"Hope You All Have Been Good! Otherwise I Have To Beat You For Being Naughty."

I am not gonna be what my daddy wants me to be

Albert Wesker would be that YouTuber whose videos slowly get unhinged over time and you see him descend into madness.

Moments like that get me so emotional and happy ;_;

Choices have consequences

Alejandro Vargas x reader (GN)

Warning: light angst, culinary crimes, talk about past food insecurity.

Summary: There is an unwritten rule that you assumed Alejandro would have learned by now, after three years of committed relationship: don't anger the cook. You were wrong.

On AO3

A/N: I'm like, five vodka cocktails in. If there are any mistakes I'll fix them when I'm sober. Also I got inspired by @ragingbookdragon 's badass reader because I just know Alejandro is. So. Whipped.

When you had decided to move in together, an arrangement was made: all household chores would be shared when he was present, but you would be in charge of meal planning and cooking.

It was a convenient set-up for the two of you; you wouldn't be burdened with all the chores when he was off-duty, and would only look after your own load of housekeeping when you were by yourself. Besides, Alejandro was by no means an incapable man when cooking, you were just better than him in that regard - by a lightyear.

To you, cooking wasn't just a means to an end - it was an act of service, a declaration of love. And to date a passionate man as Alejandro, you showed the same passion for your culinary art.

The kitchen was your realm, and you were the regent. No matter whoever was going to be the recipient of your hard work, you always chose the finest ingredients. You loved to experiment with flavours and aromas. You had transformed an unused closet at the far end of your kitchen into a walk-in pantry - your spices occupied nearly an entire wall in there.

You put your heart and soul into every dish, it didn't matter if it was for Alejandro and you, a house full of guests, or just yourself. Those close to the both of you knew that a dinner invitation to your house meant a culinary experience that could rival that of a Michelin star restaurant.

And you were damn proud of yourself for that. You nurtured yourself on the faces of your guests when their head tilted slightly backwards, their eyes closed, and a soft moan escaped them as soon as they tried your meals. Alejandro himself had more than once interrupted himself from eating to cup your face in his hands and kiss you to thank you for your efforts.

Which is why the very words that came out of his mouth hit you like a train dead on.

Granted, he didn't say them to you directly, you overheard him on accident the previous day while he was talking on the phone. You didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he wasn't being secretive either. He was sitting in the living room, and the conversation was quite light-hearted, so you assumed that the topic was nothing related to his work. You still kept quiet, sneaking behind him to grab a book you had meant to start reading for a while.

The conversation had shifted to meals, somehow, and it caught your attention immediately when he mentioned some of the meals you often made. It never failed to warm your heart when he gushed about your culinary skills.

"...I mean, I appreciate the effort because it's such a hassle to cook and they do it all from scratch, but a few times it felt like I was eating rations in the field."

...What?

He couldn't be talking about your food, right?

...Right?

He ended his sentence with a chuckle, and you just stood there, fingers grasping the spine of the book. Your eyes were fixed on the shelf as his conversation moved on, his voice fading from your perception.

There was a weight on your chest that expanded to the bottom of your stomach and to the middle of your head, settling right behind your eyes. Knowing what was to come, you left the book in its place and walked back to the room you'd come from, just as quietly as you'd arrived.

After twenty minutes or so, you emerged from your hiding place, face freshly washed and - hopefully - no traces of the little angst marathon you went through. Alejandro still sat in the living room, this time he was watching a rerun of some fútbol match, completely unaware of the beast he had unknowingly set loose.

You walked straight to the kitchen with a newfound determination, a mission if you will. After gulping two cups of water to rehydrate yourself - and a quick prayer to your late abuela for forgiveness for the crime you were about to commit - you put your hands to work. You usually took about two hours to cook, but you were sure that you would be over much quicker than that.

You carefully washed, sliced, and prepared the main ingredients, making sure that the meal would have everything necessary to look absolutely normal. You were akin to an explosives expert assembling a bomb, every step carefully calculated to achieve your goal.

The light scent of that escaped from the pot caught Alejandro's attention, and he robotically moved to set the table. You stole a glance at him, finding him eager and looking forward to dinner with a tiny grin on his face.

Estúpido mimado.

A few more minutes passed and the rice stew was ready. You looked at it, quite bland and lacking some colour, and knowing exactly how it would taste. Memories from a time long past flashed in your mind and you forced yourself to shoo them away. Carefully, you brought the pot to the table and filled two plates - Alejandro's, like always, had a extra spoonful.

You both sat down and started eating. You kept your eyes on your plate as you heard him chomp down eagerly, then quietly slow down until pulling to a stop. You tried your best not to break into a devilish smirk as he finally spoke to you.

"... Mi amor?" He sounded confused, if not a bit concerned, "the food tastes... Uh... Different than usual."

"...Yeah?," You quipped, knowing exactly what was wrong with the food, it wasn't just bland. It was sick dog level of blandness. No spices at all, no herbs, not even salt. "I tried a new recipe today."

"Uh, okay?," He frowned a bit, slowly pushing the food around with his plate, wondering how to tell you that he didn't like it one bit, "it just... It has no spices...?"

You can't contain your smirk this time, it felt like getting away with a crime. It was a criminal masterpiece.

"Pues claro, mi amor," your voice was sweet, but the mirth in your tone couldn't be hidden, and ran a shiver down his spine, "I wanted to emulate the flavour of the rations you seem to love so much."

Alejandro blinked once, twice, and felt his blood run cold. Had you heard him?

"Mi amor-" he began, but you interrupted him, pointing your spoon to his face.

"Escúchame bien Alejandro Vargas," you scolded him and he gulped and shut his mouth, sitting straight in his chair, "this kind of food would've been a banquet for me growing up. The sort of food I so lovingly dedicate myself to prepare everyday is the result of my dreams and desires from when I was a kid, and you disrespected that by acting como un estúpido mimado."

"Pero claro," you pitch raised and Alejandro had flashbacks of his own mamá whenever he got a scolding, "el señor put my meals at the same level of the rations he gets from the army, which I know how they taste like and don't you forget that," you accentuated every syllable with the spoon, which was still pointed at his face. Alejandro gulped as he watched you, and you continued on, "so I decided that you will eat this meal - all of it - and be thankful for every meal you receive from today on, mine or the army's, because making fun of the meals I so lovingly make for you is the same as making fun of me as a kid who got this only when there was something to celebrate. Entendido?"

"...Si, mi vida," Alejandro stated with a nod, feeling like a little kid under your harsh glare, "cada palabra."

"Good," you nodded, and carried on with eating your own meal, "que sea la última vez."

Alejandro took a few seconds to carry on with his meal, making a mental note to bring you a bouquet of flowers in the morning with your breakfast.

Self aware tsum tsum Wesker blurb idea from a friend :D

You just got your new little bean guy, and you’re so excited to have him. He fits in your hands and on top of your head, in your hoodie, in your shirt, in your pockets. Anywhere he fits, he sits. Work or study, he’s with you.

However you were not expecting a very loud response when you left in another room to grab something. It had you running back into the room wondering what made such a noise. Low and behold, it was the tiny Wesker plushie you now had. He seemed angry, although he did always look angry.

You blinked as he turned his little body to you. He wobbled side to side to walk, and it was so cute to see his already chubby cheeks puff up in anger.

You bent over to look at him better as he waddled over to you, nearing the edge of the desk you left him on.

“You left me here!” A very indignant tone called from the tiny plushie.

Blinking at him, you wondered if you really just heard your plushie talk to you. He huffed again as you stared down at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t just stare at me! Pick me up!” He demanded, almost childishly. You did as told and held him in your hands once more.

“Now don’t leave without me again.” He huffed, getting comfortable in your hands, like a small rabbit. Wobbling side to side to face the other way to see where you two will be going next.

It’s him.. its the evil resident

im on my König brainrot atm. What if a reader half a head smaller then König took him down? Like reader got into a bet with someone to spare with König and to get him to the ground and winning. How would König feel knowing the reader can take him down?

Hello @spookybreadbluebird !!!

I enjoyed this one a lot! It was very, different to write for me, especially the mini-fight scene...

But I do hope you enjoy it!

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König + Slightly Short!Male Reader

Y/n couldn't help but be pissed when he found himself on the sparring mat and König in front of him, looking away shyly but Y/n knew better than to underestimate his opponents.

König might have had the advantage with his size slightly, considering Y/n stood at 6'5, but it didn't matter when it came down to pure skill.

Sometimes he wondered why he ever let Soap convince him into a damn bet that was pointless at all...

It was a slow day in the 141 base when Soap had walked into his office, sweaty and tired as he sat down in some random chair. The man had just came from a training session as he took his time to regain his breathing before looking up to Y/n.

"That König, he sure is something... Feels like he was hitting me with bricks. I doubt anyone else can beat him aside from Ghost..."

Y/n let out a simple hum as he continued to work on his paperwork in front of him. The Sergeant’s face fell slightly before leaning back onto the chair more.

Y/n failed to notice the smirk on the Scottish man's face as he conjured up an idea.

"You know Y/n, I think König can even beat you too... Hell, I don't even think you could put him down if you tried."

Y/n fingers stopped dancing over the keyboard as he pushed himself away from his desk.

He sent a stern glare Soap's way, watching the man flinch in the process.

"You think I can't take down König, Sergeant?" he questioned, voice low and sinister.

"I bet you can't, sir," Soap responded looking him dead in the eyes.

"Just watch and learn," and with that Y/n got up and walked towards his door before making his way towards the sparring mats. Soap followed from behind like a lost puppy, grinning from ear to ear as he was eager to see what would be the outcome.

And now here Y/n was, facing König when he could have been finishing that paperwork that he needed to turn into Price later on.

Well, he was here now and to backing out would make him look weak, and Lieutenant Y/n had no intentions on doing so.

He took a deep breath before relaxing and finding himself into his main fighting stance, staring daggers into the Austrian's eyes.

He didn't say anything as some shouted "Go" from beside him and he was off.

König was quick to react to Y/n's right hook towards his jaw, dodging his head to the left slightly, thinking he was out of harms way.

Big mistake.

Y/n aimed a well-placed knee towards the Austrian's abdomen, knocking the wind out of the man before taking advantage of the small time to grab König's arms and throw the man's full weight over his head on the ground. From there, he put the man in an arm lock and pulled with enough force to not break it, but bask in the painful cries that feel from his lips.

Soon enough, König tapped and as Y/n let go of him.

Y/n looked back at König, watching the man sit there in shock at the loss, eyes wide underneath the sniper hood.

Y/n offered him a hand, watching the Austrian take it and pulled him into a standing position.

"How?" König asked in a small voice.

"You have a lot of openings in your form," Y/n explained, "And you're surprised easily."

König looked at Y/n in awe as he took in the words.

"I have work to do now," Y/n turned on his heel as he made his way back to his office.

Soap sat there gawking, guess he owned the Lieutenant something now.

König P.O.V.

He couldn't believe it.

Y/n made it look so easy.

So effortless.

So simple when he took him down.

He could only watch as the man carried himself back to his office like he didn't just kick someone ass with ease.

He said he was easy fo read... Was he really?

Was he that much of an open book?

After all his years of fighting, he had never been taken down so quickly.

Hell, if this were a real fight, he would have been death.

He could only stare at where the Lieutenant used to be in silence.

Perhaps, if he was lucky, he could learn a think or two from the man.

The next day, he found himself in front of Y/n's office, taking a deep breath before going in.

"Lieutenant Y/n."

"König, you need something?"

"Sir, after yesterday...would you," he hesitated, " would you be willing to train me?"

Y/n let out a low chuckle as he eyed him up and down.

"You sure you want this?"

He froze in place before grounding himself.

"Sir, I need this..."

Y/n sent him a smile.

"Sparring mats tonight, don't be late."

König stared before saluting him.

"Of course, sir."

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-Guards

( ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ)…… “There’s no time for resting”

The favorite

i just heard about this, and all i have to say is that the situation is indeed very f*ckd up.

may Inquisitor find his forever peace. ❤️‍🩹

for Inquisitor, you will be missed♥

tried to create his model based on his cosplay