Alucard With A Pregnant Reader

Alucard with a Pregnant Reader

Pairing: Alucard x Fem Reader

Genre: Angst

AN: Feel free to sue me if you spot an grammatical error. College tuition is on me friends :))) (pls don't)

Part 2

"I am so scared," you whisper, your fingers tracing the curve of your taut belly. It's barely noticeable to anyone else, but you can feel the presence growing within you. The healer's words from this morning echo in your mind. Eight weeks. The child inside you is eight weeks old, a secret shared only by you and the kitchen walls.

The signs had been impossible to ignore – the missed period, the bouts of vertigo, the persistent waves of nausea, and that peculiar craving for grapes. Denial had no choice but to give way to the truth.

Your heart aches with uncertainty, but it's not just the unknown future that grips you; it's the thought of Alucard. The two of you hadn't discussed children before. It wasn't a topic that had ever found its way into your conversations. The idea of parenthood had never been part of your plans.

Alucard, with his scarred past and the haunting shadows that still lingered, was a picture of complexity. You knew he carried wounds that hadn't fully healed. The mere thought of this news, of this life growing within you, could be a cruel trigger. You stand in the hush of your kitchen, your voice timidly breaking the silence, as if testing the weight of your thoughts in the air. "I do not want to burden him or force him back into the memories he's barely managed to escape," you murmur to yourself, the words a fragile secret shared with the walls.

"I don't want to disrupt the fragile equilibrium we've found. I don't want to steal away the progress we've made together... but at the same time, I can't ignore this," your voice quivers, and a tear escapes your eye, tracing a glistening path down your cheek. The conflicting emotions swirl within you – the want for this unexpected life, this precious gift that belongs to you and Alucard, battles against your fears.

Shame and guilt intertwine with desperation, tugging at the corners of your conscience. Does your yearning for this child outweigh the love you hold for Alucard? How can you weigh one life against another, one desire against the fragile, hard-fought happiness you've found together?

So, on a stolen night when the moon hangs low in the sky and stars whisper amongst themselves tales of old, you lay next to Alucard. Moonlight trickles through the curtains, painting your surroundings in a gentle, silvery glow, creating a haven just for the two of you.

You lie beside Alucard, the sheets a soft cocoon around you both, and your head rests on your arm as you gaze at him. His fingers interlace with yours, tracing patterns on your palm, a touch that usually brings comfort but tonight, a tempest brews within you, hidden from his perceptive eyes.

Your fingers glide through his hair, each strand a cascade of silk between your touch. His head tilts into your caress, a gesture that conveys both ease and affection. "What is it?" His voice, like a whisper carried by the wind, brushes against your senses. The concern in his eyes pulls at your heartstrings. "You seem so distant, so burdened these past days," he observes, his gaze holding yours, unwavering and genuine. In that moment, words escape you, caught in the tangle of emotions that you've been wrestling with.

You take a steadying breath, your fingers never ceasing their gentle dance through his hair. "It's... just thoughts," you begin, your voice soft and tentative, "worries that have found a way to settle in my mind." His unwavering attention emboldens you to continue, "I've been trying to sort through them on my own."

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a subtle reassurance that he's there, by your side. "You know you can tell me anything," he says, his tone a mixture of encouragement and gentle persistence. His genuine concern is a testament to the trust you both had built and it fills you with warmth even amidst the turmoil within.

With a sigh, you finally voice the storm that has been raging within you. "It's about... us, about the future," your words weave into the quiet of the night. "I... I've learned something that's left me torn." His patience anchors you, allowing the words to flow more freely.

You take a deep breath, your fingers entwining with his as you draw his hand closer. The closeness brings a soothing comfort as you shift nearer, your hand holding on to Adrian’s finds its resting place on your belly. His name, Adrian, escapes your lips like a whispered prayer, and then the confession tumbles forth, heavy with implications. "Adrian, I've discovered that... we're expecting a child."

Time seems to stand still as the words hang in the air, the weight of them etching a profound stillness between you. His eyes widen, a myriad of emotions flickering through their depths, unspoken words caught in his gaze. The universe seems to hold its breath, and in that suspended moment, you feel his fingers tighten around yours, his grip an anchor amidst the swirling sea of emotions.

Yet, the heartbeat of the universe quickens once more, and in the blink of an eye, he's at the door of your room. It's as if the warmth of his touch and the tenderness in his eyes have been replaced by a chilling breeze. His hand rests on the doorknob, the barrier between you both a tangible representation of the distance that has suddenly grown.

You're not one to be silenced by that distance. Your heart propels your words forward, a bridge you're determined to build across the expanse that has opened up between you. "I know that this was not planned," your voice carries across the room, each word infused with the weight of your emotions. "And I know that neither of us is prepared for this, for the path that has been placed before us."

The words tumble forth, the reservoir of your heart's yearnings finally breaking free. "This truth, Adrian, it's something we cannot ignore or deny. I won't force you into a role you're not ready for, and I won't ask you to become someone you're not. But..." Your voice trembles, the vulnerability stark in your admission. "I can't give up on this child. I can't turn away from this new life that's growing within me."

The days stretch on, a silent echo of the unanswered longing that fills your heart. One week turns into another, and before you know it, half a month has slipped through your fingers like sand. The cold reality settles over you like a shroud – Alucard's choice, unspoken yet glaringly obvious, has left you with a hollow ache.

Every corner of the castle seems to hold a memory, a whisper of the time when your paths were intertwined. But now, they are just that – memories. Your belongings, once scattered amidst the grandeur, now seem out of place, like fragments of a life that was meant to be but never was.

With each item you gather, with every trace of your presence that you erase, the weight of your new role bears down on you. The mother and the father – it's a title you never expected to hold alone, a responsibility thrust upon you by circumstances beyond your control.

It's a quiet determination that propels you forward, that steadies your trembling hands and dries the tears that threaten to fall. You assemble the remnants of your life, leaving behind a trail of an existence that was both vivid and fleeting.

The finality of it all is captured in the note you leave behind. The pen scratches against the paper, pouring out words that mirror the turmoil within your heart. You don't blame him, you don't accuse him – instead, you offer him a glimpse into your own battle-scarred emotions.

"Alucard,

Once, I held onto promises as unbreakable as the dawn, and believed the bonds we wove were unyielding against any tempest. Life, however, has a knack for steering us into uncharted territories, down alleys we could never foresee. I comprehend your decision, even if it rends at the very fabric of my being.

I can no longer evade the stark reality that lies before me, the weight of responsibilities now solely upon my shoulders. Our path has veered into unforeseen terrain, and I must summon the strength to navigate it in solitude. Our unborn child deserves nothing less.

Allow no shadows of blame to cloud your thoughts. I hold no such sentiment in my heart. It is my fervent wish that with time, wounds may mend and we shall each find our own way forward. Always shall I carry the flame of our love, and the vows we whispered beneath the stars.

With a heart both burdened and unwavering,

[Y/N]"

Amidst the whirlwind of agony, your midwife's voice breaks through, insistent yet comforting. You strain to make sense of her words, every fiber of your being consumed by the all-encompassing pain of contractions. She seems to peer into your very soul, searching for an answer. "What do you wish for?" she asks again, her eyes locked onto yours as if seeking a secret.

Summoning the last dregs of your strength, you manage to reply, the words escaping your lips in a strained murmur, "Gahhh I think uuh a girl." The curt response is all you can muster amidst the ordeal.

Your fingers clutch at the sheets beneath you, your knuckles white from the intensity of your grip. The contraction slowly releases its hold, and as the wave of torment subsides, you gasp for air, trying to steady your trembling body. The seconds feel like eternity, every moment stretched to its limit.

"How long?" you croak, your voice raw from hours of relentless struggle. You've lost all sense of time, each passing second an eternity of pain.

"A couple more. We need a bit more dilation. Hang on, my dear," your midwife's voice is a soothing balm, her touch gentle yet firm. She rearranges the pillows behind you, adjusting your position to aid the process. It's a small gesture, but it carries the weight of empathy and understanding.

It had been a miracle that she agreed to deliver your child when none other did. The world is never kind to a single mother. Wiping away the sweat on your forehead, the woman looks at you with pity in her eyes. "Your girl will be fortunate to have a mother such as you," the kindness of her words leaves you more vulnerable than you already are.

"And when she finally arrives," the midwife continues, her hands cradling your tear-stained face, "you will teach her to be as brave as her mother." After all the months of your pain, your guilt, and heartache you for the first time feel loved.

A brief interlude of tranquility is shattered by the onset of another brutal contraction, the pain washing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tenses, your breath catching as you grit your teeth against the intensity. The midwife's voice, steady and guiding, pierces through the haze. "Come on now, time to push," she declares, positioned at the foot of the bed, her poised stance is a beacon of strength.

"Push, push," her words merge with the searing ache, becoming a distant echo as you steel yourself for what lies ahead. Your fingers, once tangled in the sheets, suddenly lose their grip, rising to cradle your belly. Yet, before they can fully reach their destination, they're enveloped by larger, familiar hands.

Adrian. His presence is a jolt of solace amid the chaos. The memory of those hands, those strong and steady hands, floods your senses. They fit yours perfectly.

In that moment, he draws closer, his body aligning with yours. He positions himself behind you, he places a kiss on your grossly sweaty forehead.

There are no grand proclamations, no elaborate vows. Instead, it's the tangible proof of his presence that speaks volumes. It's a testament that, despite the shadows that have haunted his past, he has chosen you, and the life you've created together. His child.

Your breath comes uneven but despite that you hear his heart beat. It beats louder than ever, even louder than the time you managed to jump scare him.

Your screams end with shrill cries filling the room. She was here, your daughter. She was here with her father and mother.

I will die on the hill that Dracula and Alucard can purr.

They don’t do it very often, and majority have never heard such things come from either of them.

It’s something they only do when they are truly safe, happy, content, and pleased.

And often do it subconsciously without even realizing it.

Dracula has a very deep low purr, it rumbles loudly and often if you’re on his chest cuddling him, you will shake to the frequency of his purrs.

He sounds more like a content dragon.

-

-

Alucard’s purr isn’t as deep, and it’s nearly mute, it’s incredibly soft sounding but it rumbles his chest, and he won’t notice he’s doing it unless you point it out.

He rejects his monstrous side, so if you mention it please ease his worries and tell him how much you love it.

He only purrs when it’s just you two, not wanting others to see him so vulnerable.

But he more purrs in the morning when he wakes up to you.

what the two vampires do have in common is how they will lean towards you, chasing your affection with their purrs for your ears only.

Greedy for your touch, greedy for your love they wish to drown in it all, and can’t help but give their own affection in return.

To cuddle you, to hold you, to kiss you with their purrs only growing in volume.

how would alucard react if his s/o was jealous of a village girl

Oh how the turn tables turn 👀

I’ve always seen how HE would be jealous so reverse roles are interesting

It’s subtle at first but Alucard doesn’t think much of it

To him, he only has eyes for you and would never dream of doing anything to hurt or betray you

That being said, he’s more than happy to be out and around the village helping the others and being more around people.

Alucard doesn’t think much of himself that way so for others, especially women, to linger or stare at/talk to him with softer than usual words

Or the way they brush up to touch him

To you though, the looks are as clear as day because it’s how you look at him with all the love in your being

Now you tag along more often, sometimes linking your arm in his or shooting a sharp look in the direction of those who try to cross your boundaries.

It goes on for a while until Alucard notices the shift in your mood or shorter than usual temper, pulling you aside one day to voice concerns.

“It’s foolish…,Alucard, really. I shouldn’t be bothering you—.”

“I take any of your concerns diligently, my love, but please I know nothing unless you tell me.”

As you voice how you’ve felt with all this jealousy, it simultaneously feels as if a weight is added and taken away as you gauge for his reaction

First a scoff, then that breathy rattled laughter you love always been fond of.

“Adrian, please! I just felt that they were—.”

You’re cut off as you’re pulled into a tight hug as the laughter begins to cease with a soft breathy voice brushing along the crown of your head.

“It doesn’t matter who or what tries to entice me, my eyes and heart only belong to you. Everything I am is tied to you, and I would not want it any other way.”

He who was bound in chains, set free. | II.

Trauma and past sexual abuse underneath. Can find on AO3 here

“Take your clothes off.”

“Yes, sir.”

Another bow of the head, looking forever down towards your feet, taking off your ruched bandeau of a top. He decided it was easier to simply wear that than any proper clothes, seeing as you didn’t wear them often around him. Your skirt was next, eyes blank and void of any emotion. You’ve learned to turn them off when it came to this. In the beginning it used to be...difficult. You would cry, sniffle, hiccup. You learned quickly he didn’t like that. The lashings you’d receive taught you the lesson you thought you deserved at this point. 

“I don’t have all day.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” 

You pushed back whatever thoughts you had left, removing the last of your clothes, and doing your best not to cover up. The bruises on your arms taught you that lesson, too. You didn’t need further direction, getting on your hands and knees and crawling to that demon of a man you called your master. A hand wrapped around his shaft, barely at half mast. He wanted you to get him there. He always liked seeing your hands -- and mouth -- wrapped around him in some way. You hated it more than anything in the world. Slowly you pumped him to full erection, not looking at him--you couldn’t. Tears would fall, you feared. Suddenly a hand grabbed at the roots of your hair, shoving you towards his cock. You winced, a small whimper escaped at the forcefulness. 

“This is all you’re good for, bitch. Now hurry up, I'm meeting with friends within the hour.”

You closed your eyes, tight, and wrapped your lips around the disgusting appendage. You didn’t even have time to ease into it, immediately being pushed down towards the base. You choked and spittled around him, as he continued to use you to completion. He pulled out, finishing on your face. He chuckled. 

“There, it’s the only time you look good. Now turn around.”

“Yes, sir.”

Everything went black.

--

You came to, except you were cowering in fear. Fear of being stricken any more than you have been. 

“P-please, I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I’m sorry!”

You don’t know what you’re apologizing for. Maybe you broke something, maybe you talked back.

Maybe he was just drunk.

Another fist came down at your head, and you held back another scream as best you could. You could feel your blood trickling down near your temple, ringing in your ears. Your head hurt, so much. You wish you could just vanish. He grabbed at you again, pushing your hands that were in front of your face away and forcibly grabbed you by the chin, cheeks squeezing between his fingers. 

“You disgust me, you disgust everyone. This is why your parents sold you to me, you know. They wanted a pretty coin, they didn’t care what happened to you. I should kill you.”

You could barely hear anything after that. 

The beating continued on your arms, kicking your legs, hitting whatever he could get his hands on. You feared some of these bruises would turn permanent.

“Please, please, stop! Please!”

“Please!” You gasped out, eyes opening suddenly and jolting up in a sitting position. You choked on the air you just took in, lungs hurting more than anticipated. Your arms covered your head, knees coming up to your chest and shut your eyes tight again. You couldn’t even recognize the pain that shot through you from your injuries. You feared you were still with him. You feared you were back in Gresit, like some animal locked up. You feared, you feared you feared--

“You’re awake.”

Eyes still shut, you managed to stop trembling--you didn’t realize you started--but didn’t dare move. You didn’t...you didn’t recognize this voice. You weren’t sure you knew it.

“You’ve been asleep for four days.” He sounded cold. Distant. 

Slowly you uncurled your body, and peeking through your hair that created a curtain around you, you noticed it was the angel from earlier. Looks like he brought you inside. 

Oh.

“...”

You weren’t sure what you were expected to say. You remember falling and boots and dirt. You remember running away from the monsters. You remember seeing an angel. But you remember him looking almost angry, inconvenienced maybe. 

“I’m...I--It’s--” 

You were frustrated, unsure on what to even say to him. He beat you to it.

“Why did you come here?” Ah, there it is. The inconvenienced scowl on his brow, low timber of his voice. You looked back down.

“...I was running away from those monsters. I didn’t mean to be here.” Voice small.

“Perhaps, but you saw it through the woods, I’m sure. Which means, you were too close. Why?”

How the hell do I answer that?

“...I fell asleep in my travels. I woke up too late. I had no choice.” Well, you could have died . That’s a choice. 

A deep sigh came from his direction.  “Where did you come from?”

“Gresit.”

“Why did you leave?”

You didn’t answer.

He asked again, no difference in his voice. Thankfully. Didn’t sound angry.

“I...had to. For safety.” Not a lie. 

You thought he knew that, too. His next statement surprised you.

“You may stay here, just a few days. Recover your strength. I expect you gone within one week.”

You could have cried at that alone, you’d have a shelter, a safe shelter. In Dracula’s castle with a vampire, maybe. But a shelter nonetheless. 

“...Thank you.”

With that he left, to be alone in your silence once again. You decided to sleep some more, you were still so tired.

--

You woke a few hours later, unknowing of the time. But it was dark now, the day must be done. You looked around as best you could, trying to take in your surroundings. It was dark, though, only having the moon to illuminate the darkened room. Your closed your eyes again, cupped your hands together, and thought. Thought so hard, envisioning a small flame circling within your palms, just a small one, enough to give you a bit more light. You kept thinking about a flame, muttering to yourself throughout. Please, please just enough, please, I just want to see, please...!

The small flame appeared within your hands, you gasped, then exhaled a laugh. Slowly, and carefully, you got out of bed, and looked around the room. Honestly, it was quite barren, outside of the grandiose armoire on one wall and some scattered books on a shelf. A bit worse for wear, dusty, like no one’s been in here. And then another door, which when you inspected further led to the most magnificent bathroom you’ve ever seen in your life . You couldn’t believe your eyes! It was pristine, in better condition than the room and oh my god the massive clawed tub in the middle of it all was such a sight for sore eyes. You couldn’t remember the last time you got to bathe yourself properly, you only had rivers and ponds to keep you somewhat clean since you left Gresit. You let yourself walk closer to it, not fully understanding the contraptions that sat on top of it. You wondered if you could find some water on your own to use it...

“If you twist the knobs at the time, water will come out.”

You gasped, eyes widening and your heart leaping into your throat. Your hands clutched up to your chest, small fire instantly burning out with a spark. You were back in darkness. 

“I knew I smelled magic .” 

Oh. Oh no. And the other shoe just dropped. You were going to be beaten again for being born a witch. Your heart rate started to accelerate, eyes shifting anywhere else in the room. Palms become sweaty, clutching at nothing by your chest, Not even enough of a top to grasp at the fabric. What were you going to do if--

He walked over, silently, and you prayed once again to the gods you’ve denounced whilst you trembled. Only to have him walk past you, and twist on the knobs of the tub. One side he turned on had steaming water pouring out the spout. It’s hot water! The one next to it seemed to cool it down, down to warm temperatures but not hot enough to burn you. He turns them off, doesn’t turn to you.

“You’re a witch.” Not a question, a statement.

“...I...Am.” 

“A poor excuse of a witch.” I knew that already.

It was silent in the room.

“...I don’t know how to use magic.” That was a little more than obvious.

“What do you mean? Your coven disregards you that much?” Well-

“I don’t...Know what that is.”

That made him turn slightly, wondering what kind of witch you were that couldn’t use magic and didn’t know what a coven was. 

“..Bathe first. You smell vile.” Ouch.  He left promptly after that. 

You looked at the shelves around the bath against the walls, littered with different smelling soaps and lotions. You could have died and gone to heaven. A luxury you have never been able to afford. He must really be an angel . You grabbed a handful of things that smelled nicest to you, and brought them over to the edge of the tub. You looked around again, making sure no one was there (who else would be? The man left). You felt wildly uncomfortable taking your clothes off. You turned again towards the door. It was closed. You tiptoed over and locked it for good measure. You’re sure whoever that vampire was could rip it open if he wanted to. But you felt safer, regardless. You stripped down to nothing, quickly jumping into the still very warm water, and felt every bone in your body creak, muscles relaxing for the first time in years . You audibly moaned, and immediately went on high alert. You shut your mouth, and looked at the window, and then the door. Tensed body relaxed again, just a little, and got to scrubbing your skin raw.

You stayed in the water until it grew cold, scrubbed every inch of your body, no matter how much it hurt. And it hurt , saying you still had the injury from apparently four days ago . Some of the lacerations around your arms and legs always burned anyways, so the newfound marks were nothing new to you. It must have been at least a half hour in the tub, maybe more. You found a small plug at the bottom and pulled, hoping it drained the water magically. And it did , though you still have no idea how it works. Thankfully you found a towel, next to the rest of the soaps, and dried your best off, trying your best not to rip open any of the wounds. You wouldn’t want to get beaten for getting your blood on the towel. Or worse, bring him into a feeding frenzy and just take the arm clean off. 

(He’d already smelled your blood when you showed at his doorstep, but you weren’t thinking). 

You wanted to put lotion on your skin, to smell nice , but you didn’t think any of the fragranced oils would do you any good with your battered skin. You still felt much better. Reclothing yourself, you carefully unlocked the door, and stepped as silently as you could back into the original room. You always tended to tread lightly, out of habit, out of fear maybe, out of protection. You didn’t know if you were supposed to wait, or...

“Follow me, and don’t touch anything .” 

You gasped again, looking at the doorway that led to the hallway. You barely caught a glimpse of him as you silently ran to catch up to him and followed. You looked to the ground, as you always did. Just step after step, foot in front of the other. Not wanting to draw attention, not wanting to look around in fear of retaliation. Just following, the way a pet would. You saw him stop, so you stopped. And looked up, only a little.

He was staring at you, face blank of any expression. 

“Go sit.”

When you looked into the room he led you to it was a study, Filled to the brim with books, and journals, and scrolls. Filled to the brim with knowledge . Of everything you didn’t know, of everything you wished you knew. Fiction maybe, or maybe history? Endless possibilities in the room alone.

You realized you’d been staring around at virtually nothing for too long, and scurried to a chair near the hearth. The warmth felt so comforting. 

“Now what is this about you not knowing what a coven is?” He sounded accusatory. You’re a liar.

How do you answer that?

“I..don’t know? I’m not sure what you mean?”

He let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Coven. Of witches? A group of familial witches who live together?” He acts as if it’s such common knowledge to you.

“..I didn’t have that. I just lived in a regular village, before Gresit.”

“What village?”

“I don’t remember.”

He didn’t believe you.

“And how do you not remember where you were born?”

“I don’t know...my parents sold me to a man in Gresit when I was young. I don’t remember.” 

Your voice was as leveled as you could keep it, though you were starting to feel on edge with all the questioning.

“Sold? To whom?”

“I’m...well, I’m not sure who he was. Not really.” You kept your eyes down at your hands. You started picking at the skin around your nails, ripping them raw. “I just knew him as my master.”

Silence filled the void between you. You didn’t know if you were meant to continue.

“Why did you run away?” Don’t call it running away, it was for safety!

“I wanted to be safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“He hurt me.”

You said it with such conviction, and although you didn’t look up it was spoken as plain as day. The sky is blue, and he hurt you . You tried to continue anyways.

“I don’t...know how to use magic. Not really. I just want to be safe. I’m sorry. I’m feeling better, I’ll be out by tomorrow, honest, I’m sorry, I’m--”

“Please.”

You stopped your nonsensical words, and dared to take a peak at him.

This is the softest he’s looked, face just a bit more relaxed, minus the tinge of a furrowed brow. 

“..I said you have a week.” A pause. “Let me look at your wound.”

Your exposed arm and shoulder throbbed at the mere mention of it, and you clutched it. 

“It’s alright.”

“I’m not asking.”

You paused, and sighed, and turned your body to expose more of the injury, the man walking up to you and leaned down to take a closer look.

Turns out, it had ripped open and blood was oozing from your flesh. He exhaled through his nose.

“You’ll need to be bandaged. It’s not deep, but it’s not a clean cut either. It’ll take time.”

He walked away for a moment, going to the other side of the study you had not been able to see. He came back with some supplies to patch you up. Seems he already had this planned out. He dabbed away the blood, wiping away the excess and pressing alcohol to your wounds to disinfect. You hissed, clawing at your skirt. Then came the ointment, which was quite soothing even if you didn’t know exactly what it was. Soon enough it was wrapped up tight in a bandage. 

“...Thank you.” If it weren’t for his vampiric senses he actually would have missed that you spoke at all. He simply hummed, and made notion for you to follow him again. 

He brought you back to the original room you had woken up in.

“Sleep. We’ll speak more in the morning.” Distant again. And he was gone.

What on God’s green Earth happened to you?

Alucard can suspect abuse, obviously . But the gravity of how worn down you are is honestly...unfathomable. He notices the scarring that littered your body, he’s not blind. He had half a mind of commenting on them, but thank God he didn’t, questioning you was a nightmare on its own. Looking at how you reacted to him, how you wouldn’t look him in the eye, hell you woke up screaming after four days of slumber. Alucard thought you had died with how quiet you had been during that period. He wonders...he wonders if you wish you had. He shudders at the thought. 

He knows he’s been quite...off-putting. But no one would blame him if they knew the horrors he’d also been through mere weeks ago. 

By that combination, he can understand why his father thought the human species a stain on this planet. Difficult to argue against it. They were wretched, putrid things. They killed each other out of greed and a want of power. And you were a perfect example of how much irrevocable damage that could cause to someone. 

But Alucard is far from perfect.

If he was being honest with himself, he nearly left you outside to rot away. Let the night monsters take you away while you slipped into unconsciousness. At least you wouldn’t feel it. But he couldn’t--what would his mother think of that? At the end of the day, Alucard was still a man with a heart. A cold, broken heart. But a beating heart. And his human side always reached out to try and care for others, loyal and kind to a fault. 

He tried to sleep after the final interaction with you. He couldn’t. Your dead eyes were haunting him. How you spoke tormented him.

He hurt me .

That’s all he could hear in his head, in your small voice. Someone owned you and abused you, and unlike the twins who couldn’t trust a single soul after that--even one that trusted them with everything he had--you were so fragile and scared to ever disappoint. He supposed it was ingrained in you, for better or worse he wasn’t sure yet. Alucard had tossed and turned for what felt like hours, before he got up. 

He wandered over to your room, and listened for steady breathing. Were you asleep? Would you sleep restfully? Would nightmares come?

He took the chance and cracked open the door, just a touch, to peer in. 

He saw you asleep, finally, covers kicked off yourself. You were in a fetal position, arms wrapped around yourself and legs scrunched up as high as they could go. You were shaking.

Alucard winced, how sad . 

Silently he walked in and gently covered you with the duvet, and left just as quietly as he entered.

He’s not sure how he’s going to talk to you at all in the morning.

Weird Alucard Mermaid AU

AN: @queenondeezmatatas I am sorry but my brain is not functioning and I cannot properly write a mermaid au for Alucard but I tried...its a little crackhead. (P.S. I have been listening to the same song for past week, my adhd is at its peak)

Summary: “when I asked for a souvenir I meant something smaller…”

“It was your first time on a boat and you brought back a mermaid?”

“Technically it’s a merman,” 

“Bitch you can’t even swim-” Aril paused with a comical expression on his face. “Listen,” he gently held your shoulders and spoke in an exasperated tone, “when I asked for a souvenir I meant something smaller…”

Uncaring of your brother who was minutes away from a break down you could not help but admire your find. “Isn’t he pretty,” you tucked away the disarrayed strands of slumbering merman’s hair. Pretty golden hair that complimented his glimmering black tail.

“Do you think we should cover him with a blanket or would that be weird for his skin textu-”

“Y/N this isn’t the time to think about skin texture!” Aril finally exploded with his booming voice. He motioned his hand to where the merman lay, “We have a Merman in our house. On my bed. 50 miles away from the shore.” Whenever Aril got mad his face turned red. Tomato red. It was comical. “He could die, for all I know we could be killed by this creature.”

“Just why did you do it?”

“I couldn’t leave him to die Aril,” you met the merman on the shores of the busy port city. A place where many wandered yet, none cared to look at the injured creature by the water. Maybe none had seen him. But he was there, motionless and pale in the waters that seem to bleed red with his injured tail.

So abandoning the hard-earned boat ride that you had bought, you covered the merman in your cloak and carried him on your back. You did take a carriage ride but that isn’t dramatic enough to be mentioned.

Maybe you could have been smarter and left the merman in the coastal town, where he would be closer to his home but you could not bring yourself to do it. Not when the town with brimming merchants is also a hub for illegal slaves. 

The wounds on his tail and the marks on his wrists were enough signs to not let him suffer any more confinement. And if it is the sea, he desired, then you would give him that. You would take him back wherever he desired.

“Whoever you are,” you took the merman’s hand in yours. His much colder than yours. “I promise you that I will not bind you to this place and I promise you the warmth of this hearth, even though you might not like that so…more like the water of our lake?” You smile at your own little joke. Too bad the merman does not get to listen to your excellent innuendoes yet.

But something told you that he would soon. Maybe it was the deepening frown between his eyebrows.

Blood, crashing relentless waves, coarse sand of the seabed on his tail, nails scratching his skin until it gave away to blood. Screams surrounded him. They were after him. They want him dead just like they killed his mother. 

They killed his mother. Ha…Alucard felt an unbearable pressure on his chest. His mother was dead…and his father was gone in grief. Lost to the world as his mother was. Only one left was him. 

Not for long though. He would join them. Maybe his pursuers would grant him the mercy of joining his mother. 

A big chunk of his tail had been ripped apart by claws. It bled into the sea. Vanishing into the depths of storming waves. 

Rippling pain continued to pulse through him. Even in the dark of his unconscious mind, it stayed. Ever present. Until it settled onto his every pore. A grating sensation.

Alucard’s eyes flew open and what welcomed him was not the comforting dark of the sea but something different…it was wood. Was he on a ship? He could not feel the waves, nor could he sense the existence of other sea creatures.

“I told you blanket was not a right choice for slimy mermen,” Alucard very much wanted to protest that he was not a slimy merman. But before he could another voice replied “Jeez forgive me Y/N that I am not a mermaid, expert and that I didn’t plan for our little guest that you brought.”

First of all, Alucard was not little. “Mer…merman,” he tried to interject his capturers who had entrapped him under a formidable net, likes of which he had never seen.

“Yeah I told you he’s a merman- wait what?” a note of surprise rang in the voice of one named Y/N, “shit…you’re awake!” 

“Aril you got the pan?” Is he going to be cooked? He heard the tales from others of his kind. Humans loved to devour almost anything edible. 

Alucard's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to make sense of the situation. He was trapped, captured by these humans, and his fate seemed uncertain. The memories of his mother's death and the relentless pursuit by his attackers still haunted him, and now he found himself in an entirely different danger.

The wood above him, the lack of crashing waves, and the absence of other sea creatures made it evident that he was no longer in the sea. There was no easy escape from land…had he been on a ship it would be easier.

The voices of his captors, Y/N and Aril, continued to echo around him, their words both confusing and alarming. Y/N seemed to be surprised by something, perhaps his ability to communicate, while Aril seemed preoccupied with something called a "pan."

"Aril, maybe we should think this through. He seems aware, and he's not attacking us."

Aril grumbled in response, his tone still cautious. "Aware or not, he's still a merman, and we can't just ignore the risks. What if he lures others of his kind to attack us?"

"Hey," Alucard looked at the owner of the hesitant voice, which belonged to you—the woman with the brightest voice and a staggering intellect. You returned his gaze with a blinding smile. "You okay?" you asked, your concern evident as you pointedly stared at the sheet covering him.

Your words, though familiar in their cadence, were foreign to Alucard. He struggled to focus on what you were saying, his head pounding with a thudding ache. His tail was his only connection to the sea, and without water, it felt foreign and uncomfortable. The air seemed to cling to him, grating against his exposed skin.

Desperate to free himself from the constraining cloth, Alucard tried to pry it off. The fabric stuck to him, unlike the seamless flow of water through his fingers. The air seemed ruthless and his hands flapped awkwardly. Despite his efforts, the cloth persisted, trapping him like the nets that humans used to ensnare sea creatures. "Let me help ," you spoke again, your fingers inching towards him.

As your hands neared him, Alucard couldn't shake the memory of the claw marks on his back, inflicted by his own people. The pain was still fresh, and he couldn't trust these humans, even though you seemed to want to help.

He bared his teeth in a defensive growl, a warning to keep your distance. Uncertainty clouded his mind, unsure of your intentions and whether he could trust you. The memory of his mother's death at the hands of humans haunted him, and he couldn't risk facing a similar fate.

You paused, sensing his fear and apprehension. Your eyes softened with understanding, and you slowly withdrew your hand

You encounter a stalemate, as you watch a wriggling merman who won’t let you help him. Behind you, you can feel Aril with a pan in his grasp. Your own defenses had sprung up at the sight of menacing fangs that the mer possessed. 

Yet, it is not just fear that welcomes you but also a longing tug. You can see the wounds on the mer’s back. A story imprinted on his body. But even in his clumsy movements there is a desperation. A need to save himself. It would be easy to help him and free him or maybe knock him out and release him back into the seas that he comes from. But the forming tears in his eyes stop you.  And maybe that is the reason that you step back and allow the creature to fight his battle with your bedsheet. You allow him the freedom of his struggle.

And as you do so, you yank a hesitant Aril out of the house. “Get some Kingfoil for him,” your brother rightfully glares at you. He is afterall, smarter than you in most situations. “What? You want me to get herbs?” You exaggeratedly point at yourself. “You want the fish inside to die…don’t tell me you want to grill it into our next dinner,” Aril does not entertain your shenanigans. “He doesn’t look that appetizing but…”

“I’ll go but you keep this,” your brother very responsibly hands you his trusted pan. “Aim for his head if he is a menace.” He expectantly looks at you. You grace him with a firm salute which he does not appreciate enough and walks away towards the woods.

By the time you return the mer, seems to have won the battle with your sheet and pants on your brother’s bed with fervor of an exhausted lover. 

“Well well, looks like you won,” your clever remark goes very much unanswered. At this point you contemplate signing your words when the mer replies in a hoarse voice, “water,” which very much should not be considered a reply but you do not ponder on that issue as you see the said merman daintily faint back into oblivion. 

“Time for a second trip,” you push up your sleeves and stare at the pan that your brother bestowed upon you…no you aren’t going to cook him. You were better than that.

Kingsfoil will have to wait. 

Your afternoon is spent repackaging your merman into a less suspicious form which unfortunately involves putting the sheet back on. For the second time you crack your back at you prepare to carry the huge guy on it. 

The beginnings of the lake right by your house start to show up. “I hope you like it big guy.” With a splash, the giant fish falls into the water and you do not cringe at the sound it makes or the amount of water it sprays on your abused back. 

Adrian felt the rush of water around him as he swam, his senses attuned to this unfamiliar aquatic environment. The water was gentle and cool, a far cry from the hot summer sea of his home. His eyes flew open, taking in the swaying waves of the water body, though it lacked the vastness of the ocean and the familiar taste of brine he grew up with.

The water here felt lighter, and he could sense the curious whispers of the fish surrounding him. It was as if they were welcoming him to this new realm. The soothing water worked wonders on his wounded body, and he felt the relief of being free from the strange cloth that had trapped him earlier.

As he swam further, he saw your back turned to him, standing near the edge of the water. Without realizing it, his actions led him closer to you, and before he knew it, his hand tugged at your heel. You let out a screech as you fell into the water, but Adrian couldn't stop himself. Fear, anger, and a sense of betrayal filled him as he watched you struggle to keep afloat.

Instinctively, his tail wrapped around you, holding you in place as he pinned you to the edge. Your eyes widened in shock, and you tried to pry your hands away from him. A whirlwind of questions filled his mind. Who are you? Why did you bring me here? What do you want from me?

But before he could voice any of these questions, he noticed your eyes closing shut, and your limbs losing their force. Panic surged through him as he tried to understand what was happening. Just as confusion gripped him, a force pushed into him.

He Who was found in chains, set free. | V.

Cross posted on Ao3 here!

“I’m glad you enjoyed the dress.” Alucard spoke, almost sheepishly. Like he was embarrassed. He was. You smiled, focusing on washing the cookware from dinner. “It’s very pretty.” You mused, rinsing one off to give to Alucard, who was in charge of drying. “I can’t believe you managed to find something in my size.” He stayed quiet for a while. He wasn’t sure if it was...appropriate, bringing up. Given your circumstances. You didn’t mind the silence though. It beat any yelling that would have normally taken place back in Gresit. 

“...My father used to bring home garments for my mother. From his travels. She used to tell him ‘it doesn’t matter if it’s my size or not, if it’s a beautiful fabric bring it, I'll adjust it’.” He chuckled, reminiscing on times past. “She had an extensive collection, I’m glad I guessed correctly.” You hummed, rinsing off another. 

“Where are they now? Traveling?” You didn’t pay much attention to your own question, simply living in the docile moment. Being able to actually clean without someone telling you you’re pathetic, or useless, or to do something else. 

He blinked, turning to you in shock. “Do you not know?” Word seemed to travel quickly, he was surprised.

“...Know what?” Oh no. You’ve asked a terrible question, haven’t you?

“...My father was Dracula.” Your stomach was in your throat. All of those paintings you saw around the house--all of the portraits of who you assumed to be Dracula. His father. And the beautiful woman you saw must have been his mother. Which means, all the paintings of a small babe in her arms must have been....

“Oh, oh Alucard, I’m--I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You sounded panicked, ceasing your washing. He shook his head quickly, not wanting to guilt you. “It’s quite alright.” He spoke so surely.

“No.”  You whispered, looking down at your hands. “You had to--Oh, I’m so sorry. That must have been so awful, no son should ever have to fight with his own father.” 

Alucard wasn’t expecting that. You continued. “I know everyone feared him, I know he was practically the vampire king, but, he was your father. And you had a family. No one should have to go through such a tragedy.” You looked up at him with glassy eyes. You were crying.

Alucard had no idea how to respond to you. Everyone had always thanked him for killing off evil, always a good riddance. Even after knowing who he was in relation to Dracula, they didn’t bother for any kind words or condolences. The closest he ever got was a quick consolation from Sypha after burning the corpse of his dead father. The thought alone makes him shudder. And now he you are, a complete stranger, who had awful parents that cursed you and threw you out for some coin, just for being a witch. A stranger that gave him compassion, a stranger that wept on his behalf for his tragic tale. 

God, that alone could have brought him to his knees in tears.

“...Thank you.” He cleared his throat, pushing back the strong wave of emotion he had been feeling. “That’s....very kind of you.” 

Dinner was cleaned up fairly quickly and quietly after that conversation. You did your best not to overthink the interaction. Had you been too pushy? Maybe he felt uncomfortable. All these negative thoughts came flooding you, and even though you knew he would have said as much, you couldn’t feel like you did something wrong. You bid him a good night, and scurried off to the library. You weren’t done for the night, there was so much more reading to do. 

--

You yawned for the umpteenth time within the hour, rubbing your eyes raw of sleep. You hadn’t a clue what time it was, but you were so sure it was well into the night. You had been perusing different books now, wanting to learn about different topics, you couldn’t even choose which one. You started a book of herbology, and marked it where you left off. Then you started a book about the human body, that one was so difficult. You marked off a page, wanting to get back to it.  Maybe Alucard can teach me about this. You nodded to yourself, placing all the books you had been reading in a neat pile on the desk. You wished you had some paper to write down notes. It was difficult remembering everything, but you did your best anyway. After another yawn, you decided it was time for bed. 

You went back to your room as quietly as you could, in fear you would wake him. Getting ready to retire for the night, you had decided that you would continue to pay his kindness back, starting bright and early in the morning.

--

Alucard has woken up the same as he always does, bathing and dressing for the day. He was going to train with his sword first, as he usually does. But, on the way to the ballroom he had been using for combat practice, he heard rustling in the kitchen. That’s odd, he mused, it’s barely light outside. Maybe you couldn’t sleep, or wanted a snack. That was the sensible part of his brain. Or maybe she’s plotting against you, ready to poison you, trying to get a knife to kill you, was the more...manic part of his brain. He steadied himself, trying his best not to think the worst of you, and continued on to the kitchen. What he saw honestly made his heart stop. 

You had been back in your old clothes, except your hair was up, with a piece of torn off cloth from your skirt, eyes focused and brows scrunched over the stove. You had been slowly stirring some red sauce, placing the spoon down and cracking a few eggs in. Alucard looked around and saw some fruits from the market he had recently visited cut up, and smelled fresh bread in the oven. Had you...been making breakfast for him?

“Oh!” You startled, almost burning your hand on the iron pan over the fire, and turned around to look at him almost with shame. Had he said that out loud? “I’m sorry, Alucard, I just...thought it would be nice if you woke up to breakfast. I didn’t know you’d be up so early.” You yawned, sleep evident in your voice. Dark circles under your eyes indicated you hadn’t slept much. And he figured, when he past the library last night he saw a small light from the cracked door. What surprised him the most is that you were able to get up with such little sleep, let alone start cooking a meal. 

“What are you making?” God, that was rude Alucard! He tried to track backwards but you answered him polite as always. 

“It’s something I read in an old cookbook back in Gresit...He had to pretend to be a kind man to save face in front of everyone...So sometimes the elderly woman a few houses down would come get me and teach me to cook. This was a recipe in the book, from Africa I think...i’m sorry, I don’t remember the name.” 

The name didn’t matter, not to him, not really. But the fact that you had memorized facts about the food and the recipe itself was astounding. You spoke again. “It’s almost ready, if you’d like to eat. I just have to set the table, and wait for the bread. A few more minutes, I think...” Alucard was already a few steps ahead of you, grabbing dishware and cutlery. “Don’t worry, I’ll set the table. You’ve cooked a meal, and I’m very grateful for that.” You could feel the heat rise from your neck, embarrassed from his words. You decided not to mind them very much. 

After a few more minutes of finishing up, you had brought over the rather heavy pan onto the table, with cloth in between so as to not tarnish the wood. (Alucard asked if he could do it for you, and you stubbornly rejected it. It’s fine, not so heavy! Liar).  Finally, the bread was brought out to the table with a delicious aroma. Alucard has always baked fresh bread, but something about the way you baked it made it smell more delicious than ever. You cleared your throat, feeling rather awkward, before cutting into the bread. “This, ah, is meant to be a family meal. Shared, in the pan, I’m sorry for assuming that was okay--”

“It is, okay. Don’t worry.”

You stuttered for a moment, before plating some bread on a side plate for Alucard. “It’s meant to be eaten almost like a dip, so the bread is a good way to have the flavors soak up. I hope you enjoy it.” 

To say you were absolutely terrified of his reaction was the understatement of the century. You plated for yourself, trying to stall so you can look out of the corner of your eye as he dipped the fresh bread into the hot pan. 

The taste of the breakfast was nothing he’s ever had before. The acidity of the tomatoes were so sharp, but it was wonderfully balanced out with the eggs that were cooked to perfection. The yolk was still runny, but the whites weren’t undercooked. He couldn’t believe the spices and seasonings came from his pantry. He’s never used them in such a way, but it worked so perfectly and balanced. It was a strong dish that can stand on its own, but didn’t overwhelm his senses. He could eat this for days. The bread alone was phenomenal. And it’s bread. But yours was...well it didn’t taste like it was made out of pure survival. It tasted homemade with love, and enjoyment from cooking.

Or maybe it was just because someone had cooked for him, for the first time in a while. He scratched that thought out, it was actually delicious. 

“It’s not perfect,” you spoke. “It’s missing a big ingredient, difficult to find here in Europe, the elderly woman had a stash of it away in her house. Said she would travel in her youth.” You smiled at the reminiscence. “ But I hope you like it.” You bit your lip, dipping your own piece of bread into the dish. 

Alucard went back in for another slice of bread to dip some more, trying his best to not make a mess of himself and the table even though he’s so sure he looks like a kid again with how animated he’s acting. He spoke your name, with a laugh. 

“This is the most delicious breakfast I think I’ve ever had.” 

You almost preened at the compliment, if you were a bird you’d ruffle your feathers. (And Alucard was so sure he could see it in his mind anyways). 

“I’m so glad you like it.” You breathed out, and continued on with breakfast as normal. 

--

The day went on, with you studying and asking Alucard for help, and then night came.

And then the next day came and went.

And then the rest of the week came and went. 

You woke up on the seventh day, more sluggish than usual. You didn’t want to go. You had grown very fond of being in a safe shelter. Alucard had given you more dresses and skirts to wear each day, with a nightgown so you can comfortably rest (he apologized profusely after realizing that he never gave you pajamas). And now today was the day you had to leave.  You wouldn’t take advantage of the kindness he has shown you. 

You put your old clothes back on after one last bath (god you were going to miss that) and folded up the clothing he has lent you nicely. On the bed. You made your way down to the kitchen, Alucard immediately greeting you with a smile, and then he noticed what you were wearing.

And his smile dropped.

“You’re wearing your old clothes.”

You nodded, trying your best to smile. 

“My only clothes. I have to leave today. I’m very grateful for the knowledge you have given me, and words can do no justice as to how I feel now that I can read better! You’ve been very kind to me, Alucard. And you’ll have my word, just as I said. If you don’t mind, I just ask for a loaf of bread so I can bring with me, then I’ll be on my way honest.”

Alucard couldn’t disguise his disappointment, though you thought he was just finally happy to be getting rid of you. 

“Where will you go?” Why don’t you stay here instead? 

You shrugged, looking around.

“How will you stay safe?” You’re safe here

Another shrug, picking at your nails again. Your bad habits coming back full force.

The silence was entirely too loud for your liking, deciding it was time to leave quickly. 

“Thank you, I think it best if I leave while it’s still light outside.”

You turned around to leave, and in an instant he was in front of you, with an indistinguishable emotion behind his eyes. “You don’t have to go, you know.”

You furrowed your brows, confused. “Isn’t that what we discussed? One week’s time. It’s been seven days, I’m sure of it. I counted.” 

“You can stay, it’s safer for you.”

“I can’t continue to be a bother to you, Alucard.”

“Please.” The emotion turned into pain, voice desperate. He whispered your name. “I don’t want you to go...please, won’t you stay here?” 

You were taken back by his sentiment. You’ve never, not a day in your life ever had someone want you there. You’ve never had someone ask you, beg you to stay. 

You’ve never had someone look at you like Alucard looks at you. 

“Please.” He repeated, a hand taking a hold of yours, to stop yourself from picking. You gasped, but don’t pull away. You stayed quiet, the two of you simply staring at each other. You released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“....If you’re sure...I would like to stay. I would like that very much, Alucard.”

“My name is Adrian.” 

You blinked.

“I thought your name was--”

“The rumors call me Alucard. The...the legends call me ‘The’ Alucard, which is even more ridiculous.” His face scrunches for a moment. Then it softens. “But my mother...my mother called me Adrian.  That is my given name. I haven’t...ah, used it, in quite some time. It’s easier to be known as a rumor.” But I think I would like it if you used it.

“...Adrian.” The way you spoke his name made butterflies erupt in his stomach. 

“I would like to stay, Adrian.”