#Re Village fanfic

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Table of Contents: The Lightning that Jumps Between

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Be sure to read the first book, Winters and the Beast, before starting here!

Summary

After coming to terms with two things--one, that he's made of mold, and two, that life goes on--Ethan Winters must work with his new alliance to definitively end Mother Miranda's hundred years of terror.

The key to her undoing, or rather, the many keys to her undoing, are buried deep in the village's remains. Some secrets will require Ethan to do the one thing he never thought he was capable of: bringing back the Lords, and convincing them to work with him.

Meanwhile, Karl works to become more than just "The Fourth Lord", while subconsciously knowing that for his entire life, all the things that seemed too good to be true....go away after awhile.

CHAPTER LIST BELOW THE CUT

Prologue: One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty One

Twenty Two

Twenty Three

Twenty Four

Twenty Five

Twenty Six

Twenty Seven

Twenty Eight

Twenty Nine

Thirty

Thirty One

Thirty Two

Thirty Three

Thirty Four

Thirty Five

Thirty Six

Thirty Seven

Thirty Eight

Thirty Nine

Forty

Forty One

Forty Two

Forty Three

Forty Four

Forty Five

Forty Six

Forty Seven

Forty Eight

Forty Nine

[nekoprankster218]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ethan Winters/Mia Winters, Chris Redfield & Mia Winters Characters: Mia Winters, Rosemary Winters (Resident Evil), Ethan Winters, Chris Redfield, Karl Heisenberg Additional Tags: Not Beta Read, One Shot, Mafia AU, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mentioned Claire Redfield, minor character at the end can be read as Leon Kennedy, anyone else is free to tho, note: the ending is left open and I have no plans to continue the AU so fair warning, Unresolved Series: Part 25 of Popular Fanfiction Tropes the Series (based on the ColeyDoesThings videos), Part 47 of Works by "Prank" (Pseud Series) Summary:

When Mia discovers the late night intruder is her own husband, the night escalates to a point she can't trust anyone in the whole city... save for one man.

[thefanficmonster]

Resident Evil Masterlist

* - Fluff

⨀ - Angst

Full-length Fics:

The Queen and her Guardian (Mia Winters x Ethan Winters) *

Just a Legend (Mia Winters x Ethan Winters) ⨀*

Snowman (Mia Winters x Ethan Winters) *

Nothing to worry about (Ethan Winters & Reader) ⨀*

Weakness (Karl Heisenberg & Child!Reader) ⨀*

Dark Magic (Mia Winters x Ethan Winters) *

Bloody Jealousy (Alcina Dimitrescu x Reader) *

Enough Said (Rose Winters & OC) *

Beyond Death (Alcina Dimitrescu x Reader) ⨀

Vulnerability (Karl Heisenberg x Reader) ⨀*

There you are (Karl Heisenberg x Reader) *⨀

Finally, you're back (Karl Heisenberg x Reader) ⨀*

Mission (Ethan Winters & OC) *

Sounds Promising (Karl Heisenberg x Reader) ⨀*

Stargazing (Mia Winters x Ethan Winters) *

Beneath the surface (Chris Redfield x OC) ⨀*

Partner (Ethan Winters x Reader) ⨀*

Deal (Jill Valentine x OC) *

Not a Weapon (Karl Heisenberg x Reader) ⨀*

Best thing (he lost) (Karl Heisenberg x Reader) ⨀

Worthy (Chris Redfield x OC) *

What happens in the gym...(Chris Redfield x OC) ⨀*

Vendetta (Karl Heisenberg x Reader) *

Regretting (Chris Redfield x OC) *

Innocent Life (Ethan Winters & Child!Reader) ⨀

Soldier First (Chris Redfield x Reader) ⨀

Heroism (Ethan Winters & Reader) ⨀

No Mistake (Karl Heisenberg x Reader) *

New Life (Mia Winters x Ethan Winters) *

Fated (Karl Heisenberg x Reader) *

Headcanons:

Karl Heisenberg x reader who suffers from nightmares ⨀*

Karl Heisenberg x multilingual reader *

Karl's love language - annoyance *

Protective Karl Heisenberg ⨀*

Touch starved Karl Heisenberg *

Opposites attract (Karl Heisenberg x reader) *

Karl x Child-free reader *

Karl x *ahem* well-endowed reader *

Tipsy Romance (Karl Heisenberg x reader) *

Karl with an emotionless s/o *

Karl Heisenberg romantic headcanons *

For Margaret ⨀

Karl x injured s/o ⨀*

Karl x shy s/o *

Karl has a nightmare ⨀

Comforting Karl Heisenberg ⨀

Seeing his mutation for the first time ⨀*

Finding out the truth about Heisenberg ⨀*

Being Karl's adopted child *⨀

Insecurities (Karl x reader) ⨀*

The loss of a loved one (Karl x reader) ⨀

Ethan Winters x pregnant reader ⨀

Arguing with Heisenberg ⨀

Jealous Heisenberg ⨀*

Heisenberg with an introverted s/o *

The love story of life and death (Mia Winters x Ethan Winters) ⨀*

The Lords as parents *

Mythical (Mia Winters x Ethan Winters) ⨀*

Life Hardships (Heisenberg x reader) ⨀*

Darkness (Mia Winters x Ethan Winters) ⨀*

Heisenberg's Family ⨀*

Heisenberg with a pregnant s/o *

Wine Woes (Heisenberg x reader) *

Single dad Heisenberg *

Mithanberg Headcanons *

Chris Redfield x injured s/o ⨀*

Heisenberg comforting his s/o ⨀*

Heisenberg with a jumpy s/o *

Heisenberg with a smoker s/o *

Single dad Heisenberg with a newborn *

Chris Redfield with plus-size s/o *

Heisenberg x non-binary reader *

Lady D with an s/o that is close with her daughters *

Enemies to lovers with Heisenberg *

Fluffy headcanons for Donna *

Ethan Winters x injured s/o ⨀

[soldateins]

Healing Touch

Lady Alcina Dimitrescu x Reader Oneshot (Hurt/Comfort)

Words: 1,355

Warnings: Injuries, blood, drinking blood (Alcina does), not too crazy just RE Village shenanigans

Notes: This fanfic is a request for the lovely @et-is-an-alien - I hope you love it!! It’s my first ever time writing for Lady D and for a request so I’m super nervous! But this was so fun :D (I'm also still learning about formatting my writing on tumblr so lmk any tips bc it's a bit janky!!)

Summary: You get attacked by that imbecile Heisenberg's lycans while out in the village. You make your way back to Castle Dimitrescu, desperately seeking healing from your sweet Lady.

Searing pain stung throughout different points of your body as you ran across the bridge and through the vineyard towards the castle entrance. Your panicked breaths melted into the whistling cold wind and the distant barks of lycans at your back. Slamming your hands and body against the large door, you pushed it open with the last of your strength and entered the hall of the castle. You pulled the door shut, the icy air whipping your hair around your face and it sticking to the blood spread over your features.

             With a desperate huff, you hauled your weakening body through the hallways and into the main hall. You fell onto the last step of the staircase with a cry and finally inspected the damage the lycans had done. Bites of all depths were scattered over your person, the most severe being at the join of your neck and shoulder. Your ribcage had also caught the tail end of the swings of a machete a few times, leaving behind a collection of claw-like cuts and making it hard to breathe deeply.

             You gasped and swallowed as you ripped up some of your shirt and pressed it into your ribcage, “Ah, fuck- fucking dogs. Fucking Heisenberg.” Your words echoed through the main hall and a faint buzzing floated through from the hallway. A cloud of flies flew around your head and over your body before transforming into Daniela at your side. She immediately scanned your injuries and hissed.

“Mother! Mother, come at once!” Daniela shouted, kneeling next to you and taking over pressing into your wounds.

             “Daniela? What is it, daughter?” Alcina’s voice rang from the top landing as her heavy steps made their way towards the staircase.

             “It’s Y/n, come quickly! Something has happened!”

You groaned and lolled your head back in agony as Daniela dipped her fingers into your neck wound and licked the blood from her hand, “Lycans,” she spat. Alcina’s steps grew quicker, and you heard her shriek as your eyes grew fuzzy, “By Mother’s Grace!”

“Alcina, my heart,” You exhaled, feebly grabbing at her ankle as she came around to your front. “Hush, dear, save your energy – Daniela,” she ushered her daughter away from you and you felt her arms wrap around your body, “Bring alcohol, gauze, all of it.” Alcina lifted you to her chest, “Come, my darling, I shall sort you.” She began to march towards the bed chamber. You softly caressed her necklace as she walked, rolling the pearls between your fingers lazily, “Mm, my love,” you hummed, jolting slightly and letting out a cry of pain when Alcina pushed the door to the bedchamber open with one of her knees.

She placed you on the large bed, and you bounced into the mattress with a whine.

“I am sorry, my dear, but time is of the essence – Daniela!” Alcina roared toward the open door and Daniela’s voice echoed through the halls, “Yes, mother!” Daniela ran through the doorway, bundles and bottles piled up and pressed to her chest. “Thank you, my daughter. Now, leave us.” Alcina ordered softly and Daniela nodded,

“Yes, mother.” And left the room, shutting the door behind her.

You watched Alcina pull at your clothes and her face contorted between anger and fear as she pried soaked pieces of clothing from your wounds, “Daniela said this is the work of lycans?” Her golden eyes caught yours for a moment before she conjured her claws and carefully cut your trousers and shirt from your body piece by piece, leaving you mostly bare. You nodded, “Yes, Heisenberg’s lot. They’re still—” You took in a long, strangled breath as Alcina wiped an alcohol-soaked cloth across the cuts on your ribcage, “wreaking havoc in the village, killing- killing and eating villagers and livestock. Ah! Alcina—” You groaned and writhed.

 “You need to stay still, my darling,” she held you with one hand and cleaned your wounds with the other, “That bastard, Heisenberg. I will strip him of his skin and feed him to his own dogs.” She snarled. After dressing your ribcage and cleaning the sporadic surface-level bites around your limbs, Alcina leaned in closely to inspect the group of bites between your shoulder and neck, “Nasty work, indeed.” Her nose scrunched up in distaste for the lycans, “Just like their father.”

“Alcina,” You rolled your eyes and gripped her thigh, “for the love of—”

“Yes, yes, I’ll hush.”

She dragged two of her fingers through the wounds, eliciting a pained mewl from your throat, and brought them to her mouth to lick, “Turning stale and unsurprisingly filthy,” she smacked her lips, examining the flavour, “I need to remove the dirty blood. Up,” She brought her hands to your sides and sat you up, leaning you forward against her chest and shoulder. You grunted as her warm mouth enveloped a section of the bites, “Fuck, fuck.” You hissed, her warm saliva mixing into your blood and stinging. Her teeth burrowed into your muscle slightly and she began suckling at your wounds. Pained huffs and gasps escaped you, and you grabbed handfuls of her dress at her waist as the dull and familiar ache of her feeding streamed through your shoulder and down your arm.

After a few seconds, Alcina broke away from your neck with puffed cheeks full of blood, and she leaned away towards the bedside table. You rested your head into the crook of her neck, listening to the dragging of a metal bowl and her spitting multiple times into it before putting the bowl back down and turning back to you.

“How absolutely putrid, very unlike your usual delicious bouquet.” She purred and you let out a drowsy chuckle. Alcina gently pushed your head back and returned her mouth to your throat. A soft moan crept through you and you felt your breaths shortening as she cradled you in her arms. Alcina chuckled, the sound vibrating against your muscles before she pulled away and spat into the bowl again. She faced you, golden eyes shining in the dim light of the hearth and licking her lips, “You’re still feeling well enough for pleasure, it seems.” Her mouth, wet with your blood, curved into a smirk.

“Always well enough for pleasure with you, my heart,” your voice turned to a whisper as the edges of your vision became darker and your grip on her waist weakened. 

“Sadly, it will have to wait - your blood is clean but you are in dire need of rest.” She wrapped your numbing shoulder and neck in bandages before cupping your face with one hand and holding your waist with the other, sighing quietly with relief. A sleepy smile danced along your lips as you brought your hand to her cheek and stroked over her lips with your thumb,

“Having my own personal nurse is nice, especially one so delicious,” you said hoarsely and Alcina raised her eyebrows with a chortle, 

“Don’t make it a habit, dear,” she brought you closer, tapping her nose against yours, “Although, you would make an exquisite cabernet.” Alcina pressed her lips to yours with a hum. You laughed into the kiss, a sting of pain surging through your chest as you breathed in deeply, turning the laugh into a shuddering moan and briefly darkening your vision. Alcina pulled back, looking into your eyes, “My love?” She whispered.

“Ah–” You gasped, “It’s my ribs, it’s okay, ah, I’m okay,” You winced as she gently laid you back in the bed and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. Alcina rose from the bed and wiped her mouth with a cloth, throwing it into the blood-filled bowl on the bedside table before making her way around the bed. She laid back on the plush pillows and gently pulled you into her arms, resting your head against her chest.

“Sleep, my dear. And when you wake I will have Bela bring Heisenberg’s head on a platter.” Her long fingers stroked your side, avoiding your injuries as they went.

“Mhm,” You hummed in agreement, dropping into a sweet slumber to the rhythms of Alcina’s body below you.

[naturesapphic]

Mommy alcina dealing with a clingy little reader because the reader had a really bad dream about alcina leaving them

Headcannon: you have a bad nightmare about alcina leaving you and you become clingy to her

Mommy!lady dimitrescu x fem!little!reader

Warnings: bad dreams, soft!alcina

- Last night you had a awful dream where alcina said she didn’t love nor want you anymore and left you.

- When you woke up you were devastated.

- What made things worse was alcina was out of town for a couple of days and when she came back that following morning. You were clinging to her like a leech on flesh.

- Alcina was worried and she got even more worried when this continued on day after day.

- Alcina didn’t want to upset you further by asking you to talk about it but she knew if she didn’t that this would eat you alive.

- When she asked what was the matter and why her little baby was so clingy to her. The dams fell

- You started sobbing and clinging onto her even more if that was even possible

- She felt so bad for asking. She doesn’t like seeing you cry

- After a few moments of her letting you cry it out and calm down, you started telling her about your horrid dream

- When you were done telling her and how it affected you. Her heart broke

- She reassured you that it was only a dream and something like that would never ever happen

- Alcina picked you up in her arms and carried you to the bedroom

- She then laid you in the bed and went in beside you and put you on top of her so that your head was on her plush chest

- And she said that if you ever have bad dreams like that again to always come to mommy because she will always be there to help you

A/n: I apologize this is so short but I hope the anon and the rest of y’all enjoy! Requests are still open for all of my characters including of course Rhea ripley/Demi Bennett. I have my own buy me a coffee page! You can give me a dollar and it will help. I also have some different commission types I will do so here's my page to look into it :) https://www.buymeacoffee.com/naturesapphic Requests are open for yeehaw!wanda, country!wanda, and any other southern variants of Wanda or Natasha! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y'all!

[duvernost]

just a little nibble….. @donnasmeatballs

[sutekinyce]

Old Addictions Die Hard, Chapter 39.

I finally finished all the parts I've been making in the comic for a while, womp womp!! Let's all cry because we love some angsty 🥲💔❤️‍🩹

Please do read Old Addictions Die Hard fic by @logjammer9000 I truly and highly recommend!! Literally y'all gonna bawl your eyes out lol! I'm so happy in making this and finished it by heart and soul.

Hope y'all like it! 🥹🫶

[vermont-writes-fanfic]

Her Special Maid

Prologue Chapter~

Request:No

Chapter: Prologue

Warning: An unnecessarily indepth description of how to make bread the medieval way, not much else

Characters:Alcina Dimitrescu

A/N:I plan on making this into a series, I’m not to sure how it will go but fuck it, I have it taking place about a full year before anything with Ethan even begins to enter the question though so that’s why there will be little to no mention of him

A/N 2: This is a prologue so bare with it please!

Directory: Prologue (you are here), Chapter 1

You’re life in the village is by no means a hard one, Mother Miranda had blessed the village well and you and your family are devout to her and the four lords she appointed to help sustain the village. As a child, you had often wondered about the large castle that stood strong and resolute beyond the village, even more so about those who lived in it. You had read the tales of princesses and royalty living in buildings like this, however no one would answer you when you asked about it, they would just steer you away from it with weary looks cast towards the grandiose building.

As you grew older, you grew bolder and wandered closer to it, as if testing the castle to tell what secrets it held that kept everyone so on edge. Any time you could, you would sneak away from your duties in the house to venture further and further out, and that was when you met your first Lycan up close and personal. You had fled home unharmed but severely afraid. After that, the castle interested you much less.

It wasn’t until you fell ill with an affliction that no doctor could cure, that you first got a glimpse of what truly took home in the castle. You had been laying in bed running a fever and in and out of a stupor, when the sound of a carriage could be heard passing by. Your mother roused you from bed and forced you to stand beside your father as two carriages passed by. The windows to the carriage were heavily curtained but a pale white hand had reached out from behind them and you swore you saw golden eyes staring right back at you, but your father pressed your head down nearly taking your sick body to the ground.

After this, your curiosity had once again been piqued by the strange castle. If only to keep you from going closer to the castle, your mother told you it was where one of the four lords of the village lived, and that she had a penchant for taking young girls. You assumed this was true for the lost part, the last bit seeming more like something you tell to a child instead of a teen, however you were satisfied with they answer gave. As the years flew and your mother grew weak, you had to focus on taking over the small bakery your family ran. You learned the tricks of the trade out of a large recipe book that had been passed down from generation to generation filled and crammed with different kind of recipes, the alterations made, the exact rations, and everything else anyone aspiring to take of the business would need to know.

One morning,while you are trudging through the snow, you find a small box with a simple lock keeping it closed. Not wanting the snow to damage it or someone else to take it, also being curious yourself as to what is in it, you take it.You continue on your way back to the bakery and set it in your room in a raggedy but clean towel to dry so the wood doesn’t become soggy and damage the inner contents of the box. Now that you’ve set it down it’s clear to you that this is no ordinary jewllery box or otherwise. It’s ornatley decoratated and has a crest you’ve never seen before. Silver pegs at the bottom in each corner of the base stand the box up and pop against the deep dark slightly red of the wood. The wood it;s self is nicely glossed and clearly well cared for, however the dust in places that had not been disturbed by the snow and cloth shows that it’s old. You take a small handkerchief and wipe away the dust before inspecting it further.Silver vines with leaves trail up the lock which is split in two pieces to allow the box to open.Rumaging through a couple of drawers you finally find a old bobby pin your mother used to pin up your hair when you were a child, upon finding you slide it in and jiggle it around finding the right spot until you hear the click. As you open it, the gleam of the candle light reflecting off of what must be a pure silver locket slightly blinds you. It’s heavy in your hand and the locket it’s self is even heavier than the chain. Curiosity gets the better of you once more, and you snap the locket open. Inside is a worn picture of a beautiful woman with perfectly curled black hair, dark lipstick, and a gorgeous white dress, beneath and on either side of her are younger ladies who must be the womans daughters. None of them aside for the girl with the lightly brighter hair had a smile on her face, even then it was barely there. Feeling guilty for taking something with a clear sentimental value, you shut it and replace it in the box as it was, before shutting the box which automatically locks with a click.

You set it in a special drawer of your dresser, and head out tying up your hair to begin baking for the day, after all you were already behind on the bread that needed to be baked and if you didn’t have enough for the day you’de have to make more mid-way through which is no small feat. The day is relatively uneventful as you go about your daily routine, you take the flower you had bought from Mr.Bruner the week before and add water and bear to it along with a little yeast and begin to knead it.After thirty minutes you let it set working on several more large batches before shaping it into loaves of bread. You set out a stone slab over the fire and set several loaves down waiting for them to cook. This process is repeated from the point the sun is peeking up from the horizon, to the time it is placed a quarter of the way in the sky. The smell of fresh if slightly stale bread floods the house as well as the noses of passersby in the village. It isn’t as if you have much competition in such a small village, your family is the only bakery in it after all. With the bread done and baked, your younger brother takes to selling and keeping an eye on the front as you head back into your room to stare at the box. What if you were accused of stealing it from someone in the village? Who do you know would even have money enough to have something like this made? A thought passes your mind and you, for a moment, contemplate it before making the decision to see the merchant everyone had been to, aside from yourself. Running a bakery with a sick mother is stressful enough as it is so you never had time for anything not already planned out.

You have a bit of free time now, and he was on a path you liked to walk when you weren’t so weary of the Castle and haven't had the time to walk until now. You slide on your thicker boots and a cloak before leaving the back door and walking down the dirt path along the tree line. Here, most of the people in the village couldn’t see behind the line of houses and question where you are going. It was better this way, no one in the village has anything even remotely close to this value and the picture would give away that it doesn’t belong to you. A caravan comes into view near the front of the castles at the corner where the two dirt roads meet. As you stop in front of it, the doors swing open and a large man kicks his bare feet out pushing himself into a sitting position.

“Well hello there! I trust you are the baker's daughter, what brings you so close to the castle? Is it me, perchance?” The Duke greets you, though you are easily distracted by the trinkets on either door he had opened as the clink.

“Miss?” He calls out to you again an amused smile on his face as you look at his wares with blatant curiosity and wonder. Hearing this, you snap your eyes up at him and shake yourself out for the distracted daze you were in.

“My apologies, yes I’m here for you. I found this box,” you pause and take the box from its cloth confines, “have you seen anything like it?”

Immediately his interest is piqued and he scoots forward leaning down to gently take it from your hands and inspect it further. His eyes widen and his lips curl into a grin as he sets it back down.

“Oh no, I’ve never seen something like this…but I do know who it belongs to,” When he says this your eyes lift back to him from the box where they once were. He leans back into his seat before rocking forward to peek around the doors of his home, an arm pointing to the castle before the two of you.

“The Lady Dimitrescu, that box most certainly belongs to her.I’ve only seen products from her castle use such ornate silver designs. And the crest, is hers.”

Hearing this, you turn to look at th castle, what you thought was fantastical and large from afar, is imposing and intimidating now as it looms over you. This would be a place wear one of Mother Miranda’s appointed lords would stay. Could you maybe leave it at the doorstep, or give it to him and have it returned to her that way? The thought of entering the large castle had once entertained and excited you but now it fills you with dread. What if she thought you stole it? Your mother had told you that young ladies went missing to the castle many times , and that your best friend was suspected to have been taken there as well.

“Do you plan to give it to her yourself?” The Duke questions, a brow raised, that amused smile never quite leaving his face as he watches you.

“Y-yes, it’s only right it’s returned to her…” Even as you say it, your legs seem to dread the thought of moving closer. The Lord were made to protect the village, surely one wouldn’t harm you…right?

You shake your fear from you, your father had always told you that being a coward even as a woman would lead you nowhere in life. You turn to the Duke and thank him for his help, before walking on shaking legs towards the door of the castle. Underneath the terror and anxiety, your beating heart quickens for another reason, your strides quicken and you bite you lip to hold back the excited smile that twitches at your lips. Even through the fear, you might be able to enter a castle. A real life castle, and one that you had always hoped to enter. Mother had always warned that your childish curiosities would get you hurt, and you pray to Miranda that she is wrong. In no time at all, your eager legs have carried you through the snow to the door of the castle, and you give a timid if excited knock. After a few moments, your apprehension grips you, and you think to leave it at the door. Just as you turn around, the massive doors open and the warmth of the inside beckons you. Against your better judgment, you walk through the large doors which quickly shut behind you.

End note: Let me know what you all think it would be really appreciated

Total Word Count: 1959 words

[reobsessed]

Sickness In His Care

Pairing: Reader X Karl Heisenberg. Content Warning: 18+, Mentions of sex but no actual sex in the story itself, Reader X Karl Heisenberg fic, slight humour. Can't think of any other warnings but please let me know in the comments if I missed anything. Summary: You'd been seeing Karl Heisenberg for a while now and had since started staying in the factory. However, one day you come down with a fever. Expecting him not to care you do your best to avoid him but you find yourself at a loss for words when he tries to take care of you. This is just a short one, inspired by my current illness. Wanted to write about a sick reader being taken care of by Karl =p Hope you enjoy! Might add more one-shots to this series later. Thanks again to Suri for editting and reads!

Your body was racked by coughs and splutters, occasionally drowned out by the sound of heavy machines whirring. You did your best to fall asleep but the oppressive heat of both your fever and the humid factory air wouldn’t allow for that. How Heisenberg worked in this, day in, day out boggled your mind. You had a lot of questions concerning that man.

With no such luck in drifting off, you flung your legs over the side of the makeshift bed and wrapped a blanket around yourself, for modesty’s sake. You made your way to the main elevator and adjusted your underwear while you walked.

Despite their inability to see, you felt intimidated beneath the many dead eyes of the factory. They’d long since had the life and humanity extinguished from them, but much like a porcelain doll, their eyes followed you across the hall.

Unfortunately you weren’t wearing any shoes either. They’d been discarded halfway across a room, (you couldn’t remember which) when he’d accosted you from behind several nights before. He did that sometimes, he’d enter a room irritated, ranting and raving about his ‘life’s work’, Mother Miranda or some other insignificant event. Then as he would throw his coat to the floor he’d come up behind and bury his face in the crook of your neck. It was his silent plea for attention, the only release in his life that didn’t coincide with destructive violence.

Things would get rough sometimes. Tumbling around with shrapnel and a dirty man who never left his basement certainly had its risks; but at the end of it all, nothing ever went outside of your comfort zone. Cruel and ruthless Lord Heisenberg was capable of some decency, if only in that regard.

Memories of the prior night filled you with excitement. You brought your hand to the swollen cluster of love bites mapped across your chest and neck. You’d returned the favour, and left a colourful array dotted across his neck, ensuring they were in full view of any who encountered him. You hoped to God he got called into a family meeting sometime soon. With an impish giggle you clicked the button on the elevator and ascended to the top floor. You hoped he was anywhere but his office, but unfortunately your luck had run out around the same time you’d met him.

As soon as you opened the door you were greeted by his side profile, head in hands, slumped over a diagram on the table. Probably sulking again.

“The fuck are you doing in here? I thought I told you not to bother me while I’m working.” He let out a puff of cigar smoke. Didn’t even have the decency to look at you. Dick.

As per your usual pettiness you ignored him and made a beeline for the door at the back of the room. Suddenly you toppled backwards as a thin chain of metal wrapped itself around your wrist, not intended to hurt you but to stop you from going any further. However, he’d miscalculated and hadn’t noticed your sickly state until after you’d begun to tumble backwards. As you fell to the ground, he steadied you with more offcuts of metal.

“The hell is wrong with you?” he raised his voice, a combination of tiredness and confusion. 

Metal clattered to the floor as he stood up. With a rough grip, he pulled you upright and turned you to face him. He studied you intently, glasses slipping down past his nose. You stared into his eyes, watching as anger dissipated into uncharacteristic worry.

Heisenberg was never good at concealing his emotions, especially not his anger and now this too, apparently.

“I just wanted some fresh air,” you croaked.

Cigar smoke choked your already irritated throat and you began another coughing fit, you tried your best to turn away but his burly arms held you in place. You were shocked that he didn’t seem to mind when you spluttered all over his stained work shirt but then again, you’d covered him in worse things.

“Forgot humans get sick, haven’t been sick in over forty years.”

“Certainly starting to get sick of you.” 

You couldn’t see his eyes behind the blackened glasses, but you knew he was rolling them.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” He grabbed your arm and shook it. “What do you do when one of these gets sick?”

“Well, I was hoping to avoid you turning me into one of your new toys, but I guess that’s up in the air now,” you sniffed, swallowing a large glob of phlegm stuck at the back of your throat.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” he sneered at you, now holding you away from him at arm’s length.

“I can’t help it,” you spat, attempting to pull yourself free. “And besides, have you smelt yourself recently?”

“Wait a minute, I have something for this!” His grip slipped from your wrist and fell into your hand. You let out a nasalled grunt as he dragged you across the room to his desk. After rummaging around with one hand he pulled out a dusted bottle from the bottom drawer. “This should do the trick.”

Your nose wrinkled when you looked at the awaiting bottle. It was covered in a thick layer of grime and much of the writing had worn off the label a long time ago, based on the few remaining letters you assumed this used to be some kind of ‘medicine’. You turned it over to see the date ‘1923’ printed along the bottom.

“Yep. I’ll be better in no time with this.” You swivelled the bottle, watching as black ooze splashed against the sides. He had a triumphant grin on his face and you couldn’t bring yourself to ridicule him further. “Right, well I’m going outside.”

“Dressed like that?”

“What are you, my dad?”

He pulled the blanket around your shoulders and touched a gloved hand to your forehead.

“You’re cold.”

Stifling yet another cough, you laughed softly. 

“How can you tell? You’re wearing gloves, you buffoon.”

He wrapped you in an embrace, only when held in the stillness of his arms did you realise that you’d been shivering this entire time. Had your fever turned to chills? With his arms still around you he pulled you over to his chair and sat you in his lap, presumably so he could keep working.

“So… you not gonna turn me into a Soldat after all?” you laughed nervously.

He brought the cigar to his lips. “Bad materials.”

You slapped his chest playfully and turned to nestle yourself in his arms. Usually after sex you’d push him away, the man radiated far too much heat in the already sweltering factory, but you were currently thankful for the warmth. It must have been awkward trying to work around the mass of your body, but he didn’t complain. As the two of you sat together you came to the realisation that he wasn’t doing any work at all, and that in reality, all he wanted to do was sit with you in his arms while you recovered.

Fuck.

Somewhere along the way the two of you had lost yourselves. What was supposed to have been a one-night stand had spiralled into weekly hookups, and from there it had turned into shared space and something akin to actual concern for one another. You were filled with a sense of dread, but you pushed it down in favour of sinking further into his chest. Before you drifted off, you could have sworn you felt the brush of his lips against your hair. 

A bitter sweetness churned your stomach. You felt a unique longing, beyond anything you’d ever felt for anyone else. Sex and desire had become secondary in favour of a new want; if only you had more time to spend in comfortable silence together.

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

Anyone here like resident evil??

Specifically her

Was thinking of making a fanfic of being bred by her. You cross the castle grounds? Fine fine...punishment is by breeding😈 but is it really a punishment 🤔

[thewritersaddictions]

Request- (RE8) Karl Heisenberg: Needy Little Girl

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Summary: Hiding your crush on your English teacher seems to fail when he makes you stay after class.

Warnings: Smut, Consensual, needy behavior, sluty behavior, BJs, PinV, a little cursing. Fluffy smut, fluff.

A/N: This is for anon; I know you sent this request a while ago. I promise it was worth the wait. Thank you for the request; remember, the inbox is always open!

WC: 1.9k

Requests Master List // Resident Evil Master List // House Heisenberg Master List

You wish you could start the day the way you ended it. The college class fills quickly, but you’re always early. You’re always waiting for him to come stalking through the doorway, smelling cigar smoke and burnt wood. 

Your professor is a massive hunk of man. Large arms that make the white collared shirts he wears bulge and give way with every movement he makes. Long legs that are framed in jeans, hugging his ass and showing off everything else in the process. 

That booming voice has you squeezing your thighs together, but the reality is you leave that class every single day with a ruined pair of panties, and when you get back to your dorm, there are only thoughts of him when you slip your hand down the front of your tight jeans. 

You should focus on the lecture, but you can’t get your mind or your eyes to focus on the computer screen before you. All you see is your professor pacing back and forth in front of the chalkboard. The loud booming voice that soothes you into a sweet lul mutters about something to do with your new essay project. “Please remember that we may make fun of Shakespeare and his many stories, but they all have a great deal of meaning and foreshadowing. I want you to write something that…” His words stop momentarily, and his eyes gaze over the lecture hall. Your ankles are crossed, and you sit a little higher when his graze hits you. Feeling hot all over, you don’t back down, “Write something that can grasp the reader’s attention in just that way. Write the trauma that is the indecision.” He finally finishes, drops his gaze from me, and returns his attention to the chalkboard. 

You wonder momentarily if anyone else feels the heat and tension you always feel when he’s looking at you. Eventually, you have to return your attention to your blank Google Doc. The bright screen hurts your eyes, and nothing comes into your brain except explicit thoughts of your professor—your much older, hotter professor. 

An hour later, when the class has come to an end, every single other person has picked their shit up and packed it away into their bags. You’re stuck writing because you eventually did get the words to form in your head. A cough draws you from your thoughts and the screen before you. When you look up, he’s standing there staring at you. 

“Miss, L/n? Class is over.” He says. You nod and start to pack your things. Closing your laptop, but yet again, you’re met with his eyes staring into you. Making your skin burn, “Miss, L/n, I need to talk with you.” Your professor says, even though you’re so close to the damn door you have to turn around and go right back to the man that makes your legs wobble, and your heart beat faster. “Yes Professor Heisenberg.” You say as you hold the remaining books tightly against your chest. “I need to talk to you about something private, and this lecture hall needs to be used in the next ten minutes, so follow me to my private office so we can talk there.” You nod, and wait for your professor to grab his own bag and laptop. You follow next to him, the sound of sneakers squeaks, and little kittens heels fill the air in the hallway. Walking with him has your cheeks warm, and knowing that you’re going to be in his private office. 

Alone. 

Alone with a hot, older professor that has you ruining panties, and squeezing your thighs so tightly that you hope the dull ache goes away. Your professor stops making you bump into him. If your fantasy didn’t already have you thinking he was a strong, beefy man then bumping into him surely made all your fantasy come true. The key jingles against the lock letting you in first. You sit down, and wait until you see Professor Heisenberg move around the desk and sit in the chair on the other side. 

The air is thick and unspoken tension, so you’re the one to break it. “Um… sir, why did we need to talk?” You ask your books now resting on your lap, your legs crossed, and you back pressed up against the back of the chair. “I wanted to talk to you about… um” his words die in his throat and for the first time your professor seems completely amiss. A loss for words is something you’ve never seen on the man before. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask worry etching into your soft features. “No you haven’t. God no, I just.. you..” He’s a mumbling mess in front of you. “Professor, maybe I should come back some other time.” That’s what you say, not that that is what you’re thinking. 

Being in his lecture hall is enough, watching him pace is enough, but now you’re here in his private office. The word private keeps blinking in your mind, his private office that smells more of cigars and burnt coffee. Where his degree hangs on the wall and the papers scatter the hardwood top of his desk. He rolls his lips together, and then looks towards you. 

There’s something behind those eyes. Like a cat got his tongue, then all the sudden the words fall from his very kissable mouth. “You Y/n are an absolute distraction for me.” Your brows shot up with a little bit of hurt mixed in, “Oh no not like that darlin’ I’m saying that having you in my class makes everything ten times harder to focus on, because all I can see out of the corner of my eye is you. Clenching those thighs together as you try to focus on your screen, but I catch you staring at me all the time. Those beautiful eyes lost in la-la land. What are you thinking about huh?” Your shoulders drop, and embarrassment courses through your body. You’ve been caught, but it seems that your day dreams, and fantasies were not one sided. You place your bag on the floor, and let your books fall as you get up from across the desk. “I’m thinking of you Professor Heisenberg. About what these large hands do to my body. How your touch would feel. I think about you all the damn time. I’m so needy for you.” You mutter the last part. Holding his hands feeling the weight of them in your own much smaller ones. 

You can feel the ruined panites, soaking through your jeans. Heisenberg's eyes glaze over, and something shifts in the room, from tension to desire. He’s quick to meet you halfway around the desk. He stands so much taller than you, then the way he man-handles you to sit on the side of the desk has you wish you could strip off all your pieces of clothing right then and there. 

“”I’m so fucked…” He whispers before taking your lips with his. There’s a fight, but you both know that you’ll be giving yourself over to your professor in a matter of minutes. Your arms wrap around his wide shoulders balancing on your tiptoes to deepen the kiss further. He seems to notice, and takes a second of your precious time together and picks you up plopping you onto the desk. In the same motion his hands are digging into your jeans and yours are trying to get his belt undone. “By the way, buttercup call me Karl, not professor or heisenberg. I wanna hear you moan my name when you cum. His words make you fumble with his belt, but he seems to be able to do two things at once because your jeans are already unbuttoned and his hand is reaching into cup your pussy. 

“Fuckin’ hell wet are the damn river. Is this what you go through every day, hmm such a poor baby.” He teases, but that's all the teasing he does. He’s far to desperate for forplay and your thankful because the next set of words that were gonna come out of your mouth were gonna be ‘if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might explode.’ Karl helps you the rest of the way with your shirt, bra and then he helps himself to ripping himself out of the slacks, and his button up. 

Leaning back you hit a few objects on the way down. “Um… Karl can we move some of this stuff?” You ask your voice shy and timid. “Of course.” With one big sweep of his arm the objects fly to the floor, the name plague landing with a thund, and the stapler clicking to the floor. “Thank you.” He hums, and returns his attention to your body. 

Nipples hard waiting to be played with. Pussy soaked and yearning to be touched, he kisses you first. You can feel the weight of his cockd sitting against your thigh, and when you look down you aren’t surprised to get the feeling that it might not fit. Karl can sense your unease. “Don’t worry buttercup, we’ll make it fit won’t we.” He says as he taps the tip of his cock to your sensitive clit. All your worry fades away as your body heats up like flame in an oven. It’s not until the tip of his cock notches at your entrance do you look back up at him. There’s a devilish smirk written all over his face, and you can’t help but drag him down to meet your lips, wrapping your legs around his hips, and pulling him fully in. 

There’s no waiting, no making sure he fits, or going easy. The pain only fuels the urge for him to almost pull all the way out and push right back in. The lamp that didn’t land on the floor from the desk shakes, and your moans start to fill the small office. He doesn’t even put a hand over your mouth to cover your screams of ecstasy. A large thumbs sitting over your clit, pulling tight circles over it pushing you over the edge, and as you go Karl thrust becomes harder and faster. He’s pushing himself to catch up with you. 

If he was a gentleman he would have prepped you, taken you out to dinner before fucking you like an absolute animal but a part of him thinks that how you like it. Being taken, whisked away and fucked for all to hear. Hell someone could knock or just burst in at any moment. Your tits bounce with every erratic thrust, your nails dragging against the back of his neck. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum again.” You scream and it’s Karls undoing. Tight, wet, warm walls squeeze him tightly, barely letting him leave to thrust back into your warm heat. “Fuck me Karl, just like that!” 

Your chest rises and falls as you both try to catch your breath, sweaty, and sticky from sex. The room smells like it too, but that alright especially when Karl reaches over your body still deep inside you to grab a few tissues to clean you up the best he can. “By the way” You say in a huff. “You can call me Y/n.” You say sarcastically, as if the moment here will ever happen again. “I will darlin’.” He says with a wink.

Completed on: 03/29/24

Posted on: 04/05/24

HH Tags-

[blood-red-ocean]

Alcina Dimitrescu X Sick (Fem) Reader

As requested by @alcinaslittlemaid! I hope you feel better soon ♥️

(I wrote this on my phone at volunteering so please excuse any typos/formatting/grammatical errors! I'll fix it at home if I need to.)

Genre: Fluff/Comfort

Category: F/F

Relationships: Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader

Word count: Approx. 1000 words.

Summary: You've come down with one hell of a flu, and you find yourself plodding to Alcina's quarters for comfort. Fluffiness and soft Alcina care ensues.

The Lady's bed dwarfed you as you lay in the centre of it, drowning in blankets and your own misery. When you'd awakened that morning, you felt like you'd been used as a chew toy for a Lycan, every muscle and joint in your body aching. You barely remember waking up in your own bed and miserably trodding out of your room and down the halls, blanket wrapped around you as a cape - what you did remember was your surprise when you entered the Lady's chambers, crawled into her bed, and were met with no strict words or resistance, only with an arm draped over you and a surprisingly soft voice. 

"Oh, draga... You truly aren't faring well, are you?" She had said, her voice breaking through the sickness-induced brain fog and prompting you to nuzzle into her embrace. She chuckled softly and you vaguely mentally registered her brushing some of your hair away from your face, tutting as her fingertips brushed your forehead. "You're positively burning up... We can't have you roaming the Castle in this state, now can we?"

You shook your head and coughed a little, wincing as your lungs protested the action. The Lady had tucked the numerous blankets around you as you hid your face your face in her embrace, her fingertips alternating between running through your hair and running up and down your spine. She hummed thoughtfully, murmuring to herself as you slipped in and out of a light doze. 

"Miranda, maybe...?" She paused. "No, Miranda wouldn't work. Donna, perhaps... Draga mea?" She was speaking to you now, and you didn't lift your head, just made a small sound of acknowledgement. "I need to retrieve something. It's of... Vital importance. Be a brave little thing and stay here, yes?"

If you had been more present, you would have noticed the lilt in her voice, and pieces together that she wasn't going to retrieve something for herself. As it was, you were exhausted and your mind was consumed by brain fog, and you could only whimper as she pulled away from you. She shushed you and caressed your cheek, whispering to you. "Do not fret, Iubita mea. I will return before you realise I've left. Be a good girl and stay here, for me."

And stay there is exactly what you did. The blankets covering you were heavy and soothing, the scent of the Lady's perfume making your senses come alight - or at least as well as they could, with your nose blocked. The crackling from the fire in the corner echoed around the room, gently lulling you back to sleep every time you woke up. Your sense of time was shaky in your sick state, and you weren't sure how long it had been since the Lady left the room. Just as you were thinking maybe you should drag yourself from the blankets and back to your own bed, the door swung open and the familiar sound of her heels on the hardwood floor blessed your ears. The sound came closer and there was a shuffling, followed by the bed dipping beside you. You distantly felt her hands patting the pile of blankets on top of you gingerly, and suddenly you felt them slip under you, pulling you from your little cave. 

"Now, now," she murmured in response to your indignant grumbling. "None of that. Come here, draga." 

She pulled you into her lap, where you curled up into her, your hand gripping the collar of her nightgown to keep her there. You closed your eyes and pressed your face into her, but not before you caught a glimpse of what she had brought in with her. Beside the two of you on the bed was a wooden tray, bearing an assortment of pastries, fruits, some honey and two cups of tea. One of them looked like regular herbal tea, and the other seemed to almost shimmer. You made a confused noise in the back of your throat and looked up at her. 

"That, dragostea mea, is a concoction of Donna's own creation." She lifted the cup to her nose and inhaled deeply. The sight of the teacup in her larger than ordinary hands made you smile weakly. "It is a combination of healing herbs, some roots, and some berries for sweetness. Come, draga." She held the cup to your lips and added, "It will make you feel better. You have my word."

You placed your hand over hers and obediently sipped the steaming liquid, blinking in surprise as the mixture of spices and sweet, tart berries exploded on your tongue. You kept drinking, the Lady rubbing your back and murmuring to you in Romanian as you did so. When the teacup was empty she pulled it away and replaced it with a sweet pastry, which you nibbled on thankfully. True to her word, you started to feel better, your mind clearing along with your sinuses. You realised with renewed clarity where you were and you blushed deeply, attempting to sit up. 

"I-- Thank you for looking after me, my Lady. But I--"

"What did I tell you about calling me that, prințesa mea? You can call me by my name. It's okay." 

"Alcina," Using her name felt powerful, intimate. "I really should be returning to my quarters, I should rest--"

"Nonsense." Alcina held you closer to her, her grip around you tighter. She smiled sweetly at you. "You have a raging fever, ursuleț. No, no, I really do think you need to stay here. You need to be properly taken care of." 

You didn't have it in you to argue, or even think about leaving her arms. You closed your eyes and let yourself slump against her, and you felt yourself drifting off again as she ran her fingers through her hair and rocked you, singing a lullaby in soft Romanian - singing you softly to sleep. 

[the-bar-sinister]

There was a certain level of pain that Karl Heisenberg was in every day of his life. It was his constant companion. As far as he knew, it was a simple fact of his being alive. It was a simple fact of what had been done to his body.

The pain waxed and waned but it never fully departed. There were herbs from Donna that helped but they dulled his mind and sent him to the land of the half dead.

Despite everything, Karl wanted to live. He wanted to live even though it hurt, even though it was hard.

He wanted to live, and he wanted to be in charge of his own life. And so he fought through the pain. He lived with the pain. He savored it. He trusted it.

Being in pain meant that he was still fighting. 

Karl Heisenberg dreamed of a body that didn't ache, and dreamed of a life where he wasn't a slave and a prisoner. But he would endure both. 

He would endure them as long as he had to. He would drink the joy in there was to be had from them, and he would come out the other side.

-

AO3 link

[aussiepineapple1st]

How Long? (Part 2)

Leon x F!Reader

Words: 2,011 Contains: Job Briefing, Caring Husband Leon.

Part 1 | Next

Riding through the chilled, early morning air of Washington, your head stays placed against Leon's back, you felt exhausted. Even though you had been sleeping a lot lately, you were surprised Leon hadn't picked up on it. Maybe he did and it would have now clicked with him as to why you had been so tired.

Your husband was very good at picking up on slight changes in your habits, but would always just observed without saying anything until he would become worried for your health or safety. The thing is you were used to pushing through your tiredness, being on jobs that required your full attention for days on end, the adrenaline would help keep you awake. But when you were at home, in the safety of the familiar and comforting 4 walls, you would give in to your tiredness and just sleep.

Leon had noticed your head resting on his back for the whole trip, keeping tabs on your grip around his abdomen. A few times he would feel it loosening and give your hands a gentle tap to wake you up. You only lived 30 minutes away from DSOHQ, when Leon was driving. Scanning his clearance card to open the underground car park, the sudden louder volume of the bike woke you up completely. Pulling your head from Leon's warm back, you wait for him to park in his named space before sliding off the back of his bike.

Stretching your arms over your head, your mouth widens in a yawn before letting your hands fall to your sides. "Ready to do the boring stuff?" You asked watching Leon flick the stand out and turn the key for the bike, creating silence as he flings his left leg over his bike.

"You know it." He said doing his little head tilt you loved so much.

Smiling you turn away from him and head for the door to the stairs, a warm hand grabbing yours at your side as you pull the handle down. Looking to your hand then to Leon who's hand was holding yours, a questioning look in your eyes.

"Let's take the elevator?" He suggested. Normally he would just follow you up the stairs.

You roll your eyes and give his hand a slight squeeze before pulling away from his gentle grip. "Leon.. Walking up stairs isn't going to hurt." You pull open the door and walk through it, Leon instinctively holding the door open as he watched you starting to ascend the stairs.

Huffing heavily his shoulders lower, deflating as his worried attempts backfired on him. But maybe you were right? Walking up stairs wasn't going to hurt you or the baby, he just didn't want you to put in the extra effort if there was a perfectly good elevator right there. Walking through the doorway he follows you up the stairs, meeting you on the 4th flight, both of you panting lightly from the exorcise. Yes, you were both fit, but stairs can make the most fit of people's hearts work hard. Leon thinks they should be called heart attacks not stairs, you however found them to be a good way to stay in shape.

Holding the door open for him you wait, watching him trudge up the last flight towards you. He reaches over your head taking the side of the door and letting you go first. It was a thing, you would try and get him to walk through doorways first. On rare occasions you would succeed when he wasn't paying attention, but when he was paying attention he would never walk through first. Letting you go ahead of him, he was such a gentleman.

You both make your way across the light, grey-blue carpet that really needed to be replaced. Having been walked on for so long it was starting to wear away, even having holes to the cement ground underneath in some spots. Through white halls you enter a large, square room with two levels. The second level having a railed off balcony, each room an office with the different workers and levels of management. The first level had desks in the centre of the room, these were for FOS workers. Though your own FOS worker, Ingrid Hunnigan had been here so long she had moved up to the second level with her own private office. The rooms around the first floor were the briefing and meeting rooms, today you were heading to room nine. Without any hesitation you both made your way to the door simply labelled 9, Leon opening the door to let you enter first.

Slipping past Leon you enter the dreary white room, black desk chairs line the edges and left end of a large, long table. On the right side of the room, a rolling white board and pull down white screen, the overhead projector hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the room. Standing at the whiteboard writing on it was none other than your favourite FOS, Ingrid Hunnigan. She turns after hearing the door opening and gives the both of you a smile, tired eyes still shinning bright behind her glasses.

"You're a bit early!" She greets, writing some last things before popping the lid off the back of the marker to covering the nib with a click. She closed the yellow file in her left hand, placing it to the side away from others on the long table.

"Yeah, Leon was speeding again." You walk up to the desk chair beside where Hunnigan was standing, taking a seat.

"I was not... I was going the usual."

"So speeding." You nod, swinging your chair from side to side.

Hunnigan only shook her head at your banter. "Well we should get started then." She looks down to the three yellow folders on the table, opening them all up and spreading the information out in front of her. "This is what first caught the President's attention." She says sliding out a report and placing it in front of you, Leon takes a seat in the desk chair beside yours, looking over the info now in front of you. "To sum it up, after the incident in Dulvey, Louisiana, the BSAA took the winters family to Romania under their protection. They have been mixed up once again in the same problem from three years ago." She paused for a moment to pull a few pictures out of the mix. "These were taken by a Recon group called the Hound Wolf Squad."

"Chris?" Leon asked reaching for the pictures placed on the table in front of you. They showed pictures of a caving system, a mass of black tendrils extending out of a large hole.

Hunnigan continues. "Yes, Redfield has written in his report that this black mass has the same properties found in the Mold back in Louisiana." She hands over some more pictures taken. "These are what made the president want you to head over to Romania."

You pick up the pictures, humanoid creatures looking like some half formed werewolves were skulking around in an enclosed cell. Another picture was of a woman, wrapped in rags, limbs cut and bruised with blood around her mouth. You frown, it didn't look like the Plaga, but it could be some kind of mutation? And the other creature, you didn't have a clue what that could be. "BOW's?" You asked, holding up the pictures for Leon to take while you look to Hunnigan.

She shrugs. "This very well could be the ones mentioned in the report, yes." She crossed her arms over her chest. "The President has contacted the BSAA's European branch and decided to send the both of you. See what information you can get, as well as help eradicate what may be happening there."

You speak up. "This report was made last year. Things would have changed since then." You point out.

Hunnigan nods. "Another reason why Mr. President wants to send both of you, just in case things have changed, and possibly not for the better." She sighs seeing the both of your expressions seeming unsure. "Look. I did some of my own digging last night before I called you. I found this deep in the BSAA's files under Redfield's name." She pulls out another piece of paper and hands it to you.

You read out the short excerpt. "Upon being killed the Lycan seem to exhibit signs similar to those infected by the Plaga. We have found old research labs with information of experiments done on the people in this village. There are mentions of a parasite called the Cadou." You look up to Leon. "So we're dealing with another parasite.. Great. Spain all over again." You sigh letting the page float back to the table.

"Your flight will be leaving at 10am for Romania. Here are your boarding passes and lanyards with signed documentation, indicating presidential acceptance for your weapons to be allowed on the flight." She hands the documentation, boarding pass and lanyard to each of you. "You will need to take these folders to look through on your flight."

You nod and start to scoop up everything in front of you, placing them in the yellow folders she had provided.

"I'm sorry the information is sporadic and old, but it's all I could find in the BSAA's archives as well as any information sent to the DSO." She gives a slight shrug.

"It's fine, Hunnigan. You did good." Leon nods as he stood up from his chair, your own swinging around. You stand up out of it with all the folders in your hands.

"What Leon means, is this information is enough for us to know what we could be up against. And I say, go home and go to sleep." You smile and turn to leave the room, expecting Leon to be following you. Leon however stays behind, waiting for you to be out of the room. He then turns to Ingrid who was looking at Leon with raised brows. He never just waited for you to leave the room like that.

"What's on your mind, Leon?" Her arms were crossed, she knew something was bothering him.

"Well.. You see it's.." Why was this so hard to spit out? He felt like he wanted to tell the world he was going to be a father, but at the same time scared of what it meant for you and your work. "What would it take to get (Y/N) a desk job for saaay... a few years?"

"Ah.. She finally told you."

"You KNEW!??"

Ingrid smiles a wide grin. "Yes, Leon.. Us women know these things about each other. And congratulations by the way. But I don't know if that could be possible. You and (Y/N) Are the best in the world at what you do and call to the President themself." She explained, watching Leon deflate, yet at the same time become more tense.

"I just.. It's dangerous what we do. And I can't have her going out and risk losing the baby. She's already been doing too much." He stressed.

Ingrid placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know.. I worry for their safety as well. I have spoken with the Chief Advisor, he's declined from placing her at a desk when she is needed on the field. And I don't have the power to go directly to the President." She said raising her brows, hinting her words to him.

He nods, he will bring it up the next time he sees the President. But right now, this mission was already assigned to the both of you and you couldn't back out now. He didn't like it, but you were going to have to go with him this time.

"Leon?" Your voice calls from the door. "I thought you were following me. I was talking to myself."

Leon turns to you and Hunnigan gives him a nod when he looks back her. "Thank you." He says before making sure he had everything then turning around to follow you out this time.

Part 1 | Next

🏷️: @phoenix666stuff @maehemthemisfit @greywardensaywhat @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders

[naturesapphic]

mommy!alcina dealing with reader who is having trouble with anxiety? or hurt/comfort? love your stories, keep up the great work!!

I’m not sure what to specifically write for this one since I already have a lot that I wrote about this topic. I’ll put some listed below for y’all to see :) 👇🏻

[tacticaldiary]

It Was Never Supposed to Be You

Pairing: Ethan Winters x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

They’re both strung up under the eye of Lady Dimitrescu, and Ethan’s forced to watch the love of his life endure a taste of what he’s used to going through. It ignites a rage in him he didn’t know was possible. 

A/N: A reimagining of the scene where Ethan gets strung up with sickles. 

Masterlist

She doesn’t see it coming. Neither of them do. 

Screams tear out of both their throats as the three woman cackle at them, dragging them along the floor. Panicked, she struggles to get out of the grasp the blonde one has around her ankle, looking over at Ethan to get a sense of the situation. 

Her blood runs cold when she notes that he’s not being dragged by his limbs. 

There are sickles pierced through his ankles, dragging him along the floor. Blood trails on the marble floors of the castle and urgency slams into her. She had to stop this, to save them, to get them out of here and check if he was okay and find Rose and-

They’re thrown into a room, weak and gasping for breath when the towering figure arrives, looming over them with bloodstained lips and a deathly complexation. 

Ethan’s ragged breath reaches her ears as he immediately shuffle his way in front of her, extending out an arm to shield her from the new hostiles. 

She gets a closer look at him, his legs bleeding, a pool of crimson puddling beneath him. It makes her sick, seeing her boyfriend’s physical indication of such hurt. 

They had come here to find Rose after Mia had come over to visit Rose. Ethan and her had separated a year after the Louisiana incident, and he’d found happiness in somebody else, in her. Mia came over to visit Rose, but their dinner was rudely interuppted by Chris Redfield shooting her dead in the middle of dinner. She’d never get the ringing of the bullets out of her head. They were taking her away, they were taking Ethan away, and when she’d tried to defend Rose, to shield her and run, she’d been knocked out and taken as well. 

It was a horrible chain of events. Rose was gone, the village was overrun, and most importantly, four women looked down at them like they wanted to devour them. 

“Mother,” One of the women says gleefully. “We bring you fresh pray.”

“You are so very kind to me, daughters.” The tall one grins, cocking her head as if to size them up. 

“Stay behind me.” Ethan breathes, staring up at them in turn, frantically trying ot click together a plan of action. She clutches onto the back of his jacket, a small sense of comfort.

She’s fully ready to shove him out of the way and take the brunt of whatever was to be thrown at them, that much she knows. She loves this man just as much as he loves her, and it was only logical that if it came down to her life or his, she’d choose Ethan’s every time. 

Rose deserved to have a father, after all. 

She would not let that bundle of sunshine become an orphan. Not of her watch.

“Let’s have a closer look at them, shall we?” She taunts, striding closer. “Ethan Winters.” She drawls, then her eyes flick over to her. “And his lovely companion. I see you’ve escaped my foolish little brother’s games.”

“What do you want?” She spits out, feeling Ethan stiffen under her grasp. “Where’s Rose?” 

Fearless. It was one of the qualities that had drawn Ethan to her in the first place. Ready to take on anything thrown at her, she did not mind in the slightest that he had his demons. Rather, she did her best to fight them alongside him, soothing him during the rough night in a way Mia never could do, helping him through the tests and the demands of the BSAA. 

But right now that bravery instills in him a fear so potent it stuns him.

She is ignored, almost as if she had never spoken in the first place. The woman seems far too taken with Ethan, approaching him. “Let’s see how special you really are.” She sneers, clicking her fingers. 

The both of them struggle and yell in protest as two of the younger women rip her away from Ethan, off to the side, their grips cold and unrelenting as they hold her down. 

“Get the fuck away from him!” She snarls, struggling as the tall woman approaches a pale Ethan with a knife. He looks unwell, and she knows that he’s already rather weak to begin with. Always one to push forward, always insisting he take the lead and the brunt of the damage during all of their encounters. She never lets him, but he manages to protect her anyway, sustaining injuries that would have made her collapse and still pushing through anyway.

Ethan chokes out a gasp as the knife slices through his bandaged palm. She watches in horror as the woman...licks? Licks the blood off of his hand, drinking it in greedily. Sick. These people were sick. 

“Hmm. Going a little stale. I’d assume the same for the other one.” She hums thoughtfully. It makes her stomach turn. 

They go on about devouring them, who gets the first taste, but all she can focus on is Ethan, kneeling there exceptionally pale and panting, trying and failing to get himself to move, to act. 

“...later there will be enough for everyone.” The woman chuckles. “Put them up!” She orders, and before she can make sense of what the woman means, two of the girls approach Ethan with the sickles from before. 

He screams as they hook through both his hands, right through flesh and bone, lets out another choked cry as he’s yanked up by chains and strung there, gasping heavily. “Let me...Let me down!” He chokes out.

“Ethan!” She screams, voice cracking, her struggle intensifying. Shit. Shit. 

“Don’t think we forgot about you.” A voice whispers in her ear. The two women approach her, another set of sickles in hand. 

“No...no!” She yells, struggling to no avail, adrenaline pumping through her veins. 

“Get-...” Ethan coughs, voice shaky. “Stay the fuck away...away f-from her.” He spits out weakly. 

It’s not enough. 

White hot pain cuts through her hands as two sickles impale themselves through her palms. She shouts her pain and doubles over, screaming again when she’s yanked up off of her feet just like Ethan. 

It hurts. It hurts in a way she never thought any kind of pain could. Taking off of her weight, her hands feel like they’re on fire, agony coursing through her muscles. The pained sob tears out of her throat without permission as she squeezes her eyes shut. 

There’s cackling, footsteps, mumbled conversations amongst themselves, and then the click of the door shutting. 

Silence. Just two sets of labored breathing mixed with the occasional whimpers. 

“Are-are you okay?” Ethan grits out. He’s trembling, in agony, but his first thought is of whether she’s okay.

“F-fine.” She gasps out. “Have to- have to get out.” The words cut themselves off with another involuntary sob. It hurts. It really fucking hurts.

“Shit.” She hears him curse under his breath. He shakily looks up at his hands, the gears in his head turning. He swallows, seemingly coming to a decision. She can’t catch what his intentions are quick enough, because before she can protest, he draws in a long, shaky breath-

And yanks until the sickle tears right through his palm. 

His pained scream echoes out through the hall, and it makes her eyes sting with tears. “Ethan...” She gasps. “St-stop that. You’re hurting yourself.” She whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut as he ignores her, and does the same to his other hand, another sound cracking through the room. 

His body hits the floor with a sickening thump, and she can hear him trying to calm himself down, to steady his breathing while he stumbles over to her. 

“I’ve-I’ve got you.” He pants, trying to steady his voice for her. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

Hands bleeding, he stumbles over to the chains spiked into the wall, holding her up. Gritting his teeth at the sharp pain that clutching his knife brings him, he wedges the blade into the mechanism and pushes down until it breaks. 

She’s weightless for a moment, and then she hits the ground. The pressure off of her hands is a relief, but the sight of them right in front of her, impaled makes her sick and dizzy. 

Hands on her shoulder, bloody and shaky, but warm and familiar. “You’re alright.” He assures her. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.” 

“There’s still in my hands.” She breathes out slowly, trying to calm herself. 

Ethan clenches his jaw and nods. “I’m gonna get them out, okay? It’ll-It’ll hurt like a bitch but we have to do it.”

She nods. There’s no way around this. She has to get them out. “Shit, okay just-just do it.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she bares her hands at him. 

Ethan guides her head to his shoulder, telling her to brace herself. Pressing her forehead to him, she nods, readying herself. 

The first sickle out makes black dots float around her vision. 

The second one out brings up the bile that’s been churning in her stomach. Leaning to the side, she vomits up the small rations they’ve eaten hours and hours ago, coughing and heaving. Ethan holds her hair out of her face, shaking just as much as she is, whispering that they were alright. 

Once she’s finished, she coughs and straightens up sluggishly, trying to catch her breath. She finds Ethan looking at her intently, watching her for a moment and she thinks she might have caught something like guilt in his soft eyes. 

Unable to stomach that, she looks away, catching sight of a green bottle propped onto the dresser. “Ethan.” She gestures to it, pulling herself to her feet with great difficulty and stumbling over to it. 

She brings the bottle to him and uncorks it, grabbing his hands to pour the miracle liquid over them, when it’s plucked straight out of her hands. 

“You first,” Ethan says shakily, not giving her a chance to protest. He pours the liquid over both of her hands in turn, making sure the wounds stitch close before letting her tug the bottle away. 

The cool liquid over his hands tears a relieved sigh out of him, the pain ebbing away and subsiding. 

For a moment, they both flex their hands, testing the function of their fingers in mutual silence, checking themselves over for how they feel. 

Then she launches herself onto him, Ethan’s arms wrapping around her waist instinctively. She kisses him urgently, quick but meaningful. 

“I thought we were going to die.” She mumbles against his lips. “Scared me to death.”

“Me too.” He admits when she pulls away. His eyes roam over her body as if scared he’d suddenly find another massive stab wound or puncture. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Me too.” She chuckles nervously. “We’re alright.” He nods in agreement.

“We’re fine.” He confirms, trying to convince both her and himself. He stands and offers her a hand, pulling her to her feet. “We have to keep going.” He says, looking around the room but keeping her hand in a firm grip, lacing their fingers together.

“Let’s go find Rose.” She agrees. “I’m setting those bitches on fire the next time I see them.”

“Agreed.” 

Requests Are Open!

(16/06/2023)