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anncanta · 3 years

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Veduta of Venice

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Zoe Van Helsing, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Zoe Van Helsing, Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Explicit

Veduta (Italian veduta - seen, view, picture, point of view) is a genre of Western European painting and graphics, especially popular in Venice of the 18th century.

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @ravenathantum @flutteringphalanges @ladyhaley28 @dragatha @khyruma

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The hotel was damp and cold, but the view was magnificent. Rising from the chair, Zoe wrapped herself tighter in a wide woolen scarf and went out onto a tiny balcony made of openwork stone.

As far as the eye could see, there was water ahead – pinkish, blue, green. Zoe had never seen so much water before. The water has never been so close. Leaning over the balcony railing, Zoe stared down at the low waves intersecting at odd angles.

Such a strange city. When she bought a tour at the agency, she was offered a choice – Verona or Venice. Zoe rejected Verona at once. And she looked at the glamorous, deliberately beautiful photos of Venice for a long time as if looking for something – either a crack in the ideal porcelain world captured on the image or ugly everyday flaws. In the end, she decided – she has nothing to lose.

The flight never seemed to end. The large iron bird seemed to hang in the sky forever, spreading its immovable wings and holding the half-asleep Zoe either in its paws or in a steel silver beak. When, to her surprise, the bird let her go, Zoe still had to get from mainland Italy deep into the archipelago. So she arrived at the hotel completely exhausted.

She burst into a spacious room that smelled of rain and prickly nights, dropped her suitcase on the floor, and stretched out on an obscenely wide bed.

And when she woke up, the sun, mother-of-pearl gray skies, and water looked out of her windows.

Zoe wasn't going to take a vacation. She worked hard and monotonously, with stubborn, dull dedication, unlike many of her workaholic colleagues – not for the sake of her own reputation and career, and not at all for show. The fact is that there was really nothing more in her life.

Zoe didn’t realize it right away. She just worked, day after day, not even always overtime. Like everyone else, she played bowling on Thursdays and had fun in pubs on Fridays. But when her friends and colleagues hurried home to their families at the end of a stormy evening Zoe, starting her old Renault, every time fought the temptation to return to the laboratory.

This went on for a long time. Months. Years. Until one day, on the eve of her fortieth birthday, Zoe realized that the desire to go back to work after a party with friends was her only temptation.

For some reason, this understanding frightened her so much that the next morning she was already sitting in the office of the head of the medical research center in which she worked, with an application for a vacation, and a week later – on a plane on her way to Italy.

Zoe straightened and looked at the bright scarlet sun sinking into the bay. Self-pity is not the best feeling to approach the second half of your life, she thought. Well, in general, she had nothing to feel sorry for herself. She was lonely – but she always had more or less enough of her own company, with the rare addition of a friend or two to chat with over the weekend. She did not have an impressive career – although many of her colleagues at the center, who discussed at tea the young doctor, who had managed to make several breakthrough discoveries by the age of thirty-five, could argue with this. Success in science is an unpopular success. Nothing to brag about. Zoe chuckled out of the corner of her mouth. And she had absolutely no idea what to do next, and for that matter – why all this was needed.

On the other hand, why not?

Would she have died of some kind of blood cancer, she would have made a sort of a romantic heroine, Zoe thought irritably as she closed the balcony.

At the foot of the building, somewhere far, far away, muddy water was rustling and foaming.

***

Zoe bought a complete tour, which included a full package of services, so she did not choose a hotel. Maybe if she did, she would spend time looking for something more comfortable and not so boring, she mused as she walked down to the restaurant for lunch. During the week and a half that Zoe spent here, nothing happened in the hotel that could conditionally pass for entertainment. Don't consider the other guests as such, she chuckled mentally. On the stairs and in the corridors, there were mostly gloomy gray-haired couples and girls of dubious appearance. Sometimes a jazz band played in the lobby in the evenings.

There wasn`t a soul to be seen in the bright and quiet hall – except for a tall man in black, sitting in the far corner at the piano. Leaning over the keyboard, the man absentmindedly fingered the keys, pulling out the notes one at a time. Zoe smiled at the metaphor that crossed her mind and turned around and headed there instead of the restaurant.

In the niche in which the piano was hidden, only one small lamp burned, giving a soft yellow-orange light. Falling obliquely on the keyboard and the lid, it snatched out of the half-light a man's back and shoulder, tightened in a classic black suit, the outlines of the profile and hands with large fingers.

Approaching, Zoe leaned on the piano and for a while, just stood listening to the music. Now, being near, she could finally understand what was wrong with this music – the stranger played skillfully and cleanly, but the melody, its very fabric, seemed... vulnerable and fragile as if the pianist was painfully remembering it or composing it on the go. Zoe watched as his hands gently touch the keys as if asking about something – and finding no answer.

‘You haven't played for a long time,’ she said softly.

‘Very long,’ he raised his head. For a moment, his face – beautiful, pale, with dark eyes and well-defined lips – remained relaxed. Then he brushed aside a straight strand of black hair that had fallen on his forehead and looked at Zoe. And then a strange expression appeared in his gaze – bewildered, amazed... looking. This happens with those who have met someone whom they have long lost hope of seeing. Zoe could bet that he was about to say something, but at the last moment, he resisted. He turned away again and continued to play.

‘My… teacher was pretty good,’ an ironic note slipped through his low voice, ‘but I'm afraid I’m lacking in practice. What do you think?’ The stranger again raised his eyes to Zoe.

‘I like your manner,’ she said carefully. ‘Have you just arrived?’ she asked for some unknown reason.

‘Yes, yesterday,’ said the man. ‘Always wanted to go to Venice,’ he added slowly. ‘To this... city of dreams.’

Zoe smiled involuntarily. Looking at his hands, which were still on the keyboard, she suddenly imagined with amazing clarity how fingers stroking the keys touch her skin. Imagined how they touch her neck, shoulders, pass along the shoulder blades, move to the waist, barely noticeable, but confidently increasing the pressure. Turning away, Zoe blinked.

The momentary rush of embarrassment, however, disappeared as quickly as it had arisen. What are you here for, Zoe, she asked herself. Not to sit in the room in the evenings with a glass of Tokaj and picture suffering, are you? Take a look at this piece of masculine beauty and make the most of what he promises. If he promises, of course.

‘ – at dinner tonight?’ Zoe woke up and looked at her interlocutor. Judging by his look, he was perfectly aware of what she was thinking and did not seem to mind. ‘If I understood correctly, there will be dances after dinner.’

Zoe nodded.

‘It's always like this here on Fridays. If you're looking for entertainment, there is hardly a better case,’ she said, looking him in the eye. ‘The season has just ended.’

The man silently shook his head.

‘I’ll come,’ he answered, standing up. He bowed graciously, intending to leave, and suddenly turned around. ‘What is your name?’

Again this strange seeking expression, a poignant mixture of despair and hope. And mockery – not at her, at himself.

‘Zoe Van Helsing,’ she said. Amazement flashed in his dark eyes but then disappeared.

‘Count Dracula,’ he said, shaking her outstretched hand. ‘See you at dinner, Zoe Van Helsing.’

***

For the upcoming evening, Zoe prepared carefully. After scrapping several spectacularly low-cut dresses, she settled on blue jeans and a light blue blouse. ‘If he is a real Count,’ her pride chuckled, ‘you will hardly be able to surprise him.’ Well, she didn't intend to.

‘I want to have a good time,’ Zoe muttered, glancing at herself in the mirror of an antique carved dressing table. She washed off the mascara from her eyelashes, which she diligently dyed five minutes ago, then, after short thinking, wiped a thin layer of lipstick from her lips. Zoe used makeup a little and only on special occasions, but it was not a lack of habit or awkwardness that made her get rid of it now. She could not explain to herself why, but she was sure that the best choice for meeting the Count was naturalness.

The hotel restaurant was unusually full: probably dancing inspired not only her, moving to one of the few free tables – at the exit to the terrace – Zoe thought. Sitting at the table and ordering a glass of Chianti, she turned her face to the light wind blowing from the ajar doors.

The bay shone in shades of blue, pink, and dove. Small waves broke up, catching the lighted lanterns. Zoe heard how music was born and tried its power in the hall. The wind became a little cooler. The waiter brought her Chianti.

She could have sat like that all evening, Zoe thought after the third or fifth sip. The music became louder and a little braver. Zoe decided that she might need more wine.

‘You promised me a dance.’

‘When did I?’ Zoe turned around.

Pause.

‘One hundred twenty-three years ago.’

She chuckled.

‘What a precision. And what a tactlessness!’

‘I beg your pardon?’

He was dressed in the same classic black suit as when they first met, and just like when they first met, she wanted this suit off him immediately. Zoe nodded to his questioning glance in the direction of the chair opposite and said, putting down her glass:

‘You just hinted at my age?’

‘No way,’ Dracula responded with mock horror. His eyes flashed with a mixture of irony and melancholy. ‘Never mind, this is... a personal joke.’

The orchestra fell silent behind them. One by one, the instruments stopped playing, as if they were disappearing into the shadows, yielding to the only remaining violin.

Zoe finished her wine. She felt like crying. Determination and frivolity vanished, and anger with herself remained.

‘I –’ she began, but Dracula interrupted her.

‘You promised me a dance.’

She watched him get up and walk over to her. Taking his hand, she rose and allowed him to lead her to a small dance floor in the opposite corner. She saw him making a sign to the musicians, heard the first chords sounded, then he pulled her to him and velvetly ran his hand along her back.

Everything floated somewhere: Venice, the damp smell of canals, a shade of raw plaster, which seemed to cover everything and everyone in this city, a draft coming from everywhere; pink-blue sky. Closed, sharply defined lips and dark, demanding eyes.

Music came from somewhere with dry clicks, crumbling on them beat by beat and measuring their steps. Piano – thunderstorm, monotonous rain, wet asphalt, water on San Marco. Pigeons flutter out from under her feet. Fractional flashes of droplets gather in puddles, a violin steps carefully over them, creeps in, displaces other sounds, and again remains alone. Freezes, kissing her forehead. And everything freezes with it.

...They took the elevator for ages. Squeezing his hand, Zoe watched the numbers change on the scoreboard on the wall. When the number three finally lit upon it, it seemed to her: a little more, and she simply could not stand it. They got to the room, and holding the key card to the door, she was surprised – it does not open until it dawned on her: not her suit. The door opened, closed behind her. Zoe leaned back on it, lifted her head.

Dracula leaned over to her and took her face in his hands. Zoe stood silently, motionless. Closing her eyes, she held her breath, feeling the touch of his lips, then – the tongue. Snuggling up to him, she grabbed him by the neck. He ran his hands over her body, finding, squeezed the nipples through the fabric. He pulled her blouse from the belt and ducked under it with his palm. Exactly how she fantasized... a long time ago... yes, this... afternoon. Twitching impatiently, Zoe swung her hips, her jeans button digging into his stomach. He pulled away, turning her, pressed her to the door again, tore off the button, zipper, and put his hand into her panties. Zoe buried her forehead against the door with a groan. His fingers caressed her harshly and roughly, without ceremony, tormenting her, not allowing her to escape. Zoe finished, breathing out a soundless scream.

Grasping her from behind, Dracula waited until she calmed down, turned her around, ran his fingers over her cheeks, erasing the lines of tears. He pulled her into the room, along with him, to the bed.

Lying on her back, Zoe listened to the disturbed world rebuilding within her body. She smiled at Dracula, who had time to put his clothes somewhere and bent over her. Now his touch was gentle, fleetingly teasing as if he was asking for forgiveness for the recent explosion. Zoe lifted herself up and slid into his arms – and gasped as he rolled onto his back, swapping them.

Zoe loved sex and found partners easily. Many of them were passionate and skillful. But she never really wanted to be on top. She shifted in embarrassment. She wasn't even sure she understood how...

She did not have time to think out the thought: grabbing her by the waist, Dracula slowly lowered her onto himself. And it was so good and... accurately, that Zoe bit her lip with acute pleasure. Dracula waited a couple more moments, lifted her, froze. Zoe frowned in bewilderment. He smiled and moved his hips. Once, twice. The third – slower, then faster, and in the same order – again. Arching, she trembled – and when his fingers found her clitoris, everything became unimportant, there were only moans and sighs in the darkness.

…

‘Would you like some coffee?’ Zoe asked. Dracula, hugging her with both arms and absentmindedly running his fingers over her stomach, shook his head.

‘I don’t drink... coffee,’ he replied, and there was distant anxiety in his voice. Zoe nodded nonchalantly as she climbed out of bed, wrapped her dressing gown, and walked over to the table.

‘It's cold,’ she said, looking into the coffee pot. Well, the coffee was brought in yesterday. She turned to Dracula, who was sitting on the bed. He was disheveled and looked at her in a strange way. ‘I'll order a new one.’ Stepping to the balcony, Zoe opened the glass door and breathed in the morning air.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dracula get up and approach her.

The sky was still gray, but somewhere in the distance birds were already awakening. Zoe turned to Dracula – and froze, bumping into a sharp, focused gaze.

He stood naked in front of her, and there was something very familiar about it – not because of last night, but different.

‘Sorry.’

He grabbed her with lightning speed, so that she did not have time to recoil or cry out, hugged her again – and something happened.

Zoe felt herself trembling and swaying, slipping and falling into an unknown direction. Everything blurred, and before her eyes flashed pictures – an iron grate, a torch thrown to the ground, the smell of burnt wool, a nun's dress, and blood. Swaying, salty air, captain at the helm, shouts, shadows on the deck, and another fire. An explosion, the smell of fresh gunpowder tickling her nostrils, a man's face distorted by rage bending over her.

Agatha recoiled, gasping for air, and finally screamed when she realized what he was doing.

‘Agatha, it`s over!’ Reality fell on her and struck from all sides at once, stunning. ‘That's all, Agatha!’ Dracula hugged her, holding her. She struggled, trembling, bursting into sobs. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated when she was exhausted and quieted down. ‘Sorry, I had to make sure.’

He let her go, and she, moving away, climbed onto the bed, huddled like a wounded animal. She wrapped herself tighter in her dressing gown, which miraculously still remained on her. She leaned back on the pillow and cried softly. Dracula silently sat down on the other side of the bed.

‘You survived,’ Agatha said without looking at him.

‘I did,’ said Dracula. ‘I just slept for a hundred and twenty years. Then I woke up and saw around... all this. But I liked it, you know.’

Agatha didn't answer. She didn't want details. She wanted to close her eyes and not open them for another hundred years.

‘How many have you eaten?’ she said dismissively.

‘Agatha, you worked at the research medical center,’ Dracula's voice sounded annoyed. ‘Do you know who the donors are? These are special people who donate blood, eggs, and sperm.’ He paused. ‘And there is Tinder, besides.’

Agatha felt her head begin to throb heavily.

‘How is this possible?’ she asked hoarsely. Turning, she looked at Dracula. Dracula didn't answer. ‘It’s the twenty-seventh of October two thousand and twenty,’ Agatha said with an effort. ‘I ate toast for breakfast. My blood type is the first negative. I don't like grapes and I love bananas. Last year I went to Islamabad. I remember the life of Zoe Van Helsing!’ she shouted; her voice rang out again.

Dracula was silent, and somehow that silence helped calm the storm that was raging inside her. Agatha looked around the room, looked at the bed, and at Dracula. She breathed in without a sound. Her body was still agitated, still keenly aware of what they were doing together. How could she do this – with him?

‘You remember the life of Zoe Van Helsing because you were her,’ she heard Dracula's voice. Agatha looked at him incredulously. ‘Her life was real. From the very first day. And at the same time, from the very first day, it was you.’

Getting up, Agatha walked to the balcony and leaned against the glass of the door. She frowned at Dracula.

‘It is believed that reincarnation,’ he said, ‘is always a new personality. In rebirth, a person begins a completely different life. And in most cases, apparently, it is. But it happens... it happens very rarely that the former personality turns out to be so strong that it displaces or does not let the new one in, and a conflict arises between them. I heard about this maybe two hundred years ago from some Arab doctor.

Agatha listened in silence.

‘The problem is,’ Dracula continued, ‘that two consciousnesses cannot get along in one human body. Such a split cannot last forever.’ He made a pause. ‘Have you ever been diagnosed with... what is it called now... cancer?’

‘Some years ago. I was in the hospital. Suspicion of leukemia,’ Agatha said in surprise. ‘Not confirmed. Zoe... I've seen the tests. But Z... I'm not an oncologist. I figured it was just a mistake. Someone confused the tubes.’

Dracula stared at her wordlessly.

‘Now, yes, that's a mistake,’ he said and stood up. In the split second after his words, something changed in his face and gaze, and in the room. Standing in place, Agatha watched him approach, stretches out his hands to her, opens her dressing gown. Already when he is very close, holding her between himself and the glass, raises her hips, and enters, she remembers that he is still naked.

Looking into her eyes, he pushes into her body, hard, rough, and deep. She has nowhere to go, not to hide, she should be disgusted and ashamed, she should be hurt, in the end, but she only moans and, shuddering, leans back.

The despair in his movements melts, smears out, he gets out of her, carries her to the bed. He enters again, leaning on his hands, continues, at the only point in contact with her. Agatha cums from this alone, and sweet spasms are still poured in her – while he lets her go, while he searches for his things, finds them, while dresses and, buttoned-up, walks to the door.

Agatha is unable to move, she feels at the same time heavy and light, but her thoughts and feelings are more clear than ever. She turns and holds out her hand.

‘Don't go.’

#dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #bbc dracula #count dracula #zoe van helsing #agatha van helsing #dragatha #fanfiction

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flutteringphalanges · 3 years

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Summary: “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Well it’s been several months! Hope you guys haven’t forgotten about this little fic! I won’t keep you waiting too long! I highly suggest you read the second author’s note which can be located at the end of the chapter on either FFN or AO3 if you have any questions! With that said, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Huge thanks to @mitsukatsu for always letting me bounce ideas off of her! Thanks, girl! Hope ya’ll enjoy! -Jen

Chapter Thirteen

Though the sky was shrouded in near darkness, the full moon peaked through just enough to illuminate the scattered clouds that blanketed the night. It was eerie to say the least and even Agatha, despite what she now was, stuck close to Dracula as they made their way down an off-beaten path towards the small village. If her still heart could, it would be beating with such ferocity that her very chest would've felt the crushing blow of each throb.

"You're awfully quiet." Her mate commented, offering his hand as they stepped over a log. "You have nothing to fear. It is quite a simple process and I assure you that I would not allow any harm to come to you."

"That's not what I'm afraid of you." Agatha said quietly. "I am not worried about my sake."

"Then what?" The Count inquired, stopping them both in their tracks. "This isn't about your moral standards is it, Agatha? We've discussed this on numerous occasions. I only wish what is best for you. I think in time you will see that. How much, I cannot promise, but it will get easier." He smiled gently and tilted her chin to press his lips to hers. "Come," he urged. "Let us not wait. Time seemingly moves much faster than one would presume."

Part of her wanted to say something. Outright deny any participation in this immoral act. But perhaps it was her selfish love for him that even made her consider the possibility. Why was romance so damn desirable? Holding her in a vice grip where eternity with her former enemy was a far more pleasant option than being without? Was this love sickness? Could he feel the same way? That only made it worse. The former nun sighed, trying to clear her head of such thoughts. So much had happened in these past few months. Her skull hurt and she wasn't quite sure if it was due to her fall or just the strain of it all.

"Ah! We're here!" The excitement in Dracula's voice pulled the former nun from her thoughts. She looked to the vampire, his teeth glinting in what little moonlight shone from the clouds. "It's right outside the city of Brașov, secluded enough that we shouldn't be bothered." He reached down and gave her hand a squeeze. "Fear not," he murmured. "I will be right by your side guiding you the entire time." Though his words offered little relief.

The village was nothing special, far from appeasing to the eye. It was small, perhaps used at most for those passing through or people making just enough to get by. Agatha absentmindedly dug her nails into the palm of her hand, feeling their newly found strength press indents into the skin. Dracula was speaking to her, but his words sounded so distant as she took in her surroundings. As a greater part of her wanted to turn back and return to the castle, an unexpected sight captured her immediate attention.

"No, please! I'm begging you! Leave me be!"

From the entrance of an alleyway, a woman stumbled backwards, her hands outstretched as if in some poor attempt to protect herself. Agatha stepped forward instinctively, but found her mate's arm outstretched in front preventing her from going forward.

"Wait." He said quietly. "Allow this to play out."

Agatha threw him a look of horror about to protest when a stranger strode out from the shadows something glinting in his hand. Without warning, the figure slashed the object at the woman's neck causing a gurgling choke of surprise to escape past her lips. Something sweet filled the air. The scent was more alluring than any blossom the former nun could remember smelling. Blood. Fresh blood. Human blood.

Whizzing, the lady collapsed on the ground, too weak to ward off the man as he began to dig through what little satchel she carried. Finally snapping from her trance, Agatha looked in horror at the sight before her. At the intense feelings that bombarded her mind after witnessing what she had just seen. How both her former and immortal sides were battling against her sanity.

Agatha's eyes remained locked on the man's as he stood unmoved just meters from her. With her new found abilities, even in the nearly moonless night, she could make out the thick, crimson liquid as he dripped down the shimmering blade. It was almost teasing. Watching it fall to the ground below where it became soiled by dirt.

"What are you waiting for?" A voice coaxed softly from behind, its excitement barely masked. "Go, I'll follow."

Yet Agatha's attention was not drawn to Dracula. Instead, her gaze briefly flickered to the figure lying nearly lifeless off to the robber's side. The woman's hands wearily grasped at the deep slash drawn across her throat as her life blood gushed between her fingers. An easier prey, she knew, but not one of good consciousness. If the former nun was to kill, then there had to be a reason.

"Two for the price of one." She heard Dracula say from behind. "The girl is merely a mercy kill."

They had different ideas about compassion, and the younger vampire's attention redirected once more to the man. The soon to be murderer. If it could, her blood would be boiling. A strange emotion began to fill her. Almost primal in nature. Her smooth teeth began to shift as she took a step forward towards the thief.

"Stay-stay back!" The man warned, swinging his knife shakily between Dracula's and Agatha's direction. "I'm warning you!"

But Agatha's ears no longer heard the desperate, empty threats. Nor did she feel the anticipation of her mate by her side. Instead, she lunged forward and knocked the man to the floor. Predator finally becoming prey.

Fangs cut through soft flesh like a spoon through room temperature butter. Instantly a flood of hot, sweet liquid coated her tongue and flowed down her throat in deep, hungry gulps. Agatha wasn't sure what she had been expecting. As a child, she'd once fallen and bitten straight through her bottom lip. Through the pain, the blood had tasted salty. Unpleasant. But now, here where she feasted, it was like honey straight from the comb. This wasn't the putrid taste from animal gore. No. No, this was far, far delectable.

"Agatha."

A hand clamped down on her shoulder but Agatha ignored it, choosing instead to keep suckling away at whatever remained of her victim. The grip, though gentle, tightened slightly causing an unanticipated low grumble to escape from deep within the former nun's throat. Finally, she sat up, blood dripping unceremoniously down her chin. She blinked, slightly confused for a moment as she began to take in her surroundings once more. Dracula smiled fondly at her, an almost proud sort of expression. Agatha blinked again and, looking from the dead man to her lover, quickly wiped away at her chin in slight embarrassment.

"I must admit I am quite impressed." The Count mused, admiring her handy work. "You took to it much better than I had anticipated." He ran a hand through her hair, his dark eyes flickering away from the body. "Now might I interest you in some dessert?"

The blood that bubbled around the entry wound on the woman's neck was already blackening with clots when Agatha arose to her feet. With great care, the younger vampire made her way over, careful not to step on the crumpled body. The lady gazed up at her with grey, uncertain eyes, each breath more raspier than the prior. Perhaps she didn't see the act Agatha had just committed, or was too out of it to even fully absorb what had occurred.

"Scared…" It was about all Agatha could clearly make out. "Please…"

Ignoring what Dracula could possibly be thinking, his Bride gingerly sat on the ground and cradled the woman like one does a babe. Her skin was grey, cold as what little blood left stuck to Agatha like a paste. A waste, she knew, but her own needs were none of her current concerns. She held the woman close, as best as one could for both being around the same height.

"There is nothing to fear." The former nun said softly, her eyes locked onto the woman's. "Soon there will be no pain. No horror. Be at peace with your Savior. Go now with God."

Her pulse stopped and Agatha watched the woman's chest rise and fall one more time before all with still. Gently, she closed both eyelids, covering the irises that reflected the moonlight like glass. She turned her head to see Dracula watching her, his expression hard to read. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she lowered the woman back down onto the ground and rose to her feet.

"She didn't deserve to die like that." Agatha finally said, not turning to meet the vampire's gaze. "No matter what you say, I made the right call."

The Count exhaled. "I take it you know your way enough to start walking back towards the direction of the castle?" Agatha merely nodded and Dracula cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose then I'll clean up for tonight. We can make that a lesson for another day." He smiled, trying to lighten the tension. "You did well, Agatha. Give yourself some credit. We'll have to celebrate amongst ourselves."

Dracula kissed her cheek and Agatha forced a small smile. She tried not to look at the two bodies as her mate gave her hand a small squeeze. Though she physically hadn't felt this great in a long while, the repercussions of what she had done had struck her hard.

Honestly, she quite yearned for the vampire's company as she followed the trail that led back to their home. Right now, the idea of being alone wasn't all that pleasant. Then again, crushing the chest of a human to prevent it from turning was far less appealing. So she went by memory, trying to push past what she had done until the castle was in sight.

"Foolish, foolish…" She thought to herself, the brush and stone crunching under her feet. "Just let it slip away. If there is some higher power that thinks I have done some good enough to deserve the least bit of mercy, allow me to forget for a few precious moments."

A humorless chuckle escaped from between her lips. At least Dracula hadn't called her out on her biblical speech. That had taken her by some surprise. But as a nun, the dying always seemed calmed by the idea that God awaited for them with open arms and complete, forgiving nature. She hadn't quite understood that. Then again, she hadn't quite understood much of that the more she considered it.

A pair of arms wound themselves around her waist just as Agatha reached the top of a hill. Dracula pressed his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled. She could smell the heavy scent of blood on him, though it was far from pleasant. Corpse blood never did have the same effect she was beginning to pick up.

"You walk too terribly slow." He murmured against her skin. "If I were a fox and you were a rabbit, you'd be dead."

"Always lovely with your analogies." Agatha snorted, rolling her eyes. "And we both know I'm too wise to be a rabbit." She paused, hesitation in her voice. "Is it done?"

"As I've said before," Dracula turned the former nun so that she now faced him. "You are my true bride. I have no intention to turn others." Her eyes narrowed, pressing him for a better form of confirmation. "Yes. You have nothing to worry about." The Count exclaimed, admiring her in the moonlight. "Have I told you how ravishing you look tonight?"

Forget. Forget. Agatha gazed up into his dark eyes, taking in the lust and excitement that they held. She could taste the thief lingering on her tongue. Feel the dried blood from the innocent woman against her skin and on her clothes. Forget. Forget. She wanted to block it out. And here stood Dracula. Completely unaware, far too focused on what he thought was right. Was okay. In that moment, she needed him to help her forget. Wanted him to make her forget.

"Then show me." She whispered, his eyebrow quirked in surprise as she moved his arms to the straps of her dress. "You tell me I'm exquisite, but words have no meaning over actions." Agatha locked eyes with him. "Take me here. Right now."

Dracula's lips curled into a smile. "I did not realize how much tonight meant to you."

A blur of emotions. A tidal wave of feelings. Agatha bit her lower lip, glancing once at the night sky before back at her lover. They still had time. A few hours before dawn. They'd make it back. She just needed to be distracted. If just for a little while. Forget.

Agatha forced her second smile of the night. "Then let me show you."

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #BBC Dracula #Dracula x Agatha #Bad Moon Rising

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my-fanfic-library · 4 years

Text

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [7]

Masterlist

~^*^~

Looking down, Dracula noticed how his hands easily covered most skin on the exposed thigh straddled over him. Warmth radiated from the skin, and although pleasant, he knew for a fact he’d felt better with another’s.

Her fingers trailed from the back of his neck, down to his chest and rested there for a moment. She was so close. Her heart did not race. She was comfortable with him - too comfortable - and he didn’t know why. The way she seemed to invite such dangers, such recklessness that would easily induce her fatality intoxicated him. Her dismissal of her mortality fascinated him.

Slowly, wanting to cause a shiver to run down her spine, he let his hands trail up to her waist. She smirked, clearly enjoying his attention. He looked up at her, locking eyes.

“What would you like to dream about tonight?” He asked, allowing his hand to run over her neck. She had not bothered to cover up, his mark evident on her skin.

“I don’t know...” she mused, voice low, “you pick.”

It was evident to the Count that she was trying to be seductive. But to him, she was trying too hard. Women like this, women who threw their sense of self and pride away like this, were never good news. The woman currently on his lap proved that. No, Dracula preferred something a little more muted. An insult to him here or there, a no-bullshit attitude, a fierce front and a willingness to be close to him. Sister Agatha had fit this mould very well. He had enjoyed her company.

He looked at the woman he was currently occupying. He was mildly disgusted by her, if he was being honest. She would make a very good bride. Her attributes would make her one of the best if he erected his plan correctly.

And by God, did he want to construct and carry out a perfect plan. A perfect bride.

Repopulation had been so difficult for him. He had tried and failed and tried and failed again. It would not work. But then again, nobody had willingly given themselves to him like this. She was the perfect specimen for this next trial. But that was the only way in which she was perfect.

“How about...” he smirked a little, pretending to think, “a little dream about [First].”

He halted her movements and the enjoyment in her eyes wavered before fading out. Her mouth dropped a little. Her shock become evident within a second.

“[First]?” Her voice was laced with that same shock, “[First] [Last]?”

“The very one.” He smirked.

“How do you know her?” The tinge of jealousy that came through in her voice made Dracula chuckle.

“Let’s just say that she’s a colleague.” He spoke with ease.

“I didn’t realise you knew her... how long...?”

“Quite a few months now, she really is a special person, isn’t she?”

“And you chose to stay here... with me...? Instead of with her?”

“It would seem so, yes.” It was so easy for him to feign a subtle shynes. Just a little smile and a small drop of the head. She was immediately smitten once more.

“Again... it happened again... she really must be dull.” She whispered, mostly to herself.

At those words, Dracula had to hold back the noise of sheer anger bubbling up to the surface. In his eyes, there was nothing worse than a person like Lucy Westenra. Conceited, vain, without care for another. Now, Dracula could not say that he truly cared for most himself. Why, that would be an absurd lie when he would easy devour any person who gave him a second of a chance to. But to be a creature that could still fathom compassion and to ignore that... now, that was something he didn’t like. He was using this girl, it was too easy to.

He said no more to her, opting to expose the mark on her neck. Lucy smiled. The anticipation of the dream that awaited her grew in her chest. When Dracula bit down, a familiar heat spread throughout her body. It scorched her veins, but she did not care. Her eyes fluttered and she entered that sweet dream.

~^*^~

With Dracula’s absence, you had found yourself growing closer once more to Jack Seward. He had been the only friend you had been able to count on before you fled to Yorkshire those years ago.

Currently, you had decided to show Jack one of your more favoured places. It was a small bay, not too far from Whitby, with a stunning little town and steep hills. Robin Hood’s Bay. This had been your place of solace whilst living here, and after two months of growing closer to the male you had once been so friendly with, you chose to share this secret place with him.

Sitting on the rock armour that spread along the bottom of the cliffs, you both looked out to sea. You spent quite a while in silence, enjoying each other’s company.

“I was really glad to see you again, [First].” Jack suddenly piped up.

“Hm.” Was your only reply.

“You know... the stuff with Lucy... and Daniel...”

“It wasn’t your fault Jack, you didn’t know. I was angry with you but I think that’s because you chose to stay friends with her.” You turned to smile at him, wind catching a few hairs in your eyelashes.

Jack said nothing, but reached over and tenderly brushed away the hairs. His warm fingers caressed your face as he did so. A warmth spread over your cheeks.

“Even so... I still felt bad. I mean, it made you move so far away from us all.”

“I couldn’t stay there. There was no need to feel bad. Lucy was the catalyst.”

“Still... I missed you, [First].”

You spent a few hours together, wandering up and down the beach before deciding to walk back to Whitby. Although it was a good hour back to the town, you enjoyed the company, looking out to sea and reminiscing about old times. By the time you arrived back to Whitby, the sun had set and darkness blanketed the world once more.

Jack offered to buy you a drink, just to finish the day off nicely. You agreed, leading him to Bar 7. It was already quite full by the time you got in. So, in order to keep Jack by your side, you gently took his wrist and lead him towards the bar. He had no issues with letting you lead him, and was quite surprised at how natural contact between the two of your felt.

Music was playing loudly, but not loud enough to distort the words you spoke to each other as you enjoyed your drinks. Outside, the world was tucking in for the night. The windows left little to the imagination on what was going on inside of the bar, and one figure was leaning against the metal railing of the harbour, watching with patience.

Another hour passed, along with two more drinks when you both decided to call it a night. Jack offered to walk you home, and you accepted on the condition that you could call an Uber to pick him up. Although he denied, you decided to let him walk you home. It had grown quite cold, and upon noticing your shivering, he took off his jacket and draped it around your shoulders.

“Oh, you don’t need to-“

“I’ve got long sleeves on anyway, it’s fine.” He smiled again you.

“Thank you.” You whispered. There was a moment of silence, “today was nice.”

“It was...” his voice trailed off, “it was nice to spend time with you again. I’m glad you’re doing better.” You hummed.

“Me too.”

“You’re still cold aren’t you?” He looked over at you. Even though you were walking, you were visibly shivering.

“Just a little.” You chuckled.

“Here.”

Without warning, he moved closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to bring you close. His warmth radiated onto you and you hummed, allowing your head to drop onto his shoulder. Behind you, Jack heard a noise. It sounded a little bit like a growl of a dog, and turned his head. Nothing.

Strange.

The rest of the walk was quick and soon you found yourself standing on your doorstep watching Jack disappear. You shut the door once he was out of sight and sighed. It had been a good day. It felt like no time had passed between you and Jack, but given how close you once had been, ten years could have passed and it would have felt the same.

Eyes watched as Jack began his walk back across the viaduct. It would be too easy to have him. His body would be too easy to throw over into the river, but a splash that loud would certainly alert people.

Just as you slumped down on your sofa to take your shoes off, your door knocked. Had Jack forgotten something...? You made your way to the door and pulled it open.

“Good evening Miss [Last], it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The shock that coursed your veins was almost enough to induce you to pass out. Standing there with a picnic basket in hand, grinning from ear to ear was your vampire acquaintance that you never expected to see again.

Your heart was racing. It had been so long since you last saw him, since you last became drowned in his scent, in him. And here he was, grinning at you like he’d never even left in the first place.

“Shocked to see me, darling?”

“Dracula...?” You whispered. You were afraid to move, afraid to anything. What if he disappeared if you spoke too loudly or moved too quickly?

“How endearing. Come, I have something for you.”

He extended his arm out to you and you felt obliged to take it. A familiar and oddly comforting coolness took ahold of you when your hand slipped into his and you let him lead you out of your house and towards the soft, plush grass of the river bank. You watched as he took his hand from your own and pulled a soft blanket from the basket first, setting it down on the grass so that you could sit without worry of staining your clothes.

Once again, he extended his arm to you and you took it. When you were close to him, both standing on the blanket, he brought your knuckle up to his lips and pressed a tender kiss. His mouth lingered before he helped you settle down and he followed suit.

“Did you miss me much, darling?” He inquired, pulling out two glasses from the basket.

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m merely curious. Though I believe your answer would be no.”

“And how would you know that?” You eyed him.

“Well, it seemed that you had a lovely evening with the young gentleman who works with Dr. Van Helsing and yourself.”

“Jack? Were you following us?”

“I actually intended on collecting you myself, however, it seemed you had other plans.”

He did not look at you, opting to pull a few more things from the basket. First, a Tupperware box with a brown substance, then a second, full of strawberries and lastly, a bottle filled with a black liquid tinted crimson.

“I hope you don’t mind, I brought leftovers.” He grinned at you, having seemingly forgotten the edge of the tantrum he had just been on.

“No... I don’t mind...”

“I also brought you something. Do you remember one of the last conversations we had?”

“The strawberries... you remembered?” There was a softness to your voice that Dracula could not help but think that he had missed. Despite your clear knowledge of some very dark and evil things, you couldn’t help but ooze a certain degree of innocence. He loved it.

“Of course I remembered.”

You watched as he began to open the boxes. Strawberries first, followed by the chocolate that was still cooling and melted. And then, he opened his own bottle of his “takeaway” and poured himself a little.

“I would have opened your own bottle, but I think you’ve had enough for one night.” A mischevious smile pulled at his lips.

“How long were you watching?”

“Long enough.”

He didn’t dwell on his growing anger for the mortal male, and instead reached out to pluck a strawberry.

“May I?”

You nodded. Your eyes followed his fingers as they moved the strawberry to the chocolate, coating it in a thick layer of goodness. Anticipation grew as he let a little excess chocolate drip off. He leaned forwards, his eyes locked on you as your mouth opened, allowing him to near you with the treat. You bit down, a wet and slightly sensual noise emitting. An explosion hit your tongue. The freshness and the firmness of the strawberry mixed with the sweetness and the gooeyness of the chocolate causing a low moan to rumble through your throat.

It was good.

Dracula’s lips twitched into a smirk. Your blood wasn’t pounding as hard as it usually did, but it was a nice, steady beat. He wondered what it would take to make it race once more. He watched as you chewed, eyes glossing over with the satisfaction of such a delicacy.

“How was it?” He asked. His voice was low and gravelly, like he was intentionally trying to wind you further up.

“Delicious.” You breathed.

“I’m glad.”

It continued like this for a while, Dracula feeding you strawberries. He was enchanted by the way your lips spread over the fruit, catching all that you wished to eat. He enjoyed watching your eyes flutter with every bite, and hearing every noise you had to offer in enjoyment.

On one particular strawberry, he perhaps left too much chocolate on, and some of the gooey substance found itself attached to the corner of your mouth, slowly trailing down. Dracula made a small noise, placing the half eaten strawberry down and using his index finger to swipe up the chocolate. You looked at him, and that devilish smirk on his face, and then at his finger, the tip coated in chocolate.

His eyes were locked with yours when you looked back up. He was testing you. He was inviting you. And for once, you weren’t going to back down.

You kept your eyes locked with his, leaning forwards and catching the tip of his finger with your lips. He couldn’t suppress the look of surprise that flooded his features. You kept your eye contact, swirling your tongue over his cold finger, lapping up the chocolate. When you pulled away, a string of saliva kept you connected to him.

“Oh my,” Dracula cooed, “I did not expect that.”

“Yeah, well...”

“What other tricks do you have up your sleeve? I really must find out sooner or later...”

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker

#dracula #bbc dracula #netflix dracula #dracula x reader #bbc dracula x reader #netflix dracula x reader #claes bang #dolly wells

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omniishambles · 3 years

Note

HEADCANON + MINA MURRAY

SEND IN HEADCANON + A WORD / PHRASE FOR A RELEVANT HEADCANON ABOUT MY MUSE.

Dracula doesn't think all that much about Mina at first. She's just an opportunity, a threat that can be used against Jonathan to keep him in line. And even when he meets her briefly in the nunnery, he doesn't pay her much attention, too intrigued by Agatha Van Helsing and all her provocation.

It's only when he gets wheeled into the Foundation that he realises what determination she has, impressed by her attempts to contain him from beyond the grave.

In the more classic verse (or any verse where he interacts with Mina outside the nunnery) he begins to see for himself how much stronger she is than first thought, a potentially worthy opponent and a good candidate for a bride.

#hc: dracula #& mina murray

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avanhelsingz · 4 years

Photo

Agatha: "The question is, what are Dracula's limitations? So, we know three things: he cannot enter an abode without an invitation, he cannot stand in the sunlight, and he fears, above all things, the sight of the cross. But you see, we are wrong. These three things must be one thing, much tidier. God is always tidy Well, according to his own account."

Zoe: “I have cancer, I’m dying get over it, my blood is poison to him”

Van Helsing from Netflix Dracula

Independent and Selective

Memorialized by Meagz

Mun and Muse 30+

#out of certainty >>> ooc #self promo #Agatha Van Helsing #Zoe Van Helsing #Van Helsing #Netflix Dracula RP

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possiblyimbiassed · 4 years

Text

The Lost Special?

Musings over possible implications of BBC Dracula

After obsessively watching all three episodes of BBC Dracula, I can’t help feeling I’ve got one of my suspicions, if not exactly confirmed, at least enhanced: that this Victorian old story, finally adapted into present time, might in fact be relevant to Mofftiss’ version of ACD’s short story The Lost Special. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, but since I can’t deny I do like ‘tin-hatting’, for now I choose to believe it is. ;)

(Continued under the cut)

As some of you guys already have expressed, I think BBC Dracula has BBC Sherlock written all over it. I believe this was obvious already from the setup; same authors, same producers, same broadcasters, same set designer, same format, three of the same actors including one of the writers, and even the same airing slot as BBC Sherlock. The Sherlock hints are sprinkled all over the two first episodes, which occur in the same Victorian time frame as ACD’s original Sherlock Holmes stories. This for example:

But the bringing of Bram Stoker’s old narrative into present time in the third episode (The Dark Compass) kind of sealed the deal for me.

Suddenly we have Count Dracula sending text messages by smart phone to his victims:

We have Dracula vomiting on the rug of a crime scene:

We have him storing body parts in the fridge! (X)

And this fridge scene is taking place while Dracula is watching a TV program with elephants on the Savannah, exclaiming “Look at her - so beautiful!”:

Who is beautiful - the ‘Elephant in the Room’? It certainly feels like Mofftiss are stringing us along here, doesn’t it? ;)) But no; it’s the sun that Dracula admires as beautiful, we learn that in the show. The shining from the sun is a thing he thought he could never endure, but ultimately he learns that he actually can.

Same thing as Sherlock says about John Watson the distant suns in the sky in TGG:

Or about Sister Sentiment’s music in TFP:

Taking Dracula to modern time is something that the authors had expressly denied they would do. But they were lying of course, as is their usual MO. Exactly the same deception as they did with TAB, isn’t it? And as if this wouldn’t be enough, there’s a whole list of other modern Sherlock references, summarized by @gosherlocked (X).��I’m sure there’s more, we just need some more time to find them.

As I mentioned in this comment recently (X): The Lost Special (X) is a short story about a derailed, disappeared train that ACD wrote during the Great Hiatus (1898). It bears some typical Holmes-case mystery characteristics. And the anonymous person who in this story sends a letter to the train company, suggesting a way of solving the case, seems very much to be Holmes himself:

“It is one of the elementary principles of practical reasoning, that when the impossible has been eliminated the residuum, HOWEVER IMPROBABLE, must contain the truth. It is certain that the train left Kenyon Junction. It is certain that it did not reach Barton Moss. It is in the highest degree unlikely, but still possible, that it may have taken one of the seven available side lines. It is obviously impossible for a train to run where there are no rails, and, therefore, we may reduce our improbables to the three open lines, namely the Carnstock Iron Works, the Big Ben, and the Perseverance.”

(X). So this short story indeed looks like a Holmes story in disguise. But Sherlock Holmes’ name is never mentioned in The Lost Special and the storyteller is not John Watson. In this story the police did not act on this anonymous person’s advice. The truth wasn’t revealed until one of the perpetrators - a hired murderer who was threatened with execution years later - admitted that he had participated in derailing the train in question (X): “A conspiracy of men had temporarily re-attached the side track leading to the abandoned mine Heartsease just long enough for the train to go down to the mine, then pulled the tracks back up before they could be discovered.” To the broader audience, however - the Holmes readers - the character of Sherlock Holmes remained ‘dead’.

The wrapping up

One could say that The Lost Special both had and had not a satisfactory ending. Satisfactory because the truth was finally told and the mystery thus solved, but unsatisfactory because in spite of all the hints, the readers didn’t get to know anything more from Holmes. Not until years later (1903) when ACD actually did ‘resurrect’ him and continued the narrative of Sherlock Holmes with 33 more short stories.

When Dracula finally ‘dies’ at the end of the BBC Dracula series, it’s not by being ‘staked’ or burnt to ashes with the sunlight as one would expect for a ‘monster’ like him. It’s by embracing the criticism of his most resilient but dying opponent: Zoe/Agatha Van Helsing (Mofftiss call her ‘Zagatha’ in an interview). She is dying from cancer, not from vampire bites. Dracula drinks her (to him) mortal blood and then ‘dies’ in her arms, basking in the sunlight (without burning) in a tender lovers’ embrace.

Zagatha in BBC Dracula is criticizing the vampire for skulking in the shadows, being afraid of facing death. She says it will be his punishment to live on for eternity, while she is mortal and dying:

Seriously, this is so much ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer that I can’t just... But Count Dracula re-writes Bram Stoker’s original story and opts for another solution: to ‘die’ willingly in the sunlight, together with Zagatha. And if dying is a metaphor for falling in love - as I believe it is in BBC Sherlock - this might have some important implications. I think Dracula and Zagatha here represent two sides of Sherlock that are finally allowed to merge; his Sentiment and his (Homo)sexuality.

Like The Lost Special, BBC Dracula is nicely wrapped up and ‘solved’. But we still don’t really know what happened with Count Dracula, because we don’t actually see him crumble into ashes like he did in Stoker’s canon, and like the other vampire who was ‘staked’ in the show - Lucy Westenra. But the episode is packed with Sherlock references, so...

But I can’t say for the life of me that S4 of BBC Sherlock brought a satisfactory ending for the Holmes narrative either; it’s not ‘wrapped up’ at all! John and Sherlock seem to live on for eternity as ‘best friends’, solving crimes in the heteronormative ‘legends’ preferred by Ghost!Mary’s voiceover. They are simply immortal, Un-Dead for ever - like a punishment? Wouldn’t it be far more satisfying if Sherlock Holmes and John Watson’s characters would come out and appear ‘human’ and ‘mortal’ and not have to remain just ‘best friends’ forever?

The (lack of) train references

One might argue, of course, that there are no specific train references in BBC Dracula, so how could we think it has anything to do with The Lost Special? Because, like The Lost Special, BBC Dracula is a Sherlock story in disguise! And because in the BBC Sherlock narrative itself there are already several episodes with train references; the most prominent of them is TEH and the last one - TFP. So there’s really no need for more references. But the train theme isn’t explained; it’s not ‘wrapped up’ at all, and neither is Sherlock’s story. I’ve tried to argue before that the detective is actually dying in S4, and so have others (X). And making him immortal will not save his credibility as a human.

I do hope he’ll wake up again, though - preferably with help of modern medicine rather than superstition - to a more credible and realistic story than both TFP and Dracula. ;)

In TEH, apart from scenes with John Watson traveling alone through the Underground network of London, we have a derailed Underground train carriage near Sumatra road, where no-one would care to look. Like a Lost Special. It’s not carrying a bomb; the whole carriage is the bomb, which is threatening to overthrow the Parliament. Which very much makes me think that Mofftiss still have a metaphoric ‘bomb’ stored for us, a ‘rug-pull’ of sorts. But John and Sherlock (and the world) were not ready in TEH, so they switched it off. The ‘bomb’ never went off in S3 (2014). In TEH John was urging Sherlock to ”use your Mind Palace” to defuse the bomb, and I think he did - for the rest of the show up until TFP. Because in TEH, Instead of the big explosion, we got a truly weird, staged scene with Anderson (who didn’t quite believe Sherlock’s explanation anyway).

And then the plot carried on in its heteronormative tracks with John’s wedding and Mary taking over the narrative. But in TST we learned that Sherlock, as a child, had re-written an old tale about someone encountering Death in ‘Samarra’ into a story where the hero ends up in Sumatra instead, and lives. In TFP the plot derailed completely into an absurd horror story, and we got Moriarty as train driver, going “Choo-choo!” like a train whistle:

But the only 'explanation’ related to trains that we learn about Moriarty in TFP is rather lame: that Jim’s brother supposedly was a station master (not from canon, though). And then he goes “tick-tock, tick-tock” like a ticking bomb:

(Also similar to Mycroft’s ‘tick-tock’ countdown until he’ll die from obesity in TAB). But no bomb went off at that point in TFP either (I’m not counting the Patience Grenade here, because that happened before the ‘tick-tock’). So what was all that tick-tocking about? And how long will it keep ticking asdf?

The Sussex Vampire etc.

After reading some interesting metas from @yeah-oh-shit (X, X) and @ebaeschnbliah (X) I feel more and more convinced that legal issues with the ACD Estate might be very relevant for what Mofftiss are doing with BBC Sherlock and BBC Dracula. Three important ACD stories have now entered the public domain on January 1st this year: The Sussex Vampire (SUSS), The Illustrious Client (ILLU, where Holmes and Watson visit a turkish bath ;) ) and The Three Garridebs (3GAR; known for a scene where Holmes shows a glimpse of his true feelings for Watson). in SUSS there’s a quote about Sumatra which I find really interesting in the context described above:

“Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Watson,” said Holmes in a reminiscent voice. “It was a ship which is associated with the giant rat of Sumatra, a story for which the world is not yet prepared.

As I said in this comment (X), there’s a lot of subtext to draw from this. And I do hope the world is prepared now. ;)

@raggedyblue @ebaeschnbliah @gosherlocked

#bbc dracula #dracula spoilers #Dracula=TheLostSpecial?#Comparison Dracula-Sherlock

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thebeautyofdisorder · 4 years

Text

The Undone & The Divine (BBC Dracula) - Chapter 9

A/N: Hey, it wasn’t a full two weeks this time, yay. The ending got a bit poetic on me, I’m going to warn you, and I really don’t know why. But hey, it is what it is. Vampires and drama rather go hand in hand, right? Unresolved tension and vampirism lay ahead. Also a terrible pun or two.

Pairing: Dracula & Agatha/Zoe, off and on Dracula/OC

Rating: M, for blood, language, mercenaries with guns, blood drinking and hints at violence/death.

Chapters 1-2 Here - Chapter 3 Here - Chapter 4 Here - Chapter 5 Here - Chapter 6 Here - Chapter 7 Here - Chapter 8 Here

Can be found on AO3 - Right HERE - or enjoy below the cut

Tagging some new followers in case they wanna check it out. If not, don’t feel bad to ask to be removed either! And I let me know if the tags fails to work entirely? Tried copying/pasting and just re-tagging.

"You needed me, didn't you?"

Zoe quirked a skeptical brow at the Count's surface-level consideration, not buying its sincerity for a moment. But that certainly didn't mean she wouldn't take advantage of it. As wont she was to admit it, she did in fact 'need him' for once.

"Do you even know what I need you for?" She asked, curious.

"I believe I 'get the gist' - you need to compare the effects of proper sustenance to whatever muck you've concocted. And considering you're refusing to properly nourish yourself to make that comparison, then naturally I'd be the only acceptable substitute."

She nodded, a smirk tilting her mouth to one side. "What do you want?"

He blinked in what was almost mistakable for innocent confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

Zoe scoffed, smirk still in place. "Don't pretend you're going to inconvenience yourself for something you completely disapprove of and not expect anything in return," she prodded knowingly. "Out with it."

The Count mirrored her smirk, taking her in with silent consideration. He could hear the whispers from the humans around them outside of the glass, those both panicked and conspiratorial, though they made for a pleasant bit of background noise to their negotiation. He understood that was exactly what it was, after all, anytime they spoke, and he was looking forward to the challenge.

"We both want the same thing, Dr. Helsing."

"And what is that?"

"To understand ourselves and in turn, each other," he replied simply, gesturing between them. "And funnily enough, neither of us can do that alone."

"Are none of your other 'experiments' going well?" She couldn't help but ask dryly.

He quirked a smug brow at her tone, the accusation of jealousy remaining unsaid but no less audible for it.

She scoffed, looking down at the table in annoyance.

"Perhaps I'd rather wallow in my success before risking disappointment."

"Poke and prod at your success you mean?"

"In a manner of speaking," he grinned, though seeing her returning glare, as endearing as it was, he redirected his approach slightly.

"From one scientific mind to another, you know as well as I do that working together is the best way to each get the answers we're looking for."

"I told you I wouldn't help you infect all of London," Zoe persisted, though more weakly than she'd originally intended.

He gave a shrug of his left shoulder. "For all you know, you could be encouraging me not to. Depends on what our findings are, yes?"

She narrowed her eyes, though he could see Agatha's vehement disapproval radiating through Zoe's wavering will.

"Since when did you learn patience?"

Dracula's amusement wavered, accusation coloring his tone, though it was too soft to belly resentment. "Since I learned there's nothing to be impatient for."

Zoe frowned, studying him further. "You won't harm anyone here."

It wasn't a question, though unlike when Dr. Connors had demanded the same, Dracula gave a short nod of agreement, eyes never leaving hers.

They made an interesting sight, if the focused attention was anything to go by. Two dark haired creatures of the night in what appeared to anyone outside the glass to be a standoff. Their conversation had been mostly spoken in murmurs - to their ears perfectly audible, but even with the sound enhancement, from the outside practically silent. A frustrating thing, if the purple hue of Dr. Connors' face was anything to go by, as Zoe briefly observed when she finally took her eyes off the vampire to observe their onlookers.

"Fine. But I still maintain my diet, and I want to know everything you know - no secrets, no assumptions," Zoe conceded, her stubborn posture relaxing only faintly. She couldn't completely let down her guard, even around him. "And I'll offer the same."

His lips tilted. "Are you saying you have secrets now?" He asked, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"Maybe I do," she replied, her poker face in full deployment.

The Count's brows gave a playful wag as he held out his hand, large and clawed as it was, over the table that separated them in a gesture of relatively peaceful acceptance.

"We have an accord then? From one lab rat to another."

Zoe studied it for a half a moment, the hand that had been wrapped with no effort at all around her throat not long before, before finally placing her petite hand in his, immediately feeling his long fingers curling around the whole of it. She could only grasp them in turn to hold her ground, forcing the image from her mind for multiple reasons, namely his ability to peek at it.

"We do. Permitted that you behave yourself."

"Only when absolutely necessary," he assured her in only a breath above a whisper with his most charming grin.

She rolled her eyes in return, but didn't argue. That was the best she could hope for with him.

There was an audible ah-ha-hem projected into the room, and they both turned with unenthused expressions towards the persistent if still clearly terrified face of Dr. Connors. Dracula’s upper lip curled upward in a quiet snarl and Zoe gave him a side-eye which he only faintly acknowledged.

“Count Dracula will be our control, we’ll reconvene after later testing,” Zoe announced loudly, and much to her pleasant surprise, despite looking like he wanted to argue, the other doctor just gave a curt nod and quickly began to gather his things to leave. Probably to go ‘report back’, she was sure. The rest of her colleagues seemed to be joining suit just as quickly if not more so. She looked back at the vampire’s faintly amused expression only to just take note of the fact that he hadn’t let go of her hand, and quickly pulled it back from his grasp.

His lips pursed slightly, but he didn’t, much to her relief, seem inclined to rub the slip of comfortability with him in her face, at least not at the moment. Thank heaven for small mercies.

“I suppose I should leave you to your preparations before I frighten anyone else away,” Dracula mused aloud, already gesturing outward to Dr. Bloxham to open the door – he could’ve just forced it easily, but he had said he would try to ‘behave’. Destroying their elaborate, if entirely useless toy cage would certainly be frowned upon – at least until they figured out exactly how useless it was. Now that was a day he was looking forward to.

“I do that perfectly fine all by myself, thanks,” she replied wryly, gathering her things and joining him where he awaited her by the exit, so used to playing the gentlemen she wasn’t sure if he even realized how much of a default it had become as he fell into step at her side.

“Wait until I teach you how to do it properly,” he suggested with a wag of his brows.

“I suppose that’s part of your experimentation process,” she replied blandly, turning towards him as they paused just outside of the main chamber.

“Naturally. Plus, it just sounds like fun,” the Count couldn’t help but admit, a gleeful smile brightening his features. “I want to, as Agatha enjoyed putting it, see the limit of your capabilities’.”

“And apparently the limits of my patience,” she prodded back, gesturing her head towards the elevators. “You saw your way in, I expect you can see your way out. I have work to do.”

“Good night, Zoe. And do try not to poison me again,” he made a mocking gesture of praying hands that brought him far more amusement than it really should have, before she saw him turn to walk away.

She took a much heavier breath than she really needed to. What in the hell had she just agreed to?

-----

It was pitch black when the vampire found himself re-entering the bounds of London proper, drawn by the crowds of lives and the unmistakable need for sustenance. He perused his phone, skimming past a decent hoard of messages from some of his more persistent conquests – he wasn’t exactly in the mood to play to anyone else’s whims tonight, and certainly not anyone vying for immortality. Normally he was delighted to corrupt the willing human mind, but as always in the wake of facing the trademark Van Helsing defiance, he found himself craving more of a challenge. A tiresome side effect, to be sure.

There was much to be had from good, old fashioned subservience, but every once and a while he did appreciate having to make an effort. Alas, the minute anyone discovered what Dracula was, they tended to attempt to appease him. No, please, I’ll do whatever it is that you want. Don’t kill me. Or they just downright bared their throat like a sacrificial lamb. A beautiful thing to behold, but hardly satisfying. And the aftertaste of idiocy that someone trying to fight him in earnest would leave made him cringe.

No, he needed an unsuspecting meal this evening. The Count’s thumb hovered over Kat’s name in his phone, lingering there for a long moment before heaving a dramatic sigh and putting the mobile device away entirely. Unsuspecting, yes, but she was too clever to remain that way for long if he made feeding from her a regular occurrence. He wanted to save her for a… later occasion. Seeing how long he could keep up the façade of humanity with her was an amusement, while fun, he didn’t have the patience for at the present.

He took to the streets instead, perusing his options - an old evil in a new world. It was beginning to storm, but in England that hardly limited his options by much. The expectation of rain seemed to be so ingrained into the minds of the locals that it didn’t even cause most of them to speed up or pause like it would elsewhere in the world. Even in the brightest sun, it seemed to him that the common businessman would sooner be caught without an umbrella than a warrior of old be caught without his sword. Just such a man caught Dracula’s eye.

Leant up against an aging brick wall under the awning of a restaurant with his umbrella at his side, the man was utterly oblivious to other passerby, a look of stern concentration on his face directed at his mobile phone quickly melting into impatience. It gave the vampire a moment to study him in proper detail. He was perhaps just over thirty, fine of feature, but well dressed in a way that spoke of refinement without determination. His expensive suit was crumpled, his hair tousled, and he sported a rough day-old shave that looked more like indifference than ineptitude while a half-smoked cigarette hung lazily from his lips.

Clearly, this was not a man who would be difficult to lure away. In fact, his very countenance radiated someone who wanted an escape and was failing to find one. Perfection, Dracula thought as he made his way up the darkened alley that exited on the narrow walk where he stood, leaning against the opposite side of the wall.

“Someone run over your dog?” He asked in a wry, pseudo-casual way, pulling out his own phone from his coat pocket.

The man looked up, in mild surprise, brow furrowed at the older man who he swore hadn’t been there half a second before, though it only stalled him for a moment, pulling the cigarette from his mouth.

“Oh…the wait time for a car’s bloody ridiculous tonight.”

“So I am seeing,” Dracula agreed blandly, scanning his own screen with practiced annoyance.

“Fuck I want to get out of here… apologies, this really isn’t my type of 'scene'.”

The vampire chuckled, flashing him a charming smile experimentally. “The stuffy overpriced scene? Congratulations.”

The younger man returned a slightly lopsided grin, though a tad more cautiously. “Yeah, more of a business…thing.”

“If you're interested in splitting a cab, we could try the main stretch back this way,” Dracula gestured with his head, through the alley he had come through that opened up to a street on the other side with a few more lights than the one they were currently occupying. Granted if one made it through the narrow darkness.

The younger man disguised his pause of consideration with a final long drag of his cigarette, but proceeded to nod as he flicked the butt into the sewer drain just ahead of them. The vampire could see the brief trail of thoughts as they flicked through the man's eyes with practiced ease. What harm could it possibly do? Not likely to be a thief, tall but I could take him if necessary.

"Why not? Better than standing about." He agreed, plucking up his umbrella from where it leant against the wall at his side. He didn't bother to open it.

Taking a last moment to eye his phone and pocket it, Dracula allowed the younger man to begin to walk ahead of him, giving him the lead. His pulse was calm, calmer than most when joining a stranger in a dark place. He'd drank, but nothing substantial, clearly wanting to keep up appearances - not enough to thin out the blood too much or taint the flavor. Good, the vampire conceded, he truly did hate that.

"So where are you headed?" He asked after a moment, interrupting the silence, keeping the man in a comfortable state. Conversation did, after all, proceed dinner.

Whatever his answer was, the Count didn't bother to acknowledge it, already tuning his ears away from the young man's voice to the steady beat of his heart. He allowed the thrum to overtake him, fill his senses completely until even his forced breaths and his footfalls kept in time with it.

They had neared the midway point now, and the sounds of other passerby were beginning to taint the pitter-patter of rainfall that provided the counterpoint to the lively rush of blood pumping under skin. The younger man paused his slightly speedy pace to check for his packet of cigarettes, but before his fingers could separate the damp material of his jacket, there were jagged bricks at his back and a large hand encaging his throat, halting any chance of escape.

His brows rose in bewilderment as dank breath cooled his throat, but just before the first tricklings of fear and panic began to descend - the vampire struck, sharpened teeth breaking skin and the coppery aroma of blood perfumed the air.

The young man's entire body tensed, broad shoulders flexing uselessly against Dracula's iron grip and the growing wave of lethargy that slowly but surely drug him into easeful darkness. Something akin to a groan, of protest or pleasure he would never know, fell from his slackened lips into the night.

Suppressed fury, intelligence and crushing waves of obsession filled the vampire’s mouth. A search for a man with no face, a splatter of blood on porcelain, and the love of a man with dead eyes and an angel’s face.

He’d always been a sucker for the tragic ones.

----

Zoe’s head wrung with rhythm of a stranger’s heart, thumping faster and faster and then slowly, ever so slowly easing back into a distant low hum. She froze, waiting with equal parts sickening dread and impatience for the pulse to stop completely and still to deadly silence...but the moment of death never came. Once again, Dracula had left his victim to a peaceful slumber - for how long, she didn’t know. She never knew. But somewhere in the night thunder clapped, and she could feel the pang of excitement and strangely, the hollow feeling of loss that accompanied it as lighting cracked the sky soon after.

His name was Malcolm and he was dreaming peacefully of vengeance.

----

Yeah, not really sure where that came from, but I just felt like writing him being a bit predatory. Then got some good old fashioned human murder concepts in my head and well...here we are. Enjoy, lovelies. Always let me know what you think! And if anyone ever has any ideas, suggestions, etc do let me know. I’m a fickle little thing who’s easily influenced and always looking for fresh inspiration for this chaos.

Tag List: @break-free-killer-queen @mephdcosplay @charlesdances @punk-courtesan @crowley-needs-a-hug @hoefordarkness @bellamortislife @malkaviangirl @imagineandimagine @chelsfic @dracula-s-bride @my-fanfic-library @hyacinth-meadow @mymagicsuitcase @littlemessyjessi @desperatefrenchwriter @ss9slb @crazytxgradstudent @claesbang @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @gettingcrazyforlife @carydorse @dreamerkim @gatissed @alhoyin @girlonfireice @festering-queen @jangleprojet @guardianbelle @vampiregirl1797 @serindiyoza @drsherlockmoffat @allis143 @leah-halliwell92 @xis23 @angielandon @profiler-in-courage @erislilith @kandomeresbitch @enchantedfleur @lets-talk-about-claes-baby @bloodspatteredprincess @river-soul @flyingleapdisco @onyxthevampire @katwoman06

#bbc dracula #dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #dragatha #claes bang #my writing #the undone & the divine

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chrsitophwaltz · 4 years

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Bon appétit! (BBC Dracula fan fiction)

please don’t shoot me! i’m just a wee gal trying to quench the thirst! blame claes bang and his stoopid face instead!

READ ON AO3!

Summary:

Count Dracula firmly believes that there are only three things needed to live a good, full life: great food, great alcohol, and great sex. There has never been a reason to think otherwise; he's sworn by this creed for the longest time and life is great and business has never been better. There's only one teeny-tiny problem, though, and it's in the form of that blasted bookshop owner across the street who seems to have made it her mission to rain on his glorious capitalistic parade.

After an honorable and decorated military career, Dr. Agatha Van Helsing just wants to live out the rest of her days in relative peace and comfort, surrounded by her army of books and chipped teacup collection. Her quaint little bookshop in the center of the bustling metropolis is a haven—her haven— and she has fought off and won against many a shady businessman who wanted to bully her out and turn it into the tenth circle of hell. But a new nightclub is coming to town— more specifically, across the street— and with it comes her greatest adversary yet.

This won't end well... right?

CHAPTER 1: The Businessman

Frank Renfield knew he wasn't the smartest tool in the shed— his father and brother had made multiple creatively sick variations on that theme during his formative years— but he couldn't really seem to care. In fact, he felt pretty bloody marvelous. Because when all was said and done, they're the ones buried six feet under in maggots and dirt and he was the one standing in the center of it all, acting as the Count's right-hand man. He wasn't a big thinker, but he was adaptable. A survivor.

Balaur Holdings had been in business for more than a century, and the Renfield family firm had been serving their interests for just as long. It started out with the management of Castle Dracula and their other estates, and as the nobility were wont to do it gradually expanded into real estate accumulation. At the turn of the millennium, when the formidable patriarch had died and the title was passed on, BH had decided to venture into new territory: bars and nightlife. A line of business quite suited to the new Count.

Speak of the devil, Renfield mused as he threw open the double oak doors to the Count's bedroom in his new luxury penthouse (a shining new jewel of Balaur Holdings' real estate development, of course). He was here to deliver the daily morning business report which, quite frankly, was tedious and useless due to two main reasons. One, since the Count was the farthest thing from a morning person, his brain wasn't operating on maximum capacity and therefore information retention was very low. Renfield often had to repeat things at least thrice in order to get through to him. But it was the better option than delivering having to deliver reports at night, because even though that was when the Count was truly alive and at his best, his... nocturnal carousing meant his blood flow went to his nether regions rather than up where Renfield really needed it to be.

The second reason was because of said nocturnal carousing, Renfield almost always walked in on him and his flavor of the night in the early morning hours. This morning he got lucky; Miss Tuesday Night was merely draped over the Count in bed while he stroked her bare legs like a pussycat. They must have just finished their morning aerobics, then. Or were they just about to start?

Renfield shook his head as he stood at the foot of the bed. No time to waste. The sooner he finished his report the sooner he could walk out of here and off to make more money.

"Good morning, Count Dracula. And Miss—" he started, but cut himself off as another perfect human specimen came out of the en suite bathroom, naked as the day he was born. He walked sultrily to the bed and gave a slack-jawed Renfield a saucy wink before settling himself on Dracula's other side, gently pawing at his chest hair.

Wow. Must have been one hell of a Tuesday night.

"— and Mister." Dracula finished lazily, still occupied with his pets. "Yes, Renfield. It would've been a good morning indeed if you hadn't interrupted."

"My apologies, sir. I am merely here to give you the daily update."

Dracula still didn't look at his lawyer. Dorabella, or whatever her name was, was very deliberately grinding on his cock, and naughty little Lord Ruthven (Ruben? Robin? he couldn't remember either) was nipping insistently at his jaw. He decided to just get the tedious little chore over with so he could go back to more interesting activities and be free of Renfield's rodent-like features. It wasn't doing any wonders for his mood.

"All right, get on with it then. Though I doubt much has changed since yesterday morning."

Renfield was relieved he could finally go on. He clicked on his iPad and read off from his list. "You are mostly correct, sir. BH stock has been doing very well on the market ever since that little scandal rocked Grosvenor, the board has no complaints or demands so far, restorations on Castle Dracula are ahead of schedule by two weeks, meaning it would be ready in time for the Wallachian Midsummer Festival, so much revenue to be had.."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes and fall asleep, Dracula gave a little sigh. It wasn't that he didn't care about the business; on the contrary, it's his life's work and was very much invested in its success. But the older Balaur ventures weren't what interested him. Land was one of the few things that appreciated with time, that wasn't going to change anytime soon, and that was something that he had in abundance. Unless the ground opened up underneath and swallowed all of his properties, there wasn't much to talk about. No, he was far more interested in his brain children.

"Renfield. Renfield!" he called out louder in order to stop the man from his rambling. "Enough about those. What of the clubs?"

"Ah yes, the clubs," Renfield echoed, pushing his glasses up his nose and scrolling to the bottom part of the page. "All is going well in Paris. Suckle's new social media marketing campaign really paid off and we've been bursting at full capacity every night. We might even have to plan expansions soon. There was a brawl outside last weekend, but French police handled it and no damage was done to club property or reputation."

For the first time that morning, Dracula smiled. Suckle was his first nightclub, and thus would always have a special place in his proverbial heart. It was also his first solo venture in the family business after years of toiling in estate management, and was sort of a giant middle finger to his old man, Devil rest his soul. He was a creature of the night, of earthly vice, and building establishments after his own image was like a drug. It fed on his god complex, sure, but the thrill of luring young, uninhibited, fabulously moneyed socialites into his den was exhilarating. Such pretty, unhinged additions they made to his collection. And Dracula was nothing if not a connoisseur of all things fine and beautiful.

"Excellent. And how goes it with my new darling?"

By "new darling" he meant his second nightclub venture, soon to be established here in his city. Many wondered why he didn't put up his first club on home soil, but that was mainly due to his father's insistence. If it fails, which it most likely will, then I want it far away from the British Isles. Do it if you must, but keep the filth away from the family business, the old geezer said. Well, it didn't fail, and now he could do as he pleased. The Count is dead, long live the Count!

Renfield tried valiantly to power through, but Dracula wasn't stupid. He saw the slight hesitation and sat up straighter in bed, his pets now forgotten. "What is it?"

"There is no problem with Hedo per se, sir," Renfield said slowly, eyeing the Count carefully. "Building inspections are done and approved and we are still set to open this Saturday. Liquor license is spotless, sanitation is the closest to godliness."

"Then what is the bloody problem, then?"

"Well," Renfield cleared his throat, "it's not the club, as I said. It's the block. We basically own the city center, and the commercial and residential spaces around Hedo... except for the establishment right across." His lip curled as he said "establishment," as if what he was pertaining to wasn't worthy of the word.

Now he had Dracula's full attention. Not so gently pushing away his lovers, he got up from the bed and grabbed his robe that was draped haphazardly on the nearby chaise. Even with his hair askew and his robe loosely tied at the waist, he looked positively feral and murderous. Renfield instinctively took a step back and clutched his iPad to his chest to use as some sort of shield. Not that it was going to be of any help.

"Do you mean to tell me that you haven't taken care of that little problem yet?" Dracula said, voice low and menacing, as he slowly advanced to where Renfield stood. Miss and Mister Tuesday Night sat dumbfounded on the bed, partly turned on by the sudden shift in their patron's mood, but mostly terrified and a hair's breadth away from cowering into the thousand thread count sheets.

"I...I..." Renfield stumbled over his words. Oh, if his laundry list of speech therapists could hear him now, they would throw more than apples at his head. "They were much more resilient than we thought. They—"

"Than you thought, you mean," Dracula growled. "You assured me they'd be out of sight and out of mind by the time construction started. We are about to open in three fucking days, Renfield! How do you think that's going to look?" He clenched his right fist around a bedpost, fighting the urge to chuck Renfield out of the goddamn window. Maybe he should, useless git that he was. But he still had some sense and finding a new lawyer was going to be a major pain in the ass. He was going to have to tough this out.

"I apologize, sir. I truly do. But their claim is airtight; there's no going around the land title. They've owned that piece of land long before the Dracula family had acquired the surrounding areas. And they—"

"'They' is a bunch of women! Are you seriously telling me that Balaur Holdings can't fight off a...a—" Dracula punched the bedpost in frustration as he searched for a suitable word to use to describe the walking headaches, startling the two people on the bed that he had all but forgotten about already, "—a goddamn convent?"

"We've tried everything, sir, believe me. Money, offers of relocation, the entire package. But she doesn't want any of it."

"She?"

"Yes, sir. The Van Helsings have owned that land and the bookshop for generations, and it is now under the ownership of the last living descendant, Agatha Van Helsing. I've spearheaded the negotiations myself. A most peculiar and headstrong woman..."

Dracula was still livid, but he took a deep breath to regroup. A woman. His obstacle and the owner of that eyesore that was about to ruin his plans was a woman. Things might not be as difficult as it seemed after all.

For if there was a subject matter that he could be considered an expert in, aside from gastronomic and nightlife pursuits, it was women. Or on a broader scale, the art of wooing and manipulation.

The sudden change in mood confounded the three other people in the room. The Count calmly walked to the decanter near the door and poured himself three generous fingers which he downed quickly and smoothly in one go. Then he set the glass down and without even looking, ordered, "You two. Get out."

Mister and Miss Tuesday Night looked at each other, then back at Dracula, laughing nervously. "Come on, darling, we haven't finished our fun yet," Mister Tuesday Night said.

Dracula still didn't turn and, before drinking the next two fingers in his glass, bit out with a hint of a snarl, "Don't make me ask again. I said: Get. Out!"

Not attempting to push their luck anymore, the two scrambled out of bed without even bothering to look for their clothes and whipped past Renfield and out the doors. Renfield almost felt pity for his patron's latest victims.

Almost.

Now that they were alone, Dracula turned to fully face Renfield. Gone was the fun-loving casanova; in his place now stood the ruthless, calculating businessman.

"It's not entirely unsalvageable. They might not be kicked out in time for the opening, but they will be out eventually. They don't want money, you say? Well, it's a matter of figuring out what it is they do want, then."

Relieved that no bodily harm would seem to come to him today, Renfield started typing on his iPad to get to work. "Yes, sir. I'll get right on it."

"No."

Renfield paused and looked up in confusion. "I... beg your pardon, sir?"

Dracula poured more into his glass and leisurely took a seat on the chaise, crossing his legs. His robe was completely untied now but he didn't seem to care. He smirked as he brought his glass to his lips and mouthed, "No."

Renfield didn't know what he was on about and didn't know how to respond either, so he opted to remain silent and wait. Dracula took his time to finish his drink before setting the glass down and resting one arm across the back of the chaise. He was smiling now, his pronounced incisors gleaming in the sunlight.

"No, Renfield, you won't be handling this any longer. I've tired of your incompetence and won't risk you sabotaging this any more than you already have. Understood?"

Renfield knew better than to object. He swallowed and inclined his head respectfully, obeying the Count's orders.

Dracula turned his head to his floor-to-ceiling windows, admiring the clear skies. That better be good omen for what was to come. He absolutely detested failure.

A last living descendant? He would make sure that blasted bookshop died along with that family name.

"This problem has gone on for far too long. Therefore, there really is only one solution: I'm handling this myself."

#claes bang #bbc dracula #dracula #agatha van helsing #dracula fanfic #I CANT BELIEVE I DID THIS IM SORRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#writing

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alma37 · 3 years

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I am kind of surprised - and a bit disappointed, tbh - that Dracula doesn’t acknowledge Agatha’s willingness “to open up her veins for him” as he does Lucy’s. I know they do it for widely different reasons, completely opposite, actually, but consent is here for both. No?

“Take me”! It can’t be clearer, can it?!

Especially as Agatha appears far more aware of the consequences than Lucy.

She doesnt’ resist, she isn’t afraid either. She even encourage him.

I made my point, didn’t I?!

#dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #dragatha #agatha van helsing #dolly wells #claes bang #lucy westenra #lydia west #random musings

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unfinishcdbusincss · 4 years

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It's not something one ever anticipates asking, but what happened after you were murdered?

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independent multimuse rp 18+ only written by ren

feat. SISTER AGATHA VAN HELSING of NETFLIX’S DRACULA & many more!

|| home || message || rules || muses || promo cred!

#dracula rp #sister agatha rp #agatha van helsing rp #sister agatha van helsing rp #dracula 2020 rp #van helsing rp #netflix dracula rp #bbc dracula rp #open rp #indie rp #multimuse rp

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anncanta · 3 years

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Ouroboros

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Mature

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @khyruma @ravenathantum @flutteringphalanges

Read on AO3

Or read below

Reflections of flame splashed across the walls in golden arabesques.

A naked man, covered in blood and slime, bent over to Agatha and stared at her.

‘One. It doesn't take much. One of them is enough for me to get inside,’ he said in an insinuating tone, holding up a long finger with a pointed nail.

‘You have it,’ Agatha said before she could grasp the meaning of her words.

Dracula raised an eyebrow.

‘I'll go with you if you leave them alone,’ she added, suppressing the panic that flared in her chest.

Squinting, Dracula tilted his head.

‘Leave them?’

Agatha nodded silently.

He stepped to the right, stopped, looking at the still-standing nuns with stakes in trembling hands.

‘So many possibilities... So many different tastes,’ he drawled slowly. ‘Why do you think you are worth all of them?’

Oh, she didn't think so. That's why she offered herself, Lord. Agatha thought feverishly.

‘All these women... have renounced earthly pleasures. They renounced desires, occupations, everything that makes up an ordinary life. What kind of memories will you get from them?’ Seeing the doubt on Dracula's face, she said quickly. ‘Stories of hard work, fasting, and prayer?’

Dracula ran a finger over his lips in thought.

‘The Mother Superior has a bad heart,’ Agatha continued, avoiding looking back. ‘Do you want to try aching pain and bitter herbal infusions?’

He was silent, and this gave Agatha confidence.

‘I saw a lot, learned a lot while traveling in my youth. I read many books and met different people. I know three languages, and... and in the end, if you eat me, you will learn something!’ She concluded angrily.

A completely boyish smile blossomed on Dracula's face.

Taking a step back to Agatha, he held out a blood-smeared hand.

Without giving herself time to be frightened and change her mind, Agatha put her hand in it. Very slowly, Dracula moved, dragging her along, until the gates of the monastery were behind her.

‘Agatha Van Helsing,’ Dracula said, looking into her eyes. ‘I'll make you last.’

With these words, he turned around and, still holding her hand in his, moved forward. After walking a few meters, he frowned and turned around.

‘You have a hungry vampire in your cell on the third floor. And with him is a wounded woman. If you want to save one of them, choose – whom and take care of it.’

***

It was cold in the castle.

Agatha did not remember when she was so cold. There were cold nights in the monastery; in especially harsh winters, the Mother Superior canceled evening services, because the floor and walls in the chapel were covered with frost. ‘The Lord will forgive me for such heresy,’ she said, ‘but He will not forgive me if, out of ostentatious obstinacy, I allow my neighbors to catch a cold and die.’ Many sisters condemned her. Agatha just smiled.

Finding herself in Dracula's castle, she reluctantly admitted to herself that she had never known anything about the cold before.

Agatha froze on the stairs, chattered her teeth in the room, shook in the corridors. She was chilly in the hall, shivering at the table in the main hall. And she considered it a blessing since there was a burning fireplace in the main hall.

The cold ate her food, making its way under the skin, forcing her to ruffle and walk from corner to corner. In motion, she slightly warmed up. Tired, she sat down to take a breath – and it all started all over again.

It seemed, Dracula did not notice her discomfort. Or rather, not that he noticed her. As far as Agatha could understand from their conversations (the conversations were a little distracting from the cold, so she tremendously appreciated them), he was preparing to move to England and was completely carried away by his daily affairs. When Agatha could not stand it and complained that because of the cold air in the room she could not sleep, he invited her to close the windows for the night, and the next evening he brought a sheepskin blanket. But the sheepskin stank so terribly that it overcame even the fear of dying of a cold.

With this something needs to be done, wandering half asleep at night along the corridor, thought Agatha. She herself did not know where she was going, but it was unbearable to stay in her room. It would be better if he killed her right away, she mused wearily. Anything is better than such torment.

The question of why Dracula still did not touch her worried her most of all – after the cold. When they got to the castle, Agatha waited for a hideous scene, perhaps right in the lobby or in the main hall, and honestly prepared herself to die with dignity.

After closing the large wooden door behind them, Dracula pointed to Agatha in the direction of the stairs, briefly explained how to get to the guest room, and turned around and left. And she remained – confused, tired and frightened – more than she was ready to admit to herself.

Agatha quickened her pace as she passed the grim portrait on the right wall.

Dracula was not distinguished by restraint and self-control. She could be convinced of this in the monastery. It seemed a miracle that he had not eaten her on the first evening, but it could be attributed to his own tiredness and satiety with the impressions of the cruel game. But couldn't he later...

She turned a corner and, rounding an antique cupboard, moved on until she stopped in front of a large black barrier. Agatha almost swore – wandering half asleep, it seems, she came to the bedroom of Dracula himself.

‘Do you go out at night, Sister Agatha?’

She looked up.

‘What do you want me to do? I still can't sleep. In my room…’

Dracula gave her a thoughtful look and pushed open the massive door.

‘You can sleep with me,’ he shrugged. ‘I have a blanket too.’

‘Sheepskin?’ Agatha asked resignedly.

‘A wool blanket,’ Dracula replied. He entered the room, leaving the door ajar.

Agatha stood on the threshold for a while and hesitantly stepped inside.

The room was spacious with a high ceiling. The fireplace was off, but a thick woolen blanket covered the large bed with a massive canopy. A door ajar in the far corner led into another room – perhaps a parlor or a library.

‘Aren't you sleeping in a stone sarcophagus?’ Agatha asked, looking at Dracula, who was sitting on the bed.

‘Only when I get tired of society,’ he smiled. ‘No,’ he continued in response to the look of impatient displeasure on her face. ‘I don't need the sarcophagus for sleep. This is an ancient tomb with a substrate from the Transylvanian soil. I sleep in it when I want to heal my wounds. The day before Jonathan found me there, I ran into peasants in the woods.’

‘I hope they beat you properly,’ Agatha said sincerely, going up to one of the chairs by the fireplace and sinking into it. And she shuddered – the leather upholstery was cold as ice. Only pride prevented Agatha from jumping up immediately.

Dracula, watching her from his seat, said nothing. He kicked off his shoes, climbed into bed, and threw back the covers to his right.

‘Well, are you going?’

The chair creaked under Agatha, who was leaning back.

‘Are you seriously offering me?..

‘I offer you a blanket,’ interrupted Dracula. ‘The only warm wool blanket in this room,’ he reminded indifferently. ‘I am ready to share with you a cozy bed,’ Dracula paused. ‘Or did you expect me to give it up to you and sleep in an armchair?’

Agatha, who had expected exactly that, remained silent with dignity.

‘If you don’t want to, stay where you are,’ Dracula shrugged his shoulders and pulled the blanket higher. ‘You will get warm from the candle on the table. Good night, Sister Agatha.’ He turned away and closed the bed curtain.

Agatha sat in confusion for a while. Her first impulse was to immediately get up and leave. But that would have strengthened Dracula's confidence in the victory of his irrepressible ego, so she just straightened angrily and lifted her nose.

It didn't last long, however.

How did anyone manage to survive in this castle, she thought irritably, getting out of the chair and stretching her arms and legs, numb from sitting in the same position and cold. Not surprisingly, the only inhabitant here is a vampire.

She cautiously walked forward as quietly as she could, approached the curtain of the bed, and pushed it back.

Dracula looked peacefully asleep and did not seem to hear her maneuvers.

For a moment Agatha gazed suspiciously at the impassive beautiful face, and then, having made up her mind and as if diving into the water, threw back the blanket and ducked under it.

The warmth that seized her almost immediately stunned Agatha. She had not felt the usual, physical warmth for so long. She missed it for so long and so desperately. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to completely immerse herself in it.

At first, the man's hands dropped on her shoulders do not distract her at all. Agatha lies there, enjoying the warmth and comfort, the long-awaited opportunity to let go of the tension, and the soft embrace of someone seems like a casual dream. Until...

‘Why are you warm?’ Agatha asks, opening her eyes.

She lies straight without moving. Escape still will not work.

‘What's so strange about that?’ Dracula's voice with a quiet breath – fleeting, unnecessary – slides down her cheek.

‘The books say that vampires…’

‘You read too much,’ he grins. ‘I am the same... in general, a living organism, like any other. Like a human being. Agatha, think,’ Dracula added impatiently, grabbing her with his left hand tighter, ‘I need food.’

‘Everything that eats gives off heat,’ Agatha murmured thoughtfully.

Dracula grunted approvingly. Again, his breath bit her lightly – now at the top of her neck.

‘If you're going to eat now…’ she began hoarsely.

‘Now I'm going to sleep,’ Dracula interrupted her. He moved, pulling her closer to him, literally surrounding her.

He was warm and large. Dangerous and predatory, Agatha reminded herself. The fear that accompanied her all this time in the castle again doused her with an icy wave – and retreated.

‘Why?’ Agatha asked Dracula, not knowing what.

‘Because I'm a vile, unpredictable monster,’ Dracula purred. ‘Sleep, Agatha,’ he said and buried his nose in her neck.

Asleep, she realized, dumbfounded.

For a couple of minutes Agatha lay, listening to the silence and rare breathing of Dracula, until, warming up and finally exhausted, she also fell asleep.

***

Agatha woke up contented and refreshed. Stretching slowly, she got up and turned on the other side. And then she froze in fright. She sat down sharply and looked around.

She was in her room, lying in bed. Turning her head, Agatha frowned. She clearly remembered that she had fallen asleep in the Count's bedroom. Did she dream about it, or what?

No, she was not dreaming, thought Agatha, absentmindedly running her hand over the wool blanket in which she had wrapped herself so greedily the day before. Again she glanced across the room and stared at the fireplace.

The fireplace was lit and the wood crackled softly in it.

Agatha rubbed her face wearily with her hands. What a stupid game? Climbing out of bed, she went to the fireplace. A uniform heat emanated from the scarlet flame.

Everything that had happened to her over these weeks collapsed on Agatha at once, and she realized that she could not go on.

...

‘Why are you torturing me?’

Standing with his back to the entrance to the great hall, Dracula turned around.

‘Good morning, Agatha,’ he said politely.

Agatha ignored the greeting.

‘Why haven't you eaten me yet?’ standing in the doorway, she asked.

Dracula looked at her attentively and silently.

‘I did not expect nobility from you. But how dare you torture me?’

‘Agatha, are you frozen over again? I must admit, when I brought you here, I didn’t take into account…’

She must have looked so miserable that he did not go on.

‘Come here.’

Now they were separated by a little less than a step. Looking up, Agatha said quietly:

‘You'd better tore me to pieces. It would be better if you grabbed my throat there, at the monastery. But to live day after day in this cold…’

‘In your room…’

Shaking her head, Agatha wiped away a tear with her hand.

‘Living day after day, waiting to be bitten... It's too much even for me. Too much even for you.’

There was a silence.

‘It's easy to sacrifice yourself in a passionate impulse,’ Agatha said wearily. ‘While you are at your peak, and fear does not torment but intoxicates. But when the fog clears and you stay... However,’ she smiled sadly and bitterly. ‘You promised to make me last.’

He looked at her for a while, squinting.

‘What did Jonathan tell you?’

Agatha grimaced.

‘That you came to him at night... He fell asleep, he dreamed of Mina... And then it turned out that it was you.’ Agatha hesitated. ‘You were then…’

‘I was old then.’

‘I do not think that something would have changed if you were young.’

Dracula laughed.

‘Who knows.’

He brushed aside the hair from her left shoulder and asked:

‘What exactly scares you?’

‘Why do you need this?’

‘As far as I could figure out, there are two types of visions of victims – what a person desperately wants, and what he or she is afraid of.’

‘Jonathan missed his fiancée,’ Agatha said.

‘And his feelings brought to life a fantasy of a night of love. If you see what you want,’ Dracula smiled, ‘the image of myself with an aspen stake in my chest awaits me. I'll get over it. But I don't want to be part of your nightmares.’

‘Does it spoil the taste?’

Instead of answering, he ran his finger along her nose, from nasal bridge to the tip.

‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ he said cheerfully and bent down to her neck.

Her vision was clouded with fog, Agatha felt cold, then hot, then everything began to spin...

Opening her eyes, she found that she was lying on a huge bed, naked, and Dracula, completely naked, hung over her.

For a couple of long moments, Agatha just silently looked into his eyes.

‘Sorry, I didn’t understand,’ Dracula said. ‘Is it a wish or a nightmare?’

#dracula 2020 #bbc dracula #count dracula #agatha van helsing #dragatha

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flutteringphalanges · 3 years

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Summary: It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula implied Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: So sorry for the delay. I had a lot of unexpected things going on in my life. This chapter goes out to @mitsukatsu. Happy belated one year friendiversary! I’m so glad we have our friendship! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

Chapter Nine

Zoe found it rather unusual that the hospital decided to discharge her in the wee hours in the morning. Perhaps they needed an extra bed or just saw it fit to let the scientist go before the “morning rush”. Whatever the case, she wasn’t one to complain. Lying on her back, propped up on some cushions from the sofa, she stared upwards towards the ceiling, hands resting on the visible slope of her stomach. Tired. Nauseated. She just wanted to fall asleep and yet, her mind still reeling from the overload of new information prevented her from doing so.

“I can’t guarantee that it won’t taste dreadful seeing as it came from a can, but you need something to settle your stomach.”

The scientist didn’t turn her head to acknowledge Dracula as he strode into her living room. For some reason she had yet to put a finger on, Zoe had agreed to let him come in. Just for a few minutes. A few minutes that had turned into over an hour. Now the vampire had basically made himself at home in her own kitchen. As he went to place the bowl down on the coffee table, her eyes immediately flew over to the stack of documents the hospital had allowed her to keep. The lab results that could easily hold the keys she needed to begin unlocking the twins’ genetic codes.

“Careful!” She snapped, lunging forward to gather the papers as if they were some sort of precious artifact. “Do you realize how important these are?! The last thing I need is for them to be damaged.” Zoe eyed him incredulously, holding the documents close to her chest. “What even is that?”

“A proper acknowledgement of thanks would have sufficed.” The vampire exhaled, setting the dish down after a long moment. “And it’s some vegetable soup I found canned in your cupboard. Highly doubt it holds the nutrients your body needs, but in such a short span of time, it’s the best I could’ve come up with.” Dracula eyed the papers she clutched tightly. “Might I inquire what it is that you are doing? Or rather, plan to?”

Zoe seemed to ponder the idea of humoring him with an answer. “Research.” She responded curtly. “Which is why I cannot risk having anything spilling onto them. And besides,” the scientist frowned. “I am not hungry.”

Dracula’s lips pressed into a thin line as he eyed the scientist with visible annoyance. Taking in a deep, unnecessary breath, he forced a smile onto his face and pulled up a chair beside her. Zoe eyed him suspiciously as he folded his hands onto his lap.

“Two boys.” He mused, nodding at the idea. “It is a very welcoming thought knowing that the Dracula name will be continued.”

“The two chromosomes that determine the sex of our two babies should be the least of your concerns right now.” Zoe commented with a frown. “What should really be on your mind is what lies in their genetic makeup. Their overall DNA construction.” When she caught Dracula smiling, her frown deepened. “What?”

“You said our babies.” He replied with a smirk. “It’s nice to see you’re getting used to the idea of the two of us.”

“There is no two of us.” She replied point blank. “And if you continue to press my buttons, I can assure you there will only be one of us.” His continued look of amusement only made her blood boil hotter. “Why won’t you just leave? Your mere presence in my house right now is giving me a headache and I’ve already had one hell of a night.” Zoe gave a nod towards the door. “If you hurry, you can be back at your flat before you burn into a crisp.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Dracula chuckled. “Sometimes I have difficulty telling your regular attitude towards me from your hormones.” He watched as Zoe reached for the television clicker that sat on the table with the intention to beam it at him. “Alright, alright…” He gave in, holding his hands up. “I suppose I’ll leave you to your own devices, but only because you are in need of rest.” The vampire offered her a smile, though he did not receive one in return. “Get some rest, Dr. Van Helsing. I’ll be seeing you at the Harker Foundation soon enough.”

“I’ll wait for that with bated breath.” Zoe muttered, rolling her eyes. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Her eyes followed the Count as he made his way towards the exit, narrowing when he turned his head as if to say something.

“Rest well, Zoe.” Though his voice lacked any insincerity. “I mean it.”

Zoe said nothing as he turned away, opening the door before slipping out into the night. She listened for his footsteps, half expecting him to waltz right back into her home. When she was certain that he was gone, the scientist sighed and allowed her shoulders to relax. It had been quite the long night to say the least and the need to clear her mind enough for her to focus was at the top of her priorities.

“If I go as far to boldly assume you and Count Dracula are becoming closer, would that be a correct assumption?”

Zoe’s facial features tightly scrunched in aggravation as Agatha’s voice met her ears. Maybe if she ignored her. Maybe if she didn’t look in her direction. Perhaps the ghost of her great, great aunt would disappear. But despite the wait, the silence, she could still feel the specter’s presence.

“You are entering into dangerous territory, Zoe. You truly have no idea what he is capable of. While he acts as if he cares, the vampire is very skilled in the art of manipulation. If you fall into his trap, digging yourself out is nearly impossible.”

“I am far from having any relations with Count Dracula.” The scientist grumbled, opening her eyes but keeping them averted from where Agatha stood. “And I can handle myself quite well, thank you. I’d much appreciate it if you’d just go away.”

“Whether you realize it or not, my intentions are for your very own good. Your sanity isn’t in the strongest of places and it wouldn’t be right if I were to pass on without keeping an eye on you.” She paused for a moment before adding. “And Count Dracula.”

“You being in my life right now is what is making me insane.” Zoe countered with a long sigh. “Having to deal with a vampire AND a ghost is just another layer to the tipping tower of my anxiety. Not to mention I’m dealing with pregnancy on top of that.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Now please, I beg of you, leave me be. I need time to think things over.”

“I’m concerned you’re growing fickle with your loyalty to the Van Helsing name.” When Zoe didn’t respond to this, Agatha merely sighed. “Tread carefully, Zoe. Do not let what grows within you change who you really are.”

The scientist chewed on the inside of her cheek in a strong attempt to not respond. It would be wise on her part to not fuel the flames with her rather...pesky and persistent ancestor. After a very few, long moments, Zoe turned her head in the direction of where Agatha should’ve been. Just like Dracula had, the woman finally had the decency to leave. Exhaling, she rearranged her stack of papers and set them off to the side.

“You are causing me quite a lot of drama.” She mumbled, placing a hand on her stomach. It still felt kind of silly addressing them. It wasn’t as if they were even born. Yet sometimes it was oddly comforting. “But I am going to look on the brighter side of things and assume it will be all worth it in the end...I hope.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe caught sight of the bowl of soup Dracula had made for her. Pursing her lips, she gingerly lifted it from the table and studied it carefully. Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t dare do anything to it that would harm her--or his offspring for that matter. And it did smell rather pleasant. Stomach rumbling, Zoe picked up the spoon. As she took in a mouthful, surprised at how good it tasted, she made a mental note to not let the vampire know she actually enjoyed it. He didn’t need the extra ego boost.

“We’re going to be okay.” She mumbled, looking down at her stomach. “The three of us…” Zoe took in another spoonful and glanced towards the paperwork. “I’ll make sure of it.”

XXX

Due to her doctor’s recommendation to take it easy as well as the unfortunate matter of cutting into her sick days, Zoe finally returned back to work at the Foundation. Though facing Bloxham was not the most pleasant of things to look forward to, the scientist had grown rather restless at home. There was only so much she could do research wise without a lab and no one to trust to know her secret.

Zoe frowned softly as ran her hand down the very visible bump of her stomach. Just in the past several days, she had begun to really show. Something she felt a little self-conscious about. Carrying twins made it look like she was much farther along than sixteen weeks. It still felt surreal that she was nearly five months along. How time had seemingly flown, slipping like sand between her fingers.

“Zoe, it’s wonderful to have you back!”

The warmth and welcoming sound of Jack’s voice greeted the scientist’s ears as her former mentee strode up and pulled her into a gentle hug. Out of all things, it was rather pleasant to see him again. He was, after all, one of the very few she could call her a true friend. Upon stepping back, the young doctor’s eyes scanned the woman over.

“You look great.” He commented, offering her a genuine smile. “It’s been rather dull without you here. Not much excitement.” He paused. “And Count Dracula hasn’t exactly made his presence known since your absence.” Jack shook his head at the thought as if trying to clear something from his mind. “Anyway, how are you feeling? Dr. Bloxham didn’t force you to come back, did she? You’re sure you feel alright to come back?”

“It’s lovely to see you too, Jack.” Zoe smiled softly. “And yes, I feel perfectly capable to return to the Foundation. I just needed time to recuperate. Doctor’s orders, not exactly what I had intended. But to maintain a healthy pregnancy is more important than my addiction to work.” She chuckled at that. “Good to know I haven’t missed much. There were moments where I had my concerns about how things were functioning.”

“Well, if you need anything, anything at all, just--”

But Jack was abruptly cut off by the clean, swooshing sound of two sliding doors opening. Both he and Zoe turned their head to see Bloxham entering the room with her ever present unreadable expression. Her eyes briefly flickered over at Jack before focusing on the other woman.

“Dr. Van Helsing.” She nodded, her tone flat. “I’m glad you’ve seen yourself fit enough to return to work. Your lack of participation has been noted but...excused.” Bloxham’s attention turned to the file folder of papers Zoe had tucked underneath one of her arms. “And those would be?”

“Prevalent to my work with Count Dracula.” Zoe said, trying to remain unsuspicious as she readjusted them in her grasp. “Nothing of great importance. Just something I had on hand while I was at home.” If her boss only knew what the contents within were. “I’m assuming that the Count will be paying us a visit later on tonight as per scheduled?”

Within the last several days, Zoe had received over a handful of texts from the vampire--of which she replied very few to. Just enough to keep him out of her hair. Since the hospital fiasco, this would be the first time in weeks they’d be face to face. A twinge of nervousness panged in the bottom of her stomach as Bloxham threw her a quizzical look before relaxing.

“See to it that tonight’s session meets our highest expectations. Due to your...holiday, we’ve lost valuable time with Dracula. It is unknown how long his willingness to come in will last.” Bloxham’s lips pursed together as she grabbed her magnetized badge. “I look forward to your findings, Dr. Van Helsing. Do not let me down.”

Zoe hadn’t realized she’d been literally biting her tongue onto the faint, metallic taste of blood met her taste buds. She ground her teeth as Bloxham walked casually away well aware that Jack’s eyes were on her. Exhaling, she turned to the young doctor.

“Well, that was friendlier than she usually is.” He attempted to joke, giving her a reassuring smile. “At least she didn’t chew you out. Why just last week, Henderson in forensics dropped a bunch of the new vials the Foundation had ordered and from the earful she gave him, I was convinced he was on his way out the door jobless with a box of broken glass.”

Not that she intended to let anyone near her experiments, Zoe made a mental note to avoid Henderson’s clumsiness at all cost. The last thing she needed was for all of her important work to go to waste. Vials were one thing, but what they would hold was a completely different matter.

“I’m going to go get situated.” She said, feigning a small smile. “I think it’s best I dive back into the thick of things. After all, I might as well busy myself before my version of Interview with a Vampire tonight.”

“Nice touch, Zoe.” Jack laughed. “Never took you for a movie type.”

“I suppose I’m full of surprises then.” She responded, unbeknownst to Jack how true that statement really was. “I’ll be seeing you then?”

“Bloxham has us all working overtime.” The young man answered. “So the chances of us crossing paths today are inevitable.”

“Good then.” Zoe nodded, clutching her documents. “I look forward to it.”

XXX

Though it wasn’t much, the small office like space designated to her personal belongings proved to be usable enough. Zoe exhaled as she sat down, pushing aside the clutter that had begun to build on her desk. Setting the folder onto a cleared spot, she opened it carefully. Still crisp as the night she had received them, Zoe peered down at the test results from the night at the hospital.

The hardest part of being homebound for two weeks was not having the access needed to further her research. Yet, Zoe was smart and resourceful enough to scour the internet for something, anything that would prove of use to her. And as luck would have it, she had found a possible piece to her ever growing puzzle.

“Cell-free fetal DNA…” She muttered, looking from the sticky note where she had scrawled the information down and then back to her computer screen. “Possible specimen matter. Requires blood to be drawn from the mother which, when tested, allows one to extract fetal DNA presented from the placenta that has been dispersed through the woman’s bloodstream.” The keys on her laptop clicked rapidly as Zoe’s eyes remained fixated on the screen. “Subject One: Dr. Zoe Van Helsing.”

Zoe leaned back in her chair and studied the text on the screen. Experimentation. It was something she had considered but never when it came to her being the subject. Absentmindedly, she placed a hand on the apex on her stomach. Going about this was going to be hard. Not to mention very difficult seeing as it was a top secret project. Especially since subject two’s involvement was undetermined at this point. For all of this to work, she would need his full, committed participation.

With a long sigh, she returned her fingers to the keyboard. “Subject Two: Count Dracula.”

Obtaining a blood sample from him would be the easiest part. Her reasoning for doing so she could fabricate. Zoe had all of the equipment at her disposal, it was just a matter of finding the time to use it for her own devices. A knock came at her door, causing the scientist to snap back to reality. Quickly stashing away the documents into her desk and closing her screen, she straightened up in her seat.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open to reveal one of Bloxham’s head guards. Zoe tried to ignore the pounding in her chest as he cleared his throat. Surely he had no idea of her plans. No one did. So why exactly did it feel like every artery in her body was about to burst?

“Dr. Bloxham wanted me to tell you that Count Dracula has arrived.” The man said, his tone emotionless. “I’ll be the one to escort you to the room.”

“Right then.” Zoe sighed, standing up slowly. “If you don’t mind me requesting privacy after you doing so, I believe it will be best if he and I were alone. He seems to be more willing to offer up information when it is just the two of us.” If any of this were to work, she’d need that in order to speak to him. “You may wait outside of the door if need be.”

The guard narrowed his eyes but gave a nod of confirmation. Slipping a voice recorder into her pocket, Zoe trailed behind the guard feeling slightly winded. The pregnancy was starting to take a toll on her whether she liked to admit it or not. As the guard slid the access card through the slot in the keypad, the thick metal doors glided open to reveal the familiar room with a table situated in the center.

“Ah, Zoe, so wonderful to see you again.”

Dracula sat at the opposite end of the table, his dark eyes fixed on the scientist as she stepped into the room. Motioning for the guard to exit, Zoe strode forward and took her usual spot across from him. She could feel his eyes taking in every inch of her body, focusing mostly on her stomach before they finally met hers.

“It’s been awhile.” He commented, leaning against the table. “I was beginning to grow concerned after I learned about your medical conundrum. I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

“Yes.” Zoe replied, straightening up. “I’ve been taking it easy.”

“Always good to follow a doctor’s order. Or rather, in today’s age.” He gave a small smile that Zoe struggled to tell was genuine or one of judgement. “So, what do you have planned today? Shall I give you more history about my existence, or have you something else in mind?”

“I require another sample of your blood.” She said, watching him carefully. “It’s for an important matter.”

“Color me intrigued.” The vampire said, resting his elbows on the table. “What exactly are you looking for this time? You aren’t going to lose them again, are you?”

“This is for an important matter.” Zoe said, a hand resting on her stomach in an attempt to give him a silent cue. “Your willingness to provide me another sample would be greatly appreciated and would prove vital in the cause…” She racked her brain, trying to think of a reason in case they were being monitored. “...A cause in learning more about your physiology.”

Dracula was silent for a moment. “Take what you must. I suppose it is for a good cause after all.” His eyes returned to her stomach. “I’m hoping you’ll keep me updated if you find anything of interest. You know I am a man of science.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Zoe nodded, relieved by his compliance. “Allow me to grab some vials.” Hopefully Henderson hadn’t destroyed the lot. “I will return momentarily.”

Dracula didn’t reply as Zoe made her way across the room and to a metal tray that had been set off to the side. There was no needle this time, it would prove useless as it had during their first attempt. The vampire already had his wrist exposed by the time Zoe returned to his side. Her stomach crawled as he drew his sharp nail across the pale skin creating an open wound. Holding the vial carefully, she collected the dark blood as it dripped down.

“Is that enough?” He asked, sounding surprisingly genuine.

“For now.” Zoe replied, quickly placing the top on and giving it a few turns. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” The vampire smirked softly, his skin already knitting back together. “I am at your service after all.”

Their eyes met, neither of them speaking. Something within Zoe began to stir that, at first, she thought was merely heartburn. But the longer they looked at each other, she came to the realization it was butterflies in her stomach. Feeling the heat rush to her cheeks, she bit down on her lip and immediately turned away. No, this was not happening. It was only hormones. Bloody hormones. She certainly wasn’t having the tiniest amount of feelings for him.

“I should go and take this to the lab before it expires.” She said quickly. “You can see yourself out, I presume?”

“Usually I am escorted so it isn’t a problem.” Dracula chuckled. “Same time as always?” He paused, causing Zoe to feel that much more uncomfortably hot. “You know how to reach me in case you require some personal assistance sooner.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She replied, clearing her throat. “I should really be going. Good night, Count Dracula.”

Before the vampire had a chance to reply, Zoe had already made her way to the double doors and exited the room. She said nothing as she brushed past the guard. Her mind was reeling so much so she hadn’t even realized she’d made it to the lab. Finally stopping to catch her breath, Zoe noticed that the area was vacant. With a sigh of relief, she made her way over to one of the counters.

FRAGILE. DO NOT TOUCH. She hoped this would keep Henderson and any others from messing with the contents. Looking over her shoulder, she quickly began to rummage through one of the drawers. Producing a long needle, she swallowed hard, slightly ill at the thought of what she was about to do. Despite the cancer and the various blood tests, her hate for needles had never lessened.

“I’m only doing this for you.” She mumbled, glancing down at her stomach before preparing the needle and syringe. “This better work.”

Tying a band around her upper arm, she felt around for a good vein. Taking a deep breath, she plunged the needle through her flesh and watched as a vial began to fill with her own blood. It was slightly lighter than Dracula’s, something she made a mental note of. Once she was convinced she had enough to work with, she removed the needle and topped the vial.

FRAGILE! DO NOT TOUGH. She scrawled upon the sticker, hoping that it would prevent others again from messing with it. Eyeing both vials, one belonging to her and the other to the vampire, she pursed her lips, turning her head to glance over at the slides and a nearby microscope.

Pulling out a voice recorder, Zoe cleared her throat before pressing record.

“Monday, April 25th. Experiment One. Testing cellular immortality.”

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #BBC Dracula #Zoe Van Helsing #Agatha Van Helsing #Gemini

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