#claire goes back early

[opens-up-4-nobody]

I desperately need to be a scene kid for Halloween this year

[fushitoru]

chapter 6: the house party a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ you are bedridden, recovering from your wound, when gojo delivers season-changing news. the house party that follows buzzes with tension, and an unexpected arrival that sends ripples through the ton (7.4k)

a/n thank you as always to the pooks @/sinn-clair for beta reading this <333 i'll see you after the chapter is over!

prev. the fall | next. the rebound

general masterlist | series masterlist

Gentle Reader,

One query occupies this Author's mind, be it ladies or mamas alike—what exactly are Miss Itadori and Lord Gojo up to in the countryside? Perhaps a trifling dalliance of hearts, or will the ton bear witness to a scandal uncovered when they arrive for the house party? After having arrived a week early—and positioned as the diamond of the season—one must guess that if all goes well and Miss Itadori plays her cards right, she will be showing off her new surely lavish diamond engagement ring. Yet, she must take great care, for to err in this delicate matter would be to jeopardize a most significant match with Lord Gojo. Only time shall tell the outcome of this intrigue.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Upon waking, the physician informed you that you had been unconscious for some days. Though no immediate danger threatened you, it had been long enough to send both families into a state of great disquiet. It seemed that even before you’d regained full awareness, a servant—who had gasped upon hearing your feeble request for water—had swiftly spread the news, for not a moment later Yuji burst into the room.

“SISTER!” he exclaims, hurtling his way towards you with heavy steps. You flinch in your position on the bed at the sound of his loud voice. “You are awake! Mama seemed like she would faint, Choso had almost popped a bloody vein, he looked like he was about to challenge Lord Gojo to a duel—”

“Yuji! My dear,” you had to shout, interrupting the boy’s ramblings, giving him an uneasy smile. “Lower your volume, please. I might faint back into unconsciousness due to the strain, and this time you will be the one dueling Choso.”

The pout Yuji adopts is akin to a chastened hound as he grabs a chair to sit next to you. You take this moment to surveil your surroundings, now with a clear headedness granted to you that hadn’t been granted before. There were fresh flowers adorning a vase on the table on your bedside, and you seemed to be wearing a shift, cleaned and changed out of your dirty and mud-ridden dress. There was a gauze surrounding your head, and you could feel some similar cloth on your ankle.

You turned to your brother. “Now then, what were you saying?”

He perks up. “Well, you’ve been in quite a state, dear sister! It’s not every day you’re injured before breaking fast. Choso practically spat his tea when he heard! And, of course, Duchess Gojo has been endlessly apologetic. Between Mama, Choso, and me, we’ve all been in quite a state. I daresay you’re hardly known for clumsiness—although you do have your moments on horseback.” At the memories seemingly pooling themselves in his mind, Yuji sniggers while you shoot him a look to not be testy. “And Gojo has been nothing short of attentive. No doubt the man’s come in to change your flowers more than the doctor’s visited you. He’s so caring, he even cares for a worm like you!” 

You ignore Yuji’s jab, instead forcing yourself not to be gripped by the fact that Gojo had been so…attentive to you. Of course, it was as an indirect result of his sheer vexing nature that you were bedridden in such a manner, so it should not set your heart aflutter like a foolish girl. But your traitorous heart seems to hate listening to reason. 

You begin to nod slowly. “And how many days have I been out? When is the house party?” Taking a gander at the windows in the room you were situated in, you could see the moon and star’s light filtering the curtains. You weren’t sure if it was the evening or night or completely early in the morning.

He looks up to the ceiling, as if calculating something, brows furrowed. “Today.”

Groaning, you put your head in your hands, playing with your hair as it falls through the gaps of your fingers. “Mother is going to kill me.”

“Oh, indeed,” Yuji replied with a hum, stretching his arms in a cat-like yawn. “Now, I must get back to my rest. The servants were gossiping near my door, so I thought I’d see for myself that you weren’t dead.” He kissed you on the cheek before heading to the door. “Sleep, sister, for I expect Mama will tire you endlessly come morning.”

Later, a gentle nudge at your arm and a few soft “Miss! Wake up!”’s roused you from sleep. You opened your eyes to find a maid hunched over you, relief clear in her expression as you met her gaze with a drowsy squint. “Miss, Lord Gojo requests your presence. May I allow him in?”

With a nod, you fought off your annoyance at having been disturbed. The maid, visibly flustered, hurried to admit Gojo, who soon approached with quiet footsteps. As you propped yourself up, arms crossed, you gave him a mildly reproachful look. “Gojo, you’ve roused me from my slumber. I trust this is a matter of utmost importance—-” you began, then trailed off as you took in his expression.

He was taut, as though his very sinews were wound tight. Standing rigidly, his jaw clenched, his gaze flitted everywhere but to you. Troubled, you tried, “Gojo?”

At the sound of his name, he looked sharply at you and seemed to gather himself. “Ah… forgive me.” He took a seat and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, artificial. “How is your recovery?” You eye him suspiciously. His leg is moving up and down anxiously, the action minute in a way that makes you think he’s not aware of doing it. The tight and strained smile on his face seems uncanny, his concern seeming out of place. “Well, as much as it can be for me bleeding out pints and pints of blood from my head,” at that, you note that he subtly flinches, “but all is well!” You spread out your arms and give him a dazzling smile, and his eyes follow. “I’m sure my mama and my maid are itching to rush in here to prepare me for the house party.” Giving him a playful glare, you continue, “And just for the pain you caused me, you ought to have two dances and a few pastries prepared tonight.”

At that, he looks at you for a quick glance before quickly turning away, seemingly collecting himself. In what you could observe in his previous expression, you were surprised to see yearning present in his blue eyes, filled with feelings that perplexed you. Gojo was acting very odd.

Then, he drew in a measured breath, his jaw clenched as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. He finally looked at you, a shadowed intensity in his gaze that made your heart beat faster—not in the way it used to when his eyes sparked with wit, but with a sense of foreboding.

"Miss Itadori," he began, his voice lower, lacking the familiar, teasing cadence. "I must apologize for the trouble I have brought upon you. I was… heedless, perhaps even reckless, and it seems I have caused you nothing but suffering."

You frowned, confusion beginning to bubble beneath the surface as he paused, clearly struggling to continue. He seemed almost pitiable, looking down at his hands, which were tightly woven together, his knuckles pale. But pity was not a feeling you had patience for. Not now. Not with Gojo of all people.

"Trouble?" you repeated, folding your arms. "I do believe that's an understatement, my lord. A mere misstep, surely?"

His eyes flicked back to yours, the corner of his mouth tugging in a grim semblance of a smile. "Understatement or not, it remains the truth," he replied, his voice nearly a murmur. "I cannot in good conscience continue this… attachment we have formed. The position of courtship our mamas have placed us in. For I fear it is you who stands to lose most dearly if I remain by your side."

You stiffened, his words crashing over you like a cold wave. "Attachment?" you said, bitterness coloring the word. "Do not dress it up with such kind words, Lord Gojo. An attachment is something formed with care, with respect—qualities you seem to find inconvenient."

He winced but did not break eye contact. "I will not argue with you," he said softly, voice steady in its regret. "Perhaps I am no master of attachments, nor have I ever claimed to be. But know that I had never wished to see you harmed—"

"Harmed?" you interrupted, your voice growing louder as anger swelled within you. "Is this some twisted apology, then? A show of remorse for the inconvenience of your whims?"

Gojo opened his mouth to respond, but you did not allow him the chance.

"How very noble of you, Lord Gojo," you continued, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "After all this time, to simply say, 'Forgive me; I shall now remove myself from your life,' as if that makes up for the chaos you’ve brought upon me? As if I am but a pawn to be moved at your discretion?"

His face softened slightly, as if he were seeing something in you he hadn't fully expected—a quiet resolve beneath your anger, a dignity that refused to be bruised. "No, Miss Itadori," he said quietly. "I do not wish to see you as a pawn. After all, from what I understand is that you do not know what you desire—and I would only be exploiting that. I only… I only wish to relieve you of the burdens I seem to bring."

You laughed, the sound bitter and laced with fury. "Know what I want? As if you do, dropping pretenses with commoners and putting on your mask for the ton. And relieve me? I don’t think you understand what it is you’ve done, Gojo."

This conversation was dangerous. The emotions you hid under the air of nonchalance were steadily bubbling up, and it seemed that now, your sentiments were threatening to boil over at the sheer audacity of Gojo breaking off this arrangement, of what the ton would think today if he were to be avoiding you like the plague.

He flinched at the sound of his name on your lips, spoken with such venom. A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he made no move to respond, simply watched as you gathered your thoughts, your gaze piercing.

"All this time," you said, each word sharper than the last, "I was led to believe there was something more to your attentions. And now, you simply wash your hands of it? You think yourself a gentleman for doing so?"

"Miss Itadori," he said, his voice strained. "I am—"

"You are a coward," you spat, and his eyes widened, the faintest hint of pain flashing in their depths. "Yes, that’s right. A coward, for trying to protect yourself under the guise of protecting me. All this talk of 'relieving me'—do not act as if your decision was made out of kindness." (a/n: OH NO SHE DIDNTTTTT)

"Do you not understand?" he interjected, a sudden fierceness in his voice, his composure beginning to slip. "This is not some petty whim, nor a game. My intentions… they were never meant to bring you harm, but they did. And I cannot bear to see it continue."

"Bear to see it continue?" you repeated incredulously. "Do you think I am some doll, some trifle to discard at your convenience?"

"That was never my intent!" he exclaimed, voice rising in frustration. "If you would but see reason—"

"Reason? From you?" you laughed bitterly, barely able to contain the fury welling up inside you. "Your idea of reason is nothing more than self-preservation, Lord Gojo. How convenient it must be to absolve yourself of guilt by deciding I am better off without you."

He fell silent, the anger in his face ebbing, replaced by a kind of desperation. "You do not understand," he said, quieter, almost pleading. "If I were to stay… if I were to court you in earnest, it would not be the life you think it to be."

"Then let that be my choice to make," you shot back, crossing your arms. "But no—this is not about my well-being, not truly. It is about you, Gojo. It has always been about you."

A tense silence stretched between you, filled only by the soft, uneven breaths that escaped both of you. For a moment, neither dared to speak, both caught in the tangled emotions that hung thick in the air.

Finally, Gojo looked down, his eyes shuttered, his voice weary. "Then hate me, if you must. But I am done with this charade."

"Hate you?" you repeated, the word tasting strange on your tongue. "No, Lord Gojo. Hatred would imply I care enough to feel anything toward you."

Your entire body seethed with fury, every muscle trembling with the strain of keeping yourself upright, sitting on your bed. You couldn't storm out—not with your wounded leg refusing to bear even a fraction of the anger swelling within you. Instead, you pushed yourself up on shaking arms, glaring at him with such venom that he instinctively stepped back.

"Get out," you spat, the words laced with ice, your voice rising as if to fill the entire room. "Out! Now, Gojo—leave me this instant!"

He froze, his shoulders tense as he looked at you with something unreadable, but he made no move toward the door.

"I said leave!" you shrieked—your voice shrill—the strain of it making you nearly lose balance, but you didn't care. Hot tears stung your eyes, and you bit them back, forcing yourself to breathe through the betrayal clawing at your chest. "Take your false apologies, your noble pretensions, and get out of my sight. Go, and never, ever darken my door again."

His mouth opened, as if he might say something—perhaps even something that might soothe the jagged edges of your heart. But your furious gaze dared him to try.

With a pained expression, he finally gave a nod, stepping back toward the door. He lingered for a moment, one last helpless look crossing his face before he turned away, leaving without another word.

The door clicked shut, and you were left alone, shaking with fury, your breath ragged. Your eyes were still on that door, your heart racing, as though expecting him to come back, to take it all back, to be the man you'd witnessed yesterday. But deep down, you knew he would not return.

The first glimmers of morning filtered through the heavy drapes as you stirred awake, still dazed from the events that had left you bedridden. The memories of Gojo’s departure settled heavily on your chest, like a stone dropped in a lake, rippling outward and disturbing any possibility of calm. Your mind drifted over the previous night’s argument, replaying words, and then, with a cringe, the heated moments where you felt every last ounce of self-restraint slip from your grasp.

A small part of you reasoned that you may have been rash—that your anger and hurt had overtaken good sense. After all, it was you who deemed your and Gojo’s match impossible. So why were you so hurt?

Before you could linger on these thoughts, there was a soft knock at your door. 

"Come in," you murmured, propping yourself up gingerly.

What followed soft footsteps was Choso, his gaze warm and steady as he entered, carrying the ease of familiarity that only he could. As he approached, he pulled a chair beside your bed and gave a faint smile.

Choso stepped in quietly, his face softened by a rare smile as he approached. “Awake at last,” he said gently, taking a seat beside you with the care one might afford a delicate flower. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep through the entire house party."

He reached out, his hand resting on the crown of your head, fingers slipping through your hair in a soothing rhythm. The fondness in his touch eased the last of the stiffness in your frame, a balm against the soreness both physical and emotional.

“You worry too much,” you muttered, allowing yourself to lean into the comfort he offered, your voice softening as his hand continued to gently scratch at your scalp.

“You look better today,” he said softly, continuing his familiar, soothing rhythm with his fingers. “Though, I’ll admit, you gave us all quite a scare.”

You managed a small smile, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly under his touch. “I suppose I was overdue for a bit of excitement,” you murmured, though the attempt at levity felt thin, even to your own ears.

Choso’s hand stilled momentarily, and his gaze grew searching as he looked at you. “What truly happened yesterday?” he asked, his voice low with concern. “There’s more here than an unfortunate fall, isn’t there?”

You stiffened slightly, glancing away from him. “It was nothing,” you replied, willing your tone to sound convincing. “Just… an ill-timed accident. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

But Choso was not so easily deterred. He watched you closely, his brow furrowing with worry. “You’ve always been a poor liar, sister,” he murmured. “If something happened, you know you can tell me. I only want to understand.”

The quiet earnestness in his tone gnawed at you, and for a moment, you considered confiding in him. But the idea of revisiting last night’s turmoil felt too raw, too immediate. “I’m fine, truly,” you insisted, meeting his gaze with as much steadiness as you could muster. “It was… nothing that can’t be mended with rest.”

Choso’s gaze lingered on you, his fingers resuming their gentle tracing along your scalp as if that alone could soothe whatever burden you were carrying. “Well,” he finally said, his tone filled with fond exasperation, “I won’t press you. But I trust you’ll speak of it when you feel you are ready.”

You gave a slight nod, grateful for his restraint. The quiet between you was comforting, grounding, as he continued his rhythmic motions, easing your thoughts in a way that words could not.

After a long moment, he broke the silence again, his tone lighter this time. “On a more cheerful note,” he began, a faint smile playing on his lips, “you’ll have another visitor tomorrow.”

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, though a part of you already guessed who he meant.

“Yes,” he confirmed, a knowing glint in his eye. “Sukuna received word of your injury and set off at once. He’ll be here by morning.”

You let out a small breath, a mixture of relief and trepidation filling you. “Tomorrow, then,” you repeated, feeling a hint of warmth at the thought. “It seems my brothers cannot resist making a fuss.”

Choso chuckled, squeezing your hand gently. “It’s what we’re here for. And perhaps Sukuna’s presence will help you feel a bit more at ease during the house party. He’ll see to it that no one bothers you unduly.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the thought of Sukuna’s reassuring, if overbearing, presence lifting your spirits slightly. “Well, at least there’s that to look forward to,” you murmured, and, with a soft sigh, leaned back against your pillows, letting Choso’s calming presence ease the lingering shadows of last night’s ordeal, even if temporary.

For you had a beast of a social gathering to deal with today, the same one where the ton would descend upon the outcome of your match, ready to laugh at you: the house party.

“He what?” 

You flinched, scowling as you clutched your ears. Nobara’s shrill voice was not helping your recovery, nor were her rough combs through your hair; but alas, beauty has a price, and it’s one you’re reluctantly willing to pay. You oh-so terribly wanted to politely decline the formal invitation, but it seemed that the moment you woke, your mother was dead set on getting you ready for what she thought was your engagement party. Little did she know that her not so future in law had gotten rid of you as if you were a stray animal latched onto him, but who were you to burst her bubble?

Perhaps you ought to dread the inevitable fallout from your mother when the truth emerged, but you consoled yourself with the thought of drowning your sorrows in champagne tonight, delaying her wrath for at least a little while. Besides, the prospect of Sukuna’s impending arrival tomorrow brought you some comfort; his unruly nature often served as a distraction from your own troubles.

You sighed heavily, meeting Nobara’s furious gaze in the mirror. “He merely said he wished to absolve me of any trouble he had caused.”

“Good riddance!” Nobara shrieked, her hand furiously waving around the hair brush in a way that made you wary, for it would not be pleasant for it to make contact with your already tender head.  “He was never the one for you to pursue, for he lacks the honor of a true gentleman! And yet—oh, heavens!” She gestured at you accusingly with the brush, her tone turning sharp. “Why, pray, do you appear so disheartened?”

You open your mouth immediately, indignant and expecting your wit, your usual ally, to conjure a response for you, only to be left open-mouthed when it came up short. Nobara seemed to sense your hesitance, opening her mouth to unleash yet another accusatory and reprimanding remark, but you quickly moved to fill your silence. “I suppose I am just…offended that he dare reject me, the diamond. The ton will seize upon this dissolution with glee. They shall revel in my supposed failure, for it will be indicative of my failure to the Queen.”

Nobara arched a brow, her skeptical silence speaking volumes. She clearly wasn’t convinced, and before she could level another charge against you, a knock sounded at the door.

“Sister, are you decent?”

“Enter, Choso,” you called out, hastily adjusting the neckline of your pale pink gown and straightening the strand of pearls around your neck.

Nobara opened the door, though she made no attempt to soften her posture. The hairbrush remained firmly in her grasp, poised like a weapon, and Choso cast it a wary glance as he stepped inside. His presence brought a sense of calm, even as his expression betrayed some inner turmoil. He hesitated for a moment before moving to sit at the edge of your vanity, his gaze flickering between you and Nobara.

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious of his silence. “Well, brother? Out with it,” you urged, though your voice lacked its usual sharpness.

He sighed, clearly reluctant. “Very well,” he began. “Pray, hear me out. You know I have never hidden my disapproval of Lord Gojo.” At the sound of that name, you flinched, though you quickly masked it with a curt nod. Choso continued nonetheless, his tone steady but earnest. “In light of recent events, I have taken it upon myself to form…a contingency plan of sorts.”

Your curiosity was piqued, though Nobara snapped at you to sit still as she continued combing through your hair. “Go on,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Choso leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering as though to ensure Nobara wouldn’t interrupt. “I have had the pleasure of conversing at length with Duke Nanami.”

You arched a brow, intrigued despite yourself. “The Duke Nanami?”

“Yes,” Choso confirmed. “He is an esteemed gentleman of considerable character, and, as fortune would have it, he is not currently pursuing anyone this season.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. Choso’s intent was clear, and the weight of his proposition settled over you like an unexpected storm. Nobara, meanwhile, had stilled entirely, her hairbrush forgotten in her hand as she turned to gawk at your brother.

“Is this,” she began, her voice disbelieving, “your solution to Gojo’s appalling behavior? To thrust her into the path of another?”

Choso shrugged, unbothered by her skepticism. “A better match by far, I would argue. The Duke has no such inclinations to trifling or dishonor.”

You sighed, leaning back as the tension in the room thickened. “And what makes you so certain the Duke would even entertain such an arrangement?” you asked, your voice tinged with a weariness you hadn’t intended to show.

Choso gave you a small smile, his hand reaching out to pat your shoulder. “Leave that to me, dear sister. For now, focus on enduring tonight’s ordeal. Tomorrow, you may take comfort in Sukuna’s arrival—and in the knowledge that your prospects are not as grim as they seem.”

You exhaled, unsure whether to feel gratitude or exasperation, as Choso rose from his seat. Whatever plans he had in motion, they would unfold in time. For now, you could only prepare yourself for the chaos that awaited.

Gojo had outdone himself. Truly, magnificently outdone himself.

From the moment you entered the house, your hand resting lightly on Choso’s arm, the stares began. They weren’t the polite glances reserved for new arrivals at such gatherings—these were sharp, lingering, and accompanied by a cacophony of whispers that only heightened your unease.

You straightened your back, chin held high, determined not to give any of them the satisfaction of seeing your discomfort. But it was impossible to ignore the way every eye seemed to follow you, every head turned to observe as you passed. Whatever it was that had stirred this interest, you were certain Gojo was at the heart of it.

Feeling the oppressive smog of stares, you knew where you could find solace: the drinks table, where you could down a flute of champagne alongside your stress. And right as you excuse yourself from Choso’s hold, who is now looking in the general direction of some men—particularly a gaggle of men that included Lord Geto and Duke Nanami, who were looking at something in the direction of the dance floor with interest. As you walk, you take in the scene: a beautiful chandelier, and red drapings and coverings embellished with gold, a bloody alternative to the Gojo icy blue. You’re not sure why today’s ensemble of colors didn’t include blue, but you believe it is fitting for what’s going to happen to you after this party is over and your mother finds out about the elephant in the room. 

And as you glance longingly at the couples gliding across the floor, their movements synchronized with the lilting strains of the orchestra, your breath catches.

It is then that you see him.

Gojo Satoru is spinning a girl across the dance floor, his coat tails trailing like ribbons in the air. His lips move as he speaks, the tilt of his head paired with that too-familiar smirk. His partner laughs at something he’s said, a soft sound that reaches you even from this distance. You could almost identify her—there is no debutante in the ton you have not cataloged, no rival whose dossier you do not possess—but tonight, it does not matter. She is just a blur of chiffon and curls, another face in a sea of women enthralled by him.

Your chest tightens as you take in the scene, a memory unspooling unbidden.

Is this what your first dance with Gojo had looked like to others? Did you appear as enraptured as this girl, your steps as confident and sure beneath his lead? You remember his light touch at your back, his questions whispered so quietly you doubted even the orchestra could eavesdrop, his eyes full of a charm so practiced it felt like a spell cast just for you.

And yet now, the spell is broken.

He is steering her—steering everything—with such ease that it almost makes you laugh. Were he not so infuriating, you might have admired his grace, the way he seamlessly dominates both the conversation and the dance. His amusement is evident in the quirk of his brow, the corners of his mouth curling with every word she utters, no doubt answering his questions with meek enthusiasm.

She is simple. You can tell from the way he looks at her, the way he pauses before replying as if translating his own thoughts into something digestible for her. The way she beams at him—unaware of how deeply he calculates every move—is almost endearing. Almost.

He is drawing the same conclusions he did of you. Simple, lacking substance. 

The thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

But then the girl laughs again, a little too loud, and Gojo’s expression flickers for just a second—long enough for you to notice. His smile tightens, his gaze sliding briefly across the room as though searching for something more stimulating. It is instinctual, this glance, and his head tilts in such a way that you know it will land on you if you linger a moment longer.

Your heart stutters in protest, your legs already moving.

Punch table. Right.

As you near it, you grab the closest drink and down it one sip, desperate for the cool of the liquid to calm both your throat and your heated mind, furious with thoughts and anxiety of those around you. And it was just as you begin to set down the cool glass that  in your periphery comes the man who soon tests your resolve.

“Miss Itadori,” a voice drawled behind you, the unmistakable lilt of smugness weaving through it.

You turned, and there stood Naoya Zen’in, his grin as unctuous as ever. He bowed slightly, though the gesture felt more like mockery than courtesy. “I must say, you are positively radiant tonight.”

You inclined your head ever so slightly, each movement deliberate. “Mr. Zen’in. How kind of you to say.”

He grinned, and the sight was unsettling, a serpent preparing to strike. “Radiant, yes. A pity Lord Gojo has finally come to his senses and moved on. I thought the two of you might actually prove interesting.”

Your stomach churned, but you kept your expression serene. “I fail to see how my affairs are of interest to you, Mr. Zen’in.”

“Oh, but they are,” he said, stepping closer, his voice lowering as though he were sharing a confidant’s secret. “Everyone is watching, you know. Wondering why Lord Gojo is…otherwise occupied tonight.” He tilted his head, motioning discreetly toward the mantle, a few meters away, where Gojo stood, entertaining and welcoming another lady.

Your eyes betrayed you, flicking briefly in that direction. Gojo’s figure remained in your periphery, still close enough to notice but far enough to be unattainable. You tore your gaze away, unwilling to feed Naoya’s glee.

Naoya leaned in, his tone growing more audacious. “Quite the spectacle, wouldn’t you agree? Though perhaps it’s for the best. You have much to offer, Miss Itadori—breeding hips, for one.”

The words hit you like a slap, your mind reeling in fury and disbelief. Your breath hitched, but before you could muster a scathing retort, something else caught your attention.

Gojo’s hand, resting casually against the column, tightened into a fist. The movement was subtle, but unmistakable—a barely contained tension that you might have missed if you weren’t already attuned to his every breath, his every twitch.

Still, you refused to look directly at him. Whatever he felt, it mattered not.

“Mr. Zen’in,” you began, voice icy and measured, though the rage burned beneath the surface, “your comments are as inappropriate as they are unwelcome. I suggest—”

“Sister.”

Choso’s voice interrupted like a lifeline thrown to a drowning sailor. You turned to see your older brother approaching, his expression calm but his eyes sharp as they darted between you and Naoya. He came to your side, his imposing presence creating an impenetrable wall between you and the unwelcome intruder.

“Mr. Zen’in,” Choso greeted with a curt nod, his tone laced with a warning. “I trust you’ll excuse my sister. She and I were just about to take a turn about the room.”

Naoya’s grin faltered, but he recovered quickly, stepping back with a mocking bow. “Of course. Do enjoy your evening.”

Choso wasted no time, offering his arm to you. You took it gratefully, your legs unsteady as he guided you away from the scene and toward a quieter corner of the ballroom.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his voice gentle but firm, as though bracing himself for a truth he might not like.

You nodded, though the words escaped you. Your hands trembled slightly, and Choso placed his over yours, steadying you. “I saw the way you looked,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “At Lord Gojo.”

Your breath caught, but you said nothing, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of your brother’s steps.

“Whatever he’s done—or hasn’t done—you are worth far more than his regard,” Choso continued, his tone resolute. “Do not forget that.” A pause. “Are you all right, Sister?”

“I am fine,” you lied, though your trembling hands betrayed you.

The evening only worsened from there.

More and more, you felt the weight of curious glances, the whispers growing louder as the night wore on. The absence of Gojo’s attention did not go unnoticed—least of all by your mother, who approached you and Choso with a determined expression, her fan snapping shut with a sharp flick of her wrist.

The warmth of the ballroom’s lights could not thaw the ice that slipped down your spine as your mother approached. Her movements were poised as ever, but the tightness in her lips and the fury barely hidden in her eyes told you everything. She stopped just short of you, her fan snapping shut with a sharp click that made you flinch.

“Explain,” she hissed, her voice low enough to avoid drawing the attention of onlookers but sharp enough to carve into you.

Your breath caught in your throat. You glanced towards Choso for reinforcement, but his furrowed brow and subtle shake of his head told you he would not intervene—not yet.

“I… don’t understand, Mother,” you murmured, though the words tasted hollow even as you said them.

“Do not toy with me, child,” she snapped, her tone still hushed but more cutting. “The entire room is whispering. Where is Lord Gojo? Why has he not so much as glanced in your direction tonight? Why is he—” Her eyes darted to the waltz floor, where Gojo had just excused himself from yet another partner. “Why is he dancing with others while you stand here like a forgotten debutante?”

The words hit like a slap, and you flinched again, your gaze falling to your gloved hands. You wanted to speak, to explain, but the lump in your throat grew larger with every second.

Her voice softened but grew no less fierce. “What have you done?”

Your chest tightened, and for a fleeting moment, you considered telling her everything—about the garden, about Gojo’s words, about how utterly humiliated you had felt. But then the heat of the ballroom pressed down on you, the glances from curious onlookers prickling your skin like needles.

You couldn’t. Not here.

So, you said nothing.

The silence between you stretched thin, your mother’s patience fraying with every passing moment. Finally, she straightened, her lips pressed into a pale line. “This is how you repay all that has been done for you?” she whispered, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “Do you even comprehend what this will do to your prospects? To this family? You have disgraced yourself, and worse—you have disgraced me.”

Her words left you hollow, the guilt settling into the spaces where indignation might have taken root. Still, you could not look up, nor could you summon any defense.

Your mother’s fan snapped open again with a sharp flick, the motion more violent than graceful. “We are leaving,” she declared, turning abruptly on her heel. “Now.”

Choso stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your elbow as if to steady you. You dared a glance at him, finding his gaze steady and quietly supportive. It was only his presence that kept your legs moving as you followed your mother toward the grand doors.

The weight of the room’s collective gaze bore down on you with every step. The music swelled in the background, mocking you with its cheerfulness. As you neared the exit, your feet faltered.

And then you saw him.

Gojo.

He stood near the edge of the dance floor, his posture uncharacteristically tense, his jaw clenched tightly, his usual easy confidence dimmed. His head tilted slightly, his eyes cutting through the crowd to meet yours.

Your breath hitched. In his gaze, you saw regret—yearning, even—and something else you couldn’t quite name.

But it didn’t matter.

You tore your eyes away, your jaw tightening as a steely resolve settled over you.

You would not break.

Not here. Not now. Not for him.

As you stepped into the cool night air, you drew in a deep breath, willing the ache in your chest to dissipate. Gojo Satoru had taken enough from you. Your heart, your dignity—no more.

If he thought you would crumble, he was mistaken.

He would regret this, you vowed silently.

And you would make certain of it.

The morning that came in a few days was no less disheartening than the night of the house party. The morning sun filtered weakly through the gauzy curtains of the drawing room, casting pale, lackluster patterns on the carpet. Even the sunlight seemed hesitant, as if it knew it had no place in the solemn atmosphere that hung over your family.

Even Yuji was solemn as you all sipped on your tea, the drawing room oddly quiet as you reflected in the aftermath of the past few days. The events of the house party still loomed over you. Your family’s hasty departure had been punctuated by the sight of your mother in whispered conversation with Duchess Gojo, their faces tight with the bitterness of dashed expectations. You had no doubt they had commiserated over your perceived recklessness and Gojo’s insolence, lamenting how the perfect match they had orchestrated had unraveled before their very eyes.

You had borne it all in silence.

But now, in the cold light of morning, your resolve felt brittle.

Your hands tightened around your teacup as you stared into the amber liquid, your reflection rippling with each shallow breath you took. Independence? That word felt hollow. You had fought for it, yes, but at what cost? The ton’s whispers had already begun. You could feel their weight pressing on you, suffocating in their judgment. The laughter and speculation at your expense would echo through parlors and ballrooms for weeks, if not months.

And yet, deep down, there was a spark of defiance. They thought this was your undoing. They thought you would crumble. But they had no idea.

"Why does it feel like we’re mourning?" Yuji muttered, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, but the sarcasm was unmistakable. "It’s not as though anyone has died."

Your mother’s sigh this time was louder, sharper, and followed by a pointed glance in his direction. “Yuji, do not jest,” she snapped. "This is no laughing matter."

Choso, who had been reclining with one arm draped lazily over the armrest of his chair, sat up straighter. “Mother,” he said cautiously, his voice soft but steady, “I think it’s time we address what’s truly troubling you.”

Her handkerchief stilled in her lap. For a moment, the room was silent again, the tension thick enough to choke on.

“Troubling me?” she repeated, her tone icy. “You think I am troubled, Choso?”

“Everyone is troubled,” Choso replied, his gaze flicking briefly to you. "But perhaps if you said what’s on your mind, we could all breathe a little easier."

Your mother’s lips thinned as she sat up straighter, her shoulders stiff. “Very well,” she said sharply, “if you must know, I am ashamed.”

The word hit you like a slap, even though you had expected it. You gritted your teeth, staring down at your tea to hide the flush of anger and embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“Ashamed of what?” you asked quietly, your voice tighter than you intended.

“Of you,” she replied without hesitation. “Of the scandal you have brought upon this family. Do you think your actions have no consequences? Do you think the ton will simply overlook your…” She hesitated, clearly searching for the most cutting word. “Your antics with Lord Gojo?”

You felt Choso stiffen beside you, his protective instincts clearly flaring, but you held up a hand to stop him. You wouldn’t hide behind your brothers—not this time.

“I have done nothing wrong,” you said, your voice low but firm. “Gojo and I made a mutual decision that we were incompatible. We—”

“You humiliated yourself!” she interrupted, her voice rising. “And by extension, this family. Do you think people are speaking of him? No! It is you they ridicule. It is your name they sully.”

Your chest burned with anger and hurt, but before you could retort, Yuji shifted uncomfortably, muttering, “This is getting out of hand…”

“You think I care about their opinions?” you snapped, finally lifting your gaze to meet your mother’s. “The ton has always been cruel. They would find a reason to gossip no matter what I did. I refuse to live my life pandering to their expectations—”

“And look where that refusal has left you,” your mother interrupted, her voice shaking with fury. “Unmarried. Ruined. Who will have you now?”

You flinched, the words cutting deeper than you thought possible. Your lips parted, but no words came out. What could you possibly say to that?

The silence that followed was deafening.

Until a voice, smooth and amused, broke it.

“Now, now, Mother. I know you’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, but let us not turn your theatrics onto our dearest sister.”

All heads turned toward the entrance, where a figure lounged against the doorway, his presence commanding without even trying. There he stood—Sukuna, your brother, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone who had kept you waiting for days. Both you and Yuji involuntarily gasped in excitement, while Choso only shook his head in amusement and crossed his arms.

He strode into the room with an air of nonchalance, his tailored attire immaculate, his smile one of mocking amusement. His gaze flicked to your mother, then to you, lingering for a moment as if to appraise the damage left in her wake.

“Good morning,” he said smoothly, the corners of his mouth curling. “I trust I’ve arrived in time to save you from a most tiresome sermon.”

Your mother bristled, but her voice faltered, her ire now redirected. “Sukuna, this is hardly the time for your irreverence—”

“And yet here I am,” he interrupted, dropping into a chair with the kind of ease that only Sukuna could muster. He leaned back, his sharp gaze softening just slightly as it fell on you. “I thought you might appreciate a reprieve. You seem to have had enough lectures for a lifetime.”

You could feel tears welling in your eyes. You had severely underestimated how much you missed your elder brother, seeing his presence stir a fondness and comfort you hadn’t felt ever since he left for Europe. And it seemed that your brothers shared your sentiment; Yuji was basically on his haunches, doing everything he could not to leave his chair to tackle Sukuna, and Choso barely holding in an amused smile. 

“Still causing chaos wherever you go, I see,” Choso said dryly, though there was no malice in his tone.

Sukuna smirked. “Someone has to keep things interesting.”

Your mother huffed, her lips pressing into a thin line as she rose from her seat. “I refuse to be made a fool in my own home. Sukuna, do try not to corrupt your siblings further while I attend to matters of actual importance.” She swept out of the room with her usual imperious grace, leaving a silence in her wake.

As soon as she left, you left your chair to basically jumping on him, hugging him tightly as he reciprocated your hug with wrapping his big arms around yours with equal fervor. “Kuna,” you whispered, burying your face into his chest as the tears started flowing. His presence surrounded you, offering you a comfort and familiarity that the eventful weeks, ever since your debut, hadn’t offered

Sukuna looked down to you with a raised brow as he patted your head affectionately. “Well, that was entertaining. Now, who’s going to tell me what truly happened while I was gone?”

prev. the fall | next. the rebound

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n hi everyone!!! so i lied and said the update wasn't gonna take as long #womaninmalefields BUT thank you for your patience <3

so uh....we are now gonna enter the arc with DRAMAA. there will be yearning, there will be angst, and soon after, there will be fluff. idk if anyone needs to hear this, but, again, this series will have a happy ending. if anyone is sad, don't worry. i'm going to make gojo grovel <3

SUKUNA IS BACK SUKUNA IS BACK what do we think?! spoiler alert this is what sukuna will wanna do to gojo after reader spills the tea

THANK U FOR READING!!! rest assured reader a BADDIE there will be some showing ankles and lowering bustlines to start our reputation era and infuriate gojo but u didnt hear that from me !!!

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

TAGLIST:

@ncitygreen @backstagepaige @serinatly100986 @nappingmoon @coochellati

@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

@hyori2 @babyblue0t7 @iwanttoberich420 @rosso-seta @ladytamayolover

@kalulakunundrum @r0ckst4rjk @mo0sin @angelina7890 @jaeminaur

@yamiyas @cherry-blossoms-in-red @r3inae @lagataprrr @sasfransisco

@fortunatelyfurrygiver @aurora-tiny @gojonegs @luna-v-roiya @xxemmarldxx

@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

[emotionoitme]

trouble

trouble - coldplay

part 3 of don’t call my name

warnings: angst, hurt + arguing but it’s steamy, drinking and clubbing, some violence (she gets grabbed and threatened but nothing happens), guard dog carmy bark bark, carmy throws hands & brief mention of blood. comfort sex, sappy and sweet but hot, it’s unprotected what else did you expect from me, dirty talk, some drama with claire i’m sorry 

wc: 9.0k

a/n: so…i told everyone this was going to be 3 parts when it actually needs 4. i fear i am just too much of a yapper. i love these two and think i needed to do the story justice. so stay tuned for ch4. hehehehe. hope u enjoy!!! (it is going to get angsty) 

playlist

carmen berzatto is a shitty communicator. 

this we know to be a fact. 

it’s just, sometimes when there are a thousand thoughts swarming around his head, it’s easier to not say anything at all. that makes sense, right? 

the girl wakes up the next morning to find herself alone. the plush king sized bed almost mocks her with emptiness.

she knows that carmy is a hard worker. a michelin star kitchen doesn’t just run itself. still, it might be nice to get a note, or text, or anything that would reassure her last night wasn’t just some fluke to to him. 

the silence of the apartment is almost deafening. she trudges down the stairs and walks to the kitchen, pouring herself what was left in the coffee pot from carmy’s early morning. 

she feels lethargic, sore, and a little stung from waking up alone. no text or anything, she thinks. 

but there was still time. maybe he was just really busy today. she pushes away the negative thoughts and slaps both of her cheeks lightly, trying to wake herself up. it would be a good day. he would text her or call her when he got a break. and they would talk about it. she puts a smile on her face at the delusion and hops back up the stairs to get dressed for work. 

the girl tries to busy herself when she gets there, picking up extra slack from coworkers and bustling around to finish projects. trying to not check her phone. 

she goes on lunch break with no text from him. 

gets off work at 5 with no text from him. 

throws his sheets in the wash and remakes his bed with no text from him. 

eats dinner with no text from him. 

watches a movie at 9:30 with, you guessed it. 

she throws her phone back onto the bed angrily, the false wall of positivity built in her mind beginning to crumble. she’s tired and annoyed, so she shuts off the movie and buries herself in bed, trying to push thoughts of him out of mind so she could sleep. 

she tells herself that they can talk tomorrow. but then, tomorrow comes and it’s the same nothing, almost like she didn’t even have a roommate. 

three silent days go by until the girl decides she’s had enough, and plans to wait up for him and have a talk. maybe he just wasn’t a texting type of guy, she tries to comfort herself. 

she grabs her book and a throw blanket and camps out on the couch, waiting for him to get home. 

it’s close to midnight before she hears keys jingling and the lock turning. her heart drops inexplicably but she remains nonchalant and continues reading her book until she hears him take a few steps inside. 

she turns her head, watching him talk on the phone as he slides his shoes off. he doesn’t notice her in the dim light of the living room, and his brows are furrowed, hand running through his messy curls. 

“yeah. yeah, i’m- i know….sorry again,” a pause, “okay. i’ll see you saturday. bye, claire.” 

her eyebrows shoot up at the name, the sinking feeling with in her stomach increasing tenfold. this motherfucker. 

carmen makes it halfway into the living room before he notices her on the couch, slightly startling at her presence, mumbling a ���shit”

her face feels hot, but not in the good way she had grown accustomed to the past few weeks. 

“hey,” he greets softly, eyes looking tired, shoulders slumped. 

she just glares at him and goes back to reading her book. 

he says her name. she ignores him.

the man lets out a small scoff, stepping closer to the couch, hand on his hip. 

“what, you, uh, ignoring me?” 

she glances up at him and there’s a small smirk on his face, like he thinks it’s joke or something. 

she opens her mouth to say something mean, but stops herself. takes a deep breath. recenters. 

she slams her book shut and turns to face him. 

“i’m going to bed.” 

the man’s small smirk drops, watching as she shoots up from the couch and starts heading towards the stairs. he grabs her wrist to stop her. 

“hey,” he says, firmer this time. 

she whips around and pulls her arm back. 

“what?” she snaps. 

his brows furrow at her tone of voice. he pauses for a second, eyes raking down her face, taking in her expression. 

“why are you acting like that?” he asks. 

the question does nothing but make her feel angrier. 

“because you’re being fucking confusing,” the girl exclaims, her throat growing tight.

“how am i confusing?” carmen replies with a surge of annoyance, “you woke me up the other night with…” his eyes dart down her frame, “half your fuckin’ clothes on.” he tries to sound angry, but his voice betrays him a bit. truthfully, it was like his prayers had come true when he opened his eyes to find her straddling him in underwear and a tiny little top that barely kept her chest contained. 

“yeah cause i thought you were into me,” she frustratedly sighs, “but you’re just…using me to get over claire.” 

the allegation wasn’t rooted in fact. but that’s how the girl felt, and she confuses the two in the moment. 

“don’t say that.” he snaps, “that’s not fuckin’ true in the slightest.” carmen had been done with claire for months at this point. if anything, he had been trying to use claire to get over his roommate.

“it’s been three days since we-… and you haven’t said anything,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead, feeling a headache come on. 

he knows his, and feels guiltier than she could even imagine. but he also knows she’s leaving in a few short weeks, and doesn’t want to fall any deeper than he already has for her. 

“i got busy at work.” he defends. it’s a shitty excuse, but as usual, it’s the first to come to mind. 

her eyes brows crease further. 

“you have a phone.” she chides.

“i just…i didn’t think about it,” he lies, “i’m sorry.”

she scoffs and shakes her head. 

“god, you’re so-,” another sigh, “you know, whatever, carm.” she turns from him and begins to walk up the stairs. 

he hates how his eyes glance down to her ass, peaking out from beneath a pair of short shorts. 

god he’s a fucking loser, he tells himself. 

carmy calls her name again. she ignores him. 

-

the girl slams her bedroom door behind her and throws herself onto her bed. she tries to fight the hot, angry tears that stream down her face, telling herself it doesn’t really bother her. telling herself that he’s just another stupid guy, and she can find better. this does nothing to ease the burning feeling in her chest, though, a pair of soft blue eyes flashing in her mind. thinking of the way he was rough with her while still being gentle, kissing her face and calling her sweet names. thinking of how he held her and wiped her tears and assured her that things would work out. 

fucking asshole! 

she grabs her duvet and pulls it over her head, wrapping herself tightly and burrowing into the pillow. she tells herself that she won’t make the mistake of giving into him again. wouldn’t ever grace him with her lips or fingers or sweet moans again. 

she tells herself that she doesn’t need him. she could easily find someone else that would satisfy that same feral craving she had for carmen. 

in fact, tomorrow would be friday, and she hadn’t gone out in a long time. she decides on calling up a friend and making a friday night plan to go out. drink, dance, and prove to herself that there’s better for her out there than carmy. 

the girl aggressively rubs her face of tears and shoots up out of bed, grabbing her phone to send the invitation to a girlfriend. her phone pings with a quick response, and the girl confirms her plan for the following night, already envisioning what to wear. the thought of seeing carmy tomorrow night before she goes out makes her stomach churn. the thought of seeing him at all makes it churn, actually. 

she tells herself that she only has to stick it out for another month or so. then she would go back to california and things would be normal. no more stupid boys. no more heated touches. no more whimpers being greedily devoured by hungry kisses. 

she tells herself that’s what she wants. 

it doesn’t feel genuine in the slightest. 

the following morning she rummages through her closet and picks out a couple of skimpy options. she studies herself in the mirror, holding up the various items up in front of her nude body, wondering what carmy would think of the outfits. she quickly tries to push the thought out of mind. she doesn’t care what he thinks, she reminds herself. her eyes fixate on the finger-shaped bruises scattered about her hips. she thinks of how they got there. 

her day at work seems to go impossibly slow. the girl finds herself thinking of carmen constantly, caught between hoping there would be a text from him when she would check her phone and hoping she would never hear from him again. 

her mind frequently flashes to the way he handled her a few nights ago. how he kissed her obsessively. how he held her up once her legs had given out. how he relentlessly plowed into her and called her a pretty girl and told her she was made for him. 

the thought simultaneously makes her horny and angry, something that she had never experienced so vividly until now. she wanted to slap his face, but at the same time she wanted to kiss him and grind against him and beg for him again. 

it’s entirely confusing. 

by the time 10 o clock rolls around, she begins to get ready, meticulously styling her hair and applying her makeup. she opts for a sultry, smokey look, accentuating her eyes with dark shadow and liner, glossing her pouty lips with a clear lacquer. the girl tries to hurry the routine, anxious to make it out the door before carmen gets back. 

she strips her clothes off and slips into her club apparel, then decorates her look with rings, bracelets, earrings, and a necklace. as she slides her thigh high boots on, she hears the front door open, then slam closed.

“fuck,” she harshly exhales. looks like she would have to see him after all. 

carmy racks his keys onto the hook and steps out of his shoes, taking a deep breath at the relief of being home. it’s not until he notices the light coming from upstairs that the relief is replaced with a sense of anxiety. 

he knows he needs to fix things between him and his roommate, if he could even refer to her as just that anymore. he had felt like a jackass all week, but apologies were never really his strong suit. he didn’t even know where to start. 

the man empties his pockets out onto the credenza, then begins to make his way into the living room. he stops in his tracks when he hears the click of heels descending the stairs. 

as he turns his head and catches sight of her, he fights to stifle a groan. 

she comes down clad in a tight top and mini skirt, length of her legs emphasized by black thigh high boots. his eyes rake down her body, admiring the curve of her figure and the appealing fit of the clothes. he wishes that she would dress like that all the time, but he doesn’t tell her that, instead just opting for a casual, albeit slightly strained “hey.”

she looks at him, but doesn’t reply, instead sauntering over to their bar cart and pouring herself a shot. he realizes the top is backless, and clenches his jaw a bit, trying to recenter with a deep breath. 

“you, uh…you look nice,” he clears his throat. 

she throws back the shot and shivers. 

“thanks,” her response comes dryly, walking over to grab her purse, “i’ll be back in a few hours.”

carmen feels his brain stutter, processing what she said, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“wait you, uh, you’re going out dressed like that?” he can’t help but feel a bit protective, even if she is pissed off at him. the girl scoffs. 

“i can’t really go to the club in sweatpants, carm.” 

he rubs a hand over his face, trying to keep calm. 

“you could, uh….at least put a fuckin’ jacket on or something though?” he tries to suggest kindly. his tone betrays him. 

“yeah?” she turns towards him, “why the fuck do you care?” bite in her tone. 

his eyes fall over the multiple hickeys that litter her neck, then flicker over her face, realizing how striking her features look accentuated by dark makeup. she looks angry. a little hurt. he wants to say something soothing. 

“cause i-fuck,” hand threading through his hair messily, “because i know how guys think.” 

nice. real soothing. 

“yeah? n’what do they think?” she challenges. 

that anyone would want you. that you look fucking hot wearing those tight little clothes.

carmy opts to not respond so directly, and walks closer to her. 

“i just don’t want you to get… hurt.” his tone is firm, jaw set tightly. she lets out a sardonic laugh at this. at the fact that he’s her biggest source of hurt at the moment.

“what, you think it’s funny?” he barks, “you could get fuckin’…picked up or drugged or something.” 

she rolls her eyes. 

“that’s not gonna happen. i’m going with a friend.” she snatches her purse off the credenza, fumbling through it to make sure she has her id. he takes a few steps closer. until he can smell her sweet perfume. 

“well, let me drive you guys then.” 

she shakes her head. 

“no. we’re getting a cab.” zipping up her purse and hanging it over her shoulder. 

“fuck, then call me when you get there. and when you’re leaving.” he snaps a bit, becoming a bit fed up with her attitude. 

“not gonna fuckin’ call you, carmy,” her face scrunches up in anger, “i’ll probably end up going home with someone, anyways,” she fibs, locking eyes with him, unintentionally leaning in a bit. 

“you what?” he angers, moving even closer to her, their faces mere inches apart. 

she can feel the shot she took now, eyes darting down to his lips. fuck his deodorant. the smell of it makes her want to give in.

“‘mgonna find someone tonight,” her tone lower now, lids low, “‘n they’re gonna fuck me better than you ever will.” 

he scoffs, blood boiling at her words, shaking his head, eyebrow twitching. 

“yeah, uh, that’s not gonna fuckin’ happen.” his hand comes to wrap around her hip, squeezing. his face comes closer, lips nearly ghosting hers.

“yeah?” she challenges, actively fighting to keep from diving in, eyes locked on his lips.

“yeah,” tone firm, “tell your friend you’re staying in tonight.” 

she doesn’t know why she feels so turned on. still pissed off, yes, but mostly aroused. 

she rolls her eyes and lets out a laugh to hide this, but he can tell. he can always tell by the slight flutter of her eyelids and the way she’ll part her lips. he knows that she likes when he talks to her like that. 

the girl channels all of her strength and steps away from him, opening the front door. 

“see you tomorrow,” she chimes, walking out. he calls her name as she walks away, but she ignores him. he tells himself he’s too proud to chase after her, but really he wants to do nothing more. 

as she makes her way down the hall, his eyes rake down her exposed back, settling on her shapely ass. 

this girl was going to drive him fucking crazy. 

-

carmy berzatto (2hrs): you make it there? 

missed call from carmy berzatto (1hr)

carmy berzatto (30min): call me if you need a ride home. 

the girl shuts off her phone, shoving it back in her purse and strutting to the bar counter. sure, now he cared enough to send a text. 

jealous motherfucker. 

it had been a girls night out until her friend went home with an ex boyfriend, leaving her all alone at the club. she leans over the counter, pushing her hair over her shoulder. her feet are sore from the boots she had picked out, coupled with an hour or so of nonstop dancing. 

the girl had planned to leave as soon as her friend did, but made the mistake of passing through the main room where they were playing 2000s music. she couldn’t just not dance to 2000s. 

the bartender works quickly to accommodate the numerous orders. she feels the drink she had been sipping on affecting her, comfortably bathing in the multicolored lights of the club. it was packed with people, and she had been noticing eyes on her all night. 

the girl feels a hand on her lower back, and she turns to meet the eyes of a tall man.

“hi,” he says.

“hey,” she softly replies.

he was admittedly handsome, and his muscular stature didn’t hurt to look at either. 

“can i buy you a drink?” the man asks. 

the girl softly smiles and nods. he raises his hand to flag the bartender. she was planning on getting a water, but since she wasn’t paying for it…

the stranger makes small talk with her, the two having to practically yell into each other���s ear to hear over the bass of the music. jobs, what part of town they live, compliments. not that she really cares about any of it, though she tries to. 

as he leans in to ask if she’ll dance with him, he places his hand on her waist. she tries to ignore how it doesn’t feel right. 

he’s cute, she tells herself, and i needs to stop thinking about carmy. 

the girl takes a long sip of her drink and nods softly, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor. they squeeze through the crowd of bodies, and she turns to face him, hand on his chest. he places a hand on her lower back, and they begin to move to the beat. she takes another long sip of her drink, closing her eyes, coming closer to the man, swaying her hips. his deodorant doesn’t smell as good as carmen’s does. doesn’t comfort her like his does. 

she takes another sip, and she circles around, moving her hips, facing away from the man. the music resonates through the whole building, lights flash and change color, making her movements feel dreamlike. he places his hands on her hips. 

she wishes that she liked how it felt. 

the man presses his hips into her backside. she imagines it’s carmen, and the thought makes her bite down onto her lip. her head falls back against his chest. she thinks of her roommate’s strong arms. his tattoos. the way his face scrunched up when he fully engulfed himself in her. the girl lets out a breath. her skin feels hot and sticky in the muggy club air. she takes another long sip of alcohol, feeling lips on her neck. they feel strange and unfamiliar. it doesn’t set off that tingling sensation in her lower stomach. she groans out of frustration. 

“mmm you like that don’t you, pretty girl?” the man slurs into her ear. 

the name makes her heart drop, and all of the sudden she feels like she needs to throw up. she shoves the stranger’s hands away and stumbles forward, pushing her way out of the crowd. the floor feels like it’s tilting on an axis as she cringes at the feeling of other sweaty bodies touching her. she gets shoved into by a big group and loses her drink. 

it’s suddenly hard to breathe. the girl feels her throat tighten, her chest burning, wiping hot tears away. she fights and pushes and weaves through the crowd until she finally breaks free, making a beeline for the glowing red exit sign. the girl shoves the door open, almost tripping over the frame, and stumbles out into the cold night. 

the frigid air helps alleviate some of her nausea, skin rising in goosebumps. she trudges along the brick wall and leans her back against it, focusing on taking deep breaths. her hands run through her messy hair, pushing it out of her face, closing her eyes, trying to stop the steady flow of tears. 

this night was supposed to be fun, but all she wanted to do was go home and sleep this booze off. all she wanted was carmen. 

her hands fumble through her purse, grabbing her phone. she drops it, muttering a “shit,” and crouches down to pick it up. she squints her eyes at the light of the display, struggling to navigate to the uber app. she enters her address, cursing internally when she sees the friday night surge prices. instead, she exits uber and finds her contacts, hovering over the number of a cab company. her eyes glance towards carmen's contact, right below. 

she doesn’t want to call him. he was being an asshole, and she hates how easily he was able to get under her skin. so she dials the contact for the cab, listening to the line ring. and ring. and ring. almost infinitely, then a automated voice of “your call cannot be completed.” 

“fuck,” she curses, terminating the call. 

her eyes fixate on his name, pausing and contemplating. 

she rolls her eyes and dials it. the line rings twice and gets picked up with a raspy greeting and a “y’okay?” 

she stays silent for a second, not sure what to say. he says her name. 

“did you know that you are-” she hiccups, “s-so mean?” it’s the only thing that comes to mind. 

“are you drunk?” he asks.

“no. m’not” she argues, wiping a stray tear. 

“you sound drunk,” he retorts, “where are you? i’m coming to get you.” 

“you’re so fucking…rude. ‘nyou think you can just do whatever you want because you’re so-” hiccup, “hot… and big…you irritate me, carm,” she slurs into the line. she opens her mouth to say more, but he cuts her off by saying her name sternly. 

“you at prysm? tunnel?” 

“yeah. that one.” she hiccups again. 

“tunnel? okay, stay right there. i’m getting in my car now.” 

“ok but i’m still mad at you,” she murmurs, leaning against the cool brick. he scoffs, and starts saying something about her bad attitude, but she cuts him off by hanging up, harshly exhaling and closing her eyes tightly. the tears continue falling, so she just tries to focus on her breathing. 

a cool breeze causes her to stiffen, wrapping her arms around herself, shivering. it’s uncomfortable, but grounding. her head stops spinning so much as she begins to breathe deeply. the tears come to a steady stop, but the aching in her chest doesn’t. she wishes carmen would hold her and kiss her head. 

around fifteen minutes pass before she hears the back door of the club open. the girl keeps her eyes shut, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t bother her. though it seems she’s not so lucky tonight, unfortunately. 

“hey, you,” a deep voice says. she snaps her eyes open to find the same tall man she was dancing with earlier standing in front of her. 

she just stares at him silently, crossing her arms in front of her to help provide some modesty. 

“listen, i think we get along well. and you’re really hot,” he explains drunkenly, “why don’t i help you get home?” 

she feels icked out, trying to refrain from rolling her eyes.

“m’not interested, sorry. i have someone coming to pick me up.” 

the man scoffs. 

“you were plenty interested earlier when i bought you a drink,” taking a step closer to her, “c’mon. don’t be a tease.” he has a smirk on his face. she feels her heart begin to pound against her chest. 

carmy was right, it was a mistake to come out. she tries to take a step away from him, blocked by the hard brick wall. 

“seriously, i’m not interested,” she tries to sound assertive, “my boyfriend will be here any second so just leave me alone.” she hopes he can’t read through her lie. 

“your boyfriend?” he asks, smirk turning into a grin, “you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? someone should fucking straighten you out.”

her heart drops to her stomach, and she feels sick all over again. she steps forward to shove past him, and he grabs her waist, slamming her back into the wall. 

“don’t fucking touch me!” she yells, grabbing his wrists and digging her nails in. he doesn’t let go. tears begin to stream down her face, heart hammering against her ribcage. she sees headlights from down the street and prays that it’s carmen, continuing to struggle against the man. 

the car speeds up to the curb and jerks to a stop, door flying open. she shuts her eyes tightly and digs her nails in hard enough to draw blood, giving a final attempt at trying to get his hands off of her. 

the girl is suddenly released as the man is jerked backwards by his shoulder. her eyes snap open and graciously land on the person she’s been wanting to see the most. 

everything happens so fast—watching in a haze as carmen practically decks the guy in the face, sending the stranger stumbling back, gripping a bloody nose. 

“you muverfuckr!” he slurs, words muffled by a dripping hand, lunging forward again. carmy shuffles back, then throws another jab square in the face. the man falls backwards onto the ground, sitting on the concrete, looking entirely disoriented. the girl gasps, feeling partially sobered by the scene. 

she watches as the stranger’s blood drips onto the pavement, then darts her gaze over to carmen. his eyes look crazed, jaw tightly locked. he begins to stalk towards the man, clenching his fists that were spotted with red. 

the girl reaches out and grabs his arm. he turns to look at her and his features immediately soften, taking in her tear-soaked cheeks and swollen lips. without thinking, he grabs her arm and pulls her into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around her in a protective bear hug. she clings to his shirt, and cries. he kisses the top of her head. 

he smells so good. smells so safe. 

“s’okay. i got you,” he soothes, “you’re okay.” the man says this as a reassurance to himself as well, rubbing her back, feeling his throat tighten and eyes water a bit. 

the stranger lay flat on his back now, clutching his bleeding nose, mumbling incoherently. 

carmen pulls back from the embrace, but keeps an arm wrapped tightly around her, ushering her to the car. she stumbles a bit, holding onto him securely. she wishes the tears would stop, but they don’t. she feels so scared. so relieved. so fucking grateful. 

he gets her into the car, shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side. she doesn’t want to look at him when he gets in, so she hides her face in her hand, elbow leaning on the arm rest. he doesn’t say anything for the duration of the drive home either. 

she feels embarrassed, tired, and still a little mad at carmy. the whole reason she had wanted to go out and meet guys in the first place was because of his stupid situationship with claire. it was like it made her go into defense mode. 

they had been driving for about 5 minutes, before she feels a dull throbbing in her head, stomach growling, alcohol in her system making her crave greasy nasty salty food. 

she raises her head from her hand, looking at carmen. his eyebrows were knit together tightly, jaw clenched. she leans her head against the headrest as she stares at him lovingly. she loves how protective he gets over her. how strong he is. how blindingly handsome. 

but she’s still mad, of course. 

he catches her gazing at him in his periphery. he looks over, features softening as he catches her eyes momentarily.

“what’s up?” he asks, voice low.

she just looks at him. her lip pouts a bit. 

“you hungry?” comes his question, perfectly timed. 

she allows a soft smile to grace her lips at the accuracy of his guess. 

“mmhm,” she nods, “a burger sounds really good right now. and french fries.” 

he lets out a quiet chuckle, nodding his head, glancing at her again. 

“let’s get you a burger and french fries, then.” 

he turns his signal on and moves to make a quick left, pulling into a drive-thru after a few minutes.

they sit in line waiting for the order to be cooked. she glances over at his face. she wants to kiss him, a little. 

“d’yknow what the ultimate hangover food is?” she asks softly. 

he turns to face her, eyebrows raised in question, a look of amusement on his face. 

“an all american breakfast,” she murmurs with a smile.

“yeah?” he asks, “like…pancakes?”

she nods, biting her lip with a smile. he lets out a soft laugh at this.

“and bacon and eggs. and hash browns. fuck,” her eyes are closed, like she’s imagining it in front of her. this makes the man laugh a bit harder, hand coming to smooth over his face. 

“good answer,” he tells her once he stops smiling as much. 

“what’s yours?” she asks, gazing at him a bit longingly. 

“my what?” 

“your hangover cure food.”

“uh, probably…saltines?”. 

the girl lets out a laugh. 

“the alcohol upsets my stomach,” he admits. 

she laughs harder, burying her face in her hands. 

“you are so cute,” she amuses. 

he fights the heat that rushes to his face when she says this, and they pull forward to the pick up window. 

the girl takes her first bite into the greasy burger that carmen insists on paying for, and it makes her feel more human than she has all night. 

-

carmy parks the car in his assigned lot, then gets out to assist his roommate out of the car. the food helped her feel much more grounded, but she still has to cling onto his arm to be able to walk straight through the building. 

neither of them say anything. this lasts until they get back to their unit, and carmy locks the door behind them. he watches as the girl stumbles out of her shoes and crashes onto the couch. she throws an arm over her eyes and tries to push away the nausea that comes with laying down. 

“thank you,” she murmurs into her arm after a moment.

“mhm,” he responds, “told you to call me when you needed a ride, though,” shrugging off his jacket.

“i did,” she argues.

“no, you called me… way after you needed one. and you stood outside waiting for me,” his tone grows harsher.

if she wasn’t so nauseous, she’d roll her eyes. 

“i was trying to get away from all the guys that were trying to take me home,” she retorts. she means it to be teasing, but it’s clear he doesn’t take it that way by the peak she steals through her arms. 

“y’know, you-,” he scoffs, “i’m glad you think it’s fuckin’ funny because i-fuck…i was worried about you” he throws his keys onto the table, feeling angry, feeling scared. 

she throws her other arm over her face. her cheeks are hot with embarrassment. her throat suddenly feels tight at his words, like she’s going to cry again. she doesn’t say anything out of fear of her voice breaking. 

carmy chides her name, stalking over to the couch. he stands over her, expectantly waiting for a response, jaw clenching with annoyance. he nudges her arm. she moves it, revealing her tired bloodshot eyes. 

“can we not do this tonight?” she begs hoarsely, “m’so drunk.” 

“you fucking scared me,” he exclaims, grabbing his hair, “what would’ve happened if i didn’t get there in time, huh?” 

“i know,” she sobs, tears now freely flowing, hiding her face in her arms again. 

his heart breaks a bit, watching her cry like that. but he feels so angry that she put herself at risk like that. 

“you-” he stops. takes a deep breath to recenter. “you’re right. let’s not do this tonight.” 

she peaks at him through her arms, feeling completely pathetic. she watches him turn on the small lamp by the couch. he drapes a throw blanket over her before turning to walk upstairs. 

tears continue inexplicably trailing down her cheeks, as her deep breathing begins to lul her into sleep. 

an hour passes. 

she shifts to try and get comfy to no avail. 

30 more minutes. 

everything was so uncomfortable. 

she sits up quickly and shoots off the couch, beelining for the stairs, desperate to get the crunchy makeup and scratchy clothes off. 

she falls up the stairs in her sleepy scramble, knocking against the wall loudly. slowly stands up, holds onto the rail, and exhales before continuing to ascend much more carefully. 

as she walks down the hallway, she unashamedly begins to strip out of her clothing, leaving a trail that leads to the bathroom, telling herself she would take care of it later. she feels sick and lethargic, needing a shower immediately. 

the girl leaves the bathroom light off as she draws a cold shower and steps in right away, drenching herself in the frigid water. she tenses, letting out a sharp exhale, feeling almost immediately soothed. 

it’s as if the water washes away everything bad from the night. she meditatively goes through her routine, cleaning herself. cleaning away everything that happened tonight. cleaning away the man who touched her on the dancefloor, outside of the club. 

the shame and embarrassment that begins to seep in as the alcohol wears off doesn’t wash away as easily. she needs to apologize, she knows that.

the girl dries herself off and wraps her hair in a towel as she walks back to her room, feeling more of a pep in her step following the refreshing shower. she bends down to pick up the strung out clothing she left behind, feeling like she was going crazy because her underwear was nowhere to be found. it would just have to wait until tomorrow, she supposes. 

she’s moisturized and laying in bed, trying to fall asleep. tossing and turning. taking a deep breath. softening her face, muscles. thinking of nice things.

drifting off. mind flashing back to the man grabbing her and slamming her against the brick wall. thinking of what would’ve happened had carmy not come to her rescue. 

her eyes snap open. she sharply inhales and sits up, hanging her legs over the side of the bed. it was going to be impossible to get sleep like this, heart beating way too fast to try and relax. 

she just wants to feel safe. 

without a second thought, she stands and begins walking to carmy’s room. 

she knows he’s pissed off at her. knows he’ll probably tell her to get out. even so, she’s so desperate to get some sleep. so desperate to ease the anxiety that had been festering inside of her all night. 

his door is closed, and she hesitates for a moment before twisting the knob and slipping inside. 

it’s dark—the curtains drawn when they usually aren’t. he lay shirtless on his side, facing away from the door, clutching a pillow in his arms. 

the girl peels back his sheets and slowly slips into bed, resting her head on the soft pillow. she stays there for a moment before scooting closer and laying her face against his back. he’s so warm, and his skin smells safe. her eyes fall shut. she feels him shift. 

carmen wakes up unexpectedly to the feeling of warmth behind him. he knows it’s her without having to look. when she had noisily stumbled upstairs and into the shower, he went to go check on her—almost knocked on the bathroom door, but refrained once he heard soft cries from within. 

he feels her face nuzzle into his back, and he reaches his arm back behind him, wanting to feel where she lay. he touches her hip.

“hi,” she greets softly. 

“hey,” he returns, voice raspy, “y’can’t sleep?” 

she scoots closer to him, hand splaying over his back. 

“just a little… freaked out still…” she whispers. her tone wobbles. 

he shifts at this, and turns around to face her silently. in the low light she can make out the worried furrow of his brows.

she feels guilty for being the subject of his worry. 

“i’m sorry,” the girl confesses, biting back tears. 

carmen’s brows crease further at her apology, immediately wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his chest. she tucks her face into his neck, shutting her eyes tightly, smelling his skin. 

“y’got nothing to be sorry for,” he plants a kiss atop her head, “wasn’t your fault.” 

“it was my fault,” her voice breaks, “should’ve listened to you,” her arms come around his neck, and she presses her body flush with his. 

“it wasn’t,” he asserts, “that guy was a fuckin’ creep.” his tone is hushed. his arms wrap around her as if he’s scared of losing her. 

“are you still mad at me?” she asks. her breath tickles his neck. 

“i wasn’t mad,” he admits, “just scared.” 

“me too,” matching his hushed tone. “thank you carm,” she whispers, pressing a kiss below his ear, “feel so safe with you.” she shuffles closer, pelvis pressing against his. 

“you are,” he buries his nose in her hair, “always.” hiking her leg over his hip to bring her closer. 

the girl kisses his neck again. and again. pulls him in closer. his smell is completely addicting, and with the angle of her leg she can feel his erection growing against her core. she hopes he can’t feel the wetness that begins to form beneath her shorts. 

his big palm spreads over her ass and squeezes, desperate to hold every inch of her. 

the girl deeply exhales, bothered by how easily he’s able to rouse her. 

the man harshly exhales at the repeated feeling of her bites and licks and kisses, holding onto her with an urgent desperation. trying to wrap around her as if he were keeping her from the world. 

the room becomes hot, and the two shuffle the duvet off. 

carmen calls her name, trying to break her attention. he wants to apologize. wants to confess his shortcomings. wants to look in her big eyes and tell her he’s not enough and never will be. but she ignores his beckon and continues enthusiastically biting and sucking and kissing, hand pressing against his chest. 

he forces his eyes to stay open, weight of his bottled apology heavy on his tongue. 

“hey,” he tries again, voice strained from the pleasure.

“can you put it in?” she breathes into his neck.

“fuck,” he groans, surprised by her forward request, feeling himself pulse against her wetness. 

“please,” she whines, hiking her leg further up onto his hip, trailing her kisses along his jaw, up to his cheek.

he squeezes her ass again, fingers slipping under the fabric of her tiny shorts. her skin was so soft. so hot with arousal. 

“let me play with you,” he strains, “get you ready f’me.”

the girl makes a sound of protest, kissing his face more, hand coming to his neck. 

“m’ready,” she whispers earnestly “wanna feel you so bad,” another kiss, “please, carm.”

he lets out a strained breath and removes his hand from her ass, shoving his boxers down just enough to free his erection. she moves her thigh higher up his hip, and carmen slips his fingers beneath the fabric covering her core, hastily pulling it to the side.

“yeah,” she exhales desperately, edge of her lips touching his, trying to watch him press his cock into her opening. 

carmen pushes forward, sinking into her tightness. he lets out a groan at the way her wet heat engulfs him. the girl releases a sound of appreciation, her nails indenting the skin of his shoulder. 

he takes a deep breath and begins slowly rocking his hips, turning his face to catch her lips in a hungry kiss. he greedily swallows her sweet noises, catching the edge of her shirt and bunching it up over her chest, exposing her breasts.

“please,” she breaks the kiss to plead, not really even knowing what she was asking for. 

“i know, baby” he groans in between kisses, “gonna take care of you.” rolling his hips, hiking her leg further up his hip to bury himself to the hilt. 

she wants to cry at how good it feels, eyes scrunched shut and mouth falling open in pleasure, releasing her first breathy moan. 

carmy swears he could cum at the sound of it, hand grabbing her ass again, pulling her impossibly closer. his forehead comes to hers and he begins slowly thrusting into her, completely drunk off of her. her smell, her wetness, her whimpers. 

“y’so fuckin’ cute,” he growls, “can’t get enough of you.” his admission sends a fluttering sensation throughout her chest, arching further into his touch, beginning to hungrily rock her hips to try and match his thrusts. 

the man grabs her hip, holding her still. 

“slow down,” he commands softly, catching her lips in a deep kiss, continuing to gently thrust into her. 

she complies, savoring the sweet, lazy rocking motion as he holds her tightly. it feels far more intimate than what she’s ever experienced with him, even though the two weren’t even fully naked. it was needy and frenetic, yet slow and gentle. 

carmen buries himself deeper, beginning to thrust up into her at an angle. he kisses her with frenzy, tongue swirling around hers, swallowing each and every noise she makes. the room grows incredibly hot, their skin sticky, each trying to apologize to the other using their bodies. 

carmy snaps his hips forward, and the girl releases from his lips with a loud cry. her nails dig into his shoulder. it’s so good she feels like crying again. 

“y’such a pretty fuckin’ girl,” he growls, “love how you feel, y’know that?” 

her droopy eyes meet his. she loves the way it sounds from his mouth. loves everything he does. 

“i’m all yours carm,” she gasps, savoring the deep, satiating feeling of his thick cock.

“yeah?” he asks breathily, “all mine?” grabbing her ass, pulling her in time with his thrusts. 

“y-yeah,” she cries, eyes tightly shut, “yours. i love-ah,” she’s interrupted by a punctuated thrust, losing her words, head falling back, breathing heavily. he feels so good.

“what d’you love?” he asks, leaning forward to kiss her exposed neck, “huh?” 

“love y-how you make me feel,” she cries. 

his chest flutters. he bites and kisses the skin of her neck. he wishes she would’ve said something different. 

“what else, hm?” a kiss, thrusts speeding up, “what else d’you love?” 

“love-fuck, right there,” she whimpers, “i love-ah,” trailing off as if she can’t even think straight. 

carmy smiles into her neck, giving her skin a final bruise before pulling away to catch her lips. 

“tell me,” he growls, grabbing the side of her thigh and continuing to upwards. 

her eyes fill with tears. she’s scared to say it. 

“i-,” an gasp, “i love you, carm.” she catches his gaze as she says it, and watches how his expression softens. how deeply he looks at her. the man dives into her lips again, kissing her with a ferocity she had yet to ever receive, groaning into her mouth. 

“fuckin’ made for me,” he growls in between kisses, “love everything about you,” pulling her leg further up, “perfect fuckin’ girl.”

he rolls over her and lifts her hips up, continuing to thrust into her. 

the girl wraps her legs around his back accommodatingly, dizzy from his words and the pleasure. she slips her fingers down to circle her swollen clit, feeling as if she teters right on the edge of climax, overcome with a white hot pleasure. 

“love you,” she cries, nails scratching down his back, “iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou m’gonna cum” she babbles. he smiles down at her, almost overwhelmed by a feral need to claim her. 

the man deliberates throwing caution to the wind and cumming inside of her. he knows she wouldn’t mind. he rationalizes the logistics of making her a mom in his frenetic state, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, her wet eyes, her open mouth. he decides he’s in love with her. decides he wants her to be his forever. he watches her cum. watches her eyes roll back and her body start shaking. listens to the sweet harmonic moans that spill from her lips. 

“there y’go,” he coaxes, “such a good girl,” kissing her swollen lips, “fuckin’ in love with you,” heightening the pace of his thrusts, feeling himself approach the brink of orgasm. he seriously considers cumming inside of her, telling himself he would if she asked. he looks at the girl for confirmation, but she’s too far gone. he begrudgingly pulls out, shooting thick ropes of cum onto her stomach with a groan, missing her warmth as soon as he leaves. 

carmy rolls off of her, grabbing her face and pressing a firm kiss onto her cheek, collapsing on the bed for a moment. he feels spent.

the girl pants, trying to catch her breath. carmen nuzzles into her neck, wrapping around her tightly, kissing her tenderly. they bask in the afterglow, cherishing the presence of each other, an encompassing silence following the heavy words exchanged.

she’s the first to speak. well, complain. 

“there’s….cum all over my stomach.” she rasps. he smiles into her neck. 

“shower?”

quiet, for a moment. 

“i can’t move.” 

he kisses her bruised skin with a lazy smirk and sits up to grab her a washcloth. 

-

when the girl wakes up alone the next morning, her heart drops a bit, finding the bed next to her empty once again. she shuts her eyes immediately, hoping to be swept away by sleep so she could postpone the disappointment. 

that is, until she hears noises from the kitchen downstairs. and smells the bacon. 

the girl groggily pushes herself up out of bed, stalking down the hallway. she gets halfway to the stairs before realizing she’s completely naked, stopping in her tracks, turning to carmy’s open door, eyes falling on a t-shirt on the ground. she quickly grabs it and slips it over her head, then continues to curiously make her way downstairs. soft music comes from the speaker in the kitchen, and she slowly descends the stairs to find carmy deftly working over the stove. the whole house smells incredible. 

she slips behind him to get to the coffee pot, sliding her hand along his back as she passes. 

the man turns his head.

“hey,”  he watches as she retrieves a mug from the cabinet, graciously taking in the sight of her wearing his shirt. 

“good morning,” she smiles, “smells so good in here.” 

as she stretches to get the mug, the hem of the shirt lifts ever so slightly over the curve of her ass. he clears his throat.

“nice shirt,” carmy says, turning back to tend to the bacon. 

she lets out a soft giggle, pouring her coffee. 

“yeah?” taking a sip and leaning against the counter, “figured it would be better than coming down naked.”

his brain stutters for a moment. he turns to catch the smirk on her face. 

“i, uh…. i dunno about that,” he responds, small smile on his face. she shoves his arm playfully and he breaks into a grin. 

“no work this morning?” she asks, grateful for the unusual saturday morning presence. 

“no, i, uh…m’taking a personal day,” he replies, turning the heat of the stove off, “had some stuff i needed to get done.”

“good,” she replies with a nod, “you deserve a day off. i didn’t take you for much of a breakfast guy, though” she comments, tilting her head slightly. 

“i’m not, really,” he plates the bacon over a paper towel, “but i, uh…thought some all american might help with your hangover.” 

she feels a pang in her chest, eyes glancing over the assortment of pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and bacon. everything she had told him last night. 

“carm,” she whines, “that is so kind. you didn’t have to all of this for me.”

the food looked delectable, plated beautifully and piping hot. 

“i wanted to.” he begins to pick up the plates. 

she puts her coffee down and helps him set the table.

when she takes the first bite of her bacon and eggs she practically moans at the taste. 

“fuck,” she locks eyes with him. 

“yeah?” he watches her with amusement.

“yeah,” she breathes, nodding, “that’s…wow.” 

he can’t help but grin, hand coming to rub over his face. 

“good?” 

“yeah.” she nods, “really fucking good.”

he feels his skin heat at the way she says it, having no idea why watching her enjoy his food was so deeply satisfying (and maybe just a little arousing).

“try the pancakes,” he tells her, pushing the syrup closer to her. she nods enthusiastically, slathering the pancakes the maple syrup and taking a big bite. 

the girl groans, and her head falls into her hand, savoring the taste. she doesn’t think she’s ever had pancakes so good. 

“i could kiss you right now,” she looks back up at him. he lets out a breath of amusement and his cheeks warm with her praise.

“i’m glad you like it.” 

“no, seriously, i’m…going to kiss you.” she tells him, putting a hand on the table and leaning over it. she grabs his shirt and pulls him in, kissing him firmly. 

the man lets out a soft groan of surprise, enthusiastically reciprocating. she tastes like maple syrup. 

when the girl pulls back, he grabs her face and pulls her back in, wanting another sweet taste. it’s better than any pancakes he’s ever made. 

carmen loosens his grip on her face and she slowly pulls away, pressing a last kiss to his lips before sitting back down. she gives him a mischievous smile and continues eating her breakfast.  

-

“go sit down,” she tells him, taking the pan from him, “you already cooked, let me clean up.”

“we can do it together,” he compromises, “it’ll be faster.”

she shakes her head, making a pile of dishes in the sink and turning on the hot water.  

“no. go sit down and relax,” she demands, beginning to scrub. 

she feels arms wrap around her waist, feels lips on her neck. 

“so bossy,” he chides in between kisses, pressing his hips against her backside. she lets out a slow breath, leaning into his touch. her eyes flutter as she feels his hand creep under her shirt, splaying over her stomach. she’s not wearing anything besides his oversized shirt, and her skin suddenly feels hot from his touch. she arches into him slightly, and he bites her neck.  

it feels very domestic, fighting over who would clean up the kitchen. it feels domestic wearing his shirt and being pressed up against the counter by him, skin littered with his bruises, lips intertwined with his name. 

carmy begins to lift the borrowed shirt up, kisses trailing up to her ear, hand coming to squeeze her breast. 

the girl releases a soft noise, completely distracted by her task of washing dishes. her head falls back against his shoulder, and she leans into his touch. 

carmen thinks of telling her to strip the shirt off. thinks of hoisting her up onto the counter and eating her out until she cums. touching her until she cries.

he pushes the shirt up further. 

knock knock knock 

they both startle and look to the front door. carmen checks the time, and his heart drops a bit. 

he pulls away from the girl and runs a hand through his curls.

“who is it?” she asks him, observing his look of stress. 

“it’s, uh….fuck. just wait right here, okay?” his hands fall from his hips and he stalks to the closet by the front door, pulling out a scarf she doesn’t recognize. 

he opens the door halfway, and she hears a familiar woman’s voice greeting him. 

her face gets hot. her chest feels tight. 

“claire,” he greets quietly, thrusting the scarf forward, “here.”

“ugh, thank you, carmy. i’m so forgetful sometimes.” 

“no problem. i should, uh-”

“it smells good in there,” claire comments, peaking in. 

carmen steps back, eyes darting over to his roommate. she stands with her arms crossed, leaning against the counter, staring at him.

“i’m uh…cooking breakfast,” he turns back to claire, “so i should probably get back to that. i’ll see yo-”

“-i was thinking we could talk?” she cuts him off, “can i come in?”

“i don’t know if that’s…,” carmen hesitates. he glances to his roommate to find her walking behind him towards the stairs.

claire’s eyes follow the girl, taking in her attire. carmy watches her expression slightly falter. 

his roommate stalks up the stairs. was walking behind him in plain sight a little petty? maybe. but she’s sick of carmy never saying exactly what he means. she undoes the hair tie holding together her messy updo, walking to her room. 

she quickly grabs a change of clothes and rushes into to the bathroom to shower, feeling the overwhelming need to leave the apartment. 

the front door slams shut, and she hears his steps ascend the stairs.

[xopinkroses]

Sleeping with the RE boys + girls (SFW)♥

Summary; How the RE boys (Chris and Leon) and girls (Jill and Claire) sleep with their s/o. Warnings; nightmares, insomnia, sleeping issues

MASTERLIST🌸

Jill Valentine

Jill hides how sleep deprived she really is well, she hasn't had a genuine good nights sleep since before that night in the Spencer mansion. More often than not you'll be gently shaking her awake at her desk to guide her into bed for the night. Her sleep is plagued with nightmares and she clings to you tightly through the night, seeking you out both for comfort and to reassure herself that your still with her. Sometimes her whimpering and crying in her sleep will wake you up, but you never tell her when it happens-- you simply wrap your arms around her and run your fingers through her hair, whispering comforting words into her ear until she settles down for the night.

Chris Redfield

Chris has a rigid sleep schedule that he follows religiously and never strays from, no excuses. Shower at 9pm, in bed by 9:30pm and asleep for 10pm-- wake up at 5am the next morning. During the night his burly arms will slowly creep around you, pulling you into his chest and burying his face into the back of your neck. He doesn't snore but you can feel a deep rumbling in his chest as he softly murmurs in his sleep. He's like a bear, holding you and keeping you warm and safe through the night. He has nightmares occasionally but tends to sleep through them, his grip around you tightening, like he's protecting you from the monsters in his dreams.

Claire Redfield

Claire is a cuddlebug and practically koala-bears herself to you at bedtime, watching a TV show or scrolling through yours phone and talking until sleep takes you both. She snores, and will deny it vehemently, and tends to toss and turn-- whining and grumbling to herself as she twists herself into a pretzel, getting tangled in the bedding as she cuddles into you. Sometimes she sleepwalks, usually only when she's stressed though, and will lumber around the apartment until she either comes back to bed on her own or crashes on the couch. If you wake up to her sleepwalking, she'll ramble incoherently to you as you gently coax her back into bed.

Leon Kennedy

Leon has to be exhausted to get a decent nights sleep so he usually goes for a late night run to clear his mind and tire himself out. By the time he's back and showered you are already half asleep in bed. He's a big guy but he's easily able to slip into bed beside you without jostling you too much and drapes one of his muscular arms over your waist and presses a kiss to your shoulder. It's late and he's tired, he has work early in the morning, but it'll still take him a while to fall asleep-- and when he does he's restless, nuzzling into you and loosening and tightening his arms around you, furrowing his brow as his dreams are infested by horrible memories. He talks in his sleep, usually quite clearly too, and you have sworn yourself to secrecy that you'll never repeat any of it. Sometimes he repeats past conversations, or say your name and tell you he loves you, or he'll just quietly ramble about whatever has been on his mind lately. He rarely wakes up during the night but when he does he's careful not to wake you as well.

~ 🖤

[xmalereader]

DI Leon Kennedy X Bunny! Male Reader

-

|| Masterlist ||

-

Authors note: The horny police came for me. Also expect a lot of hybrid shots.

Summary: Leon is in need of a vacation and wants to spend more time with his bunny boyfriend, perhaps start his vacation with some welcome home sex?

Warnings: Fluff, backstory, mentions of Jill and Carlos, death island spoilers-ish, NSFW, MDNI 18+ only, kissing, dirty talk, pet names, collars, mentions of heats, sensual sex, Leon’s a tease, more romantically sex then rough, reader is a hybrid rabbit, rabbit traits, bunny ears and tail.

Word count: 3.3k

-

-

Leon wasn’t kidding when he said that he needed a vacation.

After the events of Alcatraz and going against Maria and Dylan, Leon knew that he needed a break from everything to at least get some time on his own before Hunnigan finds him another mission to take.

Once they were picked up from the island and flown back out, he returned back home with the rest of the others, making it to the airport in one piece as the all board off. Leon had already told Hunnigan that the minute he lands home he won’t be accepting any missions since his vacation starts now. Jill had reunited with Carlos an ex-umbrella agent who’s she’s been seeing for awhile now, while Chris and Claire had each other.

Leon didn’t really expect anyone to wait for him at the airport since he actually never told anyone that he would be home early. Before he could leave he’s invited out for some drinks by Jill, waving him over while the others wait for him only for him to turn down their offer.

“Leon S. Kennedy turning down a drink?” Said Chris while chuckling, “Are you still infected?”

Leon shakes his head with a laugh. “No infected, Rebecca cleared me up.” He responds back, holding his duffel bag in his left hand while he slows walks backwards and away from the others. “Besides, I’ve got somewhere to be.” He adds on, eager to get home while he gives everyone a smile, leaving them all confused and asking themselves why Leon was so eager to leave.

No one would have thought that Leon had a partner waiting for him back at home. After everything that he’s been through, no one would think that he would find someone that he would settle down with or perhaps devote his time too due to him being busy with the work and the amount of things that he goes through a daily bases.

After the events in China, Leon had given up on chasing after Ada, chasing after someone who he knew he couldn’t have and finally made the choice to move on with someone who he could actually have a possible future with. Imagine his surprise when he ends up finding a special experiment during one of his missions.

He was assigned to locate an old lab that belonged to umbrella searching for classified information that could help them for any future bio weapons that they were to stumble upon only to find a special experiment locked away in the deeps of the lab. Leon didn’t expect himself to find someone there alive still, but when he took a good look at the lab he noticed how recent the technology was used and the different types of medicine and chemicals that were used.

He had reports back to Hunnigan, letting her know that the lab he was assigned to search was still being used and had found someone still alive. He thought he had stumbled upon another dangerous bio weapon only to find a man with animal characteristics chained up to a wall, looking very malnourished and thin. What caught Leon’s attention was the pair of rabbit ears on his head along with a tail that peaked out from underneath his shirt and pants that he wore.

Leon had freed him that day and took him back to base where Rebecca exams the man and get further medical attention. Both Hunnigan and Leon were able to search through the files under the lab and found various files under the name Project Zero giving them further information about the hybrid that lied asleep in their own lab. Turns out that the man wasn’t entirely human since he was first found but a rare hybrid that hid from society, taken from his home at a young age only to be experimented on for who knows how long.

They kept the hybrid a secret in order to keep him safe until they found out more about his species and where he came from. When the hybrid first woke up he was in shock and panic, destroying the lab and fighting back whenever someone approached him. Leon had stepped in to help only to be caught by surprise when the hybrid jumped into his arms, holding onto him tightly and not letting go. The agent himself was in shock by the sudden move.

It wasn’t until later that he finds out that the hybrid felt safer around him since he remembers him rescuing him from the lab and taking him out of that awful place. Rebecca was able to check up on the hybrid without any issues due to Leons presence in the room and from then on it took time for them to find out more about the hybrid and finally getting him to talk and to give them his name.

Y/n was able to tell them everything from the time he was take to the time that he was rescued by Leon. He was very young when he was taken along with his family. Being experimented on and losing everyone but himself, due to him being the youngest the scientist kept him alive the longest in order to see how he grew and developed with time.

Even though Y/n was able to tell them very little he still held a fear of being used by them and closed up every few days. They knew that they couldn’t keep the hybrid locked inside a lab forever, triggering his traumas whenever he was around the room it wasn’t until Leon volunteered to take care of him, getting Hunnigan to find him a secluded area for the both of them in order to grant the rabbit a bit of freedom without society knowing about him just yet.

When Hunnigan found them a place to stay for both Leon and Y/n for the time being until they were able to figure out more about his species and with the time that Leon and Y/n’s spent alone in the cabin he was able to find out more about the hybrid, reporting back to Hunigan and letting her be know that Y/n reacted in the same manner as a rabbit.

He had a great sense of smell, hearing, very calm and of course, faster than Leon whenever they went on runs together. His ears were sensitive to him along with his tail, having to cut holes in all of the clothes that Leon got for him. He also discovered that even though Y/n was a rabbit he was able to tolerate meat and not always relied on vegetables only eating small amounts of it before focusing back on something he can eat without any problems.

The one things that Leon never reported back to Hunnigan due to embarrassment was Y/n’s heat.

It started off with Leon’s shirts going missing, surprising the man whenever he opened his drawer or closet only to notice the shortage of clothes. He ignored it at first and simply bought himself more clothes.

The next was how much the rabbit was eating, finishing his plate rather quickly and getting seconds without needing to ask. Leon told himself that he was perhaps getting adjusted to getting proper meals again due to the amount of time he was locked away and fed very little.

The breaking point was when he noticed how close and affectionate Y/n was being towards him. He was either leaning in close to him whenever they would watch a movie together or would find the rabbit in his bed the next morning, curled up to his side without a care. That’s when Leon looked into his behavior only to find out that it all pointed towards the hybrids heat, knowing that its something that rabbit have all year round, but for Y/n it was only every few months.

Leon never reported back to Hunnigan the things he did that night with the hybrid the way he sounded and the way that Y/n’s back would arch whenever Leon fucked into him. The agent knew that he should have said something, but didn’t.

Ever since then the two have grown closer, deepening the bond that he had with Y/n until he was finally off the hook.

The Hybrid stayed with Leon after 3 years the two have gotten closer than ever and knew each other like the back of the hand. Leon needed someone that he could talk too that he can come home too whenever he completed a mission instead of coming home to an empty house full of silence.

When Leon arrived home from the airport and stepped inside his home he’s greeted by a faint smell of his favorite food being cooked along with some music playing. His lips twitch into a faint smile as he sets his bag down and closed the door behind him and makes his way towards the kitchen where he finds his little bunny cooking.

He’s humming along with the music while stirring the pot the smell of various different spices that he’s cooking blinding his sense that he doesn’t notice the familiar scent that belonged to Leon until his floppy ears perked up when he hears the sound of his familiar heartbeat causing him to turn around in surprise.

“Leon!”

He turns the heat down and rushed over to Leon, hugging the man and smiling widely as Leon returns the gesture and chuckled. “I’m back…” He breaths out tiredly, clearly jet lagged from the long flight back home.

“You said you wouldn’t be back until next week.”

Leon chuckled. “I finished earlier than I thought.” His fingers brushed against Y/n’s check, holding him close before leaning down to capture his lips into a soft kiss when the kiss is returned he doesn’t stop himself to deepen it. Y/n can feel Leon’s hand trail down his back and pull him closer he tries to break away from the kiss, but Leon keeps leaning in. “Leon..the food…” he’s able to breath out between kisses only for Leon to guide them towards the stove, reaching over to turn the knob off.

“Food can wait.” Leon finally says then went on to remove his jacket and Y/n swore he was salivating at the sight of the man’s broad shoulders and biceps now out in better view. His shirt clung well to his form and made his waist look smaller and his torso bigger and god, Y/n was about to hyperventilate. “Missed you while I was gone, missed the way you feel against me.” Leon had mumbled out, lips hovering over his as he guides him towards the living room, hands on his hips while he walks them over.

“Finally got that vacation, told Hunnigan that if she needs someone for a job she will have to bother someone else.”

Y/n whimpered, unsure what to do or say next. “Y—you—we-“

The man pounced.

Leon’s arm shot out to pin him against the large couch, getting the hybrid to gasp in surprise by his sudden strength. His ears falling back against his head while he stares up at Leon who towered over him. His skin on fire, with his back pressed straight against the couch underneath him and his insides burning for anything to happen. He could already feel his thoughts officially turn to mush and his instincts just come alive with want, please, want, want, want.

Y/n hadn’t been aware he would be so desperate for something like this after Leon’s return. He’s handled longer missions and never felt such way until now. His head was light, almost to the point of dizzy, as he found himself looking up at Leon. “Look at you, baby. You’re so ready for me. You’ve been starving for this for some time, hm?”

“Y-Yes.” Y/n groaned, face growing hot in embarrassment as Leon got closer to him, one large hand reaching down to his thighs. Leon can only smirk, leaning down close in order to continue teasing his rabbit. “Eager I see, want me to fuck you?” Y/n could moan like a dying man, “Yes.” He can feel Leon’s hands trailing down his legs, eyes roaming down his body.

The agent can only chuckle by Y/n’s squirming, knowing how much he missed and craved for the hybrid as he slips his hand underneath his shirt, fingers exploring his chest and stomach until his thumb grazed over his nipple. “I’m going to make you feel good, back blowing--”

“Leon!” Y/n whines out in desperation.

Leon chuckled and blew against his ear, “Let me finish, baby.”

Y/n was about to cry.

“I’m going to make sure that our neighbors are able to hear you from here, let them know that you are all mine and how much I missed the tight little hole of yours.” Leons hand founds its way between the hybrids legs, cupping him over the shorts he wore while his middle finger stroked over his entrance.

“P-Please.” Y/n whimpers out while fighting back a moan from escaping past his lips. “You’re cute when you beg.” Said Leon and the hybrid is quick to know what he wants, knowing that he won’t do anything until he hears him beg for it.

“Please…j-just fuck me. Please. Fuck me. God, Leon, please, please. Want you. Please!” He could paw at Leons pants if he didn’t feel like it would be too much effort to try and move. “Ok, baby, whatever you want.” And then he gripped Y/n and hoisted him up pressing himself against him. “Legs around me. Now.” Y/n scrambled to do so, wrapping them around the man’s waist, and whined.

Instantly, Leon started to move. He gave a few experimental grinds between Y/n’s legs and the hybrid nearly shrieked with joy. Then the sinful mouth found its way to Y/n’s neck and without any sort of timidness or pause latched on to it. Leon nibbled and sucked to the point Y/n knew it would leave a bruise and nearly orgasmed right then from the thought. Y/n’s fingers found their way into Leon’s hair, tugging on them and is rewarded with a bite.

“Fuck, been waiting to have a taste of you ever since I got back.” Leon gave him another bite on the neck before he lapped at it with his jaw. “How about we remind our neighbors your pretty sounds, hmm? I want to hear my name spilling from your pretty lips more but let’s just hear how good it sounds.”

Y/n broke out into a drawn-out whine as Leon positioned himself to angle right up against Y/n’s short covered cock and began to slowly, but with more authority, thrust up against it.

“Say my name.” Leon ordered.

“L—Leon.” Y/n fumbled out and gave out another cry when that earned an even harder thrust. Leon moaned out. His voice sounded like sin. “Now, lets get started on getting you filled up.” Y/n’s face grows bright red. “Gonna stretch this pretty hole of yours and make sure that my cock is the only one you need.”

Y/n released a broke, high-pitched whine that dissolved into a moan which caused Leon to start rutting against him, grinding as if they were in some filthy club, and Y/n did his best to keep up but he felt himself just losing his mind. It was like he was floating away and getting drunk. Leon’s mouth and attention was actually making him go insane and he couldn’t help but love it.

He wanted more.

The two kissed like they didn’t have enough time together, tongues battling against each other, lost in the moment while Leon works on getting the hybrid undressed. Finally getting rid of the shirt he wore and quickly fumbling with the shorts he wore. Y/n moans when he feels the cool air once Leon removes his shorts along with his boxers and Leon smiled and went back to kiss over his face, trailing down his neck, to his chest.

He licked at a nipple and growled when his hybrid lover gave a gasp. His fingers trailed up and down his side, tickling over his chest and hips.Leon went back up to the hybrids chin and began to nibble, it was one of his favorite places on his lover, and smiled to himself when he earned another little rush of air. It was adorable.

With another nip he pulled back, smirking to himself when he gave off a little whine, trying to reach out to him in desperation. “Hold on, impatient little thing.”

Leon was quick to remove the blue shirt he wore. He started to unbuckle his belt when he heard another little noise. Staring down, he smirked when he saw those eyes looking at his bare chest with clear want and hunger. “You’re staring…you can’t hide anything can you?” Y/n’s eyes snapped back up to him in embarrassment.

Leon chuckled, “You have nothing to be ashamed about. I like it when you stare.” When Y/n avoids his look he smiles with amusement and leaned down to kiss him again, barely able to resist the skin. “A-Ah…” Y/n whimpered and Leon paused a moment over the hybrids collarbone but then trailed up to the neck again, lips playing over the collar. “Baby,” Leon began to push his pants off, groaning when they came in contact with each other completely bare and with a whimper, Y/n’s clenched his eyes shut, trying to catch his breath.

Y/n bites his lip when he felt Leons harden cock graze against him and tried to keep his breathing under control. The man was large, probably larger than Y/n ever handled before, and he simultaneously felt excited. With a noise that sounded like a squeak, Y/n’s body arched slightly as those larger hands wrapped around him and pressed against his back, smoothing down till they grabbed his backside and squeezed and pushed the cheeks apart. Y/n released a silent choking sound, surprised at the aggressive grip, eyes wide towards Leon. “Oh, gods.” He moans out.

Leon doesn’t need to prep him due to how wet he already is and easily slides inside, earning a chocked out moan. It takes Y/n a few minutes to adjust to Leon’s size again after not doing it for some time before he finally grows comfortable and gives him a nod to move. Leon doesn’t need to be told twice as he began to move his hips, leaning down to capture his lovers lips into a kiss.

Y/n meets him thrust after thrust, finally breaking their kiss when he’s doing little more than gasping and panting and moaning Leon’s name over and over and over again into his mouth. Leons eyes begin to burn, he’s so overwhelmed and frantic and on fire that he’s not sure how much longer he can last. He ducks his chin to press his lips to Y/n’s flushed chest, before Y/n curses and drags Leons mouth back to his.

“I love you,” Leon breathes when he can’t take it anymore - his blood is searing through his veins like lava, he’s surrounded by Y/n in breathtaking ways he never could have hoped to be. On top of it all, amongst their slapping skin and gasps and moans. He rests their foreheads together, bringing a trembling hand up to Y/n’s face and pressing his thumb against Y/n’s cheek. Y/n swipes his tongue against his swollen, kiss-bitten red lips and flutters his eyelashes Y/n rolls his hips on Leon’s cock only once more before he’s coming, too, impossibly tighter around Leon while he’s still riding his own high. It draws a long, satisfied moan from deep in Leon’s chest that has him wondering how soon he could go again, or how quickly he could coax Y/n to hardness again.

“I love you, too,” Y/n breathes against Leon’s lips, trembling and panting and sweating. “Welcome home, too…”

That causes Leon to laugh, hearing the sudden welcome home after everything. “I am home.” Leon breaths out while claiming the hybrids lips into another deep kiss.

[funniestpersonalivefr]

first kiss (resident evil women headcanons)

did the boys so you know i gotta do a girls 🙏. includes; jill valentine, claire redfield, rebecca chambers, ada wong, and sheva alomar. not proofread.

jill valentine:

she's very nervous

she does initiate tho

immediately goes back for more kisses

she's so handsy

jills just madly in love with you

you're in the break room. jill, your current girlfriend, is taking a break with you. it's already been a long day but at least your darling girlfriend is there to keep you company. the two of you are still early into this relationship but it's been nothing but amazing.

as the two of you chat over a cup of coffee you realize you've been in there for awhile. as you wrap it up in the conversation, jill's hands sit on your waist which isn't unusual however she goes a step further as she pulls you for a kiss.

claire redfield:

it's a soft kiss and the moment felt perfect. she pulls away mumbling a goodbye before she winks at you and heads back to work.

you can tell she wants to go in for a kiss

she's especially clingy

however you have to intiate

she just melts into your touch

claire's also handsy

you and claire had just gotten back from an exhilarated motorcycle ride. it's one of your favorite activities claire had gotten you into. she had brought you on a ride for the first time a few months ago early into your relationship.

the two of you are rushing into the house as some unexpected rain cut your date short. the two of you are giggling as you get past the front door, completely drenched from the rain.

rebecca chambers:

as the two of you change into dry clothes claire finds herself staring at you, you catch her smiling at her. you can tell what she wants as her eyes are fixed on your lips. you smile and pull her in, as your lips capture hers she melts into you. her hands are all over you before you pull away and the two of you smile.

she makes sure you're comfortable with everything

she asks you to kiss her

you comply ofc bc who are you to say no to rebecca

especially bc she's looking up at you with puppy eyes

you fold everytime

rebecca and you are sitting in your bedroom as you help redress her wounds from a rough mission, only a few months into your relationship and you had an understanding of the difficulties that came with rebecca's job.

she's relaxed in your touch as you finish it up and she moves to face you. she's looking at you, her big doe eyes give you butterflies in your stomach.

ada wong:

"can you kiss me?" she asks out softly. you look at her, face flushed before nodding. you gently cup her face and hesitantly kiss her. her lips are soft and you can taste her chapstick. it feels like fireworks are going off around you.

she definitely goes in for the kiss first

she's been flirting with you for so long

and when you look at ada all blushy she just goes for it

smirking into the kiss the entire time

first kiss is passionate but its followed by a peck

the two of you are at a bar, ada's eyes were on you as you rambled on about your day. your incredibly beautiful girlfriend was keeping men away from the two of you with a harsh glare the moment they approached either of you.

so many had been approaching you and ada was starting to feel irritated. she's so clearly flirting with you and yet everyone around you seems oblivious to that fact that you are hers.

sheva alomar:

as she notices another guy eyeing you from across the bar, she pulls you close. her hands gripping your chin, titling your head so your lips meet her perfectly. the kiss is filled with passion as she pulls away a string of saliva. she pecks your lips again before her gaze lands on the clearly frustrated man.

she kisses you in the heat of the moment

its her telling you i love you

sheva is a gentle yet passionate lover

her hands are cupping your face pulling you in

she's so in love with you

the two of you are on a mission, you and sheva have been nothing but professional the entire time. the two of you made a deal not to let your personal relationship get in the way of your work when you began dating a few months ago.

it was difficult for the two of you and chris had even picked up on the tension. as the mission continued you on, your gaze would linger on her and hers would do the same to you.

when you find a moment to catch your breath, chris moves on ahead of you to give you and sheva a moment. she walks with you before she can't take it anymore and her lips are on yours. her hands cup your face as she keeps you close. your heart is jumping around at her actions.

[belovedcloud]

I saw one of your latest fics (PERFECT HONEY🤍) and I just thought you were a great writer and it was like so cute and soft AAARGH

and then I also saw that you were accepting requests and I couldn't help but get excited, because I had an idea the other day - BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE 😭 so...

I was thinking about a short story fluff like with re2r Leon, where he still works at the police station but kind of without those traumatizing events YOU KNOW (or idk, you decide) so,,, he already knows Claire, who works in a cozy café near the police station where Leon usually goes on his break,buttt,, a new employee arrived (reader) and became friends with Claire (and kind of attracted Leon's attention 🥀) and idk, she (you decide if you want to use a feminine or neutral pronoun;) could work as a barista or waitress and was kind to Leon, until Leon started going to the cafe more often just to see her (or babbling about how pretty she is with Claire) until he found the courage to ask for her number or talk properly with her and, I don't know, this could end in a date or just Leon being a fool in love with a kind barista or waitress :)

IDK I AM DELULU BUT I KIND OF THOUGHT OF SOMETHING LIKE THAT

so...feel free to ignore this if you found it boring hun ^^ Thank you in advance for reading this thought and if you want to accept the idea ;)🩷🩷

Sweet Treats | Leon Kennedy x Barista! Fem! Reader

Notes: My first request! I hope you like this, I honestly found this concept so cute, and I love writing for RE2R Leon.

WC: 1.7K

CW: Fluffy Leon, no outbreak, Leon just being a clutz sometimes. Claire being your wingwoman basically and getting you both together. Mention of Y/N like once.

➽───────────────────────❥

After his first week in the RPD, Leon managed to get himself to work early enough to not get a lecture from Lieutenant Branagh. Soon enough, he met Chris Redfield who worked for S.T.A.R.S. Which quickly led to Chris taking him to a nearby café where his sister worked. Claire was a sweet girl, Leon and her slowly opened up to each other after a few days. Promptly, he became a regular customer. Getting the same raspberry and white chocolate muffin alongside a vanilla latte. Today was no different, Leon entering the café - however, he didn't see Claire at the counter. But you.

Leon couldn't help but think you were the prettiest girl he had seen. Trying to avert his eyes from your face he felt his legs subconsciously walk over to where Claire was sweeping the floor. "Morning Claire... New employee?" He mumbled as he nodded his head over to your direction. "Yeah! She came in yesterday. Super sweet." She laughed, taking out the tea towel as she wiped down the coffee table. "You don't have to be scared Leon." Claire couldn't help but snicker as she stared at Leon mentally psyching himself up to not fuck up his order. "I'm not scared.." He yipped back, before walking up to the counter.

Your hands slowly wrapped around the mug handle as you polished the inside of it, oblivious to the man in front of you. A quiet tap of the bell seized your attention, looking up to see a dark blonde haired man staring at your movements. "Oh! Sorry, hold on I'll only be a minute." You frantically rush back to the mug stack, gently placed it on top before returning to the stranger. "Sorry about that, what can I get you?" A bright smile is plastered on your face as you tap onto the half broken machine, trying to input your worker code. "Uh.. please could I get the raspberry white chocolate muffin and a vanilla latte?" Leon asked, fumbling with his thumbs below the counter. Thank fuck he didn't mess up his sentence. His hands slowly travelled to his face as he swept the hair out of his eyes, maybe he really should get a trim...

"Yeah of course! That'll be $6.24 please." Leon fumbled with his wallet after taking out $10. "You can keep the change." Leon uttered as the cash register opened, the till jittering out. You couldn't help but smile sweetly as he offered the change to you. "Are you sure?" He nodded as he saw you put the tip in your pocket. "Thanks... I'll get that for you straight away." Your body shifted towards the coffee machine. Leon couldn't help but admire the way you performed your job, it was somehow so different to how Claire would do it. You were angelic in your movements - his thoughts soon interrupted as he felt someone tap his shoulder. "In love?" Claire teased, earning a nudge from Leon's elbow into her side. "Ouch! Okay.. okay." She laughed as she went behind the counter, packaging Leon's muffin. You couldn't help but glance at Leon's smile. He was cute, super cute.

A few minutes later, a warm takeaway coffee cup and muffin stuffed into a brown paper bag laid neatly in front of Leon. "Thanks." Leon took both items into his hand and waved off to Claire, showing you a small smile as the bell chimed, indicating he had left the store. "Who was that?" You rushed over to Claire, her eyes looking at you with playful eyes. "That's Leon, he's my brother's friend or I guess co-worker sort of? He works for the RPD." Claire responded to you with a funny tone. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You laughed out, slowly wiping down the coffee stains on the counter. Your eyes wondering over to the door, missing the stranger you just encountered. "Oh it's nothing, I'm sure you and him will get along well y'know?" She giggled, shoving the tea towel in her pocket. "What the fuck is that suppos-" Your sentence quickly cut off as Claire shouted "I'm going on my break!"

Days passed, time and time again Leon soon became a person you got used to seeing. Smiling whenever you would see that navy blue uniform. A small crush blossomed in your heart - you couldn't tell him that though. Nor could you tell Claire, but she saw it in the way you stared at him as he ordered the same thing. Soon enough, you prepared it beforehand for him to have immediately. 8:30 AM, that's when Leon would come in. With that same uniform and same hairstyle, oh and of course he was handsome every time. Today was no different, except for the fact you weren't in. Leon's day was 100 times better when he saw you, entering the café he expects to see you. Seeing Claire at the front instead of cleaning caught him off guard. "Where's Y/N?" Leon closed the door behind him, leaving the cold and rubbing his hands together as the cozy environment felt different.

"She called in sick, why? Are you lovestruck?" She poked fun at him, getting his order ready. "Oh shut up.." He chuckled, sitting down at a nearby table. Thinking about Claire's words, he knew she was right. He was lovestruck by you. Leon couldn't help but find you so attractive, the way you were so attentive to him. That small talk wasn't awkward with you. He had a crush. "Honestly, yeah." His eyes diverted to the muffin and latte ahead of him. Claire's ears perked hearing his mini confession? "Oh?" She smacked his shoulder lightly. "She's beautiful and super sweet, don't get me started on how.." Leon soon rambled on about you, from your personality to your looks, the way you carried yourself. Losing himself in time as he subconsciously sipped on the latte, finishing the muffin. Claire had to sit down for this, it was cute seeing him chatter about you. "Fuck, sorry about that." He chuckled, checking his wrist-watch, seeing the time flicker to 9:00 AM. "Shit, I gotta go. Thank you for the treat Claire." Leon hastily got up and dashed out the door. Oh how Claire couldn't wait to tell you all about this tomorrow.

"You're shitting me right?" You mumbled, polishing the mugs as you looked over to the wall clock. 8:25 AM. Leon's order by your side as you heard Claire laugh. "Why would I lie about him basically confessing his love about you?" She nudged your arm, snickering as your eyes rolled back playfully. As if Leon could have a crush on you. I mean, you were just a barista who served him his raspberry white chocolate muffin and vanilla latte. What could've been so special about your actions? "Get out of your trance, it's 8:28." You heard Claire from one ear to another as she moved to dust the corners of the room. Oh how cruel could she be to leave you with this new information? The chime of the door caught you off-guard, seeing that same man in that RPD uniform.

"Good morning Leon." A shaky voice elicited from your throat. For Christs sake, pull yourself together. "Morning.. I see my order there." He chuckled, pulling out his wallet, taking out a $20 bill. "Keep the rest." A small grin crept on his face as he passed it to you. You couldn't accept this, not for basically doing something that took you three minutes at most. "Oh Leon, I can't accept this." A breathy laugh pursued out your lips. He wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Please, it's on me. You've been nothing but sweet to me. And this place must be a pain in the ass to clean up at the end of the day." Leon laughed as he took his muffin and latte, sitting down at a table. That was unusual. He usually left to enjoy his snack, but today seemed different. Your friendship seemed different. Leon was right, the sticky sugared tables and coffee splatters were annoying to clean - knowing he would refuse the money if given back to him, you stuffed the change in your pocket. "Thanks Leon.. but you really don't have to tip me each day. Makes me feel guilty, like I owe you." You muttered as you came out from behind the counter. Leon's eyes wondered over you, a small smile corrupting his lips as he thought of something.

"Well.. if you think you owe me, come sit down with me for a bit?" A teasing tone was laced with his words, but who were you to deny him. Even if the blush on your face was evident. "Alright, but why are you sat down? Don't you have to get to the station quick?" Your question rang in his head, your voice melodic in his ears. "Not really, if it comes to it I'll run." He chuckled, sipping on the latte. Burning just the tip of this tongue - warming up the rest of his body. Nothing warmed him up like you though, those pretty lips that rested peacefully on your face. Your giggles enticing him as he looked at your hands slowly fiddle, it was clear you were nervous. Fuck. So was he, but to him this was now or never.

"I uh... can I have your number?" Leon hastily said, averting his eyes from you and staring into the little leaf shape carved by the frothed milk in his hot drink. Did he mess up? Troubled thoughts rushed over Leon's head until he heard you speak. "My number, sure." You couldn't help but smile, Leon just asked for your number. This was practically a dream come true. A quick exchange of each others phone numbers soon lead to a conversation. Getting to know each other was time consuming which soon lead to Leon's face dropping as he checked his wristwatch. "Shit it's 9:15." He laughed, putting his leftovers in the bin. "I'll text you later yeah?" His hand waved off to you, feeling content in yourself.

Throwing your bag to the side of your room, your back aching from the constant horrible posture you had as you bent over tables to wipe them. Your phone buzzed. It was from Leon.

Leon: Can I take you out for dinner this weekend?

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank u for reading :)

-> masterlist

➽───────────────────────❥

[blueysobssesions]

"Is that a Hickey?"

Characters: Leon S. Kennedy, Chris Redfield, Albert Wesker, Jake Muller

You leaving a Hickey on his neck ;)

Leon Kennedy

- Leon adjusting his collar and said "Well, let's go-" he stayed silent when Ashley and Lewis/j were just gazing at him without saying anything. "Uhm, it's not the right time to adore me in this outfit..." He said "Looks like Amigo had his fun with his partner" Luis replied flirtatiously. Leon was speechless. He hoped that they won't notice how red his face is becoming. "I think you might need to look in the mirror" Ashley said giggling, pointing the mirror next to him. He hurried to the mirror to see what they were talking about and there, on his neck, he noticed a hickey. He can hear Luis and Ashley laughing maniacally behind him. He groaned "I told her not to leave a mark" touching the hickey on his neck. "It's a sign of ownership Amigo! She's putting her mark on you, saying that this on is mine" Luis teased. Leon stared at the hickey you created and he pondered... He grinned, "Well, I'm guessing I'm not covering it then?"

Chris Redfield

When he opened his eyes, he looked at the side and noticed that you were still asleep and... naked. When he looked down, he also saw himself naked. He sighed and sat up, giving you another glance before moving to kiss your forehead. He touched the ground with his feet with a sigh as he extended his arms... He dressed himself and walked downstairs. "Boo!" Claire startled Chris causing him to yelp "Jesus Claire! It's too early!" He complained "Haha, I'm Sorry!" He was patted on the shoulder as Claire chuckled "So, how's Y/n- Oh, I see you two had fun last night?"she winked at him. "W-what?" "Oh Don try to deny it! I can definitely see a hickey on your neck" He look behind her which there was a mirror, he noticed the hickey you left last night. "I'm expecting to be a niece!" A blush creeped out to his face.

Albert Wesker (Re5)

As Wesker walked through the hallways, he came across Excella. Excella has never been happy just to see him. He knows about her liking him. Despite knowing about her feelings towards him, Wesker remains distant and uninterested in Excella's affections. He sees her as nothing more than a tool to further his own agenda. You are the only person in his world in whom he is truly interested. Excella greeted him but was rejected. She groaned and rolled her eyes. "Wesker, please sit down so I can inject it" she suggested. Wesker walked towards her and sat down on the chair, rolling down his sleeve for the injection. Excella watched in silence as Wesker receive the injection. When Excella was about to put the syringe back, she notices something on his neck. Her eyes went wide when she saw a hickey on his neck "Is that a... Hickey?" she asked him. Wesker smirked and replied, "Your not the only one who's been busy, Excella," before he pulled up his sleeve. "Who gave you that hickey!?" Excella demanded as she noticed the love bite on his neck. Wesker chuckled and said, "It's none of your concern. Let's focus on the task at hand" He said standing up, he didn't actually planned to cover it up as if he wanted to know that he was yours and you were his. Excella raised an eyebrow but decided to let it go for now. She knew that Wesker was a skilled operative and they had a mission to complete. However, she couldn't help but wonder who had bitten him.

Jake Muller

"Ugh, why did you include him on the mission Captain?" Pierce groaned in annoyance. Jake only chuckled at his reaction "Relax, Pierce. We need him on this mission," Chris replied calmly, hoping to ease the tension between them. "Look, I can walk out of this room, you know? If that's what you want," Pierce glared at him, "Fine, but if anything goes wrong, it's on you" he spat. Jake smirked, and the room was quite hot, making Jake sweat slightly. Standing up from the chair, he removes his jacket. He then heard a chuckle from Chris "I didn't know you were in a relationship" Jake rolled his eyes and replied, "It's none of your business Chris" He spat before putting his jacket besides him. "Okay, Okay. I was just curious," Jake shook his head, and Chris then again spoke, "Well, there is something... On your neck? A hickey maybe" Jake looked at Chris with a surprised expression and asked "What? Are you serious?" He asked, reaching his hand out to feel his neck. He then realized that there was indeed a mark on his neck and blushed with embarrassment. Pierce laughed at his reaction, and Jake stared at him and said, "Shut up" he said and Pierce only rolled his eyes.

TAGLIST:

@momma-vi

@ssbptigers

@mnjxs

@dargoww

@re-njnx

@genshinimpactmemes

(want to be added? Just message/send an ask!)

[whenmemorydies]

Sydney won't take Shapiro up on his offer

We all know that Sydney has the technical skill, the people smarts and the good business sense to find work outside of The Bear if she so chose. By the end of season 3, she's being pursued by one chef in particular (Adam Shapiro of Ever) to join him as he opens his own restaurant.

While she could leave The Bear - serving Carmy right for his treatment of Syd this past season - I don't think she's going to be jumping ship to Shapiro anytime soon. This is based on the conversation that Syd had with Shapiro in 3x07 Legacy. That convo had some call backs and call forwards that speak to a misalignment of values when it comes to running a restaurant together. Lets get into it.

Joy, collaboration and control

First, Shapiro tells Sydney that he wants to run his new restaurant but he doesn't want to cook all the time:

This contrasts to Carmy and Syd's discussion in 2x09:

Carmy: You still love to cook, right?

Sydney: Yeah.

Carmy: Yeah?

Which is followed by their cheeky chat about omelettes with boursin, chives and ridged potato chips (oooh fuck).

So we know Sydney loves to cook.

Carmy does too, even though we know he may not think its fun. Recall his convo with Richie in 2x01 Beef:

Carmy: This shit's not fun for me. (I swear he's saying this and not what the subtitles are saying lol)

Richie: Yeah, but you love it.

Carmy: That doesn't make it fun.

Still, there's the joy - the fun - we know that Carmy and Sydney have when they menu plan and cook together:

We also know from season 3 that both Carmy and Sydney are head down in the kitchen at The Bear. They're both overseeing the cooks, plating and running expo.

Contrast this with Shapiro who wants to run things but doesn’t want to cook every day. I’d go so far as to say he may not love cooking enough to want to keep doing it. Ultimately, Shapiro wants the control that comes with restaurant ownership but doesn’t want to take part in the creation - in the collaborative process - required to build his restaurant’s vibe (recall him telling Sydney it could be whatever she wants it to be in 3x07 Legacy):

Like @freedelusionshere has said repeatedly: Sydney craves collaboration. She did it all on her own with Sheridan Road. She's does not want to be running things on her own again at The Bear. She's reticent about relying on Carmy because as an only child and someone who ran her own business, she's used to being self-sufficient. Post 2x02-season-2 Carmy who bailed on the restaurant to numb himself with Claire and season 3 Carmy who's gone full Michelin-mode, icing her out of so much of the planning is probably giving Sydney even less reason to let herself be vulnerable enough with Carmy to fully rely on him. She indicates to Marcus in 3x05 Children that the idea of relying on someone is scary for her.

Given what we're shown in episodes 3x02 through to 3x04 prior to the above admission from Sydney, its almost certain that the "someone" she is talking about is Carmy.

Still, Sydney knows what she and Carmy can do together based on their frankness with one another in season 1 and their collaboration in season 2. She knows what Carmy promised her in 2x09 Omelette: that he wouldn't let her fail and in 3x01 Tomorrow: that he would never leave her to do it all by herself again. (OK we know he's gone in the entirely wrong direction on this in season 3 by fully taking the reigns himself…but the man is able to course-correct (remember how he made things right with both Marcus and Sydney in 1x08 Braciole?) and I hope he does this early on in season 4).

Above: Carmy reassuring Sydney in 2x09 Omelette that he won't let her fail and that she's not alone this time. Below: Carmy's vow to never leave Sydney to live a life apart from him run the restaurant alone again in 3x01 Tomorrow.

But Shapiro is not offering her any of that. He's letting her take the reigns - and consequently, the fall if anything goes wrong with his new venture - and I'm pretty sure that reality: that the buck for an entire restaurant with a full suite of staff is going to stop with Syd, is even more terrifying and misaligned for Sydney than what is happening at The Bear.

What Sydney doesn't know (but may suspect from Shapiro's offer to give her full control of the restaurant with precious little reason to - how did this man even get her phone number to begin with?) is that Shapiro may have a history of throwing other people under the bus to take the fall for his mistakes. Recall that the first time we are introduced to Shapiro in 2x07 Forks, he is yelling at the crew at Ever about a smudged plate:

After time-costing the effect of the smudge (47 seconds!), Shapiro insists that whoever caused the smudge own up to it. When no one does, he yells across the table at Richie's guardian angel, Garrett:

Shapiro: Fuck you, Garrett!

Garrett: Yes, chef. Fuck me.

Later in 3x10 Forever. we learn that its actually Shapiro who's known for smudging plates (initially from a guest at the dinner who makes a crack about smudges after Shapiro introduces the first dish of the night, and then from Luca in Ever's kitchen):

What's notable is that Sydney is present for both of the above smudge gibes. So while she may not know that Shapiro has a habit of blaming his staff for what are likely his own mistakes (RIP Garrett), she is made aware in 3x10 that the dude is sloppy and notoriously so.

Does it matter if Shapiro is a mess in the kitchen? Honestly, I wouldn't give a shit (lol) BUT I'm not the one pursuing a career in the restaurant industry. Sydney is in this business because she loves cooking AND because she wants to be inspired. This is the same woman who sought Carmy out at his family's old sandwich shop after trying one of his meals. She wants to be the best and she knows that in order to do that, she needs to learn and work under the best. Or the most excellent. Same diff.

Does Shapiro meet the standard that Sydney has for a mentor or collaborator? I don't think so.

Inheritances

Cutting back to 3x07 Legacy: earlier in their convo, Shapiro tells Sydney that he wants to start clean and he doesn't want to inherit anything (presumably from his current job with Chef Terry at Ever):

This is meant to be Shapiro addressing Sydney's concerns from 3x04 Violet when he catches her as she's leaving the train station:

Sydney: It's been a long month [at The Bear].

Chef Adam: Ah. That bad?

Sydney: No, just-- Restaurants.

Chef Adam: Yeah. Right? Why do we do this to ourselves?

Sydney: 'Cause we're crazy.

Chef Adam: Yeah. What was this month's crazy?

Sydney: Um. The kind that's inherited.

Chef Adam: *Nods emphatically* Understood.

The trouble is, as Carmy clearly lays out for us later in 3x07 Legacy, restaurants are built on inheritances. They're ancestral, like a family tree:

Carmy: Like, um, something would start somewhere, and then, uh, people would take that thing and then they would take it somewhere else. So, all these parts of an original restaurant, they would end up at a new restaurant and that kind of thing. That would happen over and over again. And then all these parts of all these restaurants, they would sort of-- You know, they would find each other. And then new people would take those parts and they would put 'em into their restaurant. And the whole thing, it would, um-- It would start to happen all over again.

Marcus: So, like a family tree or something?

Carmy: [looks to Syd who has her back to him, closing her locker] Yeah. Yeah, exactly.

In the context of family, we inherit things from our ancestors whether we want to or not. These things can be genetic (like skin colour, hair texture or the shape of an eye), psychic (intergenerational trauma, you old dog), economic (inherited wealth? I don’t know her), religious or cultural (like a well-loved dish passed down in families).

Some of these things are obviously strengths, even gifts of a kind. Others are challenges that we need to meet. None of them can be ignored. To do so - to start "clean" without trying to work through and integrate our inheritances, good and bad - is done at our own peril. In season 3, this is what Carmy has been doing: he gives little time to the good lessons he's learned from mentors and collaborators like Thomas Keller, Andrea Terry, Daniel Boulud, Mikey and Natalie Berzatto, Michelle Berzatto, Pete, Richie Jerimovic, Gary Sweeps, Ebraheim, Manny, Angel, Marcus Brooks, Tina Marrero and Sydney Adamu, and latches onto the toxic behaviours and practices of David Fields and his mother, Donna Berzatto. To his credit, Richie rightly pulls Carmy up on this in 3x03 Doors (You're not fully integrated!).

When Shapiro says he wants to start clean and doesn't want to inherit anything, he posits a future where no lessons are learned and where no joy or pride is passed down. This is a future without memory. And to quote A.S. Sivanandan (and my tumblr username-sake):

When memory dies, a people die.

Or to put it another way: living a life without memory, without history, is no life at all. Its living in a decontextualised void or vacuum. And neither voids or vacuums hold the requisite components for supporting life.

Shapiro's wish for no inheritances also reminds me of this promo still for The Bear which @thoughtfulchaos773 posted about recently:

This is a shot of Carmy in the kitchen in Empire. The writing on the wall next to him reads:

Its only after we've lost everything we're free to do anything.

This quote was likely written by Chef David Fields who made a living out of terrorising his staff, getting them to subtract everything from their lives until their world revolved around his kitchen. Recall him telling Carmen in 3x10 Forever:

Chef David: So you got rid of all the bullshit, and you concentrated, and you got focused, and you got great. You got excellent.

The "bullshit" here being Carmen's entire existence outside of work. Fields allowed no inheritances from any of the staff in his space. The result? A team likely suffering the effects of post-traumatic stress disorder and god knows what else.

Sydney is not about voids or vacuums. She is not about living a life without context. She has shown us time and time again that she listens to history and does her best to integrate it. My favourite example of this is her building an entire fucking kitchen in The Beef's parking lot when the restaurant loses power and gas.

Despite her own trauma from the world of catering, she remembered the lessons she learned there (particularly around innovation and resourcefulness) and she saved the day - and The Beef - from ruin.

Now while Carmy is struggling to integrate in season 3, he has never shied away from inheritances in his work. The most salient example of this is the sandwich window at The Bear which still serves up the Italian beef sandwiches that his family is known for. Something tells me that if it had been Shapiro in Carmy's shoes, he would have nixed that idea completely.

The devil is a snake

And finally, unrelated to any life lessons inferred from the show is the allegorical warning about Adam that we are given in 3x01 Tomorrow.

Recall this scene in the third season premiere where Carmy, Luca and Shapiro are shucking peas at Ever.

Its clear Carmy is working at a speed that Luca and Shapiro find it hard to match. Shapiro is seen looking over at Carmy's tub of peas and whispering fuck in surprise/jealousy:

The camera then dips to Shapiro's tub of peas, which we can see is running low compared to Carmy's.

There are also what appear to be three apple slices on Shapiro's cutting board. They only appear at his work station. Carmy and Luca do not have anything other than peas in front of them.

We know that almost everything we see and hear on screen in The Bear is intentional and I reckon these apple slices are no different. So what could they mean?

The Bear utilises a lot of Biblical imagery and narrative and I think these apple slices continue in that vein. In the Old Testament of the Bible, there is the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Eve is seduced into eating the forbidden fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil by a serpent. In Western retellings of the story, the forbidden fruit is often described as an apple. As a result of this deception by the snake, Adam and Eve are booted from Eden.

Back at The Bear, we have three slices of apple on Chef Shapiro's cutting board. I think these represent three attempts by Shapiro to tempt Sydney to join his new restaurant (i.e. get her to eat the forbidden fruit that will result in her getting booted from The Bear and the life she's built there)

In season 3, Shapiro puts his offer to Sydney twice: once in 3x07 Legacy and again in 3x10 Forever:

I suspect that Shapiro is going to try one last time to get Sydney on side in season 4, but she'll turn him down. Eve might have trusted a snake but Sydney's got better instincts lol.

Now whether she will stay at The Bear is another story and one entirely dependent on Carmy getting his shit together in season 4. But the way I see it, Sydney certainly won't be leaving her found family in order to join Shapiro. I mean who has time for disloyalty, smudges and snakes when you have people to feed and make happy?

[blossom-works]

Mommy and Daddy Bear

"Chris! Claire!" Leon calls out to his friends. They are locked inside two Alcatraz jail cells. The Redfield siblings are pale, gritting their teeth from whatever is hurting them. The DSO agent tries to force the cells open, but they are locked shut.

"Look behind you, Leon." Claires points. Her arm is shaking, but she is determined to make her friend look behind him. Following her finger, Leon spots someone else in the cell behind him. The entire room is dark, so he turns on his flashlight.

"Babe!" Leon drops his flashlight and crawls to your cell. Like the Redflields, you are gritting your teeth in pain. Your skin is pale too. Leon reaches inside the cell to cup your cheek. Through his gloves, Leon can feel your rising temperature.

"What are you doing here? What happened? Where are the kids?"

Drowsy, you try your best to answer him. "They...They're with Helena. Some woman tried to ambush us but I managed to hold her off." Your wheezing worries Leon even more. There are two times Leon has seen you in a similar state. Both were when you gave birth to his children.

"Help! Get us out of here!"

Leon turns around and in Claire's cell is Leon's target.

"Antonia Taylor...I'll deal with your ass later." Screw his mission. His wife is more important than bringing in some rouge scientist. He needs to get his wife home to their kids.

Leon rubs your warm cheek as an act of comfort. "I'm gonna get you out of here, sweetheart. Don't worry."

Suddenly, the lights flicker on. Jill and Leon pull out their guns and point them in opposite directions. The man in charge, Dylan Blake, introduces himself and his insane plan to the entire group. One of his bio-drones stings Leon in the back of his neck, weakening the man. From your line of view, you see the same woman who tried to take your children jump down from the floor above.

"You bitch." You groan out. You wish you had your gun on you so you could shoot the woman between her eyes. The woman disarms your weakened husband and kicks him to your cell. Reaching your hand out, you squeeze Leon's shoulder.

"I get it now. The attack. The virus. You got them from Arias. That's why she's here." Leon wheezes out. The virus is coursing through his veins, slowly shutting his body down.

"Leon," You exhale. "That's her. That the bitch that tried to take the kids."

Dylan's voice echoes the large, empty room. "You killed poor Maria's father. It was only fair for her to take away your family, Leon. Unfortunately, we underestimated your wife's condition. Even at three months post-partum, she was able to put up a fight. Left a bruise or two on Maria. I've got to say my friend, you have yourself quite a catch."

"Screw you, you bastard!"

"My kids and wife are innocent! You had no right to go after them!"

Dylan goes on a tangent about how everything the BOW fighters have fought for was a lie. They are nothing but pawns for powerful people to use. Dylan nit-picks at each of them, even you.

"And poor Mrs. Kennedy...I feel bad for you the most. You married a man who is tied down to his endless, grueling job. He even got your family mixed into his mess. What kind of a man does that to his family?"

You defend your husband through your gritted teeth. "Leon didn't do shit to our family. You're the one who endangered our family, asshole! My husband does everything he can to protect us so kindly fuck off!"

Leon has always questioned his ability to protect his family. He is constantly gone throughout the year and for an unknown amount of time. Your husband tries his best to be there for his kids and for you, but work gets in the way. He even worries about being present in their early lives. Leon does not want to miss out on their important firsts. He never wants to end up as the dad who misses out on his kids' school events, games, and recitals. Dylan is good at hitting a man in his Achilles heel.

Maria grabs onto Jill's hand, making her drop her gun from the pressure she applies. To protect their only chance at survival, Leon pulls out a flash grenade and tosses it in the middle of the hallway. When the flash clears, Maria steps onto Leon's chest. The more pressure she uses, the more her heeled boots dig into his skin.

"Leave them, Maria. They're all about to turn anyway."

Reluctantly, the woman obeys. She haughtily looks down at you who is glaring at her. Cursing the woman for going after your family. Silently proclaiming your revenge.

All week and terrified, Leon does his best to distract you from the pain. "How are the kids?"

"They should be fine. Helena was with me when Maria decided to drop by. She took the kids while I stalled Maria." You grip your side in pain. "Man that bitch packs a mean kick."

"She," Leon groans. "She knew where we lived?" You nod. It astonishes you too. Everything about your family is classified thanks to DSO's protocol. Information about their agents and their families is pretty much untouchable with the exception of a few.

Being the angel she is, Rebecca shows up with her vaccines. "Thank goodness I made an extra." She tries to give Leon the vaccine first, but he rejects it. No way is he going to get better while his wife is still sick. When everyone is vaccinated, you all know the battle is almost over.

Picking up Jill's gun, you turn around to face your husband. "Let's go get that bitch."

---

The fight between you, Leon, and Maria is an exhausting one. It takes the two of you a while before your full strength is back. Something must have been injected into Maria because she is what you describe as a "super soldier". Maria is a good fighter, but she fucked with your family. She broke into your home. She tried to go after your precious kids and use them as leverage. The woman fucked with the wrong set of parents. And she put her nasty ass foot on your husband's face! So not cool!

When Leon regains his strength, he double-kicks Maria. His last kick is about to send Maria to her death, but you want to be the one to do it. You take the disheveled Maria and shove her from behind with your foot while bending her body down to a certain level of height. The metal rod sticking out, pierces through Maria's head, killing her instantly. You and Leon have peace of mind knowing that the woman after your family is dead.

Leon drags you away from Maria's body and brings you into his chest. Your hug only lasts a couple of seconds because the control room starts to shake.

"We are so going on vacation after this." You say.

Leon laughs and nods his head in agreement. You guys are definitely booking a trip when you get home. He hopes that Eri will not remember whatever happened in your home. Levi is only a few months old but his sister is two. Leon does not want Maria to be one of Eri's earliest memories. Leon can only hope that your maternal instincts protected Eri from early childhood trauma.

---

The fight on Alcatraz Island is over. The six of you sit outside as you wait for backup to arrive.

"Well...I know what I'm taking away from this."

"What's that?" Rebecca asks.

"Prison tours suck." Leon's dorky remark makes everyone laugh. You lightly shove him to the side before he swings his arm around your shoulder. "So, where we goin' for vacation, love?"

"You were serious about that?" Chris asks. Leon announced that he and his family were going on vacation after this mission, but the BSAA operative thought Leon just said that in the heat of the moment.

You hum. "France? I've always wanted to see the Palace of Versailles and I'm sure Eri would love to go to the Disneyland there."

Claire raises her hand like a kid. "OOO! I wanna go too!" As much as she travels because of one thing or another, it is never where she wants to go and do what she wants to do (besides survive of course).

"France sounds good. Jill? Rebecca?"

Jill shrugs her shoulders and Rebecca says that she could use a vacation after this week.

"Wait a damn minute, It's a family vacation. Kennedy only." You slap your husband's arm for being rude to your friends.

"C'mon babe, these guys are practically family. Besides, free babysitters."

Hearing "free babysitters" immediately changes Leon's mind. He loves his children, but having the chance to have their mother to himself is just too good to pass up. Eri is an easy kid to watch, she just needs to work on her potty-training skills. Levi is formula fed so he does not need to be on your boobs every two or three hours. This means that mommy and daddy can have some uninterrupted "mommy and daddy" time.

"Alright, fine but you guys are paying for yourselves."

---

Story inspired by "Family Matters" by @not-another-leon-blog

[casscainmainly]

hii, do you read fanfics? and if yes, do you have any fic recs for cass, either as a solo character or focused on her relationships with the rest of the batfam?

Hi!!! I'm not the most well-versed in fanfics, but I have read some great Cass ones. These are mostly going to be solo Cass focused, since I haven't found that many great ones with the Batfam.

Volving by @shobogan

This short fic kills me everytime. Set after the end of Batgirl (2000), it's honestly the conclusion I wish we'd gotten. The dialogue for Cass is on point, and I'm quite picky about Cass dialogue! I also recommend shobogan's equally amazing Equinox, which is a Brenda/Cass story.

Hot Girl Shit (The Feminine Urge To Die Young) by @havendance

An astonishingly clever fic that places Claire Clover (Gotham Girl) into the events of early Batgirl (2000). No knowledge of Claire is strictly needed though, the author makes it really easy to follow along. The parallels are unmatched, the feels are tremendous, it's just a great fic everyone should read. Also recommend havendance's Cassandra Cain vs. The World!, where Cass has to fight Kon's seven evil exes (it's as hilarious as it sounds).

Nourish by Ptelea

This fic is as sweet as its theme - Cass gets a moment with each of the Batfam, bonding over fruit. The writing is beautiful, and the Jason section in particular is stellar. The fluffiest fic on this list by far!

what's past is prologue by Icestorm238

Cass only appears in the sixth story in this series, but the entire thing is worth reading. A Dick-goes-back-in-time-to-save-Jason fic, the character twists and turns are so good, and there's an excellent Steph-centric story here too! Even if you don't care for the other characters, Cass is incredibly well-written in her section, a rarity for whole Batfam fics.

When Pinioned Birds Take Flight by @iowriteswords

This series (Robin and Other Flightless Birds) is well known, but this story is the most Cass-focused, and doesn't necessarily require knowledge of the prior fics. Though this is an AU, Cass is anchored in canon, and her relationship to Babs in particular gets a lot of development in the last part of the fic.

Not as Cass-centric as any of these, but bad signal by prismatical is an excellent story with some great Cass moments. The fic is definitely more focused on Dick, Jay, and Tim, but Cass isn't just a prop here and is actively involved, so I'd still check it out!

I wish I had more recs, I know there's some great Cass stuff out there I haven't found yet. Thanks for the ask, hopefully other people can chime in with their own recommendations!

[turretistrying]

Infected/Zombie Reader helping RE men (Leon K., Carlos O., & Ethan W.)

Somewhat based on that one zombie reader post by @qdbs-writes because honestly it was really cute and this idea has been bouncing in my brain for a bit. I’m going to preface that I’ve only played RE2R, but I have a vague understanding of the RE lore and stories, i’m only doing these three because I know them the best, if I knew chris better I would’ve added him

(this is just a suggestion but here’s what’s damaged on your zombie body: right eye gone, right cheek crewed off, left shoulder nearly gone, and several bites all around)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE2)

You’re one of the many, many, people who fled to the RPD to escape the growing hoards of zombies, unfortunately you were infected early on and hid out in one of the many storage rooms as you succumbed to the virus

…but your conscious stays somewhat intact, sure every thought is slower and less verbose but you still have some of it left, speaking is hard as well but you can speak to some degree

you stay on the third floor, observing Marvin and eventually Leon once he comes in

You’re enamored as soon as you see him, so you decide to try and help him as he goes through the entire RPD, placing some ammo here, some boards there, in general helping out behind the scenes despite how slow you move

This slowness bites you when you go down to the main hall to place a green and red plant you had found next to the typewriter, since Leon had been limping for quite awhile around the RPD

You gently place the two plants (still in the containers, you can’t grind them up due to the shakiness in your zombified hands) but you hear Leon coming down from the second floor library so you try and shuffle back into a room to hide again, until you hear the click of his gun

You turn around and see Leon, gun raised to likely give you a headshot like he’s given to plenty of the other zombies around (you know since you’ve seen plenty bodies with exploded heads..)

So you just, start shuffling backwards with arms raised in peace, mumbling ‘sorry.. sorry.. please, no.. hurt’ as best you can with your undead voice, which comes out pretty rough

Leon was about to shoot you but as soon as he saw you back away and mumble what sounded like human speech and not just growls and rumbles, so he lowers his gun slightly, tilting his head at you

You escape into the west office, and Leon fully lowers his gun and then looks at the plants you left him (he uses them, he’s not an idiot to ignore a healing item when he’s been at ‘danger’ for 2 hours)

When Leon unlocks the Goddess statue you come out from hiding and softly approach, and hand him some ammo and healing items “good.. byye..” you say to him look at him with your singular eye (you lost the other one when you got infected) before starting to walk off

Leon watches you walk away, about to hide again and he hesitates before saying “Wait, would you… like to come with me?”.

He watches you turn slightly and grumble “..you.. sure?”

He nods at you and you walk back up to him, and follow him as he goes down the stairs

Bonus:

During the G-3 fight you help by throwing yourself at him and stab one of the eyes with a knife Leon gave you, smiling in triumph when you stab an eye fully

Ada is very cautious and nearly shoots you several times, she thinks you’re just in the early stages of infection and she doesn’t want you killing her pawn (leon) before he gets the virus for her

When you get on the train Claire and Sherry are a bit wary of you but during the trip they start to like you, Leon’s account helps a lot as well

Carlos Oliveria (RE3)

Similar to Leon’s, you’re one of the people who fled to the RPD and got infected, and hid in a storage room (this storage room was clearly for all the Christmas decor… the bells gave it away)

You picked off the bells and kept them in a small box, as well as stealing post-it notes and a pen from the west office

From the second floor you watch Carlos and Tyrell make their way in, watching them scope out the place

As soon as you saw Carlos, you muttered under your breath “he..h.. scruffy..”

You noticed he was having a hard time with the Lickers, so you decided to make use of the bells you took, throwing them down hallways out of sight of Carlos so the Lickers chased the noise

He heard the chiming, making a remark like “The hell is that coming from?”

After awhile of doing this, you decided to just gift Carlos the bells

You place them on a desk with the brightest sticky note you could find

He finds it, noticing the stark contrast of the gloomy environment of the RPD, and reads the note

‘For the licks! Hold tighy in hnd then throw, it loud so they chse! : )’ was written on the note, it was hard to read being a shaky and messy handwriting but he got the general idea, chuckling at the squiggly smily face on it

He opens and sees 4 tiny golden bells

He looks around, hoping to maybe find who put it there but finds nothing, nothing but a hunched over dead (?) zombie next to the desk “Whoever put this here, Thanks, and thanks for probably being the reason for saving my ass a few times”

He leaves and you say to the air “no.. problemmm..!”

You start following him around and so he eventually notices you, and nearly shoots you on the spot before you move your hand to ring the golden bell you kept and attached to a string as a necklace

He relaxes a bit but keeps his guard up until he realizes that you’re just an innocent smart (questionable) zombie!

Bonus:

Before realizing that you weren’t gonna hurt him, he really thought you were because you kept staring up at his head… In reality you just really wanted to pet his hair, but because words are hard when you’re a zombie and you didn’t wanna get shot you just didn’t say anything

(You eventually did get to touch his hair, muttering a “soooft.. so.. soooft!”)

In that helicopter cutscene when Nicholai is about to shoot Jill, you jump from nowhere and tackle the guy by the neck; Carlos shouts in exclamation “Hell yeah! Get him!” before Nicholai punches your jaw right off (ouch)

Ethan Winters (RE7)

In this case you’re kinda like Ethan if he didn’t get all his memory and body transferred (does.. does that make sense???)

Since the moment Ethan stepped into the Baker House, you’ve been watching him

While you can’t remember most of your past, you know you were human like him, and watching him brings you a sense of… comfort. So you watch as he explores the house, trying to find Mia

Sometimes you forget what you’re doing and make noise, making Ethan more paranoid as he goes through the house (you felt bad every time you accidentally spooked him)

Watching him getting attacked by Mia was a nightmare, and you felt like you shouldn’t intervene… until Mia stabbed him in the hand

You emerged from the shadows (and mold..) and pulled her off of Ethan, giving a soft growl at her before she tried to attack you. You sidestepped and pushed her into the wall, which caused her to knock her head against the wall and faint

You stared down at her before turning to Ethan, who was a bit put off by your appearance

“You’re… hurt. Follow.” and you start walking to where a first aid liquid was hidden away and hand it to him

After patching him up you go over to the boarded up door and started to remove the wood with ease, before Mia got back up and threw Ethan through the nearly open door. You yelp (with some scratchiness) at that before running up to try and help, but then Ethan swung an axe into her neck.

You look at him and see the horror in his eyes at what he’s just done, you reach out to touch his back before slightly withdrawing; “you… oo-kay?” You asked in a low voice, and he shook his head before standing up and making his way deeper into the house, fully ignoring you after that.

So you follow, wanting to make sure he’s okay. He’s the only thing human in this house (for now)

Then Mia comes back again, of course, stabbing Ethan in the hand with a screwdriver this time. You run up and start trying to pry it out of the wall and his hand, before you see Mia coming with a chainsaw. She slashes with the chainsaw, cutting you in half at the shoulder before hitting Ethan’s wrist.

You blackout for awhile, coming to after about an hour as your body of mold stitches itself back together into one solid form again

Submerging into the mold, you reform in the living room adjacent to the nightmare dining room, seeing the back of Ethan tied in one of the chairs

You carefully untie him from the chair, before being noticed Marguerite pulled you up by the hair unto the table

You reach into a clump of mold and pull a smoke bomb before pulling Ethan out of the chair and away

From there on you helped him the best you could

Bonus:

You alway try and take the hits for him, he’s still fleshy and human, you can take it! He’s still worried for you despite the fact you can patch yourself back together.

When Ethan dies and becomes mold, you feel bad for him. You don’t tell him, since if he thinks he’s still human, then he’s still human to you.

After the BSAA comes you don’t know what to do, you assume you’re going to be left there or be experimented on… but Ethan calls your name (that you told him at some point, it’s one of the only things you have left from before being molded) and gestures you to come with him, you come close before fearfully looking at Chris, but he just nods and lets you on the helicopter.

OKAY WOW this is… something. I don’t know. I kinda gave up in that last one despite Ethan being my favorite next to Leon. I really hope, that this is good, im some way, amd i hope i didnt totally screw the canon, ahhh. Hope people like thissss,,, would’ve done art but i’ve got art block

[fist-of-vengeance]

thinking about how essentially every relationship john locke formed in the early seasons of lost has completely disintegrated by the time of his death.

of course there's his relationship with jack, which starts tense but manageable and culminates in jack pointing a gun at john's head and pulling the trigger. but even his smaller, less narratively prominent relationships either implode or drift apart. he bonds with walt in season one but then walt leaves the island, which is itself a severing of their bond since it was mainly based on being the only two people who wanted to stay. still, he goes and visits walt off the island so this is probably john's most successful relationship. I dont think i need to explain how he fucked up with boone, "the sacrifice that the island demanded." charlie viewed john as a mentor and claimed to trust him more than anyone on the island, but after the events of fire and water, that trust is destroyed and charlie despises him. at the same time we get john bonding with claire and having a pseudo-paternal dynamic with her, but their closeness basically drops off the face of the earth as he gets less and less involved with the other survivors.

his arc in the series is essentially a gradual distancing from everyone around him. it starts when he abandons hunting (providing for the others) in favor of trying to get the hatch open (it's extremely clear his primary motive isn't any survival applications but getting answers to the mystery). when they do open the hatch, he spends more and more time inside, underground, cut off from other people. he spends more and more time interacting with ben, a human mystery box that he's obsessed with cracking even if it gets him killed. he follows the proverbial white rabbit deeper down the hole and leaves his connection to humanity behind. the island and its mysteries become more important to john than anything or anyone else.

then in season three we get him claiming to go undercover with the others only to unceremoniously tell sawyer that he's actually going to join them. and it doesn't feel shocking, it feels inevitable. because john has spent the entire series becoming less and less connected with the people he arrived with. in that sense he actually makes a fascinating foil to juliet, who is introduced as one of the others and yet never really fits, she's increasingly sympathetic and kind in a way the rest of them aren't, her redemption arc feels so natural that she actually starts referring to her old people as "the others" like she's been one of the crash survivors from the beginning. her and john basically have inverse arcs, which is probably accidental but very neat.

in season five john tries to convince everyone to go back to the island, and fails spectacularly. and of course he does, because he was so consumed by obsession that he stopped maintaining his relationships, and in many cases actively alienated people (this is also basically what happened with helen) and now he can't wrap his head around why they're all so hostile to him. i am forever obsessed with the scene where he confronts kate and she brutally calls him out for wanting to return to the island because he doesn't love anyone. it actually struck me on rewatch how well the two of them got along in season one, and how badly their relationship has degraded by this point. john repeatedly casts aside interpersonal relationships in favor of his obsession with destiny, so when said destiny actually involves persuading the people he once shunned, he's at a loss. this is because john treats purpose as a supplement for connection, destiny as an alternative to love.

as an aside, this aspect of john's character kinda ties into my opinion that several lost characters can be read as allegorically neurdivergent under a certain lens. i know this was absolutely not intended, but as an adhd former gifted kid who struggles socially, there is something uncomfortably familiar about a character who allows their relationships to burn around them because of a single-minded obsession, especially as a result of being promised the fickle status of "special."

tl/dr: john locke is a doomed idiot and i love him

[milquetoast27]

THE SHERLOCK HOLMES DOUBLE-BEDDED ROOM CONSPIRACY

I've seen a little talk of this online, and I must share my most recent Sherlockian scholarship.

Twice in the canon, Holmes and Watson are described sleeping in a 'double-bedded room'. There are two definitions for this term, for a room:

having two beds

furnished with a double bed.

Ignoring all other clues, I firmly interpret this to have the latter meaning in both cases, in 'The Man With the Twisted Lip' and 'The Valley of Fear'.

Holmes tells Watson in TWIS, "my room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one," and later says that, "Mrs. St. Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal." He says both to Watson in assurance that there will be space for him at The Cedars, seemingly leaving the choice up to him.

Watson then later again confirms, "a large and comfortable double-bedded room had been placed at our disposal." This indicates that Watson has made the choice to sleep in the same room as Holmes (which is honestly enough for me, but we must go on!)

In the same paragraph, Watson states "Holmes wandered about the room collecting pillows from his bed." I was concerned that my theory may have been debunked here. HOWEVER!

"His bed" does not necessarily mean there is more than one, as it was very much likely 'his bed' before Watson began lodging there. Watson (bless his soul) may also be more likely to refer to it as Holmes's bed as he is not the guest actually occupying the room and using it as a base. This early in canon, Watson is still a little shy about accompanying Holmes and therefore lean more towards this perspective.

Another perspective could be that Watson considers the bed occupying the OTHER room to be 'his', and is fully acknowledging the fact that he is taking up what is Holmes's space, although I consider this less likely back in 1889.

In this time, Holmes also never occupies a bed. He creates a (cosy) fort for himself and smokes through the night instead. Why? Because he was too shy to sleep with Watson.

Why didn't he just take the other room? Think about it. Watson has welcomed himself to sleep in Holmes's double-bedded room. Wouldn't it be awkward if he now moved to sleep in the other one? Additionally, the whole reason he has brought Watson with him was to have him in his presence - not to mention a great opportunity to watch him sleep (which I am almost certain he has done).

Thankfully, my job for proving this in VALL is much simpler. In fact, Watson telling us that "the tall, lean figure inclined towards me," while he was in bed, suggests that, perhaps, Holmes was beginning to get into it?

In conclusion, I cannot prove definitively that they were indeed occupying double-beds, but any reader is 100% justified in believing so. The same goes for the reverse, and so any interpretation is completely valid >:)

[cenorii]

RE headcanons!

PART 1 (if you like it I'll make a sequel with other characters. I was just bored)

My serious headcanons about some RE characters. Some I'll write about more than others because I thought about them more often, I apologize in advance.

Chris Redfield

— his favorite color is green, he enjoys this color and adds it to any set of clothes, even his military gear. He doesn't care if shades of green may not match at all in the same outfit, he just wears that color because he loves it.

— his favorite genre of music in the early years, judging by his daring clothes, guitar and references to «Queen», was heavy metal and pop-rock. Nowadays, many years later, he probably likes the laid-back tunes of «Roxette» and «Savage» because Chris' life has become hectic and he needs an island of peace.

— he smokes, but he's not a heavy smoker. In his youth, Chris smoked a lot and often, judging by his concept art. Now, however, he smokes to get in the right frame of mind and pace, to focus and calm down.

— After the amnesia episode, Chris stopped drinking and now only drinks on holidays. Drinking has become disgusting to him, it reminds him of his episode of weakness.

— Chris prefers his natural scent, doesn't use any special perfume on himself because he washes with regular soap.

— he's a latent gay man, but he's never been in a relationship. Chris seriously doesn't understand why he isn't attracted to women. The last thing he thinks about is his real orientation. He's silly.

— he likes Wesker more than Chris is willing to admit. Since he doesn't realize what kind of attraction it is, Chris doesn't guess his crush. He's too inexperienced in love affairs to realize it. Especially when it comes to Wesker, who he has a ton of emotions associated with, a lot of which are negative.

— Chris has some guitar skills, but after 1998, he barely remembers it. He can't sing, he's just an amateur at it.

— he doesn't know how to cook, ordering takeaways. Chris doesn't like junk food, having given up his attempts to learn how to cook and not even opening the cookbook Claire gave him.

— Chris never has enough time to shave his face or cut his hair. But that doesn't bother him.

— he had a low grade in school, Chris liked fun more than textbooks.

Wesker

— his favorite color is blue, but Wesker doesn't like others to know too much about it, so he adds this color to his clothes very carefully. Blue color in his clothes has never been the main color, it is only an accent.

— Wesker doesn't usually listen to music, he prefers silence, but if he had to choose, he would settle for Frank Sinatra songs. He can only listen to something that won't throw him off his thoughts.

— Wesker doesn't smoke or drink. Spencer dreamed of creating an ideal society, so he raised the Weskers as ideal people. Such people should not drink and smoke. These people should only spend time on self-development and so on.

— he doesn't swear. Wesker doesn't like and/or know how to swear because of his «proper» upbringing. He will never insult a person with a rude word, but will pick up the most innocuous one, even if he is very angry. Who shouts «self-righteous fools» or «ignorant cretins» in anger? Only the child or Wesker, because in his situation I'd be yelling «assholes», «fucking bastards» and so on. He's polite and well-mannered, just like Spencer wanted.

— he has a good sense of humor. Wesker doesn't seem like a joker because his jokes are very subtle and infrequent. He says «I have a date to keep» and then goes and destroys the Red Queen with the phrase «goodbye, fair lady», isn't he the most serious joker in fandom after that?

— Wesker is pansexual, but he doesn't care about relationships and so he, like Chris, is not even aware of his preference. He doesn't pay attention to it, so his involvement with Ms. Muller or his sudden obsession with Chris doesn't give him any reason to wonder what his orientation is. He doesn't care.

— he's in love with Chris, but he sees those feelings as a manifestation of his pride in him.

— his bathroom shelf is filled with various self-care products, and he is very worried about his appearance. First, the smell of his perfume enters the room, and then Wesker enters.

— Ms. Muller was not just a «one-night stand» for him, there was a warm relationship between them, because she remained in good opinion of him and even kept the child. This is a side of Wesker that is unknown to the players, because he had no opportunity or chance to show it. I think they broke up because Wesker was getting too attached to this woman and she was becoming his weakness, and he «can't have weaknesses». His job may have also interfered with the relationship, causing Muller to make her own decision to get out of his way, keeping the good memories alive. Wesker, on the other hand, tried to forget about that pleasant time with her so it wouldn't interfere with him.

— he is not ashamed to recognize someone else's merits and praise another person. He appreciates people who are good at something, he is sincere about it.

— Wesker is not a villain and an antagonist, he is the anti-villain. He has all the personality traits that fit that definition. He is not the pure evil that many believe him to be due to their inattention.

— he can cook, and he does it well. Wesker is known for being great at everything and cooking is no exception. Back in the days of S.T.A.R.S., he took care of his healthy diet, but once he gained power and became a bioterrorist, he stopped cooking for himself, preferring to order food from restaurants or have a personal chef. Because of the virus, he doesn't need to eat as often as normal people, so he really enjoys the process, since it rarely happens.

— because of his principles or Spencer's upbringing, Wesker can't directly harm a child. Children have never been a target for him, and he considers it beneath his dignity.

— his name is a mononym. Wesker doesn't call himself Albert and doesn't like it when others do (but doesn't stop them out of politeness). He is Wesker to everyone and to himself. However, there is a contradiction here — he hates the word «Wesker» and this whole project. Surely he must have considered changing his name if he had achieved the evolution of humanity. He still uses his initials AW when necessary.

Leon S Kennedy

— Leon has no color preference, he wears whatever clothes he feels comfortable in. He doesn't care if the colors don't match.

— he loves children and is easy to get along with.

— he uses feminine shower gels and likes sweet scents.

— likes to drink to relax or for any other reason. But he doesn't smoke.

— the music that Leon likes is very hard to define. He is probably a music lover who listens to whatever he likes.

— Leon isn't shy about swearing. He likes to make silly jokes to lighten the mood.

— He knows how to cook, but not very well, but these skills are enough for him. Leon can make toast or fry eggs, but it would be difficult for him to cook something more complicated, so he often watches tutorials on the Internet or eats fast food.

— Leon is bisexual and he knows it. He's crazy about Ada Wong, but he tries to hide it, which is unsuccessful.

— he likes karaoke.

— it annoyed him that if he showed up in any kind of transportation, there was a high probability of an accident or something. He sometimes wondered if he was a loser.

— he had a girlfriend once, but the affair was so casual that it broke up after almost a month.

— In school he had average grades, Leon could not be called a bad student, but he was not an excellent student either.

Ada Wong

— her favorite color is not only red, but also black.

— she loves elegant clothes and doesn't care if they don't fit her work. Despite the design, Ada chooses only clothes in which she can move freely.

— only Wesker knows her real name, and her name «Ada Wong» is just a rehash of «AW» (Albert Wesker).

— I like to think that she and Wesker could have acted like best friends, but voluntarily opted out for personal reasons.

— Ada pretends not to like music, but she actually likes «Marina and the Diamonds». She listens to these songs alone, in a deserted place.

— she smoked once, but she quit. She doesn't drink.

— Ada doesn't have any holidays, she doesn't even celebrate her own birthday.

— she's straight, and she's openly attracted to Leon.

— loves subtle scents in perfume, she always smells nice, but this scent is barely perceptible.

— Ada can't cook and hasn't tried to learn. She eats food from cafes and prefers to go there herself instead of having it delivered.

— She has no problem with foreign languages, she probably knows a few besides English.

— she was an honors student in school and she's easy to learn new things.

— Ada is an anti-hero.

Alex Wesker

— Alex's favorite color is white. It is the color of sterility and truth that she strives for in her research.

— I guess her full name is Alexandra.

— loves getting her nails done to cheer herself up. Due to illness and failed experiments, she is always in a bad mood, so taking care of herself helps her keep her head cool and rational.

— Alex loved her own short hair, which she had in the past, but it reminded her too much of Albert, whom she respected. Because of what she knew about «Project W» and the truth about them, Alex felt a kind of guilt for keeping her brother in the dark and lying. So she changed her image so she wouldn't think about it.

— she's a lesbian.

— Alex knows Russian.

— she must have a secret altar in her house dedicated to Albert.

— she respects Albert so much that she even tries to think and act like him. It is forbidden to insult her brother in her presence, even though they have hardly ever met and are not related.

— Alex did grieve when she learned of her brother's death in the volcano. But when she learned of his death in 1998, she was not sad, because she had not yet had time to get to know him so well and get into his personality.

— the clothes Alex wears are formal and office style. She doesn't like to wear something informal because she feels insecure in it.

— the mole under her eye is painted, or appeared there with age.

— Alex likes only classical music, her ear cannot perceive anything from modern genres.

— Has never thought about relationships, but can admit if she likes someone.

— Alex's only humor is black.

— often communicates with quotes from books, like someone quotes from songs. This helps her to express her thoughts properly and emphasize them.

— she's a lot harder to piss off than Albert.

[theyungihven]

Truth Or Dare ⁉️ ⁕ Hongjoong

HALLOWEEN EVENT

☆ pairing: hongjoong as Dracula x Human? Reader

☆ genre: mystery, fantasy, horror,

☆ warnings: mentions of blood, sacrifice, vampires and ghosts

☆ word count: 2.1k+

☆ synopsis : You and your friends dare to spend a night at the infamous Dracula's Castle but things go astray as one by one everyone goes missing and you come across the man rumoured to be Dracula.

“You gotta do this!” You hear your friends yell or more like discuss something in the secret hideout. 

The hideout is an abandoned laboratory where you sometimes work on illegal stuff. The discussions take place every day here where everyone in your friend group (it's just 2 people) gather to share about the current news (conspiracy theories) and rumours they heard around the town while you are busy building your prototype.

“Bro, I don't wanna die too early. First, fucking global warming, now this shit? Nah I'm out!” Claire shouts as she bangs the old lunch table discarded in the room. Well that's Claire, one of you two friends, being herself. You smile at her humour which strangely manages to entertain you.

“But they offered a reward of 250 grand, if we spend a night there and return alive.” You listen keenly to Kevin who explains the plan before you to decide to jump into their conversation. He's obviously got a strategy if he's pitching the idea, doesn't he? He has to!

“Alive? The fuck is going on there?” Claire yells  in terror as it laces her body manifesting itself in her tone which shivers and shrieks.

“Rumour says, it's Dracula, who was sleeping till last month in the villa.” Kevin whispers loudly as if he intended you to hear on their spill the tea session.

“Which shithead woke him up, for fuckssake?” Claire huffs and pushes back her chair. You hear the screeching of the rusty metal and make a note to check their safety because you don't want anyone to break their bones from falling off that thing.

“Someone from med school. They're missing apparently.” Kevin slurs his sentence as if he's making things up or masking up the important details. Cheeky little Bastard who's always up to something. Probably some anatomy geek must have gotten all curious to see Dracula in the flesh and fainted in there or lost his way.

“And now, we're going there to feed him?" Claire shrieks, whose voice sounds like a scared five year old upon seeing a clown which she is to be honest.

“No, obviously! To show whoever is hiding in there, that they cannot hide for long.” Kevin's sentence catches your attention and you think whether to join them or wait and hear more. Of course, you choose the latter.

“So... we're going to expose them?”Claire asks excitedly as if in hopes of going on a ghost hunting mission. They are her time passing activities and the ghost files is her favourite show. “What if it's a cannibal or serial killer?”

“Can you speak positively for once, Claire?” Kevin shrugs, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Sorry.” Claire says softly and the conversation stills, creating an awkward silence in the room. 

You finally decide to interrupt as you pull your chair to their table and make yourself comfortable on it. “So, what's the plan?” You say, chewing the strawberry flavoured gum and reading the expressions on their faces.

“See who finally decided to pay attention?” Kevin mocks you and you roll your eyes at his statement. 

“Does the area have connectivity? Comms? Anything?” You ask him, because he certainly has some information on this if he's even mentioning the topic but he has a tendency to hide things till after the disaster is done.

“Nope everything's dead. There's a strong magnetic field apparently…” He trails on his words, again and clicks his tongue.

“What in the Stranger Things?” Claire wonders with her mouth hanging open. 

“Shut up Claire! You’re watching too much science fiction.” Kevin yells at her, sending a stern glare at Claire who turns her head down with a frown on her lips.

“We gotta do it the pirate way.” you suggest calmly, leaning back on the chair and folding your arms.

“Pirates?” Claire asks, raising her eyebrow and leaning forward with enthusiasm.

“I forgot you had pirate blood for a minute.” adds Kevin and Claire acknowledges the fact with ahh. 

“So, if we don't have comms, drones and walkies aren't gonna work. We gotta get flares and some type of marker to make a path for entry and exits.” You say looking at the table and your friends exchange looks.

“A blueprint of the place!” Claire exclaims as if she has figured out the answers to one of the world's unsolvable riddles.

“It's not your fucking aunts house!” Kevin says loudly, giving Claire the ‘I'll murder you’ eyes.

“Yeah he's right. But the villa is not that big to get lost.” You mumble, moving forward and setting your arms on the table. 

“How do you know that?” Kevin gives you the sceptical look as if you're a notorious criminal with disgusting crimes.

“It was once our family property, that was a long time tho. Some feud happened and we lost it.” You confess and their faces have the funniest expression you've ever seen. Confused, surprised and wtf?

“You have a map?” Kevin yells in your ear and you retort meters away, squeezing your eyes close  due to the pain.

“Kinda, it's a tracing, rather than a map.” you say, rubbing your ear and a flicker of hope lights up on Kevin's face. 

“Atleast, we have something.” Claire mumbles as she shares a smile.

“Be at my house at 7, we'll discuss stuff there. That's it for now.”

***

“Listen, the Manor has two exits.” You explain, spreading out the old one dimensional tracing of the Manor and its illustrations.

“Didn't you say it was a villa?” Claire says, setting her hands on her waist as she stares at the floor plan.

“Can we kick her out?” Kevin suggests and the idea doesn't sound bad considering her level headed ass. 

“It's dangerously close to Yes, but what if I get bored? We'll need her.” You trail, spreading out the second floor plan of the Manor.

“Fair. So, Claire, just shut your mouth and listen. No speaking over someone.” Kevin says and shushes Claire who pouts, giving him the puppy eyes.

“Okay so the first exit is at the front, obviously for the people and the second is at the back for the goods.” You say with your finger tracing the main gate of the Manor and then the back gate. 

“Ohhhhhh!” Claire coos, and Kevin giggles at her reaction while he gets ready to smack her on head.

“Yeah. Shut your mouth before a fly lands in there. Anyways, moving on!” You say, thinking about your next sentence and Claire slaps her hand to her mouth. 

“Are we dividing up and going from two exits?” Kevin asks, and you look up at him, eyes diverting themselves from the map and landing on his face.

“Yes, you read my mind. You two will go from the front door to distract whatever is in there and I'll go with someone else from the back.”

“Is this someone else, late to the meeting?”

“Hey there!” A voice says and it is followed by the garage door smashing open with a thud, “Sorry I had soccer practice.” Yunho, your arch nemesis on friendly terms, says and shares an awkward smile.

“This is my neighbour, yunho.” You introduce him and drag him by his arm to make his tall ass body stand next to yours.

“Hello, very nice to meet you.” He waves at your friends with a bright smile and Claire gives him heart eyes at which you cringe. 

“You both are polar opposites!” Kevin comments and you feel heating rising on your cheeks.

“We get that a lot!” You and Yunho say at the same time only to meet each other's eyes the next second and shy away. 

“What did I miss?” Yunho says after clearing his throat as he glances in your direction. His golden blond hair falls over eyes and you observe the way his gaze flickers from your face and back to map.

“Whatever I said to you, last night.” You say, finding something to stare at besides his brooding figure.

“Okay then, I'm saved I guess!” Yunho says as he nervously chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“The next phase of the plan is when I signal you, we move to the first floor. The highest is the second floor which has a library in the attic.” You say and it excites something in Yunho judging by the creepy smirk on his lips.

“Attics scare me!” Claire says, her voice shrieking with fear of the darkness.

“What doesn't scare you Claire?” Kevin says in a monotone as he turns his head in her direction.

“Him!” Claire points in Yunho's direction at which you can't help but sigh.

“Flirt somewhere else, lovebirds. We got shit to do.” You roll your eyes then go back to thinking about what to say next.

“How are you going to communicate?” Yunho asks, giving you his starry puppy eyes and you can't help but gulp nervously. What is he even trying to do?

“Well, I have a perfect device for that.” You say, distracting yourself from the tall and beautiful blonde beside you with a bright ass smile.

“Where?” Claire asks as if she's looking for something and fails to find it.

“Our friendship bracelets. They work with a higher bandwidth of 7GHz.” You say, pointing at the bracelet on Claire's wrist.

“7g WiFi?” Claire exclaims and you hear an audible sigh from Kevin, at which Yunho giggles and earns a glare.

“Yeah kinda like that.....i guess.” you mumble under your breath.

“Yunho doesn't have one, though?” Someone asks while your mind pulls you in a trance and you start to zone out.

“He does.” You say, almost mumbles as you start to slip into the fever dream.

“He DOES?”  They yell. 

AT THE MANOR

“You know what to do. On the signal, disperse. It's two taps, distinct and repeating 3 times. If anything goes down, the distress signal is continuous tapping. Light the flare ONLY if its a fucking emergency, and if we need to abort the mission.” You yell as low as possible while they listen to you attentively. 

“Yes sir!” Everyone shouts, tightening the strap of their backpack of supplies.

“Remember to mark your way up to the second floor. People get lost there.” You say and everyone exchanges confused looks. “It's a spell.” You remind them and they nod their heads. “Now, go. Meet you at the library!”

According to the plan, you and Yunho go through the back gate while Claire and Kevin from the front gate. The sound of the rusted iron screeching when Kevin pushes the gate echoes around the Manor and you curse under your breath. 

The way up to the first floor had been easy, then after the signal from the other team gave clearance, you decided to head to the second floor alone bidding Yunho a goodbye. It had been strange for a while, walking down the eerie, empty hallway with the feeling of something watching you the whole time. 

You stand in the middle of the never ending hallway, a ghostly whisper greets your ear and sends shivers down your spine. 

What in the fucking hell?? 

There's a ghostly touch on your arm, ice cold as it traces its finger down your warm skin. When you turn to face the monster, there's no one behind you. Then you feel it, a looming shadow over your shoulder but when you turn again, it's gone. 

So, you walk on because standing still is more dangerous. You choose to run when you see a pale face in the middle of the corridor grinning wildly at you which sends terror down your body. Your heart beats at an amazing speed as your breath shortens, adrenaline running through your body which initiates the flight mechanism because there is no way you're dealing with that demonic thing in this haunted mansion. 

“I've been searching for you for so long.” A voice echoes in the hallway or is it your brain playing tricks on you. Luckily you find the stairway leading to the second floor and run towards it but things take a turn when you realise, it is a trap. 

“I thought you were a smart girl.” The sinister voice echoes in your mind again as you walk away from the door that shut itself only to bump into something hard. Turning around you come to see the very pale face you had seen in the hallway but very clearly now. 

The man stands in front of you in his full glory, the navy uniform and wounds from the battle still decorating his lifeless body. “You traitor!” You feel a sharp pain in your chest and you look down to see a dagger pressed to your heart. “You'll repay the blood we shed that night, you vampire.” Everything goes black when he twists the knife and the last thing you see is a scared yunho trying to save you.