#RE gift exchange 2023

[inafieldofdaisies]

Resident Evil Gift Exchange 2023 | Event hosted by @sstewyhosseini <3

Gift edit for @kourumi featuring OC Wren Harris and Donna (& Angie, ofc) Beneviento. I hope I've managed to capture their vibes as ship!

A little on the idea behind the edit: I wanted to create a scene that encompasses the atmosphere of the Beneviento house in RE Village. The setting is basically Ethan passing by the portraits as he explores around the place (a fallen shadow to hint of his presence). I had so much fun with this one for sure. <3

A second coloring version below.

[serenityhayato]

A Single Moment

Pairing: Carlos Oliviera x Reader

Warnings: fluff, humor

Summary: After surviving the nightmare that is Raccoon City and a missile bombing, you and the shaggy haired mercenary share a moment...to the exasperation of Jill.

A/N: A little gift for @inafieldofdaisies for the Resident Evil Gift Exchange Event hosted by @sstewyhosseini​​! Did dusting off the cobwebs to write sound daunting? Ended up being a short drabble than a full length one shot with how many times I edited and deleted parts. I hope you enjoy it!

     “You know Carlos, I owe you one.” The shaggy haired mercenary gave out a laugh as he continued piloting the helicopter. ‘Yeah, I’ve been hearing that all day, but you have yet to deliver.” Jill rolls her eyes with a smile, clutching the vial in her hands. “You too, Jill. I wouldn’t have survived if it hadn’t been for you two.”

     “And I would be dead too if you and Carlos hadn’t risked your lives to cure me. So that makes us even.” Jill smile at you before she turns to watch the sunset. You’re interrupted by Carlos clearing his throat. “You might be even with Jill, but I don’t recall you saving me, so I’ll take that as an I.O.U.” Moving so you sat next time him in front of the helicopter, you turned to look at him. “I’m not sure owing you anything is such a good idea anymore.”

     “Oh, come on sweetheart, owing me isn’t so bad.” You crossed your arms, giving him a questioning look. He let out another laugh. “Alright when I come to cash on that I.O.U I promise not to make you do anything too embarrassing.” Shaking your head, you looked out the window, trying to stay in this moment and not linger on the destruction behind you.

     Thinking about the events the last couple of days, you realize that life’s too short and anything can happen...even a zombie apocalypse brought upon a simple pharmaceutical company. Staring out to the distance, you weren’t sure what surviving...choosing this path would lead you. You were just lucky to come across Carlos and an unconscious Jill after a couple days of terror. “You know, I’m glad to have come across you Carlos, even if you tend to get annoying sometimes.” That one drew another laugh from him.

     “Yeah me too. Would be pretty cruel of me to leave you in a Carlos-less world.” Jill snaps from the back. “Stop using that line! It’s getting old Carlos.” Carlos shouts back, “I will as long as it remains true!” Shaking your head and giving into your impulse, you raised your hand to take one of Carlos’ hands into yours. He threads his hand with yours, squeezing it in turn. You felt your cheeks heat up, but you couldn’t help the smile from growing on your face, Carlos sent you a wink when you looked up to gaze him. 

     “At least two of us believe it to be true.” You hear Jill let out a huff as Carlos continues to pilot the helicopter. Feeling slightly daring, you lean up to place a peck on his cheek. Which unintentionally distracted him causing the helicopter to jolt and for Jill to let out some colorful words. “That’s it, no more distracting the pilot. You two aren’t sitting together until we land.” Fearing Jil more than trying to soothe pouting Carlos, you moved to the back. “Don’t worry Carlos, you still have that I.O.U.” Before Carlos could get a word in, Jill beat him to it. “He isn’t cashing anything until we land. I’m not about the die after surviving the zombies because Carlos can’t concentrate.”

[detectivelokis]

ALEXANDRIA RIVERA X CLAIRE REDFIELD

Gift 2/2 for @nightwingshero for the Resident Evil gift exchange hosted by @sstewyhosseini

[firstaidspray]

"We're going to get out of here. Together."

Happy to send out my gift to @euryalex for the Resident Evil gift exchange of their oc Asami Kondo and Zoe Baker, reassuring each other in Zoe's trailer. I had a lot of fun drawing Asami and the piece in general- I hope you like it!! 💖

[nightwingshero]

Leon Kennedy - Brianna Torres - Ashley Graham

2/2 gift for @gummibrit for the Resident Evil Gift Exchange by @sstewyhosseini

[aceghosts]

Reflections

Rating: G

Summary: A photo of Wesker at his S.T.A.R.S. Days brings back some memories.

Warnings: No real warnings apply. Please let me know if I need to tag for anything.

Words: 2,978 words

Author’s Note: This is a gift for @skinky-squamata as part of @sstewyhosseini's RE Gift Exchange! Mika, thank you for letting me participate and giving this a look over! @skinky-squamata, I hope you enjoy this!

AO3

Albert Wesker pauses, his finger hovering over the button of the terminal. In his black shades, reflects the soft blue glow of the screen, his eyes fixed on the image in front of him. He stares at the photograph, one taken from his days at S.T.A.R.S., back when he was just pretending to be the Captain of the Alpha team. How easy it had been to fool everyone. None of them saw his betrayal coming, not that they could have. The S.T.A.R.S. members were his personal little piggies to experiment on. In the end, they had done a fine job. However, S.T.A.R.S. surviving had not been part of Wesker’s plan, an unfortunate annoyance.

In the photo, Wesker is in the middle, Chris on his right, with Barry to his left. Both have their arms around his shoulders. Jill and Rebecca are in front of the three, crowded into the photo with them. Behind the camera is Joseph Frost, cracking jokes in an attempt to make everyone smile. This photo is from his days at S.T.A.R.S., Barry playing his part well. Wesker knows Barry would have rather punched him, only the threat of harm to his family keeping him at bay. Everyone is smiling, looking excited and happy, unaware of the events to come. Even Wesker, himself, is smiling slightly, arms crossed over his chest.

Looking over at Chris, a deep hatred flares in Wesker’s chest. Chris…the bane of his existence. Every time Wesker is about to execute a daring move, Chris and his merry band of imbeciles are there to mess up his plans. At least, his other plans, the ones hidden in shadows, are left alone. No matter, Chris’s efforts are futile, and his struggle only makes Wesker’s victory more delicious in the end. As he stares into the screen, Wesker can’t help but drift back to a memory of Chris in Wesker’s early days at S.T.A.R.S.

--Raccoon City Police Station circa 1996—

BANG!

The rifle fires off, hitting its mark. With a smirk, Wesker moves the right earmuff back, teasing Chris, “Think you can do better, Chris?”

It’s late at the station, most of the staff already having left for the night. Originally, Wesker was going to leave, having been held later by that pig, Chief Irons, who once again felt it was his place to lecture Wesker. While he was able to remind Irons who Wesker worked for, Irons clearly had an inflated sense of worth, and Wesker looked forward to the day he was no longer needed. Noticing that Chris was at the gun range, Wesker decided to join him, blowing off some steam and hopefully kicking his ass in the process.

“Course I can, Wesker! Watch this!” Chris says before both men get their gear back in place. He aims, firing off two quick shots, hitting the mark in quick succession.

Chris looks over to him, and Wesker nods in approval. He removes his earmuffs as Chris does, complementing his younger teammate. “Impressive.” Chris smiles, clearly appreciating the comment from his Captain. From the short time that Wesker had known Chris, he found that the young man held himself to a high standard, leaving no room for failure, something he and Wesker had in common. Barry mentioned that Chris was determined to prove himself, that he earned his spot on the S.T.A.R.S. team. Another thing he and Wesker had in common. Although, Wesker supposed he wanted to prove himself for less noble reasons.

“Thanks, Wesker,” He replies, before a slightly mischievous gleam appears in his eyes, “How about we make this more interesting?”

A bet and a chance to kick Chris’ ass? Now, this is an idea that Wesker can get behind. “Name your terms, Chris.”

“Whoever can hit the most moving targets in a minute wins.”

Wesker tilts his head. “Sounds agreeable, but what is the catch?”

“If I win, you have to come out with us tomorrow night. Join us for a monthly S.T.A.R.S. teambuilding.” Ah, ‘Teambuilding’ as Chris and some of the others referred to it. Wesker saw it as an excuse for them to get drunk at the local bar.

“Why would you want me to join you? Most people would be thrilled that their boss didn’t join them for a drink.”

Chris falters slightly, looking more unsure of himself. “We want to get to know you, Wesker. None of us know you, and you’re always rebuking our attempts to get to know you better. We’re a team; we have to be able to trust each other.” It takes all of Wesker’s strength not to scoff at Chris, call him an idiot for believing in a thing like trust. Chris’s attitude is so antithetical to anything at Umbrella. At Umbrella (and in life generally), trust only gets you hurt.

Instead, he settles for a half-joke. “And what do I get in return?”

Chris’ eyes light up as he thinks. “I’ll take over any night patrols that you have for a week.”

“Make it two weeks and you have a deal.”

He smiles, a wide grin on his face. “You’re going down, Wesker!” Chris wins by a slight margin, Wesker letting him. Wesker supposes it couldn’t hurt to spend a night with the team.

--

 The memory ends, leaving Wesker alone in the dark room with only the screen for light. He scoffs at how idealistic Chris was at that time. Surely, Arklay had rid Chris of that notion. Yet, Wesker couldn’t help but see part of Chris in himself, no matter how much he hated it. It made Chris such an annoyance with his partner, Jill. Jill Valentine.

He looks at Jill, who is smiling as widely as Chris. Wesker snorts, another memory coming back to him.

--Raccoon City Police Station circa 1996—

Wesker’s hands come up to rub his temples, a minor headache starting to form. Curse Irons and his over-inflated ego! He grits his teeth, frustration bubbling up. No matter how many times, Wesker politely reminds Irons that he is ultimately a pawn for Umbrella, the man never seems to remember for long. If he had to hear another lecture from Irons-.

“Captain Wesker?”

He turns, finding Jill Valentine in the hallway, watching him with concern. Glancing down at his watch, Wesker notes that she should just be leaving. “Is something the matter, Jill?”

Jill shakes her head. “No, you…look frustrated. Is everything okay?”

“Nothing is the matter, Jill,” He replies with a sense of finality, hoping that she won’t ask more questions.

She narrows her cold blue eyes, and Wesker knows he isn’t being let off so easily. While a rather useful trait for a lockpicker and bomb defusal expert, Jill’s perceptiveness is rather inconvenient at this time. “Is it Irons?”

Wesker frowns, now concerned. Was Irons blabbing his fat mouth around the station? “Who told you that?”

Jill holds up her hands in mock surrender. “We noticed that you always seemed to be in a worse mood after Irons. You look like you’ve been talking with him again.”

“We?”

“Yeah, the team and I,” She pauses, adding sheepishly a few seconds later, “I noticed first and told the rest of the team.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “You and the team have time to gossip on the clock? If so, I think we need to increase-.”

“It’s not like that,” Jill shakes her head, “We wanted to make things easier for you. If Irons was getting on your case, we thought it might be about S.T.A.R.S. So, we tried to show Irons that we are a good team.”

Now that Jill mentions it, a lot of things start making sense. After one particularly frustrating (and almost violence-inducing on Wesker’s end) talk with Irons, he came back to the S.T.A.R.S.’s office to find Chris working on paperwork dutifully, something he often didn’t do. At the time, Wesker shrugged it off, but he wondered if it was Chris’s attempt at making S.T.A.R.S. look good. “Hm, is that so?”

“Yes,” Jill relaxes, her shoulders dropping, “We tried to come up with ways that we could show off, make the team look better.”

“Was that your idea or Alpha teams’?”

“It was mine at first, but the rest of the team thought it was a good idea.”

“Thank you,” Wesker admits, “I appreciate the work you and the rest of the team are doing. However, my meetings with Irons do not involve you.”

She raises her eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. “Then, what do they involve?”

“Nothing that is any of your business.”

Jill opens her mouth, only to be cut off by Chris. “Hey Jill! You ready to go-Oh hey, Wesker!”

Wesker snorts, smirking slightly. “Go.”

“But-.”

“It’s none of your concern, Jill. Enjoy your night with Chris.”

She glances between the two, smiling back at Wesker. “Have a good night, Wesker, and” Jill adds quietly, “if there is anything we can do, let us know.”

Wesker nods, watching as Jill leaves with Chris, both happily chatting and laughing with each other, unaware of the future horrors to come.

--

Jill and Chris always made a good team, and Wesker always thought that Jill might be perceptive enough to sense that something was slightly off about her Captain. But it never happened. Now, she and Chris were always several steps behind, unable to catch up to Wesker.

He looks to Rebecca Chambers next, the youngest member of the S.T.A.R.S. team. She had a brilliant mind, especially compared to some of S.T.A.R.S.’s other members. Yet, Rebecca chose to waste her talents in his eyes, once wondering briefly if Rebecca would join the pharmaceutical industry.

--Raccoon City Police Station circa 1998—

“Rebecca.” Rebecca jumps, apparently deeply focused on her work. She jumps, nearly knocking over the mug of coffee in a S.T.A.R.S. mug. Wesker is quick enough, carefully catching the mug and setting it back on her desk. “I apologize, Rebecca. I did not mean to scare you.” He’s only curious, wondering what Rebecca is doing here so late. Wesker rarely sees Rebecca, considering she works for Bravo Team.

She shakes her head. “It’s okay, Captain Wesker,” Rebecca smiles at him, still slightly nervous and on edge, “I got absorbed in my work again. Classmates used to tease me about it all the time.” Wesker notices a brief wince. It wouldn’t surprise him that her classmates sought to sabotage her; it’s something he and Will would have done, especially Will.     

 Wesker leans casually against her desk, raising an eyebrow. “There are worse things than to be absorbed in your work. Better to be interested in the project in front of you than simply skating by.”

“I agree,” Rebecca starts to relax, seeming less disturbed by his presence, “I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

That catches Wesker’s attention. Really? Nothing else except working at S.T.A.R.S.? “Interesting,” He muses, knowing that geniuses like Rebecca have their pick of placement, “You weren’t interested in working anywhere else?”

Again, Rebecca shakes her head. “Nope! I’m happy to be here.”

“What about working as a doctor?”

“I don’t think I have the people skills for it,” Rebecca admits, nervously rubbing the back of her neck, “Besides, I like working with a smaller team.”

“What about a pharmaceutical company like Umbrella?” She would be a fool to join Umbrella, but perhaps, she could be swayed over to another one.

“They tried to scout me for their biochemistry teams, but I wasn’t interested.”

Interesting. Most would jump at the chance to work with a company like Umbrella. “Why not? What made you say no?”

Rebecca glances at the photo on her desk, a picture of the Bravo team. They all look happy, smiling wide in the S.T.A.R.S.’s office. “As I said, I wasn’t interested. Umbrella couldn’t give me the one thing that I was looking for in my work. I want my work to have a purpose, to be part of a team. I’ve found that here with S.T.A.R.S.”

How sentimental. How naïve. Places like Umbrella would have chewed her up and spit her out. At Umbrella, you were always seeking to get the better of your colleagues, sabotaging them when you had the chance. Someone else’s failure meant more time and accolades for you. He remembers one researcher like Rebecca, who hadn’t lasted long at Umbrella. He remembers the way she stared, broken and defeated, as she realized what had been done to her work. “Captain Wesker?”

Wesker is jolted from his thoughts. “Yes, it’s important your workplace matches your values.” And what weak values Rebecca had. Just like the rest of the fools here.

Rebecca smiles up at him. “Thanks for understanding, Captain Wesker.”

--

What a massive waste of talent. No matter what, Rebecca would fail like the rest. He would make sure of it.

He moves to Barry next, a small chuckle escaping from him as he smirks. Poor Barry, so easy to manipulate. Barry loved his dear family too much and had been so easy to manipulate. He had been the perfect pawn for Wesker to use, especially with the false threat of Umbrella. Until his damn conscience got the better of him. Another memory takes over him, one before he made Barry his pawn.

--The Burton Household circa 1996—

“Wesker! Thanks for coming over!” Barry pats his shoulder forcefully, and Wesker forces a semi-friendly smile on his face.

“It would be rude to reject an invitation from a colleague…” And this was too good of an opportunity to learn more about Barry, to possibly find something that Wesker could dangle over him like a carrot on a stick. In the future, Wesker will wonder if Barry ever regretted this decision, to allow someone like Wesker into his home, his sanctuary. He will wonder if Barry thinks he should have thrown Wesker out, that he let the snake into their den.

Barry gives him a confused look, before shaking his head, perhaps chalking it up to Wesker’s aloof nature. “Well, I hope you enjoy beer and burgers! We’re grilling tonight.”

“Delightful.” Barry opens the door, Wesker behind him. The Burton home is slightly messy, a stark contrast to Wesker’s neat and orderly home. Even Will’s home is neater, but that’s since Will and Annette are rarely there.

“DADDY! DADDY!” Two girls come running, jumping into Barry’s arms as he scoops them up. Both girls laugh in delight, their smiles matching the wide one on their father’s face.

“Wesker, meet my daughters, Moira and Polly! Girls, say hello to Captain Albert Wesker.”

“Hello!” Both girls shout in unison before they start to pepper Wesker with questions and random tangents.

“Girls, slow down! Give him a few minutes.”

“Sorry dad!” They both apologize, curiosity still bright in their eyes. How different Moira and Polly are from Sherry. Sherry always seems so polite, so quiet. But Wesker knows that it’s from the lack of attention she receives, that she’s been forced to grow up faster than her peers. He wonders if Sherry would be like Moira and Polly if she was raised in a home like this, more childlike. Barry beams at his girls, adoration for them shining in his eyes. They seem to be the center of his universe. Wesker doesn’t think he’s seen Will or Annette look at Sherry that way.

“Come on, Wesker, and girls! Let’s get that grill going!” The girls laugh and cheer in delight as Barry turns, motioning for Wesker to follow him. He follows Barry, knowing that he’s just found the carrot dangling over Barry.

Later on, during his time at the Burton’s, Kathy, Barry’s wife, pulls Wesker over to the side as Barry is distracted with the girls. “Promise me you’ll look after him?” Her voice is steady, but Wesker hears the faint fear behind it.

 “I will try. I cannot guarantee that he will avoid danger, but I will watch out for him.” It’s a bald-faced lie, but Kathy doesn’t need to know that. It might be easier for Wesker to manipulate Barry if his wife thinks so highly of his boss.

Her shoulders relax, dropping slightly. “Thank you. I just don’t want the girls to grow up without their dad.” She looks past him, and Wesker follows her gaze, settling on Barry, who is now playing with the girls. Wouldn’t it be so sad for the girls to grow up without their father? He hides the smirk that threatens to appear. Love makes Barry Burton a weak man, and that is something he can use to his advantage.

--

In the end, Barry’s love for his family hadn’t been enough to override his conscience. His love for his teammates won out in the end, and he’d helped Jill when he was supposed to be sabotaging her.

Anger rises in his chest as he glares at the photo, his eyes darting between the different faces. They may have survived the mansion, but they would not survive what Wesker had coming for them. Chris, Jill, Rebecca, and Barry were all pawns, and Wesker would remove them soon. But for now, he would need to be content. Let them think that they were truly doing something.

The anticipation of satisfaction washes over Wesker, and he relaxes, his glare morphing into a smirk. One day, the four would lose, and Wesker would be there to see it. He would savor their defeat along with his victory. A dark chuckle escapes Wesker, knowing that bigger and better things are in store for him.   

[tacticalhimbo]

Howdy @comrade-botanistman ! I was assigned to celebrate @sstewyhosseini 's Resident Evil Gift Exchange with ya, and I come bearing a gift!

This fic was really fun to write out, and I had a lot of fun exploring the idea of transfem!Jill with Carlos. I hope you like this bittersweet little moment between them <3

Let me know if you'd like a more permanent copy of this, too! I'd be more than happy to slide ya a PDF version or something like that :)

Under a cut for length!

The mornings were always the hardest. Watching that sleepy fog lift and give clarity to the mirror hanging just above the sink, lights shining down to illuminate every exposed inch of Jill's features. The slowly fading shadows beneath her eyes. The texture of her skin. The way her brows knitted as blonde strands of hair fell into her view, unable to shield the way the image before her morphed. The way the room turned and grew cold as an all too familiar feeling of panic settled.

'Jill. Jill—Come on. Snap out of it!'

Knuckles paled as fingers dug into the slick ceramic. Eyes narrowed at the distorted reflection. A shadow loomed just behind her, though she remained unaware. All she could see was the husk that Wesker had left in her place.

'Come on, Jill!'

A hand rose to clutch at her chest, fists balling around the loose fabric of her shirt. She winced at the empty feeling, shrinking in on herself as she finally broke her gaze and came to rest her shoulder against the adjacent wall. Breaths grew rapid as she sunk to the cooled, tile flooring. Eyes darted to the space before her as she felt herself growing dizzy. Felt a warm feeling just beside her. She froze, just able to raise her gaze enough to see a familiar face by her side.

"Are you alright?"

"Carlos..."

The man smiled a bit at the recognition, worry stricken in his features as he cautiously touched at her arm. He used his leg to nudge the discarded pair of scissors away from her side, opting to place himself between them as he kneeled. Gentle eyes met her gaze, and the mercenary found himself gently guiding her into a loose hug.

"What happened? I heard something fall, then I came in, and you were... I don't even think you saw me, but you were lookin' right at me. Least it seemed like it."

Shoulders dropped as she leaned into his side, hands hesitant to reach out and touch at his arm. To guide him closer to her as she caught her breath. She watched his hands as they moved, focused just enough to react in the event he tried anything. Deep down, she knew he wouldn't. She told herself that countless times. She was safe; Carlos was safe. Still, her nerves were taut. Drawn like that of a bow, ready to fire. She shook her head a bit, taking a breath before speaking.

"I didn't realize how much my hair's faded..."

"Huh. Yeah... It looks good." Carlos smiled a bit.

Jill scoffed, watching as the movement of her head guided the light locks to rest against her shoulder.

"I hate it."

"Because of—?"

"Yeah."

Carlos nodded a bit, watching as Jill rested by his side. Watching as she brought her knees closer, hugging them as her gaze rose to the dye on the counter. He followed, wheels turning as he reached for the scissors beside him.

"Hey, how about I help you fix it up, then? Just a warning, I didn't exactly go to cosmetology school." He laughed, nudging her arm as he stood and offered a hand.

She couldn't help the ghostly laugh that escaped her, nor the way her hand seemed to find his on its own. And so she stood with him, slow to sit herself on the counter as he’d retrieved the discarded tools and set them down beside her. Yet even that bit of comfort seemed short-lived as the nausea resettled in her gut. Conflict etched itself onto her face as Carlos finished setting up a little station, and it didn't escape him.

"Hey," his voice was soft, and his touch even softer. Calloused fingers brushed the back of her hand. "What's on your mind, supercop?"

"I..." The words failed to escape Jill as she peered over her shoulder and toward the mirror again. 

She remained present this time, allowing herself to reach up and brush a few stray hairs aside. For a moment, there was euphoria. A comfort in what she saw. But as always, Wesker lingered behind the sensation. He was there to ruin it, just as he’d (effectively) ruined her. She sighed, shaking her head.

"I should be happy it's gotten this long. I used to always have trouble growing it past a few inches. Hell, your hair's longer than I've ever managed back then." A faint laugh, accompanied by a subtle nudge to his arm.

He laughed with her, offering a playful 'hey!' as he nudged back.

"But?"

Curse him for knowing her so well.

"... But even though it makes me feel more feminine, more like me, I just can't shake that asshole from my head. This," she held up a thick string of hair, so close to just yanking it from its root," is because of him. Whatever the hell it was he did to me, this was the result."

'That's not true'. That's what he wanted to say at the moment. To tell her as he wordlessly grazed his hand against hers. Yet the words didn't escape him. He couldn't lie to her like that. Couldn't put himself in her shoes to figure out what exactly happened. She knew better than him. She was there; he wasn't. Silently reassuring her was the best he could do. To offer his hand as he stepped back and looked her over.

That was when the gears began turning.

"Well, what if we compromise on it? Cut it real short like you like it... Maybe leave some of the blonde in?" He watched her eyes snap to his face. Curiosity shone in them. "Ease ya into the idea and all."

It wasn't a bad idea. Jill could almost see it forming before her as she gathered a handful of strands and pulled them back, hiding them behind her head as her bangs fell into place. Seeing less had already made her feel more secure... and it wasn't a bad color on her. Not for the moment. Perhaps not anymore. Fingers unfurled, and lengthy strands fell back into place.

"Yeah... Okay. Maybe a little bit in the bangs? Right around..." Brows knitted together as she leaned closer to the mirror. Her fingers grasped at the loose strands just above her brow. "Here?"

"I like it." Carlos clapped his hands together, practically beaming as a hand gently tilted Jill's upward. His expression softened, lips pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as he got to work.

Scissors sliced through hair, quick to make work of the overgrowth and allow it all to pile on the floor by the former commander's feet. Sections were pulled and set aside, though a tad lopsided, no thanks to the way Carlos' head would tilt as he attempted to find the natural parts beneath the layers. It was rough, but it was an attempt. And not a terrible one, if Jill said so herself. She did. Practically leaped at seeing the vision come to life. Already, it had felt like the weight on her chest slipped off. She ran a hand through the short cut, sighing a heavy breath of relief at the choppy feeling of the underlayer against her fingers. Those same fingers made their way forward, moving alongside her partner's to section off the small bit of bang that would remain undyed. She smiled to herself, peering at Carlos' reflection and nodding. He nodded back, grabbing the box of dye to begin the next stage of their plan. Of course, even the included set of gloves didn't stop either of them from making a mess of themselves. They shared soft laughs and playful teases, pointing out the splotches of brown that coated their hands. Jill was the first to begin the cleanup, wetting a rag and guiding Carlos to offer his hands so that she could scrub them clean. Their shared touches lingered, fingers intertwining as their lips brushed together. 

Carlos smiled, then Jill. They kissed each other tenderly, hovering tensions dissipating as a comforting blanket of warmth surrounded the duo. Hands cautiously wandered along the other, tempting the other closer to savor that warmth. Jill gripped at Carlos' shoulders lightly, attempting to distract herself from the building fire behind her eyes. The moisture building on her eyelashes. Carlos noticed the squeeze, drawing back just enough to ask if she was okay. She nodded, thanking him softly before pressing one last, chaste kiss to his cheek as she withdrew entirely. 

Soon enough, idle chatter was cut short by the sound of a phone going off. The timer had finished, and Jill abandoned her post on the countertop to lean over the sink and rinse her hair. It would have been easier to shower, but she didn't quite feel like kicking Carlos out of the bathroom just yet. So he stayed, helping her reach the back of her head and washing all the excess down the drain. He offered her a towel to wipe her face and dry her hair, to which she gladly accepted. For a moment, she considered simply keeping the towel there. Hiding herself from the reflection that eagerly awaited her. What if she hated it more? What if she didn't look any different?

What if all of this was some sick dream? A faux memory implanted into her?

'No.' She winced at the thoughts, shaking her head before taking a deep breath and removing the towel.

And before her stood herself. The Jill that awaited her was... her. She had that signature short, brown hair. Those focused eyes. And, a streak of blonde that only added to the inquisitive spark in her gaze. Beside her was Carlos, who seemed to beam at seeing the result of his handiwork. Lips curled into a bright grin, eyes squinting as he squeezed his partner's arms excitedly.

"Well? Not too bad for a hired gun, huh?" He paused, leaning in to press his cheek against hers. "What do ya think, supercop?"

Her lips mimicked his, head bumping against his as she squeezed at his hand. She looked happy. At peace with herself again. And god, was it a beautiful sight.

"Could be more even, but I like it. It has that Carlos charm." The pair laughed, exchanging yet another series of playful bumps and nudges. "I like it... Thank you."

"Anything for you, Jill. You know that. I love you."

"I love you too."

[kourumi]

My entry for @sstewyhosseini‘s Resident Evil Gift Exchange 2023!

🖤  🖤  @derelictheretic​‘s oc, Darius Lupan!  🖤 🖤

A dark romantic portrait for his favorite room....

[sophiasharp]

Holy smokes this is late! Not intentional I swear, BUT! This is for @heartman for the Resident Evil Gift Exchange 2023! Thanks for giving me the chance to work with these characters, it’s a crime they haven’t met yet.

Title: Contingency

Relationship: Ingrid Hunnigan

[avi-draws]

Apparently discord's no longer viable as a hosting site, so re-hosting this here. Drawn for the Extreme Timed Challenge MCYT Gift Exchange (2023)

[detectivelokis]

From Nightmares to Sweet Dreams

Words: 1.6 k Warnings: Nightmares/lucid dreaming and mentions of childhood trauma A/N: Gift 1/2 for @nightwingshero for the Resident Evil Gift Exchange hosted by @sstewyhosseini

“Look at you. So pathetic. So weak.”

“Not - not pathetic,” Ainsley whimpers as she thrashes in bed; limbs in a cold sweat and sticking to the sheets.

It’s just a dream.

She’s well-aware that she’s not awake right now. She’s been having enough lucid dreams since the Raccoon City incident to tell the difference by now. Still, it doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

“No?,” the blurred visage of Oswell Spencer asks as if he’s toying with her. “Look at your brother and sister and then take a look at yourself.”

“Stop it!”

Ainsley can feel herself screaming her throat raw as her father’s craggy face inches closer and closer. “Leave me alone!”

“Ainsley? Ains?”

A soft and warm voice breaks through the fog of her dream and directs her attention away from her father and towards it. She reaches out, begging for them to pull her back to reality.

“AINSLEY!”

Blue eyes flutter open and are immediately met with concerned brown ones. “Another nightmare?,” Carlos asks, bringing a hand to her shoulder as he starts to rub soothing circles into her clammy skin with his thumb.

“Yes. The same one as always.”

It’s been like this ever since she chose to leave Umbrella behind for good. Not that anyone she met would ever let her forget she worked for them in the first place. Her own peers would scoff at her when she would come in for conferences or try and get funding for one of her passion projects. As if she ever stood a chance. As if she wasn’t born to try and follow in her father’s footsteps; fighting like a rabid dog with Albert and Alex for a scrap of recognition.

But then Carlos came into the picture. Carlos who was a mercenary for Umbrella. Carlos, who almost couldn’t stomach being around her in the beginning due to the fact that she had a hand in creating the two tyrants that terrorized Raccoon City that night. But, like her, he was missing a part of himself, one that died as they escaped the nukes that sent the city asunder.

Carlos lets out a tired sigh as he slides down next to her, taking her into his arms. She feels bad for having woken him up all because of the same series of nightmares she has at least once a week. But that doesn’t stop her from resting her head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat bringing her some much needed solace.

“I know you think this is corny, Ainsley, but you're so brave; braver than some of the men I worked with in the U.B.C.S.. And most of them were military trained.” He strokes back strands of her blonde hair, placing a lingering kiss to her damp skin. “Your father was a lunatic and a tyrant and clearly favored your siblings, but seeing how they both turned out, I would say that’s a good thing.”

“A daddy’s girl I am not,” she replies, relaxing into his touch. 

Her feelings towards her siblings are complicated, especially when it comes to her brother. When she had decided to work for Umbrella she was an ambitious young woman who had just wanted her father to see she was just as talented and equally as smart as Albert and Alex; two teenage prodigies. But she could never gain his favor no matter how hard she worked. Despite all that, she had been horrified to learn of Albert’s demise up in the Arklay mountains and even more hurt when he revealed himself to be alive and well, his body pumped full of the Prototype Virus. She had grieved for him and in the end she looked like a fool.

“Don’t worry, babe. I don’t mind a girl with daddy issues,” Carlos teases and she swears she can feel him smile against her skin.”

Ainsley lets out a faux shocked gasp, playfully swatting him in the chest. Before she had met Carlos she would have truly been offended by such a joke, but she knows that there is no malice behind his words; only love and an attempt to make her feel safe and calm.

“You and your jokes…”

Her blue eyes glare up at him teasingly, earning her a soft chuckle in return. “Yeah, yeah. You hate my jokes. I get it.” He leans his forehead against her own, his warm brown eyes staring into hers so lovingly it could almost make her melt into a puddle right there on the bed. “But you find me too irresistible to mind.”

Truer words have never been spoken. She hadn’t been expecting to find love with a man who worked as a mercenary of all things, her usual picks being those who worked in more scientific fields, but the red string of fate tied them together like no other. Besides, there is more than meets the eye with Carlos. The man has far more emotional intelligence than anyone else she has met.

“I mean,” her hand lightly caresses his cheek before trailing her fingers down to his neck, “I would have to be a fool to let you go.” Her eyes linger on his torso, his body toned and sculpted in all the right places. “Absolutely crazy.”

Peace flows through her as Carlos smiles at her words. “You know I love you, Ains. All I want is to see you happy.”

Ainsley nods, a soft smile gracing her features. Carlos understands the guilt she feels unlike no other. Their reasons may be different, but it connects them, bonds them, in a way that is truly unique to them.

“I know. I want to see you happy too.”

“How about I go make you some tea, yeah? How does that sound?,” Carlos asks, gently lifting her face to look him in the eye.

“That sounds perfect.”

Ainsley lets him lead her out into their living room, bare feet padding against the cool wood floor. Once they reach the sofa he helps her sit, propping pillows up behind her to keep her comfortable. How did she get so lucky?

“It was just one nightmare, Carlos. You don’t have to baby me,” she teases as he drapes a blanket over her. “I might get used to this and expect it every time.”

“And you know I would do it. You deserve to be spoiled, Ainsley. Especially after everything that you’ve been through.”

Carlos kisses her forehead softly before he heads into the kitchen, opening the cabinets to rifle through her meticulously curated tea collection. His hand lands on a purple tin, fingers tapping on it before pulling it out to show her.

“Chamomile?”

“That will work,” she replies softly. “It’s my favorite brand too.”

“I know.”

Carlos shoots her a cheeky grin before turning back to the task at hand. As she hears the electric kettle come to life, she lets her eyes slowly close. This man knows so much about her. Everything from her favorite type of tea to years-long trauma resides in his mind and he handles it with the utmost care.

This is true love.

After a few moments, Ainsley feels a dip in the sofa as the aroma of freshly brewed chamomile tea fills her senses. “You didn’t fall asleep already did you?,” Carlos teases, resting a hand on her knee.

“No,” she whines, her voice groggy with sleep. Just a few minutes of cuddling and talking out her feelings is almost always a balm for a night full of bad memories.

“Could have fooled me.” Carlos holds out her favorite mug, steam overflowing from the top. “Careful. It’s hot.”

Ainsley smiles in gratitude as she cups the mug delicately in her hands. As she goes to blow on the steam another idea pops into her mind.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. Leaning forward, she brings a hand up to Carlos’s cheek, urging him closer. She lingers for a moment before kissing him softly. 

It’s a gentle kiss, small pecks shared between the two as he runs her fingers through her hair. It may not be the intense make out session where their tongues are in each other’s mouths and they're grinding against each other, but it feels incredibly intimate.

As she pulls away, Ainsley rests her forehead against his. “I know it’s late, darling. But I was thinking,” she pauses, a small smirk toying at her lips. “I was thinking that perhaps we could share a bath before going back to bed. We need should be properly relaxed.

Carlos beams so wide she swears she can every single one of his pearly white teeth. “Damn, Ains. Look at you being a bad girl.” His eyes shift towards the clock on their oven before he turns back to face her. “At a quarter to three in the morning too.”

Ainsley simply shrugs in response before leaning back into the plush couch. “You know I can be a bit naughty now and then. Can’t be proper all the time.”

“No you can’t.” Carlos pats her knee playfully as he moves to stand up. “Because I am not about to pass up this opportunity, no matter how late it may be, I’ll go run your bath for you, honey.”

He places a chaste kiss to her lips before practically dashing off to the bathroom. “Thank you, darling!,” she calls after him, a quiet chuckle falling from her lips.

As Ainsley watches him go, her blue eyes following every inch of his body, she realizes things might not be that bad in the end. Not bad at all.

[bowscale]

Ahhhhhhhhhhh🥹💜💜💜💜 I just read this and I want to thank you so much 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 This was beautiful! I loved it! I think it was the best gift ever 🥰🥰🥰🥰✨️ It has so many of my favorite tropes 🫣💜 Just know you made my entire year 🥹💜

Really, thank you, you are the best 💜🔥!

ready (for a misunderstanding)

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Nalu

Rating: T

Summary: Bisca and Alzack have another baby, and Lucy makes a passing comment that turns Natsu's world upside down.

Merry Christmas, @bowscale !!! I’m so glad I could do the gift exchange for you this year!!! I hope you like it ❤️ @allaboutnalu

Read on AO3.

Prologue

Spring had fully waxed in the year X776. The air smelled of caterpillars and pollen, and the river spewed fish every other moment as they searched spiritedly for a mate.

Near the bank, a young boy was lying on his back, his belly full of fish and berries. Bees buzzed around the bones piled on the ground. One might have been alarmed to see a boy so young out alone without a parent. But one certainly would have been alarmed to see a dragon lying not four feet beside him. Both concerns would be soothed, however, with the knowledge that this dragon was, in fact, the young boy’s father.

To his current chagrin.

The dragon king Igneel’s voice rumbled pleasantly in the evening air. “Are you listening, Natsu?”

“Huh?” the boy huffed. “Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

“Then what did I just say?” pressed the dragon patiently.

“Umm… that when I’m ready to have a house, I’ll need a baby?”

“No, Natsu,” Igneel sighed. “You need to listen to me. I know it doesn’t have to do with battle, but it is important nonetheless.”

“Why can’t you just tell me this stuff later? You said I won’t need to worry about it till I’m older, right?”

“Yes, but I wont be around forever. I need to teach you everything now, for when—“ he stopped, correcting himself, “��just in case.”

Natsu sat up and faced his father studiously. “Alright.”

“Good. Now, what I said was that when you’re older and you find a woman you like, you’ll win her heart by proving to her that you can provide. You have to show her that you’ll protect her, and you might even have to fight other men to win her affection. But before you mate, you’ll need to make sure that you have a good home. A nice, strong home that will keep your wife and children safe from harm. Because, Natsu, that’s what happens when you mate: you beget children. That’s why it’s important to not join with a mate until you are both ready for that possibility.”

The child appeared puzzled. “Are you sure that humans do that stuff, too? It sounds more like dragon stuff.”

“My boy, you’ll learn more and more that the lifestyles of dragons and humans are not as different as they seem. And regardless—you may be human in body and mind, but you have the soul of a dragon. You’re my son.”

Natsu barreled towards Igneel to nuzzle his arm. “That’s right, I am!” he cheered. “And I don’t care what you say about the future—we’ll always be together. You’ll see.”

The dragon smiled. “Yes, we will. I guarantee it.”

Read the rest on AO3.

[nightwingshero]

Leon Kennedy - Brianna Torres - Ashley Graham

1/2 gift for @gummibrit for the Resident Evil Exchange Event by @sstewyhosseini

[theroadtosomewhere]

Intro/Master Post

Started: 1stSept'24

hello, i'm jules, i write & draw but you'll only see one of those things. i mostly post to ao3 under roadtosomewhere, i also have bird app and butterfly app! i will now self-promo, thankyou <3

────୨ৎ────BSD

Multi-chapter

Semi-serious plot

Where the Wind Blows -> Chuuya dies (or does he?)

Reciprocity -> skk character study

23 Minutes -> Chuuya activates corruption without Dazai and he has thoughts about it

"Okay is Subjective" -> Sicktember 2023

It's Golden Hour Somewhere Else -> obligatory beast fic (implied)

Chuuya Wants Some Goddamn Peace and Quiet -> 2024 SKK Gift Exchange

Fluff

Soul-> 5+1, entirely fluff (first completed fic my beloved)

You Could've Knocked -> 5+1, skk through the years

Call Me "Ane-san" -> Dazai wants a big sister and doesn't ask

Crutch -> Dazai and Chuuya post 109, Chronic pain Dazai

Just a Little Bit (In Love) -> Dazai pining over Chuuya (and Aya is there too)

Ribbons and Bandages -> christmas collab (bsdc) with Ami here or here!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year (And Die Hard is not a Christmas Movie) -> 9k of domestic skk shenanigans

It Is Probable (That I knew Nothing of What I Had Said) -> bsdc Valentines Collection

────୨ৎ────

Oneshots

A Place LIke This -> Chuuya re-emerging into a world post 109

Grief, My Old Friend -> Chuuya grieves

There Was No Peace, Only This -> Dazai's jaw gets broken (projecting)

In The Name of Care -> Atsushi visits comatose Dazai and meets exactly who you’d expect at his bedside

Standing Up Straight -> Chuuya buys Dazai a skirt (part 2 of mobilityaid!Dazai)

────୨ৎ────

Twitter threadfics

MafiaBossChuuya!

You'll Succeed (But You'll Cry)

Should've been Him (But it wasn't)

A New Truce

One Call is One Too Many

One Grave is Enough for Me

Random (that i've posted on ao3, the rest found under my twt pinned)

Fighting for Life

────୨ৎ────

Unposted WIP List:

Five Years Away (I See Us) -> Dazai gets stuck in an ability that shows him a scenario he doesn't know how to accept (Dazai Osamu is Bad at Feelings)

Neon Streetlights to Guide you home -> Dazai discovers at what cost Amenogozen was beaten (Suffering Nakahara Chuuya)

1000 Days Alive -> Who is the Seventh Agency?

────୨ৎ────

offhand comment, if you police other ppl online, kindly~

╭∩╮（￣▽￣）╭∩╮

[tacticalhimbo]

Howdy @elena-fishr ! I was paired with ya to celebrate @sstewyhosseini ’s Resident Evil Gift Exchange, and I come bearing a belated gift!

I adored the list of prompts provided, and I had a lot of fun writing out a bonding moment between Chris and Claire (which may or may not have mentions toward some of your other prompts as well 👀)

Let me know if you'd like a more permanent copy of this, too! I'm always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do :3

Under a cut for length!

Downtime between missions was a blessing and a curse for the Redfield siblings.

On the one hand, it provided the pair an opportunity to actually connect. To meet up and make sure the other was okay. To kick back and let the weight of the world slip off of their shoulders for that brief moment in time. It provided the pair a small chance at normalcy, or as close as they could get to it. On the other, it was too quiet for the both of them. Chris was more than used to the sound of constant gunfire. The feeling of ammo packs and aid hanging from his torso. The stench of blood and ruin. Claire had, much to his disappointment, gotten used to it all as well, though there was some solace in the fact her work with TerraSave handled more civilian matters. She'd been there in Raccoon City when it went to Hell, and part of him still felt angered that he'd left her. If Leon hadn't found her—

No—today wasn't the day to be thinking of such things.

Thankfully, Claire bounding over with a pair of beers was enough to draw his attention back to the hot summer sun. She smiled, tilting her head as she noted the delay in his acceptance of the offered drink. Try as she might have to hide the worry that crept up her spine, her expression faltered as she sat beside him on the hood of his truck.

"Everything alright?"

"Mhm." He nodded curtly, popping open the top to lazily sip at the chilled drink. "Just... Thinking about work again."

Claire shook her head, nudging his arm with her elbow. "You just don't shut off, do ya?"

It was Chris' turn to nudge, the bulk of his arm bumping against hers as she went to nurse her own bottle. She paused, snickering and giving him an all too familiar look that said well enough: 'Don't start anything you can't finish'. He seceded, at least for the moment, letting a quiet laugh slip as he held up his hand. His smile lingered on his lips, slowly slipping away from his eyes as he looked out toward the road.

“Guess not.”

“Well…” Claire’s voice trailed off, head turning every which way as she looked around the garage. Her wheels were turning, that much was clear by the determined glint in her eyes, but what was it she was trying to do? “Why don’t we channel your energy somewhere else? Forget the BSAA for now, let’s do some work here. How long’s it been since you cleaned the garage?”

Too long, if the misplaced tools and gathering dust was anything to go by. And his silence said the same. Claire rolled her eyes and pushed herself off of the truck’s hood, landing firmly on her feet with a little hop. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she was already off to examine the mess of racks and shelves off to the side. She wiped a clear spot with the back of her hand, huffing at the gray cast that now coated her skin, and set her drink down. Chris followed, peering over her head to watch as she eagerly dug through the pile of goodies awaiting them. He opted to step around her, careful in lifting a worse-for-wear box off the shelf. She paused briefly to watch the dirtied packing tape hold just long enough to make it over her head and finally give up just a few mere inches from the cold concrete. A quiet string of curses escaped Chris as he crouched down, hand pressed against his thigh as he rode out the aches the gesture had brought about. He was getting too old for this, especially after that nasty binge he went on in Eastern Europe. Claire watched a moment before turning her attention back to the pile before her. She took a breath in an attempt to swallow the urge to point it out. To ask once more if he was okay. She knew he was. Or, at the very least, that he would be. Deep down, she knew he wouldn't want to talk about any of it. He never did, even back before the city was destroyed. Everything he did with S.T.A.R.S was top secret. Wasn't any of her concern. She knew the red tape was worse now. Trying to get any information from Capitol Hill was a nightmare in of itself, but an organization like the BSAA?

It was a sour realization. One that, thankfully, was washed away as a few familiar notes cut through the air. Chris had, at some point while she was lost in her thoughts, gotten up and found his way back to the truck. He was half in it now, fidgeting with the radio until the volume was just right for the two of them.

"Queen?"

"Course. Found my some of my CDs in that box." He stepped back, humming to himself as he made his way back over to tidy up the controlled mess he'd made.

"Wow, you still haven't outgrown that, have you?" Her voice was light. She was just teasing him, after all. She was more than happy to bob her head and sway along to the fast-paced riffs. And she was very happy to hear the warm laugh that followed the scoff that'd come from behind her.

"Says the one who's always wearing that 'Made in Heaven' jacket I gave you, what, almost 20 years ago?"

"Hey! It's not my fault it still fits. Besides, you'd do the same thing. You do the same thing. How long ago was it that Jill gave you that watch for your birthday?"

"Now hold on—"

Claire peeked over her shoulder and grinned, mischief in her eyes as she watched Chris try to think over his justifications. He had none. She'd gotten him that time.

"That's what I thought," she teased. “Now, are we going to get cleaning, or see who has the better jokes?”

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Split the room and work in?"

"Sounds good."

With that, the pair's chatter simmered to an idle broil as they navigated the mess. Here and there, they'd chime in about things they've found. Simple inquiries of what to do with a stray set of wrenches, or if they'd still needed an older set when they had newer pieces lying around. That, or they'd talk about memories that came into the forefront of their discoveries. How Death on Two Legs could fit a few less than favorable coworkers the two have shared over the years. How a dent in one of the tool boxes was the result of Chris' clumsy self getting caught up in his own boot laces. How Claire could staunchly remember the time she'd banged her head on the tank of her bike's tank when he'd surprised her coming back from one of his first missions with the feds.

And, before they knew it, the garage looked almost brand new. Of course, there was nothing they could do about the oil stains that'd settled in over the years, or the few and far between cracks in the cement that'd come as a result of natural wear or tear. But it was better. It was home.

Or as close as they'd get to it.

[thedrarrylibrarian]

I cannot tell you how excited I've been to have this lovely writer on to rec - I fell in love with the fic she recced and I think it's a great pick for the holiday season. If you haven't read it before, I think it'll be the perfect read to get you into the Christmas spirit. Without further ado, here's the lovely @skeptiquewrites!

I was delighted to be asked to write a Happy Hour for December by the Drarry Librarian. I still consider myself more of a reader than anything.

This time of year represents a lot of contradictions for me: the joyfulness of gathering with my loved ones, the loneliness that springs up as I revisit old places and things. I love all the lights and candles, and bundling up against the cold. I can’t stand the disappearing sun, and the long hours of darkness in my part of the hemisphere. It’s sweet, but sorrowful too.

So back in July, I knew I had to pick @sweet-s0rr0w’s Waking Up Slow with all of @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm’s beautiful illustrations. Wireless has always been one of my favourite fests in current fandom, and 2023 was no exception.

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w (24,941 words, rated E)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

From the first paragraph, I was in love with Pickerings Christmas Shop and Cheddar, Somerset. It came to life with careful, beautiful writing of Harry’s curiosity and Draco’s initial sharpness, and Joy’s saturated, poignant use of colour.

Besides the writing, I love how many direct references to other fanfics that Sweet has with the footnotes. It always reminds me how key intertextuality is to fandom. We’re all in conversation and all participating in a gift exchange of sorts.

Waking Up Slow is just as wonderful in December for a read (or re-read in my case) as it was in July. Scorching, weighty, interesting, and I can recommend it for a slow morning, lazy afternoon or under the covers late night fic reading.

After all, ‘tis the season.

Thank you so much, @skeptiquewrites for joining me for Happy Hour with Friends of the Library! And seriously, check this fic out!