#re3r carlos

[kisses-for-you]

Nemesis - Carlos Oliveira

Carlos Oliveira X GN!Reader

Summary: During a fight with a creature known as 'Nemesis', you get injured but you try to hide it from Carlos.

Word Count: 1,839

You and Carlos had been trying to find more survivors to gather at the train station, fighting off a lot of undead on your search. The undead, however, were not the only problem.

A tyrant, whose name you learned was Nemesis, was another problem to add to your list.

While roaming the streets of Raccoon City, you hear loud footsteps behind you and Carlos. It can't possibly be more zombies because they're not that loud, so what the hell is it?

You and Carlos turn around and you're met with a terrifying sight. It appears to be a towering, mutated monstrosity with gruesome deformities and a grotesque appearance. Its head is elongated, and its skull is exposed, revealing pulsating, mutated brain tissue. Its mouth is filled with sharp teeth, giving it a menacing and carnivorous appearance. It's wearing a tattered trench coat and looks well over 7 feet tall, making it a literal giant compared to you.

"What the fuck?.." you mutter under your breath, disgusted but more scared than anything.

The creature held a menacing glare as it stared at both of you, just a few mere feet in front of it.

Your breathing becomes faster and more shallow as your heart pounds in your chest. You don't move a single muscle, unsure of what's going to come next.

You glance over at Carlos on your left, who seems to be keeping his composure pretty well. How the fuck can he look so calm?

You have no time to think before Nemesis lunges forward, coming right at you both. Carlos dodges and goes to the left, but you happen to go to the right.

Nemesis whips around, turning to Carlos. You have to do something. And fast.

You decide to whistle at Nemesis, catching its attention, and making it look at you.

"Here, boy!" you call out to it as if it were a dog.

This seems to work though because it starts heading towards you. You start to realise that you seriously didn't think this one through.

Having no idea what to do, your feet stay glued to the ground. All you can do is stand and watch as it gets closer, ready to kill you.

You clench your fists as you feel your palms slowly start sweating. All the anxiety and fear was finally getting to you.

"Y/N!" Carlos shouts to you, moments before Nemesis throws you against a nearby wall.

After being violently hurled against the wall, you crumpled to the ground, clutching your aching ribs. Your face contorted in pain as your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out the distant sounds of Carlos, who was now shooting at Nemesis.

You slowly begin to feel a warm substance coming out of your side. You winced as you clutched your side, where a jagged shard of metal had pierced your flesh. Blood welled around the foreign object. Luckily for you, you were wearing nearly all black clothes, meaning it at least wouldn't stain.

Each breath sent waves of excruciating pain through your body but you weren't the type to give up so easily.

You pull the object out carefully, not wanting to do any further damage. You didn't want Carlos to know about this. You didn't want to make him worry any more than he already was. Sure, it wouldn't necessarily be easy to keep a secret, you could certainly try, however.

You zip up your leather jacket, hoping it will do the job and hide your injury.

You look up and see Nemesis starting to kneel on the ground, clearly stunned by one of Carlos' shots. As soon as Carlos knows it's down, he runs over to you.

"Hey, you good?" he asks, his face tightened with concern as he watched you sitting up against the wall.

You give him a small nod and reply with your most reassuring tone, "Yeah, I'm fine. My ribs just kinda hurt."

You hear him let out a deep sigh before placing a hand on your shoulder and speaking to you, "Come on. I'm taking you back to the station to get you checked out. We need to make sure it's nothing serious."

"I told you. I'm fine." You snapped, accidently.

You don't want to go back because you know he'll realise what happened. And you don't want that. It'll just stress him out even more.

"They'll probably just tell you that you got a bruised rib or something. Let's go, Y/N."

You want to argue back, say that you don't want to go, but you realise that'll just make it more suspicious.

"Fine." You mutter as you finally begin to get up.

You clenched your jaw, determined not to let a whimper escape your lips. Your knuckles turned white as you balled your hand into a fist.

You slightly lose your balance, however, Carlos is right there to catch you. One of his arms wraps around your waist, holding you in place. This kind of gives you butterflies.

"It's okay, I got you. You sure you're okay?" he asks you, once again, now more concerned than before.

"I'm sure. Thanks, Carlos," you reply, not even hesitating to lie right to his face.

Carlos doesn't look convinced as his brows slightly furrow, but he decides to just ignore the nagging feeling that there's something else you're not telling him.

You felt yourself slightly weakening from the loss of blood, though you tried your best not to show it.

Carlos starts to walk back to the station, before turning around to look at you and asking in a teasing tone, "Can you walk or do you want me to carry you?"

You roll your eyes playfully at him before giving him a small, forced smile, "I can walk perfectly fine by myself, Carlos."

He nods and turns back around, in the direction of the station. You manage to catch up with him, now walking at the same pace together.

You made sure your jacket stayed in place, not showing off your weakness to anyone or anything. You also try to minimize any movements that might reveal your ache and discomfort.

You finally get to the station after a couple of minutes of trying to hide the excruciating pain you are currently experiencing.

As soon as Carlos closes the gate, your knees suddenly feel wobbly, like they've turned to jelly. You try to hold yourself up by leaning against the wall, but it's no use and your knees suddenly give way, causing you to lose your balance and collapse onto the hard floor.

Carlos hears a thud behind him and turns around to investigate. You were sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall, and clutching your side. You were incredibly pale, and you looked like you could pass out at any given moment.

His brows shoot up and his eyes widen as he rushes over to you, kneeling on the ground. "Y/N? Are you okay?"

You grunt in pain, slightly shaking your head, before undoing your jacket and lifting your shirt, revealing your wound that was still bleeding heavily.

He looks even more surprised as he glances over at the wound, inspecting it. "Y/N, this is serious! Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" His tone was worried, but you could hear a hint of anger as well.

"I didn't want to make you worry..." You start to trail off, realising you don't necessarily have the best excuse.

"God, you absolute idiot," He mutters quietly under his breath before continuing to speak normally, "I'm going to get some supplies. I won't be long so just don't die on me, okay?"

You look up at him, getting more tired by the second. All you can do is give him a small, simple nod.

"Good," he says, before getting up to go grab supplies.

You watch him leave then you look down at your hand, which is holding the wound on your side. It was completely covered in blood. There was nothing you could do right now to try to stop the bleeding. Just hope and pray Carlos gets back soon.

Your vision blurred and your limbs felt heavy. You fought desperately to stay awake. The world around you seemed to spin in slow motion, and every breath was a battle.

Your eyelids, like lead weights, threatened to close with each passing second. Your thoughts grew foggy, and you struggled to concentrate, your mind slipping into a hazy abyss.

Cold sweat dotted your pale forehead, and your pulse, weak and thready, echoed in your ears like a distant drumbeat.

Despite the pain and dizziness, you clenched your teeth, determined to remain conscious, knowing that surrendering to the beckoning darkness might just mean you'll never get to see Carlos again.

You still had so much to tell him. How much you love him, and how much you want to be with him. There was a whole list of things you still had left to say and there was no way you were leaving without telling him every single one of them.

You heard footsteps coming towards you, but your vision was so blurry that you could barely make out who it was.

"Y/N?..." the figure next to you calls out your name. Their voice sounds so distant, even though they're so close.

You feel some pressure on your side, realising the person there was taking care of your wound.

You tried to say something, do something, anything to show that you were still here. But to no avail. Your limbs were heavy and completely unresponsive.

Each shallow breath you drew seemed to slip away like a fading whisper, and your chest rose and fell with diminishing effort.

You could feel a hand start to shake your shoulder. The touch sent warmth radiating through your skin.

They called out your name, this time, however, they didn't sound so distant. They sounded closer. With each breath that you took, it felt like life was slowly coming back to you.

You open your eyes, your vision is no longer blurry and when you look up, you're met with the familiar comforting, brown eyes that you've grown to love.

"Carlos?" You say his name, almost like a question, making sure it's him.

His strong arms enveloped you, providing a protective hold that made you feel as if nothing else mattered right now.

You slightly wince as you hug him back, your wound causing you more pain. Carlos notices and pulls away.

You look closely at his face and notice his eyes, which glistened with unshed tears, reflecting the light like dewdrops.

"I- I'm so glad you're okay. I thought I lost you, Y/N... Please, promise me that you won't pull another stunt like that ever again." His voice practically begged.

He was worried and scared, he didn't want to lose you. He couldn't.

"I promise, Carlos. I'm sorry."

His lips curled into a gentle, small smile and he mumbled something. You could just about make it out.

"I love you."

[mootanukii]

ive noticed this dynamic a lot in resident evil

[sinsofnivan]

hiii thank you so much for writing carlos

eumm can I ask for another Carlos x reader fluff and nsfw

pleaseee im begging

Have a nice day!

divider gif belongs to kdanie.

CARLOS OLIVEIRA HEADCANONS .ᐟ

A/N: ask and you shall receive. :smirk_cat:

SFW/fluff.

⟡ ── a gentleman through and through. every door you come across—an entrance to the mall or shop, your car door, he always opens and holds it for you.

⟡ ── he also switches to the side closest to the street when you're out on walks, your bag slung atop his shoulder. you will never get the chance to hold your own bags, because he always steals it from your hands. don't try to argue or reach for it. because if you do, he'll just raise it above his head and tease you for being too short.

⟡ ── always goes along with whatever you wanna do. you saw this trend on tiktok where men's girlfriends wrap ribbons around their biceps? bet. that trend where girlfriends cover their boyfriends with lipstick kisses? fucking bet. make him wear a ghostface mask? consider it done.

seriously. as long as it seemed fun and was safe and consensual, he'll do it.

⟡ ── fucking looooves to flaunt you off. especially when you're wearing a dress that he bought? or when you do your nails the colours that he suggested? it's his own way of branding you, letting everyone know that you were being treated right by him.

⟡ ── carlos also loves the way you smell. he always finds himself burying his nose in your hair when you cuddle. it soothes him. when you're not around, he cuddles your sweater so it feels like you're with him.

⟡ ── not the jealous type. he's very confident.

⟡ ── lover of all bodies too, by the way. he doesn't care if you gain weight. he benches your body weight ( and more. ) just so he could show you that he can carry you in his arms.

⟡ ── also dates to marry.

⟡ ── your number one supporter. if you have zero fans, he's dead. he's always pushing you to pursue your dreams, encouraging you to take risks.

⟡ ── loves to make you laugh. your laugh is his favourite sound eveeeerrrr.

⟡ ── also, carlos is a romantic.

⟡ ── he's the greenest of all green flags.

NSFW/lewd.

⟡ ── always goes along with whatever you wanna do. you wanna be on top? sure. interested in trying this bdsm shit? kinky, but sure. make him wear a ghostface mask? dang, you're so freaky, but alright, bet.

"babe, what do you mean you want to wrap a ribbon around it?"

⟡ ── does not give a shit if you shaved or not. he'll eat you out no matter what. he's also pretty hairy. sometimes trims his bush, but you don't seem to have any complaints with it.

⟡ ── has good head game. you can't tell me otherwise. he would be orally fixated too, always sucking on your nipples or your clit as a past time.

⟡ ── yes, he always finds your clit.

⟡ ── used condoms when you first started exploring your sex life. the first time he goes in raw, he literally just spills his cum with just a few thrusts.

carlos swears that he's never using condoms again after that day. and it's a memory you both still giggle at.

⟡ ── loves to 69. he really just loves the feeling of your warm throat while he gets to taste you too. he's just addicted to your taste of your cunt and cum . . literally he can cum just by jerking off to the thought of it.

⟡ ── sometimes dirty talks to you in spanish. especially when he's really immersed in the moment.

⟡ ── literally loves every position. as long as he gets to bury his cock deep inside you, he's happy. he's not a titties man or an ass man or even a thigh man, he's an i love my girlfriend's body man. so whatever position you want him in—doggy, missionary, cowgirl—it didn't matter. he's always gonna end up rutting his hips and vigorously ramming your creamy cunt.

⟡ ── both a degradation and praise connoisseur. it's just the perfect mix of both, and he does it so well, too . . .

⟡ ── also, he doesn't mean to but he loves leaving hickeys on your body. mostly on your chest and on the inside of your thighs. he also loves it when you mark him or scratch him.

⟡ ── loves to edge himself so he can cum a thick, fat load into you and watch his cum leak from your pretty cunt.

⟡ ── has a stamina of a god. he can go for a few more rounds after he's reached his peak. especially when you're still horny and want more, he's more than eager to shove his fingers into you while his tongue lapped up your clit.

⟡ ── loves to cuddle and kiss you all over when you're both spent.

⟡ ── you didn't hear this from me but he also loves cockwarming. something about keepin' you plugged and stretched makes his brain go brrr . . .

end.

[lucilles-remains]

capcom why did you leave me in a cold cruel carlos-less world? ☹️

[cecibeanz]

valeveira redraw based off of this LMAO

[crimescrimson]

Carlos Oliveira & Jill Valentine in Resident Evil 3 (2020)

[ride-the-mindway]

Heya, I’m not dead. Funny that I keep finding myself back here even though I haven’t contributed much art lately due to online schooling…also, if it’s not apparent by now I’m back on a weird Resident Evil kick lately. I’ve actually been a RE fan for a long time, but I kept a bit quiet in the community for awhile and I had to avert my attention elsewhere outside of social media shit.

Well that is until RE3R Carlos came along. I was pretty surprised by his recent glow up so this dude has been living in my head rent free for a month and a half and probably has so many ladies and gents knocking at his doorstep the moment he existed… I wasn’t that big on OG Carlos admittedly, but gotta respect to the OG anyway. I initially started off as a Jill/Chris and Leon fan, but weirdly Carlos won me over with his looks and kinda of cheeky charm. Keep in mind, I will not tolerate discourse about his hair lol...

I drew numerous Carlos stuff cuz I wanted to get used to drawing him often and maybe the other denizens of RE that I really like. I’m not 100% sold on a style I want to commit to yet, but I do enjoy drawing him…I just really hate drawing his tactical vest haha. I’m tempted to make a daily Carlos account kind of inspired by the Leon one as an excuse to expel my suffocating head canons.

[svnderlands]

rest in peace carlos oliveira you would’ve loved being an epf agent in club penguin

[kennyswurvegurl]

Never gonna be normal about the fact that Carlos is cannonically a communist freedom fighter and Capcom never really did anything with him its insane they just fucking gloss over him despite making him one of the most interesting motherfuckers in the franchise

"Here is an indigenous South American man who took up arms against a corrupt government as a young child. You will only know this if you read the game manuals, play the Wii spinoff, and skim the official novels. You will never see him again after this, even when it would make sense to bring him back. We refuse to elaborate further. You're welcome. Fuck you."

LIKE WHAAAAAAAT THE FUCK

[messenger-of-babel]

Drinks and a Dream

Summary: Trying to escape the outbreak in Raccoon City, you find an ally amongst the chaos- might as well flirt a little. (Carlos Oliveira x fem! reader)

Word Count: 3.1K

Notes: Back to Resi! Some love for my boy Carlos, the remake did him so well. Mentions of injury, blood, and death, as expected of Raccoon City. It might be a little short because I'm wiped rn (who knew graduating university would be so labour intensive? 😮‍💨) We are literally on the home stretch now, I really hope that you all have enjoyed my writing so far, and thank you so much for your lovely feedback as always.

Enjoy Lovelies~! xx

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Blood. Screaming. Chaos.

You'd just come back home from work, tired from your shitty shift at the local newspaper. Your key had been shoved into the lock a little rougher than it needed to be, and the door swung open to slam into the same dent carved into the paper-thin walls. Bag thrown on the couch, shoes tossed carelessly across the living room to clatter near the doorway for tomorrow, and phone pulled out with take out on speed dial.

You'd just settled into watching the first thirty minutes of your comfort movie, half eaten pizza in front of you when you'd heard it. The undeniable screeching of tires and the shattering of glass that seemed to shake the frames of your cardboard constructed apartment. alarmed you had sprung from the couch, shoving open the window that groaned with protest as you leaned over the fire escape to see better. From your apartment on the fourth floor, you could make out the crumpled frame of a car, hood smashed into a light post like a crumpled piece of paper. You winced.

Something was always happening around Raccoon City. Not to say that it was always as spectacular as a car crash, in fact, you'd been assigned some boring historical piece on the Raccoon City Orphanage earlier this week. No, Raccoon City was a place just busy enough to keep the press rolling, but still so dull as to make every hour one to regret becoming a journalist. However, as the panic started, and the pitches of the screams outside swelled into a chorus, the cold pit in your stomach told you that maybe Raccoon itself had been the bad choice.

One moment you're thinking of who's going to be the sucker headed into the RPD the next morning to try and get a statement from the police about the crash, and the next minute you're the sucker rattling the bars of the closed RPD station, flipping off Irons as they board up the windows and begin to barricade themselves in.

It's not like you had to scramble down the creaking metal of the fire escape ladder as the upstairs neighbour, Mrs. Smith, falls from her window on the sixth floor to make a sickening painting on the pavement. Or the fact that somehow the city went from a shithole to a shithole on fire in what felt like only an hour. No explanation for the dead that suddenly reanimated and chased you through the alley ways. No explanation for the barricades at the city exit. No explanation for why or what or who or how.

There had been survivors of this of course. At the start at least. you'd been lucky enough to live downtown to a hunting store but even by the time you got there you'd only secured a half box of ammo strewn across the floor and a shotgun you'd had to pry off someone’s body. You'd done everything, anything to get out of this god damned city, to not get bitten or scratched or grabbed or whatever the hell it was making people rapidly decay. To not die.

Yet here you were, propped up on some buildings fire escape, ladder pulled up so no one can follow you up while you clutch at your bleeding shoulder. Who knew your biggest threat was the living? Some asshole had shot you instead of the zombie, their shaky hands betraying their aim despite you calling for them to wait so you could get clear first. Instead of that there was simply the bang, the scream, and the retreating footfalls of the survivor that had left you out of fear or guilt. Either fit.

The crimson spilled between your fingers in small trickles, warm and sticky. It burnt like crazy when you put pressure on it, and despite your brain telling you to press harder, that you needed to press harder to try and slow the bleeding, it became a conscious effort. Your palm subconsciously lifted every now and then to try and reduce the pain and discomfort, unable to commit to pressing down hard enough as the body's override kicked in. You considered yourself lucky, as lucky as you could be in this situation. The bullet could have gone into your neck, but maybe that would've been a kinder death than whatever fate awaited you when the wound inevitably got infected. You sigh and lean your head on the cold railing of the stairs. How messed up.

"Hey, up there. You alright?"

Your eyes fly open and instantly your free hand goes for the shotgun, propping it on your knee as you point it to the man who had called up to you. Other hand still trying to press on your wound, you shoot him a glare. He raises his hands in surrender, palms open as you scan him over with a critical eye. He was tall and stocky, gun slung over his shoulder and armed to the teeth. A mop of dark, unruly curls fell over his eyes, which looked you over with a sense of concern and wariness.

"Did you get bit?"

You purse your lips before shaking your head once. "Shot."

His warm eyes widen slightly. "Shot? who shot you?"

"I wasn't really asking their name when it happened."

He takes another step towards you, and you readjust the gun, warning him. He freezes, reaching out with his hands slowly in a soothing motion. "Hey, hey, take it easy. I'm with Umbrella. I'm evacuating civilians, you can trust me." he says slowly and calmly. "We've got a train heading out of the city, we can put you on it, you just need to trust me, okay?"

you could almost cry from relief hearing that there was finally a way out of this hell, that someone somewhere had come to help.

"What's your name sweetheart?" he calls out, approaching where you are with a little more confidence once your shoulders drop. You heave a deep sigh, chest suddenly feeling a lot heavier than you thought before, eyes taking a second more than usual to pry themselves apart after each blink. Despite it you still get the energy to call out your name, making a boyish smile flicker at his lips.

"I'm Carlos. I'm going to get you out." he smiles back, lowering his hands once you pull the shotgun to your side once more. His gaze scans over you, flickering around your figure. "Can I come up there? help you out with that shoulder?" he asks. You just nod, sighing through your nose as you get tired, and a small moment of silence envelops the two of you.

"I need you to drop the ladder to get up." he tries to coax, eyes trying to maintain contact with yours after each languid blink. You shift your own blurring vision to the ladder you pulled up behind you.

"What’s the password?" you mumble, a lightheaded smile twitching upwards for a second. Carlos is almost taken aback, the crows’ feet at the corner of his eyes crinkling upwards.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your ladder," he calls playfully, yet voice tinged with the same shade of worry as before.

"Close enough." you grumble, thudding your heel into the ladder and causing it to unfold again. you swear you only blinked once, but when you open your eyes again hes crouched next to you.

"Welcome back." he chuckles, and you have to stop your face form flushing as you take in his features up close. The sharp line of his jaw is visible as he turns his head to pull gauze and an alcohol pad out of one of his many pockets. His hair falls softly in front of his face, the stubble of his beard bobbing as the muscle in his jaw clenches. you're snapped out of the daydream as he places a broad palm over yours on the wound, pressing firmly and making you hiss. Unlike you from before, his hands are trained and deliberate, not easing up as they find the right pressure you were unable to.

"Sorry about that." he murmurs, eyes flicking to your face to see your reaction. He pulls back the shirt slightly, easing pressure only momentarily so his fingers can gently press on the inflamed skin around the wound. "Shit…" he whispers softly, other hand coming to feel the back of your shoulder.

"What?" you grumble, head lolling to the side to look at him, frown forming. His eyes meet yours, the hesitant glance still enough to send your heart fluttering. "Can't feel an exit wound." he winces, making the air in your lungs exhale in one long sigh.

"You've got to be shitting me," you mumble. He shakes his head, already packing his things.

"Come on, we've got some painkillers back at base and I'll have to get it out," he says, cringing as he imagines it. "we're not too far away, I can get you there before this gets worse."

He slings your gun over his shoulder, before dragging his eyes between your increasingly groggy state and the fire escape.

"You okay to get down?" He asks, boyish demeanour coming back. you lean forward slightly, eyeing the ladder before nodding.

"Fireman's carry okay?"

You head turns to him, where the grin has managed to stay on his face this time, albeit a little apologetic looking. "What?" you ask, eyebrows drawn together. He shrugs. "Sorry, it's the only way actually. Can't do bridal to get down the ladder unfortunately." without another warning Carlos strides over to you, one arm sliding under the bend of your knees and he kneels next to you, other coming around your middle to lift you onto his shoulder as you yelp.

"Hey!" you protest as he covers the distance to the ladder in two strides, and then he's climbing down. You must've slipped out of consciousness for another second, because the next blink that you register, he's patting your calves to wake you up. "There she is," he murmurs. "We're nearly there."

You groan, head light and dizzy. "You could've put me down; I got shot in the shoulder not the leg."

"I did. you folded like a pack of cards."

"Well why not bridal style then?"

"Who says you can't carry a bride like this?"

"Me."

"Well sorry, hot stuff. Need a hand free to use this." he says, and you hear the rattle of his gun as he shakes it in his other hand. "But on a good note, we're here."

When you had gotten into the transformed train station, he'd introduced you briefly to Mikhail, his boss who was running the evacuation operation. You'd just been able to nod weakly as Carlos set you up on a crate, ripping your shoulder sleeve more to get a look at the wound. Turning your head you could see the sticky mess it had made of your flesh, causing your skin to crawl at the metallic smell. "Is this going to hurt?" you whisper out to him. Carlos places a warm hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly. He offers up a small smile, the comforting curve of his lips betraying his words.

"It'll probably feel like hell."

He wasn't lying. While he'd been digging the bullet out of your shoulder, he'd made you bite onto some spare cloth they'd rustled up, although the flimsy material was hardly enough to block out the noises ripped from your throat. However, eventually it was done and he'd moved onto the more peaceful endeavour of wrapping it up, disinfecting the wound while you tried to catch your breath, sweat beading your forehead. "How you feeling, hot stuff?" he chuckled, catching your glare.

"I can't decide whether I'm pissed off or tired." you reply, throat aching.

"Probably both," he hums, tucking the bandage tight. "I know that I sure am."

You meet his eyes, and there’s a thrum that races across your skin. Maybe surviving wouldn't be that bad after all.

Carlos stays with you, and eventually the burning pain mellows out into a dull throb. "That's the stuff," you groan out, head against the brick wall with a light exhale. He chuckles looking down at you from his position beside you.

"Painkillers kick in?"

"Hell yeah they did." you mumble back, and it feels like the weight on your chest has lightened somewhat. You make small talk while his squad makes plans on evacuation the rest of the city. It bleeds from minutes and feels like hours, but you weren’t sure if that was the pain meds or Carlos himself. He talked in a smooth, low tone that had your tension melting instantly, smiling like he had known you all his life. he was friendly and optimistic despite the circumstances, and you couldn't help but feeling drawn to him and his persistent personality. The boyish grin he wore and the soft curling of his hair in front of his eyes made your pulse race, heart thudding every time your eyes met.

You both talked about basic things, like your favourite movies and meals. he rattled on about how much he couldn't stand the fake spray cheese, and you traded your childhood distaste of tomatoes. You weren't sure if it was the conversation or the blood loss to blame for the hazy glow that had appeared behind his head, or the tingle in your hands. That's when you make your next words, you can't help them when they slip out past your lips.

"We should go out some time," you tiredly say. "My friend lives in the next city over, runs a nice bar. I can get us some free margaritas." you shrug, dopey smile on your face. He gives you a stunned look, head whipping around so fast his hair flies. The sight makes you giggle, your filter slipping. "Come on, I'm not the worst company, am I?"

He regards you in silence before sighing softly, shaking his head as a smile creeps across his face. "Margaritas? Really?" he asks.

"Hey, what's wrong with them?" you defend. "Plus, they're free. You really gonna draw the line at margaritas?"

He chuckles, arm sliding behind your back to help support you. In your haze you can hear another soldier corralling the other survivors into a train cart, undoubtably where he's taking you too.

"I tell you what," he hums, a cheeky smile now flitting across his face. "If they're free, I might swing by." he grins at you. "And I might have you on my arm for that. Fair deal?"

Your head lolls arounds, the painkillers really starting to numb you out now. "Correction," you slur. "You're gonna be on my arm."

That pulls a bark of a laugh from him, as he helps you sit down in a train seat. He crouches in front of you, pushing your hair from your face and helping you sit up properly. The joking tone in his voice slips away a little as he regards you with soft eyes. "You're gonna be okay, sweetheart." he murmurs.

You can't keep yourself up properly, making him sigh and help you lie down. To him you look out of it, hair splayed out behind you and pupils dilated. He feels a stab of guilt, maybe he shouldn't have given you the painkiller that had the strong sedatives in it. However, to you, he looks ethereal. You smile, looking up at him to memorise his face before the claws of sleep fade over your vision. "See you on the other side, sweetheart." he grins at you, giving you a mock two finger salute. You grin lazily, blinking rapidly to stay awake. "Come find me for a drink, Oliveria." you say, tone beginning to taper off softly. When you fall asleep he makes sure that you're comfortable, stepping away as he hears the calling of Mikhail. He casts you once last glance, softly huffing to himself before he joined the rest of his team and Mikhail patted the side of the passenger cart, the train beginning to move.

When he goes out to continue his mission, his heart is still for the first time since finding you on that fire escape. Sure, you had been a bit forward, but he had found it endearing. He liked the way that your eyes sparkled when you smiled, and the way that your hair fell across your face. He respected how you had persevered by yourself until then, and it hadn't even been the zombies that had taken you down. There was a spark in you that he couldn't help but be entranced by, your fire sparking something in himself. He had ridden that content bliss knowing that in the midst of it all the carnage, life could continue on around it.

Yet that bubble got shattered the moment he had gottan the radio call from Jill, who should have been well on her way out of the city by now.

He could hear the panic in her voice even through the crackling of the comms. T looked at him in worry, glancing from the computer screen to Carlos' falling face. There was a certain type of dread that settled into his bones and froze his blood, stopping his heart when he managed to conjure up the sleeping image of you. You had been on that train too.

Words bounced around in his head, derailed, Mikhail, Nemesis...it all seemed to ring together in one droning sound. He can vaguely hear T calling him, Jill on the other side too. "Yeah, copy." he says into the earpiece before Jill cuts out.

"I've got somewhere to be," he calls at T, who waves him off with a nod. Carlos' steps are harsh and heavy as he finds his way out of the hospital. No matter how fast he walks he can’t get the image of you out of his head, alight with flame in your peaceful sleep. He had seen you just hours ago. He had patched that wound of yours and laid you down like it was a hospital. He had promised you that you'd get out.

Carlos lets his jaw clench, teeth grinding against each other as he hurries to the last location Jill had said over the line. When he said he’d see you on the other side, he didn’t think you’d go that far from him.

“They better have margaritas up there, hot stuff.” He mumbles under his breath as he reloads, anything to stop the shake of anger boiling in his fingertips. “Have one for me.”

[kairi-fruit]

This has been my mind for years now. I always flip flop. I had to get this off my chest.

[sleepy-harper]

green dinosaur themed little carlos oliveira moodboard

he is suchhhh a dino kid.... playing in fields,, drawing them out,, always finding excuses so his carers can give him another dino bandaid,, dino coloring books,, he is just soso dino coded,, n i think his favorite would b a triceratops

[lostdemonchild]

Some Carlos doodles

[dibukae]

I love Brazilian people I wish they were real

[winterserra]

My world is no longer Carlos-less.

[cecibeanz]

Valeveira recovering from raccoon city …🥲