You wake in a shadowy realm to find a devilishly handsome man hunting you. When you come face-to-face with him you expect to be killed, but Albert Wesker has other plans for you...
Dead by Daylight Albert Wesker x Reader fanfiction based off a dream...
As I groggily regain consciousness, the piercing sound of screams pierces through the haze. Slowly, I pull myself up to a sitting position, disoriented yet relieved to find myself still alive. Questions race through my mind, wondering why I was spared while others suffer.
A black woman, pleading for help, catches my attention. Determined to assist her, I rise to my feet, surprised to find my throat free of any lingering pain.
"Hang on, I'll get you."
However, as I extend my hand towards her, she recoils in fear, her eyes widening with an intensity I can't comprehend.
"Don't fucking touch me."
"What? Are you insane? You're on a fucking hook, lady. Let me help you."
"Don't you goddamn touch me," she hisses.
"Fine," I say, throwing my hands up. If she wants to die, I won't ruin her funeral.
As I ascend the staircase, my heart pounds in my chest, anxiety gnawing at my thoughts. The threat of my relentless pursuer lingers in the air, a constant reminder of the perilous game I find myself trapped within. Every step feels like a delicate dance on the edge of oblivion.
I push forward, determined to locate Bill and secure our freedom from this nightmarish realm. My only lead lies with the generator, and so I exit the crumbling house and make my way toward it.
The hum of gears reaches my ears as I draw closer to the generator. There, I spot Bill, crouched beside it, tending to its mechanisms.
Startled, Bill takes a step back upon seeing me, his expression a mixture of disbelief and concern. "Holy shit, are you okay?" he asks, his voice laced with worry.
A sense of bewilderment fills me as I contemplate his question. Despite the torment I endured, I realize that physically, I feel surprisingly unharmed. "I... I should be worse off, considering what happened," I reply, my voice tinged with confusion. "Why do you ask?"
"Look at your hands," Bill says anxiously.
Bill directs my attention to my hands, and as I glance down, a wave of shock and horror washes over me. Worm-like creatures writhe and squirm, their dark forms penetrating my flesh, a grotesque display of their parasitic invasion. Though it is hard to attribute emotions to worms, these seem to be having a blast from the looks of it.
"What the hell is happening to me?" I exclaim, my voice a mixture of fear and confusion. Bill urgently hushes me, warning me not to draw attention.
"He infected you, but this... this is beyond anything I've seen before," Bill explains, his voice tinged with worry. "I'm surprised you're still moving. I could barely stand when I was infected, and it wasn't nearly as bad as yours. We need to find an antidote spray."
"Where should we search for the spray?" I inquire, urgency lacing my voice as I prepare for the looming threat of time running out.
"In the neighboring houses. I'll try to help you find it. I can't imagine you have much longer," Bill responds, his hands trembling as he wipes them on his pants. "Let's move."
Together, we make our way to the house opposite the one filled with torment, scouring each ugly-wallpapered room with meticulous desperation in search of a chest containing the elusive spray. With no luck in the first house, we press on to the next.
Finally, in the bedroom of the last house, our perseverance pays off. A chest reveals its hidden treasure—a single bottle of antidote.
"Use it and you'll be good as new," Bill says, handing me the can. I spray it generously over my entire body, hoping it works as fast as Bill says it does. As the canister empties, relief washes over me, the sensation of the worms fading away. I begin to regain my composure, ready to head back to the generator and put an end to this nightmare.
But Bill's voice catches in his throat, his eyes widening in alarm.
"The worms... they're gone, but... your eyes..." he stammers, trailing off.
Before I can ask, the ominous sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps reverberates through the air, snuffing out any hope of respite.
Panic grips my heart as we desperately search for a hiding spot, but all we find is the bed in the center of the room. Bill and I swiftly slide under the bed, pressing ourselves against the dusty floorboards, our eyes fixed on the doorway with trepidation.
"You can't hide forever."
His black boots appear in the doorway as he speaks, turning on his heel and heading straight for the bed. I bite my lip, tears welling in my eyes, as I try to suppress the overwhelming fear coursing through my veins.
But it's futile.
In a blink, he grabs Bill, yanking him from under the bed with a speed that defies comprehension. The shock freezes me for a moment, and as I witness the helpless struggle of my friend, suspended upside down by his foot, I can no longer contain the surge of adrenaline.
With a burst of determination, I scramble out from under the bed and sprint towards the bedroom door. I steal a glance back, locking eyes with the blond man whose grip tightens around Bill. His crimson eyes glimmer briefly, but he doesn't pursue me. It's now or never.
I dash down the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest, and make a beeline for the kitchen, my mind fixated on reaching the back exit as my only hope of escape.
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