Yo

It started with cookies.

You’d been in the middle of baking a double batch- oatmeal chocolate chip, your personal favorite- and realized halfway through scooping them onto the tray that you’d made far too many for one person. It wasn’t unusual. Baking was how you coped with stress, and ever since you’d moved into this apartment building, stress had been in no short supply.

The guy in 3A had blared music all night. Your hot water barely lasted five minutes. And your smoke detector had developed a habit of chirping at odd hours.

But there was one bright spot- your neighbors in 3C.

You’d seen them coming and going. Tall, broad, and always carrying duffel bags that looked far too heavy to be legal. They kept odd hours, too, but never caused trouble. One of them- Johnny, you’d learned later- had even held the door open for you when your arms were full of groceries.

Which was why you’d stood outside their door that evening, balancing a plate of cookies and feeling like an idiot as you knocked.

Not-Johnny had answered first, blinking down at you in surprise, though his smile was warm and he was beautiful. You couldn’t blame him; you had barely spoken to them more than a few short words.

“Uh… hi?”

“Hi.” You forced a smile. “I’m your neighbor from 3B. I, uh… made too many cookies?”

His eyes dropped to the plate immediately, and you swore you saw something primal flicker behind them. Still, you worried.

“I mean, if you don’t want-”

“No! No, we want. Come in- Johnny! Get over here!”

And that was how it started.

The second time had been lasagna.

You’d just finished assembling it when you realized- again- that you’d made too much. So, after psyching yourself up for ten minutes, you’d knocked on their door for the second time in as many weeks.

Price, who had introduced himself along wuth Simon the day you dropped off the cookies, had answered that time, his expression guarded until he saw the foil-covered pan in your hands.

“You’re joking,” he’d said, but when you started to retreat, he’d stopped you with a firm, but gentle hand on your back. He had such a nice, big hand. “Don’t be ridiculous, lovie. Get in here.”

That night, you’d sat at their table, sharing stories and laughter while they cleaned the dish down to the last crumb.

After that, it became routine.

You started “testing recipes,” and they became your eager guinea pigs.

And they never seemed to mind.

And now…

The smell hit first- roasted garlic, browned butter, and something rich simmering low and slow. It snuck out from the slightly cracked kitchen window and spilled into the shared hallway of the apartment building. For men used to MREs and takeout, it was practically siren song.

Gaz was the first to notice, lingering just outside the door labeled 3B- your door- with an almost predatory focus. He wasn’t proud of it, but his stomach growled so loud that Soap- rounding the corner with a gym bag slung over his shoulder- laughed outright.

“You stalking the neighbor again?”

“Shut up. You smell that?”

Soap inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered shut for a beat before snapping open.

“Jesus wept- what is that?!”

“I don’t know, but I’m this close to knocking.” Kyle held up his fingers, barely an inch apart.

“She already fed us last week, mate. Dinna push it.”

“But what if she’s testing another recipe?”

Gaz wasn’t wrong. You had a habit of showing up at their door with dishes too good to refuse.

They hadn’t stood a chance.

After the cookies and the lasagna, it wasn’t long before other dishes followed: casseroles, soups, pies, and even homemade bread. And the worst part? You bow always prefaced it by saying you needed an opinion- like they were doing you the favor.

It wasn’t until Price called you a “bloody saint” over a pan of enchiladas that Ghost finally put it together.

“You’re using us as taste testers.” He’d said flatly.

You’d grinned- too cute and too smug for your own good. “Is that a problem?”

Not a single one of them had said no, just as stated before.

Which led them here, hovering outside your door and pretending they weren’t waiting for another offering.

“… Fine.” Soap muttered, raising his hand to knock.

But the door swung open before he could, and there you were- apron on, hair pulled back, and flour dusted across your cheek.

“Hi!” You chirped, eyes bright. “Perfect timing!”

Gaz’s grin was pure relief. “Tell me you need opinions. Please, love.”

You laughed, stepping aside to let them in. “I always need opinions. Come in!”

Inside, the kitchen was chaos. Cutting boards and mixing bowls were scattered across the counters. A Dutch oven bubbled on the stove, releasing clouds of savory steam. Plates of food- half-assembled sandwiches, stuffed peppers, and what looked like chocolate tarts- sat waiting.

“I… might’ve gone overboard.” You admitted, and if you hadn’t spent all day in the kitchen, your cheeks would’ve gone warmer.

Soap whistled low, eyes raking over every dish. “Not complainin’.”

Price arrived just then, texted by Kyle, trailed closely by Simon, who took one look at the spread and froze. His eyes swept from the roasted chicken resting under a blanket of fresh herbs to the still-warm biscuits stacked beside a bowl of honey butter.

“What’s the occasion?” John asked, smile amused, but you just waved him off.

“Practicing.”

Gaz was already halfway to the table, trying to decide what to start with, but Simon lingered, watching you carefully. He had his balaclava on, though you haven’t yet dared to ask why he wears it.

“Practicing for what, exactly?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your apron. “There’s this… thing next week. A community bake-off. And I thought it might be fun to enter.”

Soap arched a brow. “You’re entering this in a bake-off?”

“Well, not all of it. I’m still deciding which dishes to use.”

“You’re winning.” Kyle said immediately, filling his plate.

“Definitely.” Johnny added, already reaching for a sandwich.

Simon, still lingering, crossed his arms and stared down at you. His height will never, ever not make your breath hitch. “You’re testing all of this on us?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, pouting just a little. “You don’t mind, do you, Simon?”

His gaze darkened- not in anger, but something softer, heavier. It made your stomach flip.

“No,” he said simply. “We don’t mind.”

You swallowed and turned quickly to the oven to hide the heat rushing to your cheeks.

The next hour passed in a blur of taste testing, arguments over which dish was best, and repeated assurances that you were going to “blow the competition out of the water.” But beneath the laughter and teasing, you failed to catch the way they looked at you- how Price lingered by the stove just to steal extra bites, or how Johnny kept offering to help, hovering close enough that you brushed elbows more than once.

And Simon? He was the worst of all. He didn’t say much, but his eyes tracked your every move, following the way your hands worked the dough or wiped flour off the counter. He was the last to leave, hanging back as the others helped clear plates.

“You’re serious about this bake-off?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “Thought it might be fun.”

“You don’t need it.”

“… What?”

He gestured at the now-empty plates. “To prove anything, I mean. You’re already…” He trailed off for a few seconds, and though you were left blinking at him, you didn’t rush him. “Good enough.” he murmured at last.

The compliment hit harder than you expected, and for once, you didn’t have a clever response.

“Thank you, Simon. That… means a lot to me.” you said softly.

And just like that, the others reappeared, breaking the moment. Johnny patted Simon’s shoulder with a knowing smirk, and Kyle slung an arm around your shoulders, while Price merely watched. Your kitchen was now spotless, cleaned by them.

“When’s the next test run?” Gaz asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Well, let us know. We’re free anytime.”

“Yeah,” Soap added. “Anytime.”

You laughed but this time, you didn’t miss the way Price was looking at you- thoughtful, like he’d already made up his mind about something.

The door clicked shut behind them after that, leaving your apartment quieter but no less warm. The scent of roasted garlic and herbs still lingered, and you found yourself smiling as you surveyed the spotless kitchen. They’d made quick work of the mess, trading jokes and lighthearted jabs as they wiped down counters and stacked dishes in quite the uniform style.

You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve neighbors like them, but you weren’t about to question it.

You caught yourself humming as you tucked away the last plate, the sound of their laughter still echoing faintly in your ears. It was easy with them- comfortable in a way that felt rare and almost too good to be true.

And maybe it was.

Because what you didn’t know- what you would probably never know, such a sweet and trusting thing- was that your apartment had been wired within days of your first visit to their door.

To them, it had started with a conversation.

“She’s alone,” Price had said after the second time you’d brought them food, leaning back in his chair with a contemplative frown. “No sign of anyone else coming or going.”

“Security’s shite.” Gaz had added, gesturing vaguely toward the shared hallway where your lock barely functioned half the time.

Soap had shrugged, easygoing as ever, but his eyes had been sharp. “Better us keep an eye on her than let some arsehole get the chance.”

And that was that.

Price had ordered the equipment, Ghost had handled the installation, and none of them had lost sleep over it. Not when it meant keeping you safe.

It wasn’t just the cameras, either.

Simon had reinforced your locks under the guise of “fixing” them after you mentioned a struggle with your key. Johnny had talked you into letting him check your windows “just to be sure they latched properly.” Gaz had set up an app on your phone to “monitor deliveries,” though it also let them track your location if needed.

And Price? He always lingered at the door just long enough to ask if you needed anything else- subtle, but enough to make sure you knew they were there.

You never questioned it. Never noticed the way they moved like a unit around you, anticipating problems before they could arise. Never caught the glances they exchanged when you mentioned a repairman or the way Simon hovered near the window any time a car idled too long outside.

You just kept feeding them, trusting them in ways that only made their resolve deepen.

Price was the worst.

He’d leaned against the counter tonight, watching you laugh at Johnny’s jokes and swat at Kyle when he tried to sneak extra bites, and the thought had hit him harder than he expected, while Simon watched on in amusement and was the only to successfully swipe a few more bites.

They could’ve had this already.

If life had gone differently- if timing had been better- you could’ve been his. Theirs. Someone to come home to instead of just someone they visited between deployments.

He hadn’t said anything, of course. None of them had.

But as they left, he’d lingered in the doorway, letting his hand rest lightly against the frame.

“Don’t let ‘em eat it all before the bake-off,” he’d teased, lips curling into a smile. “They’ll start begging if you do.”

You’d laughed, and God, it was dangerous how much he liked the sound.

“I’ll make sure to keep them in line.”

His smile softened. “Good girl.”

You didn’t notice the way Simon shot him a sharp look at that- or the way Johnny and Kyle exchanged knowing grins.

And later, when Price sat down in front of the monitors to check the feeds, he didn’t let himself feel guilty.

Because you were safe.

Anyways! It got me thinking of Omega!reader who...is the stereotypical omega — sweet, kind, submissive. All soft edges and sweet eyes. But people tend to not clock you as an omega right away from the self confidence you portray.

Going out for a drink at some random bar, the 141 pack zones in on you, sitting there with some friends, laughing. When one of them steps closer to you? You're wafting out pheromones, consciously puffing up with an easy smile, it's authority in a way they're not used to — it's not the authority of a leader, captain or pack alpha.

It's the authority of a caretaker. Of who you feel deep in your bones you should be worshipping. You make quick work of having the whole pack around your fingers, and they don't even stop to think about how they're all puppy eyes and ready to please just after a few chats with you.

Even worse, when you pay for your bill and smile at them, telling them to "be good and don't get in trouble, yeah?" Before leaving.

They didn't get your number, barely got your name, but they're all ready to be good and don't get in trouble, because you said so, and they wouldn't want you dissapointed at them, even the pack alpha felt dizzy with the need to please you and follow your command.

captain price, who believes he's found the perfect addition for his trusted pack of alphas on his forced leave.

it isn't his fault, though. he wasn't trying to find an omega for himself nor his men; he certainly doesn't mean to go prowling after you through downtown once he catches a whiff of your enticing saccharine scent unmated and ripe, and so ready to be plucked and shaped into the perfect little mate for himself and his pack.

his wolf is howling and snarling inside his chest, and it's something he hasn't experienced since he was but a youngling fresh out of officer training, still brimming with testosterone and eager to spend his ruts with even more eager omegas back then.

however, price knows that he did actually find the perfect match, when he finally pounces, cornering you in a crowded coffee shop until you're blinking up at him with sparkling doe-eyes, nose twitching as you sniff his scent discreetly, clutching your sweet hibiscus tea between soft hands.

curious yet timid. hand-tame. uncollared.

the alpha in him is as elated by your initial reaction as he's furious about your lack of self-preservation and survival instinct.

"gonna havt'a work on that, princess," he growls into your ear as he mounts you that night, laying his first claim on you; one big paw wrapped around the nape of your neck as he fucks his knot past your sopping entrance.

"can't have ya chat up any other random alpha bloke from now on, ya hear? you're under my protection now, love."

you're whimpering and whining as you nod weakly, pushing your supple hips back to shove his throbbing cock deeper into your quivering channel, desperate to feel him all the way up in your guts or so it seems.

all while the captain's eyes are zeroed in on that taunting, virgin mating gland located on the side of your neck.

his canines itch, his jaw ticks, ready to snap and bite as his mouth fills with saliva that he forces himself to swallow.

claiming you as his mate is inevitable, he just wants his boys to be there when he does.

・:〃MASTERLIST

18+ | CoD Hybrid AU; surprise soulmates; mating

× part 1

× part 2

× part 3

× part 4

× part 5

The first time you invited Gaz over, his eyes immediately went to the giant, crochet ditto sitting on the couch. His eyes went wide, not evening trying to act like he was hearing anything you said. “..um, Kyle?” Your eyes follow his and heat rises to your face. “Oh, I can uh.. I can understand if you wanna go..” you say, your voice so defeated and sad. So many past dates almost disgusted with your plushie because “they’re for kids, not grown adults.”

Kyle looked more offended than you’d expect. “Lovie.. that’s bloody incredible,” he moves over to the couch to touch the ditto and he nearly whines at how soft the yarn is. “Where did you get it?” Your face heats up even more at his reaction. “..I made it, actually.” From then on, Kyle knew you were a keeper. And so did the 141, so when things became official.. so did all the crochet requests.

Price wanted something for his office chair, citing years of field work damaging his spine. “You dodge one too many grenades and suddenly you can’t bend over without fuckin’ groaning..” You’d hear him mumble from his office as he knelt down to pick something up. You make sure to get the fluffiest, softest yarn you can find for him. And now, if anyone asks about it he snaps a quick “none of your business,” at them with a glare.

Soap got an Atlantic Puffin. “Ah’ve always loved ‘em, dunno know, just somethin’ about the wee birds,” he said offhandedly one afternoon while he and you were watching Ghost and Gaz spar. His face lit up like Christmas when you presented the puffin to him, and he’d never admit it out loud but he did tear up a little. His ma always called him her “little puffin”, due to Soap being extremely loyal and highly sociable just like the birds.

Gaz asked for a ditto, just like the one on your couch. But when you went to the store to buy the yarn, you felt conflicted. You knew he wanted one, but you still wanted to it feel special and specific to him. So what do you do? You make his ditto a little hat, just like the one he wears. He doesn’t speak for a moment or two when you show him, all he does is pull you into the tightest hug you’ve ever gotten and mumbles something about “..best gift ever..” He hadn’t mentioned this to anyone yet, but his family wasn’t the riches growing up, holidays were often spent alone. So any gift is by default special to him, but something so personalized? He felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love.

SUMMARY : Ghostface witnesses you run back to grab a medkit while actively being hunted. He thinks it’s cute.

TAGS : suggestive but no smut , mild gore , enemies to lovers if you squint

A/N : not beta read :(

You ran, as fast as your feet could. You felt like you were gonna fall, your shoes were barely holding on to your feet. The cut on your arm was making it hard to hold up the Medkit in your hand, if you could just get to Yui, then it would be fine.

She wriggled and writhed, her body trying with all its might to unhook herself. You were close, and just as you got close enough to almost touch her, you heard it.

It was like a heavy breath, and then suddenly you were burning in pain, thrown back against the locker with inhuman force by Ghostface. You crawled, attempting to get as far away as quick as you could.

You see him there, inspecting the area around Yui for any kind of trap. He wandered off soon, seemingly deciding that you weren’t worth his time.

You walk to Yui, reaching up to slip her out off the hook. You struggled to fully unhook her for a moment, your hands still shaking from the close encounter. She thanks you with a hug, but her panting increased your worry. You reach for your medkit, prepared to heal whatever injuries that the hook had left her with.

Your worry raises upon realizing that ghostface had flung you so far from Yui that you had dropped the medkit from your hand. You wanted to tell her to wait, but it could’ve been a death sentence to speak too loud, so you gave her a reassuring hug and gestured for her to kneel and hide for a moment.

She did so, crouching behind a generator and beginning to repair it. You beginning searching through the grass for the medkit, hoping to god you would find it, although God hadn’t been very useful up to this point.

Yui’s unsteady attempts on the generator could be heard, but she managed to correctly fix it, now she just crouched and waited for you.

You spot it, about 3 feet away from you, and you stand up, fully prepared to run for it, hearing the sounds of Kate finish her generator, meaning only one was left.

Jake would’ve been a big help, but he snagged his leg on a branch and managed to get hooked early on. You shutter at the memory, even though you’ve seen it a thousand times, and begin to go for it.

You are almost there until you Yui’s shriek pierce the air around you. You whip your head around, afraid to see but knowing you have to.

Yui is limping away, hand pressed against the wound on her neck as she skips to you. “Shit—“ she says, calling your name in terror. Behind her is ghostface, Hes not speaking but you can see the fury in hiw he moves, wiping the blood clean from his knife and running to grab Yui.

You watch her sprint past, and you begin to run too. Yui is already gone, leaving you and ghostface. He had run after you, his hands ghosting your back as you zig zag without a thought to grab the medkit. He pauses his running, and you watch as he backs away, and turns to go after Kate.

The match ends with you and Yui escaping but Kate dying on the hook and Jake long gone before it had even gotten interesting.

You looked over, resting from the most recent match. You look over, as usual, there are killer staring and taunting. From wh edge of your eyes you can see ghostface, holding something in his hands. He gestures to you, then it. He plants it against the (extremely and oddly durable) fence.

You squint, eyes widening as you realize it’s a picture. But flipped around to where you can only see the back of it. You cautiously walk closer, you know very well the Entity doesn’t find enjoyment in harm coming to the survivors out of the rounds usually, so you aren’t scared. Well, at least not as much as you should be

To be honest, you’re excited. It feels wrong, well it definitely is. But honestly, you aren’t sure how much morality matters anymore. He slips his fingers through the gate, holding the folded picture like a cigarette, offering it to you as your form got closer.

You had tried to make your way past the gate once, in a fit of anger at Trickster. So you were aware of the stinging pain that came from crossing it. But also of the mildly numbing vibration that came with touching the fence. But, you could imagine that his fingers were tingling, and maybe burning since they were through the fence.

You shake the thought from your head, and grab the picture, quick and steady. You unfold the Polaroid, eyes taking in every detail. It’s of Danny. That much you can tell. His mask is pulled up a small bit, only revealing a hint of collarbone. His pants are down, enough to reveal the curve of his cock, but the picture cuts off before you can see the tip.

You stare at it for a moment, then up at him. Then back at it. Then at him again. His face is obscured by his mask, but you can tell hes smiling. He’s nearly vibrating in place.

You open your mouth to say something, but he shoves his hand through the gate, gripping your wrist. The gates affect is working, you can hear the sound of it burning him. He pulls away, but his point has gotten across. He is expecting this to be kept between you two.

You don’t want to nod, or say yes. But you hope slipping the photo into your pocket is an answer.

Your thoughts are confirmed when he grips the fence like he’ll fall down without it.

This ask cracked me up when I first read it, I'm pretty sure this ask is 3-4 years old lol whoops. Also this isn't NSFW but it's also not SFW so just read with caution? I don't know lol

Killers w/ caked up reader

shy wesker x reader

reader is s.t.a.r.s. secretary, no tw, gn but reader is called beautiful?

can be seen as a part two to my other shy jealous wesker fic, but you dont need to read that to understand it, but here it is

the station had gone all quiet under all that snow piling up outside. fat flakes drifting past the windows, making everything feel softer and heavier at the same time.

wesker sat at his desk pretending to work, reports spread out in front of him that he hadn’t actually read in ages. his sunglasses were still on even though it was late, but his eyes kept drifting toward the half-open blinds, straight to the front desk.

you were still there, finishing up the last bits of filing, the little lamp catching in your hair and making your face look so soft. holy shit… they’re so… oh god, what’s wrong with me? i can’t even think of a word right now.

his mind slipped again, deeper this time.

in his head you were sitting prettily on his couch, legs tucked under you, glass of wine in your hand. the lights were low, something soft playing, and the snow outside felt cozy instead of annoying. you looked at him with that same gentle smile you always gave at the front desk, and he looked back, feeling weirdly shy for once.

"you’re staring again," you teased, lips brushing the rim of the glass, voice all light and warm.

he rubbed the back of his neck, a small embarrassed smile slipping out. "…can you blame me?" his voice came out quieter than he meant it to. "you make it very hard to focus on anything else."

you laughed softly, the sound making his chest feel tight in the best way. "albert wesker, flustered? never thought in hell i’d see that." you leaned forward a little, eyes sparkling. "i like it though... seeing this side of you, that is."

god, you have no idea what you do to me. he felt his face heat up, even in the daydream. "you bring it out of me," he admitted, hand sliding a little closer across the couch, not quite touching yours yet.

"i spend so much time calculating everything… keeping all these secrets. but with you… i just want to... set some of it down. even if it’s only for a little while." he swallowed thickly. "you make me want to be more than… this."

then a loud knock on his office door ripped him straight out of it.

wesker straightened up fast, the dreamy look in his eyes dissipating as chris poked his head in the office. jill was right behind him, trying (and failing) to hide a grin.

"captain wesker? me and jill are heading out, the roads are getting pretty bad." chris paused, then added with a knowing little smirk, "oh, by the way… i think y/n needs a ride home. snow’s coming down pretty hard out there."

chris winked. actually winked. jill let out a soft giggle she tried to cover with a cough.

what? why the hell did he wink at me? wesker thought, looking a bit sheepish. do they… know? oh, fuck me.

"alright," wesker replied, voice firm and short like always. "drive safe."

chris gave him one last cheeky thumbs up before they both disappeared down the hallway, their quiet laughter echoing for a second.

wesker sat there for a long moment, heart still pounding. the reports in front of him looked stupid now. he glanced back toward the front desk… you were starting to gather your things. say something, you idiot. don’t just let them leave like this.

his throat felt tight. that warm, wanted feeling from the daydream was still clinging to him, making him feel braver than usual. before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed up from his chair and stepped out of his office.

"…hey," he said, voice rougher than he wanted as he stopped a little ways from your desk. his gloved hands flexed at his sides. shit, why is this so hard? he cleared his throat. "the snow’s getting heavy out there." he paused, jaw tight, ears still burning from chris’s stupid wink.

“if you’re not in a rush to leave yet…” he continued, quieter, almost hesitant, “i was thinking maybe you could stay for a bit. just… talk. with me.” god, that sounds pitiful.

he finally met your eyes, the look in them raw- nervous, hopeful, a little scared even.

“or… if you do need a ride,” he added softly, almost shy, “i could take you home. the roads are bad and i… wouldn’t mind.”

you looked up at him, a soft smile spreading across your face as you tilted your head a little. “i’d really like that, captain,” you said gently, your voice warm and a touch playful. “the um... the talking part too. i’ve been hoping you’d ask me to stay behind one of these nights.”

you finished gathering your papers and stood up, cheeks a little flushed from the cold air sneaking in from the hallway. “besides… i like when it’s just us. you seem like a pretty cool guy." cool? he thought, out of every word in the english language… they chose cool?

a tiny, surprised smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself. "cool," he repeated under his breath, almost like he was testing the word. "i’ll… take that... i suppose."

he grabbed his coat and held the station door open for you as you both stepped out into the thick snowfall.

"chivalrous, are we?" you teased lightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you glanced up at him.

wesker paused for half a second, caught off guard. chivalrous? his cheeks flushed. "don’t get used to it," he muttered, but there was no real bite in his voice.

he fell into step beside you, staying close enough that his arm nearly brushed yours. "someone has to make sure you don’t slip and crack your head open in this mess."

you let out a laugh, snowflakes catching in your hair. "so it’s purely practical then? are you sure there's no other reason you’re walking this close?"

he cleared his throat, gloved hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare. "maybe... maybe not purely," he admitted, voice low. the corner of his mouth twitched upward, almost shy.

god, why did i say that out loud? he thought, feeling his face heat up. he kept his eyes forward on the snowy path, but he could feel you looking at him.

you bumped your shoulder gently against his arm. "good to know."

the walk to his car was only a couple seconds but it felt longer with how hard his heart was beating. when you got there he opened the passenger door for you again, waiting until you were in before closing it carefully. he brushed the snow off the windshield with his sleeve before getting in on his side.

once the car started and the heat began kicking in, wesker gripped the wheel a little tighter than necessary.

the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged. he could still feel the spot on his arm where you’d bumped him. get it together. it’s just a car ride.

"you warm enough?" he asked after a minute, voice a little gruff but soft around the edges. he reached over and turned the heat up a notch without waiting for an answer.

"yeah, i’m good," you said, smiling as you settled into the seat. "thanks for this, by the way. the ride. i wasn’t really looking forward to scraping ice off my car tonight."

"so… how did you get to the station this morning? i didn’t see your car in the lot."

you shifted in the seat, smiling a little. "oh, chris drove me. like i said, i didn't want to scrape ice off my car, so he offered to pick me up on his way."

wesker’s jaw tightened just a fraction. chris. of course it was chris. he tried to keep his voice even, but there was a slight edge to it. "redfield gave you a ride?"

"mmhm. he was being nice about it," you said lightly, not noticing the shift in his tone at first.

nice, wesker thought bitterly. he knew exactly how chris looked at you- all sweet smiles and stupid jokes. he hated it. his grip on the wheel got a little firmer. at least you were here with him now, not chris.

he cleared his throat. "you should’ve told me. i could’ve picked you up instead."

you turned to look at him, catching the subtle change in his expression. a small, amused smile tugged at your lips. "aww, captain… are you jealous?"

wesker’s ears burned instantly. he kept his eyes glued to the snowy road. "no," he muttered, way too quickly.

you let out a chuckle, clearly not buying. anybody with eyes and ears could see and hear the envy brewing in him.

his denial hung in the air for a second too long, the car humming quietly as snow fell against the windshield. you watched him from the corner of your eye, the stiff posture, the tight jaw, the way his cheeks were still a little pink.

"you know," you said playfully, "jealousy’s kind of cute on you."

he inhaled sharply, fingers tightening on the wheel. "i am not-"

"mhmm," you hummed, leaning back in the passenger seat with a knowing smile. "sure, captain."

he didn’t say anything back, but his jaw twitched. and the way he kept glancing at you- quick, sharp, like he couldn’t help himself- it made your breath hitch.

the rest of the drive was quiet, but not empty. every little movement felt charged, your knee brushing against the console, his hand shifting on the gearstick, the soft glow of the street lights painting his face in warm yellows and shadows.

when he finally pulled up in front of your apartment, the snow was falling even heavier, blanketing everything in thick white.

he put the car in park, exhaled slowly, and turned toward you... not fully, just enough that you could see the hesitation and nervousness in his posture and body language.

"thank you," you said softly, "for the ride, and for… asking me to stay a bit."

his adam's apple bobbed. "i meant it," he murmured. "i… enjoy your company."

you smiled, leaning a little closer, "i enjoy yours too."

he froze, completely... like a deer in headlights wearing tactical gloves.

you reached for the door handle, then paused, turning back to him with a soft, warm look that made his breath catch.

"hey, wesker?"

"yes?" his voice cracked,

you leaned in, slowly, deliberately, and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, not quite his lips, but close enough that he felt the warmth of you, the softness, the intention of the touch.

he went rigid, sucking in a breath through his nose that he held for just a second too long.

you pulled back just enough to see his expression, eyes wide behind the sunglasses he’d forgotten to take off, well, not that he could have known you were about to kiss him, his breath shallow, mouth parted slightly in stunned silence.

"goodnight," you whispered, your smiling at him, sweetly. "drive safe, okay?" you slipped out of the car, closing the door behind you.

wesker didn’t move, not even to blink. he couldn't

he sat there, hands frozen on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead like his brain had blue screened.

…what… what just happened?

his pulse hammered in his ears, loud enough he could feel it in his throat. he lifted one gloved hand, slowly, and touched the spot where your lips had been.

warm.... like the ghost of your mouth was still pressed there.

his sunglasses had slid slightly down his nose, but he didn’t fix them, he didn’t even notice. he was way too busy replaying the moment in his head, over and over, and each time felt more unbelievable than the last

you kissed him. you kissed him.

not out of pity, not out of holiday cheer, not because someone had dared you. no... you kissed him like you wanted to.

a warm, shaky breath escaped him, fogging the inside of the windshield.

he leaned back in the seat, eyes closing for a moment as he tried, and failed, to compose himself.

"get a grip," he muttered under his breath,

he let out a slow breath, trying to settle the rush in his chest. he glanced toward your front door one last time, watching the dark wooden door.

“…christ,” he muttered under his breath, almost laughing at himself, still disbelieving that had just happened.

he straightened in his seat, pulled his hand from his face, and finally eased the car forward, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth that he couldn’t quite get rid of.

(i dont know how to end this so... the end 😭)

shy wesker x reader

reader is s.t.a.r.s. secretary, no tw, gn but reader is called beautiful?

can be seen as a part two to my other shy jealous wesker fic, but you dont need to read that to understand it, but here it is

the station had gone all quiet under all that snow piling up outside. fat flakes drifting past the windows, making everything feel softer and heavier at the same time.

wesker sat at his desk pretending to work, reports spread out in front of him that he hadn’t actually read in ages. his sunglasses were still on even though it was late, but his eyes kept drifting toward the half-open blinds, straight to the front desk.

you were still there, finishing up the last bits of filing, the little lamp catching in your hair and making your face look so soft. holy shit… they’re so… oh god, what’s wrong with me? i can’t even think of a word right now.

his mind slipped again, deeper this time.

in his head you were sitting prettily on his couch, legs tucked under you, glass of wine in your hand. the lights were low, something soft playing, and the snow outside felt cozy instead of annoying. you looked at him with that same gentle smile you always gave at the front desk, and he looked back, feeling weirdly shy for once.

"you’re staring again," you teased, lips brushing the rim of the glass, voice all light and warm.

he rubbed the back of his neck, a small embarrassed smile slipping out. "…can you blame me?" his voice came out quieter than he meant it to. "you make it very hard to focus on anything else."

you laughed softly, the sound making his chest feel tight in the best way. "albert wesker, flustered? never thought in hell i’d see that." you leaned forward a little, eyes sparkling. "i like it though... seeing this side of you, that is."

god, you have no idea what you do to me. he felt his face heat up, even in the daydream. "you bring it out of me," he admitted, hand sliding a little closer across the couch, not quite touching yours yet.

"i spend so much time calculating everything… keeping all these secrets. but with you… i just want to... set some of it down. even if it’s only for a little while." he swallowed thickly. "you make me want to be more than… this."

then a loud knock on his office door ripped him straight out of it.

wesker straightened up fast, the dreamy look in his eyes dissipating as chris poked his head in the office. jill was right behind him, trying (and failing) to hide a grin.

"captain wesker? me and jill are heading out, the roads are getting pretty bad." chris paused, then added with a knowing little smirk, "oh, by the way… i think y/n needs a ride home. snow’s coming down pretty hard out there."

chris winked. actually winked. jill let out a soft giggle she tried to cover with a cough.

what? why the hell did he wink at me? wesker thought, looking a bit sheepish. do they… know? oh, fuck me.

"alright," wesker replied, voice firm and short like always. "drive safe."

chris gave him one last cheeky thumbs up before they both disappeared down the hallway, their quiet laughter echoing for a second.

wesker sat there for a long moment, heart still pounding. the reports in front of him looked stupid now. he glanced back toward the front desk… you were starting to gather your things. say something, you idiot. don’t just let them leave like this.

his throat felt tight. that warm, wanted feeling from the daydream was still clinging to him, making him feel braver than usual. before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed up from his chair and stepped out of his office.

"…hey," he said, voice rougher than he wanted as he stopped a little ways from your desk. his gloved hands flexed at his sides. shit, why is this so hard? he cleared his throat. "the snow’s getting heavy out there." he paused, jaw tight, ears still burning from chris’s stupid wink.

“if you’re not in a rush to leave yet…” he continued, quieter, almost hesitant, “i was thinking maybe you could stay for a bit. just… talk. with me.” god, that sounds pitiful.

he finally met your eyes, the look in them raw- nervous, hopeful, a little scared even.

“or… if you do need a ride,” he added softly, almost shy, “i could take you home. the roads are bad and i… wouldn’t mind.”

you looked up at him, a soft smile spreading across your face as you tilted your head a little. “i’d really like that, captain,” you said gently, your voice warm and a touch playful. “the um... the talking part too. i’ve been hoping you’d ask me to stay behind one of these nights.”

you finished gathering your papers and stood up, cheeks a little flushed from the cold air sneaking in from the hallway. “besides… i like when it’s just us. you seem like a pretty cool guy." cool? he thought, out of every word in the english language… they chose cool?

a tiny, surprised smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself. "cool," he repeated under his breath, almost like he was testing the word. "i’ll… take that... i suppose."

he grabbed his coat and held the station door open for you as you both stepped out into the thick snowfall.

"chivalrous, are we?" you teased lightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you glanced up at him.

wesker paused for half a second, caught off guard. chivalrous? his cheeks flushed. "don’t get used to it," he muttered, but there was no real bite in his voice.

he fell into step beside you, staying close enough that his arm nearly brushed yours. "someone has to make sure you don’t slip and crack your head open in this mess."

you let out a laugh, snowflakes catching in your hair. "so it’s purely practical then? are you sure there's no other reason you’re walking this close?"

he cleared his throat, gloved hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare. "maybe... maybe not purely," he admitted, voice low. the corner of his mouth twitched upward, almost shy.

god, why did i say that out loud? he thought, feeling his face heat up. he kept his eyes forward on the snowy path, but he could feel you looking at him.

you bumped your shoulder gently against his arm. "good to know."

the walk to his car was only a couple seconds but it felt longer with how hard his heart was beating. when you got there he opened the passenger door for you again, waiting until you were in before closing it carefully. he brushed the snow off the windshield with his sleeve before getting in on his side.

once the car started and the heat began kicking in, wesker gripped the wheel a little tighter than necessary.

the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged. he could still feel the spot on his arm where you’d bumped him. get it together. it’s just a car ride.

"you warm enough?" he asked after a minute, voice a little gruff but soft around the edges. he reached over and turned the heat up a notch without waiting for an answer.

"yeah, i’m good," you said, smiling as you settled into the seat. "thanks for this, by the way. the ride. i wasn’t really looking forward to scraping ice off my car tonight."

"so… how did you get to the station this morning? i didn’t see your car in the lot."

you shifted in the seat, smiling a little. "oh, chris drove me. like i said, i didn't want to scrape ice off my car, so he offered to pick me up on his way."

wesker’s jaw tightened just a fraction. chris. of course it was chris. he tried to keep his voice even, but there was a slight edge to it. "redfield gave you a ride?"

"mmhm. he was being nice about it," you said lightly, not noticing the shift in his tone at first.

nice, wesker thought bitterly. he knew exactly how chris looked at you- all sweet smiles and stupid jokes. he hated it. his grip on the wheel got a little firmer. at least you were here with him now, not chris.

he cleared his throat. "you should’ve told me. i could’ve picked you up instead."

you turned to look at him, catching the subtle change in his expression. a small, amused smile tugged at your lips. "aww, captain… are you jealous?"

wesker’s ears burned instantly. he kept his eyes glued to the snowy road. "no," he muttered, way too quickly.

you let out a chuckle, clearly not buying. anybody with eyes and ears could see and hear the envy brewing in him.

his denial hung in the air for a second too long, the car humming quietly as snow fell against the windshield. you watched him from the corner of your eye, the stiff posture, the tight jaw, the way his cheeks were still a little pink.

"you know," you said playfully, "jealousy’s kind of cute on you."

he inhaled sharply, fingers tightening on the wheel. "i am not-"

"mhmm," you hummed, leaning back in the passenger seat with a knowing smile. "sure, captain."

he didn’t say anything back, but his jaw twitched. and the way he kept glancing at you- quick, sharp, like he couldn’t help himself- it made your breath hitch.

the rest of the drive was quiet, but not empty. every little movement felt charged, your knee brushing against the console, his hand shifting on the gearstick, the soft glow of the street lights painting his face in warm yellows and shadows.

when he finally pulled up in front of your apartment, the snow was falling even heavier, blanketing everything in thick white.

he put the car in park, exhaled slowly, and turned toward you... not fully, just enough that you could see the hesitation and nervousness in his posture and body language.

"thank you," you said softly, "for the ride, and for… asking me to stay a bit."

his adam's apple bobbed. "i meant it," he murmured. "i… enjoy your company."

you smiled, leaning a little closer, "i enjoy yours too."

he froze, completely... like a deer in headlights wearing tactical gloves.

you reached for the door handle, then paused, turning back to him with a soft, warm look that made his breath catch.

"hey, wesker?"

"yes?" his voice cracked,

you leaned in, slowly, deliberately, and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, not quite his lips, but close enough that he felt the warmth of you, the softness, the intention of the touch.

he went rigid, sucking in a breath through his nose that he held for just a second too long.

you pulled back just enough to see his expression, eyes wide behind the sunglasses he’d forgotten to take off, well, not that he could have known you were about to kiss him, his breath shallow, mouth parted slightly in stunned silence.

"goodnight," you whispered, your smiling at him, sweetly. "drive safe, okay?" you slipped out of the car, closing the door behind you.

wesker didn’t move, not even to blink. he couldn't

he sat there, hands frozen on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead like his brain had blue screened.

…what… what just happened?

his pulse hammered in his ears, loud enough he could feel it in his throat. he lifted one gloved hand, slowly, and touched the spot where your lips had been.

warm.... like the ghost of your mouth was still pressed there.

his sunglasses had slid slightly down his nose, but he didn’t fix them, he didn’t even notice. he was way too busy replaying the moment in his head, over and over, and each time felt more unbelievable than the last

you kissed him. you kissed him.

not out of pity, not out of holiday cheer, not because someone had dared you. no... you kissed him like you wanted to.

a warm, shaky breath escaped him, fogging the inside of the windshield.

he leaned back in the seat, eyes closing for a moment as he tried, and failed, to compose himself.

"get a grip," he muttered under his breath,

he let out a slow breath, trying to settle the rush in his chest. he glanced toward your front door one last time, watching the dark wooden door.

“…christ,” he muttered under his breath, almost laughing at himself, still disbelieving that had just happened.

he straightened in his seat, pulled his hand from his face, and finally eased the car forward, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth that he couldn’t quite get rid of.

(i dont know how to end this so... the end 😭)

Also, thanks to my lil sis for this doodle of Wesker; she gifted me ^_^

The wind off the North Sea had teeth this morning, sharp and salty, the kind that reminded old soldiers they weren’t as young as their scars liked to pretend.

Captain John Price (retired, thank fuck) stood on the weathered deck of the big stone cottage they’d all pooled money to buy years ago, puffing on a cigar that probably cost more than his first month’s pension. You'd expect they gave war vetterans a better recognition, huh?

The house sat on a bluff where England grudgingly gave way to Scotland. The scenery was covered with grey cliffs, screaming gulls, and the sort of stubborn heather that refused to die even in winter. It was perfect. If it weren't so damn bloody quiet.

Until it wasn’t.

“Oi, Cap,” Johnny called from the kitchen window, his silver-streaked mohawk somehow still defying gravity at seventy-two. “Ghost’s hogging the binoculars again. Says he saw a ‘suspicious figure’ on the rocks.”

Simon didn’t even glance up from the cliff path below. The black balaclava was gone these days (mostly), replaced by a plain dark scarf wrapped high against the cold, but the man still moved like a shadow that had barely learnt manners.

“Woman,” Simon grunted. “Stuck.”

Kyle leaned over the railing beside John with a mug of tea. “She’s been climbing around those tide pools for twenty minutes. Tide’s coming in faster than she thinks. Reckon we should—”

“Aye, already moving,” John said, stubbing out the cigar. Four old bastards in weatherproof jackets and bad knees headed down the path like it was an op. Old habits died hard.

fuck donald trump

fuck ICE

immigrants are not illegal

free palestine

black lives have and will always matter

trans rights forever and always

pro choice

healthcare should be free

house the homeless

keep religion out of schools

LGBTQ+ rights

fuck the tories

So, when he’s between your parted thighs, you’re shocked when he speaks to you so softly. Quietly begging in your ear, cock pressed to the hilt, for you to be good for him.

And everytime you let out a whine, fingers tightening at his shoulders because he’s massive and you feel like you’re splitting in two with every thrust; he shushes you. ‘You can take it. Yes—yes you can.’

Minors DNI, Reader is assumed to be 18+/21+ due to drug and alcohol use.

Who knew a chance encounter with a stranger at a 4th of July party would haunt you forever. By begging you to attend, your bestfriend unknowingly sealed your fate.

Fic takes place in Roseville, Florida, 1993 in an AU where The Entity doesn't exist/pick Danny. Attempting to stay true to 1993, but I'm absolutely using two-way pagers (invented in 1995) for convenience.

Reader's physical description is provided, but feel free to change any info about the reader to suit your needs.

TW: Weed use, alcohol use, stalking, voyeurism, love interest is a literal serial killer, vulgarity, theft, mild smutty descriptions, use of puppy as a pet name, masturbation, reader is implied to be a virgin but isn't important to plot.

So you're more reactive to small things, and the guys find it so cute that they simply can't help themselves.

When red wolf!kyle grabs your shoulder and licks into your mouth to greet you in the mornings, he makes sure to press his whole body against you. Without fail, you melt into his body, tail wagging when his other hand travels to the small of your back. More than that, kyle loves pulling away to see the lust in your eyes, how you desperately want more, only to smile "I'll see you later, yeah? Gotta go meet with price. Bye, runt."

Later, when border collie!soap finds you in an empty recroom, he doesn't hesitate to flip you around and hump your ass. He's the most eager about finally not being the lowest of the group, and makes full use of his privilege to rut and hump you all he likes. You seem just as happy, bowing for him and tilting your head submissively. Unfortunately, price has his rules, so soap just ends up groaning "open up, runt, or it's yer face ahm hitting." When he strokes himself over your face.

During closed training is when grey wolf!ghost likes to remind you of your place. He remembers how annoying it was when he had to introduce kyle to the dynamic. Pushing you into any lock he decides and growling when you try to get out. Hearing your surprised yip followed by loud whimpering and tucked tail is nothing short of satisfying for ghost. Especially when you don't fight as he rubs his scent on you in his preferred method, only pausing to huff "hold still, runt. I won't ask you twice."

Of course, kangal!price gets to properly enjoy you, at least for the first few weeks while your mind sorts out the pack dynamics. He dedicates an hour at the end of each day for you to kneel between his legs, and is always happy to see you do so obediently. That cloudy look in your eyes happens so quick whenever you look up at him, so reactive. Later, when he's got you tied on his knot and you try to squirm away, all he has to do is remind "no, no pup. You sit still for me, yeah? Yer obedient, aren't you?"