#vampire suspense

[thedeadgameblog]

(via ALONE IN THE DARK)

Who sits and waits in the darkness?

There is no movement in the blackness.

As still as a fox waiting to pounce,

She waits without a ruffle or flounce.

A hissing sigh floats through the air.

Are those snakes slithering in her hair?

The ghostly form stands to meet us.

Is she the hostess sent to greet us?

We stand alone in this bleak hall.

There won’t be dancing at this ball.

Time to leave this creepy place

And quicken this story’s pace.

But since this is a horror story,

We won’t be leaving with much glory.

THE DEAD GAME

[susanneleist]

SILENCE REIGNS SUPREME

Silence reigns supreme. The sun hides its face. Palm trees shake their leaves. Winds quicken their pace. The hotel stands deserted. Flapping sounds fill the air. Dark shadows join the fray beneath his icy stare. THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP

[thelazydoodle]

when Remmick, joan, and Bert started singing "Pick Poor Robin Clean." I just felt the uncomfortable feeling from their performance, like yeah they sang well, were on queue, and on beat. But there was something behind it that felt off like there was no feeling. The best part of it all was that there was no tension playing in any background. It was almost dead silence except for the band inside, and it was just a camera pointed at them and a weird conversation between them.

We, as the viewers, know they're vampires and of course we don't want them to accept them in. But when when we look back at the group watching them, they were just watching. They were not clapping along or singing with them, all we got from them was Slim "they're not bad".

What was interesting was Remmick playing the race card and tried to guilt them into letting them in. There's a forced kindness and pleasantry behind the way acted, the "nice guy" act one might say.

So, as you can tell, i went to see "Sinners" tonight, and I absolutely enjoyed it. There's a lot of symbolism that is well written and well played throughout the film, the acting was phenomenal, the sound and the music was amazingly done by Ludwig Göranssona nd I highly recommend seeing it while in theaters. And I definitely recommend seeing it with the best sound quality as well.

[acecasinova]

Hang In There!

Don't worry bud, you'll be let down soon~ ...probably... But- vampires probably don't have to worry about blood pooling in their head, right? Especially if they haven't been fed in a while...

[trashraccoongirl]

twilight, 2008

[diana-andraste]

The Story of a Vampire (Historia de un Vampiro: Sucedió en Coyoacán), Kati Horna, 1962

[rdmasevi]

Crimson Pact

Title: “Crimson Pact”: A Sinners fanfiction

Pairing: Smoke and Stack x Reader Fem ( Vampire )

Genre: Dark Romance | Supernatural |Suspense | Action

Warnings: Blood/gore, Violence, Possessive behavior, Dark themes, Mild sensual tension,

Summary: Hunted and bleeding, a rogue vampire strikes a dangerous, magnetic alliance with Stack and Smoke — two deadly hunters who must decide whether to kill you or fight beside you as a darker war approaches.

You were a myth in this city.

The whispers said you haunted the ruins where sunlight dared not reach, that you could kill a man with a look — or worse, make him love you before he died.

Stack and Smoke didn’t believe in myths.

At least, not until tonight.

They found you bleeding under the broken frame of an abandoned church, your black coat torn, crimson soaking the ground like spilled wine. You lifted your head slowly as they approached — two hunters carved out of war and dust, grim and beautiful in the broken light.

Stack crouched first, his hand resting near his holster. His voice was sharp but low. “You’re not supposed to bleed.”

You laughed under your breath. “Nobody’s supposed to do a lot of things.”

Smoke stayed back, eyes dark, assessing you. His instincts screamed not to trust — but there was something in the way you looked at them. Not afraid. Not begging. Just... watching. Like a queen, or a wolf waiting for a chance to bare her teeth.

"You’re the bloodsucker everyone’s scared of," Smoke said, almost amused.

You tilted your head, blood dripping down your throat like jewelry. “Do I look scary to you?”

Stack’s jaw tightened. “You look half-dead.”

"Half's still enough," you rasped.

The church groaned in the wind above you, a song of decay and dying prayers. Somewhere far off, you could hear the others hunting for you — the ones who wanted your head mounted on a wall.

Smoke knelt beside Stack now, running a gloved hand through his dark hair, studying you like a puzzle he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve. His voice dropped lower, dangerous. "Why shouldn’t we finish the job ourselves?"

You smiled, teeth sharp. “Because if you kill me, you kill your best shot at surviving what’s coming.”

Silence.

You watched them exchange a look — not fear, no, but something close enough it tasted like adrenaline on your tongue. Smoke's hand flexed into a fist. Stack leaned closer, until you could smell the cold iron of his blood through his skin.

"Talk," Stack ordered.

You told them about the war building beneath the streets, the factions of vampires and other things that didn’t have names anymore. You told them how you refused to swear fealty, how your freedom put a target on your back bigger than any human could carry.

"They’re coming," you whispered. "For me. For you. For everyone."

Smoke exhaled slowly. “Sounds like your problem.”

You leaned closer, baring your teeth. “It will be yours soon enough.”

Stack's eyes locked with yours, endless and brutal. “What do you want?”

A simple question. A dangerous one.

You could have said sanctuary. You could have said protection.

Instead, you told the truth.

“You.”

Both of you.

Smoke stilled, the air vibrating with the violence of the moment. He reached out, gripping your chin hard enough to bruise if you were still human. His thumb dragged over the blood at the corner of your mouth, slow and possessive.

"You think you can have us?" Smoke growled.

"I will have you," you promised, voice a deadly caress.

Stack’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, until you were breathing his air. His words were a brand against your lips.

"Then you better survive the night."

The pact was silent but absolute. They wouldn't let you die. You wouldn't let them go.

As the church doors burst open with the sound of your enemies crashing through, Stack and Smoke drew their weapons. You wiped the blood from your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled, heart pounding with something that had nothing to do with fear.

Tonight, you would fight beside them.

Soon, you would be theirs.

Or they would be yours.

In the end, maybe it was the same thing.

My main masterlist

[aventurineswife]

Hello Rinnie! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Technically this idea has been around for quite a while but I didn't get around to writing it in the request folder, but now I've done it! (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠��

This request is set in a "modern" universe and a post-apocalyptic world. Basically a world dominated by vampires, these vampires have a "father" a primordial vampire, clearly there are also some special vampires which are called: Nobles, there are currently 6 vampires that have this title.

The reader is one of said vampires, being the second among the nobles.Continuing with the request: One night one of the five nobles invited the reader to a "blood moon¹" party which they accepted out of courtesy and because they knew the "fifth" of them. Everything was going well at the party, even boring, the other guests were chatting and drinking "wine". While they were going down the fifth stairs they heard some of the guests causing trouble and the reader made a comment about it: "It seems that you have very unruly guests..." When they went to see the problem between the guests, the readers noticed a blond boy with striking eyes (Aventurine)

I didn't know how to finish it up to here, so that's why I didn't want to write it, you can continue it.

-💤🩵 anon

“Fools Rush In”

Summary: At a lavish "blood moon" party attended by vampires, you, one of the five noble vampires, encounter a striking figure among the chaos—Aventurine. As a master strategist and risk-taker, Aventurine's presence commands attention. Amid a heated quarrel between guests, he stands calm and composed, captivating you with his dangerous charm and confidence. A subtle challenge is issued between the two of you, and you realize that this night may be far more thrilling than expected.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Vampire!Reader, Blood Moon Party, Intrigue, Suspense, Complex Characters, Slow Burn, Emotional Tension.

Warnings: Mild Violence (?), Manipulation, Psychological Tension, Dangerous Behavior, Light Flirting.

The party was draped in an atmosphere of polished grandeur, the soft glow of blood-red lanterns casting long shadows over the grand hall. It was a night for nobles, a night where nothing felt more important than social positioning, feigned smiles, and elegant conversation. Yet, amidst the mundane pleasantries, the undercurrent of tension buzzed quietly.

You, one of the five noble vampires, had accepted the invitation out of a sense of duty and, more so, because you knew the "fifth" of the nobles—the one who had been in the background, often left to his own devices in the dim corners of the aristocracy. You weren't necessarily fond of these gatherings, but you understood their weight. It was a game of politics, appearances, and survival. Tonight, it seemed, would be no different.

You observed the crowd with a practiced eye—each noble immersed in their own self-importance, sipping wine from delicate crystal glasses, their faces painted with that familiar mask of polite indifference. Nothing of interest. Nothing out of the ordinary.

That was until you found yourself walking down a long, spiraling staircase leading to a private section of the estate. The stairs creaked beneath your feet, the stone echoing into the silence. Your companion, the "fifth," walked beside you, the sound of your steps the only noise in the otherwise serene space.

It was at that very moment you caught the low hum of voices. Not the polite chatter of the party above, but something more... aggressive, unsettling. Faint laughter mixed with shouting, a discordant sound that grated against the otherwise pristine ambiance.

The "fifth" paused, eyes flicking toward the sounds. You followed his gaze, narrowing your eyes as your senses sharpened.

"It seems that you have very unruly guests..." you commented dryly, your voice calm, a hint of amusement threading through your words.

"Indeed," he replied, though there was no lightness in his tone. He sounded a touch concerned, his gaze drifting toward the corridor where the noise seemed to be originating.

With little hesitation, you moved toward the source of the commotion, your companion trailing behind. The sound grew louder as you approached a small room off to the side—a private gathering space. The door was slightly ajar, and you could make out muffled voices within, heated and growing more irate by the second.

You pushed the door open gently, stepping into the room with a grace that seemed almost deliberate, your gaze immediately flicking over the scene.

A group of guests—noblemen and women—stood in a tight circle, their voices overlapping, each one trying to outshine the other in an argument. Their faces were flushed, their movements jerky with agitation. But it wasn’t the quarrel that caught your attention.

It was him.

A young man with sandy blond hair, tousled as if by a carefree breeze. He stood near the center of the group, his striking eyes gleaming with something… almost dangerous. He was too composed amidst the chaos, his posture relaxed, yet his gaze swept over the room with a sharpness that hinted at his calculating mind.

You watched him for a moment, noting the black slitted pupils of his eyes and the aura of confidence that enveloped him. There was something deeply unsettling about the way he stood there, as if the tension in the room had been invited, not merely tolerated.

The man caught your gaze, his lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. There was something unnerving about the way his eyes lingered on you. He seemed to see right through you, as if he already knew everything about you without the need for a single word.

His voice, when it came, was calm and deliberate, almost too smooth for someone embroiled in the middle of such an argument.

“Well, well, it seems our little soirée has gotten quite… lively, hasn’t it?” he said, his tone light and teasing, though there was an edge to his words that belied the casualness.

Your eyes narrowed imperceptibly as you took a step closer, the other guests falling silent at your arrival. His gaze never left yours.

“I take it you’re the cause of this delightful ruckus?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. It was an intentional jab, yet your curiosity about this figure was undeniable.

He smirked, a glimmer of something darker flickering behind his eyes. “Cause? No. I simply saw an opportunity and decided to take it. Risk is what makes life interesting, after all. Wouldn’t you agree?”

There was something about his confidence, his words, that made you pause. This wasn’t just a random noble with a flair for drama. No, this man—this boy—was different. His demeanor was far too calm, far too calculating for the chaotic scene he was standing in the middle of.

His expression softened, though it didn’t reach his eyes, as he gave you a half-bow.

“I’m Aventurine,” he said, as if the name itself carried weight—power, intrigue, and perhaps something more. “And you are?”

Your eyes never left his as you replied, your mind racing with possibilities. There was something about him that pulled you in, a dangerous magnetism wrapped in a polished exterior.

“I’m [Name],” you said, your voice steady, though a flicker of intrigue danced behind your eyes. “It seems, Mr. Aventurine, you’ve mastered the art of disruption.”

Aventurine chuckled softly, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Disruption, manipulation, strategy... It’s all part of the game, isn’t it? The question is, are you playing, or are you merely watching?”

The room around you seemed to fall away as you locked eyes with him, something unspoken passing between the two of you. It was a challenge—one that felt like a game he was playing, and you had been pulled into it whether you liked it or not.

“I’m never just a spectator,” you said coolly, the challenge in your tone evident.

Aventurine’s smile widened, a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“Good,” he replied, the word hanging in the air like a promise. “Let’s see what happens next.”

And as the party continued around you, the world seemed to tilt slightly off-kilter, the thrill of the game beginning to take hold in ways you hadn’t expected.

The night had only just begun, and you knew one thing for certain—Aventurine was not a man to underestimate. And somehow, you found yourself intrigued by the danger he embodied.

[noobiestnoober]

Haunted House Hunt (Reader, Kol and Rebekah Mikaelson)

Kol bets you won’t last an hour in a haunted mansion. You accept. You expected creaky floorboards, maybe a cold draft… You did not expect Rebekah Mikaelson in full ghost mode. What starts as a dare quickly turns into a chaotic, ghost-filled sibling showdown—and the house might not be as empty as they thought.

👻 Mischief. Screams. A chandelier with opinions. Read if you love supernatural pranks, Mikaelson drama, and haunted vibes

The full moon hung low over Mystic Falls, casting silvery shadows across the crumbling façade of the Whitmore estate—a decaying mansion left to rot on the outskirts of town. Long abandoned, its once-grand halls had become the subject of local lore, whispered about in hushed tones: cursed walls, footsteps with no source, and mirrors that reflected more than your own face. It was the kind of place only someone with a death wish—or a Mikaelson—would find entertaining.

"Bet you won't last an hour," Kol said smugly, tossing you a rusted key that felt cold to the touch. He leaned lazily against the hood of his car, moonlight glinting off his smirk. "You scream before the thirty-minute mark, I win. You survive the full sixty? You get to choose my next humiliating dare."

You snatched the key midair. "You’re going to regret that."

"Am I?" Kol tilted his head, the challenge twinkling in his eyes. "Don’t get lost in there, love. That house has a way of... remembering its visitors."

You rolled your eyes, but your heartbeat spiked as you stepped through the creaking gates and onto the overgrown path. Kol followed close behind, humming a haunting little tune that didn’t help your nerves one bit.

Inside, the mansion breathed with decay. The once-glorious grand hall now lay blanketed in dust and cobwebs, the chandeliers hanging like frozen insects, their crystals dulled by time. The air was thick, tinged with mold and something metallic—like old blood. Every step echoed like a scream swallowed by the darkness.

"This place could use a decorator," you muttered.

Kol chuckled. "It’s got charm. Gothic dread and death—very on brand for us."

Ten minutes in, he was already wandering ahead, poking his nose into faded portraits and crumbling side rooms. You followed the beam of your flashlight, which danced over broken furniture and cracked tiles, each one whispering its own story.

"Honestly, I expected more," Kol called over his shoulder. "Where are the poltergeists? The spooky whispers? This is just—"

A sudden thud echoed from upstairs, followed by slow, deliberate footsteps.

You froze. So did Kol.

"...You didn’t invite anyone else, right?" you asked.

His grin slipped. "Nope. Did you?"

Before either of you could react, the lights flickered violently. At the top of the staircase stood a ghostly figure clad in white, with long, tangled blonde hair and vacant, hollow eyes. It stared down at you both in absolute silence.

Kol’s bravado evaporated. "No bloody way."

The figure let out a piercing, mournful wail that chilled your bones.

Kol grabbed your arm. "Run."

No hesitation. You bolted through the corridors, tripping over loose floorboards and half-broken chairs as the howling echoed behind you. Doors slammed on their own. Paintings fell from walls. It felt like the house itself was alive. You barely made it into the drawing room before the heavy doors slammed shut behind you.

Kol leaned against the wood, panting. "Okay, that’s... not what I planned."

Then—laughter. Rich, amused, and unmistakably familiar. From the shadows emerged the 'ghost,' pulling off the white curtain she’d draped over herself. Rebekah Mikaelson. Smug. Triumphant.

"Really, Kol? Trying to host a haunted house hunt without me? How rude."

Kol stared at her, wide-eyed. "You orchestrated that? You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"That was the goal," Rebekah said sweetly. "I even rigged the lights. Very convincing, wasn’t it?"

You let out a breathless laugh, still trying to calm your pulse. "Okay, that was evil—and brilliant."

"Thank you," she said with a gracious nod.

Kol groaned dramatically. "You cheated."

"There were no rules against psychological warfare," she said, crossing her arms. "Besides, it was more fun than watching you two tiptoe through dust for an hour."

You smirked. "Pretty sure I win the bet, by the way. I lasted the full hour and you screamed first."

"That’s highly debatable," Kol muttered, brushing dust off his shirt.

Rebekah walked around the room like she owned it—probably did, in some century. "Next time, I say we try that monastery outside Richmond. Supposedly cursed by witches."

You raised a brow. "There’s going to be a next time?"

Kol shot her a glare. "Not unless I plan it. And no fake ghosts, Bekah."

Rebekah turned, smiling mischievously. "Who said I was fake?"

A loud creak groaned above your heads. One of the chandelier’s crystals dropped to the ground with a soft, chilling clink. The room went quiet.

Your voice came out a whisper. "Okay. We’re leaving now."

The three of you exited the house quickly—maybe a bit too quickly—laughing nervously under your breath as you stepped into the cool night air. The mansion loomed behind you, silent and still.

As Kol drove you away, tires crunching on the gravel, you glanced back. In the top window of the Whitmore estate, a pale face watched from the shadows. And this time... it wasn’t Rebekah.

[higherhell]

Self-portrait as a vampire (May 27, 2024 - Clip Studio Paint)

[carriehobbs]

if i can be honest here this is really one of my least favourite parts of the way the romances are written. the idea that you can only really fall in love once (and both the related ideas that, if this love is real, then every other relationship you've had must not have really been love and that, if you have been in love before, your previous love somehow cheapens the current love) is so completely juvenile. it's the kind of line of thought you'd expect to see in a young adult novel marketed exclusively to 12- to 16-year-olds for whom every emotion feels like the most intense, ultimate feeling they could ever have, and who do not yet have the life experiences to understand (or appreciate) the complexities of love. "i've only ever loved this one person this way, every other feeling i've thought was love has just been a poor imitation" is a pretty thought but is ultimately a fantasy (and one that i, personally, find incredibly disrespectful towards people who have been in love and then fall in love again).

it would be one thing if this idea was espoused by only one of the characters. if only n (just as an example) bought into the idea that only one love can be your true love, then that would say something about n's character, their romantic and life history, the way they view and interpret the world, etc. but instead all of the ros seem to follow this line of thought - they've all never been in real love before, if they and the detective broke up they'd never experience this kind of love again, they're all soulmates, etc. and in that way this idea is not a characterization choice for particular characters, but an idea perpetuated by the work as a whole. and in my (biased and personal) opinion, it's a childish and unrealistic idea.

[thedeadgameblog]

(via SILENCE REIGNS SUPREME)

SILENCE REIGNS SUPREME

Silence reigns supreme.

The sun hides its face.

Palm trees shake their leaves.

Winds quicken their pace.

The hotel stands deserted.

Flapping sounds fill the air.

Dark shadows join the fray

beneath his icy stare.

THE DEAD GAME

by Susanne Leist

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP

[pigeonstab]

WAIT ALSO!!!

(still college) Does Cross have the typical werewolf trait of always running hot? Do the vampires always feel cold to touch/ always feel kinda chilly themselves? :o

I think he does run hot but that's more of a Cross thing than a werewolf thing, obviously when you have fur you would be warmer than most tho.

The vampire's temperature depends on how much blood they have in their system! A cold vampire is a hungry one. Imagine Killer as that 'full of soup' meme, very eepy, very warm after a meal. Though they're never really hot either, best you can get is warm/mid.

Nightmare is usually very cold almost all the time since he doesn't need to eat as much as the others

[thelazydoodle]

I don't blame Grace for what she did

She knew she was doing. She didn't really care about killing all of them. She wanted to kill Bo for the sake of their child's safety and made damn sure that he was dead while dying with him. When the image of Lisa popped into her head, you knew she was on a mission. She didn't want to take the risk of Bo walking away that night, cause if they were to fail to survive that night. They would go after Lisa the next night.So, she made sure he would at least be dead before she would. She would rather die killing Bo than risk the safety of Lisa

Yes, it was a selfish move, but her daughter's safety was the most top priority over everyone else.

[shoesallinaline]

The more I think about it, the more excited I am to see Eric Bogosian absolutely tear it up as vampire-Daniel.