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wil-o-wispy · 5 days

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The Wife, the Lover, and the Bastard Son - Part 4

Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (he'll be in the next part)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (You are here)

Summary: Your past comes back to haunt you in more ways than you thought possible.

Contents: Major spoilers for RE6, canon typical violence/swearing, mentions of blood being drawn, improper use of a syringe as an improvised weapon, angsty Jake content, angsty plot content, descriptions of blood and violence, dialogue heavy chapter. Reader is referred to as 'Doc' and is the wife of (dead) Albert Wesker and is a former Umbrella scientist.

a/n: Hey peeps. It's me ya boi. I regret nothing for the events that are about to unfold. Thanks for reading :)

w/c: 10.8k+

There is no feasible way out of the cell that you’re confined in. After an indiscernible amount of time being unconscious from the gas released in the specimen room, you woke up here. As far as prisons go, it’s not half bad; a spacious white chamber with a basic cot with white sheets in the middle of the room. In the corner across from it is a security camera with a red light. What makes this room different from your handful of previous kidnapping quarters, are the metal shutters to the right of the entrance to the room that takes up the entirety of the wall. Given the room you were in reminded you of chambers for infected test subjects, there was a likely chance you were being observed through the camera on the other side of the wall.

There’s a second difference as well. You woke up with the crook of your arm wrapped in gauze and a cotton swab. These people had drawn blood from you while you were knocked out. Probably to test if you were compatible for the new virus you’re sure they’re making.

All you can do is wait and see if you’re right.

You aren’t too worried about your involuntary confinement. Not yet anyway. These people evidently want you alive and in one piece. You’re not too sure if Jake would be given the same courtesy though. If he was as skilled as he said he was, you would be willing to bet he was already long gone. If that boy had any sense, he would be trying to find a radio right now to signal for help.

You don’t have to wait too long with your thoughts. A short time after, you hear white noise hum from the speaker and the familiar higher pitched male voice echoes around the chamber.

“Good day, Dr. Wesker.” The voice is the same one you heard from the thin silhouetted man when you first arrived. He speaks in a slow, deliberate tone.

“Hello.” You answer back looking directly into the camera, keeping your tone neutral.

“I understand you had a little -detour- on the way to your room.”

“I did.”

“I would encourage you not to indulge in your wanderlust again, but you strike me as the type to take that as a challenge.”

You narrow your eyes at the camera and purse your lips. You don’t want to give anything away that would confirm the man’s assumption is correct. When you continue to be silent, the man speaks again.

“Forgive me, we haven’t made a proper introduction. I am Youju, one of the head researchers for Neo Umbrella. Welcome to my facility.”

You can’t find it in you to even care who he is. It doesn’t matter in the grand scope of things. As far as you’re concerned, Umbrella (or Neo Umbrella) was still just a terrorist organization that made bioorganic weapons. You don’t care about the specifics of what that means unless it’s relevant to preventing an outbreak.

“Will you just cut to the chase?”

There’s a pause from the speaker. “Pardon?”

You sigh and cross your arms, still looking into the camera. “I’ve done this song and dance multiple times and I have no patience for the dramatics anymore. What do you want?”

Silence from the speaker. You let out an annoyed huff.

“Do you have a new virus you want to test out on me? An old one you revamped? I’ve been proposed with job offers before but I’m letting you know right now-”

“No, no miss. Your purpose here today is much more… personal.”

That can’t be good.

“So I’m here for revenge? You’re going to have to specify. Albert had a lot of enemies, and I couldn’t be bothered to keep up with them.”

“You misunderstand what I mean when I say personal.” You can hear an underlying tone of deviousness in that statement. Youju continues.

“Tell me doctor, how have I gone all these years without knowing Albert Wesker had a son?”

You stand in stunned silence. Wesker? A father? The thought makes you want to laugh in disbelief. The only thing that stops you from doing so is the confidence in Youju’s voice.

What kind of ploy is this?

Is he trying to get you to admit a secret you don’t even have? You spend the next few moments thinking over what the man had just said, when you hear him tap the mic, which results in your ears being assaulted with high pitched feedback and you reflexively covering your ears.

“I’m not a patient man, doctor. Answer me.” Youju’s words are drawn out with a mocking, sing-song voice.

You lower your hands and stare directly into the camera, making a conscious effort to keep your tone even. “We never had any kids.”

Silence falls over the chamber again. Long enough that you think Youju must have left. However, you hear his voice again, but this time you hear a smile in his words.

“… well this is quite an interesting development. I have someone I want to introduce you to. Mrs. Wesker.”

The tone in his voice clearly indicates he doesn’t believe you.

A deep metallic click sounds through the chamber before the metal shutters next to you begin to raise themselves up, groaning their whole journey to the ceiling. As they ascend, the shutters reveal a window to another room. Although surprisingly, there aren’t any Neo Umbrella personnel behind the glass. Instead, the panels reveal an identical chamber to yours, except it’s Jake on the other side of the glass sitting on the bed and leaning on his knees. The bottoms of his pants are covered in dark mud, a part of his sleeve looks scorched, and there’s a sizeable gash on his temple that had scabbed over next to his buzzed ginger hair. Blood that has long since dried had trickled down next to the large diagonal scar on the left side of his face. In other words, he’s much worse for wear than the last time you saw him. Whoever came into the room to investigate the alarm really did a number on him.

You see a discarded bundle of gauze with a slightly bloody cotton ball in Jake’s room. These people took blood from him too.

That grating voice over the loudspeaker interrupts your thoughts.

“Mr. Muller! I hope you’re finding your accommodations acceptable.”

Acceptable was a stretch, but at least your rooms had the bare necessities. You can’t say the same for your past accommodations with other organizations.

Jake shrugs and leans back, taking a look around the room. You hear his voice come from a hidden speaker near the window.

“Not bad, asshole. Feels like I’m shacking up at the Shitz Carlton.”

You would have smiled at that if that nagging sense of familiarity from earlier wasn’t still wracking your brain.

Where have I seen him before?

Youju quips back with that knowing tone over the speaker. “Even when corned in the lion’s den, you still have something witty to bite back with. Just like your father so I’m told.”

Jake’s carefree demeanor grows more rigid; shoulders squared, clenched jaw and sharpened expression. The man’s family is a sensitive subject.

“Where are my manners? Dr. Wesker have you had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Muller?”

It was hard to tell, but you could have sworn you saw Jake perk up at hearing your dreaded last name. You stare at him a moment longer.

“Can’t say I have before today.”

“Really? Are you certain?” The way Youju says that makes it seems like he’s trying to make you doubt an obvious answer to a trivia question. You stare at Jake, and he stares back, unblinking.

You turn back towards the camera.

“I would remember the scar. I haven’t met this man.”

“Interesting. Why don’t you look closer?”

The man from the speaker obviously wants to get some sort of point across to you, so you humor him. Sighing and shifting your weight, you turn to Jake. You look past the grime, the evidence of fights lost, and modern clothes.

You look at his face, his eyes…

You stop breathing.

You thought about what Youju had said before. Albert Wesker had a son.

Your mind races with a cacophony of scrambled thoughts over the next few seconds.

How did these people figure out Wesker had a son before you did? He looks like him. How did he go this long without being discovered? It’s likely Jake’s blood is special like Albert’s, so they’d want a promising candidate for virus injections. Who is his mother?

You don’t know where it comes from in the moment, but all you can picture is a displeased Albert holding a ginger headed baby, with his nice work shirt covered in spit up while another woman takes a picture and laughs.

It starts as a giggle, but the longer you think about this scenario, the more ridiculous the thought becomes and the harder it becomes to keep your shoulders still.

“So tell me doctor, what are your thoughts?” Youju replies smugly, waiting for your response.

You can’t help it. You start laughing like an insane woman. Jake’s existence was the cherry on top of an already stressful situation. Your body is exhausted from the journey here, you’re still processing the emotional whiplash from seeing and destroying the Uroboros sample, you’re mentally and emotionally done with everything that could possibly relate to Wesker and now you find out he has a son that isn’t yours? You just find the whole situation so absurd that you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

It's clear that Youju doesn’t find your reaction amusing. His tone is cold and controlled when he speaks next. “Enlighten me Wesker, what could possibly be so funny?”

When you finally catch your breath, you look at the camera again with tears in your eyes from laughing so hard.

“This… establishment is really scraping the bottom of the barrel for bright and promising imbeciles, aren’t they?”

Silence, then the sound of a throat being cleared.

“Oh really? And why is that?”

Youju’s voice is flat. Controlled. You had struck something sensitive, and you intend to use it to your advantage to get a moment alone with Jake.

“Because this is ridiculous! Albert Wesker? A father- his father? Are we talking about the same Wesker?”

“His blood sample suggests otherwise-”

“And how do you know that exactly?”

Silence.

You let out a deranged cackle.

“I think I understand now. You found this stranger helping me in the middle of your ocean getaway, you thought he looked like Wesker, and your only plausible conclusion was that he has to be my son. So you’re comparing his DNA to mine because Wesker’s genome is impossible to find. Is that it?”

Youju struggles to stay composed under a guise of false confidence.

“Well we… any reputable institution would confirm hypotheses by… conducting their own independent tests and gathering their samples directly from the source.”

You hum and step a little closer to the camera.

“You know, Umbrella used to check their homework before going through the trouble of kidnapping persons of interest. Just goes to show that the copy is always going to be a letdown from the original.” You made sure to look straight into the camera when you say that, and it has the desired effect.

“You…I-I’ll know you’re lying one way or another soon Wesker!” Unlike before, there was no trace of confident humor. Instead, the voice spits out the words with prideful fury.

“Then by all means, do it. Waste everyone’s time. Hell, I’ll even volunteer for another blood sample when it comes back negative.”

It’s silent for a long time until the white noise from the speaker cuts out and all you can hear is the fluorescent lights above you.

You hear a muffled voice on the other side of the glass. “Hey Wesker!” Youju must have switched off the window speaker.

You let out a sharp breath through your nose. You turn to the window. Jake stands there, forearm resting on the glass above his head and observing you like a slide under a microscope. “Like I told you before, just Doc is fine.” You respond, annoyed.

You look up at the camera and see its beady red light still trained on you. You look between the camera and Jake. No use being stealthy. You walk over to the window with a determined look on your face, already in problem solving mode.

“We both know that test is going to come back negative.”

“Uh huh… and?” Jake responds, unimpressed.

“Personnel are going to come back eventually for another sample. Make it count and make it hurt although based on your current state-” You gesture to Jakes muddy and burnt clothes. “-your technique needs some work.”

Jake scowls. “My ‘technique’ is just fine.”

“Then prove me wrong.”

It doesn’t take too long for your assumption to come true. After a long stretch of time that you try to fill by pacing your room, you hear several sets of footsteps outside the room. A moment later, you see two men in lab coats accompanied by one guard armed with an electric baton and one armed with a pistol enter Jake’s room on the other side of the glass.

Jake deals with them in a similar quick and efficient fashion to what you saw before when you first met him, except his moves are much more violent and incensed. Nothing like the cool and confident rescuer you first thought him to be.

The men in lab coats gesture for Jake to roll up his sleeve. Jake complies and one of the men puts a band on his upper arm to cut off blood flow. When the other man goes to do the blood draw, Jake grabs the syringe and plunges it into the man’s eye, causing to scream in pain and stumble back. The other scientist is frozen in fear as the two guards spring into action. The guard with the baton reaches Jake first, but he’s prepared to duck under the guard’s wide swing and he easily kicks the guard’s feet out from under him in one graceful move. As soon as the guard’s body hits the floor, Jake wastes no time grabbing the back of his head and chin and forcing his neck to an unnatural angle, immediately making the guard go limp.

The other guard is yelling something in that unfamiliar language while pointing his gun at Jake, but Jake doesn’t even acknowledge it as he charges at him with full speed. The guard is only able to shoot once, barely missing his shot, before Jake unleashes a flurry of blows, his skill in hand-to-hand combat evident in the way he dodges all the guard’s attempts at defense with ease.

While Jake is busy with the other guard, the remaining scientist finally comes to his senses and begins to run out of the room. But by the time he makes it to the door of Jake’s chamber, Jake has already disarmed and shot the other guard in the head. By the time the scientist opens the door, Jake has already lined his shot up perfectly and shoots the scientist dead in his tracks, blood leaking from the bullet wound on the back of his head.

The sight in the other room is grisly, but nothing you’re not already used to from the lifestyle you’ve lived. Once the last scientist is taken care of, you knock on the window to get Jake’s attention. He turns to you, breathing heavily and ripping off the rubber armband from earlier.

“Grab all their keycards! Can’t hurt to have them just in case.”

Jake nods and grabs the keycards from all the bodies, then exits the room. Shortly after, there’s a ping from your door and it opens to reveal Jake on the other side of it.

“Let me see?” You request, briskly walking outside the room and holding out your hand for the keycards. Jake plops them in your hand, looking at you closely. You ignore it and flip through the keycards, trying to discern security level but failing because the only difference between the two are the colors; red for the scientists and black for the guards. You halve them and give one of each back to Jake, which he pockets. He’s still holding the pistol he got from the guard at his side.

“Guess we’ll find out which have higher clearance when the time comes.”

Jake is still looking at you with that analyzing expression. “So you-” Jake is interrupted by an ear piercing alarm and the room is bathed in a foreboding red light.

“Time to move!” Jake grabs your upper arm before you can protest and runs out a door and down the hallway, half dragging you behind him while you struggle to keep up with his pace. You don’t know where you’re running to and Jake doesn’t appear to know either. You both keep running until you reach a four-way hallway where the alarm isn’t as loud and the lights are normal. Jake pauses, taking a moment before deciding where to run. You take the opportunity to yank your arm back, rubbing away the sting of Jake’s harsh grip.

“Wait, why aren’t there any guards? Or people?” You say, not quite sure where to go. Maybe it’s residual memories from working at Umbrella, but seeing the nearly identical hallways so empty is setting off alarm bells in your head.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Jake replies, irritated, taking a few steps to look down one of the hallways trying to decide where to go while he holds his pistol defensively, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

“There’s no people! You don’t find that weird?”

“We’ve got bigger problems right now!” Jake snaps, looking at you with a cold stare. Not a second later, the ear-piercing alarm cries overhead and the lights flick to red.

“We’re going left.” Jake says, running down the left hallway with you tailing right behind him. As you’re running, you notice the grating on the floor.

You realize it’s like the flooring in the specimen room, and suddenly more details about this place make sense.

There’re no people around because they use the knockout gas as a security measure.

The guards wear gas masks so they don’t lose consciousness during breaches.

The alarms and lights warn employees to get to a safe place or avoid the area.

Unfortunately, you put all of this together in the middle of the hallway when the security doors at both ends light up red, rise up from the floor, and close with loud metallic clicks. You hear loud hissing from below you, and you realize with dreaded clarity that the hallway is starting to fill up with gas.

You quickly scan the hallway and see a door with a red marking on it like the one on the scientist keycard.

“Red door on your right! Move it!” You command, already running to the door, keycard in hand.

You don’t need to tell Jake twice. Jake wastes no time dashing into the suggested room once you scan the card. You follow Jake into the room right on his heels. The second you’re through the threshold of the door, you scan the keycard to close the door and engage the emergency lock, emergency protocols drilled into your head from your time at Umbrella taking over. The door beeps and hisses shut just in time to cut off the gas from invading the room you and Jake just entered. The room appears to be some kind of office with several desks around the room. The alarm on the other side of the door is barely heard in this room. You’re safe. For now.

You take a shaky and labored breath while leaning against the door, trying to get your bearings.

Too close.

Your break is quickly interrupted by an accusatory comment from Jake. “You knew him well, huh?”

You stay silent and finally look at Jake. His expression is a cocktail of anger and frustration, even as he’s trying to catch his breath. You glance at Jake’s hand by his side; he’s gripping his pistol tightly and his face is grim and cold. It doesn’t help that you’re looking at Jake with an exasperated and annoyed look.

“You of all people should know why I don’t freely give out my last name.”

You give Jake a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ look and Jake tightens his grip on his pistol as he lifts it a few inches like he’s thinking about aiming it. A few seconds pass and Jake takes a deep breath as he sheathes the pistol.

“Fair enough. But I have questions.”

You let out a crazed laugh and start to feverishly pace the room, still in disbelief at the sudden appearance of your husband’s bastard child. “I’m sure you do! I’ve sure as hell got some!” Your tone comes off as angry, but in reality you’re frustrated.

“I’m not too happy he’s my dad either lady!”

“That’s not- ugh. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just-” You take a breath and try to relax your shoulders, so you don’t snap at Jake again. “The B.S.A.A. and I have a deal. I tell them everything I know, and I help their scientists deal with bioterrorism. In exchange, I’m supposed to get protection and they keep me in the loop. Simple right? But then-” You stop pacing and gesture to Jake. “-I get kidnapped, again, and I find out my dead husband has a whole ass… grown… child! In their organization! That’s a pretty major development if you ask me!”

You stop pacing the room and plop down in a chair and put your head in your hands, then run your hands through your hair. What else aren’t the B.S.A.A telling you? What isn’t Chris telling you? Did he know about this? He has to. You haven’t done anything to your knowledge to warrant them keeping something this big from you. Did they think you’d not take the news well? Take it out on Jake? Leak the information out of misplaced anger for Albert being with another woman?

“I don’t care what kind of bullshit deal you’ve got with the Bioterrorism Boy Scouts. I’ve got questions and I think considering everything, I deserve some fucking answers.” Jake’s steely look from the chamber is trained directly on you.

“You-” You stop. You’re about to tell him now isn’t the time and that you both need to prioritize finding a radio to call for help and come up with an exit plan, but you don’t. You can’t deny that you want to know more about Jake. He’s rightfully demanding answers about a father he presumably never knew. You know the B.S.A.A hasn’t been forthcoming about new information to you, so they probably haven’t disclosed much to Jake. You also know they won’t be too pleased about you spilling top secret intel about Albert to his son.

“You’re right. He’s your dad, you deserve to know. You didn’t hear this from me, okay? I don’t need more reasons for B.S.A.A.’s finest to dislike me.”

Jake silently looks at you, then nods his head. “Deal.”

You nod back. “Alright. You first.”

Jake leans against the wall, looking at you with a serious expression. “What kind of man was Albert Wesker?”

You look at him, confused. “I’m assuming you already know what kind of man he was.”

“I do. I’ve heard a hell of a lot about my old man, but not from the woman who knew him best. What kind of man was he?”

“An intelligent psychopath with a god complex.” You pause. “Well... the god complex came later. But still.”

“Intelligent? That’s not what I heard.”

“What did you hear then?”

“That he was crazy and he tried to destroy the world.” Jakes voice drips with disdain.

“Crazy and intelligent aren’t mutually exclusive traits. Are you positive that these people didn’t know who you were before they tested your blood?”

Even with everything that had just happened, you still couldn’t wrap your head around why you were brought here. To your knowledge, Neo Umbrella didn’t know Jake existed before an hour ago, let alone know that he was Albert’s son. How they knew he was Albert’s son is still unclear to you since his genome is highly classified information. The man on the speaker said your purpose here was personal but didn’t give any indication that it was related to revenge. What did he mean by that? How does this all connect?

“Hundred percent. If he was like that, why’d you marry him then?” Jake’s tone is accusatory, and a scowl that eerily reminds you of Albert adorns his face.

You’re annoyed with the one-word answer and his tone, but you keep your feelings to yourself. You know Jake has complicated feelings when it comes to his father, and he’s dead. You’re the next best thing when it comes to closure. After a moment you calmly and neutrally respond to Jakes question.

“When I first met him, I thought he was a very different man. Sure, he was stoic, cold and all business at the Umbrella Labs, but with me he was romantic, charismatic, and thoughtful." You feel like Jake’s gaze is piercing into your soul, so you look away and stare at the ground instead. “Three years I thought that. Then the mansion incident happened, and everything changed for the worse.”

“Romantic? Hmph. Yeah sure…”

You frown and let out a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping in the process, and you respond in a tired tone. “Has there ever been anyone in your life that you trusted with your whole being and they ended up being someone you didn’t even recognize?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jake cross his arms and scowl become more prominent. Another sensitive subject. You move on.

“He was unfathomably good at making you believe he was someone else. He did it with me. He did it with his S.T.A.R.S. squad at R.P.D. He even did it to Umbrella. In the end, he was just a power-starved monster.”

“R.P.D? He was a cop too?”

You turn your head back towards Jake in surprise. You would have thought that Albert’s previous jobs were easy pieces of information to get ahold of, but then again, Jake may have not cared enough to know. Jake’s expression is still unreadable apart from his voice dripping with contempt as he asked that question. You keep your answer clinical and to the point. “Yeah. He was a scientific prodigy and worked at Umbrella as a researcher really young. Then one of his projects stalled and he became an Umbrella spy and worked in the U.S. Army and then became the captain of the Rescue Service at the police station. After that: bioterrorist.”

You stop and wait for any follow up questions. When Jake only continues to stare you down, you ask your next question.

“Who knows that he’s your father?”

“Couple of guys in the B.S.A.A. and a handful of government agents. Everyone else who knew is dead. What happened after the Mansion Incident? Between you two? There has to be more to that story.” Jakes expression grows darker and more serious.

The thought crosses your mind that you should lie about how you felt, but you have a feeling that you needed to be open with Jake. He deserves the truth, no matter how unpleasant the answer will be.

“I was devastated. When what was left of his team returned from that mansion, I simply didn't want to believe it. I didn't even know he worked for the R.P.D. before that day, and they’re telling me he led his team to die at a mansion in the mountains with a secret Umbrella lab I didn’t know existed? The whole thing sounded crazy." You stop and choose your next words delicately before continuing.

"You have to understand that I loved him at the time. I was in denial. I was mourning. I didn't know he survived the mansion until the Racoon City incident. He could have let me die in Racoon when everything went to shit but he didn't. Instead, he sent a mercenary after me to rescue me and kept me with him until he was killed."

Jake gives you a long look when you finish, his eyes fixed and unblinking. You can tell he’s digesting your every word as his jaw tenses and his knuckles whiten from the force of his fists clenching with his arms are still crossed.

“… so he saved you?”

His voice is icy, and there’s a dangerous edge to his tone that you’ve never heard before. Each word sounds like it’s taking great effort to force out. “Why?”

A pang of fear goes through you at his change of tone. You hit something sensitive, and you don’t even know what it is, which only makes you more nervous. “I don’t have a good answer for that.” Your voice comes out softer than you intend, but you do a good job of masking how intimidated you are by Jake in the moment. Logically, you know he’s probably not going to fly off the handle and do anything to you, but his eyes and expressions are so similar to Albert’s that it’s instinctively putting you on edge.

Unless Albert told you directly, knowing the inner workings of his mind was a challenging task even for you. You’d asked yourself that question and reflected on a possible answer countless times over the years, and each time you came to a slightly different conclusion. On the occasional day where you really missed your marriage before the Mansion Incident, you thought he may have been fond of you in some way. On days like this, your theories were a bit more realistic. You were a means to an end.

Either way, Jake’s eyes are boring into your soul as he’s waiting for you to answer his question.

“At the time, I thought it was because he loved me. But now-” You pause for a moment, desperately trying to gather your thoughts to present them in a way that won’t upset Jake further. “-I have two theories. Either he saw me as an asset with my virology knowledge and kept me close just in case, or he just saw me as something that was his. He almost always used possessives when he addressed me. My darling, my dear, my love. That kind of thing.”

Jake remains silent and his body language still has that edge to it like a cord dangerously close to snapping. You opt to ask a more neutral question.

“How long have you known about Wesker?”

“A year. So he saw you as an asset? You helped him with his plans?”

“No! Fuck no. He definitely wanted me to, but I refused every single time. I still looked at all the lab results and things the he left laying out to stay up to date on what he was planning, but I never gave him feedback.”

“If you refused, why the hell did he keep you around?” Another accusatory, but valid question. Albert wasn’t exactly the forgiving type if he didn’t get what he wanted.

“I think he thought he could wear me down or change my mind eventually. I work fast. I’m good at seeing patterns and remembering small details. My guess is that he didn’t want to get rid of me if there was the possibility of me being useful.” You catch yourself becoming slightly defensive, so you make a conscious effort to reel your emotions in before you ask Jake your question. “Where’d you grow up?”

“Edonia. If you were so against helping him, then why did you stay, huh?”

You’re starting to feel anger boil up in you.

“I was just happy to have my husband back at first! I tried leaving when I realized what he wanted to do. I really did. But by the time I took off the rose colored glasses, I’d seen too much and I was either locked up or he had someone babysitting me so I couldn’t run off. And Edonia? Really? That’s a long way from the U.S. Is that where your mom’s from?”

“Why do you care, huh?” Jake snaps at you, fire in his eyes and nostrils flaring.

You’re slightly taken aback with Jake’s combative response. “Because if anyone finds out she’s associated with Wesker in any way, she’s going to be in danger and needs protection.”

“Don’t need it. She’s dead.” Jake’s face holds no traces of relaxed cockiness like earlier. His expression has morphed into an explosive combination of wrath and pain. “And you know why? Because daddy dearest wasn’t there to pay for her medical bills. He walked out and didn’t fucking look back, yet she still acted like he was this exceptional man who could do no wrong.”

The atmosphere of the room is thick with tension. Even through Jake is a few feet away still leaning on the desk, you feel small and defenseless sitting in your office chair. You feel like the energy in the room could snap at any moment, so you keep your tone sympathetic, but firm.

“I’m sorry about your mom. But you need to believe me when I tell you that you are lucky he was never in your lives-“

“Lucky? That psychopath sent someone to a city that was tearing itself apart to save you but couldn’t send a damn check to save my mom?”

You’ve been patient throughout this whole exchange, and you were resigned to be Jake’s verbal punching bag. But suggesting Albert would have helped Jake’s mother without consequences? That’s the final straw that inevitably makes you lose your composure.

“Did you grow up feeling loved?” The question is sudden. Blurted without thinking of what could come after.

Jake’s angered expression morphs into confusion. “What?”

You know you’re playing with fire with this line of questioning, but you don’t see any other option that will be as effective. “Did your mother… tell you she loved you, make sure you had your coat before leaving the house? Hug you goodbye? Tell you bedtime stories?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Did she?” You don’t back down. You need to make him understand.

“Yeah! She did!”

You nodded. “Good! You wouldn’t have gotten that with Albert. Far from it!”

“Oh yeah? And why do you think that Doc?”

“Is that your question?”

“Answer it.” Jake spits, anger boiling to the surface.

“Do you know anything about Project W?”

You take the silence as a no and continue.

“Albert was a product of one of Oswald Spencer’s projects, founder of Umbrella, headed by Dr. William Wesker. It was a eugenics-based plan to create a race of more intelligent, more fit more whatever superhumans. Your father was essentially raised in a lab.”

You pause to make sure Jake is following your words and keep going.

“There were hundreds of kids in this program. When they were adults, Spencer weeded out a group of thirteen including your father. All of them were given the progenitor virus whether willingly or unknowingly, and only Albert and another woman I’ve never met survived. Albert was the only one who gained superhuman abilities.”

Jake is silent for a moment, then responds, “When you say willingly or unknowingly-”

“Some of these kids didn’t know they were in the program.”

Silence.

“That is where your father came from. You want to know what kind of man he was? He was opportunistic and manipulative. I have no doubt that he would have used you as a guinea pig just like he was. He would have framed it in a way that made it look like he was doing what was best for you too. If he had stayed in your life, you would have been living in a lab waiting for him to shove a needle in your vein as a bonding activity.”

More silence. Jake’s expression is unreadable, but he doesn’t appear angry like before. His eyebrows are scrunched together and he looks at the floor, deep in thought.

“Jake?” You say, gently. He doesn’t respond.

“Jake. Please look at me.” You try again a little louder, and he turns his head to look at you, Albert’s - Jake’s - pale blue eyes look more understanding.

“Do you understand everything I just told you?”

“Yeah. I just-” Jake pauses. “I don’t know what I was expecting to hear, but it wasn’t that.”

You nod and give him a sympathetic look. “I know it doesn’t make it better, but I don’t think he knew you existed. He would have seen you as an asset and tried to find you otherwise.”

Jake doesn’t say anything, but he nods his head to let you know he heard you.

“Loving him came at a price. Be thankful for the anonymity you have.”

“What was your price?”

Everything.

“My future.” Jake looks at you with an eyebrow raised, so you continue. “Because of the relationship I had with him, it’s impossible to live a normal life. I’ve tried, but there will always be people trying to find me to recruit me or kill me because of that.” You say this off-handedly. You’ve become used to this kind of life to the point where happenings like this feel routine.

You and Jake sit in silence. Jake’s presence doesn’t emit that aura of anger anymore.

“That’s not fair to you.”

You give Jake a wry smile.

“It’s not fair that he’s your father. We can’t change the past. But we can try to make the future a bit less shitty.” You quip.

Jake chuckles a little at that comment, and his smirk finally returns.

“You’re not-” Jake stops, and you wait for him to finish, “-how I expected you to be.”

“…thanks?” You reply, not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Jake snorts at your comment. “And uh… sorry I got heated for a minute there.”

You give Jake a dismissive wave. “Hey, it’s not the first time I’ve gotten my ass chewed out because of Wesker, and it’s not going to be the last. At least yours was warranted. You love your mom. I can’t fault you for that.”

“Appreciate it.” Jake replies, his smirk disappearing after a moment.

“I’ve got one more… personal question.” Jake looks at you, a dark intensity to his gaze.

You nod. ”Go for it. You deserve to know.”

“Do you have any children?” After a long, silent pause, Jake’s eyes lose their intensity and he gives you a small, sympathetic look.

You give Jake a sad smile. “No. No we… everything I said before about bonding activities? That’s not anecdotal. Just conjecture. Just-“ You gesture to Jake. “You.”

That I know of.

You clear your throat. “How old are you, by the way? I’m just curious-”

“You don’t need to finish that, I get it. Twenty.”

“You look older.”

“Mercenary work and a civil war will do that to ya.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.”

You shift in your seat from the awkward turn of events and say your thoughts out loud. “Let’s see…” You do the math in your head. “That would’ve been ’92. I met him in ’95. We got married in ’97...”

“And everything with Umbrella went to shit in ’98.” Jake finishes.

You feel the side of your mouth curl into a half smile. “You’ve done your homework.”

The alarm outside the room suddenly stops, and you hear a hissing noise from the hallway outside. You look to the door, then back at Jake. “I’ll tell you more later. We gotta get moving.”

You stand up from your chair and check the panel on the door. Still red. It’s going to take a minute or two for the gas to filter out of the hallway. You look over your shoulder at Jake.

“Did you end up finding that sample by the way? Or a way to contact the Tokyo base?”

Jake frowns and checks his pistol. “No, but I have a better idea of where those things could be.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Better than nothing, I guess. Any theories?”

Jake shrugs. “Half this place used to be a military base and the other half an Umbrella lab that’s had some renovations. The old lab holds the old samples-”

“So the newer part of the lab should have the new samples and the military part should have a radio?”

Jake smirks and points at you. “If everything goes right, we’ll be outta here by sunset.”

The office door panel beeps and lights up green. You smile and slide the red card and the door swooshes open. You look back to Jake. “I like the sound of that. Let’s go.”

As you both walk back out into the hallway, you notice it’s still eerily empty. However, the security doors are still engaged at both ends of the hallway. You and Jake walk over to the door you were heading through before the lockdown. You scan the red keycard and it declines. You huff and scan the black keycard, and you hear the lock disengage and the security doors split open and return their respectful halves to the floor and ceiling. You look at the black keycard with a stern look as Jake walks though.

“Only guards can open security doors? That sounds like a shitshow waiting to happen.”

“You an expert on security now too? C’mon we’ve got a schedule to-”

Jake is cut off by a loud buzzer, followed by the security doors slamming shut so you and Jake are on opposite sides. Jake hurries up to the doors and looks at you through one of the small windows in the middle.

“What the hell? Try the card again maybe it’s a timer thing.”

You scan the black card again, but it returns an error message. You shake your head in annoyance, but then it turns into concern when you hear shouting and footsteps from the direction of the observation rooms you were held in.

“It’s giving me an error message. Try yours on that side!” You shout at Jake through the door.

You see Jake’s face as he scans the panel on his side but based on how Jake grits his teeth in frustration he’s probably not having any better luck than you. You hear shouting and footsteps growing louder. Jake notices and tries to pry open the security doors with his hands. You scan the red card again, but it also returns an error message.

“Shit! Jake, they know which cards we took and deactivated them. They’re no good!”

You throw down the cards and take a few steps back to get a better look at the hallway to find an alternate route or some structural weakness in the door arch, but you notice nothing. The sounds of guards shouting and running are getting even closer. Your only chance of getting out of here is Jake. He can’t be here when you’re ultimately discovered.

You hurry back up to one of the windows on the security door to shout at Jake. “You need to go, now!”

Jake ignores you and keeps looking for purchase on the door, but it’s too smooth to get a decent grip to pull it open.

“Jake!” You scold.

Jake pauses to look at you, scowling.

“They obviously want me alive I’ll be fine. You find that sample and radio for help. I’ll stall for as long as I can.”

Jake’s scowl on his face deepens as he tries to open the mechanical door again, but his efforts are fruitless. He finally slams a hand on the door and lets out an annoyed huff and looks back at you through the window.

“You’re sure you’ll be fine on your own?”

More yelling and bangs echo down the hall.

“More than likely, yes. Just be quick about it. I’d rather not be a lab rat if I can help it.”

Jake takes one more analyzing look at the door and gives you a curt nod, clearly not happy with the new set of circumstances.

“Don’t say anything that’ll piss em’ off more.”

“No promises, now go!”

You turn around at the sound of the opposite security door opening, and you hear Jake’s footsteps grow further and further before they disappear and are replaced with the stomping of a battalion of gas masked soldiers. A group of eight quickly block off your only exit and train their semi-automatic TMP’s on you. Seeing as you’re heavily outnumbered, you put your hands up in surrender.

As you do, a wiry man a little taller than you walks leisurely through the intimidating crowd of masked faces. He wears a suit under a pristine white lab coat and looks at you with cold eyes through a pair of square glasses.

“Where is Muller, Doctor?”

You recognize the lilting voice immediately. This is Youju. Your immediate impression is that he’s much too young to be the director of this facility. But then again, Umbrella is chock full of young prodigies. Time to buy Jake some time.

“I could care less about where he went. As I told you before, he’s not my son.”

“I see.” Youju walks a few steps past the line of guards towards you and looks at the mechanical door behind you, skeptical.

“Why stop here Dr. Wesker? Why this door?”

“Because your security system needs some work. It closed and it can’t be opened.” You reply, curtly.

“Then why didn’t you run?”

“I’ve been in enough scrapes to know when I’ve been backed into a corner.” It’s not a lie. Even though your main goal is to distract these people, you know when you’re beat. Especially when you have an overwhelming handful of guns trained on you.

Youju frowns. “You still haven’t answered my question. Where. Is. Muller?”

“I. Don’t. Know. We went our separate ways when it became convenient.” You reply condescendingly, already tired of answering Youju’s questions.

Youju narrows his eyes at you, calculating his response. “Very well then. Since you’re so keen on seeing what amenities this facility has to offer, allow me to give you a guided tour.”

“I’d rather go back to my room. I’ve had enough cardio for today.”

Youju waves his hand and the guards put their guns down, save for one who quickly positions himself behind you with his gun still aimed at your back. Youju gives you a chilling smile. “I must insist, Doctor.”

As Youju walks back through the crowd of guards, he announces one more command to the crowd of guards.

“Find the other one. Alive. Maim him if you must, but ensure he is brought to me in one piece.”

Not ten minutes later, Youju and his guard lead you deeper into the facility, seemingly with one destination in mind for your guided tour. Youju leads the way in front of you, while the soldier trails behind never once lowering his weapon. He seems to be leading you into the newly renovated parts of the lab. There are no windows into the many rooms you pass so you have no inkling of what could be going on behind closed doors, but Youju ignores all of them in favor of the main lab at the center of the facility.

He scans a white key card and a large lock disengages from the mechanism in the middle of the door, spinning until it’s completely free before the doors finally open to reveal another set of sliding doors. Youju scans the card again and enters with you and the soldier right behind him.

It's a room with several scientists checking over miscellaneous machines and monitors, as well as fridges with multiple different colored chemical substances. All of them periodically glance over their respective stations and into the observation chamber below through the window that takes up the entire expanse of the wall opposite the door. A handful of soldiers line the wall in the back of the room. Youju saunters in and stands by a monitor that flickers to show a different part of the facility every fifteen seconds or so. A microphone stands idly next to it. Youju trains his dark eyes on you, a barely noticeable sly smile on his face.

“Welcome to the inner sanctum, Doctor. I would like your thoughts on my latest and greatest project.”

You cross your arms defiantly and shift your weight with a bored expression on your face. “As I said before, I have no interest in any job you have to offer me.”

“I didn’t offer you employment. I only ask that you take a cursory look. I assure you, he will be of great interest to you.” Youju speaks in that same, know-it-all tone from when you were stuck in your quarters. Like he wants you to figure out his point.

Better yet, who’s ‘he?’

You roll your eyes and humor him.

You look over the consoles and into the chamber below. There are illuminated chambers filled with substances you don’t recognize and over a dozen machines tracking something you can’t discern from this distance. The cylindrical tank in the middle of the room is the focal point of the observation chamber. It glows with a foreboding orange light, illuminating the space in between itself and you. At first, you can’t tell what the tank holds with the light emanating from it shining in your eyes. When your eyes adjust to the light, one by one you notice features of the creature inside; you see the outline of a man. Then notice one of its arms is much longer and darker than the other. The scar tissue across its chest. Then, most devastatingly, disheveled, slicked back blonde hair.

Your heart drops and your annoyed expression shifts into something much more terrified.

“Where… that’s not…”

But it was. Behind the glass in the chamber below was the body of a mutated Albert Wesker floating in a liquid filled chamber. His chest and legs are overtaken by burnt scar tissue, but otherwise look about the same as the last time you saw him; although you don’t like to think about that series of events.

The bomber. The volcano. The helicopter that he almost pulled down into the lava with him. Any one of those scenarios could have easily ended with your death, the world ending or Uroboros in your arm. Not that the three were that different regarding the death part.

The last time you saw Wesker, he had mutated into the monster he had become on the inside. His snake eyes glowed red, black Uroboros burst from beneath his skin around his eyes, worms of Uroboros completely overtook his chest and arms, which he could stretch to great lengths, and he was altogether consumed by rage. Rage against Chris for besting him once again, rage against himself for underestimating him, and you were certain rage against you for betraying him.

You stare blankly into the chamber as the reality of the situation sets in: Youju went to great lengths to find Albert. You didn’t know how he could have found him after so long, but you knew this man had to mine through volcanic rock at best and perform an underwater excavation of a volcano at worst to exhume him. Whatever he has planned, it can only spell doom for whatever unfortunate soul falls in Albert’s wake. Your body can’t bring itself to move, so you stand frozen by the console of the observation room overlooking the chamber Albert is in.

“The union of Wesker and Uroboros is truly a remarkable miracle of nature,” Youju says smugly, relishing in your shock.

All you can do in the moment is gape at your husband in horror.

“There’s nothing natural about this.” Your voice comes out small. Rattled. Nothing like how you planned when you stepped into this room.

“Natural? That’s a matter of perspective, Doctor. We are seeing evolution in real time.” Youju is enjoying your torment, but there is a pit forming in your stomach that is screaming for you to talk sense into him. You know in your bones that this is a bad idea, but you can’t articulate it into words that will break through to the Director. You knew men like him. He won’t listen until it’s too late, but you try anyway.

“Whatever you’re planning is not worth the consequences you’re going to reap from playing God.” You still stare at Wesker’s peaceful, mutated face.

“I assure you it will be. Your husband is an incredible case study. He was medically dead when we found him, but you know as well as I do that the dead don’t tend to stay that way for long in our profession. Uroboros preserved his brain and nervous system better than any modern medical instrument you or I could have hoped to have at our disposal.” Youju explains with pride.

“Weapon, DNA, or emotional blackmail?” You reply cooly, still staring at Wesker in the chamber below.

“Whichever has the highest bidder. Although I think the value of a subject like him transcends material wealth, so I’ll hold off on an auction for now. I have more pressing plans first.”

You break your gaze from Wesker’s body in the chamber and look at Youju with a cautious expression, curious as to what he means.

“We know his brain is showing activity, but he hasn’t woken up you see. All the regular avenues for breaking comatose states have been exhausted.”

Youju turns to the chamber and puts his hand on the window thoughtfully as he speaks.

“Sure, we could harvest his DNA and easily make our investment in excavating him a drop in the bucket. As you’ve said, his DNA is one in a trillion. But it’s not just his DNA that makes him unique, it’s his mind as well. He was- is- the greatest mind manufactured by man. By Oswald Spencer himself. What I would give to speak with him! To know his thoughts on my research. To continue where Spencer was forced to stop.”

The Director looks away from Wesker and back to you, with a giddy look you know all too well. It’s a dissecting look of a scientist attempting to peel away the mystery of an unsolved problem.

“But then one of my researchers had an interesting hypothesis. This is not a regular subject so normal avenues are more than likely going to prove fruitless. Perhaps Wesker needs a familiar face as an extra incentive to chat with us. Someone who knew him much more personally than anyone else. Someone like you. We’ve already tried recordings of your voice, and they’ve yielded positive results, but not the one’s we’re looking for.”

“The saying ‘you should never meet your heroes,’ definitely applies in this case. You need to quit while you’re ahead. You’re inviting nothing but trouble by indulging this fantasy.” You warn, unable to wipe the look of barely contained terror on your face.

Youju tilts his head and gives you a mocking pout.

“Awww… what’s wrong Dr. Wesker? I thought this would be a happy reunion for you. After all, you survived him. He respected your intellect. It’s not every day that a genius offers his lover a place beside him in a new world. And don’t deny it. I’ve seen the footage of him offering you Uroboros on multiple occasions. I’m not a betting man, but I’d say those weren’t the only times he tried to convince you.”

“Director, you need to stop-”

“Not until I get what I want.” Youju’s gaze turns cold and he flips a switch on the console in front of you both. A red light above it switches to green. The guard behind you raises his gun to your head. Youju turns his face towards the microphone but keeps his eyes on you.

“Albert Wesker, you have a visitor. A personal visitor. Go ahead and say hello my dear.”

You avoid looking into the chamber and keep your mouth shut while staring down Youju. You would rather die than awaken that monster.

“Your wife is here to see you Dr. Wesker. Mrs. Doctor Wesker, if you know what’s good for you, please speak into the microphone.” The tone the Director uses reminds you of a car salesman; sleazy and said with a gritted smile. Attempting to get you to bend to his will no matter the cost if it gets you to sign the metaphorical dotted line.

When you keep your mouth shut, Youju motions to the guard behind you and you feel the cold steel of the muzzle of the gun on the back of your head. Your breath becomes unsteady, but you stay silent. He needs you. He wouldn’t kill you so quickly when he needs you. You’re sure of it.

“You know I’m not a patient man dear. Speak, or I will make you.” Youju spits out the warning, his patience already wearing thin.

You clench your jaw and stay silent. You fully intend to stay quiet, even though the urge to call Youju a dumb motherfucker is strong. You see a flicker on one of the cameras on Youju’s monitor. A figure. You weren’t going to pay it any mind, but even out of the corner of your eye you recognize the large scar on the side of Jake’s face.

Youju lets out an annoyed huff at your continued silence, currently unaware of Jake’s presence. “I wanted to avoid making this messy, but it seems you’ve left me with no other option.”

Youju turns around and starts to bend down towards a drawer below the monitor. You panic. Jake is your only hope in getting the B.S.A.A. here. You can’t let his stealth go to waste.

“Albert!” You spit out the name without thinking. You already feel sick to your stomach at your choice of action, but it has its intended effect immediately. Youju snaps his attention away from the monitor’s direction and back to you, then back to the chamber, then to a monitor off to the side that you now realize is displaying brainwave activity. His brainwave activity. You hadn’t noticed it before because the brainwaves were barely perceptible, only small mole hills on a nearly straight line. Now, like a rising tide, the red wave on the monitor grows in intensity along with your heartbeat.

Youju stares at the monitor with you in awe, then turns his attention to the chamber while speaking to you. “Go on. Tell him to wake up.”

“Albert dear?” You pause to take a shallow breath of air. The red wave rises higher on the monitor. “I need you to wake up.”

The more the red wave rises, the more animated the other scientists in the room become. Youju most of all. Everyone buzzes with excitement over their machines and data displaying on the screens, but all you can do is stare at Wesker in the chamber with a lump in your throat.

You have an idea on how to get the upper hand. It’s stupid, suicidal, and against everything your brain is telling you not to do, but if it works it’s an almost guaranteed way for these people to lock you in your room again until the B.S.A.A. can get here with proper reinforcements.

“Albert help me they have a gun to my head!”

Almost immediately, beeping sounds emanate from each and every machine in the room. One by one, every piece of machinery has warning lights on their displays and nervous chattering erupts from the scientists. The red wave on the brainwave monitor devolves into jittery valleys and peaks. You see Wesker in his water chamber twitching, and his peaceful face morph into an angered scowl that you know all too well.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Youju scolds as he switches off the microphone. He grabs your shoulder in a tight grip and walks you back closer to the door away from the window seemingly the only one not concerned with the sudden uptick in activity on the monitors and more peeved at your little stunt.

“That’s enough from you for now Doctor.” He turns his attention to the guard behind you. “Take her back to-”

Youju’s command is interrupted by the sound of glass cracking, a rush of water and metal screeching in the chamber below. Youju’s eyes grow wide and he immediately rushes back over to the window. He turns his head to say something, but before he’s able to, a pipe breaks through the glass of the observation chamber and into Youju’s skull with so much force that blood splatters on you from across the room and you stumble to the floor in your shock.

All hell breaks loose. Some scientists scream, others duck and cover, a handful try and fail to open the door to the hallway, the soldier leaves your side and open fires on Wesker in the chamber along with the other ones in the room.

You can’t seem to escape from the bloodshed. No matter where you turn, more blood splashes across your clothes but you manage to keep your escape in mind: grab Youju’s white keycard to get out of the room. You do your best to block out the grisly sight of Youju’s head as you army crawl across the floor. The white keycard, now stained crimson in some places, hangs precariously from his belt. A black and blonde blur dives into the room from the chamber and the screams grow louder and more frightened. You grab the keycard and you crawl behind a large cabinet that got overturned in the chaos in the corner of the room and make yourself as small as possible by hugging your knees to your chest. You clutch the keycard for dear life.

Meanwhile, in the background, you hear Wesker spewing insults as he tears through the room.

“Ignorant cretins! Worthless, self-righteous chaff! Inferior good for nothing fools!”

Something in Wesker’s voice puts you on edge, and it has nothing to do with the fact he’s seething with rage or leaving a trail of blood and viscera and broken machinery in his wake. You can’t quite describe it, other than that it sounds wrong. The voice is Wesker’s, but the tone and intonation are just… off. Your Wesker spoke in a much sharper and eloquent manner. This voice is direct and garbled in some places.

In the moment, you don’t know which voice you’d prefer. You don’t have time to think on it when you feel a presence behind you. It’s only now that you realize the screams and cries of pain have gone silent. Your blood runs cold when you hear a familiar, yet unfamiliar voice in your ear that makes the hairs on your neck stand up.

“My dear? Oh, how I’ve missed you my sweet…”

You freeze. His tone is uncannily gentle. He’s so close, you can feel Wesker’s breath on your ear and neck. Everything in your body is screaming at you to run, but it’s like Wesker’s words have you under a paralytic spell.

“How dare they touch what’s not theirs…”

A wet, slimy and black tendril slowly makes its way into the corner of your vision and gingerly tucks a flyaway hair behind your ear. You can’t bring yourself to move and you heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest it's beating so fast.

You sense Wesker move his head closer to yours until you can feel the damp heat of him over your shoulder. Glass breaks on the other side of the room and he whips his head towards the sound. There’s one last scientist left. She’s trying to climb into the observation chamber, but she stepped on a piece of glass and now she’s gaping at Wesker in fear.

Wesker attacks her with the bloodlust of a wild animal, plunging his Uroboros arm into her chest and not stopping his assault until it reveals itself again when it pokes out through her mouth. She doesn’t even have a chance to scream. Only gurgle sounds of pain.

The grisly sight finally breaks the spell, and you bolt to the sliding doors and run the second the door registers Youju’s keycard.

You don’t stop when you hear Albert calling your name behind you.

You don’t stop when you see other guards and scientists coming out into the hallway to observe what caused such deafening, monstrous noises.

You don’t stop when you hear more screaming and gunfire erupting behind you.

You have no destination in mind when the hallways become unrecognizable.

The only thing consuming your thoughts is the fact that your psychopathic husband is alive, and that you’ve doomed the world because you destroyed the only Uroboros sample in existence to stop him in a misguided attempt to save it.

a/n 2: How's that for angst? More juiciness in the next part :)

If you've made it this far THANK YOU and sorry for this part being long I thought it would ruin the flow to split it up into two parts.

Tag List: @killerwendigo

#resident evil fanfiction #chris redfield x reader #but not in this part (again) because MORE PLOT #no beta we die like men #albert wesker #no use of y/n #angst #chris redfield #jake muller #resident evil #resident evil 6 #resident evil 6 spoilers #The Wife the Lover and the Bastard Son #resident evil 5

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aonungsmate · 1 year

Text

Save your tears for me

Neteyam x Omatikaya!Reader [Word count: 0.7k]

an idea struck when this song randomly played 🫦 Read, listen and find out! Also heavily apologizing in advance bc well, it's me writing wygd

Warnings: spoilers, mentions of death, implied smut, characters are aged up!

"Remember, you only cry for when you are glad okay?"

You remember Neteyam's words as you first watched the eclipse with him. The pink hues falling around the surroundings, his arms gently wrapping around your figure as you cried at him asking to be his mate.

And so you did.

You cried for when the two of you performed tsaheylu with each other, your braids coming together as one, sharing countless kisses that night in his embrace, under the watch of the ever darkening skies and the brightest stars.

The two of you were alone, and alone you were.

"But this is our home! I cannot ask this of her, dad!" Neteyam shook his head at his father's words, licking his lips in frustration. His youngest sister was tearing up outside the tent, in the comfort of Kiri's arms around her, both of them mourning over the fact that they were leaving the forest to hide.

"We've got no choice, yeah? Believe me son, I have thought of everything," Jake sighed, followed by a hard grip on his son's shoulders, "You gotta bear with me Neteyam, it's either we leave her here, or she comes with us."

And so you did.

You would do anything for Neteyam, so you bid farewell to the home that you've known since birth. Your mate was more than anything in the world to you. He was your light. You cannot imagine life without him, so you decided that it was this, or the most sorrowful life without your mate to wrap his arms around you.

You did your best, eventually adjusting to your new life, befriending the chief's daughter whom you caught casting a pining look on Lo'ak whenever his eyes would trail somewhere else. You would giggle and nudge your friend, followed by a chuckle and an eye roll from Kiri. Then Neteyam would snicker with you, the back of his hand caressing your cheeks that never failed to make you feel putty on the ground.

"Yawne, you make me feel so happy" He groaned as your whimpers reached his ears, your tail softly thumping on the ground as he pressed kisses after kisses on your neck, your arms wrapped around his back, trying so hard to ground yourself, afraid that you would fall deeper than you have.

You sang his name like the people would to Eywa's name. You feel as if the stars have decided to reside in your stomach at how good you felt as he moved his hips against yours, feeling him inside you, feeling so much more than you can handle. You gasped, arching your back when he rutted harder, pouring out his feelings in one go, a breathy gasp of your name coming out from his lips.

"Ne-Neteyam—!" You cried, tears beginning to flow at how much you loved your mate, the marui's flooring dragging across your back, the overstimulation taking over your mind as he pressed gentle kisses on your forehead, the back of his hand wiping your tears away, a soft smile on his face that mirrored yours.

"Sounds like you were more than glad, yawntu," he chuckled, making you swat his arm in annoyance.

Oh how you wished things would always be like this.

"Why, Eywa? Why?!"

You were confused. Terrified. Lost. The orange skies reflected off your beloved's eyes as you begged, "Neteyam don't do this to me, please !"

"Oh, my son! No, great mother! NO!"

"I-I want to go home"

You couldn't describe what you were feeling. What you were seeing. And like the most feeble vine in the forest, the string of ache and longing snapped inside of you.

Today the two of you broke your promises to each other. Promises of the future, no longer would you be held by him. No longer will you be spending the majority of the time gawking at his navy blue skin, counting the stars embedded on his back.

"Remember, you only cry for when you are glad okay?"

He mumbled, reminding you of your promise as you pressed the most gentle kiss on his hand as he cradled your face, wet from all the tears you have shed.

Like him, you don't know where you would go after this. Was it true that going to the great mother was like going home?

For some reason, Neteyam thought of the opposite.

After all, home was when he was with you, and home was him.

#✯｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ .⁠✧ my works ｡⁠*⁠♡#neteyam #atwow x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #jake sully #no beta we flail like neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam fic #neteyam imagine #neteyam angst #atwow spoilers #this is angst im sorry #Spotify #neteyam smut #no beta we die like neteyam

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hiramaris · 8 months

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Dusk Fragments #1

Summary: A night of drinking, a group of friends, and two people returning to town. What could go wrong? Pairings: Jessy x Gender Neutral MC

Note: Had this on my mind for quite a while. This one-shot follows Dusk til Dawn. The timeline isn't clear here.

“I don’t think drinking and partying is such a good idea right now.” Cleo mused against her drink, the condensation on her glass forming tiny beads. She eyed the swirling liquid thoughtfully, her expression pensive. Despite her verbal disagreement, she downed her margarita in one go, barely wincing at the tangy taste.

Dan scoffed at that, knowing fully well where this conversation was going. “It’s been months. No one died. What better way to celebrate than being wasted?”

Lilly, seated next to Cleo, leaned forward, her gaze serious. “Hannah and Richy are still under court-ordered psychiatric evaluation and treatment,” Lilly emphasizes as if everyone has forgotten that fact. “Y/n and Jake are nowhere to be seen. So, I don't think these counts for a celebration.”

Jessy froze at the mention of your name, her hand pausing in mid-air as she played with her Mimosa.

For months, she had tried not to let your name linger in her mind for longer than necessary. It still hurts to think about you. Despite the fact that Agent Hartmann– Charlotte, Jessy corrected herself, already explained everything, it did nothing to quell the pain she was feeling.

Because why couldn’t you just tell them all those things yourself? Why couldn’t you just come back?

“But did they die?”

“Dan!” Cleo admonishes him.

“What?” He shrugged as he plucked a chilled martini glass from the shelf. “I’m just saying,” he continued as he went back to face them and to prepare Lilly’s drink. “Out of all the possible worst-case scenarios, we managed to get the best one. I’m not saying y’all need to trash out and get wasted, but I don’t think Y/n did all this for us to just sulk in our homes forever. We deserve this after all the hell each of us went through.”

“That’s true,” Phil popped out beside him, placing another Mimosa in front of Jessy despite the redhead's protest. “I never thought I’d get out of that stinky place they called prison after a certain someone” he eyed Dan accusingly, a smug smirk on his face “testified against me. So, drink up! Celebrations are in order!”

“For the love of— I already said sorry!” Dan yells at Phil’s retreating form, his voice drowning from the music reverberating around the Aurora bar.

“Sorry won’t cut it, Pal! You still have 6 months left of voluntary work before you get your wage!” Phil shouted back in a sing-song voice before disappearing into the stockroom.

“He won’t ever live it down, y’know?” Jessy allows herself to smirk at Dan’s guilty face. The man got an earful from her when she learned about what he did. If she were the same person as before, she would have never forgiven him but she’s a changed person now. At least that’s what she likes to think. Dan means well despite his impulsivity.

“I know,” Dan grumbled as he placed Lilly’s cosmopolitan in front of her.

The blonde eagerly sips her drink, humming in satisfaction, her body slightly swaying to the music. “Fuck it, I guess we do deserve to lose out a little.” Lilly perks up when ‘Streets’ begins blasting from the bar's speakers. The lights turned a deep hue of red as if to accentuate the mood of the song. “Oh my god! I love Doja Cat! Come, Cleo. Let’s dance!”

Cleo had no choice but to finish off her drinks before allowing the youngest Donfort to drag her to the nearest dance floor.

“She’s getting drunk,” Thomas commented quietly as he observed them.

“Oh, Lilly? Let her.” Dan leans a bit on the counter. “What about you, Tommy? What can I get for you? You’ve been awfully quiet since you came here.”

“I don’t think it’s such a great idea. Someone needs to be sober around here.”

Dan chuckles at that. “Still a wimp,” he teased. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan to drink tonight. Not until Y/n comes back to keep their promise and buy me a drink. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Fine.” Thomas sighed. “After what happened I guess I need a hard drink. Give me some Negroni.”

“Right away, sir.”

Jessy waited for Dan to get away from earshot to get some vermouth from the stock room before addressing Thomas. “Have she talked to you, yet?”

Thomas pursed his lips, his gaze shifting to the swirling liquid in Jessy’s glass. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding, his voice tinged with a sense of longing.

“Not since… that day.” He went quiet for a moment before speaking again. “I miss her, a lot.” He admitted. “But I’m trying to understand her. What happened was shitty. I don’t think 6 months of treatment would suffice to get over a trauma.”

“Any news about their development?”

Thomas sighed, his gaze distant as he delved into the subject. “Well… she’s starting to at least connect with her family. Lilly says it’s just about trivial matter and Hannah seems to be avoiding the topic being discussed just yet. About Richy…” he trailed off. “he’s doing okay, I guess. I talked to him a little while ago and he said he was truly sorry about what happened.”

“Do you… forgive him?” Jessy questions tentatively, her gaze fixed on Thomas, searching for his thoughts on the matter.

Thomas swallowed, fists curling into a fist. “I do. He’s my friend.” He met her eyes, his own ones going mist. “It’s just quite difficult to forget what he had done.”

“I know…” Jessy murmured, her tone reflective, finally downing her first mimosa. The contrasting flavors of bitterness, sweetness, and tanginess played against her tongue, much like the conflicting emotions she was feeling. “Richy doesn’t want to talk to us. I tried to… y’know but he pushed me away.”

“He was afraid. He doesn’t trust himself around you girls.”

“Oh,” was all that Jessy could say.

Maybe you and Richy have a lot more in common than she expected.

Like making decisions for everyone instead of asking them directly. She doesn’t get why both of you chose to keep everything to yourselves.

“Y/n,” Thomas suddenly says. “Do you still think of them?”

“Every day,” she found herself whispering. “I don’t think I had ever stopped.”

“Wow, I just went away for a minute or two and everything suddenly got sentimental.” Dan’s voice joined the conversation. He raised an eyebrow at the two as he began to mix Thomas’ drinks.

“It’s nothing!” Jessy tried to laugh, shoving her empty glass towards Dan. “I want another Mimosa. I’ll be back. I just need to go to the bathroom for a sec.”

“Hey! You still have a full glass of Mimosa here!” Dan calls back to her, but Jessy continues to her destination, brushing through sweaty bodies. She really needs to pee.

More importantly…

She also needs to cry.

Damn it. This is what she’s talking about. Just give her a couple of seconds to think of you and then no more than later her eyes turn into a waterwork.

“Jessy?” Well, that’s a voice that sounds familiar.

She whirls on the spot, and she has little time to even out her voice to mask her surprise. “Alica?”

Luckily, she managed to do it.

Because never in those three years, she has expected to see Alica Roth in the arms of her ex-boyfriend, Norman White.

It took all self-control for Jessy not to give any sort of reaction. What she told you was true. She never made an effort to know whom her ex had cheated her with due to fear of actually knowing who that person might be.

And just her luck, it seemed Alica was the person Norman fucked while being in a relationship with her.

“Oh, hi!” She put on a tight-lipped smile at the two. “I didn’t know that you two…” she tried to laugh. “How long?” She just wanted to know if her theory was true.

Norman has the audacity to look so smug about it, pulling the girl closer to him by the hip as if to rub salt in her wounds. Not that there’s any wound to begin with.

“Two years,” he answers with his typical boyish grin that Jessy used to swoon at. Well, not anymore.

And two years? He was still dating Jessy at that time!

This piece of crap really did cheat on her with Alica, and they even have the decency to flaunt it right on her face. Alica is no better; she knew Jessy was in a relationship with him and yet she allowed Norman to pursue her.

“I heard about what happened. I’m really sorry about Hannah and Richy.” Alica mentions, and Jessy doesn’t know if the girl is even genuine about it. “It must have been stressful for you guys.”

“It was.”

Norman straightened out, his arms falling from his side. “Well, you certainly didn’t look stressed at all,” he eyes her up and down unabashedly. “I mean don’t get me wrong. I know you are but what I was trying to say was you look as dashing as ever.” He finished his babbling with a grin.

Alica raised an eyebrow at his comment before turning her attention back to Jessy with the most faux smile she had ever seen in her life.

“He’s such a sweet guy, right? Always thoughtful with girls even if he already has a girlfriend.”

If she wasn’t sure before, Jessy is sure as hell that’s definitely sarcastic now.

“Oh, I know.” Jessy’s smile was just as fake.

“Of course,” as oblivious as ever, Norman beamed. “I even chatted that Y/n when Lilly posted about that video. Because y’know, I don’t like it when women get hurt.”

Jessy furrows her brows at that. What’s that even supposed to mean?

And wait, what?! He had chat Y/n which means he was one of the locals who harassed Y/n!

“Hey, y’all. I heard my name so would you mind if join in?”

****

“Do you think this is a good idea, Y/n?”

You turned to Jake, a smug smirk dancing across your lips. “Well, considering the last mission you need to do in order to grant your defection to the Agency has gone very well, I don’t see the problem in going back here. Plus,” your grin widens. “You have to be here. I don’t want Lilly to kill me so you have to protect me against her wrath.”

Jake chuckles at that. “You just took down twelve men just a couple of hours ago, and you mean to tell me you are afraid of Lilly?”

“It’s different,” you retorted, parking the car in the designated place Phil had made for you. You closed the door shut. Jake follows you after. From here you can already hear the music blasting inside. And judging from the disco lights you’re seeing peeking from the gates; you knew this is going to be one hell of a night.

“How do I look?” you turned to Jake as you tried to brush off imaginary specks of dust from your shirt. Not that it would make any difference. The glaring bruise on your cheek and a cut to the lip wouldn’t go unnoticed anyway.

“Like you just went on a mission.”

“I’m going to tell Aerith to dump your ass.” You narrowed your eyes at him. You couldn’t see his whole face because of his mask but you didn’t miss the way he rolled his eyes at you. “Hey, I saw that!”

Jake just shook his head and pushed you inside– forcefully.

“Just go inside and go restore your love life.”

The stench of alcohol and sweat greeted your nostrils and you didn’t bother to hide the look of pure disgust on your face, The lights were off inside but the illumination coming from the disco lights created a swirling pattern of abstract forms that gracefully blended with– is that ‘streets’?!

And is that Lilly dancing with Cleo?! If you can even call that dancing.

You snorted at the sight. The blonde’s probably drunk but Cleo looks sober enough which made this whole thing funnier. The poor girl was so embarrassed with her friend.

“I didn’t know Lilly was a fan of Doja Cat.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the idea.

You could have sworn you saw Jake’s eye twitch at the sight of his sister dancing in the middle of the dance floor with men trying to dance with her only to be pushed away by Cleo.

Not long after, Jake pushed his way through the crowd and towards his sister. You can only wish the men around Lilly good luck because a pissed Jake is someone you wouldn’t want on your plate– ever.

Shaking your head, you made your way towards the bar without any announcement when your eyes spotted those familiar beards from miles away and Thomas’ signature beanie.

“What’s cooking, good looking?”

“Y/n?!” Thomas almost spat his drink on a very unsuspecting Dan.

You thought that was the funniest thing you have ever seen but looking at Dan, it was your turn to choke on your own spit. The man looked like he saw a ghost with the way his eyes widened.

“Thanks for accepting my invitation, Y/n.” Phil wraps his arm around you. Taking you away from the bar, much to Dan’s dismay.

“Hey! I was talking to Y/n!”

Phil only gave him the finger, laughing. “Sorry, pal but we got customers.”

Dan could only grumble in annoyance as a group of rowdy teenagers came stumbling on the bar, leaving his hands full at the moment.

“You looked like you just came from a fight,” he commented as he guided you towards a corner. The music in this spot had mellowed, allowing both of you to talk in a normal voice. “I assume you won as always.”

“Won’t you know it?” You grinned. “I suppose free drinks are in order tonight?”

“Maybe,” he smirked. “Is that any way to talk to your brother-in-law?”

Your smile falters a bit. It’s been 6 months of radio silence. The last time you talked to her was when you left. You barely said goodbye. You barely gave any reassurance.

How could you though? How can you look at someone you love so much and tell yourself it’s time to go?

Would she still want you after all this time? Would she even want to talk to you?

“Is she mad at me?” You questioned quietly. The million-dollar question.

Phil noticed your apprehension, quirking an eyebrow at you. “Do you think I’ll invite you here if she hates you?”

“I mean if the invitation is out of spite, it is possible.”

He laughed. “You might want to get your head checked out, L/n. Unless you have a major concussion then you’re probably crazy to even be convinced that the kindest person in Duskwood hates your guts. Of course, she loves you shitless.” He took both of your shoulders, shaking you as if to take away those thoughts. “Listen, I didn’t just invited you here just to show gratitude for bailing me out. This is also me paying my sister back for all the shitty things I’ve done to her.”

His gaze suddenly flickered behind you, his grin coming back.

“Make my little sister happy, okay?” Without warning he pushed you forward. But not without whispering. “That’s her ex, Norman. Punch him in the face for me. Tata!”

You felt the world seemed to freeze before you when you finally saw her.

Ever since you came here you pretend to look around. You wanted to convince yourself that you’re just familiarizing yourself with your surroundings but the truth is…

I’m actually looking for you.

You can feel your chest starting to ache again. A frequent occurrence whenever you think of her. But seeing her again after all this time gives you a different kind of pain.

You find yourself walking towards her. Somehow, you’re thankful she has her back on you because it gave you a bit of time to prep yourself to face the redhead.

“He’s such a sweet guy, right? Always thoughtful with girls even if he already has a girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows raised when you finally got an earshot to the conversation Jessy was having with these people.

“Oh, I know.” Even with her back on you, you can notice Jessy was visibly tense. You frowned. Clearly, she’s uncomfortable. Just who the hell are these people?

“Of course,” the guy with a face you didn’t like boasted. So, this is the ex, huh? “I even chatted that Y/n when Lilly posted about that video. Because y’know, I don’t like it when women get hurt.”

“Hey, y’all. I heard my name so would you mind if join in?” That was the time you decided to swoop in.

You casually grab Jessy by the waist, far away from her so-called ex who doesn't seem to know how to read the room.

Telling by the lack of flinch, you know Jessy already knows it was you. If she was surprised at your sudden appearance after months of radio silence, she didn’t show it.

You put yourself between them. All the while, Norman looks a bit startled at your sudden presence. He was taken aback. He slowly backed away when he noticed your piercing gaze focused on him.

“It would be kind of rude to talk behind my back, right?” You went on. Flashing them a charming smile. You turn to Jessy, kissing her cheek. “Anyway, Dan sent me to tell you your Mimosa is good to go, babe.”

She kissed your cheek back, right across your bruise as if to tell you it didn’t go unnoticed by her. “Of course, love. Thank you!”

You fight a flush beginning to emerge on your cheeks at the endearment. But you find yourself not even trying to as the next words uttered by the woman in front of you were enough for you to grimace.

“Oh, my. I wasn’t informed you have such a hot company there, Jessy.” You could have sworn the woman batted her eyelashes at you unabashedly, making the ‘ex’ bristle next to her.

Jessy feigns a smile as she rests her head against your chest, “this is Norman and this is his girlfriend, Alica. Guys, this is my partner, Y/n.”

Norman held out his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Normy.” You smiled, ignoring the wince on his face as you might have gripped his hand a little too hard.

“It’s a-actually Norman, not Normy.” He corrected with a strained smile.

“You’re the same Normy who harassed me on the phone right?” You raised an eyebrow, your gaze challenging.

“N-no. I…” he stuttered pathetically, making you grin wider.

“Call me Ali, dear.” Alica made a move to kiss your cheek and was about to do another one, but Jessy pulled you back to her, eyes openly glaring now. The blonde didn’t seem to care as she commented, “you smell good, and that bruise looks hot.”

You were quick to wipe off the kiss from your cheeks, not even bothering to hide it from Alica. You’re not entirely sure what was Jessy’s history with her aside from Normy here. But what you’re sure of is your girlfriend has a massive jealous streak.

You have come to know that for the first week you have known her. And if blonde here has known Jessy far more than you have, then she better know that the redhead is ready to bury her alive right now.

“What the fuck is that, Ali?” Norman was the first to react, glaring at you and his girlfriend.

“Chill out, hon. I was just–“

“We’re leaving.” Jessy cuts off curtly, pulling you away from the scene. She stopped in what you assumed to be a hallway to the comfort room. Pulling out a handkerchief and a bottle of alcohol, she began to dab the piece of cloth to your cheeks. “I’m going to kill her.”

You laughed quietly, “I bet you do.”

She furrowed her eyebrow but remained quiet as she finished the job. She even sprayed her perfume on your shirt as if to wipe any trace of the blonde in you. Or she’s probably marking you. Or both. In any case, you didn’t mind.

Your heart pounded as you raised your hands to cup her cheeks. Your thumb begins to stroke her cheek in a delicate manner, and your eyes wander around her face. You are now faced with the woman you have badly missed to the point it physically gives you pain just by thinking about it. You took your time to admire her face, now up close for the first time in how many months of not seeing it.

She looked a bit thinner. Up close, you can see the effects of the situation that fell upon her— the bags under her eyes due to spending sleepless nights and the worry lines starting to form on her forehead. But in your eyes, you have never seen such beauty. She still looked beautiful, nonetheless. She was still your Jessy.

“Sorry,” you murmured. You didn’t emphasize what for. Do you even need to?

Sorry for leaving. Sorry for keeping you in the dark. Sorry for hurting you.

But none of those came close to what left your lips.

“Sorry, I let her kiss me. I shouldn’t have–”

The laugh that escaped her lips was soft and rich. Her breath tingled against your cheeks as she leaned her forehead against yours, her arms secured around your neck. You knew then that she knows what you were apologizing for and it’s sure as hell not about letting Alica kiss you.

“Apparently, that woman just really likes stealing people I love. I suppose you’re not an exemption.”

“Hmm, so she was the girl.” It wasn’t a question, but rather a realization.

“Uhuh.” Jessy is a lot closer now, lips barely an inch that if you leaned a little closer you would be kissing her. Her fingers played with the baby hairs at the back of your neck making your breath hitched. And judging by the little smirk on her lips, you knew damn well she knows her effect on you. “I’m still mad at you.” She whispers and you note the faint smell of alcohol on her breath.

“I know.” You whispered just as quietly. “Let me make it up to you.”

“How so?” A dashing smirk spreads across her features, and for a moment, your eyes drift mindlessly toward her unsuspecting lips, loving the way they curl up in a low grin. At this point, the resistance to kiss her lips would probably be a battle already lost.

So you did.

You pecked her cheeks first, another one on the corner of her mouth, and then the other one for good measure. Peppering her kisses nonstop if you could. She can only laugh softly at your antics, loving the attention you give her.

And because your always motto is "to save the best for last" you took your precious time laying a long, slow kiss full on her lips. Her hands were eager to mess with your hair, deepening the kiss. You can feel the heat rising on your skin, her touches leaving trails of fire.

Not satisfied with the proximity, you pulled her closer. You even made your way to flip your positions, now pinning the redhead against the wall and a solid chest.

Her grip on your shirt tightens in such a way that she wants to pull it off you. At the back of your mind, you were aware that someone could walk in on you two almost eating each other's faces but you're usually clumsy brain was now foggier than you could remember as you were so busy latching your mouth against her neck and feeling Jessy tilting them to the side to give you better access. Her scent, warmth, and kisses consume you ent—

“Y/n?” You and Jessy froze. That was Phil’s voice!

The urgency in his voice was enough to cleanse your hazy mind, and without the overwhelming thoughts about your girlfriend which you may not guarantee wouldn't go past what is deemed to be inexplicit, you can now hear his voice clearer against the blasting music.

You only got a few seconds to detach yourself from a disappointed and irritated Jessy and fix your hair which she seems to love to mess with.

Despite the initial annoyance, the redhead still managed to have the audacity to flash you an amusing grin as she couldn't take her eyes off your already swollen lips, seemingly satisfied with her creation. And it's not like she's any better.

Sure, her hair's fine, but her lips are a bit bruised, too and there are patches of redness forming on the side of her neck courtesy of your mouth.

When Phil finally arrived inside the room, you managed to act like you were fixing your hair whilst Jessy was trying to fix her lipstick. From his point of view, it looks like you two were having the usual conversation and not shoving each other’s tongues down your throats five seconds ago.

"Did I interrupt something?" He questioned smugly, wanting to tease you but you weren't having any of it. You were too flustered to even function properly now.

"No," was Jessy’s quick reply, not trusting you to answer. She barely managed to hide her smile behind her own mirror.

Phil looks like he doesn’t believe that obvious lie and was excited to turn to you. "Man, you should have seen the pussy-ass bitch Normy and his girlfriend arguing at the parking lot. He was like ‘why the fuck did you kissed a random stranger?’ and Alica was like ‘Is it my fault Y/n is hot?’ and then he was like–" He wasn't able to continue his story as Jessy’s glare was so sharp, that it can dissect a living creature.

Her eyebrows were raised to the fullest and her gaze was unwavering, challenging her own brother to continue his story to the extent that she wouldn’t like where it would head.

If your blood earlier had rushed towards your cheeks, it now had drained the color on your face and you're practically choking on your own spit for the second time this night.

"– and I just want to say your drinks are ready. That's all." He finishes lamely.

You knew that's not what he was trying to say, but to save his life and maybe yours from the redhead’s wrath, he knew better than to continue his story.

"Oh, and Y/n?" You perked up from your sudden faux interest to the flickering sign of the comfort room down the hallway. Phil’s smirk returned full blast. "You got a little something here,” he motioned his fingers to his lips. “See you!"

Your hand flew faster than when Phil bolted out to grab Jessy’s mirror.

And to your horror, a thin line of smeared lipstick was visible at your bottom lip. It wasn’t noticeable enough to catch someone’s attention, but it is sure as hell noticeable enough for the likes of Phil. And he wouldn’t need to put two and two together to even know what you were doing earlier with his sister.

Jessy’s laughter came rumbling across your chest as she pulled you closer again.

And boy, you were right.

Tonight’s going to be a long night.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#duskwood #duskwood mc #duskwood jessy #duskwood jessy x mc #jessy x mc #mc x jessy #jessy hawkins #duskwood richy #duskwood dan #duskwood jake #duskwood lilly #duskwood cleo #duskwood hannah #duskwood fanfiction #no beta we die like amy

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milobyelo · 2 years

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Im so fond of the idea of Bradley realizing on some like random tuesday while looking at Hangman that he’s in love with him (skips like and goes straight to love) and immediately after thinking it refuses to process it.

Bradley is in love with Hangman and he refuses to think about that entirely.

But the problem about that is that Hangman is just fucking everywhere. Every corner he turns, there he is with a smirk plastered on his face opening his perfect fucking mouth to say something irritating like always, and Rooster just books it.

Straight up turns around and runs away like some child running away from their crush on the play ground.

And poor Hangman is just so confused.

Hangman thought maybe it was a one time thing. Maybe he smelled bad that day since he had just gotten back from a hop -yeah that must have been it- but then it just keeps happening over and over again.

Rooster runs away every time he sees him no explanation.

Jake walks into the cafeteria? Bradley drops his spoon mid bite of cereal and just runs out through the opposite entrance he had just walked into, despite literally being in the middle of a conversation with multiple people.

Bradley sees him on one end of the hallway? Immediately pushes the door he just opened closed and goes back in the direction he just came from even though he knows it’s impractical.

Hell he’s even taken to walking away from him everytime Jake goes up to him at the Hard Deck to goad him into a game.

It was driving him crazy.

So one day he ambushes him at his dorm, the one place he can’t make a run from, and pushes his way through the door before the older man could close the door on him.

He walks in already scolding him about his stupidity, asking questions like ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’ and ‘Have I done something wrong to cause you to literally run away at the sight of me’.

He only stops yelling when he sees Bradley standing awkwardly in his own room refusing to make eye contact as if he’d bite his head off or something.

“Anything you have to say for yourself Bradshaw?”

“You have very pretty eyes”

No one could blame him from spluttering at the unexpected response, really, because how does one just say that after being yelled at for avoiding somebody.

Bradley does eventually come clean about his realization and Jake definitely laughs in his face for it, but they figure it out so it all works out in the end.

#top gun #top gun:maverick #hangster #bradley rooster bradshaw #hangman x rooster #jake hangman seresin #hangaroo #gay pilots #i wrote this at 3am we do not speak of the POV and person changes #no beta we die like goose #obviously #Idk this was just in my notes folder of prompts I had for these 2 and I couldn’t sleep cope

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kuro-geco · 10 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dead by Daylight (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Michael Myers/Jake Park, Michael Myers & Jake Park Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Compliant, mentioned other killers, Crows love Jake, Soft Jake Park, Concussions, Michael Myers is His Own Warning, Michael doing funky shit for his crush to notice him, Not David King Friendly, Mean David King, David King is a bastard in this one, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, No beta we die like survivors, mentioning Jake Park's family, implied Michael Myers/Jake Park, Eavesdropping, Beating the shit out of someone, could be romantic or platonic, Michael Myers being whipped, Trauma, but only sprinkled in nothing major, Happy Ending

Summary:

Jake had enough of David's bitching. He had enough of his constant boasting and being an asshole all around. He was tired of this bastard and how he could make Jake's blood boil - so he went to complain to the Crows.

Crows could listen, but couldn't do anything, so it was safe. Nothing would happen... right?

Or: Jake's complains to the Crows about David being a dick and for some reason Michael goes berserk on every Trial since then.

#ao3 fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #jake park #michael myers x jake park #dbd fanfic #dead by daylight fanfic #jayers #no beta we die like survivors #not David King friendly #cw excessive violence

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duskwoodresident · 8 months

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moira.

(n.) a person's fate or destiny.

"moira" is the story about y/n, who was an ordinary girl who had finished playing the mobile game "duskwood" for the tenth time ever since the game reached its conclusion. however, there are many unanswered questions, and everything takes a strange turn when she finds herself in the same universe as the game she played and in the very skin of her own counterpart in this world.

to find her way back to her original life, she must go through the same plotline of the game, but this time, things get even weirder when she finds out the reason why hannah; the missing girl, gave out y/n's contact number to others.

so what is this new turn in the story? does the plot clash with y/n's fate as the main character of the story?

will she be able to make it out of the game safely?

#duskwood jake #duskwood jake x mc #y/n is a celebrity #and jake is hot #what else do you need?#y/n is bisexual #y/n and amy had a thing #angela hawkins jessy's sister is a new character!#okay idk #no beta we die like men #whats a moonvale?#moonvale #the story is set in colville though

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faesjy · 10 months

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part 1 of the brooklyn99 x marauders crossover

PILOT

[We start off with James Potter walking out of a car. We hear his voice-over while he ducks over some tape, heading inside a store.]

JAMES: [Dramatically] This job is eating me alive. I can't breathe anymore. I spent all these years trying to be the good guy, the man in the white hat. I'm not becoming like them. I am them.

REGULUS: Hey! What are you doing, idiot?

[The camera pans onto a frustrated Regulus Black. We then see James projecting his face onto multiple TV screens inside the store, using what seems to be a video camera that's attached to the ten monitors.]

JAMES: I'm doing the best speech from Donnie Brasco. Or actually, ten of me are doing the best speech from Donnie Brasco. [He stares at the screens of himself.] 'Sup?

REG: Get it together, man. Okay?

[Regulus is now talking with the store owner. He has a notebook open, and a pen in hand.]

REG: So the store was hit about two hours ago. They took mostly tablets, laptops, and cameras.

[We hear a keyboard playing an 80s hip-hop beat. James is seen fiddling with it.]

JAMES: Sorry.

[He stops the music. Regulus returns back to the store owner.]

REG: I'd like a list of all your employees, whoever had access to the store. I'd also like to apologize for my partner. His parents gave him too much attention and now he believes he is the centre of the world.

JAMES: Uh, Detective... [regulus looks to james slowly.] I already solved the case. We're looking for three white males, one of whom has sleeve tats on both arms.

REG: [Walking over to James.] And how do you know that?

JAKE: I had an informant on the inside. He's been here for years. Watching, learning. Waiting. His code name? [He holds up a stuffed bear.] Fuzzy Cuddle bear. He's a nanny cam. [He flips the bear over to show the electronic device inside, which appears to be the end of a camera.]

REG: [Scoffs] You got lucky.

JAMES: No, I got here five minutes before you and figured that in this gigantic electronics store, there had to be at least one working camera. [He plugs the camera into the TV screens, broadcasting the recorded video of two guys stealing. We see their face clearly.] Oh! Hi, bad guys! [He looks to the bear] You did it, fuzzy. You busted 'em. It's time to come home.

JAMES: [Imitating the Fuzzy while holding him up.] I'm not sure if I can. I've been undercover so long, I've forgotten who I am. I have seen terrible things. I haven't known the touch of a woman in many moons.

REGULIS: [Turning away.] All right.

JAMES: [Still imitating Fuzzy, however there is desperation in his voice.] Detective Black! Don't walk away from me!

[At the precinct.]

[James is bringing in the thieves from the store, heading over to the hold-up cells. While putting them in, he ends up bumping into Regulus while trying to get out. Regulus holds his hands up in defense, James pretends as if nothing happens, grinning stupidly.]

[We are then guided into the briefing room. It is 8:31 AM.]

[James is sitting down, in a room full of detectives when he looks to everyone.]

JAMES: Yes, I did crack the case. So, Black, would you do the honors?

[Regulus, frustrated, sighs and gets up from heisspot, heading over to a board. There is a small table in the corner of the board, which has a row called 'Potter', and another called 'Black'. Under Potter, it has 23, and under Black, it has 22.]

[Regulus sighs]

JAMES: Ah, yeah. And you're just gonna add one.

[Regulus changes the 23 to a 24. However, he wrote it really small.]

JAMES: I'm winning.

[The whole room applauds, cheering the situation on.]

[Regulus sighs, again.]

JAMES: It's a good feeling. It's a good feeling. Yeah.

REGULUS: [Returning to his seat.] Enjoy it while it lasts.

JAMES: I will!

[Remus Lupin is now standing up front. He is going to start up the briefing. There is a TV behind him.]

REMUS: Potter, update on the Morgenthau murder?

[James standing up from his spot, heading to the front of the room. There is now a slideshow on the TV which James is controlling.] Yeah! Good news for all you murder fans. Earlier this morning someone decided to shoot and kill luxury food importer Henry Morgenthau. [He flipped through the slides of the murder scene from the TV.] Body was found by the cleaning lady, during her interview, I deduced, using expert Detective work, that she had something super gross on her chin. [He changed the slide to the woman, and zoomed in on the white blemish on her chin. We see Peter Pettigrew perk up on his seat.]

PETER: I think it was flan.

JAMES: Peter thinks it was flan. I think it was butterscotch pudding.

[We now see Dorcas Meadowes with her legs on the table and crossed arms.]

DORCAS:Maybe it was just old person gunk. You know how old people always have that gunk on them.

JAMES: Oldie gunk. Could be, yeah. Anyone else?

REMUS: How about we focus on the murder and not the old person gunk?

REG: Crime techs are at the scene now. We're heading back when they're done.

REMUS: Okay, I want you on this. It's gonna be priority one for the new C.O.

DORCAS: Wait, tell us about the new Captain.

REMUS: Captain McGonnagal will be here soon. She'll wanna introduce herself. Dismissed.

[Everyone gets up from their seats and heads out the room.]

[We see Sirius Black at his desk. There is a template that says 'Sirius Black Civilian Administrator'. He is filing his nails, leaned back on his chair, unbothered. Peter comes up to him, smiling wide and sitting in the seat in front of his desk.]

PETER: Hey, Sirius. You know any scalpers? I wanna ask Dorcas to go to the Rihanna concert with me, but it's sold out. [The camera zones on Dorcas at the end of the room, getting a paper out of the file box.]

SIRIUS: Okay, two points to make here. First, Rihanna... You... [he looks disappointing.] And then Rihanna. [he flares his hands in the air to emphasize on the point.]

PETER: Yeah. What's your second point?

SIRIUS: She's got a type. Which is really anyone but you.

PETER: Yeah, that was my ex-wife's type too.

SIRIUS: Look, a Rihanna concert's a pretty big swing, man. I don't know. She's into watching old movies.

PETER: Cool. Where would I find a place that shows old movies?

SIRIUS: Oh, yeah, just go on the Internet and search for the phrase "I want to buy two movie tickets for a girl who doesn't like me."

PETER: Great. [Genuinely thinking he has given him good advice. He stands up to leave.] Thank you.

SIRIUS: [as he is leaving] Good...

[Reg is leaning against James' desk.]

REG: Hey, you heard anything about the new Captain?

JAMES: Uh, no, and I don't care. I just wish Captain McGintley never left, he was the best.

REG: He was terrible. You just liked him 'cause he let you do anything you wanted.

[We see a flashback of James and Dorcas on their chairs in an open space inside the precinct. They have fire extinguishers in hand and it's pretty clear on what they want to accomplish. Everyone is around them, anticipated for the outcomes while clapping and cheering along.]

JAMES: On your marks, get set...

[The Captain's officer doors open and in comes who we presume is Captain McGintley. Everyone stops.]

MCGINTLEY: What the hell's going on around here?

JAMES: Fire extinguisher roller chair derby?

MCGINTLEY: Okay.

[He goes back into his office, closing the door behind him.]

JAMES: And go!

[They shoot the extinguishers which projects them through the precinct, however it isn't as fast and powerful as a rocket launcher, however they do get pretty far.]

JAMES: Yeah!!

[We now get back from the flashback, where Regulus is looking at James with disappointment.]

JAMES: What's your point?

[he sighs.]

REGULUS: If I'm ever gonna make Captain, I need a good mentor. I need my rabbi.

JAMES: Sorry, dude. But this new guy's gonna be another washed-up pencil pusher who's only concerned with [He imitates a robot.] Following every rule in the patrol guide. Meep morp zeep. Robot Captain Engage.

WOMAN: Is that what you think?

[We now see a woman behind James, who is staring him down. She has the new Captain uniform on, and seems to be the new Captain, Minerva McGonnagal.]

JAMES: He-hey! New Captain alert. [He stands up.] You must be the new C.O. I'm Detective James Potter. Great to meet you.

MCGONNAGAL: Now don't let me interrupt. You were describing what kind of person I'm gonna be. I'd like you to finish.

JAMES: That's not necessary. [McGonnagal stares at him, and James is sort of intimidated.] Or I could recap very quickly, sure. Um, let's see. I think I said some joke about being a washed-up pencil pusher.

MCGONNAGAL: Now do the robot voice.

JAMES: Which-

MCGONAGALL : The robot voice you were doing when you implied I'm a rule-following robot. I wanna hear it again.

[James looks around the room where everyone is watching the scene happen. Regulus seems rather proud in the moment, clearly enjoying the scene.]

JAMES: [Softy, slowly and without any enthusiasm.] Meep morp zarp. Robot.

MCGONAGALL: That's a terrible robot voice.

JAMES: Yep.

MCGONAGALL: The next time I see you, I'd like you to be wearing a necktie.

[McGonagall starts to leave.]

JAMES: Oh, actually, the last Captain didn't care if we wore ties.

MCGONAGALL: [Stopping just before he enters his new office.] Well, your new Captain does. And more importantly, she cares that you follow her direct orders. [She then turns to the rest of the detectives and officers in the precinct.] Everyone, I'm your new commanding officer, Captain Minnie McGonagall.

REG: Speech!

MCGONAGALL : That was my speech.

REG: Short and sweet.

[in minnie's office]

MCGONAGALL : [Standing up and heading to her office window, looking over the precinct.] Tell me about your Detective squad.

REMUS: Um... Well, Barty and Evan [we see two men talking by the vending machines, giggling among themselves, most likely plotting something] They're pretty much worthless, but they make good coffee.

MCGONAGALL : Copy that.

REMUS: Now the good ones. Dorcas Meadowes.

[We see a woman at her desk, browsing online. The internet seems to be slow since she tapped the TV with her hand once. Then again. Then multiple times in a row.] Tough, smart, hard to read, and really scary.

[Flashback time. It is Christmas, and we see Evan at the printer when Dorcas comes in.]

DORCAS: Tell me who has me for Secret Santa.

EVAN: No! That takes all the fun out of it.

[EVAN is smiling, but Dorcas is far from happy. She glares at him while Barty pales slightly.]

EVAN: It's Barty. He got you a scarf. I'll make him return it.

DORCAS: Yes, you will.

[Back to the present.]

REMUS: Peter Pettigrew

REMUS: He's a grinder. Not the most brilliant Detective, but he works harder than anyone else, he really does.

[Flashback to Peter in the staff kitchen, ready to eat a muffin only to drop it on the floor.

PETER: Oh, man! My muffin. [He goes to pick it up, but his head hits the counter instead.] Ahh! Oh, my head! [He looks to the muffin which he accidentally stepped on.] My muffin, my head! And I stepped on the- On my muffin! And my head and my muffin.

[Back to the present.]

REMUS: Regulus Black.

[We cut to Regulus at his desk. A ball of elastics in hand, and his face scrunched up, concentrated.]

REMUS: He’s got mommy issues and a weird love-hate relationship with his brother Sirius, so he’s always trying to prove he's tough.

[Flashback to Reg pouring hot sauce over his hotdog in the staff room.]

BARTY: Careful. That stuff's pretty hot.

[he puts down his sandwich, staring at Barty.]

REG: Oh, is it? Hmm? [he puts more sauce on his sandwich, until the top is filled with sauce. He goes to eat it, some sauce dripping onto his hand. His face starts to scrunch up, and he's gagging, spitting the food right out. Barty doesn't even bat an eye.]

[Back to the present. We see the camera zoom in on James at his desk. He and Regulus have close desks, and we can see that in the frame.]

REMUS: He and Potter have some big bet over who gets more arrests this year. Ever since the bet, their numbers have gone way up.

MCGONAGALL : Tell me about Potter.

[James now has an action figure in hand of a police man, and is examining it. In the light, out of the light, everywhere.]

REMUS: James Potter is my best Detective. He likes putting away bad guys and he loves solving puzzles. The only puzzle he hasn't solved is how to grow up.

MCGONAGALL : That was very well put.

REMUS: I've talked a lot about James in my departmentally mandated therapy sessions.

MCGONAGALL : Look, you know my history. You know how important this is to me. This precinct is doing fine, but I wanna make it the best one in Brooklyn. And I need your help.

[later]

[McGonagall is in her office with Sirius sitting in front of her desk, seeming that McGonagall has asked him to chat.]

MCGONAGALL: So, Sirius. Civilian administrators like yourself often have their ear to the ground. What do Black and Potter have riding on this bet of theirs?

SIRIUS: I will tell you under six conditions. Number one, you let me use your office to practice electric guitar. Second-

MCGONAGALL : How about this? If you tell me-

SIRIUS: Mm-hmm.

MCGONAGALL : I won't have you suspended without pay.

SIRIUS: Oh, that sounds great. [McGonagall sits down.] Okay, the deal is if Regulus gets more arrests, James has to give him his car. It's an old Mustang, and it's pretty sweet. If he gets more arrests, he has to go on a date with him. He guarantees it will end in sex, -which makes me uncomfortable because Reg is my brother but oh well-, I bet on at least some over-the-clothes action. At the very least, some touching-

MCGONAGALL : No, that's enough, Sirius.

SIRIUS: Caresses. I could see James showing up in a silk robe.

MCGONAGALL : That's enough, Sirius.

SIRIUS: All right.

MCGONAGALL : Thank you.

—————

that was the first part, any feedback is appreciated :)

- jules

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fox-bee926 · 1 year

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Im reading a Jake "Hangman" Seresin fic on ao3 and one of the tags was "no beta we die like goose"

#im cackling #no beta we die like goose #jake seresin #hangman #top gun #top gun maverick #fanfiction

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arami-004 · 1 year

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My first TGM fanfiction in English. Enjoy!

#top gun maverick #hangster #sereshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd #natasha phoenix trace #javy coyote machado #fanfiction #no beta we die like goose #rooster x hangman

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chiaraanatra · 1 year

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Cop Car

Summary: It’s the end of senior year and you and your best friend, Jake Seresin, decide to sneak on to the Naval Air Station to watch airplanes take off. Unfortunately, the night doesn’t go exactly as planned. (Based a little on the song Cop Car by Keith Urban)

Warnings: kissing, swearing, cops?

Word Count: 1.1k

AN: I know nothing about the military, and I feel like this shit would not fly! Regardless of your parent’s status, this would come with real repercussions probably. But I never claimed to know anything except that Glen Powell is a southern cutie!

For parts 2 & 3 of this accidental series: pt 2: Break up in a Small Town || pt 3: Falling Like This

《 m.list || ao3 》

“You realize we’re dead if we get caught right?” You said as you watch Jake drive right past the no trespassing signs of the Naval Air Station. You weren’t exactly sure how you got roped into driving to the NAS in Jake’s beat-up truck at 11 at night, but you were sure it had something to do with his perfect green eyes.

“If we get caught.” He flashed you that winning smile and your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat. You and Jake had been friends since you moved to Corpus Cristy, TX after your dad got promoted and stationed at their Naval Air Station. You had met on your first day of Freshman year and the two of your clicked instantly. Now it was getting towards the end of your senior year and you both were getting ready to head off to the naval academy, wanting to follow in your fathers’ footsteps.

“And besides even if we did get caught your dad would get you out of any serious trouble and I can take whatever punishment my dad can dish out.” Both of your fathers were retired naval pilots, with your father taking the Chief of Naval Air Training position and Jake’s father holding Chief of Staff at the Corpus Christi base.

You rolled your eyes, your father loved you, but he was still a hard ass, and sneaking out of your house and onto the base at night was certainly going to bring hell if you two got caught. Jake parked his truck in the center of the field overlooking the naval airstrip. You tried to shake those thoughts out of your mind as you grabbed some of the blankets from the back seat and make your way to the tailgate. You tossed the blankets over before Jake placed his hands on your hips to help you onto the tailgate. You couldn’t help but shiver when the warmth of his hands left your body.

You weren’t sure when you developed these less-than-plutonic feelings for Jake, but they had only grown in intensity as your senior year began to wind down. You moved to the back of the truck bed as Jake made his way up taking a seat next to you and wrapping blankets around the two of you. You looked up at the stars and watched the planes take off toward the gulf.

“One day that’s gonna be us.”

“Taking off from the NAS at Corpus Christi? I sure hope we have better things in store.”

“No,” He laughed and playfully pushed your shoulder. “Up there flying. Who gives a shit where we take off from when the sky is literally the limit.”

“Fair point.” You looked over and saw Jake smiling with his head towards the sky. You would give anything to witness that smile again and again. You were down bad, and you knew it but you were too scared to ruin your friendship to make the first move.

Little did you know that Jake felt the same way. He couldn’t help but steal glances at your face wishing he could run his fingers through your hair and kiss your perfect lips. He felt his hand inching towards your thighs from under the cover of the blankets before blue and red lights began to blaze from behind the two of you.

“Hands up where I can see them! Don’t move.” You heard shouting from behind you.

“Fuck…” you heard Jake whisper under his breath.

“Man, ain't this some shit," you mumbled as you raised your hands above your head.

You both watched as the officer walked towards the back of the truck before shining his flashlight in your faces. “Seresin? L/N? Are you shiting me?”

You recognized the voice in an instant. It was one of the newer officers that had taken on the night security post. “Good evening, Officer Maxwell. Lovely night, wouldn’t you say?” You smiled attempting to sweet-talk the young officer.

“What the hell are you two doing here? You know damn well that you can’t be here.” The young man holstered his flashlight and weapon before removing his hat and running his hand through his hair out of frustration. “You know I’m going to have to make a report against the both of you.”

“We-“ Before Jack could get his words out you had jumped off the tailgate and made your way toward the younger officer.

“Danny,” you bit your lip a little looking up to the officer, charm turned up to 11. “Can I call you Danny?” Your hand fell on his arms looking up at his with wide eyes.

“I-um,” Officer Maxwell couldn’t help but stutter as he took in your form. He quickly shook his head of any thoughts surrounding your form, “please just the both of you get out of here.”

“Thank you, Officer Maxwell.” You gave him a wink before running back to the truck. Your eyes made their way to Jake who was in awe of your little performance.

“Let’s go,” you muttered under your breath.

Jake left everything in the back, raised the tailgate, and made his way to the driver’s side door. You two took off like bats out of hell through the back roads of the base. Once you were a little way from the base, jake pulled over on the side of the road to let his heartbeat settle. “Shit… If your dad finds out he’s gonna kill me!”

Few things scared Jake; however, your father was close to the top of that shortlist. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Jake looked at you with confusion, “how can you be laughing right now?”

You looked over to the driver’s side, taking in Jake’s serious face. Your heart couldn’t help but flutter. You weren’t sure if it was the excitement, the adrenaline, or what, but you felt a sudden surge of confidence. You look down at your lap before looking back to Jake. “Common, Seresin.” You leaned over the center console of his truck, face only inches from his, “live a little.”

Jake’s, eyes moved from your own to your lips before your surge of confidence hit him like a tone of bricks. He slowly moved his hand to touch your cheek, giving you time to move away if he was reading your signals wrong. You took this as an opportunity to close the distance between the two of you, gently pressing your lips to his.

The kiss quickly deepened, only breaking so the two of you could catch your breath. You pressed your forehead to his. A wide smile made its way to Jake’s face, “oh your dad is definitely gonna kill me.”

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

#Jake “Hangman” Seresin #Hangman #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #drabble #jake seresin x reader #top gun x reader #Top Gun #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #reader insert #no beta we die like men

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bobby-r2d2-floyd · 1 year

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The Nanny part 2

note: here's part two to the nanny! i'm hopefully going to try and start to get longer pieces out soon, i'm still trying to get back into the swing of writing fics again.

warnings: mentioned of parental death

trigger warning: one sentence in the fourth paragraph that talks about school shooting, but no violence actually occurs.

word count: 1.6k (sorry it's short, between yesterday and today i've had a headache that wouldn't go away :( )

no beta again, we die like men

inspired by: @roosterforme

previous part | next part

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You just moved to California, wanting a change from the cold Vermont air and where better to stay than with your aunt, Penny Benjamin. Penny was your mom’s sister, an unfortunate accident in 1999 took your mother and your father, you were 10 years old. Penny was more than willing to take in her only niece, even if it meant having you relocate to Virginia with her.

Years had passed and Penny had done all but adopt you, she called you her daughter when people asked, made all your appointments for you until you were old enough to make your own, she helped you with boys, and then girls, when you came out to her. She held you while you cried over your first real heartbreak, she taught you all about your period and safe sex. She made you feel comfortable, like you could go to her with any problem that you had, and she would fix it for you.

Maybe it also helped that your grandfather was an admiral in the United States Navy, but that’s beside the point, Penny Benjamin took care of you when you had no one once, and she was more than happy to do it again.

Being a teacher, especially in today’s world, is hard. You had to worry about whether or not your school was going to fall victim to the next mass shooting, if you could keep your kids safe in an environment where the legislators didn’t care. It was a hard choice to make, leaving the school system, because you knew that they were already understaffed, and that there were no qualified substitute teachers available to take over your position… but between the abuse from your principal, the students, and the entitled parents? You were done.

You at least waited until the end of the school year before packing it all up and moving west. It was a sad goodbye with all the students you had loved but for your sanity, it was what you needed to do.

Penny had an open bedroom, and Amelia was thrilled to be living with you again, mainly so you can help her on her homework, and of course you were happy to see Penny and Pete back together. You always loved having him around when you were a kid, and it really did feel like your relationship with him never waivered, even though you only texted each other for holidays and birthdays after the last time he and Penny “broke up”.

You were laying on the couch scrolling through your phone, not paying attention to whatever it was Amelia had put on the tv when Penny walked in after her short shift at the bar; it was a slow weekend and Jimmy had it plenty under control.

“Hey, so I might have told one of the guys Pete works with that you’d be willing to nanny for him.” Penny says as soon as she walks in.

“Are you talking to me?” Amelia asks, not looking away from the tv and Penny laughs.

“No, your sister.”

That catches your attention and you groan.

“I don’t want to nanny some old admiral’s bratty kids.” you say as you sit up and Penny sits next to you.

“He isn’t an old admiral with bratty kids, he’s 35, the same age as Bradley, and he literally just had an infant dropped off on his front porch today.” she tells you and you look over at her. “He needs a lot of help, and you would be perfect for the job. Aside from working at the bar you’re never doing anything.” she shrugs and steals some of the popcorn that was on the table and you look at her with your mouth open.

“Okay, first off. Rude. Secondly, I do plenty of stuff!”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Uh, I help Amelia with her homework.”

“And you can help her while also helping Jake out with his daughter.” Penny says and you sigh.

“Fine.” you grumble and head into the kitchen, “do you eat yet, Pen?”

“Yeah, Pete brought me food to the bar.”

“Don’t you… serve food at the bar too?”

“Not sushi.”

You spend the next three weeks waiting to meet this Jake guy. Sure you knew of him, but you didn’t want to be persuaded by the ‘Hangman’ persona that he had before becoming a dad. Sure people don’t just change overnight, so you’re sure he still has quite the mouth and attitude, especially if this baby is keeping him up at night.

You opened the bar early and the members of the Dagger Squad slowly filtered in. Bob was sitting at the bar with you while you were getting bottles ready, he was telling you a story from when he was a kid on his family’s farm and he was chasing down pigs and slipped and fell in the mud when the bell above the door rang.

Looking over, you see a man you don’t recognize carrying a little baby in the cutest little dress you’ve ever seen, a diaper bag slung over his other shoulder. You shoot him a smile as he walks up to the bar.

“Hi! I’m Y/N Benjamin, but you can call me Saturn.” you say as you wipe a rag over the bar top, cleaning up some of the iced tea that Bob spilled. “You must be Jake?”

This new man smiles at you and nods, “Yes ma’am.” he says, setting the diaper bag on a barstool.

You watch his muscles flex as he shifts his daughter from one side to the other to give his arm a break and he catches you staring at her. “This is Avery.” he turns so you can see the little girl’s face and you let out a gentle little coo.

“Oh look at you! Aren’t you just the cutest little girl.” you say, talking in a voice that has her laughing and reaching out for you. You take her from Jake without even hesitating and she plays with the fingerprint pendants of your parents that you have hanging around your neck.

Since the bar is still technically closed for another hour and a half, you make your way out from behind the bar and take a seat on the stool next to Bob who smiles at the little girl, pulling away as she tries to reach for his glasses but isn’t quick enough as she rubs her chubby fingers over his lenses.

You and Jake just laugh at her antics and at poor Bob who is left with baby drool covered glasses for the time being, but even he can’t stay mad at little Avery. She looks up at you, blue-green eyes bright as she smiles her little gummy smile and laughs along with the two of you.

Jake can’t believe how comfortable Avery already is with you, it took days for her to warm up to anyone aside from Penny; she still doesn’t like Rooster but Jake believes it's a hundred percent because of his mustache. Normally he’s nervous when she’s around strangers of any kind, even her own doctor when she first saw the woman, but with you he’s oddly… comfortable.

Begrudgingly you hand Avery back to Jake, you have to open the bar in 20 minutes and you’re already way behind but thankfully Bradley volunteers to help you get ready. You’re standing next to him slicing limes as he cuts up some oranges.

“You know, she’s never taken to someone that fast before.” he says, making sure the slices are relatively uniform.

“It’s because I’m a woman.” you tease and he rolls his eyes.

“No, seriously. Penny was a given because she’s just the best, but Phoenix? Bob? She only just started to get along with them, and those two are the best people in this entire squad. It even took her a bit to warm up to Hangman and he’s her dad.” Rooster says, stealing an orange slice that he cut too thin before taking a beer from the fridge under the counter and walking away.”

“You have to pay for that!”

“Put it on my tab, Rings!” he calls out, throwing a wink over his shoulder and you roll your eyes, opening a tab for him before going over to the window and flipping the ‘open’ sign on.

You’re about halfway through your shift when Jake walks up to you, Avery sleeping against him despite the volume of the bar.

“Hey, headed home?” you ask, taking the top off of a few beers before handing them to the patron that was waiting.

“Yeah, figured she would prefer to sleep in her bed tonight than on the pool table.” he jokes and you give a gentle laugh.

“Yeah, probably.”

“I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out this weekend? Talk about what Pen offered? If-if you still think you can help me out?” he chews his lip a little, nervous for you to say you’re not interested.

“Yeah! Definitely, uh… here,” you grab a napkin and write your number down with a little cartoon drawing of a circle with a ring around it, how you always signed your nickname. “I’m off on Saturday and Penny isn’t opening on Sunday since it’s going to be such a hot night, she wants us to be off so I’ll be free whenever on both days.” you tell him and he tucks the napkin in his pocket with his phone.

“I’ll text you on Saturday? I can pick you up? Or I mean-” you cut him off with a laugh.

“You can pick me up, I assume you know where Penny lives?” he nods and smiles.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Great, see you on Saturday, Dad-man.” you give him a wink before turning away to go help Jimmy out with the patrons that have gathered around the bar. Jake laughs and turns around to head out, Dad-man?

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wil-o-wispy · 1 month

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The Wife, the Lover and the Bastard Son - Part 3

Pairing: Chris Redfield x FM! Reader (but not in this part)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (You are here) | Part 4

Summary: One year after running from your feelings for Chris Redfield, an oddly familiar face emerges from the shadows.

Contents: Small spoilers for RE6, mentions of vomitting from seasickness, canon typical violence/swearing, Jake banter, canon typical puzzle bullshit, LORE. Reader is referred to as 'Doc' and is the wife of (dead) Albert Wesker and is a former Umbrella scientist.

a/n: Jake is literally one of the best characters in RE6 it is CRIMINAL that he's not in more fics. Be the change you want to see in the world. The plot is plotting in this part and I got a little carried away with descriptions but we're rolling with it. Also many thanks for 100+ likes on this series already. Enjoy!

w/c: 7.1k

1 Year Later:

Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t puke.

That’s all you can think of under the black hood. The last thing you need right now is to puke on yourself. You should be thinking of ways to escape your current predicament, but your stomach lurching with the irregular rise and fall of the boat you’re handcuffed to, the indiscernible shouting of your kidnappers, the sweat all over your body from the unbearable heat and seasickness, and the sickeningly strong scent of fish and salty air is making that near impossible.

How the hell do I keep getting caught up in this shit? Don’t fucking puke. Breathe in through the mouth, out through the nose.

You’d had terrible seasickness since Albert kept you on that tanker for so long until Africa happened. After the second time trying to escape him and being mildly successful, he wanted to make damn sure that it didn’t happen again. Therefore: boat timeout. A boat prison meant it would be more difficult to escape. More resources needed, more planning required for a chance at walking on dry land. The chronic seasickness was an unintended side effect you’re sure, but it only gave another weakness for Albert to leverage against you. ‘The sickness will cease if you listen to me dearheart,’ didn’t sound like a compelling argument on its own to inject Uroboros in your veins, but presented as a solution to vomiting constantly because of the ocean’s movement for four years, it was pretty damn tempting some days. If you didn’t already know that virus was a death sentence, you might have given it a shot.

You’d even insisted that any transportation involving sea travel be explicitly prohibited while you were consulting/in protective custody with the B.S.A.A. Travel by air and car were far more convenient anyway, or at least that’s what Chris assured you. The man witnessed you puking your guts out the day he rescued you from that tanker. Of course he’d back up your request.

I wonder if he knows I’m gone yet. Deep breaths. Don’t puke.

It’s likely, considering it’s been some hours. Even though you’re considered part of B.S.A.A Europe now, you’re still willing to bet that Chris still got important updates about you considering your history. Higher-ups wouldn’t think twice about their favorite soldier wanting updates about the widow of Albert Wesker.

You know better.

His interest is much more personal than that.

As much as you would like to entertain a relationship, you can’t bring yourself to finding out what the aftermath of Chris’ professional life would be if you did. You felt guilty about leaving so quickly and not even telling him, but you figured if you had told him before you left, he might have convinced you to stay. You’d sent him a text wishing him well when you got to your new apartment an ocean away, which is better than nothing you suppose.

You hope he’d get a kick out of the security footage at least. You managed to aggressively elbow one of your kidnappers in the jaw and make them stagger back before you were overwhelmed, restrained and thrown in the back seat of a car. Surprisingly, there weren’t any physical consequences to that besides a mildly sore elbow. Whoever wanted to take you wants you all in one piece, which can either be really good or really bad. It’s the world’s most shitty game of roulette; is it a job offer to work for a terrorist organization? Or is it one of Albert’s disgruntled business partners wanting to use you as a test subject for revenge? Both were unpleasant in their own ways.

With all the circumstances surrounding your transfer to the Germany B.S.A.A. lab, everything was going surprisingly well. Too well. You should have known it wouldn’t last forever. Nothing good ever does in your life. Chris had tried to reach out a few times wanting to talk, but you always dodged his calls blaming the time difference, your workload, or the near-constant stream of outbreaks that always required your professional attention. You didn’t mind. Keeping busy meant less time to think about Chris’ wounded expression the last time you saw him. The attempts at contact eventually slowed in frequency and you only saw him in the occasional group video call regarding major outbreaks. The North American branch rarely had a reason to visit your particular station with it only being a lab and having nothing to do with the B.S.A.A.’s military operations. A small blessing in your eyes.

Germany was a far away dream at this point. There’s light piercing through the fabric of your hood, so you know it’s the next day. It was night when you were taken. You didn’t get a good look at your kidnappers, but you heard them speaking some sort of Asiatic-related language before they bagged you, as well as throughout your journey to wherever ‘here’ is. All you know for sure is that you were in a car for a long time, a plane for an even longer amount of time (that you somehow slept through most of), and this boat for what feels like an eternity.

Mercifully, your hear shouts from the shore and the movement of the boat changes from a straight choppy line to a diagonal jerky tug and pull. They’re docking the boat. You hear an announcement from an old-sounding speaker in that same unfamiliar language close by, followed by an ear grating buzzer. The words from the speaker echo around the space, giving you the impression of a rocky and unforgiveable terrain.

You still feel wobbly when you’re practically dragged from the boat by your handcuffed wrists, but you manage to walk in what you think is a straight line towards wherever your destination is. The hollow echo of walking on wood underneath your feet turns into the gravely sound of small pebbles, then morphs into solid concrete. The overwhelming fish smell also grows weaker the farther you walk inland, although you can still barely smell it if you focus on your kidnappers. They’re talking boisterously and laughing. You can hear them on either side of you, in front of you, and behind you. The desire to rip off your hood, bodycheck the goons next to you, and run off into God-knows-where was strong, but it was also a rash, stupid decision.

Don’t lash out immediately, know the enemy first.

You’d always been told to comply with kidnappers until the B.S.A.A. could get to you, but on the other hand you’re just too proud to blindly do everything they tell you. You always operate on the assumption they won’t find you in time. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. So, you do what’s become natural at this point: observe and take mental notes.

After a few more paces and a comment from the leader in front of you that the other three belly laugh at, you hear a metallic click, then the metal on metal symphony of a large factory sized door slowly opening a few yards in front of you. There’s a moment of silence between your kidnappers. Then, the ringleader in front of you tugs on your cuffs so hard that you nearly stumble to the ground, but you manage to barely keep your balance. He says words where he sounds like he’s smiling. A joke like before? But the other three aren’t laughing this time. The one on your back right says something quietly, and the ringleader holding your cuffs barks something back angrily.

Then it hits you: these guys are nervous. They haven’t been here before. They’re hesitating to go into the unknown entrance in front of you. These guys are probably a hired third party. The man holding your cuffs shouts something else, startling you and breaking your train of thought. He pulls the cuffs forward as he walks and you’re forced to follow. You hear three pairs of hesitant footsteps behind you.

It only takes a few seconds for you to realize why three of the four men got cold feet at the door. It’s dark in here. The sunlight that was able to pierce through the dark fabric of the hood lessens in intensity the further you’re dragged into the room. As the sounds of the ocean outside get further and further away and you’re questioning what kind of building could possibly be this large.

There’s nervous dissent among the three kidnappers behind you when the big metal door starts closing, but another angry remark from the leader shuts them up. You’re led further and further into the room. You hear yours and your kidnapper’s footsteps echoing around the cavernous room, but the sound gradually reverberates less and less the closer you’re led to bright lights on the other end of the room. The darkness under your hood lessens and grows surprisingly brighter until you’re forced to stop. The ringleader in front of you clears his throat, and pushes you forward slightly. He speaks like a game show host presenting the grand prize, the forced showmanship feeling out of place in the empty environment. A higher pitched, lilting male voice responds over a speaker overhead. Unimpressed. The ringleader tries to keep up the act, but is quickly shut down again.

You hear the higher pitched voice bark out something that sounds like an order, you hear a huff from the leader next to you, then the black hood is ripped off your head. Your eyes are immediately assaulted with bright, military grade lights pointing in your direction. You try to blink away the blindness, but even after getting used to not being in almost complete darkness, you can only make out the silhouette of a wiry man and a bulkier man with some kind of rifle standing next to him in an observation chamber above you. You see the wiry man nod his head in approval. He leans forward and you hear a polite, lightly accented higher pitched voice over the speaker.

“Welcome Doctor. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you.”

You don’t recognize the voice, so you elect keep your expression neutral. “It’s a pleasure to be here.” You reply flatly, clearly wanting to be anywhere else.

“I do apologize for your long journey. But some things just can’t be helped. These kind gentlemen will show you to your accommodations.”

At first, you think he’s referring to your kidnappers, but then you see two soldiers walk out from the darkness in front of you. They’re dressed in black, military style gear and wear something similar to a gas mask on their faces. They’re also holding electric batons. You look around. Your kidnappers are dressed in street clothes and appear close to middle age. Maybe you should have taken your chances with them outside. As the soldiers walk out of the shadows, the lead kidnapper holding you by your cuffs, the oldest by the looks of him, gestures to the wiry man above you all and starts almost shouting in a firm tone while alternating between rubbing his fingertips together and an ‘okay’ symbol. Payment.

The wiry man’s silhouette presses a button on the console in front of him in the booth, and more lights come on to your left. Crates. Lots of them. You don’t know what’s inside from this distance, but judging by the smile on the lead kidnapper’s face the payment is more than satisfactory. The previous nervous tension among the four men is completely eradicated. The nervous one that spoke before tosses a small set of keys to one of the soldiers, the lead kidnapper pushes you forward towards the other soldier, and all four of the men head over to the crates to check out their bounty.

You see the soldier with the key place it in one of the pockets on the front of his uniform and walk back towards the darkness, while the other places you in front of him with a firm hand on your shoulder and walks you forward. You’re in complete darkness for a few paces before you’re blinded again by a pair of industrial elevator doors opening and shadows walking towards you.

You realize the two escorting you are guards at best, not soldiers. The squad in front of you is armed with much more deadly weapons; you recognize pistols and semi-automatic TMP’s as the group marches past you back into the warehouse-type room with your original kidnappers. You don’t have long to wonder why they’re marching back into the room. Just as the doors to the elevator are closing, you hear the confused shouts of your kidnappers get cut short by rapid gunfire.

No witnesses. That’s never good.

You’re not in the elevator for long. The doors open to reveal a long hallway with more industrial style architecture. The guard in front of you starts walking forward and the guard behind you lightly pushes you to follow. His presence behind you makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

As you’re ushered forward, it feels like you’re walking through a cross between an old factory and one of the old Umbrella labs. Some things appear to be 40 years old or more, and other things, such as the doors, have been updated to be futuristic sliding electric doors with keypads for additional security. The wheels are turning in your head on what this place of operations could possibly be, but you don’t have enough information to make any solid conclusions yet.

The guard in front of you scans a key card on the panel next to the door, it beeps, then the door gracefully slides open to reveal another hallway similar to the last one, but completely renovated; bright white and futuristic. The architect clearly took inspiration from the old Umbrella labs.

About halfway down the new hallway, you realize you don’t feel the presence of the guard behind you anymore. You look over your shoulder and stop in your tracks when you see the guard unconscious on the ground a few feet away.

Huh. How’d that happen?

When you stop walking, the guard in front of you turns around, probably to get you to keep moving to whatever cell these people have prepared for you for you. But as soon as the guard turns around, you see a gray blur drop from the ceiling out of the corner of your eye. The gray blur, a ginger headed man, punches the guard, which makes the guard stumble but he regains his footing quickly. They exchange a few attempts at hitting each other; the guard tries to swing the electric baton but the mystery man dodges the attempted strike. The mystery man gets a few good punches in and successfully disarms the guard, but the guard is able to catch the man’s wrist, the guard then uses his forearm as leverage to pin the man to the wall. It looks the guard is trying to cut off the mystery man’s air circulation, but the man has enough strength and fighting know-how to not get knocked out.

For a moment, you don’t know what to do. You don’t recognize the new man. The only thing you know is that he’s a skilled fighter, and the other guard isn’t going down easy. You also know you can’t escape by yourself, and the B.S.A.A. doesn’t know where you are.

Help the stranger it is.

You run over to the unconscious guard and grab his electric baton and grip it the best you can with your hands bound together. The mystery man is still pinned to the wall by the guard and is trying to wiggle free.

You sprint down the hall, wind up the prod, and smack the guard on the side of the head. The guard doesn’t go down like you hoped, but the shock of you hitting him with the baton gives the mystery man enough time to grab the guard with both hands and ram him into the wall, knocking him out cold.

“You good?” You ask, somewhat out of breath.

The man stretches his neck and arms, nodding his head. “Never better. Thanks for that.”

Now that the man isn’t brawling with the guards, you get a better look at him.

A nagging sense of familiarity emerges in the back of your mind. You’re positive you haven’t met this man before. You couldn’t have. You would have remembered the large diagonal scar on the left side of his face that stretches from the junction of his cheek and nose all the way down to his jaw, or the buzzed ginger hair. Those features aren’t exactly forgettable, yet some detail that you can’t put your finger on in the moment keeps tugging at your memory.

You shake off the feeling. You can sort that out later, but right now you have more binding things to focus on. You hold out your wrists, still bound in the cuffs.

“No problem. Mind returning the favor? The key’s in his chest pocket.” You point your chin to the guard that you shocked.

“Sure thing.”

Jake saunters over to the guard, rolls the unconscious body over to unzip the front pocket to grab the key, then walks back over to you to start undoing the locks on your cuffs. Jake’s eyes flicker between the lock and your face as he does so.

“So… you’re the hot shot scientist.”

It’s more of a statement than a question. You narrow your eyes. Jake easily unlocks the first cuff and begins to work on the second one.

“That depends… who’s asking?”

“Name’s Jake.”

Knowing his name doesn’t help you place this man’s face. You stay silent and wait for Jake to keep going and give you a last name or the company he works for, but instead he unlocks the second cuff and tosses them away, looking at you expectantly with an easy smirk.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.”

“Not before you tell me why you’re here.” When in doubt, be on the side of caution. Just because this man helped you, doesn’t mean he’s on your side. You rub your wrists, trying to get rid of the sting of the cuffs being on your wrists for so long.

“Just a little… preventative maintenance for a friend. You got a name?”

You purse your lips, trying to get a read on what Jake means by ‘preventative maintenance.’ He took out the guards, so unless he’s going for a long con, he doesn’t work for the people who took you. Most mercenaries wouldn’t rescue someone on a job unless it’s in their contract, although any good murder for hire would know what their target looked like before accepting the job. You’re willing to bet his intentions are most likely in line with your own. You relax your shoulders.

“Just call me Doc. And yeah, I’m the virologist.”

The cavalier attitude Jake is exuding shifts slightly and for a moment you think he’s connected the dots on who you are, but instead Jake’s attitude morphs into optimistic determination.

“You know the periodic table?”

You stand there, confused and trying to figure out why he’s thinking about something so out of left field, but coming up with nothing. You answer honestly. “Uh… yes?”

A satisfied smirk stretches across his face. “Good. I could use your help. C’mon.”

Jake strides over to a specific section of wall and presses an unassuming panel on it. A keypad pops out and Jake starts to type on it while you stay in your spot processing what just happened.

“Excuse you, I don’t remember volunteering my expertise!”

“What’s the hold up Doc?” Jake finishes inputting the number sequence and you hear a hiss, something metal releasing, the panel of wall that you now realize is a hidden door sliding back a couple inches, then the wall panel sliding to the left to reveal an industrial staircase winding downward. Jake turns back to you, a cavalier expression on his face. “You got something planned already with sleeping beauty over there? Or are you coming with me?”

Jake gestures to the guard you electrocuted on the floor. You look at the guard, then the other one further down the hall, then back to Jake. “Lucky for you, my plans just got canceled. Let’s go.”

It only takes a few minutes to figure out that Jake knows his way around this place. The staircase leads to another series of dingy hallways that Jake saunters through with confidence. Either he’d already figured out these sections weren’t closely guarded, or he’d taken measures to make sure he wouldn’t have to worry about surveillance. Either way, you’re relieved to be in the presence of someone who knows what they’re doing and isn’t trying to hold you hostage.

“So… you didn’t say who you work for.”

Jake thinks about his answer, then shrugs and keeps walking. “I consider myself an independent contractor. But right now, I’m on the B.S.A.A.’s payroll.”

“Really? You don’t strike me as B.S.A.A.” You know for a fact that the B.S.A.A. recruits almost exclusively from armies around the world. Army life causes soldiers to have a certain disposition. A certain disciplined way of carrying oneself resulting from years of drills and training. Jake’s body language felt much too relaxed for that lifestyle.

“I’m consulting.”

You give the man a half smile hearing that. The way Jake said that made it sound like he wasn’t exactly happy about it, but accepted the job nonetheless. Something you could easily relate to. “What a coincidence, so am I.”

“For viruses? You some kind of expert on bioweapons?”

You shrug and keep following Jake. “I’ve got a good amount of practical experience.” It’s a true but vague statement. Jake doesn’t need to know the details of why you know so much. Any mention of your past with Umbrella or Wesker never ends well with strangers.

Jake looks over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised. “Don’t give me that humble bullshit.”

You scoff and smile. Definitely not army. “Okay. You’d be hard pressed to find someone who knew more. Better? What do you need to know?”

“Give me a rundown of the G-Virus.”

You don't answer for a long moment, stunned. “The G? These guys went through the trouble to get me here for that?” Your tone is incredulous.

“What?” Jake doesn’t sound confused at your reaction. Only curious.

“It’s just… unstable and obsolete compared to other bioweapons. It’s not exactly competitive against strains nowadays where infected can tell the difference between enemy and ally.”

“Obsolete huh? What’s your theory on why they have it all the way out here then?”

“They’re… low on funding and have limited options? Or they didn’t care what they’re buying.”

You pause, realizing Jake can fill in some missing information for you. “And who are ‘they’ and what is ‘here?’ I didn’t get a good look at anything on my way in.”

Jake chuckles and shakes his head. “You must piss off a lot of people.”

You roll your eyes at Jake’s comment and keep following him. “You don’t have to be an ass about it.”

“Not judging, I respect it. I’m on a fair share of shit lists myself.”

“If you don’t know the answers, you can just be honest about it.”

“Alright alright. Technically, we’re in Japan, but it’s more of a small as shit island in the Pacific. I was told this was a former Umbrella research outpost.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion. “I didn’t know they had labs this far out from the mainland.”

“Neither did I, but ya learn something new every day.”

Eventually, the dingy hallways and platforms lead to another mechanical door that reveals another white hallway not unlike the ones you remember from Umbrella’s previous headquarters in Raccoon City. You don’t have much time to reminisce as you follow Jake to a door at the end of the hall.

The room you enter is somewhat dated. The equipment here looks like it came straight out of the 90’s, but with some modern updates in a few choice sections. Jake ignores all of that in favor of leading you to the other side of the room where a mechanical door and a keypad are waiting. The door is notably one of the only things in the room that’s been updated.

“Mind taking a crack at this Doc?”

Jake hands you a note with an Umbrella header on it:

Pierre if you’re reading this, I’ve changed the password to the specimen room. I know it impedes business to change it so frequently, but the boss insists on the highest level of security due to the nature of the special project. The new password is your namesake element on the periodic table. Just type in the atomic number and weight in that order. Don’t mess it up again. That damn alarm will lock everything down and Aimi nearly blew a gasket the last time I had to get the security key to disable it again.

“You brought me here for this? Seriously?” You look at Jake like a disappointed mother. Do schools not teach the manmade elements in chemistry anymore? In your mind, you think that Jake went a little overboard bringing someone with a PHD to solve a periodic table puzzle. Jake doesn’t react to your question. He just keeps up the cavalier attitude.

“So you can solve it.”

“You know Google exists, right?” You reply, deadpan.

“No service in the middle of the ocean. Are you going to help me out or not?”

You scoff at the comment, then hand the note back to him and stride to one of the bookshelves. “Yes. It’s Curium.” You thumb through the spines trying to find a chemistry book of some kind.

“But his name’s Pierre. You sure?”

You find a ratty chemistry book with university library stickers all over the spine. Bingo. You pull it out and flip through the back pages, finally finding what you were looking for: a periodic table.

“Pierre Curie and Marie Curie discovered the element. That’s the answer. Type in 96247.”

You snap the book shut and you hear Jake typing in the code on the door. Now that Jake’s errand is almost done, it’s time to get the hell out of Dodge. Or the ocean in this case.

“After you run your maintenance we need to find a radio, or a ride out of here. I don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere longer than I need to be.”

“I’m no travel agent, but I think that can be arranged.”

You turn to join him, but a logo on some papers scattered around on the desk by the bookshelf catches your eye; a Tricell logo. Your eyebrows scrunch together. Albert partnered with Tricell for the Uroboros project and the company has been defunct since Africa happened four years prior. Why is that logo here of all places?

You hear a beep behind you and a mechanical door sliding open with a soft hiss as you pour over the documents. They’re copies of internal documents relating to the development of the Africa strain of Plaga parasites with yellow highlights all over them. A large label that reads ‘G – U’ stuck on a keycard is blocking one of the notes so you move it to the side. More concerningly, the only things you see highlighted are locations of labs and sites of infection with handwritten margin notes in Kanji that you don’t understand.

“Hey uh, Doc?” Jake is calling you from inside the room that was unlocked.

“Hm?” You respond, still half-focusing on the Tricell documents.

“I don’t think these guys had limited options.”

A sense of dread starts to form in the back of your mind when Jake says that. You speed walk over to the now accessible room. It’s a large, white room with rows of what look like display cases. You see Jake looking through the glass and into display on the other side of it. You walk up next to him to look for yourself and your heart drops to your stomach when you see what he’s talking about.

On the other side of the glass, you see a complete family of Plaga parasite strains. As you walk down the aisle, you see the original strain from Spain, all the way to the newest strain that popped up in Edonia a couple years back. Although to your relief, you see that the Amber strain which allows the infected to have both strength and free will isn’t displayed.

You glance at the aisle behind the Plaga parasite display. You immediately recognize the familiar T-Virus series. It’s concerning how thorough the collection is. Even without reading the placards underneath each sample, you recognize the strain that caused the outbreak at the Spencer Mansion, the T-Abyss virus from a few years ago, a few different failed strands from the Marcus-Birkin projects, among dozens more. You feel your heart skip a beat when you see the T-VERONICA placard, but you relax when you see that the sample holder is empty.

“Doc? Talk to me what’re you thinking?”

Even with the display cases missing a few of the more powerful specimens, it was still the most comprehensive collection of viruses and parasites in a single place that you’d seen in your career.

“They nearly have the whole damn catalogue in here.” Your tone is grim. Samples as comprehensive as this can only spell something bad on the horizon, but you’re not too sure what.

“I don’t understand what their play is here.” You state, still walking along the T-Strain aisle and examining each sample. Your footsteps echo around the room from the grate flooring. Based on the setup, each one appears to be a live sample.

“I think I do. They’re trying to be a one stop shop for bioweapons and this is the showroom.” Jake spits in disgust.

At first glance, Jake’s observation appears correct. But upon closer examination, that conclusion doesn’t quite fit. You slowly walk along the aisle and look at Jake through the glass in the aisle opposite. He’s examining the strains in the G-Sample section, looking back and forth from the samples in front of him and his phone.

“I want to agree with you, but I don’t think that’s it.”

Jake stops and looks at you confused. “Why?”

“They don’t have nearly enough inventory. These are samples. An unusually comprehensive collection of samples, but there’s only one of each.”

Jake shrugs. “Maybe it’s somewhere else.”

Again, a logical conclusion that doesn’t quite fit. “Outside of this facility? Possible. Here? There would have to be at least a few dozen rooms like this to store everything properly.”

You stop walking.

“And logistically, it just doesn’t make sense. We’re practically in the middle of nowhere. Why would a business owner put their showroom in one of the most difficult to reach places on the planet? You would think they’d want to make it easy for the buyer to review product, as well as convenient for the owner to ship out that product. Someone wanting to be a one-stop-shop would be on the mainland.“

You pause, an icy feeling washing over you. The bag on your head during your transport here and the execution of your kidnappers suddenly makes a lot more sense.

“These people don’t want to be found.”

Jake’s eyes flick from his phone to your face. “So they’re working on something big. A new G-virus?”

You shift on your feet shaking your head while looking over the G-Virus samples. “Yes to the big project, no to the G. Whatever it is, it’s not down here.”

“You sure about that? This one’s missing.” Jake holds his phone up to the glass so you can see on the other side of the G-Sample row. Jake’s correct this time: this specific strain isn’t displayed. You tilt your head in confusion.

“That’s not a strand I recognize.” At first glance, you know it's an unusual strand of G-Virus. G-Viruses are normally green in color, but this one is a sickly pink.

Jake grunts, shaking his head and pocketing the phone. “It’s never that simple. Is it? An all-inclusive virus buffet and one of the only one that's missing is the one I need.”

Jake pulls out a pistol you didn’t know he had, checks the clip to make sure it’s fully loaded, then holds it down by his side as he strides out of the room.

“Where you headed?” You call after him.

“Main lab upstairs. I’ll come get ya after I’ve got the G-sample.” He answers over his shoulder.

“Absolutely not!” You reply in disbelief and Jake stops walking, sighing in annoyance. He can’t seriously think he can take on the army upstairs with just a pistol. You try to talk some sense into him.

“We need to find a radio and get the B.S.A.A. here. These people will kill you no questions asked if they see you. Plus, that handgun of yours isn’t going to cut it against their hardware.”

Jake shrugs his shoulders, unconcerned. “I’ve had worse odds.”

“That doesn’t make lone wolfing this any less stupid! There’s a base in Tokyo, we just need to find a way to contact them-”

You stop talking abruptly when you catch a glimpse of a dangerously familiar sample. The one that changed the course of your life for the worse. The one that your dead husband tried and failed to infect the planet with. The name UROBOROS is proudly displayed at the end of the G-Virus aisle in the back, nearly drowned out by the sheer number of G-Virus samples.

You hear Jake saying something to the effect of ‘I’ll be back before they even know I’m there’ but you’re not registering what he’s saying. Your vision has tunneled to only focus on that devil sample. All it takes is one slip up by a careless scientist to infect this whole place. You think back to the keycard in the other room by the Tricell papers; ‘G – U.’ G-Virus to Uroboros. This time can be different. You have the power and knowledge to stop this.

“Hey? Earth to Doc? You still with me over there?”

“That needs to be destroyed.” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you stare at the Uroboros sample. You keep your eyes on the sample for a few steps, then brush past Jake to rush into the other room to find supplies; some kind of glass beaker, metal garbage can, something to contain the damned thing when you burn it to ash.

As you begin nearly tearing the lab apart in your barely controlled frenzy, Jake steps back into the sample room to look at what has you so distressed.

“Uroboros? That’s the uh… it’s not a G-Virus is it?”

You open a cabinet and find a large glass beaker. You grab it and set it on the counter and keep looking for more supplies.

“Yes! Now less talking and more helping. There’s Bunsen burners here, so there has to be some matches-”

“Can't this wait? Is it really any worse than the other ones?”

You aggressively close some drawers as you turn back to Jake with a serious glare.

“Albert Wesker. Heard of him?” Your voice is low and controlled.

Jake’s face melts into a barely hidden look of disdain. “Yeah, I have.”

“He tried to use it to cleanse the world, as he put it. He spent years injecting innocent people with that and he was the only one who didn’t turn into a flesh-eating worm thing.”

You open more drawers and find a cleaning cabinet with a half full container of rubbing alcohol. You grab it, along with a pair of cleaning gloves, and set them next to the beaker. You start soaking random bits of scrap paper with the liquid and stuff it into the beaker.

“Not only that, he tried to launch that shit into the atmosphere with a deranged smile on his face. It nearly ended the world once and that’s not something I, or anyone, needs to deal with again.”

You put another splash of rubbing alcohol into the beaker for good measure then forcefully put the bottle on the table causing it to spill some of the liquid on the table. It doesn’t slow you down. You quickly put on the cleaning gloves and dig through the drawers around the lab looking for a lighter or matches. Smoking isn’t rare in Japan so one of those items must be here somewhere.

“So Wesker had special blood?” If you were paying closer attention to the way Jake said that, you would have easily picked up that he knew more than he was letting on. But you don’t. You’re too busy trying to get rid of a dormant threat sitting in the other room. You answer without thinking while opening more drawers by the bookshelf.

“Genetically, he was one in a trillion. But even with that, he still had to take doses of the virus periodically to keep it stable. All the more reason to nip this in the bud before it becomes a problem again.”

“You know a lot about this.” A statement of fact, not a question.

“Yeah, I do!” You exclaim dramatically as you slam a cabinet shut when there, once again, aren’t any matches. You’re so frustrated that Jake is asking so many questions and won’t just help you.

“You knew him.” Another statement of fact, not a question. His eyes are dissecting your every move now. The look vaguely reminds you of Albert and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Albert used to look at you like that when he wanted to know if you were lying or gauging your reaction to something he told you. You shake off the feeling. The Uroboros discovery is making you paranoid.

You sigh and shift on your feet, leaning back against the cabinet with your eyes on the ceiling. The scent of rubbing alcohol is strong in the silent room. You shift your eyes to Jake’s after a long moment. His expression is nearly unreadable, but there’s an underlying edge in his posture now. He knows. Not everything, but he’s catching on to why you’re so passionate about this. There’s no use lying about it.

“I knew him…well, okay? At least I thought I did before all the crazy. But right now we have more important things to do than rehash my history.”

You force yourself to tear away from Jake’s calculating gaze and resume your search.

“I nee-… we need matches. Can you just help me look please?”

You don’t hear a response behind you, and you think that Jake is going to keep asking you questions. But after you open a few more drawers you hear a rustle of fabric and a metallic tink.

“Use this.”

Your head whips over to Jake and a wave of relief washes over you. Then annoyance.

He’s holding a lighter.

He had that the whole damn time you were tearing through the lab looking for matches.

You decide it’s best to hold off on scolding him until after you get rid of the Uroboros sample. Instead, you take the lighter with a gruff thank you. You grab your supplies along with the ‘G - U’ keycard and head back into the sample room.

You enter the room with newfound determination. You couldn’t stop Uroboros on your own all those years ago, but this time it’s different. You’re stopping a disaster before it has a chance to start. You place your supplies on the floor next to the case, preparing to immediately plop the Uroboros sample into the beaker. In your peripheral vision, you notice Jake leaning against the doorframe, watching your every move.

You scan the card.

Instead of the glass sliding down into the base like you expected, it stops a quarter of the way down when a deafening alarm sounds overhead and Jake is forced off of the mechanical door when it reels shut. Before you can even call out to him, gas starts pouring into the room from the grates on the floor.

All senses of self-preservation leave you in this moment. Thousands of years of survival instinct telling you to run and claw at the door and scream for help is ignored because, once again, your thoughts are only consumed by the existence of the Uroboros sample. Possessed by only one thought: you can’t fail to stop this again. You couldn’t justify something as trivial as your own survival if it meant there was a sliver of a chance of something like Africa happening again.

You force yourself to focus, even though it’s getting so much more difficult with your mind starting to cloud from the gas. You hold your breath to prolong consciousness. There’s enough space between the glass and the edge of the case that you can squeeze your arm in and grab the damned sample. You can hear Jake banging on the door shouting your name, but his voice sounds so far away as you force the sample from its display rod and gracelessly sink to your knees.

Your hand feels unwieldy and heavy as you drop the sample into the glass beaker. Even more so as you try and fail to roll the lighter wheel fast enough to make a flame. You rip off a cleaning glove to get a better grip and you keep trying. You have to. This needs to work. You can’t fail again. You won’t fail again.

You pause to finally take a breath and force yourself not to cough from the downright bone numbing gas that’s still filling the room. Your vision is starting to blacken at the edges and your body slumps so much that you’re resting on your stomach, so you make a conscious effort to tighten your grip as hard as you can on the lighter and roll the wheel. A small flame erupts from the lighter. With a shaking hand you thrust it into the beaker and the alcohol-soaked kindling erupts into flame. You barely notice the sting of the flames against your hand when you retract it.

Everything feels heavy. You finally let your body resign to the gas and let your head rest on the ground. With each shallow breath, the darkness at the edge of your vision grows more and more prominent. You don’t hear Jake anymore, but you do hear indiscernible voices on the other side of the wall getting farther and farther away and loud pops. Gunfire? Or Jake banging on the door?

The last thing you remember seeing before the darkness overtakes your vision are blackened remains in a glass beaker and a pair of unfamiliar, polished shoes slowly walking towards you.

__________________________________

Thanks for reading!

Tag List: @killerwendigo

a/n 2: I really hate doing filler/transition chapters as a principle, but I promise that it's very necessary for what's coming. Chris x Reader is going to be on the backburner for a couple parts but I assure you he's coming back and it will feel rewarding when he does.

#resident evil fanfiction #jake muller #resident evil 6 #resident evil 6 spoilers #chris redfield x reader #not in this chapter though because PLOT #fanfiction #slow burn #no beta we die like men #The Wife the Lover and the Bastard Son

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