#luis sera x reader

Leon S. Kennedy

Slow, teasing licks like he’s savoring dessert

Holds your thighs open with that cop grip

Whispers “good girl” every time you moan his name

Loves when you fist his hair and pull

Alternates gentle kitten licks with hard sucks on your clit

Groans into you when you buck against his face

Eye contact king, stares up while his tongue’s buried inside

Uses two fingers to spread you wider for his mouth

Will overstimulate you until you’re shaking and begging

Likes finishing with his thumb on your clit while he tongue-fucks you

Smirks when you squirt on his chin

Kisses your swollen folds after like he’s saying thank you

Secretly loves when you ride his face drunk on whiskey

Calls you “baby” in that low, wrecked voice

Tongue is stupidly precise from years of target practice

Growls if you try to close your legs

Leaves hickeys on your inner thighs as signatures

He loves to have you on your back, ankles over his shoulders

Gets off on how wet you get just from his mouth

Always cleans you up with slow, soft licks until you’re whimpering again

Chris Redfield

Manhandles your hips exactly where he wants them 

Eats you like he’s starving and you’re the last meal on earth 

Thick tongue, no mercy 

Grunts and growls against your pussy like a beast 

Loves pinning your wrists so you can’t push him away 

Favorite move: sucking your clit while two thick fingers curl inside 

Beard burn for days, wears it like a badge 

Tells you to “take it” when you’re close 

Will keep going after you come, just to hear you scream 

Laps every drop like it’s his protein shake 

Likes you sitting on his face so he can suffocate happily 

Massive hands spreading your ass while he eats from the back 

Gets rock hard just from your taste 

Dirty talk in that deep rumble: “This pretty pussy tastes so good” 

Leaves bite marks everywhere 

Loves when you squirm, he just holds you down harder 

Tongue-fucks you until your legs give out 

Smirks when you’re a shaking mess on his mouth 

Will do it anywhere; desk, safehouse floor, backseat 

20. Finishes by kissing you so you taste yourself on his tongue

Albert Wesker

Clinical precision, devastating results 

Treats your clit like a goddamn experiment he’s already solved 

Cold, calculating eyes watching every twitch 

“Come for me. Now.” and you do 

Uses his superior strength to lock your thighs open 

Tongue moves inhumanly fast when he wants 

Loves edging you for science (and his ego) 

Calls you “specimen” or “darling” depending on his mood 

Fingers you at the exact angle that makes you see stars 

Likes you blindfolded, sensory deprivation kink 

Will stop just to make you beg in that icy voice 

Obsessed with how many times he can make you come untouched 

Licks a perfect line from your entrance to clit, slow and deliberate 

Smug bastard hums in satisfaction when you soak his face 

Favorite position: you spread on his desk, legs forced open by his grip

Leaves you ruined and still somehow composed himself 

Wears the gloves sometimes just to feel you clench around leather fingers

Records your moans for later “analysis” 

Growls “perfect” when you finally break 

Cleans you with slow, possessive licks like he owns you

Carlos Oliveira

Enthusiastic as fuck, like Christmas came early 

Grins against your pussy before diving in 

“Tastes so fucking good, princesa” 

Sloppy, wet, noisy; zero shame 

Loves when you grind on his face 

Tongue flicks fast and playful 

Sucks your clit like it’s candy 

8. Fingers you hard while he eats 

Begs you to sit on his face and smother him 

Laughs when you squirt, he’s proud 

Talks dirty in Portuguese when he’s drunk on you 

Will keep going until you push him off 

Favorite move: spelling his name on your clit 

Big hands gripping your ass to pull you closer 

Gets pussy-drunk in under a minute 

1Loves 69 so he can feel you moan around his cock 

Leaves you with a goofy satisfied grin and a soaked beard 

“One more, babe, c’mon” even when you’re crying 

Kisses your clit like it’s his girlfriend 

Always ends with “best meal I ever had”

Piers Nivans

Gentle at first, worships you 

Then gets desperate the wetter you get 

Pretty boy moans into you like he’s the one getting eaten 

“Please let me taste you more” 

Perfect balance of soft licks and firm sucks 

Loves when you praise him, makes him work harder 

Fingers you slow and deep while his tongue circles 

Whimpers when you pull his hair 

Favorite position: you on your stomach, him eating from behind 

Obsessed with your scent, buries his nose too 

Gets teary-eyed when you come on his face 

Always asks if you’re okay after wrecking you 

Tongue is soft but relentless 

Loves making you come quietly in risky places 

Kisses every inch before and after 

Secretly wants you to ride his face until he can’t breathe 

Blushes when you tell him how good he is 

Will spend an hour down there just because he loves it 

Leaves you with soft little “I love you” licks 

Falls asleep between your legs if you let him

Jake Muller

Cocky smirk before he starts 

“Bet I can make you scream in under five” 

Eats you like he’s trying to prove a point 

Rough tongue, rough attitude 

Loves when you fight him, he just pins you harder 

Bites your thighs when you get mouthy 

Fingers you fast and dirty while he sucks 

Talks shit the whole time like “That all you got?” 

Smirks when you squirt, he knew he could 

Loves eating you in front of a mirror so you watch 

Will make you come twice before he even takes his shirt off 

Tongue punches inside like he’s fucking you with it 

Favorite line: “Sit on my face or I’m not moving” 

Growls when you try to be quiet 

Leaves bruises on your hips from gripping 

Gets off on power play, makes you beg 

Sloppy and aggressive, zero chill 

Laughs when your legs shake 

Ends with a hard suck and a “good girl” 

Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like he just won

Jack Krauser

Dominant as fuck; your pleasure is his mission 

Growls orders: “Spread wider.” 

Uses his size to trap you exactly where he wants 

Rough tongue, rough hands, rough everything 

Loves when you struggle, he just smirks 

Sucks your clit hard enough to make you scream 

Fingers you like he’s punishing you (in the best way) 

“Ya come when I say.” 

Will edge you for an hour just to see you break 

Eats you from behind with your ass in the air 

Leaves handprints on your thighs 

Tongue fucks you until you’re dripping down his chin 

Loves knife play, trails the flat side while he licks 

Makes you count your orgasms out loud 

Zero mercy when he’s in the mood 

His favorite reward is making you squirt on command 

Calls you “soldier” when you’re trembling 

Wipes his mouth on your thigh after 

Will do it anywhere if he decides he wants you 

Leaves you wrecked and owned

Luis Sera

Smooth-talking devil the entire time 

“Dios mío, you taste like heaven, cariño” 

Yeases with feather-light licks until you’re begging 

Then devours you like a starving man 

Smokes a cigarette right after, tastes you on his lips 

Loves when you speak Spanish back, even badly 

Tongue does this swirly thing that ruins you 

Fingers you slow while he sucks; perfect rhythm 

Grins when you pull his hair too hard 

He'd love to experiment on how quiet can you stay in public places

Kisses your clit between licks like he’s flirting 

Will edge you just to hear you curse in two languages 

Loves 69, he’s greedy 

Gets off on making you lose your composure 

Leaves lipstick-shaped hickeys if he’s wearing lip balm, which he does

Tongue piercing + skilled mouth = unfair 

Always ends with a dramatic “magnífico” 

Winks when you’re still shaking 

Will write poetry about your pussy later 

“One more taste before I go, sí?”

HUNK

Silent, methodical, terrifyingly efficient 

No talking, just the wet sound of his mouth 

Mask stays on, pulled up just enough 

Cold eyes watching you fall apart 

Eats you like it’s a mission objective 

Zero expression when you scream his name 

Tongue is brutal; fast, hard, relentless 

Holds your hips down with one hand 

Loves when you cry from overstimulation 

Will keep going until you blackout-pass out 

Leaves you with a single gloved finger tracing your lips after 

No aftercare; just disappears into the shadows 

Favorite position: you tied up, helpless 

Uses his teeth just enough to remind you who’s in control 

Gets harder the more you beg him to stop (he won’t) 

Tongue fucks you like a machine 

Zero emotion, maximum precision 

Will eat you through his mask if he’s in a rush 

Leaves you ruined and dripping 

You never hear him leave, just wake up sore and soaked

Karl Heisenberg

Greedy, feral, magneto-ahh bastard 

Uses magnet powers to hold your legs open 

Tongue is rough from years of smoking cigars 

Growls “mine” into your pussy 

Loves when you squirt, he calls it “short-circuiting” 

Bites your clit just to hear you yelp 

Fingers you without his gloves, insanely warm and perfect 

Will edge you with vibranium toys while he licks 

Laughs when you beg, he just goes harder 

Uses magnetic metals to hold your legs open when you try to close them

Talks absolutely filthy “Gonna make this pussy spark for me” 

Loves eating you on his workbench 

Beard + stubble + motor oil smell = overwhelming 

Tongue fucks you until the table shakes 

Makes you come so hard you see stars, and sparks

Will keep a vibrator on you while he licks just to be a dick 

Leaves bite marks and grease stains 

Secretly soft, kisses your thighs when you’re shaking too hard

“That's a good buttercup, now scream again” 

Ends with him grinning like a maniac, face soaked

The Merchant

“Got a special deal for ya, luv” 

Eats you like he’s appraising rare treasure 

Surprisingly gentle, knows exactly what you’re worth 

Hood stays on, glowing eyes watching you writhe 

Whispers prices between licks: “One orgasm… fifty thousand pesetas” 

Tongue is weirdly long; inhuman 

Loves when you try to barter with moans 

Fingers you with gloved hands that smell like gunpowder 

Will stop just to haggle, then dive back in 

Likes you bent over his cart 

“Payment upfront” means three orgasms minimum 

Collects your panties as “collateral” 

Slow, luxurious licks; like he has all the time in the world 

Likes when you tug the hood like you’ll reveal him (you never do)

Will eat you in the middle of a deal, doesn’t care who watches 

Uses a glowing vial as a toy while he licks 

“Interest is compounding, stranger…” 

Leaves you with a discount and shaky legs 

Always throws in something extra if you squirt 

“Pleasure doing business with ya.”

Glenn Arias

Elegant, sadistic, and almost aristocratic

Treats eating you like a five-course meal

“Scream for me, darling. Louder”

Silk tie around your wrists while he works

Tongue is precise, cruel, perfect

Loves when tears run down your face from pleasure

Will make you come until you’re speaking in tongues

Calls you “my beautiful weapon”

Uses his virus-enhanced stamina; never gets tired

Fingers you in perfect rhythm with his mouth

Likes you in lingerie he can rip with his teeth

Slow, torturous circles until you’re sobbing

Then sudden hard sucks that break you

Kisses you after so you taste your own desperation

He enjoys playing a game called "how many times before you pass out"

Leaves hickeys in perfect patterns

“You’re mine to ruin” whispered against your clit

Smiles like a predator when you shatter

Will do it on a balcony, just to remind the world you belong to him

╰┈➤ ⋆˚࿔⋮ leon kennedy

loves worshiping your body and making you feel loved

sees marking as a sign of affection rather than possession

leaves a lot of marks near your inner thighs, chest, and neck

loves giving and receiving; leon's obsessed with being shown how much his partner loves him

his placements and marks are deliberate and soft, he loves taking his time with you

╰┈➤ ⋆˚࿔⋮ chris redfield

absolute zero shame; will intensely kiss your neck while out on date night

loves the idea of getting you flustered in public

anytime you give him marks, he will flaunt them proudly-- short sleeves, tank tops, unbridled confidence

he takes any and every opportunity to show off his marks, even finding casual excuses to go out (washing your car, going to the gym, grocery shopping, etc)

╰┈➤ ⋆˚࿔⋮ luis serra

calls them 'souvenirs' or 'gifts' anytime he marks you

weirdly sneaky with his hickeys, you're always finding new marks in new places

will purposefully leave marks on your neck when he knows you have an important event coming up

teases you relentlessly when you're embarrassed about them

will question when you try to cover them up, playfully of course

╰┈➤ ⋆˚࿔⋮ carlos oliveira

likes them a little messy

he loves seeing other people know he's taken

prefers to receive rather than give

traces the marks you give him like a badge of honor

acts cocky about it at first, but secretly loves the attention they get him

╰┈➤ ⋆˚࿔⋮ billy coen

doesnt love the attention, so visible hickeys on himself makes him tense

loves the idea of other guys seeing marks on you, knowing you're taken

prefers hidden ones: collarbones, chest, places just for you

loves kissing and touching your body, his marks scatter your skin like sun spots

╰┈➤ ⋆˚࿔⋮ piers nivans

LOVES receiving !!

overthinks how obvious they are

steals your concealer to cover the hickeys, fails miserably

absolutely melts anytime you kiss his neck or give him marks

╰┈➤ ⋆˚࿔⋮ jake muller

cocky about it if youre being bratty, "that's not what you were saying when my lips were on your neck"

gives them impulsively, without even realizing it

loves when you mark him, especially if its obvious

treats it like a game: how many can he give you, how long can they last, etc, etc.

╰┈➤ ⋆˚࿔⋮ albert wesker

does. not. like. being. marked

if he allows it, its hidden and intentional

enjoys the control of giving you marks

will make you wear clothes that reveal the hickeys he gave you

theres not much kissing in general for him; he prefers to watch you like a performance

╰┈➤ ⋆˚࿔⋮ ethan winters

gives them accidently, but enthusiastically

he's pretty vanilla and domestic, but will absolutely give you hickeys when you ask

likes giving you marks where only HE can see

confused at first, "Oh-- did i just do that?"

You would work at the DSO too, probably will have interacted with Leon a few times here and there but nothing much deeper than friendly conversation by the coffee machine.

You weren’t a field agent so took up a mix of various other positions, but primarily worked with victims of whatever BOW attacks that agents had responded to.

This became especially crucial when a little girl, who you later learned was named Emily, was brought into the DSO building and placed in a calm room… your office.

She was very shaken and anxious. It was obvious she didn’t really like new people.

Leon had given you some paperwork pertaining to Emily and the mission, in which the fact that she was previously completely blind was noted down.

This must have been very overwhelming for her to deal with.

You had tried calming her with stuffed animals and some dolls, even trying to get her to quietly communicate.

Nothing would calm her down so you resort to the one thing that calmed you down as a kid… singing.

You didn’t do this lightly, having been terrified that you would sing and you wouldn’t like your soulmate, or that he would be cruel, but the trembling girl in your arms changed things.

It was a basic lullaby that your mother used to sing to you when you had nightmares but luckily it seemed to work for Emily.

It didn’t take long for her breathing to relax and for her to curl up in your arms and drift off to sleep.

Leon was sat in his office doing a quick mission report when he felt the warm sensation in his chest.

At first he was afraid that Elpis hadn’t worked and that he wasn’t going to make it out of his office, but when the soft lullaby invaded his ears, he knew what it was.

Leon had heard about the singing soulmate, but had always presumed it was a myth since he had gotten to 49 and never once heard anyone singing like this.

However when he hurried towards the voice and opened the door to see you cradling Emily and singing softly to her, he froze.

Holy fuck he had a soulmate

Chris

For Chris, all it takes is a night at his girlfriend's house to solidify his belief in the soulmate bond.

In a similar vein to Leon, Chris thought it was total bullshit. Of course, when he was much younger he believed it wholeheartedly, but as he grew with age, that hope dwindled out as the years in the dating world hadn't exactly been kind to him, especially in his line of work.

He kept dating though, just without the hunt for his soulmate. In Chris's eyes, if he loved someone then he loved them and that was that.

He had been dating you for about a year and had been loving every minute of it.

You both took it slow which was something that he deeply appreciated.

You often stayed at his place, especially after missions. Chris would often call you and ask you to come over right after, even if it was late at night. You did often stay up to make sure he was okay.

One night in particular, Chris’s nightmares had been especially bad. Usually, they never woke you, but this time it was bad.

His jolting woke you up t about two o'clock in the morning, turning to see Chris who was coated in a sheen of sweat.

"Hey hey shhh shh its okay you're home... you're not there... I'm here." You whispered.

Chris tried to nod shakily but it ended up resembling a shiver of some sort.

You pulled him close into your chest, allowing him to feel your heartbeat against his ear.

It reminded you of when you used to watch Disney movies as a kid and lullabies were always the cure for anything, but your mother had instilled the thought in your mind that singing was bad since it meant that you would be tied down for life, and that you may not end up tied to the man that you love, instead ending up having to spend forever with some random guy.

But when the only man you'd ever loved was trembling with fear in your arms, you didn't really have a different option.

So... you sang.

The soft humming flowed from your mouth, before transforming into a soft song, a very quiet version of 'When You Wish Upon A Star', simply because you couldn't think of anything else on the spot.

Chris began to calm, the trembling turning into irregular breathing instead.

Your chest began to feel warm, almost as if there was a small fire burning, only it didn't hurt, not one bit.

"Chris?" You whispered.

He looked up at you with teary eyes.

"You feel that?" You asked. Chris nodded.

"Guess you're stuck with me baby." He huffed, before drifting off to sleep.

Luis

Luis had never met you before, but oh boy was he entranced by you.

He had been following Leon through some underground passageways, with holding cells here and there.

Some of the cells held skeletons whilst others were home to whatever horrific mutations had been born as a result of las plagas.

Luis had been having a whale of a time tormenting Leon with shitty jokes and sarcastic quips.

However, when the melodic voice of what he thought was an angel cascaded throughout the passageways, Luis froze in his tracks.

"Luis?" Leon whispered in that commanding tone of his, instantly on high alert when he heard the voice.

"You hear that?" Luis said, voice willed with awe. "An angel... a princesa... Senor I must find her."

Luis felt warmth bloom in his chest, almost as if his heart had been set ablaze from the voice alone.

Leon desperately tried to keep some semblance of order, moving ahead of Luis cautiously to prevent the man who had suddenly become possessed by the mysterious voice from further down the passageway.

However, as your voice grew nearer and nearer, Luis couldn't help himself, and Leon couldn't stop him as he surged forwards and gripped the bars of your cell.

"Princesa." He sighed, sounding almost relived as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. "It's you... after all this time."

You looked at him a little taken aback since you had never seen this man before in your life.

Of course you knew about the singing soulmate legend, all the children in your village were raised hearing folk tales that said that if you sung you would attract your soulmate.

However, you had also heard tales of the sirens that resided in the lake beside the village.

They lured you in with their voices, giving you that same warm sensation in your chest, only for them to grab you and drag you to a watery grave once you had swum out far enough.

Since then, the folk tale had terrified you, so you refused to sing.

However, after some seemingly possessed villagers had kidnapped you and brought you to the cell you were currently rotting away in, you felt that there was no point anymore, so you may as well sing.

After all, who was going to hear you?

Apparently Luis was.

After they got you out of the cell, it was borderline impossible to get him dethatched from your hip.

It turned out that your soulmate was an obnoxiously clingy and obnoxiously unfunny man, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Carlos

Carlos knew that there was a new tenant in his apartment complex, but he hadn't met them... not for the first few months anyway.

His neighbour was an elderly woman who told him that "a very pretty girl" had moved in down the hall, but that was all he knew about this new addition to their apartment complex.

It was late one summer night and Carlos was sat on his balcony smoking a cigarette when something shifted.

He felt it before he heard it, that warmth brewing in his chest that he simply put down to the cigarette perched between his fingers, only this felt different.

It felt like listening to a song that you loved as a kid but hadn't heard in years.

It felt like remembering the name of your comfort movie.

It felt like coming home to a home cooked meal.

But more than anything, it felt like peace.

Then he heard it.

Carlos had no idea what the song was, but he heard her voice carrying in the wind.

As if his heart were playing the role of GPS, he made his way to the apartment where the singing was coming from, that of the new tenant.

A young woman in a bathrobe answered the door with a slightly embarrassed expression on her face.

"I'll keep it down, I'm sorry." She hurried, looking up at Carlos.

He simply smiled warmly at her. He could tell that she was guarded, as if she were scared that someone might be asking about her singing to use her instead of to announce himself as her soulmate.

"No... don't... please don't keep it down."

In that moment, Carlos felt like he was finally coming home after years of being away.

Her eyes softened as she looked at him, realising that the same warmth was pulling her to Carlos too.

Finally, after years of lonely nights and staying up to evade nightmares, had finally found his soulmate, the one thing that would allow him a night of peace.

Karl

Karl knew about your existence from the start.

You had become Mother Miranda's newest "toy" so to speak.

Alcina adored your voice, often having you sing for her and her daughters.

They never mistreated you. Not once. You were even welcomed into Alcina's castle with your own quarters.

However, once Karl heard you sing after one of their meetings with Mother Miranda in Castle Dimtrescu, it was clear that you would no longer be residing in the castle.

Everyone in that room felt the pull between the two of you. There was something so undeniably magnetic in the air that the others simply filed out of the room with Alcina ordering for your belongings to be packed and sent to Karl's residence where you would be living.

Due to the mould, the others were much more susceptible to sensing things like this, hence why Karl felt a shift in the air before even hearing you sing once.

He never made you sing for him once you were living with him. After all, you were already soulmates so why would he have to?

You became his equal and were treated as such by the others and were always consulted and included in conversation and decision making.

leon kennedy:

this man is doing just about fuck-all during his vacation. he is lounging by the pool, mimosa in hand, sunglasses on, and pretending that there is no one around him. he will staunchly refuse to do any sort of activities or excursions the others may have signed up for.the only activity that leon will do is horizontal relaxation. he becomes so proficient at laying completely still that the hotel staff are convinced he is asleep with his eyes open. they have had to check on him multiple times.

he gets approached surely, but other than an awkward jerk of his head, does not really acknowledge it. he does have his cellphone nearby in case of an emergency, but did place a threat to hunnigan that he would willingly injure himself to avoid going back to work if they called him. leon just wears a blue pair of swim trunks. there is not a shirt to be seen on him. it does give him a crazy disgusting tan though.

(x reader): he could maybe be convinced to leave the pool chair. this does require some light begging and the use of puppy dog eyes. the whiskey comes with him. he will, however, go to a nice restaurant and have a little date night (with some light exercise back in the hotel room ). at night, he loves to go swimming in the pool with you when no one else is around. overall, you can tell he's much more relaxed than he is at home without the looming threat of being called into work. leon's more affectionate, less high strung, and generally at ease that makes it feel like a honeymoon.

chris redfield:

munching. grubbing to the highest degree. if he paid good money for all you can eat, you can bet he's running that restaurant to the ground. he is up at 5am sharp, goes to breakfast, does some laps in the pool, goes to lunch, goes to an excursion, eats dinner, drinks by the pool, and then passes out in bed. he is using every hour of that day to do anything other than his job.

he does however, have a toxic trait. chris redfield does not believe in sunscreen. claire has to go out of her way to try and hold down chris to get him to put sunscreen on. every single time, he burns to a crisp, loudly complains that he is in pain, and then goes out again with no sunscreen. it is a vicious cycle for chris redfield. he's the white guy with the apple watch tan. he listened one time when jill got mad at him, but did not put two and two together than when you put sunscreen on, you do not get sunburned. he never listened her again.

chris is wearing one singular pair of sandals throughout the whole vacation, which look like they have been through a world war. the infamous hawaiian shirt makes a comeback, which looks like it is ripping at the seams. to be fair, not many shirts fit chris redfield.

(x reader): chris will ask you to go to the bar and have a drink together. you both chat idly and make observations about the people around you, and then stumble back to the hotel room once you both are sufficiently drunk. the only sore spot for chris is when someone tried to approach you at the pool. he had to stand there menacingly (and maybe flex a little) to ensure they go away. luckily, he never has to do anything drastic. it does put him off for a little bit though, and he requires some coaxing to relax again.

claire redfield:

stays away from the boys. she is there to party and pointedly not babysit the buffoons she came her with. she is up late at night, getting drinks by the bar, chatting up people, and generally having a good time. she loves an excursion, and goes with the girls. they have a time swimming with dolphins, hiking mountains, and generally just seeing the sights. claire does try to encourage everyone to participate in some way, to varying degrees of success.

she has realized the futility of her efforts in getting chris to wear sunscreen and has decided to let him suffer. this girl does have sunscreen, tanning lotion, sunglasses, and proper swimming footwear. she's got appropriate clothes for every occassion, but does not ditch her leather jacket even when its thirty degrees outside.

(x reader): she just wants to show you the wonders of whatever place you went to. whatever you want to do, claire is your girl and will take you there. you leave the vacation with a concerning amount of candids that she took of you, that she insists you post to your instagram. you are the itinerary, and she will have a great time no matter what you choose to do. her favourite part was the bar, where you both had to talk loud over the music and lean into each other as the night dragged on.

jill valentine:

honestly, pretty similiar to leon. she is right beside him with a drink in hands, and zero fucks to give. she ar rives at the pool around mid-morning, settles into a chair next to leon, orders a drink, and then they proceed to say absolutely nothing over the course of several hours. they have this incredibly unique ability to sit in complete silence without either feeling like they have to fill the void. this drives claire insane.

she does have a tendency to stay inside when the sun is too hot, and watches tv with the ac on. she does not listen to rebecca's concerns that she could have done that at home. she loves to hit rebecca with the "but im in ____ watching tv." jill can be convinced to leave the pool under certain circumstances, which are usually claire asked nicely or that there is alcohol involved.

(x reader): she loves you, truly she does. but she also loves peace and silence. jill will sit next to you and doesn't feel the need to fill the space with conversation, and she is just perfectly content to exist next to you. it's all about parallel play with jill valentine. if you want to do something else without her, she just gives you a goodbye with a quick kiss and reminds you that she's just a text away. if you do convince her to go out, she is able to endure it for a couple hours before she's yearning for her poolside chair again. but she loves you enough to try.

luis sera:

luis sera approached vacation with a simple mindset. he will have a lady or man from each country. every experience must be pursued with maximum enthusiasm and minimum shame. if no one from the resort stops him, he will not wear anything at all. when put under duress, he will compromise by wearing a speedo. he does attempt to bother leon, but has been met with a knee to the crotch. both with speedo and without.

within twelve hours of arrivaql, luis knows everyone's business. he is there for pool volleyball, dance lessons, guided rainforest hike, and the sunset cruise. he knows who got divorced and will endlessly yap this information to those trying to relax by the pool.

(x reader): he will have you in every corner of the resort. he will find every excuse to touch you or be around. god forbid you have some peace or alone time the whole trip. travelling with luis is a state of mild public embarrassment at all times. he will absolutely flirt with you like you both are meeting for the first time, and he will drag you into absolutely everything. there is a karaoke night where he dedicates a song for you. the quality of said performance is something else entirely. he just wants to show off his sexy partner for anyone that will give him a second's attention.

ada wong:

no one knows where she is staying. she is there under a false name, somehow got a massive discount, and then vanishes for hours with no explanation. she will every so often materialize next to someone, deliver a line so devastating that it ruins their day, and then disappears. she appears beside luis while he is mid-flirting, says "no sanchos for you, i see." and then she is gone by the time he turns around.

her favourite hobby is to either annoy wesker or 'slightly' ruin leon's day. she might stalk jake and sherry a little out of curiosity. on rare occasions, she'll hang out with luis but will once again disappear the second she runs out of patience. they do take a salsa dancing class together though. ada swore him to secrecy or else she would leak his social security number.

(x reader): she still does disappear at mysterious times. but, she's aware enough to give you some comfort before she does. and there's usually a gift involved when the comes back. when she does invite you places, she will not tell you where you are going. you just go along for the ride. when she is with you, she is fully with you. ada is good at remembering small details and acts like it was obvious all along, like ordering that drink from the bar you like or exactly how you like your steak done. good luck when she invites you over to her hotel room.

rebecca chambers:

chronic overpacker. she is there with an itenerary- the best excursions, the best restaurants, the best sight-seeing locations, and prepared contingency plans. not a single person follows this itenerary. chris has already gone comatose from shrimp, leon is also comatose from alcohol, jill has locked her room so she can watch tv in peace, and claire has disappeared. she has become the designated babysitter of six extremely dumb children.

she's usually the one that will get jill out of her comfort zone. and the other, with some mildly veiled threats. she is the mom of the group, but also needs to relax herself. once you get a few sweet cocktails in her, she will either be lounging right next to jill and leon at the pool or be climbing the goddamn walls like a little bioweapon. she does not handle alcohol well.

(x reader): rebecca is gently taking care of you whether you like it or not. she has optimized your happiness, will constantly ask if you have this or that, and will provide it if you do not. she does get a little flustered when things don't go according to plan, but visibly relaxes once you comfort her. she can finally let go of being the only responsible one when you're around, and lets herself relax and do regular vacation things without raising her bpm.

carlos oliveira:

carlos wants to relax and look sexy doing it. he does come along with luis to pick up people, but usually fails. he rocks a completely unbuttoned hawaiian shirt, sunglasses that sit on the tip of his nose so he can sexily look up at people through them, and expensive slides. he also likes to take pictures of the others and send them with no contex t. carlos is a big fan of beach volleyball, but not only for the exercise, but because he thinks it makes his biceps look nice. he will casually flex for jill if she walks by, to which she ignores.

tries to compete with all the boys in arm wrestling at the bar. multiple glasses are smashed in the process. perhaps a table. he will not admit that chris beat him. he does love to swim laps in the pool though. he gets too energetic without stimulation for too long, and its a great way to tire him out before he annoys other people. kind of like a dog you need to take on a walk every day.

(x reader): carlos includes you in everything. you are on his beach volleyball team. he has already ordered you drinks. you are signed up for activities. he will invite you out to sea to try and make out with you. he will also make you watch his very shitty dives into the water so you can clap and cheer for him anyways. but his absolute favourite thing to do is walk out of the water like he's in a music video so you can awe at his physique. he also makes really shitty pick up lines that would make luis cringe. but it's oddly charming to you, and your tolerance for them only eggs him on more.

grace ashcroft:

chronic inability to relax. she is so stressed out about arriving places on time that the vacation actually stresses her out more than staying at home. she does calm down around the girls, mostly because rebecca is responsible enough to do that shit on her own. she does love documenting the whole trip on her camera, and keeps snapping embarrassing pictures of the others by accident. she has seven photos from different days of leon in the exact same pose unmoving.

she is also constantly on her laptop. girl just wants to scroll on reddit and tumblr by the pool. she is also listening to true crime on her headphones. there is nothing like sitting in a resort listening to how a woman got dismembered to grace. she would try to make conversation with everyone, but end up stuttering like always and slowly easing herself out of the interaction entirely. everyone thinks its cute, but it flusters her to no end. is secretly amazing at beach volleyball, but does not want to face piers.

(x reader): she loves to take photos of you. every single one of them are kept. grace promises she is trying very hard to relax, but her brain is constantly running a million miles a minute. you end up being her anchor point that she can gravitate towards whenever she becomes overwhelmed, and she becomes noticeably calmer afterwards. she would look around in gift shops trying to buy something cute, second guess herself, and then just ask you which couple themed item you want to share.

piers nivans:

piers, above all else, agrees to whatever chris tells him to do. this does end up with him accidentally committing to five am runs on his vacation. he is kind of introverted when it comes to strangers, so he mostly sticks to his inner circle the whole time. he is villain number two to the restaurant staff, as he and chris destroy that breakfast buffet. they are both army men that have gotten too used to rations and generally shitty food.

he is extremely competitive in beach volleyball. while carlos uses it as a way to show off, piers demolishes that twink in about five minutes. there is a distinct ball shaped bruises on carlos' leg for the remainder of the trip. he's rocking the tight henley shirt and jorts for the whole trip. he likes keeping things in his many pockets. the baseball cap and ray bans never come off so he can stay away from the sun. he's had too many farmers tans to repeat that mistake again.

(x reader): piers starts off way too structured, a little too used to miliatry lifestyle, before slowly being able to relax around you. he's also very shy around you at first, and pointedly looks away when you emerge in swimwear. piers is a true gentleman, and it shows through everything he does. while he does try to optimize the day, he checks in with you before doing anything and tries to tamp down the competitiveness in front of you.

sherry birkin:

the only person that reads rebecca's itenerary. she even highlights sections and attends four excursions. she checks on people, makes sure they're hydrated, and reminds chris that his skin is no longer within acceptable human range. she kinda sticks by grace and makes sure she doesn't have a full blown panic attack, but does get some time in to relax herself. she tries to sit by the pool and have a conversation with leon, which just ends up with her chatting his ear off for the better part of an hour with the occassional grunt back.

sherry is a fond lover of matching bikini and accessories. she bought them just for this trip, and gets a slight glow on her skin when she leaves. she is however, extremely in pain from the sun as she is pale as a ghost and has extremely light eyes.

(x reader): sherry is thoughtful in a little bit of a roundabout way. she checks in on you, but tries to do so in a way that doesn't seem overbearing. she'll fix things around you- like your drink under the shade so the ice doesn't melt and walking slightly closer in crowded areas. she is all about minimizing your stress in the little ways. she tends to remain quiet during group activities, but is talkative around you. she's not heavy into pda, but she makes it clear to everyone around that you are indeed a couple.

albert wesker:

wesker did not want to come on this stupid vacation. it's all an inefficient waste of his time, but was coerced through methods that are classified. he is still wearing black. yes, it is the trenchcoat. yes, he does have short shorts underneath the trenchcoat. yes, he does have vacation sunglasses. no one can tell the difference from his regular sunglasses.

he does not enter the pool because "i do not frolic". chris did see him one time in a bathrobe, but no one believes him. grace has multiple pictures where he is wearing identical scowls in each one. the one thing that wesker enjoys is the various animals that resort staff fold out of towels.

"Mi amor, you’re still awake?" Luis’s voice carries from the doorway, half-amused, half-concerned, as he toes off his shoes with a tired sigh. The lab coat draped over the couch arm catches his eye first, his spare one, the one he keeps by the door at home for emergencies, before he spots you, curled under it like a makeshift blanket, glasses askew on your nose, hair spilling over the cushions.

The apartment smells like overcooked pasta and faint citrus from the half-finished mojito abandoned on the coffee table. You’d promised yourself you’d stay up until he got home, but the clock on the wall reads 2:17 AM, and the documentary you’d put on for background noise had long since given way to static. Luis crosses the room in three strides, kneels beside the couch, and brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. "Dios, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day," he coos fondly, but there’s no real scolding in it, just warmth.

You blink awake, disoriented, then light up like a firework the second your brain registers him. "Luis!" The name bursts out of you, giddy, as you fling your arms around his neck. He laughs, catching you, his stubble scratching your temple as he presses a kiss there, then another to the bridge of your nose, then your forehead, relentless. "You’re home, you’re home- how’s Leon? Did you- ?"

"Shh, shh," he soothes, but he’s grinning, cupping your face in his hands like you’re something precious. "Leon’s holding on. Stubborn bastard." His thumbs swipe under your glasses, wiping away sleep crust, and you wrinkle your nose at him. "But you- mi vida, mi estrella- you should’ve gone to bed."

My life, my light.

You don’t answer, too busy mapping the exhaustion on his face, the dark crescents under his eyes, the way his shoulders slump forward like gravity’s doubled. The lab coat slips off your shoulders as you sit up, and Luis’s gaze drops to it, then back to you, his smirk lazy but bright. "Stealing my clothes now, cariño? Should I be flattered or concerned?"

Sweetheart.

"Both," you mumble, fingers already plucking at the wrinkled fabric of his dress shirt. "You smell like antiseptic and coffee." His laugh is a rough, tired thing, but he leans into your touch when you push his hair back from his forehead. "When was the last time you ate? Actually ate, not just- " you gesture vaguely at the empty energy drink cans littering his lab reports on the kitchen counter "Energy drinks and ashy protein bars."

Luis opens his mouth, then closes it when you narrow your eyes. "...Lunch?" he tries, and you groan, shoving at his chest. He catches your wrist, presses a kiss to your palm. "Ay, don’t look at me like that. You know how it gets when we’re close to a breakthrough."

"You’re worse than Leon," you grumble, but you’re already swinging your legs off the couch, tugging him toward the kitchen. He follows, compliant, his fingers laced with yours. The fridge light paints his face in stark relief as you rummage for the Tupperware you’d packed hours ago, arroz con pollo, his favorite, now cold but still edible. Luis makes a noise behind you, something soft and wounded.

You’d wanted to surprise him.

"You made this?" Luis's voice cracks as he watches you pop the Tupperware into the microwave, his fingers tightening around yours. The hum of the appliance fills the silence between you, the faint scent of garlic and saffron beginning to seep into the air. His thumb traces circles over your knuckles, a silent thank you, a silent “I’m here” even if his body is still halfway to the lab in his head.

You don’t answer, just press a Gatorade into his other hand, the one not currently clinging to you, as if you might vanish. "Drink. Now, babe," you order, nudging the bottle toward his lips until he obeys, the corners of his mouth quirking up around the rim. The microwave beeps, and you turn to grab the food, but Luis catches your waist and spins you back toward him. His nose brushes yours, his breath warm and sweet from the drink. "Te quiero," he coos, the words soft against your lips before he kisses you properly, slow and lingering, like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth all over again despite years of marriage.

I love you.

The first bite of food is a revelation. Luis moans, shameless, his eyes fluttering shut as he chews. "Dios, I forgot what real food tastes like," he mumbles around the fork, already reaching for another bite. You snort, stealing a piece of chicken from his container just to watch him pout. "You’re lucky I love you," you grumble, but there’s no heat in it, just the same fond exasperation that’s been there since the first time you dragged him out of his lab to eat proper food.

The kitchen is too small for two people, really, but neither of you moves. Luis eats like a man starved, and you lean against the counter beside him, your hip brushing his, your fingers carding through his thick, wavy hair just to feel him sigh into the touch. His free hand finds your thigh, thumb rubbing absent circles through the fabric of his stolen lab coat. "You’re gonna crash soon," you murmur when his eyelids start to droop, his head lolling toward your shoulder. "Bed?”

Luis shakes his head stubbornly, even as his body betrays him, his shoulders sagging forward, the fork wobbling slightly in his grip. "Can't," he mumbles around another mouthful of arroz con pollo. "Need to review the latest viral sequences before- " A yawn cracks his jaw mid-sentence, and you press your lips together to keep from giggling.

"Before you faceplant into your microscope?" you finish for him, plucking the fork from his slack fingers. He blinks at you, slow and owlish behind his smudged glasses. "Luis. You've been awake for thirty-six hours. That’s a new record, honey."

"Thirty-eight," he corrects automatically, then winces when you pinch his side. "Ay, okay, okay, yeah, bedtime." He lets you tug him upright, his arms looping around your waist as he stumbles into you. His nose bumps against your temple, his breath warm and uneven against your curls. "But you're coming with me," he murmurs, half-plea, half-command.

You don't argue. The bedroom is dark, the sheets cool when you tumble into them, and Luis collapses beside you with a groan. He's asleep before his head hits the pillow, his arm slung heavily across your stomach, his face smushed into the crook of your neck. You card your fingers through his hair, still slightly stiff with curl gel, and listen to his breathing even out.

The quiet settles over you both like a second blanket, broken only by Luis’s slow, even breaths against your collarbone. His fingers twitch against your hip, some residual instinct from surviving Spain, before stilling again. You press a kiss to the top of his head, his hair smelling faintly of disinfectant and his own stupidly expensive cologne. The clock on the nightstand reads 3:02 AM, but you’re wide awake now, your brain buzzing with the leftover energy of seeing him home safe.

____

Morning comes too soon. The sunlight filters through the curtains, painting stripes across Luis’s back as he stirs with a groan. He blinks up at you, bleary-eyed and disoriented, before his face crumples into something unbearably soft. “You stayed,” he rasps, his voice rough with sleep. His thumb brushes your cheek, like he’s checking you’re real. “Thought I dreamed you.”

You huff a laugh against his palm, your fingers curling around his wrist to keep him there. "Where else would I go, idiot? I’m your wife." The morning light catches the gold in his eyes, the exhaustion still lingering but softened by sleep. His stubble scratches your fingertips as you trace the line of his jaw, memorizing the way his breath hitches when your thumb brushes the corner of his mouth.

Luis exhales through his nose, a half-laugh, half-sigh that ruffles your bangs. His fingers trail down your arm, pausing to fiddle with the cuff of his stolen lab coat still draped over your shoulders. "You look ridiculous in this," he murmurs, but his voice is thick with something that makes your ribs ache. He tugs at the collar, pulling you closer until your foreheads bump. "Like some mad scientist's beautiful assistant."

"You are a mad scientist," you remind him, but he's already rolling you onto your back, his weight a comfortable anchor as he noses along your jaw. His stubble rasps against your skin, his breath hot where it ghosts over your pulse. "Luis- "

"Fuck the lab today," he growls against your throat, and the vehemence in his voice surprises you both. He freezes, then pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his own wide and startled behind his crooked glasses. "I mean- not fuck it, obviously, but- " He huffs, frustrated, and collapses onto his elbows beside you, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. "Dios, I can't even insult my own workplace properly anymore."

You bite your lip to keep from laughing, but your shoulders shake anyway. Luis lifts his head just to glare at you, but there's no heat in it, just exhaustion and fondness and the lingering panic of a man who'd almost lost too much already. His fingers find yours on the mattress, threading together tightly. "I need this to work," he says quietly, his thumb pressing into the hollow of your palm. "For Leon. For everyone."

The admission hangs between you, raw and unguarded, the first time he’s said it out loud since Leon collapsed at the DSO three days ago. Luis’s fingers tremble against yours, and you squeeze back, hard enough to ground him. “I know,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his knuckles. The taste of antiseptic lingers on his skin. “But you can’t save him if you’re dead on your feet.”

Luis makes a noise low in his throat, half-protest, half-surrender, before rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. The morning light catches the silver streaking his temples, the lines around his eyes deeper than they were a month ago. “I had the sequence right there, y’know?” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “But the viral load in his bloodstream, it’s adapting faster than we can…”

“Hey.” You straddle his hips, your knees bracketing his waist, and press your palms to his cheeks until he meets your gaze. His stubble rasps against your skin. “You’re the smartest person I know. If anyone can outthink this thing, it’s you.” His breath hitches when you lean down, your curls curtaining his face, and brush your nose against his. “But even geniuses need showers. And coffee. And maybe a break from smelling like a Petri dish.”

Quite honestly, he doesn’t see the appeal in those gothic books of yours. Sure, he loves to read as well, but he’s always struggled to appreciate the flowery words on those beautifully decorated books. It was even worse when you read poetry. You’d be loving the sonnets and artfully spelled out words, immersed in pages upon pages. He’d just sit back, confused by the sheer amount of words that seemed too long to be real.

But, if there was one thing he actually really liked about your books, it was the topics.  He has always considered himself a hopeless romantic. Apparently, you outrival him in that aspect tenfold. Your books dealt with almost exclusively topics of the romance variety.

In the beginning of his relationship with you, he had learned that about you slowly. 

You were a romantic in the classical sense. You didn’t seem to like big declarations of love or grand gifts. Instead, there had been little things.

One afternoon, he had found you pressing a daisy flower in between the pages of your most recent book, carefully arranging the petals to lay correctly. The flower was perfectly preserved, sandwiched thoughtfully between sheets of yellowing paper. He had questioned you about it, a brow raised.

You had just given him a quick smile, petting over the dried flower with a careful finger.

“It was pretty. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Then, there was the time that you two visited a local town. You both had been walking through the town square, when an elderly couple walked past you two, hand in hand. They hadn't been doing anything remarkable. Just moving slowly together beneath the evening sun. You'd watched them disappear around a corner with the softest smile he'd ever seen.

You’d turned to him, smiled, and pressed your lips to his cheek.

“I hope we’re like that someday.”

Your tone had been wistful, eyes dreamy as you looked off into the watercolor evening sky.  Luis, by opposition, had been so taken aback he had nearly walked into a lightpost, cheeks flushed. 

Then there were the letters. Madre de Dios, the letters.

He'd grown accustomed to finding folded scraps of paper in the oddest places. Inside his coat pocket before leaving for the lab. A small one tucked beneath his coffee mug. Another note folded into the pages of whichever scientific journal he happened to be reading. Most weren't long, no. But they struck him as deeply as a sonnet could.

Remember to eat lunch today.

Or, even:

Don't work too hard. I'll be waiting for you.

Sometimes they weren't even words at all, just a tiny pressed violet taped to the corner of the page. Or a little heart sketched in the margin.

The first few times, he'd laughed. Tucked the little piece of paper in his wallet for safe keeping, making a mental note to kiss you extra hard when he got home.  By the tenth note, he'd started checking his pockets before leaving the house. It was the little things that you did that seemed to make you, well, you. And it warmed his heart to think about it.

Which is why, instead of interrupting your reading, he chooses to press a kiss to your hairline instead. You don’t even seem to notice it. Your nose is buried in another one of those enormous gothic novels, your finger absentmindedly tracing along the edge of the page as you read.

Every now and then, your expression changes. Your eyebrows knit together, then soften. A tiny smile appears, before your eyes go glassy.

"How’s the book, Cariño?"

No response. You're gone. Completely lost somewhere inside those pages. It makes his lips quirk upwards into a smile.

"...Amor?"

Still nothing. Finally, he reaches over and gently nudges your sock-covered foot with his own. You jolt, blinking up at him as though you'd forgotten he existed.

"...Welcome back." He nuzzles your cheek, delighting in the way you do it back to him.

A sheepish smile spreads across your face. “Sorry, Darling. Just a good book, you know?”

"I wasn't complaining, mi amor. Just checking up."

You tilt your head, looking over at him with a soft gaze in your eyes. Luis leans back against the sofa, folding one arm over the back cushions.

"I've just accepted that whenever you pick up one of those books, I lose you for at least two hours."

You giggle a little. “Three, if it’s a good one.”

"I stand corrected." He laughs, giving you one final kiss before patting the front of your novel, “Now, keep reading. Let me know how it ends, hm?”