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heuningpie · 7 months ago

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Interview with Felix, the Vampire.

So I watched the movie Interview with the Vampire (luv it so bad omg) and then watched a clip from a Felix live stream immediately after and whatever this is happened. Historical and vampire AU ahead. No warnings for now other than slightly slightly mature (no smut tho... yet)

This is my first time posting my writing on tumblr :) Please do not copy.

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“Surely you jest, my lord.”

A chuckle echoes throughout the church hall.

‘God this is all so stereotypical’ Seungmin thought. But Han was always one for the dramatics.

“Quite on the contrary, my dear friend. She desires it so.”

And it’s true. You did. The minute you saw those alien eyes and elven features you were entranced.

—-------------[3 Years Earlier]-----------------------------

Shouts and cheers of celebration rang out in the tavern. It was packed with raucous men on a night like this, the occasional paid prostitute at their sides taking their cut of their men’s gamble to a victory. The poor souls who lost were tossed aside to the dreariness of the dark night. ‘Pity,’ you thought, ‘To lose it all to an ace of spades. Mere ink on paper.’

Of course, you’ve seen it all. The poor get rich, the rich get poor, and everything in between. As a long time barmaid, you can predict a particular night’s outcome with rather frightening accuracy at this point, and something tells you tonight is a strange one.

“Another round!”

A hearty outburst interrupts your train of thought.

“Served by my good luck charm herself!”

The cheery man smiles as he meets your eyes, and you fall into your usual routine for the hundredth time that night. As one of the few barmaids with time enough (and stubborn enough) to work on the nights of gambling, you had been coined as many a man’s good luck charm. Some were insufferable to deal with, while others were simply good men caught up in the moment. Either way, it has become a part of your job.

“Another round for the gentlemen,” you sigh with a tired smile as you approach the card table, two mugs of ale in each hand. Usually you could maintain your air of pleasantness for the length of your shift, even on particularly wild nights, but tonight had been a struggle. It was your sixth nightly shift of the week, and the hours (and aches) were adding up.

You bend to place the drinks on the table and pretend not to notice the men’s blatant lustful stares towards the silver necklace that rests on your bosom. The pendant that usually rests delicately on your chest now feels heavy. You grimace to yourself.

‘You fucking wish, you rakes of men.’

However, there is one gaze that is not quite as lecherous, as its owner manages to catch your eye, exuding a particular air of intrigue.

He did not reach to take a mug of the sweet drink of wheat. Instead, he sits still as he was, golden eyes burning into yours through hair the color of hay. In looks the man was practically sunshine personified.

‘How peculiar of features,’ you ponder to yourself. ‘From what land does he journey?’

He does not play either, merely bets on who he supposes will win.

“A good luck charm, you say?” he quirks an eyebrow at you as he tosses a single chip of a large sum of money in the betting pot like it’s a piece of lint. He speaks in an accent you have never heard and radiates an aura of confidence you have never seen in any town gambler.

“Ah, such bold actions! Are you certain of your bet, good Felix?” A man you’ve come to know as Han asks the man, nudging him on the shoulder playfully.

Felix.

“Quite sure, my lord,” he says as he throws a side smile to Han and moves to lean forward and shake his head downward in an attempt to fluff his hair. Looking to the ground, he takes a moment to adjust the gold and obsidian ring on his middle finger— that to your surprise you did not notice until he rather calmly and indirectly brought it to your attention via his movements— and he breathes a calm sigh.

Felix.

His eyes pierce yours once more as he lifts his head and utters in a much lower tone than before.

“Of nothing else have I been more certain.”

—-------[Present Time]------------------------------------

“Felix!” Han commands the man to appear, and you feel his golden eyes land on you from a distance.

“Are you as certain of your decision as the lady is of her’s?”

Felix’s habit of fiddling with his rings is demonstrated once again before he speaks his words with conviction.

“Of nothing else have I been more certain.”

Oh how different of a sentiment that phrase held for the both of you at this moment. You clutch your now worn pendant and shiver.

How euphoric.

Seungmin sighs. “Then it is done,” he says after a moment of contemplative silence. He then turns to face you from the entrance of the church hall.

“Just… do me a favor. Don’t despise me in the future for allowing this.”

You present him with a warm smile. Underneath that imperturbable and seemingly cold exterior, he always was too kind for his own good.

“I could never,” you reassure him as you reach to cup his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

“This decision is ours,” you speak. Felix now begins to approach you from his place next to Han at the front of the church hall. It seems as if those golden eyes of his will always have their hold on you, as you now stand practically in a trance due to the man before you.

He speaks to finish your earlier sentiment.

“And we will brave all that comes with it.”

—---------------[3 Years Earlier]--------------------------

“All bets placed, gentlemen?” you ask. A chorus of cheers sounds from the riotous group. All you can manage is a small chuckle and a smile to a few of the men already asking for more ale as you grasp the betting pot and shake the coins contained in it for dramatic effect.

“All bets are final, and good luck to you all,” you remark.

As fast as your tired feet will carry you, you walk back to the bar and place the several empty mugs in the wash barrel and the betting bucket in the cabinet next to it (a practice done to ensure no cheating or last minute changing of bets ensues). If you could wash the mugs later and just take a minute to breathe now you would, but it seems the men like to get drunker and drunker by the minute, practically downing the entire 20oz mug in seconds. Once again, you fall into your usual routine. Wash the mugs, pour new drinks, keep the bar counter and tables wiped clean, attend to incoming guests, collect bets, distribute winnings and take losses, etc. At least time didn’t seem to inch by at a snail’s pace anymore.

“Felix!” Han shouts again. “It seems your bravery in a gamble has paid off!”

The victorious man then reveals his cards, causing the muscled man across from him to sigh and toss his cards in the air in exasperation. Mysterious man you’ve come to know as Felix simply smirks to himself, lowers his head, and closes his eyes in what seems to be… relaxation?

“You have bested me once again, Sir Han!” the loser mock-cries. Han chuckles at his actions before saying “Come now, Sir Seo, do not be dispirited so.”

“And pray tell what could possibly lift my fallen spirits at this moment,” Sir Seo fake-wails, continuing to sob in a mocking manner. Han shakes his head, still giggling from the man’s antics. “Ah Changbin,” he says, “You’re almost as dramatic as me sometimes. Almost!”

You begin to make your way over to the table with the betting pot and newly acquired collection pot as well. You also pray to any god that will listen that the men are done for the night, as the bar has almost completely emptied out at this point (save the occasional passed out stray drunkard with not their wits about them enough to find lodgings for the night).

Once you approach the occupied gambling table, you thrust the empty collection pot in front of the man called Sir Seo… or Changbin… your tired brain is not really sure at this point.

“Cough it up, Sir Seo.”

At this point, you had adopted a bit of an attitude. You had grown exhausted of the rowdy men before you (except for the golden-eyed Felix, but that was neither here nor there).

“Yah! How dare a mere waitress take on such a tone with a valued patron!” Changbin shrieks, though he sends a small wink your way to communicate he merely jests.

“Cute,” you deadpan, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Now hand it over.”

The gamblers erupt in guffaws and hoots of laughter.

“It seems your charms are not appreciated here, good sir!” Han teases Changbin.

They continue to howl in drunk elation and shove at each other, neither one of them handing over any losses to the collection pot. At this point you’re ready to whack them over the head with it.

“Do as the woman says.” That deep voice emerges above the noise in an attempt to guide the unruly men, his golden eyes making piercing contact with your brown ones.

“She tires of your boyish antics.”

It wasn’t the most commanding tone he adopted, but he seemed more aware than others of your exhaustion. A sudden feeling of endearment, possibly fondness, washed over you for a fraction of a second.

Retreating from your inner thought, everyone seems to be just as stunned as you are at Felix’s sudden order, but you’re better at concealing it. It wasn’t even necessarily his swiftness to defend you that caught you off guard, but rather his choice of title to you… Woman. You’d been called countless things by the countless men who come to drown their sorrows in alcohol and wealth wagering, some of the common ones being good luck charm, sweets, barmaid, waitress, and harlot, prude, and bitch by the particularly unsavory types, but never a woman. It was something about the way he said it; the shift in his tone, the casual flick of his ringed fingers, and the slight lingering of his eyes on you… To him, you were no trivial barmaid only there to fuel the night’s antics with ale. He saw you as something completely different and much more, and if it weren’t for the shiver that ran down your spine and the sudden goosebumps spreading down the back of your neck, you might have been able to hold his gaze for longer.

To your relief, the night finally comes to a close, the obstreperous gamblers meandering their way back to their lives outside of this tiny tavern. There is one that lingers, though.

Felix.

By now you’ve established that he is not the gambling type (or much of a drinker for that matter). As the sun slowly sank and gave way to a full moon, he merely sat in his seat next to Han and made the occasional bet, leaving his mug of ale full for most of the night and practically never straying his gaze away from yours. So he’s not a drunk, and he’s not a gambler, but he is one thing: confident. Maybe you would be too right now if it weren’t for the way he sits in his chair and observes you wiping counters and sweeping floors, his legs spread and hands resting on his knees in a casual and intimidating manner all at once. Those golden eyes of his almost burn holes in your apron.

Felix…

“Apologies for my rather wild companions, Miss,” he declares, now moving to stand. “Despite their noble upbringings, they revert to classless halfwits when venturing the ton of night.” He then approaches you cleaning the counter, a previously unseen smile gracing his features.

How does a simple smile alter one’s features tremendously so? Before, he was almost… domineering– a word you would practically never use to describe the average bar guest– but as of right now, in this moment, there is no other descriptor that fits him and his bright, gentle smile more than… adorable.

Dear gods above he really did have you under some kind of spell.

His bow to you is oozing with formality and respect as he bends to a full 90 degrees in front of you. You cannot control the slight heat rising to your cheeks.

Even you can admit that he is incredibly charming.

“I shall be financially responsible for any damage they may have caused to your place of livelihood.”

At his words, your eyes widen in surprise and your hands that are scrubbing the counter top freeze for a second before you compose yourself. If you are going to withstand the man before you, then you must remain professional.

“That will not be necessary, good sir. Many a man with no difference of carriage and conduct have been guests of such a tavern as this one,” you reply. “And you need not display such formalities to me, sir. I was simply performing my duties as a bar hostess. You need not bow.”

“You so permit me to stand, Madam?” he asks you from his still bowed position.

“You need not my permission, sir.”

At that, he lifts his head to find your eyes, and you can’t help the blush that blooms from your cheeks. His sweet smile has vanished, now replaced with a small smirk and dear gods above you’ve only just noticed the angle from which his eyes meet yours.

“Is that so?” he quips in a much softer tone as he tilts his head. “I assumed a composed and industrious woman such as yourself would require some… convincing.”

You begin to scrub the already clean counter next to you with even more vigor.

Remain. Professional.

“It is only a bow you speak of. It presents itself to me and anybody else only as long as you permit it to, sir.”

You hear no immediate response from him, choosing not to risk a glance at his enchanting features again lest you melt. What you do hear is the familiar rustling of clothing as he does move to stand. Finally deciding the counter is clean enough– practically sanded down from your aggressive scrubbing– you walk with haste to stand behind the bar only so that you can toss the dirty rag into the wash bin, not because you could feel the beginning embers of a hot flame in your chest and felt you needed to put some distance between you and felix lest your body bursts aflame.

What is it about this man? Yes, he is honestly quite pretty, but you’ve seen plenty of dashing types mill about this bar. Sure, he wears very elegant, almost ancient looking jewelry on his hands and ears and around his neck, but working at a gambling bar you have certainly seen that before! All sorts of people come from all sorts of places just to make it to the one place in a 100 mile radius they can gamble and drink their troubles away for one night, so why oh why out of all of those hundreds to thousands of faces you’ve seen come and go, does this man’s enchant you so? He is not a wizard for christ's sake!

“And what does the beautiful barmaid do once every ruffian patron and vagabond stumbles their way out of the quaint little gambling bar?” Felix asks, interrupting your rather passionate internal monologue about him. You turn to face him once more, though you stay behind the bar counter (it feels like your only protection right now). Before you can even begin to manage a response, you can’t help but inhale a quiet gasp at the new proximity between you and the yellow-haired felix. He has sat himself down comfortably at one of the bar stools, specifically the one right in front of where you are behind the counter. Although he is much closer now to you than he has been all night, you do not feel threatened or the immediate need to step back and widen the distance between you two. In fact, you stay planted precisely where you are as you speak your answer to his question.

“Well I strip myself of these rags, slip into my dress of the finest dyed silk, and catch a carriage ride to my castle,” you say with a proud tone. You notice Felix’s lips curl into the faintest of smirks at your response. “After all,” you continue, “My servants can only survive without my direction for so long.”

You then do something that even five minutes ago you wouldn’t have ever thought of doing– you lean forward and rest your elbows on the counter, hands supporting your face that is now even closer to Felix’s, eyes fixed on his. Whatever trance he’s got you under, you let him keep you there for now. The man makes no move to change his position.

“Servants?” He asks.

“Oh yes. And quite a few at that,” you quip, “Though I need not describe all of that to you, good sir. With the opulent finery you don on your person, I doubt you are at all unfamiliar with the work of servants.” You hold steady eye contact with him now.

“Hm. I never felt I needed servants in my long life,” Felix muses.

“Long life? With all due respect sir you hardly appear to be twenty-five years of age.”

His hand casually flicks in the air at your statement as he responds, “Regardless, I have had much time to acquire companions such as the ones you witnessed gambling earlier this evening. I already possess all the help I could possibly need.”

For a moment you see Felix’s eyes soften as a small smile graces his face. You choose not to talk right away, using the serene silence to just appreciate the man’s features. Felix must take note of your own softened manner towards him, as he quietly and good naturedly laughs. Laughs? No, giggles. He giggled and blinked his eyes in the most endearing way.

If anyone was a living, breathing embodiment of duality, it would be him.

“You are quite charming, however you did not properly answer my question earlier,” the man tells you.

“Well what exactly is it you want to know?” You’re still leaning on the bar counter, now practically hanging on to his every word.

“Who are you?” Felix asks, moving to rest his own elbow against the counter, “when you are not a barmaid?” You break eye contact with him to watch his free hand now on the counter start to drift towards you, his fingers dragging almost delicately across the counter top. Gooseflesh breaks out over your arms.

“When you are not cleaning, making drinks, collecting bets…”

His hand continues drifting, only stopping when the tips of his fingers are resting on the counter mere centimeters away from your arms. You release a small breath you didn’t know you were holding in at the almost-contact. What was that? You wondered. Were you hoping he would… touch you? This man, practically a stranger? You look back up at him only to see he has not once broken eye contact with you. While you gazed at his hand possibly touching you, all he could see was your eyes and the way your face revealed a subtle tension taking over your person.

“When you are not giving your evening to others, who are you?”

This time when he spoke his voice was deeper than before, sending shivers down your spine. You have to momentarily collect yourself before you can speak again, but you choose once again to not answer his question.

“Felix,” you draw upon your memory of what his companions called him earlier in the night, fully aware he has not informed you himself of his name. His eyes widen slightly and lips part at the choice from you. You choose not to look but you swear you could feel the faintest brush of his fingers against your arm. “From where do you venture to this quaint little gambling bar?”

~~~

Okay hi that's all I have so far <3

I hope it made sense and you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you thought! I would like this to continue into a full story, but I'm not sure...

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