🌟bILLIE eILISH smut 🌟

Vampiric tendencies (B.E.)

basically, lately i have getting back into re8 and the Dimitrescu women. i can't get over them, the have such a chokehold over me ☹️😩. and because i've got back into it, i wanna write bout vampires now.

so, vampire billie i guess, she's crazy but we lowkey love it, okay? she's gonna be like a mix of bela and cassandra if you know the characters. if not, it's fine.

you are gonna be someone who discovers secrets and the truth about mysterious disappearances of old objects and valuable items such as jewelry from the 18th century, paintings from the 14th century, and other old ancient goodies.

hints to re7 and 8. so i obviously don't own any RE content. I just like the lore.

soz for mistakes looooll i never read through for mistakes

A large house stood in the middle of the yellow field full of crops and wheat in a more secluded area of Texas. There were old, worn out fences planted around the perimeter of the large building. The house itself was creaking and groaning as the wind harshly barged past it; although, that didn't stop the weather from being extremely sunny and humid.

Your eyes squinted as you panted softly, looking up from your worn-and-torn map you were given by one of your clients who wanted to know about the mysterious disappearance of one of their old family heirlooms and, if possible, have it returned and given back to their family—where it rightfully belonged. Because of such beautiful weather, your loose shirt, which was slightly-unbuttoned near the collar, clung to your back since your slightly empty backpack pressed into the muscles in your back.

"This must be it," You mumbled to yourself, sighing as you shoved the map into the side of your backpack. You had to use this specific map your client gave to you because the building, or small farm, wasn't registered on any maps on the internet. You didn't know why and it was not your place to ask questions.

For safety, you had a knife strapped to the fabric of your jeans on your thigh, another in your boot and yet another on your hip. In your bag, you had a gun with two magazines filled with bullets, and you had a taser. You came prepared. Being in this field of work can often mean you putting yourself in danger. You had learned how to fight and protect yourself for moments where it was life or death, or when you simply had to fight some crazy people off of you when you tried to collect stolen items for your clients. Deciding how was the best time for it, you grab the gun and the taser and stuff them in your tool belt hanging around your hips.

You put aside your emotions and how much you dreaded the idea of going closer to the house and put one foot in front of the other. Your boots pressed against the dry mud and dirt on the ground, it looked like it was almost a pathway to the old building. This planted the idea in your head that someone had to be walking this route often enough for it the grass to not be able to grow there because the pathway was used so much. You put yourself on high alert—ears picking up every sound and eyes every small detail.

This particular adventure you were on was all because a client wanted their grandparents' grandparents' painting they had bought in an auction in 1869. Your client had told you extra information such as the fact it was extremely important to the family and that someone had stolen it from the family in 1958. You don't know why it took them so long to finally decided to get it back. It was 2023, for crying out loud.

You now stood in front of the eerie structure. The wood of the house was painted a torn, pale yellow. It reminded you of a mission you had done in 2017 back in Louisiana. That was some freaky shit. The family there were batshit crazy and you were thankful you made it out, forgetting the treasures you were sent to steal—you would rather live, thank you very much.