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nosferatvpussy · 16 days ago

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distorted lullabies [chapter XXVII]

Word count: 4k

Warnings: gets a little brutal

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link | masterlist

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I watched the Robert Eggers Nosferatu, ran home and finished this chapter. I was stuck on it for I don't know how long. Hope you like it <3 Happy 2025 - it'll be 5 years since I started this, let's hope it doesn't take another 5 to finish the next 5 final chapters.

The cabbie swore under his breath when I slammed the door after me. I gave him my address, cracked the window open and breathed in the smell of rain on pavement and on the nearby Kensington Gardens in an attempt to cleanse my senses of Mallory’s bitter anger.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered to myself. Swearing fixed nothing but it was often relieving.

It was all escaping my control. All of it.

Months ago, I had thought myself so smart when proposing that deal to Count Dracula. I really thought I could win that, or was that my prideful ego poking its head out again? A latent deathwish, that’s what I had, and there came death prancing to my door and tempting me with a delicious form of self destruction. That’s what I had done, utterly destroyed my former self, not without struggle and not without loving my own destroyer, and yet, through it all, I never considered the safeguards of my deal would fail. When I proposed to Dracula that he would only turn me into a vampire when I told him to, that I would die on my terms, I fully thought I was in control. Handled. As easy as winning an argument in court.

Of course, had I known all the variables, I would’ve thought of more safeguards. Not that they would have mattered. This slow withering of my human self was surely a blessing compared to utter obliteration of my humanity. This way I could at least ease myself into what being a vampire entailed.

On the other hand, simply being turned must be like ripping a band-aid off. One day I could walk in the sun, and the next I was changing day for night and drinking blood. Easier perhaps.

Dracula threw it in my face how I had been taking note of my ever increasing heightened senses and ignored it all. My singular thirst for his blood had already started to translate to thirst for human blood — Julia’s scarlet blood spurting from her delicate neck right into my killer’s, lover’s, maw, for instance, and now Mallory’s pulse ringing in my ear like a church bell calling for mass.

All of that, even the unbearable pain of growing fangs I could bear, perhaps, and could learn to control it.

Dracula always did say that I had better self control than he did. The fact that I had lacked control in hypnotising Mallory, practically taking a backseat while the blossoming vampire took over control not only of myself but of her, was the scariest part. A desperate attempt to keep Mallory close, and I had no choice in it.

The car came to a stop across the street from my house and I parted ways from the cabbie. Pulling my trenchcoat up to shield myself from the pitter patter of rain, I looked down the street, two houses after mine, and sure enough, the police car who had followed the cab all the way from V&A was now parked. I raised a hand in greeting to the two officers, even though I didn’t know their faces, and they waved back.

I fished my keys and phone from the bottom of my purse, and rang Dracula as I unlocked my door. I kicked the door shut behind me and went upstairs to my bedroom as I waited for him to pick up.

Voicemail answered.

It was still daylight, so Dracula was most likely asleep, and he slept like the dead. If Renfield hadn’t arrived yet – an usual occurrence after dusk to carry out his services – the call would probably go unnoticed.

I called him again and put the phone on speaker as I threw my purse on the bed. The sound of raindrops hitting the window glass was muffled by the thickness of my curtains when I pulled them shut. Enclosed in darkness, I slipped out of my clothes until I was left in my underwear.

The phone’s beep was cut short as the call was answered. “Yes, my darling?” Said Count Dracula in his velvety voice. “How was it?”

The familiar weight of his voice made me sit down on the bed, half naked and vulnerable as if he had spoken to me within the room.

I almost wished I had gone back to his place instead of mine to feel some comfort. It was a silly thing to wish for. After last night, when Dracula had celebrated what my pain meant, disregarded my fear, my despair, all because I was finally a perfect bride to be, it would be stupid to think he would react any differently to what I had done to Mallory.

“It was fine,” I replied, lying down on my bed. I put the phone to my ear. “No surprises. Mallory is still mad at me. She doesn’t want to see me again.”

“Well, nothing that can be done for that anymore, I suppose. Where are you now?”

“I came home. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’ll try to get some rest in the afternoon.”

I counted three heartbeats before he replied.

“Will you come by later?”

I knew him well enough at this point to know that he had fought his initial instinct to question me. He knew I was scared, and I knew he was scared that I would run out of fear. The fact that he hadn’t questioned me boded well in a way. Progress.

“Not tonight,” I said in a small voice, staring at my ceiling and noticing a spiderweb on the corner. The silky brightness of the web glimmered as if the spider could tailor webs made from light. By the size of it, the spider had made a home in my room for some time now. Only now did I have the eyes to notice it, and yet, in the darkness of the room, I shouldn’t have been able to see it. “I don’t think I can handle being close to another person tonight.” Realising how that sounded, I continued. “All I can think about is blood. It’s a wonder I didn’t make a victim out of the cabbie on my way here. I would rather not risk it again.” Dracula laughed on the phone. I winced. “At least you’re having fun.”

“Y/N, of course I am,” he said, a smile on his voice. “Nothing will make me happier than seeing you take your first victim.”

“This isn’t fun for me!” I jerked myself upright on the bed. “Can you try being understanding for once? For fuck’s sake!”

“Understanding?” The word was bitten out. “I have been nothing if not understanding so far.”

“Yes, it was very understanding how you almost killed Diana. So very kind of you to grant me a few more days after you used Mallory against m–”

“I’m not having this conversation again.”

“Then listen to this. I understand that you finally have confirmation that I’ll survive the change and that you’re happy about that. Great! At least I won’t be a shell of myself like your first brides. I think it’s fucking amazing, too, but it is not easy for me.” I inhaled deeply as if saying so much had stolen my breath. “I don’t know how to deal with this.”

“You had months to come to terms with it, Y/N. You asked me hundreds of questions. I showed you all that I could.”

“It doesn’t make it any less scary!” My face fell to my hand as my hair fell around my face like a curtain. “I didn’t think I would have to try to control myself while still human.” Tears fell to my bed, synchronising with the rain outside. “Please, can you try finding some compassion in yourself? I have no one but you now.”

“I don’t understand, Y/N,” he said. He sounded calm, and sincere. “But I will make an effort to. If you allow me to, I would like to take some of your blood tonight and see for myself.”

Closing my eyes, I let my weight go and lied on my side with the phone pressed to my ear against the bed. The knot on my throat joined the ever growing pain on my head and jaw. Another migraine was coming.

“You have my permission.” I sighed. That was the best he could do at the moment, and I would take it. “And then we'll talk.”

“And then we’ll talk,” he repeated. “Darling, have a shower or a bath. Try to take yourself out of your body, if you can.”

“I’ll try to sleep, and dream, hopefully.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Two beeps indicated that the call disconnected.

I rolled over on my back and stretched my arms at each side of me. What remained of my tears ran down my cheeks and dried on my hair.

There was nothing to stop it now.

This was it. I was not dying on my terms, but Dracula’s.

Food didn’t taste the same – from an old brew of reheated tea, to a simple strawberry scone becoming nauseatingly sweet and finally everything was starting to acquire a dry tastelessness. Migraines ensued after eating what my body could no longer accept. Perhaps the pain was the body trying to purge the unnecessary nutrition that food provided, while also begging for something else. It was happening now after trying, and failing, to eat my favourite sandwich from V&A Café. It had happened at the party as well, although the circumstances made it worse. And the very first time was the day after I had drunk deep mouthfuls of blood from Dracula’s wrist while overlooking the city from inside the London Eye.

I ran my tongue over my teeth to feel the small bumps on my gums, which throbbed in response to that prodding. Tiny fangs threatened to protrude from there as they had last night. After drinking Dracula’s blood they had virtually disappeared. Their insistence to make their presence known was a harsh, and painful, reminder of what I could have done to Mallory.

And wanted to do. Still did.

I raised my arms in the air. The wounds were almost gone, leaving only pale outlines of where Dracula had bitten me two nights ago.

His first bite had taken weeks to heal completely.

A chill coursed through me that made all the hairs on my body stand up straight. Only then did I realise how cold I was. I pulled my duvet around me, cocooning myself within it and closed my eyes, wishing I would be pulled away to somewhere else, or to another life where I had already dealt with everything and was living happily ever after. A nice fantasy.

In my dream, I was cocooned by wings which whisked me away, sending me floating into the comforting, soft clouds of dreamland. I breathed in and out to savour the sweetness in the air. In and out. In and out. Like teeth biting and releasing. In and out. Sharp teeth and red blood. Sweet, red and intoxicating.

I don’t want these dreams.

Conscious in the back of my mind, I managed to push the thoughts out, and quickly my subconscious conjured Dracula’s presence to run his hands down my back, massaging, kneading and counting my bones as he had done once to put me in a trance. I counted each bone aloud. Would my bones change too? Become hard and unbreakable? Yes, darling, said death, you are wholly different down to the last bone. His hands, so rarely delicate, turned me gently and I stared up into the dark pits of his eyes. Smiling, he said he would like a taste of his beloved.

His beloved – me.

Say you love me. This is my dream, I can make you say it in my dream.

Anything for his beloved, he said, anything I wanted if only I allowed him a taste first. Obligingly, eager, I turned my head to the side to expose my neck in exchange for his love.

And love poured on me. Cascading, washing over me, so warm, comforting, so red, all enveloping, filling my lungs, my throat, until I was made of love and could feel nothing else.

A pull near my navel jerked me awake.

I stared at the ceiling as my brain finished waking up. Rolling on the bed I looked towards the window, and although the curtains were closed, the light escaping from the corner had to mean it was still daylight.

The pit of my stomach jerked again and growled, begging for substance. My hands covered it automatically, as if trying to stifle the sound and soothe it.

Footsteps coming from the lower floor reached my ears.

I lied there, in wait, processing that there was someone in my home and I had heard it walls and metres away.

For once in this life, I wondered who was more in danger – myself or the intruder?

Something coiled behind my navel. I wondered if it was just hunger — and what sort of hunger was this? For food or something else? – or my new found instincts playing up as they often did when I was around Dracula.

Pushing myself out of bed, my toes pointing and landing, carefully as if I was a ballerina to not make any noise, I made my way to the corridor. As I hugged the bannister, the cold wood touched the naked skin on my stomach, and only then did I realise that all I wore was a bra and hot pants. Returning to my room, I grabbed my robe, a navy blue silk that somehow always disguised the fact that I had just woken up.

On the first landing of the stairs, trying to keep as silent as possible, I crouched to peek around the bannister to catch a glimpse of my living room, populated only by my library and a coat thrown over the couch.

A meow echoed up, coming from the kitchen, and a woman’s voice cooed back, “I know, baby, let’s see if aunt Y/N has anything for you.”

“Di?” I called.

“Oh, Y/N!” She exclaimed from downstairs, unseen. “I didn’t expect you to be home. I’m sorry to barge in.”

“No worries. I’ll be down in a second.”

Diana, cradling one of her cats like a baby, smiled at me when I turned the corner on the kitchen. Another one of her babies, a tuxedo cat, twirled between her legs, meowing non stop.

“I swear I’m not usually this nosy– hey, stop squirming, I know you’re hungry.” She adjusted the calico cat on her lap, Hedy Lamarr, and the other one at her feet was Liz Taylor. She had Laurence Olivier as a cat, as well as Clark Gable, the Hollywood cats, but they were nowhere to be seen now. “I ran out of cat food and tuna so I came to see if you had any left in your pantry,” Di explained, looking apologetic. “I’ve been between meetings all day and couldn’t find the time to run to the store.”

“I think I have some of their food, from when you were in Scotland,” I said, uncrossing my arms and stepping around the kitchen island towards the pantry. Hedy jumped from Diana’s arms to the island, tail swinging in expectation.

“Are you feeling sick?” Diana asked from behind me.

Rummaging through shelves in the pantry, I barely spared her a glance as I continued my search for cat food. “I’m fine,” I said, putting more strength in my voice to make me believe it too. “Why do you ask?”

“Well. It’s Monday 3pm and you’re home in your robe.” At her words, my hand hovered over the box of pasta I was about to move. “And you look dreadful, to be honest.”

“Do I?” I asked, absently.

My mind was torn on wondering how awful I looked and how it could be Monday when I had gone to sleep on a Saturday after brunch with Mallory. Had I lost a day? Slept all through it, or simply did not have any recollection of it?

Neither of those options boded well.

“You look sickly pale, Y/N,” Diana said. “Have you been eating lately?”

“Food poisoning,” I muttered as I closed my hand around a can of cat food. “Here, I found it.” I spun around to give it to Diana and found her too close for comfort. At this distance, I could see the specks of gold and green in her eyes and the fine lines around her eyes that she spent so much money to get rid of. I could smell her breath from here. And yet, she was still at an arm’s distance away. “I need to go back to bed.”

Bed, in the safety of my room, where I could cage myself until night came and so did Dracula.

Pushing the food to Diana, I dodged past her, breath held deep inside my chest, and made way to the hall. Feeling as if my head had disconnected from my neck, I steadied myself against the doorframe as my knees started to go weak. My vision went white.

“Oh love!” Diana exclaimed behind me. A clatter followed by a meow and quick steps echoed in the kitchen before arms encircled my waist, pulling me up. “Gosh, Y/N, you’re heavier than I thought. No matter. Come on, let’s rest in the sitting room.”

“I’m fine,” I grumbled, pushing my forehead against the wall as if that could help me stabilize.

“You don’t look fine. Straighten those legs, come on, can’t do this without you. Hells, I’m getting old, Y/N.” Commanding my brain to focus on one sense, I did as she told me. “Atta girl. Now to the sitting room.” She hugged me close, arms squeezing below my ribs and expelling all the breath I was trying to hold. I gasped for air. Diana’s breath filled my nostrils with the smell of tea, blueberries and yoghurt – her last meal. Concealed beneath that lay a subtle scent, discernible for its lively sweetness.

“Di– I need you to go.” I barely recognised my voice as my own. The thread of consciousness keeping me alert identified a searing pain in my jaw that spiked up to my head.

“Nonsense. One foot in front of the other. Come on,” she huffed, nudging the back of my knees with her legs. She chuckled, the sound so foreign and happy that for a moment I held onto it and the pain of hunger dulled for a second. “Remember when you got home so drunk you couldn’t climb up the stairs? I found you asleep in front of the stairs, covered in all the coats you could find. You looked like a nestled kitten.”

“The day you ordered McDonalds for lunch instead of cooking us lunch on Saturday,” I murmured.

“Sacrilege but yes. First and last time, but you needed a good hangover cure, to be fair, and nothing better than that.”

“You carried me to the sitting room.”

“Pushed you, more like it.” At that, she pushed me a little harder to make my legs move, and my hands flew up to steady myself, finding nothing but air to grasp at. Diana’s shoulder pressed under mine and her hip nudged mine to distribute my weight towards her. My head swivelled, quickly finding a comfortable spot on Di’s arm when my neck proved a little too feeble to carry it. Eyes adjusting through white blotches in my vision, the bite on Diana’s neck peaked back at me between her silver hair. Two punctures glowing at me as a wolf’s glare in the dark. A fat tear formed on the corner of my eye. I closed my eyes in shame, knowing that tear came from desperate hunger and not fear. Deep, ravenous, gut wrenching hunger unlike any I had ever felt. “Y/N, don’t pass out please. Almost to the sofa now. If you fall, you’ll take me down with you.”

Yes, yes, I would.

I bit my lip, and felt a distinct sharpness that should not be there.

“Di, I’m so sorry,” I uttered, hardly believing the words as tears spilled from shut eyes. Wrapping my hand around her arm, telling myself I needed to push her away – please, please, away , AWAY – and instead, it pulled her as in the inescapable grasp of vine that squeezes a tree and constricts its bark, never letting go unless plied off. Unwillingly, my body shifted closer, angling towards Diana. “So so sorry,” I whispered, voice nearing a hiss as my eyes opened again.

I nuzzled closer.

I felt Diana tense up. My grip grew tighter on her instinctively. She could bolt now. Deep in me, just as I knew there was something wrong with me, Diana knew it too. Her fragrance kicked up as her heart spiked with adrenaline.

“You’re scaring me, Y/N.”

“I know. I’m scared too,” I confessed. “Be very still. Very still,” I asked. “I’ll let you go.”

“Let me go,” she echoed. “Y/N, I don’t know what you’re playing at–”

“Disbelief. I’ve been there,” I said, oddly finding empathy while hunger burned hot. “Just be still. It’ll make it easier.” My gaze shot up to Diana’s profile. Her lip quivered as she peered at me from the corner of her eye, as if looking at me straight on would be too much. Somewhere in the house, a drumming started. So loud it startled me and my body jolted.

Diana moved.

But I moved with her as she tried to push me off.

Our arms and legs tangled as this body unexpectedly gained a strength unbeknownst to me. It pinned her arms to her side as it locked around her. She spasmed, trying to fight this body that no longer belonged to me. Hunger was its own entity, and it screamed for sustenance. In the throes of pushing against me, she kicked at my feet and lost balance. We both went down to the floor, all my weight on top of her as if I was the rock tied to her feet that dragged her to the bottom of a lake.

Silver hair spilled on the rug. Revealed, my gaze zeroed in on the crook of her neck where a vein pulsed. I think I heard her scream but the drumming was so loud it was easy to ignore. My unseeing eyes barely registered my friend’s expression before leaning down and biting on the vein that Dracula had shown me.

Blood inundated my mouth, entrancing me completely. A hollow sound escaped from her as her blood slid down my throat like hot honey. Her hands pushed at me and I held them to the ground. Nothing could perturb this feeling. I was gulping light. My skin felt so hot it might have blistered. I lapped up the blood that spurted from those tiny cuts I had made. Too little. A fountain of blood is what I needed. So I bit, ripped with teeth and syrupy blood bubbled up to be savoured. It pulsed in streams with every desperate beat of her heart.

I swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed.

I filled myself up until her hands, intertwined with mine, slowly gave up. Distantly, I heard her gurgling a breath. And with it, the river of blood streaming down my throat slowed to a trickle to match the dying pace of her heart.

My tongue poked at the wounds I had done, pressing them as before in search for the even flow of blood of only moments ago, and this time, I felt the texture of torn skin, ripped to ribbons, the awful rubbery muscles of Diana’s neck touched my tongue back, and I recoiled. I sat back, eyes focusing on the scene beneath me, and I kicked away. The hole I made on her neck seemed to stare at me as if the wound I made had life to accuse me. It gaped, like a second, gory mouth, open in shock.

The stairs poked my spine as I pushed myself back, stopping me in my tracks. What remained of blood pooled under Diana. Scarlet entwined with the silver of her hair, contrasting with the waxy tone she had acquired. She could just as easily be confused with a broken doll, limbs askance, parted lips, and the broken porcelain of her neck.

An awful gasping sound came from her, making me gasp in return and scurrying to her side. Her hands spasmed as I came closer. Somehow still alive and yet when I looked in her eyes, there was barely any light there.

“I am so sorry, Diana. I didn’t mean to. I-I don’t know what to do. Di? Do you hear me? Are you there?”

Her eyes rolled to meet me. Maybe she could survive this - I thought for a second - but her eyes lost the determination as she stared at me, a teardrop running down her cheek, and went empty.

“No- no…” the single word from my lips dragged out in the chilling silence of the hallway.

Knelt before her, my tears poured onto the corpse of my friend.

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