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#resident evil #resident evil 5 #biohazard #Jill Valentine #Albert Wesker #africa #weskertine #Chris Redfield #sheva alomar #excella gionne #Fanart #my art #drawing #digital art #commissions open

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damadisangue

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The snow continues to fall on Raccoon City, blanketing everything in white and gray. The Arklay Mountains lie silent in the cold of that Christmas Eve night, guarding secrets and promises. An owl watches the forest from its nest in the trunk of a pine tree, dozing: for that evening, no prey, no predators. The city sleeps, toy reindeer decorate the gardens of suburban homes, and strings of lights adorn the balconies and windows, pulsating like so many little hearts in the silence. Wesker's gaze slides across the opaque sky above them all, Alex's soft, warm profile against his chest — on the bedside table lies an empty cup of coffee and cream that he knows will leave a halo. Tomorrow is Christmas, and he should be working on the Harris file, the videos on Senator O'Neil, and also those compromising files on the future police chief, a certain Brian Irons, and... Alex stretches in her sleep, curling up against him and rubbing her cheek against his chest — her lips slightly parted, her eyes moving subtly under her eyelids.

"We're all going to die, Al."

Wesker tilts his head down, brushing a lock of hair from her face and looking at her — pale, naked: his.

"It will be our way out."

He pauses the movement of his fingers on the pulsating line of her carotid artery, listening to the flow of her blood — imagining what it would be like to press, and watch it bloom on her skin, a red thread that would contrast beautifully with the whiteness of her throat.

"And then we'll be free."

Alex opens her eyes, staring at him — she feels him, and in the glow of that cold, milky dawn they look at each other.

They find each other.

In the midst of everything that is to come, they will remain.

Stunning art from the lovely @madbedlam

taraxippos

Akira bike sliding on a horse

taraxippos

concept art

damadisangue

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The snow continues to fall on Raccoon City, blanketing everything in white and gray. The Arklay Mountains lie silent in the cold of that Christmas Eve night, guarding secrets and promises. An owl watches the forest from its nest in the trunk of a pine tree, dozing: for that evening, no prey, no predators. The city sleeps, toy reindeer decorate the gardens of suburban homes, and strings of lights adorn the balconies and windows, pulsating like so many little hearts in the silence. Wesker's gaze slides across the opaque sky above them all, Alex's soft, warm profile against his chest — on the bedside table lies an empty cup of coffee and cream that he knows will leave a halo. Tomorrow is Christmas, and he should be working on the Harris file, the videos on Senator O'Neil, and also those compromising files on the future police chief, a certain Brian Irons, and... Alex stretches in her sleep, curling up against him and rubbing her cheek against his chest — her lips slightly parted, her eyes moving subtly under her eyelids.

"We're all going to die, Al."

Wesker tilts his head down, brushing a lock of hair from her face and looking at her — pale, naked: his.

"It will be our way out."

He pauses the movement of his fingers on the pulsating line of her carotid artery, listening to the flow of her blood — imagining what it would be like to press, and watch it bloom on her skin, a red thread that would contrast beautifully with the whiteness of her throat.

"And then we'll be free."

Alex opens her eyes, staring at him — she feels him, and in the glow of that cold, milky dawn they look at each other.

They find each other.

In the midst of everything that is to come, they will remain.

Stunning art from the lovely @madbedlam

damadisangue

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

7. Bloodplay (The Day the World Went Away)

There's a thread of blood connecting them: it's strong, and sharp. Wesker follows its path with his fingertips, drawing reddish dribbles on Alex's thighs and watching her sigh — languid, relaxed. He leans over her, towering over her — a profile that swallows her whole — and Alex opens her tights beneath him, arching against his chest and brushing his lips with hers. "Come on, Al." she murmurs, inviting — ambiguous. "Isn't this what you've always wanted?" she encourages, and there's now a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. Wesker claws the back of her neck with his free hand, forcing her to bend into an almost unnatural position —the same one he'd prostrated her in a few hours earlier, beautiful and indecent, her head thrown over the edge of the bed and his cock down her throat. Alex smiles, revealing blood-stained teeth,

his,

that had sunk into his flesh, stifling her orgasm against his shoulder. He wanted to hurt her; he wanted to see her cry, and come — his name a plea and a supplication. He wanted to break her, and then put her back together piece by piece — rebuild her, and make her perfect.

Eternal.

He wanted to crush the world, Wesker, and watch it burn.

"It didn't take much to make me unworthy, Al; nothing more than a handful of genes and a few faulty proteins.''

He wanted to see her walk through the ruins of that ungrateful humanity clad only in blood and skin — her laughter the sound that would fill the silence, the empty space between his ribs. He wanted, Wesker, and he took — like her. Alex wraps her legs around his waist, caressing his cheek and drawing his attention again — a gesture she'd repeated several times over the past few years. He turns, finds her eyes — blue, like his own a lifetime ago, when they'd searched for each other from opposite sides of a gray-and-white laboratory. Alex kisses him, her lips warm, soft — demanding. I've wanted many things, he wants to tell her as he thrusts into her, drawing a gasp and a moan from her. And I've had them all, he should add, but he knows Alex would smile at him in that condescending, tolerant way of hers, exposing his lie.

"And then what will you do, Al? Will you save me like the knight in the fairy tale?"

No, he replied, brushing her damp hair away from her temple and breathing in her scent — blood and argan oil and him. "I will destroy the entire kingdom." he replied, whispered between a moan and a sigh. Alex is bleeding, and he is bleeding with her.