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˗ˏˋ admirxation's jjk masterlist ´ˎ˗
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Into the Ether (6)
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, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.
Authors' Note: Hazing, torture and mild gore ahead.
Taglist: @admirxation @xoxostarlet @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️🔥
AO3 Link
Chapter 6: Every Rose Has Its Thorn
“Ada,” it came out as a caution, both warning her to back off and reminding you to tread carefully.
That didn’t faze her; she maintained her usual sociable disposition, though something about it seemed ingenuine, as if she were the lead actress in a stage play. “Is that how you greet your sire?” she teased.
Leon had briefly told you about her; how much she enjoyed political intrigue and mind games, how cruel she could be and the way she traded secrets and declarations of love like currency. You sensed there was more than he was letting on, especially when you’d asked him those famous words, “Did you love her?”
He stiffened, his hollowed-out stare burning a hole in the wall before him, and the only sound you could hear was the clock ticking in the background. “I thought I did,” he finally replied.
And that was the end of the conversation.
“We were just in the middle of something important,” Leon contended. The pregnant pause that ensued hinted that her intrusion was unwelcome.
Undeterred, she slinked down onto the velvety couch beside you, draping her arm across its back near your shoulders. “What’s more important than introducing her to our clan members?” She toyed absentmindedly with your hair between her fingers, grooming you like a house cat, frowning whenever she saw a split end.
“She’s not—”
“Ready?” Ada suggested coyly. “You really need to have more faith in your progeny.”
“My dear.” She framed your face tenderly with her palms, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen down your cheek. “You did so well in front of the Prince.”
Taking one of her hands away, she rummaged through her satin evening clutch, decorated with pearls. “I heard you’re a fan of these…”
Your eyes perked up at unmistakable French Blue paper packaging, with its distinctive winged Gallic helmet logo on the front. How did she know? You might have risked being labeled as a snob, but if there was a brand of cigarettes that made you weak in the knees, this would be it.
“Gauloises, unfiltered.” She smiled knowingly, passing you the packet you often associated with the likes of Camus and Sartre, intellectuals you admired. “Flown in all the way from Paris.”
Another hand grabbed your shoulder. “Don’t,” Leon urged, reminding you of the vow you had taken earlier to listen only to him.
A nagging voice of reason in your head concurred with him, but the hurt you felt from learning the true nature of your Embrace was louder, drowning it out with its howls. You weren’t about to be the better person and let things lie, you were a creature of passion after all.
Shoving his hand off you, you accepted Ada’s gift graciously, thanking her as you peeled the top of the packet open. Sniffling softly, you dried away the rest of your tears with the back of your hand before offering her a cigarette from the pack. “She’s got manners,” Ada remarked appreciatively.
“Only to you it seems,” Leon grumbled as he folded his arms like a petulant child.
Fishing one out with her slender fingers, she placed it between her lips and you did the same after. It was only when she struck the match to light your cigarette that you involuntarily shrank away from the flame in slight terror, like some sort of survival instinct had kicked in. It reminded you of the time Leon flinched in the cafe when he opened his lighter.
“Rötschreck,” she commented. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
The aromatic taste of strong, dark tobacco hit you and you almost cried for a second time that night. You had only just begun to adjust to your new diet of blood that you thought you’d never be able to savor anything else remotely human again. As you shared a silent smoke with the woman who’d been demonized by your sire, she grazed your hand with her fingertips, speaking up, “Come, it’s time to meet the rest of your family.”
At this, Leon got to his feet, standing between you and Ada. “No,” he protested. “I’m her sire, I will take her.”
Ada looked between you and Leon with an amused expression on her face, until focusing her attention entirely onto you. “Well?”
Rejecting his advances, you glared at him with scorn, while circling around to join Ada by her side. Perhaps it was immature and you would live to regret it, but at that moment, you wanted nothing more than to stick it to him after what he had done to you. A look of incredulity and betrayal was plastered across his face, while on Ada’s it was one of smug triumph.
A sire who can’t control his childe? Ada’s voice gloated in his head as she strutted off with you.
He pushed it back with a hostile snarl, following close behind so as not to lose sight of the two of you.
The clan meeting that Ada had raved about was designated in the bioreactors room within the West Area. Odd choice for social networking event. Then again, there weren’t many options in this monolith of steel and concrete.
“Welcome to the Rose Garden,” she declared proudly, as two men in uniformed suits and Venetian masks swung open the doors, bowing and inviting you inside.
“Metaphorically, not literally, of course — especially in this mind numbing place,” she whispered the last part of the sentence to you in jest, as a slight towards Wesker. “We usually host them in more… inspired locations, but this was the best we could manage on such short notice.”
The room was decorated with romantic rose tendrils, and an ethereal canopy of soft white fabric draped from the center of the ceiling, cascading down the walls. Cocktail tables were scattered along the sides, lined with antique lace cloth that would have cost a fortune to procure.
The minute you set foot in the venue, everyone turned towards you and the room fell into a hushed silence. They stood still like mannequins, pausing halfway between chatting and drinking. It was different to the maliciousness you had experienced with the cliquish vampires before by the rampway. Here, they observed you instead with a look of compulsion, curiously appraising your worth like a prized lamb brought to slaughter.
“Go on.” Ada nudged you forward gently. “Say hello to your elders.”
Glancing over at Leon, you noticed the agitation in his eyes. He remained mute, aware of the impending debacle yet powerless to stop it. You didn’t quite know what to expect as you edged forward hesitantly, while the rest of the crowd parted slightly like the Red Sea, eyeing you as if you were being auctioned off to the highest bidder.
The first of them started to sniff you impulsively and when you shied away, the others held you in place, pushing you along. The unsolicited violations of your person continued, growing with intensity as they prodded at your body, pinched your skin, and licked your face. You would have wrestled your way out of their grasp, if not for those wearing long brass fingernails, their tips sharpened like knives, threatening to slice you if you dared to resist. Instead, you stifled a whimper, masking your fear and revulsion to maintain a facade of confidence and composure.
As your superiors, they were allowed to do anything they wanted to you, and you couldn’t complain. You were insignificant; a drop in the ocean. Just another fledgling who had barely survived a few nights in the world of darkness, invisible in the grand scheme of things until you proved yourself.
From afar, Leon watched the degrading display as the other Kindred ripped at pieces of your clothing, claiming the fabric for themselves. They waved them in the air, tucking them into their purses like souvenirs they’d won at a fairground. Through gritted teeth, he admonished the woman beside him, “Did you really need to bring her here to be humiliated?”
She let out a huff of criticism. “Your short-sightedness in such matters is disappointing. I merely wanted to see how she would react, and if she was good enough, as you claim.”
“For what?” he seethed. “To be used in one of your schemes?”
Coughing out a derisive laugh, she traced his jawline with her index finger. “Now, now, I suggest you handle yourself as well as your beloved fledgling is doing.”
“I’ve had enough of this sick show.” Twisting his head away from her caress, he stormed off, heading in your direction as the attention began to draw towards him instead.
Without a word, he removed his blazer, placing it over your shoulders to protect your modesty. A couple of ridiculing giggles and endearing ‘awws’ erupted from the audience.
At that point, you’d zoned out as a defense mechanism to cope with the embarrassment. After all, it was kind of like acting sometimes, wasn’t it? Their voices sounded distant to you until you slowly came back into your present body. As you peered up at the man who had come to your aid, his unwavering demeanor grounded you, filling you with a sense of gratitude. Why did he have to lie to you about your Embrace? He had promised to earn back your trust, but all he managed was to deliver a slap to the face. And now, here he was, steadfast like a rock by your side. You couldn’t understand him.
He was about to drag you away when a man with shaggy, medium-length hair, stepped forward. Dressed in a burnt caramel leather jacket and a matching embroidered waistcoat, he seemed to have quite a taste for fashion and being in the limelight.
“Ugh, not this guy again,” Leon muttered under his breath.
“Hey, Sancho, come on. Let the señorita stay, the party isn’t over yet!” The man beckoned the both of you over enthusiastically to join his social circle at one of the drink tables.
“Only for a moment, Luis,” Leon negotiated. “We’ve got things to attend to — Prince’s orders.”
Luis raised his arms in mock surrender, but continued to implore you with more exaggerated hand waves.
“Avoid agreeing to anything with him at all costs,” Leon warned, keeping his voice low as he spoke in your ear. “He’ll indebt you for the rest of your unlife.”
You nodded compliantly, having had your fair share of deals for tonight.
The crowd went back to whatever they were doing as chatter and excitement filled the room again. When you approached, Luis made a grand gesture of taking your hand in his, kissing it as he bowed before you. “What a fine Princess!” he swooned.
“No wonder this Yanqui here wants to keep you all to himself, eh?” Giving Leon a cheeky wink, he settled into conversation by introducing you to the other Kindred around him.
It was then where you understood how it was like to be privy to all the gossip surrounding you. Luis invited you to the Balls and Carnivale the Toreador were organizing this year, which you held off on giving a definite answer to for now. Some popular topics that came up included: a Kindred artist’s recent foray into photographing bodies in various forms of bloated decay, with rumors that she kept her subjects in her basement under suitable conditions; and another Kindred who had made substantial progress in molding himself to resemble a stained-glass panel that had captivated him. It was only a matter of time before Leon was subjected to similar scrutiny.
“Did you know your sire doesn’t keep any ghouls or retainers?” one of Luis’ friends mentioned. “I have no idea how on earth he gets things done!”
“Who watches over him when he sleeps?” another gasped audaciously. “I could never!”
You spotted Leon pursing his lips in guarded response, shifting his weight from one foot to the other with his hands behind his back. They were insulting him for not having human servants and bodyguards, some imbued with more power than others, but all blood bound to ensure their loyalty. He had informed you about blood bonds in passing, and from what little you knew, it wasn’t pleasant. For once, you admired him for standing up for what he believed in and not taking advantage of others in this regard — even though he had ironically done so with you, a fact that still pained you.
“Perhaps he’s capable enough on his own,” you countered.
All eyes were on you. Luis cocked his head, revealing an intrigued smile on his lips.
“I find it impressive,” you added, feeling the ghostly trail of Leon’s pinkie finger against your own in appreciation.
“How about you, señorita? Will you follow in your sire’s footsteps, or will you ghoul?”
Before the discussion could go on further, you heard the Sheriff's distinct voice at the entrance, summoning you and Leon to accompany her for a briefing. Saved by the bell, you sighed in relief as you made your way out of the garden, which was teeming with hidden thorns.
━━━━━━━━━━━
As you wandered back towards the server room in the East Area, Leon had kindly given you a heads up about the Kindred who often holed herself up there. Belonging to the Nosferatu clan meant that she would bear certain deformities. Even so, when she swiveled around in her armchair, you couldn’t contain the tiny gasp that escaped your lips.
Most of the woman’s head was covered in bald patches, leaving only a few straggly strands which fell in a matted mess. Her face was filled with ulcerating sores which leaked pus down her otherwise pristine, crisp white shirt. When she grinned, you see her two front teeth, elongated and jagged compared to the rest. Peering at you through her spectacles, her spindly fingers, shaped like claws, drummed rhythmically on the computer desk.
Hm, so the tech ban didn’t actually apply to the Prince’s entourage, you thought.
“Afraid?” Jill snickered, glancing at you briefly before resting her back against one of the many blinking tower servers in the room.
The other woman cackled, seemingly enjoying an established rapport with Jill. “Name’s Hunnigan, lick.” You learnt that was a rather derogatory slang for Kindred. Guess she didn’t like your reaction to her looks much.
“Typical Toreador,” she tutted. “Vanity won’t get you anywhere.”
Leon stepped in before the conversation could take a turn for the worse. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Shall we get down to business?”
“Copy that,” Hunnigan relented, though not without flashing you a cursory glance. With a tap of a button, a dozen different mugshots of people you didn’t recognize, along with their identification particulars were projected onto the screens in front of her.
“The assailants,” she presented. “All fake IDs unsurprisingly, but I’ve still included the intel along with what Jill extracted from them into your briefing files.”
At this, Jill snorted, her mood souring as she bellowed, “Got fuck all from these guys. Kept repeating the same tired shit over and over again.”
“Like what?” Leon pressed.
“See for yourself.” Jill signaled towards the screens as Hunnigan brought up a video of what looked like an interrogation taking place.
There were angry snarls and barking followed by tortured screams from the man’s mouth. You saw Jill's shadow captured on the side of the reel, along with her trusty companion, the Doberman, blood and froth dribbling from its mouth. The man was chained to the ground and sobbing violently. Pockets of flesh on his chest had been mauled by the animal.
“Answer me! Who the fuck sent you?”
“Nobody,” the man blubbered mindlessly. “Nobody said they were nobody…”
Hunnigan raised an eyebrow at the screen, muttering, “He’s gone mad.”
You heard a jarring crunching sound and wished you hadn’t looked at the recording again. Jill’s boot was planted on the man’s wrist, which had been twisted and broken in a weird angle. You winced and felt Leon interlace his fingers through yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand soothingly. Somehow, you couldn’t bear to pull away, finding solace in his touch. It was disconcerting how much you wanted to feel more of him — the man who had a hand in making your unlife a living hell. Maybe there’s a truth to people bonding after experiencing trauma.
Another harrowing scream and a series of rapid fire questions followed.
“What were your orders?” Jill snapped.
The man’s breathing was ragged, interspersed with whimpers of pain. “Em-embrace them a-all…” he repeated continuously like a fervent prayer.
She interrupted him sharply, her words slicing through the air like a blade. “Where were you before this?”
He looked up in confusion, his eyes glazed and blank, as if he were stumped and at a loss for words. “I-I don’t… remember.”
There was a heavy sigh as her final question resounded across the four walls of the room. “Identify yourself.”
“I don’t—”
With a flick of her hand, the Doberman pounced forward, lacerating the man’s throat with its teeth, tearing it out as he gurgled on his own blood and the light gradually faded from his eyes. The recording stopped.
A wave of nausea enveloped you as you tried not to hurl whatever you had drunk that night. Leon hand tightened in yours as he gazed at you sympathetically before pulling away to address the two women. “Seems to me like they were tampered with. Someone wiped their memories and Dominated them into servitude.”
“Maybe even a bit of Dementation,” Hunnigan added insightfully, folding her hands into a contemplative, triangular pose under her chin.
Dementation, the power to shatter minds and inflict them with madness. A very smart observation from the Nosferatu, Leon reflected. But that could mean a Malkavian was involved, or someone who’d picked up the skill. “How many of the captives are left?”
“Three,” Jill replied plainly.
From a dozen to three. “Seriously?” he chastised. “Was it necessary to off all of them?”
Raising a finger to silence him, she insisted, “Three is more than enough.”
“As long as you keep it that way,” he argued, placing his arms akimbo and shaking his head in annoyance. “We need to recover their memories somehow.”
“Well, you’re in luck, Leon,” Hunnigan simpered. “We have a memory expert right under our noses. One of the scientists working here for Wesker.”
Resting her hands behind her head, she leaned back lazily, exchanging wry glances with Jill. “Thing is, she’s a little hard to pin down. You might have to go through her Regent, though that’s another slippery one.”
“A Tremere?” he blurted out caustically. That just made his job ten times harder.
“What’s wrong with the Tremere?” you posed innocently.
“Everything,” came the unison reply, as three pairs of eyes darted in your direction.
“Oh, you have a lot to learn, lick,” Hunnigan leered. You guessed that nickname wasn’t going away anytime soon, though you were beginning to understand when to pick your battles and when not. “But that’s your sire’s job.”
“Fuckin’ usurpers, witches in disguise,” Jill spat, her insults laced with venom. “Don’t trust ’em.”
“At least they make themselves somewhat useful,” Hunnigan countered, pushing her glasses up along the bridge of her nose.
“Anyway, I digress,” she said, rapping her fingers on the desk again out of habit. “Another tip for you, because I’m nice: the Bakers.”
“God, no,” he groaned, rubbing the temples at the sides of his head. He’d never met them personally either, but had heard the literal horror stories.
“They’re your port of call for Dementation and the Cobweb, also known as the Malkavian psychic network,” she instructed, clicking away furiously at her computer to add in further details to the files she intended to handover to him.
“More like, madness network,” Jill interjected, sharing a cynical laugh with Hunnigan before giving her a high five. You didn’t see the humor in it at all, but they appeared to gel with their inside jokes like long-time pals.
“Just in case, I’ll send out some feelers and keep my ear to the ground.” An evident buzzing sound followed as a small swarm of flies emerged from underneath Hunnigan’s blouse into the space.
You looked on in shock, your mouth hanging open.
“I must admit, I’m a bit of a show off.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you brazenly before turning towards Leon. “And you know how to reach me.”
“How could I ever forget your rats, Hunnigan?” He forced out a tight-lipped smile.
“So, both of you can control animals?” you proposed, still coming to terms with what you had just seen displayed in front of you.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Jill grunted, pushing herself away from the tower as she paced around the room in agitation, seemingly growing impatient with your ignorance.
Hunnigan, however, appreciated your interest in the topic and proceeded to explain, “Slight difference there — mine are mostly for communication and info gathering. Jill likes her dogs; they’re better for attacking.”
Gangrels like Jill tended to be closer to the Beast than most Kindred were, and also considered themselves as survivalists and fighters. That, coupled with her job as the Sheriff, explained why her approach to Animalism was on the more aggressive side, as compared to Hunnigan’s.
“Right, got it,” you nodded tersely, grateful for the clarification but unsure of what to make of her. “Thanks.”
She nodded back before handing over a thumb drive to Leon. “Guard this with your life.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he promised, swiping the device and tucking it into one of his pockets as he gave her a mock salute.
What a goofball. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you tried to suppress a snicker as he winked at you. Your heart skipped a beat, figuratively speaking, and you lowered your gaze. Needless to say, another bout of conflicting feelings bubbled to the surface. How could someone you detested moments ago also arouse such warmth and affection within you? Why did you have to meet him in this unfortunate way? If the world he lived in didn’t exist and he was just a normal patron, maybe the two of you could’ve stood a chance. But then again, nothing was normal these days. You kicked yourself for even considering it. The man had actually turned out to be a monster after all, though at the same time, he wasn’t.
Jill watched the entire exchange, unimpressed. “Jeez, get a room already. The next thing you know you’re both biting each other and turning this place into the bloody Nile.”
“Not on my watch,” Hunnigan threatened, the flies around her buzzing indignantly.
Leon appeared to take their complaints in his stride, flipping his bangs to the side and breaking out into a charming, boyish smile. “Anything else you ladies need from us or shall we take our leave?”
“Yeah, you still think the Sabbat did it?” Jill inquired before jabbing her thumb in your direction. “Trying to turn her into a shovelhead?”
“What’s a—”
Leon glared at Jill as he interrupted you. “It’s one of the ways the Sabbat, a sect of vampire supremacists, prefer to Embrace their kind. After a Mass Embrace, they’d bash you on the head with a shovel and throw you into a pit to bury you alive.”
“See who manages to crawl out,” she added, running her tongue over the sharp edges of her teeth with a sadistic glint in her eye. “Survival of the fittest.”
“And to answer your question, Jill,” he continued, “the Sabbat’s probably involved one way or another, but something tells me there are more players in this.”
“Good guess, pretty boy,” she purred. “I’ll be expecting regular updates on this case.”
“Noted,” he replied bluntly, turning on his heel and briskly guiding you out of the room.
━━━━━━━━━━━
On your trip back to his apartment, Leon suddenly breached the uncomfortable silence that hung heavily between you. “Stay with me for now, so I can watch over you.”
You eyed him skeptically. Did he really think he could pull this trick on you? “Yeah, fat chance. I’m fine where I am.”
“You know when Luis talked about ghouling? Well, you won’t have to do that, as long as I’m there,” he tried to persuade you.
“I could be just as capable,” you contended, though the fear of entering uncharted territory played on the back of your mind.
“Could be,” he stressed, as you pinched your lips together into a disgruntled frown.
“There are many who know how much you mean to me.” His honeyed voice filled your ears and again, your stomach fluttered at his confession.
You imagined his lips searing kisses onto your skin and hated yourself for it. He broke you and made you who you were. Fucking bastard. You wanted to lash out and hit him again and again, until you didn’t have to see his handsome face under a layer of blood and bruises, but you couldn’t. When push came to shove, you were weak.
“They’ll use it against us,” he claimed. “Let’s not even talk about the Sabbat, who won’t give a shit about killing you on sight.”
Leon 1, you 0. The bell had sounded and he was the winner for this round. Your mouth twisted in displeasure at the unfair results. There was a long pause until, eventually, you spoke up, “I’ll stay, but the cafe is my turf. You’re not going to order me about there.”
He gave you a sidelong smile. “I guess we can come to an agreement.” Noticing your restlessness, he quirked an eyebrow and appended his statement with, “Anything else?”
“There is,” you began tentatively, the urge to rile him up was getting the better of you. “But first, a smoke?” With lightning speed, your packet of Gauloises was already pressed flat against his chest. Good ol’ Celerity — you could get used to this.
He glanced at the offensive Cornflower blue packet and scrunched his face in resentment. Placing his hand over your ‘offering’, he pushed it down coolly and snorted, “Cute, but I’ve got my own,” while tapping at the pack in his trouser pocket.
“Suit yourself.” You shrugged, lighting your cigarette with the box of matches Ada had left you. The flinching wasn’t as bad this time, like she’d said.
Exhaling thick plumes of smoke like a femme fatale in an old noir film, you declared, “I want separate beds, non-negotiable.”
A sardonic smirk crept onto his lips. “I’ll see what I can do.”
#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#porcelainscribbles
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Pedro memes pt 6
previously, on "Puddles has a problem":
✨part 1✨ ✨part 2✨ ✨part 3✨ ✨part 4✨ ✨part 5✨
I got some requests for more fic reaction type memes, so those are down there somewhere :)
ca-cawww ca-caawwwwwwwww
yah he has two mouths and two noses. so what? it was a creative choice that i will stand by.
Pedro-chu, I choose YOU!
shocked Pedro-chu
float like a buttahfly
Have you ever had a dream that you, um, you had, your, you- you could, you’ll do, you- you wants, you, you could do so, you- you’ll do, you could- you, you want, you want them to do you so much you could do anything?
me after I read @netherfeildren's I Urge You: Bite Me
sneaky sneaky wood go creaky // aight imma head out
you're gonna hear my feedback whether u like it or not (said w love). [[AHEM]] this one's for you: @cavillscurls @frannyzooey @haylzcyon @hier--soir @tieronecrush @ezrasbirdie @pascalisbaby @pascalsbby
sad swirlz 4 sad gurlz
still sad but also in luv
dramamine all day, bb, it's a bumpy ride 'round these parts. @cool-iguana im raising anchor to your dom!Din. "I BRAKE FOR MERMAIDS" is for @psychedelic-ink. "I <3 MY SEAMAN" is for @walkintotheriveranddisappear hahaha
put some motion in my ocean cuz there's se(a)men in that ship. @thetriumphantpanda this is for you for many, many reasons. you, too, @jrrmint
there's 3 of these
no seriously
bc I'm obsessed any nobody can stop me not even myself
HO-HO-HOrny
nurse Pedro has such good bedside manner. sending @fuckyeahdindjarin all the love in the world
i'm fine. this is fine. I LOVE IT.
see?
THIS JUST IN! @chloeangelic this is your line cook!Joel influence
additional sidebar if you care abt the integrity of journalism. @iamskyereads all the extra words are in honor of Compulsion, featuring my fave verbose slut Ezra
y'all. I went back and counted, and in just under two weeks I've posted just under 100 (97 to be exact) original Pedro memes. what in the actual FUCK is wrong with me hahahahahaha.
I'm gonna focus a bit on my writing (yeah, I write fic, too lmaoooo) for a little bit before posting more memes. bc there's always more memes where I'm concerned. in the meantime, you can check out ✨✨✨ MY MASTERLIST ✨✨✨ if you want more from my beautiful goblin brain.
catch ya later,
♥Puddles♥
(mostly) tagging anybody who reblogged the last one:
@innerpersonunknown @talaok @atinylittlepain @hecatombix @thesummerpetrichor @atticrissfinch @joelscruff @your-slutty-gf @bonezone44 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @toxicanonymity @pedrit0-pascalit0 @pr0ximamidnight @zohaaan @chaotic-mystery @goodwithcheese @wannab-urs @sin-djarin @drewharrisonwriter @lucyeyelesbarrow @angiees-things @tbeep @tonys-fav-bitch @lovers-liability @pedroswife69 @pedropascalfan221 @lalosbxtch @bubblepopneurotic @vee-bees-blog @admirxation @daniegraceg @swiftispunk
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˗ˏˋadmirxation's resident evil masterlist´ˎ˗
tw: dark content ahead. continue at your own discretion
~ oneshots (over 1k) ~
I've missed this {Leon Kennedy} NSFW [established relationship] ~ Leon returns from his mission and spends time with his girlfriend
Pathetic {stepbro!sub!Leon Kennedy} NSFW [stepcest] ~ Leon secretly desires his stepsister and gets jealous when she prepares for a date with another man.
Make it up to me {Leon Kennedy} NSFW ~ Leon saves the president's daughter, the reader, and she must thank him for all his work.
Unfaithful {boyfriend’s dad!Leon Kennedy} NSFW [cheating] ~ the reader cheats on their partner with their partner's dad.
An Imbalanced Deal {trainer!Jack Krauser} NSFW [dubcon + power imbalance] ~ Krauser can take the reader far, even out of the training programme, but she needs to do something for him for that favour.
Marriage is just a piece of paper {father-in-law!Leon Kennedy} NSFW [cheating + pseudoincest] ~ the reader has come back from her honeymoon and her partners father, Leon, desperately wants her.
Delusional {yandere!Leon Kennedy} NSFW [noncon] ~ the reader is a normal cofffee girl Leon gets obsessed with.
Secret {father-in-law!Leon Kennedy} NSFW [cheating + pseudoincest] ~ the reader’s husband has gone on a business trip, a perfect opportunity to seek affection with Leon.
~ drabbles / thoughts (under 1k) ~
Beg Me {Leon Kennedy} NSFW ~ Leon joins the reader in the shower [established relationship]
~ requests ~
New Sensation {Leon Kennedy} NSFW ~ the reader is desperate for Leon and cannot wait for him to put protection on. [established relationship]
Actress {boyfriend’s dad!Leon Kennedy} NSFW [cheating] ~ reader meets their boyfriend’s dad, but this turns to an unconventional meeting when her boyfriend goes to sleep.
~ multipart works ~
Sticky Notes: part one | part two {Leon Kennedy} NSFW [complete] ~ Leon and the reader return from their mission, but the reader develops feelings for him, deciding to confess to him on a sticky note.
Rookies First Time: part one | part two | part three {sub!Leon Kennedy} NSFW [complete] ~ The reader oversees the training Krauser gives to Leon, but Leon is her favourite trainee.
Broken Locks: part one | part two | part three | part four | part five {las plagas!yandere!Leon Kennedy} NSFW [dead dove do not eat] [prequel to 'The Perpetual Chase'] [complete] ~ Leon is infected with las plagas, making him act on a crush he has on the girl next door.
The Perpetual Chase: part one | part two | part three ... {las plagas!yandere!Leon Kennedy} NSFW [dead dove do not eat] [sequel to 'Broken Locks'] [ongoing ~ this fic is on hold for exam season and will now be continued only on ao3, link in pinned post] ~ the reader is finally free from the prison Leon held her in, but is now left to pick up the pieces and find out the lies Jill and Chris have been telling her.
#admirxation#admirxation masterlist#admirxation's resident evil masterlist#resident evil#resident evil fanfiction#resident evil masterlist#leon kennedy fanfiction
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˗ˏˋadmirxation's the last of us masterlist´ˎ˗
~ oneshots (over 1k) ~
*in process*
#admirxation#admirxation masterlist#the last of us#divider by cafekitsune#fanfiction#fanfiction masterlist
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˗ˏˋ admirxation's the boys masterlist ´ˎ˗
~ requests ~
Dynamic Change {Soldier Boy} NSFW ~ the reader tries to catch Soldier Boy up with the 21st cen. trying to convince him to partner up and forget about his previous betrayal
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˗ˏˋ admirxation's masterlists ´ˎ˗
~ resident evil
~ baldurs gate 3
~ the last of us
~ jujutsu kaisen
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˗ˏˋ admirxation's bg3 masterlist ´ˎ˗
tw: dark content ahead. continue at your own discretion
~ oneshots (over 1k) ~
Force {Enver Gortash} NSFW [noncon] ~ Gortash tries to forcefully jog the reader's memory of their intimate history.
Messy Beauty {Astarion} [vampire blood tasting] ~ reader and Astarion spend time in the lake, but can’t help but get caught in each others beauty.
#admirxation#admirxation baldurs gate 3 masterlist#baldurs gate 3 masterlist#baldurs gate 3#masterlist#fanfiction#fanfiction masterlist
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my masterlist is getting longgggg i think later on i might do some modifications and have it separated so it’s not overwhelming
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ive added a wip's section on my masterlist if anybody gets curious on what im working on, when requests come in i will also put those in so people are aware if im working on them <3
also please send requests AH
#please send requests#requests#fanfiction requests#admirxation talks#masterlist#masterlist update#wips#my wips
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Into the Ether (7)
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, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.
Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️🔥
AO3 Link
Chapter 7: More Than Human
During the time you stayed at his place, Leon let you have the bed while he took the couch. You tried not to feel guilty as he draped one of his extra bed sheets over it, fluffing the cushions up like pillows. And you tried not to feel the same guilt again, when you glanced over at the broken bedpost that you’d damaged in a fit of anger not long ago.
With a remote control, he closed the blackout shutters over every window in the apartment. They locked themselves with a click, ensuring that all outside light would be blocked out. A large duffel bag sat by the side of the room. Earlier, you’d packed a bunch of your stuff and transferred them over to your temporary residence. You didn’t know when you’d be able to return home again. Perhaps when the case that you’d been unwittingly assigned to was over and you had the chance to invest in some thick blinds.
You kept the usual hygiene routines you’d practiced before, wanting to retain any sense of normalcy you could from the time you had been human. Leon appeared to do the same. You felt like a weird couple, brushing your teeth together as your deadened gazes stared straight into the bathroom mirror. What was the point of pretending to be something you weren’t? You spat out the foamy toothpaste, traces of reddish-pink swirled along its surface. At least you could still bleed.
“Sleep well,” he murmured, fingers grazing your wrist as you passed by his couch. Then, he was out like a light.
You watched as he entered into a comatose type of daysleep; no breathing and no heartbeat to be found. He lay like a corpse, dead to the world — exposed, vulnerable and defenseless. Only vitae could reanimate him now.
You were glad that you couldn’t dream in this state. After what you had experienced, there would be no shortage of night terrors. Leon had mentioned about other Kindred who could hear whispers from the Abyss or the Beast in their sleep, but so far you hadn’t had to worry about that. In fact, going to sleep felt like dying all over again and for a moment you panicked, thinking you were suffocating on a bed you were unaccustomed to. But soon, you drifted off into nothingness, and your brain shut down until it was time for you to rouse the blood again.
It was an hour before sunset when you woke up, gulping in air as if you had drowned and resurfaced. Maybe it would take a couple more tries before you’d become more familiar with the feeling. You peered down from the upper level of the loft, spotting that Leon was still out cold. Funny how you were the early bird for once.
Filling a glass with the tangy, dark red liquid from his supply in the fridge, you drank it imagining it was beetroot juice. It was easier to stomach it this way. Your colleagues were expecting you at the cafe this evening, and you decided to get yourself ready to head off, paying close attention to the way you styled your hair, your makeup and even your clothes. You weren’t sure if they would be able to sense if anything was ‘off’ about you.
Leon hadn’t instructed you to do anything tonight, but it still felt as though you were a grounded kid sneaking out on a sleeping parent as you left the apartment building for a place you’d always regarded as your second home. Perhaps it would be nice to pay a visit to something you were familiar with in your previous life.
“Whoa… hey! If it isn’t the girl who came back from the dead!” Patrick called out the moment you stepped into the establishment.
You nearly choked on your saliva, and he must’ve noticed the look of absolute horror on your face, as he peppered it with, “I mean, your phone was dead, and, uh, we thought you got kidnapped or something,” while rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
Bursting into laughter from the unnecessary tension you had been holding in, you pulled him into a tight, almost desperate hug, like you’d never been happier to see him. He seemed flustered by your sudden display of affection, but returned the embrace, giving you a few awkward pats on the back.
“Y’know, something about you seems… different,” he squinted, giving you a once-over, when you released him from your grip.
Shit, did you miss a spot? Was there blood on your teeth? Could he tell that you weren’t human anymore? A barrage of thoughts raced through your mind, until you reminded yourself to play it cool with one of those jokes you usually cracked when you didn’t know what else to say.
“Yeah, guess I got pretty.” You shrugged, emitting another giggle as he rolled his eyes.
“If you were fishing for compliments, you could’ve just said so. I’m a generous man,” he retorted before heading towards the stage area to set up. “Anyway, whatever. Holler if you need me!”
As the evening crowd began to trickle in, you noticed that the two companions who seemed to know Leon, albeit on less than friendly terms, had shown up tonight as well. They waltzed over to you, though the nearer they got, the more they looked like they were treading on eggshells. You feigned busyness and the nonchalance that came with it, putting away clean glasses and helping your colleagues to take orders at the bar. It wasn’t until the male counterpart of the two thumped his broad, hefty hand on the counter top to get your attention, that you could no longer avoid the inevitable and turned his way.
“How can I help you?” you asked, putting on a well-practiced, polite smile.
“Mind if we take this somewhere more private?” It didn’t sound like he was the type to take ‘No’ for an answer.
“Um, sure?” You acted as if you were confused, but you had an inkling of where this was heading and wanted to see if your suspicions had been right all along.
Leading them to a storage area at the back, which was semi-hidden from public view, you waited for them to talk.
“So, we heard about your new status,” the man began, carefully choosing his words.
Oh boy, that explains it. “Jesus, you guys too?” you blurted out, pressing your forehead against the palm of your hand as you heaved an exaggerated sigh. “How many of you are there? And why my cafe?”
Before he could answer, you kicked a loose piece of trash on the floor in irritation and cursed out loud, “God-fucking-dammit.”
The man raised his hands halfheartedly like bear paws, his soft brown eyes looking on at you in amusement. “Sis, you sure this one’s a Toreador?” he roared out in laughter. “Smells more like one of us.”
The woman rolled her eyes, pushing her way forward in front of this hulk of a man. “Sorry about my brother, he’s not great with women.” You heard a disgruntled snort from him as she said that.
“Anyway, I’m Claire,” she mentioned rather matter-of-factly, though she hesitated a little before sticking out her hand towards you cagily, as if you might chew her head off.
You weren’t sure what all the fuss was about as you accepted it, offering a firm handshake, which seemed to surprise her. For the first time, she smiled appreciatively back at you while you followed up with a short introduction.
Turning towards the man, she indicated, “This big boy here is Chris.”
Without any pretense, you took his hand proactively, giving it a similar handshake as he glanced at his sister, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Does she know?” he questioned.
Claire ignored him, focusing on you instead as she broached the subject. “Listen, I’m gonna cut to the chase here. You and I? We’re kinda on different sides, if you catch my drift.”
You nodded at her to continue.
“Thing is, most of us Anarchs are wondering if we’re now gonna have to vacate this area, ’cause uh, well, you’re a Cammy,” she tried to put her point across as succinctly as possible. “And I don’t mean this as a threat or anything, but I gotta say, there are some who are pretty pissed that this shit went down.”
Right, the Anarchs. They were but a brief footnote in Leon’s history lesson. The ones who broke away from the Camarilla, founding their own governing structure from what they deemed as ‘oppressive rule’. You likened them to left wing radicalists against the exclusive, upper echelons of conservative society. It was a no-brainer which group out of the two you would have preferred, but unfortunately Leon had already made that choice for you.
Anger at the lack of agency you had in all of this unfurled like gaseous vapor, sluggishly rolling off the tip of your tongue. “Fuck Kindred politics and whatever form of bullshit that it comes packaged in,” you seethed. “I’m not going to play anybody’s game here. As long as you behave, you’re welcome in my books.”
Chris gave a low, drawn-out whistle through his teeth as he clapped measuredly in response, somewhat impressed by your impassioned speech. “I like this one; she’s got some bite,” he told Claire before addressing you wistfully, “Damn, you would’ve made a great baby Brujah.”
No prizes for guessing that these two belonged to that clan. Rabble-rousers, spirited fighters, but intellectuals all the same. You wondered what it would’ve been like to join them. Were you merely a Toreador by lineage alone, shoehorned into the clan because of some forlorn love that your sire had for you? One that you were conflicted in reciprocating. Or did you actually have the heart of Brujah instead? What would happen if you didn’t belong in your clan?
“Yeah, that’s a shame,” she agreed. “Though you are a bit like Leon in some ways.”
“Claire!” her brother warned. It was his turn to knock some sense into her.
“What do you mean by that?” you pried, aghast that they could find any similarities between you and the man who broke your trust.
She opened her mouth to say something further, but he gripped her arm as his eyes narrowed at her.
Wedging yourself between the two of them, you demanded, “You can’t just bring him up and leave me hanging?!”
“See what you’ve done now?” he fumed, the corners of his mouth drawn downwards into a pronounced frown.
“Chris, she’s gonna find out sooner or later,” she fired back.
“Will someone just tell me what the fuck is going on?” you groaned in exasperation.
Chris let go of Claire roughly. “Fine, sis,” he grunted. “But you deal with the aftermath.”
Yanking her arm away, she tugged her devilish red leather jacket down by the lapels to straighten it, before explaining, “Leon used to run with the Anarchs for a while. Well, not officially, according to the Cam, but I would’ve considered him like a brother.”
Shooting daggers at Chris, she added snippily, “Apparently, having one already wasn’t enough, so I had to torture myself with more.”
Chris shoved a fist into his chest, as though an arrow had pierced his heart. “Ouch, that hurts,” he grunted mockingly.
Your jaw dropped at the story that Claire spilled to you. Leon as an Anarch? You could never imagine him joining the cause.
“No way that prissy ass, stuck-up, boy band reject switched sides,” you exclaimed, as Chris stifled a guffaw at your insults. It was evident from your tone that your pent-up frustration over Leon’s convenient omissions and hypocrisy had reached its boiling point.
“Way,” she rebutted smugly. “And I don’t blame you; I’d be mad as hell too if I were in your shoes. Unfortunately, Leon was always guided more by his emotions.”
Expelling a weary sigh, you leaned your arm against the wall and buried your head in the crook of your elbow to steady yourself. “I don’t understand this guy.”
Claire threw you a sympathetic look as she continued, “Now, this is just a hunch, but I’m pretty damn sure he was about to defect to us, when the Cam got him by the balls.”
You perked up, arching your eyebrows as a quizzical expression spread across your face. “With what?”
“That’s a good question. We don’t know,” she admitted, exchanging perplexed glances with Chris that could rival yours. “But must’ve been something nasty.”
You wondered if Leon would tell you if you asked him. But seeing as how he’d already been keeping secrets from you, either out of a misguided belief that it was for your own good or for more malicious reasons, you weren’t optimistic. Maybe you’d wrangle it out of him someday. After all, he owed you — a lot.
“Anyway, you both seem, um, cool? We should stay in touch,” you suggested, suddenly unsure of whether things like this worked the same way in the Kindred world. Perhaps you were overthinking it.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Claire flashed a grin. “We’re not going anywhere.”
At that moment, something caught Chris’ eye and his previously jovial expression turned solemn. Leaning in, he mumbled into your ear, “By the way, your vampire daddy is here.”
Vampire daddy?
You angled your head to peek in Chris’ line of sight and near the entrance of the cafe, you could make out Leon glaring in your direction. Uh oh, were you in trouble?
“Ha ha, very funny, Chris,” you articulated sarcastically, but before you could make your way over, Leon had beaten you to it, already standing by your side with his hand on your shoulder.
“I see you’ve been getting acquainted with my protegé?” his innocuous question taking on an accusing tone.
You couldn’t comprehend what the hostility was for. “Yeah, turns out they’re actually great company, so why don’t you back off?”
Chris snickered in the corner as Leon clenched his jaw, visibly incensed by your interference. Wheeling you around, he backed you against the nearby wall, palms flat against either side of your head, caging you in with his body.
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he growled. “And don’t ever interrupt me again.”
His reprimand resounded in your ears which were now bright red; you weren’t sure whether it was from embarrassment or anger, or both. Swallowing a lump in your throat, your eyes darted from his glittering blue ones to his full lips, which were a hair’s breadth away from yours. He remained unmoving, but you could see his features darkening and a conflict brewing in his mind. Warmth pooled in your chest and your face flushed, remembering that same electric rush you felt the last time he was this close to you at the arbors. Was this what you were attracted to — the danger and excitement? Or was there something more to it?
“Having fun babysitting, Kennedy?” Claire’s voice pierced through the mounting tension in the room.
That broke his trance as he peeled himself away from you diffidently, carding his fingers through his hair as its silky strands fell back into his face. “Good to see you too, Redfield,” he remarked dryly. “Still running your mouth like you used to, huh? Guess nothing’s changed.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she shifted her weight to one hip and sassily replied, “Could say the same about you. I mean, you always did have a thing for… interesting women.”
He scoffed, brushing her comment aside with a shake of his head as he steered the conversation onto a different topic. “I need you to do something for me.”
Claire opened her mouth to say something, but he raised his finger to silence her. “Uh-uh, let me finish. This concerns all of our skins. I assume you’re aware of the incident that happened the other night?”
“Yeah, it was pretty fucked up,” Chris attested, speaking on behalf of his sibling, before glancing at you and mouthing “Sorry.”
You gave him a sad, side smile in recognition. It seemed like no matter how you tried to avoid it, you were fated to be reminded of your passing again and again.
“I’m not pointing fingers here, but it’s likely there are more players than the Sabbat involved,” Leon explained.
At this, Claire raised her voice defensively, “Are you trying to pin this on us? You think one of us was responsible?”
Her brother, who seemed to be the more collected one, patted her shoulder a few times, indicating for her to stand down and listen to what else Leon had to say.
Leon nodded curtly at him, as if they shared some sort of unspoken brothers-in-arms code that you and Claire weren't part of. “No one’s blaming the Anarchs. At least, not yet. I made sure of that,” he pledged.
Claire pressed her lips into a thin line; you could see her bristling at Leon’s words. However, she knew that he had done something to prevent Wesker from launching a full-frontal assault and destroying the Anarch conclave in one go.
“That suitor you mentioned…” he trailed off with a slight pause, and for some reason you felt all pairs of eyes land uneasily on you for a brief second before he continued. “The one interested in the East Side domain.”
“Yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” she snapped, obviously uncomfortable with the way this discussion was headed.
“What if it was no accident that she was there,” he suggested, pointing at you as more questions popped up in your head. God, you hated how they talked in riddles sometimes.
Waving her hands about frantically, she rejected this notion and went on a vehement tirade, “That’s nuts! Are you even listening to yourself? You sound fucking insane, how the hell—”
Though, once again, her brother stepped in as the voice of reason, “He’s right, it could be a power play.”
“It could be many things,” Leon corrected, trying to appease the siblings. “I’m just saying we need to keep an eye out. After all, we’re only pawns in this game,” he added cynically.
“And don’t try to argue with me on that, Claire,” he preempted. “You and I both know there’s bullshit within the Anarch ranks too.”
This time, she kept her mouth shut, though her face was still livid.
“Regardless of the politics, another incident like this and we’ll be wiped by the SI, I can guarantee you that,” he stated bluntly.
“He’s got a point,” Chris established, looking over at his sister to see how she was faring.
Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she let out an aggravated groan, “Ugh, fine! We’ll see if we can find any dirt on him.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Leon squeezed her shoulder in gratitude before cautioning, “It goes without saying that this stays between us.” His eyes flitted momentarily to where you stood. “Including you.”
To his satisfaction, you bowed your head slightly in acknowledgement, making a mental note to run through some points with him later on.
As the siblings prepared to set off, Claire turned around to address Leon for a final time, “Guess we’ll be seeing you around here more often.”
Smirking at the dumbfounded expression on his face, she affirmed, “Your protegé declared the grounds as neutral… again.”
With that, they went back to join the crowd in the front of the cafe, leaving the both of you to your own devices.
“Couldn’t you have waited before making a decision like that?” Leon chided, sighing heavily as his eyes searched yours for an explanation.
Unfortunately for him, this time, you had the upper hand. “What was that about not ordering me around in my cafe?” you challenged, chuckling to yourself quietly. “Or did you already forget, Kennedy?”
He glowered at you, realizing a little too late that he’d locked himself into such a deal the night before. Luckily, he still had an ace up his sleeve. “That only works up to a certain extent. Remember, you’re still a fledgling under my care.”
“Right, the sire card,” you simmered, tired of the constant antagonistic exchanges with the man. “Anything else you wanna toss in while we’re at it?”
“Look, I don’t want to keep fighting with you,” he admitted, his gaze softening as his fingers grazed your cheek lightly.
If you were honest with yourself, that was what you longed for as well. “Then don’t give me a reason to,” you breathed, lowering your eyes as you reinstated a suitable distance from him, to avoid any further misgivings.
“I’ll see you later at home,” you whispered, your finger absently tracing the length of his arm as you walked away.
━━━━━━━━━━━
For the rest of the evening, Leon left you alone at the cafe, and though he sat at his usual spot while he was there, he left at some point halfway through without saying goodbye. On the one hand, you felt relieved that you didn’t have to speak with him further, but on the other, it smarted a little to know that he had ignored you afterwards.
The cafe was bustling with activity as usual, and it was as if you had never left. You found solace in the routine you had set yourself, helping out with the technical system, pouring drinks for guests and taking turns with your colleagues to announce bingo numbers on stage. Of all nights it was Bingo Night. Someone won a travel-sized steam iron while another snagged themselves a pastel-colored riding crop adorned with ribbons. The random prizes made it fun, as evidenced by the giggling faces of the crowd who made their way up to the stage to receive them.
You shared a smile with Patrick, sweating in the muggy air, as the house lights reflected across shiny surfaces, glitter on skin and bejeweled décolletés. The room was cast in a warm, golden glow, soft and blurred on the edges like a Rembrandt painting. Even though time slipped through your fingers like fine sand, things seemed to move in slow motion. You missed this; you missed living, just like the rest of them. Now you could only impersonate life, and watch as the rest of the world grew older while you didn’t, and your friends drop like flies, rotting in their graves while you mourn their loss.
Hot, fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you wiped them away with the back of your hand, still smiling, teeth showing through the pain. Patrick looked over at you in concern and you laughed, dismissing it as being overcome with emotion. What was it—? Your period’s coming? Too many late nights and not enough sleep? Just tiredness, you feigned. Bidding your colleagues goodnight, you trudged out into the sinking cold, already craving the comfort of being surrounded by people, both strangers and companions alike.
You were lost in your thoughts the whole way back to Leon’s place, so much so that you didn’t even hear him greet you when you came in. It was only after the second time he had called out that you realized you were being spoken to.
“Is something bothering you?” he asked, worried that your current state of mind might have to do with how he had treated you earlier.
Collapsing onto the couch, you let your legs spread out limply over the edge, fiddling with your thumbs. It was not like you could go on social media anymore and chat with your friends on there. Not when your smartphone had been confiscated and all you had left was a semi-allowed, shitty flip phone which was mainly good enough for playing Snake.
You shook your head, but he still came round to sit beside you, holding a metallic, hexagonal contraption in his hand that he had been tinkering with at his study desk. That was when you noticed the reading glasses hanging loosely by a silver chain around his neck. The oddness of his get up momentarily distracted you from your previous troubles.
“You still need those?” you questioned, gesturing towards the dated-looking spectacles before his chest.
“These?” He raised them up, closing one eye as he squinted through the lenses, inspecting for dust. Sticking the tip of his tongue out between his teeth, he rubbed them clean with the hem of his iron-pressed white shirt. It seemed like he was used to them, and had worn them for a very long time.
“No, I don’t,” he answered plainly. “But old habits die hard.”
“They do, don’t they?” you remarked with a bitter smile. “Chasing after things that make you human?”
He sighed, understanding full well the predicament you were in and that he didn’t exactly have a remedy for it. Yet, there was no point in lying to you.
“I do, and many others do, until we can’t anymore,” he stated. “We’re just a wolf in sheep’s clothing and inherently evil — at least, that’s what the pessimists think.”
What he had mentioned was bleak, but at the same time, you appreciated his honesty, which, in your opinion, had been lacking lately. “What do you think?” you probed, eyeing him with curiosity.
He pondered on it for a while before he spoke, “I don’t believe a word they say,” he confessed. Cradling your chin with his fingers, he lifted it towards him. “You are human enough. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different,” he instructed, brushing his thumb tenderly along your bottom lip.
You felt heat rise towards your cheeks as you actively searched for something else to grab his attention. The contraption — it was lying at his side. “Is that a puzzle box?” you managed to cough out.
“Hm? Oh, yeah,” he muttered self-consciously, handing it to you as you pulled away from each other. “Wanna give it a go?”
He looked at you expectantly as you twisted and turned the various segments of the device like a Rubik’s cube, some of which clicked into place softly, while others remained unfettered and movable. A toothy grin broke out across his face as you motioned to him for help with the remaining steps and he jumped in, placing his hands over yours to connect the remaining steps.
Before your mind could process the closeness of your bodies and his touch, the contraption connected entirely, unlocking and unfolding itself into a flattened shape. He beamed at the object in triumph, as though he had achieved something remarkable.
“You built this yourself?” you asked, tracing its ridges, impressed with his creativity and craftsmanship.
“Yeah, I've loved puzzles since I was a child,” he explained. “Maybe that’s why I went into solving crimes, huh?” Raising his arms, he stretched himself out and yawned.
“Anyway, it kind of reminds me of better days,” he added melancholically. “When things were simpler.”
“I would’ve liked to get to know you back then,” you said, only realizing a second later that you had uttered your thoughts out loud. You had to restrain yourself from clamping a hand over your mouth in response.
His face melted at your words, though he kept his distance, uncertain about the mixed signals you’d been sending before. “That’s nice, but you probably weren’t even born yet,” he teased.
You snorted, surprised that he still had the ability to crack you up. “How old are you even?”
“Rude,” he scolded, wagging his finger at you.
Rolling your eyes, you propped yourself up on the couch, suddenly invested in learning about the man’s age. “Come on, tell me,” you coaxed. “I promise to be on my best behavior for a day in exchange.”
“A day?” he guffawed, shaking his head. His bangs swished from side to side as his eyes crinkled in amusement. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“Hey, take it or leave it, old man,” you taunted, turning towards him with an impish smirk.
“That’s a low blow, even for you,” he tutted, pausing briefly before revealing, “'77, I was born then. Embraced when I was 24… or was it 25? It’s been a while.”
“Oh, so you’re not that old then,” you pointed out, mentally calculating that he must’ve been in his unlife for just about over 20 years.
Ever the optimist, he shrugged, unruffled by your comment. “Guess I should take that as a compliment.”
Both of you erupted into peals of laughter — the first genuine one you’ve had in a while. This was how it should’ve been. No tears, no politics, no drama, just easy-going conversations learning about each other. You continued talking a bit more about the past, how he was like, how you were like, and you contemplated if you were just clinging onto things that didn’t exist anymore. He had changed and so did you, but when you looked at a person as a whole, their histories made them who they were. You wanted to accept all of him, though a barrier still stood in your way.
“Can I trust you to always be honest with me?” you raised out of the blue in the middle of your conversation with him.
He was taken aback at first by the sudden request, wondering if there was more to it.
Scooting closer to him, you added, “Even if it’s bad, I want to know.”
It was a lot to ask of him, considering how much the Kindred world relied on secrets, games and deceit. But he knew it was important to you, especially in earning back your trust. A voice in his head, which he had grown accustomed to after being burned time and time again, warned him about betrayal. She’s no different from the others… it said in a garbled, distorted tone, like someone speaking underwater. She’ll use it against you.
Call him naive or stupid, but he went ahead anyway. You could bring him to his knees to beg, and he would still do it gladly. “I’ll try,” he whispered, aware that he was on the verge of signing his unlife away. “You can ask me anything you’d like.”
Your hand pressed lightly against his chest, smoothing out the creases in his clothes as you swept it upwards to his neck. Your caress against his weak spot caused his breath to hitch. Toying with the trace chain hugging his skin, you pried, “Did the suitor you were talking about with Claire have something to do with me?”
Right away, a shadow cast across his face and his eyes clouded over. Withdrawing your hand, you began to regret your choice of words to begin with.
#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#porcelainscribbles
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Into the Ether (4)
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, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.
Authors' Note: Lots of blood drinking (+ its underlying issues), suggestive themes, mention of bodily fluids, and at least dubious consent for vampire turning ahead.
Taglist: @admirxation @xoxostarlet @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️🔥
AO3 Link
Chapter 4: Bury Me
Leon had reached a row of converted Victorian-style residential buildings in the Lower West Side of Uptown Raccoon City. Tall, stained glass windows lined their exterior, accented with a mixture of gabled and Mansard roofs. Pointed arches embellished with corbels and fretwork adorned the structures, detailing their rich architectural history. Despite them appearing frozen in time, harking back to the 19th century, everything else had been modernized for their inhabitants.
Scanning his keycard on the reader, he slipped in through the back entrance and hurried towards the rarely used service elevator that was stationed out of sight in a narrow corridor at the rear end of the building. He swiped his card again to gain access to his specific apartment floor, punching the button several times erratically, even though it had already lit up on the first try. Upon noticing that he had accidentally smudged blood from his hands onto it, he muttered a string of curses while using the cuff of his shirt to wipe it off.
Holding you close, he planted a desperate kiss against the crown of your head, as if by some miracle you would wake up from this nightmare, safe and sound in his arms. Your body temperature had dropped considerably, and with each passing second, he could feel your vitals waning as your life force ebbed into oblivion.
“Come on, stay with me,” he begged, his visage crumbling under the weight of grief, and out of habit, he thumbed at the gold cross pendant hanging from his necklace. If there was a god, he would let you live.
As soon as the elevator doors parted with a resonant ding, he sped out towards the only apartment door on the top floor. Feeling the side of the frame for a familiar indent, he pressed against it, and a matchbox sized cache slid out, containing a crescent shaped device. Attaching it to another metallic apparatus that he carried around in his pocket, he slotted it through the keyhole while simultaneously adjusting what looked like gears of an old-fashioned clock into place.
Despite all these years, he still had a penchant for puzzle solving, seeing as his former workplace, the Raccoon Police Station, had been a labyrinth in itself. And what better way to put his hobby to use than to invest into the security of his haven, by creating his own intricate lock mechanisms, complete with false walls and hidden passageways. It may seem a little over the top, but sometimes it was comforting to lose his nights designing and crafting the things that had made him human in the beginning.
With a satisfying click, the heavyset door creaked open on its hinges, revealing an immaculately kept and minimalist loft. He dashed in, shutting the door behind him before pushing the coffee table away and setting you down gently on the rug. You were the only blemish in the room, bleeding out from underneath him, staining the fabric in the pattern of angel’s wings.
He felt your pulse, weak and unsteady, and you were nearly gone. It crushed him to see you like this, your skin ashen and pale — the only shade of blue he never liked. As you lay there unresponsive like a corpse before him, he knew he needed to go through with what he had planned for you all long along. Even so, he had a hard time coming to terms with it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! He was meant to woo you, give you a taste of what the unlife had to offer, bring you over to his side and both of you would, what—? Live happily ever after?
Fucking hell, Leon. What the fuck were you thinking? he swore at himself internally. Ada’s words came back to haunt him. She was right, he had let his emotions get ahead of him again. Regardless, he had to fix this mess, and letting you die was out of the question, as was turning you into a mindless ghoul addicted to a blood bond. No, he would never do that to you.
“Forgive me,” he murmured, brushing the strands of your hair, which had clumped together in dried blood and sweat, out of your face. You were so deathly cold in your slumber…
Then, he broke the first of his promises and drained you dry. Images of you flooded his mind again as he latched his mouth onto your neck. He could feel your fears, your joys, and your sorrows. The first steps you had taken as a child, captured through the lens of an old home video; the family and friends you would leave behind; long, solitary walks in the woods; dancing your heart out in smoky nightclubs; ceiling-high shelves filled to the brim with musty books and DIY costumes you’d pieced together from scraps; every trinket and memento — all the signs of life that had made you happy.
There was no time for regrets. He could make you happier, he vowed. He will, he had to.
At the very last drop, he licked the bite marks close and let go, slashing his wrist against his teeth before placing it to your lips. His own sanguine fluid coated your lips in a cherry red stain, restoring a semblance of life to your otherwise waxen complexion, as it dripped down your throat. Slowly, your jaw began to move, lips puckering up as it suctioned against the open wound, the tip of your tongue licking across it over and over again like the sweetest nectar you’d ever savored.
“There you go, angel,” he panted, feeling the pressure grow taut around his wrist as he stroked your hair tenderly with his other hand. “Just a bit more.”
He concentrated on the act, investing the power of his vitae into you, passing on the curse of Caine which he had carried with him all this while. On top of that came the Bane and Compulsion of his clan, as well as its Disciplines and strengths.
You couldn’t explain why your body reacted so naturally to it, but your appetite for his vitae was insatiable, like an insurmountable tidal wave heading towards shore. Your eyes flew open and you caught his ocean blue gaze. Gasping for breath, you clamped down on his wrist even harder, earning you a gratifying moan that fell from his lips, as they twisted into an expression of excruciating euphoria.
Likewise, you felt the build up of sheer bliss with an underlying tinge of agony within you, as you continued drinking from him, unable to stop yourself, no matter how much you tried. Every fiber of your being burned like a warm, inviting flame. You were the epitome of a phoenix in a pyre, combusting and being reborn again, walking barefoot across searing hot coal unharmed, as the fire raged on. From ashes to ashes, dust to dust, into eternal life.
And then he appeared before you like an ethereal, ghostly apparition, kneeling in the pews of a cathedral you didn’t recognize, praying fervently to a crucified man on a wooden cross. Subsequently, the scene switched to a hectic office space, permeated with the shrill sound of phones ringing and papers flying in every direction. There he stood in the center of the room, like the eye of a storm, a handgun secured in his holster as he moved the pins around on a crime board. One vision blurred into the other and it felt as if you were seeing his past, present and future all at once.
An immense rush of ecstasy filled your senses at the final image of you riding him like a horse, as if you were experiencing it for yourself firsthand. Sweat poured down your naked bodies as you rolled your hips back and forth against his lasciviously. His calloused hands squeezed the sides of your thighs, encouraging you to move faster as he thrust up into you. In the throes of passion, you threw your head back and cried out in excess, but found it muffled against his wrist as you abruptly returned to reality. Your eyes went straight to his, and the knowing look on his face gave it away, confirming that you had partaken in the last vision together.
The Beast was gnawing at the cage in his chest again as you suckled more of his vitae. A hunger arose within him and he was aware that the deed had been done. The primary hurdle was getting you to stop.
“Angel, my love,” he called to you softly, “That’s all I can give you.”
You had heard every word he said; they were crystal clear, but your head remained fuzzy, as if it were wrapped in layers of cotton wool, dampening your thoughts. He could see it in your glazed eyes that you were unable to register what he had requested of you, but he couldn’t bear to tear himself away.
“Please, angel,” he whimpered. “Let go.”
At that point, something in you clicked. Perhaps it was the sight of a broken man, crouched in the middle of his living room, weary from all the bloodshed and the cruel hand fate had dealt him tonight. You wanted to do everything you could to soothe his pain. The same pain that had crept up in his voice the night he put you to bed, and when he had wondered out loud in the park if you could accept him for who he was.
Loosening your grip, you tilted back, allowing him to retract his hand as you ingested the rest of his vitae in your mouth. Nothing could ever come close to the intensity of what you had just felt. Gradually, you came down from the high and your ragged breathing evened out. A numbing weight pressed against your body as your eyes fluttered before closing. Was this it? Was this the end? All you could think of was what a peaceful way it was to die.
A shiver ran down his spine as Leon caressed your cheek, watching you fall back to sleep again. Even his own Embrace hadn’t gone this far. Of course it had been the best thing he had felt in the world, but this, with you? It was on a completely different plane. The memories, the shared sexual intimacy, how—? Did he hallucinate that? He still hadn’t figured it out. It was something for maybe the Tremere, unfortunately, to advise on.
But he had bigger things to worry about now. This was only a temporary respite before you would awake in torment, and he needed to find a way to ease that as quickly as possible, despite being so ill-prepared. It would be the first lesson he’d have to teach you and one of the worst.
━━━━━━━━━━━
A set of steely arms wrapped around you the moment your body jolted upright as you came to. Disoriented and unable to think straight, you struggled to break out of their hold as you heard Leon’s voice in your ear, “Shhh… it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s me.”
You tried to speak but only unintelligible growls escaped your mouth and you continued thrashing about wildly, as a gut-wrenching pain ripped through your flesh and bones. It felt like hundreds of rats were clawing their way out of your stomach as your eyes searched the room rabidly for the offending source that was driving you insane.
And then you saw him. A man in a fancy business suit, unconscious but propped up against the wall. His hands were bound with rope and a nasty bruise swelled at the side of his head. You let out a torturous wail when it finally dawned on you that the very substance you had been lusting after was his blood. It smelled incredible from where you were seated and you were frothing at the mouth like a deranged animal.
What the fuck was going on?! your mind screamed, while you made guttural noises in retaliation. Is this—? Oh god, no! What did he do to me?
There was a persistent throb in your corner teeth, as if they had been plucked out by force and something foreign had been put in its place. You ran your tongue over them, they were elongated and sharp. Just like-
Leon? He pulled you flush against his chest, trapping you in his iron grip, and with a sense of urgency, he spelled out, “Listen to me, you’re not gonna like this, but you need to feed on him.”
Shaking your head violently, your eyes rolled back as if you were possessed by a demonic entity, while you fought with all your might against him and your overzealous hunger. No, no, no, fuck that! I won’t—!
“If you don’t, you will lose control and murder everyone in your path,” he explained.
Noticing how you continued to resist him vehemently, he added, “You won’t have to kill him, I can show you how.”
You whined, scratching at his hands and crying like a hapless pup. There was no need for you to articulate it in words. He understood everything you were going through — the inner turmoil and mental dilemma at your first feed. Except, you had it worse off than him. At least back then, he knew what he was getting himself into and accepted it. You just didn’t have the privilege of time.
Shambling across the floorboards, he brought you closer to the man. “It’s not easy in this state, but you’re strong, and smart. I know you can.” He paused, shifting his grip on you so that he could point out an obscured trail along the man’s neck. “You need to hit one of the arteries or veins for a clean feed. Usually, you’d take it slow and be more careful, but we don’t really have an option tonight.”
Suppressing another painful whine, you tried your utmost to follow his instructions as a beast-like creature went berserk in your chest, bashing it way through your ribcage. Focusing on the area he had identified, you could more or less make out the veins protruding from his skin, like an ultrasound.
“Here, the jugular,” he indicated. “You can start with that, but don’t drain him fully. I’ll help you to stop, just remember to lick it close at the end, okay?”
Nodding, you sobbed out a vague agreement, though your feet were kicking out furiously, itching to be set free. It felt like your mind and body had been separated in two, and neither worked in tandem with each other. The scent of this man’s blood was overpowering, it was making you giddy.
As soon as he let you go, you lurched forward, grabbing the man’s neck roughly as you plunged your teeth into the vein you’d singled out. A viscous, intoxicating liquid enveloped your mouth as you had your fill. Raw energy flowed from one end to another, restoring function to your organs and limbs, as they began to come under your control again. The more you drank, the clearer your mind became, and the Beast within you quietened, satiated from the elixir that seemed to nourish your entire being and soul. Soul? Did you still have one, especially after this?
From a distance you heard your name, accompanied by an appeal to cut it short. Once again, you were thrown into the depths of a battlefield, where each side struggled for dominance as its victor. It felt too good to end it here. Why should you obey? a voice inside you sneered.
A pair of hands gripped your shoulders from behind. Leon’s tone was stern and resolute: “Stop, lick the wound now.”
His command reverberated through your hollow chest, rattling your bones as you submitted to him. Swabbing your tongue over the puncture site, you released your prey as Leon pulled you away. Splotches of bright crimson covered the man’s attire as well as your own. It had been a messy affair.
“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry.” His voice was tender again, as he turned your face to his. Dragging his fingertip along the spilled blood trickling down your throat, he scooped up the remains and sucked it into his mouth.
By now, he was an expert in cleaning up after his elders, having done his fair share of dirty errands. That’s what neonates like him were good for. At least it would come in handy tonight. The man was still alive, drowsy as hell, but his heart was beating. He had taught you well.
“You did this to me.” The accusation rang like the toll of a bell in his ears, as he watched your expression change into one of pure hatred and disgust.
But before you could continue on with the verbal onslaught you had been saving up for him, a debilitating pain struck, blinding you in the process as you clutched your abdomen and trembled turbulently. What—? When will this ever end?
You were physically dealing with the bitter aftermath of being snatched from the hands of death and flung into rebirth through abnormal means. Anything within you that didn’t need to be there anymore would be cleansed in the next few hours, as your body was dying and disposing of the needless waste. It was not like this in the movies. You wanted to laugh at the outright ridiculousness of it, but all you managed were terrified shrieks.
It was humiliating to be brought down this low in front of him — the man who went from someone you had started to fall for to the last person in the world you wanted to be in the same room with. You hated him for what he had done to you. The fire came back, but this time it was like being burnt at the stake; it was harrowing.
To Leon, you could never degrade yourself in his eyes. He stayed with you the whole time, rubbing reassuring circles on your back as you writhed in agony, dirtying his rug with vomit and piss.
Though she had cared in her own way, Ada never did this for him. He remembered his transformation like it was just yesterday. The serene peach walls of her bathroom, equipped with fluffy towels, aromatic diffusers, and soft music playing in the background, like a spa he couldn’t enjoy. He had been tucked away safely in the bathtub, the door locked on him, as he shivered uncontrollably like a junkie. She couldn’t bear to see him like this — his face covered in snot, stinking up the place with a vacant look in his eyes. It was a mess, but a controlled one.
With you, he wanted it all — the good and the bad. He couldn’t offer you the luxuries that Ada had with him, but he would be there beside you, taking care of you like the sire he desired to be.
━━━━━━━━━━━
There was a sense of déjà vu when you awakened for the second time that night. Or was it morning? You couldn’t be sure anymore. Somehow, you had ended up on a double bed that wasn’t your own and in clothes that you’d never wear — not unless you were a lingerie model on the cover of a magazine spread, or one of those rich housewives looking to spice things up in the bedroom. In your last conscious moments, you thought you had soiled yourself, but now you were squeaky clean. Did Leon—?
“Hey.”
Speak of the devil.
You whipped your head in his direction, and saw him leaning against the banister of the stairs that connected the partially open, mezzanine-like level to the main floor below, which it overlooked. Out of a sense of self-preservation and modesty, you crossed your arms over your chest, hugging yourself tightly.
Stifling a laugh, he smiled at you bashfully like a teenage boy in front of his first crush. “It’s, um, my sire’s.” He gestured towards your outfit. “I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t have anything else.”
Sire? Letting yourself go, you peered down at the fitting lace chemise that clung to your body, still feeling vulnerable and naked under his gaze, as you speculated over what he meant.
“It suits you,” he complimented, either oblivious to your bemusement or attempting not broach the subject at this point.
The remark he had made, even if with good intentions, made your blood boil. “Does turning me into a monster suit me?” you spat, getting up from the bed as you strode towards him in fury.
A flicker of remorse flashed across his eyes and his breath hitched. He thought he could stall for time and reconcile with you before having the talk, but he had been blindsided by your astuteness. Despite that, he tried to pacify you. “Angel…”
But you weren’t having any of it. “Shut up!” you hollered, slapping him hard across the face. The blow was harsh enough to send his head snapping to the side, leaving a vivid red handprint marked on his cheek. “I’m not your angel, and never will be!”
He could’ve punished you for your insolence, but chose to suck it up and tolerate it. You were clearly struggling to accept your new circumstances.
“Okay, I deserve that,” he conceded, gingerly rubbing the side of his face where it stung.
You didn’t seem to care though, in fact, you were absolutely livid to the point where you couldn’t speak. Casting him a venomous look of disdain, you drew in labored breaths, your chest rising and falling in rapid, heaving motions.
His watery eyes met yours, and you saw the pain and hurt brimming in them. “You would’ve died back there,” he whispered. “I couldn’t let that happen to you.”
Shaking your head in disbelief, you withdrew from him, gripping the edge of the bedpost so intensely that a huge chunk of it broke off. Wait, just how strong were you now?
He glanced over at the damage and winced. Dammit, I liked that bed, he sighed to himself.
“I wish I did,” you muttered, eyeing the piece of metal in your hand skeptically before chucking it to the side. “You could’ve done your job and buried me.”
That was when he lost his cool. “Don’t say that,” he hissed sharply, his gaze smoldering like dying embers, as he marched forward, seizing your wrist to prevent you from backing away. “I just wanted to help—”
“Help?” you questioned testily, challenging him head on with a fierce glare. “You forced me to drink some guy’s blood!”
“You would’ve died,” he reiterated, using the same excuse in a loop as if he never heard you.
“He could’ve died!” you retorted, with the same stupid line of argument that Leon had been falling back on each time.
“Well, he didn’t, and he’s fine!” He threw his hands up in the air in frustration and huffed as he pivoted to one side, before turning back to shoot daggers at you. “A little anemic, but fine!” he expounded for good measure.
There was a slight pause until you fired back, “Go fuck yourself, Leon S. Kennedy,” letting every syllable of his full name roll off your tongue mockingly.
A low growl erupted from his sternum. He wanted to yank you roughly by the hair, throw you onto the bed and teach you a lesson. Jesus Christ, Leon, don’t go there. Get a hold of yourself!
Instead, he bottled up his anger and composed himself. Releasing a deep, slow breath, he evened out his tone, reasoning with you. “Look, like it or not, you need to come to terms with… what you are.”
You hadn’t backtalked him yet; that was a good sign.
“If you want to survive these nights, then I’m the best shot you got.”
Even though you held nothing but contempt towards him in your heart at that very moment, you realized that ultimately, he had a point. And so, you grudgingly raised the white flag. “Fine,” you relented. “But I will never forgive you.”
Another compromise. He could work with that, for now.
#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#porcelainscribbles
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Into the Ether (5)
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, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.
Authors' Note: Some violence ahead.
Taglist: @admirxation @xoxostarlet @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️🔥
AO3 Link
Chapter 5: Elysium
Within the next 24 hours, you had been given a crash course into vampiric, or otherwise known as Kindred, unlife. Leon taught you how to rouse the blood, something you would need to do every night before you could rise from your dead slumber.
“Never go to bed hungry,” he warned. “You may not wake up for weeks.”
The next important thing was to use it for what he called the ‘Blush of Life’, so that you could pretend to look human. Without it, your skin was the color of ash, you were icy cold to touch and had no heartbeat. You remembered the shock on your face when you peered in the mirror at your grayish body and listless eyes. Resting his hand on your shoulder, he murmured, “You’re still beautiful to me.” You shrugged it off without a response.
Mending wounds required rousing the blood and so did using certain powers within ‘Disciplines’, but you hadn’t fully crossed that bridge yet. Apparently by focusing and channeling it through your blood, you would eventually be able to call upon the innate gifts endowed by your clan.
Some already occurred passively for you. Like when Leon tested you by hurling a glass at your face spontaneously. You caught it with perfect timing, assuming it was just by pure luck. But he rewarded you by throwing another, which you seized again flawlessly; your reflexes working double time compared to normal. He said it was dubbed ‘Celerity’.
“What the fuck, Leon?” you seethed, before smashing the glasses to the ground.
He sighed. It was gonna be a long night.
As for the other abilities, they would come with time as you honed your craft. Leon appeared to be positively cheerful about the whole thing though. “You’re doing really well,” he praised. “I’m sure you’ll pick them up fairly quickly, especially the simpler ones.”
“Like the Jedi mind trick?” you scoffed, referring to the time he pulled that on you in the park.
Pursing his lips, he ignored your jibe and clarified cautiously, “Yes, though that would be under Presence.”
He stretched out his back on his armchair; it took a lot out of his patience to educate you. You weren’t the easiest student to handle, seeing as how you were the opposite of what he had been like with Ada, always challenging him head-on, as if you were trying to catch him out on any slips he made. Not to mention the endless snarky remarks you doled out.
“There’s one more — Auspex, but we don’t have to worry about all of this for now.”
You huffed, shaking your head at all the strange terminology you had to put up with this evening. There were many things that depended on rousing, but that also meant that sometimes your hunger would increase. It was like Russian Roulette, you never knew when you’d get hit. And then, the topic that you’d been dreading came up.
“Feeding,” he began. “There are many ways to do it, but keep it discreet.”
“I’m sure bashing the guy on the head the other night was warranted,” you argued, your tone still fraught with bitterness.
His brows knitted into a slight frown. “It was an emergency,” he muttered, before attempting to change the subject.
Heading towards the fridge in his open plan kitchen, he opened it and handed you what appeared to be a blood bag. “If you want, you could try one of these… but they’re not to everyone’s tastes.”
You squished the liquid contents inside the PVC bag between your hands, causing it to pool on one side and then the other. Playing with your food. You shuddered. The concept was still so alien to you.
“The medical ones are almost undrinkable. However, the unprocessed ones could work, at least for you. Doesn’t really do anything for the older ones among us,” he explained, though there was a momentary pause when he noticed your discomfort.
“Hey, you okay?” Reaching out for the bag, he placed it back on the fridge shelf after you surrendered the item to him silently. “I know it’s a lot to take in right now. But, uh, we can go slow.” He swallowed anxiously, hoping he hadn’t touched a raw nerve with the subject matter.
Gesturing towards the compartment, he mentioned, “I have a couple of these in here now. You’re free to have them at any time… or not.”
“Yeah, sure, thanks,” you mumbled, nodding despondently as you turned in the other direction. He was trying to be nice, but everything that had happened so far felt like a bad dream you wanted to escape from. You still couldn’t accept your new reality.
“Would you like to take a break?” he asked tentatively. “We don’t have to continue with this tonight, if you want.”
Clearing your throat, you waved away his concern, trying to put on a brave front. “No, it’s fine. You said it won’t be long before we’d be called in front of the Prince… and Sheriff?” The pitch of your voice rose at the end of your sentence, uncertain of whether you had used the right titles; they sounded foreign to you, as if you were living in medieval times.
He had already explained to you the rough details of what had happened when you’d been attacked. It was difficult to wrap your head around the implications behind it, but the demonic face of your assailant continued to haunt you. Did you now have to testify in a sort of court? Would they bring you in for further questioning? How exactly did the judicial process work in this world?
According to Leon, Kindred culture and politics were a completely different ball game from those in the mortal world. So, as much as you had a tendency to wing it in your previous life, you were way out of your league in this one.
“I’m guessing with the shit that went down, I should try to be prepared.” You gazed at Leon intently, trying to read from his expression how bad the situation was.
There was a slight shift in movement of his lips, but other than that, nothing. Damn that man and his poker face.
“Okay, I’ll teach you what I can.” He took your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. This time, you didn’t pull away. “Just stop me at any point.”
He spent a substantial period enlightening you about The Traditions, the laws of the Camarilla — the sect you now belonged to, unfortunately not by choice. The first law and most crucial of them all, was to uphold the Masquerade and prevent anyone from knowing about the existence of your kind. As of now, Leon, being your creator, or sire, was responsible for your actions until you progressed on from being a fledgling to a neonate. Basically, a point in time where you wouldn’t be treated as a baby anymore.
You began to understand that this was the same crappy autocratic system you had despised as a human, rife with contradictions. Especially when Leon proceeded to tell you about what he jokingly coined ‘Tradition 0’.
“The thing is, I can go on about all these rules, but whatever you do, don’t get caught.” He adjusted himself uneasily on his high stool, supposedly half-regretting what he had just informed you. You had a rebellious streak, he always knew that, and perhaps even liked it; living vicariously through your actions. But he was putting you in a dangerous spot by encouraging it.
“You’re telling me this?” you coughed out a laugh.
“Don’t make me regret it,” he cautioned right after, but you rolled your eyes at his remark. Typical.
“I’m just saying some rules are bullshit—”
“Glad we can agree on something,” you taunted.
“Right, well,” he sighed, the dull pounding at the temples of his head starting to grow more persistent. “Be smart about it.”
With that, he presented a burner phone and pager, nearly identical to the ones he owned. You grimaced at the old-fashioned, brick devices in front of you. One of the things Leon had iterated was the Camarilla’s blanket tech ban. He said it was a safety precaution against the Second Inquisition, or ‘SI’ for short, who’d managed to infiltrate hordes of Kindred through their carelessness. Personally, he shared his doubts about that, surmising it was more about the older generation’s fear of technology, and using the ban as yet another form of control.
“Technically speaking, you’re not even allowed to have one of these.” A slight smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he jiggled the phone, hoping you’d appreciate his word play. You didn’t, providing him with nothing more than a scowl.
Tough crowd, he shrugged before setting it down on the counter. “Anyway, I’m guessing your colleague’s gonna start worrying about your radio silence very soon.”
Fuck, Patrick. In the whirlwind of events, you’d forgotten about your instructions to him the other night.
“Pager’s usually for any comms from the Prince, among other more, uh, unconventional methods.” He recalled one of Hunnigan’s rats tailing him along the street with a spellbound look in its eyes, the dead drops, and the codes in graffiti at specific locations around the city, mimicking secret messages on ancient Venetian walls.
First things first though, you needed to allay any worries that resulted from your absence. You grabbed the phone, flipping it open. What was once a novel experience with Leon at the cafe now felt like a chore. You were unused to the stiff buttons, tiny screen and pixelated graphics as you punched in the numbers.
Pressing the age-old phone to your ear, the ringtone eventually came to halt, and you heard someone fumble on the other end of the line, along with a muffled shout over a wall of background noise, “Yeah, just a minute!”
“Patrick?” you addressed purposefully.
“Jesus! Where’ve you been? I tried calling you a million times; went straight to voicemail. Everyone’s been asking around for you! Did that guy—”
“I’m fine,” you cut in, stopping his rambling in its tracks. “Sorry I didn’t call earlier, I, um—” you glanced over at Leon as he eyed you inquisitively, wondering how you’d talk your way out of this one.
“Lost my phone; think I dropped it somewhere,” was the classic excuse you settled with.
Leon nodded approvingly.
“Explains the unknown number,” Patrick inferred. “Anyway, you coming in?”
You sucked in a sharp breath. “Uh, actually, I’m not feeling so hot.” That was at least a partial truth. “Gonna take this shift off too. Tell the rest I’m sorry.”
There was a low, static chuckle. “Must’ve been a wild night, huh?”
“Come on, seriously?” you guffawed, cursing workplace gossip with a passion. “It wasn’t—”
“Later, boss,” he drawled. “You deserve it.” He hung up before you had a chance to argue any further.
“Yeah, fuck you too, Patrick,” you grumbled, slamming the phone’s cover back onto itself as Leon failed to stifle a snicker.
He’d eavesdropped on the entire conversation. You flipped him off in response, which earned you an even louder chortle.
Both of you were interrupted by a series of beeps coming from Leon’s pager. He swiped it up in his right hand, taking a peek. His jaw tightened visibly, setting into a hard line as he regarded you with a rigid expression.
“The Prince beckons.”
━━━━━━━━━━━
Huddling under the parasol that Leon held out to shield you from the pouring rain, you walked briskly beside him. Your heeled boots clacked along the city pavement, as you headed towards what appeared to be an inconspicuous underground shelter. Drawing closer, you saw the distinct mark of the Umbrella Corporation logo at its entrance.
Security cameras lined the walls and an access control pad lit up by the side. Scanning his magnetic token against the reader, he keyed in a numeric code which caused a set of doors to open, allowing you to enter an elevator shaft.
“Umbrella’s involved?” you gasped in incredulity. It never occurred to you that the multinational conglomerate would be so intrinsically tied to the underworld.
Leon shot you a dour look, his brows puckered as a clear sign of his discomfort. “Yeah, the Prince is its biggest investor.”
You clucked your tongue. No wonder they’d always seemed shady. “So, this Prince… has he got a name?”
“Mm hm, Wesker.”
Given the way he had spat it out, you didn’t have to be a genius to guess that Leon wasn’t very fond of the man in any respect. It wasn’t a surprise, since to you, all corporate overlords were the same — evil, money-grabbing assholes.
“You would do well to follow my lead when we meet him,” he counseled gravely, as you reached the bottom level of the place, and stepped out onto the platform that serviced one of Umbrella’s many private subways across the city.
You were the only ones in the empty station. It was eerily silent until you boarded the automated train, whereupon a robotic voice announced, “This train is bound for NEST. Do not exit until the final destination.”
Leon’s mood seemed to grow increasingly morose the further you journeyed towards Elysium, where the Prince had his quarters open as a neutral ground for the Camarilla vampires to be entertained, relax and attend to important discussions. It just so happened that Wesker considered himself to be the greatest scientist ever known to mankind and fancied his Elysium to be instated within Umbrella’s laboratory complex. Apparently, the location had been considered unorthodox, but no one dared to challenge the Prince, instead resorting to petty complaints behind his back.
As he gave you a brief rundown of the place, who you should avoid and how you should behave, the train braked, stopping at the facility’s station. Leon’s final words of warning echoed in your ears, “Remember, you answer to me, and only me. Not to my sire, not to anyone else. Got that?”
Under normal circumstances, you would have made some flippant remark and opposed his sudden display of authority over you, but you’d never seen him this unnerved before. He steeled himself, his countenance turning stoic and impenetrable; the only remnant of who he was shone through his sapphire eyes. It was as if he had changed into a completely different person and you weren’t sure what to make of it. Instead, you chose to hold your tongue and observe the situation. Nodding quickly, you stuck close to him as he requested while entering the sterile, clinical setting of Wesker’s inner sanctum.
As you walked across an extended bridge towards the East Area, you noticed cliques of what you assumed were other vampires hanging around the pathways and the circular main shaft. Sipping on scarlet liquid in wine glasses, they whispered to each other, sneering as they gave you the side-eye.
Your ears pricked up as you tried to zero in on their hushed conversations. All at once, you heard a cacophony of voices surrounding you.
“She won’t last a week.”
“I’ll give her three days at most.”
“I heard she tasted delicious.”
“No wonder Leon couldn’t restrain himself.”
The voices were overwhelming, coming from all directions, and at times sounding right up close to your ear. You felt woozy and nearly stumbled, if not for Leon wrapping his arm around to catch you. He threw you a look of concern, but said nothing as he led you away from the crowd.
“Easy there, wouldn’t want to accidentally fall off the ledge now, would we?”
You ignored the feminine voice, allowing her silvery laughter to wash over you as you resolved to focus on the task ahead. Harden yourself, you breathed, imagining a void abyss into which your emotions could be emptied. Leon had mentioned they would try to faze you, and you knew now, more than ever, that in order to make it out of here in one piece, you’d need to place your trust in the man who had upended your very life.
From one door to the next, the way this complex was built seemed to mimic that of a spacecraft. The final set of doors swooshed open as its panels glided along the tracks. You set foot into a neatly manicured greenhouse, its lower temperature and misty atmosphere contributing to the lushness of the plants it housed.
There was a tall, athletically built man in a full black formal ensemble, topped with a smart, matching coat, standing with his back to you on an elevated section of the room that served as a podium. His sandy, almost platinum blonde hair was gelled back neatly, and his hands, donned with fitted black leather gloves, were interlocked behind him in a military stance. He appeared to be fixated on something through a glass window below him.
At his side stood a svelte lady with a tousled, brunette bob, dressed mostly in camouflage garb except for a striking cobalt blue tank top. She wielded a broad, heavy-duty steel machete, its surface catching the light and casting a menacing glint. A Doberman Pinscher sat obediently by her side, vigilantly surveying its surroundings.
It was only when you passed through the pathway connecting the entrance to the podium that you realized others were lurking around the shrubbery. Their eyes gleamed in a variety of otherworldly colors as they looked on with aroused interest at the spectacle before them. The vibe was tense, but you couldn't quite place your finger on the exact cause.
As Leon reached the edge of the stairs leading up to where Wesker was standing, he placed his hand diagonally across his chest, bowing in reverence. “My Prince,” he greeted, casting a stern glance at you to indicate that you should follow.
You dipped your head in an awkward semi-bow, feeling completely out of place amid the formality of such a situation. He wrinkled his nose at your halfhearted attempt but left it at that, deciding it would work more in your favor not to make an obvious fuss over it. It was only then that the formidable man turned around to acknowledge the pair of you. His height, accentuated by the elevated platform, made him appear even more imposing as he towered over you. Although he sported a pair of pitch black sunglasses, you could still see the red glow of his eyes like burning embers behind them.
“Leon Kennedy and his newly Embraced childe.” He grinned wolfishly, though you didn’t understand what was so funny. “I realize your initiation to unlife was under… rather dire circumstances. My sincerest apologies.”
The tone of his voice seemed to suggest that he was mocking you, rather than being genuinely sympathetic to your plight. Your temper was beginning to flare up again, but when you peered over at Leon, you saw the strained look in his eyes and the tautness of his neck, almost as if he was pleading for Wesker to show some form of mercy. His vulnerability struck at your core, and you felt a sense of pity for him to be reduced to such a docile position. Biting your tongue, you quelled the simmering anger that was threatening to boil over.
“Such fire in her eyes,” Wesker tutted, smirking at Leon knowingly, though your sire remained expressionless. Holding out his arms, he welcomed you with them, “Let me have a closer look at you.”
For the first time you had entered Elysium, a bone chilling fear ran through your entire body, though it was soon replaced by the warmth and weight of Leon’s hand on your back, gently coaxing and ushering you towards Wesker with a reassuring gaze. You knew he was supporting you through this, despite harboring the same trepidation and dread within himself.
Once you were inches away from Wesker, he reached out, tucking his fingers under your chin to tilt your face from side to side under the harsh beams of light hanging overhead from the ceiling. “Hmm, not bad.” He licked his lips suggestively. “Tell me, Leon, did she taste as good as Sherry?”
Sherry? Who was—
“I am certain that Sherry is more suited to your palette, Prince.” His evasiveness carried a wisp of sadness.
A respectable Prince never needed to rely on any of his Disciplines to incite fear and control over others in Court. Wesker, as a Ventrue, was more than skilled at Dominate, and could have chosen to use it indiscriminately. But what good is a Prince who relies on the powers of the blood to achieve his desires? A weak pushover. An idiot who should’ve been overthrown yesterday.
Leon knew that Wesker reveled in prodding at his vulnerable spots with an invisible stick just to put him in his place. In turn, he was expected to perform this little monkey dance each time around the Prince for his acceptance. He just prayed that you would continue to be sensible; you were trying your best so far to temper your emotions and he was proud of you.
“Very well.” Wesker released your face, before signaling to someone at the back of the room. “Bring the rat in,” he summoned.
A scrawny man clad in a torn and bloodied hoodie was dragged by his chains towards the center of the room. His face had been mutilated and bizarre, occult symbols were burnt into his skin. Kicked to the ground, he sniveled woefully, scrambling to clasp his hands together as he begged, “P-please, I-I don’t know anything else, I swear!”
“Silence!” his captor roared.
Turning back to you, Wesker gestured towards the prisoner. “This abomination was part of the group that attacked your kind. They conducted what we call a Mass Embrace,” he lectured.
“If your sire taught you well, you would know which of the Traditions were broken?” The lilt at the end of his sentence informed you that this was a test, as he peered at you expectantly.
You caught a glimpse of recognition in Leon’s eyes, as he offered a subtle smile in encouragement.
“Two of them,” you answered, crossing your fingers that you had memorized the text correctly. “Breaching the Masquerade and unsanctioned siring of another Kindred.”
A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the room. “Indeed,” Wesker commended.
For some reason, he then decided to recite the Third Tradition in its entirety, as if hinting at something to you. “Thou shalt sire another only with permission of thine Elder. If thou createst another without thine Elder's leave, both thou and thy progeny shalt be slain.”
Before you could respond, the woman with the machete stepped forward. “I am ready to fulfill my duty, Prince.”
“Oh, Jill.” He gave her a fond side smile. “So eager for blood.”
There was a slight pause before he nodded. “Final Death. See to it then, my trusted Sheriff.”
In an instant, she leapt across the wide distance separating the Prince from the captive, and hacked off the screaming man’s head with one clean sweep. You flinched, shielding your eyes from the gruesome display as the other vampires murmured to each other animatedly.
This was meant as a lesson. Wherever you went, you would be observed and judged, and if necessary, put down like a dog just as that vampire had been.
As the corpse was carried away, the rest of the audience took their cue to leave the vicinity, boredom setting onto their faces once again as they sauntered out. You were about to head down the stairs, when Wesker grabbed your wrist, motioning for Leon to join him as well. “Wait a moment, little one,” he cooed.
When the room had emptied out save for the three of you and Jill in the background, Wesker spoke up, directing his question to your sire, “Since you were at the scene, any guesses as to who might be responsible?”
“Well, based on the particulars of the Embrace, and their love for creating shovelheads, the obvious choice would be the Sabbat. The clues seem to point there at least,” Leon deduced logically. “The Anarchs would be fools to pull off something so bold… and stupid.”
“The Sabbat, those insolent rats,” Wesker hissed. A hint of rage tainted his voice, as he balled his gloved hand into a tight fist, causing the leather to pile and squeak. “Do you know how much trouble this incident has caused me?”
“The Raccoon City newspapers and broadcasting network have been going off their rockers about this,” Jill piped up, making her way over with her Doberman in tow. “The fire covered up any real evidence, but the Raccoon Police Department suspects foul play. They’re calling for witnesses.”
“Leon, I have come to value your experience, especially with such delicate matters,” Wesker remarked. “I want you to investigate this for me. We can’t have any more of these imbeciles popping up where they shouldn’t be. Next thing you know, the SI comes knocking at our door.”
He glanced over at you again as a calculating smile spread across his face. “Take the fledgling with you. Let this be a way to prove herself as an asset to our domain.”
“As you wish, my Prince,” Leon obliged, though you could tell that he was dismayed by the outcome.
“Jill will brief you about the case after you’ve had your refreshments,” he continued. “Otherwise, our meeting here is concluded.”
At this, he released his grip on your wrist, the imprint of his hand still visible around it. Leon took the opportunity to loop his arm protectively around your waist, pulling you snugly against him as he escorted you toward the exit. You hated to admit it, but after the overwhelming events of today, you were thankful for the comfort he provided you.
However, after settling into a private booth in the lounge on the lower level of the East Area, Wesker’s words came back to haunt you. “Thou shalt sire another only with permission of thine Elder.”
The tenet ran through your mind over and over again, until it finally dawned on you that your Embrace was by no accident. Leon had planned to turn you all along. You would have been beheaded by Jill if he hadn’t acquired Wesker’s permission in advance.
Your lips quivered as you stopped drinking the ruddy fluid from the glass that had been offered to you on the way in. It clinked as you placed it down on the crystal countertop before facing the man in question.
“You’re a goddamn liar, you know that?” you reproached, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.
With just one look at you, he knew that you had discovered his dirty little secret. “It wasn’t meant to happen like this. I was going to give you the choice,” he asserted, shuffling closer in desperation as he reached out to cup your cheek in his hand.
“Like hell you were!” you jeered, pushing him back by the shoulders.
“I’m telling you the truth!” he exclaimed, unwilling to let you go as his eyes darted in panic, and his expression crumpled into despair. “Please, you have to believe me.”
Suddenly, the curtains drew open as a sultry, contralto voice rang out, “There you are!”
You jolted towards the source, finding yourself face-to-face with a glamorous lady in a rouge thigh-high slit dress. Her raven black hair was styled into a sleek, angular bob cut which was tucked behind her ears. A foxy smirk played across her bold red lips.
“Oh, Leon, why haven’t you introduced us? I’ve heard so much about you.”
#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#porcelainscribbles
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Into the Ether (3)
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, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.
Authors' Note: Suggestive themes, violence and mild gore ahead.
Taglist: @admirxation @xoxostarlet @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️🔥
AO3 Link
Chapter 3: Fires of Rebellion
“So, talk,” you demanded, crossing your arms as you kept yourself at a suitable distance from Leon.
Both of you were currently walking up north along Good Street towards the City College. The plan had been to take a left at some point and head over to the park by Warren Street, where hopefully there would be some benches for you to relax on. It was still early enough in the night for your surroundings to be relatively bustling with people, so you weren’t too worried that the man beside you would try anything risky or stupid. In any case, you knew where you kept your pepper spray at hand if things went south.
“You’d already sensed it from the beginning,” he stated, swallowing thickly. How was it this hard to tell you who he really was? If he could sweat blood, he’d fill a whole bucket’s worth. Pig’s blood. A cop in pig’s blood. He knew plenty of people who’d pay to see him drenched in the vermillion fluid. “That I’m not exactly normal.” That was what he settled with.
“What, you mean like a serial killer or something?” you scoffed, shaking your head in mild vexation.
“No.” His voice was solemn but firm as he glanced at you briefly, making eye contact. “I didn’t… assault you, not in the way you think.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “I just— I do things… that aren’t exactly normal.”
Great, Leon. You just made yourself sound like a fucking magician. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and paused his footsteps. “This is going well.”
You almost felt sorry for the guy. He seemed to be having such a difficult time articulating what he wanted to say. Was it some sort of kink he was talking about? The logical part of your mind berated you, insisting that this could go down far worse than you imagined, but you pushed it aside.
“Like what?” you asked, your morbid curiosity getting the better of you.
His jaw tightened as he shifted his weight uncomfortably from side to side.
Before he could respond, you took the initiative, positioning yourself in front of him as a form of challenge. “Show me,” you requested.
His head darted in every direction, scanning the area with an animalistic instinctiveness and you thought you saw his eyes illuminate in a different color. However, when you blinked a second later, it had returned to its original pale shade of blue. “Too many people,” he muttered. “I’ll do as you ask, but we need to head somewhere quieter.”
You should’ve ran off after he said that, but your legs stayed rooted to the ground. Your lack of self-preservation was alarming. “The park, then?” you suggested.
He nodded in compromise. “I could work with that.”
The rest of the walk there took place in awkward silence, as you dwelled on what he would do and whether you were walking into one big, fat trap. Well, at least Patrick had his business card. And PIs, they had a registered license, didn’t they? It was too late to back out now, you’d gone this far and you wanted to see it through.
When you had found a secluded bench at one of the shaded corners of the park, he spoke up again. “Do you remember the first night we met? When—”
“You offered me cigarettes in exchange for coffee,” you finished the sentence for him.
“Yes,” he said with a wistful smile, as if reminiscing about a day he’d cherished but had long since passed. “You felt it, didn’t you? Compelled to stay, but with no reason why.”
Despite your reluctance, you had to agree with him. That moment between standing by his table and sitting with him to share in a smoke had been like entering the twilight zone. You were you, but yet, at the same time, weren’t.
“I can do it again here, if you want,” he murmured, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to bore right into you.
It wasn’t the first time you had leaped before looking. You’d always been known to be a little more reckless than your peers, but it seemed like you never really learnt your lesson well. “Be my guest,” you gestured melodramatically, as your hand swept across in one grand motion.
“Now, you’re just mocking me,” he chided, though a ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips.
This time, there was a tingling sensation in your body, like an invisible warm light gradually enveloping you, except it seemed to exude from him. You were entranced by his stature, the minute details of his face, everything about what he was, to the point where you couldn’t tear yourself away from his gaze.
“Sit,” he directed gently, placing his hand along the back of the wooden bench.
You felt nothing but desire. Desire to do anything he wanted you to. Without a word, you sank onto the bench like a doll, still giving him that doe-eyed expression one would normally reserve for a celebrity they were starstruck by.
Taking his seat beside you, he urged, “Come closer.”
Obediently, you shuffled up along the bench towards him, except it wasn’t out of fear of punishment, but a strange, radiant love that emanated from within you. When you were just inches away from his face, he slowly revealed the tips of his canine teeth, which were pointier than usual, and seemed to grow with each passing minute. As his features eased up, you could feel the uncanny warmth dissipate from your core, and though you were still captivated by him, his face seemed to lack the same lustrous sheen it held moments ago. Like a wandering spirit, you had arrived back into your own body. You were you again.
His eyes latched onto you, waiting, watching, biding his time, to see what you would do. Though he remained poised and composed, the unsteadiness of his breathing and the flicker of trepidation across his irises gave him away. He was afraid that you would leave him, for good. And after what he had given to have the right to Embrace you, he wouldn’t know how he would live with himself if he were rejected.
It felt like hours had gone by until one of you spoke up. “Do you hate what you see?”
“No,” you answered, almost too quickly, cupping his cold cheek in the palm of your hand. He closed his eyes and sighed blissfully into it, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It felt moist and heated against your skin.
You surprised yourself with how well you were taking all of this in. This shouldn’t have been possible and nothing about what he had shown you made sense. You blamed your tolerance on the late, sleepless nights and hanging around with the offbeat characters who frequented your cafe.
What if monsters did exist? you humored. Maybe not in the literal sense of vampires, but someone who relished the flavor of blood, and who’d learnt a few tricks of hypnotism. You tried to rationalize it as much as you could, but there were still so many missing pieces you did not fully understand.
“How many times?” you asked. “Did you force me… each night?”
He lowered his gaze, marred by shame, while looking to his hands nestled in his lap. “It was just that once,” he whispered. “I wanted you to stay with me.”
He pursed his lips. “The rest, later on… was you.”
“Did you—”
“Yes.”
You didn’t even need to continue your sentence for him to know what you meant. Yes, he tasted your blood. Yes, he enjoyed it. Yes, he came back for more. And more.
“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked.
You didn’t acknowledge his apology, allowing even more time to slip through your fingers. A while later, you ran them along his cheek towards his lips, where his teeth which now looked more like fangs lurked. Right, how would you explain that away?
He didn’t stop you when you traced one of their edges, as if trying to figure out if they were real. He let you press the tip of your finger against its peak, purposely pricking yourself in some kind of deluded masochistic fantasy. The rush you felt from it was indescribable, like a spike of venom flowing into your veins, though it wasn’t as intense as the previous times to truly immobilize you. Grasping onto the back of the bench, you steadied yourself from the dizzying sensation.
A dark, ruby bead blossomed at the site of the puncture. His mouth lay open as he inhaled sharply, gripping the trousers on his thighs, and there was a wild look in his bloodshot eyes. However, he remained motionless, restraining himself somehow, as if awaiting your instruction.
“You like this?” A mixture of bewilderment and arousal seeped into your tone, as you brought your bleeding finger to rest just at the entrance of his mouth.
All at once, his veneer of calmness shattered. He swirled his tongue against your fingertip, causing you to gasp as it made hot laps around the miniscule droplet of blood you had to offer him. Dipping his head, he took the rest of your digit into his mouth, eventually sucking on it whole as he emitted a low groan in pleasure. When he finally let it go, a slick string of saliva connected to it from his lips, wet and hungry with need.
“I, um—” you shuddered, at a loss for words, as you retracted your finger, folding it into your hand.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he straightened up in his seat, adjusting his attire and hair, as if he had come back to his senses once again. “You don’t have to decide on this right now,” he assured you.
“Okay.” You nodded shakily, your mind spinning from all the events that had just transpired. “Could we take another short walk before I head home?”
It would probably help to cool off a little, you thought.
“Anything you need,” he asserted, getting up as he took another glance around the park, before extending his hand to you.
You stared at it, contemplating further. “Just don’t—” you hesitated, pausing to rephrase your words. “I want to trust you, Leon.”
“I’ll earn it back,” he promised. “However long it takes.”
That was all you needed to hear from him. Perhaps you were naive to a fault, but you took his hand anyway, allowing him to lead you out of the park, and to whatever else fate had in store for you that night.
━━━━━━━━━━━
Over the course of the evening, a thin fog had developed, shrouding the sky and enveloping the moon and stars in a blurry veil, casting a muted light over the city. You and Leon had taken a short detour towards the more touristy part of town, where the landmark Saint Michael Clock Tower overlooked the grand waterway.
The ornate, Gothic structure loomed intimidatingly ahead, its roof cloaked in a wispy gray mist, though you could still make out the time on its huge clock face. Ten minutes past midnight. It was getting late, and although you were accustomed to working until the wee hours of the morning, you preferred to get some sleep on your nights off when possible. However, right now, a part of you wished that the night would last longer.
There wasn’t such a wide distance between you and Leon as before. In fact, your fingers were nearly touching, but neither of you had taken it further to close the final gap. Even in complete silence, punctuated only by the sounds of the city’s buzzing nightlife, both of you had somehow agreed on which pathways to take, falling in sync with each other’s footsteps, pauses and turns, like an unspoken dance. It was nice like this, having no expectations of the other person, just walking and feeling the thread of connection that bound the two of you.
Every now and then, he peered at you inquisitively, and you wondered if he had something to say, but when you looked his way, he turned his gaze back to the street in front of him. Coming to the entrance of a tunnel arbor near the clocktower, you paused to admire the sight of the vines and flowers that were wound around the metallic arches, interspersed with marigold fairy lights. There were still a decent number of stragglers in the vicinity. Probably the remaining tourists for the day who didn’t quite want to wrap up yet, some of whom were posing for pictures near the picaresque arbors.
“Cat caught your tongue?” Always the instigator and taking the confrontational approach. That was what you were known for.
“Hm?” he deflected, yet smiled at you knowingly.
“Just looked like you had something to say.” You shrugged, placing your hands on your hips.
“Nothing escapes you, huh?”
He was teasing you again; you were certain of it. Though this appeared to be twofold, where the second part was meant as a misdirection to hide a secret from you.
“It should be obvious that I like you,” he stated plainly.
Obvious to the point where he couldn’t afford to have one of those obnoxious Anarchs stake their claim over you, just for a bit of territory. You were worth so much more to him than that. Surely, it would be the lesser of two evils for him to be the one to Embrace you? It was all he could think about when he made that deal with Ada. Always justifying and compromising. That was what he was known for.
You couldn't fathom the sheer astonishment and joy that overcame him when Ada returned with the news a few weeks later:
“The Prince granted your wish,” she mentioned with an indifferent wave of her hand.
“How?” he choked in disbelief. “It usually takes years!”
“You underestimate me,” she scoffed. “Have you forgotten that I’m the voice of society?”
“No, of course not.” He hung his head in disgrace, as if he had just been told off by a parent.
“Anyway, I don’t have to tell you twice that you should thank him in person.”
Lifting a bejeweled chalice to her lips, she tasted its contents, allowing it to linger on the palate before letting it wash down her throat. “And by ‘thank’, I mean ‘grovel’.”
“Yes, sire.” He bent down on his knee and kissed the back of her hand in respect.
A shadow of annoyance flickered across her face, morphing into a frown. “You do know this makes you look weak?” she questioned rhetorically. “Being unable to convince the Prince yourself?”
He knew better than to respond when Ada was in such a mood.
“Don’t embarrass me.”
Her warning rang loud and clear in his ears.
“Who is it obvious to?” you challenged, pulling him out of his reverie. Maybe you had an undeniable urge to see him lose control over you again.
At this, he drew closer towards you, his eyes ablaze like a blue flame, as he snaked his arms around your waist. That was it — the thrill, the feeling you missed. It rippled through your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. But before he could go any further, a sudden force tore him from his hold on you, hauling him violently backwards. He was flung in the air across a couple of yards, landing against the wall of a building with a sickening crack.
In the background, you heard screams coming from all directions, alongside whooshing sounds, followed by loud thuds. One soon popped up behind you and in an instant you found yourself smacked to the ground. There was a shrill ringing in your ears, your eyes watered, and your vision blurred as you started seeing double in front of you. You felt the back of your head. Wet. Sticky. Flowing. Your fingers were red and the concussion you suffered induced a dizzying spell.
A grizzly face appeared before you, but you couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features, except for the familiar shape of long fangs that glistened under the arbor lights. There was no time to put up a fight or even cry out for help, as you began to sink deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.
Leon had watched the entire scene unfurl before him like a twisted snuff film coming to life. The attack had taken him by surprise, but he quickly got up from his fall, resetting his bones and shaking it off like nothing had happened. The whole place was awash in scarlet. Blood streaked the city streets, trickling into every gap and crack, as the victims were messily drained of their lifesource. Whoever was behind this wanted the world to know. And that was when he witnessed the first of them turn.
A Mass Embrace? These Kindred definitely reeked of the Sabbat, and if not, they weren’t anyone who had been presented before the Prince; he would know. There wasn’t a second left to spare — he had to find you immediately. In his line of sight, he saw one of the culprits feeding on you greedily, and the primal rage he felt within him almost caused his Beast to take over. He hunched over and growled ferociously. His features transformed into something monstrous and his eyes were crazed as globs of saliva dribbled down his mouth.
It was fanning the flames of a Frenzy, one where he would slaughter every being in his path regardless of who they were, tearing them from limb to limb, and eviscerating their carcasses for what they had done to you. But his concern for your well-being won him over. Mustering up his willpower, he resisted the Beast as much as he could, and though he was still enraged, he needed to think straight and prioritize getting you to safety. That was all that mattered.
In the bat of an eye, he zipped across, yanking the other vampire away from your limp body, as they traded rapid blows. Another aggressor joined in the fight, as Leon dodged their swift counterattacks with deceptive ease, before connecting his right fist to one of their jaws and dealing a precise uppercut with his left to the other’s ribs, catching both of them off-guard.
Everything seemed to pass by in quicktime as he moved with an unnatural grace, spinning mid-air over one of their backs, only to grab the other from behind and slam him to the ground savagely. Gathering the rest of his strength, he took advantage of the momentum to stomp on the vampire’s head with the heel of his shoe. There was a nauseating crunch as his skull caved in from the blunt force trauma, splintering and sending blood splashing across the pavement, driving him straight into torpor. One down, one more to go.
The brutality of the violence he had displayed unnerved him, yet fuelled his excitement as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He attributed it to being partially influenced by the Beast the moment those bastards had put your life in danger. At least he had not fully succumbed to it. That was what he tried to tell himself while putting a lid on his unquenchable thirst for more. More violence. More bloodshed. They deserve it…
A cacophony of ghastly howls erupted from a distance, bringing him back to reality. Jill, it had to be, Leon realized. The Sheriff was coming to subdue this severe breach of the Masquerade. As the other vampire lunged at him, Leon’s reflexes took over, timing it such that he skirted the edge of the assault unscathed. Instead, he circled around, placing the attacker in an unyielding headlock. The vampire struggled vigorously, attempting to kick and claw his way out of Leon’s grip.
It was then that he heard Jill’s gruff yells in the vicinity, as the pack of dogs under her control barked and gnashed their teeth viciously at the remaining offenders, clamping down on their legs to prevent them from escaping. The Hound, a group of Kindred who reported to her, had arrived in tow, twirling wooden shafts in their hands, each sharpened at one end. Grinning menacingly, they struck at the assailants, staking them immobile before dragging them away.
“You need this one?” Leon called out. He might as well play by their rules where he got the chance, even if the Prince himself had decreed a perpetual Blood Hunt on the Sabbat. Anything to be in the former’s good graces. It was all for show, anyway.
Jill turned sharply, her mouth contorting into a wicked smirk, as she stalked towards him. “Leon… always at the right place, right time, huh?” Her voice was more akin to brutish snarl, but he knew when she meant her threats and when she didn’t. At this point, she was on his side.
“We have our hands full of the rebellious trash.” She jerked her thumb back to her crew, who were skulking around in the dark with their catch. “Kill this motherfucker.”
Without hesitation, Leon snapped the vampire’s neck clean, ripping his head off in the process as his lifeless body fell to the ground in a heap. Letting out a huff from the effort, he tossed the head aside, feeling nothing for the wretched being that lay at his feet. Or did he? He chose not to dwell on it any further, finding something else to distract himself with as he glanced down at his clothes, frowning when he noticed they were smeared with all sorts of fluids and innards. Dry cleaning was gonna be a bitch.
Jill signaled towards your body with her chin. “This one’s barely alive.”
“She’s mine.” A deep-seated possessiveness surged through him as he stepped between you and Jill, unwilling to let you be snatched away from his grasp again. Swooping down, he lifted you into his arms, ready to cart you off from this gruesome site. “Please, I don’t have much time.”
Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head and a low rumble reverberated from her chest. “Alright, pretty boy. You’re answerable to the Prince though,” she warned.
“Understood,” he replied snippily, cringing at the nickname she often used to wind him up.
Directing her attention once again to her Hound, she commanded, “Torch the rest!”
The poor, newly created vampires never stood a chance, dealing with both the life-changing alterations to their bodies and the molotov cocktails now lobbed at them. They had no idea what was happening as they were set aflame in the towering bonfire, screeching and wailing until they were reduced to nothing but ashes. The smell of singed skin and flesh hung in the air.
Tightening his grip on you, Leon recoiled involuntarily in fear as he fled from the raging inferno. “Hang in there for me,” he whispered, praying to a long-forgotten god that he wouldn’t be too late this time.
Racing like his life depended on it, he kept to the shadows, using the cover of darkness to navigate through the maze of Raccoon City towards his haven.
#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#porcelainscribbles
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Into the Ether (2)
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, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.
Taglist: @admirxation @xoxostarlet ❤️🔥
AO3 Link
Chapter 2: Dead City Blues
8 years ago…
Claire rapped loudly on an inconspicuous black steel door, one among many within a dreary, gray slab building. The sound echoed off the concrete walls, but there was no answer.
“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, checking the address written down in marker on the palm of her hand again. Yeah, this was the place, alright.
Banging on the door a second time for good measure, she whipped her head from side to side, skittishly surveying her surroundings while she tapped her foot on the ground impatiently. After what had recently happened, she was on edge, wanting to make sure she hadn’t been followed. Unfortunately, she was met with nothing but silence.
Where the hell was this guy? Trying the door handle, she rattled it and it clicked open, unlocked. Gingerly, she took a step inside, closing the door behind her. Well, she didn’t come all the way here for nothing. Might as well snoop around and see what she could find.
On the other end of the room stood a work desk overflowing with papers, some neatly stacked in piles, others scattered across its surface which was haphazardly littered with sticky notes. The desk lamp shone brightly, illuminating the dust motes circling lazily in the air, and a laptop lay open beneath it, the text cursor blinking on a blank document, seemingly mocking her. Next to the desk were a bunch of filing cabinets with some of its drawers open, as if someone had been rummaging through them but had left in a hurry. There was a worn leather couch to the side, along with a large potted plant and a couple of cushioned chairs. For clients, she presumed.
The laminated wooden floors creaked underfoot as she moved forwards cautiously. She sensed that she wasn’t alone, but wherever she looked, there was not a single soul in sight. Everything was completely still. Too still, she thought, playing with the rings on her fingers nervously. This wasn’t her territory. She was risking her undead skin, but there was no other choice.
“You have some balls, showing your face here,” a voice from the shadows taunted.
With a jerk, Claire pivoted sharply to confront the source of the disturbance, leaping backwards as she bared her fangs and hissed aggressively.
The voice tutted, “Defiant brat.” A man with dirty blonde hair and icy blue eyes appeared from the corner of the room. “You Anarchs really live up to your name.”
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Leon Kennedy?” she questioned, the name spilling out from her mouth like a foreign object. However, she regained her composure, relaxing her stance as she smirked, unable to resist another one of her sassy comebacks that often got her into trouble. “Tell me, Camarilla pretty boy, how’s it like being the Prince’s lapdog?”
With blinding speed, Leon raced in front of her, holding her neck in a vice-like grip as her feet lifted off the ground. “You have ten seconds to explain before I rip your fucking throat out!” he snarled, while she choked and sputtered, struggling to break free from his grasp.
Summoning her strength, she tucked her chin, raising her arms up before using the momentum to swing her hips to one side, while simultaneously slamming her elbows into his forearm. A deep growl escaped his lips as he let her drop to the ground. “I need… your help,” she coughed violently. “My brother…”
He squatted down beside her, eyeing her with barely masked contempt. “And why should I help a filthy lick like you?”
“Please,” she begged, even though groveling in this manner made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “They said you were one of the best. That you’d know how to find even those who don’t want to be found.” Tears lined her lashes as she looked away in humiliation, willing them not to fall.
His features softened in reflex action, as he saw brief vignettes of the past flash before his eyes of people coming to him for help, and the despair seeping through their pores. Their silhouettes morphed with Claire’s, blurring reality with fiction. It was inherent in him to help others. He hadn’t forgotten it, even though he was no longer human.
“Fine,” he managed to make out through gritted teeth. “I only take payment upfront though.” Reaching his hand out towards her, he helped her to her feet, as she dusted off her red leather jacket.
“Yeah, about that…” she scratched the back of her head sheepishly.
“Let me guess, you’re not exactly rolling in riches, are you?” he sighed, his expression drooping suddenly in weariness.
Claire bit her tongue, trying to hold back on making another snarky remark about the elitist Camarilla sect and its bullshit Ivory Tower. Leon cocked his head, staring at her curiously, unveiling his fangs deliberately like a shark. Shit, maybe he was one of those Kindred who could read minds.
“Look, wait—” she raised her hands in front of him as though placating a raging bull. “If you find him, Chris…” There was a long, pregnant pause, as she shuffled her feet anxiously. “I’ll owe you a life boon,” she breathed, sealing her fate.
A life boon. She must be completely desperate, he thought. He’d never been owed one before, seeing as how he was just another mundane neonate in the underworld of upper class Kindred, which meant that he’d graduated from being a fledgling under the wing of his sire without fucking up. He was good enough to be considered a cog in the machine for his elders to use like a pawn in their silly games. But for the past 15 years, give and take, of his unlife, he always played by the rules, or around them, never going beyond the point of no return.
Life boons were rare in these nights and he wasn’t about to say no, but at the same time there was that nagging conscience within him that wondered if he was taking advantage of her. No, the Kindred world worked differently from the Kine’s… well, actually they were pretty similar, but— he shook his head to snap out of it before he could sink deeper into the rabbit hole.
Clearing his throat, he extended his hand again, offering it to her. “You got yourself a deal then, uh, miss…?”
“Claire.” She grabbed his hand and shook it firmly, nodding tersely at him. “Claire Redfield.”
“Right, Claire, tell me everything you know so far.” He gestured towards a pair of seats near his desk.
After he had gathered all the information he needed, he sent her off to the door like the gentleman he had been raised to be. Before heading out, she turned around, unclasping the silvery chain that hung around her neck. Attached to it was a matching pewter feather and a robin’s egg blue gemstone set within it.
“Take this.” She released it in his hand. “Show it to Chris and he’ll know I sent you.”
With that, she disappeared into the cool, dead of night.
The next time they saw each other was a week later, inside an abandoned motel. There was trash strewn across the entire floor and an overhead light buzzed and flickered.The plaster had been torn apart from the ceiling board and loose cables hung from its opening.
A gruff, bulky man leaned against Leon’s shoulder which acted like a makeshift crutch, as Leon steadied him with a firm grip, half-carrying and half-guiding him to a soiled mattress in the middle of a room. The man patted Leon’s arm, indicating that he wanted to take a break. He slid down against the wall, resting in a sitting position on the mattress. His clothes were caked with mud and half of his face had been severely burnt, as charred black flesh curled at its edges. There was a gaping bullet hole in his thigh, and rusty colored blood soaked through his tactical pants.
Apart from the scratching and scampering of rodents, the place was silent. Though the uncanny peace was disrupted just a split second later, when a screech could be heard from the other end of the room. “Chris!”
In a blink of an eye, Claire dashed forward and knelt in front of her brother, grasping both of his shoulders as tears streamed down her face.
“Some FIRSTLIGHT agents got him real bad, but he managed to get out of the thick of it,” Leon explained. “They were searching for him, so he was stuck there for a while.”
Chris brushed his sooty fingers against his sister’s cheek, leaving charcoal marks in their wake. “Don’t worry, we got them back,” he rasped, shifting his gaze between Leon and him, as he grimaced through the pain.
“Shhh, don’t speak.” She brought a finger to his lips, trying to hush him. “Fucking SI bastards,” she seethed.
The Second Inquisition. The bane of every Kindred’s existence. They targeted everyone indiscriminately, regardless of sect, and had been around in one form or another since the beginning of time. Today, they were a conglomeration of intelligence agencies who made it their life mission to eradicate the undead. Apparently, even the Vatican was involved, Leon scoffed at his internal monologue, before directing his attention back at Claire. “Your brother’s had a blood bag, he’ll need—”
“Shit’s fucking disgusting, 10 out of 10 would not recommend,” Chris warned hoarsely, before erupting into a coughing fit.
Claire groaned, shaking her head in exasperation. “I swear, it’s like talking to a brick wall with this one.”
Leon peered around the room, double-checking to ensure that no one else was there. He shouldn’t stay any longer than necessary. “Since my job here is done, I’ll take my leave,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as he turned towards the exit sign.
“Leon?” Claire called out and he looked back at her in puzzlement. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged, flipping his bangs away from his face.
“I owe you,” she declared, her serious demeanor reflecting the sincerity of her words.
Chris glanced between the two of them. “We owe you,” he chimed in.
━━━━━━━━━━━
Present day…
Jasmine incense and fruity puffs of shisha smoke wafted throughout the room he had just entered. Translucent red silk sheets draped around the ceiling and the side walls, giving off the illusion of being in the hull of a ship, as well as a false sense of security. The beaded curtain he passed through made a tinkling sound as the pearls clacked lightly together, alerting others to his presence. This was a place where gossip was woven, secrets were spilled and deals were made. Leon knew this all too well, especially since he had his share of many such dealings with his sire in the past.
He was in luck today. Apart from her, there were only ghouls here, ordinary humans whom she recruited into her service and imbued with her strength. One of them nodded at him in acknowledgment, offering him a cordial glass filled with claret liquid. “Our finest.”
Clearly, they had anticipated his arrival. How nice of his sire to inform them, he ruminated sarcastically. Taking the glass from her, he swirled it, noting how smoothly it strained down the sides before sniffing the rim faintly.
“We also have live vessels, if you prefer,” she suggested.
He frowned slightly, signaling with a subtle hand wave to decline her proposal as he drank from his glass. She backed off, allowing him to walk past towards a majestic set of marble doors, lavishly decorated with ornaments and intricate figures carved into them. Tracing an outline of a distorted face of a child with his finger, he recalled how in his early years, he’d been so enraptured by everything in this godforsaken place, and most of all, her. He lifted the aged bronze knocker, tapping it twice before pushing open the double doors.
And there he saw her, in all her terrible glory, basking like a queen in an elegant kimono robe on her opulent, plush bed, adorned with a velvet headboard and its frame crafted from the finest woods. Every inch of it was covered in luxurious fabrics, from the embroidered duvet to the pile of sumptuously soft pillows. Kneeling beside her on the ground was a half naked ghoul, lapping hungrily at the crimson fluid flowing from her wrist. A blood-stained dagger lay on the bedside table.
Ada caught Leon’s gaze and smirked at him.
“That’s enough for now,” she commanded, and immediately, the ghoul straightened himself, averting his eyes as he retreated from the pair of them.
The gash on her wrist closed up on its own. “Just the monthly top up.”
Leon made a face at her elaboration; the betrayal and hurt were still raw in his memory, as if they had only occurred yesterday.
“Oh, don’t be so sour, Leon,” she laughed. “You can’t possibly be still hung up about that?”
“You used me, Ada,” he simmered. Despite the infrequency of their meetings in the recent years spent apart, she knew how to push his buttons. “So, I’m sorry if it’s a little hard for me to act like nothing ever happened between us.”
She let out an irritated sigh. “You sound like a child throwing a tantrum right now,” she retorted, picking at her nails in growing boredom. “And tell me, which sire doesn’t use their own progeny?”
He clenched his fists in anger but held his tongue. This wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on. He reminded himself of the purpose of his visit and chose not to let her snide comments ruffle him.
“Good boy,” she cooed approvingly. “I see you haven’t lost all of your manners. Blood bond, or no blood bond.”
He winced at the term, as a sudden wave of nostalgia, combined with ensuing nausea, hit him. The visions were so vivid:
“Do you love me?” She stroked the side of his cheek tenderly as he lay naked and panting on top of her pale breasts.
“Yes, yes, of course,” he fawned.
“Prove it.”
Cradling her hand, he brought the underside of her wrist to his lips. “I’ll do anything! Say the word and I’ll die for you, a thousand times over.”
“Then drink, my love.” Her eyes glowed violet as her mouth shaped into a cruel, yet alluring smile.
And he sank his teeth into her, like a good little boy.
Back then, she only needed to say “Jump,” and he would ask, “How high?” without realizing that drinking from her so often would result in a nearly unbreakable blood bond. He committed despicable acts in her name, things he would rather scrub from his mind and forget about, but they continued to haunt him.
When he lost his shine and the appeal of being something new, she discarded him like yesterday's newspaper, chasing after the next high she could find. The problem with the bond was that he was obsessed with her, often breaking out into insanely jealous fits that tormented him for days when she took on a new lover. He had almost killed one of them, which, in turn, could have resulted in his Final Death at the hands of the Prince, had he been successful. Time away from her was all it took for the bond to wear off, though it was not without its difficulties. He whined like a lovesick puppy during the moments he was alone, rotting like waste on the stone cold floor. His vulnerability was like a disease; he hated every bit of it and swore never to descend to such a state.
When he returned to the Court like a new man after an agonizing period of being weaned off the bond, he suddenly found himself no longer in vogue and stumbling his way through the dark, seeing as how it was always his sire who called the shots around town. In a twisted turn of events, he ironically ended up falling back on the career he had originally given up to be with her, in order to be of use to the Camarilla, or polite vampire society, if you will.
And then, there was the vessel business. To keep up with the expectations and obligations impressed upon him due to their formal relationship as sire and childe, he continued to bring her the vessels she requested. The only requirement was for them to be of ‘exquisite taste’ and he obliged whenever he could, though this time, he put in just the bare minimum to get by. Yet, some part of him still cared for her, in spite of what she had done, even if he would never let himself admit that.
Coming back to his senses, his eyes adjusted to the scene before him. Leaning back on her bed and propped up by the pillows, Ada patted the empty side next to her, inviting him to take a seat, and he followed her lead.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Negotiating was never one of his strong suits, especially not with Ada, but he had to try. He gulped the rest of the liquid down, fiddling with the glass in his hand. “Ada, since I joined you, you know I’ve never asked you for anything…”
She cast him a prolonged sideways glance. “You’ve piqued my curiosity. Go on.”
“I want to Embrace one of my own.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. Better to get it done and over with.
“You? Becoming a sire?” she snorted in disbelief before bursting into giggles. “I mean, you’ve always been a bit of a mommy’s boy, haven’t you?”
“I can handle it,” he responded curtly with a cold and unbroken stare.
“Hmph.” Pulling herself into a seated position against the headrest, she folded her arms and turned to face him. “I have to say though, this is even more interesting than when you joined the Anarchs.”
A disgruntled noise escaped his throat. “I didn’t join the Anarchs—”
“No matter.” She raised a hand to silence him. “Wesker seems to think it useful of you to be our unofficial emissary. And what the Prince says, goes, after all.” A sly grin spread across her cheeks, barely concealing her fangs.
Clearing her throat, she continued her line of questioning. “So, who is this prospective childe?”
“One of the owners of Café Noir on Blake Street, just east of Circular River,” he mentioned, racking his brains for any viable excuse to make you sound like the best possible candidate for the Clan of the Rose, the Toreador. His and Ada’s clan. Like sire, like childe.
There were some who thought of them as divas and perverts, but these Kindred were wrong — they were so much more than that. Passion and obsession were their greatest strengths. They could make or break minds with it, crushing you until you were nothing but a tiny speck on the Earth, to be shunned and forgotten. Everyone had something to bring to the table, and let’s just say what counts as an art has always been a purely subjective matter.
“I was tipped off that the Anarchs are looking for ways to claim the area as their domain,” he explained further. “She’ll give us the edge we need to prevent that.”
“Anything else?” she probed.
“She’s young, idealistic—”
“A lot like yourself, back in the day.” A rueful laugh escaped her lips.
Leon continued forward without missing a beat, he needed to convince her without letting her statement get to him. “Hot-blooded, but not to the extreme like those Brujahs, just the right amount of fight in her. I’m sure you’ve heard of the events they’ve hosted over there—”
“Ah, yes,” she nodded. “Very underground and avant-garde.” There was a twinge of dismissiveness in the way she said it.
“Yet pandering to the people,” he added quickly, attempting to cram in even more noteworthy achievements he had recognized in you. “Well, you can’t deny that she can stir quite a crowd—”
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Ada interrupted him for the third time in a row, and he was struggling to maintain his composure in response to her accusation. “How predictable.”
“That’s besides the point,” he snapped, turning away from her to avoid her mocking scrutiny.
She tutted, stretching herself out leisurely like a cat who had a mouse trapped between its claws. “The real question is, why don’t you ask the Prince yourself?”
“You know why,” he muttered, still unable to look her in the eyes.
“Say it.”
Swallowing his pride, he pursed his lips before speaking. “I’m just a simple whelp. But you, as an esteemed Harpy, know how to please him.”
“Very good.” She reached out and ran her lithe fingers through his silken locks of hair as he shuddered at her touch. “Just like I taught you.”
Curling her fingers under his chin, she turned his face back towards her. “You know this won’t come for free…”
“I am well aware.”
The look of determination in his eyes nearly startled her. She hadn’t seen that fire in him for a while. “Sometimes, you surprise me,” she admitted. “No wonder I keep you around.”
“Do we have a deal?” he pressed, trying to keep the conversation on track.
“If I were you, I’d be careful what I wished for.” She trailed one of her taloned nails along his bottom lip. “In any case, I’m counting this as a major boon, so you better be ready to pull your weight when the time comes.”
She was always playing games. With him. With everyone. It was what she thrived on. But his choices were limited. “Have I ever failed you?”
“Don’t make it the first,” she warned, a gleam of danger flashing across her eyes. “Well, come then, kiss me.”
Suppressing his reluctance, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers as she asked, submitting to her entirely as the deal was sealed.
━━━━━━━━━━━
“Leon?” he heard you call out from behind the bar the minute he’d stepped through the entrance. You looked like you had seen a ghost.
It had been a while since he had returned, but there were other more urgent matters he had to attend to in the meantime. Did you miss him? Was this what it was all about? He strolled over, watching you chew your lip apprehensively.
He tried to place his hand on your shoulder in concern, but you shrank away from him like a wilted flower. There was a pang in his chest. He didn’t know how you had the power to unintentionally hurt him in this way. “Is something wrong?”
You were trembling so badly, the cup you were holding rattled noisily against its saucer. “What did you do to me back then?”
A pained realization swept across his face. You had remembered the last words he had said this time, waking up confused to find yourself unsullied, not a hair out of place, wondering what on earth he meant by his remark. God, he wanted to hold you now and beg for your forgiveness, but it was too late.
“You know, I liked you…” Your mouth had contorted in anguish. “If you wanted something, you could’ve just asked.”
“Please, I can explain,” he pleaded, finding himself on the opposite end of the table for once. “I swear, I won’t do anything to harm you. I just need you to trust me, please.”
Your forehead creased as you pondered your next move, eyeing the man in front of you with suspicion. He seemed so earnest and had treated you with nothing but kindness before. Yet, beneath the surface, there lurked a predatory nature intrinsic to him. Although it scared you, you found this side to him fascinating, and it drew you in at the same time.
Finally, you came to a decision. “Patrick?” you motioned towards your curly-haired brunette colleague while not once shifting your gaze from Leon. “I’m gonna take the night off and spend some time with this gentleman here.”
Sliding Leon’s business card along the counter towards him, you made sure to talk loud enough for the blonde man to hear it. “If you don’t see me in the next day or two, you know what to do.”
You tried to laugh it off as a half-serious joke, just so they wouldn’t worry… too much. And with that, you grabbed your jacket and headed off into the night with him.
#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#porcelainscribbles
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!! this blog writes and reblogs dark content; if that makes you uncomfortable dni // this is my only blog, people claiming to be me are lying and should be reported !!
I'm admirxation (you can call me addy); I'm just an early 20s girl who loves to read & write. my dms are open and if we are mutuals u can ask for my discord.
masterlists || wips || ao3 || rules || taglist || weekly fic recs
I write for: resident evil ; baldurs gate 3 ; the last of us ; attack on titan ; jujutsu kaisen
Request status: open (if ur an anon please put ur age in the ask & read the rules)
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