#lesvid

[isabelckl]

whiskey & honey 6

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You kissed your mom and Celine goodnight, watching them walk up the stairs side by side, their laughter echoing faintly. Their hands rested on each other’s shoulders, old friends who’d always be that way. You smiled to yourself, cheeks warm.

Your eyes shifted to Ellie.

She was gathering the bowls and glasses without a word, the soft kitchen light glinting off her wrist as she moved. You sighed, biting your lip, that fluttery feeling in your stomach kicking up again. You could swear your eyes must be glowing just watching her

You walked over without thinking, reaching for the last bowl on the table. But Ellie snatched it from you immediately.

“I got it,” she mumbled.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. You let her have it, jumping back onto the sofa with a quiet thump, the cushions bouncing under you.

You sprawled there, that dumb smile still clinging to your mouth. Your jaw moved like it was trying to chew through a grin, and you smacked your cheek lightly to make it stop.

You weren’t even sure what was funny anymore.

The sound of the faucet running in the kitchen, the clink of glass on ceramic, her footsteps — everything felt like it was humming under your skin.

Ellie walked back in, drying her hands on a dish towel. She spotted you smacking yourself and raised her brows.

“If you’re too sleepy to think straight, just go upstairs already,” she said, standing there with her hands on her hips.

You frowned up at her. “I’m not.”

She stared down at you for a second. Then scoffed, that small, knowing smile slipping onto her face as she stepped forward and grabbed the blanket half-sagging beneath you.

You didn’t move.

She tugged again. “Come on,” she said, her voice low and rough, eyes lidded with something unreadable.

Still, you stayed put, sinking deeper into the couch and smirking up at her like the menace you were.

Ellie narrowed her eyes.

Then, without warning, she bent down and hooked one arm under your thighs and the other around your neck, lifting you up like you weighed nothing.

“Ellie—what the—!” you squeaked, heart jolting wildly, hands instinctively grabbing onto her.

But she didn’t even hesitate. Sge walked you straight over to the larger sofa and practically tossed you onto it. Not rough, but enough bounce to make your hair fall in your face and your chest heave from surprise.

Ellie was already walking away, laughing to herself.

You scrambled up on the cushions, breath caught somewhere in your throat.

“Ellie!” you called after her. “You can’t just—what if I hit my head on something?!”

She turned back, now folding the last blanket like. “Yeah, like what?”

You glanced around, trying to find a plausible danger. Nothing. “I don’t know. Something.”

Ellie looked over her shoulder, eyebrows raised, a smirk carved on her lips. “You’ve got a hard head anyway.”

You glared at her before you rolled your eyes dramatically and collapsed back into the sofa again, arms thrown over your face, that stupid smile returning — because you couldn’t stop it.

Eventually, you let your elbows prop you up, fully stretched out across the couch as you glanced toward Ellie again.

“Let me help you,” you offered, voice quieter now, lips catching on a grin you tried to bite back.

She glanced at you — eyes trailing over your sprawled form for just a second too long — before she turned away again.

“Nope”

She turned her back again, gathering the last throw pillow and setting it neatly on the edge of the couch.

“Come on,” she said over her shoulder.

You groaned, but got up anyway, stretching your arms overhead like a cat and yawning hard.

Instead of following her right away, you padded toward the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the drying rack and filling it with water. The faucet hummed low while you drank in slow gulps, the quiet pressing down soft around you like a worn blanket.

When you turned back, Ellie was already halfway up the stairs.

You ran after her, the wood creaking slightly under your feet. You caught up just as she reached the top, her hoodie loose around her shoulders, one hand trailing the wall as she walked.

You both paused — like always — at the top of the landing, right in front of your doors. One across from the other. Her hand found the doorknob behind her without looking.

“Goodnight,” you said, voice low, looking at her.

She nodded. “Goodnight. Remember our lesson tomorrow.”

You sighed, head tipping back with a groan. “I know. It’s literally been living in my head all night. I’m mentally preparing to be thrown off and sent into orbit by one of your horses.”

Ellie frowned, biting back a grin. “You’re really not that dramatic, are you…” Her eyes dipped down, taking you in casually — or maybe not casually at all. Her hand lingered on her doorknob.

You rolled your eyes, already backing into your room. “Whatever,” you muttered, mostly just to escape before the smile cracked your face completely.

You closed the door gently behind you and leaned your back against it for a second, lips pressing together tight. That buzzing feeling in your chest wouldn’t let up.

From across the hall, you heard her door click shut too.

And that was somehow worse.

Because now you were alone with it — the ache, the flutter, the way her voice kept replaying in your head like a favorite line in a favorite song.

You took a breath.

Let it out.

And smiled like a total idiot.

The morning greeted you like an old friend — warm light bleeding through the curtains, the smell of bread baking somewhere downstairs, birdsong slipping in through the half-cracked window. It made you feel like the whole world had taken a deep breath just to let you rest a little longer.

You didn’t, though.

You stretched under the covers until your spine popped, groaning softly as you peeled yourself out of bed. Your face was still smiling — you could feel it, even in the mirror while you brushed your teeth and splashed water onto your cheeks.

You hummed under your breath as you dried your face, still barefoot on the cool floorboards, your hair pushed back lazily with a headband. The day already felt too nice to be real. You didn’t know what made you feel so content — the sunlight, the air, or maybe the weight of something unsaid last night still lingering like a good secret.

Just as you tossed your towel back onto the hook, a knock came from your door.

“Coming,” you called out, padding over and tugging it open.

You expected your mom.

But it was Ellie.

She leaned against the doorframe with one hand braced above her head, casual and annoyingly pretty in her worn flannel and dusty boots, the corner of her mouth tugging up with some private joke she hadn’t even told you yet.

Ellie wasn’t exactly someone you expected to see this early.

But oh — to have her be the first thing you saw after waking up?

Yeah. That did something to your chest.

“I just knew you were awake already,” she said, voice low and teasing.

Your head tilted slightly, skeptical. “And?”

She shrugged, her eyes glinting with mischief but not saying anything.

You narrowed your eyes. “Stop. Literally. I’m not even on that horse yet and you’re already—”

“Already what?” she cut in, fighting a smirk. “I’m not even saying anything.”

You leaned in a little, one hand gripping the door frame as you looked up at her, narrowing your eyes.

She blinked innocently. “What?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Go away, Ellie.”

You tried to shut the door in her face, but not before she saw it — that grin you couldn’t hold back, blooming across your face like you hated it. (You didn’t.)

She let out a short laugh from the other side.

And you stood there behind the closed door, forehead pressed lightly against the wood, trying to get your heart to chill out.

Eventually, after you managed to get your heart rate down and wipe that stupid smile off your face, you slipped out of your room.

You padded down the stairs quietly, the wooden steps creaking beneath your socks, warm light spilling in through the windows and across the floor. It smelled like toast and something soft in the air — like morning was really trying its best.

But the kitchen was empty.

No mom. No Celine. No Ellie.

You sighed a little, but then your eyes landed on the table — a plate of fresh toast, an avocado sandwich, and a chilled glass of juice waiting like someone knew you’d wander in late.

You climbed up to sit on the counter, swinging your legs as you ate in silence, biting into the toast first. Still warm. Buttery. Perfect.

You were about to take a bite again, finally letting the calm settle in, when the backdoor creaked open.

Ellie.

She stepped in like she wasn’t ruining everything just by existing, dirt smudged on her jeans, flannel sleeves rolled up, eyes scanning the room like she hadn’t been here three times already.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t even look at her. Just focused harder on your food, it was suddenly the most important breakfast of your life. She wasn’t getting in that easily again — not after how fast she made your heart race just standing in a doorway.

She walked right past you to the fridge, opened it, and leaned in — hovering way too long, like she was searching for some rare, hidden treasure.

You kept chewing, slow and casual, pretending not to glance over — even as the chill from the open fridge drifted across your bare legs, raising goosebumps.

Finally, after what felt like a century, she emerged... with a bottle of cold water.

You blinked, trying not to raise your eyes.

All that... just for water?

She leaned her elbows on the other side of the counter, twisting the cap off. You felt her eyes on you the moment she settled there, and instinctively, you shifted your gaze away.

When you finally glanced back, she was still drinking — but that smug little smirk curled around the bottle’s edge.

You frowned. Narrowing your eyes.

Here we go again, you thought.

Yeah, as if you didn’t live for it.

You chewed slower, eyes sharpening, turning your glare up a notch as she lowered the bottle and raised a brow at you — like you were the one being ridiculous.

“What?” she asked, brow arched, smirk full and unbothered.

You rolled your eyes so hard you practically saw your past lives. Your heart had already had enough of her this morning and it wasn’t even 9.

Ellie scoffed, crossing her arms. “Okay, hotshot. Stop rolling your eyes and finish your breakfast so we can start already.”

You scoffed right back, grabbing the last piece of avocado sandwich. “You’re just gonna tease me the whole time.”

She shrugged, already turning toward the door again, boots thudding against the floor. “Probably.”

You sat beneath the shade of an old oak tree, the soft rustle of leaves above you mixing with the distant sound of hooves. The blanket you'd brought was bunched beside you, forgotten. You'd been sitting on the grass for a while now, elbows resting on your knees, eyes fixed on her.

The field wasn’t far from the house — just a stretch of open land kissed golden by the sun, ringed with hills and wind-worn fences. But it felt like a different world out here. Wide and quiet.

And in the middle of it, Ellie.

She rode like she’d been born in the saddle — back straight, legs loose, posture relaxed but strong. The horse moved in smooth, easy circles, responding to her slightest touch. Like the two of them shared some secret language only they understood.

Your eyes didn’t know where to land — the wind tugging at the edge of her flannel tied around her waist, the sunlight catching in her face, the way she leaned forward to stroke the horse’s neck when it slowed.

God.

She looked like a movie.

Or a dream.

Or both.

You hugged your knees tight to your chest, chin resting there as you watched her laugh softly at something the horse did — a quiet chuckle you couldn’t hear from this far, but felt anyway.

And then she turned them toward you.

Your breath caught slightly as they trotted over, hooves kicking up soft tufts of earth. She looked almost unreal with the sun behind her, hat low on her forehead, a crooked smirk on her lips as she neared.

You stood up quickly, brushing off your jumper shorts, trying to swipe the dirt from the backs of your thighs. The material already felt too short, but you were too far gone to care. Your tank top clung lightly with sweat and the air smelled like grass and horsehair and everything good.

Ellie’s eyes flicked over you as she slowed the horse, her gaze dragging for just a second longer than it needed to — from your boots to your hat to the way your shorts clung too high on your legs.

She swung down from the saddle with ease, her boots hitting the earth with a soft thud. You stepped forward, reaching a hand toward the horse’s mane, fingers brushing gently.

“She’s not gonna throw you off,” Ellie said, voice low and calm. “She’s used to this.”

You looked at her, brow raised. “Used to what? Newbies climbing all over her like idiots?”

Ellie grinned. “Something like that.”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your hand flat to the horse’s neck. Its warmth was grounding. She blinked at you slowly, patient.

“Alright,” you muttered, shifting nervously. “Let’s do it before I change my mind.”

Ellie stepped closer, hand outstretched. “C’mere.”

You took it.

She braced one hand on your waist and the other clasped yours tight. Her fingers curled securely around you, steady and familiar. You could feel her strength in the way she lifted — not all at once, but gradually, guiding you, tilting you upward as your foot found the stirrup and you pushed.

Your breath caught a little as she boosted you up, her grip never faltering.

Once you were seated, legs awkwardly settling into place, you looked down at her — still standing close, her palm just barely leaving your waist.

You tried to ignore how warm it made you feel.

But then she stepped toward the stirrup again, climbing up behind you.

Your heart skipped.

“What are you—”

“I’m not letting you go out on your first ride alone,” Ellie said easily, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like her jeans didn’t brush yours as she settled into the saddle. Like her chest wasn’t brushing your back. Like her voice wasn’t curling against the side of your neck.

Her arms reached forward, one on either side of you, fingers taking hold of the reins. You could feel the brush of her sleeve against your arm, the warmth of her breath as she leaned in to speak.

“Okay,” she murmured, low and slow. “Loosen your grip. Sit straight, but not stiff. Let your body move with her.”

You swallowed hard, nodding slowly, every nerve ending buzzing.

The heat between you wasn’t just from the sun.

It was her.

All of her.

Right there.

You could feel her — her steady breathing, the subtle way her fingers moved, the way her hips shifted behind you slightly with the horse’s rhythm.

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for the reins too, your fingers brushing over hers for a second before you found your grip.

The horse began to move forward. Smoothly at first. You tried to match its rhythm. Tried to listen to Ellie’s quiet instructions.

But it was hard to focus on anything when you were that aware of her body behind yours, steady and warm and impossibly close.

You wanted it to go well, at least.

You wanted her to be impressed.

But your nerves got the better of you.

Without meaning to, you jerked slightly — something too sharp in your hands, too sudden — and the horse gave a startled whinny before breaking into a faster gallop.

“Ah—!” you shrieked, eyes wide. Your body tensed as panic gripped you.

But then —

Ellie’s hand landed over yours.

Her other arm wrapped slightly tighter around your middle.

“Hey,” she said softly near your ear, her voice calm and solid. “Breathe. I’ve got her.”

You did. Somehow.

The horse slowed, falling back into that smooth, easy pace again.

But your heart?

Still galloping.

Ellie didn’t move her hand. It hovered there over yours, her fingertips brushing your knuckles. The world felt quieter now, smaller — the two of you and the soft clop of hooves in the grass.

You glanced over your shoulder slightly.

Her face was close — too close — sun-kissed and unreadable, eyes fixed ahead, but you could feel her looking at you anyway.

She smirked.

“Not bad,” she murmured, voice husky. “It’s your first. It’ll get better.”

You turned back around quickly, biting your bottom lip so hard it might bruise.

But nothing could calm your pulse now.

Not even Ellie.

Especially not Ellie.

The horse kept circling, steady and slow.

You weren’t sure if it was the quiet comfort of the ride or the way your heartbeat had just started to calm, but the silence didn’t feel heavy. It was full of the warmth behind you, the slight sway of her movements synced with yours. The rhythm of hoofbeats on dirt. The breath of wind combing through the field.

You could feel everything.

The closeness. The way her chest brushed your back with each inhale. The warmth of her arms, steady at your sides. The occasional shift of her hand near yours on the reins.

“You smell so good,” Ellie said suddenly, voice low. “Like… honey.”

You felt her exhale the words, the breath left her before she could hold it back.

Your face burned immediately. “I always smell good,” you tried to snap, but it came out embarrassingly soft.

Behind you, Ellie let out a scoffing kind of laugh. She was amused. You could hear the smile in it.

“Speaking of honey… you wanna go get some fresh stuff?”

“Uh—yeah. Sure.”

Ellie didn’t say anything else. She adjusted her grip, the reins shifting smoothly as she guided the horse off the main loop and down a narrow path through the grass. You didn’t do much — just hovered your hand above the leather straps, letting her lead. She clearly knew where she was going.

The world around you changed slowly. The sky felt lower here, trees crowding in close, sunlight filtering through leaves. The path was uneven, small branches brushing against your arms. You passed a half-collapsed fence, its wooden beams leaning at weird angles.

Finally, the horse slowed.

You looked up to see a tall, wild-looking tree — thick bark, broad shade, and a whole mess of bees floating lazily around its base.

Ellie hopped off like it was the easiest thing in the world, boots hitting the earth with a soft thud.

You didn’t move. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you weren’t entirely sure how.

You sighed and started fumbling with your leg, trying to figure out which direction your foot needed to go, but before you could do anything—

Ellie was already there. Hands sliding to your waist.

“Wait—”

She lifted you like it was nothing, lowering you gently to the ground before you could finish protesting.

You landed on your feet, a little stunned.

“I could’ve gotten down on my own,” you muttered, brushing your hands on your shorts.

Ellie tilted her head, not looking at you as she replied, “You don’t know how. And it’d take too long.”

You huffed. “Well, you’re supposed to be patient with your student.”

Ellie scoffed, already walking toward the tree. “Stay there.”

You didn’t have time to argue before she stepped right into the swarm of bees — her movements unbothered, casual. She reached right into a hollow in the tree, hand vanishing into the shadows, bees buzzing around her like she was part of the air itself.

Your eyes widened. “Oh my god—”

You clutched your chest, watching in disbelief as she pulled out a sticky hunk of honeycomb like she’d done it a hundred times before. She moved calmly, brushing a few bees away with the back of her hand. The honey caught the light as it dripped, golden and slow.

You stayed frozen while she tucked the comb into a small jar — you had no idea where she’d pulled that from — and sealed it with a soft clink. The bees didn’t even follow her.

She came back over like it was nothing.

You gaped at her.

“You could’ve been killed, y’know,” you blurted. “And you just made me stand here and watch it.”

Ellie scoffed, smirking at you like you were being ridiculous again. “I do this all the time,” she said, holding the jar out to you. “Here.”

You didn’t take it.

You just stared.

So she twisted the lid open instead, dipping two fingers inside.

Then — without breaking eye contact — she brought them to her mouth and tasted it.

“Sweet,” she said, licking it clean..

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[chunkiimilk]

old lesvid doodles

[kittymand]

TTotBT Lesvid

“Maybe you’re my tiger.”

[tulinokkaelain]

VamPride - Day 9: Nightmares (I'm late...)

Me? Just out here trying to learn how to draw old men.

One should under no condition ever approach a sleeping vampire....unless???! It's your most special vampire friend (toasted)

@valenfangs

[ireallyamnot-gay]

fuck man im 65 pages into totbt

why does NO ONE. LITERALLY ZERO PEOPLE(thativeseen) talk about lestat and davids thing theyve got going

LITERALLY THE TENSION BETWEEN THEM IS INSANE

[proffbon]

The drafts version of TTotBT prologue is just Lestat flirting with old men

[apollosmuserp]

Open RP || Rockstar Lestat de Lioncourt, modern day (18+ ONLY)

It was great to be back in New Orleans.

Lestat’s tour had been a roaring success so far, a glorious bacchanal of sound and adoration. He was no stranger to sold-out shows, but all his prior performances were pale imitations of the warm, fevered welcome of his beloved city. The crowd was unlike anything he’d ever seen before: thousands of screaming, adoring fans, all clamoring for just a fleeting moment of his attention. Their fervor was invigorating, and he loved every minute of it. It was a potent drug, enough to temporarily silence the cavernous echo of his own loneliness. Beneath the searing glare of the stage lights, he was a god. He was loved, worshipped, and adored, at least until the performance ended.

As the concert came to a close and the band played their final encore, Lestat stood center stage, letting the lingering screams and chants wash over him, numbing the dull, persistent ache that had already begun to stir in the hollows of his chest. The last notes of the song died out, and he lingered in the wings backstage, watching as the audience shuffled out of the concert hall in hordes, until every last seat in the house was empty.

An eerie, suffocating silence descended over the venue as he made his way back to his dressing room. His bandmates were already back on the tour bus, but Lestat could not shake the prickling sensation of being watched. Something told him he was not alone.

He dismissed this feeling, redirecting his attention to his reflection in the dressing room mirror. The glass showed a vision of rock-star perfection, sweat-slicked and radiant, but it was nothing more than another performance. He used the hem of his silk shirt to wipe away the glittering sheen of blood-sweat from his brow. As he examined his reflection, a flicker of movement in the darkness behind him made his still heart skip a beat. There, nestled between a rack of sequined jackets and leather trousers, a familiar pair of eyes peered back at him from the shadows, studying his every move. Lestat would recognize those eyes anywhere. His lips curled slowly into a knowing smile as he addressed the presence watching him. “You can come out now, mon petit voyeur.  I already know you’re here. Did you enjoy the show?”

[leliodevalois]

Hello and welcome! This is a roleplay blog for Lestat de Lioncourt of the Vampire Chronicles series, written by Anne Rice. A brief introduction:

This is an NSFW, 18+ blog. Minors are absolutely not permitted to interact, under any circumstances.

Reblogging is fine; asks are always welcome, of course. Lestat loves to talk about himself.

This pinned post will serve as my one trigger warning; the Vampire Chronicles series explores a wide variety of mature, dark, and upsetting topics, and this blog will not shy away from them. Please proceed with caution. (If we end up writing a longer RP together, I'm happy to discuss individual trigger warnings during the brainstorming process.)

Lestat is my favorite character of all time; I primarily pull from book canon in my portrayal of him, but I enjoy the movie and show too, and am open to AUs.

I'm open to writing on Discord as well. Please DM me if interested.

And finally a little about the person behind this blog: I am 27 and have been writing and RPing for over 14 years! I’m currently studying psychology and creative writing; I am an actor, a poet, a practicing witch, and I collect haunted objects. Life is busy as always, but I’m thrilled to be back to doing what I love most and writing every single day. OOC posts will be rare and tagged accordingly; I’m shy and don’t always love being perceived. Lestat, however, will happily take the spotlight. ❤︎⁠