Claire Redfield Fanart Novels & Stories

His face was contorted in an expression she had never seen before—wild, almost feral with intensity. With growing trepidation, Claire began to look through the photographs, each one a shocking assault on her senses. Her hands trembled as she saw images of Aiden with another woman, the scenes captured in stark, unrelenting detail. The photos were explicit and brutal: Aiden fucking her roughly, his hands gripping her body with a force that seemed more about possession than passion. Another image showed him canning her, the woman’s back arched in pain, red welts rising on her skin with each strike. Claire could almost hear the crack of the cane, the silent screams echoing in her mind.

Her blonde hair cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders and her makeup was flawless with smoky eyes that made her blue eyes stand out and red lips that were both professional and devastating. She looked powerful and she felt it. The waiting room at Richard Grey's office had leather chairs and expensive art and Claire sat down and crossed her legs while other people arrived that she didn't recognize. Then Jeff walked in wearing a black suit and looking exhausted with dark circles under his eyes. Their eyes met and he froze. "You." Claire blinked and then almost laughed at herself because of course he's here, he's Howard's grandson, silly me. She looked away and examined her nails.

"No way. I was just asking Mr. Wade why you weren't here just earlier. How about some selfies to commemorate the moment?" After all, she knew very well what her fans liked and how to please them. For fans, if their star put aside their celebrity status and treated them like friends, even inviting them to come up to them up close, it was simply bliss. Claire herself had two favorite artists—one being Quinn Golding and the other being Tanya Sweet. She was therefore thrilled that Tanya was being friendly toward her and quickly said, "No, the photo can wait. Please, do what you have to."

Claire replied. “Hair dye? At times like this? " asked Fox. "Of course. I need a new atmosphere, right? " asked Claire with a wink. "Come on, don't make me curious. You must have a plan, right? " asked Fox. "Look at this," replied Claire while showing her laptop monitor screen. "Madame Marry Arnette Joyle?" asked Fox. "If we cover the face like this. Can't I be her?" asked Claire while covering part of the face in the woman's photo with her forefinger.

Claire let out one more loud scream and then stood in front of us as a wolf. Gwen, Steven, and I stood stunned at how her wolf looked. I had never seen anything like it, and I am sure that they hadn't either. Claire's wolf had all red fur with black around the eyes. Her eyes had changed from green to Gold. I had never heard of a red wolf in my life and knew she must be unique. "She is beautiful," Gwen said, and we all walked over to her slowly. "You are so beautiful, Angel," Steven said and began rubbing her fur. Claire began to purr.

"I've been having these dreams since Mom's accident. Since the night she went into a coma." She turned the screen toward me. Drawings. Dozens of them. Digital sketches done on her phone, rough and desperate and achingly detailed. They showed a woman—Claire—trapped in darkness. Screaming silently behind what looked like glass or water or some invisible barrier. In some drawings, her body was separate from a glowing, translucent version of herself—like her soul had been ripped away. In others, she was reaching toward something just out of frame. The style was raw. These weren't careful art projects. These were frantic attempts to capture something seen in the depths of a nightmare. Each one wa

“Long. And teary. Claire’s voice kept echoing in my head ‘Your art is cute, but when are you going to grow up?’ But seeing you… it’s already better. Thanks for inviting me, Lia. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She pulled back just enough to cup my face, thumbs brushing away a stray tear. Her touch lingered, gentle and familiar. “Hey, none of that. Claire was blind and cruel. You’re an incredible illustrator, Rose. Those dreamy watercolors you did in college? They still give me chills. This month is yours no ex talk unless you want it, okay? Just us, the willows, healing, and creating whatever magic you want.” I nodded, smiling despite the ache. “Deal. But only if you promise not to go

Between her, Candido, and the rest of Full Moon, I couldn’t have asked for a better family, not even if we were related by blood. “Maybe we should go shopping before your birthday?” Claire asked. “Something in his favorite color?” I rolled my eyes. “Black?” Claire giggled. “Well, when you put it that way… Maybe red?” I shook my head, though as someone walked past me in the same shade of red as the fabric that had been found at Moon Shadow’s headquarters, I paused. “Claire… what is that shade of red called?” “There’s no official name, but we usually call it Moon Goddess red.” Claire chuckled. “Don’t ask me why red is the color and not silver or white. No one really knows.”

That one stung. I brushed a stray curl from her cheek. “What are you drawing?” She hesitated, then flipped the page toward me. It was a sketch of three stick figures. One was tall with black hair, one with long brown hair, and one small in the middle holding both their hands. Ryan. Me. Her. My throat tightened. “That’s beautiful, Molly.” She shrugged. “I was bored.” Claire appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, that look on her face, the one that meant she’d been thinking about something serious.