kennedys-lvr

[kennedys-lvr]

VICES & VIRTUES — CHAPTER 6 (AO3)

heyo! lil preface from the past version of me who wrote these chapters ages and ages ago.. i was feral for the thought of a toxic possessive rockstar man watching his girlie on a live n getting jealous and pouty and a lil bit *u know* but upon further thought i calmed down lol. so for the next few chapters, expect the toxic possessive man but like... yeah know that ain't me now lol. better smut scenes will come. (no pun intended)

full chapter here! 🤍

Let’s see how she’d find her way out of this one.

A slight grin nudged at the corners of my lips as I soaked in her reaction through my—slightly cracked—phone screen. That smile she’d had suddenly dropped, and she quickly glanced down at the shirt covering her body before looking back up and meeting the camera with a blush crawling across her cheeks, a gentle titter leaving her lips as she rolled them about.

I’d been a little late to this stream of hers, and had remained nothing more than a silent watcher—until that moment. Although, I’d only known she was doing it after I’d spent the entire day deep cleaning the apartment, the knowledge that she’d be coming back here later spurring me on. She was a pop princess—she needed a place that looked better, smelled nicer, and sparkled.

And that wasn't my apartment before the big clean, that was for sure. I’d spent nearly four hours going from room to room—not that I had that many rooms in my eight-hundred square foot apartment that was right on the outskirts of the downtown area, equally divided between the open plan living-slash-kitchen area, a bathroom and a bedroom. But it still felt like I had a lot of rooms, given that I hardly cleaned as it is.

By the time I was done, I flopped down on my bed with an unceremonious grunt, drenched in sweat and coughing up a storm from the cleaning fluids I had just been breathing in. Once the dizziness subsided, I’d checked my phone, seeing her text about going live had come through around thirty minutes before.

I'd thought about joining her livestream from the start, right when I'd seen that text. But, my muscles ached for some warm steam to alleviate the pain from cleaning all day. And, even though she couldn't smell me through the phone, I still thought to gussy up a little, knowing that she’d be coming over later.

It seemed pointless for a moment. Once she got in that door, we’d be working up another sweat anyway, the devil on my shoulder, entirely perverted and out of control, had crooned into my ear crookedly. I’d licked my lips as my memories of this morning—the way she had felt beneath me, the feeling of her skin against mine as she let me touch and explore her, the sensation of drowning within her kisses as I had her pinned beneath me, willing and ready—had me hardening, my cock twitching at the reminder of her like a loyal hound waiting by the window for its owner to return.

I’d growled at the reminder, shaking the thoughts away before trudging off to the shower, where I had promptly washed myself clean of any sweat and stink—and jerked myself off like some kind of crazed maniac, just to gain my self-control back.

After soaking in the steam, I’d left the bathroom and logged straight into that livestream of hers. After making an Instagram account, since I didn't really bother with social media and had no intention of ever touching it. At least, that was until she came along and took over my mind, turning me into some weird, lovesick puppy dog who was joining Instagram for the sole purpose of watching her livestream.

Call me a stalker, yeah, I know.

With a fresh account made—hopefully ‘lsk77’ was a good name to blend in with—I’d searched up her Instagram handle and clicked on the profile picture, which took me straight into her livestream. I’d blended in with the crowd of commenters sending message after message that rapidly filled the screen, shifting on my bed to get comfortable for the show. My phone was filled with the image of her dancing with some guy—tall, dark and handsome, with hands in places that had me frowning as a rush of possessiveness rushed across my spine like a waterfall, sudden and ice-cold.

There was some kind of sensual Latin pop playing in the background—a song that had won awards a few years back, but I had no idea what it was called. Their eyes were locked with each other, moving together in some kind of salsa-tango infusion. She was giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl, and though she was goddamn mesmerising—as many of her comments repeatedly called out in hopes of getting noticed—I also couldn't help the jealousy that festered within me like a virus as I kept looking at her face, the smile and the laugh given to that pretty boy with bouncy black curls and a chiseled jawline.

My torture soon ended once they broke apart from each other. Dee came back to sit down in front of the screen, taking swigs of wine to cool down as the comments continued to go crazy over her and that guy. Flame emojis and keyboard smashing—God, Gen Z was fucked when it came to communicating things.

A perky blond with a short bob and glittering blue eyes—Sherry Birkin, Jake’s girlfriend—filled my screen as she looked through the comments. I had no idea that she and Dee were friends. What a small fucking world. “Am I seeing the start of a power couple here?” She’d cooed, nudging Dee with an elbow as she grinned mischievously. “Hashtag Darlos?”

“Darlos?” The fuck was that? My eyebrows furrowed, that possessiveness and jealousy working in tandem to have every nerve and cell in my body taut with attention.

“Nah,” Dee had said casually, brushing everything off with a shake of her head. “My Delights know the deal between Carlos and I.”

But I certainly fucking didn't. And the way she glanced over at him as she spoke, the slight bite of her bottom lip as her eyes flitted across him—that chiseled body drenched in sweat as he flopped back against the floor like he owned the place—had me scowling even more.

If he didn't stop smirking at my girl, I’d be knocking his teeth out.

Whoa. Too much, I think. I growled, shaking my head and pushing away that thought before it became too murderous. I was far too old to be getting involved in this toxic possessiveness bullshit. I had done it when I was younger and in my prime—the press loved a bad boy, the black-leather-jacket wearing, weed smoking, whiskey chasing rockstar. But I wasn't that anymore. I was a sad, burnt-out sack of shit who had become way too fucking cynical for today’s world.

And yet, despite that, Dee seemed to be enjoying it—enjoying me. Why she did was something I would never know. And something I also had no intention of ever understanding. I felt that, if I uncovered the real truth behind our little ‘situationship’, as the youth of today was so fond of saying—the truth being she was just trying to fulfil some little secret fantasy she had of going to bed with a bad boy, using me like some sort of kink she could explore—I’d probably get even worse than I already am.

Pushing those thoughts away, I’d tuned back into the livestream just in time for her to start answering random questions from her fans. Everything from her dream collaboration to her time as a rising child star on Disney Channel. My eyes honed in on her lips, captivated by that soft lilt of hers, the shimmer of her lip gloss and the beads of sweat that coated her forehead. Once she'd licked her lips after taking a sip of wine, I was a goner—my jealousy, the territorial dog within me instantly forgotten as something much more pleasurable rose within me.

[kennedys-lvr]

JUST TO KNOW (YOU'RE ALIVE) — CHAPTER 15 (AO3)

something big is gonna be coming this chapter... all that foreshadowing is gonna be SO WORTH ITT (at least i'm proud of the foreshadowing lol. it mighta been plainly obvious for u guys.)

full chapter here!

two more chapters left damn i gotta hustle w these new works fast

“What the hell, Jake?! We need to go back for them—” Sherry yelled in a panicked voice, banging on the shutters in a desperate attempt to figure out how to open them, the metallic rattling grating as it echoed around the room.

“No.” Jake answered, his arms folded across his chest as his eyes bored into her back, his voice insisting there was no argument to be had here, no convincing—we weren't going back.

“But—” Sherry turned, storming over to him and getting right in his face. She pointed a finger toward the shutters, toward Chris and Piers beyond them fighting for their lives. “Jake, they can't take that thing by themselves!”

“They’ll be fine. They’re BSAA, they’re trained for shit like that.”

“Not for something that big! They need us!”

“So does your partner!”

All eyes turned toward me, Jake’s voice making the room go still with tension. He then sighed and added quietly, “she’s not doing well, look at her—”

“I’m fine—” I attempted to say, though Jake was right. I was currently hunched over, fighting for breath, which I had been doing constantly for what felt like days at this point. Something was seriously wrong with me.

But I didn't want to think about what exactly it was. Because I didn't think that I’d like the answer very much.

Jake ignored my attempt at trying to profess my confidence. “I made a promise to that guy, okay? To get both of you out of here alive. And I’m doing that. I’m getting you both out, and I’m making sure we all get home safe. We've got a world to save after all, right?”

Sherry’s face softened after a beat, those previously narrowed-with-anger eyes relaxing as her frown disappeared. “Jake..”

He raised a hand, interrupting her too. “I’m not my father. I’m making damn sure I don't become him, either. He would have let the world die—I’m not. So, you’re either with me, and we fight together, or I will drag you out of here kicking and screaming.”

Sherry looked over at me, a small pout forming on her lips. Christ, how bad did I look right now? I could still move. I would still move.

I could still fight until my last breath—even though it felt like it was coming sooner rather than later.

Sherry then looked back at Jake with a nod, her body taut with determination. “Okay. Let’s get going then.”

Jake nodded back, eager to get going. He looked over at me, eyes scanning me, ready to jump into action if need be. “Need a hand? I can—”

“No.” I shook my head, sucking in a breath and forcing myself to straighten up. “I’m fine. I can keep pushing.”

Neither one of them looked convinced. “Okay… just go easy, okay?”

We headed into the next room, the heat hitting us immediately as large balls of flame shot up at us from the floor, where there was a large pool of lava at our feet. Thankfully, we had some protection from the metal walkways, but not from the sweat that slicked against my skin almost immediately. And breathing just made me sweat even more.

“I think that's the exit over there.” Sherry said hopefully, pointing to a door on the other side of the room.

“Alright.” Jake took the lead, beckoning us to follow. “Be careful, there's a drop here. I’ll go down first then catch you both.”

He dropped down a few feet, then turned and held out his arms. Sherry dropped down first, landing in his arms with a squeak and a slight blush as Jake set her down, but I quickly attributed that to the heat in this room. No other reason why she would be blushing, right?

Then, it was my turn. I sat down and swung my legs over the side of the ledge, using that to push me off rather than jumping directly down. Jake caught me with a grunt and a slight stumble before he set me down carefully.

“Okay. Let’s hustle, before I get a terrible tan.”

The home stretch. The end was in sight, and all we had to do was cross this lava. We broke out into a jog, before our heads whipped around at the sound of a loud roar.

Fuck. That monster was back, looking totally un-pancaked despite having been crushed by a goddamn pylon. He’d even changed out the attachment on his arm. It was now a large, spiked ball that swung with wild abandon, knocking down the pipes and sealing off the way he came in.

Trapping himself in here with us.

“Dee, look out!” Sherry gasped, grabbing me and ducking down, pulling me out of the way of the path of the ball.

“Okay, I see only one way out of this.” Jake gritted his teeth, glaring up at the monster, his sights trained on it. “We gotta take him down.”

“Okay.” Sherry agreed, pulling me back onto my feet. With her other hand, she grabbed her gun from her holster and aimed it, as did I.

We shuffled back as the monster came forward. This walkway was way too small to fight on. “Let’s get some distance! Quickly!” Jake shouted, turning and running further into the area. Sherry and I followed behind him, the walkway shaking as the creature followed us too, soaking up the bullets that Jake and Sherry fired at him in intermittent bursts.

We jumped over a gap in the walkway, which had me nearly tripping over my feet as a wave of nausea and dizziness knocked me back for a moment. But, before I could right myself, Jake was grabbing me and putting me on his back, aiming to carry me the rest of the way. “I gotcha. Hold on tight.”

My heart fluttered a little at the gesture, feeling a small lump of gratitude in my throat, which I swallowed down as my arms and legs wrapped tight around him. As soon as we’d gotten some proper distance between us and the creature, Jake set me down somewhere out of the way, turning to Sherry as he grabbed his gun from its holster once more.

“Stay here with her. I’ll fight the big guy.”

“On your own?” Sherry shook her head, reloading her gun ready for another round. “No. I’ll provide covering fire up here.”

Jake didn't protest, already jumping back into the fight and unloading a hail of bullets into the bullet-sponge of a bioweapon that had been chasing us for what felt like years. Sherry did the same from her higher position, the two of them taking on either side. But the creature wasn't about to go down without some kind of fight, that spiked ball stretching wider and faster in every which way, nearly knocking Sherry from her platform.

“We gotta get rid of that mace!” Jake yelled breathlessly, all of the constant ducking and diving in attempts to avoid the ball putting a strain on him. “It’s the only way we stand a proper chance!”

As if the universe had been listening in on us and was waiting for the right moment to let fate intervene, the spiked ball got stuck on a bit of metal flooring. Jake grinned at this, chuckling under his breath as he rushed for the creature, using every last bit of his strength to rip the ball and chain out from the socket.

However, the monster didn’t take too kindly to this, swinging his free arm in a large curve and forcing the gun out of Jake’s hand, which slid—in what seemed like slow motion—across the ground and straight into the lava.

“Shit. No gun.” Jake huffed out an angry breath, cheeks puffing, before he brought his fists up in a fighting stance, rolling his shoulders about. The determined glint in his eyes refused to fade.

“Guess I’m settling this the old fashioned way, then.”

He then proceeded to start throwing punches at the creature, as if this monster wasn’t a ten-foot-fall, gazillion pound man-made force of evil and was just some schmuck you fought with at your local after one too many beers.

Sherry and I watched on from our little perch, our faces a picture of confusion and disbelief. “Is he… is he fist-fighting a bioweapon?” Sherry asked out of the corner of her mouth, unable to take her eyes off of what was going on down below.

The snarky little joke came to me instantly, prompting me to stifle a chuckle. “He’s taking a page out of Redfield’s book.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

[kennedys-lvr]

VICES & VIRTUES — CHAPTER 5 (AO3)

nothing to say here except dancer!carlos. u guys get dancer!carlos. dancer!carlos who is a GOSSIP and has as much chaotic energy as our main girlie has lol. enjoy.

full chapter here!

Giving a wide, tired smile to my reflection, I posed with my hand on my hip as my other hand was posed in a ‘shush’ position. As was the ending pose that had been come up for me for ‘Greedy’, which Carlos and I had just ran through—as well as the other songs that were on the setlist for my upcoming tour.

The album dropped in four days, and the tour wasn't until another week from now. But, RC’s CEOs—visionaries Albert and Alex Wesker—loved to be prepared lifetimes in advance for things, which was why I was running myself into the ground trying to perfect these dance moves before the sixteenth.

I panted heavily as I reached for my water bottle on the side, taking long sips of it as my heart went back to its resting rate. My skin was covered in an unpleasantly sticky sheen of sweat as I fanned myself with the drenched neckline of my t-shirt—the same shirt I had been wearing this morning, the washed-out Dante tour shirt from their 1999 North American tour for their album ‘Demolition Lovers’. I’d paired the shirt with my favourite pair of slate grey gym shorts, as well as my tan Nike Air Maxs.

My body thrummed with exhaustion, much like it had when I’d jumped into the shower this morning to take care of myself after Leon had decided to tease me like he had. Remembering it now, the feeling of his skin on mine, the weight of him pressing me into his mattress as his breath had ghosted over my skin, had my stomach churning in the best way as I bit down on my bottom lip, breathing in slowly to stem the rush of excitement at the fact that, soon enough, I get to crawl back into his bed again—and this time when both of us were stone-cold sober.

A heavy, warm hand clapped me on the shoulder, making me jump as I gaped up into the sweat, smiling face of Carlos Oliveira. Famous choreographer to the likes of Beyoncé and BLACKPINK, as well as having his name in the credits for most well-known dance-focused movies.

This tanned, black-haired god of a man was extremely well sought after, but I was lucky enough to have him permanently on my team of staff—and as one of my closest friends.

“Good session today, chica,” he teased, his Spanish drawl always making me feel light and airy as he pulled his hair out of the tie he kept it in, the black curls popping out like a rubber band. “As always. You have a good teacher.”

“That I do,” I winked back at him, putting my water bottle back on the side after flipping the metallic lid back down before picking up my phone to text leon. I had messaged him a few times since giving him my number, letting him know what I was up to—building up anticipation for the next time we’d meet. Tonight, I told myself as I loaded up my messages. Tonight we’d finish what we’d started.

Whilst I didn't exactly know what we were at this moment in time, I was pretty excited to see where it would lead.

Me: Hey. Just finished practice. Gonna do a quick livestream and then come back to your place. Give me an hour or so.

I pressed ‘send’ on the text, humming softly to myself as I opened up my Instagram app, clicking onto the camera option before setting up a livestream. I didn't even realise I was showing my emotions on my face, but Carlos seemed to be grinning slyly at the demure little grin that I could feel breaking my cheeks, his chuckle boyish as he gave me a playful nudge in the ribs.

“Got a new man you’re texting, hermosa?”

“Hm?” At this, my cheeks got even hotter.

“You’re smiling at your phone,” Carlos poked my side again, making me squeak and bite my bottom lip. “And when you came in here earlier, you were acting like you were floating on a cloud. You had a glow—so, who gave you it?”

“Nobody..”

The irritating thing about Carlos was that, no matter what, he always could sniff out a secret you were hiding from miles away. Just like Claire. The only difference between them, though, was that Carlos was much more likely to tease me about my little secrets rather than ream me out for them. “Bébe…” He groaned playfully, folding his arms across his chest and levelling me with a raised-eyebrow glare.

I rolled my eyes at his sassy expression, though in the same breath I also quickly glanced toward the practice room door, as if expecting someone to walk through and catch me in the act of revealing my big secret. Claire had been in here for most of the day, working on stuff on her laptop and supervising—as she often did when any kind of music of mine was about to be released—but at the moment, she had stepped out of the room for something.

Anticipating that the coast was clear for a moment, I caved into telling Carlos what I was hiding. After all, I could trust him to treat this topic with the compassion that a close friend would have. “Okay. You know that rockstar guy from last week, the one that—”

“Loved on you and told you to get out? Him?”

“Mhm.”

There was a brief pause as the cogs turned in Carlos’s beautiful brain. When it finally clicked, his grin was wide and teasing as he nudged me once more, making me giggle softly as the weight began to lift from my shoulders. “I see, I see. You bagged yourself a rockstar. An older rockstar. So, are you two—”

“Not sure yet,” I said, grabbing my bottle for another quick refreshing sip of lukewarm mineral water. “But we hooked up again last night. And then this morning he cooked me breakfast and we almost went at it again, but I had to come here.”

“I interrupted your morning sex session? Should I apologise?” Carlos smirked, waggling his eyebrows as the deep warm pools of his brown eyes twinkled with mirth.

I stifled a laugh behind my fist, feeling my own eyes shimmer with amusement. “Nah. You’re fine—it’s not you, it's this damn release schedule. But, we're keeping things on the down low right now—so please don't tell anyone. Let me do the talking.”

“Right, right. But, uh—if you’re on the down low then you might want to change out of the guy’s band’s shirt, chica.”

I looked down at the shirt I was wearing, as if it had suddenly occurred to me that I was definitely broadcasting my secret relationship for all to see. But then I rolled my eyes and shrugged, not a care in the world. “I’ll just make up a lie. Say I found it in a thrift shop or something.”

Claire came back in at the most inopportune time. Carlos and I effortlessly slipped back into nonchalance, feigning innocence. “Anyway—shall we get this livestream started?”

“You’re the boss, chica.” Carlos winked, keeping his expression subtle yet knowing as I forced myself not to react to it. Sparing a glance to Claire, she nodded at me in agreement—allowing the livestream to go ahead as she tucked herself back into her little corner and settled her laptop into her lap, adjusting the red-rimmed glasses on her eyes.

As I was about to press the button to begin the live, a text notification from Sherry pinged at the top of my screen.

Sherry: On way up. Brought wine.

“Sherry brought wine with her,” I reported to Carlos, pressing the live button and holding my phone aloft in the air, the front camera of my phone pointed at myself. There was a small countdown from three before the little red dot appeared in the corner of my screen, telling me that I was streaming live.

“Okay.” I quickly whispered to myself, before grinning widely and greeting the masses that had started to flood in. In the blink of an eye, the viewer count went from one hundred to five hundred, then one thousand, then two, and steadily climbing.

“Hey, everyone! My lovely Delights, hello! Welcome, welcome!” I said to the fans, watching my phone screen flood with greetings and messages so fast that I could barely keep up with them all. I laughed, tucking a runaway strand of hair behind my ear as I murmured, “man, you guys are making my phone hot. Let me set this down somewhere..”

Walking over toward the mirrored wall in front of me, I bent down to set my phone up against my duffel bag and the discarded button-up that had been a part of one of the songs for my upcoming set. With the phone set down, I flopped down in front of it with a tired sigh, resting back on a hand as the other rubbed at my shoulder.

“Hello, my lovelies. I hope you’re all doing great—I’ve just finished a long dance rehearsal. Tour’s coming up. As you know, I’m dropping my album in a matter of days,” I winked coyly to my adoring public.

[kennedys-lvr]

JUST TO KNOW (YOU'RE ALIVE) — CHAPTER 14 (AO3)

this chapter marks the end of leon's re6 campaign! i still keep in some canon moments from the final boss fight but also change it up in places. much shorter chapter compared to the other chapters but still, it gets the job done :3

enjoy it! the full chapter is here!

“Leon?”

Helena’s voice beside me seemed so far away as I stared out of the glass wall of the rising elevator, taking in the carnage of the city outside. The towers in front of us that were burning, windows bursting with flame as terror rocked through every building in our vicinity.

So much had happened within the past hour. I could hardly wrap my head around it all.

The issue at large? A missile had struck the district of Tatchi, spreading the blue fog of the C-Virus to so many more people than before.

And on top of all that? Simmons. Helena and I had first fought him on the subway train through Lianshang, where he had mutated from a human to some kind of four-legged beast thanks to being injected with the C-Virus. And he had nearly killed us both, if not for him being distracted enough by the sight of his cronies leaving him in his mutated form for Helena and I to get in the few final shots that would kill him off.

Except those shots hadn't killed him off. He had come back twice as strong, mutated as some kind of T-Rex terrorising the Quad Tower.

Following the carnage in Koocheng, Helena and I had linked up with a platoon in the BSAA that helped us get further into the district, pointing us toward potential survivors. I had managed to get reinforcements sent in to help save Dee, Sherry and Jake too. Chris and Piers agreed to the task, and were hopefully on their way to the underwater lab where they were being held, according to Hunnigan’s intel.

“Leon.”

Helena did her best to get my attention again. I was pulled from my thoughts with a grunt of acknowledgement. I heard her sighing softly, and shuffled closer. “Hey.” she mumbled, placing a gentle hand against my shoulder. A steady weight that brought me further and further out of the spiral. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” No. I wasn't. I’d just watched Dee get taken for a second time. I had no idea where exactly she was or if she was okay. I could only hope that she was, and that Jake was looking out for her. For both of those girls.

I couldn't get the sight of her face out of my mind. The look of fear in her eyes. How sick she looked, like she was ready to pass out at the drop of a hat. The sound of her scream as she was dragged away.

I blinked rapidly, pushing those thoughts away like I had done so many times in the past hour. I needed to focus. Especially now. We were going home, together, I forced myself to remember, repeating the words in my head like a mantra.

We had to. Just one final stretch, one last thing to do.

“Leon—”

Before Helena could finish, an explosion caused the elevator we were in to shake, snapping from its cable and dangling dangerously to one side. The glass wall smashed, the jagged edges cutting our faces. As it tilted further and further, threatening to fall, Helena and I quickly jumped to safety to the second of the four towers that made up the Quad Tower, landing on top of another elevator with a grunt before we rushed for the cables grabbing onto them and climbing just as that elevator crashed toward the ground too.

The wind whipped past us at a lightning fast speed, making my cut cheeks sting even more as my hands burned from the cables despite my gloves. I kept my grip tight and looked up, dreading the climb ahead of us.

I could do this. I’d been an ace at rope-climbing in the past.

In the past.

“Shit. Climb.” Helena said, having no issue at all with climbing. I followed behind, lagging slightly as I pushed every ounce of my energy into forcing my arms and legs to work in tandem. Not allowing myself to be weighed down by worry and fear, nor by the thousands of voices echoing around my head.

Chris’s voice was the loudest of them all, when he had delivered news that had hit like a crushing blow.

Ada Wong is dead.

“Is that who I think it is?”

My head snapped up to Helena, who was looking off into the distance, toward a walkway that connected the two buildings. On top of that walkway was..

No. It couldn't be.

“Ada?”

I couldn't really see from how far away we were, but I could just about catch the iconic silk of her red shirt that we had seen back in Tall Oaks, her jet black bob fluttering in the wind as she fired her gun toward the approaching monster.

Simmons. “Fuck. I thought we killed that guy.”

“Come on. We’ll provide some cover fire for her.” Helena jumped down onto a nearby roof, another walkway that had barely survived the constant explosions around it. I followed, the two of us grabbing our guns from our holsters and firing.

Our bullets weren't doing shit with how far away we were. “Shit.” I grumbled, sucking air through my teeth. “We’re useless from this far away—”

The steady platform that we were on began to collapse, forcing us back onto the cables again. “Keep climbing!” Helena yelled, as if such an order wasn't painfully obvious. “Catch up, Leon! Stick together!”

“I always get stuck with the bossy ones…” I mumbled under my breath, but despite the hint of sarcasm in my tone, I smiled with a twinge of nostalgia.

I didn't mind the bossy ones all that much. Especially when said bossy one was—

A roar rang out through the air, the cable jostling wildly as Simmons had found us. His quadrupedic form scaled the building, claws digging into steel and concrete as it chased after us, jaws snapping and dripping with a greedy drool. “Shit.” I hissed under his breath, before glancing up at Helena, who, again, was miles ahead of me. “He’s coming!”

“Fuck!” Helena cursed. “Ada… if you can see us, do something…”

At that moment, a gunshot rang out, hitting Simmons in the back. He lifted his head, soon finding Ada and rushing after her. Leaping into the air, he arcs before landing on the walkway she was on, limbs stretching out as he bounded over her like an overeager puppy, knocking the gun from her hands and prompting her to roll out of the way at the last second.

“Ada!” I called out to her. I didn't even hesitate. I swung over to help, eyes on Ada as I went to issue the order to my partner. “Helena—”

“Yeah, I know. I've got you covered.” She kept climbing up higher to find some leverage. I landed on the walkway that Simmons and Ada were in, rushing to grab Ada’s gun as she pushed herself back onto her feet, swaying from side to side as she slowly righted herself.

“Fancy meeting you here.” She grinned, taking her gun from me and firing a magnum round that hit Simmons in the face as he transformed into some kind of centaur-like creature.

“I was told you were dead.” I said, grabbing my own gun and helping to take him down, my bullets properly hitting now that I was closer.

“Me? Dead? Please.” She blew a raspberry. “I plan to live forever, handsome.”

Simmons sidestepped the bullets we fired at him, morphing back into his human form. Deep red scars marred his face and bare chest from where he had transformed so many times. “Ada, my love,” his voice was a demonic croon, his smirk wicked even from afar. “I’m sorry for hurting you, but you aren't being very nice to me either…”

“What's his problem?”

“He’s obsessed with me.”

“Who isn't these days?”

Ada chuckled, a soft titter over the sound of gunfire. Helena had joined the fray too. “I worked with him some time ago. It seems he fell for me during that time, and can't take rejection well. So, he made a clone of me. There's been a woman running around with my face for years—that is the woman who’s dead. The one the BSAA killed.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I was planning to kill her too. Can’t have her ruining my stellar reputation, can I?”

I smirked, a laugh bubbling in my gut. I felt warm from this bantering with Ada, the chemistry that crackled between us as we traded jokes whilst firing upon our targets. Even though sometimes it did cut a little too close from being more than just banter.

There were often times where I thought about it. The kiss that we shared way back when in that cable car, during that horrific night in Raccoon City. Even though that kiss had mainly been to distract me, to ground me back into reality, it still felt real.

I sometimes thought about what might have happened had things turned out different. Had Ada and I actually got together.

But then I remember that we wouldn't have worked all that well. Not in the way that Dee and I worked. Ada and I were too different, too much for that adage of ‘opposites attract’.

I glanced at her, wondering if she was thinking about it too. She answered the question with a different thought entirely. “Heard that your wife is still alive.”

Dee. “Yeah. How did you know about that?” But as I asked, I already knew the answer. “Keeping tabs on them too?”

“No. I ran into them during my race to stop my evil clone. Helped save their skin.”

Ada Wong, willingly helping people? Without expecting anything from it? “You’ve turned over a new leaf.”

[kennedys-lvr]

VICES & VIRTUES — CHAPTER 4 (AO3)

this is ur fave fic writer speaking telling u that from this point on this relationship is gonna move SO fast so you better hold on lmao. most of the time you're gonna be getting wall to wall smut. will warn u when tho lol.

full chapter here! enjoy! 🤍

The morning sun warmed my face as I once again awoke to my blackout curtains being wide open. Naked aside from the sheet that covered my crotch, my room smelled heady with sweat, sex and regret. I let out a deep groan as I covered my eyes with my arm, breathing in deeply and letting the realisation that I’d slept with her again set in.

The bed was empty this time around, the sheets rumpled, but the warmth on the mattress was fresh as I brushed my hand over it, smoothing out the wrinkles on the mattress topper. My head was pounding with the tell-tale sign of a hangover, though it wasn't as bad this time around.

Maybe I hadn't drunk as much this time around?

Noticing the ashtray on my bedside table, the burnt out spliff caught my attention. Maybe we had gotten high instead? I frowned thoughtfully, trying to figure out what the last thing I remembered was. In the haze of my memory, I recalled the bar, paying for her drink, and heading out to the rooftop with her again.

So long as you don't fuck me again. Those were the words Dee had teased me with. “Wouldn't dream of it, princess,” I uttered softly, just like I had promised last night.

Oh, how easy I’d broken that promise.

“Hi.” The soft sound of her voice greeting me had my head turning in her direction, my eyes instantly drawn to her chest as I saw she was wearing that same shirt again—and only that shirt. I was also able to see her legs in the daylight—thick thighs that curved out into slender legs, and small, dainty bare feet.

Cute.

“Hi.” I croaked, smiling sheepishly as I swallowed and brought my gaze back to her face. “I’m guessing that we—”

“Yep,” She answered with a similar kind of smile, popping the ‘p’ sound. Sighing heavily, she dragged a hand through her messy bed head as she added, “the exact same way as last time too.”

“The same way?” I asked, eyebrows furrowing in sleepy confusion.

“Car. Kitchen. Couch. Bed.”

“Ah.” I paused for a beat, letting that thought settle before I asked: “I’m guessing we got high?”

“A little bit,” she mumbled, folding her arms loosely around her chest and itching her arm casually. “Only after, though. And you also smoked more than I did—I only had a little.”

Oh. That's something, I guess.

Her eyes dropped to look at the floor, then looked back up at me. “Do you want me to go?”

I blinked at the question, hesitating in giving her my answer. The smart decision, I knew, would be to tell her to leave. I’d fucked up for a second time, sleeping with her without being aware of it. I’d told myself time and time again to never involve myself in celebrity drama, to not go down a road like this that would involve me with a young popstar like her.

But I had done just that—not once, but twice. And whilst I might not remember via my mind what had gone down, my body certainly remembered every last detail.

The logic within me told me to tell this woman to leave. But another voice—a little voice in my heart, the little voice that controlled the feeling of guilt—insisted that this time around, I treat her nicer. Especially because she was staring at me with that expression that told me she was preparing to get her heart broken again, and such an expression gnawed at me like a mouse gnawed at cheese, scratching me down to the bare bones.

Whilst I might not have known why I kept approaching this woman, I knew that, for whatever reason it was, it must be a good one—right?

“Maybe I should make you breakfast instead?”

“What?”

I had no idea what I was saying either. But, I figured that I’d already fucked up twice in sleeping with her—I might as well tread whatever path I was on a little while longer. What more could I do in the space of a morning that I hadn't done already? It wasn't like I could undo having sex with her.

“Breakfast,” I said again, speaking slower so she comprehended the words coming out of my mouth that sounded foreign to the both of us. “I could make you breakfast. Seeing as you were in my bed last night. It’s the least I could do.”

She still looked at me like I was playing some kind of cruel joke on her, and I realised such a joke was for good reason. She was definitely waiting for the other shoe to drop—for me to reveal that I was still that cruel, heartless bastard that had kicked her out last time without even a word of goodbye.

Sighing tiredly, I pushed myself out of bed, grabbing my boxers from the floor and pulling them on before going to my dresser and grabbing a pair of gray sweats, pulling them on too. “Well, if you’re hungry, let me know—”

“Okay,” She said quietly, still unmoving by her position at the door.

I stopped in my tracks, turning to her with a raised eyebrow before I folded my arms and leaned against the dresser, trying to fight the smirk on my face. “Okay?”

“Okay to breakfast. I’m guessing this means you’re allowing me to stay?”

I chuckled. This sweet little thing really lacked a brain in the mornings, huh? “Breakfast at my place isn't a to-go affair, princess,” I told her, spinning on my heels and heading for the kitchen.

On the way, I took note of the clothes strewn about the hallway. My discarded shirt, her discarded bra—something lacy and black, which made me hum with interest seeing it with fresh eyes. Her heels had been presumably kicked off somewhere near the couch, and that black and purple evening dress had been stripped off by the front door.

Each item of clothing was like a breadcrumb trail of sex, helping me piece together each landmark in order.

Opening the fridge, I grabbed a couple of eggs and the packet of bacon, putting them onto the counter whilst I snagged the frying pan that hung from the pot rack near the stove, deciding to whip up a couple of plates of bacon, eggs and toast. As the food sizzled away, filling the apartment with the smell which made my empty stomach growl with impatience, I made a start on coffee.

I was acutely aware that perhaps I should clean up around here a bit, seeing as I now had an official guest. In the past, I had never really invited hookups to stick around—that, or they were usually gone by the time I woke up, or I'd insisted the hookups happen in the tertiary location that didn't involve sticking around after the fact.

If Dee was going to be hanging out in my apartment with me for the morning, eating the food from my fridge and lounging in my space—maybe she ought to be able to look at a kitchen that was cleaner than the one I currently had. A kitchen that was messy and disorganised, with a sink full of dishes and a mildly overflowing trash can.

Hearing her bare feet padding across the hardwood floor, I realised there was no time for cleaning. I turned my head just as she leaned against the counter directly behind me, her arms folded across her chest as she stared at me with that same apprehension as before.

I offered her a gentle smile. “So—I’m making coffee, if you want some?”

“Do you have juice?”

“In the fridge,” I nodded my head toward the fridge. “Knock yourself out.”

She hummed in thanks, opening the fridge and glancing inside. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her grimace a little bit. “You’ve got a lot of crap in here. Leftovers, micro meals… anything actually healthy?”

“I’m not much of a cook. Only the simple stuff,” I shrugged in an attempt at being casual, though hearing from her how shitty my fridge was stung a little bit—like I was doing my best to impress her to make up for my poor bedside manner the first time around. Flipping the strips of bacon and the sizzling eggs, I then poured out a cup of coffee from the freshly brewed pot.

The first sip of black coffee tasted bitter on my tongue on the way down. “Does that bother you?” I eyed her carefully.

“No,” She said quickly, pulling a carton of orange juice from inside the fridge’s door and opening the cap, taking a swig directly from the carton like some kind of animal—like how I might drink out of it. I carefully studied the way her throat bobbed with each swallow, tracking the tiny droplet of juice that leaked out of the opening and dribbled down her chin with my lips slightly parted, enthralled by the disgusting yet strangely alluring sight.

Pulling the opening back from her lips, she licked them before replacing the cap. She then smiled cheekily, her tone mischievous as she teased, “that just means I need to teach you how to cook. I figure it’s the least that I could do, seeing as my presence here seems to mess with your life.”

“You don't mess with my life, princess,” I said without thinking, unable to take the words back as I flipped the eggs and bacon again, the hiss punctuating the lull of silence between us. Grabbing some slices of bread from the metal breadbin, I dropped four slices into the toaster and pushed the plunger down as I continued, “my life isn't much, as you can see. If anything, I made it a mess before you came along.”

I paused for a long moment of thought, frowning at the mess within my mind. I was trying not to think too much about this decision of letting her stick around. Not because I didn't want her around, but because I wasn't used to this. Conversation. Making small talk—especially with hookups.

I enjoyed being around her, though—poor conversation skills be damned. Even though I should be telling her to go, I didn't want her to.

[kennedys-lvr]

JUST TO KNOW (YOU'RE ALIVE) — CHAPTER 13 (AO3)

hehehe we're getting closer to the end (i gotta fill out the final chapter count lol) ((but trust it's like... 18 chapters)) ANYWAYS u get some fluffy fluff first tho before The Horrors(tm)

full chapter here! enjoy! 🤍

3rd March 2010 — Washington D.C.

Three Years Ago

I hummed along to the melody of ABBA’s ‘Super Trouper’, standing in front of the stovetop and using a spatula to press down on the sizzling lamb chops, whilst in another pot, peeled potatoes were bubbling away to soon be mashed up once soft enough. I had a tub of green beans ready to be put into the microwave, and gravy granules ready to be turned into a delicious topping for the mash.

Lamb chops were Leon’s favourite. But, then again, he claimed to like everything I made for dinner, so the jury was still well and truly out. Also, the lamb chops needed to be used up, so that was another reason why they were being cooked up.

Leon was on his way back. He’d been on a mission in Rio—lucky asshole, but I digress. I would have gone too, but I was still on my few weeks of paid leave from the last mission I went on. He was at some kind of fancy gala with a bunch of world leaders, which quickly devolved into a nightmare of the bioweapon variety. A terrorist group trying to make a statement.

It had been all over the news, but Leon had been left out of it—federal agent rights, or something, protecting identities. But, the world leaders were singing his praises left, right, and center.

He was a hero, so I was making him a hero’s dinner, and planning to give him a hero’s welcome.

As the chops sizzled away, the smell of mint from the coating I had given them wafted around the kitchen, making my mouth water with anticipation. My stomach growled with impatience. Or perhaps that was Trixie, who was kindly ‘supervising’ tonight’s dinner prep. Or, to put it better, she was waiting for me to turn her back so that she could attempt to swipe something.

I knew this little kitty of mine way too well. And Leon spoiled her way too much when he had control of the kitchen during breakfast. Who knew he was such a cat lover?

My brain pinged back with a sarcastic quip that was way too dirty to say aloud, so I snorted softly instead, abandoning my post for a moment or two to gently lift my fuzzy little furbaby into my arms and bounce around with her as ‘Super Trouper’s chorus kicked in.

Except she lasted barely five seconds before she let out a meow and squirmed in my hold, demanding to be set free. I did just that, setting her down to avoid the wrath of her claws. The second her paws touched the floor, she sprinted off toward the front door, which was one of her favourite spots in the apartment.

She was waiting for Leon too, it seemed. Probably to muscle him out of his treats.

“You never want to dance with me, do you, Trix?” I sighed dramatically, feigning hurt as I turned and got back to making dinner. Grabbing a fork, I nudged it gently against the boiling potatoes to turn them, before using the spatula to do the same to the chops, tapping my foot to the music as ‘Super Trouper’ faded out and ‘How Will I Know’ by Whitney Houston faded in.

My main dance partner was always Leon. We would spend hours in this kitchen dancing together whenever one of us was cooking something. In the mornings, Leon had his rock mix going. He would hum and headbang to his gritty rock mix, either at six in the morning or earlier than that. If I was awake and alert, I would join him for the impromptu kitchen rock concert. Other times, I was still in bed, a pillow over my head to cover up the sound of his impressions of Steven Tyler or Chris Cornell.

The evening is where I had my time to shine, and I got to play my own mix. It had a little bit of everything, from nineties grunge tunes stolen from Leon’s playlist, to pop and rock classics from the eighties and seventies, or stuff from the noughties. Whenever my mix was playing, Leon would act as if he hated it at first, raising his eyebrows to the likes of Dolly Parton or ABBA, but soon enough he would join in on my groove, bumping hips and belting out the songs alongside me.

God, I missed him. How long until he was home?

The chorus kicked in, so I whistled along with it. Whistling then became singing, where I probably had Whitney rolling in her grave as I attempted to replicate her voice, fully in my element as I belted out one of the most classic songs in her repertoire, the spatula as my microphone and the white subway tile backsplash behind the stove as my audience.

I didn’t even hear the door opening or closing, nor the sound of the duffel bag being dropped, Trixie’s soft meow or the gentle greeting he always gives her. I only noticed he was back when a blur of white cellophane had me jumping out of my skin, nearly splashing boiling water all over myself as I jumped back into a firm chest and someone’s foot.

I knew exactly who it was, judging by the soft grunt and grumble of pain followed by a low chuckle that tickled against the shell of my ear. One of his arms slipped around my waist from behind, tugging me further back against him in the familiar lift-me-off-the-ground hug that Leon usually gave me when he came home.

“Lesson learned. Don’t interrupt your performances.”

“Not whilst I’m cooking dinner, no,” I giggled back, my heart fluttering as he set me back down again. Reaching out for the flowers, I sucked in a delighted gasp at the beautiful arrangement of pink roses and baby’s breath. It was a familiar bouquet—the only kind I got from Leon, because he knew how much I adored those flowers. That, and carnations, which I generally got for my birthday.

Pressing my nose into the flowers, I took a deep breath in of that fresh, slightly sweet scent before drawing my head back, glancing up toward the man who had gifted them to me.

Leon had his chin resting atop my shoulder, his stubble tickling against the bare skin. His hands rested against my hips, thumbs rubbing against my hipbones through the silky material of my black nightgown as he swayed us from side to side to the beat of the new song that had started to play, Bryan Adams’s ‘Heaven’. He crooned softly in my ear, his smooth raspy singing voice making me giggle as a low thrum of excitement bubbled in my gut, much like the potatoes that were close to being properly cooked through.

“You gave me a fright.” I grinned, whispering over the romantic vocals of Bryan Adams. “I was in the zone, there.”

“I know. Sorry, beautiful.”

“You’re forgiven. Because of these.” I stepped out of his arms for a moment, reaching for the glass vase on the counter island behind us. The precious bouquet which he had gotten me a few weeks back was wilting, the flowers shrivelled and the fallen petals scattered across the wooden worktop. Taking the dead flowers, I threw them out before grabbing the vase and washing it out to replace the water—until Leon stopped me, snatching it out of my hands before I could continue, taking charge and bumping me out of the way with his hip.

“I’ve got these. Get back to whatever it is you’re cooking.” He gave me an easygoing smile that then turned into a flirtatious smirk. “Finish it before I get so hungry I start eating you.”

“Ooh. Demanding.” I teased, winking at him and biting my lip before I turned back to the stovetop, reaching over to my phone which was connected to the speaker and turning the volume down so that I could listen to him moving around the kitchen.

The crinkle of the cellophane as he removed it, the soft snip of scissors as he trimmed the stems and removed the thorns, combined with the bubble of pots and pans and the sizzle of meat on the go, and Leon’s low whistling. Such mundane sounds, yet it was moments like this that I loved the most—the two of us unwinding after a hard day, co-existing in the same space and time.

“There.” He said, soon finished with arranging the flowers. I chuckled as I heard him giving Trixie a familiar stern warning. “Now, little minx, don't you go knocking these off.”

“She hasn't done that for a couple of years, babe.” I tell him, remembering the last time she did it. Leon had grumbled, ranted and raved as he’d swept up glass and mopped up water, and wagged a finger at Trixie for ten minutes before he’d caved and forgiven her, all whilst the cat was thoroughly into licking her paw.

“That's because I’ve been training her.” Leon claimed proudly, grinning at me as he wrapped his arms around me once more, swaying us again.

“Yeah?” I hummed, tilting my head slightly as I felt his lips brushing delicate pecks against my shoulder, creeping up toward my neck.

“Yeah. Every time she sits near them and doesn't move a muscle, she gets a treat.”

I rolled my eyes. “That's not training. That's spoiling her.”

“Shush.” He muttered playfully, nipping at the space where my shoulder met my neck. “Or I’m taking the flowers away.”

I snorted at him, knowing he wasn't going to be doing that. Spinning myself out of his arms, I took his hands in mine and dragged him with me, flashing him my most convincing smile. “Dance with me.”

[kennedys-lvr]

VICES & VIRTUES — CHAPTER 3 (AO3)

first dee chapter!! eeee!! as u can tell girlie is NOT HAPPY about being forced to take a walk of shame lol

song + album mentioned in this chapter isn't mine! the song is originally by tate mcrae, and ofc short n sweet is sabrina's album lol yeah anyways

full chapter here! enjoy! 🤍

RC Records, a tall metal-and-glass skyscraper that blended in well with the other metal-and-glass skyscrapers that populated the busy downtown area of LA, blotted out the bright mid-morning sun as I pulled up to it in my slate grey Range Rover. Swerving my way into the underground parking garage, I handed a black coffee in a styrofoam cup to the security guy at the booth that buzzed me in, Billy, who gladly accepted my offering as I smiled and drove on through.

I made it a habit to always bring coffee with me whenever I was a little late to the office—my peace offering to smooth things over to the busy staff that attend to my busy schedule. Not that I necessarily had much on today, other than a few recording sessions that didn't have to be done so early. But, Claire had called me between leaving Leon’s place and arriving at the gym for a post-disgraced-hookup sweat session, so I felt that I should at least be as punctual as possible.

As I was coming straight from the gym—I’d of course made sure to shower—I was still in my slate grey sports bra and shorts, sporting a black baseball cap that was pulled low across my face until I manoeuvred into my usual parking space, in which I then took the cap off to run a hand through my hair, trilling my lips as I leaned back against the car’s fine leather seat with a low sigh as the events of last night—as well as the aftermath of this morning—weighed heavy on my mind.

Whilst my memories of last night were still a little hazy thanks to the drinks we’d had, my body still remembered every last detail as if it were happening all over again. Last night had been a rush like no other—an instance of being bad, of breaking a norm, and doing something outside of the expected. Outside of the box that I had been forced in. Not that I allowed anybody to do such a thing, but I had a stereotype.

I was the innocent little pop princess. As innocent as one could be when singing about sex and relationships.

I'd never been with a guy that old before, only ever dating within my age bracket—and within the target demographic of ‘boy next door’ types, to match my ‘girl next door’ type. But Leon was different—a grungy, dirty rockstar that ran through my mind and my body like a tornado, destroying everything in his path in the most addictive way possible.

And then he’d ruined it, by acting as if I was some innocent little doll in need of protecting. But I wasn't. I was a grown woman, with control of her own body and sexuality—for the most part. I could handle myself just fine.

I certainly wasn't no fucking princess. Though I didn't mind the little pet name.

Huffing out a sigh, I cut the engine to my car and unbuckled my seatbelt, grabbing my purse and the little tray of cups and getting out of the car. Anger bubbled deep within my gut again, as it had done when I left Leon’s place—the nerve of that fucking man. I stormed through the lot before I could get myself too worked up to even want to work.

Where one got angry, I told myself as I made my way to the lift, one should use it in their craft. Plus, the amount of songs I’d written because of shitty exes were over the amount of fingers and toes I had. But, at least my fans ate it all up.

Stepping into the lift, I made my first stop at the ground level reception. The reception area of RC Records was peak minimalism—wide and open, with a lot of black leather and white marble. The reception desk itself was a beautiful painted black oak piece, with the company logo emblazoned on the front in neon.

Clearing my throat, I placed the plastic cup containing an iced vanilla latte with soy milk onto the desk, sliding it over toward Ashley. She had been a close friend of mine back in school, and was currently the receptionist for RC Records—as well as the daughter of Warren Graham, who owned Division Records a few blocks from here. We’d split for some time—I'd put my all into acting and music as high school was coming to an end, whilst Ashley had basked in the fruits of her father’s labour.

But, as of late she’d had a quarter life crisis in which she felt like she was being left behind, and so she wanted to learn the ropes of running the industry—starting from the ground up, in a company that her daddy didn't have control over.

At least I got to see one of my best friends every day. Ashley looked up at me as I slid the cup over. “Hey, you,” I grinned, leaning against the desk. “I bring caffeine—but as if you need it, right?”

Ashley grinned, her big blue eyes glinting with glee as she accepted my offering. Taking a long sip through the metal straw, she hummed in delight. Peeking over the desk, I could see her Twitter timeline. As always, Ashley Graham was keeping up on last night’s news on my big wins. I didn't expect anything different from her.

I wonder if I had been seen last night. The thought echoed in the back of my mind. I pondered briefly if maybe that had been another reason why Leon had hurriedly forced me out—the attention that I would bring onto him, as a pop megastar seeing a guy who hasn't had much fame in nearly fourteen years.

Not that the guy was unpopular—just irrelevant in today’s social sphere. This was an incredibly different world than the one Leon had been formed in—the thought of the young, impressionable pop star being seen with the older, wiser rockstar with a wild streak? Shocker.

I had made sure to be careful last night, though. I’d had a decoy of myself that attended every single one of my events with me that had been sent out ahead of time to keep the paparazzi off of my back, which meant that Leon and I were able to sneak through the back without any real hassle. And I hadn't seen any cameras this morning when I was leaving his place—but, like I said, the guy hadn't released any music in nearly fourteen years, other than the occasional anniversary album—

“Hello? Did you hear me?”

I blinked, shaking myself back into the present day. Ashley giggled, sipping from her coffee again as she sat back from waving a hand in front of my face. “Welcome back. Wow, you really did have a long night, huh? Was it fun?”

“Mm,” I hummed casually, taking a sip from my own coffee that I'd brought alongside the others—a frappe, extra foam, with a tiny shot of espresso. Licking my lips of the creamy foam, I murmured, “yeah, very long night, but tons of fun.”

“I saw online that you practically swept every award. Go, Dee,” She chirped, leaning forward and stretching out her palm for a hi-five, which I accepted.

“Gonna need a bigger shelf soon enough. Or maybe build out a whole new wing for this place to show off my success?” I joked, flipping my ponytail with a flourish before picking up the cups and heading back to the lift, tapping my ID card on the way through. “Anyway—duty calls, Ash. Check in later?”

“Yeah, yeah. You go do your thing, I’ll do mine. Guard this desk with my life.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head at her enthusiasm. “Maybe don't go that far, but, yeah. I like the spirit.”

I could have told Ashley about Leon, I realised. But, then again—Ashley was a bit of a gossip, plus her father owned the very label that Dante was under. That would just be an unnecessary headache. And there was hardly anything to tell, anyway. Other than the fact Leon Kennedy was, in fact, a Grade A asshole—but a unforgivably brilliant fuck, which only made me hate him even more in this current moment.

I called the lift again, stepping on and heading up to the sixteenth floor. My floor. Upon joining the label, every artist got their own dedicated floor, as well as their choice of which floor it would be. I had chosen sixteen, as that was my birthday—which was coming up in a matter of weeks. I’d be twenty-seven soon.

Still too young for you, Leon? The cynical thought passed through my mind as the doors opened to the long, wide, stark white-walled hallway, greeted by pictures of my face that had been snapped for magazine covers, album art, or stills from my shows and movies from my time on the Disney Channel.

A little ways to the left was a display shelf full of some of my awards—AMAs, Kids and Teens Choices, and one of the BBMAs that I had won last night. The rest of the awards were decorating the shelves of my penthouse apartment up near the Hills. On the right was another display case, full of art from my fans as well as gifts. Handpicked, and well-looked over before they had the honour of being displayed. I’d heard horror stories of crazed fans, and didn't need reminders of them every time I walked into work.

Boasting a state-of-the-art recording studio, a practice room for rehearsals that was bigger than two New York studio apartments on the Upper West Side, a conference room and a fully stocked kitchen and living space—for when those late nights hit—this floor was my home away from home.

As I pushed my way through the heavy door into the recording studio, I was greeted by my favourite sound tech guy, my producer, and Claire, who was draped across the chaise lounge tapping away on her phone. At my arrival, she looked up at me, giving me one of those ‘you’re late’ smiles as she put her phone away and stood up to greet me.

I thrusted the coffees out in front of me to avoid the oncoming lecture, divvying out the cups to keep myself busy. “Caffeine for my favourite people. Marvin—black coffee. Rebecca—cappuccino. And Claire—espresso.”

The cups were taken with murmured thanks from Marvin and Rebecca and a soft hum from Claire. Continuing on my groove, I put the container and my bag down on the scotch before breezing my way through to the recording booth. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

“Well, we just have one song to work on,” Rebecca, the producer, answered.

“Title track?” I asked, grabbing the over-ear headphones that hung over the microphone. My new album—‘Short N Sweet’—was slated for a mid-December release, if I could get that title track right. but every recording of ‘Greedy’, an R&B type beat akin to the old Britney era, with lyrics about loving yourself over some asshole who seemed to only want you for one thing, had never quite pleased me.

Even if it sounded good to everyone else, I was a total perfectionist.

“Yep. It's crunch time, Dee. We can only do so many recordings before we have to just go with the one we like the most—December will creep up on us before we know it, and if we wanna maximise these profits, we’ll need—”

[kennedys-lvr]

JUST TO KNOW (YOU'RE ALIVE) — CHAPTER 12 (AO3)

eeeeek the happy reunion i'm so excited! my fave ship coming back together! totally not about to get separated again lol i wouldn't do that..... *ahem*

full chapter here! 🤍

No. No way.

I couldn't believe that she was real, and that she was currently sprinting toward me like an Olympian, screaming my name at the top of my lungs. Shrieking it like an eagle, her arms and legs pumping together as she veered slightly left, then right.

This blur of a woman—a blur of black clothes, pale skin and brown hair flying behind her—who seemed to blend and glitch with the vision of how she looked on our wedding day, when she’d run toward me then. A blur of white, with a wide, teary smile.

I was on the move within a second, my legs heavy at first before they finally found their motion. My heart lodged itself into my throat as it thundered, rapidly fluttering as I propelled forward, my eyes locked on her. Watching her blur from that beautiful woman who ran down the aisle to me three years ago, to someone who was skin and bone.

But, the moment that Dee was finally in my arms again, I knew. I knew exactly who this was, and time instantly stopped for me—for us, freezing us for a moment.

I wrapped my arms so tight around her that I crushed her against me, feeling every single rib and the curve of her spine through her clothes. It made my heart ache, my mind spiralling with thoughts of what had happened to her. Six long months, and she was finally back in my arms.

I buried my face into her neck, breathing her in as I lifted her off of the ground, still squeezing just as tight. She smelled horrible, like disinfectant and sweat, but beneath that she still smelled just like she always did. That faint linen-like smell, the same one that always settled and grounded me whenever I needed it.

I hadn't forgotten that smell, not even for a second. Not during the doubting, the sleepless nights, the long days that blended together. Nothing could make me forget that smell.

Nothing could make me forget her.

Pulling my head back, I looked at her again, soaking her in. Her eyes were flooded with tears, my own vision slightly blurred as I felt warm tears roll down my cheeks, but I didn't care about that right now. My eyes dipped down to those lips, those full, thoroughly addicting lips that curled into a wide smile of relief, her cheeks red and splotchy as her tears fell down them.

“Tell me it's you.” I said, croaking the words out. I needed to hear her voice, that lovely voice that I loved so much and had heard in my head every waking moment of every day for the last six months. I needed to see it come out of her, to see her lips move with the words.

“It's me,” she said with a soft sob, her breath wheezing on every word. She was shaking like a leaf, her eyes wide like saucers as her bottom lip trembled. “Leon, it’s me.”

I slumped with a relief so great that I nearly crumpled to the ground and took her with me. I pressed kiss after kiss to her lips, just to feel them again, desperate and urgent kisses. Every kiss she’d missed over the past six months, as my hands came up to cradle her jaw, my nose nuzzling against her own as my heart all but fell from my chest.

“Baby,” I whined, whimpering the words on a broken sob as he held me tight, once more crushing her to me as my forehead rested against her own. Whatever else was happening around us was something I didn't care about, the world around us fading away. Just for a moment. Just for this.

“I—everyone told me you were gone, to let go. I… I didn't wanna let go. I knew you were still out there, waiting for me. I wasn't about to leave you.”

“I know.” Her hand came up to my jaw, gentle fingers tracing against the stubble and the cuts and bruises, brushing over them like she was wiping away specks of dirt. I leaned into her touch, closing my eyes and letting out a low sigh as I reminded myself once more that this was real. That she was real. “I knew that you would. Every day that passed, all I thought of was you. You, and Selene, and Trixie, and Hunnigan.. our family…”

“I thought of you too. All the time. You never left, baby. Not here,” I tapped two fingers to my temple to signify she had been on my mind, “nor here,” I then pressed my hand to my heart. “You were with me, every step of the way, telling me what to do. Telling me to keep going.”

I couldn't stop myself from kissing her again, pressing another deep, desperate kiss to her lips that, like the rest of my kisses, was filled with six months of longing and waiting. I lost myself in it, basking in the chills that rushed down my spine as she melted against me, leaning into the kiss as much as I did.

Lips parting, tongues touching, hearts racing as one.

Then someone cleared their throat, and Dee and I jumped apart like two teenagers being caught making out.

“Glad to see a happy reunion, but we're in a bit of a time crunch here. Saving the world shit. Make out later.”

I glanced over at the source of the voice. Some punk kid with short cropped brown hair, almost a skinhead. Piercing blue-grey eyes stared daggers at us, one eyebrow arched as he leaned his weight on his hip, a hand placed against it as he frowned. The kind of pose Selene would do when she was tired of me and her mom’s over-the-top PDA.

“Jake.” Sherry muttered, clicking her tongue at him in a sharp tut.

Jake held up his hands in a motion that said ‘I’m just saying’. Dee smiled sheepishly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and licking her lips as she rocked back on her heels, making the introductions. “Leon, this is Jake Muller. Jake, this is Leon, my husband. And also a DSO agent, like Sherry and I.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jake greeted, tone still full of bravado and sarcasm. He tipped his chin up defiantly, eyes flickering with suspicion at me. “I’m guessing you know all about my special blood too?”

“I know a bit.” Though I hadn't had any run-ins with Albert Wesker personally, I had heard of him. I’d seen files on him, and knew of the mission that Dee and Sherry were undertaking. I knew that Jake was Wesker’s kid, and that he was important.

Looking at Jake now, I could definitely see the resemblance. Both he and Wesker had the same kind of frown, and the same eyes—well, kind of. The same look in their eyes. The same shape.

Hopefully Jake didn't share any other similarities with his Daddy Dearest, like his personality or a penchant for evil.

“Cool.” Jake snorted, rolling his eyes. “The whole world knows about me and my deadbeat dad, then.”

This kid was a right ass, huh? I glanced down at Dee, who seemed to be smirking up at me. I frowned in confusion. Just what was she trying to say?

“Leon.” Helena butt into our reunion, diverting my attention away from Jake, Sherry and Dee and back to her, back to the mission at hand. “Leon, we can't let him get away.”

“Let who get away?” Sherry asked, glancing first at Helena then at me.

“Simmons, the National Security Advisor. He’s the guy behind all of this mess. The one responsible for the outbreak in Tall Oaks, for—”

“What?” Sherry blinked in disbelief, first looking at Jake then at Dee, as if either of them had an answer. Then she looked at me and shook her head, her lips drawing into a thin line. “No. That doesn't make sense—we report to Simmons. Dee and I are meant to be meeting him—”

“Meeting him where?” Helena’s voice was gruff, ready for action.

Sherry opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again, shaking her head. I sighed in exasperation—I didn't have time for her stubbornness—and shifted Dee in my arms, shuffling toward Sherry with my brows furrow, my ‘dad’ look firmly in place. If only she knew that I was just trying to help her…

“Sherry, please—”

“Leon—” Dee warned.

“Look out!” Helena called out beside me. I turned to look at her, then followed her line of sight, her finger pointing toward the plane’s engine that was flying straight for us.

Sherry let out a scream, one that cut off into a squeak as Jake grabbed her wrist and tugged her hard out of the way, whilst I did the same with Dee, tucking and rolling just as the engine crashed into something behind us, the heat of the explosion whipping past us.

“Ah—” Dee hissed in pain underneath me, my body pinning hers down onto the concrete like a shield.

My heart lurched as I moved back, giving her room. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I asked, running my hands over her as I checked for broken bones or urgent scrapes to deal with, my eyes blurring together as my frazzled mind tried to play tricks on me.

“I’m fine.” She said, waving a dismissive hand even though she was wheezing again—maybe even still wheezing. “Just a little winded, is all. Tired.”

[kennedys-lvr]

VICES & VIRTUES — CHAPTER 2 (AO3)

okay now the story BEGINS lol. gonna be smut MENTIONED in this chapter. not actual smut. but a retelling of events.

full chapter here! enjoy it!

As I peeled open my eyes, the bright morning sun was streaming directly them through my open blackout curtains—which I almost cursed out, before it occurred to me that I hadn't shut my fucking curtains last night.

My head pounded like a kickdrum, a steady thump-thump that ached behind my eyes as I blinked slowly, my entire body feeling like it was broken and battered. My mouth was drier than a desert, my throat itching for something cold.

Damn. I hadn't had this kind of hangover since the start of my thirties. Usually, I could handle my liquor a whole lot better.

Groaning softly, I turned my head—with arduous effort—to my left, checking the time on the digital clock on the nightstand. Throwing out a hand, I dragged the clock forward to point the little screen toward me, squinting to see the little red number better through the blur of my swimming vision. Eight thirty.

“Fuck…” I uttered to the room, before grimacing at the loudness of my own voice. Grunting again as the ache in the back of my skull grew, my eyebrows quickly furrowed when I noticed that there was a glass of water on my bedside table, alongside a box of aspirin that I was fairly certain belonged permanently in my medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

So how the fuck did it grow legs and walk its way to my bedside table?

A sudden rush of dread flooded my gut, a cold sweat that beaded down my spine and seized every last nerve. Whipping my head to my right—as my body screamed in protest for the sudden movement—I came face-to-face with Dee’s sleeping form splayed out on the other side of my large double bed.

She was on her back, her arms splayed behind her head against the pillow. She wore nothing but my shirt, a faded and well-worn tour t-shirt that Dante had sold during our first major tour in late 1999. As for my current state of undress, I was completely naked, covered only by the duvet spread across my lower region.

I had no fucking clue as to how Dee Hartwell had ended up in bed with me, thanks to my raging hangover. But I could take an extremely fucking educated guess.

“Oh, you've gotta be kidding me..” I muttered, bringing my hands up to my face and scrubbing them over it. At least it can be explained now why my body felt so heavy this morning. It had been a while since I’d last had sex, and since I was getting on in years, I wasn't as spry as I once was. Even though my cock and my mind refused to believe that.

“What have you fucking done, you goddamn idiot—”

Dee stirred beside me, no doubt from my not-so-quiet uttering. She screwed up her face in this downright adorable way that I immediately tore my eyes away from like it was blinding. Her nose scrunched up like a little bunny rabbit, and she let out a soft squeak as she squeezed her eyes tighter shut before opening them with a flutter.

Blinking herself awake, she seemed to take a moment or two to register what was going on before she let out a soft, sleepy yawn. She then reached for me, the grin growing on her lips. “Hi.”

I froze as she curled herself into me, hooking a soft, smooth leg over my waist as her fingers brushed delicately across my bare chest, sending shockwaves of sparks along my veins and making me hiss like a vampire caught out in the sun. She then tugged herself closer, wrapping both arms around one of mine and nuzzling into my neck, pressing soft kisses against my rapidly pounding pulse as I found myself growing hard from that one little movement.

I knew that I should be pulling away, but I couldn't. I was completely stuck. My brain might not remember what had happened last night, but my body certainly did. “Hey..” I mumbled back, swallowing thickly as I fumbled over my next words. “So, uh…”

Dee pulled back with a giggle, looking all too angelic in the morning light. Which made me feel even more dread about wanting to know just what went down between us last night. “You have no clue what you did last night, do you?”

“Yeah,” I chuckled nervously, forcing a smile. “Sorry.”

“Would you like me to fill you in?”

“Please.”

She hummed, a sweet little sound as she brought her head back down to rest against my chest. Subconsciously, my arm wrapped around her back. I quickly tried to remove it, but my hand only dug in tighter to her hip, that little lust-addled part of my brain refusing to cooperate with me. Goddamn it.

“Well, I ended up winning ‘Viral Hit’ last night, and after the show, you stopped me as everyone was filing out of the arena to congratulate me.”

I closed my eyes as Dee spoke, trying to picture that moment—trying to remember. In the haze of my memories, I found it. I found us, in that busy crowd, and the surge of drunken confidence that had flooded me when I had decided to stop her after the show. Enthralled by that moment on the rooftop, not wanting to let her go.

The words I had said to her were on the tip of my tongue even as Dee repeated them back to me in the present day.

“You wanna go celebrate?”

“I’m guessing you said yes, seeing as you’re currently here?” I asked, chuckling softly. My fingers twitched, brushing a delicate pattern against her hip as I opened an eye, looking up at the ceiling with a sheepish expression.

“Mhm.” She nodded with a tight-lipped smile and a bashful giggle as she pulled her head back to look at me. “At first I didn't know what to say, but then I just went along with it. I had a feeling I knew what was gonna happen, anyway. We went through the back, where my driver had been waiting. Originally, we would have gone back to my place, but I’d asked where you lived, so that’s why we’re in your bed.”

I grunted, the scene in my head shifting to the darkened backseat of a fancy SUV. Wide leather seats filled my vision, and the smell of a freshly cleaned car tickled my nostrils. I remembered the tinted partition that was between the driver's side and the backseat, and the tap-tap of Dee’s fist gently knocking against the glass as she had changed our route.

“Then, once we started heading for your place, we started making out.”

Both of my eyes snapped open, a warmth spreading across my lips as if that kiss were happening all over again. Every inch of me buzzed with a phantom sensation as I could taste the faint note of cherry and saliva on my tongue. Fuck. “Did I start it?”

“Mhm. Barely let me finish thanking my driver before you pulled me back. Nearly pulled my damn arm from the socket,” She giggled, clearly not at all fazed by the sight of me silently freaking out. She patted my chest gently, tracing against the faded collarbone tattoos I had. “It was hot though. That’s why I gave you that blowjob.”

The casual admission to such a depraved act had my cock throbbing beneath the sheet, both from the memory of those lips as well as with hope that it might happen again. Dread began to churn in my gut again, making me feel slightly ill as I could very vaguely remember that rush of adrenaline that passed through me as she dragged her lips down my skin; the tangle of my fingers through her hair as I'd wrapped that ponytail around my fist.

She’d taken her hair out of that ponytail at some point, I realised, as I gazed at the way her hair fell now in bedraggled waves. My fingers itched to run through it again, to feel that silky smoothness all over again. I grunted and shook my head, pushing that urge away.

Dee’s dark forest-like eyes sparkled, as if she were currently enjoying the torment that she was currently putting me through with a retelling of last night's events. She even licked her lips, the image making me remember the way she had licked them after she’d gone down on me so brazenly. The sight of my cum dripping from those glossy lips had been addictive, and I hadn't been able to resist swiping my thumb across them. Even now, my thumb wanted to trace that full shape again.

“Following that, when we got back here, that’s when the real fun began,” Dee purred, her grin wicked. “We were… everywhere.”

“Everywhere?”

“Yep. Taking the lift up here, you were ripping my dress off—or, well, you tried to.” She winked teasingly. “You had me in your kitchen, where you used your tongue. On the back of your couch, you used your fingers. When we got to your bed, I rode you—that’s why I’m wearing the shirt, because you wanted to see how I’d look riding your cock wearing your band’s shirt like your favourite little groupie.”

She nodded her head down to the shirt currently covering what I hazily remembered to be a curvy little figure—a body built by a goddess. “Your words, by the way, not mine.”

Of course. “That does sound like me,” I nervously laughed, hoping that that was the worst of it, and that she wasn't about to spring anymore surprises onto me. “So… we went about…?”

[kennedys-lvr]

JUST TO KNOW (YOU'RE ALIVE) — CHAPTER 11 (AO3)

part two of what would have been a 14k word chapter lol. adding more of that sweet sweet foreshadowing heheheh... but also the end of this chapter is smth i was sooo excited to write for literal months lol

full chapter here 🤍

When I woke up again, it was to a blaring alarm. My room had gone dark, the burning white lights gone and replaced with flashing red lights, and something being said in Mandarin. I groaned, my head and neck sore as I slowly sat up. Blinking, it took me a moment to realise that my shackles had been released—the automatic lock on them gone, probably thanks to whoever tripped the alarm.

I stumbled around on unsteady feet, nausea gnawing at my gut as I felt like I had been dumped in a pool full of sweat. My first thought was dehydration, lack of proper water and food whilst I had spent God knows how long being a lab rat for Neo Umbrella. Forcing a deep breath into my lungs to stave off whatever was happening to me, I willed myself to keep moving.

Jake and Sherry had to be here too. They could be hurt. Or worse. I needed to find them. We needed to get out of here.

“Come on, body. Move.” I grunted, pushing myself out of the door and into the blinding white hallway. I winced against the fluorescents, the sterile white walls, floor and furniture making my eyes hurt. But, as much as it hurt to look at it, the single colour scheme made it easier to see the bodies that littered the floor, splatters of crimson acting as an accent colour to the blank slate.

I bent over one of the bodies, grabbing his machine gun that was strapped to his back as well as searching his pockets for some bullets. I came up with two full magazines, changing out one and stuffing the others into the waistband of my panties—thankfully, I was allowed to keep them on.

Once I’d armed myself, I continued down the hallway, my feet slapping against the cold floor as I wondered who had killed all these guards. I smiled at the thought that perhaps Jake and Sherry had made it out of where they were being held, and were just waiting for me to catch up.

“Don't worry,” I whispered to myself, willing them to hear me—wherever they were around here. “I’m on my way—”

Nausea gurgled in my gut again, a sudden dizziness rushing over me that had me reaching out for the wall for support as my knees threatened to buckle.

“Not now,” I whispered, gritting my teeth against the agonising war being raged inside of my body as I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat. Squeezing my eyes shut and breathing through my churning gut, I thought back as far as I could, trying to figure out the last thing I could coherently remember that might explain why I’m being knocked back for six.

Carla. That blindingly white room. Strapped down onto the metal table. That syringe—a sedative, maybe?

My eyes widened as I brought my fingers to my neck, grazing them against the injection site. My pulse raced, throbbing beneath my fingers as a lump grew in my throat. A million worst-case scenarios flickered through my head all at once. But one was standing out amongst the rest.

Another virus shot? I’m inoculated, you know. Against most known Umbrella viruses. Comes with the job title.

That was what I’d been going through since I’d been at this facility—being injected with whatever virus they had on file, trying to see which one would take and hold, and turn me. None of them had. Working within the federal government—with my main job descriptor being ‘deals with bioweapons’, yearly inoculations were pretty mandatory. I had inoculations against all current known viruses and diseases that these companies had a hand in.

All except for one.

“No,” I sternly told myself, pushing myself back into an upright position and moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other and following the trail of bodies and blood. “No. You’re fine. You’re going to be just fine.”

It couldn't be what I was thinking it was. If that was the case, surely by now I would have turned.

Voices echoed down the hallway, and I braced myself ready for a fight, aiming down the sights of the machine gun as I slowed my footsteps to a slight crouch-walk. But then, as I got closer, the voices became more familiar. I gasped, rushing toward the voices and heading into a locker room, causing Jake and Sherry to jump out of their skin before they relaxed.

“Dee. You're alive,” Sherry spoke first, her voice wobbly as she pulled me into a tight embrace. She looked a mess, her blue eyes shrink-wrapped with tears as she buried her face against my chest. I grimaced a little bit, knowing I definitely smelled like shit, and Sherry was breathing that in.

“That I am,” I said breathlessly, patting her back gently as relief rushed over me. We were reunited, so we could finally get out of here. Sherry shuddered from my touch, her body trembling beneath the thin, too-tight medical gown—the same one that I was wearing.

“You look like shit,” Jake greeted me with his usual sarcasm, before he cleared his throat and added, “uh, no offence.”

I smirked. I’d missed the sound of their voices, their personalities, and was glad to see that captivity hadn't changed them. My eyebrows rose playfully, feigning offence to Jake’s quip. “Gee, thanks, Jake. I’ve missed that charming personality of yours.”

Jake smothered his smirk, rubbing the back of his cropped short hair as he quickly averted his eyes. I soon saw why—Sherry and I were pretty much naked under these gowns. Jake, at least, had pants.

Clearing his throat, Jake motioned to the lockers nearby. “Let’s get some clothes and get out of here, shall we?”

I sighed in relief at the thought of proper clothes. “Agreed.”

Taking the locker on the far right, I prayed that it was not only unlocked, but also had something inside of it. After pulling at the handle with a gentle tug, the door swung open for me. Score. Reaching inside, I snagged myself a black turtleneck and some matching cargo pants, as well as an ankle holster that paired nicely with the shiny black magnum that was also in the locker.

“I wonder who these lockers belong to,” I said, mostly to myself as I stripped off the medical gown and pulled the turtleneck over my head, glad to be wearing proper clothes and had some proper coverage.

“No idea,” Sherry shrugged, dropping her own gown and pulling on her newly acquired dress shirt. “Maybe the staff here?”

“Maybe,” Jake added, glancing briefly at Sherry for a split second before he seemed to realise she was partially naked. His cheeks pinkened and he cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head. “But, they thankfully left some weapons behind.”

Sherry and Jake finished changing—Sherry in a white blouse and cream cargo pants, a light blue scarf completing the look, and Jake wearing a black long sleeved Henley and matching cargo pants. They armed themselves with their own holsters and weapons, whilst I rooted around in my locker for a hair-tie and hopefully a brush. I grinned when I found one, grateful to run the bristles through my knotted hair and put it up into a ponytail.

“So—either of you know where we are? Or how long we’ve been here?” Sherry asked, messing with her own hair to make it look less haphazard.

“China.” I answered, remembering snippets of my conversation with Carla—which I kept to myself, mainly because I hadn't gotten a timeframe for how long we had been here. The days had seemingly blended into one another, and it was unfortunate that there were no windows in this place—nothing to give me an idea of what was day and what was night.

“China?”

“Mhm. A Neo-Umbrella medical facility.”

“That explains all the experiments,” Jake sighed, rolling his neck around with a low grunt.

Sherry turned to face him with a small pout. “What did they do to you?”

“They said they were using the antibodies in my blood to enhance the C-Virus. And also… they kept talking more about Albert Wesker, saying all these things…”

Jake paused, trailing off as he hit us with a look. A hurt look—eyes filled with confusion and betrayal in the fact that we had hidden this from him. Sherry and I shared a nervous glance, knowing the words that were about to come.

“Were the two of you ever going to tell me? Or were you just gonna keep me in the dark?”

“Jake—” Sherry began, but Jake held up a hand to stop her.

“You both knew all about my dad—hell, it seemed everyone knew about him, except for me!” He slammed the locker shut after grabbing the combat boots from it, the sound echoing around the room as the metal door rattled on its hinges. “I always thought he was just a deadbeat, but, no. He was a freaking nutjob hellbent on destroying the world, and I’m carrying his fucking genes!”

Sherry and I stayed quiet, not knowing what to say as Jake continued his ranting. He muttered to himself, his voice bitter and angry as he shoved his feet into the boots and laced them tight. “That… that man. He left me and my mother to fend for ourselves. I became a mercenary because we never had enough to eat, did things no fucking kid should be doing. All because of that monster, and I—I’m gonna turn out just like him, aren't I?”

“No, Jake. That’s not true. You aren't gonna become like him,” I did my best to reassure him, my voice weak and nervous. This conversation was awkward—but it needed to be had. “You’re nothing like Wesker. You’re—”

Jake whirled around on me, blue eyes like ice that cut into my heart and made me shudder from the chill. “I’m what?”

I swallowed, fighting the pitch of my voice. “You’re a good person. Sure, you’re mixed up in some bad shit, and you’re seriously pretentious and a bit of an asshole—”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence—”

[kennedys-lvr]

VICES & VIRTUES — A ROCKSTAR!LEON FIC — CHAPTER 1 (AO3)

EEEEEEEE I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS. the fic is still in the process of being written (because i love giving myself stress in writing chapters lol) ((but i have thirteen written so far so we ok for another six weeks)) but i am CONFIDENT its gonna be good. or maybe im just obsessed with rockstar!leon

forewarning: this fic has... little to no plot. unless u count secret relationship stuff? i put way too much smut in here lol. not until around... like chapter 5 or 6 is a legit scene but some scenes mention smut taking place lol. so if that's not ur thing then feel free not to read this one. when i eventually finish this fic im doing a high schooler leon au which will be rivals to friends to lovers vibe hehe

full chapter here! 🤍 enjoy!

also i was gonna do fake social media posts for each chapter but seeing at that flopped with my promo post i decided not to do it anymore rip.

snippet below!

The first thing I that noticed about Dee Hartwell was her eyes.

They were a dark green color, with hints of brown. Like a forest, thick and dense with trees that were rich with leaves. The thick black eyelashes that framed her eyes reminded me of blackbird wings, and the shimmering smokey eye makeup she had on reminded me of the night sky back in my tiny little East Coastal hometown, that had always been so full of stars in the sky once the sun went down.

Then, when that mouth of hers opened—pretty, pink, full lips that held my rapt attention—the voice that came out was dainty and soft, with a very distinct British lilt to it. I squinted, tilting my head slightly as I pursed my lips in thought, trying to figure out what kind of accent that was. I'd toured in the UK before, so I was pretty in tune with the many accents there.

I was barely even listening to the words coming out of that mouth. “My God, I was not expecting this award at all.” A total lie, I thought. Of course she was. She wouldn't have put on that pretty little sheer dress of hers and dolled herself up if she wasn't expecting to be showered in praise tonight. All planned by her label, no doubt.

Because that was what all of these award shows were, after all. They say that they’re ‘chosen by fans’, but really, it was a team of executives on a super exclusive board that decided who won the awards and who lost them. Because in this grand old age of music, that was what popularity had become—marketability.

Never about the fans, but the investors that got their pockets lined by the artists that gave them their blood, sweat and tears.

Back in the day, music used to be good. Music used to be about having fun—it used to just be about the music, and the glory. But nowadays, in the social media age, it was all about going viral. Marketing your music toward a brain-rotted TikTok crowd who only ever listened to music in thirty-second intervals accompanied alongside shitty little dancing videos or—

Look at me, getting cynical in my old age. Not that forty-seven was necessarily old, right? I also owed the band’s appearance at the Billboard Music Awards tonight to the TikTok crowd, as much as I didn't want to admit it—had one of our songs not gone viral a few months ago, people wouldn't have thought us eligible for the ‘Viral Hit’ category.

The only category we’re slated for tonight. Alongside that opening performance of the title track from the twentieth anniversary release of our debut album.

Rolling my eyes and shaking my head with a rueful sigh, I tuned back into the speech. In the massive television screen that projected Dee Hartwell’s face to the tens of thousands of people here tonight, as well as to the billions streaming at home, those dark eyes of hers had gone glassy with tears. A part of me wondered if that emotion was genuine or not.

See, a lot of these pop princesses always seemed so fake nowadays. With their purposefully high voices and demure smiles. Or even those perfectly innocent eyes they put on as they sang about sex in the most depraved way possible—kind of like the sort of music Dee put out.

Not that I listened to bubblegum pop garbage. There weren't enough loud guitars for my taste.

“My dear Delights, thank you so much for all of the streams and the love on ‘Espresso’!” The gushing girl pressed a hand to her chest, gasping and showing the award off to the adoring crowd that cheered her name. She grinned wide at the reaction, perfect teeth sparkling underneath the stage lights.

“This award, just like every award I win, is always for you. And, of course, thank you to my label—RC Records, to Albert and Alex and to my amazing manager, Claire,” she flashed a cheeky little wink to the crowd, and the camera briefly panned to her table, where a red-haired woman flushed red and hid her face.

I snorted softly at the sight despite myself, as the camera quickly moved back to the girl of the hour. “To each and every person on my team who puts up with my hot messes—as well as just my messes,” she laughed, the sound causing ripples of cheering to reverberate around the arena, from both fans and other artists in attendance here alike. Even my own band was cheering, caught up in the energy despite ourselves.

She certainly was a princess who knew how to light up a room.

However, I eventually tuned out the rest of the speech, leaning back in this uncomfortable plastic chair and throwing back the rest of my whiskey. At least that was a plus side to these award shows—free booze for the artists, whether you win or not.

When the princess went to sit back down after her speech, the chipper host of the evening announced that there would be a short break before ‘more amazing performances by…’ artists I could care less about right now. The cameras then cut for commercials.

The show’s runners moved through the tables on the floor level, telling us artists that we were free to move if we wished to. We could get a top-up of our drinks at the bar, grab some food from the nearby buffet, and have free reign on the floor.

The same treatment was given to the stands too—except, fans were shepherded about by security, no doubt to prevent potential mobbing incidents.

Clearing my throat, I looked around at my fellow bandmates—Chris, Luis, and Jake. Picking up my empty glass, I slowly rose out of my chair, feeling every joint pop in a very mortifying reminder of just how old I was getting. “I’m gonna get a top-up,” I grumbled tiredly. “You guys want anything?”

“Nah, we’re good, man,” Chris, our drummer, answered. His smile was wide, and telling of the three glasses of scotch he’d had already, if the sparkle within his dark green eyes weren't another indication of how drunk he currently was. I’d known Chris Redfield since high school—he had been the cooler senior that had convinced junior me to pair up with him in 1995.

After a few jam sessions, the rest was history—and Dante was set in motion.

“Yeah,” Jake, our bassist, added, rubbing his shaved head as he typed away on his phone, more than likely texting his girlfriend. Jake Muller had also been dragged into our little troupe by Chris, a few days into Dante’s inception when we realised we would definitely need a bassist. He was currently dating some young fashion designer—Sherry Birkin, former child actress turned independent fashion house entrepreneur.

Supposedly, Jake had been her muse, and the kid fell for it hook, line and sinker. They had a rather big age-gap—he was around my age, and she was in her mid-twenties. But, if Jake was happy, then I was happy for him.

Happy band, happy life, right?

Personally, I would never date someone younger than me. Nor would I ever date anybody famous—not again anyway. I did that once. Never again.

I turned to look at Luis, our rhythm guitarist. Luis Serra was someone that I had picked—a Spanish exchange student that I had hit it off with in fifth period music classes on Wednesdays. He’d had star quality oozing out of him even back then, and had every single girl—and some of the guys too—melting over him for his smooth fingers.

And the guitar playing, of course. But Luis always accredited his popularity to his fingers. Which, thinking about it, probably explained why he got the most pussy back in the day—as well as myself, of course.

What was that saying about guitarists and fingering? Luis claimed he once coined that little phrase. Luis was a cocky little shit. But then again, so was I—sometimes. “Luis?” I snapped my fingers in the direction of our guitarist. “Drink?”

Luis tore his attention away from the group of women currently walking by our table—young pop princesses or friends of pop princesses, momentarily caught up in the hot tatted rockstar currently winking at them as they made their way toward the bar. “Mm? Oh, yeah. I could do with a refresher.” Luis rose out of his seat a little too eagerly, grabbing his empty glass. “Let's go, Sancho.”

“Sancho?” I snorted, giving him a friendly punch in the arm. This had been a little inside joke between us back in high school, carried all the way to now. Luis punched me back, and the two laughed about it as we made their way over to the bar, which looked like it was ripped straight off of an Instagram influencer’s Pinterest board.

Pine wood, chalk, fairy lights and faux ivy. Christ.

Approaching the bar, we nudged our way through the crowd up to the front. I whistled for the attention of the bartender, who looked as if he should be home studying for his finals rather than serving drinks at a prestigious music event—if you could call this whole sham ‘prestigious’. He had perfectly gelled black hair, baby-smooth skin, and not a wrinkle nor eyepatch in sight—unlike the bartenders that I was so used to seeing.

Christ. Fucking celebrities.

[kennedys-lvr]

eeee! so buzzed to have written this with u, renny! 🤍 cee and dee need more badass adventures soon!

Alibi

Chapter 6: Campane nuziali

And here's the final chapter of Alibi by me and @kennedys-lvr. I hope you all enjoy this collab. I am honored to be working alongside with Dee and I am truly grateful for her!

Thank you and stay tuned for Dee's next surprise :3

“It’s a work of art. You made us all look good.” Claire mused. “You have a talent in getting rid of perpetual eyebags.”

 

“Years of practice.” Cee chuckled, as the other women laughed. There was a lightness in Cee’s chest as she watched these ladies paw and fawn over Dee, who was trembling with nerves as she lapped it all up. 

 

Who would have thought that, within a matter of weeks, Cee would go from having few female friends to having a whole bunch of them? Certainly not her. But Cee was all too happy to accept it. She’s quite glad to finally have a group that had her back, as she would have theirs.

 

Dee let out a nervous titter, swallowing. “Mm.” She hummed, trying to keep the nausea that was trying to push its way up her throat at bay. “Does anyone else feel like the room’s spinning right now?”

 

Claire glanced over at the women, who quickly cleared a space to allow Dee to sit down. Hunnigan reached into her purse for a bottle of water, whilst Claire produced a paper fan from hers, unfurling it and giving Dee a little bit of a breeze as she tilted her head back.

 

“Dee?” She questioned gently. “Babe, talk to us. Tell us what you need. What’s wrong?”

P.S.: I'm doing this on my phone while uploading 💜

[kennedys-lvr]

JUST TO KNOW (YOU'RE ALIVE) — CHAPTER 10 (AO3)

hehe fluffy wedding chapter that has a bit of drama in this snippet, and then the full chapter itself has a cliffhanger. the original chapter was gonna be 14k words (girlboss) but i chopped it down to be under 10k, a two parter if you will. next chapter will be 5k. lol my word counts r so all over the place.

full chapter here! 🤍 enjoy!

25th September 2010 — Washington, D.C

Three Years Ago

I dragged my heels across the laminate flooring of the hotel ballroom, making my way over to the head table. My lungs were burning and my throat was sore from scream-singing ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA with Claire, who had made a request for that song because she knew it was one of my favourites. She’d held me hostage with it, not allowing me to leave the dancefloor until the song was over.

But I was having the time of my life. Even more so when I approached the man sitting stretched out in the dining chair, long legs spread out as his arms opened wide to accept me. His blazer was slung across the back of his chair, the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt rolled up to expose the coarse arm hair.

With a lazy grin on his face, Leon pulls me into his lap. I hummed, burying my face into his neck where I was greeted by the pungent aroma of sweat mixed in with his citrusy cologne, as well as the low thrum of warmth in my gut as I remembered what we’d done in the cloak room just half an hour ago.

Neither of us could wait to get back to the room. Thankfully, the cloak room remained uninterrupted for the ten minutes that we’d needed it for.

“There’s my dancing queen,” Leon crooned, nuzzling his cheek against the top of my head. He then presses his nose against my head and I hear his soft inhale, before the low groan of what sounds like pleasure. I was sure I smelled just as sweaty as he did—even more, considering the amount of dancing I’d been doing. “Having fun?”

“Yeah. Lots.” I said, extracting myself from him just enough to reach for my glass of wine that Leon had been looking after. I brought the crystal glass to my lips, taking a few big gulps as if I were a little kid inhaling juice during a party. The fermented grape taste was sour against my precious taste buds and I pulled a face, which made Leon snort softly.

“Slow down there, baby. I don't wanna have to carry you up to the room later. Or clean up your vomit.” He winked.

I played along, raising my eyebrows at him in challenge. “Going back on your vows already, Mr Kennedy? You promised to love me in sickness and in health,” I said pointedly, feigning offence.

“And I will, but if I’m gonna be taking care of you whilst drunk, that’s gonna be a pain in the ass,” he chuckled, pinching my sides to make me squirm and giggle. His eyes twinkled beneath the lights of our wedding reception, the disco ball and soft spotlights working in tandem tonight.

“Though, you are my favorite pain in the ass…”

“That’s a wonderful way to talk about your wife.”

“Oh? How would you prefer to be spoken of, then?”

“Mm…” I paused, tapping my chin playfully. The mischief in his eyes, the teasing grin on his lips, and the way his hand brushed slowly against my side through the lace of my dress all culminated in a flutter of butterflies in my stomach as it once again dawned on me—as it has multiple times tonight—that this gorgeous man was my husband. And I was his wife.

I chuckled softly to myself as a memory flitted through my mind like an old film reel. That night in the police cruiser when we were approaching Valdelobos—when the cop had thought we were newlyweds, and I had once withered and cringed at the thought of marrying Leon. And here I was now, all those years later, wearing a precious little ring that the man I had once sworn never to mix with had given me.

“Well?” Leon prompted in that low, husky tone, drawing me out of my thoughts with a gentle tickle on my side.

I rolled my lips together, flashing him a mischievous look of my own. “Seduce me.”

A dimple appeared in Leon’s cheek as he shook his head playfully. “I'd say I already did plenty of that. I mean, look where we are. Look what you’re wearing,” he lifted the hand with my ring, kissing my knuckles delicately before rubbing his cheek against them, his stubble tickling me. he then winked as he continued crudely, “look what we did around half an hour ago, and what I plan to do to you once this party’s all partied out.”

“Oh? Twice in one night? I’m a lucky woman.”

“Only the best for Mrs Kennedy. Whatever she wants, she gets.”

“You spoil me.”

“You deserve to be spoiled. You deserve everything.” Leon said proudly, before his voice dropped in tone, becoming serious and a little weighty with emotion. “And I wanna give you everything. Everything I have, everything I am, is yours.”

Those words were sweet, and most definitely swoonworthy. Words I’d heard so many times before, yet they always gave me that refreshing rush of adoration and bashfulness. I had never known Leon to be the kind of guy to give out so many compliments—he had always been so stoic and serious, and his compliments had once made me feel like I was being put under a performance review.

But, ever since we officially got together four years ago, after that dinner in Michele’s—the morning after, where he’d fed my cat and got me flowers and breakfast—he had been nothing but complimentary.

And I wouldn't change that for the world.

When his nose slowly brushes and bumps against mine in that familiar way that triggers a warm shudder to pass down my spine, it felt as if we were the only two people in the room. And, when we kissed—slowly, gently, his hands gripping my hips as he tugged me as close as I could possibly get with him sat in this chair that was starting to creak and groan in protest beneath the added weight—it was like we were in our own little bubble, floating high above everyone else.

Him and I. Me and him. He was the only person to me that mattered in this moment—in every moment, now and forever. And I was that person for him.

A familiar beat made my ears perk up, as I broke the kiss to turn my head toward the speakers, where the iconic intro to ‘Footloose’ by Kenny Loggins echoed throughout the hall. A slow grin pulled across my lips as I knew that Leon wouldn't be able to resist dancing to this song—we’d planned to dance to it at our wedding way before he had even proposed, during one of our movie night shenanigans that involved too much booze and Leon trying to outdance Kevin Bacon because he thought it would impress me.

Leon had ended up falling flat on his ass. It was one of my favourite nights to remember.

I looked over at Leon with a playful glint in my eye, climbing off of his lap and pulling him up with all of my strength. “Come on, Mr Kennedy. You are overdue some dancefloor time.”

Leon rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically, yet he still allowed himself to be pulled up and tugged in the direction of the dancefloor. “I would have gotten up eventually, I just wanted a rest.”

I snorted, already starting to tap my foot to the beat and twist my hips before we’d even properly got onto the floor. “A rest from what?”

“Well, I don't know if you can remember after all of those red wines you've been drinking all night, but—” Leon cut off his sentence abruptly as his eyes seemed to be focusing elsewhere. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips curled downward, body going taut for a moment as he uttered softly, “wait—what is she doing here?”

“Who?” I asked, turning my head to find who Leon was looking for.

It didn't take me too long to find her. She lingered near the door, wearing an enviously gorgeous floor length red evening gown. Her black bob sat with elegant curls on the ends that sat on her shoulders, the dramatic smokey eye accentuating the piercing honey coloured eyes that looked directly past me and at my husband, before Ada then slipped out of the room.

“Why is Ada—” I turned my head back to face Leon, who was letting go of me and was on the move in seconds. My jaw dropped, a slight scoff of surprise and irritation leaving me as I watched him follow her trail, pushing through the crowded dance floor in pursuit of her. “Wait, Leon! Where are you—”

“Just give me a minute!” He called back over the music, leaving me standing in the middle of the dance floor, my face a picture of shock and confusion as all around me, our closest friends and confidants danced their asses off to Kenny fucking Loggins.

My husband had just walked out of the door to follow another woman—a woman that he’d had history with since Raccoon City—and I, his wife, was left standing here looking like a complete and utter idiot.

[kennedys-lvr]

TENNESSEE WHISKEY, STRAWBERRY WINE — FINAL CHAPTER (AO3)

my goodness! how far we've come! forty-five chapters, so many ups and downs, so much smut (an ungodly amount, unholy as anything but still so fun to write) and we're here! i wanna thank all of you lovely people for following me thus far, for keeping up with the journey, for loving this world as much as i loved making it! i promise that i will come back eventually to this series. i have more couples to have fall in love, and whilst i may be leaving the valley, i'll be coming right back soon enough. just lemme cook with some new aus first.

for the last time for this fic... read the full chapter here 🤍

“Claire,” I smirk as she prods me with another pin, pulling and tugging at the lace skirt of my dress. “I’m not your pincushion.”

“I'm not treating you like a pincushion,” she rolls her eyes playfully, before promptly sticking me again. “You're just fidgeting too much.”

“I’m not fidgeting,” I mutter back with a small grin, resting a hand on my stomach. I feel a soft flutter of butterflies, the grin growing as I stare down at that tiny little bump in the fabric of my lace wedding dress. “I'm carrying precious cargo—and trying to protect it from your little stabbing session.”

It felt so strange to say those words. It felt even stranger to wake up every day remembering that day when I found out about my little bean—our little bean, mine and Leon’s little bean.

We found out a little while after Leon proposed a second time—I had been out getting brunch with Claire and Ashley at Mira’s, when what I thought to be the flu hit me with a bout of nausea that just barely managed to escape coming out onto my stack of pancakes. It was Claire that brought up the idea that I might be pregnant, and after we brought about a million Clearblues at the local pharmacy, I saw that little pink plus sign in the bathroom of Mira’s. Again, and again, and again.

Leon reacted how I expected him to—with absolute shock. I was nervous to tell him—we were going to get married, and then have the kids. That had been our plan, but it seemed that me forgetting to take my birth control on the day of that competition two months ago thwarted all of that. But then Leon had smiled really big, hugged me really tight, and promptly moved himself into the main house.

And that's where I am right now—standing in our bedroom, which is still my childhood bedroom, staring into the mirror as Claire helps me get ready for me to walk down the aisle to the man of my dreams. It’s the middle of February—Valentine’s Day, the most fitting of all days for a wedding, and perhaps the most cliche, but I didn't care. I was too busy trying not to burst into tears as I soak in my reflection.

I didn't want a big, fancy wedding dress. I chose a dress that still goes down to my feet, but the skirt isn't puffy like a princess—it's simple and lowkey. Most of the dress is made of lace, with a sweetheart neckline and chiffon sleeves. Claire’s friendship necklace shimmers silver around my neck, and the ring that Leon gave me shimmers gold on my finger, diamonds twinkling in the early afternoon sun.

“Your precious cargo can't feel my pins, Dee.” Claire giggles, but she thankfully stops with the pins. She's satisfied with the final cut of my dress, and I'm satisfied too—I look pretty good. I look happy enough. I look radiant, I think. Am I glowing yet?

Claire moves onto messing with my hair next, which is pulled into an elegant-enough bun and held with a white claw clip. I don't have a veil, but Rome came up with the idea of putting wildflowers in my hair, just like that day at the stream. So that’s what Claire’s currently doing—picking up the white wildflowers that sat spread out on the dresser that Rome had gone out to pick yesterday, and threading them into my hair.

“You getting cold feet yet?” Claire teases with a smug smirk. I shiver at the feeling of the stems of wildflowers brushing through my hair and up against the tips of my ears, sucking in a nervous breath as a wave of nausea washes over me. 

I wasn't sure whether this was morning sickness or wedding jitters. I put it down as a mixture of both.

“Nope. My feet are toasty right now.” And sore. My bachelorette party—if one could call it that—consisted of me, Claire and Ashley tearing up the dancefloor at the Hay Barn to hits from the seventies, giggling our heads off to the likes of ABBA, Stevie Wonder and Aretha Franklin and getting buzzed on mocktails.

“Good to know. How are the heels, though? Not too tight?”

My heels are a little tight, but I’m not gonna tell her that. It won't matter anyway. Once we get to the edge of that forest, once I see my man waiting for me at the end of that aisle, these heels are coming right off.

“They're fine, Claire.” I reassure her, seeing that look of worry start to cloud her features. “Everything is fine. Thanks to you.”

As my maid of honor, she’s really putting herself out with all of this wedding planning. But I am so glad that she's here for me, and that she has been here since day one. I don't know what I’d do without her.

She blows out a breath, nodding slowly as my words sink in. She smiles tearfully, which makes a lump burn in my throat as I feel like crying myself. And I can't cry—Claire will kill me for ruining the hours of makeup she's put in.

She places her hands on my shoulders, brushing the soft pads of her thumbs across my skin. “Everything's fine,” she echoes, smiling nervously at first, but it soon becomes a real smile. “We’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna get you down that aisle. You're gonna marry that handsome ranch hand of yours. You’re gonna love that kid. And love this kid.” 

She takes a hand from my shoulder to place it on my bump, and that nervous flutter starts up again. I didn't know much about pregnancy at the four month mark—other than the fact that the little bean wasn't as much a bean as it was an avocado, which is making me crave avocado. I don't even like avocados.

But I like to imagine that the nervous flutter was the baby being restless, wanting to get this show on the road already. I swallow thickly, letting out a slow exhale as I nod tearfully. “Yeah. I’m gonna get down that aisle. I’m gonna marry my handsome ranch hand. I'm gonna love my kids—both of them—”

Before I can get the rest of my mantra out, the bedroom door bursts open and the little blur in a black tuxedo known as Roman Kennedy comes rushing in, black hair bouncing around his head as his grin splits his whole face.

“Mama Dee!”

It pinches my heart whenever he calls me that. I’m not his mother. But I am going to be soon enough.

It was around two months ago that Ada dropped off Rome to the ranch with an overnight bag. We assumed he was here for just the weekend, but then come Monday, Ada never picked him back up. We later came to find out that she moved out of Cotulla and across the state to Dallas, chasing the career ladder.

Explaining to this sweet little six-year-old boy that his mom wasn't coming back was the worst thing Leon had ever done. Rome had been inconsolable, and cried into my lap for most of the night until he passed out in bed with me and Leon, who cried for him after he’d fallen asleep.

Then, the next morning, Leon filed for full custody. We got it handed to us pretty easily when Ada never turned up to court. Though it meant that Leon had Rome forever now, it’s still bittersweet—he thought that he and Ada had turned a corner in their relationship, and could actually co-parent. And for her to suddenly do this reminded him of the divorce all over again.

Rome has adjusted pretty well to the ranch. He currently resides in Danny’s bedroom, and Danny has moved up to the loft. He and Dad have plans to properly move out soon, though—they put an offer on a farmhouse near their cattle ranch, and it's currently being renovated. I told them they didn't need to—the ranch would have plenty of space for both of them still—but they insisted upon it.

The ranch is officially in mine and Leon’s name, and the house is for our growing family. Once Dad moves out in the next couple of months, and once the little avocado arrives, there will only be one more bedroom to fill.

I can't wait for that day.

[kennedys-lvr]

COMING SOON!

“She was his vice, and his virtue."

when former Disney Channel star turned pop princess Dee Hartwell meets nineties rock icon Dante’s frontman Leon Kennedy, everything changes.

COMING SOON TO AO3, "VICES & VIRTUES" STARTS THIS FRIDAY! 🤍

expect to see: age gap (26 vs 47), whirlwind romance, LOTS of smut, barely any plot, me geeking out because i love writing grungy lowkey pervy guitarist leon hehe, aeon, shake and valenfield mentions + moreee

bonus pics under cut...

[kennedys-lvr]

JUST TO KNOW (YOU'RE ALIVE) — CHAPTER 9 (AO3)

another dramatic ass chapter, long ass chapter. but after this we bringing back miss dee, gonna see what she's been getting up to (not much lol). i have plans coming up for this fic that will all be revealed soon :3

i'm running out of my buffer for chapters i need to catch up ahhhh

anyways! full chapter here! 🤍

As the video tape ejected itself, the whirr of the VCR loud in the deafening silence that filled the room in the seconds after the tape had finished playing, my eyes snapped immediately to Helena. My eyebrows furrowed, creasing a huge dent into my forehead as nausea had my stomach clenching, my mind buzzing with a thousand questions.

“Is that what you wanted to show me?” I bit out, jamming a finger toward the black screen.

Helena gawked, her dark eyes widening as she shook her head at me. “No. It wasn't.” She stammered, her eyes starting to dart around as if the answer might pop out of the walls. “I swear, I had no idea that was here—”

“Well then, what are we doing here?!”

Helena looked down toward the ground, and I heard her swallowing. Her hands tightened into fists then relaxed, clenching and unclenching as her nails dug into her palms. I hung my head, sighing deeply as I placed my hands on my hips—the ‘dad’ pose, as Selene might say.

Fuck. I did not need this right now. Exhaustion had my bones and muscles feeling strung out, my nerves and my mind were fried, and this constant game of ‘follow the leader’ to find out such a big mystery was starting to get on my nerves.

Helena lifted her head again, her eyes filling with tears. “Please, just bear with me a little longer. I promise I’ll explain, but—we’re running out of time. Deborah.. she needs me.”

“Who’s Deborah?”

Helena’s shoulders slumped, a shaking hand tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear before she muttered gently, “she’s my sister. I’ll tell you more later, but please. I want to find her. I need to know if she’s okay. If she's still alive.”

I frowned, pushing a hand through my hair. Grease and sweat followed my fingers, which I grimaced at as I dusted my hand against my pants. 

In that face—that pout, the quiver of Helena’s bottom lip that she tried to hide, in the flicker of fear in those dark eyes—I could see her. I could hear her, too—my smartass wife, telling me to go and be a hero, since I could never resist not being one.

Goddamn it. I eventually relented, my sigh reluctant and heavy. “Fine. Lead the way.”

Helena blinked, as if unsure she heard me right. Then, she smiled, relief flooding her features as she turned and strode off, taking point as she led us deeper into the lab. We passed through a containment area featuring more of those spore carriers, which notes on them called the creatures ‘Lepotica’. More chrysalises, which thankfully stayed put as we progressed further, ending up needing to lower a series of bridges just to get across, dealing with a few stragglers that came after us.

“The fuck is this place? This lab has got some intense security to it..” I muttered darkly to myself as I quickly reloaded, slotting a couple more nine-millimetre rounds into my magazine before slotting it back in and pulling back the slide without missing a single beat.

Helena said nothing, instead changing the subject to something else. “So,” She looked warily at me. “That woman, on that tape. Do you know her?”

“Ada? Yeah, I know her.” Why all the curiosity? Especially when Helena wasn't offering up much information about Deborah, and why this place was so important…

“Lot of history?” Helena asked innocently, smiling nervously. As if she could sense my suspicion of her, and how much I didn't want to be engaging in small talk—especially if she was the reason behind all of this madness.

“Too much.”

We kept walking in silence, the lab going further and further underground. Glancing over at Helena, she seemed rather unfazed by all of this—as if she had been here before, and knew exactly where we were going. Did she? I hesitated to ask, figuring she wouldn't tell me. Not until she led me on the rest of her wild goose chase.

Soon enough, we ended up in some kind of mine, with more statues popping up. I shuddered, getting a serious case of deja vu. Flashes of Spain entered my mind, the Los Illuminados cult, having to go through a mine just to save Ashley. Something crawled down my spine, making me feel ill. But it wasn't the plaga—that had been removed years ago. This was something else entirely. Something bigger. it seemed.

Helena rushed ahead as something made her gasp. “Deborah!”

Following Helena, we eventually came across the woman we were looking for. Deborah was passed out cold on the stone floor, a dirty nightgown clinging to her bony frame as her light brown hair was slick with sweat and grime. Small cuts and bruises marred her fair skin, her face contorted into a pained frown even when she was unconscious.

Helena bent down to her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking gently in an attempt to wake her up.

Deborah slowly peeled her eyes open, her hand moving to her head as she winced. She blinked lazily, then her eyes widened slightly. “Helena?”

Helena’s voice cracked with relief, tears brimming in her eyes as she gently grazed her knuckles against her sister’s cheek. “Yeah. Yeah, Deb, it's me. It’s Helena.”

Deborah smiled a dopey smile. She was clearly dosed on something, her head lolling back as Helena eased her upright, before shifting her up onto her back. 

Long limbs hung languidly as Helena gripped her sister’s thighs to her waist, shuffling back onto her feet. “Leon,” she rasped, grunting against the added weight. “Help me.”

“Help me, Helena,” I said, not moving a muscle. Not yet. “Enough with the mystery. What the hell is happening—”

“Help me get her out of here. It’s not safe for her to be here.”

“Is it safe to take her out there? She’s clearly dosed with something.” I narrowed my eyes as I looked over at Deborah. Judging by her long limbs, I estimated her height to be around five-five, maybe five-six. As for her weight, perhaps one-hundred-and-ten pounds. She looked very sickly, mumbling weakly as she faded in and out of consciousness. 

Something didn't feel right here. “She could be infected.”

“She’s not!” Helena glared, anger in her eyes as she growled protectively. But I could also see the tiniest hint of fear, too. Worry that I was right. Doubt, the feeling that she had gotten here too late. That we hadn't been fast enough.

Helena sighed, her voice wobbling. “Leon, please… I promise, I’ll tell you everything. Just—we need to get moving.”

Once again, in that plea, I could hear that wife of mine—I could hear Dee, begging me to come and find her. A lump rose in my throat as I looked at Deborah again. Another person we could lose—that I could fail to save.

But, at the same time—if Deborah was infected, and we helped her to get out of here, I’d be adding to those casualties, not taking away from them.

I swallowed thickly, weighing up my options. I could either refuse to help, and then Helena would refuse to talk. Or, I could help, and doom millions.

Fuck. If we made it out alive, I knew I’d probably regret doing this. “Fine.” I shot Deborah a look, silently praying that she wasn't about to kill us all. “I’ll take care of any hostiles, you just take care of her.”

Helena nodded, determination flashing in her eyes as she shifted Deborah further up her back, adjusting to the weight. “Okay.”

She led the way, the only way to go being down. As we progressed through the caverns, Deborah and Helena stayed a few paces behind me as I took care of the stragglers and chrysalises with both bullets and my knife.

This place had certainly seen better days. I couldn't believe there was a place like this hidden underneath the city. Then again, I once thought the same about Raccoon City. And also Valdelobos. The further down we got, the more this place started to crumble. Rocks fell from high above, plummeting down the large pit in the center. “The roof is starting to cave in.” I warned. “We need to hurry.”

“Don't worry, Deborah.” Helena mumbled reassuringly. “We’re gonna get you home.”

There was a loud, pained scream as Deborah fell from Helena’s back, clutching at her stomach as she stumbled. I quickly whirled around as Helena’s jaw went slack, watching in horror as Deborah’s skin seemingly started to harden, turning a sickly shade of green as she transformed into a chrysalis—the same as we had seen before.

So, she was infected. What the hell had we just done?

“Deborah—no,” Helena began to sob, blinking rapidly at the chrysalis as she searched desperately for a way to get the woman out. “No, this can’t—this can’t be happening—”

[kennedys-lvr]

TENNESSEE WHISKEY, STRAWBERRY WINE — CHAPTER 44 (AO3)

one more chapter of this fic to go! i'm gonna be so so emo on monday lol. i'm even emo now.

enjoy the chapter! read it in full here! 🤍

For the second time now, I'm waking up in her bed when the sun is already out. Warm sunlight streams in through the blinds, illuminating the room in a golden haze. The rumpled waffle sheets, the stark white walls, the smooth dark brown of the oak wood floor. It all looks so radiant, and it fills my chest with a hint of warmth.

I crane my neck to look over at the clock on the nightstand, seeing that it's just gone nine-thirty in the morning. I let out a long, tired groan as the events of last night come back to kick me in the ass. As I push myself to sit up, a hand quickly presses into my chest and pushes me back down again, before Dee quickly moves to sit on top of me.

I let out a low hum of interest as my hands move to her hips, thumbs tracing around the protruding bones as she straddles against my abdomen. She doesn't have anything on, so as I feel the gentle swipe of her bare pussy lips over my abs, it makes my core clench with excitement.

She leans down to nuzzle against my neck, purring softly like a cat as her soft nose brushes against my leathery skin. The tickle of her breath on my neck has me chuckling softly. “Mm—” My voice comes out as a deep croak, almost a groan as my hands slide over her hips to her back to trace over the little notches that trail up her spine. “You’re not gonna let me get up, are you?”

“Nope. I'm keeping you here with me.” She murmurs sleepily, her lips brushing gentle kisses to my skin which draws out a deep groan from the back of my throat. I feel that tell-tale tightness between my legs, my cock rising with interest and the proximity of her bareness to the waistband of my boxers.

“Well, I guess I can't complain about that, can I?”

She lifts her head to look up at me. In this light, she always looks so beautiful—but there was something about the puffiness of her eyes that just accentuated her beauty all the more. Last night when we came in here, she cried in my arms. I held her as tight as I could, rubbing her back as we both curled up on the bed. Then, when her sobs died out, she kissed me. I kissed her back.

And you get the picture. We made love. Slowly. Gently. Unhurried.

Like we had all the time in the world.

“You don't have to sneak through my window anymore,” she says hopefully, a gentle smile on her face as her words took me out of my remembering of last night.

“I still can, if you want,” I tease, pinching her side playfully. She squeaks and giggles, and I smirk. Give me mornings like this forever, and I can die a happy man. “I know you like seeing me make a fool of myself.”

“No. No more windows. Just doors.”

She shuffles herself down, dragging those bare lips across my stomach to the steadily-rising erection. I groan again, licking my lips as I shift my hips up into her, getting a feel for how wet and warm she was for me. Of course, I could feel it on my stomach, but against my cock—even through the tightening fabric of my boxers—it felt even more warm, even more wet.