Gods Are Not Meant To Be Bound

Some Alucard from Hellsing NSFW hcs, please? (He's one of my favorite vampires and I just love him 😍)

You asked, and you shall receive~

N.S.F.W. under the cut!

He’s dominant and takes the lead by definition - He’s so used to his ways as a Voivode that he can’t do things any other way.

He’s more traditional, but with a little speck of the modern world and vampirism - He enjoys a bit of bondage, but would prefer taking his time with you, going cruelly slow and sensual until he hears you begging for his mercy.

He doesn’t want getting rough with you unless you ask, in fear of hurting you, and even then, he would be very careful not to do something bad with his vampiric strength.

It takes a shit ton of composure out of him to not bite your neck when he kisses you, but even if you allow him to take a taste of your sweet blood, stopping would be the most difficult thing he’s ever done in his life.

Alucard prefers being on top, he loves looking down at you and taking in the sweet imagine of you and all the expressions you make while he’s hitting all the right spots, but if you ever want to have your fun riding him, he wouldn’t deny you.

Don’t be afraid during oral, he knows very well not to mistakenly scratch you with his long fangs... But he has a long tongue that does absolute miracles, and you don’t need any religious figure to reach Heaven anymore.

He doesn’t talk much, and most sounds would be low grunts, but he’ll check on you frequently and make sure you’re okay and that he’s not being too much for you.

Alucard lives only for your pleasure - He’s old and doesn’t care much for his anymore - But yours is absolutely the most important.

When you’re done, Alucard would bring you to his chest and stroke your hair lovingly, whispering a soft ‘I love you’, when he’s sure you’ve fallen asleep.

A Night for Hunting Ch 12 -The Feeling of Safety

T/W: Alucard (Ultimate) x F!Reader, Vladcard (that’s right, daddy makes his appearance), predator/prey, hunting, ruthless vampire king, romance, Romanian translations Words: 4855 On AO3

I am so excited to finally present this chapter! The premise was planned from the beginning and living rent-free in my head (happy to evict it at last) since I decided to extend this series months ago. I hope you like it! I am no history buff, but I did some light reading on Vlad and the contents of this chapter are also based on how Alucard behaves in Ultimate. A bit nervous, but I hope I got the feels right.

Happy belated Mid-Autumn Festival, fellow Chinese and (other nationalities) who celebrate this occasion! The full moon was beautiful.

Many thanks to @michi-tala for helping me with fine-tuning the Romanian phrases!  @alastorhazbin

“You really are a king?" You asked, incredulous. 

How could this be? A king should be the inspirational leader who guides his nation through strife and peace to glory, the shining star who navigates the tumultuous waters of diplomacy and the horrors of battlefields. A ruler with the intellect to create and uphold the laws, social institutions, and infrastructure to bring about prosperity. He should be someone well-versed in the art of war, yet mannered and cultured to mingle with others in his high society of privilege. 

In other words, someone not quite like Alucard The Boor, who was inflexible about negotiations, poorly socialized, and a stalker to boot. What kind of king had the time to stalk some peasant woman for two years just for fun?

You however had to reconsider your conclusions. The longer you stared at that cocky profile, the more obvious it became that if you squinted, there perhaps was something a little regal about him. He was certainly not lacking in intelligence. And sometimes he demonstrated highly sophisticated mannerisms when he felt like playing the gentleman. He even spoke like a snobby British aristocrat.

Alucard chuckled to himself quietly at your racing thoughts. His eyes closed at the distant recollection of his past. At nearly six centuries of age, he found himself often ruminating about the past, whether as a human or vampire, but when pondering his first life, it was like reliving someone else’s. He remembered the anger, pain, and humiliation vividly. There was regret about his upbringing and later decisions as voivode, even if there were those actions during his reign that were necessary for the survival of his country and Christianity, and parts of Europe continued to view him as a hero to this day. But it all happened so long ago, he barely felt anything anymore, except a faraway, numb regret. 

He was silent when recalling the fresh woodsy scent of the fir trees in his mountains. How he loved to ride through their forests with the wind in his face when he went hunting. His city Târgoviște possessed beauty beyond imagination, before he burnt it down and turned it into a desolate forest of corpses. Perhaps there was some melancholy when reminiscing about his homeland.

Warm fingers landed lightly on the sigils adorning the back of his gloves. Feline eyes opened to narrow slits to watch you looking at him with a questioning stare. It seemed you were finished with mocking his ways in your head.

Flattering child. Innocent little human. You know not of the monster you have involved yourself with, he thought.

“Cetatea (Citadel) Poenari sat atop the mountains. In its prime, it was an impregnable fortress with steep walls that offered a spectacular view of the forested canyon on the Argeș River. You would have appreciated its beauty.”

“Was that your home?” You asked.

“One of them. Its ruins are in what is now known as Romania.”

Wide eyes stayed on him before curving with merriment. “I think I would love to visit your old home one day.” Your wrist flicked in his direction to gesture at his dress clothes. “Did you look like this back then too? There’s no way you dressed this loudly then, right, Your Majesty?” You snickered while putting emphasis on his royal title.

He turned his hand over to grasp your fingers in his. “You wish to see me? All of me?" His brow rose as he evaluated you.

The room chilled suddenly and you hesitated. His shadow was facing toward the light, reaching for you, and the silhouette was wrong. You’ve already seen his flowing shadows, extra eyes, and bats, as well as when he assumed the face of another man. Was there more? Something forbidding was in the air.

“Umm…not the bugs. Please never the bugs again,” you whispered, trying to keep the mood easy tonight.

The orangey-yellow in his eyes spun like molten gold as he petted your fingers before lacing your hands together. Alucard leaned towards you, and as he did, he changed. This was important. Somehow you knew what Alucard was about to show you was intimate, a secret he did not carelessly share with others. You stopped breathing as you watched his transformation happen before your eyes.

Raven locks lengthened until his hair was past his thighs, phantom wind making the ends billow in the air like they were alive. Gangly arms filled out, his chest growing broad and putting on hard muscle in seconds. His red duster turned liquid and flowed over the heavy armour that materialized, settling into a black cape that was as intangible as his tresses at the frayed, surging ends.  

His angular features grew wider at the cheeks, jawline becoming chiselled and covered with coarse stubble. The fiery gaze burned with wisdom and life experience. You had no words as you got a better look at this imposing man who now stood towering over you with his arms at his side.

"This was how I appeared as a human when I perished."

You stared at him from the couch, sitting with your legs in front of you in a “W.” Your mouth was parted as your eyes slid sluggishly over this dark warrior with disbelief. Power rolled off of him. It was in his bearing, the deadly grace with which he conducted himself, and the way the air was not quite right around him.

"You really are breathtakingly beautiful," you told him. 

Alucard purred at your praise and your skin tingled. His rumblings were deeper than normal and it was so unexpected despite his now stockier build. 

“...May I… touch you?” 

Golden-orange glinted with warmth as this stranger stooped down for you to inspect his new body. You tentatively brought your hand up to his face and stroked his cheek. Cold. This Alucard’s skin was still cool to touch. The texture though, that beard was so scratchy. You ran your fingers through his hair, which was as soft as you remembered, but now so long you didn’t even reach the ends with your arm fully extended. 

His name was an anagram. Alucard was a Romanian vampire. Your idiot brain finally made the connection that was in front of you this whole time.

“...You actually are Dracula?” The Son of the Dragon, a king and warlord from the Middle Ages. Probably one of the oldest –and strongest– of vampires.

“You are speaking to Count Dracula of Wallachia.”

You shivered at his voice. Even his accent was different, so foreign and exotic. It did things to you, but your mind had always been stronger.

If memory served you correctly, history did not have favourable things to say about the real Dracula. The Sir Impaler staked people, including women and children, for all sorts of reasons and no reason as well –as a gruesomely effective warfare tactic, for sport, and petty offences alike. He was the king who invited the sick and homeless to his keep for a feast and burnt them alive as a way to empty the streets.

“Yes, I commanded all of those acts in my past life.”

Fright blemished your features and you jerked away until Dracula’s gauntlet shot out to catch you and bring your palm back to his face. He took in the thin line your lips formed and the furrowed brows around your spooked gaze. 

“But that will not be a fate reserved for you,” he promised with a sombre expression. Your eyes searched his face to judge his sincerity, wanting more than anything to continue trusting him after learning his identity, even when forced to confront the reality of the nature of your relationship. 

It was wrong.

The king before you stood tall, his dignified comportment unwavering after the passage of centuries of grim tales told about him. He did not lie to you, nor did he offer excuses for himself. His noble features, proud and uncompromising, were solemn as you contemplated him. 

Alucard never lifted a finger against you.

The warlord’s wicked piety preceded him, his prestige vicious and calculated. Any means to achieve his ends, which left ruination in his wake. Everywhere he went, he sowed destruction and instilled fear, even amongst his own people. 

He was not mentally well.

If Alucard did not care for you, you would be worse off than dead. 

Yes, by showing how he was a murderous vampire, an undead hellspawn who didn't die when he was supposed to.

He was violent and dangerous. What in the world were you doing with him?

You had your wellbeing and that of your family to worry about. What if entwining your fate with his ended in trouble that somehow found its way to them? Even as Alucard, he could be sadistic, harassing and nearly driving you to madness long ago. He continued to enjoy aggravating you and at times made you angry beyond belief.

You should not be with him. Tears came to your eyes.

But time and time again, Alucard came to protect you and went out of his way to take steps ensuring your safety and comfort. He looked after you when you were incapable and let you in on secrets about himself.

You fought with yourself. Alucard and this stranger before you were in fact one and the same. For all his nefarious ways, he did have honour, in his own twisted way. 

You were past the point of right or wrong.

The heart was never rational. You wanted to remain with him. So with an uncertain quivering heart, you chose him too. You got on your knees and went up to this infamous veteran to huddle against his chest, needing to see if the sense of security you felt whenever Alucard was near was present with this form of his too. You couldn’t even look at him.

Vermilion flames smouldered gently without your notice.

A hand went delicately across your back to hold you close for several moments before tracing along your shoulder blades. An arm went around you and settled at your waist. Then multiple shadow tendrils wrapped you loosely around the ankles, thighs, and biceps. You shuddered at the electric contact with his darkness. Prickly stubble dug into your chin as this king claimed your lips for his own. He was as gentle as Alucard. It was comforting and eased your unsettled thoughts.

You finally pulled apart.

“You are timid with me,” he announced, breastplate vibrating with the bass of his voice. 

“Everything we do is new,” you said as you put your arms around an icy plated torso and watched the end of his cape twirl. His lips chased yours as you looked away again. Relaxing into his embrace, you whispered, ”I can’t believe you are real,” as if speaking louder would make him disappear like a mirage.

“The legends have a basis.”

He ran the backside of an armoured finger across your cheek. His expression was soft as you met his gaze again, nothing as severe as his rugged appearance suggested. The shadows enveloping your limbs flared.

“What say you? Would you like to be one of my kind?"

Huh? He meant…he meant turning you into a vampire? And offering you eternity?

Again you tensed. He was serious. The weight of his question hung in the air between you until you gulped and averted your eyes, nervousness tainting the air thickly.

"I suppose it is too soon to ask you this." The hand came to rest on your head where he ruffled your hair. You glanced up at him in surprise.

Dracula smiled at you. "My Darling."

--------------------

The gleaming silver orb above loomed large, illuminating the navy skies with an ethereal haze. The moon was full, just like that first night, so clear you could see every crater on her surface. Your anxiety around Dracula gradually dissipated. He had a much quieter disposition than the normal him, but honestly, a break from his usual provocative ways was appreciated. He was still the same person, you reminded yourself. You began to close the distance between you incrementally and walk closer until you brushed his side with every stride.

It was not yet Halloween. Actually, it was nowhere near that month of haunting. Anyone who happened upon the pair of you would find his full body armour odd. It was mildly ironic for you to comment about Alucard’s unconventional clothing, only for his ‘true’ appearance to be just as outlandish for these modern times. What did you expect? It seemed the king captured people’s attention no matter what he did in whichever era.

The relaxing stroll was picturesque. For once, the streetlights functioned as they should and lit up the quaint storefronts without Alucard’s interference. The boulevards were clean and the summer air fresh, but clamorous with singing crickets. The engines of the occasional car rumbled in the distance and punctured the tranquility. The first vampire let you lead the walk, wordlessly following you through every turn as he sensed your worries ebb with each passing minute, enjoying the way you eventually bumped against him with each step. 

A warm breeze brought the perfume of the faint sweat trailing behind you into his sinuses. His vampiric senses were hyper-aware of your presence, such as how your little heart pumped hot blood through your veins with each thud while you continued to wander.

How he missed roaming the nights together.

Vampires were natural hunters. It couldn’t be helped. Orange gold deepened into a lustrous crimson as his pupils narrowed into predatory slits.

Alucard was no longer beside you. There was only empty space and silence when even the insects fell quiet. Spinning around to seek him, you heard heavy purring in your head as fallen leaves rustled about in a swirling circle around you. 

"What are you waiting for Dear? RUN." A pointy nose poked your ear.

Jumping at the familiar voice, you felt the solid presence of him sighing into your ear from behind as he purred and nudged you.

Oh? He wanted to play? You unfroze with a smile, not needing to be instructed again. You took off, but it was different this time. You were able to see your path well enough to not trip over yourself, rapidly finding a way from the streets where the stray vehicle still roved and into pedestrian side roads.

Unlike past chases, there was no panic or fear. Despite your earlier misgivings, you could barely even remember why you were terrified of Alucard stalking you after all this time together. As you zipped through the desolate night streets, your heart pounded with exhilaration the longer you ran. It felt good to set aside your worries for now and just enjoy your time together. 

Alucard, you are here?

The shadows followed you with ease in the corners of your eyes. The rich, sanguine glow to their edges was a dead giveaway. You laughed as you took a turn leading you someplace you've never been before in the dead of night. With the knowledge that Alucard was with you, the night became a game full of mystery and adventure. 

He caught you by the waist, hauling you back to his chest while the arm that held you slowly slipped up your torso until he seized your breasts. The wandering hands were metallic and frigid against your skin. 

“If this was a real hunt, it would have concluded. It'd be sensible to surrender yourself to me now.” 

You squirmed in his hold with a breathless titter, earning a hiss in your ear and a lick to your cheek before he let you go. You giggled and used the opportunity to slither away and scamper off.

You ran and ran from his harrying; repeatedly he would catch and wrestle with you before you were released. The most brazen event was when he suddenly appeared and let you run face first into him, then stroked languidly down your rear until you found your bearings and escaped. How he taunted you.

Eventually you came to a stop when your breath escaped in soft pants, shirt clinging with your exertion. You looked around for somewhere else to go and perhaps hide so your vampire had to search before bolting again when you didn’t find a spot to your satisfaction. You didn't know where you were going at all, just making turn after turn wherever you could –through unlit alleys and parks and crossing under bridges, until you arrived at a ravine to recover. 

The vampire was nowhere to be seen. You snickered upon hearing something drop and a crackle in the dark. "Y–you don't scare me anymore. Just come out," you gasped out. 

Words that were spoken too soon. Trouble slid out of the shadows as several ruffians leered at you. Forcibly exhaling, you inched back at their appearances, ready to dash away in the direction you came from. Needles, used condoms, and other garbage littered the ground and the air was dank with the stench of old urine and vomit. So you stumbled into the derelict quarters of society’s undesirables, but you did not want their acquaintance.

"Leaving so soon, pretty bird?" One of the skinnier blokes sneered. He was covered in ugly tattoos.

“Why don’t you stay awhile and keep us company?” Another said. He was just as ratty as the first, but smiled as he approached. Their sinister intentions were clear as day, despite the false nicety.

“Yeah, we don’t often have the pleasure of such lovely companionship.” The third stood back where it was too dark to distinguish his features.

I do not appreciate others interrupting my hunt. Leave. 

The muted voice simultaneously thundered and the brutes shouted at the vacant surroundings.

“Who’s there?” 

“Piss off, wanker!” Tough words from the men, but you were already apprehensive not for yourself, but them.

The shadows at your feet bubbled up. 

“What the fuck?!” One of the hooligans hollered in shock at the mass of darkness that grew from the ground in front of you. He glanced back at his friends before squaring his shoulders.

The man crashed into an ancient conifer and was held there several feet off the ground, gasping for breath as he was slowly flattened –his face gave in first, the nose and lips crumbling inwards. It was as if he was submitted to the work of a hydraulic press. He heaved with effort to break free as his eyes bulged and his chest squeezed tight, unable to even scream under the crushing compression.

As you watched in shock, the death happened too quickly to process, yet like time slowed for you as well. His head popped like a gusher with blood jetting from both ears. You saw every detail as the ruffian's body was squashed by an invisible force until even his bones gave out and he became a splatter of viscera decorating the bark. Only a hand remained intact, but even that snapped at the wrist without a surface behind it to counteract the pressure.

You screamed at the crunching horror when it finally ended with a wet splat. 

Alucard rescued you yet again. He appeared nonchalant about his victim's barbaric demise, his stance at complete ease.

“!!!” Your would-be assailants were initially speechless as they jittered back at the supernatural display of violence.

One of the remaining men sniffled, swiping his nose as he howled,  “Arsehole!”

There was white powder dusting the ground and around their nostrils. They were high, which explained the ongoing aggression and bravado as knives came out. Your gaze flickered up to Alucard’s face.

You knew that maniacal grin, the one that reminded you of when you first saw him at work. No. All your fears about him resurfaced. You forgot how to breathe as you darted in front of him to cling to his arm. 

"You can't kill them!" You yelled.

Being with him was wrong.

He paused, the king's gaze sliding to yours with a bored expression. "Why?" He drawled callously.

He was violent and dangerous.

“Because you can't just go around killing people!"

"Why?"

Omfg did Alucard think he was the Terminator? As ridiculous as the exchange was, this was no movie. Alucard’s eyes narrowed as a savage aura flared and pulsed with danger when the remaining two men floundered backwards in jerky movements. Perhaps their sense of self-preservation was still existent.

Dracula’s baleful glare did not conceal his wrath. These worthless lowlives dared not only threaten you, but if it weren't for his presence, they would have violated you in the most disgusting of ways in this dirty scum hole. He knew it, because he could sense their base desires and the opportunistic evil that lay dormant within them. He too was a creature of the abyss who knew darkness when he encountered it. 

Unspeakable rage tainted his thoughts with promised violence. Their perverted longings were the ultimate transgression against you. It was unforgivable. You may be soft and kind, but he was not known for mercy. Rapists should be staked and displayed for others as a warning. 

There were millions of other ways he could end them and The Impaler started listing them. He could telepathically wipe their memories and order them gone, which was always the simplest solution when it came to nosy humans, but he wanted these ones dead.

He lifted his hand before you desperately caught it between both of yours and pushed it down, hoping to hold him back. Your stomach churned from his glower as you imagined what he was going to do to them. How many times was he going to shoot them? Or was he going to rip them apart with his bare hands instead? Would there even be anything left of them when he was satisfied with the mutilation?

“They didn’t do anything to me, I’m okay! Let’s just go home!” You pleaded.

“You do not get to decide who must die, draga mea."

"ALUCARD!"

"Alucard is not here right now." 

Wha-

The crimson gaze flicked back up at the interlopers and blazed with fury as the pair of imbeciles decided it was prudent to use your interference with his punishment as a means to flee. Their human movements were sluggish to his vision and reflexes anyways. He knew their intentions the moment they thought it, caught the twitching of muscles as they began to turn and run in slow motion. Cowards who could not even face their well-deserved execution.

So they should lose their legs first. 

They froze after mistakenly meeting Death’s gaze and receiving the order to remain motionless. The shadows licked at his feet and twisted, rising to whip about in the air. 

Shit. But –this was your vampire. At the same time, this was evidently someone else, a warrior. A king. How were you supposed to address him? Your Majesty? Dracula? That was his title and name. But what was his name? You were frantic. Think! What was it again?! 

"...Vlad…Please don't do this, I beg you…" Hauling all your weight, you threw yourself at him, the tears now falling freely as his tendrils stretched and lashed towards his latest quarries. How did it go from a beautiful moonlit walk together to this bloodbath?!

Through the fog of his ire drifted another scent beyond the putrid fear of his prey. Your fear. He saw the dread in your eyes. Countless others have made the same face while grovelling at his feet for mercy. You however, were not begging for yourself, but the remaining rotten swine behind you. He growled with displeasure at what you asked of him, the mind running feral with imagery of what he wanted to do, waiting impatiently for the miscreants to give him another reason to end them.

The Nosferatu glanced back at you. Your face was the same as that time, when he vanquished the undead that hunted you. He really was a monster. You were afraid of him. 

Upon realizing you had your vampire’s attention, you tried to reach him further. “Just…just take the blood of the one who's already dead. And then…" your voice cracked and dropped to a whisper. "Let's go home. Please."

He focused on everything that was you, on the salt of your tears and sweat overlying body lotion. Your desperation. In the background were the pungent stench of gore and the unwashed bodies of men. The king growled as he stared at you again. It was your second thoughts about what you were getting yourself into by being with him that did it. He snuffed out his need to kill as he came back to himself.

You were petrified about what was next, but Dracula won’t let you regret your decision to stay. He did not wish to prove your trust in him was misplaced or that your reservations about him were well-founded. 

“Since this is one of the only requests my darling little human has ever made of me, I shall grant clemency this time,” he snarled through razor teeth. The paralyzed men cowered at the demon in front of them, at last recognizing how close to Death’s door they came. 

"Vermin such as yourselves aren't worth the effort anyways." The unholy king’s eyes glowed with a hellish light. "Leave," he commanded. 

Under hypnotism, a ring of scarlet surrounded their irises and the thugs slunk away with a dazed expression. They were at last permitted to go through with their flight and disappear back into the bowels of London as his gaze bore holes through the backs of their skulls.

The danger passed. You were hiding behind the vampire, who felt your anxiety when his attention turned back to you. He could not fault your distaste for brutality and death. Despite his blinding fury moments ago, he was unable to maintain his anger with you. His expression lightened.

Silence. 

You licked your lips, trembling with a bone-deep fear you hadn't felt in a long time. “Are you not going to drink his blood?" Staring everywhere except at your saviour, you eyed the corpse of squished organs, bones, and flesh painting the vegetation.

"Do you seek your meals from the gutter?" He snorted, eying the pile with disdain. "Besides… you are more than enough." The vampire grinned, a single fang glinting in the gloom like he just told you the best inside joke.

Your eyes widened at the unexpected change in atmosphere from the offhand comment. Alucard and his mood swings. 

Taking a deep breath to soothe yourself, the tension was slow to leave you. You looked at him again. "Thank you for stopping," you told him with honest relief.

"Little one, you are safe when you walk the night with me. Nothing will harm you," he said as he faced you fully and brushed your cheeks gently.

You held his hand to your face, opening it up and leaning your cheek into the icy steel. He took a step to his right to block the view when you tried to examine the remains of the body turned into slush. A layer of clouds blocked the meager light of the moon so you couldn’t see it anyways. All you saw was the sunset in your vampire’s eyes.

You gulped. The eldritch power surrounding the vampire wrapped around you, and instinctively you knew it was cold, but you felt warm and safe on the inside. It felt like you were home. 

"I believe you." You took the single step to close the distance between you and pressed up flush against the vampire.

Affection kindled in those stunning eyes. There it was, behind the face of another man, this ruthless king, was the Alucard you knew and fell for. Your expression broke as you buried your face in his chest, needing reassurance as the mess that came to pass tonight caught up with you.

He was caressing your head again, tousling it to the beat of your heart when you peeked up at him with dewy-eyed innocence. Resplendent little human, he will shelter you from the horrors of the world.

"Luna vieții mele."

"Pardon?"

"Tu ești luna vieții mele."

You blinked in confusion, straining to try catching the gist of his words, but it was hopeless. Fortunately many Latin languages share some similarities. You were reasonably sure he mentioned the moon.

"Și fără tine, nu există lumină."

How infuriating. If there was something Vlad wanted to say to you, he could just do so directly instead of using a foreign language you didn’t understand for dramatic effect.

"What does that mean?"

He gave you a cryptic smile and offered his arm. “It is time to return." 

Yeah right, like hell it did. He said a lot more words than if he was just talking about going home. You stared at the outstretched arm of a gallant Medieval man, brows crinkling when he did not elaborate. It seemed you would have to figure out the meaning yourself.

You curled in to stay close to him, placing your hand on his arm and weaving your fingers around the crook of Dracula’s elbow so he could lead you home through the dark of night.

~To be Continued~

Ch. 13- TBD? "Stargazers in Romania"

Notes: Alucard really doesn’t like rapists.

Even knowing Alucard shapeshifts, it’ll take getting used to his other forms. It’d be weird if someone just accepts another body/face/voice/personality as their SO upon the first time meeting them, right? At least I think so. The Count is ‘her’ Alucard, for now at least.

This chapter isn't meant to be a character analysis of the historical person's actions, but more the reservations a rational person should have when deciding whether to stay as freaking Vlad III Dracula's SO.

It is admittedly a bit cliche that Alucard is always just in time to save the Reader from her demise, but in my other Hellsing work, she names him her “guide and guardian (angel).” The title is well-deserved.

*The next chapter will be delayed because I will be going on my honeymoon for several weeks. I’ll likely be able to fit in some writing time as we travel between countries. I’ll probably also be using that time to continue planning Part 2 of this story (we aren’t there yet). Yes that’s right, Millennium will feature in this fic, although I will only loosely follow the canon Ultimate events and be taking some liberties with how vampire things work.*

Buckle up, we’re only about half-way. I estimate there to be around 23-26 or so chapters in total to complete this fic, although later chapters will likely be shorter.

I've been searching for this story for MONTHS!!

come the rain

domini album

#6 Madara Uchiha

summary: in which, with rain comes truth.

word count: 6,197

a/n: i...i honestly can't bring myself to apologize for the length of this one / inspired by the bottom-center concept of madara in this drawing

warnings: izuna being a little shit (how many times have i used this warning now??); indirect mention of d*nzo; partial nudity (madara)

Izuna wasn’t at the Head Household like he said he would be, which, in itself, wouldn’t have been all that irritating if it weren’t for the fact that you’d inconsequentially let yourself into a home where not you best friend was, but his older brother, of whom you were now caught in an unexpected stare down with from the entry hall.

You awkwardly cleared your throat, “Madara-sama.”

You weren’t unfamiliar with Izuna’s brother, and there’d been plenty of times you’d found yourself in conversation with him before, but it was always strained and tedious to navigate – more difficult to participate in than even conversations with Tobirama, the man of few words that he was – though you were never sure if it was on your part or his.

Probably yours.

Since the signing of peace and the foundation of Konohagakure, the Uchiha Clan had become less of a constant threat to your Senju-aligned clan, and you’d become friends with Izuna over many months of mutual exasperation over the meetings you were trapped in as your clans’ heirs, and your complainings had eventually sparked a debate that turned into a spar that had left you both laying on your backs on one of the training grounds, laughing breathlessly at his singed hair and your burnt clothes. Comradery had come easily after that, and Hashirama had taken to putting you on mission and patrol teams together which had only strengthened your friendship over the last two and a half years since the village’s founding.

Madara tilted his head slightly, regarding you from where he sat on a zabuton at the end of the chabudai. The shoji doors of the porch were opened, inviting the chill of the morning into the house, and you could see the greenery of the central garden beyond the deck, leaves gleaming in the overcast rain.

“Do you make it a habit of letting yourself in to other people’s houses?” Madara drawled, finally relaxing the hand he’d had suspended, chopsticks pinched between his fingers, and you realized that he was eating his breakfast, the smell of steamed rice and fish reaching you from across the room.

You were still holding onto the latch of the door, and your fingers fumbled to pull it open again. “Ah – my apologies, Madara-sama. Izuna said he would be here, but he’s not, so I’ll just –”

Madara let out a short huff and waved his hand lackadaisically, chopsticks swimming in the air with the gesture. “You’re inside already – there’s no use in waiting outside in the rain.”

You paused, the door partially pulled open, unsure that you’d heard the Clan Leader correctly.

You glanced back at him, and felt your face warm when you met his eyes again, one of his eyebrows raised expectantly. Damn it, Izuna.

Slowly, you shut the door and tugged off your boots, leaving them alongside the spot where Izuna’s were supposed to be as you silently crossed through the opened sitting area to the dining room Madara was in. You hesitantly lowered yourself onto the nearest zabuton at the square table, folding your hands in your lap as you forced yourself to sit comfortably.

Madara’s chopsticks clicked against his plate.

“You can help yourself,” he said, gesturing with his chin toward the place setting that was no doubt meant for Izuna, but was – for obvious reasons – left untouched.

“Ah, thank you, Madara-sama,” you replied, cringing inwardly as you added, “but I ate at home already.”

You could feel his gaze on the side of your face as you made faux purpose in tugging loose the fabric of your pants bunched around your knee. Kami, you could punch Izuna in his aristocrat nose for subjecting you to this awkwardness with his brother, before eight in the morning no less.

“What plans did you and my brother have this morning?” Madara asked after a moment.

You glanced up at him again, and then suddenly realized that while you were wearing in the becoming-standard jōnin uniform, Madara was dressed only in a loosely tied navy blue yukata that hung open around his torso, one sleeve nearly slipping off of his shoulder and showing the edge of raised scar tissue along his collarbone.

You felt your face heat instantaneously and you furtively looked away, locking your sights on one of the leafy ferns in the garden in front of you as you tried to force the image of the man next to you from your mind.

He was hardly dressed, and you’d barged into his house, and Kami – his chest; there had to be a god or two out there laughing at you right now, because there wasn’t a version of reality you could imagine Izuna not cracking up if he found out about this.

“We were going to visit the weapons shops in the Eastern Sector,” you answered, keeping your gaze in the garden. “Tobirama mentioned yesterday that a new merchant was approved to sell in the market, and we were going evaluate his quality.”

Madara released a quiet hum. “I doubt Tobirama would let anyone sell in the weapons market if their wares didn’t meet the regulation standard.”

His stare was still on the side of your face.

“Call it curiosity, Madara-sama,” you said, tapping the hilt of one of your own kunai strapped in its brace around your thigh. “Izuna needs to replace his shuriken stock since our last mission anyway.”

Madara snorted. “I hope he told you that at a distance from the compound, should any of the ninbyō overhear him and tell Nekobaa he intends to buy from another weapons dealer.”

You smiled, remembering a particular story Izuna had told you months ago when you’d gotten him decidedly drunk from shōchū and he’d told you about the childish fears that had plagued him for years on end about the Uchiha Clan’s infamous munitions keepers in Sora-ku. Apparently he’d done one ninbyō wrong in stepping on her paw and it was only the pact between their groups that kept the feline’s claws out of his eyes; didn’t save the rest of his face, however, which explained the thin scar that cut a line from the edge of his left eye. For over a decade you’d thought it was a mark left on him by Tobirama, but you’d been hysterical to find out it was from a cat, of all things.

“I think he’d plant a garden of catnip to appease your Nekobaa if it meant keeping the ninbyō away from his face,” you chuckled, glancing toward Madara again before you could think better of it. The sight of his smile caught you off guard, his lips pulling into the swell of his cheek as he shook his head slightly as he lifted rice to his mouth. The expression was uninhibited by any level of decorum that you usually saw him with in clan meetings and events, and it was different from the smiles he shared with both Izuna and Hashirama; it looked private, a glimpse behind the outward projection of Madara Uchiha, Leader of the Uchiha Clan that you knew and just Madara Uchiha, a man who ate fish and rice for breakfast. And somehow, conversation with this Madara was easier than any other conversation you’d had with him before.

“Ah, he told you the story of his abuse of poor Mimiko?” Madara asked, amusement clear in his voice as he ate his rice.

“‘His abuse of poor Mimiko’?” you parroted, giving a short laugh. “Izuna is the one still scared of cats to this day – isn’t he the abused one?”

Madara smiled that same, private smile. “He hasn’t stepped on any paws since then, has he?”

“No,” you laughed again, and shook your head, “I guess he hasn’t.”

Madara gave a soft hum of agreement and then silence blanketed the conversation, leaving you in another limbo. Madara had finished his rice and had picked up a cup of tea, propping his other elbow on his raised knee as he rested his head against the heel of his palm and stared out at the gentle downpour over the garden. The shift in his positioning had opened his yukata further and you snapped your eyes away before you followed the line of a newly revealed, particularly thick-looking scar that spanned down his chest into the folds of his robe, if only to keep your face from heating again the longer you stared unsolicited at him, and glanced at the opened Uchiha Main House.

You’d been in the house a dozen times at least over the years, but you’d never seen it opened up like this during the rainy season, especially when you knew Izuna hated how the smell of wet soil seemed to never leave his clothes no matter how often he washed them. Come to think of it, Izuna didn’t even like the rain – he’d blamed his Uchiha blood and said that no one in a clan with a predominant fire affinity liked the rain, but the way that Madara stared out at the rain made you wonder if Izuna had spoken too generally.

Your eyes trailed back to him, and you were careful to keep your gaze on his face as you studied him.

There was a difference in him now than from what you were usually familiar with. When you’d first met Madara, he was still jagged around the edges from the stress of the war and the stretch of his already thin patience it took to garner in peace with Hashirama while fending off his Elder Council with their combative conversative politics and traditions. Izuna was hardly any help, you knew, since he took to taunting Tobirama into arguments – “A passive aggressive way in which to get revenge,” he’d explained after showing you the scar that should’ve been a death blow over his heart from the other heir’s ninjatō – that you had the pleasure of interjecting upon by request of Hashirama and thus spurring the argument between you and Izuna that had spawned your friendship.

The man sitting beside you now held none of that tension in his shoulders, and there was a feeling of…serenity that seemed rest around him as you continued to watch him stare into the rain, dōjutsu disarmed and none of his usual weapons adorning his body at all. To anyone who didn’t know him, Madara could have been a handsome stranger, a man who was mysterious by the presence of his scars, but could be anyone or no one at all. A part of you had always wondered if he had wanted to be Madara Uchiha, Leader of the Uchiha Clan, or if he’d only accepted the role as it had fallen into his lap with the death of his older brother – another story from another time when the shōchū brought out Izuna’s darker nightmares instead of his laugher. Who might Madara have been then, if not the man he was now?

A rice farmer, Izuna had jested, but a really shitty one.

A cool breeze swept into the house, making you shiver slightly.

You glanced away from Madara’s face and toward the open shogi doors. “Aren’t you cold, Madara-sama?”

Madara looked at you, and then shrugged slightly. “Uchiha run hotter than other shinobi,” he replied.

Yeah, no kidding, you nearly muttered aloud, acutely aware of his opened yukata and the attractive tilt of his head as he regarded you, but bit into the flesh of your cheek to stop the words from taking shape.

Instead, you nodded, and asked, “Madara-sama, do you know when Izuna is supposed to come back?”

You glanced at the Clan Leader and tensed when you found yourself meeting his eyes full on for the first time since initially coming into the house. You could see it when he squinted slightly at you.

“Why do you use the honorific?” he asked, but it took you a moment to process his words. You’d obviously made eye contact with him before – it was impossible to not at times, when the whole world seemed to gravitate toward him, you yourself locked him his orbit whether he knew it or not – but this was not the version of him that you were familiar with; there were no pretenses in his expressions as spoke to you.

You swallowed. “I-I’m sorry?”

Madara tilted his head again slightly, a section of his hair falling off of his shoulder and showing more of his chest. “You address me with the honorific, but not when you talk to my brother, Hashirama, Tobirama, or the other clan heirs,” he explained. “We’ve known each other for just as long, have we not?”

Your brow furrowed as he spoke. You had always addressed him with the honorific of his title, even though you’d been friends with his brother for years now, and even familiar with most members of his clan. It’d never really been intentional, not until you realized that calling him by his name alone meant more to you than just being his friend. “I – yes,” you said, struggling to find a proper response. “It’s just – you’re a clan leader,” you tried, and then immediately winced at your own words. Hashirama was just as much a clan leader as Madara was, and you’d gotten away with calling him ‘Hashi’ by accident before while you’d been in a hurry.

One of Madara’s dark eyebrow rose again as he watched you try to parse out an answer.

“But it’s your name,” you tried, and chewed your lip at his blank look. You rubbed your temple. “We’ve never really spoken, Madara-sama, like I have with Izuna, or Hashirama and Tobirama, and the others,” you clarified. “It’s different from them.”

“We’ve spoken many times before,” he replied, dropping his knee, and crossing his arms over his chest. “How is it any different?”

You wondered where you’d found the shovel that you were currently digging your hole deeper with.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “You’re not them,” you said, and watched Madara angle his chin. “I mean – that’s obvious, but I mean, you’re different. It’s just –” You blew an exasperated breath as his expression became more guarded, that ease he’d had slipping away with every word you spoke.

“You’re not like this, out there,” you blurted out, gesturing toward his sitting figure. Kami, you were glad the Uchiha didn’t have the same hearing abilities that the Inuzuka and Hatake did, else he’d no doubt hear your heart hammering against your ribcage. “This is different from when you’re out there, with them,” you kept talking. “You’re quieter, and…softer, I guess. It’s different, and not bad, at all,” you added, gauging the narrowing of his eyes again. Izuna would be rolling on the floor if he were here to witness this. “You’re just Madara right now,” you rubbed the side of your neck, ignoring the heat there, “not Mangekyō no Madara, the Uchiha Warlord. Just…Madara.”

A long moment of silence hung between the two of you, only the sound of the gentle downpour on the roof and in the garden to fill the air with a level of noise until Madara cleared his throat and his expression lost some of its hardness.

“Just Madara,” he said slowly, and then you felt the energy of the room shift as his dōjutsu activated suddenly, red bleeding through the hickory brown of his irises. The instinct to avert your eyes gripped you, but…you could feel the weight of his stare and there was something significant in it as you stared into the interlocking black tomoe. “Mangekyō no Madara, the Uchiha Warlord – how is he different from ‘Just Madara’?”

There was something incredibly beautiful about the Sharingan in a way that nothing else you had ever seen in your life compared. The dōjutsu was a weapon just as much as it was simply just another tool, and you’d seen plenty of patterns over the years you’d spent living alongside the Uchiha, but none of their eyes were quite as enthralling as their clan leader’s.

“Mangekyō no Madara, the Uchiha Warlord would rather me not drop the honorific,” you finally replied as you stared back at his kekkei genkai. Your heartbeat was thundering in your chest. “And he’d want me to be intimidated by his dōjutsu.”

Madara grunted. “And you think ‘Just Madara’ doesn’t want you to be as well?”

“I think if you wanted me to be intimidated, you would’ve put me in a genjutsu,” you answered evenly. His gaze narrowed again, and then you watched as he leaned onto the table, propping his cheek against his knuckles and exposing more of his chest to you. It was yet another effort to keep your eyes on his face and ignore just how much of him you could see around his robe.

“What if I’ve had you in a genjutsu since you entered the house and first looked at me?” he questioned, still staring at you. The intensity of his gaze was unwavering, but there was something different in the way that he gave you his undivided attention versus how you’d seen him trap other members of the leader council with his stare – there was no true intimidation in his eyes. “What if this ‘Just Madara’ lives only in a fictitious image I created?”

“You’d have to find inspiration for ‘Just Madara’ from somewhere then,” you replied easily, ignoring the urge in your gut to look away from him. By no means were you afraid of him, but he did slightly intimidate you at times, though for reasons unrelated to his rank or kekkei genkai. “And you don’t have a reason to put me in a genjutsu.”

“You broke into my home,” he replied.

You raised an eyebrow. “The door was unlocked and Izuna told me just come in last night when we’d made the plans.”

A short silence rose, punctuated by a distant roll of thunder, and then Madara spoke again.

“You’re not afraid at all of my Sharingan, are you?” he asked.

You frowned slightly. You’d never held his eye contact for this long before, especially not while his Sharingan were activated, but you could read no threat in his expression, only feel the weight of some unspoken significance between you.

“I’m not afraid of the man they belong to,” you softly corrected him.

Both of Madara’s eyebrows rose and his head righted just slightly. “You’re not afraid of me?”

You loosed a breathy laugh. “If I was ever your enemy again, then I very much would be, because now I know the man beyond Mangekyō no Madara, the Uchiha Warlord, and…” you chewed your lip again, “and I wouldn’t want to have to fight him.”

Madara’s gaze shifted over your face, tracing over your eyes, then down the side of your cheek, across mouth and then up over your nose and back to your eyes again, like he was memorizing face.

“I wouldn’t want to fight you either,” he finally replied.

You chuckled. “I’d be like a warm-up, and you’d kill me within ten minutes – we’re on two different levels of abilities.”

He lowered his propped arm so that his arms crossed on the table, and the way that he stared at you sobered the lighthearted humor in you.

“I wouldn’t raise a hand nor weapon against you,” he said.

You blinked, momentarily blindsided by the raw honesty in his voice.

“I suppose that makes sense, since we’re comrades now,” you said slowly, heartbeat somehow sluggish now in your chest.

Madara tilted his head at you. “Among other things.”

“‘Among other things’?” You parroted, your brow furrowing as you sat upright.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’d let just anyone see me in my nightclothes?”

Your lips parted and you glanced at his chest again despite your better judgement, and then jerked your line of sight away, toward the wall, though you could see the smirk on Madara’s face in your periphery.

“Hashirama?” you offered weakly, staring pointedly at the garden again.

He gave you a flat look. “Exempting the deified tree idiot from you and Izuna.”

You and Izuna.

If there was one thing that you knew foremost before any other thing about Madara Uchiha it was that his most treasured possession was his love for his brother, followed closely by his friendship with Hashirama and the responsibility he took seriously as the leader of his clan. Three pillars of his personality that you’d come to be familiar with very early on once coming to the village that had provided the foundation for the understanding of him.

He’d said, you and Izuna – what did that mean?

Your gaze slid back to him again.

“So, you’d of put more clothes on if I wasn’t the one breaking in, then?” you asked, trying to joke but lacking the tease in your voice.

One of Madara’s eyebrows rose. “With the way you’ve been stealing looks at me all morning, I thought you quite liked seeing me in little clothing.”

Your eyes widened and you felt your face burn as you ducked your head. This man – when had he become so…so–

Kami – this was not how you expected your morning to go.

“I –”

You shut your mouth as soon as you noticed the smile on Madara’s face, amusement clear in his expression. Yet another expression that you weren’t accustomed to, not without the standard pretense of him fulfilling some kind of social expectation of himself in meetings and village celebrations – and you liked it. That air of serenity seemed to only thicken around him as he smiled at you, his eyebrow rising again when you both realized you were staring at him.

Awkwardly, you cleared your throat. “I wasn’t looking at your chest,” you lied, “I – um…” Madara rested his chin against his knuckles again, expression expectant. You faltered, indignant. “You’re enjoying this.”

Tobirama had always compared the Uchiha to cats, but you couldn’t help but find more similarities between Madara and a tanuki right now.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Madara replied, the lilt of his tone making it clear that he knew exactly what it was you were talking about.

You cut the clan leader a look. “Madara-sama, has anyone ever told you before that you’re terribly overconfident?”

You saw him try to suppress a smirk before he replied, “Now, now, (Y/N), don’t you think if you’re going to insult me, you should at least drop the honorific so I know you’re only teasing?”

You bit into your cheek to stop yourself from smiling back at him as you said, “It’s not teasing if it’s true, Madara-sama.”

He raised his eyebrow again. “So you are trying to insult a clan leader, (Y/N)?” he asked, shifting his knuckles over his mouth in a weak attempt to hide his smirk.

You sniffed. “It’s said that the truth sometimes hurts, Madara-sama.”

He chuckled. “You know, I could order you to not address me with that honorific.”

You gave him another look. “I don’t have to listen to your orders, Madara-sama – you’re not the jōnin commander nor am I an Uchiha.”

He regarded you for a moment. “But I could make you one.”

You felt the blood drain from your face and your lips parted in shock –

Madara snorted and laughed at your expense, shaking his head. “That was teasing, (Y/N),” he chuckled.

Like a whiplash, your felt your face heat from sickening embarrassment, and you looked away from him, having to grit your teeth in the attempt to not scowl. Something in you felt wounded and annoyed with your own self for having fallen so easily into bantering with him that you’d entertained the idea of his teasing as being more than just that.

He was still chuckling at your reaction when you cleared your throat and made to stand.

“Since your brother isn’t here,” you spoke neutrally, “I’ll be leaving now, Uchiha-sama.” You saw his brow furrow in your periphery, but you ignored his expression as you unfolded your legs and shifted your balance.

“Eager to have Izuna make you an Uchiha then?” Madara asked as you began to cross the sitting room, back toward the door. You scoffed quietly at his question, irritation not only with yourself and your own foolishness growing, but also toward him, for pressing the wound.

You muttered under your breath and reached for your boots, but your hand was blocked in the same breath that Madara appeared in front of you, a surge of chakra from his shunshin the only warning you’d had to retract your arm.

“What did you say?” he questioned, tone flat and not unlike the voice he took in council meetings.

“Nothing, Uchiha-sama,” you said, making to move around him, but he blocked your path again with his body, making you bite your tongue to keep from forgoing your boots entirely and shunshinning onto the path outside the Uchiha Compound.

“Why are you calling me that?” he demanded, blocking you again when you tried to go around his left.

You clenched your jaw. “I’m not calling you anything, Uchiha-sama.”

The muscle in his jaw feathered, a telltale sign of his short patience. “I told you to drop the honorific, not tack on formalities.”

You let your eyes meet his again, trying to keep your expression flat and combined embarrassment and irritation concealed. “You’re a clan leader, Uchiha-sama,” you replied in a mechanical voice. “I shouldn’t insult you with less.”

His Sharingan gaze narrowed, not quite pinning you to the spot but making you wholly aware of him and just how close he stood to you, hardly more than an arm’s length between your chests.

“What did you say when you turned your back to me?” he demanded again.

“It’s of little importance, Uchiha-sama,” you answered, stare unwavering.

You went to step around him again, but his hand lashed and caught your wrist, making you instaneously stiffen.

“You are afraid of me,” Madara said, grip firm as he glanced between your rigid arm and your face.

You suddenly wanted, for all the world, Izuna to come back from wherever he’d gone, if only to rescue you from this conversation.

“Not for the reasons you think, Uchiha-sama,” you answered sharply, staring ahead at the door until Madara yanked you closer to him, filling your line of sight with his face.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden proximity, but he didn’t grant you the opportunity to react before he asked again, “What did you say when you turned your back to me?”

This close to his face, you could see each of the long lashes that framed his Sharingan eyes, and the light smattering of tiny scars near his temple. This close, and the world narrowed down to a singular point in the shape of him as he filled your senses, drowning out the rain, the house, and all else. Your orbit finally brought you to the star itself.

You exhaled a slow breath through your nose and then let the tension bleed from your shoulders, out of your arms, and held his gaze as you replied, just loud enough to be heard, “I said, ‘Wrong brother.’”

Silence crept in through the house again as you stared at each other, his grip unwavering on your wrist that he’d tucked into his chest when he’d pulled you into him. Your hand was curled into a fist, but you could feel the warmth of his skin against your closed fingers, and beyond that –

His heart was racing.

The realization made your eyes drop from his to his chest, your brows pulling together as his fingers seemed to curl tighter around your wrist before they relaxed and his grip spread over your hand, pushing your palm flat over his chest, your fingers beneath the fabric of his robe.

“Why do you say my name with the honorific?” Madara asked again, his fingers slotted over yours, the scars on your knuckles making disjointed patterns with his.

You blinked, looking back up at him. “Because it means something else to me without it.”

He never looked away from you, not as he raised his other hand to the side of your face, touching his fingertips to your cheek.

“Say my name,” he said softly.

Your brow furrowed, just slightly, as his thumb touched the edge of your mouth, and you spoke softly, “Madara.”

You felt his heartbeat fasten beneath your hand, and then yours might as well of matched it when he slid his thumb beneath your chin and raised your face, and then –

Madara was kissing you.

You sucked in a sharp breath, but shock hardly lasted more than a moment as he slanted his mouth against yours, cradling your face with both his hands as your hands found a grip on his robe. Over and over, he kissed you, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue before one of your hands climbed up to his neck, fingers carding through the dark hair at his nape, and a soft noise like a grunt left him as he shifted closer to you. His kisses were consuming, all-encompassing and this was gravity, you realized, the effect of coming too close to a star and meeting it in a collision, the inevitable destruction of what was once two separate things and the formation of something else – something new and created in the combination of debris. This was a calamity, and you welcomed it, fully and completely, giving entirely into the forces that predetermined this gravitational impact.

A sharp whistle suddenly sounded from the central garden, and you sprang back from Madara as Izuna leapt down from one of the red maple trees onto the porch with all his usual flourish, damp from the rain but smirking all the same. “I must say, there’s nothing seeing my beloved brother finally kissing my dear friend to make my morning more interesting.”

You blinked as Madara scowled, one of your hands now tangled with his, though he stood slightly behind you.

“‘Finally?’” you questioned.

“Oh yes – finally,” Izuna snorted.

“Always purposeful with your timing, aren’t you, otōto?” Madara drawled, languidly. His posture had changed, but you could see a flush of pink over his face and neck, unconcealed by his tone.

Izuna made a show of sitting down on the porch and yanking off his boots, the smirk never leaving his face as he did so.

“Of course, aniki – I couldn’t risk leaving you unattended for very long, you know,” he replied airily. “Who knows what you two would’ve gotten up to if I hadn’t come back from that random errand you sent me on when I did.”

You cocked your head suspiciously at Madara. “You sent Izuna on an errand this morning?”

Izuna called from the porch, “Only after he found out you were supposed to be meeting me here.”

“Izuna,” Madara warned.

Izuna, the only heir to the mighty Uchiha Clan, stuck his tongue out at his brother as he crossed the room in bare feet. “Now that you’ve gotten a few good kisses in on my best friend, I think it’s fair time to embarrass you thoroughly.” He came up next to you, propping his arm on your shoulder as he asked you, “Don’t you think?”

“Izuna, I will demote you,” Madara warned again, glare cutting.

Izuna brightened, “Oh! I’m to be an uncle already?”

You jammed your elbow into Izuna’s ribs with little thought, cheeks burning with heat as you glared at your best friend and wholly ignored Madara’s startled expression.

“Traitor,” Izuna wheezed, holding his side with one hand and bending over with his opposite hand on your shoulder for balance.

“Me a traitor?” you demanded, rounding on the younger Uchiha. “You – you –!” You couldn’t stop the breath of laughter that escaped you, cutting off your tirade. You could see Madara smiling at you in his periphery, amusement clear on his face along with something like relief. “You’re impossible, Izuna,” you finally said, shaking your head.

“You’re the one kissing my brother!” Izuna puffed back, throwing his hand out at Madara, who had crossed his arms over his chest and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the heir. “And here I thought one morning of your sheer awkwardness and his hate of being interrupted over breakfast would cancel out and I’d finally be relieved of hearing the blind pining you two do after each other constantly!”

Your face felt like it was burning – blind pining you two do after each other constantly.

Madara made faux work of picking at his index finger with his thumb, giving Izuna a look out of the corner of his eye. “You forget that I invite (Y/N)’s company whenever possible, otōto.”

And wasn’t that true – how many gatherings and meetings had you attended over the years where you eventually found yourself somehow at Madara’s side? You’d lost count. And now this morning, where he’d invited you to sit at the table with him, despite the early hour and him being hardly dressed.

Do you think I’d let just anyone see me in my nightclothes?

“Oh, excuse me, aniki,” Izuna rolled his eyes, a smirk growing along his lips, “I must’ve forgotten sometime between last year and this morning.”

You blinked. “Last year?”

“Oh, this obsession with you didn’t happen overnight, (Y/N)-chan,” Izuna cooed, and absolutely grinning at Madara’s scathing glare and your shocked expression. “My dear aniki decided to fall in love with you the moment you verbally filleted that Shimura heir over the dinner at Midsummer last year. What was it you said, Madara? Something like –”

“Izuna, I will banish you from the compound,” Madara ground out, wholly ignoring your widening eyes.

Fall in love?

It was only propriety that kept your jaw from dropping – Madara was in love with you?

Izuna waved him off, continuing, “You said, ‘She’s going to be my wife.’” A lick of flame darted towards Izuna’s pants, but he leapt back, snickering as he did. “Aniki! No need to get so heated! Save that for your future wife!”

“Izuna!” Madara shouted, while you bit down on your bottom lip, face hot and trying to not laugh as Izuna darted away.

“I’m going – I’m going! I can see that you need privacy!” he snickered, winking at you as he dodged another well-aimed katon jutsu spiraling for his face and then vanished into one of the hallways of the house.

A beat of silence, and then you couldn’t help the small laugh that left you. Madara’s attention immediately snapped back toward you, and he was still scowling, but when you laughed again, he gauged your expression with a guarded look.

“Somehow, I don’t think you planned on telling me this morning that you wanted to marry me,” you said neutrally, though still internally reeling from what Izuna had said.

She’s going to be my wife.

That was not just a simple thing to say, especially from a clan leader.

Madara crossed his arms over his chest, still looking irritated, though you knew it was more or less directed toward his brother. “No, not this morning,” he replied, jaw clenching like he was reluctant to give up more of his intentions than he’d expected to.

You stepped closer to him, watching him watch you back, Sharingan eyes fixed on your face. His arms slackened as you came close enough to touch a hand to the side of his face, as bold as you dared, and you felt his hands settle lightly over your hips. You leaned into him, holding again to the front of his robe with one hand as the other hand slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing his face closer to yours as you struggled to not outright grin at him, though his eyes flicked between your smile and your eyes. At your waist, his fingers tightened their grip, his focus never once leaving you as he tilted his head, and you whispered against his lips, “Tell me you love me this morning then.”

This close, you could see your reddened reflection in his Sharingan, and saw the last of his irritation toward his brother melt away as he raised a hand to your face, brushing his fingers over your cheek.

“I love you,” he said, hardly more than a breath against your lips.

You smiled, heart racing, and pressed your forehead against his. “I love you too.”

He pressed his lips to yours again, and you could feel him smiling even as he kissed you, one of his hands sliding to the small of your back and pulling you closer as the other one folded itself over yours on his chest. Again, he became the center of everything, all else fading as you lost yourself in him.

Though, you startled when Izuna suddenly shouted through the house, “I would like a niece to spoil first!”

None of Madara’s kisses could silence the laughter that burst from you.

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Headcanons for madara with a s/o ? Like relationship headcanons ? What type of person would he be attracted to ? That kinda stuff ...

Hello there, anon, thank you for the ask! 💜

What type of person would he be attracted to?

I think I'll answer this one first, because I feel like knowing what kind of person he would find attractive is important for answering your first two questions.

I've seen several debates on what kind of person Madara would like. I've seen people who say he would have loved someone strong and imposing and I've seen people who like the idea of a submissive s/o. I both agree and disagree with both of these opinions (but please, no hate towards people who believe in either of these headcanons).

As we saw, Madara certainly values power, and therefore it's easy and quite logical to assume he would enjoy a strong and not easily scared s/o. Especially, if we look at the times he was born in, strength and power seemed like the only thing that could guarantee survival. People in Warring States Period (WSP) had to be strong to survive, and this would go for Madara's s/o as well.

So, looking at it from this point of view, I believe it's true Madara's s/o would have to be quite strong and perhaps in some ways dominant.

On the other hand, I believe Madara might have found liking even in someone quiet, someone who looks very kind and gentle from the very first glance. There is strength in silence, kindness, and gentleness too.

Overall, I would say Madara would be attracted to someone who supplements him, who inspires him, someone who challenges him to become better. Someone with whom he can move forward, someone who will support him, believe in him, believe in his plans, someone who will be the heart of his goals. His s/o would also have to be at least a little persistent, I think, because I headcanon that Madara is very private individual who doesn't let people close easily.

Appearance-wise, I don't think Madara would have special demands or expectations for his s/o, I feel like to him appearance doesn't matter as much as personality does. If, however, we're taking the time he lived in into consideration, I would say he would prefer someone with a slim figure, not someone corpulent – as again, that lowers chances of survival for both for him and his s/o. (Please, I don't have anything against people with corpulent body type, I'm simply theorizing based on what we know about WSP.)

Headcanons for madara with a s/o ? Like relationship headcanons ?

Madara would be devoted to his s/o, he would love them through good and bad. I imagine that for Madara it would be important that both he and his s/o would equally be working on making their relationship successful and long-lasting.

He would show his love for his s/o not through words, but actions; by protecting them, being there for them, allowing them to see his "weaknesses", to see deep down into his "gut". And he would expect the same level of honesty and trust from them.

If his s/o would be a shinobi, he would enjoy sparring and training with them, if they wouldn't be shinobi, he might still train them at least basic ways of protecting themselves.

I would also imagine, Madara would love to share his hobbies with his s/o, so perhaps he would teach them falconry.

I also think that with his s/o, Madara would be able to show his softer side, he would show his kindness, understanding, and undying love.

From the fanfictions I found of his character, he seems to be described as a very possessive person. In a way, he might be "possessive" of his s/o – many people feel jealousy because of their lovers for example, so why wouldn't Madara, but I firmly believe he would never force his s/o into anything and would always prioritize their well-being above his own and would have respected their choices. If Madara settles down with someone, it's because he trusts them, and therefore I think he wouldn't be going around beating up other people just because they dared to glance at his s/o. Like I said above, I think he would truly, genuinely love his s/o

Lastly, to me, Madara seems like a character who hates being stagnant and who wants to grow as a person (at least before he lost Izuna), so I imagine he would share his dreams and his goals with his s/o. He would plan for a future and he would want to work together with his s/o to achieve the future they envisioned.

So...these are my headcanons, anon! I hope my answer satisfied you because I certainly enjoyed writing this! Thank you again for your ask!

Alucard NSFW ABC's (A all the way to Z.)

My Darlings let us start, right out of the starting block with...(Wrote this about 4 years ago. I Really need to update for my Draga Meu's out there!)

⚠️Warnings: (NSFW) safe word, aftercare, biting and marking up, forplay, coitus, cursing and you get the idea! Originally blogged as two separate posts)

Min🚫rs D🚫 N🚫t Interact‼️

A-aftercare

•♡ Alucard is huge into aftercare. It stems from him being a political prisoner of Sultan Mehemed II. He loves you and wants you to come back and maybe play rougher next time.

•need body massaged due to sore muscles?

You got it without asking.

•need a soothing bath?

Ask and he will run a hot bath in an old fashioned clawfoot tub. His tub accommodates his height. As you soak he will hum softly in Romanian.

•His Baby girl gets the best.

B-butt ass naked

•♡You better be a nudist or you will have permanent red cheeks. You decide which ones I mean...

C-claiming and marking

•♡Vampire King × Oral fetish= Black and Blue all over.

• Nipping, sucking not just blood and nails.

•Where:

the curve of your hips.

Biting your ass.

Large dark marks all over your neck.

~Right under your jaw is his favorite visible.

•Not visible? TPA

Tits

Pussy/ inner thigh area

Ass

•Better have a great safe word in place. Did I mention a nonverbal safe word too Baby girl?

D-Dracula

•♡Love some old fashion Alucard?

Drac it is.

•You just need to tell him London or Romania and he takes that form. For you, they are not random or meaningless. Dracula in London on Wednesday and for crazy ass Fridays, Viovode Vlad in the flesh and blood.

E-ecstasy

•♡Alucard will refuse to cum just so he can see your body twitching in pseudo death thralls from the ecstasy he can bring. Your back arching off the mattress, straight legs kicking with curled toes and your arms holding on to him strongly.

•Never had an orgasm from only your breasts being touched? Now you will.

•You didn't know you had an A-spot besides a G-spot before him.

•Don't know what the le petite Mort is?

If anyone can get you to that illusive orgasmic state, it's Alucard.

F-Foreplay

•♡At his age he is well aware that women and their bodies need some warming up to do. You're not hot, wet and ready all the time.

•His heightened hearing, he hears every whimper, moan and crying out of his name.

•fingers, hands and mouth roamed all over your body. He knows every sensitive spot and even some you didn't realize before!

•This man knows how you tick Baby Girl!

G-gentleman

•♡Alucard knows his crazy antics, sexual innuendos and maniacal laughing can stress you out. He also knows he gets carried away terrorizing just about anything or anyone.

• Except to you, only playful but it still can be downright irritating.

•When the time calls for it, Vampire King will be a perfect romance novel gentlemen.

H-hot and cold

•♡Although temperature doesn't affect him, he is fully aware when it comes to you, Little one.

•Need another blanket or coat? You get it almost instantly.

•He knows how long to apply ice or warm objects that need heated to drive you crazy in bed. You never thought you could get so turned on just by hot and cold items.

I-Inventive in sex

•♡This beast of a vampiric man comes up with damnest things that are you are sure won't work. You even tell him that sometimes. He just tilts his head and flashes his fangs to show he's amused about making it happen.

J is for just right

•Alucard knows just how much you can take physically and mentally when he fucks you hard into the bed.

•There's a safe word and safe word gesture, for nonverbal but Alucard never lets it get to that point with you.

•He just simply knows his Little one's limits and respects them.

K is for killer body

•you could worship his whole pale body, with your hands, night and day.

•Your fingers have to trace his V-line, Everytime.

•He lets a soft chuckle out every time you whine about him leaving, even to get a blood packet.

M is for moans and more

•want to dry him crazy in bed?

Moan Baby girl, moan away you hear!

•embarrassed?

You won't be for long. Alucard loves to be noisy in bed.

•rumbling growls that can be felt.

•groaning and grunting out his enjoyment.

•soft vampiric purring when settled and relaxed with you in his strong, pale arms.

He never lets you know how much Sir Hellsing complains about the noise. Besides he can be the loudest at times..

N is for neck and nipples

•Alucard being All Father, in some way all vampires are related to, loves to bite and nip with his mouth. The spot up on your inner thigh has a scar with a wild story. You still get embarrassed when he hints at it.

•males are males and you just need to let Alucard fondle, suck and nip your breasts.

•He also loves it when you do some biting and nipping back of your own.

•Tug his bottom lip or earlobe?

Oh fucking ya Baby girl!

•Love bites?

Yes and please even if they only last a second or two.

•The sounds he makes when you suck and play with his nipples.

O is for oral sex

Alucard will go down on you any time and all the time unless you tell him No.

•He's addicted to your taste and scent. Especially your scent because your body produces a lusty one that is caused by him alone.

•not a fan of giving oral sex?

He honors it and doesn't pester or whine like a little spoiled boy, for not cock sucking him.

•If you do love giving him head, don't forget about his large but sensitive balls. Fondle or lick his ball sac and he might just arch his back for you.

P is for pussy

•tongue, fingers or cock in that perfect, tight pussy of his Baby girl

•he's crazy about hearing the smacking sound of his balls bouncing against you.

•then the squelching sound of how wet you are for him. Dripping slick down his shaft and balls.

•at the unbelievably long, thick vampire tongue that licks you clean.

Q is for Queen

•Alucard may be Vampire King but he's nothing without his Queen.

•He treats you like a Queen too. Your needs always come first before his, in the bedroom.

R is for rough sex

•Alucard is all about it being rough. Giving and receiving it.

•more vanilla with a swirl?

Mild hair pulling

Dragging fingernails

Gentle nips

•Remember it's all about you, in his mind.

S is for seduction and submission

•Alucard is almost desperate on the spot when you try to seduce him.

•As for submission?

He is the king of Dominus Rex as a Dom. Though for him surprisingly, he always slips to gentle Dom with lots of praise.

•The Unholy King verbally tells you constantly how beautiful you are and how fortunate he is that you came along into his life.

•Want to be thrown for a loop?

He's the one being the submissive for a change. Right him hard and fast like he's a Romanian black stallion.

T is for time

•Alucard understands about waiting patiently. He doesn't want to but for you he will

•Your period is heavy and bad?

He'll spend the time trying to try and help through it.

•Not in the mood?

Plenty of nonsexual things to pass the time. You snuggled to his chest as he read your favorite book.

U is for underneath

•Alucard loves to sometimes lay on top of you while making love.

He settles his body weight. He places his long arms under armpits then holds your shoulders. It's possessive but comforting. His body is like a weighted blanket. You feel completely at his mercy and mercy is how he is with you in this state.

•Shadow King will put you on top whenever you want or feel the need to ride him.

•The sight of you fucking him makes him ultra-senisitive.

~The bounce of your breasts.

~Your hips raising and lowering on his rock hard dick.

~His thumb stroking that swollen clit of yours.

V is for visual

•♡Alucard had a need for visuals when going to battle. So now his eyes go to you and your fucking sexy body, Little One.

•Fucking you in front of a full length mirror has him about feral. His dirty talk is particularly crude and descriptive.

• You both cum together.

W is for wet and wild

•♡It's all about messy fluids.

•Him filling you until there a small tummy bulge

•You cumming on his face of course.

•And the first time you soaked his balls squirting from too many orgasms.

X is for possible X-ray eyes

•Alucard seems to have x-ray vision when it comes to you. Sometimes when you're busy and he has a particularly painful hard on, he becomes a voyeur of you. He starts out with long, languid strokes then grips himself harder and faster.

• Poor Walter gets stuck cleaning up, not you.

Y is for yes more please

•When Alucard was first known as Voivode (Prince/Count) Vlad Dracula, his libedo was high to begin with.

•Now he is an insatiable Vampire King when it comes to fucking you senseless.

•Oh yes please more hugs, kisses and holding each other. The Prince of Wallachia has only known how touch starved he really is. He sleeps like a baby with you next to him.

Z is for zealot

•Baby girl you are his new religion and he's a devoted zealot.

•His touching your body, is him reading you like a holy book.

•Your voice is his muse sometimes and other times his beautiful înger mic (little angel) that fights by his side.

•He would wage a war if anything happened to you.

Alternative v-z

V is for Vaginal

•Unholy King enjoys most Types of sexual release from various methods but..

•There is nothing like slowly sinking into your wet V and having sleepy morning/time sex (well depending on his resting period and your sleep pattern).

•He's the most gentle and relaxed. Alucard can be pretty intense out of bed or in bed..

W is for Wet

•All Father prides himself on making you a sopping wet mess before he is even seriously performing foreplay.

•Of course it embarrasses you but he wants you ready for his thick veiny cock and slip sliding is extremely important.

X is for X-ray vision

•You swear he can see through walls at all the times he's surprised dressing or undressing (even better timing he thinks)

•Alucard doesn't see through walls he just goes intangible and 'phases' through Hellsing walls, ceilings and floors to to spy on babe

Y is for Yummy

•You just smell delicious whether blood or wet juices. The two legged undead cat loves to lick you clean after you.

•Especially when his is mixed with yours.

Z for zippers

•Alucard enjoys unzipping just about anything that will reveal bare flesh and soft skin.

•And the ass hat doesn't use his shadows for this. It's that damn unseen telekinesis skill..

Rating Alucards Cuz Why Not

Hellsing Ultimate Alucard: 40/10. Beautiful animation for a beautiful man. Traumatic backstory and covers up depression with confidence. Overall gorgeous.

Gonzo Alucard: 50/10. The strangest mix of ugly and hot. Goblin rat man, overall funky little man and the reason I fell in love with this character.

Vladcard: 60/10. Could go from staking nazis to giving headpats in a matter of seconds. Would bury my face in his tits. Overall teddy bear king.

Straight Jacket Alucard: 55/10. Feral and murderous as fuck. Honestly a little concerning how attractive I find him. Overall would let him rip my head off or fuck me into oblivion.

Girlycard: 30/10. Honestly, she looks a bit young for me? But like, she’s still Alucard, so overall ????????

Riocard: 75/10. FUCK 👏 YES 👏 THAT’S SOME GOOD SHIT RIGHT THERE!!!! Admittedly does look like Ozzy Osbourne if he didn’t fry his brain on drugs back in the day, but that’s not such a bad thing. Overall would suck him off on the airplane

It's just a troll but they got the outrage they were fishing for from me at least 🤯🤬

Omg my heart!

Madara and child

Amazing art! Would have loved to see Madara as a sensei!

Sketches from Madara as Team 7 Sensei AU by Delicate Memento

Translated by me and reposted with permission. Please do not modify or repost elsewhere without permission of the artist. If you want to ask for permission to colour, etc, but don’t speak Chinese, I’d be happy to be a go-between. (Reblogs are welcome!)