𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍.

[wolfsquads]

@𝚠𝚘𝚕𝚏𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚍𝚜 ██ ██ a 21+ independent, private, highly selective portrayal of chris redfield from capcom's resident evil. this blog will contain dd:dne material, please take caution proceeding. adored by blair [27, they/them, est]. minors && personals do not interact. discord available upon request from mutuals. 

００１. rules. ００２. muse page. ００３. mobile rules. ００４. ask memes. ００５．starter calls. ００６．thread tracker.

[wolfsquads]

彡 continued from [x] @megalomanist

Chris wasn’t sure if it’d been a saving grace or something else entirely when it came to Wesker dealing with Irons over paperwork that should have been done a long time ago. He’d never dealt directly in such a manner with the police chief, and from the multiple horror stories that he’d heard, he’d remained out of clear sight as much as he could. This was not the way to go about that, but he trusted Wesker.

He hadn’t failed him once or done something to not have that trust in him. Wesker was… interesting, from Chris’s perspective. An air of rigidity that exuded itself wherever the man walked, some displacement of Chris’s own nerves twirling themselves around under the hood of his own desire to stick to whatever standard the man did have. As far as it stood, he still had a job, and wasn’t entirely being reprimanded for the lack of deadline duties. 

He’d take it.

Actually, he’d gladly take whatever the fuck was happening that evening, because it was far from the warning he’d been expecting. The only warning he’d received was to meet his captain after the next half hour to presumably get food somewhere. It was… not at all what he’d been gearing his mind for, the reaction wildly separated from what he was internally preparing for. 

Was it a full moon or something? What were the quirky, superstitious shit people always talked about? Had Chris managed to evade every crack in the cement?

A hand came up to grasp at the bag slung over his shoulder as his eyes followed the man’s gesture toward entrance, “Is it too soon to tell you that the vending machine feeds me probably way more than it should?” And that was the truth– the majority of the crumpled bills and coins in that machine were likely from him, and he wouldn’t deny it for a second. In his defense, it was close and far too fucking convenient. But that was the point, was it not? Plus, it had his favorite bag of hot chips in it, for less than what the gas station around the corner sold them for. 

They’d fallen in an easy step together once Chris followed the silent directive; Wesker’s inquiry elicited a quick shake to his head. “The what?” His own question was followed by a quick glance toward the man as they divided over the street, “That’s the real fancy place right up here, right?”

Fancy, in this placement, more or less meant fucking expensive. This was a joke, right? Maybe Wesker was bringing him here to let him down really, really gently over food that could probably pay Chris’s goddamn rent if he tried hard enough. 

Though lo and behold, considering it was a rather short walk, Chris was quickly approaching the exterior of a building that looked as if it should’ve been anywhere other than right where it was. It seemed out of place, as if someone quickly installed it for some event or some other obscurity– surreal didn’t even begin to describe it. Chris felt his footwork slowing as they approached, stalling to simply examine the outside as if it were a work art that someone hung up for viewers on the sidewalk to admire. 

God, he felt out of place.

After you. 

Chris blinked, nodding as though it were a statement that required some response. “Sorry– yeah, thank you.” It was uttered, almost hushed to himself as he managed to pick up his footing to carry himself inside– and if he’d thought the outside was anything to judge?

Boy, was he fucking wrong. 

The piano hit his ears gently, slowly, once again an element to this establishment that felt is though he’d been transported into a different point of the goddamn timeline. This was the place that you took important people to, people with money– people who had a status and reputation within the city. Chris was able to deduce this rather quickly; it was upscaled and classy. Far from what the point man was accustomed to, and very strayed from his own tastes. 

He had zero fucking room to complain or say anything regarding that, though.

A waiter had greeted them before Chris could let his eyes do a full sweep of the interior; flashy teeth, eyes that looked like marble instead of anything humanistic. Robotic, almost, as if the guy had been putting on the customer service act just a little too hard. He supposed people had to make tips and money somehow though, right? He’d followed behind Wesker as they walked to the back of the restaurant, the area more calming and quiet than the front of the house had been. 

Through the exchange of grabbing their own seats, Chris was silent– an unusual pull of his tongue as it’d been rendered nearly speechless. It hadn’t been until their waiter left that he’d finally pulled his eyes to land on Wesker, widened with detectable confusion swirling within the hazelnut pools. 

“Look, if you’re planning to fire me over that paperwork and this is your way of doing it, I’ve had my thoughts entirely wrong about you. I don’t even need to see the menu to know that there is not a damn thing I can afford on it– I would’ve been content with the McDonald’s right down the road. A burger and a termination paper doesn’t sound so bad, if you really think about it.” 

[wolfsquads]

@haoshoku sent in:

[ TXT ] : are you taking care of yourself? / from sheva<3

[TXT; Alomar] Since when have I ever given the impression that I don’t take care of myself? [TXT; Alomar] Don’t answer that. I’ve been okay, just busy. [TXT; Alomar] And you? Been a moment since we’ve last talked.

[wolfsquads]

@snipeheart sent in:

[ TXT ] : what do you mean you're at the hospital??

[TXT; Nivans] Means I’m at the hospital. [TXT; Nivans] Nothing big, got stabbed where it matters.  [TXT; Nivans] Can you bring me something to eat? Bag of chips, anything. They’re not letting me pick the good stuff from the menu.

[wolfsquads]

@devilshowdy sent in:

[ TXT ] : just saw i called you last night. how'd that go?

[TXT; Claire’s Friend] I answered and you were just laughing into the phone. [TXT; Claire’s Friend] Alcohol win this time? 

[wolfsquads]

彡 continued from [x] @voicestold

Once he’d pulled up to Leon’s home, Chris cut the engine to his truck and remained in his seat before moving.

Thankfully, the drive wasn’t bad. Traffic was nil with the way the directions wanted him to go, and he’d managed to smooth over any harsh bumps in the road without knocking the flowers from the passenger seat. That was a success in itself— the part that came after completing the drive and ensuring the livelihood of the roses was what he considered to be an optimal failure by now. 

Chris didn’t get nervous like this. Very rarely, if at all. Delegating a show of confidence was something he considered himself to do relatively well by now, because if not him, who else? He could place himself in shoes much bigger than his own and fucking figure it out— he eliminated goddamn bioweapons like it was nothing, most days. 

But a date with Leon Kennedy?

Yeah, Chris was having a difficult time settling over the idea of not going home to at least shower first. He was rethinking everything at the helm of his truck, and the palpitations of his heart were of no help to the cause. It felt like a mocking rhythm, one that stuttered harder each time he reminded himself of how to exit the truck. 

One foot in front of the other, as they say. 

He’d grabbed the roses with a steady fist upon the stems, slipping himself from the vehicle and allowing the door to slam behind himself with his free hand giving it the extra push. Each step felt like a phantom movement in the direction of the door– though he could easily blame his lack of cohesiveness on the mental exhaustion from the day. The approach to the door had slowly greeted him with the scent of… whatever it was that Leon was making; faint, barely detected by his senses until a wrap of knuckles had come up to knock against the barrier, while the other held the goddamn roses close to his chest.

This was stupid. 

A moment passed before the door curled against its hinges, and the sight revealed behind it made his pitstop for the roses not as bad as he’d made it out to be. If it meant he got to watch the typical stoicism of Leon’s entire visage melt itself away, unleashing the gentle planes over his features? Hell, Chris would move a fucking mountain to make it happen again.

“I, uh–” God, it’s been a while. “Yeah. Didn’t want to show up empty handed, you know? Haven’t been here before, but I can only assume you need something to brighten up the place, so.” Before he’d let any more wording come out to make himself look like a goddamn fool, Chris merely extended the roses out toward Leon with what could be considered an uncertain smile over his features. Part of him had been waiting for Leon to make a joke out of it– but it never came. Instead, he was met with a raw sincerity within Leon’s tone that had Chris almost shell-shocked by the reverence. 

This was all new– for them, anyway. Maybe he’d been focusing too much on the label of their evening. It was there for a reason, right?

Leon’s figure shifted itself from the threshold and Chris followed only a beat behind, pushing and locking the door behind himself; a habit that wouldn’t shake from lingering fingers even beyond the bounds of his own home. “Smells good.” A remark that came alongside the unlacing of his boots– per his prior debacle, he’d still been in partial gear from the day, just greatly dressed down for what it all contained. Tactical boots, matching pants to the print, and a grey undershirt that stretched itself against the contours of his frame for the purpose of feeling like nothing at all under the rest of his gear. 

He pushed both boots near the door, carefully toeing himself into the new terrain of Leon’s home. It was more collected than he imagined it to be– not that he had much room to talk on that front. “What did you end up making?” The inquiry came as he trailed himself into the kitchen, peering over at the stove with a quiet rumble within his core. Whatever it was smelled good enough to have his hunger thoroughly enticed. 

[wolfsquads]

彡 continued from [x] @cripplemagics

The simple request had his brows leaving their perch– chalk. 

It almost sounded surreal given the environment, given the boundaries of his life and what it normally entailed– chalk. They’d wanted chalk to draw with. The longer the thought stirred itself within his own mind, he almost couldn’t blame them. What else was there to do, truly? In her predicament? He couldn’t blame her, now that his initial stupefaction with the request had dwindled itself down. 

He hadn’t realized that there’d been a stint of silence that lingered between them while he stood and dawdled over the conceptualization of someone like them simply sitting on the floor and drawing with chalk. 

“Sorry–” Chris finally broke the silence, shaking his head once, “Chalk? Can’t say I’ve had someone request that before. Not like this, anyway.” But that went without saying. “I’m sure I can–” Another small pause, his lips instead pursing this time before continuing, “Yeah– yeah. We can get you some chalk. If you’ve got a favorite author or genre of book you like, we’ll supply it for you. If you manage to knock one of us down with a book or chalk, you’d be some sort of enigma beyond what you already are.” 

Though his safety was the last thing on his mind, if he’d been honest with himself. He’d already considered the harmful factors that came with keeping someone like Aoi in a facility like this– there was still much to learn and deduce, even with the limiter placed within their body. Chris didn’t have a full hilt of knowledge when it came to them, but he didn’t find himself… worried. He’d be able to take care of himself if something were to happen, but again– he wasn’t focused on the negatives in that way. 

[wolfsquads]

@bulletgraze sent in:

oh, i'm sorry, did i hit a fucking nerve?

Did I hit a fucking nerve?

Behind the tight seal of his lips, Chris could feel the grate of his teeth against each other– the click of his jaw as bones and muscle clicked and worked themselves. The flare of his nostrils had been exposed for the forceful passage of air through them, exhales that were meant to be calming and full of a measure to compose himself. 

None of that worked, though. No– once Leon started on something, he went. Talking, and talking, and talking as if the conversation about their jobs, their lives, hadn’t been a damper enough. 

He’d had his back turned on the other man, a barrier between himself and Leon as Chris worked to level his temper into a state that didn’t drive his instincts into nasty territory. Whether it’d been a clipped statement that he’d come to regret later, or a fist flying through the air– he certainly wasn’t above either outcome. 

“You don’t get to talk about shit I’ve gone through as if you were there instead.” Name a mission, Chris likely regretted it. Every time he let himself unveil the binds of his memory where it collected itself, he could very easily see his mistakes. It’s hard to admit them or acknowledge them in the moment– he only worked under the notion of trying to do the right thing. Not always was this the case, and he could see that when it didn’t matter. “Just walk away. Do yourself a favor, end this conversation, and fucking walk away. Before either of us says something that we don’t mean.” 

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝑻𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑷𝑯𝑶𝑵𝑬 .    (  a  collection  of  texting prompts.  feel free to change phrasing.  potentially mature content within.  )

[ TXT ] : why are you still awake?

[ TXT ] : hey, where did you go?

[ TXT ] : it's getting bad again.

[ TXT ] : guess i'll just sit in bed. alone. by myself.

[ TXT ] : you can't ignore me forever.

[ TXT ] : i can't stop thinking about you.

[ TXT ] : just saw i called you last night. how'd that go?

[ TXT ] : i really need someone right now.

[ TXT ] : we need to make plans asap.

[ TXT ] : have you seen the news?

[ TXT ] : you were blackout drunk.

[ TXT ] : testing to see if you blocked my number...

[ TXT ] : do you know anything about doing stitches?

[ TXT ] : just please let me know you're okay.

[ TXT ] : did you forget we had plans?

[ TXT ] : i know you see my messages, your read receipts are on.

[ TXT ] : meet me at [ location ], it's important.

[ TXT ] : do you need comfort, to vent, or a solution?

[ TXT ] : is there anything i should bring?

[ TXT ] : call me. please, it's important.

[ TXT ] : i can't sleep.

[ TXT ] : have you eaten today?

[ TXT ] : you are always going to be my priority.

[ TXT ] : i haven't seen you around in awhile.

[ TXT ] : i had a dream about you last night.

[ TXT ] : the names are gonna get mean if you don't text me back.

[ TXT ] : at the risk of sounding cliche, what are you wearing?

[ TXT ] : just say the word and i'll drop everything.

[ TXT ] : do you seriously not remember?

[ TXT ] : come to the front door.

[ TXT ] : have you been drinking?

[ TXT ] : how do you feel after last night?

[ TXT ] : are you up? please be up.

[ TXT ] : you looked beautiful today.

[ TXT ] : i have so much to tell you.

[ TXT ] : no one's heard from you. are you okay?

[ TXT ] : who is this?

[ TXT ] : are you taking care of yourself?

[ TXT ] : thought i'd reach out and see how you're doing.

[ TXT ] : i miss the taste of your lips.

[ TXT ] : that kiss was really nice.

[ TXT ] : stop acting so high and mighty.

[ TXT ] : i left my [ item ] at your place.

[ TXT ] : are we still fighting?

[ TXT ] : i need help and i can't go to the hospital.

[ TXT ] : are you thinking about me too?

[ TXT ] : call me, i wanna hear your voice.

[ TXT ] : i don't want to talk to you.

[ TXT ] : what do you have to lose?

[ TXT ] : you don't have to ask, i'm already on my way.

[ TXT ] : i want to take a nap on you.

[ TXT ] : even if you called 6 months later at 3am, i'd answer.

[ TXT ] : what's my name in your phone?

[ TXT ] : how's trying to forget about me going?

[ TXT ] : i have nobody else to ask.

[ TXT ] : what do you mean you're at the hospital??

[ TXT ] : sorry, i think you have the wrong number.

[ TXT ] : good morning! you up yet?

[ TXT ] : do i sense sarcasm in your tone?

[ TXT ] : you start your day at 2pm?

[ TXT ] : you need MY help?

[ TXT ] : stop texting me.

[ TXT ] : i'll leave that up to your imagination.

[ TXT ] : are you asking me to sneak out?

[ TXT ] : when will i see you again?

[ TXT ] : if you come over, i'll order us a pizza.

[ TXT ] : are we ever going to talk about it?

[ TXT ] : can you come get me out of here?

[ TXT ] : you mean like ... a BODY - body?

[ TXT ] : it's just been one thing after another lately.

[ TXT ] : forgiving and forgetting is harder than it sounds.

[ TXT ] : i want your legs wrapped around my head.

[ TXT ] : call me when you wake up.

[ TXT ] : what are you doing that's more important than me?

[ TXT ] : i'm out of town right now.

[wolfsquads]

good morning 🖤 looking to bother some more inboxes today and probably get around to moving some threads over here from my multi

[wolfsquads]

@fxntasmagoria sent in:

not exactly the subtle type, are you? (From Victor Gideon)

The guy was quick. 

Quick and fucking strong, and that meant something coming from Chris’s thoughts regarding it all. He wasn’t a light man by any means, so for someone to wrestle him into unconsciousness, for one, was an achievement for the bastard who’d managed it.

Either that or a death sentence– and after allowing the slow blink of light to infiltrate his senses again, he was more confident in the latter. 

“Never been.” The note of his voice was graveled– how long was he out? He was seated, a fact of his situation that came after the recollection of his perception. Both wrists were braced together in his lap, and his legs were bound rather tightly to the legs of the chair. 

Hell, he’d lose circulation before anything else happened first. Maybe that was the point.

He’d rolled his neck around, curling the base of his head on the axis of his spine to readjust to the discomfort of his bindings, the stiffness that settled itself within his joints. “You got me, now what?”

[wolfsquads]

@voicestold sent in:

t'is just a scratch. sorry chris this was the most leon thing

“Shut the fuck up.”

God, he couldn’t stand him sometimes.

There was blood all over his own hands, pressing into Leon’s lower right quadrant against his stomach– Chris should’ve been there sooner. The moment the shrill shock of the first bullet pierced itself within his ears as he’d been just down the hall, his mind positioned itself on some curation of autopilot while his feet carried himself faster than they’d ever had before. The walls shifted around him in a blur as he’d bumbled himself into the room that Leon had been assumedly pounced upon; he thought they’d cleared the fucking place. 

It was refreshing to see that Leon hadn’t been the limp corpse on the floor as he’d entered.

Instead, while Leon was on the floor, Chris was swift to note that a hand had been covering his side; his knees hit the battered laminate tiles with such a force that almost hurt as his weight dug itself downward.

“We’re done here, we need to get you out and patched up for medical to take over.” It was spoken more for himself than it’d been for Leon, a hasty mutter of wording through the tightened recesses of his throat as his eyes darted across the sickly splatter over his knuckles.

[wolfsquads]

@hollowagent sent in:

' there you are , redfield . thought i was gonna have to send the hounds out lookin' for you . ' :) hi

Leon at his door was a less than expected sighting.

Skipping over the events of a stroll down memory lane, Chris had become somewhat of a hermit in the weeks following. There was something in his chest that sat and festered itself– it was never over, not like that. That was just the beginning to something else, and he’d be a liar if he’d said he hadn’t been losing sleep driving himself insane in the late hours of the day looking over the same few records, notes, map fragments. 

It was a feeling within his core that went without peace; a consistent barrage of what ifs and too many variables that left him uneasy. 

They’d saved two – three people, if he wanted to look at it from a positive scope. It was everything that existed in the background of that, every life that doubled that count of those taken for those forgiven. 

It was paranoia, at the end of the day.

Between the bare crack of his door, allowing the gentle luminescence of the moon to curl around their frames, a huffed chuckle parsed itself over his lips. More air than sound falling from his lungs as a twitched smile tugged at the corners of the part. 

“Worried about me or something?” 

His voice was roughened, curated by exhaustion and a lack of sleep; it’d almost been a sick twist of what it did sound like if he’d slept– unused. “It’s rude to use a guy’s team against him, you know.” 

[wolfsquads]

@diedindulvey sent in:

"Wanna stick around? Smoke a joint?"

Ethan had come pretty far in his weapons training. 

The last few months had been a hone on less impulsivity, more strategy; focusing on sensory details, muscle memory. Elements that could all pull themselves together in the heat of a moment for a shot that would either be debilitating or lethal, per the level of threat. Chris was thorough, and he wanted to ensure that Ethan felt confident in himself and his ability to keep his family safe. 

For Chris’s mind, he would feel better knowing that Ethan had some proper training when it came to using a firearm, and didn’t have every shot based on pure luck. 

He’d been disarming and stripping his gun down, pulling the pieces to place everything back in the bag of goodies he’d brought to this session when the question hit his ears. 

Smoke a joint?

A peer up from the bag landed on Ethan’s form before slowly dropping back down to the bag full of gun fragments. 

“Not my style.” A finger and thumb came to clutch against the zipper once he’d tossed a lagging clip in, pulling the tag against its seams, “Not anymore, at least. Used to dabble a lot when I was younger. If you need a sitter, I’m happy to watch you get stupid. Get more pleasure outta that nowadays, if I’m being honest.” Alcohol was the preference, though he went light with that as well. 

[wolfsquads]

@devilshowdy sent in:

" you wanna listen to some records? " they're gonna johnny cash it up~

Given the fact that they were currently – unfortunately – driving together, there was no plausible way for them to listen to a goddamn record. A CD, sure– but he didn’t have any of those laying around the truck issued for this assignment. 

Or– not so much issued, but acquired. 

Chris let his eyes peel from the road just to glance in her direction, a creased brow relieving itself of its tension to raise upon his features. “You’re a piece of work.” It was uttered under his breath as his vision danced back toward the dusk of the road, each headlight framing either side of the narrow, one-way path. Somewhat of an off-roading situation, with dirt kicking beneath the tires. 

“We’ve got a radio, not a record player. Don’t think music is a good idea right now, either way.”

[wolfsquads]

also while i’m here, give this a lil ♡ and i’ll send the boy to your inbox at some point today.

[disgustinggf]

don't let my tits distract u from the fact that i'm not ok in the head