What Are The Best Fanfictions You Know About Leon S Kennedy, Chris Redfield And Even Carlos Oliveira?

What are the best fanfictions you know about Leon S Kennedy, Chris Redfield and even Carlos Oliveira? 🥺

I want to read a lot of good fanfics! Don't be shy to even share your own works! 💞

Progenitor woman (part 1) - Albert Wesker x reader

Pairing: Albert Wesker x reader

Warnings: kidnapping, experimentation

Disclaimer: I’m french and even though I've been learning English for ten years, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :)

Request from AO3 : "can you do an age gap wesker/reader taking place during re5 where reader is the only other living person compatible with uroboros and he takes an interest in her?"

***

Young, 21 years old. A healthy lifestyle. A normal life. A normal family. Brilliant studies and honorable results. Maybe too curious for her own good.

For a few years, the number of DNA tests to find out about our origins, even the oldest ones, had been circulating on the Internet. Of course, millions of people had started to buy these famous kits, received by laboratories that analyzed the results and made them available to buyers. And even though they were making a lot of money from this trend to finance their other research, they had to find other sources of money... And that's why the Internet, especially the dark web, existed. For years, the sales of consumer data was widespread on the Internet, but for more commercial purposes... Less dark. However, some laboratories were selling their "patients"/"buyers" informations to other laboratories, in return for funding.

Thus, Tricell possessed millions of information, crucial to research, that algorithms were constantly working on, finding from time to time, the file of a person considered interesting by a whole set of factors. Every month, new profiles were drawn to the attention of Tricell and the virologists. This allowed Wesker and his teams to send out proposals to act as guinea pigs in the most secret laboratories. The victims would disappear without a trace. The pharmaceutical company's security and computer security departments worked so well that no one could suspect them.

Wesker had just shot his last lab rat, a 33-year-old Italian.

"The same age as your Christ! Come on, be proud, you look like the son of your imaginary God!" he had spat, with a sly smile. Wesker didn't believe in God. He was God. No one else. Only he had the intelligence to destroy this world and build another one.

After going through the disinfection area and washing himself from head to toe with the utmost care, he had returned to his favorite lab room to take a look at the algorithm. A few minutes earlier, the software had sent him a notification on his cell phone, to warn him it had found an interesting profile. And even if he didn't think he would discover anything more than usual, the scientist went there to find his ordinary place, where he would also take the opportunity to sort out his mails.

Once he was settled in his seat, he hurried to look at the notification. In fact, three profiles were interesting: two women, one man. When he stopped on the third one, he frowned, took off his famous sunglasses and made sure he wasn't dreaming. He reread the information retained by the algorithm several times.

She was young, healthy, and most importantly, her genome structure resembled his, so he felt his pulse quicken.

"How is this possible? It must be a mistake," he muttered.

Stunned and intrigued, Albert didn't intend to give up there, when an incredible opportunity presented itself to him. He had to find out more, find her, and get his hands on her. First, he had to contact the other lab and give them enough money to get even a first and last name , with a mailing address. With a little luck, he would also get a phone number and an e-mail address.

With a smile on his face, he picked up his laptop.

"The game can begin... I can't wait to hear who you are, Y/N L/N."

*

DAY 7

The evening had started so well. Yet, you found yourself in a room you didn't know, white, sterile, hospital like, strapped to a medical type leather chair. You couldn't move, your arms at your side and your feet secure enough to not kick anyone. Ever since you woke up half an hour earlier, anxiety had been building up inside you. You felt you were being watched, behind one of the windows you couldn’t see through, because it was so opaque. On the other hand, through the other windows, you observed people, in white coats, pacing the corridors, each one more hurried than the other. Obviously, you weren’t in ahospital, no doctor would have tied you up like cattle...

Unless you had hit someone and had a temper tantrum once you were here… you thought.

Someone had drugged you at that party. It was obvious. And that, even if you had been watching your drink every moment. Or maybe the friend you had trusted with your drink had betrayed you. In your eyes, it was the only possibility. With a lump in your throat, you waited for an explanation and tried to control your breathing, about to hyperventilate.

If you weren't in a hospital, where could you be? In a... laboratory? That would explain the white coats. At this thought, your heart rate quickened and cold sweat ran through your body, along with shivers of terror.

Then, after a few more minutes, a doctor walked past the windows, before entering the room, silent. He was tall. No, correction, he was giant. At least six feet tall. His blond hair was slicked back. Sunglasses were perched on his nose and prevented you from reading his eyes, though he didn't look convenient. His thin lips formed a straight line, devoided of emotions. He must have been in his forties, much older than you, but he was attractive, charismatic. He moved almost gracefully.

"Hello, my dear. Excuse me for the straps, my assistants are not the most... delicate," he commented, in a distinguished voice.

An eloquent voice, clear, almost bewitching. Yet, a dark aura was emanating from this man. He closed the distance and sat down on the rolling stool next to you while he watched you.

Wesker admired your features. Your body. You were a beautiful creature with a high potential. The only one who could, obviously, match him. You were perhaps the only other person in this world this compatible with Uroboros. If his experiments failed, it would be a waste, but he had no choice.

"What am I doing here?" you asked, panicking.

You tried to move for the umpteenth time, to no avail. Your eyes went down to his white coat, open to black clothes. His name was written: Dr. Wesker. Even in a panic, knowing a name was always a good thing.

"Y/N, has anyone ever told you how special you are?"

You shook your head negatively, eyebrows furrowed.

"Whatever. We're going to discover your potential. To do that, I'll start with with blood samples. My team will assign you to a room and-"

"I want to leave! I didn't ask to be here!" you cut him off.

"I'm afraid you have no choice, dearheart." he replied curtly, before turning to his equipment. He proceeded to draw blood like any other doctor, even going so far as to think your epidermis, where the needle had pierced the skin.

After collecting two vials of your blood, precious samples, the famous Dr. Wesker left the room without a word. A few minutes later, a team of men, armed with pistols, went to retrieve you before blindfolding you. They took you somewhere and locked you in a room. Miraculously, it wasn’t a medical room. The single bed was normal. There was a desk with pens, pencils and paper. There was a small flat screen TV on a wall. You had a sort of walk-in wardrobe, a bedside table and a bookcase with scientific books, but also fantasy novels. When you saw some of your favorite novels, your heart skipped a beat. As a bonus, the room had an adjacent bathroom, which didn't keep any dangerous or sharp objects.

You were smart enough to understand the situation... They had kidnapped you and weren't planning on releasing you anytime soon. Worse, they had orchestrated the whole thing from start to finish, spying on you to the point of knowing your tastes. Your thoughts turned to your poor family, who would soon be worried sick about your disappearance. Trembling like a leaf, you went to sit on the soft mattress and burst into tears.

What have I done to deserve this...?

No one entered your room, except for a man with a gun, a few hours later, with a tray of food in his hands, which he left on the doorstep. Silently, he left, making sure to lock the door.

With your appetite suppressed and your stomach in knots, you didn’t feel hungry at all.

You didn't sleep all night, far too anxious... So, you decided to take a shower and reread your favorite book.

DAY 8 (½)

The results were impressive. Fruitful. Albert had spent the night on the blood test and studied the results. Traces of a strain of Progenitor were present in your blood. Only a very limited number of people carried it in them, the majority of whom were dead. Of the Wesker children, only he and Alex were left. Alex didn’t have a child. How could you have come into contact with such a virus?

He had finally gone to sleep for a few hours, then the next morning he had picked up a breakfast tray and headed for your room, in the same hallway as his apartments in this huge complex built by Tricell. At your door, he took out a magnetic card, used it and the door unlocked. He closed it behind him.

You were sitting on your bed, a book in your hands, your meal from the night before barely touched on your bedside table. Your stomach had been empty for over 24 hours. You were watching him, your eyebrows furrowed, the anger visible on your face.

"Good morning, dearheart." he said, coming closer. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, while you moved as far away as possible, without bothering to answer. You closed your book and put it on the side, before crossing your arms. You obviously wanted an explanation. Who wouldn't, after all?

"I see you haven't eaten. You should get some strength."

"I have a knot in my stomach. You owe me some explanations, don't you?" you spat, squeezing the sheets between your fingers to the point of turning your knuckles white. You stared at this famous Wesker, whose presence exacerbated you as much as it awakened a strange feeling inside you. Your heartbeat quickened.

"As you must have guessed, you are in a laboratory, where we are conducting extraordinary researches that will change the world. Your blood contains something special, just like mine."

He leaned forward and moistened his lips, a serious expression betraying the sympathy he was trying to convey. And that, it didn’t escape you. You weren't drugged or stupid enough to think that this man had magnificent motives. If he did, he wouldn't have kidnapped you, far from it.

"You're about to make me laugh. I don't think you're a good person and I'm not special. Now, ask me the question that's bothering you. That's it, isn't it? An interrogation?"

His lips curved for a second, and then he slid the tray over your legs, to summon you to fill your stomach. Obviously, this meant that you were going to be flabbergasted and to avoid an attack of faintness, linked to a hypoglycemia spike, which was itself infused by strong emotions, you had to eat. Even if you wanted to protest and throw the tray in his face, you knew that an incivility would cause you greater problems. With a sigh, you grabbed your fork and knife, then stuck it into the Salted Waffles with Poached Egg and Bacon and a berry smoothie. You usually hated eating a heavy breakfast in the morning, so you'd settle for cereal in milk, or a hot drink with a light snack. You wondered if he knew your tastes and wasn't doing it on purpose to make your more angry and annoyed. After wolfing down half your plate, when hunger has taken over your stomach, you focus on him again.

"You're smart, that's a good point. I need to know more about your family. Would your parents have been subjected to any experiments?"

You nearly choked, eyebrows furrowed, and shook your head. Decidedly, this man had lost his mind.

"No. We're normal."

"I want you to draw me your family tree."

"At your service, Doctor Wesker! Together, we will save the world!" you mocked, in a high-pitched voice.

Despite your acid remark, he didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he ordered you to finish your plate and drink your smoothie. Then, he brought you a sheet of paper and a pencil. Under his examining gaze, you tried to go back as far as you could before handing him your paper. None of the names on your list seemed familiar, so he went off to his lab to do some research, leaving you alone, bored and with monumental worries.

For his part, Wesker spent the morning researching your ancestors to find out who could be the source of the strain that ran through your veins. Even though he felt no pain, Wesker knew very well that if he were still perfectly human, this puzzle would have given him a headache. Yet, he was a tenacious man, who never gave up and always found a solution to his problem. At this moment, that solution was called Alex.

----

What do you think? There will be other parts, but I don't know how many :)

Instagram : @carolinemertz_

AO3 : BetrayedWriter

May I please get a smut of RE4 Leon and an Australian GF? Where the GF always wears very short shorts because the heat of July is more humid in America than Australia? ...Sorry if it is too much....

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Warnings: smut + wrap your biscuit, please.  

Disclaimer: I’m french and even if I’m learning English for ten fucking years, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :) 

And of course, I’m sorry I made you wait so long... :(

***

For sure, Leon hated Spain. How could it be great like people keep saying? The only things he saw there were: bad weather, zombies/crazy people, giants, monsters, blood, guts, etc. Nothing fantastic! Now that he was in America, a few months later, he was under the sun, in his girlfriend’s garden. He tried to help Y/N with her gardening, but he was clearly better at killing BOW’s than saving plants and flowers… And now, the pretty little Australian was just in front of him, leaning over her roses, her butt up, her short fitting closely those two cheeks he liked to grab and slap… On top of that, she chose the shorter of all the one she had. The blond could only admire the beauty of her curves, her body, on which sweat beaded and made her skin glowing under the sunlight… Delicious. Sexy. Hot. Definitely, she was all those adjectives.

He was certain she kept doing this to make him hard, because the only excuse she found was: “July is more humid in America than Australia” …

More humid… My ass! He thought. He didn’t really believe her. The only humid thing he could imagine right now was her pussy, aching for his half hard cock. His member confined in his boxers, he breathed calmly, a half-ecstatic smile drew itself on his face. His azure gazed glued on her ass… His licked his lips to moisture them and exhaled.

Saying he wasn’t enjoying his holidays would be a complete lie.

And now, he wanted to fuck her.

Exactly like he did in the morning, a wake-up sex. Exactly like he did last night. Exactly like he did every other day.

Then, he stood up from his deckchair, came closer to her and slid his calloused hand on one of her rounded cheeks. He slaped it and she jumped, startled. She turned around, to punch him in the arm.

“You scared me! Sometimes, you’re a real asshole! You know that?”

“Yes, m’am, but your favorite asshole” he retorted, with a playful smile.

“Don’t smile like that, I just want to punch you more.”

“Just like I wanna kiss you and fuck you even more…”

The Australian woman shook her head, infuriated by his words, but a light smile curling her lips betrayed her. Of course, Leon’s observer eyes didn’t miss a single movement, he knew she was only trying to resist the urge to kiss him and to ride his rod like she seems to adore.

Suddenly, he grabbed her and threw her on his shoulder, getting back in the house he left thirty minutes ago. He let her fall on the grey couch of her living room, pushed himself against her, then glided his hands under her shirt. He refused to waste time. Then, he placed a multitude of kisses on the feverish skin of the young woman, her neck with thin skin, her chest covered with a lace bra. He hurried to unclip it, while the young woman busied herself with caressing his perfectly shaped chest, his protruding muscles. Her little hands got rid of the pants he was wearing, before stroking the erection stuck in his boxers, which was waiting for one thing: deliverance. Hard as a rock, Leon could no longer bear the fabric on his member and, Y/N understood, since she took off his last garment. At the same time, he took the opportunity to remove the shorts of the Australian. The man descended his kisses on the hardened nipples of the young woman, licking them, nibbling them, tearing out sighs of pleasure and desire from his girlfriend. Finally, he started to kiss the belly of the young woman, up to his privacy covered by her black lace panties. His teeth slid her down her legs, before it littered the floor. His expert fingers slid over the private parts of the young woman, in search of her clitoris, which he tickled with fervor. His thick fingers found her hole, which they slid slowly into, before picking up speed. Quickly, she felt overwhelmed with pleasure, wanting to feel that hard cock to take her in the most primitive way.

“Leon… Oh God…”

“Didn’t know I was your god, babe” he joked.

Without wasting time, her hands wrapped around the thick cock of the blond, coming to make movements back and forth. She insisted on his glans reddened by the immense wave of desire that rippled over the man's body, then with her other hand, she tickled his balls. Eyes half-closed, he watched the beautiful girl in her acts. Finally, he removed his fingers from her pussy and offered her the control.

Now, straddling him, she leaned over his penis and kissed it, from the base to the glans. She insisted on the tip, the most sensitive part of the man. She took him in her mouth, to give him a blowjob, feeling his penis tap deep in her throat, as she tried to perform back and forth movements. With his eyes closed, his hands in the young woman's shaggy hair, he encouraged her in his movements. He felt like he was in Heaven, he couldn't deny it. Hoarse growls passed the barrier of his lips and this time he didn't care if he was a bit loud. And if someone was around, that person could smell sex in the atmosphere...

Finally, she rubbed the outstretched cock against her wet pussy, which begged him to fuck with force. But sometimes, she liked to play and to make them wait, to be sure they would be so exciting, that sex would be insane… Her wetness coated his cock who twitched, so eager to be inside of her.

“Y/N… Stop playing, come on!”

“Be patient.”

“Patient, huh? If you don’t ride my cock right now, let me tell you something… You’re not gonna walk straight for a week and when you’ll walk, people are gonna confuse you with a kangaroo!”

A smile stretched her plump lips. She just pushed his fat cock inside of her need, warm and wet pussy.  A moan passed the barrier of her lips, as she adjusted to the thickness of the mast. Slowly, she began to move back and forth, before picking up the pace, while Leon was accompanying her with thrusts. Fast. Brutal.

He wasn’t joking… she thought.

But, dissatisfied despite the pleasure, the man regained control, dominating the young woman with his body pressing against his. In missionary, he pounded her with powerful thrusts for long minutes, until he found the perfect angle. The pleasure was soaring, while the young woman couldn’t help, but moan. She clung to her lover's arm, her head thrown back, panting.

Orgasm was fast approaching for both.

A few more minutes later, as Leon observed his partner's facial expressions, excited and narcissistic that he was the reason for this daze she found herself in; the vaginal walls of the young woman tighten his cock. Several times. She moaned louder. She was holding back from screaming. He, too, saw himself reaching nirvana. He closed his eyes, the pleasure so intense, as groans of pleasure joined Y/N's vocals. His sperm sprang up and covered the walls of the woman.

“Damn…” he whispered before he pulled out. 

Migraines (Albert Wesker x reader)

Pairing: Albert Wesker X reader

Disclaimer: I’m french and even if I’m learning English for 11 fucking years, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :)

(And I wrote this on my phone, being tired... I'm sorry aha)

***

- You always suffered from ocular migraines... Or almost, at least since you were 11. It could happen at any time of the day for any reason: screen use, tiredness, bright light. The kind of ocular migraines that could make you vomit and feel dizzy. The only solution? Take medication, sleep in the dark, quietly.

- When you started dating Wesker, you knew he wanted to be with someone strong, at least mentally if not physically. For the first few months, you did everything you could to hide your ocular migraines from him and it worked. If you had one, you managed to keep it to yourself and you went to sleep. If you didn't answer the phone or texts for hours, you pretended you were swamped with work.

- Wesker found out one day. You'd been answering your messages only briefly for the past three days and seemed busier than usual. Since he had spare keys to your apartment, it didn't take him long to get to your home...

Your head hurt so much. It was throbbing. The pain spread from the top of your eye to the rest of your skull. Your stomach couldn't take it and you spilled the contents of your stomach into your toilet, flushed it, washed your hands and your mouth, then laid in bed. The shutters were down, at only 6pm, while it was still light. You had swallowed your second painkiller of the day, one that your doctor had given you, stronger than the basic medication. But even with this, it wasn't enough. You could have thought it was a brain tumor or some other disease, but all the medical tests showed you were perfectly healthy, except for the fact you had developed eye sensitivity and a loosening of those muscles.

You dreamed of banging your head against a wall, it was so horrible, so painful. You had been in bed all day. Every movement, even in bed, was torture.

Torture.

Nothing else.

And with every movement, tears threatened to escape from your eyes. Grimaces distorted the soft features of your face. Faint whimpers passed the barrier of your lips. You were so focused on your pain that you heard nothing. Nothing at all. Not even the click of the lock on your front door being unlocked, or the heavy footsteps of your boyfriend's and his expensive shoes.

Wesker wasn't the type to worry. No, far from it. He rarely felt pity. But if there was one thing he hated, it was the very few people who mattered to him being picked on by someone or something. There was William, his best friend, who had died. His niece Sherry, whom life had taken away from him, having become too different. Alex, too, the only one who understood him 100%. And you, his girlfriend. At first, you were an entertainment, a pretty young woman with whom he liked to share the pleasures of the flesh. Then, quickly, your personality charmed him, you had a dark aura. Dark because of what you had gone through in your life: betrayals in love, in friendship, a depression, but also because you didn't believe in humanity. You also knew how to be cultured, how to show that you had good taste, whether it was in gastronomy, music, painting or audiovisual. You were everything he was looking for in a companion, even if he had never looked for love. As a bonus, your I.Q. was high enough for me, to the point he was willing to give you his time. You were perfect for him. Or almost. You were still human, mortal, fragile. Everything he was no longer. You had no idea what he really was, it was too soon. All you knew was that he was a virologist, that he had worked for a multinational company, which had closed down because of his failings... But there were many, and you preferred to close your eyes to them. Eyes? Albert's eyes were different from anything you had seen since you were born. You liked this originality, even if he tried to keep his sunglasses on 80% of the time. Because of this same physical characteristic, he had no choice but to tell you more about himself: he had tested one of his researches on himself. Yet you still didn't know how dangerous he was. How much government agents like Chris Redfield had wanted him dead (without knowing he had failed)...

Or maybe you just refused to face the truth.

Either way, he hated seeing you sad, angry, or tired. When he saw you, lying in bed, curled up against yourself, eyes closed, face contorted into a grimace, he understood. He understood that you were suffering in some way. Your moans of pain confirmed his suspicions.

"Dearheart?"

Your heart missed a beat. You refused to let him seeing you so weak. Despite your affliction, you straightened up and opened your eyes. Immediately, the beating grew stronger and you placed your hand where it hurt.

"Albert... What are you doing here?" you asked, in a weak, hoarse, voice, the kind to carry pain. The blond man walked in your direction, bypassed the bed and sat on the edge, beside you. In spite of his glasses, you knew his reptilian eyes were probing you for an answer. Or rather, he was ordering you to explain what was happening to you.

"I'm in pain. I've been suffering from ocular migraines for at least 15 years... It has been going on for three days and it's just... Hellish."

"Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?"

His hand slid over your chest and he tipped you back, gently. For once, he took off his sunglasses, then scanned you for a moment. His lips formed a line. His eyebrows furrowed a little. A flicker of concern flitted across his eyes. He didn't feel sick to his stomach that you were suffering, no. But he did feel sympathy, which was rare. He sympathized and worried, because he didn't know how much pain you were in.

"Close your eyes."

You complied and let him replace the pillow under your head, as best as he could. Before he was a virologist, a scientist, he was also a doctor. His profession meant he knew the human body by heart. He was able to create viruses, destroy them, perform surgery on many things and heal people. By extension, he knew how to get rid off ocular migraines. Wesker wasted no time. He went to your bathroom and grabbed a washcloth which he moistened with cold water. Back in your room, he slipped it on where the pain pounded the most in your skull. Then he looked through your things and found some essential oils. Without waiting, he applied them to the right areas and massaged you, even though it made you wince. Finally, he returned with a bottle of water, found in your fridge, which he forced you to gulped. Each time he performed a new action, he explained to you why it was important. After a while, he took off his shoes and undressed to join you under the covers of your bed, to keep you under observation, in his arms. When you finally fell into the arms of Morpheus, he took a look at the medication you were taking. Strong pills, but not enough.

"My love, I promise to find a solution so you'll never have to suffer again..." he whispered in your ear, determined to develop a treatment specifically for you.

- From that day on, Wesker worked on finding a treatment for your body, your pain, when he wasn't manipulating viruses.

- When you had an ocular migraine, he treated you very gently, without infantilizing you.

***

What do you think? I hope you liked it. I wanted to read something like this, since I suffer from ocular migraines. And I know it's pretty common... So, you're welcome aha

Instagram : @carolinemertz_

AO3 : BetrayedWriter

TO ANYONE WHO RECEIVES COMMISSIONS FROM GIA ( @missmamacitaoliveira; @asktheresourcefulteacher; @askhunnigan)

Please be careful because this is what happens behind the scenes. She talk shit behing people’s back and she is buying your work and time because she feels superior doing so.

BE CAREFUL!

(DM me if you have questions)

(Reblog to spread awareness)

Progenitor woman (part 2) - Albert Wesker x reader

Pairing: Albert Wesker x reader

Warnings: kidnapping, experimentation

Disclaimer: I’m french and even though I've been learning English for ten years, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :)

Part 1

***

DAY 8 (2/2)

Albert was running his fingers across his desk as he read, for the tenth time, the tests on your blood. He knew he would have no choice but to have tests done, whether you consented or not. In reality, he didn't care. In his entire career as a virologist, he had never bothered for consent. Only, if the person agreed willingly, it made the experiments less terrifying for the subject. He thought of all the things you could be subjected to... First, he had to make sure your body would accept pure T-virus antibodies from Jill, his much needed puppet. He refused to kill the person who could possibly be his equal by directly injecting you with the Uroboros virus. Maybe the Progenitor was running through your veins, but that didn't mean you could control the virus...

For a few minutes he had been talking to Alex, who was locked up in a laboratory, in a place he wasn’t allowed to know. His sister, by project , also proved to be secret to him, but at this moment, it didn’t matter to him.

"Are you kidding me, Alex? The only people alive on this earth who have benefited from the Progenitor virus are just you and me."

"Old Spencer could very well have had children or grandchildren that he injected with the virus? And for some reason, he thought it didn't take and forgot about the project..." she huffed, almost annoyed.

This didn’t escape Albert, one of his eyebrows rose, before he moistened his lips. Here was something interesting, that he had to dig.

"He didn't give up on the Wesker children project. Then he wouldn't have given up on this one."

Wesker paused and clicked his tongue against his palate:

"Tell me, does a guy named Charles Dubois mean anything to you?"

Wesker's accent was so impeccable, even a French speaker would have barely detected it. His extreme intelligence had enabled him to master many languages, including Molière’s one. When Albert wasn't permanently in a laboratory or at a professional meeting, he liked to enrich his culture, to demonstrate his intellectual superiority on every conceivable level.

"Alex? My dear sister, would you try to hide something from me?" he said, in an amused tone.

The woman at the other end of the line was probably clenching her fist and dreaming of throwing it to the other Wesker's jaw. He discerned a tiny sigh of annoyance, which accentuated his smile. He imagined her ranting at all his questions, but at least he was taking her on the right path. The path of the truth, that he sensed for several minutes, but that he had to verify at all costs. Or at least make the other virologist spill the beans. Even if it revived past pain for her, Albert didn't care. It didn't matter what the means were, all that mattered was achieving his goals.

"Do you remember the two years I spent in France? Well no, you don't remember, it was right before we met, in 1988."

"Mmmh... So what?"

Oh but of course, my dear... I've heard rumors about you! he thought.

"I met a man like us, a German scientist. Very charming. I liked him very much and got pregnant."

Plain and simple. Precise. Albert didn’t feel the urge to laugh. Instead, he felt pity for her, because all these years, these rumors that were going around Umbrella were not lies.

"For a scientist, it looks like you underestimated your female body. This child, is it that young woman?"

"It's quite possible. During my pregnancy, I learned that the biological father had a wife and was using me for his own research. When I gave birth, I got rid of the baby, a girl, and gave her to a family, asking them to drop her somewhere. I paid them enough to leave her in the wild," she said, extremely coldly.

Wesker massaged his eyes at this admission, which was colder than he had anticipated. In general, everything related to pregnancies, to babies, made people more sensitive, developed their feelings. Yet, Alex seemed to want nothing to do with her own child, her flesh and blood. No, instead, she preferred to leave her daughter with Albert, so he could use her as an experimental subject. And what if he got a girl pregnant? What would he do? No doubt he would have taken the child back to raise it, according to his principles, and make it a great virologist like him, an heir to whom he could bequeath the new world he was preparing.

"You're much crueler than I am. It looks like they didn't obey. Instead, they adopted her... How could you not think of that? The fact that someone was walking around in the wild with this virus in its veins?"

"My dear brother, you are without a womb and until proven otherwise, you have not a word to say. There is nothing dangerous in her blood as much as I know, so it's not my problem."

But it is becoming mine... Wesker mused.

DAY 11

"So, if I understand correctly, I'm your niece by... Adoption? Don't you think that's twisted, Wesker ?" you threw out, emphasizing his name as if it made you nauseous.

"That's right. We all have our little secrets, don't we? Did you think you could slip through the net by hiding the fact you were adopted?"

"You don't answer one question with another, it's rude."

"Oh, I'm the ill-mannered one? Says the one who refuses to touch food cooked by great chefs, and who would rather starve herself."

It had been several days since you hardly touched the plates the guards dropped in your room, on the doorstep, before always making sure they locked it behind them. The sight of the food, as delicious as it was appetizing, nearly made you drool every time, but the fear had greatly reduced your appetite. As a bonus, you hoped it would attract someone's attention, especially Wesker, to have a tlak. It had been three days since he disappeared and he had returned, probably after hearing you were hardly eating. Why did you want his attention? It was simple... you wanted him to understand that you didn't want to comply to his rules.

"I won't hesitate to stuff you like a goose, if that's what it takes to keep you alive, to not be late on my schedule." he added before sticking your fork into your pasta bolognese.

He'll do anything. He's crazy! your conscience screamed. You suppressed a shiver of terror and winced instead. You wanted so badly to wave your middle finger in the air and tell him to go fuck himself, but fear held you back, a pit in your stomach.

You smelled the delicious aroma of the dish, which reinforced the rumbling in your stomach, the pain that besieged it. Facing the noises, a thin smile stretched Wesker's lips, a sign that he was still laughing at your situation. Then, as if to a child, he raised the fork in the air, to the edge of your lips.

"Eat."

You locked your gaze in his, in defiance.

"I won't repeat myself a third time. Eat." he insisted, in a voice that sounded like thunder. He frightened you, but you couldn't help but provoke him, it was stronger than you. Despite your weakness, you hated to comply to other people's rules, especially when you felt the situation was unfair.

Suddenly, his leather-gloved hands grabbed your chin and squeezed it from both sides, so much; a pain began to dig into your cheeks.

"Open your mouth."

All I need is for him to stick his cock in my mouth and we'd be the actors in a bad porno... Wait... What? But I’m thinking about something like this?!

You didn't understand what was happening to you, so a glint of surprise in your eyes betrayed you and by mistake your lips parted. Wesker saw the opportunity to force his way through your lips and slip the tomato pasta and a piece of meat onto your tongue. In obedience, not to the virologist, but to your stomach, you picked up the food and chewed it under his calculating gaze. He was scrutinizing you as he would with a bacteria under his microscope. His smile stretched for a second. In spite of his sunglasses, you guessed your choice pleased him, not because you were feeding, but because you were submitting to him. In a very short time, you understood that he was power-hungry. By the way, he liked to show he was better than the others, humiliating them as he had just done with you.

"You can see when you want to, dearheart."

Fuck you! you almost screamed at him.

"Eat the leftovers."

He handed you the plate that you requisitioned before eating, while he turned his back to you to take a look at your desk, on which were scattered numerous sketches. Portraits of your family members, whose faces you knew by heart. Albert had no problem recognizing the time when he saw it, like at that moment.

"Intelligent and cultured... It sounds like you and I have more in common than you think." he remarked, in an indescribable voice.

As you cut your spaghetti, a sacrilege for Italians, but you refused to bow and make a fool of yourself in front of him again, you observed your knife. Of course, they provided you with those you can find in canteens, with which you only cut some food, but which wouldn’t kill. At least, it required a lot of strength and speed. If you stuck it in his neck with enough speed, and force, maybe... Yes, you thought of eliminating Wesker, your heart was full of anger.

"Why did you leave me a knife?"

"Because even if you tried, you couldn't manage to kill me. No one could. It would take a lot more than that."

His answer sounded like a warning. A warning that told you to be quiet, not to take it out on him, because he would make you pay twice. Then, said like this, he was rising himself in the ranks of supernatural creatures. Was he still human, or was this just an illusion he was using to make himself seem less scary?

Of course he’s human! Monsters don't exist!

However, that was where you were wrong. Monsters really did exist and you had one right under your nose.

"Be ready. I have a surprise in store for you tomorrow, dearheart."

***

Hey! I hope you liked this second part! Honestly, I don't know how many I'll write. But keep in mind it's a short fanfic, so I don't think there will be more than ten parts.

Btw, feel free to leave comments, to like and to reblog ♥

Instagram : @carolinemertz_

AO3 : BetrayedWriter