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wil-o-wispy · 4 months

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The Wife, the Lover and the Bastard Son - Part 2

Chris Redfield x FM! Reader

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

Synopsis: It's the morning after Chris Redfield took care of you and things are oddly... domestic?

Includes: MDNI - NSFW, fluff, banter, angst, oral (FM reader receiving), porn with plot, use of pet names (sweetheart, good girl, pretty girl, baby, gorgeous), minor reader injury from previous part, reference to drinking in the previous part. Reader is referred to as 'Doc' otherwise. Reader is the wife of (dead) Albert Wesker and is a former Umbrella scientist.

A/N: WOO this took so long to get out. I can't write linearly to save my life and my writer brain wanted to work on plot stuff taking place after this chapter. On the bright side the next few parts should get done quicker. Hopefully. This is also my first spicy writing thing so have fun!

wc: 6.5k+

The first thing you notice when you wake up the next morning is the pounding headache behind your eyes and a throbbing in your foot. You lift an arm over your face and groan, the cheery brightness of the morning sun still too much for your blurry eyes to properly accommodate to. For a few precious minutes, you just lay in bed trying to string together a coherent thought other than, ‘I’m never drinking whiskey again,’ because you know that promise won’t last the month.

Then it all comes back to you. The almost-bar fight. Chris driving you home. The broken glass. Chris comforting you. Bits and pieces of the previous night stitch themselves together and you are both relieved and embarrassed of its events.

It feels like a monumental weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Sure, the dirty looks would stay along with your reputation, but Chris Redfield doesn’t think you’re a monster. However, the relief is almost overshadowed by a creeping sense of embarrassment. You never show that kind of vulnerability in front of anyone. Not even Albert after the Mansion incident.

Despite the conflicting feelings, you’re thankful that Chris had the foresight to put you into your bed and tuck you in. Everything after crawling into Chris’ lap and crying your eyes out is hazy due to your alcohol consumption, but you do have a distinct memory of being lifted off the ground and carried by a pair of strong, warm and comforting arms past a broom propped up on the doorway to the kitchen.

The broom. The glass. Your foot. There’s still blood and glass in the foyer that you have to clean up.

With a groan, you roll out of bed, stretching to relieve some of the tightness in your muscles that accompanies a bad hangover. It’s at this point you realize you’re wearing a sweatshirt that you hadn’t worn the night before. Your heart stops in your chest until you lift the hem of it and see you’re still wearing the nice shirt you wore to your D.S.O. interview the day before.

Chris. Always the gentleman.

You take stock of what you’re wearing; oversized sweatshirt, nice shirt, nice pants, no socks, but a sizeable amount of gauze is on one foot. While you take stock of yourself and your surroundings, you also notice a couple aspirin and a sports drink on your bedside table that you know you didn’t have in the house last night. Chris cared both about your comfort and boundaries while intoxicated, as well as the aftermath of it. He even went out and bought you items to help with your hangover.

Another event to add to the overflowing list of reasons why you don’t deserve him.

Or do you? He doesn’t fault you for your dead husband’s actions. He goes to bat for you when the B.S.A.A., D.S.O., or any other anti-bioterrorism organization is up your ass. He listens when you need to vent and drink your sorrows away. He’s kind. He’s considerate. He’s a good man. He’s everything that Albert wasn’t.

Stop it.

You pop the aspirin in your mouth and wash it down with the sports drink, dismissing any other thoughts on how good Chris had been to you. Things in your life were already too complicated. No use in entertaining far-fetched fantasies. He’s got to be this considerate with anyone, right? You couldn’t recall a specific instance comparable to last night that would justify that thought, but you try to think of one as you strip off the clothes from the night before and throw on some clean loungewear. You opt to wear some sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

As you get dressed, you rediscover an offer letter that you’d forgotten to reject. Even though your last name gave you a reputation, numerous branches of the B.S.A.A. requested your transfer every year due to your expertise in bioweapons research. After all, who would be better at combatting these threats than someone who witnessed their creation and aftermath? This one was more tempting than most; an offer to work in B.S.A.A. Europe HQ in Germany, Head Researcher position, fully furnished apartment included and competitive salary.

You crumple the offer letter and toss it in the trash. Tempting, but stability is on the top of your list of priorities at the moment. An international move is the opposite of that. You go into your bathroom attached to your bedroom and do your morning routine, opting to worry about a shower later.

You go out into the hallway, hobbling a bit with the injured foot but staying upright without trouble. The aspirin is starting to kick in and you’re already feeling a bit better. You make a list in your head of things to get done before burying yourself in blankets on the couch; sweep up the glass, mop the foyer of the remaining blood, take a shower, make a greasy breakfast, binge watch something.

Your mental list is interrupted by sounds coming from your kitchen. Confused, you turn down the hall and see Chris’ car keys still on the table in the entryway. You also see the floor is devoid of glass, blood, and the medical supplies from the night before.

Chris hears you pad into the kitchen and flashes his signature grin as he turns bacon on your stove with a fork. There’s a plate with finished bacon pieces on a paper towel next to the stove, as well as two plates with toast.

“Morning Doc.”

“Morning. You stayed the night?” Your tone is cordial. It’s not accusatory because, oddly enough, you don’t mind Chris sleeping over. At any point before last night, you would have been miffed and probably would have given a speech arguing you could take care of yourself and that he had a lot of nerve spending the night considering your history. But Chris making you breakfast still stirs up that guilt of him doing more nice things for you to add on to the laundry list of favors he’d done for you over the years. But you can’t deny the smell of what he’s cooking makes your mouth water.

“Yeah, I took the couch. You had a lot to drink. I just wanted to make sure you woke up okay.”

You snort. “Right. You sure you weren’t just avoiding having to sleep in the barracks last night?”

Chris chuckles at your joke and holds his hands up in playful surrender. “You got me. Can’t pull the wool over your eyes.”

You return the smile and hobble next to Chris by the stove, leaning on the counter next to him just watching him cook. You have to make a conscious effort to focus on the food, and not to stare at Chris’ battle toned forearms for too long.

“Now I can accept you making sure I don’t choke on my own vomit, but this-” You gesture to the stove and the entryway, “-is crossing the line. You’re in my house. I’m supposed to take care of you. Not the other way around.”

“What? I can’t treat my host to breakfast and a cleaner house?” He’s still jovial when turns his attention back to the stove and turns the bacon.

“That’s reverse hospitality,” You quip.

“Then consider me a reverse guest,” Chris answers.

You let out an exasperated sigh and your body slumps. “Chris, seriously you didn’t have to do all that-”

“I wanted to.” Chris stops looking at the bacon in the pan and looks you in the eyes.

You two stare at each other in silence, gazes locked in a battle of wills.

“You don’t have to do everything yourself.” Chris says softly, with a hint of authority in his tone.

“I know that.” You bite back, challenging him.

Chris raises an eyebrow, and you see a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Do you?”

More silence. You let out another sigh and you break from his gaze to stare at the floor instead.

“You’ve already done more for me than I could ever hope to repay. I don’t need to owe you more favors for something like last night.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Bullshit.” You look back up at him in disbelief; mouth open and eyebrows knitted together.

“No bullshit. I’m serious.”

You open your mouth to argue more, but Chris shushes you and places a cup of hot tea in your hands before you can protest. You didn’t even notice it sitting next to the stove. You feel the comforting warmth of his fingers ghost over yours as he guides your hand to take hold of the mug handle.

“No bullshit, you have my word. Now sit down, rest that foot, enjoy your drink, and let me handle everything else.”

You open and close your mouth, trying to articulate a response. There’s not much you can say to argue against that, especially when his gentle touch is making your brain go haywire. The captain is a man of his word. Those perceptive eyes of his hold no hint of deception, only genuine kindness like you saw the night before. Not to mention there’s something undeniably attractive about him wanting to take care of you in such a gentle, authoritative manner. You relent and take a sip of tea trying to calm your racing heart.

“Thanks.”

Chris’ face lights up and he flashes another smile. “Thatta girl. How do you like your eggs?”

You try to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach when he says that. “I’m not picky, however you’re having them.” You push yourself off the counter, snatch a piece of bacon from the plate and hobble over to the barstool sitting area at the kitchen island behind Chris.

“Save some for your meal.” You hear Chris smiling as he says that.

“I’m making sure it’s crispy enough. Sue me.”

Your conversation goes on in that comfortable rhythm all throughout breakfast; casual conversation with witty remarks thrown in followed by a joke that starts the cycle all over again. Chris sits on the stool next to you, and you both enjoy the two plates of toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon that Chris had made.

“You’re going to spoil me at this rate.” You say with a grin.

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“It kind of is. You’re going to make me miss having you around to clean up my messes and make me food.” You eat your toast, keeping up the playful banter.

“And what if I am?” The way Chris says that doesn’t make it sound like he’s joking, but you brush it off and roll your eyes, munching on the last of your bacon. “I’d call your bluff.”

“Why do you think it’s a bluff?”

You sit there just looking at your fork for a beat, trying to think of the best way to phrase your thoughts. You can’t think of anything, but you turn your gaze back to Chris and answer him with a question. “Because why would you care if I miss you?”

“Because who wouldn’t want the attention of a woman like you?” Chris’ expression shifts from that kind expression you’re used to, to a more wistful and romantic one.

Your mouth goes dry and your heart races in your chest. It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. “People with half a brain and a shred of common sense.” The statement is said with your signature dry sense of humor, but there’s also an edge of something akin to a warning. It doesn’t deter Chris in the slightest.

“Ouch. At least I’ve got my looks going for me,” he quips with a smirk. It amazes you that he’s still joking about something you think is so serious. It makes you want to wipe that sexy smile right off his face. Whether it’s with a kiss or sharp words is still up for debate.

“Chris-” You warn sharply.

“Doc-” Chris says, pleadingly.

“No. It’s a bad idea. End of story.” Your tone comes out much gentler than you intend. You pick at the last of your food, not wanting to look at Chris and betray your true feelings that you’ve tried so hard to suppress over the years. He killed your husband. Your evil, narcissistic, psychopathic husband. Despite who Albert was, it felt like you would cross some sort of moral boundary you couldn’t come back from if you indulged in those thoughts. But the longer Chris looks at you with that wanting gaze, the less imposing that boundary becomes.

“You know me. I love bad ideas.” As Chris speaks in a low, romantic tone, your mind runs wild and your cheeks flush red with all the possible interpretations of his words.

You hear the barstool next to you squeak, Chris’ hand comes into your vision, rests delicately on your cheek, and tilts your head back towards him. His face is dangerously close to yours. You see every detail of his face; his dark hazel eyes, the small mole under his right eye, the stubble on his jaw, the subtle hair growth around his mouth and chin, and finally his lips.

You don’t know who leans in first, but one moment you’re committing Chris’ face to memory, and the next your lips are against his. Your eyes close and time stops. The kiss is slow, methodical and fills you with a pleasant warmth that makes your stomach flip and heart skip a beat.

You can’t remember the last time you had a kiss like this, and you don’t want to. All you want to do in this moment is experience everything Chris has to offer. Everything.

It feels like an eternity has passed when you both finally break for air. You breathe in a shaky breath. Shaky from how weak in the knees the kiss made you, as well as nervous energy from crossing that boundary you’d made for yourself. You just kissed the man who killed your husband and you liked it. Not only that, but that kiss stirred something lustful inside you that makes you want even more.

“Look at me pretty girl.” Chris whispers. His hand still holds the side of your face while his thumb caresses your cheekbone.

You open your eyes, and you see Chris smiling at you. It falters and switches into something much more concerned when he sees your conflicted look.

“We can stop if you want to. I can leave and we can agree this never happened if that’s what you want.” You can feel his hot breath on your face as he murmurs in a low tone.

Maybe it’s the residual feeling of safety due to the events of the night before, an accumulation of repressed want from years working alongside each other, or maybe it’s just the need to feel someone else’s loving embrace. Morality be damned. Maybe it’s the pounding of your heart drowning out all common sense, but you crave the man in front of you more than anything in the universe right now. Your next words come out in a wanting murmur.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

This time, it’s you that leans back in to kiss Chris’ incredulous expression, but he immediately melts back into your lips. Once it’s established that this is something you’re craving, Chris earnestly returns the enthusiasm. Sweet kisses morph into fervent tastes for more as your lips intertwine with Chris’. Tongues dance in a teasing duel for dominance that you are all too happy to lose just so you can feel how eager Chris is to feast on your sighs of pleasure. Bask in your shivers of ecstasy. Relish in your desperate pants for oxygen from him taking your breath away.

The only thing you can even comprehend with his inviting tongue intertwining with yours is that it’s not enough. You want more. You need more. More of his warmth, more of his lips, more of him. The heat that Chris awoke in you has grown from mere embers to a growing, starving flame that wants to savor and devour everything that’s yet to come.

It doesn’t take long to know Chris feels the exact same way. Committing your pleasure to memory with his hands and lips won’t do. With how far you were leaning into his embrace, you were halfway to touching his lap already, but Chris eagerly expediates the process. His hands abandon your cheek and neck to claim your hips and guide you to sit on his lap where you belong. You take a sharp intake of breath and clutch Chris’ shoulders for balance from the change in position, but Chris is quick to soothe your concerns while keeping his lips on any inch of your skin he can reach.

“Don’t worry baby I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

You reposition yourself on his lap so you feel more secure in Chris’ grasp, but you accidentally grind against his crotch. A deep groan is released from Chris’ lips and he kisses your skin with more fervor. Being positioned the way you are on his lap, it’s difficult not to notice the growing hardness underneath his jeans.

“All that for me?” You try to be sultry, but don’t do a good job of it because you can barely get any discernible words out with how hard you’re breathing.

“Have you seen yourself sweetheart?” Chris leaves wet kisses from your collarbone to your neck, then captures your lips in a ravenous kiss. “Fucking gorgeous with your cheeks all red like that…”

Chris lifts you up off his lap effortlessly and you gasp and hold onto his shoulders as he places you on the counter in front of him. Once you’re secure, his hands are quick to wander and caress everything he can reach; from your hips, to your ass, to your thighs, then hips, then ribs, lower back then repeating the pathing again. Eagerness and patience are at war with each other as he alternates between greedily clutching each soft feature and methodically caressing every one of your curves as if trying to commit them to memory.

You’re breathing heavily when he rips his lips away from yours and starts kissing you down your jaw to your throat. He feverishly leaves open mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin tenderly yet enthusiastically. You can tell he’s savoring every part of you, clearly eager to do more but wanting to enjoy every detail of your physique first. It takes no time at all for him to find the spots that make you squirm and pant in his embrace. When his teeth lightly graze your pulse point, your legs reflexively tighten around his waist, but you accidentally bump the barstool behind Chris with your injured foot with a loud clunk and curse. The throbbing in your foot is back with full force, making you wince. Worse, Chris pulls away from your neck and stares at you intensely with a worried look. Slightly flushed cheeks and labored breath.

“You alright?” He looks behind him and sees the scene of the crime, and lightly scoots the barstool a safe distance away with his foot. Chris moves to lean down and examine your foot, but you’re quick to grasp his face and lovingly bring it back to yours. You kiss Chris’ cheek and give him a reassuring smile.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” You lean back in to kiss Chris, ignoring the shooting pain from your injured foot and getting lost in the intoxicating taste of his lips. Chris’ worried expression melts away somewhat, but he still speaks lowly between breaks for air.

“You need to rest that foot on something.”

“Later,” You whisper, going back in to capture his lips again.

The captain slides one of his large, calloused hands on the back of your head and strokes the hair there, and you think you’ve convinced him to drop the subject. Oh how wrong you are.

In one moment, you’re getting lost in the feeling of Chris’ hands on the back of your head and shoulders, and the next Chris has pushed your plates to the side and laid you swiftly, but gently, on your back.

“Chris!” You whine as you try to sit up, but you’re stopped by a large hand putting weight on your ribcage and fleeting kisses down your neck and chest. His voice is muffled from how close his face is to your trembling body, but you hear him speak in that authoritative, husky voice again as he continues to kiss further down your chest. “Uh uh, you stay put.” You’re about to protest the change in position, wanting nothing more than to keep Chris’ lips on yours, but his lips on your inner thigh make your words die in your throat. Chris lightly sucks the area while his darkening gaze is honed in on your face.

“I meant it when I said you need to rest that foot…” Chris places another lingering kiss on your inner thigh slightly closer to your aching core. “…so be a good girl and put those pretty thighs over my shoulders.”

The effects of his words are immediate; blood rushes to your cheeks so quickly that you feel lightheaded, the heat in your abdomen that was kindled by his touch burns hotter, and your lips part in silent shock and anticipation of what he’ll do next. For once, your brain has short circuited, and you don’t have anything to say. All you can do is gape and nod as you hook your knee with the injured foot over his shoulder.

“Good. Now I want you to relax and let me take care of you. Okay?” The low vibrating timbre of his voice is so close to your aching clit that you arch your back and whine, nodding.

Chris continues to be a paradox of patience and eagerness as he coaxes more and more delicious sounds from you. His large hands greedily grasp the flesh of your hips and thighs, but don’t grope close enough to give you the stimulation you crave. His mouth worships the space between your thigh and groin but never dares venture further than the rolled-up edge of your night shorts where you’re clenching around nothing. He never stimulates what is begging to be loved underneath despite how much both of you crave it.

“Chris…please.” You beg, eyes clouded over with lust and need.

“Hmmmm… I don’t hear you say that a lot.” You can practically hear the shit eating smile in his voice as Chris keeps kissing you the same way as before, but one of his fingers teasingly traces the hem of your shorts. He’s right. You don’t. That little comment would infuriate you if the wetness between your thighs and throbbing clit weren’t on the top of the list of things on your mind right now. If you have to say please to get Chris to take care of you, you’ll relent and do it.

“Please just to-oooh!” Your desperate request is cut short by a moan being released from the back of your throat.

Chris keeps kissing the sensitive spots between your thighs, but two of his fingers have slipped under the edge of your shorts by the groin and is lightly rubbing the fabric over your engorged bundle of nerves. He experiments with different speeds and pressures until he finds the ones that make your back arch, eyes roll to the back of your head, and thighs close around his face. Just when you’re bucking your hips into his hand and you feel your pleasure building, you feel his fingers retreat.

“Chris!” You whine, body relaxing back into the counter but desperate for more of his touch.

“I know baby, I’ll take care of it.” Chris assures you as he hooks his fingers into the crotch of your shorts and underwear, pulling them to one side then practically diving into your dripping folds. His mouth is greedy when he’s finally between your thighs where you want him to be. Chris’ tongue laves at your entrance with long, languid strokes at first, but quickly devolves into him thrusting his tongue into your cunt so deeply that his nose is bumping your clit with each plunge of his tongue and you writhing and panting in pleasure as your climax quickly builds back to where Chris’ fingers left off.

He tries to be patient and draw it out for your sake, he really does, but you taste too good. Your moans and whimpers of ecstasy sound too pretty. The way you’re grabbing his forearm arm that’s caging your hips to the counter for dear life that so obviously signals how close you are is the biggest turn on. His mouth gorges on your release and he swears it’s his new favorite meal.

That starving flame in your abdomen that Chris has been feeding this whole time is so close to overtaking you, but you need more and Chris can sense this in how you tremble around him and desperate cries of his name tumble from your lips. He replaces his tongue with one of his fingers and he keeps up the same speed and intensity while his lips latch on to your clit, gently sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves and tongue making purposeful, salacious strokes that makes your face contort in delight.

You fall apart in mere moments. Your back arches as you feel your orgasm crash through you like a tidal wave and the pleasure is almost overwhelming. You cling to Chris’ forearm as you ride out the powerful sensation. Even with your thighs closing in around his head, his lips don’t let up their assault on your clit until you’re bordering on being overstimulated and trying to push his head away. Your thighs twitch from the aftermath, your cunt and clit throb from the greedy attention of Chris’ lovemaking, and you’re pretty sure you have breadcrumbs in your hair from the toast in the long forgotten breakfast that was made for you.

Even with all of that, it still leaves you with a warm, comfortable sense of pleasure and a blissfully hazy mind.

Chris gently laps up the mess between your folds with his tongue, both determined not to let a drop of you go to waste as well as to prolong your pleasure while you come back down to Earth. With a final quick kiss to your clit that makes your hips twitch into his mouth, Chris tenderly moves the crotch of your panties and shorts back over your pelvis. He uses the collar of his t-shirt to wipe your release from his chin, and licks his finger clean.

You feel boneless when he sits you up. You’re breathing is shallow, but slowly returning to normal when Chris brings you to his chest. You rest your head on his shoulder and lazily wrap your arms around his waist. His hand is under your shirt at your lower back, hand pressed against your spine and rubbing the area firmly while his other hand cradles your head at the back of your neck. For the first time in what feels like years, you feel wanted and loved. The warmth of his hands and arms as well as his breath in your ear feels so addicting. You don’t want him to let go.

“You still with me gorgeous?” He whispers into your ear.

“Yeah…” You mumble, smiling into Chris’ neck as he cuddles you. A deep chuckle vibrates in Chris’ chest, and he plants a soft kiss on your temple. Then another one on your cheekbone. Then another next to your ear…

You giggle and close your eyes, “Someone’s eager.”

“Hard not to be with such a beautiful woman in front of me.”

After a few more kisses Chris gently moves you off his shoulder so you can sit up and look at him with half lidded eyes. For a moment you just sit there blinking slowly at him relishing in his embrace, and he’s just smiling at your fucked out expression. His hand slides from the back of your next to your cheek. He rubs the skin there with his thumb for a moment, then leans in to kiss you properly.

Just when Chris is a breath away from tasting your lips, a jarring ringtone cracks through the air and brings you back to reality. It’s Chris’ phone, but he doesn’t make a move to answer it. He only pauses at the first ring and captures your lips in a sweet kiss on the second.

“You’re not going to answer that?”

“They’ll call back if it’s important.” Chris murmurs against your lips and goes back in for more, seemingly drunk off the taste of you and your affection as you chuckle and kiss him back. After a few more seconds, the phone stops ringing only for it to resume again almost immediately after.

“I guess it’s important.” You sigh against Chris’ lips when you reluctantly pull away. Chris lets out a frustrated breath and pulls back, still not making a move to answer the call. His gaze darts from your eyes to your lips like he’s thinking about ignoring it again. You know better. The captain is a busy and well-respected man. You’ll be damned if that gets ruined because he can’t keep his hands off you. You smile sympathetically at him and kiss his cheek.

“I’ll clean up while you take care of that.” You move to get off the counter, but Chris’ strong hands at your hips stop you.

“I told you that you need to rest your foot.”

“You can convince me to elevate it again after you deal with that soldier boy. But until then-” You lean to the side to grab Chris’ phone, remove his hand from your hip, then plop the phone in his palm. “-duty calls.” You reply cheekily, giving the speechless captain a smirk before lowering yourself off the counter to collect the plates.

Chris shakes his head, smiles, presses a button on his phone and lifts it to his ear. “Hello?” You turn on the sink and begin washing the plates. You hear Chris reply in a more serious tone, and turn out of the kitchen to take the call in the living room. “Yeah, this is Captain Redfield.” Over the sound of the water you can’t hear who’s on the other end, but you can gather this is a serious conversation. You just hope it isn’t notifying Chris of a new outbreak, or something else that would require his immediate attention. You’d hate for it to disrupt such a pleasurable morning.

After you finish washing the plates, you turn off the tap and begin drying them. The speaker on Chris’ phone isn’t loud by any means, but in the silence of your little house you can clearly hear the conversation in the living room from your kitchen sink. And on the other end of the call, you hear a familiar, grating voice.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. It doesn’t take a genius to know that it’s the D.S.O. agent from your interview the day before. From the sound of it, the agent still had a stick up his ass and seemed to be grilling Chris with the same intensity he was questioning you. You can make out the tinny voice of the D.S.O. agent, clearly not liking Chris’ answers. “You want to know what I think captain? I think you’ve been soft on her.”

You can hear the scowl in Chris’ voice when he answers the agent with the same level of disdain while also remaining professional. “And I think you’re being harsh because you’re trying to see things that aren’t there. Aren’t government agents supposed to practice due process? She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Her husband almost destroyed the world. You really expect me to just take her word that she didn’t help?”

“She has been nothing but cooperative since then. Every bit of information she’s given the B.S.A.A. has checked out. Plus, her work after the fact has prevented more outbreaks than I’m cleared to talk about. There is no reason to suspect her of bioterrorism.”

There’s silence on the other end of the call, then the sound of a throat being cleared. “Well captain I called to inform you that I need to bring in a third party to verify your claims. No hard feelings of course, but I do believe your history with her is clouding your judgement.”

A range of emotions hits you all at once when you hear that. Anger at this asshole for being thick in the head. Annoyance at the fact that you’ll probably have to do yet another pointless interview about Africa. Then finally, a paralyzing uneasiness at the agent’s implication against Chris. You’ve been too soft on her. Chris’ high professional opinion of you alone results in distrust.

“Yeah, you do that. We done here?” You hear Chris reply cooly, but the rest of the conversation in drowned out by your inner turmoil.

Chris being in close professional proximity to you already turns heads, and not in a good way. Sure the people who can understand your work respect your intellect and appreciate the help, but everyone else sees the shadow of Albert’s memory.

All is takes is someone breathing the name Wesker and the seed of distrust is already planted. Chris being in your corner alleviates some of that, albeit with bewildered looks and reluctant agreement.

You working with Chris is already unusual, but people respect him so they go along with the strange dynamic you two have. Would that respect remain if people knew you were fucking him? Would his team still follow him with full confidence into battle with no questions asked if they knew he was making you cry out his name after the mission was said and done? Would Chris still be sent on missions to clear up the loose ends of Umbrella’s misgivings if his superiors knew he was coming home to you, who literally slept with the enemy? In your mind, absolutely not.

How could you be so reckless? So selfish? You know you won’t be able to salvage any of Chris’ reputation by your own volition. Only taint it. In your mind, there can easily be a future where you and Chris are together, but the world slowly falls apart because of the distrust of you and the once infallible captain. True, Chris isn’t the B.S.A.A.’s only veteran, but he’s undoubtedly one of the most revered.

Before you can spiral further, two calloused hands grip your hips and a pair of lips tenderly kiss the space behind your ear. You can hear a smile and a suggestive mischievousness in Chris’ voice.

“I have to head out soon to handle a few things, but I’m going to make sure that foot is nice and elevated before I go.”

You heart flips and you can feel your cunt throb hearing his offer. You momentarily consider letting Chris have another taste of you, but instead you stick to your resolve. “You can head out now. This isn’t going to work out the way you think it will.”

You feel Chris’ grip on your hips soften and wait for his response. You can clearly envision him connecting the dots in his head of why you had a change of heart.

“Don’t let one asshole ruin something good for you.” Chris’ voice is soft, soothing. Pleading. One of his hands leaves your hips and tries to lace itself on top of your hand gripping the sink. You snatch your hand back and move away from his addictive embrace so there is an appropriate amount of space between you two. Your voice is serious and even. You look at Chris head on. His previously captivating eyes are confused.

“That’s not the point. You are so lucky people look up to you. I’m not going to ruin that by entertaining this.”

“I think that’s a joint decision-” Chris starts, but you’re quick to shut him down.

“No. You don’t get a say in this. You need to go, and we are going to forget today even happened.”

“Doc, that’s just one agent-”

“Among dozens more who think what he’s thinking but keep their opinions to themselves, so they don’t speak out against the B.S.A.A.’s golden boy.”

Chris looks like he's carefully picking his next words but you speak out before he has the chance to form a compelling argument. “I refuse to drag you down to my level. End of discussion. Leave.”

Chris is standing a few paces away from you next to the sink, still looking like he wants to keep insisting on a potential partnership that you know is doomed to fail. Your shoulders slump and you try a different tactic.

“I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I changed my mind. I don’t want you here right now. Please respect that.”

Chris processes your words. He nods his head and heads to the door. “Alright.”

You see him put his hand on his keys on the entryway table, but he doesn’t pick them up. His wanting eyes dart over to you one more time while you refuse to meet his gaze.

“I’ll check in on you next week. Do you need me to get your car picked up?”

Your car is still broken down in the parking lot of the bar from the night before. You sigh in frustration. “Thank you for reminding me. I’ll handle it. Drive safe.”

You can’t look at the front door. You’re not too sure if it would happen, but you don’t want to risk your resolve crumbling if you get a glimpse of Chris’ face. His infuriatingly kind, tempting face.

After a long pause, you finally hear Chris pick up his keys in the entryway and the front door open. “Keep that foot elevated, will ya Doc?”

“Will do.”

Another long pause, and you hear the front door mercifully close. A moment after, an engine starting up, and a large vehicle driving away.

In the silence of your kitchen, solitary living suddenly feels suffocating. Your mind is still racing. Even after being pushed away minutes after eating you out, Chris still wants to do things for you and it makes your heart ache. As strong as your resolve is right now, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to hold out and it terrifies you.

You need distance. Not just emotionally. Physical distance. You know the solution immediately.

In a matter of minutes, you dig out the offer letter from the trash and call the number on the header. When someone finally answers, you’re cordial. Calm.

“Hello, this is Dr. Wesker. I’m calling to learn more about your transfer offer.”

In the span of an hour, your escape plan is set. Europe HQ has booked you on a red eye flight to Germany for later that evening, a work visa is expedited, your new apartment keys are waiting for you across the globe, and you're throwing everything you can't replace in Germany into a suitcase without much throught for organization.

They were surprised to hear you wanted to transfer so quickly, but they were quick to accommodate your reasonable requests. And when they asked if Captain Redfield would still be checking in with you, they were more than understanding about you wanting a local agent to look after you.

Chris Redfield always tries to save everyone.

It’s your turn to make sure you save him from yourself.

_______________________________

Thanks for reading!

#chris redfield x reader smut #chris redfield x reader #resident evil fanfiction #reader is the wife of (dead) albert wesker #reader is a former umbrella scientist #chris redfield #albert wesker #the Wife the Lover and the Bastard Son #angst #no use of y/n #domestic fluff #frenemies to lovers #no beta we die like men

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gothghostiie · 5 months

Note

angst idea with wesker poo

so y'know how in dbd there are characters from different universes? Like Cheryl from sh and Leon from dbd

What if Wesker fell in love with someone from a different universe? Utterly head over heels madly in love, and the reader did the same.

But I'm pretty sure the devs confirmed it (I can't remember where but I know I've heard this) that everyone eventually escapes the realm and goes back to their own realitys. HE AND HIS DARLING WOULD BE SEPARATED FOREVE

HED BE SO HEARTBROKEN, HIS LOVE IS GONE

:((((

RAAHHHHHH i love some good old angst

wesker is fucking DEVASTATED. like wdym he cant see the love of his life anymore???

but knowing wesker he would do anything to see them again, so he just goes mad scientist and starts researching and building a machine that can send him to his lovers universe, no matter how long it takes.

if he doesnt know what universe they're from he will also look for them in every goddamn universe, he doesn't care. even if he has to destroy each and every single one he will find them.

#wesker just has to shift smh #gothghostiie #ask ghostiie #albert wesker #resident evil #dead by daylight #dbd #wesker #albert wesker x reader #angst

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unanimousgolddd · 1 year

Text

"You're alright. I got you."

I'm trying to break my writers block, so here's this short little fic. I also am doing requests. This is also posted on my ao3 acc

TW: angst w/fluff?, Wesker's a bit oc, made up character, Reader is a assistant scientist working for Wesker, GN! Reader

Summary: When returning back to Wesker's lab, another scientist "accidentally" spills chemicals onto Reader. Trying to not burden Dr. Wesker, Reader ends up worrying the blonde scientist.

Art made by SilverSerpentA1 on DeviantArt

It was already a rough day, the new security had wasted 10 minutes at the entry of the underground labs. Saying "that I need to show that I was an employee." Then when I got to my desk, which was near Dr. Wesker's, he scolded me for being 15 minutes late. Sure I wanted to reply with a snarky remark, but that would only get me in more trouble.

But it only got worse, Dr. Wesker had ordered me to go print files from the latest Tyrant experiment and when I came to put them on his desk, Dr. Maria spilled chemicals over me.

Dr. Maria, said that she "accidentally" spilled them on me.

"I'm so sorry!" Maria said, "I wasn't watching where I was going."

I grimaced.

"Thanks for the bath, Dr. Maria..." I sighed.

"Please forgive me," She said, before walking off with the container that once had liquid in.

I shook my head, I never liked Maria. She would always do something to me when she had the chance. She does this because I was promoted to Dr. Wesker's assistant. She is very petty for someone in such good position.

I started to feel a burn sensation on my neck, face, and stomach. I quickly ran to the nearest bathroom, this was not good.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, covered in this pick liquid. Quickly taking off the lab coat, I threw it in the contamination bin. I took off my long sleeve shirt, grimacing how the texture felt.

Whatever the chemicals were, it was causing my skin to burn and it quickly grew red in places where the liquid touched.

I ran my hands under the faucet, and splashed water onto my face. Then grabbing paper towels, I wet them and cleaned myself the best I could.

I only had five more minutes until I would have to return to the lab.

The water was cold, and help slow the irritation. It no longer burned but I looked extremely red. Sighing, I took out an extra shirt and lab coat that was in the closet.

The shirt was a little big but it would have to do. I walk out the bathroom and headed to Wesker's office, preparing to be scolded for being late again.

I opened the door and Dr. Wesker stood at his desk, going over files.

"You're back," He said without looking, "I was wondering when you would get here."

He finally looked up, and he didn't seem happy.

"I'm sorry, I had to take care of something... I promise it won't happen again."

He sighed.

"Dr. Maria gave me the files... I recall assigning you to give them to me." He looked at me.

That's what she did. Spilled the chemicals on me just to give him the files. She is petty. Very petty.

"I'm sorry, I-"

I started to get an itch all over my body.

"I... I knew I dropped them somewhere-"

I started scratching my neck and stomach. By now, I knew I was red and irritated.

"Dr?"

Wesker started walking towards me, he pulled gloves out his pockets and put them on. His eyebrow slightly twitched.

"Come here," He ordered.

I did what he asked, and moved closer to him, still scratching my body. Once I was closer, he moved my hands from my neck, and observed my skin.

I felt hot under his gaze, or maybe that was the side effects of the chemical.

"Come," He moved away, walking to the lab.

I quickly followed, trying to resist the urge to scratch. The burn that I had earlier, came back. So now, not only was my skin red, itchy, it was also burning. Tears started to fill my eyes, but I blinked rapidly to stop myself from crying.

He pointed to one of the lab beds, and shined a light on my skin.

"Is it anywhere else?" He asked, looking in directly in my eyes.

"Yeah, m-my stomach." I said, shakily.

He gestured to take off my lab coat and lift my shirt. I took off the coat. He tossed the coat in a bin. I sat with my shirt lifted to my chest, slightly embarrassed. He didn't seem fazed, gently touching and looking at my stomach and neck.

"Hmm..."

I hissed, the burn started to increase, and I was on the brink of sobbing. I closed my eyes, embarrassed and in pain. I could here him sigh and rummage around the room.

"I believe you have side effects from poison ivy. But they're amplified..." He said, somewhere around the room.

"You're lucky, we have an antidote..."

I slowly opened my eyes, Wesker held a syringe that had a clear liquid in. I groaned, my skin felt like I was getting burned alive.

"Shh, I got you. You're alright dearheart." He said, obviously noticing my discomfort.

I felt a prick on my neck as Wesker held me. Slowly the burning and itching ceased. As it stopped, I had tears going down my cheeks. Wesker lightly wiped them away, the gloves he had on where now in the trash bin.

I cling onto him, like how a child would to their mother, it was unprofessional to do that, but I didn't care.

"You're alright. I got you," He said, gently moving his arms.

#albert wesker #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #light angst #fluff #writers block #i hate writers block

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nekrosdolly · 6 months

Text

rotted

a month after the s.t.a.r.s incident and wesker's timely disappearance leaves you by yourself on the fateful day of the raccoon city incident.

cw; graphic depictions of gore and eating flesh, zombies (obviously), body horror, gun violence (referenced and actual), major character death (you're already dead).

a/n; you're married to wesker, this follows the canon timeline.

october 1st, 1998. the day of the sterilization of raccoon city. your last day alive.

alive as can be, that is.

your flesh rots off your body. the t-virus runs rampant in your veins, leaving you brainless and very, very contagious. your bite is a mark of death on the living. and yet as fast as they run, you catch up.

you rip flesh from bone, unable to register the screams of the living. nothing in your body functions properly anymore.

and it's all his fault. your beloved's fault. he released the virus in the arklay mountains, but he had no clue you'd be among the first to get infected. when discovered, you got locked in your apartment with the doors and windows boarded up.

he finds out too late- a last minute trip to raccoon city to get you out before they sterilize the entirety of arklay county. you're already dead. he's been so irresponsible with you. you lie on your side on the cold linoleum floor of your kitchen, blood draining from you to form a large dark puddle.

minutes. he has minutes with your corpse before you begin to twitch and convulse with the false hope of life. he doesn't know what to do. he can't just put you down- that's not right. you're not some animal- some thing to discard like trash. he can't-

your corpse emits a low groan. your irises are drained of all color as you sit up, bullet holes in your chest from someone trying to defend themself. their corpse lies not far from yours, partially eaten. blood slathered on your lips from their wounds, their gun still in their hand.

"dove," he starts, voice quiet and unwavering. nothing feels quite real for albert in the moment. the smell of death is everywhere, the theme itself overwhelming in your tiny apartment. he looks around your ruined apartment- blood on the walls, obvious signs of struggle that came from you, then your victim.

his sense of urgency returns. he has to leave unless he wants to die here, alongside you- which he only considers for a moment. he rushes to your room, relieved to find it mostly intact and finds a tote bag you kept around, though it mostly went unused. an afterthought, like you were. he grabs your perfume, the bottle half empty and somewhat old, and places it in the tote bag amongst other things that might contain traces of your dna- your hairbrush, your toothbrush, even dirty clothes from your hamper. he's trying to get keepsakes, to contain his memories of you in items you once owned. the last item he takes from your room is a framed photo of you two together.

he doesn't bother using the front entrance. you've likely gotten up and started to wander around, hungry for flesh to feed on, and he refuses to be a snack for the undead even if it is you. as he climbs onto the fire escape, ripping the wooden boards out of the way, your corpse pushes the door to your room open.

"a…l…" you groan. he can't take this. seeing you mangled and rotted, your lips practically melting off of your face. reluctantly, he takes out his gun and checks the chamber. he turns the safety off and cocks the gun before shooting you squarely in the head, grey matter splatting on the hallway wall behind you. you stumble back and go stiff when you really, actually die.

your little life, gone. the fires of the city burn hot and albert really, really doesn't want to leave you here again. how could he do that to you the first time? you were supposed to be the love of his life. he takes a final glance around your room from the fire escape, your wedding band glimmering on the nightstand.

he curses himself as he hurries back inside to grab it, sparing you another wistful glance as he slips it in his pocket and finally leaves your apartment for good.

luckily for him, he makes it out before the sterilization bomb ever hits. he has the next eleven years planned out perfectly in his mind and the absence of you has already started to wear at him.

he goes to rockfort island for the t-veronica virus and brings your things with him. everywhere he goes, so does your stuff. truthfully, before running into chris and claire, he had been moping. grieving. he slept with a shirt of yours pressed to his nose, your wedding ring on a chain around his neck. he keeps your toothbrush beside his. to say he missed you, and still does, is an understatement.

he should have died with you.

#angst #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡#bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#albert wesker angst #albert wesker fanfic #body horror tw #gun tw #writing #resident evil

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lambinarmor · 2 years

Text

✨repercussions✨

#don’t 👏 make 👏jill 👏 cry #I promised this would make up for the angst #drawing wesker in that thing cured me of all ailments #also I couldn’t find a good screenshot but lmao this is meant to be badham preschool #when I pictures this in my mind Wesker fully forced himself into the car but as I was drawing that I realized how unrealistic that was HAHA #also the car looks SO SAD WITH WESKER IN IT LMAO #anyway congratulations you are all free from me for the next week #later 👋#my art #Wesker #albert wesker #jill valentine #re #resident evil #dbd #dead by daylight

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goofyahhcats · 9 months

Text

Hold the Line

Rating: E

Re5!Chris Redfield / Gn!AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Angst if you squint, Injury, Violence (not related to smut), p in v action, Gn reader, reader is afab, reader usually wears a bra, use of sweetheart, baby, etc.

Summary: After being injured in the battle against Albert Wesker, you find yourself making stupid decisions. How can you face Chris after what you've done? He seems to be avoiding you. Then again, who wants to get chewed out by their coworkers? You can't help but notice a glint in his eye. It's just your imagination, right?

Word count: 3.8k

A03 link here:

Took some creative liberties with the end of/post re5 ignore that

Burning alive inside of a fiery volcano was not exactly your preferred way to go. The heat and smoke had forced their way inside of your throat hours ago, leaving you teary-eyed and gasping for air. Your eyes, open wide and wild with panic passing back and forth between the rocky landscape and the red and bubbling abyss. You watched in horror as the thing that was once your Captain writhed and screamed as he flung one of his many-tentacled appendages toward you. Scrambling in the other direction, you sprinted towards any open path that wasn’t obscured by lava or crumbling to pieces. Your boots thudded over the rough terrain with an unpleasant rhythm. A stark reminder of an unfortunate tumble you had recently landing you directly on your ankle.

You focused on keeping your breathing steady as you stumbled as fast as you could away from Wesker. Who, after tossing a quick look over your shoulder, was gaining rapidly. A mass of Uroboros shot by you, just barely missing your arm and instead making contact with the floor in front of you. Crumbling away and sizzling as it contacted the lava, the stone of the once angled slope ahead now resembled more of a solid brick wall. Your steps slowed and came to a shaky stop as you stared unblinking at the end of the path. Horrified, you cringed as you heard Wesker’s maniacal laughter seeping between the loud bubbling of the active volcano.

You turned, horrified, as he inched closer and closer towards you. His face wore a grin of satisfaction. Bright red and cat-like eyes alight with the fire of the hunt. Suddenly, his eyes locked somewhere above your head. His grin faded into a snarl as you heard a deep and loud voice scream your name.

“Grab on!” Chris’ large hand extended into view as you whipped around, jumping and gripping him as hard as you could. He almost effortlessly lifted you onto the ledge you had been trying to reach. Biceps and shoulders turning and flexing as he shoved you behind him.

“Go! Now!”

Chris lets a few bullets fly from over his shoulder as a strong hand finds the small of your back and pushes you forward and away from the amalgamation that once was Albert Wesker.

“We gotta get out of here!” Chris called, pulling you behind a boulder to avoid another attack from Wesker.

You stumbled, catching the side of the rockface to hold yourself up. You felt a hot and searing pain flare up from the base of your leg. Shit.

Chris noticed your pained expression, “Hey, what’s wrong?” A gloved hand reached your shoulder, turning your upper body to face him.

“It’s my ankle,” you grimaced, “Twisted it earlier when I was running.”

Chris’ eyes flooded with concern, “Shit, can you walk?”

You tentatively placed your foot down and put a bit of weight on it. The searing pain returned and you quickly withdrew your foot.

“It’s no good,” you rasp, shaking your head.

“Here, I’ll carry you,” Chris rumbled as he reached his hands under your shoulders and legs. You protested slightly but quickly shut your mouth as Chris took off in the direction of another alcove. You heard Wesker shriek as Sheva bombarded him with a barrage of bullets. Chris tucked behind the rocks and looked around, leaning against the wall for support. His breathing was hot, ghosting across your face in waves in time with the rise and fall of his chest. Sweat beaded over his forehead as he watched Sheva duel with Wesker.

“The helicopter should be here soon,” he mumbles, eyebrows knit in thought and frustration.

“Just leave me here,” you look up at him sympathetically, “I’m no use to you two down there if I can’t even walk.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Chris’ dark eyes hold contact with yours. The steadiness of his voice surprises you. This was the Chris Redfield you knew.

“But-”

“No!” Chris yells. You feel his hands tighten and release around your sides as the spark of anger in his eyes slowly fades away. “I’m not losing another one.” His voice is once again steady, But his eyes betray his stoic expression. Tired, sad, and angry. For a brief moment, his eyes flood you with an emotion so intense you can hardly think straight. You feel warm inside, and you smile gently.

“I’m good with a rifle. Tell Jill to pick me up,” you hold his gaze as he drops his head, screwing his eyes shut and letting out a shuddering sigh.

“I can’t let you do that,” he looks back down at you.

Suddenly, you are lifted into the air again. Chris pants as he brings his legs up to speed again, running across the volcano. Wesker and Sheva come into view. You breathe out gratefully that your friend is still alive. You feel Chris’ breath hitch as the full scene is revealed, however. Wesker has Sheva’s neck in a tentacled grasp. Her legs kick as she squirms in an attempt to fight back. You hear her gasp for air and struggle to breathe. Wesker smirks psychotically at her weak display of resistance.

“Chris-”

“I know!” His eyebrows are tightly knit, and he looks down at you and back up at Sheva. Taking initiative, you wrestle yourself out of his grip.

“No,” Chris starts but returns his gaze to Sheva as Wesker drops her to the floor, laughing as he cages her in between him and the lava.

He looks back at you, surprised to find your eyes filled with cold hard determination. Your rifle was positioned in your hands.

“Go,” you state. Nodding towards Sheva, “I’ll be ok. Help her.”

A moment's hesitation, but you see his eyes harden again, “Alright. I trust you.”He turns away.

Suddenly, you are overcome with a rush of emotions. Worry. Want. Need. Before you know it, you are hobbling on one leg and grabbing at his bicep for support. Chris stares at you, bewildered, before you drag his head forward by the vest. Your lips meet for a brief moment. Seconds, maybe. His arm cards through your hair and he holds you close. You feel that warm feeling spread through your body again before it is ripped away as you pull from the kiss.

“In case we don’t see each other again,” your expression is somber, patting him roughly on the shoulder and giving him a slight push in the right direction. He takes two staggering steps forward, looking back at you before his expression tightens. He nods and charges off towards Sheva and Wesker.

The rest of the night is a blur. Jill arrives in the helicopter, just in the nick of time. They swing over to retrieve you, and you watch as Chris and Sheva blast Wesker to pieces. You all sit back as the helicopter flies away, the volcano retreating into the distance. The ride is silent, but you occasionally can feel Chris’ hot gaze on your back. Your hands brush his as you exit the helicopter back on base.

You don’t talk to Chris for a whole month. You had been too engrossed in your medical status - doctors confirming that you had fractured your ankle - and had been bedridden for weeks. Your hospital had denied you visitation, instead putting you in trauma counseling. You didn’t need the therapy, this was the fault of the BSAA’s shitty cover story, claiming that a violent house fire caused you to fall a few flights of stairs, losing all of your roommates and extended family in the process. Those roommates and extended family were covers for the deaths of the other members of Bravo and Delta Team, who had lost their lives in battle. Of course, the BSAA only told this story to the general masses and the hospital. The details - although as vague as possible - were disclosed to the families of the deceased. After your counseling, you endured a few more weeks of physical therapy and were now happily on your own two feet once again.

You reentered the BSAA headquarters for the first time in what seemed to be forever and were greeted by many astonished coworkers. You smiled and waved, giving gratitude towards all of the well wishes that you received. In reality, you had been scanning the crowd for a familiar face and a brown tuft of hair. You couldn’t find Chris anywhere.

You became a bit frantic, eyes looking from face to face to no avail. At some point, you excused yourself and rushed through the compound. Twisting and turning through the corridors, you eventually come face to face with a strong wooden door. The engraving read, ‘C. REDFIELD’. You raised your fist and knocked one, twice, three times, before you heard a muffled, “Coming,” and some shuffling from within.

You took in his figure when he opened the door. Once broad and proud shoulders tired and hunched. His arms remained built and impressive, but you could feel the weight they carried as they dangled loosely by his sides. His face was scruffy as if he hadn’t shaved in a while. Although you silently admitted it was a good look for him. His hair was considerably longer, and the quiff in front no longer stood at attention and instead lay half up half down in a feeble attempt. He had heavy eyebags, which encircled his thick eyelashes and lidded gaze.

“Chris,” you shift on your feet nervously, unsure of whether to run away or wrap your arms around him.

A low mumble of your name cascades between his lips. His right arm twitches upward as if to touch you, grab you, hold you close, but then slowly returns to its initial position.

You stand in silence for a few moments, taking each other in with thousand-yard stares. A spark of something, you aren’t sure what exactly, fills Chris’ eyes. He takes a step back. Gesturing to his office, “Come in.”

You walk in and take in the familiar surroundings. This is not the first time you’ve been inside of his office. He always kept it surprisingly tidy, but it always had a comfortable and lived-in feeling to it. However, now you notice trash on the ground. Cups upon cups of coffee are scattered about. On the desk, on the floor, and in the trash can.

Chris takes a seat in his desk chair and you sit on one of the two chairs facing his desk. The quiet was deafening. Chris rummaged through his desk, avoiding your gaze. You open your mouth to speak, say anything to break the silence that was hanging over the two of you like a wet blanket. Chris beat you to it, haphazardly tossing a wad of papers into your lap.

“Need you to file a mission report,” he was speaking in his professional voice. His inflection read This is strictly business, nothing more. You picked up the papers and flipped through them. Nothing caught your eye. You raised your head to find that Chris was already looking at you. His eyes bore into yours as if he was searching for something. You nod, going to stand, to leave, to get away from the warm blossoming feeling. He doesn’t protest. Your hand reaches the doorknob before you are halted by his voice, gravelly and tired.

“What was that?”

You turn to face him, “What?”

“Wesker. The volcano. You know what I’m talking about.” Chris’ eyes catch yours once again.

Oh.

You are flooded again with that familiar feeling. You hate it. His lips had felt so tender, so soft. You felt the need to run to him. Wrap your arms around him, and tell him everything is going to be alright.

“What about it do you want to know?” your voice is quiet, feeling almost cornered by his gaze.

Chris sighs and drags his hand over his face. His eyes break contact and stare at the ceiling.

“We need to talk,” he mumbles.

“About-”

“Everything.” his voice rises slightly, and he stands up. He makes his way towards you and halts. You can feel your heartbeat thundering in your ears. He was so close. You could practically count each scar and blemish that decorated his upper body. You longed to trace your fingers over them. To soothe the aches that he must be feeling.

Chris’ hand reaches over yours, and clasps around your right hand, still resting on the doorknob. You tense up as Chris gently turns the handle and pushes the door open. The knob swings away, but his hand remains on yours.

“Meet me at my place tonight,” his hand slowly retracts, as if he just now realized what he had done.

“We need to talk,” he repeats.

You nod in reply, your throat too dry and your voice too shaky to respond. You stay staring at him for a moment, before turning and leaving his office.

You finish your BSAA duties quickly, rushing home and almost stumbling on your way to the shower to clean yourself up. Only once you had finished getting dressed and were slipping on your shoes did the reality of the situation hit you. Your rushed movements slowed as the anxiety set in. You felt the pit at the bottom of your stomach only grow as your car neared Chris’ apartment building. You made your way up the stairs, practically sick with the idea of actually confronting your feelings.

You raised a fist and knocked only once at his door before it opened. Inside stood the same Chris that you had met this morning, only now in a comfortable white shirt and gray sweatpants. He steps backward, and you walk in as he shuts the door behind you. You look around his modest but homey apartment.

Just like his office, you reminisce. Smiling slightly to yourself as you walked further into the simple living room. Chris takes a few long strides to his couch and sits down. He takes a beer he seems to have placed on the table previously and cracks it open. As you sit, you notice he had put out one for you too. You take it graciously and take a sip.

Chris turns to you, “So, about what happened-”

“I am so sorry Chris. I overstepped. I really shouldn’t have let my feelings get in the way of work, I-”

“Stop.” Chris gently rests a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

“No! But, it was so unprofessional of me..!” your hands flail about as you talk, words tumbling from your mouth as the coil inside of you unravels faster than you could keep up, “Sheva could have died and I- I was just being… selfish,” You exhale at that last word and look up into Chris’ dark eyes. For the first time in months, weeks, or years, you see a smile spread across his face. It crinkles the corners of his eyes up, and you feel as though you will never see anything as beautiful ever again.

“Sweetheart,” it falls gracefully between his lips as he talks, the other hand coming up to brush a knuckle along your jawline, You feel your face heat up.

“Chris, listen-”

Chris shuts you up by pressing his lips against yours. You let out a muffled squeak in response. It was all passion, Want. Need. His arms wrapped themselves tightly around you and you reciprocated. Fingers finding their way into his hair, alternating between stroking and pulling. He groaned into your mouth and swiped his tongue across your lips. You obliged. His tongue buried against yours as you suddenly found yourself leaning back against the cushions.

The warm feeling is everywhere. Hot and heavy. But this time, you didn’t want to back down. You needed more.

One of your hands took a detour from his hair and began exploring his expanses of muscle. His biceps flexed on instinct as you came into contact with them. You traced up and down the curve of his elbow as he kissed you harder.

He broke away for air for only a split second before diving into you again. You felt and heard him audibly shudder as your wandering hand found the edge of his shirt. He broke away, face flushed.

“Are you sure?” It was quiet, almost difficult to hear. You nodded.

Chris cupped your face with his hand, “Need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you whispered, wetness pooling in your pants as he quickly pulled up his top. You were only allowed to stare for a moment before he captured your lips in his again. Instead, you opted to see with your hand, which traveled over every bump, bruise, scar, and muscle it could find. He groaned and fisted a hand in your t-shirt. You pushed his chest away and broke the kiss, hot breaths filling the silence of his living room as you fumbled with your shirt, exposing your chest to Chris.

“Fuck, no bra?” he growled against your ear as he began to grope and explore your body just as you had his.

You let out a small giggle, “Nope, didn’t feel like one today,” you gasped as he gripped onto your sides, making contact with the top of your pants.

He smirks, “Shouldn’t feel like wearing one more often, then. Fuck,” he stares down at your chest, “I’ve been missing out.”

His mouth catches yours and you pull him down flush against you. You can feel his sizeable bulge against your thigh, which only deepens the wetness pooling in your underwear.

With a surge of confidence, your hand reaches between the two of you and palms Chris through his sweatpants. He lets out a low and shuddering moan at the feeling. You fumble with his waistband before he pulls it down himself. His boxers come down with them and you are left with the feeling of his cock springing against your stomach. You swallow heavily as you stare. He was long and thick. You gripped him and stroked once experimentally. He let out a breath and hissed as you slid your thumb over the head. You slid your hands up and down his shaft before he grabbed your wrist.

“Let me take care of you first,” he whispered. In a flash, your pants and panties had been removed, exposing your glistening cunt to the world. Chris groaned at the sight. He experimentally slid a finger between your folds. Your hips bucked upwards at the feeling, a noise escaped your lips that you didn’t know had been there.

Chris raises his finger and chuckles, “All for me?” he presses the finger to your lips. You gently allow him inside and clean him off with your tongue. He takes his finger away and returns it to your folds. One finds its way to your slit and strokes over and around the opening, while another finds your clit. Both fingers circle for a moment until you grow desperate, rocking your hips against him.

“Chris.. don't be such a tease,” you say between each rock of your hips. Your hands find purchase on his broad shoulders. He allows you to rock for a little while. Simply admiring you with a soft look on his face.

“Chris, please,” you whine. He groans, dipping one finger inside of you. You moaned louder than you had meant to as he began to thrust his finger back and forth. The other finger rubs circles over your clit as you pull him down towards you for another kiss. He kisses you passionately, bordering on rough as you whimper into his mouth. You can feel his resolve cracking the more your tongues and lips meet. His fingers speed up until he quickly rips them away from you. He breaks the kiss, staying close to your face. His eyes burn with desire.

“Tell me you need me,” he growls low, one of his fingers returning to your folds. You start to respond but let out a choked moan as he tugs at your clit.

“Tell me you fucking need me,” Chris’ eyes flash “Because I've always needed you.”

“Fuck… Chris, I need you..! I need you right now, please just-”

You are cut off by his cock sliding itself into you, and you moan. Your back arches up as your hands tighten over his shoulders. His lips dip down to your neck, kissing and sucking as he begins to move at a rapid pace. No slow introduction, no pacing, he needed you and he needed you now.

Your moans bounce throughout his living room, skin on skin echoing through his apartment. You bring a hand up to his hair and pull, bringing his head up from its position at your neck. He groans at the feeling, eyes locking onto yours as he pounds into you.

One of his hands grips the flesh of your thigh and lifts, bringing it upwards. The stretch nearly causes you to orgasm on the spot. Chris’ cock nudged that perfect spot with each thrust.

“Fuck.. baby,” Chris rasps in your ear, his other hand holding tightly to your waist, “I'm close. I'm close… fuck.”

You moan in response, reaching down between the two of you to thumb at your clit. Chris quickly grabs your wrist, “No. Let me..”

His calloused thumb rubs against your clit, and you can feel your pussy tightening against his cock.

“Shit, yeah sweetheart. Just like that,” Chris moans. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips meet yours quickly. He’s messy, sloppily kissing you in time with his thrusts. He drops his head and groans a chorus of Fuck’s and Shit, baby.

“Look at me. Are you close?” you meet his eyes and nod, moaning his name.

“Chris,”

“I know, baby.”

His thumb speeds up, and you spasm. Your back arches up as you cum, your legs shaking. You spill fluids all over his dick, moaning and babbling incoherently. It doesn't take long for Chris to find his end as well. You feel a hot sensation flooding between your legs as Chris empties himself into you. He gasps and groans as he thrusts into you a few more times.

His movements halt and you both stay there, breathing heavily. You hold eye contact with him as he gently pulls out of you.

He sits back, admiring his work. He then stands and pads towards another room. You hear a sink running. He returns with a warm washcloth and wipes you down, folding the cloth over and then wiping himself off. Ever the gentle giant, he tenderly sits you up, offering you a glass of water. You lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as you gratefully sip the beverage.

Chris gently strokes your hair with one hand. You smile and nuzzle into his side. His arm wraps around you as you both sit there in silence for a few minutes.

You turn your head up to him, “Did you mean what you said? About needing me?”

Chris sighs, a small smile falling across his features, “Yeah, I did. Did you?”

You return the smile, pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

“Yes, always.”

#NSFT #smut #angst #chris redfield #chris redfeild x reader #resident evil #re5 #albert wesker #idk hes there for a bit im adding him #god i love him #gender neutral reader #no use of y/n #afab reader

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slvtforyeo · 3 months

Text

Masterlist

[haii, I'm yevi (🇵🇭) !! I'm she/her, turning 20, and I bias seonghwa and yeosang!]

network/s: @cromernet @newworldnet @atzhouse

𔘓 [ ateez ]

drabbles / short fics !

Hey, Emo Boy!

no clothes?

cum-stained glasses

hi hungry, I'm hard

fixonmydick ; tall and big

late night horniness

imagines !

It's nice to have a friend

It's raining... snowballs?

author's note: do not repost any of my works. reblogging and liking my posts will be very much appreciated. feel free to also follow me !

#hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #albert wesker #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez drabble #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut

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prettycutebunny · 2 years

Text

Little butterfly

Albert wesker x reader , part 2

Smut minors DNI , angst

Tw: dubcon borderline noncon

The soft hand stroking your quivering body as his eyes bored into your exhausted form. Brain mushed from your previous orgasms , your hazy eyes watched him get out. All the bliss you felt before has left your body in an instant as he started dressing up in a hurry. His back turned towards you as he walked to the door silently. Your lips trembled as you bit them down furiously.

Walking after was always hard , you enjoyed the slight leftover pain. Thinking of it as his mark inside you. Proof that you meant more to him than others in his life, more than her. The bathroom was sparkling clean as usual and the cold water didn’t help the fire like pain in your chest. A sob stuck in your throat as you tried to hold yourself together. Being left alone always makes you feel unclean , filthy , tainted.

‘Clean up and leave’ repeated in your mind like a chantra as you scrubbed yourself raw. Eyes glossy with unshed tears , throat sore from the lump stuck inside it , and body burning from the constant cleanly. You were almost done when your knees buckled. This made you let out the bitterness seep through with a frustrated scream. Your scream turned into a full blown breakdown as he leaned over the outside door listening.

Make sure nobody sees you leave

Hood over your head, keep your eyes down

Tell your friends you're out for a run

You'll be flushed when you return

When did it all start ? Your first day at work has been a bit awkward with all the new faces but they were nice enough. An intern at the Raccoon City Police department. The eyes were on you as you tried your best not to mess up.

“Hey , newbie”

Your body straightened up instantly as you turned toward the playful voice. His uniform had S.T.A.R.S written on it and it was all you needed to see for your nerves to flair again.

“Calm down rookie , no one will eat you alive.”

He laughed as he patted your shoulder slightly. You giggled like a fangirl as your eyes settled at him. Chris Redfiled was popular between the staff and you recognized him thanks to them. He looked as friendly as he sounded.

“Are you sure ? I’m very tasty !”

He blinked at you trying to register what he heard before he started laughing hard.

“It’s official , I like you”

Your ginned at him and replied back

“Oh my I’m a lucky girl”

An annoyed snarl came from behind, cutting your conversion short.

“Stop wasting your time and get to work”

You whipped your neck so fast it almost broke as it landed on his back. He didn’t even bother looking back at you , just scolded his subordinate and left. Why does he always give you his back ? Why do you always have to watch him walk away ?

Take the road less traveled by

Tell yourself you can always stop

What started in beautiful rooms

Ends with meetings in parking lots

He always wore that damned ring , everyday you watched him work with it in his finger. No one knows who the lucky madam is , he’s too overprotective to drag her around. A man of many enemies wanted to keep his woman hidden only for himself. Away from anyone that would dare harm her. The same man who orders dozens of flowers every valentine and leaves early with his head held high.

He caught you staring once more and you looked down with an embarrassed blush. His lips turned up with a smirk before resuming his work. The heat traveled from your cheeks to your neck and ears , the way you acted like a high schooler with a crush towards your superior was shameful but you couldn’t help yourself.

Jill’s voice interrupted your self pity party as she shook her empty coffee mug. You straightened up and headed to the kitchen , as the internet was your job. You helped with official business every once and a while but it’s mostly coffee and food runs. Filling the pot became a routine you enjoyed as coffee was your guilty pleasure.

The fact that the department would allow you to buy the expensive beans you love dearly and adding them to the budget was a dream come true. The fresh smell of fresh brew reached your noise as you took it off and headed to do your rounds. This type was a rare treat for you , until you brought it once to work and it became a must for everyone else.

You tried to hide the proud smile as gloomy faces brightened up at the look of the hot pot in your hand. Starting with Wesker's and Marini’s desks. The latter gave you a grateful smile and his usual flirty comment.

“You’re our Angel , you know that right ?”

Giggling in response you turned to Chris who was the closest to you and poured him as well.

“He’s right , I can’t start my morning without you”

“If you like me that much , why don’t you take me to lunch?”

You raised your eyebrows at him slyly and he rubbed his neck as his usual nervous tic.

“Are you free today ? I know a good plac…”

“Redfield ! Where is Marcus file’s ?”

The barking voice of the alpha’s team leader cut through your conversion like a knife.

“There’s not much in it , he’s been missing for so long that ….”

“Are you telling me you gave up on it ? When I just assigned it to you ?”

This made Chris straightened up as you felt a glare on your back , you walked away from his desk to Jill’s. You felt so bad for Chris but he should’ve known better. Wesker always had it for him for some reason and it was the cause of gossip around in the office.

“And you”

His voice still held its angry tone as you snapped back to look at his covered eyes.

“Stay back after work , I need to speak to you privately”

Panic took over as you tried to keep the coffee run going without shaking. Sympathetic eyes followed you.

“Yes sir”

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and longing stares

It's born from just one single glance

But it dies, and it dies, and it dies

A million little times.

Your knees ached from your weight as your jaw went sore. The warm hand on your head guided you as he groaned on top of you. Tongue clumsily trying to lick the vein under his cock , his fingers laced in your hair and tugged hard. Looking on top of him through your eyelashes , a gush of wetness went between your legs.

His eyes closed , head thrown back , legs spread to accommodate you , and the stiffness he usually held between his shoulders disappeared. His sunglasses rested on the desk as you tried to please him. Head popping in the rhythm he desires.

The hand on you pushed you down suddenly , as tears ran down your face caused by the gagging. Your throat constricted as an objection to his sudden action. A deep growl came from his throat as the salty taste of his seeds filled your mouth and dropped out with the salvia.

He held you down as his blue eyes opened and stared down at the pathetic state he left you in. A smirk formed at his lips as he pulled your head back, his member leaving your lips with a plop. You straightened yourself , legs popping in protest as you reached for a napkin. You’re sure you looked absolutely horrendous.

Wiping your face clean as much as you can , his arms wrapped around you and pulled you to his lap. A yelp left your lips as you felt a hand makes it ways under your skirt and pushing your underwear aside. The rough finger enter you almost caused you to scream.

“I don’t need to tell you why no one should know, do I dear heart ?”

His gruff voice in your ear made you clinch around his finger as you nodded almost desperately. Your hips moved on his thigh as he fucked you with his digit , the friction driving you half insane. Pain shot from your neck as his teeth broke skin from the force of the bite. The pain and pleasure made your mind hazy.

An intense sensation jolted your body as he hit that spot. He smirked between his kisses to the back of your neck and shoulders , making sure to rub that spongy muscle over and over. Your legs and thighs started quivering as you tipped over the edge. His uniform pants are stained with your juices and the wet sounds of your need.

Leave the perfume on the shelf

That you picked out just for him

So you leave no trace behind

Like you don't even exist

You’ve heard stories about people getting stomach aches because of anxiety but experiencing yourself was aganzing. The lights were blindingly bright and the music were deafeningly loud. The place was overcrowded and your senses were overwhelmed. The only thing stopping you from running was the hand clasped around your wrist. The entire squad decided to hit the club after finishing a difficult mission to unwind.

Forming a chain to not separate , you were stuck through the waves of people around you. Making sure to grip Richard's hand behind you tightly , you advanced with the rest towards the bar. Chris hand never let go of yours. Your vision cleared a bit and the sight of the two captains sitting together sipping what seemed like fancy drinks on ice caught your attention.

You let go of Richard’s hand as he headed towards the rest but the hand that held you never let go. You looked up to see Chris rubbing his neck with embarrassment. His eyes shifted to the side before he took a deep breath and turned towards you.

“Do you want to dance ?”

That question took you by surprise as your eyes flickered to your secret lover but he was too deep in conversation to notice you. “Your lover” ? A bitter laugh almost erupted through your chest. He made it very clear what you were. A side piece he uses until he’s bored. He’s never yours and you know it. Looking at the man in front of you as he shifted his stand and smiled brightly. Tugging him into the dance floor.

Wesker cares about his own enjoyment and fun so you should do the same. After all , if he's not yours then you’re not his. Chris moved surprisingly smoothly for a man his size. His biceps would automatically flex every time you touched it making you squeeze it in return. You both laughed as you danced around the crowd.

Jill came over to join you both with drinks in hand. She was slightly tipsy and demanded you share a shot with her. Giggling uncontrollably as Chris' face turned sore from the strong shot. Jill didn’t come to play clearly and you joined them as well. The alcohol burnt your throat but you didn’t care. You were happier than you’ve been in a while and glowed on the dance floor.

Moving your hips in time together, the burning sensation of eyes on your back never let up. Someone was watching you so intensely as you had your fun and you didn’t care to check who they were. Chris spun you once more causing you to almost trip but he caught you. Your hands on his arms as they twitched under your touch. You both made eye contact causing an extreme desire to just lean in.

“Are you two drunk ? Don’t forget we have work tomorrow”

In an almost venom-like tone , Wesker came in behind Chris. His eyes never left your form as you both separated instantly. The weight of his glare made you hunch your shoulders in shame , the prickly pain in your chest returned once more as you excused yourself. Heading towards the exit before anyone could stop you through the crowds once more.

The cool night air calmed your warm body as you tried to stabilize yourself near the wall. Hands clumsily trying to get an Uber while fighting tears. He had no business to ruin your fun but instead of being angry at him , you felt slight happiness thinking he’d be jealous over you. The needle-like pain in your heart screamed at your hopeless thoughts.

A hand snatched your phone from you and pushed you into a dark alley. Your screams are muffled by the familiar feeling of a biting kiss. His scent invaded your nose as his body trapped you against the wall and his rough hand grabbed your thigh from under your dress. Pain shot through your lips as he bit down hard bruising it. Before pulling away.

“You’re mine”

Take the words for what they are

A dwindling, mercurial high

A drug that only worked

The first few hundred times

Sitting in the dark wasn’t your favorite hobby , let alone working in the dark. However, a sudden power outage forced everyone in the station to work in almost pitch black. There were some scented candles around that the members used to form a circle of light and pushed their desks near it to work. Causing your eyesight to be strained as you wrote everything down by hand. The computers were useless but those forms had to be done today.

The flapping in the dim light caught multiple people's attention. A butterfly seemed to have snuck it’s way in the precinct distracting the people around it. The small feature landed on your hand as you smiled down at it. You can’t make out the colors because of the darkness but it was beautiful. The butterfly suddenly flew away and straight toward the candle light.

You gasped as you tried to grab it away, burning your fingers as a result. You heard Rebecca’s scolding tone as the poor creature’s wings were burnt and it flapped in agony in your palm. She shifted away to get the first aid kit while you wanted to cry. The small life that touched you was gone in a second because it flew too close to the warmth it seeked.

The lights were back on as the medic applied the burn cream to your fingers. The slight pain was nothing compared to how conflicted your thoughts were at the moment. The sight of Wesker leaving with a smirk as the other captain teased him about his “strict madam”. Nothing in the world could make him stay past his work time and he took pride in saying how sad his wife would be if he was late. The bitterness and resentment burnt its way deeply within you as you headed back to your computer.

A sudden buzz in your phone made you look up. You opened the test from an unknown number.

‘I’m waiting for you outside

W’

Sending the last email you needed to , you picked up your stuff and said your goodbyes. Only the true workaholic stayed more than they needed to - or Chris when he messed up his paperwork so bad he needed to redo them - so no one paid any attention to you. The black car waited for you outside. as you opened the passenger door you blurted a snarky remake.

“Not going to see the Mrs today ?”

He let out an amused huff before he turned towards you.

“Jealousy isn’t a good color on you little butterfly but if you must know , she’s on a vacation. My darling has been so stressed lately that I wanted to spoil her”

Did he just call you ‘little butterfly’ ? You chewed on your lips in frustration as he drove towards the usual hotel. Because that’s where men take their whores , a hotel and not their home.

“I’m thinking about divorce”

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and stolen stares

They show their truth one single time

But they lie, and they lie, and they lie

A million little times

Laying on your bed sobbing , all you can think of was his treachery. You knew he was a cruel man but giving you hope only to take it away was heartless. He never left her but instead took a week off for a ‘family vacation’. You had to find out the next day at the office when he wasn’t there. He lied through his teeth as you both had one of the most passionate nights in your life.

You were so happy with the thought of finally having him - all of him - to yourself alone. He ravaged you so hard you can still feel him as you move. The black hole in your chest returned with full force eating away any of the happiness you felt that day. You wanted to tell someone so badly but you can’t. You’ll be the slut who’s sleeping with a married man and forever shamed. The whore who slept her way to the top with her supervisor. Undeserving of her job or any promotion that’s to come.

The sudden phone ringing broke you out of your episode of crying and self loathing. ‘W’ was flashing on your screen as you turned it off. He can’t just go have fun with his wife for a week after lying to you and expect you to answer him the moment he calls. As much as you’d like to say you have dignity , it’s been shattered the moment he walked into your life. You want this to be over so badly but he’s like a drug you can’t stop indulging yourself into. Your phone flashing screen irritated you as you turned off and threw it towards the other pillow.

Not even a half hour later , a frantic knock on your door interrupted you. Determined to isolate yourself from everyone you ignored it. The voice behind the door however forced you to stand up.

“I know you’re inside dearheart , now open up”

His voice was tinged with annoyance as he seemed pissed off that he had to come to you. The words left your lips before you could even stop them.

“Leave me alone ! I hate you !”

The anger bubbling inside you burst as you kept screaming.

“We’re over ! I don’t want to see you ever again and I quit !”

A silence followed as the tension in the air began to rise. You slowly stood up and headed towards the door , your ajar bedroom door should’ve made your words crystal clear. there was a silence on his end and no footsteps were heard. The breaking of your door lock made you stand straight with fear, as your captain walked into your house with silent anger. His posture was stiff as his hand held the crushed knob in it. His head turned towards you slowly as you can swear his eyes flashed red under his sunglasses. He took big threatening steps toward you as he slammed the door behind him , causing the farm to shake. you used this chance to run to your bedroom for cover.

His hand caught your wrist before you could make it through the door and he brought you against his hard chest. This made youscream once more.

“Fuck off and leave me alone !”

You were too hurt to care about your safety and all your survival instinct shut itself off. He kicked the door open and threw you on the bed and climbed over it before you could get off. One of his hands covered your lips while the other tore away your shorts. You tried to shut your legs off but he pried it open and forced his fingers in. The wetness pooled in your core slowly as you teared up in shame.

“You hate me ? Then what is this ?”

He spoke through gritted teeth as he raised his wet gloved hand. He raised the hand that covered your lips and put it over your thigh raising your legs for a deeper angle. His brutal digits returned to your aching pussy once more. You wanted to scream - to protest - but all that came out was sobs and moans. He knew all your sweet sports and was hitting them to make a point. You tried pushing him away but it was like trying to push a boulder off.

His fingers left your core and the sound of the zipper made you thrash again. He pulled his belts off , looping them around your wrists for leverage before forcing his length inside as you let out a scream of pain and pleasure. He was too big even with the slight foreplay and a brutal pace was set before you could have a chance to adjust.

Your back arched and your hips moved in sync while he bit down on your neck harshly determined to make himself in you. His thrusts were too deep and too fast for you to keep a straight head , your orgasm building up faster than anything you’ve experienced before. Your tears never stopped as he flipped you over - still inside you - and raised your hips up.

Everything felt good and painful at once and your brain was fried. your arms were pulled behind your back and ached in protest to the weird angle. He used them to raise your upper body up as his other hand kept your hips in place. The angle combined with the shameful position sent you into orgasm after orgasm. His teeth sunk into as much flesh as it could with the simple purpose of making a point.

“Do you think you can just ignore you ? End things whenever you want and leave me behind ? Did you learn nothing from your little friend, little butterfly ?”

His voice invaded your tormented mind as he slapped your behind hard. A whimper left your throat at his words as he repeated the action over and over again.

“You’re mine. Everything about you belongs to me. You’re not allowed to leave. Do. You. Hear. Me. ?”

He empathized the last sentence with hard thrusts between his words. As you clinched against his dick for another orgasm , he pushed himself deep as his seeds filled your abused hole to the brim. Your quivering walls milking him until his last drop.

He stood up and zipped himself up before turning towards you.

“I will let this one fly because you’re so young but don’t fly too close to the fire, little butterfly or you’ll get burnt.”

And you wanna scream

Don't call me "kid"

Don't call me "baby"

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

You showed me colors

You know I can't see with anyone else

The luxurious bed sheets felt heavenly on your naked skin , the silky cold pillowcase caressed your cheeks softly and gentle touches of callous fingers on your arm was the perfect combination to a restful sleep. Your mind kept dozing off as you tried your hardest to stay awake but you were too comfortable to be able to fight it. He's rarely around you in such a serene moment and it feels like a waste to spend it sleeping.

“Do you know why Icarus fell ?”

His smooth voice growing huskier because of sleep made you open your eyes lazily.

“He burnt his wings while flying towards the sun ?”

“That is correct , does it not remind you of someone's little butterfly?”

Blinking the sleep out of your eyes as you straighten yourself up while grabbing your things off the side table.

“Don’t call me that.”

Your voice came shakier than you would’ve liked as tears clouded your eyes once more. Couldn’t he just let you be happy for once ? He didn’t say anything as he watched you grab your clothes off the floor.

“They say he was smiling as his wings slowly burnt off. Do you know why ?”

Without looking back you got dressed despite the burning in your eyes. The shaking in your arms didn’t stop him from continuing his story.

“Icarus was so captivated by the sun's warmth and beauty he didn’t think about stopping. He knew he'd be the only one to ever reach it so he was burned. It's interesting , is it not a little butterfly?”

“Go to hell”

Your broken sobs won over as you stormed out of the bedroom towards the bathroom not giving him a single glance. Albert was the smartest man you know but he was killing you with his words without noticing. This entire story was meant to be a warning to you. ‘Don’t desire more or you’ll live to regret it’.

Holding the anguish screams inside your chest , you entered the shower trying to wipe your tears away. You only needed to wash off and leave. The smell of him was all over your body and you just wanted it off. Washing your feelings and all his lingering traces out of your system. The tip of your toes clashed with the sink making a loud scream of pain out.

It was like opening a flud with you collapsing on the floor crying loudly with your arms reaching out clumsily to open the shower. Hoping the sound of the water would mask your shameful outburst. He thinks little of you, it burns but you care too much of him. It breaks little pieces of your soul every time.

Don't call me "kid"

Don't call me "baby"

Look at this idiotic fool that you made me

You taught me a secret language

I can't speak with anyone else

Albert watched you walk away and only got up after hearing the door slam shut. He let out a frustrated sight as he glared down at the ring in his hand. Wearing it around helped him professionally and personally. The greatest cover up for him missing work at the police station and boosted his social status with umbrella’s suits. He noticed the way they treated Birkin differently after his marriage and he couldn’t let his friend get all the glory.

No one captured his special attention besides fluffing him sexually and even that didn’t last long. His body stiffened as your scream reached his ear. He can’t simply divorce his nonexistent wife and telling you the truth is out of the question. He had always planned ten steps ahead of everyone but your appearance took him off guard. He never intended to fall for anyone , he’s Albert wesker. He never ‘falls’ for anything and the sudden change both confused and angered him.

His ‘Little butterfly’ was fragile , sweet , and naive. Not noticing the loopholes in his half assed excuses as he went away to his research. Never questioning how his ‘wife’ is okay with him spending a night after night away even on holidays. Why she’s not present in any events or why no one knew what she looked like. He has the green eyed monster to thank for that.

Bringing up Icarus was him projecting and he knew it. It wasn’t her who was flying too close to the sun but him. He has a perfect airtight plan that would guarantee his immortality if he just followed it without calling her to his office the time it started. He couldn’t resist the urge to fly and pursue his desire determined it’ll go away on its own. The thought of Chris asking her out before he had a taste of her left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He bared his teeth in anger as Chris’s name came to mind. The younger man was brazen enough to put moves on his woman multiple times even when he laid claim to her time and time over. Too thick skulled to understand he stands no chance.

The alarm next to him rang, singling it’s time to get to work. He stared at the bathroom door for a moment before heading to the other bathroom with a sight. He’s flying too close to the sun with his sheer desire to own her , have her stand by him as his queen and he’s not sure he could stop before burning himself off.

And you know damn well

For you, I would ruin myself

A million little times

#albert wesker x reader #Chris redfield x reader #resident evil x reader #albert wesker #chris redfield #bunny writes #angst

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mara-xx217 · 1 year

Note

Soooooooo, I’m feeling extra angsty so imagine wesker going to check on his sleeping girlfriend of ten years to find half of her face was infected and she’s screaming in agony ?

YES WESKER ANGST HERE WE GOOO-

Warnings: Bad Times, Angst, Infection, Obsession, Guilt

He was already on his way to your shared bedroom when he heard your screams of agony. Wesker had no idea what was happening: did someone break in- no, he made sure it was specifically safe for you- did you hurt yourself- no, you never would- then what?!

It was worse than anything that he could ever imagine. You, the love of his life, the only person in the entire world that understood him for who he truly was and accepted him for himself, was writhing in pain, body twisting and jumping off the bed as you held your face in your hands. You didn't even seem to realize that he was there, shouting your name and trying to get a hold of you as your screams hit an impossible pitch. For the first time in his life, Wesker sweat cold and couldn't contain his fear as he straddled your legs and pried your hands away from your face.

No... it can't be... He was taken aback, unable to truly believe what he was actually seeing. It should be possible! How could you- you!- be infected?! It was progressing fast, faster than any other strain of the virus that Wesker has seen in play in all the instances that it has been released into the public.

You were fine mere hours ago! No symptoms, no possible sign that you were sick at all, let alone with... this! How could this happen to you?! How could he let this happen to you?! When these symptoms begin to manifest so aggressively...

No. No, no no- NO! He won't let this happen to you! Not to YOU! He can't- Wesker will not let this happen! You won't turn. You won't- He can't let you-

Wesker won't think it. It won't happen. Not to you- Not when he is alive and still able to do something about it. He will pour every waking moment into finding a cure for you and for you alone. It doesn't matter what it takes, how many lives he must take or what measure he must take to keep you alive and to keep you... you.

He won't rest. He can't. Not when you're suffering, with mere days- hours- minutes- moments left before... that happens. But it won't happen. Wesker won't let it.

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine

#resident evil #alber wesker #albert wesker x reader #ask response #angst

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blueysobssesions · 5 months

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- Shadows in the snow -

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ~ While having fun at BSAA headquarters. Little did you know, a shadow lurked in the snow-covered night, slowly making its way to the heart of the celebration.

~ Albert Wesker x reader

The BSAA Christmas bash was in full swing, and I found myself engrossed in a spirited chat with Leon, swapping stories and laughs to soak in the festive vibes. The room buzzed with joy, but little did we know, the night was about to take a dark twist.

"So, Leon, did you hear the one about Chris trying to convince everyone that reindeer were some fancy B.O.W.?" I teased, earning a chuckle from the man himself.

"That's classic Chris," Leon grinned. "I can totally picture him doing that."

As we bantered away, the door crashed open dramatically, stealing everyone's attention. Enter Albert Wesker, the unexpected guest who cast an ominous shadow over our jolly gathering. The room fell silent, and a frosty air replaced the holiday warmth as Wesker's piercing gaze zeroed in on me.

"I hope I'm not interrupting the festivities," Wesker drawled, his voice slicing through the suddenly tense atmosphere.

Chris, Jill, Carlos, Rebecca, and Claire exchanged puzzled glances, ready for action. I shot a worried look at Leon as Wesker approached, that sly grin of his refusing to fade.

"What's he doing here?" Chris muttered, hand hovering over his sidearm.

Before anyone could react, Wesker addressed the room. "Ah, the illustrious BSAA gathering. How quaint. I trust you're all enjoying your little holiday celebration."

The room tensed as Wesker's gaze lingered on me. "My dear, I couldn't resist the opportunity to witness the festivities. And, of course, to extend a special invitation."

A murmur swept through the group as Wesker extended a gloved hand toward me, a dark invitation to join him. Uncertainty hung thick in the air.

Chris stepped forward, unwavering. "What's the game, Wesker? We're not falling for your tricks."

Wesker chuckled, acknowledging Chris's skepticism. "No games, Chris. Just a dance. I thought it would be a fitting way to catch up, don't you think?"

Chris stepped forward, stern. "A dance? What's your game?"

Wesker glanced at the gun pointed at him. "No game, Chris. I've come to extend an invitation, and the choice lies with our dear friend here." He gestured toward me.

"You don't need to crash a Christmas party to see me, Wesker!" I declared, my voice firm.

Wesker's grin widened. "Drama adds excitement to Christmas, my dear. What's the holiday without a bit of thrill?"

Leon's grip tightened, the room pulsating with tension. I chose a moment of silence before questioning, "What if... I don't?"

Wesker's demeanor shifted. "You think you have a choice? You underestimate the gravity of the situation."

Comrades stepped back, wary. Chris warned, "Whatever game you're playing won't end well."

Ignoring the warning, Wesker conjured Uroboros tendrils, darkness enveloping the room. Panic set in as the once-festive party transformed into a stage for confrontation.

"I offered a dance, and you dare refuse?" Wesker's possessiveness chilled the air. "Perhaps a taste of Uroboros will change your mind."

Tendrils twisted, panic spread, and Chris prepared for a fight. But Jill intervened, "Enough, Wesker. You won't use Uroboros on innocent people. We won't let you."

Frustration flickered in Wesker's eyes. The room held its breath, uncertainty thickening the air. The choice was mine—defy Wesker and face Uroboros or find a way to prevent further catastrophe on this once-festive Christmas Eve.

⤹ - Bluey here! Thank you for reading this completely >.<

➜ ┊: ( masterlist ) ᵎ ✰

#blueyheartzposts #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #chris redfield #jill valentine #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #fluff with angst

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 1 year

Note

Hello! can i have yandere wesker headcanon? from the Code Veronica version. His s/o always tries to avoid it at all costs.

Hii anon, of course!

I hope you like it.

As usual, for early content check my ko-fi/patreon. Thank you!

You knew Wesker vaguely, based on other people's rumors, as he was your coworker during your Umbrella days. However, you had no idea how much he knew about you. From the outside, it seemed that you didn't exist for him, but on the inside, he had deeper feelings for you that led to an unhealthy obsession. You were smart, beautiful, and very determined, traits that made you a very accomplished scientist, and a challenge for Wesker.

Once he knew all the information he needed about you, he hired someone to stalk you, in order to get a better view of your personal life. All of your potential boyfriends disappeared when things turned serious, and that made you believe that something was wrong with you, but that wasn't true since Wesker pulled all the strings. It was, of course, for your safety, as none of them were worthy of having you. Wesker was your only choice, and you had to figure it out soon. He knew so much about you, as if you two shared the same house, but in reality he barely noticed you. He pretended so well that you had no idea what he was doing in secret.

His plan was coming to fruition, and once you were at your lowest due to not finding a partner, he began to act. The flaw in his plan, which he didn't anticipate, was that you didn't bother to notice him. You will not give in to his advantages, no matter how hard he tries. You said no to dates, flowers, and gifts. Truth be told, you didn’t like Wesker. He was arrogant, selfish, and mean. At some point during your relationship, you avoided him on purpose because he didn’t seem to get the hint. The more you’d reject him, the closer he’ll get. As a result, one day Wesker got mad and kidnapped you, but you escaped just in time thanks to the small outbreak that occurred in the Arklay Mountains.

He wanted to retrieve you that night but ended up toasted. You were long gone, and knowing that he'd follow you, you went to Antarctica in the employment of the Ashford family. It was weird to work with Alfred and "Alexia," not to mention the harsh and cold weather, but it was better than being near Wesker.

Wesker was heartbroken and searched for you for a while, but he lost hope and focused on his new mission.

The Redfield brothers were in the facility, causing mayhem. You didn’t know where Alfred was or if he was still alive. On your way to the security room, you heard a familiar voice from within.

"Ooh little fishy, come see my hook." the man said with arrogance in his tone.

You placed a hand over your mouth as you tried to suppress a scream. It came out as a muffled yelp, but unfortunately it was loud enough for Wesker to hear. You heard his steps coming to the door, and you ran away as fast as you could.

"Did he notice me?" You asked yourself.

"What’s that in the distance? I see another fish."Wesker said this theatrically, knowing he can catch you if want.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You tried to make it to the hangar, hop on a jet, and fly far away from there.

"Umbrella is going down; why didn’t I find employment somewhere else?"

You pulled out your security card and tried to open the doors. Your hands were shaking, so it was hard to scan the card through the small gap, but eventually the light turned green and the doors began to open. You didn’t care about Alfred; he was a jerk anyway.

"Going somewhere?" Wesker asked from behind in a calm tone.

You froze in place. It felt like time stopped, and like a cornered rabbit, you waited for the big bad wolf to kill you.

"Listen, Wesk-" a hand grabbed you by your neck, forcing you to face him. Upon seeing his bloody eyes, you let out a scream. They pierced through your soul as they looked down at you with anger and disappointment.

"Do you have any idea what kind of hell I had to go through in order to save your prissy ass?"

"I-I’m sorry..." you said, but your voice was fading as the grip around your neck became tighter.

"No, no, you’re not sorry. I did everything I could for you. I gave you a promotion, more money, and more resources, and what did I get? Rejection"

His face slowly morphed into something that didn’t resemble a human anymore. In that dim light, he seemed like a grotesque creature, one that was ready to rip you in half.

You took one final deep breath as you felt his hand crush your neck, and without realizing his next move, he smashed your head into the metal grid of the large door, making you lose consciousness.

You awoke in a strange room with huge pain throughout your body. You tried to stand up but failed multiple times as your legs were too weak to carry your weight. Eventually, you gathered some strength and started to explore your surroundings.

The room you were in was spacious, with a floor bed and some magazines, along with a TV and a small closet. When you moved further, you heard a clinking sound and felt a gentle restraint on your ankle. You started to sob when you realized the gravity of the situation. Cuffed to the floor in an unknown place with the worst headache and nausea, you began to scream as loudly as your weak body allowed, hoping to get his attention.

He made an appearance after twenty minutes, dressed in black, and he sat in front of you. After a few moments of silence and as your vision improved, you noticed that he wasn't himself, as his sheer confidence and symbolic smugness were missing from his face. He looked rather sad and exhausted.

It appeared that his eyes changed colors as well, and instead of that bloody red there was a warm shade of amber. He scanned you from head to toe in silence, keeping his own conclusions to himself.

Wesker didn’t want your relationship to end up like this, because he hoped you’d understand that he only used extreme actions because he loved you. He decided to be very calm and tolerant with you as he realized how hard it would be to make you fall for him, but one thing is certain: you will love him by any means necessary.

taglist: @shadow-wolf510 @ravenrune @cassie-todd

#resident evil #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #angst #yandere #code veronica

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wil-o-wispy · 1 month

Text

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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