Clairedelrey

i write... somtimes 18 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

[laurenillustrated]

Pride and Prejudice Art

A few recent scene redraws from the 2005 Pride and Prejudice film! One of my favorite movies ever.

Prints available in my shop!

I’ve been on a big Jane Austen kick this year and currently reading my way through all the books! So far I’ve read Emma, Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion, and I’m almost finished with Northanger Abbey!

[honeybeefawn]

imagine being éowyn in the lord of the rings trilogy. your uncle the king is being mind controlled by an evil wizard until said evil wizard's cooler version shows up and frees him. he is accompanied by an elf, a dwarf, and the hottest guy you've ever met. the hot guy also happens to be 87 years old and maybe still not over his immortal elf girlfriend but he respects and listens to you so you're shooting your shot. your geriatric hotguy situationship turns you down the night before the biggest battle ever then goes ghost hunting in the mountains. you decide to go to battle because you'll either help save your people or die in a really cool and honorable way. you then kill middle earth satan's number one henchman with the power of loophole and being a woman (you are also helped in doing this by a 4 foot tall stoner). then you get to marry faramir. 10/10 no notes my girl went through it all

[fawnnbeauty]

No bc real

[claireedelreyy]

Who wants to live forever - Stand by me (3)

Pairing - Chris Redfeild x Female OC 

Summary - Dr Heather Anouk Beattie was a literal Genius. There was little she couldn't do... well, so she thought. Avoiding kidnapping turns out to be something she isn't very good at. And well... Climbing through the vents of a Mansion filled with people plagued with a strange disease wasn't on her bucket list. In fact, she found it rather embarrassing that an Army veteran such as herself had even managed to be kidnaped let alone by a pharmaceutical company named after a rain accessory! Every creak of the vent she was climbing through to avoid being caught was just another reminder of her failure, and she was sure this would be the worst day of her life. Years later, it turns out to be the best thing that could have ever happened.

In simple terms - Chris Redfield catches Heather falling out of a vent, to then proceed to ignore his feelings for her until everyone gets so sick of it they have no choice but to force them together (cough cough... sherry.) Don't worry if you think Chris sounds bad, Heather is 10x worse.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:

The Mansion Tunnels – Friday 24th 1998 I used to think I understood how infections worked. Yet nothing about this infection looked like anything I knew.

I tried to treat it like a case study. That made it easier. If it were just work, the emotional part was removed, and everything was easier.

Rebecca was still with me, still trailing behind me. Trusting me. She kept looking at me like I had answers. I didn't have the heart to tell her I was just as clueless.

The tunnels gave us a rare kind of peace. Nothing chased us, nothing moved. It should’ve felt like a break. Yet I couldn’t turn off the adrenaline, not yet. Not until I was back in the heart of the city and in my bed again.

There was another one of the dead lizard  things. I stop. Just for a second, just so I can think. It didn’t look eaten, there were no bite marks, just a pool of blood and army-precision knife skills.

“Do you think it’s Chris’ work…?” Rebecca asks as I begin to walk again. “I hope so,” I mutter.

I needed Chris alive. Not only was he skilful and extremely useful… but I had begun to like him. He was good company, and it would be a shame to lose a comrade. Especially one I had begun to trust.

I also remember his mention of his sister, Claire, and I felt as if I owed something to this mysterious girl now to keep him alive. I knew what it was like to lose family, to feel entirely alone, and if I could prevent her from dealing with it, I would. Even if I didn’t know her. There were traces of someone being here at least, and I hoped—silently prayed—it was Chris, or another member of S.T.A.R.S. The last thing I needed was a survivor working for Umbrella.

I look at Rebecca. “Hey… you alright? You’re not starving or going to faint on me, are you, Chambers?” I tease, laced with concern.

“I’m okay,” she says, her voice filled with sincerity. “Honestly, once we’re out of here and back to safety, everything will be much better.”

I smile at her reassuringly. “I’m sure Chris will find a way out.” I continue to walk. “His S.T.A.R.S. spidey senses will go off and find a way out.” I laugh.

Rebecca laughs too. Good. If she’s smiling, then she can’t be in too much pain. She can’t have contracted it from something.

“Hopefully this path doesn’t include the woods,” I add.

“The woods?” Rebecca questions far too fast. “What’s wrong with the woods?”

I shiver, thinking about it. “Apparently it’s filled with those weird infected dogs.”

Rebecca goes quiet. Far too quiet. She pauses as if she’s thinking about it—about someone. “Was someone in Bravo you care about stuck in the woods?” I pry.

Rebecca looks up sheepishly, as if I caught her doing something she wasn't meant to. “I—yeah… someone was,” she says, her voice quieter now.

I don’t push straight away. Just walk beside her. The thing she probably needs most right now is someone to listen.

“Bravo Team got sent out there first,” she continues after a moment. “We were supposed to investigate… just a routine thing.”

“And…?” I prompt, softer this time.

She hesitates. “There was someone with me,” she says. “He wasn’t… S.T.A.R.S.”

That catches my attention. “Not S.T.A.R.S.?” I glance over at her.

Rebecca shakes her head slightly. “No. He was a prisoner. They had him in custody… but we 

got separated from the others and—” She cuts herself off. I don’t interrupt. I let her get there herself. If I push, she could back off immediately.

“He helped me,” she adds quickly, like she needs that part said. “Saved me. More than once.”

There it is. Not just someone. Someone important. “What was his name?” I ask.

Rebecca looks down for a second before answering. “Billy.”

She says it like it means more than just a name. Silence settles for a moment—not an awkward one—and we walk a little further before I speak again.

“You made it out,” I say. “That counts for something.”

Rebecca nods, but it’s small. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “We did.”

We. I don’t point it out, don’t ask what happened to him. But something tells me Billy went into those woods alone.

I pass another one of the rotten humans. I decide to take initiative—if I’m going to research this, I’ll need a sample.

“Hey, do you have any test tubes or something?” I ask Rebecca.

Rebecca holds out a pot from her pouch. “Does this work?”

“Yeah.” I kneel down and scrape some of the rotten flesh into the cup. The smell is worse than anything I’ve smelt in any hospital or lab I’ve worked in.

Rebecca stands and watches. “Is that… safe?” she asks.

“Nope,” I reply, still doing it.

I screw the cap on and hand it back to her. “Keep it safe for me.”

She nods and places it in her bag.

***

Chris Redfield is a nightmare to trail.

He changes direction, opens doors, and then just doesn’t use them—and he leaves files everywhere. Important, incriminating files.

I’ve gotten a good stack by now, mostly letters and random documents I passed on the way, neatly organised into a folder.

The last thing needed is someone destroying my evidence.

I’ve clearly missed some, but at this point, anything’s welcome.

I flip through a couple of the files I’ve collected and frown. A few of them have been stamped with the same initials.

A.W.

“Rebecca,” I call, holding one out. “Tell me I’m not seeing a pattern here.”

She takes it, scanning quickly, even tracing the stamp with her finger a couple of times.

“These aren’t just reports,” she says slowly. “They’re experiment logs.”

That’s… not better. It’s worse. It pretty much confirms that me and Chris were right about being experiments. This is all just a test to them.

A page slips loose from the folder.

‘Visual records stored in Lab B.’

I look up at Rebecca to see if we’re on the same wavelength.

“Well,” I mutter. “That sounds promising.”

***

The lab is quieter than the rest of the mansion. Too quiet. Too clean to be paired with the zombies crawling around.

There’s a projector set up, still loaded with slides, like it was left on purpose. Rebecca hesitates. “These could be—”

I switch it on. The first slide clicks into place. It’s cells, a bunch of human cells, healthy human cells. Next. The cells look… dead. They look exactly like the cells I tested off bodies in college.

Rebecca sucks in a breath. “That’s… not possible.”

I don’t respond. Just keep clicking. Human tissue. Then something else entirely. And then— A picture of different Umbrella scientists. All of them look different, but one looks familiar. Wesker. I stare at it for a second too long.

“…He’s not here by accident,” I say finally.

The projector hums quietly as the next slide clicks into place. Cells. Warped. Twisting into something they were never meant to be.

Rebecca shifts beside me. “That’s… not natural.”

“No,” I murmur, already reaching for the next slide. Click. Human tissue. Degradation. Then—another photo. This time it’s undeniable. It’s him. Wesker.

“…Me and Chris were right,” I say finally. “It’s controlled.”

Rebecca goes quiet. “Engineered,” she adds under her breath.

The door behind us creaks open. Footsteps. “Hey—”

Chris walks in, slower now, gun raised until he sees us, his gaze landing on the projector. “You two alright?”

I don’t answer and neither does Rebecca, we’re both far too engrossed in this.

Another click and he steps closer. “What am I looking at?”

“Your boss’s side project,” I say, still watching the screen.

There’s a pause. “…Wesker,” he says. Not a question. And I hear it—the shift in his expression.

I finally glance over at him. His expression is tight, jaw set, but not surprised. Just… confirmed.

“Figures,” he mutters. Silence settles again, heavier this time.

Rebecca clears her throat. “It’s not just infection data. It’s development—controlled mutation. These are staged results.”

Chris doesn’t take his eyes off the screen. “So this whole place…”

“We were right. It’s a test site,” I finish.

I notice a metal casing on the table. Inside, a bright green liquid. I consider picking it up, but before I can weigh the options, Chris is already moving toward it.

His hand hovers. Too close. “Careful,” I say automatically. “If that thing’s contaminated—”

“I’ll live,” he cuts in.

I exhale. “You say that like I haven’t just watched a slideshow proving the opposite.”

That earns the smallest huff of a laugh from him. Barely there. But it’s something. He picks up the vial and spins it around, investigating it before passing it to me.

“Take it. You’re the expert.” He glances at me then, properly this time.

I begin to look at the green liquid. It’s neon, with what looks like a strand of DNA in it. 

Perhaps I can test it back in the Raccoon lab. I place it in the pocket of my lab coat, which is now covered in dirt and blood.

“You find all this on your own?” he asks.

I hesitate, just for a second. “I had help.”

Rebecca straightens a little at that. Chris nods once. “Good.”

Another pause. Quieter now. “You shouldn’t be in here alone,” he says, not quite looking at me.

I raise a brow. “I wasn’t.”

He looks at Rebecca, then back at me. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s something in the way he says it. Not sharp. Not commanding. Just… there. For a moment it’s just quiet, almost peaceful. I look back at the slides, breaking it first.

“She’s a smart girl. I wouldn’t doubt her,” I say, not fully understanding what he’s meaning.

He shakes his head with a small smile. “I meant you should have waited for me.”

“Well,” I say, a little sarcastic, “next time I’ll wait for you to clear the room before I uncover a conspiracy.”

“That’d be appreciated,” he replies.

A beat. Then, quieter, “…Stay where I can see you.”

I don’t dignify that with a sarcastic response. I just reach forward and open the next door. But I don’t miss the way he moves beside me, Rebecca trailing behind.

I don’t like that. “Rebecca, you should go in the middle,” I say, stopping in the hallway.

Chris steps back. Rebecca moves between us. Good. The sooner we’re out, the better.

Rebecca speaks up from behind me. “So… is that, like—” For a second, she hesitates, as if she’s choosing her words carefully. “—a thing you’re doing?”

“We’re not—” I start, then stop. “…no.”

Rebecca just hums softly, but I still feel the need to defend myself. “We met fully, like, four hours ago.”

Chris doesn’t say anything, and I don’t look at him.

***

We run through the hall

“Jill and Barry have to be here somewhere,” I mutter, turning the corner.

Rebecca reassures us, mostly for Chris’s sake, “I’m sure I saw Barry at some point.”

Chris stops, and it takes a second for me to realise, but I do, and I turn around.

“Chris?”

“They aren’t in the cells, we checked. They aren’t in the mansion, we haven’t seen them. There’s no trace of them, not one. If Jill was caught, she’d be without weapons. She’s good, talented, but…” he pauses, the tone clear in his voice. He doesn’t have faith.

“Chris, there are weapons all around here if you look, she’ll be fine,” I half promise.

“I left her with Wesker,” he grunts.

I scoff. “Yeah, but you also saved my life, and Jill will be fine, I’ve seen her mission reports.”

He goes quiet, and that’s the end of that delightful conversation. I press a button and the door opens to a lab. I run in, followed by Rebecca and then Chris. The lab is dark and filled with large, human-sized test tubes, plus it’s too smoky to see much or even aim my gun properly. When the smoke clears, I see the bastard we’ve been trying to avoid. Wesker. In all his smug, shallow-mindedness, which radiates back out onto us.

I stop, metres away from where he’s typing something frantically. His demeanour still the same as it always was, indifferent.

Chris speaks up first, cutting off any number of insults I could feel about to spew out. “Wesker.”

Wesker doesn’t look up. “So you’ve come, Chris, you make me proud. But of course you are one of my men.”

Both me and Chris scoff at the same time, and Chris pushes out a “Thanks.”

Unsurprisingly, Wesker pulls out a gun and aims it at Chris.

Chris, however, keeps his composure, he’s well past shocked. “Since when, Wesker?” he questions.

Wesker laughs. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he clearly lies to our faces.

Chris grunts and raises his voice. “Since when have they been slipping you a paycheck!”

Wesker moves forward, the gun inching closer to Chris’ skull. “I think you’re a little confused,” he practically taunts. “I’ve always been with Umbrella.”

He’s always been with them!? This wasn’t an inside thing? This wasn’t them slipping him a couple of ten thousand to keep his mouth shut and give intel. He was knowingly working for them.

I go to curse him out. “Why you—”

He cuts me off with a taunt. “S.T.A.R.S have been Umbrella’s… or well, my little piggys. And you, Doctor, have been a test. How long it would take for someone like you to recognise what this place really is… an opportunity.”

I stare at him. “An opportunity..? People have died. Even more will, if this isn’t contained. The only opportunity here is seeing the horrors of what happens when someone goes too far with altering biology,” I snap.

“…and I’m not interested in being part of it.”

Wesker looks at me for a moment, then smirks. “Perhaps Tia would be interested. She seemed very… enamoured with me. Maybe—”

I cut the son of a bitch off. “She’s not.” For a second, I don’t even realise how quickly I answered.

Wesker’s expression doesn’t change.

“She was never the objective.” He pauses for a second.

“You were.”

He continues, without being prompted. “Your friend made things very convenient. You’re remarkably easier to understand when observed from a distance.”

I scoff, but it doesn’t land in the way I intend it to. “Will you shut your goddamn mouth,” I grunt.

“Of course, on paper this whole looks as if the Tyrant virus leaked, polluting this whole place, and unfortunately I had to give up my lovely members of S.T.A.R.S,” he continues, the gun still far too close to Chris’ skull for my liking.

Chris points a finger out and shouts at him, “You killed them with your own filthy hands, you son of a bitch!”

Rebecca lets out a soft “no” from behind me and Chris.

“Oh yes, dear,” Wesker purrs out, and I can feel my eyes wanting to roll at his sheer audacity.

“Just like this.” He pulls the gun away from Chris and shoots Rebecca directly in the chest.

The shot lands before I even register the sound. I hear another bang, and then something slams into my arm—hard—and the neatly compiled file of papers slips from my hand. A second later, the pain hits. Sharp. Hot. Spreading down to my fingers. I grit my teeth, forcing my arm to steady. It doesn’t quite listen. I grab my arm and feel the blood, hot, runny, messy. I look down and it’s everywhere, all over my white coat. I can’t think, the pain is agonising, and I feel dizzy.

I fall to the ground next to Rebecca and push through to check she’s alive. I can make out her opening her eyes, and I feel my hand moving off my arm to push her down. I wouldn’t underestimate Wesker to shoot again. The blood gushes out of my arm far too fast. Everything tells me to grab the wound and stop the bleeding. I know my training, I know what I need to do. But something else tells me to continue to hold Rebecca down, to cover her in my blood, to make her look dead.

I can barely make out what’s being said; I’m long past listening. Something about a Tyrant and… I can hear Chris’ laugh.

Wesker’s voice breaks through the ringing in my ears. “Chris, you and the Doctor will never understand, it’s magnificent.” There’s a crash of glass and a groan.

Before I know it, Chris shouts from the corner, “Come on, you test tube freak,” and I black out, not before attempting a few shots with my unshot arm.

***

I come back fully into consciousness while walking down a hall. I’m leaning against him. The pain in my arm is still excruciating, and my blood is violently red and covers almost all of my right side.

I can see Rebecca standing there, and she’s fine. Oh thank goodness.

“There’s still a lot of Tyrant virus here, we should blow this place up,” Rebecca suggests.

I turn my head to look at Chris with a groan. “Right, the show must go on. I’ll leave that to you, Rebecca. Heather will stick with me,” Chris says with what looks like a slightly proud smirk.

Rebecca nods. “I’m on it, I’ll start the self-destruct system I found a while ago.”

“It’s not like we’re out of this yet. I’ll see you on the outside,” Chris wishes her luck.

“Outside,” Rebecca agrees, and before I can say anything, she runs off.

Chris leans me against a wall and begins bandaging my left arm, keeping the compression. “I’m glad you’re alright,” he mutters, focused on bandaging, which he was doing all wrong.

“Tighter,” I mutter. “It needs to be tighter, trust me, I’m a doctor.”

Chris laughs, but he does redo it tighter this time. “Better?” he questions.

The pain was still devastatingly bad, and I wouldn’t be able to use that hand, but in terms of the others I’d seen here and their fates, yeah, I’m pretty lucky. 

“Better.” I nod and try to swallow through the pain.

Chris ties the bandage off and leans back slightly, checking it.

Before he can say anything—

Footsteps. They’re not slow. Not wandering. Purposeful. Chris is on his feet instantly, gun raised, moving slightly in front of me without thinking.

I push myself off the wall despite the pain. “Chris—”

“I hear it,” he whispers back, moving himself in front of me.

The footsteps get closer. Two sets. A shadow moves across the corner and Chris tenses up. His features tighten, and his hands grip the gun with intention. Then—

“Chris?!” The voice cuts through everything. Jill Valentine.

Chris lowers his gun so fast it’s almost a reflex. “Jill—?”

She rounds the corner, Barry just behind her. For a second, no one moves. Then it all hits at once. The guilt he had been carrying on his face washes off instantly.

“You’re alive,” Jill breathes, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

Chris lets out something between a laugh and a breath into her back. “Yeah… yeah.”

Barry exhales, shaking his head. “We thought we lost you back there.”

Their attention shifts. To me. Covered in blood. Leaning against the wall. Half dying, or at least that’s what it feels like.

Jill’s expression sharpens instantly. “She’s hurt.”

“I’m fine,” I mutter automatically. I don’t need to be pampered, I’ll get through this, I have to. I need to.

Chris doesn’t even look at me. “She’s not.”

Barry steps closer, already assessing the situation. “What happened?”

“Wesker,” Chris says flatly.

That lands. Hard. “He’s behind it,” Chris continues. “All of it.”

Silence. Heavy. Disbelieving. Barry looks like he already knows it’s true.

Jill’s jaw tightens. “Yeah, we figured that out after he tried to shoot us, plus Barry had some… inside information.”

I glance between them. “Yeah, no, he’s also trying shoot us, if that helps clarify things.” That breaks the tension just slightly. Just enough.

“You’re Heather,” Jill says. She glances at Chris, amused. “The pretty Dr. Heather, right?”

“I’m sure there’s more to me than being pretty,” I say, not understanding the tone she used.

She responds with a smirk and looks to Chris like calling me pretty was some weird inside joke I wasn’t in on. “What happened to you? Didn’t you go missing…?”

I pause just to think of a decent answer. “Kidnapped, locked up, escaped, shot—long story.”

Barry lets out a low whistle. “Sounds like you picked the wrong place to visit.”

“I’m starting to gather that,” I dryly reply, the pain still being too harsh to focus.

Chris steps in slightly. “She’s with us.”

It’s simple. But it lands. Jill nods once. That’s enough for her. “Then we move together.”

I shift my weight against the wall, the pain in my arm flaring again. I can tell this isn’t going to heal well, field treatments really do the bare minimum, and green herbs can only do so much.

“Right,” I mutter. “Because trusting S.T.A.R.S has worked out so well for me tonight.” Barry’s brow furrows slightly as if he was offended by my distrust. All I know is that if Wesker was working for Umbrella, what would stop Chris, Jill, or Barry? What if Chris was just a good actor, and he was just waiting for Rebecca to leave to finish me off before being interrupted?

Chris looks at me. “Heather—”

“What?” I glance at him. “Your captain just tried to execute us. Forgive me if I’m not thrilled about following orders from the rest of you.”

Jill’s expression tightens slightly, but she doesn’t react. Barry exhales slowly and Chris rubs a hand over his face, clearly trying to keep his patience. I suppose it sounds like an insult, but it’s a worthy suspicion. “Wesker doesn’t represent us.”

“Maybe not,” I reply, shrugging with my good shoulder. “But from where I’m standing he was still your boss.”

A small silence falls in the hallway. Chris finally looks back at me, frustration slipping through. “You’re being difficult.”

I stare at him. I’m difficult. I know that. I’ve been told that since I was a child, difficult has always followed me. It’s no different now. Except it was, he said it. For some reason I didn’t expect it from him.

“Oh, I’m difficult now?” I question, looking him dead in the eye.

“That’s not what I—” he tries to explain poorly.

“No, it’s fine,” I cut in, pushing myself off the wall even though the movement makes my arm throb. I give a small, humourless shrug with my left side.

“I know I’m a bitch, that’s kind of my thing,” I respond. If I act like I don’t care, then I’ll believe it, even though I do, deep down.

Barry blinks. Chris immediately looks like he regrets saying anything. He looks pitiful, that’s worse than being called difficult. The regret is much, much worse.

“Heather—” he starts. I wave him off with my good hand.

“Relax. I’m still walking,” I mutter.

Jill watches the exchange quietly for a moment, then speaks. “Good,” she says calmly. 

“Because we don’t have time to argue.” She looks down the hallway. “Let’s move.”

Chris hesitates for half a second, then falls into step beside me anyway.

That's when the alarms start blaring, ringing with the sound of the self-destruct message. Rebecca had done it. Chris stops for a second and puts the radio to his ear. I stop too and listen in.

The radio crackles to life and the message from the S.T.A.R.S pilot comes through. “We’re running out of fuel. This is your last chance! If there’s anyone alive give me a sign, I repeat, this is your last chance.”

I look at Chris after hearing that. “We need to get out of here fast, before it’s too late and he leaves.”

Chris nods. “Let’s catch up with the others,” and he begins to walk ahead.

I must have offended him or something. The pain in my arm is making it hard to think, and right now I’m unsure who to trust. Or maybe not, maybe I’m just overthinking. God, why do I care? I’ll probably never talk to him again after this. That’s how guys get over things, by pretending they never happened, or at least that’s what Tia says.

I catch up with the others and they’re standing at a deactivated lift. “Put the fuse unit back in,” I say to Barry and he picks it up and places it in incorrectly.

“Here, move over,” I mutter, and with my left hand only I start trying to fix it.

Behind me I hear Jill tease Chris, saying, “You didn’t mention she was useful.”

Chris lets out a scoff. “You mean back at the police station…? When was I meant to fit that in? Between your determination that I was going to ask the pretty girl out or after Barry attempted to throw out all my lighters so I had to ask her again?” he poorly whispers.

Jill lets out a hum. “Always so difficult,” she teases.

The lift powers back on, and Rebecca runs back in. “Are you alright..?” I ask her, my cleared vision now allowing me to realise she was stained in my blood.

“I’m alright, the self-destruct system has been activated,” she replies.

“Good work, Brad’s up in the helicopter,” Chris praises, but before anything can happen the creatures start entering from the side. I grab my gun and realise that while I was left-handed I did rely on my right to stabilise the gun, and wasn’t going to be much help.

“We can take care of them,” Jill replies, aiming her gun.

Chris protests, clearly worried for his partner. “But—”

Jill interrupts. “Chris, Heather, you two just get into contact with Brad somehow,” and she runs forward, followed by Barry and Rebecca.

“Okay,” Chris says before going into the lift, followed by me.

“3 minutes left until detonation,” the speakers announce. We had to get Brad’s attention. Fast.

The lift was quiet until I break the silence. “We’ll be okay,” I reassure, mostly myself.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, rubbing a hand over his face.

The doors open and we’re on the roof. Chris grabs a box of flares and lights one up. “Stand back, Heather,” he says, taking a couple himself.

I do so and watch as they shoot up into the sky, gaining the attention of a nearby helicopter. The helicopter begins to move and fly through the sky towards us. Just then the doors of the lift open. “Heather! Chris!” Rebecca says, followed by Jill and Barry.

“You three alright?” Chris asks, still watching the helicopter approaching.

“Yeah, the sooner we’re out of here the better,” Barry says, brushing himself off. Just then the floor explodes. I stumble back and pull Rebecca back with me.

 Out pops a deformed creature worse than anything else I’d seen. It was bigger, and had its heart on the outside of its body. It had a claw for a hand and it was coming towards us. It gets to Jill first and knocks her out with a slap using the claw. Rebecca gasps. It then gets to Barry and does the same. He lands on the floor with a thud.

I pull out my gun now and push through the pain to use my right arm to support my left. Rebecca follows suit and I can see Chris doing it too. The shots don’t do much to it, but Chris does manage to distract it from cornering me and Rebecca.

My arm protests in pain as I continue to shoot at it, but I need to help so I power through the pain. A rocket launcher falls from the helicopter as Brad shouts, “Chris! Use it! Kill it! Whatever it is!”

Chris dodge-rolls away from the thing and picks up the rocket launcher. I see him aim and before I know it he shoots and the creature explodes.

***

I run my blood-stained fingers down my face, only to get a flare of pain from my right hand. Great, I’ll need to get that checked out. This helicopter is the only moment of peace and comfort I’ve gotten in days. I look out the window and see the mansion explode behind me. It’s gone, we’re free.

I take a moment to collect myself. What on earth happened? This wasn’t my job, I’m a doctor and now… well now I know what I need to do. This needs a proper research paper, a proper investigation to ensure nothing on this scale happens again. Testing should be done and an investigation into the works of Umbrella. I know that I can’t just move on from this. Justice needs to be served for those who lost their lives in that mansion. And if I can do anything to help that happen I will. Right now however, i need a strong pain killer and my bed.

I reach into my pocket and rub the test tube with a sample of the virus. Later, I think. Later I’ll test this. Later I’ll write a report. But now… right now I’m so tired.

I turn to Chris who’s sitting beside me, deep in thought, but he breaks out of it and looks back at me. He looks as if he’s going to say something and then backs out.

“What..?” I whisper, cautious of waking a sleeping Rebecca who’s taken Jill’s shoulder for a pillow, and a sleeping Jill who’s taken Barry’s shoulder. Barry was now looking at a picture of his daughters and his wife.

Chris moves a bit closer. “You’re not a bitch,” he mutters with all the sincerity in the world, like this was important just after surviving an infected evil mansion.

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Chris shrugs as if this was eating him away. “You’re just stubborn.”

I stop and consider that for a second. This is his version of an apology, even though I’m the one who needs to. If he doesn’t think I’m a bitch then he should get to know me better. Because I know myself. I’m a bitch.

I give him a small shrug. “Give it time.” Before I can apologise about being the worst and giving him a hard time about S.T.A.R.S, my eyes begin to feel heavy and I yawn. I feel myself tilting and landing on Chris’s shoulder. And I finally give in to my need for sleep.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:

I've watched 4 play-throughs of Chris's run to try and memorise what I needed to write, as I almost always main Jill and not one of them kept Rebecca alive, she was like my main priority in Chris's run. So hopefully you enjoyed this entepritation as much as it was a pain to write her into scenes like the Wesker confrontation. Also, while writing the scene with Jill and barry i kid you not i got the worst writer's block and could only think of re5 and 6 scenes of Heather and Chris, so now their love confession is planned, the plot twist is written, and I know exactly what campaign she's gonna be part of in RE6. Anyways lovee you hope you enjoyed!! I'm going to go pull a heather and fall asleep. Oh also! if you prefer to read on Wattpad or Ao3 everything is the same name except my user is just Clairedelrey

[xoxomaeby]

regardless of who leon is married to, the fact that the first thing he did after everyone making sure grace was alright was take off his gloves and put his wedding ring on,,, oh lord have mercy im SWOONING for this lover boy

[melaniegyllenhaal]

[babydoll-4444]

[girlsoesoteriic]

i hate that i always drink things so quickly.

iced chai latte, i miss you dearly. 💔

[toothfairyinc]

happy international womens day to girlbloggers everywhere you are the backbone of society

[ayshahxxss]

respectfully, if you encourage this “older man x little girl” shit on this app PLEASE unfollow me. you girls are setting women back hundreds of years and bc of u i have to deal with creepy ass men bc they associate all girlbloggers with people like you. and idc if im being mean but by encouraging this behavior u are causing the already large number of pdfs on this app to increase even further and i do not stand for it.

[simplyxdreaming]

[stellasdrafts]

BOOM SHAKALAKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[claireedelreyy]

Who wants to live forever - Friday I'm in Love (2)

Pairing - Chris Redfield x Female OC 

Summary - Dr Heather Anouk Beattie was a literal Genius. There was little she couldn't do... well, so she thought. Avoiding kidnapping turns out to be something she isn't very good at. And well... Climbing through the vents of a Mansion filled with people plagued with a strange disease wasn't on her bucket list. In fact, she found it rather embarrassing that an Army veteran such as herself had even managed to be kidnaped let alone by a pharmaceutical company named after a rain accessory! Every creak of the vent she was climbing through to avoid being caught was just another reminder of her failure, and she was sure this would be the worst day of her life. Years later, it turns out to be the best thing that could have ever happened.

In simple terms - Chris Redfield catches Heather falling out of a vent, to then proceed to ignore his feelings for her until everyone gets so sick of it they have no choice but to force them together (cough cough... sherry.) Don't worry if you think Chris sounds bad, Heather is 10x worse.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀

Somewhere..?! - July ??th 1998

It had been around a week..? since I'd seen the sun. Since I came here. Still in the turquoise striped skirt and tank I was wearing, my lab badge still clipped on, my hair now greasy and pulled into a ponytail. I stank.

I just wanted to go home, wanted to get in my bed and forget about this nightmare, but I couldn't.

The walls of the cell were bare and scratched, probably due to the last inhabitant going insane. The bed was broken, and the toilet was a bucket.

No one spoke to me, said a thing to me, even acknowledged that I was literally kidnapped by them!

They all wore uniforms that carried the Umbrella pharmaceutical company logo. Did they want me to make pills..? Because I would if they offered it instead of just taking me! I would happily spend my life making creams and paracetamol if it meant getting out of here.

I could scream and I'd be met with a threat to shut up or take a bullet to the brain, and that would be that.

They knew my name, knew my job. This was a targeted attack, and yet they acted like they didn't care.

Was this manipulation, a scare tactic to threaten me into silence and doing what they wanted? Sure, I was smart, but couldn't they have tried bribery first..?

I suppose if they knew everything about me then they knew I was an heiress and didn't need money, but still the thought would've been nice.

Maybe Tia organised this to get me to quit smoking. Maybe she was too concerned about me, she wanted me to quit and this was the only way. That makes the whole pharmaceutical company make way more sense!

Yeah, maybe. Although they were giving me cigarettes, crumpled sure, but I got that luxury. They sure knew I'd go full world destruction without that.

Maybe whoever kidnapped me was distracted. The guards had been slowly disappearing day by day, and new ones came. So perhaps there was an issue there that meant I couldn't be dealt with.

Speaking of which.. where are the guards?

The Cell - July ??th 1998

Okay, now this is just some sick joke. You kidnap me, stick me in the cage and then just leave me.

The guards stopped, so did the food, and so did the cigarettes. I'm so done.

I stand up from the place on the floor I feel as if I hadn't moved from for days and peek out of the cell.

"I'm Going To Blow This Place To The Ground!" I scream as loud as I can. I'm met with silence. Sweet, painful silence.

"See This Lighter I've Hidden!" I shout, grabbing my lighter under the pillow. "I'm Lighting The Mattress!" I continue… still silence.

"Three... Two... On–" The door crashes open to the wing. Finally.

"Okay, I was joking, I just wanted–" I say before cutting myself off after looking fully at the figure.

"What on earth," I curse, looking at the distorted figure. "Are you alright..?" The cage was in between us, but it was definitely a guard, same uniform, the Umbrella logo plastered on the side of the arm.

The thing in front of me looked like a person who'd forgotten they were human. Skin hanging in odd places, like it didn't quite belong anymore. The smell hit first, old, wet, sort of metallic before my brain even caught up. Its eyes weren't angry or wild, just empty, drifting, as if it was focused on something deep inside of me.

I move forward as the thing grabs the bars and tries to get through. I leap back in fear. I'm not fearful usually, but my instincts tell me I need to distance myself from this... thing.?

I don't know its strength, or even if it's capable of getting through the bars. It had no fat, and I was scared the rest would fall off and it would get through, so I look to the vent.

Before I had reasons not to use the vent. I had no idea of the map of this place, no idea if there was gonna be a dozen guards shooting at me, and no idea if this would lead somewhere.

But a… well, not to use the word freak but... yeah, freak of a human wanting to… get me? Yeah, that's a reason.

I run up to the wall and jump, trying to use the wall for leverage. I grab the vent door and pull it down with me before landing with a thud.

Now to do it again.

And I do. I run as fast as I can, jump, and pull myself into the vent. I cough, a lot. It's very dusty, and it's in my eyes. But I'm in here and I have to keep going.

I climb through the vents. I'm just guessing where to go. Tia would've called it using my intuition, or that Cosmopolitan said I'd be insightful this month, but really I was just picking at a whim.

Crack.

I feel the weight of the vent bend after climbing for what felt like hours. I mutter a quiet "fuck" before it crashes down.

I brace for impact but instead land in.. arms? Fuck.

I look up expecting a guard but instead...

"Queen guy!" I exclaim. "Oh thank God."

The man who's now holding me gently places me on the ground. "It's Chris."

"Right, I knew that," I say, dusting myself off.

"God, am I glad to see you. I was in a cage–" Chris cuts me off.

"You've been missing for days, and you were here this entire time?" Chris says, his hands on my shoulders.

I push his shoulders off and look around. "You're not listening, I was kidnapped, you know against my will. And then one of the guards looks all... well, dead." Chris stops at that.

"You've seen those things too?" He looks me dead in the eye as he says that but quickly looks away.

"Hard to forget," I scoff, fiddling with my skirt.

"What day even is it?" I ask him, realising I look a little messed up. "And is there a bathroom?" I release my red locks from the braid.

"Uh, it's Friday.. 24th," he says, messing with his gun. "And I think so, but I wouldn't drink the water. I don't know what's caused this."

"I wasn't planning on drinking it. I was wanting to wash my face, and... caused what..?" I place my hands on my hips, my amber hair falling into place.

"You're a genius, aren't you?" he laughs, but it's not mocking, more as if he really is trying to make me feel better. "Look, there's more of the guy you've seen. This entire place is filled with these… zombies."

"What..? Then we should get out of here. Fast. Why are you even here?" I say, looking for an exit. His calloused hands reach out and gently grab my wrist.

"Look, I'm trying to find Jill. The entirety of the Alpha team came here after Bravo was sent here on a mission but didn't return. I'm trying to find my team," he says, slow as if I'm thick.

"Right.. Jill. I haven't seen her. But if she was taken she'd be where I've come from," I process.

"Where did you come from?" he looks hopeful.

"Well... I don't really remember, but there was a tree outside my window," I scratch my neck.

"You were in the army, you don't know anything about keeping a trail..?"

I take offence to that. "I was an over glorified lab researcher in the army. My training wasn't proper like I'm assuming yours was, it was basic. I wasn't on front lines, I was helping sick kids. And second, do I look like I'm in the army now, smart guy? I hardly use my training," I cross my arms on my chest.

"But you remember how to use a gun..?" he asks.

"It's a gun, I'm not thick," I scoff.

He holds out a gun. I'm unsure the type, I don't really know gun types and ammo, but it'll be useful so I take it.

"You'll need this. Don't shoot if you don't have to. You'll be just as good hitting them with a bat or something if you can save bullets," he warns.

"Okay... I think I've got it." I take the gun and ammo he's put in my hand. Suddenly my mind drifts to Tia, she must be worried sick about me.

"You know your friend Tia, my secretary, dark hair, wears a lot of yellow and pink. How's she been?" I enquire, pulling on the holster he's now passed me.

"I'm not that sure. All I know is she demanded people looked for you immediately," he says casually, helping me fix the holster.

"Sounds like her," I laugh.

"Yeah," he mutters, looking up.

"So... who's alive?" I ask before realising how morbid that was.

"Sorry– sometimes I think before I talk... I mean talk before I think." God, what on earth is wrong with me? First social interaction in days and I'm fumbling my words.

"You’re alright. Just stay close," he says somewhat reassuringly before standing up.

Chris walks through a door before beckoning me towards him. “We should go back to the dining hall, we can talk there,” he says as I walk towards him.

***

As I follow him I feel my heart beat in a way it hasn't since my army days. I wasn't on the front line in the army, I wasn't even in active combat, but something about this place makes my skin crawl.

I'm not scared, I know my training and I trust my reflexes but… this place feels as if it's going to test much more than my training.

We walk through the corridors but Chris is much more on edge than I observed moments ago.

“Are we lost?” I bite the bullet and ask.

Chris stops but doesn't look back. “We're not lost, I'm just exploring other ways to get back.”

“So we're lost,” I sigh, the lighting doing nothing for the headache I feel coming on.

“We can just push on if you want?” he offers.

“Sure. The sooner we're out the better,” I agree, following him.

This place is less than ideal. The snakes. The lizard things. And the less than humans. This place throws my assumptions of bioweapons right off. At least that's what I assume this is. It's a biologically altering infection.

A wave of relief hits as we enter a warm, calm space after using one of the keys in Chris’s possession. It's a sitting room, with an eagle on the wall that follows the movements made, creepy.

I sit on a red chair, sinking into the cushions. Chris notices but continues to explore the room, fuelled by his own determination.

I sink more and more until a letter catches my eye. I pick it up and my eyes skim over it.

The letter -

Attn: Chief of Security

Date: July 22, 1998 2:13

X Day is drawing upon us. Execute the following procedures within one week. Prompt actions are demanded.

Kidnap the Dr. to use as data to see how the world's researchers will react to B.O.W.’s

Lure S.T.A.R.S. to the estate, and obtain B.O.W.'s raw combat data against S.T.A.R.S.

Collect two embryos of each mutated specimens as samples, excluding the Tyrant. Dispose of the Tyrant.

Ensure complete disposal of the Arklay Laboratory including all personnel and test animals. Disguise their deaths as an accident.

When the above procedures are executed, report to headquarters for further instructions.

If for some reason you are unable to execute the procedure by the deadline, report immediately. In case of emergency situations, report directly to the extension number 5691.

Good luck.

Umbrella Headquarters.

Umbrella Inc.

***

I finish reading. Everything starts to make so much more sense

“Chris take a look at this,” I call him over and hold it out to him.

He reads it over and stays silent for a moment.

“We’re… test subjects…?” he asks.

I scowl at that. “This is just some sick test to them to help develop their B.O.W’s.”

I think on it longer. “This does add clarity though, and gives us some solid evidence,” I say as he folds the letter into his pocket.

Chris is too quiet. “Are you alright?” I ask, perhaps too questioningly.

Chris responds quietly and as if he's thinking his words carefully. “All those deaths… just as training for their creatures. Jill's still missing. Barry and Wesker too. And now I'm finding out they could be dead as part of a training exercise.”

He looks as if he wants to be reassured, promised they are alive. But I can't do that, every statistic in my brain is against it. So I just stand up and stay still next to him.

“I don't know what I'd do if I lost Tia. Jill's your Tia right..?” I ask already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.. she's my… Tia. It's been me and my sister Claire since my parents died. And when Jill became my partner it's as if…” he drifts off.

“You found the more happier better piece of you…?” I finish for him

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“I don't remember much fondly of my mum, and my father died not that long after I moved to the USA. But I always regretted not being close with my brother. I missed having a sibling. And then Tia came, and she just knew so much. And I don't know what I'd do without her. So I need to get back to her,” I blurt out, in order to make the conversation less awkward, and failing.

“I'll get you back home Dr.” he promises.

“Heather,” I insist.

“You know you change your mind rather fast,” he laughs.

“I know.”

***

We’ve been exploring the mansion for a while. Chris has been clearing out this tunnel system to see if anything comes of it, while I've been tracing the mansion. I'm so lost.

I hear a scream, a high-pitched female scream.

My legs instinctively start moving towards the sound, gunshots following it.

Once I reach the stairs, I'm met with a young girl face to face with one of the lizard… things. She couldn't have been more than what… 14?

My hands fly to the gun, and I start trying to get the thing to back off, at the very least. I had gun experience… just not very good aim.

But the thing does land on the ground. And I stomp on it for good effort.

“Are you okay?” I ask the girl, moving towards her slowly.

“I'm fine…” she pauses. “I mean, I think I am.”

I look over the girl. She's wearing a typical S.T.A.R.S. uniform, adorned with medical crosses. Which would be impossible because, like I said, she was 14, and even I wasn't out of university at 14.

“S.T.A.R.S. is hiring pre-teens now?” I question, my voice a little more harsh than intended.

“I'm 18,” the girl replies.

“Right… That’s what I said,” My face cringes as she mutters the words. “I'm Heather.” I look over her. “Are you sure you're alright?”

“Rebecca, and don't worry, I'm fine.” She stands and dusts herself off.

“Hey, aren't you head of lab… what are you doing here?” she questions.

“Long story, not voluntarily,” I reply. “Why don't you come with me? I'm with Chris.”

Rebecca looks around. “Where's he right now…?”

“These tunnel things. I'm not sure. He insisted I stayed here just in case someone needed help, but my theory is he's scared of the dark and doesn't want me to see.” I try and crack a joke.

“No way! That's been my theory too for ages!” she laughs.

“Well then, Rebecca, after you!” I allow her to walk in front.

“Is it true you're a thing?” she blurts out.

“Who..?” I ask, a confused look painting my face.

“You and Chris. I overheard in the office, Jill and Barry keep repeating it,” Rebecca chimes in.

God, this is what happens when you put teens in the workforce. It happened to me too. They treat work as if it's senior year, full of gossip, when in reality everyone hates each other. My lesson was quickly learned in the army after I did far too much snooping and found out something I should have definitely not have known.

“Jill kept saying he looked so pathetic talking to you,” Rebecca breaks my chain of thought.

“Sometimes friends do that,” I correct her. “She's probably just annoying him. My friend Tia does that too.” I pause before chiming up again. “Actually far too much.”

“So not true…?” she questions.

“Not true,” I reply.

***

We enter the tunnels. That’s when I decide to take the lead. I’m not having a dead girl on my watch.

“So you’re a doctor at 25? That’s so cool,” Rebecca asks for what feels like the 10th time.

“Well, I’m 24 right now. My birthday’s the 28th,” I say, keeping my focus.

“So as a doctor, what’s your professional opinion?” the girl quizzes me.

“Why don’t you tell me your theory? You’ve got a chemistry degree,” I ask her.

“It’s got to be the bites, right?” she says slowly. “They’ve all got them, and it would explain how it’s spreading easily.”

Smart kid. She knows her stuff. It’s good to be observant. She’s going places.

“That’s a good theory, most probable, but it’s what they are spreading through the bites that’s more intriguing,” I respond.

“What do you mean?” she enquires.

“Well, is it blood from their rotten jaw, saliva with their DNA, or a new substance they’re producing? It could be any body fluid as far as we know,” I say, looking at a dead body with a bullet in it.

Rebecca winces.

“Hey, you alright?” I ask her, noticing the S.T.A.R.S. uniform on the body.

“Yeah… fine,” she says, continuing to move.

“Okay… you know it’s okay if you’re not,” I say, my voice full of concern.

“You’re fine,” she responds.

“Yes, but you’re an 18-year-old girl fresh into the police. I’m 24 and have been in the army. I’m desensitized to this sort of stuff. If you’re not okay, it’s completely fine,” I say, pausing to look at her.

“I’ll be fine,” she says. “Once we’re out of here… if we get out of here,” she finishes.

“We will, I promise.”

“You sure?” she asks.

“For sure. I’ve got to get you outta here so I can steal you from S.T.A.R.S. to work for me,” I laugh. It’s the freest I’ve felt in hours.

Rebecca smiles a little at that, like she’s actually considering the idea.

“If we get out of here,” Rebecca says after a moment, “would you actually study this? The infection, I mean.”

I shrug. I’ve done a lot of work on pandemics over my life, mostly studying old cases, but could I see myself studying this, investing time into this research…?

Yeah, I could. But I didn’t want to make any false promises, so instead I nod and reply, “Someone should.”

Rebecca nods, gripping her gun a little tighter. “Then we’ll have to make sure someone survives to do it.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀

guys idk what to say, considering I've posted the other one two seconds ago, promise I'll be more interesting when I have more to say.

Ig reminder that I'm also on Ao3 and Wattpad same user (Clairedelrey)

This is my only fic up on this account, as I made a new one so I can post more mature content. (My other account was taken over by 12-year-olds, and I don't want to post smut for them to read when Heather and Chris eventually get together, or when I start my next story.)

credit to jillsandwichyummy for the whisper

[claireedelreyy]

Who wants to live forever - Kidnapping an Heiress (1)

Pairing - Chris Redfield x Female OC 

Summary - Dr Heather Anouk Beattie was a literal Genius. There was little she couldn't do... well, so she thought. Avoiding kidnapping turns out to be something she isn't very good at. And well... Climbing through the vents of a Mansion filled with people plagued with a strange disease wasn't on her bucket list. In fact, she found it rather embarrassing that an Army veteran such as herself had even managed to be kidnaped let alone by a pharmaceutical company named after a rain accessory! Every creak of the vent she was climbing through to avoid being caught was just another reminder of her failure, and she was sure this would be the worst day of her life. Years later, it turns out to be the best thing that could have ever happened.

In simple terms - Chris Redfield catches Heather falling out of a vent, to then proceed to ignore his feelings for her until everyone gets so sick of it they have no choice but to force them together (cough cough... sherry.) Don't worry if you think Chris sounds bad, Heather is 10x worse.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀

When I joined the army, I had one goal: I wanted to make an impact on people's lives. When I took my doctorate, I had the same goal. All those nights I spent studying suddenly felt worth it in the grand scheme of things. The homesickness at 15, away from home, the pain of losing my father while halfway across the world, missing important events to be some British Doogie Howser – all of it just stopped. All the noise. All the sacrifice.

The army was a clear path for me. I'd gain the experience I needed, toughen up, live a little, and as a bonus, I'd be providing emergency aid, making a difference.

I left the army two years ago, wrote it off as wanting to pursue lab work more professionally, publish more research papers, and share what was dubbed as my ‘god-given’ knowledge. But the truth was, I had no idea who I was. Who was Heather Beattie, really?

Did she like living in the city? Did she have a passion for cooking (clearly not after almost burning my apartment down)? Did I even like men? All valuable questions. All undiscovered.

So yeah, I did give up a high-profile role in the U.S. Army. And deny multiple job offers that would have boosted my career into international success before I turned 24 – maybe even got me considered for a Nobel Prize.

Instead, I dragged my ass to Raccoon City, a prosperous city in the Midwest with a rising criminal issue, and took up a job as head of the city’s police department lab. It was fairly simple: a DNA sample one minute, a drug sample the next. There was the occasional time a member of S.T.A.R.S would bring something of interest for me to prod at until I discovered something, but really… it was a simple life. I knew who I was.

I loved city life – bars, nightclubs, the noise, and taxis. The whole thing. I should really work on my cooking skills for everyone’s safety… And yes, sadly, I did still like men. And the men in Raccoon City were some of the dumbest I’d ever met. I suppose you can't win them all.

My life finally felt perfect.

Raccoon City Police Department Lab – 14th July 1998

The radio in the lab streamed through as I investigated samples left for me by a random department I frankly had no interest in. I just wanted to go home. The lab was empty now except for me and Tia Vega, my colleague and best friend since moving here. She was done with her work for the day, however couldn’t drive – something I’ve always been skilled at. So why wouldn’t I drive her everywhere?

“Climbing for the number one spot, it’s The Boy Is Mine,” the radio announces before playing the pop song, which Tia hums along to.

“What happened to hating pop?” I snicker from my workspace, taking notes from my results.

“That was totally Harry’s fault! He was feeding me these lies about what good music is our entire relationship!” Tia remarks from the desk she’d situated herself on while waiting for me to finish up.

“That man thinks Wonderwall is the greatest song of all time. I wouldn’t have trusted him near my CD player, let alone giving me musical advice,” I mutter disapprovingly from across the room. “Thank God he’s gone… boy-free summer for the both of us.”

I look up as Tia purses her lips.

“Oh God…” I sigh. “Spit it out.”

Tia looks slightly guilty – emphasis on slightly, because the majority of it is flustered. “So… what do you think of the S.T.A.R.S members?”

My original focus is lost completely. “That’s insane. Half of them are married… the rest are, like, far too old,” I exclaim, not that surprised, making my way over to the computer to search the S.T.A.R.S database.

“Alpha or Bravo…?” I sigh, looking at her.

“Am I meant to know…?” Tia shrugs, opening an orange out of her bag.

“It's literally on their uniform, how do you not—” I stop myself short, sighing. “No food in the lab.”

Tia shrugs off my warning. “The hot one that brought you a sample today.” She pulls herself off the desk to move closer to the air purifier that I told her many times was a very expensive HEPA purifier and shouldn’t be blocked by a body for the sake of body heat regulation, just to be met with, “But it’s so hot in here!”

I look up from my sample. “The hot one…?” I mutter. “You mean Jill Valentine?! Are you friends with Dorothy now?” I ask, confused – not because I find anything wrong with it, it’s ’98, be who you want to be, but Tia was a man-eater… she went through like 15 alone last year.

“Now don't be silly, the blonde one with attitude,” Tia states as if S.T.A.R.S Captain Albert Wesker was even remotely attractive. “And who even is Dorothy…?”

“First of all, Albert Wesker is the ugliest thing I've ever seen. He was born in 1960; he could so be like… your uncle. And secondly, Dorothy was like… an army thing for gay… I’m not really sure how to explain it,” I tease. “Albert Wesker. Really..? The man once said he spent $600 on his sunglasses every month alone.”

Tia pauses, just for a second. “I don’t know. He’s… intense.” She takes a bite of an orange slice. “It’s creepy how you remember all these things about people you know,” she remarks.

“It’s creepy being in love with your sunglasses, too,” I retort.

“Good point,” she pauses, not too long before starting again. “Just, I have a good feeling this time. He actually noticed me.”

“Well then, God help you.”

Raccoon City Police Department Fire Escape – 15th July 1998

Wednesdays were always slow. The type of slow that killed you. That made every hour heavy until the clock felt frozen, as if you were going to stare at lab results until your brain exploded, and even then be exposed to them for eternity in the afterlife. Wednesdays were the type of slow that made you feel like the only escape was a smoke on the fire escape.

I was many things, but the most ironic was a doctor who smoked. All the health information decided to float out of my brain the second the craving hit. And there I was once again, smoking on the fire escape. Flicking the lighter on… and off… and on again.

A throat clears behind me.

I turn from my seat on the steps, cigarette in one hand, lighter in the other, lab coat long disregarded somewhere, and hair frizzy from the humidity the summers in Raccoon City will give you. My head is pounding from the type of headache only an unorganised lab will cause. My eyes meet combat boots before drifting up to see a man standing before me, S.T.A.R.S shirt paired with a green vest. He had dark brown hair and, honestly… the worst sweat stains I've seen.

“Can I help?” I state with more harshness than I intended, smoke retreating out of my mouth.

“Heather, right…?” the man asks, which makes me feel all the worse for my rude attitude and the fact that I had no idea who he was.

I deflect. “Dr Beattie to you.”

“I prefer Heather,” the man says, crouching down, which makes me feel like a small child. I shuffle to allow him to sit next to me, which he does.

There's an awkward silence, only broken when smoke escapes my mouth.

“Can I borrow your light?” he asks, placing a cigarette in his mouth.

“Don't you have your own…?” My eyebrow rises to prompt him to say his name.

“It’s Chris. Chris Redfield. And I do, but it’s all the way in the S.T.A.R.S office, and this building's more poorly designed than some of the temporary shelters I've seen in the army. And, uh… I don’t get many chances to talk to people outside of work,” he says, looking out into the horizon from the stairway.

“That explains a lot,” I mutter, passing him the lighter.

It was inscribed lyrics from a Queen song, Under Pressure: 'Cause love's such an old-fashioned word, and love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night.’ I had found it in a thrift shop weeks after coming to Raccoon City. The font was polished and had the Queen logo on the front and the Aladdin Sane bolt on the back.

He takes it, lights his cigarette, gives it a puff, and inspects the lighter.

“Nice. Queen,” he comments, passing it back.

“And Bowie,” I add. “Queen's nice, but Bowie… he's a genius.” I play about with the lighter, shuffling in my place on the stairs to get more comfortable.

He confidently states, “You're wrong. So wrong. Queen are miles better.”

“Sure, mate,” I take another puff.

“Oh, so we’re friends now?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No – I – … forget it. I’ve got a lab to run,” I put out my cigarette and stand up. “Nice meeting you…” I forget his name.

“Chris. It’s Chris,” he states.

“I knew that,” I lie before leaving the fire exit.

We are not friends.

By the time I reach my office, the craving hits again. I really should quit. Old army habit. The doors into the lab reception creak as I go to grab a file. But I freeze.

There was Captain Albert Wesker leaning over, flirting with Tia. My Tia! I sort through the files. Focus on the files… don't listen in… focus… focus.

“You’re very competent for someone in your position,” the Captain says low. Talk about gross, shameless work flirting.

Tia, bless her, replies modestly, “I try,” her dark curls whisking away from her face as she looks up at him.

Bingo. The file.

Wesker looks as if he's about to say something just as shameless again.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t flirt with my staff during work hours, Captain,” I remark, signing back in on the sheet at Tia's desk.

Wesker straightens himself up. “An observation, Doctor. Nothing more,” he coolly replies. “I was finished anyway.” He's long gone before I look up.

Once he leaves, I move to enter my office, but Tia clears her throat. “He just had a question about the filing system,” she brushes off.

“And no doubt whether you liked latex or lambskin,” I roll my eyes, entering my office.

The Streets of Raccoon City – 15th July 1998, 23:46

What idiot forgets the time, absorbed in cleaning lab supplies… me, apparently!

Tia left early, something about a delivery, probably that new sofa, and insisted she’d take the bus.

Which leaves me walking through the streets of Raccoon City alone to my car. The parking near the police department is extortionate, and I still haven’t gotten my parking space I was promised three years ago, so every morning and night me and Tia walk seven minutes to and fro, year-round.

I really should pay for the parking.

It’s still that sticky summer evening, but darkness has managed to overcome. Something about pollution, mixed with… oh God knows. The craving hits again… I’ll just stop for a smoke.

I open my bag and grab a loose cigarette from the bottom and light it.

I hold it in my mouth and I fiddle with my bag.

They really should make these Dior bags easier to—

Hands tighten around my throat, my arms, my waist.

There are multiple hands.

Use your army training. Use your army training!

I resist.

Just like I was taught. The attackers anticipate every move, as if they had the exact same training. As if they knew my every move.

I’m an army researcher, not a soldier.

My resistance attempts fail, and fail.

And this is it. I'm gonna wake up to some men making me live my worst nightmare. Every woman’s worst nightmare.

I know I'm wanted. I know my brain has a price, but so does anyone who's smart enough to figure out not to put metal in a microwave. I didn't think they'd come for me.

Something sharp punctures my neck.

Stay alert, Heather. If not for yourself, for someone who cares about you. For Tia, at least.

A sharp voice whispers in my ear.

“Dr Beattie, we’ve been—”

I can't hear anything. Can't see. Can't—.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆

Yes I'm finally facing my fears and adding my fan fiction to tumblr, if you prefer to read on Wattpad or Ao3 everything is the same name except my user is just Clairedelrey

[c0c4in3er0t1c4]

[nightshadearielle]

[ribbrn]