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chelsfic · 4 years

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Leftovers - Part 12/12 - Nandor the Relentless x Female Reader Fanfic

For Previous Parts: WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: The reader shares her last night alive with her new family.

A/N: I realized as I was writing this that this whole fic could really be read as an elongated metaphor for my falling in love with this show and this fandom. I hope you guys like this ending and aren’t disappointed.

Warnings: Angst, Emotions, Crack humor, Turning into a vampire

---

It’s an hour after sunset and you can hear your housemates stirring. You’re still lying in bed. The ceiling overhead is cracked and peeling in places. You suppose this probably won’t be your bedroom for much longer. Nandor will want you to move into his crypt. Will you have your own coffin? Or will he want to keep sharing? How does one even purchase a coffin for...personal use?

You know you’re stalling. Nandor is being uncharacteristically patient, but he won’t wait all night. You’re not afraid. Okay, you’re afraid. But, you’d be stupid not to be. You saw Guillermo during his transition. He looked like hell for about three whole days. But you know Nandor will take care of you. Well, strike that. You know Nandor will try to take care of you and if he fails, Nadja and Guillermo will be there.

The night you met...the night you almost became a meal...was your birthday. So much has happened since then. You’ve been kept prisoner, fed upon, attacked, hurt. You’ve also fallen in love with every vampire in this crazy house, even Colin Robinson, bless his heart. Nandor and his bizarre mix of vicious lust and achingly sweet softness has somehow pulled you into this world, into a place you’ve always belonged without even knowing it. So, yeah, you’re afraid. But the idea of not spending every night for the rest of eternity surrounded by these beautiful, damaged, stupid idiots is even more frightening.

A knock comes at your door and Nadja’s voice trills, “Hello, human? May I come in?”

You roll onto your side and sit up, dangling your bare legs over the edge of the bed. You’re wearing one of your few dresses because...well, because you’re going to die tonight and shouldn’t you dress up a little?

Nadja slips inside looking resplendent and deadly as always. She gives you a sympathetic smile and comes to sit next to you.

“Feeling a little nervous about our unholy transition, are we?” she ducks her head and gives you that mama-vampire-knows-best look of hers.

You lean your shoulder into hers, taking comfort in her presence.

“Maybe a little…” you admit. “I’m not having second thoughts or anything it’s just…”

“A little spooky wooky, yes?” Nadja supplies. She wraps her arm around your back and pulls you closer. “Don’t concern your head off, darling. I don’t know if you realize this but I am considered a bit of an expert. I’ve turned many, many humans in my time. Including my dear Laszlo. I’ll make sure Nandor does not slip up and accidentally make you into a zombie monstrosity like my poor Topher.”

You rear back and stare at Nadja with horror stricken eyes, “That’s a possibility!??”

Nadja chuckles and tweaks your nose, “I am giving you sarcasm! To lighten the mood! It’s working, yes?”

You let out a long-suffering sigh that hiccups into nervous laughter.

“I love you, Nadja,” you say with sudden, overwhelming emotion. You dive forward and wrap your arms around her in a fierce hug.

Nadja is stricken for a moment and she pats your back gingerly, “That’s...very nice. You think you want to come downstairs now? Because Nandor is being a real donkey dick down there waiting for you, but his balls are too shriveled to come up here and get you himself.”

You laugh and pull back from the hug, wiping tears from your eyes, “Yeah, let’s go. I’m ready.”

---

“SURPRISE!”

“HAPPY DEATHDAY!”

“SMASHLEY’S IN DA HOUSE!”

“What’s crack-a-lackin’?”

Nandor looks supremely put out when everyone yells something different as you walk through the door to the fancy room. Does no one listen to him? They had an agreed upon plan! He scowls at at the other vampires, especially fucking Colin Robinson, before sweeping over toward you and taking you from Nadja’s arm.

“Welcome to your Death Day Party! Do you like it?” Nandor looks down at you with those wide, sparkling eyes that make you forget he’s a centuries old blood-sucking fiend who once conquered nations and slaughtered thousands.

You take in your surroundings with a look of wonder. There’s a giant glitter banner hanging above the fireplace that reads “Congratulations on your Dark Awakening.” You recognize it as Nandor’s handiwork at once. Also, Guillermo has obviously been to Party City because everyone is wearing pointed birthday hats with little Dracula emojis all over them and the whole room is absolutely covered in crepe paper.

“It’s...so cute!” you squeal, grabbing him around the middle in an enthusiastic hug. This is...just want you needed. A little goofy, human levity before stepping off the edge of the unknown. Your eyes continue wandering over the room until they fall upon a long table set up against the wall. “Oh...my g--gahhhh--is that mac and cheese?”

The table is covered in dish after dish of all your favorite comfort foods. Macaroni and cheese, pizza, lasagna. Apple pie, blueberry pie, cherry pie! There’s a whole giant bowl of Reese’s peanut butter cups. You pull away from Nandor and dash across the room, launching yourself into Guillermo’s arms.

“You’re the sweetest monster I’ve ever known!” you cry, doing your best to squeeze the unlife out of him.

Guillermo laughs, “Listen, you’re going to be puking for days either way. You might as well have one last chance to enjoy human food.”

You roll your eyes, “Thanks for the reminder, Memo.”

“Alrighty!” Nandor is suddenly picking you up from behind and plucking you out of Guillermo’s arms. “That’s enough of that. Why don’t you have some of this--” he turns his head away from you and gags “--yummy food and then we’ll listen to some human musical arrangements that Nadja and Laszlo have prepared.”

Nandor hovers at your side, watching with a wrinkled nose as you pile food onto your plate. You’ve barely made a dent in the impressive spread and you’re feeling guilty about the waste when Colin Robinson ambles up.

“So, nervous about Nandor draining all your blood and killing you tonight?” he asks breezily.

You ignore the question and instead ask one of your own, “Hey, you think you can bring some of the leftovers into your office tomorrow? I’d hate to waste all this…”

Colin’s face lights with a maniacal grin, “Barbara’s on a diet...Yeah...this will be perfect!”

You settle onto one of the couches, sandwiched between Guillermo and Nandor. Both vampires look vaguely nauseated as you tuck into your food, but they’re holding it together.

Laszlo stands up with Nadja and starts strumming a guitar as he addresses everyone, “When I first met our human I assumed she’d soon be fertilizing my vulva garden--”

Nadja slaps his arm and Nandor hisses indignantly.

“But! But!” Laszlo continues, bowing with a flourish in your direction. “I came to realize that this particular human was something special. I decided to accept her into the fold. Mostly because she kept Nandor off my back and also my wife threatened to maim my testicles if I ate her…

“So, here we are, human. The last night of your life and we’ve got just one thing to say…”

The couple launches into a screeching, cloying rendition of “(I’ve had) The Time of my Life” from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack (blatantly stolen from Laszlo’s catalogue of compositions). Your face is frozen in horrified laughter and you flick your gaze to Guillermo’s to see that he’s covering his mouth to stifle his own laughs. On your other side, Nandor is clapping along and bobbing his head with the music. Yup, this is your tribe.

The party goes on for another couple hours. Laszlo and Nadja perform several more “hits” before finishing up with “The Girl in the Village with the Very Small Foot.” Nadja’s singing voice is still ringing in your ears when Nandor bends down to whisper, “It’s time, my human.”

The levity of the party has done a lot to calm your nerves, but you can’t help the sudden grip of anxiety around your throat at his words. You look up, falling, once again, into the fathomless depths of his lovely, dark eyes and you think, That’s what this is. You’re going to live in that deep, dark beauty from now on. There’s nothing scary about that.

You both stand up to leave and say your goodbyes. Laszlo and Colin wish you luck. Guillermo hugs you and presses several quick kisses to your cheeks as Nandor murmurs warningly, “Watch it!”

When he releases you, you’re suddenly engulfed in the arms of a crying Nadja.

“I do love you, you magnificent, ruthless baby!” she sobs. “Nandor, if you fuck this up I’m going to make a hat out of your asshole.”

You laugh into her shoulder and Nandor complains, “Yeesh! Alright, calm down, Nadja!”

By the time you’ve pried yourself from Nadja’s grip you’ve joined her in crying and your face is soaked. Who knew vampires could be so sentimental?

Nandor grimaces in distaste as he brings his hands up to wipe away the tears.

“Ready!?”

---

Nandor’s crypt looks just as it always does. No crepe paper or glitter in sight. Just the warm glow of candles, the rich red and gold accents of the decor, and the solid familiar bulk of the coffin where you’ve spent so many nights wrapped in his protective embrace. He leads you over to the chaise lounge and you both sit, fidgeting nervously and darting shy glances at one another.

Nandor plucks at the fabric of your dress, “This is nice.”

You smile faintly, “Thanks, I--I thought maybe I should dress up for the occasion. Is that stupid? I guess it’ll just get stained…”

“No,” Nandor cuts in, looking earnest and serious. “No, I’ll be careful.”

You nod and fall silent again. The knowledge of what you’re about to do seems to hang like a thick curtain between you. The easy intimacy that you’ve shared is strained with the gravity of what is to come. Nandor finally huffs out an exasperated sigh and pulls you into his lap. At first you think he’s just going to bite the bullet, so to speak, and dig into your neck at once. But instead he grabs your face and pulls you into a searing, all-consuming kiss.

He tangles his fingers in your hair, pushing his tongue into your mouth with a low groan. You stroke your hands down the long column of his throat, running them across his broad shoulders and down his back. How this man--this perfectly imperfect, wonderfully fragile, fierce warrior man--has come to choose you, you can’t begin to understand. For countless other human souls, catching the eye of Nandor the Relentless has meant grim misfortune. For you, finding yourself the prey of a murderous vampire is the best thing that’s ever happened in your life.

Except maybe being MVP at last year’s championship bout.

Nandor’s lips fall away and he looks up at you, panting heavily with his hair mussed and tangled. His gaze flicks down to your exposed throat and you see him swallow in anticipation. He reaches for something on an end table and shows you the stainless steel travel mug containing his blood. You take it from him noting the strip of masking tape on the lid with Nandor’s elegant scrawl--his name and the date.

You snort, setting the container down on the cushions beside you and looking back up at Nandor.

“Prepare yourself, my mortal,” he growls, fangs elongating and eyes flashing with a predatory gleam.

You turn your head, baring your neck for your vampire boyfriend, and answering lightly, “I have a name, you know.”

---

THE END

A/N: Hey, thank you so so so much to everyone who read and supported this fic from the beginning! Your comments and encouragement mean the world to me!

Tags:

@festering-queen, @kandomeresbitch, @strangestdiary, @glitterportrait, @scuzmunkie, @redwoodshadows, @sarasxe, @rileyomalley

#nandor the relentless #nandor x reader #nandor the relentless x reader #nandor the relentless imagine #wwdits fanfic #wwdits #what we do in the shadows

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a-deadly-serenade · 3 years

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overall this season was pretty decent. i have some thots whats new so im gonna share them below the cut if anyone’s interested :)

so!! first off i’ll say that there were a lot of things i did really enjoy from season 4!

the action was super fun as always!! i loved all the crazy enemies and callbacks! the skeleton fight and all those little goblins they kept killing throughout were a nice touch ;) sypha’s use of her powers is INSANE her ice-chainsaw?? her WALL of fire?? electric balls?? come on. and the animation was NICE. i really wanna know who did most of the fight scenes bcuz the style is so different and it just POPS but in a really good way?

my favorite fight has to be ofc when everyone is REUNITED yes im basic. but the THEME song going off and well, im a whore for sotn references and i CAME when i saw the leap stone ref w the winged cape or when alucard turned into a hoard of batss AND THEN HIS WOLF FORM OOOOHH BABY!!! actually episode 9 is just a straight banger.

STRIGAAA. STRIGA. oh mama i was sweating during that fight. mad kudos to her va for them growlsss

carmilla vs isaac was a lot of fun and i loved the visuals but my hype was instantly ruined when i saw her kill herself 😭but thats smth i’ll complain about later.

not all the lines were bangers, some of sypha’s swearing seemed even a bit too much at times, and it was especially jarring to be having a face-to-face death-math with literal Death and hes acting like a naughty little 5 year old thats just learnt to swear. maybe cut back on the fuck-isms? just a bit? BUT when they hit they did GOOD. “the fuck what now?” yes

ISAAC. you weren’t in this season as much but man do u still shine through. i loved his introduction back in the town where he has his night creatures digging graves and rebuilding the city 😭 and then the conversation he shares w his flyman?? obsessed.

Hector chopping his finger off and giving lenore and carmilla a good ol FUCK YOU!! as he helps isaac. we love to see it

Trevor and Sypha’s “I love you!” “I know.” <3

DEATHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

oh! alucard actually having a story & purpose in the plot? :) luv it love to see it. that being said... the Plot.

its... ok? it’s kind of split up into 3/4 parts, as the story progresses, one eventually merges with several of the others kind of? cohesively? while leaving the other to sort itself out.

now, i didnt have too many qualms with it, it was pretty straight forward. dracula is going to be resurrected and we have sypha and trevor looking in on it, while alucard helps the nearby village and hector and isaac go on about bringing on their inevitable showdown. however, the way the story was paced and some of the decisions they made... werent so great.

st. germain for example, brought the ENTIRE momentum from the last few episodes to a halt. you have sypha and trevor fighting through heaps and heaps of monsters only to find themselves back in Targoviste where they meet the mysterious Zamfir!! and Alucard!! he’s been asked to help save this village!! all jam-packed with crazy action and animation that leaves you fired up!! and then episode 5 comes to a screeching halt and we spend nearly the entire thing on st. germain’s backstory and explaining his motives for the rest of the season

like. imma be real with you chief: he didnt need to be here lol. you could have just left varney as the main vamp in charge of bringing back big daddy drac and he could reveal to his.. idk henchmen or something that he’s death. but u gotta fill them ten 20 minute slots somehow!! he just fell so flat and unfortunately, a lot of the side-characters suffer from this this season.

i enjoyed great and zamfir, i love their desgins esp, but they really could have been fleshed out more. zamfir is shown as nothing but a spoiled brat the majority of the time she’s on screen but they wait till she’s about to die to try and turn her character around? huh? greta is given a bit more screentime but this sudden confession of feelings in the last episode felt so... huh?? why couldnt she just be dedicated to her people and show that u can love someone w/out necessarily being their partnr? i thot that was her whole thing; taking care of her people. it’s like. where did this come from. they cant have known each other more than a week at most dog 😭

it sucks they dedicated to much time to scenes that didnt really need to be there where we could have gotten this proper development, like maybe have a scene zamfir and sypha connect over struggles they’ve dealt with in the past and that has her open up about how traumatizing dracula’s attack on her city was. u could have expanded upon her role in the court and WHY she worshipped the monarchy so much instead of making it a throwaway gag about her being “crazy”. but why have that when we could instead spend the first 5 minutes of said episode watching a monotonous back-and-forth b/w varney and that big burly russian vampire who’s name im sure mor than 98% of the audience cant even remember?

just a lot of fat that needed to be trimmed so that the actual MEAT of the story could be slow cooked to perfection. people really arent kidding when they say less is more.

another big problem i had was there... i dont even know what to call it, re-humanization? redemption? of Lenore. like lmk if im wrong but she manipulated hector, yeah? coerced sex to slip on that ring that binds him to her?? orr whatever weird shit warren’s into. but the way they interacted, ESPECIALLY in their first major scene together was sooo uncomfortable to watch lol at first i thought perhaps hector was only playing along because well. hes enslaved to do her and carmilla’s bidding. but no, he actually LIKES her. he spares her when isaac comes around, he says that he wants to keep her as his own. and in the meantime, lenore finds time to complain to a man that’s been beaten and enslaved how upset it makes her that carmilla got angry at her 😭 or says thats she tired of isaac keeping tabs on her and wants to escape this ‘cage’. to aman thats literally been imprisoned since youve known him 😭her death is seen as peaceful, calm, they even try and tug at ur heartstrings by swelling this sad, dramatic music as the sun rises. really? LENORE?

and carmilla’s death happened WAYY too early imo. she was the villain for practically 3 seasons and this is how she goes? isaac couldnt get more than a stab at her? his night creatures couldnt take a nibble? HECTOR couldnt even be given a chance to do somethng like come on

the resolution was... strange? it was cute!! and happy!! but i dunno if they really needed to have lisa and vlad coming back, but, like i said; it was cute! definitely not the ending i was expecting.

i’m glad that they put their focus back on what made the show so much fun and that was the FIGHTS. they definitely helped add some much needed spice to things when scenes started to drag, but im a gal that really luvs a good story and even though reviews were raving that this season helped closed the lid on all the themes theyd been exploring, i just didnt really see that. which isnt necessarily a BAD thing, i knew i wasnt gonna find some deep introspective themes in this hack n slash horror-fantasy, its just what can turn somethng like this from an ok show to a GREAT one.

in the end, im glad they stopped at this one and im curious to see if they really DO go ahead on making spin-offs. bcuz unfortunately, i will always be down for som new castlevania content

#cv4 #this is REALLY long #and BRIMMING with spoilers #so read at ur own discretion #otherwise ty for spending ur valuable time to hear what a random sob like me has to say <3

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desperatefrenchwriter · 4 years

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Sola Gratia (7/?)

Rating / Warnings : General audiences, no particular warnings.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 7/? (2219 words)

Author’s notes : Rated A for Angst

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“Won’t you invite me in ?”

I slowly turned my head to face him, the tip of my nose touching his for a second.

“Do you think this is how it works ?”, I whispered. He inched back, probably picking up the anger I tried to conceal in the softness of my tone. “Do you think you, who has haunted my every nightmare, every dark corner, every space behind my back, for months-” I took a shaky breath. “Do you think you can invade a place I feel most safe in, threaten my dearest friend, threaten me, and hope a gift will make up for it ?”

I clenched my jaw. His expression, as he has leaned back into his seat, was unreadable.

“I have spent days in the hospital, terrified that you would find me and finish the job. And I couldn’t tell- I couldn’t tell anyone why I felt so unsafe because frankly, who would believe me ?”

Tears welled up in my eyes, still he said nothing. Had he spent so much time apart from any humans he forgot how to understand emotion ?

“I am terrified, right now, because I know you could… snap my neck, or bleed me dry, and I couldn’t- I couldn’t do anything about it !”

I started to cry silently, unable to stop the flow of tears running down my cheeks. He seemed almost paralyzed. I took the chance, and got out of the car, slamming the door behind me. Fumbling for my keys, my fingers were so shaky I dropped them. As I picked them up, I heard the other car door open, and froze, slowly turning back to face him. He circled around the car, but kept a distance between us.

“I cannot begin to imagine what you went through because of me.” He looked and sounded completely serious, which was a strange color on him. “There is nothing I can say that would be close to an acceptable apology, but I do want to make amends.”

He handed me the box, keys still on the lock. The chain glimmered under the streetlamp’s lights.

“I won’t invite you in”, I maintained.

“And I will not insist.”

I hesitated a little, and first pulled the key from the lock, slipped it into my pocket. As I took the box, my fingers brushed against his, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Are you cold ?”

I could have a fire lit, if you want.

“I’m fine”, I replied, once again having no time to protest as he put his jacket on my shoulders. “I’m literally ten feet from my door, Vlad-”

“Hah, she called me Vlad !” A semi-triumphant look plastered on his face.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you, or like you, for all that matter”, I snapped at him.

“And I will make my peace with that.” He put a hand over his heart. “For now.”

“You are insufferable. I’m going to bed.”

He still had a somewhat… sheepish look to him, head slightly tilted to the side, like a grounded puppy. Still. I couldn’t move past the flashes of teeth, blood and feral growls layering over his face. I suddenly had to inhale a sharp gust of air, and turned back, the box held against my chest by my injured hand, the other looking for my keys. I turned back, and climbed the short flight of stairs to the entrance of my building.

“Sleep well, Lady Cetero.”

Can’t promise anything. I buzzed myself in, and hurried to the stairs without a second look behind me, turning all light on as I went by. As I climbed the steps to the fourth and last floor, I felt like my heart was about to jump out of my chest. Not only because those stairs were a nightmare, though. On the doorstep, the meowing on the other side of the door had me smiling. That little monster was going to be unbearable.

Giving the usual kick to the door panel to get open, it creaked on its hinges, yet the incessant yelling of the hairball at my feet covered most of the noise.

“Hey, shut it, dumbass, you’ll wake the whole building”, I told him, locking the door behind me.

Following his little strut to the kitchen, I gave him his much expected dose of kibble.

“You fat idiot, you need a diet. I love you so much. Babie.”

He purred hysterically as he ate, and I kept on my incoherent baby talk for a while, mindlessly running my hands through his shaggy fur. God, what a day. I sat on the floor, removing my heels, and resisted the urge to throw them out of the window. Gift from Leah, gift from Leah, I muttered under my breath as I put them away in the hall closet.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dialed Leah’s number, who picked up before the first ring. I reassured her, told her I was home, safe, and tired. As soon as she started taking her usual gossip-y tone, asking about Vlad, I bid her good night, and hung up on her crystalline laugh.

I dragged my feet to my bedroom, throwing the jacket on my desk chair. I grumbled as I tried to unzip my dress. God, who decided to make clothing you can’t take off by yourself ? Rich people, probably. Or people in a relationship. As I finally succeeded to pull the tab down, I heard knocking on my window. A panicked scream escaped my mouth as I noticed the dark silhouette standing on the emergency staircase, outside. Him, again. I sighed, and climbed over my bed to open the window a crack.

“What the hell do you want now ?”, I barked at him.

“You forgot your briefcase”, he told me, holding it up for me.

“Oh. Thanks.” I hesitated before opening the window wider. “This is not an invitation.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it”, he smiled as he passed me the worn leather bag. “Although, if you still need help with your dress-”

“Get out of my balcony.”

I could swear he winked before he disappeared. By that I mean, literally vanished. I leaned out of the window, and felt a soft stroke against my cheek, and a bat, flying off. Well. Something to add to the list. I closed the window, and sat back on my mattress. Sleeping was going to be a challenge, tonight.

~ - ~ - ~

The sound of my alarm dragged me from sleep. Buried in my thick duvet, head incased in my pillows, I groaned for a good minute before I found the energy to set my phone off. Outside, everything was still dark, which made getting up that much harder. Zardoz meowed in indignation when I had the nerve, the hubris to move him from my legs, where he’d spent the night.

My hand felt sore, and I figured I had to redo the bandages, if only to assess the damage. It wasn’t too bad, two cuts to my palm, and one across my thumb, the rest being small, superficial scrapes. I disinfected the whole, and carefully placed fresh bandages, making sure I’d be able to actually use my hand this time.

I dragged myself to the kitchen, and the sacrosanct bean juice machine. It did make disgusting coffee, but then again, I was very much used to it. As it rumbled, having the whole table vibrating, I served His Royal Majesty his morning dose. This time, I set it into a training ball, so that he’d have minimal exercise. God, I could barely picture the sorry state I’d found him in. A small, half dying kitten, at the corner of my building, now a year and a half ago. His harrowing mews of distress attracted me, and after a significant amount of vet bills, he was mine. Leah had the idea for his name, as we were in a weird movie binge-watch party, and Sean Connery’s red underwear made some lasting impression of us. By that, I mean she almost choked to death laughing.

Bringing my cup back to my bedroom, I threw some clothes on, and slipped my feet into my boots. Thursdays were usually not that busy for me, but my absence during the seminar meant I had to catch up on some classes, both to my dismay and that of my students. I finished my coffee with a wince. The things we do for energy. At least, wasn’t coke. I checked the contents of my briefcase, wrapped a scarf around my neck, and was out, but not before a final kiss on Zardoz’s belly, who endured with minimal complaints.

Greeting Mrs. Mills, checking her mailbox way too early as she always did, she asked if I had any breakfast, and cursed at me when I answered by the negative, as she always did. And as I always did, I wished her a good day, before storming out. I climbed down the stairs, checking my watch for the next train, and froze as soon as I raised my head back up.

“What the hell are you still doing here ?”, I exclaimed, my voice coming out a bit more squeaky than I would have liked.

“Good morning to you too”, the Count cheerfully replied, handing me a paper bag.

“What’s that ?”

“Oh, don’t sound so suspicious, it’s breakfast”, he sighed.

Squinting at him, I took the bag, and peeked inside. Warm, buttery looking croissants.

“I didn’t know what to pick, I went for ‘timeless classic’. Is that alright ?”

He seemed to genuinely care. I sighed.

“What isn’t alright is you standing at my front door at six thirty in the god forsaken morning. The croissants are fine.”

“Well, perfect then !”, he exclaimed. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

He opened the passenger door once again.

“What do you mean, you’ll drive ? I’m going to class. I don’t have time for whatever shenanigans you have planned.”

“I know, I’m driving you there.”

Knowing I wouldn’t win this argument, being still half asleep and on an empty stomach, I threw my head back, sighed, letting out a “FINE” that seemed to satisfy him, as I slipped into the car. He sat behind the wheel, my university’s address already in the GPS. Worried me a little. How much exactly did he know ? Was it all in my blood ? Gods, that would be very telling of my academic situation. I leaned back onto my seat, deciding that if I had to put up with him, I didn’t need to make conversation.

“Are you angry, for some reason ?” He really did seem puzzled.

“Dear Lord, you actually have no idea, do you ?”, I sighed.

“I thought it would be gallant.”

“In the twenty-first century, waiting for a woman you barely know, whom you tried to murder a few months ago, is considered a bit creepy, my guy.”

He remained silent, excluding an outraged mouthing of “my guy”, which almost sent me in a fit of laughter.

“Maybe you will have to ‘update’ me on your modern manners, then”, he proposed after a short silence.

“Yeah, maybe.”

What in the goddamn fuck was happening. Three days ago, I had nightmares about the guy, and he was now my glorified chauffeur. Well, not that it really did much for the lingering feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

“So, did you just wait in front of the building, hoping I’d come out eventually ?”

He laughed. “Would you call me a stalker again if I did ?”

“Obviously.”

“Then no.”

I had to say, he was a little funny. Not that I would admit it under torture, but still. The sky started to take a pink color, lighting the few clouds in bright orange.

“You don’t burn in the sunlight. What’s up with that ?”, I asked.

“I don’t sparkle either, if you want to know.” He didn’t let me enough time to react to the terrible implications of that sentence. “Maybe it’s easier to believe you are only unsafe in the dark.”

I sat back, watching the first rays of sunlight come through the windshield, giving his eyes an almost silver color. I noticed a soft smile form on his lips. He wasn’t horrible to look at, when he wasn’t in a bloodthirsty frenzy. A sharp profile, that commended authority, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw. His hair was still long, in controlled, soft waves, mostly slicked back, except for a few strands, falling casually in front of his face.

“Lady Cetero, you will have me blushing soon”, he teased.

Ah. Fuck. “I don’t like you clean-shaven. It looks weird.”

He laughed, and I turned my eyes to the road, trying to ignore the rising heat to my face. Curse me for blushing so easily.

“I’ll let it grow back, then”, he told me, almost apologetic. Soft.

I shifted further into the leather seat, a smile forcing its way to my lips. “Hrm.”

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Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder

#dracula x oc #dracula x human #vampire x human #vampire #Sola Gratia #Sola Gratia part 7 #dracula bbc #dracula netflix #dracula bram stoker #dracula castlevania #slow burn #angst #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #dracula fanfiction #dracula fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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thefloorisbalaclava · 7 years

Text

Sweet Dreams - Dracula!Reaper x Fem!Reader

A/N: I was supposed to have this done yesterday but I was so tired! I hope you all don’t mind and I hope you enjoy this.

I’m not sure if this should have a second part yet. We’ll see. ;)

Words: 5,302 Warnings: vampirism, attempted assault

**Parts that are italicized are from Gabe’s POV**

He watched you from the shadows as he always did – it was the only way he could. He knew you hadn’t laughed since your fiancé disappeared. All he ever wanted to do was comfort you, but there was no chance of that happening. You did most of what you had to do during the day, in the sunlight which was the bane of his existence. He longed to see the way the sunlight lit up your skin, to see the true color of your eyes, your hair.

There were nights when he swore you knew he was watching. You would keep looking behind you as if you were being followed. He didn’t follow you, no, he only watched from a distance from the roof of one building or another. The one time he risked getting a closer look, you had almost spotted him, and he couldn’t allow that.

Your approaching footsteps snapped him out of his sorrow for a moment. He smirked as he watched you walk with that little bounce in your step that he had come to love. You looked around and your eyes seemed to land on him, but he knew you couldn’t see him. When you unlocked your door and stepped inside, he knew it was his chance to move a little closer. He could hear you hum and sing to yourself as you got ready for bed. He never looked now, he only listened and closed his eyes as he pretended you were singing for him.

All the lights were finally out and that was his signal to leave for the night. He hated this time. He hated running back underground like some scared little animal. This was the only time he removed his mask and touched his face which he was sure looked just as pallid and grey as the rest of him. You would never love a man such as him, the undead. There was no chance he could replace the man you loved.

He threw his mask across the room and cried out in anger – hating who he was, what he was. Why didn’t they just let him die?

Your eyes flew open at the sound of a shout echoing through the silence of the night. You sat up quickly and looked over to your open window and stood to walk over to it. You peeked out, but there was nothing to see. It was probably a dream -- you were having more of those lately…ever since…

You looked over at the chair he once sat in and sighed sadly. You hadn’t even touched it since he vanished that one fateful night. They had told you he was just gone, but people just don’t disappear like that. You felt as though there were things they kept from you to keep you safe, but you just wanted the love of your life back.

The chair creaked softly as you sat down and sat stiffly. One tear escaped, and you put your head in your hands.

“Gabriel…” you whisper. “Where are you?” You finally let yourself relax into the chair. The cushion was slightly worn from his wear and tear, but at this moment it felt more comfortable than any bed ever would. You curled up in the chair and closed your eyes finally allowing yourself to fall asleep enveloped by a warmth you knew wouldn’t be there in the morning.

You wake up stiff and uncomfortable, but rested overall. You shivered from the cool morning breeze coming through your window and get up to close it. As if you were in a trance, you walked to the kitchen, take two coffee mugs from the cupboard, and start the coffeemaker. You yawn as the coffee finishes, adding sugar to your mug and leaving his plain. You would never understand how he could drink his coffee black.

You walk back into the room and place his mug on the small table next to his chair and that’s when it hit you. The ‘Mr.’ written on his mug stood out to you even more now and when you looked at your mug, the ‘Mrs.’ was like a punch to the gut. The abbreviations on these mugs were no longer a reality to you. You never had a chance to become Mrs. Reyes and you never would. Your mug fell from your hand and to the floor, shattering and snapping you out of your thoughts.

“No,” you cried, dropping to your knees and picking up all the pieces of glass that you could. You didn’t notice the coffee burning your fingers or the cuts on your fingers as you worked frantically to salvage the mug. “I’m sorry,” you said, eyes full of tears. You held the pieces of your mug in your hands and cried quietly, asking whoever was listening why this had to happen to you.

You spent the rest of the day cleaning and crying and feeling sorry for yourself. Gabriel would hate to see you this way, but what else were you supposed to do? It was only five o’clock, but you climbed into bed and got under your blankets. He would have told you that it was too warm for blankets and you would have told him that he could sleep without them then. He’d pull you close to him and hold you and you’d fade into sleep easily.

Your phone buzzed suddenly, and you reached over to the nightstand to look at and ignore whoever decided to bother you.

It was a text from your friend telling you about some Masquerade ball that was happening on Halloween. She knew you weren’t getting out the house much and she only had your best interest in mind, but there was no way you would have the energy to dress up and socialize. You texted back that you’d think about it though you had your mind made up already.

Gabriel would have loved a Masquerade. He had always loved Halloween and that was something you found so endearing about it. Now that he was gone, the holiday had lost all its fun, all its meaning. You would still buy candy to give to the trick-or-treaters, but other than that, you were planning on spending this Halloween alone – your first Halloween without him.

He awakened with a sense that something was wrong, and he hoped he was wrong. His head spun as he sat up and then he realized that he hadn’t fed in days. He was some consumed in his concern for you that he neglected himself. This wasn’t the first time it happened, but he had to take care of himself if he was going to be watching over you.

This was one of his least favorite things about being undead, being Dracula – feeding. Some innocent soul had to be sacrificed to sate him though he tried to find the bad seeds and those who he knew would not be missed. He wanted to believe that you could cure him of this sickness he was cursed with, but he knew that was only a dream. He had to keep his distance because he knew his impulses were not always under his control.

He left the underground and stepped into the night, his mask hidden by the darkness. He was glad for the dark for that one reason – it hid his mask from any others who decided to be out late at night. Most were too drunk or something else to be worried about him.

His ears picked up what sounded like two people scuffling and as he got closer he saw that there was a man harassing a woman. She clearly denied his advances, but that man was having none of it, that was, until he stepped in.

“I suggest you leave the lady alone,” he said, frightening both the man and the woman.

“I suggest you fuck off,” the man answered, turning back to the woman. She whimpered once more before Gabriel was on the man, yanking him back and practically tossing him almost halfway down the alley. The woman glanced up at him then backed away slowly before running away.

He turned to the man who was still struggling to get up, “I warned you.” He moved towards the man at an unnatural speed and had his fangs in his neck before he could even scream. He let the man’s limp body slide from his grip and lifted his eyes to the sky, closing them and licking his lips.

You would never love him when you found out what kind of monster he’s become.

“Gabriel would want you to have fun, especially on Halloween! It was his favorite holiday,” your friend told you over the phone. She was right, but you just couldn’t see yourself having fun without him. “You won’t even have to stay that long.”

You knew she would never take no for an answer and maybe this would help you clear your mind, for a short time at least.

“Fine. I’ll go,” you say unenthusiastically.

“Yay! I know this great guy…”

“No! No dates.” Now she was getting ahead of herself.

“Alright, just us. How about you wear that sexy black dress that you’ve only worn like once?”

There was a reason you only wore it once. You had it on the night Gabe took you out and proposed to you and ever since he disappeared, it had hung in the back of your closet where you could never see it.

“I…I have to think about what I’m going to wear. I have a few days.” At this point, you were saying anything to change the subject. “Look, I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed.” Your friend says goodbye and you hang up. You look over at your closet then walk to it slowly. You sigh as you reach way back to find what you are looking for.

The dress was still in perfect condition, only being worn once. You smiled as you remembered how Gabe kept his arm around you the whole night because your entire back was out in the dress. It took him everything not to say something to every man (and woman) who looked at you that night. There was also a split that went almost entirely up your left leg which also took Gabe some getting used to.

It had turned out to be the best night of your life. The man you loved most in this world had asked you to be his wife and, of course, you said yes; you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Ever.

You looked down at the ring on your finger and your eyes filled with tears. You refused to take it off. You refused to believe the love of your life was dead. He would come back to you and you would marry him. You two would start a family and grow old together…the way it was supposed to be. You looked at yourself in the mirror and wiped your tears.

The way it was supposed to be…

He hated when you cried. He hated that he couldn’t go to you and hold you and tell you everything was going to be okay. His body shook with rage as he watched you play with the ring on your finger, tears rolling down your cheeks. He longed to say he loved you again and not in his dreams; he wanted to see your face light up the way it did every time he said it to you.

His rage ebbed slightly when he noticed you looking at yourself in the mirror and smiling. You twirled and hummed a song to yourself. He closed his eyes and pretend he was swaying with you – you both floating, lighter than air as you moved around the ballroom. You switched from humming to singing and he could feel his heart beat out of his chest. He had always loved your voice. You sung in the shower all the time and when you cooked and when you cleaned. He especially loved when he laid his head on your lap and you played with his hair as you sung to him. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. Now he could only listen from a distance.

He knew you had agreed to go to the masquerade with your friend and he was proud of you, but part of him was also jealous. All those other people get to see you, get to be next to you, get to…dance with you. His hands curled into fists as he thought about another man dancing with you, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. He couldn’t allow that. No.

He would be at that masquerade watching over you.

Halloween Night

Halloween seemed to sneak up on you this year. Usually, you would have decorated and gone shopping for a costume, but without Gabe it all seemed so trivial. Nothing felt fun anymore and you really couldn’t see yourself having fun at this masquerade.

You checked yourself in the mirror for the fiftieth time that evening. You look down at the ring on your finger and smile – he would be there with you.

Your friend rang the doorbell shortly thereafter, holding her mask in front of her face when you opened the door. “Are you ready?” she asks excitedly.

You nod, “Yeah…sure.”

“C’mon! You can do a little better than that!” No matter how hard you tried, you would never match her level of excitement. You had never been as outgoing as her. She hands you the mask she was letting you use for the night and she was right, it went perfectly with your dress. “You look stunning,” she says. “No wonder Gabe loved that dress on you so much.”

At the mention of his name, your smile faded but you were quick to fix that before your friend started asking questions. You had recommended taking a taxi so that neither of you would have to worry about driving home after the party and if your friend had to crash with you for the night, that was fine with you.

The twenty-minute ride felt like an eternity and now that you had arrived you didn’t want to get out of the car.

“Maybe I should just go home. I don’t want to ruin your fun,” you say.

“I don’t think so. You’re not spending Halloween in the house. Alone. I won’t allow it. Let’s get in there and get a few drinks in us.” Your friend hops out of the car, donning her mask and you follow slowly.

“Masks on, please,” the man at the door announces and you slip yours on. When you enter the ballroom, you are blown away by how beautiful it is. A beautiful place full of beautiful people and yet something, someone, was still missing. You turn around to find that your friend had already started socializing and, man, did you envy her.

You find an empty table on the far end of the hall as the Salsa began to play and people ran to the dancefloor. Gabe would have pulled you out onto the floor for just about every song. He was a great dancer, certainly much better than you. You smile to yourself as you think back to the time he taught you how to do a waltz. Suddenly, as if the DJ had read your mind, the waltz began to play, and you closed your eyes. Subconsciously, you swayed to the music.

“May I have this dance?” a man asks, startling you and snapping you from your daydream.

“Oh!” you say, placing a hand over your heart and turning to look at who the voice belonged to.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. Let me make it up to you with this dance.” He holds his hand out to you, but you were too busy taking in his costume to notice. His mask seemed to completely cover his head, not only his face, and the long flowing cloak looked quite expensive. The shirt and vest with the cravat might have been taking it a little too far, but you were impressed. You noticed the fangs on his mask last and started to put it all together.

“Dracula?” you ask.

“Yes…”

“How long did it take you to put this all together?” You were sincerely curious.

“If you dance with me, I’ll answer all the questions you ask of me.” Oh, he was good. You look at where his eyes would be then down at his hand and take it hesitantly. Your hand never seemed to fit perfectly in anyone else’s hand but Gabe’s…but for some reason, your hand fit perfectly in this mysterious stranger’s hand. His glove was soft against your skin and you let him lead you to the dance floor almost as if you were in a trance.

Why weren’t you pulling away? Deep down you knew you wanted to snatch your hand away and run, but you just couldn’t. He stops, spinning you once before placing one hand near the middle of your back and lifting the other arm, taking your hand with it.

“Have you done this before?” he asks.

“Only once or twice, but I had a very good teacher.”

The mystery man exhales before leading you in the dance. He moved as if he was floating and you float right along with him. You feel as though you are the only two in the room though there are other couples who have joined. You can’t take your eyes off him, well, his mask and you feel as though he’s staring right back at you.

You laugh quietly, “You’re very good at this.”

“Thank you,” he says, nodding his head once.

You never want this dance to end, but the music stops and leads into a slower song. “Thank you for the dance, Dracula.”

“Leaving so soon?” He truly sounds disappointed. “Just one more dance and you’ll be rid of me,” he says.

“One more dance.” This time he moves closer to you so that your bodies are touching, and his hands meet at the small of your back. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and move with him. You feel his hands twitch on your back and he inhales deeply. “Are you okay?” you ask.

“Of course, it’s just not every day I get so close to such a beautiful woman.” He sounds as though he needs to catch his breath, but if he insists he’s okay, you aren’t going to push it.

“You flatter me.” You smile up at him and now he moves his head down and nearly buries it in your neck. You can hear him breathe in your scent. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I-I have to go.” He moves away from you quickly. “Stay…stay there. Stay away.”

You move towards him and reach out, “Did I do something wrong. Are you hurt?”

“I said stay away!” You flinch at his voice and by now a crowd has gathered around. The worried look on your face shoots straight to his heart. It doesn’t help that your eyes were now shining with tears. “Please don’t cry, querida.” He notices his slip up a little too late and decides that now is the best time for him to make his escape.

“What did you just call me?” you ask him, but he only backs away. That was something only one person called you. You start to repeat the question, but he runs and now you’re left standing there staring after him.

All logic told you to just let him go – you’d never see him again, but your heart told you to follow, to find out why he had called you…that. You look around at the crowd and find your friend who looks confused by what just happened. You only shrug at her before running after your mysterious dancer.

You were sure that he was gone by now as you ran out of the ballroom and out into the night. “This is stupid,” you say to yourself, breathing heavily. Just as you’re about to give up, you spot his cloak moving around a corner down an alley. You were about to call out to him, but knew that would only make him run again. Sneaking was your best option.

He knew you were following him. You had always been the one to look for trouble and he hated that, but you never let things go and his slip up had you curious. He would have to face you one day, and he wasn’t sure he was ready right now, but you weren’t going to give up. Maybe scaring you was the only way to get you to stop.

As you make your way around the corner to the alley, he hops down from the fire escape he was perched on and smiles to himself as you jump back but right yourself again. You gave him your ‘brave’ face and stood up tall – he was proud of you.

“Why are you following me?” he asks bitterly. He could feel his need for you growing again so he backed away from you.

“I-I have a question,” you say.

“You followed me to ask a question?” You nod, and he tilts his head, “Well?”

“What you called me back at the masquerade…well, why did you call me that?”

“It is a common pet name. Nothing special,” he says, trying his hardest to get you to leave.

“It is special…to me,” you say. “Someone…someone I love used to call me that.”

“And where is this person you love now?” he asks, and he was almost afraid to hear the answer.

“I don’t know. He’s just…gone.” The sadness in your voice makes him want to run over and hold you, but he held himself back.

“Dead?”

“No, he isn’t dead. I refuse to believe that. My Gabriel is still out there somewhere, and he’ll find his way back to me one day.” The stubborn glint in your eye had him grinning under his mask, but he quickly righted himself. He was supposed to be scaring you away.

“What if he never comes back? What will you do then?”

“I’ll wait forever if I have to.” Tears fell from your eyes and he reached out to you, subconsciously. You looked down at his hand. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

“You asked me a question, it’s only fair.”

Suddenly, you start laughing, taking him by surprise. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking following some masked stranger to ask a silly question. I’m sorry for wasting your time.” You start to walk away which is what he wanted all along, but he just can’t let you go.

“Wait.” You stop and turn to him. “Are you going back to the party?”

“No, I’m going home.”

“I’ll walk you. It’s dark out and you never know who or what can be out here.” Little did you know that he was that what you should have been afraid of. He begins walking ahead of you and turns left as he leaves the alley, realizing that he should have let you walk ahead. He wasn’t supposed to know where you lived.

“How did you know to turn left?”

“Lucky guess.” He holds his hand out, “Lead the way, my lady.”

As you walk, he begins to whistle a song that was all too familiar. You begin to sing along, and he gets lost in your voice. You turn to him and ask a question that stops him in his tracks, “Are you going to let me see your face?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

“Okay.” You shrug and stop in front of your flat. “This is me,” you say. He had gotten so entranced by your voice that he hadn’t noticed just how fast you got home. He wasn’t ready to say goodnight. You reach up and take off your mask. There was no mistaking the gasp that left him. “Are you at least going to tell me your name?”

He doesn’t answer, he only stares – taken by your beauty. He hadn’t been this close to you in so long. He had to touch you. This time when he reaches out, he brushes a stray hair behind your ear then cradles your cheek. It was something that was all too common to her and he knew you remembered because you nuzzled his hand and closed your eyes as he rubbed your cheek with his thumb.

He leaned in close, too close, and you opened your eyes. He pulls away slowly and your eyes shine with tears. Turning away, he bids you goodnight, but you’re stuck in that spot.

“Sir!” The sound of your voice stops him immediately. He doesn’t turn to look at you, but you ask what you need to anyway, “Can you say it again…?” He knew exactly what you meant.

Slowly, he turns to you, his mask covering a tear that had fallen from his eye, “Goodnight, querida. Dulces sueños.” He knew the way you used to respond to that, but he wasn’t expecting you to say it…

“My dreams are always sweet when you’re in them,” you whisper as he walks away. You assumed he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but he heard you loud and clear. That voice that was like music to his ears, that voice that could heal him of any ailment couldn’t heal him from this. He almost ran back and tore off his mask to show you who he was, to show you that he was still here, but it wasn’t the right time.

He went underground to the little space he had made for himself. Pictures of you he had carried on him the day he ‘died’ hung on the walls. He pulled a photo of you and him together off the wall and held it in his hand. He touched your face gently then placed his thumb over his face before a tear hit photo. He thought seeing you would satisfy him, but it only left him wanting more…something that would never happen.

In this moment, he wished that he was truly dead instead of being an empty of shell of what used to be a human. A human that could hold the one he loved. A human that the love of his life would not be afraid of. He ran his tongue over his fangs and lowered his head – he just wanted to be Gabriel Reyes again.

You don’t know why you just didn’t go in the house. You don’t know why you followed him. This time he was so distracted, he didn’t notice you following him. You stayed back far enough so that he wouldn’t pick up your footsteps. Was he going underground?

You had to stop yourself from squealing and yelping a few times when you saw rats scampering here and there. The man had made a home of this place and you wondered why he would hide in such a dark and decrepit place. He sat in a chair and looked around at the pictures on his wall…

…pictures of you.

How and why did have those? Unless…

You are distracted from your thoughts as you watch him reach up and take a picture off the wall to hold. He sniffles a few times and covers Gabriel’s face. That was the last straw.

“What did you do to him?!” you shout, and he jumps up, grabbing his mask and holding it over his face with his hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?! Get out!”

“Did you kill him? Did you kill Gabriel?” You walk over to him and he backs away as if you could possibly hurt him. “Why do you have these pictures? How did you get them?!” You were in a fury now. Tears streamed down your face as you looked around. Why did he have so many of Gabe’s things? “Answer me!”

“I didn’t kill him,” he says quietly, “But he is dead. The Gabriel Reyes you knew is no more.”

“What the hell does that mean?” You were calming down now, but you were still as lost as ever. “Who are you?” You look on, eyes wide, as he lowers the mask from his face.

“It’s me,” he says as if he was surprising you on your birthday. “It’s Gabe, querida.” He looks up at you and tears fill your eyes again. Here he was standing in front of you, but it wasn’t your Gabe…something was wrong. He looked like him, but his skin had turned grey and fangs poked out of his mouth.

“No…how?”

“I…died, but someone brought me back and now I’m this.” He turns away from you, “You should leave now.” You move closer to him and he turns slowly, looking nervous. “Don’t get too close…”

��Are you…are you going to hurt me?” you ask.

He shakes his head, “Never. I just…when I get close to you…you smell so good, it makes me want to…”

“Bite me?” you ask, and he shakes his head. “Can I…?” You reach up to touch his face and he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. He was cold, but his skin was still as soft as you remembered. You timidly moved your fingers down to his lips and he gasped, revealing his fangs. You pulled back quickly, but he opened his eyes, which were darker than you remembered, and looked at you reassuringly. You touched his fangs and he groaned.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No…” He grabs your wrist gently and pulls it away. “That’s enough.”

You knew you should be running away screaming. You should be telling yourself that this couldn’t possibly be your Gabe, but something told you that it was. The man you were going to marry was standing in front of you as a thing you only heard about in books and movies.

“You’ve been here all this time?”

“Yes.”

“And can you really only come out at night?”

“Something like that. I don’t burn in the sun or anything, but it does make me weak. I am most powerful at night and when I feed.” He looks at you to gauge your reaction, but your face reveals nothing. “You finally perfected that poker face, huh?” he jokes and in that moment, he was the Gabe you remembered.

You laugh, and it makes him smile. You didn’t realize how much you missed his smile until you saw those pearly white teeth. Sure, they were a bit different now, but he still smiled the same. He still sounded the same and…you couldn’t believe this.

When you run up to him and hug him, you can tell he wasn’t expecting it. He stands there stiffly for a bit then you finally feel his arms wrap around you. “Don’t let go, Gabe.” He kissed the top of your head and cried. “Please…”

“I will hold you as long as I can,” he says, and he squeezes you just a little tighter.

There was a lot you had to ask. There was a lot you had to think about, but right now you let him hold you and you held him. You cried with him and told him you loved him. Right now, you only cared about having him back, no matter how or what made it possible.

You look up at him and smile, “Happy Halloween.”

He laughs, showing off those fangs you should be afraid of. You hesitated, but stood on your tip toes and kissed him. It felt different but also the same. His lips were colder than you remembered but still just as soft. He pulls away and places his hand on your cheek, “Happy Halloween.”

#Gabriel Reyes #Reaper #Overwatch Reaper #Dracula Reaper #Overwatch #reader insert #headcanon

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chelsfic · 4 years

Text

Tear You Apart - Dracula/OFC One-shot

A/N: I wrote this in response to a post from @dracula-s-bride in which they requested a “one shot where [Dracula] fucks OC’s brains out into oblivion.” My filthy mind immediately went to the scene at the Convent and Dracula fucking a nun amidst the carnage he’d created. So…that’s what I wrote. I really just wanted to spend more time in the head space of that scene. Unapologetic, much? YIKES!

Warnings: Murder, Non-con, Blood drinking (I mean…)

Rating: Explicit as hell

Sister Evangeline averts her gaze as the demonic form stalking outside the convent gates manifests into the shape of a very tall, very naked man. She fixes her eyes to the weathered cobbles and tightens trembling fingers round the wooden stake in her hands. Her arms are tucked close to her body, her shoulders hunch forward in an unconscious attempt to make herself appear smaller to avoid the predator’s notice.

She’s never felt such visceral fear in her life. It’s so intense she thinks she will either faint or be sick. Her sisters feel the same. Waves of terror pass from one nun to the next at the man’s words and actions. Had she not personally witnessed him crawl forth from the wolf’s twitching body she might take him for a madman. But as the confrontation between him and Sister Agatha plays out she learns he’s something far more frightful.

Count Dracula. The devil incarnate.

Once she allows her eyes to wander upward she finds she cannot look away. His naked skin glows in the light of the torches as if kissed by hellfire. His lips spread in a feral smile as he flicks his eyes from one stunned face to the next finally settling on hers and holding her captive in his hypnotic gaze. His voice rings through the courtyard, addressing them all, but his eyes stay focused on Evangeline.

“The first one to invite me in stays at my side!” he announces. “The others I will tear apart and LADIES! I will. Take. My. Time. One should never rush a nun…”

An icy shiver creeps down her spine at his words and she feels her feet moving of their own accord, stepping forward as her lips part to speak the words. Count Dracula’s smile widens and his eyes blaze in anticipation but Sister Agatha interrupts before she can utter the invitation that would doom them all. Agatha’s bold intervention saves her and Evangeline falls back in line with the others, panting in shock at the sin she’s nearly commited. Lord, save me, she prays to a resounding, oppressive silence from the cosmos.

Once Agatha has turned the demon away the sisters gather in the chapel for prayer. Mother Superior stands before them and her words are uplifting, inspiring, an answer to the emptiness she’s felt inside when her prayers go unanswered. She must look within herself for the voice of her God. She must find His strength in her own strength.

It’s a moment of pure serenity and peace after the misery of the confrontation outside. She bows her head in a prayer of gratitude just as the echo of sharp footsteps sounds from the corridor. Evangeline looks up in time to see the monster, Count Dracula, standing inside the chapel holding Mother Superior’s severed head aloft, grinning in delight as the nuns begin a chorus of screams.

Evangeline’s throat closes shut, she wheezes and gasps desperate to drag air into her lungs but her body shuts down in panic. Dracula stands before them, resplendent in his tailored suit and long, dark cape. The perfect image of a refined gentleman. Yet his actions and words are savage. He tosses the head into the crowd of terrified nuns, taunting them with their own impending death. Evangeline crouches on the stone floor, cowering beneath a pew. Some of her sisters are braver than she. They stand up, wielding their crucifixes against the vampire. At first it appears effective but Evangeline watches the Count from her hiding place as he settles casually into a chair, spreading his cape beneath him and leaning back with an air of one about to take in a show.

“So…” he begins, in a conversational tone as if holding twenty nuns hostage and threatening their lives is an everyday occurrence, “I suppose I’ll just have to control myself. But–between you and me–controlling wolves is just so much more fun…It’s a question of who you’d rather have tear you apart, I suppose. You have a choice of course. I’m undead, I’m not unreasonable.”

At his words the first howls begin sounding from just outside the chapel doors. Evangeline climbs farther under the pew, tucking her legs in close to her body as she watches a whole pack of wolves race by her and begin lunging at the crowd of nuns in the center aisle. Her lips tremble and a wail of sorrow escapes her throat before she slaps her hands over her mouth, muffling hysterical sobs. From her spot beneath the first pew she can see only the Count’s gleaming, polished shoes and the bottom of his cape. But she hears everything. The screams, the moans, the horrid ripping sound of teeth rending limb from limb. It goes on for hours. Or minutes. She can’t be sure. The whole time she lays curled in a ball, rigid and terrified of making a single movement or sound that would attract attention.

It ends with a resounding, chilling silence. Evangeline is frozen in place, desperately trying to control her heavy breathing. She can see the dead, glassy eyes of Sister Camille staring at her from the place she’d fallen mere feet away from her. She hears the low whines of the wolves, the soft padding of their paws over the flagstone floor. And she sees Count Dracula’s well-shod feet. He hasn’t moved from his seat at the front of the chapel.

Evangeline moans in terror when she addresses her, “You can come out now, little one.”

She doesn’t move an inch. She could not move even if she wished to do so. Her muscles are rigid, her limbs locked into place. With no point in further concealment she finally allows herself to cry. The wolves quirk their ears and lick their lips as they catch the soft sounds of her cries and the rich scent of her still-flowing blood.

“Now, now, Sister, do as you’re told. Unless you’d like me to have one of my pets drag you out from under there…” Dracula sounds intrigued by the idea.

Mustering all of her remaining strength, Evangeline crawls out from under the pew, exposing herself to the gleaming predator gaze of both wolf and vampire. She spider walks backward until her back meets the chapel wall, putting as much distance between herself and them as she can. The wolves are held at bay for now. There are six of them and they stand immobile around the Count. Awaiting his command.

She looks up into the vampire’s face, quaking at the sight of his cruel smile and cold eyes.

“Tell me your name,” he commands, rising from his seat and stalking toward her. His cape flows into place around him lending even more severity to his already intimidating height. He walks until the tips of his polished shoes brush the fabric of her habit. Evangeline is forced to crane back her neck to meet his eyes as she addresses him.

“My name is…” she tries to inject her voice with Sister Agatha’s bravery, “Sister Evangeline of St. Mary’s Convent.”

Dracula smirks down at her and holds out a hand before her tear streaked face. Evangeline stares at it for a moment, the long, elegant fingers tipped with wickedly sharp points. Drawing in a shaky breath she reaches up and places her small hand in his. She half expects him to crush her hand in a bruising grip, but he merely tightens his hold gently and assists her in getting to her feet.

“Evangeline,” he stretches out the syllables on his tongue, “I’ll give you the same offer I gave the others: Who would you rather have tear you apart, darling? The wolves? Or me?”

His hand on hers effectively holds her in place as the wolves circle them, baring their teeth and growling low in their throats. Evangeline’s eyes flick wildly back and forth, dancing between the genteel murderer before her and the hungry wolves all around. One of the wolves lunges forward and snags the edge of her habit in his powerful jaws, tugging the material and starting to pull Evangeline away.

“No!” she screams, reaching out her hands to clutch at the vampire’s sleeves. “No, no, please, not the wolves.”

Dracula’s face lights with pleasure and he dismisses the wolf pack with a wave of his hand. The animals slink out of the chapel leaving Evangeline alone with the monster. He steps into her personal space, gathering her up in his arms and holding her to his chest in a parody of a lover’s embrace.

He bends his head forward to whisper into her ear, lips brushing sensuously against her skin, “I hoped you’d choose me, Evangeline. I knew there was something special about you.”

Evangeline quakes, her knees grow weak and she sags bonelessly into his arms.

“P-Please, Count Dracula,” she hisses, all thoughts of brave martyrdom fleeing her head. “Spare me.”

Dracula rolls his eyes at her and scoffs, “Don’t be boring, Evangeline. I can stomach a lot of things but not boring.”

She watches, wide-eyed as he raises a hand and softly unfastens the neck piece from her garment. The cowl and veil fall to the ground allowing soft waves of auburn hair to spill over her shoulders.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes drawn to the hollow of her throat, the flesh pulsing with the erratic rush of blood beneath the surface. “Now, I’ll need you to try to calm yourself, Evangeline. Panic tends to sour the taste…”

He draws her closer into his arms all the while Evangeline is looking round for a means of escape. She struggles in his grip but Dracula puts a stop to that with a bruising squeeze of her upper arms and and a sharp hiss of annoyance. She hears the wolves in the courtyard echo him with their mournful howls and knows in her bones that there is no escape. No hope. She stills then, eyes shutting against tears.

Dracula leans back and unclasps the cape from around his neck, spreading the billowing cloth onto the cold flagstone floor as a makeshift blanket.

“Come, now,” he beckons, sitting down on the rich velvet lining of the cloak. “Sit with me for a while.”

Evangeline kneels down next to him on the cloth, relieved not to have to support herself on weak knees any longer. Even sitting down the Count looms over her. She looks up into his face and…simply waits. She is completely under his power and his earlier words have made her afraid even to beg for mercy. The Count brings a hand up to her face cupping her cheek and running his fingertips across her lips, over her chin and settling around the base of her neck. He feels her pulse raging under his touch as he begins to speak.

“It won’t hurt. I’ll make it like falling asleep into the loveliest dream. Won’t that be nice?” he soothes, gently rubbing his fingers against her pulse point, holding her wide-eyed stare. “I’ll hold you in my arms, place a kiss on that lovely throat, and then you’ll be gone from here. No pain. No fear.”

Evangeline’s pulse still thunders under his fingers and her breathing is erratic. With a sigh Dracula places a hand on her chest and gently pushes her back until she’s lying on the cape.

“Well,” he says, propping himself up on an elbow to lean over her, “I have a little bit of time. No need to rush.”

He slides his palm over the fabric of her habit, dragging it over her breasts, her waist and settling on her hip where he kneads the flesh with a possessive touch. He bends forward and brushes his lips over hers in a slow, tender kiss. Evangeline’s breath catches in her throat, her thoughts stuttering to a halt as he continues the kiss, stroking her plump lower lip with his tongue, probing inside her mouth. He buries a hand in her hair, tangling in the soft locks as he gives her her first…her last kiss.

“There, now,” he mutters into her lips. “See how nice it can be, Evangeline? We can’t let you die a virgin, can we?”

With this last question he starts hiking up the skirt of her habit and bunching it round her hips. Evangeline feels a flash of alarm that lasts a second before he’s reaching underneath and cupping her sex in the palm of his hand. She gasps at the intrusion, at his bold, confident touch. It sends a thrilling shock wave through her body and she feels herself arch involuntarily into his touch for a second before recalling herself and shrinking back slightly.

The Count is relentless in his ministrations, though. He strokes his long, elegant fingers against her through the fabric of her drawers, pressing the heel of his palm into her sensitive mound in a rhythmic motion, kindling a sweet ache inside her that pulses and stutters. She pants and moans, writhing under his fingers and looking up at him in a look that mingles arousal, awe and horror. Dracula smiles down at her, reveling in the nun’s undoing.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises as he snakes his hand up and under the waist of her drawers, delving into the wet apex of her thighs. “Do you want more, Evangeline?”

He pauses and lets his fingers hover over her hypersensitive flesh awaiting her response. Evangeline turns her face away, staring up at the crucifix on the wall and gasping in frustrated pleasure. She wants more. God save her.

“Yes,” she whispers, eyes still trained on the image of her Savior, witness to her sin.

Dracula grasps her chin in his fingers and turns her to face him, his eyes blazing with intensity, “Tell me.”

Evangeline’s cheeks flush a bright crimson of humiliation and shame as she says the word more firmly, “Yes.”

The vampire’s lips spread in a wicked smile and he caresses her face almost lovingly, “You really are something special, Evangeline.”

He places a soft kiss on her lips and then slithers down her body, disappearing beneath the folds of her habit. Evangeline’s eyes widen and her mouth falls open when she feels him slide off her drawers and press his mouth against her. He licks, kisses and strokes her in her most intimate place. The slip of his tongue against the tender bundle of nerves at her apex causes her to buck in shock and pleasure and she’s mortified to find that she’s reached down to run her fingers through his thick, black hair, holding his mouth in place against her and urging him to continue with his kisses until she feels the waves of pleasure within her quiver and suddenly peak.

As the nun shivers through her orgasm, Dracula sinks his fangs into the inside of her thigh, tapping the femoral artery and gorging on the rich blood that floods his mouth. His fingers dig into her hips, holding her still as he feasts. He tastes the wanton pleasure coursing through her veins, the sweet tang of wonder at the new feelings inside her, and the hollow echo of shame she experiences at breaking her vows. He takes it all in, drinking her soul and stealing her essence. The tension in her body ebbs as the orgasm passes and the blood loss starts to weaken her. Dracula pulls back, his mouth splashed with the bright red stain of blood, and crawls up her body.

Evangeline’s eyes are closed and her head is thrown back, a soft smile on her lips. She looks utterly debauched and…perfect. Dracula bends down and captures her lips in a slow kiss, forcing the taste of her own blood into her mouth.

“Are you ready now, Evangeline?” he asks, brushing his lips over hers as he speaks. He runs his fingers through her hair in a touch that’s gentle and almost comforting. His eyes are soft, a mockery of sympathy and caring as he looks down at her.

Evangeline looks back at him, still fuzzy in the aftermath of pleasure and nods her head slowly. She’s ready. Ready for what, again?

Dracula shifts his body until he’s hovering over her, his hips aligned with hers and his face tucked into the crook of her neck. He reaches down to free his straining cock and she feels the press of him against her, the stretch and sudden fullness as he pushes forward, the echo of a stinging pain as his fangs pierce the skin of her throat. And then she’s lost again on waves of bliss.

Dracula writhes over the nun’s form, lost in his lustful frenzy and pounding her ruthlessly as his teeth tear into her neck. He’s under a spell, overwhelmed by the eroticism of her hot, pulsing blood flowing over his tongue as he sheaths himself in her tight little cunt. He reaches his hands down to cup her buttocks, kneading the soft, round flesh with his razor sharp claws.

Evangeline is far away. She’s conscious of the pleasure of the vampire’s kiss and the blissful burn of surrender as he takes her virginity. But she’s dreaming too. Dreaming of the fields in springtime. The yellow flowers and the big, fat bees that spin lazily in the air. Dreaming of her father’s house, he’s still alive and they are so happy. The images are conjured, injected with the vampire’s venom, but they are beautiful and comforting. She clings to them as the images begin to blur and the colors bleed together. Her body feels so, so far away now.

Dracula groans in pleasure as he releases her from his “kiss.” He arches back and spills his seed inside her, coming with a final, ferocious thrust of his hips. His little nun is barely conscious and whimpering in her sweet slumber. He carefully pulls out, tucking himself back into his trousers and sitting back to regard her little body. Not yet a corpse. Still enough life left in her…

He stands and wraps the girl in the rich red and black fabric of his cloak, picking her up and cradling her to his chest.

“Sweet little nun,” he whispers into her hair as he places a kiss on her forehead. “I’m going to make you last.”

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