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hey so.
i decided to make a fresh blog to post all my ao3 stuff on, as this acc is a side blog which means i always get notifs from my main blog and any communities i join will go on my main blog and ugh
soâfrom now on, all new posts will be on @kennedys-lvr !! so go and follow that blog! <3
#ao3 writer#resident evil#leon kennedy#ao3 fanfic#leon kennedy fanfic#fanfiction#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x fem oc#resident evil 4#re4 remake#i still will spam just on that blog lol#i'll keep these blogs active tho to link oc posts haha#i just won't post on them#yh
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I DON'T CARE IF (HEAVEN WON'T TAKE ME BACK) â CHAPTER 6 (AO3)
hey ppl! tuesday yay! we got another drama filled chapter coming up (tho this snippet seems so tame but i promise shit happens lol)
full chapter here!
if you enjoy my works, pls leave a comment/kudos on ao3! even if it's just an emoji comment, i still love it! i love engaging with you guys!
I let out a whoosh of breath as I closed the door to my apartment, bracing myself against the strong sturdy wood as the whiplash of the long nightâcoupled with that whole mess with Leon earlier todayâhit me like a ton of bricks. I craved the sweet release of sleep like you wouldn't believe.
Leon. The mere mention of his name in the back of my mind caused him to appear yet again, his little sneers and jabs at me floating around my head. I scoffed to the empty apartment, feeling the anger rising in me again from his accusations. I could hardly believe himâhow I could have ever thought he was sweet and endearing once upon a time is beyond me.
But I didn't intend to make that same mistake again.
As for Patrick, I wasn't not sure what I planned to do. He was a nice guy, if a little nervous all the time. Iâd probably give him a chance, though. If only so it would piss Leon off to see me with him.
A soft meow drew me out of my thoughts, alongside the gentle padding of paws along my hardwood floor and the soft click of kitten claws. Trixie meandered her way over to me, bumping up against my leg with her head in her funny way of greeting meâbut also telling me she wanted something. I chuckled fondly at my smart-yet-mischievous little kitten, bending down and scooping her up into my arms. She curled around my forearm, lightly grazing my knuckles with her teeth.
âAlright, alright. Iâll feed you.â
I walked with Trixie over to her food bowl in the kitchen. There were still some biscuits in there, but it needed a top up of meat. Depositing Trixie back onto the ground before grabbing a packet of wet food from the box, she followed beneath my feetâliterally getting beneath themâas I walked back over to the bowl and plopped fresh cat meat in the empty bowls.
Trixie purred in thanks, stepping up to the bowl and happily nibbling.
âGood girl, Trix.â Petting her silken fur gently, I hummed softly at the fuzzy sensation that came as I ran my fingers along that soft coat of hers. I then moved onto the bedroom, stripping out my clothes along the way as I headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Throwing my purse onto my bed as I went, the little leather over-the-shoulder bag bounced on my mattress with a jingle from my keys inside.
I switched on the radio in the bathroom, keeping it on the currently tuned station of current pop music, before switching on the shower and jumping in once the water was hot enough. I spent roughly fifteen minutes in the showerâfive to soak in the steam, five to lather up and shave, five to wash my hair. When I got out of the shower I felt all tingly and warm, humming softly to myself as I wrapped a towel around my body and padded back into my bedroom, my wet feet slapping against the tiled floor.
After drying myself off and changing into something more comfortableâan oversized Guns N Roses shirt that hung off of one shoulder and a pair of black cotton panties, I felt like I was in a warm, dazed cocoon. I really should have been focusing on packing for the upcoming missionâat any point, I would be called and told I was bound to Chinaâbut right now, my main priority was catching up on sleep.
I belly flopped onto my bed, snuggling up into my cosy cotton comforter that smelled like fresh linen, a soothing smell that lulled me right into bliss. Stretching out like a cat in the sun, I arched my back and curled my toes as I hummed and writhed in total comfortâbefore a flash of heat raced down my spine as the memory of that brown-haired asshole of a former partner sat itself front and center in the front of my mind again.
I remembered the two of us being in this very room together just last year, with myself on all fours for him as we both defiled this room with an event that definitely shouldn't have happened, but was bound to happen regardless. A familiar tingle shot between my legs, my thighs rubbing together at the sudden but wanted memory of his mouth and his tongue.
It would be ever so easy for me right now to just push my hand between my thighs andâ
I gasped, the sound soft and breathy as I did my best to push away that sudden unprompted arousal. I shouldn't be like this. Iâd had a lot of others since thenâI had fucked the memory of Leon out of this room and out of my body, yet he was still there. Like a persistent mold that I couldn't get rid of, no matter how much bleach or spray I used. No matter what I used to numb the memory of that night.
Gritting my teeth, I willed him away. Seeing him again todayâgetting into that spat with himâhad dulled my resolve tenfold. I hated it. I loved it. I hated him. I loved him.
I pushed away my sexual frustration and urged myself to get some sleep instead, only managing around half an hour before my phone rang in my bag. Groaning, I grabbed the small silver flip phone and blinked in frustration at the tiny screen. Hunnigan. I quickly wiped the drool from my cheek before thumbing the answer button, holding the phone to my ear.
âHunnigan.â
âHartwellâwere you sleeping?â
âMm.â I grunted, pushing myself up into a sitting position and running a hand through my dishevelled hair. âTurns out that little meeting with the President last night ended with an outbreak at the White House. I spent most of the night in his bunker, then a lot of time in an office chair slumped over a laptop. Iâm fucking beat.â
âYes, I heard about the outbreak.â There was a murmur of annoyance in Hunniganâs tone, and a furious clacking of keyboard keys. I wondered which of her agents had pissed her off. At least it wasn't me this time. âHave they found the cause of it yet?â
âNo. But Shenmei did find out who hacked the White House. The Instituteââ
âInstitute of Biological Sciences in Shanghai, I know. That was what I was calling to tell you. The President and Defense Secretary Wilson have given the go-ahead for you and your team to head for Shanghai. Weâll be sending a car to you within the next fifteen minutes to come and pick you up and take you to the airfield where you and the others will fly over to the naval base in Guam and infiltrate via submarine.â
âGuam?â I furrowed my eyebrows. Why not just fly directly to China? âThat's, like, a twenty-hour trip.â
âIt is.â Twenty hours in a tiny chopper with Leon? Great. âI suggest packing a bagâwe aren't sure on the time frame for this mission, so pack enough for at least a week.â
âOkay, will do.â I sighed, rolling my eyes before shaking my head with a dry chuckle. âIâm not at all looking forward toââ
âLeon?â Hunnigan asked with a smirk in her tone.
âHow did you know that?â
âDid you forget that Iâm also his handler too? Navigating between the two of you is like a kid with divorced parents. Awkward as anything.â Hunnigan giggled. I grimacedâwere we really that bad? âOh, and I also made sure to give your number to those rookies from the gym.â
I had completely forgotten about thatâLeon needed to get the fuck out of my head. âThanks. I doubt Iâll make it back for Friday, but Iâll try. Iâm gonna need a palate cleanser after dealing with him.â
âIâll be ready to update your dating availability as and when, then.â Hunnigan crooned, and I felt a flush of colour in my cheeks. What I wouldn't do without Ingrid Hunnigan. âHave a good mission, and be safe. If you need anything, Iâm just at the other end of the phone.â
Hunnigan hung up. No sooner than she had, I got another callâthis time from Ashley. I could only imagine what she was going to say, and as I clicked that little green button and lifted the phone to my ear, the first thing I heard was a panicked screech.
âAshleyââ
âAre you okay?! My dadâmy dad said there had been some kind of incident at the White House. There were, like, zombies and stuff.â She said in a giant flood of words without expelling a single breath.
âWeâre fine, Ashley.â Take a breath. As if she had heard my little telepathic instruction, I heard her sigh on the other end of the phone. âYour father is fine, Iâm fine, Leon is fine.â
âLeonâs there?â She asked, her voice cracking with slowly dwindling anxiety.
âYes. He and I are paired for another mission. Weâll be going to China for a bitâresearching a bioscience facility in Shanghai.â
âOh. Okay.â She paused. She then took another breath. I could picture her worrying her bottom lip and frowned at the thought. âWell.. how long are you going to be out there?â
âLike I said, Ash, a bit. A few days at mostâit depends what happens when weâre out there. Why?â
#ao3 writer#resident evil#leon kennedy#ao3 fanfic#leon kennedy fanfic#fanfiction#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x fem oc#oc x canon
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TENNESSEE WHISKEY, STRAWBERRY WINE â CHAPTER 19 (AO3)
heyyy everyone! it's a new week! currently feeling pretty sleepy still because i went to the playstation concert last night in London (!!!!) and we got home super late lol but it was fun! i got me a TLOU shirt that came w a free pin that is currently on my gym tote next to my RE one hehe.
anyways, enjoy the chapter! jealous!leon things hehe. also... that plot point about the horse will def crop up again in a much later chapter. :3
full chapter here!
I feel like I might burn a hole through this woman's head with how hard Iâm staring at her. And maybe I want to.
I don't even know what Iâm fucking doing here. Iâm not a fan of the gymâI prefer working out through hard manual labor rather than protein shakes and dieting. I did that shit back when I was in the rodeo and crafted a good enough body that is still easily sustained through hard living, so I don't need some prissy commercial gym in the center of town to make me feel any better.
But then she had to come sauntering out of the house in black leggings and a grey padded sports bra after two whole months of not talking to me, and suddenly I had the urge to check out that gym.
Yeah, I know this is unhealthy for a man of my age. Any sane person would call me a walking red flag and threaten to call the cops on me for being a borderline creep, stalking her like this. The sane part of me calls me that, that tiny little part of my brain currently being smothered by raging testosterone as I just watched her get asked out by Chris fucking Redfield.
Iâm not mad at Chris. I don't mind Chris. Heâs a good kid, he comes from good stock. I know that. But, Iâm also running on fumes, dealing with a ticking jaw that clenches whenever Chris brushes up against her and the lance of irritation whenever those eyes of hers sparkle at something he says.
I had been a fucking idiot that day. I had brought Ada back to the ranch with me after our little moment in that lay-by, not realising that Dee hadnât gone to Claireâs motel like she had said she would. And I let Ada walk down those fucking stairs and introduce herself to Dee, and I didn't fucking correct her.
I had been a fucking floundering idiot, and paid the price by her shutting me out whenever I tried to talk to her. I could never bring it up at dinner in front of her family for obvious reasons, and whenever we had a slight sliver of alone time, she took every opportunity to run out of there before I could open my mouth.
She had forced me to watch her pretend that sheâs fine, forcing me into a cage and throwing away the key.
âLeon?â
Fuck. Chris is waving at me now, grinning like a fucking golden retriever as he beckons me over. Dee shuffles next to him, staring down at the ground like sheâs waiting for it to open up and swallow her whole.
You and me both, sweetheart.
My feet move awkwardly. I don't want to be a part of this conversation and watch them make goo-goo eyes at each other. I had just caught the tail-end of their conversation, and Iâm not in the mood to clap Chris on the back and wish him good luck.
But Iâm in front of them now, and I have to say something. âHey, Chris.â I nod with a tight-lipped smile towards a man I suddenly consider my rival, as fucking idiotic and obsessive as that sounds. Then, I glance at Dee, who still can't stand to look at me.
The urge to reach out and grab her chin and force her to meet my gaze, to see that Iâm here, that Iâm here to fucking stay whether she likes it or not, is a strong one. We have to co-existâshe has to stop shutting me out.
Fuck. I need out of this conversation.
âDee.â
âLeon.â Her voice is clipped, as if saying my name hurts her. Saying her name hurt me.
âWhat are you doing here, man?â Chris takes charge of the conversation again, clapping me on the back in that annoyingly familiar way. My back burns from the combination of his slap and the ache of working out at age forty-six and pushing myself for a woman's attention like a fucking loser.
âWorking out?â
âWell, yeah, I know that.â Chris sees my deadpan expression as something funny, laughing it off with that boisterous laugh of his that, in the moment, makes me want to shove my foot up his ass.
Since when did I become a fucking grizzly? Jeez.
âWhy didnât you come and join us? We could have worked out together, man!â
I didn't join you because the girl you just asked out would have killed me on the fucking spot, and I would have fucking let her.
âYou looked like you were having fun.â I shrug casually, playing this nonchalantly. My eyes flit to Dee as she sucks in a breath and finally looks up from the floor, but she still doesn't look at me. She looks at Chris, those brown pools flit over every inch of him like sheâs searching for something.
âI didn't wanna intrude.â
âYou wouldn't have.â Chris earnestly promises, pressing a hand over his heart. âIt would have been an honour to work out with you, dude. But, fine. If you insist that you didn't wanna intrudeââ
âI didnâtââ
âThen Iâm not gonna fight you on it.â Chris has that easy smile that seemed so disarming, but it isn't working on me right now. Right now Iâm wound tight like a coil, waiting for that one thing that would push me over the fucking edge.
I want to turn back the clock. I want to apologise to her for being an idiot, tell her that I did want her, but there were so many fucking complicationsâand I made them all the more fucking complicated by just⌠being stupid and unworthy of her.
I clear my throat, taking this moment where I have her in my orbit to say something, anything. âHowâs Rocky doing?â
âRocky?â Chris tilts his head curiously.
Dee swallows with a low sigh. âRocky,â her voice is still hoarse, rough like gravel. âHeâs my new jumping horse. Iâm thinking of getting back into the circuit again. Entering some comps.â
âReally?â Chris brightens even more at that, like he isn't smiling with a wattage that rivals the sun. Envy twists in my gut at the sight, but I also feel a tiny bloom of pride in my chest as I think about Dee doing showjumping.
When she had jumped on Daxon that day, sailing through the air like a bird, I had been enamoured. She had so much fun out there, and she looked amazing doing itâattractive and alluring, as well as graceful and elegant. So, naturally, when I had heard through the grapevine that some rancher in a town halfway across the state was selling up to move closer to the city to be with his granddaughter, and was looking for people to take his horses and make them proper winners, I took one look at Rocky and drove the fuck up there to bring him home with me.
For her.
But she thinks that Brian got him for her, and so that is how itâll stayâespecially now, of all times.
âYouâre gonna do great out there.â Chris says genuinely, and the words stingâbecause I want to be the one to say them.
I want to be the one to make her smile bashfully like that, to make her make that little snort noise that she makes for him as she rolls her eyes. âThanks, Chris. I don't know when Iâm gonna enter yet. Iâm still thinking it over, testing out his abilities. He runs smooth during practice, but I don't know how heâll be during the real thingââ
âHeâll be fine so long as youâre the one riding him.â
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I hate how growly I sound. She flinches a little bit, stiffening momentarily before relaxing and squaring her shoulders in that familiar way that told me sheâs about to shut me out again, that that was the last thing I will get to say to her for the next week or so.
âThanks for the vote of confidence.â
Now her words sting, tipped with poison headed straight for my heart. And Iâm welcoming that burn because at least sheâs talking to me.
âAnyways,â Chris smoothly transitions, either not noticing the tension between us or not caring. âDee, weâre on for The Hay Barn tonight? I could pick you up around.. eight? Pre-drinks at Carlosâ before hitting the floor?â
There goes my fucking jaw ticking again. The mention of Carlosâ reminds me of the time she was on the bar and I caught her. The mention of The Hay Barn has me remembering the feeling of her legs wrapped around my waist and my tongue in her mouth and on her skin.
âYeah, sure.â Dee hums, and I know Iâm definitely done here. Those cage bars slam down on me again, and sheâs taunting me from the other side, rubbing it in my faceâtoo bad, you lose, try again never.
âWell,â I don't give a shit how I sound now. âI best get going. Iâve got stuff to get back to back at the ranch, so..â
#ao3 writer#resident evil#leon kennedy#ao3 fanfic#leon kennedy fanfic#fanfiction#leon s kennedy#older leon kennedy#small town au#cowboy au#cowboy!leon#dilf!leon
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YOU!! YES, YOU!! GO WRITE THAT FANFIC YOU THINK NOBODY BUT YOU WILL READ!!
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I DON'T CARE IF (HEAVEN WON'T TAKE ME BACK) â CHAPTER 5 (AO3)
i love writing jealousy i love writing jealousy I LOVE WRITING JEALOUSY. also claire redfield aaaaa! i def lean onto the cleon vibes a bit here, but dw the main ship is still gonna sail. it's just being repaired, lol. the mini ships r currently sailing.
full chapter here!
pls be sure to leave a kudos/comment if ur enjoying my fics so far! i love reading all the love. also pre-warning that the next chapter of this fic is gonna be a long one, but a good one.
Daylight poured through the large window at the end of the hallway, the golden light of the mid morning sun casting a warm glow on the hazmat-suited individuals that were currently zipping up bodies into black body bags. I grimaced at the sight of it, my thoughts plagued with the harrowing realisation that the people in these bagsâthe zombified aides and staff members that had the misfortune of being here during an outbreakâwere never going home to their families again.
I had no idea what time it wasâit had been a very long night, and I was exhausted. But there was still work to be doneâand Jason made sure to remind me of that. âSoâwhat are we thinking, big shot?â Jason asked, his heavy footsteps matching pace with my own.
We were heading to the Situation Room to regroup, get our bearings and get started on the mission we had been asked to doâwhich was to dig through the data logs of the last forty-eight hours and find out who had hacked into the White House and stole that file.
âWhat are we thinking?â
âAbout what caused all this mess.â Jason nodded his head toward another body bag being zipped upâPress Secretary Spacer. âYou think itâs maybe T?â
âMaybe.â I cast my mind back to the outbreak I had faced in Pittsburgh. Had someone snuck a bomb into the White House? Was there some sort of gas canister hidden in the vents somewhere? âThere was an outbreak in Pittsburgh I had dealt with before I came here. That was using T.â
We walked through the main lobby, which bustled with activity as always. Tired interns and aides walked around with styrofoam coffee cups, talking amongst themselves grumpilyânone the wiser that there were dead bodies in the halls. If only I was one of these aides, I thought to myself as my shoes clicked against the pristine tile. I would have killed to have been one of these aides, whose only issue is making sure I got to work on time.
âSo the t-virus is back, then.â Jason said, his voice drawing me out of my thoughts.
âMaybe.â I shrugged. âOr it could be something else entirely.â
âWeâll find it outââ
âLeon?â
I stopped in my tracks at the familiar voice, turning to see Claire Redfield. Claire Redfield. I hadn't seen her in years, not since Raccoon City. After Raccoon Cityâs fall, sheâd gone off in search of her brother. But Iâd kept in contact with herâI knew of her recent work with TerraSave, an NGO helping victims of bioterrorism.
Whilst I fought the zombies, she helped the people affected by the disasters they caused.
I felt a smile break out of me, huffing out a gentle chuckle as I felt my cheeks warm. She still looked exactly the same as when I had last seen herâsame fiery red hair that glowed even redder in the sunlight, same mischievous glint in her light green eyes. She was a little bit thinner than when I had last met her, though. And taller. Her red leather jacket looked pristine atop her crisp white blouse, dark skinny jeans and high heeled boots, with a manila folder tucked beneath her arm snugly.
âHey, Claire.â My voice was suddenly breathy, like there was a frog caught in my throat. Jesus Christ.
âHey yourself.â Claire grinned, flashing pearly white teeth at me. Her gaze then fell to Jason beside me, and her eyes widened a little. âHeyâyouâre the Hero of Penamstan.â
Jason grunted, folding his broad arms across his chest in annoyance. He clearly wasn't in the mood for conversation. Of course I understood the urgencyâbut there was no need to be so rude, I thought as a frown tugged at my lips.
âIâm no hero.â Jason uttered under his breath. âKennedyâcome on, no chit-chat. We gottaââ
âFive minutes.â I requested, like I was a little kid begging his dad for a little extra time outside before dinner.
Back in Raccoon City, Claire and I had become closeâwe were just two kids, basically, trying to survive in a hellscape together. Iâd been a twenty-one-year-old cop, and she had been a nineteen-year-old university student. We had been suddenly thrust into this life with no way out, and we had a kid with us too. Even if I ended up doing most of the kid stuff in the end, until the government intervened.
I cared about Claire a lot, and the cop that still lived within me wanted to bask within her presence, to sink back into the little crush that Iâd had on her back then. To be honest, a part of me still retained that crush on herâbut I also had admiration for how far sheâd come, not letting Raccoon City get her down like it had gotten me down so many times in the past.
Jason sighed deeply, before he rolled his eyes and relented. âFive minutes.â He bitterly grumbled. âHave your chat, then. Weâll be in the room.â
With that, Jason stalked away toward the room. He was followed by Patrick, Shenmei and Dee. She lingered for a few seconds, looking back at Claire and I with a tiny, imperceptible frown. But no sooner had it graced her features did it slip away as she disappeared around the corner.
I turned my attention back to Claire, blowing out a breath and running a hand through my hair with a sheepish, slightly hopeful smile. âSo, what brings you here?â
âIâm supposed to be meeting Press Secretary Spacer to talk about the summit being attended by the Penamstanis on the thirteenth, but nobody seems to be telling me anything about where he is.â Claire frowned. I frowned too, for a different reason. Press Secretary Spacer was dead. Zombified in the West Wing.
âThat sucks. Hopefully you find him soon.â I mumbled, trying to find an out in the conversation.
âYeah.â Claire sighed, then immediately perked up again. âOh, that reminds me. I need to show you something.â
She retrieved the folder from underneath her arm and flipped it open, turning the folder around to let me see what she had. My heart dropped into my stomach at the drawing she was showing me. âWhat the hell is this?â I muttered, my eyes tracing over the crisp linework and shading that made up the very harrowing scene of carnage and zombies.
Claire leaned in closer next to me. She smelled like cherriesâI presumed from her shampoo as her copper ponytail fluttered before me, or perhaps from a perfume. I swallowed thickly, momentarily distracted by her scent. But not enough to fully stop the haunting visions and hallucinations holding my mind hostage that had been struck by this drawing in my hands. Yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't tear my eyes from it.
âA kid in Penamstan drew this.â Claire explained, her voice soft yet full of concern and slight trepidation. âAccording to someone I spoke to out there, he saw the violence unfolding. He was mute, Leonâutterly terrified. It broke my heart.â I heard Claire swallow. Her light green eyes shimmered with tears. I felt for herâClaire had such a big heart, and that was one of the reasons I had fallen for her in the first place.
âSeeing this just reminded me of Raccoon City, don't you think?â
âYeah..â
âNot much has been revealed about Penamstan, or what happened during the civil war there six years ago.â Claire continued. âIâm thinking that there had to have been another outbreak out there.â
âMaybe.â I paused, hesitating for a moment before adding, âthere was an outbreak here last night, and Iâve recently come back from a similar outbreak in Pittsburgh. It was bad, Claire.â
âShit.â Claire hissed beneath her breath, her eyebrows furrowing. âDo you know what caused it?â
I really shouldn't be telling her this. Claire was a civilian, a member of the public who wasn't permitted to know the inner workings of our agency. I knew I needed to keep quiet. Yet, at the same time, Claire wasn't just an ordinary civilian to me. She was there during Raccoon City. She knew all about what caused the bumps in the night.
And it wasn't like she was a reporter about to sell off trade secrets. âWell, in Pittsburgh, it had been the t-virus.â I said with a tired sigh and a hollow shrug. âWeâre not sure if it's the same thing happening here.â
âZombies in the White House⌠I mean, that explains all the hazmats I saw.â Claire mumbled in disbelief, offering a dry chuckle. Then, her tone became worried again. âIs the Presidentââ
âHeâs fine.â I reassured her. Claire blew out a huff of relief. âShaken up, but fine. But, Claire, I gotta go. Duty calls and stuff.â
#ao3 writer#resident evil#leon kennedy#ao3 fanfic#leon kennedy fanfic#fanfiction#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x fem oc#oc x canon#resident evil oc#resident evil infinite darkness#dee hartwell
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AO3 has been scraped, once again.
As of the time of this post, AO3 has been scraped by yet another shady individual looking to make a quick buck off the backs of hardworking hobby writers. This Reddit post here has all the details and the most current information. In short, if your fic URL ends in a number between 1 and 63,200,000 (inclusive), AND is not archive locked, your fic has been scraped and added to this database.
I have been trying to hold off on archive locking my fics for as long as possible, and I've managed to get by unscathed up to now. Unfortunately, my luck has run out and I am archive locking all of my current and future stories. I'm sorry to my lovelies who read and comment without an account; I love you all. But I have to do what is best for me and my work. Thank you for your understanding.
#two of my works got hit by this i ://#i don't wanna archive lock my work but GOD this sucks so much#dee rambles#ao3#ao3 writer
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so... i wanted to show off my rdr2 oc (because i love my silly little horsie game sm) !! her lore is under the cut (tw: rape, abuse, csa, just general dead dove things.)
and yes: she will eventually have a fic written on her. i'm working on it in between my re fics (but it won't be out until at least a year lmao, i still have my cod fics to post.)
BESSIE "BEE" MORGAN. (formerly calloway, formerly welles)
EARLY LIFE.
bessie welles was born to a train driver father and a homemaker mother in armadillo in the year 1876, raised in the town of armadillo, new austin until she was twelve years old. an infection hit her town hard, and she lost both parents to it.
after her father died, her mother put her on a train to rhodes, sending her to live with her uncle (on her father's side). her mother died shortly after that, and she only learned of her parents deaths once she arrived in rhodes.
two months after arriving in rhodes, bessie got her first period. it was then that her uncle suddenly revealed his extreme gambling debts, and to make amends, her uncle forced her into prostitution. bessie worked out of her uncle's house until she was sixteen, then she was sent to the saloon to continue working out of there.
MEETING ORSON CALLOWAY
when bessie was twenty years old, she met orson calloway, a sugar beet plantation owner. orson sweet-talked her, promising her a life of luxury and prosperity away from prostitution. bessie fell for his charms, and let him court her and take her back to his home.
that was perhaps the worst decision she had ever madeâwhen she arrived back at the calloway home, she found out he not only had a wife, but bessie was to be used as a breeding mule.
orson's wife couldn't bear children, so orson had found a woman who shared her likeness (which was bessie) to impregnate instead. bessie was kept locked up within the calloway home, repeatedly raped by orson to get pregnant. any pregnancy bessie had, she never carried to term, and so orson beat her.
MEETING ARTHUR MORGAN.
bessie met arthur when she was twenty-three years old. by the time of meeting him, she had suffered several miscarriages.
bessie met arthur when she ran away from the calloway house, literally running into his arms. at the time, she believed arthur to be a deputy (he had his badge on) and so arthur went along with it, saving bessie from her husband and bringing her back to camp.
bessie found out arthur's true identity when she overheard arthur telling dutch about burning down the plantation for tavish gray. bessie trusted arthur despite being lied to, having fallen for him.
LIFE IN THE CAMP.
bessie quite enjoys life in the camp. she works mainly as a handmaid, doing the small menial tasks around campâwashing clothes, helping pearson with the meals, tending to the horses etc.
bessie has a few friends within camp. she enjoys spending time with the marstonsâabigail and jack, mainly, but also john too. she also enjoys the company of mary-beth, tilly and lenny.
micah, however, is someone she has a dark history with. during a party at camp one night, whilst arthur is out killing orson after he found bessie in rhodes, micah corners bessie. he taunts her about her past, and ends up raping her in arthur's tent. arthur comes home just as micah finishes, and rightfully beats his ass before taking bessie and running.
FALLING FOR ARTHUR.
bessie and arthur become a couple very shortly after the micah situation. arthur takes bessie to rhodes, where she has a bath and arthur comforts her during a panic attack. rhodes is where the two of them first make love that night, spurred on mainly by bessie needing love.
arthur is very protective of bessie, and even gives her the nickname "bee". they get married shortly after he, dutch, javier, bill and micah return from guarma after the mess in saint denis, where bessie reveals she's pregnant.
bessie is there for arthur during his decline with tuberculosis, even though the couple can no longer be physical. arthur stays away for bessie and his unborn child's sake, and bessie becomes griefstricken and angry at the world, and the gang, for the decline of her husband's health.
EPILOGUE.
between 1900 and 1907, bessie was riding with the marston family. she gave birth to a daughter, annie. in 1907, when john brought charles back to beecher's hope, she found out that charles had been the one to bury arthur, and she and charles rode there together so that bessie could say a final goodbye.
following 1907, she and annie moved out to blackwater, where bessie got a job working in a restaurant as a waitress, later owning the restaurant. as annie grew older, she too would work in this restaurant, which is where she met a much older jack marston, who she had been raised alongside for a good few years.
bessie and annie make the pilgrimage to arthur's grave every year. one year, bessie met mary lintonâarthur's lost love. the two women wish each other well.
bessie will eventually die peacefully of old age in 1959, at the age of 83 years old. jack marston would take his mother-in-law's body to decompose on his uncle arthur's gravesite.
#ao3 writer#red dead redemption 2#red dead oc#rdr2 fandom#rdr2#rdr#red dead redemption#arthur morgan#bessie bee morgan#oc#original character#original female character#female oc#fem oc#tw: abuse#tw: sa mention#tw: csa#dead dove do not eat#dd:dne#oc lore
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Will it be ok if I draw Dee and My Oc as friends? đđ
YES OMG PLS DO !!! đđđđ i love seeing fanart of my bbg so when you've drawn it be sure to tag me!!
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TENNESSEE WHISKEY, STRAWBERRY WINE â CHAPTER 18 (AO3)
happy friday everyone! hope you guys had a good week and are pumped for the weekend! got a VERY DRAMA FILLED UPDATE here (i want chris as a gym buddy tbh.) hope you enjoy it!
full chapter here!
I havenât spoken to Leon in two months.
I refuse to even acknowledge his presence unless absolutely necessaryâwhich is pretty fucking often, given the fact heâs at every single family dinner, always sitting right in front of me and looking like someone had stolen the last of the chocolate bars he really wanted.
I have nothing to say to him, and yet, I have everything to say to him.
I want to scream at him, to ask him how the fuck he could just do thatâbuild me up so fucking high, and then tear me down with little to no remorse.
I want to hit him, to beat him bloody until my knuckles bleed and that pretty fucking face of his is smashed to bits and is unrecognisable.
I want to hate him. And yet, I canât.
And I want to hate her too. I kept seeing her again, both in my mind and in real life. Most nights of the week since that day, Iâve either seen Ada leave the ranch at the crack of dawn, sneaking to her car whilst Leon watches on from his balcony, or I would hear Leonâs truck rumble away in the dead of night, off to see her.
God. Iâm a fucking idiot. Iâve played the part of the perfect fucking fool.
Iâve fallen for a married man. Well fucking done, Dee. Seriously, youâve really outdone yourself.
That anger pours through me again as I desperately tug the handlebar of the diverging seated row machine towards me, gritting my teeth against the sixty-pound weight as the loud discordant electric guitar and raspy scream of Chester Bennington floods my ears thanks to my screamo playlist.
I had gotten antsy back at the ranch, constantly on the lookout for Leon so that I could avoid him, constantly avoiding my family so that I could stop being so fucking jumpy.
So, after nearly all this time hiding myself away from the world, I got into some workout gear and jumped into my car to hit the gym, since getting a good sweat on will clear my head better than any-fucking-thing else right now.
That was another new change in my life tooâgetting a car. I definitely needed one, since I don't want to be stuck relying on someone elseâLeonâto ferry me around town.
My red vintage Rover 216 Cabriolet is currently soaking up the late November sunshine whilst I soak up nothing but sweat and adrenaline as I switch arms to finish out my set. Iâve been working out for the past fifteen minutes, working on the upper body day of my split.
I feel pretty fucking good. Iâm out of breath, yeah, and Iâm probably about to burst a blood vessel from how hard Iâm gritting my teeth, but I feel really good. I definitely needed this. This is a better distraction than anything else lately.
âOkay.â I breathe, dropping the handle back into place as my arms buzz with energy. I lean forward, ducking down to take the pin and drop it down to a weight heavier than what I had just done. âWarm up over. Time to get into it for real.â
Under the bright gym lights, a shadow is cast onto my machine as I see someone lingering in my periphery. I glimpse up at sweat and bulging muscles as I lift one headphone off of my ear to speak to the waiting gym bro. âHey,â I shout over my music. âI justââ
âI thought that was you.â
Chris beams back at me. His blue eyes glimmer beneath the bright fluorescent lights, his own over-ear headphones around his neck as his duffel bag is slung over one shoulder. He has on a tight compression shirt that highlights taut abs and firm biceps, and gray sweatpants that hang low on his stocky hips.
Goddamn. I swallow thickly, tearing my eyes away from admiring himâdo men not know how dangerous gray sweatpants areâbefore returning his smile with one of my own that doesn't quite reach my eyes like his does.
I remove my headphones, the sounds of machines clanging and gym bros grunting loudly filling my ears. âChris, hey.â Thereâs a hint of surprise in my tone, and disbelief that heâs actually here. âIâI would have thought that youâd be out of state right now. Arenât you and Claire on the same kind of rodeo schedule or something?â
âSomething like that.â Chris shrugs loosely, leaning his elbows against my machine. My eyes glimpse at thick veins running across his forearms, little tufts of hair sprouting across his suntanned skin. âClaireâs up in Arizona right now, but sheâll be driving back here in a few days since the rodeo here is coming up and weâre entered into it. I just wanted to check in early, catch up with a few friends. I had a couple of days off and thought, why not come home?â
âI see.â I shrug alongside him. âWell, itâs good to see you.â
âYou too.â Chris nods with a tight-lipped smile. His eyes skim over me, and I feel warmth wash over me and butterflies flutter in my stomach from that gaze, always so friendly and welcoming. Disarming.
A friendly face amongst all of this heartache.
âThough, do you mind if I give you a pointer?â
âA pointer?â
Chris chuckles softly, brushing a hand against his cropped brown hair. âYour form. Itâs like youâre trying to rip your damn arm from the socket. How much are you lifting?â
âOh.â
Most people in this gym keep to themselves and hardly speak to me, let alone correct my form. I feel a twinge of embarrassment, chewing softly on my bottom lip as I glance away from him briefly, looking at my hands which rest against my black leggings.
âUhâseventy pounds,â I admit bashfully, giving Chris a cautious glance. His muscles are so much more defined and bigger than my own, and I get the odd sensation that Iâm about to be mocked for it.
But Chris just nods casually, that smile of his still there. âThatâs fine. So, about your form, let me just..â His hand comes up, then he hesitates. He glances at me warily, his hand hanging in the air like it was frozen in time. âYou donât mind if I, uh..â
My brain catches up quickly to what heâs asking, and I shake my head. âOh, no. Go on ahead.â
âRight.â
I soon feel the warmth of his hand splayed against my lower back, and I shiver at the contact. The butterflies in my stomach continue to flutter as if a much younger version of me is looking down at this interaction with joy and elation after waiting to be noticed for so many years.
The clatter of weights nearby diverts my attention to the corner of the room, my eyes flitting towards the source of the sound with a slight eyebrow furrow of confusion and frustrationâcanât people just set their weights down carefully?
And then I see him.
Wearing a black muscle tee that is soaked in sweat, and a pair of gray sweatpantsâthey should be made illegal on menâis Leon, placing down a pair of forty-five-pound dumbbells back into their slot on the rack.
His eyes are on mine, a fierce blue that bounces off of the mirror and hits me straight in the chest as he takes a single step sideways, grabs the next heaviest weight and hefts them up. My eyes quickly drop to those muscles bulging from his arms, triceps and biceps and every-ceps flexing in the kind of display that has me internally whimpering.
This man is fucking married.
â...If you lean too far back, youâll fuck up your back,â Chris explains, and my focus snaps away from Leon and back to the man giving me tips on my formâthe man whose hand is currently on my lower back and pushing my chest up against the plush pad. âSo keep your chest right up against the pad. Lean back a bit, but not too far.â
âMhm.â I nod, my voice cracking slightly as I force myself to lock into the warmth and familiarity of Chris, not the confusion and angst of Leon. âGot it. I usually tend to grab onto this thing to keep me secure.â
I grab the pad-adjuster-pin-thingy with my right hand. Chris nods with a hum. âYeah, that's fine. And Iâm guessing you operate one arm at a time, yeah?â
âYep.â I say, popping the âpâ sound. In my peripheral vision I can see Leon doing shoulder presses. I swallow thickly, watching as those tight fists go up and he grunts, then lowers with his hiss.
Up with a grunt, down with a hiss.
âThatâs fine.â Chris' voice brings me back to reality. Damn it, Dee. Stop getting distracted. âIf that works for you, it works. Now, when you get into the actual set..â
#ao3 writer#resident evil#leon kennedy#ao3 fanfic#leon kennedy fanfic#fanfiction#leon s kennedy#older!leon#small town au#cowboy au
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me: omg i have too many ocs i wanna write about i can't possibly think of any more
also me: thinks up a whole 9-1-1 oc with lore
#dee talks#like i'm getting thru the show rn and like AAAAAAAAA#she's a cool girl with ⨠lore ⨠tho#and tbh i wanted to make a girlie that smashes both buck and eddie bc those men r so fine#she'll also be a season 5 oc too since that's the season im on rn#i ain't planned the fic yet but best believe i will#ao3 writer
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Did I ever say that you're amazing?
Well you are â¤
ahhhh tysm ren đ
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I DON'T CARE IF (HEAVEN WON'T TAKE ME BACK) â CHAPTER 4 (AO3)
things are now picking up fast! you guys better get hold on because i am READY for the drama to be drama-ing. forcing these two together like barbie dolls fr.
full chapter here! đ
Jason came charging into the office like a bat out of hell, making Warren nearly jump out of his skin as the giant man tore his way across the room in three giant strides to the desk. He picked up the phone as if it had insulted him in some way, jamming fat fingers at the buttons before he spoke into the receiver with a tense, clipped voice.
Patrick was leaning up against the wall. He looked haggardâsickly and pale, covered in blood and sweat. As if he had seen a ghost or something. His arms were wrapped around himself protectively, his hands rubbing up and down as if to comfort himself as he whispered quietly to himself, âthey aren't real, they aren't real..â
At least, it sounded as if he was whispering that. He was muttering so quietly that I could barely hear him. Plus, my focus was on somebody else that had just entered the room.
He looked so different from the last time I had seen him. His once dirty blond hair was now chocolate brown, but I could still see a bit of blond peppered in. As if heâd dyed his hair, but not properly. He seemed a lot more built beneath that suit of his, biceps straining against the pressed fabric. Through his crisp white dress shirt that clung to him with his sweat, I could see the familiar outline of his abdomenâthat six-pack I had run my fingers along a little over a year ago. My blood boiled at the memory, my heart stopping in its regular rhythm as a lump forced itself into my throat unbidden.
There was a small amount of stubble peppering his jawline, which was made even more prominent by the dim lighting in this room. I hardly even recognised Leon anymore. But I knew those eyesâthat ice-blue, that arctic gaze that made me ironically made me feel warm. I certainly recognised the look he was giving me now, full of surprise and trepidation.
I thought of saying something, but I couldn't form the wordsâin either my brain, which had gone fuzzy and given up on me from the shock of seeing this man again after so long, or my tongue, which had gone numb in my mouth, swelled up like a balloon.
Thankfully, he didn't see fit for reunions. He made a beeline for the corner, removing a painting from the wall to reveal a secret weapons cache. Jason, now off of the phone to what I assumed to be SWAT, went over to help distribute the weapons to the other Secret Service members in the room who had rushed in here when the lights had cut out.
âSWAT should be on their way soon.â Jason murmured to Leon. He then turned to Warren and said with a tone brimming with authority, âsirâwe need to get you to the bunker right away. These halls aren't safe right now.â
âWhat's going on out there?â Warren asked, but the look of resignation on his face told me he already had the faintest idea.
âZombies.â Patrick whispered fearfully from his spot on the wall. His eyes were wide and glassy, and his voice cracked on the words. He looked like he might pass out at any second. This man was supposedly FBI, and he was shitting fucking bricks. âThereâs zombies out there, Mr. President.â
âZombies?â Defense Secretary Wilsonâwho had recently joined Warren's staff after Warren got re-elected in Novemberâsputtered in shock. Behind his glasses, his eyes widened. He looked at Jason, then at Leon, silently demanding some kind of explanation.
Leon sighed and shifted his weight between his feet. âYes. Thatâs pretty much itâwe don't know for sure how they got in, but theyâre in. We don't know how many there are, but this is why we need to get you to the bunker, sir.â Leon explained, his brows furrowed and his jaw set tight. He seemed so sure of what he was talking aboutâbut then again, he'd gone through a zombie outbreak before.
Iâd read the file on Raccoon City, and how he had been one of the few survivors, alongside a ten year old girl whose parents had been the masterminds behind the virus that had infected the city, and some woman named Claire Redfield. But there had been no other information on her within that fileâthe government had only picked up Leon and the girl.
I felt for Leonâfor the man he probably was before he got into this line of work. I could imagine him wanting to make a difference, a fresh-faced recruit ready to turn the world around with dreams of becoming a top-tier captain, maybe even the chief one day. But then, on his first day, he got thrown into the deep end.
That poor guy that he once had been had probably never imagined a life like this.
âLetâs get moving, everyone.â
Jason's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I cleared my throat, pulling out my piece from the holster on my waist and checking the bullets before following everyone out of the office. We moved in formationâJason and Leon taking the front, armed with assault rifles and mowing down whatever zombie they saw. The President and Wilson are in the middle, flanked by Secret Service agents and wearing bulletproof vests. Patrick, Shenmei and I brought up the rear, not having to fire a single bullet but still being ready just in case.
Rather, Shenmei and I were ready. Patrick was still muttering to himself, flinching at every single corpse that we passed.
âMr. President,â Jason said as we rounded the corner, descending the stairs toward the basement. âIs there anybody else here that is a part of your family? Whereâs Miss Graham?â
âAshley?â Warren asked, wide eyed and stammering slightly. He'd lost his daughter just over a year agoâthe thought of losing her again must be terrifying. âSheâs not hereâsheâs currently at home, living in an apartment near her school. Sheâs not in danger, is she?â
âSo long as she isn't here, sheâs not.â
We arrived at the bunker within ten minutes. Warren put in the code, and the door slid open on a whoosh of pressurised air. He and Wilson ducked inside alongside the Secret Service agents, whilst the rest of us lined up against the wall awaiting some kind of order from Jasonâhe had been assigned as the leader on this mission, and none of us saw fit to disagree.
So long as the enemy was neutralised at the end of the day, it didn't matter who our team leader was. As we stood against the wall at attention, I felt the brush of Leonâs suit jacket against my bare arm. I hiccuped on a soft breath, feeling the rapid tingle that spread down my arm like a virus.
Jason cleared his throat, addressing the rest of us. âOkay. Leon, Shenmeiâyou two are with me. Weâll meet up with SWAT and clear the remaining floors. Patrick, Hartwellâyou two will remain here in the bunker with the President. Do not open that door for anybody except for us, understood?â
âYeah.â I answered with a nod. Leonâs body heat seeped into me like a numbing toxinâhis hand was just a few inches from my own. I could so easily reach out and link my pinkie with hisâbut I shouldn't. I wouldn't. It wouldn't be right, despite the undeniable urge to touch him right now.
I had spent so long building myself back up again after that nightâafter that painful rejection. I was not going back there again.
âAlright.â Jason nodded. âLetâs get going then.â
We split. Patrick headed for the bunker and I moved to follow. Before I could shut the door I heard a voiceâhis voice, breathy and insistent. âBe safe.â It sent a rush of heat down my spine and caused my muscles to tighten in familiarity.
I looked back at him. He was looking at me in a way that had my heart fluttering in my chest for a split second before it splintered and shattered. Like a moth peacefully flying along before being drawn in by a bug zapper.
I knew that look.
It was the same look he had given me the first time he leftâback in Spain, when he was going to get the fuel for the boat so that we could cross the lake to find the key to the church. I could still feel the sweltering Spanish heat that trickled sweat down my back. I could still taste the tangy saliva on my tongueâcould still smell the stench of murky lake water, and felt the rapid thrum of my heart and the way my chest had constricted with every breath. I could hear the distant clamour of villagers searching for us, out of our blood.
Except now we weren't dealing with crazed, bloodthirsty villagers controlled by some kind of parasite. We were dealing with zombies.
But the sentiment still stood, the words he had said back then like a flash of nostalgia across my memories.
I don't plan on dying today.
âYou too.â I said back, my voice just as breathy. These were the first words I had said to him in over a year. I hadn't wanted to say anything at allâI had planned to try and get through this entire mission without uttering a single word to Leon besides the most basic of pleasantries.
But when he looked at me like thatâwhen he was about to walk back out into a war zoneâwhat else was I supposed to say?
#ao3 writer#resident evil#leon kennedy#ao3 fanfic#leon kennedy fanfic#leon s kennedy#fanfiction#leon kennedy x fem oc#oc x canon#dee hartwell#(gonna start tagging my oc in these posts too just bc)
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okay so the other night i had this super random dream that i received fanart of my oc x canon couple and when i woke up from the dream n realised it wasn't real i got all mad at myself
anyways
a VERY LOVELY person on reddit drew me some fanart and aaaaa !! seeing these two together makes my heart all happy !!

drawing by @thegreatphantomthief TYSM UR SO AMAZINGGGG
#ao3 writer#resident evil#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x fem oc#oc x canon#dee rambles#dee hartwell#fanart#if any of u guys wanna send me fanart of my oc x canon ships PLSSS DO I WANNA SEE MORE#plus i can't draw for shit so like !!! serotonin !!!!
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:( grandpa deserves all the love and head pats.
omg he does :( i loved writing his character sm we love supportive family members in this house
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TENNESSEE WHISKEY, STRAWBERRY WINE â CHAPTER 17 (AO3)
hey everyone! hope u all had an amazing easter, if u celebrate it! only a few more weeks of april left aaaaa.
these next few chapters are gonna be fun! lots of drama incoming, and i can't wait đŽâđ¨đŽâđ¨
full chapter here! || cw: smut in this chapter! (masturbation lol, only featured at the beginning.)
What was wrong with me?
Memories of last night flash through me like a fever, lit up in a golden haze and framed like the kind of movie that Iâd feel uncomfortable watching around my family. Sensations run deep in my nerves and veinsâthe feeling of his hands searing into my skin as they had pulled and tugged at my clothes, the warmth of his lips against my skin and that rasp of stubble that tickled me so deep.
The press of his bulge. I had felt as much as I could feel of him, as much as he gave me, and it still wasn't enough.
I need to feel the real thing now, something that would be so much better than stuffing my dildo into my pillowcase and grinding on it for some kind of reliefâ
âFuck,â I breathe out as quietly as I can as my body goes tight and my orgasm rips through me. It was not my proudest moment, getting myself off to nothing but memories, but here I am.
After the club, I hadnât felt like going back to Claireâs motel. I was feeling hurt, and confused, and also a little more than needyâthat kiss had been good, and I would have given him so much more if he had just let me.
Claire and Ashley were confused at first, but they understood when I asked if Chris could drop me back to the ranch. They didn't ask, but now that Iâm looking at their messages from last nightâI had put my phone on Do Not DisturbâI can tell straight away that they knew why I was so eager to get away from it all.
Claire: Do you need me to kill him?
Ashley: Hey, Dee. I hope youâre doing okay and that the hangover doesn't kill you offâinsert laugh-crying emojiâif you need anything, Iâm here for you! Claire too, we just wanna know youâre okay! Get back to us!
Claire: Because Iâm not afraid to kill him.
Claire: I even know where to hide the body.
I smile fondly for my supportive friends, letting them know Iâm alright and that I'll fill them in properly soonâI just need to figure out what is going on myself. I cringe slightly at the timeâfive in the morning, which isnât like me at all.
But, then again.. I hadnât really been sleeping. I couldnât sleep, not with the memory of that in my head, bouncing around my brain like a pinball. I hadnât felt anything like it. If I wasn't already wanting the guy, I definitely wanted him now.
All I had kept thinking about was that bulge. I had felt it through the denim of his jeans, rubbing right up against me in the most delicious way. My hands had burned, aching to touch it. I had imagined putting it in my mouth, letting him hit the back of my throat as he guided me like the perfect doll for his pleasure.
I would have been his doll, if he had let me.
Eventually laying there got to be too much. I felt like I needed to speak with him, to blurt it all out into the open whether he accepted me or notâI like you, and I know you like me, and youâre probably afraid of rocking the boat, but I donât care. But when I had called him, chewing my fingernails down to the bit as I listened to that dial tone, he hadnât answered.
Hey there, you've reached Leon. Kinda busy right now, so leave me a message after the beep and Iâll get back to you.
I hadnât left a message. I had just put my phone back on the nightstand and sunk deeper back into the void I had put myself in. And then, after a few minutes of that, I leaned over into my bedside drawer, grabbed my dildo and got to work.
All he had given me to work with was that bulge, so I would work with it here. I had grabbed one of my pillows, settling it between my knees before stuffing the dildo into the pillowcase to try and recreate that perfect bulge.
And then I rode it. I relied on my little creation, and the sound bytes my mind had managed to save in those few precious minutes of making out with himâgrowls, groans, heavy breathing, and any other kind of manly sound that sounded like something he would make during sexâto bring myself to that peak that I had never gotten to.
And then I had done it again because it still didn't feel like enough. And then a third time, because I thought that the third timeâs the charmâit fucking wasnât.
But, now I feel that not even this will work. My body is satedâmy thighs shake like I had been trapped in an earthquake and my nipples feel like someone had torn them off with their teeth, not to mention how that spot between my legs felt. My poor fucking folds have been put through the wringer, my clit that begs for the touch of something other than my handâthat begs for his hand.
I come down from that brain-melting climax, shaking my head as I move away from the pillow, taking the dildo out and putting it back in the drawerâI haven't officially used it, so I felt no need to clean it. However, I do take the pillowcase off of my pillow and throw itâalong with my utterly ruined cotton pantiesâtowards my door to take to the laundry basket.
Changing into some clean underwear, I pull on some jeans and a v-neck t-shirt before leaving my room. If grinding myself on a makeshift erection wasnât going to help clear my mind, I knew exactly what wouldâgoing for a ride.
As I walk through the house, dropping my dirty clothes in the laundry room and putting them in my hamper on the way, I hear the sounds of life coming from the kitchen. Grandpaâs phlegmy cough as he pulled his usual mug from the cabinet, the grinding of coffee beans in the machine, the clink of a spoon against ceramic.
I shuffle my way over to the fridge and grab the carton of orange juice, shaking it well before grabbing a glass from the draining board. Grandpa gives me a sideways glance, nodding his head in acknowledgement.
âMorning, pumpkin.â
âHey, Grandpa.â
The kitchen is tense. Grandpa tries to put on his usual smile, but I can see the hurt in his eyes. It gnaws at my gut, making me want to scream and cry and apologise to him for the way I had acted last night.
âSo.. about last night.â I begin.
When I had come in from the club, Grandpa had been awakeâhe had waited up for me, even though I had told everyone that I had plans to stay at Claireâs motel room. Grandpa had taken one look at my face and thought the worst, but I wasnât about to talk about it, so I had brushed him off and shut myself away like a sullen teenager.
Grandpa clears his throat, doing his best to hold my gaze. But those warm brown eyes seem to stare off more into the middle distance than really focus on me. I know whyâheâs probably still feeling the sting of my rejection, since Grandpa and I never really fightâand I never shut the door in his face, or anyoneâs for that matter.
âAre you feeling alright, pumpkin? Did.. did something happen to you when you were out?â His hands slowly clench into fists as I can see his mind imagining the worst. âDid someone try and hurt you?â
âNo.â
Iâm lying, of course. Someone had hurt me, and the worst part is I fucking let him. And I loved every single second of it and would gladly let him do it again.
âI just..â
I sigh deeply. I had never got to have these kinds of talks with Grandpaânever suffered this kind of heartbreak before that he could help me out with. The last time I had cried to him, I had skinned my knee when falling off of the old tyre swing in the yard. Heâd patched me up, kissed my knee to make me feel better then asked if I wanted the swing taken down.
I doubt that heâd react the same way if I tell him what had happened last night.
âYou know you can tell me anythingâright, pumpkin?â Grandpa mumbles, reaching over to rest a leathery weathered hand against my own trembling one. A lump lodges itself into my throat as I turn away from him to hide the stinging behind my eyes.
The words are right there on the tip of my tongue. I made out with Leon, yes, Leon the guy who works for you, and it felt so fucking good. But I can't say them.
I hang my head low, gripping the edge of the counter for leverage. âI just.. Iâm confused, Grandpa. Thereâs.. thereâs this guyââ
âOh.â
#ao3 writer#resident evil#leon kennedy#ao3 fanfic#leon kennedy fanfic#leon s kennedy#fanfiction#resident evil death island#older!leon#small town au#small town romance#cowboy!leon#cowboy!au
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I DON'T CARE IF (HEAVEN WON'T TAKE ME BACK) â CHAPTER 3 (AO3)
blasts daddy's home by usher at the loudest volume because FIRST LEON POV CHAPTER LETS GOOOOOO
it's actually a pretty short chapter tho lol like 2.9k words. not my shortest but a rather short one. still enjoyable, hopefully. the long chapters will come back soon tho.
full chapter here! if u enjoyed what ur reading so far, pls leave a comment or a kudos. even if it's just a random string of emojis or whatever, i'll still take it. and, alsoâhappy easter! :3
From up here in the helicopter, the city of Washington DC had never looked so small and serene before. It had never looked so quiet. It was just a dark blanket, filled with tiny little dots of light. It was peacefulâand it was I who kept that peace.
Or, ratherâI tried to.
Nobody would know what really happened until I drafted up my official report on the matter.
I was coming in from Pittsburgh. Iâd been called to investigate a bombing at the Carnegie Museum of Art a few days ago, which had killed a security guard. At first I had thought it was just a regular terror attackânot that âregular terror attacksâ were a good thing, but it was better than dealing with bioweapons. Dealing with zombies. The bombs used in the museum bombing as well as a previous bombing before I had gotten there had residuals of the t-virus in them.
The t-virus. The same virus created by Umbrella all those years ago, which had infected Raccoon City. The same virusâthe same corporationâthat had caused so much death and destruction the world over.
Pittsburgh had suffered an outbreak. First at the medical examinerâs office, then at the park. The bombings were caused by a group of radicals who called themselves the Population Control Movement. They had plans to infect the cityâthen the entire worldâbecause they believed that the world's population was growing too fast to keep up with the food supply.
I could agree with their sentiment. But I didn't like their way of dealing with it.
I had gotten there in time to stop the outbreaks, but I had lost a lot of good people on that mission. People who didn't deserve that endâpeople like Detective Pascazzi, and Director Schwartz. Good people. Brave people.
But I didn't have the time to mourn them. I had a new mission, so here I wasâheading toward the White House via chopper on the invitation by the President.
I was tired. I hadnât slept in nearly an entire day or so. And any sleep I had gotten was interrupted by panic-inducing nightmares. I had nightmares of Raccoon City, of South America, of Spain. So many missions, so many losses. So much death and destruction that I was never fast enough, or strong enough, to stop.
I had spent most of my nights in that Pittsburgh motel staring at the wall waiting for the sun to rise so that I could get back to work. Or, I threw myself into work, even though operating with a muddled head never really worked out well for anybody, least of all myself.
The pilot was busy speaking through his headset, and I had no idea what any of the lingo he was using meant. I wasn't a pilotâI preferred boots on the ground versus being in the air. However, I did understand it when the pilot turned to me with a smirk. âNever gotten clearance to land that fast before.â He said, a soft chuckle on his lips. I felt my lips curl into a slight frown. âYou must be pretty special.â
Special? What was so special about me?
Sure. Iâd saved the President's daughterâs life. Iâd successfully completed dozens of critical missions, and I knew what to do when the going got tough. I was brave. I was fearlessâso people said. I was special in the basic sense of the wordâI had notoriety. But what good was that when I had nothing to show for myself?
I wasn't special. I was a twenty-nine year old man who couldn't sleep without screaming the night away. I was miserable. I was tired. I was lonely.
And there was no amount of attempts to fill the void with other womenâyoung rookies who had heard my name and wanted a piece of me, an experienceâthat could ever replace the loss of her. The woman who was too golden for my own good. The woman who was too bright for a blight like me. A woman who didn't need me around.
I could have had her, if I had justâno. I refused to think of her any longer. I refused to dwell on what I had loved and lost.
Iâd spent too long doing that. Every damn day. But not a day longer.
I shook out my nerves, blowing out a breath as we descended down onto the helipad outside of the White House. Over the rush of the chopperâs blades and engine, the pilot wished me good luckâbut I didn't hear him, as I was already out and heading inside.
I had no idea what this new job was aboutâwhat it would entail. I had most likely missed the meetingânot that there had been a set time, but it had taken me an hour or so to get from Pittsburgh to Washington, so I could imagine that whatever meeting was held would need to be caught up on. I was sure it wouldn't take me long to find out what I needed to do.
My only hope was that I didn't have to kill anythingâor anyoneâelse tonight.
When I got inside via the main entrance, the first thing I noticed was that all of the lights were off. The place was eerily quiet. It set me immediately on edge, my adrenaline starting to spike in my veins as my eyes scanned the area. Silence like thisâdarkness like thisâwould usually be fine if it were late at night. But it wasn't even ten.
There wasn't a single soul in this place. Not an aide working late. Not a janitor burning the midnight oil. Something was off.
I reached for the holster at my back, sliding out my trusted handgun. The same one Iâd carried with me since my daysâmy dayâas a cop. Matilda. I pressed the mag release button and felt the magazine pop out into my hand smoothly and swiftly. I had a full stock of bullets, so I quickly reloaded and pulled back the slide. The click was satisfying. Switching the safety off, I blew out a slow breath before heading off toward the elevator.
My ears immediately latched onto the groaning that echoed along the empty hall. I stopped in my tracks immediately, my mind suddenly thrusting me back to that hallway in the RPD, just outside of the West Office. All those zombies. All those Lickers.
I grimaced, pushing the harrowing vision away and forcing myself to continue on. This wasn't the same.
I turned the corner, stopping in my tracks once more as I saw a woman blocking the rest of my path. She stood with her back to me, her shoulders hunched. Her fingers were poised like claws. Her messy blond hair had fallen out of the bun it must have been put up in. It fell around her shoulders in haphazard waves. Her pressed suit was torn and shredded.
I swallowed thickly as I heard that groaning againâthis time louder, coming from her. Lifting my gun, I set my sights on this mysterious woman. I breathed in. I breathed out.
âExcuse me. Maâam.â
I knew exactly what I was dealing with before the zombified woman had even turned around to launch herself onto me. I sucked in a breath against the smell of decay as I squeezed the trigger tight. My ears rang against the gunshot as blood splattered against the pristine checkerboard tile and against the sideboard.
The zombie fell at my feet with a thud, brain matter spilling out of the hole I had put in its head.
âFuck.â I cursed under my breath. My hands were starting to shake and my heart felt like a hummingbird, a woodpecker trying to jam its way out of my chest. I had to take a minute to catch my breathâto brace my hands against my knees and blink several times against my tunnelled vision.
Two questions raced through my mind at lightning speed. Firstâhow the fuck did zombies get into The White House? And secondâhow many more were there?
Footsteps drummed across the floor to my left, and I looked up to see two more zombies advancing on me. Suited men shuffling towards me with arms outstretched, their skin gray, their eyes clouded over. I dispatched them quickly, causing more blood to splatter across the walls. The smell of death and decay was stomach-churning, and the high-pitched screeching as each zombie fell took me right back to those familiar hallways. Right back to when I was fighting for my life.
Sweat drenched my skin as I broke into a run. My chest pinched tight, my heart lurching faster and faster as my adrenaline kicked in. I could feel the phantom weight of my uniform hanging off of me, my bulletproof vest covered in blood and guts and despair.
But I didn't have my vest on anymore. Nor did I bear the uniform of the Raccoon City police department. I was in my suitâa dark navy blue slacks and blazer and a white dress shirt. The same suit I had put on every single day since joining the agency. I didn't have any more protection, except for the skills that I had honed over the years.
The same skills I was currently using to clear my path.
âPress Secretary Spacer! Stop!â
I rushed toward the frightened voice. Turning the corner, I saw someone on the ground. He had his hands held up against the zombie that was scrambling for him. There was shattered glass sticking out of the zombieâs limbs, which I quickly gathered was from the chandelier that had crashed to the floor.
#ao3 writer#resident evil#leon kennedy#ao3 fanfic#leon kennedy fanfic#leon s kennedy#fanfiction#leon kennedy x fem oc#resident evil infinite darkness
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OMG STOP i just ate my phone what?????
đđđđ i mean i'll take that reaction lol
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