#chrisredfieldxreader

[ficfield]

You’re alive

my first ever fic, I'm new to this, hopefully it's liked.

request - re5 Chris searching for reader who's gone missing, only to find she's been brainwashed by Wesker and has to try n get her back with Sheva

(basically she replaces brainwashed Jill valentine)

Chris Redfield believed he had lost the only person to have ever mattered to him, nothing could prepare him for this moment, the agony of seeing you like this. 

Tricell’s underground facility was eerily quiet, the air thick with humidity and the scent of chemicals. He and Sheva had fought through waves of Majini to get there, following every lead, every shred of hope. And now, standing in the dull glow of this run-down abandoned facility, Chris faced the nightmare standing in front of him.

You were alive.

But you weren’t you.

Clad in a sleek, black combat suit, your posture was rigid, controlled, your golden eyes devoid of the woman he once knew, it was the same look Wesker had. The same look that told him you weren’t in control anymore.

Chris’s hands clenched into fists at his sides “Y/N………it’s me, Chris”

You tilted your head, studying him like he was a stranger. He couldn’t tell if he imagined it but he swears there was a flicker of something in your eyes.

He took a cautious step forward, hope clawing at his chest. “you’re still in there, I know you are.”

Sheva shifted beside him, gun raised. “Chris… I don’t think she-“

A blur of movement.

Before Chris could react, you lunged, your speed unnatural, enhanced. Your fist connected with his gut, knocking the wind out of him. He barely had time to recover before you swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Chris coughed, scrambled to his feet. “Damn it, Y/N, STOP!”

But you didn’t

You were on him again, striking with precision and strength that wasn’t yours. Weskers influence was all over you, controlling your every move.

Sheva fired a warning shot into the floor. “stand down”

You didn’t even flinch.

Chris caught your wrist mid strike, holding on tight. “I’m not fighting you”

Your expression flickered, just for a moment. A hesitation. A crack in the control.

Chris’s grip tightened. “This isn’t you. Wesker did this to you, you’re stronger than this!”

For a brief second, your golden eyes dimmed.

Chris saw a flicker of recognition, the struggle in your expression. His heart pounded. “That’s it, fight it!, I know you can hear me”.

But then, the device on your chest glowed a luminous red, the device that had you under control. 

A slow, mocking clap echoed through the room. 

Chris’s stomach dropped as Wesker stepped into view, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. “How touching” he mused. “But I’m afraid you underestimate my influence.”

Chris barely had time to react before your body tensed, your breath hitching as a sharp pain tore through you. Your fingers trembled in his grasp, and then-

The golden glow in your eyes returned, stronger than before.

Chris’s heart clenched.

“No-“

You wrenched yourself free, stepping back beside Wesker like his loyal servant. This time when you looked at Chris there was no hesitation. No recognition. 

Only obedience.

Wesker smirked, placing a hand on your shoulder like you were his prized creation. “let’s see if you’re still so sentimental when she’s the one trying to kill you, Chris.”

Chris gritted his teeth, his grip tightening around his weapon.

He wasn’t giving up on you.

No matter what it took.

part two?

[noobiestnoober]

Confessions, Crunches and Completely Unexpected Crushes (Chris X Reader)

What happens when your gym trainer finds your private journal—and your not-so-subtle thirst entries about him?

You’re new in town, awkward with weights, and totally smitten with the too-hot-to-be-real Chris Redfield. He’s professional, disciplined, and built like a Greek statue sculpted from pure intimidation. But when he stumbles across your diary and reads about “moaning during form correction” and “biceps as a spiritual awakening,” your sessions go from mildly flirty to a slow-burn firestorm of tension, blushing glances, and “accidental” touches.

He’s faced monsters, bioterrorism, and global crises. But now? He’s up against his toughest mission yet—resisting a woman who thinks he's the main course and the protein shake.

You’re new in town and finally work up the courage to sign up for the gym everyone raves about—the one with the state-of-the-art equipment, intense classes, and a gruff, no-nonsense trainer named Chris Redfield. He’s all business: serious, structured, and somehow still patient with you, even when you can’t tell a kettlebell from a dumbbell. Over the next few weeks, you start growing more confident—and more hopelessly flustered. Especially when he flashes that rare, crooked smile that makes your knees buckle.

One afternoon, Chris stumbles across a small leather-bound notebook you accidentally left in the locker room. Planning to return it, he flips it open to confirm it’s yours—only to discover it’s your journal. Inside are hilarious, heartfelt entries about your gym misadventures, awkward encounters, and, much to his surprise, your very detailed thoughts on just how attractive you find your trainer.

He tells himself to stop reading. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy. But then he sees the line:

"Pretty sure I accidentally moaned when he corrected my form. Please bury me in the squat rack."

From that moment, your workouts feel...different. Chris becomes quieter, more intense. His eyes linger a little longer; his hands pause just a moment more when adjusting your form. There’s heat under the surface. One day, after you drop your water bottle for the third time and stammer something about replacing all your fingers with thumbs, he corners you by the dumbbell rack and murmurs:

“Tell me, exactly how hot do you think I am?”

Cue the slow burn: lingering touches, flustered stares, tension so thick you could bench press it. Accidental run-ins outside the gym that feel suspiciously like fate. He helps you re-rack weights while trying not to look too amused. You swear you’re fine—until he brushes his hand over your back during a stretch and your soul momentarily leaves your body.

And Chris? He may be a battle-hardened soldier who’s faced down zombies, bioweapons, and the literal apocalypse—but nothing, not even his most dangerous missions with S.T.A.R.S. or the BSAA, prepared him for the challenge of falling for a woman who describes his arms as a “spiritual awakening.” And honestly? He’s absolutely here for it.

[nacht-seele]

Chris Redfield x reader , Redfield's babygirl (imagine) - Dirty work (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/KAw6xJAP2A post apocalyptic scenario, zombies, BOW's, blood, sweat , tears & daddy chris redfield lusting over you during missions, aint this all we need?