you saw just how much he truly wanted to understand you, not just win back your favor. There was a quiet desperation in his eyes—a longing to connect in a way that went beyond mere apologies.

“I’m not the same person I was before, Anthony,” you said softly. “And neither are you.”

He knelt beside the piano bench, his hand resting lightly on the edge. “I know. But that doesn’t change how much I want to be the man who deserves you.”

Anthony’s devotion became even more apparent during the next ball. You had agreed to attend, mostly to maintain appearances, but you had no intention of dancing with him. Yet, as the evening wore on, you found yourself in his arms once again, moving to the rhythm of the music.

The anticipation of the evening bubbling inside you. You’d worn your best gown—an elegant shade of deep emerald green that complemented your complexion beautifully, with delicate lace detailing that caught the light as you moved.

As you stepped into the grand hall, the chandeliers glimmered above, and the soft murmur of conversations created a symphony of excitement. You could already see a few familiar faces, including Anthony’s, who was talking animatedly with Benedict. As your eyes caught his, a smile crept onto his face, and it sent an unexpected flutter through your chest.

“You look stunning,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as you approached him. There was a sincerity in his tone that made your heart race.

“Thank you,” you replied, trying to keep your composure. “You don’t look too shabby yourself, Viscount Bridgerton.”

“You’ve really been making an effort, haven’t you?” you remarked, genuinely curious.

“I have,” he replied earnestly. “I realized how much I took for granted, and I want to change that. I want to understand you better, to show you how much you mean to me.”

His words stirred something deep within you. It was a mixture of hope and caution, the remnants of your heart still wary. “It’s going to take time,” you reminded him gently.

“I’m willing to wait,” he said, his voice firm yet tender.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze of laughter and shared stories, a tentative but genuine connection beginning to weave itself between you. Over the following weeks, Anthony continued his pursuit, each small gesture a reminder of his commitment. He would bring you books he thought you’d enjoy, spend afternoons listening to you play the piano, and even sought you out during family gatherings, always ensuring you were included.

During one particularly memorable evening at a ball, Anthony once again swept you into a dance. The music flowed around you, and with each turn, he whispered sweet nothings, his breath warm against your ear. “You look breathtaking tonight,” he murmured, pulling you closer.

“Flattery again?” you teased, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you.

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth,” he replied, his gaze unwavering.

As the dance continued, a group of gentlemen approached, their laughter echoing with a cruel edge. One stepped forward, a smirk plastered across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Viscount and his precious wife,” he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. “I never thought you’d stoop so low after stepping out on her for that soprano. What a delight to see you back with the real prize. But then again, is she really a prize if you had to search elsewhere?”

The laughter from his companions was sharp and mocking, and your heart sank at their words. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger flooding through you.

Anthony’s demeanor shifted in an instant. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said coolly, his grip on your waist tightening as he moved to lead you away. “Your lack of manners is as appalling as your lack of character.”

“Come now, Anthony. You can’t seriously think anyone would believe you’re happy here,” the gentleman continued, his smirk widening. “After all, we all know your heart is still with that soprano. Poor thing, she wasn’t simply a phase, was she?”

The cruel laughter of the group hung in the air, and you felt the sting of their words cut deep. Anthony’s protective nature surged to the forefront, his expression hardening as he glared at them. “Fun at the expense of another’s feelings is not fun at all,” he retorted, his voice steady but low, a clear warning laced with anger.

You watched in surprise as he stood his ground, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. “You’d do well to remember that she deserves respect, not your mockery.”

As the gentlemen backed off, their laughter fading into awkward silence, you felt a rush of gratitude for Anthony. “Thank you,” you whispered, looking up at him. In that moment, you truly saw the man he was becoming,the way he stood up for you, how he was learning to respect your feelings, and the genuine warmth in his eyes. It was as if a veil had lifted, and you could see the sincerity in his actions.

Your heart softened for him, the edges of your hurt beginning to blur. “You’ve really changed,” you added, your voice barely above a whisper. “It means so much to me.”

“Always,” he replied softly, his gaze searching yours. The intensity in his eyes was filled with an unspoken promise, a vow that he would continue to earn your trust and love.

As the evening wore on, you both enjoyed each other’s company, the space around you brimming with laughter and joy. The memory of the cruel words from the gentlemen faded, overshadowed by the warmth that radiated between you and Anthony. With each smile, each shared glance, you could feel the distance between you gradually closing, drawing you closer together.

You gently squeezed Anthony’s hand and leaned in close, your voice barely above a whisper, “Come with me.”

His eyebrows raised in curiosity, but he didn’t hesitate. You led him out of the ballroom, down the halls of the house, until you found a small, secluded alcove at the back of the house—a quiet corner where you could be alone. The air was cooler here, with the faint scent of roses from the garden outside, and the moonlight filtered softly through the window.

Anthony looked at you with concern, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what was on your mind. “Are you alright?” he asked gently, his voice filled with care.

You nodded, stepping closer to him, feeling your heart pound in your chest. “I’m fine, Anthony. I just… I wanted to talk to you alone.”

He looked nervous, as if he feared what you might say. His eyes flickered between yours, waiting, bracing. You took a deep breath, your fingers still wrapped around his.

“I’ve been thinking,” you started, your voice soft, “about everything that’s happened between us. The pain, the distance… but also, how far you’ve come.” You met his gaze, your heart swelling with the depth of emotion that had been building inside you for months. “You’ve changed, Anthony. Truly. And I can see how hard you’ve worked to prove yourself, not just to me, but to everyone.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched slightly, his brow furrowing as he listened. “I did it for you,” he said quietly, “because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you completely. You mean everything to me, Y/n. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ve regretted it every day since. But I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as his words struck a deep chord within you. He was baring his soul to you but this time, in the privacy of this small, intimate space, it felt even more real—more raw.

You reached up, gently cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his jawline. “I know, Anthony. I can see that now.” Your voice wavered slightly, thick with emotion. “And I want to give us another chance.”

His eyes widened, surprise flickering in his gaze, followed by an overwhelming rush of relief. “Y/n… are you sure?” His hand covered yours on his cheek, his thumb caressing your skin as if he was afraid you might disappear.

You nodded, stepping closer until your bodies were almost touching. “I’m sure,” you whispered. “I want to be with you, Anthony. I want to move forward together. No more walls between us.”

A soft breath escaped him, as if he’d been holding it in for far too long. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I love you, Y/n. I’ve always loved you, even when I was too foolish to realize it. You are everything to me. My heart, my soul… I don’t deserve you, but I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret giving me another chance.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but they were tears of joy, of hope, of finally letting go of the past and embracing the future. “I love you too, Anthony,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Despite everything, I never stopped loving you.”

The moment hung between you, charged with emotion, until Anthony, unable to resist any longer, gently cupped your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first, tender, as if he was afraid to push too far. But as your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, becoming more passionate. Years of unspoken feelings, of longing and heartache, melted away in that single, soul-stirring kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together, the weight of the past lifted from your shoulders.

“You’re mine,” Anthony whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m yours, forever.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around you like a blanket. “Forever,” you agreed, your heart full.

Years later, the memory of that night remained vivid in your mind, a turning point in your love story. Life had changed for the better, your marriage growing stronger with each passing day. You and Anthony had built a beautiful life together, filled with laughter, love, and the joy of your growing family.

On sunny afternoons, you would find Anthony in the garden, playing with your children—two boys and a girl—who adored their father with all the fierce love you had once felt when you were a child. He was a different man now, a devoted husband and a doting father, and every day he made good on his promise to you.

One afternoon, as you watched from the porch, you saw Anthony scoop up your youngest daughter, spinning her around as she giggled uncontrollably. Your heart swelled with happiness, and you realized how far the two of you had come. The man who once made mistakes was now the man who never let a day go by without showing you just how much he loved you.

Anthony caught your eye from across the garden, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. He smiled, his eyes filled with the same love and devotion that had been there that night in the alcove, when you decided to give him another chance.

And you knew, deep in your heart, that it had been the best decision you had ever made.

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man-i-love-fanfiction · 6 months ago

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To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter One: Blue Hydrangeas- Gratitude

Summary: Your job as a florist has been the highlight of your day for years. It becomes even more exciting when a certain new customer becomes a regular.

Word Count: 2286

Author's Note: Hey guys! My first multi-chapter fic, i'm so excited!!! i don't have a strict posting schedule, but I won't go more than two weeks without an update. please bear with me here because I have no idea what it's like to be a florist. I hope you all enjoy!!

p.s. special shoutout again to @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading, i can't thank you enough!

fic below the cut :)

You were a part of the small minority of people who actually loved their job.

The concept of this was strange to most people — strangers making small talk, men asking introductory questions on dates, even your own parents. Maybe because it wasn’t exactly a career; more so a job that someone has as a way to make rent while getting their degree, which is how you originally began to work at Earth's Laughter Florists. College had been years ago for you now, and yet you stayed behind the counter, making bouquets for customers with a genuine smile on your face. It got to the point that when the old owner decided it was time to retire, she chose you to take over. Of course, you immediately accepted; this job was the best part of your day. While all of your friends were going insane with their office jobs, you… admittedly still went insane from time to time, just in a much prettier workplace.

You had even taken it upon yourself to learn flower language: different types of flowers having different symbolic meanings. It was almost like extra credit. It gave you a new challenge of arranging flowers while keeping both color and symbolism in mind, and helped you create bouquets and arrangements with more meaning. This, in turn, gave your customers a new incentive to buy different flowers for different occasions based on what they meant. More business for you, more smiles on people's faces, and more money in your pocket. Everyone wins.

Another benefit of the job — your favorite part — was that it gave you small glimpses into the lives of other people. Flowers had a multiplicity of sorts. They were so versatile that people bought from you for almost every occasion. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, dance recitals, you name it. It made you more appreciative of others. Every day was a new insight into whatever your customers had going on. And today was no exception.

You arrived an hour before the store opened, as usual. You went into the back and threw on your apron, adjusting your name tag. Thoughts of everything you had to do before opening ran through your head, and you quickly began to busy yourself with everything from giving some flowers new vases of water to following up on an order for a wedding. Your two coworkers came in around a half an hour after your arrival, donning their aprons, saying their hellos, and also beginning their day. When the time finally came, you flipped around the sign hanging from the door, telling everyone outside you were open. You stood behind the counter and waited.

And waited.

One of the only downsides of your job was that it required a lot of patience.

It's not like you were just staring at the clock, biding your time until a customer entered. You still had work to get done, mostly tying up loose ends from what you didn't finish before. Your coworkers were occupied with a tall order of arrangements, so they stuck to the back, with the occasional popping in to ask if you needed assistance. Politely, you declined.

Mundane was the word that kept repeating itself in your head as you did your odd jobs around the store. Not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, mundane meant nothing horrible was occurring (even though it meant nothing was occurring). Of course, mundane never does last long.

You had just finished creating an arrangement to put on display when your first customer of the day walked in.

The bell above the door rang, and you quickly walked back over to where you were supposed to be standing, not even bothering to see who had walked in until you were behind the counter.

The first thing you noticed was that he was taller than you had expected, with long brown curls that fell down to his shoulders. His outfit, a black turtleneck, a brown leather jacket, and black jeans, was the right mix of formal and casual; you could tell he had somewhere to be, but with people that wouldn't mind if he laughed a little too loudly.

To top it all off, he was handsome. You couldn't pull your gaze from him if you tried.

He walked forward, slowly looking around at all the flowers on display until his gaze locked onto you. He broke the silence between you.

“Hello. I need some flowers.”

You maintained your composure and brushed off your previous thoughts. You started your usual routine, asking him the same questions to get to know the situation (and him) better.

“What's the occasion?”

“It's my mum’s birthday.”

“Does she have a favorite flower?” You asked. He replied with no hesitation.

“She loves hydrangeas. Blue hydrangeas. She always has.”

His immediate answer brought a small smile to your face. You nodded intently and began to think of all the possible combinations of flowers that would work well.

“You're specific. I like that. That makes my job easier. Usually guys say something like ‘I don't know’ or ‘the purple ones’ or just ‘roses’. It's like some people don't even pay attention.”

“Well, that's all I know how to do.”

“A blessing and a curse, I imagine.”

“More of a blessing, believe it or not.”

“I have a similar blessing, though it seems to be laser-focused on plants of all things.” You joked. “Speaking of plants, let me start on your bouquet.”

You left your spot, walking over to the wall of flowers on display for you to pick from. You stopped and stood next to the man, fixated on the wall as you tried to decide what flowers would go well together, in meaning and in visuals. Mumbling, you thought out loud.

“Alright. For his mother. Blue hydrangeas… that's gratitude. What can go with that?”

The customer tilted his head in confusion, clearly having heard you.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but what's with blue hydrangeas and gratitude?” He asked. Your eyes widened, and you turned to face him as you started your explanation.

“Oh, it's flower language. I learned about it to help me make more symbolic bouquets. Back in the Victorian era, people would use bouquets of flowers to convey messages they couldn't say out loud. Most of the time it was a love confession, though you could also reject someone if you picked your flora wisely. Individual flowers have meanings, too. Blue hydrangeas, your mum's favorite, symbolize gratitude. There was even a change in the meaning based on which side the ribbon was on, or if they were given upside down, and…” You cut yourself off when you realized you’d been talking for much too long, your excited expression dropping. “I’m rambling about something you definitely don't care about. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a confused look, and a small laugh of disbelief escaped him.

“What? Don't apologize. That was fascinating. I don't know if I’ll ever see flowers the same way again. In a good way, of course”

The fact that he was actually invested in what you had to say pleasantly surprised you. People — not just customers, people you actually choose to surround yourself with — would often tune you out after the first two sentences.

You knew this man for two minutes and he was already raising your standards.

“Well then, I’m happy to give you a new perspective. I’ll get started on your arrangement.”

You stepped back to get a better look at the flowers lining the walls of the room. You already had a vague idea of what you wanted, you just needed to put it into action. Hydrangeas were grabbed first, and made the focal point of the bouquet immediately. Other flowers were picked up and put down, a trial-and-error of sorts until you found which ones truly matched.

Occasionally, you looked over your shoulder to find your customer still standing there, spectating you from a few feet away. He watched you with a certain gleam in his eye, one you would attribute to admiration if you didn't know any better.

Once your selections were made, you picked out a plastic sheet and took the flowers into the back, where there was a smaller room with a much larger table surface for a workspace. The wrapping was laid out, and meticulously, flowers were laid down. Rearranged. Shifted around. After a few small touches, everything was in the exact place you wanted it.

You finally finished up, wrapping the flowers in the silver plastic and tying it up with a blue ribbon. You went back behind the counter and held the bundle of flowers up, pointing at each one as you described the meaning of each specifically selected flower.

“There's the blue hydrangeas for gratitude, white roses for loyalty and beauty, and belladonna delphinium for protection and well-being. You're basically showering your mum with compliments with this thing.”

“It's gorgeous,” he replied, the look of astonishment from before lingering on his face.

“As nature tends to be.”

“I mean, you can't argue with that, but the way you’ve arranged them, it's… stunning. She’ll love it.”

His compliment surprised you; it wasn't too often you got such a compliment for a simple bouquet. It caused your heart to flutter in your chest in a way that definitely crossed the border of the employee-customer relationship you had going on. Frightening. Maybe if you kept acting unaffected, it would magically stop.

“Let me ring you up.”

There was no true cash register, and you instead relied on a pen, a yellow legal pad, and mental math for customers’ totals. It took a moment, but you calculated what he owed you.

“That'll be $54.”

He muttered in agreement, and you watched as he reached into his coat pocket. His hand stayed there, fiddling around. After a moment, he reached the opposite hand into the opposite pocket. He felt around for a second, pulling his hands out and placing them on his hips. His content expression was replaced by one that was much more panicked.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the matter?”

“I…I forgot my wallet back at my house. Do you take any online payment?”

You shook your head.

“No, sorry. We're old school. That's alright though, I can put these to the side and you can run home and get your wallet.”

He let out a frustrated sigh in response, angry more at himself than anything else.

“That's the thing. I live thirty minutes from here and I’m meeting my mum in fifteen minutes, and I have specific instructions to be on time. I might just…”

He stopped his sentence, paused, and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’ll find something else. Thanks for all your help, though. You have a gift.”

You caught the sincerity behind his now bitter tone, and it made your heart ache. He turned to leave and took a few steps forward. You didn't process that you had said anything until his reaction.

“Wait.”

He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned around, and you realized your impulses led you to call out for him even though you had no plan whatsoever.

Biting at your lower lip, you thought of an idea. You genuinely wanted to help this man give his mother flowers… The fact you found him attractive was merely an added bonus. Besides, the pity you felt for him overrode that. Once the metaphorical light bulb lit above your head, you spoke again, leaning in closer and lowering your voice so only he could hear.

“Okay, I’m not supposed to do this, and this definitely isn't a good business practice, but I can tell you're not just doing this to steal flowers from me, so I’ll make an exception.”

He leaned in as well with a look of intrigue. You continued to explain.

“You can take the bouquet for now, and then within… I don't know, two days, you have to pay me back. I’d just need a name and phone number so I can contact you if you don't show up.”

You snatched one of your business cards from the display and flipped it over so the blank side faces upwards, leaving a pen in front of you so he could write. He picked up the ballpoint, seemingly scribbled for a moment, and then slid the card back over to you. Written in surprisingly beautiful handwriting, you read his name aloud.

“Andrew… Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

This caught you off guard. For a second you wondered if maybe you did accidentally give a free bouquet to a shady guy.

“Excuse me?”

Andrew’s mouth went agape as he realized the connotation behind what he said, and he quickly muttered an explanation, flustered. “Oh my god! No. Not like that. You… your name tag.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you gave him a nod.

“Right. Forgot that was there for a second. Alright, take your bouquet. Happy birthday to your mother. And remember, two days.”

He gave you a gesture showing his gratitude, pressing his hands together.

“Thank you. So much. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” He said, grabbing the bouquet.

“Hopefully with money in two days,” you joked.

He let out a laugh.

“Money would do the trick. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

You watched as he left, the smile of your face growing as you noticed his appreciation of the flowers you had arranged by the doorway. He paused for a moment before opening the door and leaving, and you caught him humming a tune you'd never heard before.

You hoped he would come back much sooner rather than later.

#hozier #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne #hozier fanfic #hozier fanfiction #writing #fanfic #writeblr #writers on tumblr #divider #to share the space with simple living things

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hees-mine · 6 months ago

Text

Roll one - L. Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: smut, smoking, dirty talk, blowjob, drabble.

Genre: 18+

WC: 2,010k

“Ooh, I’m telling on you,” heeseung, your best friend, said after entering your room, that was filled with the smell of weed.

He had texted you earlier that he was free to hangout if you wanted to and naturally you agreed but you didn’t know he was gonna be annoying as soon as he stepped foot into your room.

You glared at him as he entered without your permission not to say he needed it he was literally your bestfriend after all. “If you do you’re not leaving this room alive.” You puffed out the smoke from your mouth and reclined against your bed frame.

You could joke freely with him like that cause heeseung was your childhood friend. You knew each other in and out, maybe even more than your parents, given the fact he knows you smoke and they don’t.

They’re out on vacation right now which is perfect cause that leaves the house to you and your oversized blunt that sits between your thumb and index finger as you take another puff.

“You’re a bad girl, you know, that smoking behind your mom and dad's back.” he closes the door behind him and plops down on your bed, not minding the smell. He’s smelled it on you a million times before, so he’s used to it. He’d even occasionally smoke with you.

“Yeah, yeah,” rolled your eyes at him.

“With a bad attitude, too,” he says while kicking his shoes off.

“Want some?” You say, offering him some of your blunt.

“What? Head? Yeah,” he chuckles, and you scoff at his horrible attempt at humor.

“I meant the blunt, you idiot.” he bumps you with his shoulder, laughing softly as if to tell you to take a joke.

“Sure, I’ll take a hit.” he wasn’t as much of a smoker as you, but at times, he would. You pass it to him, and he wraps his lips around it, inhaling deeply and holding it for as long as he can before coughing hysterically. “Oh shit,” he laughs in between coughs.

After his coughing bout is over, he takes another hit, this time a lot smaller than before, and hands it back to you. “You know, we actually just indirectly kissed,” he says as if that’s news to share.

“Oh my god, can I just suck your dick and get this over with?” You sighed, knowing this wouldn’t be his last attempt at a sexual joke aimed at you.

“Thought you’d never ask” he half jokes but little does he know you’re not joking with him anymore.

Read full story on Patreon

Posting a longer fic next week

#heeseung smut #enhypen lee heeseung #enhypen hyung line #enhypen fluff #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen fanfic #enhypen heeseung #enhypen #lee heesung smut #heeseung angst #lee heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #lee heeseung #heeseung #lee heesung x reader

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unholyhelbig · 3 months ago

Note

Would you consider doing vampire Kate again?

Title: Nothing but Weakness (Read part one | Read Part Two)

Ship: Female!Reader x Vampire!Kate Bishop

Warnings: Vampire tendencies, blood, dom/sub dynamics, an incident with a fork, power dynamics, mentions of murder, kind of mentions of trafficking but not really, night clubs, blood consumption, Humans as familiars, horrible grammar I don't proofread

[A/n: I got way too carried away, this is for all two of you that enjoy the vampire Kate Bishop series as much as I do. It's purely self-serving. I'm off to the South to deal with very unpleasant family matters so this is the last original thing I'll be posting for a while. Apologies.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Canine teeth dug painlessly into the grooved marks in your wrist. They’d been tattooed there from years of practiced bites, carved from habit. While Kate fed into her unpredictability, she was a creature of habit at the end of the day. A creature that liked the warmth of you in her lap and the taste of your blood against her tongue just as much as you enjoyed the way her saccharine venom lulled you into a state of bliss.

Kate’s free hand dragged patterns up and down your spine in an act of soothing you. You weren’t bothered, nor were you in need of her comfort but you accepted it willingly. Craved it in a way that you didn’t want to admit. She smelled spiced and warm like an autumn day. Your nose was in the crook of her neck, and you felt so small curled up in her lap as she handled paperwork in the low light of her office. The same office you’d broken into more than five years ago now.

Sometimes, when she wasn’t plagued with hunger, you’d simply grab a book and read while she worked. But she’d beaconed you for something more tonight. She’d wanted you in her arms and you were hardly one to refuse her requests.

You hardly knew how she found you crowded into her lap comfortable. But she never complained. Kate withdrew her teeth and licked at the familiar wound. She was a messy eater, but never with you. She even tucked your hand against your chest and pulled you closer. Timidly going back to her work without a word, just a last swallow of her meal.

On nights like this, you drifted in and out of sleep to the sound of her pen against paper and her breath flowing in and out of her lungs. While neither of you admitted it, nor did you mention it outside of the office walls, you both reveled in the close comforts of one another.

Kate’s cellphone ringing pulled you from the hazy confines of the moment. She didn’t’ shift you, but her voice rumbling in her chest nearly made you whine. You knew better than to move unless she moved you herself. Her hand came up to the nave of your neck, scratched the back of your head absentmindedly.

“Here? Well, I don’t see why you’d want to…” You heard the air escape her lungs. “They’re insufferable. No, mother. Not all of them. A select few but when they are gathered in a crowd as you are suggesting they become a pack of wild animals that I am hesitant to entertain in my home.”

There was a beat of silence. If Katherine Bishop had a beating heart you assumed it would be thudding wildly against her chest cavity. She’d stopped working her hand through your hair and had allowed it to rest against the small of your neck in a grip that stabilized herself. You picked your head from her chest and finally got a good look at the bite on your wrist that had healed back over into the dark etching of her teeth.

Another perk of being her familiar was healing with a speed unmatched. Living in time with her as long as she allowed it. She’d grown a fondness for you and showed as much as she gently grabbed your hand with a slight frown and kissed the mark lightly.

Kate’s resolve was cracking, “Fine. Yes. Whatever. But know this, mother, if you are to step foot into my territory, you must respect my rules and that includes my property,” her stare darkened tenfold as crimson eyes met your own. “All of my property.”

She hung up without a goodbye as she often did, and you didn’t probe her for more answers. It was better to stay silent and let Kate fill the silence save for the crackling of the hearth. She huffed something heavy and threw her cellphone back on the mahogany desk.

“It seems as if I’m hosting the Romanov and Murdock clans for dinner this Friday, I guess my parents penthouse is getting fumigated.” Kate sat back, stretching her arms over her head. It exposed the pale beauty of her own neck, the soft expanses of immortality that made your own heart pound. “In other words, Jack went on a bender and can’t be bothered to find someone to clean it up in time.”

“I could, I’m sure.”

“Mm, with your eyes closed and half your own blood drained. You’re shockingly good at cleaning up my messes, darling. I’d prefer to keep you to myself. If that means playing house for an evening, I think we can manage. Don’t you?”

The three families converged once every few months and often rotated between estates. Ironically enough, the place you despised visiting the most with Eleanor and Jack’s penthouse, so this was a bit of a reprieve, if you were being honest. It would give the woman less of an opportunity to corner you on your own turf.

Something about the constant revolving door of familiars made your skin crawl. The matriarch of the Bishop dynasty took every chance to remind you of how expendable you were. Despite the swift kick in the knee Kate would deliver under the table exactly once before a glare would be leveled in her direction.

You were nothing but a ghost to the Romanovs and the Murdock families. That suited you just fine. Seen not heard, ready with decanters of chilled ichor that had been bottled and preserved in cellars for centuries. You stood prim and proper and watched for Kate’s hand signals. For her distress. You knew when she needed her coat and when she needed you.

Kate’s warm fingers, tepid from her dinner, grasped your chin and turned your focus towards her. “We will handle it just fine. What’s on your mind? You can speak freely here, pet.”

It almost felt like a trap, but you knew it wasn’t. Not with Kate. Not after all of these years as her faithful familiar. Maybe within the first two, when she was hellbent on instructing you the way she wanted to. When you were even more determined to fight her every step of the way just to see how far you could push it. You’d both learned to cohabitate. To learn what would work.

It had turned from cordiale, to actually enjoying one another’s company, to craving it.

“There should be more confidence, being here in your home. On your territory. Rationally I know that. But your mother doesn’t enjoy my presence. At the last dinner,” You swallowed, wanted to look away but knew that didn’t fare well with Kate. Never had. “Mrs. Bishop knows that you are too stubborn to let me go as your familiar.”

Kate had an adorable scowl that betrayed her confusion. The slightest lilt to her head and jut to her jaw. The problem with being nothing more than a ghost in the halls was hearing things you were not meant to and keeping your mouth shut where it counts.

“What did you hear?”

“She proposed” You drew in an unsteady breath “she would like Natalia Romanova to barter for my services. Believes that you’ll come to your senses without me clouding them.”

A low rumble pushed past Kate’s lips. It was a mix between a growl and hum that signaled thinking. Her fingers dug into your hip in a possessive show, almost like pulling you even closer into her chest would mark you with her cinnamon metallic scent. Of course, it wouldn’t. But you didn’t mind the closeness.

“My mother fears that we’re getting close to a milestone between vampires and their familiars, and I can’t help but disagree.”

It was your turn to cock your head to the side. She’d often explain things about lamia history in bits and pieces. The Bishops were rooted in the south, and she wasn’t too proud of the fact. Old money that bred old discomforts. She’d curl up in front of the fire on the floor in the living room with a glass of bourbon, the two of you passing it back and forth with stories of her ancestors. The technicalities would slip past silver tongues.

“If deemed worthy by their masters, and chosen by the familiars themselves, they can be sired. So offered the choice. It seems that my mother worries of our closeness, that I’ll present such a gift to you. Though, many deem it more of a curse than a blessing.”

“Huh,”

“Huh.”

The heat never seemed to reach Kate’s nose, but you never flinched when she nuzzled against your cheek, breathed you in. A curse. Her warm breath on your collarbone and nimble fingers at the waistband of your sweatbands didn’t’ feel like much of a curse. Neither did the handful of gentle mornings that she graced you with over the years.

But then there was the bloodlust. The sharpened teeth and the bones that were picked clean by maggots that color of the moon. You’d witnessed enough dinners to hear the way they spoke of humanity as if it were a spade in a deck of cards. Something that could be folded and put in the spokes of a bicycle or played in a hand to win a few chips, but nothing more. Certainly, something less.

Sometimes, you’d dream of the group of people you’d met the same night you crossed paths with Katherine Bishop. She’d disposed of the bodies herself, but it had been the last time. From that evening on, it was you that dug the tip of the shovel into the dirt and took care of it. People who had families; mothers, daughters, brothers and sons. More cards and more decks.

“Baby, your heartbeat is deafening. I’m not offering up a thing, not on the pretense of sending my mother into a fit and certainly not to push you into one. But you’re not going with the Romanov’s. Not after I’ve spent all this damn time teaching you.” She nipped at your ear, chuckling.

“Right, right” You reveled in her good mood, returned her smile with a soft one. “I’ll make sure to remember my lessons.”

“I can reinforce them before the dinner party.”

“No really, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I think it might be.” She moved from nipping to kissing a delicate spot right below your ear, one that made you melt further into her hold, eyes fluttering shut obediently. “Just to be sure.”

Yelena shed her coat with practiced ease. When the expensive fabric met your fingertips, it lacked the warmth that accompanied any human. It was for show, to keep her from collecting any moisture from the snow that fell in sheets from the sky and collected at the edges of Kate’s property.

She smelled pleasant, of mint and sage. “Thank you, rodnaya”

The younger Russian smoothed the collar of your shirt with her nimble fingers as if it were out of place to begin with. You enjoyed Yelena’s presence. The Romanov family were much unlike the other vampire dynasties. They were messy in the sense that they handled their business with a sharp edge.

Alexi laughed much too loudly, Melina rarely admonished, Yelena and Natalia bickered as if they hadn’t had centuries to settle their quarrels. If you were to be bartered into a family of lamia, you would comfortably settle for the Romanovs. If you weren’t falling steadily for Katherine Bishop and her horrible mother, you would willingly go with Natalia, should she have you.

“Do not tell Eleanor, but I hit her Cadillac twice trying to parallel park.” Yelena huffed, “We can both blame Kate, no?”

She patted your shoulder and whisked away towards the parlor before you could open your mouth to respond. You listened as her boots made muffled steps on the carpet, the influx in conversation as she joined the Murdock’s and the Bishop’s. You blinked a few times, shaking off the feel of her touch before hanging her coat next to the others and reorienting yourself.

Candlelight flickered in every room of the house, shading only the essential parts of the home. Eleanor had brought in her own chef, the same one that had been with the family for a few years on the recommendation of a family friend. Anna Ameyama, someone who was trembling the first time you’d met her, nearly slicing through the meat of her palm until you steadied her hand.

She worked with practiced ease now and her leftovers were the best thing you’d ever tasted. You often hung around the kitchen and watched as she cooked. She was the closest thing to a friend that you had. The other familiars, Eleanors toys, something she found expendable, were never around or coherent enough to form a bond with.

“Grab the thyme from the fridge and make yourself useful for once.” Anna mumbled, hovering over the stove as she stirred something with diligence. A light heat dusted her cheeks, tinting her pale skin a light pink.

“I’ll have you know I’m very useful, just not to you.” You winced at the brightness of the artificial light in the fridge. This was the fullest you’d ever seen it. Kate kept you well fed for her own benefit, but Anna was a chef of sustenance, and these were ingredients that you’d never heard of. “Yeah, which one is thyme, the green one or the green one?”

She groaned and reached around you. It was one of the green ones, so you were on the right track. “useless, absolutely useless. Can’t believe you used to work in a grocery store and you can’t tell the difference between thyme and lettuce.”

“I bagged the groceries for middle aged white women, that’s not the same thing as personal shopping.” You grabbed a serving tray from the top shelf, started loading it up with glasses that were so clear you could fix your eyeliner in them. They were chilled, burned your fingertips.

“Taste,”

Anna held a burning hot spoon to your lips, but you fought off the heat in exchange for a swallow of broth and bite of potatoes that was absolutely heavenly. It pulled a moan from your throat that confirmed whatever she wanted from you. She beamed at you, clearly satisfied.

You opened the freezer and sifted around the innate coolness until your fingers wrapped around the bottle you were looking for. Kate had pulled it from the cellar hours before, picked it by it’s sweetness alone. She had an incredible pallet; one you’d never question. You did not want to know the source of the blood, it’s clearness giving away it’s age.

Anna gave you a wary glance and swallowed thickly. She paled at the sight before she turned her attention back to the meal. You considered her lucky. She’d told Eleanor time and time again that she would be more useful as a chef than as a two-bit servant. Too many people would miss her. An entire restaurant that she had to run.

Evenly, you picked up the tray and walked into the dining room. Conversation was flowing easily. Despite this being Kate’s home, she sat to the right of Eleanor, who was at the head of the table, peering down at the rest of the guests. Melina, Alexi and Yelena sat on one side of the table. Kate, Matthew, Karen, and Jack on the other.

While you were used to being ignored, Karen’s startlingly red eyes found you right away. She was new. The promise of blood, no matter how old and exquisite, was tantalizing nonetheless. You couldn’t imagine the pull, the way Matt moved his hand to her thigh to still her. It seemed to work in combination with his easy smile.

Eleanor had been furious the second he mentioned finding love. With the secretary in his law firm of all things. Kate, of course, was overjoyed. That invisible pressure of an arranged marriage between herself and Matt dissipated, and the dinners continued just like they always had. Civil and without the families crossing lines they shouldn’t in a city that was much too big for three dynasties of immortals.

Still, you made sure to set down Karen’s glass first and pour the sloshing red liquid to the hilt to avoid any conflict. You were quite skilled at your craft, moving with a fluidity that only years serving Kate had created and once every chilled glass was placed and filled, including Kate’s, you tucked the tray against your stomach and stepped to the wall behind her, placing the bottle on the cart, ready to refill anything that was drained.

“You know, Katherine. A proper pet knows how to serve their Master before anyone else in the house.” Eleanor jabbed.

You felt your fingers tighten against the silver of the tray but kept your jaw from clenching. It would be far too noticeable. Anna came in with her own cart and you peeled yourself from the wall. Aided her in setting the food out with a diligence that demanded it. Purposely, you started at Alexi.

“Mm, when was the last time you kept one longer than a week? I know they do test your patience. Thank you, Anna. This looks divine.” She gave the chefs hand a squeeze in thanks, if only to quell the paleness in her complexion at the shop talk. You didn’t like the way she swayed at the talk of death.

“The girls got a point.” Melina dipped her spoon into broth, and didn’t take a bite. “I have not seen a single servant twice in your home, it may not have turned heads a millennium ago, but now…”

You’d returned to your spot at the wall now, Anna to the kitchen to prepare dessert, you were sure. Your eyes often watched the flames in the hearth. It was better than the floor and the patterns on the carpet. You weren’t meant to be privy to conversations as such. But you could feels eyes boring into you.

Natalia Romanov was watching you. Fern-colored and sending chills and up and down your spine with ferocity. Nails dug into your palms and the dryness in your throat was unmatched. If it wouldn’t’ draw too much attention to yourself, you would have cleared your throat.

“That was not my point.”

Natalia took a pull from her drink, finally moving her gaze. “It may not have been your point, but it’s a fair one to bring up. You focus much of your attention on Kate’s pet, but I see you in my nightclub picking out your own, only to seek out a new one weeks later.”

“Bad for business.” Yelena tsked.

“Perhaps this should have been a private conversation between Katherine and myself.”

“No, no. I’d love to hear this.” Kate leaned forward, a devilish glint in her eyes. “If you see fit to find your charges at Apex then might as well explain yourself to the owners.”

It was satisfying to see Eleanor squirm, to dunk bread into her stew and soak up broth before shoving it into her mouth without a hint of elegance. She tore off a bit with the canines of her teeth and chewed to think over her answer. No one else filled the silence. There was no need to.

“Well, how else am I meant to fill my appetite? Matthew, we’re from different times. Less civil times. The world is changing and while Natalia works hard to foster certain… impulses at her club I am well above that.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Mrs. Bishop, but I have outgrown my boyish days of bloodlust.” Matt said.

“Fine then,” She huffed, taking another bite of bread, talking around it this time. “Just me then, that craves something more out of those we bring into our homes? You all can’t sit here and tell me that your primal instincts don’t take over from time to time. That your need to kill doesn’t overwhelm the need to feast.”

“The world is changing,” Alexi spoke in that loud and boisterous way that he always did. Yet somehow it was soft. As if the socialites statement had knocked him out of himself. “I cannot deny that it is in all of our natures to tear the throats out of those lesser than us. But it is also in our natures to love those that are more fragile, is it not?”

Jack drained his glass in two long gulps, signaling for you to refill it. You moved quickly, doing just that. “Some might argue that fragility breeds weakness, yes? Katherine has had y/n for what? Five years now. That’s certainly a weakness.”

“Quite the contrary,” Natalia signaled you herself, passing you her glass with much more elegance than Jack had. Kate tracked you with a darkness glowering in her eyes. Never angry at you, instead stewing at the subject matter of the conversation itself. “I would say that their bond strengthens y/n’s loyalty. You’ve never seen Katherine in a scandal have you? Nor have you seen anyone else at this table face the media. We all have people that not only have to fix it, but want to.”

“I’m missing your point, Natalia. I can very well pluck someone off the street and force them to do my bidding.”

“Y/n,” Matthew addressed you directly, your hand stopping just as you set the glass down for Natalia. They used your name in passing, but never addressed you directly. Never like this. You felt ice in your bones, breath stop cooly in your throat. “Answer me this, had Eleanor pulled you from Apex as you were, would you heed her word?”

You straightened, hands tightening around the million-dollar bottle of blood. Right away, your eyes found Kate for permission. To speak, to breathe, to stir up some type of rich conversation. Your thumb brushed over the lip of the bottle and smudged the brown blood over the skin.

Kate leaned back in her chair, swept over your form with her gray stare. She held confidence in you after all these years. Not from the nights when the two of you were tangled up in one another. She held all the power, so strong and nimble with your delicate body under her touch. Not as your life dwindled between her jaws and tongue and coolness. She trusted you. Her nod showed that. “Go ahead, pet.”

“No sir, I don’t think I would.”

Yelena let out a bark of a laugh and held her empty glass to you. “takoy upryamyy. Not all humans are the same, Eleanor. You used to be one yourself, you may treat them as expendable now, but I find my familiar to be quite useful. I’ve had them for twelve years and counting. They are family.”

“I see I’m outnumbered here, even by the help.” Eleanor spat out like venom.

Kate scoffed, shaking her head as you returned to your spot behind her, flush against the wall. Dessert was soon served and distracted the conversation for just a moment. Natalia had flashed a smile or two your way as Eleanor glowered, the drinks switching from brewed blood to a lighter campaign. You’d rubbed the spot of blood on the hem of your pants, trying hard to wipe away the remnants.

“Give her to me, then.” Eleanor cut down the cross section of lemon meringue that Anna had set out. She hadn’t looked up, much too focused on the way it was congealed. “If all of you are so concerned about keeping two-bit humans out of my claws, I might as well have Katherine’s pet.”

An eerie silence fell over the dinner table. Not even the logs in the fireplace wanted to shift. Jack would usually dampen Eleanors blows with a bit of humor or rational. This time he was stunned into silence. His wife had a tendency to push things too far with you, but she’d never overtly suggested that Kate give you up. Especially when the ending of that trade would certainly result in your death.

She’d tried to get Natalia to take you, and that had failed. Poking and prodding at her daughter in front of an audience was the next best thing. She mistook Kate for being weak over and over again in the last five years. If she thought that the other families being here would soften the blows, she was wrong. You could almost smell it on her.

Eleanors’ eyes zeroed in on you. “Come here. I want a better look at you.”

Kate held her hand up as if you were going to obey Eleanor in the first place. It was a show of brawn. Her multitude of rings caught the candlelight, her other hand tightening around the handle of her steak knife. The chair creaked when she leaned forward. “Pray tell, do you recall the conversation we had the other week?”

“I have many conversations with you, Kate, you must be more specific.”

Melina stabbed the tip of her pie with her fork, entirely too amused with the conversation. Karen had followed the entire exchange on the edge of her seat. She’d sat through many court cases, could feel the tension amp up like electricity on her fingertips.

In a swift movement, Kate had plunged the steak knife into the center of Eleanors hand up to the hilt. The crunch of tendon and bone was drowned out by Eleanors scream of shock. Kate had nailed her to the mahogany with sheer strength. To her credit, she schooled her face into nothing more than a grimace after a choke of air. Kate’s hand didn’t let up on the utensil.

“Damn,” Yelena scoffed. Natalia elbowed her in the ribs.

“Perhaps you lack the emotional maturity to form a bond with a familiar of your own but that does not give you the right to take mine. Nor does it excuse your pitiful posturing. We did discuss respecting my property in my own home, didn’t we, mother?”

“I hardly see-“

She turned the knife, another squelching crack. “Didn’t we mother?”

“Yes Katherine! I apologize for insulting your mutt, can you please remove your fine China from my hand before you do some permanent damage. We have an image to uphold.”

Kate’s eyes darted around to the table. Their image was upheld just fine. Jack had smoothed out his cloth napkin until it was creased halfway to Sunday. The Romanov family was thoroughly entertained, and Karen was savoring the last swallow of blood in her bourbon glass. It had gone warm by now.

She pulled the knife from the table smoothly, set it back in place and took a bite of her pie as if nothing happened. Eleanor tamped the bleeding down with a cloth napkin that matched the deep red color of her own blood. She glowered at you. Something that was par for the course.

“This is good pie.” Matthew commented, poked at the vanilla whip. “Need the recipe.”

“Mm, good luck getting that out of Anna.” Kate replied.

He scoffed, something nervous, something that broke the tension in the air. He mentioned Kate’s interrogation skills and everyone at the table, with the exception of Eleanor Bishop, burst into laughter.

The force of water kept your feet from swaying at a normal speed. You watched the blurred image of your own toes in a daze, sipping at a glass of whiskey and reveling in the burn. An odd mix of senses between the frigid night and the heated pool. The alcohol settled like a hot brick in your stomach. All of these sensations reminded you of how utterly human and expendable you were. It was glorious. It was fleeting.

The heavy weight of a blanket being draped over your shoulders pulled you from your lack of thought. You hadn’t heard the back door slide open, nor Kate’s soft steps. She pulled her shoes off and rolled up the legs of her pants before dropping beside you, close enough for you to nail her spiced scent.

“You could catch your death out here. Weather like this.”

You frowned up at the sky. It was easy to smell the ice in the air. Clouds were gathering and there was snow collected at the edges of the property, ice on the leaves. But the wind had settled. Your breath puffed out in smoke. Kate’s was much more sporadic. Perhaps if you stayed out all night with your toes damp, maybe you would.

“Just needed a moment. I’ll clean up.”

“Please, sweetheart. I’m not entirely useless. I’ve done that myself. Even scrubbed the blood from the table.”

You couldn’t stop the look of disbelief that you pinned Kate with. She was smiling devilishly at you, plucking the glass from your hands and taking a sip before grimacing. Whiskey was not her drink of choice, and it struck you that she kept it in the house for your benefit and not her own. Little acts of kindness that did not escape your keen eye.

“This is nasty, how do you drink it?” She thrust the glass back in your hand, took in your raised eyebrow and frowned. “Okay. Silent hint taken.”

Another lapse of silence before her raspy voice filled it once more.

“I would never let her have you.”

“Kate,”

Her hand was on your chin, not something rough, but something guiding and strong. “No, I need you to know this. For centuries my mother has gotten everything she wants by means of injustice. She’s taken everything from me in terms of manipulation. I’ve never cared to fight before. But that’s all I want to do now.”

She dropped her hand into her lap, her head falling with it, a frown etching it’s way onto her features. If you weren’t so close you wouldn’t be able to hear her. To smell the way the chlorine mixed deliciously with the blood on her breath.

“She thinks you a weakness and perhaps you are.”

In one quick movement, with the same swiftness that she’d used at dinner, she was on top of you. Your back against the cold of cement and her hand cradling the back of your head. The glass of bourbon spilled across the patio. A gasp escaped you. She was warm compared to the nights frigid temperatures. Her knee was slotted at your core. Her canines glossed in the moonlight. She panted out in feral growls.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” Her groan mixed with your own as you arched into her. “I can’t keep pretending.”

“Pretending,” You puffed out, exposing your throat to her. “what are you pretending?”

She hid her face there, nosed along your jaw but didn’t bite. You wanted her to bite. Wanted the familiar extasy of her teeth deep in your jugular. Instead, you felt the wetness of her tears, molten hot. Your fingers bravely found their way to her hair, carding through them as you held her closer to you.

“You make me weak.” She repeated into your skin. “You make me remember what it feels like to be loved. And it’s all the more fucked because it’s by my own design. It’s not by your will. Perhaps you should go with the Romanovs, if not to break my relentless hold on you.”

“Your hold on me?” You scoffed, “Katherine Bishop, I don’t think you could extract me from your veins if you tried.”

She glowered up at you, staring from between your breasts with the petulant pout of a child. You swept some hair behind her ear. She clearly didn’t believe you, fingers toying with a necklace that she had given you a year ago with her own initials engraved in the purest of gold. A marking. A claim.

“Kate, you gave me purpose. I fought you tooth and nail on it because part of me figured you’d give up on me just like everyone else had. But you never did. Five years later and you still haven’t. Eleanor might see that as weakness, but I’ve never felt anything stronger.” Your voice had faded to a whisper, the affection in her gray eyes undeniable. Breathtaking. “If I didn’t want to be here, I would have found a way to push you too far, trust me.”

There was still doubt there, something lingering. Something that you figured yourself bold enough to kiss away. You pulled her up towards you, hungrily pressing your lips against her own. She was certainly stronger, but much more pliable in this moment, allowing you to lick into her mouth and savor the tinny taste. The sharpness of her teeth. You swallowed her whimper, the vibrations in her chest.

“You don’t have to pretend.” You pulled away, reveled at how she chased your lips. “I haven’t been.”

She moaned, grinding her knee down against your core again. “Don’t get so cocky, pet. You might have me wrapped around your finger, but I still own you.”

And oh, how she did. Your heartrate picked up at the very statement, thighs rubbing together. She heard all of it. Her signature smirk overtaking her crestfallen expression. The Katherine Bishop you knew and loved, and served as a faithful familiar may have been in love with you, but you were equally as smitten.

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