#itwv x reader

[yesimwriting]

thinking about accidentally befriending louis de pointe du lac who, to his credit, does his best to separate himself from you bc he doesn’t want to subject someone so kind and genuine to the world of vampirism, even if it’s only through association. but, with time, he relents and before either of you know it you’re important to him.

and with being important to louis comes armand, whose suspiciously accepting of your presence. you have no reason to be too skeptical of him, but louis’s already given him the ‘leave her alone’ speech, which armand was even more suspiciously willing to accept.

after that, everything’s all fun and games with you in your little best friend bubble until armand gets mad at louis bc armand knows the best way to hurt louis is to take you away from him.

now, whether taking you away from louis involves “stealing” you from him or killing you is really up to you and how receptive you are

[fairybonesandstardust]

armand’s definitely going to fall to his knees sobbing once he realizes that because daniel’s old he needs viagra and therefore can’t dick him down every five seconds

[sarrsqz]

Back to Clarity

My tragic girl 😔

Interview with the Vampire: Claudia de Pointe du Lac x Reader

This was made with the idea of being platonic but could also be read with romantic undertones I suppose. I just wanted to give her some love because no one really talks about her on here.

Takes place in season two - Paris, 1950.

Word count: 1.2k

Claudia's hand shook as she leaned her head against it. Her leg bounced against the wooden floor, slightly heeled shoe making a soft clicking sound each time. Her skin felt colder than usual, bare elbows resting on the vanity in front of her. Her face scrunched up in irritation at the sounds of the audience cheering and clapping for those on stage.

She cursed herself as the coven played with her storyline, her insecurities. The fact that her existence was an abomination was humorous to them. They found joy in mocking her right to her face.

She had spent so long finding other vampires. Her determination constantly tested at every dead-end and suicide she was forced to witness. Finding the Parsian Coven had been a dream come true for her. A way to find true purpose. To be surrounded by other vampires who saw her as more than a child. More than their child.

But she was met with the same resistance as before. A group of centuries old vampires who saw her as a mistake. Who found pleasure in exploiting her.

The various ruffles and laced parts of the outfit she was forced to wear itched and burned her skin. She reached to the collar of the blue dress, pulling at the fabric like she was pulling off a second skin.

She craved to hear the stitching be torn out of the homemade dress. Desired to watch the fabric curl in on itself in a pit of fire, or watch it dissolve in a tank of acid. Anything to destroy any remnants of a connection she has with it.

Her eyebrows drew together, knitting in a tight line of frustration and humiliation. Her lips quivered when she finally took in the appearance of her face. The face of a teenage girl, decked out in blue eyeshadow and faux freckles stared back at her. She felt her breathing get deeper, harsher.

Her red eyes scanned over the mirror's reflection, hands stopping their clawing movements against the dress. The sounds faded out behind her. They sounded miniscule, unimportant as she blankly took in her makeup covered face. The face of a girl who should've died forty-three years ago.

Her fingers moved to her face, erratically smudging away the makeup. It smeared together, blending into inharmonious colors against her skin. Her red eyes seemed to be brighter in contrast to the ugly smudges on her face, breathing in deeply to restrict her true emotions which were threatening to break through the surface.

"Makeup pads are over there, y'know."

Claudia's head snapped over her neck, hands tensing while still being held out in front of her. You took in her face, the vulnerability expressed underneath all that rage.

You were leaning against a wooden pillar in the middle of the room, arms loosely crossed over your chest. You looked at her blankly.

"Oh, really? How quaint." She responded after a second of hesitation, voice bitter. She turned back around in her seat and crossed her arms in her lap. Her eyes refused to meet the mirror in front of her. She pushed her embarrassment down, replacing it with defiant rage. It continued to build as she heard you walking over to Estelle's dresser. "Shouldn't you be out there? Playing out those fantasies of yours?"

You pushed in the dresser's cabinet with your hip after grabbing what you need, smiling to yourself at the sound of her accent. You've yet to visit America, but it seems just as bland as the rest of the mortal run world. At least here you have some of your kind.

"I'm not on today." You placed the makeup pads on her vanity after responding vaguely. Claudia glared at them while picking at her nails. While she was desperate to remove any childlike addition they gave her for the performance, she refused to accept your aid. "I don't need your help. I'm not a kid." She spat, looking back at you as you sat down near her at another vanity. You crossed one leg over the other, leaning closer to the mirror and adjusting a piece of your hair.

"I didn't say you were."

"Felt like it."

Her response was quick, practiced. She's had this conversation before. Whether it be mortals or vampires, she was never deemed as an equal in their eyes. She learned that the hard way.

Your arm fell to the table, head turning to look at her. It was silent for a moment. Just you and her staring at each other. Her face seemed to be set in a permanent snarl.

Claudia's walls were high. They had to be. After everything she'd gone through, she had no other options but to close everyone out. Her struggles were just that -- hers. No one else understands her pain. The curse of immortality in a body that restricted growth and true experiences. Unable to bond with neither mortal nor vampire, the former seeing her as a child and latter seeing her as an atrocity.

"It's just makeup, Claudia." Your voice was soft, although detached in Claudia's eyes. "Don't let it define you."

"Oh. It's that easy, huh?" Her eyebrows shot up, egging you on in a sarcastic manner. She sat up in her seat, breathing heavily, hands placed firmly on the sides of the chair she sat on after uncrossing them.

More silence spread between the two of you. The only sounds came from the audience, entertained beyond belief at the various acts the coven put on for them.

Your face was blank, calmly looking over Claudia's defensive expression. You turned your head back to the mirror after a moment.

"You're not gonna say nothing?" Claudia asked while leaning forward more, bewilderment mixing with anger taking over her face. Her curled hair fell over her shoulders, hanging in the air while she awaited a response from you.

She waited for you to say something you couldn't take back. Something to confirm her suspicions that finding other vampires had been futile, and that no one in the coven truly respected her. But secretly, a small part of her craved your words to be the exact opposite. To find someone who could accept her -- to prove Lestat wrong.

To prove herself wrong.

You looked back at her, sitting up in your seat as well. Your eyebrows furrowed as you glanced to the wooden floor for a moment before looking back at Claudia. "It's not about them. It's about you. You deserve more than this bitterness... you know that don't you?"

Claudia's eyes widened slightly, a sense of ease replacing the heavy feeling in her chest. Her eyes scanned your face, looking for a lie, a ploy. Something to convince her to crawl back into her well-built safety net.

"Here," your voice cut through her thoughts. You reached forward for the makeup pads, grabbing a nearby makeup removal serum to place on them. "Let me help you, Claudia."

Her nails picked at the wooden chair she was sitting on. She let you wipe off the smudges, remove the ribbons from her hair -- bringing her back to clarity.

A sense of equality stemmed between you both. Claudia could almost feel her walls crumbling with each wipe of the makeup pads.

Being wrong never felt better.

[m0chisenpai]

Your itwv fanfic about loumand x reader reminded me of this tiktok sound:

R: am i being kidnapped?

L&A: No, no!

R: so, can i leave whenever i want?

L&A:..... No.

QUITE LITERALLY this is their dynamic !!

she has no idea what she got herself into, smart and so gulliable like she thinks it's all an act and doesn't realize how in deep she is

[lady-phasma]

Anne rice had beef with fanfiction and sued a lot of people because she didnt like that lestat x louis was a thing, but it was a LOOOOONG time ago and that is not the case anymore, that is why there is not many itwv content.

Thank you anon! Oh man, yeah I think she got really litigious when I was in college? Like almost 20 years ago. I know that the ramifications of that can be long lasting, especially in how people might be hesitant to write for her characters, but since her passing I don't know that Christopher Rice has sued anyone, nor AMC. I could very well be wrong about that though.

I think you might have seen this post I made:

So, that was more about the gender neutral reader more than a lack of Lestat fics in general. I like to write fics for broad audiences, really inclusive fics if I can. One "genre" that I particularly enjoy is the gender neutral reader (usually smut because that's who I am). There's something really wonderful about sharing a fic that anyone can read and (hopefully) enjoy. Female, male, enby, or no labels at all - we all want to have some sexy time with the Brat Prince. 😉

I was trying to crowdsource fics anyone knew about that were Lestat x gn!reader because at this moment that search gives me inadequate results. I couldn't find even one.

[yesimwriting]

Stawp!

Louis and bestie reader are so cute

They would be so satc coded and go out for drinks and vacays

Also i think reader would introduce him and call him "my beautiful louis" to other people

But imagine louis getting home and texting her with a smile on his face all cute 🥰

I like the idea of the person who makes vampirism good being her, a platonic relationship, in contrast of a romantic companion.

Also i imagine this convo:

Armand: do you have to go over to her apartment every other day?

Louis: first of, we have our movie night fridays together and you know this!

Armand: its 4 a.m

Louis: duh? I got to get there while the sun is down, besides we need to pick up thai food because she does not cook and she will starve herself before turning on the stove

AND ARMAND WITH HER

I feel like after he knows her, he would be jealous of any relationships/ one night stands she might have (louis knows about them obvi! She calls him all the time 💅🏻)

Im obsessed with this concept 😭

everything about this is so perfect!! i'm so happy you got the vibe! i feel like he just needs someone to pull him out of his (slightly subconscious) angst and something about that happening through a platonic relationship is so endearing to me

they're so satc coded too, just besties drinking and vacationing and having (slightly) delusional conversations <3

also bestie reader calling him "my beautiful louis" to others is everything to me 😭 they for sure love each other so much omg

armand is definitely so messy with this 😭 he's like a cat trying to gaslight their owner into thinking they don't want attention

bc i love this sm here's an actual drabble/fic:

pls be nice writing for new characters for the first few times is so daunting for no reason 😭, also armand is a bit messy here <3

----

Not unlike daylight's earliest hours seeping through shut curtains, the haziness--the easiness--you offer him is persistent.

Louis has grown accustomed to the feeling, to the consistent warmth of your friendship, but every once in awhile the sentimentality of it all digs at him.

"This is..." You trail off, legs crossed beneath you and television remote still loosely held between your fingers. "Complex."

Louis's focus flits between you and the screen you're intently staring at. The two of you hadn't set out to watch a documentary on some nature channel, but this is far from the first time you've gotten distracted by some default program while attempting to put on a movie. "Very."

His sarcasm is enough to break the spell. You turn your head, frowning, "Don't make fun of me."

The documentary cuts to a well lit, sparsely wooded forest. The camera focuses on a deer patiently grazing on the surrounding foliage.

"I’d never," he mumbles, suppressing a smile in an attempt at seeming as serious as he needs to be for the joke to work.

You let out a sound that's too gentle to be a laugh before straightening your shoulders and returning your attention to the television screen. There's something ironically pointed about the way the peaceful background melody fades into something more sinister. Looming Danger.

The deer, alerted by some sixth sense, stiffens, its body stretching to its full, insignificant height. The camera zooms in, focusing on the deer's wide eyes and unmenacing features. "That kind of reminds me of you."

This time, your laugh is full, sharpened by a partial scoff that's as amused as it is offended. "That's the weirdest thing you've ever said to me."

The comment is almost enough to ease him. The camera pans out, allowing the audience to see the other surrounding deer. "Maybe the deer from that one animated movie."

You're quiet for a moment, thinking through the implication of the words before turning your head towards him again. "You mean Bambi?"

He had been much too old to be interested in the film by the time it came out, but the name is vaguely familiar enough. "I think so."

You blink at that, tilting your head slightly. "How do you know Bambi?"

"I don't know Bambi," the argument is a relatively flat one. Louis turns to better face you, resting his arm against the back of your couch. "I've just seen some commercials."

That only seems to confuse you further. You straighten, pulling your legs towards your chest. "Where would you have seen Bambi commercials?"

"They were everywhere when it came out in the 40's."

You don't respond right away, your attention shifting away from Louis and towards your bent legs. As far as references that remind you of his lack of humanity, this is far from a drastic one. The 40’s weren’t long enough ago to be inconceivable to you.

Still, you’re quiet, as if thinking through the potential outcomes of your reaction. You nod once. “Right."

When you look up at him again, there's a hesitant sort of curiosity behind your eyes. It's an expression Louis's more accustomed to than he wants to be, it's the way you look at him when you're reminded of the reality of the differences between the two of you.

You tap your nails against your knee. "Does it feel weird?" The question comes out with a suddenness that doesn't suit you, the stiffness of the words sharp and uncertain. "All that time--carrying it inside your head?"

For a moment, all he can bring himself to do is sit with the question. Your question. It's a simple enough thing to ask, but not a exactly a straightforward thing to answer. Especially not to you, who has yet to experience a significant passage of time even by human standards.

"Well," he starts, "You know about the way that time has impacted aspects of my memory." You watch him patiently, saying nothing to prompt or rush him as he thinks through his response. "It does make things feel different--years spent with someone can feel like moments, and moments with others can feel like eternity."

You nod once, allowing his answer to sink in. "Which one am I?"

He knows his answer before he knows how to put it into words. You’re too familiar for either.

“You’re more like a memory.”

Your eyebrows briefly pinch together at that. You part your lips, but before you can respond the documentary’s music swells.

You turn your head in time to see the coyote lunge at a deer. You sigh, screwing your eyes shut before leaning forward, You press your forehead against his arm. “That’s depressing.”

Louis could have anticipated the reaction, you’re usually more bothered by animals dying in movies than people. Still, though, your ability to find comfort in him of all things will never not perplex him.

Instead of pointing out that you’re the one that chose to watch this, he gently reaches for the remote. “Fine, I’ll put on the movie.”

----

The familiar ringing is so muted, so low, Armand's certain that if it wasn't for his enhanced senses, he wouldn't have been able to hear anything at all. By the time he's turned his head, Louis is already reaching for his coat's pocket.

Armand frowns. If the late hour and limited number of people Louis talks to weren't enough to let Armand know who the message is from, Louis's smile as he unlocks his cell phone would be evidence enough. You--it's always you.

He continues forward, allowing Louis to type out a response without interruption. Once he's certain the message has been sent, Armand begins, "It's her again."

Louis's attention shifts away from the screen. "She's my friend."

"I know," he says, voice flat, "Your best friend."

"Stop it." There's nothing aggressive about Louis's response, but there's an underlying warning pressed into the syllables, the same almost-sharpness that Louis relies on whenever Armand implies a lack of fondness for Louis's latest source of entertainment. "It's not like that."

No, it really isn't. When you first began to weave yourself into Louis's life, Armand had almost convinced himself that this was a blatant betrayal that defied Louis's usual preferences. After about five minutes of assessment, Armand realized that the two of you really are as affectionately platonic as you claim to be.

"No," it's an easy enough concession. Armand continues forward, the coolness of the night's air sharp against his skin. Their walk hasn't exactly been the most exciting night of their companionship, but it has been non-contentious in a needed way after their latest session with Daniel. "You do spend a lot of time with her."

Louis's quiet for a moment, thinking through his response in a way that Armand finds unusual. "You could spend time with us, too."

The sentiment isn't as true as Louis intends it to be. While Armand's been around you regularly enough to consider you familiar, there are a few things that the two of you want to do on your own. Your weekly movie nights, casual drinking at bars, the surprise trip to Milan. And during the evenings in which Armand is there, Louis regards him with a subtle uneasiness that if you've noticed, you know better than to mention.

In your presence, what they are may only be portrayed in the softest of lights. The facets of vampirism must only ever be suggested, alluded to so faintly that they're rendered incapable of tarnishing that darling soul of yours Louis is so determined to preserve.

"And subject the poor, little fawn to an evening with two vampires?"

Armand keeps his gaze focused on what's ahead of them, but he can practically feel the lack of amusement radiating off of Louis. "Come on," he tries again, "She's not like that."

Although he'd love nothing more than to solely resent your existence, Armand does have to give you credit for that. You hadn't so much as missed a single step when Louis revealed the truth to you, never once treating him differently. You also barely flinched when Armand appeared in your home with no warning as a way of hurting Louis during a particularly lively argument. Armand's yet to determine if your bravery is a sign of idiocy or a testament to how certain you are in your connection to Louis.

It's far from rare for Louis to feel the need to defend you, but there's a determination there that seems urging. "She asked you to come over."

Louis's hesitation, though brief, is confirmation enough. He almost stills but seems to think better of it, placing his phone back into his pocket as if that will be enough to make Armand forget that you're the source of this. "She just ended things with the boy she's been seeing."

Hm. Not exactly an interesting update, but intriguing...more intriguing than why you usually call Louis, if nothing else.

"Alright," Armand agrees, "Let's visit your puppy."

----

The apartment building you live in is far from run down. You've slowly but surely transformed yourself into one of those rare artists with a curated following so obsessed with being able to credit themselves as the discoverer of the next big thing that they go out of their way to purchase anything that you've labeled as yours. Existing at the cusp of fame has allowed you to afford a decent apartment in the city, but it's nowhere near as nice as where you could be if you'd accept Louis's offer to get you a place closer to them.

Louis knocks on your door twice. In less than a second, you're clicking the lock out of place. You're beaming as you pull the door open, "Louis."

Armand watches Louis's expression melt into one of total warmth. There's a definiteness to your friendship that Armand might envy if he understood it any better. What's so special, so interesting about you that your presence is always desireable?

Louis extends an arm, offering you the bouquet of flowers he insisted on purchasing before visiting you.

Your smile widens even further at the arrangement. If it wasn't for the information that Louis gave him earlier, Armand would have no reason to think anything remotely upsetting happened to you tonight. "I love peonies. Thank you."

You lift a hand, your pointer finger gently brushing a thin petal as you examine the flowers. After a moment, you straighten, turning your head enough to acknowledge him. "Armand, hi." The greeting is cordial yet far from cold, the way you often are with him.

"Hello," he replies. You step back, pulling your front door open as a way of inviting them in. "I'm sorry about your boyfriend."

You pause at that, parting your lips as you look back at him. Louis speaks before you get the chance to, "I told you to look sad when we got here."

It's a playful chastising at best, but you react as if Louis had really meant it. In some ways, Armand believes he did. "Oh," the sound falls flat. You walk further into your home's entryway, giving them the space needed to enter. "Give me a second, I can do better." You turn slightly, holding onto the flowers a little tighter as you bring your free hand to your chest. "I'm distraught."

Your performance isn't worthy of a standing ovation, but there's a humor there that might have been charming if Armand's disinterest in you was less inherit.

"Nice try," Louis mumbles as he wanders towards your couch. He sits down with a casualness that highlights how used to existing in your space Louis really is. "Armand wasn't up for visiting anyone and I wanted you to at least look sympathetic."

You walk past your living room. Armand watches you for a moment before following, if for no other reason than to feel something resembling Louis's familiarity. He keeps his steps even, making a point of remaining a few paces behind you.

You stop in front of a cupboard. After opening the cabinet, you have to extend your arm so fully to reach a vase Armand's surprised when you manage to grab it without knocking it off its shelf.

"Trust me," you say, exaggerating the syllables as you approach the sink, "I'm very sympathetic." You place the vase beneath the sink before turning on the faucet.

Armand steps forward, setting a palm against the granite that makes up the island attached to your sink. "I'm sure." The words are spoken so lowly they're nearly drowned out by the sound of running water.

"What did he do?" Louis asks from his spot on the couch.

You lift the vase out of the sink's basin, shutting off the faucet as you move to set the glass onto the counter. "Broke up with me because he thought he had a chance with his ex-girlfriend."

"What?" Louis turns fully at that, craning his neck to look at you.

You nod sharply, completely validated by Louis's shock. "I know." You remove the plastic binding your bouquet together. "Men are the worst." You carefully pull a flower away from its bundle before placing it in the vase. The process of arranging the flowers must remind you who brought them to you, because after a second, you amend your statement, "Except you guys. Obviously."

"Obviously," Louis repeats in a way that only feels somewhat sarcastic. "So are you...upset? Angry?"

You pause, giving yourself a moment to really think about your response. "A little of everything, I guess." You pick up two smaller flowers by their long stems before placing them in the vase. "But not crushed." You reach for a filler flower. "I don't know...it's not like I was in love with him."

Louis rests an elbow against the back of your couch, propping his head up as he watches you continue to adjust your flowers. "I'm glad you weren't." You raise your eyebrows at that. "He wasn't the right person."

"You always say that."

"And I haven't been wrong yet."

You give him another look that would be threatening if it wasn't for the underlying fondness there. "Don't start." You don't wait for Louis's reaction before returning your attention to the flowers.

Armand watches you for a moment before allowing himself to take in your apartment. This place is a known entity, but it's not exactly familiar. He's never seen anything beyond the living but he has heard you talk about a room that you've converted into a studio space.

It's not as easy as it should be to imagine a space solely dedicated to your work when touches of it seem to cover your entire apartment. Two canvases too uniquely you to be purchased are hanging behind your couch, there's a ceramic vase on your dining table that reminds him of the way you paint, and then there's the abandoned palette and partially finished canvas still on its easel.

Armand walks forward slowly, approaching the painting as you and Louis begin discussing your least favorite things about the boy that ended things with you.

Even unfinished, the project is strong in its certainty, in its style. Your brush strokes are sharp, unafraid. Next to your well loved palette, there's a small photograph that parallels but doesn't exactly fully match the partially completed house on the canvas.

"That's an idea for a new collection--the repurposing of abandoned things, places..." Your explanation is abrupt in a way that borders on shy. "It's not meant to be as pretentious as it sounds."

There's a self deprecating quality to the disclaimer that doesn't fit you. Perhaps he's stumbled onto an actual insecurity. "Does someone seeing it like this make you uncomfortable?"

"Uh," you start, confused by his own suddenness, "No, not really. As long as you know to look it as a work in progress." You tap your nails against the counter. "I--I have a room down the hall that's full of half-finished stuff if you want to look at those, too."

The offer feels more like an attempt to convince yourself that you're okay with his analysis of your work before it's been polished than anything else. The concept of your uncertainty makes Armand curious enough for him to actively reach for your thoughts.

Armand's concentration shifts onto your mind, and he's immediately thrown by the vaguest implication of resistance. Your mental defense is so feeble it might as well not exist, but the fact that it does...that you're trying to at all is almost endearing enough to convince Armand to leave you be. Almost. "Are you attempting to block me out of your thoughts?"

You blink, the blood beneath your skin rushing its way up your neck at your embarrassment. "Are you trying to read them?" When your counter question doesn't impact him at all, you sheepishly offer an explanation, "Louis taught me."

Of course he'd teach his pet a new trick.

Louis lets out a small laugh at that. "The fact that he felt it at all tells me you're better at it than I'd thought you be."

Armand's gaze returns to your painting. You've managed to find a warmth, a beauty in the forgotten. "The implication of resistance isn't the same as resistance itself."

The criticism stings, but you don't let it impact your expression. You let out an exaggerated sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly to add to your point. "Be nice, I was just broken up with. Over text."

He continues to study the painting, his mind attempting to break the piece down by individual brush strokes. "That doesn't matter to you. Not really." Armand can almost imagine the creation of the house's boarders, of the formation of each individual stone and the heavy ivy covering them. "You're not 'crushed' because you're interesting and he's not, and a part of you knows that."

The sentiment behind the words leaves you desperate to push him away. Blood settles itself beneath your chest. Your feeble mental shield returns, this time determined enough for Armand to feel its desire to push him out.

"You don't know if I'm interesting," the response is too soft, too curious to reflect your unease.

You tap your nails against the counter, the gentle clicks of them hitting the granite echoing throughout the space. Armand refocuses on the canvas. "Louis wouldn't like you if you weren't."

Something about the statement seems to ease you. Armand's reminded of how almost overly genuine your friendship is. "Thanks."

Louis lets out an almost-scoff at that, his eyebrows briefly drawing together in a display of mock offense. "Don't make me sound so shallow."

"It's less about your shallowness and more about my winning personality."

"Uh-huh," Louis mumbles, pressing a synthetic lack of interest into syllables, "Well, as long as its about you."

----

a/n this is lowkey way longer than i expected it to be but i loved this dynamic so much so if you want to see more of them pls let me know <3

[fairybonesandstardust]

need armand barefoot and pregnant in time for sundress season

[fairybonesandstardust]

my prediction for the end of itwv s2 is that daniel discovers that armand is alice and he accidentally reveals in front of louis and armand, that armand is alice and gave birth to one of his daughters and louis is so overcome with horniness at that knowledge that him and armand fuck and that fixes everything a happy horny ending for all

[fairybonesandstardust]

good news and bad news, the good news is i’m taking one for the team and writing armand barefoot and pregnant during sundress season the bad news is that i’m writing armand barefoot and pregnant during sundress season

[fairybonesandstardust]

heavy sigh, i’m looking up maternity clothes for armand