No Seriously I Could Write A Fully Fledged Essay About This. Apparently The Books (the Canon Ones) Are

No seriously I could write a fully fledged essay about this. Apparently the books (the canon ones) are better with it? Like, okay Chris and Leon **had** drinking issues... but that's it?? Jill's scars from re5 literally are no where to be seen. Chris is in nearly every main Resident Evil game and he's just fucking chill?? Okay.

Can we talk about how trauma is represented in the resident evil franchise?

Or, more accurately, the lack of it?

In both the (animated) movies/shows and the games themselves, it doesn't really feel like they're showing much trauma to literally surviving multiple zombie outbreaks.

Leon, for example. I feel like he would've had much stronger PTSD considering everything he's been through and how old he was when it all started. Claire and Chris as well.

Idk they seem... relaxed to me. They all seem far too casual considering raccoon city was blown up by the government for having an outbreak of zombies which they also then proceeded to cover up. And all that shit in Spain. And the mere implications of Nemesis' existence and how that would've severely fucked with Jill and Carlos' mental health. And then just everything that happened in vendetta and ID (haven't watched DI yet to make a comment on it). It's a lot and they all just seem so accepting and "meh" about it afterwards??

And yeah, sure, Leon has a drinking problem in Vendetta. But again, that's not really an appropriate amount of response to everything.

They seem so healthy and mentally fine after all these multiple events and it just struck me as odd. Hope it's not just me who thinks this 🥲

"b-but he said in 4 that 🥺" SHUT UP SHUT THE FUCK UP

here's how it works in my head:

before two he would smoke when stressed, after marvin died (during two) he would probably hyperventilate in a bathroom and smoke, during four after luis died he would start smoking again but would stop before infinite darkness, re6/vendetta would smoke lots and di!leon would hate the smell of cig smoke! maybe he'd smoke weed idk

leon smokes it's canon to me

ummm should I write agereg ashley....

Me, You, & Coffee- That's all I need!

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1.2k words

claire redfield x fem!reader

tropes: f/f , hurt / comfort , wlw , claire probably has depression or atleast anxiety , angst , fluff , fall fic , love , happy ending , suggested smut

note: hehe my first fic!!! so scary.... rb/likes are appriciated!!! huge thanks to @/vaaaaaiolet for proof reading this!

tags: @rigorwhoring @vaaaaaiolet @angelstargel

The cold air nips at your cheeks, giving them a red hue. Leaves blow around your feet, and the shout of the coffee shop bell rings as you leave. Your chai latte sits in your mouth as you treasure the flavor, deep in thought. Claire hasn’t joined you today or any time since you last got home. You can’t blame her. 

After her mission a few weeks prior, she hasn’t been acting like herself.

You had come home to your girlfriend with a broken arm, not a scene you expected to return to. She had calmed your concerns yet never stopped working, only making an exception for sleep. 

Now, as you gently knock on her office door, Claire mumbles a soft invitation. Her hair, the same color as her bloodshot eyes, was messy. She had been wearing the same red tank top for a week now. Her eyes never diverted from the screen or her bulletin board. You weren’t even sure she knew you were here. Should you call out her name again? 

“I, uh, got your coffee for you, Babe.” You place a gentle hand on her back and kiss her head.

Your heart aches for her. Almost all her hair had fallen out of her ponytail. As you set down her coffee, she smiles and grabs your hand before pressing a soft kiss into the back. You smile at the tenderness before realizing she is continuing to do her dead, thousand-yard stare. As your smile faltered, you noticed small things that had changed in her appearance recently. Her freckled skin had gotten more pale, and her makeup looked old. These small details pushed you over the edge.

“Claire, are you okay?” You crouch to her side. She nods, humming quickly. “You… you look pretty zoned out.” 

Claire keeps her distant look, the one you’ve become oh-so-accustomed to when she comes home from a grueling mission. Claire begins to divert her eyes from looking at the floor. When did she start looking there?

“Claire? Baby?”

She blinks. How long was she zoned out for? Claire pushes her hair back and wipes her palms on her black jeans, the soft denim brushing against her pale skin. 

“Yes, sorry.” She blinks to register what happened in the minute she was zoned out, meeting your concerned look. “Sorry. One more time?” She quickly glances at her work before giving you her undivided attention, clearing her voice.

“I was just saying I got coffee for you,” you repeat with a nervous smile and tensed brows. The small sympathetic act was enough to bloom a smile on Claire’s face.

“Oh. Thanks, sweetheart.” She replies, a faint smile on her face. 

You nod. You can tell that Claire noticed your concerned expression because she furrows her brows and fights off a scoff. 

“You don’t have to be worried about me or anything like that,” she snaps. 

“I’m just…” The words die in your throat. 

The redhead knows her outburst was unneeded, a small guilty expression forming on her face. Lingering eyes make Claire have a migraine. 

A sigh claws its way through your throat. “I’m gonna make lunch,” you manage to shove out, “If you want some.”

Claire nods awkwardly. “Okay.” She looks at you until you look away, then disappears into her work again.

Wobbling into your humble abode, expecting to see Claire waiting for you, you moaned in pain. The lack of your girlfriend proved you incorrect. You knew she had returned from her mission, but maybe she hadn’t? Fear flooded your body as you heard a noise from Claire’s study. 

You pulled out your gun, opening the door to see your beloved girlfriend attempting to work with one hand in a cast.

Before you get the chance to say anything she groans and gets up, revealing herself to you.

“Hey, you’re home!” The redhead smiled, going to hug you as best as possible. 

Her skin felt freezing! She had been wearing a tank top and underwear with the window open on a cold autumn night. You watch as guilt drains into her face.

You blinked at her red sling. “What happened to your arm, babe?” 

A sigh came from her throat. “I, uh. Kinda got thrown into a wall.”

The color quickly drained from your face. “You what?” was the only thing you could mutter out.

“I’m fine now, don’t worry. It's just inconvenient.” 

You bit your tongue. Your reflection appears in Claire’s red spectacles. Your nose is bruised and stained red from blood.

“Do you want to go take a bath? Or shower?” you prompt, both of your usual healing methods after missions. 

Claire rubbed her eyes, clearly overworked. “No, it’s fine. I have some work to finish anyway. Maybe tomorrow?” Worry had bubbled into your chest. 

You hadn’t given it much thought, to your dismay now. Dread had eaten you up. As you stare at Claire now, your throat closes up. Jerking awake, you immediately notice the cold bed.

You manage to get Claire out of the house with the promise of a:

“Coffee/Study Date?” She furrows her eyebrows. 

“Yeah! It’ll be fun.” You chirp back.

The cold air nips at both yours and Claire’s cheeks, giving them a red hue. Leaves blow around your feet, and the shout of the coffee shop bell rings as you leave, connected by your shared scarf and tightly clasped hands.

The two of you sip on the costly coffee you had purchased to make her smile. There was a cartoon character on top drawn in creamer.

As Claire sips her coffee, the wind blows stronger, blowing cream onto her nose. She looks up at you with a sad expression before back down at her coffee. A small giggle expels from your lips at the sight. Claire glares at you.

“Don’t laugh. I spilled my coffee.” Claire whines, leaning into you and bunching up your scarf. “My latte art!” She frowns and complains jokingly. You know you’d buy her a new one in a heartbeat if she asked.

You coo and kiss her on the cheek for condolence, “You’ll survive.” 

Claire laughs, This is the biggest (read: only) smile you’ve seen from her since you got back. She squeezes your hand softly three times. Warmth trickles into your chest, temporarily battling the cold outside. You hum tenderly.

You try to ignore her paranoia, constantly checking your surroundings and flinching. 

Sniffling fills your ears and concern is etched onto your face. Her big, blue eyes look at you, beginning to water slightly. You grab her coffee and set it down on a bench nearby before engulfing her in your arms.

“Hey, hey,” your voice softens, “what's wrong, baby?” 

Claire sniffles in response. She grabs onto you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go.

You can’t find words. With precision and gentleness, you redirect the two of you to the bench with her coffee. Her voice trembles and breaks along with the facade of the strong, independent woman you know so well.

 “‘M so, so sorry.” Claire sobs into your shoulder, tears dribbling down your scarf.

Your hand goes to her back to rub it softly. “You have nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart. I need you to talk to me, though.”

“This mission was supposed to be easy. I just needed to build schools and hospitals. But then I discovered more and dug myself farther into this shitty hole I made. I feel like I dug myself into my own grave.” You listen and hold your girlfriend as she cries. “And then when I got home I just have this… this urge to finish it. And then I started to stop acting like myself and I ruined everything we had and I-” 

You look at her, hot tears rolling down her ruby-red cheeks. “You didn’t ruin anything, baby. But I’m gonna need you to take a few deep breaths for me.” Your hand snakes its way up Claire’s frame to cup her face. Shaky breaths make themselves noticed. You ignore all the weird looks and flip people off.

Claire whispers, barely audible over the rustle of trees. “I’m sorry I haven’t been paying attention.” 

“Don’t be. I knew you were going through something. It’s not an excuse, but I knew it was out of character. I’m not mad. As long as I have our coffee dates I'm fine.” Your calm, gentle voice and small giggle lull her into a reassured space. 

“I’ll take you on a fancy date. Maybe give you some special dessert after.” Claire teases, and it is then you realize you are in for a long night.

However, it’s the first time in a long while that your bed is warm, and you know it will stay that way.

note: HAII!! if anyone has tips on formatting lmk cause this is the first time I've really done it! i mainly used ao3 before this. thank you for reading and again thank you SO much to vivi for proofreading:)

if u wrote jillada/claireada/clairejill/all three of them i will Kiss u on the mouth (I saw ur rb about it i love them 😞)

JILLADA MENTION… I DO TOO OMG!! i have a claireada in my drafts where ada met claire instead of leon in re2r 😓 gosh i could honestly yap abt clairejill a lotttt for two characters that haven’t rlly met!! like idk jill’s so blunt and ada’s obv seductive as a façade so it’s kinda like black cat/scuffy tabby to me!! ugh either of them being relatively submissive bcs um i’m a switch truther… their dynamic would be so fire capcom deprives the lesbians a lil more every day :(

“Tell me a story, please?” you add, hiding a smile under the edge of the blanket. A kiss is bestowed upon on your forehead and the cave opens for the night. Leon clears his throat theatrically. “This story is about a girl, and a boy who loved her very much.”

Leon keeps his best tales under lock and key, and you crack one out of him on a particularly sleepless night. He thinks you might like this one.

f / m, fluff sprinkled in with angst and emotional hurt, insomnia, grief + mourning, leon is a sweetheart he just loves you :(, he basically tells you a fairy tale before bed

word count: 1.6k // read on ao3

a/n: um. norman fucking rockwell, baby. if you catch the lyrics from "How to disappear", i love you. i wrote this fic like i was possessed 😭 nothing was planned

There aren’t any waves outside your landlocked bedroom window to lull you to sleep, but there is another ocean view you can think of. You turn to the other side of your pillow, biting your lip hopefully.

“Hi, sweetheart,” the view mumbles, ocean eyes groggy and losing the fight against sleep.

You’re in luck.

“Leon,” you whisper. 

“Mm.”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Don’t know why…you’re not tired,” he yawns, his blond lashes almost fluttering closed before snapping open at your wide-eyed expression, “when you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

You cram the comforter to your chin and flip to the other side of the bed with a groan. 

Leon chuckles, giving your shoulder a sleepy shake, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” 

He’s not sorry. But you relent anyway. 

“Tell me a story,” you mumble as he tucks you back in.

You brush a strand of hair across his forehead to unveil those ocean eyes again. They’re faded and tired, yes, but they’ve also seen more of the world than you could ever dream of. The only good thing to come out of Leon’s mysterious missions to the ends of the earth is the treasure trove of stories he brings back with him, like a Cave of Wonders, filled with only the best for you to unlock. You don’t know anything about the outside of that cave – he stops telling the story if you ask – and you’re not in any position to argue as the clock ticks closer to morning.

“What’s the magic word?” he nudges.

Is he really going all open sesame on you too?

“Tell me a story, please?” you add, hiding a smile under the edge of the blanket.  

A kiss is bestowed upon your forehead and the cave opens for the night. Leon clears his throat theatrically. 

“This story is about a girl, and a boy who loved her very much.”

“One thing you have to know before I start anything though, sweetheart, is that this girl was a spitfire. Completely unreasonable. She was the type to pack a grocery cart full of ice cream she swore was on discount only to have all of it be full price and melt in the checkout line.”

(“That was one time!”)

“Never said a thing about it being you, sweetheart, shh. You’re supposed to be trying to sleep. But either way, this girl couldn’t be you because she was a princess – a real pretty one at that. Sweet, smart and kind like little girls grow up wanting to be. She lived in a castle by the sea on an island in the middle of nowhere, and here’s what I heard about her on my last mission. You’ll like this one.

“Life on that island was as peaceful as you can get in a fairy tale. She had plenty of mermaids for friends and animals to keep her company, but you can’t help getting lonely after the years start passing by. The princess was stuck there, you see.”

(“How’d she get there to begin with?”)

“Uh-uh, you’re interrupting me.” Leon teases. “Story or no story?”

(“Story, please.”)

“Magic, alright? Say she got stolen away by some evil witch like Rapunzel did and her kidnapper drowned in the sea. I don’t know. But it didn’t really matter because that island became home after a while. A beautiful home, but lonely all the same. The mermaids all returned to their castle under the sea when the moon came up and the princess wished had somebody she could sleep next to when it got cold at night. 

“She was fond of stories too, like somebody else I know, and after all those years on that island, she’d read every book in the castle and longed for someone who could tell her something new. All she ever wished for on her birthday was a friend. ‘Just for a little bit’, she’d beg.”

Leon sucks in a careful breath.

“So one night, the ocean decided to send the princess a birthday present just like she asked. A magic tide deposited a little boat on the edge of her island, and when the princess woke up the next morning and looked outside her window, she saw something – or rather, somebody – slumped inside of that boat.”

(“And inside that boat was a prince?”)

“No prince. The princess made sure of it too, brave thing that she was, walking right up to the boat and taking a good look at who was sleeping inside of it. 

“The boy inside that boat was dead to the world with cuts on his face from fighting too hard. He gave the princess a good scare ‘cause he was so asleep she thought he was actually dead. When he woke up and asked ‘Who are you?’, she nearly punched him out of fright.”

(“You were right, I think I like her.”)

Leon laughs, bright and warm.

“But this boy was a real charmer, and the princess was kind, remember?”

(“Bummer.”) 

“She didn’t go around punching people out of nowhere. Especially not the first human she’d ever seen. Her curiosity got the best of her and she took the boy to her castle, where he told her he was a mercenary from a faraway kingdom. He’d been on his way to kill a rampaging sea monster when a mysterious wind blew his boat off course and right onto the princess’ island. 

“Over breakfast, the mercenary told her stories about monsters, jungles, fire-breathing dragons, stuff she’d only ever read about. She was entranced. The more he spoke, the more the princess wanted to see for herself even though she knew she couldn’t. She had to be smart about it.”

Leon swallows. He nestles the blanket around you a little tighter, like you’d slip out of his grasp, and continues.

“The boy was battered from the beating he took from his voyage, so the princess nursed him back to health. I told you she was stubborn, right? She wouldn’t take any of the gold or jewels he tried offering her from his travels. All she asked for was a new story each day he stayed with her. He agreed.

“The first week went by in a flash. The princess borrowed magic green herbs from her mermaid friends to heal the mercenary faster. The herbs made him strong enough to move mountains if he wanted to, so he pounded a couple to the ground outside her castle just to prove he could when she asked, and with the new space, the princess made him a place to stay. Turns out she was a great businesswoman; the boy spun tale after tale for her while she fixed a loneliness deep in his bones. Everything was perfect.”

(“Aww…”) 

“The boy stayed longer than he thought he would. His boat collected dust as that week turned into months. Those months grew into a year. The princess’ birthday rolled around again.”

(“Did they fall in love?”)

“They did, sweetheart.”

Leon chuckles softly.

“He ended up loving her a lot, and the princess loved him too, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not usually how it goes in fairy tales, is it? There’s a catch.”

You reach for Leon’s hand in the deep of the comforter, not remembering when he let go.

“Good sailors know not to mess with the ocean. It wasn’t too pleased with the princess keeping the boy to herself for more than just a little bit, not when he needed to get rid of that sea monster that had been killing millions of innocent people. So on the night of the princess’ birthday, the sea asked the boy to go back to being a mercenary. He needed to do his job and the princess wasn’t part of it.”

(“Tell me he stayed, Leon.”)

“Princess, I can’t-”

(“Make him stay.”)

And for the first time, Leon stutters because he never changes the story.

“A-Alright, so the boy stays. He tells the sea that he fell in love and can’t bear to leave the princess behind.”

(“And then?”)

“And then…and then he finds out he’s in over his head. The tide comes and goes, everything has to have a balance. He needed to go because he had to protect all those people, and he couldn’t do that by staying with the princess no matter how much he loved her, right?”

Lifting the blanket aside, Leon falls onto his back. You watch the ceiling fan blades spin in the dull sea-blue of his eyes. 

“The princess asked him to stay and he couldn’t say no to her. She meant well. She didn’t…she didn’t know. And they were happy together on that island until the boy’s decision caught up with him. The sea monster he was supposed to kill found their island one day, sweetheart.”

(“...Leon, no. That’s not supposed to happen.”)

“It’s how the story goes,” he murmurs, gently pressing his lips to yours.

You barely feel it; you taste saltwater in his kiss, feel it running down your face.

“But you changed it!” You’re crying, can’t find his hand. Where’d he go? He’s supposed to be here, you changed the stupid story, you have to make him stay. 

The ocean might not be outside your window, but you still see it behind glass as you prop yourself up on your elbows, heaving for breath only to find Leon’s framed picture sitting beside your pillow.

His eyes are so blue. Ghostly in the dark. 

You must have dropped it when sleep took you under. Your earbuds are still hooked up to a podcast in an earlier effort to bore yourself to sleep, but you don’t really want to hear about relaxing Zen gardens right now. Tugging everything out of your ears, your shaking finger opens the notes app. 

Right now, you’re in the mood for a story. A story with a happy ending where no one goes anywhere.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!