#Wesker x oc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dutiful-wildcraft · 5 months ago

Text

Dear Heart

STARS Era Wesker x F!OC

I know this isn't COD but sometimes other fandom bugs run up and bite me, had to get this little scene out of my head. Nothing serious, just some very mild angst and fluff. Enjoy <3

Ruby bites back angry tears as she checks the clock for a final time.

An hour has already passed, with no page, no call, nothing.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Wesker to be held up at the office, actually it was more common than not. Working between both Umbrella and STARS left the man with little time some weeks.

But they’d discussed this. A nice night in.

A date.

Something so simple yet so important to her.

They’re relationship had been tumultuous to say the least. The head of Umbrella’s Security having had a hard thumb on her since her snooping in the beginning. And what had started out as deceit and sneaking around had turned into late nights in the lab, Wesker’s firm palm against her back, finally meeting the STARS team.

And this. A planned dinner.

An opportunity to simply exist, be domestic. Enjoy a simple meal and a movie.

And he’d stood her up.

She’d called his private number in his STARS office, his personal phone.

Nothing.

She feels like an idiot. Thinking the man would humor her in this way. Sure he’d only kept tabs on her to protect Umbrella assets in the beginning, but she thought…

It occurs to her now that his charm with her could have easily been ruse. A way to keep her compliant, a less messy resolution than just outright disposing of her. It’s not like he hasn’t lied to her before. He’s more than dedicated, and he has plenty of reasons to keep his hands clean. He was Albert Wesker, one of Umbrella's head researchers and security captain, on top of being the city’s STARS captain.

Also a dick head, her brain adds hatefully.

And she was Ruby, a far too nosy mid-level Umbrella biologist who stuck her nose in something she shouldn’t have. Stupidly thinking her closeness with the captain was more than what it actually was. Security detail.

She huffs, shoving herself off of the couch.

She could at least treat herself, take a nice long shower and think about the Category 5 Ass Chewing she was going bestow upon the stuck up blonde in the morning. It wouldn’t take away the hurt, but at least she could make it clear she wasn’t spineless.

She puts away their dinner, and pours herself a heaping glass of wine, and leaves the glass she had taken out for him to rot on the counter.

She’s already stripped, parading around in a fluffy robe while she sets out her favorite combination of scented oils and lotions. She’s turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the room when she hears a hard knock on her door.

She stomps out of the bathroom, not even bothering to check the peephole before swinging the door open.

She’s met with a face full of flowers, an intricate bouquet of roses and lilies in a gorgeous ornate glass vase. Silky red ribbon tied around the top with a small card. Behind the flower’s is one Albert Wesker, still clad in his tactical gear, a black bomber jacket with the STARS emblem on the shoulder tucked around him despite the lingering late summer heat.

“Absolutely not.” she snaps, hands on her hips as she looks him up and down.

Somewhere in her anger she notices something isn’t quite right, he looks sweaty, a small black smudge still lingering on his cheek, his sunglasses still in place despite it being late, but ignores it in favor or glaring.

He clears his throat briefly, shifting. “I apologize, I got caught-”

“I called. Several times, and paged.”

“There were circumstances out of my control.” he explains stiffly. “I received your calls after the fact.”

Her glare only intensifies. “I know you work over, but you could have said something. Anything really. You know if you didn’t want to do this you could have just told me so. I know you’re just trying to keep tabs on me, but you don’t have to toy with me like this.” she says. Small, bitter, she’d meant to be more mean.

She moves to close the door when a firm hand slams against it, and she swears she hears him grunt with the effort.

“If you would let me speak.” he says carefully, keeping a tight rein on his own frustration. “I have been late to very few things in my life, Doctor Martin, and this evening was certainly not supposed to be one of them.”

He pushes the door open, shouldering his way inside, with stiff movements and clicking the door shut behind him. He pushes the flowers into her arms and fixes her with a stern glare, one she can feel even behind the stupid sunglasses. He clears his throat again, laying into her with a voice just shy of hoarse. Why was he hoarse?

“Now. I was unable to return your call due to a city emergency. Alpha team was dispatched to assess the threat. Everything is secure now, but damage control took longer than anticipated. I don’t make promises I have no intentions of keeping.”

His tone drops lower, softer, yet still stern. “ I understand you have reasonable suspicion, but I would appreciate it if you had more faith in me than that.”

All the steam she had nearly billowing out of her ears seems to fade, and as much as she would like to grab a hold of it and hold on; remain steadfast and throw the cocky fuck out of her house, it sinks through her fingers like mist.

She clutches the flowers close to her chest, hiding her pout behind soft rose petals. She’s still frustrated, a bit embarrassed at her reaction, but willing to hear him out.

“You can stay for a minute, but we both have work in the morning.” she says stiffly, leaving him to stew while she turns on a heel, packing her flowers to the kitchen.

They really are beautiful, subtly fragrant. She pulls the little ribbon from around their stems and carefully adds water, resting the small card on her counter top when the tv catches her attention.

She watches the breaking headline flash across the screen over her kitchen counter. A dangerous hostage situation turned shootout just on the other side of town, an attempted bank robbery gone incredibly sideways. No casualties but multiple injuries to both officers and culprits.

She see’s none other than Barry Burton on her screen, the pseudo-lieutenant of the STARS Alpha team, giving a formal yet optimistic report of the evening’s events. In the background she spots a familiar blonde, sitting on the back steps of an ambulance, seemingly snapping angrily as a paramedic fusses with his left arm, a pool of darkness seeping through the navy sleeve of his uniform before the interview is cut short.

She blinks at the screen, pieces falling together in her little noggin. Slowly she rounds the corner, watches Wesker with wide eyes. His hand against her wall as he struggles to get off his tactical boots with one hand.

“Albert Wesker. Did you get shot?”

“Hmm?” he gives up his task, glancing at her with raised brows, as if she were the one asking confusing questions. A replay of the headline catches his attention. He watches the screen for a few moments before replying, utterly unphased.

“Ah yes, a few times.”

“A few-?? A few times??”

Her voice is shrill as she launches herself at him, batting his hands away from the stupid boots he insisted on trying to take off. Herding him across her apartment with a firm hand around his wrist, ranting the whole while.

"And you didn’t tell anyone?"

"They saw my injuries, it was nothing fatal, we wear vests for a reason Doctor Martin"

"And the bullet the vest didn’t catch?" she rounds on him, looking pointedly at the arm he refuses to move.

He sniffs, unbothered. "Panic makes people clumsy. The team looks to me for reassurance whether they mean to or not. If I were to react then the team would have been distracted. Compromising the entire operation.”

"Okay, sure, but instead of going to the hospital you came here?"

"I believe that’s obvious.”

"Albert Wesker."

"Correct"

Out of all of the men in Raccoon City…..

She pinches the bridge of her nose, bites back her snappy retorts as she guides him into her little bathroom, still foggy from her attempted shower.

She eases him onto the closed toilet seat, helps him ease out of the jacket, pulling it away from his good arm and then sliding the rest of the sleeve down his bad. Wincing where the blood seeping through his bandage had stuck to the interior.

With surprisingly gentle hands she pops the clasps of his tactical vest, easing either side away from his torso and resting it against the floor before helping him with the buttons of his shirt. She goes quiet as she tugs away the stiff navy fabric. Dark purple bruises have already bloomed across his pale chest in a mockery of craters, 3 to be exact, rippling out into sickly yellows and reds along his chest and stomach.

Her hands hover uselessly, seeking to comfort but too afraid to hurt him anymore than he already was. Instead she reaches for his glasses, pausing briefly for any argument before easing them off of his face, resting them on the counter before getting a better look at him.

She's met with those gorgeous silvery blues once again. Watching her keenly.

He looks exhausted, dark bruises already starting to stain the pale skin beneath his eyes. And she’s never felt like a bigger asshole, having doubted him and then snapped at him like a mad dog when he'd tried to make amends. Hiding literal bullet wounds just to see her.

“Let me grab some supplies” she sighs, slipping off down the hall to collect a med kit and painkillers.

She returns to find him sniffing curiously at her vanilla scented lotion, looking comically out of place amongst her soft lavender colored bathroom decor. He sets it down swiftly when she returns, turning back to her with the demeanor of the world's calmest patient.

With little preamble she eases him out of his shirt next, revealing the a blood soaked bandage along his bicep underneath.

As if she could be anymore frustrated with the man…

“This is just a big band-aid.” she snaps, looking back to him accusingly.

“It sufficed.”

“No. What would have sufficed would be letting the paramedics help you. I can almost bet you told the team you would drive yourself ” she rambles, using alcohol swabs to clean around the wound. Wesker hums, noncommittal, leans in closer to watch her face, warm breath ghosting across her cheeks, piercing blue eyes thoroughly distracting her from the task at hand.

“I had an appointment to make.” he says simply. She flicks her eyes over to his, searching tired blues for any signs of bullshit. What she sees is something soft, patient. An odd warmth that has her frozen in place for a moment, simply watching him watch her. She finally breaks away with a long suffering huff and grabs another clean swab.

Thankfully it wasn’t as ugly as it looked. The wound was still red and angry, lazily oozing blood as she tidied up the worst of it. A graze, a very, very, fortunate graze. One she thinks she can repair with a little focus and patience.

However, both of those are in short supply with the unnervingly calm captain beside her, shirtless and oddly obedient. She tries to avoid looking at his face, warning him softly before applying liquid stitch and assisting the closure with some butterfly bandages.

“I don’t know how you are simultaneously the most stubborn and patient man I have ever met. What if this was worse?” she frets. “Why didn't you just go to the hospital?.”

She's cut off when a gloved hand catches her chin. Warm lips pressing against her own, effectively shutting down whatever was coming next. It's soft, chaste. Gentle in a way she did not expect from the stoic captain.

He breaks away from her, those silvery blue eyes piercing her firmly into place.

"I have a doctor right here” he murmurs, lips still inches away from her own.

She’s dazed, blinking at him stupidly while a slow smirk creeps onto his face.

He kissed her.

Kissed her.

On purpose.

And she can’t tell if he’s just high on his own cocky supply or just cooked from blood loss with the way his smile makes his eyes crinkle.

“Not that kind of doctor” she breathes, brain scrabbling to say literally anything with his thumb brushing along her jaw the way it was. Eyes flickering between her eyes and lips.

“Is that so?” he murmurs, low and sweet, making her stomach flip as he tugs her back down again, lips moving slowly against her own.

What little resolve she had left crumbles to dust, lost in soft lips against hers, the warm scent of his cologne still clinging to him amongst the sweat and gunpowder. His other hand grabs her for purchase, warm palm curling into the plush of her thigh, tugging her in to stand between his legs.

It earns her a hum, Wesker smiling against her lips as she follows his lead easily. Gloved palm kneading the warm fat of her thigh like a pleased cat.

She wasn’t one to lose herself in most situations, but having Wesker wrapped around her was dizzying. His hands are achingly gentle yet demanding at the same time. Clever fingers guiding her like a puppet on a string.

She would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about kissing the man. As much as she had hated his guts at one point, he had grown on her. He was firm, direct in his words and actions. Not to mention he was gorgeous, broad and muscular, with the most distracting eyes she’d so graciously had the pleasure of seeing. It was no wonder he hid them as often as he did. She had imagined a kiss like this to be rough, greedy.

And yet he handles her with reverence. Large palms petting at her skin with a gentle care she had not anticipated. Lips claiming hers slowly, leisurely, savoring her like the sweetest dessert.

They stay like this for a while. Slow and exploratory. Ruby having dropped the extra bandages in favor of holding his face between soft hands, kitten nails sliding around to tug lightly at the golden blonde hair at his nape.

They finally break away when they both run out of air, the pair of them both red cheeked and lightheaded. Foreheads resting against one another as they catch their breath.

“Thank you, Doctor Martin.” he purrs, smirking against her skin, pressing another cheeky kiss to her lips, when she manages to break away, holding him at arm's length in an attempt to dodge another one of his little spells. She thinks if he caught her again she'd crawl into his lap and stay there. Certainly not the shenanigans she wanted to get up too with the man covered in cuts and bruises.

She can feel the heat in her face, right up to the tips of her ears, and she tries valiantly to get back her control.

“You’re still in trouble.” she stutters out accusingly.

His hand comes up to rub soothingly at her arm, fingers grazing delicately over her skin. Once again trying to draw her in closer. And something somewhere deep in the back of her mind tells her that Wesker has discovered something very powerful to use against her.

He smirks again, familiar confidence creeping back into his demeanor. “I was hardly injured, you saw for yourself. Do I need to quiet you down again?” he inquires easily. Watching her amusedly as she flounders once again.

She ignores his his little question, worming her way out of his arms and towards the cabinet, digging out a soft towel and wash cloth.

“Clean yourself up.” she says stiffly, attempting to sound stern despite the breathless wobble to her voice. She tosses the towels in his direction. Not bothering to look and see if he caught them as she shuts the door behind her with a click. “Behave yourself and I might heat up your leftovers.” she calls down the hall.

She hears her shower run as she slinks back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter to ponder all the events that lead her to this moment. How snooping through confidential Umbrella reports had led her into a heated makeout with her boss. Who was supposed to have dinner with her, and is now using her shower.

She drags her palms down her face, spying the small card Wesker had attached to her flowers. She pulls it open, careful not to tear the edges, and peers at the neat familiar cursive.

It’s short and simple, just two words, with a carefully rounded heart at the edge.

Dear heart

It's a simple endearment, one he bestowed upon her early. A name that has shifted from condescending to something that made her dumb little heart flutter.

It’s odd to see it tangible, written carefully and hand delivered to her. She holds the little pink paper close, tucking it away carefully in the small journal beside her couch.

When Wesker emerges, he’s greeted to a meal warmed and plated, accompanied by a tall glass of wine.

His soft girl waiting for him on the other side.

#I dont write for RE much but maybe this will change #resident evil #albert wesker #wesker x oc #re wesker #not cod #wildcraft writing

12 notes · View notes

playstation-dreamcast · 2 months ago

Text

Hi, so I wanna talk more about Grant on here, but truly the only way to understand the son is to know the father. So, you know that that means!

A NOT SO BRIEF INTRODUCTION TO ELIAS MCBRIDE!

Early Life:

Elias McBride was born to Donovan and Patrica McBride on August 12, 1960, making him a Leo- the worst zodiac of them all. (I'm also a Leo, don't come for me.)

Born tragically catholic, he was the eldest of nine sibling, three brothers and six sisters- some of which are younger than his own son. While he officially became a father in his teens, Elias had been preforming the father role to his siblings since he was like- eight. Honestly, he was never particularly good at it, and resented having to be- for lack of a better term- the "man of the house" from such a young age. But, with a drunkard for a father, what's a guy to do?

apparently hook up with a perfect stranger at a house party when you're 15, just to be forced to marry her four months later when she starts showing. Not how I personally would have gone about that, but to each their own.

He was always more focused on his studies and getting the fuck out of Texas, and out of his middle of no where town. He knew he didn't exactly have the funds to do so on his own- he came from a family of pig farmers for Christ sake. So, he focused on what he was good at: virology, anatomy, and human biology in the hopes of getting a grant and or scholarship and becoming a doctor.

You wouldn't believe how happy he was when Spencer and the Umbrella corporation showed interest in him, offering him a scholarship they give to "bright, young minds" to attend their training facility.

IMPORTANT: THE LOYALTY NEURON:

And before we go any further, we need to get into Elias's fucked up genetics. This goes far beyond him, to his ancestor Ephraim McBride. A former suitor of Mother Miranda's.

When Miranda first discovered the mold, she knew that people were going to come for this power and for her. She wasn't scared of these outside forces, but she would have rather not have been interrupted while trying to do her work and bring back her daughter.

So, she did what any sane person would do and started to genetically experiment on her least insufferable suitor- Ephraim- using the mold and wolf DNA to create the perfect guard dog. This early version of the lycan could pass as a human, but had inhuman strength, speed, hearing, and sense of smell.

They also came equipped with the Loyalty Neuron, a switch in their brain that when triggered left them imprinted on whoever triggered it. Loyal to a fault, protective to the point of being willing to die for their attached, and (in some, but not all) virtually unable to deny them a request.

it slowed down the aging process, but didn't halt it. Luckily, the Gene was passed down to his decedents. Including one who ran from Miranda's cruelty by taking refuge in the states. And now we're here!

Code Veronica:

Skipping over some important bits here, but what you need to know is that in 1987 Elias was caught by Umbrellas "misappropriating" company assets (stealing samples of progenitor and T.) Wesker helped him fake his own death to get away from Umbrella so they wouldn't kill him. Elias perceived this as Albert saving his life, and as such triggered the Loyalty Neuron. Cool? Cool!

*Note, I know the picture says he faked his death in 1992, I need to update his reference sheet

Elias's first appearance! At this point he had spent just over 10 years forcefully separated from Wesker, and is genuinely still processing the relief of being near him again. Elias had always been prone to...obsessive, tendencies, and the Loyalty Neuron (henceforth referred to as LN) makes everything so much worse and more intense as we will soon see. He's giddy, and spends most of the gaming coming off as a psychotic asshole. spends even MORE of the game bullying Chris and trying to make his life hell out of spite and jealousy. I mean, the man Elias has unwittingly dedicated his entire soul and being too won't shut up about this guy, can you blame him for being petty?

Also, shoots Grant in the chest, so, ya know dad of the year really

Resident Evil 4:

It's at this point Elias really starts coming into his own, developing a sick fascination with Las Plagas and happily dedicating any free time he has into researching it for Wesker. He also adopts two lab rats that he got attached too purely because humans will pack bond with anything, so really he's thriving.

He's both incredibly shocked and not at all surprised to see Grant with this Leon guy in Spain. He's a man who despite his faith in science also believes in fate and destiny, the universal narrative and all that jazz. Of course he'd come across his magnum opus and his first, greatest mistake now: while he was teetering on the precipice of something big.

Thing is, he fucking hates Saddler. He sees him as annoying, childish, and too idiotic to think beyond his on myopic desires. So, whenever he's sure that it's not going to interfere with Albert's ultimate goal of getting the amber, he's not above pulling the strings behind the scene to make sure that asshole gets put right back in his place in hell.

also to make sure that Grant gets cured of Las Plagas, but he won't admit it and will physically fight you if you try to call him out on it

Resident Evil 5:

Okay, so Elias is in bad shape here. Post Lost in Nightmares, Wesker discovered both Elias's and Spencer's research on the LN. Once he realizes just how deep Elias's loyalty and admiration go for him, Wesker takes full advantage of this new found power dynamic.

Not that Elias is complaining. Once Wesker starts to spiral in to mania, Elias isn't far behind. Suddenly, ever word out of Wesker's mouth is gospel, and Elias full intends to see his vision of a new world all the way through- even if Uroboros consumes him in the end.

He's fully aware of what's happening and what they're doing, and some small part of him begs him to stop. To figure out how to walk away. Sometimes, late at night he'll let that voice ring in his ears, but never more for a few moments before he remembers that that part of him is stupid and should die. He's in it for the long haul with Wesker, and as long as Wesker keeps saying all the right things to him he will gladly keep being his dog.

This also just so happens to be the first game where he tries to kill Grant for real for real, no shooting him where he knows Grant's wearing kevlar, the kid gloves are OFF. Why? Well, because his Weskee asked him too ofc.

Yeah, you're never gonna guess how he reacted to the end of the game.

Resident Evil 6:

TW: SUICIDE IDEATIONS

The answer was "Not Well."

With his attached gone the LN has basically set Elias into self destruct mode. In fact, the only reason he hasn't is because one of the final orders Wesker ever gave him was for him to live. So here he is.

Though, he wouldn't exactly call this living.

He finds out via Ada of all people that some asshole has stolen his entire life's work, as well as the life's work of his soulmate, to use for sex pest shit of all things, and SUDDENLY he has a reason to live again, albeit temporary.

Knowing he can't take this one on his own, he manages to contact Grant (who was in the middle of his own crisis thanks to Chris fucking wondering off this plane of existence) letting him know that he has insider knowledge on the C-Virus and can help him get revenge for his fallen teammates as long as Grant helps him kill Simmons first.

Oh, and also "I'll finally tell you why you're so fucking weird. No, it's not progenitor...that's probably not helping though. Yeah...yeah, my bad."

He gets his mini redemption arch here, actually fighting with the good guys for once and finally fully in control of his own actions for what feels like the first time in well...ever.

He's still not sure where Wesker ends and he begins though.

He finally explains their entire family history, giving them the tip on Miranda and permanently altering Chris and Grant's relationship in irreparable ways. The BSAA deems him a valuable asset that "wasn't working under his own volition" and decided to keep him around for their own use.

Grant shoots him in the head anyways. Don't worry, it's a mercy killing. It's what Elias would have wanted 💖💖💖

#resident evil #albert wesker #resident evil oc #wesker x oc #oc x canon #Elias McBride #Bridesker #oc info #tw: sucidal thoughts

10 notes · View notes