#weak reader

You sighed, and opened your apartment door after fumbling with the keys. It wasn’t surprising when you walked into your house nearly trashed. Every time Anti visited, it was like this. He had a habit of making everything difficult for you, but you’d never tell him that it was actually welcomed. Today though, you didn’t hardly say a word to him, and just tried to brush off his presence. You didn’t want to get teased any more than you already had been, not when you were hurt like this. 

“Dude what the fuck?! You can’t just come in here and ignore me!” You heard him run over and it only pushed you to move to your room quicker. He wasn’t even human, so of course he’d be able to beat you to the door. You dropped your chin to your chest, before trying to turn away from him. “Are you being serious right now?” He scoffed, and grabbed your shoulder to turn you towards him. “The fuck is your deal? W-” He paused when he saw your face. 

It was silent, and you couldn’t meet his eyes, ashamed you couldn’t put up more of a fight against the bullies that did this to you. Your eye was swollen, and there was a gash across your cheek from how hard the guy punched you…you cursed him for wearing so many rings, they only helped to tear into your skin further than it would have otherwise. Your sleeves covered the bruises for the most part, though one of them was clearly in the shape of a hand. 

The air shifted, small charges of electricity coming from Anti’s form as he seemed to nearly glitch in and out of reality. You took a step back, but he grabbed your shoulder to keep you close. “Who the fuck did it?” He spat, his eyes glowing green as it struggled to keep his emotions in check, only to fail miserably. His grip was nearly painful on your shoulder, and it seemed like it was taking every last ounce of his control not to leave even more bruises, intended or not. 

You sniffled once, and flinched from how intense the situation had become. “It doesn’t matter…” He was lightyears stronger than you, so it wasn’t surprising that when you tried to pull away from him, you didn’t get far at all. “Just some guys. I fought back though, so it’s okay.” You gulped, and struggled to meet his eyes.

He grabbed your chin roughly, and forced you to look at him. It was intended to direct your focus at him, but when you flinched he growled and let go, storming into the livingroom and throwing your couch against the wall, leaving a large crack that seemed to go through all the way if the neighbors screams were any indication. 

“A-Anti stop!” You called, and rushed up to him, but soon all of your emotions were contradicting each other. Lashing out at him wasn’t something you wanted to do, but your brain was speeding through a million scenarios in the blink of an eye. “Why do you even care? You bully me all the time! How is this even different? I figured you’d be happy with how much you seem to hate me.” You winced at your own words, hoping you didn’t take it too far, but you did effectively make him freeze in his rampage of breaking most of the belongings in the living room. 

“Hate you?” He chuckled, before it turned into a cackle that could have come from a villain in a tv series. “Why the fuck do you think I hate you?” The electricity crackled around you, and he turned and stepped closer to you. “If I hated you, I wouldn’t bother spending time with you. I’d probably just kill you.” His grin was wicked, and you had a hard time focusing on his words while that terrifying look was on his face. 

“Y-You just kind of bully me a lot, so…” You mumbled, feeling like you’d upset him. That was the last thing you wanted right now, and his emotions were so unpredictable you never knew what he’d do next. It was a game with him, really. One second he could be beating the shit out of someone a few streets down, cackling wildly, and the next second he’d be sitting on your couch throwing popcorn in his mouth laughing at some bad horror movie. 

He scoffed and raised an eyebrow, but his grin never left his face. “Yeah. I do bully you, but I’m the only one allowed to.” He shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If anyone else fucking messes with you, they’re gonna have to deal with me.” He cracked his neck, then his fingers as he stalked closer to you. 

It was a terrifying sight, and you backed away. Beforelong, your back was to the wall and he was towering over you. That grin only seemed to grow as your eyes widened in surprise. He elaborated, but really it only posed more questions. 

“If anyone’s going to break you, it’ll be me. You’re mine to tease, to taunt, to torment, and above all that? To protect. No one fucking messes with what’s mine.” He cackled, and leaned closer until his lips were only centimeters away from yours. “Anyone that hurts you only deserves the worst of what this world has to offer.” He leaned in, closing the distance between your lips. 

You gasped in shock at the sudden kiss, and he wasted no time in deepening it, one hand tangled in your hair as he pulled harshly and the other just barely at the base of your neck. It was nearly a desperate kiss, and you could barely breathe from how long he dragged it on for. Though after several moments of his tongue exploring your mouth, he pulled back. His smile was…still a wicked grin, but there were traces of tenderness in it. Very slight traces, but they were there. 

“Clean yourself up. I’ll be back.” He demanded, his voice sounding far too serious to have come from him. He snapped his fingers to make a display of his exit, before dissipating rapidly into particles and disappearing entirely. 

You pant to catch your breath, and stood there motionless. Did that…really just happen. Your hand trailed up, touching your lips softly to try and process the events that just unfolded. It wasn’t even clear how long you stood there, but a text notification popped up, and you pulled out your phone to see a message that gave you a genuine smile…despite questioning if it should have made you as happy as it did. 

Oh, how very lady like of you to faint at a frightening sight. Just looking down the open window; following the curve of the castle’s wall. Whatever ailed you was causing the shadows to move in the shape of a large being crawling. If it weren’t for common sense, you might have mistaken it for a bear. 

It was sharp fingernails penetrating brick, which was the final straw, leading to your fainting. Only a flash of that scene, then the landscape of woods, then the window frame, and finally the ceiling. Staring at it with a throbbing head until the darkness completely took over. 

“You should be more careful. The air here is not as forgiving as your home.” Your host says from the other chair.  

He’s different again. Although you’re the guest you’ve only seen him in bursts during your time here. First time he was the old man with unkempt hair and angry nails that you had imagined would live in solitary. Second he was walking straighter, seemed to have found a brush and probably used whatever expensive cream lords tend to buy. At the third, when his hair started to return to black, you decided to stop looking at him directly. 

“The air isn’t the only thing unforgiving about this place.” You say, not bothering to look at him. Instead staring to the fire before you.  

Everything that you’ve come across here is old. Including the chair your host sits in. It creaks from being pushed off from. The only indication that he was moving as his footsteps seemed to be silent. 

His presence next to you was announced by the clicking of glass on the side table. Your head almost falling to the side to look at it. There was nothing special about the wine glass, staring at the liquid inside. It was too thick to be regular wine. 

“And what, pray tell, have you done that needs to be forgiven?” He asks. 

Although he’d gone through changes, the nails were the same. With almost their own personality that take you away from the man for the briefest of moments. Without the strength to travel up his arm the nails were your new host. They hold the rim of the glass while waiting for you to speak. 

“That’s not wine,” You’ve seen that cup with thick liquid several times during your visit. Although he claims to not drink wine, it never occurred to think deeper into that statement. 

The nails let go of the glass in exchange for your cheek. Tiny pinpricks you wouldn’t have otherwise felt gently scrap along your jaw. Gently guiding your gaze to look upwards, right to the beast. 

“Now don’t change the subject. You know I don’t drink wine.” His thumb slides over your chin, point of the nail toying with your bottom lip. “What sins do need forgiven? For being unmarried at your age? Going to a royal bachelor’s castle in a foreign land? I can only wonder how they talked before you left. You haven’t spoken to your family in a while, will anyone look for you?”

“My cat.” You say, although he wasn’t really yours. Just a stray you fed and petted whenever he sauntered by.  

Truth was no one would notice you were missing. When ladies leave their homes, follow their art, the parents are braced to never hear from them. The only one that would notice your absents would be the pastry vender. And he’s probably happy that no one is taking all of the tarts anymore.  

Count Dracula’s smile is soft but changes his entire face. Tilting his head slightly, looking down the nightdress. “I’m afraid I haven’t received any letters from him.” His cupping hand slides down your neck, thumb rubbing the collar bone.  

Past few nights there were dreams of a touch softer than this. Just like the shadow, just like your strength, and just like your host they started as something abstract. An unknown, unshaped, being behind you that wasn’t worth questioning. Just keep your face to the pillow and enjoy whatever it was reaching around and inside of you. Waking up to your forehead and thighs sweaty and a bite mark on that pillow. 

Only now, looking and touching this man, that the being in the dreams had a face. Maybe if you had turned your head or opened your eyes you’d see him. See that slight smile replaced with open mouth breathing, watch it bite your back and drag along your neck. 

“What have you done to me?” You ask, you’re already so weak you can hear death’s footsteps. What did it matter if you asked questions you shouldn’t?

His hand slides down from your neck. Towards the left of your chest, resting over the top of your breasts. “It appears I have overworked you. Your heart is barely pumping anymore.” 

His hand slides through your nightdress. Chasing whatever little beats your heart was giving. Opening your dress to find the source; pointed thumb nail lightly pressing into the soft skin of your breasts. His touch wasn’t sexual, it was more medical. Like a doctor with a never-ending smug expression. When he finds the strongest point of your heart, he makes eye contact. 

“Words like yours don’t come easy, Dearest,” He says, putting his hand behind your neck and kneeling next to the chair. “You should retire for the night. The sun will be up tomorrow, and you’ll work with new strength.” 

“That’s not wine,” You say again, but he doesn’t reply. Just tilts his head and smiles. Holding your gaze until darkness takes you back into its arms. 

0-0-0

The journey to this place of red and ruin, as with most dreams, was done instantly. Dreams never had a responsibility to make sense: replacing the world’s ground with a few inches of thick red liquid. Shifting and moving your weight makes little ripples but refuses to stain the bottom of your dress. 

You don’t have to look up to know that he was approaching. Although silent, it’s hard to ignore him when he wants to be known. The breaking of nature’s laws cannot be ignored forever; the man with impossible height walking without sound, without sloshing the ground. It would have been better if he had been storming forwards. 

“I’m your wine,” You state instead of asking. Daring to look forward at his final steps in front of you. “You’re eating me, aren’t you?”

It’s more concerning that you didn’t flinch when he reached forward then anything. Hardly a reaction when he tucks hair behind your ear. 

“My dear, do you really think I don’t have a reserve? You are just a tiny bit of it,” His head cocks slightly again. Looking down to take your hand and back into your eyes. “But that will be just a memory. One you may peek into, after all this.”

“How long have you been killing me? Since the first night or did you need a taste first?” Life was fleeting the longer whatever this was spoke to you. What did it matter if you insulted him or not?