#resident evil krauser

[doisnuois]

here’s the art piece from my video

[longingforthecosmos]

anything can be gay sex if you're correct about what gay sex is. especially knife fights.

[korkusts]

My sillies

[sherzdell]

[peachvilleprincess]

WESKER TOOK KRAUSER’S KNIFE ALONG WITH HIS BODY! KRAUSER MENTION IN DEAD BY DAYLIGHT!

[yawnderu]

Your personal thoughts on titties fuck?

No characters or anything? Just MY personal thoughts?? 😭

It's hot af imo, ways to be intimate without penetration are pretty nice and fun :3 (can u tell i haven't slept with anyone since like October)

Speaking of it, I bet Simon, Nikto, König and Astarion enjoy those a lot. And of course, the disgusting men: Krauser and Heisenberg.♡♡

[loboto-bear]

Hello Resident Evil Nation, do we fuck with Krauser or no?

[lilith0fthevalley]

To Haunt A Monarch {Ghost!Krauser x Fem!Reader}

Content Warning: This story contains body horror, psychological manipulation, disturbing imagery, and themes of identity loss, trauma, and possession. It features violence, death, and unsettling behavior, as well as gaslighting and loss of control. Reader discretion is advised.

~~~

Jack Krauser is dead. Has been for years. 

You remember the day you learned of his death, the shock settling in your chest like a stone. He was someone you’d worked with on countless missions, someone you respected. To hear that he’d been taken out by someone he once mentored was a shame. The virus he’d injected himself with—his attempt to artificially enhance his strength—only made things worse. But that was his choice, not yours.

Regardless, Sergeant Major Jack Krauser is dead.

.

.

.

So why is it that his image is haunting you?

For weeks now, the memory of your old mission partner, Jack Krauser has been infecting your dreams, lurking in the back of your mind like an illness you can’t shake. Handprints on the condensation of your bedroom window. The symbol of his knife in the steam on your bathroom mirror after a shower. Even small things—creaks in the floorboards that sound too much like footsteps, the fleeting shape of his silhouette in the corner of your vision. 

No... Jack Krauser is dead.

You're jolted from your thoughts by Alex, your fiancé, placing a hand on your knee. ‘Shit. That's right. I was talking.’ You blink, refocusing on him. "What do you mean you want to skip movie night?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow. "What could you possibly be doing instead, my love?"

Alex barely looks up from tying his boots, his fingers moving with a practiced, almost mechanical precision. "Just gotta hit the gym," he mutters, his voice lower, rougher than usual. That's new.

You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. "The gym? Since when do you skip cuddles and popcorn for lifting weights? Who even are you?"

His movements stutter for a second before he exhales through his nose and looks up at you. For a brief moment, something flickers in his gaze—not annoyance, not guilt, but something cold and unreadable. He smirks, but it’s not the goofy, playful smile you’re accustomed to, No… It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Maybe… I just want to be stronger."

Your stomach tightens. Alex has never been obsessed with fitness. Sure, he’s always been active, but this—this obsession, these late nights, sudden diet changes, the way he looks at you—it’s all wrong. And then there are the dreams. Whispers in the dark. A voice that sounds like Alex, but you know it’s not. The voice is deeper, older, raspier. It’s paired with a presence that hovers over you. Too close for comfort and breathing down your neck. 

You miss me, don’t you? 

A shiver runs down your spine.

Maybe it's stress. Maybe Alex is just going through a phase. Or maybe—just maybe—something else is looking back at you through his eyes…

You blink, shaking off the ridiculous and unsettling thoughts. ‘Bad brain! No more horror movies or games for a while!!’ you scold yourself before replying to your fiancé. "Alright... I can push it off for next time," you relent, wrapping your blanket tighter around you. Disappointment gnaws at you, but you don’t protest.

Alex’s smirk falters, just for a second. It’s like he’s testing you, gauging your reaction. Then he exhales, rolls his shoulders, and stands. Taller than you remember. Broader, heavier, filling more space than he should. “Atta girl,” he murmurs, ruffling your hair. It’s teasing, but condescending, like he’s above you now.

He grabs his keys, phone, wallet and heads for the door. The weight of his boots thuds against the floor as he walks. Your stomach churns. Something is amiss. Your Alex—the man who would’ve stayed with you, who used to make you laugh with his silly movie references—would’ve noticed your disappointment. But this version of him barely looks back. When he finally does, standing at the door, his lips curl into…something that isn’t quite a smile.

"You’ll be proud of me…  soon enough," he says, then walks out.

Left in a daze, you find yourself upstairs in the guest bedroom, staring at the open closet. Inside are remnants of the past—memories you’ve been too lazy to pack away. You pull down boxes, letting the memories flood back: your first basic training, graduation, missions, promotions. And then... the first mission with Jack.

You stop at a photo of him, his arm draped over your shoulder. He was a giant compared to you. A pang of nostalgia hits, but you force it aside, continuing to sift through the boxes. You find an old windbreaker with your code name embroidered on it: Monarch. Smiling, you trace your thumb over the letters. So many memories tied to that name… 

But that’s a time you’ve moved past.

Then you feel it. A sharp pain in your finger. You curse and pull your hand away, blood dripping into the box. You hurry to the bathroom to clean it up, bandage your hand, and return to the box. This time, you poke through with more care, and that's when you see it—Krauser's uniform. Pants. Compression shirt. That fucking beret. And his knife.

"Ah, so you're the fucker that cut me," you mutter, picking up the knife with care. It’s cold in your hand, the last real piece of him you have. You shake your head, plucking up the beret too, scrutinizing them. ‘I’ll just keep these two. There’s no reason to hold onto everything else.’ You set them aside and stand to toss the rest of his things out.

Downstairs, the door slams. "Back," Alex’s voice drifts up. He sounds hoarse.

You frown, stepping toward the banister. "Hey, sweet man!" you call out. He looks up, a small grin pulling at his lips. "There she is." His voice is rougher, colder.

"How was your workout?" you ask, bracing against the railing.

"Fine, I guess," he shrugs, holding a white plastic bag—one you didn’t see when he left.

"You stop somewhere on the way home?" You gesture to the bag.

He stares at it for a moment, then shrugs again. "Nah. Just cleaned out my car. You know how I am." His tone is flat, drained. "I’m beat, so I’m gonna shower and turn in."

You blink, thrown off by the sudden dismissal, but wave it off. You’ll talk about your closet cleanout tomorrow.

Days pass, and the strange happenings around the house only escalate. The atmosphere feels off, like the walls are watching you. Even Alex is different. More muscular. Which, sure, you’re not complaining about that, but its suddenness is strange.

Today, you decide to clean the house to clear your head. As you open the bathroom cabinet on Alex’s side, you find a receipt for hair bleach. A frown pulls at your lips. ’Did I buy this? No, I haven’t used box bleach in years.’ Then you remember—it’s under his side of the sink. ’Did… Did Alex buy this?’

You hear a noise downstairs and lunge to your bedside table to grab your retired, but trusty service weapon. Silently, you strain your ears for the sound. Footsteps? Maybe an animal? A tree branch? You can’t place it. It’s storming outside, but it sounds too familiar... Too deliberate. Maybe you’re just letting the poor decision of having a horror movie marathon get to you too much. Ghosts aren’t real. Everything happens for a reason. 

Shaking it off, you open the drawer at your bedside table to put your pistol away—but the knife and beret aren’t there anymore…

A cold panic rises in your chest.

You rush downstairs, calling out. "Alex?"

There’s no answer.

You grab your phone and dial his number. It rings once, then he answers with a voice that makes your blood run cold. "Yeah? You need something, sweetheart?" His tone is smooth, but there’s something wrong—predatory.

"Alex, did you go through my bedside table?" You demand, panic seeping into your words. "There’s a red beret and- and a long knife missing... Please, please tell me you’ve seen them."

There’s a pause, then a low, raspy chuckle.

"Missing, huh? I haven’t touched anything in that drawer that wasn’t mine." His voice drops, and you hear the faintest smile in his words. You can feel your blood rushing in your ears.

"Don’t worry, babe. I’ll take good care of 'em. You don’t need those old memories anymore."

You freeze, the air in your lungs suddenly cold. 

"You’ll see me soon enough. Don’t you want that... Monarch?"

Your blood runs cold. That isn’t Alex.

You hang up and sprint for your emergency bag, grabbing your things and running for the door. You have to get out. Have to leave. Have to escape. The ‘flight’ in fight or flight has become your master.

When you reach your car, keys in hand, you hear a voice.

"Leaving so soon?"

Your stomach twists. Don’t look. Don’t acknowledge him.

But you turn. And you wish you hadn’t.

There, standing in front of you, is what’s left of your fiancé. Blue eyes empty, hair military-short, wearing Krauser’s beret. The same imposing figure. But most of all, you see the bloody gash at the corner of his lip, still fresh. In his hand, the knife. His knife. It’s still dripping with viscera—Blood and tissue cling to the blade like a stain.

Alex Krauser laughs, the sound that used to comfort you now a chilling rasp.

"What’s wrong, Monarch?” He mocks in a low, devoid tone.

.

.

.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

Like What You See? Come check out my Masterlist!

[greenteasnoothie]

I feel like Krauser would be so dry when texting anyone, he just gets to the point 💔

[vanillanecromancer]

Literally just mediocre sketches of Krauser and Luis :D

[ko-garashi]

I have an opinion that this cowboy and local bounty hunter always takes payment in advance (and has "conflicts" with the "pretty boy" deputy sheriff... Hell yeah) 🐍

[curio-z]

Making a big fat standee of my bioterrorist pookiebear

[illusivesoulgaming]

Resident Evil 4 - Krauser's Weapons Loadout in Mercenaries Mode

[sftandwet]

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ “𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝒖𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒙𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆”

rule I. i don't write stories that involve/or are : incest or stepcest, pedophilia, or adult x minor, non-consensual, or for minor characters

rule II. this list/profile has history nsfw : smut : pwp ! minors do not consume this content, early consumption of pornography can harm them in the future .

𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄 ★ 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒��. link 4 u, baby

recent works. Secretary 2.0 ⠀ “ Come back to me, please.⠀ “ Older boyfriend ⠀ “ Pretty when u cry

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 .ᐟ

come back to me, please : mdni ─ adult only Leon ID

older leon headcanons: mdni ─ adult only Leon ID

secretary leon! Au : mdni ─ adult only leon re2 au

secretary leon! 2.0 : mdni ─ adult only! leon re2 au

after missions : sfw ─ free for all ! leon re6 husband

sitting down : mdni ─ adult only! RE.BOYS mult.

being yours : mdni ─ adult only! leon re2r au

pretty when u cry : mdni ─ adult only ! leon

do you miss me? : mdni ─ adult only ! leon re2 au

hot day : mdni ─ adult only ! chris vendetta

hungry for life : mdni ─ adult only! leon DI

job partner : sfw ─ free for all carlos olli. re3

holiday : mdni ─ adult only ! krauser re4r

bf headcanons : mdni ─ adult only

needy : mdni ─ adult only! carlos re3r

imagine leon : mdni ─ adult only ! leon re4r

SFTANDWET .ᐟ TUMBLR.COM ! DONT COPY/TRANSLATE

[violentjo]

Long ass Jack Krauser rant??

Now don’t get me wrong I love Luis guys but his death could never make me hate Krauser, because out of all the resident evil villains he just has such a valid reason to be pissed. He was ruined during a mission that was kept completely secret and abandoned by the higher ups after his arm was torn apart and he was no longer “useful”.

We see training scenes between him and Leon and during RE4 which kind of paint him as a bad dude, but when you finally kill Krauser you get an achievement “you used to be a good guy”. It just further solidifies his former bond with Leon and how although it’s needed his death has Leon conflicted.

The first fight scene right after Luis’s stabbing is so impactful he just seems like a complex man who’s gone mad, Jack has this sort of jealousy towards Leon for continuing to be seen as useful but also recognizes that Leon’s life isn’t ideal because he’s had no choice but to stay useful. His want for power is an understandable driving factor because of how he was treated once he became less powerful.

That scene where Leon kneels next to him and takes his knife is just so profound to me, Krauser just comes off as such a desperate and abandoned man in the end. I love him so much.😭

I don’t expect anyone to read this 🤗

[sherzdell]

Heeeere we go 🏃🏃🏃