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dustyrkives · 20 days ago

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PAIRING: GP! Ada Wong x Fem reader __________________ WARNINGS: vampire x human, bl00d drinking, religious undertones, religious guilt, age gap (duh), Ada can turn into both male and female, biting, mating, breeding, nightmares, sleep-walking, horror, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breath-play, slow burn, enemies to–???, vampire turning. I think that's about it? –––––––––––––––– WORDCOUNT: 9,169 (this was self-indulgent, oops 😭😭😭💀) __________________ A/N: I'M SORRY THIS TOOK LONG HUHU. I was stuck during the drafting process and it drove me insane. Sorry for keeping you all waiting; here's the fic I promised!

Also, this is no longer project kafka as I mentioned. And Ada isn't a bioweapon–more like a vampire succubus.

Also Profanus Devorator means Profane Devourer in latin.

There’s a saying that if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back at you.

Tonight–you learn such a proverb–in trembling hands intertwined in prayer, knees planted against the tiles of your room, a thin sheen of sweat coats your already-pale skin. In your peripheral vision, in the darkness of your room, something–someone, stood in your room. The atmosphere weighs heavy, temperature cold; the hairs in the back of your neck stood while your organs felt as though they’ve turned inwards. Your eyes didn’t dare leave the window as the heavy stench of earth, leather and smoke filled your room, restricting the air from your lungs.

The intruder takes a step towards you, your heart plummets, body cold with trepidation as it takes another step, and another, and another. Slow and unnaturally loud as it stops behind you.

A quiet sob leaves your lips as a cold hand slowly grasps the back of your neck, pressing your mother’s necklace against your skin, its pointed talons gently digging against your flesh. A deep, grating voice pierces through the air, you feel it stab into your soul.

“Excitavisti me ex somno aeterno. Nunc mihi iuratus es.” It rasps,“visne te mihi devovere?”

Your jaws–locked, voice–absent in terror. You nod.

The hand painstakingly releases your neck, but its claws scratches your skin; despite the pain, you don't flinch; terror keeps you numb as lips press against the available skin of your shoulder. Cold and unapologetic before a strong gust of wind devastates your room, leaving through your window.

Your body finally remembered its owner as you fell to the ground, your palms supporting your weight as your heart hammered against your ribcage, a thunderous beat reverberated through your body. Your hand clutched at your chest, fingers trembling as if trying to prevent your heart from bursting out of your ribs; vision blurring.

But something was amiss.

Your hand scrambles around your chest. Your necklace was gone. Torn away from your neck.

That night, you were only sixteen years old.

Your eyes stare blankly at the window from within the library watching aimlessly as strangers pass by. The sky was rather dark despite it being only four in the afternoon; but it doesn’t matter. Hours pass by, you greet customers, assist them with their preferred media in your town’s local bookstore.

Tonight, you continue your monotonous pattern of assisting customers, arranging books, recording sales and cleaning aisles before your shift ends around eight in the evening. Eyes downcast, your steps measured as you walk your way home to your apartment. The town is silent with a few cars driving in the road, their headlights illuminating your dull path. For years, you’ve been repeating the same routine; get up before six, go to work as the cashier, go home by eight. You’ll continue this pattern–saving enough money so you can finally move into the city and leave the dull town behind. Where? You’ll cross that bridge when you have finally had enough. Your growth to adulthood was rather bleak–you refuse to count the strange encounter, and yet it haunts you even at your waking moments, causing you to space out.

You know every individual in town but made very few friends–they’ve moved elsewhere now, wanting for more opportunities that the town couldn’t offer, leaving you with its barren offers yet your prospects were enough.

You absently stare at the window again, tuning out the voices of your customers as you scan and charge their books.

“My dad told me that someone purchased a private property near the end of town.” Says a loud customer as they wait in line while you scan another customer’s magazine. “He said she paid him a lot for his commission too.” “She must be well-off then?” It was their turn in the line as the two friends continued to converse. “Oh, she is.” the man coughs as he hands you his money.

“She’ll probably come to town tomorrow to finally move in. If you ask me, a woman of her wealth is better off living in the city. But who knows, maybe she wants a change of scenery.”

“Still though,” the other friend chuckles, “there are better options.” Your lips curl upwards as you silently agree with them as they leave the store.

You woke up, parched.

A silent groan escapes your lips as you turn in your sheets, fishing for your phone on the nightstand before checking the time and squinting against the bright light glaring as you read the time.

2:45 AM

You exhale through your nose and get up, only using your phone’s light to guide your path. Quiet steps echo in your dark apartment as you make your way to the fridge, a yawn escapes your lips before you freeze in your place.

The awfully familiar rich smell of earth, leather and smoke fills the kitchen and it squeezes the air out of your lungs; your body stiffens as the hair behind your neck raises. Your gaze locks with the window. The apartment was surrounded by trees–it was difficult to see through the darkness.

Except for those bright red, beady eyes.

Your yawn turns into a silent scream of unimaginable terror.

It wasn’t just hanging by the trees. No. It was right there outside your window, eyes peering close and deep, then the sound of something sharp scratching your window, the grating, piercing noise makes your eyes twitch and your body shudders with discomfort before the noise stops, and the sound of strong winds hitting against your window, and the beady eyes disappear into the darkness.

The stench vanishes, and you double over, gasping for air, eyes wide as your phone drops, nearly missing your toes.

“What the fuck?” You gulp as beads of cold sweat form down your back–uncomfortable. Your body trembles as you stand up, feet rushing to the window next to your fridge, and sure enough… there was a long deep scratch outside your window; the urge for drinking was gone, along with the creature that visited your humble abode.

The next few days were a blur, it was as if your body was on autopilot, you’re doing what you routinely do, but you feel absent. That includes waking up in the early hours of the morning, between two to three in the morning, always parched, and your eyes would always look out into your window to see those beady eyes staring pointedly at you. Like your daily routine, it became monotonous; draining.

Oh, but that was only the beginning.

“Oh, how beautiful you’ve grown…” Says the distorted voice, it was difficult to tell if it was a man or a woman. You remain stiff in your bed, hands shakily gripping your blanket as cold sweat rolls down your forehead, eyes trained at those same red eyes that have been haunting you in the early hours of the morning.

A distant, shrilling chuckle echoes through your room. Your insides churn as the creature stays in the shadows, yet it circles your bed.

“It has been a decade, you’re still the same terrified girl I’ve laid eyes upon.” It coos. “Why is that, hm?”

A shudder leaves your lips as an outline of a figure steps away from the darkness, yet it remains obscured. “Do you fear me? Am I that terrifying to look at?”

Slow, tantalising footsteps echo in your room towards you, then it stops at the foot of your bed–your organs have turned inwards again as your whole body trembles. The creature disappears from the shadows, only for it to appear above you, its head peering down closely at you… which is weird because your headboard is against the wall… there is no space for that thing to stand behind your bed and look at you at that angle, red eyes staring down at your own. The entity slowly blinks before pulling back, the shadows envelope their figure… and you are left with an unsettling silence.

The stench was gone, even when that–thing was in your room. Your body then begins to sink into your bed. A wave of panic rises as you let out interrupted screams as you try to scramble–claw your way out. It was no use… the sheets have already swallowed you whole.

Your body wakes with a start, dizzy, confused and with the urge to vomit as the fresh smell of wet earth fills your nose.

You aren’t in your bedroom… and sure as hell you’re not in your apartment as a throbbing headache shoots throughout your skull as you stumble back before balancing yourself on the cold, wet grass–just behind your apartment. The skies are gray yet again. Atmosphere, cold and foreboding as if it witnessed your predicament before you gained consciousness.

“How the fuck did I get here?” You stammer, body cold and weak as you clutch your chest… feeling a damp spot as you retract your hand only to be met by crimson liquid. You look down at your chest, your top was slightly unbuttoned as blood oozes out from the pierced skin–bite marks just above your right breast.

A shaky exhale leaves your lips as you lean your bloody hand against the wall of your building while the other clutches your bloody shirt, your steps–slow and unsteady as you walk back into your apartment with the resolve to call in sick for today…

The creature didn’t haunt you after that…

Yet–no.

Your face scrunches in disgust as you look outside your window, nails digging against your thighs as a soft sob leaves your lips. An uncomfortable feeling gnaws your insides as your mind cruelly berates you.

Disgusting… How could you long for something so profane?

This is sickness.

This is shame.

Repent

As darkness swallows your living room, you swallow harshly as you join your hands in prayer. It had been long since you last prayed–you were only sixteen years old when the creature came into your room whilst you were praying… and strangely enough, it was also the last time you wore your mother’s necklace before it was also taken away from you–in a way, it also took away your peace. Ever since then, you stopped with your prayers. Yet that didn’t stop the heavy feeling of monotony that looms above you every single day of your life.

Perhaps, it’ll be different now, that comfort and reassurance will come–just as you have prayed back then, only this time, it won’t be the creature that answered. It will be God.

But there is none.

Regardless of how earnest your prayers were, the looming heaviness remains, and a restless feeling gnaws at you once again as you bow your head, your hands purchase the hairs on your side as you let out a shaky exhale.

“Please,” You whimper, though not knowing why. “Please…”

After minutes of sitting still, you fix your posture; hands tugging your shirt to see the healed bite wound on your breast and oddly… felt comfort.

Regardless of lethargy, you return to work the next day.

Your movements, sluggish, eyesight blurry as the cycle begins. “I thought you’d be away for another day?” The manager mused as she leaned away from the counter. You can only shoot her with a smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I feel restless when I’m doing nothing.”

Which was true.

The sweet old lady chuckles and pats your shoulder. “Well, I’ll leave the rest to you, kiddo. Glad to have you back.” Your eyes didn’t leave her retreating figure until she entered her office, leaving you to manage the cashier as more customers began browsing the aisles. A long sigh escapes your lips as you crane your neck to the window, the skies are bright, perhaps a positive sign of things to come.

Hours passed by, and it was nearly closing time–you were recording sales again when the chimes rattle, alerting that a new customer has entered.

“We close in ten minutes!” You call out, not taking your eyes off the record book.

A rich feminine tone reaches your ears. “Well, if that’s the case–then I’ll need your help.”

You finally tear your eyes away from the book, your breath hitches.

Before you, stood a woman no older than thirty, black short hair styled to a sleek bob, her bangs frame her face elegantly, with a subtle, side-swept look.. Sharp, intelligent eyes caged by monolids, her complexion shames the moon, her features: sharp and well-defined. Her lips are full, adorned with a subtle red. She wore a perfectly pressed black leather trench coat and knee-high black boots. Everything about her seemed precisely tailored from head to toe, but when your eyes meet hers; you are met with a strange sensation.

You’ve never seen her in town before.

“W-what can I help you with?” You wince at your tone as the older woman looks around before her lips curl to a subtle smirk. “I was wondering if you can point me to the classical section?”

“Just by the hall, to the left–”

“I would prefer it if you take me there.” She interrupts as her striking brown eyes pin you.

You swallow before nodding, “Sure… right this way.” But as you walk past her to take lead, a sharp pain shoots through your right breast–you instinctively clutch it with a soft gasp. The stranger tilts her head, “Are you alright, miss?”

“Y-yeah,” You gulp before fixing your posture. “Uh, right this way.” Though your hand remains clutched to your chest as you both wind down the aisle. Your breath is uneven. “Here we are.” Your hand gestures at the plethora of books housed on shelves.

“Thank you,” Says the woman as her eyes flit to your name tag. “What a beautiful name.” She purrs as her slender, well-manicured hands grab the spine of the book. You nod wordlessly before turning away from the woman to go to the cashier. Her footsteps follow behind you, slow and tantalizing.

Your movements have once again become sluggish, uncoordinated, vision blurring as a heavy feeling looms on your head.

What’s happening?

It felt as if you were not in control of your body, everything felt distant–numb before the stranger’s voice shot through. Snapping you back to reality. Her face inches above yours as her arms secured your figure. The alluring scent of earth, leather, smoke and amber filling your senses–your stomach churns, heat filling your cheeks as she slowly blinks at you.

“You alright?” The woman mused. “You nearly face-planted against the floor.”

“Yeah,” You stammer as you place distance between her and you. “I’m alright. Thanks for the save.” A nervous laugh escapes your lips. The older woman hums as you two reach the cashier, finishing the transaction with an awkward note. Before the woman takes her purchase, she flashes you a juxtaposing smile before leaving.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of her until the door closes, and the chimes ring.

The torment returns.

It was two in the morning yet again. Throat dry, your phone used as a torch to guide your path to your fridge–those blasted, red beady eyes locked at your figure. But instead, it was no longer staring from outside your window… it’s inside. Sitting in one of your chairs by the dining table. Your body feels cold all over, muscles constricting–stiff and rigid. Your heart erratically beats; breath at a stand-still as the suffocating aroma fills the air: earth, smoke and leather.

Yet, beneath it all–warmth.

Uncomfortable warmth.

Trepidation drips down your forehead as the creature stands up, stalking towards you and away from the shadows. The black tendrils, trying to coax its master to remain in darkness, but the creature ignores it as it extends its sharp talons towards your face, a futile whimper and a sob leaves your lips as your stomach twists in fear, vision blurring as the stench singes your nostrils; flinching as both of its palms touch your face, it was so cold that it felt like your skin was on fire as you tremble in the creature’s touch before it pulls away.

On cue, your lips let out a loud gasp as the stillness that once possessed your body frees you; falling to your knees as you gasp for bated breath. Slowly, you look up to see the creature holding a necklace–your eyes widen as the creature dangles it in front of you, a piercing chuckle echoes in your room.

“Your necklace was losing your scent…” The creature purrs as it inhales your necklace, almost reverently. “Has anyone told you… you smell of roses?”

It circles around you, like a beast surveying its prey. “Sweet and delicate.”

You shakily reach for your necklace, but the creature coos and lifts its hand away from your reach. “No. It is mine now.”

A soft whimper leaves your lips, unable to form words of protest. The creature cups your face, beckoning you to look at… her.

Your pupils constrict as a subtle smirk graces her features. “What’s wrong?” Her voice, rich, feminine… and steely. “If I remember correctly, you seem to like it back in the bookstore.”

The woman tilts her head, “Or do you prefer…” You flinch as the sound of squelching flesh and twisting bones fills your ears, then a masculine voice. “This?”

Your breath hitches at the sight of the woman–now turned man, he shared the familiar features of the woman as if they were siblings, though his stature is tall, imposing. Yet just as beautiful.

And finally, you find your voice.

“W-who are you?”

The imposter grins, “I am what you have been refusing.”

“No,” Your voice chokes with shame as the man’s eyes flashed red.

“Oh, but yes…” He sneers. “I am what you so-desperately desire.”

“No!”

A loud snarl echoes in your apartment, your heart constricts as a pathetic sob leaves your lips. “Yes I am!” The creature huffs as it returns to the form of the woman back in the bookstore. “You will learn to accept that you are mine just as I am yours.” She husks, “You pledged yourself to me after all, pretty girl. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?” She wipes the thin sheen of sweat coating your face.

No.

“Who are you?”

What are you?

The woman chuckles. “I’ve had many names… but you can call me Ada. Ada Wong.” Ada smiles, “Or if you prefer a man–Adam.” Ada narrows her eyes before sighing. “I’ve overstayed my welcome.” She looks down at your top, “But first, a bite.”

Your eyes widen as she yanks your collar, her strength lifting you from the ground and popping the buttons from your top as her canines extend to sharp fangs. A shriek leaves your lips as her fangs pierce the skin of your chest, her other hand muffles your mouth as it drinks your crimson of life, the painful sting ebbs to bliss as your eyes roll back, your breath shuddering as a soft moan leaves your lips–shame follows as your body warms with delight as your hands grasp her coat while the other tugs at her short hair.

The creature–Ada, growls softly, creating gentle vibration spreading across your skin before pulling away gently. You shudder and moan in woe with a touch of bliss. She runs her tongue flat against the oozing wound, cleaning the blood that pools around your skin before your eyelids grow heavy, and you slip from consciousness.

You wake up the next morning on the floor.

A pained groan leaves your lips as you get up on the floor, wincing as you feel the sticky texture of dried blood on your shirt. You feel lightheaded, dizzy and nauseous. You tug on your shirt, cringing at the stain of your blood–there it is, a bite mark on the center of your chest, the bleeding has stopped, only the stains and wound remain. You grab the edge of the table for support, knees wobbling as you stand. The sun has already risen, but you don’t feel its warmth as you stare blankly at it while it fills your dining area with light.

You look down at your wound, the pads of your fingers brush against them softly–warmth.

And this time, shame dwindles.

You saw her–him. Again. There’s no mistaking it.

This time, he changed to casual wear: red button up shirt, black tapered trousers and shoes–he kept the black leather trench coat. His expression neutral as he aimlessly wanders around the aisle, his striking brown eyes stare at the covers before stopping by the History section.

You eye him warily as the other customers, especially girls, nudge their friends and indirectly point at him with a shy smile or grin.

A soft frown graces your features as you absently scan and charge another customer before handing them their change. Your eyes follow his slender, graceful hands as he opens a random History book. His daytime appearance seemed to belong in his surroundings–calm, unassuming.

Compared to the nights the creature has haunted you.

Fed on you.

A chill shoots down your spine, the wounds singe. You bite your lower lip to muffle the pained groan that threatened to leave your lips as your hand instinctively clutched your chest while the other hand palms the smooth edge of the deck for support.

“Everything alright?” Your ears perk upon hearing his voice. It’s not as grating as it was previously, instead it was smooth, velvety and juxtaposing. Slowly, you turn your head towards him. He was in front of the counter, he was close enough for you to smell him; smoke, leather, wood, lavender and nutmeg. A knowing smirk plays on his lips as he eyes you.

Subtle, not overpowering.

“Y-you,” You stammer as he places a book atop the counter.

“I’m purchasing this book.”

Your eyes shoot down at the thick book–history. You peer over his shoulder, no one follows after him as your eyes slowly meet his; your throat dries as he flashed them red at you–you snap your eyes away from him, nails digging against the counter as your heart leaps to your throat. He observes this–a faux disdainful tone fills his voice.

“Your reaction wounds me, sweetheart.” He purrs. “Is this how you treat your customers?”

Your jaw locks as your hands automatically scramble for the book and quickly scan it. “Th-that’ll be $11.48.”

He hums and hands you the bill, you visibly wince as his deathly cold fingers brush against yours. “Keep the change.” He tells you; his eyes following your rushed movements before you hand him a paper bag containing his book. The creature doesn’t take it.

Instead, he leans against the counter, close enough for you to see a necklace wrapped around his neck–your necklace. “I think it suits me better than you, no?” He grins, not bothering to hide his fangs as the gleam menacingly beneath the fluorescent lights. Your throat tightens and you shudder as your eyes trail lower–the blasted creature unbutton three, allowing you to see the smooth, defined chest beneath the shirt.

He chuckles at this while you once again look away, a cheeks warm and your stomach churns–shame on you.

The former tilts his head, “Why deny your feelings, sweet girl?”

You didn’t dare look at him and stayed silent. The man huffs and takes the paper bag and turns away from you, “You will learn to accept me.” He peers over his shoulder, “And when that happens, it will be the best thing you did.”

With that, he leaves. Though his words echo in your brain like a broken record as your day finishes–though it was a blur.

You didn’t walk home immediately after your shift.

Instead, you opted to take a walk–not exactly ideal considering your parents have warned you about the dangers of the night; you just didn’t find it in you to heed anymore. Hands in your coat, your eyes close as the cool breeze grazes your skin, even when you wear a coat–the chill nips at your bones. You continue in your path, your vision blurry as you allow your feet to take you wherever they seem fit–you know your way around town after all. You wander aimlessly, your footsteps echo the empty streets until it echoes no more. Only the soft patch of footfalls against grass and dirt. Your vision clears–you’re in the park.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, neck craning to see if you’re not the only one in the park, but as you look up, your eyes widens with shock, your blood runs cold and the color drains from your face while the air changes around you–heavy with dark foreboding.

You look up, and your jaw slacks.

There, at the apex of the lamp post, Ada was crouching. Her dark hair leaning forward, only allowing you to see her bright crimson eyes, skin pale as the moon. However, it’s not her presence that sets you off.

It’s the dark, long cape that blocks the light of the lamp–

Wait, that isn’t a cape…

Wings.

Those were huge, bat-like wings–it was twice the size of her body.

Her wings raise, blocking the moonlight–wide and imposing before it morphs into her black leather trench coat. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She mused, her voice–unlike in your nightmares–smooth, sultry and deceivingly sweet. “Care for a walk?”

Your other foot takes a step back, and Ada’s gaze sharpens. Her smooth voice fills with absolute command.

“You’d do well to say yes to me, my sweet rose.”

She gracefully lands on the ground, not a single speck of dirt on her.

“It will do you good,” A ghost of a smirk graces her lips. “And you will learn to bend to your nature.”

A soft scoff leaves your lips, “What nature?”

She walks past you, “There’s no point in asking when you know it.” Ada looks over her shoulder, “Intimately.”

You tear your gaze away from her as the familiar uncomfortable feeling stirs in your gut. Ada’s voice fills the empty park. “Come along now.” You let out a shaky exhale as you follow the older woman, your hands ball into rigid fists in your coat pockets as you heed her.

“This town is rather peaceful, no?” Ada narrows her eyes at your silence. “Speak, girl. I am not here to harm you.”

“Yet why drink from me? Harm me?” You blurt. Your organs feel like dropping as Ada turns her whole body towards you. “It is our way of feeding–it has always been like that for centuries.” The short-haired woman smirks, “And it doesn’t harm you… it brings you pleasure.”

You snort. Disbelief.

But deep down, you know it’s true, and Ada merely chuckles darkly at your refusal. “You are a stubborn woman.”

“Don’t poke fun at me!” You burst, voice tight and distant. “For years, you felt like a heavy blanket–stinking of smoke, earth and leather.” You sharply inhale, “You have done nothing but weigh me down and make me miserable!”

“Miserable?” Ada chuckles, her voice dropping an octave lower. “Fool.” She then disperses like a black smoke and appears in front of you, a startled gasp leaves your lips as you turn to run but her hand grabs your wrist in an iron-like grip before yanking you back to her. Ada’s red eyes glowered dangerously down at you whilst you trembled in her hold as her distorted, cold and steely voice filled your ears.

“I saved you.” She hisses, her fangs barred. “Have you forgotten why you prayed that night?”

A guttural growl reverberates from her throat, “You prayed for companionship. You prayed to quell the loneliness that haunts you from your childhood. Your god did nothing.” She leans down to your ears, leaving nothing but goosebumps and a chill running down your spine.

“But I did.” A pregnant pause, “Can’t you see the efforts I have done for you? I kept you away from harm. I have made myself beautiful for you; to be an object of your ire and yet you shun me as if I am your shame.”

“Because you are!” You sobbed as your knees wobble. If it wasn’t for the nocturnal being that held you up, you would’ve fallen to the ground. “You’re my shame! A repulsive desire–you make me sick–!”

A snarl silences you and you whimper and avoid her piercing eyes. Her fangs gleam with danger, her voice–dangerously low. “And yet you’ve called for me, sweet rose.” She rasps, “And I have come. For centuries, a lonesome creature like me slumbers in the darkness–until you woke me. Not many people can do that.”

A whimper leaves your lips as she grasps your jaw and tilts your chin upwards, her voice returns to normal. “I am an impatient creature.” She inches closer, the tips of her lips nearly touching yours. “And I have endured for you–waited for you the moment your skin has blessed my lips that night. I have craved for nothing but you.”

You stifle a gasp, “You crave my blood.”

“Oh, but much more.” Ada pulls you closer to her frame, “Your heart.”

A scoff leaves your lips as your palms rest against her upper chest, “I don’t think something like you can love.” A soft purr vibrates in her chest, she releases you from her hold. “It’s beneath me. I can only devour such an appetite of emotions.” The creature gives you a well-practiced smile, “But I possess like any man or woman towards the things they value–they keep.”

The smile drops as she looks up at the moon, “The hour is late. You must head home.”

“Y-you won’t feed from me?”

“No,” She answers immediately as she slowly holds up her palm. Black smoke envelopes you, your chest tightens as you try to move away from ensnaring darkness–but it was futile, even though she has said it.

“It is useless to fight it.” Her voice becomes distant, as your eyelids grow heavy and the darkness swallows you.

You wake with a gasp.

You sit up, eyes looking around your surroundings–you’re in your bed, in your apartment; your hand tugs on your shirt to see if there’s any new bite marks.

And true to Ada’s words, there are none. You let out a breath and look outside your window–daylight kisses your room and for once, you felt its warmth.

Ada didn’t come to the bookstore today; and neither has she made any appearance at night–even in your nightmares… though you don’t know if they can be considered nightmares anymore.

Regardless, you long for her to come to you again as she did every night, and as you realize this thought.

The weight of shame looms no longer.

The creature’s absence is a hollow pit to your soul.

You find yourself staying up longer than usual. Each day later than the last. You find yourself walking around the town, to the park where you had last conversed with her, hoping to see her perched up a tree branch or atop the lamppost.

But you were wrong.

Oh–so wrong.

As days pass by, you find yourself restless without the creature’s nightly visits, hell–hauntings, even. They had once filled you with dread and terror, and now, all you feel is longing.

This is your new torment–her absence.

For every visit, every nightmare–they were a macabre fix to your dull monotonous life. And now she is gone–such a feeling of relief was fleeting.

You lay there in your bed, the pads of your fingers brush against the bite mark on your skin–caressing the remnants of her presence. You turn to the side before curling in your sheets, a shaky sigh leaving your lips before you whisper her name; a prayer.

Yet you are met with an empty dream once again. You look at your dinner blankly–just canned food and rice. You didn’t have the mood to cook nor order takeout, you merely scooped five spoonfuls of food before deciding to retreat to your bedroom to freshen up and wait for the nightmare to flood your dreams despite knowing that it will be blank just as any other night. As you twist and turn in your bed, your thoughts keep you up, forcing you to deal with the reality that she may not come back–all because you couldn’t accept your nature.

Your unnatural longing. Desire.

You hug your knees to your chest, heart heavy with emotions you refuse to acknowledge.

No, not yet.

As the clock strikes at four in the morning; you finally have fallen asleep.

You wake up just in time once again, however, your energy plunges as you do your same exact routine. Take a bath, freshen up and go to work, ignoring the taste of bile crawling up to your mouth. Every step feels like taxing, and every breath you take was a chore as your vision blurs, yet your feet take you to where you have programmed it to be. The shouts of the outside world felt rather distorted–fleeting.

Today, you chose to be the prisoner of your own mind, allowing your eyes to be as far away as your thoughts while your arms and legs kept you rooted to reality only when it demands for you. Real world be damned.

The creature left you in peace, but it felt as if its absence only left you in pieces.

Anger, bitterness, then there it is again; longing.

You would caress the wounds she had left–but not even those stay long. They were healing.

And you don’t want them to heal.

Without thinking–you pick on the healing tissue, peeling it away and hissing softly as you pluck out the healed skin. Automatically, blood began to ooze but that doesn’t deter you. After peeling the first–you came for the second, then the third. The same can be said for your injury above your right breast.

You slept with a bloody shirt on; that didn’t bother you as twisted comfort warms your body. This is enough, this will suffice.

But for how long?

Not for long

And so was her absence.

Three days after peeling your bite mark, just as you’re about to fall into a dreamless sleep–darkness enveloped you.

The smell of smoke, leather and earth fills your lungs as you open your eyes. Darkness.

Your heart leaps, a soft joyous gasp leaves your lips as you snap your head around. This darkness is familiar to you; your heart has already mastered it. “Ada!” You croak, the echoes delay as you walk aimlessly–deeper into the darkness until you see an opening, there she is, standing with her back turned towards your figure. Her stature–tall and poised and wrapped in mystique. Suddenly, the stench of death didn’t reek.

Instead, it smells of rose, leather, amber and blossom.

Inviting.

She slowly turns to you, her countenance tainted by cracks on her skin as her eyes glow a sultry red as she raises her hand, beckoning you to take it while the moonlight kisses her figure. You let out a shaky breath as you take a step towards her, the shadows weigh heavy, as if trying to ward you away from her. As you slowly walk towards her, her form distorts from man to woman, woman to man, the warning whispers distort as the line between shame and longing becomes nothing but a blur as you throw yourself towards her, a sob of relief leaves your lips as your body lights with warmth as you tighten your embrace.

A purr reverberates from Ada’s chest as her hand caresses your back slowly before her claws dig through your clothes as she leans down, her cold breath fans against your ear.

“I told you… you will accept me and accept your nature.”

She snakes her hand up and tugs the back of your hair. You quietly gasp as you stare up at her male counterpart and his blasted open shirt, exposing the cracked skin that mar his skin. Sitting at the base of his neck is your missing necklace.

“See what you do to me?” He hisses as his voice becomes feminine. “See the lengths I’ve gone through to hold back?”

Ada returns to her female form and growls as her eyes flash while she shows you her fangs, bright and red at the pointed tip before she clamps it shut.

“I am a patient and enduring creature.” She says brusquely. “And I will finally have what is mine.” She brushes the tips of her lips against your neck, a soft whine vibrates on your throat as she gently pecks the available skin while her other hand trails down your arm before grasping your wrist and bringing it to her lips.

“I’ve asked you this before, when you were nothing but an innocent child praying for companionship, for warmth…” She looks down at you, “Will you pledge yourself to me, my sweet rose?” She kisses the pulse that beats in your wrist.

“I may not give you warmth and nor can I love, but as I’ve said before…I possess you like that of a spouse.”

A ghost of a smile graces her beautiful but eroding features.

“For weeks, you have refused me. Now look at you,” She coos, “Tell me, do you refuse me, still?”

“No,” You concede, and oh–what a relaxing feeling as the creature graces you with a smile full of teeth. You feel elated, free from the heavy loom of shame and guilt, you surge forward, lips meeting hers for a searing kiss; it is full of need. You swallow the vampire’s moans as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss, consummating your pledge.

You pull back for air as Ada’s once poised features become feral as her eyes darkened and yanks your collar, exposing your neck for her.

“By this pact,” She snarls softly, “You… are mine. Forever.”

She then sinks her fangs into your neck, you let out a pained yell but Ada muffles it with her free hand. Your knees buckle and you lose balance, but your nocturnal spouse catches you effortlessly and holds you as she drinks you, a loud growl emanates from her throat–sending vibrations throughout your body as blood oozes, staining your sleepwear. You claw her back as she digs her fangs deeper into your flesh. Your eyes roll back as venom enters your bloodstream, pleasure blooming from within while you arch your back.

The creature purrs before pulling back. Blood drips down her chin, most of it coats her lips like a morbid lipstick. She holds eye contact while her tongue licks her upper lips. Shakily, your hand reaches up to her lips, and Ada kisses your fingertips before grasping your wrist and inhaling your delectable scent.

Another growl.

Your eyelids grow heavy as your eyes trail down her neck just to see your necklace.

Ada leans down and presses her face against your chest, inhaling your scent.

A gust of wind harshly kisses your skin as she takes you back to your bedroom and places you on the sheets.

She looks around, your eyes follow her as the older woman looks at your mirror before it fractures while the wind knocks the windows open–her coat dances with the wind before it distorts into huge black wings; it wraps around her body like a demented cape as she slowly stalks towards you, her appearance distorts once again–man, woman, man, then woman before settling into a man again as the coat slips off to reveal him bare.

Your eyes shamelessly rake his body as he climbs to your bed and looms above you. His physique is perfectly carved like that of a greek god if you are to discard his crimson eyes and sharp teeth as he sinks it into your chest. You throw your head back as blood oozes from the new wound down to your sheets.

You whimper as the creature returns to his female counterpart, her slender, well-manicured hands caress your clothes, her touch dissipates the cloth, leaving you bare–just like her. Your flutters due to exposure, nipples perked up as the air grazes softly against them. Ada hums in approval as her eyes glaze with appreciation.

She maintains eye contact as she laps the blood off your chest, eyes flashing dangerously promising pain and pleasure as she leans down to your ear.

“Has anyone taken you like this before?”

You gulp as pain shoots through your body only for it to be soothe by pleasure. “N-no,” You groan as she guides your left thigh around her lean waist.

The short-haired woman grins, “Good.” She purrs and gently squeezes your thigh.

“Because no one can please you as I will.”

And indeed, she does.

Being pleasured by the creature is nothing short of unholy.

Ada fucks you in both male and female counterparts, leaving you whimpering in bliss.

The necklace dangles and swings as he drives himself deeper into you, a deep snarl echoes in the room, shooting down to your pussy as he grinds his cock against your seeping cunt.

The light shows the sinews of his muscles as he takes you harshly, his strong arms wrapped around your delicate form as sweat drips from his muscled stomach down to your skin. Ada–Adam, pulls his head back and attacks your neck with kisses that morph into arduous bites.

You close your eyes and drop your head onto the pillows while your hips jut shamelessly against his.

The older man sinks his fangs into your shoulder as your mixed arousals drip to the sheets.

He lets you meet his hips with a guttural groan before holding your hips down, grabbing your thighs before lifting them up at a certain angle before he moves his hips. You claw the creature’s toned back, lips uncontrollably spilling cries of pleasure while the sound of skin slapping against skin harmonizes with the creaking bed.

His nails grip the sheets, tearing the fabric while his pace fastens, hips slamming deep, the bulbous head kisses your cervix–your eyes roll back whilst a silent scream breaks past your lips. He chuckles darkly, “Look at you,” Adam lifts your hips and grinds his hips, “Pliant and vulnerable.”

He stops his movements; you whine at the loss before he kisses the pillar of your neck before going behind your ear. “I want you to mount me.”

Say less

He removes himself from you, you nearly sob at the loss while he crawls to the headboard and rests his back against it.

Sweat dampens his skin, his black hair sticks against his forehead, the moonlight kisses his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he taps his thighs, you eye his rigid cock; standing tall and proud. With a puff, you align your sopping cunt, the latter grunts as you slowly sink down.

Adam growls as his hands grab onto your waist before thrusting his hips up, not bothering to wait for you.

You throw your head back in bliss while your hands grab onto his broad shoulders, nails digging against his skin. The older man flushes you against him as he thrusts his hips, face contorting to Ada, lips curling into a predatory smirk when your lips let out streams of moans.

“Fuck,” You mewl as your hips meet his thrusts, jaw dropping into an ‘O’ shape as you release a particular squeal that as Adam groaning and gropes your ass before spanking it roughly, eliciting a whimper from you as you drop your head onto his shoulder, inhaling his scent.

His lips attach to your neck, his fangs grazing your skin before opting to kiss it instead. Your walls clenching and throbbing around him, you were so slick and wet that your juices dripped down to his thigh.

“Good,” He moans, “Very good. Just like that.” Adam tightens his arms around your waist as he thrusts his hips upwards, fucking you hard and deep that your vision blurs as a strange pressure grows on your stomach, insides pulsing and tingling.

It was a strange yet blissful feeling.

“Ada,” You mewl and press yourself harder against the male counterpart. “My stomach feels weird.”

“Keep going,” He growls, pounding into you harder to the point that his thrusts are shallow–yet powerful.

Both bodies are covered in a thick sheen of sweat as beads of exertion perspire on your foreheads. The smell of sex permeates the air accompanied by obscene noises coming from you and the creature; the pressure grows strong inside you, losing all inhibition as you pull him for a searing kiss. It was all-consuming as he swallowed your moans.

His strong arms pulling you impossibly closer to his cold body as you come undone–white hot pleasure sporadically consumes your insides as his cock pushes deep, the tip kissing your cervix before he shoots his load.

His warm cum fills your walls as he stills his hips as he finally sinks his fangs again into your chest, drinking from you and adding into your euphoria as you’ve gone limp in his arms.

He held you in place before you felt him morph into another form; a woman, though the appendage remains lodged in you.

Ada looks at you with a smirk. “The night is still young, my sweet rose.” She cranes her neck to the side to see the moon is still up; the older woman moves her hips, stimulating you, your hips shake as a whimper flees from your lips–your arms wrap around the nocturnal individual as she chuckles.

“You can do more, my love.” She coaxes as she surges forward while you lay on your back.

“Embrace your nature,” Ada purrs as her short hair cages her resplendent countenance as she begins to plow her hips into you as she fucks you into the sheets.

“You feel divine,” The older woman grunts, emphasizing it with a deep pound.

You can only claw at her back and moan as she holds your hips, lifting it to her desired angle before setting the pace while you writhe beneath her ministrations.

You cry out and wrap your arms around her shoulders as she hits a particular spot that makes you see stars. Your legs automatically wrap around her waist while her arms grip the sheets for leverage.

The sinews of her muscles flexing with her movements, red eyes watching in carnal delight as you writhe in bliss, your heels digging into her ass, forcing her to thrust deeper into you.

Your walls clench around her, and Ada’s hips stutters before pistoning her hips at a harsh pace as profanities befall your lips.

Look at you, so exquisite. Hers.

The vampire bites down your neck again, blood staining the sheets before she pulls back and laps the wound. She combs her short hair back. Giving her a messy, slid-back look that makes her devastatingly attractive before she puts her hand back on your hips, keeping you still as she bullies your pussy with her cock.

There goes that feeling again, and Ada pecks your shoulder, leaving a bloody print of her lips.

A whimper leaves your lips as you cum so hard–it’s blinding. Ada snarls and tears the fabric as she slams her hips deep and finishes after you. Your velvet walls throb as her essence mixes with yours; a warm concoction as she rubs her hips and you’re too blissed-out to react.

You don’t know how long you two were going at it.

You’re not even sure how you managed to stay alive with Ada drinking your blood at each release. You were too busy indulging the older woman’s appetite as she fucks and breeds you relentlessly.

“On your stomach,” Ada commands. You obey; pressing your bloody chest against the crimson-stained sheets.

“Hips up,” She purrs. You obeyed, allowing her to see your swollen cunt dripping with your mixed juices. “Good girl,” The older woman purrs before slapping your folds, making you cry out as more of your essence drips down.

The former uses your cum to coat her cock before looming above you, her hands caging you on opposite sides before her left hand moves to your neck, applying pressure–you gasp and jut your hips against her appendage.

The necklace presses against yours with a cold sting.

Ada’s nails dig against your neck, a hiss befalls your lips in both pleasure and pain as she thrusts her entire length. The head easily parts your folds as she glides into you in one swift motion, impaling you with her cock.

The sheer girth of her shaft spreads your cunt until your walls are stretched thin around her. Overstimulation shoots throughout your body, screaming in erotic delight while you claw the sheets and gasp for air. Winded by her thrust. The mixture of her cock and your mixed juices makes you feel full. Your walls flutter, pulsing as Ada sets a brutal pace.

“Ada!” You cry out as her hand leaves your neck, her lips latch onto your shoulder. Her hips hit the curvature of your ass–you can feel her toned stomach flex and stiff at her pace as she moans your name. Holding you down by the shoulders as she jackhammers inside you. Your body feels hot in contrast to hers as you meet every roll of her hips.

Your head falls against the pillows, letting the older woman have her way with you as her fangs dig against the flesh where your neck and shoulders meet–you cry out.

“You are mine,” She growls as soon as she retracts her fangs and grinds her hips rough. “Do you understand, pretty girl?”

Your pussy clamps vigorously, sweat dripping down your temple, moaning with abandon, your mixed juices now trailing down your thighs, body covered in both sweat and dried blood.

Ada’s patience runs thin as she slams her hips, “I asked you a question. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,”

She rewards you with desperate pounds; feral. Her hands grab any skin available for the taking.

You let out a loud moan as you felt her cock hit a certain spongy area, your back arches against her front. A vile grin breaks into Ada’s lips as she repeatedly targets the spot, your arms and thighs quiver with every penetrative slam, woes of pleasure leaving your lips.

Ada drops her head against your nape, her fangs pressed against your nape, refraining from sinking into your flesh as your walls flutter as you come undone, the older woman finishes after you as she stills her hips and shoots rope after rope before pulling out.

The sticky mix of your cum smeared everywhere–filthy, disgusting… yet a beautiful, filthy mess.

You let out a frail moan as more of your cum leaks out of your abused cunt.

The creature delicately lays you on your back–the most gentle she has been so far.

Your blood coats her skin, her lips smudged with blood as she settles in-between your legs before pressing her lips against yours.

You return her kiss, with a shaky hand, you cup her cheek as she presses you against the pillows, her lips devouring yours. Her pointed canines gently cut the skin of your lips, but none of you minded as you taste the salty and metallic flavor of your blood, but to Ada–it’s sweet nectar.

You pull for air only for the creature to chase your lips with a soft grunt, your blood trickles down to your chin as you keep kissing her until your lungs burned for oxygen.

You open your eyes–finally taking in your surroundings… Was your room always this bright?

As the first light of dawn kissed the room, you froze, watching in horror as cracks began to form along Ada’s face. Her pale skin, once smooth and unyielding, now splintered like fragile porcelain.

“No, please…” you whispered, reaching out to her instinctively.

Ada turned to you, her crimson eyes softening, betraying the faintest glimmer of emotion. “Do not mourn me yet,” she murmured, her voice low but steady. “I am not so easily undone.”

Desperation clawed at your chest as you tightened the blanket around both of you, shielding her from the sunlight seeping through the window. Her arms encircled you, colder than ever before, yet somehow comforting.

“Ada,” you pleaded, your voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” she replied, her lips curling into a faint, almost wistful smile. “But there is a price, my sweet rose. There always is.”

As she spoke, a sharp pain erupted in your chest. You gasped, clutching at your heart as a cold fire spread through your veins. Ada held you close, her grip both tender and unyielding, as the venom coursing through your blood consumed you.

“It’s already begun,” she said, almost reverently. “Your heartbeat will slow. Your warmth will fade. And when it is over, you will be as I am.”

You shuddered, torn between terror and exhilaration. “What will I become?”

“My equal,” she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Bound to me for eternity. You will no longer crave the comfort of the sun, but you will have me.” Her lips hovered above yours. “Always.”

The sunlight grew brighter, and you felt your strength waning, but Ada’s presence anchored you. The cracks on her skin stopped spreading, though they remained etched into her features like scars of battle.

“Do you accept this fate?” she asked, her tone soft but commanding.

You hesitated, the weight of her question pressing down on you. But as her eyes bore into yours, you knew there was no turning back.

“Yes,” you breathed.

With a predatory smile, Ada leaned in, her fangs glinting in the light as she whispered against your skin, “Then we begin again.”

She sank her teeth into your neck, and this time, there was no fear, no shame—only a profound, unrelenting connection. As the venom claimed you fully, your vision blurred, the room dissolving into a haze of darkness and light.

When you awoke, the sunlight no longer burned. You stood, unsteady but alive, your senses heightened. The air tasted of earth, leather, and smoke, but now it was intoxicating.

Ada stood beside you, her cracks fading, her smile triumphant. She took your hand, her touch no longer cold but perfectly attuned to yours.

“You are mine,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice.

“And you are mine,” you replied, your voice steady.

Together, you turned toward the window, the dawn no longer a threat but a new beginning.

Fin.

#ada wong x reader #resident evil #ada wong #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #postedthisonao3too #resident evil remake #ada wong smut

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writerunblocked · 1 year ago

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Bullet Proof Heart: I. The Agreement

Synopsis: After her idiot older brother, a man notoriously bad a counting, accidentally short-changes the Peaky Blinders for who their father pays for protection, Anya Rosenthal finds herself engaged to the much older and the most powerful man in Birmingham. The leader of the gang The Peaky Blinders and her now former employer, Thomas Shelby.

Trope: Arranged marriage trop. I know it's old, but I like it.

TW: Death and dying, antisemitism, drinking, drunkness, and smoking, swearing

WC: 3560

Read Part 2, Out of the Bag, here. Read Part 3: Acceptance here

It was a bleak late August morning in Birmingham, England. The people went about their business, dogs barked, and she could hear children laughing outside. Nothing about this morning could predict the day Anya Rosenthal would have.

Waking up, getting dressed, and running into the kitchen to greet her mother who had been up for hours, the 22-year-old was greeted by her mother mopping the floors and muttering things in Yiddish under her breath. Looking at her mother’s blotchy face and red eyes, she looked like she’d been crying. She walked over to where her mum kept the liquor, grabbed the bottle of Jameson, walked over to the tea and poured her mother a glass with more Jameson than tea. Placing it down on the table, she walked over to her mother who was muttering in Yiddish ‘no good piece of shit. Marrying her off without my knowledge. I thought he loved her. To him!’

“Mame, vas geyt far?” Anya asked. (Mum, what’s going on?)

Anya's blue eyes met her mother’s blue ones. And Anya could see herself in her mother. The two were practically identical. Both had curly blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that caught the attention of everyone. Anya was said to be the most beautiful woman in all of Birmingham. Except her family was dirt poor. Her father had been hurt during the war and the family of eight had fallen upon hard times. Her brothers had taken up jobs running for gangs while her father had started growing Cannabis, something that was still taking off.

Her mother stopped mopping and walked over to where the tea cup was. Anya followed. “Antshuldigt mir, Anya,” she whispered while taking a drink of the tea. Anya knew it was extra strong with no milk, just how her mother, and also Anya, liked it. “Bite visn az ikh keynmol gevalt dos far ir.” (I’m so sorry, Anya. Please know that I never wanted this for you.)

Anya was now terrified of her mother’s own words. In her 22 years on God’s Earth, she had never seen her mother cry. Her own mother, who’d raised six kids while her husbands and three oldest sons were off at war and raised Anya and her older brother Isaac while simultaneously running the family pot business. Many soldiers would flock to it after they came home from the war, her three oldest brothers and father included.

But her father was sick, they couldn’t afford to take him to a doctor, and he didn’t have much longer left to live. He struggled to breathe and he struggled to walk. With every laboured breath, the Rosenthal family knew that their father was close to death. Her oldest brother Abraham, better known as ‘Abe’, would take over the business.

“Vas tut zikh?” Anya asked her mother. (What’s going on.)

But her mother couldn’t even look her in the eyes. All she kept on saying was ‘sorry’ in Yiddish over and over and over again. She was worried her mother was on the verge of a mental breakdown and she’d have to be whisked away. She was hysterical and that terrified Naomi. Her mother had led the charge for their immigration from Krakow, Poland, to Birmingham, England fleeing the Pograms. Anya was only a little girl but she could remember their neighbours being murdered by the townspeople. They’d packed up and fled to England, the only country that was willing to take them. Her father and brothers would then sign up to fight for the Crown, not knowing if they would come back alive. They all did, but no one knew how or why. They were in the Somme and worked as tunnelers.

“ANYA!” her father roared. “ANYA ROSENTHAL GET IN HERE!”

With her mother’s silent sob, she got up and walked to her father’s office. She wondered who was behind the door as she smelt the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and her father only smoked cigarettes when he was meeting with someone. As she opened the door to her father’s office she saw the man sitting at the desk with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whisky in the other. But on the other side of the desk with his back toward the door was a man with a partially shaved head and a familiar cap that she saw every day at work. She nearly wanted to scream, for Anya recognised the man, it was Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders. No wonder why her mum was crying. No wonder why she was inconsolable. This man wanted her for something. And she hoped it wasn’t about last night at the Garrison, where Anya worked as a barmaid.

“Anya, you’re here,” Mr Shelby said, turning around to greet her. His electric-blue eyes looking into hers. She felt weak in the knees. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Is everything alright, Mr Shelby?” Anya asked tentatively, taking the only empty seat which was beside him. “Look, about last night, I didn’t know that Connor would try something like that—”

Mr Shelby cut her off. “What happened with Connor?”

Fuck. Anya thought. Fuck me in the ass and call me a bitch. “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Mr Shelby said. “We have other things to discuss.”

“A raise?” Anya asked hopefully. “Controlling the creepy men? Finding my sanity?”

“Enough, Anya!” Her father grumbled though he did seem amused with his daughter’s antics. His warm and mischievous smile that he'd given to all six of his children coming through.

“You’re my new fiancée,” Mr Shelby said. “Your father and I made a deal. He got caught up in something and you are unfortunately caught in the middle.”

And though Mr Shelby seemed saddened by the fact she’d gotten caught up in their business. Anya didn’t know what to do. It felt like everything was falling to pieces around her and all she could do was watch it happen helplessly. Anya had no intention of getting married in the first place and was happily content with being the crazy single Auntie at every Seder who gave sweets to her niece and nephew. She wanted to travel, have fun, and go out. The last thing on her mind was marriage. Anya was pulled out of her thoughts by her mother’s violent sobs from the kitchen. Anya hated how powerless she felt with the whole ordeal. Her youngest getting married, her little girl growing up, and starting a family of her own. People usually married for love, but Anya wasn’t given that choice.

Anya felt numb, completely and utterly numb. As the world crumbled around her, she wondered if it was possible to melt into the chair. Not even her mother’s sobs could pull her out of this. Sure, she and Mr Shelby did know each other, intimately as they had started sleeping together recently, she didn’t love Mr Shelby.

Tears staining her blue eyes, she didn’t move, she didn’t say anything. As her world crumbled around her, she wondered if she could turn invisible. She wanted to strangle her father. And Mr Shelby as well. Her father passed her some vodka and she drank from it. “Who’s idea was this?” She whispered. “And what did you do, Dad?”

“A deal gone wrong,” he sighed.

“My idea,” Mr Shelby announced.

Anya rolled her eyes and glared at Mr Shelby, probably a death sentence to anyone else. “Don’t you see enough of me?” She asked. “I’m on your payroll.”

Before Shelby could respond, Abe barged into the room and nearly lunged at their father. The pure rage that could be seen in his brown eyes was something that startled Anya. “SHE’S NOT A PIECE OF MEAT!” He roared. “SHE’S NOT YOURS TO MARRY OFF!”

“I’M SECURING HER FUTURE!” Her father roared. “I’LL BE DEAD IN THREE MONTHS!”

The entire house went cold. Everyone looked at him in shock. “What?” asked Abe. The atmosphere in the house turned cold as everyone processed their father’s statement.

“When did you find out, David?” asked Mr Shelby.

“Last month,” he sighed. “I found out last month.”

Everyone knew that David Rosenthal would die and that he was on borrowed time. They didn’t realise it would be this soon. Her father had been going downhill lately, he struggled going up the stairs, he struggled to breathe, he struggled to even move. Her mother walked in, her eyes stained, her face puffy as she looked at her husband. Anya knew her parents had known each other for their entire lives. They grew up next to each other in Poland, they met the day her mother was born. They got married young and moved to England together with their family fleeing the Pogroms in Poland. She wondered how her mother would handle the death of the man she had no memories of without. Abe would become the head of the family and life would go on like nothing had happened.

“I have a condition to the marriage,” Anya gulped. All eyes turned her, her mother gasped another sob. “I’ll go through with it if and only if you take care of my mum for the remainder of her life. And my nieces and nephews are put through school.”

Mr Shelby nodded. “That can be arranged,” he said.

“And I want that in writing,” she stated. “If not, there’s no deal.”

"Anya,” whimpered Abe. “You don’t have to do this.”

Her mother was sobbing violently now, but she’d been crying for so long that no tears had come out. Anya could also see that her mother’s violent sobbing was getting on Mr Shelby’s nerves.

Mr Shelby got up and looked at her. “You’re no longer an employee of Shelby Co because you’re my fiancée.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll pick you up later tonight, Anya.”

Anya nodded her head, barely being able to look at her now fiancée. “See you later tonight, Mr Shelby.”

“You’re my fiancée now, there’s no need to call me Mr Shelby,” he said.

“You later, then, Tommy,” Anya responded in a shaky voice. He walked out of the house.

Anya got up and also walked out of the house. Grabbing her purse, she walked down the street and made her way to the nearest pub where she took a seat and took a drink. The bartender saw her and laughed. He had a moustache and a darker complexion similar to Abe’s and wore a Star of David, he looked over at her and smiled, “Hi, Naomi, what brings the most beautiful girl in town back?”

Anya rolled her eyes and scoffed at the comment. The bartender and owner, Sam Lebowitz, had always been a flatter, but he had no interest in her. And when the news got out, no one would dare touch her for fear of the Shelbys. Sam had been a friend of her dad’s for years and she considered the man an uncle figure in her life. “A pick me up,” Anya admitted. She needed it after the day she had.

He walked over to her with a shot of Irish whiskey and vodka. He handed them to her. “How’s your dad?”

She took a deep breath and gulped. “Three months,” she whispered. “It’s getting to him.”

She could see the horror in Sam’s eyes when he heard that. Sam had been her family’s first friend since they emigrated and also served in WWI. As tears threatened to spill from his chocolate brown eyes, he brushed a piece of black curly hair away from his face. “Are you guys planning on sitting Shiva?” He asked her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “That’s a thing to ask my mum, she’s been a wreck all day. She’s been sobbing on and off. The poor woman can’t even cry anymore.”

The atmosphere between the two people turned melancholic. Sam kept on filling her glass and she kept on knocking them back one by one. She didn’t care that she was losing track of time. She just wanted to forget this horrible day. She’d found out that she’d be married off like royalty, she found out her father was going to die in the coming months, and her life would consist of her looking over her shoulder because of who her inlaws were.

She thought of herself looking out of Arrow House in Warwickshire, being arm candy to Tommy, being at his beck and call. She wiped her eyes from the tears that continued to spill as the alcohol flowed. The whiskey and vodka started tasting like water, but she just continued to drink and drink and drink. She didn’t care.

The pub turned quiet but she downed another glass. “Another, Sam,” she slurred. “I need another.”

“That’s all for you for tonight,” he said. “You’ve had more than enough, Anya.”

“My dad’s dying!” She slurred.

“And you’ve still had enough. Just because you’re immune to hangovers—” he stopped and then looked straight behind Anya. “Mr Shelby, is everything alright? I paid you yesterday.”

FUCK. Anya thought. Of course this pub’s under the Blinder’s protection.

“I just need to speak to Anya for a moment,” Thomas Shelby said grabbing me.

“Leave the girl alone, Mr Shelby. She’s had a rough day. Her dad’s dying,” he said.

“I'm only here to help,” he said. “Come on, love, Abe’s worried about you. Your mum’s a wreck. It’s past sundown.”

“It’s not Friday,” she grumbled. “Ikh viln vodka! SAM, PASS ME THE BOTTLE!” She hollered reaching for the bottle of vodka.

Sam looked at Shelby and then Anya who was looking hungrily at the bottle like it was her mother’s latkes with applesauce. Sam looked at Shelby, then back to Anya, then back to Shelby once again. With one arm on her, Shelby pulled out a tenner and put on the counter, “Here’s for her tab for your best vodka.”

Her ears perked up as she heard vodka. She reached for the vodka while trying to squirm her way out of Shelby’s arm, but his grip was tight. “I’ll get her home, Mr Shelby,” Sam said pushing the tenner back. “She’ll be safe with me. I’m her uncle and I need to go talk to Chaya.”

“I can do it, Sam,” Shelby assured with a glance to Anya who was now looking at Sam with a guilty expression.

The two men stared each other down. Sam had to be the bravest man in all of Birmingham or the dumbest. All Anya knew was that this could end badly if she didn’t say something. She was going to lose her father, she couldn’t lose Sam too. “I’m her uncle,” he said. “I’ve known her since she was born, I will take care of her until the morning,” Sam stated again.

“I can take care of my own fiancée, Sam,” Shelby said. “The engagement was today.”

The look on Sam’s face was one of pure horror like he’d just gotten the worst news in his life. The horror in his brown eyes, the hurt, the betrayal. “Let me speak to you in your office,” Shelby responded.

Reluctantly Sam went, and Anya and Shelby followed. Looking around the dark wooden room, the air smelt like stale cigarette smoke and booze, but there was no laughing, no talking, no dancing. Everyone except the three of them that is.

They followed Sam into his office filled with photos of Anya and her five brothers throughout different life stages. Photos of Sam and her father when they were growing up. And photos of her mother smiling and laughing. The black and white photographs would never be able to capture her mother’s beauty. The beauty that Anya had inherited. The desk was filled with papers and weights, a typewriter sat in the back of the room, and a leather chair where Sam sat.

Anya was laid on the couch by Shelby, who grabbed a blanket, pillow, and trash for her. “Get some rest, love,” Shelby said.

“You’re not my mum!” She snarled. The urge to throw up came over her and she puked her guts into the trashcan. She felt sober now. Sam passed her a towel and she whipped her face, he then passed her some water and she drank. She nodded and got up. “I’d prefer to stay with Sam, Mr Shelby. If you don’t mind.”

“Your parents are worried sick,” Shelby stated. “And don’t call me—”

She cut him off. “Then maybe my father should have thought of that before he sold me to you like I’m royalty. Yes, he’s sick, yes, he’s dying, but I’m still pissed at him for giving my life to you!”

“I’ll take good care of her, Sam,” he said. “I can provide for her and I’ll be setting aside money for Gal and Noam that will take care of them for the rest of their lives. Chaya will be taken care of after ”

“Is that what you said when you showed up to David’s place on Tuesday night?” He snarled. “He told me about your meeting. He was so horrified that he couldn’t even speak on the phone. I had to go over there. You’re taking advantage of a dying man, Thomas Shelby.”

“Sam,” Anya pleaded. “Sam, please. I need you here, I’m losing my dad, I can’t lose my uncle.”

“I’m not going to do anything to him, Anya,” he assured her. “What do you want with the Rosenthals?” He asked. “It can’t be because Abe saved your life in the trenches.”

Anya perked up. That was news to her. She knew Shelby was a war hero and so was Abe. Anya knew that her brothers and the Shelby brothers served together, but she didn’t know Abe saved his life. She was young when they’d gone off to war but she remembered it being just her and her mother while the men were off. She remembered her mother praying every night that her boys would return home. God must’ve said ‘yes’ and her brothers and father returned home. She’d been at the ceremony when she was eleven seeing her brother get handed the medal. But he told her that it meant nothing to him, most of his friends hadn’t come back, and he was still haunted by what he’d seen in the Somme and Verdun. She knew Shelby felt the same way about it as well. She knew he did opium to forget in his past. He’d bought it from her father after all.

“Don’t take advantage of them, Mr Shelby,” he said. “I was already terrified when I found out she was working in your brother’s pub.”

“I have no interest in hurting her,” he said. “I can provide for her. I know you have money set aside for all of them in the case of your death, but that won’t amount to much. I can provide for her.”

“How do you know that?” Sam asked shocked.

“Because I know all the information on everyone who pays for protection from the Peaky Blinders,” he stated. “I know that you care for her, but I can provide for her.”

“Is that what that Gypsy tongue of yours used on her ailing father?” he asked.

“He’s worried that she’s getting too wild and is in needing of marrying off,” Shelby responded. “Better me than someone else.”

“The most I do is get drunk,” she sighed. “I don’t go crazy, I don’t do coke.”

“You once went through half my vodka supply,” Sam said.

“I haven’t—”

“That was last week,” he said cutting her off. He turned to Shelby, his eyes now also filled with fear. This was his niece after all. “She’s out of control and you think you’re the one to pull her back?”

“I’M A HUMAN BEING!” Anya roared tears staining her eyes. Sam passed her another glass of water. “I’m a human being. I’m not to be brought, I’m not a prize to be won, I’m not a piece of land. I’m a human being. A human!”

Shelby led her back to the couch and put his hand in hers. “You are human, love,” Shelby said. “No one’s saying that!”

She jumped up and Shelby got up with her. “THE REST OF MY LIFE WAS SIGNED AWAY!” She hollered. “SIGNED AWAY TO YOU! RIGHT NOW, I’M THE PROPERTY OF MY FATHER, AFTER THE MARRIAGE, I’M YOUR PROPERTY. MY LAST NAME CHANGED, EVERYTHING ABOUT THE ROSENTHALS ERRASED AS I’M JUST KNOWN AS THOMAS SHELBY’S WIFE!” She pushed Shelby away. “Does anybody ever stop to think about me when they’re throwing my life to the wolves?”

Shelby looked at her and sighed. “I understand where you’re coming from,” he said. “You won’t be cut off from your family.”

She was shocked at what came out of Shelby’s mouth. He was assuring her that she wouldn’t be cut off from her family. She scoffed, she knew the answer. “You genuinely want this,” she laughed. Anya's laugh wasn’t one filled with humour that people called ‘infectious’. It was filled with shock and disbelief. “Good God, you want to go through with this. What happened, Mr Shelby, at the Pub that made you want this?”

“Your father got caught up in some business with the Blinders,” he told her. “You got caught in the crossfires.”

He grabbed Anya and led her out of the Pub. Uncle Sam was reluctant but didn’t object when she sent him a pleading look. And with that, she was on her way to her parents. Her mum was probably worried sick about her.

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