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porcelainseashore · 5 months ago

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Into the Ether (10)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 10: Devil's Advocate

You woke up again with a start, your face buried against something hard which stirred. Groggily, you nuzzled it, unwilling to fully come to just yet. Fingers sifted through your hair as you felt a chaste kiss planted atop your head.

Oh.

The events of what had transpired the night before replayed through your mind as you kept your eyes shut, stilling yourself despite the fact that you were pressed right into Leon’s chest. Thank god you hadn’t activated Blush of Life yet and weren’t breathing. You could pretend to have fallen back to sleep a second time and he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Or would he? Did daysleep work this way?

“I’ll head down first and make us a drink, sleepy head.” His voice vibrated through his chest like a deep rumble as he chuckled, kissing your forehead another time before letting go.

Of course he knew you were awake, he’d been at this game for much longer and could spot the signs. The mattress shifted under his weight and the sheets piled as he rose up, your body swaying gently from the ripples of movement. Footsteps pattered across the floor and down the stairs. You heard a door open and the showerhead turn on, the sound of water splashing onto the ground drowning out the racket in your brain.

Clearer thoughts started to form. You kissed him. No, well, he kissed you first. But you kissed back. That had to mean something, right? Or was it just a pity kiss? Then why did you invite him to join you in bed? You had broken your number one rule in just over a week. Go figure.

He went through something harrowing back at the Bakers and you were being there for him as a ‘sort of’ friend. Because friends totally kiss each other. Not once, not twice, but multiple times throughout the course of the night. You tried to remember what it was like, his lips on yours as you involuntarily brushed your fingers against your mouth. It was soft and sweet, everything you wanted—

No, stop!

You felt ashamed for thinking that way. Was this some kind of Stockholm Syndrome you were experiencing? Falling for the man who turned you into what you were? You would have fallen twice then: once when you were alive, and again when you were undead. It was too much to think about first thing in the early evening. The shower turned off.

A few minutes later, you heard someone rummaging through the kitchen cabinets and the clinking of glasses. Drink first, talk later. Just play it cool and act oblivious, like you would when a customer at the cafe tried to chat you up. The greatest irony of it was that Leon had been one of them too.

Making your way towards the counter, you leaned your elbows on it, watching Leon as he poured a bag’s worth of blood into two glasses. His hair was damp and in a tousled mess from being roughly towel-dried. Beads of water trickled down his neck onto his bare chest. You swallowed thickly, realizing it was the first time you’d seen him topless with nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants on. Your eyes trailed across a scar on his left shoulder which he must’ve gotten in his mortal life, over to the gold necklace he wore without fail on a daily basis, noting the cross pendant attached to it.

A quick glance at his face confirmed that he was still concentrating on what seemed to be the longest drink-pouring process ever. So, you continued to rake your gaze along his athletic build, which you assumed was honed from police training. It traveled from his tapered waistline to his lean abs, finally reaching the hem of his pants that hung loosely on his hips.

“Drink? Or are you too busy eye fucking me right now?” he teased, a smug smile playing across his lips as he slid a glass over to you.

It was just your luck that he’d catch you red-handed. But that didn’t mean you were going to give in. You snorted, narrowing your eyes at him as you brought the rim of the glass to your mouth. “You should put a shirt on.”

“Why? Am I being a distraction?” There was that stupid wink again.

Taking a hearty swig, you allowed the blood to wash down your throat, revitalizing your senses. “You give yourself too much credit for your looks.”

Pointing at his necklace, you commented, “Guess crosses don’t burn you, huh?”

“What have I told you about silly superstitions?” He folded his arms, raising an eyebrow as he feigned a look of being unimpressed. “Only a person who possesses True Faith can use these symbols to damage us.”

“Have you met any of them?” you quizzed.

“Thankfully, no,” he admitted. “They’re rare, but some of them lie within the ranks of the SI.”

Placing the glass back onto the table, you probed further, “Were you religious back then?”

Your question must’ve taken him by surprise, as a range of mixed emotions swept across his face. “Yeah, born and baptized Catholic,” he replied, scratching the side of his head sheepishly.

The memory you’d seen of him praying in the church flashed through your mind. It must’ve been his main source of solace back then. Had it changed since? Where did he find comfort now?

“You still believe in a god?”

He pursed his lips, sipping at the remaining blood in his glass slowly. “Yes, I do,” he finally decided. “But whoever it is, I’m pretty sure they won’t have me.”

Twirling the glass in his hand, he continued, “We belong to Caine now, our Dark Father, as Noddist scholars like to say.”

Whenever Leon talked in this way, it felt like hearing a bedtime story. You wondered if he really believed in all the myths and legends Kindred liked to tell themselves. Turning your back to the counter, you pressed your palms flat on its surface, pushing yourself up so you could sit on it.

Looking over your shoulder, you met his pale blue eyes. “I never believed in anyone up there,” you stated. “Always thought we’d go back into the earth when we died.”

It was his turn to ask, “Do you fear dying?”

“Not really.” You shook your head. “I think it’s like a comatose sleep from which you never wake up. The thing is whether you suffer beforehand.”

Being able to speak freely about such morbid topics with Leon comforted you in some way, even though you found it amusing how you got there in the first place.

Discarding his glass, he circled around the counter, leaning his hip against its edge beside you. “I fear it sometimes,” he revealed quietly.

“Are you afraid of going to hell?” you suggested, wondering if it was a form of subconscious religious guilt that haunted him.

He averted his gaze. “For the things I’ve done, yeah,” he answered, offering no further explanation.

Against your better judgment, you reached out to touch his face, though he caught your hand gently in mid-air. Stroking the back of it with his thumb, he raised your palm to his lips, kissing it reverently. “But I won’t drag you down with me,” he murmured into your skin.

One thing led to another, and before you knew it, he had moved between your legs, supporting himself with his arms positioned on either side of your body. Was he doing this to distract you from the can of worms you’d almost uncovered? Would he ever truly open up to you?

For a moment, it seemed as if time stood still, while he tried to read the expression in your eyes. There was your chance — the slim window he had offered you to protest or say anything at all, but you didn’t. You couldn’t even breathe. So much for playing it cool.

Bending forward, he captured your lips in a quick kiss, breaking away to peer at you, as though he was testing the waters. It didn’t take long for him to bridge the gap again, taking your lips into his hungrily, like an animal who’d been laid out to starve in the heat. You wanted him, yet at the same time, you couldn’t. And the latter, more rational side happened to be winning in the ensuing battle.

“Mm—” Kiss. “Um—” Another kiss. “Leon?”

“Yeah?” he slurred, as if drunk on your taste, before kissing you again.

It took every ounce of your resolve to shove him off you by his shoulders. He stopped abruptly, panting through swollen lips and his eyes glazed over in want. Though they soon widened in panic as he saw the look of discomfort written across your face.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought you—”

“This isn’t right,” you whispered, trying to convince nobody but yourself. You hopped down, pushing away from the table, as you brushed past him, rubbing your mouth gingerly with your hand. “You’ve already damned me, and I feel like I hardly know you at all.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Back at NEST, you were immediately accosted by Jill, who had been waiting eagerly for your updates on the case. At the moment, things between you and Leon were awkward. It felt like you were back to square one with him, where neither of you dared to say anything to each other. He gave you the space he thought you needed, though you could spot the worry and concern in his eyes whenever they met yours briefly.

In the server room, Leon ran through the information you had gathered from the Bakers, showing Hunnigan the supposed Sabbat hotspots they had marked out on the map.

“Good work, Leon,” she remarked appreciatively, clicking to zoom in on the areas he had highlighted on the screen. “My sources have correlated with the river route too. A bunch of homeless people going missing under the bridges. They’re probably tapping into them as vessels and potential cannon fodder.”

“It’s like they’re baiting,” Leon noted. “Their last attack was sloppily executed—”

“It was a fucking shitshow,” Jill interjected.

“Just seems like they weren’t serious about creating an army,” he deduced. “They just wanted the attention.”

Jill clicked her tongue. “No offense, but when have they ever been organized? They’ve never cared about attracting a lot of attention either.”

“True,” Leon agreed. “But even the Sabbat have their limits.”

Rocking back and forth on his feet, you could sense that he was getting nervous about what he was about to say next. Silently, you prayed that he would keep his word about not revealing Lucas’ involvement in the matter. The Baker family had helped you out and were counting on you to do the same.

“By the way, you were right, Hunnigan,” he started off. “A Sabbat member cast Dementation on them.”

Hunnigan nodded, smiling to herself in satisfaction, whereas Jill piped up, “Any clue as to who this Sabbat member is?”

You felt your throat constrict as you eyed Leon questioningly. He caught your gaze and a flicker of understanding passed between you. The corners of your mouth curled up slightly into a subtle smile, which he returned for a split second before turning to face Jill again. He was going to keep quiet about Lucas’ identity after all.

“A Malkavian,” he answered vaguely. “That’s how the Bakers sensed them through the Cobweb. But other than that, no clue as to who it is.”

Jill cocked her head, scrutinizing his features intently. “You sure?”

He met her stare dead-on with a blank expression on his face. “Of course.”

She shifted her gaze towards you briefly, squinting as she studied your reaction while you tried to remain as calm and indifferent as you could. Finally, she sighed, “Fine, what about Rebecca?”

“We’re working on it,” Leon reassured her. “Her Regent has been creating some complications, but we’ll get to her soon.”

“Listen, do whatever you need to do, Kennedy,” she ordered hastily. “We need that girl.”

Whenever Jill used his last name, he knew she meant it as a threat. Do it, or else. Time was running out, and he needed to make a decision quickly.

After the meeting, he dropped you off at the lounge, asking you to wait for him there while he ‘sorted things out’ with the Tremere Primogen. Before he left, you grabbed his hand, squeezing it as he looked back at you in astonishment.

“Thank you,” you mouthed, acknowledging his earlier efforts in keeping his promise.

You still weren’t keen on what he was about to do with the Tremere, but you could see that he was trying to change.

“Don’t mention it.” His fingers ghosted the outline of your jaw. Perhaps you just needed time and would come round to him at some point. “I won’t take long.”

On his way to the offices, he observed the Tremere Primogen busy chatting with another Kindred. He’d timed it well, taking advantage of when she usually took her breaks to socialize with others roaming around Elysium. Keeping himself inconspicuous, he slinked away from the crowd, continuing towards the more mundane areas of the building. Still, a nagging feeling burrowed deep in his chest.

Was it really such a good idea for Glenn Arias to take over as Primogen? He would essentially become a mini-dictator among the Tremere of Raccoon City. And no matter how much Leon wanted to avoid internal clan politics, he would have had a hand to play in it. A serious one, with significant consequences that, like it or not, would affect everyone else as well. Was he ready to do that?

Your words came back to haunt him. How many compromises was he willing to make? Would there be nothing left within him at the end? Just an empty shell of a man, his husk dry and withering. He wondered how the elder vampires felt as their humanity trickled away, ebbing into the recesses of the abyss. It was inevitable, a voice told him. You’re only fighting a losing battle, it added.

“What would you do?” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes and as he imagined addressing his former mortal self.

There he was, the golden boy, fresh out of his training from the police academy. He had everything going for him then, graduating with top marks and being singled out for the fast track detective pathway within the RPD. His idealism and innocence hadn’t yet been tainted — he still knew what was right from wrong. Not this murky gray mess, like sludge he waded through to get to the other side. Each time, sinking a little deeper as the mud shifted under his feet, until he was fully covered in the filth.

The boy in front of him was beaming, his closed mouth smile stretching from ear to ear, radiant like a haloed angel. So close, he could reach out and touch him. His fingers sifted through the specter, the light refracting at different angles on his hand as it moved. For years, he had looked back on his younger persona, calling him names: naive, childish, stupid. He thought he had known better, when in fact, he knew nothing at all.

“You already know,” the figure spoke, his warm palm coming to rest on top of Leon’s shoulder before vanishing into thin air.

Opening his eyes, he took a few steps forward only to come to a halt. He thumbed the side of the file nestled in the inner pocket of his suit jacket, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. If this is what it would come to, then so be it.

Spinning on his heel, he headed back in the opposite direction from which he came, aborting his original plan.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Excuse me.” Leon wedged himself politely between the Tremere Primogen and her current company, highlighting with a sense of urgency, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I have a word with you in private?”

Thankfully, the Primogen was apt at reading between the lines and took his cue, departing swiftly with him towards her office. Once they had settled in at her desk, he handed her the documents that had been weighing heavily on his person all this while.

“Mr. Arias put me up to this,” he proceeded cautiously, making sure to leave out your name, in case this ended up backfiring on him. “He’s been eyeing your position for a while.”

The Primogen let out a hearty laugh. “Of course he has! That scoundrel.” She shook her head, flipping through the pages within the file. “Oh, Glenn… what to do with you?”

Peeling a sheet out from the folder, she lifted it, holding it towards the beam of light hanging overhead as she examined it closely. “Hmm, impressive,” she stated. “Perfectly forged. And I know who the accomplice is as well.” She wiggled her eyebrows in mirth.

Leaning back in her seat, she rested her hands behind her head and continued, “So, tell me. What is it you want?”

“Huh?” He had partaken in many deals of a similar nature before, but for once, he was stumped.

She rolled her eyes in impatience and sighed, “You didn’t just betray Glenn out of the goodness of your heart, did you?”

Actually, he did, was what he wanted to say, but instead, he went with, “With all due respect, ma’am, I’d rather not get involved with Tremere politics.”

“Hmph,” she grunted, clearly unconvinced by his antics. “Well, let’s put it this way. Why did you head over to see Glenn in the first place?”

Smart lady, he thought. She wanted to repay the boon incurred as soon as possible to avoid it hanging over her head.

“I needed to make contact with Ms. Chambers,” he narrated earnestly. “Her expertise would prove insightful in tying up some loose ends we’ve had with the recent attacks.”

At this, she sat up straight, scooping up the bunch of papers as she tapped them triumphantly against the table to align the edges before stowing them away in the folder. “Then, consider it done, Mr. Kennedy.”

He rose to his feet and bowed respectfully. “Thank you for your assistance.”

She waved him off as if it were no bother. “I’ll need some time to take care of… her Regent,” she added slyly. “He’s had it coming though, I can assure you. Now, we’ll finally be able to put an end to this nonsense.”

“Shall we say end of the week?” she suggested, already planning her next steps and penning down the appointment date in her scheduler without waiting for his reply.

Nonetheless, he thought it courteous to do so. “Yes, that works,” he uttered to the blank wall in front of him, while she had her head buried in her notes, scribbling some random symbols on them as she hummed.

“Perfect,” she answered, still not looking up from her desk.

Was it really that easy? He couldn’t believe it, thinking that there must be some sort of trick lying in wait as he shuffled awkwardly out of the office. But there was none. Perhaps he had been wrong about things all along.

━━━━━━━━━━━

In the meantime, you’d been waiting anxiously within your booth, occasionally glancing at the curtains, hoping to see Leon’s face rather than some security personnel coming to escort you away for a crime that was being committed at that very moment. The curtains drew open slightly and a familiar head poked through. Too familiar. You were experiencing a serious case of fucking déjà vu.

“Darling…” her smooth, velvety voice made the hairs at the back of your neck stand.

“What do you want, Ada?” you asked, not caring to mask the mistrust in your voice. With the way your last meeting with her went, you wanted to avoid her at all costs.

She tutted, sildling over to you as you inched away. “You’re beginning to sound a lot like him, you know?”

Him. Your sire. Leon.

“That’s not a bad thing,” you stated defensively.

“Is that so?” she asked coyly. “Where is your sire now, anyway?”

She gave off an air of disinterest, but it was all pretense. You knew she knew.

“He’s busy.”

She scoffed, picking at her fingernails. “Too busy to teach his childe properly it seems.”

Anger boiled in your veins. How dare she speak about Leon that way? “And you would know better?” you seethed.

This appeared to amuse her as she laughed in your face. “I taught him everything he needed to know, which is the reason he’s still alive,” she countered. “But you, my dear, won’t last a day without him.”

“That’s a lie—”

“When was the last time you fed properly?” Her voice overpowered yours with ease.

She meant through a hunt, not a ready-made blood bag waiting for you in Leon’s fridge, mocking you for being spoon-fed and pampered like the princess you were. You bit your lip, at a loss for words as you diverted your gaze.

“Thought so,” she declared. “It seems to me you haven’t truly accepted who you are, and your sire’s overprotectiveness is going to cause your downfall.”

“Why do you care?” you spat. You weren’t her childe; she wasn’t responsible for you.

Leaning forward, she whispered, “Well, if you must know, he paid a pretty price for you. So, I’d rather not see you make a fool of yourself — and by extension, him — especially when you have such potential.”

Your ears pricked up at her first sentence. Somehow, she had aroused your attention again. Turning to face her, you asked, “What kind of price?”

Evading your question, she followed up with another explanation of her own. “You see, it’s no secret that I’m more of a sire who would throw their childe into the deep end for them to adapt and survive.”

“You mean, what you did to me at the Rose Garden,” you concluded. Had Leon taken you instead, you would’ve been shielded from the elder vampires due to his presence. Would that have worked out for better or worse in the long run?

“Very good, you’re catching on.” She nodded approvingly. “Like it or not, everyone has their place in the hierarchy, and you will never be able to escape Kindred politics. So, it’s time you start learning.”

You wondered where she was going with this conversation. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach that this wasn’t bound to end well, but curiosity got the better of you, and you stayed rooted to the couch to listen.

“There will come a point where you’ll need to make deals of your own,” she forewarned. “Deals that you may not like. Even your sire has had his fair share of them.”

Was she trying to lower your opinion of him? Something inside of you made you want to fight back. “I know that,” you snapped. “But he’s a good person.”

You said it so genuinely that Ada paused for a moment in stunned silence, before she broke out into a roguish smile. A smile that instantly told you that you were clinging onto false hope.

“Are you sure?” she challenged. “How well do you know him?”

They were the questions you’d been dreading, but you couldn’t give up on him. Not now.

“Yes, he is,” you repeated, though it came out more like a squeak. “I know it.” You didn’t. But that didn’t stop you from wanting to believe.

“What is he doing now then?”

“None of your goddamn business,” you barked, biting your inner cheek until you tasted blood. You knew she was trying to rile you up and you needed to get a hold on yourself, but she was relentless.

“What do you think he did as my lover for over ten years?” She glowed victoriously as if she had won a game of chess. Check-fucking-mate.

“He never told you about the vessel business, did he?”

“What do you mean by that?” you croaked, even though you had an inkling of what it entailed. It wasn��t difficult to guess from the terminology used, but maybe you had a masochistic side that still wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.

“There are some Kindred who have an acquired taste, and some who merely want to try something exquisite,” she explained. “If you could afford the best of the best, wouldn’t you too want to partake in it?”

Bile rose to your throat as you protested weakly, “No.” It was all you could utter. You felt the energy drain from your body as you braced for the worst.

“Your sire delivered such vessels to me, in exchange for favors,” she revealed salaciously. “That’s his place in the hierarchy.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you cast your gaze downwards, clenching your fists as hard as you could to stop yourself from screaming. How could you fall for this worthless piece of shit? To think you even tried to defend him earlier made you nauseous.

But the final nail in the coffin was when she disclosed, “In fact, he was supposed to make me a delivery, just around the time when he found you.”

Your eyes shot up to meet hers.

“Sad to say, he still owes me on that one,” she added.

It was you. You were meant to be the vessel. Cupping your hands over your mouth, you took in painful, labored breaths. The little world you had idealized for the two of you was crumbling. The room spun and it felt as if your heart had been ripped out of its chest and torn asunder.

“Angel…?” You heard his voice calling out to you, but you couldn’t respond.

“Ada, what did you do?” His tone turned accusing.

“Her sire’s job,” she replied rather matter-of-factly. “Telling her the things she should hear.”

Dashing over to you, he clasped your hands in his. You pulled away, getting up from the couch as you socked him in the gut, winding him. He crouched over, clutching his abdomen and panting.

“Was I the perfect vessel for you?” you taunted, your voice dripping with venom.

A tumultuous storm brewed in his eyes, filled with self-loathing and despair. He couldn’t deny your statement, but it wasn’t the whole story. “You meant so much more to me,” he professed. “Always have, always will.”

“You’re despicable,” you hissed. “You make me sick.”

He couldn’t bear to look at you when you said that. Your hatred for him stabbed deep, carving a gaping hole in his heart. Instead, he directed his rage towards Ada, his face red and puffy as he yelled, “You think you’re so righteous? Tell her what you fucking did to me!”

She smirked at him in response before quietly walking away. Her work here was done.

When he turned back to you, there was a maddened, hysterical look in his gaze. “She blood bonded me and I was forced to do her dirty work!” he exclaimed.

But you weren’t listening anymore. All you could hear was the rush of blood pounding in your ears. “Are you still bonded?” you contested. “Who’s forcing you now?”

His mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry land gasping for air. He had nothing left to say in his defense. There was no one else to blame but himself; he had been the monster all along.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #fic: into the ether #porcelainscribbles

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 1 year ago

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Pedro memes pt 6

previously, on "Puddles has a problem": ✨part 1✨ ✨part 2✨ ✨part 3✨ ✨part 4✨ ✨part 5✨

I got some requests for more fic reaction type memes, so those are down there somewhere :)

ca-cawww ca-caawwwwwwwww

yah he has two mouths and two noses. so what? it was a creative choice that i will stand by.

Pedro-chu, I choose YOU!

shocked Pedro-chu

float like a buttahfly

Have you ever had a dream that you, um, you had, your, you- you could, you’ll do, you- you wants, you, you could do so, you- you’ll do, you could- you, you want, you want them to do you so much you could do anything?

me after I read @netherfeildren's I Urge You: Bite Me

sneaky sneaky wood go creaky // aight imma head out

you're gonna hear my feedback whether u like it or not (said w love). [[AHEM]] this one's for you: @cavillscurls @frannyzooey @haylzcyon @hier--soir @tieronecrush @ezrasbirdie @pascalisbaby @pascalsbby

sad swirlz 4 sad gurlz

still sad but also in luv

dramamine all day, bb, it's a bumpy ride 'round these parts. @cool-iguana im raising anchor to your dom!Din. "I BRAKE FOR MERMAIDS" is for @psychedelic-ink. "I <3 MY SEAMAN" is for @walkintotheriveranddisappear hahaha

put some motion in my ocean cuz there's se(a)men in that ship. @thetriumphantpanda this is for you for many, many reasons. you, too, @jrrmint

there's 3 of these

no seriously

bc I'm obsessed any nobody can stop me not even myself

HO-HO-HOrny

nurse Pedro has such good bedside manner. sending @fuckyeahdindjarin all the love in the world

i'm fine. this is fine. I LOVE IT.

see?

THIS JUST IN! @chloeangelic this is your line cook!Joel influence

additional sidebar if you care abt the integrity of journalism. @iamskyereads all the extra words are in honor of Compulsion, featuring my fave verbose slut Ezra

y'all. I went back and counted, and in just under two weeks I've posted just under 100 (97 to be exact) original Pedro memes. what in the actual FUCK is wrong with me hahahahahaha.

I'm gonna focus a bit on my writing (yeah, I write fic, too lmaoooo) for a little bit before posting more memes. bc there's always more memes where I'm concerned. in the meantime, you can check out ✨✨✨ MY MASTERLIST ✨✨✨ if you want more from my beautiful goblin brain.

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

(mostly) tagging anybody who reblogged the last one:

@innerpersonunknown @talaok @atinylittlepain @hecatombix @thesummerpetrichor @atticrissfinch @joelscruff @your-slutty-gf @bonezone44 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @toxicanonymity @pedrit0-pascalit0 @pr0ximamidnight @zohaaan @chaotic-mystery @goodwithcheese @wannab-urs @sin-djarin @drewharrisonwriter @lucyeyelesbarrow @angiees-things @tbeep @tonys-fav-bitch @lovers-liability @pedroswife69 @pedropascalfan221 @lalosbxtch @bubblepopneurotic @vee-bees-blog @admirxation @daniegraceg @swiftispunk

↓ additional tags in comments ↓

#a word from puddles #memes n tingz #pedro pascal memes #im back on my bullshit

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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 1 month ago

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･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　liztober　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙✧･ﾟ: *✧

this halloween season i have decided to write 10 short (like 1.2-2.2k) fics based on the results from the kinktober form that i put up a few months back.

fics will come out on every tuesday (so, first one today!) and thursday this month at 7pm EST.

i will make a masterlist for these fics, but i'm going to make a separate taglist for this event, so i'm going to link a form down below

tagging some mutuals in case you want to be put on this taglist (i just went thru who's been in my blog activity recently, so not trying to leave anyone out or pressure anyone to interact)

@gothcsz @porcelainseashore @vaaaaaiolet

@almostempty @rigorwhoring @leonsdolly

@evolnoomym @dollfacefantasy @leonfucker3000

@puppiediary @admirxation @thundermartini @abadtzmaru

#navigation #important

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admirxation · 7 months ago

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˗ˏˋ 𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ´ˎ˗

🍙 — NSFW content ahead. Please check warnings before you read a fic; continue at your own discretion.

★彡[ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ]彡★

★ — 𝐂𝐡𝐨��𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨

Just like that {NSFW} ~ Choso’s college roommate has gone for the weekend, enough time for him to invite his special girl over.

His favourite {NSFW} ~ Choso never understood the point of paying onlyfans, until he stumbles on the readers profile.

Mind body and soul {NSFW} ~ Choso is losing his virginity to his loving girlfriend.

★ — 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨

Dark Ice {NSFW} ~ The reader has always been curious about Gojo's blindfold, resulting in an experience he shares that makes her go crazy. [blindfolding + temperature play]

★ — 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

It starts with a swipe {NSFW} ~ the reader is feeling lonely so she decides to go through with a hookup with a guy she recently matched with. [tinder hookup]

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen masterlist #admirxation masterlist #masterlist #admirxation #divider by cafekitsune

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admirxation · 6 months ago

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˗ˏˋ 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ´ˎ˗

🍙 — NSFW content ahead. Please check warnings before you read a fic; continue at your own discretion.

★彡[ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ]彡★

★ — 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭

I Don't Mind Doing All the Work {NSFW} ~ the reader is feeling tired but Armin is so desperate for them, so he's willing to do all the work and give her all the princess treatment.

★ — 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

Distance {NSFW} ~ Levi is on a business trip and misses his partner, missing all the fun they had, so they have an intimate phone call. [phone sex]

#admirxation #admirxation masterlist #attack on titan masterlist #admirxations attack on titan masterlist #admirxation writes #divider by cafekitsune

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admirxation · 7 months ago

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˗ˏˋ 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 ´ˎ˗

🍙 — take note, most my fics include ooc. I like playing around with characters and putting spins on them (as one of my professors said it’s good practice to do this with learning about building character) if you don’t like ooc then my fics aren’t for you. Also, note I am from the UK so spellings as well as terms will be in British English, so please stop asking why I put a ‘u’ in certain words haha.

here is a link to my ao3, if you prefer to read on there and has a better tagging system if you're looking for something specific: here

resident evil

jujutsu kaisen

attack on titan

baldurs gate 3 {not writing for this fandom anymore}

kinktober 2024 {multifandom}

#divider by cafekitsune #admirxation #admirxations masterlists #masterlist #fanfiction masterlist

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admirxation · 7 months ago

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˗ˏˋ 𝐛𝐠𝟑 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ´ˎ˗

🍙 — NSFW and dark content ahead. Please check the warnings before you read a fic; continue at your own discretion.

★彡[ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ]彡★

★ — 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧

Messy Beauty {NSFW} ~ reader and Astarion spend time in the lake [vampire blood drinking]

★ — 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡

Force {NSFW} ~ Gortash tries to forcefully jog the reader's memory of their intimate history. [dddne//dark content//non-con]

#admirxation #admirxation baldurs gate 3 masterlist #baldurs gate 3 masterlist #baldurs gate 3 #masterlist #fanfiction #fanfiction masterlist #divider by cafekitsune

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admirxation · 7 months ago

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my masterlist is getting longgggg i think later on i might do some modifications and have it separated so it’s not overwhelming

#admirxation #admirxation talks #masterlist

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admirxation · 8 months ago

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ive added a wip's section on my masterlist if anybody gets curious on what im working on, when requests come in i will also put those in so people are aware if im working on them <3

also please send requests AH

#please send requests #requests #fanfiction requests #admirxation talks #masterlist #masterlist update #wips #my wips

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porcelainseashore · 5 months ago

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Into the Ether (12)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Author's Note: Smut including blood drinking, and some violence ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer @delulusimps ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 12: This Ready Flesh

His vision was blurry, tunneling in and out as he struggled to focus on the pavement in front of him. The street lights flickered, his retina capturing them in a mesmerizing delay, creating luminous streaks and trails across the sky. It had been ages since Leon had gotten into such a state where he couldn’t walk straight anymore, shambling in a zigzag pattern towards his destination. At least he still knew where he wanted to go — to you. It was all he could think about as he staggered into Café Noir, calling out your name while the other patrons delivered wary side glances.

In his inebriated haze, he stumbled through the crowd until he came across a figure he vaguely recognized. Grabbing the person by the collar, he sputtered, “Patrick, right?”

The young man nodded timidly, trying to back away, though Leon clung onto him firmly. “Where is she?”

He could even smell the strong stench of alcohol on his own breath as he spoke. The vessels he had drunken from earlier must have been completely wasted. He should know, since they had already passed out when he got to them. It was probably pure vodka running through their veins at this rate.

“Sh-she already left an hour ago,” Patrick stammered, cowering slightly in fear.

Jesus Christ, what did this boy ever do to you? Leon sighed. He was scaring people unintentionally, looking all crazed with his bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair. He didn’t even need a mirror to confirm that. What a fucking mess.

Right on cue, he saw the ponytailed redhead come into view, and she looked pissed. Great job, Leon, he berated himself. Now he was gonna get his ass kicked. But he deserved it. He deserved all of it.

“I’ll handle it from here,” she told Patrick calmly, before turning back to Leon with a deadly glare.

Dragging him by the arm over to a free table in one of the more private corners of the room, she shoved him onto a chair and ordered, “Stop terrorizing the locals.”

“Hi to you too, Redfield,” he mumbled despondently, slumping over with a hiccup before catching himself with his supporting arm.

Claire stabilized him, shaking her head disapprovingly as she sat in the opposite chair. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. On a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you right now?”

When he didn’t answer, she scolded, “Not a good look, Kennedy.”

“Yeah? What’s it to you, Claire?” he challenged, though his slurring made the words sound all jumbled together.

“Fuckin’ hell,” she cursed, tapping the side of his cheek rapidly, in a blind effort to get him to come to his senses. Finally, she came to a decision. “Okay, here's the deal. We’ll sit here until you sober up, and then, we’re gonna talk.”

Regardless, that didn’t prevent him from retorting, “Yes ma—”

“Shut it, Leon.”

It was an agonizing wait for the effects of the alcohol to dissipate, and it didn’t help that Claire kept throwing him dirty looks, warning him against trying anything funny. When he could finally string a proper sentence together without making a fool of himself, she spoke up, “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and it’s your private business, but something tells me I need to step in before this blows up in everyone’s faces.”

“What do you mean?” He caught the underlying warning in her words and sensed there was more than what she was letting on.

Sighing, she knocked back a mouthful of beer before continuing. “Let’s… save that for later,” she negotiated. “What’s gotten into you? Hell, I’ve never seen you like this, ever.”

He pinched his lips together, reluctant to come clean with his emotions. But he knew he had no one else he could talk to like this. It was one thing he appreciated about Claire, even though her backhanded comments often grated on his nerves, she would always be straight with him. She just pretended to be begrudging about it.

“She’s gonna leave me,” he muttered.

Claire raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. “So… this is how Leon Scott Kennedy, the great knight in shining armor, wins back his ‘one true love’, huh?” She mimicked quotation marks with her fingers in the air, adding salt to the wound. “By getting trashed and moping around?”

In any other circumstance, he would’ve fought back in an instant, exchanging cutting remarks laced with hidden barbed wire. Now, however, he remained passive and compliant, like a doll. “I did something unforgivable,” he finally admitted.

She snorted, propping her legs up on the table. “Yeah, you’ve done a lot of unforgivable things. We all have,” she emphasized.

Leaning forward, she prodded his chest with her finger accusingly. “You left us without a reason, no goodbye, nothing, and yet, Chris and I are still here, aren’t we?” She paused, taking a moment to recollect herself, and rolled her eyes. “God, that was soppy. Just, er, fuck— rewind and erase that shit, will ya?”

Leon bit his lip, suppressing a laugh. “Sure, whatever you say, Claire.”

“Anyway, your fledgling is beginning to realize and understand that there’s no perfect little world for Kindred like us,” she began.

“Of course, she would run off to you Anarchs of all people,” Leon huffed, clicking his tongue in disdain. “She’s been collecting all sorts of injuries from the gym.”

She sat up straight, folding her arms across her chest in pride. “Thanks to Chris’ training.”

He groaned, burying his head in his hand.

“You have it bad for her—”

“I don’t—” he protested, though she interrupted him in return.

“She talks about you, you know?” At this, he fell silent and she added, “Not in a bad way.”

“What does she say?” he blurted out almost too quickly.

“You’ll have to ask her that yourself,” she replied coyly. “But I don’t think she’s over you yet.”

His heart swelled, though he tried to rein it in to prevent false hope from building up. After all, false hope was worse than having nothing to hope for.

“Just do me a favor, will ya?” she requested. “Don’t try to control her; it never works. Trust me, I know my kind when I see one.”

It was Leon’s turn to scoff, “You wish.” He knew you well. No matter how much of a rebel you were, you were a Toreador through and through.

“Now that I got your attention, we should move on to the serious topic I guess.” She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “There’s two things, which do you wanna hear first? The bad news or the bad news?”

“Claire…” he warned, his patience growing thin.

She placed her feet back down on the ground, unzipping her jacket to pull out a bunch of photographs from its inner pocket. Handing it over to him, she said, “I hate it whenever you’re right.”

“Get used to it,” he quipped back, shuffling through the pictures he assumed she had acquired from a bunch of surveillance cameras in the area. Then, he came across one that made him stop dead in his tracks.

Lucas. He was talking with someone, a tall figure with their back to the camera, obscured by a long cloak.

“A Sabbat member,” she clarified, pointing at Lucas’ image. “Turns out the suitor has been meeting with him regularly.”

“Shit,” he hissed. “You know this is a literal death sentence for the entire Anarch sect in Raccoon City, right? If Wesker finds out…” his voice trailed off as he witnessed Claire’s eyes watering up and her hands trembling. She knew the implications and she was scared.

“There’s something else though,” she stated, pushing forward despite her uneasiness.

Fishing out a separate photo from the stack, she held it before Leon. It was a zoomed-in version of the previous photograph. Tracing the outline of another shadowy figure in the background, she mentioned, “You see this here? There’s a third party involved, but we couldn’t make out who they were.”

Tightening his jaw, he promised, “I’ll keep this under wraps for now, but we need a plan, and we need it fast.” And then, he suddenly remembered. “What’s the other bad news?”

This seemed to make her even more unnerved, but she steadied herself and said, “The suitor has started taking an interest in your childe.”

His eyes gleamed lethally, already imagining the multitude of ways he would slice the guy into ribbons. “Who is this suitor?” he seethed, saliva foaming at his fanged teeth as his voice quivered in blistering rage.

She was mute, her eyes darted away from his, and her whole body was shaking. Something was very wrong.

“Claire!” He grasped her hands, both pleading and demanding, “I need to know!”

“The Baron,” she whispered, barely audible above the constant drone of background chatter.

His eyes widened. Like the Camarilla had their Prince, the Anarchs had their Baron. He’d just never expected such a big player to be involved. But then again, why wouldn’t he? Who would be as foolish and powerful enough to risk it all?

“Heisenberg.” The name flew out of his mouth like an omen.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Come on, you know the drill,” Chris instructed, clapping his hands together to get you to move. “Four sets of jump rope, three minutes each, and for your one-minute breaks in between, push-ups.”

“And don’t forget to use your vitae!” he yelled over once more.

That was just the warm-up. You groaned, stretching out your limbs as you pushed yourself up from the floor to grab the skipping rope disgruntledly.

“Hey, winners never quit and quitters never win,” he advised before setting the timed alarms on his watch.

It took every ounce of effort not to roll your eyes at his clichéd motivational quote. At least you could see the progress you were making relatively quickly. Your feet went through the motions, your muscle memory intact as you began with a basic bounce, working your way into side straddles, hip twists and then alternating single leg jumps. You were light and nimble in your steps, just like you had to be when you got into your fight stance. It was like Mr. Miyagi’s teaching technique with “wax on, wax off.”

A beep sounded. You tossed the rope to the side and dropped into a plank position, channeling your energy through your flattened palms as you performed controlled, repetitive push-ups. Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead, dampening the dusty ground. Your hands and fingernails were caked with dirt.

Another beep, and you sprung up, huffing as you took the rope and continued with high knee jumps. Your heart was pounding against its cage, and you felt like you wanted to die from exhaustion, but you pushed on. At some point, you broke through an invisible wall, and your body accepted the strain, no longer fighting against it. It was then where you had the headspace to think.

The past days you had free were spent mostly with the Anarchs, so much so that you felt more aligned with them than the Camarilla. You wondered if they secretly knew and were spying on you all this while, ready to dole out your punishment when it was time to face the consequences. For some odd reason, you had a hunch that someone had been watching you recently, but every time you tried to suss out the culprit, they had vanished from sight.

Despite favoring Anarch company, the insight you’d gained into their practices made you realize that they still had the same bullshit hierarchies and politics like the Camarilla, just a little flatter and more equal on the surface. It wasn’t perfect, but it seemed like the lesser of two evils to you.

Beep. Guess it was back to push-ups. Your sweat had begun to form a puddle beneath you and it stung your eyes. Halfway there, you told yourself. Not much longer to go. You’d talked to Chris and Claire about Leon, asking them how he was like when he still hung out with them, during the time he was somewhat a part of the sect. They’d told you many stories of his bravery and courage, putting others first before himself, but also how entangled he was in the mysterious deals he had with Ada and the rest of the Camarilla. It seemed as if he had no way out of them.

“Why?” you’d asked.

“If this is the world he’s been exposed to, how would he know any different until someone or something challenges it?” Claire had proposed.

“His sire, Ada, is a…” Chris paused to consider his words before settling on “transactional woman.” He shrugged. “She probably taught him deals like that are inevitable.”

The same advice as she had tried to impart to you. If someone who was deemed as your superior repeated these teachings again and again, at some point, they could become the truth.

“We’re not excusing Leon for what he’s done,” Claire was quick to correct him. “Just trying to explain it in context.”

Beep. “Speed up!” Chris shouted, and you knew that he wanted you to train your Celerity. Faster than a blink, you took up the rope and completed the routine as swift as lightning. The rest of the sets went by in a blur as you thought about one person only — Leon.

The blue of his eyes, the color of the sea, changing into gold. It reminded you of the Mediterranean, back during one of your travels. The light of the sun glittering on the water’s surface, shifting into the sand dunes of the desert. You felt his presence then; faint, sorrowful and alone, just as he felt yours. A ghostly hand reached out, and you lost your balance, tripping on the rope and landing flat on your face.

“Better luck next time, kid,” Chris grunted, helping you up by your arm, as you wiped away the blood from the graze on your knee.

Leon. You had a sudden urge to speak with him after behaving like strangers since your falling out. As much as you told yourself it was to reconcile and meet Rebecca as a united front, you’d be lying if you insisted there wasn’t something more. Want and longing, like an empty glass discarded in the sink. You’ll talk with him tonight, you determined. However, fate had other plans for you first.

You were shadowboxing in the gym’s ring while Chris barked out directions from the sidelines. At some point, you noticed the expression on his face darken and his body stiffen. He started making his way over to you with an instinctive sense of protectiveness.

An imposing silhouette loomed over you and you stopped abruptly, spinning around to face a tall, robust man with long, unkempt graying hair. He wore a wide-brimmed fedora hat and a beige trench coat over his attire. Round wire-framed glasses covered his eyes but did nothing to hide the bold smile across his face. He scratched at his rugged beard before taking a long drag from his fat cigar.

“Well, well, sugar. How nice of you to visit,” he remarked, puffing out a waft of smoke as he released the cigar from his mouth, planting it between his thumb and index finger.

“Baron,” Chris greeted. He was standing beside you now, tersely grasping your shoulder, suggesting caution.

In his other hand, the man held a metallic cane, rigid and bladed at the sides, its handle adorned with a carved horse figure. The cane clinked every time it touched the ground as he walked towards you, seemingly heavier than it looked. He didn’t lean or rely on it like he had an injury, merely tapping it lightly with each step forward. When you focused closer on the mechanical contraptions, you could tell that it concealed a secondary weapon of sorts.

“Oh, no need for formalities.” He waved his hand dismissively. “We’re all comrades here.”

With a courteous bow, he tipped his hat at you, acknowledging your presence. “Heisenberg,” he proffered, stubbing out the cigar with his boot as he extended his gloved hand to you.

Despite the unsettling atmosphere, you took his hand and shook it firmly like you always do. Might as well fake it until you make it. He raised his eyebrows, grinning at you like a maniac, nodding in appreciation at your dauntlessness.

“So, sugar, how do you like what you see so far?” He raised his hands, rotating in a slow, deliberate circle, as he gestured to the surroundings and the Kindred who’d quietened down since his arrival.

“It’s nice,” you answered flatly, keeping your responses vague and to a minimum until you could better ascertain what he wanted from you.

“I always knew you’d belong to us.” Though with the way he said ‘us’, it sounded more like ‘me’. You caught a glimpse of recognition in Chris’ eye and your suspicions about the man in front of you were confirmed with his next sentence.

“Too bad that Toreador dickhead had to ruin my plans,” he sneered. Clamping his hand on your shoulder dramatically, he continued, “This has been a real party and all, but why don’t you come back to our base? Make yourself at home?”

Heisenberg was the suitor. The one who wanted to use you for his own gain and power. He made your skin crawl.

“Baron—” you saw Chris attempt to plead your case only to be cut off by him.

“Dammit, Chris, I swear to god!” he bellowed, slamming his cane so violently on the ground that you were afraid it would break. Then, in a complete switch, he became almost dainty, whispering with a light flourish, “For the last time… it’s Heisenberg.”

The man was unhinged. You didn’t know who was worse: Wesker or Heisenberg. But you needed to get the fuck out of there.

“Maybe another time,” you proposed, backing away, though that only caused his grip on you to tighten. “I really should get going.”

“Why? What’s the hurry?” he questioned in an odd sing-song before mockingly commenting, “Will your sire be worried?”

“Heisenberg.” The unmistakable voice of the man in question resonated throughout the room, penetrating the dense silence. You heaved a sigh of relief, never having been happier to hear it.

The Baron finally released you, but not without mumbling in your ear, “This isn’t over yet.”

“Oh, Leon!” he greeted in a sickeningly sweet tone. “We were just talking about you! Always the thorn in my side, huh?” He laughed at his own joke, but no one else joined in.

It didn't take long for Leon to catch up to where you were standing, positioning himself between you and Heisenberg. His steely countenance peered down at you briefly before he looked back at the Baron. From behind, you saw Claire slowly walking over to join her brother.

“You heard the lady,” Leon stated. “She wishes to leave.”

At this, there was a fleeting tick in Heisenberg’s cheek, his smile faltering as his lips twitched ever so slightly, betraying his obvious irritation at Leon’s words. Suddenly, there was a loud swish and an electric crack in the air, as the cane he was carrying turned into a whip, which he lashed across the ground. It landed mere centimeters away from Leon’s face, but he didn’t even flinch, staring Heisenberg down with a cold glare.

“Think you’re real tough, don’t you, boy?” Heisenberg spat.

However, Leon remained as calm and elegant as ever. You wondered how many times he’d practiced for this very moment. Motioning to you, he mentioned, “Correct me if I’m wrong, Heisenberg, but my childe here still remains part of the Camarilla.” Turning back to face the Baron, he delivered his final line like an arrow hitting its mark, “And if it comes to it, we will protect our own.”

For a split second, Heisenberg was stumped, but masked it with a ridiculing chuckle. “Is that a threat?” Without waiting for Leon to answer, he offered his hand to you. “Last chance, sugar.”

You ignored it, making your decision to take Leon’s instead, interlacing your fingers with his as you squeezed his palm. He squeezed back and smiled weakly.

“Your funeral,” Heisenberg huffed, disappointment and wounded pride clearly marking his face.

Together, you exited the gym hand-in-hand, narrowly escaping Heisenberg’s wrath unscathed, while numerous pairs of eyes watched you from the sides.

━━━━━━━━━━━

After the chivalrous display Leon had put on in your previous encounter with the Baron, you didn’t expect such a severe scolding from him the minute you stepped into his apartment.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was back there?” he berated. “You’re being too reckless hanging out so openly with the Anarchs!”

A mixture of hurt and confusion flashed across your face as you shot back, “Yeah? Maybe you should take a good look at yourself in the mirror, Leon, considering that you used to be one of them!”

“Who told you that?” he snapped, backing you into a corner of the room. “Was it Chris—? No, Claire?”

You shoved him off roughly, shouting, “You have no right to judge! What have you been doing this whole time, huh? Fuck all!”

He looked away from you in embarrassment before turning back with a blazing fire in his eyes, his mouth writhing with manic fury. “I’ve been watching you, making sure you were safe, and you think I’ve done nothing?!”

You let out a harsh, hollow laugh in his face. “So, it was you? Stalking me like a fucking creep!”

He ground his teeth, jaw clenching so hard that you could see his muscles straining under the effort. “I don’t want to be ordered by the Prince to destroy you.”

“What did you say?!” you blurted out in bewilderment, grabbing his collar and slamming him into a nearby wall. Visible cracks emerged behind him along the plaster, spreading like spiderwebs. He whimpered in pain, but you continued pressing him in. “Are you threatening me?” you asked, your voice laced with grief and betrayal.

“No, never— I would never do that to you.” It came out like a cracked whisper. “If you step out of line, he will ask me to. But I would much rather be destroyed in your place,” he admitted.

So, was that why he kept trying to ‘control’ you? You were overcome with a sudden onslaught of emotions, and you didn’t know what to trust anymore.

“Liar!” you screamed, an insurmountable rage surging through your blood as you hurled him against a glass coffee table. It smashed into smithereens, and he struggled to get up as the shards nicked his hands and body. Blood spilled onto the floor like a murder scene.

You bolted over, still overcome with frenzied anger, as you pinned him to the ground, pummeling his face while yelling, “I hate you! I fucking hate your guts! What you did to me, what you did to Sherry! You fucking monster! I wish you were d—”

You paused, realizing what you were about to utter and knowing that deep down that you didn’t mean anything you had just said. But the damage was already done. A pang of guilt seeped into your chest and it convulsed as you choked out uneven sobs. Your hands were trembling and covered in scarlet red, and your breath hitched as you peered at Leon’s bloodied and bruised face. He’d been cut up real bad, his nose was broken and his cheeks were puffed up like a balloon. However, he didn’t fight back, accepting every punch and insult you threw at him, like he deserved it.

“Do it,” he croaked, blood dribbling down the sides of his mouth. It almost seemed as if he wanted you to put him out of his misery.

“No, no, no, I—” You shook your head furiously, staring at your reddened palms and started crying.

Your head fell forwards onto his chest, weeping into his stark white shirt, now ruined with blood and tears. A hand came to rest on your back, rubbing it reassuringly in circles, while the other carded through your hair. Even though he was the one suffering, he still took upon himself to comfort you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” you repeated like a prayer, but he hushed you gently.

It was then that you gave in. You’d seen who he was laid bare entirely before you. A monster with his skeletons exposed, and yet, you loved him. You loved him so much your heart would burst.

Holding him close, you moved him away from the broken glass and onto the rug — a new replacement for the one you had bled out on. You touched his face delicately with your fingertips; it was wet and sticky. Why wasn’t he mending himself? You wanted to kiss away his wounds and the pain. He stayed still, eyeing you curiously, waiting to see what you would do. A small gasp fell from his lips as you took your fingers into your mouth, tasting him whole. It was divine, just as you remembered, like figs and honey, and you had the insatiable desire for more.

“I want you, Leon,” you breathed. “Every part of you.”

At this, he drew in, taking your lips with his own urgently. You kissed back, matching it with a similar level of desperation, like both of you were famished. Parting your lips, you allowed his tongue to slip in to caress yours, swirling against it tantalizingly, as blood and saliva dripped from his mouth into yours. You lapped it up ardently, as though you didn’t want to waste a single drop.

The nuances of his taste became clearer. A hint of leather, oak and spice, and at times, subtle notes of vanilla and whiskey, making you feel as if you were a sommelier. Perhaps these were the flavors he had enjoyed when living. Fire coursed through your veins as you straddled him, pressing your scorching body against his. He groaned at the contact, bucking his hips into yours feverishly.

Both of you continued in the same rhythm, moaning each time his erection rubbed against your pelvis. Giddy and heady from the high, you clawed at his shirt, clumsily tearing through the fabric and sending its buttons flying across the room. He responded in kind, ripping open the clothes you’d been wearing, unable to wait any longer.

His heated gaze dragged along your naked body, admiring it in reverence, as if you were a goddess that he worshiped the very ground you stood on. Planting wet, open-mouthed kisses from your neck to your breast, he murmured, “I need you, angel.” His hot breath fanning against your skin, causing you to shudder in delight. “Please, let me taste you.”

“Anything you want,” you rasped, tangling your hands in his hair. “I’m all yours.”

A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, so unlike him that you wondered if you had awakened the sleeping Beast with your words. He took his time, cupping your breasts in his hands as his tongue flicked over one nipple and then the other. Latching onto it with his mouth, he suckled it, increasing the pressure as you twitched in response. You surrendered yourself entirely to him, allowing him to do as he pleased with your body.

He held your gaze as you watched his teeth sink in, puncturing the soft flesh of your breast. The sharp, prickly sting turned into that euphoric thrill you’d subconsciously craved for ever since the first time he’d tasted you. He drank from you a little before leaving the site, grazing your skin with his searing lips they traveled downwards. The first mark was left open and bleeding, just like the rest of the marks he would make. It was his way of showing the world that he had claimed you. You would let him devour you if you could.

His mouth paused at the side of your ribs and he made his second mark, the sensitivity of the spot causing your body to jerk suddenly, but he grasped the fat of your hips, holding you down as you whined. Blood flowed from the wound as if you’d been pierced in the side by a lance, and yet you begged, “More, please, more…”

The final mark he made on you in this round came when he reached your pussy, aching and sore for his touch. He licked your clit eagerly, sealing his lips around it as his fingers brushed against your folds, teasing the entrance before slipping in easily. Moans spewed out from your mouth as he continued sucking hard on your clit and curling his fingers against your spongy walls. At some point, he replaced them with his tongue, dipping and thrusting hungrily into your slit. His fingers glistened with your arousal all the way up to his knuckles, and you brought them into your mouth, soaking in the intoxicating aroma of sweat, lust and love. He hummed, taking the opportunity to bite into your mound, filling himself up with more of your essence as you threw your head back and gasped his name.

Coming up for breath, he peered at you beneath him. The carmine traces coating his lips like red-stained roses, and the scent and taste of your blood lingered in his very soul. He’d seen three separate memories of you with every mark, each more personal than the last, but no less beautiful. You looked truly holy like this, with your blissed out face and blown out eyes, your lips flushed and swollen. A moist sheen covered your body and your breasts quivered from your ragged breathing. He loved how he could do this to you. If he could, he would crown you as his sweet Mary, Isis, Ishtar, or any other form the saint and deity came in, bathing you in swathes of Marian blue and gold, and laying jewels at your feet. As the sanguine fluid trickled down your cunt like a virgin’s first time, he realized that for once, you were his, and solely his.

His wounds healed up in the process, good as new again, but you reached out, teary-eyed, cradling his face in your hands as you pressed your foreheads together. You never wanted to hurt him, and he never wanted to hurt you either. However, the pain still remained, like heavy stones crushing against your chest. He had already forgiven you, kissing you tenderly and stroking your cheek until you pulled away abruptly.

“Fuck me,” you sighed, like a thin wisp of smoke drifting into his waiting mouth. “Fuck me right here on the floor.”

The same floor where your life had drained away into the ether, the same floor where he had made that fateful decision to Embrace you, and the same floor where both of you had envisioned this very moment before it even happened. You needed him to fuck you rough and fast, just so you could forget and engrave this memory in your heart simultaneously.

He heard it in your voice and understood, obliging as he peeled off the rest of his clothes, pushing you forward onto the ground, so that your front lay flat against its laminated surface. You felt him guide the tip of his cock against your pussy, smearing precum along your folds before burying himself to the hilt. He didn’t hesitate or hold back, pounding into you vigorously from behind without giving you the chance to adjust to his size. You mewled in agonizing pleasure as he grasped your ass, spreading it apart so he could penetrate deeper. Your skin rubbed raw against the hard floor, bones bruising against wood as you scratched scars into its layers.

With every sharp thrust your body jolted forwards, his balls slapping against your skin as he gritted out, “Fuck, angel, you just take it so well.”

“How much have you wanted me like this?” you asked impulsively, your voice strained as you rutted back into him in sync with his unrelenting pace, feeling the head of his cock hitting your cervix.

His dick throbbed at your question. A hand came up and pushed your head down, squishing your face into the floor. “God, I— think about bending you over and making you scream—” he panted. His tone turned feral and inhuman like you’d never heard before as he slammed his hips against your ass to punctuate each word, “Every. Fucking. Night.”

Screams tore from your throat until your voice became hoarse, and scalding tears gathered at your waterline before splashing onto the ground. Yet, something savage and animalistic, akin to what he had shown earlier, emerged from the depths of your chest. “Leon, please,” you keened. “Fuck me harder.”

Wrapping his arm around your neck, he leaned forward, placing his full body on top of you so that his chest was pressed flush against your back. Rocking his hips into yours, he fucked you so deep that you felt him in your ribcage. Instinctively, you plunged your fangs into his arm, breaking skin, as he hissed a string of curses before doing the same, clamping down on your neck. You drank from each other, consuming and mixing vitae as he continued pistoning into your cunt. Veins protruded from your neck and your eyes turned bloodshot, rolling back into your head. The excruciating euphoria you’d experienced from your Embrace returned, flooding your senses, and the visions began.

You saw the human life he’d led: a first and last date at the drive-in cinema where he’d fumbled with a cute girl, the all-nighters he’d pulled cramming for exams, his glasses sliding down the slope of his nose as he nodded off to sleep. Then came glimpses of his life and unlife with Ada: how they’d fallen in and out of love, the way he’d been brought to his highest highs and reduced to his lowest lows. You felt for him in those moments, wanting nothing more than for his happiness to shine through, even at the expense of your own.

The images blended together like a watercolor painting, and you smelled the sand and sea. Two figures skinny-dipping, copulating by the waters, and again in the middle of a sandstorm. Your bodies melded into one and you were drawn back into your sweet release, both of you crying each other’s name on your lips. His hips stuttered, stuffing spurts of his cum into your cunt, the excess leaking between your thighs.

You stayed like this for an eternity before he pulled out, turning you around to face him as you lay side by side. He nuzzled your neck, kissing you affectionately. Blood caked your faces and streamed down your bodies.

“Messy drinker,” he chided softly, though his eyes were loving and warm. He licked all around your mouth, cleaning up the vermilion stains.

“I learned from the best,” you retorted, smirking as you caressed his jawline.

He scoffed, kissing your temple as he nestled you into his arms — a perfect fit. “You know I’m never letting you go after this?”

“Didn’t plan on leaving anyway,” you murmured into his chest, feeling his smile widen against your cheek.

I love you. He didn’t need to hear your confession to know that you meant every single word.

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porcelainseashore · 5 months ago

Text

Into the Ether (13)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Author's Note: Suggestive themes ahead. I’m vacationing for a few weeks, so the next update will be on 24th July!

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer @delulusimps ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 13: Hunting for Witches

A cool hand lay against your cheek, brushing away the loose strands of hair that had fallen across your face in your sleep. Rousing from your slumber, you snuggled up against Leon’s naked body in bed. It was cold as death, but you didn’t mind. Gradually, warmth radiated between the two of you like an exchange, almost on autopilot, as you transformed into something more human.

His cerulean eyes greeted you, crinkling at the sides as you pressed into his lips, sucking on the bottom sensuously, coaxing a soft moan from his throat. He took this as an invitation to pull you into his lap before pinning you underneath him, his mouth and tongue exploring every part of you that you had to offer. From your neck, your chest, to your stomach, he feasted on you, savoring your body and leaving a trail of electrifying kisses in its wake, just as he had done a thousand times the night before.

The apartment was still semi-trashed back then, but that didn’t stop you and Leon from continuing where you left off after the first round. On the couch, over the kitchen counter, on top of his desk, against a pillar, along the stairs, and finally, in bed. Sometimes you rode him, your breasts bouncing as he embedded his fangs into them, causing you to tug at his hair and cry out in wild ecstasy. Other times he flipped you over, thrusting into you as he held your hair, your wrists, or lifted your hips to stimulate you from different angles. You returned the favor in each position, digging your teeth into his shoulders or wherever you could have him. He groaned, gratuitously taking the Lord’s name in vain, his face contorting in delirious rapture. The Beast rattled the bars of your cage, its demands ever-present at the back of your mind, but you couldn’t care less, at least for the night. In the end, you were spent, laying on the crumpled sheets covered in blood, sweat and cum.

And now, here you were, reliving the memories of yesternight as you rocked against his hips like you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Mmm… angel,” he sighed lusciously into the shell of your ear, cheek-to-cheek, with your arms thrown around each other, and his gold cross necklace swinging and touching your skin. “You feel so good like this.”

“Can’t believe you’re all mine,” he whispered under his breath, grinding into you deeper.

Sex with him in this moment felt nice and pleasant, like being enveloped in a warm, cozy blanket, but the sensations were muted. Something was missing, and you yearned for more.

“Wanna feel even better?” you teased playfully, extending your canines as you moved your mouth towards his chest.

However, to your surprise, he stopped you gently, cupping the base of your neck with his hand, and breaking you out of the stupor of your lovemaking. “No, wait—” His eyes sparked with worry. “We shouldn’t do this.”

Your face was marred by confusion. “Huh, why?” you sputtered, racking your brain as to what you might have done wrong. “Our appointment with Rebecca isn’t until later in the night.”

He smiled melancholically at you, rubbing your neck tenderly as he kissed you. “I can’t let you be blood bonded to me,” he explained. “You’ll end up becoming my thrall if you drink from me so often. It only takes three nights over the course of a year, and then you’re hooked.”

You bit your lip, attempting to negotiate further, “But wouldn’t this only be our second time?”

Twirling your hair with his fingers, he emitted a quiet laugh and shook his head sadly. “You’ve already drunk from me twice. The first was when I Embraced you.”

You slumped back in dejection, letting out a heavy sigh.

He continued to caress you in devotion, as if to compensate for the disappointment. “You’re already showing signs of being attached to me,” he warned, noting your reaction to the news he had just delivered. “It’s too risky.”

Framing your face with his hands, he professed, “I love you with all my heart. And I will never, ever, take advantage of you like that.”

Even though the addictive desire still burned fiercely within you, there was an understanding that he was essentially looking out for your wellbeing, as opposed to his own selfish needs. Yet, you wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.

“What was it like… with Ada?” It puzzled you that merely uttering her name ignited a spark of jealousy within you. Was this one of the effects that Leon had talked about rearing its ugly head?

He shot you a grimace, his jaw clenching for a split second, but then he confided, “It was like being in a foggy dream. Sometimes it seemed as if my mind wasn’t my own. All I wanted to do was to please her; I lived for her praise, and even so, I was never worthy of her. When she was upset, I felt like I wanted to die.”

As he shifted himself in your arms, you held him like fragile glass. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved her before any of this happened. But with the bond, I wasn’t my own person, and that’s… not love.”

Pursing your lips, you accepted his answer. The words ‘abusive’ and ‘dysfunctional’ came up — terms you had been familiar with at some point and would rather forget. You imagined a couple in the most toxic, codependent relationship possible, ruled by jealousy and obsession. He never wanted that for you; your free will in whatever you had together mattered more to him than anything else.

Your hand flew to his, grasping it in appreciation as his lips met yours again. Settling into a cuddle, another topic crossed your mind.

“When I bit you, I saw things in your past, images of you like you were a ghost,” you confessed, your fingers tracing lazy figure eights along his chest.

“I know,” he replied, his eyes regarding you serenely. “I saw yours too.”

You inhaled sharply, anxious that he’d glimpsed into some of your most private memories.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he reassured you, running his fingers through your tousled tresses. “It reminded me of being human again.”

“Do you think it means anything?” you wondered.

“Perhaps an anomaly in the blood. I’m not an expert on this though, the Tremere are,” he offered, mildly frowning in thought. “I had planned to ask Rebecca about it too, if she’s willing to help.”

He peered at you as though something had struck him. “Do you mind?”

You beamed fondly at him, nudging your nose against his. He was seeking your permission. “No, go ahead. I’d like to find out for myself too.”

“I wanted to ask you—” he paused, deliberating on his next statement before he spoke. “Who was the one who broke your heart?”

Your lips curled into a bitter smile as you dodged his question with a joke, “Why? You’re gonna kill him for me?”

“Just say the word,” he quipped back, winking as he planted a quick kiss on the back of your hand.

Light laughter filled the room until it became silent again. “Someone who wanted to control me,” you mentioned casually with a shrug, trying to downplay its significance. It was a long time ago, but the experience still left a sour taste in your mouth. “I couldn’t question him; everything I did was wrong, and he was always right. When I wouldn’t give up everything for him, he left.”

Leon reflected on what you had said, noticing certain parallels between the guy’s behavior and his own. But unlike him, Leon wanted you as you were, not a puppet to be contained and gift wrapped in a box for his own enjoyment. You would always have a say in this relationship, and if the time came where you wanted to go, he was prepared to honor that.

Gazing resolutely at you, he concluded, “I would very much like us to be equals.”

Your eyes found his, connecting, searching, and feeling, as respect and adoration blossomed in your chest.

“So, no bonds, no more sire and childe bullshit?” you murmured, encircling your arms around his neck.

“Yes,” he breathed before sealing the pact with a kiss.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Shame that we can’t call housekeeping,” you jested while helping Leon sweep up and vacuum the remaining pieces of broken glass from the floor.

“Thought you didn’t like being treated like a princess,” he smirked, loading up the laundry machine with stained and bloodied sheets. Emptying the rest of the detergent into the compartment, he pressed the cold wash button. Maybe he’d even need to bleach them afterwards.

Both of you had taken a much-needed shower earlier, rubbing soap off each other’s backs and grooming yourselves to an acceptable standard. Settling into your newly evolved relationship still took some time. You’d eyed each other bashfully under the running water, as if you hadn’t already been fucked within an inch of your unlife by the man before you.

When the final chores had been completed, you and Leon made your way over to the Spencer Mansion again. This time, you were greeted by the Tremere Primogen instead.

“Good evening.” She beckoned the two of you to follow her as she slipped into the shadows, heading towards the basement level of the compound.

“We’ve been busy dealing with an organizational restructuring, so unfortunately, we could not entertain you earlier,” she briefed as you descended with her into an underground tomb, which then led out into a grandiose courtyard. Thankfully, there were no weird sensorial perceptions or flashes of nefarious undertakings.

“As you can see, Mr. Arias has been relieved of his position, and we’re currently in the process of securing a suitable replacement,” she explained as you entered a hidden tunnel on the other side of a waterfall.

“So he’s still around?” you quizzed, wondering if you’d need to watch your back if you ever accidentally bumped into him in the future. He didn’t seem like the type who would take kindly to supposed traitors.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She turned back and flashed a wily, cunning smile. “Don’t worry, you won’t be seeing him anytime soon. He’s been put to other uses… that are more befitting.”

You didn’t want to imagine what had happened to him, but it was certainly a fate worse than death. Leon intertwined his fingers with yours, giving you a look of reassurance, as if to say, “We did the right thing.”

“Oh, you Toreadors,” the Tremere Primogen teased, her eagle eye picking up on even the most discreet actions. “How romantic.”

Your face burned with embarrassment, and you were about to tug your hand away when Leon held onto it firmly, unafraid to show his affection for you publicly.

The network of tunnels you went through were convoluted and winding, though the woman in front of you navigated them with ease. Torches along the walls ignited with blue flames as you passed, bathing the area in an enigmatic, mystical luminescence. Finally, you reached a metallic door which opened up into an underground vault.

“Welcome to Arklay Laboratory,” your guide said, gesturing around the room. It was lined with rows of incubation and cryogenic tanks, all fitted with state-of-the-art control panels. Various specimens in petri dishes fought for space alongside the computers and monitors set up to analyze them.

At the far end of the room was a young, petite woman with a brown pixie bob cut, wearing a lab coat. Repositioning her black, rectangular-framed glasses higher on her nose, she leaned in to take a closer look at various 3D diagrams on her screen. Her radiant blue eyes perked up as she enthusiastically scribbled something down on her clipboard.

As you waltzed over, she directed her attention towards you, her lips curving into a bright, cheerful smile.

“Rebecca,” she announced, sticking her hand out in warm welcome.

After a round of introductions, the Tremere Primogen took her leave, indicating that she would be back within the hour.

Sipping her drink from a takeaway coffee cup, Rebecca closed her eyes, pausing to let the flavors unfold on her tongue before nodding in appreciation.

“My concoction.” She extended it like an invitation to you. “Wanna try it?”

Leon looked extremely hesitant, but seemed to hold himself back to allow you to make your own decision.

“What kind of blood?” you questioned warily.

“Secret recipe.” She shrugged with a wink.

After a while of staring at her in suspicion with no answer, she gave in. “Alright, alright! It’s part of the Prince’s pet project, or at least one of them. I test and refine his herd purity and suitability, and then play bartender to find the perfect match for his tastes.”

The Prince’s herd. A bunch of humans who agreed to let Wesker feed on them. They were most likely addicted to ‘the Kiss’, which was another word for a vampire’s bite.

“Imagine a cocktail like, um, Bloody Mary!” she exclaimed, giggling at her own pun. “Get it? Right, well, take a shot!”

Gingerly, you brought the cup to your lips, ignoring the peach pink lipstick stain at the rim as you sampled the shimmering liquid. The flavor was rich and complex, and the more you tried to dissect it, the more notes you got.

“Mmm, not bad,” you remarked, impressed with her mixology skills as you handed the cup back to her.

Leon still refused the offer. “Someone’s gotta stay sober,” he rationalized, passing it off as one of his many quips.

“Ah hah, so you’re the designated driver!” Rebecca laughed, playing along to erase any remaining tension. “Anyway, you came to see me about memory stuff?”

“Yeah, the attacks,” he concurred. “The culprits had their memories wiped, but we need them back.”

Tilting her head, she curled her fingers under her chin and scrunched up her face, deep in thought. “No can do,” she finally replied, still maintaining a jovial tone despite the seriousness of the subject matter.

“Wait, what?” he coughed out. It was hard to tell whether he was astonished or seething, maybe a mixture of both.

“You’re talking about someone who probably used Forgetful Mind and Mass Manipulation to rewrite someone’s memories. Once they’re gone, they’re gone, buddy! Nada, zero,” she emphasized.

“So, you’re saying there’s no way of retrieving them? Like, at all?” you pressed, sensing that Leon was reaching his breaking point.

Humming to herself, she assumed her thinker’s pose once again. “Well, I suppose…” she paused, squinting at the two of you. “Do you have them on video? I need to see them with my own eyes.”

At this, Leon stepped forward, pulling out a battered, ancient-looking laptop from his satchel before setting it on her desk. Switching it on, he plugged in the thumb drive Hunnigan had given him and opened one of the files.

“These are the interrogation videos of the remaining three in custody.”

Rebecca scooted closer to the screen, cranked up the volume to the max, and scrutinized every single detail of the culprits’ expressions. You turned away, not wanting to witness such brutality again, though there was nothing you could do about their screams.

“This one!” She jabbed excitedly at the screen. “Look at his gait and the way he’s slurring!”

“Could you translate that into lay-Kindred’s terms?” he asked, a perplexed expression brewing across his face.

“All is not lost, we may have found our guy!” she stated, unable to contain her elation at the discovery. “His behavior is showing that something still lingers in that mind of his, possibly because someone experimented with using both Dominate and Dementation together. And on top of that, with an entire group.”

“Hm, looks like they did a shit job of covering their tracks then,” he mused. “So, where do we go from here?”

“There’s two ways, but I highly recommend the latter,” she began, pacing around the room and waving her hands animatedly as she spoke. “Of course, you can always take the longer but safer route and coax the Kindred to recover his memories naturally through therapy and treatment. However, something tells me you don’t have the luxury of time.”

“We don’t,” Leon confirmed.

“Then this calls for the more adventurous method, but we only have one shot at it. Or rather, I only have one shot at it,” she clarified. “There’s a ritual I can perform on him to piece back his memories like a puzzle, but there’s a catch.”

Making a rolling motion with his hand, he urged her to elaborate.

“He won’t survive at the end of it.”

“No,” you protested immediately, moving towards Rebecca. Leon accompanied you, but again, he remained true to his word and made no effort to restrain you. “There has to be another way.”

She peered at you sympathetically, her brows furrowing in contemplation. “I wish there was, but this is all I know,” she sighed. “If it’s any consolation, his Final Death will be relatively quick and painless.”

Placing his hands on your shoulders, Leon caressed them comfortingly, his eyes meeting your worried gaze. “These Kindred are going to die a slow, torturous death by Jill otherwise. It’s not ideal, but what Rebecca is offering here sounds like the most humane option.”

A mercy killing. You were torn between what to do, though you appreciated that while Leon offered his opinion, he respected you enough not to impose it on you. Covering his hands with yours, you gave them a soft squeeze, bringing them together in front of you. You brushed your lips against his knuckles in silent gratitude before addressing Rebecca, “Can you tell me how it’s done?”

A subtle smile graced her lips as she observed the tenderness and care you shared for each other. “Sure, I’ll keep it short,” she promised. “The Kindred needs to be doused in a special flame that will also destroy him. It should be over in a second though, not like the actual agony of burning to death. Then, I’ll need to eat his ashes to regain his memories.”

“You mean, you’ll need to enter into Memoriam?” Leon suggested as uneasiness crept into him and his expression darkened. This could either be your golden ticket in the investigation or lead to a complete disaster.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I’ll be incapacitated then, sorting through and mending the guy’s past. Therefore, I’ll need someone to keep watch and escort me back to the present, so to speak.”

Pursing your lips, you realized that this was the best chance you and Leon had at uncovering the truth. It was also the easiest compromise you had to make at the start of your unlife, but there was no better alternative presented. Yet, if you could alleviate someone’s suffering, why wouldn’t you do that? you reflected, taking your time to weigh out the pros and cons before casting your final vote.

Glancing over at Leon and then Rebecca, you nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Before leaving, Leon made sure to follow up on the other topic that had been lingering on his mind. He had posited it as a theoretical question, wording his sentences carefully. What were the chances of experiencing each other's memories and even the future through the mutual drinking of blood?

However, Rebecca was no fool. She picked up on the hint right away. “Hmm, this is about you two, isn’t it?” she asked, despite already knowing the answer. Swiveling around on her office chair, she tapped the tip of her pen on her chin with a cheeky grin.

“Just answer the question, please,” he groaned.

“Talk about being a downer,” she huffed. “Anyway, that usually happens from diablerie, but since your auras are clean—”

“Hold on a sec,” you interrupted, frowning at a term you didn’t recognize. “Diablerie?”

“Yeah, when you literally eat another vampire,” she disclosed. “Like, drain them, steal their soul, that kinda thing.”

Raising a hand to her mouth, she whispered, “Also highly illegal!”

Leon cleared his throat, trying to get her back on track. He was determined to get an answer regardless. “Apart from that, no leads?”

“I may have heard of something similar,” she asserted, patting her thighs rhythmically. “But I’ll need to do more research on it. Very fascinating!”

Grabbing a sticky note, she wrote down an address and gave it to him. “I’m there most nights between three to four. If you want the report on my findings or need my help again after the ritual, we can meet. Saves having to go through Regents and whatnot.”

Taking a peek at the paper, you realized it was a location on the outskirts of Raccoon City, near Raccoon Bypass. Interesting. You wondered what she got up to there.

Leon appeared pleasantly surprised by her actions as he thanked her, stuffing the note, along with the laptop and thumb drive back into his satchel.

“By the way, I’d prefer if you kept the last part of our conversation to yourself,” he added.

“No problem, Detective!” she chirped, giving him her trademark thumbs-up sign.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s P.I. for you.”

“Yeah, whatever!” She waved him off with a blasé attitude. “See you tomorrow at Elysium.”

You stifled a snicker as Leon shot you a withering glare. Guess you’ll be in trouble later.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Why are you protecting them?” you asked after he’d told you about Claire’s findings.

Lying in Leon’s arms in bed, remnants of your kisses littered his body. Smeared lipstick on skin; you’d sucked hard, but not enough to bite. In turn, he’d grabbed you tight enough to bruise. Your presents to each other before dawn, and when nightfall came, these traces would disappear, reverting back to how you were, as if you’d never touched at all.

“The same reason you’re protecting Lucas,” he murmured into your hair, grazing his lips against the top of your head. “The Anarchs… they were my family.”

“Well, mostly the Redfields,” he corrected himself. “We’ve been through thick and thin together.”

You pulled him closer as he combed his fingers through your locks. “Then why did you leave?”

Sighing wearily, he paused, debating on how to proceed. “It was because of Sherry,” he divulged at last. “Wesker threatened to hurt her.”

"I tried to get her out of there, but she was too addicted,” he confessed, his voice cracking as the color drained from his face. “She didn’t want to go… and it’s all my fault.”

Too addicted to the Kiss. You’d been at Elysium twice by now, and seen a couple of these so-called ‘blood dolls’ scattered around with a docile, vacant look in their eyes, and that same haunting smile. They were like junkies waiting for their next fix, and there was usually a Kindred or two holding onto them possessively like predators who’d found their perfect meal. You shuddered at the thought.

It was true that Leon had been responsible for Sherry’s captivity. He was no saint, and neither was he pretending to be one. Like Patrick had said, what mattered to you was what Leon wanted to do next. He was trying to right his wrongs, and that had to stand for something.

Adjusting yourself to meet his eye level, you enveloped him in a comforting embrace, cradling his head against your chest. “However you plan to get her out of there, I will be right behind you.”

He peered up at your determined gaze without questioning it, feeling his adoration for you grow with each passing second. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to reverse the effects of the addiction, but it’s not so easy.”

“Do you think someone like Rebecca could help?”

“Maybe, but one step at a time. We need to get through tomorrow night first,” he cautioned. “I’d like to see her in action before I place any further trust in her.”

“Okay.” You nodded, letting him take the lead on this case. “As for the Anarchs, I won’t say a word.”

“Thank you.” He brought your hand to his lips, kissing it intimately as he buried his face deeper between your breasts, treating them like a pillow.

You chuckled softly, allowing the rise and fall of your chest to mimic his breathing. “Leon?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m not sure if they’re any better than the Camarilla,” you admitted. “Heisenberg’s kind of a creep—”

“He’s a dickhead,” came his muffled reply.

You burst out laughing. “That’s what he called you.”

Leon snorted, and it felt like he was blowing raspberries on your skin. You squealed at the ticklish sensation and wriggled about as he came up for air, grinning from ear to ear.

“Of course he did.” His mouth twisted into a slanted smile. “Prick.”

Both of you exchanged smirks as you toyed with his necklace, twisting it around your index finger. “I don’t know if I want to take sides anymore.”

At this, his expression grew serious. “I’ve often wondered the same thing, but it’s dangerous not to,” he warned.

You locked eyes with him. Blonde over blue; blue into gold, like water and sand spilling onto the sheets. “Wouldn’t it be worth it though?”

For a moment, he nearly said yes. Instead, he answered, “It’s a dream I wish I could share with you.”

“A dream that could become reality,” you argued.

How could he forget your stubbornness? He loved you all the more for it. Cupping your cheek in his hand, he conceded, “I’m not saying no, but we should get some rest.”

A wave of drowsiness crept over you and your eyelids felt heavier after being reminded of it. You were in that strange state of waking and sleeping, like being in the twilight zone. Yet, you struggled to remain conscious, your vision fading in and out as you slowly sank into the mattress.

Leon was struggling similarly, though he managed to make out a promise to you. “We’ll talk more about it, I won’t forget…”

With his final gasp, he touched your lips, barely whispering, “Sweet dreams… angel…”

And then his breathing stilled. His heart stopped, just like yours. Bodies cooled, but the bed warm.

77 notes · View notes

porcelainseashore · 6 months ago

Text

Into the Ether (9)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Author's Note: Implied child kidnapping ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 9: Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Another night, another part of the mystery to solve. But first, you had agreed to go into work. Nothing was going to stop you, not even the ‘Prince’s orders’. Something about having a nightly routine kept you sane and grounded you in reality. Not that what you were experiencing wasn’t real, but you didn’t want to lose touch with the living. You didn’t want to become like… Leon?

You heaved a disheartened sigh thinking about it. You’d been giving the man the silent treatment ever since returning from the Spencer Mansion, and you didn’t like it one bit. Hurting people wasn’t something you enjoyed — be it ignoring them out of spite or acting in a way that would lead to someone’s unfair demise. It didn’t help that you were constantly being reminded of how powerless and insignificant you were. Was this the best you could do when taking a stand? Or was there something more?

Working felt like walking. You went through the motions: socializing with your colleagues, pandering to customers, planning out the next month’s events program, making a couple of calls along the way, and your personal favorite — sorting out the cafe’s finances. Even the Redfields showed up, informing you and by extension, Leon, that they were still on the suitor’s case and would have something juicy for you soon.

“Do you ever miss the sun?” you wondered out loud.

It had barely been a week since you turned, but you were already bemoaning the fact that you wouldn’t be able to live to see it. Although the nights were longer now that the year had entered into its colder period, you had thought ahead, speculating how it would be like when summer returned again. That was depressing.

“Always,” Claire responded, patting your shoulder empathetically.

“Best not to think about it,” Chris chimed in, taking a swig from his beer bottle. “You’ll get used to it at some point, and besides, there’s always YouTube.”

“Very helpful, Chris,” his sister huffed in disdain, forcefully backhanding her brother so that he choked on a bit of his beer.

“What the fuck, sis?” he groaned, wiping the beer stains off his clothes with his bare hands in annoyance. “On my nice shirt as well.”

For some reason the constant bickering between the siblings caused you to double over in laughter and they looked at you in amusement. After you recovered from your giggling fit, you pointed to Chris' bottle, asking, “So you can do that thing of actually enjoying what you eat and drink?”

“Uh huh.”

“Maybe you can teach me?” you tested the waters. “Leon was supposed to, but—” You stopped yourself in your tracks, realizing that you’d have to share a lot more than you would be comfortable with.

Unfortunately, Claire was perceptive enough. “Trouble in Paradise?” she suggested, only to continue on her train of thought when you didn’t answer, “Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me. He may be a prick who needs a nudge in the right direction, but he’ll come around.”

She pressed her arm against the wall and leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “And I hate to say this, but he’s actually a good guy.”

The expression on your face must’ve given away how you felt when Claire had uttered those last words. She quickly peppered it with, “He must’ve screwed up pretty bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say it’s one screw up after the other,” you finally replied.

Chris gave a low chuckle, “Sounds like him alright.” He shrugged. “Can’t blame the guy for trying though.”

“Alright, I’ll let you in on something,” Claire began, only to be interrupted by her brother.

“Oh man, not again! Can’t ever keep your goddamn mouth shut, can you?” he scolded.

“Shut up, Chris! She’s cool with us, you know that,” she retorted and he conceded, though you could still hear him grumbling in the background.

Turning towards you triumphantly, she continued, “I’ll keep it short. He saved my brother's skin; I owed him a life boon, and Chris probably did too, but he turned it down in the end.”

“Yeah, said something about not wanting to take advantage,” Chris piped up, shaking his head in disbelief. “To this night, it still floors me.”

What they had said gave you some pause. It seemed as though Leon had a bunch of demons to confront, and there was always an internal battle waging. You just hadn’t been able to break through. But did you want to in the end? Or would you just leave him to rot in his own misdoings? You weren’t anyone’s savior and you didn’t want to be. You simply wanted to do what felt right to you.

“Guess there’s a lot more to him that I don’t know about,” you mused.

Chris’ wide palm met your back with a loud thump that reverberated across your chest. “Hey, chin up, kid. It’ll take a while, but you’ll get there. Us Brujahs don’t give up without a fight.” His brown eyes lit up and crinkled, fine lines of crow’s feet fanning out from the corners. “And no matter what anyone says, I still think you’re one at heart.”

“Brujah, huh? I like the sound of that.” A crooked smile played across your lips as you laid your cards out on the table. “I’ve heard you’re fierce fighters. Mind showing me a few tricks? Just so I know how to fend for myself.”

Chris stood taller, eyeing you with curiosity as a sense of pride visibly swelled in his chest.

“I could throw in a supply of beers on the house to sweeten the deal,” you added, pointing at the empty bottle he was clutching at his side.

He barked out a laugh before responding, “Well, now that you put it that way, you’ve got my hands tied.” Placing his bottle down on a table beside him, he agreed, “Sure, I’ll give you some tips, but a word of warning: I don’t go easy.”

The rest of your shift went by without event, until Leon dropped by to pick you up for the next meeting planned that night. Since neither of you had gotten any real leads on the case yet, he thought it best to visit the Bakers first before heading back to NEST, where the Primogens' offices were and where Jill would be waiting impatiently for answers.

In the jeep, the atmosphere was thick with tension, though along the way, he tried to cut through it with some advice. “I know you’re still upset and don’t want to talk, but I need to prepare you for this.”

He tapped on the steering wheel nervously. “As Malkavians, the Bakers all suffer from some form of affliction following their Embrace. In this case, they believe a little girl called Eveline is part of the family, except no one else can see her.”

“You mean she’s invisible?”

The car swerved off-center as Leon glanced over at you, startled by your response. It was the first time you had spoken to him in a while. You clung onto the grab handle and yelled, “Keep your fucking eyes on the road!”

“Shit, um, sorry!” He focused his attention back to his driving, quickly stabilizing the vehicle before he spoke up again. “And, uh, no. I mean, we don’t think she actually exists.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Okay, and is that going to be a problem?”

“Not if you pretend she does,” he stated plainly. “Otherwise, they’ll get really provoked if you don’t interact with Eveline.”

“Right, thanks for the heads up.” You nodded curtly. “Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah, well, uh, just be—”

“Careful. Got it,” you finished the sentence for him.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he emphasized. “These folks have always been rather isolated from the Camarilla. Last I heard, they don’t take kindly to strangers sticking their noses where they don’t belong. So, if all hell breaks loose in there, I want you to book it and run, alright?”

You frowned, shifting your gaze in his direction. If his intention was to allay your fears, he had done nothing but heighten them. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He flashed you a reassuring smile, but you could make out the hint of unease in the curl of his lips. “Take the car keys when we reach the place, so you have your escape route if needed.”

You let his words linger in the air as you kept quiet throughout the rest of the ride.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Reaching the outskirts of Raccoon City, you were traveling along Stone-Ville Road, where there was nothing but open land. The trees had been cleared from the forest, and multiple estuaries flowed from the Raccoon Dam. The area was sparsely populated, with only a smattering of houses spread out from each other in the distance. At some point, Leon made a left turn into a side road, heading towards a decrepit-looking estate that was slightly off the beaten track. It appeared to bear some similarities to the Spencer Mansion back in Arklay Forest, causing a spine-tingling shiver to sweep through your body.

“Designed by the same architect from the Trevor & Chamberlain fame,” Leon pointed out, seemingly able to read your mind.

“That guy from New York?” You remembered reading about him in magazine articles and the mystery of his disappearance as people mourned the loss of a genius.

“Yeah, so expect surrealist stuff, including puzzles and secret passageways,” he cautioned.

You balked at the thought of having to enter yet another labyrinth like the one at the Tremere Chantry.

“It’s just for a friendly chat,” he asserted, his calming blue gaze meeting yours. “I doubt there’s any need for us to explore the house, unless they make things difficult.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you muttered, tucking the car keys into your pocket as you stepped in front of a formidable, rusty gate.

It was unlocked, and as Leon pushed it open, it screeched on its hinges like a dead woman's wail, beckoning you towards the crumbling building before you, which was long past its heyday. The refurbished plantation house, where you assumed the Baker family lived, was part of a larger ranch estate, and it looked like something straight out of a slasher flick.

Leon pressed the doorbell, waiting to see if there was any sign of life. A light switched on, its mellow rays filtered through the window shades, and you heard hurried footsteps on the wooden floorboards until the door swung open. An older lady with her dark hair tied back in a loose ponytail peered at both of you in confusion. She wore a tattered, sweat-stained button-up blouse and a brown skirt. Her coarse and wrinkled skin still carried an unfaded tan, suggesting a life of manual labor, where she had tended to the animals and fields under the sweltering sun.

“Can I help you, miss, mister?” she asked in a heavy Southern drawl. “We weren’t expecting anyone at this time.”

“Ma’am,” he dipped his head politely in acknowledgement. “Sorry for intruding on you like this, but there wasn’t any other way to contact you.”

“Well, we don’t want no trouble, young man. Just mindin’ our own business, that’s all.” Shifting nervously from foot to foot, she fiddled with the hem of her cotton blouse, glancing over her shoulder every now and then at a blank space behind her.

Your attention was drawn to the area she kept looking at, and as you concentrated on it, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You had the strangest sense that someone was there, but you couldn’t make out any shape or figure, just an energy. An icy chill gripped your head, as if cold hands were feeling along the grooves of your brain. You shuddered, realizing that whoever it was knew that you were aware of its presence.

“We don’t want any trouble either,” Leon assured, raising his palms slightly to indicate a truce. “We just have some questions we could use your help on, regarding an attack a couple of nights ago.”

The woman still clutched onto the door apprehensively. “Why? Who sent you?”

“The Prince put us on the investigation,” he disclosed warily.

At that moment, a shadowy figure materialized behind the woman, taking a few seconds before you could make out his features in the dim light. He was an older man, around the same age as her, balding and wearing spectacles. Likewise, his yellow striped shirt and beige pants were worn and filthy, as though he hadn’t changed out of it for decades.

“Prince?” he questioned defensively, placing his hand on the small of the woman’s back. “What does the Prince want? We didn’t do nothing wrong, son.”

“No, you didn’t,” Leon agreed, quickly following up with an explanation to assuage the man. “We have the assailants in custody, but it appears they’ve been brainwashed and manipulated through Dementation — a skill that you’re well-versed in.”

The man eyed him like a hawk as Leon continued, treading on thin ice. “We thought we could use your expertise, and if you might’ve picked up on anything out of the ordinary in the vicinity.”

There was a pregnant pause before the man relented, “Fine, you got five minutes to ask us anything you wanna know, son.” Pushing the door wide open, he gestured for you to enter. “Come on in.”

As you stepped into the gloomy premises, he pointed at you, flashing a warning glance in your direction. “And no more snoopin’ around, young lady.”

Oh, right. You must’ve unwittingly activated one of your powers earlier to sense his presence, when he had relied on his Obfuscate Discipline to remain hidden. “Sorry, my bad,” you mumbled. “It was an accident.”

He nodded, turning around to make his way into the living room where a dining table was situated. “You girls can come out now,” he hollered.

You saw a younger woman with jagged, short hair emerge in a similar fashion to how the man did before, sitting at one of the chairs at the table. Despite that, you greeted two people as Leon had instructed, and he followed suit. A round of introductions followed, where you learnt that the older couple were Jack and Marguerite and their two daughters, Zoe and Eveline, with the latter being the youngest at ten years old.

Marguerite disappeared into the kitchen for a bit, only to return with a tray of crockery. She handed out cups to everyone and poured a red, viscous liquid from a teapot. Jack grumbled in the corner that it was meant to be a short meeting, but at the same time, couldn’t help but appreciate his wife’s hospitality. Bringing the cup to your nose, the liquid smelled musky, like earth, and you wondered where it came from.

“It’s the best I can offer at such last minute notice,” she apologized, wiping her hands on her blouse as she sat herself down. Twisting her head in the direction of the empty seat next to Zoe, she cooed, “But Evie likes it, don’t ya, sweetheart? That’s it, drink up now. Little piggy’s blood is good for you.”

You watched as the cup on the table remained motionless, while Marguerite bombarded the invisible entity with sweet words of encouragement. Trying to ease the awkwardness in such a situation, you took a mouthful of the liquid from your cup. It was the first time you tasted animal blood and as much as you hated to admit it, it was incredibly bland compared to human blood. Like a simple gruel versus a gourmet meal. Then again, neither could bagged blood beat the real thing, though you tried not to dwell on it. You smiled politely over at Zoe, who threw you a sympathetic look.

“You’re new, huh?” she asked shyly, cocking her head as she gazed at you.

“Mm hm, about a week.” You took another sip and pursed your lips, swallowing the liquid like a chore that had to be done.

“Ooh, a baby!” Marguerite interjected, suddenly interested in the conversation between you and Zoe. You imagined she was the social butterfly of the group. “Maybe Evie can show you a few tricks.”

At this, Leon rested his hand over your arm protectively, forcing a strained smile. “Perhaps another time? We really should get down to business.”

“Ah, city boys and their ‘business’,” Jack remarked, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. “Well, what can we do for ya?”

You heard Leon speak, but his voice seemed to drone on with the others, and out of nowhere you started to enter a tunnel vision. In your line of sight, you spotted a framed photo of the Baker family, though something was amiss. There was a young man in the picture you hadn’t met yet. He was thin and lanky, and had a hoodie on that obscured part of his face. Leaning back on the couch, he stared directly back at you with a bored look in his hollowed eyes.

It took you a while, but you managed to snap out of it, uttering the first thought that came to your mind, “Is that your son, mister?”

All at once, the mood in the room shifted, taking a dramatic turn for the worse. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on you as Jack ordered ominously, “Get the hell out.”

You opened your mouth in protest, but Leon beat you to it, rising up from his seat as he contended, “Look, she didn’t mean anything by it. We’re sorry, alright? Could we just—”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, boy!” Jack bellowed, his command resonating across the room.

Leon’s body grew rigid and he remained mute. Dread seeped into your bones as you observed the previous scene of peace and tranquility descend into an utter nightmare.

“Mama, Evie’s getting upset,” Zoe announced in a tiny voice.

“Argh! See what you’ve done now?” Marguerite shrieked as she stomped around the room in a temper tantrum. “This is your fault!” she accused, glaring at you and Leon.

“You barge into our house and threaten my family? This won’t do!” Jack shook his head menacingly as his eyes glowered. “I’m just gonna have to teach you a lesson.”

His eyes changed into an otherworldly shade and Marguerite joined him, speaking in tongues. They gazed at Leon as if engaged in a séance. However, Zoe remained separate from their antics, looking on in fright. You stood rooted to where you were, bracing for the worst, but nothing happened. It was only when you saw Leon sink to the ground on his knees, his face pale as a sheet, that you realized he was bearing the brunt of your transgression.

He was taken back to years ago, at the height of his blood bond, where he would do anything to win Ada’s affection. Her interest in him had begun to wane and he was sure she was seeing another lover. But this time, he would bring her the vessel that would change her mind about him and guarantee her everlasting love.

There he was, at that godforsaken group home, the one linked to the Catholic church he had frequented when he was still alive, and where he would sell his damned soul for a second time to the Devil. All it took was a flash of his police credentials and a charm or two from his arsenal of skills he had honed to entrance the nuns keeping watch over the children.

“Sherry, are you ready to go?” He extended a hand towards her.

This wasn’t his first rodeo. Ada and him had been noticing the little girl for a while, testing to see if she would be a worthy vessel for the Prince himself. After all, Ventrues were extremely fussy drinkers and Wesker expected a Michelin star meal every single time. The only thing stopping him from delivering the girl over was a vague sense of morality he still had within him. But he was desperate enough now to dash it to the ground for a chance at his sire’s approval again.

The girl had dressed into her school uniform, a hairband holding her blond tresses out of her face as she peered up excitedly at him. “Yes, let’s go!”

She would have done anything to get away from the home where she never slept well and felt alone despite being in a room full of kids around her age. Where Leon was taking her sounded like a glorious fairytale. A palace with a prince, she imagined, a place where she would be treated to all the luxuries her current life could never afford her.

“Oh god, no!” he cried out, doubling over on the grimy floor of the Baker House.

Sherry was haunting him again. Everywhere he looked, he saw multiple copies of her like a cracked mirror reflecting her ghost on its uneven surface. He heard layer upon layer of her laughter, jumbled and out of sync, mocking and taunting him. Paranoia sank in and he curled himself into a fetal position, pleading for no one in particular to forgive him.

“Sherry, please, we have to go!” he urged.

This was years later, when he had some sense knocked into him from the time he hung out with the Anarchs. He wanted to right his wrongs, and free the girl who was never meant to be trapped in the underworld in the first place.

But she had changed. She was older and wiser, and knew exactly what she wanted — it was definitely not to leave.

Yanking her hand back, she kicked her feet, stamping on the ground as she yelled, “No! I want to stay!”

He was shocked by her absolute conviction in remaining within the prison where she was held, like a pretty songbird for the rest of the Kindred to gawk at. “But…”

“You can’t make me!” she screamed, red in the face.

Rendered speechless, he didn’t know what else to do than stare at the crying child before him with his jaw hanging open. He thought he was saving her, like a knight in shining armor, but she didn’t need any saving. She was perfectly happy where she was.

“One day, I’ll get you out of there. I promise,” he babbled on repeatedly, reduced to nothing but a trembling mess before the Malkavians.

During the entire period when Leon appeared to be suffering from a mental breakdown, you were torn about what to do. He had told you to bolt the minute something like this took place, but you couldn’t leave him to fend for himself in this state. You didn’t understand what he was blabbering on about. Was Sherry his sister? Where was she? What happened to her?

A million thoughts raced through your mind, but you shut them down. You needed to pry Leon away from the family’s cold clutches and keep him safe. Mustering your courage, you approached the one who seemed to be the most reasonable of the lot. She still sat in her chair, gazing upon the scene with a vacant yet troubled expression.

“Zoe?” you called out softly, hoping it wouldn’t escalate the situation. “Please, we don’t mean any harm.”

Her eyes darted towards you.

“I know you’re just trying to protect your family,” you deduced, especially from the way they had been on edge the moment you stepped onto their property and inadvertently brought up one of their own.

“We need the information, but I swear to you we will keep whoever it is you’re trying to protect safe,” you promised.

Her breath hitched, and she looked at you with glassy eyes. In the background, you could hear Leon’s gut-wrenching whines of pain.

“Zoe, please!” you begged, your brows furrowing and tears on the verge of spilling from your eyes. You couldn’t bear to witness him in such agony any longer. It felt like your heart was shattering into pieces, though you couldn’t explain why.

“Eveline, stop,” her calm voice sliced through the air and the buzzing energy died down.

Her parents came out of their hypnotic state and Leon stopped shaking uncontrollably, though he backed himself into a corner in fear. You rushed to his side, holding him in your arms as you checked his eyes to see if he had fully returned to the present.

“You stayed…” he whispered, reaching out to touch your face, as though he was trying to ascertain if you were real.

In an instant, you pulled him into an embrace, rocking him gently as you stroked his hair. “You’re okay, Leon. You’re safe.”

After a while, he relaxed into your arms and his breathing returned to its normal tempo. The Bakers exchanged worried looks but said nothing as they gave him time to recover. Finally, Jack broke the silence. “I-I’m sorry about what happened there, son. Just been a lot going on these days.”

You turned around, deciding to take the reins as you spoke for the two of you, “I understand, and as I promised your daughter, we’ll make sure that, um—”

“Lucas,” Marguerite offered.

“—Lucas won’t get hurt.”

Jack nodded, taking off his glasses as he wiped the sweat off his brow. “You see, how we work is through what others call premonitions or clairvoyance, and all that mumbo-jumbo.”

Clearing his throat, he continued, “Well, lately we’ve been sensing a bunch of Sabbat activity in the city. Their symbols are everywhere, like little red hotspots across the center. They’re planning more of these attacks for sure, just heading down along the river.”

“Circular River?” you probed.

“Uh huh, the one closest to town,” he concurred. “And, uh, I’m guessing you were also here about the Cobweb?”

“Yeah.”

He swallowed anxiously as Marguerite took over. “It don’t always speak to us, and sometimes it’s hard to make out what it says. But we heard somethin’ the other night.”

She paused, adjusting her hair restlessly before she divulged, “It was Lucas’ voice, carried like a wave by a thousand voices, saying his name is nobody. That stood out, but we don’t know why.”

Nobody said they were nobody…

You caught a flicker of recognition in Leon’s eyes as you recalled what the man had said during Jill’s interrogation. Was Lucas responsible for all of this?

“Where’s Lucas now?” Leon asked, his voice still a little unsteady.

“He don’t want to be found.” Jack shrugged dejectedly. “My boy’s always been a real firecracker. Left home one day and never came back. We think he’s with them — the Sabbat.”

“But he’s a good boy,” his wife insisted. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“We just want him to come home,” Zoe added. “Evie wants her big brother back.”

The joy and curse of familial bonds. You could get behind that.

“We won’t breathe a word about Lucas,” you pledged, overriding your sire’s authority as you answered on behalf of him as well. “Right, Leon?”

You could see the discomfort in his expression, though he grunted an affirmative reply.

As Jack showed you out of the house, you thanked him and his family for their assistance, though a final question came to your mind. “Can Dementation have long-lasting effects?”

“With the right choice of words, it can.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

To play it safe, you took over the driving on the way back as you and Leon discussed the information you had gleaned from the Bakers.

“You think Lucas is the one?” you asked as you stopped at a red light.

“No, I don’t think he worked alone,” he opined. “It took two of the Bakers to bring me to my knees.”

There was a momentary pause as he clenched his fist at the memory, exhaling another deep breath of air. “I know we are talking about manipulating a group of lesser vampires, but unless he’s a prodigy we’ve never discovered, there were most likely others involved at the same time.”

“Makes sense,” you agreed, easing off on the brake pedal to switch over to the accelerator as the lights went green again.

“You still want to protect the guy, even after what he did?”

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, causing your knuckles to turn white. A promise was a promise, and there was more than enough bloodshed these nights.

“Yes,” you forced the answer out through gritted teeth. “Got a problem with that?”

“I admire you,” he murmured, dispelling your misgivings. “Your compassion.”

You felt your anger dissolve as you followed up with a suggestion. “It’s never too late, you know?”

He gave you a weak smile but remained silent for the ride home.

Back at his apartment, you noticed that he still seemed shaken by the night's events as he kicked off his shoes and sat on the couch, gazing blankly into space. Was he going to doze off in that position? You had already changed into a loose muslin nightdress and gone through the usual bedtime preparations.

Strolling over, you sat down beside him, trying to strike up a conversation. “They spooked you real bad, huh?”

He didn’t laugh at your joke, though he acknowledged it. “You can say that again.”

This wasn’t like him at all. You grabbed his shoulder in concern. “Hey, you don't seem okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” he sighed, looking away from you to his lap. “And… thank you for back there.”

“I would never abandon you like that,” you stressed, even if you hadn’t forgiven him for turning you… yet.

He glanced at you with his watery blue eyes in appreciation, but you could tell that his mind was in a distant place elsewhere. Even though he tried to hide it, you saw his hands quivering, and you hoped that what the Bakers had done wasn’t permanent. You knew he was trying to put on a brave front, but a part of you felt uneasy about leaving him on his own.

“Um, why don’t you sleep next to me today?” you offered hesitantly.

He peered at you quizzically. “You sure?”

“Yeah, just get dressed, alright?” You made your way up the stairs and waited for him by the bed before he could argue any further.

He joined you later, clad in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, keeping a respectable distance as he lay beside you. There was a nervous energy to him.

You drew nearer, caressing his arm tenderly. “We don’t have to talk about whatever you saw in there,” you affirmed. “I’m here if you need me.”

He tucked your hair behind your ear as a stray tear fell onto his face. Wrapping your arms around him, you closed the gap, breathing in his scent as you felt his hands along your waist. It seemed as if an eternity had passed before you released each other. His nose nudged against yours as his warm breath grazed your cheek. When his gaze lowered to your lips, you didn’t have to think or doubt what would come next.

Leaning in, he placed his soft lips over your own, kissing you intimately as he savored your taste in his mouth. Instinctively, you kissed back, running your fingers through his messy locks as your tongue licked across the seam of his lips. A low moan escaped his throat as he pressed up against you, claiming your lips again and again. It was the last thing you remembered as daysleep enveloped you like a cocoon, lulling you into a temporary hibernation.

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porcelainseashore · 5 months ago

Text

Into the Ether (11)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Author's Note: Brief mentions of homophobia, bullying, and attempted suicide, as well as suggestive themes ahead. Finally, I wanted to do a shout-out to these underrated RE characters appearing in my fic: let’s hear it for my boys, Patrick (Infinite Darkness) and Kevin Ryman (Outbreak)! 🥰

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 11: Hideous

Given how things had blown up between you and Leon in public, it was only natural that word of your outburst had gotten around. Within a few minutes, you had been accosted by an irate-looking man and his entourage kindly informing the both of you, “If you can’t control yourself on these grounds, then perhaps Elysium is not the place for you.”

Were you always meant to suffer in silence? Why was it so highly lauded? Would you win some sort of prize for not running around, kicking and screaming your lungs out? The one thing you knew, though, was that at least for tonight, you had been humiliated and ungraciously banished from Elysium.

Having to make the journey back home with Leon made your skin crawl, but you survived it, like you always do. It seemed as if every time you took a step forward, something would come around and set you two steps back. Like a Russian doll, opening the closet revealed not just a single skeleton, but countless piles hidden within layers upon layers of boxes. You were tired of this charade, tired of what else might lie beneath the earth, if you dug a little deeper.

You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you almost didn’t hear him say, “I gave the documents to the Tremere Primogen.” It was quiet and unassuming, without any fanfare. He didn’t expect it to absolve him of his sins, but he just wanted you to know that he hadn’t played God and condemned another this time.

Was it too late? You never liked things being so finite, but you were tempted to end it there and then. However, a question lingered on your mind. “Who is Sherry?”

You were back at his apartment and he had busied himself cleaning the glasses you had drunken out from earlier to avoid addressing the elephant in the room. One of them slipped out of his hands, landing with a thunk at the bottom of the sink as the water continued running from the tap.

His time with you was up; judgment had finally come for him. He had made a promise to you a few nights ago to always be honest with you, and he was going to keep it, regardless of the consequences. Shutting off the tap, he gripped the sides of the metallic basin. A knot in his chest tightened and he felt like he was suffocating.

“She was one of the vessels,” he admitted, and without further prompting, he revealed the detail that would damn him the most, “I found her when she was eight years old.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he heard your loud gasp as fat tears streaked down his face. Everything he had was lost in a matter of seconds. If by some miracle you hadn’t already hated him before, you would hate him for the rest of his unlife now. Blood pooled in his mouth as he bit down hard on his tongue.

“You’re—”

He turned around, facing you for the first time since you’d gotten back. “A monster? Yes, that’s what I am.”

“Why?” You felt the air escape your lungs with a hiss, as if through a puncture wound.

He didn’t want to make any more excuses. You knew what was implying when he simply replied, “For Ada.”

There was nothing else left to hide. He had laid everything bare before you. You saw him as who he was now, in all his vulnerability. Just a man who had chipped away at his soul to be loved and, along the way, convinced himself that this was all there was to it.

The expression on your face hardened, eyeing him like he would never be redeemed. It was the final straw and whatever shred of empathy you had for him was gone. He would do anything to win you back, going down on his knees, begging and groveling, but you had already made up your mind. He just didn’t want to see you say it.

So, he was back at the sink again, holding the glass that had fallen in earlier with a shaky hand. He mouthed the words as you uttered them, as though he knew it by heart.

“When all of this is over, I’m leaving you for good.”

Minutes ticked away into hours. You had already gone to bed, while he stared down the basin, like a bottomless pit reflecting back into him. He didn’t even wince when the glass crushed in his hand, its shards piercing and embedding into his skins as thick, dark red blood ran in rivulets to his fingertips. He watched as it dripped like black tar heroin into the drain, at the same time, wondering, Is that all there is?

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Your mind was all over the place at the cafe. It wasn’t like you to forget the program lineup, as well as the logistics of what needed to go where. You even ended up creating a mess when it came to sorting out the lighting and sound tech for the cabaret show that evening. Your colleagues shot you concerned looks as you walked around in a daze like a zombie.

“Do you think she’s burnt out?”

“Probably having an off night.”

“She’s always been a bit of a workaholic.”

Funny how Auspex just kicked in for you naturally now, and you could hear snippets of conversation from people who thought they were being so secretive.

Feeling a hand on the back of your shoulder and you spun around, coming face-to-face with Patrick. “Hey, why don’t you take it easy tonight?” he suggested. “I could cover for you. Besides, you’re the boss here.”

“One of them,” you corrected, as you stubbornly continued to unwind the equipment cords, plugging them in along the marked out areas on stage.

“Yeah, but er, the rest aren’t as active,” he reasoned.

“So?” You shrugged, heading off to the other end of the stage to check on the mic stands.

Like an obedient puppy, he continued tailing you, following closely behind. “Something’s off with you…” He wrinkled his nose. “Is it Leon?”

Upon hearing his name, you fumbled with the mic, nearly dropping it if not for your Celerity-induced reflexes. “Fuck, shit!” You held onto the stand, stabilizing yourself as you pressed your lips into a thin line.

“Alright, that’s it,” he stated sternly, prying the mic and stand away from your grip. “Head out back and I’ll join you — the usual spot.”

Before you could open your mouth to protest, he already signaled for another employee to take over. “I mean it,” he scolded. “You’re not lifting another finger.”

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair which had begun to stick along the sides of your face in the humidity. Was the ventilation system broken again?

"I can still see you thinking about work," he said, narrowing his eyes and using both hands to shoo you away from the stage.

You made a fuss and grumbled, but did as you were told and went out into the cold alleyway. Sitting alongside a curb, you stretched out your legs and waited for Patrick to arrive.

“Hm, Gauloises,” you heard his voice coming from behind as you fiddled with the cigarette pack. “Fancy.” He plopped down beside you.

There were only two sticks left now, as you’d chain-smoked the rest in the last nights. In fact, you’d gone through a bunch of them on the way to work. You couldn’t get any nicotine high out of it, but the feel and taste of them against your lips comforted you.

“Wanna split the last two?” You extended the pack towards him.

“Sure.” He fished one out, lighting it straight away before helping you with yours. You tried to hold back your flinching. “Where’d ya get them from anyway?”

“Leon’s ex.”

“Oh,” he coughed out, choking on the smoke. “Well, that must’ve been awkward.” Cocking an eyebrow at you, he suggested, “Is this what it’s about then? He’s got his panties in a twist after seeing her?”

Sort of, but not really. “More like, skeletons in the closet, y’know?” You exhaled a long train of smoke, which coiled and entwined like tendrils in the air.

“Right.” He paused, growing unusually silent as if contemplating on something. “And you’re wondering if he’s a good guy.”

You locked eyes with him, probing for answers. How the fuck did you know? you wanted to ask.

“What if I told you that I wasn’t always like this,” he offered.

“You mean, this annoying?” you jested, snickering as he smacked your arm with the back of his hand.

“Hey, fuck you.” He wagged his finger in your face. “And I meant being comfortable with who I am, liking both men and women — that sort of thing.”

Patrick had moved to Raccoon City from a small town in the middle-of-nowhere, and you could only imagine how it must’ve been like living in a place where the community encroached upon everything that you did. Stifling, was the word.

“I’ve done some stuff in the past I’m not proud of,” he continued. “People can really make some fucked up decisions when put in a situation.”

“You don’t say…” you trailed off as your lips curled into a cynical half-smile.

He glanced over at you skeptically and huffed, “What if I told you that I outed a guy I was in love with, because I didn’t want to get caught?”

You frowned, considering his words as you stared at your smoldering cigarette which had disintegrated into a stub.

“That I bullied and ostracized him after we kissed, just so I could cover my tracks?” he added. “It got so bad that he had to move away. And the last I heard, he tried to—”

You saw him clench his jaw as he cleared his throat, wringing his hands uneasily. He didn’t need to complete his sentence for you to know what he was alluding to.

“Am I a good guy, then?” he forced out, his voice tense and paper-thin, like a razor blade slicing through flesh.

You mulled over what he had shared with you as the crisp, icy wind nipped at your cheeks and your breath came out in misty puffs. “You’re a good friend,” you finally determined.

He draped his arm around your shoulders, jostling you a little as you smiled at each other in understanding. “I can’t change what I did back then,” he conceded. “But what matters is what I do next. At least, that’s what I tell myself.”

Bumping his head playfully against yours, he posed a final question, “So, what’s Leon like now?”

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Feign to the right!”

“There you go.”

“Hold your guard up!”

A string of commands were barked out by the beefy brunette man in front of you, while you worked up a sweat, throwing quick jabs at him as he countered them with ease. You kept your feet light and springy, deftly ducking and sidestepping as he aimed a roundhouse kick at your ribs.

“Nice one!” his sister yelled through her cupped hands at the sidelines.

For a brief moment, you got distracted and found Chris’ fist landing squarely on your jaw in a brutal left hook which sent you sprawling to the ground.

“Ow…” you groaned, rubbing the side of your face sorely as you scrambled to your feet.

Your mentor folded his arms, throwing you a harsh look as he admonished, “What did I say about blind spots?”

“Never have your back to the enemy,” you recited monotonously. “Always be aware of your surroundings.”

“Hey, Chris, lighten up will ya?” the redhead called out. “She’s doing just fine for a start.”

He sucked his teeth in response before spitting sharply at his side onto the dusty ground. “Fine, take five,” he relented. “We’ll work on some drills next.”

“Well, he wasn’t lying when he said he doesn’t go easy,” you muttered as Claire jogged up towards you.

“Yeah, he’s a bit of a pusher,” she explained, shrugging apologetically. “Used to be in the military.”

“Not surprised.”

You peered around the vast, minimalistic space you were in. It was an industrial warehouse at the west end of Euston Street that had been converted into a makeshift gym. The bare, unpainted walls and stripped back decor gave it an illicit vibe akin to an underground fight club. Aggressive, punk rock music blared from the stereos, accompanied by the rhythmic clunks of metal hitting the ground as the weightlifters in their muscle tanks did their reps.

From what you could see, it appeared to be a popular Anarch hangout, with the majority of them likely coming from the Brujah clan. The other Kindred at the corners of the room eyed you suspiciously as they wrapped their hands in strips of cloth for sparring practice. There were talks of you being a Cammy spy, fears that the Redfields tried to allay.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s with us,” they said, pulling you along behind them as they got bombarded with questions, which they took in their stride.

“Yeah, Leon’s childe.”

“Yes, that Leon. The one and only, you idiot.”

“So? He got to her first. Sucks to be you.”

It seemed like Leon’s name carried a certain weight to it. He must’ve been relatively respected within their social circles. You still couldn’t imagine him hanging around areas like this. It seemed too ‘unrefined’ for someone of his standing.

“I showed Leon a few tricks back in the day,” Chris boasted, his eyes twinkling with a faraway look as he recalled fond memories.

“The same tricks you’re gonna teach me, right?” you prompted, trying your luck.

He threw back his head and laughed. “Gotta say, I like your spunk, kid. But you don’t have any basic training,” he pointed out. “So, learn to walk before you run.”

And that’s how you ended up here, being pushed to your limits as Chris dumped exercise after exercise onto you, and gave you an ass whooping during one of the practice fights. You were exhausted by the end of it, collapsing in a heap on the dirt floor, as you wiped the sweat and grime off your brow.

In fact, you found out that you actually weren’t as strong as you thought you were. The time you ripped off Leon’s bedpost was an anomaly. You’d probably triggered a Blood Surge without knowing, which temporarily buffed your physical strength. Another way was to learn the Potence Discipline, which came naturally to Brujahs and some other clans, but not yours. However, in order to do that, you would need to find the right teacher who possessed those Disciplines and drink from them before your lessons could begin. That was not something you were prepared to do, though Chris had mentioned a third way, and that was by training with the blood to enhance your physical capabilities.

“Rough night, huh?” One of the Kindred who’d been watching you from the start approached, uncapping what looked like a plastic water bottle, but topped up with blood instead.

“Yeah, I’m kinda new to all of this actually,” you replied modestly.

“Well, you got a tough trainer.” She squatted next to you, gulping down the liquid in satisfaction. “But it’ll be good for you in the long run.”

You jerked your chin towards her bottle. “How’d you get one of those?”

It was an innocent question, but the bewilderment on her face told you that you knew close to nothing about their world, having been sheltered all this while by Leon. Your cheeks grew warm.

“Is that a trick question, or—?” she snorted, only to realize you’d been genuine. “Oh, um, I hunted and drained the victim?”

She followed up with another query, “Didn’t you already have your first kill?”

“What?!” you blurted out, not quite sure if you misunderstood her words.

“Like, the first person you drank from when you turned.” She moved her hands around wildly, as though it would aid in her explanation. “’Cause there’s no way they didn’t end up dead with that kind of hunger frenzy.”

“No, no… it wasn’t like that,” you sputtered, still shocked at what she had divulged. “Le— My sire helped me.”

“Wow, you’re lucky,” she huffed, clearly astounded and simultaneously jealous by the revelation you’d shared. “Some of us didn’t even get anything left for us to eat.”

“You mean, your sires just abandoned you?” you quizzed, baffled by how cruel some Kindred could be. Then again, it shouldn’t have surprised you, seeing as how you’d been treated by the rest of the Camarilla.

She nodded solemnly in response. “Yeah, pretty common among our lot, actually.”

Waving to another group that had entered into the building, she mentioned, “Caitiffs, over there.”

Caitiff was a catch-all term used for Kindred who didn’t belong to any clan, either because they didn’t know who their sire was, or they had been rejected by their clan as the blood didn’t take. The latter meant that they had no real lineage, including the clane bane and its noticeable features. They were considered to be at the bottom of the social hierarchy, just above the Thin-Bloods.

“Why do you think we’re part of the Anarchs?” she asked rhetorically. “’Cause there was nowhere else for us to go.”

The more you talked with the rest of the group, the more you realized that Leon had been shouldering most of the burdens that should’ve been yours to carry. While other fledglings scrounged around doing someone else’s dirty deeds to be able to survive the next night, you didn’t have to move a muscle. Simply because Leon had taken it upon himself to do it for you.

What’s Leon like now? Patrick’s question from the previous night echoed in your ears.

Kind, caring, protective — were the words that came up spontaneously. It astonished you that insults like disgusting, vile, revolting didn’t. But he had also been incredibly dense and obtuse at times. You facepalmed and stifled a laugh at the recollection of him dressing you in Ada’s raunchy lingerie set after the night of your Embrace. You’d been outraged at everything then, and when you’d asked him why he had done that, he blushed furiously and stammered, “I-I thought you would feel more comfortable in, uh, um… women’s clothes?”

“What’s so funny?” one of the Anarchs asked, bringing you back to reality.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, shaking your head and shrugging off the residual thoughts that lingered. But like a parasite lodged deep within the crevices of your skull, you couldn’t scrub the image of him abducting a child from your mind.

That was why you were here, you reminded yourself severely. Not to think about the small pockets of good times with Leon that brought you much-needed joy. Not to make excuses for how he could be redeemed. He wasn’t your little project to work on. You wanted to be free and rid of this man once and for all. You were here to learn how to be independent and self-sufficient, so you would never have to rely on him again.

“How do you usually feed, Claire?” you popped the question out of the blue, so much so that she thought you were joking, just like the younger Anarch.

“What has Leon been weaning you off? Blood bags?” she giggled until she saw the look on your face. “Wait, you’re actually serious?”

An exasperated groan escaped her throat. “He really needs to stop babying you.”

“Tell me about it.” You leaned back against your elbows as you idly watched the others train.

“Well, I shouldn’t be laughing ’cause I’m actually a Bagger myself,” she disclosed. “Working at the charity blood drive at the hospital gives me a couple of privileges when it comes to siphoning off some supplies.”

Raising a finger in front of your face, she preempted your next question, “And no, sorry, I got dibs on that first. You’ll have to find your own way.”

“What other ways are there?” you pondered out loud.

“I dunno, be creative,” she suggested unhelpfully. “My brother’s more the stalk and knock ’em out kind. The Anarch you spoke with earlier prefers sleeping victims…”

She shuffled from her stretched-out position back to sitting on her bum. “Whatever you choose, remember that we’re predators, so think like one. That said, these are just our feeding preferences. In a pinch, you’ll do anything it takes to survive.”

You hummed, contemplating her lengthy exposition on the topic. If there was one thing you’d been good at in life, it was talking with people, getting them excited about an idea, making them feel heard and leaving them wanting more. There were two ways to go about this: either you became a charismatic cult leader or you resorted to the cheesy but tried-and-tested method of picking people up at parties. Naturally, you opted for the latter.

When you told Claire about your plan, she grinned cheekily. “Never took you as the seductive Siren type.”

“I’m not having sex with anyone,” you protested. “Just gonna ask if they’d let me do some weird shit to them.”

“Ooh, like a blood kink sorta thing?” Placing her chin between her fingers, she rubbed her bottom lip in anticipation. “That’s pretty smart, but also on the borderline of a Masquerade breach. You should be careful.”

“It’s kinda what I thought Leon had at first to be honest,” you admitted.

Her hand flew up to her mouth, covering it as she erupted in a burst of raucous cackles. Tears fell from her eyes and her shoulders heaved up and down. Her whole body shook uncontrollably.

“Hah— oh god— jeez,” she wheezed, grabbing onto your shoulder for support. “You’re killin’ me!”

Apparently, it spread like wildfire, since the rest of the crowd reacted similarly, except Chris, whose cheeks were dusted in light pink as he looked away in embarrassment. You never thought you’d be gossiping behind your sire’s back, but it was too late to retract that statement now.

You tried to spend most of these nights away from Leon’s apartment, hoping to get back each time when he had already nodded off to sleep, but you had no such luck. He’d be sitting there either in front of his desk or at the TV waiting for you like a strict parent. Once you got in, he’d glance over at you briefly, his eyes laden with grief, before quietly switching off the lights for bed.

The change in atmosphere was jarring; you much preferred the liveliness of the cafe and the Anarch hangout, compared to the oppressive heaviness you felt at the apartment. You tossed and turned in bed, unable to find sleep, only to hear the rustling of sheets coming from downstairs, confirming that your companion suffered from the same fate. It was only in the very last moments before sunrise that your body automatically switched off like a clock.

No matter how well you tried to hide the cuts and bruises you returned with from your training sessions with Chris, nothing could elude Leon’s hawk-like scrutiny. He didn’t call you out on it initially, merely giving you perturbed looks, a raised eyebrow here and there, accompanied by a frown. It wasn't until one night, when you returned home with broken knuckles after getting a little over-enthusiastic during a combat fighting session, that he spoke up.

“Are you thrill-seeking, or are you purposely picking fights I don’t know about?” his sharp voice rang out across the room.

You ignored him, heading straight into the bathroom as you loaded a pail with cold water and ice. Plunging your fist into it, you stuffed a towel into your mouth to muffle your whimpers. Then, you roused the blood, focusing your concentration on mending the wound. Within seconds, your mangled hand fixed itself like machine parts slotting into place, becoming brand new again. A pang of hunger arose deep within the bowels of your stomach and you growled reflexively.

Shit, you needed blood. But you refused to touch the blood bags that Leon had been procuring for you night after night.

At that point, Leon stormed in. “Hey, answer me!” he demanded, his eyes flashing dangerously.

You stood up, facing him as you scoffed, “What’re you, my dad or something?”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” With a brazen look on your face, you stripped off in front of him. He stared at you in shock before averting his gaze out of respect for your modesty.

Stepping into the shower, you ran the tap, allowing the spray of water to wash away the dirt and crustied blood from your body. “Feel free to enjoy the show,” you jeered. There was a long pause before you heard his footsteps exit the room in a hurry.

You took your time getting ready, ensuring that not a single strand of hair was out of place and that your makeup was on point. For good measure, you applied a flirty cat eyeliner and chose a brighter, more youthful cherry red for your lips, blotting and smudging it along the edges to create a softer look.

Pulling out a strappy, ribbed cotton dress from the clothes you’d hung in Leon’s wardrobe, you threw it on. The material accentuated your curves but had a semi-relaxed fit, giving off a casual, sporty vibe — perfect for what you were about to get up to. You favored the warm, earthy tones of its burnt orange hue against your complexion in the mirror. It reminded you of saffron spice and the ember glow of charcoal as the floral taste of shisha filled your mouth in some distant land. Adorning yourself with gold dangle earrings, you completed the look by slipping on a pair of black heeled sandals before making your way out.

However, a hand grabbed your wrist, spinning you around as you landed with your back against the door. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Leon gave you a once over as his smoldering eyes swept over your outfit from head to toe. A multitude of conflicting emotions crossed his face, ranging from disapproval to admiration. He seemed to be leaning hard into the overprotective parent role and it was getting on your nerves.

“The night’s still young,” you argued, tempted to provoke his temper even further. Oh, well, YOLO. Giving him a devilish smirk, you added, “I’m heading out to have some fun. So, don’t bother waiting up for me.”

Wresting your wrist free from his grasp, you flipped your hair, turning towards the door as you strutted out of the apartment without looking back.

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It was drizzling when you arrived at the front of the queue at one of the more commercial clubs popular with the younger crowd in downtown Raccoon City. The rain had moistened your skin, giving it wet, glistening sheen as the bouncer ushered you into the space.

Kaleidoscopic strobe lights flashed across the dance floor while a tired playlist of the current top chart hits reverberated through the state-of-the-art sound system. You wouldn’t call this place your usual haunt for a party, but it was your best bet at finding people who’d be willing to hook up and more. The latter part being the crucial factor here.

Scanning the room, you picked out a couple of potential targets — mostly singles who were either halfheartedly bobbing along to the music or restlessly standing at the sides, on the lookout for fresh meat, like yourself.

A buzz of eagerness and exhilaration coursed through your body. The Beast in you egged you on, smiling wickedly as you approached a lone man in the middle of the dancefloor. A well-loved banger came on just in time for you to conduct what you and your friends openly ridiculed and coined as the ‘mating call’.

Sashaying over, you made eye contact with the guy and winked, making sure he knew you had his full attention. He smirked, looking as though he had just hit the jackpot. Maybe he’d been here for a while with no luck. Taking a leisurely sip of his drink, he made no attempt to conceal his blatant ogling of your figure. He wasn’t bad looking himself, but something told you that he was a little rough around the edges and probably had a foul mouth.

As you drew closer, you noticed the way his medium-length, dark brown hair fell against his face in a tousled, layered style, complementing his rugged and laid-back appearance. His square jawline was clean-shaven and he had a broader, sturdier frame than Leon. Wait, why were you comparing him to your sire again?

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” He gulped down the rest of his drink for liquid courage before dumping the emptied bottle on the floor. Placing his hands on your hips, the corners of his mouth ticked up into a cocky grin.

Hm, forward, you thought. But at least you could get straight to it then.

You let him twirl you around as you gyrated your hips against his sensually, his chest hugging your back as you made small talk. “What’s your name, handsome?”

He chuckled, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as his gravelly voice dropped an octave lower. “For you, sweetheart, it’s Kevin.”

“Kevin,” you repeated coyly, allowing him to grind even harder against your ass.

“Mmm, that sounds so good on your lips,” he murmured, peppering the side of your neck with kisses. “I’d like to take this someplace else, if y’know what I mean?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” You emitted a breathy giggle, trying to play the part of a ‘seductive siren’ that Claire had mentioned. ��Lead the way, Kevin.”

It turned out that his idea of ‘someplace else’ was rather uncreative, but you weren’t here to judge the man, you needed to satiate your hunger. He kissed you roughly against the door of a toilet stall you’d locked yourself into, ignoring the other patrons who were either drunk or high out of their minds. When you heard the metallic clink of his belt unbuckling, you knew it was time.

Pressing your index finger to his lips to stop him momentarily, you asked, “Would you let me do anything to you?” It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough.

The confusion on his face shifted into a saucy smile, as his imagination began to run wild with interpreting what you wanted. “Didn’t realize I had such a dirty, naughty girl in my hands.”

Kneading your ass, he leered, “Come home with me, baby. I’ll show you a good time.” His hands continued to grope the sides of your body. “Got handcuffs, batons, you name it. Courtesy of the RPD.”

Huh, another police officer. Looks like you had a type apparently, you grimaced internally.

You ran your hands along his muscular chest, grazing your fingertips against his neck, causing him to shiver. “I will, but first, I wanna take a bite.”

“Fuck me, that’s hot,” he gritted. “You can do whatever you want, baby.”

Bingo. Pushing him back onto the toilet seat, you straddled his lap, feeling his hardened erection against your crotch. He let out a hiss at the friction building up between your clothes. Combing his hair away from his neck, you licked a thick stripe along the prominent vein you spotted at its side.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his eyes rolling back in pleasure and you took your chance, plunging your teeth into the vein as you drank from him.

Warm, sweet blood filled your mouth to the brim like a midnight dessert, and you could taste the alcohol and nicotine in it, giving you a double dose of wooziness. So, this was what it was like to get tipsy, you laughed to yourself. All at once, your Beast quietened down, the gnawing feeling at the bottom of your stomach numbed to a point where it was just a tepid throb.

This was where you should end it right? You hoped the man beneath you was still alive. Licking the wound close, you withdrew, quickly grabbing some toilet paper to wipe away the streaks of blood from his neck before chucking it into the bin. Messy drinker. You still needed to get used to feeding.

He was out cold, though his expression was one of pure bliss. I really should get paid for this, you thought, shaking your head as you checked his pulse. Yup, he’ll be fine.

Tugging down the hem of your dress, you smoothed out the creases and stumbled out of the stall. Whoops, you forgot you weren’t entirely sober now, especially in your heels. At the sinks, you peered at yourself in the mirror. Your lipstick was smudged and splotches of bright red decorated your mouth and chin. It was on the borderline — you could’ve just had a lot of makeup on that got ruined in the process.

A partially intoxicated woman at the next sink bumped shoulders with you merrily. “Had fun?”

Trailing a line across your bloodied chin with your finger, you sucked the remnants of Kevin into your mouth, before pulling it out with a ‘pop’. Smiling widely at your reflection, you declared, “Yes.”

Back at the main area of the club, a pair of vivid, crystal-clear blue eyes illuminated in the darkness, stalking your every move. His lips contorted into a vicious snarl, and his fingers wrapped around his sweating glass, gripping it in a chokehold. He looked hideous like this, but he didn’t care. It was only feeding, yet jealousy coiled and wound its way like a rose stem around his heart, its thorns lacerating through flesh and bone, nestling itself deep within its confines.

That guy? Keith— Kevin? Whatever. He was an acquaintance through his brief dalliances with the RPD. As far as Leon was concerned, that sleazeball didn’t deserve you. And neither did he, but he should’ve been the cop you went off with instead.

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porcelainseashore · 6 months ago

Text

Into the Ether (8)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Author's Note: Implied torture and mild gore ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 8: The Chantry

He should’ve known you would be sharp enough to pick up on his remark about the suitor back at the cafe. Damn him and his big mouth. Well, you would’ve gotten wind of it somehow anyway, especially since Wesker had put you on this case with him too.

You waited patiently for his answer, as you saw a range of emotions sweep across Leon’s face. Unlike his compatriot, Luis, he was not a great talker. You’d experienced that first hand when he tried to reveal his nature to you.

“I don’t know who he is exactly, but most likely a higher-ranking Anarch,” he divulged, eyeing you intently to gauge your reaction. “The guy wanted to use you as a way to bring the East Side under their domain.”

A bunch of mixed feelings churned within you as you lamented the fact that just when you were beginning to reach an understanding with the man, fate decided to throw another roadblock in your path. “So, you Embraced me first to prevent that,” you deduced, the hurt in your voice evident as you made the following observation, “Was I just some political tool to you?”

“No, angel—” he caught himself as he accidentally let slip his term of affection for you. “You have never been, and will never be, a tool to me.”

Reaching over, he laid his hand protectively atop yours, tracing delicate patterns across its back. To his surprise, you didn’t berate him for using that pet name, nor did you shy away from his touch. Perhaps you had given in, your fire extinguished to smoky cinders.

“You know I feel a great deal for you… and regardless of what you may think, I’ve always wanted you to have a say in your Embrace,” he reiterated undeniably.

You bit your lip, still doubtful of his words. “What would you have done if I had said no?”

There was a thoughtful pause before he replied, “Probably be devastated, but I could never force you. Not like that.”

With a bitter laugh, he commented further, “I might’ve killed that son of a bitch before he got to you though.”

All at once, you were reminded of the side that made him inhuman, talking about murder as if it were a normal part of his daily routine. It irked you, but it also comforted you that he would do anything to keep you safe.

“And risk Final Death?” you asked, wondering if he was joking, or if he really would break the last of the Traditions for you. Unless the Prince had issued a Blood Hunt on a specific individual or group of Kindred, he would be forbidden to destroy another of his kind.

“Would’ve been worth it,” he quipped under his breath, his searing gaze unabashedly roaming across your body, following every contour of your silhouette as he admired what was before him.

You wore things differently from his sire, which was all he had ever known. When he reminisced about Ada, bold, bright reds, like a fountain of blood, flooded his mind. Blood which he drank from every Sunday, worshiping martyrs and sacrifices, up until the point he had strayed. Blood which gave him a taste of life and death, anger and passion, lust and love. Blood from a broken hymen on bleached white sheets, like the innocence he’d lost when he stepped into the underworld. Blood drained from a pig to drench him in when he was hazed, the resulting humiliation he had felt after and his reddened cheeks, just like the shame that carved out a hole within him when Ada left. His throat tightened, just like the way her clothes hugged her body like a boa constrictor.

And then there was you, in emerald greens, deep burgundies and swatches of black — duller, yet no less luminescent beneath the surface. Something he had to work for, digging to unearth the gem of humanity he had squandered away over restless nights and bouts of insomnia. Your flowy dress robes and kaftans transported him to gap year adventures under the starry skies in Morocco, sand filling your shoes, and the scorching heat on the desert breeze. He had never been, never left the city since he was turned. But he loved to imagine a future where he could travel there with you. Dancing with wild abandon, in dark kohl eyeliner and that carefree smile. God, that smile… and your fire. You could captivate him for days. He never thought he could feel so intensely for another person again, but he was wrong — and he was glad to be.

From your end, you regarded him with reservation. The love he declared for you bordered on instinctual passion and obsession, and you couldn’t decide if you found it flattering or problematic. As a Toreador by blood, would you end up like him? It was still early days, yet he treated you as if he had been pining after you for a century. You wondered if this was just a temporary, fleeting thing and he would eventually tire of you in time to come.

Almost as though he could read your mind, he broke away, avoiding eye contact with you as he apologized, “Sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Adjusting his collar awkwardly, he cleared his throat, coming back to his senses as he uttered, “We should, um, discuss about the Tremere.”

You nodded in agreement, dabbing your palms against your forehead and cheeks, letting the coolness seep into your warm, flustered skin. “So, I’m guessing you found something?”

“Not quite,” he sighed, gently rubbing the temples at the sides of his head.

Pushing himself up off the couch, he went over to his desk, grabbed a bunch of papers, and handed them over to you. Thumbing through the sheets, you briefly scanned its contents, realizing it was a shift schedule of all the Umbrella scientists based in NEST, as well as a couple of reports, though signed under a different name from the person you were meant to get in contact with.

Ms. Rebecca Chambers. The up-and-coming Tremere prodigy who had recently returned from a stint at the Hartford Chantry, renowned for their work on mind and memory alterations. Like the rest of the clans, the Tremere were a secretive sort, and even more so. They guarded their research and activities closely within their base of operations, known as chantries. Leon had mentioned to you about their adeptness in matters of the blood or ‘Blood Sorcery’ as it was named. They had once been a group of mages who discovered immortality through undeath, though they had wrangled their power at the expense of other Kindred. No wonder Jill had called them ‘ursupers’. You didn’t like the sound of their schemes and ploys either.

“Rebecca’s not in any of the schedules, and there’s no trace of her anywhere, even though she works directly under Wesker,” he put forth. “She’s not even credited in the projects she’s meant to be researching on.”

“It’s all signed off by this guy: Glenn… Arias?” you took a shot at pronouncing his name while flicking through the pages.

“Yeah, that’s her Regent,” he pointed out. “And a jealous one at that.”

“What do you mean?” You stopped rummaging, peering at Leon with a quizzical look.

“Well, word has it that he intends to hold onto his position for as long as he’s unliving. Meaning, capable apprentices are considered a threat to be dealt with,” he expunged.

“But he can’t just make someone relatively high-profile like Rebecca disappear,” you stated, pinching your chin in a thinker’s pose. All this sleuthing reminded you of those classic black-and-white noir films from the 1940s. Pity you were missing the whiskey and cigars.

“Yes, he can,” he insisted, pacing the room like a lead detective hot on the case. “He’s already doing it now — scrubbing out her achievements, making sure she leaves an invisible trail, and hoping that she’ll be forgotten among the sea of neonates who dazzled a little too brightly.”

“And of course the fucker is taking all the credit for her work,” you sneered, disliking this guy already before you even met him.

“Looks like you and I have something in common then,” he noted with a lopsided smile. He hated the man as much as you did. “Unfortunately this leaves us with no choice. If we want to get to Rebecca, then we’ll need to go through the fucker.”

You slumped back into the couch, your weight causing the upholstery to mold to your body. “Gonna need a whiskey beforehand.”

Shaking his head as he laughed, he took a seat on the coffee table directly opposite the couch facing you. “Sure, just be prepared to throw it up an hour later.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

When nightfall came the next day, you found yourself sulking in the passenger seat of Leon’s jeep as he drove towards the northwest of Raccoon City, heading straight into Raccoon Forest. It would be several miles before you’d reach your destination. In the background, grunge rock music from one of the local radio stations played at a low volume through the car speakers. Resting your head against the window, you heard Leon humming along to the melody as he tapped the steering wheel in time with the steady beat of the track.

“Funny, didn’t take you as a rock’n’roll kinda guy,” you muttered, still peering out of the glass pane, unwilling to look at the man who you were dead certain was wearing a giant smirk on his face right now.

“Glad I can continue to surprise you then,” he answered jovially. “I was young and rebellious once you know.”

“You? A rebel? Please…” you scoffed, rolling your eyes so far back into your head you probably could’ve popped them out of your sockets if you wanted to.

Instead of replying, he belted out the chorus lyrics in his annoyingly smooth voice. Frankly, you were a little sore about your exchange earlier back at his place when he had kept his word, and allowed you to have a sip from a cask of fine French whiskey stored in his vitrine. The problem was, he didn’t tell you that it would taste like shit.

Seeing as your undead body wouldn’t be able to digest it, you were prepared to risk throwing up just to have a shot of alcohol running through your veins. However, it turned out that everything except wine would taste like ashes and dirt. You didn’t even need to force yourself to regurgitate the contents; you did it naturally, spewing it out like a spray while Leon howled with laughter. Some fucking joke that was. Asshole.

“Still pissed off, huh?” he questioned. You could sense a hint of remorse in his voice.

“Take a guess.”

You felt his fingers brush against your arm. “Hey, I’m sorry. Sometimes I get a bit carried away,” he whispered apologetically, his tone subdued, as if he was a dog who’d been chastised.

“Mm.” You pursed your lips, shrugging noncommittally.

“If you want, I can teach you how to be able to enjoy things like before,” he offered as a form of consolation. “But to experience the effects of alcohol, you’ll need to drink from the inebriated.”

Finally, you faced him to catch his midnight blue gaze, and he gave a weak smile. “Time for me to get wasted then.”

He took that as a sign that you had forgiven him, and you were back to bantering again. “No drinking on the job,” he warned.

“Yes, boss.”

With that, you turned your attention to the changing scenery outside, which blurred past your window. Gone were the city lights in the distance; you were now deep within the thicket of the forest. Tree branches shaped like claws scraped the sides of the vehicle and peculiar winged creatures flew in and out of the shadows. The only source of light was the car's beam, focused directly on the path ahead. At times, you thought you could make out pairs of glowing red eyes from the bushes in the dark surrounding you. Clutching the door armrest, you felt pinpricks of cold sweat forming on your palms, and you couldn’t wait for this segment of the journey to end.

As you reached a clearing, you saw the pale moonlight gleaming overhead through the clouded sky, its pearlescent light casting a silvery sheen across everything in sight. That’s when you spotted the imposing mansion in front of you as the car made its way up the driveway. There was a bluish tinge to its white-painted exterior, and although the building was well-kept, there was a decaying quality to it, as if it had been abandoned by its owners decades ago. You observed its towering columns and large lancet windows, noting the intricate details carved into the eaves of the roof. Who knew there was a mysterious grand manor situated in the middle of nowhere within the woods? You felt like an extra in a B-movie horror film.

After parking the car, you and Leon hopped out of the vehicle, walking over towards the main entrance of the house. Except for the sound of gravel crunching underfoot, it was eerily silent and nothing stirred. It began to dawn on you why the place was so unnerving: there was no rustling of animals or chirping of insects; it was completely devoid of life.

Spencer Mansion. So, this foreboding construct was Raccoon City’s Tremere Chantry. Perhaps there were worse clans to be part of, you ruminated.

Raising his knuckles, Leon was about to knock on the front doors when they creaked slightly ajar on their own, until a strong gust of wind materialized out of thin air, swinging them wide open as they rattled against the walls of the house. “Nice party trick,” he mumbled sarcastically.

“I heard that,” a voice boomed from the main hall.

The hallway was as opulent and musty as the building's facade, with smooth, spotless marble-tiled floors and a red carpet rolled out from the door towards the stairs. There was an elegant chandelier suspended from the vaulted ceiling, as well as decorative candle stands and sconces in every corner. Despite the multitude of light sources available, the room still seemed dimly lit.

In the center of the carpet stood a woman in a preppy tweed pantsuit, picking at her fingernails as she eyed the two of you haughtily. Even though she was alone, you had the strange sense that there were plenty of others in the room hiding in plain sight, and watching you from the shadows.

“An acolyte,” Leon whispered, making sure he was out of earshot this time.

It was just a fancy name the Tremere gave to a fledgling. Essentially, she was at the bottom rung of the pyramid, a newbie like yourself, and yet she was behaving as if she owned the entire manor.

“The Regent is waiting for you in the bar,” she informed. With a slight, dismissive wave of her hand, she indicated for you to follow her.

“Stick close to me,” Leon instructed, drawing you in until your arm bumped against the side of his chest. “You don’t want to get lost here.”

Definitely not. You’d heard about the chantry traps that the Tremere were famous for, designed to keep out both malicious entities and those unfortunate souls who had accidentally stumbled in, blissfully unaware of the nature of this place. Ending up like them would be worse than a disaster.

As you passed through the main hall, a stately set of doors on your left caught your eye. They were cracked open, and through the gap, you could see two rows of people seated opposite each other at the long cherry wood dining table. A large burlap sack, bound with rope, lay on its surface; whatever was inside squealed and kicked about. You could hear its muffled screams when suddenly, all the diners turned their heads to face you, completely expressionless.

Gasping in shock, you instinctively huddled against Leon’s body, seeking refuge from the chilling scene you had just encountered. He hooked his arm around your shoulder, allowing your head to burrow in the crook of his neck as you continued onwards. An odious grin crept over the acolyte’s face as she witnessed your reaction.

Climbing up the stairs, the whole mansion descended into a torturous maze. It was a nauseating feeling to lose all sense of direction, unable to distinguish where you were or where you were going. Each corridor looked the same; you took countless left and right turns, and it felt as if you were being led around in circles. Even your depth perception was off; objects shifted and merged, and passages stretched and compressed as you walked through them. It became increasingly difficult to judge your distance from anything in sight.

You tried to focus on the acolyte, using her as a beacon to guide you through this complex web. Although Leon was faring better than you, he too appeared to be struggling to keep up with the pace. You were ascending levels only to head back down again, no longer sure which floor of the mansion you were on. Was this some cruel joke she was playing on the two of you, or were they trying to ensure you’d never remember how to navigate a route through the building?

The next time, it was Leon who saw something unspeakable. Red light emanated from a narrow doorway at the side, and within it, a naked man was strapped to a sturdy mahogany chair. His head lolled on his chest and his frail body was bruised and battered. Pieces of his flesh had been carved out in strange shapes; some of the slabs were scattered on the floor. His festering wounds were weeping and if not for his feeble, trembling groan, Leon would have assumed he had been long dead.

“Christ, this is some sick shit,” he hissed under his breath in revulsion. You peered in the direction he had glanced at, but there was only an austere portrait hanging against a blank wall. Were the both of you going mad and imagining things?

Shaking his head, he advised, “You don’t want to go looking for it, trust me.”

At last, the acolyte came to a stop, ushering you into a modest-sized room with checkered tile floors, reminiscent of a chessboard, and an oak bar counter at the side where a clean-cut, impeccably dressed man sat. There was a grand piano facing the bar, and Moonlight Sonata was playing on its keys despite there being no musician present at the instrument.

The room was vacant, apart from the lone person by the bar, whom you presumed was Glenn. He appeared to be a middle-aged man with graying hair and a deep scar across his left eyebrow. His long suit coat was a well-coordinated palette of grays, reds and blacks. As he imbibed the ruby red liquid in his crystal tumbler glass, a dash of it spilled out by accident, though it hovered in the air. Setting the glass down, he sucked it into his mouth with ease; his mouth twisting into a sinister smile.

“Please, make yourselves at home,” he welcomed both of you, gesturing to the unoccupied bar stools before him. Despite his mild mannerisms, his gaze was cold and calculating, honed through years of corrupt transactions and political backstabbing.

When you had settled in, the acolyte closed the door shut, leaving you with the man. It was then that he spoke up again, “There’s no need for pleasantries, so let me cut to the chase. You wish to see Ms. Chambers, yes?”

“On Prince’s orders,” Leon highlighted.

At this, Glenn laughed contemptuously, “I thought you knew better than to use threats against me, Mr. Kennedy.” He extended his gloved finger, wagging it scathingly in front of Leon’s face. “Unlike what the rest of you neonates think, the P-word doesn’t hold much weight here.”

Retracting his hand, he reiterated, “For your sake and the sake of your childe, I suggest you learn to play by my rules.”

You watched as Leon lowered his head in submission as your hatred towards Glenn grew. Were all the Tremere stuck-up assholes? You had a hunch that such behavior was largely shaped by this man himself.

“Excuse my earlier transgression, Mr. Arias,” Leon apologized rather perfunctorily. “Is there something we might offer in exchange for the inconvenience?”

“That’s more like it,” Glenn remarked, curling his finger over his lip as he nodded favorably. “Well, now that you mention it, I suppose there is.”

From under his coat, he pulled out a thin folder of documents, handing it over to Leon. “You see, for some reason, it’s been a tradition in my clan to divide the roles between Regent and Primogen, when really, they could just be handled by the same person.”

“And you want the Primogen title,” Leon surmised.

What else would he expect from a power hungry Tremere, who wanted the best of both worlds? As a Primogen, he would be considered his clan’s representative within the Prince’s Council — the first port of call the Prince would consult on various matters. That, along with being the figurehead of the Chantry, would allow him to elevate his status to what would essentially be a dictatorship within his clan.

“You said that, not me,” Glenn pointed out sneakily. “I’m merely exposing the incompetence of the current appointee.”

He tapped the documents in Leon’s hands. “Anyway, back to business. It’s quite simple, I’d like you to plant these documents in the office of the current Tremere Primogen. Discreetly, of course.”

Pausing for dramatic effect, he drummed his fingers on the counter. “And then we’ll see about your visit with Ms. Chambers.”

“What’s in them?” you questioned abruptly.

His eyes snapped sharply to you. “Oh, so she speaks!” he mocked. “Let’s put it this way, it’s enough to get her for treason.”

You were about to counter with a barbed remark when Leon cut in, talking over you, “Mr. Arias, would you be so kind as to allow my childe and me a few minutes to converse over this matter in private?”

An acerbic smirk appeared on Glenn’s face. “Of course.” He nodded slightly and took his leave.

“So you’re just gonna sit there and accept this slimy motherfucker’s offer?” you goaded, already irritated about being interrupted by your sire earlier.

“Language!” Leon hissed, reproaching you gravely. “The walls have ears.”

This only served to incense you even more, as you slammed your palm on the countertop in defiance. Glenn’s empty glass skittered across its surface, though Leon caught it just in time before it shattered onto the ground.

“You’re condemning an innocent person to Final Death or worse!” you accused.

A dry chuckle slipped from his lips. “Innocent? No one in that sort of position, let alone this world, is innocent.”

For once, you were at a loss for words, only able to articulate how you felt about him in the moment. “You disgust me.”

“Honestly, I disgust myself at times,” he admitted rather self-deprecatingly.

Some part of you could understand that perhaps this was all he knew: lies, deceit, and shady dealings. Could you change that and make him see things from your perspective? You had to try.

Placing your hand over his, you squeezed it, peering into his brilliant blues as you reasoned, “How many compromises are you going to make until there’s nothing left in here?” You prodded his chest gently with your finger, urging him to reflect on what made him human.

“I—” He scrunched up his face, a tormented expression blooming across it as he turned away, unable to look you in the eye. “I-I can’t…” His voice was pinched and strained, as if it would hurt him to utter any more words.

“This is just how it works in the Kindred world,” he asserted, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Your anger dissipated into pure disappointment, weighing like a stone in your heart. “Keep telling yourself that,” you stated simply as you let him go, resigning yourself to your original position. Coward, you denounced internally.

As if on cue, you heard three sharp knocks on the door before Glenn came back in. “So?” he questioned, glancing over at the two of you in anticipation.

Leon’s features stiffened as he met the man’s gaze head-on. “We accept.”

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porcelainseashore · 6 months ago

Text

Into the Ether (7)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

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Chapter 7: More Than Human

During the time you stayed at his place, Leon let you have the bed while he took the couch. You tried not to feel guilty as he draped one of his extra bed sheets over it, fluffing the cushions up like pillows. And you tried not to feel the same guilt again, when you glanced over at the broken bedpost that you’d damaged in a fit of anger not long ago.

With a remote control, he closed the blackout shutters over every window in the apartment. They locked themselves with a click, ensuring that all outside light would be blocked out. A large duffel bag sat by the side of the room. Earlier, you’d packed a bunch of your stuff and transferred them over to your temporary residence. You didn’t know when you’d be able to return home again. Perhaps when the case that you’d been unwittingly assigned to was over and you had the chance to invest in some thick blinds.

You kept the usual hygiene routines you’d practiced before, wanting to retain any sense of normalcy you could from the time you had been human. Leon appeared to do the same. You felt like a weird couple, brushing your teeth together as your deadened gazes stared straight into the bathroom mirror. What was the point of pretending to be something you weren’t? You spat out the foamy toothpaste, traces of reddish-pink swirled along its surface. At least you could still bleed.

“Sleep well,” he murmured, fingers grazing your wrist as you passed by his couch. Then, he was out like a light.

You watched as he entered into a comatose type of daysleep; no breathing and no heartbeat to be found. He lay like a corpse, dead to the world — exposed, vulnerable and defenseless. Only vitae could reanimate him now.

You were glad that you couldn’t dream in this state. After what you had experienced, there would be no shortage of night terrors. Leon had mentioned about other Kindred who could hear whispers from the Abyss or the Beast in their sleep, but so far you hadn’t had to worry about that. In fact, going to sleep felt like dying all over again and for a moment you panicked, thinking you were suffocating on a bed you were unaccustomed to. But soon, you drifted off into nothingness, and your brain shut down until it was time for you to rouse the blood again.

It was an hour before sunset when you woke up, gulping in air as if you had drowned and resurfaced. Maybe it would take a couple more tries before you’d become more familiar with the feeling. You peered down from the upper level of the loft, spotting that Leon was still out cold. Funny how you were the early bird for once.

Filling a glass with the tangy, dark red liquid from his supply in the fridge, you drank it imagining it was beetroot juice. It was easier to stomach it this way. Your colleagues were expecting you at the cafe this evening, and you decided to get yourself ready to head off, paying close attention to the way you styled your hair, your makeup and even your clothes. You weren’t sure if they would be able to sense if anything was ‘off’ about you.

Leon hadn’t instructed you to do anything tonight, but it still felt as though you were a grounded kid sneaking out on a sleeping parent as you left the apartment building for a place you’d always regarded as your second home. Perhaps it would be nice to pay a visit to something you were familiar with in your previous life.

“Whoa… hey! If it isn’t the girl who came back from the dead!” Patrick called out the moment you stepped into the establishment.

You nearly choked on your saliva, and he must’ve noticed the look of absolute horror on your face, as he peppered it with, “I mean, your phone was dead, and, uh, we thought you got kidnapped or something,” while rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Bursting into laughter from the unnecessary tension you had been holding in, you pulled him into a tight, almost desperate hug, like you’d never been happier to see him. He seemed flustered by your sudden display of affection, but returned the embrace, giving you a few awkward pats on the back.

“Y’know, something about you seems… different,” he squinted, giving you a once-over, when you released him from your grip.

Shit, did you miss a spot? Was there blood on your teeth? Could he tell that you weren’t human anymore? A barrage of thoughts raced through your mind, until you reminded yourself to play it cool with one of those jokes you usually cracked when you didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah, guess I got pretty.” You shrugged, emitting another giggle as he rolled his eyes.

“If you were fishing for compliments, you could’ve just said so. I’m a generous man,” he retorted before heading towards the stage area to set up. “Anyway, whatever. Holler if you need me!”

As the evening crowd began to trickle in, you noticed that the two companions who seemed to know Leon, albeit on less than friendly terms, had shown up tonight as well. They waltzed over to you, though the nearer they got, the more they looked like they were treading on eggshells. You feigned busyness and the nonchalance that came with it, putting away clean glasses and helping your colleagues to take orders at the bar. It wasn’t until the male counterpart of the two thumped his broad, hefty hand on the counter top to get your attention, that you could no longer avoid the inevitable and turned his way.

“How can I help you?” you asked, putting on a well-practiced, polite smile.

“Mind if we take this somewhere more private?” It didn’t sound like he was the type to take ‘No’ for an answer.

“Um, sure?” You acted as if you were confused, but you had an inkling of where this was heading and wanted to see if your suspicions had been right all along.

Leading them to a storage area at the back, which was semi-hidden from public view, you waited for them to talk.

“So, we heard about your new status,” the man began, carefully choosing his words.

Oh boy, that explains it. “Jesus, you guys too?” you blurted out, pressing your forehead against the palm of your hand as you heaved an exaggerated sigh. “How many of you are there? And why my cafe?”

Before he could answer, you kicked a loose piece of trash on the floor in irritation and cursed out loud, “God-fucking-dammit.”

The man raised his hands halfheartedly like bear paws, his soft brown eyes looking on at you in amusement. “Sis, you sure this one’s a Toreador?” he roared out in laughter. “Smells more like one of us.”

The woman rolled her eyes, pushing her way forward in front of this hulk of a man. “Sorry about my brother, he’s not great with women.” You heard a disgruntled snort from him as she said that.

“Anyway, I’m Claire,” she mentioned rather matter-of-factly, though she hesitated a little before sticking out her hand towards you cagily, as if you might chew her head off.

You weren’t sure what all the fuss was about as you accepted it, offering a firm handshake, which seemed to surprise her. For the first time, she smiled appreciatively back at you while you followed up with a short introduction.

Turning towards the man, she indicated, “This big boy here is Chris.”

Without any pretense, you took his hand proactively, giving it a similar handshake as he glanced at his sister, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Does she know?” he questioned.

Claire ignored him, focusing on you instead as she broached the subject. “Listen, I’m gonna cut to the chase here. You and I? We’re kinda on different sides, if you catch my drift.”

You nodded at her to continue.

“Thing is, most of us Anarchs are wondering if we’re now gonna have to vacate this area, ’cause uh, well, you’re a Cammy,” she tried to put her point across as succinctly as possible. “And I don’t mean this as a threat or anything, but I gotta say, there are some who are pretty pissed that this shit went down.”

Right, the Anarchs. They were but a brief footnote in Leon’s history lesson. The ones who broke away from the Camarilla, founding their own governing structure from what they deemed as ‘oppressive rule’. You likened them to left wing radicalists against the exclusive, upper echelons of conservative society. It was a no-brainer which group out of the two you would have preferred, but unfortunately Leon had already made that choice for you.

Anger at the lack of agency you had in all of this unfurled like gaseous vapor, sluggishly rolling off the tip of your tongue. “Fuck Kindred politics and whatever form of bullshit that it comes packaged in,” you seethed. “I’m not going to play anybody’s game here. As long as you behave, you’re welcome in my books.”

Chris gave a low, drawn-out whistle through his teeth as he clapped measuredly in response, somewhat impressed by your impassioned speech. “I like this one; she’s got some bite,” he told Claire before addressing you wistfully, “Damn, you would’ve made a great baby Brujah.”

No prizes for guessing that these two belonged to that clan. Rabble-rousers, spirited fighters, but intellectuals all the same. You wondered what it would’ve been like to join them. Were you merely a Toreador by lineage alone, shoehorned into the clan because of some forlorn love that your sire had for you? One that you were conflicted in reciprocating. Or did you actually have the heart of Brujah instead? What would happen if you didn’t belong in your clan?

“Yeah, that’s a shame,” she agreed. “Though you are a bit like Leon in some ways.”

“Claire!” her brother warned. It was his turn to knock some sense into her.

“What do you mean by that?” you pried, aghast that they could find any similarities between you and the man who broke your trust.

She opened her mouth to say something further, but he gripped her arm as his eyes narrowed at her.

Wedging yourself between the two of them, you demanded, “You can’t just bring him up and leave me hanging?!”

“See what you’ve done now?” he fumed, the corners of his mouth drawn downwards into a pronounced frown.

“Chris, she’s gonna find out sooner or later,” she fired back.

“Will someone just tell me what the fuck is going on?” you groaned in exasperation.

Chris let go of Claire roughly. “Fine, sis,” he grunted. “But you deal with the aftermath.”

Yanking her arm away, she tugged her devilish red leather jacket down by the lapels to straighten it, before explaining, “Leon used to run with the Anarchs for a while. Well, not officially, according to the Cam, but I would’ve considered him like a brother.”

Shooting daggers at Chris, she added snippily, “Apparently, having one already wasn’t enough, so I had to torture myself with more.”

Chris shoved a fist into his chest, as though an arrow had pierced his heart. “Ouch, that hurts,” he grunted mockingly.

Your jaw dropped at the story that Claire spilled to you. Leon as an Anarch? You could never imagine him joining the cause.

“No way that prissy ass, stuck-up, boy band reject switched sides,” you exclaimed, as Chris stifled a guffaw at your insults. It was evident from your tone that your pent-up frustration over Leon’s convenient omissions and hypocrisy had reached its boiling point.

“Way,” she rebutted smugly. “And I don’t blame you; I’d be mad as hell too if I were in your shoes. Unfortunately, Leon was always guided more by his emotions.”

Expelling a weary sigh, you leaned your arm against the wall and buried your head in the crook of your elbow to steady yourself. “I don’t understand this guy.”

Claire threw you a sympathetic look as she continued, “Now, this is just a hunch, but I’m pretty damn sure he was about to defect to us, when the Cam got him by the balls.”

You perked up, arching your eyebrows as a quizzical expression spread across your face. “With what?”

“That’s a good question. We don’t know,” she admitted, exchanging perplexed glances with Chris that could rival yours. “But must’ve been something nasty.”

You wondered if Leon would tell you if you asked him. But seeing as how he’d already been keeping secrets from you, either out of a misguided belief that it was for your own good or for more malicious reasons, you weren’t optimistic. Maybe you’d wrangle it out of him someday. After all, he owed you — a lot.

“Anyway, you both seem, um, cool? We should stay in touch,” you suggested, suddenly unsure of whether things like this worked the same way in the Kindred world. Perhaps you were overthinking it.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Claire flashed a grin. “We’re not going anywhere.”

At that moment, something caught Chris’ eye and his previously jovial expression turned solemn. Leaning in, he mumbled into your ear, “By the way, your vampire daddy is here.”

Vampire daddy?

You angled your head to peek in Chris’ line of sight and near the entrance of the cafe, you could make out Leon glaring in your direction. Uh oh, were you in trouble?

“Ha ha, very funny, Chris,” you articulated sarcastically, but before you could make your way over, Leon had beaten you to it, already standing by your side with his hand on your shoulder.

“I see you’ve been getting acquainted with my protegé?” his innocuous question taking on an accusing tone.

You couldn’t comprehend what the hostility was for. “Yeah, turns out they’re actually great company, so why don’t you back off?”

Chris snickered in the corner as Leon clenched his jaw, visibly incensed by your interference. Wheeling you around, he backed you against the nearby wall, palms flat against either side of your head, caging you in with his body.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he growled. “And don’t ever interrupt me again.”

His reprimand resounded in your ears which were now bright red; you weren’t sure whether it was from embarrassment or anger, or both. Swallowing a lump in your throat, your eyes darted from his glittering blue ones to his full lips, which were a hair’s breadth away from yours. He remained unmoving, but you could see his features darkening and a conflict brewing in his mind. Warmth pooled in your chest and your face flushed, remembering that same electric rush you felt the last time he was this close to you at the arbors. Was this what you were attracted to — the danger and excitement? Or was there something more to it?

“Having fun babysitting, Kennedy?” Claire’s voice pierced through the mounting tension in the room.

That broke his trance as he peeled himself away from you diffidently, carding his fingers through his hair as its silky strands fell back into his face. “Good to see you too, Redfield,” he remarked dryly. “Still running your mouth like you used to, huh? Guess nothing’s changed.”

Folding her arms across her chest, she shifted her weight to one hip and sassily replied, “Could say the same about you. I mean, you always did have a thing for… interesting women.”

He scoffed, brushing her comment aside with a shake of his head as he steered the conversation onto a different topic. “I need you to do something for me.”

Claire opened her mouth to say something, but he raised his finger to silence her. “Uh-uh, let me finish. This concerns all of our skins. I assume you’re aware of the incident that happened the other night?”

“Yeah, it was pretty fucked up,” Chris attested, speaking on behalf of his sibling, before glancing at you and mouthing “Sorry.”

You gave him a sad, side smile in recognition. It seemed like no matter how you tried to avoid it, you were fated to be reminded of your passing again and again.

“I’m not pointing fingers here, but it’s likely there are more players than the Sabbat involved,” Leon explained.

At this, Claire raised her voice defensively, “Are you trying to pin this on us? You think one of us was responsible?”

Her brother, who seemed to be the more collected one, patted her shoulder a few times, indicating for her to stand down and listen to what else Leon had to say.

Leon nodded curtly at him, as if they shared some sort of unspoken brothers-in-arms code that you and Claire weren't part of. “No one’s blaming the Anarchs. At least, not yet. I made sure of that,” he pledged.

Claire pressed her lips into a thin line; you could see her bristling at Leon’s words. However, she knew that he had done something to prevent Wesker from launching a full-frontal assault and destroying the Anarch conclave in one go.

“That suitor you mentioned…” he trailed off with a slight pause, and for some reason you felt all pairs of eyes land uneasily on you for a brief second before he continued. “The one interested in the East Side domain.”

“Yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” she snapped, obviously uncomfortable with the way this discussion was headed.

“What if it was no accident that she was there,” he suggested, pointing at you as more questions popped up in your head. God, you hated how they talked in riddles sometimes.

Waving her hands about frantically, she rejected this notion and went on a vehement tirade, “That’s nuts! Are you even listening to yourself? You sound fucking insane, how the hell—”

Though, once again, her brother stepped in as the voice of reason, “He’s right, it could be a power play.”

“It could be many things,” Leon corrected, trying to appease the siblings. “I’m just saying we need to keep an eye out. After all, we’re only pawns in this game,” he added cynically.

“And don’t try to argue with me on that, Claire,” he preempted. “You and I both know there’s bullshit within the Anarch ranks too.”

This time, she kept her mouth shut, though her face was still livid.

“Regardless of the politics, another incident like this and we’ll be wiped by the SI, I can guarantee you that,” he stated bluntly.

“He’s got a point,” Chris established, looking over at his sister to see how she was faring.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she let out an aggravated groan, “Ugh, fine! We’ll see if we can find any dirt on him.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Leon squeezed her shoulder in gratitude before cautioning, “It goes without saying that this stays between us.” His eyes flitted momentarily to where you stood. “Including you.”

To his satisfaction, you bowed your head slightly in acknowledgement, making a mental note to run through some points with him later on.

As the siblings prepared to set off, Claire turned around to address Leon for a final time, “Guess we’ll be seeing you around here more often.”

Smirking at the dumbfounded expression on his face, she affirmed, “Your protegé declared the grounds as neutral… again.”

With that, they went back to join the crowd in the front of the cafe, leaving the both of you to your own devices.

“Couldn’t you have waited before making a decision like that?” Leon chided, sighing heavily as his eyes searched yours for an explanation.

Unfortunately for him, this time, you had the upper hand. “What was that about not ordering me around in my cafe?” you challenged, chuckling to yourself quietly. “Or did you already forget, Kennedy?”

He glowered at you, realizing a little too late that he’d locked himself into such a deal the night before. Luckily, he still had an ace up his sleeve. “That only works up to a certain extent. Remember, you’re still a fledgling under my care.”

“Right, the sire card,” you simmered, tired of the constant antagonistic exchanges with the man. “Anything else you wanna toss in while we’re at it?”

“Look, I don’t want to keep fighting with you,” he admitted, his gaze softening as his fingers grazed your cheek lightly.

If you were honest with yourself, that was what you longed for as well. “Then don’t give me a reason to,” you breathed, lowering your eyes as you reinstated a suitable distance from him, to avoid any further misgivings.

“I’ll see you later at home,” you whispered, your finger absently tracing the length of his arm as you walked away.

━━━━━━━━━━━

For the rest of the evening, Leon left you alone at the cafe, and though he sat at his usual spot while he was there, he left at some point halfway through without saying goodbye. On the one hand, you felt relieved that you didn’t have to speak with him further, but on the other, it smarted a little to know that he had ignored you afterwards.

The cafe was bustling with activity as usual, and it was as if you had never left. You found solace in the routine you had set yourself, helping out with the technical system, pouring drinks for guests and taking turns with your colleagues to announce bingo numbers on stage. Of all nights it was Bingo Night. Someone won a travel-sized steam iron while another snagged themselves a pastel-colored riding crop adorned with ribbons. The random prizes made it fun, as evidenced by the giggling faces of the crowd who made their way up to the stage to receive them.

You shared a smile with Patrick, sweating in the muggy air, as the house lights reflected across shiny surfaces, glitter on skin and bejeweled décolletés. The room was cast in a warm, golden glow, soft and blurred on the edges like a Rembrandt painting. Even though time slipped through your fingers like fine sand, things seemed to move in slow motion. You missed this; you missed living, just like the rest of them. Now you could only impersonate life, and watch as the rest of the world grew older while you didn’t, and your friends drop like flies, rotting in their graves while you mourn their loss.

Hot, fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you wiped them away with the back of your hand, still smiling, teeth showing through the pain. Patrick looked over at you in concern and you laughed, dismissing it as being overcome with emotion. What was it—? Your period’s coming? Too many late nights and not enough sleep? Just tiredness, you feigned. Bidding your colleagues goodnight, you trudged out into the sinking cold, already craving the comfort of being surrounded by people, both strangers and companions alike.

You were lost in your thoughts the whole way back to Leon’s place, so much so that you didn’t even hear him greet you when you came in. It was only after the second time he had called out that you realized you were being spoken to.

“Is something bothering you?” he asked, worried that your current state of mind might have to do with how he had treated you earlier.

Collapsing onto the couch, you let your legs spread out limply over the edge, fiddling with your thumbs. It was not like you could go on social media anymore and chat with your friends on there. Not when your smartphone had been confiscated and all you had left was a semi-allowed, shitty flip phone which was mainly good enough for playing Snake.

You shook your head, but he still came round to sit beside you, holding a metallic, hexagonal contraption in his hand that he had been tinkering with at his study desk. That was when you noticed the reading glasses hanging loosely by a silver chain around his neck. The oddness of his get up momentarily distracted you from your previous troubles.

“You still need those?” you questioned, gesturing towards the dated-looking spectacles before his chest.

“These?” He raised them up, closing one eye as he squinted through the lenses, inspecting for dust. Sticking the tip of his tongue out between his teeth, he rubbed them clean with the hem of his iron-pressed white shirt. It seemed like he was used to them, and had worn them for a very long time.

“No, I don’t,” he answered plainly. “But old habits die hard.”

“They do, don’t they?” you remarked with a bitter smile. “Chasing after things that make you human?”

He sighed, understanding full well the predicament you were in and that he didn’t exactly have a remedy for it. Yet, there was no point in lying to you.

“I do, and many others do, until we can’t anymore,” he stated. “We’re just a wolf in sheep’s clothing and inherently evil — at least, that’s what the pessimists think.”

What he had mentioned was bleak, but at the same time, you appreciated his honesty, which, in your opinion, had been lacking lately. “What do you think?” you probed, eyeing him with curiosity.

He pondered on it for a while before he spoke, “I don’t believe a word they say,” he confessed. Cradling your chin with his fingers, he lifted it towards him. “You are human enough. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different,” he instructed, brushing his thumb tenderly along your bottom lip.

You felt heat rise towards your cheeks as you actively searched for something else to grab his attention. The contraption — it was lying at his side. “Is that a puzzle box?” you managed to cough out.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” he muttered self-consciously, handing it to you as you pulled away from each other. “Wanna give it a go?”

He looked at you expectantly as you twisted and turned the various segments of the device like a Rubik’s cube, some of which clicked into place softly, while others remained unfettered and movable. A toothy grin broke out across his face as you motioned to him for help with the remaining steps and he jumped in, placing his hands over yours to connect the remaining steps.

Before your mind could process the closeness of your bodies and his touch, the contraption connected entirely, unlocking and unfolding itself into a flattened shape. He beamed at the object in triumph, as though he had achieved something remarkable.

“You built this yourself?” you asked, tracing its ridges, impressed with his creativity and craftsmanship.

“Yeah, I've loved puzzles since I was a child,” he explained. “Maybe that’s why I went into solving crimes, huh?” Raising his arms, he stretched himself out and yawned.

“Anyway, it kind of reminds me of better days,” he added melancholically. “When things were simpler.”

“I would’ve liked to get to know you back then,” you said, only realizing a second later that you had uttered your thoughts out loud. You had to restrain yourself from clamping a hand over your mouth in response.

His face melted at your words, though he kept his distance, uncertain about the mixed signals you’d been sending before. “That’s nice, but you probably weren’t even born yet,” he teased.

You snorted, surprised that he still had the ability to crack you up. “How old are you even?”

“Rude,” he scolded, wagging his finger at you.

Rolling your eyes, you propped yourself up on the couch, suddenly invested in learning about the man’s age. “Come on, tell me,” you coaxed. “I promise to be on my best behavior for a day in exchange.”

“A day?” he guffawed, shaking his head. His bangs swished from side to side as his eyes crinkled in amusement. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Hey, take it or leave it, old man,” you taunted, turning towards him with an impish smirk.

“That’s a low blow, even for you,” he tutted, pausing briefly before revealing, “'77, I was born then. Embraced when I was 24… or was it 25? It’s been a while.”

“Oh, so you’re not that old then,” you pointed out, mentally calculating that he must’ve been in his unlife for just about over 20 years.

Ever the optimist, he shrugged, unruffled by your comment. “Guess I should take that as a compliment.”

Both of you erupted into peals of laughter — the first genuine one you’ve had in a while. This was how it should’ve been. No tears, no politics, no drama, just easy-going conversations learning about each other. You continued talking a bit more about the past, how he was like, how you were like, and you contemplated if you were just clinging onto things that didn’t exist anymore. He had changed and so did you, but when you looked at a person as a whole, their histories made them who they were. You wanted to accept all of him, though a barrier still stood in your way.

“Can I trust you to always be honest with me?” you raised out of the blue in the middle of your conversation with him.

He was taken aback at first by the sudden request, wondering if there was more to it.

Scooting closer to him, you added, “Even if it’s bad, I want to know.”

It was a lot to ask of him, considering how much the Kindred world relied on secrets, games and deceit. But he knew it was important to you, especially in earning back your trust. A voice in his head, which he had grown accustomed to after being burned time and time again, warned him about betrayal. She’s no different from the others… it said in a garbled, distorted tone, like someone speaking underwater. She’ll use it against you.

Call him naive or stupid, but he went ahead anyway. You could bring him to his knees to beg, and he would still do it gladly. “I’ll try,” he whispered, aware that he was on the verge of signing his unlife away. “You can ask me anything you’d like.”

Your hand pressed lightly against his chest, smoothing out the creases in his clothes as you swept it upwards to his neck. Your caress against his weak spot caused his breath to hitch. Toying with the trace chain hugging his skin, you pried, “Did the suitor you were talking about with Claire have something to do with me?”

Right away, a shadow cast across his face and his eyes clouded over. Withdrawing your hand, you began to regret your choice of words to begin with.

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