chosen vintage


The plans were all in place, Travis had chosen some beautiful, vintage black suits and ties and crisp white shirts for them to marry in and packed them carefully into a case along with enough clothes to last them both two weeks. His stomach was in knots, he’d never felt this sick or nervous since becoming a vampire and that’s precisely why he adores Gabe to pieces, he brings back human emotions that Travis thought were long gone. He was terrified, not of commitment but of getting it perfect, he didn’t want to disappoint his fiance, he knew Gabe wanted to be turned after they get married and honestly, Travis was scared of doing that to him. Scared of both the possibility of losing Gabe but also eternally damning him, once you’ve been turned you can’t go back. His beautiful, sun-kissed fiance would never be able to bathe in the sun again and he’d crave the blood of innocent humans. 

Travis washed his face, pulling himself together and taking a deep sigh, the helicopter had landed and Travis had spent the last few days sneaking back and forth to the beautiful cabin in the mountains he’d chosen, decorating and making sure everything is just right. He walks back into the bedroom and scoops a just-dressed Gabe over his shoulder “It’s time!” he chuckles loud, dragging Gabe and the case out of their room and up to the roof.

Carpe Noctem  I Modern Vampire AU

His world was a world of dark greys and blacks, a world of shadows, eyes subtly changed to ignore background instead of pulsing warm heartbeats, ears sharp, sense of smell good enough to put a watchdog’s to shame. Being in the presence of all these moving bodies, packed so closely together, was almost overwhelming, frustrating, and like a fox in a hen house, his instinct was to snap at these brief, fluttering lives, their heartbeats weak and uninteresting, irritating. Instead, he lounged in one of the less crowded hallways of the club, outdoors, listening lazily to chatter and half sprawled upon a couch, chuckling slightly at what the woman next to him was saying. Slender fingers toyed with a wine glass full of deep crimson wine that he had chosen mostly for the vintage and partially for the color.

He was hungry; he could feel it in him, that relentless driving force to feed. It had been almost a month since the last person he drained, and after four hundred years of this, he was no longer particularly moved by their pitiful struggles or their fear. He wasn’t cruel, their fear was over in a matter of seconds. He needed to eat, to sustain himself, and he killed like all predators killed, simply to live, and not for sport. There was no sport, they were weak, slow creatures that died in a heartbeat of time even if he let them live out their pathetic little lifespans. When satiated, he was all too willing to leave them well alone.

But Matthias was hungry, and so he was hunting, deliberately, dark eyes flicking from person to person with that same languid sense of choice. Sometimes they’d mistake his attention and flirt with him, and sometimes he’d return it. It was as good a way to get alone with them as any, he supposed, and with his prospective prey surrounding him, he was gracious and charming, teasing the ladies and good-naturedly sharing quips with the gentlemen, tolerating their laughter, amused that none of them sensed the danger. He shifted, fluid, lean body stretching out and skin brilliantly touched by moonlight, snow-white. His lips were like blood in snow, his eyes dark and liquid and knowing. When he smiled, his teeth seemed very sharp and white.

Ignoring the people surrounding him, he picked up on another scent, curious. Sweat. Leather. Nervousness. Someone that shouldn’t be in a club, perhaps. Strong heartbeat. Might sustain him for more than a month. He caught a glimpse of him, handsome, blond, uncertain. Perhaps as much as two. With a slight smirk on those red lips, he fixed his deep gaze on him from across the room and gestured, slowly and deliberately to come towards him.