#Chris Redfield imagines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollfacefantasy · 7 months ago

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Room for One More

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader x chris redfield

summary: months ago, chris let his apprentice slip through his fingers when she transferred to the d.s.o. to work with leon kennedy. now the three of them have been sent on a mission together and are forced to share a hotel room.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, threesome, p in v, oral sex (f and m recieving), face-sitting, exhibitionism, age gap (early 20s, late 30s), jealousy, light angst

word count: 9.2k

a/n: had this in my drafts since february let's go. hope you guys like it <3

You and Leon were so fucking annoying.

Irritating, aggravating, infuriating pains in his ass. That’s all Chris could think while speeding down the road, his knuckles white from their tight grip on the steering wheel. The three of you were all supposed to be professionals for god’s sake. He shouldn’t have to deal with the two of you acting no better than a couple of horny teenagers during a fucking mission.

It was constant. The giggling and gasping, soft whines of “Leon stoppppp.” And he could hear Leon’s stupid fucking smirk when he chuckled and kept doing whatever was causing you to squirm around with him in the back seat. If he had to sit through much more of this, he was pretty sure he’d end up plowing the car into a nearby tree and putting himself out of his misery.

Chris glanced in the rearview mirror. Darkness engulfed the car right now, making it hard to clearly see what his ‘partners’ were up to. All he could really make out was that Leon’s head had been in the crook of your neck but was now tilted upwards to capture you in a kiss. The only thing keeping him sane was the miniscule light in the distance. The small reminder that he wouldn’t be stuck in the car with the sounds of saliva swapping forever. He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head, trying to will himself to just tune the aggravation out. But as the minutes pass by, each wet smack of lips grates on his nerves more and more.

“Can you two cut it out back there? I’m trying to focus,” he says. His harsh stare remains on the road ahead.

He hears your bodies briefly untangling as his words pierce the bubble you had created for yourselves. Leon is the first to respond.

“Our mistake, Redfield. Didn’t know it was such a challenge to go twenty-five miles an hour on an empty road,” he remarks. Again, Chris’s blood boils as he senses that self-satisfied expression taking over the other man’s features.

Your light slap to Leon’s bicep sounds through the car’s interior. “Sorry, Chris. We’ll keep it down,” you apologize.

In contrast to your boyfriend, your tone rings genuine. You sounded almost a little embarrassed by Chris calling out your antics. Your soft voice drifting to his ears actually softens him a tad. He knew the expression you wore now too. How your eyes were fixed on the DSO agent, giving him the glare you used when you wanted to seem firm. In reality, it came off as cute, like an angry kitten. And now Leon got to be the one to grin at you and shake his head, amused by your sweet face. He got to be in the position Chris let slip through his fingers months ago.

***

You’d been his first. Started out at the BSAA as his rookie. Your first day you’d been so bright-eyed, hopeful and ready to start out your career and face the world. He’d been reluctant to take on a trainee at first. It’s a lot of work with a 50/50 shot at reward, but the second he laid eyes on you, he knew the luck of the draw had worked in his favor.

You were the ideal apprentice. A great listener, eager to learn everything you could, and accepting of commands. Every day with you was a breeze. And besides the parts of you suited for your job, you were just generally pleasant to be around. He could joke with you, talk to you about damn near any subject. You were a great partner in the field too. At first, he’d been worried. A cute little thing like you taking on bioterrorists? He struggled to believe that would work out. As soon as he saw you in action though, you left no doubt that he’d been wrong. He became more taken with you upon seeing you act so capable. He realized that he felt a connection with you that he’d been lacking for so much of his life.

Unfortunately for him, he had these pesky things called ‘morals’ that prevented him from pursuing you. Every time he legitimately considered flirting or asking you out, the guilt gnawed at him, filling his mind with words of shame rather than anything that could charm you. No matter how he thought about it, he just couldn’t work out any way it would be right. Not only were you his subordinate, his rookie, you were nearly twenty years his junior too. You shouldn’t be wasting the prime of your life with some old man, so he cut off any hope of being more than a mentor to you.

About a year after he’d taken you on, the two of you were sent on that mission in Texas. It was simple, standard, routine. You and Chris were simply there to assist local police with the aftermath of a bioterror attack. Both of you were in the transport vehicle on the way to the site, and this was a rare occasion where he was pretty calm. He wasn’t tense or anxious, didn’t have any other motive than getting in and getting out. He was just enjoying the ride and watching your pretty face soak up the sunlight beaming through the window.

What he hadn’t been briefed on was the DSO’s involvement in the case. More specifically, a certain DSO agent’s presence. Apparently he’d been in the area on unrelated business and had been ordered to stop by in case your team needed assistance.

The two of you got out of the car and wandered through the remnants of the event. At first, Chris was happy to see him. It’d been a while, and he seemed to be in a better place than the last time they’d met. You seemed happy to see him too despite the fact that you’d never met before. Right then, Chris should’ve known it was over.

“Who’s that?” you asked with more interest than he felt was appropriate, leaning closer his muscular frame to keep your tone hushed.

He glanced down at you and raised his eyebrows, initially amused with the way you almost seemed in awe.

“Leon Kennedy. He’s with the DSO. Probably just here for some backup,” he informed you.

You nodded, and as you padded along behind Chris, your eyes remained locked on the agent in front of you. If he hadn’t been wrapped around your finger, it would have been obvious to him that you were developing a little crush. You became so bashful around Leon. Smiling up at him, batting your eyelashes like a cartoon character, following him around the scene like a puppy.

At the time, Chris thought that you were simply intrigued by the prestige of the DSO. Looking back, he couldn’t believe how clueless he’d been.

It was only six weeks later that you came to his office to notify him you were transferring agencies.

“What do you mean transferring? I’ve been training you to work here. I need you here,” Chris said.

Your eyes had cast down. Your body appeared to shrink in on itself. “I know. The BSAA is important and all, and I’ll always be grateful for what I learned here. It’s just that Leon said…”

And those last two words were all Chris heard.

“Leon said? What’s he know? He met you one time. He’s gonna try and tell you that you’re a better fit for the DSO?” he asked, probably coming off more interrogating than concerned, “You’re perfect for what we do here. The Agency hasn’t had someone with your propensity for research and field work in years.”

All his reasons paled in comparison to the hearts you had in your eyes for Leon. Chris ended the day by signing off on your transfer and watching you pack up your desk. You gave him a hug and tearful words of goodbye before walking out the translucent doors of the BSAA building.

The next time he saw you was another two months after that. He had to bring some files over to the DSO building. The only thing he was looking forward to about it was seeing how his rookie was adapting to her new position. He wasn’t prepared for the sharp pain in his chest when he saw your new position was on Leon’s lap.

Your eyes had gone wide. You shot up off the other man’s thighs to try and act as if you two were merely two agents and nothing more. Chris wasn’t fooled, but he kept his composure even in the face of Leon’s obvious amusement. He had no real place to get mad at you. It’s not like you were throwing your career away; you still held a respectable position at a federal government agency. You hadn’t betrayed him either. The relationship between you and him had actually just been professional. He had no claim on you that could keep Leon away. The only thing Chris had to be angry about was the fact that you were going to spend the prime of your life with some guy over a decade older than you. It just wasn’t gonna be him.

***

The collection of lights down the road were getting closer now. You and Leon had settled down enough to make the last fifteen minutes of this trip bearable. Chris glances around the small, misty town the road was leading into. It was pretty desolate and old-fashioned. Everything was tinted orange from the dated street lamps lining the road. Buildings were mostly bricks except for the upcoming motel which looked primarily wooden. It would’ve been eerie if he wasn’t so exhausted.

He pulled into the parking lot of the place and stopped the car. Turning around in his seat to talk to you and Leon, he tries not to roll his eyes at how the younger man has you tucked to his side while you show him something on your phone.

Chris clears his throat. Leon’s eyes meet his, still smug from the earlier exchange. He can’t be mad though because you look up at him in earnest, ready to do what needs to be done.

“The target isn’t going to be passing through until tomorrow. How would the two of you feel about staying here for the night?” he asks.

Fortunately, you and Leon seem to want to rest for a while just as much as he does so there’s no pushback.

Chris steps out of the car into the brisk air. He heads across the way into the small lobby of the motel to grab a room. You and your boyfriend handle getting the small bags you were allowed to take on missions out of the car.

“Cold out here, baby,” Leon mumbles as he pulls you flush against his chest and plants some kisses down your neck.

“Mhm. And you’re making me shiver more,” you say as you still try to collect the bags.

He chuckles at your little joke and nips at the warm flesh of your throat. “Once we get in the room, I think I’ll be able to heat you up,” he says.

You giggle and squirm a bit in his hold as Chris comes back to the car. He’s stone faced, but for once on this trip, it isn’t due to you and Leon.

“They only have one room available,” he says flatly and holds up the small golden key.

Your face drops and Leon lets go of you.

“What do you mean they only have one room?” he asks, “Look at this place. It doesn’t even look like anyone’s even accidentally wandered through here in this century. How could they only have one room?”

“They said the others are closed for renovation,” Chris relays.

“Renovation for what? For the ghosts of people who stayed here the last time this place was actually full?” Leon continues.

“I don’t know, man. You wanna go in there and argue with the lady at the desk? She’s half deaf and in a great mood, I’m sure she’ll be open to hearing your concerns,” the older man says sarcastically, beginning to grow frustrated.

Their bickering continues as you glance around at your surroundings. It was cold, it was dark, and it really was starting to creep you out how empty this place was.

You carefully take Leon’s hand and give it a little tug.

“I’m really tired. Can we just deal with it for the night?” you ask him hopefully.

He looks over at you, the petty complaints seeping from his body when he hears your soft voice requesting something so simple.

He sighs and nods. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he says and kisses your forehead.

Chris is grateful for your intervention and scoops up the bags so you aren’t bothered with them. The three of you walk in line to your room.

The door creaks as your ex-mentor pushes it open. It’s pitch black inside until Leon reaches over and taps the light switch. Your eyes scan the small room. It wasn’t a horrible set up. The furniture was a little vintage to put it nicely, but it didn’t feel haunted. Two double beds sat against one wall while a ratty leather chair occupied the opposite corner. Besides that there was a dresser, an old tv that was shaped like a cube, and a small counter with a microwave and mini-fridge. Leon looks around with the same disinterest displayed on your face.

“Hey, at least there isn’t only one bed,” he jokes and slaps Chris’s shoulder.

The older man rolls his eyes and tosses his duffel onto the mattress closest to the door. You and your boyfriend follow suit. You tuck your bag neatly against the side of the dresser while he drops it on the floor next to the farther bed.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Chris tells the both of you as he fishes some fresh clothes and toiletries out of his bag.

He gets two unconcerned nods in response, and that’s enough for him to head to the bathroom. As he’s shutting the door, he can already hear your giggling starting up again along with the creak of the mattress, presumably from Leon pulling you down onto it.

Turning on the water, he sighs deeply. The faucet was as old as everything else in the room. It whooshed and groaned before starting up and letting out some water. The stream was hot and even, so he guessed he couldn't complain too much. He sheds his clothes and steps in the shower that was too small for him. The confined area didn’t act as much as a reprieve for him. His head is about three or four inches too tall for where the showerhead was angled. The slick curtain clings to the part of his bicep that stuck out against it.

It felt like a physical manifestation of how the next twelve hours would feel.

Being in the room next to you and Leon would’ve been bad enough. He’d have to hear you two going at it for hours like there was no tomorrow, but at least he’d be alone. He wouldn’t have to repress his grimaces or hide his wistful exhales. No one would have to know how shameful he looked when he felt himself getting hard over the way you whined and mewled for the other agent.

Now you two wouldn’t be going at it, but he’d have to be in the room clouded by both of your desires to do it. He’d have to watch the lingering looks and hear the little hitches in your breaths. He’d see whatever cute little pajamas wore and the way you curled up to Leon beneath the covers. He’d witness how peaceful your face looked while you slept in another man’s arms.

He’d honestly just prefer to be forced to listen to the sounds of your headboard banging against the wall all night.

But he pushes those thoughts away to finish up washing himself. His large hands guide the shampoo out of his hair and glide the washcloth over his muscular form. The steam starting to rise helps to calm him a little.

He isn’t in there for much longer before he shuts the water off and steps out of the shower to dry off. He wraps a towel around his waist, letting the cloth hang on hips just below his happy trail and v-line. His reflection gazes back at him through the fog on the mirror as he rubs a towel over his head and dries his hair.

In an effort to be considerate, he dresses in the bathroom. Gray sweats cover his lower half while a loose t-shirt adorns his chest. He makes sure everything in the bathroom is back in place before heading back out there, hopefully to just get some sleep and not be bothered by his temporary roommates.

That isn’t meant to be though. As soon as he steps back into the main portion of the room, he’s greeted by the sight of Leon’s hand down your shorts and your lips locked together in a flurry of kisses. He’s frozen in place for a moment, watching how Leon’s knuckles move underneath the fabric between your legs. Though a moment later, he remembers how he should be reacting.

“Come the fuck on,” he says and brings his hand to his face in frustration.

Your eyes widen, and your head snaps up. Leon lazily glances in his direction. Chris looks back at the pair of you, thinking you’d had enough time to readjust. What really enrages him now is that Leon’s hand was still where it was. You have to grab his wrist and pull it away.

“I’m so sorry, Chris,” you apologize without another thought, “We got distracted and didn’t hear the water shut off. I’m so-”

He doesn’t even look at you though. He’s locked in a stare with the other man in the room.

“Grow the fuck up, Leon,” he says, his tone deadly serious, “I’ve had enough of this shit. You’re acting like a fucking high schooler. Like a dog with a bone.”

You go silent and look down with guilt. He would’ve felt bad if he wasn’t so fed up. To make matters worse, Leon merely rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, calm down,” he says, “You’re acting like you just walked in on a porno or something. You’ve never seen two people making out?”

“Leon, shut up,” you say, keeping your voice hushed as if Chris couldn’t hear you from a small distance of ten feet. Your boyfriend doesn’t even acknowledge you though.

“That’s not what it’s about, and you know that. I don’t give a shit if the two of you want to make out till your lips are blue. Do it on your own time. I don’t wanna have to deal with the two of you slobbering all over each other while I’m trying to do my job,” he says with a glare.

“That’s not what this is about either, and you know it,” the younger man retorts.

“Leon, just give it up!” you plead. He shoots you a look though that makes you react like a scolded puppy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chris asks incredulously as he crosses his arms.

Your boyfriend almost laughs in his face. He sits up, looking at him with a more pointed gaze. “You don’t care about what I’m doing. You’re pissed off because I’m doing it with her,” he taunts.

Somehow the look on Chris’s face darkens further.

“Alright, man. I’m sure that’s what it is. It’s not you just being an insecure dickhead like always,” he says, trying to sound dismissive as he walks to his own bed, “You're more immature than I thought.”

“Don’t try to act like it’s bullshit because I know it’s the truth. All the years I’ve known you, all the missions we’ve partnered on; this isn’t the first time you’ve seen me with a girl but you’ve never pitched a fit about it before,” Leon says.

Chris shakes his head, not dignifying the accusations with a response, but he won’t give it up.

“Also, you think I’m fucking stupid? You think I don’t see the way you’re looking at her? Undressing her with your eyes, laser focused every time she bends over? I think if she gave you the go ahead, you wouldn’t even hesitate to steal her away from me,” he says.

You notice as they argue that in contrast to the genuine aggravation on Chris’s face, Leon’s words come from somewhere else. Almost as if he’s enjoying calling him a liar, poking and prodding at the other man to provoke a reaction.

Chris looks directly at him now as if he’s ready to lunge in a moment’s notice.

“Shut your mouth. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“Tell me then. Tell me how it is.”

That makes the older man pause. Of course Leon was right, but under no circumstances would he make that apparent.

“She had a bright future ahead of her, and look what you’ve done. She’s the best either one of the agencies has had in years, and you keep her in the palm of your hand like she’s a barbie doll!” he exclaims.

He sees the flicker of hurt on your face and knows he fucked up, but he could apologize later. He continues speaking to try and temporarily rectify his slip up.

“She’s too good for you, Leon,” he says simply, sighing and sitting down on his bed.

You see genuine emotion flash in your boyfriend's eyes. Chris struck a chord, picking at a very real insecurity Leon held. But he wanted to win this confrontation too, so he wouldn’t let that be known. Instead, he beckons you to him with a languid wave of his hand.

“C’mere, baby.”

Chris rolls his eyes, thinking Leon was gonna swoop in to comfort you for the way your feelings had been hurt. You waddle across the mattress on your knees and plop down between his legs, your back against his chest. His hands sweep over your stomach, soothingly caressing your skin.

“She might be too good for me, but you’re pissed off because she’s too good for you too,” he says.

“Leon, stop,” you whisper. Tomorrow was going to be awkward enough as is. He didn’t need to make it any worse.

Chris glances up at the two of you but looks down again quickly, not wanting to see the way the other man’s hands moved on your body.

“You think I’m the bad guy. That I’m corrupting your innocent little rookie,” Leon mocks, “But tell me you wouldn’t take my place if you could.”

“I wouldn’t,” he mumbles instantaneously.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me. Tell me that if she was actually interested in you, that you wouldn’t have taken her in your arms as fast as you could. When she was prancing around the BSAA, looking up at you with stars in her eyes, tell me you didn’t want her,” your boyfriend challenges.

Chris looks up at the both of you. His expression is hard to read. It’s some mixture of hurt and relief that you’re unfamiliar with.

“I didn’t,” he maintains.

Leon’s hand continues trailing on your tummy up and down. His fingers coast in between your breasts, causing you to shiver, but everyone’s so wrapped up in the conflict that you choose not to say anything.

“That’s a shame because I’m pretty sure your little rookie had a crush on you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t joke around like that Leon,” Chris scoffs at the same time as your eyes widen and you start to tell your boyfriend to be quiet.

“Shh shh shh,” he hushes you and places a small kiss on your temple, “You’re giving yourself away, sweetheart.”

You look down and the man across from you just looks confused. Leon smirks at the both of you before resuming.

“C’mon man. Don’t tell me you couldn’t see it. She’s a terrible liar, and I think she had it pretty bad for you. I just came along and pulled her attention elsewhere,” he says, teasing you while redirecting his words to Chris.

Your face was heating up fast as Leon aired out a confession you’d made to him on a night after too many drinks. Chris slowly returned his gaze back to the two of you. Instead of bothering with Leon, he looked into your eyes this time.

“Is that true?” he asks.

Every limb on your body feels frozen up, but you manage to force your head into nodding. You hear Leon chuckle from behind you, which only intensifies how awkward you feel.

“I liked you at first when I first started working at the BSAA. For the first few months,” you begin to explain. It’s not like anything you said would help the situation at all, but it still felt like you were supposed to offer something.

He continues staring at you, and you honestly can’t tell what’s running through his mind. All you can think is that he looks like he’s in pain. Meanwhile, your boyfriend’s hands caress over your skin in a pattern they’d developed.

“You were just so nice and understanding with me-” you start. But you’re cut off by your sharp gasp when Leon’s hand slides under the waistband of your bottoms and into your panties.

“Leon!” you whimper as fast as his fingers find your clit. You grab his wrist and try to pull it away like you’d done earlier, but when he didn’t want to be interrupted, he wouldn’t be. It wasn’t like you tried too hard anyways. You were still a little pent up from earlier, craving the pleasure that had been cut short.

“No, go on, sweetheart. Keep telling Chris how much you liked him. I know he wants to hear it,” he says lowly while his fingers toy with you.

“Leon,” Chris says firmly, trying to stand up for you. But fuck, if he didn’t want to keep watching your breath hitch and your hips squirm. Or your face getting pouty whenever his fingers stroked a certain way.

“Chris,” he says back, “Don’t act like you don’t wanna see. This might be your only chance.”

He smirks and kisses your temple again, rotating the pad of his middle finger over your clit. The motions draw little whines from you, and your eyes flutter. You keep them on Chris, looking into his own as you sink back into Leon’s chest.

“Go ahead, honey. Continue your story,” Leon prompts.

“You were so sweet- mm- and you taught me a lot and- ah- I don’t know it was just a little crush,” you say timidly.

Chris watches you. He doesn’t move at all for fear of bringing attention to how fast his cock has hardened.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he breathes.

“Cause you were my boss,” you say, “I- Leon fuck- I didn’t wanna put you in a bad position.”

His chest feels like it’s turned to stone as he takes in these revelations. It’s hard not to let the regret take over. The realization that he’d been much closer to everything he’d wanted threatened to consume him if he dwelled on it. That on top of the fact that he was hearing all this while you whimpered another man’s name between your words had his mind scrambled.

“It wouldn’t have put me in a bad position, sweetheart,” he says, attempting to sound normal about the situation.

Your lips curve further down, as if you feel guilty for the mess of emotions building inside him. Behind you, Leon’s mouth makes the opposite expression.

“What happened to not wanting her, Redfield?” he teases.

“Shut up,” Chris says. Even if he wasn’t the one pleasuring you, this was a moment for you and him.

His eyes are locked on you, trying to drink in everything about the vision of beauty in front of him. Leon’s warning that this could be the only time he gets to see it echoes in his mind. He doesn’t know how he’ll survive if this is the only time. He doesn’t think he could ever get enough of this. The way your lashes flutter and your eyes look dreamy. How your soft thighs tremble while spread open. The little movements of your hips rocking your ass back and forth against the man behind you.

Why couldn’t that man be him?

It was the most blissful form of torture he’d experienced. He tried to tell himself that even if he just got to watch you cum, it’d be worth it. It’d be better to share this unforgettable sliver of time with you than to have nothing special at all.

He tries to refocus himself back on enjoying the view of your shorts sliding off your legs rather than mourn the relationship he’d lost out on. It was just nearly impossible to avoid envisioning himself and the other man swapped. He had imagined you in his lap like that for months before you even knew the name Leon Kennedy.

Chris’s mind is actually drawn back to the action in front of him once Leon’s got your shorts off, and your panties are fully exposed. The crotch is soaked through. He can see the way the fabric sticks to your center, only peeling away to make space for the nimble fingers working beneath it.

“Leon…” you mewl and tilt your head back against his shoulder.

“I know, princess,” he murmurs, “You’re doing such a good job showing off for Chris. I’m proud of you. You’re really making it worth his while.”

“Thank you,” you whimper.

Leon grins at your display of submission and rewards you with a gentle pinch to your clit. You yelp, and Chris’s cock jerks inside his pants. His bulge is completely visible to everyone in the room by now, no way of sitting could hide that. Despite his arousal, he still had questions.

“Am I the reason you left?” he decides to ask you.

He watches you snap out of the throes of lust and look at him. You hesitate before answering.

“No,” you say softly, “I left to be with Leon.”

It feels like a dagger straight to his heart. He watches any chance of salvaging you as his own die before his very eyes, those words acting as the nails in the coffin. It shows on his face too because he can see the guilt replacing the desire in your eyes. Even Leon’s face flashes with some sympathy. He tilts his head towards you again and nips at the shell of your ear.

“I think you might have hurt Chris’s feelings, baby,” he chides lovingly. His hand then leaves your panties and goes with his other one to your waist. Boosting you to your feet, he looks up at you and taps your ass. “Maybe you should help him feel better. Show him some of what I taught you.”

There’s only a brief pause on your part. You stand between the two beds, between the two men, looking back and forth. You weren’t against the idea at all, it just didn’t seem real. You never imagined this happening in your wildest dreams.

You drop to your knees and approach Chris from the ground, positioning yourself between his legs and looking up at him.

“You don’t have to,” he says, his tone quiet and genuine.

You reach up, sliding your hand up his thigh to palm at his bulge.

“I know,” you respond.

In the simplest of terms, you were still very much attracted to Chris. Your relationship with Leon had extinguished the torch you carried for him down to a small flame, but on a physical and instinctual level, you still wanted him bad. Especially having not cum yet after being teased twice. Your fingers unzip his pants and begin pulling them down, eager to get his cock out.

In a way, you were pretty sure you loved him. Not in the way you love Leon. You knew that. You didn’t dream of love and marriage and the baby carriage with Chris. But for so long, he’d been your safe space. Amongst the violence and horrors in the world of Bioterrorism, your mentor had always been there for you to hold your hand.

You yank his pants down to his ankles, and his dick flops out against his thigh. Your eyes widen slightly. It made sense for it to be big just like everything else on him was, but the sight had you drooling. It was thick and long, from one look you could only imagine how it would stretch you out.

Your fingers wrap around the length, feeling its warmth. The veins that sprawl across it pulse with desire for you. He moans quietly with only one stroke. Your hand pumps up and down tentatively as you spit down onto it for some lubrication.

No one in the room is in the mood to be teased tonight, so you lean in and flick your tongue against the tip. Another groan bubbles from Chris’s lips and you can feel Leon’s lecherous gaze on you the entire time. You lap at the head some more and keep working your fist up and down.

You’re either very talented or Chris is very needy for you, because it only takes a handful of gentle licks before precum beads at the top. His eyes are blown out and locked on you as you suckle the swollen tip between your lips and bob your head. Your mouth is the perfect combination of warm and wet and soft. You cup his balls and give them a gentle massage while working your magic.

He reaches down and pets your head as you work. His head snaps up when he hears the other man speak to him.

“How’s it feel? As good as you imagined?” he asks.

“Better,” Chris moans.

His breaths enter and exit his lungs in deep puffs. This truly was better than he could’ve imagined. Everything about you was beyond the capabilities of human imagination. Your gags were so soft and tender. They were precious despite their inherent lewd nature. You looked up at him with glossy eyes, maintaining eye contact most of the time. That was something he’d taught you. Your first days of work you were always looking down at your shoes or right through him at the wall. He’d been the one to tell you eye contact was important. It was the most baseline form of connection.

You take your mouth off Chris’s shaft with a small pop. A string of saliva dangles between you and his cock, but you quickly destroy it when your lips smoosh against the flushed skin. You kiss the tip over and over, savoring the taste of precum it brings.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, not caring if he heard or not.

But he does, and his gaze softens. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, rookie,” he says back.

Leon decides not to interrupt the exchange or tease Chris about the old nickname for you. He had no genuine ill will toward the other man. That plus his own cock was rising to attention, and he was more interested in palming it through his jeans.

“You're such a good girl. You don’t need to apologize for anything,” Chris continues to coo at you as you take his length back into your mouth.

His eyes crinkle as they shut. He doesn’t want to cum yet just in case there was the chance for anything more. You’re too taken with servicing him to notice that you should maybe slow down. Lucky for the both of you, Leon intervenes.

“Ah ah, baby. Don’t take Chris out of the fun too quick,” he tuts, reaching forward to guide your head back.

You pull off obediently and lean back onto your knees. Chris sighs at the reprieve but nearly blows his load when his eyes refocus on you gazing up at him with spit and precum on your lips.

“I think Chris needs a break, angel. You know how good that mouth of yours is,” he says and pets your head before looking up to the older man, “You want a little taste of her while you cool off?”

It’s like time slows to a halt in the world of Chris Redfield. The heavens part and the words he just heard are the gateway to paradise. He stares at Leon, almost in the same disbelief you had been in minutes ago.

“You’re cool with that?” he says, trying to seem casual.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” he says and shrugs, “Plus, I think your rookie deserves a treat for her performance.”

“Of course she does. She’s probably feeling pretty needy by now too,” Chris says in return, beginning to feel more comfortable with the situation at hand.

“I’ll even let you pick, man. You want her spread out on the bed or riding your face?” he asks.

You look between the both of them as they speak before stopping on Chris as he makes the decision.

“Riding my face. Want her to smother me,” the older man says as he looks down at you with his familiar smile.

Leon glances down at you too. “You heard him, baby,” he says.

You return to your feet and approach the bed closer to the window. Chris discards his pants completely and removes his shirt before lying back. He pats his chest, signaling for you to climb up. As you move closer, so does your boyfriend. He rounds the bed and sits on the other side of the mattress to watch the pair of you.

You crawl over Chris’s muscular body, looking down at him for a moment when your faces are level. You then scoot up more so you’re basically sitting on his chest. You weren’t shy about sitting on someone’s face necessarily. You’d done it for Leon about a dozen times before, but Chris was new and you didn’t know how he liked to do it. From the way he guided your hips higher up though, you could already tell he was a little more gentle than your boyfriend.

He pulls you up until your pussy is hovering over his face. Then he takes a few moments to just admire it. It was cute just like every other part of you. One of his fingers drags over your flesh and pulls on the puffy folds, showing off your pretty little clit and slick entrance.

“Don’t hold back for me, rookie. I want to taste all of you,” he says as he looks up at you.

You return his look and nod before he pulls you lower by your hips onto his face. A squeak flies from your lips when his tongue makes contact with your cunt. Leon chuckles as he watches the two of you with lustful eyes. He’s working on undressing himself now.

Chris’s tongue takes a long swipe from the bottom to the top of your pussy, taking in as much of you as he can. Right now you’re all he can smell. Every breath brings him more of you. Your taste overwhelms him too. It’s the way he wants to live. You whine as his lips engulf your clit to suck on.

“Already making such pretty noises,” Leon teases, “Is Chris doing it how you like, sweet girl?”

You nod, your eyes connecting with those of your boyfriend’s for a moment. He kneels on the bed to be closer to you. His hand comes up to stroke your cheek.

“Good. You deserve it, baby. Just look at you. So precious. No wonder he’s crazy about you too,” Leon murmurs as he leans in and kisses you deeply.

His lips move with yours as you moan into his mouth. You begin rocking your hips back and forth on Chris’s face to get more of the stimulation he’s providing you with. His tongue flattens over your cunt and presses against it in stripes, making broad strokes that spark euphoria in your belly each time. His hands lock onto your hips to keep you still enough that you’re not interrupting his devouring of you.

The constant pleasure to your core makes you lightheaded. You would be swaying if not for the two men’s combined efforts to keep you up right. Your kisses become sloppier, and to alleviate it, Leon ducks down to kiss your neck instead. He peppers your skin with hickeys, his possessive nature shining through a bit.

“My pretty girl, doing so good for us right now. Taking it like a pro,” he whispers teasingly as his hands cup your breasts and give them a tender squeeze.

His lips travel down to where his hands are. He plants a few kisses on the swell of your chest. The sight of your nipples perking up for him would never get old.

“Sweet baby, everything about you is perfect. Don’t know how Chris resisted and never got a taste,” he says as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Your head falls back and you shudder. Two mouths on you, both licking and sucking in harmony. It made you moan loud enough that you would’ve certainly got a noise complaint if any of the other rooms were occupied.

“Is that for me or Chris, babydoll?” Leon asks and smirks up at you.

“Both,” you whimper, “Both of you are making me feel so good.”

“Not picking favorites, hm?” he goads you further.

“Can’t think enough to pick one right now,” you say simply before another whine leaves you. You didn’t want any more drama. At least not before you came.

“Oh, is your head getting all foggy, baby?” he coos.

“Mhm,” you whimper and nod.

On your lower half, Chris keeps his mouth firmly attached to your pussy. He’s pretty sure you already have him addicted, and you haven’t even cum yet. He’s licking with all the dedication in the world as if this task was his life’s purpose, the action he was put on this very earth to complete.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he grunts into you as he continues open mouth kissing your cunt, “Prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Leon smiles at the compliment, almost as if it was partially intended for him by virtue of being your boyfriend.

“She’s loving you, Chris. You’ve got her brain melting out her ears,” Leon purrs while rubbing your back soothingly, steadying you from the tremors that rack your body, “Pretty baby’s probably gonna cum all over your face soon.

When he hears that, the man below you pulls your hips down even harder and locks you onto his mouth. He works even harder to please you, relishing in the way your noises grow louder and more strained.

You give Leon puppy eyes as your hand darts out for his. Your fingers squeeze his palm so tight, he’s sure there will be little red crescents on the skin when you let go.

“What is it, sweetheart? You need to hold my hand?” he croons. He gently squeezes your hand back and moves his face to your neck to press a few more kisses there. “I’ve got you, baby. You cum whenever you want, I’m not gonna let go. Show Chris how pretty you are when you cum.”

Your teeth dig into your lip and your hips quiver violently.

“Fuck Leon- I just- I- Chris,” you stutter out. Your brain rushes to latch onto something, but it can’t seem to get a lock on anything.

“Don’t gotta say anything, angel. Just cum all over my face,” Chris commands from between your thighs.

“You heard him, baby. No thinking. Just let yourself feel good. That’s what we both wanna see,” he whispers and brings your hand to his lips.

Your lips part to say something, but you decide to just listen. You grind your hips down against Chris’s mouth, gasping as the euphoria paramounts within you. Your hips roll even faster as you feel release within your grasp. You’re closing in on it when you shriek and nearly double over with the shattering feeling of your peak.

“There we go, that’s it,” Leon chuckles softly, “Show him what I get to see every night. My favorite sight in the whole world.”

Your body moves as if it’s possessed when you cum. Your back arches into a curve with supernatural speed. Your eyes are screwed shut while your mouth is wide open. The younger man next to you grins while the older man below you continues to make out with your pussy, lapping up every drop of you that he could.

When you start to come down, he lets up, knowing Leon had more in store from you. He lets your hips go, and you basically topple over onto the mattress. You inhale and exhale deeply as the cool motel sheets rest against your cheek.

Chris’s eyes are hooded from lust, the effects of the most erotic experience in his life lingering. His cock is fully hard, standing up and aching for more of your touch. Yet in a way he’s satisfied, having just made you cum, tasted the sweetest part of you, and heard your most vulnerable sounds.

Leon’s undressed on the bed, the only one of the three of you whose mind didn’t feel hazy with clouds of desire. He tugs on his stiff cock a few times as he decides what to do. His eyes flit between your crumpled up form and the other man lying on his back.

“Chris, you wanna hold her for a little bit? Have her sit in your lap?” he asks.

The older man almost felt pathetic at how eager he was to play along and say yes. Almost. Because he still does that. He nods and sits up, leaning back against the headboard.

The next move is getting you up. Your boyfriend guides you to where Chris is, and he then helps you into his lap. Your mind was coming back to normal, and you were looking up at Leon with adoration while you melted against Chris’s broad chest. You nuzzle it gently, feeling its warmth and plush quality. His thick arms encase you, making sure you feel secure.

Leon pulls you on your hips to get you a bit lower where he has easier access.

“I’m not gonna let you fuck her this time. I wanna show you how it’s done first,” Leon teases as he slots himself between your legs.

In any other instance, this would’ve pissed Chris off. Everything about it would’ve left him disappointed and annoyed. But now any negative emotion is overshadowed by two words.

This time.

Because this time implies there will be a next time. And maybe even a time after next time. Another time for him to feel his cock inside you. Another time for him to make you cum on his fingers or watch you ride him. Some of his hopes spring back to life.

Internally, his heart is soaring. He kisses your hairline carefully as Leon slides his tip between your folds that are sticky with arousal. He teases himself with the feeling only a few times before nudging the tip inside.

Your head falls back against Chris’s chest and you moan. He kisses your temple and caresses your sides as if you need to be soothed. As if this isn’t the dick you’ve been taking nightly for the last few months.

Chris’s own length is rock solid against your back. Every small change in your facial expression or rise in pitch of your voice sends blood rushing to it, the threat of cumming untouched ever present.

Leon steadily pushes in until he’s buried all the way inside and you’re nice and filled to the hilt.

“So fucking tight. You gotta feel it, Chris. You thought she tasted good? Just wait till you feel her,” he grunts.

“I bet. I could tell from how cute her pussy was. She was clenching around nothing the whole time. I’m sure she loves to squeeze down anytime she’s got a cock in her,” Chris whispers

More hope was rising in him that this wouldn’t be a one night only thing, and it took all his strength not to smile like an idiot. His knuckles move down your cheek lovingly as he speaks to you and holds you while Leon thrusts. Your body rocks gently with the momentum, pushing you against Chris’s cock each time.

“She does love to get all tight. Just wants to suck me in so I can never leave,” Leon says and holds your thighs to start thrusting harder.

“Such a needy girl. I should’ve known, rookie,” Chris murmurs to you.

“It just feels so good,” you whine, “It’s not my fault.”

“Oh I know it’s not, precious,” Leon mocks, “Your head is always full of nothing but air when I’m around. It probably just gets worse with Chris here.”

You whine in protest and squirm a little, unknowingly grinding your ass on Chris’s cock and coaxing a moan from him. Leon’s dick hits deeper too, bringing you heightened pleasure.

“You’re not an airhead, baby. You’re a sweet girl. My rookie. You just wanna feel good, hm?” Chris says teasingly.

You nod along, and from the look on his face, Leon is amused, pleased with the dynamic Chris opened up.

“No one said she isn’t sweet. Just that she goes a little dumb as soon as she’s got my dick in her,” he teases.

He sighs and his eyes roll back for a moment as you clamp around you. He keeps rocking in and out, enjoying the wet sounds coming from each one of his movements. He also can’t get enough of your mewls or the way you're clutching one of Chris’s forearms right now.

“Maybe he’s right about that. You just work so hard all the time. You need something that can calm you down,” Chris says and squeezes his arms around you, “You’re still so precious.”

You look up at Chris with lovey dovey eyes, remembering why you’d been so enamored with him in the first place. He talked to you like you were the sweetest thing to walk this earth and made you believe it. He made you feel cared for in a way that was indescribable. Pure feeling.

“Yeah you are,” Leon grunts, “And you can go as dumb as you want right now, baby. We’re both here taking care of you. I’m sure Chris loves holding you while all you can do is whine for more.”

“That’s right. I love seeing you like this, knowing you’re taken care of,” he whispers, “And you know I’ve always got you. I’ll never let my rookie go.”

All the words are overwhelming. You pant and writhe more in Chris’s grasp.

“You getting close again, babydoll?” Leon asks, knowing your tells.

You whimper and nod quickly.

“Good. I am too,” he grunts.

He starts working himself into you harder. The momentum from each snap of his hips keeps you rubbing against Chris’s shaft and working him closer to the edge as well. All three of you are panting, muscles tensing up in some way as the end approaches.

You stare into Leon’s eyes for a moment before rotating your head and looking up at Chris. Both sets of eyes are fixated on you. The overflow of attention is the final strike your body needs to start convulsing with release. The older man’s arms tighten around you, keeping you close as your skin heats up and your noises grow whinier. Your boyfriend keeps a steel grip on your hips, his fingers stroking back and forth.

“That’s my girl,” Leon grunts, “Let it out, baby.”

He moans and lets his head fall back as he feels himself hurtling towards the finish line.

“My rookie. Just perfect, honey,” Chris whispers, “I’m so proud of you.”

The words nearly triple your pleasure and you continue to ride out the high as Leon finally cums and shoots it inside you. He nearly growls as he pounds into you, completely emptying himself. All the rutting is enough for Chris to cum too. He spurts his hot seed against the small of your back, holding onto you with all he has as his hips jerk upwards and he imagines it’s him buried inside you.

Leon’s the first to get his bearings back. He pulls out slowly, letting you adjust to the feeling of emptiness. He then rolls to the side of you and Chris, watching the final moments with the other man. You lie on his chest with your eyes drooping, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. His hand lazily runs down your side. He savors your warmth on his chest. Almost subconsciously, it feels like you really are his in this moment.

That is until you regain your composure and sit up. You hop up for a moment to clean off the mess on your back. He knew you’d have to, but the sight still makes Chris’s heart ache.

As you return to the bed, you give your boyfriend a dizzy smile and crawl over to curl up at his side. He rubs your back and pecks your forehead. For the two of you, it’s like a regular night. Chris isn’t sure where he fits in this anymore. Should he just move to the bed you two had claimed earlier? Should he make the two of you get up?

He’s running through solutions in his mind when your hand comes out and grabs his wrist. You’re looking up at him with some sort of longing in your eyes.

“Stay with us,” you say.

It was softer than he ever heard from you, different from when you introduced yourself on your first day of work or made a mistake on a mission. It was a new kind of shyness that just made him want more from you. He stares at you and contemplates the idea. Leon raises his eyebrows and gives him a look, giving him the silent ok he needed to slowly lower himself to the mattress.

He shuts off the light first, leaving the motel room in darkness except for the glow of the yellow street lamps shining through the window. His head hits the pillow, and he drapes an arm over you. You’re still leaning into Leon for the most part which he makes no move to interfere with.

The three of you don’t say anything for the rest of the night. Silence permeates the atmosphere of your shared space. The events of the last hour run through each of your minds in different ways. The mission had taken a back seat for now. It could return to prominence tomorrow once the mental dust had settled.

Leon’s eyes flutter shut first, and his deep, even breaths of sleep follow. You’re barely awake with your cheek squished against his pectoral muscle. Chris watches you, the outline of your face illuminated from the faint light outside. He wonders if this really will be the only time with you. If his taste of heaven will remain that, a sample of what he could have had. He chooses to not believe that and drive himself crazy.

He shuts his eyes too and brings his face to nestle against the crook of your neck. His breath hits your neck when he sighs. In the abyss that is the motel room, he feels your hands come up to rest on his arm.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield x y/n #chris redfield x you #chris redfield imagine #chris redfield smut

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astiesgoldenberry · 11 months ago

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This is actually so good holy shit‼️‼️‼️ looking forward to the next parts 🫡

The Wife, The Lover and the Bastard Son

Chris Redfield x Reader

Part 1

Synopsis: After a long day of being interrogated about Wesker's work in Africa, you try to drown your sorrows in liquor. Too bad it won't work out as planned with Chris Redfield watching your every move.

Includes: Minor reader injury, excessive drinking, vaguely referenced unwanted advances from a stranger, spoliers for Re5, my first time posting my writing publicly. Enjoy!

Hurt/Comfort with plot. Reader is referred to as 'Doc.'

wc: 3.8k+

“I had it handled.” Your tone was matter of fact and icy. You were not the best fighter by any stretch of the imagination, but you were positive you could have taken down that wobbling drunk with a good kick.

Chris kept his eyes on the road. From the streetlights outside the car that came and went as Chris drove his hummer towards your home, you could see his stony expression illuminate and darken.

“You were just about on the receiving end of a right hook.” His hands tightly grip the steering wheel. Not in anger, but in frustration at the situation you’d found yourself in.

“And I was preparing to counter just like Jill taught me. Your point?”

“My point? You almost got in a bar fight! Why were you even in there at this time of night?”

Your mouth falls open. “Oh so it’s my fault some small-dicked idiot doesn’t know what ‘no’ means?”

“That’s not what I said-“

“And you didn’t have to! I’m a grown ass woman. I can handle my own problems. I don’t need you playing hero for me. And if I want to drink myself into a coma on a weekday, I have every right to do that without getting chewed out by you.”

You look at Chris with a withering glare and he shuts his mouth and keeps driving. A tense silence overtakes the car. In truth, your night getting cut short by a drunk asshole then Chris intervening on the almost fight was just the final incident after a long day that made you see red. You shift uncomfortably in your carefully curated, business casual outfit. A minute later, you let out a tired sigh.

“I’m sorry. If you must know, I had a tough day and I didn’t want to drink alone.”

The captain tilts his head, still keeping his eyes on the road. “The D.S.O. interview?”

You could feel your eyes getting hot. When you had married Albert Wesker all those years ago, you couldn’t imagine that your life would be like this; living under the protection of the B.S.A.A. and questioned on yet another aspect of Albert Wesker’s work every few months. It’s days like this when it feels like Albert isn’t actually gone. Even in death, his stain on the world of bioterrorism still found ways to torment your existence. You being a former Umbrella scientist didn’t help your case either, regardless of the fact that you never participated in Albert’s schemes.

“More like interrogation… but yeah.”

Chris’ expression softens. “What was it about this time?”

You take a deep calming breath, debating on keeping the details to yourself as usual. Chris wasn’t your friend. He was your designated agent that gave you assignments whenever another virus made itself known (which was more often than you would think). You made a point to keep things professional between you two. Anything more felt taboo given the circumstances of your relationship. The will to keep it that way had worn thin with the day’s events, so you relented but kept the answer short.

“Africa. Again.”

More silence. You notice Chris sigh and look annoyed, but don’t draw attention to it. Africa was a sensitive subject for both of you. It marked the explosive conclusion to your marriage with Albert, and the beginning of your strained alliance with his murderer. You didn’t hold it against Chris in the slightest. You really didn't. Deep down you know Albert would have ended humanity with a smirk plastered on his face. You’d already mourned the loss of the man you married long before his heart stopped beating. Since then, Chris had surprisingly and unwaveringly advocated for you. He even worked out a deal on you becoming a consultant on viruses for the B.S.A.A. in exchange for protection. He’d helped you so much over the years. More than you could ever hope to repay. That debt continues to grow with every kind gesture. You hated it.

Tonight for example: after Chris grabbed that drunk’s arm on the backswing and pinned him to the bar counter, both of you got kicked out. You didn’t even get your drink. You’d already had a rough day, so you yelled at Chris about him being a stalker and an asshole as you stomped back to your car. A comical insult considering knowing your whereabouts was a part of his job. All you wanted to do was go back home, resigned to drink alone, but lo and behold your car wouldn’t start and Chris noticed. He had every right to leave you to fend for yourself, but instead he insisted on driving you home.

“You’d think after three years they’d run out of questions to ask. The government keeps hiring investigators more stupid than the last. It’s incredible really.” You quip with some annoyance after a moment, trying to ease the tension. Chris still stares at the road in silence, so you keep going.

“They demanded a lot of answers about why we helped each other that day. That was a fun trip down memory lane. Don’t be surprised if someone calls you to verify that I told them the truth.”

Chris takes a deep breath, shifts in his seat and his posture relaxes slightly. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I am talking to you.”

“I mean beyond the one-word answers. I know there’s a lot on your mind. You can talk to me.”

You roll your eyes and go back to looking at the streetlights go by out the window.

“Right. Because you’re so unbiased about this subject.”

“I’m serious. I’ll just listen if you need to vent.”

“You’re already driving me home. I don’t need any more favors from you tonight.”

“It’s not a favor. I just want to help.”

You think about it for a moment. This wasn’t the first time Chris tried to get you to open up to him. But instead of brushing it off like before, you consider it. And the more you thought about it, the more it made sense that Chris would be the perfect person to weigh in on your interview with the D.S.O. He worked under Wesker at the R.P.D., knew nearly every single thing there was to know about him from tracking Wesker down over the years, and he’d witnessed Wesker’s possessive treatment of you the day he died. He didn’t look at you with disdain like most of the B.S.A.A. He saw you for who you were. The only person who could even be remotely as qualified was Jill, but she was still getting back on her feet after what happened in Africa. Plus, you doubted she would willingly listen to a rant about anything remotely associated to the man who brainwashed her.

Plus it would be nice to have someone listen to your complaints without looking at you like you were the scum of the earth.

Eventually, Chris pulls up to the small house that the B.S.A.A. had put you in for witness protection. It was an older one story house with a few problems here and there, but it was inconspicuous and you had managed to make it feel more like ‘yours’ with the handful decorations and plants you had accumulated over the last few months.

Chris pulls into the driveway and puts his hummer into park. Both of you just sit in silence for a few seconds, with Chris staring at the steering wheel and you at the sad excuse of a flower bed leading up to your front door.

“Doc-”

“Sure.”

Chris looks at you, confused. “What?”

You turn your gaze from the window to Chris. “I’d… appreciate having someone to vent to.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car. You lean your head back in the car before you close the door with a cheeky smile. “Care to join me so I don’t have to drink alone?”

____________________________________

If nothing else, Chris Redfield proved to be a great drinking buddy. He took what was offered to him, drank without complaint, and took care to keep both of your glasses full throughout your animated storytelling of the day’s events. Although he did limit himself because he had to be sober enough to drive home, which you understood.

You on the other hand, had enough drinks in you to cause the vibe of the room to feel fuzzy, your social filter to disappear, your shoes and socks to be discrded in the corner, and to have any soft surface to feel like the most comfortable thing in the universe. You had completely relaxed laying out on the end of your sofa by the side table where Chris opted to sit in the armchair caddy cornered to the couch next to you, listening intently to your retelling of the days events.

“…then this pencil pushing government lackey asks me if I personally had anything to do with the development of that plaga strain that popped up in Africa.”

You motion your empty glass to Chris, and he reaches over from his spot in the armchair to grab the whiskey bottle on the coffee table to pour more into your glass while nursing his own drink.

“Thank you. And when I told him no, he started going on this tirade. And if he’d read any further than the last name at the top of the damn page, then he’d know my specialty isn’t parasites. It’s viruses! Yet this half-assed excuse of-”

You hiccup and take a moment to compose yourself after the hiccup before continuing while Chris makes no attempt to hide his smirk at your drunkenness.

“-half-assed excuse of a government agent goes on this rant of how I had to have been involved. There was no conceivable way that I wasn’t at least consulted on the development of the new plaga. So I tried to break down the differences between a virus and a parasite to him, and by the end of that little lesson I was convinced he didn’t know his ass from his elbow!”

You down the whiskey is one clean chug. Chris let’s out a light-hearted laugh at that, much to your annoyance.

“It’s not funny,” you admonish while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It isn’t, but the way you’re telling it is.”

“Well, I’m glad my suffering is entertaining to you.”

“Go on, what happened next?”

Your face grows a bit more serious.

“The bit after that isn’t as funny.”

Another charismatic smile. “Go ahead. I want to hear it.”

You look at Chris, and the look on his face is so genuine, so kind, that you find yourself speaking before you can stop yourself.

“He started questioning me on what I was doing if I wasn’t helping create these things. He was asking why I stood by and did nothing. Why didn’t I try to contact anyone, sabotage the work, try to leave… that kind of thing. And how many deaths could have been avoided if I just sucked it up and called someone.”

In truth, those questions that the agent asked you prompted a well of guilt that you’d safely tucked away to return with a vengeance. In reality, there was very little you could have done to influence the outcome of anything Wesker was involved in, and there was nothing that could have been done to stop Uroboros before Chris and Sheva were sent to Africa.

But there was always that little pit of guilt haunting the back of your mind: If you were cleverer, you could have gotten a radio sooner. If you cared more, the subjects for those experiments wouldn’t have died. If you weren’t so afraid you could have stolen a phone or a laptop and ended Wesker’s reign of bioweapon terror years sooner.

That last one weighed heavy on your mind long before the D.S.O. interview.

You feel tears start to prick your eyes and you remember why you wanted to drink in the first place. You can’t be consumed by guilt if you’re too intoxicated to remember it.

“Top me off will you?” The request comes out in a mumble, laced with a false jovialness that not even you are convinced of. You don’t even hold up the glass in Chris’ general direction. You only stare mindlessly into it from your perch on the couch.

“Hey…look at me.”

You look up from your glass and become slightly startled from Chris’ close proximity. You hadn’t even realized Chris had gotten up from the armchair on your right to kneel in front of you at the end of the couch. You can feel the heat of him he’s so close. His concerned and comforting look and tone brings you dangerously close to shedding tears. Suddenly, Chris’ presence in your house feels suffocating and his gaze makes you feel exposed. You look to the side and stare at the rug.

“I’m sorry this was a bad idea. I think you should go.”

You move to get up from the couch and Chris mercifully backs up and gives you room to walk. Calling your movement a walk at this point was generous. You shuffled like the undead trying to head to your front door; unbalanced yet somehow still walking upright.

“Doc-”

You call over your shoulder back to him. “I’ll escort you out. Do me a solid and forget this happened.” You start to turn back towards the door and you feel your foot catch, stomach drop and body lurch forward.

In the moment, you forget about the little wooden divider between the hallway to your front door and the living room. Thankfully, by throwing your other foot forward and flailing your arms you catch your weight and you don’t fall to the ground. But the shock of suddenly almost losing your balance causes the grip on your glass to loosen. Before you could stop it, the glass in your hand slips between your fingers and shatters in the little hallway to your front door between your kitchen and living room. In your drunken and vulnerable state, the symphony of glass sounds like a death toll.

“Oh.. shit I’m sorry about that. Just… just get out. Watch the glass.”

You didn’t know why you were apologizing to Chris for breaking your own things. You felt like you were being viewed under a microscope and every little thing was being analyzed by Chris, who still wore his worried demeanor under a decisive mask of calmness.

“Hey it’s alright. You go sit back down…” His voice is so infuriatingly calm.

Chris’ body starts to try and move past you towards your kitchen, presumably to find something to clean up your blunder for you. The very idea of having this man do any more favors for you made your chest tighten and you to move to clean up the mess before he does too quickly.

“No this needs to ge- mph!”

When you stepped towards your kitchen to get a broom, you felt an agonizingly sharp pain in your foot. You instinctively lift the injured foot and lean on the archway, but drunkenness and balance rarely ever agree with each other. Your hand doesn’t gain enough purchase on the wall, so your arm slides past its target and you gracelessly and painfully crumple to the ground. It was a kind of fall that knocked the wind out of you for a moment.

“Shit.” You breathe out heavily, trying and failing to hold back your tears and attempting to get up. Chris is quick to act before you make much progress. He kneels down in front of you, gently grasping your shoulders, taking care to step around the glass in the process.

“Where does it hurt? That sounded painful.”

“I’m fine.” You grit through your teeth.

Once you’re sitting upright on the ground, Chris takes one look at your foot, and you see a slight shift in his expression where his eyes get just a tad wider. You can physically see him shift from concerned friend to authoritative captain. He speaks with soft authority.

“Stay put. Don’t get up.”

Before you can say anything, he disappears into your kitchen. You lift your leg and tilt your head to get a better view of your foot and you see red. Your foot is smeared with blood and bits of glass. You instinctively go to pull a larger glass piece out of your foot, but even with all of the whiskey you drank, it hurts like hell and you hiss in pain. You hear hurried footfall from the kitchen.

“Hey! Don’t do that.”

Chris gently removes the hand that’s trying to pick out the glass from your foot, places a wet rag in your hand, then moves it back to your foot, lightly clasping his hand over yours and your foot for a moment and you wince. He watches you with kind eyes.

“Keep that on there, ok?”

“I don’t want your-”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish before you see him return to the kitchen. A moment later he reappears with a broom and a first aid kit. Chris tosses the first aid kit beside you and quickly sweeps the glass into a small pile by the arch so it’s out of the way of foot traffic and haphazardly leans the broom on the wall. Smudges of blood remain on the floor, but Chris ignores it in favor of sitting down next to you and digging supplies out of the med kit; disinfectant, tweezers, gauze.

“Stop! Okay? You really don’t have to do that…” You hear your words slurring together.

Chris ignores your protest and gently, but firmly, wraps his fingers around your ankle. He pulls it towards himself and you let go of the wet cloth as he perches your ankle on his knee.

“I do, actually. You’ve had a lot to drink and this glass isn’t going to pick out itself.”

“Will you just stop? I can bandage myself up.”

A lie. You’re too drunk and you know it. He knows it. You weakly try to pull back your foot, but there is resistance from Chris’ grip. You looks at you with a soft, but exasperated look.

“You’re drunk and you’re bleeding! Just let me take care of you.”

“And why the fuck do you even want to?” You’re angry. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get friendly with Chris. Pissed at Chris for being so nice after your repeated attempts to keep him at arms length. Heated from him ignoring your requests to stop helping you because you sure as hell don’t deserve it.

Chris looks at you and answers straight away, gently pulling your foot back towards him by your ankle.

“Because I’m not going to leave you when you need help!”

You just looked at Chris with your puffy eyes, flushed face, and tear-streaked cheeks. You two sit there for a long moment looking at each other. You’re frozen in your spot from his words.

“Why the hell are you of all people still trying to help me? You should hate me.” Your tone is incredulous and quiet.

You knew for a fact that your presence at the B.S.A.A. as a consultant instead of criminal at Chris’ own insistence caused far more trouble than it was worth over the years. The attempted kidnappings, the death threats, the extortion attempts and countless other events that occurred as a result of your proximity to Wesker and the B.S.A.A. caused, at best, a headache for the captain. Wasted time, wasted resources, wasted manpower, wasted anything that could be used to fight bioweapons instead of bad actors that wanted you dead at worst. Chris had absolutely no incentive to keep helping you after Africa, yet here he was. He had every right to look at you with disgust for sleeping with the enemy, yet he’s always tried to befriend you.

The silence stretches for an uncomfortable amount of time while Chris picks the glass out of your foot. It stretches through Chris disinfecting the wounds. It ends when he starts to bandage your foot with a roll of gauze.

“Your only crime here is falling in love with the wrong man.”

Chris wraps the final bit of gauze around your foot, and looks back up at you with a reserved playfulness.

“Last I checked, you get left off with a warning on that one.”

“People died because I didn’t do enough-”

“People died because Wesker was a psychopath. That’s not your fault.”

You look at Chris in silent shock.

No one in the years after Wesker died had told you that you weren’t at fault for what he did. You were always met with suspicious glances, strict professionalism, or outright disdain when you were forced to talk about him or any projects he was related to. You thought you deserved it. Even Jill still held you at arm’s length when it came to being vulnerable about what happened with Wesker. This was the first time that anyone had shown you genuine compassion and absolved you completely of guilt. And it’s devastating.

You can’t do anything except burst into tears.

Your vision goes blurry and before you can even think about stopping it, your body is wracked with sobs and you cry. Still unbalanced from your drinking, you lean on the wall facing Chris.

There’s a moment where Chris isn’t sure of what to do. But he knows that he can’t leave you like this. Chris tentatively reaches out his hand towards your shoulder, carefully watching you to gauge whether or not you wanted physical comfort.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay…” Chris’ voice falls over you like a weighted blanket. The heavy soothing tonality of his voice cuts through guilt that had been plaguing your mind and you can’t help but lean into his touch when his hand rubs your shoulder.

You don’t fight him when he pulls you into his lap. His embrace is warm, comforting and everything that you didn’t know you needed up until the moment you had it. One of your hands grab a fistful of his shirt for support, and you bury your face in Chris’ neck as you continue to sob.

“It’s alright, let it out…”

The captain’s tone never wavers outside of that low, soothing timbre. Chris uses the hand that’s not wrapped around your torso to rub comforting circles between your shoulders. His touch is consistent and methodical. It takes a long time, but eventually your breathing starts to even, sobs morph into sniffles, and rigid muscles relax into Chris’ embrace.

“Do you need anything? Anything at all?”

You hesitate for a moment, but nod your head. You let go of Chris’ shirt and maneuver your arms over his shoulders and squeeze. Chris gets the message immediately. Chris wraps his arms around you in a tight and comforting hug. The heat of him engulfs you fully and for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything is okay.

There’s no Wesker, no D.S.O., no bioterrorism organizations intruding on your life.

There’s only you and Chris.

And for once, that’s enough.

_____________________________

Hopefully this will be a full series but we'll see if that happens with my work schedule. Thanks for reading!

#🎀. ݁ *:･ﾟreblog✧*:･ﾟ #reading this late at night #hyped for the next one #resident evil #resident evil x reader #chris redfield imagines #chris redfield x reader #resident evil fanfiction

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xopinkroses · 6 months ago

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Sleeping with the RE boys + girls (SFW)♥

Summary; How the RE boys (Chris and Leon) and girls (Jill and Claire) sleep with their s/o. Warnings; nightmares, insomnia, sleeping issues

MASTERLIST🌸

Jill Valentine

Jill hides how sleep deprived she really is well, she hasn't had a genuine good nights sleep since before that night in the Spencer mansion. More often than not you'll be gently shaking her awake at her desk to guide her into bed for the night. Her sleep is plagued with nightmares and she clings to you tightly through the night, seeking you out both for comfort and to reassure herself that your still with her. Sometimes her whimpering and crying in her sleep will wake you up, but you never tell her when it happens-- you simply wrap your arms around her and run your fingers through her hair, whispering comforting words into her ear until she settles down for the night.

Chris Redfield

Chris has a rigid sleep schedule that he follows religiously and never strays from, no excuses. Shower at 9pm, in bed by 9:30pm and asleep for 10pm-- wake up at 5am the next morning. During the night his burly arms will slowly creep around you, pulling you into his chest and burying his face into the back of your neck. He doesn't snore but you can feel a deep rumbling in his chest as he softly murmurs in his sleep. He's like a bear, holding you and keeping you warm and safe through the night. He has nightmares occasionally but tends to sleep through them, his grip around you tightening, like he's protecting you from the monsters in his dreams.

Claire Redfield

Claire is a cuddlebug and practically koala-bears herself to you at bedtime, watching a TV show or scrolling through yours phone and talking until sleep takes you both. She snores, and will deny it vehemently, and tends to toss and turn-- whining and grumbling to herself as she twists herself into a pretzel, getting tangled in the bedding as she cuddles into you. Sometimes she sleepwalks, usually only when she's stressed though, and will lumber around the apartment until she either comes back to bed on her own or crashes on the couch. If you wake up to her sleepwalking, she'll ramble incoherently to you as you gently coax her back into bed.

Leon Kennedy

Leon has to be exhausted to get a decent nights sleep so he usually goes for a late night run to clear his mind and tire himself out. By the time he's back and showered you are already half asleep in bed. He's a big guy but he's easily able to slip into bed beside you without jostling you too much and drapes one of his muscular arms over your waist and presses a kiss to your shoulder. It's late and he's tired, he has work early in the morning, but it'll still take him a while to fall asleep-- and when he does he's restless, nuzzling into you and loosening and tightening his arms around you, furrowing his brow as his dreams are infested by horrible memories. He talks in his sleep, usually quite clearly too, and you have sworn yourself to secrecy that you'll never repeat any of it. Sometimes he repeats past conversations, or say your name and tell you he loves you, or he'll just quietly ramble about whatever has been on his mind lately. He rarely wakes up during the night but when he does he's careful not to wake you as well.

~ 🖤

#resident evil x reader #jill valentine x reader #chris redfield x reader #claire redfield x reader #leon kennedy x reader #re x reader #resident evil imagines

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tiredsurvivoronmain · 7 months ago

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Kinda makes me sad that whenever Chris forms a bond/relationship or teams up with a guy he ends up losing them, Leon being the only one who hasn't died (possibly Wesker as well since it's apparent he's actually alive after re5)

#i don't know how long or how much he knew ethan but losing him hit Chris hard #wesker betrays chris but he still cared about him when the tyrant attacked #after what happened with piers i imagine he must find it hard not to get too attached to anybody #in re8 he seems very distant and isolated even with his own team #chris redfield #wesker #albert wesker #piers nivans #leon kennedy #ethan winters

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yourgentlegirlfriend · 1 year ago

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and my man, thank you to my man.

#yourgentlegf #milascreams #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #chris redfield #jill valentine #death island #re death island

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lilmoonbunny · 1 year ago

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Would you write some re8!chris redfield sugar daddy headcanons?? With fem reader please☺️

Of course! Sorry that this took so long, I've been sick D:

I wasn't sure if you wanted them to end up together, but I've added some of that too but I'll split it up with a header.

NSFW below the cut as usual :)

Chris makes a lot of money and has pretty much no use for it, so he figured that he would help someone else which is how he ended up on a sugar daddy website.

He wasn’t too sure about it at first. Everyone seemed quite boring, but then he met you.

You were sweet, kind, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him and you guys ended up meeting up.

It was a bit awkward at first, Chris being rather quiet, but you happily carried the conversation and helped him feel more comfortable with talking to you. Eventually, you were both chatting as though you had known each other for years.

You told him what you did with your life, and he shared what he could about his job.

Then it came to discussing your arrangement.

He liked you and wanted to help you with money, especially considering that you had expressed how you were struggling for cash at the moment.

Chris didn’t want to pressure you into sex or anything you weren’t comfortable with. In all honesty, he just wanted company whilst he was home. He didn’t have many friends and the few that he did have weren’t around often.

He felt slightly pathetic paying for company, but you reassured him that it’s okay and that he doesn’t have to. That was the main reason he chose to go with it; you were a genuinely sweet girl.

You two arranged to meet once a week, but often you met more than that since you both enjoyed each other’s company.

You’d go shopping together and anything that you looked at for more than a second, Chris would buy you, even when you insisted that he didn’t have to.

He gave you $200 each time you guys met up which ended up being a lot when you started meeting multiple times a week.

You did feel slightly guilty for it, but he was quick to tell you it was okay and that he enjoyed helping you. Your consideration for him was one of the reasons that he really liked you.

Chris would be lying if he said that he wasn’t attracted to you. He had gotten off to the thought of you multiple times but would never tell you that. He didn’t want you to feel pressured into anything.

Chris starts paying you more after a few months. He wanted to make sure that you were going to stay before he increased your allowance.

It got to a point where he didn’t want you to leave and started asking to meet up more often. You, of course, agreed. You really enjoyed his company also. The money was nice too.

Your ‘dates’ gradually became more frequent and eventually you would spend time around his place. That was how your first sexual encounter happened.

You two were having takeout and watching a movie when you accidentally brushed his thighs. He tensed and prayed that he wouldn’t get hard. Not everything happens the way you wish in life, and he did.

You didn’t seem to notice at first, but you did after a few moments.

You didn’t hesitate to ask if he wanted help with that and Chris froze.

It was obvious, at least to you, that you were attracted to him and wanted him.

“You don’t have to. It’s fine, honestly, it’ll go away.” He said, feeling bad for making you feel that way.

“I want to, Chris.”

He hesitated for a moment, shifting to adjust himself so his pants weren’t as tight.

“Are you sure?”

You moved to his lap, kissing his neck and he groaned at the sensation.

“Absolutely.”

You didn’t sleep together that night. You two made out and you ended up giving him a blowjob. Chris swore he could have cum just from watching you with your swollen lips around his cock and his hand in your hair.

It wasn’t awkward like he expected it to be. The way you smiled up at him made him feel comfortable with you.

He paid you extra that night and you kissed his cheek after he drove you home.

You two ended up meeting even more after that night, most of them ending in the same way.

You mainly focused on his pleasure, but he wouldn’t let you without returning the favour. In fact, it was usually you who came first from his fingers whilst you sat on his lap, lips attached to his neck.

He gets off on getting you off. Loves hearing you moan and seeing your blissful face as you cum.

The first time you two had sex, he had to hold himself back. You were just so perfect for him, and he could have cum within seconds just from how good you felt around him.

Eventually, though, Chris ended up developing actual feelings for you, more so than just a friendly companion. He cursed himself so much over this and planned on never telling you out of fear of making it awkward; he really didn’t want you to leave him.

It was the same for you, of course. It wasn’t just about companionship and money anymore; you genuinely liked him.

With your meetings becoming more frequent, it was hard to hide your feelings, but thankfully for you, Chris is pretty much oblivious to such a thing, so the blushing cheeks weren’t too worrying.

Chris, however, didn’t have to work too hard to hide his feelings. His job had him hiding a lot of his emotions, so it was quite natural to him. Although, it was somewhat obvious with how often he was asking you to meet up and how he was paying you more, but you didn’t want to read into it too much, worried that it was just your feelings making you think this.

Despite how well he could hide his feelings, he wasn’t exactly good with jealousy, so when he found out you were hanging out with a guy who clearly liked you, he wasn’t happy.

Chris knew that he had no right to feel this way, you weren’t his, but he couldn’t help it. He really really liked you, and the thought of you being with someone else hurt him in a way he never knew could. So, he did something he shouldn’t have, he called you to come over.

His voice sounded stern on the phone which had you worried that you had done something wrong. All the way to his apartment, you were anxious.

The moment the door closed behind you, Chris’s lips were on yours, one hand on the back of your neck whilst the other rested on your waist.

You were shocked, but quick to reciprocate the kiss.

“Chris, what’s wrong?” You asked after you two had slept together. “You seem sad.”

Chris hesitated for a moment, avoiding your gaze for a second as he figured out what to say to you.

“I don’t like seeing you with other men.” He said, and immediately your cheeks felt warm.

“Why?”

“Because I like you, as more than a sugar baby and definitely more than a friend.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you simply kissed him again, hoping it expressed your feelings to him.

It was a sweet kiss, unlike the others before.

“I like you too, Chris.”

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagine #resident evil imagines #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #resident evil chris #resident evil chris redfield #Chris Redfield #Chris Redfield x reader #Chris Redfield imagine #Chris Redfield imagines #Chris Redfield fanfiction #Chris Redfield fanfic #Chris Redfield smut #Chris Redfield smuts #resident evil smut #sugar daddy au

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darling-i-read-it · 2 years ago

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Survivor's Guilt

Chris Redfield x fem!reader, Ethan Winters x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: angst, breakup, lose ending because i cant make decisions, chris’s trauma^tm

Author’s Note: I would totally be down to do a part 2 to this if anyone wants ittttttt. Also I made Mia his sister because I hate her and need her to be so irrelevant lol. I wanted this to be better but alas we are here. I just needed to write something with my favorite resident evil characters. these two will always be it for me <3

Summary: Chris and you had been together for years and partners for longer. He broke up with you when he felt it getting too dangerous. Years later, when your boyfriend Ethan gets lost in Louisiana, you call him for backup.

Genre: angst, yearning

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Survivor’s guilt is defined as a condition of persistent mental and emotional stress experienced by someone who has survived an incident in which others died.

When you feel the pain in your chest when talking about an incident that you lived through that you shouldn’t have. When you feel like you are living for so many people that you have lost. When you imagine what it would be like for them if they had taken your place, if you had just been granted access to death. When you are not worthy of the life you are living and constantly being told you're the hero when all you were was the ending.

Chris Redfield has survivor’s guilt. He could not tell you the amount of people he has known that are no longer walking around with him. He could not tell you the amount of funerals he had been in or been to.

He knew grief like it was an old friend. He knew the inside of grief, the texture of the walls that caved in around him. He knew it like he was born alongside it. Grief was a twin to Chris Redfield.

He couldn’t look in the mirror without seeing his companions. Grief and guilt.

He’d like to think he knew the patterns better than anyone else. If someone were to know what it looked like right before he lost someone, it would be him. He wished death wasn’t so spontaneous. He hoped that one day he would save someone on purpose, save someone that he wanted within the world.

The warmth in his chest when he saw you was an indicator. It was a warning sign. It was alarm bells. The taste of your lips was a familiar feeling of something he should not have. The feel of your skin was a promise from the world that it would be righted again. You would be taken away. You had to be, so the world could turn, so that he wouldn’t forget the lives he was living for.

“You’ve been quiet,” you said, gently. You were sitting across from him, two dinner plates between you. His eyes flicked up to yours. You were so good at reading him. You were so concerned, like his personal welfare were your own responsibility. “How was your day?”

“Long,” he said, through a breath. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to scrounge up something else to say.

“Hopefully they’ll be more bearable once we get jobs together again,” you suggested. The two of you were working for the BSAA and often were sent into the field together. It was helpful for missions if you were both with someone you knew. Usually the job didn’t care that much, knowing that their people were disposable. Warm bodies were not a luxury in a world with 7 billion of them.

But recently you had a drought of time without each other. Different goals, same organization. You missed having him with you to help. You weren’t used to having to vocalize yourself because Chris could read you like a book. He liked to say it was a talent but you knew the truth. He had just learned you so well that he couldn’t know you any better.

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. You met his gaze.

“What is it?” You wanted to make a joke. Don’t like the Chinese take out? or Jeans too tight? but you refrained. Something had been eating at him for weeks it felt like. He didn’t hold you as close. He was a physical person and his bear hugs were like they’re own luxury.

Chris liked to think of himself as a brave man. He was a lot of things, not a lot of them good, but he was at least brave. He took the steps that needed to be taken. He tried his best to save people for their best interests, not for him. So why was this so hard?

“I think we should break up.”

It was like he had broken the sound barrier. You looked around, searching for an indication that this was some sort of joke. Nothing came.

“What? Why?”

“I think it would be better for both of us.”

“You can’t speak for me.”

“I can.”

“No, no you can’t,” you argued. You were raising your voice now, anger that he was willing to let this go so quickly. “What happened? What did I do?”

Your voice broke his heart. The desperation, the scrounging for something to blame. He was to blame. Didn’t you see that?

“We can’t keep going like this.”

“What?”

“We can’t keep acting like this life is sustainable for either of us. It was nice while it lasted.” He swallowed hard. “Its’ what’s best.”

“Is that what you want?”

There was such a betrayal in your eyes. You had never looked at him like that. Not even when he fucked up on the job, when his mistakes could’ve cost him lives. You never looked at him like he was anything less than perfect.

“Yes.” He couldn’t say anything else. You would see right through him if he spoke again. You would know why he was doing it, you would know that he wasn’t doing this because he wanted to but because he had to. You couldn’t live much longer. He knew how this went.

Your breathing was ragged. The gravity sat in your chest like a weight. If you thought about this for one more second you would start to cry.

“Okay.”

He closed his eyes. Your voice was childlike. It was as though he had just chastised you for doing your favorite thing. You stood up slowly. Each sound was too loud. You tossed your food into the garbage, movements sluggish.

You went through the kitchen door and you didn’t come back.

He sat there until he heard your car start.

You gazed down at your bullet proof vest. You felt it in your hands, the weight of it surprisingly familiar. It had seen action. There were scruffs on the sides from the elements and the relentless nights spent sleeping with it on. There was a sharpie marking at the bottom, messily placed there by Chris. You rubbed your finger along it.

“What’s that?”

You looked up.

Ethan Winters stood in the doorway to the bedroom. He walked forward a bit, looking over you to the object in your hands.

“Some stuff from when I worked with the BSAA,” you explained dryly. You handed it to him. He took it, assessing the weight.

“Good thing you don’t have to wear this dumbbell all the time,” he muttered. You laughed gently, successfully being taken out of your nostalgia.

“It’s like five pounds Ethan.”

“That’s heavy.” You shook your head, taking it back. You place it into its box. “Ready to go?”

“Almost,” you promised.

You and your boyfriend Ethan were moving into a new house. He had insisted on living in this one ever since his sister Mia went missing, just in case she returned looking for him. But it had been three years and you had outgrown it. He finally caved, allowing you to go domestic house shopping together.

It had been eight years since you left the BSAA. Eight years since you had seen Chris Redfield, eight years since he had broken up with you. Up until Ethan, you had only dated guys around you which was slim pickings. You thought you had a good one with Chris but that breakup wrecked you.

Then there was Ethan. Then there didn’t need to be anything else.

You had a new life, one that had nothing to do with bioweapons you had once been so accustomed to. You had one that was, as Chris would say, sustainable. You could grow old in your new house with Ethan. Get married. Maybe even have kids. You never would’ve been able to do that before.

“The van’s ready when you are,” he said. “I’m gonna call for pizza.”

“Who said I wanted pizza?”

“When do you not want pizza?”

He left the room. You were alone once again. You shut the box up and taped it. That was then and this is now.

You carried the box downstairs and placed it among the others. Ethan swung by and got some food, then met you back at your new home. You had already started to unload boxes and by the time they were all inside the sun was down. You sat on a cardboard box, munching on cold pizza, as Ethan plugged in his laptop.

“That was exhausting,” he muttered. He had shed his jacket and was now in just a tshirt and jeans that he had sweat through.

“So you’re too tired to christen the house?” He gave you a look. “You wanna finish the pizza.”

“Yes I wanna finish the pizza.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

“I need to shower anyway.” You got up, swallowing the last of your food. You hummed under your breath as you dug around the boxes to find your clothes. Ethan scrolled through his computer wordlessly. You patted his shoulder as you passed him with your clothes.

As you walked upstairs, Ethan opened up his email folders. To the sound of the bathroom door closing, he clicked on the newest one. It had been sent the night before, while he was sleeping. He had taken time off work to move in but this didn’t look like a work email. It didn’t have a title.

He opened it up.

Dulvey, Louisiana.

Baker farm.

Come get me.

The conversation seemed too rushed. You got out of the shower and there was a bombardment of feelings that followed. Ethan wanted to leave immediately. She wanted him to come and get her, after all these years. He was already looking at flights, at a route that he could drive. The words and pleads came stumbling out of his mouth.

She needs me.

She’s stuck there, she needs me.

The instinct that bubbled in your chest was one you were familiar with. The preparation for a place that no human should venture. You wanted to give him a gun and a vest and let him be.

“I got out of that life so that you and I could be safe.”

“This isn’t like that.”

“You know it is.”

You were sitting down to his standing. You looked up at him with real concern in your eyes.

“What else could it be? That she’s been taken and then all of the sudden sends you a cryptic email instead of calling the police? How would she even know you hadn’t changed your email? Come on Ethan, think about this.” Silence hung in the air, fighting one anothers wills. You and Ethan rarely got into arguments and you still weren’t sure if you had the power in this conversation or not. It was his sister, sure, but something was wrong here. If anyone would know, you would.

“I have to.”

“Let me come with you.” Your mind flashed back to the unopened box of your old things. You could put that vest back on. Would there be any coming back from that?

“No. No, I can’t let you. This isn’t your fight.”

“Your fight is my fight.”

“I can’t lose you both,” he said, voice low. There was an air of vulnerability about him that mixed with his natural headstrong nature. You knew that feeling, the pit in your chest of losing someone in the search for something else.

“Let’s go to bed. Think on this. Okay? We can talk about it in the morning,” you pleaded. Maybe if he thought about it for longer than two seconds he could stay with you. You could have that sustainable life.

It took him a moment of contemplation but he finally nodded. You breathed slowly as you stood up. You had nothing but the mattress on the floor. It wasn’t going to be comfortable but it wasn’t going to be awful. You had each other.

He got his pajamas on slowly. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head. You wanted to argue about this more but you had already stopped the conversation. You had to stick to your guns. He would feel differently in the morning.

He got under the comforter with you. There was a lone lamp beside his head, giving all the light in the room. He turned it off as he rested his head.

“Ethan,” you mumbled. He turned his head back to you and for just a moment, his thoughts cleared. It was just the two of you again. It could be just the two of you forever. “I love you.” His smile softened. He moved towards you, throwing his arm around you. You nuzzled into his chest.

“I love you too,” he promised but his heart didn’t seem in it like it usually did.

You woke up before the sun. Your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the darkness that engulfed the room. You groaned involuntarily. Ethan’s arm was no longer around you. You turned around to face him, ready to make some complaint, when you were met with emptiness. You paused, starring, delirious. It took you far too long to catch up to the obvious reason he was no longer gone.

Once it hit you, you started to move.

You threw yourself out of the mattress, running to teh bathroom. The house was still a maze to you. It would be home soon but it wasn’t home yet. The familiarity of it was missing which made it more eerie.

“Ethan!” you called, voice weak with sleep. You looked out the window, trying to find the shapes of the cars. One was missing. Your heart started to beat faster as you went into a panic. “Ethan!” you called again, louder now. You flung open every door desperately until you were back at the bedroom. Under the lamp there was a note. You rushed for it, almost ripping it while you snatched it.

I’m sorry. I love you more than anything.

I’ll be back soon, I swear.

You let out a shaky breath. You cursed, throwing the paper down weakly, kicking the wall.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whispered. You had to follow him. There was no other option. He had to know you would follow him. Despite it being 4 in the morning you turned all the lights in the house on. You searched for the box you had hoped to forget.

Finally, at your feet, was the recently taped box. You tore it open and grabbed the vest out of it. There was no use in dwelling on the signature or the comfortableness of it. You needed to get ready to go.

The Baker Farm was too far out of the way. You had started to lose cell service by the time you finally reached it. You had gone down the same dirt road Ethan had by the looks of his parked car. You wanted to slash the tires out of frustration. Knowing you were on the same insurance plan, you refrained.

You followed the lightly treaded walkway to the gate of a large house. The gate was locked and too tall to climb. You went around the edge to what looked to be the guest house.

You just had to hope you weren’t too far behind him. He had hours of a jump on you but you had seen his car. He was here.

You checked your phone. Nothing. Would you even get any calls out here?

You pushed forward through the guest house. It looked abandoned, like someone had just picked up and left dinner. The smell of mold traveled through the air. It almost felt like you could see the particles through the setting sun. Someone had left the door in the back open, leading to the long hallway. Something or someone had been pushed through a wall, resulting in debris flying everywhere. Someone had struggled here. Recently.

You fought the pit in your stomach and forced yourself to think of the best. It was normal. There were no bioweapons all the way out in the middle of Louisiana somewhere. Why would there be? Ethan was fine. Ethan had to be fine.

The tenseness of your shoulders was familiar. You did not miss the ache or the worry. You turned to go up the stairs. Deja Vu washed over you, brought on by archived feelings.

Chris attempted to never leave your side but he too often did. You were both used to finding each other again, it was part of the job. You could get separated by a wall or a weapon and you would find each other again.

It had been too long and the familiar fear creeped into your mind. He was here but you couldn’t hear him. He had to be here, his GPS assured you. The silence was deafening. You swore then to never yell at him again, if he could just emerge unscathed from the rubble of another fight. Could Chris Redfield go down like this? In the middle of some nameless mission, with just you to carry him back home?

“Here!”

Relief washed over you as you rushed back to him, moving aside the debris of a fight you had not been a witness too. Dirt covered his face. He was almost unrecognizable in the dried maroon blood that covered his body.

“Are you okay? Oh God. Oh God Chris,” you whispered, holding him with your hands like he wasn’t real.

��I’m okay,” he breathed. “I’m okay.”

You ached for the relief you had felt then. Ethan wasn’t as capable as Chris had been. Where would you find him? The top of the guest house revealed a larger view of the house. At the bottom was a man, a large mallet over his shoulder, dragging someone away by their feet.

Ethan.

He was unconscious but even just seeing him made you feel better.

Then you noticed the mold.

Something was wrong with that man, with that house. It was covering the ground, pulsating like it was alive. Instinct kicked in before feelings. You grabbed your phone out of your pocket, watching keenly to see where they were taking Ethan.

You glanced down at your phone, praying that his number hadn’t changed, and hovered over Chris’s name. You had never been able to do these things alone and you were no use to Ethan if you were dead.

You closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see yourself click the button. You put the phone up to your ear, listening to it ring, hoping he wouldn’t pick up, hoping you wouldn't be able to make a phone call this far out.

On the sixth ring you were beginning to lose whatever hope you had. Then he picked up.

“Hello?” His voice was wary but familiar. It made you weak in the knees, just hearing him speak, his cadence the exact same.

“I need you.”

You didn’t want to wait but you had given Chris the directions to your car. You didn’t want him to have to play catch up for you the entire time so you waited outside the guest house, pacing. You didn’t know how long you had but he promised he would be there in under an hour. You weren’t sure how he would manage that but you trusted his word.

Sure enough, just about fifty minutes later, he emerged from the bushes. Older. Weathered. His eyes were harder than they had been, less emotion behind his gaze. You reminded yourself you were doing this for Ethan, even as the rush of emotions had returned. You hadn’t seen each other since you had moved out.

“You came,” you breathed.

“You called.” You pursed your lips, wanting to thank him, wanting to think about the elephant in the room, wanting to beg him for answers that had been plaguing you forever. Instead you were gentle with your words.

“Thank you Chris.” He nodded once.

“We’ve been scoping this area. The disappearances here are akin to something consistent with bioweapons,” he said, walking past you. “Where’d you last see your friend?”

“Ethan was out towards the main house. I’ve spotted at least one bioweapon but the ground is covered in some sort of black mass. Do you know anything about that?” He handed you a gun without a word. You took it. It was yours. He had kept yours. It begged so many questions. Had he been using it? Did he even recognize it as yours anymore? Did he dig it out of the rubble, just like you did the vest you were wearing?

“A bit.”

“You’re being awfully cagey.”

“This is still work for me.” You nodded once. He was going to stay reserved. It didn’t matter what you two had, he was here for the job. This is exactly the reason you left without a fuss. It would always be the job and then you.

“Alright. Welll follow me.”

At the edge of the property was an older house, one that was falling apart at the seams. You managed to get around the bayou to enter it in an attempt to reach the main house, where you were sure they were keeping Ethan.

“What’s he doing out here?” Chris questioned. You glanced at him. It was like seeing a ghost in his eyes. How could Chris have become a stranger to you? How had you gotten here?

“Looking for his sister Mia. She went missing three years ago and yesterday he got an email from her with this location.”

“Not exactly tangible evidence.”

“That’s what I said.” You kept in stride with him. He pushed through doors, turning around quickly to make sure there was no threat. He led. You watched his six. “I told him to sleep on it. When I woke up he was gone.”

“You’re living together?” His voice showed no sign of emotion. He was asking as though you had never known each other. He was asking like you were a civilian and he was gathering all the useful information.

“Yes. He’s my boyfriend.” A beat in his step was missed but it was hardly noticeable. You pushed past him.

“And he didn’t feel the need to tell you he was leaving for Louisiana?”

“He knew I disagreed with him.”

“Sounds like someone else I knew.” The first allusion that you had ever once known each other. You walked in front of him as you crossed a bridge into the main yard.

“I listened.”

“In one ear and out the other,” he argued. He was detached from his words. You wanted to ask him why he had even come. Why hadn’t he investigated this before you called if he knew it was here? What was his angle?

“It always ruminated in my head for a bit.” You reached the yard. The house was vast and unfamiliar. It loomed in the nighttime air. There were lights on upstairs and some lamps in the main room. You approached the front door and attempted to open it. It didn’t budge. You hit it, kicked it, cursed at it.

“Move,” Chris demanded. He rammed his body against the door. You watched him, watched as he tensed his muscles through his tactical vest. The door remained intact but you didn't even notice after a minute. When were you going to allow yourself to admit that you missed him?

You looked through the window, cupping your hands around your eyes. You jumped at a face emerging from the other side.

“Y/N?”

“Ethan!” You put your palms against the glass. He was on the other side. The window was murky and cloudy but you knew his face well enough to recognize it through the blur. From the faint look, he was okay. He was alive. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m okay,” he said, weakly. It sounded like a lie. You narrowed your eyes but he couldn’t tell.

“I specifically told you not to come,” you said.

“It’s too late now.” “Did you find Mia?” He took a deep breath.

“Yeah. Listen, if you see her you have to be careful. All of the people here are normal one second and then they are something completely different.” You nodded.

“Can you get through the door?”

“No. I have to find three keys.”

“Fuck,” you muttered. “Spencer Mansion all over again.” You glanced at Chris. “Listen, I brought a friend out here. We’re gonna try and get in.” You tried the door again to no avail.

“I’m gonna try and find the keys,” Ethan said. You didn’t want him to go but realistically couldn’t have him stand there with you, not with the apparent threats roaming the house. You nodded.

“Please be careful.”

“You too.” He left then, hand lingering on the glass. You turned to Chris, embarrassed. His jaw was set. “I’m gonna clear the trailer.” You nodded once, watching him go.

Chris tried to convince himself he was happy for you. You had made a life for yourself. That’s exactly what he wanted you to do. He left you so that you would make a life he could never give you. Granted, he never expected to see the fruits of his sacrifice. The longer he was with you the more it became evident to him that his emotions never faded. It was like nothing had changed but everything had. You were the same but different. You caused him to want to smile even at dumb things, like attempting to open a door you knew was locked. You were in love with someone else. He had never seen you in love with someone else. He didn’t like the feeling of watching you with Ethan.

His sense of duty overrode his emotions but even that wasn’t enough to stop his lingering gazes.

You adjusted your vest in the trailer mirror. There was a head in the fridge and a gun on the counter. You were glad you had called Chris. He reloaded his gun as he watched you out of the corner of his eye.

“There can’t be much padding left in that,” he said gruffly.

“Hm?”

“The vest.” You looked down at it, like you hadn’t even noticed you were adjusting it. Your finger brushed his signature.

“It still does its job,” you promised. “Why, you got an extra?” He shook his head. You turned back towards him. “That’s what I thought. I’d rather have this than nothing at all.”

You kept the vest he had signed.

He kept the gun you had used.

How long could you dance around this stupid confession?

“I’m gonna try to break the window,” you said finally. “To the front house.”

“You don’t think they have bullet proof windows?”

“We’re in the middle of Dulvey.” You shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try.” Chris’s jaw set, nodding curtly. He followed you outside. He was weary of the ever growing black goop gathering outside. You tried to hit the window but nothing gave. You tried to hit it again, causing a more aggressive boom. “Shit. This gun was not made for this. Anything around I can use?” Chris started to look around his feet for something stronger. You moved along the deck.

Abruptly, there was a squelching sound coming from the middle of the yard, near the trailer. Both you and Chris raised your gun, instinct taking over before the thought process. You watched as the black goop grew into some sort of figure, barely able to stand on its own two feet. You tried to force yourself to act surprised but nothing came. It was life like it used to be.

Chris shot it first. It stumbled, just barely. You shot its head once and then twice. It came down only when the head was removed.

“You ok-” you started and was suddenly cut off when something moved behind you. You turned but it was too late. There was something on your shoulder, something wet and cold and big. You had figured because your back was to the house, you didn’t need to watch it. You heard the gunshots but didn’t see them. You breathed deeply as the blackness dissipated.

You stumbled backwards, hitting something else hard. You jumped, raising your gun, but Chris grabbed your wrist before you could even point it far.

“Hey, hey.”

It had been a minute since you were scared like that. You couldn't remember the last time your life was on the line. The shock must have shown in your eyes because Chris was holding your arms gently, looking at you with sympathy. “You’re okay,” he promised. You nodded. Your brain reverted back to where you knew that voice from and the comfort it brought. You cleared your throat, sitting up, swallowing hard.

“I’m fine,” you promised. “I’m fine.” You stood up, wobbling on your feet. He held your elbow. “I’m just a bit rusty.” He scoffed.

“Whatever you say.” He looked around. “They come out of the black mass. We watch that like it’s open space from now on,” he ordered. You nodded.

“Okay. Yeah.” You cleared your throat. The coldness was gone.

“What did I say?”

“Black mass is bad.”

“Good girl.” You cleared your throat, flushing. “Now if you ever want your boyfriend out of that house, we have to keep moving.” He adjusted your vest with worry and then walked away like nothing had happened. You followed him with your eyes.

You and Chris were outside debating if he could hoist you up onto the balcony of the second floor when the front door opened. You both looked down, eyes wide, as Ethan fell through the front door. He was clutching his side and a gun was in his hand.

You ran up to him, almost dropping your gun yourself.

“Oh God, Ethan? Ethan, are you okay?” He allowed himself to fall into your embrace, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You breathed evenly as you held him in your arms. You pulled away to see him, look him in the eyes. “What’s wrong? What’s hurt?” There was dried blood on his face. Was it his?

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” You pursed your lips, backing up. You looked him up and down and grabbed his hand.

“What is this? Are these staples? What is this?”

“I’m okay.” You gave him a bewildered look, mouth agape. His hand was held together by staples now.

“I told you not to come. I told you to wait for me.” If you thought he would live through you hitting him, you would. You were relieved he was okay but you were angry he had left without telling you, putting himself in danger. You had shared with him your stressors about past relationships and he had walked right into one of them.

“Who’s this?”

Speaking of past relationships.

You had almost forgotten Chris was there.

He stood behind you, eyes averted, chin up.

“Ethan, this is Chris Redfield. He was my partner when I worked at Stars and the BSAA.” Ethan knew the name and he knew the reaction he should have to it. He had driven you to do something you never wanted to do again. Ethan’s actions hadn’t manifested in you calling the man that had broken your heart. And you didn’t look like your heart was shattered.

“We need to leave,” Chris explained, not bothering with a hello. He was keenly aware of the situation you were all in.

“I still have to find Mia,” Ethan explained.

“Did she do that to your hand?” you questioned.

“There’s something wrong with her. I know where the anecdote is, if I can find that and find her then we can all leave.”

“She’s a lost cause,” Chris explained. “There’s no use in looking for her now. The BSAA is currently narrowing explosives on this area and we need to be gone before the sun comes up if we don't want to get caught up in his destruction.”

“I’m not going to leave her here,” Ethan argued. “The family here are infected by something. I think it has to do with the child she was watching before she went missing. I’ve found some infor-”

“In this line of work, we shoot first and ask questions later. I don’t expect you to know that Ethan but we need to leave,” Chris said, cutting him off. Ethan’s face hardened. You could tell the change in his demeanor as he moved his shoulders back, eyes going dark. You had no way of telling what he had gone through in that house and you had a feeling it was going to take a while to get it all out of him.

“Do you agree with him?” Ethan asked, looking at you.

“Don’t put me in the mi-”

“You’re in the middle. I’m putting you there,” Ethan said. “Do you think we should leave her and this entire family to just die?” You looked at him with soft eyes. This was one of the hard decisions you and Chris had to make everyday. You missed the naiveness of his viewpoint immensely. You thought you were working back towards it but it seemed the hard work never let you be.

“I won’t risk your life for hers.”

“I’m not asking you to risk my life.”

“Will you risk mine?” Ethan shook his head in disbelief.

“We’re losing time being out here,” he said. “I’m going to the old house and looking for that cure. Come with me or don’t, I don’t care.”

“You don’t mean that,” you said, reaching to grab him before he left but he brushed you off. You looked at Chris with pleading eyes, eyes he knew well. “We can’t possibly leave civilians here and nuke the place Redfield.”

“It’s their choice to leave.”

“Mia doesn’t have a choice,” Ethan called. He was already walking away. Incredibly conflicted, you stared at Chris, hoping for some guidance. He had never been the one to give guidance in your relationship.

“Chris.”

He had only ever turned you down once in his life. The look in your eyes could make him weak in his knees anyday. You could get him to toss himself off a building with that look. His jaw hardened.

You could die without him.

You could die with him, he thought. When had he ever been able to save others before?

“Chris,” you pleaded.

“We have four hours till sunrise. You and I will be gone by then.” You nodded curtly. He approached you before you could walk away. “But you’re not going to run around in that vest,” he muttered. He unbuckled the one he was wearing, untightening it as he lifted it over his head. Your eyes softened. He was still trying to protect you. Maybe he had been trying to protect you all along.

“Chris I won’t let you-”

“I’m stronger than you.” You smirked, looking up at him. He had a smug look in his eyes.

“I don’t remember you being forceful.”

“I never had to be. You were always a willing participant,” his voice was soft but disregarding. You glanced at Ethan who you could barely see in the shrubbery as he walked away. He took off your vest and placed it on the ground as he put his own over your head. “You need it more than me.”

“I’m just a little rusty.”

“I can’t risk a little rusty.” He tightened it around your waist, the same way he would help you mid mission before. It was warm. Was it humid out here or was it just the way his fingers brushed your skin?

“Thank you,” you breathed. He nodded. He put your old one over his head. He had left all the things in his tactical vest. “You want any of these?”

“I could do with a knife what you can do with a bomb.” You raised an eyebrow.

“You better watch out Redfield. I might show you up even with the rust.”

“I’d like to see you try.” You wrapped your hands around the straps and leaned back, tilting your head.

“I missed you.” He tried not to show any emotion but the words seemed so magical he couldn’t help it. He took a deep breath.

“You know I did it to protect you right?”

“I know now,” you said quietly.

“You have a life.”

“I have a life,” you repeated. It was like you were trying to convince yourself of it more than him. You looked at Ethan. In the moment nothing seemed more appealing than leaving with Chris and being safe somewhere other than here. You knew what you had to do regardless. “You know, in another life, I wouldn’t have minded dying in your arms,” you said quietly. He had that sad look in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have lived through it,” he admitted. You gestured with your head.

“Yes you would’ve. Come on. We have things to do.”

Part 2

#chris redfield x reader #chris redfield imagines #chris redfield x fem!reader #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters x fem!reader #ethan winters x reader x chris redfield #chris redfield x fem!reader x ethan winters #resident evil imagines #resident evil fanfiction

284 notes · View notes

perplexedflower · 3 years ago

Text

Something Familiar

Fandom: Resident Evil.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Chris Redfield x Female Reader.

Type: One shot.

Words: 5,126.

Summary: Blurry memories, a somewhat familiar environment… As [Y/N] finds herself waking up one morning in a bedroom that is not hers, all her questions are soon answered as she reunites with Chris after what has seemed like an eternity.

Chronology: Post-Resident Evil 8.

~~~~~~~~~~

Feeling as though I was waking up from a deep slumber, I opened my eyes slowly, and immediately found myself surrounded by a familiar smell; not too soft, but not too strong at the same time. It did not take me long to realize I was lying on a bed, although, not in my bedroom, therefore deducing I was not at home. I looked around and down at my body, only to find it buried underneath the sheets of a large double bed, reigning in a large bedroom, entirely illuminated by sunlight shining through a window to my left which forced my eyes to open wider as I felt the rays warm the skin of my face.

After having truly awakened, I made an effort to move to the other side of the bed, next to which the nightstand was; however, the slightest movement of my body made me quickly realize how physically weak I was, as pain instantly flowed through my muscles. Once I had rolled over to my right, I turned my head to the clock resting on the nightstand and saw it was midday, around noon. Next to it, on one corner of the bedside table, I also noticed some pills and what seemed to be medication, though I had no idea what they were for, or who they were for; in fact, I had no idea what I was doing in this bedroom whatsoever.

I closed my eyes firmly as I took a deep breath in to try and remember my latest memories, but no matter how deep I dug, I had no clear recollection of what the past few days had been like for me.

Brushing my worries away, my attention was once more drawn toward the scent, the tender and affectionate smell that was emanating from the bedsheets and enveloping me whole. Rising into a sitting position ever so slowly, I pushed the sheets aside and got out of bed: but as I set foot on the cold floor, my legs immediately bent under my weight, as if having not carried me for a long time. I managed to steady myself by holding onto the side of the nightstand, stopping my body from falling back on the bed, and as I took more and more steps, started to regain balance.

By the time I had stabilized myself, I was out of the bedroom and into a short hallway; walking through it quietly, I was then faced with a flight of stairs that took me almost directly into a kitchen, neatly cleaned and ordered. Once there, a rather small piece of paper set on the counter caught my attention before I could really take in anything else in the room. Picking it up curiously, I first read my name on it and understood it was a memo addressed to me.

"Thursday, March 10.

If today is the day you wake up, you'll find some cereals and loaves of bread in the left-side cupboard in case you want to make yourself breakfast. If you're rather looking for a dish for lunch, you'll find some chicken and leftovers of stir-fried vegetables in the fridge. I cooked them yesterday so don't worry, they're still good to eat. I can only imagine how hungry you'll be after waking up, so don't hesitate to grab whatever food you want. However, please wait for my return if you want to cook something intricate, you won't be fully recovered and I don't want you to harm yourself or push yourself too hard until I come back.

Lastly, if you're looking to change into other clothes, you'll find a good portion of your wardrobe in the closet of my bedroom, on the right-side shelves."

No signature had been left at the end of the memo, but I did not need one to recognize it was written in Chris' handwriting.

Chris...

I held my breath, along with the piece of paper in my hands as I started thinking of him; a part of me felt taken aback, as if I had forgotten about him before and was only now remembering him. However, it felt to me like something was not quite right. I tried my best to remember what led me to end up in what evidently seemed to be his house, in addition to why it was empty, but no clear answer came to my mind. Instead, I focused on scanning the kitchen briefly, until spotting a bin, somewhat transparent and open, revealing its content to me.

Right away, I noticed from afar what appeared to be crumbled pieces of paper, and my suspicions were verified when I approached it: I grabbed the first one on top of the pile, unfolded it, and read it out loud. It bared the date from the day before, the 9th of March, and followed the same pattern as the up-to-date memo I had read barely a few minutes before. And still, it was in Chris' handwriting. I set it aside to pick up a few others, only to see they repeated themselves, with only the types of food available changing from one to another. Reading these notes, I felt something shake deep within my core, moving me, triggering something in me, without knowing what it was exactly.

Determined to find answers to my never-ending questions, I threw all the crumbled notes back in the bin, before deciding to wander around the house in hopes of finding even the slightest of things that would help my memory tick. Letting my hand drift on the walls gently, I progressed through each room, and soon felt some pieces of the puzzle starting to connect in my mind: this was indeed Chris' house, and I could recall that I had been there before, countless times. And although I was still unable to justify my presence there, or even why Chris himself was not home, I kept on venturing from room to room.

I eventually found the bathroom and stepped inside, walking towards the sink: looking at myself in the mirror, I found my face to be pale and frail, expressing fatigue. Only then did I notice I was only wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts, both from my personal wardrobe.

I deserve a proper change of clothes... and a shower. Feels like I haven't taken one in over a century.

Giving my face one last look in the mirror, I took my clothes off, set them aside, and stepped into the shower. Turning the water on, its contact with my skin instantly soothed me, easing me into a warm and cozy sensation. I allowed myself to spend as much time as I needed inside the shower, letting the hot water cleanse me, feeling it slowly trickle along my body. After having enjoyed the water's heat for long enough, I grabbed what I assumed could only have been a bottle of Chris' shampoo I had spotted nearby earlier, as well as a bottle of shower gel, confident that he would not mind me using them. Opening the cap of the shampoo bottle, I was instantly surrounded by yet another familiar smell, once again, like one of the bedsheets. The scent wrapped me completely, in a feeling of warmth and comfort; holding the bottle tight with my fingers, I let my mind roam deep into thoughts as I washed my hair and body.

After having spent quite some time washing, I stepped out of the shower and stared at myself once more: this time, I found that I looked considerably better, and, surely, less tired-looking. Wrapping myself in a towel, I threw my clothes in the dirty laundry basket and waited to have dried a bit before heading back to the bedroom, in search of the clothes Chris' memo had told me about. While waiting and as I made my way upstairs slowly, I could not help but think deeper about him, my mind still swirling with questions and interrogations.

Once in the bedroom, though, my concerns vanished, replaced with my longing to open the closet in which I would find new, clean clothes to change into; and, indeed, I opened the doors to find some, if not a considerate amount of my clothes, as rightfully indicated by Chris' note. A smile formed on my face and I felt a touch of blush appear on my cheeks as I wondered if he had personally chosen the clothes stored here himself, noticing they were mainly the ones I wore most often, as well as some of my personal favorites. I started taking some of my clothes off the shelves, wondering what to wear, depending on what would be most comfortable, as it was my top priority.

I feel like wearing these pants, but with this sweater, I might be too ho—

All of a sudden, I heard the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs, abruptly interrupting my thoughts; it was quickly followed by a couple of slow and heavy footsteps. A moment of silence ensued, then the sound of paper bags dropping on the floor tiles was immediately followed by the loud echo of yet another set of footsteps, this time, rapidly climbing up the staircase leading to the bedroom.

In the blink of an eye, the footsteps stopped and I was faced with Chris, barging out the bedroom door I had left unclosed, eyes wide open and exhaling from his mouth. We looked at one another in silence, staring into each other's eyes, and an indescribable feeling started filling me up.

"[Y/N]..." He whispered in a voice expressing shock and surprise, but a deep sense of relief as well.

I felt as though time had stopped, my breath held sharp, my eyes lost in Chris', until he took a step in my direction; I instinctively backed away, holding my towel close to my body, with visible hints of red spread all over my face. He suddenly stopped himself in his tracks and a thin layer of blush appeared on his cheeks as he cleared his throat and turned around to exit the room, both executed with embarrassment, before closing the door behind him.

Another silence reigned, this time heavy and tense. But barely a few seconds after the door had closed, I heard the sound of something hitting it lightly on the other side.

"Of course you'd wake up when I'm not home..."

Judging by how close his voice sounded, I guessed the sound I had heard was of his head resting against the door; feeling myself blush harder by what had just happened, I released the pressure of my hands on my towel, reassured Chris was not in the room anymore to see me in such a way.

"When did you wake up?"

"About half an hour ago."

I heard him exhale in relief from the other side of the door as I took in the composition of the bedroom; only then did I actually take a look around it, making my way slowly through the room.

"And how are you feeling?" Chris asked.

I walked to the other side of the bed and observed the ashtray set on the other nightstand.

"I've seen better days, but I'm fine."

Another sigh of relief.

"I see you've already taken a shower..." He started, his voice expressing light awkwardness. "That's good, I'm sure it must have felt refreshing."

I smiled a little as I gave him a nod he could not see. He cleared his throat again, the slightly lower volume of his voice making me understand he was backing away from the door.

"Well, I'll let you finish dressing up, in the meantime I'll go into the kitchen to clean the groceries I left on the floor. Join me downstairs once you're done."

"All right."

I looked down at my hands and played around with my fingers, listening to the sound of his footsteps as his words echoed through my mind; it had been way too long since I had last heard the sound of his voice, and it made a part of me feel warm and fuzzy. Quickly, I went back to the closet to slip into a pair of stretchy jeans and a t-shirt, trying my best to set my thoughts aside. But as I was about to close it back, my eyes fell on some of Chris' clothes, and, almost instinctively, I followed the voice inside of me telling me to pick one of his shirts up; slowly, I brought one of his turtlenecks up to my face, holding the fabric delicately, and taking in the scent emanating from it. Sudden sounds of rustling in the kitchen brought me back to my senses and I promptly put the shirt back on the shelf, my cheeks covered with red.

I briskly made my way down the stairs and entered the kitchen to find Chris putting food inside his shelves and fridge; he turned around to look at me and sighed once more, as if he was looking at the ghost of someone he had long lost hope of seeing again. I smiled at him and the second I did so, I saw his eyes shine brightly with a radiant spark. He gave me a slightly awkward smile back, before going back to store his groceries away.

I watched him go back and forth between his bags and his shelves, neither of us saying a word; it was as if everything was normal, the way it was supposed to be. But something was still off for me.

"Chris... can you fill me in as to what the hell's happening?" I started, placing an elbow on the counter. "You don't seem as confused as me, but I'd like to know why I woke up in your bed this morning, and why I feel so... strange."

His arm stopped midway into motion, hanging in the air for a few seconds, and he turned around with furrowed eyebrows.

"You don't remember what happened?"

"What happened when? My memory is really blurry, I've got no idea why, but it seems like I've been missing a part of my life recently."

Looking at me with concerned eyes, Chris slowly put a hand on the counter.

"[Y/N], you were practically sleeping for a week straight."

Like a kick to the guts, I was left stunned, keeping my mouth open for a few seconds, but falling speechless.

"... What?"

He gulped, visibly troubled, before finally setting down the pack of drinks he was holding, turning all his attention to me.

"About a week ago, you, me, and the rest of the squad were on a mission over on the other side of the country. Long story short, it was exhausting and required us to stay alert for a long while. You above all the others invested too much of yourself into it... and we later found out you'd deprived yourself of sleep for multiple nights in a row, just to keep your guard up. Not only that, but you weren't taking proper care of your diet either. We eventually decided to launch an attack plan, and you went into it with a weakened physical condition."

Chris marked a break in his story, looking down with what felt to me was remorse.

"You ended up getting hit. It wasn't anything serious, but it was enough to knock you unconscious. The second I saw you fall, I came to pick you up and gave you to Canine to watch over you until we'd be outta there. After we were done, we took off and brought you to a medic, who told us you had nothing severe, not enough to put you in a hospital, at least, but that you needed rest. He'd actually said we should expect to see you sleep for days on straight..."

He scoffed under his breath while slowly shaking his head, which was still lowered.

"Hell, even I didn't know it was possible to sleep for that long."

I looked into his eyes as I registered one by one each piece of information he had given me.

"And you brought me to your house."

Chris raised his head and looked back into my eyes with a sincere expression.

"I brought you here, so that I could keep an eye on you and treat you. I told the squad we'd set aside every mission we had planned until you'd wake up and fully recover, so I've been spending all my days at home since, set aside the occasional grocery shopping."

I felt the very core of my soul heat up as I smiled shyly.

"Thank you, Chris. For everything." I said warmly.

He looked down, seeming pensive, before turning back to unpack his last remaining groceries.

"Don't thank me yet. I haven't had the chance to lecture you properly about your behavior during the mission, and don't think you'll escape from it."

He's still the same old Chris. I thought while failing to suppress a gentle scoff. Nothing has really changed in the span of a week.

"You've got yourself injured and that's nothing to take lightly, [Y/N]." He continued with the same serious tone. "And speaking of which..."

Leaving his sentence unfinished, he closed the cupboards as he stored away his last supplies; he walked to me and put a gentle hand on my back, escorting me out of the kitchen to take me into the living room instead.

"Sit down." He ordered me, though not too roughly as he pointed to the couch in front of us.

"What for?"

"I have to inspect you to see if you're fine." He answered, already on his way to the couch.

I let a chuckle escape from my lips as I complied, too amused by the situation to disobey. He sat down beside me and I suddenly felt my smile disappear, replaced by shyness, feeling him so close to me on this couch, occupied mostly by blankets and pillows, leaving the both of us little room to sit, and forcing us to squeeze next to each other. He started grabbing my arms and inspecting me, holding my chin to make my head turn left and right.

"How have you been feeling since you've been awake? Any vertigo, any pain?"

"Chris, I'm fine." I said with a smile.

I tried making him understand it was pointless, that nothing was wrong with me, but he kept on inspecting me nonetheless, searching for any issue.

"Chris..."

"You were hit on the head, [Y/N], I can't overlook that."

Bringing his face close to mine, he grabbed the back of my head to examine it, feeling the surface of my skin with his palm to try and spot any abnormalities.

"Chris!"

He stopped moving, his face inches from me, his eyes locked on mine.

"I'm fine, really." I told him with sincerity.

I smiled from one corner of my mouth as I looked down at him quickly, before bringing my eyes back on his face.

"I'm just hungry."

He stared at me for a few seconds with a soft expression before backing away with a sigh.

"All right. It's time for lunch anyway."

Chris finally got off me and stood up from the couch, heading back to the kitchen, leaving me to smile at myself as I felt butterflies dancing in my stomach. This feeling reminded me of how much I had missed him during these seven days I had spent sleeping, how I was happy to fill this gap now that he was with me again; or, more so, that I was with him.

Getting up from the couch as well, I joined him in the kitchen, lured in by the sound of pots and pans. Seeing me beside him, Chris turned his head to me and looked into my eyes, his cheeks sprinkled with blush.

"Wanna cook with me?"

"Sure." I answered enthusiastically. "I'm not gonna let you prepare lunch all by yourself, after all."

"All right, but there are certain things I'm not gonna let you do, I don't want you to exhaust yourself too much." He replied, ever so seriously.

His concern once again made me laugh, given it was clearly unnecessary. I proved him wrong and showed him I was in good shape by helping him make lunch, fetching him ingredients and carefully making the dishes, though he made it clear he wanted me to stay away from any knife or sharp utensils, fearing I would hurt myself. Throughout our cooking session, I felt his attitude and behavior soften, seeing him let his guard down as he allowed his inner self to relax and enjoy this time with me.

I knew better than anyone that Chris needed to be eased into a sense of comfort and intimacy to make him drop his cold exteriors and reveal his true face; my light temporary amnesia had taken away parts of my memories, including some I had shared with him, but it did not take me long to recover them, little by little, as I laughed and joked with him in his kitchen. Once we had finished making lunch, we sat down in front of the counter to eat, facing each other.

Just as I was about to take my first bite, my mouth let a deep yawn out; as soon as I opened my eyes back, I laughed seeing Chris look at me with an unbelievable expression.

"I know what you're gonna say..."

He shook his head as he started digging his fork and knife into his meat.

"Seven days wasn't enough for you?"

"Apparently not." I said with a chuckle.

He brought his food to his mouth and I mirrored his movements; the second my palate tasted the dish I had cooked with him, I felt my body react as if it was only now waking up truly, suddenly regaining strength. Only then, as I filled up my stomach more and more with each bite did I realize how much I had craved food, and how my body had missed it during these seven days of slumber.

"I don't know if it's just me because I haven't eaten anything in a week, but this tastes delicious." I told Chris with my mouth full in-between two bites.

"No, it's not just you." He said with a chuckle. "It really is good, I'll admit we did a great job."

But his smile soon faded away to be replaced with a pensive expression instead.

"Seven days, though..." He started, shaking his head slowly while bringing his fork up to his lips. "There's no way you actually spent every one of your days here sleeping... Do you remember anything? Maybe you opened your eyes every now and then before dozing off again?"

I swallowed the bite I had in my mouth before shrugging quickly.

"I don't know... I think I do remember some vague moments when I woke up in your bed, but they never lasted long, and nothing much happened."

I took another bite as I looked up at Chris with curious eyes.

"By the way, where have... you been sleeping all this time?"

A part of me had already theorized a potential answer to that question, but instantly dismissed it away, thinking it was too crazy to even take into consideration.

"On the couch in the living room." He replied casually.

"Chris!" I let out with an exaggerated yet light gasp as I put my fork down. "The couch? You wanna lecture me about my sleeping habits when you're spending your nights on the couch?"

I saw his expression shift into a more serious one as he slowly stopped eating too.

"Don't start."

I was obviously joking around, purposefully making a big deal out of something which was not important, toying with him just a little.

"I know you've got sleeping problems, Chris, and spending seven nights on a couch is not gonna make things better. Why didn't you take the bed?"

"Because you matter more!" Chris suddenly exclaimed as he slammed his fist on the counter, making me jump in surprise. "You were the one who needed a proper bed, it didn't matter where I'd sleep, as long as you were safe... Goddammit, [Y/N], I was worried sick about you."

He did not shout, but his voice was loud enough to make me hold my breath. I looked down, not knowing what to reply, before grabbing my plate by the edge and standing up from my chair.

"I'll go warm up my plate in the microwave, it's gone cold." I spoke in a very low tone.

But as soon as my feet touched the ground, I limped and lost balance, barely managing to put my plate back down on the counter before almost letting it fall and break.

"Shit—"

Chris immediately stood up from his chair and hurried toward me to grab me, holding me tight by the arms and waist, making sure I was stable and would not fall.

"It's ok— I got you—"

The tone in his voice had softened dramatically as his first instinct was to reassure me. And it worked just as intended: the second I heard his words of comfort, I felt warm and secure, draped in a blanket of tenderness. He led me to the couch and helped me stabilize myself with each step I took, all while holding me close. His hands against my skin, strong but delicate sent shivers down my spine, and somehow made my limbs even weaker.

"Are you all right?"

"Y-Yeah, don't worry." I managed to articulate. "I think it's just my body reacting to receiving food after such a long time without it... I may have eaten more than my stomach can hold."

Chris held his gaze on me with a concerned expression.

"... Are you sure it's not because you were too active when making lunch?"

Before leaving me time to consider this factor, he bit his lower lip lightly and diverted his eyes from mine.

"God, I knew it was a bad idea..."

I placed a shy hand on his torso, which made him turn back to me; I smiled at him warmly, making him understand without a single word that he needed not to feel guilty, and he replied with saddened eyes and a small nod. Having reached the couch, he set me down gently, and we sat similarly to before, only this time I did not push him away: as he held me, I let myself lean against him, until being entirely wrapped in his arms. I heard him take a deep breath in as I rested my head on his chest, calming down to the sound of his speeding heartbeat.

"I've missed you." I spoke up in a warm and emotional voice.

I felt Chris tighten his hold on me just a little as I talked.

"I'm sorry I exploded at you." He said, almost in a whisper.

"No, it's fine. It's my fault for joking around at such an inappropriate time. I can't imagine how much stress you've been under because of me over the past week."

Another silence reigned, during which the two of us cherished that special moment.

"I've missed you too."

He gently stroked the top of my head while I heard him inhale deeply once again.

"And I want you to know that I worry about you, [Y/N], because I love you."

I could not help but hold tighter onto his shirt, feeling my breath sharpen.

"It... may not be anything new to you... I've been told by a few of the guys I'm kinda obvious..." He spoke shyly, clearly embarrassed.

Nevertheless, despite his awkwardness, he kept on keeping me close to him with a love that expressed confidence.

"But, frankly, I never cared much whether you noticed or not, all I ever wanted you to know was that I'd be here for you, by your side and keeping you safe no matter what."

As much as my heart was melting, as much as I wanted to bury myself deeper into his chest, I gathered the strength to pull away and look up at him. His eyes met mine in a moment of weakness, before I felt a blush forming on my cheeks and promptly looked away.

"You know, I never noticed..." I confessed. "Not once did I consider you could feel attraction for me, it felt... surreal, to me."

I looked up into his eyes again to find a loving warmth in them.

"Because... I love you too, and my mind was unable to convince itself that you'd ever reciprocate my feelings..."

As I lowered my eyes back down, Chris raised my chin up with two of his fingers, an ounce of a smile on his face.

"Well, your mind was wrong."

I smiled shyly, feeling his contagious grin spreading to me. My chin still held by his thumb and index, it however progressively vanished, an intense expression of passion taking shape on his face instead. In silence, he moved his hand to my cheek, caressing the surface of my skin delicately with his thumb. He leaned his face closer to mine and grasped the side of my waist as our lips touched, embracing each other lovingly.

I was instantly filled with warmth and tenderness, although the kiss itself was quite rough, Chris' beard scratching my skin; his lips, slightly rugged, hugged mine perfectly as if they had only been made for each other. We barely had time to pull away from our first kiss that we both asked for more, his hand bringing my face close to his again. With each kiss, I felt my soul lift up, and my body liquefy further with each touch Chris gave me.

Once we both pulled away, I snuggled against his chest once more, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

"I can't believe this is real..." I said, my voice muffled.

He chuckled in an incredibly endearing way as he lay more comfortably on the couch, allowing me to stretch myself further against him.

"You sure I'm not sleeping anymore?"

Chris lifted my head with both of his hands, holding the sides of my face tenderly.

"You're not." He said with a smile.

His eyes sparkled with a burning love I could not help but feel too, in the very core of my being.

"But even if you were, I'd make sure to give it all to you again once you'd wake up."

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