⭐️ The Night Before S.T.A.R.S ⭐️
you’re the new officer being recruited into S.T.A.R.S. The night before your first shift you decide to check out the city life here in Racoon City. The local bar catches your attention and so does a tall brunette playing pool. It all goes downhill from there.
pairing: S.T.A.R.S!Chris Redfield (~1997 era) x afab!reader (also side appearances from the S.T.A.R.S team.)
tags: nsfw, dirty talk, cigarettes, drunk sex, unprotected sex, ‘pulling out’, rough sex, blowjobs, squirting. [ * porn with plot!! Lots of plot… ]
word count: 3.7K
author note: I can’t get S.T.A.R.S-era Chris out of my head… sorry 😞
The low thrum of music vibrated through the floor of the bar, mingling with laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional cheer from the pool table near the back. It wasn’t a seedy place, but it wasn’t polished either. Dim lighting, worn leather booths, and a jukebox that kept skipping every third track. Local charm.
You sat alone at the bar, your whiskey neat - untouched for the past five minutes. You watched the game in the back corner with a steady gaze, sharp but unreadable. You looked like you belonged everywhere and nowhere—relaxed in your seat, but with an edge that made people think twice about approaching you.
You told yourself this was just a way to unwind. A new city, a new job starting tomorrow, and one night to breathe. But part of you was restless, unsure if you were hoping to be left alone or for something unexpected to happen.
Something unexpected walked in.
Chris Redfield pushed through the door like he owned the place. Broad-shouldered, loud without even speaking yet, his presence filled the room almost immediately. He tossed a grin to the bartender, slapped his teammate Forest on the back, and beelined for the pool table, already halfway into a beer.
He was buzzed, clearly, but not sloppy. Just that perfect midpoint of confidence and recklessness—eyes bright, voice just a little louder than necessary.
You caught him out of the corner of your eye and quickly looked back at your glass of whiskey.
Too loud. Too cocky. Not your type.
But then—
“Nice call on that last shot,” came a voice behind you. Low, amused. Confident.
You turned just enough to see him standing there, pool cue in hand, leaning against the bar like he belonged at your side. It was the same guy. The one with the smile like he knew something you didn’t.
arching a brow, you spoke. “I didn’t say anything.”
Chris tilted his head. “Didn’t have to. You were watching. I saw that look—like you knew he was gonna miss.” He said, referring to the other pool table you had been watching.
You shrugged, taking a small sip of your drink. “He was holding the cue too tight. Rookie mistake.”
That caught him off guard just enough to make him grin wider.
“You play?”
“A little.”
Chris extended his hand, casually. “Chris.” You looked at it, then shook. Brief. Controlled, before offering your name.
Something flickered between you both —recognition, maybe. Not of the face, but of the feeling. That gut-level spark that made you sit up straighter. Neither of you said anything about it.
Chris gestured toward the table, beer in his hand. “Come on. One game. Loser buys the next round.”
You hesitated. Normally, this was where you’d say no. You didn’t do this. Didn’t take strangers up on casual drinks or flirtatious pool games. But… there was something disarming and dreamy about the way Chris stood there, waiting, not pressuring. Almost like you could trust this cocky man.
Was he even truly cocky? Or just drunk? Time would tell. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the city…
You slid off the barstool and spoke; “One game.”
The bar wasn’t exactly packed, but people turned to watch when you took the cue. Maybe it was because you moved like someone who knew exactly what you were doing—or maybe because Chris Redfield, local favorite chaos machine, had just challenged a woman no one had ever seen before. Racoon City was more of a small town after all. Newcomers always stood out like a sore thumb.
Chris racked the balls lazily, grinning to himself.
“You want break?”
You raised a brow. “You sure?”
He shrugged, leaning against the table, one hand still holding his beer. “Ladies first.” He said, before taking a big gulp - enough to finish his drink.
You gave him a dry smile, leaned down, and broke the rack clean—sharp, powerful, without a trace of hesitation. Two stripes sunk immediately.
Chris straightened up. “…Okay, damn.”
“Still sure you want to play?” You asked, cue in hand, eyes fixed on the next shot.
“I like a challenge,” Chris said. “Especially when it’s cute.”
You paused, just for a second. It was a cheesy line, but there was something about the way he said it—unfiltered, like it wasn’t part of a game. You hid your smile as you lined up your next shot.
The two of you went back and forth for a while. Chris was good—better than he let on—but you were precise. Focused. You moved like a sniper in disguise, never wasting a shot. Chris, for all his bravado, was clearly impressed.
“You military?” he asked at one point, when you made a difficult bank shot without blinking.
You glanced at him, carefully. “Something like that.” A smirk appeared on your face.
He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Figured. You’ve got that posture. That no-bullshit thing going on.”
“You, on the other hand,” you said, stepping back so he could take his turn, “look like trouble.”
Chris grinned. “I get that a lot.”
As the game wound down, it was clear you were going to win the game. Chris didn’t seem to mind. He was having more fun watching you, than trying to win a silly pool game. That cockiness and eagerness could be saved for the next time he Played with Joseph or Barry.
When you sank the final shot, he held up his hands in mock defeat.
“Well, damn. You’ve got a hell of an aim.” Chris said, his eyes never leaving your face. For a moment he could have sworn he felt his cheeks turn red, but that had to have been the alcohol. Right?
“Thanks,” you said, resting the cue on the table. “You’re not bad yourself.” You winked.
Chris grabbed his wallet, pulled out a few bills, and handed them to the bartender. “Another round for the pretty lady. And one for me.”
You hesitated. This was the part where you should say goodnight. Walk away. Go home. Sleep. Big day tomorrow…But you didn’t move. Something compelled you to stay. After all - being new to this small town, you’d definitely need a friend, or two.
“You always this forward with strangers?” You asked softly.
“Only the ones I don’t want to stay strangers.” Chris said bluntly. Enough to make his two friends, Joseph and Barry peer over out of curiosity. There was a pause. Not awkward—just charged. Like both you and Chris knew this night wasn’t going to end here.
You sipped your drink. Your cheeks were a little warm now, but you blamed the whiskey. “What if I don’t want anything serious?”
Chris met her gaze, surprisingly honest. “Neither do I. But I also don’t do this with just anyone.”
That made her blink. It was unexpected. So was the way her heart tugged a little at his statement. She felt like a hypocrite…
Maybe it was the city. Maybe it was him.
A beat passed.
“Listen, you wanna get out of here, sweetheart?” he asked, quieter this time. Hoping his friends didn’t notice. For all his stories of hooking up with various women, he didn’t want you to feel any kind of pressure.
You didn’t answer right away. Just held his beautiful brown eyes for a second too long, then nodded once. Before you knew it, you were walking the streets of Raccoon City, heading to his apartment while he smoked a cigarette.
Once you arrived, the night turned into a blur. One minute you were gently taking off your shoes and placing them neatly - the next, chris had you pinned against his door, making out with you sloppily. The two of you together both smelt of cigarettes and alcohol but neither of you cared. Right now you both needed more. Needed each other.
With your arms pinned above your head and Chris’ tongue still tangled in your mouth, he used his spare hand to grope your chest. “Nice rack.” He hummed between kisses, feeling the soft tissue beneath your shirt and bra. “But I bet they’d look even better with this shirt off.”
You smirked against his lips, admiring his hand trick. “You a cop or something?“
He chuckled. “I might be.”
Chris let your arms go and pulled away, helping you take off your t-shirt. The way he moved was super quick - it almost really made question what he did for a living. But that didn’t matter right now, did it?
He expertly undid your bra with one hand, exposing your breasts to him. Thats when a grin appeared on his face and he took the opportunity to squeeze them both before giving your tits a playful slap.
He was painfully hard now, and using your hand he guided you to touch through his jeans, feeling his huge cock. You gasped as you tried to grasp it through the fabric, letting out a shutter. “God damn… I didn’t expect you to be packing this much.” You teased, getting down on your knees. “You’re huge”.
“Thanks sweetheart.” He hummed. “I know.” He added - arrogant. It must not have been the first time he heard that - and certainly not the last.
You started to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, he made the effort to help you a little and pulled his cock out - all 8 inches of it and tapped it against your cheek. “Open up, baby.”
Without hesitation you opened your mouth, making sure to salivate so you didn’t hurt him. It wasn’t that hard, given how horny and drunk you were. You wanted his dick down your throat at this point — Anything to have him inside of you.
His right hand tangled in your hair, pushing you closer as you struggled to take him all, your lips expertly moving up and down his long cock.
You looked up at him, lashes batting before your hand came up to twist around his shaft, earning a subtle “fuck” from his mouth.
He hated to say it but he was already close. Alcohol always did this to him… he didn’t want to leave you hanging or just call you over for a blowjob - no. He needed to be inside of you.
Abruptly he pulled away and made you fall forward, helping pull you up by your hair. It stung, but it felt so good in the best way.
He let go and lifted you up bridal style, throwing you on his bed. He was relentless and quick with pulling your pants off, exposing your soaked black panties. He wasted no time in ripping those down your legs too, watching you squirm on his comforter.
“You’re so cute.” He grumbles, reaching down to brush a couple of fingers across your clit. You shudder at the feeling and tilt your head back, expecting more, and he gladly delivers.
Chris jumps on the bed, covering you, before shoving two of his thick fingers inside your waiting cunt. You let out a shutter, not expecting the sudden stretch and that’s when he chuckled almost sinisterly. “Gonna need to take more than that if you want me to fuck you, princess.” He said , sliding a third finger inside of you. “Otherwise I’ll split you in half.”
His words were like honey and you bit down on your lip, nodding at him. It didn’t take long for Chris to bend down and lick your clit either, bringing you closer to orgasm. All those years of military training and target practice must have paid off for him, because his fingers were so skilled.
“I - I want you to spilt me in half.” You smirk.
Once he curled them upwards while his tongue circled your clit - it was all over. “Ah - shit. Chris!!” You moaned and your body tensed in a hard orgasm. Your legs were shaking, but Chris didn’t stop, he kept curling his fingers upwards - fast - until you squirted on his face and bedsheets.
Embarrassed, you covered your face - trying to pretend like that didn’t just happen. But Chris just moved your hands, smiled with your juices dripping down his chin and spoke; “that was so fucking hot baby.”
With your face red, Chris jumped over and shuffled through his nightstand looking for a condom. He waited a minute. And then another, and then he realized he didn’t have any. “Fuck.” He cussed, clearly stressed. “Damn it I’m an idiot!”
“What’s wrong?” you asked, rolling on your side and still trying to catch your breath. “I forgot to buy condoms today.”
You felt a rush of both excitement and nervousness wash over you, and you smirked as Chris brushed his hair back over his forehead with his hand.
“I don’t care.” You hummed.
Chris looked at you, stunned.
“You don’t care if I don’t wear a condom?”
“Nope. You can fuck me. Just pull out.”
Chris knew this was risky. He knew it. But something about your eagerness triggered something inside of him. He pinned you back down on his bed and lined himself up with your soaking entrance, “alright, you asked for it you slut.”
He slid himself in with some ease, trying to go slow though his whole body wanted to ram you into the headboard. He had to remember how big he was, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in any way.
It took a minute and the stretch was painful, burning, but it felt oh so good at the same time. With your permission, Chris started to thrust into you. He went slow at first, but when you let out a soft moan and your eyes rolled back he took advantage and went harder, huffing as sweat trickled down his forehead.
“Fuck you’re tight.” He growls, his hand playing with one of your tits before sliding up to your neck and gently squeezing. Your hand wraps around his arm, batting your lashes up at him as you struggle to speak.
It feels too good.
He, feels too good.
The two of you stayed like that for a couple minutes before Chris got close and bored of this position.
He pulled out of you abruptly, smirking. “As pretty as you are, I need to hit it from behind.” He quickly bent you over, sliding in again. The stretch was so good from this angle as he started thrusting. Each one hitting your cervix hard - surely it’ll leave a bruise.
You gripped his bedsheets tightly, knuckles turning white as you moaned over and over with each thrust. Chris groaned behind you. He doesn’t say much - he’s too lost in the moment enjoying himself.
His hand comes down hard and slaps your ass, leaving a red mark as he watches it jiggle. It takes everything in him not to bust inside of you, right then and there, especially with no condom. He bites his lip, letting out a guttural growl.
“Fuck…” he huffs, quickly pulling out and jerking himself off. You quickly roll over on your elbows, sticking your tongue out so he can aim all over you. One, two,, three massive spurts clover your chest, your tits and your chin. You use your finger to push his cum into your mouth sensually before licking his sensitive dick clean.
He shudders and falls to the bed with you, offering you an old shirt to wipe the remainder off with. He grabs a cigarette and lights it, while you both cool down from the quick - but intense - session you just had.
You both stayed like that for an hour, talking and watching the city lights through his window.
The apartment was dimly lit, soft city lights slipping through half-closed blinds. The adrenaline of the night had long since faded, replaced by something quieter. Softer. You found yourself naked under his covers, a faint smell of alcohol and sweat infiltrating your nostrils. But yet.. it smelled comforting.
You laid on your side beneath the covers, one arm tucked beneath your head, your breathing slow and even. Chris lay beside you, wide awake now, staring up at the ceiling like he was trying to figure out what the hell just happened to him.
Chris glanced over at you, noticing you drifting off into sleep. A soft smile crept on his face.
You were beautiful, of course, but that wasn’t what unsettled him. It was something else. Something in the way you’d looked at him earlier. No judgment. No assumptions. Just this calm, collected energy that pulled him in like gravity.
He was scared he’d get addicted.
He couldn’t even remember what you talked about after you’d gotten back to his place. Just flashes of laughter, a few soft confessions, and the way you kissed him like you meant it.
Chris exhaled slowly and let his eyes close.
The sunlight slipping through the blinds was way too bright.
You groaned softly, face buried in Chris’s chest as the buzz of his alarm rattled somewhere on his nightstand. You peeked one eye open, fumbled around, and finally reality sunk in.
7:29 AM.
Your entire body tensed.
“Shit!.”
You sat up so fast your head spun - a small reminder of how much you actually drank last night. Chris stirred beside you, missing the warmth of your body, and blinking against the light. “What…?”
“I’m late,” you muttered, pulling up your panties. “I’m supposed to be there in less than 30 minutes! Damnit. ”
Chris ran a hand down his face. “Where’s there?”
“New job,” you said vaguely, pulling your shirt on with jerky movements. “First day — not a good impression! ” you start to panic.
He sat up a bit, still trying to clear the sleep from his brain. “I can drive you. I’m late anyways. Wesker is gonna hang me.”
You paused for a sec. This was the second or third time Chris had mentioned this Wesker person. You turned your head toward him. “You keep saying that. Is that your boss or your dog?”
“Same difference,” he muttered. You chuckled before grabbing your purse and sliding your sneakers on. “And don’t worry about the drive. I’ll be fine, really.”
“You sure?” he asked, clearly still not firing on all cylinders. Deep down he really didn’t want you to go. He had hooked up with many women, but something about you really kept him on his feet. He wanted to see you again..
“I’m sure,” you said quickly, already tying your hair back. “Thanks for the night.” You added, and a soft pang hit your chest.
Chris watched you go, still tangled in the sheets. Something tugged at him—but before he could say anything, the door had shut, and you were gone.
A second later, he flopped back onto the mattress, groaning and letting out a deep sigh.
“Wesker’s gonna kill me.”
The STARS briefing room buzzed with casual morning chatter. Jill and Barry sipped coffee while Joseph fiddled with a radio. Wesker, as always, stood at the front—impossibly crisp in his uniform and already annoyed.
You were nervous already about being late, but you managed to meet with Wesker. The name sounded familiar… but your impending hangover made it harder for you to think clearly.
Where did you hear that name before?
“I’d like you to meet our newest addition,” Wesker said as the door opened behind him. Wesker then pointed to you and introduced you with your skills, explaining how you’d be a great asset to the team.
You looked professional, confident—but your hair was a little damp at the edges, and there was a subtle haste to your posture. Your eyes scanned the room, calm but alert. Friendly nods were exchanged.
Then—
The door opened again.
Chris stumbled in, just a few seconds too late, breathless and very clearly under-caffeinated.
“Sorry—got caught in traffic,” he muttered, not even looking up at first.
Wesker narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Redfield. Late again.”
“Yeah, yeah, I—”
Then he looked up, and saw you.
You froze, and the two of you stared at each other—mutual horror setting in like a bomb ticking down. Your brain went blank. Chris’s face was somewhere between oh god and how the hell.
Wesker didn’t notice. Or maybe he did, but didn’t care. “Redfield, take a seat. You’re already making a terrible impression.”
Chris slid into a chair next to Jill.
Jill leaned over and whispered with an amused smirk, “You two know each other?”
Chris didn’t answer. You cleared your throat, straightened your posture, and gave Wesker a polite nod.
So that’s where you heard of wesker before. This was the infamous “Boss” that was going to “Kill” Chris for being late. And to think you were also close to making that impression..
“Looking forward to working with everyone,” you said calmly. But your eyes darted back to Chris once—just once.
He was looking at you the same way. Like he was still trying to figure out if this was real. He knew then that you’d be his downfall, and he was okay with it.
bonus snippet:
Jill leaned across her desk toward Barry, speaking just loud enough for Joseph to hear too.
“I’m telling you, something’s up.”
Barry snorted. “You’re imagining things.”
Joseph chimed in. “Nah. She didn’t even flinch when Redfield was late. Not even a raised eyebrow. That’s suspicious.”
Jill tapped her chin thoughtfully. “She hasn’t said much to him all morning. But they keep looking at each other when they think no one’s watching.”
Barry narrowed his eyes. “Wait… did she arrive right before Chris?”
“Uh-huh,” Jill said. “Hair damp. Rushed. He was red in the face. Flustered.”
Joseph let out a low whistle. “Redfield, huh? Man moves fast.”
Jill smirked. “Faster than his paperwork, that’s for sure.”
Just then, you walked in with a fresh folder. Your expression was calm, but the moment Chris entered behind you, Jill raised a single knowing eyebrow.
You immediately looked away.
Chris sat down, opened a file upside-down, and didn’t realize for a full minute.
Joseph leaned over and whispered, “Nice collar, Romeo.”
Chris froze.
“Hope she was worth the write-up.” Jill giggled.
Chris: “I will end all of you.”
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