#ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ lost faith in my government (bsaa!verse)

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@alpharedfield asked: ( comb reverse ) receiver runs their fingers through sender’s hair — Chris

Ingrid was about to look over and tell Chris she was done working, but when she looked over at where he was on the couch, he was asleep. She smiled and chuckled at the sight; he’d offered to keep her company while she finished one last thing. Which then, as it always did, turned into several more things because she didn’t know when to quit most of the time. She wondered how long he’d been asleep like that. She quietly saved her filed and turned off her computer and grabbed her bag. Then she wheeled herself over to him and watched him for a moment. 

He looked younger when he slept. His frown lines were less prominent and the nearly permanent wrinkles in his forehead were smoothed out. She almost hated to disturb him, but sleeping in that position would leave him stiff, and she was sure he’d prefer sleeping in his own bed. She certainly preferred her bed over that lumpy old couch. 

Ingrid gently carded her fingers through Chris’ short hair, gently brushing her nails over his scalp in a massaging motion. “Chris,” she said quietly. She didn’t want to spook him. She’d seen agents lash out if they were startled form such a vulnerable state as sleep, and she was close enough to him that he could smack her instinctively. “Chris, time to wake up,” she said a bit louder. “You can’t sleep here.” This time, a hint of amusement in her voice.

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Continued from here with @alpharedfield

Ingrid’s brow was etched into a furrow as dull but constant pain sawed at her nerves like a dull knife. It would almost have been easier if it was sharp and occasional instead of this annoying, constant thrum just on the edge of her awareness. Always there and never ending. For a while, she was able to block it out. Focus on something else, but right now, during this debrief for an upcoming mission where she was only listening, it came back with a vengeance. She was up out of her wheelchair, her first mistake. The meeting room was small, and Ingrid thought it would be too bulky given Chris and his full team would be there. 

 She blushed in mortification as Chris seemed to catch on to the shift in her demeanor. She hadn’t wanted to draw attention. For a moment, she considered turning him down just to save face. These were all people physically stronger and more capable than her, and she didn’t want to look any weaker than she already did. But the pain won out over her stubborn pride. She nodded without a word and gripped Chris’ arm in a death grip. God, her hands were all clammy too. But she eventually limped over with aid to the chair and collapsed into it like a marionette cut from its strings. 

“Yeah,” she said wearily. “Thank you, Chris,” she said bashfully, but she did look up and meet his eyes to show she was, in fact, grateful.

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@atrappedwolfwill asked: "It's hard to care who's clinging to the reins when the horse keeps pulling lame."

“I’m confused…is the BSAA metaphor for the lame horse or are we the horse?” Ingrid asked as she ate a cookie. Sometimes Emily could be cryptic; most agents were, in their own ways. Sometimes she was referencing something Ingrid had no clue about because she hadn’t really been raised in America or a place that spoke English. “Or maybe the government is the horse?” she mused, more to herself now than to Emily, who she was in conversation with. “Either way, I think I understand. Every man for themselves mentality in stress? Do you think everything will all come crashing down once you and the team expose everything that went down in Romania?”

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@viralstars asked: "Look at me”

As soon as she felt the rough leather of Wesker’s glove on her face, she stopped breathing. On instinct, Ingrid reached up to grip Dr. Wesker’s wrist where his leather glove ended and his skin began. She didn’t struggle. There was no point. He was twenty times stronger than she could ever imagine being, and he was twice her size. She flinched and shut her eyes as she braced for his gloved hand to drop to her neck, to feel the vice of muscle tightening until she couldn’t breath and her neck snapped…but it never came. Instead, Dr. Wesker spoke, demanding her full attention.

Ingrid blinked her eyes open and warily met his eyes. Or…where she assumed his eyes were. He was wearing his glasses. But she knew what was behind them. Fiery leonine eyes, unnatural for anything human. But Dr. Wesker wasn’t human. Not anymore. She wasn’t sure what was better. Looking into the cold, lifeless black of his glasses that felt like looking into a hollowed out skull or his actual eyes. She swallowed and let her held breath go shakily. Everything in her animal hindbrain was screaming danger, predator, run!

But…he hadn’t actually hurt her yet. Which was strange. Dr. Wesker wasn’t known for his merciful nature. On the contrary, he was known for his lack of care for human life. He could crush a man’s skull under his boot without giving a damn. He’d probably be more worried about his boots. She very slowly released his wrist, dropping her arm to her side.

“You might as well kill me,” she said calmly, though her trembling limbs and racing heart and breath said otherwise. “I’m not of any use to you. I’m too low on the BSAA totem pole to know anything major.” A lie. “No one will come looking for me, if that’s what you wanted.”

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@noonegetsleftbehind asked: *puts these in a basket at your door before running away* 💟💜💘🌈

Damn whippersnappers putting things at my door.

💟 developing sexual relationship ( may include romance )

Aw hell yeah. Daddy thighs and mommy thighs doing the do.

💜 friendship

Absolutely. Ingrid will be friends with everybody. She’s very happy to have lots of friends. Even if they have questionable taste in cookies 🥕 (iykyk)

💘 friends to lovers

Top shelf shit right here, my guy. That is *chef’s kiss* all the way.

🌈 developing friendship

Friendships are always a work in progress imo. It’s always growing and changing. So absolutely yeah, to this.

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@xselfrighteous asked: “trace”

Ingrid flinched away from the contact reflexively more than out of fear or pain. It was just a jolt to her system, that was all. She wasn’t used to being touched there. She glanced at the very large calloused hand on her bare knee, brushing over one of the several thick, raised surgical scars that marred her skin. Her hazel eyes trailed up from Chris’ hand along his arm and up his broad shoulders and veiny neck to his face. She eyed him curiously from behind the rims of her glasses but didn’t move to stop him. She trusted him, after all. She’d trust him with her life if it came down to it. He was a good man deep down, she believed. She trusted that he wouldn’t hurt her intentionally; he presented no danger or threat in her mind.

It was because she trusted him so much that she chose not to change into sleep pants that would hide her legs when he came over. With anyone she didn’t deeply trust, she always hid them. At work she wore stockings and leggings or just tailored pants. Her scars were always a sore spot for her. She didn’t like them. Didn’t like the time in her life they represented or their physical appearance. She made coffee for him and herself when he came by even though it was almost midnight. Her door was always open to him. To any of the people she considered her friends or her responsibility. She never asked questions. She just smiled and opened her door for anyone in need, made up a bed on the couch or made some coffee and talked or ate popcorn and watched mind numbing TV until they felt better.

“Oh,” she said, clearing her throat to get rid of some of the silent tension. “Those are from my past surgeries I needed as a child. I’ve had several since I was adopted. Probably need a few more, but…I’ve never liked doctors all that much. And our work keeps me busy.”

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@noonegetsleftbehind liked for a Valentine’s starter

“Alright, come on big guy,” Ingrid said as she wheeled herself into Chris’ office, stopping at the side of his desk. As usual, both she and Chris were the only ones still at work. The BSAA offices were dark and empty after everyone had gone home at five like normal people, but not them. Chris seemed to always have tunnel vision, especially when it came to cases he took personally which was almost all of them. He was a good man with a big heart; he always wanted to try and save people.

“Save and close out whatever it is you’re working on. We’re going out for a Pal-entine’s dinner. We’ve both been here all day, and we’re both single. Let’s go grab a pizza or go to a hotpot place or something. My treat.” Other office members tended to either idolize or fear Chris and treated him as such. He was a big scary guy with a big reputation. Ingrid was neither of those. She had no problem ordering people three times her size around or bossing people who could bench press her if they wanted to. “I’m not taking no for an answer, either. How long has it been since you stood up?” she asked, eyeing his posture.

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Continued from here with @xselfrighteous

Ingrid could be wiry when she wanted to be. Life in an orphanage had given her many lessons, one being that if adults caught you, your best bet was to get away and hide. She had no training for combat of any sort, but she knew to start flailing and scratching. As soon as she felt a thick arm wrap around her throat, she squeaked and started jerking. Her wheelchair was kicked over as the person bodily dragged her up and back, trying to suffocate her. She croaked as her airway was cut off, kicking her legs and getting a handful of their face behind her and scouring them with her nails. The person screamed as she felt her nail push between their eyelid. They thwacked her in the ribs with their gun in their other hand and dropped her. 

She had caused enough of a struggle that Chris had time to take down his own assailant before they could actually turn the gun on her. She yelped as she caught herself on her hands, scraping the skin from her palms. Her breathing was deep and noisy as she took in deep mouthfuls of precious air. She couldn’t feel anything in her body. Everything was still numb with adrenaline. Her hands felt like ice though. And she was shaking. That was the closest she had ever come to being violently killed. She full-body flinched as Chris put his hand on her shoulder and looked up at him, her hazel eyes wide and pupils constricted into pinpricks.

“I…I don’t…I don’t know,” she managed at first. The longer she wasn’t in danger though, the more she was able to think. Everything had happened so slowly, it seemed. But it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. She took a shaky breath and gulped the spit pooling in her throat. “I think I’m okay. I just need a minute. I think. I’m in shock.”

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@noonegetsleftbehind asked: Next to her in bed, which Chris would normally be, there is a large bouquet of bright roses. With the flowers is a handwritten card.

"Ingrid,

Good morning, beautiful. I wanted to let you sleep. I know you need it. You've been so, so amazing and I'm in awe of what you go through just carrying our little one. But, I wanted to do something special for the gorgeous, perfect, incredible woman carrying my baby. Come down for breakfast when you're ready. I love you. Happy Mother's Day to the woman I know is going to be the most incredible mom in the world.

Love,

Christopher"

Ingrid stretched under the blankets as she felt herself waking up. For a moment, she just let her eyes stay closed, hoping she could maybe go back to sleep. This pregnancy thing wasn’t all it was cut out to be. She was exhausted constantly though that might have something to do with being forced to go to only one mug of coffee a day. Their was no nausea which she was eternally grateful for, but instead she had bloating and sore breasts and mood swings that were so abnormal, she often wondered if she was losing it. Chris probably did too, bless him. He was patient and gracious though, even when she threatened to stab him with a spoon because he took a bite of food off her plate. Or the time she threw all their clothes on the back lawn because she was sick of laundry.

Then she realized why she’d woken up. Baby. She could feel the alien flutter under her skin. She was just over sixteen weeks, so while she could feel the avocado sized human moving, Chris still couldn’t. Soon he would though. Soon they’d have a baby screaming in their ears. The thought made her smile and finally open her eyes, expecting to see Chris next to her. But instead of his big blurry mass under the blankets, she saw red. She took a breath in and lifted her face from where it was buried in the pillow. She was trying to enjoy sleeping on her stomach while she was still small enough to.

She grabbed blindly for her glasses and put them on her nose as she pushed her curls out of her eyes. They were flowers. Ingrid’s brow furrowed. What was this for? It wasn’t a special day was it? Not their anniversary or something? Surely she would’ve remembered that. She might be having pregnancy brain, but it couldn’t be that bad, could it? She saw a note alongside the bouquet of roses and opened it.

As she read the words in familiar scratchy scrawl, her eyes started to water. She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes as she felt tears and a wave of emotion coming on. God, she was a mess. She sobbed as she read the words over and over again. She didn’t deserve him; Chris was amazing. He had been amazing through all of this. And he was being so doting, doing this for her when he didn’t need to. She got up out of bed, pulling Chris’ shirt down so it fell to her thighs and headed to the kitchen, still sniffling and crying pitifully.

“You,” she sobbed as she spotted him. “Are the best. You know that? God, I’m a mess. I cry at everything now,” she whined as she rubbed at her eyes. “No more cards from you. I love you, you know that? I love you, Chris,” she bawled. “And I’m not going to kiss you while I ugly cry and get snot on you. Pass me a tissue.”

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@noonegetsleftbehind asked: 🛏️

Ingrid glared up at Chris’ reflection in the mirror as she tried to keep getting ready for work. It had taken longer than usual. Her whole body ached and her joints were stiff like blocks of ice. Her limp was more pronounced, and she felt like it was a struggle just to peel her eyelids open. Every movement felt like she was wading through wet cement. Even getting her glasses off the bedside table felt like an ordeal. She was making more noises of pain as she moved, but she was moving. She wasn’t about to rest. She never missed work when she got sick; she just soldiered through. Any time her rheumatoid arthritis flared or she caught something, she still went to work. Her work was important. It kept people alive, and if she took a day off, she was convinced everything would go wrong. Even if it hadn’t gone wrong any other day. The world would find a way to say “fuck you, Hunnigan” on the one day she took off. Things would go wrong, chaos would ensue, people would get hurt or things would become unorganized. 

“I said I’m fine,” she snapped at him as she continued brushing through her messy curls and spraying them with heat protection as she switched on her straightener. She picked up her straightener as he came closer, pointing it at his reflection in the mirror. “I’m going to work, Chris. I need to go in. I have six reports to write and there’s the mission that’s coming up next month I need to start working on. Don’t look at me like that.” And then he was in the doorway, ignoring her. “Chris,” she said warningly. She knew that look. That look he got when he was about to do something she wouldn’t like. He got it during missions more than when he was on home soil. Seeing it now didn’t bode well.

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@noonegetsleftbehind asked: [ 📲 sms: ]  you mean the world to me. don’t ever forget that. [ 📲 sms: ]  you are my heart.

Ingrid smiled at the phone screen as Chris’ texts came in. She’d just gotten home after spending the weekend at his place. She sighed as she laid back in her bed alone. She missed him sleeping next to her. She missed the smell of his shampoo and cologne on his pillows. She was in so deep, she realized. And in no time at all. Well, not no time, really. They’d been harboring feelings for a long time, always waiting on the periphery in wait. And now those feelings had pounced and had Ingrid by the throat. 

[>>💕🍑Chris]: Stop that or I’m going to start thinking about ways to sneak into your house

[>>💕🍑Chris]: God now I’m getting all teary eyed. You did this to me.

She wiped aggressively at her face after putting her glasses on her bedside table. She sniffled a little bit as her goofy grin stayed plastered to her face. God, she was a mess. 

[>>💕🍑Chris]: I’m so happy you asked me on that date. I’m happy we’ve worked out. You do that. You make me happy, Chris. 

[>>💕🍑Chris]: You mean the world to me. I’m so honored you chose me. 

[>>💕🍑Chris]: I love you, Chris.

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@noonegetsleftbehind asked: [ 📲 sms: ]  can't stop thinking about you.

Ingrid heard Chris’ text tone and her brow furrowed. What was he messaging her for? He wasn’t far away. Did he need something? What if he accidentally cut himself? Or there was an emergency mission and she hadn’t gotten the call yet. Suddenly her mind was running with everything that could go wrong. She picked up her phone and unlocked it. Then immediately rolled her eyes. A fond smile pulled at her painted lips as her stomach did little happy flips in her belly.

[>>💕🍑Chris]: Chris, I’m literally two floors away

[>>💕🍑Chris]: You could run down here and see me. Or I could use an elevator and visit you.

[>>💕🍑Chris]: Get back to work.

She was about to put her phone down but then thought better of it. She didn't want him to think she was annoyed.

[>>💕🍑Chris]: Love you. I’ll buy us lunch from that shwarma place. 😘

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@naturlich-geborener-morder asked: 👌

“Oh, Chris, I didn’t realize,” Ingrid offered, her face flushing with the heat of a blush. Chris was nice to her, and while she was aware of his psychological profile, that was enough for her. She considered him a friend even if he might not see her as the same. And he was certainly attractive. She always liked listening to him talk and the way his eyes glittered when he was enjoying something. She wouldn’t mind that being turned her direction, she supposed. Then she was reminded of something. “Wait a minute, were you…all those times you said you liked bossy women did you mean me?! Oh god, I'm an idiot.”

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@noonegetsleftbehind asked: 👌

Wait…what?! She thought to herself, eyes wide like a deer in headlights as her face got warm. She was absolutely stunned, her mouth agape and opening and closing rapidly. For once, she was at a loss for words. She thought those feelings weren’t mutual. Well, now she felt a little silly.

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@alpharedfield asked: ( snack ) sender brings receiver their favorite food to cheer them up — Chris

Ingrid was working on finishing up a mission report, making sure all the details were correct and there were appropriate references to transcripts and audio logs. A lot of work that agents were supposed to do that she was happy to take on. If she let field agents do it, it was likely to trigger bad memories or they’d leave out important details, and then she’d just end up redoing herself anyway most of the time. Easier to just cut out the middle man and let her take the brunt of the horrors and trauma. Better her than them, especially in the latter regard. She glanced up as a shadow edged into the corner of her vision.

She hadn’t heard the door open, but that wasn’t uncommon when she fixated on a task. She could often lose track of time and zero in until whatever it was she was focused on was to her very exacting standards. Otherwise, she’d just be anxious all day. Best to get that compulsion out of the way in one fell swoop. 

“Chris, you’re early,” she said with a smile. Not that she was complaining of course. His presence was never a bad thing. “I-” she paused as he held out a bag of needhams for her. She took it and held it in her hands. It had been ages since she’d had them. They were localized mostly to Maine, where she’d spent her later childhood and teen years. “Oh my god, where did you get these, Chris?” she asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

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@atrappedwolfwill asked: 🕴🩹🤝☀️

🕴 partners in illegal activities

Oh yeah 100% Ingrid is down to commit crimes for and possibly with Emily. You know Ingrid helps her evade taxes.

🩹 friends forced to work against each other

They are by the end of Village. Sort of. We all know Ingrid is helping on the down low though.

🤝 coworkers

Yes.

☀️ friends of circumstance

Definitely yes. I doubt either of them would have ever met if they didn’t both work for the BSAA. That and a rebellious streak a mile wide.