chris redfield/angst/comforting him some time after the events of resident evil 6 and losing his entire team
Grief.
Pairing: post re6!Chris x gn!reader
Words: 1000 words
Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of grief.
Plot: After the events of Edonia and Lanshiang, Chris finally returned home carrying the weight of every soldier he couldn't save. Exhausted, grieving, and drowning in guilt, he expected another sleepless night haunted by ghosts. Instead, he found you waiting for him. Sometimes healing doesn't begin with forgiveness. Sometimes it begins with someone willing to hold you while you fall apart.
A/N: Hey! I absolutely love this kind of angst 😭 I know for some people Chris would never cry, but I felt like it could be a good moment for him to actually let himself do it. He lost his entire team, and seeing you waiting for him is all he needed to finally allow himself to cry 🤧 hope you enjoy it, and thank you for requesting! ❤
Taglist: let me know if you want to be added!
How to request.
The front door opened shortly after midnight. You had been awake for hours. The lamp beside the couch cast a warm glow across the living room, but it did little to calm the knot twisting in your stomach. Every sound outside had made your heart jump, every passing car had made you glance towards the window. When the lock finally clicked, you were already on your feet. The door opened slowly. And there he was. For a second, relief flooded through you so fast it almost stole your breath. Then you really looked at him. Chris looked awful. Not injured, not bleeding, just… broken. His shoulders seemed heavier than you remembered. His eyes were hollow, shadowed by exhaustion. Rainwater dripped from his jacket onto the floor, yet he made no move to step further inside. He simply stood there, staring, like he wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten home. “Chris?“ His gaze lifted. The moment he saw you, something in his expression cracked.
You crossed the room immediately. The second your arms wrapped around him, his body went rigid. For one terrible moment, you thought he might pull away. Instead, a shaky breath escaped him. Then another. And suddenly, he was holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him upright. Your heart shattered. “Hey…” You whispered. His face buried itself against your shoulder. You felt him trembling, not from cold or the rain, but from the sheer effort of holding himself together. “You're home.“ The words were barely audible. Chris' grip tightened painfully. As though letting go would make everything real. For several minutes, neither of you spoke. Then you felt it. A single drop of moisture against your neck. Another, and another. Your chest tightened. Chris wasn't a man who cried easily. You had seen him injured, angry, terrified. But this? This was grief. Raw and unbearable.
His shoulders shook once and then again. And suddenly, the sound that left him was so small and broken that it nearly brought tears to your own eyes. “I'm sorry.” The words came out strangled. You pulled back slightly. “What?“ His eyes were red. “I'm sorry.“ He repeated. “Chris-.“ “I'm sorry…” His voice crackled completely. “I should've saved them.“ The room fell silent. You knew immediately what he meant. His team. The people who had followed him, trusted him, and died under his command. His breathing grew uneven. “They believed in me.“ You reached for his face. He barely seemed to notice. “They followed every order I gave.“ His eyes dropped to the floor. “And they're gone.“ The last words sounded almost impossible for him to say.
You guided him towards the couch. Chris sat heavily, staring at nothing. Like he was seeing ghosts. You sat beside him. For a long minute, the only sound came from the rain outside. Then he spoke again. “I knew them.“ His voice was hollow. “I knew every single one of them.“ Your throat tightened. “I knew their families.“ He swallowed hard. “I promised them I'd bring them home.“ The sentence nearly broke him. His head dropped into his hands. “And I didn't.“ You moved closer instinctively. “Chris.“ "Don't." His voice was rough. "Chris, please..." You said with a tight knot in your throat. "Don't tell me it wasn't my fault. I failed them.“ You tried to make him look at you. “You didn't.“ “I did.“ His voice rose slightly, not angry, but desperate. “I was their captain.“ You took his hands before he could hide behind them again. “No.“ His eyes finally met yours, filled with so much pain it almost hurt to look at. “You didn't fail them.“ A bitter laugh escaped him. “Then why are they dead?“ You had no answer. Because there wasn't one. No perfect sentence, no magical reassurance, just devastating truth.
Sometimes terrible things happened, sometimes good people died, sometimes there was nothing left but grief. And Chris had always carried grief like it belonged to him. Like every grave should have had his name on it instead. You brushed your thumb across his knuckles. “Do you know what they would say if they could see you right now?“ His jaw tightened. “They'd tell me I should've done better.“ You shook your head. “They'd tell you to stop blaming yourself.“ His eyes closed immediately. As though hearing that hurt more than anything else. A shaky breath escaped him. “They're dead.“ The words came out almost pleading, as if he needed you to understand. “As long as I'm alive, they're dead.“ Your chest ached. You slid closer and wrapped your arms around him. For a second, he resisted. Then he collapsed into you completely. Years of discipline, training, and forcing himself to stay strong were gone in less than a second. His forehead pressed against your shoulder. And he cried quietly, hopelessly. The kind of crying that came when someone had carried too much for too long. You held him through all of it. Through every trembling breath, every apology, every whispered name, every ounce of guilt he tried to pour out. And when his voice finally disappeared altogether, you simply kept holding him.
Eventually, the storm inside him began to quiet. Not because the pain was gone, it clearly wasn't. It would still be there tomorrow, and the day after that, and perhaps for years. But he wasn't carrying it alone anymore. You pressed a kiss against his hair. Chris' arms tightened around you. For the first time since he'd walked through the door, some of the tension left his body. Not much, just enough. Enough to breathe, rest, and to remember that he had made it home safe and sound. And when exhaustion finally dragged at him, his eyes slipped shut. You stayed exactly where you were, holding him in the silence, through the grief, through the guilt, while the rain fell outside and the world kept turning. And for the first time since losing his team, Chris allowed someone else to carry a piece of the weight. Just for tonight, he didn't have to be Captain Redfield. He only had to be Chris.
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I feel like in all the Riddler fics I see (mostly Arkham Eddie) his partners are supportive of what he does. Where's the gut-wrenching angst? Like what if he had a partner before he got arrested that first time which caused a split and is fighting with his own compulsions later in life when he realizes what he lost :( There's potential here
Summary: Chris takes Adrian to an underground indie-rock gig where he meets you.
Tags/warnings: x alternative!female reader, swearing, alcohol consumption
Notes: Hope you like this anon! I had a great time writing it!
Adrian was never one for going to gigs, not like this -no designated seats, no space- but he’d been asked by Chris.
He couldn’t let his best friend down.
Stepping carefully down the stairs, avoiding the sticky puddles of alcohol spilt on the floor, he made his way into the main room, Chris at his side.
Adrian’s nose scrunched up, the place reeked of sweat, beer and the sickly sweet smell of someone’s candy floss flavored vape- something that they should have not been doing in an enclosed area.
He huffed at the thought, if he came across them he’d give them serious stink eye and a lecture to boot if that wasn’t enough.
“You good, bro?” Chris asked
Adrian swallowed thickly, people brushed past him leaving light touches that made his skin crawl, even through the sleeves of his dark blue jacket.
“Hmm- yeah, yup, all good.” he replied, monotone, blank.
“Want me to get you a beer to loosen up?” Chris suggested, unconvinced, but Adrian couldn’t hear a word, eyes unfocused, the low bass and harsh drums pulsing in his ears.
Everything was a blur, moving bodies, flickering bright lights, words on the poster-clad wall muddled -something like a haze, everything too much and not enough at the same time.
Then he saw you… and he was immediately absolutely fucked.
You’d made your own small space in the corner of the crowd, dancing with reckless abandon, in your own world. Keeping the beat, you stomped around in your cobweb patterned boots, the spider charms on the zippers flinging from side to side. Your long sleeves fluttered as you flailed your arms up and down to the rhythm.
Adrian was entranced.
He didn’t realize had been walking until he was stood right beside you, blinking out of his daze.
His breath hitched, he darted his eyes back behind him, searching for Chris.
But Chris was nowhere to be seen, lost in the sea of people.
Fuck.
Adrian’s mouth moved before he could think better of it, “Hi.”
Your head snapped towards the voice, somehow cutting through the boom of sound from the band, “Hi?” you replied.
Your eyes met with the man, his mouth gaping, he looked unsure but sweet, with messy curls and glasses askew. He was cute.
“Sick dance moves!” he said, hands gesturing towards you, a little awkward, smiling wide, he spoke earnestly.
At that, your eyes widened, it wasn’t atypical for someone to comment on your dancing whilst you were out but someone genuinely making a compliment- that was.
You smiled back, “Thanks.”
“I’m Adrian.” he pointed towards his chest, introducing himself, confidence growing. You introduced yourself similarly. He tested your name on his lips, whispering.
“Also sick shoes, actually everything about your outfit is super sick- totally ghoulish.” he gushed, rocking back and forth on his feet.
Your brow quirked, “Ghoulish?”
That was a new one.
“In a good way.” he added.
You hummed and nodded your head upwards, “Well, I like your glasses.”
“You do?” his head tilted in thought, then he beamed, smile enveloping his whole face, somehow wider than before, “Killer.”
“I fucking love spiders!” he enthused.
“Me too.”
“And owls,” he added, “and crows and manta rays, but spiders are my favorite.”
You giggled.
“Could I- maybe dance with you?” he asked, “Teach me some of your moves?”
“Yeah.” you nudged your arm, urging him to move closer.
He inched towards you but still kept a respectful distance, “Coolio.”
“We can trade,” you suggested, “show me yours.”
He pumped his fist and started to dance, hips swaying, arms close beside droning in circles. He looked so carefree, he was like you -apathetic towards the perception of others, letting loose and wild.
And you knew, this man was going to absolutely wreck you.
You copied his movements, laughing loud.
He showered you with praise, clapping and joining you, laughing, “You’re a natural!”
Eyes shining, he motioned you to take the lead, the song changed, crowd cheering at the band, but it felt like they were cheering just for you, like Adrian was.
You threw your arms in the air, lifting your knees up and down, head banging. Adrian softened watching you, he wanted to drown in this feeling, in this moment.
Then, you looked at him, expectantly, biting your lip.
He repeated your dance, causing his glasses to fly off .
“Shit.” he exclaimed.
Your laughter grew as you reached down and grabbed the pair, dusting them off before placing them back on Adrian’s head.
He grinned, “Thank you!”
The two of you kept at it for awhile, swapping moves, talking, gradually growing closer.
Finally out of breath, you turned to each other heaving, Adrian looked a mess, curls now damp sticking to his forehead and you were sure you didn’t look much better. Adrian thought you looked beautiful.
You flushed, noticing just how close you’d grown, mouths practically touching and then…
“Dude! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
Chris broke the trance you were under, clutching two drinks in his hands, one nearly empty.
Adrian cursed.
“I did get you a drink earlier, but I kinda drank that one so I got you a new one.” Chris said, looking down, trying not to spill Adrian’s frankly overfilled beer.
He’d spotted Adrian eventually from afar, not realizing his friend had company, he looked up and- “Shit, sorry bro!”
He howled as the two of you stepped away from each other, “Didn’t mean to cock-block ya.”
Huffing, Adrian took his drink and sipped, hoping it would cool his hot cheeks. You did the same, grabbing the water bottle in your purse.
Chris winked and walked back, smirking as he pointed towards Adrian then to you, thankfully you weren’t looking as he made obnoxious kissy faces before finally turning away.
“That was my best friend, Chris.”
You smiled, putting your drink away, “He seems nice.”
“Yeah.”
You kept chatting for another hour or so, taking a seat on one of the scarce plush leather benches. Before you knew it, the band was packing up and it was 2am, you smiled sadly.
“Will I see you again?” Adrian asked, a little frantic, eyes flitting towards the mass of people filtering out the venue.
You reached into your bag, taking out your phone, typing and then passed it to him, “Definitely.”
Adrian looked down.
New Contact
Adrian (cute glasses)🕷️🩵
“Oh- you, fuck yes! Hold on.” His tongue poked out in concentration as he tapped his number in.
Handing your phone back, you checked on your Uber.
‘arriving in one minute’
You sighed, turning the screen to Adrian. He took your hand tight and ushered you up the stairs and outside, carefully avoiding the remainder of the crowd.
The cold night air was biting, causing you to shiver, a stark contrast to the warmth inside.
You looked up, smiling, “Night, Adrian.”
Your cab had shown up.
‘arrived.”
“Night.” he said gently.
Nodding your head decidedly, you reached up, cupping his jaw and kissing his cheek before you lost the courage.
You swiftly turned to the cab, “Text me when you’re home safe!” he shouted causing you to turn back, laugh and nod.
He waved rapidly, enthusiastically, as you were driven away.
Chris clapped a hand on his back, appearing from the shadows, “Way to go thimble!”
He landed his hand on Adrian’s shoulder and squeezed tight, smiling wide.
Adrian smiled to himself as their own cab approached.
“Thanks.” he mumbled.
The Uber back was quiet for once. There were no rants about animals or tv shows that Chris would groan at clutching at his head claiming a hangover despite drinking only an hour prior, or babbles about any borderline criminal acts committed by patrons that he had prevented Adrian from intervening (and therefore committing a definite crime himself).
Instead, they were just left with the soft pattering of rain starting on the windows and the screeching of the cab’s tires.
And honestly, Chris was a little concerned by it, but that concern was outweighed by the relief of the lack of noise on his ringing ears.
And Adrian?
…Adrian was left feeling absolutely devastated.
Suddenly he was sick to his stomach, and suddenly he couldn’t be happier about it.
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