She Is Young And She Falls Into Traps But - Tumblr Posts

Vampbert 7 sexy angst 🙏

A/N: Hi Anon! Sorry this took so long! I know its not exactly "sexy" but this became part one of a two-part fic. Your sexy is coming!

Part two will fulfill your request @joiedecombat💜

Gilbert x f!reader; vampire AU. The first fic that sets everything up is here, but if you don't have time for a 4k AU, just know Gil is a vampire and he sired the reader (at her insistence) and there were some sexy shenanigans and feels and such.

TW: violence, blood

German words: Graf: Count; Neuling: Newcomer, Newbie; Himmelsgard: the name of his castle

WC: 1635

He told you that you were not ready for the dark forest. You were still too new to vampirism, too untested for the dangers that its deep shadows hide. Graf Gilbert von Obsidian is your sire and you should have listened. 

But you did not. From the moment you woke in his opulent bed, born anew, you felt stronger than you ever had before. Power coursed through your body alongside something new and sharp: Hunger. Not just hunger for blood, but the hunger a restless predator feels when it hasn’t gone hunting in a while. A tension in your body. A gnashing to your teeth. You wanted to join him next time he went out.

His eye had flashed red fire as he commanded you, Neuling, to stay in the castle before turning on the heel of his leather boot and wave of his black cape, leaving you in your stone bedroom, the anger in your heart flickering like the flames of the wall sconces. 

You did not listen. Driven by a need to prove him wrong, you waited until the bright harvest moon had risen high in the Stygian sky before you had changed, arming yourself, and slipped out into the freedom of the cold, clear autumn night.

Gilbert is nowhere to be seen but still you tread silently until you have left the walls of Himmelsgard and are safely weaving your way through the black bodies of the trees, your new enhanced sense of smell leading you somewhere blood has recently been spilled. 

The scent takes you to a circular clearing in the forest. The grass is gilded silver by the wash of moonlight spilling into the small open area. You pause, leaning against the rough trunk of a tree, listening. All is still. 

You take it as a sign that you are safe. 

An experienced hunter would have recognized it as a warning. 

You step into the clearing, hoping to get a better grasp of where the faint scent of blood is coming from. A few steps to the north. A turn. A few steps to the east…..and then your steps grow still.

Now you hear it.

Growling, low and deep, rolling across the open space like a primordial harbinger of doom.

Every single nerve in your body is a wick suddenly aflame. The hair on your arms stands up as you slowly turn in a circle, sweeping your gaze over the dark line of the forest.

Something is there.....

You barely have time to reach for the short sword at your waist before something comes barrelling out of the dark woods, something easily twice your size, with fangs that gleam in the bright moonlight. Instinct takes over and you dive, rolling out of the way. The creature roars as it spins, claws tearing up the grass, looking for you. Here, in the clearing, there is nowhere to hide. You could try to run for the treeline, but somewhere deep in your gut, you know that it is faster. It would leap and you would be nothing but splintered bone and ragged flesh. Thanks to the harvest moon, there are no shadows to warp from. Your only option is to stay and fight.

Your heart slams its fists against the prison of your breastbone as you spring up to your feet, sword raised in front of you, its tip trembling. 

You have a moment to take it in and horror drains the color from your skin. The creature looks like some kind of werewolf, but instead of two forearms, it has four and its claws are much longer, curved, scythe-like things that it swings in your direction.

“Vile creature, be gone!” you hiss, bearing your own fangs. It growls angrily as if it understands you and charges. With a grunt, you manage to throw yourself out of the way again, but not before feeling the swish of air as its claws nearly have you. It whirls, jaws snapping and you scream as the razor-sharp fangs catch your hand, slicing through your leather glove and opening a burning cut across your palm.

The beast throws back its sinewy throat and howls, a sound that curdles your blood, its eyes glowing a fearsome, bilious yellow.

It gnashes its white teeth, claws ripping apart the earth as it gets ready to charge you again but before you can react, a blur of black and white flies across your field of vision and the beast howls in rage.

A man has thrown himself at the animal and is now attacking, a slender silver rapier drawn, deceptively delicate, fending off blow after blow from its fearsome claws.

Not just any man.....

Gilbert.

Despite his smaller stature, he is as imposing as the creature, a sharp smile on his lips as he dances in a circle, his sword meeting every swipe of the animal's claws. He moves with a fluidity and grace that steals your breath. His age also makes him far, far stronger than you.

"What can I do?!" you call out once you have stopped staring, dumbstruck.

“I’d suggest you make use of that weapon you’re carrying!” His voice is controlled, but you hear the strain in its undercurrents.

Your slack fingers remember their duty, gripping your sword. You watch Gilbert snarl at the beast, lips curled back, fangs bared, and you remind yourself…..you too are Vampire. You too are the beast that rules the night. 

With a shout, you charge the creature from behind and leap, driving your sword into the back of its neck. It roars, a sound that echoes through the darkness like a fog horn across the black sea.

Gilbert, now given a reprieve from defending himself, growls as he drives his own sword into the monster’s throat, blood spraying across his white skin, rubine droplets of victory.

The beast whimpers in pain and fear, baring its teeth in one last act of fury, but it is too late. It falls like a giant tree felled, landing with a heavy thud on the blood-soaked grass, a final exhale leaving its broken body before it goes still, the furious light in its yellow eyes dimming.

Gilbert turns, running a hand over his dark hair, his breath coming in heavy pants.

"Are you alright?"

He is moving toward you and you don’t trust your legs not to buckle if you step back.

He sees your face and his anger at your disobedience is set aside for the moment as he pulls you into his arms. You sink against him, allowing yourself to be weak, to grab hold of his shoulders and pretend for a moment that you didn’t brush shoulders with true Death. 

His strong hand rubs your back, right between your shoulder blades and you find yourself breathing a bit easier. His touch, his familiar scent, they comfort you. And then he leans down, his lips close enough to your ear that you feel the warmth of his breath when he whispers, “If not for me, you would be a bloody smear across this clearing.” His hand, which was so comforting just a moment before, has stilled and is now keeping you from leaning away. “You will return to the castle. I will deal with you when I return.”

His words bite, their sting as deep as the cut across your palm. They brook no argument. He releases you from his embrace and you turn, cheeks burning with shame and anger, your steps heavy as you head for the treeline.

“Shadow warp. It is faster.”

Gone is the man who held you in his arms, cool lips trailing lines of fire across your skin as he readied you for the moment you would lose your humanity. The one who had wondered in a voice hoarse with hunger what spell you had cast over him. Not once since your transformation has he touched you but you've seen the path his eye traces across your body, the lines of your face, the curve of your mouth. He remembers what you taste like. And you know he wants more. He must. Because in the dim hours before sleep claims you, you are haunted by that night in the garden of black roses.

One hand in your hair, the other a vice around your waist, Gilbert finally puts his mouth to your neck. His tongue traces the path of your jugular, his lips pausing to nip small, electric bites in preparation. And then you hear his hiss as he extends his fangs. You feel the sudden sting as he sinks them into you. Pain blossoms, fiery and sudden, and your body instinctively jolts, wanting to escape. But he holds you tight, his embrace iron-clad, and he drinks.

He drinks in your essence, drop by warm drop, and as he does, discomfort subsides and transforms. Gilbert is an alchemist, leaden pain mutating into golden flames of pleasure. You tremble in his arms as it fills you, this breathtaking feeling, like an exploding sun inside your veins. Stars are born and die, their light illuminating the backs of your eyelids. The world outside of this does not exist. There is only Gilbert and bliss and the burning desire for this to never end.

You frown, shaken out of your memory as you watch him place a heavy boot on the creature’s neck, leaning down to withdraw your sword.

“What are you going to do now?”

He glances up at you. Blinks.

“Go. home.” The words are cold as the distant stars scattered across the sky.

You would retort with something snarky but he saved your life and you are in pain, both your hand and your heart aching in tandem. The discussion will have to wait until later. You step into the shadows and make your way home.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @ariamichel @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @scorchieart @gilbertvonobsidian