#claes bang fic

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XXIII]

Word count: 4k

Warnings: the usual // +18

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link | masterlist

Summary: Reader gets ready for the opera and Dracula thinks he has a moment of postnut clarity. Our girl is done with his shit.

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At the white glare of a morning cloudy sky, my eyes opened, quite unwillingly. I opened my mouth to ask Dracula to close the curtains when I noticed his absence and smiled at my own blunder. The covers at my side still held the shape of his body where he lay so the sunrise couldn’t have been more than an hour ago.

I slipped out the bed glancing at the clock and saw it was almost 8am already. My alarm hadn’t gone off and I’d slept in more than usual. A shower should startle me awake. 

As I undressed in my bathroom, my shirt chafed at my back and the memory of being massaged, or almost skinned considering his brutality -- although surprisingly enjoyable -- returned. I turned my back on the mirror and tried to look over my shoulder to see the state of my skin. Not a mark in sight, though it glistened as if the skin was raw and new. Reaching, I experimented with feeling it with the tips of my fingers. I hissed when a nail accidentally scraped it but other than that, it felt only a bit sensitive. It was a small bother compared to the head splitting migraine from last night. When the hot water from my shower hit my back, I expected it to burn upon contact with the apparently new skin there. Instead I found it rather helped. My body throbbed as if the flow of hot water made my heart beat faster and the skin on my back to grow thicker. 

After I showered, dressed myself and ate breakfast, I pulled the dress I would be wearing for the night out of the closet and laid it carefully over the bed. 

It would be hours until I would have to squeeze myself in there, but I felt an inexplicable urge to stare at it while I worked. 

At 9am sharp my phone lit up with Hayes calling. I let it ring. At 10am another call. At 12pm, it was time for Chambers to call. Talbot called at 2pm, Hayes again at 2.30pm. Renfield called at 4pm and I answered. 

“Y/N, for Christ’s sake, will you answer one of them? They call me when you don’t answer and they’re driving me mad!”

“Hi, Renfield,” I said in my most pleasant voice. “How are things going for the party?”

“Y/N, it’s no time to be a brat.”

“I’m doing well, yes, thanks for asking!”

He sighed heavily.

“I expect you are. Dracula arrived this morning minutes short of sunrise.”

His answer shook me straight out of my urge to annoy him just for the fun of it. Not only did that mean he had welcomed Dracula into his own penthouse – and possibly spent the night there, on the couch, waiting for him like a dog – Renfield had implied much more through his words. Although nothing had happened last night and I was a grown woman, I flushed in embarrassment.

“They won’t take no for an answer and I am in no mood today to listen to their ravings,” I spit out to disguise my mood.

“They gave you a week.”

“I’m giving myself another day.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Yes, and I can say no to them at your party, where they won’t be able to annoy me for hours on end. I have work to do, you know, I can’t spend an hour saying no over and over to Hayes.”

“Fair,” he admitted. “Shall I tell them that? That you’ve asked for a stay of proceedings?”

“Those are kind words but yes, tell them that.” I leant back on my chair and straightened up at once as my skin was pulled tautly over my spine. “Ow.”

“Ow?” Renfield echoed. 

“Nothing,” I said as I stood up from my chair and started pacing around the room. “Is Dracula awake yet? The sun is starting to set.”

“Asleep. Before he went to bed, he mentioned that he would be picking you up at 8.”

“Oh. Good, hm.” How awkward was this? “How are the preparations for the party tomorrow coming along?” I repeated, silently cursing myself.

“Fantastic,” Renfield said shortly. “Y/N, piece of advice… call the police if you’re worried about being stalked by Zoe’s people. Scotland Yard doesn’t need to know the whole story, only that you’re being watched and feel threatened.”

I opened my mouth to fight it, out of sheer need of countering the simplicity of his argument, but, simple as it was, it could prove effective. 

“Dracula told you?”

“He asked me to keep an eye on you during daylight. I can’t be with you all hours and the police will prove more able than I should Zoe decide to take action, which I doubt will happen. Yet, it would set the master’s mind at ease. And mine, as well,” he completed. 

“Okay. I’m sure the police have their hands full of lawyers with death threats, but I’ll give them a call this afternoon.” I sighed. “It can’t hurt to give them a description of Raoul as well.”

“You do that. Enjoy your date at the opera tonight.”

The phone became mute before I thought of an answer. 

____________________________________________________

“Oof!” I made for the second time.

“Oh, so sorry, dear,” Diana said between gritted teeth, peering over my shoulder to look at me through the mirror’s reflection. She tugged again and my waist gained a cinched shape that made me gasp. “I didn’t tighten that much- oh. Oh.” She seemed to comprehend that this time I hadn’t gasped for air, but out of surprise. The both of us stared at my body reflected in the mirror. Not a piece of clothing in my closet flattered me this much. The corset bustier forced my posture into a severe elegance that suited me. I didn’t know my waist could look like that or that my breasts, although suffering from PMS aches squeezed in there, looked sexy instead of whorish. 

“Pity I’m not a man,” Diana murmured, raising her eyebrows as if in contemplation, and making me laugh. “Honestly! And you said Dracula bought you this? You didn’t try it on beforehand?”

I shook my head, and she nodded hers, still a little transfixed. Admittedly, I was too as I ran my hands down my sides, feeling the accentuated curve from my waist down my hips. I turned around, sweeping my hair away, and gazed at the laced up bustier digging into my back. The skin still had a light sheen to it but hours since the abuse it had taken, the soreness and sensitivity had subsided to a faint tingling. 

Diana left me to twirl in front of my reflection and went to rummage through the things scattered on my bed. 

“What time is it?” I asked as I leaned to the mirror, pushing my eyelashes up with my fingertips as if that could have the power to curve them even more than mascara had.

“Uh, seven forty. He should be getting here in a few. Try these on with the choker,” she said, turning around from the bed with both her hands held out. A pair of teardrop earrings made of mother-of-pearl blinked at me from her left hand. In her right hand, a thin band of black velvet trimmed with lace of the same colour. Small, delicate pearls stood on the tips of the lace and a large pearl dangled on the centre of the choker. “I must have worn this once or twice. Don’t think I have the neck for it, although it’s very pretty.”

“Where did you get it?” I asked, taking the choker from her.

“Antiquity store quite a while back. The shop owner said it’s Italian but I don’t know how honest he was.” She shrugged. “Let me help you with it,” she said, extending her hand for it.

For a second, I started pulling my hair up, but then I remembered myself.

“I’ve got it.” I smiled. “You know, I think it’s quite cold outside. I’m worried the stole won’t do it. Do you have something else to lend me? If not, I think I’ll take my trench coat…”

“Trench coat with that dress?! I’ll lock you up for that. No, no, no…” she trailed off, already heading for the bedroom’s door. “I’ll find you something.”

With Diana gone, I turned to the mirror again. I hooked the earrings to my earlobes quickly and twisted my hair up in a knot so I could work the clasp on the choker. My eyes lingered on the light serrated scars on each side of my neck. The freshest one sparked alive when the choker brushed it, sending a shiver to my spine that finished in a ball below my navel.

I drew a breath in.

I knew that feeling. 

Shaking my hair down, I shoved my phone in a tiny purse where the tickets were already safely kept, grabbed the pair of Louboutin’s waiting for me by my dresser and practically pranced down the stairs to the first floor. I stopped on the last step, staring at the bottom of the front door, balancing on one leg at a time to fit the shoes on. 

The pull on my navel tightened a moment before a light flickered on beneath the front door. 

There were only hours since I last saw Dracula but excitement filled me either way as I turned the doorknob. Smiling big, I swung the door open to reveal him filling the doorframe. 

“You’re early,” I told him but I barely registered my own words. 

I stared at Dracula. He stared back. 

I think he said something, that, again, I didn’t register.

A black striped silk scarf was draped around his shoulders, falling down his chest to frame a magnificent damask burgundy waistcoat, half concealed by the long suit jacket. The matte black tie contrasted against the white shirt. With the sheen of the scarf and waistcoat, the effect was rather striking. The light hitting the scarf and the imposing wideness of his shoulders inside that suit kept stealing my attention to form a more elaborate response than simply staring stupidly.

To my delight, he seemed a little lost for words as well. But instead of staring continuously as I did, he stepped forward and seized my waist in his hands. I felt the weight of them. Dracula lowered his face to mine. I pressed my lips to his only to amuse him but turned my cheek when he tried for something more.

“I just finished doing my makeup,” I told him as he kissed my earlobe. “Let’s not ruin it before we go out.” 

A low rumble came from him - whether in agreement or not, I couldn’t tell - and, as if dropping the subject entirely, he forced me round with a twist to my waist. My feet tangled over each other. Gasping in surprise, I had to lean into him so I wouldn’t tumble and he took that as an opportunity to follow the deep curves of my waist to the rest of my body. His left hand drifted down to my hip and lingered there as he apparently detected something to his interest. Exploring still, his hand slid back to gather a firm grip on my ass. 

“You seem to be lacking something,” he stated, almost matter-of-factly as if he wasn’t veritably groping me.

“Very perceptive,” I taunted. Dracula squeezed my ass again, his fingers biting into the inside of my buttock. I let out a strangled noise as I tried to shift away from his grip but once he released me, the lingering touch was more pleasurable than painful. “Underwear doesn’t go with this dress,” I panted. “It shows through the fabric.” 

“Really?” His tone was almost disinterested as both hands were now uptaking the task of exploring each and every curve of my hips. Then, his lips were on my exposed shoulders, rovering over my back. I shivered and bent my back at the feel of his lips on the fresh skin. “Do you mind being late?”

“No, but I do mind showing up looking a mess.” I turned my head to look over my shoulder at him. His eyes, hungry and red, were on my throat. I grabbed his face to make him focus and he met my gaze. I understood by his look alone that he didn’t really care about the opera or me looking a mess. 

The creak of the back door opening dissipated the moment as Dracula glanced up in alertness. Quick steps sounded from the kitchen to the hall. I stepped away from Dracula, trying to disguise that we were moments away from tearing each other’s clothes off.

“Y/N, I’ve got just the thing-” Diana cut her phrase short as she appeared from behind the stairwell and saw us. She cast the coat she held over an arm. “Oh.” The brown in her eyes appeared dull for a fraction of a second, but a polite smile curved her mouth and gave life to her face. She glanced between Dracula and I. 

“Di, this is Count Dracula. He was a bit early,” I added, as if that was meant to remedy the awkwardness. “She was very excited to meet you,” I told Dracula and I wondered how I made the words sound so casual. “I’ll spare many introductions. You both know a lot about each other already because of me.”

Ever the gentleman, Dracula took Diana’s hand and kissed it. She looked at me as he did so and I shrugged in unspoken conversation - “really?” “told you”.

“She talks a lot about you,” Diana said when he let her go. “But meeting the man is always quite different from knowing of him.”

“Always,” he agreed, smiling down at her. “I hope I didn’t hurt your expectations.”

“You’re exactly what I expected,” she replied quickly, a frozen smile on her mouth. I narrowed my eyes. “Count, what do you think of lunch on Saturday? It would be lovely to have you over and get to know Y/N talks about so often.”

“My mornings are eternally busy, I’m afraid, and this Saturday I’ll be hosting a party at my home. I’m sure Y/N’s told you-” he looked at me and I nodded in confirmation “-you should come. If you want to evaluate me, and I do believe that’s what you want to do, you can do so there.”

Diana laughed. I was sure it was the laugh she used for corporate meetings - polite, short and a little contemptuous. 

“I’ll come.” She stepped aside from him and handed me the coat. Heavy black and grey fur caressed my skin as I threw it over me. “Don’t want to be late. Tell me all about it later?”

With that and a last surveying look at Dracula, Diana made her way back and left with the same creak of the closing door.

“She doesn’t like you,” I blurted as he turned to me.

“She knows something is off about me,” he said, grabbing the doorknob. “I don’t think she remembers what I did, as you suspect.”

“That’s comforting,” I replied, although it was not. 

Cutting, bone-chilling wind put Diana out of my mind as we stepped out into the night and I locked my door. When I turned around, I found Count Dracula holding the passenger door of his car open for me. My gaze lingered on the cufflinks on his outstretched arm, the dark rubies winking at me under the streetlights, and the waistcoat tight over his torso, accentuating his noble posture. He narrowed his eyes with a slight tilt of his head as I continued staring. Then the wind slipped under my coat and I was reminded of the freezing cold. I rushed past him, fumbling to throw my keys inside my purse, and took my seat on the passenger side. 

Dracula slid beside me with a slam to his door. He opened his jacket to sit more comfortably and flipped the ignition. We shot through the road. His legs underlined the fabric of his trousers as he changed gears. Lean muscles tensed and relaxed as I watched. The light coming and going from outside barely highlighted his profile with how darkly tinted the windows were.

“What did you do to me last night?” I questioned, observing him.

“Healed you,” he replied.

“With a massage?” I scoffed. 

He glanced at me.

“A massage,” he repeated, and chuckled in that way I hated so much, like he knew something I didn’t. “Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Why should I?” He asked, leaning back in his seat as he held the wheel with only one hand. 

“Because I’m asking you to.”

Again, he chuckled. 

“No.”

With his square shoulders set back, his body relaxed as he drove in feigned concentration. 

I did remember, at least, I thought I did. But something was missing. He knew it and wouldn’t give me the answer. What he wouldn’t give, I would take.  

“Make a right here,” I said, giving into impulse.

“But this is the quickest way,” he replied even as he obeyed me.

“There are tolls on that road.” I kicked my shoes off. My heartbeat accelerated. 

He smirked.

“And your point is?” He prodded.

“You would have to lower your window at some point.” I removed my seat belt, bent my legs under me as far as the dress would allow and leaned across the centre console. Dracula turned his head to look at me as my chin rested on his shoulder. “I can’t have that right now,” I breathed. “Eyes on the road.”

For a moment too long, he stared deep into my eyes, his smirk growing into a smile as he fully understood my intention, then he raised his left arm to give me space and put his eyes back on the road. 

Keeping my lips to his ear, I reached between his legs, feeling the most promising outline of his cock through his trousers growing rigid to my touch. I took his earlobe between my teeth. He tilted his head in response, shoulders tensing and relaxing as a chill came and went through him. I undid his trousers carelessly. The steering wheel let out a sound of complaint as Dracula tightened his hand around it. To my utter fascination, I saw that he had his bottom lip caught between his teeth. My hand drifted lower, fingers brushing against the distinct hardness hidden beneath the fabric of his boxers. He exhaled. Content, I pushed his underwear aside and bent down, settling on my knees and elbows so I could reach him and bestow a generous lick down his length. I taunted him with licks and brushes of lips and in return, he twisted my hair around his hand.

“Put your tongue out,” he said between his teeth. 

Opening my mouth, I did. He raised his hips slightly as he forced my head down. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced my tongue out as far as it would go to stop myself from choking as he hit the back of my throat. He thrust upward once again with complete disregard, past my defences, and I pulled back, gasping for breath. A sound between a groan and a laugh came from him. 

Mocking laughter. 

Grasping him tightly, I brought the soft contours of the head of his cock to my tongue. Dracula kept a firm hold over my hair as I fell into rhythm. Tears nearly leaking out of my eyes, I took as much of him as I could down my throat. Drool cascaded out of my mouth as I pulled back. I stroked his cock and left sloppy kisses along his shaft as I tried to catch my breath. Rasping groans escaped from him. He sounded the same way when he was inside me, and my body responded. My breasts felt heavier, my nipples puckered to hypersensitivity, and my loins swelled while wetness slicked my inner thighs. That arousal made me move my head a little faster, drawing on him harder. His grip on my hair tightened. 

The car swerved and jostled to a stop. I started lifting my head but he raised his hips and held me still. 

“Ahh, good.” 

Something about the way he spoke seemed to sink in and I took his cock deeper as I tried desperately to suck and breathe at the same time. My hair was released for a brief second before being pulled again, guiding my head to his own pace. A large hand, the one that was supposed to be steering the car before, began traversing down my back only to find rest on my ass sticking up in the air. “Again, pet.” Eyes filled with tears, gagging and choking, I obeyed, if only to hear him moan again in that way that seemed both demanding and pleading. “Good, good,” he said, and I thought ‘more, more’. 

His groans became louder until they reverberated inside the car. I felt his legs tremble, heard a breath leave his body when it didn’t belong there, felt his fingers digging on my behind, and then tasted him on my tongue as his groans subsided. Still, I kept him encased inside my mouth, attempting to drain all that he could give.

He pulled my head back by the roots of my hair and raised me to eyelevel. I swallowed hurriedly, before I let anything spill, as I continued grasping his cock. It was a shiny, slobbery mess. 

My chest heaved with deep, rewarding breaths. Gaze turning to the man at my side, I found him with his head resting back, eyes shut. Fangs loomed behind his parted lips. 

“Such a brat,” he sighed.

“Brat?” I prodded, stroking his cock slowly. He tensed.

“You’ll do anything to get what you want.” He chuckled, showing me more serrated white teeth. 

“Well? Have I earned it?”

“I spoil you too much.”

A racket of noise from outside filtered in and I let go of him in alarm, recoiling to sit on my ankles, before I realised it was people leaving a pub down the street where the car was parked.

Dracula adjusted himself, apparently unbothered by the interruption, and wiped a hand down his trousers. 

“You’re still scared of me,” he murmured, as he continued analysing his trousers.

That was his response after that?

“I’m not,” I protested at once. 

“What did I do to you yesterday, Y/N?” He asked, turning his face toward mine too quickly. His face was unnervingly closer than a fraction of a second before. My heart pumped harder. But not with fear. I wouldn’t allow that.

“Healed me,” I repeated his own words back.

“How?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. I opened my mouth to give him an acidic answer. “Think. You are much too clever.”

“You bit me,” I breathed out without a second thought. “Several times,” I completed as I thought of the cold pressure on my back. But no scars to attest to that fact, which meant he had licked all the wounds away, as he had once done to my breast. If I was right, that justified the feeling of raw skin on my back.

“I didn’t drink your blood, though. Not much of it.”

The corners of my lips curled.

“And you think I forgot about it- rather, I erased it from my memory because I’m still scared of you? Please.”

“I bit you repeatedly last night and you have no memory of it,” he said.

“Didn’t feel like bites. It felt a lot like-” a clear image of Dracula hovering over my back, sharp teeth biting and pulling my skin to meet the cold and cavernous inside of his mouth. Blood coalescing but not being drawn to pour. “Cupping.” A questioning look appeared in his eyes. “Alternative medicine, that’s what you did. It’s used to draw sickness out and clean toxins,” I finished, divided between wanting to find it fascinating and funny. “You learned it from the Turks.” I gave him a smile. “It’s very popular now.”

“Entirely not the point,” he muttered, and leaned back to his seat. 

“Isn’t it?” I carried on as I sat straight. “Maybe doing that on some damsel of yore could have elicited some kind of- what? Horrified and disgusted reaction? I know what you are, and it’s the 21st century as you are well aware. Not much mystery going around. So you snuck into my room, quite literally sucked the pain from my body and healed me better than medicine ever could, and I’m thankful, but not scared.” I exhaled harshly. “I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself. I’m not bloody scared of you. Stop trying to test me and push me away.”

I angled the rearview mirror towards me. My makeup was mostly intact, which was somewhat of a miracle. My hair on the other hand was a different story. 

Dracula’s black gaze was fixed on mine through the mirror. Empty. It cut through my stomach.

“We’re late,” I grumbled.

Staring straight through me, he put the car in first gear, then looked away and sped off.

_____________________________________________

A/N: So, hot and (slightly) angsty, my favourite combo. He's having a hard time fully coming to terms with this relationship. He still expects her to run off. He never quite stopped believing it. And now she's like a dog with a bone :)

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In another note, I am SO excited for the next chapter!! I've been thinking about it for months and it came out exactly how I wanted to. It'll accompany a small playlist to set the tone, so you can read while listening to the pieces that inspired me.

Same time next week.

 @plutonianvenusiangoddess @rheabalaur @deborahlazaroff @thorin-smokin-shield @girlonfireice  @mr-kisskiss-bangbang  @saint-hardy  @xoxodracula  @princessayveke  @dreamer2381  @25ocurer  @vampirescurse  @blue-serendipity  @sunscreenfeverdream  @iwasjustablur  @daydreaming136  @hello-itsbarbie  @bittenlove  @newyorkrican922  @soph3228  @feralstare  @clussysposts  @jmor25  @spnkpholland  @goddessofmischief03  @mistandmoss  @luciahoneychurch  @candleslut  @theswiftnational  @soulofsalt  @werwulfy  @skelior  @cesspitoflove  @hiphop-gir  @mymindpalaceismywonderland  @lddracula ​ @festering-queen  @rainbowgoblinfan  @sweet-delila  @jar-of-moondust

[xquantifiablybitchy]

Okay so I know there's divided opinion on how good an adaptation Moffat and Gatiss' Dracula was but I loved it and I am shamelessly in love with Claes Bangs performance, so to that end I wrote a thing (and intend to keep writing the thing, if life doesn't throw me another curve ball)

If you do read it and like it, I absolutely welcome interaction either on AO3 or here!

[didireadthisright]

A random rant about Dracula

Disclaimer: some BBC Dracula spoilers

~◇~

Right, so after a good year, I've decided to rewatch the 2020 bbc Dracula show because it's still on Netflix, and I had a really good time watching it the first time.

Can we all agree that this show would have 100% gotten a season renewal if the third episode just never happened and shows like BIG MOUTH didn't hog the spotlight? Like Claes Bang as Dracula was such a fantastic casting choice. I adored Agatha Van Helsing (I just love a faithless nun trope). The costume and setting design are just so detailed. I would have loved to see how Dracula would have prowled around 18th century England!

Don't get me wrong, there were some good bits in the third episode. How Drac navigates the modern world has its humorous moments, and Zoe was nearly as much of a joy to watch as Agatha. But overall, I feel like the direction taken was poorly executed. It almost felt like a bit of an afterthought compared to the first two episodes with the amount of plot holes it had (granted, the first two episodes had the original book to use as a reference, whereas the third was complete fan fiction at this point). I feel like the murder mystery portion of the second episode should have become more prominent in the show because it's just so fun and so frustrating watching the villian get away (insert the NBC Hannibal show).

Overall, I really enjoyed this series, I wish the fandom was a bit more alive, but I also understand why it is quite well... dead. There's a lot to love and a lot that is pretty meh due to awkward writing. I think if the show settled with ONE timeline throughout the series and then bounced around for flashbacks, that would have been a lot better.

~◇~

That's my rant. Thanks for reading if you got this far. Your sacrifice of time and braincells is very much appreciated. Who knows, maybe if I'm motivated enough, I might attempt to write my own fic to finally give my mind some sense of closure when it comes to this show.

BYE

[discordsmuse]

will you write more of the dracula fic? claes bang’s Dracula is so underrated (and hot lol). Thank youu

This is the precise dracula I was picturing in Nice costume, even though I was trying to keep it vague so people could imagine their Drac of choice. I ADORE Dracula (2020) and have been thinking about continuing the fic or doing another dracula related one-shot. I keep getting hit w/writers block but he's definitely been on my mind!

[crazytxgradstudent]

There needs to be a fic written about this blue sweater and that watch. Someone needs to make it happen, and it ain’t gonna be me 😂

@hoefordarkness @theatricalbride @bloodspatteredprincess

[ladyhaley28]

Van Helsing adjusts to her new life accordingly.

She satisfies herself, but the Count has other ideas.

"You only need ask."

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

This is the part 2 of the His (Second) Queen series! The first one is How the (Second) Queen Came To Be.

Two things in one day, damn I’m tired.

[theplumsoldier]

eyes on me

summary: @yaziee wanted some drac smut so heres a lil something. hope its enough to quench the thirst! pairing: dracula x reader word count: 664 warning: explicit (18+); masturbation, voyeurism.

To Dracula seemingly every situation could be entertaining in some way. After all, you only have the fun you make. He was no hard man to please, especially not to you. Your very presence was enough to calm him, but this time, as he was sitting in the bedroom, working, in the middle of the night, he certainly was not calm.

A blood-red drink in a crystal glass in hand, a pen in the other, and several papers scattered before him, Dracula was currently working through some legal papers. At the light of a dim lamp and a candlestick, he tried his best not to wake you from your sleep.

A couple of hours ago, he had lied with you in the bed, letting you cuddle up against him as you liked to do until you fell asleep. When a soft snore rang through the room, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, before he cautiously left you to dream and stole to work.

But you tossed and turned, leaning to the dip in the bed where his body had earlier rested, and you hugged to his pillow, inhaling the sweet smell of macadamia and almond butter. You smiled cheekily into the memory foam, reminded of how he would use your shampoo, smell your perfumes, and would cue a slideshow of all the pictures of you that could be found in his camera roll.

Despite living through most of his life depending on the blood of prey, he was one big softie.

Dracula heard you moan out, groaning, and then shifting, the creaking of the bed. He did not have to turn around to know you were awake.

"Baby, won't you come snuggle?"

He chuckled deeply, turning in the chair, slouching down and lifting the glass to his lips, letting his eyes roam over your barely covered figure. Your eyes were heavy-lidded, a shine from the thin layer of sweat on your sleepy face, and only the cover only hiding your sex from view. He tasted the blood, thinking to himself you looked like a goddess of purity. But that did not fool him. He knew you better than that.

"I wanna feel you," hummed you, trailing your hand down the valley of your breasts. It was not supposed to be sexually alluring, but meant as a nice caress, imagining the way his hands molded you every night.

"You want to feel me?" chuckled he, his bold eyebrows perking up with a sly smirk, preening in your neediness.

You nodded, moving the pillow and comforter and tapped the spot beside you.

"Feel yourself for me."

Although a pout curled your lip, you could not deny the increased heartbeat banging on your ribcage.

Teasing your finger around your perk nipple, you shifted under the cover, using your feet to pull it lower and lower. Dracula's chin lifted ever so slightly, his dark eyes peeking a look at your already glistening cunt.

Drawing your finger index finger through your folds, a slickness soaked you, allowing you to easily circle your clit.

"Baby," moaned you, longingly, wanting nothing more than him to take over.

"Just like that, my love, keep it up. Eyes on me."

Moving a bit up the pillow, you followed his instructions and watched your man and noticed his finger dipping in the blood. That could be you he was fingering.

Doubling the pressure, your back arched and toes curled, a whimper, or was it a cry, escaping you. You could hear the sounds of your juices, his breathing, too. Clenching around the air, you wet a finger with your arousal and licked it into your mouth.

Sucking hard, you twirled your tongue around the flesh, moaning at the taste of yourself. You had not noticed you had closed your eyes in pleasure, until they opened when you heard him move, whisper "fucking hell", and before you knew it he was rid of all he was clad and bottomed out in your cave.

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[killrqueen7]

I’m not entirely sure what possessed me to write it but have some Dracula squishin’and smashin’

Dracula stares up at you, eyes dark and pupils blown as he takes you in. Never, in all his years, had he imagined he’d be staring up at a woman while inside her body. In his natural day, he’d had his fill of the human form, men and women alike, but even they lay beneath his powerful body as he filled and stretched them out. But here you are, taking him as if he belongs to you. 

Your blood sings to him, pumping quickly, but rhythmically behind the curve of your breast. His palm slides between them for a moment, if only just to feel the rapid pump of your most precious muscle as your hips lift from his lap and then press back down to a beat that doesn’t quite match, but is no less beautiful. 

As you impale yourself again and again on the vampire’s impressive girth, Dracula’s nails bite into the soft skin if your thighs. His skin is warm, fresh off a feed, and he almost looks sweaty and flushed. But perhaps that is your sweat, lingering on his handsome face from when you’d had his nose pressed against your throat. The trust you displayed in him drives him wild. 

Your palms press hard against his broad and furry pectorals as your hips rock and work him deeper. His dark eyes never leave your face for a moment, cataloging every bite of your lips and every tiny micro-expression that reveal just how good you feel in his lap. You actually notice the bed rocking with some force, Dracula sliding up and down the pillow with every forward roll.

He stares at you with such intensity, and it lights something up inside you. Something warm. Something that makes you feel like the most beautiful, seductive creature in the world. A couple locks of dark hair stick to his forehead and gently, as if you are soothing him with soft words and softer touches instead of riding him for his life, you brush them away and further, card your fingers back through thick hair. 

The corners of his full lips curl up slightly, the sharp points of his teeth just barely visible in that charming, surprised smile. He is beautiful like this, completely at your mercy - though he could easily flip you onto your back if he wanted to. That smile reminds you of all the times you’ve longed for him; all the times he’d leaned down into your space, searching for your eyes after paying you a wonderfully worded compliment. In some ways, that smile makes you even hotter for him and you are almost sad to see it disappear. It morphs into an open mouthed gasp as you tighten down around his cock, involuntarily, simply in response to the way he’s looking at you.

“Oh..” It almost comes in a whisper, teasing you with just the hint of what he must sound like when he truly lets go. 

“Yes,” you beg, curling your fingers against his chest. You slide down his length slowly, squeezing your inner muscles the entire way. There is so much of him. “Please, moan for me. Anything. I want to hear you.“ 

Dracula grunts at the sound of your voice and the feeling of your heat squeezing at his every inch. He closes his eyes, trying hard to hold himself back. He wants this to last for as long as he can. He’s never felt so alive.

Stilling your hips, despite the overwhelming urge to keep going, you grab his chin and tilt his head back down. "No. Keep looking at me.”

The Count opens his eyes, but also bares his teeth and gives a soft growl, reminding you for just a moment of how dangerous he truly is. You have a monster beneath you; death itself, many would say. He could tear you to shreds and pick his teeth with your bones.

You smile, stroking his chin with your thumb, gently dragging the pad of it across his bottom lip. Close enough to be dangerous. “There it is, that’s exactly what I wa-ah!" 

You are rudely interrupted by the snap of Dracula’s hips, pulling out and sinking back inside you. The force of it lifts you up and he holds you there, fingers bruising, as he takes what he wants. 

The vampire doesn’t stop growling, however; he is feral with it. His eyes are even darker now that you’ve pushed him to this and well…control felt good while it lasted. But this, this feels like nirvana. 

His hands lift you so easily, supporting your back as it shifts and bows. He even seems to be pulling you back against him; keeping you from floating right up to the heavens. Nothing you say is coherent but he fills your head with all sorts of pretty things.

"Is this what you wanted?”

“You know I could tear you in half, don’t you?" 

"You’re mine.”

Your entire body trembles, tense as a bow string as he punches gasps out of you with his hips. Dracula slides his hand down your body, allowing his nails to catch slightly but never break the skin. Finally, it reaches his goal and the pad of his thumb circles your most sensitive spot; a spot that you hadn’t realized had been throbbing for attention until now. 

He rocks his thumb against your clit and chuckles darkly when you hold his hand in place and begin grinding your sex against it. 

Heat begins to build in the pit of your stomach, gripping your pelvis tight. Something intense coils inside you, growing tighter with every brush of Dracula’s thumb against your clit. You are overheating, trembling, and making tiny, desperate noises as the edge approaches faster and faster. 

He can see that you are close, taking you in. Every noise makes him smile; the sight of you dangling on the edge was art. The sounds you made were music. 

“Let go,” He whispers, the end catching in a growl, “I want to feel you finish.”

Suddenly, the whole world goes white, the pressure that had been building in your core unraveling and crashing over you like a wave. You grip Dracula’s arms as you come, squeezing his cock like a vice. 

In your ecstasy, you fall against Dracula’s chest, panting like you’d run a full mile. Dracula continues lazily pushing himself into you, nails carefully curling into your hips as he grows closer and closer. 

He presses his nose into your hair when he comes, throbbing inside you as he groans from deep in his chest. The feeling of having him inside you, his arms looped around you and holding you flush, it is safe. It is warm. All of the things he shouldn’t be. 

You’re breathing hard, and it should be unsettling that he isn’t breathing at all, but it isn’t. He distracts you with his hands, brushing them up and down your back. 

“Your heart is beating so fast.” Dracula chuckles and he buries his face further into your hair, taking a long pull of your scent. 

You smile against his chest, gently patting the hair that tickles your cheeks. There’s a pleasant ache in your groin and Dracula is still nestled comfortably inside, sitting through the occasional muscle contractions around him. It’s a good, full feeling that is replicated in your heart. “That’s your fault." 

"Mmm, I’m not sorry." 

You lift your head to look at him and he meets your eyes with a soft, almost sleepy smile. Your hand moves up to gently push back some of his stray hairs, stroking gently at his temple and cheek. "Then you’re not forgiven,” you tease and press a kiss against those lips. His large hand moves to cradle your face, the movement of your lips slow and intimate. 

Because you need to breathe, you pull back and meet those dark eyes. How this gentle, affectionate man was once a feared and fierce warlord…well, it isn’t clear in this moment, at least. 

“Are you hungry?” You ask.

“Darling…for you? Always." 

Dracula moves to kiss at your throat, tongue moving gentle against the raised scar there. When his razor-sharp teeth pierce your skin, you feel him begin to stiffen, once again, inside you.

Gif by @sku77​ can be found here! (I couldn’t find this exact one in the gif search)

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader}

Masterlist

~^*^~

The fog that had settled overnight was nothing short of opaque. Thick and with an amber tinge, it seemed to cast a curtain between the north cliffs and the harbour, and, the North Sea, of course. However, a little fog wasn’t going to get in the way of any business or any vendor today as people still busted about the small seaside town, getting on with life.

Your feet carried you over the swing bridge and down to Bridge Street, where shops began to open by pulling up their shutters and the owners looking out expectantly as the small clusters of customers waiting to come in. Instead of following the road round to find yourself on the other side of the mouth of the River Esk, you abruptly turned left up to Church Street, where the cobbled road made walking just that little less easier. The boutiques here were also opening up, doors unlocking and shutters ascending to be concealed by the concrete above the windows.

Although the fog that had seemingly come from nowhere overnight, the humid summer air still clung to the streets and made a sheen of sweat grow on your skin. The walk from the viaduct, all the way down the cinder track and even this far was quite a trek when it got warm. 8am, a foggy day and you were still panting from the heat? Something wasn’t right.

But then again, you had read in the news this morning that a strange man had been surrounded by police on the sea front, not too far from the cliffs that hosted Whitby Abbey in the early hours of the morning. And that was the cause for your journey so early. Clutching your bag closer to your chest, you made your way past the countless Whitby Jet distributors and found yourself at the top of Church Street, eyeing the 199 steps.

“Quite a lot of exercise for first thing in the morning, no?”

You snapped your head left, eyes connecting with the blue orbs belonging to Dr. Zoe Van Helsing. Her eyes smiled at you, along with her lips that pulled up mischievously. She had caught you off-guard and she knew it. Replying to her question with a hint of sarcasm, you both began to climb the stairs. About halfway up, when the seagulls had no issue with swooping far too close to your head, you decided to pipe up and inquire about the gentleman you had been called to visit.

“Ah, you mean the Count? Yes, he is definitely a piece of work. We have a whole test group of people to come in close contact with him, however, we’d still like for you to have a chat with him, given your expertise in the area.” She turned her head to look at you expectantly.

“Well, it sounds like it’ll be a challenge. But you know me, I love a challenge.” You smirked back at her.

“We’ll see.”

When you both made it to the top of the steps, you stood to take in a deep breath of air and look back out towards Whitby. The fog was moving inland and it was getting difficult to see even the band stand, which stood overlooking the harbour on the opposite side of the mouth of the river from where you stood. There was a faint noise coming from the amusements and the sound of people slowly filling up the streets. But it was all drowned out by the roar of the North Sea, the howls of the summer winds and screeches of seagulls.

You turned once more, facing towards and beyond St Mary’s Chruch. Just further up, you could make out the peaks of Whitby Abbey. You were close. No more words were shared between the pair of you as you walked further up. You pushed past the open gates and found yourself facing the visitor centre. You turned right once more and before you, as grand as every, the Jonathan Harker Foundation.

Zoe led you through the winding halls and turns once inside and it seemed she knew the place like the back of her hand. You had only been inside a handful of times, and yet you still hadn’t acquainted yourself at all with the winding halls.

“I must warn you before we go in, so I suggest you take a seat.” Zoe began, leading you into a small room with a desk. She held the door for you as you stepped inside and reluctantly took your seat.

“You say it like it’s a life or death situation.”

“Actually, it is.” As if she had simply stated on the weather, she strode last you and slumped down into the seat opposite.

“You alright?”

“A little tired. Nothing a cup of coffee can’t fix. Now, let me explain to you a little about the gentleman we are... housing. You need to throw all of your understandings of this world out of the window. This isn’t some basic cannibal or murderer we’re dealing with.” With every word, with the seriousness of her tone, you were starting to panic.

“Ok, Zoe, you’re really starting to worry me now.”

“There’s no need to panic. You see, you will be in safe hands and there are precautions put into place to ensure your safety.”

“My safety? What on Earth, Zoe-?”

“Count Dracula, the man you will be speaking to today, is a vampire.” Your mouth dropped at the words. The absudety of it all! A real life vampire?! What nonsense!

“Ok, you’re definitely pulling my leg. There’s-...” you looked at the demeanour of her expression. Her eyes were cold, lips softly turned into a frown. She wasn’t joking.

“Count Dracula is approximately 525 years old. He spent 123 years drawing energy in a box of his own Transylvanian earth at the bottom of the before emerging last night. According to oral accounts, Dracula is the cause of one of my own ancestors deaths, along with several others on the Demeter that brought him here. You will be assessing him - just like you do with all of the other criminals you’ve worked with before. Except he isn’t a criminal. He’s a beast.”

Those last three words rung in your ears continuously as you followed Zoe down the hallway towards the room that held this beast of a man. You did not know what to expect, though the image of an old and shrivelled man concealing superhuman strength came to mind. He was over 500 years old, after all. You had read the case file after Zoe’s briefing with you, and learnt about the real mystery of the Demeter whose ruins lay on the coast line. It had come as a shock to you to learn of such things actually existing, yet you had no time to digest the information as you practically marched behind Zoe. Lining the hallway was an abundance of guards; you took notice of the fact that they were oddly guarded with crosses and stakes. Clearly all of this vampire lore turned out to be true. You wondered if Zoe had figured this out, or if it was the work of her ancestor who was murdered by the man lurking behind you door you stride towards.

“Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s like a dog - can smell fear a mile away. He feeds off of it.” These were Zoe’s last words to you before she pushed the doors open. A large room stood before you, with a glass square in the centre perched on a circular stage rising maybe a foot higher than the rest of the floor. Inside the box, a desk, and standing in the corner, hidden in the shadows, a looming figure. Zoe spoke again, “you may close the skylight. Let him come to us.”

As if her words were spoken by a god, the light that streamed down into the glass container began to dim as load croaks came from the ceiling. Now, he was free to roam his transparent prison. Your eyes locked on his form, watching as he slowly prowled forwards. His nose twitched and pulled his head up. He was taking in a scent.

“Ah, I see you’ve brought me another new appetiser.” His smirk was plastered over his face and you were finally able to take in his features.

He was nothing of your imagination. Nothing close. He was a towering 6’4” with ebony locks styled up and out of his face. Matching thick eyebrows kept watch over darkened eyes and although his face was clearly mature, it was built well and prominent with masculinity. This, paired with the tailored suit he wore (where on Earth he had managed to acquire such clothing, you hadn’t a clue) screamed danger. It screamed warning. He was sophisticated; he was inviting; that meant he was dangerous. His feet carried him towards the glass panel closest to you and he pressed his long, thick hands up against the glass.

“I can smell her from here.” His smirk deepened.

“Pay him no attention, [First], he’s trying to scare you.” Zoe rolled her eyes, leading you closer towards the cell.

“No, just... testing the waters.” His tone was slightly mocking. His voice was deep and somewhat sensual to the ears. It was nice, melodic voice. It was a dangerous voice. Just like the rest of him.

“Well, there’s absolutely no need. Count Dracula, this is my associate, [First].” Zoe stepped aside, allowing him better access too look you up and down. Had he been a normal male, the gaze would have been dubbed rather disgusting, eyeing you up with a sickly grin toying on his charming features. But he was not a normal male and he was gazing at you like a predator eyeing up its prey.

“Very nice to make your acquaintance, [First].” He locked his eyes with yours and you could only stand the building tension for a fraction of a second. But you continued to keep the gaze locked, wanting to prove that you were the stronger of the two of you, “oh, I like her.”

“Good. You’ll be spending a considerable amount of time with her. Now, step back so she can enter - and don’t you dare forget that we can end your pathetic existence in a second if you attempt to harm her.”

“I have been around for over 500 years, Helsing, so don’t be surprised if some things happen to slip my mind.”

“You have no reason to harm her. We have provided you with adequate nutrition.” Zoe stated plainly, leading you closer to the door.

“You humans have no reason to indulge in confections, yet you do. It’s about the satisfaction, is it not?” His eyes bore wicked holes into you. You were much too close to him now, mere meters and a thin sheet of glass separating you from him.

“I am not your confection, Count Dracula.” You narrowed your eyes, “ and believe me, you try to put a single malicious finger on me and it will be the last thing you do.”

“Ooh, feisty. You remind me of someone I once knew. Hopefully your fate will not adhere to a path similar to theirs...” he trailed off and once he realised your presence was about to accompany him, he stepped backwards, keeping his eyes locked on you.

“Do not threaten her.” Zoe warned before turning to you and placing her mouth close to your ear, “he tries anything funny, use your fingers as a makeshift cross. We’ll get you out as soon as we can.” You merely nodded, psyching yourself up for this fateful date with a real life vampire.

The ceiling opened up as the door opened in sync and you stepped over the threshold. Immediately, you were hit with an intoxicating scent of something. Pine, maybe? Or something more earthy. It filled your lungs in a matter of seconds and you took a moment to intake the scent, pleasing to your senses. 

Dracula’s eyes watched you closely as you placed your bag down beside the door as it snapped shut. Now, a triangle of light illumated the centre of the glass cell and Dracula was pinned against one dark corner.

“Come closer.” His velvety smooth voice commanded, long finger beckoning you towards him. You knew that he wouldn’t try anything here. The jeopardy to his life was too great, and so you found yourself being pulled closer towards him. In this proximity to him, you realised just how much he towered above you. His head found itself slowly rolling downwards to stay connected with your eyes and his mouth was turned upwards smugly.

You grew closer still, until all that remained between you was the barrier of light. An oddly symbolic line of goodness and of evil.

“May I?” His eyes trailed down to your hand. You looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly, “my only intention is to be chivalrous, I swear.”

“If I get even a hint of tooth-“

“You have my word that you will not.” His eyes flashed with mischief.

Oh, the way he spoke! The way he smiled! The charm oozed from him, but that was to be expected. He had over five centuries of experience under his belt in the art of charming his victims. Of course he was going to be good at it.

Hesitantly, you lifted your hand and it cut through the veil of darkness. Part of you was intruding on his side now. His cold hand slipped under your own, a tinge of freezing cold electricity running up your arm and down your spine. The smirk that had played on his lips since the very moment you stepped into the room moved towards the back of your hand, and cool lips struck your flesh.

“Compliant, I like it.” He spoke against your hand, “why don’t you come into the shadows?”

You immediately pulled your hand away, taking a large step back into the light as you did so.

“Why don’t you come into the light?” You mimicked.

“Touché.” He turned his head to look at Zoe who was standing close to the door, “where did you find this one ? She’s got a fire to her.”

“Yes, well let’s hope you don’t get burnt.” Zoe countered, ignoring his question.

You looked around the cell, mostly at the large desk in the centre where a chair sat on either side. You looked back at the count who was eyeing you up (again), clearly waiting for your next move. Taking a breath, you pondered on the recklessness of your request the followed.

“Close the skylight.”

“[First], that’s not safe!” Zoe called, alarm bells clearly ringing in her head at the million different scenarios that could play out from that action alone.

“It’s alright,” you eyed Dracula, “he won’t hurt me. He knows his place.” You glared.

“I do, do I?” His right eyebrow cocked.

“Yes. Now to make yourself comfortable. We have quite a discussion.”

When the sound of the skylight closing filled your ears, your heart began to pound. You took steps backwards in the light as it retreated, and like a slow, careful dance, he took steps forwards, like he was commander and the darkness filling the space was his army. This was a battle you were losing.

“You’ve got some nerves, haven’t you?” He lowered his voice, “trusting a vampire so easily.”

“I don’t trust you. I trust them.” You eyed the several guards stationed around the room.

“And who do you think would come out as victorious?”

“Why don’t you tell me? I want to know everything about you, Count Dracula. Now, take a seat.”

You slumped down into one of the two chairs and Dracula took the seat opposite. He sat up with a straightened back, crossing one leg delicately over the other and rested his elbow on the mahogany, and his chin in the palm of his hand.

“I can hear it.” He spoke softly, eyes once again locking with yours. Every time they did so, your heart faltered.

“Hear what?”

“The blood rushing through your veins. It was rather sweet the way it jumped when I kissed your hand. Tell me, [First], why are you putting up such a front? I can read you like an open book. You’re nervous, you’re afraid.”

“I told you. I’m not afraid. You can’t harm me because they will harm you.”

“And again, I must lead you back to the rhetorical question of who would win?”

“You believe it is you, correct?”

“Correct.” He leaned forwards, closing the gap by another inch, “well, I know. I do not believe anything.”

“Well, I know that all we have to do is open up that light once more and you’re toast. Quite literally.” He chuckled at this. A deep, booming noise that sent a chill down your spine.

“There it is again, your heart. You must be infatuated with me.”

“You wish.” You glared, “now why don’t you tell me just what happened on board the Demeter.”

“You see, to tell that story, I’d have to begin right back in Transylvania - months before I even set foot on that ship.” He noted, eyes boring into your face.

“I have already read the accounts, Count Dracula. I already know. I want to hear it from you.” You folded you arms, tryinf to control your heart rate.

“Why from me?”

“To understand you. That’s why I’m here. Surely you knew that. Just get on with it. I don’t have all day.” You unfolded your arms, your impatience beginning to get the better of you. Your fingers found their way to the edge of the table.

“Then let’s begin,” he raised his head, just enough to slip his hand down into the table. In a swift movement, his right hand had swept up your left and encased it in coolness, “when I stepped foot on the Demeter.”

It took no less than two hours for Dracula to finish his account of the Demeter and he decided to also explain what had happened after he was arrested on the beach in the early morning. The entire time, he was effortlessly attempting to charm a little of your trust into him, but from the first words that left his mouth, you knew what his game was and you wouldn’t give up. Often, his foot would brush against your own, he’d insist on eye contact, or he’d grasp your hand in his at every opportunity he could get. By the time he was finished, you were beyond pissed off with his actions, horrified with the story he had told and exhausted from trying to keep your body from ratting your true emotions out to him.

“Right,” you began, pushing yourself up from the table, “I think that will be all for today.”

“Going so soon?” He faux pouted. He rose with you, clearly trying to prove his dominance over you one more time before you left.

“Unfortunately for you, yes. I’m afraid your company has ran out for today.”

“Is she coming back again?” He looked past you, towards Helsing who was frowning deeply.

“Perhaps. Don’t concern yourself with it, though.” Zoe snapped, “come, [First], you have other appointments this afternoon.”

Turning on your heel, you began to make a b-line for the door. However, the vampire behind you had other plans and before you had even made it halfway, his icy fingers hand tangled around your wrist and kept you held in place. Your heart jumped. Your blood pounded in your ears. His lips brushed against the cartilage of your ear, a cool sensation rippling throughout the left side of your head.

“You really must work on that heart of yours, it is much too easy to pin when you’re lying.” He mumbled, the words pooling in your ear, “even now, the blood coursing your veins is pumping with some vigor. It makes me... hungry.”

You tore your body out of his grasp, turning on your heel to face him and the smug look on his face at the reaction he gained from you. The door was opened and two strong arms hailed you backwards before the door shut once more and light began to flood the cell. Your body collapsed under the pressure of the other person pulling you and your knees buckled.

“Are you alright?!” Zoe was by your side, kneeling quickly to help you up, “you!” She bellowed to the vamp, “you shall be getting only scraps today for that!”

“Now, where have I heard that before...” Dracula mused.

He watched as you practically fled the room, eyes following your every movement until the doors shut. Helsing was glaring at him.

Your feet carried you, the adrenaline pumped in your veins and it was like you knew your way back out without ever having remembering it before. At the entrance, a man dressed up a little too much was arguing with the lady sitting behind the white desk, but you could only catch a snippet as you got yourself out of the building as quickly as you could.

“...-don’t understand! I’m his lawyer!”

Later that evening, when your appointments had all been dutifully carried out, you found yourself wandering along the beach below the cliffs where Whitby Abbey stood proud. The summer air had cooled and the fog had all but dissolved into the summer air. You looked out towards the wave cut platform where rock pools had been formed, and remembered times when you were younger and had gone fossiling (usually with little luck), or waded throughout the rock pools until the sea licked the sand once more.

The dusty sky was lilac, slowly bleeding into navy the higher up you looked and the sun had already disappeared behind the horizon south of you, behind the swing bridge and beyond. The tide was completely out, the waves sounding years away as seagulls cruised the sky above, unable to find any supper for the evening. The sand was derelict apart from you.

“We meet again.” You gasped loudly, turning on your heel to come face-to-chest with a rather unfortunately familiar form.

“Wha-.. I-... how did you-?”

“Get out?” He finished your rambles amusedly, “I have connections.”

“Even though you technically haven’t been on earth for over a century?”

“Yes, despite that.”

“What is it that you want...?” You took a step back, feeling a small pebble bite the underside of your foot through the flimsy sandals you wore. His eyes bored down into yours with such an intense predatory gaze that you felt your knees buckle for the second time in the day. He grinned.

“What else? You.”

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XXIV]

Word count: 7k

Warnings: the usual // +18

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link | masterlist

Summary:

It's the opera.

It's dramatic.

It's sexy.

Here’s my silly little playlist to go with it <3

________________________________________________________________

Dracula and I walked in the hall of the Royal Opera House with our arms intertwined. 

A barrelled roof supported by white ironwork greeted us along with walls and ceiling made of glass. It reminded me of a large greenhouse. It was spacious enough to hold a large oval bar at the very centre of the room. The architecture of the hall was wildly different from the classical tones of the façade. I turned to Dracula to comment on that and to share in the simple admiration of our surroundings, and he kept his eyes fixed across the room in a clear effort to not pay attention to me.

“This is new,” I said through my teeth amidst the murmur of conversation around us. 

Men and women as finely dressed as we were stood here and there, talking with champagne flutes in hand and laughing their thoroughbred laughs. Across them, circling the oval bar, less finely dressed people stood with pints of beer, jeans and cocktail dresses. Beyond them all, stood a great flight of stairs of marble, gold and red tapestry. Again, the dissonance of architectural styles struck my eyes.

“I can do with a drink,” I said, not particularly addressing Dracula, and went for the bar. 

“What is new?” Dracula asked, tailing me.

“You ignoring me- up until a second ago,” I added. “Who would've guessed something as simple as not being scared of you would make you mad? I thought you liked that.”

I stopped at the bar, wiggling next to the middle aged couple at my side and waving a hand at a bartender to get his attention.

“It’s not that,” Dracula said behind me. 

I whirled, and sucked in a breath when I found him closer than I expected in a social gathering like this. The high countertop poked my spine.

“Well, what is it then?” I asked, regaining my composure quickly. He stared at me. Fathomless, blank stare. I much preferred the devious look on him, at least I knew what was on his mind then. “Hm?” He looked past me and I knew the bartender had to be approaching me. “Don’t shut down, you always do that when I touch on a subject you don’t like. We agreed on forever.”

“Forever,” he echoed, and smiled. “You don’t know enough about that. Champagne for tonight, darling?” He asked out of the blue.

“Rum and coke,” I muttered, checking over my shoulder if the bartender had heard me.

“One for her, none for me.” He handed a 20 pound bill over my shoulder to the bartender. “Give me your coat. I’ll go to the cloakroom and be right back.”

I turned around and let him slip the coat off me. Leaning my elbow on the countertop, I watched as Dracula dodged people and went for his left. 

Never would I think that I would be the one reassuring him of anything. In his unbreakable poise, and petulance at times, it was impossible to relate insecurity to him, but with him constantly pushing me away I couldn’t see another answer.

How could he think anything could push me away when I chose him even after all that he did? I wondered how much longer I could stand of this. Loving and not being loved back. It didn’t hurt now. It didn’t hurt that he looked at me with desire, watching me, deciphering me, craving my very life. It didn’t hurt that he promised that he was mine. It didn’t hurt that he gave me his blood as if it was the most precious thing to him. 

It did hurt that he put my love to test. That he didn’t trust it. But he had said he would try loving me. I could hang onto that.

Ice clinked in the glass placed before me. I thanked the bartender and immediately raised the drink to my lips. I winced as it went down. Not the best rum - and I had experience with bad quality rums. 

“Ego,” I muttered to myself, straightening up. Maybe that was what got Count Dracula angry; not that he was insecure – that was indeed unimaginable – but that I had somehow hurt his ego for poking fun at his method. That was plausible. And too simple. Something else was bothering him, I knew it, and had yet to find out. 

“Another one?” Said a man to my right.

I raised my head, and rolled my eyes upon seeing his leer towards me. Late 50s or perhaps early 60s with a sunburn of a missing wedding band on his left hand.

“I’m with someone,” I said curtly.

“And I can’t buy a lady a drink?”

“I’m not a lady.” I glanced at him. “Perhaps you should buy your wife a drink, and not offer them to random strangers.”

His eyes lost that forced charm and his smile was completely gone.

“Divorced.”

“Sure you are,” I scoffed. As I pushed my glass towards the bartender for a refill, I caught sight of Dracula pushing his way towards me a little more aggressively than he should. I smirked to myself. “You should really go,” I sighed, leaning towards my admirer as if to confide. As expected, his eyes fell to cleavage. “For your own good.”

“Should I?” His eyes glazed over as he looked back at my face. 

“Oh, yes. He can get jealous.”

“Who?” He asked, in that same dull-witted tone. Dracula appeared behind the man, towering over the both of us and staring daggers into my eyes. When I smiled, his jaw clenched.

“Me,” Dracula said. The man standing between us gave a start, and blinked as if he had somehow woken up from a trance and left, muttering apologies. My smile grew bigger. I silently chastised myself for enjoying his fear and Dracula’s jealousy. Petty was Renfield’s look, not mine, but it felt good. “What were you doing?”

The bartender gave me a second drink, and I took that one to my lips as I enjoyed Dracula’s murderous expression. I threw my head back as I drank, exposing all of my neckline to him. His mouth parted. I smiled as I swallowed the last of my rum and coke and held the empty glass in hand.

It didn’t hurt that he desired me. I repeated that to myself to make me feel better. 

Fed my ego. Just a little.

“Amusing myself in your absence,” I finally answered. 

Dracula unglued his eyes from my neck and stared at me. One of his eyes twitched.

“I left you alone for two minutes,” he said, and now his tone was lighter. He took the glass from me and placed it on the counter.

“I got lonely.” I pouted, patting his chest. I leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. 

“Aren’t you worried about what I can do to him?”

“No,” I said, rather sincerely, I hoped. If my heart faltered a pace as a telltale lie, I didn’t feel it. “I don’t know him, why should I care what happens to him?”

“It would be your responsibility,” Dracula carried on, although his words were marked by a slight curling of his lips that told me he found my reply amusing.

“I can’t be responsible for what you choose to do. By all means, prove to yourself that I am yours and only yours, and if that means you’ll hurt a man for flirting with me… well, what can I do?” I shrugged. Grabbing onto his hand, I pushed his sleeve up and looking at an imaginary watch on his wrist, I said, “Would you look at the time? We’re going to miss the start!”

He chuckled as he laced our hands. And just like that, he didn’t seem angry anymore and I pretended not to care about it.

Up the flight of stairs we went, balancing myself in heels sharp as needles and merely using Dracula’s offered arm as support instead of hanging onto it for dear life. The crowd started dispersing on the second landing, where the ‘Grand Tier Boxes’ were located. Ours - or should I say, Dracula’s deceased neighbours’ -  was box 37, to the left of the stage. Diamonds sparkled from the hands of women walking next to me. The cloying scent of too sweet, old perfumes forced me to breathe shallowly. A headache might ensue from such strong smells. I kept my eyes to my right in the hopes of finding the number 37 engraved in the double doors that we occasionally passed. 

What was it with rich people walking so slowly? Was it gold weighing their pockets down? 

“Is it hard for you to be among humans?” I asked Dracula. The smell was too much even for me, but perhaps his nose was keen to something other than the perfumes of old women. “Don’t you crave blood?”

“Depends. If something around me is inciting, yes. At the moment, no.” He gave the old rich ladies a scathing stare. Apparently, he disliked the perfume as much as I did.

“And what does incite you?”

He eyed me carefully. “Beauty,” he started. “Anger. Talent. Lust. Arrogance. Take your pick. Most things can make me crave life, for different reasons.”

After many tiny steps, we found box 37, the second to last box closest to the stage, waiting for us along with a man dressed flawlessly who asked to see our tickets and unlocked the door for us with a flare.

I had seen pictures from the inside of the opera and I thought maybe that would have removed the surprise when facing such beauty. Foolish thought. 

Long, long, long curtains of red velvet hung from the ceiling to pool dozens of metres down on the stage. Such a specific tone of red; one that made me think of royalty and the Queen wearing a cape of the same colour with a crown of jewels of the same red. And gold threads embellishing the curtains, gold fringes and the crest sowed, huge, in gold on the top panel. It shone so much like real gold. Yellow, and reflecting light.

“Oh, this...” I whispered, hurrying to the balcony as if the picture could escape me. “This is beautiful…” the last syllable was mostly swallowed by my wonder as I turned my head to take everything in.

The auditorium opened in a rectangular shape, becoming rounded at the back. Red and gold blinked at me from everywhere. But the ceiling, I couldn’t stop staring at it. Domed and painted in blue, to mimic the shade of blue sky so rarely seen in London, and surrounded with gold leafs. Above the stage, a wall sculpture in plaster depicted an image of Roman figures clad in robes and some seminude, holding harps and dancing around a great golden cameo of Queen Victoria.

“Wait until you see Opera Garnier,” Dracula said, joining me at the balcony. 

“Is it that much prettier?” I glanced at him, then really looked at him. The yellow lights and gold reflecting everywhere gave life to his face in a way that fresh blood couldn’t. His wrinkles, so rarely seen in his marble skin, seemed now carved into the sides of his mouth and his eyes. A slim vein on his neck snaked all the way behind his ear. It looked plump, filled with scarlet, lively blood. But I knew that not to be true - his blood was darker, turned sweet by death.

“You can’t begin to imagine,” he whispered to me, leaning his head towards me but keeping his gaze on the auditorium. “There was an opera house in Bayreuth, in Bavaria, that I visited in the early 1800s. I’d say it is even more impressive than the Paris opera, but I don’t know if it still stands to this day. Baroque,” he nodded as if to add weight. “Ostentatious and far beyond the dreams of Napoleon.”

“Let’s go there,” I said. “I want to see it. I can make a list of all the places I want to go.”

“Wherever you want.”

“You didn’t by any chance meet Napoleon, did you?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Saw him once in a ball. Scrawny man. He didn’t seem remarkable enough to make me want to meet him.”

I didn’t have a chance to comment on Napoleon not being remarkable enough. The stage creaked as people started marching behind the drapes. As musicians took their seats and the curtains opened, the audience shuffled like bees in a honeycomb, excited murmurs rising as they rushed to take their own seats to watch the spectacle. That was our own cue to take our seats on the two velvet and gold armchairs closest to the balcony. An elderly couple joined us soon after, sitting to our right, and the double doors to the box were closed.

I handed one of the two programs for the night to Dracula as the maestro stepped onto the stage, nodding to the welcoming applause. He bowed and turned to the orchestra. They creaked, breathed and adjusted their instruments and began tuning. My skin crawled in response to the dissonant sound. 

Collective silence. 

The audience waited with bated breath.

And in thunderous sound, it began with  Coriolan Overture  by Beethoven. 

I leaned back in my seat and breathed.

“God.” I couldn’t say much more. 

I had heard classical music thousands of times through headphones, on the television, in the cinema, and now I realised they were flat renditions of how it actually sounded. This wasn’t created to be heard anywhere but in a theatre. It deserved to be watched. To spend this long without witnessing seemed almost sinful.

For a second, but a precious second, my eyes filled with tears and I grabbed onto Dracula’s hand and placed a kiss on it. 

“Thank you,” I mouthed to him.

He kissed my temple in response. Our fingers twined together for the rest of the performance.

Beethoven’s piece started big and finished lightly, and the next was the opposite. Ravel’s  La Valse  began timidly to the heartbeat pulses of the bassoons, until it swelled and swayed to a chaotic melody that left me dizzy. I was still reeling from it when a tall but slender woman entered the stage in a black gala dress. From her, came the most booming voice I could have ever imagined and although she was just one member of the whole ensemble, she towered over them all. It was the first piece I recognised,  Habanera  from Carmen by Bizet. 

Then came Tchaikovsky’s 6th Symphony.

It expanded behind my ribs, lodged between my diaphragm and my lungs, and made me sit up straight to breathe in resonant notes and feed some nameless thing inside me that stirred awake. It grew, made a knot in my throat, held my heart in its invisible hands and asked to be let out. I knew that if I opened my mouth, I would sob, so I held it there, trapped this live thing that I didn’t know could be born out of music behind my teeth, and barred it with my tongue.

In the short pause between movements, the audience would break into coughs as if every person in the room also strained to contain something inside them that wanted out.

I was exhausted by the end of it, but smiling. 

When interval finally came and the lights became less dim, I continued staring at the stage. If I moved, then this marvellous feeling would cease and I wasn’t ready for that just yet. At some point, it fled from my grasp without me ever realising it. 

“Drink some water,” Dracula said, a full glass in hand. I had no idea where he got it from.

I started shaking my head and only then realised how dry my throat was. I drank it gladly.

“This is much more than I expected,” I confessed.

“You missed a lot.” He smiled at my frown. “I lost a hundred years but in some ways it was you who missed much more than I.”

“Did you go to concerts a lot?”

“Whenever I could. Music remains a stamp of the times, to this day.” He smiled lightly. “I witnessed hundreds of years of it. I am still catching up but… so far?” I nodded for him to continue. “I don’t know how impressed I am by the last hundred years in that regard.”

“Did you get to Led Zeppelin yet?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

He shrugged. 

I gaped, open-mouthed, at him.

“We need to have a serious conversation after this.”

He laughed. 

The lights dimmed once again and this time the stage welcomed not only the orchestra and the maestro, but also the main attraction of the night as the program made quite clear: the German violinist, Johanna Falk. Also the only part of the libretto I had bothered to read beforehand. She had been playing since she was four and had won numerous awards, besides being considered one of the best violinists of the century. My brain had made an image of her – brown hair, mousy face and narrow hips – and it was somewhat satisfying to know I was wrong. 

She wore her golden strands of hair half up and as she walked, the rest of it bounced down her back until it reached her waist. A dark green dress, strapless, revealed surprisingly defined shoulders and full breasts. I imagined her eyes to be the same mossy green but from this far I could only note her heart-shaped face and pink lipstick. She shook hands with a violinist from the orchestra, the one sitting in the closest row to the maestro, then bowed to the audience at the knees and raised her violin, shining a lacquered reddish brown, to acknowledge the audience below her. She looked at the boxes below us, a nod to the right and left, and then up- and her eyes were on me. She smiled the whole time. I smiled back even though I knew she couldn’t see me under the glare of lights aimed at her face. 

A quick moment of silence, and they began. 

Strings pulsated gently to make room for the soloist to enter. All the hairs on my body stood up when she ran that bow down the strings of her violin. It brought on the strangest feeling of missing something that I once held dear, and the melody twisted it until that feeling was substituted by intense freedom – a force that was unleashed. 

I leaned forward.

Johanna played with such calm those first minutes. Placid. She could do this in her sleep. But a slight frown on her brows and an occasional glare to the maestro, told me she was holding something back, same as I. 

My breaths were short. I needed to save it for what was coming.

As the pace increased and her fingers worked harder to create such defying cries, her waist bent back and forth to accompany the velocity in which she played. The musicians behind her stood nearly still and the frill wails of the violin danced dangerously in a long vibrato that invited a baleful tone, until she cut the air with her bow brusquely and her fingers flew up along the length of the violin. 

There it was.

Even from afar, I could see the intense concentration on her face. Eyes wide, the line in her jaw made hard, the triumphant smile.

Tears pressed behind my eyes and I blinked to let them flow. I had to see. Nothing as mundane as tears could keep me from watching every move from her elbow and fingers.

I dared look at Dracula at my side and found his eyes wet as well. 

I cried a little more.

When it was finished, the opera house exploded in applause for her.

Soon, she was playing again. A more joyful melody, played with more energy and even more of her brusqueness that I had so enjoyed in the previous concerto. The orchestra boomed with resonance to follow. 

By the end of it, I was half in love with her and half in love with the melody. I wanted to keep it inside me. Forever, and live knowing that I had this within me. But the second the music was over, the thing that had lodged in my throat slunk back and sat, very still, very lightly in the pit of my stomach and this time it didn’t fade like before.

When she lowered the violin, she blinked as if she just woken up from a deep sleep, smiled at us all and left to the side of the stage. 

The claps pounded on my eardrums. The audience sitting below us stood up to cheer, crying brava! for Johanna. I stuck two fingers on my mouth and whistled loudly, eliciting a laugh from Dracula and chastising mumbles from the elderly couple next to us. 

I was dizzy. Reeling. Smiling like a madwoman. Clapping until my hands hurt and became an angry red.

In the euphoria of it, I leaned to Dracula. “I think I understand a little of your hunger now,” I whispered in his ear.

His face was blank for a fraction of a second. 

Then his black eyes became even darker and a smile spread slowly on his lips. I asked myself if I should have allowed that thing on the pit of my stomach to rear its head and have its say.

  ______________________________________________________________

Dracula slipped off soon after that with words that he would be back and to wait for him in the box. 

I worried for a millisecond – he had no physical reason to excuse himself if not for a literal bite on someone’s neck – but the orchestra gave a collective sigh and began its final piece and I forgot about being worried. 

“I have a gift for you,” he whispered in my ear when he sat beside me again. My coat was in his arms again. Wherever he had gone, he had taken his time to stop by the cloakroom before returning. I wondered if this gift involved stepping outside into London’s cold night. Then, I wondered if it was a gift that I would enjoy. He looked too much like he did in that room inside Berkeley Castle while he held a bleeding Mallory. 

When the performance finished, we left the box hand in hand and he led me against the current of people filing for the exit. We descended more stairs than we had gone up when we arrived, until we found ourselves in the emptying orchestra pit.  

We were almost at the stage when I couldn’t hold back any longer. “What is it?”

“A surprise.”

A knot formed behind my sternum. I pictured it was my little monster banging against my ribcage. 

To the right of us, a small door opened from a low alcove near the stage. I would have guessed it was solid wall instead of a door. I almost expected a big Alice to duck through it after having eaten a cake with the label  eat me! Instead, the same man who had allowed us into our box peeked his head out and ushered us toward him. 

“What kind of surprise is it?” I pressed on as Dracula allowed me to step in before him, but he gave me no answer. 

I lowered my head and stepped through.

The man before me stood at full height, waiting for us in what I realised was the intersection of two corridors. Although the door was small, the ceiling was quite high and decorated the same blue as the dome inside the auditorium. I looked behind me and saw Dracula ducking almost comically to fit through the door. He blinked the same as I upon noticing the normal sized surroundings.

“Secret passageways,” the unnamed man confided. “This one is special for guests as a shortcut to the green room. If you’ll follow me…”

I grabbed Dracula’s hand, pressing it twice to show him my excitement. I didn’t know that was coming but this was certainly raising my expectations. He smiled lightly back.

“Green room?” I asked when our guide offered no explanation.

“Backstage lounge for the orchestra members. Ours is actually green.” I almost rolled my eyes but he glanced over his shoulder at us and I stopped myself. “It’s a tradition to have it decorated in green but most theatres don’t adhere to that anymore.” He made a turn left, another left and then he stood before a set of double doors, much like he had in the box hours ago, and opened them with a flourish. “She’s inside waiting.”

She?

The room was almost completely square. Plush green velvet curtains obscured window frames that showed no more than solid walls covered in dark green and golden wallpaper. A large black piano stood next to a fireplace. On the other side, two maroon chesterfield couches facing each other. On one of them, sided by a tray with champagne and food, sat the blonde violinist I had almost fallen in love with. 

The door closed behind Dracula and I. A soft thud that made me blink as I stared at her.

“Hello,” she said, standing up. 

I looked at Dracula. He gave me a smile full of teeth. Feral.

The knot in my sternum climbed to my throat. It made me quite incapable of speaking, so Dracula made introductions. 

Johanna approached us. Her eyes were green; I had gotten it right, except for the yellowed rings around her pupils. 

Green dress and green eyes in a green room.  I thought, and wanted to giggle at how very like a fairy tale that phrase sounded. Then I thought,  I’m going to remember this forever . Odd thought.

Her eyes surveyed us. They had that little glare I captured while she was onstage and I knew, once again, that she was holding something back. She was even prettier up close. 

“How old are you?” I blurted. She gaped, then chuckled. “I’m sorry,” I smiled, embarrassed. “That’s an awful thing to ask when you first meet somebody.”

“I’m used to it. I look younger than I am.” Her accent floated around the consonants and rounded the vowels. “But you must forgive me for not revealing my age,” she leaned her head, narrowing her eyes as if to tell me a secret. Her v’s sounded a bit like f’s, and they came out in hisses. I found it charming.  “I like to keep it up my sleeve.” She grinned. Her bottom teeth were a little crooked and there was a small gap between her two front teeth. Her eyes drifted down me, then she did the same with Dracula. “I like your dress” she told me and then to him, “and your waistcoat.”

“I like your dress, too,” I answered, feeling silly that we were exchanging compliments.

Dracula simply nodded in thanks. I searched for his eyes, trying to find some meaning to his silence, but he kept them objectively on Johanna. They had that intensity that I learned meant one thing with him. Thirst for blood.

She peered curiously at him before turning away with the fabrics of her dress whispering after her. Dracula and I watched her take a sip of champagne and although we were not touching or even close to each other, a connection passed between us, turning the very air around us icy. I closed my hands in fists, glanced at him and caught his gaze. 

“What would you like me to play?” Only Johanna’s question made me break eye contact with Dracula and I cursed that she spoke to remind him that she was there. Prey. She whipped her hair behind her as she positioned the violin between her jaw and clavicle. Milky, unspoiled neck. “Bach, Paganini or Vivaldi? Those are the most requested.”

“Impress us,” Dracula suggested. She opened her mouth. “Something the both of us haven’t heard.”

“How will I know-?”

“Anything from the last century,” I cut in. 

She nodded and raised her bow. It waited above the strings. “Have a seat,” she offered. Even that mundane offer seemed almost lascivious coming from her mouth, so much like rose petals.

In the very back of my mind, I registered my stomach was empty and put it aside.

“I’ll stand,” I said, striding for the piano where I placed my purse and leaned my hip. I needed something solid to support me, to tell me that this was happening and I was a part of whatever Dracula was about to do. If I sat down, I was complicit. At least if I stood, I had a choice. What choices I had available, though, were a mystery and questionable. 

Dracula, on the other hand, accepted her offer and removed the coat of his tuxedo along with the scarf, and sat down. I forgot to watch Johanna as he crossed his legs – an ankle over a knee – and unbuttoned the waistcoat, then his sleeves, rolled them up his forearms and finally loosened his tie. Johanna forgot to play. He gave the both of us a knowing smile. She glanced at me and blushed when she realised I had my eyes on her. 

I wasn’t jealous that she looked at him like that, or that Dracula looked at her that way. There was no jealousy in any of it. Only fear. 

And excitement.

“This is the third movement from the sonata in G minor by Paul Hindemith,” she announced.

The bow scratched the strings and the sound pierced my eardrums to the point where my skin crawled and I winced. In such a small room, the cries coming from the violin filled my ears. The bow cut the air, emitted a sigh, a cry, a long wail. Johanna closed her eyes as a manic melody flowed out of her fingers. She was there, standing before the fireplace and between me and Dracula, but also not there. She went somewhere else as she played. 

I almost couldn’t see her fingers move. Sometimes I thought there were two bows making different sounds, one thin and the other grave tones, but it was all her with incredible skill. 

Her feet stepped forward, and back, as if she was waltzing by herself. As the notes got faster, she bent closer to the violin. A vein appeared in her forehead from the effort. Sweat beaded the crook of her neck. Her breasts glistened with it. 

If I were to kiss her I knew it would taste salty. 

My gaze met Dracula’s. He raised an eyebrow at me, looking me over. Only then did I realise that I had stepped forward. The piano no longer had its powerful solidity on my hip to hold me in check. Dracula unfolded himself from his seat and stood up. Staring at me. 

Johanna played with her eyes shut. Dracula gave languid, silent, steps to stand a little ways behind her. If she opened her eyes she would still see him in her peripheral vision. 

I was trembling. 

“Johanna…” I said it, but not loud enough for her to hear me over the violin, yet, she opened her eyes and they focused on me for a second. Dracula’s hands encircled her waist, slowly but inviting. She could push forward and escape his touch if she wanted. Instead, she leaned into it and stopped playing in an off-note.

“I was hoping it would be this kind of party when you walked in,” she confessed. Even I laughed despite it all. 

Eyes on me, as if daring me to say something, Dracula placed his lips on her neck. I knew he could feel her pulse. I heard my own heart in my ears. It made me lightheaded.

Johanna’s fingers loosened around the violin and the bow.

There was one of the choices I was hoping for. To take it from her and yank her away, or leave Dracula to drain the life out of her. 

His mouth on her became careless. Kissing, nibbling, latching onto her. One of his hands knotted on her hair and twisted her head back, prompting a gasp from her and a moan when he carried on. 

My pulse throbbed between my thighs. I so wanted to touch her skin and to have her cheek against mine as my mouth joined Dracula’s.

The violin was slipping.

Stepping forward, I grabbed the violin and the bow from Johanna. Her neck glistened with saliva; it was rosy pink where it had received his brutal kisses. Exchanging a long look with Dracula, I leaned to the side and placed the violin on the sofa. Johanna extended her hand to me with blurry eyes, so trapped was she by his spell that I doubted she could make out any features on my face. I hardly could. 

I slipped my hand inside hers. Calluses brushed my palm. I let my hand wander up her arm as she brought me closer. Her breasts pushed against mine. My head emptied of thoughts when she leaned and kissed me. Her tongue parted my lips, gave me a tentative lick, which I retributed more intensely. She tasted faintly of champagne, but not salty as I imagined. 

We broke gasping for air. 

And for a moment of clarity I understood my choice. My hand flashed to Dracula’s arm to ground myself. We looked at each other and again passed that connection beyond words. I shook my head lightly to the sides as a silent plea not to kill her. There was only so much I could bear and this I knew I couldn’t.

Parting his lips, fangs grew long and sharp as he leaned to her neck again. I kissed Johanna on the cheek and along her jaw where I did taste the saltiness of her sweat. Would all of her taste like salt and champagne? Sweat, tears, blood, cunt? 

Her callused fingers found the naked skin peaking between the corset lacing up my back. Where she touched, my skin burnt and I shivered. It was like having Dracula count my vertebrae all over again.

“I want to watch,” I whispered to Dracula. Johanna chuckled, misunderstanding completely the meaning behind my wish.

He grinned at me. So many things behind that grin that I could read. Pride. Victory. Lust. A flash of something unreadable as he opened his mouth above the blue-green vein on her neck. His teeth pierced her skin as if it was nothing at all. Johanna moaned against me as her nails sank on my back, making me gasp in return. Blood sprouted in heavy drops to coat Dracula’s mouth in scarlet. Then, almost too quick for me to see, he stopped biting her and latched onto her neck. 

On the back of my throat, I tasted the blood hanging in the air, sharp from the iron in her blood. 

I kept replaying it in my head. The sharp jagged teeth slicing, scarlet liquid welling, his tongue lashing out to capture the drops that dared to escape. 

Johanna’s every breath pushed against my chest so I learned to breathe in when she breathed out. Her moans were soft on my ear, begging me to hike up her dress and touch her. I kissed her to distract her from the idea and to indulge myself in something as, even through the kiss, I kept my eyes on Dracula. It was the same as watching Johanna on stage, a second missed would be a sin, yet there was no living thing on the pit of my stomach begging to be released anymore. Whatever that was, it roamed free the moment I took the violin from her. 

Her tongue on mine became lazy and her lips a little less determined. But her long, skillful fingers still worked to unlace the back of my dress, her nails and calluses scratching lightly on the raw skin. 

Dracula raised his head and blood flowed out of his mouth to cascade on her neck. The red reminded me of the auditorium, blood and gold, and rich. For a second, gazing upon him obscured the fact that Johanna’s tongue barely moved against mine now. I withdrew, eyes widening, and my hand flew up to the other side of her neck. A faint pulse, but there.

Dracula bent his head again and gave long careful licks to clean her neck. As he had done last night to me, now I know. The bite marks faded. Unspoiled neck, but stained with red. Johanna’s eyes closed. Her rose petal lips still held a little pout when she fainted. Dracula let her fall to the sofa where she lied as if she was asleep, and finally, she, our victim, no longer stood between us. 

I could touch him.

When he fixed his eyes on mine, I panted with the weight of the intimacy of what we’d shared. It was unspeakable that this was the most erotic thing I had ever done.  If I gave myself time to think I would rationalise what happened. But this ecstasy, this sensuous thrill of watching teeth penetrate flesh and blood spurting as if it craved to be consumed, awakened a new yearning. 

My limbs didn’t seem to obey me, and I wondered if that was some coherent and fearful part of my brain trying to censor my will. 

Perhaps sensing that inner struggle, Dracula took my hands and drew me closer to wrap his arms around me. The red blood coating his face suited him so, like a royal cloak. I bent my face towards his. His lips touched mine. Johanna’s blood still burnt hot on him and I flinched for a second. Pressing our lips together soon opened our mouths to devour each other. On the back of my mind, I thought that Johanna’s blood tasted similar to mine. Somehow I half expected it to taste like champagne, like her mouth.

Dracula’s fingers finished unlacing my dress, loop by loop, until my back was exposed and the dress hung on my body by the thin straps on my shoulders. 

His hands rove my back. Shoulders to waist, to the contours of my breast, to my spine, to the utter nakedness of my hips. I arched into him, shuddering from the unfamiliar pleasure and affliction that was caused on the new skin. Where had he bit me? Between my scapulas? My shoulders? Had he picked a place between two vertebrae and sank his teeth there? The nape of my neck? Did my flesh yield easily to his bites? Did my blood run on the vale of my spine like a small river, and had he licked it clean? 

Breathless, almost delirious from the collection of erotic images joining in my mind, I shrugged the dress off. It slid down to my hips. Dracula pushed it completely off. His hands moved to my front as he stared down my body, intent on watching the way I seemed to respond to him.

In turn, I undid the buttons of his shirt and pushed it off him as well. I smirked when I ran my nails lightly down his chest towards his belt and he shivered.

“Bite me,” I said, and held his face between my hands. If he turned, he could bite my wrist. “Leave no part of me untouched.”

I watched his black eyes become infused with red and his lips retracting to show jagged sharp teeth. When he turned and bit on the wrist, I thought through the pain,  this is love  . When my blood ran down my arm to pool on my elbow ditch, he followed the trail with his tongue. And before my attentive eyes, I saw his mouth fit carefully over the soft and thin skin there, and to the sharp pain, I thought again,  this is love . All over my arm, he bit me until I was a mess of blood that seeped from all the little holes, only to be licked away by him.

“Don’t make them go away,” I begged him when I noticed my skin remending.

He trailed a path of kisses down to my hand, nipping my fingers. A drop of blood surged on my middle finger.

“You’ll become shreds,” he told me in a ragged voice. “There are other ways to tear you apart. More enjoyable ways.” As if to punctuate how, he grabbed me between my legs. “Well, well…” His hungry eyes focused on mine, alight with the new discovery. “Were you this wet all night? Was it Johanna or…” he chuckled “was it just watching me bite your new friend?”

“Both.” My voice was reduced to a whisper as his fingers found their way inside me. It wouldn’t take much in the state I was in. “Bite me again.”

Dracula twisted my hair in his hand and tugged so I was forced to gaze at the ceiling as my neck bent back. Chest heaving, I gasped for air. There was little room for it inside my lungs in this position. Dracula’s mouth closed around my nipple. I closed my eyes, relishing in the pain as I pictured his teeth piercing Johanna’s neck. Warm blood that escaped his mouth ran down my body, down between my legs to join Dracula’s hand rubbing back and forth. When he drew his mouth back, my breast felt cold and empty where his teeth had pierced, but I paid it no mind as he began giving me long and hungry licks. He groaned like a starving beast. My moan was a small echo of it. 

I held onto his arms when he bit the other nipple to match. In a small mercy, or perhaps too taken by the taste of blood, he relaxed his grip on my hair. Free, I could look down to the carnage he had made of me. My right breast bore two bite marks and I was watched, Dracula bit down again on the other one. Bit deep as he might have done to my neck. His red eyes rolled and fixed their stare to mine. A tongue glossy with blood lapped at the wounds. Kindly and then unkindly, as if he was trying to widen the bites with his tongue. 

I could have cum from that alone.

A chant of  yes  and  more  poured from my lips.

Dracula wrapped both arms around me, fastening me to him as he rose my feet from the ground. I kicked my heels off as he sat me atop the piano. The leather of his belt snapped when he pulled it off forcefully. It fell to the ground in a hard clang. 

As he pushed one of my legs up so that my ankle rested on his shoulder, my hands flew to free him from his trousers and I guided his cock inside me. We moaned together as he filled me. I watched, fascinated, as his eyes squeezed shut and he licked his lips to taste the blood that still lingered there. With a hand on the nape of my neck for me to look at him and the other joining his efforts between us, Dracula started thrusting. 

I couldn’t contain myself. No more than a few thrusts and I held onto his arms as I clenched around him. He allowed me to ride it out with slow, forgiving thrusts while his thumb simply kept pressure on my clitoris. When I regained some awareness, his hand on the nape of my neck pulled me closer until our foreheads touched and this time there was no forgiveness to the push of his hips against mine.

“Tell me you love me,” he said as he rammed inside me. The request brought a surge of clarity to my clouded mind. His strokes became even harder. “Tell me you love me,” he repeated.

“I love you,” I said dutifully. 

“Again,” he commanded, grabbing my thigh. 

Looking into his eyes, I understood a need that he couldn’t voice.  Love me through all that I do. 

“I love you.” I repeated. Then the words started tripping out of my lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” I sobbed and whispered up to him through the recurring slapping of our skin. I starved for him, perhaps in a way more similar to the way he hungered after me. 

A constant stream of his groans joined my moans. His nails carved half moons on my thigh and I felt the hot pain of skin being pierced. It was a very distinct pain from being bitten. Even as he plunged into me, he let go of my thigh. His hand flashed to his chest and a diagonal cut appeared on his sternum.

I waited for no invitation.

His blood coated my tongue. 

It was pure debauchery and gluttony. My skin hummed and my heart pumped with blood stolen from Johanna. And having him inside me, dedicating love to him, our bodies showered with red, the world felt a little bit like it was mine. That he was giving it to me.

These violent pleasures and hungers were fit to gods.

When he came and lowered his head to kiss me, I told him I loved him again. It didn’t matter then that he said he couldn’t love me. 

I had no need to hear it anymore.

 _______________________________________________________________________________________________________

  @plutonianvenusiangoddess @rheabalaur @deborahlazaroff​ @thorin-smokin-shield @girlonfireice  @mr-kisskiss-bangbang  @saint-hardy @xoxodracula  @princessayveke  @dreamer2381 @25ocurer @vampirescurse  @blue-serendipity  @sunscreenfeverdream @iwasjustablur @daydreaming136 @hello-itsbarbie @bittenlove  @newyorkrican922  @soph3228  @feralstare @clussysposts  @jmor25  @spnkpholland  @goddessofmischief03 @mistandmoss  @luciahoneychurch @candleslut @theswiftnational @soulofsalt  @werwulfy  @skelior @cesspitoflove  @hiphop-gir @mymindpalaceismywonderland @lddracula ​ @festering-queen  @rainbowgoblinfan @sweet-delila @jar-of-moondust​ @saint-ackerman

[lets-talk-about-claes-baby]

|Claes Bang|

in

"The Glass Room"

[blooodywhxre]

In case of any writers find this post, if you’re willing to write the story for me ... yay thank you so much. There are writers who need the details ... I got you. I’m not a writer myself or a good one but I tried writing and gave up. Also can you please tag me in the story you guys are working on. Thank you I appreciate it! If you don’t know what I’m talking about look at my last post please. Here are the details:

The reader has been with Dracula since he came to England. But what the reader didn’t know was that Dracula was meeting Lucy, you know for feeding. So when Dracula leaves to meet with Lucy, he leaves his phone. Then the reader comes to his apartment and sees Dracula’s phone in the table. She picks up his phone and reads the messages of Lucy. What Dracula didn’t knew about was that the reader was in love with him. So the reader waits for him to come back.

Also if you don’t mind putting these quotes in the story where Dracula can say, “I just don’t love you the way you love me.” and the reader can say, “I must be stupid because I thought we were in love.” Please put these quotes in the story. I don’t mean to force or or push you to do it. You know just to get an idea for the story.

[leah-halliwell92]

Romanian Rhapsody

Summary: Almost two years before Dracula awakens, Dr. May Van Helsing is abroad gathering her own information on the legendary vampire. Years have passed since Jonathan Harker’s visit to what should be the ruins of Castle Dracula. Years since the village people have spoken or even warned anyone away from it. What will May find the deeper she digs into the Count’s home?

Previously:

“She’s your sister,” Sam said voice ice cold, “You’re supposed to defend her against pricks like this like she’s done for you on so many other occasions. Do you really doubt her so much that you’d fail her in this manner?”

Zoe paled at this knowing Sam is right before finding a certain spot on her shoes very interesting all of the sudden.

“And you,” she said looking to a now nervous Jack, “What’s the matter? Can’t have the one you want so you bully the one that’s had it for you since we began working here? How much more cowardly can you get?”

Turning back to Zoe she said, “You know it’s times like this when I realize that even Ted Bundy would have been a good bloke to date for your sister compared to this clown, good night.”

Chapter 1 – Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 – Chapter 4 – Chapter 5

00//00//00

Chapter 6

Agatha walked around what had become her room in his mind enjoying very much what she is seeing. She’d known her bloodline to have a flare but never thought it could burn with the power of a thousand suns.

“What’s with the metaphor?” Dracula asked as he made himself at home. 

Agatha watched as he sat on her desk chair a satisfied grin on her face. 

Dracula stared back looking serious and clearly off his kilter. 

“What’s with the lost puppy look?” She asked instead of giving him a straight answer. 

Dracula stood and paced back and forth the small room which only worked to amuse the nun laying on the bed. 

“What IS she Agatha!?” He bellowed. 

“Whom are you talking about?” She asked knowingly. 

“May!” He yelled clearly at the end of his tether, “Her!”

“What she is is my family,” Agatha said amused grin still in place, “And she is what I would have been like should I have been born in this era.”

“Oh really?” He asked tauntingly, “I rather think you’d be like Zoe. All ‘I want is to kill you because you are a monster’ and ‘you are something unnatural’.”

“Which you are,” she said in a sing song voice and a small smirk, “And Zoe believes you killed me. When to us it is obvious it was suicide.

“You are enjoying this too much,” he grumbled laying down on the cot in his cage.

00//00//00

“She said that?” May asked Sam hurt evident in her voice. By no means is she surprised, she’d known for a while that these where the thoughts her sister had of her, what hurt was having them confirmed. 

‘A doctorate in European history and a historian in my own right...and this is how she treats me. Like I work under them instead of beside them,’ May thought as she gathered her things into a neat pile and did the preliminary sweep of her office to make sure she had all the notes she needed. 

This done, she picked up the pile, turned off the lights and locked her office door. She was just about leave the archives sector to the cage room when Zoe stepped into what is her area of the archives sector. 

“Hey,” she said with a small grin.

May nodded still not in the mood to hear her sister’s inane reasons for going head on into a life threatening situation or her half hearted apologies. 

“Can we talk?” She asked May. 

May gave her a look but nodded.

“Mind if we sit?” Zoe asked, stalling.

“Zoe unlike you some of us do have actual work to do that goes over the clock,” May said not unkindly...but not too nicely either.

Zoe nodded at this expectantly and said, “I knew what I was doing––”

“Bullshite and you know it,” May interrupted her, “You got lucky is what happened.”

“May––”

“Don’t patronize me Zoe,” May said getting agitated, “I’m your sister not one of your interns.”

“We had to get him in the box May!” Zoe said trying to get her sister to see her point of view.

“At the cost of your own life?” May said looking at her pointedly, “If the foundation is paying for damages you should have kept hitting at it until he did as asked not risk your life for a bloody experiment.”

Zoe shook her head and May and mumbled something that sounded very much like “you wouldn’t understand”.

“Wouldn’t understand!? Do you really think I don’t know what its like to have your greatest achievement in the palm of your hand, so close you can taste it and then have it slip away?” May said loudly, shocked that her own sister really did see her as a secretary enough to forget she has her own career in her own hard-earned field, “What have I been doing for the past year Zoe?”

“You’ve been away somewhere in Europe,” Zoe answered automatically.

“That’s where,” May said not impressed with her sister, “Not what. What was I doing ‘somewhere in Europe’?”

Zoe stared at her blankly before saying, “Doing research?”

May sighed exasperatedly and said, “You really can be very stupid for all your smarts. I’m going to go and do my job before heading home, I’ve better things to do with my time than be patronized by you. And the next time you put your life in danger, let the office tell me a day later! Maybe then I’ll have time to process that my sister...my only sister got herself killed.”

With that said, May left Zoe in her office mouth agape in disbelief. 

00//00//00

May adjusted her glasses as she stopped in front of the table that is a little ways away from Dracula’s cage. She resisted the urge to scoff and roll her eyes at the files that cluttered up its surface.

“Can’t even be bothered to put the papers in their respective files,” she said to herself as she separated the papers into their correct file folder and putting the files into a neat pile on a corner of the table before setting her own folders on the table.

“Thought you’d be out like the rest of your colleagues,” the man in the cage said nonchalantly.

May rolled her eyes at that but said nothing and went about finishing her file on Castle Dracula.

“Isn’t that what today is all about? Pairing up with your other and giving each other tokens of affection and what not?” He continued on unbothered.

May rolled her eyes and looked up to find the man in question staring at her through the glass of his cage.

Dracula to his credit, looked as curious as he sounded.

May gave herself a mental shake and went back to her writing.

“What on earth could be so interesting in that file that is keeping you practically mute?” He asked now annoyed at being so blatantly ignored.

May sighed and looked up before saying, “I’m writing about my latest expedition. If you must know I’m writing about the ruins of a castle I was studying.”

“Were?” He asked his brows furrowing in curiosity.

“Yes,” she said with a sigh, “I was about to uncover something important when my dear sister gave me a call to come home.”

“Ah so it is my home you were digging through,” he said with a cocky smirk, “So I do interest you then?”

May scoffed making a mental not to be as vague as she could and said, “Don’t push your luck, I’m not my sister.”

“No?” He said in disbelief, “So you don’t want to study me? And have been wanting to crack me open like an egg and poke and prod at what’s inside for the last two weeks?”

May laughed out right at that knew she had to remain as vague as she could, she’d never admit to finding him interesting let along attractive. Nor admit that she enjoyed listening to him talk.

“I don’t see where that could ever be funny,” Dracula said a growl coming from his chest, “What purpose could having me here serve you?”

May’s body still shook from laughing but she had to admit, he is rather handsome and the way he seemed to ooze raw power impressed her…slightly.

“It is, when you say such a thing to a woman with a doctorate in European history,” she said with a small grin.

“Oh,” he said now looking, slightly, abashed.

She shook her head at him and finished the paragraph she was working on so she could give him her undivided attention.

She gave him a look over comparing what he looks like to the portrait she’d seen in one of the rooms. The likeness to the one in her purse is uncanny she had to admit. But the man is truly something else.

“What,” he said smirking again, “Like what you see?”

“That is irrelevant,” she said voice even as she continued studying him from her seat.

“Well aren’t you ever filled with surprises,” he said cockily.

She smirked and was about to say something else when…

“Don’t entertain him…it won’t do you any good,” her sister, Zoe, said as she walked in lab coat billowing with every step she took.

May rolled her eyes in the dark making the vampire in his cage smirk.

“Goodbye Zoe,” she said loudly.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” she said clearly not liking the clear dismissal.

“And where should I be Zoe?” May asked angrily, “In the bowels of the foundation locked away with my files and archives? If the point was to keep me buried I’d have stayed in Transylvania.”

Zoe couldn’t say anything to that, not because she didn’t have anything to say but because her younger sister had a point. She read up on the expedition and where it is located. Her judgment of her from years of rumors clouded her judgment enough to overlook that May would have been safe no matter what…

“Take Jack with you by the way,” May said not looking at her sister finally turning to look at her sister.

Zoe for her part was confused as to why, after all May had a bit of a crush and thought her sister and colleague were going to give a relationship a try.

May gave Zoe a heated glare.

The sisters shared a silent conversation before Zoe nodded sadly and left the room.

May cleared her throat and stood.

“Will you ever tell me why you were so studiously examining my person?” Dracula asked curiously.

May gave him a weak grin but excused herself to put away Jack and her sister’s mess of files leaving her behind.

She kept her steps light not wanting to draw attention to herself as she made her way down to the records’ hall.

‘I really need to find a second office,’ she thought as she put the files back in their respective spots.

Everything was going better than she expected time wise, she even had time to change into her leggings and a cozy top, when she heard two distinct voices walking through her sanctum.

“Of course she’s here,” Jack said as he walked in turning on all the lights as he walked through the room like he owned the place, “She never leaves this place.”

May covered her mouth to keep her breathing in check. She knew Jack wasn’t too keen on her, she also knew what he thought about her. He made it no secret and told anyone who’d listen all about her hermit-like ways. She never thought that he’d completely disregard the fact that she has an education and a title in her own right.

“She’s qualified historian Jack,” she heard one of her colleagues say in defense of her.

May took off her shoes and worked her way around the large archive’s room. Knowing the room like the back of your hand helps when one wants to make a swift escape.

“She’s a qualified secretary,” he said derogatorily.

May paused a tear escaping her. She knew that that is what he and her sister saw her as.

She made a quick exit narrowly escaping the pair and making her way back to where the cage is.

May ignored Dracula’s questioning gaze and dismissed the guards swiftly reminding them that she is as much in charge of the place as Saint Zoe. The guards left at her order but felt no comfort in leaving her there with a clearly dangerous…beast. She proceeded to put her files in her bag and pull out her laptop.

“Are you alright?” Dracula asked after having had enough of seeing the woman command the attention of all in the room.

‘She really is something,’ he thought holding back a smirk remembering how Agatha had done the same on the Demeter when his true nature was revealed.

May gave Dracula a guarded look before pulling out her sketch pad and a pencil, clicking the space bar on her computer allowing music to play from it softly. All the while not answering his question.

Dracula was about to inquire again when a Doctor Jack Seward walked into the room.

“There you are May, I need you to pull a file out for me,” he said flashing her a flirtatious grin.

She looked at him then at Dracula before looking back at Jack.

“Sorry we’re closed,” she said and went back to her drawing.

Jack looked dumfounded at the response. May had always done something for him when he asked without question.

“Its very important May please?” He said laying the good puppy look on thick.

“Oh pleeeeease do you really think that act will work?” Dracula taunted, “Do you really think she’ll fall for it?

Jack bristled at that but spared Dracula no response to that.

“When the dead guy is right,” May said never straying from what she was doing.

Jack’s temper was showing, the morning’s CCTV was going to be more than amusing to see for all involved.

“Go find Lucy Jack, I’m sure she’s dying to see you,” May said glaring at him, “After all I’m just a lowly secretary.”

Dracula gapped at the girl…no. Woman.

Jack’s eyes widened at her words, “May–”

“It’s Doctor Helsing,” she said voice hard, “And I will become your worst nightmare if you don’t get your ass out of here.”

Dracula openly stared at May then mouth wide open as her words mirrored those of a similarly strong willed woman.

//

“Quit staring, it isn’t polite,” Agatha said a grin in her voice.

For once Dracula had nothing to say to that.

//

Jack swallowed thickly at this, “How can you–”

“I am an educated woman with fighting experience,” May said, “You may be taller than me but you know what they say…they higher they are the harder the fall.”

Jack swallowed at that having seen her training one day and took her threat to  heart. He wouldn’t show this to her though, he needed that file and he’d do almost anything to get it. Even play your feelings for him to get it.

“May, please,” she said dropping his voice down some.

Dracula rolled his eyes and raised his hand to get May’s attention.

She looked his way fire in her eyes, “What.”

“Just letting you know you, might have to do that if what he did is any tell,” he said almost piteously nodding in Jack’s direction, “Well that and his heart rate’s accelerated meaning what you’ve said has had a rather profound effect on him.”

May looked at Jack in interest.

“Come on May you can’t mean to trust him can you? He’s a monster!” Jack screamed.

“Actually he’s been nothing but courteous and a gentleman to me since I walked through the door. The one whose been an ass is you! Thinking I’d whore myself to you because I have a school yard crush on you that will pass the longer your higher than thou attitude is ruling what little common sense you have,” May said a dangerous smirk on her face.

“Jack! There you are,” Zoe said as she walked in.

Dracula backed off the window pane and moved to lay down on the chaise of the cage.

“Did I miss something?” She asked seeing Jack’s pale face before yelling, “What did you do Dracula!?”

“He didn’t do anything Zoe, believe it or not,” May said evenly standing from her seat.

Zoe wasn’t in the mood to argue and was sure she’d see the feed in the morning, the pair looked unharmed and Dracula looked to be more than used to being in his cage.

“I know you don’t believe me Zoe,” May said softly, “Just leave.”

Zoe went to her sister but was more than hurt when May took a step a way from her.

“Leave,” May repeated defeatedly, “Take your…man with you.”

Zoe wanted to say more but decided to wait till later and did as May said.

“Let’s go Jack,” Zoe said firmly.

“But…the file,” she said in protest.

“Can wait till tomorrow,” she said firmly.

Zoe didn’t wait for Jack to respond or do anything, she dragged him from the room promising to call May later so they could talk.

May sighed and slumped back into her chair.

“Are you alright?” Dracula asked.

May sighed and looked to the man who stood back at the window.

She shook her head and sent a text to Raven and Sam to keep any files Jack wanted under need to know basis, he’d need to clear them with her before getting them. That done she went back to her drawing. 

A couple of songs later a soft guitar was heard coming from her laptop.

“Can you raise the…um…what is it…” he started asking a little lost for words still unfamiliar with the technology still.

“You mean make it louder?” May asked lightly.

He nodded.

Here comes the sun, doo-dun doo-doo Here comes the sun, and I say It’s all right

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here

”Dr. Helsing,” Dracula asked staring at her in what looked like wonder but May couldn’t be sure. Here comes the sun, doo-dun doo-doo Here comes the sun, and I say It’s all right

May looked at Dracula questioningly an inquisitive brow in the air. Little darling, the smile’s returning to their faces Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here Here comes the sun Here comes the sun, and I say It’s all right

“Would you honor me with a dance?” He said with a shrug.

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes Sun, sun, sun, here it comes Sun, sun, sun, here it comes Sun, sun, sun, here it comes Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

“Oh what the hell,” she said and stood, “If I’m going to die might as well die dancing.”

Dracula looked surprised at her comment but held his tongue.

May was somewhat careful and put on her grandmother’s cross and under her shirt. Before making her way to the door and using her key to open the door.

“Hold it mister,” she said as Dracula was about to step out of the room, “I go in, you don’t.”

Dracula agreed to this and offered her his hand.

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear

May took his hand and together they danced until dawn…and the news that his lawyer had arrived.

Here comes the sun, doo-dun doo-doo Here comes the sun, and I say It’s all right Here comes the sun, doo-dun doo-doo Here comes the sun It’s all right It’s all right

00//00//00

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[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Mobile Masterlist

Requests are CLOSED

(p.s. I don’t write smut so please don’t request it, thank you)

The Last Of US Masterlist

Help Her - Platonic Joel + Ellie x Reader (series)

Since outbreak day in 2003, Y/N and her older brother Ben have survived the post-pandemic world together. But when they arrive in Boston and meet a couple of smugglers, things change. 

Wizarding World Masterlist

The Monster of Wolf Woods - Remus Lupin x Reader (two part mini series)

A love of a muggle and a werewolf.

Marvel Masterlist

The Intern - Tony Stark x Reader (series) COMPLETE!

You move to New York to focus on your art but end up working as an intern at Stark Enterprises

Bloody Beetle - Steven Grant x Reader / Arthur Harrow x Reader (series) COMPLETE!

A night on the late shift with Steven ends badly when a creepy guy with a scales tattoo shows up searching for a beetle

Doctor Who Masterlist

Trust - Doctor x Reader (one shot)

When the Doctor betrays your trust and an old foe brings danger your way, there could be disastrous consequences

Home - Doctor x Daughter!Reader (mini series) COMPLETE!

After stealing an escape shuttle on the planet Messaline and travelling alone for many years, you finally find your father… only to discover he’s now your mother

Dracula BBC/Netflix Masterlist

Flesh & Blood - Dracula x Reader (series) COMPLETE

A mysterious stranger with ties to your past shows up in your small village

Familiar - Dracula x Familiar/Servant Reader (oneshot)

Reader is Dracula’s familiar. When your master’s oldest vampire friend comes to visit a feast takes dangerous turn and truths are revealed

Shadow & Bone / Six of Crows Masterlist

Who Hurt You? - Kaz Brekker x Sister!Reader (oneshot)

Reader is Kaz Brekker’s younger sister. Jesper finds her injured and Kaz wants to know who’s responsible (requested)

Family - Kaz Brekker x Sister!Reader (Oneshot)

Reader is Kaz Brekker’s younger sister. She’s also a heartrender who was separated from her brothers at the age of six. Ten years later she meets Kaz again as he plans to kidnap the sun summoner. (requested)

The Crow Club - Kaz Brekker x Sister!Reader (Oneshot)

Reader gets a job at the Crow Club but big brother Kaz is over protective. (requested)

The Plan - Kaz Brekker x Sister!Reader (oneshot)

Reader is the sun summoner who Kaz is sent to kidnap. (requested)

Useless - Kaz Brekker x Sister!Reader (oneshot)

Reader is Kaz’s sister and has a medical condition. She gets injured on a job. (requested)

Valuable - Kaz Brekker x Reader (oneshot)

Kaz and the crows are paid to find the reader and her sister after they run away from their father (requested)

A Family of our Own - Kaz Brekker x Sister!Reader (oneshot)

when Kaz and the reader lose their families, they decide to create a new one. But both must suffer the trauma of their pasts (requested)

Beneath Your Beautiful - Aleksander/Darkling x Reader (oneshot)

Reader is the sun summoner, but doesn't believe they can live up to everyone’s expectations (requested)

Disappointment- Ivan x Daughter!Reader (oneshot)

Reader is Ivan’s daughter and he wants her to be a heartrender like him even though she’s actually a healer. (requested)

Fleabag Masterlist 

Unfaithful - Hot Priest x Reader (series) COMPLETE

After dreaming of your perfect wedding since you were a little girl the big day is almost here. But after meeting the priest you start to question your relationship.

Miscellaneous Masterlist

James McAvoy

No Business Like Show Business - James x Reader (series) 

You work backstage at a theatre and become close with the star of the show (who you may also have a slight crush on)

Enamoured - James x Reader (two part mini-series)

James meets reader at Michael’s birthday party and falls head over heels for her (requested)

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[undead-notunreasonable]

HAPPY DRAC-O-WEEN || PART 8 OF 31 🎃🦇 ||

Damp, towel dried, spiked hair stood on end as Dracula sat on the edge of his now empty bath. Trousers pulled to his hips but no energy to pull on his shirt. Who knew that blood draining would bring about emotions that he tried so desperately to bury. What he would give to sink his fangs into some innocent bystanders throat to bury them deeper. Burying yourself would draw this voice closer. A voice that wanted a destruction to the world you found admirable, the world that you thought you wanted to join even if it was at the side-lines. His grip took hold of the edges of the cast iron bath, gripping tighter & tighter until the metal itself began to creak under it’s cracking. He removed his hands immediately, folding them between his knees. It’s like he’d forgotten entirely what it was like to be a vampire, to be the Prince of vampires, to be Count Dracula, an immortal immortalised by some Irish writer a hundred years ago. This is exactly what Agatha had wondered he could be, if only she were here to see it, how smug she would be at the sight. He hadn’t felt so weak both emotionally & physically in centuries, not since... since he were turned. Dracula shook his head. No, he won’t be so feeble. Eyes searched suddenly & found his goblet on the floor. Quickly he lifted it to his lips, drinking away his thoughts & feelings with the blood of Paul, an underground ticket officer who spent all day helping those with valid tickets through machines that didn’t think them so. A pervert who'd stare at women's chests as they passed. How dull but how filling he became in such a small gap. A shudder as he finished the final droplet from the cup. He was still starving. Was he really that much of a pig as Agatha had once called him? How could you not? When something so small filled you with so much force, so much power, why would you not take it whenever you could?

Something forced him up onto his feet, his time in this room was up, he needed to get out, it didn’t matter where to him, though he was sure it would be somewhere within the building. As he left the room, slipping on a shirt, he noticed it. The birdsong had vanished completely. Was it night time? Had they gone to roost? Or were they nowhere near birdsong at all? Perhaps even somewhere birds didn’t sing, where Death followed like the sun & moon.

The warmth of the bath had loosened his stiffened bones but he realised that they’d loosened far too much and that standing was still proving somewhat difficult. As much as he wanted to prowl whatever town he’d been forced into, his body just couldn’t keep up with it. Small tealights lit the stairs, following down each step until they led toward a bedroom 2 floors down also dimly light with candles. A soft, exhausted laugh escaped him as he took it in. A fireplace, a small wooden bed that was undoubtly filled with hay, you could smell it from a mile off, candles in the darkest corners and the simplest of night clothes. He remembered telling Elizabeth centuries ago what his childhood home had looked like, she obviously done it to make him feel at home. She’d also been through what he’d been through, the draining, and she wanted him to feel like his human self again. Taking a seat on the bed, he felt the familiar itch of the poking strands of hay but the inviting warmth of the fire. It was impossible not to think of his family, and what had... happened to them. 

Stop it. He snarled at himself, sitting upright, and glared at the wall. You are Count Dracula, you were a warlord to Vlad the Impaler, you are stuff of legend, you are not built to be soft. Your name means slaughter & devil. You are the chill that runs down a human spine when they discover that you're real. He stood now, straight a pin, sucking in a breath of renewed courage. He walked out of the room, following the stairs down away from their leading tealights. What kind of childish fancy was that? Voices grew louder the further we went, before bursting into what seemed like a kitchen diner underground, lit simply by a buzzing florescent light. Lucy & Elizabeth were mid laugh when they froze at his sudden arrival. Count Dracula's eyes tell on the vampire "I will not sleep in that room." He growled at her "I am not human any longer. Neither are you. Why try and recreate human experience when we are something more. Even you agreed that we're a higher species."

Elizabeth had remained entirely silent during the Counts tantrum. A result of the lack of blood in his system no doubt. She understood, she merely thought that recreating the comfort of home might help while he recovered but clearly she was wrong about him. "Omor, I misjudged. I will have another room set up for you."

A sudden cackle & snort of laughter had erupted from Lucy "Omor?! What kind of exotic romance novel kinda name is that, D?!" She burst into another fit of laughter, pressing the palm of her hand to her forehead, finding something rather normal from his human past funnier than any of his jokes she’d made with him.

The Count were about to bark back at her, a snarl of a comment when Elizabeth raised her hand at him to stop him. “You laugh, but who do you think would be making up his new bedroom?” she arched a high brow to the young ghost, raising from her seat like an elegant mistress. The look of Lucy’s face would be priceless if it could be captured on camera. You could practically see her internally screaming about how to put on a bed sheet. Elizabeth waltzed to the Counts side, reaching out for her to take her hand hand. “Where are we going?” he asked, nonchalant. “Outside.” She replied simply. “I’ll need a coat, it’s cold outside.” he glanced up from her hand to her sparkling grey eyes. “You’re dead darling. You are the cold.” Elizabeth grabbed at his hand, taking force of the Count, someone needed to. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.” she snorted as he led him out into the cold air.  They weren’t in the countryside at all.

[killrqueen7]

Be My Best Nightmare - Dracula/Gender Neutral! Reader

Rated G - Just some good ol’ cuddles and a bit of Stockholm Syndrome

You awake with a start, sitting up in your bed with a hand over your heaving chest. The dream that had awoken you was nothing short of terrifying, and you’re shaking at the memory of it.

          Flames danced along the castle walls, reaching up with furious heat to consume the only home you had ever known. You knelt, wailing in the grass as the angry townspeople around you shouted horrible names – “Devil!” “Monster!” – and threw flaming molotovs into the windows. You could hear the screaming of your beloved husband as he battled with staying inside his burning home or stepping out into the sunlight where he would surely be turned to dust. Suddenly, his cloak was consumed by the greedy flames and he went up like kindling, howling in agony and despair. You tried to run to him, crying “No! No, put him out! He hasn’t done it! He’s innocent!” but you were held back by your waist. You were forced to watch as the only man who had ever touched you with kindness was taken from the world.

          As you stare at the covered window, beams of orange and rising sunlight peeking from the curtains as they flutter in the breeze, you are consumed with the need to see him. To make sure he is still here; not alive, not breathing, but still here, with you. Your socked feet gently touch the carpeted stone of the floor and you push your hair from your face as you look around your room. You do not know the time but guess that it must be around five or six in the morning. Dracula is surely sleeping by now; deep within the heart of the castle. Avoiding the lines of sunlight striped across your bedroom floor, you tiptoe along the edge of the room to the door that separates you from the rest of Castle Dracula.

_

          Dracula left you ignorant of where he lay during the daylight hours; content to keep you as his bride but at arm’s length. For a long while, you spent most of your time in The Box, cramped and bathed in darkness. Your only company were the cats that he sometimes fed you through the hollow glass sphere, and the brides stuffed within the other boxes – though they never spoke and only moaned in pain and hunger. One of his brides, his least favorite of the three, was fed only flies. Poor dear. You had been nothing more than an experiment, but as time wore on, you began to long for his visits, even if they were only to feed you and the others.

He hummed as he did so, a different tune every time. He was such a cultured man, that Dracula, and he hummed sweet melodies in a deep voice of honeyed molasses. When you closed your eyes, you could almost hear the waves of the cello and the bright tittering of the flute. You had always loved music; attending orchestras and operas in your home country before you were lured into his arms and further, into his home deep within the Carpathian Mountains.

Most of all, you remembered his hands. Large, with long fingers, and callused from battles fought before your time. His sleeves were always pushed up to his elbows whenever he fed you and you had to fight the desire to reach out and drag your fingertips along the prominent vein that ran the length of his forearm. Once, when you attempted to touch his hand, he’d jerked it back so quickly that it shook the box you were in. He said nothing, but simply locked the small door and walked away, leaving you to your meal and the lonely darkness for another three days.

The next time he’d come, humming like nothing had happened, you pressed your ear against the box, fingernails bloody from scratching the day’s tally into the wood under your cheek. You recognized the tune and softly, began to hum along with him.

“In The Hall of the Mountain King.” You said when he’d stopped humming. “Now that is appropriate.” Smiling at your own joke, you pulled your knees to your chest and waited. You heard slow footsteps approaching and they stopped nearest the corner opposite you.

“You know music.” He stated, the first bit of conversation proposed to you in nearly half a year. He wasn’t asking. He knew.

“A bit,” You answered anyway, growing hopeful. “I was learning to play the mandolin before…coming here.” You did not want to disappoint him or scare him away. “I dabbled in the piano.”

You could nearly hear Dracula contemplating your statements, but soon it grew so eerily quiet and you were afraid that he’d left.

“I could play for you!” You told him, desperate to be out of the box. “And if I am not good enough, I can get better.”

More silence.

Then, the sound of the door unlatching. A sound you hadn’t heard in 174 days.

You’ve been Dracula’s personal musician for the better part of a year, growing more comfortable with the keys as the days went on. Dracula, of course, owns only the best instruments, and brings to you experts in the fields of string and keys so that you might drink from them and learn pieces played for his ear alone.

You love playing for him, but a larger part of you wishes to dance with him instead.

_

Tiptoeing through the shadows of the castle and holding a lamp in your right hand, you reach a set of stairs leading down into what seems to be a cellar. Just down those stairs and through a dark passage, where you were forbidden from going, lay the man you longed for. Dracula had opened his home to you, allowing you free reign of the rest of the castle, but the corridors beyond these stairs were off limits. It was not unfair, you know that. Dracula is, above all things, fair. He is the picture of politeness; a true gentleman in all ways – kind, strong, gentle and generous. You are so fond of him that it hurts and have even began referring to him as your husband. Should a bride not have a groom?

Before you can change your mind, you take your first step down into the darkness. Your left hand caresses the stone wall beside you and your eyes struggle to adjust to the shadows beyond your light. Shadows which you had discovered one early morning, before the sun had come up, when curiously following Dracula to this storage room beneath his castle. He’d floated down the corridors and then simply disappeared like he was made of nothing and you hadn’t mentioned it that night at dinner. The only discussion he’d made of it was to implore you to avoid going down those stairs again; pointing out that the rest of the castle and its grounds were yours to roam. You did not ask why but nodded in agreement and continued playing for him a familiar tune.

Once again, you enter the storage room and brush your hands along the top of one of the wooden boxes. You are sure the contents could tell a great many stories; secrets of Dracula’s past. There must be hundreds of these crates in the room, stacked taller than you stand. Each of the crates are nailed tightly shut and briefly, you consider spending some time in here, prying them open and diving into a bit of a history lesson. What sort of treasures lay within these boxes, forgotten in the dark and the mildew? What sort of memories would Dracula have squirreled away down here?

The squeak of a rather large rat scurrying across your foot breaks you from your enchantment. The contents of these boxes are none of your business. You do not wish to be any more rude than you are already being by entering a place where you have been forbidden. You do not want to anger your master and end up in that box again. The thought alone sends a cold rush down your spine and you proceed, past the towers of wooden crates, and further into yet another dark and narrow corridor.

The very next room you come upon is a dead end and is largely taken up by a large stone crypt, upon which is chiseled the surname ‘DRACULA’. Separating the A from the C is fissure that extends from one end to the other, wider in separation in some places than others. Slowly, you creep around to the other end of the room and peer down at the crest split in half by the fracture in the stone, however, something else catches your eye and you raise your lamp to see clearly.

Smooth skin upon a relaxed, sleeping face. The sharp slope of a nose, dark brows, and long, black lashes that brush just the very tops of his cheeks. At the corner of his lips is just the faintest smear of blood. The rest of his face is marked with lines of his age in life, made even more beautiful in the innocence of sleep. Dracula, your master, lies in this box – his burial casket; a place meant for eternal sleep. It smells of earth and is intoxicating in its contents.

Slowly, his eyes open and it startles you. Gasping, you step back as Dracula reaches up and pushes the stone slabs aside like they weigh nothing. “M-master!” You cry out, holding your hands up in surrender. His teeth are borne and his eyes red; disturbed from his deathly sleep by a disobedient bride. Slowly, he rises from his grave and you, shaking like a leaf, begin to beg his forgiveness. “I am sorry, master. I am sorry to have disturbed you from your slumber. Please, I am not here to harm you.”

He approaches you, soft growls bubbling from the back of his throat. “Then what for?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” You answer and even to your ears it sounds childish. “Nightmares. Horrible dreams…I- needed to see that you were still…” You stop to take a breath, meeting his eyes for only a moment before averting them to the ground once more.

In the light of the lamp, you notice that his eyes have begun to lose the red in his iris. His shoulders relax and despite your worry, he hasn’t attacked. Instead of taking you for his next meal, he simply sighs and leans against the slab of stone covering his dreary bed. You watch the vampire pinch the bridge of his aquiline nose and then slide his palm further down his face to pinch at the corners of his lips and clean them of any remaining blood. “You know, there is a reason why I asked you not to come down here. It’s dangerous.” He sounds exhausted; defeated.

You don’t speak, afraid of angering him. You simply nod. He looks over at you, brows pinched in the middle as he regards you for the longest few seconds of your life. “I don’t think I was being unreasonable.”

“No,” You finally say, lowering your head once more.

“No,” He repeats and licks his lips, studying you for a long moment, “Come on then.”

You lift your head in surprise, meeting those dark eyes which, for a moment, seem amused at your disbelief. “M-master?”

“I said, come on. Climb in.” Dracula gestures into the tomb and tilts his head in a manner that you would say is almost adorable. “I am very tired, and I can see that you are as well. Or is this not what you were seeking me for?”

“I-“ You start. Surely, he cannot be serious. He wants you to sleep with him, in there? Slowly, you take a step closer and glance inside. There isn’t a pillow or even a blanket. Just stone and earth. You hesitate.

“You’re welcome to go back to your own bed if this isn’t up to your standards.” The count offers, fingers curling around the slab on either side of his thighs.

“No,” You say a little too quickly. Return to your bed and pass up a chance to sleep next to the man you’ve been pining over for months? The choice was obvious. “No, I- this is fine. Perfect.”

The count’s dark brows raise and then lower in amusement. “Perfect, is it? I’d say that’s being generous but given the things that you’ve been okay with these past months, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were genuine.”

“No, it’s great. Thank you, master.” You meet his eyes, asking that he believe you.

Dracula grimaces, and for a moment, you’re worried that you’ve displeased him. “Just Dracula from now on, alright? Leave the ‘master’ business to my lawyer.” He offers his large hand and you take it, doing your best to climb into the tomb with him. Once you’re standing inside, he reaches past you, his face just centimeters from your own, eyes locked on yours as he extinguishes the lamp. You thank whichever god is listening that it is too dark for him to see the rush of red in your cheeks. You are absolutely gone on this man; he has to know it.

You watch as he lies down in the shadow of the tomb and peers up at you. Before he can say a word, you sit beside him, as best as you can given the space that you have. You glance at him again and bite your bottom lip when you feel his hand on your back. “You’re overthinking it.” He tells you. “Lie down, now. You can use me as a pillow. Any part of me you wish.”

You take a deep breath and then gradually lower yourself into a prone position. Carefully, the count curls his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer so that your cheek rests on his left pectoral. He is surprisingly warm, and you begin to relax when he uses his other arm to pull the slabs closed above you. Bathed now in darkness, you bury yourself further into his side and smile when you feel his soft breath rustling your hair. Despite the cold earth beneath your bodies and the inherent danger in falling asleep next to a vampire, this is a dream. He is solid in your arms; real and broad and not ashes on the ground.

You feel the gentle press of his palm against your cheek and then soft lips against your forehead that sends a wave of warmth and content through your body.

“Sweet dreams, my darling bride. Let the beautiful children of the night carry away those dark dreams and replace them with only peace.”

You close your eyes and allow his voice to carry you away.

_

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