Resident Evil Oneshots

Irresponsibly (Chris Redfield x S.T.A.R.S!reader)

S.T.A.R.S!Chris Redfield x S.T.A.R.S!Reader

Summary: After an irresponsible night, Chris and the reader are loosely confused about their friendship.

Warning(s): Referenced sexual content.

No pronouns used.

Words (1529)

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Sunlight hazed through the blinds, the beams hitting your face and making you let out a scoff of annoyance. Wait. Blinds? You don't remember having blinds. You have curtains— your thoughts were cut off when you felt movement beside you; you heard shuffling against the sheets and a quiet groan. You quickly sat up and looked around the room. The room was messy and cluttered, with clothes strewn about and a few posters of half-naked women on the walls, and one thing caught your attention.

A jacket.

Not just any jacket.

No.

A leather one. A brown leather one.

with very familiar detailing on the back. Which made your heart sink but also skip a beat at the same time.

You looked to your right and stared at the familiar tufts of brown hair that stuck out from under the blanket. You gently grabbed his shoulder and shook him awake.

"Chris? Wake up, it's time for work... I think." You mumbled softly and resisted the urge to touch his soft, messy hair.

He let out a sleepy hum and turned his body to face you. Your eyes met blue ones, ones that made you feel warm on the inside. His eyes widened, and his cheeks turned a soft, rosy red.

"What are you doing here?" He asked quickly and sat up, the blanket uncovering his bare chest.

You looked down at yourself to make sure you weren't nude, and fortunately, you were in one of Chris's shirts. One of his S.T.A.R.S. shirts, with the logo on the sleeve and where a breast pocket would go, which was a soft white cotton. Chris squinted his eyes and looked around the room with confusion.

"Did we...?" He trailed off and felt his face heat up more at the thought of you and him together.

"I don't think so. God, I have a hangover." You muttered and rubbed your head, the throbbing headache clawing at you.

"Me too," Chris replied, and he stood up, only clad in a pair of boxers. "I'll go get us some medicine." He murmured and left the bedroom, leaving you with your thoughts.

After a few minutes and a few curses, Chris came back with some Tylenol and a bottle of water. He sat on his bed and handed you two of the white pills and the water. Chris opened the bottle of water for you and watched as you swallowed the pills with a mouthful of water. You handed him the bottle so he could take his, and you laid back on the bed. Chris took his and set the bottle of water on the bedside table.

Chris looked at the alarm clock and read the red numbers.

7:13....

"Oh shit. We've got to get ready for work." He huffed and stood up, walking to the mahogany dresser. He opened the middle drawer and pulled out a pair of tan pants. He clumsily pulled them on, buttoned them, and zipped them up. He looked over at you and gestured to the shirt you were wearing.

"What happened to your clothes? He asked and tilted his head to the side, an adorable, confused expression on his face.

"I dunno. I woke up in this," you answered with a shrug, and you tried to bite back the smile fighting its way onto your lips.

"Do you need clothes to wear?" He inquired and searched around in the drawer. He soon pulled out a pair of pants and tossed them to you. "They're the smallest pair I have; if you need a belt, you can use one."