#lestat was the only person in his life who truly saw him but did not judge him and offered him what he most needed

[bluebear-d]

1x01 In Throes of Increasing Wonder // 1x07 The Thing Lay Still

[immortalconclusions]

🌹

“Forgive me for asking, but then how do I fit in?” David asked. “If he didn’t want me for a lover, then who did I remind him of? Which ghost from the past am I? His father?”

“It’s not outside the realm of possibility. Lestat is always trying to build a family around himself, the stable family unit he never had. You see, many believe he created Claudia to bind me to him, and that is true. But he also made her for himself. He had tried before us, with Gabrielle and Nicolas and then Marius. A mirror image of our triptych: two parental figures, and his lover. But it failed. It failed so miserably. So the next time around he tried to be a parent himself. He would have more control that way, you see. And it worked. It worked better than he had imagined or hoped. Only he didn’t really know how to be a father or a spouse, not really, which was not his fault I suppose. And so our family, happy as it was, was doomed from the start. You, as both parent and child to him, may be an attempt to recuperate both of his losses.”

“So that is what he is trying to do by bringing us here then? He is trying to...bind us together as a family unit?”

Louis laughed through his nose. A delicate little snort. So perfectly, artfully dismissive. He did not comment. 

David shifted uncomfortably. “But you, Louis...do you want me in this family?”

Louis shrugged one shoulder elegantly.  “I think first you should see for yourself what it means to be in this family. If history is any indication, most do not survive it. You might be the exception, but I would caution you to examine carefully before you decide you truly know what it means to be a part of it. Lestat is not as kind as you think he is, and neither am I.” 

“I see,” said David. He nodded solemnly, his eyes downcast. “So this, here in Rio, is my trial, so to speak.”

“See if you think it’s worth setting down your Englishman’s roots in this land, or if it’s too savage for you after all.” 

David narrowed his eyes. “Now that’s rather insulting, Louis. I take your metaphor for what it is, but I spent some of the most formative years of my youth in this country. I don’t recall you ever did. And I’m not quite sure what you mean by Englishman’s roots.”

I saw Louis roll his eyes. “Look, David. I don’t care if you think I’m insulting you or not. I simply do not care. I am offering you advice, and you can take it or leave it. I will not repeat myself for your sake.” 

“Very well.”  David straightened up and look hard at Louis for a moment, as if he wanted to stare him down. In a show of his masculinity perhaps. Louis continued staring off into the middle distance and playing with a lock of his hair absentmindedly. I almost laughed. David did not yet understand the power of Louis’ apathy. “You knew his father, didn’t you?”

“I did,” said Louis. “His father was quite frail by the time I met him, so I never knew the monster Lestat describes from his youth. The old man and I got along well, I suppose. He told me a time or two that he wished I was his son instead.” Louis laughed once, harshly. “What a thought. He obviously had no notion of what we were to each other, else he wouldn’t have said that. It surprised me, later, to learn of their past. It struck me that Lestat had no reason to take responsibility for the care of his father. If my own father had treated me that way, I’m not so sure if I would have done the same. I say all this to the point that if Lestat has any regret about doing wrong by his father, it would only be that he didn’t kill him with his own hand.”

“So I am not analogous to his father, say, the way you were to Nicolas.”

Louis waved a hand. “The elder Monsieur just…played chess, drank my wine, napped in his bed, and complained about Lestat. I don’t think you are similar to him in terms of personality, or, well, maybe you are. David, to answer your question, perhaps he just wanted a friend.”

“Hmm,” said David. “A friend. It seems that Lestat has not had many true friends in his long life.”

“That is true.”

David nodded. “I see. That insight is helpful, Louis, thank you for that.”

“Or...” I could hear the subtle change in Louis’ tone. I could tell he was about to say something horrible, and that he had calculated it and he knew what he was doing. I should have run into the room and stopped it, should have prevented everything from crashing down in a chaos of his own design, but I stood frozen in place. “Perhaps the impulsivity of it all was the point. Perhaps it was merely that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and so you are his revenge...on what Magnus did to him. Or both are true, and he wanted to make someone who in equal part reminds him of and understands his pain. As you yourself said, I was given a choice. Both you and he were not.”

I stepped out of the shadows. “What did Magnus do to me, Louis?”

His head snapped around so fast I thought it might break. “Lestat?” 

“What. Did Magnus. Do to me, Louis?” 

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

i saw you mention lestat in an earlier ask... do you take lestat requests? i would love to see a lestat x reader where you meet and he decides to turn you into a vampire if thats okay ❤❤

Yes, I will be taking requests for Lestat! Literally rewatched Interview with a Vampire so I could do this :))) this is my first Lestat fic so I'm still getting used to the character/figuring out how to write within this storyline. Hope you enjoy!!!

Greener Pastures (Lestat De Lioncourt x Reader)

Warnings: blood mention, near death, depression, apathy, etc

Word Count: 1~k

An au where instead of trying to kill Lestat, he grows bored and finds a new companion

You didn't care for parties, especially for the type that New Orleans brought. Sophisticated aristocrats, each with their own secret horrors. You looked into their faces, smiled, and were as polite as you could be. But, minutes later, you knew they'd spill whatever gossip lingered in their heads about whoever left the circle first. It was almost a game. People revealing other people's secrets, trying to pull back someone else's curtain while trying to keep their own closed.

When it came to these sort of gatherings, you kept your mouth closed, stayed in whatever circle your father introduced to you first, and tried not to die of boredom. It was almost amusing, hearing their attempts to defile others with words. Watching the people parade around and pretend. But, truly, if you could, you would've tried to escape such an event. But how could you escape when it was in your own house? What could you do when the walls that were supposed to comfort you seemed lifeless, that every day color seemed to wash away from the world?

He'd taken you for a long walk along the property. You'd never met him before, or you couldn't remember if you did, when he came to rescue you. He interrupted the person that had been talking to you as kindly as he could, and, after a single glance, he stole whatever attention you had.

You glanced at him. He was pretty, like a statue come to life. Long blonde hair, striking blue eyes. You'd complained about the plainness of your life, but Lestat, that was his name, seemed to be anything but. And while he liked to talk, he didn't talk of things that bored you. Yet.

Lestat didn't like to talk about others, you found. He mostly talked about himself. What he liked to do, what he could do. And, still, the more he talked, the less you felt like you knew him. He scraped the top off of who he was, never daring to go any deeper. He didn't say where he was from, who his parents were. He mentioned a Louis and a Claudia, but he never dived into their relation to him. You listened to the man, puzzled as he prattled on. When he said he could play the piano, you dared not to believe him. Surely, not everything he said could be true. With a smile, he promised to play for you sometime.

You'd hardly talked at all that night, and you were half-surprised your voice wasn't a croak from underuse. You asked,

"Where are we going?" As he brushed his hand against your shoulder. He looked over at you, a charming smile on his face as he turned you. Backed you against a tree. He was wearing a silver claw on his thumb, and you shivered as he brushed it against your cheek. An ounce more of pressure and you were sure it would draw blood.

"Nowhere." You were almost disappointed by the proposition, before Lestat added, "You're bored of this place." As he pinched a strand of your hair and pushed it away from your face. "Where would you rather be?" You leaned back against the tree, glancing up into the night. You didn't know for sure, but the answer came to you easily.

"Anywhere. As long as it's-"

"Interesting." Lestat finished for you, and you watched the way his eyes lingered on your lips. The sight embarrassed you, and you turned your head away on instinct. He reached for your chin, drawing your face back to his. "What if I could give you that? A life of endless fascination." You stared at him, confusion in your brow. If this was a jest, you didn't find it funny. But even if he was serious-

"I wouldn't believe you." You whispered. Lestat was, by far, the most interesting person you'd ever met. But that didn't mean he, a man after all, could change everything. He tutted, making a comment about how disbelieving you were. But, to some degree, you thought he enjoyed the opportunity to prove himself. Or maybe just to prove you wrong. He held your chin, and you refused to falter under his stare. He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours. Your eyes fell closed, but Lestat pulled back before either of you could deepen it.

He told you to say goodbye to the day and returned you to your home, whispering for you to meet him on the outskirts of the property. And brushed your cheek with a kiss. It was an indecent act, and you watched the way judgemental eyes lingered. When he smiled at you, you knew then that he'd given you little choice. You wouldn't be able to swallow knowing they, the vultures of New Orleans, were pecking at you, and it made your need to escape ever more imperative.

You did as he said, watching both the dawn of the day and the sunset of the night. You watched as the sun rose in a brilliant fire, and sunk into a calm, cool night. And, when you met him near the trees of your property, you didn't know what to expect. You'd packed a bag, assuming that he was here to take you away. That wasn't the only thing he planned on taking.

He took your life, whispering something about a choice as you sat on the brink of death. You stared up at him, his words ringing clear in your ears even as your sight faded.

"Will you come or no?" He asked, and you stared up. It was either that or to die. Your voice was weak and you forced out a,

"Yes." And it only took a few seconds for his blood to fill your mouth.

That very night, he took you to his house. You finally got to place names to faces, but neither of them seemed pleased your sudden arrival. You were still trying to piece together what had come of your life, and, in a moment of carelessness, you let your suitcase slip from your hand. Lestat caught it for you, and Claudia's voice was shrill as she asked,

"What- Who is this?" And Lestat gave them both a brilliant, satisfied smile. He gestured to you, as if you were a new statue or an art piece to present. You lacked any care, and were too busy taking in the new sights. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling settling in your throat.

"Both of you wanted to leave so I've- Well, I've moved on to greener pastures." He said with a laugh, but he was the only one. "This is-" He introduced you, and, finally, your eyes settled on them once more. They were beautiful in the same way Lestat was, in the same way you had become. You recognized that, whatever you now were, they were the same. "They'll be my new companion. So, you and Louis can do whatever it is you two wish to do." The way he waved at him was like a master waving away his servants, as if relieving them of their duty. Of their responsibilities. Perhaps, you realized, that's exactly what he was doing. "Come, come." He said to you, gesturing for you to follow him into the next room with a small smile on his face. You found yourself following him, and reaching to hold his hand as he guided you towards your new life.

[aion-rsa]

Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist

https://ift.tt/39I2zkp

This article contains huge spoilers for Midnight Mass. So help me God if you read this without watching the series first…

The version of Midnight Mass that Netflix advertised still would have made for a compelling horror series. 

An isolated, insular island community? Great. A young, charismatic preacher suddenly coming to town to shake things up? Perfect. That preacher proving capable of performing minor miracles? Love it, no notes! 

Of course, as viewers who have watched at least four episodes of the seven-episode series now know, Midnight Mass has one extra supernatural twist in mind that elevates an already interesting story to true mind-blowing status. Critics were understandably asked to keep this aspect of the show a secret before it premiered. So please indulge me as I finally slay these embargo demons and get it off my chest.

Vampires. Vampires! V-A-M-P-I-R-E-S. VAMPIRES! VAMPIRES VAMPIRES VAMPIRES! Literally like Dracula. And Nosferatu. Anne Rice’s Lestat. Stephen King’s ‘Salem’s Lot. Vampires. VAMPIRES, BRO, VAMPIRES.

For creator Mike Flanagan, a filmmaker influenced by all manner of classic horror, bringing the fanged bloodsuckers to life was a long time coming.

“My favorite vampire movie is (Werner) Herzog’s Nosferatu,” Flanagan told Den of Geek and other outlets prior to the premiere of Midnight Mass. “That film is the vampire story as high art. I also adore From Dusk Till Dawn. I read Dracula young enough for it to really burrow in for me. And I read ‘Salem’s Lot early enough to color an enormous amount of work that I’ll do for the rest of my life.”

Midnight Mass’s depiction of the mythological undead beast and how it can neatly fit into Christian dogma is one of the most satisfying horror twists in years. Now that the truth is out, let’s discuss Midnight Mass and how it conflates vampires and biblical angels. 

Mistaking a Vampire for an Angel

The interesting thing about Midnight Mass is that it clearly takes place in a universe where the average person has no knowledge of what a vampire is. Even Sarah Gunning (Annabeth Gish), arguably the most well-read person on Crockett Island, has to do some research into “porphyria cutanea tarda” (a.k.a. the real life “vampire disease”). This is similar to The Walking Dead’s approach to zombies, in which the “z” word and George A. Romero’s name are never spoken. This strategy in Midnight Mass allows for a truly fascinating case of mistaken identity.

While viewers immediately know that the creature Monsignor John Pruitt (Hamish Linklater) encounters is a vampire, he believes it to be an angel. Given how studied Pruitt is in the Bible and Cathloic theology, it’s entirely understandable why he would think a tall, muscular, bald-headed beast with fangs and leathery wings is an angel. As it turns out, the angels of the Old Testament can be truly terrifying. 

Not all angels are soft-featured human-like creatures with fluffy white bird wings. Some, like Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones are designed to intimidate God’s enemies. In the New Testament’s Book of Luke, an angel visits Zechariah and immediately asks him to “be not afraid” because the angel can see the poor guy absolutely shaking in his boots upon his arrival. Angels being terrifying is even something of an Internet meme, with users contrasting the phrase “be not afraid” with images of truly monstrous beasts. 

Not only does Pruitt’s vampire have the vague appearance of an angel, it also apparently holds the secrets to eternal life as promised in the Bible. By merely drinking some of the “angel’s” blood, a good Christian can live forever just like God says. Does that blood-drinking sacrament sound familiar? It did to Mike Flanagan.

“In Bible school I used to say ‘if the wine turns into Jesus’s blood literally and we’re drinking it so that we can live forever … that seems like a short leap to vampiric myth.’”

Of course, drinking the angel’s fluids in the case of Midnight Mass also leads to some unwanted side effects like a thirst for blood and extreme sensitivity to sunlight. Thankfully, good ol’ Bev Keane always has a Bible quote ready to go for that. When read through the proper perspective, the Holy Bible may as well be the original vampire story. 

The Rules of Vampirism

“The thing that I love about the vampire as a cinematic tool is how malleable it is,” Flanagan says. “We all agree that there is no canon. There are no rules. In fact, part of the joy is seeing what rules people cherry pick as they approach a vampire story.”

All depictions of vampires are indeed quite different. Vampires can range from the classic Stoker-ian monster to Twilight’s nigh-invulnerable sparkle bois. Midnight Mass’s version of the vampire leans towards the classic, albeit with some tweaks. In terms of appearance, The Angel (as we will be calling Midnight Mass’s O.G. vampire for simplicity’s sake) has a more bestial look like Nosferatu rather than an aristocratic one like Count Dracula or Anne Rice’s creations. 

“We winked at (Nosferatu the Vampyr actor) Klaus Kinski a few times when we designed our guy,” Flanagan says.

Though the Angel resembles Nosferatu in appearance, its vulnerabilities owe more to Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles. Religious iconography does not appear to hurt the Angel nor its thralls. Traditional human weapons like bullets or blades also do no harm (at least not mortally). These vampires are, however, tremendously susceptible to both fire and sunlight. Exposure to the latter for even a few seconds is enough to kill the Angel and his many acolytes. 

Read more

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Like in Rice’s works as well, the path to creating a new vampire is quite simple. Step 1: Drink its blood. Step 2: Die. In Dracula and ‘Salem’s Lot, the method of vampire creation is merely being bit by one, zombie-style. Rice and Flanagan’s approach is quite a bit more intentional and interesting. It also opens the door for perhaps Midnight Mass’s most ingenious storytelling quirk: communion. John Pruitt is able to get nearly the entirety of Crockett Island to become a vampire by spiking the communion wine with his buddy’s blood. Then, all that remains is for them to poison themselves to death, Jonestown-style. 

The mass “resurrection” scene in which the congregation awakes as their new vampire selves also provides some insight to just how hard it is to contain the vampire’s overwhelming hunger. Riley Flynn was able to resist it when he turned because John Pruitt babysat him like a psychedelic mushroom guide. The plan for the rest of the congregation was to have their babysitters as well but that didn’t quite work out. Still, Riley’s dad Ed makes it clear to his wife Annie, that even if it’s hard to resist the call for blood, it’s not impossible. 

“When I saw them at the church, I thought it was something they really couldn’t help. Like something impossible not to do. But it isn’t, Annie,” he says.

Maybe if more vampires were like Ed Flynn, a whole island full of vampires wouldn’t be too bad of a thing in the first place. 

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How to Defeat a Vampire

While every vampire story presents its own unique take on the creature, the answer on how to defeat a vampire is usually the same: by doing it together.

“We poor humans only have so much that we can give,” Flanagan says. “We’re ill-equipped as individuals to make any kind of meaningful stand. The only way evil in the world can be brought down is through collective effort. That’s something Stoker understands inherently. It’s clearly something King understands.”

Alongside the aforementioned Bram Stoker and Stephen King, Flanagan presents a small team of humans at story’s end who will do what it takes to defeat evil, even if it means dying in the process. Erin Greene (Kate Siegel), Dr. Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli), Annie Flynn (Kristin Lehman), Warren Flynn (Igby Rigney), and Leeza Scarborough (Annarah Cymone) are the six residents of Crockett Island brave enough to try to take down the Angel. All but two (Warren and Leeza) die. They do succeed in eliminating the immediate threat on Crockett Island but it’s possible the Angel made it away to suck blood another day, damaged wings and all.

What’s interesting about Midnight Mass’s “final crew” is that six appears to be the magic number when it comes to taking down a vampire. Stoker’s Dracula has six heroes: Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker nèe Murray, Arthur Holmwood (Lord Godalming), John Seward, Quincey Morris, and Abraham Van Helsing (of which, only poor American cowboy Quincey Morris dies). King’s ‘Salem’s Lot also has six: Ben Mears, Matt Burke, Susan Norton, Mark Petrie, Jimmy Cody, and Father Callahan (of which, decidedly more than one of them die). This strange bit of arithmancy is something we asked Flanagan about.

“The number was certainly not intentional,” he says. “Once it was clear that Riley was not going to be carrying the torch to the end it really was about asking ‘who are the characters who seem in the very beginning to be at a disadvantage and how do we empower them in the end?’ This was gonna be played out by Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan, and everyone else who would get to just give a little piece.”

Considering that Erin and company were outnumbered about 117 to six, it was a pretty good showing for Crockett Island’s last humans standing.

All seven episodes of Midnight Mass are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[joopiterjoon]

Wishing on a Star | KSJ

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Genre: NC-17, Romance, Fluff?

Warnings/Tags: Vampire!Jin, Biting, Blood, Kissing, swearing, couch grinding, bad Twilight Series references

Wordcount: 3k

Part of ficswithluv’s #FWLBingo! 

“They probably got that idea from me,” Seokjin murmurs. He’s glaring at the screen, feet tucked up and arms crossed next to you, as he watches Edward Cullen step into the sunlight and sparkle.

“You don’t sparkle,” you snort. Seokjin’s jaw drops as he turns to you. “Wait… do you?”

Seokjin closes his mouth and takes a deep breath through his nose. “No, but how else are they going to try and demonstrate that someone is inhumanly handsome? And who is truly inhumanly handsome? Me!”

“That’s not saying much, since you are, in fact, inhuman,” you tease.

“I’m the most handsome inhuman there is, though!” Seokjin shouts, tossing his hands up. You’re glad to have a distraction from the very cringe scene happening in a movie that crushed your favorite book series. “I am worldwide handsome, human or not!”

You laugh at how he thinks he needs to convince you, his girlfriend. “Of course, of course, my vampire from the stars.”

“That’s right!” Seokji bellows, though his ears tinge pink. He starts waving his arms around to recite a speech you’ve heard many, many times. “I’m more attractive than any angel up there! Any demon down there! Any creature right here!”

Contrary to the fanged creatures on your TV screen, Jin was just an average but incredibly hot vampire. Well, what you now knew to be an average vampire. Fangs and a severe vitamin deficiency that could only be cured with blood.

(“Stop asking me to explain it, it’s too complicated.”

“Mhm, yeah, you definitely just didn’t forget.”

“Just for that, I won’t tell you.”)

At first, you’d been a tad disappointed. Sure, you would have been freaked out if Jin was even a Stefan Salvatore or a Lestat. But after a while, it lost its edge. Unlike Jin’s fangs.

He’d come to you in such an unusual way. At first glance, it fits the mysterious, ominous nature of vampires. Last year, you’d had enough. Life sucked, as it often does for people in their early twenties. You’d been leaning out your window with a bottle of wine, asking the heavens to send you someone. Sure, you’d stolen the idea from Lilo and Stitch, but why the fuck not. You just needed someone. You were willing to try wishing on a star for someone to come save you.

Little did you know, your rescuer was below, just strolling home late from work one night.

(“Hey,” a stranger called from the street. “That angel you’re looking for has already fallen.”

You startled. You can’t believe such a handsome stranger heard you, much less called out to a grown woman wishing on a star. Your shock caused the bottle of wine to slip from your grip and splatter three floors down. You almost follow after when you startle.

“Damn, people fall for me, but never from that high up,” Jin laughs, clapping his hands. You frown at the stranger.)

Jin likes to pretend it’s fate, and maybe it is a little bit, but it’s also his personality. Even if he’s not involved, seeing people in distress bothers him. He needs to lighten situations. And that lightheartedness and just how desperate you were had convinced you to allow the stranger into your home. Jin had waited to be invited in, but he insists that’s just manners.

Plus, Jin loves how you met. It’s his favorite thing to tell whenever you go out together. You just roll your eyes, letting him prattle on and on. Because when it comes down to it, he really was the angel you’d wished for (who is devilishly handsome, you might add).

“You’re doing it again,” Jin says, drawing you from your thoughts. He’s right. You’ve been watching him and his pursed lips while you’ve been reminiscing.

“Can you blame me?” You shrug.

“Fluffing my ego?” Jin teases, tossing the pillow from his lap to face you. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“Oh please, I’m more trouble than you’ll ever be,” you scoff. Jin frowns, but he knows it’s true. He scoots closer though, caging you into your side of the couch with a playful smile.

Leaning in to kiss you, Jin doesn’t say anything. He has two modes: all words and no game or just game and no words. Honestly, you couldn’t be made to choose between the two. Especially as his hands gently reach for you, plush lips closing in on yours.

Your body gravitates towards him. It’s no vampire curse. You’d asked him when you’d been immediately smitten all those months ago. You’d even wondered if there was a delayed onset, like something Jin “chose” to activate. It’s simply that Jin really was given to you by the stars. His dumb sense of humor balances your stressed mind, and by god is he gorgeous. You’re reminded each time your hands cup his jaw and your chest presses to his.

Jin deepens the kiss as he tugs on your thigh, dragging your leg to his waist as he lowers you to lie on the couch.

“But the movie,” you whine, trying to catch a glimpse of Bella and Edward running through Italy. Jin snarls, and his fangs are on full display. You can’t help but gasp, unable to hold back the wonder each time you see them. Lame vampire or not, that’s still what he is.

“You want that sparkle bitch over this?” Jin sounds offended, waving to his own form. You contemplate it, taking your time. You trace your fingers over the veins in his arms, up to the broad shoulders that block out the streetlight behind you. You giggle at the frustrated furrow of Jin’s brow over dark yet soft black eyes. Finally, you're pulling him on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

It’s easy, a position you frequently find yourself in. Even though you both share a bed now, you find it hard to take the extra time to make it there. Jin’s hands know their way around your body, how to hold you, tease you, appreciate you. And you’re no different, humming as you splay your palms over his broad chest and roll your hips into his. The place doesn’t matter as long as you have Jin like this with you.

As your tongues meet, you shiver. Jin’s careful, but your tongue still slides past his incisors. They aren’t deadly sharp, but there’s an implication. One that Jin never acts on.

“Jin,” you whisper as he mouths at your jawline. Once he glances up, you fix him with a serious stare, biting your lip and running your hands through your hair like Bella Swan. “I know what you are.”

Jin’s body shakes with a laugh as his head drops to your shoulder. “You are the worst.”

You both giggle, trading the mirth between hushed lips as Jin fumbles for the remote to turn off the cringe-movie.

In the dark, your hands tighten in his hair as the moment becomes more heated. His hips shift forward, letting you know his intentions. You whimper as he nips at your neck, back arching off the couch.

“Do you want to?” You ask.

It’s a question you never dared ask when you first started dating. You assumed it was something that had to be addressed, but not then. In the throes of love, you feared Jin would sink his teeth in and… you don’t know, claim you, sire you, turn you, something. But when you finally had months later, the answer, like everything else, had been less than wowing. Nothing about Jin’s need for blood was arousing. If anything, it was annoying. Like having a craving for something and the business was closed.

That didn’t stop the idea that Hollywood had planted in your head. You’d finally chalked up the courage to ask months ago: Do you want to bite me?

Jin had played it off, saying he only wanted to when you refused to split a meal. He caved soon enough, not actually doing it, but explaining that he found it incredibly intimate. It was a kind of trust. It hurt, he said. Like a farmer raising chickens, he’d become immune to the cries in a way, but he still knew the pain. There was no magic serum from his fangs that numbed the pain. For the victim, it was simply teeth sinking into flesh.

Because of that, he saw it as a vulnerability from both partners. Jin joked and talked shit a lot, but he was a deeply thoughtful person under it all. He believed biting a human was something to be wary of yet cherished. He cherished you, but the wariness had still outweighed his affections. You could only think there was an assurance he didn’t see yet. Whenever you asked, you didn’t push the response.

Jin’s movements still, and he sighs. It’s a sigh that says this again? You prepare to shrug it off, content to be dick-downed by the inhumanly handsome.

But he surprises you.

“Are you really sure?”

The words cut through the stillness of the living room. Not even the breath in your lungs moves.

“Yes,” you whisper.

Jin’s large, black eyes sparkle with the dim light pouring in from the window. Seeing the insecurity there, you follow up with a nod.

“It’s…” Jin winces a bit. “I promise you, it doesn’t feel good. It’s a bite. Like two tears in your skin.”

“Jin,” you start, and you know you believe what you’re saying. “I could give two fucks about vampires before I met you, and now I only give one fuck. And that fuck is that I want to be close to you. This just happens to be another level that you have for being close. I want to be on that level. You are as close to me as possible. I want you that close. And I want to show you that I want to be that close to you. And I only want you to do it if you want me there, too.”

“Of course I want you close,” Jin says, voice losing that lilt he usually has to demonstrate how serious he is. But it’s back a second later when he rolls his hips. “Is that really the only fuck you have for me?”

You roll your eyes even if he can’t see. “You know what I mean.”

There’s a pause. Just silence, just the sound of your hearts pounding. Then, Jin’s soft lips press to yours. You slot your lips with his and brush your thumb over his cheekbone comfortingly. He moves to your cheek, your eyes, your jaw, your neck. He stays there, nuzzling at your pressure point. You close your eyes.

“You don’t feel nervous,” he whispers. You shake your head. You aren’t. You know it might hurt. But you want Jin.

He holds your neck, laying his weight on top of you. You hum at the warmth surrounding you, the familiar firmness pressed to your inner thigh. A wet tongue laps at your neck and you gasp at the sensation, but turn your neck for more. Jin presses a few more wet kisses there, sucking gently as you squirm from the pleasure.

Then, he hoists himself up. “If I do it here, we might ruin the couch.”

“Oh,” you breathe. Good point. Blood. You sit up. “Um, what if we use my sweater?”

“But you love this sweater,” Jin pouts. Your heart floods with warmth at the fact that Jin’s worried about your favorite sweater.

“I have club soda. The blood will come out,” you say. You sit comfortably in front of him. Jin chews his cheek, but then he gets on his knees, straddling your lap. You place your hands on his thighs as he places his on your shoulders.

“Are you sure?” Jin whispers, brushing his nose to yours. He sounds breathless, more scared than you. You’re not scared at all. You want this. You want to show Jin he can’t hurt you and you want all of him.

“Mhm,” you whisper. 

“I think,” Jin whispers back, “I think I’m more nervous than you.”

You pout, but keep your eyes closed, just feeling him close. “Don’t do it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I,” Jin swallows. He doesn’t keep talking.

He kisses you again. This one is different. It’s not chaste. It’s not heated. It’s slow. His mouth works against yours, gauging your reception, letting his tongue slide along your bottom lip but not pushing in. You open for him, fingers tightening on his pants. He keeps edging in, giving you chances for an out, willing to let you turn this into a normal night on the couch instead of what he’s about to do.

Then, his mouth drifts. He keeps you close, a hand on the back of your neck, hips sinking into your lap. It kind of feels silly, having your massive boyfriend straddling you, but you’re too lost in the feeling of his tongue gently probing. He’s searching for a good spot, you realize. You try to relax, not squeeze your eyes or feel tense, to let him know you are okay. You move your hands to his waist, holding him gently.

Until your arms constrict around him with a small squeak in pain. His teeth sink in. At first, it’s nothing but a bite. Kinky, not scary. But then you feel it. The pressure, the pricking, the tearing. The searing heat that comes from an exposed wound. And then you feel the pull. It’s foreign, the way you feel the blood rush from your veins faster than intended. Your mouth hangs open, a silent scream caught there. You tug Seokjin closer and he gladly obliges, one arm hugging you, rubbing your back gently while the other thumbs under your jaw. He holds you secure, makes you feel safe swaddled in his arms and the cushions.

You squeeze your eyes shut as tears roll down. Their meaning is mixed. Both relief, fear, joy, pain, trailing down your cheeks. Jin grunts, shifting a bit, and you bury your face in his chest. Each muscle of your shoulder and neck are hyperaware, and you feel as though you have to clearly think about each as you hide inside Jin. 

Jin, who sucks your very being into his mouth and down his throat. Who keeps rubbing soothing circles wherever he touches. He’s not overwhelmed or consumed by bloodlust. Even as he feeds, his attention is on you. He’s always focused on you.

You cry out as he pulls off, the fangs slipping from your skin like a rock lodged in a wound that had to be removed. But then he’s back. You’re impressed that you don’t flinch as he descends. The same suction feeling is gone, just the lap of his tongue.

“Too much,” you breathe. It feels like you can feel each tastebud of his tongue pulling the flesh open.

“Sorry,” he muffles, tongue trading to soft taps. He waits out your blood coagulating. Your shoulders ache, but you realize it’s the vice like grip you have on him. As you slowly loosen, Jin moves to rub your arms, trying to ease the tension.

“Not as tough as you look, huh?” he says, the words murmured just above the wound. The words are too soft, filled with insecurity.

You shake your head, body ashiver. “It’s just new.”

“Bad?” Jin asks, even quieter.

You shove on his shoulders at that. He whines something incoherent in protest, eyes locked on the wound as you pull him into focus. “Nothing’s bad with you.”

Jin pouts, bottom lip on full display. Even in the dark room, you can tell it’s a shade darker with your blood. “It hurts.”

“It did. You bit me, so duh,” you admit. Jin’s strong eyebrows crease on his forehead, not appreciating your joke when he’s so concerned. You give a small smile, bringing your hands to his chest. “I’m glad you think we’re in a place where you can do that.”

You nudge him, and he concedes. He kisses your lips, and you gasp at the metallic taste in his mouth. His kiss is more earnest, eager to have you responding. He groans when your tongue twists with his and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Fuck,” Jin groans. “Fuck, it’s just. You. All of you. Feel good, taste good.”

Your heart races at that. Jin’s kisses are frenzied, tongue quickly following your own. His breathing is faster, grip tighter, pulling you into him. He’d said that blood didn’t mean much. It wasn’t an overwhelming desire or blurred with ecstasy, but the real reason got you more. Jin had your blood in his veins, your taste in his mouth. And he seemed impossibly turned on by it. By you. He cared so much for you, it was hard to believe there was ever a time you questioned if anyone, even yourself, cared about you.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Jin kisses you harder, fingers twisting in your hair, breathing in deep through his nose. “God, I love you.”

He starts to lean you back, and you willingly go, but then he yanks you both back up. “The blood! The couch!”

“Oops?” You blink, already so lost in Jin that you forgot. You’re not really sure if you are gushing out of your neck or what.

Before you can reach to check, Jin gently thumbs at the mark. He brings a smear of blood to his lips. You see his expression twitch in contentment, but there’s a flicker of worry in his eyes that won’t move from the throbbing mark on your neck. Whatever moment had been there was now broken by the reality of what happened. You may have been convinced you’re fine, but Jin still seems cautious.

“The floor?” You suggest, then point to the blanket on Jin’s side. “That’s an old afghan.”

“Ah, okay, yeah,” Jin breathes in relief, like he still isn’t sure if you’ll take the chance to get up and run out. Just to prove his worries wrong, you grab the blanket and toss it to the floor. You slide down, patting the space next to you.

Jin smiles down at you, something of a dazzle in his warm eyes. You smile back, and let him stare a little bit longer, then teasingly suggest with a crooked finger, “Come on, ravage me.”

Jin chuckles at that, shaking his head as he lowers himself down with a playful growl. You laugh as your boyfriend, who moments before was concerned over every touch, wrangles you to the floor to ravage you not with bites but kisses.

Check out my other FWLBingo pieces here!

[thevampiremariusderomanus]

Taken from @requiemforrose

ABC FACTS ABOUT Marius

A) Their full name: Marius de Romanus (only two people know this full and real name: Pandora and Armand)

B) Age: 38 in mortal years, around 2050 in total years adding up mortal and immortal

C) Height: 6’6 (i haven’t decided yet)

C1: Hair color: Blonde hair, almost white

C2: Eye Color: Light blue eyes

C3: Built: Lean and muscular

D) Pronouns. He/him

E) Species: Vampire

F) Favourite beverage and/or meal: Blood.  As a human, he loved wine and fruits like peaches; really soft and juicy fruits.  He wasn’t much of a meat eater because he hated the heaviness of it.  Marius was a “snacker” more than a meal eater.  Meaning, he was always eating something: fruit, olives, nuts.  Find Marius and he’s likely eating something small.  But he was very active and had a fortunate metabolism.  

G) Hobbies and favourite pastimes: reading, writing nonfiction historical accounts, historiography

H) Something they’re exceptionally good at: Painting

I) 2 things they really enjoy:

1) Reading in a quiet room in front of a fire while lying on a couch.

2) Sitting in the Chateau garden writing.  He will take occasional breaks to look at the plants or stare up at the sky and think.

J) 2 things they’re not really fond of:

1) Loud people.  He really doesn’t feel like there’s any reason to be loud and/or obnoxious.  

K) Listening to the same story over and over.  He’ll just outright finish your story for you and walk away if he’s in a bad mood.  Good or mild mood Marius would listen to it but be grumpy and slightly annoyed on the inside.

L) Their favorite kind of weather: He generally likes the spring because the weather is mild-- not too hot, not too cold with a gentle breeze.  But he does enjoy standing outside as it snows.  The cold doesn’t bother his already frigid body.  There’s something about the soft falling of snow and the gentle sound of it landing that is comforting to him.

M) A few interesting facts about them:

1) He’s a Capricorn.

2) He is an excellent whistler and will often whistle when he paints or sculpts.

3) He hates westerns.

4) He loves the show Horrible Histories.

5) He owns absolutely 0 pairs of jeans or shorts.

N) Favorite movie or music genre:

Favorite Movie: Blade Runner, The Name of the Rose, or the Seventh Seal.

Music Genre: He likes classical, of course.  But you’re likely to hear artists like Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Johnny Mercer, and Bing Crosby come from his room.

O) What’s their dream profession? When he was human, his goal was to be a writer/historian/anthropologist.  He wanted to wander the known world and write about everything and everyone he came into contact with.  Fortunately, Marius did get to do this; he got to live his dream.  Unfortunately, it was this very thing that led to him getting kidnapped and turned into a blood drinker, stealing him from a life he was quite content with.

P) Is there something or someone they cannot stand? Why?  He has a hard time stomaching the presence of Santino.  He can choke back his utter disgust and endure the man.  Marius is too reserved and polite now, too honorable and committed to self-control and moderation that he can easily hide any extreme emotion.

Q) Did they do something extremely dangerous at some point in their life? His whole immortality until 1985 was dangerous simply due to the fact that he was keeper of the Parents and therefore always in danger of being caught, attacked, or otherwise abused in some way that might lead to his death, or worse, the death of Akasha.

R) Is there something they wish they could do/achieve but can’t? He wishes he could open up more.  Marius is a very self-reflective man.  His problem is even in self-reflection he denies seeing certain things.  But he knows enough to see that he is angry and bitter, and he can’t seem to heal because he is too prideful and reserved to truly open up to someone.  

S)  Is there something in their life they regret? Leaving Pandora, abandoning Armand, letting Lestat see Those Who Must Be Kept.

T)  Do they have any siblings? Family? Loved ones? He had three older brothers and two sisters, one older and one a month older than him.  Marius was the youngest, which made him the most spoiled.  He had one daughter that he has never spoken of that absolutely no one knows about.  At one point, for about 300 years, Marius followed his family and his ancestors.  Not even Pandora was aware he did this.  I suppose he thought it would seem too pathetic, too sentimental.  He experienced a period of depression around that time and he “severed” his connections with the mortal world.  One of the things he did other than burn and bury his own writing, which he saw as corrupt having come from a monster such as he, was burn the records of his family.

U)  Are they a morning or night person? He has no choice but to be a night person.  As a human, he was a morning person.  He was the sort to be up before the sun rose no matter how late a night he had or how much he drank.  He would watch the sun rise, exercise, eat, and then work or venture out if he was traveling.  

V) Do they have a pet? What kind? If not, what kind of pet would they want? Marius has no pets and wants none.  He had fish but they, well, died when Akasha ripped his home in two.

W) How would they describe themselves in 5 or less words? Wise, considerate, contemplative, introverted, artistic

X) Do they have a goal in life? What is it? He wants to be that thing that remembers time.  He is obsessed with the continuation of awareness.  He wants to believe in the presence of something that knows all of time, even though he knows it is impossible.  But he feels he owes it to time to remember it.  That is why he studies, learns, listens, and watches.  Everything he writes down so as not to lose it in an overworked mind.

Y) Is there anything in their life that’s stopping them from succeeding? He’s so very lonely and won’t even admit it.  He somehow lost the ability to connect with people on an emotional level.

Z) Do they have an item that means a lot to them? Nothing.  He has no relics from his past-- his home burned down three times and was torn into pieces once (by Akasha).  That’s four times he has lost absolutely everything.  Once he lost everything for the final time in 1985, he has pretty much not let himself value any physical object or ‘thing.’  He has a lot of beautiful things, but none of it anything he is particularly attached to.  Anything of his could be broken or lost and he wouldn’t care.