Hello, I'm Keith! You probably have seen my last post, how I need more of that resident evil daddy dick. So, I took it upon myself to.. make a series.
This series will contain:
✒ Male reader ONLY
✒ Various Male Resident Evil yearning for you
✒ Probably slow burn
✒Angst?
✒Smut (we all need it, come on now)
✒Will be starting from resident evil 2 all the way to requiem
✒And more to come
Resident Evil males that I will involve:
✒Albert Wesker
✒Billy Coen (?)
✒Chris Redfield
✒Leon S. Kennedy
✒Carlos Oliveira
✒Luis Serra Navarro
✒Jake Muller (?)
✒Ethan Winters
(I am NOT doing Victor Gideon... I'm sorry 💔 I know he's hot but come on you guys..)
Now here's the problem that I have:
I love the game, I love the franchise, I love every single bit of it. But considering I don't really own the game nor do I have an attention span that's longer than 20 minutes, I need, NEED, a summary for the story so I could easily catch up on the story line I will be making.
Now you, male reader, aka loverboy, I will ask for you help if you can guide me to the nearest summary and a few ideas for this upcoming series. I hope you enjoy it. (You can send your ideas on the comments or send it anonymously, thank you)
Divider credit: https://www.tumblr.com/pixopix?source=share (go check them out!)
Hi everyone! I just wanted to ask everyone how you've been doing, and if you've been drinking water. I didn't really think that I need to speak up about this, but I just wanted you guys to be informed on what's going on.
I got scratched by a rat..🐀. The scratch was pretty big, but not deep. There's still some chance of rabies, so I'm currently under treatment. I will get back on track once I fully heal! Thank you for your support everyone 🩵
Hello could you do flambae x reader with shadow powers who is scary but is a total sweetheart but when it comes to battle is a total monster at it, relationship headcanons
Thank you for the request! I'll do it! Cause I love flambae 🔥 ON FUEGO
Good evening, everyone! I am sad to say that I have not yet started on the next part of the current Resident Evil fic, due to my sickness. But I have been tuning on more dispatch stuff (yeah I know, I'm like a year late).
And I was wondering if anyone is still up for Dispatch things. I know most people go for one shots, but a series would be cool, no? (I'm bad at one shots so I do series..) Also considering the game doesn't actually let you choose a male lover, can you believe that? Flambae is flaming hot.
—✒𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: Hello everyone! I'm sorry for the late post, I haven't been feeling well for these past few days and the heat isn't helping at all. Please remember to stay hydrated!
—✒𝕬𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖝𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖞 1366 words
The breezeful night howls like a lone wolf. Pattering drops of light rain thumps on the ground, like some sort of rhythmic pattern.
"Get the G-virus from Annette Birkin. No distractions." Those words played on your head like a broken record for the past hour and a half. Wesker only trusted you for the job, best not to disappoint him.
Music blares from your cassette player as you got dressed. You'd hear rock band's songs playing almost everywhere, feeling a bit left out—you start to listen to it too. It felt great, amazing. Not only did it distract you from your own problems, you relate to every single word of the song. Singing felt like a loud cry for help, it felt good to release frustration, stress, and longing. Especially with Saudade, that song would be on repeat and it would still touch the deepest and most hidden part of your heart.
Walking inside your bathroom to brush your teeth, holding up the toothbrush to your teeth and you start to brush. Doing the same ritual over and over again just before you leave for work. You look up from the sink to the mirror, staring back at your reflection. Feeling yourself start to zone out.
When you were younger, you never got to meet your biological parents. The only information you had was that they had connections, having a kid was too dangerous—but it seemed like they couldn't help themselves. Being apart of a family as mysterious yet known, that meant you'd have a price on your head. So, they gave you to your aunt and uncle who both worked for a pharmaceutical company, Umbrella Corporation.
Being easily influenced by two virologist you became top of your school. Trophies here and there, just enough to keep them impressed. But they never truly had the time for you, so you became independent at a young age.
You graduated from your university at a young age of 19, and started to live on your own in an apartment. Just after graduating, you applied as virologist at the umbrella corporation. Being incredibly intelligent at your age—you were taken under a William Birkin and Albert Wesker's wing.
You worked for the Umbrella Corporation for about 5-6 years, and now, only for Wesker. Your relationship with him had always been strictly professional, short compliments here and there—just enough for you to yearn for more. Albert was older than you, and way out of your league. Your daddy issues are catching up on you, that's for sure.
Shaking your head as you come out of the trance, you rinse your mouth with water. You grab your coat from the rack, putting it on as you put on a pair of sunglasses. A scarf is wrapped around your neck while your hands are covered by a pair of gloves.
With a final glance at your rather empty apartment, you were out the door.
A jeep parks itself by a gas station, Saudade blaring from the Jeep's radio. The door opens and a young man steps out, as he closes the door behind him—he looks around the rather empty gas station. Rain pouring down and splatting on the floor, creating an almost comforting feel.
Driving past the gas station, locating the Raccoon Police Department. As you navigate your way to the police department, you had tasks in mind.
•Find Ben Bertolucci, as he has information about the G-virus.
•Retrieve from the G-virus.
•Leave.
You glance at an open file about Ben, just some usual description about the guy. Journalists are always nosey, it feels like they're everywhere nowadays.
The vehicle comes to a halt as you arrive at the police department. You parked your car a bit further from the station, so you wouldn't get attraction from zombies. Is this really what it has come to? Mindless zombies roaming around the place like they own it. They should've made something better at least, like nemesis.
Once you got inside the building, you suddenly felt a rush of nostalgia. The place was the same as before, but it's filled with zombies. You had hoped Chief Irons was dead, or at least a zombie. That man always got through your thick skin.
An explosion erupts outside. You whip your head around to look outside the window. Narrowing your eyes, you see the young man from the gas station looking for a way inside the building.
'Great, a fawn in training' You groan. Zombies are one thing, but another living, breathing, human? That's too much to handle. You didn't want obstacle to get in the way. You start to walk once again. You had a task to do, getting distracted can kill.
As you reach the basement if the department, you silently watch the rookie fight off William Birkin. The hair is what made you realize it was William in the first place, and... Jeez, what did he do to himself? Don't do drugs, kids.
After yawning for quite sometime, William finally meets his end as he fell off the railing and into the deep end. The rookie holds onto the railing as he looks down at the falling and screaming figure of William.
Deciding to finally kick the ladder on your feet, making it fall down—it made a loud noise of screech before slamming down. Might've scared the poor fawn quite a bit as he tensed up as he turned his head to look at the ladder.
"Somebody's watching me..." He says to himself.
A howl can be heard at the underground parking lot. Great, just what you needed. You felt bad to those poor dogs, but feeling bad now could kill you.
The young man approaches a machine that will supposedly unlock the gate. He doesn't seem to have the card to unlock it. "Damn. Need a key card." He grumbles under his breath.
A nasty grow can be heard behind him, an infected doberman approaches him. He turns around to face the dog, fear painting on his face. "You gotta be kidding me." The dog rushes to pounce on him, growling and drooling. The rookie falls on the ground with the doberman as he tries to get the dog off of him.
Pulling the trigger, the dog is shot at the neck—falling on the ground next to the scarred male. "Hey." You called out.
The male pants, his eyes flickering to look at you. He looked scared and confused, before snapping out of his trance to aim a gun at you. Your footsteps grow louder each steps you take, the gap between the two of you closing in.
"Put it down." You ordered him. You knew he wouldn't shoot you, he didn't have the guts. Pulling out something from your coat pocket, you showed him an FBI ID and badge. "FBI." You simply stated.
He lowers his gun slowly, his gaze flickering to his surroundings then at you. "Sorry... Thank you—" He's interuppted by a gun shot from you as you shot the dog from it's wake. "...For your help."
"At least you've made it this far." You acknowledged, turning away from him.
He stands up, dusting himself from the dust from the ground. He starts to follow you, "FBI, huh? What's going on here?"
You snort, he doesn't seem to know that curiosity kills a cat if not a person. But you couldn't blame him, he's a rookie. A poor boy like himself finding out the wonders of the real world.
"Sorry, that information is classified." You responded to his question. It really isn't everyday that the FBI or even the government. Footsteps echo throughout the under ground parking lot.
"Where are you going?" He asked, making you stop at your tracks and turn to look at him. The look on his face, it tells a story. A young man who wanted to be good faces the cruel world.
You feel yourself staring at him through your sunglasses before speaking, "Why don't you be a good cop and find a way out here?" Raising your brow before turning around to leave.
Hello everyone! I just wanted to ask if you guys wanted me to make your backstory for the upcoming part with Leon. I wanted to ask cause I have this perspective on how and why you started to work for umbrella, but I also want you to be freely making your own decisions, therefore making reader have a shallow background so it can take in whatever backstory you want! Thank you for your help and patience! ♡♡♡
—✒ 𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: Hello! I hope you guys are doing okay. This is quite a short part if I do say so, but the next part will be in re2! With Rookie Leon! I can't wait to write it and show it to you guys, please wait for it! Enjoy!
—✒ 𝕬𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖝𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖞 1573 words
Previously you agreed on helping Carlos and Mikhail to get the subway train moving, but before you had done so—an interruption came.
When you were about to step out of the train to get started on getting the train to move, you were faced with Jill.
"...[Name]?" Jill mumbles. Staring at you as if she'd just seen a ghost.
During your time at S.T.A.R.S., you thought that you'd always just be at Wesker's side. But because of three people, it made it hard to stick around Wesker.
A child prodigy, Rebecca Chambers. You always found it amusing how a young lady like her was determined and full of confidence. She always stood out as a younger sister to you, it made you feel some sort of familial protection towards her.
Jill Valentine, a fierce and intelligent woman. Known for her expertise in lock picking, bomb disposal, and combat skills. She taught you how to lock pick, and it helped you more than you'd admit, losing keys is not for the weak.
And... Chris Redfield, what a hunk. Where do you even start? You knew a bit about him, it's really hard to focus if he's carrying guns. He has a sister, Claire. You found it intriguing how a big bear like him would have a sister that he's so protective over. You could say it's a natural instinct. During training, you'd observe him like a hawk. He was a point man in the Alpha team, known for being an expert in firearms and hand-to-hand combat. You found him stubborn, dedicated, and had all the characteristics to be a great leader. You wonder what he's doing or what he'd been up to ever since the mansion incident.
The three of them would pull you out of Wesker's side to hang out or just train with them. And honestly? it was your first ever real friendship, a friendship you didn't want to let go. For a moment, you found another purpose in life.
You felt a your hand being held, it snapped you out of your trance. Jill was holding your hand with hers, "I can't believe it..." She started. "I thought something bad happened to you after that incident." She smiled in disbelief.
You blink, your eyes snapping at hers. "Oh, yeah. I thought I wasn't gonna live another day, but... I survived. I'm glad you're okay too." nodding your head slowly.
Carlos looks between the two of you. "Incident?" He looks at you, worry painting his features. "I don't mean to be nosey or anythin'."
"It's a long story." Jill lets go of your hand. She look between you and Carlos, "Wait—don't tell me you're working for them now." She asked, her eyebrow raising.
Shaking your head, you were about to argue when you hear Carlos' voice "No, he isn't working for us. He's just helpin, us to get some survivors and get this subway train movin'." Carlos said, reassuring Jill.
Jill's gaze shoots up at you, nodding at her as a form of agreement to what Carlos said. "I'm just helping for the better, for the survivors. I'm not working for them."
Jill seems hesitant before speaking up, "Okay, then I'll help you."
Sighing in relief, you give her a small smile. "Thank you, Jill." Your eyes flicker to Carlos then back at her, "You can help finding more survivors and getting them down here, while I get this train moving."
"Okay, first things first." Carlos started, "We need to get you geared up." He said as he grabbed his gun, then he looks back at you. "Head up to street level. You'll find some supplies there."
You climb up a broken escalator. The radio in your pocket starts to ring, you click a button and Carlos' voice cackles through. "[Name], it's me again. You topside yet?" He asked
"Almost. So, what's the plan?" You respond. Your legs working their way up to another broken escalator. The lights flickering as you reached the top.
"The old tank's got me clearing the tracks." Carlos grumbled. "You mind getting the subway infrastructure back online?" He requested.
"And how do I do that?" You ask. Observing your surroundings.
"Let's start by restoring power. I'll navigate you to the substation once you hit the main road." Carlos said.
Nodding your head, "Copy that. We can do this." You turn off the radio, but you hear another ring. Putting the radio back in your pocket, you grab the walkie-talkie from the inside of your jacket.
Turning on the walkie-talkie, you hear Wesker's voice. "And what do you think you're doing?"
A gust of wind flows through the place, you stayed silent for a bit before responding back, "What do you mean?" You asked, afraid that he might've been tracking you.
"The report, [Name]. Where is it?" Wesker demanded. His voice was filled with authority and slight anger. You understood why he felt like this. He always had high expectations for you, and you successfully met this standards.
"I...I know, Wesker." You mumble. "I'll give it to you once it's ready. You know I don't like giving unfinished reports." You added.
"Be right with it. I don't want to keep reminding you." Wesker says before the walkie-talkie starts to static.
You put the object away, back in your jacket. Wesker was always up in your ass, he doesn't seem to want to pull out any time soon.
A pack of pistol bullets sits down on a pile of boxes, you pull out your pistol and change it's mag.
You walk inside another room within the floor, you find an industrial door with a small gap leading outside. Crouching down, you hear people screaming from all directions.
There's flame coming from behind bars. You grab your radio, turning it on. "Carlos? I've reached the main avenue. Where do I go now?" You ask, waiting for a response from the otherside.
Carlos' voice comes through, "See a big transmission tower? That's the substation." He pauses, "You'll have to circle around through an alley to your right to get there." Carlos adds.
Your head turns to the right. Oh what a surprise, the alley is on fire. "...You mean the one that's on fire?" You deadpanned.
"...Maybe? Surely a fine drink of water like yourself can put out a few flames." Carlos chuckles from the other side of the radio. "It's just a fact."
"Flattery isn't gonna get you anywhere." You rolls your eyes before turning off the radio.
You were back down at the subway statio after you were able to get the train working.
Mikhail approaches you, "Good work. Your reputation is well deserved. Get inside, the train is about to leave." He smiles at you. He then turns to look at Carlos and a person you've never met before. "Carlos, Tyrell. You have your orders. You need to go back out into the city and find Nathaniel Bard." Mikhail ordered.
Your gaze flickers inside the train, quite a lot of survivors and Jill is staring out the window. She seems to be in deep thought. You turn your gaze back to Carlos.
"Is this the last ride out of town?" You asked. Mikhail, Carlos, and Tyrell turn their heads to look at you.
"Do not worry. Once the civilian's are safe, the train will be back." Mikhail reassured you.
"It's alright, you go on ahead." Carlos said. Smiling at you. "I'm not gonna die on you, and leave you in a cold, cruel, Carlos-less world."
You felt the corners of your mouth twitch. "Actually, I have some other things to do." You stepped closer to them. "So I wouldn't be able to join." Your gaze flickers around the station, shoving your hands in your jacket's pockets.
Carlos looks at you with confusion and concern. "What? Why?" He asked. "It's dangerous out there. I—...We don't want you to get in danger." Carlos argues. He reaches out to hold onto your arm to halt you from leaving.
Biting the inside of your cheek, your eyes lock to his as your hand finds it's way to Carlos' hold. You didn't want to tell him the real reason, or else Wesker would kill you point blank with no hesitation. "Hey, I'm gonna be alright. I'm a tough soldier, you know that." You started, "You trust me and... I trust you." You reassure him, caressing his hand with your thumb subconsciously as a form of reassurance and comfort.
"And... What I'm coming for is valuable information. It might help us in the future." You give him a soft smile. Looking at Mikhail then back at Carlos. "I'll see you on the other side."
Your eyes lock with Carlos' deep brown eyes. Noticing his brows twitching down.
Ah, fuck it.
You hold both sides of his face, pulling him in. He quietly gasped as his lips clash with yours. Carlos drops his gun on the floor, his hands travelling from your arm to your waist.
You felt Mikhail and Tyrell looking at each other before looking at the two of you with surprised looks. When Carlos was leaning in for more, you break the kiss. "Don't miss me too much." You pat his shoulder as you step away, his hands falling to his sides.
Carlos licks his lips, "I'll try." A faint smile plays at the corner of his lips, a rather genuine one.
★—𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: This was supposed to be published earlier on, but I procastinated so uh yeah. Enjoy
★— Approximately 2148 words.
── ✦ ──『✙』── ❖ ── ❖ ──『✙』── ✦ ──
One thing you didn't like is to be undercover, because if you were—you had to make up lies or at least share little to no valuable information about yourself or your plan. Something you couldn't do is to hold something important in, that's why you usually carry a notepad and a pen to write bottled up secrets into. Unless the ones you wrote down weren't as important, you just casually burn them.
Recently, you just found out that Wesker has been working for a rival company. With no other choice, you had to hop on his d̶̶̶̶i̶̶̶̶c̶̶̶k̶ plan. You had no choice because for one, you had no one else to turn to. You're not exactly the extroverted type or even the social butterfly.
Timestamp — September 28th, 1998
The soles of your combat boots make a thumping noise as you walked out of a building. You had worn just some civilian clothes for a relaxing night walk. You were stressed about your research, which wasn't like you at all.
You feel the concrete on your feet to start shaking. You stumble quite a bit before finding your footing once more.
When you looked around to see what made that earthquake, you found a big beast. Now you immediately knew that was a B.O.W., and it seem to be coming at you.
"STARS.." The creature grumbled out. It reached it's hand out to grab you.
Shaking your head from your trance, cause that creature.. Is absolutely amazing? Fuck, you wondered what kind of creature you would've made if it wasn't for Wesker being in your ass all the time. Must be from Europe.
You hastily get out of the way and run away from it as far as you could. It was really fast though, which made your heart beat faster in excitement. That B.O.W is certainly a perfect project.
Pulling out your walkie-talkie, you hold it close to your mouth as you find somewhere to hide. You turn on the power button and you start to hear static.
"Wesker? Wesker, can you hear me?" You called out from the walkie-talkie.
"What is it?" You hear Wesker's voice from the other side. "If you're gonna ask about Nemesis, just avoid him." He grumbled out.
"How did- okay, well.. Why is nemesis after me?" You asked, trying to keep calm when a literal huge beast is chasing you.
Hearing Wesker sigh from the other side, you bite your lip anxiously. "You were a S.T.A.R.S Alpha team medic back when I was a captain there."
You stare at nothing for quite some time, trying to process what Wesker just told you. And you could feel your head's cogwheels turn to spin.
"Ah. That." You blinked
"What are you doing outside anyway? Didn't I tell you to give me that report?" You can hear Wesker getting his teeth when he said that. "You're not he one to slack off, [Last name]." His words felt like ice against a warm skin.
You always knew that Wesker is a closes off person, a professional one at that. Yearning for someone like him felt like taming a stubborn cat. It felt utterly useless.
"...Yeah. I'll give you my report in a bit." You responded. Turning off the walkie-talkie, you look away from the object. You glance around, feeling the night air flowing through the roots of your hair. I haling the cold breeze calms your nerves.
But yeah, Wesker was right. You weren't actually supposed to be outside, you were supposed to be finishing your report about the G-virus. Instead, you're outside having a night walk for some fresh air—
A building explodes, flame flickering.
"Wh-What the fuck?!" You exclaimed. You whip your head around to see that monstrous beast coming after you. "Oh, for God's sake.." You hastily run while shoving the walkie-talkie in your jacket.
Nemesis jumped up and lands in front of you. He tries to reach for you, but you were quick to dodge him. As you run for your life, you trip over a dead body. Now is the time to bring out the old S.T.A.R.S member in you.
You find a car with its keys still in the ignition. Without a second thought, you hop inside the car. Maneuvering it in reverse before accelerating it towards Nemesis. The car crashes on Nemesis, the force of the car impacts on the B.O.W.'s body—making him stumble out of balance.
It did stun the creature, but it immediately got back up. He lunges forward, in front of the car and pushes it against a barricade on the street causing the car to crash upon impact. The car stumbles over the barrier, making the vehicle flip over.
You groan as your eyes flicker open. You feel the ground start to jolt and shake awake, you whip your head to the side to see Nemesis walking to the car. You immediately crawl out of the vehicle before Nemesis threw the car to a building.
"What a beast." You said to yourself. You grabbed your pistol from the inside of your jacket, you start to shoot Nemesis' face. Stepping back to have some space within you and that creature, you feel yourself limping.
Limping is for the weak, so you try to push yourself to handle it. You kept pulling the trigger but Nemesis seems to be eating those bullets like it was a Michelin star meal. Your pistol runs out of bullets, "Ugh, fuck!" You cursed. You placed your pistol back inside your jacket.
Nemesis was about to attack you until you hear a voice, "Hey, fuck face!" was all you heard until a rocket clashes with Nemesis, making him stunned. You let out a heavy sigh that you've been holding. You turn your head towards where the voice and the rocket came from. You find yourself gazing at a curly haired man.
He runs towards you, "Hey, easy man... I got ya." The stranger says. Pulling you closer to him as he holds on your arm.
"Who are you? What are you do—" You asked with a shaky breath as he lifted you from your limping position to wrap your arm around his shoulder.
"Name's Carlos, and I'm saving you!" He geunys as he places his right hand on your waist to keep you steady and balanced. "C'mon, Let's get you somewhere safe."
Carlos held you tightly as he brought you to a safer place.
`I guess it was a bad idea to have a night walk... too bad I didn't know I was gonna get chased by a goddamn beast.` You groaned internally. You regret it now, that's for sure.
You gently push Carlos away, and he lets go of you. Looking around the place, it seems you're underground. A subway station.
Carlos' voice catches your attention, "I think we're in the clear." He pants.
"We better be." You managed to let out a short chuckle. You weren't as cold as Wesker. But his professionalism is what made you intrigued.
Carlos turns his body to look at you, "We've been bringing survivors here." He says, holding onto his gun.
"Here, where? What do you mean?" You asked. You were still panting after the sudden adrenaline rush. Your body was bent whole your hands found itself on your knees.
"My guys have converted some subway cars into a shelter." Carlos answered. He walked at the opening of the subway station, he seemed to be checking something. Carlos turned back around to face you. He approaches you, "It's safe."
Carlos was about to wrap an arm around your shoulder until you stopped him. "Aren't you the touchy type." You retorted.
He steps back, "Personal space, okay—I get it." Carlos remarked. "Let's go."
You admit, you hate being randomly touched by people you just met. You aren't exactly the social butterfly. Grizzly bears are known for avoiding any interactions with a human, this one seems to be clingy.
"Aw, c'mon." Carlos' voice slices through your train of thought. You look up from the ground—noticnh the entry way was blocked off. "Who's the dipshit that closed this?" He complained
He walks past you, "Sorry. We're gonna have to go around." He goes inside a door, waiting for you.
"Hey, so... do you know anything about that monster?" You asked, following him inside the hall.
"Nothing. I've never seen anything like it." Carlos answers your question as he start to walk down the hall. "But it's no zombie. It knows what it wants and won't stop till it gets it." He adds
Carlos does a turn, and you follow shortly behind. "Don't you like that in a man?" He asked
The question caught you off-guard. You blink, processing what he asked. "Yeah? what 'bout it?" You asked him. More in a joking manner than an actual question.
You don't mind someone clingy, but they have to be professional. You didn't have time for puppy love and jealousy.
"Just sayin'." He responded. You could almost feel him smiling from behind "Listen, I promise you're in good hands." He reassured you.
The two of you go down to a flight of stairs. "I'm with the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service. U.B.C.S. for short." Carlos said as he stepped down the stairs.
`Ah crap. Okay...act like you weren't a part of it.` You sighed heavily. "Are you joking? You're not serious are you?" You asked. Your tracks stopped as Carlos faced you, his face showing signs of confusion.
"You guys are the ones who caused all of this." You argued. The two of you make eye contact.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you talking about?" He asked in disbelief.
Seriously? A man working for Umbrella doesn't know the shit they're doing? Must be a mercenary. You wanted to roll your eyes but not for now.
Carlos shook his head before turning back to keep walking. "Listen, you don't have to trust me, but I'm going to the shelter." He paused "You coming?" He asked you.
Carlos tries to open the door in front of him, yet it wouldn't budge. He steps back before kicking the door open. "C'mon, it's this way."
You follow him down to another set of stairs. As you follow him down, you see the train at halt. Must be broken.
The two of you went inside the subway train. And you spot Mikhail Victor... For fucks sake.
You weren't known during your time in the Umbrella Corporation as a Virologist. So when you joined Wesker as a double agent for S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team, that's the only time you gained attraction.
"Hey captain, this fine young man could use our help." Carlos said. His gaze shifting between you and Mikhail.
Mikhail observed you, you noticed some scars on his face. You walked further from them to gain some space. On the other part of the train, there were other survivors. At least they're helping.
You hear Mikhail's voice rip through the silence, "Carlos, you didn't even think to ask fine young man his name?" Mikhail asks Carlos.
"He is one of the elites in R.P.D. Special Tactics and Rescue Service." Mikhail added. "His name is... something... [Last name]."
You pull a polite smile, "It's [Name]. [Name] [Last name]." You answered. You sat yourself down, just in front of Mikhail.
"Nice to meet you, [Name]. I am U.B.C.S. Platoon leader Mikhail Victor." He introduced himself. "My team was sent here to rescue civilians." He gestured at the survivors.
You hear Mikhail grunt, he grips his side. Your gaze shifts to him. "Uh-huh. And how's that going for you?" You ask him.
Mikhail looks up at you. "The city is completely cut off. Isolated." He responds. "Most of the hundred thousand civilians will wind up dead." He pauses. "Ah, correction: undead." He adds.
You almost snorted. Almost. You can't let yourself lose it just hecause you had bad humor.
"My platoon has suffered serious losses. Just keeping them alive is more than I could manage." Mikhail mumbles under his breath.
Oh.
You slowly nodded, your gaze dropping on the ground. "I'm sorry for your loss." You mumbled. You weren't all too heartless.
"Yes, well... We are doing all we can. If we get this subway train moving." Mikhail said. "...We can evacuate some survivors." He looks up at you, "But we need help. My men cannot do this alone."
You hesitate, Wesker might need to wait for that report. "Alright.. I'm in." You nod. Giving Mikhail a curt smile.
"Thank you, [Name]." Mikhail nods in appreciation.
"Alright, supercop. Here you go." Carlos hands you a walkie-talkie. "We can use this to stay connected."
You take the walkie-talkie, your hand brushing against his. Your gaze flickers up at Carlos, he gives you a small smile. "I know what a radio is.. But thanks." You chuckled.
Do you have any ideas on a Luis Serra x Male reader/character story from when he was still working for Umbrella? I can't help but wonder how he would've been in his "prime" so to speak, would he have been a bit more serious even if he still used humor as a way to cope? Would the reader be the only person to pull him from his ambitions? Sorry for the rant, its just such an inexplored part of him for being such a popular character.
Hihihi! So I do have an idea in mind!
Spoiler alert
For my first idea—in the main story I'm currently working on—you will find a picture of Luis serra attached to a cork board in an abandoned office (this will be a flashback), and you will search for every single person from that picture. But you're specifically only attracted to Luis Serra. Questions will fill your mind: "Who is he?", "why does he work here?" Etc.
For a side story (I decided to name these fillers while I work on the main story line.), you and Luis both work for laboratory 6. Andddd things get sticky in the lab 👀
I love your idea on Luis being serious while he uses humor to cope! I'm pretty sure we all do
hello. i saw your request for recommendations on where to get started regarding RE’s story and how to get caught up quickly—although that was a few days ago, i hope i’m not too late. if i’m not, i hope this is useful for you.
since you did mention your attention span being somewhat fried (which, me too), i’d like to present to you the 1h 51 min long summary on yt made by NeddyTheNoodle. i found it very useful, as you can learn most of what is of importance in the franchise in under two hours with the video, and if you choose to watch it, i hope you do too.
as an alternative, much shorter option, maybe try the recap video made by IGN on yt as well, though i’d personally recommend the longer option instead, since i feel like knowing something in depth is definitely better, but at the end of the day, it is your choice to make. (the amazing secret third option is either watching gameplay or playing but you did imply that was somewhat out of the question so i guess not)
on a separate note, i also noticed you’re exclusively writing male reader, which.. thank god, i’ve been looking for male reader writers because gn reader doesn’t satisfy me enough and i can’t keep setting for fem reader. no shade at all, but sometimes i prefer my smut where the reader is taking it up the ass somewhere else. i’m a fan now. i read the wesker one as a wesker-fixated person, and your writing is good, so i’d love to see more from you. keep it up.
(also sorry if i somehow? misunderstood what you asked for, or if my tone is standoffish, i aimed for neutral. if so, sorry a thousand times more. and sorry an additional time for the length of the message.)
Hello! Thank you sosososo much for the recommendation! I've been catching up on some summary videos (I'm not gonna lie but I get fixated when the narrator's voice is juicy) and of course the myth, the man, the legend, Kubzscouts' gameplay/playthroughs. I really wanna save up so I could play some RE games in the near future, but of course some of us focus on needs rather than wants which is totally fine.
Thank you so much for the compliments! Me personally I've been searching near and far for each single resident evil males x male reader, not even a various. So I'm really happy that you appreciate my exclusivity for Male readers, cause honestly? You guys deserve more attention. I totally get the GN reader ones, it just doesn't feel exclusive enough, or paying attention to our own gender. Some of us guys deserve male attention from buff guys from RE. And yes, Wesker does in fact deserve all that ass.
Again, thank you so much for the recommendation, anon! This is my first time actually getting a anonymous question/recommendation. No need to apologize! In fact I am very very very happy! ♡♡♡
✧—𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: Hello, Keith here! This is my first ever story and fanfiction that I have posted online. I was heavily inspired by @lefteagleblizzard ever since I started to read his stories here. I would like to thank him and everyone reading this! I hope you enjoy!
✧— Approximately 1,000 words.
You worked at Umbrella Corporation, the pharmaceutical every college student dreamed of after getting their bachelor's degree in chemistry. However, it wasn't actually a pharmaceutical or any typical lab work. Once happy, twinkly-eyed college students stepped into the Umbrella Corporation, there was no way out.
Once they signed those papers, they thought they could become a better person. They wanted to make and find solutions for incurable diseases, research newly found diseases and virus threats all around the world. Those dreams immediately came crashing down once they signed their name on that paper, every single newly graduated student screamed and cried as they begged for mercy when they wanted out.
But you? Oh, no, no, no... (You're not like other boys).
You didn't fight back, you didn't even think about leaving the place. You were fascinated with Umbrella's gruesome work, so much that it made someone... turn their head.
It was none other than Albert Wesker, a man who you've never seen take off his sunglasses, even inside enclosed spaces. You found it weird—odd, even—but you minded your own business.
Albert would loom over you as you worked, watching as you conducted your research and glancing at you whenever he got the chance. It almost feels like you have a stalker. Albert was a very professional man—he would keep things to himself, which made it very hard for anyone to see through him. But you didn't really care about that, if there's anything creepy here—it's those experiments.
It wasn't really creepy for you, of course. If anything, you had fun injecting viruses and watching the veins of the patients pulse and throb underneath the thin layer of skin. You loved all the creations equally, they all hold a special place in your cold blooded heart.
Timestamp — September 27, 1998
You've been working for the Umbrella Corporation as a Virologist for quite some time now. You love your job, you love it so much you technically live in the lab by now.
You stare at your computer screen as you drink the last bit of your now cold, and empty black coffee. You swore you drank at least 2-3 times a day, and it still hasn't come to grab you by your ankles.
Sighing heavily, you grab a pen and start to jot down some notes you've found about your research on a virus you've been studying. Your glasses slip off your nose bridge as you shift around your seat, you hastily fix it before flipping the page of your almost filled notebook.
As you write down important notes about the virus, footsteps would be heard coming closer. You didn't bother to turn around or even glance behind you, if it was an infected, you would've grabbed a gun by now.
You can feel Wesker's burning eyes observe the back of your head.
"[Last name]... I have a job for you." Wesker announced, his head lowering slightly to look at you from where you're sitting at.
You fix your posture and the way you were sitting. The chair spins as you turn to face Wesker.
"What is it?" You croaked. You take off your anti-radiation glasses, placing them gently on your table.
Wesker steps closer to you, his hand moving from his side to cupping your jaw. He tilts your head up, shifting your head from left to right before speaking.
"You're a good boy, aren't you?" He started. You can feel his piercing eyes even through his sunglasses.
"What's that supposed to mean?" You raise an eyebrow, rather surprised by the question. Does Wesker have some sort of kink? Or was he trying to play with you? Sources were unknown.
Wesker breathes out of his nose, "I want you.. to retrieve the G-virus from Annette Birkin." He said as his hand traveled from your jaw to your cheek, feeling the coldness of your skin due to the air conditioning that's been turned on since the morning.
Your gaze flickers to his hand and back to him. "Can't you do it yourself?" You asked, slightly leaning into his gloved hand. "You and Doctor Birkin were.. allies, that's for sure."
You watch Wesker's lips turn into a fine line before speaking up once more, "Listen, [Last Name].. Annette sees me as a threat. Not only that, she's also an obstacle to my plans." He said as he slowly moved his index finger from your cheek to your neck. "And simply because your pretty face is all I need to get the G-virus. You're more than capable." His lips twitch to curve before it drops back down to his natural small frown.
You gasp as he wraps his fingers around your neck, squeezing it ever so slightly as if he's warning you.
"What's it for me?" You asked, raising your brow. You could at least have a vacation, or getting your hands on a new virus that Wesker found.
"You?" Wesker almost barked out a laugh, but he always stays professional. "I assume this will do." He murmured before leaning down to come closer to your face, he was only a few inches away. Your eyes dart down to his lips, leaning in slowly as your eyes flutter shut.
You feel pressure against your own lips as Wesker leaned in, his lips were slightly chapped compared to yours. Before you could wrap your arms around his neck to lock him into you, he pulls away.
Your eyes flutter open as your gaze shoots up to his face, he straightens himself before turning away. "That's it?" You asked, furrowing your brows.
Wesker looks behind his shoulder, "You'll get more when you deserve it." He answered, you caught a hint of mischief in his tone. He turns his head to face forward before leaving you alone in the lab.
You sighed heavily as you leaned against your chair, "Curse you, Wesker... you'll be the death of me." You muttered under your breath, but your words weren't laced with frustration or malice.
It had me thinking.. Re2 Leon and Re9 Leon, BUT they switch timelines? Maybe something with Zeno Wesker and it causes them to switch places... So Re2 Leon is with Re9 reader, and Re9 Leon is with Re2 reader? I'd imagine they would have to be two fics... But just a thought ^^
Stay safe Blizzard!! And I hope your allergies go away soon ^^
-🫀🌸
(☆▽☆)
I can already picture RE2 Leon, while riding him, asking Re9 reader for like the twelve time if it’s true they are married, all while being red and breathless.
Meanwhile, in the past, Re2 reader is getting his guts completely rearranged in pure bliss.
If you like dispatch and you want a request you can always request me!!! I love dispatch currently and so I’m am super excited to write request for it!
I’ll write for Flambae, Robert, Waterboy, and Phenomaman!
I do smut, fluff, angst I write all forms of fiction so if you have an idea of a fic request it and I’ll write it!
STRIKEOUT. ( PART 2 ) — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER
Summary: An after-party. A conversation-turned-confrontation. Kenji finally meets the esteemed Toyo Bullet and struggles to define the difference between anger, terror, and infatuation.
# # TAGS: Even More Tension, Kenji Has a Good Relationship with His Team, Intense First Encounter, Domestic Sato Family Shenanigans
# # WARNINGS: Mature Language, Alcohol Consumption, Nothing Too Crazy, No Beta Again We Die Like Onda
Note: Okay, here we go: the actual second part. Again, I am so sorry for accidentally publishing my draft earlier — I am ill with embarrassment. But I’m very happy to know that people look forward to it! If you read the false-post, then you’ve only read half of the chapter. This one has over 3000 words more! Enjoy.
“It was a nail-biter of a game here at the New Tokyo stadium tonight, folks. Right off the bat, both teams were going neck and neck, toe-to-toe. And it seemed like neither one was willing to give an inch! Our home team managed to pull off a narrow victory in the end, and by narrow, I mean narrow, Kiba.”
“That is absolutely right, Sasaki. I truly have never seen anything like it in my entire career. And you know- you know I know a lot of baseball. You know I’ve been doing this for many years, but wow! Just- insane.”
“Truly a close call. Eight additional innings? To break the tie? I cannot believe it. Let me tell you, neither the Hiroshima Toyo Carp nor the Yomiuri Giants wanted to lose today.”
“If you look at the crowd, It looks like everyone’s been wanting to go home.”
Exhausted was an understatement. Kenji hadn’t felt this drained after a game since, well, only months ago: when he was still juggling the responsibilities of raising a baby Kaiju, carrying the weight of being Ultraman, and maintaining his reputation as a well-known baseball player. All of these, on top of the sleepless nights, no longer hindered him from his work. He usually left the stadium feeling brand new every single time — regardless of whether they won or lost. He had grown and learned to lean on people, to ask for help, accept defeat. Which was good and all that, but the point was: he was exhausted from this game. You had him panting for air like an overworked dog.
Shimura had Kenji on the field for longer than he should have been. While his younger, more egotistical self might have loved his moment in the spotlight, running base to base for six innings in a row was unsurprisingly really tiring. The teams had hit a clean tie by the ninth inning, and the tie-breaker lasted for eight more. You were eating their rookies alive and having their journeymen for dessert. When Shimura realized that Sato was the only one batting your pitches, he had him play for every round after the tie. The only times Kenji wasn’t on the field was when you weren’t either. Which wasn’t a lot. It scared him how you looked like you could throw that ball for days.
“Hiroshima’s L/n is just- an absolute unit, isn’t he?”
“He certainly is, Kiba. He certainly is. I mean his performance was near inhuman tonight. Each pitch was a gem and we- he really wanted us to know that he’s here, he’s ready, and he’s willing to change Japanese baseball. He was a major force out there on the field.”
“I cannot agree with you more. But credit where credit is due, we all know that the only reason the Giants are coming home with tonight’s win is because of none other than Ken Sato himself.”
“That’s right, Sato really put up a fight. L/n was throwing him off balance every time, but he always found his footing. I think tonight might have been the hardest I’ve seen him work. You know he- he usually makes his plays look effortless — disregarding last season’s slump.”
“I say he held his own very, very impressively. The team was right to rely on him. I know we’ve spoken a lot about their tension, but I’d say it’s their dynamic that really drove the point home. They were like- mirrors of each other out there. When you put two equal forces together, they deflect. You know what I’m saying?”
Kenji’s hand shook with a weakness he wasn’t familiar with. He stared at his calloused palm and noticed his fingers twitching. Shit. It really was some game. He might have been hitting the ball, but he was barely getting it through the field. Not only were your pitches fast, but there was weight to them, too. He was witnessing the caliber of your capabilities; understanding why you were the talk of every city.
The rest of the Giants came walking into the locker room, jeering and laughing amongst themselves. “That L/n is a real piece of work, ain't he?” Shirakumo, number 24, sat himself next to Kenji, unlacing his shoe. “Never seen anything like it.”
“Did you see the look on Tateoka’s face?” Yuki laughed, smacking his thigh. “Dude was scared shitless!”
“Hey!” Tateoka frowned in reply, tugging his jersey off his arms. “You try standing in front of that guy and telling me you don't feel a little threatened.” He shuddered, remembering the look in your eyes. Dark and pointed and menacing. “He was staring me down like he was gonna—”
“Eat you alive?” Kenji scoffed.
The team went silent, then erupted into a cluster of teasing ‘oooh’s. God. It reminded him of highschool.
“Oohh, yeah.” Yamada, number 21, slid over to him with a teasing tone. He wrapped an arm around Kenji’s shoulder and squeezed him closer. “I don't think I've ever seen Sato so shaken!”
He laughed, playfully pushing him away. He was also actually really sore on that shoulder. Hell, he could already feel the pain he’d need to go through just to get up tomorrow. He was going to need another ice bath. The rest of the boys jumped in on the jokes.
“Did you see the way he was looking at you Ken?” Tokuda opened his locker, grabbing a shirt from the top shelf. He whistled. “Like he wanted your head on a plate.”
Tanaka chuckled. “He wanted you dead, man!”
Kenji rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Let's not get carried away. I never said I was shaken.”
“But that last bat was sweet as hell.” Yuki nodded. “I doubt any of us would've gotten through the guy if it weren't for Sato.”
“Well, duh.” Shirakumo shrugged. None of the Giants denied it. Ken was their star player. And tonight proved it more than ever. “We owe you for drinks, bud. Give us a date and we'll treat ya’ to someplace you like.” He slapped Ken’s back affectionately, which elicited a pained groan. “Shit, sorry.”
Kenji’s watch started beeping. He flinched at the sound, eyes widening slightly. “Uh, see you in a sec, guys. I gotta take this.”
He was there a moment, then gone the next. Kenji rushed himself out the hallways and into an empty locker room to answer Mina’s call. “Hey!” he greeted, anxiously. A screen projected itself from his watch and lit up his face. “Hey. Hi. What's wrong? Everyone alright? I know I said I'd be home soon, but the game took way longer than–”
He was interrupted by cheering. His father clapped and whooped with excitement as Emi occupied the background, screeching with glee. Kenji could see the ground shaking as she was jumping around and doing her special dance. One of Mina’s arms was protruding from the wall and waving celebratory flags. It immediately put a smile on his face, easing the tension from his shoulders. He was always happy to see everyone alright, and even happier to see them as their silly selves.
“Kenji!” cheered Hayao. “That was an incredible game! You were unstoppable!” The professor chuckled. Emi picked him up into a hug, slightly toppling the camera over. His legs swung like a ragdoll’s. “Okay, okay girl-”
Ken laughed, slightly shaking his head. “Easy, Emi. Put Grandpa down.”
“It was a very impressive game, Ken. Perhaps one of your bests.” Mina’s calculative yet affectionate voice echoed from his watch.
Hayao fell to the floor with an ‘oof’. “You didn't tell me you were playing against THEE Mets’ Bullet!” He scrambled to stand up, barely leaning on his cane. “I wasn’t even aware that he was signed into the Carp!”
Kenji’s smile immediately faded. “Okay.” He rolled his eyes. “He was alright, I guess. And we don’t actually know if he signed into it or if he was traded. We barely heard anything about him from the press.”
“Alright?” Professor Sato gasped, appalled. “Kenji, he was spectacular! He’s a lot like you, you know. I’ve always suspected that the both of you equalled in skill, but to see it in action? Phew.” He wiped some pretend sweat off of his forehead. “What a show! Eight extra innings to break a tie? Unbelievable! I highly doubt that he was traded. Who in their right mind would purposely lose a player like that?”
Kenji scoffed. “He wasn’t that good.” His sore limbs would like to say otherwise.
“He had you chasing after his pitches like a dog!”
“I don’t like that analogy.”
“I ought’ to rewatch that documentary they made about him. You know they’ve done studies on the physics of his throws.”
“Dad.”
“And how fortunate for Hiroshima to have gotten him out of all teams! I can tell that this season is going to turn around really fast. Just today he’s already scored-”
“Dad!”
“Oh. Sorry.” Hayao chuckled. “I’m just very excited to see the both of you on the same field.” Kenji sighed, nodding his head. “Anyway, congratulations on the win, my boy. I’m so proud of you. I always am. Get home safe. It may be late, but we still have a lot of leftovers from dinner!” Emi made a noise that let him know she was waiting, too.
Going home sounded like heaven. Ken wanted nothing more but to rest. Maybe kick back and have a chocolate shake while he and his family watched cartoons to fall asleep. It was the perfect way to end his night. It had been an unexpectedly long day and he looked forward to tomorrow’s well-earned break. Eight extra innings might even win him a second day of rest. Or a third, if Shimura agreed not to schedule him for the next game. Which, he doubted, if it meant you’d be playing.
“I’m on my way.” He ended the call, and opted to take the fastest way out, desperate to avoid the press.
Ken collapsed onto the floor, snuggling into Emi’s arm. Having washed up and eaten his dinner, he felt the last remains of his adrenaline-fueled strength die out like a dwindling flame. He felt as if his limbs were about to fall off. “Ugh,” he groaned. “I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.” Emi didn’t much care. She seemed to be preoccupied by the new ( gigantic ) stacking blocks that Mina made for her. Ken sighed, sinking deeper into her arm. “She always smells so good after her baths.” The baby Kaiju’s warm and heavy grasp felt like a weighted blanket. It was a comfort that Ken would find nowhere else.
Professor Sato walked past them, chuckling into his coffee mug. “That, she does. You should have seen her earlier, you know. I’ve never seen her so invested in a game.”
Kenji hummed. “Is that right?” He rolled onto his stomach, facing Emi. “Hey. Baby.” He poked her cheek. “Is that true? Did you cheer for Daddy? I bet you did.” Giving into his cuteness aggression he rubbed at her cheeks. Emi expressed her annoyance through a small squeak. “God, that mean old Bullet had Daddy running laps, didn’t he? We hate him, don’t we?” Kenji pushed her cheeks up and down, leading her into a nod. “Yes we dooo.”
Professor Sato laughed. “Whatever happened to sportsmanship?”
“Whatever happened to loyalty?” He pouted. “My own father, rooting against me. I would never root against you, Emi.” Wanting to return to her blocks, Emi lifted Kenji up by his torso and placed him on her head. The batter laughed, laying on her with no protest.
“What!” The professor exclaimed. “I never said I was rooting against you. I was just— feeling enthusiastic, that’s all. For both teams.”
Mina entered the room, her mechanisms humming faintly. “Good evening, everyone.” The Sato’s greeted her accordingly. “I have a message for Ken.”
The mentioned Ken slumped into his daughter, rolling his eyes. “Here we go. I bet it’s the press.” He scoffed. “Let me guess, at least 30 emails asking for my statement. Or, better yet, it’s Shimura warning me not to miss the next game.” He raised his fist, mocking a reporter’s tone: “We’ve witnessed baseball history tonight, folks! Blah, blah, blah.”
“Actually, it’s an invitation for something else.” Mina hovered closer. “An event.”
This caught his attention. Kenji tilted his head. “For what?”
“A party, hosted by various sponsors.”
“Bit too early for an afterparty, don’t you think?” Ken sighed, resting his head on folded arms. “We’ve only won one game.”
“I suppose it’s to celebrate Mr. L/n as well.” Mina would shrug if she had the shoulders to do so. “His coming to Japan is quite a big deal.”
“Great.” Kenji was half-asleep by then, eyes already closed. “All the more reason for me not to go.” The professor had settled himself onto one of the desks, getting into some light reading. Emi had grown tired herself, and decided that she was not interested in the blocks anymore. Waddling to her spot, (with Kenji still on her head), she yawned, and opted for some much-needed sleep.
Mina’s light blinked. “I think you should go, Ken.”
The rightfielder cracked one eye open. “And why would I do that?”
“I think it would benefit you to interact with Mr. L/n more.”
“Mina, that’s literally the last thing I want.”
“Is it?”
Ken frowned. “What do you mean, ‘is it’? Of course it is.”
“Your vitals seemed to say otherwise earlier.”
Kenji scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I was keeping careful watch of your vitals, as I always do. I have your daily status tracked and recorded.”
Kenji couldn't get rid of Mina’s voice in his head. Even amidst the warm crowd, with chatter swaying smoothly atop of light r&b music, he felt as if he could still hear her words ringing in the back of his mind. It remained vivid, though she had told it to him days ago. It was as clear as day. Like a broken record.
“Believe it or not, the heart beats differently for every emotion. There is a difference between fear, anxiety, excitement, and—”
Kenji stared at you from across the room, watching as you conversed with your team, nursing a glass of cold, hard whiskey. He watched as you bowed your head and smiled, listening for the faint, muffled sound of your laughter. He wondered what you were talking about; what joke might have made you grin that hard. He wondered why you seemed to illuminate a room, and why everyone seemed so drawn. His eyes were caught in the way the colorful lights sank into your hair.
“—Infatuation.”
You looked up, and your eyes met his. Kenji flinched. He felt his heart skip a beat. Shit, he thought. Mina was definitely going to catch that. She had probably already marked it down to tease him for it later. You held his gaze for longer than he could have standed and greeted him with that same annoying wink. The same one you gave him on the field. Confident, snarky, playful. You lifted your glass and took a sip, eyes still trained on his.
“What you may perceive as frustration for him might just be the opposite.”
Kenji's jaw clenched. Mina had no idea what she was talking about.
And he would prove her wrong tonight.
Like a soldier marching into battle, he waded through the party to make his way towards you. Was he intimidated? Yes. Unfortunately, he was. But he knew his way around a crowd, and his weapon-of-a-tongue knew all the right talk to make a conversation work. He was sociable like that. He was a poet, a wordsmith. If you weren't careful, one little exchange could have you wrapped around his finger. Some people called it his charisma, some blamed it on his irresistible good looks. Either way, Ken took it. He wasn't going to deny the fact that people loved talking to him — though he, admittedly, didn't really like talking to them in return. But he could do it. He could make it work.
Besides, how bad could you be?
With a newfound confidence, Ken dared to get closer. The distance between you and him lessened, and– oh, fuck, was that your cologne? He blinked. You smelled so good. Why did you smell so good? “Hey. Hi.” Shit. Abort mission. No, it's too late. Too awkward to back out. You were already looking at him. “L/n, yeah?” He spoke your name like he only just remembered you upon seeing you. When in truth, he hadn't stopped thinking about you since that damn first pitch. “Some game, huh?” Ken held his hand out for you to shake. ‘Fuck, I hope he doesn't notice how clammy it is.’
“Ken Sato.” It was the first time he heard your voice, as well as the first time he heard you say his name. He didn't like how his body reacted. There was a small shiver down his spine, a tingling flutter in his chest. You took his hand. Yours was cold. So cold. Kenji concluded that the icy glass of whiskey you had placed on the counter was to blame. He could feel your callouses against his. Your hands mirrored one another, marked with the battlescars of your sport. He was oddly sensitive to every detail. Touching you was.. a sensation.
You gave him a firm shake before promptly letting go.
“That's me,” he said, miraculously. Ken was oscillating between panic and confidence at a speed that likely wasn't normal. He was holding his own, though. Like the real champ he was. It was surreal to be standing in front of you without a ball to keep you apart. No bat, no competition. Just you, and a few shots of alcohol. “You adjusting into Japan alright?”
“As well as I can.” You shrugged. You had a tone to you; an elegant air of grace and self-assurance. You had no need to raise your voice because you knew he'd do his best to listen. It was pissing him off. “It's definitely different from the States.”
“I gotta say, I'm pretty surprised to see you here.” Ken usually knew what to say when it came to conversations. He never blanked out at interviews, nor left dead air hanging at conferences. But speaking with you made him feel like his vocabulary was on a limit. “After a game like that?” He whistled. “A lesser man would've taken a week off.”
“But we're not lesser men, are we, Ken?” A waitress passed by. Without the need to look, you had grabbed two shots of vodka from her tray. You handed the other one to him. “That's why you're here, too.”
He stared at you, brows furrowed slightly. “Exactly.” He took the shot from your hand and bumped the rim against yours. “Cheers.”
You grinned. “Cheers.”
Kenji tilted his head back, downing his drink, tasting the fire run down his throat. His face screwed up a little, but not enough for you to notice. You did the same, sighing the heat out of your nose. You allowed a small laugh to slip past your lips. “Japan’s liquor is surprisingly stronger.”
Kenji chuckled. “Yeah. If you know where to look.” The music felt like it was growing louder. He leaned in to speak to you better. “You know, I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting.”
You nodded. “Neither can I.”
“The Mets and Dodgers have always been at each other's throats, and yet—”
“Our schedules just never lined up.” You scoffed. “What are the odds of that, huh?”
It really was such a coincidence. If Ken had known that your interactions would've fired the press up as much as it did now, he would've fought to face you sooner. “When was it?” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Playoffs. 2019, I think. The Mets were set to face the Dodgers.”
“2019,” you repeated, brows raised. “I was there.” Kenji took notice of the way your head slightly shifted to the side. Like you were trying to get a better look at him. He swallowed thickly. “I was there.” You shrugged. “You weren't.”
“I was overseas.” He was wanting another drink. But, speaking to you was surprisingly not horrible. “Didn't get back until 3 months in. And when I did—”
“I wasn't there,” you chuckled. “Alright. I remember. 2019, I was gone for half the season. Injury.”
“The world was in shambles.” Ken grinned at you. A second waiter passed by. He grabbed you another glass of whiskey. He took scotch for himself. “See what I mean? It's like– divine intervention.”
“Big word.” To say that fate had a hand to play in yours and his meeting was beyond your beliefs. You didn't place your trust in things like that. But to know that he had thought about it was charming.
“Hey.” Ken shrugged. “Ya’ never know.”
The music shifted, and so did the lights. There was a moment of quiet between the both of you, and in that time, you found a common interest in people-watching. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, nor the absence of something to talk about. The two of you merely agreed upon the minutes it took to watch the party unfold. A good number of the guests were already drunk. The dance floor was alight and occupied mostly by women. Ken rested his weight on one foot, sighing at his still-aching muscles. He wondered if you were any sore too.
“They love it, don't they?” You leaned your back against the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Ken took quick notice of the necklace worn loosely around your neck. A silver dogtag, similar to his. “The drama. The intensity. Even the things that go on beyond the field.”
Ken shrugged. “It's baseball. Who doesn't?”
“Exactly.” You smiled. “Which is why it's important to always let the home team win the first game.”
It took a moment for Kenji to process what you said. He was distracted by the colorful lights, his favorite song coming on, and a tray full of hors d'oeuvres. “Mhm.” He reached over to take one, before— “Wait.” His brows knitted together. “I'm sorry, what?”
“Hm?” You had your lips pressed together into a thin line. Your expression feigned innocence, a stark contrast to your bold statement. “I said it's important to let the home team win the first game.”
Kenji made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. He couldn't believe his ears. Had he been standing by the speakers for too long? “No, I heard what you said. What I'm asking is what you're saying.” It was a dare of a reply, with a tone that commanded: go on. Clarify.
Your smile refused to leave your face. Nearing the batter, ever so carefully, you whispered:
“I'm saying you won because I let you.”
Kenji blinked.
And there it was. He knew you were too good to be true. Goddammit, he knew it! Beneath your seemingly-perfect self was something cold and rotten and he called it. He fucking called it. How thrilled he was to be correct, and oh, how utterly terrified.
But this was good. This was absolutely good. He needed something to hold onto, something to keep himself afloat. The next time he found himself drowning in your eyes again, he'd only need to remember that you were a grade A asshole. That you had the audacity to claim that you were in full control of the game. Surely it would solve all his problems.
Kenji broke out into a laugh. It started out as a small cluster of sarcastic chuckles, but erupted into actual laughter. You were funny. So, so funny. Unbeknownst him, you were watching with amusement. “Because you let me!” Kenji repeated, smiling, but, exasperated. Two can play at that game. “Right. Of course. Totally not because you're an average pitcher and I can bat anything you throw.”
“If that helps you sleep at night.” You shrugged. Your attention wasn't on him anymore. You were watching the crowd, disinterested.
Kenji felt his eye twitch. “That's big talk coming from someone who got struck out by a rookie.” He was referring to the eighth inning, when Tateoka managed to bat your pitch into a homerun.
“That's right, Sato.” You laughed, low and sultry. “Batted by a rookie. How could I have struck you out at the last inning but be batted by a rookie?” You tilted your head at him, brows knitted together. You spoke in a sickeningly soft tone. Like you were helping a toddler understand something simple. “Doesn't seem to make a lot of sense, does it?”
Kenji was growing flustered. His face was warm and his fist was itching to meet your cheek. Nobody spoke to him this way. Sure guys had been mean to him before, but it was mostly because they were threatened by him. They'd tried to put him down and pick apart his flaws, but what you were doing was something different. You weren't claiming that he was weak, you were claiming that you were stronger. You didn't deny the amount of talent that Ken had in his body, but you were fully convinced that you had more. You were bigger, smarter, and better. And you had him under your control.
“Oh, c’mon. Seriously?” God, your voice. It infuriated him. It drove him insane. You leaned in, closer, whispering your words, as if hearing you through the party wasn't hard enough. He could smell the whiskey on your breath. It mingled with your cologne. It was intoxicating. “Are you blushing?”
He scoffed in disbelief. “No.” Except he totally was. He could feel the heat radiating off of his face. His breathing had gone shallow, his heartbeat rapid. “Why would I– Tch. You— You don't know what you're talking about.” Holy shit. He was a mess.
He wanted so desperately to blame it on the alcohol, but he knew damn well he wasn't drunk enough to be acting the way he was. He was stumbling over his words stone-cold sober.
You were smiling. He was dying, and you were smiling. “You amuse me, Sato.”
Ken took a cautious step back, knowing that being that close to you for too long was only going to make him worse. “Who the hell do you think you are, huh?” He had to retaliate somehow. Like a soldier fumbling for his sword, he had to get up and do something. “You don't think I don't know what this is? Where you're heading?”
You tilted your head. “Do enlighten me.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Sure. Celebrity-Athlete from America waltzes into Japan thinking he's the shit— that he can rule the world. He's a shiny new toy and everyone's just dying to catch a look. Nevermind that his old team traded him off, nevermind that he goes home to an empty penthouse. He's got the stats to prove his skills and he thinks he doesn't need anything else.” Ken dared to retake a step forward. He sort of regretted it when you didn't take a step back. “Well, guess what,” he continued. “I've been where you are. I know how you feel, what you're thinking.
Everything you're trying to be is a shadow of what I already was.”
There was a beat of silence. You weren't smiling anymore. You were staring at him, stone-faced, seemingly indifferent.
Kenji narrowed his eyes. “So don't go talking to me like you're any better.”
He didn't know what to expect. You were quiet for such a long time that he thought you were going to snap. He partially expected a punch to the chin. But you were calm. There wasn't a trace of irritation on your face. Instead, you set your glass of whiskey — now empty — on the counter behind you. With a sigh, you shoved a hand in your pocket. “Are you done?”
Kenji blinked.
“Let me tell you something, Sato.” You raised a brow at him. Ken felt his heartbeat pick up again. Your once-approachable gaze shifted into something cold and commanding. He swallowed thickly. “There is a difference between you and me. And that difference is the fact that I don't settle.”
Kenji was glaring at you, brows fixed together.
A teammate called you from the other side of the room. You nodded at him, once, then returned your focus to the Yomiuri Prince. You placed a hand on his shoulder, tauntingly, smiling at him as if you'd known him your whole life. “I hope last season’s slump accustomed you to the feeling of losing those points.”
Kenji wanted to say something, but his lips refused to move. Somehow, the blaring music in the background had faded into a muffled blur. All he could hear was your voice. Like a moth to a flame.
You winked at him. Again. And like before, his body reacted in ways he didn't like. You squeezed his shoulder once, before leaving to go to your friend. With your back turned against him, Kenji released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He clutched his chest, watching wide-eyed as you moved through the crowd. He could still smell your cologne. The last thing he heard from you was,
“I'll see you on the field.”
taglist: @fairy-lenaa @moonjellyfishie @witchygod — Thank you for your patience!
" I'M INTO GIRLS LIKE JENNIFER LAWRENCE, PLEASED TO MEET YOU ! "
" SENSEI, SENSEI ! "
yandere! jjk men x older! m! teacher reader
SO UNTOUCHABLE
" (surname)-sensei! "
...
how long had it been since someone called you that? did you still deserve the title?
your presence seemed to be a curse on the very building, but foolishly--selfishly--you returned a second time.
you only returned as a favor, you told yourself. as much as you loved teaching, you had to stay away from it, for everyone's sake.
you couldn't free yourself from the wisps of guilt that clung to you after you quit, tickling your eardrums as they whispered it was all your fault.
you did this.
you could've prevented it all.
" sensei? "
you blinked, finally looking over your shoulder to find the source of the noise.
...
that's right, you didn't have time to worry about that kind of stuff.
your students needed you.
" i'm on my way, itadori, you don't need to worry about your sensei this time. "
YET NOT SO CAPABLE
☺︎pairings:
satoru gojo x male reader, sukuna x male reader, geto x male reader, kenjaku x male reader, (?) mahito x male reader, choso x male reader, uraume x male reader (ish?)
TO CONTROL MY LOVE FOR YOU
☺︎warnings/tags
older! male reader, teacher! reader, yandere behavior (and all that comes with it, specific warnings will be included at the beginning of the chapters obvs), canon typical violence, somewhat op male reader? he's a special grade lolol, slowburn/edging u on the romance and yandere content, yaga as adoptive family, gay gay homosexual gay, unrequited feelings, reader is kind of like an oc, no physical features established aside from being tall but they have a personality, technique, backstory, etc, do with that what you will, probably will be somewhat ooc cause this is a yandere romance book and i fear jjk is a shounen, liberal use of the word sensei (you've been warned), all characters mentioned as love interests should get their own warnings except maybe choso and suguru
SO UNATTAINABLE
𝟐-𝟎 ; 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 " 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 " ☓
𝟐-𝟏 ; 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 ☓
𝟐-𝟐 ; 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫 ☓
𝟐-𝟑 ; 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 ☓
𝕶𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝕷. 𝕾𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖗 @keisnclr - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
