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unanimousgolddd · 1 month ago

Note

I love your Wesker series so much!! your writing of him is so good.... 🥹🥹🥹

Can we get a continuation if it, pretty please? slightly suggestive/NSFW is okay too!!

Date Night

Summary: What could go wrong going on a date with Dr. Wesker?

TW: pre-RE1 Wesker is possibly ooc, usage of pet name (love and lovely, sweetheart, pretty thing/pretty, dearest), implied fem Reader (they wear a dress and makeup), smut (w/ or w/o plot?) fingering, missionary, unsafe sex on a couch (please wear a condom or so help me), clothed sex (mostly on wesker's part), vulgar language (cunt, fuck, shit, dick), this just gave me a reason to try writing NSFW for the first time

Author's note: I'm so sorry; this would have been out sooner, but I'm dealing with some health issues (which worsen my anxiety and further rob me of actually writing) and I'm experiencing burnout because it’s summer break. This is also written for a fem reader only because I’m more familiar with that perspective and would rather not attempt writing a masc version poorly (since I'm a perfectionist). If this seems poorly written, I apologize; I'll rewrite it at a later date when I regain my special magical writing abilities.

Word Count: ~4.9k

Pt. 1 & Pt. 2 & Pt. 3

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Heavenly virtues and deadly sins. Charity and Greed, Chastity and Lust, Diligence and Sloth, Humility and Pride, Kindness and Envy, Patience and Wrath, Temperance and Gluttony. You were supposed to have virtues, the guides for your morals to make you a good person.

But patient wasn’t something you’d describe yourself as.

Dr. Wesker sent you the details two days before your planned Saturday date. The date was simple: He’d pick you up at 6:30 and drive you both to an authentic Italian restaurant in the nicer part of Raccoon City. The restaurant served fantastic pasta dishes, gorgeous desserts, and pastries. Although what wasn’t so simple was waiting and acting normal during work hours. Following your routine kept you sane, never drifting from the set order of events to keep you focused on the present.

Friday went as smoothly as any other; you woke up, went to work, and finally got off your shift. You and Dr. Wesker headed towards the parking garage together, partaking in a small conversation like usual. By the time you both stepped from the elevator, he reminded you of your date the following day, before he gave another lingering kiss and left you near your car with a hint of a smirk on his lips.

The excitement of having a date didn’t hit you until this morning after you ate breakfast. And after a realization, you became aware that you didn’t remember the last time you went on a proper date, especially not with a man like Wesker. If there was any. High school dates were cute, with boys bringing stereotypical roses (or not at all) and being too selfish to care about anything besides potentially getting into your pants. Perhaps that’s why you avoided dating like the plague, too worried that the next man (or actually boy) you came across would force you to lower your standards and settle for something not even half your worth. Perhaps that’s why you were so willing to go on a date with Wesker. Whether intentional or not, he made you want to be better, to seem like you deserved to have a chance with him, unlike the women and men who would incessantly suck up to him.

You had gone through your entire closet and dresser after breakfast, too much of a perfectionist not to mentally and physically prepare yourself even if it was seven hours before he picked you up. Most of your outfits screamed corporate instead of date, given how much Umbrella took most of your time, and it was hard enough trying to find a Spring or Summer outfit. But once it turned into two hours of indecisiveness and frustration, you decided on three options.

Option A was a light green floral patterned dress that came down three inches above your knees, hugged the shape of your waist, and was held up by two thinner straps. Option B was an all white off shouldered dress, making it very susceptible to staining from possible spills of food. The flowy skirt came lower and ended near the top of your shins and featured two long pieces of fabric around your waist to tie back to make a cute bow. The last dress, option C, was much slimmer and showed off your figure more than your work outfits did. It was another floral-patterned dress, however, the flowers were much larger and spaced out, with the soft pink colors complementing the white fabric, and it was held up by much thicker straps. All three dresses could be complemented with a cute Hawaiian flower clip that rested on your dresser.

Now running behind, although not really, you hurriedly grabbed your shower products and hopped into the shower. With a determination to look like a deity of beauty (and smell like one), vanilla-scented wash was your friend. You shaved your legs and other areas like your life were on the line. Your face was cleaned with the more special occasion products. Your hair was thoroughly conditioned and was soon wrapped up in a towel to be taken care of. Out of the shower and drying off, you quickly got to work with making sure your body was moisturized and silky smooth. Your makeup comes next.

You wanted to go with a simpler look, given that makeup wasn’t a specialty of yours and because you’d rather not experience the icky feeling of makeup on a hot day. Minimal concealer was applied to certain parts of your face, mascara on your lashes, quick eyeliner that brought the color of your eyes out, and a pretty pale pink lip gloss on your lips. You tackled the mess of your hair, separating it into sections and detangling before adding products to complete the look. Finally, you were left with deciding what to wear between the three options.

After staring at the outfits laid on your bed and their matching shoes underneath them, you decided to wear option C. You sighed as you looked in the mirror, eyes moving from your hair to your face, then down your neck, chest, and dress, and to your legs. It was odd wearing a dress after wearing pants and a shirt for so long. It was odd finally doing something other than eat, work, sleep, and repeat. But you didn’t entirely mind it.

You put your jewelry on, handling the delicate chains around your neck and wrists. Taking the cute flower clip, you added it to your hair and gave a smile to yourself in the mirror. You grabbed your purse, heels, and your phone to your living room. It would be a little while until Wesker showed.

༺♰༻

You perked up, and anxiousness flooded your system the moment you heard a knock on your front door. Quickly putting on the pale pink heels and spraying a little bit of vanilla perfume, you came to the door. With a breath, you turned the deadbolt and the knob before opening it. There stood Dr. Wesker. His appearance was just as sharp as usual, a crisp navy button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and black slacks. A watch glimmered in the evening sun on his left wrist, reminding you that Wesker was paid more than you could ever imagine. He held a bouquet of your favorite flowers in the same hand.

“You remembered.” You murmured, a smile slowly appearing on your lips. He reached his hand out and handed them to you, the bouquet looking much larger in your hands than his.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” He asked. His gaze followed you from behind the dark lenses, watching while you made quick work of filling a vase with water and taking care of the flowers. You didn’t have the heart to embarrass yourself by explaining why you thought he wouldn’t remember a little detail you mentioned in a passing conversation.

You grabbed your purse, which contained your phone, keys, some makeup, and other belongings, before walking back to your front door. You stepped out, closed and locked the front door behind you, before Wesker led you to his car with his hand on your lower back.

You both rounded the curve of the car, and he opened the passenger door for you. Once you were inside and your seatbelt was strapped over you, he was sitting down on his side of the car. It wasn’t long before he was driving out of your neighborhood and driving to the restaurant. You began a simple conversation to get rid of the silence that filled nervousness in your stomach. “I’m surprised you even suggested this.” You said, running your fingers over the texture of your purse. “Why?” He asked, turning on his turn signal, and turned the steering wheel to the right. “Though you were all business and no relationships.” You said a little quieter.

You heard him hum as you looked over at him. The only indication he glanced back at you was the slight tilt of his head in your direction. “There are many things you don’t know about me, lovely.” He said, slowly applying pressure onto the brake as he neared the traffic lights. You nodded slightly and looked out the tinted windows of his car, staring at the buildings are they went by. Eventually, Wesker rolled into a parking lot, and you found your eyes resting on his forearms as he handled the steering wheel and gear shifter between you two. He put the car in park and pulled the keys from the ignition before getting out, moving around the car, and opening your door once more. He held his hand out, and you smiled at him as you took it, standing up and grabbing your purse.

With his hand back on your lower back, he walked with you to the restaurant. Traditional arches and columns made up most of its exterior, while the inside held Mediterranean colors of earthy terracotta and olive green, and bright blues and yellows. You stopped at the counter as the host asked for the reservation information before taking you both to an available table in a far corner of the restaurant, allowing you both a bit of privacy. Once you sat down, it wasn’t long until a server came by, asking for both your drink and meal of choice. The server took both of your menus and promptly left as Wesker looked over at you from across the table, his forearms on the clean wooden surface. You glanced down at his interlocked hands before looking back at his shades.

“Do you always take your coworkers on dates?” You asked, fingers itching to nervously fidget with the ring on your right middle finger. “Only the ones that deserve it.” He responded.

You raised a brow, your head tilting to the left ten degrees. “Oh? So, you’re implying I deserve it.” You muttered.

“I thought we already established this,” he said with a light, amused sigh. You knew he was looking at you, even with the shades on the bridge of his nose, the heat of his gaze trailing over your hair, face, neck, possibly even your chest, and then your hands. “I believe…” He trailed off for a moment, meticulously choosing his words. “I believe you deserve this date because your presence does not irritate me, nor does it make me wish for a different assistant.” He explained to you as the server came by with your drinks. They placed the glasses of red wine on the table, along with the bottle, before leaving once more.

You figured he would’ve left it at that, but he continued to speak. “You are efficient and organized in your work. The office is always kept clean, thanks to you. Never are you loud, and you stay focused, which both alleviates the workload and my headache.” He said before swirling the wine in the glass, fingers holding onto the stem. He lifted the glass and took a sip of the red liquid, your eyes switching between his fingers and his lips. You find yourself smiling when you finally understand the meaning of his words. “I’ll take that as a compliment. It’s not often you give those.” You said softly before raising your glass and taking a sip.

“Are you implying I should compliment you more?” He asked bluntly, using the suddenness of his words to throw you off guard. You almost choked, quickly setting down the glass of wine before you spilled it on yourself. You cleared your throat and looked at him, catching the small smirk on his lips before it faded. “That is not what I was implying. However,” you paused, making sure not to make a fool of yourself in front of your date. “It would be nice if you did.” You said. Wesker gave a hum as an answer.

“Well, you look wonderful tonight, love.” He complimented as his hand reached out, moving to gently tuck a stubborn strand in front of your face behind your ear. And just as his finger brushed your cheek, his hand was gone and back in front of him. You flashed a bashful smile, ignoring the light heat that dusted across your cheeks.

The conversation carried on, undertones of flirtation becoming more and more prominent. Then, the food came.

“Here’s your cacio e pepe,” the server said, setting down your pasta plate in front of you. “And here’s your gnocchi with pesto.” They said, placing Wesker’s dish in front of him. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.” They smiled before leaving.

Needless to say, with the first bite of your pasta, you were already hoping to come to this restaurant again. “This is so good…” You mumbled after thoroughly chewing. You took another bite, making sure not to get any of the cheese onto your face or dress. “I’m glad. I was hoping you’d like this place.” He said before beginning to eat.

When both of you finished your drinks and meal, the server came around to take your dishes and hand dessert menus.

“Would you like tiramisu or perhaps lemon ricotta cake?” He asked, labeling a few of the items. You leaned your head against your hand, elbow planted on the table. You hummed, thinking over your options as you played with your ring. “I want…cannolis.” You finally decide, and Wesker sets the dessert menu down.

“Good choice.” He said with obvious approval. Dessert came around fast, and you ate the cannolis provided.

“Can’t believe I’ve never had a cannoli before this.” You murmured, quickly grabbing another to put in your mouth. “I’m surprised you’ve never had cannolis before either.” He said with amusement. When you looked at him, the usual furrow in his brow was gone, and he looked almost happy.

The next hour was a blur. One moment you were standing after he paid the bill, the next he was taking you back to the car, and the next he was driving you back home. You watched as he reversed out of the parking space, his hand on the back of your seat as he looked over his shoulder to see what he was doing. His forearm flexed, and his brow furrowed, the crease between the middle returning. You bit your lower lip and looked away from him, deciding to focus on the dark outside and the moon.

Wesker put the car in drive and drove out of the parking lot of the restaurant. Neither of you said anything. Your eyes fell on him again, watching as he turned and held the wheel. Your fingers gained the itch. It wasn’t the same itch that wanted to fidget, it was the same itch that wanted to touch, to squeeze, and grip with all its might. It felt raw and uncontrollable, it felt similar to cuteness aggression.

“You’re staring again,” Wesker said, his voice breaking the silence. But unlike before, you didn’t look away from him. Instead, you turned your body as much as you could towards him. “Something piqued your interest?” He asked, momentarily turning his head to look at you.

“It’s childish.” You said in a quiet voice. “Childish?” He repeated, as if curious at the use of that particular adjective.

“I wanna claw at you like an animal.” You murmured. Wesker’s brow raised in surprise, not believing you’d say such a thing. “Do you really?” He asked, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. He made himself focus on the road and the other cars, refusing to properly acknowledge your blatant staring. You nodded at his question, continuing to stare like your life depended on it. You didn’t notice the speedometer rising.

“What else do you want to do, pretty thing?” He asked, voice low and dry like he was still recovering from your previous sentence. You sat up in the passenger seat, positioning your purse onto the floor of the car instead of your lap. Your left hand reached out and trailed your finger over the imprint of his bicep, feeling the flex of his muscle every time he made a turn. “I wanna touch and squeeze and…” You stopped your sentence, suddenly remembering where you were and who you were with, and backed off. You placed your hands back in your lap.

“No, no, don’t get shy suddenly,” Wesker said, making another left turn before suddenly putting the car in park. You looked out the window and realized you were already home, the car parked on the street in front of your home. When you looked back at Wesker, his body was turned towards you, the key already out of the ignition. “If you’re going to start something, you know better than to leave it unfinished.” He murmured, hand on your chin to keep you from looking away. His thumb brushed against the outline of your lips, almost tugging on your bottom lip, before he suddenly moved from you. He exited the car and promptly opened your car door. He helped you out once more, letting you grab your belongings before he turned you around.

“What else do you want to do?” He asked once more, his hands resting on your hips. You swallowed and looked up at his sunglasses. “Kiss you, touch you, squeeze you.” You whispered, and he smirked. “Well, I believe you’ve earned that right, haven’t you?” He said, shutting the car door. You began to walk backwards as he walked forwards, hand fishing for your keys as you came to your front door. He wasn’t going to leave, and you didn’t want him to. He let you turn around to unlock the door, fingers moving up to your waist and squeezing lightly. He leaned his head down, taking a breath of your hair before moving down to your neck as you opened the door. “You smell like honey and vanilla.” He noted, and you gave a short nod, too flustered to speak. When you walked forward, he walked forward, shutting the door with his foot and locking it with one hand. You moved into the living room and tossed your purse, only for Wesker to bring you back against his chest.

“Tell me… how long have you felt like this?” He asked, and at first, your brows furrowed in confusion. “Even before that incident with Maria, before I truly became close to you, I’ve noticed the looks you give me.” He murmured, lips beginning to press against the side of your neck and shoulder after he pushed the strap of the dress off your shoulder.

“You looked needy, as if you were denied water in a desert.” He said, fingers running over every curve and dip of your front. “When was the last time someone took care of you, hmm?” He asked, nose nudging the side of your throat. Your mouth opened to answer, but initially, all you gave was a short and light breath. The heat that you don’t remember ever forming grew worse in your lower belly, your underwear sticking to you uncomfortably. “I don’t remember.” You answered finally, and he chuckled. “Don’t remember? Perhaps it is long overdue.” He whispered.

He moved you to your couch, guiding your back onto the armrest. He took his place between your legs, fingers undoing the strap of your heels and taking them off your feet. He placed them somewhere near the coffee table, and you reached up, pulling his shades off. “I hate these things.” You said before leaning up and kissing him. His hands, initially placed on your stomach, moved down to your thighs, thumbs swirling circles onto the smooth skin of your inner thighs. The shades dropped somewhere, and he grunted at the soft thump of them hitting the floor. Your hands moved up his arms to his shoulders, softly digging into the muscles underneath the fabric of his shirt before moving to the buttons of his shirt. He tilted his head to the right, deepening the kiss as your fingers began to unclasp the buttons,

He pulled away from your lips and began to kiss down your jaw and neck, hands momentarily leaving your thighs to brush away the straps of your dress. Your mouth opened to take a deep breath, eyes fluttering with every press of his lips to your skin. He moved the collar of your dress down little by little until the straps were off your arms and the collar was lying on the middle of your stomach. “I’ll admit,” he murmured against the skin of your sternum. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time.” He said, glancing up at you. He leaned up to kiss you once more. His hands moved to your backside, one lifting your back and the other moving upward to unclasp the bra you wore. When it was finally loose, he pulled the straps off your shoulders and removed it without parting from your lips. Next thing you knew, his left thumb was toying with your hardening nipple as his mouth came around your other, tongue flicking the bud. Your hand, now unoccupied, ran through his hair, messing up the once neatly slicked back hair.

Your breaths came out as pants as he switched to your other breast, pressing kisses and light bites before toying with your nipple with his tongue. He hummed, his left hand moving downwards once more. This time, instead of resting on your thigh, it trailed upwards. He rolled the skirt of your dress upwards, letting it rest on your hips. “Perhaps, it would be better if this were pulled off too, wouldn’t it?” He said, finally unlatching his mouth from your breast.

He helped lift your hips and pulled the dress completely off, sliding it over your legs before tossing it somewhere in the room. Feeling too exposed, you grabbed his shirt and pulled it off his shoulders. He chuckled, taking care of the rest and tossing the dark blue shirt somewhere. “Eager, aren’t you?” He said, and you rolled your eyes. “Is that a crime–” Your sentence was cut off when you felt his thumb suddenly press against the wet patch of your underwear. A breathy, barely inaudible moan escaped your lips, and you looked away from Wesker.

“Eyes,” he said, his other hand coming up and pulling your chin back to make you face him. “On me, pretty thing.” He murmured, fingers beginning to hook into the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips, and he pulled the article of clothing off, thumb coming back down, and began to press firm circles. He made sure you never looked away from him, a smirk on his lips. His fingers, dipped into your slick, moved to your entrance. Your legs twitched, trying to close on his arm, however, he quickly parted them open once more. “None of that, pretty thing. C’mon, keep them legs open for me, yes?” He murmured as he eased two fingers into your dripping heat. Your hand came from your side and grabbed a cushion.

His fingers began to move back and forth, working you open little by little. You gasped for air, his thumb continuing to press circles onto your clit. “That’s it…” He praised, the muscles on his forearm flexing as your other hand grabbed onto it, he chuckled in response. He angled his fingers just right, the pads of his fingers hitting the spongy spot, and you cried out, voice louder than you would have liked. “Keep doing it like that…” You said in a mix of gasps and moans.

He leaned down and kissed you, your previously coordinated kissing soon turned sloppy as he pumped his fingers faster. Your slick was dripping down your thighs and touching the once clean couch cushions. Soon enough, the muscles of your thighs tightened around Wesker’s body, and the coil in your core had coiled so unbelievably tight that the force of an organism hit you like a truck. With the help of Wesker’s mouth over yours, he drowned out the loud moans you made as you gushed over his fingers.

When you finally came down to your senses, he pulled his fingers from your fluttering cunt and brought them to his mouth. You watched him lap at your slick and cum, tongue swirling around his digits. His fingers exited his mouth with a loud pop and he bent down to kiss you, tongue entering your mouth and giving you a taste of your own cum.

Your hand trailing down his chest, fingers feeling the muscles of his abdomen, and stopping at the fly of his pants. You were suddenly aware of his bulge, the imprint looking as big as your palm. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, lovely.” He murmured and guided your hand in unzipping his fly and unclasping the button. He pulled both his boxers and slacks down just far enough to free his cock. The soft pink tip was decorated with beads of pre. You looked up at his face, his lips a deep red from the kissing. “Gonna sound so pretty, won’t you?” He whispered, slowly lining himself with your entrance. When he finally moved, easing the bulbous head into your tight walls, he hissed. “Breathe. You’re already so tight.” He said, words dragging out a little. You did what he asked and breathed, attempting to relax a little as he fully sheathed himself in you. You let out a whine, and Wesker placed his hands on your hips, preventing you from moving too much. After letting you adjust to his size, the incomparable girth stretching you out, he began to rock his hips back and forth. Your back arched and your eyes squeezed shut, only for him to stop moving.

“What did I say?” He said, tapping your cheek and making you open your eyes. “Eyes on me.” He said before his hands tightened around your hips. You grabbed onto a cushion once more, moaning and whining every time he slammed his hips up into you. It was a slow but deep pace, his dick seemingly reaching deep into your stomach and touching your intestines. You kept your eyes on him, maintaining eye contact.

“Look at you,” he said with a chuckle, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek. “So pretty. Sounds pretty too.” He murmured before suddenly slamming his hips into your cunt like his life depended on it, the sudden shift change sending you into a frenzy. You moaned and grabbed onto Wesker with both hands.

“Too much–” You whined. “But this tight cunt is saying otherwise, it keeps sucking me in.” He chuckled, the sound low and throaty. You pleaded with him, a train of slurring “please”s leaving your lips. He only continued his fast pace, driving his cock deeper and deeper. You tightened around him, and he groaned, sticking his face into your neck. You could hear him take greedy breaths of the vanilla scent you put on earlier before kissing and biting your neck.

“I…I…” You could barely speak, blank eyes staring up at the ceiling as the coil in your core finally unwinded and you came around Wesker’s cock with a loud cry. His hips began to stutter, groans and barely audible moans. “Shit…So fucking tight, can barely move.” He huffed, his strokes becoming sloppier and sloppier until he came and coated your insides white.

The two of you panted, skin sweaty, and your limbs boneless. He slowly leaned up from your neck, eyes falling onto your disheveled appearance. He chuckled as if he still wasn’t six inches deep in you. You, in your post-orgasmic state, had not a single thought in your brain. “Perhaps, I should’ve done this long ago.” He said, slowly pulling from you. You whined before leaning your head back and closing your eyes. You felt him move away from you, and the click of his shoes. It was silent for a moment or two before he came back.

“Where’d you go?” You murmured, not bothering to open your eyes. “I went to find where your bathroom and bedroom were.” He answered, sliding his arm behind your back and under your legs. He picked you up and carried you to your bathroom, sitting you on top of the toilet seat. He left the room to allow you a moment of privacy to do your business (remember to always use the bathroom after sex, guys), which could have been easier if your legs were so weak. When you opened the bathroom door, he helped you walk to your bed a few feet away, his hands on your hips.

He had already moved the bedsheets, allowing easy access to lie down quickly. He laid you down, and before he could even pull away, your hand reached out and grabbed him. “Don’t leave.” You murmured, eyes barely open. The corner of Wesker’s lips curled, and he gave you a small smile. “Dearest, who said I was leaving?” He said, and your grip on him loosened. He moved to the other side of your bed and took off his slacks, choosing to sleep in his boxers. You turned on your left side, facing him as he climbed into bed next to you. You placed your head on his chest, tucked underneath his chin, as his arms wrapped around you.

“Does this mean a second date?” You asked quietly.

He gave a short laugh. “It means as many dates as you want.” He whispered.

You could faintly feel Wesker kiss the top of your head, his hand drawing circles on your bare back as you went to sleep, breathing evening, and your body stilling.

#albert wesker #resident evil #x reader #smut #fluff #albert wesker x reader

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unanimousgolddd · 2 months ago

Note

Omg I love your writing!! Can we please get part 3 to the Wesker series?? 💓💓🙏

Connection

OMG, I'm literally so happy, this is my first request/ask.

Summary: Kissing your boss was the greatest and worst idea. Now, he won't leave you alone in your mind. But, you can't be too upset.

TW: lots of kissing (but like minor making out), pre-RE1 Wesker is possibly ooc, usage of pet name (dearest), GN! Reader, work was kind of rushed/not entirely proofread and may seem incomplete.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Pt. 1 & Pt. 2

Author's note: I may just write the date sometime soon idk, (maybe even NSFW/suggestive if someone requests it). And I don't like this one too much so some events may be change (undecided though).

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

You laughed. Or rather, giggled.

It was Sunday, and you had just finished cleaning your dinner dishes and putting them back in your cupboards. It was a typical Sunday, just as yesterday had been a typical Saturday. On Saturday, you had cleaned your home, from the pictures to the book and CD shelves, putting more effort than usual into cleaning the floors and counters. It felt as if you were putting on a show or trying to seem more presentable. Today, you had the opportunity to admire your hard work by lounging around and being lazy for once. However, even when you turned on your favorite TV show before switching to a movie, you never truly paid attention. Not because you knew the scenes by heart, but because your mind was elsewhere, thinking about someone.

You’ve been giggling since Friday like a schoolgirl. It started after work, after that kiss, when you took a shower before lying on your back upon your sheets. You giggled before rolling over and kicking your legs as you smiled. You felt ridiculous, yet each time you thought about him, about his lips and hands, you couldn’t help yourself.

It felt like torture, roaming around your home as your mind pestered you with the memory of him, of his words, of his touch. You wanted to call him and go “Do you wanna go to dinner with me?” but you could never bring yourself to press the call button.

You liked to say you had patience and could keep yourself level-headed in times of stress. But when it came to him, Dr. Wesker, your boss who seemed to push past your limits, stress you out, and hook you in so much that you couldn’t leave, you could hardly say you were level-headed.

Now, like a fool, you stared at your TV. It was hopeless thinking you could ever get over what he did. He was interested in you, yet, despite your initial jumping for joy, you couldn’t believe him. It was obvious Wesker had a preference in everything, which would inevitably include partners. But you knew he never did anything without reason. He chose you for a reason, he chose to kiss you, he chose to get so close yet stay so far from you.

Your body jerks as you feverishly shake your head like a madman, trying to rid him from your thoughts. Eventually, you shut the TV off and head to your room, flopping onto your bed and sighing dramatically. As if on cue, your phone buzzes. And pathetically, you immediately move to see what the notification was, a little too excited.

But before you could type out a response, he sent another message.

I need you in the office by 7:45 sharp for an experiment.

The first message read and you already begin to feel yourself smile. You weren’t exactly crazy, anyone would be incredibly upset at having to come to work earlier than normal. You were excited as it meant you’d see him longer than usual.

Try to get some more sleep than usual, yes, dearest?

Your thumbs moved on their own, and you typed out a response faster than you would’ve liked.

Of course. I’ll see you at 7:45.

You looked away from your screen and turned off the device before forcing yourself to take a deep breath.You turned off your phone and took Wesker’s advice and went through your nightly routine. Not long after you found yourself lying in bed. You set an earlier alarm on your phone before placing it on the nearby nightstand and sighing. Sometime later, your eyes slowly fluttered closed as the background noise of whatever was playing on your TV helped you fall asleep.

༺♰༻

You woke up to the sound of your alarm with a huff and glare up at whatever your eyes fell on. You went through your morning as usual, showering and doing your hair, dressing, and eating something for breakfast before leaving the house. Traffic was easy on the way to work, given that it was earlier than you would leave the house. Getting into the labs was a breeze.

You walk quietly to your office, passing by no one except the tall and bleak walls that make up the labyrinth system of the underground labs. When you come to the office door, you grab the door handle and step inside. You give Wesker a small smile, who’s already at his desk and doing something. He doesn’t glance up at you, although you had your back turned as you unpacked your bag for the day, so you couldn’t see if he did or not.

“You’re early.” He said, flipping a page.

You look back at him over your shoulder, brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean? You told me to be early.” You replied as you leaned against your desk, the side of your leg pressing against the wood. His head lifts, and he doesn’t say anything momentarily.

“I said a quarter til eight. Not 7:20.”

You turn your head and look at the wall with widened eyes. Finally realizing why this morning seemed so quiet and easy, you swallowed and decided to open your laptop in silence. “I didn’t realize.” You said, typing in the password with fumbling fingers. Wesker gives a short hum before you can hear his chair rolling back on the floor. His footsteps draw nearer as he comes towards you, promptly rounding the corner of your desk and standing beside you. It wasn’t long before his hand was on the back of your chair, turning you to face him before tilting his head. Your eyes were forced away from the screen of your laptop to the shades he wore upon the bridge of his nose, the dark lenses giving you a view of your reflection. “We’ll have to find some way to pass the time, yes? I’m afraid there isn’t anything significant to do yet.” He muttered, his hand moving to the armrest of the chair.

Your heart leaps at his words, and you curtly clear your throat to at least speak clearly.

“Are you suggesting something, Wesker?” You asked.

He shrugs a little as he leans in a little closer. “Tell me what my last words were to you, please?” He requested in a low voice. “‘Remind me to do that again,’” You repeated his words quietly, and a small smirk graced his lips, displaying his satisfaction in your compliance.

“So…” He drags out the word a little as he continues to look at you, unmoving from his position in front of you. He blocked you from leaving the chair with his right hand on the armrest of the chair and his other on the surface of your desk. You momentarily looked away from the dark lenses to his outfit, taking notice of the top three open buttons of his dark blue shirt and the black slacks of his pants. “What do you think I am suggesting, dearest?” There’s that word again. That God awful word that always brought the same heart-fluttering reaction to you. What you wouldn’t do to hear him call you that constantly was very little.

“Do I have to say it?”

“I would like you to.” His hand reaches up, and he grabs your chin gently, tilting your head up to look at him once more.

You release your breath a bit forcibly and take a conscious inhale. “But what if I would rather have you show me?” You asked boldly but just as quietly as before.

“That works as well.” He hums.

In less than ten minutes, you were already kissing him again. All morning, you didn’t want to appear excited at the idea of getting to kiss him again, that would make it seem like you were desperate for him. However, you had been looking forward to another moment with him since Friday, even if you denied it.

The kisses started like the first one, tender and slow. But, not long after, his hand moved from your chin to your throat. He was gripping it as if he was trying to choke you, but instead, it was a heavy reminder of who you were with, almost like a weight of ownership over you, even if neither of you was in a committed relationship. The kisses soon turned a little rougher as his head tilted to the right to deepen the kiss. And you leaned back in your chair, letting his body cover you as he led the kiss. The only time you parted was to breathe a measly few kisses before getting kissed again.

His knee nudged your legs open so he could get closer to you before there was a knock at the door. He gave a noise of dissatisfaction and parted from you, head turning to the door. Your eyes opened, and you looked at him, eyes catching a glimpse of his red lips before he moved from you, opening the door. Soon enough, Wesker was gone from the office room as he was required for a meeting with other high-level Umbrella workers. This left you alone with tingling lips, a hot face, and your thoughts.

It was two hours until you saw Wesker and immediately once he got into the office, he ordered you to grab things for the experiments. You reminded yourself that this was a time for work, not a time for making out with your boss. So, you grabbed the needed supplies and soon met with the scientist in the testing rooms.

For God knows how long, you spent time in the testing labs, taking notes on the results and behaviors of the test subjects. You did whatever Wesker asked you, given that it was your job as his assistant and no matter how harsh or rude he sounded. After several short breaks and a lunch, you were finally released back to the office to pack your things and leave for home.

“You coming?” You asked Wesker as you neared the door. He shook his head, eyes glued to the papers in front of him. “No, I need to finish. You may leave.” He said, and you gave a short nod, grabbing the door handle and promptly leaving the testing room. You languidly moved back to your office, strolling the halls without haste. It felt odd not walking by his side, a bit awkward, but comfortable in his presence. Whatever had gone on in the meeting this morning had ruined his mood. You asked about it earlier during your lunch, but he only gave you a sharp “don’t worry about it” before going back to eating.

As outlandish as it sounds, you had no interest in leaving yet, and after reaching the office and sitting at your desk, you only waited for your coworker. Luckily, it wasn’t long before he entered the room, hand running through his slicked back hair as he sighed deeply.

“I thought you left.” He said with a low voice laced with barely masked exhaustion. “I wanted to wait for you.” You said softly, previously messing around with your phone moments prior.

You stood up as he moved over to his desk, handling his things without the same calculated and meticulous care. You studied him for a moment, catching the way his brows furrowed with the little creases in between his brows deepening for a moment. “You’re stressed.” You stated as you rounded the corner of his desk and stood at his side.

He gave a gruff hum, moving the things from atop his desk to the drawers or folders. You bring your hands to his shoulders, momentarily stilling his movements and bringing his attention to you. You dig your thumbs into the tight muscles of his shoulders, making him relax much quicker than you thought.

“You don’t need to tell me about what happened in the meeting,” you said as you massaged his shoulders, his hands letting go of the various papers and manila folders. “But can you at least tell me why you’re suddenly so stressed?” You asked quietly, gaze moving up to the dark lenses.

His hands uncharacteristically hesitate before moving to your waist, the heat of his palms seeping through the material of your shirt. “To put it simply…” He licked his lips and paused his sentence. “Things that were discussed were not to my preference.” He said as he looked at you, the weight of his gaze lingering near your eyes before moving down to your lips.

You nod to his words as you suck in a breath.

You weren’t in a relationship. You couldn’t be, not as long as you were a scientist and an assistant. However, the heavy tension between you was undeniable. You hadn’t believed it would end like this–your nights spent yearning for his presence and touch, and your days accompanied by thick tension that kept you from thinking straight during work.

But your gaze moved to his hand as it left your waist and moved to grab his sunglasses. He pulled them off his face, with your eyes connecting to his for the first time. He stared at you, his pretty deep blue eyes staring back at you. They were like how you imagined, a deep blue that drew you in, but not exactly. You expected them to have a sharper gaze, but instead, there was a hint of softness in his gaze whenever he looked at you. He reached over and placed the shades on the table.

“Is there a way I can help you, Dr. Wesker?” You asked in a quiet voice, hands stilling as they began to move upwards. The pads of your fingers trace the column of his neck, grazing his Adam’s apple before reaching the sharpness of his jaw. You hesitated before bringing your fingers up to his features, touching his face. You ran your fingers over the bridge of his nose and his cheeks before your thumb gently rubbed over the outer line of his lips.

Without another moment wasted, he leaned in and kissed you once more. Your lower back hit the edge of his desk as he pushed you against it, hands tightening around your waist. You let out a gasp, and this time, he didn't hesitate to slip his tongue inside your mouth the moment your lips parted. You didn’t know how much time had passed until you parted and gave a glance at the clock. It was past seven, and you would’ve been home by now if you hadn’t decided to stay for him.

Wesker’s gaze never left you, however, the heavy but soft gaze roaming your features as if he was seeing you in a different light. You were attractive even with your slightly out-of-place hair and flushed cheeks, even more so without the dark filter of the sunglasses.

“Would you be free Saturday night?” He asked unexpectedly, his tone serious. You looked over at him before pretending to think as you looked off to the side. “Hmm…I don’t know, I have to check with my boss about that.” You joked. His eyes narrowed, but you knew he was slightly amused.

“But, yes, I am free. Why?”

“You deserve a proper date and not just infrequent kisses. I’ll message you the details soon.”

You raised a brow before an uncontrollable smile came to your lips. You hadn’t expected that; however, you were a little glad you weren’t the one asking for a date.

“You’re something else, Wesker.” You said with a smile as you move towards your desk and begin to grab your bag and other belongings. He followed the same and soon enough, was walking out the door with his hand on the small of your back. “I hope this something else is good.” He said as you both made your ways to the elevator.

Moments later, it was the two of you walking to your cars in the parking garage in a comfortable silence. “Let’s be a little professional during working hours. I’d rather not have rumors spreading around the facility.” He suggests. Then, he gives you a goodbye kiss and walks off to his car without an ounce of shame. “Just keep your body to yourself, and we won’t have any problems, Dr,” you respond as he glances back at you. He smirks before entering the driver’s side and promptly driving away. Bastard.

Despite his asshole behavior, you were looking forward to that date.

#albert wesker #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #fluff #x black reader #black!reader #x reader

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unanimousgolddd · 2 months ago

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Resident Evil Masterlist

Albert Wesker

Bad Day, Worst Day (1), Admiration and Staring (2), Connection (3), Date Night (4) - Oneshot

Chris Redfield

Coming soon...

Jack Krauser

Coming soon...

Jake Muller

Coming soon...

Leon S. Kennedy

Coming soon...

#heavenly's RE masterlist #-ˏˋ navigation ˊˎ

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unanimousgolddd · 2 months ago

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Admiration

Summary: Everyone keeps secrets. But after the incident with Dr. Maria, you find yourself pushing the limits of professionalism by Umbrella’s standards. (This is part two of my previous post Bad Day, Worst Day, as requested by Vesper)

TW: eventual kissing, mild language, possibly ooc Wesker, GN! Reader, useage of dearest (like literally once)

Word Count: ~2.5k

Tags: @vesperaominosum <3

Requests are OPEN if you'd like me to write something specific (head cannons or a fic like this or if you want me to continue this)

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Watchful, effective, self-assured, keen, elusive, and respectable.

That’s how you’ve come to describe him. Sure, there were thousands of other words to describe him, but none were as fitting when you watched him work. You’ve grown to admire him throughout the time you’ve worked with him, but not so much understand him. Dr. Wesker was an enigma, or possibly like the Rubik's Cube, something you could never figure out how to solve, no matter how much you tried.

But despite how he acted, distant and private, it was his appearance that drew you in and kept you. There were handsome men, but then there was Albert Wesker. Perhaps it was his signature sunglasses that never strayed from the bridge of his perfect straight nose. Perhaps it was sharp features, sculpted like a beautiful marble statue. Or maybe it was the fact that you got to see him every day for hours upon end, granted the ability to gaze upon him whether he was working or scolding you for a mistake, even when you knew you were blatantly staring. It was impossible not to.

You knew this because you were watching him now, eyes trailing over his hands as he wrote on pieces of paper. His hands were veiny, but not disgustingly veiny like someone who took steroids. His fingers were long, and the skin on the back of his hands was smooth-looking. All the while, those same hands were attached to strong forearms, the muscles rippling whenever he took another stroke of his pen. You knew this because his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. You weren’t able to understand when or how he could get such muscles, given his packed schedule and his obvious devotedness to the Tyrant project.

You tried focusing on your work long ago, but it was a rather quick task that you had nothing else to do. Besides, you never could help yourself when it came to eye candy.

Your eyes trailed up to his face, roaming over details you’ve seen plenty of times before but were too shy to completely take in. Sharp jaw, straight nose, pursed thin lips that turned a deep pink whenever he pursed too hard, and the gentle furrow of his brows. If only you could see what lay beneath the glasses, the only item that prevented you from seeing the windows to the soul. Were they brown? Or perhaps they were a softer, darker, yet equally blue?

Maybe that’s why he wore the sunglasses, to hide the most vulnerable parts from people he didn’t trust or wasn’t close to. However, you didn’t take Dr. Wesker as a sentimental man.

“You’re staring.” Wesker suddenly said, breaking you from your staring session. You hadn’t even noticed he stopped writing and lifted his head to look at you, catching your act of continuous staring.

You sat up in your chair and cleared your throat, glancing back at your computer in a mock attempt at focusing. “Sorry, I was just mostly thinking.” You gave a half lie. He raised his left brow, his pen still poised. “Oh? And what were you thinking about?” He asked as he began to lean back in his chair, pen discarded next to the page he was writing on. “Lunch.” You lied compulsively, not wanting to admit you were staring at him for so long.

You stood up and grabbed your bag, suddenly deciding it was breaktime for you. “Figured you didn’t bring lunch again, and I’m going to a sandwich place, Jason’s. You want a sandwich?” You asked him as you approached the door. You turned to look at him. You couldn’t tell if he was contemplating his decision or was disappointed in the sudden shift of conversation. “The Panuzzo, pesto with light olive oil, tomato, mozzarella, ham.” He said. You weren’t sure whether or not to be surprised by his choice of sandwich, but you did know it sounded good. You gave him a thumbs up before leaving the office, and eventually the underground labs and Umbrella itself. Getting the sandwiches didn’t take long either, with the line inside not too long, and the actual sandwich-making was quick. Soon enough, you were showing the guards at the entrance of the labs your I.D. before walking down the same long corridor to your office.

With two knocks to the door, you opened it with your other hand and closed it behind you. “I was surprised when they had your sandwich on the menu, I’ve never heard of it before.” You said as you placed your bag on your desk. You brought the plastic bag to Wesker’s desk, digging in the bag and grabbing his wrapped sandwich. You handed him the food item before moving to your own desk to eat. “Jason is an Italian American, his grandmother was from Italy.” He responded, beginning to open the paper wrapping.

You paused and looked up from your sandwich, brows raised. “How do you know that?” You asked with a small laugh of surprise. The only indication he looked at you was the slight upward tilt of his chin. “I know Jason, I have been to his sandwich place before,” Wesker answered bluntly. “He likes to talk.” He added before moving to eat. You watched him take his bite of food, mind still whirring at the idea of a man like him, who seemed to never stop working, standing inside a small sandwich shop with a nice Jason talking his ear off. Eventually, you decided enough was enough and you began to eat your sandwich.

The office was silent for a while, the only sounds being of crumpling of the paper wrapper and the occasional shift in the seat filling the noise. It felt peaceful despite how much you two worked in hurried atmospheres.

“You were staring earlier.” He said, sandwich half eaten, and various small pieces of tomato from his sandwich resting on the wrapper. You paused your chewing and glanced away from your sandwich, brows raised in surprise. “I was not.” You responded, trying to defend your actions even though you knew you had been staring.

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.” You said, trying to keep yourself from cracking a smile. And it was hard to spin it around into the idea that you were doing something else since he had caught you blatantly staring.

“Yes, you were.” He wiped his hands on the napkin next to his sandwich before standing, back popping a few times while he stood with a straight back.

He moved towards you, deliberately slowing his footsteps and adding tension. He took one more step before finally standing in front of you, hands coming down to rest on the edge of your desk. You opened your mouth to give another objection to his claim, but could only lick your lips subtly. “You were admiring me.” He muttered, lowering his head so you were eye to eye. “And if I were?” You murmured, staring up at him.

He gave a hum that came from the depths of his throat, the sound rumbling in the air almost like a soft growl. “I’d say you were being unprofessional. And that it wasn’t your first time you’ve committed such an act.” He said in a quiet voice.

“You’re an enigma, that’s why.” You said in defense, suddenly no longer having the ability to look him in the eyes (sunglasses) and deciding to wipe your hands off on the napkin next to you. When you were done, his left hand came up and tilted your chin up to make you look at him. “And does that annoy you? Or…does it intrigue you?” He asked, not allowing you to look away from him.

You swallowed. The sudden lack of space, or rather, the space between the two of you, felt small. He was right in front of you, fingers holding your chin, and face so close yet so far from yours. Every bit of you, the irrational you, wanted to lean forward and kiss him despite your professional relationship. Besides, you didn’t know if he’d accept that and completely reject your feelings.

But you didn’t realize how he looked at you from behind the black shades. He found you fascinating. He lived a life of secrecy, solitude, and Umbrella. He didn’t need anyone, he told himself, until you came along. He was still secretive, yet he found himself beginning to rely on you not just because you were his assistant, but because you were competent enough to be worthy of his time and presence.

He would watch you as you worked, taking mental notes as you handled certain tasks and obstacles. He noted your quirks and habits, memorizing how you liked things organized and done, along with what you shared during conversations. He knew you preferred pasta dishes for lunch and would often avoid eating sugary treats every day. He knew you couldn’t stand silences when working and would hum a song from the radio to stay focused. He also had your files, detailing everything from your medical information to where you enrolled and graduated from college. He understood you, but he had yet to know you. It wasn’t his original plan, which had been to ignore you mostly and use you when you proved useful. However, there was something about you that kept him from acting normally.

“What do you think?” You finally answered him. He gave no sign of acknowledgement, not even a tilt of his head. You were almost convinced he was simply fucking with you.

He moved closer unexpectedly, and you could have sworn your heart jumped as anxiety filled your lower stomach, removing you from your appetite. “I think…you harbor unprofessional feelings,” Wesker whispered to you, his voice low and deep as if he were giving you a secret. However, before you could lean forward to give him the kiss you’ve been dying to give him, a knock came to the door, and he immediately moved away from you and stood straight.

“Come in.” He said to the person behind the door before moving back to his desk. You released the breath you were holding earlier and went back to your sandwich.

Neither of you had commented about what had happened four days ago. Not like you could anyway, as the two of you were surrounded by so much work that it was impossible to have a casual chat. And it wasn’t like you wanted to confront him about it, too shy and embarrassed, you let your feelings dictate your actions. You distanced yourself from him unintentionally, and he noticed quickly.

It was time to leave for you after a long ten hours of working, the weekend was finally here for you. You gently shut the lid of your laptop after logging out and placed it in your work bag. Any pens you used during the day were put away in the drawer to your right. Just as you stood, Wesker walked through the door. “Leaving now?” He asked as he moved to his desk. He caught the nod you gave and glanced down at the surface of his desk. “I’ll walk you out. It won’t do me any good to stay here for so long.” He suddenly suggested and began to gather his items. Soon enough, the two of you exited the office room and began to walk the long corridors back to the entrance of the labs.

You gave your goodbyes to the night guards as Wesker pressed the call button for the elevator. The elevator came a moment later, and you walked inside, with Wesker pressing the button for the ground floor. You didn’t say anything as the elevator doors closed and began its ascent to the surface.

“We never finished our conversation.” He suddenly commented as he stood beside you, his head facing forward. You swallow your suddenly dry throat and tighten your grip on your coat. “We’ve been busy, sir.” You responded, keeping your eyes forward. “But you know it’s not just because of that.” He remarked. You cursed at yourself mentally. You merely gave a nod at his words, unable to find the right words to make a coherent excuse for why you never brought things up again.

“It’s just…” You stopped your sentence, not liking the way things sounded when you said them out loud. Eventually, you rubbed your eyes and took a deep breath to hype yourself up. What’s the worst thing that could happen? You asked yourself.

“I didn’t want to.” You said it quieter than you would’ve liked.

“Why?” He asked immediately.

“Didn’t know how you felt. Knew it was unprofessional.” You said briefly, trying not to say too much to prevent yourself from stumbling over words and creating a pile of incoherent phrases hardly considered to be a sentence. “That didn’t stop you before, when you admired me.” He replied, his head tilting to the left as he glanced at you. “This time it was different, alright?” You said, turning your head to look at him.

The elevator stopped at your destination, and you stepped out once the doors opened to the parking garage. You wasted no time grabbing your car keys from your bag, the heels of your shoes clicking on the floor. However, Wesker’s hand came flying from his side and grabbed your forearm, spinning you around and forcing you to face him. “You wanted to kiss me.” He didn’t sound like he was questioning your previous words, instead, it sounded like a fact. You didn’t respond immediately, eyes up on your reflection in his shades. Eventually, you gave him a tiny nod that answered him. “Why didn’t you do it, then?” He whispered to you, loosening his grip on your forearm and standing closer to you.

You bit your lip. “Didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me…too.” You told him in an equally quiet murmur, cheeks flushing with heat as you register your own words.

“Could’ve just asked me, dearest.”

Suddenly, he was leaning in, hovering his lips right over yours before finally kissing you. For a moment, you let him do it as you stood stiffly before tilting your head to the right and deepening the kiss. His hand moved from your forearm to your cheek, cupping it to keep you close.

It wasn’t full of teeth or tongue, it wasn’t even heated. Instead, it was a softness you had never experienced before. It was distinctly him, unsure of how to approach the kiss, but tender like how he handled you the day Dr. Maria spilled those chemicals on you. It wasn’t exactly full of warmth like one you’d share with a significant other, but it was like a first kiss. Special.

The kiss wasn’t long, but it felt long. In a good way, of course.

You were the one to pull away first, eyes opening back up to look at Wesker. You had nothing to say, and instead, let your eyes do the talking. Wesker cracked a smirk, giving your cheek a pinch. You yelped, hand coming up to rub the reddening spot as you watched him turn away from you and walk to his car. “Remind me to do that again, yes?” He said as he unlocked the car door. He gave you one last look, a hint of a smirk still on his lips, before getting into his car, starting the engine, and driving off after buckling his seatbelt.

You’d remind him in a heartbeat, come Monday after work.

#albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #resident evil #x reader #fluff #reader

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unanimousgolddd · 2 months ago

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Main Masterlist

Hello, I'm Heavenly and the following list is the fandoms I'm interesting in writing. The list will grow as I adopt new interests like Batman adopts another Robin.

Warning:

- There won't be many works yet as I'm essentially a newbie to writing public works. - Many of the things I do early on also will be experiments and things will change (like fonts and styles to see what works best). - I have an infrequent posting schedule so I may just disappear sometimes but I will try to be somewhat consistent - You can request anything anytime, it's always open (but that doesn't guarantee I'll do anything immediately of course and please don't harass me if I don't respond, I'm lwk forgetful) (and try to keep requests mostly sfw for the mean time while I make other changes to this post on what I will/won't allow)

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Call of Duty

D.C

Detroit Become Human

Dune

Invincible

Marvel

Mortal Kombat

Silent Hill

Star Wars

Supernatural

Resident Evil

(these will soon be links dw ^)

#heavenly's main masterlist #-ˏˋ navigation ˊˎ

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unanimousgolddd · 3 months ago

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Bad Day, Worst Day.

Update: I’ve finally gotten the courage to rewrite my hot, flaming trash of a fanfic ("You're alright, I've got you") I posted so long ago because I’ve gained motivation to write again, so here's the better version.

TW: angst w/fluff???, (possibly cringe), Wesker is possibly a bit oc, Reader is an assistant scientist working for Wesker in Umbrella/pre-Resident Evil 1, GN!Reader, Reader has a fear of needles, some vulgar language (literally just shit and asshole).

Word Count: ~2.7k

Summary: Being late and getting scolded for it can make for a bad day, but when you add a little bit of sabotage from a jealous scientist with chemicals and a cold boss, it turns the day into something officially horrible. But lucky for you, you grow a little bit closer to Dr. Wesker in the process.

Pt. 2

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You woke up on time, 5:30 A.M. sharp, and showered a few minutes after getting up. Afterwards, you did your hair and got dressed. Your bag, shoes, and coat lay downstairs like usual. You made yourself something to eat, just so you wouldn’t starve for the next few hours. Before leaving your apartment, you brushed your teeth and quickly gathered your things.

Things were going well until traffic decided to do its job at a quarter to eight (7:45), but it was alright. You were still on time, just not as early as you would have liked to arrive at work. Parking a country mile from the building because you didn’t arrive early enough wasn’t as okay as the traffic. However, you weren’t late.

But then, the new security had wasted ten minutes at the entry of the underground labs by insisting “you had to show your proof of employment”. Not wanting to cause any trouble, you complied and dug out your ID and any possible items from your bag that said you worked at Umbrella. Now, realizing you were running late, you traversed the long and bleak corridors with haste. Finally, you arrived at your desk with a sigh, only to be fifteen minutes late, and Dr. Wesker was waiting a couple of feet away from you, sitting at his own desk. He didn’t look up from his research papers, too busy but not busy enough to give you a scolding for being late. And you didn’t dare to give him a snarky reply, your frustrations beginning to stack on top of one another.

It only slowly got worse. It wasn’t long until Dr. Wesker had ordered you to print files from the latest Tyrant experiment data. Without missing a beat, you went to the office room, which felt halfway across the building. Next thing you knew, the printer stopped working, as if wanting to worsen your day. You fixed it, thankfully (only after ten minutes of trying), and printed the test data pages. With a well-deserved exhale, you gathered the papers and made your long trip back to his office.

Making a turn to the right, only a few feet from his office, you suddenly collided with Dr. Maria and caused whatever she was holding to spill all over you. “Oh, my God! I am so sorry!” She quickly apologized, however, the emotions in her words didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t feel sorry for shit.

You grimaced at the cold feeling of the liquid chemical coating your shirt and sleeves. You had just gotten that shirt, too.

"Thanks for the bath, Dr. Maria…" You said with a short sigh. You decided not to say another word, choosing to keep your peace.

"Please forgive me," She pleaded before walking off with the container that once had liquid in it. You failed to notice that papers, which had fallen out of your hands due to your collision, were now in hers.

You shook your head, glancing over your shoulder at the woman. You never quite liked her, having taken note of her frequent attempts to sabotage others (specifically you) whenever she had the chance. She’s always exhibited this type of behavior since you’ve been promoted to Dr. Wesker’s assistant. She was quite jealous (how stereotypical).

But at the sudden feeling of a burning sensation on your neck, face, and stomach, the chemical had seeped into your clothing, you rushed to the bathroom. Now standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you quickly took off the lab coat and tossed it in the contamination bin. Finally, having a clearer view of where your skin came in contact with the chemicals, you saw how irritated it had become. It was as if you were experiencing hives or a skin rash. Your shirt had to go too, and it was also tossed in the bin.

Whatever the chemicals were, it was obvious Dr. Maria had done this on purpose.

Running your hands under the faucet, you splashed water onto your face and used the soap and several pieces of paper towel to clean your skin the best you could. You only had five more minutes until you had to return to the lab.

The water was cold, and it helped slow the irritation of your skin, easing the burning sensation. However, the redness didn’t disappear immediately. You shook your head as you made a silent joke to yourself about how you looked like you were having an allergic reaction. You made use of the extra shirt and lab coat that were in the closet next to the sink. The shirt and coat were a few sizes too big, the shirt occasionally readjusting itself incorrectly on your shoulders. However, both articles of clothing had to do for the rest of the day.

With another sigh, you walked out of the bathroom and headed back to Dr. Wesker’s office. You hesitated in opening the door, trying to give yourself at least another moment to prepare for another scolding.

Eventually, you stepped back into the quiet space and glanced over at Dr. Wesker, who was going over files with his back turned to you.

Dr. Wesker was a handsome man, undeniably, even with the pair of sunglasses he wore constantly. Although he gave an air of unapproachable, he was ambitious and intelligent and always seemed to do every action meticulously and purposefully. This in itself was attractive. Or perhaps, it was his coldness, his ranking over you, that attracted you to him (or maybe it was just his face that was the most attractive thing).

"You're back," He said without looking, "I was wondering when you would get here." He finally looked up, and he didn't seem happy. Although he never seemed happy.

You swallowed, fingers adjusting the collar of the shirt for the third time. The darn thing kept moving. "I'm sorry, I had to take care of something… I promise it won't happen again, Dr. Wesker." You said, and he only sighed in response.

"Dr. Maria gave me the files… I recall assigning you to give them to me." He looked at you through the black shades, and you promptly cursed under your breath. You avoided his eyes, feeling his gaze on her face, watching your reaction as if you were another experiment.

That's what she did. She spilled the chemicals on you just to give him the files. She was petty, but smart; you had to give her that.

"I'm sorry, I–" But you quickly started to get an itch all over your body, and it distracted you from completing your sentence. "I… I knew I dropped them somewhere–" You started scratching at your neck and arms through the sleeves of your shirt and lab coat. By now, you figured that you looked like a dog frantically itching at fleas.

Dr. Wesker, who began to move towards you as he called your name, was concerned. Grabbing the spare latex gloves from his lab coat pockets, he put them on, and his eyebrow slightly twitched. "Come here." He ordered. You glanced up at him before moving closer cautiously, hands still scratching your body. Once closer, he guided your hands from your neck with his hands on your wrists as his eyes observed your skin. You felt hot under his gaze, like you were exposed despite being fully clothed. You felt comparable to a muse, standing in front of an artist as they concocted their next art piece.

"Come," He said, moving away and walking to the laboratory.

You quickly followed, trying to resist the urge to scratch at the skin that burned. Eventually, the sensation felt painful, with your red skin throbbing. Tears that were a mixture of the subconscious reaction to the painful reaction to the chemicals, but also your frustrations towards today’s events, began to fill your eyes. However, you blinked them away to prevent yourself from crying. He pointed to one of the lab beds for you to sit before shining a black light on the skin of your neck.

"Is it anywhere else?" He asked, and you felt his gaze on your face again.

"Yeah. My stomach and arms." You said with a shaky voice. Your fingers twitched, urging you to scratch at your skin once more.

He gestured for you to take off the lab coat and the shirt. You took off the coat, which he tossed in a bin. But when it came to your shirt, you hesitated, but with the weight of his expectant gaze, you pushed your shirt up. Wesker made no indication he was bothered by the sight of your stomach, simply touching the irritated skin of your stomach like a doctor would.

"Hmm…" He hummed. You hissed as the burn sensation flared, sending you to the brink of shedding tears. Usually, you wouldn’t cry this easily. Working under Dr. Wesker made you develop thick skin. However, after being late and scolded for being so and having an unknown liquid spilled all over you, your frustrations were bound to reach a boiling point. You closed your eyes, embarrassed about the very idea of crying in front of your boss, and in pain. You could hear him sigh as he rummaged around the room, searching for something. "I believe you have side effects from a poison ivy liquid." He said, somewhere around the room. "You're lucky, we have a solution to your problem…"

You slowly opened your eyes and immediately, your gaze landed on the small bottle and container in his hands. Wesker opened the container, now wearing a fresh pair of black latex gloves, he prepared a syringe. Anxiety rose at the sight of the needle. It was ironic that you took a job at a pharmaceutical company with a fear of needles. You swallowed nervously, eyes shifting from the syringe in his right hand and the pair of shades that kept the color of his eyes from you.

“Why a syringe?” You asked, trying to mask your fear. However, your flinch when he came closer was too obvious, and the little creases in between his brows softened just a little. “Afraid of a little needle?” He asked. You couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or not.

He gave another sigh. He placed the needle back down in the metal tray, his hands moving to unbutton the top of the big shirt. You kept your eyes on his hands, watching as his fingers slipped the collar off your left shoulder to expose the deltoid part of your arm. You refused to look too much in his gentle touch. "Relax. You’ll be fine." He said to try and ease you. He gently turned your head away from your left shoulder, knowing if you saw the needle again, you’d completely object against getting a shot.

Closing your eyes, you soon felt the prick of the needle on your shoulder. Once the syringe was empty, he removed the needle and discarded it in the sharps bin. A moment later, he placed a bandage where the needle had entered before rubbing your shoulder, gaze on your face as you tried to ignore the burning and itching sensation. However, minutes prior, without your acceptance, your tears had begun to fall, frustrations from the day pouring out. Uncharacteristically of him, he had begun to shush you, gloves off his hands, and thrown them in the trash as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. Surprisingly, his fingers were soft, like he had been using a hand lotion.

“Why the tears?” He asked quietly. He stiffened when you leaned forward, head resting just below his chin. But eventually, he wrapped his arms around you loosely. It was obvious he wasn’t touched often. You clung onto him, like how a child would to their mother. It was unprofessional to do that, but you didn't care anymore. And eventually, you explained everything to him, from the early morning traffic and hold up at the entrance of the underground laboratories to Maria spilling the God awful substance onto you. He stayed quiet, proving to himself to be a good listener.

And when you finally eased, the tears drying on your cheeks, he separated from you. He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about Dr. Maria. No assistant of mine will be distracted from the work I give them, yes?” He said before he turned. You quickly redressed yourself, buttoning up the white shirt before getting off the bed. “Take the rest of the day off. I believe you…” He paused, looking over his shoulder at you. “Earned it.” If you hadn’t been staring at him for a moment, you wouldn’t have noticed the small quirk of the corner of his lips. And then, Dr. Wesker was out of the room, leaving you alone.

You best believe you took the chance of the day off. You treated yourself to a nice hot shower at home, scrubbing away the day (and the chemicals) off before spending time in your bed, watching TV shows you needed to catch up on as you ate dinner. The itching and burning had left hours ago, and now the redness had finally disappeared by the time you went to bed. After that day, things felt oddly uneventful. It wasn’t until a week later, you decided to confront Dr. Wesker.

“Did you do something to Dr. Maria?” You asked, standing in front of him with your arms crossed. He didn’t look up from his computer. A moment later, almost fifteen seconds later, he responded.

“What makes you believe I did something?” He asked a question of his own, fingers typing away quickly. Your eyes narrowed at the blond man.

“I haven’t seen her in a week, ever since she spilled those chemicals on me. It’s unlike her, she takes every opportunity to make my life hell.” You said. “And, last week, you told me not to worry about her.” You reminded him, shifting your weight from your left foot to your right.

He hummed. “Yes, I did. And yet, now you’re worrying about her.” He said, finally tilting his head up to look at you. He clasped his hands in front of him, the lid of the laptop folded at a forty-five-degree angle. His attention was finally on you now, it was what you wanted, yet it felt too much at the same time. You took a conscious breath. “Just admit you did something to her, Wesker.” You persisted, keeping your gaze locked on him. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, head tilting to the left.

“When I said no assistant of mine will be distracted from the work I give them, I meant it. Dr. Maria proved to be a distraction, and she needed to be removed.” Wesker said bluntly. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Are you suggesting you fired her? Just for me?” You asked. You swallowed as he stood from his desk, making his way around the wooden furniture and standing tall in front of you. So close yet so far. There was at least a foot in between you both, yet, if you just moved half that distance, it would make the space seem like you were inches from his person.

“I wouldn’t say I was suggesting the idea that I fired her…” He muttered, gaze locked onto your eyes. Half of you wanted to look away from the sunglasses, another wanted to continue to hold his gaze for as long as you could. “I merely moved her to a different department where Dr. Maria is more useful.” He said plainly.

“You can’t just do that, Wesker–” You objected immediately. His left brow quirked.

“Why not? She proved to be a distraction to your work and a danger to your well-being.” You fell silent at this.

“Besides, I like you better when you’re not crying your eyes out because of some jealous woman.” He said before he suddenly turned, moving back to his seat at his desk. Slack-jawed and wide-eyed, you stared at him as he resumed his typing. But for a moment, you could’ve sworn his lips were curled in a satisfied smile.

Maybe, just maybe, your boss wasn’t a total aloof asshole.

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #resident evil #fluff #angst

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