Chris Redfield X Reader - Tumblr Posts

RESIDENT EVIL

LEON KENNEDY || Help

ADA WONG || None Yet

CHRIS REDFIELD || None Yet

:3

Heart For Brains

( Re8!Chris Redfield x gn!reader || your husband finally comes home || link to pt 1)

Seeing you again was the only motivation Chris had at this point.

Your smile, the way you said his name whenever you say you love him, the way you complimented his cooking, everything. He wanted to keep you safe. He wanted to keep you away, away from all the man-made biological horrors that he had to fight off seemingly endlessly on each and every mission he went on.

Calling Chris a worrywart was an understatement.

He constantly worried about you and others before himself. He couldn't help it. He had a heart for a brain. He couldn't help wanting to protect everyone before himself. Even on missions, he thought about you. He's memorized your schedule at this point, most of the time when he isn't shooting the undead he thinks about what you're doing, even when he's in Europe and you're still at your shared home in America.

Seeing your face on his computer screen brought him back to the ground, the way your eyes softened at him made him feel mushy inside. The world was hard on him. You made him feel soft. "I miss you so much, dear. The bed feels painfully empty without you in it." You say, leaning onto your hand as you look back at Chris through your side of the screen. He always loved these little video chats with you. He loved hearing your sweet voice. The hardened man was practically putty around you. Your words melted him. "I miss you too, honey. You eat yet?" Chris asks, as always putting your needs before his own. Despite the fact that he was currently stationed in Europe and you safely at home.

You nod your head in reply. "Mhm, I did eat! Eggs and bacon." You reply back. "Isn't it like… 3 AM over there? Why do you care if I eat when you should be sleeping?" You ask, jokingly. Tilting your head as you lean on your hand. You always found it endearing the way he cared so much for you. But it also somewhat worried you. You made it your goal now to pamper your husband once he returns from his mission in Europe.

Chris chuckles along with you. "I can't help but worry, honey. You're at home all alone." He says in reply. "There isn't much going on here anyways." He murmurs, playfully scoffing. "How's your morning so far, babe?" He asks, leaning slightly toward his side of the screen. A shine in his eye as he hears you talk about your morning. Though your morning was uneventful, he listened intently, wanting to share that quiet life with you right there and then. No monsters. No guns. Just you and him, together. He can't wait to come back home and return back to you.

The day he came back to Europe was the same as always, the same routine of greeting Chris at the door, hugging him close to you, his much larger frame enveloping you into his. "I miss you, dear." You murmur softly, your head to his chest. "I miss you too, honey." Chris replies back, his nose taking in your familiar scent as the two of you embrace. The scent of home. The two of you share this exchange for a couple more minutes before you let go. "Let me help you with your bags, babe. You must be exhausted." You say, a hand reaching out to grab one of his duffel bags.

"No, no, I don't need your help." Chris quickly says, gently swatting your hand away. Even when arriving home, Chris didn't want you worrying for him or lifting a finger for him. He was stubbornly caring for everyone except himself. You sigh softly, deciding not to prod any further. You pull your hand away and hug your husband one last time before letting go.

"Just…decompress yourself and rest, okay?" Your eyes soften looking at your husband. You knew he needed a break. He knew that he needed a break, too. Chris grabs his bags without struggle, murmuring a small "Thanks, honey." As he walks into your shared bedroom, slowly unpacking his things from his duffle bags. You give Chris some time to get used to his surroundings again. Enough time to shower and change into a fresh set of clothes. He was gone for a long while.

The feeling of being home again felt foreign to Chris. He felt like he didn't belong here.

He had gotten so used to the endless cycles of fighting, fighting to protect people, fighting to protect his friends. Fighting to protect you. He felt like he didn't deserve to be home again. He's pulled out of his own thoughts when he realizes that you're hugging him from behind. He also realizes he was staring blankly at the full body mirror in your shared bedroom. Chris chuckles softly at your attempt to wrap your arms around his muscular build fully. "What a sweet thing you are." He comments, shuffling himself to face you. "I don't know what I did to deserve someone like you, honey." He says, easily scooping you up in his arms.

"All the right things, dear. I'm really glad you're home again." You reply, wrapping your arms around him for support. A small blush appears on Chris's face hearing your words. Knowing you cared for him. Not for his battle knowledge or his strength was enough to make small hearts appear in his eyes if that was humanly possible. Knowing you wanted him at home melted his heart.

He gently places you down on your shared bed, handling you carefully, almost like porcelain. He didn't want to hurt you, after all. You were his drive to go on missions. He went through hell just to see you again, and it was worth it every time. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept in a normal bed. Let alone hold you in his arms. Chris wanted to change that.

"You were right about this bed being lonely without me. I forgot how big this thing is." He comments, a small chuckle leaving his chest. You smile softly, hearing his words, patting a spot next to you for him to lay down. He climbs next to you in bed, the bed frame shifting slightly under his weight. He slowly wraps his arms around you, sighing contently as he rests into the mattress. It's been a while since he's had a normal bed. Pulling you close to him, Chris kisses the crown of your head. "Love you, sweet thing." He murmurs just loud enough for you to hear. "Love you too, babe." You reply back, hugging his shoulders as his hands rest right above your hips.

You lay your head comfortably on his broad chest. You both enjoy the silence together. Finally, you both had time alone. "...you're off your mission and you still wear your work clothes?" You say aloud, gesturing to one of his many, black turtlenecks. You couldn't tell if it was a fashion statement or a sign of how much working for the BSAA weighed on your husband's psyche. "They're comfortable, honey." Chris replies, his eyes fluttering open hearing your voice. He drifted off to sleep for a brief moment, just holding you in his arms. He was home.

You smile hearing his answer. "They sure do." You say in agreement, shifting in the bed so that you're facing him. Head still resting comfortably on his chest, your fingers trace over his muscles. "They make you look professional, babe." You add on your fingers slowly making their way up his arm, then to the collar of his turtleneck. The entire time, Chris had a small blush on his face. You really did make him soft. "T-thank you, honey." He quietly says back, his eyes darting between your fingers and your face. Despite being a hardened BSAA captain, he was a soft, putty mess around you. Easily moldable and malleable simply by your words and touch.

Your fingers rest near his collarbone until you gently tug down his turtleneck. This causes Chris's eyes to widen slightly. The small blush on his face spreads even more, the tips of his ears almost red.

He wasn't expecting this type of welcome home. Not at all.

Seeing this reaction out of your husband always surprised you. Chris Redfield, the expert on the living dead, the man who had a heart for a brain, got flustered simply by the way you spoke and your hands. Your eyes scan his neck, noting the way his Adam's apple nervously bobbed up and down. He was always so shy when it came to physical affection, yet he was proud to hold hands with you in public. Not taking a second thought to wrap his much bigger hand in yours.

"Kissing is more…intimate than holding hands, right, dear?" You ask, eyes darting up at Chris, who was still, completely red in the face. His hands cling to your hips, bringing you closer to him. "Y-yes. It is more intimate than kissing, sweet thing." Chris replies, nodding his head a bit in agreement.

Slowly, you tug the collar of his turtleneck lower and lower until his neck is fully exposed. Chris's breathing hitches. The man was absolutely flustered now. Going from a grizzly bear to a teddy bear around you and only you. "H-honey…what are you doing?" He quietly asks, not stopping you at all. "Just…relax, dear. Let me calm you down, okay?" Chris slowly nods his head, letting your lips get closer to his neck. Your husband tenses up slightly as you get closer. He was so shy and yet craved physical affection from you. Especially after being away from you for so long.

Your lips gently pepper his neck in kisses, Chris loosens up, back pressed against the mattress. Relaxing as you kiss his neck. Two of your fingers are still tugging down his turtleneck collar as he speaks. "This…feels nice. You're really spoiling me, huh?" He comments, letting you do your work. All you do is hum in response. Your kisses turn more feverish as you trail up closer and closer to his jawline.

This must've unlocked something in Chris's brain. He immediately grabs you by the hips, though, still handling you gently like porcelain he places you in his lap. Your thighs squared his hips in, with you against his broad chest. He realizes what he had done in the heat of the moment, and his face turns a deeper shade of red. "S-sorry, honey, I-I don't know what came over me." He quickly says, sounding genuinely apologetic. Hearing how sweet Chris sounded and how reddened his face was, you smiled softly. Pulling away from his neck, your eyes soften again. "Aw, it's okay, babe. No need to apologize to me over something like that." You reassure him, cupping his face in your hands. Your palms brush against his cheeks, the stubble on his beard tickling lightly against your skin.

His eyes glance at your lips, then back into yours. His own lips try to form words until you pull him for another round of kisses. You feverishly pepper kisses all over his face, making rounds and leaving small faint imprints of the lip balm you wore on his features. Your lips linger on the corners of his lips before you plant them softly on his. Chris sighs softly into the kiss, slowly pressing your hips down against his so you aren't awkwardly caging him in with your thighs. Even in a position like this, he still prioritized your comfort over his.

His hands rest on your hips again, relaxing like you requested him to as you do your work. You really meant it when you told him to relax. Your hands pull away from his face, placing them on his shoulders, your thumbs brush against the base of his neck. Chris leans into the kiss gently, giving you an open-mouthed kiss. His tongue darts in and out of your mouth, still handling you softly as your shared kiss becomes more heated. One of his hands holds you in place by the back of your head, his fingers brush through your hair as he (somewhat) hungrily makes out with you.

He doesn't remember the last time he kissed you either. He missed the way you tasted. Chris wanted to change that, too.

Whenever he was on a video call with you, that thought lingered in the back of his mind. The way your lips tasted on his. His thoughts pooled into a puddle at first. In the back of his mind. That puddle has grown into another body of water entirely. Something much bigger.

Finally, he breaks the kiss, breath hot on your skin as he pulls away. The reddish tint that spread across his now, lip balm stained face slowly went down as he looked down at you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer for a hug.

"I love you, honey. Don't know what I'd do without kissing those lips of yours." He murmurs against your skin, pulling you in for a hug and kissing your neck softly. Open-mouthed kisses trail up your neck, his stubble brushing against your soft flesh. You chuckle softly, feeling the stubble against your neck. "I love you too, dear. That tickles." You comment as his kisses linger on your skin.

A small laugh leaves Chris as he pulls away from your neck after peppering kisses on it. One of his hands cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against one of your cheekbones. "You really are the sweetest thing, huh?" He says in a soft tone as he looks at you with the most love filled expression you've seen. He really did love you.

Chris Redfield, the man with a heart for a brain, had his eyes set on you. And only you.

VARIOUS RE CHARACTERS REACTING TO FRIENDLY ZOMBIE READER (G/N)

Brought to you by your local zombiekin <3 (Fun fact, was originally planning on adding Wesker- but I wanted to get this out sometime within the month lolol)

Also please note, I have not seen a full playthrough of Re1R or Re1- Chris might be OOC.

Characters Included:

Leon Kennedy (Re2R)

Claire Redfield (Re2R)

Jill Valentine (Re3R)

Carlos Oliveira (Re3R)

Chris Redfield (Re1R)

Content Warnings Included:

Mentions of body horror (brief, but still applies to reader themselves.)

Mentions of gore/death (nothing explicit.)

The Sewers. (They deserve their own trigger warning /hj)

Mention of eye touching/prodding

Leon Kennedy:

After having cleared the hallways of the Racoon City Police Department and coming face to face with some disgusting freaks of nature named Lickers, Leon thought he had seen it all. Honestly, he didn’t imagine there was anything new that could surprise him in this goddamn place until he made eye contact with you.

Well.. if you can call staring at the dangling eye hanging out of your socket “eye contact”.

He instinctively raised his gun, expecting to see you rise to your feet, stumble over to him and try to nom his neck like all the other undead he’d seen so far- but to his (pleasant) surprise, that didn’t happen. In some odd groan you spit out, which he assumed was your attempt at speech, you backed away from him. Arms raised as if to show you didn’t mean to cause him harm.

It was odd to say at the very least. He kept his aim marked at the dead center of your head, though he hesitated pulling the trigger now. Your right hand (which Leon noted had a nasty looking chunk taken out of it) drifted down to a bloodied ID badge hanging from your breast pocket.

Though it was hard to read, Leon squinted out the words “Assistant Secretary” in bolded letters at the top of your ID.

He looked back up at you, slowly lowering his gun as he noticed the almost.. human-like quality of fear in your eyes. He could’ve sworn he even saw your shoulders sag slightly with relief as he tucked his gun into his holster.

“Hey.. can you.. understand me?” Leon’s words paused at times as he debated internally if he was really trying to communicate with a dead person. He could feel his stomach sink slightly as you slowly nodded back, cautious that he’d still shoot.

“What the hell.. How are you even- no wait- you’re infected and you can still?- What??”

You watched as Leon’s brows furrowed and his expressions cycled through confusion, disbelief, intrigue and right back to absolute bewilderment. It was almost funny and you almost tried to smile at him- before remembering the fact that your jaw had gotten unhinged a while ago and it’d likely confuse the poor guy more.

After a very long and arduous time of trying to explain to the baby-faced police officer how exactly you got bit and how you locked yourself in this room and how even you didn’t know how you kept your humanity- it just ended up in Leon sitting on the floor, scratching his head.

“I really don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. I’m sorry.” You grumbled out a brief noise of annoyance before just accepting it and sitting on the ground across from him.

There was an awkward silence between the two of you for a while before Leon spoke up.

“Hey look. I know you’re already bit and all but maybe we can find you some help? There’s a hospital in the city- there has to be someone who can fix.. uh.. whatever you’ve got going on here, right?” He even sounded unsure of the words he was saying, yet the caring smile etched onto his nervous features was enough to convince you that you should come with him.

Not particularly like you believed you could be cured, but more as in “This poor kind boy will get killed if someone’s not looking out for him.”

So you gave a polite nod, rummaging through what little supplies you saved in here before heading out of your sanctuary with Leon- glad you’d met someone so nice in this mess.

Claire Redfield:

Despite having been caught in the middle of a zombie outbreak and getting turned yourself, undead life was surprisingly calm. You had shuffled your way down into the sewers after getting bit, accepting your fate as you felt your consciousness slowly slip away as blood drained out of the bite on your leg- only to wake up a few hours later a lot paler and surprisingly awake.

Part of you was frustrated you had somehow miraculously lived through transforming into a zombie because of course you would be the unlucky schmuck who would stay sentient throughout something like that. Only your level of sheer bad luck would allow that.

It turned out being down here wasn’t too bad if you ignored the weird mutated masses of flesh in the water, the massive hulking figure of a presumably mutated man that would scream in agony every hour or so and the other rotting corpses surrounding you. Otherwise, it was nice.

You had honestly thought that you were going to live the rest of your undead life here. It’s not like being on the surface is any better at the moment- though you had to admit, it got boring really quickly.

That’s why when you heard a small repetitive bang of a pistol fire off- you couldn’t help but let your curiosity win. You peaked around a corner, just dark enough so whoever was firing couldn’t see you, to take a glance at whatever unlucky person slipped down here.

She couldn’t have been past her early twenties, you thought, her younger features and nervous look spoke volumes. Her eyes had a certain steely resolve to them though, which would’ve impressed you if she didn’t stare directly at you. Previously fascinating eyes now had your stomach drop as she raised her gun at you preparing to fire.

You scrambled away down the hall you came from, legs slightly slipping from the slimy layer on the floor that you really didn’t want to think about at the moment.

Claire had started giving chase after you, worried you were possibly another survivor that she had scared off with her reckless gun waving.

“H-Hey! Wait up!” She yelled out, following your shadow throughout the gross sewers.

You had run yourself into a dead end- panicking and turning around to see her approaching rapidly. Without a way to defend yourself, you simply put your arms in front of your face to shield it as you shut your eyes tightly- preparing to get shot.

Clacking sounds of boots hitting the wet floor filled your ears as Claire stopped just a few feet away from you. She huffed out in exhaustion, leaned over to catch her breath.

“I’m.. I’m sorry- jeez hold on. About.. About scaring you. I didn’t know there were other survivors down here. You alright?” She looked up at you, briefly scanning over your body.

She noted how you looked worse for wear (but then again, so did she) and the large, infected looking wound on your leg. Her face shifted into one of pity as she looked back up at your face.

“Oh.. Is.. Is that why you ran from me?” You nodded, slowly lowering your arms to gauge her expression. It’s funny, she looked a lot more sweet up close. Your eyes met hers and you almost felt better. She looked at you with such.. compassion, even though you were infected.

Claire felt an immense sense of pity overwhelm her. She must’ve scared the living daylights out of you upon chasing you down like a rabid animal. As her gaze met yours though, she realized how glossy your eyes looked- how pale your skin was. You were probably already dead considering how familiar you looked compared to other zombies she had seen.

“I don’t want to hurt you, okay? You seem like a nice.. person? Zombie? I’m not fully sure what to call you.” Her tone was very soft, almost like a gentle elder sister, it was soothing to hear after all the harsh groans and grumbles you’d been hearing from the other undead around you.

“I think that it’ll be beneficial for us to work together. I have a friend who’s a police officer who I’m trying to meet up with. Maybe we can all find a way to escape together and you could get some help at a hospital out of this town. Is that okay?”

It wasn’t like you really had a reason to say no and the way she kept her voice so polite and calm definitely swayed your choice. With a nervous step forward, you precariously nodded.

“Perfect. My name’s Claire. Claire Redfield. It’s nice to meet you.”

Jill Valentine:

Jill was getting pretty damned tired of this zombie shit. First at Arklay, now in Racoon City the day before she was supposed to move out of this hellhole. It was just starting to get ridiculous and if she still believed in a God, she would’ve thought they had it out for her.

As she turned a hard left, narrowly avoiding a zombie grasping and hobbling towards her- Jill entered the subway company’s office. Thankfully it was empty, Jill thought to herself as she pushed the door leading into the traffic control system’s room only to have the door get pushed right back into her face.

…

What the fuck??

Jill grabbed her knife from the sheath on her side and rammed the door open- fully expecting to have to fight hand to hand, only to meet your terrified gaze as you fell onto the floor.

She honestly couldn’t tell if you were infected or not- you looked like you’d been drained dry of all your blood, yet your expressions were so human. Hands raised, slightly shaking (Jill wasn’t sure if that was due to fear or the fact your right hand was hanging on by a few tendons of muscle.)

You mumbled out a shrill and raspy yelp, trying to communicate as best you could that somehow you were still conscious, even in this form.

Jill wasn’t exactly sure what to do with you, knuckles tensing and untensing around the handle of her knife. She almost felt guilt thinking about stabbing you now. Her body went taut as she saw you stumble up and head to the subway panel. You waved your hands, pointing back and forth at the subway map and its controls.

“You.. know how to work that?” Jill hesitated with her words, almost embarrassed that she was trying to communicate with.. a zombie as far as she could tell.

Well that was until you nodded very rapidly, as if trying to prove you had some worth.

So with a frustrated sigh, Jill said “Okay, I need to go to Fox Park. Figure it out.”

Jill watched you with interest as you flipped through the switches expertly, going through the path so quickly she had to assume you worked here before.. whatever happened to you. You figured it out so quickly and turned back to her, as if expecting her to allow you to follow her to wherever she was headed.

Part of her really didn’t want to bring back an infected to the subway but you had the biggest eyes and were practically pleading.

“No- you can’t. God just..” Bigger puppy dog eyes.

“NO. You’ll cause too much commotion! I can’t-”

“Hey Jill- you got that subway route finished?”

Your eyes instantly went to the radio buzzing from her shoulder and she made a mental note to punch Carlos when she got back.

“Yes.. Thanks to the help of a.. oddly friendly zombie.”

You could hear him cackle over the other side of the radio. “You’re joking- right?”

“I wish I was.” Jill sighed out and explained to Carlos that she actually met a nice zombie and spent about 10 minutes convincing him and the other U.B.C.S members to let you follow and that she swears she’ll keep an eye on you and please please please please let her keep you-

Mikhail begrudgingly agrees after her arguing that she should be able to keep you around and that you’ve proven yourself to be helpful- but is told that you’ll be staying with Carlos when you both return to not endanger the civilians and to truly prove yourself.

Jill didn’t know why, but she felt the need to protect you. Maybe it was some lingering savior complex or survivor's guilt but she ignored that for now and walked alongside you back to the subway station.

Carlos Oliveira

As Jill arrived with you in tow, Carlos did notice how surprisingly calm and patient you were with everyone. You clung onto Jill for a little while- being careful to not go too far into the train- in the off chance someone would see you and freak out.

While Carlos trusted Jill’s choice in trusting you, most of the other U.B.C.S members were.. not as happy with the platoon leader’s choice in allowing you to stay. Tyrell was very obvious about his lack of faith in your unwillingness to cannibalize them and informally ordered you to stick near Carlos.

Carlos didn’t mind to be honest. Though, it was a little perturbing to see the way your flesh loosely hung on in some places. He tried his best to be polite and not stare as it’d be “ungentlemanly” of him.

You served to be pretty helpful in the RPD, keeping an eye out for anything he might’ve missed (zombies or items.) You even took a few solid hits for him which may have left you a little more gory in some places over before- but Carlos just appreciated the gesture.

“So, tell me, how’d you end up like that?”

“…”

“Oh right. Can’t talk. Sorry.”

A simple nod or shake of your head was enough to satisfy any base questions he had for you– plus his quips about certain events like the locked doors kept the mood light and cheery.

It was honestly a lot of easy communication between you two- Carlos read you very well and normally a simple tug on his arm or small grunt would do the trick if he truly missed something.

Carlos did ask some weird things though-

“Can you like.. see outta the hanging eyeball?”

You didn’t really think about it before but now that you focused on it- you really couldn’t. With an experimental prod, Carlos watched in horror as you pushed it back into its socket to see that’d change anything. It didn’t but it was worth a shot.

He (somewhat disturbed, somewhat politely) asked you never do anything like that in front of him again.

Fair enough.

Chris Redfield

This entire mansion situation was completely overwhelming for Chris- everything was so out of place and nothing made sense. Grappling with the concept of zombies being a real thing, Umbrella Corp actually being tied to this goddamn place somehow and the Bravo Team being completely wiped out along with his other colleagues being God knows where was just getting too much to handle.

Maybe that's why he didn't even take a second glance at you when you rolled a flashlight next to him as he sat on the ground of the grimy hallway.

It took him a second to fully process what just happened- his eyes running over the slimy flesh of your body that looked rotten and gross. You just simply stared back at him, hollow eyes in hollow sockets waiting for a response.

“.. Hello?”

You waved back in response, watching as Chris’ face cringed as your bones cracked and popped from the movement.

“That's new. Most of your friends seem to not be interested in conversation, eh?”

Chris was pretty sure he was losing it- he knew he should be grabbing his gun and getting rid of this thing in front of him before it attacked instead of making conversation. Yet something felt different about this one.

You nodded your head slowly and made trepidatious steps towards Chris. Testing his willingness to let you near- he did move his hand near his knife, which you took as a warning and stepped back.

He looked down at the flashlight you rolled towards his side and palmed it. It was essentially a gift- and you didn't seem to want to harm him.

“Listen. I need help finding my friends. They're somewhere in this mansion. This place is just so confusing to get through- will you help me out?”

You seemed to hesitate for a second, feet lingering in place as if trying to see if it was a trap. Chris almost found it funny, the both of you unsure of the other and still needing help to get out of here in one piece.

You gave a weary nod to him before stepping closer and offering your hand to help him up.

Chris shuddered a little as he felt the bone through your frail, decaying flesh and pulled himself up with your help.

An odd duo you two made, but certainly two is better than one in this situation.

Chris Redfield pre-relationship headcanons

~*~*~*

Content: GN reader, as usual

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Notes: Not a request either. Wrote this to comfort myself, I got some shocking news earlier.

~*~*~*

Meeting Chris is either the easiest or hardest things to do, depending on how you meet him

Meeting Chris at a bar would most likely just end in a one night stand

Meeting Chris on the job though would result in that sweet, sweet, slow burn

Obviously he'd care for you, on a co-worker level at first

Just a few "hey"s and waves here and there

Everybody knew Chris, he was the BSAA's "golden boy"

He didn't know your name until Jill talked about you and he was like "omg?"

He'd see you at partiest that a coworker of yours would've invited you both to

Chris would most likely approach you first, and you two would share some jokes about how someone was drunkenly dancing, get some drinks together, then call it a night

This would go on for a few more parties, which were usually spaced out. The ones involving alcohol are usually on someones birthday

After, your "hey"s and waves in the hallways turn to him seeking you out and offering you coffee or water, only after asking how you were

During the coffee/water breaks he'd ask some surface-level personal stuff, and he'd reveal some surface-level personal stuff. But he'd mainly ask about you though

It was a pretty slow lead into a friendship. After the fourth or fifth coffee/water break, he wrote his number on a napkin and left it for you

Once he gets your number, he's gonna text you whenever he gets off work

This would be the fastest part of your friendship - now you both can talk freely without the pressure of a work environment around you

You'd bond more over shared interests, make some inside jokes, talk about other personal stuff behind the safety of a screen, send each other memes, etc.

Unrelated but he definitely does not have his read reciepts on

It's not too long before he asks to come over for the first time, or to have you come over to his place

Regardless of where you went, you'd share sodas and snacks while you watch some movies or shows, commenting on it here and there

Between episodes or commercial breaks, you both would talk about whatever, ranging to personal stuff to things you gotta deal with at work

The times you'd spend with him outside of work is when you'd both start slowly revealing things about your past, so he's really getting to know you on a deeper level

But mostly its all smiles and laughter with this man

You told this man you liked flowers once, and he passed by a flower stand on the way to work, and bought a bouquet for you

Mans played it off as a joke smh

He's gonna start giving you and himself tbh mixed signals

He wouldn't realize his feelings for you until he attended a party you weren't invited to (the host didn't know about you, he's a personal friend of Chris') and a girl there started flirting with him

At first he was flirting with her as well, but a certain lighting made her seem like you, or maybe he was just drunk.

So, gently he lets her down, and then stumbles out of the party to call you

You were in pajamas, munching on some chips and watching 90 day fiance, when your phone rang. Sighing, you picked it up and answered without looking at the screen.

"Hello?" You'd said, annoyed that someone dared interrupt your show.

"Hey, s-orry, bad time?" Chris slurred.

"Chris?" You'd perked up.

"Yeah. Hey- can I come over?"

"Are you drunk?" You squinted at your TV, now no longer paying attention to the show.

"Ye- yeah. A little. Please answer my question, (Y-"

"Yes, yeah." You'd stood up, nodding your head vigorously. "I'll come pick you up."

"You don't have to, I can, I can get Leon to-"

"No, knowing him he's also drunk. And also probably banging someone rght now." You were gathering your things. "I'm leaving right now. Send me your location."

"Okay. Um, can we get pizza?"

"if a place is open. I'll see you in a bit, Chris, okay?"

"Okay. I love you~." Chris slurred before hanging up and sending you his location.

You stared at the screen in shock for a second before snapping back to it and driving to where he was.

Resident Evil Masterlist

Started: 3/5/23

Last Updated: 3/8/23

Requests: Open

• ───────────────── •

Chris Redfield

Pre-Relationship HC's Relationship HC's

Leon Kennedy

Nothing here yet!

Note: I had a masterlist months ago, but I thought I fell out of resident evil for good. I was wrong. As I get into it more and re-familiarize myself with characters, I'll add more.

• ───────────────── •

What I will write: Fluff, NSFW, SFW, poly, mlm, wlw, gender neutral, etc.

What I wont write: Pedophilia, suicide, extreme kinks, more than four characters in something (it just becomes too much), being drugged, drugging someone else, homophobia, or racism.

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Grand Masterlist, where all of my fandoms are listed.

Be sure to include: Gender of reader (I do female, male and gender neutral), plot, character(s) you want (no more than four per ask), and what you specifically want (fluff, angst, smut, etc.)

Thank you, and request away if you’d like <3

Chris Redfield relationship HC's

• ───────────────── •

Content: Chris Redfield x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: All SFW

• ───────────────── •

Okay, we're pivoting off of this

After picking up Chris and some pizza, you two went back to your place

Chris had tried to drukenly confess to you while pizza was hanging out of his mouth, and in an effort to save his dignity, you gave him water and your bed, then told him to go to sleep.

He held onto your waist as he laid down, trying to beg you to stay. He looked like a kicked puppy, and he needed you. Giving in, you promised to stay if he actually went to bed and didn't try anything.

Chris fell asleep as soon as you settled down, and you followed suit.

In the morning, he was powering through a hangover while trying to confess his love to you

Understanding that last night wasn't just him drunkenly rambling to get into your pants, he found himself overjoyed when you confessed at having mutual affections

Chris is a very respectful boyfriend. He doesn't push you to do anything you don't want to do. He lets you decide the speed of the relationship, since I feel like he could go for anything.

Chris loves to kiss your cheeks, your lips, your hands, your forehead, everything. Once you start initiating kisses, it's game over for you lol

But he's really good at giving hugs and cuddles. He's like a big bear, and a fucking heater. You may need a fan on once you start cuddling.

He's very proud to be with you. He'll brag about you subtly to his friends, will want you to meet Claire, and at work he'll do subtle couple things to make a big show of your relationship.

Of course, its all in good fun. If you're not a fan of PDA, he wont do the work stuff and will respect your boundaries.

Very sweet guy, would give you the whole universe if he could. He also likes to surprise you with nice dates sometimes, especially if he's been away for a while

Speaking of, if he's away on a mission without you, he likes to surprise you when he comes home. He always comes home a day earlier than he says, and he manages to surprise you every single time. Always envelops you in a big bear hug and showers you in kisses.

If you've been away without him, he always waits for you with flowers, and is holding the biggest "welcome home!" banner there. He still holds you in a bear hug and showers you with kisses. It's cause he missed you and was afraid you were gonna die

He's a big goof that just loves you so much :3

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to request, or look for more of your favorite character!

• ───────────────── •

Warnings: Mentions of abuse (not specified), drug use (not specified), mental breakdown

Summary: This is a vent of mine. Chris Redfield finds you high in the shower after not speaking to him for a couple days. He thought you were done with drugs, but discovers you got high because you were having trouble with your PTSD and abusive father. He then helps you feel better.

Viewer discrestion is advised. Take care of yourselves.

• ───────────────── •

Chris moved up to the door. You hadn't been answering his texts or calls for days. That never meant anything good. Fiddling with his key ring for the spare key you gave him for emergencies, he noted to take off the keys he didn't need anymore once he left your place.

Finally finding the right one, he jammed it in the lock and unceremoniously shoved his way into your apartment. The lights were off, but he could hear a shower going in your bathroom. He took a quick peek at your current living space. Things were everywhere, the sink was crowded with dirty dishes, he guessed it had been like this for a little bit.

"(Y/n)?" He called out. "Hey, it's Chris. You uh, you didn't answer any of my texts or calls and I was getting worried."

No response. The shower continued. Growing suspicious, he made his way to the shower. He knocked once, twice, thrice, and right when he was about to knock a fourth time, your raspy voice sounded quietly through the door.

"Come in."

He did, and saw your curtains open. You were fully clothed but drenched head to toe. You looked tired, your lips were chapped, and your skin was pale.

"Jesus, what happened to you?" He reached over and turned off the water.

"No, turn it back on...my fucking..." You trailed off.

"Come on, let's go." He bent over and slung one limp arm over his shoulders before hauling you up and out of the tub. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Bad trip...thought...cold shower would help." Your head slumped, and when Chris tried to stand you up, your face just smashed into his chest.

Chris sighed. "Lets get you dried off, yeah? What even prompted you to get high? I thought you quit that."

"I did...but my fucking...my fucking dad came by..."

Chris knew that was the culprit. Your abusive father. Nodding, he helped you into your room, picked some oversized clothing for you to throw on (that absolutely weren't his) before handing you a towel. Nothing needed to be said, Chris knew well enough by now.

After changing into dry clothing and drying yourself off the best you could with a towel and high off your ass, you tried to stumble into the living room. More lights were on and it was fucking with your vision. Chris was putting some of your dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

"Oh no, no, don't do that...I can..."

"It's fine, you go sit down." Chris turned and gave you a charming smile over his shoulder.

You hesitated. Chris clicked his tongue. "Want company?"

You hesitantly nodded, not entirely sure. If you started having flashbacks again, you didn't want to get violent with your only source of comfort. But, before you could finish your thought process, Chris had abandoned the sink and guided you to your couch.

"Cuddle or no?"

"..." It suddenly hurt to speak.

Chris waited patiently for you to speak, or give him a hand signal. When you tapped his shoulder, he nodded. You just wanted to sit shoulder to shoulder. Chris patiently waited for you to talk, or not. He would wait for you forever if that's what you needed. He'll sit here as you begin to breakdown and cry, all of your worries and PTSD-ridden thoughts come spilling out. Chris listens, and listens, and listens. He doesn't say a single word. He just slowly begins to envelope you in a hug, giving you plenty of time to back out if you wanted to.

When his arms finally cage you in, you feel your tears begin to stop. You aren't close to calming down, but it definitely feels better like this. When you're done, Chris gives you a moment to see if you have anything else to say. When you're silent, he only says a sentence.

"I'm here, I've got you."

And do you feel damn safe in those fucking arms.

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! 💞

Warm me up, Captain - Chris Redfield (smut)

Pairing: Chris Redfield x reader

Warnings: smut + wrap your biscuit, please + slight spoilers (RE village) I guess?

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. :)

***

"I'm so sick of this shit..." you sighed. You knew you couldn't give up on your efforts so easily, let alone so close to the goal. You had to find Ethan first to stop him from doing anything and no matter how many times you begged Chris to tell him the truth because Winters was known for never giving up, he refused to listen to you. What a stubborn man!

You chattered your teeth, it was so cold, much colder than you imagined in the Carpathians, in Romania. Although you were wrapped up in relatively warm winter clothes, it didn't change the fact that the snow and the freezing wind in the middle of the night made it difficult for you to move forward. Shivers kept running through your body. The only thing that kept you from being totally frozen was the activity, the running, the eliminating of enemies; it warmed you up.

"You look freezing... Are you going to be okay? "

"Yes, Captain. "

You had joined his team for good reason and you had fought to be one of the best, you didn't intend to let your fragility faced with temperatures get the better of you. When you entered Heisenberg's factory, that crazy German or Austrian guy, you quickly encountered enemies to take down and soon you found yourself running through this creepy place from the first to the last level... During the operation, the team members scattered, looking for the master of the place and possibly Miranda. Arriving at the fifth level, Chris and you decided to take a break and examine the tank at your disposal... Taking advantage of the calm and the refuge that the place offered for the moment, immersed in the darkness, you rubbed your arms in reaction to the shivers that ran down your spine.

"I'm going to look around, to see if there's anything interesting. " you indicated, in a solemn voice, in order to scan the place with your eyes. Then you started to look around, in case you find a weapon, ammunition, a grenade or something else. Why not find a new lead, which would allow you to meet your objectives much faster.

"A cartridge! "you exclaimed with a thin smile. You bent down to pick up the bullets and put them away, aware that you would need them. It wasn't out of the question that you might run out at some point.

Chris studying the tank, ready to call your name, turned and froze when his gaze lingered on your ass. Suddenly he felt hot and couldn't rest his gaze on that part of your body. You hadn't known each other for months, the situation was horrible and complicated, but he was an older man with good taste in women. He had always thought you were beautiful and you were in front of him, in an exciting position. He wished he could stroke your curves, fuck you here and hear your moans, even though it wasn't safe to do it here... Why was he imagining all this? Now? He wasn't a twenty year old with raging hormones anymore! While fantasizing about you for less than a minute, he felt his cock harden in his black pants.

"Shit..." he swore into his beard as he looked down at his nearly invisible boner before feeling himself. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to scroll through the most sickening images before his eyes that his brain could produce. His erection didn’t subside. When he opened his eyes, he swiveled slightly to the side, you had stood up and turned your beautiful and cute face towards him.

Without noticing his crotch problem thanks to the dim light and his dark pants, you moved closer to him, still rubbing your arms. It didn't escape his gaze and instinctively, he helped you to warm up with these frictions, much more efficient than you with his thick and chalky hands.

"T-Thank you, Captain..." you stammered, as your cheeks flushed with the closeness. You had always been attracted to Redfield, from the first time you saw him and talked to him. You liked everything about him: his kindness, his open-mindedness, his grumpy and stubborn side, his authority... Your face so close to his muscular chest, his hands on your arms, you dreamed of a simple hug, but you couldn't afford it... He was your superior! Suddenly, a bang and a shake from below pulled you out of your little bubble moment. You clung to his biceps, bumped into his chest and your lower abdomen pressed against his erection.

Your cheekbones flushed even more, if that's possible. You weren't that naive, you knew you were the reason for his erection. Your heart missed a beat. Your whole body was on fire. You had wanted Chris... for a long time. Some nights you dreamed of him, of him fucking you so hard. He was completely your type, even though you were in the middle of a major operation, you needed to kiss him, to enjoy the moment. Your breath quickened and you both stood up, bewildered

"I'm sorry, Y/N...” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

Too late to apologize, you wanted him to do everything you'd been dreaming of for months... Fuck you to the point you forget your own name.

"Kiss me." You cut him off, nervously. Was it right? No one could judge you at the time, but morally... You were a little confused. After all, he was your captain, your leader!

Without hesitation, Chris framed your face between his two thick, stubby hands. He pressed his lips to yours for a passionate kiss. One of his hands slid to your waist as your tongues danced wildly. It didn't feel wrong. You were ecstatic. It was as if you had known him for years and trusted him with your heart. Desire... Something that was hard to avoid. Hands everywhere, seeking body heat, discovering a new body. You admired his toned chest, tracing his abs and smooth skin with your fingertips, sensually.

It was a dangerous game to embark on a quick fuck, in such a place, that day, but you needed this. You couldn't imagine what was going to happen in the next few hours and you reminded yourself that life was short, especially these days... As much as possible, you needed to enjoy this sweet, sexual moment.

In a few moments, he ran his fingers over your body, pulled up your sweater, pulled down your bra to reveal your breasts, which he enjoyed titillating and kissing with fervor. Shivers ran through your whole body. Your pussy was getting wet and your wetness was sticking to the fabric of your panties. He got rid of your pants, while you opened his, lowered them, along with his boxers. With joy, you discovered a large and long veiny penis, reddish, twitching with desire. His kisses and embraces warmed your skin, feeling his lips brush against your chest, a teasing look on his face, to excite you like you'd never been before.

"Captain... Warm me up... I'm freezing..." you whispered in the hollow of his ear, mischievously.

His thumb traveled to your warm, wet center, between your thighs, before he gets ride of your panties. As he tickled your most sensitive part, you closed your eyes and a soft moan escaped your lips. He was experienced, that was obvious. He varied the pressure and movements on your clit to bring you up to cloud nine. His expert fingers plunged into your warmth, coming to tickle your oh-so-sensitive vaginal walls, while you craved his huge cock. You were trembling and exuding desire. You bit your lower lip to avoid being loud, at the same time you felt your first orgasm rising and before you could reach it, he stopped his movements. You opened your eyelids and came to caress his erect, hard member, its red head, covered with precum... You salivated with impatience. You made some movements of back and forth with your hand and if you dreamed to suck him, to make him beg you to make him cum, you knew that you didn't have much time, but you kissed the tip. Sighs of pleasure, almost inaudible, passed the barrier of his lips, as he threw his head back.

"Let me warm you up, Y/N..."

Finally, he stopped you in your tracks and with a simple gesture, you jumped. Your legs were wrapped around his pelvis as he supported you by your buttocks. With your back pressed against the wall behind you, you couldn't move as he was about to lead the way. The head of his pinkish cock titillated your wet, hot entrance, which begged him to take you. He knew how to drive you crazy, to the point where you dreamed of forcing him to impale you. Seeming to guess in your thoughts, to read in your eyes veiled with desire, he was in you with a single thrust.

"Oh fuck..." he moaned. You whined slightly together at the sensation. He let you adjust to his size before he began to move back and forth. The faster and more intense his thrusts were, the more you struggled to stay quiet. With one hand, he pressed his hand against your mouth as you tightened your legs around his hips, one hand on his buttocks to push his member further into you while the other played with his hair. You were drunk with love, with sex.

“Faster… Harder…” you wanted to say.

He quickened the pace, so much so that the pleasure became intense. Raucous moans escaped from his lips as you sobbed against his hand. You were gradually approaching orgasm, both at the same pace... At that moment, we could just hear your skins snapping, your faint moans, and the sound of your juices.

"You feel so good... So tight…" he whispered.

As your vagina tightened around his member during your orgasm, he lost control of his rhythm, he pounded into you brutally and it didn't take him long to ride his own orgasm. The feeling of intense well-being and euphoria took hold of him, letting his hot cum pour into your clenching pussy, filling you completely. Gradually, his movements stopped, although he was still supporting you... He finally withdrew, as droplets of his semen flowed from your orifice, reddened, until then martyred by his cock. A smile of satisfaction and euphoria stretched his lips.

"We should do this again when we leave this fucking village. " he annouced while sending you a wink.

***

Instagram (writer) : @carolinemertz_ 

AO3 : maybe one day? Still waiting to create an account aha

Like Adam & Eve (Chris Redfield x Sherry Birkin)

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Sherry Birkin

Warnings: age gap + smut + wrap your biscuit, please

Request:

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. :)

****

He was beautiful. So handsome. Tall. Muscular. In his early 40s. Intelligent. Open-minded. Honest. Brave. Selfless. All this despite his impulsiveness.

She had known him for years. Since 1998, after the events of Raccoon City and Rockfort Island, when she was under government protection. On several occasions, Leon and Claire had come to visit her; him with them. She was only 12 years old at the time. He was already 25. He saw her as a scared little girl. A child to defend from this cruel world, from her past with her parents... In 1998, the attraction she had developed towards him was only innocent, of course. With no ulterior motives.

The years passed and the number of meetings multiplied. The more she became a woman, the more she wanted to attract his attention, joking with him, telling him about her boyfriends to spark off some kind of jealousy deep in him. She voluntarily wore clothes that emphasized her feminine attributes, although she didn’t have JLO's curves...

For four years, their paths didn’t cross again, until June 2013. President Benford's death, Simmons' betrayal... But there he was. They hadn't been teammates because they didn't share the same mission, but the same conflict had brought them together. Once again, she had not been able to enjoy his presence, to savor it, except on the plane back to the United States.

Sitting between him and Jake, she chatted with Chris Redfield, Wesker's archenemy, her former godfather and her late father's best friend. She was talking to him, her eyes sparkly, her lagoon-colored doe eyes riveted on him, while a smile stretched her rosy lips. Her features, still somewhat juvenile, despite her 27 years, gave her a baby face. She was beautiful. Radiant. In spite of all that she had lived; horrors. He also had his fill of BOWs. Together, they were making up for the time and she even caught herself, almost innocently, sliding her hand over his bicep as she reassured him. Redfield was still not out of his mental breakdown. It had been going on for months and getting back on track was proving difficult.

"Would you like to drink a beer, one day?" she asked in a honeyed voice.

"Oh... I don't know, I'm exhausted..."

Yet his answer didn't make her face fade. The young blonde needed more.

"Oh, come on, Chris! Please, it's been ages since we've spoken... When's the next time? When there will be another bioterrorist attack?"she sighed with a pout.

"Well... Okay, but only once. I have a lot of work to do, you know."

A smile triumphed on Sherry's face as she simply nodded and thanked him. The brown hair man took advantage of it to go towards the toilets of the private jet and at the moment he disappeared in this cabin, Jake patted the shoulder of the blonde. A malicious smile stretched the fine lips of the redhead, clearly amused by the situation. He wasn’t blind.

"You devour him with your eyes, Birkin... What are you waitin’ for to ‘sweet-talk’?"

"I... He's not interested..." she stammered, embarrassed. These simple words reminded her of the day when Redfield had pushed her away, indirectly, without her knowledge. Jill and him were talking, in Claire’s garden, because she had organized a party where all her friends, fighting the bioterrorism, had been invited. It was a mistake. She just wanted to get some fresh air... A bad mistake.

It was hot. Way too hot inside. Sweat was clinging to her skin and even her glass of iced water, after the two glasses of alcohol she'd ingested, wasn't helping to bring her body temperature down. The summer of 2009 was proving to be more overwhelming than she had anticipated. The hubbub in the room was giving her a headache. Leon already seemed to be completely drunk and Claire was chaperoning him. Meanwhile, Sheva and Barry were talking to each other. There were also other agents she only barely knew. Discreetly, she fled the house and, immediately, her body tingled with the coolness of the night. It was pleasant.

Once again, she brought her glass to her lips and the cold liquid flowed down her throat. As she listened to the song of the crickets, whispers made their way to her ear canals. Curiosity overcame her and she moved towards the two voices; a woman and a man. She pressed herself against one of the walls, silent, and recognized who the voices belonged to: Jill and Chris.

"Don't you see how she's looking at you? Chris! You're blind!"

"Jill... Seriously, I think you're fretting over nothing. Sherry sees me as a big brother and I see her as a little sister or a cousin."

A sigh escaped the brunette's lips.

"I'm not fretting. There are looks that don't deceive... Look, I'm not jealous, but I'm telling you what I see. Put up barriers before she takes it as... An invitation."

"All right, if it makes you happy."

Heartbroken, hands shaking, stomach clenched, throat knotted, the little blonde went back inside and no one seemed to have noticed her short absence. She sat down on the sofa, next to Claire, putting back on her mask... The mask of a happy person. The man she had been interested in for eleven year saw her as a little girl, a sister.

What were you thinking, Sherry? He's been with Jill for ages, she's gorgeous, she has the look of a real woman... She's full of qualities. She's not a Birkin! her conscience shouted.

The barriers he put in place? He hadn't seen her in years. Four years, to be exact. It was extreme, and even though Jill had told him it was too much, he'd felt it was the right thing to do, if his girlfriend's assumptions turned out to be true. And while Chris had tried to reassure Jill, when they were still together, he was reassuring himself at first. He had observed her chest and her bottom, on several occasions, during a few seconds. He had almost drowned in her cerulean eyes too. It had become so difficult not to look at her.

Now, Chris, needed to be alone. Only two minutes and the bathroom would prove to be the perfect excuse. Now, in front of the stall mirror, he watched his reflection. Droplets of blood adorned a part of his right cheek. His blue eyes looked tired, lost.

You accept once and you make her understand that there will never be anything between you... Right?

There had to be. He couldn’t allow himself to build a relationship with a woman he had known as a child, it would be indecent and would call into question his image, his values. He was afraid of looking like an old pig, of proving Valentine right, even though they had broken up in November 2012. All these thoughts provoked profusions of sweat, that he tried to mop up with his back hand. When he closed his eyes, for a moment, the features of the beautiful Birkin came back to his face like a slap. Her angelic eyes, her superb smile, her cleavage, her butt... A bump formed inside his boxer, and his eyes widened.

It is tiredness, nothing else... he reassured himself.

And, in a vain hope, he imagined his grandmother in atrocious underwear, until his erection disappeared. Once sure of himself, he left the toilets, went towards Sherry and whispered: "we’ll agree on the place and the hour for the beerby message, tomorrow" and he moved away to find Leon, in full discussion with Helena.

Move away... Move away... Move away...

*

Sherry had done everything to make him come to her house, to drink the beer. She had tried to put on clothes that would highlight her, a simple skirt that didn’t reveal too much and a simple crop top with straps. He had arrived with five minutes of advance and quickly, the beer had been consumed. She hadn’t left him time to speak, to express his desire to break off all ties, to explain her there would never be anything between them, that she started up a movie. A comedy focused on sex, a strategic way to relax the atmosphere that was getting heavier. Indeed, the more she stayed by his side, the more she dreamed of letting her graceful fingers run over the protruding muscles of the man, from his arms, to his torso, passing over his thighs that she dreamed of straddling until the orgasm. She often dreamed of him, of what he made her, his dick inside her. From minute to minute, discrete, she approached him, by light movements, in natural although calculated appearance... Her ass was close to him, to the crotch of the B.S.A.A’s Captain.

He, Chris, had understood the stratagem. However, impossible to emit the least remark. Every time he opened his lips, he was unable to... hurt her. He knew if he said what was in his mind, he would hurt the young woman. Not to help, his cock was so close to Birkin's tender buttocks and her jasmine scent intoxicated him. She nibbled on her lower, wet, luscious, lower lip; a call to kiss. A new erection showed up and he was quite happy that the covers above them prevented the blonde from noticing it.

He tried his best to be focused on the movie, until a sex scene appeared on the screen. Embarrassed by this scene combined with his proximity to the blonde, he cleared his throat and looked away at Sherry's coffee table. Her crystalline laughter attracted his attention and he gazed at her. His cock continued to tense; it was becoming disturbing. The desire was growing and he was struggling. An internal struggle he wasn’t winning.

"Chris! Don't be embarrassed, it's only a movie and then... Well... I think it's funny how they make some positions look simple!" she said while batting her eyelashes. If she didn’t know yet the power that she possessed, it didn’t change the fact he wanted to devour her. To jump on her. Kiss her.

"That's because you haven't found the right partner..." he whispered.

He couldn't help it. It was the truth and... And what? His brain wasn’t running smoothly anymore. If only someone could shake him, slap him, to bring him back to his goals.

"Oh yeah? Explain to me..."

The blonde turned around and in her swiveling, her buttocks rubbed against his hard cock. The way she had rubbed herself wasn’t accidental, far from it, it was guessable. And he guessed she had felt his erection. A smile stretched Sherry’s lips who slid a hand on the thigh of the soldier, so close to his erect member. The blonde's eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned over him. Chris gulped with difficulty. He dreamed to stroke her breast, to sink into her, to show her he was right.

"Show me, then." she added, of a suave voice.

She was the one who initiated the kiss by pressing her lips against his. With this last lost control, he let his hands wander on her beautiful body. His thick and calloused hands sought her chest, under her crop-top, whereas she wasn’t wearing a bra. He quickly removed the garment and tossed it somewhere in the living room. As he kissed Sherry, he titillated her breasts, her erected nipples. Soon, their lips pulled apart and he licked her nipples, drawing sighs of pleasure from his partner.

He no longer cared about what was right or wrong. If she was too young or not. If he had known her as a kid or not. It didn't matter.

Meanwhile, Sherry took off Redfield's shirt, slid her phalanges between each line of his abs, before attacking his belt. Once rid of this one, she opened the button of his jeans, then took his zipper down. She didn’t seek to get rid immediately of his pants. Instead, she stroked his hard cock through his boxers for a few moments, which made Chris sigh. Finally, she freed his cock from this confined place to admire it, her mouth watering. It was very thick, probably 7,4inches (19 centimeters) long, completely hard, veiny, with a pink head. Some pre-cum covered the tip. With a false look of innocence, she ran her fingers over his balls, on his cock, to the head, then placed kisses on it.

"Sherry..." breathed Chris, his eyes half-closed, watching her. She looked up at him and licked his cock. Again and again. After titillating him, she took him her mouth, her perfect lips wrapped around his member, moving back and forth with wet noises. She insisted on the most sensitive places, in particular on the tip, while she massaged his balls. Her heart beat was off the charts, following the example of that of his sexual partner.

She did everything to please him, to receive his compliments and when the first ones came, such as "nice girl", "oooh... perfect...", her heart swelled with joy. When he asked her to stop, she complied, moved her thong to the side and came to rub her wet intimacy against Redfield's penis as he grunted with excitement... With anticipation... She was having fun rubbing his head at her vagina entrance. She was torturing him.

"Chris... Tell me you want me..."

"Sherry..."

"Please. Say it. I want you so much... If I could make you my God, I would..." she squeaked without stopping her movements.

"Goodness, yes! I want you Sherry! I want you like I haven't wanted a woman like that in so long!"

That's all it took for the blonde to impale herself on Redfield's cock, not waiting for him to finger her. It was a waste of time in an unexpected situation she never thought she'd ever succeed to provoke. There she was, straddling his cock, with delicious moans. Sometimes, she threw back her head, sometimes she lowered her eyes on their sexes, watching this huge cock moving inside her, stretching her in the most pleasant way.

Chris couldn't believe it. It was as if he was a spectator... As if he was possessed... Yet he was heaving a great time and his thrusts joined Sherry's movements to help her. His hands had found their way on Birkin’s milky hips. Then, he made her roll and lie down on the sofa. He got rid of his pants and his boxer, just like her thong and the skirt. He penetrated her again in a grunt, folded the thighs of the blonde against herself and pounded in her of brutal pushes. Fast. A pleasant revenge for having provoked him... To have made him leave the right way.

She was Eve. He was Adam. The forbidden fruit? Her pink pussy, martyred by his cock.

The blonde moaned and she didn't need to play with her clit to get off. Chris was naturally gifted, as she had imagined in all her dreams since she was a teenager. He was hitting the right angle, the G-spot. It felt so good that she couldn't say anything except let her vocal cords do the talking... Just her luck that her downstairs neighbor had gone on vacation!

"God... Chris... Keep going... Like this...!"

He didn't stop, he let the pleasure continue to climb, until they were close to orgasm. He closed his eyes as her vaginal walls pulsed around him, like a soft vise around his cock, a sign that her orgasm was hitting her hard. She was cheering him. Struck by his own orgasm, Chris grunted and let his seed paint the blonde's walls. His cock throbbed after the four hot spurts of cum. With a sigh, he pulled out and opened his eyes again. His cum was flowing out of her still convulsing pussy in the most erotic way possible. Gradually he caught his breath and let Birkin's legs fall back. The latter was smiling, her face and chest pink.

My God, what have I done...?he thought.

Yet he didn’t escape like a thief.

*

No, instead, they often slept together. If he tried not to have any attachment, he couldn’t help but stay always longer than he should, whether it was in Sherry's bed, in her shower, or inside her. The more time he spent, the more addicted he became to her, like a drug. It was worse than meth. He couldn't get off it. Little by little, he was falling. No, in fact, he was falling in love with the one he had always denied himself.

Asleep, Sherry was sleeping naked, stuck against him, their legs intertwined, under the moonlight that filtered into the room. She hadn’t closed the shutters. One of her hands were flattened against one of his biceps. He contemplated her curves and her angel face. Tenderly, his fingers slid along the spine of his partner. He didn’t manage to sleep, torn between his duty and his desires.

He had obviously spoken about it to Claire who... Didn't see any harm in it. In fact, really open-minded, his young sister had advised him to start a relationship with Sherry, if he liked the blonde.

"You deserve that! Nobody can judge you when you bleed to save the world every day!" she had whispered while hugging him.

Did he love Sherry? Yes, he recognized the same signs as he had for Jill a decade earlier when he realized he was madly in love. Today, his heart claimed Sherry. Deep down, he knew she was waiting for this, she would accept to start a relationship with him, she was dying for it and if it frightened him a few weeks earlier, now the idea warmed his heart. In a tender gesture, he placed a kiss on Sherry's forehead, whose eyes fluttered as she awoke from her sleep. Slowly, her eyes opened and locked with Redfield's.

"What is it Chris...?"

"I'm sorry I hurt you so much..." he whispered in a husky voice.

The woman's eyebrows furrowed, and she straightened in the middle of the bed, inviting him to continue.

"All these years I knew you wanted me and I acted like I didn't know anything about it, pushed you away as much as possible and... Even though my heart was taken, I regret it. Sherry... I..."

He straightened up in turn and his thick hands framed Sherry's face.

"What I mean is... I love you. I'm a loser when it comes to love confessions, but it's been said."

The blonde burst out laughing then stole a soft kiss from him.

"All that matters now is that we're together. Okay?"

In the end, yes, that was all he cared about. Chris knew he had to think of himself and that meant loving Sherry without any remorse.

***

My AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetrayedWriter/profile

Surprise me, Redfield (Chris Redfield x Moira Burton)

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Moira Burton

Warnings: age gap?

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. :)

***

She was Barry's oldest daughter. The little Moira he saw at every barbecue of his colleague and friend. While he worked as a cop as S.T.A.R.S. member, she played Barbies and went to elementary school.

A child of 1991. And him? An old guy from 1973.

She could have been his daughter, if he had had her young. He felt bad that he thought she was cute, even though she wasn't his type, basically. He liked the curve of her lips whenever she smiled or laughed, as well as the way her eyes shone with mischief.

She was morally forbidden to him. She had just turned 30 and, naturally, Barry had invited him to her birthday party. Like him, she hadn't found love, preferring to devote herself to her career as an agent since 2011... After she and Claire were trapped and plunged into horror.

Now, he was watching her devour her piece of cake, under his gaze, while he had already finished his. He looked away from those so appetizing lips, which called him, tormented him. It had been years since he had seen Moira and for some reason, he wanted to see her. To talk to her. To kiss her. To spend a night between her thighs. Afterwards, he would cherish his memories.

"Chris, are you okay? You seem miles away", Barry remarked, raising an eyebrow to support his questioning.

Chris cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about the last time I celebrated my birthday with family members."

A good excuse. A real excuse. Barry nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and warned him he would go get a few beers.

Redfield felt the call of nicotine, it burned in his veins, but he counted on it to calm his ardors. He put down his plate, then headed outside the house, to sit in the grass of the garden, out of sight. Immediately, he slipped one of the cigarettes between his lips, and lit it with his favorite Zippo. He took a drag, then a second one. Gradually, his shoulders relaxed; he loosened up. The door to the garden creaked, snapping him out of his pause, and he swung his head around. There she stood behind him, two beers in hand, and she joined him, sitting down at his side. She handed him back a beer, which he gladly accepted, as he finished his cigarette.

"It seems you're sulking, Redfield." she commented.

"I'm exhausted, I haven't gotten my energy back since my last mission..." he sighed before crushing the butt of his cigarette under his shoe and then picking it up out of courtesy.

Finally, he took a sip of his beer, his eyes riveted on the flowerbed a few meters away. Barry's wife had always had a green thumb and it wasn't going to change, obviously.

"Well? You're getting old!" she laughed before putting a hand on his shoulder.

At her remark, he swallowed with difficulty and moistened his lips. He had celebrated his 48 years in January and even if his body remained tonic, imposing, that his mentality wasn't so old, these simple words reverberated in his mind like a painful mentra. Old... That's what he was.

"Probably..."

Chris turned his head to the brunette who was staring at him, her eyes mischievous, as Redfield's gaze fell on her full lips. A piece of cake had taken up residence at the corner of her lips, conferring her an innocent look. He would have loved to kiss her and collect that piece of cake, but when he was about to lean toward her, he thought better of it and tightened his grip around the beer. No, he couldn't do that. At the time of Raccoon City, she used to call him "Uncle Chris" even though they didn't share a drop of blood... And Barry would even strangle him at his age, being 61.

"My dad told me that you gave me a gift of $500. Thank you, that's very generous... But not very sought, Mr. 'I'm busy all the time', ah!" she scoffed.

Money wasn't a problem in their workfield, but it was still a lot... Maybe not enough for her. She wanted something else. Something more precious... Rare.

"I figured I wouldn't risk giving you a gift you wouldn't like. That's good thinking, right?"

Moira admired him for a moment and bit her lower lip. With her gaze, she imprinted his face in her memory, from his unshaven beard, to his blue eyes, to his thin lips or even the wrinkles that made his charm. For a long time, she hadn't seen him as an uncle, without any ulterior motive. But tonight, without her knowing why, she found him attractive...

"I know what kind of gift you can give me!" she announced.

She paused and talked again:

"Take me on a date."

Chris nearly choked with his saliva. Quickly weighing up the pros and cons, he nodded, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"When?"

"Surprise me, Redfield."

With that, the brunette got up, beer in hand, and headed home, smiling. Her heart was beating wildly, without imagining it was the same with Chris who couldn't believe it. In spite of himself, he was delighted by this invitation. Usually, he was the one to make the first move, but Moira seemed full of surprises...

Under his eyes, she rushed into the house.

He couldn't wait.

Even if Barry was going to kill him.

***

This was requested by an adorable reader named Jaina on AO3 :)

I know it's short compared to some of my works, but I had been busy and wrote this one on my cell phone aha

My AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetrayedWriter/profile

My instagram : @carolinemertz_

My twitter : @BetrayedWriter & @carolinemertz_

I'm gonna accept a few requests for Leon, Chris and Wesker, so don't hesitate if you have an idea (you can check my last work to make sure you like my writings) 💜

P.S : English isn't my first language

RE boys x reader (endometriosis headcanons)

Pairings: Leon S. Kennedy x reader - Chris Redfield x reader - Carlos Oliveira x reader - Albert Wesker x reader

Warnings: none

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. :)

***

LEON S. KENNEDY

- Leon would found out after three months of dating, when you would refuse to go to a restaurant with him.

- you would lay in bed curled up against yourself and refuse to move.

- "why don't you just take some medicine? The pain will go away in 30 minutes."

- at that moment, you would have no choice but to tell him about your illness, the symptoms and the impact on your private and professional life

- Leon would be hella confused but he would understand and accept it, before trying to do his maximum for you at each crisis

- But Leon is also an awkward person, he's uncomfortable with people in pain, so he would avoid you as best as he could

- The only thing he would feel comfortable with is food, he would bring you everything you need, before pretending to go to work

- He would panic from time to time and wouldn't hesitate to take you to the hospital, if the pain is very bad

- He would secretly buy books about endometriosis and consult a lot of websites, in order to avoid any surprises

- "Does it hurt when we have sex? Why didn't you tell me? Fuck..." he would start to panic, pacing in front of you, hands in his hair, ready to rip it out. Honestly, it would be as funny as it would be adorable.

"Leon, pain during sex isn't for everyone. Take a deep breath, okay?"

"Huh? Ohhhh! Okay, that makes me feel better."

- He'd kiss your forehead and go grab a beer to relax because that's how Kennedy relaxes when he's stressed

CHRIS REDFIELD

- If he was still in his twenties, he would have asked you to stop acting like you just got shot, but the years have softened him and the experiences have made him more compassionate. (Did you know that Chris was a fighter even as a member of S.T.A.R.S.?)

- He would know this from the beginning of your relationship and would be very patient and gentle.

- Like Leon, he would read everything he could find about endometriosis to know how to manage your attacks and relieve your symptoms

- He would give you lots of hugs, kisses and the best massages possible

- He would ask Claire and Jill for advice on a regular basis

- He would buy you relief food, the best painkillers and make sure you see the best doctors

- Chris would cook your favorite meals during every crisis, because the guy has cooking skills, since he raised Claire (and he had to handle a lot of things after his parents died) and would agree to watch your favorite movies, even the ones he hate so much.

- "Is this going to stop us from having a family?" he'd ask after a year of dating. Chris is father material and would love to start a family, despite all the risks involved. This would also be his way of asking you if you would wanna start a family with him.

CARLOS OLIVEIRA

- Carlos would be panicked. Really panicked. He'd be gnawing on his fingers until they were a a little bit bloody.

- He would ask you all the time what you need, what he can do for you and he would do it immediately.

- Like Chris, he knows how to cook and will use his skills to charm your taste buds to make you forget all your symptoms, especially the pain.

- Carlos would find THE solution: to make you laugh, to entertain you. It would start by doing a little dance, salsa while cooking, with a very kitschy apron.

- He would start singing with a sugar baby Russian accent in the most hilarious way (A/N: I have nothing against Russians, I just needed an example 💜) because he's very good at imitating accents

- He'd go so far as to twerk on you, when your pain would be less severe

- When you're better, he would take you to the spa so your body can relax and you can spend romantic moments together (he's a sentimental guy but he'll never say it out loud)

ALBERT WESKER

- You would have hidden your illness from him since you know he doesn't want a weak human, also because you knew how lucky you were that he considers you almost his equal

- The way he would find out? Albert would start planning to bring an heir into the world, without even telling you. First, he'd swap your birth control pill for a placebo without you even realizing it. Your symptoms would get stronger and you wouldn't know why for months, but you'd keep hiding it from him. For a few months, he would keep having sex with you, mostly based on your menstrual cycle. The fact that you didn't get pregnant would raise questions.

- He would start making more and more researches about your health, including your fertility. As an extremely intelligent and scientific man, he would quickly guess that you have endometriosis.

- At first, he would hesitate to break up with you, since you can't give him an heir.

- He would come around to the realization that he's really in love with you and would confront you about it before trying to reassure you, but... He's Wesker, not Chris.

- He would try to develop a treatment, even though it's not his field of research, and inject products into your body to make you hyper fertile. Then he would market his new products on the black market.

- Albert isn't the most understanding person, but he would make sure you that you take your treatments, eat properly and stay hydrated. He would also give you some massages.

- You would have by your side the best specialists because you are precious to him. After all, you are the Goddess of the next world.

***

Instagram: @carolinemertz_

AO3: BetrayedWriter

Hey! I'm taking some Resident Evil requests, especially headcanons with Albert Wesker, Leon S. Kennedy and Chris Redfield 😏

Body heat - Chris Redfield x reader

Request: Can you do a hate sex with Chris redfield x reader?

Warnings: smut + wrap your biscuit, please

Disclaimer: I’m french and even if I’m learning English for eleven 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. :)

***

Love was something particular. It could send jolts of happiness or break you in every way possible.

When Chris was younger, he was a heartbreaker, he would just have sexfriends and not give a shit. He thought he wasn't made to be in a relationship and many women hated him for that. Even with Jill, and all the sexual tension around them, he never made a move, because of the fear of breaking their friendship. Yet, he did try to be in a relationship with someone, but each time, it was a failure for the simple reason that these women didn't have the same pace of life as him. They blamed him for never being around, for being too tired to do a lot of things. They didn't understand him. He was just a sort of coin purse in their eyes.

The years passed and the hookups followed. Romantic, isn't it?

The missions, too. 

During his career, he had seen enemies and colleagues.

Y/N was... special. She was the partner he avoided the most, because she annoyed him so much. She annoyed him because she was often right. She didn't see things in black and white, she saw in grey. She was able to mitigate all situations. Even the enemies, she always found a reason for their actions. Even Wesker! What had she said last time? "Oh, you know Chris, he was raised by Umbrella. How can this man have been an angel? Who's to say we wouldn't have been the same, in his place?". 

She was confident and talented, into the bargain. He loved seeing the way her hips rolled, just like her butt, and watching the way a bead of sweat could roll down her delicate epidermis, between her breasts, after a long workout or stopping a bioweapons salesman. In short, she was hot and sexy. Yet he hated her for the little cutting remarks qhe she sent his way.

"Come on, Chris! I understand you're close to retirement, but you could go faster!" or "Stop looking at me like you're gonna pounce on me... Well, pounce, but not in that way at least."

She was doing everything to drive him crazy.

Now they were on a new mission, in the middle of winter, in Estonia. It had been a long time since Chris had been confronted with such a bitter cold. The snow never stopped falling and while it provided them with breathtaking scenery, the cold was biting his skin. Around them, blood soaked the beautiful white coat that covered the greenery and the asphalt. This little village was, shall we say... wild. Like the mission in Leon, Spain, in 2004. As much as to say, the villagers hadn’t been very welcoming. Not to help, you had no choice but to cross a frozen lake, on foot, taking huge risks. A few meters before you reached dry land, the ice gave way under your feet and you sank into the icy water. You had felt as if thousands of blade blades were sinking into your bodies, so painful was it.

"I told you we had to go around!" shouted Chris, annoyed.

You were walking along, shivering, just out of the lake. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, despite your uncontrollable teeth chattering.

"And we would have lost a good two hours! Stop yelling!"

"We could literally freeze to death! You don't realize!"

This time you were wrong, but there was no way you were going to admit it to inflate Chris Fucking Redfield's ego.

"Shut up, Redfield, or I'm gonna put one of your cigarettes in your ass, lightened up, so you won’t have to complain anymore about the cold!"

He huffed loudly like a teenager, while you just ignored him. 

Soon, you met an old man, a survivor of this massacre, who had not been contaminated by the virus, since he lived far away, between the village and the laboratories you had to inspect, in the hope of finding those responsible for this plague. That good man had left you his little wooden hut and lit the fireplace in his small living room to keep you warm, with animal fur coats, much warmer than your clothes. You were ahead of your mission and had time to spend a few hours in the warmth, the time for your clothes to dry as well as you, otherwise death would come and take you.

When you returned to the living room, wrapped in furs, you saw that Chris had done the same thing. You found yourself naked underneath and despite the warmth of the room, you were still shivering from the cold. With an expert glance, you noticed that your partner was shivering as much as you were. You sat down next to him on the sofa and observed his features, as well as the part of his torso that was revealed to you. You had seen him shirtless countless times, but you couldn't believe that a man of his age could still be so handsome and attractive. Too bad he was just a stubborn man who refused to trust you and listen to you.

But as the evening began, you had to put aside the acrimony between you two. You were both frozen and you knew of only one more solution, at this point... Delicately, you moved closer to him, until you glued to him.

"What are you doing?" he sighed, before turning his head towards you.

You plunged your gaze into his and offered him your most innocent look, while one of your hands caressed his biceps.

"I'm cold, so I'm trying to warm up."

"Mmmmh..."

Delicately, you let the furs slide over your shoulders to expose them and create a plunging neckline on your chest, while you revealed enough of your thighs. Of course, his eyes followed your movements and you noticed his breathing quicken.

"Y/N..."

"Chris..." you teased him, mimicking him.

"What game are you playing, exactly?"

"The one where we warm each other up."

He parted his lips, somewhat surprised and shook his head, when he understood what you were getting at.

"Nope."

"I'm not asking you to make love to me. I just want us to be able to stick together to increase our body heat."

"Fine." he grumbled. 

Without a warning, you climbed astride his upper thighs, at the edge of his crotch and removed the furs that were a barrier to your skins. A mischievous smile appeared on your face when you noticed that he was half hard. With the help of the blankets, you locked yourself inside them with him, and you placed your bare chest against his chest. Gently, you slid your hand down his chest. Suddenly, a heat spread in your lower belly. The man came to stroke the bottom of your back, at the limit of your buttocks.

"I think your thick and long friend down there like me, unlike you..." you whispered in his ear.

As an answer, he groaned, while you shifted a little, now your womanhood close to his friend.

"What if I do... this."

You started to roll your hips, your pussy grazing his hardening cock. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes, probably wrestling against himself to prevent his dick from getting hard... But it was too late. 

Suddenly, his thick calloused hands grabbed your hips and he pushed you against his cock.

"You wanna play, Y/N? Let's play!"

His hands forced you against him, making you shudder as sighs of desire escaped your lips. You could feel yourself getting wet and now, he was completely hard. Without mercy, he placed kisses on your neck and chest, before nibbling your skin, especially your hardened nipples. Yet you kept moving on his cock. One of his hands titillated your swollen clit with an expert touch that made you roll your eyes in pleasure as your hips continued to undulate on their own. The bastard was even more talented than you'd imagined...

"Fuck... Chris..."

"Shut up, L/N."

You bit your lower lip, as he was relentless on your clit, bringing you close to an orgasm... Until he stopped, removing his fingers.

"What the...?"

"We're playing according to my rules now. You don't get to orgasm." he groaned before he made you lay on the couch. 

"Jerk me." he ordered with a stern voice.

You looked at his thick veiny cock, red at the tip, begging you to be touched. When you took him in your hands, starting to stroke it, it twiched and Redfield sighed. You started to jerk him, looking at him in the eyes, as a provocation, with a mischievous smile.

"I hate you, but you're so fucking hot and perf..." he stopped himself and groaned.

"I can't wait for you to fuck me, Redfield."

You played with his cock, straightening in order to give him a blowjob, but he made you lay again. Before you could understand what was happening, he got your legs bending on your belly and pushed his hard cock inside you. You moaned at the same time. It felt so good, amazing. 

He began to pound you with his back, faster and faster, making you moan with pleasure, so much so that you forgot the existence of the old man, who had gone to look for some wood, close to the house. You slid a hand over his stomach and watched the way his muscles rolled over his skin. He was incredibly sexy, you couldn't deny it. The way he was fucking you, he was bringing out his resentment and that made the sex better! He was almost brutal.

"You're so big..."

"And you're so fucking tight... Feels amazing... You don't deserve this amazing pussy."

His eyes closed tight, his hair wet and beads of sweat mixed with the water from the lake, he looked like a demi-god. His long, thick cock kept thrusting inside you. The pleasure was more and more powerful, intense. You moaned his name as if your life depended on it. He was touching the best point in you, bringing you closer to your orgasm again. The brutality of his movements indicated that he was also getting closer to his climax. The sound of skin slapping together echoed through the living room. About to cum, he pulled out and sent you a victorious smile.

"Oh Redfield, don't play something like that with me..."

You smirked and grabbed him by the hips, forcing him to impale you again with a grunt. To prevent him from breaking free of your grip, you dug your nails into his back.

"Don't stop... Make me cum, finally show me you're a man!"

Considering the insult to his masculinity, he picked up the pace and this time, the orgasm overwhelmed you. Your whole body shuddered. Your screams of pleasure echoed through the house. Your tight vagina tightened around his cock, drawing ragged moans from him. His cock twitched as he squeezed your thighs harder. Finally, he poured into you in five hot streams of cum, spurting against your walls. 

"Fuck... fuck.... fuck..." he groaned.

He stayed inside you for a moment, gazing into yours as you smiled.

"I can confirm, you may be a man... But you'll still have to prove it to me, so I can be sure..." 

Slowly, he pulled out and watched his seed dripping out of your vagina, the sight was so erotic that he was ready to torment your vagina once again.

"So fucking hot... And we still have time for another round."

Hate sex was always the best. And if love was something particular, sexual attraction towards the person that annoys you is something indefinable.

***

Hey, readers! I hope you liked it! Also, I created a ko-fi account with small commissions at $1, $2 and $8 to support me and my work or tip me here since I'm broke😊💜

My Ko-fi: carolinemertz

My AO3: BetrayedWriter

My Instagram: carolinemertz_

Hey, I'm looking for someone in Europe to RP in the Resident Evil universe 🥰

If you're interested, you can send me a message 😊

"I know." He's got the day off, he should go buy you a ring, make things more permanent than they already are.

YOU CONVEY THE SENSE OF WANTING TO MAKE THINGS LAST SOOOOO WELL!! AHHHH SCREAMING UR SO 🥰🤩😍🤩🥰🤩😍🤩😍

this is life

note : divider is from @/the-aesthetics-shop. ermm never written Chris before idk how good this is and ik it's ooc and this is way short. this wasn't in my wip game thing because I started this like 4 hours ago but I love him very much so uh here I feel scared. is it obvious I don't know how to do a good description.

wc : 1.2k

tags : @lottiies

desc : like a lover should. fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst (not really tho), established relationship, any Chris but at the end it's post re8!Chris, fem!reader, not proofread.

Chris knows the sounds of explosions and gunfire more than he knows anything else. He knows the feeling of blood-soaked clothes and heavy bulletproof vests weighing down on his chest as if they’re meant to be worn everyday. He’ll never forget the weight of a gun in his hand, won’t forget how to curl his fingers around a knife and hold it outwards, waiting for whatever is going to lunge at him from the darkness.

But Chris knows the sound of your voice, too. Knows the feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips, how your weight feels lying on top of him late at night. He loves how your hand squeezes his, how your arms wrap around his neck to hold him closer.

His apartment became yours once you stepped into his life. Your makeup is scattered across the counter in his bathroom, your clothes are in his closet, your soaps are in his shower, the smell of his cigarettes quickly mixed with the smell of your perfume. Chris loves it, really. It didn’t happen overnight, Chris wasn’t around all that much, but you always waited and showed up whenever you wanted to, he gave you a spare key for a reason.

He thinks you care about him more than you should, that you shouldn't worry about him so much and that you don't need to give him a massage every time he comes home along with an actual meal instead of whatever food was being rationed out to him on his latest mission. But you do, every single time. Chris wishes you would sleep and not stay up texting him when he tells you he's on his way home, he won't admit that seeing your endless row of texts filling his screen with news of what he's missed over the past few days never fails to make him smile.

You've always known that what Chris does is dangerous, you don't know that he fights monsters straight out of sci-fi movies, but what matters to you is that he comes home in one piece. Truth is, you love him, and he lets you. Chris isn't always the easiest to love and care for, you know there are things he doesn't tell you, but the way he holds you in the morning while he's still asleep is something else entirely.

The time that you did learn about everything he did was after the Edonia and China mess.

You thought he left you, what else were you supposed to think when he went completely radio silent for almost a year? No one seemed to know where he was, you hadn't gotten any news that he was dead, so he had to still be alive, right? You still took care of his apartment, making sure no one broke in, you were hardly back at your own place the whole time he was away, you were just hoping that a few things would be moved around the apartment whenever you came to check on it, just a hint that he was back home and hadn't told you yet.

But he went to your home the night he came back, was there to catch you when you broke down and cried about all the horrible things you thought had happened to him. At least he showered before he came to you. He sounded like a broken record, apologizing over and over again while you just clutched onto his shirt with your head buried in his shoulder.

It took you maybe an hour to calm down, he had the decency to wait for you to stop hiccuping through your tears before he explained himself. You've got every right to be mad at him, and he knows you are, but he's sure you'll nag him some other time when you're not holding onto him like a lifeline.

You probably don't even believe what he's telling you about bioweapons, you don't even know what the fuck that word really means, but it's his job to get rid of them, play exterminator. You just sat there on your bed with a confused expression the whole time, leaning on his shoulder while you sniffled softly. They're monsters, that's how he described them, like something you see in nightmares.

"So... what, like... Godzilla, or something? That's what they are?" You asked him, eyebrows still knitted together. Chris just looked at you, not really sure how to tell you that the undead weren't even in the same category as some of the things he's fought over the years.

"Yeah, kinda." He didn't need to explain further, you were too tired to comprehend the horrors mankind could make. So he let you sleep, kept you in his arms the whole night. He'd wait until tomorrow to tell you he had to keep doing this until the day he died, but he promised to not keep you waiting the next time he leaves.

—

Chris decides that years later, when you're in the kitchen, sitting across from him at the table burping a baby over your shoulder, not his, not yours, that he can't lose you. He almost lost Jill, did lose Piers and Ethan, along with countless other teammates along the line. But now he's got Ethan's baby in his house, he told you more things about his job now, he told you what happened to Ethan and that Rose would be in his care for a little bit, you had only smiled at him.

He should've married you by now. God, what kind of man was he? Dating the woman of his dreams for over a decade and never even trying to propose? He doesn't know why you let him get away with that. You've long since moved in with him, all your things were practically in his apartment by the time he asked if you just wanted to stay and not leave, took absolutely nothing to convince you.

And looking at you with Rose in your arms finally makes him realize as he's pushing fifty that he should have settled with you sooner. Maybe you just never asked because of his job, maybe you were fine with how things were.

"Did you... ever want kids?" He mumbled, avoiding your gaze and instead staring into his coffee cup. You have to think for a second, still rocking the baby in your arms back and forth.

"One would've been nice." You answer him. Shit, now he feels like he's ruined everything.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I'm happy we waited." Chris looked up at you, not expecting to be greeted with the smile on your face. You stand up to put Rose into her highchair so you can go get your toast from the toaster, Chris follows you after a few seconds.

"Don't know how you put up with me," His hands find their way to your waist, pressing his chest to your back and resting his head against yours. His hands are still rough from years in battle, he doesn't think he'll ever really be able to relax, but you still love to dote on him whenever you can, it makes him feel like he's meant to be here with you.

"Well, you're quite handsome." Chris smiles and presses a kiss to the side of your head, there have been mornings like this hundreds of times, he can only hope for more in the future.

"You're too good to me."

"Lucky you,"

"I know." He's got the day off, he should go buy you a ring, make things more permanent than they already are.

LIZ DELIVERING WITH THE ATE SO HARD ERMMMM WHAT SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT QUICK AND SWEET just like you baby girl (RIZZ!?!?!?!?)

Chris is almost 50, but he pouts like a baby. It's almost cute. Almost. It would be if he hadn't made a fuss earlier.

AHHHHH I LOVE CHRIS HES LITERALLY SO ASFEOIWRUIUEWR HES SO BABY GIRL BUT ALSO DADDY AT THE SAME TIME???

"Fuck, okay, but I'm not waiting for you to get comfy. I am not getting frostbite on my dick."

HELP ERM WTF THATS SO FUNNY HES SUCH A SILLY OLD MAN

"Well, your dick is almost as big as your ego."

ong ik from personal experience (WHAT)

Except for the radio, which you realize you forgot to silence. "I guess we have some explaining to do," you say to Chris. "No need," says the voice on the other side, "we heard you loud and clear."

FUCKKKK THATS SO EMBARASSING I WOULD BE SOBBING CRYING AND BEGGING FOR FORGIVENESS I WOULD LITERALLY JUMP INTO HYPERSPACE AND GO BACK IN TIME AND FIX THAT

LITERALLY I DONT NEED THE GANG TO KNOW I FW HIM LIKE LITERALLY... HELP IF THIS IS ALPHA FROM RE8 BROOO WHATTTT TEWIRASIURIAUREWIU

off point but my friend wore like literally a chris fit to school yesterday and now im tweaking so hard... ughghghghghghghh

leather's in season

pairing: re8! chris x reader

tags/cws: semi-clothed sex, semi-public sex, implied to have had sex in the past, coworkers, p in v, cockwarming, the gloves stay on! (until they don't)

summary: chris and reader are bored on a stupid stakeout on a mission, waiting for hours in chris' car, and they're cold, pent up with frustration, and...

a/n: the gloves have me in a chokehold (jk but i wish they did)

div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 1.6k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @faysslut @leonfucker3000 @rigorwhoring @withonly-sweetheart

Contrary to popular belief, the worst part of fighting BOWs for a living is not the constant threat of death. It's the boredom in between the thrill of fighting — protecting the world from alphabetical viruses that can turn cities into zombies overnight gives you a sense of purpose. Sitting in the passenger seat of Chris' jeep makes you feel… absolutely nothing.

Okay, fine. It makes you feel something. It wouldn't be that big of a deal if you weren't trapped in the car with this man, with nothing to talk about, nothing to even think about besides the one drunken night you've avoided discussing for almost two months. You could go the rest of your life without mentioning it, and so could Chris. Except, when he takes his coat off, it's impossible not to notice his muscular frame, and when he groans in exasperation, it sounds so similar to that one time when —

"What?" Chris says, sounding ticked off, though you haven't done anything. You've only thought about doing things. Things you know he likes, for that matter.

"What do you mean 'what'?"

"You're staring at me."

"There's not much else to look at, since you're taking up like half my field of vision."

An exaggeration, of course, but he is a large man. In many ways.

"It's fucking cold in here. Can I turn on the heat?"

"No. You'll burn through the battery. And it's not even that cold."

Men. They'll wear basketball shorts in the snow. Of course he'd say it's not that cold.

Chris pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Could you at least roll down a window if you're going to do that in here?"

"No," he says, "it's cold out there."

"I thought it wasn't that cold," you mock him.

He lights it despite your protests. He's the boss here — a fact he reminds you of at every opportunity. "It isn't. But it would be—"

You snatch the cigarette from between his lips, take a drag and blow the smoke into his face.

"What the fuck was that for?"

You not-so-subtly go into a coughing fit, having never smoked before. You hand it back to Chris, looking off to the side, knowing he'll make fun of you if you look at him. He takes it from you gingerly like it's a prized possession.

Minutes go by, the cigarette discarded in the ashtray in the center console, you pop a stick of gum in your mouth.

"Can I have one?" Chris asks.

"It's the last piece. Sorry." You're not really that sorry.

Chris is almost 50, but he pouts like a baby. It's almost cute. Almost. It would be if he hadn't made a fuss earlier.

"You can have it," you say, "I don't really want it anymore."

"Okay…" he says, suspicious — no, curious — about how you plan to exchange the gum you're offering him.

"Come here," you beckon him with a finger.

It's a trick as old as he is, but if nothing else, sitting in this car has made the both of you desperate, so he takes the bait and lets your lips touch.

It's quick, you play it off as a simple transaction, but Chris is nothing if not predictable. He grabs you by the cheek and kisses you again, harder this time, just as you expected him to — he takes control because he can.

"Get in the backseat," he says with a commanding, yet matter-of-fact tone that sounds similar to the one he uses with you in the field.

"Is that an order?" You ask, teasing him as he gets out of the driver's side, closes one door, opens another, and slides into the backseat.

Your eyes meet through the mirror on the windshield.

"You wanna stay warm, I'll help you, but I expect you to drop the attitude."

You want to be warm, and more importantly, you want to be closer to Chris, so you shut your mouth and get in the backseat.

Age, for Chris, just means extra gray hairs on his head and a greater proclivity for aches and pains after long days in the field. He's yet to lose that animalistic urge to tear your clothes off your body.

Your gear is long forgotten, lying idle in the front seat, but your turtleneck – skin-tight like Chris' – is very much still covering your top-half, a hindrance to Chris. His fingers fiddle with the fabric but you're quick to push his hands away.

"I told you, it's fucking cold."

"But I wanna see you," he says, with the voice of a middle-aged man, but the conviction of a whiny child, "I bet you look so pretty."

"You already know what I look like," you say, "unless you've forgotten."

"I could never forget that," he says between hungry kisses, "I've been thinking about the way you looked that night everyday since, which is why I want to see you like that again."

His lips find your neck, then his teeth tug your earlobe. "I'll make it worth your while," he says into the shell of your ear.

You agree to let him take your shirt off because when he's not demanding, he's convincing.

But he can't will his hands to heat up and he can't convince you that they're not cold. You shiver against his touch.

His solution is simple: keep the gloves on.

The feeling of leather against your skin is new, but Chris' deft touch is familiar. You know what his fingers feel like inside you, rubbing against your g-spot, making you cum with his hand over your mouth in the fucking supply closet. Only the location has changed, instead of a door, there are tinted windows. No one else is around (you hope), you can only hear the occasional voices of members of your squad coming from the radio.

You agree to strip when Chris offers you his coat (in addition to a place on his lap) to keep you warm. With you head tipped back, resting on his shoulder and his hands between your thighs, you say, without a thought in your mind, "I want you to fuck me."

You hear his breath hitch and feel his cock strain against his pants and you know he feels the same.

"Fuck, okay, but I'm not waiting for you to get comfy. I am not getting frostbite on my dick."

"Don't worry, I can handle it."

He hums, knowing you're likely overestimating your abilities but dying to be inside you nonetheless.

He lifts you up momentarily and you hear the clink of his belt and the zipper of his pants. He takes them down just enough to get his cock out. Without warning, he takes your hips and shoves it inside you, one deep thrust burying himself to the hilt.

It makes you gasp, it makes you whimper. Arousal makes you overconfident and the stretch is payback for your hubris.

"You're fine," he says. "You can take it."

"It's too much, I-I can't."

"Not my fault you're so fucking tight. Shoulda known based on your attitude."

"Well, your dick is almost as big as your ego."

It's hard to insult him when you're naked – aside from his coat – perched on his cock.

He laughs, rare and sweet – and proud. "Not my fault, either."

Chris' fingers, still covered by his leather gloves, play with your clit, making your walls flutter around him, every spasm elicits a grunt from him, and it only spurs you on – you try to lift yourself up, prepared to ride him like it's your life's purpose, like it's the mission you're in the middle of fucking nowhere to complete. He stops you, grabs your hips and holds them steady against his.

"What the fuck?" you say, pissed off (about how much his insistence on controlling the situation turns you on). "I thought you were gonna fuck me. This isn't fucking, I'm just sitting on your dick."

"Oh, it's not fucking?" he says. "Guess you're easy to please then, 'cause all I've done is stick my dick in you and you're about to fucking cum."

"I am not," you say, in a whine, as your cunt betrays you, clamping down around him, making it nearly impossible for him to fuck you if he wanted to.

Instead of taunting you, he takes his gloves off, shoves two fingers in your mouth and rubs your clit with more precision, more dedication to this mission.

"Cum for me," he whispers in your ear when he knows you're close.

You try to talk back. "Is that an or– oh my fucking god," your orgasm cuts you off. His hand covers your mouth before you can scream his name, and it's probably better that way. You're embarrassed enough as it is when you notice that you've soaked the front of his pants.

"You didn't–" you start, realizing he didn't cum. You're not sure if you should be grateful or offended.

"No, I have self-control," he says.

It's fucking reverse psychology whether he intends it to be or not – insulting you just makes you even more determined to make him cum, to pay him back.

"Oh yeah?" you challenge him as you sink to your knees.

He doesn't respond, doesn't protest. He lets you suck him dry.

You watch him go through the stages of pure bliss while you bask in the knowledge that you did this to him.

It's quiet finally, no arguing, no skin-on-skin, no moaning.

Except for the radio, which you realize you forgot to silence.

"I guess we have some explaining to do," you say to Chris.

"No need," says the voice on the other side, "we heard you loud and clear."

this fic cured my scabies 🥹🩷

♡ Up all Night ♡

A/N: It was 1D's 14th anniversary recently and I wrote these to celebrate it. Happy birthday to Niall too <3 #foreveraniallgirl. This is just a silly post to celebrate those imagines/fics I used to read all the time 😭Typos and errors are intentional to really bring it back to that era of fics :3 BTW thanks for 100 followers!! :33 I will be doing something to celebrate so please look out for it.

CW: mentions of death / medical malpractice?? (idk), Emetophobia -- none of these topics are in depth. cringe writing fr

Imagine: Chris taking you to your first gynecologist appointment 💙

When Chris heard you were in your twenties and had never been to the gynecologist, he made you an appointment immediately. No partner of his was going to miss out on a Pap smear. If he was going to continue the Redfield blood line, he had to make sure that womb was healthy.

You’re holding his hand tightly. “Chris, I’m so scared…”

Chris shakes his head, “don’t worry, Y/N. I picked someone I trust a lot. I love you and you don’t have to be scared.” Chris heads up to the receptionist, checking you in for your appointment.

“Hello Y/N, we’ve been expecting you. Just go straight and head to the dor on your left and your doctor will be waiting for you.”

With a nod, you and Chris head to the door. You open the door, seeing…

Doctor Albert Wesker.

Wesker sits there handsomely in his white lab coat. “Y/N…” he greets, taking off his sunglasses. His red orbs piercing through you and sending a shiver down your spine.

Then his eyes narrow at Chris. “And Chris…” Sometimes you can feel the sexual tension between him and Wesker but your boyfriend is just a metrosexual.

“Lie down, Y/N. I will make sure your womb is sufficient enough to carry Chris’s seed.”

“Ok.”

You undress and get on the table. Your legs in the stirrups. Wesker’s nose scrunches up in disgust. Gah, Virginia. He never gets used to seeing them.

Chris is sitting on the chair, watching everything.

Albert scoots up in his swivel chair. He spreads your outer and inner labia. He inserts the speculum. The pain is intense (an: for real. personal experience 😓😂)

But something doesn’t feel right. Suddenly there’s a flood of liquid. Then Albert starts laughing maniacally.

Chris stands up immediately, shoving Wesker away. “What did you do to them!?!?!,!” He shouts, seeing the black liquid spill from your entrance.

“You fool. Did you think I was going to perform a Pap smear on them?” Albert laughs, pushing up his sunglasses and a glare reflects from them.

“This was just a ploy to release my uroboros and I thank you for your sacrifice, Y/N.”

Y/N cries. Their body writhing in pain. “Chris….” They sniffle. Their skin covered in sweat.

“Y/N I’m sorry. I didn’t expect this to happen.” Chris says, clutching your arm.

“It’s ok, Chris…”

“I..”

“Love…”

“…” Y/N takes her last breath.

“YOUR NAME!!!!!!!” Chris screams, falling to floor.

Rip Y/N. Fly high 🕊️

(mwuahahaha is y/n really dead or are they just passed out? will Chris save the world from Albert and his uroboros? Find out next time on… Pokémon xD)

Imagine: telling Carlos you love him for the first time 💙

It’s Saturday night. You and Carlos are watching TV in Jill’s rundown apartment. She’s never home and it’s better than letting it go to waste. Besides, you’re a poor college student. Carlos is currently on break from his last mission. All he wants to do is relax.

Carlos has been your friend since 9th grade. You’ve been glued to him ever since that faithful day, habouring a secret crush on the vaguely Brazilian/Portuguese man.

If it can be believed, Carlos used to be a scrawny little thing. No muscles, socially awkward, and liked to collect yu gi oh cards and beyblades.

Then one day, he was buff as hell. Like he took venom and became strong (an: venom like the venom bane from Batman injects in himself to become stronger. sorry a nerd xD). It doesn’t help that he looks so juicy like a piece of steak that you wanna sink your teeth in. Just oil him up daddy, he’s a little soup boy, chompa chompa (if you get that reference, ily <3)

Anyway, your on the couch with Carlos. He’s on one side and you’re cuddled into his side. He smells just like old spice 💙. The Nanny is playing on the TV, Fran is just so hilarious! She’s always getting into hijinks.

You can tell that Carlos is starting to get bored, his fingers are tapping on the armrest. You bite your lower lip as you look at him from the corner of your eyes. Every time you’re near him, you get butterflies. You just want him to be yours.

“Carlos?”

He sits up straighter, looking at you. “What’s up?”

For a moment, you’re quiet, wondering how to say what you want to say. All these years of secret pining is just building in your chest.

And so, you sit up too.

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” you start, an audible gulp leaving you. “And we’ve seen each other at our worst, break ups, that time you got stuck in my ear and would not get out,” you giggle cutely.

Carlos raises a brow, “uh huh…” He wonders what you’re on about, really.

“I love you, Carlos Oliveira!” You shout, blushing like a tomato.

A silence falls over the room, only Fran’s nasal laugh can be heard in the background.

Suddenly, warm chunks of vomit are spewed onto the floor, the wall, the end table, couch, and you. He stands up, holding his stomach. “As if I’d ever be in love with you, Y/N!” He’s appalled that you would think so. Disgusted that you thought you were on that level to be his partner.

Carlos runs out of Jill’s apartment. That’s the last time you ever see him.

He doesn’t answer your calls, texts, emails, mail, radio communications, or when you come over. In fact he moves and you don’t know where he lives. Probably in Bratugal (Brazil + Portugal, impressive I know).

Y/N cries themselves to sleep everyday until they end up filling their (Jill’s) apartment with their tears and die.

Imagine: Your boyfriend Leon is the only donor.

Leon’s by your side, holding your hand. You’re on the hospital bed, wearing a white gown. You’re clenching Leon’s hand so tight, he’s lost feeling in his hand.

“Babe, it’ll be alright. I’ll be here the entire time.” He lovingly reassures you. He’s so lovingly reassuring all the time, always lovingly hugging you and kissing you, he’s so lovable!

“But… what if something goes wrong? I don’t even know who the donor is,” you say, your eyes watering.

“It won’t, babe. It’s a simple procedure.” He says, caressing the back of your head. He kisses the crown of your head as the doctor comes in.

“It’s time, Y/N.” Doctor Albert Wesker says, holding a clipboard.

You nod, “yes sir.”

You look at Leon.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

That’s the last thing you remember before getting knocked out (not physically, they gave you medicine!).

When you wake up, you’re looking for Leon. Your mouth is sore. Like you were chewing rocks.

Soon, Leon comes striding in. His head wrapped in gauze. Your eyes are wide, “Leon, what happened?”

As soon as Leon opens his mouth, you’re horrified. Just blackness with two front teeth. “Bab I told yew it’ll be ok,” he says with a laugh. “I was the only match for your teef.”

Oh my god, you think. Without teeth, Leon is so scary. Yeah he has those two in the front but… then it dawns on you. His teeth are in your mouth. You’re going to get cavities, gum decay, and no saliva because he drinks a lot.

You grab the plate that’s on your table stand and whack him in the head with it.

Leon dies on impact.

Immediately you regret it and cry for alber to come back.

“ALBERRT HELP ME.” You shout, crying as you crowd over Leon’s lifeless body. He’s so cold. Leon don’t go to the light, bby…

Wesker walks in and stands over Leon, with her uroboros powers, he resuscitates Leon.

“Oh my god, baby. I’m sorry I did that. I was overwhelmed,” you cry, hugging Leon.

Leon smiles, showing his two teeth. “I forgive you.”

Then you guys have hard passionate sex on the hospital bed. You end up pregnant with Leon Scott Kennedy Jr 💙 Congrats.

Wanna be the one taking care of Chris for once. Simple things even, like making him coffee or holding him when he cries. Mans been through too much 😭

REAL.

fluff with a little tinge of angst below!

Waking up earlier than Chris is a challenge. It takes planning. It takes somehow convincing your body to rise without the assistance of an alarm, because if you set one, Chris gets up, too.

One Saturday, you manage it. You wake up on instinct at five in the morning, a whole hour earlier than Chris' internal clock. You're giddy. The exhaustion seeps from your bones as something like adrenaline kicks in. You climb out of bed, careful not to rouse him, and you dart into the kitchen.

You start the coffee, the ancient brewer sputtering to life. You retrieve Chris' mug. A treasured thing from the BSAA. It was a gag gift one Christmas. #1 Dad. The alpha team had thought it hysterical. Chris didn't admit it out loud, but he loved the stupid thing.

Slow drips meet your ears, and you watch the pot fill with coffee. You make it strong, just like he likes it, and you inhale the sweet, heavy scent of the Folger's brand he's been drinking for over twenty years at this point.

You run your hands along the counter idly. You think, briefly, of making Chris something extravagant for breakfast. Maybe trying your hand at some pancakes. You're sure you could do it. But Chris is locked into his habits. You know he'll eat it if you make it, but he'd rather have his usual: a bowl of cereal and a hard boiled egg.

"Morning."

The voice makes your heart drop, and you turn. "No."

Chris furrows his brow, and a smile pulls at his face, confused, but he's still so enraptured at the sight of you. "No?"

"No!" you whine. "You're supposed to be asleep. I'm supposed to wake you up with coffee and your stupid cereal and--" You stick your bottom lip out, and Chris tilts his head.

"Oh, angel." He crosses into the kitchen. His bare chest slots against your back, and he twines his arms around your waist. His chin hooks against your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Want me to go back to bed?"

"No," you murmur. He's too warm, too solid. You can't have him leave now. "But just let me do this for you. Okay?"

"Okay."

Chris stays attached to you while you ready his coffee. He's grown to like a little cream in it, so you pour some into the mug. It swirls and balloons up, beautiful, and you stir it in. You toss the spoon in the sink with a loud clatter, and you turn, pressing the mug into Chris' hands.

"Thank you," he breathes softly. Some of your annoyance at your plans having been foiled ebbs away. Chris looks at you with an outpouring of love. He leans over his mug, and he kisses your lips. "I needed this."

"You're just saying that," you mumble.

"No." Chris takes a slow sip of his coffee. "I mean it. Things have been going to shit." Code for: Chris was going to be deployed soon. Your heart thudded too slow in your chest. Chris reaches up and runs his thumb over your cheek. "But you. God, you."

"You know I'm always here for you," you whisper; you latch onto his wrist, fingers curling into the soft flesh. His pulse thrums under your fingertips. "Right?"

"I know." There's a gloss to his eyes, like he wants to cry. "I know, angel."

Silence flutters in on soft wingbeats. You catch in your throat, and you have to swallow it down. "Talk to me, Chris."

"After breakfast. I'll tell you everything I can." His voice wavers as he promises you.

Another pause. You smile at him sadly. Out on a limb, you speak: "We've got stuff for pancakes. Why don't you go lay down? I'll treat you."

Chris smiles. He humors you. Or maybe he really does need it, because he nods once. "Sounds perfect."