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Now Playing: Devil in Disguise by Marino {S.T.A.R.S!Wesker x Fem!Reader}

What rotten luck you had…

Being late on your first day as the receptionist of the Raccoon City Police Department was not a good look. Maybe they would be lenient… Hopefully they would be lenient…

As you stepped off the train, you hauled ass, despite your poor choice of shoes—Oatmeal coloured kitten heels with a small rubber bow on top. In your defense, they’re cute! The heels matched with the rest of your outfit and completed your ensemble perfectly!! It had you doing little twirls in your mirror last night, when you had tried it on for the forty-thousandth time. But, back to the present!

The single earbud in your ear played your playlist of choice, adding a lovely soundtrack that fit your circumstance—Sprinting through the busy streets of Raccoon city, and recalling the route to the RPD.

As you round the corner to scramble up the steep carved steps, you slam into the opening, oversized, mahogany doors and go flying to the ground. Your purse and its contents fall to the stairs while your earbud is dislodged—Right as you hear the beginning notes of the next song…

“You think the devil has horns? Well, so did I…”

With a groan and a gentle hand pressed to your temple, you look up at the man who swung the door into you and your breath leaves your lungs…

He’s fucking gorgeous!!

Tall with platinum blond hair and blue eyes that look like they’re a sky caught between a storm and a clear forecast (which just so happen to be reflecting concern). He wears a uniform you don’t recognize to be the standard RPD dress. However, in his shoulders he carries the same amount of authority of an officer.

“God- I am soooo sorry!” You quickly scramble to grab your discarded earbud and shuffle to your knees to start collecting your things. The man chuckles, a deep, hearty sound that makes you want to- Focus!!

Ah, right. You shake the thoughts from your head while he crouches to your height and begins to help you collect your things. A discarded lipgloss, chapstick, your coin purse and train pass.

“It’s quite alright. Are you ok? Bruised anywhere? Bleeding?” He asks and hands you your purse back as you both stand. He towers over you. Maybe… 6 foot 4? No, definitely 6 foot 6.

“A-ah, y-yes, I am… Thank you for asking… That’s so embarrassing. Thank you for your help Mr…?” You trail off, asking for his name without voicing the question verbatim.

“Captain.” He corrects and stoops down to pick up your phone.

“Captain Albert Wesker of the S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team.” He twirls the device and holds it out to you. Before you collect it from him, those striking blue eyes flit down and he smirks.

“Great song choice.” He remarks before turning back to the steps and jogging down them. “See you around, Angel.” The blond captain calls over his shoulder before disappearing into one of the cruisers.

You blink, just watching him go, utterly entranced by his sheer presence… Before it dawns on you that you are still late! With a panicked squeak, you yank open the station’s door and disappear into the building.

~~~

The later half of your first week at the RPD went remarkably better than your initial day. It being a Friday evening, a handful of officers had invited you out to celebrate surviving your first few days. Rita Phillips–who made a point to ensure you felt welcome–had recommended a couple of bars to crawl between in a strip of downtown, which is where you find yourself now…

Marvin was playing impromptu babysitter/wrangler to a very drunken Rita and David, who were insisting on queuing for karaoke. At the same time, Kevin was strutting (read: stumbling) down the sidewalk (and street) with enough confidence to convince Aaron that he knew where he was going. He did not have a clue where he was headed. Tony had called it a night after the 3rd bar and was back at his apartment… Hopefully...

As for yourself, the bar got crowded quickly and you had to excuse yourself to step outside for some fresh air. Reminiscing on the hazy past couple of hours left you feeling a sense of warmth in your chest. Warmth from the bonds you had already formed with your coworkers.

Nothing could ruin this…

~~~

Wesker’s lip curled slightly with disdain as he strode through the growing crowds of bar patrons as they ducked from building to building in the downtown strip of Raccoon City. At the sight of him, many averted their gaze and scrambled to get the hell out of his way as the blonde approached.

Hidden behind his dark lenses, stormy blue eyes honed in on the lone figure leaning against the stone brick wall of Clocktower, his personal bar of choice. He recognized her, of course he did. The new receptionist, after Irons scared away the old one… This one seemed… Unremarkable. Quaint. Susceptible. He could work with this. The scowl twists into a smirk. With a deft, gloved hand, he brushed his perfect hair back and flashed a perfect, pearly white smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

~~~

People-watching was a favored pastime for drunk you.

Observing as college students and friend groups dragged each other to the next line, laughing as they chattered on, reciting inside jokes made earlier in the night. Or salary men trip over themselves on their way out of their preferred taverns, hazy smiles on their lips and off-key songs warbled out into the air. You chuckle and shake your head before a bitter chill has you covering your shoulders and shivering.

A pair of black shined men’s dress shoes come into view, a few inches from your own… The same scuffed oatmeal heels you wore on your first day.

A thick, cotton, overcoat-like layer is draped over your shoulders. The generous soul who granted you an additional barrier from the cold air speaks, a low, familiar tone… “Careful, Angel… I’d hate to hear you caught a cold after fraternizing with my officers...” The smooth, velvety voice of Captain Albert Wesker muses, his teasing words are low and silky when they reach your ear. The smirk in his tone is evident even without you glancing up at him.

You blink rapidly and lookup, cheeks already pink from the cold, now red from just… being in his presence. Power and control and an awe inspiring cool radiate off him, rendering you speechless for a moment.

Wesker just offers you a hand, covered in a smooth, black leather glove. “A pretty girl like you can’t be alone. It isn’t safe. Allow me to walk you home.” There’s no room to argue when he speaks. “As you already know, the city hasn't been the safest as of late… Too many….” He pauses and clicks his tongue in thought. “Devils.” The man concludes with a suave chuckle. Like he was laughing at a joke that had been made out of your earshot.

His fingers twitch, drawing your attention once more, and silently insisting on your own. “Come on now, Angel… You’ll get sick if you stay out any longer. The temperature is going to drop soon.” Wesker purrs. “A-ah! Right! Thank you!” You scramble to readjust the outer later he gave you, and follow. As the weight of your hand rests in his, his smile sharpens as he guides you away from the bar and the bustling streets of downtown.

~~~

The walk back home should have been sobering.

And maybe it was, in the sense that your buzz had dulled beneath the low hum of nerves and the warmth spreading through your limbs that had little to do with the coat on your shoulders. Every step echoed in your ears—his pace steady, deliberate. Not fast, not slow. Just measured. Like he didn’t need to rush.

You talked, but it wasn’t small talk. It was… polite. Too polite. He asked about your first impressions of the department. About your dreams. Your background. How long you’d lived in the city. If anyone was waiting for you at home. You tried to ask questions back—but he had a way of deflecting them. Not rudely, smoothly. Casually. A subtle redirection so clean you barely noticed the sleight of hand until you were already talking about yourself again. And all the while, those lenses glinted under the streetlights. Watching. Listening.

When you reached your building, he stopped with you at the stairs.

“Here we are,” you said, offering a grateful smile. Wesker returned it. That same blinding, photo-op smile. His eyes invisible behind the glasses. His expression unreadable beneath the glow of the flickering overhead bulb.

“A pretty girl like you can’t be alone,” he murmured again, echoing himself from earlier. “Not in a city like this. Not with the way it’s changing…” You nodded, unsure what else to say. Something about him had shifted. Gone quieter. He reached out, and for a second, you tensed—only for him to brush his knuckles against your cheek and play off the action by tugging gently at the coat around your shoulders.

Pure white. Crisp. Just barely smelling like chemicals and ozone. Like a la-

“Because the devils of this city…” he continued aloud, almost wistfully, “would be eager to take all that you own. And strip you to the bone...”

You shivered. Not from fear. Not from cold. Just from something ancient in your gut whispering warnings.

Swallowing thickly, you speak shakily. “Th-thank you, Captain. Really. For the coat. And walking me home. Good night.”

“Good night, Angel,” he said, with the kind of smile you didn’t know whether to run from or lean into.

Giving him one more nod of farewell, you slide your key in and push the door open, reveling in the warmth and safety of your home.

As you maneuver about, grabbing a glass of water and discarding your keys onto the counter, you hum the catchy little tune from the song you were listening earlier in the week.

“But I was wrong, his hair is combed and he wears a suit and tie. He's nice, polite, he'll catch you by surprise. A smile so bright, he’s the devil in disguise…”

~~~

Outside your home, still on the paved path leading up to the porch, Wesker stood. All else the same, save for the tilt of his head and the narrowing of his eyes.

A breeze blows by and disturbs that perfect blond hair… Flicking two styled strands up and out of place…

Into the shape resembling that of horns…

Fin.

Masterlist

#resident evil x reader #albert wesker x reader #s.t.a.r.s.!wesker

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