You, a mildly sleep-deprived writer with a chronic AO3 addiction and a caffeine intake that would alarm most doctors, post thirst-fueled Resident Evil fanfiction during ungodly hours. Your favorite subject? One infamously silent, masked Umbrella operative known only as "HUNK." What you don’t know is that the actual, very real HUNK has stumbled across your account... and has been binge-reading your archive like it’s classified mission intel. His off-days now consist of black coffee, knife maintenance, and quietly spiraling over your latest smut-filled update.
Scene Start:
The secure Umbrella command center was eerily quiet, lit only by the dim blue glow of a computer monitor. The hum of servers filled the room like a distant storm. HUNK—yes, the Grim Reaper—sat stoically in full tactical gear. His mask was on. His gloves tapped rhythmically against the keyboard as he leaned into the screen. His mission debriefing? Complete, filed with terrifying efficiency. His field report? Flawless, naturally. His kill count? So high even HR pretends the file doesn't exist.
His current objective?
"Chapter 14: Tactical Submission — Part 2."
He clicked.
"The air was thick with tension as she shoved HUNK against the wall. 'You’re always in control,' she growled. 'Let’s see how you like following orders for once.'"
He tilted his head.
“…Damn,” he muttered, his voice muffled under the helmet.
He was about to continue when the door to the control room hissed open.
“Yo, you comin’ to the briefing or—?” an operative started, holding a clipboard.
HUNK shut his laptop with spine-snapping speed.
“No.”
The operative blinked. “You… okay, boss?”
“…Tactical reasons,” HUNK replied flatly, standing stiff as a board.
You, in pajamas, sipping from a chipped mug that reads “#1 Simp,” while giggling at the notification: *New Kudos from SilentReaper95.*
You have absolutely no idea that the subject of your 40k-word “masked mercenary angst erotica saga” is not only real but has read every word. Twice. Judging. Blushing. All while claiming he never removes his helmet... is out there... Reading... Judging... Blushing under a helmet he claims not to take off. Ever.
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