Cw: 18+ MDNI, crude language, suggestive NSFW content
Tags: aggressive!Krauser, toxic!Krauser, enemies to "lovers", doctor!Reader, push-pull dynamic, Jack Krauser x Fem!Reader
For part 1, click here. This is part 2 of the series.
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The path to this unknown base was long and uneven. For all you knew, it could have even been non-existent. Given your physical state, both fatigued and weary, not knowing how much further was mental torment. Roots sprouted from the ground, daring to trip you at any second. At this point, the sun had completely set. You were heavily relying on your sense of sound to make out the people around you, let alone your own footsteps.
“My ass is killing me,” Chris said, finally breaking the silence.
“Even with all that padding?” Leon mocked from the front of the line. With your surroundings reflecting little to no light, you could only imagine Chris’ expression littered with irritation.
“There’s no need for small talk,” Krauser ordered from beside Leon.
“Life of the party,” you say, your voice only a whisper under your breath. Even with the poor visibility, you could make out the flinch from Krauser’s figure in front of you, his shadow briefly halting in the moonlight.
“How much further, anyways?” One of Chris’ men called out from the back.
“Is the BSAA made up of runts?” Krauser barked. “The base is just up ahead, relax.”
“One hell of a partner, Leon,” Chris grumbled. The rest of the walk remained silent, almost awkward. Regardless, Chris was speaking for all of you. Even spending the additional five minutes walking to the base in Krauser’s presence was daunting. Despite your own irritation, seeing the artificial light flicker on the official USSOCOM grounds brought you a sense of relief. You took in the details of the two-story building before you. It was long lengthwise, surrounded by fencing and heavy artillery. You couldn’t help but wonder what they were protecting within, or maybe what they were keeping out. Major Krauser made no effort to excuse himself, simply disbanding from the group. Almost instantly, Leon’s expression grew a little softer under the fluorescent light. The lone agent took charge of chauffeuring you and the BSAA party around the base before dropping everyone off at their respective rooms. You were the last to be escorted.
“Big guy’s real moody, huh?” You say to Leon, a gentle smile on your face.
“It’s getting annoying, having to keep on apologizing for his behaviour,” Leon confides before opening the door to your temporary residence. Taking a glance in, it was nothing more than a standard hotel room. A single bed, nightstand, a lamp and a desk, it looked decent enough. However, the lack of a bathroom—implying communal showers—wasn’t entirely favourable.
“So, you know Chris from the R.P.D.?” You ask Leon, the two of you standing in the dimly lit hall.
“Yeah, it wasn’t a formal friendship, though. I was with his sister back when Raccoon fell,” Leon replied.
“Jesus, one hell of a trauma bond,” you joke, even though you couldn’t really tell if your humour was appreciated. Your worry diminished when Leon let out a small laugh.
“You could say that,” Leon said, smiling now, “although I’d prefer to take a girl out than show her my gun on day one.”
“Oh, but of course, wouldn't want to rush things,” you continued, pleasantly surprised by Leon’s lightheartedness.
“I won’t keep you,” Leon said. “It’s one alarm system that wakes everyone up in the morning. You’ll want to get to sleep soon.”
“That sounds very appealing,” you reply, stepping into your room. Leon excused himself, and you watched him turn the corner before shutting the door. Looking around the room with a little more attention, you pick up the subtle grime that painted the floors. It was as if someone vacuumed once and felt it wasn’t necessary to do so again.
You placed your luggage on the desk, which appeared to be more recently wiped down. The clock flashed 11:38 p.m. in red pulses to your right. Your body felt the weight of your exhaustion, but your mind stayed alert. Throwing yourself onto the bed, the springs screaming with each retraction, you look back at the clock. 11:40 p.m. blinked at you.
“Ugh,” you exclaimed before getting up and grabbing your toiletry bag. You reasoned with yourself that everyone should be too beat to shower tonight. This would allow you to start your bathroom routine during their off hours. Throwing on a robe, you slumped down the hallway, tracing your way back to the change rooms Leon had shown you earlier. To your dismay, the showers were co-ed. Either the men here were perverted, or the women who were hired didn’t seem to mind. You decided on the former.
Peeking past the door, the lights were shut off. Your intuition on everyone else’s sleep schedule was right; it was off hours. Flicking on the lights, you inspect each shower stall, picky about its cleanliness. After finding a suitable corner, you hang up your robe and the rest of your shower-commodities. Fiddling with the water temperature was unnecessarily difficult. Bursts of hot and cold streams shot from the head before you managed to decode the best angle for the dial. Eventually, the steady heat from the water gave you some relief. Other than the water flow, the facility was incredibly quiet. Probably the only bonus for being situated in the middle of nowhere, deep within a forest. You could make out the faint buzz of cicadas in distant trees, accompanied by the sound of the leaves brushing against the windows. For once, your mind grew quiet, free of any unwanted rumination.
The heavy slam of the door swinging open bolted you forward; you spent a split second mourning the loss of your momentary peace. You could hear the activity of the individual setting up their own equipment, turning on the water with familiar expertise. Any hope that it was someone you knew left your body. With a heavy sigh, you decided it would be best to hurry up so as to avoid interaction with this person when they finished. You quickly rinsed the soap from your skin, scrubbing your face in the process.
Turning off the water, the room fell completely silent. With that, you figured during your haste that the additional shower goer had already made their leave. Pulling back the curtain, you reached for your robe, later collecting the rest of your supplies.
Stepping out, you were met with Jack Krauser. A toothbrush hung lazily from the side of his mouth, his only garments being a towel around his waist. His eyes rolled onto your body before he returned his gaze to the mirror. He didn’t bother to address you verbally. The men here were perverted after all. You scoffed before walking to the other end of the sink, setting your toiletries beside his. The last thing you’d allow a man to do is intimidate you with their blatant disrespect. Taking out your creams, you focused on yourself in the mirror. Your skin remained flushed from the steam that had accumulated in the room, the ventilation proving itself to be outdated. In the corner of your eye, you could see Krauser lean down, cupping the water to wash his face. The size of his hands looked too large next to the dainty faucet. Focusing your gaze more clearly, you noticed the heavy scarring across his body. Some appeared to be fresher than others, the most prominent one just below his navel. The rest of the scar was cut from view under the roll of his towel.
“You’re quite perverted,” Krauser scorned, turning his body flush towards you. Your eyes shoot up to meet his.
“Just looking at your mishaps, Major. You sure you’re qualified for that title?” You say innocently.
“Mm, cheeky thing,” Krauser gloated, his voice low and condescending. Your expression became sharp in his direction before you turned away, continuing your night routine as if his existence had vanished from your side. You could feel his eyes linger on your body, exploring where cloth ended and skin flourished. Viscerally annoyed, you shoved your products back into your caddie. Your movements were aggressive as you carried yourself towards the door. To your surprise, Krauser boldly stepped in front of you, blocking your path. The grip on your caddie tightened.
“Move,” you said, your voice guttural behind your teeth. Locking eyes with Krauser, he looked down on you. He had height to his advantage; you’d give him that, but nothing more. He was an empty vessel, sheathed by bone and blood. You stared at the asshole in front of you, and he looked right back. You felt he was analyzing you, his eyes darting from each corner of your face. You have never seen such an angular expression, his features pronounced, his eyes cold. You could only figure he took Daddy leaving too hard; that this was the overcompensation of toxic masculinity. Still, there was truth in his valour; even an idiot could recognize that. His strength was undoubtedly palpable. Before you could raise your hands to force him back, he retreated. The space between you opening. Keeping your tenacity, you pushed past him, checking his shoulder in the process.
“Good night, little Miss,” he cooed before returning to the sink. He watched you leave through the mirror.
Lying in bed, you once again fell victim to your mind’s incessant chatter. Events and voices replayed themselves endlessly in your head. To make matters worse, Jack Krauser had made himself comfortable in the images that passed behind your eyes. You hated yourself for it, that you could give light and power to someone even in their absence. He passed by again. This time, his body was close. The feeling of his thick skin pressed against yours, sticky from the vapour collected from your combined showers. That just feet apart, both of you stood in your most vulnerable states, hidden behind thin curtains. You jolted upwards, your covers sliding off the bed.
“FUCK!” You exclaimed, roughly running your hands through your hair. You lay awake for the rest of the night.
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The morning alarm blared through the PA system. Your eyes were dry; you knew they were bloodshot. Getting up from bed, you mindlessly dressed yourself before grabbing your toothbrush. You’d brush your teeth in your room today.
You met Jill in the cafeteria, her hands full with two bowls of oatmeal.
“You look like hell,” she said, but there was concern in her voice. “Didn’t know driving beat you down that much.”
“I had a long night,” you grouched. Sitting down at an empty table, you recounted last night’s events to your companion. You needed a second opinion.
“You’re fucking joking,” Jill finally spoke, oatmeal balled in her cheek. “He’s messing with you in some sick way.”
“Well, he certainly got me,” you respond, frustrated at your defeat in this childish situation. Before you two could further your conversation, Chris made his appearance. He opened his mouth to say something after getting a glimpse of your physical state, but decided against it.
“Bad news, Doc,” he said sheepishly, “USSOCOM requires basic military training for all members on base.”
“Oh yeah? I’m not a USSOCOM member,” you bantered.
“Guests and members alike,” Chris responded. You rubbed your face against your hands, wondering what business a doctor has on military fields.
“Since when did I trade my fucking pipettes for guns?” You signed defeatedly.
“It’s just a quick orientation, think of it like the BSAA survival training. You’ll be back in the lab by noon,” Chris said affirmingly before turning back to his men, giving them a rundown on their own schedules. Jill returned to polishing off her oatmeal when she nudged your arm. Looking at her, she motioned your attention to the far right of the room. There, Krauser stood over his own unit, Leon parked at his side. He spoke with grave authority, his prowess completely outweighing the combined stature of the other men around him.
“Asshole’s on a real power trip,” you whisper to Jill, taking a bite of your own oatmeal.
“Tell me about it, even Chris doesn’t go about dominating his men like that,” Jill responds.
The two of you finish breakfast together before going your separate ways. You were pleased to hear your mentor for the morning was Agent Ingrid Hunnigan. A woman’s presence was what you needed. She went over basic gun handling and loading mechanics. It wasn’t difficult, provided you went through the same training procedures in the BSAA, making you all the more annoyed with having to repeat these lessons. But this wasn’t something to bother Ingrid with; she, too, was only doing her job.
You didn’t take long to complete Ingrid’s checklist of skills you needed to master by noon. In fact, it was just over an hour when you placed the last piece of the shotgun back together.
“This isn’t your first rodeo,” Ingrid joked, filling out the paperwork on her clipboard.
“Should I have mentioned that,” you say to her, smiling. She let out a soft laugh before shaking her head.
“I mean, we’ve got some free time now. This was supposed to take us till noon. I can show you to the laboratory and then the rest of the military grounds…if you’re interested, of course.”
“Oh, please. That’d be really nice,” you say, accepting her offer.
You followed Ingrid around the base, listening to her share secrets about USSOCOM you thought you shouldn’t be cognisant of. Still, it was nice to listen to her voice when she wasn’t drowned out by the men and their warcries, doing whatever drills required such yelling. Stepping outside, you both walked out onto the grassy terrain, overlooking the other agents partaking in their warm-ups. You caught the eye of Jill near the back; she gave you a gentle wave.
Ingrid continued her tour by taking you across the field, entering a small building that appeared to be a gymnasium. Upon entering, you were greeted with the stench of blood. Krauser immediately filled your field of view. You watched as he swung his blade towards Leon, who merely escaped by pressing his forearm against Krauser’s striking hand. It continued on like this. Just when you thought either man would pierce through the skin of the other, one would swiftly dodge or counter the move. Scanning the perimeter of the gym, you noticed other men from Krauser’s detail, bandaged up along their arms.
“Major Krauser isn’t forgiving when it comes to training,” Ingrid said slowly to you.
“Won’t need to run a hypothesis on that,” you respond dryly, your eyes following the serpent blade clutched in Krauser’s hand. It looked almost like a ball of fire from how quickly it was moving, reflecting the light that seeped in from the windows onto the walls. It wasn’t quick before Leon was knocked off his feet, Krauser pinning him down beneath him. Leon was immobilized. The two men got up, Leon now switching places with one of his teammates. Krauser approached you and Ingrid.
“Good morning,” he said, speaking to Ingrid alone. Your brows furrowed at his distastefulness.
“Just showing our doctor around,” Ingrid replied, “hope you don’t mind the audience, Major.”
“The BSAA’s doctor,” Krauser arrogantly corrected.
“You have any other doctors around here?” You spoke up. Krauser’s blue eyes pointed at you. Their prominence was uncanny. His lips turned up into a strange smile.
“No, just you,” he answered.
“We’ll leave you to your training, Major,” Ingrid called out, ushering you and herself out of the makeshift arena. Krauser’s gaze never left you.
The rest of Indgird’s tour was more attuned to the hidden gems on the base. From the lone vending machine that spit out doubles of everything, or that unattended copy room to escape to, she was generous enough to give away her secrets. You were thankful for her kindness.
“Here’s your stop,” Ingrid said to you warmly, her arm extending to the laboratory door.
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When you finally got to sit alone with your research, it was almost too exciting. It was just you and your work, housed in the lab with fancy equipment. You could exemplify what you were good at. The USSOCOM General informed you that the antiviral you had been working on back at the BSAA matched the viral strain found in the attacks by Javier Hidalgo. While this was convenient for you, it was concerning that the spread of the T-virus had already reached such a large geographical scale.
You dimmed the lights in the lab in preparation for the sensitive compounds you were about to handle. Carefully, you maneuver different inoculated eggs, each containing the remnants of dead viruses, placing their fluid into several syringes. You inject the samples from the different strains into host cells, meticulously observing their biochemical interactions. You set several running timers, calculating the efficacy and speed at which your antiviral samples performed. One caught your attention. In a small mouse infected with T-virus, upon administration of a single dosage of the antiviral, the host’s vitals stabilized. You stood up from your chair, knocking it out from behind you. Looking more closely at the rodent, its visible symptoms are noticeably reduced. “Oh my god.” You were repeating it like a prayer, trying to make sense of this advancement. Running back to the computer, you logged in the new data, eager to send notice to the BSAA. While this novel discovery still remains uncertain in long-term trials, it was a small step deemed victorious to you. Even still, you were a long way from clinical trials.
“Quite the ruckus going on in here,” Krauser’s voice emanated from behind you. You flung around.
“What the fuck!” You exclaimed. “You get off on stalking people?”
“It’s my job to obtain quiet intel for the government.” His voice was low.
“I doubt the BSAA has any information of interest to you—it’d all go over your head, anyways.” Krauser scoffed at your mutual attitude.
“The BSAA is not important to me.”
You cock your head at Krauser in disbelief. “You wanna explain your recent behaviour to me then?” Your voice rose slightly, feeling irritated by everything that had happened since arriving at the USSOCOM base. You weren’t relieved from any of these emotions when Krauser’s expression only seemed to be entertained by this impromptu conversation, or, perhaps, your increased hostility.
"A man can’t be impressed when a woman keeps up? I’m only recognizing your efforts, Doc," Krauser said, stepping towards you. Mirroring his actions, you took a step back.
“You’re pretty sick then. The conventional person doesn’t infantilize others to compliment them.” He kept moving towards you, the width of his chest growing with each step. You had already maxed out how far back you could go, hitting the desk behind you. The two of you stood less than a foot apart, a remnant of your distance from the previous night.
“Do you understand the importance of ‘challenge’, Doctor?” Krauser faintly licked his lips. He was peering down on you for the second time. Your eyes couldn’t escape him despite his rugged intensity putting knots in your stomach. You didn’t look away.
“Challenge makes you stronger. Seems you lack many hardships in your life, Krauser,” you said mockingly. You watched him take a breath, his shoulders inflating in stature, his eyes fixed on your lips.
The laboratory door slid open, Chris walking in, a coffee in each hand. He was stopped in his tracks upon observing Krauser’s proximity to you.
“Major,” he said coldly, “I’d expect the General would be needing you at this time.”
“Naturally,” Krauser responded, his smile ingenuine. Krauser turned his back on you, his gaze focused on Chris now. You sighed at the sight, the men in parallel to stags pawing the dirt. When Krauser disappeared, Chris shot you a weary look.
“You got business with that dick?” He asks, handing you one of his coffee cups.
“Not at all,” you respond sarcastically, propping up on the desk. You tilt your head back against the wall after taking a sip of your joe. Chris only frowned at you.
“Did Jill tell you about last night?” You ask him.
“Yeah,” Chris said, sighing. “If he pulls a stunt like that again, you report him.” You could only nod compliantly. Of all the emotions you could be feeling right now, you were honestly embarrassed that Chris had caught you like that. Belittled under a man, you felt stupid.
“You know,” you say, changing the subject, “I think I made a real break with the antiviral.” Chris lit up, his face completely adjacent to yours. “Let me show you.”
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After extensive review, the antiviral was labelled a success. You sent a sample back to the BSAA as well as to the head laboratory for the USSOCOM to further analyze. However, given the current conditions of certain South American territories, specifically Mixcoatl, the USSOCOM General waived clinical trials for the antiviral in that region. He reasoned that the zombification of the local village was a worse fate than a failed antiviral administration. It was an act purely of desperation, but you supported it.
The only downside to your sudden discovery was your required presence for the antiviral administration. This translates to you having to accompany both Chris Redfield and Jack Krauser, along with their units, to the deep jungles of South America: the Amparo region of the Amazon Rainforest. That a doctor’s presence was necessary to oversee the usage of the antiviral. This news wasn’t all that attractive to you.
As for Major Krauser, for such a large man, he was easily able to conceal himself. After Chris walked in on your degenerate exchange of words, you haven’t seen him since. Maybe your preoccupation with the antiviral had kept you too busy to notice him. Or, rather, you were never alone for him to make himself known to you. Regardless, you figured it was better this way. You could narrow your focus on the mission ahead, not a mission attendee. With that in mind, you realized just how demanding the mission itself would grow to be.
“It’ll be a real experience,” Jill tried to reason with you.
“I did not sign up to wear combat boots and cargo pants, Jill.” You sat complaining on the edge of her bed, fiddling with your pocket knife. Her room was disorganized; clothes were thrown across the floor, taking up walking space, even infiltrating parts of her desk. You started picking up her shirts to occupy yourself.
“Oh, I need to pack that,” Jill remarked, taking the clothing article from your hands. “Considering you don’t want to go, you packed up your stuff pretty quick.”
“Well, I didn’t want to wait till the last minute,” you said, making a face at her. She stuck her tongue out at you.
“It’s like we're being shipped from one place to the next,” you say, groaning, “I just miss my own bed.”
“Mm, now that you say that, I should give Carlos a call.”
“My bed reminds you of Carlos?” You inquire, raising an eyebrow at Jill. She rolls her eyes at you before digging around the pile of clothes to find her phone. After losing your rant outlet, you let yourself out of her room to check over your own supplies. It would have been the third time you’ve gone over your essentials, but you didn’t want to be left in the jungle missing something. Back in your own room, you sift through your luggage. You finally conclude that everything is safely packed, but the sensation in your gut prolongs its stay, exhausting your hospitality.
You decided your best bet was an evening stroll to take your mind off things. Besides, it was inevitable to venture into the Amazon, so why did you bother to worry? Walking outside, you let the breeze brush through your hair. It cooled your skin, unlike the heat of the anxiety brewing inside you. If anything, the combat and violence expected with this mission didn’t scare you. Hell, you cut open B.O.Ws for a living. Rather, you reserved your emotions for your friends. You trusted each of them on the field, Chris and Jill, but that was when they were alone. To fight alongside them now? It made you sick to think you could watch one of them potentially get hurt. The noise returned in your head: rumination, images flickering behind your eyes. You would not let it reach that point, not let Chris or Jill fall into danger. The images still clouded your mind.
“Fuck me,” you say aloud, partnered with your heavy sigh.
“Quite the offer,” Krauser hummed, emerging from the dark behind you. You snap your head around to face him, a scowl evident on your face.
“Easy, little Miss,” he coaxed, “nothing like some fresh air before a grueling mission.”
“You know, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to see you again until we were in that jungle,” you declared. “Our reunion could be over your dead body.”
“Glad to hear you’re thinking about me,” Krauser drawled, extending his speech excessively.
“Hardly,” you huffed, walking past him. You didn’t need to deal with him right now. Before you could clear yourself of his presence, Krauser took hold of your arm, his fingers tight around your flesh. Your hand instinctively grips his, although you don’t immediately act to fight his clasp. You choke on your reaction, finding yourself only staring at him. The feeling of his skin was rough—calloused beneath your own.
“Let go of me you sick fuck.” Your voice hissed at him. You were quick to protest, but deep within your conscience, perhaps somewhere primal, a small inclination manifested. How far would he go? What someone like him was capable of under the confines of his position. His role as Major. Would he defile his moral code? And for what—some twisted fantasy? Krauser released the tension in his grip, but not his hold on you.
“You sure you want that?” Krauser stood over you, his presence large over your own frame.
“I don’t think you even know what you want,” you say, patronizing him.
“And what do I want?” Krauser steps closer to you, his hand still encompassing your arm. He smelt of gunpowder and pine. Biting back your tongue, you hastily release yourself from his grip. Taking a step back, Krauser watches you retreat. He’s motionless.
“Figure it out,” you say to him, flipping him off before returning inside the building. The iron door shut heavily behind you.
That night you dreamt of him—Jack Krauser—his body pressed over top of yours.
Along with him: the scent of gunpowder and pine.
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Pt. 3 (link to be updated)
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A/N: Teehee! I’m having way too much fun writing this lol ;)) gnawing at the bars of my enclosure or whatever Brittany Broski said
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