where the residents are nice

I will do...

- romantic, platonic or family dynamics/relations

- trans headcanons, otherwise queer headcanons

- both sfw and nsfw, various kinks included

- readerxcanon

... but I won't do...

- extreme kinks; I will generally reserve the right to deny a request if it includes a fetish/sexual scenario i dont want to write about

- incest and/or harmful paraphilia

- yandere reader/character and associated themes (kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, torture etc.)

- Real person fiction

... and i am currently writing for the following fandoms and characters:

RESIDENT EVIL:

- Ethan Winters

- Leon Kennedy

- Luis Serra

- Rebecca Chambers

- Albert Wesker

- Carlos Oliveira

- Ashley Graham

- Ingrid Hunnigan

SILENT HILL:

- Harry Mason

- James Sunderland

- Maria (SH2)

- Pyramid Head

LIKE A DRAGON / YAKUZA:

If you do want to make a request, please include some details such as readers gender/pronouns, setting/scenario and character it includes - the more the better :) thank you for reading!

- pretty much every noteworthy male character from y0 to y7 (including Ishin!), ask for the girls :) im including the judgement series in this as well.

The world was just beginning to fade into a hazy blur of warmth and background noise coming from the TV before the rumble of thunder outside your family home brutally snaps you back into your current time. 

You shift below the blanket you and your husband like to share to snuggle up closer to him, hand in hand with your arm pressing against his until each of you notice how warm the other is. He begins to dip his head until you can feel him resting against your shoulder, and his scarred, unoccupied hand begins to wander below the blanket until it finally rests on your thigh. “It’s not too scary, is it?” he whispers to you, certainly not referencing the storm roaring outside. The branches knocking against your window and the rustling of leaves rustling over your yard couldn’t bother Ethan less as long as he knows you’re home and holding onto his hand.

He seems more so interested in the cheap horror-flick the both of you chose for tonight’s movie night. Despite the questionable and outdated special effects, you can see his body do little twitches and sharp intakes of breath whenever an actor is jumpscared along with the audience, reaching for the popcorn bowl in his lap so he has something to hold except for you. While his eyes were glued to the screen with his knuckles resting against his lips in a subconscious effort to soothe himself, you couldn’t help but drift off a little. Your eyelids are heavy after a long day of work, and napping against your partner would’ve been a dream come true if it weren’t for the ongoing thunderstorm. Lightning strikes once more outside, close enough to be audible, and not long after you finally muster up the energy to respond with “No, it’s alright, love…”. Truth is, the both of you enjoy trashy movies, even more so if they’re meant to scare you but end up making you laugh instead. You’ve only been so quiet because you’re actively fighting the urge to fall asleep against Ethan, especially now that his head is on your shoulder. 

Right next to your ear, Ethan hums in response. “I don’t know about you, but… this movie isn’t it.” He begins to mumble, shuffling closer to you on the couch, if that is even possible. By now, there is a whole third of the couch unused. “I don’t know… I guess B-class acting lost its appeal.” He explains, huffing out a little laugh at his own comment. You respond with an affirmative hum of your own. Before you can react, his face is buried in the crook of your neck, his cold nose pressed against your skin. Another minor detail to keep you awake, just what you need.

His hands begin to wander again, bumps moving across the blanket where his hands glide until you finally feel one of his palms on your stomach, then both of them wrapped around your waist in a loose hug. The wind howls loud enough to be heard over the TV by now - good thing you have a DVD player. The both of you could’ve gone to bed right away tonight if you relied on streaming services; the internet bid its goodbyes an hour ago, not long after the rain started. You probably wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for Ethan’s curses coming from his home office. No emails, no text messages, and there haven’t been any calls either. It really is just the two of you, now that Ethan’s boss can’t nag him.

“I’m getting tired, handsome…” he finally admits, and you can feel a smile stretching his lips right against your skin. Here, he feels safest, and you do too. “I’m not sure if I can last much longer. You?” You only respond with another hum, shrugging as far as Ethan’s body allows you. “Alright.” he whispers in response. “Let’s just… try to finish the movie. If we can’t, we’ll continue tomorrow.” You could also just go to bed right away, but it is way too comfortable to stand up right now, and the both of you are well aware. It feels like Ethan only wants to finish the movie tonight to have an excuse to stay pressed against you, to spend time with you… not that you mind.

A scream comes from the TV’s speakers, which has been happily babbling by itself for the past few minutes. “Thank god, finally.” Ethan breathes out as both of your heads turn towards the screen, eyes still drowsy. “I knew it. I’ve been waiting for this fucker to get offed since the beginning of the movie… christ he was annoying.” He says, partially muffled by the blanket around you two as the annoying character in question gushes bright red on screen, spraying and splattering in ways only liters of fake blood can. “Not sure why this guy is a fan favorite. His decisions are nonsensical, and now that things get serious, he runs? Yeah, great. leave the group behind. Way to go, dumbass.” While you can’t help but find your spouse’s half-hearted complaints and sass endearing, you’re too tired to respond by now. You only smile in response, readjusting your arm so it's wrapped around Ethan now, your hand close to his hip. You adjust the blanket so it covers his legs properly before you close your eyes, letting the dialogue and gentle buzz from the TV together with the rain pattering against your window take you under. The last thing you notice is Ethan’s wedding ring gleaming in the light coming from the screen.

It doesn’t take long for him to catch onto it. He chuckles as the movie’s hero almost comically fails to escape in every possible way, and as he turns to see your reaction, he finds your eyes closed instead and your lips curved in a satisfied smile. He lowers the TV’s volume and puts the remote and empty popcorn bowl down on the couch table as quietly as he can before getting himself more comfortable. He kisses your forehead goodnight, his cold lips barely grazing your skin to avoid waking you before he slides lower on the couch, curled up against your side with his face almost completely hidden by the blanket draped over the two of you. 

The credits begin to roll as only your soft snores and the rain can be heard. It’s dark by now, and if it weren’t for the people listed in the credits and the occasional car driving through the mud outside, Ethan could swear you’re the only people in the world right now. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep, counting sheep replaced by the TV counting down the seconds in a little pop-up to know when it will shut itself off to save energy.

If it were up to him, he’d spend all day pressed up against his man like this, soaking up the heat emanating from his body and listening to his breathing slow down, overshadowed by the rain and Ethan’s own pulse in his ears.

Leon & Scientist!Reader

Finding a cure for anything within current times is hard, of course. If anyone is intelligent enough to realize that, it’s probably you. Once a junior scientist held in high esteem by one of the bigger pharmaceutical companies in the area, you’re now forced to dig through the rubble of what was once lined up office spaces and laboratories, the logo of the company you worked for looming over you from what is left of the buildings as if it were threatening to crash down on you one day. That doesn’t stop you from trying, however, much to the dismay of most of the people who used to be your higher ups. You feel like there is constantly someone on your back, just waiting for you to be careless so they can strike down your attempts to help - that is all you wanted to do, but it seems as if right now, helping earns you more enemies than it does allies.

Leon is among the very few individuals you trust enough to tag along. He found you, crawling through what was once a cooling room, the glass of what used to be syringes and test tubes crackling below your weight as you scour for anything that could be of use later. The place was positively trashed as the scene was fled just a few months ago during the initial outbreak, but you decided to come back anyway, always on the lookout for anything that moves and anything that breathes. You nearly passed out from the shock when suddenly, Leon stood behind you, telling you to raise your hands while you could only hear his heavy boots on the tiled floor and the click of his safety catch. It made the hairs on your nape stand.

It used to be a little hard to get a proper read on Leon. He was quiet at first, too busy keeping an eye on your surroundings as well as you while he was escorting you out of the building. What if you were infected after all? What if it is just an elaborate trap to get him out of the picture? There was always a shadow of suspicion following him around. However, you get it. They’re out to get you once you’ve seen too much, and you and Leon perfectly fit the picture. It gets easier to spend time around each other once the both of you let the realization sink in.

Ever since, you’re a duo like no other. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s a grown ass man, you’d say he’s attached to your hip; like a gun ready to be pulled when you’re in a tight spot. That is most he does when he follows you, actually: showing off his combat skills when it gets dicey. You’re thankful, of course, but you also managed to do it just fine on your own… or at least, that’s what you’d like to say. Truth is, you almost got your head crushed one or two times in the past because you were too focused on a gleam coming from a crack too tiny to put your arm in than on the dangerously tipped storage cabinet barely supported by said crack. Leon is just the guy for the job: holding up furniture, fighting off the infected, hell, ever since he’s warmed up to you, he even likes to joke around, hoping to get a laugh from you despite the differences in humor.

Leon can be stern with you, too. It doesn’t feel right to call it scolding, but he will furrow his brows and tell you to be more careful at even the slightest injury. He also insists on bandaging you up if things get bloody, not letting you do it yourself. If you push and complain hard enough, all he’ll do is raise his eyebrows in surprise, hold up his hands defensively and take a few steps back to let you do your thing - and to partially to keep himself from raising his voice. He would usually follow it up with a little quip too, just to defuse the tension, but also to see your reaction. His smug expression betrays him right before he drops the dreaded “Right, you’re the doctor-” before you have to remind him for what feels like the hundredth time that you’re not a doctor, as if the lack of a doctorate still matters now.

While he doesn’t know much about “science-stuff”, as he calls it, Leon knows enough to join the conversation. He likes to join you at your desk, asking questions and pointing at your equipment in the dark of the night, only illuminated by the wiry desk lamp and occasionally his flashlight when he gets bored. There have been times he fell asleep right next to you, too, snoring softly with his head hanging low and his lips slightly parted. He smiles gently and congratulates you with friendly shoulder bumps and pats on your back whenever you’ve made a new breakthrough or discovery in your research. His support is the most valuable you could get right now, especially since he’s competent enough to go out and get more supplies for you without, well, dying along the way. You have found your own kind of normalcy as the city around you gets rebuilt over time, a cure closer than it seems thanks to your sleepless nights and Leon’s eagerness to help. 

════════════════════════════════════

Luis & Agent!Reader

You decided to take the harder path in life, it seems, but it was never really a decision, per se. You’re merely a product of your surroundings and circumstances… but it certainly was a decision when you took on your very first job to steal. It could just be a one time thing, right? A swipe of your hand when nobody seemed to look in exchange for cash that’s worth twice the amount of whatever you have to take. Your career took a dark turn once you realized that there is no coming back from the downward spiral that becomes clearer as your jobs go from theft to smuggling to assassination. So, the only solution is to keep going, to keep your head up high and to not look back. Let the paycheck distract you.

A new job you had the pleasure of coming across is significantly more risqué, but also rewarding like no other. Your enigmatic new ‘employer’, if you could even call it that, sends you out to kidnap someone in exchange for protection. Not a first, exactly, but something tells you this is much more serious than your previous jobs. Now here you are, brushing the dust from the abandoned factory building’s roof off of your shoulder as ex-Umbrella scientist Luis Sera sits in front of you, struggling against the bindings supposed to keep him still while the empty potato sack obscuring his vision muffles his grunts. Not his first kidnapping, judging by the way he doesn’t even try to call and scream for help.

Luis groans in confusion as his brain slowly recovers from the Rohypnol you used to make him pliant and easy to carry. His eyes get adjusted to the spotlight shining directly at him, and for a second, the both of you make eye contact. You step out of the way before the laptop you set up takes a picture of your newest (and only) captive, ready to send it to your boss. “Mierda…” is all you hear from Luis for a long time, slurred as he immediately looks around for any means of escape. Yes, this guy definitely has experience. But why him? Upon first look, he just looks like any other biologist you had to sneak past. Lab coat, eye rings, the stubble that comes once self care becomes luxury in the face of deadlines.

You’re quick to find out that Luis is talkative, effectively destroying one of the very few scientist stereotypes you were aware of. Some people talk just to calm their nerves, but if he does it for that reason, he’s very skilled at keeping up the facade of extroversion. Some attempts of “Care to tell me where we are?” followed by a quiet “Eh, not the talking type, I see…” before he goes silent again for… what, 5 minutes? You almost regret pulling the potato sack from his head. He even asks for a cigarette at some point, to which you scoff in reply.

Hours pass as you realize that you’re not here to scare him or to “get him out of the picture”, so to speak - you’re on a mission to hide him. You aren’t given more details by your boss, except that you should probably keep Luis tied up. You’re more open to conversation now that you know you’re stuck with him for… unspecified time. Once you give him some input on the current situation, leaning onto the shoddy table behind you to get comfortable, you see him relax visibly. “Ahh, so you can talk! Was getting afraid we didn’t speak the same language.” he teases, a smug expression decorating his face now. He seems like an entirely different person now. And the worst part? He sees right through you, despite your attempts to remain calm and quiet. “I’m starting to feel like I know more about this situation than you do…” The hint is all he needs to earn himself a glare over your shoulder as you hope for further instructions appearing on the screen in front of you.

Your hands are less than gentle after an hour of convincing that he won’t run off leads to you cutting open his bindings. “Thank you.” Is all he mumbles before standing up, idly wiping his thighs and stretching his legs. It isn’t exactly professional to deny the orders given to you, but he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to initiate fist fights. He runs circles in the small room, patting his jacket for a lighter and his pants for the cigarettes to match before lighting himself one, exhaling smoke into the cold air surrounding you. The evening continues like that. You can’t help but be… charmed by him and the way he hums to himself as well as by his useless attempts at conversation with you. He occasionally looks over your shoulder, nagging you with a “There’s a far more efficient way to use-” as he reaches out for your keyboard while you can only watch and rest. It’s not like he’s checking your messages or anything, right? Occasionally he wanders off too far, followed by the noise of metal on metal and the shuffling of feet as he explores the building, only to find his way back to you.

The candles decorating your cake are no longer lit, ribbons of smoke floating past your nose on the way to the ceiling, bumping against the helium balloons resting there. The isolated noise of clapping and a happy cheer comes from behind you for a moment before the light switch is inevitably flicked, flooding your eyes with light that makes you squeeze them shut for a little longer than a blink.

This whole situation is completely unexpected to you, for some reason. Leon has teamed up with your parents to throw a surprise birthday party the second you come home from your work, and up until the door to your apartment opened, you didn’t notice a thing.

You did not figure out why there was an oddly fragile looking box in the trunk of Leon’s car that he didn’t want you to throw your bag into, nor did you see a point in letting him drive you home; you only gave in because he insisted. You also didn’t know why your parents were trying to call Leon pretty much all the time on your way home. He just shrugged it off as “Huh, looks like I forgot my jacket at their place.”, and he was lucky enough that it only earned him a laugh instead of further questions as to why he was at your parent’s place to begin with. Now you know better: The mystery box held your birthday cake, fresh from the bakery, and your parents were calling Leon nonstop to announce that they’re stuck in traffic on the way to your apartment, which explains why Leon is the only other person next to your table right now, a little party hat strapped to the top of his head in glittery shades of blue and silver.

It is your birthday and pretty much half of the town knows, but you also made sure to move the actual party to the weekend. Anything to make sure your friends actually have time; you don’t want to hear any of those “I have a shift that day” excuses. It is a shame that your parents won't be able to make it today, but you also don’t want them to be there when your friends are there on the weekend. You had plans with them that go further than spin the bottle and birthday cake, and you’d hate to have your parents watch you get shitfaced on a Sunday evening despite having to work the next day.

Another thing that seemingly flew past you is how Leon seems a little off today. Now that the light is finally on, it is clear as day: He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, and once he finally leans in to hug you along with saying his best birthday wishes right next to your ear, you can hear the beating of his heart over his voice. It hammers against his chest as if it wants to jump out and run. You chalk it up to anxiety about you noticing that he’s preparing a surprise; it does take a lot to set things like this up, which means that it is only natural for him to be nervous about you finding out beforehand, right? But why is he still nervous, then?

“So…” Leon begins once his back is straight again, with his palm still lingering on your shoulder. “Wanna tell me what you wished for?”

There is a sort of hopeful glint in his eyes that he desperately tries to keep hidden behind his usually confident smile. Yes, you finally figured out why he’s been so anxious today… a secret present.

Well, you’re right this time… sort of.

You grin up at him. “I can’t tell you,” you say in a lilting tone, leaning back a bit further in your chair to see his reaction. Oh yeah, you’ve totally got him now. “... but, I think you can help it come true by telling me what your secret is.” you say as you cross your legs with a confidence that is usually only reserved for higher ups.

There is a twitch in Leon’s lower eyelids as his expression slightly falls. “Hold on, are you serious?” he suddenly says. “I was- we’re on the same page here, right? I don’t want to overcomplicate things-” The words fall from his mouth as if he’d been holding onto them for too long, but you had him figured out from the very start, didn’t you? No wonder he’s been so fidgety all evening, you can practically smell the decorated and wrapped gift box he’s hiding under his jacket.

He laughs nervously, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a faux display of ease. “Well, it’s been a while since I had something serious, much less with another guy, and I feel like you’ve been throwing hints at me for a while now, but I just didn’t know when to bring it up, you know?” He goes on, his eyes focused on you, as if you’ll dissolve if he looks anywhere else but you. You’re starting to catch the feeling that this is more than just a present, and it leaves you just a bit stunned, too dumbfounded to speak as Leon explains himself, keeping up the cool exterior aside from a few drops of sweat right above his brow. 

“... But I also don’t want to ruin your birthday, I don’t want you to feel like your birthday was shitty this year. If you’re not interested in me, that’s fine, we can forget about all this,” He continues to ramble as you stare up at him. Oh. Your lips part in a silent gasp as the realization hits you in the face. “It's just that you're my best friend, and lately you’ve been on my mind a lot, and I catch myself thinking about what it would be like if we were to get closer…” He explains himself gently, lowering himself down to his knees to reverse your positions, to get closer, much like he just said.

Feelings begin to overwhelm you as he rambles on, making up excuses and finding a way to express that he’d be able to shrug it off if you told him that you don’t feel the same, a lie obvious to anyone but you. You don’t know about the countless nights he thought about this, wide awake as he sorts the words in his head to have them ready whenever he deems himself ready to confess. How to make it look effortless, how to cope with what would happen if you told him off. He was honestly prepared for everything.

You do feel the same, though. You have felt the same since the both of you started spending more time together, charmed by his wit and empathy, despite his struggles to express the latter. In this very moment, you feel as if something is squeezing your heart. The thought of losing him chokes your soul, and before he can make the offer to “Take you out on a date first”, to “test the waters, see if you want the same”, you squeeze your eyes shut in preparation, grab him by the collar of his jacket and pull him up high enough to press your lips against his, effectively shutting him up before his thoughts spiral further.

His eyes widen in shock, needing a second to process the sudden action before his eyelashes flutter shut, his hands reaching out to hold onto your lower arms, as if he would fall into the ground otherwise. You spend a few seconds like this, his body almost boneless as he relaxes into the kiss before you make the first move to pull back, breathless and surprised by your own initiative as Leon seemingly needs a second to come back to reality. You’re usually not the brash type, but you physically felt like you had no other choice.

“I thought-” you begin, breaking yourself off as your thoughts need to catch up to your mouth due to the lack of oxygen. “I didn’t know, Leon!” is the only thing you manage to say, eyes fixated on the other man’s lips because you can barely help the urge to do that again.

Leon smiles in reply once his brain begins to function again. “Well,” he starts before needing to clear his throat to continue. “You also didn’t know there was a whole-ass surprise party planned…” His hands idly stroke up and down your forearms where he has been holding onto you, unsure if it is to soothe you or himself. Before he can throw any more snark at you, you scoff and kiss him again, this time keeping your eyes open to watch his reaction. He responds by shutting his own in enjoyment, slow and relaxed, as if a heavy weight got lifted off of his shoulders.