Archive of Our Own

Albert Wesker, you knew him as your captain, friend-- he was someone you trusted your life with. He guided his team through countless missions while you remained in the background as a sort of communication; you were your team's lifeline as well. Granting them information about their objectives, enemy positions, and any changes to plans as a comms operator. It was stressful, yes, but with high risk came high reward, and you worked well under pressure, however pressing it may be. A diamond in the rough, some could say. You'd been in the military, Delta Force. You'd reached a high enough rank that allowed you certain insight into military actions until your term of service was over, but just as you were leaving, you had caught the eye of a certain US Army engineering officer who'd heard of your prowess. You spoke with him briefly back then, and it seemed instantly that there was a connection. 

It was a sunny day, and the bright sun shone down on you as you walked through the military base. You'd been assigned to the Pentagon, a new position for someone supposedly leaving. It seems you were valued just enough, maybe they wanted you to stay? As you walked and entered the large building, passing by the security gates and being inspected, you found your commander talking to a rather new face. It wasn't strange for you to see faces you hadn't recognized, it'd only been a week since your new station. Though this one in particular-- shades, slicked back blonde hair, and a military uniform, though slightly altered. It seemed he was an... engineering officer. Your curiosity piqued, you headed towards the group and saluted your commander in a higher rank.

"At ease, soldier." The man you faced spoke, Commander Schwarz, an older brunette with scars that littered his cheekbones.

You settled into a more relaxed position and nodded your head, looking towards the blonde. Now that you were closer, you could see through his shades slightly. Piercing blue eyes that seemed to strike deep into your core, as he stared down. Judging you, reading you. Your eyes sharpened. This man was no ordinary officer. There was something you could feel in the air, a shift so slight anyone else could've missed it. No, not you, the one so attuned to these details that if there was a hitch in one's breath, you would notice immediately. It happened in a moment so small, it felt as if a small shock of lightning flickered between you and him. It felt like time slowed just for a brief period, before he smiled and resumed motion, greeting you in a deep and caramel-like voice.

"Soldier." One word, simple, small, and direct.

You smiled back, a small expression which braced your face, "Officer." 

He seemed to relax slightly, the muscles in his face less apparent as he fully turned towards you and the sun took in his appearance through the open windows, "It's nice to meet you, my name is Albert Wesker." He stuck out his hand, to which you immediately took.

You held a hard grip just as he did, "The name's (y/n) (l/n)," You both pulled back at the same time, your eyes shifted down his chest briefly and traveled back across his neck and crawled up his face to try and meet his eyes through his sunglasses, "It's nice to meet you as well."

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts from your head. That was your first meeting with Wesker, the summer of 1991. You only remained in that defensive post for a month more before being discharged as your term of service ended. You did your time, and even if there was now someone who snatched your interest, you were committed to rest. It was now June 1998, and that notion seemed to have changed with you having joined the Special Tactics and Rescue Services established in the Raccoon City Police Department in 1996. Invited by a certain someone in particular, you thought maybe it was time for a change of plans. After all, you were never one to rest easy. Your last two years spent in the unit were ones you could never regret. You made friends with many of your team members, as well as ones from the Bravo unit you were not a part of. After all, you were all one big group in the end, despite being in separate squads. It made sense to meet outside of break time with others to form bonds on relationships. 

Especially, your relationship with Wesker. It grew tremendously. It seemed like in the five years you hadn't seen the man, he had changed. Became more mature, more... manly. It was something you expected, though, from your first encounter with him; you always took him to be a different breed of human. You were fond of him, and it seemed as if he was as fond of you as well.

"(Y/n)." A voice shook you, pulling you from reflection.

You turned quickly, nearly jabbing the man in the chest as you huffed, "Chris!" You chuckled, "Scared me." 

He tilted his head and put a hand to his neck, "Sorry about that, but our briefing is about to start. I didn't know if you were just stuck in thought or... uhm, I don't know." 

You shook your head and brushed your hair behind your ear, "Yeah, I was stuck in thought, thank you..." You trailed off, beginning to stand from your desk.

He shook his head as if in mock disapproval, earning a punch from you. Both of you headed towards the meeting room, encountering some other team members on the way, joining your little group in conversation before finally meeting the door that held the rest of the party. Chris pushed in first, headstrong like always, while you followed close behind. Inside, you found a seat between Jill Valentine and Joseph Frost, two other capable individuals you were close with. Sharing your greetings, you turned your attention to the man standing in front with a projector behind-- Wesker, who already seemed to be looking your way. While you couldn't exactly tell because of the sunglasses he wore, a trait not lost to time, the hairs on your neck said otherwise. His stature was rigged; there seemed to be a tough choice he had to make. Something's going on in that mind of his. You made a note to try and talk to him later about why he appeared so rough, even if to others his appearance was ever the same. You could tell, you always were able to tell.

"Now that everyone's here," Wesker's voice spilled into the air, a satisfying sound to your ears, "Let's begin." 

With everyone's attention on him, he tears his gaze away from your eyes and turns towards others in the room as he talks, making smaller hand gestures to accentuate his words as the projector behind him swaps from picture to picture. Throughout this, your focus is divided, both on the man himself and the terrible information he is sharing about your team's counterpart-- the Bravo team has been cut from all communication in their last mission in the forest area around Raccoon City, and have not been heard from since their last message. They were in the middle of a mission, and seemingly, they all had vanished. 

You raised a hand, "Absolutely zero contact, sir?" You asked, a sick feeling at your fingertips. 

"None," Wesker responded, as your hand slowly set itself on the table in front of you.

You bit your lip, this was not your forte. If there's no communication, there's no use for you. There may be something blocking information coming inside and out, a frequency disruption. This was troublesome; you were unaware of the role you would play, and it was deeply unsettling what happened to your comrades, your friends. Everyone else seemed to acknowledge this as well, a more serious tone filtering through the air. 

"We will set out for reconnaissance in a day, I'll share the details of this mission before we leave. This is of... urgent matter."  Wesker seemed to hesitate, and this was not lost on you.

With a couple more words, the meeting adjourned, and you were left sitting alone in thought after telling the others you were okay when you were so clearly not. You stared at the wooden surface in front of you, looking up when a shadow found itself hovering over you and meeting with Wesker's chest. You quickly snapped attention to his face as he stood across from you, separated by the table. He pulled a seat out and sat slowly, the chair creaking softly underneath his weight as he relaxed and crossed his legs, resting his hands on his lap. You leaned forward and put your arms on the table, looking up at the man who was still taller than you even whilst sitting. 

"What's wrong?" He spoke first.

"I... what am I going to be doing?" You asked in a small voice, as you put your head to the table between your arms.

Wesker let out a small sigh, and you heard him shuffle before placing an object beside you. You turned your head slightly and found his shades sitting on the table, and you were able to see your reflection through them. He waited a moment before he spoke again.

"Honestly..." He started, in an equally small voice, "I don't want you on the mission."

With these words, your heart jumped slightly at the admission. You picked your head up and looked and found his eyes were empty, as he went through his thoughts, "But, those are my comrades, my friends...!" You began to protest, but he rapidly cut you off.

"(Y/n)," He stared directly into your eyes, a simmering emotion you couldn't name swirling in his irises, "I didn't say you wouldn't be on the mission." His tongue presses against the inside of his teeth, and he takes a deep breath before continuing, "The choice is yours." 

Your eyebrows crease together, and you look away from him as you're hit with the decision. You could go; it's not like you were lacking in combat skills. You were a scout in nature, it was a secondary kit to your overall use.

You put a hand to your face as you bit your lip, before looking back at Wesker and nodding, "I'm going." 

He lets a moment slide by before he chuckles softly, "Alright, (y/n), alright." 

You smile, standing from your chair slowly, "By the way... um... are you okay, Wesker?"

He tilts his head as he now looks up at you, a strand of blonde hair falling over his forehead, "I am," He replies and adds, "You should get going, I'll see you tomorrow." 

You accept his answer, and he'll tell you in due time. Nodding, you walk out of the room and heed his words, resting for the mission ahead. As you leave, Wesker stares at your retreating figure, an absence of emotion ever-present as a cruel smile graces his face.

"I knew you wouldn't say no." He mutters. 

A day passes by, and you're above RPD, specifically on the rooftop, as a helicopter is being prepared for flight behind Wesker. He lays out the plan as you stand between Chris and Jill in gear, Brad Vickers already in the helicopter as the pilot for today's mission. Wesker's clothing is being swayed by the wind behind him, and the night sky suits his features. You shake your head, thoughts floating to other things; It's strange, being with the team instead of watching through the cameras. Though it is a change, you welcome it if it means you're able to help them recover, Bravo team. To you, it didn't make sense to stay behind while the others were doing all they could. As Wesker finished giving his words, he turned directly towards you and then away, ushering everyone inside the aviation. You took it as a sign to stay behind the rest, and as you were the last to enter, Wesker followed behind and sat beside you. Your knees touched his and the other person to your side, and you slightly leaned towards Wesker. He shifted, allowing this, and held onto one of the handles above to keep steady as there was slight turbulence. You knew he'd protect you if anything happened; he always has.  

Maybe thirty or forty minutes passed by before you heard Jill exclaim, "Look, Chris!"

Your head shot up from the floor, and you looked through the open air and out at the ground, spotting exactly what she was talking about. The breath in your throat slightly hitched as you looked at Wesker, who held a grim expression on his face. He quickly told Brad to land us near the location and stand by.

Exiting and heading towards the fallen helicopter, you were with Jospeh as you scoped the area, entering into the helicopter, "Shit." He said, aiming his flashlight and gun around as he examined the area.

You did the same, eyes darting back and forth, before hearing Joseph trip and fall to the ground in surprise, "What's wrong..?" You ask as you quickly rush to his side, before spotting what he was staring at and pausing briefly, your eyes widening as you regain your nerves and pull him to his feet, backing away from the body.

"Found Kevin, he-- he's... dead," Joseph said into the mic with a stutter, which you heard in your ear.

You pull him out of the helicopter and shake him from his state, raising your gun again with a slight tremor to your hand, "... Proceed." You heard Wesker reply.

You both continued on your way behind the team, Kevin's lifeless and mangled body replaying in your mind. You squint your eyes, focusing on what you have to do and wiping the image from your mind, and pressing forward, leaves crunching under your feet. Joseph was behind you, his breathing erratic as he walked. You kept looking around, eyes widening as you heard a growl emit from the surrounding trees. What was that? A dog? A wolf? You both put your backs to each other, Richard Aiken was nearby as well, and he also turned to try to identify the sound. You both began to walk separately from each other in the opposing direction to cover more ground, and you refused to relax.

"Fuck," The man behind you started, getting your attention as you turned towards him slowly, "What was that--" Interrupted as a dog pounces forward with inhumane speed and latches its teeth onto his face, you stare with wide eyes before you quickly raise your gun and aim towards the animal and your friend. 

You spot Richard raise his, too, and you yell, "Wait, we can't get a clear shot!" 

Richard glances at you and back towards the fray, "Fuck!" He exclaims, both of you backing away, "Fuck...!"

You’re only able to stare with wide eyes as horror fills your mind, watching as Joseph slowly is consumed by the animal, gnawing deeply into his chest. He cries out in pain, and shots from the man’s pistol fly awry, forcing you and Richard to back up further to avoid getting hit. You raise your gun, tears pricking at your eyes as your finger slowly pulls down on the trigger. End his suffering, do him a favor. Richard and you are close together now, and he does it for you after noticing your hesitance. He takes the life of his friend and yours, and the dog sat upon his face. Not of murderous intent but selfless intentions. He takes the guilt you would’ve lived if you were courageous enough to pull the trigger. This happens in a flash, and several more dogs jump from the trees and meet their dead companion. Sniffing its body, and turning towards you. It feels like you can see into their dead eyes— see that they, yes, were nothing but beasts. Beasts without a kindle of life left within their flesh. 

”Oh my god.” You whisper with a shaky voice, and Richard takes your wrist.

You both book it, turning and running as he drags you along. You feel like crying, but the wind flowing through your hair reminds you you’re alive. God, what were those things..? The pack of wild animals behind you quickly catches up, taking to the sides. You’re surrounded. Richard is tackled to the ground from in front of you, which nearly makes you trip, but you quickly jump over him and turn as the pack bounds atop the man who was just pulling you to run. You hear Jill run to a stop behind you and look back at her.

You raise your hand as you notice a dog to the side of her, a scream erupting from your throat, “Jill!” You exclaim, running towards her and tackling her just as a dog leaps at where she had stood.

She’s silent and not staring at you once you pull yourself off of her; she’s staring at the man screaming in agony still. She’s frozen in shock, mouth agape. You breathe heavily, taking the gun from your side and aiming towards Richard and the pack— shoot, shoot now. Do the man a favor as he did. Pay it forward. You cry as you shoot, hitting Richard square in the forehead as his cries cease. He went through maybe a minute of excruciating pain, from being tackled and mauled, to you pushing Jill to the ground to safety. It was a minute too long. You also shoot the dog that would’ve latched onto Jill, feet moving backwards, and tugging on her shirt.

”Come on!” You scream, snapping her out of her thoughts as she scrambles to her feet. 

The chase resumes, and you both are running from the herd now. You hear Chris from another clearing in the forest. He’s not as loud as the sound hammering in your ears, your heart pumping as fast as it can. Adrenaline is coursing through your body. Jill is a little behind you, and you pull your pace, pushing her forward. The dogs are closing in, again, this time from behind. They don’t stray to the sides to tackle the strong one from the front, no, they know you’re both weak. You turn your head, it feels like it happens in slow motion— the dog leaps into space and you can see its teeth as its jaw opens and it aims for you. It’s in the air, inhumane agility making it already so close. God, is this it? You think you’re done for, and you brace yourself as you raise your arm to try and at least protect yourself, hoping for it to tear away at your limb instead of tearing your face off of your head—

Bang! Bang!

Your head snaps towards the shots as the dog falls to the ground, losing momentum. It lands in front of you, but you’re staring at something else, Wesker, along with Chris and Barry beside him. Relief washes over you.

”(Y/n) this way!” He exclaims, gun still extended and shooting the dogs, the two men beside him doing the same thing.

You and Jill quickly run and combine with their group, and a helicopter flies over. That bastard.

Chris exclaims, “Where the hell is Brad going?!”

You’re panting heavily, and ahead you see a mansion in front of you. Wesker yells for everyone to head to the mansion, and you push yourself as hard as you can, stumbling through the doors as the man pushes them closed and holding the entrance shut with a convenient wooden plank found off to the side. You put your hands to your knees, sweat dripping from your forehead, panting heavily. Your chest feels lit aflame, and you look up. Chris, Jill, Barry, Wesker, and you were the last few remaining. Stuck in this place, somewhere deep within Raccoon City's forest. No one would be coming, they'd assume everything was okay. At least a week before reinforcements, if everything goes well. You pick yourself up, placing your hands on your hips after having wiped the tears from your eyes. Be stronger, be stronger. You force yourself to stop shaking, but it doesn't ease the tremors already taking root within your mind. Wesker is nearest to the door, and you glance towards him. You can't tell what he's thinking, you're too overstimulated and exhausted. Your mind is filled with the horrific images of three of your friends to fret about anything other than ensuring you five are here, now. 

A comforting hand is placed on your back, and you turn your head slowly and offer a smile, "Thank you, Jill." You say with a choke, leaning into her. 

She holds you close, "Of course (Y/n)." 

There's a moment to recollect all of your thoughts, before Barry spoke up, "What is this place?" His questioning tone snaps you to attention, and you begin looking around as well while Jill and you remain close.

"Not quite your ordinary house, that's for sure," Wesker states as he takes a few steps forward in his usual, dry tone.

"Hey, Wesker..." Chris says, "What do we do now?"

Wesker stays silent for a moment as if processing his plans before replying, "Let's do some scouting." He turns towards Jill, "Jill, you and Barry should go look around that way... I'll go with Chris upstairs." 

Everyone nods, and you can't help but feel left out, like a bag of skipping stones, you're the rock that'd sink no matter what. You have a confused look on your face, and as if Wesker reads your mind, he shakes his head and walks to you. Jill steps back after giving you a comforting squeeze to your shoulder, allowing him to talk to you, and walks towards Chris and the older man to converse with them. 

"I need you to rest, (Y/n)." He looks down at you, moving his head slightly and examining the state you're in, "You're really in no condition to..." 

You cut him off, "So you're just going to leave me to do nothing?" 

He sighs, lowering his voice so that the others wouldn't hear, "I gave you the choice to come, but it is not in my intentions to allow you to get hurt." He puts a hand on your wrist, holding it tightly, "You will stay here and recover." 

You flinch at his grip, and he slightly loosens it in reaction, pulling his hand away from you, "... okay." You reply, looking down and away from him, eyes glued to your shoes.

You don't see the smirk on his face when he replies in an even lower tone, muttering, "Good." 

It's only a brief amount of time before each group is off on their own, and you're left in the front-most part of the mansion by yourself. The wind outside doesn't help the vibes that the mansion gives you, creaking floorboards both above and what sounds like below not aiding the growing goosebumps on your skin. You hold the black STARS jacket you're wearing tighter to your skin in hopes of conserving your warmth and settle in the corner of a room by a statue, growing fatigue creeping into your bones as you sit and press your back against the wall. You didn't realize how much of a toll the earlier events took on you, but now that you finally had time to think about it wasn't a shocker that you were crying. You quit the military because of this, and weren't involved in infantry because that's just not what you were cut out for. Not to simply rest, no, of course it was just an excuse, you were restless instead, which is probably why you jumped at the offer of joining the team at RPD. Now that you thought about it, there was no need for you at all. You were just there. Apart of the team, but you couldn't have been less capable. Just like earlier, you didn't have the courage and sacrifice necessary to save others. 

Your heart grows heavy because of these thoughts, the air tightening around you as you bite it down, nearly chewing your lip off. Useless, utterly useless. Thoughts of self-hatred cloud your mind, but the fogginess overpowers whatever emotions you do have as you succumb to the burden that the adrenaline you exhausted takes on you. This is all you can do, Wesker was right. Recover, and be better. Be better. 

A dry laugh escapes your throat as the light in the mansion flickers above you. Ironically, the weakest one wants to become strong. Your eyes move and keep observant, and you keep listening, but no matter. The darkness takes what it will and floods your vision. You could only feel guilty that you're resting while the four others are out and about, facing whatever is out there. The guilt is heavy, and it too presses upon your chest as the darkness does. 

What wakes you is the sound of light footsteps flickering across the tiles, nearing your figure. You're groggy, but you rub your eyes in an attempt to ward off the feeling and look up as a pair of boots makes way to stop in front of you. Wesker stares down at you, his hair slightly tussled and glasses offset by maybe an inch instead of pressed straight back on his face. It makes his eyes visible as he bends down and crouches, meeting your stare.

"Wesker..." You say, your voice slightly cracking, "Find anything?"

His facial expression seems to soften, and he replies, "Chris has, yes."

"Ah, where's he?" You sit up, leaning forward.

Wesker comes closer slowly and you both are a head apart, yet before you could react, his hands release from behind his back and he jabs something in your neck and your mouth falls agape, but no sound comes out, just a gasp as your hands fly to his and whatever he'd stuck in your skin. You could feel his thumb press the plunger of a syringe, meaning he had injected you with something. Which was, as you knew it, paralytic. You could only watch his face with frozen, wide eyes.  

"You'll see." He whispers, making the hairs on your skin stand tall, as you lose the feeling in your arms first. 

Your hands slide off of his, and he keeps his hand on your neck, grabbing you as you fall into his chest. You're still there, just more drowsy, drugged. It's fast acting, too. You can't think, can't move, but you can feel as the syringe drops from your neck and drops to the ground. Clack. You could feel the weight of it as if it were your own body, and you don't like this. You don't feel yourself. Your breathing goes heavy, heart pumps slower and slower. Dots fill your vision, and you can feel the weight of betrayal somewhere in your chest as well. Everything, intensified. Tears fall from your eyes, and Wesker shushes you, holding you closer. His voice is lost on you; whatever he's saying, you can't process it.

He knows this, though, and he revels.

"I've kept an eye on you for such a long time." His grip on your body tightens even more, and he slowly pulls you to a standing position from the floor. 

Your body is pressed against his own, and it's so... warm. Your body needs it and wants it, and you're in no position to prevent it from getting what it wants. Your mind was slush, and your head lolls into the crook of Wesker's neck. You groan, his scent enveloping the air around you. It feels like you're suffocating. The noise you make causes Wesker to shiver, as he moves his arms down, holding one just below your neck and above your back as his knees bend for a moment before picking up your legs, so that he's carrying you in a bridal-like position. Though this was far from such pleasantry. He adjusts you and looks down at your body before moving. Your head lolls back and forth, but settles on his arm as a makeshift cushion. As if you had any say in how your body moves now, though.

He takes you through a series of twists and turns you wouldn't be able to remember even if you were sober, before settling in a dimmed and empty room. He places you on a soft mattress, creaking slightly under your weight, and turns to leave. He takes one last glance before stepping through the door, leaving you to wake on your own.

You don't know how long it has been, but when you wake for the second time, you're in an unfamiliar place, yet this entire mansion is one you don't recognize anyways. Your head has a nasty ache, and you wake up feeling worse than any hangover could have ever gotten you, extremely sluggish and confused. Your head feels like it's spinning, and you can't lift yourself. There's a slight shuffling before the door to the room opens, and you turn slightly before spotting the blonde man enter. 

"(Y/n)." He says, standing over you, bringing a hand to your face and caressing your cheek.

You don't even have the energy to push him away, as you stare with half-lidded eyes, "What're you... up to..." Is all you can muster, barely even a sentence.

"Darling," There's a smirk on his lips as he plays with a strand of your hair, "Plans you could never even fathom."

You know that what he's saying is the truth. You don't even question it anymore, you thought you knew him. You thought you could tell. Whatever you thought then, his actions now confirm that maybe, you never even knew him at all. But, maybe... maybe you do know.

Perhaps, it was then. 

"Listen, William. For the last time, do not call this damned number." You stood just outside Wesker's office, the only one left and waiting to give him your reports, but it seemed like he was in a heated conversation.

You could hear slamming from inside the room, and you don't even flinch.

"Christ's sake, we are prolonging this. I need more time." 

There's a yelling coming from the other line, and you're surprised you can hear it from standing outside his door, but then again, this William was loud and angry as well: "Umbrella isn't going to wait any further for results, Albert!" The man on the other end exclaims, before it seems like the line cuts dead. 

There's a feeling in your chest, a bubbling acknowledgement. 

Yet you paid no mind to it.

You ignored it.

It's as if it never even happened that you knocked on Wesker's door.

When he answers, he stares down at you, hair affray and slightly huffing-- a sign of irritation. Though when he looks at you, he seems to calm down, and even further as he looks at the papers in your hand, then back to your face. He knows. He knows you heard.

He also ignores it, too, as he runs a hand through his hair and allows you in.

"Umbrella..." You're able to say, and Wesker lets out only the slightest laugh.

He leans forward, towering above you, "Yes, dear." He's only inches away. 

You feel a mix of emotions, and there are so many. Slight tears form in your eyes, and he lets the strand of hair he's playing with fall from your hands as it travels to your neck and holds your face, "Shhh." He hushes you, "It's okay."

You sniffle, "You're awful." 

He smiles, "I know." 

You choke out a sob, "Why me?"

He brings his lips and brushes them against your own, traversing to your ear, "Why not?" He whispers, rhetorically, "You don't know how much I've held myself back for you, (Y/n)."

Tears fall your cheeks as you stare into those eyes of his, those eyes that you knew the day you first saw them, that he wasn't normal. Those eyes, that you would've followed anywhere. Those damned eyes. 

"They just died... like.. n'thing." You croak.

"All necessary components," Wesker's voice grew colder, taking the tone of a man you don't know.

You wanted to shrink back, but before you could move, his hand moved from your neck to your cheeks and kept your head in place as he pressed into them, only slightly hurting you. He stared at you, both in warmth and cold, and you didn't know exactly how he felt at all anymore. 

"So all these... years... d'they mean jack to you?" You can barely talk; whatever he had drugged you with is still in your system. 

He shakes his head slightly, "No, no, of course not." He lightens his grip on your face, "They meant something, you meant something." 

You shake slightly, "Wesker, please." You cry, the feeling in your chest being too much.

He lets go of your cheeks, turning his head away from you, "Why else would I have invited someone as weak as you to the team, (Y/n)?" 

At this, you can't help but cry harder, you're so confused. You don't know what to think anymore. These last few years you've spent with Wesker fracture in seconds, but everything just makes so much sense, least favorably. You don't want to doubt the man in front of you, the man you trusted with everything. The man you followed because you knew he was reliable, that he was different. He is. You've seen him. He's different from any other man. All the nights you spent with him, working on papers. Sparring. Training. Talking. 

"What d'you mean, weak?" You ask, voice breaking. 

"All these years, (Y/n), you've had it so easy because of me." He replies and looks back at you, a glint in his eyes, "I've always been there to protect you." 

Your mind is in such a mess that you don't even deny his statement. You can only come to one conclusion: that he's right. You prided yourself on working well under stress, but even those who guide others need a guide themselves, and he's always been there to fill that position that once was vacant. Telling you, guiding you, being there for you. These recent events only solidified that-- he knew, he planned this happening. He's a bad person, and you can't help but trust him because he has been the one constant, trustworthy, and capable man in your life. One that none other had been able to fill. Maybe it's the drug, maybe it's you, maybe it's the fact that you've always wanted him since the day you met.

Wesker watches as you fall apart, as you go through the motions to accept his perfectly engineered plan. He'd done it all, of course. Made him the only man in your life. He is watching you fall apart, and the fact that it's because of him makes it all the more enjoyable. He has pushed you so far, led you to STARS. When he met you that one day in the Pentagon, he already knew that he had to have you. You were so intelligent, so detailed, and you don't even know it anymore. Just because he downplayed and hid your intelligence behind his own, he was able to take advantage of your poor mental state and instability once you had resigned from the forces. Twist your decisions so that you'd make this choice now, that has you writhing in this cot below him. 

He gives you the final push, or rather, he'll take the last move as his own now. 

You look up to him as he speaks, "You owe it to me." 

Your eyes widen slightly at his statement, and you breathe harder. He brings his hand to your face carefully, and before you could speak, he leans forward and embraces you in a warm kiss. He's warm again. Warm. Wesker's other arm lands beside you so that it acts as a pillar to keep his body up. You don't have a chance to react to his next move because he bites your lip and makes you whine, his hand dropping from your face and to your waist simultaneously. He's halfway on the bed and forces a knee between your crotch, making you groan slightly. He pulls back from the kiss and looks at you, waiting for you to say something. Say anything.

There's saliva slightly dripping from your mouth, and all you can look at are his lips. Your mind was hazy, tired, sluggish. This takes away from the images of your friends haunting your mind, away from the past that plagues you. You've already abandoned all sense of self-worth once you hadn't investigated Wesker when you gained suspicion, anyway. He's the only man, the only man who could protect you so. Is this another form of his protection? Is this necessary?

He doesn't give you time to think more, hands crawling under your jacket and to your chest. You feel a heat pool in your stomach and flush across your face, as he leans into a kiss again and rubs against your flesh, fingers put to a slight pinch against your nipples. You moan into his kiss, unable to control yourself. 

Wesker needs this, he needs you. Why else would he go to such effort just to have you be faithfully his? Construct a plan with the only variable being you, it was because he didn’t really mind if it was you to be his undoing. You didn’t need to know this fact, however. Yet you played into his hand, just like how he had predicted.

His hands glide across your chest, and he breaks from the kiss, moving his hands from under your jacket and shirt, sliding the zipper down with his teeth. You could only watch, energy and strength still lacking and dried tears across your cheeks. You watch as he guides your body and takes off your jacket, giving him some support as you raise your arms as much as you could when he takes off your shirt. If this is what he wants, how could you say no to a man who has protected you in such earnest? He lifts your back slightly, fidgeting with the clasps of your bra before successfully taking it off, gently throwing it to the side. He shows such care for you, in this harsh environment, that you’re welcoming to everything he does. It makes your body tingle, makes you feel good. 

“I’ve always longed to have you under me.” Wesker admits, as he presses his head against your neck, inhaling your scent.

You slightly moan again, as he presses his lips to your skin, sucking lightly. He repeats this motion along your body and some hurt more than others but God it feels so good, his hand moving against your chest and playing with your nipple, sending a sharp sensation through your veins. He sit back and takes in your body, raking in your appreance, his peppered kisses forming dark bruises in places. He moves off the bed, moves you so that your legs are hanging off. He quickly positions himself against your crotch, his bulge very apparent and shown through his pants.

Wesker ruts against you, “I need you.” His voice deepens, and he’s not begging whatsoever— he lets you know what he wants, and he will take it.

A shudder runs through your body as he quickly makes do of your pants, putting it off to the side where your other clothing were. He brought his hand to your crotch, rubbing against it and making your body chase after the feeling.

He says with a exhale, “Seems like you need me just as much.”

You’re unable to respond, your entire body is screaming for pleasure. You don’t know if it’s really you, or something else causing you to act this way. You don’t think, just do, as Wesker slips your panties to your ankles. He unzips his own pants, maneuvering his manhood from his boxers and holding it in his hand. You stare down, eyes slightly widening, he’s big and it causes you to worry slightly. Yet, this lust for him is bigger then any other thought you could have at the moment.

He smiles at you, leaning forward and pressing his body against yours, arms trapping your head and whispering in your ear, “You’re so beautiful.” 

At his words you regain some semblance of consciousness, flushing against his compliment, “W-Wesk…” 

He cuts you off, “Albert. I don’t know why you always referred to me in my last name, (Y/n).” He chuckles lightly, kissing your cheek, “I always adored my name on your lips.”

You look at him with a shy smile, “Albert,” You correct, “… I want… t’see you.”

He pauses, before grinning, “Of course, dear.” He comes to a stand and begins to take off his vest, throwing it beside the bed, unbuttoning his shirt immediately after. His muscles poke out from underneath the attire, and you wanted to feel his flesh against yours. He discards it immediately and resumes his position against yours, his pants were down to his own knees. Your body against his, it felt so domestic you could forget just where you were. Even if he were to, maybe, leave you afterwards. You don’t think you could ever hold a grudge against this God of a man. 

He bites down against your chest, sucking one of your nipples and speaking in between breaths, “Stop… thinking.” Wesker whispers, before looking up at you and bringing his lips against your own, smashing himself to you.

He bites your lips, and without warning you feel his hand move towards his cock, guiding himself to your entrance. You try to move your hands but you’re trapped underneath his weight. He presses into you, and you open your mouth, as he slowly fills you. You make a tiny squeek and he hushes you, you know this pain would only last a moment.

”It’s okay,” Wesker reassures you, “It’s just going to take a second.”

You’re left inhaling and exhaling quickly as he fully presses inside of you, back arched against his and hands gripping the mattress. Your legs are shaking. He picks himself up and moves your legs so that your feet are over his shoulders, folding you. Propping himself halfway on the bed he finds your hands in his, and you could only stare into his eyes. His glasses were about to fall, but yet they still stuck to his face. It doesn’t matter, you were able to see his eyes. 

He slowly begins to move, groaning against you as you do the same.

”A—aah,” You let out, tears forming, “Nng, hurt-hurts…” 

Wesker licks his lips and gulps, panting, “Dear heart, relax.”

He leans over you and continues at his pace, and he was right. When was he ever wrong? Your eyes roll up as indescribable pleasure fills up into your abdomen, and floods your body. He smiles as he reduces you to a moaning, pleasurable mess, quickening his pace.

”A-Albert, mmh, you feel… nngh, it’s so good.” 

He chuckles as you moan, leaning forward and planting a kiss on your forehead. He seems to strike the innermost parts inside you, hammering himself in as if to prove a point. He’s the only one that can make you feel this way, he’s the only one.

He groans your name, and with each pound into your body a shock of pleasure strings itself up your spine. He comes down to a slow pace, before pulling himself out of you and stroking his dick himself. He guides you with his free hand to where he wants you, removing your legs from over your shoulders and turning you around, your body lying limply against the bed as you yearn for more. Your feet touch the floor of the room, but the entirety of your weight is on the bed.

”Albert..” You say, breathing hard as he presses you against the mattress, putting his hands to your hips.

“I know.” Is all he says, before he fills you again, pulling your hips to his and moving you back and forth, hitting deeper and harder. 

He fills you with such intensity you’re moaning out his name, you can’t even think, just, “Hgg, A-Albert, r-right there..!” 

He presses his chest to your back, lips to your ear, “Right there?” He pounds into you, and you arch your back, “Hg, there, dear?” Every time he talks he pushes himself into you, thrusting, “Does that make you feel good?”

”Yes… mmh…” You don’t give it a second thought as you reply, it seems like the drug in your system is wearing off, giving you more control.

It doesn’t matter.

Wesker nibbles on your ear, his hot breath down your back. With his hands he traps you again underneath him, your face pressed into the bed. You’re drooling, and you’re quickly coming to your climax.

He pushes further as if sensing this, groaning into your ear, “You’re…” It’s on the tip of his tongue, as he quickens and slams into you, not holding back, “You’re so beautiful.” 

You feel heat pool itself in your belly, coming undone but he’s not finished yet. He pushes you to your limit, overstimulating you as he bites down on your shoulder next, causing you to cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. At this, his own body shakes above you before you feel him pull out, a hot liquid dripping from your thighs. He’s heaving above you, and he recovers quicker. 

He comes to a stand and leaves you on the bed, shaking. Hearing a shuffling behind you, it seems like he’s putting on his clothes. Is he going to leave you alone, like this? After what he’s done? You’re too exhausted to protest his actions. A couple of minutes pass by before you hear a creaking on the bed, a hand pulling you up and turning you so that you’re faced away from the wall you were partly staring at, and you follow his actions, sitting up. He has your clothes in his hand, and he carefully guides your body when putting on your shirt and adjusting your jacket. You look into his eyes, and there’s a fondness you couldnt mistake.

You follow his movements as he stands in front of you from the bed, bending over with your pants in his hand. He grabs your feet and places it in the cloth, bringing both your panties and pants up to your knees, and then looking up at you. 

There’s a slight smile on your face, and he returns it as you place a foot on the floor, standing as well. He’s able to fully pull up your clothing to your waist now, and you place a hand on his hair as he zips up your pants. He pushes up your shirt slightly as he comes up, placing a kiss to your stomach, then straightening his back as he meets you face-to-face. You let out a slight laugh, your hand falling from his hair to his face, holding him as you press your nose against his. He closes his eyes, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

”I’ve always wanted to show you what I can do.” He teases.

Albert Wesker knows he has you in his hands, now. He also knows that he’s in yours, despite if you acknowledge it or not. You’re the only one he’ll ever allow to see him in this light; All his softness, reserved for just one person. Just you.

After seven long years since your first meeting, and he finally, truly has you. He won’t let you leave now, not ever. He was sure you would have stayed even if you’d known him for a month at the Pentagon, but no, you didn’t. Slipped just out of his fingers. Yet this time, you’re caught— trapped, in this web he’d spun. You’re his just as he’s yours, and for as long as he’s alive you wouldn’t have to worry about anything at all, you need not bother yourself with trivialities. Even if he had to have deceived you to get this point, he wouldn’t turn back time to undo the guilt, and traumas done to you. It made you who you are, and who you are, is his.