noblesandsstories

[noblesandsstories]

Venomous Ties

Chapter 2- And I know no one will save me

Alpha Albert Wesker x ????!AFAB!Reader

-> Omgeaverse; Angst; Age gap (Reader is mid 20s ish, Wesker is 37); Older man, younger woman; Slow (ish) burn; PLEASE HEAD THE WARNINGS; You know shit's hit the fan when Wesker is the better option; Domestic abuse; mentions of starvation; Physical abuse; Manipulation; Swearing; Yelling; Arguments; Toxic houshold; Abusive parents; Homicide/Murder; Gore; Violence; Concussions; Once again, this runs alongside cannon, but isn't 100% accurate.

AN: Please heed the warnings, this chapter got a little messy. Also this chapter is long as shit. Trust me, I'm not expecting this to be the norm, but there was a lot of information I wanted to get across quickly. Like always, please please please leave comments, reblog, and give me feedback. I'm really excited to see the reactions to this one.

Title is from "Nobody" by Mitski

Border made by @sweetmelodygraphics

When you awoke, sunlight lit the entire room in a soft, warm glow. It was the most well rested you had felt in a while, and your body longed for you to stay tucked into the covers. The room had an old but comforting smell you hadn’t noticed last night. It was soothing. And for a minute, you almost forgot where you were. Almost.

You sat up quickly, which resulted in your head spinning. You tried to take in your surrounding with the world tilting, eventually everything returned to its rightful place.

You were alone in the room with no way to find the time. There was no clock, and the window wasn’t positioned in a way where you could gauge the sun’s placement in its crawl across the sky.

Your stomach growled. You opted to take the last sip of water from the bottle, hoping to quell it. It didn’t, but your throat wasn’t dry anymore.

How long were you asleep? Did Wesker forget to come get you? You didn’t like the idea of having to find your way through the mansion alone, but you might not be left with much choice. You slipped your shoes on and moved over to the mirror, using your hands to fix your hair to look more presentable.

Through the mirror, you saw the door open and Wesker slip in, a bag of something in his hand with a pleasant smell wafting from it. You’re not sure you’ve ever smelled something so enticing before.

“Good morning, I hope you slept well. I brought breakfast.” He held out the bag. “I was unsure if you drank coffee, so I’m afraid I didn’t bring you any.”

“Thank you. What time is it?” You take the bag from his hand gently.

“It’s around 10:45.”

Your panic set in. “That’s-”

“Don’t worry about it. I needed to discuss something with Edgington in private the moment he came in, no point in disturbing you when you’re not needed.”

Your gut sank. “Oh.” You told him more than you wanted to last night, your exhaustion and mental state betraying you. Who knows what Bruno is going to say. Or worse, what he’s going to do. Safe to say you’re not eating for a while.

Wesker cleared his throat, waving a hand to the desk in the room. “You should begin eating. We have work to do, and while I let you sleep in, starting much later will cause delays.”

“Sorry, right of course.” You sat and opened the bag, grabbing what was inside, finding a wrapped bagel sandwich. The first bite was glorious and the level of decorum you tried to hold wavered as you began to eat.

“In regard to what I spoke about with Edington.”

You stopped mid bite.

“I’m wanting you to work for me instead. Whatever he’s paying you, I can match, plus any benefits-”

“He’s not paying me, sir.”

There was a pause before he spoke again. “Then we can discuss a starting price.”

Questions flooded your mind, but they all began with the same word. “Why?”

“The why is not important. All you need to know is I’m willing to pay, it will be mostly the same work as what you did for him, maybe a few things extra. I mostly work nights, though occasionally I have a day shit. Do you have any questions pertaining to the offer?”

You chewed slowly, buying a moment to think. “I don’t have a car. Or any way to contact you outside of work.”

“That I can help arrange. Transportation might need to be discussed more, as we are more remote, but I have ways to get you here. I can also issue you a pager that we can use to contact each other.”

He was willing to hop through loops. You weren’t expecting that. “I’ll think on it.”

“I’d like to know as soon as possible, no later than today.”

“I’ll let you know before then mostly likely, if I can find your office.”

“I’ll be in my lab today. It’s not far from Edington’s, a few doors down. I can point it out on our way back.”

“Thank you.” You went back to your bagel.

He watched you as you finished eating. After your last bite, you returned the wrapping back to the bag.

“We can throw away the trash in the labs,” he said.

You nodded, getting up. “Lead the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruno’s office was empty when you arrived. The isolation was perfect, as it gave you the ability to think over Wesker’s offer.

Contrary to popular belief, you weren’t completely stupid. You knew how the researchers at Umbrella worked. He wanted you for something, if not he wanted to use you for something. The terrifying image of his hands on your body flashed in your mind. No, it likely wasn’t that. If he wanted such a service, he would have done so or made moves in the few times you’ve been left alone. Not an impossible outcome, but unlikely.

Chances were it had something to do with Bruno’s work. He wanted more information on it, and figured poaching the naïve assistant was a safe bet. He’s right. You don’t give a shit about Bruno’s job or the scientific advances he made. The only reason you haven’t gone full nuclear and brought it to the police is because you’d be caught in the crossfire. That and the police wouldn’t give a shit. They never did.

Bruno would be furious. Your life at home would be more hellish than usual.

But one thought kept circling back around. Bruno was under Wesker. And he seemed to be a figure that held a lot of sway. Hell, he didn’t even hesitate to offer the private property of his boss to your use.

That meant immunity. While you had his favor and were withing these four walls, Bruno couldn’t do anything. You’d be safe. Sure, you heard the whispers about what was done here, but if they decided to make you a Guinea pig, at least you were useful. You owed him anyways. He knew you for not even a few hours and provided you food, water, and shelter with seemingly no ties. Or it was to sway you to him. Can’t fault his methods, it worked. You were certainly swayed.

The nausea you’d been fighting all day returned, and you brought the trashcan back over to you.

One day off your medication and the withdrawal effects were brutal. Every time you missed it felt like you were dying. Nausea, dizzy spells, sensory overload, tremors, headaches. It was awful. The usual candle that you keep lit to soothe yourself felt like a punch to the olfactory system.

You’re going to be in a world of hell when you get to the labs, but first you have to ride out the wave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As suspected, the stench of the chemicals from the labs sucked.

You quickly peaked into the window of Bruno’s lab. His back was turned, and quite a few lab assistants were in there. You wondered why he hadn’t tried to track you down yet. You’re only guess was Wesker said something, but what you couldn’t guess.

Continuing forward, you found Wesker’s lab. There was no window to the door and a key card was needed to get in. You knocked and waited. After a second, the door opened revealing Wesker. Upon looking at you, he widened the door and held his arm out in invitation.

You stepped in and had to cover your nose at first.

“Problem with the smell?” He hummed.

“Withdrawal from my medicine leaves me feeling sick,” you replied quickly. “I wanted to give you my answer.”

“And?”

“I’ll do it.”

To your absolute surprise, he smiled. Well not a full beaming smile, more of a smirk. But still unsettling. “Then we should discuss details. I was planning on paying you hourly instead of salary. Is that fine?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Salary is a fixed income, though there are ways to increase it and receive bonuses. I suggest hourly as it will be easier to keep track of overtime and thus pay you what you’re owe. Though if later down the line we wish to change this we can. I was thinking of making out first contract 6 months to give us plenty of time to see if the terms we agree upon work, so don’t feel as if you’re trapped into the decision you make now. Does that sound adequate?”

“You really don’t have to ask me. I don’t have any reason to bargain for better.”

“You should. It could be your dignity on the line.”

“I never had much to begin with.”

“A shame.” He turns away to open a binder on the desk. It was only now that you realized the whole lab was empty except for the two of you.

“Are you the only one who uses this lab?”

“No, my associate Dr. Birkin who you saw the day of the meeting works here as well. You will most likely cross paths with him frequently. If he asks for assistance and you wish to help him, feel free, but not obliged. He knows the nature of our deal.” He turned back with a couple papers in his hand.

“These go over the specifics I have typed up for now. If you wish to change anything, write a note by it and we will go over it all at once. The final form concerns medical history. Due to the nature of our work here, there are somethings I need to know.”

“Of course.”

He placed them on the desk, alongside a pen, then pulled out the chair in front of it. “Feel free to take your time.” He walked over to what he was working on before you came in, you assume.

You sat down and began to read. Most of these words went over your head, but you were really trying to understand. After a few minutes of it, you started feeling jittery.

Having your back to the door was starting to unsettle you. The door might be secured with a key card, but that didn’t mean much. Someone could still come in. You don’t think he was lying when he said there was only two scientists that used this lab, but you highly doubt there was only two keycards. You looked around and saw that a corner by the door was empty, nothing taking up space and you’d be out of the way. You took the papers and the binder, making sure to keep your footsteps quiet as to not disturb him as you walked over.

After you sat down, you curled up into a more comfortable position and got back to the paperwork. You couldn’t understand most of the contract, though you got the gist of it. You went ahead and signed it. The medical paperwork seemed standard. It asked about past medical history, disabilities, etc. You filled it out accordingly.

Partway through, the door swung open. Due to your position behind the door, you couldn’t see who walked in, though you could hear him.

“That imbecilic jackass is sending us in circles.”

“Careful,” Wesker warned. He turned, initially facing towards the desk where you were sitting, then he looked across the room until he found you.

By this point you could see that the man that walked in was the other man from the meeting, Birkin you assume. He followed Wesker’s gaze and seemed to startle upon seeing you, before turning to his colleague.

“Albert don’t tell me you banished her to the floor,” he began with a scolding tone.

Wesker’s mouth opened but you beat him to it. “I prefer sitting here.”

He stared for a moment, before turning back to Wesker. “As I was saying, we’re being sent in circles. There’s no way we’ll get the results we need when we need them. And I don’t know if you heard the last notice from Spencer, but I’m not happy about it.” You decided to go back to the paperwork, since they were done talking to you.

“Should we have this discussion now?” Wesker growled.

Birkin nonchalantly waved. “She’s going to figure it out-”

“I meant to insinuate I was in the middle of something.”

“Ah, yes. Understandable. Is it the sequencing for the variant we found in our last test?”

“Yes, it’s quite tedious.”

Birkin chuckled. “Wasn’t that the whole reason you wanted her here?”

“Paperwork first.”

“Of course, legality is what we’re known for.”

You couldn’t help the smile that crept on your face at that comment, though you could feel the glare he shot Birkin beneath his glasses. He didn’t give a response, just turned back to his work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesker turned away from his project a few hours later. Birkin had left some time ago, grabbing some papers and leaving with no fanfare. You read over the paperwork a few more times, before grabbing a book you found on a shelf near where you sat. It was a book on gene sequencing, and had a whole segment dedicated to all the known gene sequences for viruses. It wasn’t exciting, but it passed the time.

“Apologies, that needed to get done, though it wasn’t meant to take that long.”

“It’s fine. I understand.” You put the book back on the shelf and stood up with the documents in hand.

He began to cross the room. “I won’t keep you much longer, it’s about time for your ride to clock out. I just want to go over your medical papers quickly.”

You nodded, handing him the papers. He was quiet as we went over everything, paused, and then grabbed a pen. “There’s a question missing. What’s your designation?”

“Beta, most likely,” you reply. “My mom suspects that I have some kind of disorder where I doesn’t present in normal means, including producing scents. She also thinks my sense of smell was messed up too, as I can’t smell people’s scents.”

“Interesting,” he hums. “But no diagnosis?”

“My mom doesn’t like doctors.” If only it were that simple.

“Tomorrow I’ll come in closer to when Edington leaves. I should have a keycard for you as well as the pager, though that item is still in the air. Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

His smirk returned. “See you soon. It’ll be a pleasure working with you.”

You left the room, feeling like a bird that put itself in the snake’s den.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Month one.

Working with Wesker was far better than working with Bruno. You’re pretty sure what he’s doing- as Birkin joked- was highly illegal. Granted Bruno’s work wasn’t getting him invited to the Vatican any time soon, but he seemed to mostly deal with animals and their DNA. Wesker seemed to deal with a lot of human elements.

Not like you’re going to start caring now.

Wesker had you transcribe a lot while he was working, similar to your time with Bruno, but you wouldn’t be completely constrained to the lab or his office (which you rarely saw). He frequently would have you run notes or papers around the facility. You had breaks when he did, and when he got food, he brought some for you. Even the night hours, which you thought you would dread, became a blessing. You got to hide away to sleep during the day. With the money you were bringing in, Bruno wouldn’t say shit about you not being around much.

It was one of those nights that was slower. Wesker didn’t need you to do much, you were only there in case he needs you to grab something. You had finished part of the book about gene sequences, instead now at the part explaining what the gene sequences did specifically.

“You read a lot.”

You looked up to see he was facing you, leaning against the worktable with his arms crossed. Waiting for something to finish, no doubt.

“Yeah, passes the time. I’ve read everything in my house at least twice.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t heard of it.”

“It’s a collection of short stories focused on animals in the jungles of India.”

“Do you have a favorite of the stories?”

Embarrassment began to creep in. “It’s called “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.’ It’s about a mongoose and his war against 2 cobras.”

“Interesting. I might pick it up sometime.”

The timer went off, signaling the end of the conversation. “If you could please write this down for me.”

You picked up your notepad and paid attention.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Month three.

Routine was something you cherished, and seemingly so did Wesker. Everything around him worked like clockwork or he made it so. On the rare occasion someone sent something late, they would feel his scorn and they’d never make the mistake again.

You envied him. The authority to have the world at his fingertips. The determination to have everything the way he wills. You had learned he had a day job as taxing as this one, though what you weren’t sure, and yet he never showed exhaustion. He pushed forwards with no hesitation.

If you were more like that, your life would probably blissful, or at least better. You could retaliate against Bruno. You could scold your mother for all her failures. You could pull yourself out of the hellhole you resided in and march triumphantly through life.

But you weren’t him. You were barely a functioning person, with a screwed-up scent gland and no passion to draw people in. Maybe then you could have been scouted and accepted to a pack. At least there you would have some sort of purpose.

No, that wasn’t true anymore, was it?

You did have one: Helping the Albert Wesker change the world. Sure, you were practically meaningless, he could do all of this without you. But he was choosing not to. He, instead, wanted you to aid him, no matter what that looked like.

Maybe that’s why you never said no.

“You are personally familiar with Edington’s work, correct?” The trap was set. You knew this line of questioning was coming, and you knew what happened if you took the bait. But what was even the reward if you said nothing? Bruno wouldn’t thank you for saving his ass. No matter what, you were scum to him. At least with taking the bait, you could earn some favorability with the one who set the trap.

“I am.”

Though his body sat relaxed in his chair and the sunglass were high on his nose, you felt his gaze, analyzing you. Every detail, every twitch, he caught all of it.

“He’s been delaying giving us most of his reports in recent months, before meeting you. He has seemed to catch on that we can’t quite fire him or reprimand him for it, due to his importance to the project he’s assigned to. But that doesn’t negate that we still need updates on his project.”

“What specifically do you need?”

“The results of his most recent experiment where he tested his project on a live subject.”

You took a moment to think, then replayed your memory of the last report. “I can write it out for you if you’d like?”

His head tilted slightly. “Can you?”

“Of course. I transcribed it for him.” You opened up to a clear page on your notepad and began to write. He walked around, looking over your shoulder while you write. “It might take a bit. It was a long study; he observed the subject for about three days.”

He goes quiet. This isn’t new, he’s always quiet. But it’s a different quiet. Like there’s something on his tongue waiting to come out. You decide not to worry about it; he’ll speak if he wishes to.

The timer goes off again and he moves away.

Sometime later you told him you finished, and he returned to your side.

“Is it common for you to remember everything you’ve ever wrote?” He asks after he’s flipped through the first few pages.

“Well, yeah,” you reply, confused. “Is that odd?”

Once again, you’re met with silence. Until.

“Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Month four.

You’re faced with a dilemma.

Wesker taught you to do a basic version of lab reports, as he’s been getting busier and busier, needing you to do more. So you’ve been writing a few reports here and there. Almost like a slight reversal of roles. He takes down brief notes, you write up a report, though he usually proofreads it before finalizing it into the records.

But the DNA sequences in front of you are wrong. Some of the pairs aren’t correct- adenine doesn’t pair with cytosine. And some of the sequences you do see aren’t recorded. If he found a new sequence of genes that had never been recorded, you’d know right?

He’s never come across as unfocused before, but these past few days he has been off. Hell, two days ago he called off your nightly sessions early, seemingly too out of it to continue. Whatever had him off was probably the reason that admins from the corporate side of things have been around way more.

That’s probably the reason Bruno’s been more insufferable lately. Your mother couldn’t get a moment of peace. It felt like every few minutes at home he would go into fits, rambling about things you couldn’t understand, throwing furniture around, he even struck your mom once. He rarely hit her. You were open season, but he always treated her better, bathing her in jewels on their wedding anniversary and gifting her with flowers at every event. He would yell, he would belittle, but he had only ever struck her once before. Back when…

That’s not what matters right now. What matters is you’re looking at a completely messed up gene sequence. You can guess what all these are supposed to be, especially since you remember reading the last sequence from an earlier report.

If you screw it up, he knows it would have been you. It would certainly change his perspective of you. However, if you write it up without at least fixing the pairs, that’s work he’s going to have to go back and redo.

How does that saying go again? Better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Month five.

Wesker messaged you that he wasn’t going to be in the usual lab today, and to make absolute certain that his files were properly put away. You remember Birkin whispering to him about inspections from admins. Figures that Umbrella would keep up with labor laws in their own special way.

You decided to take it a step further and kill time by rearranging the filing cabinet while putting everything away. Taking everything apart to put it back together again. A poetic cycle. One you had been at for an hour now, only just got to the second drawer.

First the date, then alphabetically. Date, then alphabet. Date. Alphabet. Date. Alphabet. Date. Alphabet. Date. Alphabet. Date. Alphabet. No date. No title. A note?

No, a letter.

A letter to Tricell, going over some deal.

You can bet a lot of money that you weren’t supposed to see that. You can bet even more that if someone else in Umbrella saw that, Wesker’s life would become Hell on Earth. Suddenly the tension he’s radiated these last few days, the admins circling like vultures looking for something to tear apart, it all made sense.

You can’t blame him for wanting to leave. Yes, Umbrella valued him, but everyone was expendable to them. Meanwhile, it seems like the people at Tricell would kiss his feet if they could.

Shit, the inspection. Would they really look through every file of a four-drawer cabinet?

Your gut churned, something in the back of your mind nagging you. Yes, they would. If they even remotely suspected him- or Birkin-, they would check every nook and cranny. So where?

If you brought it home, you risk Bruno finding it and if Wesker needed it any time before (highly likely), he wouldn’t be able to get it.

Were there more papers? You highly doubted Wesker would be sloppy enough to leave them out, but if he’s betting on them not going through the whole thing that could be a risk.

You pick up the pace, continuing with the process. If someone goes through this, it needs to look uniform, so nothing seems missing. It took another hour and a half till you finished. There were only 3 more incriminating documents: another letter and two status reports updating whoever at Tricell of his progress.

Now to find the hiding spot. Your eyes scanned over the room. Everything that they could get away with “inspecting” would be checked, cabinets, supplies, hell they probably would check the cleaning supplies. Your eyes landed on the tape. You slipped the papers in folder flap on the inside your notebook then grabbed the tape. Slipping over to your corner, you ducked under the desk, taping it underneath. It was far enough back that a grown person would have to really be looking for it. You took Wesker’s notepad, flipped it upside down, and placed it on the desk; theoretically where the notebook was underneath.

You stepped back, maneuvering around the room, making sure it couldn’t be seen from any angle of the room.

The door opened and you nearly jumped a foot into the air.

Birkin poked his head in. “Are you done? I’m your ride.”

You took a steading breath. “Yes, just finished. Thank you for taking me.”

“Don’t mention it. Grab your things, let’s go. I’m ready for my day off,” he spoke jovially, though his eyes betrayed his exhaustion.

“Of course, nearly forgot,” you injected your voice with carefree humor, walking over to the door. “Lead the way.”

“Not brining your notebook?” He hummed, holding the door wider.

Your heart missed a beat, but you kept your expression neutral. “Not like I’m going to need it, or that anyone is going to move it.”

“Fair enough,” he chirped.

The entire walk and drive, all Birkin could speak of was his daughter. He spoke of her and his wife often. Usually, you’d spend these moments ponder what would have been if your father never left. If he stayed in contact or decided to fight for custody those years ago.

Now you were praying to whatever god would hear you that you did enough. That everything was hidden. That Wesker and his secrets would stay safe. If they found the papers, they’d know you were an accomplice, surely. They’d send Bruno after you, and he’d turn you over to them happily.

The next morning you got a page from Wesker, reminding you that you weren’t needed. You didn’t forget, it haunted you. A whole 24 hours where you didn’t know what was happening.

You tried to find ways to kill time, but your spiraling mind made that hard. Eventually you settled on a new book, reading through lunch and well into the afternoon.

Then your pager went off again.

“No matter what, do not go back to the mansion.”

Fear spiked. “Why? What happened?”

You never received a reply.

Bruno and your mom came home an hour later, slamming the door behind them.

“DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER! THIS COULD SET ME BACK FOR WEEKS!”

He had barely gotten through the door. New record.

You heard the murmur of your mom’s voice, trying to placate, to soothe.

“Woman, do you not hear me? That is history now. They’ll never be able to get the lab under control again, and if they do it won’t be in time. This will ruin me!”

Their voices were drowned out by the sounds of your heartbeat in your ears.

Seems like the gods didn’t care for your prayers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hardly anyone left the house for the following weeks. Thankfully Bruno never left his office, leaving you and your mother to haunt the rest of the house in some semblance of peace.

After about a month, the news reported people going missing in the mountains. Then their bodies were being found, torn to shreds. Dread sat in your stomach like lead. The police department said they feared the work of a cult. You hoped that it was.

Once the calendar turned to July, they announced that the RPD was handing it to S.T.A.R.S.

You didn’t know how much you were missing Wesker until you saw his face on the news. Captain of S.T.A.R.S. No wonder the stress was starting to catch up, he had two jobs that demanded everything of him. You wonder if he’s as good as a boss to them as he was to you. Memories of naps in the lab, him ordering you food whenever he got something, the many times he drove you around. Your heart clenched, and you left your mother to watch the rest of the broadcast alone.

Somehow, learning that Umbrella had its hands in the police didn’t feel shocking. It made too much sense, looking back. Honestly, you felt dumb that you didn’t realize it sooner. They probably had their hands in everything in Raccoon City.

There was no more news on the murders for the next few days. You stopped watching the news after a while, retreating to your room more often.

Bruno was starting to surface more, but he hardly said anything to either of you. It looked like it was starting to take a toll on your mom. She hung off his every word, even the cruel ones.

One morning, it seemed like she got what she wanted. Their words were lost on you, in your room with the door closed, but if the sobs from your mother said anything, it was not words she wanted to hear.

After you heard the slam of his office door, you waited some time to emerge, hoping to make it to the kitchen with no fuss. As you crept down the stairs, you heard the TV on.

Your mom was in the living room. She didn’t turn or greet you. She was watching one of her hospital shows, tear tracks and watery eyes decorating her features. Nothing but a husk.

You don’t know what urged you to sit on the other side of the couch, but you did, focusing in on what she was watching.

It didn’t take long for you to find out why she was upset. The episode featured a battered woman at the mercy of her husband’s wrath. The hospital staff falling over themselves to help her, to heal her, to make it all better.

“It was never supposed to be like this.”

You can’t remember the last time your mom truly talked to you, outside of asking you to pass something at the dinner table. And what’s the first thing she says to you, her only child? Throw a pity party for herself.

“We were supposed to be so happy. He would take care of me, and I’d be his lovely wife.”

The taste of bile filled your mouth.

“Your father was a selfish man; don’t you forget it.”

In a moment, it felt like every slap, every harsh word, every speck of rage, every wave of grief, hit you all at once. Like you were reading that letter again.

“Don’t act like you’re any better.” She turned to you, eyes wide. “If anything, he was lightyears better than you. At least he recognized he wasn’t a good parent. That he wasn’t ready to take care of a kid. You didn’t seem to catch up in time. No, instead you decided to get married to a sadistic bastard who told you from the beginning how this was going to go if you couldn’t get rid of me.”

“Don’t you have any pity for me?” She wailed.

“Why the fuck should I?” Disdain dripped from your mouth like venom. “You let that man torture me for the last decade, and now you’re shocked he turned it to you! This was always going to happen.”

“Your father was supposed to-”

“He never tried to see me for the first 5 years of my life, what made you think that he suddenly would when you got married? That your new husband wasn’t a fan of kids? All he probably thought was ‘Thank goodness I’m not with that crazy bitch.’

No one was going to help you out of the pit you dug. The pit you pulled your daughter into behind you. You were supposed to take care of me, not the other way around. I needed you, and you did nothing. That psycho of a man put me into the hospital, nearly beat me to death, and you didn’t do anything. You didn’t even have the kindness to tell the truth and let CPS take me!

No, I don’t care about what happens to you. You’ve been dead to me for a long time.”

All she could do was sit there and blubber out pathetic sobs, head buried in her hands.

You got up and went to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and a box of cereal, and returned to your room, not even bothering to look at the woman on the couch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You awoke in a cold sweat, terror seeping into your core. Something in the back of your mind howling at danger. You didn’t hesitate, pulling back the covers and getting out of bed, creeping to your door and easing it open, making sure you didn’t make a sound.

Something was wrong. What was wrong? Everything was so quiet. Wasn’t it supposed to be quiet?

You didn’t make a noise as you went down the stairs. The paranoia felt like it was going to eat you alive. It couldn’t be anything, there was no noise. Not after your confrontation with your mom two days ago. The house was silent.

You moved quietly throughout the house. First the living room, then down the hall, the bathroom. You didn’t bother trying Bruno’s office. You then crossed over to the kitchen. Nothing there. Nothing moved or out of place. All was well, this was just your paranoia talking.

Then you turned to the garage. Last room, then you could go back to bed, and it would all be done.

When you opened the door, a bitter metallic smell assaulted your nose. There was something on a tarp in the middle of the room, liquid surrounding it. You didn’t need to turn the light on, you knew. The figure was too familiar, one you’d seen all your life.

You felt like you were going to puke. Closing the door, you made your way as quietly and quickly back to your room as possible.

What could you even do? The police weren’t going to help you. There was no doubt in your mind Bruno had something to keep him out of jail. Whether that’s connections or tampering with evidence, he was secure. Who is there to turn to?

The moment you stepped in, you locked the door behind you and looked around your room, looking for some sign. The pager on the nightstand called to you like a siren. You hadn’t heard from Wesker since his warning about the mansion. He wouldn’t answer. That you knew. But what other options did you have? You might as well keep it brief.

Help me, please.

If he didn’t come, he didn’t come. You tried. Your final swan song. Your final prayer to a god that never answered.

The rest of the night passed in a haze. You sat at the foot of your bed, your pager in your hand like a lifeline. At one point the idea of packing a bag and running crossed your mind, but you didn’t have an idea of where to go. You didn’t know if there were any shelters in Raccoon City, or where they would be. You had no friends. No teachers, mentors, family. You had no choices.

No one was coming to save you.

Eventually the sun began to rise, lighting the world ablaze, marching forward, never-ending. After the fiery shades faded away into the cold blue sky, you heard Bruno’s footsteps as he passed your room and made his way down the stairs. You would need to head down soon yourself. He’d be expecting you to keep to routine, and breakfast was a meal everyone attended, even when it was dead silent, and no one would look at each other. You put a lot of thought into what you picked out to wear for the day. Something comfortable and cozy, in your favorite color. A send off.

As you walked down the stairs, you wondered if this was how the girls accused of witchcraft felt, marching to a death that you don’t deserve.

“Good morning,” Bruno huffed. “Up a bit early.”

“Morning,” you said, keeping your voice meeker, trying to pass off as sleepy. “Just woke up earlier than normal.”

His gaze didn’t leave you, analyzing everything you were doing. You knew what question he was expecting next.

“Where’s mom?” The word ‘mom’ felt vile on your tongue, but you had a part to play. As far as he was concerned, you believed everything was what it was yesterday.

He replied, “She had to leave to get something this morning.”

“Ah,” you hum. You needed a plan; this conversation was not going to go far at this rate. Maybe if you go quiet, act like you’re checked out. He’ll eventually retreat to his office and leave you be.

Will he, though? What was stopping him from killing you now? You screaming? The neighbors might not even hear it, if they do, they won’t be too fazed. Screaming came out of this house often once upon a time. They didn’t do anything then; they won’t do anything now.

The doorbell rings.

Bruno’s head snaps to you. “Who the hell is that?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s one of mom’s packages,” you responded. “I’ll go see.”

You trekked your way to the door, running out of ideas and hope. You couldn’t play stupid forever, if he wasn’t already planning on adding you to the tarp now..

You opened the door.

Wesker stood on the other side, wearing his sunglasses and usual business attire. In place of his lab coat, however, he wore a black trench coat. You couldn’t care less what he was wearing, he was here, and you could have wept in relief. You sent him a pleading look, trying to figure out the best way to communicate the problem without tipping off-

“Who’s at the door?” Bruno yelled. Footsteps sounded from inside. He was walking closer.

His brows furrowed ever so slightly, his head subtly raising to look beyond you.

You turned just in time to see Bruno round the corner, and his expression dropped like he just saw a ghost.

“D-doctor Wesker,” he stammered.

“I apologize for my unannounced arrival. My assistant and you have some things I need.” Wesker’s voice sounded pleased, like the cat that got the cream. He was enjoying making Bruno squirm.

Bruno looked between the two of you for a moment, before his face became completely blank. “Of course,” his voice was quieter than normal, as if he was hesitant to be heard. “I believe I know what you’re discussing.” His gaze then fell on you. “I’ll need your help, to my office please.”

You became numb for a moment. Bruno couldn’t have figured it out yet, right? Maybe he wanted to use you to get on Wesker’s good side?

“Sure,” you said. “Let me show him to the living room, then I’ll be there.”

Bruno stalked off down the hall, but you didn’t hear the door to his office open. You led Wesker in, eyes scanning the living room. There was no pen and paper, no way to communicate directly. Clues, you needed to leave clues.

Your eyes fell on a small songbird statue your mom kept on the end table by the couch. You made sure he was looking as you slowly lifted your hand and turned it to where the bird beak pointing into the kitchen to the garage door. Bruno wouldn’t have had enough time to have gone in there and changed it around. Wesker can see the stakes for himself.

Wesker turned, following the invisible line, turned his head back to you and nodded. You headed over to the hallway, making your footsteps more exaggerated to hide any noise he made in his movement.

When you rounded the corner, Bruno opened the door to his office and held his arm out.

Suddenly you realized how dumb this was, agreeing to be alone with him. But Wesker was in the building. He was down the hall, in the garage, could easily hear you. You just needed to be ready to scream.

As you stepped into the room, you scanned it over. You’d never been in here before; you needed to get a feel for it quickly in case-

You hit the wall hard, the wind leaving your body. It took you too long to realize there was a hand against your throat.

“You fucking bitch,” he snarled. “I should have killed you a long time ago.”

It was starting to get hard to focus. No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t get his hand off. Thought was starting to leave. You did the last thing you could thing of and went for his eye.

He released you with a wail, blood gushing from his eye. You dropped to the ground, sucking air back into your lungs, trying to crawl as fast as you could. A hand grabbed your foot, trying to pull you back. You finally got enough air to scream as loud as you could. Bruno smacked you hard across the face, resulting in your head hitting the ground. You kicked wildly, hitting him in the face, causing him to release you. You managed to get yourself up enough to grab something off of his desk and swung it back on him as he tried to grab you again. The lamp collided with his face, and he slumped back down. You charged forward managing to get around to underneath his desk, catching your breath.

A loud crash came from behind, before an ear rattling pop, and then silence. After a moment, steady footsteps.

Wesker came around the side and crouched in front of the opening. He whispers your name, like one might whisper to a wild animal, trying to soothe them.

“He tried to kill me.” It’s all you could think. All you could wheeze out of your tired body. You felt so tired. And lightheaded. “I don’t think I can stand.”

“I can help you,” he murmurs, slowly extending his hand. “When you’re ready.”

You take a deep breath before taking it. As suspected, when you begin to stand, you get dizzy, almost losing your balance completely. His arm stays steady as you lean your weight on it. Everything hurts.

“My head hurts,” you whimper.

“I know,” he replies. He repositions himself, tucking you closer to him as he leads you through the room. You tried to look around, but you couldn’t see much with how he had you against him.

You don’t fully remember the walk to the living room. He sat you down on the sofa, standing in front of you.

“Where did you get hit?”

“I-I g-got slammed into a wall,” you stammer. “Then I fell.” You wrung your hands, then you felt something sticky, looking down at them. There was blood on your hands.

He snapped his fingers; you looked back at him. “Look at me when speaking. What else?”

“I-” Everything felt fuzzy. “I don’t really remember right now. It was so fast.”

He nods, reaching to the blinds behind the couch and closing them. “Stay sitting up and keep an eye on that clock for me.”

“Ok.” You watched it, taking note of home many seconds pass, though it was hard to keep track.

 He left for the kitchen. You heard the fridge being opened and of the tap running, but kept focus on the clock, as he asked. He walked back in with a rag and cup of water in his hand.

“Keep this on your forehead, but don’t lay down. If you start to feel something pressing on your sinus cavity, you will tell me immediately. Slow sips of the water.”

You took the rag and followed his instructions. “What’s wrong?”

“You most likely have a concussion,” he stated. “Try to stay awake until I give you the clear to.”

You nod. Then looked around the room as you took a sip of the water. Your eyes landed on the bird statue.

“Did you find her?”

There was a pause. “Yes, I did.”

You didn’t reply, just kept taking slow sips, taking in the dim light and cool cloth. Soon the water ran out. Then why was your face wet?

“What’s going to happen to me?” Your voice sounded strained, weak. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. What did it matter if he saw you as pathetic? There was nothing more you could offer him now.

“You’re going to pack everything you care about from this house. I’m going to go through his files and take everything I need, and then we are going to leave.”

[noblesandsstories]

So there's two ways to do this. I can split this into two chapters or keep it as one mega long ass chapter. What do y'all want to pallet?

Next chapter of Venomous Ties coming out sometime this week I think...

[noblesandsstories]

Next chapter of Venomous Ties coming out sometime this week I think...

[noblesandsstories]

I might have to label this next chapter of VT DD:DNE. This got waay darker than I intended

[noblesandsstories]

Gods she's so pretty

ms. ada wong look this way please

[noblesandsstories]

If a biologist asks me a single question after this next chapter...

(/j obviously)

[noblesandsstories]

Please tell me ya'll remember her cause I only just met this bitch and im in love

[noblesandsstories]

Mirror

This is just a little poem I found that I wrote a while ago. A bit different from my normal stuff, but felt like it might resonate with some people.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~My hair looked short in the mirror,

My heart grew wings,

To finally have a piece back,

To not cower at what I see,

But I had to put my contacts on

as you're supposed to do,

My hair is still long,

My nose is still crooked too.

[noblesandsstories]

I'm having waaayyy too much fun writing Wesker and Birkin's banter

[noblesandsstories]

Becoming a writer is great because now you have a hobby that haunts you whenever you don’t have time to do it

[noblesandsstories]

I'M CACKLING THE FUCKING GLASSES HIS LITTLE ANIME EYE I CANT

that one twitter meme from earlier this year

[noblesandsstories]

My heart is overflowing with the love I've seen for Venomous, it's truly touched me. Chapter 2 might take a while for 2 big reasons. 1) School has started back up and 2) There's a lot of information I'm wanting to get across, and it's going to be very wacky in outline. This is going to be the ugly duckling chapter to get to the beautiful swan that is the rest of the story.

Venomous Ties

Chapter 1- Did it's people want too much too?

Alpha Albert Wesker x AFAB!Reader

-> ANGST; Omegaverse; I don’t know how old Wesker is in the games, but I’m assuming old enough for this to be labeled “Older Man, Younger Woman”; Age gap; Domestic abuse; Allusions to physical abuse; This get’s dark, especially these first two chapters; Suicidal ideation/thoughts; Toxic, controlling, and abusive stepfather; Neglectful mother; the whole nine yards; Some canon has been manipulated, but it's meant to work with the lore I know about.

AN: Goodness gracious. I haven't edited this, it's barely proofread. This is such an odd project for me to feel passionate about, but nonetheless I do. PLEASE adhere to the tags. This fic starts dark and it gets darker. Take care of yourselves my friends. The world is very cold right now.

Title is from "Nobody" by Mitski

Border made by @sweetmelodygraphics

You opened the door only wide enough to let you slip inside. You were early to the meeting and were not surprised to see only two people there. Both were blond, one being slightly shorter. His coat was a bit more rumpled, and his hair was shaggier. The taller one wore sunglasses, his hair was perfectly slicked back, and his coat was perfectly straightening and clean. They turned to look at you, their faces dropping into scowls.

Better get this over with.

“I’m here to write notes of the meeting for Dr. Edington.” You move towards one of the seats in the back. No point in sitting front and center.

“Why can’t he be here himself? He’s rather needed for this,” the one without glasses snipped.

They had every right to be upset, mad even. Bruno had been the main reason this meeting was called and now he sends some random person in to just take notes on his behalf. You’d be pissed too. But you can’t say that.

“I’m sorry, sir. He didn’t tell me where he went, just to take notes.” At this you sat down, opening your notebook to the next clear page.

“He left?” The man’s voice was almost shrill. You could feel the heat of the other man’s gaze through his glasses. It was time to prepare for the worst.

“Yes, sir.”

The man next to him finally spoke. “We can’t let just anyone sit in.”

“I understand.” You flipped your notebook closed. You’d probably get kicked out, then you could figure your way back to Bruno’s office. He was the one who was going to have to answer for this. No skin off your back. Maybe a bruise on the arm, but not much more. “I apologize that there’s not more I can tell you.”

You look up to find that the man with the sunglasses standing above you. He was possibly the most intimidating person you’ve ever seen. Tall and bulky, but able to move silently with a face and voice that gave away nothing of how he was feeling.

“Identify yourself.”

You give him your first name, not knowing if Bruno would appreciate telling them your last. “Dr. Edington keeps me as a record keeper of sorts. I organize his files, transcribe his notes during his lab sessions, and other tasks like that if needed.”

He put a packet in front of you on the table.

“Then perhaps you can answer the questions we have pertaining to this. Specifically, why it’s written in gibberish?”

You look down and with a few words knew exactly what the problem was. You flip it over to read the code on the back to confirm your suspicions.

“It seems he gave you the coded report.”

“Coded?”

“Yes, sir. I write the notes for the lab session, he writes it in official terms and in code, and when he needs to send a lab report out, I translate it back.” You flip open the notebook again, beginning to go through word by word.

“Do you know it off the top of your head?”

“Yes sir, most of it. Since it’s a shorter one, I can probably get what I can done in 30 minutes.”

One singular eyebrow raised at your statement. “If you can’t complete all of it?”

“It’s a book code, sir. I can go back to the office and pick out what I don’t recall. That might take slightly longer but not by much.”

He only gave a slight tilt of the head in response, standing quietly above you. The other man spoke up.

“This is highly classified information that we are just handing to a random woman, we can’t just give it to her.”

“Edington has already been giving her plenty to work with and she saves us one conversation with him.”

There was more silence as the men hovered, until another person in a lab coat walked in, a few more behind them. The man in the sunglasses turned to them. “This meeting is cancelled for today. Continue your projects as normal and we will get back to you for rescheduling.” The others didn’t hesitate before leaving, not glancing past the man in the sunglasses once. He turned back to you.

“I’ll be by Edington’s office in an hour and a half to collect that report. Be expecting me.”

You grabbed everything off the table and stood. “Of course, sir, I’ll have it done.” You gave a quick nod and “Have a good afternoon” to the other man before slipping out the door.

It didn’t take you as long to get back to Bruno’s office. He was still gone, though he would probably be gone for a while.

You mulled over what candle you wanted to use as you pulled out the books for the code, deciding on a weaker clean scent. Faint enough that, hopefully, by the time the man with the glasses arrived the smell would be gone, but enough to get rid of the sterile smell of the environment. On some level, you understood the need for a lab full of serious science projects to not stink of the various smells that people exude, especially to avoid hormonal nonsense. But it still was harsh on the nose, and you weren’t an official employee anyways. You could feign innocence, and hope that they wouldn’t be too harsh. Or would at least make whatever they did to punish people around here quick.

You got it done easily, with nearly an hour to spare. You blew out the candle and turned on the fan, before picking up the book you were working on. It was a book covering the of basics of virology that Bruno kept. It was dull but kept interest while you waited for…. Anything.

Bruno to return, probably mad at something. That man from this morning, picking up the translated copy. Your mom, whisking you to a new city. As if.

The door opened. It was the second option, as the man walked in. You glanced at the clock on the wall. Early by 40 minutes.

“Enjoying yourself?” He hums, walking into the office.

“Taking in the quiet,” you say, putting the book down and moving over to the desk. “If I may, what’s your name?”

He stilled, before answering “Wesker.”

“Spelt how it sounds?”

He nodded, and you wrote down “Wesker Copy” on the back of the notes.

“Could you not type and print it?”

“I don’t have access to the system, and I don’t know where the printer room is, apologies.”

He takes it, flipping through the pages. “This will work for now. Tell your stepfather-”

You felt like your head was shoved underwater, white noise draining out the rest of his words. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Pardon?”

“He… he doesn’t like it when people call him that.”

A beat of silence went by. Then he slowly replied, “Understood.”

“Sorry, didn’t meant to take up your time. I’m sure you have work to get back to.”

“I do indeed. I’ll be seeing you.”

You really hoped not but kept that to yourself. “Have a good day, sir.”

He lingered for just a moment before slipping out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruno wasn’t happy when he appeared later. He barely said anything except that you were leaving when he entered the office and was mute in the car. Didn’t ask about how the meeting went or what his coworkers said. He didn’t even take the time to list all of the reasons you shouldn’t have been born. Just silent. It honestly wasn’t that bad, except the sour smell of his fury permeated the air. Like the quiet before a volcan erupts.

And erupt it did.

The lamp got it as he sent it flying across the living room when you walked in. Your mom, who seemed like she was going to greet you at the door, vacated the premises promptly. You don’t blame her. You would too if you could. Unfortunately, mercy died long ago.

“What the hell did you say to him, you little snake?” He growled.

The back of your mind tingled, warning you to flee, but you knew better. Running from predators never worked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, keeping your voice neutral and calm. “He asked about the file you sent him, I told him you must have accidentally sent a coded one, and translated it for him as he asked.”

“Bullshit,” he barked. “I met Wesker in the hallway on my way back and now I have him up my ass about irresponsibility and not doing my damn job. So, what. Did. You. Say?”

“I told you, nothing more than that.” You knew your plea was useless, you knew. But silence was worse.

“I’m the alpha of this household, you are to cater to me. And if you think after today, you’ll be fed and cared for, think again. Go to your room and stay there. I’ll tell you when you can leave.”

It’s a more favorable punishment. You don’t argue, don’t whimper, don’t cry. You slink away, briefly meeting your mom’s gaze from where she stands at the kitchen door before she looks down and turns back to whatever she was cooking. And you return to your march to your exile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The next few days went as they usually do. Taking your pills in the morning to the sound of Bruno yelling at your mom about breakfast or the state of the house or simply because he was mad.

He dragged you to his job, made you do a bunch of work you’re pretty sure was his responsibility anyways, and kept to the status quo. Until you pissed him off royally.

You thought you had written all the data down correctly during one of his lab sessions. Turns out you missed something, because he was furious. Going on about how your mistake cost him reputation with a coworker and so on and so forth. He was never clear when he yelled about something, and it used to frustrate you to no end. (Now it’s normal. And for some reason that thought stings.)

He stormed out around 3 in the afternoon.

Now it was 7 at night and the building was empty.

This isn’t new. He’s done this once before. That time you walked the 5 hour walk back only to find the doors locked and no one up, resulting in you sneaking into the backyard and sleeping in one of the lawn chairs.

This time you decided to cut your losses and stay in the labs. If you were going to sleep somewhere uncomfortable, you’ll save yourself the walk and stay where there is heating.

You made your way to the break room cautiously, hoping not to set off any form of security. Though now that you think about it, at least in jail they feed you. You chuckled to yourself as you walked up to the door, noticing the lights on. There was the smell of something in the air, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. You opened the door as silently as possible, poking your head in…

To find Wesker staring at you.

“Now what are you doing here this late?” He sounded almost amused at seeing you. “Have you decided to make a hole here, little mouse?”

“My ride forgot me,” you tried to add a lighthearted flare to your words to keep the mood light, taking in the room. It was empty except for you and Wesker who was eating, what you assume, leftovers out of a container. He wasn’t wearing his lab coat, instead just the usual button up and pants number that most of the people around here wore, though he lacked a tie.

One eyebrow raised at your answer. “Do you not have a way home?”

“I’ll live.” You began to rummage around the cabinets hoping for anything that could help through the night.

“You’re not convincing me.” He came up behind you, reaching up, opening the upper cabinet, and pulling out something, and putting a bar in your hand. “Can’t have the cornerstone of Edington’s work starving, now, can we?”

“I’m not doing that much. He does research, I write down what he tells me to.” It took some prying to open the package.

“Most of this job is writing things down.” His face remains neutral, almost impossible to read. It’s a struggle trying to decide if it’s terrifying or not. “If he can’t do that without assistance, he needs to consider other careers.”

“Probably an understatement,” you mumble, not paying attention, just biting into the bar. Was it the best thing you’ve ever eaten? No. But it was edible and that was good enough.

“What makes you say that?”

You froze. It felt like you were a deer on the other side of a hunter’s rifle. One wrong move and it was all over. Sure, Wesker seemed like he held as much disdain for Bruno that you did, but if word got back to him, it was a world of misery for you.

The room was silent for a few minutes before he just hummed, “Interesting.”

“What?” you croaked.

“Don’t worry about it. What’s your education level?”

You hesitated. “Graduated Raccoon City High a few years ago.”

“College?”

“I want to go, but Bruno won’t have it. Says it’ll be a waste of money.”

“Yet you do a majority of his work?”

This whole conversation felt like a trap. You look away and focus on the bar, eating it as slow as possible, hoping to buy some time. And wishing you had something to drink. Maybe the fridge has some waters stocked? They’re not for you though.

They’re for the people doing important things with their lives. People with homes. Maybe pets. Probably loving family and friends who’s lives haven’t been so fucked up that they might as well be… dead. No one would notice you missing. No one would care or weep. Sure, your mom might tear up, but if anything, your dead might cause Bruno to chill out.

Fingers snapping in front of your face brings you back to the room, a bottle of water now sitting in front of you.

“There you are, I thought I lost you,” he hums.

Your cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I think I’m just a bit tired. I’ll take this and go back to Bruno’s office.”

“Last I recall, he doesn’t own a couch or anything of that nature.”

“There’s an armchair, I’ve napped in it a few times.”

He shakes his head. “This lab is connected to a manor with plenty of rooms to spare, I’ll escort you to one.”

“There’s no need, I’m sure they’re for something important.”

He huffs a laugh while grabbing his coat. “Hardly, it remains mostly empty, unless Spencer has guests to attend to.”

“Will he not-”

“He’s away and leaves me to look after it. Any mess you leave behind the maids will tend to.” He stood expectantly by the door. You got the hint, grabbing the bottle of water.

You thought the lab was one of the most confusing places you had ever gone through, but after a minute or two of walking through the mansion you quicky changed your mind. Between the winding halls and the turns and staircases, by the time he opened the door to a room, you were convinced you’d never get out.

You stepped in to one of the most lavish and ornate rooms you had ever seen. A large four poster bed sat in the middle of the room, a giant elegant wardrobe to the side, and a desk up by a window. There was a door off to the side.

“That leads to the en suite bathroom. Anything else?”

“Do you have a list of directions out?”

He laughed. It was weird, this man who hardly showed any emotion laughing so suddenly. It was almost off putting. But it was the first laugh you had heard in a long time, and something made it feel special.

“I’ll get you in the morning. I’m sure there will be things to talk about.”

Not foreboding at all.

“Goodnight, Doctor Wesker.”

“Goodnight my dear.”

[noblesandsstories]

I think my favorite part about Resident Evil is Wesker is mysterious enough that you can kind BS your way through his behavior sometimes, especially before RE1. How would he behave in this scenario? Who knows! Not me!

[noblesandsstories]

HE WAS BORN IN WHAT YEAR?

[noblesandsstories]

In case anyone wants to know how slow I write, I started Venomous Ties when I set this and have worked on it almost every day since.

The voices have won, here we go I guess

[noblesandsstories]

Venomous Ties

Chapter 1- Did it's people want too much too?

Alpha Albert Wesker x ????!AFAB!Reader

-> ANGST; Omegaverse; I don’t know how old Wesker is in the games, but I’m assuming old enough for this to be labeled “Older Man, Younger Woman”; Age gap; Domestic abuse; Allusions to physical abuse; This get’s dark, especially these first two chapters; Suicidal ideation/thoughts; Toxic, controlling, and abusive stepfather; Neglectful mother; the whole nine yards; Some canon has been manipulated, but it's meant to work with the lore I know about.

AN: Goodness gracious. I haven't edited this, it's barely proofread. This is such an odd project for me to feel passionate about, but nonetheless I do. PLEASE adhere to the tags. This fic starts dark and it gets darker. Take care of yourselves my friends. The world is very cold right now.

Title is from "Nobody" by Mitski

Border made by @sweetmelodygraphics

You opened the door only wide enough to let you slip inside. You were early to the meeting and were not surprised to see only two people there. Both were blond, one being slightly shorter. His coat was a bit more rumpled, and his hair was shaggier. The taller one wore sunglasses, his hair was perfectly slicked back, and his coat was perfectly straightening and clean. They turned to look at you, their faces dropping into scowls.

Better get this over with.

“I’m here to write notes of the meeting for Dr. Edington.” You move towards one of the seats in the back. No point in sitting front and center.

“Why can’t he be here himself? He’s rather needed for this,” the one without glasses snipped.

They had every right to be upset, mad even. Bruno had been the main reason this meeting was called and now he sends some random person in to just take notes on his behalf. You’d be pissed too. But you can’t say that.

“I’m sorry, sir. He didn’t tell me where he went, just to take notes.” At this you sat down, opening your notebook to the next clear page.

“He left?” The man’s voice was almost shrill. You could feel the heat of the other man’s gaze through his glasses. It was time to prepare for the worst.

“Yes, sir.”

The man next to him finally spoke. “We can’t let just anyone sit in.”

“I understand.” You flipped your notebook closed. You’d probably get kicked out, then you could figure your way back to Bruno’s office. He was the one who was going to have to answer for this. No skin off your back. Maybe a bruise on the arm, but not much more. “I apologize that there’s not more I can tell you.”

You look up to find that the man with the sunglasses standing above you. He was possibly the most intimidating person you’ve ever seen. Tall and bulky, but able to move silently with a face and voice that gave away nothing of how he was feeling.

“Identify yourself.”

You give him your first name, not knowing if Bruno would appreciate telling them your last. “Dr. Edington keeps me as a record keeper of sorts. I organize his files, transcribe his notes during his lab sessions, and other tasks like that if needed.”

He put a packet in front of you on the table.

“Then perhaps you can answer the questions we have pertaining to this. Specifically, why it’s written in gibberish?”

You look down and with a few words knew exactly what the problem was. You flip it over to read the code on the back to confirm your suspicions.

“It seems he gave you the coded report.”

“Coded?”

“Yes, sir. I write the notes for the lab session, he writes it in official terms and in code, and when he needs to send a lab report out, I translate it back.” You flip open the notebook again, beginning to go through word by word.

“Do you know it off the top of your head?”

“Yes sir, most of it. Since it’s a shorter one, I can probably get what I can done in 30 minutes.”

One singular eyebrow raised at your statement. “If you can’t complete all of it?”

“It’s a book code, sir. I can go back to the office and pick out what I don’t recall. That might take slightly longer but not by much.”

He only gave a slight tilt of the head in response, standing quietly above you. The other man spoke up.

“This is highly classified information that we are just handing to a random woman, we can’t just give it to her.”

“Edington has already been giving her plenty to work with and she saves us one conversation with him.”

There was more silence as the men hovered, until another person in a lab coat walked in, a few more behind them. The man in the sunglasses turned to them. “This meeting is cancelled for today. Continue your projects as normal and we will get back to you for rescheduling.” The others didn’t hesitate before leaving, not glancing past the man in the sunglasses once. He turned back to you.

“I’ll be by Edington’s office in an hour and a half to collect that report. Be expecting me.”

You grabbed everything off the table and stood. “Of course, sir, I’ll have it done.” You gave a quick nod and “Have a good afternoon” to the other man before slipping out the door.

It didn’t take you as long to get back to Bruno’s office. He was still gone, though he would probably be gone for a while.

You mulled over what candle you wanted to use as you pulled out the books for the code, deciding on a weaker clean scent. Faint enough that, hopefully, by the time the man with the glasses arrived the smell would be gone, but enough to get rid of the sterile smell of the environment. On some level, you understood the need for a lab full of serious science projects to not stink of the various smells that people exude, especially to avoid hormonal nonsense. But it still was harsh on the nose, and you weren’t an official employee anyways. You could feign innocence, and hope that they wouldn’t be too harsh. Or would at least make whatever they did to punish people around here quick.

You got it done easily, with nearly an hour to spare. You blew out the candle and turned on the fan, before picking up the book you were working on. It was a book covering the of basics of virology that Bruno kept. It was dull but kept interest while you waited for…. Anything.

Bruno to return, probably mad at something. That man from this morning, picking up the translated copy. Your mom, whisking you to a new city. As if.

The door opened. It was the second option, as the man walked in. You glanced at the clock on the wall. Early by 40 minutes.

“Enjoying yourself?” He hums, walking into the office.

“Taking in the quiet,” you say, putting the book down and moving over to the desk. “If I may, what’s your name?”

He stilled, before answering “Wesker.”

“Spelt how it sounds?”

He nodded, and you wrote down “Wesker Copy” on the back of the notes.

“Could you not type and print it?”

“I don’t have access to the system, and I don’t know where the printer room is, apologies.”

He takes it, flipping through the pages. “This will work for now. Tell your stepfather-”

You felt like your head was shoved underwater, white noise draining out the rest of his words. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Pardon?”

“He… he doesn’t like it when people call him that.”

A beat of silence went by. Then he slowly replied, “Understood.”

“Sorry, didn’t meant to take up your time. I’m sure you have work to get back to.”

“I do indeed. I’ll be seeing you.”

You really hoped not but kept that to yourself. “Have a good day, sir.”

He lingered for just a moment before slipping out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruno wasn’t happy when he appeared later. He barely said anything except that you were leaving when he entered the office and was mute in the car. Didn’t ask about how the meeting went or what his coworkers said. He didn’t even take the time to list all of the reasons you shouldn’t have been born. Just silent. It honestly wasn’t that bad, except the sour smell of his fury permeated the air. Like the quiet before a volcan erupts.

And erupt it did.

The lamp got it as he sent it flying across the living room when you walked in. Your mom, who seemed like she was going to greet you at the door, vacated the premises promptly. You don’t blame her. You would too if you could. Unfortunately, mercy died long ago.

“What the hell did you say to him, you little snake?” He growled.

The back of your mind tingled, warning you to flee, but you knew better. Running from predators never worked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, keeping your voice neutral and calm. “He asked about the file you sent him, I told him you must have accidentally sent a coded one, and translated it for him as he asked.”

“Bullshit,” he barked. “I met Wesker in the hallway on my way back and now I have him up my ass about irresponsibility and not doing my damn job. So, what. Did. You. Say?”

“I told you, nothing more than that.” You knew your plea was useless, you knew. But silence was worse.

“I’m the alpha of this household, you are to cater to me. And if you think after today, you’ll be fed and cared for, think again. Go to your room and stay there. I’ll tell you when you can leave.”

It’s a more favorable punishment. You don’t argue, don’t whimper, don’t cry. You slink away, briefly meeting your mom’s gaze from where she stands at the kitchen door before she looks down and turns back to whatever she was cooking. And you return to your march to your exile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The next few days went as they usually do. Taking your pills in the morning to the sound of Bruno yelling at your mom about breakfast or the state of the house or simply because he was mad.

He dragged you to his job, made you do a bunch of work you’re pretty sure was his responsibility anyways, and kept to the status quo. Until you pissed him off royally.

You thought you had written all the data down correctly during one of his lab sessions. Turns out you missed something, because he was furious. Going on about how your mistake cost him reputation with a coworker and so on and so forth. He was never clear when he yelled about something, and it used to frustrate you to no end. (Now it’s normal. And for some reason that thought stings.)

He stormed out around 3 in the afternoon.

Now it was 7 at night and the building was empty.

This isn’t new. He’s done this once before. That time you walked the 5 hour walk back only to find the doors locked and no one up, resulting in you sneaking into the backyard and sleeping in one of the lawn chairs.

This time you decided to cut your losses and stay in the labs. If you were going to sleep somewhere uncomfortable, you’ll save yourself the walk and stay where there is heating.

You made your way to the break room cautiously, hoping not to set off any form of security. Though now that you think about it, at least in jail they feed you. You chuckled to yourself as you walked up to the door, noticing the lights on. There was the smell of something in the air, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. You opened the door as silently as possible, poking your head in…

To find Wesker staring at you.

“Now what are you doing here this late?” He sounded almost amused at seeing you. “Have you decided to make a hole here, little mouse?”

“My ride forgot me,” you tried to add a lighthearted flare to your words to keep the mood light, taking in the room. It was empty except for you and Wesker who was eating, what you assume, leftovers out of a container. He wasn’t wearing his lab coat, instead just the usual button up and pants number that most of the people around here wore, though he lacked a tie.

One eyebrow raised at your answer. “Do you not have a way home?”

“I’ll live.” You began to rummage around the cabinets hoping for anything that could help through the night.

“You’re not convincing me.” He came up behind you, reaching up, opening the upper cabinet, and pulling out something, and putting a bar in your hand. “Can’t have the cornerstone of Edington’s work starving, now, can we?”

“I’m not doing that much. He does research, I write down what he tells me to.” It took some prying to open the package.

“Most of this job is writing things down.” His face remains neutral, almost impossible to read. It’s a struggle trying to decide if it’s terrifying or not. “If he can’t do that without assistance, he needs to consider other careers.”

“Probably an understatement,” you mumble, not paying attention, just biting into the bar. Was it the best thing you’ve ever eaten? No. But it was edible and that was good enough.

“What makes you say that?”

You froze. It felt like you were a deer on the other side of a hunter’s rifle. One wrong move and it was all over. Sure, Wesker seemed like he held as much disdain for Bruno that you did, but if word got back to him, it was a world of misery for you.

The room was silent for a few minutes before he just hummed, “Interesting.”

“What?” you croaked.

“Don’t worry about it. What’s your education level?”

You hesitated. “Graduated Raccoon City High a few years ago.”

“College?”

“I want to go, but Bruno won’t have it. Says it’ll be a waste of money.”

“Yet you do a majority of his work?”

This whole conversation felt like a trap. You look away and focus on the bar, eating it as slow as possible, hoping to buy some time. And wishing you had something to drink. Maybe the fridge has some waters stocked? They’re not for you though.

They’re for the people doing important things with their lives. People with homes. Maybe pets. Probably loving family and friends who’s lives haven’t been so fucked up that they might as well be… dead. No one would notice you missing. No one would care or weep. Sure, your mom might tear up, but if anything, your dead might cause Bruno to chill out.

Fingers snapping in front of your face brings you back to the room, a bottle of water now sitting in front of you.

“There you are, I thought I lost you,” he hums.

Your cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I think I’m just a bit tired. I’ll take this and go back to Bruno’s office.”

“Last I recall, he doesn’t own a couch or anything of that nature.”

“There’s an armchair, I’ve napped in it a few times.”

He shakes his head. “This lab is connected to a manor with plenty of rooms to spare, I’ll escort you to one.”

“There’s no need, I’m sure they’re for something important.”

He huffs a laugh while grabbing his coat. “Hardly, it remains mostly empty, unless Spencer has guests to attend to.”

“Will he not-”

“He’s away and leaves me to look after it. Any mess you leave behind the maids will tend to.” He stood expectantly by the door. You got the hint, grabbing the bottle of water.

You thought the lab was one of the most confusing places you had ever gone through, but after a minute or two of walking through the mansion you quicky changed your mind. Between the winding halls and the turns and staircases, by the time he opened the door to a room, you were convinced you’d never get out.

You stepped in to one of the most lavish and ornate rooms you had ever seen. A large four poster bed sat in the middle of the room, a giant elegant wardrobe to the side, and a desk up by a window. There was a door off to the side.

“That leads to the en suite bathroom. Anything else?”

“Do you have a list of directions out?”

He laughed. It was weird, this man who hardly showed any emotion laughing so suddenly. It was almost off putting. But it was the first laugh you had heard in a long time, and something made it feel special.

“I’ll get you in the morning. I’m sure there will be things to talk about.”

Not foreboding at all.

“Goodnight, Doctor Wesker.”

“Goodnight my dear.”

[noblesandsstories]

My Little Odyssey: Friendship is Epic (the Musical)