#re8 chris redfield

[kuutakoi]

Something I did with no effort at all... I hate drawing hands btw🙃

[ficfield]

It’s Just Allergies, I Swear

Request: For the requests, if you’re still taking them. Chris who comes down with something (a cold???) and reader takes care of him, fussing over him even though he’s in denial that he actually got sick.

Chris Redfield x reader  word count: 430

Chris Redfield was a lot of things.

A seasoned BSAA operative, a fearless leader, built like a damn tank. But subtle? Not exactly.

Which is why when he stomped into the cabin that afternoon, shoulders slumped ever so slightly and sniffling like an old radiator, you immediately clocked something was off.

“You okay?” you asked, eyeing him from your perch on the couch.

“I’m fine,” he grunted, brushing off snow and what was definitely not sweat but suspiciously forehead-glossy. “Just cold out.”

You raised a brow. “You mean temperature-wise or physically? ‘Cause one of those is kind of ironic for a guy named Redfield.”

He gave you a weak chuckle, weak. Red flag number two.

Then he started to take off his jacket and stopped halfway to sneeze. Loudly.

“Bless you,” you said pointedly.

“I’m not sick,” he said just as pointedly.

You crossed your arms. “Okay, cool. Then you won’t mind if I take your temperature and maybe dump about six blankets on you.”

Chris made a face like you’d suggested a full-on medical examination in a minefield. “I don’t need.”

“You’re burning up, Chris. Your nose is red, your eyes are glassy, and I just watched you almost fall asleep standing up.”

“I didn’t.”

“You sneezed on your own arm, babe. I love you, but I’m not cuddling you if you’re a walking virus cloud.”

Chris sighed, finally shrugging off the rest of his gear. “It’s just…probably allergies.”

“To what? Clean air and rest?”

You gently steered him toward the couch despite his grumbles. He didn’t even resist that much, just sort of slumped into the cushions like a very tired bear. You draped a quilt over him, then pressed the back of your hand to his forehead.

“Chris,” you said quietly. “You’ve been running around in freezing temps, soaked in snow, barely sleeping post-mission. You’ve got a cold. It’s okay to rest.”

He blinked up at you, the faintest pout forming. “You’re babying me.”

“You deserve to be babied every once in a while,” you said with a soft smile, brushing his damp hair back. “Now drink this,” you added, handing him a mug of hot lemon and honey. “And let me take care of you for a change.”

Chris sighed but took the mug. “Only ‘cause it’s you.”

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.”

That night, Chris fell asleep with his head in your lap, snoring softly through a very congested nose, and clutching a tissue box like it was mission gear. You ran your fingers through his hair, smiling to yourself

Stubborn as hell. But yours.

[heraxic]

re8 greek mythology design collection

[larvamars]

morning with Chris 🌤

[th-xeno]

so why exactly did Chris break up with BSAA? it was probably something insignificant :) yeah :))

also page 4 is probably the best comic page i've ever drawn

part 2

[xaerainy]

cover 'em up 🙄

original

[zarstarss]

americans when the village residents are getting evil or something

[seraphdesire]

How Chris wanted it to go when he told Ethan to go home and refused to elaborate on the situation

[totallytoby22]

reposting him because im mad

[bazingax5]

i hate shoes

when i saw this i immediately thought of chris idk why

[illalsbb]

˗ˏˋ ꒰🖤꒱ ˎˊ˗

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

[alexrainbow]

Yesterday I finished RE: Village and noticed a lot of white fur on Chris' black turtleneck. Maybe he has a white cat named Albert 🤔🤭

[ficfield]

"Operational Control”

 Request:Can you do Chris being a pantie thief 🤭 I feel like it would take it to his missions to have a piece of you around… vendetta maybe? Idk Pairing: Chris Redfield (Vendetta-era) x BSAA!Reader Setting: BSAA HQ, late night in Chris’s office Word Count: 423

It was supposed to be a debrief.

Just a post-mission sitrep. You, him, a few folders. Maybe some coffee. Certainly not the whole “being bent over his desk” situation you just found yourself in.

But now, standing half-dressed and breathless, you’re trying to pull yourself together in the hazy aftermath, tugging your shirt back into place, fingers fumbling with the buttons. Your skin’s still tingling, your hair a mess, and Chris?

Chris is leaning back in his chair, arms folded, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“I should report you for this,” you mutter, grabbing your jacket. 

He quirks an eyebrow. “For what? Debriefing an agent thoroughly?”

You shoot him a look. “You’re insufferable.”

“You weren’t saying that five minutes ago.”

You toss him a middle finger, which only earns you that damn smirk again. But as you reach for your underwear, your last piece of dignity, Chris’s hand beats you to it.

He snatches the delicate scrap of fabric off the arm of the chair and casually tucks it into his desk drawer.

“…Excuse me?”

“They’re mine now,” he says simply.

“Chris.”

He meets your stare without flinching, eyes dark, unbothered. “Call it a souvenir.”

“You are not keeping my panties.”

“Oh, but I am.” He leans forward, forearms on his desk, voice dropping into that deep, quiet, dangerous place. “You walked in here like an agent. But you’re leaving as mine. So yeah. These?” He taps the drawer. “They’re mine now.”

You just blink at him, heat rushing up your neck.

“I’ve got a meeting in twenty,” he continues, stretching his arms above his head with a low groan, “so unless you want to explain to Rebecca and Leon why you’re still in my office half-naked, I’d get moving.”

You scowl at him, snatching your pants and pulling them up. No underwear. Great.

“This is harassment.”

“This is foreplay,” he corrects smoothly. “And a warning. You think I’m done with you?” He stands, steps in close, too close, and brushes his knuckles under your chin. “I’ll be collecting more next time.”

Your breath catches, and Chris watches you struggle to hold eye contact. Watches your thighs press together slightly. Watches you not protest.

You glare, but it’s weak. “I hate you.”

“No,” he says, grin turning wicked. “You like me. A lot.”

And as you storm out of his office, pantiles, flustered, and absolutely ruined, you hear him call after you:

“Try not to run into too many people on the way out. Wouldn’t want anyone noticing you’re walking funny, agent.”

[heraxic]

the full set (re8 swap au)

[another-fanfic-haven]

i need him to give me a hug so tight and strong it will break my neck and back

[th-xeno]

postcanon!au, in which Chris tries to live his life, but his past will always find him

prologue part 1 | part 2