Chris Redfield x FtM!Husband!reader
Domestic moments with Chris after a mission
Mentions of gender dysphoria
Mentions of reader w top surgery
Written w Re6, ReDI, anddd ReVendetta Chris in mind (Ik ik a lot at once am I right)
Chris had finally arrived home from a brief mission sent by the BSAA. He couldn’t help but fold from exhaustion as soon as the door opened, fumbling to tear off the remains of his gear and then slide onto the couch— the closest, most comfiest thing nearby at the moment. He lay there for a while, basking in relief and the comfort of his own home. After a minute or so, he heard the door of the bedroom open, followed by your footsteps and a small yawn. The couch dipped with your weight as you sat down next to an exhausted Chris, hand reaching over to gently comb your fingers through his hair. “I’m glad you’re home, baby.” You whispered tiredly. Chris hummed, a smile forming on his face as he subtly leaned into your touch… “And I’m glad to be home.” He replied.
It wasn’t long before Chris had you in his lap, holding onto you like a clingy bear, his eyes closed as he listened to your steady heartbeat. One of his hands slowly slid up and down your spine, caressing you as if you were the only thing steadying him—which, you were. “I made dinner earlier,” you said suddenly, “would you like some leftovers?” Chris opened his eyes, looking up at you. “I’m the luckiest man alive,” he droned, “I’d definitely like some leftovers.”
After Chris had finished eating, you led him to the bathroom to aid him in cleaning up. Soft kisses were exchanged as your hands glided smoothly and expertly through the process of removing Chris’ clothing. Chris hummed contentedly as a kiss was placed upon his cheek. “Thank you, baby boy.” He murmured, eyes glazed over as If he was half asleep (he most likely was). The shower was started, steam slowly filling the bathroom and landing on on the surface of the mirror(s), Chris asked if you would like to join him in the shower, to which you politely declined. Chris gently pushed on the offer, saying he missed seeing you. You sighed and reluctantly agreed.
Chris helped you get undressed to repay you for helping him. He noticed your eyes avoid your own body and he frowned, a thumb gently tracing over one of your top surgery scars. “Come on handsome, I want to see those pretty eyes.” He chuckled. Your eyes hesitantly met his. Chris was crouched down in front of you, admiring you in all of your glory in this currently vulnerable state. You didn’t feel like looking down at yourself today, dysphoria had gotten the better of you without Chris being there to stabilize you— just him being home and calling you his husband or anything masculine gave you gender euphoria. You almost winced at the sight of yourself: you looked like a fake man. Chris frowned once more and got up to press a kiss to your temple. He tried to lightly tease you with, “Are you so hot you can’t even look at yourself?” And he was happy to get a smile and a giggle out of you. “There he is.” He murmured sweetly into your ear before pressing a kiss right below it.
You both washed each other through calming touches. Chris had ran his hands over you as if you were a sacred piece of art, lightly caressing areas to spread soap over your skin as the water from the shower followed suit. More kisses were exchanged and you two hopped out to dry off. Chris slid on his boxers and shorts, then offered you one of his shirts to wear in bed. You took the offer, also sliding on your boxers. After some more of a basic hygiene routine, you both slid into bed.
Your head lay gently on Chris’ chest as one of his arms lazily went over you, hand playing with your hair. “Goodnight, Y/n.” He whispered, kissing you on top of your head. Slowly but surely, the both of you drifted off to sleep.
