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porcelainseashore · 5 months ago

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Into the Ether (11)

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.

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?

━━━━━━━━━━━

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.

━━━━━━━━━━━

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.

#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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vaaaaaiolet · 2 months ago

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Recs for angsty smut? Dark or not I don’t care 😣

oh baby I GOTCHU. nsfw warning for all these obvi

@ authors seeing me in your notifs, pls let me know if you prefer not to be tagged <3

Falling from Grace by @lapis-lights: tumblr / ao3

multichap where you and leon are enemies and you're kinda "i'm half-dead and at your front door bc i don't know where else to go" trope combined with a mission + romance and smut with FANTASTIC buildup and OOOOFHOFHO it is SO fucking good I adore this fic so much

Never Penelope, Always Calypso by @miss-oranje-disco-dancer: tumblr / ao3

when i tell you i've sobbed to this fic MULTIPLE times. i forgot to include this in my last fic request ask but i IMPLORE you to read this. leon is married to ashley but has a no strings attached arrangement with reader for years and they have sex to jeff buckley in one scene. do you see what i'm getting at. URHG

moth to a flame by @mandalhoerian: tumblr / ao3

SHAI IS UNMATCHED. not only do you get to CHOOSE your own ending in this multichap fic, both the plot + smut are TO DIE FOR. i kid you not when i say i still get chills thinking about it. yearning, complicated relationships, leon's job getting in the way, i cannot do shai justice with a blurb pls go read it i beg you (AND READ SACROSANCT ONCE YOU'RE BACK FROM THE DEAD AFTER GHOST TO ITS HAUNT)

best of luck to you soldier 🫡

#📚 fav fics #ns/ft #📞 answering machine #leon kennedy x reader

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idyllcy · 2 months ago

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fic rec masterlist!!!

bc since I no longer reblog on this acc, I'll make a post to update as I read stuff!!

LEON S KENNEDY

mandalhoerian (yeah just. just the whole account. yeah. go read. now.)

sex education (nsfw!) by uhlunaro

take me back to eden (nsfw!) by sweeterthanficstion

good morning, charlie by uncouth-the-fifth

my cuddly eldrich boyfriend! by leonw4nter

because i love you enough to turn around by vampiricgf

you could be someone by its-wolfgangster

coupons (angst no happy ending + smut FUCK this was good) by arquiiva

SAY IT BACK by delphi-shield

requiem for a dream by praisethegabs

eyes on my baby (nsfw) by vaaaaaiolet

RE: You don't even know my name by vaaaaaiolet

fish boy by mydarlingclaudia

restoring natural beauty by lottiies

sentiel by inkonparchment

color theory by clandestinedmeetings

slipping through my fingers (nsfw) by miss-oranje-disco-dancer

to lose a dream by messenger-of-babel

HADES GAME

No Light to Tell Us by pupkou (Zagreus)

HAIKYUU

stop an angel from losing its wings by 6okuto (Akaashi)

blanket hog by breadbrobin (Tim Drake)

keep me here (with your skin on mine again) by luvrodite (Jason)

girl i wanna see you undo it by delusionsofgrandeur13 (Batboys)

bergamot by pluvialpoet (Dick Grayson)

how to disappear (nsfw) by pluvialpoet (Dick Grayson)

joker! Tim (suggestive) by chikaras-garden

GENSHIN IMPACT

An Encore of Betrayal by vivalabunbbun (Neuvillette)

#pic credits to user 605248566 on xhs!#☾.masterlist #i'll update more after tmmw promise but here's everything that was on this account at one point #☾.fic recs

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jolalibrary · 5 months ago

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undercoverpena's birthday bash masterlist 🍊

a place where all the things birthday bash will be stored. and will be updated as soon as jo can, but if she's slow, she's eating cake* *cake may also be frankie morales

BIRTHDAY BASH INFO | BIRTHDAY GALS NORMAL MASTERLIST

THE PAINT SHADE CORNER

🎨 javier peña. the man. gifset - @iamasaddie

🎨 fern frankie moodboard - @secretelephanttattoo

🎨 pretty in pink (javi p x reader fic) - @sawymredfox

🎨 joel miller almond butter moodboard - @evolnoomym

🎨 three p's in a moodboard - @janaispunk

🎨 brakelight red javi gifset - @pedgito

🎨 pistachio pea (javi p x reader fic) - @morallyinept

🎨 english violet video edit (ft. tim) - @survivingandenduring

🎨 banana dreams ficlet moodboard (ft. frankie) @inept-the-magnificent

🎨 cadet gray (tim x plus size reader fic) - @nerdieforpedro

🎨 crushed berry moodboard - @elfhydrangea

🎨 aero sky fic blurb and moodboard (frankie) - @eupheme

🎨 pink melody moodboard - @hellfire-state-of-mind

🎨 in another life (javi p x reader) - @ozarkthedog

🎨 safe harbour (santi x frankie) - @yopossum

🎨 mauve memories (frankie) - @schnarfer

🎨 cerulean eyes (frankie + pool party) - @mothandpidgeon

🎨 atomic tangerine - @jennaispunk

🎨 cambridge blue (motorbike!frankie) - @toxicanonymity

🎨 rainy days (frankie x reader) - @thetriumphantpanda

🎨 unwrapping gifts (frankie x reader) nsfw - @msjarvis

🎨 renew blue moodboard - @milla-frenchy

🎨 wisteria way (javi p) - @hellishjoel

🎨 when can you come back again? (javi p x reader) - @thundermartini

🎨 midnight green - the day before (frankie x reader) - @just-mj-or-not

🎨 sunny day (frankie) - @kedsandtubesocks

🎨 woo red (dave) - @evolnoomym

🎨 and for dessert? (javi x reader) - @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

🎨 wait (joel x frankie x santi x you) - @luxurychristmaspudding

🎨 jardin green (frankie) - @valeeeez

JO'S SPRINKLES OF LOVE

🍊 el's beanery for @secretelephanttattoo

🍊 freedom felt like summer for @thetriumphantpanda

🍊 the dave york sight for @goodwithcheese

🍊 the yearly round up (fanfic)

#birthday bash: masterlist

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admirxation · 7 months ago

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˗ˏˋ admirxation's weekly fic recs ´ˎ˗

!! dark content ahead, please read the warnings the authors have provided, and then continue at your own discretion !!

5th may '24: here are some fics i've collected this week, obviously this is not every single fic but i wanted to give some more spotlight on the ones that literally had me bouncing off the walls lmao. if anyone wants to see more recommendations i have a 'admirxation fic recs' tag if you're ever wanting to read something, and i want to try and do this every Sunday to give some love to creators. i will try to limit this to 10-20, and some weeks might be shorter cuz i don't always have to time. thank you to these creators making these fics and please give them some love

resident evil fics

“If I gotta sin to see her again then I’m gonna lie.” [NSFW] {dad’s boss!Jack Krauser x fem!reader} ~ The reader ends up on their knees for the stranger allowed in their house; starting a fling with her fathers boss.

this was written by @mrswint3rs now i read this a bit ago but i just can’t forget about it. i love krauser content so much like there needs to be more content for this man, i love my pookie leon a feral amount but pookie bear needs to share some spotlight for the other RE guys. i am not embarrassed to admit that i keep rereading this fic, it does something to the brain chemistry. honestly the moment this girl posts more krauser fics im leaping like it’s my last meal cuz AHHHHHHH. the forceful but seductive characterisation that is written within krauser is so memorable and had me blushing and kicking my feet, and to expose myself further the secrecy tropes always get the meter going they are my guilty pleasure.

playing house [NSFW] {stepdad!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader} ~ the readers mother had passed away, leaving Leon and the reader to get closer.

this was written by @miss-oranje-disco-dancer now i always thought i wasn’t into the whole ddlg scene, before anyone things im hating i never gave hate to the concept i was just never apart of the craze if u get me, however, this fic has made me rlly rlly crave ddlg content to the point i’m wondering if the writer laced their words with crack cuz IM SO HOOKED. the gradual progression of the reader and leon is so hot, especially *spoilers for the rest of the fic* when they start sharing a bed dude the tingles i felt, and then the breeding when the reader acts so nonchalant about being bred by leon like YESSIR I NEED THIS MORE THAN ANYTHING.

Playground Love {older!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader} ~ age gap love between reader and Leon.

this was written by @j3llyd0nut . i might have a problem which how much older men fanfics i consume, like gurl its becoming a big problem… that i dont wanna fix oop- this fic doesn’t go into smut (ik what a shocker for me to be recommending something that is straight up porn lmao) but it does deal with age gaps, and i felt the way the writer portrayed it was so well written, especially with the readers’ mothers feelings to it. dating someone older comes with a mix of feelings, the envy was well encapsulated as well as the worry where it is often people try to warn. also the ending quote was such a killer (as an oscar wilde fan hehe… im an english student i love a reference).

Nerd Leon [NSFW] {nerdy!Leon Kennedy x nerdy!fem!reader} ~ Leon and the reader are both virgins who have had a crush on one another.

this was written by @nvoirs (it won’t let me tag them but you have the link to go show them some love). i love lil nerdy leon, he's so cute, especially with the pictures above the fic hehe. honestly the reader is so relatable, the idea of someone asking you out as a joke hahah ive been there too many times, no one can force me back into high school i will claw them. i quite liked the dynamic of them learning together, hehehe it's so so hot and cute at the same time and it deserves so much more love in my humble and very correct opinion.

the last of us fics

older Joel Miller [NSFW] {older!Joel Miller x afab!reader} ~ ft nervous Joel who hasn’t dated in a while and nervous to be with the reader who reassures she wants to be with him.

this was written by @pedroshotwifey and omfg i’m like the biggest simp for joel to the point it’s honestly embarrassing lmao, i feel like they wrote joel quite well and i would imagine if he was to become involved with someone again he would be nervous and be in his head about it; i found the writing of the transition back into sharing physical intimacy really well written and enjoyable, it’s not easy to do that but the author did it so well. my fav joel oneshot.

jujutsu kaisen fics

A proper send off [NSFW] {stepdad!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader} ~ Toji puts his claim on the reader before she goes to college

this was written by @bratbby333. i feel like i died, like the author put the words on the screen and it make me curl up in a ball and squirming cuz i need toji biblically, and then i died, and then the words brought be back to heaven and then i was bonked and put into horny jail. i’m actually feral for this man. i’m feral for too many fictional men but toji is ughhhhh AHFJFKDKSKSKDDKEKSKW. i loved the descriptions of the reader almost being made for him, or more accurately, Toji making the reader made for him; the description of *SPOILERS* him moulding her pussy for his dick was YUM YUM YUM YUM YUM, i was salivating like fucking homer simpson I NEED IT.

Daddy Issues [NSFW] {stepdad!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader} ~ reader is a brat whose stopped by her step father Toji

this was written by @nexysworld and my oh my does this girl cook, I AM THE BIGGEST NEXY FAN EVER HEHEHEHEHE. i am a new recruit to the toji fan club and boy oh boy was this the most exciting oneshot to first read after finding my love for this beautiful man. I gotta say the way nexy writes toji is honestly a game changer. like he’s such a jerk that u wanna slap, but i also am enticed by how much of a jerk he is… and perhaps wanna be slapped by him- WHO SAID THAT 👀 damn.

“well, we should probably fuck. Right?” [NSFW] {satoru gojo x fem!reader} ~ reader and gojo are trapped in the prison realm with nothing else to do.

this was written by @kingkonoha. now as we have all learnt about me liking something normally isn’t in my vocabulary; if i like a piece of media best believe im putting my whole soul into it. jjk is a new edition to my fandom endeavours and heheh gojo is my first love, im such a gojo girlie IF ANYONE COMES TO DETROY MY PEACE F OFF LMAO (gojo and toji girlie fr i am). okay if you’re a gojo girlie, kingkonoha’s writing is top tier. i loved the way they encapsulated gojo’s personality, he’s so cocky in this oneshot and ugh i just can’t help but see it so on brand for gojo; also the dirty talk in this fic is like toe curling afhdisosfheisidfhwowjwf I NEED HIM IN A WAY THAT IS CONCERNING TO FEMINISM.

The fanboy guide [NSFW] {satoru gojo x fem!reader} ~ gojo is the readers number one fan and manages to finally meet them in a meet and greet.

this was written by @kingkonoha . i love obsessing over fictional men BUT OH THIS FIC RLLY HAD THE TURNED TABLES. look i dont need anyone judging my likes, i like the idea of someone, especially gojo, obsessing over me and telling me he loves me while i ride him. girlhood = hearing i love you while riding gojo lmao. i love this creator to the point they’re probably fed up on me constantly liking their stuff haha. some bits i wanna point out, the dirty talk was like A* and the way he’s obsessed and basically babbles i love u like AFHFJSWISODODOWKWNEJ this has a chokehold on me and is like feral spray for the gojo girlies to get going lmao.

Tease [NSFW] {satoru gojo x fem!reader} ~ reader teases her sensei over text, and he later shows up at the readers door.

this was written by @dark-and-kawaii . oh look more gojo fics, are we surprised, no rlly cuz he's so hot and ugh i need him so much. i love dirty talk especially sexting it's so hot, but the fact he literally shows up at the door? i was shook but like in a horny way lmao. honestly the jealousy he feels it’s like kinda embarrassing how much i love to imagine someone all jealous over me like hehe tell me how much im in ur mind rent free HAHA. honestly i love this blog, i followed for the bg3 content and stayed for like the absolute talent in every one of their works, so much love <3

i will possess your heart [NSFW] {yandere!satoru gojo x fem!reader} ~ satoru thinks the reader belongs to him and will go any length to make that happen.

this was written by @bratbby333 . okay on this account we love a yandere, the idea of someone being so obsessed that it’s a danger to the lover, themselves and everyone around, A MUST!!!! honestly, it’s kinda baddddd how much i love these yandere oneshots but oh well it’s not like im gonna stop eating this up when everyone fr cooks. i honestly have to say this is the best yandere fic ive seen, like i was fangirling over the author over every word and punctuation they strung together, like huhhhhh it had me on a chokehold throughout it all. the journey of obsession and how far gojo went and his pathway to that was so well written, and the scene with the ex boyfriend and the heart ?!?!?!?! i was literally wide eyed like an owl going “WHAT OMFG”.

to be ex husband [NSFW] {satoru gojo x fem!reader} ~ ex bf gojo comes back in readers life and asks for a hand in marriage.

this was written by @arminsumi . lmao this fic made me have so many emotions. first of all, SHOKO MY BELOVED IS MY BESTIE I LOVE SHOKO. but the idea of gojo being an ex cuz he was a play boy i was like hmmm f u man, breaking my heart (like bruh i was so offended like i actually was the reader to the point i was like bruh i have to calm down) and then after when he’s getting all giggly with suguru im like hehehehe let the fucking commence i need me some gojo action. honestly this fic has an amazing balance of oooo this is sexy, to feelings of being a lil mad, but also comedic moments. it honestly encaptures gojo’s character so well, i was rlly impressed. also i didn’t know how much i needed someone to ask for marriage while fucking ahe

#admirxations weekly fic recs #admirxation fic recs #divider by cafekitsune #fic recs #x reader fics #5th may '24

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rubyklaasje · 1 month ago

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now that i don't have to worry abt art im worryin about excerpt like.. i like this 1, it's the one i have on the actual ao3 post itself:

Ruby’s eyes searched the floor as she tried to cohere her singular thought (How dare you? How dare you? How dare you?) into a different, more specific question.

“Why did you- what did you tell them?” She had to hear it herself. Do we ‘have’ to?

Klaasje’s reply was immediate — tense and quiet, “'Them', who? I-I don’t know what you’re-”

Ruby shouted, almost laughing, “YES YOU DO! You do, Klaasje,” and Klaasje winced — not at Ruby’s rising tone… but at the use of that word. That soft, long, guttural sound which meant herself – Klaasje. Ruby squinted. That’s right… that wasn’t even her real name.

BUT!!!! IDK im like maybe one of these??? this one feels too long and dialogue heavy but also it's really not my fav passage.. like i dont rly like the 'prose' in this part at all:

"You didn't try to find me. No, what you did was send them after me.” Klaasje didn’t respond, frustrated to be continually interrupted. Her jaw was clenched as she let Ruby continue, “RCM. Pigs – worse, Madre’s favorite pig-”

“He wasn’t. He didn't even have a gun, he could barely remember his own name-”

“He was clearly capable enough to arrest you!”

“They didn’t though… they let us both go-”

“You couldn’t have known that he would… They could have arrested me for my work alone, but they sought me out for a murder I didn’t commit, based on the false information you gave them.”

Klaasje finally addressed Ruby’s assertion, stumbling over her words, “Wh-what did they tell you?”

Ruby held Klaasje’s gaze. “Why don’t you tell me?”

or this one which will explain why klaasje 'looks like that' on the fic cover but i ALSO DONT RLY LIKE THE PROSE HERE EITHER.. SO ....:

Klaasje pulled on the vest and zipped it up, then pulled Ruby’s headphones off of her neck, onto her head. Ruby looked her up and down. This wasn’t Klaasje… it was 'Jean' – a tall, young man with poor eyesight and poorer posture from his short but intense driving career. Privileged, devout, and shaken from his first taste of the real world. His short yet overgrown hair stuck out, boyish and sloppy beneath the bulky headphones. Believable. Ruby’s hand throbbed. Fuck.

“You can drive?”

Klaasje nodded.

“Yes.” Klaasje had always had some drawling length to her vowels that was especially pronounced when she’d had something to drink… but she seemed to draw them out on purpose now. Or, maybe, she had only stopped restraining her instinct to do so. It was subtle, and Ruby wasn’t even sure the change had been made.

Ruby turned, looking back at the lorry, at the flour bags growing soggy in the ditch. She turned again and looked out across the wasteland behind them.

"Fuck ."

idk all my fav bits of writing in the fic are way too spoilery or just nothing without the context... idk idk idk im leaning toward just keeping the first one and including a version of this old old description i wrote last year:

what would u do if u just found out yr failed talking stage framed u for her boyfriend's murder, and as u r bitterly fleeing your narrowly avoided death and/or imprisonment for this accusation, you coincidentally run into said failed talking stage in a bathroom just outside of town? context: she is also fleeing, but she's not leaving behind the wreckage of a life she worked extremely hard to build (like you are), she's fleeing the responsibility of the lives she destroyed, including yours.. would u see it as a chance to 'hold her accountable' for the wrongs she's done unto u ? some justice, some answer to all this needless death ? now that your life has ostensibly already ended, would you, for once, bring yourself to try out the one high-risk high-reward activity that never interested you before ? would u seek revenge ?

OR should i just use these actual disco quotes???

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "I think I know who did it. Who shot Lely... I can tell you. I can help you." KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - She's silent for a second -- as if looking into herself for certainty. Then, in a hushed voice, she says… KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "Ruby.”

RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR - "I never did understand why, when someone dies, a hothouse's worth of flowers has to die too."

#literally so much text under this read more enter with caution #im just brainstorming what excerpt to use for the big roadtrip fic post when i post it...

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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 10 months ago

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daddy all along

pairing: leon x reader

cw: smut, daddy kink, age-gap, hurt/comfort, alcoholism, daddy issues, morally dubious behavior, virgin reader, reader is 21 during all sexual/suggestive scenes but there is a non-sexual scene at the beginning where reader is a child.

word count: 7k

summary: leon is reader's dad's best friend. he has known you since you were very little and has acted as a secondary father figure at different times in your life because your father is an alcoholic/workaholic. but leon's not your dad, he's actually there for you (and he's very sexy). your dad misses your 21st birthday and leaves you with leon, and you convince him to take your virginity.

a/n: no, you should not do this in real life. this is purely for fiction. yes, it is weird to write reader as a child and then as an adult. if you don't want to see this type of content, then don't read it.

part 2

You remember the first time you called Leon 'Daddy.' It was the first time you slept with him, on your 21st birthday. That's your version of the truth but not the truth. Leon remembers the first time you called him 'Daddy.' You were three years old.

"Leon," a tiny voice whispered, and with it came even tinier footsteps down the stairs.

Leon paused the TV and turned towards you.

"What is it, princess?" he said, matching your tone.

"I can't sleep," you pouted.

He motioned for you to come closer, and you did.

"Why is that?" he asked, lifting you into his lap.

Sitting on his knee, you said, "I'm scared of monsters".

"But there aren't monsters, sweet pea."

"But what if there are, and we can't see them?"

He looked into your big eyes and saw the genuine worry behind them. He pulled you closer, towards one hip, so that he could safely stand with you in his arms.

"How about we check one more time, and I'll show you that there are no monsters?"

You nodded, head pressed to his chest, relaxing into the comfort of his arms.

He put you down in your bed and looked through every corner of your room - the back of your closet, under the bed, every drawer in your dresser - to prove there were no monsters.

"And even if a monster came in here, I'll be right downstairs, so they'll have to go through me before they can come get you."

"What if the monster gets you?"

"The monsters never win against me."

And that was true. You were too young to understand what he meant, though.

"Can you sleep in here?"

"I can't fit in your bed, princess."

"When I get scared, sometimes Dad sleeps on the floor."

Leon had been substituting for Dad more and more frequently. It made him upset, not at you, but for you. He couldn't believe that, especially after your mother had abandoned you both, your father would choose work, women, and alcohol over you. Someone had to choose you, and that someone was going to be Leon. He always wanted to save people and to be a good man. Heck, he even imagined himself as a father before Raccoon City flipped his life upside down. Since then, he'd resigned to the idea that he'd never get the stereotypical wife and two kids living in a house with a white picket fence. The closest Leon would get to being a family man was when he slept in your father's guest room. He'd made peace with that.

So, that night, he slept poorly on your bedroom floor, even after you bargained with you to give him a pillow. You gave him one of your stuffed animals, too, thinking it might help him in the way that it helped you. He nearly cried at how thoughtful you were as a little kid.

"Thank you, sweet pea," he said, accepting your thoughtful gift.

You smiled, rubbed your sleepy eyes, and said, "Goodnight, Daddy."

Leon heard what you called him, but he never acknowledged it to you. He had a good poker face.

"Goodnight," he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You slept, thank god, and as he suspected, no monsters appeared.

This went on periodically throughout your childhood, your father being gone, and Leon stepping in. At some point, you got old enough that Leon didn't have to sleep on your bedroom floor as you no longer believed in monsters. Ironic, he thought, considering what he'd seen, but he'd never share the horrors of his job with you, even if the government would let him. No one deserved to bear that kind of hurt, not even he did.

Leon was around less once you were old enough to take care of yourself. According to your father, he'd been going through some things - those things remained unspecified, but you put together the pieces once you saw him.

Alcohol. That's what your father meant. It took your father away from you, and you feared Leon would be next. Leon drank a little too much, too often, and when he did, you distanced yourself from him. He never told you that he'd noticed the way you shied away from him, how you always retreated to the safe space of your bedroom when he was over. On the surface, you handled it all quite well. You didn't yell at Leon and tell him to get sober, you didn't cry yourself to sleep, you bypassed the first four stages of grief when you felt like you were losing him. Too used to being disappointed, you preemptively resigned yourself to the fact that he would end up like your father: gone, in one way or another.

Leon got better, though, unlike your father. Neither of you ever talked about it, but your rift mended itself. Leon watched your face light up in hope and gratitude when he refused the drink your father offered him for the first time in a long time. Your hello and goodbye hugs returned, and you made noticeable efforts to linger in his presence; most notably, you went back to derailing the conversation whenever it came to bedtime, something you'd done since you were a kid.

You became a debate champion and a master manipulator when it came to convincing Leon to let you stay up later. Every argument was futile, and he knew it; he continued to play your games for fun, but you had the key to his heart whether you knew it or not, and he would always give in to you.

Leon didn't need to babysit you anymore as you got older, and his work life got increasingly busy. Plus, he had to spend time on therapy and self-care now that he'd decided to get sober. Thus, he saw you less often. It was okay, though; you had secretly and very loosely planned to visit him in D.C. once you graduated college, got a big girl job, and were no longer governed by your father's rule.

Adulthood couldn't come sooner.

For your 21st birthday, you were hoping you could go out with a friend - or go to a party, though you wouldn't tell your dad the second part. However, you had been grounded for partying the weekend before - indefinitely, so your 21st would be spent at home with your dad. It could be a blessing in disguise, you thought initially, since your dad was rarely around. Now, you'd finally get to spend some quality time together. But alas, you were so very wrong about that. At the very last minute, your father was called out on an urgent work mission.

When you were a child, this was his standard excuse for anything from a date to a night out on the town with friends. Sometimes, though, he really was needed at work. You'd allow yourself to believe it this time as a birthday gift. You'd spend the night crying otherwise.

The nail in the coffin was that your dad got you a 'babysitter.' A babysitter on your 21st birthday?! It seemed like there should be a way to legally refuse that kind of thing. You expected the babysitter to be the mean old woman who lived next door; maybe if you were lucky, her daughter, who was slightly less of a bitch, would be in town, and your dad could pay her to take care of you instead.

You were in your room, beginning your pity party, when the doorbell rang.

"Honey, your babysitter is here. How about you come down and say hi," your dad called.

"Tell my babysitter to fuck off," you fired back.

"How about you come tell him yourself?"

Him? You thought. A male babysitter?

You walked downstairs to give this man a piece of your mind, making sure your resting bitch face was securely in place, but when you made it halfway down the stairs, you met the man's eyes and realized, "Leon?!"

You ran into his arms, which were already outstretched for you.

"Hey, Princess," he chuckled into your hair, "did you have something you wanted to say to me?"

"I missed you?"

"No, I thought you were coming down to tell me to 'fuck off.'"

"I didn't know it was you. I would never tell you that."

Your dad was already halfway out the door when he said, "Happy Birthday," with a wink, like they'd planned this night all along. There was no way in your mind that your father was a wingman and not a tyrannical dictator, at least not until that night.

You were a simple woman and could be satisfied with pizza, a movie, and your favorite middle-aged man sitting next to you on the couch.

Leon called the pizza place and ordered the usual for the both of you: half of your favorite toppings and half of his. The estimated delivery time was 30 minutes, according to the person on the phone.

"What's your bet?" Leon asked, hanging up.

"45 minutes," you said.

"Wow, you're pessimistic today," he said.

"No, I'm realistic, and I'm accounting for traffic," you said, "What's your guess?"

"One dollar," he said.

You played by The Price is Right rules - whoever is the closest without going over wins. The prize? The loser has to answer the door when the doorbell rings. It was a low-stakes game.

40 minutes later, Leon was crowned the winner, but you still made him get the door because it was your birthday.

There was another tradition your family shared surrounding pizza; it was an ancient memory but so well-preserved. When you were much younger, having lost the little guessing game, your father answered the door, and Leon remarked off-handedly that the woman was beautiful - she was out of earshot, of course. Your dad jokingly offered to ask for her number on his behalf.

So, when Leon returned with a mischievous smile, you should've known what he was going to say.

"Here, princess," he said, handing you the receipt, "got his number for you. It's right on the back."

"You did not!" you took the receipt in your hands and searched for a phone number on the back, falling for Leon's tricks.

"I did not, you're right." Leon stuck his tongue out at you, as you used to do to him when you were a little girl.

You returned the gesture, and he served you up a slice of pizza, serving himself second like a gentleman would.

Unlike old times, you were allowed to eat in the living room since you'd reached an age where you could be trusted not to ruin the furniture.

On his way to the couch, he made a detour to ruffle your hair. "Movie?" he asked, holding the remote.

"Sure." You sat down beside him, a respectful distance away.

Leon wanted to watch something new, but you wanted to watch Jerry Maguire for the umpteenth time. So, naturally, you compromised by watching Jerry Maguire.

At some point during the movie, you turned to him and said, "I just realized I don't know anything about you."

That was the truth. The only things that you'd gathered from the many years you'd spent around Leon was that he wore a leather jacket, he rode a motorcycle, which you were not allowed to touch, and whatever cologne he wore smelled delightful. You couldn't pinpoint the particular scent, couldn't tell cedar from pine. If you had to describe it, you'd say it smelled familiar and good. You'd never seen him with a woman, and you weren't allowed to know anything about his job, similar to your father's.

"What do you wanna know?" Leon asked.

You hadn't really thought that far. You didn't expect him to be so receptive to your questioning.

"Have you ever been in love?" you blurted out.

He tilted his head to the side, confused about why you'd ask about his love life.

"What?" he asked with a mouthful of pizza.

"I asked -"

"- I heard what you said; I was just wondering why you asked."

"I don't know, really."

"Okay, uh, yeah, I've been in love before," he said, looking towards the ceiling like he was trying to find a memory, "It was a long time ago, though."

"Okay."

"Is that sufficient?"

"I doubt I'll get anything else out of you, so it'll have to do, I guess."

"Smart girl. You say you don't know much about me, but you know me better than you think."

Leon went on to ask you questions about school, your friends, and the like, trying to shift the spotlight from his life onto yours. Getting information from him was like pulling teeth. It made you wonder if he'd learned to keep his secrets due to his line of work or if he was always a private guy.

"Leon?"

"Yes, princess?"

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Based on your last question, I should probably say no, but because it's your birthday, I'll let you continue your interrogation."

"It's not an interrogation. You're not in handcuffs or anything."

"Uh-huh," he said with an eye-roll, "Ask away before I change my mind."

"When did you lose your virginity?" you blurted out.

He choked on his water, spitting it onto his shirt.

"Wow, okay, that's - you're really going there, aren't you?"

"Just answer the question."

"I can't plead the fifth?"

"It's a normal question; you're making it weird." You couldn't meet his eyes and opted to look down at your feet.

Maybe he pitied you because he answered after a deep breath. "I was, uh, 16."

"Was it any good?"

He sighed. "It was okay… for me, at least. I don't know how much she enjoyed it. Didn't really know what I was doing back then."

You hummed in response, nodding and briefly looking up to see his face.

"How 'bout you?" he asked in an unexpected turn of events.

"What?"

"Didn't think you could get away without answering the question, too, did you?"

"Oh," you started, "I'm, uh, I haven't yet."

"Nothing to be ashamed of; it's normal at your age. Not that I'd know, of course."

He was always the one to try to lighten the mood, and it pretty much always worked. You laughed and playfully smacked him before saying, "I'm gonna go get in my pj's, I think."

"Good idea. Gimme your plate, and I'll clean up."

You handed him your plate on the way out of the room, quickly making your way upstairs. You had a plan.

Every man had a sex drive; every man had something that made them tick, but what was that special thing for Leon? How could you entice him if you'd never seen him with a woman? You had no idea what he liked, so all you could do was guess.

You had a cute pink nightgown ready for this occasion. It was all silky with lace trim and all too revealing of your decolletage, peeking through the top, as well as the tiniest pair of panties you owned. A lace thong that matched the trim of the nightgown perfectly.

You waltzed downstairs to find Leon in the kitchen doing the dishes by hand. You decided that you should get a glass of water to put on a little show for Leon. You reached up to the top shelf to grab a glass, which made your nightgown ride up, showing your entire ass, subsequently bending down to reach the filtered water in the fridge, giving Leon a similar view. You couldn't tell if he was looking, but you lingered, teasing him, begging him to take a look. When you turned around, you caught him turning his head in the opposite direction. He knew he'd been caught, too.

You took your glass of water to the couch and sat down, knowing that unless he wanted to walk out the back door, Leon would have to face you in the living room. You could see him trying to fix his pants in a way that would hide his hard-on, but you could still see the bulge when he came into the living room and sat down next to you. He didn't dare look below your neck. You scooted closer to him, and he pretended to look at the clock before saying, "You know what? I'm going to change into something more comfortable as well," and promptly headed upstairs.

When he came back, he was wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, which did a piss-poor job of hiding his erection. You sat there all pretty, smiling at him, watching him shift his weight from foot to foot.

"It's pretty late. I think it's getting close to bedtime," he said, acting like you were still a child.

"Okay," you said, pouting, pretending to be reluctant to walk towards him.

You sauntered over, and he made a deliberate effort not to look at you.

"Will you tuck me in?" you asked, using your cute little pouty face on him - the one that always worked.

"Don't you think you're a little old for that, princess?"

Princess? He must be messing with you. He must know he's making you want him even more, right?

"Please, Leon. It's my birthday."

"Fine. Since it's your birthday, I guess I have to tuck you in, don't I?"

He gestured for you to walk upstairs first. Maybe he did want to get a peek at your ass.

You sat on the edge of the bed, hands in your lap, back straight, with a smile. A good girl.

Leon's figure loomed in the doorway. "I'm gonna level with you here," he started, "I don't know what you're trying to do, but you and I both know this is an act."

"What's an act?" you continued to feign innocence.

"The naive little girl thing. The tiny nightgown, the pouty face, bending over in the kitchen."

"It's your problem if you're turned on by it."

"Who said anything about being turned on by it?"

You looked him in the eyes, then down at his sweatpants, which did nothing to hide his arousal, and then back at his eyes.

He was red in the face. "Fine. You win. Happy?"

"What do I win?"

"Getting to see me embarrassed. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"No."

"Then what is it that you want?" He crossed his arms, waiting for you to say it.

"You."

He shook his head. "Mm-mm. Nope."

"Why not? You want me too."

"It's not right. That's why."

But he didn't deny it.

"I'm 21. I'm an adult."

"But I'm still too old for you. And I've known you since you were a baby."

"And that's exactly why we should feel comfortable around each other."

"I have no problem being comfortable with you in a non-sexual context."

"But it's my birthday."

"You already played that card, princess."

"Please?"

"Please, what?"

"Just one kiss?"

He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, contemplating.

"I won't tell anyone," you promised preemptively.

"One." He walked towards you. "But that's it."

"Deal, but it better be a real kiss. Not like a friendly peck on the lips."

You'd probably given him one of those when you were a toddler. This was different.

"I should've known you'd negotiate further." He pretended to be exasperated, but his smile betrayed him. He had a soft spot for you. "What are the terms?"

"It has to last at least 30 seconds."

"10."

"20 is the lowest I'll go."

"20 for the birthday girl."

He closed his eyes and leaned in. His lips were soft, and his mouth tasted minty. You weren't counting the seconds and hoping he wasn't, either. You knew you were pushing it when you brought your tongue into the equation, but he'd already given in to you. He allowed the tip of his tongue to meet yours.

He pulled away first. Quickly, so you couldn't catch him and pull him back in.

"You happy now?" he asked, much more amused than annoyed.

You stared at him, seeing stars already.

"I think that was only 10 seconds." The edges of lips curved upwards slowly.

"Oh really? I think it was at least a minute."

"I was counting."

"No, you were not."

Despite protesting, he was still sitting in your bed, laughing with you.

"But Leon-"

"But what, princess?" He cocked his head to the side, taunting you.

You were out of bargaining chips. You'd played every card that wasn't flat-out begging him.

"Did you at least think it was good?" you asked, needing his approval more than anything.

"It was great." He sounded sincere, and you hoped that he meant it more than anything.

"Really? You promise you'd never lie to me?" you held out your pinky and he took it in his.

"Promise," he said.

When he was about to stand up, you said, "But if it was good, then why don't you want more?"

He flopped back on your bed and sighed in exasperation. "Because it's not appropriate."

"But that doesn't mean you don't want it."

"No, but it doesn't matter. I'm the adult in the situation, and I'm telling you it's a bad idea."

"I'm the adult, too, and I think it's a great idea."

"Well, I have more experience than you, and I know it's a bad idea."

"If you have more experience, then you can help me."

"How many more arguments do you have? Just hit me with all of them so I can give you a collective 'no,' and then we can both go to bed."

You could see his frustrations dueling in his mind. He was tired of your arguing, but the more frustrated he got at you, still sitting next to him in a tiny pink nightgown, the more he wanted you. His gentle, sweet sexual fantasies about you were being replaced by rougher ones. He knew that if he told you to turn around and get on all fours, you'd do it. He could spank you as punishment for your naughty behavior, and you'd like it.

"I was going to resort to begging next."

"And you think that would break me?"

"It always does."

"Because I have a weak spot for you," he paused, "and because you usually aren't asking me for sex."

"Who said I was asking for sex?"

He glared at you, knowing that was exactly what you wanted.

"You said that you lost your virginity at my age," you said, hoping your reasoning would make sense to him.

"And?" He understood, but that didn't mean he agreed.

"I don't want to be a virgin anymore. I wanna be cool like you, Leon."

You'd told him that before, wearing his leather jacket that was too big for you, waddling around the house as a kindergartner.

"Well, then find a nice guy - or girl - your age and do that on your own time."

"But I want you."

He closed his eyes, resigning himself to the fact that he might have to give into you while he still wanted you gently. Otherwise, with your track record, you'd get him to concede to your wishes, but only after losing self-control, which was the only thing holding him back from tying you to the headboard.

"You don't know this yet because you haven't had this experience yet, but it's hard not to get attached to the first person you're with."

"And? We're already close."

"Not like that, though. We're not dating, not married, and we never will be. I'm trying to protect you."

"I'm not proposing marriage."

"Thank god."

"You've protected me from everything my whole life. Now I'm an adult, and I want to choose. Remember when I was little, you used to say, 'I'll tell you when you're older' or 'When you're an adult, you can make your own choices'? I'm not your responsibility anymore, Leon."

"You never were." He took your hand because he still loved you despite it all. "I care about you, so I can't let you get hurt, but I also can't be with you. And things aren't going to be the same if we do this."

"I promise I'll be okay. I can handle it."

He sat silently for a moment before finally saying, "You're not going to tell your dad, right?"

"No, god no, never."

"You're not going to brag to your friends?"

"Are you saying I'd want to brag? That you're worthy of such high praise?"

"I'd like to think I'm decent at it."

"Is this you agreeing?" Your eyes lit up the way they did whenever you got your way.

"I'm exhausted, you're in a tiny nightgown, and you're begging. I'm powerless against you."

"And I thought that Leon Kennedy could have me pinned down in under a second."

"Is that what you'd like?"

"Maybe." At this point, you were hovering over him, one leg outside each of his. You sat down, straddling him, and he struggled to keep a straight face.

"Have you done anything before?" He asked.

You made a lewd gesture, indicating that you'd performed oral sex on a guy before.

"You're gonna have to be more mature than that if we're gonna do this."

"Fine. I sucked a guy's dick once." You didn't want to be so vulgar, but how else were you supposed to say it?

"Good for you." Leon pretended to be unimpressed, but in truth, he was thinking about the view that guy must've gotten. How perfect you'd look on your knees.

"No, good for him."

"He didn't reciprocate?"

Leon's hands were gripping your hips. You couldn't tell if he wanted you to move or if he was trying to keep you still.

"That's too bad. You're a good girl. You deserve it."

"A good girl?" Your voice faltered, and your eyes said it all.

"Yes, a very good girl." He leaned down and caught your mouth in a quick kiss.

Even looming over you, he looked hesitant to touch you, like you were too delicate and fragile.

"You wanna take this off?" he asked, toying with the hem of your nightgown.

"Only if you agree to take your shirt off."

"Deal."

He sat up and took his shirt off. You could see how his arms flexed when he did it and his now-exposed chest and abs.

"How do you look so good at your age?" You meant to keep that thought to yourself, but your mouth had a mind of its own. As you spoke, you ran your hands down his chest, noting that his body felt as lovely as it looked.

"I'm not sure if I should be offended that you called me old or flattered that you think I look good."

"You look hot."

"You gonna hold up your end of the deal?"

You sat up and removed your nightgown, revealing a tiny white thong with a little bow.

"Cute," he mused, playing with the bow.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I had to guess."

"You did a great job."

His large hands cupped one of your now-exposed breasts in each hand, thumbs running over your nipples, making you shiver.

He hummed in satisfaction at your reaction. Seeing your face flush, he said, "Don't be embarrassed, princess."

You didn't have time to answer before his lips were on yours again, making their way down your neck, stopping to whisper into your ear.

"Promise you'll tell me if I do anything you don't like?"

"Promise."

With open-mouthed kisses, he made his way down to your chest, letting his tongue circle each nipple, looking for weaknesses. It wasn't hard to find them. You were soaking through the thin lace of your panties.

Feeling Leon's lips on your tits, you let out a small moan and tried to cover any others up with a hand over your mouth. Leon removed your hand and said, "Mm-mm. If I do this for you, you can't cover your mouth. I wanna hear your pretty noises."

He made his way to the hem of your panties. The lace barely covered anything. You felt him lap at your folds through the fabric, making you gasp.

"Can I take them off?"

"Uh-huh."

He looked up into your eyes, which had no thoughts behind them other than how much you needed this. He removed your panties, teasing you with kisses on your hip bones and thighs, wanting to see if you'd beg for a feeling you'd never felt.

He made eye contact while he flicked his tongue over your clit, anticipating your strong reaction. You threw your head back and gripped the sheets.

"Already, princess? I've barely even done anything to you," He mumbled into your skin.

There were infinite combinations of words in the English language that could accurately describe your embarrassment, but they were all out of reach, as pleasure had taken your mind hostage.

When Leon had imagined this moment - and yeah, he'd imagined it, filled with such intense lust and followed by an even larger wave of guilt - he'd imagined his fingers inside you by this point. But, now, he was just letting his tongue glide along your folds, trying to tease you, trying to taste you, trying to burn a memory onto his mental hard drive of this moment. He pressed a kiss to your clit and watched as your eyes rolled back and you arched your body off the bed. He'd never seen a woman so sensitive, though. He'd never done anything with a virgin before. Most of the women he'd hooked up with in the past decade were in their 30s.

"Leon," You whined.

"I know, baby girl. Let go for me," he said softly, looking into your eyes with a loving gaze.

He sucked lightly on your clit, leading you through your orgasm. The intense sensation coursed through your entire body, making your thighs tremble, and your moans turn into sobs.

"Oh my god. Daddy!" In the heat of the moment, it just came out.

Leon didn't pull away, despite his surprise - truthfully, he couldn't have because your thighs kept him in a headlock. You could've suffocated him, maybe even broken his neck like that, but he was strong enough that he could push your legs apart if he really needed to breathe. Not that he cared very much. Leon had faced death enough times to know that this would've been one of the best ways to go. He'd take his chances if it meant he got an extra minute between your thighs.

"Daddy, huh? Thought you were an innocent little girl. Shoulda known better."

"Sorry. It was just so good, and I wasn't thinking."

"I know, princess. I'm glad I could make you feel good."

He kissed each cheek and your forehead. The way he'd always done when he put you to bed.

"You wanna go to bed now?" he asked. You couldn't tell if he wanted a 'yes' or a 'no'. The smile on his face was the same as it always was - happy and warm and honest. It was the same look he'd given you when he'd said goodnight to you for decades. He wanted you to sleep because he cared about you but didn't mind having you stay up because he loved you.

"No, I don't wanna go to bed," you said, reaching down to palm him through his sweatpants.

He gave you a look of arousal poorly concealed by hesitation to take things any further.

"I don't wanna hurt you," he said.

You pouted, and he was defenseless.

"Always get what you want," he said under his breath.

You hooked your thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants, and he took them off.

When you tried to go for his underwear, he said, "Yeah, yeah. Gimme a second."

He got out of bed, and you whined.

"I'll be right there." He feigned annoyance, but he obviously still found you cute.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for my wallet. It's probably in the other room."

He went to your guest room next door, and you were initially confused, worried he'd left you. Until he came back with a condom held between two fingers.

"Did you know this was going to happen?"

"No, but I'm always prepared."

It was the truth. No way in Hell did he ever think this would happen when he came to your house.

"Would you ever do it without one?"

"If you're proposing that, the answer is absolutely not."

Secretly, you both wished for him to be inside you without the rubber barrier. You watched him pull out his dick and slip on the condom unceremoniously as if this wasn't the most important moment of your life thus far.

He caught you ogling. "What? Impressed or disappointed?"

He knew the answer. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten that kind of reaction.

"Do you think it's gonna fit?" you asked.

"No need to flatter me, sweetheart. You've already got me in bed."

"I'm being serious."

"I'll go slow," he assured you, voice quiet and sweet.

He brushed his thumb across your cheek. He kissed you with such tenderness you felt like you might melt.

You got a rush of adrenaline watching him line himself up at your entrance. Both from excitement and nerves. You truly were worried about whether it would fit inside you.

The first thrust was a bit painful - nothing excruciating, just a bit of discomfort - but Leon, worried about you, immediately pulled back and asked, "What's wrong, baby girl? Did I hurt you?"

You nodded meekly and made the "little bit" sign with your pointer and thumb.

"Okay. Lemme try something else then."

At this point, he had pulled entirely out of you, and he started to play with your clit lazily while gazing at your face. All discomfort faded from your expression and was replaced by pleasure. He had you nearly writhing again over such minimal contact.

In his deep, silky voice, he said, "Open," pushing two fingers into your mouth, making sure he didn't go too far and make you gag.

You knew he wanted you to wet them for him, but you decided to give him a little show, too. You looked into his eyes while sucking his fingers, swirling your tongue around them. You could tell he was trying to keep his composure, but you could feel his dick twitch against your leg.

Though he was enjoying the sight, he removed his fingers from your mouth and pushed them, one, then both, into you and gently stroked your inner walls. His other hand was tending to your clit all the while, and you began to feel the pressure in your abdomen rise again. It must've shown on your face because he started pumping his fingers in and out of you with greater force until you were teetering on the edge of a second orgasm. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and he promptly took them away.

"Why did you do that?" You whined with tears, acting like it was the greatest betrayal.

"It's okay, princess. I'm gonna let you come. I wanna be inside you when you do, though."

You felt the head prodding at your entrance; the only thing you felt was a desire for more. The feeling of being stretched out took a moment to adjust to, but it felt good to be filled. He gently gave himself to you inch by inch.

"You're doing so good for me, princess."

"Daddy?" you said in a voice neither of you had ever heard before.

"Yes, baby?" Leon's breath hitched. It didn't matter how wrong it was; it was too good.

I love you. Those were the words you wanted to say, and 'I love you, Leon' was something you'd said a thousand times, but it was never 'Daddy, I love you' - and it was never during sex, obviously.

"Thank you," you said - for what? You weren't sure, but Leon seemed to get the gist.

He didn't say anything, just smiled and then pressed a kiss to your cheek, still thrusting in and out of you, speeding up when he knew you could take it.

The face Leon made when he bottomed out inside you was a heavenly sight. It made you tighten around him, eliciting a low groan from him. He took one hand from beside your head and slid it down between your thighs, touching you where you needed it most. The feeling of him rubbing your clit as he fucked you made your pussy spasm around him.

"Gonna be a good girl and come for Daddy?" he asked.

"Oh my god, Daddy!" You nearly screamed when you came.

Leon did his best to hide his feelings about that word, maintaining the rhythm of his thrusts, thumb not leaving your clit. The physical sensation of you clenching around him nearly sent him over the edge with you, but the conflicting feelings that 'Daddy' gave him held him back. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

If you'd told him before that moment that you wanted to call him 'Daddy,' he would've thought it was odd, but watching your eyes roll back and feeling your nails dig into his back as you said it made it sexy.

Once your orgasm subsided, he allowed himself to let go. Your eyes fluttered back open just in time to watch his face as he came.

"Fuck," he groaned, drawn out, followed by heavy breaths.

You were still a bit dazed when he got up, threw the condom in the trash, and immediately collapsed beside you. You were greeted with a kiss on the forehead once you returned to Earth.

Leon stopped himself from saying, "I love you," even though you'd both said it to each other a thousand times over the years. The fact remained that both of you loved each other, but the specificities of that love had now become blurry.

At the risk of embarrassing you, he asked, "So, the whole 'Daddy' thing?"

"I'm sorry. Did it weird you out?"

"I wouldn't put it like that."

"You can just say it did."

"No, it's just – it feels wrong considering the circumstances."

"Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have let myself get that carried away."

"There's no reason to be embarrassed about it. It wasn't a turn-off. I still came, so the proof is… well, it's in your trash can."

You smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood, but your face was still bright red.

"You really shouldn't feel bad about it. It's no big deal."

"But it is. You said it - because…"

You couldn't say, "You're like a second father to me," or anything else that came to mind. The whole thing simultaneously made more and less sense. Of course, he was 'Daddy' in your mind, but in more ways than one.

"I know," he said simply. You didn't need to finish your sentence for him to understand.

"Can you hold me?" You asked, getting teary-eyed for reasons more complicated than you could verbalize. Overstimulation, overwhelming pleasure, a closeness beyond what you'd ever felt with someone before, the sense that things had changed for good, concern that this had caused irreparable damage to whatever bond you'd had, but most of all, how angry you were at your real dad.

"Of course, baby girl, c'mere," Leon said with arms wide open. He sat up in bed, knowing what you wanted. You sat in his lap and clung to him while he held you tightly.

"I can't believe he couldn't even be here for my birthday," you sobbed, still naked in Leon's lap.

"I know, and I'm sorry, princess. I'm upset about it, too."

He pressed little kisses into your hair.

You wondered if maybe Leon was right: you had gotten attached to him, but this part was always going to happen. In every reality, you would've ended up crying in his arms.

All the emotions you tried to keep inside came out of your tear ducts at once, and you felt like a little girl.

You got up eventually to pee because Leon forced you to. He put his pants back on and was about to do the same with his shirt when you asked, "Can I have it?"

"Yeah."

He threw it to you, not even thinking the same thing you were. He'd given girlfriends and hookups t-shirts to wear to bed, but it had nothing to do with sex at this moment; you needed the comfort you always would have. It was like a hug from him. The way you'd sleep in your dad's room when he wasn't home, just to feel like he was there.

You got into your bed, still wearing Leon's shirt, and he got up to leave, as he was supposed to, as you knew he would. Sleeping with you was never part of the agreement, but your eyes flooded with tears when you watched him leave.

"Goodnight," he said at the door.

You were too choked up to say it back. Leon waited for you to speak, knowing what you'd say.

"Don't leave, please," you said, crying, not pouting, not whining, but crying. Leon remembered when you were a kid, and he slept on your bedroom floor because you didn't want to be alone. Because you cried and begged him not to leave, and he felt awful seeing your tears, knowing your mom walked out and your dad was rarely there, knowing that - whether you understood it or not - you meant, 'don't leave me like everyone else.' Leon couldn't do that to you, couldn't leave a neglected little girl alone. As he'd told you, he didn't have to do this by any obligation other than a self-imposed one. Sleeping in your bed right now was dangerous - your father could walk in, you could get the wrong idea and get more attached, you could try to go for round two - but, if you hadn't had sex, if he'd done the right thing in the first place and said no, you'd still have been crying in his arms, you'd still ask him to stay. The right thing to do would be to stay.

He nodded and climbed into bed with you, letting you rest your head on his chest.

Leon was right: you were so very attached to him.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #fics #miss oranje fics

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gothcsz · 2 months ago

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wip tag game 🖤 tysm @almostempty & @auteurdelabre for the taggggg

rules: list the names/titles of docs in your wip folder + open your inbox to asks about them! 💌

palvi phone sex for thoroughfare

chapter xix for thoroughfare

partition for fantasize series (javi x gatita limo sex on their wedding night)

supernatural for fantasize series (javi x gatita x f!oc threesome on halloween night)

interrogation threesome with @miss-oranje-disco-dancer (javi x steve x f!reader)

pornstar!javi drabble (f!reader gives in just a little but not all the way… i’m thinking he goes down on her 🤭)

onlyfans!javi pt 2 (f!reader wins his face reveal contest and gets to fuck him on camera)

bodyguard!javi x politician’s daughter!reader for em’s trope-off!

my dear melancholy fic outline (javi x stripper/informant!reader)

#🏷️ tag games.#will they get done in a reasonable time? who knows!#wistful thinking i fear

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ragingclaw · 10 months ago

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I keep on making these to put on Scrivener for inspiration for my fic that is halfway finished I ended up making myself (first avatar) and I just noticed how I resemble my OCs in some way.

Anyway, I'm almost rocking Miss Oranje Disco Dancer's hair (I don't have the strength to have bangs yet) as a part of my soft era.

#akin #sdv oc #stardew valley oc

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chetchad · 1 month ago

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🅂🅃🄰🄸🄽🅂

MDNI 18+

(uncle!Brad Vickers x niece!reader)

KINKTOBER DAY 6; (incest, one sided attraction, panty stealing)

WC; 1k

CWs; (uncle/niece incest, panty stealing, panty sniffing, inappropriate use of panties, m!masturbation, guilt, dead dove; do not eat, reader is in a relationship with chris, age gap(s) 20/35 and 20/25, nipple piercings, reader is a bimbo, slightly edited)

@miss-oranje-disco-dancer you said that you'd like to be tagged in my next brad fic, so I did <3 (no pressure to read if it doesn't sound interesting or something you're just not into)

Ecstatic was an understatement.

Brad was practically bouncing on his feet in excitement, looking around the airport for the little booger he had not seen in too long. Last time he saw you, you were twelve and had gotten your first period when you were staying with him for a few weeks to give your parents a well deserved break.

It had been eight years since he saw his little niece, you're around twenty now. A real troublemaker who's running her parents up the wall. They assumed that some time with your cop uncle would probably help with this little rebellious streak you seemed to be having.

Which was sort of dumb. Your father did the same thing. Hell, he was even younger when he was sneaking out and getting hammered.

But that's my babygirl, little brother. It's fascinating that she hasn't gotten knocked up yet!

Brad's older brother's words echoed in his mind. Messed up that your own father is amazed that you aren't spreading your legs for any and every guy.

“Brad?” A feminine voice asked behind him.

Brad turned around, his eyes closed, and a big grin on his lips.

“Booger–” Brad's voice hitched when he opened his eyes.

Sure, you have gotten older. But Brad was still expecting that same little twelve year old. Not…this.

The tube top squeezed your chest nicely, clearly showing off those cute little rods that ran through your peaked nips. The micro skirt left barely anything for the imagination. Hugging your plush thighs so tightly, leaving cute little indents in its wake.

Brad was in shock, trying to ignore the twitch in his pants from the provocative sight.

Fuck. This was going to be a long summer.

For the next few weeks, Brad started picking up on your less…desirable traits. You were very dependent on him. You couldn't even use the fucking toaster without almost crying from stress.

As soon as you had shown up to the office one day, asking for some money. Brad could see the lust in the boys' eyes. Minus Wesker, Barry, Enrico, Edward, and Kenneth. Three of which were happily married, one was gay, and Brad is convinced that Wesker hates everyone.

But the others, were practically eye-fucking you in that little getup.

Brad was conflicted. You were still the little girl who called him bud from the ages of two to eight. Sure, seventeen year old Brad was annoyed by it. But twenty-three year old Brad thought it was the cutest thing.

You were the little girl who he taught to tie her shoelaces.

Ride a bike.

Make her bed.

Fold a fitted sheet.

Who made him the maid of honor for her imaginary wedding? You.

Who cried on him when you were bleeding out of your vagina for the first time? You.

You were his little girl.

Were.

Brad had been fighting his desires. But when he stumbled across one of your dirty panties in the bathroom, Brad just grabbed it and ran to his room.

Brown eyes wide, Brad stared down at the flimsy fabric you called underwear. His breath hitched when he saw the dried patches of something on the gusset.

Brad had a hunch it was…reminiscents of Chris. The two of you were running around together now.

Running a hand through his brunet locks, Brad hesitantly brought the used panties to his nose, giving a little sniff.

Brad's eyes rolled back almost immediately, his other hand clenching his pant leg. His cock was straining against the fabric of his pajama pants, begging for attention.

The smell was intoxicating. Sweet and heady. Obvious hints of cum from Chris- not like Brad knows what Chris's cum smells like. But he assumes it all smells remotely alike.

With a small shudder, Brad ran his pink tongue along the tiny gusset of the thong. He had to bite back a moan immediately, the almost overwhelming taste making his head spin.

“Don't be a perv, Brad. That's your niece you're thinking about.” Brad scolded himself, holding the fabric away from his face.

Fuck, you looked so pretty in that little skirt.

Those little rods through the pretty peaks on your breasts drove him wild.

Brad could only think about wrapping his lips around the sensitive nub, tongue toying with the piercing while he finger fucked that little cunt of yours. Considering who much Chris groaned when he was in your room, Brad figured you were tight as fucking hell.

Brad didn't even realize he was palming himself through his pants, subtle tings of pleasure biting his lower back and heat pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“B-baby…” his voice was shuddery and weak, a hand slipping in his sweats, gripping his weepy cock and gently pumping it.

Soft little ‘paps’ of skin meeting skin echoed with Brad's whiney sounds of ecstasy. The soiled panties were firmly against his nose, inhaling the strong scent of something he'll never get to have.

“Fuck…” Brad's words were hissed, his butt now touching his bed while he reached into the bedside drawer.

Pulling out the bottle of purple lube, he popped the cap open and poured a generous amount in the panties, before closing the lube and tossing it aside. With quick movements, Brad closed the now slicked up panties around his throbbing cock.

“A-ah fuck!” Brad cussed, tossing his head back and fisting the thong around his weepy prick.

In Brad's head, all he could think about was you. Those plump tits and thighs. God, he'd love to have those thighs crush his skull while he lapped like a little puppy at the sweet heat between your legs. Or play with those mounds of fat and tissue on your chest while he’s stressed or overstimulated, gently flicking and pinching the little nubs with the rods.

Brad's hand moved with experience, probably having jerked off more times in his life than anyone can count. Soft little hisses and groans left his lips, watching his poor tip get redder with every moment he didn't cum.

Brad grunted, feeling his balls tighten up close to his body, the coil snapping. Sweet little ropes of spunk filled the messy panties while he panted, guilt and post-orgasm bliss mixed together in a dangerous motley.

“...damnit.” It was soft and self-disciplined, “You're a disgusting man, Vickers…”

#smut #brad vickers x reader #brad vickers smut #tw dead dove #tw incest #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #kinktober #brad vickers

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porcelainseashore · 4 months ago

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Into the Ether (14)

Series Masterlist

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

Author's Note: Drug and mild gore references ahead. I’m back from sailing around the Norwegian islands, which made me realise how much I missed outdoor activities, especially in the summer! As I’ll be engaging in more of that and playing in two VtM campaigns, I have less time for writing overall. So, I won't be able to update this fic regularly, though I intend to finish the story. For everyone who has been following me this far, thanks a million for your support! I hope you continue to enjoy my writings, however spontaneous they may be ❤️

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer @delulusimps @g0thesqe ✨

AO3 Link

Chapter 14: Renegade

It was the first time you’d jolted violently awake, no sweat, your body frigid and gray. Your eyes snapped to the digital clock by the bedside, its angry red numericals burning white spots into your retina. The sun had already set, but it was still early. Leon hadn’t moved a muscle.

Quick steps along the stairs, your feet were light and hurried, as you peered around the apartment to check if everything was in order. It was.

You fiddled with the remote, opening the shutters so that you could view the night sky. Was it intact too? Shades of lavender spread across the horizon, merging with rich indigos in the encroaching darkness. You could already spot a multitude of faint stars emerging in the background. A pale crescent moon hung overhead.

Nothing seemed out of place, but you couldn't shake the uneasiness that had plagued you since rising from your slumber. No, wait, that wasn’t right. You remembered dreaming, but you couldn’t recall what about. It wasn’t normal for corpses to dream, was it? You were sure it wasn’t the Abyss or the Beast speaking to you, so were there other causes that Leon hadn’t known and informed you about?

Instead of pursuing it any further, you grabbed a blood bag from the fridge and emptied its contents into your mouth, not even bothering to use a glass. You would’ve hunted tonight, but Rebecca had required both of you to be present in advance to prepare the ritual chamber before the prisoner would be brought in.

You heard him lumbering down the stairwell, lethargic and sluggish, like he’d willed himself to wake up before his usual time because of you. Leaning his weight against your back, he snaked his arms around your waist, mumbling incoherently into the crook of your neck, “Nervous about the appointment?”

Placing one hand over his grasp and the other around his head, you massaged his scalp languidly as he hummed with satisfaction. “Just a bad dream,” you sighed, downplaying the pervasive, ominous feeling that had lingered.

He twitched, an obvious sign of his concern about what you had revealed. “Hmm, that doesn’t usually happen; not that I’ve heard of anyway.” His voice was nonchalant, but you could detect an uneven stammer at its edges.

Turning you around to face him, he tilted your chin towards him, his eyes veiled with worry. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I would, but my mind’s coming up blank,” you admitted in frustration. “It just feels like something’s gonna go wrong.”

He drew you in, clinging to you staunchly as he whispered against your chilled skin, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

“I know,” you whispered back, your crisp breath tickling his collarbone. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know,” he echoed.

You allowed yourself to melt fully into him, savoring a moment of peace where time seemed to be suspended. Both of you understood they were rare and hard to come by in these nights, especially with your journey ahead.

When you breathed again, he hoisted you up effortlessly, carrying you in his arms as he returned to where you came from. He excused it as “snoozing for a bit longer” in bed, though you did anything but.

And all too soon, it was time to go, but his scent and mark on you still remained.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Oh, I’ll handle that,” Rebecca said, taking the unusual apparatus out of your hands as she set them aside. “No offense, but they’re kinda delicate.”

She handed you a bunch of trinkets and a musty cloth with occult sigils imprinted on it. “Maybe you could lay these out instead? Just follow the shape in this diagram.”

You studied details on the page she was pointing at a leather bound manuscript, attempting to replicate the same design on the floor. Leon was busy speaking with Jill, placating her as she grumbled about not being allowed to be present at the scene when the ritual took place.

Rebecca had insisted on you being her guide and for Leon to keep watch outside, so there would be no interference. After all, it was the two of you who were personally assigned by the Prince to take on this task, and not the Sheriff. The fewer people around in the ritual chamber, the better chance Rebecca had of completing it successfully.

“I actually learnt this ritual from a Tremere Thinblood, well, I guess they’re all just Thinbloods to the Prince,” she revealed, smiling wistfully as she mixed the contents within an apparatus. “I just tweaked it a bit so that you could focus on specific memories, piecing them together, rather than relying on the whims and fancies of what the Kindred deemed as important.”

“You’re not called an expert for nothing,” you pointed out, smiling back at her while you worked. “What happened to the Thinblood anyway?”

You weren’t optimistic, after all, the Thinbloods or Duskborn were those whose blood were too diluted from Caine to be considered as part of ‘normal’ Kindred society. They were the weakest, but also the most lifelike of all vampires. Jealousy and fear made them direct targets of everyone else, particularly the Camarilla.

She heaved an audible sigh, pausing her intricate preparations for a moment. “Destroyed by the Scourge, along with his sire.”

Though she could not voice her opinion on the matter, you could tell that she did not agree with the outcome the Prince had dictated. From what Leon had told you, the Scourge reported directly to Wesker and was somewhat regarded as his personal executioner. It was also a backup option in case Jill ever strayed from her loyalty. In this case, weeding out the Thinbloods was one of their duties, and that made your disdain for the Prince grow.

“It’s a shame, since he was so talented,” she added quietly, just loud enough for you to hear.

You threw her a sympathetic glance, mouthing an apology which she acknowledged gratefully. Then, she walked over to check on how you were getting on before asking, “You ever been on a drug trip before?”

“What?” you choked, slightly taken aback by the sudden change in subject. “Um, sure, yeah…?”

“Great, well, this is something like that,” she continued as if it were part of everyday conversation. “I’ll be incapacitated, so you’ll need to make sure that I’m where I’m supposed to be while in Memoriam. As you’re my only link to the tangible world, I’ll need your reassurances every now and then through voice and touch. That’ll prevent me from slipping away.”

You nodded. It sounded easy enough.

“And, uh, you’ll have to watch the timer,” she instructed, handing over an analogue alarm clock to you. “It is absolutely crucial that I’m back and awake by the 15-minute mark, otherwise weird shit starts to happen.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged indifferently. “Mental trauma at the very least.”

You guffawed in disbelief, realizing this was no joking matter. “And at the very worst?”

“Permanent torpor.”

“Jesus!” you blurted out. “Rebecca, are you—”

“I’ll be fine.” She squeezed your shoulder, seemingly still in good spirits. “Just remember to start reviving me a few minutes in advance.”

“Everything alright back there?” Leon called out, eyeing your discussion curiously. Jill had disappeared.

“Yeah, we’re good to go,” Rebecca commented with a thumbs up sign.

Eventually, Jill returned with the prisoner in tow, scarred and dragged around by the chains. He was no longer thrashing about like what you had witnessed in the video recording, but mute, as his will had been broken. You could see it in his listless eyes; he was a slave who had accepted whatever fate befell him. It sickened you to the core that Jill had tortured him to the extent that Final Death was considered the most peaceful option. However, if what Rebecca had promised was correct, you knew you had made the right decision.

“Hunnigan and I will be watching from the monitors,” Jill commented gruffly as she bolted the prisoner in place to a reinforced anchor on the floor, positioned just in the middle of the markings you had made with the materials provided to you earlier. “So you better not try anything funny, usurper.”

It was a pointed remark aimed at Rebecca, but the Tremere took it in her stride, offering nothing but a polite wave as Jill exited the room.

“Ladies,” Leon nodded to the both of you courteously. “I’ll be on the other end of this door. Stay safe, please.” The last word was drawn out, almost pleading, as the blue of his irises flickered, holding your gaze.

“We will,” you asserted, as he tore his eyes away from you, reluctantly closing the door behind him with a secure click.

You followed Rebecca, making sure you stayed by her side every step of the way. Lighting a row of candles on the altar table, she held out the apparatus containing the liquid she had prepared, chanting in a language that sounded ancient and otherworldly — none that you could recognize. The liquid thickened and congealed, sizzling as she clutched the apparatus close to her heart, using her fingers to stir the contents as the black concoction clung to her skin like tar. Steam rose from it, and though it appeared to be scalding hot, she was not affected. She did not burn nor yelp in pain. Her eyes glazed over white, glowing like a jackal’s at night.

The captive mourned aloud as she drew symbols on his face, as if he were crying for the loss of his unlife and knew that his Final Death was near. You felt terrible for him then, but you suppressed the urge to stop the ritual, knowing that whatever awaited him at Jill's hands instead would be far worse.

Finally, Rebecca took a lit candle, dousing its fire into the liquid which sparked a brilliant white flame, so dazzling that it hurt to look at it. There was a deafening whoosh and smash as she flung the apparatus to the ground in front of the captive, and he lit up like a bonfire, just like the one you had seen the night you died. However, there were no smoke or screams. Like an illusory magic trick, the Kindred had vanished into thin air, leaving only pale gray ashes in his wake.

She looked at you knowingly before sinking to her knees as you accompanied her. Feeding the ashes hungrily into her mouth, she devoured them whole as though it were her last meal. Powered dust swirled around the room, glittering under the dim sources of light. The more she stuffed into her mouth, the more she coughed and gagged, but she didn’t let up. The ashes decorated her chin like parched chalk and the rot of death, flaking and peeling off as others took their place.

Soon, she slackened, her movements stuttering like a malfunctioning machine as her body turned rigid. Her eyes rolled towards the back of her head as she slumped into your outstretched arms. Gently, you laid her down within the marked out area where the Kindred had been confined earlier.

“I’m here,” you murmured, holding her hand as you kept an eye on the clock.

There was no response. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought she was a mummified carcass, a relic waiting to be found and entombed in some museum halfway across the world. You reassured yourself that this was just the beginning, and you didn’t need to worry yet.

Time seemed to pass by excruciatingly slowly, like the fluid from an IV drip gradually entering the body through a network of catheters and needles, the effects of which you could never feel until it was too late. Every so often, you stroked Rebecca’s hand, verbally reminding her she had a place to return to. However, you were met with blank silence, and it seemed as though you had gone crazy and were talking to yourself.

By now, the ten-minute mark had been reached and there was still no sign of her coming back. At the moment, there was enough buffer time for you to revive her, and you prayed that this wouldn’t end up any worse.

Tapping her cheek lightly, you called out, “Rebecca? Can you hear me? There’s only five minutes left, you need to start waking up.”

At first, you merely coaxed her, but as each minute passed, your taps and voice grew more urgent. However, she remained out cold. Why was she taking so long? What was holding her back?

Three minutes remaining. Not good.

You broke out into short, rapid little breaths. “Come on, Rebecca?” You were shaking her lifeless body now. “If you can’t find the rest of them, just leave it!”

Two minutes. Shit!

Your heart raced in fear and your nerves fired up as you doubled down on your efforts to bring her back into the real world. Nothing was going to stop you from doing so.

Meanwhile, Leon had been waiting patiently outside the chamber. So far, things were mind numbingly boring and quiet, which was good. Why Rebecca had requested him to physically stand watch at the location baffled him. There wasn’t anything the cameras wouldn’t be able to catch, and not to mention, the security systems in Elysium were top-notch. However, she seemed to trust Kindred instincts more.

Then, he heard some noises coming from inside the room. Focusing his senses, he heard your frantic voice yelling at Rebecca, trying to rouse her from her comatose state. Before he could head in to help you, the light beams flickered, as if the power had been cut for a split second.

He glanced up, noticing that someone had killed the cameras. They weren’t blinking red anymore. His muscles tensed, instinctively shifting into a combat stance as he readied himself for the incoming intruder.

Just as he predicted, a blurred figure from the corner of his eye whizzed past. Sharpening his reflexes, he timed his move, reaching out to grab the culprit by their arm. All at once, he came face-to-face with the last person he wanted to be stuck in a corridor with.

“Ada? What the hell?” he snarled, finally piecing together the last parts of the puzzle. “I should’ve known…”

“You never should’ve underestimated your sire,” she tutted coyly, running her other hand up his chest provocatively.

He recoiled from her touch in disgust, throwing the hand he had seized back at her. “The Prince will have your head for this!” he hissed.

“Resorting to threats now, are we?” she laughed derisively. “Well, don’t worry, I can always counter with my own.”

Grazing a stiletto fingernail along the pulse point of his neck, she leaned in and whispered suggestively, “If you and your childe want to live to see another night, you better listen to what I have to say.”

She cocked her head, peering behind Leon at the door as she narrowed her eyes. “And from the sounds of it, she doesn’t have much time…”

“We should go in,” she decided, stepping forward, only for him to block her path.

“Ada, I don’t know what fucking mind game you’re playing, but I swear to god, if you so much as lay a finger on her, I will—”

She sighed in vexation, interrupting him as she patted his chest condescendingly. “Relax, big boy.”

Taking his hand, she pressed it against the touchpad, and the door slid open. Instantly, they were greeted by the sore sight of you desperately trying to revive Rebecca. There was only one minute left before she would be in trouble.

“For fuck’s sake—”

And that’s when you looked up, your eyes darting between the two Kindred in a mixture of complete shock and confusion.

“Ada?” you exclaimed. “Leon? The fuck—”

“Ada!” A voice next to you screeched, choking and sputtering as if she was recovering from nearly drowning underwater. “You… Heisenberg… the Baker boy… you’re planning a coup. But why?”

30 seconds. You shut off the timer. That was close, way too close.

Despite the chaos and her accusations, you’d never been more relieved to see Rebecca back to life. You pulled her in hastily for a quick hug, before turning to the rest for a much-warranted explanation.

“We only have a few minutes until Jill storms in. Hunnigan is stalling her, so I’ll make this quick.” Ada sauntered towards you with cat-like grace, while Leon trailed behind watching her suspiciously. “The Prince is getting too big for his own shoes. Even I know that the benefits of working with the Anarchs, as long as they’re kept at an arm’s length, outweigh the cons. Unfortunately for Wesker, greed will be his downfall.”

Squatting down beside you and Rebecca, she stated, “You see, I just happened to stumble upon his plans to exterminate every single one of the Anarchs here in Raccoon City, so that he can rule uncontested.”

Nodding in Leon’s direction, she addressed him, “All the time you spent with them, along with his sending you as his emissary, allowed him to gather valuable information about your friends from you.”

He shook his head in abhorrence, huffing, “You’re saying, he used me as a spy?”

Instead of responding directly, she mentioned, “Of course, to keep up appearances, he couldn’t actually have you defecting to them. Though with the increase in SI presence recently, he sensed an opportunity to redirect the threat towards Heisenberg and his crew.”

Idly inspecting the apparatus that Rebecca had dropped when she fell unconscious, she chucked it aside when she found nothing of interest. “Foolish and reckless,” she criticized. “So we’ll give him a taste of his own medicine.”

“And you expect us to trust you?” Leon spat, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he glanced between the door and Ada.

“No,” she replied simply. “But you still have a boon to pay, and your missing vessel.” She flashed you a malevolent smile as Leon drew closer, situating himself between you and his sire defensively.

Before Rebecca could speak her mind, Ada cut in, “Your Primogen is ready to finish what Glenn started if you decide to take matters into your own hands.” That caused her to shut her mouth and sink back in defeat.

So, there were others in the Camarilla who were in on this as well, you figured. In spite of the odds, you pushed back, detesting the woman’s methods from the start. “Let me guess, you have something to threaten me with too?” you jeered.

Leaning in, she sniffed your neck deliberately and simpered, “Mmm, I can smell him on you. How wonderful it must be to still enjoy such humanly pleasures…”

“Ada…” Leon warned, but she waved him off dismissively.

“With you, my dear, I wouldn’t need to lift a finger,” she gloated confidently. “No one’s going to believe a fledgling, especially without proof. And even if they do, would you really choose to endanger your beloved sire for lying?”

She was relentless, refusing to wait for your answer as she questioned rhetorically, “Or are you particularly fond of Wesker? Seeing as you know what he’s capable of.”

It was true that you held nothing but disdain for the man, given how he had treated you from day one, setting you up to fail with his ‘tests’ and what he had done to Leon with Sherry. Maybe it was time for him to go, you found yourself agreeing with Ada, in somewhat abject horror. But were there really any better candidates to take his place?

“Think about it,” she said, getting up as she ambled towards the side of the room. Fishing out a device from her pocket, she aimed at a metal grill in the ceiling and fired a shot. A grapple hook attached itself to the grill and she yanked it down.

“What’s in it for you?” you asked.

She gave you one final smirk as she turned towards Leon, winking at him. “I’ll be in touch very soon.”

With that, she clung onto the grill, blinking up into the crawl space above as she secured it back into its original position.

At that very moment, Jill burst into the room with her Doberman in tow, growling ferociously at the three of you. Her hand had morphed into a monstrous claw, sharp enough to dice anyone into pieces and ready to tear the place apart. “Someone had better tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Rebecca was the first to respond, “I had some difficulties in Memoriam. Leon had to assist his childe in getting me back safely.”

“The cameras were cut,” Jill fumed, not backing down as she scanned your reactions for answers. “Hunnigan seemed to have a rough time bringing them back online.”

“We were kinda busy down here,” Leon claimed, already well-versed in the art of omission and partial information when it came to any form of interrogation.

“You better watch your step, smartass,” she cautioned, still not fully buying Leon’s half-truth. Her eyes gleamed dangerously. “I’m going to investigate this matter myself, and if I trace anything back to you… Carlos here is gonna have a field day ripping your goddamn balls out every night for the rest of your unlife.”

At this, her Doberman let out a series of sharp, piercing barks as it wagged its tail enthusiastically. You bristled at her threat as something within you snapped. Without thinking, you sprang up, shielding Leon with your body, almost hissing in defiance. However, Leon reined you in, his face plastered with alarm as he grasped your arm, knocking some sense into you.

“Oh, so the little diva wants to play, huh?” Jill grinned viciously, her claw twitching with anticipation.

“She meant no offense,” Leon said calmly, attempting to relieve the tension between the two of you. “Besides, you wanted the report from Rebecca?”

A diversion. He had always been a clever one.

Leon exchanged cursory looks with the Tremere, who got the hint and cleared her throat before piping up, “I know who’s behind it. They’re all Sabbat members.”

“Bella, Cassandra and Daniela,” she rattled off the top of her head.

Whatever tall tale Rebecca had come up with seemed to work as Jill relaxed her stance, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Lady Dimitrescu’s childer?”

“Yes,” Rebecca affirmed. “Beneviento’s involved too.”

“That Ugly-Ass Psycho Doll?” Jill remarked, shifting uneasily. “Hm, explains the Dementation, I suppose.”

She straightened up, her feral eyes sweeping across the room one more time before issuing a set of commands. “Right, clean this mess up, and then you and I are gonna have a talk with Hunnigan to see if the info checks out,” she directed to Rebecca.

“As for pretty boy and his harlot here, the Prince wants to see you, stat.”

Your temper flared at the insult, but you bit your tongue in an effort to suppress it. With that, Jill turned to leave. Once she was a safe distance away, you whispered to Rebecca, “Did you just lie about all those Kindred? How did you come up with that?”

Her blue-eyed gaze met yours. “Because it wasn’t exactly a lie,” she explained carefully. “They appeared in his memories too.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

It turned out that your meeting with the Prince this time was more of a private affair, so instead of the greenhouse, you found him lounging on an opulent and richly-textured couch in the presentation room. He sat there regally, sipping on an artisanally crafted chalice with feigned indifference, not even bothering to acknowledge your presence when you and Leon walked in.

The Scourge stood diagonally across from him, monitoring your actions intently. He was keeping watch while Jill was busy with the previous technical hiccup and questioning Rebecca. You didn’t have a clue as to why the Prince had requested this meeting, but nothing he wanted could be good news.

The man in question bided his time, draining the chalice to the last drop at a leisurely pace, making you and your sire stand around and wait like idiots in utter silence. Finally, he spoke up, his voice laced with sarcasm, “Ah, not maimed yet, I see. Congratulations are in order.”

It took you a moment before you realized he was talking about you.

Before you could react, Leon had stepped forward, crossing his hand over his heart as he bowed in veneration. “My honorable Prince, how may we—”

However, Wesker saw through his bullshit. His patience waned at Leon’s obvious attempts at sweet-talking his way out of the situation. Brandishing the empty chalice in your direction accusingly, he remarked, “Your fledgling seems to be making quite a name for herself.”

Your mouth ran dry. What Leon had warned you about during your big fight with him came rushing back.

“I don’t want to be ordered by the Prince to destroy you.”

“If you step out of line, he will ask me to.”

You had been too careless in your dalliances with the Anarchs, and naturally, word had gotten around, as well as back into the viper’s nest.

Leon hung his head low in submission, averting his gaze. “Prince, I can assure you, I have put a stop to the issue at hand.”

Ignoring him, Wesker smirked, “Like sire, like childe.”

“Do you have any idea what I do to traitors of the Camarilla?” he asked as the Scourge shifted slightly, his dual curved blades glinting under the fluorescent lights.

A mere glance from Wesker at the Scourge caused him to back down. “Go on, why don’t you take a guess?” he beckoned you.

Although an immobilizing fear rippled through your body, you still managed to cough out, “Final Death?”

At this, Wesker bellowed with laughter. “Oh, no, no… that would be far too merciful for the likes of such filth.”

“Wouldn’t it be more appropriate and resourceful for me to have my scientists conduct their work on them?” he suggested, tapping on his chin thoughtfully. “Or perhaps I should string them up in a cellar somewhere with their limbs chopped off, and have them bleed out into my waiting cup, hmm?”

You noticed the way he had emphasized ‘them’ sounded more like he meant ‘you’.

Placing his chalice on the side table, he leaned forward with his hands in a steepled position and grinned deviously. “I mean, all these marvelous reviews have left me wanting to have a taste…”

You gulped at his insinuation, your hands trembling as you tried to conceal them from his sight. Then, you felt Leon nudging you protectively behind him.

The amber of Wesker’s eyes glowered through his shades. “And why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything, Leon?”

“My trusted Sheriff has her suspicions that you’ve not been fully cooperative on the case,” he alleged, looking to your sire for an answer.

“The information turned out to be more difficult to acquire than expected,” Leon explained guardedly. “But I have provided Jill with everything I know, and so has Rebecca.”

Truth be told, you were in two minds when Ada had approached you with her request. However, the way this meeting had unfolded caused the hatred you harbored for Wesker to grow exponentially — so much so that you said nothing when Leon was lying through his teeth. You had taken your stance.

There was a long, agonizing pause as Wesker considered his words. “Very well, you’ve made your bed, Leon. Just be aware, we will find out whatever it is you’re hiding…” he trailed off before stating in a deliberate tone, “You of all Kindred should know how much I love personally gutting traitors.”

Angling his head towards you, he warned, “One more misstep and we’ll see about that drink I am dying to have…”

You nodded feebly, preparing to take your leave with Leon who was ushering you out hurriedly.

It was only when you had reached the door of the room that Wesker tutted, “I’m not quite done with you yet.”

Like a sly predator toying with its prey, he had lulled you into a false sense of security, only to yank it away at the last minute. Whirling around, you caught a glimpse of the diabolical uptick in his lips as a side door slid open.

A slender blonde woman with a layered, cropped haircut walked in apathetically, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere that permeated the space. She was dressed in a fitted beige blouse, olive khaki pants, and lace-up utility boots. An arctic blue scarf adorned her neck even though the temperatures within Elysium were well-regulated.

You heard Leon's breath hitch as he suddenly gripped your hand with a vice-like hold. The woman smiled placidly at the two of you, and it was then that you could see the blank stare in her glassy blue eyes. Was she—?

Wesker flung his arms open dramatically, as if unveiling a prized possession. “Ah, Sherry! How nice of you to join us.”

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burntheedges · 3 months ago

Text

Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge!

Let's do a writing challenge! I hit a milestone so I wanted to do something fun with all of you. 🥰

So, the challenge: send me a Pedro Pascal character of your choice and I’ll assign you a trope by rolling a d20. I’ve already assigned ~classic fic tropes~ to each number, 1 through 20, but I’m keeping them a secret. 👀 (Note: if you really need to see the options before you join, dm me.) Ok fine, here are a few examples: only one bed, snowed in, didn’t know they were dating, epistolary, road trip, and more! 😏

What to do: starting now, send me an ask with a Pedro character of your choice, all Pedro characters welcome! (no rpf, please)

What you’ll get: a trope 😎 (with an explanation, just in case)

What to do next: write! Write as little or as much as you’d like.

When you should post: by September 30 but if it's after that I won't be mad (I will, in fact, be excited)

About the tropes:

All numbers can be assigned more than once, so everyone can play! Yay!

All tropes can be gen or fluffy or angsty or smutty or whatever you’d like, it’s up to you what you do with the trope.

None of the tropes are specifically smutty (so they’re open to your interpretation) but all of them can be smutty, if you want. 😏

Some of them are definitely more romantic, though, so if you’d like a non-romantic one just specify and I’ll reroll if needed.

You're welcome to do more than one, if you'd like!

The masterlist for this challenge is here! Remember to use the tag - #roll a trope challenge. I'm going to reblog and tag some folks who might be interested. Please reblog and share!

Let’s roll. 😎

For now I'm going to track the character-trope matches here, just so we can find them easily! And look at our assortment!! Y'all this is amazing. I don't think it will let me tag everyone so I'll get some of you in the comments!

Dave York

@almostempty - #11, snowed in

@jeewrites - #19, amnesia

@katareyoudrilling - #12, famous person AU

@punkshort - #5, reincarnation

@schnarfer - #3, only one bed

@sizzlingcloudmentality - #10, pining

Dieter Bravo

@beelzebeth87 - #1, epistolary

@bitchesuntitled - #20, time travel

@davnittbraes - #14, trapped in an elevator

@jennaispunk - #15, fake dating/married

@trulybetty - #4, enemies to lovers

@perotovar - #3, only one bed

@papurgaatika - #18, friends to lovers

Din Djarin

@corazondebeskar - #4, enemies to lovers

@din-cognito - #2, road trip

@djarins-cyare - #17, secret relationship

@jksprincess10 - #8, "shop" AU

@pentechnics - #13, time loop/groundhog day

@secretelephanttattoo - #1, epistolary

@weirdoneattheparty - #18, friends to lovers

@whxtedreams - #15, fake dating/married

Dio

@flyingthroughheaven - #4, enemies to lovers

Ezra

@bumblepony - #17, secret relationship

@cas-readsandwrites - #13, time loop/groundhog day

@multiversed-daydreamer - #2, road trip

Frankie Morales

@ashleyfilm - #17, secret relationship

@aurorawritestoescape - #9, exes

@beefrobeefcal - #16, soulmates

@docharleythegeekqueen - #11, snowed in

@skittlesfics - #7, sickfic

@inept-the-magnificent - #8, "shop" AU

@sawymredfox - #10, pining

Jack Daniels

@fhatbhabiee - #18, friends to lovers

@maggiemayhemnj - #16, soulmates

@penvisions - #13, time loop/groundhog day

@prolix-yuy - #14, trapped in an elevator

@syd-djarin - #15, fake dating/married

@wordywarriorwrites - #6, didn't know they were dating

Javier Gutierrez

@eff4freddie - #16, soulmates

@yopossum - #14, trapped in an elevator

Javier Peña

@almostfoxglove - #14, trapped in an elevator

@dunphycharm - #7, sickfic

@infernalrusalka - #1, epistolary

@luxurychristmaspudding - #4, enemies to lovers

@milla-frenchy - #17, secret relationship

@miss-oranje-disco-dancer - #3, only one bed

@puddles221b - #13, time loop/groundhog day

@your-voice-is-mellifluous - #18, friends to lovers

@wannab-urs - #2, road trip

Joel Miller

@abbonation - #18, friends to lovers

@ak-vintage - #13, time loop/groundhog day

anon - #8, "shop" AU

anon = #5, reincarnation

@beardedjoel - #3, only one bed

@captainredspade - #15, fake dating/married

@evolnoomym - #12, famous person AU

@galway-girlatwork - #19, amnesia

@hotgirlbedtimescenarios - #20, time travel

@idioticcatss - #6, didn't know they were dating

@jobean12-blog - #4, enemies to lovers

@kedsandtubesocks - #2, road trip

@ovaryacted - #9, exes

@rexamongthestars - #7, sickfic

@whocaresstillthelouvre - #11, snowed in

@your-voice-is-mellifluous - #1, epistolary

@yxtkiwiyxt - #16, soulmates

Marcus Acacius

@the-mandawhor1an - #20, time travel

Marcus Moreno

@joelalorian - #5, reincarnation

Marcus Pike

@dancingtotuyo - #17, secret relationship

@pedges-world - #11, snowed in

@yopossum - #2, road trip

Max Phillips

@clawdee - #10, pining

@grogusmum - #5, reincarnation

@sizzlingcloudmentality - #2, road trip

Nathan Landry

@sunshinehaze1 - #11, snowed in

Oberyn Martell

@iamasaddie - #15, fake dating/married

@ladamedusoif - #12, famous person AU

@noxturnalpascal - #13, time loop/groundhog day

@flyingthroughheaven - #1, epistolary

Pero Tovar

@avastrasposts - #19, amnesia

@tinytinymenace - #6, didn't know they were dating

Tim Rockford

@artsy-girl-76 - #8, "shop" AU

@auteurdelabre - #17, secret relationship

@dc41896 - #18, friends to lovers

@sp00kymulderr - #16, soulmates

???

@mountainsandmayhem - #11, snowed in

@ace-turned-confused - #20, time travel

@galaxyedging - #18, friends to lovers

Frankie or Javi G

@flightlessangelwings - #17, secret relationship

Javi P or Dave

@pedgito - #4, enemies to lovers

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rokutouxei · 4 years ago

Text

speaking your language

part 5 of atelier heart

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark theo van gogh/mc, vincent | T | 2506 | [ao3 in bio]

spoiler warning: key plot points mentioned in chapter 10 and 15 are used in this fic, with the vaguest hint of chapter 24 at the tail end.

also: my deepest apologies to people who actually speak dutch, i’m taking all of your con/crit with an open heart.

The first Dutch word you’d ever learned was hondje.

Dog, you’d learned. Or puppy. Not the worst first word to learn in a new language, but definitely up there if one considers the fact that it was meant to refer to you. It’s not that bad, though, and puppies are pretty cute, so it was easy to let it slide.

Then, knabbeltje. A snack, a little nibble. Not that Theo has any interest in taking any bite at you. He’s made that clear from the first night. For someone who’s so good at smooth talking his clients, that was a weird word to use for you, you’d thought. But, Theo has his reasons, you supposed.

Which is exactly what makes you so keen into learning the language.

You’ve learned that a little bribery can get you a long way when it comes to Theo—as in, get him invested and you’re good to go—so that morning, you take the extra effort. You rise earlier than you’ve ever done to prepare pancakes for him, whipping the egg whites with as much vigor as you can muster to ensure that the pancakes are as fluffy as humanly possible. You make sure every portion is peak jiggly, and they are, because you can’t help but tap them contentedly on the plate as they cooled, watching them wobble. Then, like a cherry on top, you take out the special pancake syrup you’d bought the day before, having come with Sebastian to buy groceries, the one you’d chosen specifically for Theo. (And oh, only for Theo, because no other mansion resident with the right mind about sugar would dare try it.)

You try to keep it a secret as long as you can, presenting the plate of sweet goodness to Theo once he’s come down from his room. The both of you are alone at the dining table, because it’s still way too early. He’s already dressed and ready to go, even if it’s just six-thirty a.m., and if he has a comment about you being already up when you usually aren’t, he holds it back.

Good choice—you want him to focus on the pancakes, and a smile erupts on both of your faces when he begins to munch happily away on the syrup-drenched disaster of a plate. The sigh he makes goes straight under your skin.

But you can’t let your guard down, because you still have a mission, and that is: to convince him.

When his shoulders relax, you finally pop the question.

“Won’t you please teach me some Dutch?”

Theo’s fork hovers in front of his mouth. “What?”

Over the past week, you’d learned two basic Dutch phrases from Theo, in the notes he’d written for you. Tot ziens, which he said meant goodbye for now, and Dank je, thank you. That makes four total things you can now say in Dutch. Not much, but clearly already much more than what you started with. You belatedly realize you don’t actually have a reason you can dare tell him as to why you want to learn Dutch, but never mind that.

“I said, won’t you teach me some Dutch, sometime?” you repeat. “I still have three weeks to spend out here, and while my French and English are pretty fine, I can’t really keep up with your Dutch. I thought it wouldn’t be so bad to learn, especially since you’re bringing me along to work anyway.”

Cringe. That wasn’t a good reason, you were sure. But maybe the pancakes will make Theo’s steel heart a little more malleable for your favor.

What other reasons do you have? Well, maybe he’ll be able to better explain to you certain things about art and their work if he reverts to his mother tongue, right? There are certain things translations miss, after all, and maybe if you learned the language, it’ll be much easier on the both of you? Oh, wait, but does that mean you’ll be intruding on the shared, perhaps too-personal language he shares with his brother? Oh, no, that wasn’t what you meant. Maybe—

“Dutch syllables are very different from English and French,” Theo says, instead, after a long moment, a not-really yes or no.

You narrow your eyes with his response, but quickly realize maybe he’s just testing your will to do it. You are motivated. Learning languages are fun. “That’s fine, nothing practice won’t conquer. It’s really not cute that all I know how to say is stuff like dog and snack.” He snorts. “I mean, if you’re not up to it…”

Theo sighs. A sigh of defeat. “Okay, but you’ll have to work hard for it.”

You grin. That morning, you learn pannenkoek and siroop.

The learning curve for languages always differ according to the person, their own mother tongue, the language itself, and of course the work one puts into studying it, but one factor that really ups the vocabulary and grammar retention is being able to hear the language being spoken, rather regularly. This is how you end up having Vincent help you out with your little adventure in learning Dutch.

Having gotten used to conversing in French to each other, the brothers take time to adjust switching to their mother tongue for you. But when you’re looking at them with amazement exchanging words you can barely say, much less understand, there’s little they can’t do.

(Theo is mortified to have to surrender to it, but when he’s transparent to his brother, does he have any other choice?)

All of this happens just in time for the preparation for the exhibit to begin. The three of you spend much time together, selecting paintings, planning the exhibit orders, looking for themes. The two decide that this isn’t just a good opportunity to learn, it might also be in your best interests if they team-teach you the language.

Counting the paintings, Vincent teaches you the basics, hauling canvas after canvas going—een, twee, drie, vier, vijf, zes, zeven, acht, negen, tien. With the chosen paintings laid out on the floor, you point out colors and he teaches you their names—rood, oranje, geel, groen, blauw, paars, roze. He teaches you how to introduce yourself, say your name, teaches you greetings, basic nouns, the kind you will learn in introductory Dutch classes in universities if you were back in the 21st century. Vincent is gentle and kind and claps when you get the words right. (It makes you feel like a child. The word is kind.)

Theo, on the other hand, focuses on teaching you things related to the work at hand: een gallerij, een tentoonstelling, een schilderij—of course, a gallery, an exhibit, a painting. Teaches you words to describe the things you see, like mooi, for beautiful, and interessant, for interesting. He corrects your grammar, teaches you how to say, “let’s go home” or “I’m hungry, let’s eat”. When you don’t get the phrase right, he gives you a look, completely ignoring what you’d just said until you finally say it right. He corrects your pronunciation to the best of both your abilities.

He’s also found great joy in teaching you phrases before telling you what it means, and that’s how you’ve practiced saying misschien ben ik een hond die een jurk draagt as if you were a dog wearing a dress.

But you hear his laughter and it doesn’t matter as much.

Theo buys you a notebook to compile the words you’ve learned. In only a few days, you’ve amassed a wide range of words you now sprinkle throughout your sentences like a playful multilingual. You’ve gotten odd stares, sure, but it’s always better to keep using the words you’ve learned, because that’s how you make it seem natural.

So far, though, for the ones you’ve learned, it’s the Dutch verbs that are trickier than you expected. The conjugations keep tripping you up. They seem simple, and in fact a lot of them sound pretty close to their English counterparts, but Theo’s stares and (im)patient waiting for you to correct what you’ve said betray your misuse of them over and over again.

So at night, you practice. Staan for stand. Zeggen for say. Helpen for help. Leren, for learn.

Blijven, for stay.

Sorting Vincent’s paintings at the gallery Marquis Vollard had lent you, you bump shoulders with Theo and ask, “How do I say, ‘I love this’, in Dutch?” as you pull out a canvas from the stack.

“Ik hou hiervan.”

“Hmm.” You put aside the painting and pull out your notebook and pen. “So hou means love?”

“Houden, means to hold,” Theo says. “Like a hand, or a book. Hou van is what’s used for love.”

“So it’s ik hou van…?”

“Ik hou van jou,” he answers, without a thought.

A long moment, before the realization hits.

He turns away from you, and you’re thankful because of how hot your face feels.

“You use the same for other things,” Theo says. His voice is as even as always, and it makes your heart fall a little. “Like paintings, and art.”

“I see,” you say, before dropping the topic altogether.

You’re getting good at this keeping your heart tucked away thing, so you write ik hou van jou in looping letters on your notebook before returning to work.

All the while thinking: to love means to hold.

So you hold him.

After the fire.

After wheatfields.

After Gauguin.

Even when it hurts to hold.

Even when it’s him that’s let you go.

Even after you’ve heard the gunshot.

You hold on to him, even if you’re not sure if the both of you are speaking the same language anymore, if you’ll still ever be able to understand the other.

You hold on even if there’s blood everywhere.

Blijven means to stay.

And herstellen… means to recover.

The hospital is rather cozy. Quite similar to the ones in the 21st century, but still different from the sterile whiteness of it. You sit next to Theo on the bed, waiting for him to speak. You are alone for the first time since he’d said goodbye.

You hadn’t left him yet.

That night, he presses the words please forgive me into your lips, praying it’s the last time he’ll ever have to hurt you that way. You cradle his face in your palms and hold his love in your hands gently, as you exchange promises that it will no longer break.

You learn a lot of words after that, too.

Like wheatfields, tarwevelden. And forever, voor altijd. Each word learned is linked to a memory, making them hard to forget. Like katje, the day a kitten spooks Theo in the garden. Lekker, once you’ve made him a delicious batch of syrupy pancakes once again. Schat, treasure, and schatje—that is, you.

You’re still years of practice away from being fluent in Dutch, but at this point you’re fluent in Theo, and that’s really what matters.

And one night, Theo’s got you in a kiss when the both of you enter the room. You push at him just enough so that he sees the look on your face. “Teach me Dutch,” you say, half-teasing, and he laughs as he joins you in stripping off your clothes.

There’s no easier way to remember vocabulary than to learn it viscerally, carve it against your skin into a memory, and Dutch is no exception. You both fall into the bed in an entanglement of limbs, righting yourselves up just to catch each other in another kiss.

You cup both his cheeks, and he teaches you, “gezicht.” Face.

You kiss his forehead, and he says, “voorhoofd.”

You gently run your thumbs under his eyes, and he says, “ogen.”

“Kus,” he says, “is like this,” pulling you toward him in a kiss. You sigh into the word without much grace.

Pressing his lips against your throat, he teaches you, “hals.”

Grazing a fang onto your shoulder, “schouder.”

He sucks a bruise onto your collarbone and says, “sleutelbeen.”

The sensation makes your hand fly onto his hair, and with a chuckle he teaches, “haar.”

He takes your hand in his, presses a kiss onto your wrist. “pols.”

You cup Theo’s face in your hand and scour his body for more words, like a dictionary made of flesh. Your free hand grazes the scar on his back and with a sigh he teaches you “litteken.” You wonder if the same word applies to those found in his heart.

“Rug,” he teaches you, the vast expanse of his back.

Your hand goes down to his waist and he says, “taille.” You touch his hip and he says “heup.”

He gives you a mischievous look, one that suited his boyish features so much, your heart nearly stops. “Where is je favoriet?” he asks you, teasing. A phrase you’d learnt earlier. Your face flushes at the connotation but you refuse to give him the answer he wants, tapping his nose (“neus”) with a finger.

“You are mijn favoriet,” you respond, and you know when he steals your lips even more deeply than earlier is only because you’ve made him flustered. You laugh into the kiss and he growls.

Never one to be outdone, Theo pushes you backward onto the bed. The two of you share a short moment of intimacy, staring at each other’s eyes with the kind of searing fondness that always leaves you breathless, before he’s on his way down again to teach you.

“Dij,” he mouths against your thigh; lifts your leg up toward him, pressing kisses all the way down. “Knie. Kalf. Voet.” You nearly kick him when he kisses your foot but he holds you still. “Enkel.”

“But I haven’t taught you the most important one,” he says. Crawling back upward, he cups the apex of your thighs and grins. “Paradijs,” he says, and you hit him on the shoulder, covering your mouth with one hand. The laugh that rolls out of him makes your embarrassment worth it.

You pull him upward to take another kiss from him, and while you could have at it tonight, you just want to bask in his presence. You whisper “omhelzing?” hoping to get the pronunciation right or else he’ll ignore your plea to cuddle, thankful that he pulls you up to switch position.

He rests his head on your chest and says, “hoofdkussen,” with a sigh, and you’re not an expert yet, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what it should be.

You push him off with a groan (“you’re heavy!”) and the two of you switch to your usual cuddling position, Theo holding you in his arms and your head on his chest.

You don’t realize your hand has hovered over the spot on his chest right over his heart until he places his hand on yours.

Whispers into the listening night air:

“Voor altijd van jou.”

---

in the atelier: The Kiss by Gustav Klimt

also in the atelier, hidden somewhere hard to find, is Gustave Courbet's L'Origine du monde. (and because it is hidden, you’ll have to find it on your own. do be careful when you look it up though.) that painting singlehandedly inspired the paradijs bit, so it has to be mentioned.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire theo #ikevamp theo #ikevam #ikevam theo #atelier heart #fic #me and my 41 duolingo dutch crowns worked hard for this #speaking your language

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