✮⋆˙ kit

20. she/they. hell yes!

[kitschiekit]

made in heaven !

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 — kit. 20. she/they. annie leonheart, claire redfield, jinx, and mel king enthusiast. lover of pink, the beach, nerd gummy clusters, dr pepper, and 2000’s punk. december baby. pretty odd.

currently listening to : tourniquet by evanescence

✮⋆˙ masterlist / ✮⋆˙ request page / ✮⋆˙ most recent work

[kitschiekit]

just finished queen of nothing from the folk of the air series prepared to be sick of me.

[beolh]

a man after my own heart

[cykelops]

I have had a lot of evil people say to me that nothing taste as good as skinny feels and every time im like no im pretty sure food tastes really super good actually

[wreniriis]

Sometimes I try to imagine what my life would be like if he hadn’t died

[ffuelz]

wee woo wee woo

[irotbeautifully]

ik that mac eyeliner was taking over his ass like the symbiote

[winnie-daze]

Forgot to share this here as well lolol

[skelesass]

she got me in a chokehold today

[revilladies]

Claire Redfield in Resident Evil: Infinite Darkness (2021)

[carolsturka]

[klaart]

Leon you seeing this?-- oh wait here 🫴👓

[kitschiekit]

re2 leon and re7 ethan winters are spiritually the same. not even in a reheating nachos kind of way they are just made of the same soul dust

[kitschiekit]

— drive me home | ethan winters

summary: after a rough day at work, you get drunk at a bar with friends. when most of your friends leave, ethan winters—who you never really paid attention to—stays to ensure you get home safe.

warnings: alcohol, reader’s friends do leave her alone, reader is flirty, no use of y/n

note: this is not incredibly well written because i just needed to write something cute with ethan winters (missing him like a motherfucker 🚬) also, my requests are open!

wc: 1.6k

You really hadn’t meant to get so drunk. It’s just, with the day you’d had at work—complete with getting caught in the rain on the walk there, which meant you were stuck in wet clothes for most of the day, as well as forgetting your lunch on the kitchen counter, and then your coworker had to leave for a family emergency, and you were left to finish their share of work—you really, really needed this. Just one night out, you told yourself. Just a few drinks with your friends.

A few turned into too many, and before you knew it, you were shitfaced on a Friday night at the busiest bar this side of town. Most of your friends had tapped out around drink five, citing plans in the morning or fatigue from the work day. You’d been sad to see them go, but you didn’t take them up on their offer to take you home. This bar was your him, as far as you were concerned, and if you could still remember the soaking wet chill of that morning, you weren’t ready to leave.

Your group dwindled from seven to four, then four to three, then three to two. Soon enough, it was just you and Ethan in a corner booth, with water in his hand and your poison of choice on the table in front of you.

You didn’t know Ethan very well—he was a friend of a friend, dragged out by his roommate to “get laid”. At least, that’s what your roommate leaned over and murmured to you when he walked in and claimed a seat next to you. You’d never paid much attention to him before—in what world is dating a blonde man a good idea, you’d once joked—but under the dim lights, he looked pretty.

His blonde hair was a little tousled, most likely from the winds that had persisted long after the rain had stopped, and when he greeted the group, his cheeks were rosy. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, laughing nervously at his roommate’s encouragement to go mingle. He had sat down right next to you, comfortable close enough to feel his warmth. You stared, too many drinks in to hide your attraction.

When your friends started filing out—your roommate had gone home with some handsome stranger with an eyebrow piercing and brown leather jacket, good for her—he stayed.

“Are you sure you want another?” He asked, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him speak. He wasn’t shy, not really, but he seemed content to let his roommate do the talking. He blended in with the group at events like this, or at least he had, before tonight.

You shrugged, resting your cheek on your palm and swirling your drink around. “How many… will that be?”

“You’re at seven, I think. Pretty impressive,” he smiled. “You don’t normally drink so much.”

“You pay attention to how much I drink?” You hiccupped, leveling him with a teasingly accusatory pointer finger. “Prett-y creepy.”

He blushed a little, and you giggled when you spotted it. You felt warm, and loose, and free, under the influence of alcohol and Ethan’s soft gaze.

“I’m observant,” he said, setting his water on the table. “And you’re easy to observe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You huffed, nudging his boot with your sensible heel. “I’m an open book, or somethin’?”

Ethan shook his head. “No, I just… no, nothing like that.”

Your brow furrowed,, and you took a swig of your drink before looking at him again. “So what? You like lookin’ at me?”

He looked away, fidgeting with his water glass. “Yeah, I guess.”

You sat up fast, and regretted it because the room spins a little too fast, and now you’re nauseous. When finally you stamped down the urge to gag, you nudged his boot again.

“Really? You think I’m, what? Preeeetty?” You sing-songed, wiggling in your seat.

He stifled a laugh when you faltered, clutching the edge of the table for balance.

“Something like that, sweetheart,” he said, taking your drink away. “I think you may need to be cut off.”

You whined, reaching for the drink back, but gave up halfway, too tired and dizzy to attempt a rescue mission. You dropped your head onto his shoulder, looking up at him with a pout.

Maybe it’s because he knew you probably wouldn’t remember it tomorrow, but he didn’t try to hold back his affectionate look, or his ruffle of your mussed hair.

“Why don’t I drive you home?” Ethan whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your bare arm.

You shivered, and he must take it to mean you were cold, because he shrugged off his jacket and draped it across your back.

You didn’t answer, so he tried again. “Hm? That sound okay, sweetheart? You’ll be much more comfortable in your own bed.”

You nodded, nosing at his shoulder. You were fading fast.

“Okay, let’s get going then,” he murmured, helping you up and offering you a hand—for balance, the rational part of you said, like it mattered. His hand was slightly calloused, and his thumb swept over your knuckles as he led you out to his car.

Ethan opened the passenger door, herding you into the seat. When you were safely in, knobby drunk limbs and all, he leaned down, fastening the seatbelt across you. Your heart drummed in your ears when his fingers brushed your side.

Once he was in the driver’s seat, he handed his phone to you. “Type in your address, sweetheart.”

You obeyed, albeit clumsily, and handed it back to him. Your head lolled to the side, resting against the seatbelt as he pulled out of the parking lot.

The drive was a blur of streetlights in the night and the soft acoustic music of whatever was on the radio. Too soon, he pulled into your driveway.

He opened your door for you, offering his hand again, which you gladly took. “Can I have your key?”

“Trying to stay the night?” You slurred, bumping his hip with yours.

He laughed, bumping your hip right back. “No, sweetheart,” he said. “Just gonna get you tucked in safe.”

You nodded, fumbling around in your purse for your key and handing it to him. He unlocked the door, leading you inside the doorway.

Ethan guided you to lean against the wall, bending down to unclasp your heels. You lost your balance when the first one came off, and he grabbed your waist to stabilize you before taking the other off.

“You’re okay,” he said, righting himself and putting his arm around you. “Let’s just take it slow. Which way to your bedroom?”

You pointed to your door, and he helped you walk to it, bumping the slightly ajar door open. You collapsed on your messed bed, sighing exaggeratedly. It’s so comfortable, you almost fell asleep right here…

Ethan smoothed a hand over your hair. “Let’s get you under the covers, yeah?”

You made no move to comply, instead whining softly and looking at him pleadingly.

“Okay, sweetheart, I get it,” he laughed, gathering you up in his arms and lifting. You squeaked, one hand fisted in his shirt, and he only shushed you. “I’m not gonna drop you.”

He set you down gently on the bed, pulling the sheets and comforter over you gently. “See? Much better.”

You hummed, already falling asleep.

“Rest,” he murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear.

Before you know it, you’re out.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of keys in the front door. You tried to ignore it, but your roommate called out for you, and you decided it’s time to greet the day.

Your head was killing you. You stumbled out of your room, meeting your roommate in the kitchen. “God, it’s so bright. And so early. And I drank way too much.”

Your roommate groaned. “Tell me about it,” she shook her head, opening the fridge and getting out the orange juice. “Did you get home okay last night? You were kinda wasted. I didn’t realize how plastered you were until I sobered up. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Don’t feel bad about that. It was my own fault,” you said, rubbing your temple. “I got home…”

How did you get home? You remembered your roommate leaving, the. your other friends had gotten an Uber, and you…

“You got home, what? You’re being mysterious,” your roommate teased. “Don’t tell me if you don’t want to. Keep your secrets.”

You rolled your eyes, taking the cup of orange juice she held out to you.

“Oh! What ended up happening with Ethan? Did he go home with anyone? Matteo was really trying to get him to meet someone.”

You remembered, in a flash, Ethan’s jacket draped over your shoulders in the bar, his hand in your hair, his fingers brushing your waist as he buckled you in…

You bit your lip. “About Ethan… do you have his number?”

Your roommate’s eyes lit up. “No way.”

“Forget I asked,” you groaned, getting up from the kitchen barstool.

“No, no, wait,” your roommate grabbed your arm. “I have it. I’ll text it to you.”

You didn't have the courage to text him until later that night, after your roommate had dragged you into watching some trash reality show while you ate dinner. As soon as you shut the door to your room, you opened your messages and typed in his number.

Is this Ethan?

Thanks for taking me home last night.

You held your breath.

No problem. You don’t have to thank me for that.

You bit back a smile.

Well, I did. Deal with it.

Would you want to get dinner sometime?

If I misread the situation, just ignore me.

The response was immediate.

I’d love to, sweetheart.

[kitschiekit]

what do we think resident evil characters’ enneagrams are? i know people say ethan is a type 6 (which is my enneagram!) but i feel like he might actually be a 2? i think claire would possibly be an 8. i’d love to know what your opinions are about literally any character in the franchise i love enneagrams so much

[love-quinn]

healing elixir with Trinity my love <3

oh my lovely cas ty for requesting, i hope you enjoy!! trinity santos x fem!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw mentions of reader being bullied by her coworkers, background platonic whitaker x reader/santos <3 1.4k words

1.5k follower fairy garden party celebration ⋆˚ʚɞ you're invited!

Trinity's touch is gentle against your hairline. Physically affectionate your girlfriend is not, much preferring to coexist closely with you on the sofa than to be caught enjoying your company.

Your head is in her lap, looking directly up at her. Your legs are bridged at the knee and resting against the back of the couch only to avoid spreading out over Dennis's spot. He's not here currently; Trinity assured you that he's on the split shift, whatever that is, so he won't be home for another couple of hours. Trinity had shed her scrub top immediately upon entering her apartment (it's hanging over the back of the sofa, you know it drives Dennis crazy) but she's still got on the white tank top she'd had underneath it as well as her scrub pants. You're also half dressed from work, courtesy of her wandering hands; you're wearing a long skirt but your tights have been tugged down your legs and Trinity had conjured up a sleep shirt for you to replace your pretty blouse with.

A Survivor rerun is playing on the tv and her hands are stroking the planes of your face. Trimmed pinkie nail dragging over the slope of your nose, feather-light pressure over your cheeks and forehead, a callous on her thumb on the edge of your jaw. Her touch is as kind as you've ever known.

Her words are less so.

"What an asshole," she's muttering, frown filled with such vitriol you can't fathom that he's not angry with you. "Who does he think he is, speaking to you that way?"

"I think he was just having a bad day," you say dreamily. You don't even mean it, really, but your eyes hurt from crying and you already feel so silly. How can you be thinking of your new coworker when your girlfriend is touching you so reverently.

Trinity huffs, thumb pausing at your jaw just long enough to press a possessive spot into your jaw. "Poor guy tripped and fell into being a dick."

There's a bite to it that's dry in a way that usually makes other people bristle. Her fingers card through your hair like she's memorising the shape of your skull.

You let out a weak laugh despite yourself, eyes trained on her face while she stares blankly at the TV. "Trinity..."

"Don't make an excuse for him," she rolls her eyes. Trinity's hand stills, fingertips pressed into your cheeks as she tilts her head to look down at you. "It's embarrassing."

It should sting. It does - a little. But there's something under it, sharp and steady, the way her thumb shifts ever so slightly to the spot under your eye where she'd had to wipe your tears. "He talked down to you in front of other people, yeah?" She checks.

You don't answer.

She strokes your hairline gently. You feel hot in the chest and cold in the skin, awfully silly for making such a big deal. Your girlfriend finished a thirteen hour shift in the ER and when she went to pick you up from work and found you in the parking lot crying because a man called you incompetent.

You lift a hand to splay across her thigh and she laces her fingers with yours with her spare hand. It's a rare kind of elation you've never felt with any of the other girls you've dated; the white hot anger she feels on your behalf that softens in your embrace into a warmth you sink into.

"You could come work at the hospital," she says, almost offhand. "We're always looking for people to work at the front desk." It'd probably be a step up from your current reception job.

You snicker. "Yeah, I'd bet you would love that."

She looks down at you. Trinity is not the type of girl to outright admit to you that she would like it if you'd come to work with her, but that doesn't stop the flush that takes over her face at your words. You sit up and she lets her hands drop in her lap.

"Oh, whatever," she snarks, immediately moving to be close to you again. You turn on the sofa to face you, beaming smile on her face. "Do whatever you want."

You press a delighted kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I love you," you say gleefully.

Trinity doesn't respond, instead grabbing you by the waist and tugging you closer to herself again. "Come lay on me," she says instead. "I wanna watch who wins." When her hands come back up to your face her touch is somehow softer than before.

[kitschiekit]

masterlist by character

note : there is a separate masterlist for texts, linked here!

claire redfield

— nothing yet!

leon kennedy

— nothing yet!

ethan winters

drive me home — 1.6k, fluff

andrew 'pope' cody

— nothing yet!

jinx

— nothing yet!

caitlyn kiramman

— nothing yet!

vi

— nothing yet!

remus lupin

— nothing yet!

sirius black

— nothing yet!

james potter

— nothing yet!

frank langdon

— nothing yet!

michael 'robby’ robinavitch

— nothing yet!

jack abbot

— nothing yet!

melissa "mel' king

— nothing yet!

trinity santos

— nothing yet!

parker ellis

— nothing yet!

spencer reid

— nothing yet!

annie leonhart

— nothing yet!

jean kirschtein

— nothing yet!

levi ackerman

— nothing yet!