thragg x hero!reader where he doesn't understand how his best men could fall in love with something as insignificant as a human until he sees the reader fight several viltrumites and also sees the friendship between mark and reader, but thragg focus on the affection and protection the reader has for mark. and he gets obsessed. so he demands the reader's hand in marriage so many times and the reader still finds a way to slip through his fingers.
Trust the process
Omgggggg I love this idea
Thragg x reader
Don’t know if this is exactly how you wanted it but I hope you enjoy it! 🫶
Major Spoilers from comics!
Pt2
……………………..……………………..……………………..……….
You sniff, groaning as you try to stop the blood gushing from your nose. Soloing was probably the worse thing you could do while being angry. Not being levelheaded lead to you getting your head smashed into a wall.
Well, I won, so fuck them. You mused to yourself, sighing and stretching out your tense and sore muscles.
I think my bones have bruises…
“Human.”
“JESUS!-“
You jump, clutching your heart as your head spins to look over your shoulder at the 6’10 Viltrumite conqueror standing on the roof a little ways behind you. You were on patrol, Mark was still recovering from being hit with the Scourge Virus and you promised to look after earth while he was still on the sidelines.
You didn’t exactly expect to find him here…or did he find you?
“Holy shit…uh…hi?” You raised a brow at the man as he comes closer. You recognized him from a few weeks ago from the Viltrumite ship, he was the king…? Emperor? Something like that, all you knew was that he was powerful…important.
You stood, wincing slightly after the beat down you had just received. His brow raised slightly, dark eyes trailing over your figure. Your torn suit, the way the blood ash and dirt clung to you, your bleeding nose and split lip.
“I saw your little…spar. I must say, I’m quite impressed you held your own so well. I’m constantly reminded the will of the human race, quite fascinating.”
“Uh…thank you?” How were you supposed to respond to that?
He says nothing for a while, staring out at city as the sun crept lower to disappear into the sea.
“…you and the boy, you are close? You seem to care for him greatly, considering how you threatened to murder your boss.”
Did he mean Mark?
“Mark? Yeah, he’s my closest friend. He…he’s important to me.”
Thragg scowls slightly, lower half of his face buried into the white furs of his red cloak.
“Are the two of you…courting?”
You sputtered, cheeks rising with color, “what?! No! No…he’s cute, yeah, but I can’t like him like that. It feels…ugh.”
He casts you a look, eyes narrowed, “you said he was important to you.”
You huff lightly, “yeah…like a best friend or a family member.”
He hums, “yes…forgive me for my assumption.”
He waits again, the silence growing awkward between the two of you. He speaks again, low like a growl, like he couldn’t believe he was actually asking this.
“…so you are unclaimed?”
What the fuc-
“I-I guess? I don’t understand-“
“Mate with me.”
Your eyes turn to saucers, jaw dropping at his request. No, not a request, he was stating it like this was a done deal. You had no choice, in his head you were already his.
“Excuse me?”
“Mate with me. Bare me a child and I may make you my official mate. My wife as you call it here on your planet. You are strong, females here aren’t from what I can see, not like your strength. I need someone strong to handle me and the barring and birthing of my child.”
You didn’t know what to say, so you did the only logical thing you could think of in that second.
You jumped off the skyscraper.
……………….……………….……………….………………………….
No, you did not jump to your death, you did it to get the fuck away from the scariest man you’ve ever encountered.
Like, who the fuck dumbs that on someone you just met?!
It’s only gotten worse since that first meeting a few months ago, he’s been getting bolder.
At first, you thought it was a coincidence that he began to show up at your day job as a barista, didn’t even recognize him because he was in real human clothes. It was only until one of your coworkers walks up to you with a scowl, murmuring that your “boyfriend” was an ass. You had quirked a brow, peaking over to look at your so called spouse when your heart stopped.
He was sitting at a table, tight dark grey shirt over his toned chest and meaty arms, dark blue jeans. There was nothing on the table in front of him, he was just…sitting there.
You swallowed, walking over and catching his attention almost instantly.
“…are you going to order something from the menu…sir?”
He looks at you, eyes narrowed as his frown grew. He looked hurt, if he could, and a bit offended.
“I would never ruin my body with your…human sustenance.”
God you hoped he didn’t say that to your coworker too.
“Sir-“
“My offer still stands.” He interrupted you, large hands clasped together on the table. His dark eyes watched you carefully, calculating, “no other female on this planet meets my standards…you are the closest thing to perfection I can get in this lesser planet. I wish for your hand. I want you to be my mate. I believe you can give me a superior offspring, one that might lead my people into a new age. I know you can give me that.”
A shiver ran through your body, and you swallowed. He was so…upfront, straight to the point like this was a business deal and not fucking marriage.
“I-“
“(Y/n)! Customers!”
“Look, I gotta-“
He stands, and you loose your breath at his height.
“I promise this to you…I will have you, but I will play this little game of yours. Until next time, mate.”
……………….……………….……………….………………………….
“And he won’t stop following you?” Mark asked, mouth full of fries as the two of you sit on top of Burger Marts roof.
“No! It’s driving me crazy! It’s been going on for weeks, Mark, WEEKS! He’s everywhere, Mark, I’m not even kidding. I’m at work, he’s waiting till I get off shift. I’m at the grocery store, he’s reaching to help me to the top shelf! I’m at college, he’s reaching sits and waits till I’m out of class! He’s legit, everywhere.”
You take a bite of your burger, “I’m honestly surprised I haven’t found him in my apartment yet.”
Mark laughs, feeling slightly bad for you, “hey…on the bright side, you aren’t getting cat called anymore because now you have a Doberman following you.”
“Ha. Ha. Not funny. Mark, he won’t stop asking me!”
Mark sighs, playful attitude lessening, “ I’m sorry, (y/n)…I wish I could help but everything is so tense right now with the Viltrumites and with Allen-“
“Mark, no, it’s fine. It’s just…I wonder if he’s ever gonna give up. I might have to just…ride this out until he gets bored of me I guess.” You throw your head back, dumping fry bits into your mouth.
Mark frowns, feeling terrible. He knew Thragg wouldn’t give up, he’d push and push until he had you. Willing or not.
And right now, you were the only reason earth hadn’t been destroyed yet…but he wasn’t going to tell you that.
I’m sorry for adding to your long list of Zeno requests, but I just want to get this fantasy out there, up to you if you want to write it! ☺️
Zeno’s reaction to his femme S/O convincing him to sit in a chair and let her tie his arms to the armrests (if it’s even possible to convince him, truly restraining him here is an illusion anyway 😅). She wants to try a few things out that he’ll hopefully enjoy, but she doesn’t want him to touch her just yet. Said things she wants to try include a striptease, slowly revealing the lingerie set she’s wearing, and giving him a lap dance. After teasing him so much, she rewards him with a breast job, sucking on his tip on every upstroke, then giving him a proper blowjob. At this point I feel like he would break the restraints and punishments would incur... 👀
Thanks for reading my filth. And thank you so much if you write headcanons! 🖤
BABE. I LOVE THIS. Sorry if this is short, it's nearly 2 AM 🤧
Rating: 18+, MDNI. Obviously lmao
CWs/tags: fem!reader, restraints, edging, degradation, face-fucking
Crossposted to AO3 @ SchrodingersJigsaw - how is there no tag for Zeno yet on AO3??? I gotta fix this smh
Giving up control doesn't come naturally to Zeno. Whether that be in every day life, or in the bedroom, he's used to having full control over situations. So, letting you tie his wrists to his desk chair so you can do god knows what is a little unnerving, to say the least.
It's hard for him to say no to you, though, when your mouth feels so good on his neck.
"Too tight?" you murmur as you slip two fingers under the restraints, making sure they're not cutting off blood flow. They're just two of his ties that you stole, but still. He almost doesn't hear you at first, head tipped back, distracted by the feeling of your mouth on him. You'd find the trust he has in you endearing, if you weren't so focused on driving him insane.
"They're fine." His hands flex over the chair arms, as if testing how easy they'd be to snap if he wanted to. He could, but he doesn't, and you reward him with a kiss, one that he chases with a growl when you pull away to stand in front of him.
You start with your blouse, slowly undoing the buttons as molten amber eyes glare up at you. They track every inch of skin you reveal, pupils dilating when you shrug the silky fabric off your shoulders to reveal ivory lace covering your breasts. His hands flex again, the peak of his cheekbones going red from the way you grin at him.
"You're testing my patience." The low rasp of his voice makes your stomach flip, heat pooling low in your gut.
"That's the point, isn't it?"
His eyes narrow, head cocked like a pissed off cat, but there's no real anger there, especially with the way he tenses when your fingers trail along the zipper of your skirt.
"Darling..."
You take mercy on his vain attempts at being in control here, pulling down the zipper at a speed that is nothing short of agonizing for him. The skirt pools at your feet and you step out of it, leaving you in just a lingerie set that color matches perfectly with his favorite suit.
His gaze trails over your thighs, your hips, greedily drinking in every lush curve, so distracted by the sight he's startled out of his reverie by you dropping to your knees in front of him. He moves as if to touch your hair, only to glare daggers at the restraints when they keep his hands in place.
"Poor Zeno," you coo, taking far too much joy in using the same mocking tone he likes to use on you. Your fingertips slide up his leg, smoothing the fabric of his slacks until you can lightly drag your nails over the bulge in them. His eyes flutter shut, breath shuddering as he tries to control himself. "You just want to touch me so bad, don't you?"
"Don't be a brat." His words are all but a snarl, but they veer off into a groan as you put your hand flat against him, palming him just hard enough to feel his cock twitch. Your own arousal is getting hard to ignore, the gusset of your panties saturated with your slick, but you're determined to see this through.
"I don't quite think you're in any position to tell me what to do." Before he can get too worked up about that comment and break the restraints, you distract him by unzipping his slacks, running your tongue over the bulge in his boxers before taking his cock out. He's already rock-hard in your hand, the tip leaking--you wouldn't have thought teasing would get to him this much, but it clearly is, especially with the almost pained sound he lets out when you take your hands off him.
"You're not playing fair." You take no small amount of pleasure in how breathless he sounds, or in the way his gaze turns rapturous when you unclip your bra and let it slide off your shoulders.
"Oh, hush, you'll get what you want," you scold playfully, leaning behind you to fish a bottle out of the pocket of your skirt. The lube is cold as you pour some on your chest, a little shiver running through you as you rub it between your tits. He looks adorably confused for a moment, brow furrowed as he watches you prepare.
"What are you-? Oh, fuck-"
His head falls back with a groan as you press your tits around his cock, the warm weight of him feeling like heaven. He tries to keep his eyes open and locked on you, but when you start to move, and wrap that pretty mouth around his tip, he loses the battle quickly. His hips buck in shallow little movements, the angle giving him far too little leverage to fuck up into you properly.
"Feel good?" You lave the flat of your tongue over his slit just to hear him whine. The sound sends a jolt through you, your thighs pressing together hard to alleviate the ache between them.
"You goddamn brat," he hisses through his teeth, hands flexing against the restraints again. "Should make you choke on it for teasing me like this."
You grin, pressing your tits tighter around his cock. "Should. Can't." His eyes flash at the teasing tone to your voice, a growl rising in the back of his throat. You don't give him time to retort, not when you're pulling back enough to replace the squeeze your breasts with the warm wetness of your throat.
He bucks up into you, moaning at the way your throat constricts around his cock, his expression wonderfully debauched. His eyes crack open enough to gaze down at you, glowing amber watching your lipstick smear as you bob your head along his length. Your tongue traces the underside of his cock with every stroke, and you give his slit extra attention, moaning around him over the way he twitches in your mouth.
"Fuck, c'mon," he pants, the rasp of his voice teetering over into desperate. "Deeper, you can take it. I'm so close, baby, c'mon."
You obey him--partially--taking him down your throat until your nose is pressed against his abdomen, working deep breaths through your nose to keep from choking. Then you just... stay there. You don't move, mischief glittering in your eyes as you peek up at him, the startled, pained look on his face making your entire day.
"You- god fucking damnit," he all but snarls, the angle stopping him from properly fucking your face himself. His face is flushed high on his cheeks, any ounce of his usual composure gone. "Move."
You pull off slowly, careful to give him as little stimulation as possible before kissing his tip. "Say please."
With the way he balks at you, you'd think you'd just asked him to do something heinous. "You can't be serious."
You shrug, sitting back on your heels, idly running a finger up and down the underside of his cock. "I could just leave you like this. Would you prefer that?"
A muscle in his jaw feathers, teeth grinding together so hard you can almost hear it. He seems to genuinely be considering the latter option, but the ache in his core tips him back to the former.
"...Please."
"Hm, what was that? I don't think I heard you, honey."
"Please!" He means to snap at you, but it comes off far to whiny and desperate.
"Good boy," you hum, and promptly take him back down your throat again, the relieved whine he lets out going straight to your pussy.
He, wisely, doesn't tell you when he's getting close again, but the way his cock starts to spasm in your mouth gives him away. You let him get right there, and...
Stop again.
You think you've really gotten him, given the way he curses and squirms like you're hurting him. The power goes straight to your head, having such control over such a willful man-
You hear fabric tear to your right, and suddenly his hand is fisted in your hair, forcing you up and down his aching length. You choke at the sudden change in pace, but he doesn't let up, laughing breathlessly at the tears welling in your eyes. It's a complete 180 from how he was whimpering just a moment ago, and you think that perhaps you pushed him just a little too far.
"Fucking brat, does it hurt? Good." He frees his other hand, wrapping it tight around the back of your neck to keep you exactly where he wants you. You eventually get your bearings, fingers twisting desperately in his slacks to ground yourself as he fucks your face like a toy, his chest heaving with growls and pants. You moan around him as he uses you, eyes rolling back--you could almost come from this. "That's it, fucking take it-"
He pulls you down on his cock none-too-gently as he starts to come, holding you against the base while the thick liquid pours down your throat. "Swallow it," he snarls, keeping you pinned as you work to obey him, tears slipping down the apple of your cheeks.
He finally lets you off when he's satisfied, pupils dilating as he watches you sputter and gasp for air, recovering from the rough treatment. You don't get much time to recover, though, before his hands are around your waist, picking you up and pinning you to the smooth mahogany of his desk.
You squeal when he lifts you, and the smirk on his lips, the sharp gleam in his eyes, has you realizing you bit off more than you can handle.
"What, you didn't think I was done with you already, did you?"
Summary: Even after ten years you still mourn your husband, Albert. You didn't expect an intruder to look exactly like him.
SFW: thinking of Albert in the middle of the night, Silent hill vibes
Word counter: 1.2k
Note: This small drabble was inspired not only by James reuniting with Maria (please no spoilers I didn't finish that game yet) but also by this post right here. I really like Zeno, because he's a bratty version of Albert, who I adore. Loved his concept ngl!
Masterlist
Read before requesting
Another night, another time in this cold and empty bed. You were used to it. Even when your husband was alive you were always sleeping alone, waiting for him. Sometimes he came, but most of the time he didn't.
The life as the wife, now widow, of the infamous Albert Wesker.
It had been about ten years since his demise and even though you shouldn't be as upset as you are, seeing how cold and distant he was during your marriage, you couldn't help it. You loved the man. You loved how smart he was, how strong and even more how soft he could get when he knew that it was only you who was seeing it.
His kisses were robotic and calculated, almost tasting poisonous. Albert Wesker was poison you didn't mind taking. And now you were without it for a decade.
You knew he had also cared for you, maybe not in the way you did, but the whole plan to have both of you live in this apartment where no one knew where it was. It was all to have you secure if anything ever happened to him.
Every night felt like the loneliest night of your life. Albert had always made sure you'd never love anyone else but him and he didn't fail. You only wanted him. Ten years and you were still not over him.
You sigh, shifting on your back to look at the moon lit ceiling before getting up. The dryness in your throat was killing you.
The moment your bare feet hit the cool parquet the siren of your security alarm goes off, making you flinch. Immediately you grab the gun in the nightstand's drawer next to your bed, the one with Albert's and your initials carved in them.
Never have you used it besides the times Albert taught you how to protect yourself with it.
You should always be at the holding end of the gun, not the one who's getting shot. That's what he always told you.
A few steps away from your bed you trip over a huge box, having to muffle a pained scream from stubbing your toe. Angry tears form in your eyes as you look down, seeing the box with Albert's old stuff in it. All those identical shades and gloves that were probably stained with not only blood but also your tears.
“Bastard..”
You limp for a few steps while trying to keep your tears from falling, gritting your teeth at the thought of your husband and the brutal way he had left you behind all alone.
With a shaky breath you lean your body weight against the door to slowly open it, raising your gun into the void of the night. The trembling through your whole body continues as you walk through the huge apartment that you had to yourself, one that used to be as quiet but Albert's presence made it a little more worthwhile.
Walking past his now abandoned home lab where you had taken the box out of due to missing him a little too much lately. Your breathing was the only thing you could hear besides every small step you took.
You stop by the corner just by the living room, keeping your back against the wall to take a peek through the glass door. All your blurry vision could take in was the moonlight shining through the half drawn curtain. Someone was moving in the room, but all you could make out was a shadow in front of the window.
The moment said shadow turns to look in your direction you gasp and hide behind the wall again. You ready the gun in your hands and abruptly kick the door open, pointing the other end at where you last saw whoever was hiding in there.
You were breathing heavily, eyes adjusting to the dim light the moon gave.
The scent of smoke tingles in your nose, giving you a bad feeling. Your breathing grew heavier at being so exposed to whoever or whatever had broken into your apartment, something that Albert had promised would never happen.
“W-Who's there?!” The words fell out of your mouth, betraying your fear the moment they did.
A deep laugh escapes the void, shaking you to the bones, the gun trembling slightly in your grasp.
“Scared little thing. I see why he chose you. A mere play thing to toy with.”
The anger bubbles up within you, overtaking your fear in a heartbeat. Your gun was now firmly grasped without any hint of trembling.
“Show yourself!”
Something shiny flashes in your eyes, the moonlight reflecting on the person who was obviously mocking not only you, but seemingly Albert.
Your eyes widen as you see a silhouette that seems strangely and painfully familiar. Shades on the same nose bridge you used to kiss whenever you were alone.
Now you were back to your gun not as firmly in your hand, pointed slightly downwards. The disbelief written on your face clearer as fresh water.
“What? You look like..” that's when he stepped fully into the moonlit space in front of you. “..you've seen a ghost.”
“Albert..?”
The gun clanks to the ground, the sound startling you not for a second. Your feet react faster than your mind, moving in his direction. And your arms immediately find his waist, hugging him while your face presses into his chest. Your eyes were immediately filled with tears the moment you realized that this, the person you were hugging, was your husband.
“Albert.. Oh, Albert.. I thought.. I thought you were dead.. I thought you..”
Your hands snaked up to frame his face, to finally look at the man who made you yearn for the past ten years. Tears roll down your cheeks, the pain evident on every muscle of your face.
Wait.
No.
This..
This wasn't Albert.
You push yourself off of the stranger, a startled gasp leaving you. Your eyes were wide as you just stared at him up and down.
“Who are you?”
The stranger, who looked eerily similar to your Albert, grins and uses his hand which was covered with the same glove to tip your head up.
“What? Do I look like someone you know? Your boyfriend perhaps?”
You swallow a lump, heart beating faster and faster by the second. The tears were now mixing with the sweat your body was producing, too shocked at whatever was happening.
“N-No.. No.. My.. husband..”
His hand brushes hair behind your ear, cupping the side of your face to clearly study you. Your own hands come up to hold onto his arm, not to push him away but to just feel him. Hoping that he was Albert, but his scent gave it all away.
Albert smelt like clinical precision, experiments clinging to his body like a perfume that wouldn't leave.
But this man? He smelt like expensive scents and even tobacco. Your Albert never smoked or let alone let any cigar or cigarettes near him. People who smoke were weak and desperate to feel something.
A broken sob leaves your shaking lips, hands still keeping a trembling grasp on his arm.
“Shh.. I won't harm you.”
He pulls you back into his arms, hand at the back of your head to hold you against him. Not out of love or affection, but to keep you from running. Everything spoke against him being Albert. The way his words sounded too human like he was still thinking about how they would impact you.
The sweetness in his voice sounded like manipulative charm. Nothing like the robotic poison you were used to.
“You've waited for him,” he whispers into the night. “And now I am here. You won't have to mourn any longer.”
HC Preferences: Resident Evil Boys x Reader Taking Care Of Them
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♂️Male Characters:
Leon S. Kennedy
Chris Redfield
Albert Wesker
Carlos Oliveira
Piers Nivans
Jake Muller
Jack Krauser
Luis Sera
HUNK
Karl Heisenberg
The Merchant
Glenn Arias
Billy Coen
Zeno Wesker
------------------------------------
Leon S. Kennedy
At first, Leon brushes off your care with self-deprecating jokes like "I'm fine, really. I've survived worse than a scraped knee," but he secretly melts when you insist.
He has massive guilt from constantly putting himself in danger, so when you patch him up or make him coffee after a nightmare, he gets quiet and stares at you like you're a miracle he doesn't deserve.
Physical touch while being cared for, such as you washing his hair or massaging his shoulders, makes him close his eyes and sigh deeply; he's touch-starved from years of isolation.
He pretends to hate "being babied," but if you try to stop, he gives you those puppy-dog eyes and mumbles, "Wait... don't go yet."
Homemade meals hit him hardest; he eats like a man who forgot what real food tastes like on missions, then pulls you into a hug afterward, whispering thanks.
When you're bandaging his wounds, he watches your focused face and thinks about how you're the one stable thing in his chaotic life.
He reciprocates by being overly protective of you, but in quiet moments, he lets himself be vulnerable and lean on you.
Cuddling after you force him to rest? He turns into a clingy koala, burying his face in your neck and muttering that he could get used to this.
If you're running a bath or forcing him to sleep, he teases you about being his "personal medic," but his voice cracks with genuine gratitude.
Deep down, your care is slowly healing his burnout, he starts smiling more genuinely and even takes fewer unnecessary risks because he has someone waiting at home.
Chris Redfield
Chris is the ultimate "I can handle it" guy, but when you take care of him, he softens instantly; big tough soldier turns into a teddy bear.
He loves when you cook hearty meals; after missions, he eats seconds and thirds while telling you it's the best thing he's had in months.
Getting shoulder rubs or ice packs for his sore muscles? He groans in relief and pulls you onto his lap, insisting you stay there.
He worries about being a burden due to his absences, so your gentle insistence on caring for him reassures him that you're in it for real.
Post-mission, if you help him shower or change bandages, he gets emotional, quiet tears while he holds your hand.
He brags to his team about how amazing you are at taking care of him; of course in a proud, lovesick way.
He repays the favor tenfold; cooking breakfast in bed or carrying you around when you're tired; but he secretly prefers when you pamper him.
Cuddles are mandatory; he wraps his massive arms around you and sighs contentedly when you play with his hair.
If you're forcing him to rest, he grumbles playfully but complies because "you're the boss."
Your care reminds him there's life beyond fighting; he starts prioritizing home time more because of it.
Albert Wesker
Wesker initially scoffs at "needless coddling"; he's superior, after all but your persistence intrigues him.
When you prepare precise, high-protein meals tailored to his enhanced body, he raises an eyebrow in quiet approval.
He allows you to adjust his coat or smooth his hair only because it amuses him... and because your touch feels oddly grounding.
Wound care? He lets you do it with clinical detachment at first, but his glowing, fiery eyes soften when you worry.
He finds your concern both inefficient and strangely addictive; he starts "accidentally" coming home injured more often.
If you draw him a bath or insist on rest, he lounges dramatically while lecturing you... but doesn't actually stop you.
Your care challenges his god complex; he begins viewing you as a rare equal who can "handle" him.
He reciprocates with calculated gifts or protection, but never admits he enjoys being fussed over.
In private, he might lean into your touch longer than necessary, murmuring that "perhaps humanity has its merits."
Ultimately, your nurturing becomes one of the few things that makes him feel something beyond cold ambition.
Carlos Oliveira
Carlos absolutely eats up the attention. He grins like an idiot whenever you fuss over him.
He calls you his "personal angel" and dramatically flops onto the couch for you to pamper him.
Homemade food? He devours it and showers you with compliments and kisses.
If you're patching him up, he flirts the whole time: "Careful, doc, your bedside manner is dangerously hot."
He loves when you run your fingers through his hair or give him massages, he melts and gets all soft.
He worries about dragging you into his dangerous life, so your care makes him feel worthy of love.
He repays by being super affectionate; constant hugs, carrying you, spoiling you right back.
Post-mission cuddles are his favorite; he holds you tight and whispers how much he missed this.
If you're forcing him to rest, he pretends to resist but secretly loves being "taken care of."
Your nurturing makes him more open emotionally, he starts sharing fears he never told anyone.
Piers Nivans
Piers is quietly grateful; he's used to putting others first, so someone caring for him feels new and warming.
He blushes when you tend his wounds or make him tea, mumbling "You don't have to..." but never stops you.
He loves simple acts like you cooking or laying out clean clothes, he sees it as true partnership.
All those physical care like hair pets and back rubs makes him relax in a way missions never allow.
He opens up more during quiet moments of care, sharing stories from his BSAA days.
He reciprocates fiercely; always checking on you, protecting you but cherishes when roles reverse.
If you're insisting he rest, he complies with a soft smile: "Only because it's you."
Cuddling? He holds you like you're precious, breathing you in after long days.
Your care helps him cope with trauma, he starts sleeping better with you around.
He tells you quietly one day that you're the best thing that's ever happened to him.
Jake Muller
Jake acts tough and brushes off care at first "Jeez, Y/N. I don't need babysitting", but he secretly craves it.
When you patch him up or cook, he grunts thanks but watches you with softer eyes.
He melts during physical affection with his head on your lap, you running fingers through his hair.
Your insistence on him resting makes him feel safe for the first time in years.
He starts letting his guard down more, even joking about you being his "handler."
He repays by being protective and surprisingly sweet in private.
If you're caring for him post-fight, he pulls you close and mutters that he doesn't hate this.
Deep down, your nurturing heals his abandonment issues, he starts trusting you fully.
He gets clingy when tired, wrapping around you like he never wants to let go.
Your care makes him want to be better; not just survive, but live for someone.
Jack Krauser
Krauser growls that he doesn't need "pampering," but he doesn't pull away when you insist. Yes, he wouldn't pull away at all; being the stubborn oaf that he can be sometimes.
He secretly enjoys when you tend his scars or wounds, your gentle touch contrasts his harsh life.
He lets you fuss over him in private only, grumbling the whole time but leaning into it.
Homemade meals surprise him; he eats quietly, then pulls you in for a rough kiss as a form of gratitude.
Massages or hair play? He closes his eyes and relaxes more than he'd admit.
Your care softens his edges, he starts seeing you as his one weakness worth having.
He reciprocates with intense protection and rare tender moments.
If you're forcing rest, he smirks and says "Fine, but only if you stay right here."
Cuddles turn possessive, he holds you tight like you're his anchor.
Deep down, your nurturing makes him feel human again after years of being a weapon.
Luis Sera
Luis starts with his signature flirtatious charm, teasing you like "Mi amor, you trying to make me soft?" but he absolutely soaks up every bit of attention.
He dramatically flops back when you patch his wounds, winking and saying "Be gentle, doctor. I'm delicate," even though he's grinning through the pain.
Your homemade meals blow him away; he eats with exaggerated moans of delight, then pulls you close for a kiss, murmuring "This is better than any cigarette."
He loves when you fuss over his hair or adjust his coat; he leans into it with a lazy smile, eyes half-lidded in contentment.
Post-mission, if you force him to rest, he complains playfully but stays put because your worried look makes his heart flip.
He reciprocates with over-the-top romance like flowers, poetry, surprise gifts, but secretly craves your quiet, steady care more than anything flashy.
Nightmares hit him hard; when you hold him and whisper reassurances, he clings tighter than he'd ever admit.
Massages or running a bath? He melts completely, turning into a purring, affectionate mess who won't let you leave his side.
Your nurturing reminds him of a life worth fighting for; he starts being more careful on jobs because he has you to come home to.
Deep down, he feels like he doesn't deserve this kindness, but your persistence makes him believe maybe he can be more than just a charming rogue.
HUNK
HUNK is all business at first. Silent nods when you offer care, like "Unnecessary, but proceed." But he never actually stops you.
When you clean and bandage his wounds with precision, he watches intently, impressed by your efficiency (and secretly warmed by the concern).
He eats your prepared meals methodically, then quietly says "Adequate nutrition. Appreciated.", basically his version of high praise.
Physical touch is rare for him, so when you smooth his shoulders or fix his gear, he freezes for a second before relaxing minutely.
He worries your care could make him "soft," but he finds himself returning home faster after ops just to see you.
If you're insisting on rest, he complies without argument; sits still while you hover, mask still on but posture less rigid.
In private, he lets the mask come off more often around you, allowing small vulnerabilities like leaning into your touch.
He repays subtly; extra protection, leaving supplies for you, but your nurturing is the one thing that pierces his stoic shell.
Cuddles are awkward at first (he stiffens), but he eventually wraps an arm around you like it's tactical support.
Your care humanizes him after years of being a ghost, he starts valuing downtime and even cracks the rare, dry joke about "mission: recovery."
Karl Heisenberg
Karl laughs it off at first, "What, you think the big bad lord needs coddling?" but he doesn't push you away when you insist.
He dramatically presents injuries like trophies for you to fix, smirking while you work: "Careful, sweetheart, don't want to ruin the masterpiece."
Your cooking surprises him; he devours it with gusto, then pulls you onto his lap: "Damn, you trying to domesticate me?"
He loves when you play with his hair or massage his tense shoulders; grumbles about it but leans back with a contented growl.
Forcing him to rest? He resists with sarcasm but caves when you give him that look, muttering "Fine, but you're staying."
Your gentle care clashes with his rough worldview; he starts seeing you as the one "strong" thing worth protecting.
He reciprocates chaotically; builds you gadgets, shields you fiercely, but secretly adores being fussed over in private.
Post-fight cuddles turn intense; he holds you like metal to his magnet, whispering that you're his real power source.
Your nurturing chips at his lone-wolf armor, he opens up about Miranda, vulnerabilities he hides from everyone else.
Ultimately, it makes him want freedom not just from her, but for a life where he can come home to someone who cares.
The Merchant
The Merchant chuckles mysteriously at first "Got somethin' special for ya, stranger". He'll definitely be way too chill to let you fuss without protest.
He appreciates practical care: you sharpening his tools or prepping supplies earns a rare, approving "Heh, good eye."
If you cook for him, he samples with theatrical flair, then nods: "A fine trade, worth more than pesetas."
He enjoys when you adjust his coat or hat, stands still like a statue, but his eyes soften behind the shadows.
Wound tending? He guides your hands with gloved ones, murmuring "Steady now... that's the ticket."
Rest is a foreign concept, but when you insist, he lounges dramatically: "Only 'cause the customer's always right."
He reciprocates with "gifts" such as rare items, protection in shadows; but your care is the real treasure he hoards.
Quiet moments: he lets you lean against him, cloak enveloping you both like a secret shop.
Your nurturing makes him linger longer in one place; he starts appearing more often just to see you.
Deep down, the wandering merchant finds a "home" in your attention, he values it more than any deal.
Glenn Arias
Arias politely yet devilishly smiles at your concern; "You think a little care will fix what's broken in me?", but he allows it with dark amusement.
He watches you tend wounds with cold fascination, grey eyes tracking every gentle move.
Your meals intrigue him; he eats precisely, processes then with an almost warm smile comments "Efficient... and unexpectedly palatable, darling."
Physical touch unnerves him at first; he tenses, but he starts craving the contrast to his vengeful life.
Forcing rest? He lounges like a king, lecturing you on humanity's flaws while secretly relaxing.
Your care stirs old memories of loss, he gets quieter, more contemplative around you.
He repays with calculated protection and rare, intense affection; but never admits he needs this.
In private, he might pull you close, murmuring that you're the one variable he didn't account for.
It challenges his hatred against the world; he starts questioning if "resetting" the world means losing you too.
Ultimately, your nurturing becomes his secret weakness; the one thing keeping a shred of humanity alive.
Zeno Wesker
Billy Coen
Billy brushes off care at first "I'm fine, really", but his eyes soften when you persist.
He melts when you patch him up, mumbling thanks with a shy grin from his rough past.
Homemade food hits hard; he eats slowly, savoring it like freedom he almost lost.
Shoulder rubs or hair pets make him sigh deeply, he's touch-starved from years on the run.
He worries about endangering you, so your gentle insistence reassures him he's worth it.
He reciprocates protectively; always checking on you, but loves when you take the lead in care.
Post-escape cuddles? He holds you tight, breathing you in like an anchor.
If you're forcing rest, he complies with a soft "Alright, boss," smiling faintly.
Your nurturing helps heal his guilt, he starts sleeping easier with you nearby.
He tells you quietly you're the reason he fights to stay alive, not just survive.
Zeno regards your care with detached curiosity "Intriguing... a human impulse toward weakness.", but doesn't refuse. Unlike Wesker, Zeno may give you a chance to provide him gentle care, without any symptom of getting offended over being taken care of.
He allows wound tending with clinical interest, shade-covered eyes watching your focus intently.
Meals are analyzed; he eats methodically, then notes "Sustenance optimized. Acceptable."
Touch surprises him; he stiffens, but lingers longer than necessary, processing the warmth.
Rest? He reclines like it's an experiment, murmuring about "futile comforts" while relaxing.
Your nurturing clashes with his Connections programming; he starts questioning his "superior" design.
He repays with calculated intensity; protection, secrets shared, but craves your gentleness privately.
In vulnerable moments, he removes the shades, letting you see the flicker of something human in those golden eyes of his (if I'm correct, he did have golden eyes when he still had his powers).
It stirs buried echoes of Wesker's arrogance turned to doubt, he sees you as a flaw he doesn't want fixed.
Deep down, your care makes him feel less like a clone and more like something worth saving.
I love your writing & your yautja boys are so charming in their own way, it's hard to pick a favourite! 😍.
Can I ask their reactions be if their human is really good at singing (I mean siren singing & belts out notes) while doing mundane tasks? who in yautja boys secretly listens & pretends not to know or who praises & asks sing for them bluntly? (Maybe make it ironic if their human is singing songs like scylla from epic musical, my jolly bold sailor or Davy Jones from potc if you want to)
Oh anon 🥰 thank you for this cute prompt, I love seeing the boys in all kinds of different scenarios 🤭
A human with a voice like a siren, high notes, rich belts, ethereal sounds while just… folding laundry, cooking or cleaning weapons? And choosing sea siren songs about monstrous sea beasts, lost loves and doomed sailors? The irony is giving 😍 especially with these apex predators who hunt across galaxies but suddenly get hit with human myths that feel weirdly personal. Here’s how each boy handles it:
Keth’raal
He’s instantly hooked. The first time he hears you casually singing “Scylla” while scrubbing dishes, his mandibles flare wide in absolute fascination. He freezes mid walking, head tilting like he is analyzing his next prey… except this “prey” is making beautiful sounds.
He doesn’t pretend not to notice, he’s too young and too curious to play it cool. He will come closer, lean against the doorway with his arms crossed, trying (and failing) to look casual. “Human… your throat makes weapons of sound. Sing that one again. The part about the monster in the deep.”
He will bluntly ask you to perform for him, purring compliments like “Your voice could lure even a Yautja to their death… impressive.” And when you hit those siren highs? His purr stutters, mandibles click rapidly, he is flustered but owns it with cocky grins. He secretly records snippets on his gauntlet to listen later when he is alone on hunts.
Zha’kor
He hears you humming, “Cruel and cold like winds on the seas, will you ever return to me…”, while cooking, and he just… melts into the shadows.
Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t move. Just watches with glowing red eyes half-lidded, mandibles clicking ever so slightly . Your siren belts make his chest rumble with the deepest, quietest purr. He’s entranced, comparing it to ancient Yautja battle chants but softer, more charming in its pull.
He pretends he “just happened” to be there every single time. If you call him out he responds with a low chuckle, “Your noise… it carries. It’s hard to ignore.” But he never asks outright, he teases you into singing more by lingering closer, brushing his claws along your back mid-note, murmuring “Continue, little human. Let me hear how a siren takes her prey.”
He will sit in the dark hours later, replaying the echoes in his mind, letting your voice haunt him like a good hunt memory.
Tarr’kon
He’s not prepared. At all.
You are belting “My Jolly Sailor Bold”, longing about a sailor who will never return, while polishing armor and his body goes rigid. Mandibles clamp tight, eyes narrowing. He doesn’t understand why a simple human sound makes his chest ache like an old wound reopening.
He turns away quickly, pretends to inspect weapons or stare at nothing. Growls low if you notice, “Focus on your task.” But he never leaves the room, just stays out of sight, listening in silence.
He won’t praise or ask, but if you sing when you think he’s gone? He lingers longer than necessary. Once, after a particularly beautiful belt, he mutters, “Your voice… is strong. Like a warrior’s cry.” Then storms off before you can respond, but deep down your singing soothes parts of him he thought were dead forever.
Kel’Rakur
The second you start siren-singing “Hear my voice sing with the tide, my love will never die…”, he’s right there, crowding your space, his big hands on either side of you against the counter. Grin wide, mandibles flared in delight.
“You’re trying to lure me to my doom? Because it’s working.” He laughs, deep and rumbling, then demands “Sing it again. Louder. For me.”
He will bluntly praise you, “that throat of yours could bring down ships. Do it while I hold you,” and manhandle you playfully into his lap so he can feel the vibrations of your voice against his chest. Teases you mercilessly about the irony “Singing about sea monsters when you already have the biggest beast here.”
No secret listening, he wants front-row seats every time. And if you get shy? He will pull you closer “Don’t stop now. I like when my little siren performs.”
Who do you think would try to perform their Yautja throat singing to their human? 🤭 send me more prompt ideas I love writing those!!!🩵
this series will have: friends to lovers, reader is 25-30, leon is 51, age gap, nsfw, dark themes mentioned, alchohol, small portions of self harm are hinted/talked about, angst, fluff, smut, p in v, fem reader, oral (f and m receiving), dirty thoughts, c*m, soft sex, rough sex, fingering, handjob, graphic themes, blood, gore, body gore (zombies), Y/N and L/N may be mentioned a few times
A/N: AHHHHHH TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT ON MY FICS! IT MEANS SL MUCH TO ME! Thank you again lovelies and i hope u enjoy this one too! it’s a long one!🩷(requests are open! feel free to request or Q/A me!!)
Summary: After arriving to the hospital, a lady calmly explains that the ‘doctor’ is waiting for you. Shortly after disaster arrives and you encounter someone.
pt1, pt2
“Hey, I recently got a report of a missing police officer. Not sure if it’s related but the body was found near where the fifth body was found.”
“copy that, what more is there to this?”
A sigh is let out, “So far we’ve made a connection. Someone with ties to Umbrella. Victor Gideon. Victor purchased a building after Umbrella went under, i’ve sent the address to the other person assigned with you. Please head your way to the address.” Hunnigan says on the other end.
“Copy that, i’ll head over now.” you say while turning on the car and checking the address from Hunnigan that was sent to you.
“Tell me, what correlation do these bodies all have in common?” you say without taking your eyes off the screen in front of you
“They all look.. Dismantled, reports have said that the bodies are all almost close to eachother. There’s no connection between any of the victims either, just normal civilians.” You heard through your ear piece
“Copy that. Gps says i’ll be there in an hour, i’ll talk to you if I need anything” you say while getting on the highway to your destination. “Stay safe, i’ll update you on anything new”
“Copy that.”
Driving through and past Raccoon city was like reliving the trauma all over again. Everything looked different. After the explosion that destroyed most of the city, it’s been left abandoned and studied still to this day for any remnants of evidence towards the virus and making a cure.
“Hunnigan. You there?” you say while driving still yet. It was starting to turn dark. Water droplets, slow, calm, and steady started falling on your windshield, then pouring rain. Turning on your windshields to the max level to see the road ahead you await for Hunnigans response.
“Copy, i’m here. You doing alright?” She says through your ear piece. “Yeah i’m fine. Weather has took a massive change, besides that i’m almost there. Gps says ten more minutes” you continued on “Who’s assigned on this assignment with me?” you asked out of curiosity. You couldn’t help but wonder who else could be assigned such a dangerous task. Sigh you just hoped it wasn’t some newbie who will get killed instantly.
“I can’t give that information out yet, sorry. They’re trained tho, you two should be able to clear this and look for the suspect.” she says with a small hint of tiredness in it
“Copy.”
“Hey also, please don’t do anything stupid. I don’t wanna risk losing you too.” with a sad feeling behind her tone. You relax a bit at how Hunnigan is expressing herself for you right now. Trying to figure out how to make sure she was assured you’d be safe you blurt out to her “I won’t. Don’t worry, okay? I’ll update you throughout the mission.” you continue on “Also. Think I just arrived to our spot.” driving through the big gates you didn’t realize it would be at some fancy hospital. It didn’t look like one but the obvious sign stating the name pointed it out to you. “Are you sure this is the right place? Seems pretty calm.” with doubt raising in your voice
“Yes, i’m sure. Please head inside” she says. “got it. catch you later” saying a goodbye, as you finally arrived to the expensive looking hospital. You took note that another car was already there. You couldn’t figure out why it looked so similar either tho, seeing as it was the only car around you guessed it was your teammates one. Turning off your car you open the door and step out. The rain hits your skin instantly making the atmosphere feel even more unsettling. You grab your gun, ammo, and Combat Knife and connect them to your straps and the sides of your belt, you grab your flashlight and turn it on.
Heading straightforward, two large doors seem to be the first thing to catch your attention. Were there people inside? should you knock? You didn’t know what to do. As you raise your fist about to knock the doors open.
“Hello there, Ms. L/N. The doctor has been waiting for your arrival.” a lady says to you. She’s wearing professional clothing and has her hair neatly put into a pony tail. You took note that she also had a clipboard in her hands and a nice smile on her face.
“How do you-“ then interrupted “please come in. It’s raining hard. We don’t want you to get a cold now!” she says still smiling. Cautiously looking around first then taking a few steps inside you observe your surroundings, noticing the white and green color scheme going on in the hospital. You hear the lady clear her throat and she starts “Please follow me, Let me get you a room to rest while you wait for the doctor to visit you.” she says as she starts walking away. She didn’t seem like a threat but everything just felt off. You couldn’t tell what was happening. Who was this lady? a receptionist? a nurse? and who was the doctor? Could this doctor be Victor Gideon? you didn’t realize that you were following the young lady until she announced to you “Please wait inside and wait for the doctor to come. I have somebody else I need to check on.” She says and walks away, closing the door behind her. You looked at the now shut door behind you and sigh. Everything was going too fast for you to comprehend. Everything was weird.
Turning your attention back to the room, it looked like any normal doctors office room. An exam bed, chairs, necessities and equipment. Your eyes drag you to the empty chair, sitting in it while checking your gun to make sure it was reloaded. Then you heard it. A ear piecing scream of a cry for help. A lady’s scream that were followed by gunshots in the distance. Standing up fast and turning your attention to the direction you guessed it was coming from you held your gun and flashlight out as you slowly peaked through the door. Everything looked okay. But what was that just now? “This is how I die..” you mumble to yourself while walking towards the direction of the scream. Walking down halls and halls until you see it.. Blood. covering the floor and walls. Bodies littered. No.. they weren’t any normal bodies.. “This can’t be..” you whispered to yourself. trembling with fear as you hoped it wasn’t what it was. walking slowly across the pools of blood and splatter you make your way to a corpse. you guessed they had to be a nurse. Squatting down to their level as their body was leaned against the wall in the hallway. You lifted its head slowly and gasp at the sight. Fastly getting up and stumbling backwards into the wall. These weren’t just bodies.. Was this the T-Virus?! Did the lady do this? But your answer was wrong as a cut in half body caught your attention in your left side view.
It was the same girl from before. What was going on you thought to yourself. Stumbling backwards into the hall you meet yourself with something hard and unfamiliar. turning around quickly you realized it was an infected doctor wielding a machete with blood covering him. Without thinking you pulled out your gun and aimed for his head and shot him. It took about 4 bullets for him to drop dead and not moving. Hands still shaking you breath in and out trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Fuck, I need to get out of here and get reinforcement!” you say to yourself quickly and cautiously trying to make your way to the entrance only to be disappointed it was locked from the outside. Just contact Hunnigan. She’ll help out and get backup and unlock the door. Just as you were about to reach your earpiece a hand is placed on your shoulder and as fast as you tried to grab your gun, the mysterious person stopped you and turned you around.
Realizing who it was you were shocked but it seemed like they felt the same way.. Leon..
“What are you doing here?!” he yelled at you. Unlike him.. he never yells
What were you doing here? what was he doing here? “I-i-i could ask you the same thing!!” you say with a slight stutter after being caught off guard. Yeah you sounded stupid right now.. His right hand never left your shoulder while his eyes pierced into yours as if he was trying to possess you. you tried to move out of his grasp but his second hand comes up to your face, holding it tightly in a way as if he was seeing you for the first time in forever.
“Are you hurt? What are you doing here? Who sent you here? Aren’t you suppose to be at home resting?” raising his voice with every question while checking your face for any signs of wounds by turning your head from side to side and up and down. He never was this worried, neither was he this rough with you.
“I-I’m fine! I can ask the same for you now answer my question!” You yell back at him, grabbing his right wrist as a warning sign to let go of you. As if he noticed he hesitated and let go. You couldn’t read him like before. A few years ago it could’ve been easier to guess how he felt if you looked at him long enough but now days you just can’t.
“Who. Sent. You. Here.” He says. “I was sent here by Hunnigan. Now answer my question Leon S. Kennedy.” you snap back at him.
“I was assigned and informed by Hunnigan as well.” He let out a sigh. Taking note of his appearance he looked good.. really good. His jacket covering his muscular build, the way the veins in his hands popped out a bit, the stubble he had scattered all over him. He looked so good right now.
“Why are you only wearing that? You’ll catch a damn cold” he says, taking off his jacket immediately as if you were dying. Gosh. This was even a better view. The shirt was just perfectly fit on him as the way his biceps bulged and pecks showed through the shirt.
He wrapped the jacket around you and called your name which snapped you out of your daze. “Huh?- Oh uh thank you.” you say embarrassed that you were having such inappropriate thoughts about Leon right now. He was super close to you. His hand now back on your shoulder while gazing at you. To ease the tension you asked him after clearing your throat and looking away “What’s going on here? Is the T-Virus back?” you say while looking back at Leon to only notice that he was staring at you the whole time.
“No. It’s a new virus some guy who used to work for umbrella made. It’s something called Elpis. Similar to the T-Virus except the zombies seem to re-do things in life they used to do before becoming walking creatures.” he says looking around to make sure there wasn’t any danger. He needed to protect you after all- he means himself and you… totally..
“Oh.” you manage to get out. What else could you say at this moment? He was so close to you and- “Hey. Pay attention” you snap out of your thoughts to notice his back was towards you with his gun out. You slowly reach for your gun trying to look for anything, then you hear noises. Great was it a horde?
“Stay back. I’ll take care of this” he states without looking back at you. “But, I can help too.” stepping up to be beside him but he holds his hand out. “Stay back I said.” He says with a more serious tone.
Then they appeared. 4 different looking zombie infected creatures. They all looked rotten. Deteriorating. But in an instant several gunshots were fired. All 4 zombies were now dead within the blink of an eye. Finally relaxing just a bit and releasing your gun, this night will be hard you thought to yourself.
“Hunnigan, come through.” You heard Leon say, “Here, what’s the matter?” She said through his earpiece “Tell me why Y/N is here right now. Was she the person you told me was going to be assigned on this mission with me?” Asking Hunnigan with a stern tone, almost as if he was pissed. “Oh, you’ve encountered her. Yes she is.” stating through Leon’s earpiece. “K, Thanks.” He said and tensed up a bit. Were you even okay to do this assignment? You just got dumped and cheated on by your ex.. What if you breakdown.. you’re not ready for a mentally exhausting mission like this he told himself. He’s interrupted by a hand on his bicep. Turning around slowly and capturing your eyes onto him he relaxes just a bit knowing you’re still okay. “Leon… You good?” worry leaves your voice
“Yeah i’m fine..” turning fully around towards you he raises his right hand and places it on your cheek, heat starts to raise in your face. Burning hot sensation comes upon, warm but comforting you thought to yourself. He puts his left hand on your waist and to your suprise he pulls you in and kisses your forehead. What was going on? Was this real? Were you dreaming?-
“Come on. Let’s go find the ‘doctor’. Sure he hasn’t gotten far if he is infected too.” you didn’t notice that he pulled away already. watching him turn around and walking away a bit, he stops and looks back at you. Still shocked by the sudden kiss, his voice snaps you out of your haze. “Coming? Or you already infected?” finally smiling at you with a chuckle coming out
“Y-Yeah!! Wait- i’m coming” you say hastily following him behind.
A/N: SORRY I KNOW RHIS WAS A LONG ONE. ITS VERY RUSHED BECAUSE YOU GUYS DESERVED A PART THREE!! Please let me know again if there’s any parts where I can improve on! Love you guys! Stay safe lovelies and I hope you enjoy this fic!
Summary: Discovering a secret in a sanatorium deep in the woods upsets Leon in a way that you’ve never seen before. However, your shared love is stronger than his fears.
Word Count: 1k
Warning(s): MEGA ANGST, BRIEF NEGATIVE SELF TALK, MEGA FLUFF, reader being emotionally supportive, and just two old d.s.o. agents in love.
A/N: I would like to thank Taylor’s Version of ‘This Love’ inspiring this fic. Also with the fact that I could TOTALLY see Leon being sensitive about this. My first fic of 2026!
The ominous sound of thunder roars over the hills in the distance, allowing your favorite scent to fill Leon’s lungs. His tired greyish blue eyes hold a sharp gaze that follows you through the front door of the adjacent gas station. Emerging from the tiny corner store, he studies the way the plastic water bottles are nestled in your arm against the now rain speckled black leather jacket.
Ignoring the fresh layer of rain, the click of the gas pump distracts Leon, breaking his gaze. Returning the nozzle to the meter, a smirk fills his lips once he notices that you’re leaning against the passenger side door.
“You sure you don’t want me to drive the rest of the way?” You ask.
“Not a chance. I’m perfectly fine with it.” He replies, open the door for you.
Showing you into the passenger seat with a gentle kiss, he sighs into your mouth as you hum.
“Ever the gentleman.” You tease.
“I try.” He says back.
Flashing a rare smile, Leon walks back to the driver’s seat. Finding comfort in the heated seats, the warmth radiates through your body. A soft sigh leaves your mouth and you feel eternally grateful for your husband’s choice of a car, provided by the D.S.O., of course.
“Comfortable?” Leon asks.
Leaning back in his seat, he gazes up and down at your relaxing form.
“Very, thank you.” You reply.
Dialing for Hunnigan, Leon patiently waits for the line to go through despite the difference in time zones. Tapping his gloved hand against the rim of the steering wheel, mimicking the soft pitter-patter of the rain. Quietly reaching out for your arm, Leon gently rests his hand on your thigh and squeezes your leg.
Glancing towards Leon, you begin to open your mouth to say something, but you’re both interrupted by Hunnigan answering the call.
“Leon, Y/N! Oh thank God! I was so worried that something could’ve happened at the hotel.” She frantically speaks.
“Our situation at Wrenwood was not ideal. But we survived and that’s what matters. Now we know where Victor Gideon is – and where to find Grace.” Leon explains.
“Then you’d better get going, the Sanatorium is about a two hour drive away from your current location. And it looks like the weather conditions aren’t holding up.” Hunnigan replies.
Showing you and Leon the quickest way to the Sanatorium; through the old stretch of woods - the long way, you lean closer to your husband’s comms. Adjusting the screen so you can see, you silently watch as Hunnigan switches between tabs of content based on the information you’ve gathered.
“It’s alright, Hunnigan. We’ve got this. You know us, we’’l be fine.” You reassure her.
“It’s not you I’m worried about Y/N. It’s that dumbass you decided to marry.” She jests.
“Yeah well, we all love him.” You answer, giving Leon’s thigh a quick squeeze.
“We’ll reach out if anything happens. You won’t be left in the dark this time, Ingrid.” Leon adds, hoping to give her some kind of relief.
“Thank you, both of you. Now get going, Grace needs you!” She projects, hanging up the call entirely.
Turning off his comms, Leon sighs in the driver’s seat. Being pulled forward in the direction of the mission, he silently wishes that something could be different. But it’s not. This is the life the two of you chose. No matter how hard it may be, at least you remain strongly by his side.
However, your gentle touch brings him back to reality. Calming rubbing his scruffy chin with your palm, a sly smile emerges from his lips.
“You ready to go, cowboy?” You ask.
“Yeah, let’s go.” Leon replies, before swiftly leaving the gas station.
*****
The drive to the Sanatorium is long and boring. Sharing a quaint conversation with your husband as he speeds along the scenic route is oddly delightful, despite the circumstances. The rain and foggy atmosphere helps relax you even though the gruesome details of your next case linger in the back of your mind. You and Leon will get Grace out of this, no matter what happens.
Rounding the cul de sac of leading into the Sanatorium, the enormous, yet surprisingly functioning looking building sends a shiver up your spine.
“Wow, Gideon must be loaded if he can buy something like this.” You admire, with your eyes searching over every single inch of the exterior.
“Yeah. I don’t even want to think how many tricks he pulled just to own this place.” Leon interjects, clenching his jaw.
“You ready to get Grace?” You ask, already motioning to open your door.
Turning to you, Leon abruptly stops you.
“Wait, there's something I have to tell you first.” He announces, stopping you in your tracks.
Patiently nodding, you let Leon take the reins, letting him finally breathe for the first time in forty-eight hours.
“When we go in there, I want you on me like glue. I don’t want you anywhere near Gideon or any of his …people. Something kept popping up in all of the records regarding this place. Gideon is notorious for doing experiments on married couples. They volunteer for the shit he pulls in there. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if anything were to happen to you because of me.” Leon explains.
Shaking in the driver’s seat, you take either side of his tired face and look at him in his pale blue eyes.
“Nothing is going to happen to me. We’ve accomplished so much together, from the day I met you. We’ve survived worse. I’m with you until the end, or when the D.S.O. finally decides to give us a proper vacation, I can’t imagine having this life with anyone else." You declare.
Gently stroking Leon’s cheeks, he takes your left hand in his own and kisses the beautiful pair of silver bands that he gave you all those years ago after leaving Spain. Leaning your foreheads against one another, the two of you just listen to each other breathe together, mentally preparing for what lies behind the Sanatorium doors.
Massive Disclaimer: This fanfic will contain an age gap; the main character is 23 years old, and the canon character is 51. I think? Anyway, the fanfic will be mostly an age gap romance. There'll be other mature elements: sex, alcohol use, and maybe some violence towards other characters, but not the main characters. Regardless, this is also going to have a lot of angst and some gray areas. You are responsible for the content you consume! Minors do not interact.
Pairing: Sugar Daddy! RE9! Leon x Female OC (Ivy De Loughlin)
The Playlist ---> wicked game
Summary:
Ivy De Loughlin has had the worst luck in the year so far. Struggling to make ends meet, the colossal weight of debt on her shoulders from not only college but also after losing both her parents, forces her to work almost every hour of the day when she isn't on campus, and it never seems to be enough. Her roommate, Roslyn, decides to sign her up for a sugar baby site without her knowledge - as she's about to delete the account, a message from "bikelover77" pops up, and so she messages back, thinking it won't lead to much.
Leon S. Kennedy is pushing 50; he shouldn't rationally be talking to anyone in their twenties. A harmless pun at Leon, he's sent the link for the site, and on a whim, signs up for it - he's new to this, he hasn't had to take care of anyone for a while, maybe it'll be nice to have someone around that isn't either another agent or Hunnigan (no disrespect, of course), and when he sees Ivy's profile - hope blossoms in his chest and he decides to message her.
These arrangements are tricky, and he swears to just keep it a simple companionship, nothing more. But how long could they keep it up until one of them slips up?
I couldn't choose one villain/movie so I did all the classic horror monsters instead. I recommed looking at the picture on full screen. Reference used under the cut. Can you tell I'm a fan of spooky season?
Prompts by @bg3villain-halloweek
Universal horror classic monsters poster. Extra lineart bcuz I like it
