The Wife, the Lover, and the Bastard Son - Part 4
Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (he'll be in the next part)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (You are here)
Summary: Your past comes back to haunt you in more ways than you thought possible.
Contents: Major spoilers for RE6, canon typical violence/swearing, mentions of blood being drawn, improper use of a syringe as an improvised weapon, angsty Jake content, angsty plot content, descriptions of blood and violence, dialogue heavy chapter. Reader is referred to as 'Doc' and is the wife of (dead) Albert Wesker and is a former Umbrella scientist.
a/n: Hey peeps. It's me ya boi. I regret nothing for the events that are about to unfold. Thanks for reading :)
w/c: 10.8k+
There is no feasible way out of the cell that you’re confined in. After an indiscernible amount of time being unconscious from the gas released in the specimen room, you woke up here. As far as prisons go, it’s not half bad; a spacious white chamber with a basic cot with white sheets in the middle of the room. In the corner across from it is a security camera with a red light. What makes this room different from your handful of previous kidnapping quarters, are the metal shutters to the right of the entrance to the room that takes up the entirety of the wall. Given the room you were in reminded you of chambers for infected test subjects, there was a likely chance you were being observed through the camera on the other side of the wall.
There’s a second difference as well. You woke up with the crook of your arm wrapped in gauze and a cotton swab. These people had drawn blood from you while you were knocked out. Probably to test if you were compatible for the new virus you’re sure they’re making.
All you can do is wait and see if you’re right.
You aren’t too worried about your involuntary confinement. Not yet anyway. These people evidently want you alive and in one piece. You’re not too sure if Jake would be given the same courtesy though. If he was as skilled as he said he was, you would be willing to bet he was already long gone. If that boy had any sense, he would be trying to find a radio right now to signal for help.
You don’t have to wait too long with your thoughts. A short time after, you hear white noise hum from the speaker and the familiar higher pitched male voice echoes around the chamber.
“Good day, Dr. Wesker.” The voice is the same one you heard from the thin silhouetted man when you first arrived. He speaks in a slow, deliberate tone.
“Hello.” You answer back looking directly into the camera, keeping your tone neutral.
“I understand you had a little -detour- on the way to your room.”
“I did.”
“I would encourage you not to indulge in your wanderlust again, but you strike me as the type to take that as a challenge.”
You narrow your eyes at the camera and purse your lips. You don’t want to give anything away that would confirm the man’s assumption is correct. When you continue to be silent, the man speaks again.
“Forgive me, we haven’t made a proper introduction. I am Youju, one of the head researchers for Neo Umbrella. Welcome to my facility.”
You can’t find it in you to even care who he is. It doesn’t matter in the grand scope of things. As far as you’re concerned, Umbrella (or Neo Umbrella) was still just a terrorist organization that made bioorganic weapons. You don’t care about the specifics of what that means unless it’s relevant to preventing an outbreak.
“Will you just cut to the chase?”
There’s a pause from the speaker. “Pardon?”
You sigh and cross your arms, still looking into the camera. “I’ve done this song and dance multiple times and I have no patience for the dramatics anymore. What do you want?”
Silence from the speaker. You let out an annoyed huff.
“Do you have a new virus you want to test out on me? An old one you revamped? I’ve been proposed with job offers before but I’m letting you know right now-”
“No, no miss. Your purpose here today is much more… personal.”
That can’t be good.
“So I’m here for revenge? You’re going to have to specify. Albert had a lot of enemies, and I couldn’t be bothered to keep up with them.”
“You misunderstand what I mean when I say personal.” You can hear an underlying tone of deviousness in that statement. Youju continues.
“Tell me doctor, how have I gone all these years without knowing Albert Wesker had a son?”
You stand in stunned silence. Wesker? A father? The thought makes you want to laugh in disbelief. The only thing that stops you from doing so is the confidence in Youju’s voice.
What kind of ploy is this?
Is he trying to get you to admit a secret you don’t even have? You spend the next few moments thinking over what the man had just said, when you hear him tap the mic, which results in your ears being assaulted with high pitched feedback and you reflexively covering your ears.
“I’m not a patient man, doctor. Answer me.” Youju’s words are drawn out with a mocking, sing-song voice.
You lower your hands and stare directly into the camera, making a conscious effort to keep your tone even. “We never had any kids.”
Silence falls over the chamber again. Long enough that you think Youju must have left. However, you hear his voice again, but this time you hear a smile in his words.
“… well this is quite an interesting development. I have someone I want to introduce you to. Mrs. Wesker.”
The tone in his voice clearly indicates he doesn’t believe you.
A deep metallic click sounds through the chamber before the metal shutters next to you begin to raise themselves up, groaning their whole journey to the ceiling. As they ascend, the shutters reveal a window to another room. Although surprisingly, there aren’t any Neo Umbrella personnel behind the glass. Instead, the panels reveal an identical chamber to yours, except it’s Jake on the other side of the glass sitting on the bed and leaning on his knees. The bottoms of his pants are covered in dark mud, a part of his sleeve looks scorched, and there’s a sizeable gash on his temple that had scabbed over next to his buzzed ginger hair. Blood that has long since dried had trickled down next to the large diagonal scar on the left side of his face. In other words, he’s much worse for wear than the last time you saw him. Whoever came into the room to investigate the alarm really did a number on him.
You see a discarded bundle of gauze with a slightly bloody cotton ball in Jake’s room. These people took blood from him too.
That grating voice over the loudspeaker interrupts your thoughts.
“Mr. Muller! I hope you’re finding your accommodations acceptable.”
Acceptable was a stretch, but at least your rooms had the bare necessities. You can’t say the same for your past accommodations with other organizations.
Jake shrugs and leans back, taking a look around the room. You hear his voice come from a hidden speaker near the window.
“Not bad, asshole. Feels like I’m shacking up at the Shitz Carlton.”
You would have smiled at that if that nagging sense of familiarity from earlier wasn’t still wracking your brain.
Where have I seen him before?
Youju quips back with that knowing tone over the speaker. “Even when corned in the lion’s den, you still have something witty to bite back with. Just like your father so I’m told.”
Jake’s carefree demeanor grows more rigid; shoulders squared, clenched jaw and sharpened expression. The man’s family is a sensitive subject.
“Where are my manners? Dr. Wesker have you had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Muller?”
It was hard to tell, but you could have sworn you saw Jake perk up at hearing your dreaded last name. You stare at him a moment longer.
“Can’t say I have before today.”
“Really? Are you certain?” The way Youju says that makes it seems like he’s trying to make you doubt an obvious answer to a trivia question. You stare at Jake, and he stares back, unblinking.
You turn back towards the camera.
“I would remember the scar. I haven’t met this man.”
“Interesting. Why don’t you look closer?”
The man from the speaker obviously wants to get some sort of point across to you, so you humor him. Sighing and shifting your weight, you turn to Jake. You look past the grime, the evidence of fights lost, and modern clothes.
You look at his face, his eyes…
You stop breathing.
You thought about what Youju had said before. Albert Wesker had a son.
Your mind races with a cacophony of scrambled thoughts over the next few seconds.
How did these people figure out Wesker had a son before you did? He looks like him. How did he go this long without being discovered? It’s likely Jake’s blood is special like Albert’s, so they’d want a promising candidate for virus injections. Who is his mother?
You don’t know where it comes from in the moment, but all you can picture is a displeased Albert holding a ginger headed baby, with his nice work shirt covered in spit up while another woman takes a picture and laughs.
It starts as a giggle, but the longer you think about this scenario, the more ridiculous the thought becomes and the harder it becomes to keep your shoulders still.
“So tell me doctor, what are your thoughts?” Youju replies smugly, waiting for your response.
You can’t help it. You start laughing like an insane woman. Jake’s existence was the cherry on top of an already stressful situation. Your body is exhausted from the journey here, you’re still processing the emotional whiplash from seeing and destroying the Uroboros sample, you’re mentally and emotionally done with everything that could possibly relate to Wesker and now you find out he has a son that isn’t yours? You just find the whole situation so absurd that you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.
It's clear that Youju doesn’t find your reaction amusing. His tone is cold and controlled when he speaks next. “Enlighten me Wesker, what could possibly be so funny?”
When you finally catch your breath, you look at the camera again with tears in your eyes from laughing so hard.
“This… establishment is really scraping the bottom of the barrel for bright and promising imbeciles, aren’t they?”
Silence, then the sound of a throat being cleared.
“Oh really? And why is that?”
Youju’s voice is flat. Controlled. You had struck something sensitive, and you intend to use it to your advantage to get a moment alone with Jake.
“Because this is ridiculous! Albert Wesker? A father- his father? Are we talking about the same Wesker?”
“His blood sample suggests otherwise-”
“And how do you know that exactly?”
Silence.
You let out a deranged cackle.
“I think I understand now. You found this stranger helping me in the middle of your ocean getaway, you thought he looked like Wesker, and your only plausible conclusion was that he has to be my son. So you’re comparing his DNA to mine because Wesker’s genome is impossible to find. Is that it?”
Youju struggles to stay composed under a guise of false confidence.
“Well we… any reputable institution would confirm hypotheses by… conducting their own independent tests and gathering their samples directly from the source.”
You hum and step a little closer to the camera.
“You know, Umbrella used to check their homework before going through the trouble of kidnapping persons of interest. Just goes to show that the copy is always going to be a letdown from the original.” You made sure to look straight into the camera when you say that, and it has the desired effect.
“You…I-I’ll know you’re lying one way or another soon Wesker!” Unlike before, there was no trace of confident humor. Instead, the voice spits out the words with prideful fury.
“Then by all means, do it. Waste everyone’s time. Hell, I’ll even volunteer for another blood sample when it comes back negative.”
It’s silent for a long time until the white noise from the speaker cuts out and all you can hear is the fluorescent lights above you.
You hear a muffled voice on the other side of the glass. “Hey Wesker!” Youju must have switched off the window speaker.
You let out a sharp breath through your nose. You turn to the window. Jake stands there, forearm resting on the glass above his head and observing you like a slide under a microscope. “Like I told you before, just Doc is fine.” You respond, annoyed.
You look up at the camera and see its beady red light still trained on you. You look between the camera and Jake. No use being stealthy. You walk over to the window with a determined look on your face, already in problem solving mode.
“We both know that test is going to come back negative.”
“Uh huh… and?” Jake responds, unimpressed.
“Personnel are going to come back eventually for another sample. Make it count and make it hurt although based on your current state-” You gesture to Jakes muddy and burnt clothes. “-your technique needs some work.”
Jake scowls. “My ‘technique’ is just fine.”
“Then prove me wrong.”
It doesn’t take too long for your assumption to come true. After a long stretch of time that you try to fill by pacing your room, you hear several sets of footsteps outside the room. A moment later, you see two men in lab coats accompanied by one guard armed with an electric baton and one armed with a pistol enter Jake’s room on the other side of the glass.
Jake deals with them in a similar quick and efficient fashion to what you saw before when you first met him, except his moves are much more violent and incensed. Nothing like the cool and confident rescuer you first thought him to be.
The men in lab coats gesture for Jake to roll up his sleeve. Jake complies and one of the men puts a band on his upper arm to cut off blood flow. When the other man goes to do the blood draw, Jake grabs the syringe and plunges it into the man’s eye, causing to scream in pain and stumble back. The other scientist is frozen in fear as the two guards spring into action.
The guard with the baton reaches Jake first, but he’s prepared to duck under the guard’s wide swing and he easily kicks the guard’s feet out from under him in one graceful move. As soon as the guard’s body hits the floor, Jake wastes no time grabbing the back of his head and chin and forcing his neck to an unnatural angle, immediately making the guard go limp.
The other guard is yelling something in that unfamiliar language while pointing his gun at Jake, but Jake doesn’t even acknowledge it as he charges at him with full speed. The guard is only able to shoot once, barely missing his shot, before Jake unleashes a flurry of blows, his skill in hand-to-hand combat evident in the way he dodges all the guard’s attempts at defense with ease.
While Jake is busy with the other guard, the remaining scientist finally comes to his senses and begins to run out of the room. But by the time he makes it to the door of Jake’s chamber, Jake has already disarmed and shot the other guard in the head. By the time the scientist opens the door, Jake has already lined his shot up perfectly and shoots the scientist dead in his tracks, blood leaking from the bullet wound on the back of his head.
The sight in the other room is grisly, but nothing you’re not already used to from the lifestyle you’ve lived. Once the last scientist is taken care of, you knock on the window to get Jake’s attention. He turns to you, breathing heavily and ripping off the rubber armband from earlier.
“Grab all their keycards! Can’t hurt to have them just in case.”
Jake nods and grabs the keycards from all the bodies, then exits the room. Shortly after, there’s a ping from your door and it opens to reveal Jake on the other side of it.
“Let me see?” You request, briskly walking outside the room and holding out your hand for the keycards. Jake plops them in your hand, looking at you closely. You ignore it and flip through the keycards, trying to discern security level but failing because the only difference between the two are the colors; red for the scientists and black for the guards. You halve them and give one of each back to Jake, which he pockets. He’s still holding the pistol he got from the guard at his side.
“Guess we’ll find out which have higher clearance when the time comes.”
Jake is still looking at you with that analyzing expression. “So you-” Jake is interrupted by an ear piercing alarm and the room is bathed in a foreboding red light.
“Time to move!” Jake grabs your upper arm before you can protest and runs out a door and down the hallway, half dragging you behind him while you struggle to keep up with his pace. You don’t know where you’re running to and Jake doesn’t appear to know either. You both keep running until you reach a four-way hallway where the alarm isn’t as loud and the lights are normal. Jake pauses, taking a moment before deciding where to run. You take the opportunity to yank your arm back, rubbing away the sting of Jake’s harsh grip.
“Wait, why aren’t there any guards? Or people?” You say, not quite sure where to go. Maybe it’s residual memories from working at Umbrella, but seeing the nearly identical hallways so empty is setting off alarm bells in your head.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Jake replies, irritated, taking a few steps to look down one of the hallways trying to decide where to go while he holds his pistol defensively, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.
“There’s no people! You don’t find that weird?”
“We’ve got bigger problems right now!” Jake snaps, looking at you with a cold stare. Not a second later, the ear-piercing alarm cries overhead and the lights flick to red.
“We’re going left.” Jake says, running down the left hallway with you tailing right behind him. As you’re running, you notice the grating on the floor.
You realize it’s like the flooring in the specimen room, and suddenly more details about this place make sense.
There’re no people around because they use the knockout gas as a security measure.
The guards wear gas masks so they don’t lose consciousness during breaches.
The alarms and lights warn employees to get to a safe place or avoid the area.
Unfortunately, you put all of this together in the middle of the hallway when the security doors at both ends light up red, rise up from the floor, and close with loud metallic clicks. You hear loud hissing from below you, and you realize with dreaded clarity that the hallway is starting to fill up with gas.
You quickly scan the hallway and see a door with a red marking on it like the one on the scientist keycard.
“Red door on your right! Move it!” You command, already running to the door, keycard in hand.
You don’t need to tell Jake twice. Jake wastes no time dashing into the suggested room once you scan the card. You follow Jake into the room right on his heels. The second you’re through the threshold of the door, you scan the keycard to close the door and engage the emergency lock, emergency protocols drilled into your head from your time at Umbrella taking over. The door beeps and hisses shut just in time to cut off the gas from invading the room you and Jake just entered. The room appears to be some kind of office with several desks around the room. The alarm on the other side of the door is barely heard in this room. You’re safe. For now.
You take a shaky and labored breath while leaning against the door, trying to get your bearings.
Too close.
Your break is quickly interrupted by an accusatory comment from Jake. “You knew him well, huh?”
You stay silent and finally look at Jake. His expression is a cocktail of anger and frustration, even as he’s trying to catch his breath. You glance at Jake’s hand by his side; he’s gripping his pistol tightly and his face is grim and cold. It doesn’t help that you’re looking at Jake with an exasperated and annoyed look.
“You of all people should know why I don’t freely give out my last name.”
You give Jake a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ look and Jake tightens his grip on his pistol as he lifts it a few inches like he’s thinking about aiming it. A few seconds pass and Jake takes a deep breath as he sheathes the pistol.
“Fair enough. But I have questions.”
You let out a crazed laugh and start to feverishly pace the room, still in disbelief at the sudden appearance of your husband’s bastard child. “I’m sure you do! I’ve sure as hell got some!” Your tone comes off as angry, but in reality you’re frustrated.
“I’m not too happy he’s my dad either lady!”
“That’s not- ugh. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just-” You take a breath and try to relax your shoulders, so you don’t snap at Jake again. “The B.S.A.A. and I have a deal. I tell them everything I know, and I help their scientists deal with bioterrorism. In exchange, I���m supposed to get protection and they keep me in the loop. Simple right? But then-” You stop pacing and gesture to Jake. “-I get kidnapped, again, and I find out my dead husband has a whole ass… grown… child! In their organization! That’s a pretty major development if you ask me!”
You stop pacing the room and plop down in a chair and put your head in your hands, then run your hands through your hair. What else aren’t the B.S.A.A telling you? What isn’t Chris telling you? Did he know about this? He has to. You haven’t done anything to your knowledge to warrant them keeping something this big from you. Did they think you’d not take the news well? Take it out on Jake? Leak the information out of misplaced anger for Albert being with another woman?
“I don’t care what kind of bullshit deal you’ve got with the Bioterrorism Boy Scouts. I’ve got questions and I think considering everything, I deserve some fucking answers.” Jake’s steely look from the chamber is trained directly on you.
“You-” You stop. You’re about to tell him now isn’t the time and that you both need to prioritize finding a radio to call for help and come up with an exit plan, but you don’t. You can’t deny that you want to know more about Jake. He’s rightfully demanding answers about a father he presumably never knew. You know the B.S.A.A hasn’t been forthcoming about new information to you, so they probably haven’t disclosed much to Jake. You also know they won’t be too pleased about you spilling top secret intel about Albert to his son.
“You’re right. He’s your dad, you deserve to know. You didn’t hear this from me, okay? I don’t need more reasons for B.S.A.A.’s finest to dislike me.”
Jake silently looks at you, then nods his head. “Deal.”
You nod back. “Alright. You first.”
Jake leans against the wall, looking at you with a serious expression. “What kind of man was Albert Wesker?”
You look at him, confused. “I’m assuming you already know what kind of man he was.”
“I do. I’ve heard a hell of a lot about my old man, but not from the woman who knew him best. What kind of man was he?”
“An intelligent psychopath with a god complex.” You pause. “Well... the god complex came later. But still.”
“Intelligent? That’s not what I heard.”
“What did you hear then?”
“That he was crazy and he tried to destroy the world.” Jakes voice drips with disdain.
“Crazy and intelligent aren’t mutually exclusive traits. Are you positive that these people didn’t know who you were before they tested your blood?”
Even with everything that had just happened, you still couldn’t wrap your head around why you were brought here. To your knowledge, Neo Umbrella didn’t know Jake existed before an hour ago, let alone know that he was Albert’s son. How they knew he was Albert’s son is still unclear to you since his genome is highly classified information. The man on the speaker said your purpose here was personal but didn’t give any indication that it was related to revenge. What did he mean by that? How does this all connect?
“Hundred percent. If he was like that, why’d you marry him then?” Jake’s tone is accusatory, and a scowl that eerily reminds you of Albert adorns his face.
You’re annoyed with the one-word answer and his tone, but you keep your feelings to yourself. You know Jake has complicated feelings when it comes to his father, and he’s dead. You’re the next best thing when it comes to closure. After a moment you calmly and neutrally respond to Jakes question.
“When I first met him, I thought he was a very different man. Sure, he was stoic, cold and all business at the Umbrella Labs, but with me he was romantic, charismatic, and thoughtful." You feel like Jake’s gaze is piercing into your soul, so you look away and stare at the ground instead. “Three years I thought that. Then the mansion incident happened, and everything changed for the worse.”
“Romantic? Hmph. Yeah sure…”
You frown and let out a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping in the process, and you respond in a tired tone. “Has there ever been anyone in your life that you trusted with your whole being and they ended up being someone you didn’t even recognize?”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jake cross his arms and scowl become more prominent. Another sensitive subject. You move on.
“He was unfathomably good at making you believe he was someone else. He did it with me. He did it with his S.T.A.R.S. squad at R.P.D. He even did it to Umbrella. In the end, he was just a power-starved monster.”
“R.P.D? He was a cop too?”
You turn your head back towards Jake in surprise. You would have thought that Albert’s previous jobs were easy pieces of information to get ahold of, but then again, Jake may have not cared enough to know. Jake’s expression is still unreadable apart from his voice dripping with contempt as he asked that question. You keep your answer clinical and to the point. “Yeah. He was a scientific prodigy and worked at Umbrella as a researcher really young. Then one of his projects stalled and he became an Umbrella spy and worked in the U.S. Army and then became the captain of the Rescue Service at the police station. After that: bioterrorist.”
You stop and wait for any follow up questions. When Jake only continues to stare you down, you ask your next question.
“Who knows that he’s your father?”
“Couple of guys in the B.S.A.A. and a handful of government agents. Everyone else who knew is dead. What happened after the Mansion Incident? Between you two? There has to be more to that story.” Jakes expression grows darker and more serious.
The thought crosses your mind that you should lie about how you felt, but you have a feeling that you needed to be open with Jake. He deserves the truth, no matter how unpleasant the answer will be.
“I was devastated. When what was left of his team returned from that mansion, I simply didn't want to believe it. I didn't even know he worked for the R.P.D. before that day, and they’re telling me he led his team to die at a mansion in the mountains with a secret Umbrella lab I didn’t know existed? The whole thing sounded crazy." You stop and choose your next words delicately before continuing.
"You have to understand that I loved him at the time. I was in denial. I was mourning. I didn't know he survived the mansion until the Racoon City incident. He could have let me die in Racoon when everything when to shit but he didn't. Instead, he sent a mercenary after me to rescue me and kept me with him until he was killed."
Jake gives you a long look when you finish, his eyes fixed and unblinking. You can tell he’s digesting your every word, as his jaw tenses and his knuckles whiten from the force of his fists clenching with his arms are still crossed.
“… so he saved you?”
His voice is icy, and there’s a dangerous edge to his tone that you’ve never heard before. Each word sounds like it’s taking great effort to force out. “Why?”
A pang of fear goes through you at his change of tone. You hit something sensitive, and you don’t even know what it is, which only makes you more nervous. “I don’t have a good answer for that.” Your voice comes out softer than you intend, but you do a good job of masking how intimidated you are by Jake in the moment. Logically, you know he’s probably not going to fly off the handle and do anything to you, but his eyes and expressions are so similar to Albert’s that it’s instinctively putting you on edge.
Unless Albert told you directly, knowing the inner workings of his mind was a challenging task even for you. You’d asked yourself that question and reflected on a possible answer countless times over the years, and each time you came to a slightly different conclusion. On the occasional day where you really missed your marriage before the Mansion Incident, you thought he may have been fond of you in some way. On days like this, your theories were a bit more realistic. You were a means to an end.
Either way, Jake’s eyes are boring into your soul as he’s waiting for you to answer his question.
“At the time, I thought it was because he loved me. But now-” You pause for a moment, desperately trying to gather your thoughts to present them in a way that won’t upset Jake further. “-I have two theories. Either he saw me as an asset with my virology knowledge and kept me close just in case, or he just saw me as something that was his. He almost always used possessives when he addressed me. My darling, my dear, my love. That kind of thing.”
Jake remains silent and his body language still has that edge to it like a cord dangerously close to snapping. You opt to ask a more neutral question.
“How long have you known about Wesker?”
“A year. So he saw you as an asset? You helped him with his plans?”
“No! Fuck no. He definitely wanted me to, but I refused every single time. I still looked at all the lab results and things the he left laying out to stay up to date on what he was planning, but I never gave him feedback.”
“If you refused, why the hell did he keep you around?” Another accusatory, but valid question. Albert wasn’t exactly the forgiving type if he didn’t get what he wanted.
“I think he thought he could wear me down or change my mind eventually. I work fast. I’m good at seeing patterns and remembering small details. My guess is that he didn’t want to get rid of me if there was the possibility of me being useful.” You catch yourself becoming slightly defensive, so you make a conscious effort to reel your emotions in before you ask Jake your question. “Where’d you grow up?”
“Edonia. If you were so against helping him, then why did you stay, huh?”
You’re starting to feel anger boil up in you.
“I was just happy to have my husband back at first! I tried leaving when I realized what he wanted to do. I really did. But by the time I took off the rose colored glasses, I’d seen too much and I was either locked up or he had someone babysitting me so I couldn’t run off. And Edonia? Really? That’s a long way from the U.S. Is that where your mom’s from?”
“Why do you care, huh?” Jake snaps at you, fire in his eyes and nostrils flaring.
You’re slightly taken aback with Jake’s combative response. “Because if anyone finds out she’s associated with Wesker in any way, she’s going to be in danger and needs protection.”
“Don’t need it. She’s dead.” Jake’s face holds no traces of relaxed cockiness like earlier. His expression has morphed into an explosive combination of wrath and pain. “And you know why? Because daddy dearest wasn’t there to pay for her medical bills. He walked out and didn’t fucking look back, yet she still acted like he was this exceptional man who could do no wrong.”
The atmosphere of the room is thick with tension. Even through Jake is a few feet away still leaning on the desk, you feel small and defenseless sitting in your office chair. You feel like the energy in the room could snap at any moment, so you keep your tone sympathetic, but firm.
“I’m sorry about your mom. But you need to believe me when I tell you that you are lucky he was never in your lives-“
“Lucky? That psychopath sent someone to a city that was tearing itself apart to save you but couldn’t send a damn check to save my mom?”
You’ve been patient throughout this whole exchange, and you were resigned to be Jake’s verbal punching bag. But suggesting Albert would have helped Jake’s mother without consequences? That’s the final straw that inevitably makes you lose your composure.
“Did you grow up feeling loved?” The question is sudden. Blurted without thinking of what could come after.
Jake’s angered expression morphs into confusion. “What?”
You know you’re playing with fire with this line of questioning, but you don’t see any other option that will be as effective. “Did your mother… tell you she loved you, make sure you had your coat before leaving the house? Hug you goodbye? Tell you bedtime stories?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Did she?” You don’t back down. You need to make him understand.
“Yeah! She did!”
You nodded. “Good! You wouldn’t have gotten that with Albert. Far from it!”
“Oh yeah? And why do you think that Doc?”
“Is that your question?”
“Answer it.” Jake spits, anger boiling to the surface.
“Do you know anything about Project W?”
You take the silence as a no and continue.
“Albert was a product of one of Oswald Spencer’s projects, founder of Umbrella, headed by Dr. William Wesker. It was a eugenics-based plan to create a race of more intelligent, more fit more whatever superhumans. Your father was essentially raised in a lab.”
You pause to make sure Jake is following your words and keep going.
“There were hundreds of kids in this program. When they were adults, Spencer weeded out a group of thirteen including your father. All of them were given the progenitor virus whether willingly or unknowingly, and only Albert and another woman I’ve never met survived. Albert was the only one who gained superhuman abilities.”
Jake is silent for a moment, then responds, “When you say willingly or unknowingly-”
“Some of these kids didn’t know they were in the program.”
Silence.
“That is where your father came from. You want to know what kind of man he was? He was opportunistic and manipulative. I have no doubt that he would have used you as a guinea pig just like he was. He would have framed it in a way that made it look like he was doing what was best for you too. If he had stayed in your life, you would have been living in a lab waiting for him to shove a needle in your vein as a bonding activity.”
More silence. Jake’s expression is unreadable, but he doesn’t appear angry like before. His eyebrows are scrunched together and he looks at the floor, deep in thought.
“Jake?” You say, gently. He doesn’t respond.
“Jake. Please look at me.” You try again a little louder, and he turns his head to look at you, Albert’s - Jake’s - pale blue eyes look more understanding.
“Do you understand everything I just told you?”
“Yeah. I just-” Jake pauses. “I don’t know what I was expecting to hear, but it wasn’t that.”
You nod and give him a sympathetic look. “I know it doesn’t make it better, but I don’t think he knew you existed. He would have seen you as an asset and tried to find you otherwise.”
Jake doesn’t say anything, but he nods his head to let you know he heard you.
“Loving him came at a price. Be thankful for the anonymity you have.”
“What was your price?”
Everything.
“My future.” Jake looks at you with an eyebrow raised, so you continue. “Because of the relationship I had with him, it’s impossible to live a normal life. I’ve tried, but there will always be people trying to find me to recruit me or kill me because of that.” You say this off-handedly. You’ve become used to this kind of life to the point where happenings like this feel routine.
You and Jake sit in silence. Jake’s presence doesn’t emit that aura of anger anymore.
“That’s not fair to you.”
You give Jake a wry smile.
“It’s not fair that he’s your father. We can’t change the past. But we can try to make the future a bit less shitty.” You quip with a wry smile.
Jake chuckles a little at that comment, and his smirk finally returns.
“You’re not-” Jake stops, and you wait for him to finish, “-how I expected you to be.”
“…thanks?” You reply, not sure if that’s a good thing or not.
Jake snorts at your comment. “And uh… sorry I got heated for a minute there.”
You give Jake a dismissive wave. “Hey, it’s not the first time I’ve gotten my ass chewed out because of Wesker, and it’s not going to be the last. At least yours was warranted. You love your mom. I can’t fault you for that.”
“Appreciate it.” Jake replies, his smirk disappearing after a moment.
“I’ve got one more… personal question.” Jake looks at you, a dark intensity to his gaze.
You nod. ”Go for it. You deserve to know.”
“Do you have any children?” After a long, silent pause, Jake’s eyes lose their intensity and he gives you a small, sympathetic look.
You give Jake a sad smile. “No. No we… everything I said before about bonding activities? That’s not anecdotal. Just conjecture. Just-“ You gesture to Jake. “You.”
That I know of.
You clear your throat. “How old are you, by the way? I’m just curious-”
“You don’t need to finish that, I get it. Twenty.”
“You look older.”
“Mercenary work and a civil war will do that to ya.”
“Sorry I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s okay.”
You shift in your seat from the awkward turn of events and say your thoughts out loud. “Let’s see…” You do the math in your head. “That would’ve been ’92. I met him in ’95. We got married in ’97...”
“And everything with Umbrella went to shit in ’98.” Jake finishes.
You feel the side of your mouth curl into a half smile. “You’ve done your homework.”
The alarm outside the room suddenly stops, and you hear a hissing noise from the hallway outside. You look to the door, then back at Jake. “I’ll tell you more later. We gotta get moving.”
You stand up from your chair and check the panel on the door. Still red. It’s going to take a minute or two for the gas to filter out of the hallway. You look over your shoulder at Jake.
“Did you end up finding that sample by the way? Or a way to contact the Tokyo base?”
Jake frowns and checks his pistol. “No, but I have a better idea of where those things could be.”
You sigh and shake your head. “Better than nothing, I guess. Any theories?”
Jake shrugs. “Half this place used to be a military base and the other half an Umbrella lab that’s had some renovations. The old lab holds the old samples-”
“So the newer part of the lab should have the new samples and the military part should have a radio?”
Jake smirks and points at you. “If everything goes right, we’ll be outta here by sunset.”
The office door panel beeps and lights up green. You smile and slide the red card and the door swooshes open. You look back to Jake. “I like the sound of that. Let’s go.”
As you both walk back out into the hallway, you notice it’s still eerily empty. However, the security doors are still engaged at both ends of the hallway. You and Jake walk over to the door you were heading through before the lockdown. You scan the red keycard and it declines. You huff and scan the black keycard, and you hear the lock disengage and the security doors split open and return their respectful halves to the floor and ceiling. You look at the black keycard with a stern look as Jake walks though.
“Only guards can open security doors? That sounds like a shitshow waiting to happen.”
“You an expert on security now too? C’mon we’ve got a schedule to-”
Jake is cut off by a loud buzzer, followed by the security doors slamming shut so you and Jake are on opposite sides. Jake hurries up to the doors and looks at you through one of the small windows in the middle.
“What the hell? Try the card again maybe it’s a timer thing.”
You scan the black card again, but it returns an error message. You shake your head in annoyance, but then it turns into concern when you hear shouting and footsteps from the direction of the observation rooms you were held in.
“It’s giving me an error message. Try yours on that side!” You shout at Jake through the door.
You see Jake’s face as he scans the panel on his side but based on how Jake grits his teeth in frustration he’s probably not having any better luck than you. You hear shouting and footsteps growing louder. Jake notices and tries to pry open the security doors with his hands. You scan the red card again, but it also returns an error message.
“Shit! Jake, they know which cards we took and deactivated them. They’re no good!”
You throw down the cards and take a few steps back to get a better look at the hallway to find an alternate route or some structural weakness in the door arch, but you notice nothing. The sounds of guards shouting and running are getting even closer. Your only chance of getting out of here is Jake. He can’t be here when you’re ultimately discovered.
You hurry back up to one of the windows on the security door to shout at Jake. “You need to go, now!”
Jake ignores you and keeps looking for purchase on the door, but it’s too smooth to get a decent grip to pull it open.
“Jake!” You scold.
Jake pauses to look at you, scowling.
“They obviously want me alive I’ll be fine. You find that sample and radio for help. I’ll stall for as long as I can.”
Jake’s scowl on his face deepens as he tries to open the mechanical door again, but his efforts are fruitless. He finally slams a hand on the door and lets out an annoyed huff and looks back at you through the window.
“You’re sure you’ll be fine on your own?”
More yelling and bangs echo down the hall.
“More than likely, yes. Just be quick about it. I’d rather not be a lab rat if I can help it.”
Jake takes one more analyzing look at the door and gives you a curt nod, clearly not happy with the new set of circumstances.
“Don’t say anything that’ll piss em’ off more.”
“No promises, now go!”
You turn around at the sound of the opposite security door opening, and you hear Jake’s footsteps grow further and further before they disappear and are replaced with the stomping of a battalion of gas masked soldiers. A group of eight quickly block off your only exit and train their semi-automatic TMP’s on you. Seeing as you’re heavily outnumbered, you put your hands up in surrender.
As you do, a wiry man a little taller than you walks leisurely through the intimidating crowd of masked faces. He wears a suit under a pristine white lab coat and looks at you with cold eyes through a pair of square glasses.
“Where is Muller, Doctor?”
You recognize the lilting voice immediately. This is Youju. Your immediate impression is that he’s much too young to be the director of this facility. But then again, Umbrella is chock full of young prodigies. Time to buy Jake some time.
“I could care less about where he went. As I told you before, he’s not my son.”
“I see.” Youju walks a few steps past the line of guards towards you and looks at the mechanical door behind you, skeptical.
“Why stop here Dr. Wesker? Why this door?”
“Because your security system needs some work. It closed and it can’t be opened.” You reply, curtly.
“Then why didn’t you run?”
“I’ve been in enough scrapes to know when I’ve been backed into a corner.” It’s not a lie. Even though your main goal is to distract these people, you know when you’re beat. Especially when you have an overwhelming handful of guns trained on you.
Youju frowns. “You still haven’t answered my question. Where. Is. Muller?”
“I. Don’t. Know. We went our separate ways when it became convenient.” You reply condescendingly, already tired of answering Youju’s questions.
Youju narrows his eyes at you, calculating his response. “Very well then. Since you’re so keen on seeing what amenities this facility has to offer, allow me to give you a guided tour.”
“I’d rather go back to my room. I’ve had enough cardio for today.”
Youju waves his hand and the guards put their guns down, save for one who quickly positions himself behind you with his gun still aimed at your back. Youju gives you a chilling smile. “I must insist, Doctor.”
As Youju walks back through the crowd of guards, he announces one more command to the crowd of guards.
“Find the other one. Alive. Maim him if you must, but ensure he is brought to me in one piece.”
Not ten minutes later, Youju and his guard lead you deeper into the facility, seemingly with one destination in mind for your guided tour. Youju leads the way in front of you, while the soldier trails behind never once lowering his weapon. He seems to be leading you into the newly renovated parts of the lab. There are no windows into the many rooms you pass so you have no inkling of what could be going on behind closed doors, but Youju ignores all of them in favor of the main lab at the center of the facility.
He scans a white key card and a large lock disengages from the mechanism in the middle of the door, spinning until it’s completely free before the doors finally open to reveal another set of sliding doors. Youju scans the card again and enters with you and the soldier right behind him.
It's a room with several scientists checking over miscellaneous machines and monitors, as well as fridges with multiple different colored chemical substances. All of them periodically glance over their respective stations and into the observation chamber below through the window that takes up the entire expanse of the wall opposite the door. A handful of soldiers line the wall in the back of the room. Youju saunters in and stands by a monitor that flickers to show a different part of the facility every fifteen seconds or so. A microphone stands idly next to it. Youju trains his dark eyes on you, a barely noticeable sly smile on his face.
“Welcome to the inner sanctum, Doctor. I would like your thoughts on my latest and greatest project.”
You cross your arms defiantly and shift your weight with a bored expression on your face. “As I said before, I have no interest in any job you have to offer me.”
“I didn’t offer you employment. I only ask that you take a cursory look. I assure you, he will be of great interest to you.” Youju speaks in that same, know-it-all tone from when you were stuck in your quarters. Like he wants you to figure out his point.
Better yet, who’s ‘he?’
You roll your eyes and humor him.
You look over the consoles and into the chamber below. There are illuminated chambers filled with substances you don’t recognize and over a dozen machines tracking something you can’t discern from this distance. The cylindrical tank in the middle of the room is the focal point of the observation chamber. It glows with a foreboding orange light, illuminating the space in between itself and you. At first, you can’t tell what the tank holds with the light emanating from it shining in your eyes. When your eyes adjust to the light, one by one you notice features of the creature inside; you see the outline of a man. Then notice one of its arms is much longer and darker than the other. The scar tissue across its chest. Then, most devastatingly, disheveled, slicked back blonde hair.
Your heart drops and your annoyed expression shifts into something much more terrified.
“Where… that’s not…”
But it was. Behind the glass in the chamber below was the body of a mutated Albert Wesker floating in a liquid filled chamber. His chest and legs are overtaken by burnt scar tissue, but otherwise look about the same as the last time you saw him; although you don’t like to think about that series of events.
The bomber. The volcano. The helicopter that he almost pulled down into the lava with him. Any one of those scenarios could have easily ended with your death, the world ending or Uroboros in your arm. Not that the three were that different regarding the death part.
The last time you saw Wesker, he had mutated into the monster he had become on the inside. His snake eyes glowed red, black Uroboros burst from beneath his skin around his eyes, worms of Uroboros completely overtook his chest and arms, which he could stretch to great lengths, and he was altogether consumed by rage. Rage against Chris for besting him once again, rage against himself for underestimating him, and you were certain rage against you for betraying him.
You stare blankly into the chamber as the reality of the situation sets in: Youju went to great lengths to find Albert. You didn’t know how he could have found him after so long, but you knew this man had to mine through volcanic rock at best and perform an underwater excavation of a volcano at worst to exhume him. Whatever he has planned, it can only spell doom for whatever unfortunate soul falls in Albert’s wake. Your body can’t bring itself to move, so you stand frozen by the console of the observation room overlooking the chamber Albert is in.
“The union of Wesker and Uroboros is truly a remarkable miracle of nature,” Youju says smugly, relishing in your shock.
All you can do in the moment is gape at your husband in horror.
“There’s nothing natural about this.” Your voice comes out small. Rattled. Nothing like how you planned when you stepped into this room.
“Natural? That’s a matter of perspective, Doctor. We are seeing evolution in real time.” Youju is enjoying your torment, but there is a pit forming in your stomach that is screaming for you to talk sense into him. You know in your bones that this is a bad idea, but you can’t articulate it into words that will break through to the Director. You knew men like him. He won’t listen until it’s too late, but you try anyway.
“Whatever you’re planning is not worth the consequences you’re going to reap from playing God.” You still stare at Wesker’s peaceful, mutated face.
“I assure you it will be. Your husband is an incredible case study. He was medically dead when we found him, but you know as well as I do that the dead don’t tend to stay that way for long in our profession. Uroboros preserved his brain and nervous system better than any modern medical instrument you or I could have hoped to have at our disposal.” Youju explains with pride.
“Weapon, DNA, or emotional blackmail?” You reply cooly, still staring at Wesker in the chamber below.
“Whichever has the highest bidder. Although I think the value of a subject like him transcends material wealth, so I’ll hold off on an auction for now. I have more pressing plans first.”
You break your gaze from Wesker’s body in the chamber and look at Youju with a cautious expression, curious as to what he means.
“We know his brain is showing activity, but he hasn’t woken up you see. All the regular avenues for breaking comatose states have been exhausted.”
Youju turns to the chamber and puts his hand on the window thoughtfully as he speaks.
“Sure, we could harvest his DNA and easily make our investment in excavating him a drop in the bucket. As you’ve said, his DNA is one in a trillion. But it’s not just his DNA that makes him unique, it’s his mind as well. He was- is- the greatest mind manufactured by man. By Oswald Spencer himself. What I would give to speak with him! To know his thoughts on my research. To continue where Spencer was forced to stop.”
The Director looks away from Wesker and back to you, with a giddy look you know all too well. It’s a dissecting look of a scientist attempting to peel away the mystery of an unsolved problem.
“But then one of my researchers had an interesting hypothesis. This is not a regular subject so normal avenues are more than likely going to prove fruitless. Perhaps Wesker needs a familiar face as an extra incentive to chat with us. Someone who knew him much more personally than anyone else. Someone like you. We’ve already tried recordings of your voice, and they’ve yielded positive results, but not the one’s we’re looking for.”
“The saying ‘you should never meet your heroes,’ definitely applies in this case. You need to quit while you’re ahead. You’re inviting nothing but trouble by indulging this fantasy.” You warn, unable to wipe the look of barely contained terror on your face.
Youju tilts his head and gives you a mocking pout.
“Awww… what’s wrong Dr. Wesker? I thought this would be a happy reunion for you. After all, you survived him. He respected your intellect. It’s not every day that a genius offers his lover a place beside him in a new world. And don’t deny it. I’ve seen the footage of him offering you Uroboros on multiple occasions. I’m not a betting man, but I’d say those weren’t the only times he tried to convince you.”
“Director, you need to stop-”
“Not until I get what I want.” Youju’s gaze turns cold and he flips a switch on the console in front of you both. A red light above it switches to green. The guard behind you raises his gun to your head. Youju turns his face towards the microphone but keeps his eyes on you.
“Albert Wesker, you have a visitor. A personal visitor. Go ahead and say hello my dear.”
You avoid looking into the chamber and keep your mouth shut while staring down Youju. You would rather die than awaken that monster.
“Your wife is here to see you Dr. Wesker. Mrs. Doctor Wesker, if you know what’s good for you, please speak into the microphone.” The tone the Director uses reminds you of a car salesman; sleazy and said with a gritted smile. Attempting to get you to bend to his will no matter the cost if it gets you to sign the metaphorical dotted line.
When you keep your mouth shut, Youju motions to the guard behind you and you feel the cold steel of the muzzle of the gun on the back of your head. Your breath becomes unsteady, but you stay silent. He needs you. He wouldn’t kill you so quickly when he needs you. You’re sure of it.
“You know I’m not a patient man dear. Speak, or I will make you.” Youju spits out the warning, his patience already wearing thin.
You clench your jaw and stay silent. You fully intend to stay quiet, even though the urge to call Youju a dumb motherfucker is strong. You see a flicker on one of the cameras on Youju’s monitor. A figure. You weren’t going to pay it any mind, but even out of the corner of your eye you recognize the large scar on the side of Jake’s face.
Youju lets out an annoyed huff at your continued silence, currently unaware of Jake’s presence. “I wanted to avoid making this messy, but it seems you’ve left me with no other option.”
Youju turns around and starts to bend down towards a drawer below the monitor. You panic. Jake is your only hope in getting the B.S.A.A. here. You can’t let his stealth go to waste.
“Albert!” You spit out the name without thinking. You already feel sick to your stomach at your choice of action, but it has its intended effect immediately. Youju snaps his attention away from the monitor’s direction and back to you, then back to the chamber, then to a monitor off to the side that you now realize is displaying brainwave activity. His brainwave activity. You hadn’t noticed it before because the brainwaves were barely perceptible, only small mole hills on a nearly straight line. Now, like a rising tide, the red wave on the monitor grows in intensity along with your heartbeat.
Youju stares at the monitor with you in awe, then turns his attention to the chamber while speaking to you. “Go on. Tell him to wake up.”
“Albert dear?” You pause to take a shallow breath of air. The red wave rises higher on the monitor. “I need you to wake up.”
The more the red wave rises, the more animated the other scientists in the room become. Youju most of all. Everyone buzzes with excitement over their machines and data displaying on the screens, but all you can do is stare at Wesker in the chamber with a lump in your throat.
You have an idea on how to get the upper hand. It’s stupid, suicidal, and against everything your brain is telling you not to do, but if it works it’s an almost guaranteed way for these people to lock you in your room again until the B.S.A.A. can get here with proper reinforcements.
“Albert help me they have a gun to my head!”
Almost immediately, beeping sounds emanate from each and every machine in the room. One by one, every piece of machinery has warning lights on their displays and nervous chattering erupts from the scientists. The red wave on the brainwave monitor devolves into jittery valleys and peaks. You see Wesker in his water chamber twitching, and his peaceful face morph into an angered scowl that you know all too well.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Youju scolds as he switches off the microphone. He grabs your shoulder in a tight grip and walks you back closer to the door away from the window seemingly the only one not concerned with the sudden uptick in activity on the monitors and more peeved at your little stunt.
“That’s enough from you for now Doctor.” He turns his attention to the guard behind you. Take her back to-”
Youju’s command is interrupted by the sound of glass cracking and metal screeching in the chamber below. Youju’s eyes grow wide and he immediately rushes back over to the window. He turns his head to say something, but before he’s able to, a pipe breaks through the glass of the observation chamber and into Youju’s skull with so much force that blood splatters on you from across the room and you stumble to the floor in your shock.
All hell breaks loose. Some scientists scream, others duck and cover, a handful try and fail to open the door to the hallway, the soldier leaves your side and open fires on Wesker in the chamber along with the other ones in the room.
You can’t seem to escape from the bloodshed. No matter where you turn, more blood splashes across your clothes but you manage to keep your escape in mind: grab Youju’s white keycard to get out of the room. You do your best to block out the grisly sight of Youju’s head as you army crawl across the floor. The white keycard, now stained crimson in some places, hangs precariously from his belt. A black and blonde blur dives into the room from the chamber and the screams grow louder and more frightened. You grab the keycard and you crawl behind a large cabinet that got overturned in the chaos in the corner of the room and make yourself as small as possible by hugging your knees to your chest. You clutch the keycard for dear life.
Meanwhile, in the background, you hear Wesker spewing insults as he tears through the room.
“Ignorant cretins! Worthless, self-righteous chaff! Inferior good for nothing fools!”
Something in Wesker’s voice puts you on edge, and it has nothing to do with the fact he’s seething with rage or leaving a trail of blood and viscera and broken machinery in his wake. You can’t quite describe it, other than that it sounds wrong. The voice is Wesker’s, but the tone and intonation are just… off. Your Wesker spoke in a much sharper and eloquent manner. This voice is direct and garbled in some places.
In the moment, you don’t know which voice you’d prefer. You don’t have time to think on it when you feel a presence behind you. It’s only now that you realize the screams and cries of pain have gone silent. Your blood runs cold when you hear a familiar, yet unfamiliar voice in your ear that makes the hairs on your neck stand up.
“My dear? Oh, how I’ve missed you my sweet…”
You freeze. His tone is uncannily gentle. He’s so close, you can feel Wesker’s breath on your ear and neck. Everything in your body is screaming at you to run, but it’s like Wesker’s words have you under a paralytic spell.
“How dare they touch what’s not theirs…”
A wet, slimy and black tendril slowly makes its way into the corner of your vision and gingerly tucks a flyaway hair behind your ear. You can’t bring yourself to move.
You sense Wesker move his head closer to yours until you can feel the damp heat of him over your shoulder. Glass breaks on the other side of the room and he whips his head towards the sound. There’s one last scientist left. She’s trying to climb into the observation chamber, but she stepped on a piece of glass and now she’s gaping at Wesker in fear.
Wesker attacks her with the bloodlust of a wild animal, plunging his Uroboros arm into her chest and not stopping his assault until it reveals itself again when it pokes out through her mouth. She doesn’t even have a chance to scream. Only gurgle sounds of pain.
The grisly sight finally breaks the spell, and you bolt to the sliding doors and run the second the door registers Youju’s keycard.
You don’t stop when you hear Albert calling your name behind you.
You don’t stop when you see other guards and scientists coming out into the hallway to observe what caused such deafening, monstrous noises.
You don’t stop when you hear more screaming and gunfire erupting behind you.
You have no destination in mind when the hallways become unrecognizable.
The only thing consuming your thoughts is the fact that your psychopathic husband is alive, and that you’ve doomed the world because you destroyed the only Uroboros sample in existence to stop him in a misguided attempt to save it.
a/n 2: How's that for angst? More juiciness in the next part :)
If you've made it this far THANK YOU and sorry for this part being long I thought it would ruin the flow to split it up into two parts.
Tag List: @killerwendigo
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ CRASH LANDING (LN4)
pairing: lando norris x f!reader
summary: lando accidentally hits a stranger with his car — the internet can’t stop referring to it as a meet cute. (un)fortunately for lando, mclaren agree.
genre: comedy, fluffy
authors note: a continuation of the ending to beached! you don’t need to have read that to understand this, however it will give some insight to the mclaren matchmaker jokes <3 also in light of that, this is set a few races in the future! *oscarsgf user refers to the character in beached!
*faceclaim: keeahwah on ig (but please imagine her as you see fit!)
landonorris posted a tweet ੈ✩‧₊˚
tmz posted a tweet ੈ✩‧₊˚
landonorris posted tweets ੈ✩‧₊˚
lando’s texts with y/n ੈ✩‧₊˚
landonorris just posted ੈ✩‧₊˚
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landonorris practicing safe driving
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user you are so unserious sir
user SOOOO IS THAT THE GIRL HE HIT BC
user no clue but she’s CUTE
oscarpiastri @/fia look here
landonorris i will literally remind your girlfriend of your murder attempts when you first met
user it’s giving meet cute
user i’d read a fic on it
yourusername you literally drove off BEFORE I WAS EVEN IN THE CAR
landonorris IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I WAS DISTRACTED
user ASSUMING THIS IS HER???
user @/user CLICKING ON HER ACCOUNT IT DEFINITELY IS
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
liked by bestfriend, landonorris and 3,907 others
yourusername monaco recap🇲🇨 successfully didn’t get hit by too many cars!
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user AS IF LANDO HIT THE HOTTEST PERSON IVE EVER SEEN
user nah this is actually a full meet cute i’m sorry this is the shit you see in romcoms
bestfriend still can’t believe you didn’t take compensation but accepted a lunch date instead
yourusername can you blame me
user @/yourusername oh girl no one can you are so real for that
friend1 wait till everyone finds out you’re only there for another 4 days
user WHAT. i can’t have them separated already😶
user parasocial relationship with lando ended y/n is my new idol now
twitter reacts ੈ✩‧₊˚
yourusername just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚
[captions:
photo 1: lando paid for me to get my nails done !!!
photo 2: :D
photo 3: ur all romanticizing my life rn but this is my view in a fancy ass restaurant]
texts with your best friend ੈ✩‧₊˚
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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yourusername final days in heaven. i’ll miss so much about this place
👤 tagged bestfriend, landonorris
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user wait she doesn’t live in monaco?? she’s leaving??? just after i’ve gotten attached to her and lando???
bestfriend please come back to visit asap i cannot go too long without my y/n cuddles
landonorris seconded
user um lando sir,,, seconded the whole thing? cuddles included?
user this cannot be the end of the meet cute i refuse to
landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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landonorris safe to say i’ve had a pretty good break between races
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user a whole post dedicated to her with THAT caption? oh yep they’re whipped
user please tell me y’all are going to stay in contact?
user my heart is shattering already
mclaren 🧡
user MCLAREN PLEASE YOU’VE DONE IT ONCE BEFORE
texts with lando ੈ✩‧₊˚
mclaren interview ੈ✩‧₊˚
[transcript:
o: safe to say you’ve had a pretty interesting break before this race
l: hey let me remind you what happened for you over winter break!
o: okay but i didn’t literally hit my girlfriend with my car!
l: oh so you finally asked her out officially?
o: stop deflecting!
l: okay okay! yeah safe to say i had a nice time. always need a bit of a change in life!
o: so how are things going now?
l: (awkwardly) well you know how it’s… yeah
o: ah i get it. quite literally been there done that got the t shirt. but hey you did say all that when i got my big moment about mclaren—
l: no no no don’t give them any ideas! they’re listening!]
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mclaren the boys are back! don’t forget to check out the new interview on our channel where lando and oscar talk all things hopes for the second half of the season, workouts and… girls?
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user mclaren. mclaren look at me. you know what you have to do
mclaren 👀
user when oscar asked him about y/n… i wanted to cry he looked so sad are things over between them?
oscarsgf @/oscarpiastri you’re such a gossip
oscarpiastri you love me for it
oscarsgf @/oscarpiastri you know what i’m thinking?
oscarpiastri @/oscarsgf plotting?
oscarsgf @/oscarpiastri plotting!
user what on earth is going on…
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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yourusername lately :)
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user you are so ! gorgeous !
user i can see why lando is obsessed
user speaking of… where is our favorite brit in the likes☹️
oscarsgf pretty girl!!!
yourusername oh?!? thank u cutie!!!
user ^ oh their plotting is in progress???
mclaren you’d look good in orange👀🧡
landonorris posted a tweet ੈ✩‧₊˚
an email from mclaren ੈ✩‧₊˚
yourusername just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚
mclaren just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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mclaren it’s race day🫡
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user WHO IS THE GIRL
user IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS
user PLEASE TELL ME THATS Y/N
user LOOK AT HER STORIES ITS DEFINITELY HER
user SOMEONE WHO IS THERE KEEP US UPDATED PLEASE
user just posted a thread ੈ✩‧₊˚
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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yourusername i don’t know guys, do you think he’s cute?
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user OH MY GOD FINALLY
landonorris i will hit you with my car again
yourusername is that a challenge mr. norris?
landonorris @/yourusername oh you better run fast
yourusername @/landonorris well duh cause you don’t know how to do the speed limit
user i love them. i love them so much.
oscarsgf omg can we force the boys to do mclaren double dates
landonorris leave this comment section now
yourusername @/landonorris too late we’re already texting
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landonorris we are successful victims of mclarens matchmaking services
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user THEYVE DONE IT AGAINNN
user new fav couple fr
oscarpiastri oh how quickly you all forget me
user @/oscarpiastri WE COULD NEVER
user clearly i need to work for mclaren to get a cute gf
oscarpiastri @/oscarsgf is the second photo giving you flashbacks as well
oscarsgf they’re stealing our thing
yourusername thank you for posting the nice park date photo of me
landonorris well in all the others you’re mid cartwheel
mclaren glad to be of service🧡 anyone else? @/patriciooward how are you doing?
landonorris i’m gonna stop you right there
———————
a/n: WELL. hello friends. i said i wasn’t gonna post a one shot for a while, then this happened. i just hope its up to standard! i’m a little rusty in my writing considering everything!
in regards to new works, gonna be working on getting my wips out soon, and maybe popping some new smaus out at the same time as they’re easy and quick-ish for me to work on considering everything going on! do forgive me if i do some random family orientated stuff — pregnancy hormones are giving me baby fever for everything (is it still baby fever if you’re having a baby?)
let me know your thoughts in the comments/reblogs/asks — i’ve missed talking to you all sm! i have anon emojis available if people wanna chat too🤍
for the first time in a very long time,,, love, giselle xx
taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35 @treehouse-house @iloveyou3000morgan @scopeiguess @amaranthineghost @gwginnyweasley @hetfieldd @sweetbabygirlsworld @wittywhispers @dark-night-sky-99 @namgification @casperlikej @marshmummy @geniusalpaca
tags for this post: @the-untamed-soul @itsprashimusic @purplephantomwolf @jasminesacademia
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prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 4; ghoap x reader)
part 1, part 2, part 3
tags: dubcon/noncon, nsfw
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Much of Ghost’s behaviour is reactive. Oddly passive for the assumptions people often make of him. He doesn’t run from trouble, but certainly he doesn’t seek it out. Aside from a few rare deviations from the norm (running his father out of the city at eighteen, not breaking enough bones to count as restitution, and finally leaving home to enlist), that remains the rule.
The way Johnny mopes for days after parading his bird around base has Ghost nearly rolling his eyes, already exasperated. He should’ve known his puppy wouldn’t share well.
It’s worse than he expected though. Johnny mopes for a week straight after the fact, hardly able to meet Ghost’s eyes in briefings. He stares straight down at the floor pathetically, dragging his feet behind him when he’s dismissed. Price notices it right away, raising an eyebrow at Ghost after Johnny leaves the room.
“Trouble in paradise?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach.
“In the dog house, I reckon. His girl’s pissed at him.”
“Your doing?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Ghost replies smoothly, face giving away nothing.
Price is hardly convinced. “I’m sure. Nothing to do with you.”
Ghost doesn’t answer that. He waits until he’s dismissed and then takes off down the same hall Johnny just left, curious about wherever his boy’s slunk off to.
He can’t help the latent sadistic streak in him that curls up in pleasure at the sight of Johnny pouting and squirming whenever he walks into the room. Still, his attitude will need to be rectified soon enough—there’s only so much Ghost will tolerate, only so much disrespect he’ll turn a blind eye to. One day Johnny will look back and reflect on this, and appreciate the extent of Ghost’s magnanimity.
Still, he doesn’t enjoy being ignored. One week bleeds into the beating heart of the next and Ghost realizes that he’s had enough of the silent treatment. He’s given Johnny more than enough time to come to terms with their new situation.
He tracks him down to the armoury on a Monday evening after most of the other soldiers have already left for the day, back home or eating supper in the mess hall. It’s empty apart from the two of them, and when Johnny finally notices his presence in the room, his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t flinch at least. Good boy. He’s gotten better at being less reactive, less shaky about being caught off guard.
“Done for the day, sergeant?” He keeps it light to start, taking a step closer.
Johnny tenses at the approach. “Yes, sir.” The title would usually satisfy on its own, but it comes strained, polite but removed.
“Where’d you come from?”
“Layouts and gunners training, sir.”
On any other day, Johnny’s deference might come as a lovely note to end the day on, but not today. It rankles now, the edge of his voice sweetened by a kind of silent dismissal, not giving any more information than what’s required of him. Nothing like the boy who used to open his mouth and sing the world back to him. Ghost has earned his every thought.
“We have a problem, Soap?”
“No, sir,” Johnny grumbles, still not meeting his eyes. His mouth barely moves when he says the words, teeth all but grit.
No dealing with this temper tantrum like adults then. For all Johnny must carp and bitch to himself about the hardships that Ghost has put him through, he seems to have no desire to actually deal with the problem. That’s too bad. It would’ve been easy enough to talk it out like grown men.
They’ll have to come to terms some other way.
“Come. We’re fixing this attitude of yours now,” Ghost grunts, turning before Johnny has the opportunity to complain and marching down the hall towards the gym.
He hears Johnny make a sound like an angry bull before following him down the hall. The loud footfalls against the tile floor betray his simmering anger; it reveals to Ghost what he already knew intuitively. His boy still needs to learn to play well with others.
In time, this anger will fade into the ether, replaced by Johnny’s old doggish need to please Ghost, but it’s causing too many problems now to be tolerated. He hasn’t gotten to see the bird since the week before. Doesn’t even have a photo of his own to look at when he rubs one out. It would be less aggravating if Johnny were willing to spread his legs and let Ghost rut between his thighs, but they aren’t there yet.
The gym is empty as it usually is around early evening when Ghost opens the door, the lights off from whoever last used it. Johnny follows him sullenly, dragging his feet about it. Ghost’s eye ticks at the show of attitude persisting into this space.
“Lock it behind you,” Ghost says without looking back at him, crossing to where the mats are on the other side of the gym.
Neither of them are dressed to spar, still clad in their fatigues, but his blood cranks up to boiling when he turns around to watch as Johnny crosses the room angrily, picking up steam now as well. He comes in hot, not even bothering to suss out Ghost’s first move before launching himself at him.
Ghost staggers back a step at the hit, but he takes it in stride, shifting his weight and using Johnny’s momentum to throw him off, sending him sprawling. He’s quick to get back to his feet, but that moment of carelessness gives Ghost everything he needs. The next time Johnny throws himself at him, Ghost lets him get an arm around his leg and nearly grins to himself when he feels Johnny put all his weight into trying to flip him.
He knows strength isn’t everything, but there’s something to be said about the several inches and even more kilos he has on Johnny. That plus a decade’s worth of experience. Sparring devolves into a sweat-slicked grapple, Johnny’s shirt coming untucked and rucked up, his hair mussed. He tries to go for the mask, eyes gleaming with a wet, savage glint—forgetting decorum or tact, and just going for the most underhanded maneuver.
He pays for it when Ghost takes him hard to the floor, catching him with a leg sweep that he might’ve been able to avoid if he were fighting with a clear mind. Anger makes him sloppy though.
“Fuckin’ bastard—” Johnny grunts when he hits the floor, narrowly avoiding clipping his chin against the mat.
“Folks never married, so guess you’re right,” Ghost remarks, unbothered. Hardly winded even, only the lightest sheen of sweat on his brow, obscured by the mask.
His sudden divulgence makes Johnny falter. So rarely does Ghost open even a crack that the momentary honesty catches him off guard, giving Ghost the opportunity to wrangle him into a tight hold.
Pinning Johnny isn’t an easy task because the kid fights dirty when he feels cornered. Lashes out wildly with his fists when Ghost gets an arm around his neck and holds him in place, less precise than when he’s coolheaded, but still brutal, all raw strength packed behind his punches. He twists Johnny over onto his stomach when the boy tries to buck him off, slamming him down hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
“Gonna tell me what’s got you all riled up now?” Ghost asks, twisting Johnny’s arms behind his back to pin him in place.
He struggles in Ghost’s hold, trying to find a weak point. The search is fruitless. Ghost’s body weighs him down like a boulder pinning him flush to a dirt-streaked mountainside, forcing the air out of his lungs when he presses down harder.
“Ye cannae just take her from me—” he spits out, face flushed. He kicks out a foot, trying to free himself, but all Ghost does is shift slightly to press his shin to Johnny’s calf, holding it down. “I told ye she was different and ye had to—and now she willnae even fuckin’ talk to me. Barely texts me, willnae answer my calls. I cannae—I can’…”
His voice trails off on a hitch. Not quite a sob, but a frustrated, wretched sound.
“Held that in for a while, didn’t ya?” Ghost murmurs, holding Johnny down with ease when he struggles again, trying to wrench his arms out of Ghost’s hold.
“I almost fuckin’—almost just fuckin’ gave her to ye,” Johnny says, shame thick in his voice. “Thought maybe it wouldnae be worth…jus’ dinnae want a girl coming between us. But she’s—I told ye, Lt, she’s special, I cannae jus’—I cannae jus’ let her go. And now she doesnae want anythin’ to do with me.”
Ghost doesn’t bother pointing out the absurdity of that statement. As if Johnny could give him something that’s already his.
“Not trying to steal your bird, Johnny.” He taps Johnny’s cheek, a little reprimand. It makes him blink and scrunch up his nose. “What’d be the point of that?”
He forgets how young Johnny is sometimes, just now nearing the end of his twenties. Still wet behind the ears, all blood flushed and pink cheeked. Green still to the realities of the world and Ghost’s presence in his life (permanent, fixed; unchanging).
There isn’t a version of him that wants someone who doesn’t also want Johnny. Inconceivable. After everything that they’ve been through together, the root of him and what he wants is inextricably tied with what Johnny wants—at times, Ghost almost wishes he could live inside his head, just a constant stream of Johnny’s thoughts into his.
Johnny twists his head enough to glare over his shoulder at Ghost. “The fuck are ye on about? Ye grabbed her ass in front of God ‘n everyone, for Christ’s sake. Said your intentions loud ‘n clear.”
“‘Course I did. She’s got a nice arse, doesn’t she?”
“You’re really startin’ to fuck with my head, Ghost, I dinnae understand what ye—”
“You keep running your mouth off about trying to take the girl from you—I don’t need to take anything.” He stresses the word to be clear, forcing Johnny back down when he tries to buck Ghost off again. This time he stays in place, both calves pinned down to the mat, cheek pressed into the fabric when Ghost slots a hand into the scruff of his mohawk, forcing his head down. “Quit struggling—you’re not getting back up. We’re sorting this shit out now so you quit moping around base and giving me a fuckin’ headache.”
“Stop exaggerating—I havenae even opened my mouth around ye in days. I’m no’ doing anything to your head—”
“How the fuck am I supposed to think when you keep running away?”
The air hangs heavy in the wake of his words, the oxygen all but sucked out of the room.
“The two of you are mine,” Ghost says in a low, harsh voice, the sound making Johnny flinch against the mat. “I’m not asking for just one of you. You’re out of your fuckin’ mind if you think I’d leave you out of this, mutt.”
He’d sooner lose them both, but that’s another scenario that he’d never tolerate.
With some effort, Ghost tips Johnny over onto his back, holding him down before he can start to struggle again. He keeps his wrists trapped behind his back, forcing Johnny to arch his back off the floor, presenting himself. From his vantage point, it’s easy for Ghost to flick his gaze down and find Johnny’s dick pressed hard against the zipper of his pants, all plumped up from being pinned to the ground.
“Good, you’re already hard,” Ghost grunts approvingly, rolling his hips down to alleviate some of the pressure building up in his groin. “Haven’t come since she left the other week, I bet.”
Panic flares red hot in Johnny’s eyes, widening when Ghost settles deeper between his legs, his own hard cock unmistakable. “Wait—wait, Ghost—I’m no’—I’m no’—”
It would be a stretch to say that anything softens in him, but a part of Ghost does feel for the boy. He’s been around Johnny long enough to know his persuasion—strictly women with the occasional appreciative glances towards some men. An appreciation he relegates to furtive, guilty glances, holding it inside of him like a nasty secret that he’ll never part with. Too riddled with Catholic guilt and the ease of just playing it straight.
Ghost has no intention of making it easy on him though.
He tries to imagine what it might be like if he were on the other end, but for him it’s only ever been cunts and Johnny and the bird. Now just the latter two hold any weight.
His protests only last as long as it takes Ghost to unfasten their belts and zippers, fishing Johnny’s cock out first. The second his rough hand wraps around Johnny’s length, the words die on the boy’s lips, replaced by a choked off grunt. His balls are full enough to corroborate Ghost’s words—he probably hasn’t come since seeing his girl off the other day, too frustrated and upset to jack off, the ducts shut, working himself up into a frothy mess only for it to slip right out of his hands at the last second.
Johnny’s eyes roll back when Ghost grips both their cocks in his fist, slicking his hand up with Johnny’s precome. Sweat sluices down the sides of his neck. He looks good with his tongue tied up in knots, thoughts emptying out through his ears in rivulets.
Even with Ghost’s hand as big as it is, he can’t wrap it all the way around the two of them. Johnny’s come provides a nice glide though, lubricating the underside of his shaft when Ghost grinds up into his fist.
It spurs him into a kind of protolithic fervour, desperate only to come. The iron rich scent of blood and sweat makes Ghost salivate, eyes drawn to the tender skin of his neck, the flush now riding high, up and over his cheekbones. Lips bitten red, also swollen with blood. In a better mood, Ghost might indulge him, might roll up his mask and lick into the wet mouth hanging open deliciously, teasing him, but there’ll be time for that later.
He slurs out Ghost’s name when he comes, Simon ripped from his lips like it was dug clean out of his soul. His come splatters across his belly and shirt in thin, watery spurts, the wind knocked out of him again.
Johnny squirms when Ghost doesn’t let go of their cocks, hand still dragging up and down, mumbling that he’s too sensitive, fuck, lemme go, I cannae—
“I’ll stroke your cock and grab the bird’s ass whenever I feel like it,” Ghost growls down at him, at the end of his patience now. He pants out a ragged breath when his cock throbs at a particularly whorish moan dropping broken from Johnny’s mouth. “I’ll nut in her cunt and make you lick it out if I want. And you’ll fuckin’ thank me for giving you a taste.”
Johnny almost goes nonverbal at that, a leg trying to kick out weakly even though it’s still pinned down under Ghost’s heavy thigh. His dick twitches against Ghost’s, a valiant effort.
When Ghost comes, it settles in a thick, viscous mess across Johnny’s stomach, pooling around his belly button. It radiates hot down his back, the ache in his lower spine abating momentarily. Can only imagine how much better it would feel balls deep in Johnny’s ass or the bird’s pussy, a wet warmth clutching him tight, legs wrapped around his waist to drag him closer.
He’ll have that soon enough.
A ragged wheeze is pulled from Johnny’s chest when Ghost drags his cock through it, spreading it over his stomach. It’s worse when Ghost dips his fingers into the mess, a sticky blend of both their come, before bringing his fingers up to Johnny’s mouth, forcing them past his lips and over his teeth and gums. Johnny sputters at the taste, going cross-eyed to look down at Ghost’s hand.
There’s no time for pillowtalk or soft words though. Even if there were, niceties come out of Ghost’s mouth like a ring of smoke. Still, the thought of the bird not returning Johnny’s calls or texts makes him bristle, his annoyance renewed. His own disinclination to communicate aside—a waste of words as far as Ghost’s concerned, he says more with his actions anyway—none of this works if the girl won’t talk it out.
Probably pent up, the stubborn thing. He’ll have to sort that out too. It keeps him young at least.
“C’mon, Johnny,” Ghost says, rising to his feet. He dusts his hands off on his fatigues as if nothing happened, then holds out a hand for Johnny to grab. “Let’s go see our bird.”
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