#;bite the hand that feeds -wesker

[gotaletter]

@manufactoredxbyxdesign liked for a starter!

James' shoulders tense as he feels a sudden presence behind him. Quickly, he turns around and is greeted with a familiar face. He's not entirely sure if he should feel relief or hang onto the pang of fear that grips his stomach.

"W-Wesker?" To say it's unexpected is an understatement. Green eyes blink in surprise as he tries to figure out what exactly he wants to say.

"I... What are you doing here?"

[gotaletter-archive]

If you can be the corpse, I can be the killer

If I can be the devil, you can be the sinner

If you could be the drugs, I could be the dealer

Everything you say is like music to my ears

[gotaletter-archive]

You want to die now.

Shock ripples through James as Wesker sees right through him. It hits something extremely deep, and what anger was left inside of him dissipates and is replaced with an overwhelming sadness. He's wanted to die for a very long time. James even tried to take his own life before he ended up here, and every time he closes his eyes he wishes he were still submerged under the waters of Toluca Lake drifting into the deep with the body of his wife in the trunk of his car.

Tears prick the corners of his eyes, and he makes a motion to pull away from the Mastermind.

"Let go of me." He mutters, trying to hide another sudden shift in his emotions, "Stop toying with me and let go." The hands wrapped tight around Wesker's wrist give a solid tug, but ultimately James fails due to the imbalance of strength between them. Despite him suggesting otherwise, James is certainly at Wesker's mercy.

Ohhh, but he could do it. The thought crosses his mind the very moment that his hand contacts with James. The restrictions of rules do not apply outside of the trials. Who could blame him? It is expected of his lot. They are violent by nature. Prone to lashing out at unwanted guests.

Still, he feels the vibration of anger surge through him and knows that a quick snap of the other man's neck would not offer him the satisfaction he truly craves.

"I had no reason to hesitate before. When I am in a trial you are nothing more than another animal to be hunted." He retorts with sharpness at the other mans questioning. Seemingly annoyed more by the failure on his end to note such a distinction.

He stifles the smirk that gathers in the corners of his mouth. A coldness that can only be deciphered as thick ambivalence chills his expression. "Besides, you want to die now. And I am not in the business of distributing mercy."

[nshtn]

thank you very much! @destinationtrekk

wesker handles the hard cases. wesker handles the cases least likely to make it. he handles the very young cases in very bad conditions, and the old cases that nobody has time for, and the people who come in with makeup-applied bruises seeking attention.

do you know how hard it is to do your job with everything boiling and foaming under the pot lid? did you know it all builds like a natural geyser, and then it builds pressure and blows that lid off, all hydrogen peroxide and potassium iodide of it?

he has to keep the person who activates these feelings in him so incomprehensibly close to feel secure about his attachment that he'd do better to just consume them whole. now, he comes home from work sullen, pouting until he sticks his head into your chest, and moves his arms around your back, and with an ease very becoming of a man with Progenitor, he lifts you into his arms, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he silently buries himself in you and inhales greedily. when he finally lets his breath escape him it's almost a whimper, and you can tell he needs this like he needs air. he presses his nose next into the space between your cheek and eye, pushing his lips into the gap and leaving a trail to your forehead so soft with his pale, thin lips you could cry. "you are a necessary evil," he whispers, and you flush at his attentions as his hands seek refuge in your tousled hair.

in this moment, you are just faintly aware that you are the red string attaching him to empathy and sympathy and love and lust and interest, such a damnable, incalculable thing, you. so organic. so fallible... so beautifully fallible. but that's what he loves about you: you're not made to last, packed with preservatives in a laboratory for later dissection - the only thing he can do to pick apart your mind and label his findings is psychologically vivisect you to understand himself.

[weskie]

Perfectionist (Albert Wesker x afab!Reader)

18+ | this man deserves to hump the bed, oral sex (reader receiving), afab anatomy gn!reader, amab version here | Fic Directory

Particular.  Methodical. Precise.

Starved.

All words fit to describe the way Wesker handles you.  Even now, even with his face buried between your legs, he works with such intense mindfulness.  Every swipe of his tongue, each bruising nibble to your thighs or heady suckle to your swollen bud is done with the sole intention of bringing you the most pleasure possible.  

Wesker is a perfectionist, and you are the canvas upon which he will paint.  He will carve the beauty of your bliss into this world one swipe at a time, for hours on end if he must. Even in the midst of such a primal deed, he is nothing but grace– until he isn��t.  Until you catch, by sheer luck, the sight of his hips grinding down against the bed.  Just once. 

Just one little slip of his self control.

But how fucking euphoric to know you push him to such extremes.  That the mere taste of your nectar can unravel his unyielding poise is enough to undo you.  With your hands in his hair, gripping, tugging, voice squeaking and pleading, you feel the lightning strike of your release burst through you.  It tingles into your limbs, down your spine.  You arch and squirm, but he holds you in place effortlessly.

He always does.

And he doesn’t stop…  

He laps at you through all of it, fingers beckoning slick from your quivering cunt to feed his insatiable appetite.  His little sounds aren’t lost on you.  The heavy, panted breaths; the little moan here or there; that one particularly drawn out hum of delight when your thighs clamped tight around his head.  

You peer from under heavy eyelids when you feel his lips at your thighs once more, peppering soft kisses as you come down from your release.  To your surprise, his gaze is anything but soft– so unlike his actions.  You find him staring with determined, voracious eyes– red as ever, boring deep into you.  The juxtaposition ignites the strangest blendings of anticipation and adoration.  He’s promising you silently and loudly all at once: you belong to him. 

You are his down to the molecular level and beyond– to the little building blocks of each and every atom in your body. He has made his claim.

The fingers within you continue their motions and his thumb falls to your tender bud.  Wesker is silent as he works you back to madness, basking in the trembling of your legs, nuzzling against the inside of your thigh to feel and watch each and every reaction.  

You can see him faltering again.  So subtle, but you catch the way his hips move. Poor thing. His pants must feel so tight by now… 

You wish he wasn’t so damn dignified all the time.  If he’d only accept that he was allowed the simple pleasures, that he could let go of some of that pride and hump the bed like any normal man.  God, you’d fucking love to see it.  Even just that little gyration was enough to make you clench around his digits.

You can see in his eyes that he’s doing everything in his power to resist it.  

You use your grip in his hair to push him back to your aching core.  His lips curl in a smirk at your clit and you wish more than anything that you could kiss that damned look off his face.  

“Mm, god!” You mewl, knowing full well what such an exclamation means to him. Not a plea to a higher power, no… 

That title is his. 

“So, so good…” you gasp, pushing up to meet his soft tongue. Through the haze, you see it happen again. The smallest arch of his back, the lightest rocking of his hips. 

Is that what he needs? 

“That's– that's it!” 

Again. 

“Al… oh god!” 

Let him know how good he’s doing.

You resist biting back a moan, just to further test the waters. You let those little whimpers sing freely, let his name fall from your lips and your hands tug and pull at his hair. You even dig one of your heels into his back, and then you hear it. 

Nearly silent, Wesker's gasping, open-mouthed whine reverberates against your sopping folds. The sound dances to your ears, more beautiful than any melody to ever grace the world. 

Your fingers curl tighter in his locks, pressing him closer. With your back arched and feet braced, you grind up against his face. Both of his arms lock around your thighs as if, by some measure, to remind you that it’s only by his good graces that you’re allowed to use him so wantonly. 

Another weak noise quivers against your aching cunt, and you find it in yourself to fight off the tendrils of release seeping through every fiber of your being just to watch him.

“I love it!” You gasp, perhaps just a little too breathily.  “L-Love you!”

Which, of course, earns you that reaction you so desperately want.  This time your treat is two sharp rocks of his hips and the unmistakable creak of the bedframe protesting against his strength.

You’re playing such a dangerous game with him.  What if you get what you want, hm?  What if you make the man-made god come in his pants?  What then?

Surely there will be consequences for pushing him into such a position.  Perhaps he’ll make you lick him clean.  No, no… that’s hardly a punishment.  What if he threw you over his knee?

Also not quite the worst case scenario.

So you sing for him.  With every little breath, you vocalize how good it feels, how good he feels, until suddenly those subtle grinds against the bed are anything but and he’s practically growling against your heat.  

His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed, tongue fucking in and out of you while his nose presses to your clit, and he humps against the bed as though the panopticon of his pride had never been there at all to observe such a desperate act unbecoming of a god.

The sight sends you hurtling over the edge, back rising from the bed as you shiver and shake and gush more slick for his greedy tongue.  His name falls from your lips over and over like a prayer, and by the time your back hits the bed once more you hear and feel him finding his own release as he thrusts away at nothing.

The thought alone of what just happened is enough to make you see stars…

You pet through his hair affectionately, cooing praise until those piercing eyes crack open and stare lazily through the haze.  His mouth stays pressed at the base of your mound, slick glistening at the tip of his nose and the curve of his cheek– too invested in painting his masterpiece to realize he’d become part of it.

Eventually though, you manage to get him to crawl back up.  You thumb away at the mess, utterly hypnotized when he grabs your wrist and sucks your digit clean. You can see it in his eyes… You feel it in the way he kisses you.

Ever the perfectionist, Albert Wesker is far from finished with you.

[nekrosdolly]

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.

[pricescigar]

Vampire!Wesker X Spanish Native F!Reader (Shy)

Requested by: @weird-angel-blog

TW: Mentions of blood, gore, and NSFW implied

GIF BELONGS TO: monsieurphantom

In fall of 2004 Albert Wesker resided in the Spencer Mansion, or whenver he may roamed. The man was everywhere... lurking in the shadows waiting for his next move.

The Spencer Mansion was left in disseray after the Spencer Mansion Incident in 1998, his STARS Team falling apart. The feeling of betrayal, but to Wesker that was life.

He knew he had to do everything himself, with the incompetence of Krauser and Ada, he had no choice but to do it himself.

"Incompetent fools..."

After his journey in Spain trying to get the Vampire Serum back into rightful hands, killing anyone who had dared to try and stop him.

Wesker wasn't going to let anyone stand in his way no matter what.

He had also found a different Prize... And that was It was Y/N, his prized posession.

Wesker laid his eyes on her, to himself he would say: She's so beautiful... Seeing how shy and innocent she was, it bought a grin to his face.

"Y/N..." He'd coo her name, almost purring out of his lips as he chuckled.

During his life time he knew a good couple of Spanish words and know to to speak some sentences.

Wesker always caught Y/N off guard, he definitely caught her interest. But it always made her wonder... Why was he so fixated on her?

After the first visit, Wesker always came back to visit Y/N every night. Gifting her with flowers, chocolate, jewellery, anything he could find thst reminded him of her.

At first Y/N was surprised by the first couple of visits, but as the weeks passed she loved seeing him... Even leaving the window open for him.

Every night was different, every story, every interaction... Even new feelings too. Sinful one's too.

"Call me Daddy..."

Y/N had to hide the many Vampire bite marks and hickeys that was plastered all over her body. No one has to know ... Did they?

Wesker was always full of durprises which always made her more excited, beginning for more.

Whenever her and Wesker have fun he'd always made sure he'd leave her trembling, begging for him.

"Good evening Chica..." Wesker spoke in a husk voice

Y/N shuddered hearing his beautiful voice...

Even if Wesker knew Y/N for a couple of weeks but he was completely head over heels for her.

And you know what they always said about a Vampire's gaze... It was dangerous. But Y/N gave into it

"Come to me..." Wesker ehideored his eyes glowing a deep crimson redd under his glasses

Y/N obliged, going towards him, with Wesker's hand extending towards her. Taking her into his arms, leaning his head into her neck sniffing it... The blood coursing through her veins...

His fangs getting the larger by the minute, the urge to feed on her... The very vessel. Yet an other idea had struck his mind.

Why didn't he think of it before?

Though being a Vampire was a curse... You was blessed with eternal life, and eternal beauty. And Wesker wanted nothing more but for Y/N to be by his side.

"I shall make you mine, forever and all for eternity."

Y/N couldn't help it but feel so drawn to him, caressing his face extending her neck letting Wesker feed on her.

When the deed was done he lifted up Y/N into his arms, carrying her bridal style and they made the journey back to Wesker's mansion.

And in a matter of hours ... Y/N would have a new life with Wesker.

"Mi amor, I can't wait for you to wake up..." Wesker purred, kissing her neck where the bite was.

[itsohh]

Despite Part 5

A/N: Female reader, I'm currently house sitting for my sister at the moment and god damn her bed sucks.

Summary: With your night all planned out your ready to go back to Wesker's house for him to show off his cooking skills, yet those plans are put on hold when you bump into Irons.

Warnings: Workplace harassment / sexual harassment

Word count: 2711

AO3 Masterlist Part 4 Part 6

“How could anyone love a monster like you?”

-

The man before you held a grimace on his face, one filled with pain and disorientation. “Focus on me, Redfield.” You put your face in front of him and managed to catch his attention. 

“Doc. I feel like shit.” He groaned and leaned towards you.

“I know but you’re going to be okay.”

“Just a flesh wound?” He asked with a slight groan. 

“Not even that, just a dislocated shoulder. I'm going to have to put it back in place and you're gonna be back in the fight.” 

You looked into his eyes and he nodded. With his free hand, he braced himself on the wall next to him. One of your hands braced him and the other firmly held onto his arm. “Ready?”

“Yeah-” The second he confirmed you jammed his shoulder back into place and he let out a loud hiss. “Fuck I thought you'd give me a countdown- Doc watch out!” Chris moved to grab his gun. At the same time, you grabbed your pistol and immediately whipped around ready to fire but someone beat you to it. 

A loud bang went off and the assailant who went to rush you crumbled to the floor. Their machete clattered to the ground and your eyes looked up to see Albert there, gun in hand. 

“Thanks.” You nodded to the man and turned your attention back to Chris. 

“Sit rep?” Wesker asked and you spoke without looking towards him. 

“I fixed his dislocated shoulder but he should take it easy. There's going to be muscle bruising and gunfire will only make it worse. I believe you got the last of them but I thought it was clear before.” 

“He just arrived, I was on his tail. He should have been the last one.” 

He changed from speaking to you to speaking to the entire team through your coms. “Report?” 

“All clear.” Jill's voice came through clear and loud. 

“Clear,” Barry said and Wesker nodded. 

“Did we find our hostage?” You asked and helped Chris to his feet. Despite not looking at him, Albert knew you were talking to him. 

“All six pieces.” 

You winced and Chris nodded to you, a silent communication that let you know he was okay.

“Shit. Why the dismemberment?” 

“It looked like they were doing a ritual before we interrupted it.” Your head turned to look at Albert as he spoke. 

“They behaved like animals. The one that took Chris down was fucking screaming and tried to bite him.”

“Said my flesh would feed their goddess,” Chris grumbled and rubbed his shoulder.

“Well, it's a good thing you stopped that. Good work.” 

“Just following your lead, Captain.” You smiled and you took the opportunity to look over the man. He wasn't one to really hide injuries or refuse treatment but he didn't bring them to your attention either. 

“I'm uninjured if that's what you're looking for, Doctor.”

“Sharp as ever. You caught me.” The pair of you stood there longer than necessary, Chris even left without you noticing. Minutes ticked by before Wesker spoke again. 

“Dinner tonight?” The question shocked you a little, he was never one to mention anything like it while the pair of you were at work. 

“Mmm, nothing fancy.” You could already feel fatigue creep up on you. “I can see the pile of paperwork to fill out already and I don't have the time to go home then get ready et cetera et cetera.” You waved your hand. 

“I'll cook for you.” 

Your brows shot up at his offer. “I didn't know you cooked.”

“Cooking isn't very difficult, it's following written instructions.” His voice was deadpan and you rolled your eyes with a smile. 

“Is there anything you can't do? I'm sure the list is growing shorter every day.” 

A voice called for your Captain and the pair of you turned your heads towards it. “I'll talk to you after work.” You smiled and he nodded. 

Once again the mission had left you in the same position you had been in so many times before. You had to stay somewhat late and finish up your reports before you could leave. For some reason, the world cursed you with missions on the exact days where you didn't need to come in the following day. So you couldn't just leave the reports to the next day

“Hey Doc the group of us are planning to get drinks after this? You down?” Chris asked and you continued to fill out the forms without looking up from your computer. 

“I already have plans.”

“Ah come on Doc.” There was a slight whine to his voice. 

“Chris I've told you before I don't drink and I don't see watching you lot get wasted as a fun pastime.” 

“Think of it as a bonding exercise.”

“I've heard you try that one on Wesker before. It didn't work on him and it won't work on me.” You continued to type. 

“But what if I need you huh? I could accidentally dislocate my arm again. You have to look after your favourite patient.”

“Well if that happens then it's off to Racoon General for you.”

“So heartless.” 

“You're just as bad as Joseph.” You hit submit on the form and turned to face Chris who leaned on the wall next to your desk. “I really am busy tonight.”

“Next week then. Just one night.” 

A sigh left your lips and a movement behind Christ caught your attention, it was Albert. The man was slow in his movements and despite the distance, you were sure he was listening to every word you said. 

“Fine, I'll hang out with you after work for a bit if it will get you off my back.” 

“Alright! You’re gonna have so much fun I promise-”

“Chris, have you finished your report from today?” Chris was interrupted by Albert who towered slightly over Chris from behind. Chris whipped around still with his accomplished smile on his face. 

“Not yet, I'll have it to you tomorrow morning.”

“Well, it seems you're not too busy right now. Have it to me by the end of the night.”

“Cap…” Chris’s head tilted to the side and his body sagged slightly.

Albert's attention turned to you. “Doctor, how's your reports?”

“I just submitted the last one, I was actually just about to leave.”

“Good work.” He nodded and broke eye contact with you. Albert didn't say anything as he left the office area but you knew he was ready to leave. 

“Well, ‘scuse me Chris I'm going to head out now.” He stepped back away from your chair to give you space to get up. 

“I get injured and Wesker's still on my ass.” There was a smile in his voice and you could tell he wasn't really upset. 

“You know what the Captains like.” You put a hand of sympathy on his healthy shoulder before you grabbed your jacket from the back of your chair. Chris watched as you left the office area. 

“See you later Chris. Good luck with the reports!” You called over your shoulder with a wave. 

If there was one thing that annoyed you, it was how far of a walk it was to the parking area. The most secure parking was the basement parking but you had to go through the entire building to get to it. It was better than risking your bike out on the outside parking though. You would think people wouldn't touch cars at a police station but people were dumb. 

Yet before you could reach the elevator, you ran into someone. Quite literally. The pair of you went around the corner and you stumbled into the Chief of police. He immediately caught you and stabilized you, his hands on your hips. “Doctor, best to be more careful and watch where you're going.” He warned but his hands still didn't move.

Mentally you cringed and went to take a step back. “Sorry, I just had a lot on my mind from today's mission.” Yet his grip didn't let up. 

“Are you alright? You look a little dazed, perhaps you hit your head when we collided.”

“No. I'm okay, thanks. You can let go now.” You bit. 

“You know, it makes you think when a pretty thing like you just happens to run into me at a time when there's no one else around. It makes you think.”

Mentally you swore and let out a breath. “An honest mistake, I'm just heading home now. Besides, there are still people about. Chris is working late for example.” You tried to warn him subtly. It wasn't the first time you had to deal with men like him, it was never easy working in a male-dominated career path. 

His hands dug in a little harder and you had to stop yourself from punching the man, you knew you needed to get out of this without violence else it would be your job on the line. Something you preferred to keep. After all, working under Albert meant you never had to deal with Irons’s harassment. 

“Perhaps we should check that head out of yours in my office. Maybe you can't even feel it, you did hit it pretty hard, so hard you can't even remember.”

Your teeth grind together and you used the last excuse you could think of at the top of your head. “I unfortunately don't have time. I told Captain Wesker there was something I wanted to discuss before he left and he's waiting for me in the car park right now. I know he hates waiting.” 

The look on Irons's face immediately fell and he relinquished one hand from you but then he slipped around to your side and kept the other one wrapped around you. “How about I walk you to him then? We wouldn't want you to fall on the way.”

“I can handle myself.” 

“I insist.” The pair of you slowly started to walk and you balled your hand into a fist. It was so tight that your nails dug into your flesh and you swore it might have broken the skin. Each step was agonising, his touch seared into your skin 

The pair of you walked into the elevator and that was painfully long. Mentally you chanted to yourself and silently prayed that Albert hadn't left yet. No one was at the security station and you couldn't help the way your body started to panic. 

If you beat the shit out of Irons would Albert believe you? Would you be fired without a question? Or would you simply disappear like what happened to his assistant? Silently you swore over the matter. Her disappearance had been strange, a little odd but ultimately brushed off. It wasn't your job to investigate such matters, you weren’t a detective but at that moment you wished you were. Would it even make a difference? Who would take your word over his? It would have left you in the same situation. Him vs you.

 The pair of you reached the carpark and your eyes searched for Wesker's BMW but you couldn't quite find it. The place was completely empty, only a few cars left. A few patrol cars, an armoured vehicle, your own bike and what you knew as Irons’s car. 

“Well, it seems he's not here. You will have to have your conversation in the morning.” There was a delight to his voice and his hand started to slip from your waist. “I should drive you home. You're certainly not in a state to drive yourself. You could crash that bike of yours.”

“No. I'm fine. I can take care of myself.”

“I very much disagree. Come now.” He started to pull you towards his car. 

“Chief stop, I'm fine.”

“There's no need to be bashful. I don't mind the trouble.”

“Let me go!” Your voice peaked and echoed in the carpark, a desperate cry that Irons seemed unaffected by. 

“Is there a problem here?” A voice asked from behind you and your heart immediately calmed. 

The Chief immediately let go of you and the pair of you turned to look at your Captain who towered above the man. The normally emotionless look on his face was slightly tainted with displeasure but you couldn't see where he was looking with his glasses on. 

“Ah, Wesker. I was just taking care of the Doctor here. She hit her head and I figured I should take her home. She's not in any fit state to drive.” Still, he was trying but you heard the slight waver in his voice.  

“Is that so?”

“I didn't hit my head, we just bumped into each other. I'm fine. Like I said.” Your teeth gritted. 

“The poor girl can barely remember the incident. I'm just looking out for her as Police Chief.”

“If she's in no state to drive I will take her home.”

“Wesker there's-”

“She's one of mine so I'll take care of her. Goodnight Irons.” There was no room for debate in Albert's voice and he started to walk towards the corner of the car park. Without hesitation, you followed him until the pair of you arrived at his car which was tucked behind an armoured vehicle. 

Wesker opened the passenger front door for you, but he didn't look at you; his gaze was far off into the carpark. You didn't need to look to know who he was looking at. The car was slightly cold, but its sanctuary was one you welcomed. 

He closed your passenger door and a moment later he got into the driver's side. “Are you alright?” Wesker asked. 

“I'm fine, he was lying. I didn't hit my head, we just rounded the corner at the same time we barely even collided.”

“No, I mean after dealing with him.”

“I… off the record?”

“Always is when it's just us.”

“I despise that man. He disgusts me, I hate that he touched me and I don't even want to know what he would do if he got his way.” You glanced out the window as he put the car into reverse and started to leave the car park. 

“You could have easily fought him.”

“And then what? He'd get his revenge somehow. Either I'd disappear or something. My career would be most certainly gone and I mean who would I go to about any incident? He runs the RPD. He could easily prevent any investigation. Who would take his word over mine?” 

The car came to a halt and briefly, Albert left it to put his parking card into the reader for the gate so the pair of you leave. You watched him the entire time until he finally got back in. 

He didn't say anything as he drove the pair of you up the ramp and then onto the main road. 

“I would. I would always take your world. I wouldn't let him lay a finger on you” He finally spoke and you turned your head to look at the man, he seemed unphased but the extreme grip on the steering wheel told you otherwise. “If he ever talks to you, touches you again, tell me and he will regret it. I’ll always believe you over him. He doesn't have the power to fire you, you're mine.”

“Albert…” Your voice was soft and you gave him a small appreciative smile. 

“I'll talk to him tomorrow and make sure he doesn't try that again. Tell me if that changes.” 

For a second your immediate reaction was to refuse and say he didn't need to, that it was okay but you bit your tongue and nodded. 

“Thanks, Albert, thanks for having my back.”

“I would even if we weren't…together. I’d always look after you.” 

The way he spoke had your heart hammer and you couldn't help but focus on the fact he said you and not ‘my team’. It made that desire to be loved spark with joy. 

“Are we still going to yours?”

“Unless you prefer I drop you off at home.” He glanced over to you and you shook your head. 

“No, it's fine. I don't want him to ruin my night, I just want to forget about it.” 

Albert didn't reply.

[midori-laboratories]

hiya! Now I’m not a big fan of wesker but @whateverthefuckyouwantiguess showed me this vampire wesker art that hasn’t exactly left my mind.

could I possibly request a smutty lil blurb with vampire wesker and an SO that found him during feeding?

pls and thank you 💕

...I think that can be arranged, although this turned into a full one-shot on me. I haven't done an xReader fic before, so this was fun! @lottathoughts, @whateverthefuckyouwantiguess

Pic for reference, by @klutzygutsi 

CW: Vampire Wesker (Dominant), Female reader, (Submissive), Sexual content, blood drinking, biting, alcohol. Discussions of disclosure, kink, and consent. PWP, minors DNI please.

The Tasting

When you pushed the propped-open door to the alley at the back of the bar, you’d begun to wonder whether coming out tonight was a mistake.

He’d taken you to a high-end bar, run by an associate of his. Wesker had ordered you a glass of the smoothest scotch you’d ever tasted, even though it wasn’t typically to your taste. He leaned against the bar, watching your throat work, watching you flush under the heat of the drink, and the weight of his eyes.

The two of you stayed like that at the bar for a few moments, before someone called Jack - he claimed to have worked with him, once - came up behind Wesker clapping him on the shoulder with a quick leer down at you. After a moment, you excused yourself, downing your drink and heading to the bathroom. Wesker had had a look in his eye when he mentioned coming here earlier, more so when he had asked you to wear a specific dress. You intended to be ready for anything.

Given how he’d taken off his sunglasses two weekends before, and explained his…condition…’anything’ had the potential to go to a place you weren’t sure you could handle.

You were curious enough to try.

When you came out of the bathroom, Wesker was nowhere to be seen, but the bartender jerked her chin toward the back. “He ducked out for a smoke.” She glanced over at Jack. “Your beau should be in the back alley, through the back room. There’s a door propped open by the stairs - if you want to avoid this one.”

You grimaced. There had been nothing subtle in that man’s expression. You quietly thanked the bartender and turned on your heel towards the dark hallway leading to the back room.

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the low light. A sliver of light from the back alley shone through a crack in the door, just below a glowing EXIT sign.

You moved as quietly towards the door as you could when you hear a soft moan, just outside.

You hesitated. Would he…here?

Only one way to find out.

You pushed your hand flat against the door, easing it open to peer down the alley.

Wesker was ten feet away from the door.

As was the person who he’d put against the wall, fangs buried in their throat. Wesker had pinned them to the brick wall with his body, one knee planted between theirs.

You knew from personal experience that they wouldn’t be going anywhere.

A gloved hand had tipped their head back, lazily stroking their jaw with the thumb while holding them immobile. Not that they seemed inclined to flee. If anything, they seemed to melt deeper into the embrace with every lazy stroke.

You must have made a noise, or he must have heard your footsteps. Either way, he opened one crimson eye, and found you standing at the door. That gaze lingered on you. It held you there, as pinned as the person losing cohesion under his hand.

If the scotch had made you flush earlier, the hungry little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth threatened to burn you alive.

Silently, you stepped back into the building and fled back into the crowded bar.

----------

The bartender - a gorgeous woman whose name tag identified her as Ada - set another glass in front of you when you reached the bar. You’d returned there, fidgeting with the chain of the necklace he’d gifted you last month. You hadn’t been sure of what else to do, so you’d come back here to regroup. “Let’s get you another. Your date has a tab, and I have no problem charging a $200 bottle to it when he pulls this sort of shit. Fortify your nerves.” She paused. “They’re fine, by the way. Anyone stupid enough to leave bodies that can be traced to here usually isn’t long for this world.”

You eyed the glass, then sighed and took a long draught. Setting the glass down, you worried your lip between your teeth. “That’s good,” you said slowly. “I wasn’t expecting to see that.”

“No one really does. I wouldn’t blame you if you’d just written him off as a very dramatic goth.” Her lips curled in a playful smirk, with just a hint of cruelty.

You gave a sharp laugh at the comment, taken off-guard. “No, but I can see people thinking that. Oh, wow.” You took another sip, more relaxed now. “Ah, thank you. I think I needed that.”

A text came through on your phone. Are you alright?

You replied quickly. Yes. The bartender is talking shit about you. They’re very charming.

You sent the message, then hesitated and typed out another text. Are they? Alright?

Ada leaned over the bar. “That him?”

“Yes,” you said, distracted. Another message from him: They’ll be fine. I just put them into a taxi.

Come upstairs.

----------

Ada pointed you to the back room again, where the alley door and the stairs to the second floor were laid out side by side. The red glow of the EXIT sign held your eye for a long moment.

You’d known what he was - the two of you had had a long discussion about it not two weeks ago, and another about consent, and what your limits were. It had all been very civil after the initial shock, sober and mature. It wouldn’t do to let your endorphins make decisions for you that you’d regret later in (or worse, irrevocably without) the cold light of day.

And now, before you…you had a choice to make.

“To hell with it,” you muttered under your breath, and began to make your way up the stairs.

----------

An office space was located above the bar. The first door to your right at the top of the stairs was ajar, a soft light coming from inside. “In here,” Wesker’s voice came from inside.

Last chance to turn back, you thought to yourself. But no, that wasn’t quite true. There had been a very clear crossroads at the bottom of the stairs, and you’d chosen to keep moving forward.

You pushed through the door. A large leather couch took up one wall of the office, and a huge, old oak desk took up half the room on the other side, with an elegant-looking wingback chair behind it. Wesker was leaning against the front of the desk, illuminated by dim sconce lighting on the walls. “The owner lets me use the space up here,” he said. “Ada’s quite good at that sort of damage control.”

Wesker had taken off his sunglasses. The low light made the bioluminescent glow of his eyes stand out stark in the shadows. He held a hand out to you, pushing off from the desk to step forward. “Come here.”

You took a slow step forward. Goosebumps were rising on your bare arms. “I’m not sure what I expected, back when you told me,” you confessed.

He tipped your chin up with one of those long, leather-clad hands once you’d drifted far enough into his orbit. “People lie about what they can handle,” he said quietly. “Even to themselves. Especially to themselves. It’s better to see sooner, before the mind starts to rationalize away their concerns.”

“I know what sunk cost is,” you replied, just a little tartly. He had a point. It didn’t mean you liked the feeling of being corraled. “So that’s why I didn’t get a warning, I suppose.”

“I’m sure Ada managed to find a way to apply a surcharge for doing it here.” You couldn’t help but smile a little at that, as his other hand moved to the curve of your waist. “You would have seen it sooner or later. We’ve been seeing eachother long enough that it was only a matter of time.”

He was watching you closely, gauging your reactions. You let your eyes wander down from that intense gaze. There was a few small drops of blood still on the corner of his mouth. You reached up without thinking - then hesitated, looking back to meet Wesker’s eyes. He tilted his head, almost smiling at you (he’d been so hard to read when you’d met, but you were getting better at interpreting the fine shifts in his body language) while he took your wrist in one hand. You felt your breath catch as he pressed cool lips to your palm, slowly trailing down to the pulse point at your wrist.

That subtle pressure at your waist grew firm as he used the loose embrace to switch your positions like a dancer, guiding you to take a step back. You felt the hard edge of the desk hit the back of your thighs. That little thrill of anticipation you felt with you stepped into this room began to unfurl into something languid, and hungry.

A soft little sound escaped you as Wesker crowded in on you, guiding you to push yourself onto the desktop. He pressed a leg forward between your knees.

He had done the same to that person out in the alley.

Those hands were trailing up your sides. Cool fingertips glided down your thighs to squeeze your knee, a knuckle dragged up your arm towards your neck. You could feel yourself relaxing into that cool, silky touch, leaning into it, already beginning to fall into that trance-like state he’d discovered when the two of you first began to fall in together only a few months ago.

One of those hands gently hooked your necklace, pulling you forward as he brought his mouth down to yours. The angle forced you to arc your body to meet him, so that he was practically on top of you despite the light, teasing contact.

The kiss was soft at first, brushing your lips lightly. You let your lips part, and he hummed approval. His mouth grew firmer, more insistent against yours. Wesker’s hands moved to pull your hips flush against his. You ground your own hips against his in response with a needy whine. He chuckled at the sound, hands tightening to keep you still while he devoured you.

You barely noticed when Wesker took the tie of your wrap dress in hand, pulling it loose in one deft motion. You opened your eyes at the sensation of cool air hitting your skin. He had asked you to wear this dress out tonight. “You planned this,” you said, in a voice trying to be sharp, but could only manage to sound mildly indignant.

Wesker hummed assent against your jaw. He began to move down your exposed body, sucking gently and nipping at your skin. His fangs scraped, but never broke the skin in a way that would have ignited you, had you not already been halfway there. His fingers brushed over the garters you’d chosen to wear. You’d chosen to skip the underwear. “I’d almost say you were expecting this tonight. A tasting, if you will.”

Your hands went back to brace yourself on the desk. “Some of it- ah!” That silver tongue of his had found another use, finding your core. He licked the length of your sex before that mouth fastened on your clit. One of those long fingers pushed inside you, joined by another. He paused, looked up at you, gauging, before straightening his back with a knowing smirk. You bit your lip- you’d put in your diaphragm during your trip to the bathroom earlier, and Wesker had just clearly just found that for himself. He moved back to press himself against you, All you could do in this state was cling to him, panting lightly.

Wesker touched your neck, that feather-light touch again with the back of his knuckles. “Might I? Or are you still…frightened?”

He knew you too well, to drop a gauntlet like that. Your heart sped up. “Go easy, but…alright.” Wesker smiled at your resolve, placing a gentle kiss on your brow. He moved back to your mouth, alternating between gentle and demanding until you felt dizzy. All the while, those fingers moved slowly inside you, pumping, occasionally curling and taking you apart, inch by delicious inch.

You’d become a mewling mess under that hand, making a soft sound of protest when he pulled his fingers out of you. Slowly, under your fuck-struck gaze, he ran his tongue over them, lapping up your slick fluids like the smuggest cat on the planet.

He was also taking his sweet fucking time with it.

You dearly wanted to call him an asshole in that moment. What you actually said was, “you’re overdressed,” in a slightly accusatory tone while shrugging your way out of the dress. Wesker smirked down at you. He reached down to unbuckle his belt. Pulling it loose, he considered it for a moment. “Maybe next time,” he promised, setting it on the desk beside you. The shirt came next, and your hands greedily moved over his exposed chest and shoulders as soon as it was gone. Wesker grasped you gently by the back of your head and kissed you again while his other hand traveled downward to open his slacks.

Distracted as you were, your eyes flew open as his cock breached you. The hand behind your head tightened in your hair, and you keened from the combined sensations while he sank into you.

Wesker broke the kiss to look down on you. Those burning eyes of his seemed to take on a near-demonic glow. “My, my,” he teased. “It seems you are ready.” He looped one arm under your knee and anchored his hand on your hip, shifting the angle to drag across that one nerve-packed little spot inside you. You gasped and shuddered at the slow onslaught, and he chuckled in your ear. “Good girl.” He murmured. You shivered at the rumble of his voice, at his breath in your ear. You wouldn’t last long at this rate. Already, you could feel that pressure inside yourself building, and fast.

His hand pulled at your hair again to remind you of its presence, and you moaned. “So responsive. If this is how you react now, I can just imagine how you’d come apart with a collar. Would you like to try one later, darling?” All the while, he’d started rolling his hips with slow acceleration, building friction and driving you slowly out of your mind.

In response, you contracted around him, almost wailing now. Your nails dug into his shoulders the picture he was painting in your mind's eye. You felt him smirk against your ear, even as he hissed at your reaction. It wasn’t fair that Wesker could sound this calm, while you were coming apart at the seams. He only barely seemed to be winded. “Next time, then,” he said. “II see we’re past the point of speaking.”

His thrusts came faster now, deep, with purpose. “I am glad we were able to have our little discussion about pain, earlier. Come.” That last word was spoken in command. Already approaching the edge, you felt the first cresting wave of your orgasm hit you, just as sharp fangs bit into your throat.

You came to little by little, lying on your side in that dark room. Gentle pressure from a hand moved up and down your side, and a glass of water had been set on a small side table not far away.

“There you are,” Wesker’s voice came from somewhere above you. You shifted to your back, looking up from where your head was pillowed on his lap. He’d carried you over to the leather couch after you had passed out, you realized.

“How long was I out?” You asked, voice rasping. He eased you up into a sitting position, still curled into his side, and handed you the glass of water. He had draped your dress over your naked body to keep you from getting cold. To your question, he said, “a few minutes. No more than that. This first time is sometimes a bit of a shock to the system- endorphins and blood pressure dropping can trigger fainting- but the recovery is always quick.”

You took a sip. “So…that’s normal?” It had felt amazing, but it was probably something to spark concern.

Wesker put a hand on your cheek, guiding you to look at him. His shirt was still off, and a fine patter of blood droplets was arrayed upon his chest, and just under his mouth. His eyes had gone back to the dull glow that he had when feeling relaxed and sated…which he had been, from you. “Normal isn’t the word I’d use, but not unusual. Take a few moments to rest, darling. You were wonderful…and later, we can discuss trying a few things, if I haven’t scared you off.”

You met his gaze and considered. You’d never felt in danger with him, in…this. Right now, you felt safe, and cared for.

You could stand to explore a little further.

“You haven’t scared me off,” you said slowly, “But next time I absolutely want to know what’s going to happen.”

Wesker’s mouth stretched into a slow smoldering smile. “I think that could be arranged.”

[gotaletter]

Continued from here:

Wait a minute, did he say stress ball? And did he also say that James was his favorite? Well that certainly puts some color on his pale cheeks.

"Wh- huh? No I've kind of been here the whole time, actually. Guess I just got better at hiding."

Or avoiding is more like it. Wesker isn't the only one who's being weird with their affections and desires.

@manufactoredxbyxdesign

[gotaletter-archive]

Smash or Pass: me

Send Smash or Pass + a name and my muse will say if they would smash or pass on that person.

"..."

"... Smash." He says, chin tucked into his chest. Part of him hopes Wesker won't actually hear it.

[gotaletter-archive]

James was not here for a fight. Not by a long shot. Ever since their previous confrontation he couldn't get the image and the feeling of the Mastermind so close to him out of his mind. It kept him awake at night, and in his quiet moments he tried desperately to remember how Wesker's scent slithered along his senses. Memories weren't enough anymore. He had to come back here. He had to linger in the S.T.A.R.S. office once again to silently witness the other man behind the curtain.

Just the sight of him is intoxicating. It makes his head swim, and he can feel his heartbeat in his ears. The plumes of smoke that jut from Wesker's lips are gently pulled in as James tries to keep himself steady; to keep himself under control. It's almost too much. He can feel that Hunger bubbling in his gut. He can feel the flush of color tempting to touch his pale cheeks. He can feel the desire to know the other man so intimately curling along his neck.

James can feel the mania settling in.

Once again Wesker draws near, and the survivor has to use all of his strength not to eagerly close the distance. Blond brows knit together at the idea of them touching, bodies fitting together in such a small office space. He remembers what he witnessed here. He remembers what he wished for. There have been many things that have been born from his wishes. Maybe this wasn't so different. Despite his best efforts however, he finds that his body has once again acted of its own accord.

Skin. Skin against skin. Wesker's skin against his own. Green eyes zero in on the contact, seeing how his thumb presses into flesh in order to feel the thrumming heartbeat beneath. Blood. Veins. Muscle. Sinew. Warmth. He could crawl inside if he wanted to. He could reach down and bite into him if he allowed himself. He could-

"... Huh?" Had Wesker said something to him? He probably had. It's kind of weird to be doing what he's doing, almost as if he were checking for a pulse. What is he supposed to say? "Oh. I uh... Those things aren't good for your heart, you know." Sure. That'll do. Maybe that'll cover his tracks for now. It would probably help if he also let go of Wesker, but it seems that logic hasn't reached his brain yet.

💓  to  listen  to  my  muse's  heartbeat. (From @gotaletter )

Was it luck that he'd caught him in a good mood this time? Maybe. But given how their previous encounters had quickly soured he imagines that even the sight of him has become a source of dread for James.

Leaning forward with his focus primarily on the ashes he'd spill across his desk, Wesker seems mostly unphased by the presence of another so close to his space. It's not until James gets closer - seemingly lingering nearby, that he snuffs out the remains of his cigarette and finally gets up.

"I am not in the mood to clean your blood off my office floor. so if you want a fight you will have to bother The Nemesis."

The soles of his boots tread loudly across the hardwood as he approaches. His hand extends to grasp the door that would separate them if closed, tempted to slam it just to hear the sound of James scampering away.

As he reaches he gives pause at the curious graze of fingertips that quickly find the gap where his glove ends, touching the bare skin with a pressure that sends his steady heartbeat thrumming through it. The Mastermind tenses, freezing as he stares out through the shades that hide his eyes.

"Checking something?"

[ulfhrafnx]

" that was a foolish decision. " ( from wesker )

𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄.

he taunts her with each calculated , languid step he takes , pushing boundaries without need for physical force. it makes her skin crawl , so she growls , a guttural and bestial sound resonating deep within her chest. she is no monster made like him , she is one born , and in that truth was her strength.

body language warns that cornering her in this way will only end in blood. still he advances , his ego his greatest weakness.

she's all claws and teeth , a rabid dog fighting the chains that bind , even in this misleading form , more than eager to bite the hand that feeds , no matter the repercussions. better dead than leashed -- or imprisoned.

the moment he's within reach she strikes, teeth sinking into the flesh of his forearm , ripping with a strength capable of rending the appendage clean off.

' that was a foolish decision , ' he says , as her mouth fills with blood , and she knows he's right. he's too close. there’s no where left for her to go — but she’ll die fighting for her freedom regardless.

[weskie]

Perfectionist (Albert Wesker x amab!Reader)

18+ | this man deserves to hump the bed, oral sex (reader receiving), amab anatomy gn!reader, afab version here | Fic Directory

Particular.  Methodical. Precise.

Starved.

All words fit to describe the way Wesker handles you.  Even now, even with his face buried between your legs, he works with such intense mindfulness.  Every swipe of his tongue, each bruising nibble to your thighs or heady suckle to the head of your swollen cock is done with the sole intention of bringing you the most pleasure possible.  

Wesker is a perfectionist, and you are the canvas upon which he will paint.  He will carve the beauty of your bliss into this world one swipe at a time, for hours on end if he must. Even in the midst of such a primal deed, he is nothing but grace– until he isn’t.  Until you catch, by sheer luck, the sight of his hips grinding down against the bed.  Just once. 

Just one little slip of his self control.

But how fucking euphoric to know you push him to such extremes.  That the mere taste of your nectar can unravel his unyielding poise is enough to undo you.  With your hands in his hair, gripping, tugging, voice squeaking and pleading, you feel the lightning strike of your release burst through you.  It tingles into your limbs, down your spine.  You arch and squirm, but he holds you in place effortlessly.

He always does.

And he doesn’t stop…  

He laps at you through all of it, fist pumping come from your aching shaft to feed his insatiable appetite.  His little sounds aren’t lost on you.  The heavy, panted breaths; the little moan here or there; that one particularly drawn out hum of delight when your thighs clamped tight around his head.  

You peer from under heavy eyelids when you feel his lips at your thighs once again, peppering soft kisses as you come down from your release– waiting, wanting more.  To your surprise, his gaze is anything but soft– so unlike his actions.  You find him staring with determined, voracious eyes– red as ever, boring deep into you.  The juxtaposition ignites the strangest blendings of anticipation and adoration.  He’s promising you silently and loudly all at once: you belong to him. 

You are his down to the molecular level and beyond– to the little building blocks of each and every atom in your body. He has made his claim.

It’s not long before you’re ready to go again.  He knows just how to get you there.

The fingers gripping you continue their motions and his tongue swirls the head of your cock so perfectly that you just can’t help it when your eyes roll back.  Wesker is silent as he works you to madness, basking in the trembling, nuzzling against the inside of your thigh to feel and watch each and every reaction as he strokes you.  

You can see him faltering again.  So subtle, but you catch the way his hips move. Poor thing. His pants must feel so tight by now… 

You wish he wasn’t so damn dignified all the time.  If he’d only accept that he was allowed the simple pleasures, that he could let go of some of that pride and hump the bed like any normal man.  God, you’d fucking love to see it.  Even just that little gyration was enough to make you twitch in his grasp.

You can see in his eyes that he’s doing everything in his power to resist it.  

You use your grip in his hair to push him to swallow you.  His lips curl in a smirk as they near the base and you wish more than anything that you could kiss that damned look off his face.  

“Mm, god!” You mewl, knowing full well what such an exclamation means to him. Not a plea to a higher power, no… 

That title is his. 

“So, so good…” you gasp, pushing up to seek the engulfing heat of his throat.  He’s so fucking good at this…

 Through the haze, you see it happen again. The smallest arch of his back, the lightest rocking of his hips. 

Is that what he needs? 

“That's– that's it!” 

Again. 

“Al… oh god!” 

Let him know how good he’s doing.

You resist biting back a moan, just to further test the waters. You let those little whimpers sing freely, let his name fall from your lips and your hands tug and pull at his hair. You even dig one of your heels into his back, and then you hear it. 

Nearly silent, Wesker's choking moan reverberates around your cock, making you shiver in delight. The sound dances to your ears, more beautiful than any melody to ever grace the world. He draws back up for a brief second, taking several calculated breaths before going right back down.

Your fingers curl tighter in his locks, pressing him closer. With your back arched and feet braced, you fuck into the warmth of his mouth. His hands grip and bite into your thighs as if, by some measure, to remind you that it’s only by his good graces that you’re allowed to use him so wantonly. That anybody else would be dead for even entertaining the mere idea of having him perform such an act.  

You’re special, and you best remember it.

Another weak noise quivers against your length, and you find it in yourself to fight off the tendrils of release seeping through every fiber of your being just to watch him take you.

“I love it!” You gasp, perhaps just a little too breathily.  “L-Love you!”

Which, of course, earns you that reaction you so desperately want.  This time your treat is two sharp rocks of his hips and the unmistakable creak of the bedframe protesting against his strength.

You’re playing such a dangerous game with him.  What if you get what you want, hm?  What if you make the man-made god come in his pants?  What then?

Surely there will be consequences for pushing him into such a position.  Perhaps he’ll make you lick him clean.  No, no… that’s hardly a punishment.  What if he threw you over his knee?

Also not quite the worst case scenario.

So you sing for him.  With every little breath, you vocalize how good it feels, how good he feels, until suddenly those subtle grinds against the bed are anything but and he’s practically growling around you.  

His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed, tongue swirling around every inch as he bobs his head, tip striking his throat– and he humps against the bed as though the panopticon of his pride had never been there at all to observe such a desperate act unbecoming of a god.

The sight sends you hurtling over the edge, back rising from the bed as you pull him down hard to bury your length deep in his throat, spilling thick and warm just for him.  His name falls from your lips over and over like a prayer, and by the time your back hits the bed once more you hear and feel him finding his own release as he thrusts away at nothing.

The thought alone of what just happened is enough to make you see stars…

You pet through his hair affectionately, cooing praise until those piercing eyes crack open and stare lazily through the haze.  He pants next to your still-twitching length to recover himself, spit glistening at the tip of his nose, strings of it still clinging to your cock from the edges of his mouth– too invested in painting his masterpiece to realize he’d become part of it.

Eventually though, you manage to get him to crawl back up.  You thumb away at the mess, utterly hypnotized when he grabs your wrist and sucks your digit clean. You can see it in his eyes… You can feel it in the way he kisses you after.

Ever the perfectionist, Albert Wesker is far from finished with you.

[midori-laboratories]

Ashes In The Fall - Chapter 5: Tension and Calculation I

Book 2 of the Calendula Chronicles

Resident evil, Wesker X OC

Story Summary: Marigold Ashford escaped the mansion, only to face new incarceration with a familiar jailor. She may yet have to make a deal with the devil, if she can unearth what this Faustian bargain would cost her.

There is always something left to lose.

Chapter summary: In the aftermath of Marigold's control snapping, Wesker considers how to use this, while Marigold confirms a few things about what Umbrella was really doing.

A little over a week passed. With the shock of the gym incident receding, Wesker used the time to re-evaluate how to handle his charge.

The blood draws resumed every few days, albeit on a smaller scale; vials only. Ashford herself had admitted that the vials were difficult to manage one-handed at the best of times. Given how she tensed whenever Wesker came within a few feet of her, these were…hardly the best of times.

That little admission had come back to bite her, it seemed.

Wesker had started to find more reasons to dip into that bubble of space she had constructed for herself. A touch to the arm when drawing blood. A hand to the elbow, or to the small of her back, when escorting her to the lab.

It seemed that she had decided, thus far, not to run.

Any actual operations were moved offsite, out of range. He and Birkin had gone over exposure vectors she might have used years ago. Spencer had been particularly concerned about testing for a rare mycelium colony in her bloodstream, and had been horrified when she hadn't shown signs of infection, oddly enough. Miss Ashford, or Placidia (Birkin always seemed more comfortable not using her true name), might have lived a cloistered life for the most part, but from all reports, she was hardly an actual nun.

“I’m already getting far more input than before. The external viral vector is enough to pile on the rest of it.”

The virus changed the equation; she had been quite correct on that point. It was...a workable change. Some of his own physiological responses he had experienced in close proximity to her had been somewhat more than he had anticipated, but they could be factored in.

The virus responded to her. The video feed of the tyrant guards letting her slip past had been one (glorious, schadenfreude-infused) instance, but it was an entirely different thing to experience it in person.

The incident in the gym had shown him just how much power she had available, kept tightly tamped down. Had she understood, he rather thought every creature in the mansion would have quietly returned to their enclosures. If Doctor Clemens had been deep enough in his infection at the time, he might have even been subconsciously induced to release her.

Miss Ashford seemed to respond viscerally to the presence of the virus in turn. The memory of her encounter with the mutated Marcus seemed to leave a lasting impression in her nightmares, for all his efforts to look human, and young. Wesker had found himself waking abruptly for several nights in a row before putting that particular problem together. The woman had been passively radiating distress each time, with the virus in his own veins attuning itself to the pheromone signals she emitted, contact or no contact.

And then that little incident in the gym had occurred…

Well. For now, they were in a holding pattern. Birkin was still working to extract himself and his research from Umbrella. For now, the best thing to do was to hold and consider how to handle the new information.

-----

For Marigold’s part, the incident seemed to shift the tone of her confinement from asset to...something else. While she hadn’t dared to let go again as she had in the gym, she still was escorted to use the equipment for the sake of mitigating her cabin fever.

And he kept touching her. The contact was small, almost perfunctory, but it was distracting. This man seemed to be an expert at throwing her off her balance. ‘

Ii was making it harder to shut down that hungry part of herself.

In all of the excitement, she had forgotten something from her day in Raccoon City. During a blood draw and examination, she forced herself to ask. “What’s under the police station?”

He eyed her, speculative. “Did someone mention something to you?”

“You know well enough that no one would have.” He hmmmed in response, non-committal.

Marigold glared, then relented. “I spent a few hours down the street from it, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Something is down there. It’s...sharper than the feeling from the mansion. I don’t have the lexicon for ‘here there be monsters’ developed quite yet.”

Something about that statement seemed to amuse him, from the briefest twitch of his eyes and mouth. He finished the draw, pressing light above the puncture point as he removed the needle from her arm, then stepped back to take a seat across from her. She was almost getting used to it. He settled into his seat, taking a moment to presumably collect his thoughts.

“You were woken briefly before going into long-term storage. Spencer had wanted to speak to you directly, and a telephone call was arranged during the brief window it was deemed safe to wake you. You may not have been entirely lucid. Do you recall? It’s...related.”

Passive voice, clinical. He might have been describing one of the infected rats, with the amount of distance pumped into that statement. “Not clearly? I remember...Spencer making assumptions. Again. I think I made him angry?” She thought back. “There was a woman nearby, maybe in the next room. She kept crying for her mother.”

“She wasn’t.”

Marigold’s face narrowed. “It was distracting enough to comment upon, evidently.”

“Lisa Trevor hadn’t spoken since early 1968. Given the purpose of the space, I doubt Spencer felt comfortable having the mansion’s architect, or his next-of-kin, out in the world after it was completed. He never was one to suffer loose ends. Prototype - what you like to call Sonnetroppe, although the active form is the T-virus - was already being tested on the family back then.”

Marigold stared openly. She had heard the rumors back then. After a month or so, it had made the papers in New York and resurfaced every few years as an unsolved mystery. George Trevor, his wife, and fourteen-year-old daughter - the papers had redrawn age-progression sketches each time to show what the girl might look like as time passed - gone, into thin air.

Spencer had always been a monster, then. Smiling at her family, reaching out to seat her within the company once her father was gone. Alexander was effectively exiled and left to his own devices.

Neutralized.

She forced herself to draw in a breath, then another. Her moods and the pheromones were always linked. She was well trained in minding that particular fact, suppressing hard. It was more difficult now. A rather large part of her wanted the lash out at Wesker with all her strength. She’d taken savage joy in doing so to Marcus back in the day, and she had still needed to be so, so careful.

But that wouldn’t get her any closer to answers, and they both knew it. Were it not for the massive improvements in her…network capabilities…she would have demanded her suppressants on the spot. She had functioned so long and well while on them that their absence that she had forgotten what it was to go without.

Wesker continued after a moment. “The Paris lab developed something to supplement lost cerebral function from the virus. Birkin was able to requisition a sample. It…worked. Too well. Miss Trevor mutated more than anticipated, but she started asking for her mother again.” His mouth pressed in a firm line. “Several female staff members were killed before the-Miss Trevor could be contained. But Birkin was able to extract to first strains of the G-virus - Golgotha - from that event. That’s what you could sense under the police station.”

Marigold slumped down in her chair. “So it has always been this way.” She said, quietly. Her trip to Romania back in had alerted her to the potential for danger, but she'd lacked the imagination for its scale. It would have been comparatively easy to burn the whole thing to the ground back then. 

“If I might ask,” Wesker pressed after a moment. “How on earth were you exposed? Spencer mentioned Marcus and ‘failed mischief’, but refused to say anything more. There are - were - reams of information on Miss Trevor. Not so, here.”

Well, at least one thing managed to effectively burn to the ground - Wesker had clearly managed to get no further than the destroyed house, and possibly the back lot“No one said? It seems obvious.” Wesker said nothing, only waited. So Spencer had kept it to himself, then. Anyone who might have backed up the story was dead or in the wind. Telling him wouldn’t give anything but closure. “I tagged along with my brother when they went to Africa, once the site was secured.” It was close enough to the truth. Alexander had later admitted that Spencer and her father were looking for ways to tie Marcus closer to their venture, and Spencer had been salivating at taking a more…traditional approach to it, when Marigold had run into trouble earlier that year.

However, no one had thought to tell Marcus anything of the sort- Spencer had planned to put it to Marcus once the more delicate part of their work had wrapped up. Marcus’ little tantrum had wiped that plan so thoroughly away that it had been deemed best to never speak of it again by all parties involved.

She suppressed another shudder at the thought of that disaster ever going through - her current situation was likely an improvement, truth be told. “Marcus seemed irritated that my family showed up at his project. Apparently, it seemed entirely appropriate to attempt to kill the least valuable one despite being invited - especially as I’d blown up my standing in London a few months earlier. No, I won’t get into that.” Wesker raised an eyebrow at the unprompted aside but said nothing. Marigold continued. “We had to take malaria medication. I imagine it couldn’t have been difficult to spike any one dose. I didn’t wake up for days. We were lucky that Alexander caught on fast enough to make it look like I’d forgotten to take my medication and got unlucky.” She smiled suddenly, sharp. “He probably knew we were lying, but if anyone saw me spit in Marcus’ coffee at the funeral, they kept it to themselves.”

She looked up sharply. “Birkin didn’t like me. I know it was a matter of association, but it was still personal. What kept him from doing the same to me? As with…” she trailed off, hesitant to give voice to what had happened to that poor girl in the bowels of the mansion, the very same year she herself had fallen ill, and arisen as something else.

Wesker’s mask was as closed as ever, but she got a distinct feeling that the question pleased him. “Because that would have been a waste.”

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (CH.11)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her  brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of  cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling  upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she  can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight  Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 11: The Silver Wolf

Claire paid the taxi driver and got out. She paused long enough on the curb to look around the busy streets of downtown Raccoon City. Traffic was heavy. It was rush hour time and everyone was heading home for the evening. Because of the short winter days, daylight was already succumbing to oncoming nightfall. It had been a bit warmer today with the sun showing itself, but Claire knew once it set, the temperature would drop to freezing fast. She bundled up in her parka and headed south down the sidewalk.

Crowded bodies filled the walkways, some walking south, others walking north or crossing the street when the light was red. She ignored the calls of the people around her, the sloshing of melting snow under tires, and the honking horns of rolling traffic. Carolers sang nearby and a Santa Claus rang a bell outside a store for donations. Most of this went right over Claire, her mind a maelstrom of thoughts and worries. She wondered what she would have to do next.

The younger Redfield had left a note for her brother claiming she had left to go babysit and would be home later this evening and would call if she had any problems. She only hoped that she would actually be able to return home tonight and that the blackmailing STARS Captain didn’t plan on keeping her longer than intended…or getting her killed.

Claire turned off from the sidewalk and entered a parking lot for a strip mall. She didn’t pay much attention to the stores. One was a clothing outlet and another was a bakery. The college student crossed the parking lot, heading for the row of bare landscaping trees in the center. About halfway there, the low rumbling of a car creeped up behind her. She tensed and quickly recognized the glossy, sleek luxury car. She halted, glaring at the tinted windows. Oh, how she didn’t want to do this…

With one last look around her surroundings, Claire opened the passenger door and entered the car. Inside, she was greeted with warmth from the heater, and the smell of leather and faint cologne. Clenching her jaw, she looked to the driver’s seat and unsurprisingly was greeted with a familiar leer.

“Miss Redfield, it’s dangerous to get into a stranger’s vehicle.” Wesker was still dressed in his STARS uniform and must’ve just got off from his shift. Chris would’ve just ended his as well.

Her glare didn’t falter. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, it’s good to know that you can follow directions. And punctual.

That irked her. “So?”

He wasn’t fazed by her tone, merely more amused. “Good work on the note, dear heart. And the splendid cover story of babysitting for William. You’re a clever one indeed. A woman after my own heart.”

“What heart?” she growled.

His dark smirk only grew.

She didn’t want to know how he knew the specifics. It didn’t matter anyway. It just confirmed that she was indeed trapped in his web, forever under his control. At least until a window of opportunity presented itself to her. She hadn’t given up yet. Redfields don’t quit…

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with. What are you making me do this time?”

A familiar chime rang out. Wesker, still parked in the lot, pulled out his pager, a smirk growing on his face. “You’ll see, my dear.”

She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Actually, yes, she could. After a long, boring phone call from Colonel Sergei asking for a status report on her “investigation”, Ada was summoned to NEST by Wesker. She didn’t mind dealing with him or William, they were both fun and interesting in their own ways, especially together. It was Annette that she didn’t want to get involved with. The woman had it out for Ada and put a damper on her mood any chance she got.

As soon as she made it to the visitor’s entrance to NEST, the agent was frisked down by security and forced to go through not only a decontamination spray but a programmed security scan by a computer. Needless to say, some of her gadgets were taken away. Miffed, Ada griped at security personnel as she waited for Annette to arrive and escort her. Why couldn’t it have been William? He’s a lot more fun…

“Hey! That isn’t a toy,” Ada snapped, watching a guard play with her lipstick. “You want your head blown off? Jesus.”

“With all these weapons, how are we to know you aren’t planning to assassinate Dr. Birkin?” another guard asked.

“Oh, totally. I was summoned here by Albert and that would be such a genius move on my part.” Her biting sarcasm was one of her more underrated virtues...sarcasm was a virtue, right? At least in her book. Better than having none, too.

“We’re just doing what we were instructed to do, Miss Wong,” the female greeter said with a nervous smile. “We’re sorry for the inconvenience.”

“You cannot always expect to get a red carpet arrival, Miss Wong.”

That voice. There she was. The wicked witch. Ada smiled sweetly and turned around to face the Queen of NEST.

Annette smirked sourly. “Waving around your passes from Lord Spencer and Colonel Sergei? They have no power here. This is my husband’s domain.”

“Annette, so good to see you again. Could you please take me to William? Kinda have to. Albert’s…insistence.”

Annette slowly nodded, her eyes flicking over to the security guards who had Ada’s confiscated items. “She is to get all of her supplies back when she departs. Handle them with the utmost care, she is a guest. We do have one other guest coming that will need to be searched, and he has a signed note of what needs to stay on him. Page me when he arrives.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Annette motioned to Ada after getting a visitor’s ID wristband for her. “Follow me.”

“Yay...”

The two women traversed NEST using their ID wristbands. Ada immediately noticed they were not going anywhere near William’s laboratory. They bypassed the underground facility and went into the sewers, using catwalks and following marked paths.

“Gonna take me out with the trash?” Ada quipped.

“Maybe one of these days.”

“What’s your problem with me anyway?”

Annette side-glanced her with a frown. “You’re a mole. I don’t trust you. I don’t care what Albert says.”

“Aw c’mon, Annie. Live a little.”

“Don’t call me that.”

They took a concrete tunnel that had multiple turns and doors, and Annette brought them to a red door. Ada hadn’t seen any other people, but knew they weren’t that far from NEST or the waste treatment plant.

The female Dr. Birkin rapped on the door. “Will, honey, it’s me.”

The door gave a hollow click, unlocked, and then opened. The King of NEST allowed them entry and closed and locked the door behind them. The room was a conference room of some kind. A long table surrounded with chairs took up most of it. An unused projector hung above, with one wall draped with a white screen. The table was clean except for a cup of coffee, a closed briefcase, a laptop, and a file with its contents of papers spread out by one chair. There were a few video feeds on one wall showing hallways and tunnels to and from NEST and the waste treatment facility. Attached to the conference room through a doorway was another room sporting a kitchen and vending machines.

“Ada, what a pleasant surprise,” William greeted sweetly, but soon noticed the glare from his wife and cleared his throat. “Please sit. Coffee?”

“I’m fine, thanks. I’ll just get my instructions and be on my way. Albert said it was time sensitive.”

“Oh, right. Of course.”

“You sound funny, Will. You got a cold or something?”

“Yes,” William answered as he shifted through the briefcase on the table, “But I created an immune boost overnight and took it a few hours ago and feel much better!”

Ada smiled. What a nerd…an ingenious, ruthless nerd…but still…

“Ahh, here we are,” William stated, pulling an envelope and handing it to the agent. “Have fun with that…”

“Thanks, hun,” she replied with a purr, deliberately smiling flirtatiously and ignoring Annette’s lightning eyes. “I’ll take my leave. Don’t worry, Annie. I know the way out. Ciao.”

William gawked as he waved her goodbye, but soon took notice of Annette’s lightning eyes now directed at him. “What?!”

Ada chuckled to herself as she swung the door shut behind her, leaving henpecked William defenseless with his wife.

William flipped through his notes, backtracking and confirming the results displayed on his laptop. He paused long enough to take a drink of his lukewarm coffee. He didn’t react to it, having been used to drinking coffee at all temperatures. His foot tapped restlessly as he worked. Annette should’ve been back by now, although William wasn’t sure if maybe he missed an important detail to her ranting earlier when he had tuned her out.

Ada this, Ada that, Albert this and that, blah blah blah. But there was something about Sherry’s Christmas present, fruit cake, a meeting with John at the Spencer estate, and…? Hmm, surely it wasn’t anything important.

The Umbrella Chief of Research paused long enough to actually think about it. He was in the private briefing room of the neighboring waste facility next door from NEST, waiting for Albert and Claire. Ada had been gone a couple of hours already with her assignment. So then what was taking his wife so long from going over the Plant 43 report?

Wait…didn’t she say something about another person showing up here to meet with Albert?

That’s what it was! But who was it? He really had picked the wrong time to zone out from Anne’s constant chatter.

Oh, look at that! Subjects 132 and 109 were a close enough match that G was able to reproduce flawlessly! And at a 23 percent time increase over Subjects 76 and 55! My genetics research is never wrong!

William rapped away on his laptop keys ecstatically until a knock sounded at the door behind him. Oh, right. Annette. That had to be her.

“Will, honey? It’s me.”

Indeed it was, and it was the code that everything was safe. William scooted his chair back and rose. He went over to the door and unlocked it. When he opened it, he remained in the doorway to see who this “other person” was that was supposed to meet with Albert.

He took one look and laughed. “Are you shitting me? Go away.”

Despite his wife’s protest, William went to shut the door in their faces, but a boot came in the threshold and stopped the door dead. William tried to shove, but the mercenary easily pushed the door open, making the G-Virus creator slide with the door like he weighed nothing.

“Fine…I guess I’ll let you in,” Will growled.

“I see you haven’t changed, comrade.”

“Uh, that’s Doctor Birkin to you.”

Nikolai Zinoviev smirked and looked at Anne. “Your husband. He’s like little angry puppy around me always. All bark, no bite, yeah?”

Annette sighed, half-rolling her eyes. “Please, Mr. Zinoviev. Don’t get him started.”

William crossed his arms with a huff. “I don’t need to bite. I’ve got people to do that for me.”

The mercenary’s smirk didn’t falter, and William grew even more miffed. What in the world did Albert need this jerk for? They all knew he was best buds with Sergei. His code name was “Silver Wolf” if William recalled, and he was a sergeant in the Colonel’s Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service. A joke regiment, as far as he was concerned.

“Oh, right. Like comrade Wesker? I’m curious what you would do without him around, Doctor Birkin.”

“Brains always beats brawn, Nikky.”

The UBCS sergeant snatched William by the shirt and picked him up off the floor. “Well, it’s good thing I have both, no? And comrade Wesker, he has both, yeah? You, on other hand, just very big brain and mouth, and puny body.”

As they glared at each other, Annette pulled a pistol from her lab coat and tapped it on her thigh in plain sight of the two men. “Release my husband, Mr. Zinoviev.”

The Russian mercenary softly chuckled. “I am only having little fun. Everyone knows it is death wish to touch hair on his head.” He dropped William and patted him on the shoulder. “Ease up, Dr. Birkin. I am friend to you today.”

“Coffee, Mr. Zinoviev?” Annette asked when William and Nikolai sat down across from each other at the table.

“I accept your gracious offer. Thank you, Mrs. Birkin.”

“She’s also Dr. Birkin,” William said with a glare.

He looked away from the mercenary just long enough to page Wesker. He should have ended his shift at the RPD by now and would be picking up Claire.

“My apologies.”

Annette slipped into the other room to make their “guest’s” beverage. When she returned, she handed Nikolai his cup and sat down next to her husband. The silence that settled was stuffy and uncomfortable, but William and Nikolai only glared at each other.

Anne sighed. “Will, it’s not like you to be so quiet.”

“I don’t trust him.”

Nikolai’s lips slightly rose on one side, but he didn’t react much more than that. He looked the same since William saw him last. Still the short silver hair and steely dark gray eyes. He wasn’t dressed in his UBCS uniform though, just civilian clothes with a light jacket.

“He’s a friend of Albert’s, honey. All of his friends are shady assholes.”

“You’re definitely right about tha-hey!”

Annette smiled playfully his way before her pager beeped in her coat. She pulled it out and looked at the message. “There’s Li. He’s got a problem with the newest batch of MA-125 embryos. I’ll go handle it. Albert better get here soon. You and I have so much to catch up on.”

“He should be on his way, dear.”

His wife glared at the silent Russian mercenary. “Mr. Zinoviev, it would be in your best interest to listen to my husband and to keep yourself from antagonizing him. This is a warning.”

Nikolai looked to Annette as she rose from her seat, and the two kept each other’s gaze for a long, tense moment. The UBCS sergeant nodded with a polite smile. “Of course, Dr. Birkin. I’ll be on my best behavior. After all,” he turned his crafty eyes back to the Golgotha creator. “I wouldn’t want to piss off “big brother.”

Annette left the briefing room. William felt trapped and exposed at the same time. The silence ate at him once more. Nikolai looked around the room for a moment but soon his eyes landed back on William and stayed. The Chief of Research fidgeted in his seat, uneasy. He picked up his pencil and played with it, thinking.

I swear to God, Al, if you took a detour to stick your dick in the Redfield girl, I’m gonna kick your ass.

A long bout of silence longer, and William couldn’t take it anymore. He had to talk.

“So…I never asked before…How did you and Albert meet?”

Nikolai shrugged. “A few years ago, he and his sister arrived to Rockfort Island on business to deal with Ashford and his associates. An internal affair investigation led by the Umbrella Intelligence Division. At time, my rivalry with particular Umbrella Special Service agent, codenamed HUNK, had landed-

“HUNK? What kind of codename is that supposed to be?” Nikolai wasn’t amused about being interrupted and when he opened his mouth to continue, William just interrupted him again. “Is he really a hunk?”

The Russian mercenary sighed, agitated. “It had landed me in hot water to put mildly. It had nothing to do with them, but Wesker still pulled strings to lift charges and actually got me promoted afterward. So now we help each other from time to time.”

William wiggled his pencil in boredom to make it look like it was made of rubber. “Oh yeah? Well, I’ve known Albert since we were kids! We were both raised under James Marcus as his proteges.”

The UBCS sergeant rolled his eyes. “I know. Say…didn’t Dr. Marcus die under “mysterious” circumstances?” he grinned.

The G-Virus creator snorted. “No! He died under completely normal circumstances. Poor old bastard. He was like a dad to me.”

Watching him die at my feet was one of the best days of my life and I cannot wait for the same to happen with Spencer.

Nikolai chuckled. “Yeah, sure.”

“Y’know, what does that tell you about your friendship with ‘ol Serggy? He obviously left you hanging in your time of need in that wretched place. Al would never do that to me. Just saying…”

“Conflict of interests, comrade,” Nikolai stated evenly, slightly narrowing his eyes. “He wasn’t allowed to.” The UBCS sergeant soon relaxed, shrugging. “Besides, Sergei and I are close enough friends to understand that we can and will sell each other out if right opportunity presents itself. Especially on his end. Same with Wesker and myself. What fantasy are you living in that Wesker isn’t using you, comrade? You’re obviously using him…protection mostly, as I have feeling you’d be dead already otherwise. Your arrogance and ambitions stem directly from fact that you know “big brother” protects you. Otherwise, you are coward.” Nikolai leered his way. “Just saying…”

William bristled but visually only offered a half-smirk. “Of course we use each other. I didn’t say that we didn’t, Nikky. But unlike your loyalty to your old friend Sergei, ours cannot be bought. It’s more of a “I’ll scratch your back if you’ll scratch mine” sort of situation...without any actual scratching.”

Nikolai laughed hollowly. “Anything can be bought, Dr. Birkin. Anything. You of all people know that. You blackmail this city for your own agendas. You don’t look it, but I know you’ve killed just as many people as Wesker has…sold them out, back-stabbed them, or even used them in experiments. Quit kidding self. You and Wesker are no different. The right offer just hasn’t been made.”

Albert had once told him that Nikolai had the potential to become more of a threat than Sergei. And now he knew why. He saw things differently than the Colonel. And his mind worked like Al’s in more ways than one.

William glared at the UBCS sergeant hard, bitter. Nikolai kept his gaze with his own sharp eyes, a sneer lurking on his lips. William subconsciously clenched the pencil in his hand hard. But nothing could be said between the two men before the door to the briefing room swung open. William should have looked, in case it was danger, as Annette had obviously forgotten to lock it again, but he and Nikolai didn’t move. That is, until a distinct voice broke them from their fuming trance. The subtleties of the tone told him that his partner was slightly annoyed, but anyone else would have just heard the business-like resonance.

“Nikolai. You and me. Let’s talk.”

William smugly smirked and waved goodbye with his fingers as Nikolai rose from his chair. Unaffected by neither Wesker’s tone or William’s snide, the Russian mercenary snorted and left the table.

“Good talking, Nikky!”

“William.”

The Golgotha creator hunkered and innocently looked his best friend’s way. He didn’t miss the glare meant for him behind the shades, but he motioned to the beautiful girl at his side. “Look after Miss Redfield. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Sure, pal.”

When Nikolai stopped to look at Claire, grey eyes both quite interested and wary, William didn’t miss the curl in Albert’s lip as he stepped in between them, motioning to the door. Nikolai took the hint immediately and left the room without looking back. The look Wesker gave Claire before following him out may have looked harmless enough, but William knew what it really meant. He gave the Redfield girl a gentle smile, offering her a seat next to him. After all, she didn’t realize that Albert was never going to let her go.

She relaxed a little when it was just the two of them and sat down with him.

“Coffee, my dear?” he asked. William didn’t like most people and never had concern over their lives or feelings. There were only a select few he genuinely cared for in his busy life, the rest was only an act, if he even bothered with it at all. But he found himself growing fond of Claire more and more, though wasn’t sure whether it was over Claire herself or the fact that his partner was unhealthily obsessed with her.

With a surrendering sigh, her forehead connected with the table and it made him smile. Both, definitely both.

Claire ignored William’s whistling tune as he made her a cup of coffee in the side room. When she heard the ceramic mug hit the tabletop, she raised her face off the table to see the fresh brew steaming nearby. She quietly took it with a quick nod of thanks to the eccentric researcher.

As she quietly blew her lips over the rim, her eyes carefully examined the room she was in. It was a conference room of some kind way down here in the sewers near the big, creepy Umbrella facility. She noticed the variety of things William had by his chair: a briefcase, a closed laptop, and a closed file with some pages poking out messily.

She took a sip, her eyes finally hovering on the door. “Who was that silver-haired guy?”

William, antsy, shifted nearly constantly in his chair next to her. Wesker wasn’t kidding. The guy was a fiend of restlessness. “Huh?” She must have jerked him from his own thoughts. “Oh, Nikolai? He’s an asshole, don’t worry about him.”

“Do you know why Wesker brought me here?”

“Yes,” William answered, and patted the briefcase sitting on the table near him. “All in here. But I’ll let him go over it with you. I’m out as soon as he gets back.”

Claire grabbed his arm hard, instinctively putting pressure where Chris had taught her for self-defense. “Don’t leave me alone with him!”

“Ow! Retract the claws, sweetheart! You’ll be fine! He doesn’t bite…all the time.”

She glared his way and squeezed harder.

“Ow, I was just joking! Why are you redheads so mean to me?!”

Claire let him go with a huff. She fumed to herself while William rubbed his arm, pouting. Once she calmed down, she looked at him. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I just…want out of this.”

William sighed. “No harm, no foul. And I understand. Unfortunately, that is between you and Al. I can’t help you with that. But he likes you enough…just do what he says and get it over with. Like I said before, he’s giving you a chance that he's never given anyone.”

Claire lowered her eyes to her hot coffee. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

They were both quiet for a long moment, and then William gently offered a change in subject. “My daughter adores you. She raved about you nonstop the other day.”

Claire smiled. “Sherry was a doll. It was a real treat meeting her.”

William grinned proudly. “She’s super smart, like her parents. And real self-sufficient.”

“She seemed lonely to me.”

William frowned. “Yeah…our lives are kinda hectic. Our work keeps us away most of the time. She has a hard time making friends, and well, Anne and I just never got around to giving her a sibling. And her godfather doesn’t have any children for her to play with. We tried pets, but that was a no-go. Dogs take too much work and Anne is allergic to cats. I got a baby alligator for her one time though.” William hesitated, thinking hard while tapping his chin. “What happened to that thing?”

“Do you and Annette not have other family? Parents, siblings? No cousins for Sherry to play with?”

The Umbrella researcher flinched, but he did so in a way that Claire barely caught it. “Nah. Anne’s parents and older sister don’t talk to her and don’t live here. Me? I was an orphan. Umbrella has programs that help orphans and foster children into new homes to put it simply. I was taken in by a man named James. Went to a private school. Even though I was a one-of-a-kind child prodigy, I…got bullied a lot. Was there for about a year until James took in Albert as well. We were in the same boat, so to speak…orphans with nowhere else to go.” Will half-smiled as he thought back to those memories, and Claire sensed sadness there. “Al wasn’t very friendly at first. I mean, he’s never really been friendly to anyone except me and that took quite some time. Poor kid had been through hell. I was his punching bag for a bit, but mostly he kept to himself. I tried everything to be his friend, but that just made things worse. We fought a lot. One day I accidentally destroyed a project of his. I tried to rebuild it with what I had on hand and...well...it didn’t turn out so great. So, I’m expecting the usual knuckle sandwich he likes to feed me when he shows up, but he doesn’t. He just...laughs. I actually made the little bastard laugh! After that, we were instant best friends, brothers. I never had to worry about bullies again. We raced through school and college, as we were both prodigies. But we also went through absolute hell together. Umbrella offered us positions in research and development of medicines. And the rest is history.”

Claire took in the story, moved in a way she never thought to expect. She had known from Sherry that Wesker was a researcher as well, but now she wanted to know what made him become Captain of the Special Tactics and Rescue Service, of all things. “So, if Wesker was a researcher like you, why isn’t he one now? Why become a cop?”

“He’s still a researcher part-time...among other things.” Will cleared his throat. “And let’s just say Al became a cop because he has a strong sense of justice and wishes to help people.”

“Help people?” Claire snorted loudly. “Yeah, right.”

“Trust me, if you start down that rabbit hole, you’ll wind up dead fast. Best to just let it go, cupcake.”

Point taken. She was sure Wesker’s motives in law enforcement weren’t for anything good. Claire decided to change the subject, wondering what else she could dig for. “So, what happened to James?”

William’s eyes fell down and away. “Oh…he, uh, passed away. ‘Bout a decade ago. Anne, Sherry, and Albert are the only family I’ve got.”

The college student could tell that he was deliberately keeping parts out, but didn’t press it. She took a drink of her coffee, studying him. “You said Wesker went through hell. What happened to him? And what about his sister? He told me he had one.”

“An older sister by one year. Albert didn’t find out about her until later. Eh, a complicated matter, really. As for what happened to him, it isn’t for me to say. But it wasn’t nice.”

Claire only grew more curious and found herself feeling a tiny bit sad over what could’ve possibly happened to Wesker and William both. Obviously, certain events throughout their lives had turned them into the people they were today. She wanted to know. More clues proving that Wesker wasn’t just some power-hungry psychopath. There was a reason he was the way he was and he did the things he did. Everything he did had a purpose. And all of his goals seemed to point to power and control.

Claire wondered if maybe something happened to Wesker out of his control when he was young that damaged him. Or maybe she was just giving him too much credit.

The younger Redfield let it go. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll never feel sorry for him after what he’s done.”

William half-smirked. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel that way. Just saying what happened. I love Al like a brother, but he is a monster. A brotherly monster, so to speak! A monster created through circumstances out of his control and he never let it go. And, well, I’m no different. Albert’s always been treated as a weapon or a tool...what they created was something far worse that can never be ruled again. You know what they always say in those comics? Heroes aren’t born, they’re made. The same applies to villains. But the thing about good and evil and all the gray in between, Claire, is that it’s a matter of perspective.”

So, she was right after all. There was more to him than met the eye...

I am no longer the ruled...I am the ruler…

Claire was quiet, taking in the genius researcher’s philosophy. She really didn’t know what to say to it, but her chance was soon lost when she heard the room’s door open. The air immediately changed, and she didn’t even have to look to know that it was Wesker who had returned. She was surprised to see that his silver-haired companion was nowhere in sight. But where Claire had instantly glared his way as he slowly approached them, taking off his sunglasses, William instantly brightened with a lopsided grin.

“Did you have a nice chat with ‘ol Nikky? He sure is a grouch. No sense of humor at all!”

She would have relaxed from William’s usual boast of teasing and humor had Wesker not been eyeing her closely since entering the room. Without the shades, his stare was even more unnerving than usual - even though Claire couldn’t help but to admit that he did have captivating eyes.

The younger Redfield’s heart jumped to her throat the second he gave her a devious smile, but thankfully his eyes soon left her. She almost staggered and felt like collapsing when the pressure that she had felt from his scrutiny fell off her like a crushing weight. Her stomach felt funny from the sudden and unexpected adrenaline rush. Lightheaded, she stayed quiet while Wesker offered William his most sarcastic smirk.

“What’s wrong, Will? Don’t like sharing my attention?”

Will scoffed and waved his old friend off waggishly. “Me? Jealous? Hell no. I’m way more charming than he is. Funnier, too. And better looking, just for the record!”

The chuckle Wesker produced was gentler than usual. “Obviously, there is no competition.”

Wesker placed his hands on Claire’s shoulders. She flinched in her seat, shivering as his cool fingers kneaded her skin in an unmistakably possessive manner that was meant to intimidate her and assert his dominance over the situation - and her.

Fucking creep! Claire couldn’t help but curse him silently as she stiffened under his unexpected touch. But she soon noticed that her own body started betraying her beneath his massaging.

“Was our lovely assistant here any hassle for you?”

She braced, as though his fingers would turn into claws and tear into her, hands forming into fists in her lap as she stared hard at William. He tapped a pencil he was holding on the table, gaping at them for a moment, and Claire was sure he was indifferent to her internal suffering.

“Oh, no trouble at all. Pleasant company as always, Al. Without a punch to my attractive face, I might add.”

“Good.”

Claire glared at him, but the eccentric researcher suddenly sneaked a tiny smile and winked at her in an excessively conspiratorial manner. He grabbed the briefcase near him and slid it across the table to the seat on her other side without breaking eye contact with her. Wesker let her go and moved over to the briefcase and the younger Redfield just about collapsed in relief. She released a shaky breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

William stood up with an over-dramatic stretch. He picked up his closed laptop and folder and slipped them under his arm. “Well, I better get back to the lab. I’ve got cells from “you know what” to go over with faulty ribosome and polypeptide structures that need analysis.” He pushed in his chair and lazily saluted Claire. “Always a pleasure, Claire. Be good.”

He didn’t even have a chance to take one step towards the exit before Wesker grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him back. “Whaaaaat?” he groaned like an indignant teenager.

Wesker’s smirk was a malicious kind of playful. “Will, my dear friend, did you not hear? Claire is babysitting Sherry for you.”

William laughed. “Sherry hasn’t needed an actual babysitter in almost three years! I mean except for you, Uncle Alby!”

Wesker snickered and then suddenly punched Will in the gut hard enough to make him lurch and yelp, though he wheezed a laugh. “Fuck, ow!”

Claire jumped to her feet. “Jesus! Why the hell do you hurt him if he’s your friend?!”

William, grimacing, waved her off, still wheezing snickers. “S’all good. It’s how he shows affection.”

Once William got his breath back, he shoved Wesker away from him and straightened his lab coat. “So…I take it the babysitting thing is the cover-up with her brother? Clever!”

“You should pay her for it, Will. Make it look legitimate.”

William glared at Wesker. “You pay her! All I got is the grocery allowance! Besides, she’s your “project”. Not mine!”

Claire quickly grew annoyed. “I don’t want any blood money from anyone, let alone you two assholes.”

“Hey, my grocery allowance is not blood money. I keep that in an entirely different account, thank you very much.”

“All I want to do is finish this and get my freedom. Can we move on, please?” Claire groused.

“You heard the lady, Al,” William said with a shrug. “Get to it! I gotta get back to work.”

The eccentric researcher took his leave while rubbing the sore spot in his stomach. When the door shut and Claire was left alone with Wesker, the atmosphere seemed to electrify. She stared at the door, regretting having hurried William out the door. Wesker’s imposing presence silently seemed to push all the air out of the room as he walked around her backside, his hand skimming along her back. She desperately swallowed the effects it had on her, though she couldn’t stop the goosebumps from sprouting on her skin.

“Well, dearheart,” he murmured finally. “Time to get to work...we have much to discuss and plan. No time like the present...”

He wrapped his arm firmly around her shoulder then, pulling her closer than she was comfortable with. He turned her to the table, where the briefcase contents were now out on the table. One look and Claire had a really, really bad feeling…She was about to get in way over her head…