#Draucla / Reader

[fanfiction-inc]

“But Of Course.”

Title: “But Of Course.”

Verse: Dracula (2020)

Characters/Pairings: Dracula/ Reader

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, alcohol, mentions of blood, blood, body disposal, flirting. Not really that worrisome.

Word Count: 1607

Summary: A request for a friend about the reader meeting Dracula in the bar. Oh, the bonding.

Rating: Mature (for mature themes)

Note: I was requested from a good friend to write a thirst story for her without truly going into smut. So here we are. Thank you to the always lovely @yancy-trash​ on Tumblr for proofing this fic and giving me feedback before I post it.

Link to Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22781278

Saturday night, prime time for the clubbers and mingling masses. Lovely chaos of the clubs that spill out into the streets and spread among drunkards and horny bastards. Too much noise, too much glee and happiness. Sickening stench of club-rigged drugs and bathroom sex. Boring, always so boring, and yet those that were unfortunate enough to be dragged along must endure. A tap to the mahogany surface of the clubs bar top, the bartender sending a light nod to the woman sitting alone near the end of the bar away from company of the gathering university masses, spilling drinks here and there and getting into petty squabbles over who fucked who and whom and who called dibs on the next hot piece of ass. Distasteful, this generation had always been so distasteful.

Whisky on the rocks, straightforward with no questions asked, that was what this world needed. No guesswork, just something to numb the pain and drown out the noise that has been so festering at the ear drums. A single sip was taken before the weight of a college lad slammed against the back of the woman sitting alone, drink spilling all over the bar top and coating the mahogany and spilling over the edges onto the bottles below holding various other liquors. She groaned, gaze looking back at the lad who gave a cheeky smile and threw that look that only said selfish prick. “Hiya baby d-” “Don’t even fucking try, mate. If you’re this much of a light weight, stumbling around, I’m rather sure you wouldn’t last two seconds in bed. Scram.” The lad was about to argue before catching sight of a new skinnier and more viable, even drunker than him, option of a woman. Long legs, legs for fucking days. The woman sighed, surprised when a new glass was set before her on the semi-cleaned bar top, napkin beneath holding neat lettering. “Who?” Was all the woman had to ask, a finger pointed to the man at the other end of the bar top, glass raised in greetings with that look that simply said ‘enjoy’. Another glance to the napkin below, note neatly written yet beginning to smear from the remnants of the whiskey that had been spilled before.

“It’s quiet over here. Care to join me?”

It was an invitation from a man far older yet far different from the crowd lingering within the confines of the club. It seemed he held a far more confident air, and he didn’t seem like the drunkard party boy type much like the others standing about trying to catch a new lad or lass for their five second sexcapades in the handicap stall of the club's bathroom. Slowly the half-drenched napkin and glass of newly poured whiskey was moved along to the end where the man sat, the shadow in the back of neon lights and drug induced dancing. He looked near pleased when the woman sits with him, looking on to the was she stretched to straddle the seat before crossing her legs in a far more lady-like manner. “Either this was given to the wrong woman or you have me gravely mistaken.”

A moment where the man smirked against the rim of his glass, stealing a slow, savored sip of the thickened red of a wine that didn’t smell too sweet, nor really smelled much like a wine. But who was to say what it really smelled beyond the scent that clashed within the mass of bodies. “Oh, it was meant for you, I do promise you that. No one as lovely as you should be alone, and for that same token, hit on by boys thinking they’re men.”

“And do you consider yourself the lucky man who will score tonight?” The man shrugged, sending a small chuckle to the woman at his side. “No one is quite able to determine the outcome of the night, not nearly so early into the evening when things are just starting. So, no, I do not consider myself lucky in such regards unless you are to change my mind on such.” A wink that could have been missed with a blink of an eye caught the woman off guard, a soft smile tracing her lips.

“You seemed quite lonesome, my dear. All alone with no party to keep your interest?” He inquired with a raised brow, wondering why someone with such a steady heart and lovely gaze would be alone in the epicenter of drunken and lust induced chaos. “Oh, m’party left a while ago. No fun, those posh bastards. All they want is to dance, drink, and fuck. The same rinse and repeat every weekend. It gets bloody boring, especially when I’m not much for dancing or bein’ pressured to find some sod to bring home.”

“Ah, I believe I understand. I’m rather, how should I say, picky with my preferences in people. Like a fine connoisseur of wines, you have to pick through the crowd to find the right flavor.”

“You’ve got that right.” A glance over the mans features, he grinned at her lingering gaze. “Sometimes the right vintage is in order, though I’m far more a whiskey connoisseur than wine. It’s never done much for my taste.”

“Or is it a matter that it simply doesn’t give you the right numbing buzz?”

She paused at his words, wondering just how the man could figure such. Was she that visible, that see-through? “Of course I mean no offense by such, my dear. You just simply seem tired of the same grind, the same motions like a creek that always floods. You appear prone to it.” A stifle of a saddened chuckle. The woman knew he hit the nail right on the head. “You know, if you’re gonna hit that close to home, you might as well get my name first.” He blinked before placing a hand on his head with a chuckle, his dramatics almost charming in a way. “May I ask the name of such a ravishing creature?” She actually blushed at his words, startled to be called ravishing by such an extraordinary man who could read her like an open book. “(First name). Her hand was extended to shake his own and yet the shadow of a man surprised her when he grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, a delicate kiss given to her knuckles. “I’m Dracula. Count Dracula if you must.” The air around them seemed to shift to a far more comfortable setting, even as the club began to grow tighter and tighter, far more suffocating then one would prefer. The drinks kept coming, the world numbing to a dull buzz and the gentle drone of her mystery man's voice as he spoke of many things. Art, music, the culture of the modern world. It was to the point that a glass of water was taken and sipped before a final invitation arose.

“(First name), would you care to join me before I retire for the night? Perhaps a stroll in the park?” It was truly an innocent offer on his behalf, the crimson liquid that had dwindled to mere drops left behind on the bar top and arm offered for the other. “I don’t know, Drac. I think I should call a cab and make my way back to m’flat. Perhaps a rain check?” He smiled at her words. His dinner plans had been thrown out the window the moment he realized the water was beginning to work its way through her system and she didn’t seem to nearly sway as bad. Oh well, ‘fast food’ was in order for tonight, and she may serve as a sweetened dinner on another night. “Ah, yes, of course.” He offered a hand once more to the woman, a soft peck yet again dropped to her knuckles before a card was tucked against her palm. She turned it over to see the Counts number, a faint smirk meeting her lips. “I’ll make sure to m-” A glance up and the man was gone, leaving the other to wonder just where he could have squeezed his lengthy frame off to in the middle of such a chaotic crowd.

A cab was called as the night grew later, back hitting the worn leather of the interior seat and sigh falling from painted lips.

[You never told me you were a magician, Mr. Count. - (Y/n)]

[I never said I wasn’t, my dear. ;) - D]

The Count smirked as he glanced down to his phone, the odd little device bringing that same excitement as the thrill of the chase when he captures his next meal. Indeed, this one truly had been fast food. He lightly wipes at the crimson that had beaded and rolled from the corner of his mouth down his chin, the cloth tucked away within his suit pocket as the corpse before his feet was nudged off into the water of the Thames. Oh, how lovely London was for its disposal services. Such a body of water provided the loveliest of cover ups.

[Care to meet me for drinks next week? Maybe we could find something a bit more to your selective flavors. - (Y/N)]

[Oh, how that sounds delectable. Consider my schedule free for that night, my dear. -D]

[Always a charmer, aren’t you? - (Y/N)]

A snicker fluttered among the air when he looked at the brightened screen, a lick to his lips following as he followed the familiar streets leading to his own flat, quiet steps that would normally echo silent as he thinks of a reply. Oh, this one way playful when not in person.

[But of course. -D]

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [31]

Masterlist

~^*^~

The next morning, you awoke with a heavy arm draped over your waist. Overnight, your fever had come and gone and you were finally a normal temperature. You turned your head, looking behind you to see Dracula. His eyes were closed, and you knew that he wasn’t sleeping he couldn’t. He was probably just resting himself after the events of yesterday.

In your wrist, there was a subtle throb where your wound was, but you noticed that it had been bandaged up whilst you were out cold.

You sighed, turning around to face Dracula. He could feel you moving, positioning yourself so that your arms were wrapped around him, one of your legs draping over his, pulling yourself into him. He only pulled you closer. It was silent. It was peaceful.

It was maybe half an hour that you stayed like that, just lying in his arms. In a way, it was your apology for leaving him. Letting him just feel you against him, it was like saying that you were sorry and confirming that you weren’t leaving again. And you weren’t. After last night, after Dracula had done everything to get you back to him, how could you leave? He had proven to you that you meant more to him than you originally thought. He had lost control in anger. He’d been angry with you before, with Jack, and he’d never lain a finger on either of you. You were safe with him.

“Darling...” his voice broke the silence, rippling through the air. You hummed a response, snuggling into him as if he were the warmest thing in the world, “we need to get up...”

“No...” you whined quietly, “we need to stay here.”

He chuckled, pulling himself away from you. You tightened your leg around him, keeping him close. He looked down at you, smiling.

“My darling, my sweetheart, my sunlight, we need to go.” He told you softly.

“Go where?”

“If you get dressed, maybe you’ll find out.”

“Drac.” You pouted.

“I’m disclosing no information, I’ve already packed your stuff, just change.” He pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your head, “are you going to remove your leg now, darling?”

“Five minutes.” You mumbled, pulling yourself into him once more. Dracula chuckled. Five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

~^*^~

It was a dull morning. It was just bleak. A white sky with grey clouds swirling high above, the grass deep greens, rolling fields of sage and forest green squares.

The country roads were mostly empty, every now and then, Dracula would have to drastically reduce his speed to match that of a car in front. You didn’t speak much during the drive. You liked to look out of the window - even if the scenery wasn’t bursting with vivid colours - and see what you were passing. Dracula opted against the radio, liking the sound of the grumble of the engine. Every now and again, he’d ask if you were doing okay, and you’d give a quick response before falling back into silence. It was nice and peaceful.

When the sign for the airport came up, a little jolt of excitement ran through you and Dracula caught on when your blood began to rush with it. He smirked.

“Looking forward to our little escape?” He teased.

“I haven’t been abroad in so long.”

“Evidently, neither have I.” He flashed you a rather goofy smile and within the next ten minutes, you were hauling bags out of the car, “here.” He took the suitcase, then your backpack, then his own carry on and began striding towards the entrance. You were left to stand in confusion before rushing after him.

He jumped very slightly when you suddenly linked your arm with his. It was mostly just so that you could keep up with his fast pace, but your display of affection and ownership of him... wow. Your hands were a little colder than usual and he wondered if you needed your jacket from your bag. He supposed you’d get it yourself if you needed it.

An hour later and you were boarding the plane.

“Oh, sorry, ma’am, you’re this way.” The flight attendant placed his hand on your lower back. It was obviously out of just trying to help, but the look Dracula gave was enough for the hand to be immediately removed.

“But- business is-“ you began pointing.

“[First], you don’t truly believe I’d make you fly in business class do you?”

“Well, it’s already a step up from what I’m used to...” you trailed off.

The flight attendant pulled back the curtain to the place where you would be seated and you gasped. Plush, cream leather seats, all reclinable, with fluffy blankets awaiting you. So much space!

“First class?” You turned your head to Dracula who was grinning.

“The best, for the best.”

“Okay, how much money do you have?” The flight attendant clearly pretended to forget how to hear and turned away to help the next group of people on.

“That’s a very personal question, [First].” Dracula playfully frowned, “it’s not something you ask a gentleman.”

“You are anything but a gentleman.”

You sunk down into a seat, a moan of the pleasure of being in first class pulling from your lips.

“Stop with the noises,” he spoke, taking the seat next to you.

“Why? Turn you on?” You asked nonchalantly. You began to fiddle with the remote for your personal TV.

“Extremely.”

You laughed. For a moment, you fidgeted and found a comfy way to sit. You looked over at Dracula, who had decided to read the safety pamphlet. You wondered if he’d get a fear of flying after the safety precautions. That would be pretty funny.

The pre-flight procedures took place and then you were taking off.

“Champagne, madam?” The flight attendant held out a glass. You gave Dracula a quick look of excitement.

“Yes please.” You took the glass. You were trying hard not to smile too brightly.

“And for the gentleman?” He held out another glass.

“No, thank you, I don’t drink... champagne.” You snorted at Dracula’s words and the flight attendant gave you a strange look.

“Very well.”

“Stop that.” Dracula turned to you, a smile on his own face. The flight attendant turned away.

His hand found yours and you sat back, enjoying the feeling of being in first class. The flight was only a couple hours long, and from the stretch from England to wherever Dracula had brought you, the sky turned into a dazzling blue, the sun came out and it had begun to get hot.

You were so very curious to find out where the vampire had brought you. Spain, maybe? Or perhaps Greece? It was definitley hot. Conveniently, Dracula covered your ears every time the captain spoke so that you truly had no idea where you were headed. The mystery was a little scary, but you trusted Dracula. When the plane touched down, Dracula helped you grab the things that you needed to take with you and laced his fingers with yours.

He gestured for you to walk in front of him and you complied easily. You wondered what lay beyond the door of the aircraft. What country were you in? The sun burst through the door as it opened and the second you stepped out, a blazing heat smacked you in the face. You squinted.

“Where are we, then?” You inquired, making your way down the steps.

“[First], my darling, benvenuto a bella Italia.”

“What?!” You turned, looking at him in surprise. You were in Italy?!

“Ci, la mia adorabile moglie,” his Italian was flawless.

“What does that mean?”

“Never you mind. Now keep going, we’re holding the plane up.”

~^*^~

It turned out that Dracula somehow had a licence to drive in Italy (you didn’t inquire on how he acquired said licence) and you were speeding down winding roads, past beautiful fields and the occasional white limestone building. During the drive, you had gotten bored and had turned the radio, belting out the lyrics to the songs that you knew.

“But it’s just the price I pay! Destiny is calling me! Open up my eager eyes~! I’m Mr. Brightside!”

Draucla was laughing at your singing, the drop top making your hair whip in the wind that came with the speed of the car. He didn’t know how you had memorised so many song lyrics over your short life, but you sure knew a lot. You were clearly in your own little world, so happy. He couldn’t help but smile. Here he was, driving towards what could only be described as a palace on the cliffs, with you - the most beautiful person inside and out that he had ever encountered in all of his years. Life had finally decided to treat him well.

The sun made your hair glisten, your eyes sparkle and your skin glow. You looked like a goddess.

To the left, cliffs were appearing and a turquoise sea of gentle rolling waves welcomed you to the beautiful country. Within the next 20 minutes, Dracula was pulling up outside of a beautiful home set into the cliffs and he couldn’t wait to get you inside.

“Is this where we’re staying?” You asked with a very unconcealed hint of surprise in your voice.

“Do you like it, my darling?”

“It’s... huge!”

“Yes, well, we wouldn’t want to be all cooped up, would we? Shall we go inside?”

The inside of the home was just as grand as it’s exterior. Bursting with light, every room was decorated so sophisticatedly. It had a very distinct feel to it, obviously meant to look rather antique and yet it was all still shiny and new. You peeked in every room, the kitchen surprising you with not one but two ovens (an gorgeous in—house oven and a more standard fan), and the bedroom has a gorgeous balcony that overlooked the sea.

“So, where are we?” You asked, turning into the bedroom to look at Dracula who was just placing your bags down.

“Italy.”

“No, I know that. I mean where in Italy?”

“We are just off of Montreosso al Mare.”

“Montreosso al Mare, huh?”

“Yes, darling,” he turned to you. The light caught his eyes and hair, “now what do you say about going to the beach?”

Your face lit up and you were fast to come back inside and begin opening bags.

“Wait,” you froze, “I don’t think I even have a bathing suit.”

Your unfortunate situation lead to having to drive to Levanto where there was a small boutique (you checked beforehand) that sold apparel. Dracula opted for sit in the car, but graciously handed you some money to indulge yourself. You spent quite a while inside, unable to decide on what you wanted. You were curious as to Dracula’s reaction upon seeing you in said bathing suit. He probably didn’t realise just how... revealing they could be.

Picking out one, a wicked smile made its way into your face. This would be fun.

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