#꒰✒️ rose fics sft ♡.꒱

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ no life without death ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): luis serra navarro x f!reader synopsis: you watch the love of your life leave in pursuit of repentance from his former sins. inspired by @luisnavarros content: character death, hurt/slight comfort, sad letters, mentions of trauma « 0.7 k words┇masterlist┇reblogs appreciated! »

“Why are you crying, hermosa?” Luis’ smooth hand journeyed to your waist, the velvety graze of his palms pulling you closer. A sensation he knows will yield your uncertainty, the gentle act dulled the anxiety away, even if it’s just for a moment.

“You’re leaving, Lu.” The words spat out, brimmed with exhaustion. You’re about to lose him again.

Luis secured the strap of his duffel bag onto his shoulder, the other hand crinkling the one way flight ticket to Spain. Sorrow re-emerged Luis like an old friend, something that never truly goes away, especially after all the atrocies he had enabled, all the lives killed as a result. Paying the price for it, still, seven years after the incident. “And I’ll be back before you know it, eh?”

“I don’t care if you worked for Umbrella… please. Just don’t go.” Your brows writhed against each other, pupils glossy.

Luis wanted to hold you. Never let you go. Submerged you into his arms. But how could he protect anyone with hands made of destruction? How could he protect you like this? The guilt, like the black mould itself, festered in his very soul. It was now or never.

“Don’t cry, mi amor. Tears don’t look good on such a beautiful señorita like you.” His finger brushed against your lower lash line, collecting the tears in his lovingness. The steel ring on his index finger chilled your face as he moved, and you know it was futile to stop the man you love. “I must go. You know it.”

“Let someone else do it. Let them take the burden in their hands. It doesn’t have to be you.” Years and years of therapy Luis attended had allowed him to speak more about his past and came to peace with the memories. You thought he was doing so well. That he was finally going to let the past go, be with you forever. “You’ve done enough repenting. What about your happiness?”

As if consumed by your affection, Luis soothed your body into his. You saw Luis as who he was, and not just a pawn of Umbrella.

“Señora Dulcinea.” Luis ensnared your lips into his, capturing your breath through a soulful press of the lips. He planted his everything, his yearning for him, his tenderness, into a kiss so passionate, it seeped through layers of built-up apprehension. A kiss so beautiful, and one that you will never forget to be the last kiss you two will ever share. “Siempre te querré, cariño.”

“I will always be your Señora Dulcinea.” The tears almost poured out of you as you spoke, but you wanted Luis to leave on a good note. One that did not have you drowned in your own tears.

You smiled, and before you knew it, you slept in peace with Luis’ surrounding you with his warmth. Luis picked you off his embrace and placed you on the couch with a blanket over you.

A final kiss, a farewell on your forehead. He hated to leave without saying his final goodbyes, but Luis feared that his legs won't leave if you’re awake. His heart had been strung along so far by you, whether intentional or not. And that would never change.

Luis walked out of the door, and you are still waiting for him to come back to this day.

Until.

Six months later, a gentleman arrived at your door. Blonde, black suit from head to toe, guilt lingered his eyes. “My name is Leon. I worked with Luis.”

“Is he okay?” you asked, desperate. He didn’t respond, which told you exactly what you needed to hear. What you didn’t want to hear.

“Luis left a message to you.” Leon uttered and passed an envelope to you. “It took me a long time to find you. He kept you a secret, to protect you from Umbrella.”

You picked up the envelope, ripped it as fast as you could manage without damaging the contents and read:

My Señora Dulcinea, If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead, eh? Miguel de Cervantes once said ‘Hasta la muerta es toda la vida.’ There is no life without death. You gave me a second chance at living. After everything, you forgive my wrongdoings. Without you, I am a wandering nomad without purpose. Without a reason to live for. You freed me. That’s why I need to leave… If only to save one in many I’ve killed… Señora, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one last time, for leaving you. To protect you from this plaga that cursed our home. And I’ll do it all over again just to see your smile, cariño. Yours forever, Luis Serra Navarro

NOTE: I don't speak spanish. if you do & there's any inaccuracies, i would appreciate any corrections. translation:

Hermosa - gorgeous

Siempre te querré, cariño - I will always love you, darling.

Señora Dulcinea - Lady Dulcinea - a princess in the book Luis references throughout RE4R "Don Quixote" by Miguel de Cervantes

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose.

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ close wounded ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): chris redfield x b.s.s.a gn!reader synopsis: you suffered a gunshot wound on the field. your captain checks in on you, concern lingering on his face. content: angst, mutual pining, shirtless reader (body parts not mentioned), mentions of medical treatment, blood, gun wounds, death, trauma. « 1.3 k words┇masterlist┇reblogs appreicated <3 »

When you were a wee lad, you wanted to do something cool.

Serve the country despite disapproval from all ends. You didn’t learn the real cost until you join B.S.A.A. The memory of your dead friends stalked you, ostracising you from the peace you desperately desired till this day.

There was no room for grief. No room for emotions to weaken you. Yet why does your heart dance when it was just you and your captain staking out at the rest site? Why do you read the newspaper on your off days, skimming through the ‘R’ names on the obituary, praying his name is not listed?

You’re in no position to worry about others, every day your training was more gruesome than the previous. The fields were worse – not only physically abuse, but the mental torture that paints a vivid image of corpses, died in countless methods too gruesome to explain, making you imagine what yours would look like when you die.

Your weakness was how you ended up right here. Face drained of colour from the loss of blood, lips bled from holding back your screams, wrists gripped so tight your nerves protrude. Your thoughts drifted into a middle point where you’re in tune with your subconscious.

“Hang in there. Worst part’s over.” The medic retrieved the bullet that was submerged in your flesh, proceeded to clean the wound fast. They ran out of anaesthetic long ago. She needed to operate quick, you lost too much blood.

It hurt like hell.

But you’ll live. For better or worse. After everything you had witnessed. For a second, you envied the soldiers next to you who died a quick death, while you are bound by the curse of living. You relieved when the medic started wrapping you with a bandage.

Your ears sharpened at the sound of Chris’s boots hitting the floor on the other side of the curtains of the makeshift operation room, a very distinct pace you recognise everywhere to be your captain.

“Are they okay?” Chris moved the curtain aside and walk in, just to walk out the same way immediately with eyes averted before the medic could respond.

You looked at yourself, the throbbing pain on your belly led you to forget that your shirt was off, as requested by the medic for easier access to your wound. Your cheeks flushed slightly, putting your shirt back on as fast as your wound allowed you. With a long list of injured soldiers, the medic left promptly, finding the next injury to tend.

“Captain. You can come in now.” You uttered.

You watched the mud coated boots lift under the curtains, paused a beat, before entering with apprehension.

“How are you feeling?” Chris straightened up after seeing you clothed. Relieved.

“Better. Still stings though.”

You commented, keeping your sentence short in attempts to not aggravate him further. Chris was already plenty upset when you ran into the open field to save a lost child from the onslaught of bullets.

“You’re lucky you got way with one bullet wound.” Chris scoffed.

“She needs our help.” You affirmed, despite how much you liked Chris, you did what you needed to. “If I don’t make a difference, who will?”

Chris let out a deep groan. His eyebrows furrowed, exhausted. Years of baggage resting underneath those bloodshot hazel eyes. You wondered if he had a moment to rest since you guys retreated into the safehouse hours ago.

“I won’t let my team die. Not under my watch.”

The word held weight in his breath – filled with pain, sorrow, and remorse. Your hands, as if possessed by the Plaga of your own undeniable desire, outstretched an arm to place your hand on his. Chris’s gloves was all scratched up, but you can feel his exposed fingers from the glove, rugged with a sensation of safety.

You can’t find the words to say – to be fair, there was nothing you could say to him at this moment. Chris had been through so much, and you had only seen a fraction of the nightmare he had witnessed.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know you can take care of yourself.” Chris nodded, the ghost of a grin loomed over the corner of his lips as he placed a tender hand on the crown of your head, ruffled messily at your hair.

Chris rarely smiled. This is the closest you’ll get. You watched as his irises captured the colours of his surroundings, reflected the speckled dust of debris and shimmer radiantly. Only Chris could make the dirt and blood on a war field looked so spectacular.

You wanted to tell him how beautiful his eyes are, you want them to look at you forever.

And maybe it’ll feel like this world isn’t fucked up for once. That you two can just be two normal people. Maybe then you’d have a chance in love.

You expect Chris to brush it off, nod respectfully as he does to any other soldier, politely excusing himself. Only that he doesn’t. Drooped eyelids accentuating his long, thick lashes, eyes plastered on yours, expression softened.

Was it you… or was it him that stared first? Suddenly, the details are a blur.

Chris’s hand no longer laid on your head, but on your chin, a finger brushed the corner of your lip where the adhesive strip on your cheeks stuck. His blistered thumb thawed the coldness away on your cheek, melting away your barriers.

“God. Be careful. Please.” Chris whispered, almost pleading. You thought you were fooling yourself, Chris’s voice sounded… tender… loving even. “Who will take care of you when I’m gone?”

You mustered the strength to stop, but your body moved on your own. Chris’s words summoned a force so powerful it sent the butterflies straight down your spine, fluttering in your stomach. It ignited something you never thought you will have, almost forbidden and despite your body’s resistance, you found yourself inching closer and closer.

Chris didn’t respond, but his lidded eyes darted around your face, observing every trivial mark on your face, like this was the first time his eyes ever laid on yours.

“May I..?” You nodded promptly.

Chris leaned in before you could finish your second nod, no hesitation in his movements. Chris already knew your answer just from your looks. You wanted it too. You wanted it just as long as he did.

You fluttered your eyes closed.

A gentle warmth spreads from his lips to yours with just a brush, both of his hands cupping your face now. You pulled Chris closer, flushed against his bulletproof vest. It was stained with the blood of enemy and reeked pungently with decay of the undead, but you sensed a faint of warmth through it. A faint of hope, after all that you two had been through together.

It felt just right. You know it.

His chest rising and falling against yours, a breathy groan released from the depths of Chris’s throat as his grip on you tightened like Chris didn’t want to let you go.

Chris slowly parted his lips with yours, leaving you disappointed. Not satiated yet with the taste of him. The feelings come pouring out from inside of you, and the need to be with him transcended your fear.

“I have something to tell you, captain.” You said, a quiet whisper, your gazes inseparable. You wanted to tell him, pour all out all these emotions you can no longer hold together.

“I already know, my love.”

And he sealed your love for each other with a tender kiss, an imprint of much more to come.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose.