#captain BSAA

[superiordna]

chris r//edfield thoughts today like

i still can't believe they forced (not "let", they ambushed and directly said they would be taking him by any means necessary) a man with severe enough brain trauma that he couldn't even remember what a BIOWEAPON WAS (something he's faced since 1998!!!) straight back into heavy combat.

if bsaa had any oversight at all and didn't operate lawlessly, that would have been a crime. they willfully put a man who was not fit for combat into a warzone, and worse, put him in charge of the lives of others, banking on the muscle memory of a broken soldier to "get the mission done" because that's always priority, no matter the fodder that's lost along the way

he'd already given everything toward the fight against bioterrorism at that point, his youth, his relationships, his brain health, it was earnestly fucked that bsaa suggested he was throwing it all way by... checks notes..... suffering debilitating head trauma.....

[noonegetsleftbehind]

Learn From My Fail: Did recon in a BOW infested area. Unwittingly peed on a Lycan's *favorite* tree. Being pursued.

"..... This is why I'm a captain. To stop you all from pissing on Lycans' favorite trees in the middle of a BOW infested area. I hope you run fast..."

[biosurvive]

tag dump

[cuckette]

STRICTLY BUSINESS !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. a lot of misogyny, sexual harassment, p in v, leon is a creep omg, dubious consent but she agrees ultimately 😭

note. HAII can’t bother to change my dividers despite the theme change .. not edited so please ignore mistakes! og re4 leon btw .. no other leon.. :3 honestly I will probably write a longer fic like this bc.. I didn’t make it fleshed out enough 😭 rbs and feedback so appreciated :3

tumblr has started to remove fics that for example use tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

Tuesday October 21st, 2004

“You’re kidding me, what a treat,” Leon Special Agent Kennedy still gets frisked when he steps foot into the BSAA headquarters. He’s done more for America than Washington ever did, and that guy’s on the dollar bill. You’d think that after rumours spread of you being bent over in the Oval Office, being the main suspect in a presidential affair, they’d give you more credit. “This is my favourite part.” He says, straight-faced.

“Kennedy,” Redfield’s smile is seething, more constipated than it is friendly, like the mere sight of Leon brings him immense pain. “Hands against the wall.”

“You want me to bend over too?” He asks, very seriously, because Leon is a good boy and he’ll do as he’s told. “I can bend over.”

“Think you’ve done enough of that.” Chris sees Leon as an invasive species of sorts. A snail that gets into the cabbage patch.

“You’re no fun.”

Chris calls out a name he hasn’t heard before, small hands land on his waist. It can’t be Redfield ‘cause his palms easily dwarf Leon’s waist, could wrap around it if they stretched far enough. He glances over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of whoever has the honour of feeling him up.

“Eyes forward,” A less bullish voice commands, “Um, please, sir.” This is a girl, not a woman, but a girl. Women are his favourite, but he can make do with a girl if she’s cute enough.

“Must be my lucky day,” Leon hums in delight as you pat him down, “Oooh, are we doing a cavity search?”

“Well…” You pause, hands lingering over his calf, “I’m not really sure.”

“No.” Redfield grunts in his primitive way.

“No, no cavity search,” You confirm, “I’m… sorry.” You tell him, and you really should be, Leon loves having his cavity searched. Oral, anal, if he had a vaginal cavity he’s sure he would have fun with that too.

“You can go lower, sweetheart,” Leon bites his tongue when you ghost over his belt loops, “Grab my balls while you’re at it, I don’t mind.”

“Knock it off, Kennedy.” His first real warning, ‘cause Chris speaks in his Captain voice not in ape sounds.

“I’m kidding, you can take it easy, big guy.” His mind wanders as you touch him up, getting to his chest in which you find a flask tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket, it’s confiscated promptly.

“Are you stupid?” Hunnigan asks, as his handler or glorified babysitter, she must accompany him to every teensy, little task. Her question is rhetorical, obviously.

“She’s just so sweet to me, I call her Honeygan.” Leon tells no one in particular.

“No you do not, Leon.” She says, cerebral and unfrisked, which begs the question of why only he gets borderline harassed on BSAA grounds. Not that he’s complaining.

“Hi there, cutie,” He doesn’t smile often for ladies, they like the whole brooding thing he’s got going on, but he really can’t hold it back. All teeth and everything. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here? Did you get lost, need help finding your mommy?”

“Kennedy,” Second warning, it goes unheard, or unprocessed, or rather Leon does not give a single shit.

“How old are you, sweetheart?” He puts his hands on his knees, like he’s crouched down talking to a toddler. “You look like a baby.”

“Twenty-one, sir.” Of course you are, lamb-faced and bright-eyed. That’s far too little. Then again, old enough to drink, old enough to suck dick. If a girl can knock back a shot, she’s likely to swallow - not spit.

“Oh, and do your Skechers light up, sweetheart?” You should be at home, burping a Baby Alive doll, pottering around an all-pink, plastic kitchenette. Doing things that girls do.

“What…?” You glance over at Chris cluelessly.

With this, he’s guided very forcefully by the scruff of his neck, his popped collar, to where the meeting is taking place. Chambers is there, and she’s grown within the last few years. She stretches back in her seat, her tiny tits jut out when her back bows. She hasn’t grown in that sense. You stand guard at the door in tactical gear, it’s like putting a spiked collar on a puppy and passing it off as a guard dog. He’d once thought of the BSAA to be pragmatic, they talk rationally while STRATCOM talk a lot of fancy shit in their Italian wool suits, but to put a young girl in charge of such a strenuous task? Leon takes it all back. They’re a bunch of brutes, hunched over sucking the meat from animal bones, girl bones even.

“Focus.” Valentine, bold and busty, sits beside him “She’s twenty-one.” Back off, is what she means. They’ve had brief encounters, but she’s a woman of few words, her sneer keeps him away as it does most men. She could use some dick.

Leon is well aware of your age considering you told him an hour or so prior. Like he said before, he likes women, not girls, but you’re certainly cute enough. “I know, too young.”

“She’s capable,” Jill shrugs, “Real brave kid,” This is the problem, it’s not bravery, it’s stupidity and Leon of all people knows the difference. Jill stands up when the meeting comes to its end, she’s the first to leave, pats your head on the way out.

The room clears out, you stand still and upright as he approaches. “After you, sir.”

“That’s not how it works,” Leon chides, “Ladies first, sweetheart.”

“After you, sir, I insist,” You’re getting impatient, antsy, “And please don’t call me that.”

“What would you prefer? Babe, baby, honey, babycakes, sweetpea,” All the classics, “Sugartits?”

“With all due respect, sir, fuck you.” You look at him with such discontent it makes him hard.

“Girls shouldn’t talk like that.” Leon stumbles slightly as you barge past him and exit. He finds it funny, he cracks another smile, shame no one’s here to see it, it’s quite beautiful really. His eyes follow the movement of your hips, the swell of your ass that’s hidden beneath those bulky cargos as you stomp off into the distance.

Monday November 1st, 2004

It sits on your desk like a harbinger of doom. A threat that signifies the end of the world, which is everyday in your field. This is the end of your life. No one else’s. This ostentatious display of affection is where it all starts.

“Nice flowers,” Piers comments, and it’s a totally innocent remark, because initially you had thought the exact same thing. How thoughtful, right? Flowers, tons of them, in all shades. You’re not a flowers kinda girl, but you’re not rude, you appreciate the gesture. That’s just how you’ve been raised, the vase mom bought you hasn’t been put to good use either.

You made the mistake of reading the card attached. In barely legible handwriting, all the swoops and loops throw you off, is that an E or a 3, it’s scrawled in leaky black ink that smears easily, crumpled it up the moment you saw who signed it off.

From his cokewhore nose to his insoles, you have no intentions of liaising with Agent Kennedy, much less going on a date with him. He might be charming from afar, but the moment he opens his mouth— oh, how you wish you could sever his tongue and put it in a jar. Might even go the extra mile to pickle it and feed it to him.

The note gets tossed in the trash, you attempt to dispose of the flowers the same way, stuffing them down into the bin beneath your desk. An incinerator would be preferred, but this will do for now. You’re shaking as you rid of them, rolling back your shoulders to relax, you can’t get him off of you. The scent of his biting cologne is in the back of your throat. It stings. He hasn’t done anything as of now, there’s just something about Leon that makes you uneasy.

Thursday November 4th, 2004

Stupid girl. You’re a stupid girl for thinking it was ever over, men like him persist until they wear you down, grind your bones into dust. Today it’s a box of decadent chocolates, you have to admit, they look good. Wasting food makes your gut ache with guilt so you place them on a table in the staff room.

“That’s not very nice, Godiva’s expensive.” Tight-lipped and repulsive, Agent Kennedy stands in the doorway. Why he’s here? You have no clue.

“Sir,” You fix your posture reflexively, “I appreciate it, I’m just not… a fan.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart.” Leon cocks his head to the side, the lack of mirth in his tone is chilling. “I waited for you on Monday.”

“I never accepted, sir.” You tell him, “I’m flattered, but I didn’t have time.” And you never will have time for a man like him.

“You didn’t show, I looked like an idiot, that sweater makes you look kinda big by the way,” He says breezily, slips it in seamlessly with his complaint.

You don’t register it, blinking at him dumbly. “I hardly think this is appropriate.”

“Sweetheart,” Leon cups your cheeks, his fingertips are icy on your burning skin, “I don’t go on a lot of dates, so you should count yourself lucky.”

“Sir, what're you doing here?” You question, trying so badly to bypass the system failure that’s taking place in your frazzled brain.

“I have some business, but that’s none of your business is it, cutie?” He taps your nose, “I think you’re too little to get it anyway. Y’know, you take orders well, I thought you’d be a good girl.”

“I’m not a dog,” You scowl.

“Smile, sweetheart, shouldn’t pull faces like that.” Leon pats your cheek, then he turns on his heels and leaves as quickly as he came.

Friday November 5th, 2004

Agent Kennedy is on the premises again, this leads to you ducking into doorways, turning sharp corners into endless corridors— Anything to escape his gaze unscathed. Unfortunately, running has never been your strong suit, it requires some agility, you’re a no-nonsense kind of girl, face the issue head on with your bare hands. You’re capable. So capable. You’re strong, and you have a gun. When your fists fail you, your gun sits cold on your hip. Not that shooting Leon S. Kennedy would ever be a good look in someone’s dossier, but it provides you with some relief.

“There you are,” Quiet, he emerges from the shadows like he materialised right then and there, Agent Kennedy is stealthy, you suppose, “I missed you,” He’s hot on your heels, the bitterness of his scent begins to cloud your mind, “You look good from back here, should wear a skirt more often.”

Don’t speak. Don’t speak. Don’t speak. As much as you’d love to give him a piece of your mind, you fear he’d take it in stride, entertained by your outburst. Leon feeds on attention. He follows you for the entirety of your journey to the ladies room. “Sweetheart, speak to me.”

You’re a fool for thinking he has the decency to wait outside, let you do your business, and then once you return he can begin sweet-talking in your ear once more. Of course, Leon shoulders the door when it shuts on him, he jams his leg in the cubicle door when you try to lock him out. Too slow.

“Did you want to watch me piss, sir?” You ask, putting on your bravest face, as if your heart isn’t about to fall out of your ass and land on the floor with a wet smack. He scares you more than any virus-addled nutcase ever has.

“No,” Leon frowns, and it’s the first time he hasn’t had a witty remark, “Do you think I want to see that shit?” Oh, that offended him.

“I’m sorry for assuming, sir, but it’s just that you are,” You make a mild gesture at the toilet, “In the women’s restroom.”

“I know,” He’s still frowning, and you don’t like it. “I need something from you, babe.” Babe. Holy Mother of God, that’s worse than sweetheart, it sounds infinitely more sleazy.

“What can I do for you, sir? You got a kink?” Once more, you point to the toilet, the scumbag bites the inside of his cheek. His tongue wets his bottom lip as he hunkers down to press his pointy nose to yours. You hear him sniff around in the crook of your neck, like he’s chasing white lines without a straw.

You’re brave. You’re capable, so capable, Miss Valentine has told you the same. What would she do? What would she do? Quick-thinking, improvising, it’s not your thing— Your fingers itch to take out your gun and press it to his temple. Your own temple at this point.

Leon isn’t stupid, he takes your hand, brushing your knuckles with his lips, then he forces you to face the wall. “Hands on the wall, babe, it’s my turn.”

“Sir,” The argument dies as quickly as it comes to mind, fizzling out on your tongue.

“I won’t hurt you, babe, I know you’re little.” He almost coos, fingers tracing over your shoulder blades, then your spine, then his thumbs slot into your back dimples. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, it doesn’t look right, holding guns and shit— You’re too pretty for that, I bet it hurts your arms, don’t it? Oh, you poor thing. I really care about these things, I’m a feminist, sweetheart.”

No. No, you’re strong, you’re well trained— You’re the best Captain Redfield has to offer. “Mr. Kennedy, please, I’m sorry about the date.” There’s a warmth that presses to your back, “It was an honest mistake—“ His dick, he’s got his fucking pig dick on your back. “Get off of me.” Yes, you’re trained in combat, but against him, admittedly you have nothing on him. And it pisses you off more than his dick does.

“Cool it, babe,” Leon takes your wrists in his hand, keeping them behind your back, you hear him spit on his cock from above. The shlick, shlick, shlick of his wet dick being pumped has the acid in your stomach reacting badly with your lunch. “You’re hot, you ever think of going into porn?” Agent Kennedy is whiny during sex it seems, his voice gets airy, you take some amusement in that. As much amusement as you can in this type of scenario.

“I think you’re disgusting, sir,” Wetness splatters over the back of your sleeveless turtleneck, it soaks into the fabric. Leon kisses the nape of your neck, he tucks his cock away, wipes the sweat from his brow and leaves like he was never there in the first place.

The panic sets in a good five minutes later. He’s made you dirty, in a frenzy, you tear off your shirt in the public restroom, dunking it under the sink to wash it clean. A few ladies filter in and out, ask if you’re okay when they see you in your bra, scrubbing like a mad woman.

You smile your best smile, it’s your worst smile. The hand dryer does little to help you out, even when you wring and ring the fabric into the sink basin, all excess water and cum running down the drain, it’s weak. It’s hard to care in this state, hands trembling as you put it back on, the wetness only reminds you of him, it’s black so unless someone has the pleasure of bumping up against you - it’s likely no one will notice.

Visiting HR is new to you, the elevator dings and you step out onto a floor that’s entirely alien. With a foggy mind it’s harder to navigate the rooms, the people, the desks. A pretty lady leads you to the right place, an even prettier lady sits behind a desk. Her face is weathered, slightly mean, but she’s kind when she smiles.

“I’d like to report… I’d like to report,” Your hands are braced flat on the desk, slumped forward, “To report… I want to…”

Her smile is kinder this time, laced with sympathy, “Take your time, sweetheart,” No, don’t call me that, she takes note of how you bristle, “Take a seat and calm down, alright?”

“No,” You shake your head, insistent on getting it out here and now, “Special Agent Kennedy, Leon Kennedy, Leon Scott Kennedy, I want to report him for… I want to report him for— “

“Sweetie,” The lady, sympathetic once more, takes your hand, “I’m afraid I can’t do anything about that.”

“What? Why? You don’t understand, he—“

“Agent Kennedy, he doesn’t work here, he’s not in our database, and taking it up with STRATCOM, well, that’s a whole ‘nother issue.”

“Right,” How stupid can you be? Stupid fucking asshole. It isn’t even a loophole, it’s just totally legal, you can’t do anything. “Right, of course, I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“Babe, there you are,” Leon revels in your jumpiness, it’s cute. Girls are cuter when they’re shy, when they need a big, strong man to keep ‘em safe. Stoicism doesn’t suit you, anxiety does, it makes your eyes glimmer in the same way Botticelli angels do, your lashes have no end to them. “I missed you.”

“Aren’t you busy saving the world and all, sir?” Still feisty, if it were up to Leon, he’d fuck you silly. Get it all out of you.

“You’re funny,” He says dryly, lips forming a line, “How about that date?”

Rather than exasperation like he had expected, there’s astoundment. “Are you… Are you serious?”

“Duh,” Leon nods, “I thought about it, cutie, I’m happy to give you a second chance.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking— Do you seriously think I would ever say yes to you?” Your brows furrow, they need a clean up, nothing some tweezers can’t fix, he’d have to sort out those forehead wrinkles too, you’re much too young for that.

“Nobody says no to me,” Leon responds with ease, “I don’t know why you wouldn’t, sweetheart, I really thought we had something.” His lips twitch, it’s painfully easy to rile you up. The temper is funny short-term, but long-term not quite as much.

“We,” You point at him, then at yourself, “We have nothing, sir, and if you touch me again, I swear on my life I’ll—“

“What will you do, sweetheart? Cry to your mommy about it?” He edges closer to you, till your sides are warm in his hands, “Little girls shouldn’t talk big, you don’t get to call the shots.”

“I’m not, I’m not a little girl, but you’re a fucking creep, and I will tell Captain Redfield, I will tell him.” And he’ll deal with you, Leon guesses. Stupid little girl, as if Mr. President would let a prick from the BSAA land a hit on his most prized possession, other than First Daughter Ashley Graham.

“See, baby? You can’t handle anything on your own, you’re too little.” He smiles, if your balled up fists say anything, it’s obnoxiously smug, “Oh, are you getting angry at me, baby? That’s no good, why don’t you smile for me?” Leon uses his thumbs to forcefully stretch your cheeks upwards, “C’mon, babe, smile for me.”

“Get off of me,” You twist out of his grip, pumps click-clacking as you desperately try to escape him, but it’s clear you’re new to them, getting the heel caught in each crack— Leon could do better.

“They make your legs look great,” He whistles, never less than a step behind, “Think you should wear ‘em everyday, field work ain’t all that, y’know? I could get you a job over in my building, filing and shit, could wear a skirt everyday.”

“Sir, do you ever shut up?” Comes your shaky yet clipped reply.

“I got plenty more where that came from, babe,” Leon says shamelessly, “Let me take you home, sweetheart, I’ll show you a good time.”

You shiver at the mere thought, shoulders lifting to your ears as you shake yourself off. Leon grabs you from behind once more, this time he’s got a handful of your tits. Without that bulletproof vest, you’ve got a great figure, shit made you square. This pencil skirt and turtleneck combo is flattering, and Leon has to admit, he’s always had a thing for office wear.

To your credit, you put up a good fight, a few more years of training and you would knock Leon flat onto his ass. That’s why he’s gotta save you while he can, girls shouldn’t get to that point. Especially not ones like you. “I’ll leave you alone, sweetheart, if you just give it to me once.” His lies are convincing, he takes your silence as consideration to his offer.

“Once,” You repeat, “Just once?”

“Just once.”

“I’ll bite it off.” You claim.

“Sure you will, babe.” Leon snickers, and because he’s Special Agent Kennedy, he gets his way. Through determination, blood, sweat, tears and a load of cum.

“Keep those on,” He tells you, nodding his head towards your heels as the two of you enter his apartment. “Take that off, and the skirt too.” Leon instructs, and you do as he says, “Good girl.”

He gives you a once over. Not bad. There’s always tweaks that could be made, while all women are beautiful to him, it comes natural to most, they could still be better. Perkier tits, shapely legs, nicer ass— Y’know, you could work on it.

“C’mere, cutie,” Leon pats his lap, begrudgingly you oblige, the mattress sinks with your combined weight. He snaps your bra strap, it pings back on your supple skin, then he reaches back to unhook it. Yeah, Leon can do it one go, you might not look impressed, but he knows you are deep down. “Look at that.” These tits, they have no room on the battlefield, seriously. He squeezes them, the fat spills past his fingers, the BSAA can’t be risking such valuable assets.

He can’t pinpoint your exact feelings, there’s irritation on your face, but when he lays you down, spreads you open, there’s a wet patch on your panties that’s telling of your true nature as a girl. It’s just primal instinct, right? Getting wet when there’s a handsome man groping you. “Aw, I told you we’d have fun, baby.” Leon takes your limp legs, tossing them over his shoulders, he slips your panties off, disappointment floods his system when he sees you’re not shaven bare. He’ll have to skip giving head then. Which is a shame, ‘cause most times it’s fun to see girls squirm on his tongue.

The pad of his thumb meets your clit, he dips downwards past your folds to gather some slick, smears it back over your bud. Part of him wants a taste, his fingers aren’t enough, Leon wants it straight from the source itself. Though it’s totally against his code of conduct, his tongue laves over your spread pussy once. He doesn’t let himself get carried away.

Instead, Leon opens you up around his fingers, scissors them into your tight hole to stretch you out. He keeps his thumb rubbing over your clit, he’s good at multitasking, and it’s the only thing that gets you whimpering, though most of it is muffled into your fist. He deems you wet enough, or he’s just very impatient, and it’s definitely the latter, Leon can admit it.

“You ready, babe?” Leon asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer as he slides into you, to the hilt, and raw. You let out a shuddering gasp as his cock knocks the fleshy opening of your cervix.

Then, you have the gall to ask, “Is it in yet, sir?” Despite the fact that you’re still trembling, shaken up by the sheer size of him. Leon can be humble, he knows it’s not that big, but for inexperienced little things like you it must be a real challenge. You take to it well, after the first few thrusts, the discomfort seems to fade, and your back arches against your will. A real cockslut born and bred.

He fills you up, fucks you like he wants to tear a hole through you, “You need to shut your mouth sometimes, sweetheart. I don’t know who raised you, but girls shouldn’t talk back like that.” Leon grips your jaw tight, forces it open so he can spit down your throat, much to his dismay you send the ball of spit hurtling back towards his face. He closes his eyes, hips stilling within you, then he brings his palm down on your cheek. It’s encouragement to behave.

You’re stunned, yelping sharply as he hits you once more, grinding deep into your wet cunt, the squelch gives you away. The way you’re sucking him in, like you’re a glutton for dick, how your hip bones smack into his each time you raise ‘em up— it's so clear you’re enjoying it. You like this, you like him, just needed a man to show you, to put you in your place.

Leon’s kind enough to keep pressing down on your bud, when he pulls out, your pussy clenched tight around the fat head of his cock, it begs him so sweetly to fill you up once more. He bottoms out, you jolt, legs slipping from his shoulders and wrapping around his waist. It’s then he’s reminded of your heels, they dig into his back, and your little hands come to rest on his ass to force him deeper and deeper, which Leon isn’t all that fond of, but you’re an unruly girl.

“Look how bad you want it.” Leon licks into your mouth, sucks on your tongue, “I knew it, baby, I knew you wanted it.” He drives his hips into you with such force, pussy gushing around him, your release trickles out of you with each thrust. “Messy girl.” He taunts, abdomen wet and his cock wetter.

You’re hit with aftershocks as he continues to pump into your sensitive pussy, clit twitching, he has enough sense to pull out. Leon isn’t an idiot. His cock rests heavy on your stomach, he urges you to take it in your hand, and you do. His hand wraps around yours, helps you jerk him off like you should’ve been glad to do in the restrooms earlier. “That’s it, you’re getting good at it, baby, you’re learning.” Leon’s load is sticky, shooting ropes of pearly white over your fingers, dripping down your wrist.

“Sir, this is it now, isn’t it?” You get down to business fast, acting like your pussy wasn’t springing a leak on his cock, “You’ll leave me alone now? If you don’t, I really will tell him, I will do something about it I swear on my fucking life.”

He says yes, but Leon is already thinking of what to send you next week. On Monday it might be a teddy bear, the ones that hold stuffed hearts in their stuffed arms. Tuesday, another bouquet, or a dress, a tight one that brings out your eyes. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, he has plenty of time to chase you again.

[lemonkeiku]

LOST

Summary : Ghost was M.I.A and when the team found him after a few weeks, he already changed.

Pairing: Zombie!Ghost x Bambi (OC) (can be platonic, no mention of romance)

Content: zombie!AU, angst, zombie physichal description, crossover with Resident Evil.

Warnings: mention of Resident Evil content, possibly bad English especially the grammar (sorry, English is not my first language) and I haven't written for a long time.

Author's note: I've been committed that in my AU, Call of Duty and Resident Evil was in the same universe. All connected with Bambi (my OC) is the daughter of Chris Redfield HAHAHA

---

It was the worst situation they could have imagine. After years serving for the military, fighting on the battle field, declaring wars against terrorists and experiencing dozen of life threaten mission, none of them required them to point their gun to each other. Or to be precisely, to one of them.

It all started a few weeks ago. There was a terrorist attack involving bio-weapon—a virus that could bring back those who were dead and turned them into bloodthirsty monsters that would attack anyone in front of them. The Task Force 141 was sent to deal with this incident but no one had experience with bio-weapon on this scale. Too many unexpected event and the situation got out of control.

Ghost was declared M.I.A. during this mission.

A few weeks later, they came back along with some backup from agencies experienced in dealing with bio-weapons—the BSAA—to clean what they left behind and hope they could find Ghost.

They found him. In an abandoned building not far from where they last saw him. He still wore the same uniform, most of his gear still attached. Even his helmet. He also still wore his mask but the bottom part was ripe off, showing his rooting flesh and exposed jaw bone.

There was no much left from him.

He stared at his team blankly. His eyes turned all white, couldn’t even recognize his teammates. He didn’t talk. Only an unrecognizable growl was heard. No one was sure if he was trying to say something or not.

Nobody could make a move. All of them was shocked that they didn’t know how to react. They never prepared to see Ghost like this. No one prepared to see Ghost like this. They could imagine to find Ghost’s dead body somewhere, not walking around like this. Even Price couldn’t make any decision when he was told to kill every undead they met.

Gaz really could only stand still. His Captain didn’t move, so he wouldn’t make any move. Soap was calling Ghost’s name a few times, thinking he probably still be there. But when Ghost didn’t even flinch, everybody should know that he was no longer with them.

Bambi’s head was crowded by the thought of Ghost being a zombie. She knew he was gone, maybe since they lost him a few weeks ago. Nothing they could do to reverse it. Her father always told her how horrified to loose someone to bio-terrorism. She was told multiple times the best thing she could do for someone who was infected, especially those who already turned. Her father was a long-run bio-terrorism fighter. He had been fighting in the war against bio-weapon for more than twenty years. There was no reason for her not to believe him. She just never thought she would experience it on first hand.

She kept telling herself that Ghost was already dead. The figure in front of her was just his walking empty corpse without a single soul. Without Ghost’s soul in it. He was already gone. She already lost him. There was no way to bring him back.

She could hear Soap kept asking what should they do and they started arguing soon after. All the voice sounds unclear as she couldn’t understand any words that came from them. The voice in her head felt louder, kept convince her that the man she care so much was already gone. She tried to convince herself that keeping him that way just made his fate worse than death. It wasn’t the right thing to do.

As everybody kept arguing in the background, Bambi raised her rifle and pointed it directly to Ghost’s forehead. No one noticed her movements until the sound of the first shot exploded from the tip of her rifle. The first bullet hit his helmet but the second bullet hit the perfect spot between his eyebrows.

His body fell with a loud thud on the ground and almost echoed as everybody stop making any noise. She could hear Soap screamed, maybe to at her. Price was also heard saying something but Bambi couldn’t process anything. Her mind was too messed up to understand what the others were saying. It felt like her soul also leaving her body.

Ignoring the voice that Soap, Price and Gaz were making, she walked to Ghost’s body. It felt like she was a zombie too, like something moved her. She lost her grip and dropped her rifle along the way. She fell on her knees right in front of Ghost’s dead body. And this time he was really dead. She turned his body around, placed his head on her lap as she sat on the ground.

Then, she burst in tears even though she had been trying so hard to control her emotions all this time. She screamed on top of her lungs that people outside the building could hear her mourn. She just shot someone she cared dearly. Even she knew it was right decision she could take, but it felt like a part of her died too with him.

Everybody went silent and leaving only Bambi's anguished cries echoed through the cold walls of that abandoned building. Nobody could say anything.

Ghost was declared K.I.A that day. It didn’t matter exactly when Ghost died, they already lost him since the day he went missing. The grief they felt was far worse than anyone could imagine. None of them have remained the same since that day.

[leonsbunny]

Shit For Brains

( Re8!Chris Redfield x gn!reader || late night calls with your husband || link to pt 2 )

Chris, absolutely dreaded phone calls. The BSAA captain was haunted by the sounds of ringing landlines. To him, they meant (usually) bad news. The news of someone taken too early in life, the news of another life-risking mission in order to save the world, for God knows how long.

But it was different for you.

The man was usually reserved, stoic, not speaking unless it was necessary. Constantly in work mode, Chris found it hard to really be himself around his team members, despite how long he's been with them. Constantly, he was stubbornly caring, worrying for everyone's safety.

Everyone except himself. More or less, he was hard-headed, heart where his brain should be. Chris cared too much.

You made him feel soft.

A thing he couldn't really wrap his head around.

He still doesn't get what he did to deserve such a sweet thing like you.

His eyes flutter open slightly, and the sounds of the phone next to his makeshift bed fill his ears. The dread in his heart already sets in. He palms blindly to his left for the phone to stop its wailing from waking up the entire base in the dead of night.

He lazily grips onto the handset of the phone, pressing the speaker to his ear gently. Not even bothering to sit up to take this call, Chris had no idea who was on the other side of the line. Being the worrywart he was, his brain conjured up many, much worse and worse thoughts of what could go wrong.

He had no idea you were on the other side of that line.

"Chris Redfield speaking." He says, voice stern with a hint of tiredness behind it, still not knowing it was you he kept up his professional stoic front.

"Chris?" You repeat, sounding slightly less tired than he was. His side of the line went quiet. For a brief moment, he spent the time registering in your voice again. "....(Y/n)?" He says back, the sternness in his voice softens, he holds onto the phone loosely, laying his weight down fully onto the bed he shifts around comfortably.

His stoic front dissolves, fizzling away as he hears your voice. You always spoke so softly with him, and Chris leans his ear into the phone. He wanted to be close. To hear your voice.

The conversation between you two eventually leads to Chris asking you if he was a good person. He didn't feel like one. To be honest, he felt like shit.

He just needed to hear you say he was a good person. You're all that mattered to him.

“Course, you're a good person. You've saved so many people! Why are you questioning that?�� you ask, somewhat concerned for him. Scratch that, *very* concerned when he doesn't reply right away.

Chris goes quiet again, his eyes tracing along the lines on his ceiling. “I don't know- I just wanted to make sure.” He replies, lying through his teeth. He didn't want to make you worry. How ironic. The worrywart doesn't want others to worry for him.

“I think the coffee I had today is messing with my head…” He sighs, though you can't see him, you know he's clutching his forehead in his palm, as if that'll do anything to reverse the effects of the coffee he had earlier. “Coffee? Did one of the rookies make it this time?” You ask, jokingly, trying your best to cheer him up.

“Yes. They did. All of them, actually.” He was starting to feel better now, realizing how thoughtful his rookies were to pitch in and make coffee the way he liked it. “Aww! Did they make it my way?” You coo, smiling through the phone. Chris could imagine it, you fawning over how much his rookies looked up to him. He wanted nothing else in the world but to be home with you.

“They..they tried.” He chuckles, softening up to you like he always did. “I thought someone broke into base, but they were all just up early trying to make me a nice cup of coffee to wake up to.” He tells you, another chuckle coming from his chest. “I thought someone broke in! Rookies these days…” He trails off sighing, and Chris can feel himself smiling softly. The corners of his wrinkles pointing up, the creases of his eyes folding like fleece.

“Aw…” you say again, leaning into your phone to hear what he's saying. “At least they tried!” You add, finding the situation endearing. “At least they tried.” Chris repeats in agreement. His eyes wander to the clock near his bedside table, “It's almost time for me to get up…Honey, I'll call you later.” He sounds a bit sad. He didn't want to leave the call, but he had to.

“Video call, okay?” You sounded sad too, Chris could tell. “Promise.” He affirms softly. You both say your goodbyes, Chris bidding you goodnight and you bidding him good morning.

“I love you, honey. Goodnight.”

[cho-aaacho]

(Flufftober 2023) Massage

Main Masterlist I Archive of Our Own

Flufftober 2023 Masterlist I Prompts List

Tags : Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Massage, BSAA Chris Redfield, Flufftober 2023, Reader is genderless

(Flufftober 2023 Day 17)

Chris couldn't help but feel himself bathed in the romance situation. Above his head, there is a crystal-clear chandelier emanating a glow, showering the entire room with its light.

The romantic music flowed through the ceiling and the marble floor, promising the entire ballroom with its celestial melody.

Chris stood gracefully, his whole presence bathed in the soft glow of the chandelier. A sweet, gentle hum allured the ballroom, melting his very soul as he meandered his eyes towards the main entrance, only to discover a young, beautiful, and charismatic being drawing near him. Moving only for him.

With a bouquet held romantically in his trembling hands, a slight, soft smile curls on his lips, rendering him even more handsome.

His heart fluttered like a golden butterfly, so glowing that it almost overwhelmed him. It feels like everything around him has transformed into a garden of Eden.

At that moment, he understood exactly what happened to him; he knew very well what kind of disease had contaminated him.

Ah...

"I'm sorry, I'm late, Redfield." You smiled as he handed you a bouquet.

...yes, in love.

"No, that's fine. We didn't miss our last dance." He replied, his voice wrapped in a serene tone. You couldn't recall where or when he talked to you with such a calming tone.

He was a stern captain in the BSAA; his words were always full of soldier etiquette, and sometimes you couldn't imagine what he looked like without those uniforms. There are always dark clouds following his head every time you talk with him; there is always a gap between you and him.

Everyone is afraid of Chris, including you. But Piers had sworn that off-duty Chris was a different man. And from this point, you chose to believe in Piers.

"Was it your driver who made you late?"

He inquired, extending his hand toward you. You shyly accepted his hand. You couldn't lie, but you were feeling nervous around him. Because, oh God... he's so different from what you saw at the BSAA office. His smell, the way he locked your eyes—everything is so different.

With his guidance, you embarked on a journey toward the ballroom.

"I have no driver. I came here by myself, Redfield."

His laughter was followed by a soft smile on his face. "No need for such formality with me. You can call me Chris, or perhaps you've got a nickname for your captain?"

"Uh... Okay, Chris?"

"Okay... shall we dance?"

In an intimate embrace, his arms wrapped around your waist and guided you to a romantic connection. As the romance music blended with you, he swayed gently from side to side never stopping to gaze at your face. His lips were sliding sensually along the curve of your neck and then planting a passionate kiss. You're a bit confused at first, but after time passes, you're quite enjoying that kiss.

As your fingers accidentally brush against Chris' waist, he moves his body to the back. His expression changed to a burden of pain. You didn't know what happened to him.

"You okay, Chris?" you inquire, momentarily halting the waltz.

"You know," he began. "My waist is kind of hurting after falling from our last mission—so when someone touches there—"

"What? How about—I want to see that; maybe I can give you some help?"

Chris didn't say anything; he was just following your guide somewhere. Somewhere, he didn't know where it was. The two of you ended up in the bathroom, where you were alone inside.

You assured. "I don't want to be rude or sound perverted. But I want to see which part of your body is hurting. You know I'm quite good at giving someone a massage."

"I don't—"

"You need proof, Chris?"

With a tender touch, your finger squeezed against his waist, and a weird thread connected between you two. Unaware of Chris' expression, you didn't have time to witness something like that. Because you have something important here, right?

You furrowed after discovering something. "Well, I think your muscles are a little tense. How was your sleep? I can guarantee that after you get a massage from me, everything will be okay."

Chris chuckled. "So what should we do? Take you to my home."

Note : Uuuhhh. Sorry for the delay, but I promise I will finish Flufftober. Anyway, I'm rewatching Death Note this time, and once again, I fall into N and L brain rot. So you can blame the delay for this. //Slaaaaap

The next part will be Ethan Winters.

[issa-pheonyx]

Yandere!Piers Nivans X BSAA!GN!Reader🔪

𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀' 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗣𝗶𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗲𝗻𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘂�� 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝗺, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 ��𝗼𝘂. 𝗕𝘂𝘁, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗽𝗮𝘆 𝗻𝗼 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂…😳👀

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

"Soldier." Chris nods his head as you salute to him. "Captain Redfield, I was notified by your emergency contact. I will be joining you and your team throughout the mission, sir." Piers overhears the other members talking about your work both in and out of Chris' presence. You were damn good they said. The more he heard how good you were and even Chris himself introducing you to the team, saying such praises, his blood turns hot and cold. He was fairly distant with you. Even giving you small talk. Which you did not mind since you are clocked in working on this mission to get it over with. That is unique about you. Everyone can not seem to figure out how you have not broken down your walls yet.

Furthermore, you were like a cold-blooded killer taking down the J'avo's. They feared you too, but you are targeted a lot, yet they failed to take you down. It made the job easier for the team and your loyalty for Chris never failed. Piers on the other hand was not having it. Whenever he is stuck with you whether it is you two are alone stuck somewhere or cornered by enemies he just pretends you didn't exist and makes himself go find the team. You did not mind it (more like not giving a fuck about him too) as you were sticking through thick and thin on completing the mission. Piers notices you get there early as they wait for him, finding ways to cross areas, executing J'avo's without them noticing on your own as they are clear to move, etc. It was driving him mad.

That's when he sees you interacting with Jake. He seemed to break down your walls easily which is very rare for the team and Piers to witness. The only person who is more triggered than the rest was Piers. Every time you and Jake plan to work together in the meantime Piers would cut in,"No, she will be staying with me." Jake finds it funny as he gives a smug smile. Piers being a fucking shiba Piers he would glare at him,"What are you smiling, punk?!" He would attempt to square up to him only for you to stop him,"FOCUS, PIERS!!" He was taken aback, but your touch on his arm to turn him around to face you made him melt. That's when he starts to follow you like a damn dog.

Everyone knew you don't need help for anything. You are one of BSAA's best soldiers. Yet, Piers says otherwise. "I can lift you up." As he cups his hands lowering down his knee. "I'll get you patched up, (Y/N). Hold on." 'Tis a scratch, but okay. "Keep going I'll shoot them down!" He is sharp with his sniper and somehow catches the ones you didn't notice they were there. Eventually, this change of heart was getting out of hand when it was a lot more work than usual when Piers was not interacting and helping with the others...maybe he's doing them on purpose?

There's no way. "Piers, I appreciate the guidance, but the team needs you too. I can do this by myself." He maintains his composure to not snap at you,"Listen...I know it can be tiresome doing everything on your own and being the best soldier is a trademark, but you need me-" You laughed. Laughed both in amusement and the audacity of him. You barely laughed. Not with anyone besides Jake. "I need you? As if. Piers, you despised me like I am nothing, but a waste of space in the beginning and now...you follow me like a lost puppy." He stood frozen, speechless, and you went back on moving with the rest.

After that, he was back to his old self. It made you miss it-just a little though. You got your rhythm back again. However, each member was dead. One by one. Sure, you have lost many soldiers (which is why you started to work alone, but changed to be called for emergencies), but this one hurt. There were times you tried to stop crying from breaking down. It's been a while you haven't cried. That's until the B.O.W was going to drown you three left. You tried to save Chris from it strangling the soul out of him. The monster ended up slapping you away as you flew across the room causing your head to be heavy, vision blurry, and ears ringing. Piers shouts out your name and he looks back at Chris and well...you knew what he had to do.

He ended up being injected with the virus. He saved you both. But, you were bleeding tremendously. You're slowly dying. Chris was getting the sphere tube ready for the three of you to escape. Piers was sat down by Chris' help and you were next to Piers. You were groaning in pain and all you could do was lean against Piers for support. Piers smiles softly staring at you, but would be stopped by his arm triggering pain and slowly losing his power against it. "I'm going to get you both out of here. I promise. Come on, Piers." Only for Piers to give him his BSAA badge and your dog tags. He closes the tube on him as Chris tries to break the glass, but could not.

This was a perfect romance for the both of you. Both of you dying together was probably the best option he thought. You were laying down as you were drifting away. You only caught a glimpse of him walking towards you, kneels down, and his non-infected hand caressing your blood stained cheek,"P-Piers..what are you-" You try to talk only to close them as you let out your last breathe, feeling his lips on yours as you passed away...

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

[yjhariani]

The Things We Do for Love pt. 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley X GN!Reader

Word Count: 1700± Warnings: Profanity, mentions of death, angst?

Part 1

“Ghost…”

It was not the voice he wanted to hear.

“Fucking hell, Ghost.”

Maybe if Simon kept ignoring the voice it would fade into the back of his mind and disappear.

“LT!” Johnny smacked his palms onto the table in front of Simon.

“The fuck do you want, MacTavish?” Simon sighed.

“I got a call. Price said Y/N’s returned,” Johnny said, shaking his head and exhaling in relief.

Simon looked down at his phone. The screen showed no new notifications. No calls from you, no messages.

“Did you hear me? Y/N has returned. Aren’t you relieved? Everyone’s relieved,” Johnny added.

That was an unusual reaction to someone returning from a mission. It was as if they were expecting you not to come back.

“Return from where exactly?” Simon looked up at his friend.

“You… did Price not tell you?” Johnny hesitantly asked.

Simon grabbed Johnny’s collar, scrunching it in his fist.

“Where?” Simon asked.

“I can’t tell you,” Johnny said, but immediately opened his mouth again as soon as he felt Simon pulling him up. “The BSAA asked for a couple of expendable squads and Y/N went.”

“Expendable?” Simon repeated.

“Disposable,” Johnny clarified.

“I know what that means!” Simon let go of Johnny’s collar, realising he had been breathing heavily.

Johnny fixed his clothes and took a considerable distance from Simon who was looking back at his phone.

“Y/N is in quarantine, but Price didn’t say we can’t see them,” Johnny informed.

“Quarantine?!” Simon repeated, feeling his blood pumping.

“It’s… BSAA business of course there’d be quaran—”

Simon kicked back the chair he was sitting on, sending it against the wall.

“Where are you going?” Johnny asked, very concerned.

Not responding, Simon walked away.

At first, Johnny was going to follow him, but seeing his reaction, he would rather not. So, he went to call Price instead, informing him of the situation.

The captain told him simply to stand down and leave the lieutenant be. Then, Johnny went to Kyle for protection in case something bad happened.

Simon was waiting for anything from you. Calls, texts, even your sudden appearance for the next two weeks. He got nothing.

Maybe you had moved on after all. That was the hardest pill to swallow. He always had a hunch that it would happen at some point, but never this early. Never so soon. Without adieu.

A few nights after Simon told himself to accept the fact that he would never be with you anymore, Johnny joined him whilst he was smoking outside of his barrack.

“You got your uniform ready for tomorrow, LT?” the sergeant asked.

“The fuck you on about?” Simon replied.

“The ceremony,” Johnny excitedly said. “Y/N got the promotion and they’re getting a medal.”

Surely if you wanted Simon to come, you would have let him know, right? So, why had you not?

Upon not getting a reaction from the lieutenant, Johnny patted the taller man on the shoulder.

“Just get it ready. Must be excited to see Y/N, eh?” Johnny said before walking away.

Not if it seemed you did not want him to see you. Hell, Simon had no idea if he wanted to see you either now that he had received no words from you these last weeks.

However, Simon dusted his dress uniform and prepared all the trinkets for it. He hated how he still cared about how he might look when he saw you tomorrow.

Going to the ceremony with the rest of the 141, Simon mostly said nothing to them or entertained their words at all. He was still waiting for your call. Or texts. Anything.

There was not a single word still and he had no idea if he should be angry at himself for waiting or at you for staying in the dark. Maybe at Price for keeping everything about you away from him. From keeping you away from him.

Soon enough, the ceremony began and you were stepping onto the stage. By now, Simon had no idea what to feel anymore. He could not translate a single feeling that he felt when he saw you.

Was he relieved? Yes, but you looked half dead. Was he angry at you? Yes, but he was proud of you at the same time.

You looked… different over all. Fresh scar on your face, new uniform, definitely new rank and another medal. There was no smile on your face, one that used to light Simon’s day up. There were no friendly eyes, the one that would look right into Simon’s eyes every time he was being unreasonable.

Waiting for the ceremony to end, Simon stood behind everyone, giving anyone a dirty look every time they looked at him. He said not a single word, but you were all he saw. Not once did you see him.

Why did he even bother? You never wanted him anyway.

The group soon found themselves walking towards you. Simon stood still where he was before, watching Price and the others congratulating you. At that point, Simon started walking away.

Ignoring Johnny who was calling his name, Simon continued walking away from the venue. Then, he heard his name called, but instead of Johnny’s voice, it was yours.

Simon stopped in his tracks. He did not turn around, but he felt the familiarity of your gaze on his back. Then, he heard your footsteps before seeing you in front of him.

It seemed to be a long time that the two of you stood in front of each other, merely looking at one another. There was so much to say and nothing at the same time.

“No call, no texts,” Simon said.

“Lost my phone,” you said.

“Not like you don’t memorise my number,” Simon scoffed in disbelief.

“It’s not by choice,” you said. “I got my orders.”

“Price ordered you to shut me out?” Simon asked.

“Look at my uniform, Simon, I got another captain to answer to now,” you pointed out. “He’s American. Got Redfield in his name.”

It was a BSAA uniform. That meant you belonged to them now. You were… to dispose as they liked.

“The prick that punched a boulder,” Simon sighed.

“That one,” you said.

Simon saw the thin smile on your face and felt his shoulders loosen.

“I guess congratulations are in order,” Simon said.

“You know why this happened, right?” you asked.

“It’s a sacrifice,” Simon nodded once.

“Do you wanna know what my mission is, Simon?” you replied. “To save as many civilians as possible.”

“That’s never a problem with compassion such as yours,” Simon said.

“Yeah, that’s why out of 218 civilians, we lost none of them and out of 24 soldiers—more than half was official BSAA SOUs—only one came back,” you said, struggling with a lump that formed in your throat.

Simon said nothing for a few seconds, sinking in that information.

“I guess that’s how you get your medal, then,” Simon said in a rather friendly tone.

You let out a weak chuckle, but you were looking down immediately. Swallowing your tears, you took a deep breath.

“Aye, cheer up,” Simon said. “I heard the BSAA pays are more generous.”

“Way more generous,” you nodded. “Of course that means I renewed my contract. Can get us that bike you wanted so bad. All thanks to Price.”

“Price?” Simon asked.

“He didn’t tell you? Of course he didn’t,” you sighed. “You’d dampen his cigars with your dirty underwear.”

“That’s a good idea,” Simon said.

“Don’t,” you chuckled.

“You can’t stop me if we’re not in the same base,” Simon said.

“Right,” you said after a pause. “I will even more rarely see you after today.”

“After today? It’s been months,” Simon reminded. “You’re not staying here?”

“I told you, I got my orders,” you said.

“That’s… disappointing,” Simon said. “I guess you do deserve it now that you bear such a rank.”

“Tell me it’d get better,” you said.

“It won’t,” Simon stated. “You’d get a Soap and a Y/N and your life is a living hell.”

“I won’t be a you!” you protested.

“A—the fuck, a me?” Simon questioned, offended.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You’re trouble.”

“Yet here you are,” Simon said.

You only smiled at him.

“I can tell people we’re engaged, then, yeah?” Simon asked.

“Right now? Are you sure?” you asked back.

“What are they gonna do? Separate us again?” Simon replied. “Besides… it’s been almost a year.”

“I don’t… we should still be careful,” you said. “23 people died—”

“Doing their job,” Simon cut you off.

“It doesn’t feel like that,” you reasoned.

Behind his mask, Simon stitched his brows together.

“Yes, I did this for us, but it’s… isn’t this too much? If I’d known love cost this much, I wouldn’t have had it,” you said.

Brokenheart was not something Simon felt a lot. This time, it felt like he had been shot in the chest twelve times.

“Besides, don’t you prefer to be with someone who can wait for you at home? Not risking their life in the same way you do?” you piled.

“Fuck that,” Simon said, stepping closer to you so he could speak more quietly. “I asked you to marry me because there’s no one else I’d rather be with.”

“And as soon as I said yes everything went downhill. Price showed up, we got separated, I got transferred, people died,” you recalled.

“Irrelevant,” Simon stated.

You looked down, stepping back from him.

“You’re a soldier for fuck’s sake, get over your guilt!” Simon said.

“It’s gonna take some time, then,” you said. “Until then… maybe we should stay away from each other.”

“I can’t believe you’d say that,” Simon said.

With a heavy heart, you fixed your posture and nodded once at him.

“I will see you again, Lieutenant Riley,” you said before walking away.

Simon was frozen, watching you walk away from him. If he had felt like he was shot in the chest twelve times, he felt it again.

“What the fuck? LT, why is Y/N walking away?” Johnny showed up out of nowhere. “What did you say? Why are you still here? You should come after—”

“Fuck off, MacTavish,” Simon harshly said, pushing the sergeant away as he walked himself out of the area.

[maccaronimassacre]

Resident Evil bot dump

That’s right, it’s me again with some more bots and this time they aren’t just Ethan Winters ones. (And by that I mean most of them are Ethan Winters ones).

RE:8 Chris Redfield x BSAA agent! Reader

You’re making your way down the halls of the BSAA headquarters, eager to meet the captain of the elite task force you are joining. Eventually you reach the office of Captain Chris Redfield who is currently sat at his desk looking over your file with a stern expression. He glances up and notices you walk in, gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him. "So, you’re the new recruit?"

Chris Redfield and Ethan Winters x BSAA agent! Reader

You are the newest member of the Wolf Hound Squad, a team that’s hidden from the prying eyes of the BSAA with Chris Redfield as the Captain. You walk into his office and spot Chris with a man in his late thirties with blonde hair and hazel eyes. They seem to be deep in conversation before they notice you walk in. Ethan: "So this is the newest member?" Chris: "That they are, Ethan."

Post RE:7 Yandere! Ethan Winters x Reader

After the events of the Dulvey Incident and the death of Ethan’s wife Mia, the BSAA relocated you to rural Romania to monitor you two. However since you’ve settled into your new home Ethan’s been acting strange, he’s become more protective over you and is practically joined at your hip. The BSAA concluded that the two of you aren’t infected with the mutamycete but you can’t shake off the feeling that something is wrong with your partner. But at the same time he seems so sweet and caring…

Single dad! Ethan Winters x Teacher! Reader

You’ve finished clearing your desk in preparation for a parent-teacher meeting between you and the father of one of your students, Rosemary Winters. A man walks into you classroom, his hazel eyes shining in the light of the room as he adjusts his tie and runs a hand through his blonde hair. "You’re Roses teacher, right?" He walks over to you and hold out his hand to shake. "I’m her father, Ethan Winters."

RE:8 Ethan Winters x Captive! Reader

Ethan carefully makes his way through Castle Dimitrescu with his head on a swivel. He unearths the entrance to the dungeon, pointing his gun forward as he cautiously makes his way through the darkness. As he explores the dungeon he points his flashlight in each of the cells until he spots you, huddled in the corner of one of the cells, chained and bloodied. You seem to be the only person whose alive down here much to Ethan’s shock.

RE:2 Leon Kennedy x Reader

You and Leon are hiding in the break room within the Raccoon City Police Department after a close encounter with some zombies. You watch Leon pick up handgun ammo and some herbs from the storage box in the far corner of the room. His eyes meet yours and he gives you a small reassuring smile in an attempt to ease you, despite the nightmare of a situation the two of you are in.

link to my other bots here

[prettyflyshyguy]

What are you gonna do, monster boy?

Amazing what I can achieve when I put a song on repeat. Smashed this one out as something fun, refreshing and stress free. Still working on the big final chapter of the C Virus AU, but I'm recovering my confidence as a writer by letting myself work on some sillier things. Good practice too.

This is a mini story based on this phenomenal post and an overly complicated idea I had from it.

Enjoy the garbage here, or on AO3.

“You look nice.” Leon smiled wryly.

Chris rolled his eyes as he pushed the elevator doors back for Leon, who was wasting all the time in the world as he made his way down the corridor. The sharp cut business attire didn’t suit him as much as it barely fit him. A necessary evil, Leon had assured him. It’ll go down better.

To aid in Rebecca’s continued research, and for ease of access to monitoring the effects of the trial viral inhibitors she’d prescribed him, Leon was temporarily assigned to assisting in BSAA operations. The guise was of course that his knowledge post-Lanshiang was critical in containing and mitigating the impact of smaller scale and localised outbreaks of the C-Virus. A half truth, no one seemed to question it so far and a number of months had already passed. The global crisis raged on, the work never ended, his temporary partnership was easily justified to nosy journalists and more discerning governmental bodies.

Chris perpetually winged to him the whole elevator ride about how much he found the bureaucratic nature of these meetings tiresome. Paper pushers, out-of-touch management. Stakeholders who never set foot on ground zero yet felt qualified to call the shots. 

“If it weren't for people like that, we wouldn't be here.” Leon retorted, “You saying you’d want to be out of a job?”

He smiled as he watched Chris fiddle for the umpteenth time with his collar and tie.

“If people like that weren't around, there’d be no BOW based warfare. I’ll be glad the day I’m made redundant.” Chris huffed as he loosened his tie slightly.

Leon conceded that the man had a point.

The meeting was routine. The BSAA was called in to clean up a minor incident, it was successful, and so various representatives and stakeholders for the client would be meeting with the BSAA to discuss the outcome and debrief. Chris had insisted on arriving early, saying that this meeting was critical given the circumstance of the client, and it needed to go smoothly. 

Although it wasn’t mentioned, Leon could tell he appreciated the emotional support.

-

Chris was, for all intents and purposes, an exemplary operator within the BSAA. Most notable about him was his considerable empathy, fierce determination to do what's right, and how much he believed they had the power to change the world for the better. Quality traits, Leon respected him highly for them all, however, the latter might be considered a tad naive. Chris was an exemplary operator, trapped in a room, surrounded by stakeholders and board members. Politicians, in the figurative sense, and arguably the worst kind. Leon’s eyes darted around the seated figures, noting the sheen of luxurious silk clothes, tailored suits and wrist watches that were never used for any practical purpose. If you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it. 

There were a handful of friendlies on the south end of the oval table where Leon and Chris sat opposite. Leon knew them all as subordinates within the teams Chris oversaw, all good men and women, people you could trust. They had kindness in their eyes despite the worn and torn faces they wore, they shared the optimism of their Captain. They existed in stark contrast to the other two thirds of the table where the client cartel sat in horseshoe formation, their backs positioned to the entrance to the room, psychologically forming a barrier between the BSAA staff and the exit. 

“-pride ourselves in swiftly responding to an incident, and I am very pleased with the outcome and the performance of my team.”

Leon watched Chris fidget slightly in his seat as he spoke. He was clearly uncomfortable, but he was handling it well. Still, Chris was out of his depth. 

Politicians were hard enough to hold a work related conversation with. They were always playing games. A simple discussion became a contract with fine print, never in your favor or your benefit. More was always demanded of you, because good was never good enough for them. He wondered who had more power anyway, in these strange times. Was it the politicians he was used to handling, or the people sitting a few meters away from him. 

“-the use of B.O.W units by the BSAA?”

Leon’s attention violently snapped back to the woman seated at the head of the table. She shuffled through a document folder, licking a finger to flick through the pages effortlessly. Peering down through a set of reading glasses with a fine gold chain draped around her neck, a frown crinkled the skin on her forehead. She looked to be at least fifty years of age, with the telltale signs that she’d had work done to maintain a youthful presentation. Despite mankind mastering the molding of biology, they were still unable to tame the passage of time. The cracks in her mask formed when she frowned, and her voice gave away her years. Her dark eyes shifted upwards, piercing out from behind a sunken brow.

“I-Wh-Excuse me?” Chris stammered, shocked at whatever she had just implied.

Leon looked around the room hoping to find some context. The BSAA members appeared just as confused and shocked as he was. 

“Mr. Redfield, as the lead operator of this…” the woman paused, a chill beginning to settle on the room, “... Successful operation…”

Chris stiffened in his chair. Leon squinted from across the table and could barely make out the tiny printed details on her visitors identification badge.

Ms. Harker, CTO, Valhanian Pharmaceuticals. 

This is bad, he thought.

“... Do you condone the use of Bio-Organic-Weapons by the BSAA?” 

Harker’s speech had a sharp whistle to it that pierced the air of the room and the stunned silence of the attendees. This was a regular Tuesday lunch for Leon, for Chris this may as well be judgment day at the pearly gates. 

Don’t.

As if willing it so hard might psychically influence Chris into responding the right way.

Chris, don’t.

“What the hell are you trying to say?”

Fuck.

He couldn’t fault Chris for being defensive, but god, if there ever was a worse time for it.

“It’s a simple question, Mr Redfield.”

Chris rolled back his shoulders and leaned into his chair, hands clasped tightly on the tabletop, trying to calm himself as he regulated the tone of his response.  

“Of course we don’t condone the use of B.O.W’s, the BSAA was formed specifically to combat their use and propagation.” he responded calmly and confidently. 

“Thank you Mr Redfield, you’ve alleviated my concerns regarding your intelligence.”

Leon flinched at the insult. Glancing at Chris, he could see his friend's quick fuse burning at an alarming rate. 

“However your conviction is something I fear I must question.” 

Chris swallowed. The colour had drained ever so slightly from his face.

“I only think it’s right that the BSAA is transparent with regards to how it operates. We came to you on the good faith you would have the professionalism to help us clean up a horrific accident…” she gently placed the manilla folder back on the desk in front of her, and started to lay out items from inside it in an organised fashion.

“... and what are we without safety protocols and rigidity? Our products keep people alive and healthy all over the world, as I’m sure you’re all well aware.”

The venom in her tone caused a shiver to roll across Leon’s skin. 

“So to sit here in front of myself and my associates, and represent the BSAA, I find this conviction quite concerning with regards to what I’m going to show you.”

With a twist of her wrist she selected and slid a photograph down the length of the table, as if to twist the knife deeper.

“Care to explain this to me, Mr Redfield?”

Chris gently reached for the photograph, his hand trembled ever so slightly. The sight of Chris of all people, this nervous unsettled Leon like nothing else, despite everything he’d been through and seen before. Somehow a room full of big-pharma sharks was scarier than a giant monster covered in teeth and claws. He felt his heart beat a little faster as Chris eyed the photograph.

“I’m sorry, what exactly am I looking at?”

Good, good. Leon thought. Don’t give it to them easy. 

“What you are looking at, Mr Redfield, is an image pulled from our security system. It’s the clearest shot our team recovered, as either the camera’s were tampered with, or their blind spots were carefully utilised by this….” she paused, tapping the table with an acrylic nail as she pondered what word would be most appropriate.

“... individual.”

She paused to let the phrase sink in before continuing.

“It failed to hide entirely from us however, and in that image you can clearly see it is wearing a uniform that matches those of your team, yet it is not a human.”

Fuck. He’d been so careful, so cautious.

Something had felt off about the job from the minute Leon set boots on the ground outside the factory. Chris had assured him that it’d be smooth, he’d done it a hundred times before, there shouldn’t be any issues. It was a C-Virus outbreak for sure, but not the normal kind. Valhanian was working on vaccines and preventative medication, blockers for the immune system that could quickly and effectively obliterate the virus or prevent it from even gaining a hold on the system. The most common form was the standard strains that had a very similar effect on humans as the T-Virus did, which they were led to believe was the main focus of the factory - manufacturing and R&D for the ‘zombie’ strains. 

What they found waiting for them was most certainly not the standard C-Virus infected humans. 

Chris had brushed it off at the time, claiming that with how volatile the virus was, he wasn’t surprised that something had gone wrong and there were chrysalid variants in the facility.

Nothing’s without risk, something must have gone wrong, it’s not like we haven’t handled this sort of thing before.

Leon knew that there was no way in hell that a company with that much money in the game of vaccines would fuck around and find out - risking everything in the process. But it wasn’t worth arguing with Chris, he insisted that it wasn’t his job to worry about the science team’s side of things and that ‘Rebecca will figure it out.’ 

Chris was ever the optimist on his good days. Leon had seen too much to trust any corporation that invested in the field of medicine. You don’t get fission without fusion, and anyone who claimed that advancements in bio-organic warfare had no links to advancements in medicine, was a fool or a liar. Most likely both. 

Naturally, something went wrong on the job, sure he’d had a little ‘mutation’ incident, but Rebecca’s drugs worked a treat, they just took a while to fully kick in. 

.

“I don’t know what this is or what you’re trying to do, we don’t employ B.O.W’s as part of our operations, whatever you’re trying to claim with this is unfounded.” Chris responded in anger.

No no no you dumbass, don’t give it to them Chris!

“Mr. Redfield, I'm just being thorough.” Harker’s voice took the tone of a teacher reprimanding a student, “You’re no stranger to the industry, and I’m sure you understand we are very conscious and concerned about protecting our business. Incidents like this are of a high concern to us as the entire reason we brought the BSAA in to assist us was to stop a B.O.W incident.”

Chris glanced briefly at the BSAA staff seated around him, and Leon. Fear and panic reflected in his eyes, a silent cry for help. Leon could tell that Chris knew who was in the photograph and could only lie about it for so long before the game was given away.

Leon cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the sharks.

“Ms Harker I can assure you that Chris is just as shocked as you are, and that the BSAA operates at the highest level of-”

“Thank you for your assurance, Mr Kennedy,” Harker interrupted, her full attention snapping to Leon “but I believe you are not a member of the BSAA is that correct?”

There was a predatory look to her gaze. Leon’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yes, I’m temporarily assigned to assist them in operations regarding the C-Virus as I have first hand experience with it that has proven invaluable in us combatting further outbreaks.”

“I don’t doubt that Mr. Kennedy. I’m aware of your reputation and high standing. Our country has a lot to thank you for.” 

He shivered again. There was no genuinity to her tone.

“I just wish to express my concerns, as I feel we deserve an explanation to the security footage.”

Leon dug his fingers into his thigh, scrunching the fabric of his chinos, hands hidden under the table. Showing any public sign of fear or nerves would be his downfall.

“Trust is critical to any operation, but you all know this of course. How can we trust the BSAA after seeing this? How can you even trust yourselves?” 

Seeing a hint of a smile form at the edges of her mouth, Leon’s temper began to rise.

Chris began to speak, only to be cut off by Harker’s shrill tone.

“Have you considered that there may be individuals lying dormantly infected, unbeknownst to the world, the BSAA, even themselves?

Leon bit down on his tongue. 

“Perhaps there’s an infected individual sitting in this room with us right now.”

Chris went white and gripped the photograph tighter, holding himself back from instinctively looking away from Harker, he could see the bait now but it was too late.

“Perhaps it's someone not within the BSAA.” she trailed off softly as she shifted her sights from Chris to Leon. 

He felt the eyes of every member of the meeting shift to look at him in horror. 

[staticnight]

Target Practice - Chris Redfield x GN!BSAA!Reader

Sorry if this is terrible, I haven't written fics in a hot minute, and I also haven't written many x-readers. This was intended to be a male!reader, but I realised I hadn't used any gendered terms for the reader anyway.

pairing: Chris Redfield x Gender-Neutral Reader genre: fluff, one-shot word count: 615

   “Hey, Captain,” you greet the man, pulling off the ear muffs and setting down the gun. As Chris sets a hand gently on your shoulder. “Your aim’s getting better,” he says, inspecting the silhouette. Bullet holes sprinkled around the body, a few in the head and in the surrounding wall.

   “Can I show you how to hit headshots more accurately?” He asks, leaning close to you to hover his hand over the gun, shoulders almost touching. You inhale shakily, Chris’ gaze locked onto yours. “Yeah,” you say casually - well, tried to.

   Chris picks up the gun, and places it into your hands. “Got it?” He asks. You nod, and Chris moves behind you, hands sliding slightly downwards to rest over your hands as you hold the gun. “Hands still…”

   He teaches you how to land better headshots, and you try your best to listen to him despite the feeling of him pressed against your back, his arms resting on the sides of your own. You’d always found Chris attractive, the big strong captain of Alpha Team, Chris Redfield, but you’d never thought of acting on your feelings. No chance.

   “Okay, shoot,” Chris moves his hands away from yours. You pull the trigger and hit the silhouette clear in the head. You shoot a few more times, a clean headshot each time. You remove the now empty clip and put down the gun. Chris moves his hands to rest lightly on your arms, craning his head forward over your shoulder. Your breath hitches, Chris’s face once again close to yours. 

   “[Name],” Chris says softly, his eyes once again looking into yours.

   “Redfield,” you respond, matching his tone.

   “I’m not making you… uncomfortable? Am I?” He asks in a worried sort of voice, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. You shake your head; you’d never imagined him acting this way, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

   “Okay, good,” he says, taking a breath. He lifts his arms away and moves to stand in front of you. You have to look up slightly to look him in the eyes, but you find your eyes shifting to his lips. He notices.

   “[Name],” He says your name again. You look up at his eyes again, and Chris takes another breath. “I want to confess something,” you say, before Chris can say whatever he was going to say. He nods, and it’s your turn to breathe.

   “I’ve…” you pause, thinking of how to word this. “I’ve found you attractive for a… a while now. I wasn’t going to say anything, but then all of this happened just now, and,” you look at the ground. “I like you, and I ignored it because you’re my captain and all that, but I can’t take it anymore, I need to let you know,” you say in one breath, speaking fast. 

   Chris stares blankly for a moment, and you get worried. Did he not feel the same? Was he pulling some kind of fucked up joke just now? 

   Chris puts a hand on your shoulder, right next to your neck. He puts his other hand on your lower back, and in an instant, your worries were gone. He presses his lips softly on yours. You respond, putting your hands on each of his shoulders and kissing gently back. It’s a short kiss, pulling away from each other after a few seconds. Chris checks his watch.

   “Text me in the morning, if you want,” he says, smiling. “Will do,” you respond, smiling back at him.

[dracoqueen22]

hmmm, for a prompt:

Piers Nivans going to the gym with Chris and trying to be subtle about his admiration as Chris works out.

(yes I'm still thinking about it)

Piers is in the zone, mind thankfully blank, and breathing perfectly in control when he hears the door thud open behind him. It’s just after midnight in the BSAA gym, and usually, Piers has the place to himself. Everyone else would rather be out and about on a Friday night, then cooped up in headquarters in the gym. 

It’s probably Marco. He’s the only one who has even less of a life than Piers. 

There’s movement in his peripheral vision – the visitor taking the treadmill next to Piers – and he glances over for a quick confirmation. His rhythm stumbles. 

It’s not Marco. 

“Oh, uh, hey, Captain,” Piers says, trying to sound cool and collected and not at all inwardly freaking out. Chris’ wearing shorts that barely brush mid-thigh and a tank top that’s two sizes too small. “Didn’t think you’d be here so late.” 

Chris gives him one of those gorgeous half-smiles that lights up his eyes. “Am I out past my bedtime?” he asks. 

Piers laughs, and hopes it doesn’t sound as awkward as it feels. “Of course not. Just surprised is all. Usually, I’m the only one here.” He slows to a stop, scrubbing a hand through his hair. 

“Do you prefer to be alone?” Chris asks. He hasn’t climbed up on the treadmill yet, like he’s genuinely going to turn around and leave if Piers asks him, too. Because that’s the kind of guy Chris Redfield is. 

Good to the last drop. 

Also, it’s a tough question. Piers absolutely doesn’t want Chris to go anywhere, but he also doesn’t know how well he’s going to focus if his captain is right beside him, sweating and grunting and looking too fuckable. 

“Nah,” Piers says, the demon whispering just how much he doesn’t want to miss out on the sight of Chris Redfield, covered in sweat, wearing those too-short shorts. “Don’t mind the company if it’s yours, sir.” 

Chris huffs a laugh. “We’re off duty,” he says as he climbs onto the treadmill, tucking water bottle and phone into the holders. “You can call me Chris.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Piers offers an unsteady smile. 

Chris shrugs and powers on the treadmill, plugging in all the settings he prefers. “Suit yourself.” 

Piers does the same, getting back to work, trying to focus on his breathing, his pace. If he runs and doesn’t have to think, if he lets the rhythm pound through his feet, it’s like meditation. His mind drifts to nowhere and nothing. 

Not tonight though. 

Not with Chris Redfield a pace beside him, muscles flexing, body moving, a thin sheen of sweat building after ten minutes. He’s focused, sometimes typing on the phone with one hand, oblivious to Piers tracking a bead of sweat down the curve of his neck until it vanishes into the drooping dip of the tank. 

Christ, why does Chris always have to buy clothes two sizes too small? 

Piers swallows and stares at the readout on his own treadmill. He’s been at pace for fifteen minutes, more than warmed up, so he steps away, wipes his face. Normally he’d go into some light sparring with the dummy, but the LAT machine is right there, and he’d have a great view of Chris’ ass. 

He shouldn’t. 

But he does. He sits his ass at the LAT machine and starts to work, heart in his throat and mouth dry as Chris runs. His ass is perfectly framed by the taut stretch of his gym shorts, the way they ride up the back of his thighs. 

They’ve sparred a few times, Piers and Chris. Friendly wrestling matches out on the mats or testing spars between a captain and his subordinate to keep their skills fresh. Piers has been beneath Chris and on top of Chris and caught by Chris, so he knows how all those muscles feel. How strong Chris’ legs are, and how it’s like being in a cage when those thick arms wrap around you. 

Oh, fuck. 

Piers lets the LAT machine rest and leans forward, elbows on his knees, trying to catch a breath. He’s dizzy. This is such a bad idea. He should have said no. 

The rhythm of the treadmill slows and stops. Chris hops down, wipes sweat from his face, sucks down half the water bottle. Some of it escapes, trickles out the corner of his mouth, and Piers’ gaze is glued on that spill. It soaks the top of Chris’ white tank, and Piers swears he can see Chris’ nipples through the thin fabric. 

“You already done?” Chris asks as he moves to the bench and starts loading an ungodly amount of weight on the bar. 

“Yeah,” Piers says, though he’s nowhere near done. He didn’t even finish a set. 

“Spot me?” Chris asks as he lays on the bench, feet to either side of it, thighs spread. Piers’ can’t even form the spit to swallow. “I’ll return the favor.” 

“Sure,” Piers says, and embarrassingly, his voice cracks. He clears his throat and stands, moving to the head of the bench like a good spotter would. 

From here, he can look down the whole length of Chris’ body, and it’s a dizzying view. The tank has slipped a little, revealing one peach-colored nipple. A dusting of dark hair decorates Chris’ chest and disappears behind the white cotton. The gym shorts lay flat against his groin, but don’t do anything to hide his package. 

Christ. Piers isn’t going to survive this. 

“Thanks,” Chris says with a friendly wink. He looks up as he wraps his fingers around the bar. “Hope it’s not too much for you.” 

It’s an ungodly amount honestly, but there’s no way Piers is going to say that. “It’s fine,” he says, and Chris’ eyes sparkle. 

He starts to press the weights, and Piers kicks into automatic mode. He spots Chris without thinking, keep the captain safe chanting at the back of his mind, like it always does when he’s covering Chris’ back. 

But his eyes wander. Up and down, from bare ankles to bare legs to bare knees, to partially bare thighs, all dusted with hair. To the space between thighs where Piers could easily fit himself and rub his cheek on the soft dick beneath. To where Piers could sit, on those wide hips, his own legs splayed wide as he ground down and Chris fucked up into him. How wide those big hands might feel on his waist. 

That’s dangerous so Piers drags his gaze up higher, and that’s no safer. That taut tank hides nothing, not the planes of Chris’ belly, soft and muscled, or the swell of his pecs, strong but pillow soft. Piers’ mouth wets itself at the thought of tasting Chris’ nipples, making him moan or pant. Of bending over to kiss Chris, and taste the heat of his mouth. 

He wants to sit on the space at the end of the bench, put his mouth on Chris right now, so that when he leaves tonight, it’s with the taste of Chris lingering on his tongue. 

“Piers?” 

Piers blinks and is suddenly aware of the heat on his face, the red flush down his neck and chest. Chris looks up at him, at Piers’ iron grip on the bar Chris is trying to lift, and embarrassment makes his ears go hot. 

“S-sorry, Captain,” Piers stutters, begging to God that his shorts hide his boner. “Guess I’m more tired than I thought. Raincheck on that favor?” 

Chris pushes the bar back onto the rest, and Piers hastily steps away, turning his hips out of view. “You work too hard.” He sits up, twisting to keep Piers in his peripheral vision. “Go get some rest, kid.” 

Kid!? Oh, the indignity. 

“Funny. We all say the same thing about you, sir,” Piers says. He backs away, step by step, veins running hot and cock filling at the weight of Chris’ scrutiny. 

Chris laughs. “Fair enough.” He grabs his water bottle and takes a swig, toasting Piers with it. “I’ll take that raincheck then. Get some sleep.” 

Sleep is the last thing on Piers’ mind. 

“Yes, sir.” He shoots off a playful salute and makes a hasty escape, his heart hammering, his cock throbbing, and the star of every wet dream sitting there, glistening with sweat. 

Fuck his life. 

Piers skips the shower. No way he can lather up knowing Chris is a wall and an unlocked door away. Not knowing that Chris will be using this shower minutes after he does. 

Nope. 

Piers is going straight to his bunk. 

***

[aceghosts]

Welcome! I'm Kate (They/them), and I run this hodgepodge of a blog. I mainly post about video games and OCs, but I'll reblog anything that catches my eye. This blog is 18+, so minors please don't follow.

You can also find me on:

AO3

Spotify

Pillowfort (I don't really use this, but if you're a mutual/follower and use it regularly, let me know and I can try to be more active.)

Discord (If you're a mutual, free to ask, but be warned, I rarely use it.)

You can also be tagged for the following things by liking these posts: tag games, edits/screenshots, writing (sfw), and writing (ns/fw).

Below the cut are important links for my creations and OCs.

MY CREATIONS

Writing | Edits | Fanmixes | FC5 Screenshots | CP2077 Screenshots

ONGOING FANFICTIONS

OH THE RECKONING BEGINS (FC5)

Summary: Five years ago, Junior Deputy Blue Murphy disappeared with Joseph Seed at the final standoff, only to be found a year later in Dutch's bunker. Now, five years later from that final standoff, Blue Murphy and Hope County have moved on with their lives. However, new sinister forces threaten Blue's life, and they will have to rely on the man who started this all to survive: Joseph Seed.

Tag | Playlist

DEAD MAN WALKING (RE)

Summary: In February 2005, Captain Hunter Delaney is tragically killed in action on a BSAA mission in Northern Canada. After their death, scientists and BSAA agents related to the mission start to die. Albert Wesker intends to find out who is killing them, hoping to use this stranger to his advantage.

Tag

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

BLUE MURPHY

Main Tag | Writing | Inspiration | Playlist

Ships: x Joseph Seed | x Grace Armstrong | x Bruce Wayne

COMMANDER ROONEY SHEPARD

Main Tag | CP2077 Verse | Writing | Inspiration | ME Playlist

Ships: x Thane Krios | x Yorinobu Arasaka

Cyberpunk 2077 Masterpost

HUNTER DELANEY

Main Tag | Writing | Inspiration | Playlist

Ship: x Albert Wesker

SAWYER BEAUMONT

Main Tag | Writing | Inspiration | Playlist

Ship: x Adam Jensen

BLAKE MADDOX

Main Tag | Writing | Inspiration | Playlist

RILEY CALLAHAN

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Ship: x Ingo

EMERSON WRIGHT

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Ship: x Ortega

BELLAMY A.K.A. DALLAS WRIGHT

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Ship: x Ulysses

[marislittleworld]

"I want us to be a real family, dad"

WARNING: father Chris Redfield (daughter OC included, the mother is Jill Valentine because heheh Valenfield)

One month after the bio-terrorist attack in New York in July 2014, Ana is now sitting on the couch as she looks at her clean knife, but she sees the blood of her closest relatives and friends. She didn't have much of a choice, it was her or them. She knew this day would come, but she didn't know it would affect her emotionally so much.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, revealing it to be Chris Redfield. He was without his bulletproof vest, he wasn't holding a gun and his face had a blank expression. He avoided eye contact with his daughter, and she realized the moment and got up from the couch.

"can we" Chris tries to make conversation, "can we talk? For a second?" Ana freezes on her way to the kitchen, she lets out a sigh and finally looks at her father. She leans against a kitchen counter.

"Okay then. Let's talk" Ana says in an ironic tone

Chris looks surprised by his daughter's attitude, in fact the two were never good at personal father-daughter conversations, they were good at hand-to-hand combat, but talking?

Sometimes Chris misses 5-year-old Ana, he wanted to go back in time.

"so?" Ana catches her father's attention

"How is school?" Those were the only words that appeared in Chris's mind

"yeah, well... normal I guess. Just without a zombie around"

"oh haha" Chris gives a fake, disheartening laugh like it's a bad joke

Chris turns his back and walks to the window, he rests his forearms on the wood while Ana watches him and lets out another sigh.

"When was the last time we had a real conversation?" Chris asks

"I don't know, all I can remember is you and mom being too busy with your work--"

"daughter, please"

Ana's eyes widened when she heard her father call her 'daughter' and not 'Ana', the teenager thought about touching her father's shoulder, but she hesitates, she turns her back and crosses her arms, holding back the tears. Chris turns to face his daughter.

"please look at me..." the tone of Chris's voice was very different from what Ana was used to hearing, usually he spoke in a tone as if he were still working as captain of the BSAA, but here. .. He has a sad and calm voice.

She then decides to look at him and she sees the expression on her father's face, his eyebrows were not furrowed, she sees that her father really wants to start a normal conversation with her, but he doesn't know how. .

"how was work?" she asks

"disheartening" he responds

Chris approached his daughter, feeling the need to break the invisible barrier between them. He knew this was his chance to connect with her, to really connect.

"Disheartening?" Ana repeated, frowning. "You always say that saving lives is what motivates you."

"Yes, it is," Chris replied, feeling a weight in his words. "But sometimes, the cost is too high.

And now... seeing you here, with the weight of what happened in New York... it hits me harder than any mission."

Ana looked away, gripping the knife tighter. "Now you care about me, don't you?", she massages her forehead before speaking. "Dad, I've always respected your and mom's work, and what I can't stand is the thought of thinking that my own parents don't care about me, but what made me love you was that family. They made me see the importance of your job, telling me that you and mom are like superheroes in the stories I read. They made me love you."

Chris felt a lump in his throat. He got even closer and, carefully, took the knife from Ana's hands, placing it aside. He pulled her into a hug, something he hadn't done in a long time.

"Ana, I know we failed in many ways, especially in being there for you. But I want you to know that we always love you and we always care about you. Sometimes work consumes us, but that never means you're not important to us."

Ana felt tears running down her face, but she didn't move away. She allowed herself to feel the comfort of her father's embrace, a comfort she hadn't felt in a long time.

"I just want us to be a real family, Dad," she whispered, still through tears.

"And we will be, daughter. We will get through this together," Chris replied, his voice cracking with emotion. "I promise I'll be more present. I promise we'll talk more and be a real family."

And there, in that moment of vulnerability and honesty, father and daughter began to rebuild their relationship, brick by brick, word by word. The pain was still present, but hope for a better future now shone for both of them.

[sizzlinbaconpeach]

Did you see that? 😩

https://twitter.com/PrCat88/status/1695068296221974749?s=19

The link is to a Twitter post that states:

"Chris cried when Piers died. He didn't when Jill had seemingly fallen to her death. That should tell you something."

Please do not take this as an attack on any particular ship. I'm not here to start any wars. I'm merely sharing my thoughts and feelings on the ship that I do enjoy, and trying to politely discuss that and share it with others (and answer this message). I please ask that we have no heated messages in the comments or disrespectful reblogging - please only share positivity or your own thoughts and opinions in a non-hostile manner. That way this can stay peaceful, thank you ^_^

While you could certainly argue, that at face value, Chris might have shown more emotion during Piers' sacrifice than Jill's - those two events happen under different circumstances and at different paces. Jill's sacrifice is sudden and unexpected - Chris is going to be shocked more than anything at first. Piers and Chris actually have some back and forth discussion and/or struggle before Piers finally makes the choice.

Piers

Chris was desperate to try and save Piers - this young protege who was to take his place in the BSAA - the only remaining soldier in his initial squad. I think they both knew, deep down, that Piers had a slim chance of survival. But Chris was going to fight for that chance. He does his best to keep encouraging Piers, because he doesn't want another casualty on his watch. So, of course Chris is going to have a lot of emotion surrounding Piers' sacrifice. It's another victim that he can't save. The whole time they are racing to escape, Chris seems to be trying to convince himself, more than anyone, that both of them can make it out alive. Chris was supposed to train all those men and watch them grow and fight bio-terrorism, alongside and in his place. But instead, Chris watches them all die. He carries a heavy guilt with him, as he was the captain that failed them. This tragedy is already weighing heavily on Chris through the whole game. And Piers was a young man, in the prime of his life. Struck down by the horrors of bio-terrorism - the very thing Chris has been so vehemently fighting. Chris' head was probably spinning as it kept telling him something he didn't want to face, thrumming in his ear, 'it's too late. You failed again', as he helped a struggling Piers continue forward. The shove into the pod was the final confirmation. 'They're all dead'. So yeah, I could see why he'd get pretty teary eyed. Chris abandons his retirement plans and eats a steak in honor. IMO, Chris reacts like someone who grieves for a comrade. A horribly unfortunate and bitter moment, but lest it be in vain.

Jill

Before her sacrifice, Chris and Jill seemed like an unstoppable duo. They faced many challenges, but were ultimately the victors in their battles. They survived the mansion, they gathered info on Umbrella, founded the BSAA, protected the Mediterranean, and even destroyed Umbrella together. They were partners through it all.

So tracking down Spencer to his European mansion was supposed to be the same, right? They were going to bring him down and get information on Wesker, too! Right? It was just the next step to rid the world of bio-terrorism. Right? ...right? But then, unexpectedly, they found Wesker standing over Spencer's corpse in the library. And he moved lightning fast, too. Soon, Chris was dangling in the air as the red eyes locked on to him just like the iron grip around his collar. This was it. Chris was staring his death in the face. But that cry of desperation from the familiar voice on the other side of the room saved him. He turned to the smashed window to reach out for his falling partner, but her form disappeared into the abyss below. The only thing that he could do was bellow her name in anguish. His partner! His bestest friend in the whole-wide world! JiiiilllLLLL!

He didn't take any new partners after her fall and threw himself into work (part of me thinks he was doing that in honor of Jill and to numb the pain of her missing - you can't grieve if you're focusing on other things. Jill even mentions in an email to Barry that she didn't get a funeral - now who would have been responsible for that, I wonder? Maybe the man who refused to believe she was dead? ...Maybe).

Also, this silly precious himbo thought Wesker was dead but never gave up hope that Jill was alive. He kept his ears and eyes peeled for her for almost 3 years! Curiously, he requested an assignment with BSAA Africa, but he wouldn't elaborate on the reasons why. We come to find out in RE5, it was to follow a lead about Jill.

Throughout RE5, Chris is focused on finding Jill. He demands answers from a dying Irving. He demands to know of Jill's whereabouts multiple times from Excella. She even mocks him for it. 'Jill, Jill, Jill. You sound like a broken record. Just as single-minded as he [Wesker] said.' And when Jill is finally revealed to him, she is his main focus. He didn't want to leave her side when he was finally reunited with her, despite Wesker's imminent plans of total cataclysm. His priority was Jill. It wasn't until she urged him on that he, very reluctantly, left her side. And this is Chris Redfield! The man who doesn't let anything distract him from the mission - anything but Jill - that is. :P IMO, Chris reacts like someone who is missing a piece of himself, desperately searching for that missing part to feel whole again.

So the immediate reaction is different because both sacrifices were different.

Chris knew there was a chance of Piers' death the moment he was infected. Combined with the other trauma in RE6, it was no wonder that Chris was torn up over the death of this young man (practically a kid!) with so much potential.

With Jill, her 'death' catches him completely off-guard. He starts questioning if he can even fight bio-terrorism anymore at the start of RE5. He can't believe she is dead. He can't move on from her, and her loss is eating him up inside. The word partner is enough to trigger pain. It's only when he saves Jill and destroys Wesker that his resolve returns.

Both Jill and Piers sacrifice themselves, but both have different instigators, time-frames, circumstances, and ultimately, Chris reactions.