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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 years

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Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? [Chapter 1: Moonstone]

Aemond is a fearless, enigmatic prince and the most renowned dragonrider of the Greens. You are a (newly widowed) daughter of House Mormont and a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena. You can’t ignore each other, even though you probably should. In fact, you might have found a love worth killing for.

This series begins approximately 1 year before the events of Season 1, Episode 8.

Song inspiration: “Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys.

Chapter warnings: Language, truly unhinged flirting, low-level witchcraft, mentions of death and violence, some sexual references.

Word count: 3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

He changes every room he walks into; he drags your eyes to him like the sea swallows anchors.

You’re lacing up the back of Helaena’s gown—a rose gold color, free-flowing and feminine and delicate, just like she is—when the prince enters her chambers. You know it’s him without needing to look; you would recognize the rhythm of his steps anywhere. It’s a terribly intimate thing to know about a person you’ve never properly spoken to.

“Aemond!” Helaena chirps, beaming, opening her arms to embrace him.

With abruptly shaky, ungainly hands, you rush to finish lacing the dress and then retreat to the other side of the room. You busy yourself with reorganizing Helaena’s vanity as she climbs onto her tiptoes to throw her arms around Aemond’s neck. He is not one for sentimental displays of affection, but he tolerates this for her sake. He has a soft spot for her. When you steal a glimpse of them, Aemond’s glacial blue eye lands on you and then darts away.

“Come, brother, sit with me,” Helaena says excitedly, pointing to her table surrounded by four chairs. Aemond yanks one out and plunks down, swinging his boots up onto the table. He has positioned himself so that you are standing on his good side, so that he could watch you if he wanted to. Surely this is a coincidence. “How was your sparring with Sir Criston?”

“Satisfactory. How are the insects?”

“Oh, let me tell you!” Helaena produces a large wire cage from under the table. Aemond smirks as if he’s trying to figure out how life brought him to this moment. You have been Helaena’s lady-in-waiting for a full month now, and her younger brother is a constant fixture of her routine. At first, he appeared about once a day; now, it’s at least thrice. Sometimes he materializes for seemingly no reason at all, makes a few unurgent inquiries, does a lap or two around the room, and then leaves as unceremoniously as he arrived. Now, he listens politely as Helaena describes each tiny captive creature to him in excruciating detail: the beetles, the crickets, the butterflies, the saintly praying mantis. Once or twice, Aemond seems to glance over at you. It’s hard to tell for sure because you’re committing your full faculties to not staring at him. It is sort of working. You tug at the moonstone pendant you always wear—the one your mother gave you—trying to distract yourself.

“Lady Mormont,” Helaena says. Now she has the praying mantis in her hands and is letting it creep back and forth across her knuckles. “Is there any wine?”

You bring the pitcher to the table and fill two jeweled cups with a sleek, dark, red liquid like blood.

“Thank you, my love!” Helaena trills as you serve her first. She grasps the massive cup with both hands like a child. You aren’t sure how Hightower and Targaryen flesh melded to create something as blameless and benign as Helaena, but you’re certainly glad that they did.

You offer the prince his cup while peering demurely down at the table, determined not to look at him, petrified that once you begin you’ll never be able to stop. He doesn’t take it. You wait, and wait, and wait, holding the cup in midair. Helaena slurps her wine, breaking the laden silence. At last, your eyes meet Aemond’s; and sure enough, then you’re trapped there. It’s only a second or two, but it feels like a lifetime. He’s so beautiful it hurts, it quarries empty places into your bones that scream to be filled. The prince smiles victoriously and plucks the cup from your hand.

“And one for you too, I think,” he says in his low, commanding voice.

“For me?”

“Yes, you.” He takes a swig of his wine and pulls out the chair on his good side. Helaena watches, half-amused and half-puzzled. The praying mantis is now perched on her shoulder, pondering the scene with bulging, unnerving green eyes.

You pour yourself a cup and sit reluctantly beside Aemond. He studies you like you’re a painting or a sculpture or a tapestry, taking in every line and shadow. In truth, it is not ordinarily in your nature to be reserved; you are a Mormont, you were raised to be bold and courageous and self-reliant. It is something you’ve always been proud of. It is the reason why Queen Alicent thought you’d make an excellent companion for Helaena. And yet…here with the prince…you aren’t sure what he wants from you. You so desperately don’t want to disappoint him.

“I know you,” he says at last. In the meantime, Helaena has fetched a deck of playing cards. The praying mantis is still hovering vigilantly on her shoulder. “You’re Lady Y/N Mormont. But that’s what everyone calls you. That’s what my dear sister and my mother and all the people of the court call you.” He gestures with his cup, like he’s referring to the entire world outside of this exchange, this moment. “What am I going to call you?” He considers this…and then his eye flicks down to your pendant. “Moonstone,” he decides. His gaze is mischievous, baiting. And immediately, you realize what he wants. This is sparring, just with words instead of blades. He is giving you permission to be bold. He is giving you permission to be exactly who you are.

“And what shall I call you?” you reply. “Lanky Boy? Eyepatch? Silver Hair?”

Helaena covers her mouth with her hand and winces. No one ever mentions the prince’s maiming in his presence…although you’ve heard plenty of people mutter about ‘Aemond One-Eye’ behind his back. Miraculously, he is not offended. “Just Silver,” he says with a sly, crooked smile. “It’s sharper, it’s cleaner. It could be the name of a sword.”

“See, this is why you frighten people. Because you say deranged things like that.”

“Do I frighten you?”

“No,” you say honestly. He doesn’t. Sometimes it frightens you how much you want him, but that’s all.

Aemond seems to like this. His smile becomes a grin, toothy like a dragon’s. “Come. Play cards with us.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, please, won’t you play?” Helaena pleads. “It’s so much better with three. Three is a number of power.”

“There, it’s decided, you cannot refuse your lady,” the prince says. He deals out the cards with precise, powerful hands. “Tell me, Moonstone, how did you come to King’s Landing? You were married to some Hightower, were you not? Some distant relation. Very distant. Practically a nobody.”

You nod as you collect your cards and plot your next move. “I married Axel Hightower almost exactly one year ago. My father arranged it, he and Axel’s father had met while fighting in the Stepstones as young men and kept up correspondence.”

“Yet this was an ill-fated union, I gather. How did your husband die?”

“He was leading a trade mission and his ship sank in the Sunset Sea, gods rest his soul.”

“My condolences. How tragic. And not even a body to lay to rest?”

“The currents are terribly rough there. They found a few pieces of the wreckage and that’s all.”

“Do you still mourn him?” Aemond asks, and observes you with particular interest.

You debate this for a while before you answer. “I…regret that he lost his life and that his family is deprived of his company. But I wouldn’t say that ours was any great love story.”

“But you did fuck him,” Aemond says. Helaena blanches and gapes at him, scandalized. He shows the palm of his right hand in contrition. “Forgive me.”

You are delighted to prove that you aren’t rattled by his question. “Of course, as was required.”

“And did you find pleasure in it? He wasn’t a brute to you, was he?”

“Not a brute,” you say. “There was some pleasure in it.” You smile roguishly at the prince. For once, he seems caught off-guard; he doesn’t know where you’re going with this. “Not as much pleasure as I might have found with a different sort of man, perhaps.”

“Hm.” The prince shifts in his chair and clears his throat. “No children?”

“None,” you agree softly. This is a bit of a sore subject; to be married for nearly a year without conceiving does not bode well for your ability to bear children, a prerequisite for most advantageous marriages.

The prince pivots. “So he bored you, this Axel Hightower. He couldn’t keep up with you.”

“He was pleasant enough. We spoke about the weather and the price of wheat, things like that. Though I did quite enjoy cheering for him during tourneys.”

“Tourneys!” Aemond groans.

Helaena giggles. “He hates tourneys. Though he’d have wicked luck if he ever tried them.”

“They’re frivolous. They’re for cowards who can’t prove themselves in a real battle.” The prince lays down his cards on the table. You and Helaena follow suit. When he sees yours, his mouth falls open. “What…?”

“Not used to losing, Silver?” you tease.

He laughs, incredulous, immeasurably pleased, his eye glinting. He seizes all the cards and reshuffles them. “So you weren’t in a hurry to return to Bear Island after your husband’s untimely death? Well, who could blame you.”

“My father didn’t want me back.”

The prince’s brow furrows as he deals out the cards. “That seems unlikely.”

“He has eight other children and a brand new wife who’s my age to keep him occupied. He’s barely aware of my existence these days, I assure you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aemond says gently.

“Don’t be. It’s not him I miss, nor Bear Island. There’s nothing for me there anymore. My mother…” Fleetingly, instinctively, you clasp your pendant and then drop it. “She died six months ago. In childbirth. They lost the baby too.” You feel your throat tightening, burning…and then you compose yourself. The prince is watching you intently. “After Axel died, his father wrote to his cousin the queen and asked if she had any use for me, and she thought I’d make a fine lady-in-waiting because…well, you know…” You nod subtly to Helaena.

“Because you’re a Mormont,” the prince says, strangely proud. “Because you’re steady and tough and pragmatic and worldly.” Everything my sister is not, he means.

“Exactly.” Wine is sipped. Cards slip from one hand to another. Helaena’s praying mantis is now on top of her head, stepping carefully over her snow-white hair. The servants come in to light the fireplace for the evening and then vanish again, but not before casting wide-eyed, wary stares at the prince. He mystifies them. He terrifies them.

“And so you find yourself here, in our service,” Aemond muses, passing you a card. “Can I ask you just one more impolite question?”

“You can ask her anything,” Helaena murmurs dreamily, and you both turn to her. The praying mantis bobs idiotically on her head. You hate her insects, though you try not to show it.

“Yes,” you tell the prince when you recover.

“What do you think of my loathsome half-sister Rhaenyra Targaryen, plotting her life away up in Dragonstone?”

You ponder your cards. “I feel sorry for her. That she is so maligned, that King Viserys’ affection for her has brought her so much hardship and acrimony and judgement. But she is the king’s choice. There is no denying it.”

Aemond is disappointed in you. “Her heirs are bastards.”

“Of course they are. Everyone knows they are.”

“And yet you don’t find that to be disqualifying?”

“I don’t think it really matters,” you confess. “The king chose Alicent Hightowner as his mate and companion—despite her distinct lack of silver hair or affinity for dragons—and yet their children are no less Targaryens. If Rhaenyra chose Harwin Strong, what is the difference? Her children are equals to you. They are half-Targaryen and half-not. And as far as I can understand it, their right to the Iron Throne passes uninterrupted through their mother.”

“So you support the Blacks and believe Rhaenyra should sit the Iron Throne.”

“No,” you reply simply, and that’s the truth.

“Why?” the prince asks, searching your face. “Because you still feel some helpless, blind allegiance to my mother’s house? Is it really as banal as that?” Are YOU as banal as that, he means.

You shake your head. “I don’t think the nobility would ever accept Rhaenyra. I don’t think the common people would either. Thus she can be no true queen.”

Now the edges of his lips curl into a ghostly, luring smile. “To challenge her claim would mean war.”

“War resulting from this particular dilemma, I fear, is inevitable.”

“And this doesn’t horrify you? Doesn’t make your blood run cold?”

“No,” you answer. “Battle purifies us, it renews us, just like fire. The worthy will survive.”

He looks at you for a long time before he speaks, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace. “This is dangerous, Moonstone. You are beginning to intrigue me.”

“Just beginning?”

The chamber door flings open and Aegon staggers inside. He has dark racoonish rings around his eyes and his hair is in disarray and he is obviously, pathetically drunk. “There you are!” he cries when he sees his brother. He leans against a marble column so he doesn’t fall over. “Mother is looking for you. She says you are supposed to dine together tonight. She wants to discuss a Baratheon marriage…or was it a Lannister marriage? Some sort of marriage, that’s for sure. To a woman. A human woman. A very wealthy and well-connected human woman.”

Aemond sighs as he places his cards on the table face-down. “Yes, it’s always about a Baratheon or Lannister marriage. Or an Arryn marriage. Or a Stark marriage.”

“Well, hello there, Lady Mormont!” Aegon says, noticing you for the first time. He waves from where he is propped against the column. You bow your head civilly in reply. You’ve heard plenty of gossip about Aegon since arriving in King’s Landing, although he’s never done more to you than make a few unsavory jests. You rebuffed them as rudely as you dared to.

Aemond’s eye scans the two of you and then narrows. “Does he bother you?”

“Hardly,” Aegon objects. “When I bite, she bites back.” He snaps at the air like a rabid dog.

Aemond chuckles. “As she should.” He stands. “Don’t clear the table,” he orders you with mock sternness. “I’ll return after dinner. We have our own little tourney to finish here. I’m coming back.”

“As you wish,” you say, realizing that you miss him already.

When he passes the column where his brother stands, Aemond halts. “You will not harass her,” he says darkly. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword. He towers above Aegon, dwarfing him.

“I certainly won’t,” Aemon hastily agrees. He appraises you, gives you a nod of approval—of acceptance—and spins around to follow Aemond out of the room, lurching and grabbing for walls to steady himself against.

“Now, back in the cage, my love,” Helaena informs her praying mantis as if it were an unruly child. She unlatches the miniature metal door and places the creature inside with the other six-legged captives. Then she asks you: “Is it too warm in here? I know we Targaryens like it hot. But you’re from the North. Perhaps you are sweltering. Perhaps I am torturing you.”

“No, I like the heat as well.” In truth, you’ve been too preoccupied to notice it.

“Good, that’s good. Because there is a great deal of fire in your future.”

You startle. Her words hit you like a fist, like lightning. A cold sweat breaks out on your skin; a shudder claws its way up the rungs of your spine.

But when you ask Helaena what she means, she doesn’t remember saying it at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Long after nightfall—after Aemond wins two card games and you both conspire to let Helaena win the last, after the prince retires to his own chambers, after you fetch the princess’s nightgown and brush her long white hair and accompanied her to say goodnight to her children, after the Red Keep has fallen quiet under the rising full moon—you sneak unnoticed out of the castle and into the godswood. You take only a small bundle of items with you: a candle, a piece of flint, a dagger with a hilt shaped like the roaring bear of House Mormont, other secrets as well. You walk until you find the heart tree, where the Old Gods can hear you even here, so far from the wild North.

You don’t know if you truly believe in magic, but it makes you feel close to your mother. She gave you these spells, and she gave you knowledge of the Old Gods, in the same way that she gave you the moonstone pendant strung around your neck.

You place the candle—vivid red, the color of passion and willfulness and fire and blood—on an exposed, ancient root of the heart tree and light it by striking flint against the dagger blade. Then you wait until melted wax drips down the candle and seals it to the root. With the small dancing flame, you burn three things to ash: the feather of a dove, the petal of a red rose, and a tiny piece of parchment with two words written on it in red ink: Moonstone, Silver.

“I don’t ask for him to want me,” you murmur to the nameless Old Gods. “I don’t ask to change his heart. His heart is his own. But if…if he does want me…in the same way that I want him…” You close your eyes and clasp your hands together in prayer. The night wind tears through your hair. In the starlit quiet, you can hear the distant rumbles and screams of dragons. “Let us find a way.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond imagine

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foursaints · 30 days

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saints I was fighting off sleep last night to write down questions I had about your OCs I would be honored if you’d indulge me in answering a few of them-

1. How did Theo and Freddie meet? Was it before/after their angel/devil entanglements?

2. What’s the magnetizing force(s) behind their friendship/situationship? What makes them feral about one another?

3. I can’t remember if you’d mentioned this before but how tall are they respectively?

I’m here to learn 📝 🥰

this is saints foursaints dot tumblr… you KNOW there has to be a size difference (^their morning routine)

i can’t believe you were thinking about them.. that is so crazy to me. just know that me & oz are having a meltdown every time you guys send an ask like this..... um. they're deeply unserious characters and we smack them around like barbie dolls

in any given au, they always meet at a halloween party :,).. in this one, they're dressed as each other's respective mystic entanglements. theo (avoiding socializing by going upstairs to quietly look at the diff. bedrooms & get sentimental about the lives of strangers) found freddie (super plastered & spilling tequila everywhere & in a sequin halter top & actively stealing family photographs as part of an elaborate revenge plan after the host insulted his haircut once several weeks ago) and they spend the rest of the night locked in the upstairs bathroom together. theo takes him home but they don't sleep together and that surprises freddie. freddie sleeps in theo's bed & likes how it smells & falls asleep with his hand dangling off the bed, holding theo's where he sleeps on the floor.

it's because they cannot STAND each other lol.. but also bc they are also more alike than they realize. freddie is a caterwauling diva who cannot tolerate not being Taken Extremely Seriously and theo is addicted to riling him up & making him blush & curse him out. theo cannot handle being proven Wrong and yet freddie is always on some 5d chess machiavellian mind-game shit & a few steps ahead of him. but it is punctuated by these rare & random moments that are disconcertingly tender (like halloween) and it freaks both of them out + they have a lil thing wherein they're immune to each other. theo has a bit of a halo effect on people & freddie tends to always get his way BUT because of their own situations it doesn't work on each other. but they're unaware of each other's situations. so they are both hysterically like WTF IS WRONG WITH HIM? I NEED TO GET TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS. <- excuse 2 see each other

3. freddie is 5’10 & theo is 6’3. if u see me exaggerating the height difference.. Hush..

IM SORRY FOR THE MUCHO TEXTO IM LITERALLY INSANE ABOUT THEM. but I suppose I am this long-winded with rosekiller as well so that might just be my personality. im not on my ipad rn but i will give you some ancient teddies that are in my laptop files

^ this one is literally from ?? 2020?? I think?? but it makes me laugh

#a #i promise i just have a lot of these laying around. i have not been drawing that much lately sgdhdhdj. i wish it were so #hee hee i got so many asks about them… guys i’m :3 making this facial expression #but I literally get shy... what if my cool mutuals see. cool mutuals look away please .#freddie & theo #saintsocs #foursaints art tag

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clingyduoapologist · 10 months

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CLINGYDUOAPOLOGIST'S TOP 5 FAVORITE DSMP FAN-COMICS OF ALL TIME

OK NOW this is just a list of some of my personal faves, ones that make me literally feral so

Cheating a bit here but first off honorable mention to Boneless (?) by @thelostmoongazer

Idrk why i remember this one so fondly but it's really cute and always gets a chuckle out of me when I remember it, certified banger 👏

ALRIGHT ON WITH THE OFFICIAL LIST

5: A TIE BECAUSE I GENUINELY CAN'T TELL WHICH I PREFER BETWEEN Au in which Wilbur and Ghostbur merged when Wilbur was revived. AND Dreams I can’t remember both by @moldyhay

ugjughugh honestly i consider the ghostbur merging au more canon than the "limbo forever" stuff just because it makes so much sense to me and y'know what it's 2023 wilbur soot can't say shit to me @sootings fuck you

As for Dreams I can't remember like what else is there to say besides get me that fucking ccrime vaccine stat i don't have much time left

4: The Fox and the Grapes by @space-robinhood

Okay I am not the biggest c!fundy girlie but like COME ON, the way the fable just fits so perfectly, the art, the emotion in every facial expression, the fucking photo of fundy as a baby like I lose my fucking mind every single time I read this comic.

3: mentorly advice by @minecraftsz

Legitimately this was probably my fave dsmp comic for a while. "Shitpost that makes you cry if you think about it too hard about it" is a very specific and difficult-to-master niche of art and minecraftsz has written a dissertation on it in the form of this short comic.

2: friend sweater :) by @kettitrium

I go feral every time this comic comes on my dash like, the way it showcases c!tommy's personality so well, being resourceful, a bitch, and so painfully sentimental, it's brilliant. And the art itself is also gorgeous. Of all these comics, this one probably has my favorite art style.

1: Tommy by @space-robinhood

Like, what can I even say about this one? I literally almost tore my hair out just reading it while trying to copy the link to paste it here. Such a simple, small conversation, but one that manages to carry such a haunting theme of the loss of innocence. The final shot of Tommy standing with his back to the readers, his general's coat slightly tattered, a bow in his hands, it's such a poignant summary of his character, one that I will literally never be able to get over, probably ever. Go read it, then reblog it so I can read it again.

AND THERE IT IS my extremely based and awesome picks for some incredible fanworks. I see so many people regretting their time in the fandom recently, and I just wanted to share some of the awesome stuff we were able to do also i may have just wanted to compile all of these is one place so i don't have to do detective work to find them but shhh SO go forth and read and like and REBLOG and enjoy :D

#HERE IT IS MY DEFINITIVE LIST #noticing now there is a bit of a crimeboys bias but like #y'know what they deserve it #tho i do wish there was some cclingy up here :(#but yeah these go fucking crazy #dream smp

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iceprincessviviane · 1 year

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Chapter 1 - Surprise.

Heritage series.

Paring: poly!BTS x Female!Shy!Skinny!Chosen!Reader.

Type: dark romance, horror au, soulmate au, poly relationship, slowburn, yandere.

Warnings: Horror themes, some religion themes (mostly demonic), gore, blood, manipulation, witchcraft, magic themes, death (side characters), mentionings of forced marriage, mentioning about past, loss, yandere, obsessive, possessive, swearing, low self-esteem,dealing with grief, sugestive content and silly jokes created by me. (If there is more to add let me know.)

Previous chapter. Next chapter.

Summary: The life can be suprising. Sometimes it comes out with an sudden love, some struggling or you can inherit something from a very distant family.

Author's note: so we are beginning. This chapter will be a little longer, if it is going to get out of hand, I'll divide it. This is a made up story, fiction so please don't take some information seriously.

MINORS DNI

The small casket was standing peacefuly on coffee table, three pairs of eyes observing it carefuly. With it came a letter in neat envelope, with smell of lilacs.

"Are you going to open it?" The girl with black hair asked crushing the silence.

"I don't know... suddenly I get to know that I had distant living family."

"Well not family but a family member to be accurate." Third one said with a little frown.

Y/N and her friends - Blanca and Kate were staring at it around five minutes. The casket seemed like a item from another era. It was wooden with metal decorations and lock. The key was visible inside the envelope.

"You always stated that you like those old things, but now you are hesitant."

"Because it looks so unbelievable. First the letter with casket then call to the court in case of inheritance which I had never known from family which I had never met." Y/N said with little gruff.

"Isn't that your chance to have an adventure? Like the trip to another continent isn't a big of a challenge." Blanca said confidently.

Well maybe for her because in fact she was confident and sure aboit herself. Usually they were travelling in trio, but working on different fields made them seen each other less often. Last year they had wonderful trip to the Rome and before to Stambul.

Y/N bite a little lip, then reached for a casket and envelope. Her friend put head on her shoulders on each side. She opened first letter, as they could see the small key was there. There was a decorative paper, text was written by ink, person had a very old syle of writing, but Y/N liked it and even found some similarities.

Dear Y/N,

I'm sorry, that we are never going to met each other. I didn't know that I have even a distant family, as much as I know the officials from Grand Hillsam will contact you about the mansion. It's an old, neglected building which I was keep paying for because I had some family sentiment, not mentioning I was quite rich. Please keep this part of the pendant, that belonged to my grandmother, which was in our family for ages. I believe you have the second part. Let it protect you from bad things.

Aunt Lizzie

After reading letter aloud the silence has fallan upon them. Y/Ns eyes went immediately to casket. She picked up small key and opened it with small 'click'. Inside really was a pendant, small solar disk, currently below her sweater was a necklace with small cerscent moon.

"It' looks like separate part." Blanca frowned.

Y/N took them both and looked closely. It turned out the these could be combined and now the sunshines were going out of moon part, which was silver and sun was gold.

"It's beautiful." Kate summed up looking at it.

"I agree." Y/N admired completed piece, then put it on her neck.

"Did you talk with the boss? He'll allow you to go?"

"We kinda have no option. Luckily we've finished big project and I can do home office. I'll focus on daily tasks and small project, which don't need to a lot of communication with a team." She explained with little sigh.

"But where are you going to stay?"

"I received a call after submiting all files in court. I just need to pay for a flying ticket, then they'll pick me up from airport and drive to Grand Hillsam, there I am going to met all necessary officials." Y/N said furrowing her eyebrows.

"Are you sure you want to go alone? And besides that you are sure that'w not a scam?"

"Well the court checked all info for me and confirm it's all correct. The town is actually very nice to allowing me pay only for ticket. I will stay in the motel till the case will be solved. And well, I am kinda scared to go alone, but it's mine heritage and you are busy that time for first and second we don't know how it'll take, so I asked a boss for homeoffice."

"Well let's see at good points. You are going to see very old mansion and probably have time to wander around after work." Kate smiled trying to improve friend's mood.

"Thanks God it isn't winter. That season can be really harsh in those town." Y/N muttered.

"Oh yea you mentioned that it's kinda small town deep in the forest and mountains."

"That's right, I hope the net will be all right."

"Let's not worry too much. We'll help you pack and go to the airport, also you have to keep us updated." Blanca said pointing her finger at Y/N.

The trio smiled and conversation went on and on about the case, then about casual things. She wanted to leave in a week, so they wanted to spent all the time they could.

}*{

Jimin stopped in front of neglected garden, which was in left part of whole mansion field. The grass was too high and stone path was now cracked and dirty. Trees has grown too much, no flowers in sight and vines on all stone walls, and some untreated big bushes. He frowned looking at all those mess and his chest tightened. How long this place was abandoned? Once beautiful now dewastated? Jimin narrowed his eyes and the plants started to disappear, like the life was escaping from the ground, unwanted vines were dying, grass cut itself and few branches fell from the trees then perished into dust. Some flowerbed formed with each kind of flowers, bushes shaped into tidy hedge. Fountain without the water got cleaned from moss and vines, path was now neatly lead into it. Behind it and where the mansion final wall was protecting the garden from outside wild forest submerged the sun clock from the ground. Jimin was content with his work, now the place was more familiar, more welcoming. He eyed the garden once more, when his eyes suddenly shone with crimson colour, black rose appeard almost under the behind wall. Jimin smirked and transformed into nightingale, then left the garden in a hurry, his job there was done for now.

Next chapters will be longer 💖

#bts x reader #bts soulmate au #poly bts #supernatural #mystery #dark romance #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #horror #demons #bts jin #bts yoongi #bts namjoon #bts hoseok #bts jimin #bts taehyung #bts jungkook #bts ff

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1-800fandomqueen · 6 months

Text

And I Will Live Forever

Vladislaus Dragulia x fem!reader

Part One

WC : 16.2K

SW : No usage of "Y/N," physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and are up to interpretation. Mentions of violence, canon-typical, this fic follows the chronological events of Van Helsing (2004). Everybody lives AU! because I am first and foremost fruity, and want to slum it with Dracula and his wives.

If there are any more warnings to be added let me know!

Story Notes :

For reader's bride dress, I imagine the "Melora White Maxi Dress And Collar" but with a very light blue gradient.

All sentences in this formatting are flashbacks from part one.

This is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.

‘He was truly my dearest friend, albeit a little strange, I owed everything to him.’

You wait on the steps of the Monastery, seeing the horse approach from across the courtyard, your dearest friend, Gabriel - The Great Van Helsing - was returning from France today. He had been sent on a mission to capture and bring back Dr. Jekyll, alive. But word sent the day before his return showed that he would be returning empty handed. You walk down the stairs to greet him as he slows the horse and dismounts, “Gabriel!” arms tossed around his stiff body squeezing until he moves to return the sentiment. After you deem the hug long enough you let go, quirking an eyebrow at him, a slight frown overtakes your features, “You know how much trouble you’re in right?” You’re immediately met with a sigh and an eyeroll, Gabriel beginning to walk away.

“I don’t understand how you managed to mess this up, the Cardinal is extremely angry.” furiously pacing yourself to keep up with his long strides, the brim of his hat pulled low to hide any sort of expression upon his face. “Van Helsing are you even listening to me? The Cardinal is going to throw a-”

''I don’t give a damn what Jinette thinks, I got the job done didn’t I?” his tone unwavering and final, holding the door to the monastery open for you, following after. You decide not to answer as you walk through the glittering hall, making your way down to the confessional, standing in front of it as he enters.

You waited outside the door, the conversation between Gabriel and Cardinal Jinette fading in and out with the fluctuation of their volume, the Cardinal remaining the loudest. You hated the way that Jinette spoke to him sometimes, Gabriel never failed to provide results, and had done everything in his power to fulfil every deed given to him by the church. He was good at what he did, that was undeniable, but he was truly a good man at heart.

He was the only reason you were allowed to stay within Vatican City, having shown up on the Ministry doorsteps only a few years after he did, you however were significantly younger when you did arrive. You’d been abandoned, living in the streets, when a rowdy group of men chased you all the way to the doors of the church. He had immediately come to your aid and ever since then he had somewhat taken on the role of the older sibling you never had, convincing his superiors to allow you to stay within the ancient building. He always had this air of guilt surrounding him whenever interacting with you, claiming that you reminded him of someone he once knew, but never explaining further than that.

He taught you how to fight, how to defend yourself if the situation ever arose, he made you carry a small vial of holy water and a collapsible stake on your person at all times, telling you that you never know when you may need it. He was your only companion besides a friar named Carl, who was somewhat closer to your age, a madman when it came to inventing.

Hearing the scrape of the sconce as the Cardinal opens the secret door, you slide into the booth next to Gabriel right before the metal gate slams into place, quietly taking your spot behind your friend as you begin the descent down into the order. You listen as the Cardinal gives the same spiel about being the last defence against evil, zoning out as you watch the monks move about the place. You snap back into focus at the sound of the projector whirring alive, Jinette giving Gabriel his newest assignment. “We need you to go to the east, to the far side of Romania. An accursed land, terrorised by all sorts of nightmarish creatures.” You watch Van Helsing's face go slightly pale as the image changes, an even more grim look taking over the one that usually resides upon his features, “Lorded over by a certain Count Dracula.”

You slightly zone out once more as you study the painting, you can hear Gabriel speaking but are unaware of what it is he’s saying. You can’t help but feel a strange mixture of happiness and sadness take over your body as you look upon the man - The Count - in the image, you could swear to all that was holy that he looked familiar. Like you’d met him before.

You’ve decided by what little of him you could see, that he was still undoubtedly handsome. Slightly taller than you, possibly 6-foot, dark hair, and shockingly blue eyes.

You don’t notice the looks Gabriel throws your way, the realisation hitting him that you're lost at the sight of the photo.

When the Cardinal changes the image projected, you rejoin the conversation, looking up to lock eyes with your friend, giving him a wary smile as you fight off the sudden emotional pit forming in your stomach. Listening as Jinette lists off members of this royal family, watching as Gabriel becomes starstruck at the sight of Princess Anna, giving him a smirk and a hard elbow to the ribs, him responding with a slight stomp onto your foot.

You stop listening again when the insignia of his ring is mentioned, the pit returning to your stomach as you walk away to find Carl. You find the aforementioned man yelling at someone in a pedalling machine, gasping slightly as the person on said machine is electrocuted. “Carl what are you doing?” you’re met with a few mumbles of “Almost had it,” and “Maybe next time,” as Carl shuffles towards you, giving you a small pat on the arm and a crooked smile. He turns his attention to Gabriel as he approaches, automatically beginning his line of chastising and questioning. You follow as Carl begins putting things into a bag for him, Garlic, Holy Water, amongst some weapons. After he causes a viscous fluid to erupt into sparks upon the ground, you giggle as he turns with his inventors' goggles down, magnifying his eyes to a ridiculous level. He gives you a sour look, “the air is thick with envy” he says, rolling his eyes and walking away as you continue to giggle.

He shuffles around to grab more weapons, going on about some substances that can emit light equivalent to the sun, telling Gabriel to use his imagination with it. “No Carl, I’m gonna use yours that’s why you’re coming with me.” “Oh hell be damned I am!” letting out a dramatic gasp as you clutch your chest, “Carl! You Cursed! Monks aren’t supposed to curse.” You watch as a smug grin takes over his face, leaning in close to you as if to tell a secret, “Well actually I’m still a friar, I can curse all I want. Damn it!” giving you a wink as he shuffles back to his original spot.

“The Cardinal has ordered you to keep me alive as long as possible.” he continues, about to walk away before you grab his sleeve, “Wait, what about me? I want to come along as well.” You’re met with a stern look, the both of you completely ignoring Carl's mumbles about not being a field man as you follow Gabriel out of the Laboratory, “No, that’s entirely out of the question.” “Why not? I want to come to Transylvania, I’m always left behind when you go on missions. You know I get bored easily!” “You’re always left behind because you don’t have the training to go on missions, it’s highly dangerous-” You stop him once more, “You trained me Gabriel, remember?” cutting him off as he goes to respond, “You’d rather let a friar, who has no fighting experience what-so-ever join you versus someone who can actually hold their own?” Giving him the best pout you can, “Please Van Helsing, let me come with you.” applying a slight shake to the arm still in your grip.

He doesn’t know what comes over him, whether it be the determined look in your eye or the idea that maybe he could use you as help if all went south, but with a strong reluctance coating his words, he agrees to let you come along.

‘It was the longest trip of my life, a battle through storms and cold only to be put right in the face of death.’

You were tired, aching, surrounded by an angry mob when the first one swooped in from the sky.

The woman, Princess Anna, yelled for everyone to run inside, to find shelter, as Van Helsing shot at the circling Vampires, while Carl was leaning against the wells’ edge, whimpering. You follow the woman as she takes off running - right after landing rather promiscuously on top of Gabriel - eventually shoving her down a cart as two out of the three vampires reach for you.

You pant for breath as the sun comes out, everyone in the town coming out with it. You walk towards your friends, reaching for the stake sheathed at your side as a noise emits from the well. You scream as the sun goes back behind the clouds and the orange haired vampire bursts up, grabbing Anna by the shoulders. The black haired one not far behind her, not even looking at you as she grabs you and tosses you through the roof of one of the houses.

You lay there for a moment, paralysed with pain and fear that overtakes your whole body. You snap to attention as the door in front of you bolts shut, muscle memory leads your hand down to your stake sheath, only to find your weapon missing, cursing as you realise you must have dropped it somewhere along being thrown into a building. You let out a sigh of relief when you see Anna, the woman dropping to your side to check on you. You’re about to let her know you’re okay when all of a sudden the orange-haired vampire lowers herself from the rafters of the house.

You point up weakly, eyes going wide and letting out a yelp as Anna immediately stands and turns to come face to face with her. “Hello Anna” she hisses out, completely dropping and transforming into her regular facade. You do have to admit, she is rather pretty. “Nice to see you too Aleera,” words doused with Venom. You make a move to help her, but when a sharp pain shoots throughout your whole body as you lean forward, you have no choice but to flop back down to the ground. “Did I do something to you in a past life?” Anna backs up slowly, the Vampire, Aleera, following her every move. “Don’t play coy with me, princess,” somehow teleporting to be in front of Anna, “I know what lurks in your lusting heart.” “I hope you have a heart Aleera, because someday I’m going to drive a stake through it.” You watch with bated breath as Aleera literally smacks Anna out of the window, then turns to gaze down upon you.

She tilts her head at you, studying for a moment. A look that almost resembles recognition passes her features before she dives out the window after Anna. “Fuck.” you murmur, beginning to wiggle your limbs as you try to fight off the searing pain travelling through your body. When you’re able to move once more, you make your way out of the house, down the stairs and through the door, like a perfectly sane person, grabbing a large shard of glass from outside, watching as Anna bursts into another home.

You weakly run, limping every step, attempting to follow her in case she needed what little assistance you could provide in your current state. Bursting into the house to see the two Vampires over her, mouths gaping open, fangs sharp and extended, their faces taking on slightly demonic forms. You watch as they suddenly scream, twisting and writhing as they turn back into their winged counterparts, flying out of the house.

You offer her a hand, no words passed between the two of you, only pained smiles and grateful expressions, lifting her up as the adrenaline leaves your body, limping out into the street with her. Walking towards the church where your friends sit on its steps, you pass by Gabriels’ hat, turning and grabbing it for him, gently brushing some of the dirt and snow off of it. Bringing it to him and sitting down, you’re met with concerning remarks from both him and Carl, hell, you’d be concerned too if you also saw your friend be thrown into a roof from 40 feet in the air, but you were just too tired to form any words. Letting your head thump back against one of the top steps as an angry crowd of Translyvanians forms around you.

You’re thankful when Anna jumps to your defence, the revealing of Van Helsings’ identity forces the crowd to back off. You raise your head at the mention of a drink and somewhere to stay, muttering a ‘yes please’ before you slump back against the stairs. Feeling arms come around both your sides, both Carl and Gabriel help hoist you up, supporting your weight as you begin your trek to where Anna was staying, at the old Governors’ house.

You can’t help the strange sense that washes over you at the sight of the building.

“But soon, the final battle will begin, I must go and find out who our new visitor is.”

‘It was a restless night, full of aches. Visions of you and a man dancing through your head, along with visions of great pain and sorrow.’

‘Don’t do this Gabriel… Please let go of my wife.’

You could hear screaming, a woman falling through a window. Great agonising pain filling your senses ; grief, sadness, anger, all equally coursing through your veins.

‘I’m sorry… But you broke the oath.’

Flashes of a happy couple pass through your mind, ending as you turn to be stabbed through the heart by Gabriel-

Shooting up with a gasp, feeling every bone in your body protest at such movement. You take heaving, gulping breaths, the fear seizing your muscles making it hard to intake oxygen. You can feel sweat running off you in rivulets as you try to equal out your heartbeat. What did you just see? This hadn’t been the first dream you’d had of this scenario, with Gabriel killing you, you’d had a dream eerily similar to this one when you first met him all those years ago, except in that one you were the woman falling through the window.

Bringing up a hand to wipe absentmindedly at your forehead, trying to cease what you assume is a river of sweat. It’s only when your hand comes back covered in a fluid that’s smelling and stringing to your skin, it’s within that moment when you’re able to register the low growling do you look up, and come eye to eye with a werewolf.

It pounces the second you look at it, giving you only a moment to roll out of the bed and scream as loud as you can. Dodging as best you can as the creature lays havoc to the room you’re in, ducking for cover as leaps for you, watching it crash through the window. You turn as your room door is opened, Gabriel looking in with features clouded by fear. He calls your name, coming around to rest his hands upon your shoulders, “What happened?” “Werewolf,” a shaky hand coming to point towards the shattered window, “Went that way.” Grabbing you by the shoulders he directs you to a ripped up armchair sitting in the corner of the room, sitting you down and handing you your stake, huh, where did he find that? “Stay here, I’ll be back soon.”

You don’t stay, waiting a few moments after he’s left to get up. It’s only when yelling and crashing resonates from downstairs do you hurry your pace. You arrive at the sight of Gabriel running out of the estate and Anna standing in a catatonic state, staring off in his direction. Disregarding the broken window, you already have a feeling of what broke it to begin with, you turn to Anna, gently grasping her elbows and directing her attention to you.

“Anna? What happened?” lifting one hand up to her neck, gently tilting her head from side to side, looking for any signs of pain or damage. “Are you alright? Did it hurt you?” That seems to do the trick as her glossy eyes fill with more tears, finally spilling over as she looks at you, “My brother. It’s my brother.” You say nothing, cooing slightly as her tears fall faster, pulling her into a hug. “He’s going to kill him.” Words murmured into your shoulder. “Who’s going to kill who, Anna?” “Van Helsings’ going to try and kill my brother.'' And with those words she takes off out the door.

You grab a pile of fabric off the back of a nearby chair, knowing that the cold would be too severe for what Anna, and yourself, were currently wearing. You saddle up the horse you came into town on, going off in the direction of several sets of footprints. When you approach where Anna and Van Helsing stand in the graveyard you catch the remnants of what was undoubtedly a heated conversation. “He has taken everything from me. Leaving me alone in this world.” You quietly dismount, grabbing the blanket you brought and throwing part of it over Annas’ shoulders, slightly startling her with your sudden presence. You say nothing as you resume your previous embrace with her, watching as Anna all but crumbles into the affection.

“To have the memories of those you have loved and lost is perhaps harder than to have no memories at all.” his words spoken with a guilty glance towards you, an unexplainable rage filling you at the idea of whatever he could possibly be implying. “Alright, we’ll look for your brother.”

“It was obvious that Van Helsing was wary of this man, but when he turned to me I felt no fear. He looked at me in what could only be sheer reverence, and I felt my mind settle.’

The Castle was looming, with electricity zapping to and fro from the top tower. Hanging behind as to give Anna and Gabriel some time to talk. If the fate of Anna's family wasn’t at stake you would take the time to poke at his lovesick behaviour, but until everything was over you held your remarks at bay.

Entering the dusty manor, pushing cobwebs out of your way, the three of you make your way into a room filled to the brim with sacks hanging from the ceiling, reminding you of very slimy chrysalides. “Have you ever seen these things before?” you aim your question towards either of your company. “No. What do you think they are?” Both of you turn to Gabriel, “Offspring.” “What?” spoken at the same time. “A man with three gorgeous women for 400 years-” “Yes, vampires are the walking dead, it only makes sense their children are born dead.”

Pushing your way through to reveal a grand hall filled with even more of the pods, electricity crackling down the hall and into the room you are in. Watching as the pods begin to pulse and wiggle. “Van Helsing don’t-” exclaiming in exaggerated disgust as he sticks his hand into the sack, throwing the slime substance out of his way.

“So this is what you get when Vampires mate-” not given the time to finish his sentence as it comes to life, both you and Anna screaming out in disgust. Another blast of electricity barrels through the room, bringing with it a shiver up your spin and the jolt of a static shock. The three of you run as they begin to drop from the ceiling, faintly aware of voices coming from somewhere above you.

Despite Annas’ pleas, you watch as Gabriel exits out of your covered spot, entering the desolate hall once again to begin shooting at the vampiric offspring still flying around the room. He looks up somewhere in the room, a slightly smug look upon his face, “Now that I have your attention.” A giant winged creature falls from the sky and begins to pursue your friend. The gust of air it brings knocks over decorations, items falling all around you. You don’t even register Anna rushing up the stairs behind you, nor the beam and chandelier falling after her, blocking anyone from following. You do, however, register the doors at the end of the hall slamming closed, locking you in here with Van Helsing and the creature.

Crouching down next to some crates, watching as the creature swoops down, turning into a man. Turning into the Count from the Cardinals’ slideshow. “I can tell the character of a man by the sound of his heartbeat.” A deep accented voice lilting, “Usually when I approach,” clapping his hands together in a slightly off-rhythm staccato, “I can almost dance to the beat. Strange that yours is so steady.” Hands ending their sporadic clap as he continues to walk forward, all noise ceasing except for crackling of electricity.

When Gabriel drops down and stabs the man you can’t help the sadness that fills you. A strange sense taking over you, making you want to walk over and kill your best friend where he stands. “Requistat in pace” words uttered with an arrogance. You stand up, beginning to make your way towards them, “Hello Gabriel,” freezing in your steps. Did he know this man?

“Is this your silver stake?” pulling it out of his chest and tossing it over his shoulder. “How long has it been, 3- 400 years? You don’t remember, do you?” “What exactly is it I should be remembering?” The two of them begin to slowly circle around one another, “You are the Great Van Helsing! Trained by monks and mullahs from Tibet to Istanbul, protected by Rome herself! But like me, hunted by all others.”

“The Knights of the Holy Order know all about you, It’s no surprise you would know about me.” “Yes but it’s much more than this” the man laughs as he takes a step towards Van Helsing, the two coming full circle. “We have such history, You and I, Gabriel. Have you ever wondered why you have such horrible nightmares, horrific scenes of ancient battles past. Horrific scenes of betrayal? Would you like for me to refresh your memory a little, a few details from your sordid past?” You shuffle slightly, the heel of your boot scraping across a loose tile in the floor, drawing the attention of both Gabriel and the Count.

He gazes in disbelief. Freezing for a few moments before taking delicate, hesitant, steps towards you. You knew that you should probably flee, run for cover or to your friend, but instead you stayed put, Standing your ground as he approached you. He walks until the two of you almost stand toe-to-toe. An ungloved hand reaches out towards you and you can’t help the flinch that runs through your body, heart rate picking up in fear. He looks pained at your cower, hand still moving to brush lightly against your jaw, freezing cold fingers solidify his true nature to you.

“Do not fear me.”

‘I hope you’ve learned by now that I mean you no harm.’

Words spoken in such a hushed whisper that only you could hear with your proximity. And for some strange reason, you find yourself calming at his words, the fear leaving your still shellshocked system, heart rate slowing. You pay no attention to your friend who’s currently sneaking up behind the man, completely enraptured by the Count.

He mutters something that you can't quite catch, his hand beginning to drift down your neck, brushing against the necklace round your neck. He picks up the chain and lets it run through his fingers, getting steadily closer to the ring that resides on the end of it. A small silver wedding band that never seemed to tarnish rested along the chain, you had no idea where you had gotten it, it had been in your possession for what seemed forever. It was obviously valuable and you could never seem to part with it, in fear of it one day sliding off your finger during your work you ran it onto a bare chain, deciding to wear it as a necklace.

Before he can reach the ring at the end of the chain the sound of something clicking into place takes the attention of both of you, him whipping around to grab the silver crucifix Gabriel thrusts into his face, screaming in pain as he makes contact with the holy item. Jumping away as the crucifix bursts into flames within his hand, beginning to melt. He tosses the remains of it away, regaining his composure at a lightning rate.

“Perhaps that is a conversation for another time.” He takes a few steps back, walking a few feet past you. “Allow me to reintroduce myself, I am Count Vladislaus Dragulia. Born 1422, Murdered 1462.”

‘Vlad’ rings through your head, the memory of glass shattering and screaming echoing through your mind. You don’t realise that the screaming has become real, Van Helsing grabs your hand and pulls you away with him, still in a dissociative state you don’t realise what’s happened until you both make your escape through a dumbwaiter.

The two of you make your way to the roof, running into a frantic Anna. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.” Words rushed to you and her, Gabriel grabbing one arm each and launching off a line, extending all the way over the rushing river below, to the nearby mountain. The three of you speed off, almost making it halfway across before the line suddenly shakes. The werewolf from the house, Anna’s brother, suddenly hitches a ride on the back, sliding a bit before one of its claws slices the line in half, taking you and the half closest to the Castle, down.

You can’t help the deja vu that washes over you as you fall, the freezing cold river below you. The sound of Van Helsing and Anna screaming for you is drowned out by your own.

You can faintly see the outline of someone looking over the edge of the castle railing, a yell of ‘no’ reaching your ears. The person disappears from the edge, only for a winged beast to take their place and jump from the roof. ‘It’s the Count’ you realise somewhere in your mind, closing your eyes in what could only be described as… relief? Even though your heart was beating out of your chest, deep down you knew you’d be alright. The wind is bitterly cold, nipping at your back, whistling in your ears.

Until suddenly it’s not.

Your body smacks into the water, cold overtaking all your senses as your body freezes. You can faintly feel yourself moving, arms weakly flailing to break the surface of the water to no avail. The current of the roaring river continuously pulls you under, giving you no chance to save yourself.

Right before you pass out from either shock or adrenaline you’re faintly aware of being pulled from the water and into the air. You’re held against something much larger than you are. One minute you’re plummeting, falling down and then sinking to your untimely demise and then the next you’re going up, soaring through the air.

And with that, you pass out.

~~~

You drift in and out of consciousness. You can remember being placed in front of a hearth, someone’s lap laid under your head, rough fingers running through your hair. Then three sets of hands and whispering voices, belonging to whom you believe were women, placing and pulling different layers of clothes upon you. You heard conversations about a creature and tracking it down, followed by being picked up by something much larger than you, a hood being pulled over your head, and the flap of great wings.

When you fully wake, it’s to the feeling of flying. Slowly blinking your eyes you try to adjust to the darkness. You realise you’re being carried by a large creature. Pointed ears, flat-bridged nose, and a maw that contained razor sharp teeth. Its wingspan had to spread to at least 15 feet or greater, and had to be at least 12 feet tall. And you realise that it oddly resembles a bat.

You hadn’t realised it was looking at you. Too busy in your observative reverie to notice the slitted dark grey eyes that had snapped your way. The large bat lets out a strange rumble when you make eye contact with it, beginning its descent. You’re laid down on what you assume is grass, watching as the creature soars back into the sky, transforming midair. That’s when you remember the last few hours of your life; officially meeting The Count, and all the strange emotions that came with the introduction, all of the rage, anguish, and nostalgia. And the fact that he had saved you, throwing himself off the top of the castle to rescue you from the river.

He drops back down to the ground with a certain grace and elegance to his actions, slightly bowing with a hand outstretched for theatrics. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he was doing it to lighten the air, immediately throwing you a smile and small chuckle as he does it. You can’t help the smile that overtakes your face as well, accepting the hand he offers you, pulling you off the ground. Finally taking in your surroundings, you realise you’re standing in front of a semi-dilapidated building. It looks to be a small fortress of sorts, surrounded by mountains on either side, along with the faint sound of a rushing river a great distance below you.

“Where are we?” words muttered, turning to gaze at him.

“Poenari.”

‘He can lie and claim to be a hollow man all he wants. But when I finally realised who he was and what he meant to me, I could see the pure emotion overtake his face, and for once I swore I could hear a heartbeat that wasn’t my own.’

The two of you walked silently through the building.

The dank remnants of the castle smelled foul; stagnant. The place reeked of death and sorrow, everything was covered in thick layers of dust. The Count walked quietly behind you, offering no explanation as to why you were here. Walking aimlessly through the corridors, footsteps echoing all around as you turn a corner, a loud gasp ripping its way out of the back of your throat.

The hallway leading to a set of winding stairs was the embodiment of death. Dried blood and half decomposed skeletons line the path, the stale smell of decomposition lingering in the air. You hadn’t realised you’d stopped until a hand placed itself upon the small of your back, gently pushing you forward. You observe the destruction around you, noticing baskets of mouldy, moth-eaten linens, and cleaning supplies next to some of the skeletons. “Servants.” rings out Dracula’s voice behind you, his hand still upon your back. Coming towards the end of the hall, right before the stairwell, you notice a bare spot. There was dried blood in an outline that shows it obviously pooled from someone’s body, but there was a lack of a skeleton, or any sign that one had been there, at least. “What happened to that one?” pointing down at the spot on the floor. “Agnes was buried.” is all he offers.

You kept Agnes with you, after all she’d been one of your closest confidants since your mother had died.

He nudges you up the stairs, guiding you through the dark. At the very top of the stairs was a thick wooden door in the middle of a small hallway. At the end of a hallway was a painting. Unlike everything else in this place the painting was spotless. It looked brand new, not a speck of dust on it, like it had been visited often.

That’s not what captured your attention though. What captured it was that the painting was a portrait of a man and woman. Happy, smiling, loving,

And they looked just like the two of you.

You step forward, shoes lining up in the dust-free imprint of feet much larger than yours; a well-worn spot. Reaching a hand out, fingers gliding across the woman in the painting, your other hand coming up to brush against your own features. Same hair colour, texture, same eyes, same birthmarks and scars. Her hands crossed gently across her lap, upon her ring finger lay the ring you wear around your neck.

Gasping, taking a stumbling step back, you whip around to face him. You can feel your heartbeat pick up, confusion and fear starting to take over. “Why-” breath uneven, “Why did you bring me here? What is this place?”

He brings a hand up to the door, pushing it open and stepping back, a slight sweeping gesture to show you go in first.

“Our home.”

Entering the room, you’re met with what you assume was once a very luxurious room. A dilapidated four-poster bed sits in the middle of the wall that the door is on. The room is stagnant like the rest of the place, but like the painting, free of dust. There’s a dresser, a writing desk, and a gap, from floor to ceiling, jagged shards of glass still remaining around the frame of what was once a window. Torn, mouldy, moth-ridden curtains billow in the light breeze, the stone floor is covered in moss and mould, years of rain pouring in through the opening had made it so.

In the middle of the room is a dark stain on the floor, a trail trickling from the window to it. You don’t want to believe it’s blood, the colour of it is black, too dark to resemble that which was under the skeletons in the hall, but you know. You know that it’s blood and whatever left the puddle wasn’t human. At the thought you cast a glance over your shoulder to the man who brought you here to begin with, he stands in the doorway, and goes no further than that. You take a step towards the gaping hole in the wall, mindful of any shards of glass on the floor.

You can hear the churning of fast moving water, you can hear the wind whipping in the wind, and as you bend slightly to look out, you can hear screaming.

“Who are you?”

“Who I am is of no importance at the moment,”

“Well everything was lined up perfectly, but now, the Voivode has added a new term to the treaty. Your hand in marriage.”

“I hope you’ve learned by now that I mean you no harm.”

‘He always treated you with a gentle hand, was never harsh, never cruel, and he never-ever raised his voice. You were his wife, and you should never need to fear him’

You failed to notice the dark figure in the corner of your room.

“Don’t do this Gabriel,” “Please let go of my wife.”

And with that, he pushes you out the window.

And then everything went dark.

You stumble violently away from the window, knees collapsing under your own weight. A firm presence makes itself known behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist, holding you up. Your vision is spotty, head pounding with this newfound knowledge of a past life and your eyes well with tears. You tilt your head up, making immediate eye contact with the man holding you. Your voice comes out scratchy and choked, “Vlad?” as the tears begin to spill out of your eyes. Vlad gives a pained smile as he turns you around and pulls your body towards his.

The embrace is emotional as you reduce down to nothing but shaky limbs and heart-wrenching sobs. He holds you strongly, there’s not an inch of his body that doesn’t touch yours, and you could swear that in that moment, you could feel another heartbeat alongside yours.

The sound of sizzling breaks you away from the hug, looking up in time to see a singular tear make its trek down his cheek, burning the skin it slides down. You quickly bring up your hand, sleeve pulled around your fist to dry it before it causes anymore damage. As you make a move to bring your hand back down he moves quick as lightning to hold it to his face, head tilting to place a delicate kiss upon the skin of your palm. “I missed you,” the words are soft, your throat still scratchy. “Not as much as I missed you, my darling” and with that, he kisses you.

The kiss is soft, yet powerful. With the force of almost 200 years worth of lost time fueling it. Vlad pulls you even closer, if it were possible. You can still hear the light sizzling where tears are undoubtedly still falling from his eyes. His lips are as soft as you remember, his movements still the same as well. The only difference was his temperature, a constant reminder that you were no longer the same.

A reminder of the reason you were in Transylvania to begin with.

Before you can say anything, Vlad pulls away from you. His left hand continues to hold you firm at the waist while his right moves from your cheek to smooth over the top of your hair, coming to a stop at the nape of your neck, cradling your head. There’s a furrow in his brows as his eyes flit across your face, “What is wrong my darling? Why does your heart panic so?” you close your eyes and gently shake your head.

“What about Gabriel, Vlad?”

“What about him?”

“The only reason we’ve come to Transylvania is so he can kill you, Vlad. He’s vindictive and will not stop until he sees you turn to ash before his feet. Oh this is all my fault,-”

“Do not say these things.” His right hand tilting your head to look at him, “How is any of it your fault, my darling? Fate is not your fault. You were meant to come back to me one day, and now you have.” A delicate kiss placed upon your forehead, “And as for Gabriel. I will handle him myself. Now come, we have somewhere to be.” Taking your hand and gently pulling you back the way you came.

When you make it outside, there's three women dressed in lavish silks, gossamer, and fine jewellery. You find yourself subconsciously clutching his hand harder when the three women outstretch their arms and move towards you. There’s almost an ethereal echoing coming from somewhere as the women surround you, cooing their praises. Delicate hands with thin, claw-like fingers move across you. One hand pats your hair, another down your arm, with a ghosting touch on your back. The women skit around, their movements are graceful, like a dance of sorts, and you find yourself in a trance like state.

“Oh Master,” says the red-headed one, who you recognize as the one Anna called Aleera, “She’s just as perfect as you said.” You find yourself blushing at the statement and the attention that’s being showered upon you. Two cold hands scoop up your face to bring you directly in front of the long black haired one, “You are absolutely stunning, my dear.” “Thank you” whispered quietly, your face practically engulfed in flames.

Casting a glance towards Vlad only to find he’s already looking at you, a gentle smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. The women stop their parade of affection with a singular lift of Vlad’s hand. “Have you taken care of what you needed to?” His voice echoing out with a seriousness to it as he reaches his hand out towards you. “They tricked us with the carriages, master, and escaped with the monster.” You can see the second that the anger forms in his eyes so you pull yourself away from the women to walk towards him, taking his hand and rubbing your thumb upon the back of his knuckles in hopes to sooth him. Your efforts work as he tilts to look down at you, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“No matter. Van Helsing is heading straight for Budapest anyways. Aleera I want you to go and follow them, Verona you go with her.” and with a gesture of his hand the two turn into their other forms and fly off into the night, leaving just Vlad, yourself, and the black-haired woman. “Marishka, take my darling and get her ready for tomorrow evening.” You hear a quiet ‘yes master’ as Vlad places a small kiss in the middle of your forehead, before releasing you to a now winged Marishka. “Don’t worry my darling, Marishka is a gentle flyer.” And with that you’re lifted into the air.

~~~

You’re at a glorious castle in Budapest, a summer home, you remember Verona briefly telling you when her and Aleera finally catch back up. She works quietly and carefully to do your hair while you sit in front of the vanity, slightly nerved by the fact that you wouldn’t even be able to tell she was there if it wasn’t for her brushing and pinning your hair, the lack of a reflection startling. She makes small and polite conversation with you, including an apology for throwing you earlier in the town, as she admitted to not looking to see whom she had grabbed before she picked you up.

“We are truly very excited to have you within our presence, for many years we have all heard stories of you, the heartbreak Dracula felt at the loss of you and your child never truly went away, no matter how we tried to quell it.” Her accented voice lulls quietly through the dim candle-lit room, and you're briefly hit with a burst of guilt and sadness at the idea of them trying to do everything they could to make Vlad feel better, only for him to rebuff their attempts. You can’t help but offer her an apology.

“What for, my dear? You are here now and that’s all that matters, everything is as it should be.” and with that she finishes your hair, which has been gently pinned to your head, curls looking defined. Before you could say anything else she walks away as the two other brides enter the room. Aleera is the first to reach you, lithe fingers gliding down both sides of your neck as her cold hands come to lay delicately upon your shoulders. “You look magnificent,” words cooed to you, “truly stunning.” Finishes off Marishka, taking a seat next to you on the bench as she leans forward to reach for the jewellery.

You hear the shuffling of feet, what you assume to be Verona returning from wherever she had gone. When Marishka is finished clipping in earrings for you, you turn your head to find Verona holding a light blue dress in a style much like that of her and the others dresses. It’s complete with gossamer sleeving that opens up around your wrist and trails all the way down to the floor, a form-fitting partially transparent torso and a loose skirt made of a layered sheer chiffon material. “And now for the final touch.”

~~~

You look and feel like a true goddess as the girls lead you down a hall, you’re conscientiously aware of the ethereal echoing that has returned as they giggle while taking you down to the ballroom. The music grows louder and louder as you approach a large set of double doors, half of a masquerade mask is quickly slipped onto your face as the doors are open and you’re thrust into the room.

There’s hundreds of people in the room, ranging of all ages as you spot children up in the rafters. There’s people dancing, people performing on silks and with fire, and so many other things that it makes it hard to take in the grandeur of the room all at once. You’re aware of how you must look to all the others, jaw dropped and head constantly turning to take in your surroundings. When you turn your head to look back in front of you, you’re met with the sight of Vlad. He’s in his usual clothing, just with a gold cloak tied around his neck, a mask the same chromatic colour to match, with his hand outstretched towards you.

You wordlessly take his hand and allow him to pull you closer, his hands gently begin roaming, one hand quickly lifting the mask to take in your features before dropping it back down to rest on your face. “You look absolutely stunning, my darling.” A cold kiss pressed upon your lips, “May I have the privilege of dancing with you?” Eyes boring into your own, he quirks up the corner of his lips into an ever arrogant smirk. “Why yes you may.” Words whispered towards him quietly, acutely aware of all the eyes that are upon the two of you.

Vlad takes your hand and leads you to the spot directly in front of the platform in which a veiled woman stands upon. The rest of the guests clap as whatever piece of music is being played comes to an end, partners taking their places on the dancefloor. You quickly grab Vlad’s arm as a sudden realisation hits you, “Wait, Vlad, I can’t dance.” eyes wide with fear at the notion of making yourself look like a fool in front of all these refined people. He turns to you with a somewhat reassuring smile on his face, “Don’t worry my darling, you’ve danced this dance many times before. You know what to do.” A look of sheer disbelief covers your features, you open your mouth to throw a sly retort back to him but are promptly cut off as the woman on the stage begins a beautiful aria. He lifts your hand up delicately before softly spinning you outwards. All of a sudden you throw your arm out in a slow and graceful manner, the steps of the dance flooding back into your mind. When you spin back towards him there’s a certain look of, I told you so, overtaking his face, as he grabs your waist and pulls you towards him firmly.

He takes off his mask, then your own, before placing a kiss upon your lips. “I told you that you knew it.” as you both fall back into step with the others, “Of course,” smiling at him softly, “How could I ever forget the steps to the music of our first dance as husband and wife?” A puzzled look quickly takes place upon your face, “Is that the same singer?” question asked as you look back and forth between the veiled woman and Vlad. “You’ll find that many of the faces in this room, once unmasked, will appear very familiar to you.” He spins you until your back is to his front, subconsciously tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck for Vlad to place a cold kiss directly over your pulse point.

The tempo of the music picks up and you, on instinct, fall into a faster spin with Vlad. He dips you in front of a mirror, eyes snapping over to look at your reflection, the way it appears that you’re floating, Vlad nowhere to be found, none of the other guests can be seen either. You come to the sudden realisation that you’re a mere mortal in a room with hundreds of vampires, your mind begins slipping, remembering the fact that you’ve been choosing to ignore to instead relish in your past; Vlad is dead.

An undead creature who never grows old, who feeds on other humans, you realise how temporary your situation with him is in comparison to the rest of his life. This one minute moment in a sea of others that are sure to come, and all of a sudden, your life pales in comparison. You can feel your stomach turning with the sudden acknowledgement, a wave of nausea hitting you. As if he can sense where your thoughts are going he quickly scoops you back up, continuing the dance. “It’s alright my darling,” the hand upon your back quickly sweeping up and down in a soothing gesture. “There’s no need to fear, nothing is going to happen to you, everything is going to be alright.” He stares into your eyes, his own translating the sincerity of his words.

You feel yourself relax with the reassurance, head coming to rest just under his own, your eyes closing as you gently press your face into his chest. “What’s going to happen to me?” you don’t feel the need to elaborate, as you’re sure Vlad already knows what you’re asking. “Nothing that you don’t want. If you choose, it will be one brief moment of pain, and we can be together forever.” You pull your head away from him, your eyes still closed as he dips you once more, his hand skating up the front of your dress to rest upon your neck. “What if I choose yes?” “Then it would be my honour, my love.” A deep breath taken in, then he screams, dropping you in a blaze of fire as the cape he’s wearing begins to burn.

You stand up quickly, worriedly making your way towards him before you’re swept off the ground. All the air is knocked out of your lungs as you tumble onto a balcony, slamming straight into a door. Disoriented, you can make out someone saying your name and shaking your shoulders. “Wake up!” You gaze confused into the eyes of Gabriel, as you hear a voice from down below.

“Gabriel…” his voice is even, words spoken slowly. “Oh Gabriel…” you stagger towards the bannister in time to see Vlad step into the middle of the room, the cloak that he was previously wearing off to the side in a smouldering pile. All the guests have cleared a wide berth for Vlad as he stops and gazes upwards, a certain fear emanating from them. “Oh Gabriel, welcome to my summer palace.” A smirk thrown up towards him before he turns his eyes towards you, giving you a subtle nod as Igor bursts into the room with the Frankenstein monster in tow, screaming his revenge.

“Now that everything… is as it should be… Ladies and Gentlemen, I give to you; Van Helsing!” The hundreds of vampires in the room unmask themselves, faces morphing into their sinister counterparts. The sound of screaming and screeching fills the room as you cover your ears, eyes cinching shut. Gabriel takes this as his moment to wrap an arm around you, pulling you away. You protest, squirming in an attempt to get out of his grip, which only causes him to hold you tighter and lift you off your feet.

He burst through the door that you ran into, where you’re met with Anna right next to the door and Carl at the end of the hall next to a stained glass window. Passing Anna she grabs your arm, beginning to pick up speed with Van Helsing, causing you to squirm more, “Gabriel put me down!” But the protests fall on deaf ears. He strides with purpose towards Carl, a walk turning into a run. “O-Oh where are we going?” Carl stutters, dropping a device onto the floor, “Out the window!” and before either you nor Carl can protest, you shatter the probably thousand year old stained glass as you jump through.

As you drop towards yet another river, a light equivalent to the sun fills up the entire palace, shattering all the other windows. The only thing you can think to do as you hurl through the air is to scream for Vlad, worried that he was caught in the blast of light, and then you once more drop into water.

As you resurface you can hear the echoing of screams in the aether, your head continuously goes up and down as you struggle to get your bearings and to reorient yourself. Once you come up for good you take gasping breaths. Gabriel floats next to you, panting for breath with a certain ecstatic look upon his face, “Carl, you're a genius!” “Yes, a genius with access to unstable chemicals.”

You watch as a boat with Igor, the Frankenstein Monster, and a few other strange looking creatures depart from the port, Van Helsing furiously swimming towards him, Carl and Anna following after. But you remain still. You can’t help but allow yourself to be consumed by the water for a moment, dropping back beneath the rippling current. The water is cold, all consuming, sending a shiver down your spine. You open your eyes, gazing up to see the moonlight cutting through the water and shining down to where you float. You watch the bones and remains of the vampires sink down to the bottom of the moat, the realisation that Vlad or any of the brides could be amongst them fill you with such an overpowering sense of loss. You clench your eyes shut and with the last little bits of breath in your lungs you scream. The air bubbles out of your mouth, floating upwards, you follow them, still screaming when you break the surface.

The scream gains the attention of Gabriel, Anna, and Carl, who now hold onto a portcullis that had come down from the castle. Your voice gives out, eyes going blurry with tears, choked sobs making their way past your lips. You hear Anna call your name in a worried tone, beginning to make her way over to you. “Stay away,” voice so quiet that no one should have heard it, but Gabriel gives a sharp “Why?” You lift your head up to look at him, trying to blink the rain and tears out of your eyes. You’re about to say something but you see the half-circular red mark that had welted and scabbed over peeking out of his partially unbuttoned shirt. You’d recognize that mark anywhere. Years of pouring over all the books on the supernatural that you could find in the Abbey, hearing stories from Carl about the creation of monsters.

Van Helsing had been bitten by a werewolf.

Sensing your gaze upon the mark he places his hand over it. You continue to stare at him, not saying a word as Anna reaches you to place a comforting hand upon your shoulder. You hear her quietly ask what's wrong, turning to look at her, you see an abundance of understanding and hesitancy in her eyes. Could she know? Know that you felt your allegiances slipping to the other side? It was certain that Van Helsing knew, given by the anger in his eyes.

You open your mouth to say something when the echoing sound of laughter comes through the air. You’d recognize that laugh anywhere. Three light shadows move through the sky, followed by one large dark shadow. You gasp as all 4 come swooping down towards the water, edges of wings slicing across the surface sending sprays arcing into the air. You watch as Carl and Van Helsing duck, Anna following their actions as well, her hand that was still on your arm tries to pull you down with her but before she can Vlad follows behind his brides, swooping down towards the water and plucking you from the surface.

He makes a sharp turn upwards almost grazing the portcullis before flying higher and higher into the sky. He then straightens back out as you hang below him, Vlad holding onto you under your armpits as Aleera slows down to allow him to pass her before she places herself directly in front of you. You turn your head to look at her, noticing the ball of dark fabric within her arms. Watching as she unfurls it to reveal a cloak, placing the hood on top of your head before fastening it in place just below your collarbones. When it’s on you she gives a sharp grin before letting out another laugh and speeding up to resume her spot with Verona and Marishka. The wind whips at your back, causing the cloak to wrap around your front, you feel yourself being pulled up and jostled around until you’re almost in a position that resembles a bridal carry. Vlad uses one hand to pull the cloak all the way around your body, nestling you against him. You pull the hood further over your head before wrapping your arms into the cloak, balling it into your fists to hold onto the fabric, you turn your head until the wind is at the back of it, and at no risk of blowing the hood off.

You shiver from the cold of your wet clothes, from the cold of the rain that is still falling, and from the wind that gets stronger from how fast you’re going through the air, the shivering leads to you being pulled impossibly closer to the creature that carries you, looking up to find sharp eyes already upon you, bat ears swivelling back and forth, listening for any signs of danger or discomfort. You can’t really read his expression, not in this form anyways.

“How is it that I always end up falling from dangerous heights into water?” giving a half-hearted smile to convey that you’re telling a joke, and that you’ll be okay. You’re not given a verbal response, just a deep chuckle and the slight digging of sharp claws into your back, almost like his little way of jokingly warning you to ‘knock it off’. You let out a small giggle, laying your head against him once more, before closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep.

~~~

‘The peace that I felt, the sense of homeliness within the presence of Vlad and his Brides. The comfort of having these people who loved and cared for one another begin to love and care for me was something that I cannot describe in its entirety to you.’

There was no telling how long you were into the flight or where exactly you were going when you woke up. Your clothes were dry and the rain had stopped, although the clouds wherever you were out hovered ominously in the air with the promise of more. You let out a yawn, trying your best to stretch out your limbs while not trying to move so much that you felt like you’d fall. You feel a large hand about three times the size of your own smooth itself over the top of your hooded head before a deep rumbling voice lets out a curt remark of “Almost there.”

It’s then that you see a large castle, much bigger than Castle Frankenstein or the one in Budapest. It has a bridge that leads nowhere, broken off not even one-fourth of the way across, surrounded by a deep abysmal ravine and peaks of snowy mountains for as far as the eyes can see, offering no way in, and no way out.

Unless you had wings of course.

The wives drop down around the halfway mark of the crumbled bridge and Vlad follows suit, dropping down effortlessly, transforming mid-descent, all with you still in his arms. He sets you on your feet slowly as the other three come towards you, their steps almost floating, the ethereal echoing filling the air around you once more. Hands come out to pat your hair and your clothes, various questions being thrown about; Are you alright? Are you cold? Do you need anything? You can’t help but fluster under all the attention, feeling your face grow warm. You go to answer their question before you’re caught off guard by a sneeze, which makes you shiver and bundle back into the cloak. They’re immediately sent into a panicked frenzy, going on about you falling ill from all the rain and cold, mumbles about a warm bath are the last thing you hear as they all disappear towards the castle doors, leaving you and Vlad standing there by yourselves.

You turn to look at him, only to find him already staring at you, not that you’re surprised. He has this soft look in his eyes, one that you saw many times throughout your marriage in your previous life, there’s a smile on his face and you could swear that there was colour in his cheeks.

You gaze around at your surroundings and are met with the sight of skeletons impaled on posts lining the bridge, giving Vlad an incredulous look you’re met with a look of sheer innocence. “Well I’ve seen this decor before.” laughing as you speak, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Vlad instantly responds without pause, wrapping his right arm around your shoulders, walking you towards the castle doors. “Oh really? So you’d have me believe that this is the doing of your brides?” feigning ignorance as you gently hit your forehead, “Oh silly me I had almost forgotten that you were married to Verona the Impaler.” sarcasm drips from your every word as he turns his head to look at you from under his brow.

The walk remains silent for the next few minutes as you make your way inside the castle and begin traversing up the stairs. “Vlad,” met with a small hum, “How did you find this place?” You’re met with silence, watching as various emotions subtly twinge his features. “I didn’t find this place. I was banished here.” He doesn’t elaborate as you come to a set of doors, arm leaving your shoulders to hold it open for you. It opens to an expansive room, with another door in the room that is currently open with gentle wafts of steam billowing out of it. You’re met with the brides, who are finishing up drawing you a bath. You thank them repeatedly, stating that they didn’t need to do that for you, but are quickly silenced as they leave the room, except for Verona.

“I’ll take your dress for you so it may be cleaned. The water has muddied it.” Giving a nod, you take off the cloak and move to drop it next to you before a hand swoops out and grabs it, throwing it over his forearm. Vlad then moves behind you to untie the laces of your dress, loosening it enough for you to drop it down your shoulders, where it is then promptly taken by Verona who leaves the room soon after.

You make your way to the tub, trying to throw a leg over the edge in a very ungraceful manner before a hand is quickly placed on the small of your back, stabilising you as you lower yourself into the water that was at a perfect temperature. You move to take off all your jewellery, realising that you’re still wearing your wedding ring on a chain. Taking off the chain you remove the ring, acutely aware of Vlad’s eyes on you, sliding it onto your finger where it rightly belongs.

“Are we still technically married?” question thrown thoughtlessly, “If I… you know, died.” growing quiet at the acknowledgement of your death, looking down and frowning to yourself. “Oh of course we are, my darling.” A cool hand tilting your chin back up to deliver you a kiss before pulling your head back some more to wet your hair. “Do not think otherwise.”

You sit in a calm silence as he gently washes your hair before you decide to address what was really bothering you. “So, you were banished? By who?” He’s quiet for a few moments, the only sound in the room being the gently scraping of his claws as he swirls your hair around. “My father.” he says, voice nothing but a whisper, “after you and I died, I had a vision. The Devil had come to visit me to offer me eternal life, on the one condition that I would have to feast upon the living. I didn’t want it at first, I knew you were already gone, and the thought of living eternally without you was too much to bear, but the Devil told me that I’d be able to get you back if I agreed, so without thinking I made a pact with him.”

Listening quietly as he rinses your hair and moves onto your body.

“When I awoke, I was in our home, in a pool of my own dried up blood. I saw the wreckage of the room and the rest of the estate and had no other option but to travel back to town. I walked on foot until I reached the Village where I was then met with the frightened looks of all the townspeople. When I arrived at the home of my father he was so disgusted by me and the demon that I had become that he had his men clap me in irons and walk me to a door of which there was no return, banishing me to this castle. I laid weak at the very edge of that bridge for many weeks, hoping that someone would come to let me back through, but when it was obvious that no one was coming, and that I was growing hungrier and weaker, I called upon the Devil once more, and he gave me wings.”

You turn to look at him when the sound of light sizzling reaches your ears. “Oh, Vlad.” Reaching forward, the water of the tub gently sloshing with your movements, you place your hands on both sides of his face, fingers swiping carefully under his eyes to stop the tears before they can cause anymore damage. You pull his face towards you, placing your forehead against his own, closing your eyes and basking in the comfort of his presence. “I’m so sorry.” “You have nothing to be sorry for, my darling.” Leaning forward to kiss him, you move one hand upwards to push the wayward strand of hair out of his face. His own hands come up to cradle your head, smoothing down over the back of your neck. “You would not imagine how torturous of an existence it was without you.” Voice hoarse and deep, his eyes darting back and forth across your face. “I think I could.” Leaning back up to kiss him once more, this one lasting longer than the previous one. You press your lips impossibly closer against his own, letting a soft noise of content escape your throat, that draws a hum from Vlad in return.

“You don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to.” Pulling away and giving him the most sincere look you possibly could. The droplets of water on your back had dried and left you chilled, quickly dunking your body back underneath the surface of the warm water while Vlad reached for a very soft linen, gathering up all your hair and gently patting it dry. “No, no, it’s alright, my darling. After the Devil gave me wings I travelled to feast and rebuild my strength, then I went looking for you. Your body had washed up on a bit of shore quite far down the river, the shore was connected to a small alcove of trees and flowers. I buried you there, along with Agnes, where no one would ever be able to bother you.” He finishes with your hair, moving to grab another linen which he holds out across both arms. You take the initiative and lift yourself up and out of the tub, grabbing onto his shoulder for support as he wraps the soft and plush fabric around you, before helping you out.

When you reenter the grand bedroom you find that a fire has been lit in the fireplace across from the bed, the flames roaring and flickering, filling the space with a comfortable warmth. You also find, to your shock, that your dress is sitting dry on the edge of the bed, cleaned and looking brand new. “Help me with it?” gesturing your hand to the dress, moving towards it as Vlad does the same, continuing with his story as he laces it up for you.

“My existence trudged by slowly and painfully for many years after that. Even though I no longer feel emotion the way I once did, I can still feel hints of it, little tuggings of yearning or sorrow. I needed something to fill the loss, and that’s when I found Verona. She was a princess, if you couldn’t tell, she had regality and poise and she was stubborn in a way that reminded me of you. Then Marishka, who was a dancer in a travelling show, and then Aleera, who lived in the Village with Anna.” You raise your eyebrows, even though he can’t see it. “I didn’t realise that Aleera was that young.” a taunting lilt in your voice, remembering that you were only twenty years old when Vlad married you in 1460.

He pulls a little tighter on the strings, causing you to gasp and whip your head around to give him a look that simply says ‘Seriously?’ You open your mouth to say something when your stomach lets out a sound that rivals that of the fire blazing in the room, a heat filling your face as you slightly pucker your lips out of embarrassment. He laughs at this, tying off your dress. “Come, let’s get you something to eat.”

~~~

You spend the next two days relaxing in the company of the Brides, the more time you spend with them the more you come to love them. Marishka is witty, Aleera is a gossip, and Verona is a scholar, and their varying personalities make for a refreshing change throughout the day. You had, however, indulged all the girls in stories of what Vlad was like when he was still alive, the wistful look in all their eyes making it hard to deny them anything. You didn’t leave out a single detail, telling stories that made the girls cry, giggle, and blush, saying things that Vlad would surely deny if he was ever asked about them.

Vlad had disappeared, to where exactly in the castle, you weren’t sure, but you were fairly certain it had something to do with the Frankenstein Monster and reviving the undead children. Even though the girls could keep you distracted you couldn’t help but have that nagging fear at the back of your mind; Van Helsing was still out there, and he wouldn’t stop until Vlad and the Brides were dead. Gabriel is vindictive and persistent, and you’ve seen what happens to those who test him. You’d expressed these feelings to the Brides, who had immediately began comforting you, the ethereal echoing and cooing bouncing off the stone walls as you were hugged and held while you spilled your every thought to them.

When you’d told them that Gabriel had been bitten by a werewolf, they all grew deadly quiet. The cooing had quickly turned into scared whispers that sent a chill down your spine before Verona quickly jumped up, changed, then flew off, presumably to pass this new information along to Vlad.

“Vlad can control the wolves though, right?” A look passes between Marishka and Aleera, before the latter turns to you, “Only after their first full moon, before that they pose so much trouble.” “We can be killed by stakes, holy water, and other things, but Vlad is the first of us, our master, and he cannot be killed so easily.” chimes in Marishka before also leaving, quickly following after Verona. “There is only one thing in this world that can kill Dracula.” words spoken softly, timidly, Aleera sliding a hand down your arm before she moves to leave. “Can you guess what it is?”

Yes, you could guess. A werewolf.

~~~

‘The final battle was beginning. I could feel myself being split in two, the half that was loyal to Anna, Carl, Van Helsing and the Vatican was fighting the half that was loyal to my husband, Verona, Marishka, and Aleera.

You had spent the rest of the night alone, sleep not finding you as you retired back to the bedroom, only to pace back and forth, nerves and nausea tearing at your stomach. It was later on during the witching hour when the door quietly opened, a dark figure making its way inside. “Vlad!” Crying out his name breathlessly, rushing to him to throw your head into his chest and your arms around his waist. His arms immediately find their way around you, pulling you so tight against him that there is no way to move, a gentle kiss pressed against the top of your head.

He bends his knees, one arm lowering to rest right beneath your butt, hoisting you up effortlessly into his arms before walking over to the bed and laying down with you atop him. Your head lays on his chest, yet the room is absolutely silent. There is no noise beneath your ear, no gentle pulsing of a heartbeat, just hollow silence. The two of you say no words, and truth be told you don’t really think any need be spoken. You both understand what is to come, the battle that is no doubt making its way towards you. Vlad just holds you, a hand atop your head, lithe fingers running through your hair in a soothing manner. You feel yourself drifting to sleep, eyes growing heavy. You can hear him mummering to you in a language long forgotten in your dreary haze, making out a few words here and there.

Another kiss is placed gently upon your forehead as the heavy covers of the bed are pulled up and over you, protecting you from the bitter cold of the castle. And with that, you sleep.

~~~

When you awake it is to the sound of thunder, and the view of lightning and pouring rain. There’s just the tiniest hint of light filtering through the rain, but the ever-prevalent darkness tells you that it’s almost nighttime, meaning that you’ve woken up just before everyone else. You step out of bed, stretching, before making your way over to the door. As you step out you’re met with the sight of the Dwergi roaming through the halls carrying various tools and papers. They don’t speak to you, they don’t even look at you, they just continue bustling down the hall as if you weren’t even there. You go the opposite direction of the Dwergi and make your way down the flight of stairs that leads to the connecting hall of the castle that will lead you to the wing where Vlad and the girls sleep.

It’s then that you can hear the frantic blubbering of Igor from the main entrance. “How did you- how did you find… it’s impossible!” Quickly peeking out from around the corner of the door, you’re met with the sight of Igor hanging from the wall, blubbering some more as the person in front of him throws a hand around his neck.

Van Helsing was here.

You quickly try to think of a way to get around them so you can warn Vlad that they’re here when a loud shriek fills the entire castle, reverberating off the walls so loudly that you have to cover your ears for a split moment. You can faintly hear Igor, “my master has awakened,” and you take that as your moment to quickly sprint across the hall when the attention of everyone is taken by the Frankenstein Monster.

You run up the stairs, following your instinct of where Vlad would be. You know that usually when he awakes he goes to the overseeing of the Dwergi working on bringing the children back to life, so you run as fast as you can to the Laboratory. Making your way up the spiral staircase that leads to the top of the tower you’re hit with the strangest sense of Deja Vu, ignoring the pit in your stomach that tells you the last time you went up a staircase like this you died.

The doors open as you approach them, the Dwergi ever diligent in their appeasement of the masters of this home. You quickly stride across the room, dodging sparks and Dwergi before making your way to Vlad in the middle of the room. “Vlad! Vlad he’s here, Van Helsing is here.” words spoken in a panic, eyes wide open as you gasp for breath. You’re sure he can feel your fear, your heartbeat pounding wildly out of control, the whooshing of blood in your ears making it hard to hear anything else.

His eyebrows furrow before his facial features morph into one of sheer rage, face partially transforming as he lets out an inhuman screech. Not even a split second later, Verona, Marishka, and Aleera appear before you, awaiting word from Vlad. “If Van Helsing has truly been bitten, they will go for the cure, I want you to go and stop them. Stop them and bring the cure to me.” They disappear as fast as they arrive, flying off in a mixture of shrieks and laughs.

“And as for you, my darling.” Turning to look at you before you promptly cut him off. “No, I’m staying right here.” He protests, but you shut those down as well. “No, Vlad. You remember what happened the last time Van Helsing broke into our home and we were both apart from one another.” The question was rhetorical, and it seemed to garner the reaction that you wanted, Vlad seeming to be in deep thought. He slowly nods his head, but points back over to the door. “Fine, but you stay over there. Out of the way, you forget that you are still human, my darling.”

You wait anxiously by the door like Vlad told you, watching as lightning strikes and fills the room with an eerie green glow. Throwing your arms over your head for some form of protection as you hear a shout of “Give me life!” echo through the room. “One more bolt and my young will live!” You watch as Vlad suddenly becomes enraged, flying through one of the glass windows of the room.

Moments later Van Helsing drops through the open tower that leads into the middle of the room, setting a few Dwergi on fire as he bursts through machinery. He stumbles as he stands back up, face twisted in confusion and pain, looking around the room. He spots you by the door, in your dress, covered in jewels with your hair done, looking every bit the part of one of Vlad’s brides. He looks betrayed, and for a moment you feel a sharp pain in your chest, wishing that you could say something to him, but before you could even think of what to say, Vlad drops back down, quietly behind Gabriel, sneaking up on him.

“You are too late, my friend! My children live!” Vlad exclaims, stalking towards Gabriel, “Then the only way to kill them, is to kill you.” Nodding his head with a loose hand gesture, “Correct.” This causes Gabriel to laugh as he moves in front of the window, “Then so be it!” dropping his coat off as the clock strikes midnight. He transforms into a wolf with each toll of the clock as Vlad gives you a quick look before feigning surprise, maniacally laughing.

“We are both part of the same great game, Gabriel! But we need not find ourselves on opposite sides of the board!” Quickly changing himself as he and Gabriel begin fighting one another. You duck down quickly next to a barrel as they traverse the whole room, explosions following their movements.

You watch as Vlad throws a board off of himself, walking towards the middle of the room. “You are being used, Gabriel, as was I, but I escaped, so can you!” Before quickly flying off as Van Helsing jumps for him. You gasp as Vlad is thrown to the ground in a sound of extreme pain, revealing a broken wing. Watching as he jumps up to a platform, before falling, rolling over to his side to reveal that he is covered in blood and scratches. Van Helsing extends his claws before dragging them down a pillar in a threatening manner, jumping up to Vlad.

“Don’t you understand?” Backing away from Van Helsing, there’s a very obvious limp in his gait, causing you to step out from your spot, moving closer to where the two are. “We could be… We could be friends! Partners! Brothers in arms!” trying in vain to get away as Van Helsing catches him by the neck. You scream out his name, moving towards him before an arm is quickly gestured in your way, a sign for you to stay away.

“Did I mention that it was you who murdered me? It must be such a burden, such a curse, to be the left hand of God.” Quickly appearing behind Van Helsing, “All I want is life, Gabriel. The continuation of my kind.” He throws a look towards you before holding up his hand, ring finger suddenly missing, “And perhaps the return of my ring! Don’t be afraid Gabriel, don’t be afraid. I shall give you back your life, your memory.”

You miss the rest of what happens as a vial is placed in your hand. Snapping your head around your met with Verona, her vampiric face covered in scratches and bloody marks. “Give it to him, we must finish holding off the monster and the girl.” Flying back off to wherever she came from, you turn around right as Van Helsing jumps across the room, pinning Vlad to a piece of machinery, catching him off guard.

He struggles to fight him off, Van Helsing's mouth getting closer and closer to Vlads neck. Vlad is using both hands to try and keep the werewolf as far away from him as possible, so giving him the cure is out of the option.

There’s only one thing that you can do.

Running across the room you’re able to make it to the pair right as Vlad’s arms give out from the effort of keeping Van Helsing away. He goes in for the finishing move but before he can your shoe scuffs against the floor, gaining his attention. He turns around, growling, pouncing on you without even a second look. You gasp as you’re hit, vaguely registering Vlad scream as you fly through the air with the wolf, quickly sticking the syringe into his side as you hit against a pillar, landing limply on the ground.

Eyes wide open, but not seeing, slowly clouding over as you breathe your last breath, leaving nothing but a corpse on the floor.

~~~

“No! What have you done!” words screamed throughout the room, Dracula making an ear-piercing shriek as he made his way across to you, pulling you into his arms, gently cradling your head. Cries of pain and shock are heard throughout the room as Gabriel turns back into himself, dropping to his knees before the dead body of his friend.

Dracula is muttering words to you that Gabriel can’t understand as the three brides come bursting in through a window, one of them grabbing him by his shoulders and throwing him out the window onto the bridge that connects to the mirror they came through. On the bridge he is met with the sight of Anna, Carl, and the Frankenstein Monster slumped against the reflective surface. He approaches, shaking the shoulders of Anna and Carl to wake them up. Anna awakens first, groggily, “What is it? What happened?” placing her hand atop of Gabriels, the fog of her mind clearing away as she realises that Gabriel is crying. “What is it, Van Helsing, what has happened? Is Dracula dead?” He shakes his head, mummering your name quietly. “What about her? Is she alright?” He makes eye contact with Carl who is now also awake, watching as the realisation hits Carl, lip quivering “She’s dead.” Carl says with a finality, hanging his head and also crying.

Van Helsing places his hand and quietly murmurs the word that will get the door to open before standing up and limping his way through.

Damn the Vatican, as far as they’ll know, Dracula was defeated.

~~~

“No! What have you done!” words choked out through his injured throat. He lets out a shriek that will summon his Brides to him, running towards you before swooping to his knees, grabbing you, watching as your limbs remain limp, head flopping on a broken neck. He can feel the tears come, feel them burning tracks through his skin but he can’t find it in himself to care. He’s vaguely aware of Verona riding the room of Van Helsing, before all three of his brides drop sadly next to him, all of them holding onto you. Cries echo throughout the room, his pain is their pain, but their pain is also their own, given all the bonding they had done with you over the past few days.

He places one hand upon your chest, right over your heart, and that’s when he feels one faint, barely-there swoosh of blood travelling through the organ.

It’s not too late.

Ducking his head down immediately to latch his teeth onto your neck, draining you of your blood. He holds his arm out, feeling a nail slice down his wrist, not sure who’s but it really doesn’t matter. He holds his hand to your face as he continues to drink your blood, watching his own trickle into your mouth. He pulls away from you, leaning his head towards his shoulder to wipe his mouth off, waiting for the cut on his wrist to heal itself, deeming that enough of his blood had been shared.

You remain eerily still. Not a twitch of the muscles, a blink of the eye, nothing. “Normally there would be a reaction by now.” words murmured to himself, but are met by the supportive whispers and touches of his Brides. “Oh, my Lord.” Verona speaks, running a gentle hand across his face, “It takes some time, you remember how long it was until it took with Marishka. We waited almost all night.” Marishka murmurs her agreement, remembering the words spoken to her when she had awoken to her new life, ‘We thought you weren’t going to make it.’ But she had made it, and surely you would too.

“Let's move her to her room, master.” Aleera standing up and moving towards the door, “She will be more comfortable there.” Vlad can’t help but agree, moving his arm that wasn’t cradling your head under your knees and scooping you up, making his way towards the door. He walks quietly through the halls, dropping you gently on the bed before making his way to the bathroom to retrieve a damp linen to wipe the blood off with. When he arrives back in the main suite he notices that his Brides have already removed all your jewels and undressed you, finding a soft shirt that Vlad briefly recognizes as one of his own to take the place of the dress you were wearing.

He quietly wipes down your shoulder where he bit you, small flakes of dry and crusted blood coming off with ease. He then tosses the linen off to the side and takes a gentle seat next to you on the bed so as to not jostle you around.

Vlad is a patient man, and vows to sit and wait for as long as you may need.

~~~

You wake up in the room that belongs to you and Vlad. Sunlight shining in through the large windows, filling the room with tiny fragments of rainbows. You turn your head to the side and gaze upon your husband sleeping peacefully beside you, not being able to help the soft smile that overtakes your face. Leaning back down to place a flurry of kisses along the warm skin of his face, giggling quietly to yourself.

The quiet romanian muttering as he stretches all his limbs at once alert you to the fact that you have succeeded in waking him up, watching as he cracks one eye open for only a split second before it closes again. “It is far too early, my darling.” His arm comes to pull you back down towards the plush surface of the bed, wrapping you up snug against himself. “Too early? Vlad, it's daytime.” “Still far too early for my taste, and besides, you should be getting all the rest you can.” A finger poking gently at your stomach. “It will be good for you both.”

You don’t argue, cuddling up to him and placing your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Wait, Vlad doesn’t have a heartbeat.

You snap open your eyes, the room is no longer sunny, it’s stormy and reeks of death. You’re covered head to toe in blood and Vlad’s dead body is laying in the centre of the room, hand clutching his chest, a pool of blood surrounding him.

You spin around, breathing, panicking, turning towards the doorway when a hand of claws snatches you up by the neck; Gabriel. He walks you to the window before throwing you out, you fall, plummeting towards your doom, when all of a sudden you stop.

You stop mid-air, something catching you. Turning your gaze upwards assuming you’d find something holding yourself, something that was preventing you from falling, only to find nothing but clear sky. You hear the gentle whooshing of wings, grey clipping through your line of sight out of your peripheral vision. Frantically looking around, slightly panicked you realise that the wings are yours. Looking down at the rest of you only to be faced with the sight of ashy grey skin, hands lifting up revealing lithe fingers with monstrous claws.

You don’t panic, no, instead you revel in it. Smiling to yourself as you launch yourself into the sky, wings working furiously to move you higher and higher, and you bask in the feeling of freedom that it brings you. You move up towards the clouds, white filling your vision.

And then you wake up.

~~~

You open your eyes, overwhelmed by everything you see.

It’s as if the whole world has changed, everything is so much more clear than it used to be. You can see everything; the intercrossing of the fabric of the sheets that lay overtop of you, the various colours of the flickering flames in the fireplace across the room, the detail of each individual snowflake that falls in front of the window. Turning your vision to the left, finding Vlad sitting on the edge of the bed facing the wall.

Moving a hand from where it lays across your chest to place it gently on his arm. He jumps in surprise as you snap him out of whatever melancholic reverie that he was in, head snapping around to gaze at you in pure disbelief and relief. He scoops you up into a sitting position as he pulls your torso against his own in what should have been, quite literally, a bone crushing hug. “I thought it hadn’t worked.” words muffled from where his head lays pressed against the crook of your neck. “You were so still for so long, I… Never, never leave me again, I couldn’t bear it.”

Pulling your head back slightly, Vlad doing the same, the two of you hold eye contact for a moment, opening your mouth to say something you instantly grimace, closing it back and reaching a hand up to grasp your throat, a searing pain now making itself known, a pain that you recognize as thirst. “Are you hungry?” Nodding your head to him at the same time the door to the room bursts open, Verona, Marishka, and Aleera pouring into the room in a symphony of ethereal echoings and giggles. Aleera is carrying a cup of a viscous red fluid which she then hands over to you. “Perfectly aged, to tide you over until we can get to the village.”

Taking the contents of the cup with greedy gulps, you find that it doesn’t taste as metallic as you would’ve thought, in fact it’s not metallic at all, it’s actually rather sweet. It helps the pain in your throat enough that you can pretend it’s not there, at least until you get some more. The other four people in the room watching your reaction, and as you tilt the cup all the way to the ceiling to try and get the last dregs from it there’s a deep chuckle from Vlad.

“Don’t worry, my darling, we’ll leave for the village and then you may sate your thirst.”

The girls grab you, pulling you up from the bed, once the sheet drops you realise that you’re back in your dress, fully looking the part of your new life. There’s giggling and excitement filling the air, and you can help but practically vibrate in place from the joy that’s coursing through your veins. Once you’re up you all prance out the door and into the hallway.

Vlad watches on in contentment at the billowing of green, yellow, pink, and blue fabrics through the hallway, the four of you radiating sheer joy and happiness.

You’re not exactly sure where you’re going, but you follow the girls willingly. They lead you to a large room with dramatic arches on the ceiling, and large, sheer drapes hanging down from various spots. There’s a thick stone coffin with no top lying in the dead centre of the room surrounded by tall candelabras and you assume that it’s Vlad’s, which leads you to wonder where the girls sleep. Across the room there’s a carved out arch that leads to nothing but a solid wall, and you wonder what it’s even there for. When Vlad finally does catch up to you he throws his arms out wide, welcoming all four of you to him. When you’re all together you begin to slide across the floor towards the wall, the second you come into contact with it, you seem to almost melt through it, coming out the other side to a room that you remember being in Castle Frankenstein.

It’s a portal.

There’s an open skylight in the room that it leads out into, and when the girls begin to transform you know that’s your exit to the village. They fly up, leaving you and Vlad alone in the room, but hovering over the Castle, flying around in circles until you’re ready to join them.

You stand awkwardly for a moment, turning to look at Vlad. “Um, how do I, you know,” arm coming up to gesture loosely towards the sky. “There’s really no way to explain it, you don’t think, my darling, you just do it.” Transforming himself, lapels melding into wings before he too, takes flight.

“Oh yes because that advice is so helpful.” mumbling under your breath even though you know that he can hear you still, nevertheless you try to take his advice, willing yourself to fly, closing your eyes tight and balling up your fists to focus. When you hear cackles of laughter close by you open your eyes back up, realising that you’ve lifted through the skylight and are in-fact flying. Your skin grey to match the wives, equipped with claws and teeth of your own.

You fly in a few test circles before giving a reassuring nod to them all. Then, you all take off towards the village. As you fly, you notice three horses racing through the mountains out of the corner of your eye, your newfound heightened senses allowing you to see miles ahead of where you used to be able to before.

Upon one of the horses, is someone in a shaggy brown cloak; Carl. On the second, someone with a head full of curls, bouncing behind them with the movement of the horse; Anna. And on the last, someone who wears a leather coat and a hat, someone who with all his training surely recognises the feeling of the eyes that lay upon him as his head turns to look back, someone who notices that there is one more bat in the air than there used to be, someone who ignores this fact as he turns back around and continues on his way.

And so do you.

Originally posted April 14th, 2023.

#dracula x reader #count vladislaus dragulia x reader #count vladislaus dracula x reader #Van Helsing (2004)#vampire x reader #1-800fandomqueen #mywriting

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cer-rata · 13 days

Note

Fav batfam ships?

See, making that plural was a mistake, dear Anon, because now I have an excuse to list one for every member I care about and also explain myself--

In no particular order:

Bruce and Talia: Partially because I am god's strongest (and most delusional) soldier and can ignore anything racist and OOC in all of her depictions over the last 20 years. I honestly think it's hilarious how disgustingly horny they are for each other and how absolutely stupid they get when left alone together. 10/10 so funny I could die, let them be dumb together as a treat.

Dick and Koriand'r: Listen. It's basic. They have problems, they've always had problems, but when the story and editorial direction allows for it they make each other so happy. Two traumatized kids from across the stars that find a moment of safety with each other? I am a simple man, it compels me.

Kate and Renee: I'm a sucker for disaster lesbians. I am. They are the avatars of lesbian disaterism and honestly good for them, keep making Aphrodite wildly upset with how hard you both can fumble a baddie, laddies.

Stephanie and Cassandra: It's popular for a reason! They are so wildly different while being weirdly similar! They care about each other in ways that are so genuine and raw, but aren't always helpful to the other party! Visually they look like a classic emo/sunshine ship, but if you investigate even a little bit it's quickly obvious that their dynamic is much weirder and more interesting. See also: the above disaster lesbians (wlw specifically here but the sentiment stands) thing.

Barbara and...Kara(?): ...This is my badly substantiated rarepair that also relies on a reality where Kara wasn't aged down. I just...it is one of the two variations of Superbat that compels me, and it purely comes down to the intensity of their personalities, the emotional weight they both carry, their intense understanding of loss and duty, and the fact that as Oracle and Supergirl they manage to have similarly heavy responsibilities on their shoulders.

Damian and Jon: The other variation of Superbat that compels me. Look. They've never got to have any consistent, wholesome, appropriate or healthy close relationships with any other viable options first off, so this isn't hard. Second, their arcs are literally designed to compliment each other, and the groundwork for that was laid out for sooo many issues. It's the opposite of Babs and Kara where there is actually so much content to be compelled by that it circles back to being painful again. Now, to be clear, I have no interest in anything happening with them unless and until they are allowed to be adults, mostly because I think those character arcs need come to completion before anything more than being best buds happens. Also, as god's strongest (and most delusional) soldier, the volcano didn't happen, Jon is going age normally and get to go to high school, they're going to fix it okay, there's a space whale--

Tim and Jason are in a weird "Y shaped" poly situation with a hairy bear named "Intensive Mental Health Care": No I will not be elaborating further.

Duke and ???: I love Duke. I have not been compelled by a ship for him yet. I know Tom King tried to make him and Gotham Girl a thing but...who wants that? I even like Gotham Girl enough to write for her, but WHO WANTS THAT!?

Anyone else I really haven't thought enough about to include...however....

HONORABLE MENTIONS THAT I DON'T WANT BUT SOMEHOW COMPEL ME:

Bruce and Minhkhoa: So funny, almost a parody of Bruce in a MLM ship, painfully comedic, Khoa is a disaster of a man and the most down bad creature on earth, beating even Talia on the obsession angle. Never let them prosper, never let them get it together, let me feast on this crack made canon.

Bruce and Selina: I DO like me some batcat, but I'm really more interested in Selina getting to be her own thing nowadays. Escape the bat-love interest curse girl, maybe go kiss an amazon or something.

Kon and Cassandra: Don't want this, but I am truly taken by the fact that was even a thing that was considered for 30 seconds. Insane. Insane pairing. Batshit. Kind of endearing? But please never again.

Barbara and Dinah: Listen 90's BoP (and often after too) was full of so much sexual tension between these two that it was almost suffocating. The one-night stand that they both fondly think about later, but told no one about? It needed to happen, but that's the end of it for me.

#headcanons #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #talia al ghul #jon kent #damian wayne #i'm not tagging everyone #shut up cerata #shipping #batfamily #cerata ships #sometimes

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anika-ann · 1 year

Text

No Pressure - Pt.2 (S.R.)

Type: two-shot, early relationship, canon-ish (see A/N); Part 1

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader (GG x Sparkles) Word count: 12,5k

Summary:

Having gotten a sound advice from a friend, you and Steve try to work things out. And maybe, it will end up with you two working out; because Steve Rogers does nothing by halves - less so with you.

Warnings: 18+ for some serious FILTH, SMUT, unprotected piv, brief mention of a jerk from Sparkles’ past, fluff, language

A/N: Standalone or a two-shot following Love on the Brain series and its oneshots - you might profit from checking the masterlist for characters; divider by firefly-graphics 😍

A/N: 6,8k of fluff done ✅it’s time for 12k of healthy communication and NSFW if you wanna spli the reading, look for “let alone such small bump on the road” - underlined

“I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more.”

- E.E. Cummings

Having decided to spend the night at a hotel instead of rushing back to New York – no matter how fast the Quinjet could get – you said your goodbyes around one a.m., retreating to your room. Steve reserved a classy and slightly overpriced hotel for you taste, but as you walked through the surprisingly still lively lobby, you understood his choice. Even as it was Captain America with you on his arm walking by, no one blinked an eye – or didn’t approach you at least.

Hand in hand, you got into the elevator and you found yourself truly grateful for the privacy. Relaxed, you leaned your head onto Steve’s shoulder, catching his soft smile in the mirror. He dropped a kiss to your forehead.

“I had a really good time tonight, Sparkles. Thank you for taking me… all of us,” he muttered, causing you to grin up at him.

You couldn’t but agree with his sentiment – you had the best time too, seeing your two lives merge together effortlessly, with banter and laughs having left you tipsier than the little alcohol you had drunk. The merry atmosphere of the evening had now turned into a serene one, a slightly hazy dream of sorts – but the lightness of your heart remained.

Standing to your tiptoes, you pecked Steve’s lips chastely, hand on his shoulder for balance.

“My pleasure. Thank you for coming with me.”

Face to face, he lifted your joined hands, caressing your cheek with the back of his, eyes bright and proud.

“Always.”

You didn’t get the chance to process the butterflies in your stomach at his simple declaration as the door behind your back slid open, revealing the corridor leading to your room. Steve simply beckoned with his chin, lightly tugging at your hand and walking you out.

Leave to it Steve Rogers he’d only release that hand to hold the door open for you; you exaggerated the ‘why thank you, Mr.Rogers’ as you made a little curtsey and only then stepped in, taking a brief moment to scan the room as you kicked off your shoes.

A queen-sized bed with burgundy and cream cushions dominated the room, complemented by dark-wood closet with matching nightstands. Cream-coloured sofa aligned with the silvery walls; it almost faced, a little absurdly, the bathroom door, as if the guests could choose whether to watch the TV or hypnotize the door until it opened. Peeking behind the corner, you were welcomed by large and no-doubt one-way window replacing one of the walls, offering the view of city lights. Your overnight bags Steve had had brought up there sat by a drawer, right under non-descript modern art painting.

Despite the strictly hotel-like look of the room big enough to mimic a junior suite, you could still sense an air of home; but perhaps that was only the person you’d share the space with.

The door clicked shut with a barely-there noise, causing you to look over your shoulder with an automatic smile – one that turned curious when you found Steve still by the door, posture stiff and face focused. It seemed he had observed your every step, every little movement and as you spun on your heels to face him fully, his gaze flickered down for barely a second. And the moment he met your eyes again, your throat went a little dry, your brain registering something new in the way he was looking at you.

“What?” you asked awkwardly, pulse thundering so loud in your ears that had Steve decided to answer, you probably wouldn’t have heard him anyway.

Luckily, he was a man of action more often than not; and the new emotion you deciphered in his blown pupils was pure fire, speaking louder than words.

In three long strides, he was on you, hand cradling your jaw, mouth latching onto yours just as his arm wrapped around your waist. That was good thinking – the force with which his body had slammed into yours, the way he knocked all air from your lungs and had your head spin, would have probably had you lose your balance. Not to mention the same fire you had seen in his gaze licking at your insides, having your body melt into his.

But he got your back. Always.

He never released the firm grip around your middle as his tongue easily gained access into your mouth, tasting every whimper he elicited from you as he walked you backwards to the couch, hard muscle of his thighs brushing against yours with every step, his semi-hard bulge pressing just above your pubic bone.

A breathless sound of his name escaped you as he freed your lips in favour of breathing, mouth never leaving your skin, trailing along your jaw.

Had you had the mental capacity, you’d have wondered whether his supersoldier ears had heard your conversation with JJ – but the fleeting thought flew out of the window the moment the world spun and you found yourself falling, Steve’s strong hands catching you, his thighs wedged between yours, having you naturally straddle him as he planted himself on the couch.

You had no damn idea what had gotten into him, but you weren’t about to question it.

The way his lips dominated yours had you tingle all over down to your fingertips, a crushing wave of heat stirring in your belly and flushing your core when his hips bucked just an inch up, his jeans-clad thighs meeting your own unwitting movements. Your hands found purchase of his shoulder and his hair, fingers sinking into his carefully combed silky strands. He sighed into your mouth contentedly as you did so, fingers flexing on your nape as he pulled you even closer, chest pressed to chest. When his hand inched lower, from the small of your back to the patch of skin just above the hem of your jeans, sliding under it and squeezing over the thin fabric of your panties, you were not proud of the sound that left your lips – but Steve didn’t seem to mind, his fingers flexing in your hair just enough to make you feel it and boost your confidence, but not enough to hurt.

Crumbling his shirt in a loose fist, you panted when his lips released you and his forehead lightly bumped into yours; his frantic breaths fanned over your face, hand moving back up again, drawing gentle circles on your back. Several pecks on your mouth, soft kisses peppered on your chin, on your cheek and along your jaw. You could feel his grip on you loosening, only making you grasp at him firmer, because it felt like whatever this had been was slipping from your fingers – as did he.

He gazed up at you and the sight of him – eyes wide with want, lips bruised, cheeks flushed – would be most precious hadn’t you sensed the lust slowly evaporating from between the two of you, Steve’s retreat drawing a thick line behind the outburst of passion. His lips traced a path down your throat, soft and soothing, warm, but not burning; he rested his forehead against your collarbone, having you tip your head back and nearly whine when his hnd respectively returned above the hem of your jeans.

As you gazed to the higher corner of the room, you felt tears of frustration and shame prickling your eyes. All the heat in your body morphed into embarrassment, the last drop to the figurative goblet of patience finally leading to an overflow.

“Why do we always do that?” you whispered soundlessly, your voice cracking on its edge.

Steve winced, head snapping up so quick he nearly knocked into your chin in the process; the lack of coordination spoke of just how taken aback he was by that question.

He stared at you, eyes wide, expression equally startled and pained. You gulped against the lump in your throat, squaring your shoulders to feign courage at least to yourself. Steve didn’t say a word, simply looking at you; at least he had the decency not to ask what you were talking about. That was both wonderful and awful, because on one hand, you were on the same page about something happening – on the other hand, you were on the same page about something happening.

His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, painfully soft, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he heard you suck in a harsh breath.

“How do we always end up here? I don’t… I don’t want to push you, I don’t want to push me. But I- is there something- is this about crossing some line, that we- you--- fuck,” you cursed as three hot droplets rolled down your cheeks, causing you to grit your teeth as you stomach flipped in shame. You angrily wiped the tears away, unable to meet Steve’s no doubt panicked gaze. Stop. You’re being ridiculous. “God-dammit, I wanted to talk about this and not break into damn tears, I don’t want to be that person—sorry, just, please, forget about this-“

You made to stand up and step back to retain some sort of dignity, because being a soppy mess – on both your face and in your underwear because god damn, Steve was such a skilful kisser and you craved his hands on you so much it was absurd – on top of him felt like anything but. He never let you; his grasp was gentle but unrelenting, much like the trap of his gaze you vainly tried to escape.

“That’s a little hard to forget,” he said lowly, every syllable sitting heavy on your chest – and from the look of it, on his too.

“Well… try,” you pleaded, fighting to gather your composure back, because Jesus, why on Earth were you crying, who even did that, were you into emotional manipulation now? And were you truly crying because your relationship wasn’t moving fast enough for your taste? Alright, that was oversimplification, but still, to shed tears over this was ridiculous and vile.

You knew Steve hated seeing you like this, you hated seeing him losing his composure too, and you had the situation been reversed, you’d do anything to turn his frown upside down. Anything. And so would he. You were so not in for a pity fuck that would, in addition to being a pity fuck, ruin everything.

Why did you have to open your big stupid mouth instead of basking in the fact you were finally with the man you were pining after for two long years? Why couldn’t you keep marvelling at the luck, the privilege not many people had to be with your friend, your love, your GG?

You just had to go and open the pandora box, didn’t you?

Shaking your head, you pressed against Steve’s shoulders, causing him to frown harder – you could see the conflict on his face. He didn’t want to let you go, sensing you were truly upset and knowing his touch tended to ground you and him, but at the same time, he wanted to respect your need for space. Because he was a sweetheart. He’d never hurt you and if you just talked to him, explained your side of things, calmly, he’d hear you out and you’d work things out.

JJ had been right – you and Steve did need to talk. But now, with the chest of insecure thoughts unlocked in your brain, was absolutely not the time. Especially not with the scene you had just made.

Jesus, Sparkles, get a grip.

“I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m being absolutely ridiculous,” you chuckled self-consciously, the sound tasting foreign on your lips. You didn’t even recognize the crazy person who burst in tears a minute ago. You wondered if any of your profiler friends would give you a scientific explanation for that. Probably Spence. Maybe Rossi, having had gone through three marriages. Then again Derek probably had the most experience with variety of relationships – though the reason for that was that they never lasted long. Maybe Emily would-

A tender touch on your jaw stopped the frantic train of your thoughts; you blinked, focusing your gaze back to Steve’s face.

“Hey… I doubt that, Sparkles. Tell me what’s wrong. Is this about earlier, at the bowling alley? When you and JJ disappeared for a bit and you were upset? What exactly do you mean by ending up here?”

The flicker of fiery anger in his irises had the corners of your lips twitch weakly, your heart fluttering. ‘Do I have a beef with someone for making my girl sad?’ he had said, his protective persona reappearing.

Steve would beat up anyone who’d try to touch you within the inch of their life and you loved that about him. The issue here, however, was that he’d need to beat up either you or himself.

You genuinely believed this wasn’t the best time to discuss this – but the sincerity in his voice had you make a U-turn. Perhaps there was no time like present; especially since whenever Steve encountered a problem, he was like a dog with a bone. He’d never let it go and even if he’d allow you to steer the conversation elsewhere, understanding you wanted more space to think about it first, he’d just lie awake all night, the gears in his head turning endlessly. That wasn’t fair; neither to you, nor to him.

You licked your lips, taking a wavering breath.

“I mean… us. This. Is it--- is it something I do? Something to make you uncomfortable?” you asked in a hushed whisper, Steve’s eyes now growing wide as saucers. “Or is it that we’ve been friends for too long? Do you—can you even--- see me as-“

Unsure how to finish your thought, you gestured vaguely along your body, nearly slapping his hand still resting on your hip in the process.

Steve’s watched you intently, clueless, seemingly wanting to ask twenty different questions about everything you just said, because you explained nothing. He settled at the most obvious thing.

“See you as…?” he raised his low voice into a question and you bit your cheek, embarrassment eating up all your words.

See you as a woman? Too vague. As an object of desire? Steve would not have it, you even implying you could be an object, even if that was just how the collocation went. A romantic partner wasn’t quite cutting it, a fuck buddy wasn’t the correct term and a set of holes, now that was just unnecessarily crude. Asking him if he ever wanted to sleep with you or have sex with you just sounded basic and blunt and his eyes was still roaming your face and-

Oh.

You could tell the exact millisecond the synapses in the beautiful brain of his sent the signal one to another to create the right image you were trying to paint so clumsily. You could tell because his eyebrows jumped high for a brief moment, before his expression changed into one of intense focus—oh god.

“Wait, so… let me clear something up. You are asking about why I don’t push further in our physical relationship?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, victorious and little desperate at once because there was no going back now. Courage, Jones. Like ripping off a band-aid. “Well… I guess I’m kinda asking—and this sounds awful, but is it you or is it me? Because I’m fine with slow!” Kinda. “I’m just--- we always start and then we stop and I… I can’t but wonder the stopping part is because of something I do, or something we are or have been, or if you feel… pressured into something you don’t want to do or… something…”

You trailed off, voice growing smaller and smaller under his searching gaze as did your vast vocabulary, until you couldn’t bear it and averted his eyes, pretending to find the way his navy-blue shirt contrasted against the creamy couch incredibly fascinating.

You were granted full five seconds before Steve decided – as you knew he eventually would – that he wouldn’t have it. The pads of his fingers applied the tinniest pressure to your chin, guiding you to look back at him; your eyes stubbornly stayed on the buttons of his shirt, until his thumb brushed over your swollen lower lip and your gaze met his at last.

“Sparkles… do you think that I don’t want you?” he asked slowly, so brilliantly baffled that your first instinct was to deny it.

“No! Of course not! It’s not that-- I mean--- I don’t- I don’t know…?”

His eyes softened, regret lacing the warm blue of his irises and you felt the suffocating weight in your lungs grow. Oh no. He pitied you. He thought you were an idiot and an oversensitive hysterical woman he had not signed up to date and you really needed to stop straddling him at least-

“Would you stop trying to get away from me, woman,” Steve huffed exasperatedly, his hands on your shoulder and hip growing firmer again. Not an unescapable cage, because your boyfriend was considerate to a fault, but tight enough to signal how much he wanted you to stay. Until he opened his mouth and made you want to climb out of his lap straight onto the floor in hopes for the carpet to swallow you. “Well, I admit, that is a little absurd--- stay where you are. Please. This is important, we need to talk about this.”

Fine. Fine. You stuck your chin up, crossing your arms on your chest, making Steve drop his hands to his sides. You only barely missed the way Steve’s lips twitched at your defiant gesture and sudden attitude.

You had to give it to him, however – you were much calmer. Somehow, he had managed to steer the tone of the conversation towards the way you usually communicated and despite the absolutely horrid topic of discussion, your insecurity and fear fell quiet, remaining nothing but a whisper in the very back of your mind.

“Okay, Mr. That Is A Little Absurd. Then how is it that you joked about leaving a mark just about anywhere almost a month ago and we didn’t make it past a hickey on my neck where marks are concerned and you never let me…” you paused, licking your lips, thinking about an appropriate way to address the issue of you having been the only to get off so far, “…touch you?”

A sad smile passed over his lips; this time, it was him who briefly lowered his gaze as if bashful.

“Well, you once said that my recklessness is in direct proportion with my ability to heal and… maybe you were a little right.” You couldn’t help it – your eyebrows arched, which didn’t seem to faze him, his hand finding its way to your thigh. “But not with you, Sparkles. I can’t afford to be reckless with you.”

You gulped, defiance leaving you in an instant, your heart touched by the display of vulnerability. But at the same time, you were completely at loss as to what on Earth he could mean by that.

He couldn’t be honestly afraid of accidentally getting you pregnant; for one, you knew for a fact Steve would handle the situation like a man and a champ, and for two, despite what Tony thought, the man out of time was well-aware of contraceptives, you were friends for long enough to know that. However, not being careful about that was about as far as your imagination went when associating the words reckless and sex.

“Reckless how?” you questioned softly, frowning as the gears in your brain turned and turned.

“I don’t want you to think I’m only after… that.”

Say what.

“GG, I would never think that of you,” you chuckled incredulously, thinking for a moment that he was making up a bullshit excuse – except his face was perfectly serious and he shrugged, nothing but sincerity written in his expression.

“Well, it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s not like that never happens, is it?”

Oh.

The memory hit you with surprising force and clarity – one of the rare off nights for the Avengers Steve insisted you should come for, maybe four, five months ago, plenty of alcohol and a silly game of truth or dare. It was Tony’s turn--- no Clint’s and you had picked a truth.

‘Aaalright, Johny-Jones, tell us about… your nemesis. Past or now—present. Go.’

It had taken you a minute and since you had apparently not been allowed to get philosophical and say that your nemesis was yourself at times, you picked Ryan. You both had been FBI in training and you had been an idiot, blinded by the fact a handsome guy whom you had sometimes competed against actually wanted you. You had thought it had been about passion; and in a way it had. Two weeks later, the night he had got his dick wet – you remembered now, that had been the exact phrase you used during the Avengers game night – he had been out of the door and then bragged about it, laughing in your face at any chance he had got. By the blessings of karma, he had had little to brag about when he had later failed psych eval necessary to sign up for the Profiling 101 course. You, on the other hand, had got in, never having to see that jerk again.

Only now when Steve indirectly pointed it out, you recalled that your GG had seemed to be particularly protective over you for the rest of the night and for the weeks that had followed.

Because he was always there, ready to defend you, to protect you from harm; should it be inflicted by others or himself.

Suddenly, your eyes burned for a different reason, your stomach tight with emotion as sweet as heavy. In the back of your mind, you cursed Ryan, the insignificant asshole of a man, for creeping into your life years later and adding to the small crisis in your current relationship. Relationship that was nothing like the one with him. It would have never even crossed your mind that Steve could be after getting his dick wet in your honey pot; the idea was more than just a little absurd considering the man you knew he was. But his supersoldier brain with eidetic memory worried it might have – because it had happened to you before.

He watched you for long moments, patiently letting you process. You didn’t know whether to kiss him senseless or smack some sense into him, because how could he even think that was an issue? Just about everything he had ever done for you without a promise of anything more than friendship solidified the notion of him being ridiculously virtuous long time ago. You knew in your very core that he was a good man.

Your man.

“Steve…”

“I don’t… I didn’t say that to be jerk. I just… I want to make you feel good and I want you to know you’re more to me than that. And I want to make sure I give before I take.”

Sweet mother of-

“Oh GG, but you’re already doing that, always! And-” You gulped, unable to say the word sex for some reason. “And it’s not always that I, uhm, I give you one and you give me one back and vice versa. It’s about making each other feel good, giving what the other needs… right? Making them feel loved.”

Look at you, suddenly being a relationship expert when you couldn’t get your shit together for the past few days.

Steve’s fingers were gentle as they threaded through your hair, regret returning to his eyes.

“I never meant to make you feel like I don’t want you,” he whispered, fingertips brushing along your jaw, stopping an inch from your lips. “I do. You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart. The things I’d do for you, to you. I just… and you’re you. You’re perfect.”

If your heart skipped a beat at the implication of what he wanted to do to you, heat filled your cheeks when he even suggested you might be perfect even as you barely held back a snort.

Perfect. Right.

“I am most definitely not.”

But Steve just tilted his head to side, the charming bastard, that expressive blue of his eyes telling you not to dare and argue about how he apparently saw you.

Perfect.

It was just a stupid word, but damn, talk about pressure. It was a little hard to live up to the image when you were on a pedestal and maybe you had felt that too. Just another reason for why you didn’t exactly push Steve into crossing the line – because if you were being honest with yourself, even though Steve wasn’t the perfect human being, he was perfect for you and you wouldn’t want him to be disappointed when you’d get to be together that way. It was entirely reasonable for him to feel the same.

You could understand if he was worried about living up to expectations. You could understand if he wanted to make it perfect for you too. You could understand why he latched onto the thought of some lowlife who had once made you feel like you were nothing but a piece of meat and wanted to make sure you never had to feel like that ever again.

Tears welled up in your eyes, your breathing wavering. If you weren’t feeling like suffocating under the devastating affection behind Steve’s words, you’d scream in frustration, because you could have got this out of the way weeks ago, if you just communicated like two adults.

“It doesn’t help that I’m strong and sometimes I fail to be in control of that hundred percent,” Steve added, quickly following up when he saw you wanted to protest. “And I know you know that, just like you know I’d never want to hurt you, but if I get lost in you… I might. I never felt the way about anyone, not like I do with you, Sparkles.”

Overwhelmed by the direction the conversation took, into a perhaps strange, but possibly one of the most thoughtful declarations of love, it slowly dawned to you – much to your brief annoyance – that JJ had been right, again.

‘And what do you think are the chances that he feels just the same? I’d bet he thinks you’re the best damn woman and he really really doesn’t want to fuck it up either…’

You were two peas in a pot who ultimately just wanted for the other to be happy and comfortable but somehow forgot to mention it.

“So you… basically, you don’t want me to feel pressured, just like I don’t want you to feel pressured and you don’t want to hurt me and I don’t want to hurt you?” you piped up, earning a lopsided sad smile. “You just don’t want to mess it up just like I do?”

“Looks like.”

You let your forehead hit his lightly and he met you halfway, your eyelids sliding shut. Relief flooded your system in equal measure with exasperation, wining over just by nose.

“God, GG, we’re both idiots.”

His breathy chuckle tickled your face, his hands cradling your head. “Yeah… but you’re my idiot. Beautiful, considerate idiot-- no, all but the idiot part. You’re brilliant, Sparkles.”

You huffed, opening your eyes, mesmerized by the way he looked at you – as if he meant every word.

“Beg to differ, but anyway. Pot, kettle.”

Steve smiled, his nose gently caressing yours before he retreated an inch. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And I do want you,” he emphasized, no farther than a breath from your lips. “So much.”

“Noted. And… ditto.”

“And I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, “that’d be nice, that sounds really-”

You never got to finish your sentence, silenced by his lips. You didn’t think you ever had been happier about someone not letting you say your part, never felt so calm despite excitement bursting in your chest. You were in Steve’s loving arms and he wanted you – there was nothing in the world you weren’t going to work through, let alone such small bump on the road.

You revelled in the taste of his smile and in the way his palm warmed your thigh even through your jeans. Parting your lips and yielding to his gentle advances with a sigh, all tension melted from your body, having you slide lower in his lap and catch yourself against his firm chest. A pleased rumble vibrated under your palms, large hand splaying over your back to press you closer to him even as the kiss grew more demanding, your pliant body bending backwards to accommodate Steve’s strength. His free hand gripped at the base of your neck to keep you still, a surge of arousal and confidence straight to your veins and muscles, nerves set on pleasant fire. You sunk your fingers into his hair again, body wrapping around his.

It had to be what he was waiting for, because a second later your found yourself in the air, clinging to Steve’s torso as his arm moved under your ass and hauled you up. The silent yelp of surprise was drowned in his mouth, your stomach flipping as you instinctively locked your ankles around his middle. You couldn’t care less where he carried you as long as he kept kissing you like that, but the direction he was heading was unmistakable.

At least you thought so until your back met the wall, eliciting a gasp from your lips, the bed flashing in the corner of your vision several feet too far. Your fingers dug into Steve’s bicep, clutching in his hair, heat pooling in your core. Oh god.

Oh the countless times you fantasized about this. Steve pinning you to the wall in a show of strength unmatched to another man, radiating heat and grabbing you like he couldn’t get close enough, tongue licking into your mouth as if he wished he could explore the depths of your soul and suck it right out of you.

The breathy ‘Steve’ when he retreated half an inch had to sound downright pornographic but you didn’t give a damn, because he wanted you, he wanted you just as much as you wanted him… right?

“You tell me if I do anything you don’t want or like?” he demanded, wording it like an order rather than a question, but your brain searched for a hidden meaning anyway, overanalysing even as you were slipping into kiss-drunken slumber.

You tell me. Anything you don’t like.

You shook your head, an echo of doubt guiding your fingers to cover Steve’s mouth and push him away.

Getting a first look on him ever since he lifted you, your mouth went positively dry despite the mouth-watering sight he made; his pupils were like smouldering coal and as much as you loved seeing soft affection in his eyes, you never wanted him to look at you any different that this ever again. He looked like he could eat you alive and have you begging for more. Even if his brows furrowed momentarily.

Focus, focus, Jones, you had an important thought.

“GG, wait. Don’t do this because you feel like you need to prove me something. We have time and we’ll figure it out, we… we can wait.”

HIs concern melted away, forehead narrowing, a sweet smile forming under your fingers before a kiss made you withdraw your hand and shut up.

His smile turned baffled – and then dangerous.

“That’s… really not why I want to do this,” he assured you, his voice dripping of amusement and something deliciously dark.

“Oh really?” you retorted, cheeky and unimpressed, ignoring (not) your position. “Because you never rise to a challenge.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but Sparkles…” he muttered, shaking his head and huffing a silent laugh that quickly turned devious when his body pressed against you so firmly that his hands completely released your body and you whimpered a silent oh my god because that was just his hips holding you against the wall and it should be scary but instead you just felt a shudder run up your spine knowing he would never drop you but that was the sheer weight of his body pinning you to the wall and you could probably let go of the death grip on his shoulders and waist and you still wouldn’t fall.

Those ridiculously warm hands of his cradled your face as you panted and licked your lips, Steve’s eyes flickering down to follow the movement and then stealing your breath altogether with a soft kiss that was everything you could want and yet not even close to what you needed. Your eyes slipped close but you could imagine what the scene looked like; you could feel his gaze on you, watching you with affection and heat, like something precious and his. And his you were, absolutely, he had no idea-

Wait, he was talking, he was trying to make a point--- what had you been talking about?

“Do you have any idea how long…“ he spoke directly to your mouth, one hand slipping lower, the pad of his thumb petting the hollow of your throat lovingly, leaving you unable to stiffen the moan bubbling right under his touch, “-how much I wanted this? Wanted you?”

“Steve-“

“I don’t want to ‘do this’ because it’s some challenge for me. Do you want to know why I do though?” he whispered, lips straying from yours, tracing the line of your jaw, hand sliding down your waist to your thigh as whoever was in control of your body had you nod frantically, earning a smile against your neck. “I want to do this to you because you loved being on the winning team today. So damn cheeky, enjoying getting one up on me.”

You giggled at the truth of his words, the sound turning breathy when Steve’s teeth nipped on your pulse point, your hips bucking forward despite having no space to do so in search for friction. Steve’s fingers flexed on your thigh at the futile attempt, a hiss escaping his lips when you tried to wiggle against his hard-on.

“I want you because there were so many guys just gawking at you tonight, but you were looking at me and you looked like you wanted me too.”

“I did—I do,“ you breathed out, all doubts and insecurities forgotten.

He was making very compelling arguments and the fleeting idea that this could have been some act of simply proving a point was long gone, poured down the drain of absurdity. Forget about that. You needed Steve. You needed him to do something, anything more than this and you needed it now.

“And then you kissed me like no one was watching, but I knew about every single jerk looking our direction wishing they were in my place.”

“Oh yeah, tons of them, I bet-“ you muttered sarcastically, but somehow, with his nimble fingers sneaking under the strap of your bra and letting it snap back lightly, your words sounded more like a confirmation when you whimpered.

When his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, you were sure he was going to make you come just like that, with his words, his hands on your body and his tongue licking at your collarbone.

Jesus Christ-

“Uh-huh. I want you because these damn jeans leave nothing to imagination but I imagined what you’re wearing under them anyway. And my head is fuckin’ full of your perfume I want to taste it as it clings to your skin when you wear absolutely nothing and I want to still smell it when you wear my shirt the morning after.”

Yes, yes, you wanted that too, like yesterday was too late already-

“I want you because that little dance of yours had me so fucking hard I almost took you right there in front of everyone.”

“GG, stop talking and kiss me,” you begged him because truly, truly, you were convinced, utterly and unchangeably, now if he could just get to it and sooth the liquid fire your insides turned into, that would be just wonderful. A+ for his dirty talk, but-

He ignored your plea, glancing up, eyes hungry, lips swollen and impossibly red when he smirked.

“I want you because you make me imagine doing things that are everything but gentle,” he corrected you darkly, fingertips tracing the soft skin of your breast just under the cut of your shirt, tickly in the most delicious way. “Some punk kid at the bar tried to touch your ass today and I wanted to break his hand. Six days ago, at your first full training after recovery, Rodriguez held nothing back despite his instruction and I had to send Natasha to deal with him because I would have broken his hand, I’d rip it right fucking off because he hurt you.”

Through the fog of arousal, you recalled the training in question. Rodriguez had got you in the ribs good, even if you had barely felt it the next day. Steve had been furious, but he always was; even as your friend he had hated seeing you hurt, it was one of the things that both warmed your heart and made the butterflies in your stomach flip their wings like crazy, made your core throb long before you professed your love to each other, even if a completely different way than he was doing it now.

All his admissions made for a tremble in your muscles, a race in your heart; he was whispering his sins into your skin as if your body was a confessional and with every kiss he was asking for absolution. A thoroughly good man asking absolution for his wrath and lust and greed. Everyone who knew Steve Rogers even in passing knew all about his giving nature – and the way he had your body sing made him seem plenty generous. But his lips, tasting every inch of bare skin and marking his claim, his hands gripping you so hard it bordered on painful, these were nothing short of greedy, as were his words.

“No one touches you. No one hurts you. I want you and I want to do unthinkable things to you, over and over, just so all you know is my name and I want you to say it, whisper it or scream it until you can’t anymore.”

“Steve, please-“

“This is why I want to do this and I want it so much it’s driving me insane. You drive me insane,” he accused you fondly, lips detached from your skin at last as he levelled his face with yours. “It feels impossible to hold back sometimes.”

Here was the frustration joke: you didn’t want him to hold back. You were left breathless, speechless, molten lava coursing through your veins and the sight of him, face flushed, pupils blown wide, his breaths coming out short only fed your unbearable hunger. You could almost feel him tremble against you and you knew it wasn’t from the strain of holding you up against the wall – it was from the effort not to snap.

How he wasn’t fucking you six ways into Sunday already and managed to keep composure after everything he just confessed to was beyond you. And he was still talking, a raspy warning that had the opposite effect than intended – because instead of wanting to put the fire out, you wanted to pour gasoline all over it.

“This is how I want you and how much I want you. But I must not scare you away, Sparkles. You’re too important. I need you to say yes, I need you to tell me you want this too and I need you to promise me to tell me to stop if I go too far.”

Oh you could tell him yes and make all the promises he wanted. As soon as you’d find your voice. As soon as you’d figure where the gasoline and matches were.

“I don’t scare easily, Steve,” you whispered, a sound so choked one would think you he already had you scream his name over and over.

Licking your lips, you willed your fingers to pet the soft material of his shirt as it strained over his shoulders, a minute tremble in them as you undid the first button. Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he stood tall, endlessly patient. The self-control on the man. You couldn’t wait to push just a little more to see it burn to dust.

“And if I ever get afraid, I have you to protect me, don’t I?” you taunted, undoing the second button, then the third, leaning in to kiss the newly exposed skin, a faint taste of sweat on your tongue.

You barely bit back a smile as his chest expanded with a rapid inhale. You loved the effect you had on him, your words – however true – intentionally playing into the role of a protector you knew was important to him and made him preen.

“You’d never let anyone hurt me. I trust you.”

With the fourth button, you found yourself with not enough space to continue. That was fine. You kissed your way up his sternum over the hollow of his throat until you found his lips, parted, hot and eager to receive – a kiss, another compliment. You let your hands appreciate the expanse of his chest, his biceps, his broad shoulders; you weren’t sure if the moan came from you or him. Maybe both.

“I know you would never hurt me, not for a lack of strength… but you can use that strength too. I won’t break, unless it’s for you,” you promised, whispering straight to his lips, satisfied at the groan it drew from his throat. “I want you to do everything you want to do to me.”

“Sparkles…”

You withdrew as much as the wall behind you allowed, taking care to look directly in his dark eyes. You hoped you spoke with conviction – and enough of an innocent smile, even if on the inside, you were smirking.

“And I know I’m more to you than a piece of meat. You’re nothing like… them. You’re a good man, Steve, a smart man. My man… my Captain.”

The last one was a stretch, a bold guess based on loose observation; you held your breath in anticipation as three long seconds of silent stillness followed, your words sinking in.

But then, the effect was immediate.

Steve’s body slammed into yours with ferocity that knocked the wind out of you, a movement so fierce you were worried you might crash through the wall straight into the next room. His mouth slanted over yours with a beautiful animalistic sound, an unapologetic claim with no regard of giving before taking. A bruising grip on your thighs, a minute retreat of his hips just so he could rock them back against your drenched core, having you clench around nothing and wishing for a breath just so you could beg to have something in there instead.

Your futile attempt to speak up was cut off by a nip of teeth on your lower lip, Steve long fingers stretching over your ass to press mere inches from your lower lips and making you keen in relief and need.

“You just fucking love pushing my buttons, don’t you,” he grunted, his other hand sneaking under your blouse and squeezing your ribs on the side of your breast.

Not giving you a chance to confirm nor deny, he claimed dominance over your mouth again as soon as you breathed in.

The tips of his fingers were barely touching you where you craved him, but with every second you felt yourself climbing higher and higher, gasping when the pressure suddenly disappeared, a chuckle rambling in his chest pressing against your breasts.

“Oh no you don’t.”

His hands settled on your waist, firm, lips moving to your ear, nipping on your earlobe. “You know me so damn well, sweetheart. But guess what… if you think you can play me as you wish, think again.”

The sound you made couldn’t have been human, a frustrated whimper and a plea. Your whole body was on fire, melting like butter and sinking into his rich honey-like voice wrapping your senses in the delicious threat that followed.

“‘Cause I don’t know you nearly well enough so I’m gonna take my sweet time learning about every inch of your body and every little thing that makes you sing before I give you what you need.”

Your head spun with a rapid movement – around and backwards you thought – the support behind your back gone for a moment and then suddenly there was no support at all. You couldn’t fly for longer than a second but you yelped anyway, the sound drowned in the cushions of the bed you safely landed in.

“GG!”

Vice-like grips on your ankles and you were being pulled until your legs hung down the bed and a hot wet kiss was pressed under your belly button, blouse racked up to your rapidly rising and falling chest.

Holy fucking shit, you weren’t sure what the hottest part of this was – the show of strength, the safety you felt despite the insanity he just pulled off, or the fact he was literally kneeling between your legs and his dextrous fingers already undid the button and the fly of your jeans and were working their way up your ribcage, exploring just as eagerly as his mouth. Your back arched under his touch when his teeth grazed just under the hem of your bra, providing him with the perfect opportunity to undo the clasps and push the offending piece of clothing out of the way.

You felt like you were about to explode any second, but Steve, while eager, was in no rush. He was like a reverent believer finally discovering the temple of the only god he ever worshipped for the first time. The way his hand supported your shoulder blades as he nuzzled your breast, nosing his way over the sensitive skin and licking at the peeked nipple filled you with impatience, pride and affection at once.

You had a non-selfish lover before, but you had never experienced something more sensual than this. You had never had a man make love to your body. Steve treated it as a piece of art and under his touch, you felt like a damn masterpiece.

He didn’t have to ask you to get rid of what stood in his way, but he appreciated the newly exposed skin with a pleased hum despite the clumsy way you managed to strip your tops with; pressing a little harder, sucking the flesh of your breast with enough fervour to leave a mark.

The oh my god, Steve- left your lips as a whine. Your limp hands found purchase of his hair, pulling him up to steal a kiss from those sinful lips. He followed willingly, stretching his body over yours, catching himself on his hand – but your felt the brush of his rock-hard cock against your core anyway and your hips tilted up, searching for the much-needed friction.

He groaned into the filthy kiss, his uncompromising hand pushing your hip back into the cushions.

“Steeve-“

Screw taking his sweet time. You felt like crying from how he worshipped you but some of the suffocating sensation most definitely stemmed from the sheer frustration of not being fucked into the mattress relentlessly yet. You released his hair in order to work the buttons of his damn shirt, barely managing to undo them with your shaky fingers, sighing in bliss when you got to touch the hot skin of his abdomen you drooled over for almost two years now.

“I want you so damn much-“ he whispered to your lips before he freed you, mouth tracing a hot path down your throat and sternum, lower and lower, fingertips trailing behind as the desperate words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Then take me.”

The loveable bastard smiled, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just above the hem of your jeans, nimble fingers slipping under the denim and finally ridding you of the atrocious piece of clothing you were sure must have been soaked through at this point too. Regretfully, his touch disappeared so he could strip the jeans fully but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make as long as it moved things forward.

Much like when he had helped you lose your shoes the day you were released form the med bay four weeks ago, his red-hot palm cradled your calf. Except this time, a kiss landed just above your knee, coaxing your legs apart with the lightest pressure, muttering into your skin as he torturously slowly made his way up.

“Loved you for so long, imagined having you in so many ways…” he groaned, almost pained, and you couldn’t but glance at him, all curses you ever known on your tongue but none on them making it out as you white-knuckled the sheets.

The sight of Steve between your spread legs was going to be the death of you. You couldn’t imagine a better way to go except maybe if he touched you where you needed him the most before you went.

“Anything-” you choked out. Everything. He was mere three inches from your dripping centre and you were ready to sell your soul to the Devil for him to just move.

You didn’t have any brain space left to be self-conscious about him inhaling the heady aroma of your sex, not when the burning gaze you had met settled on his prize with unabashed hunger.

“God, look at you, you’re dripping for me. Gonna love on you, Sparkles…”

“Yes, please-“

He chuckled, the huff of hot air teasing your core over the useless fabric of your underwear. “Look at you, you little tease, so polite all of sudden…”

You didn’t get as much as a second to call him a smug bastard; with one sharp tug, your panties were gone and the tip of his tongue dipped into your soaked lips. His moan vibrated through your whole body, echoing the cry of his name.

“Steve-”

“Fuck, sweetheart-“ was all he said before he dived in deep, pushing your legs further apart to accommodate his broad shoulders.

His nose bumped into your oversensitive clit, his tongue gathering your essence off your lips before pushing between them and making you back out from the sensual assault even as you didn’t know whether you wanted to escape or lean into it. The forearm suddenly laying over your hips prevented you from either and left you with no option but to take it – even if it should kill you.

So be it. You could make peace with such fate.

Grabbing after Steve’s hair, you reached the starry highs embarrassingly fast with no more than one finger in pressing just right and Steve’s lips sucking on your clit – and a sob vaguely resembling his name on your lips.

Your body shook with the aftershocks as your lover licked at every drop, easing the pressure on your belly to let you ride it out. Your ears were still ringing when the first of his whispers crept into your consciousness, a husky voice full of affection, pads of his thumbs drawing soothing circles above your hipbones.

“Beautiful, so beautiful… always so pretty when you fall apart for me.”

Your vision was blurry as you stared at the ceiling, panting, heart hammering as if you just fought off an army of mercenaries. Steve’s soft lips travelled up your body, leaving a sticky trail in their wake, lingering anywhere they deemed fit.

His messy hair appeared in your vision first, a kiss landing on your jaw. You still couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move, coming down from the most intense orgasm you had ever experienced.

Until a delighted chuckle reached your ears, your gaze focusing on Steve’s dark gaze shining with thousand stars.

“Oh, is this a way to shut your smart mouth, Sparkles?”

Shut my brain, more like, you wanted to say, but the only thing you managed was a small grumble, a blissed-out sound too tiny to have him believe you were mad. As if you could ever be mad at him for that.

“GG-“

He chuckled again, leaning in to kiss your lips, gentle at first, until you moaned at the bittersweet tang of your own juices and his fingers tangled in your damp hair, his warm weight covering you like a blanket. You were surprised when you felt two hot tears roll down your temples into your hair – and you weren’t the only one.

Steve freed your lips with a wet pop, his flushed face full of concern.

“You good?”

You huffed a laugh, blinking frantically as to stop more tears from coming.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s not that it was that bad it made me cry-” you teased him lightly, chest so full of feeling you were no longer surprised your body needed to release the pressure somehow. “But also don’t let it go into your head too much-“

Steve shut your smart mouth again, clearly reassured, his lips tasting of victory and pride this time. You couldn’t really hold it against him – he literally gave you an orgasm so good it made you cry.

And you still wanted more.

He already gave and now it was time to take, but he sure had made it feel like you weren’t the only one receiving when he was giving. It was sweet. It was empowering. It made you feel thoroughly loved, even if he was still being a little shit.

You grabbed the opportunity to finally appreciate his toned stomach, revelling in the sensation of his muscles shifting under your palms, one of your hands moving to give some attention to his pectorals too.

He liked that, if the small sound in the back of his throat and the breath of your name was anything to go by. It was the perfect prompt to explore further. And boy, you did.

His body was downright unreal. Yet never had anything felt so real as the warm humming power under your touch, smooth and slightly damp skin stretching over the delicious dips and valleys, rising with every inhale. You doubted you’d let you have your time with him now – he felt heavy and hard against your belly, so much it had to be painful, and his mouth kept your own busy enough – but soon, you’d trace the same lines your fingers were drawing on his chiselled torso with your tongue instead and then would move onto his biceps, grazing the prominent vein leading down his arm with your teeth.

The prospect fuelled your arousal, impatient hands sliding under the opened shirt into his sleeves, pushing at the fabric, whining upon feeling his bulging biceps. Those were the arms that held you against the wall. Those were the arms that tossed you around like you were nothing. Those were the arms that would rip apart anyone who’d try to hurt you.

“Get this damn thing off,” you cursed, for the first time realizing you were there lying completely naked and Steve had at least three pieces of unnecessary clothing still on.

He obliged with a hum, breaking your kiss as he balanced himself on his knees instead of his forearms. You took advantage of his momentary occupied hands and of the sudden space to take initiative, palming the prominent bulge straining the seams of his jeans. The most beautifully broken groan was your reward; you couldn’t wait to hear it again, making a quick work of unbuckling his belt before his infamous supersoldier reflexes could even kick in, his hands still tangled in his shirt. Once freed, he cradled your face and pressed your back to the bed with renewed eagerness.

You were fine with one hand on his bare skin and the other pushing his jeans down, all that while his tongue tangled with yours. You were still an agent; one feeling a little boneless after orgasmic high, but still a very efficient AI agent. You could multitask. If Steve overwhelmed all your senses, hot and throbbing in your hand, his cologne and the tang of sex and sweat filling your nostrils, his choked moan echoing in your ears once you freed him, you were more than able to process all that at once too.

In fact, the head of his cock nudging at your slit was the perfect cherry on top of it all the sensations and he seemed to agree. Until he realized it all felt all too good and retreated with a curse.

“Wait, love, I have to-“

You shook your head and pulled him back for another kiss. You were covered, so to speak and honestly you had no other protection at hand and the mere notion of stopping now was unthinkable. Honestly the fact he said I have to, taking the responsibility on himself, was the last touch to your decision.

“Pill. Clean. Please.” Just fill me.

His lust-filled eyes roamed your face for long seconds, whatever argument happening in his head cut off when you let your fingers curl around his length and pumped him, thumb stroking over the leaking head of his cock.

“Yeah, okay-- God- THAT.”

You grinned to yourself smugly, angling your hips for him to slide in. You were still so wet for him you knew it wouldn’t be an issue – even if his grith certainly would be a challenge and maybe you were going to regret your hastiness tomorrow… today.

Or not at all.

He went slow. Shallow languid thrusts, sweetened by deep kisses and praise spilling from his lips, giving way with a gently tightening knot in your belly instead of pain. Fingers interlaced with yours next to your head, drinking gasps and moans of pleasure from each other’s’ lips. A voiceless fuck give me a moment, you’re so tight, I can’t-, a glorious view of Steve’s face contorted in pleasure and reverence.

‘I love you’ whispered straight to your mouth once he settled all way in, filling you up to a point you thought you’d combust and thank him for it.

“Love you, GG. I didn’t mean to push you.”

You had no clue why you said that, but Steve didn’t give you a chance to panic, a breathy laugh shaking his chest, nose nudging yours. The image would be magnificent at any given time, but the circumstance gave the it an intimate aura of a secret thing shared between you two only.

“You only push my buttons all the time,” he hushed you, causing you to chuckle and whimper when he experimentally moved back and forth, clearly deeming you ready – and by lord, were you ready, every drag of his length nothing short of delicious, stoking the fire in your belly. “And please notice I participate pretty enthusiastically--- fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart.”

You noticed.

You appreciated the hell out of every ounce of self-control Steve had shown just a few minutes ago in order not to hurt you – but seeing the cracks in foundation opening and releasing the same man who pinned you to the wall was a hypnotic sight. His gentle touch morphing into grasps and squeezes, soft kisses and encouragement blending into claims and filthy praise. Arms having created a sense of safety wrapping around you tighter to keep you in place, fingers clutching at your hair not to hurt but to prevent you from escaping his advances. Flesh slapping flesh with every thrust, his pubic bone brushing your clit. The rubber band tightening in your belly threatening to snap with every word whispered gravely to your skin, to your mouth.

“It’s like you were made for me, made to be mine-”

“I am. Always yours,” you gasped, your voice cracking when his hand slipped under the small of your back, the change of angle making you stifle a moan, nails digging into his biceps.

“Damn right. Will keep you like this all night, take you over and over until you can’t think of anything else but my name and how it feels when I fill you up…”

As he rose to his knees, making you prop up on your heels, thighs shaky with exertion, you were more than grateful for his support; more so since your bones felt as if they have turned into molasses at this point.

“All night, every night. Every day, every fucking chance we get,” he promised feverishly.

The moan that spilled from your lips was obscene, but so were Steve’s words.

In a forgotten rational part of your brain, you understood what he had meant by scaring you off – thinking this would be too much. But damn, your lust-drunk mind had never heard a better idea in your life—this, this, you wanted more, you wanted everything he said. You needed him to break you just to put you together again, because you were his, his, his and you wanted him to claim you just like this, unapologetically, brushing the depths of you with every stroke, making you ache for him long before, during and long after--- you’d never get enough.

“Oh you want that?” he hummed with wicked glee as he felt you clench around him, fingers quick to gather your slick and circle your oversensitive bundle of nerves, rippling a mindless cry of please from your throat. “You really are mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Steve--- so close-”

“Yeah, I’m here, sweetheart. Give it to me.”

Never ceasing the attention to your clit or his frantic thrusts, Steve’s burning palm laid over your belly in a silent claim – and you were done for.

Chanting his name over and over as he rode it out with you, you almost missed the string of curses under his breath, his pace growing erratic, his hold on your turning bruising.

“Shit, doll, that’s it, that’s it--- fuck, look at you.”

Your walls fluttered around him again. Eyes snapping wide open, you caught him in a moment of utter bliss, crimson lips parted with a guttural moan of your name, messy hair sticking to his forehead, that unreal body having gone rigid as he spilled inside of you, nothing but small frantic motions of his hips as he prolonged his pleasure. With you. In you. You did that.

This was an image and feeling you’d remember forever – and planned to relive it many, many times to come.

A barely noticeable tremble to his muscles – you did that, the pleasure with you rendered a supersoldier boneless – he slowly, oh so slowly pulled out with a whimper on your part. You felt his seed spill down your sensitive lips as he lowered your almost limp body to the mattress, biting back another sound when the feeling sent a pleasant shudder up your spine.

Eyes fluttering open, Steve’s gaze trailed over your spent body before settling on your face, charming an exhausted but utterly satisfied smile for you. Stretching his warm body over yours, your hands instantly finding purchase of his broad shoulders, he graced you with a soft kiss to your lips, fingers carding through your hair. That was definitely a thing for him – and you couldn’t complain; you only catalogued it for a future reference, sighing contentedly into his mouth, appreciating the firm expanse of his back under your palms, the brush of rock-solid thighs against yours.

Your breath hitched when your brain registered another very solid part of his body, the small sound having Steve release your lips.

“Are you okay?” he fussed sweetly, your momentarily broken mind unable to appreciate the sentiment.

That’s not possible. That’s not how-

Your throat, already hoarse from crying Steve’s name repeatedly, turned sand-paper dry – or at least your choked voice sounded as if it did. You clenched your hand into fist to stop the urge to check what your mind had trouble to comprehend.

“GG, are you still…?“

Steve whole body radiated unnatural warmth more than usual already – but his face turned into a furnace as his forehead rested against yours, eyes closing.

“Serum. Not still… again,” he admitted reluctantly, having your racing heart skip a startled and giddy beat. Your body went stiff.

Oh. Okay. Right, right, right- That was fine. That realization didn’t feel like someone just rearranged your guts and had tingles run through your whole body. The prospect of this absolute god of a man ,who had got you off in ways all your past lovers combined could never, being able to do it all over again did not short-circuit all your rational thoughts. At all.

Steve most definitely misinterpreted your stunned silence as something else than positively horny.

“Just… give me a moment,” he muttered almost apologetically, loving lips pressing to your mouth, then your forehead. “I’ll get something to clean us up in a minute.”

Yeah, no.

Licking your lips, you feasted your eyes on Steve’s worn features, fingers sliding to down his hair to scratch soothingly at his nape. Bashful smile appeared on his lips, briefly brushing yours before he went to rise from the position on his elbows.

You were quick to wrap your leg around his gloriously pulp ass, his eyes snapping open in surprise.

“Stay a little longer?” you offered softly, heart racing against your ribcage as your plan to seduce him again slowly formed in your head. “If that’s okay… please?”

“I’m whipped, aren’t I,” he chuckled breathily, but obliged, earning a bright smile from you and kiss on his nose that made him laugh feebly, the lines of his abs and his hardness brushing against your stomach, enticing you to let your fingers wander.

Wander over the solid strings of muscle on his back, over his shoulders, that damn vein on his arm just calling out for you, over his ribcage expanding quicker and quicker with every passing second of your tender exploration.

“You’re a damn piece of art,” you whispered, biting back a moan when you reached the sinfully defined V-line, wrist accidentally skimming over his still very hard length.

A small shift of weight and Steve’s fingers locked firmly around your wrist, gentle warning written all over his face. You looked up at him, shuddering in excitement as you recognized he saw right through you. Yet, he didn’t protest when your free hand slid down his torso and you strained your neck to touch your lips where you could reach, to the sharp edge of his jaw.

“Sparkles…”

His chest rumbled with the single word, bringing a smile to your face as you used the hook you still had around his leg to push your hips up.

“Yes, love?”

His fingers tightened around your hand, his expression hardening – but you could see it. You could see the absolute glee behind his irises, the dark satisfaction at the fact he was not the only one insatiable. He wasn’t the only one who hadn’t had enough.

And some very, very primal part of his brain roared upon the realization. Conveniently precisely the part you wanted to unleash now that you had got a very thorough taste what Steve was like in bed. If he wanted to keep you there for the rest of your days, you were absolutely on board.

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” he warned, having you licked your lips at the perfect opening for teasing.

“I don’t know, looks like it’s not me who needs to finish… something.”

The deliberately slow drag of your gaze down his body to the very evidence you were referring to was the last straw – or maybe it was the way your fingers stretched to touch the smooth skin of his cock again.

You didn’t even know how you ended up with both your hands pinned next to your head, but suddenly they were there. No pain in the movement – Steve was careful with that still, his thumbs even petting the insides of your wrists – but the glint in his eye was nothing short of dangerous. And it had your sensitive walls flutter around nothing, craving him filling you up again already.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it feels exactly like that,” you poked, chin pushed up defiantly, “Captain oh mine.”

The flash in his eyes spoke volumes.

Oh, you had done it now. And you loved it. But the reason why you could afford that, that you loved even more. The way Steve’s searching gaze roamed your face, checking, even if briefly, for any sign of discomfort and only then allowing himself to let loose, appealed more than anything to the last remnants of reason slipping from you. You had no doubt he would ruin your body in the best way; but you trusted him to rebuild it all the same. Playing with fire had never been so safe.

“Hm…” Steve pretended to muse, lips descending to yours, tenderly kissing your lower lip, before his teeth sunk into it and tugged at it, having your breath hitch. “Well, sweetheart, you know that sometimes I do rise to a challenge.”

One of your wrists released, your breathing quickened as Steve’s palm dragged down your side, cupping your ass, fingers dipping into between your tender lower lips again.

“We’ll see who’s gonna need what when I have one of my favourite fantasies played out right in front of me.”

Euphoria exploded behind your eyelids already as two of his fingers scooped his spent and entered you, slowly massaging your most sensitive spot before he scissored them.

“What’s that?” you humoured him, rocking your hips into his generous touch, a soundless oh god escaping you when his thumb flickered over your puffy bundle of nerves.

His mouth slanted over yours in a promise of pleasure, muffling your noise of protest when his thick fingers left you empty again, the smile forming against your previously preoccupied lips menacing.

“You writhing under me, senseless with need, desperate for what only I can give you… which I will… if you ask nicely enough.”

Three fingers slid into you with ease this time, making you cry out as the heel of Steve’s palm pushed against your clit. It was a touch of paradise, a surge of ecstasy to your veins – but you understood now that to truly seize it, you’d have to work and wait and plead. The premise had you trembling with need already.

“And you will, sweetheart. You will.”

Steve Rogers was a man of his word. Stubborn and determined, he delivered on his promise to the last detail. Pushing you right to the edge, only to stop and have you straddle him, have you work for it only to still your hips and steal your breathy cry, a taunting smile against your lips, his long fingers wrapped around wrist whenever you tried to cheat and touch yourself.

“Anything you need from me, love?” whispered to your mouth, the crack in his voice the only indication he wasn’t all that composed as he wanted you to believe. “I’d love to help. I’d love to see you come undone… you want that too?”

“Was that… a please? I didn’t quite catch that, you know I’m of age…”

A shaky delighted laugh at your pathetic ‘fuck you’ turning into a whimper when you found yourself on your belly all of sudden, fingertips teasing your inner thighs, brushing your lower lips, heady kisses with a devious smile coaxing another plea from you as his weight over you reminded you of how much of an upper hand he had.

The ‘good girl’ sounding a little choked, a testimony of how no matter how delirious he had driven you with pleasure, this was his fantasy played out with in front of his eyes. The ‘I’ll give you anything you ask, Sparkles. Everything. Always.’, fingers interlaced with yours when he finally gave you what you begged for, a reminder that despite the mischief and the indulgent dominance, you were utterly loved.

Broken and rebuilt all at once, exhausted to the point of barely keeping conscious when Steve kissed your shoulder, covering you with the warmth of his body, gently angling your head and whispering to your lips how he loved you, how good you were for him, to him, as if you had just made a terrible sacrifice. Tenderly cleaning you up where you had been joint, a fresh trail of kisses up your spine, bringing a faint smile to your face.

“I’ll be right back. Can I bring you anything, love?”

You only grumbled, genuinely too tired to move anything, even your mouth. Steve’s soft laugh was but an echo. You didn’t want to know what time it was – too sated to really care.

“Water and jelly beans maybe?”

You forced to corner of your lips rise higher, willing your voice to form at least a murmur.

“You did not pack jelly beans into your overnight bag,” you hummed.

At Steve’s chuckle and something landing a foot from your face, you cracked an eye open. A goofy smile spread on your lips, even as snacking was the last thing on your mind. This man. You spied a bottle of water in his hand when he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching to push damp strand of hair from your face.

“You’re perfect,” you murmured, gazing up at him with tired fondness, which he wholeheartedly reciprocated. “I’m keeping you.”

His smile turned brighter than the sun, making you close your eyes.

“Yeah? I’d like that,” he said lowly, fingers carding through your hair lovingly, before stroking your cheek. “Come on, Sparkles, gotta get some water into you at least.”

With a huff, you opened your eyes again, trying to regain control of your heavy limbs. He was right, but leaving the soft mattress, more so when you had Steve was right there, didn’t sound appealing.

Brows furrowing, guilt peeking from under his content smile, Steve helped you sit up, cradling your head to his shoulder.

“I’m s-“

Your palm landed on his bare chest with a small smacking sound.

“Don’t you dare, keeper.”

He kissed the top of your head, letting you feel his smile again when you nuzzled into him – comfort, warmth and familiarity.

“Come on, Sparkles. Water, teeth and then sleep,” he negotiated, setting an example as he downed half the bottle, never easing his support to your body. A part of you wanted to complain it was easy for him to say with his serum-boosted stamina, but for one, you didn’t want to be a cry baby, second, you were too blissed out to even think to voice any complaint and third, how could you grumble when your GG was once again so effortlessly nurturing?

He dutifully supported your weight when he seated you on the bathtub to brush your teeth, carried you back to bed, settled you against his chest when you laid down and gave into the exhaustion before you managed to wish him goodnight and he didn’t say a single word of complaint – though maybe he snickered a bit once or twice. Fondly.

Tipping over the edge of consciousness, you thought you felt a kiss on your forehead, a gentle whisper covering you warmly just as you were slipping under.

“I’m keeping you too.”

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

I’m imagining Sparkles’ phone ringing in the morning to get ready for their brunch with JJ, Will and the kids and Reid - Steve reluctantly picking up instead, when she sleeps like dead. I see him apologizing, claiming you had trouble sleeping. JJ muttering ‘you go girl’ under her breath, but responding with a motherly wannabe worried voice, offering to make it a lunch instead, and self-highfiving the second she ends the call😅 Steve being too content to worry about it and snuggling back to Sparkles 💕

ANYWAY. Thank you for reading and for your feedback!

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #former bau agent reader #agent reader #steve rogers fluff #criminal minds x mcu #mcu x criminal minds #love on the brain #no pressure #anika ann

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