⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

You didn't move at first, still trying to process everything as you pretend that his words didn't hit you like a physical blow. And, as the initial shock fades after a long, pregnant silent, something else rises up to take its place. Not fear, not horror, but a deep, aching sadness for him.

You look at Alucard, really look at him. At the ancient loneliness in his crimson eyes, hidden behind a mask of confident menace and the danger you grew to love. At the way he stands, poised for a reaction, ready to be rejected or feared or fought. At the offering he's made, not a ring, not a poem, not a declaration of love, but death. Because that's all he knows how to give.

"Oh, honey," you whisper. "Oh, my love..."

You sigh, a soft, shaky exhale. Then, slowly, you reach out and gently take his hand, same one that is still with his fingers in the trigger of his guns. You feel the coolness of his skin, the impossible strength in his fingers.

And you hold on.

Alucard stiffens. No one calls him 'honey.' No one touches him like this, like he's something precious, not something to be feared. He's not used to that, and maybe that's why his dead heart starts beating only for you.

"You've been alone for so long," you continue, your voice thick with understanding as your hand went to his face, thumb caressing his cheek with a gentle touch. "So long that you've forgotten how humans show love. You've forgotten that we don't prove our devotion with terror and trophies."

You lift his hand and press it gently against your own chest, letting him feel the steady, living beat of your heart. "This," you say softly. "This is what you're supposed to offer. Not their hearts. Mine. And you already have it. You've had it for a while now, you dramatic vampire king."

You look up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. "The proposal I want involves you. And me. And maybe a quiet night in with terrible movies and takeout food for me. It involves you drinking my blood and maybe a quickie or two. It involves building something together that isn't built on graves."

You squeeze his hand hard enough for him to let go of his weapons. They fall to the floor and you both ignore them, as you can feel entirely his hands on yours now. "You don't need to bring me death. You just need to be here. That's all I've ever wanted."

Alucard stares down at you, and for the first time in centuries, something in his chest ache, a feeling so unfamiliar he almost doesn't recognize it.

You smile, soft and warm. "The heads are a hard no no, though. Just so we're clear."

Hope.

Love blooming in his chest.

Happiness.

He feel lightheaded.

A tear, red-tinged, slips down Alucard's cheek. He doesn't wipe it away. He isn't ashamed.

“Hmm~ But I’m your brat.”

His thumb traces your cheekbone, impossibly gentle, “In my defense, you make it really hard to hold back when you beg like that.”

You try to swat at him, but your arm just... flops. Pathetically.

He grins, “Cute.”

"Sh'up."

“Make me.” He leans down, pressing a feather light kiss to your sweaty forehead, “Actually, don't. You can barely move. It wouldn't be a fair fight.” Another kiss, this one to the tip of your nose. “Don't move a muscle, not one. Doctor Valko’s orders.”

“You're not- not a doctor-”

“Hmph, well i’m your personal one tonight.”

He vanishes into the bathroom -click of the light, hiss of running water- before returning with a warm washcloth draped over his shoulder and a glass of water in hand.

“Drink first.” He tips the glass to your lips, patient, waiting while you take small sips.The first swipe of the warm cloth across your cheek is heaven. He works with focused gentleness that steals your absolute breath away- wiping the mascara threatening to stain your cheeks, the pearly streaks from your belly, the slick mess from your inner thighs. 

But his movements are almost too careful now. Like you're made of glass. Like he's terrified of breaking you further.

The cloth moves higher, and his expression shifts again- guilt flickering through the warmth as he reaches your collar. The bite mark there has dried, crusted with blood, the perfect imprint of his teeth purpling against your skin.

“Shit.” He winces, dabbing carefully at the wound. “I really did a number on you here, huh?”

“I liked it, felt good~” you mumble.

“Yeah?” A hint of that playful smirk returns. “Liked getting marked up by your big bad wolf?”

Then his gaze falls on something in the corner of the bed, “Oh, perfect.” a silly gift he'd given you months ago that had somehow become a permanent fixture in your shared space. The little stuffed wolf has button eyes and an embroidered smile, and it's quite possibly the most ridiculous thing he's ever purchased.

He loves it. (He loves that you love it.)

“Look who's here,” he says, voice warm and playful as he makes the stuffed wolf bob and weave in front of your nose. “Mr. Wolfie was very concerned. He heard all that screaming and thought something terrible was happening.”

You snort weakly.

Valko pitches his voice higher, making the plush nod sagely. “‘Are you okay?' Mr. Wolfie asks. ‘That big mean wolf wasn't too rough, was he? Should I bite him?’”

“Oh my god-”

“‘I'll protect you,’” Valko continues, completely shameless, pressing the little grey snout against your cheek in a playful kiss, “‘I'm very brave. Very fierce. Grr.’”

The childish gesture is so at odds with the man who just fucked you senseless- who'd knotted you so deep you'd sobbed- that you can't help but giggle. “Valkooo,” you finally manage, pinching his nose weakly, “I'm okay.”

Then you look up at him, one hand drifting to rest on your belly, “We're all okay. All three of us. I promise.”

His ears perk up at that- both standing tall and alert, swiveling toward you like satellite dishes catching the most important signal in the world. Something in his expression cracks open, the playfulness still there (never fully gone, with him) but bleeding into something rawer underneath. Something that looks like home.

He stretches out beside you, gathering your tired body against his chest and tucking Mr. Wolfie securely in your arms. His face nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in like you're the only air worth having.

“All three of you,” he repeats softly. His palm spreads warm over the swell of your belly, right where his pups are growing. “My little pack”

His lips brush your forehead as his tail wraps around your legs and hips like a living blanket, soft fur warming every inch it touches.

“My pups,” he whispers, quiet and wondering, thumb tracing slow circles over your bump. “My beautiful wife. All mine.”

His chin comes to rest atop your head. The tail curls tighter, cocooning you in red softness,

Safe. Loved. His.

Alucard had been alone for a long, long time. He never imagined he’d marry a human, much less have a child with said woman. 

“He loathes me,” Alucard announced dramatically as he entered the bedroom. You were half-asleep; not quite as an early riser as your husband and son, and sat up in a slight daze, trying to blink the sleep away. You only felt the weight of Alucard’s body on the mattress as he settled his face against your stomach. 

Instinctively, your hands tangled in his curls. Alucard peeked—watching the way that your mouth pried open to let out a soundless yawn, your lovely hair mussed as a result of a well-rested night. “Is that so?” you hummed, already knowing whom he was referring to. Your fingers gently raked through the strands. Alucard spoke into your stomach, sullenly tugging at a loose string from your nightgown. “Angelo refused when I asked if I could play with the butterflies too.” 

You suppressed a smile, trying to take your husband seriously. “Oh?”

“Even after I woke up with the boy’s knee digging into my side, he won’t let me join him in playtime.”  

You could tell he was a bit miffed. “I suppose he prefers those filth bugs over his own flesh and blood.” Pfft. How childish. 

It was endearing to see how much Alucard adored your son—from the moment Angelo was born, he was smitten at the sight of the little life you both had helped create. He could not get enough; you’d have thought Alucard birthed Angelo himself. That baby, a fragile and precious being, was growing faster and faster every day. Time didn’t stop for anyone. And so Alucard was trying to make the most out of fatherhood. Your dear little Angelo was now four winters old and he loved the outside. It was a battle just trying to get him to come inside the castle to eat, bathe, and sleep. Especially he loved to play with insects, which was a bit surprising considering neither you or Alucard were particularly fond of them. 

Your hands consoled your dear husband, moving soothingly over his head and face which nearly lulled him back to sleep. Seeing his frown lessen made your eyes soften. When you’d first met Alucard, he carried this look of perpetual sadness and even though you loved him as he was, you feared he would retain such expression on his beautiful face forever. Seeing him like this truly warmed your heart. 

You leaned down, face close to his, hoping to plant a tender kiss on him when—“Papa!”

Alucard perked up at the sound of his beloved son calling for him, immediately rising, leaving you to kiss the air. 

Arms outstretched, Angelo bounded towards Alucard on the bed, who mirrored his action, thinking the boy wanted to embrace, only to be betrayed by his own kin. Angelo placed some type of slug onto Alucard’s hand. 

At Alucard’s lapse in judgment, Angelo let out a squeal. Your husband tried not to immediately fling the thing away; though he barely managed with that bug slowly moving in his palm. “O-Oh.. this is..” 

Disgusting? You thought, mentally shivering, a  bit glad that it was him and not you. You caught Alucard’s subtle eye twitch, and could tell he was calculating the consequences of throwing the insect away at the great risk of upsetting your son. 

“Wonderful..” 

Angelo turned to you, seeking approval, at the same time that Alucard swiveled, silently pleading for help. The scene was just too amusing. Alucard was not pleased when he saw you clamp a hand over your mouth, “I-It’s truly wonderful my dear.. pff..” 

“It is not funny, (Name).” Ohh, he was mad. For some reason this made you laugh harder, your shoulders shaking from it, only muffled noises escaping you. Angelo’s eyes glittered with innocent joy, beaming at your words.  He joined you in laughter, clapping his hands as if his father’s discomfort was the most amusing thing in the world. 

In another moment, where a dirty slug wasn’t crawling around his hand, Alucard would’ve been delighted by the sight of his wife and child laughing… but their source of amusement was currently at his expense. “You two.. are horrible..” he muttered with a stern face. And yet, he wasn’t truly angry. 

Still, when he glanced down to look at the bug, he squirmed. It was bad enough you found this hilarious, but encouraging Angelo too? “It’s wonderful”??? How incorrigible. 

“Don’t say that,” he replied in dismay. “You’re a bad influence!” At his accusation, you looked away in shame (still laughing). “I’m truly.. pfff.. sorry my love..!”

You weren’t the least bit sorry. You were only looking away to laugh! 

Without much thought or malicious intent, Alucard tossed the slug in your direction. 

“Eee!!” You jumped out of bed like a spooked cat, body twisting to swerve the bug, flinging pillows and blankets aside. Alucard didn’t imagine you’d react so violently, his action delayed as his arm reached out but failed to catch you. His golden eyes widened as you leaped out of bed, limbs flailing wildly. 

Angelo was loving this, bouncing on the bed with glee. Alucard on the other hand, felt guilty for acting too petty. Fortunately you seemed to be fine, strown on the carpeted floor below. Your legs were up in the air, the rest of your body on the ground, causing your nightgown to ride up to your thighs. Your hair was sprawled around your head, a bit out of breath as you narrowedly escaped the bug of doom.

Angelo had leapt down to save his slug but Alucard’s gaze was on you and your compromising position. With your nightgown hiked up, a good portion of your legs were exposed. He couldn't help it. At the sight of his wife like that, Alucard’s mind began to machinate inappropriate thoughts. His golden eyes were drawn to your lovely thighs. It was difficult to swallow because his throat felt dry. 

He was already regretting tossing the stupid bug. It was a moment of pettiness but now this had taken a sharp turn, impure thoughts began invading his mind. He swallowed again. 

 “Ange, my sun..”  you sat up, blowing a strand of hair away from your face, “Please don’t bring insects into the bedroom anymore.” 

Angelo was blissfully unaware at his father’s sudden disposition. He continued giggling, eyes glimmering with excitement, slug cradled gently in his little hands. Your son’s golden ringlets bounced as he nodded obediently to your words. “Good boy.” You ruffled his hair. “Now, go on with your governess. She’s probably losing her head looking for you. We’ll be down for breakfast shortly.”

“Yes, mama!” With a cute little nod, Angelo bounded out of the room which is what Alucard had been silently praying for—needing to be alone with you. It was taking all his self-control to not drag you back into bed. 

His body felt hot. Alucard gripped the bed sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white as he attempted to compose himself, but it was impossible to look away from you right now. 

Once the door shut behind your son, Alucard moved to kneel in front of you, his legs on either side of you. He needed you desperately. One of his hands tilted your chin in a gentle manner. You were a bit confused as Alucard 

looked like he was about to say something, but didn’t. 

Instead, he leaned in and captured your lips. Right away, his other hand found your leg, moving upwards and pushing your nightgown higher. At that second you understood, letting out a soft gasp. His hand squeezed the flesh of your thigh, his lips pressing harder against yours in a heated kiss. 

With practiced touch, Alucard’s fingertips crept up higher and higher. He wanted to rile you up. He wanted to make you as desperate and flustered as he was. “(Name)…” he bit down tenderly on your lower lip, and pulled it in between his teeth. After a moment he pulled away, breath short. His eyes meticulously examined the nightgown, covering your body, impeding him from savoring the full sight of your beauteous mounds and curves. “Tsk. This needs to get rid of.” He tugged at your hem. “Yours first,” you muttered. Alucard blinked, in slight surprise before smiling proudly. “As you wish.” Pulling away slightly, he made a show of removing his nightshirt. He was slow and calculated with every movement, as if to tease you. He even looked down to you, seeking your face for a reaction. Once the material was dropped to the side, it revealed his lean and sculpted torso.