#Anna x reader

[devoted-horror]

giving the new survivor hatch.

a/n: this is my first time writing for dbd in general, so!! i hope i do this game justice bc i play it every day lol

includes: the huntress, the trickster, the ghostface, the artist, the cannibal.

warnings: not proofread, typical dbd stuff like blood, mentions of murder, things like that, gn reader, love at first sight but only if u tilt ur head and squint really hard, inconsistent length, im going to be so delusional over jiwoon im sorry, i can't speak russian or korean so i just used a bunch of translators sorry if i got smth wrong, inaccurate behavior of dbd crows but relatively accurate behavior of irl crows i think, scream reference in danny's part bc i had to, reader injury in jiwoon and danny's parts, written over the course of a few months so sorry if the pacing is weird.

THE HUNTRESS

Anna has been in the fog long enough that every face of everyone she's ever killed has started to merge together into one. She doesn't know their names, and hardly ever reacts whenever she encounters a new survivor.

Mercy is not something she shows during trials. She is a hunter, and anyone who crosses her path, be it man or animal, is her prey. Nothing in the wild is merciful.

And you were nothing more than another person for her to hunt, prey for her to kill. And trust me, she was going to kill you.

Or, at least, she was.

And then you dropped a pallet on her. Now, normally, Anna would get very angry when this happens. Her prey is fighting back, and though it gives her a thrill, it's annoying. And for a brief moment, she did feel angry the moment the pallet hit her.

But then you were apologizing, a look of genuine guilt on your expression. You even asked if she was bleeding. Your survival instincts were lacking, clearly, but Anna found that to be... oddly endearing??

She felt a surge of protectiveness spark within her, something she had never felt during her time here. It was a familiar feeling, yet one so foreign at the same time.

But how could she not feel such a way when you were staring up at her, clearly scared that she was going to hurt you yet brave enough to stand in front of her and apologize for something that, by all means, you should have done.

Anna just stares you down for a long moment, having an internal struggle with herself on what she should do with you. Ultimately, her need to protect overruled her need to hunt, because after breaking the pallet between the two of you, she made a gesture for you to follow her.

And, not wanting to die, you did.

She took you to a shack, something you've heard other survivors refer to as the killer shack. The only reason you knew this is because you were told to stay away from it unless you wanted to get put in the basement.

She just pointed to one of the corners of the building, and looked over at you, "Оставайся здесь." And you didn't immediately understand her, though you were quick to pick up on what she was telling you. It seemed as if she wanted you to stay here.

Your safest bet on surviving was doing what she said, so you just nod and awkwardly place yourself in the corner she had been pointing at. She doesn't spare you another glance as she leaves you alone.

You're not sure how long you stayed there. You could hear the other survivors screams though, and you felt sick to your stomach at the sound of them being hooked and sacrificed to the Entity. They probably won't be too happy about this the next time you see them...

It was only when you were the last one standing that Anna came back to retrieve you. She found you exactly where she had left you, and even though you couldn't see her face due to the rabbit mask, she seemed rather pleased that you had actually listened to her.

If she had it her way, Anna would keep you by her side. Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. The Entity would probably force the trial to end if you didn't either escape or die.

She begrudgingly brought you to hatch, the black mist pouring from it, silently promising safety if you jumped into it. You stared at it, confused about what it was, and that protectiveness she was feeling only seemed to grow stronger when you looked up at her for an explanation. The only explanation she offered was a slight gesture to you, and then the hatch.

"Иди, кролик." She says, lightly pushing you to the hatch and watching as you hesitantly decide to trust her, jumping into the hatch and leaving her alone as the fog comes and places her back in the Red Forest.

If she's lucky, she'll be in a trial with you again soon.

THE TRICKSTER

He'll immediately recognize you to be new. He prides himself in recognizing every survivor he's encountered, either by their face or by the sound of their screams. Mostly their screams.

And he certainly didn't recognize the scream he heard when one of his throwing knives ricocheted and hit you while he was chasing down another one of the newer survivors; Sable. It was a small, startled scream, nothing worth his attention, but it was new. That was enough to make this trial more exciting, and he found himself keeping his eyes peeled for you.

Which... was a lot easier than he expected it to be, because you just kept running right into him. Seriously. Did you not pay attention to your surroundings? Do you think he's a survivor?? Do you not see the bloodied fucking bat he's holding???

He's not sure if he's annoyed or amused by this. Partially both, to be honest. It's amusing to see you relax for a split second after bumping into him, not recognizing him to be the killer immediately. It's annoying because he'd like to hear you scream, please and thank you.

Jiwoon doesn't necessarily target you during the trial. To be honest, he's trying to weed out the other survivors before focusing his attention on you.

He wanted to take his time with you, to see what sounds he could pull out of you before the Entity forced the trial to end. Just the sound of you gasping whenever you bump into him has his mind racing.

This was honestly enough to keep him motivated throughout the entire trial, a certain bloodlust sparking in him. He relished the sound of everyone else's screams, but they weren't appealing to him right now.

He needed the other survivors out of the way. He needed you alone. And when he finally got rid of the last pesky survivor, the fun began.

And when he corners you in killer shack, he really didn't plan on being merciful. He wanted to hear you scream, and then he wanted to kill you, really. That was his plan.

The only way you'd get out of this alive is if you beg, honestly. And I mean beg. On your knees, crying, pleading, offering something in return for your survival. That sort of begging.

You were new and shiny in comparison to all of the other survivors, and maybe it's because he's a sadistic bastard, but he really does adore the sight of you on your knees, crying as he absently nicks your skin with one of his throwing knives.

This is where Jiwoon feels a bit torn, truth be told. He's never been a patient man, so he wants to get as many screams out of you as he can before the Entity forced the trial to end. But at the same time, he knew he'd see you again in a future trial, sooner or later.

It wouldn't hurt to prolong his time with you, would it?

The entire time he's pondering this, he's dragging the blade across your skin, relishing in the sweet sounds of your gasps and whimpers, and you stutter out a desperate 'please'.

Ultimately, Jiwoon decides to be nice, just this once. He'll mutter a quiet, "짜증나..." before hoisting you over his shoulder and carrying you off.

You struggled, obviously, assuming he was ending your misery and taking you to a hook. He didn't really mind much, having an iron grasp on you that kept you from wiggling free.

He dropped you right next to the hatch once he found it, finding your small pained sound to be adorable as you look at your salvation with a confused expression. But before you can crawl into it and escape, he's grabbing you by the back of your shirt and pulling you back a bit.

For a moment, you think he's going to kill you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, expecting pain. But nothing comes. You feel him tuck something in your shirt, and he lightly pats your cheek, cooing a bit at your terror before he lets you go and leaves you alone.

And when you're back at the campfire, you find a photo of Jiwoon neatly folded and tucked into your shirt, signed with his autograph.

He'll have an encore the next time he sees you, and you can only hope you don't find yourself in a trial with him again any time soon.

THE GHOSTFACE

Would actually never give you hatch under normal circumstances. He's here to kill, so kill he shall. He treated you the same as any other survivor when he first saw you, though it wasn't until he was in chase with you that he realized how interesting you were.

For one, you were... surprisingly good at looping him?? For a newbie, he was rather impressed. That's not enough to get him to let you live, but it's definitely a start.

No, his interest is only truly piqued when you start quoting horror movies during chase.

Honestly, if he didn't know any better, he'd think you to be flirting with him. A person after his heart, truly.

It was only when he had you cornered that you really caught his attention. You weren't scared, and it intrigued him as much as it annoyed him.

He was just itching to dig his knife into you and take a photo of your lifeless corpse once he was finished. But even with your life at risk, you showed no fear.

Hell, you even mocked him.

"No, please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel."

Sure, you weren't the first survivor to mock him, and you certainly won't be the last, but he found you interesting.

Oh, he needed to kill you. He needed your photo in his collection, it would be his favorite.

But he thought it would be more fun to humor you. Danny was a patient man. This isn't the first time he's drawn out a kill.

You were honestly surprised that he had left you alone. You didn't think that would actually work, and you were... a bit concerned, actually. None of the other killers you had ended up in a trial with during your short time here has entertained you the way Danny has, and you're not sure if you should be scared or not.

And, much to your very hesitant relief, you didn't see him for the rest of the trial. You knew he was watching you though. Every once in a while, you just felt... you're not quite sure how to describe it, but it almost felt as if you were being hunted.

You'd see him from the corner of your eye though. Never for long, just quick flashes of his screaming mask. Honestly, you felt less scared when he was actively trying to murder you.

That's how the rest of the trial went for you, at least. Until eventually, you were the only one left standing. You may be new, but the other survivors had given you the rundown of what to do if you were the last one standing before the trial had started.

You had to find hatch. Which was... easier said than done, truthfully. Especially since you weren't sure where the fuck Danny was. There's no way he was letting you go, right? He's probably saving you for last, right?

Whenever you so much as caught a glimpse of something moving, you were scurrying in the other direction.

This is pretty much Danny's way of giving you hatch. There's no way he'd give it to you directly, not yet.

You had honestly thought you had found it all by yourself until you were fucking stabbed, the flash of a camera in your face blinding you.

Truth be told, Danny did plan on killing you. He had wanted to give you a false sense of hope. But your stupid little smile when you saw hatch got to him, okay? So he'll settle for this for now.

"You owe me."

And he doesn't even spare you a glance as he pushes you into the hatch's mist, his gaze intently focused on the photo of you he had just taken.

Unfortunately for you, you've caught his attention.

THE ARTIST

Carmina is one of the more merciful killers you may come across, so she'd be fairly likely to give a new survivor hatch depending on how the trial has gone and whether or not she's consumed by anger.

She only realizes that you're new to the fog when her crows surround you and you don't try shooing them away. When she finds you, you're actually... rather content having a murder of crows surrounding you.

Very very confused. She'll probably just stare at you for a hot second as you go about the trial without a single care for the crows swarming around you. Even the crows are confused.

You distract her long enough with your antics that a good chunk of the gens pop, and she had to force herself to leave you be in order to focus on hunting the other survivors.

She'll ignore you for the entire trial after she leaves you be. Her crows can keep watch for her.

So for the rest of the trial she's only vaguely aware of your location, occasionally stopping once in a while to determine whether or not her crows were still with you. They were.

Even the other survivors seemed confused by your behavior.

On the rare occasion that she bumped into you during the trial, it was always when another survivor was nearby trying to tell you how to get rid of the crows.

You never even tried to shoo away the crows throughout the entire trial, and at some point, they stopped swarming around you. They didn't go away, no. You, somehow, managed to tame Carmina's crows with little trinkets that you found littered across the place.

Honestly, the crows seemed to like you enough that even if Carmina told them to hurt you, they probably wouldn't listen to her. It's hard to believe that you were a new survivor with how calm you were about everything happening.

It's probably that calm nature, coupled with your ability to calm her crows, that solidified in her mind that you were the only one who would make it out alive.

And with a newfound determination, Carmina sacrificed the other three survivors with no issues, and she could hear hatch opening not too far away from her.

With the help of her crows, Carmina was able to easily bring you to hatch, and she could only tilt her head to the side and make a small, croaking sound as you smiled and thanked both her and her crows before jumping into the hatch.

This is one of the many moments Carmina laments no longer being able to create art. She'd love to immortalize the image of you smiling at her, surrounded by her crows.

THE CANNIBAL

Bubba is honestly torn when he spots you, because you look so afraid, cowering in fear at every little sound and struggling to repair a generator like the others had told you to. He understands your fear because it's something he's very familiar with.

And while he has a job to do, not wanting to disappoint the Entity, he can't help but find it hard to hurt you. No matter how hard it was, Bubba had no choice.

But when he approached you, you didn't run. Sure, you let out a startled shout, the generator blowing up in your face as you stared up at him like a scared animal, quietly begging him not to hurt you.

But you didn't run.

How could he hurt you when you weren't running from him? Everyone always ran. But not you. You weren't running from him, and he didn't know what to do about that.

Bubba's trouble was so very evident. He's always been an expressive person, so it wasn't hard to tell that this was stressing him out. His free hand kept clenching and unclenching his apron, and he kept making small noises in the back of his throat.

He doesn't want to disappoint the Entity, he doesn't. But he's not sure if he can hurt someone who's not running from him. You aren't running! He really likes that! The only people who never ran when he was around were his family!

The nail in the coffin is when you, even despite your fear, took a chance and set down the toolbox you were holding. You... you gave him a gift. Not one that he could use, but a gift nonetheless.

There was literally no way he could hurt you now the guilt would eat him alive. So, he just opts to leave you be to instead focus on the other survivors. He wouldn't feel guilty hurting them.

The entire trial, Bubba focuses all of his attention on getting rid of the other survivors. If he sees you, he gets all nervous and can't even look at you for long without babbling incoherently before scurrying away.

Some of the other survivors may pick up on Bubba's strange avoidment of you, and may even use that to their advantage by running by you in chase because Bubba just... he can't hurt you, I'm sorry.

He's swinging his chainsaw, and then suddenly Kate is running by you and he's coming to a full stop out of fear of accidentally hurting you.

It really stresses him out, and even though you're still scared of him, and even though he's supposed to be killing you, you can't help but feel bad. So whenever the other survivors got a little too close when Bubba was chasing them, you always made sure to stay out of his way.

It's okay to be a bad teammate because it's Bubba.

Jokes aside, Bubba takes his job as a killer very seriously. He may avoid hurting you, but he makes quick work of the other survivors.

And when hatch opened right next to Bubba after killing the third survivor, he took it as a sign from the Entity that he was meant to give it to you. Why else would it open next to him?

Bubba was ever the gentleman when he brought you to hatch, guiding you to it carefully and making sure you didn't trip on any debris littered across the area.

He even scared off a few judgmental crows! He knew how off-putting it was to have them watching you all the time, especially when you're new in the fog.

And when you quietly thank him, smiling at him as if he weren't a killer, Bubba was just over the moon.

It's been so long since he's had someone to protect. The fog is a scary place to be but he'll do his best to make it a happy place whenever you two are in a trial together.

Оставайся здесь. - Stay here. Иди, кролик. - Go, rabbit. 짜증나. - How annoying.

[rippersz]

𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Zombie Apocalypse AU w/ Gwendoline Christie characters; (~9.2K words)

(Featuring: Larissa Weems, Brienne of Tarth, Jane Murdstone, Anna from WTM, Lucifer Morningstar, Miranda Hilmarson, Captain Phasma, and Jan Stevens) x Reader

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It started about two months ago. Russia went down first, then Mongolia. China. India. And in the midst, Finland, Sweden, Norway, the United Kingdom, down to the very southern tip of Africa. The Ocean is no killer of disease, frozen or not, and encouraged it to ravage South and North America, then Canada and Greenland. Until every place was overrun by dead freaks. Stinking corpses and moving gore. 

They traveled in herds, packs, whatever it was that people wanted to call them—murders, perhaps—and shuffled aimlessly across any land they could find. Eager for food, for sustenance, to fill the empty bellies that would never be full. Gorging themselves on creatures like you. 

Officially ‘the other’. Officially ‘the enemy’. The sole survivor of a good group that was attacked some days ago because an idiot forgot to shoot one of the creatures in the head. And by sunrise, it was over. Screams echoed into the silence and you soon found yourself alone… running for your life with a duffle bag over your shoulder (slowing you down) and a gun in your hand (low on ammo). Trekking through thick woods in a heavily-infested Vermont town was not a good idea, but you had no choice. The house you were camping in was left behind, ravaged by bullets that you put into your friend’s heads, and every other spot nearby had been looted. You couldn’t move all of those bodies yourself. You couldn’t do much yourself. There was no army background attached to your name, no conspiracy theorist survival-obsessed gene in your body, and not much training in fighting either. All you could do was run. Run and run and run until you were miles away and your lungs started to burn. Not the most useful skill considering most people could run, but if you were quick enough to speed past the shuffling bastards, you were quick enough to make it to safety. 

—

Safety…what a joke. A shit joke. A joke that was, quite honestly, the worst joke to ever exist. There was no safety. No place, nowhere. You’d been walking for a few hours, hearing nothing but the forest’s silence, and stumbling over leaves and branches. They ravaged the animals, took them into their mouths like they were people, and ate until there was nothing left. Not even a squirrel, or a fox, and the birds had grown weary of the vast number of hunters (both dead and undead) that found themselves in the woods looking for food. So no birds either. And no houses. And you were pretty sure, as you paused to catch your breath, that you were doomed. 

Only a few bullets left and your aim was never perfect. One knife tucked into your waistband but it was getting uncomfortable, digging into your skin, and caked in blood. Creature blood. Everything smelled horrible. Like burning flesh or dirty meat, raw and soiled. You probably didn’t smell too good either. It wasn’t like the world still worked without the people; only a few places had running water and you couldn’t trust the creeks and rivers. The undead enjoyed walking through shallow water, knowing somehow that there’d probably be prey nearby. 

But you hadn’t seen anything in a while. A long while. A suspiciously long while... 

Everything was green and brown around you, whisked by wind and soil, and you stood out like blood against snow. The last thing you saw was yesterday. Ever since? Not a single flash of undead flesh. 

You swallowed, throat embarrassingly dry, and tapped your fingers against your thigh. 

It wasn’t good when everything was still. You were vulnerable, out in the open, and without a good few rounds of bullets to spare. Every muscle and organ in your body screamed for mercy, crying with the effort it took to keep surviving even when you didn’t want to. 

You thought about it a few times; gave the gun in your hand a long look on several occasions, but ultimately decided that ‘opting out’ was only a last resort. Somehow, even amidst the chaos and hatred and swill of humanity’s nature, you managed to hold hope. And often wondered where it would get you. How it would get you. While you were sleeping? While you were already wounded? Fighting off the hands of a loved one? The twist of hope’s rope… would you feel it closing in around your neck? A literal metaphor for the eventual death you’d experience? 

Thinking about it gave you a headache. 

For where was the point in wondering? 

You had no one else. Whatever form of death awaited, it would end up being your fault. Probably because you couldn’t run fast enough. Probably because- 

Because-

Wait. 

Somewhere behind you, on the right, was a low sound. A hum. The smooth whoosh of something quick. The parting of wind… the low growl of… 

“Fuck.” 

You shot off in that direction, bag smacking against your shoulder blades, and instantly felt the exhaustion pull at your body again. It lingered like a plague, like the undead disease, and you yearned to fall to your knees - to give in - but it wasn’t the time for that. You had to at least try. You had to at least make it over the hill. Right over the hill. So close but so far. You leaned forward, threw yourself at the ground, and grasped onto gnarled tree roots. The Earth smelled wet with decay, sweet with promise - you huffed against dry leaves. They crunched and scratched at your fingers, eventually crinkling into nothing when your arms worked to drag you up. You probably looked a little mad, scrambling up a steep hill to reach something that probably won’t save you, but there was no other option. The hum grew louder, the quiet was broken, and you only had a few moments to get this right. 

“Help!” Your lungs caved around your scream, but the forest swallowed it instantly. Greedy trees with their greedy barks, wanting to keep you hidden from salvation. The hum grew louder. Your fingers grew clammy, sweating and slipping against rough wood. 

You’d be bruised to high heaven later, and probably exhausted, but the hum and the growl of an engine meant a road and a road meant civilization and goddammit you just needed to get over the stupid fucking hill. 

There was a loud ringing in your ears, nearly deafening, and making your voice sound fuzzy. 

“Help! Help!”

Was that you? Were you the one screaming like that? Why couldn’t you be quiet? Those things could have been lurking… wandering nearby… coming up behind you, eager to grasp at your ankles and drag you back down to Hell. 

A glance back over your shoulder, aching from the duffle bag, found nothing but blurred terrain and darkened leaves–a symptom of the setting sun. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If the light went out, you’d be screwed. You couldn’t use the last of your matches and the world went black when evening struck. So there really was no choice. As the growl turned into a roar… there was no choice. Just a little higher- a little more. Your arms pushed, biceps straining against the cotton of your shirt, and your pants threatened to get caught on wayward sticks and tear into rags. The boots on your feet pressed hard against loose rocks, kicking them out of place, and gained just enough ground to push you up - over the ridge. The final stretch. Your chest pushed to the hard dirt and forced a grunt of effort from your tired body; the sound echoed through the woods, through the ground, and through the air that sat above the concrete road in front of you. Hard and vast, grey and long… you looked at it as though it were the holiest of grails, lying just beside it with your arms outstretched, your fingers still pulling at dirtied grass. Soil covered your skin, masked your features, caked beneath your fingernails, and when the roar of the speeding vehicle grew so close you had to close your eyes and wince, you knew raising a hand for help would not be enough. In the shade of the forest’s edge, half draped over the peak of the hill, you were inhuman to other survivors. Your dry mouth opened, your throat croaked, and your legs moved to push you up–closer–just short of the wind that caressed your hair when the car, the truck, ran past you with no second glance. You looked after it, watched it pass, and felt the burn in your heart grow into its own inferno. It licked at your insides, at your desperation, and had you hauling the duffle bag off of your shoulder and out onto the road. It rolled, a shuffling sound, and you followed after it with deep growls of effort and dwindling strength. 

“Please,” you wheezed, panting for breath as soon as you staggered up to your feet. 

In the distance, the car turned into a disappearing black spec. It drove and drove, out of sight, and you stood there, putting your arms in the air to wave it down and bring it back. To beckon it back. To beg and plead.

“Please please no-,” your voice was soft, weakened by days of rugged survival, “no…” rough and lost to the wind, it dissipated into nothing and you were forced to swallow again.  

The thick smell of car exhaust settled against the steaming road. You watched the horizon, tracking the space in the atmosphere where the gold traced into a deep blue, and felt your bones quake beneath your skin. Their final cry. The last hurrah as you watched your future, the tatters of it, drive away from you. 

Too late. 

You were too late. 

And you’d die there, on that road, and they may never come back and find you again in the morning. And your corpse would be chewed upon by undead bastards who would never give you a proper burial. And you’d be just another stupid human that found themselves trampled beneath the stinking feet of the walking dead. 

Tears teased your eyes, burning the dry lands of your irises, and you felt the heart in your chest lurch against its cage. 

 Too late. 

You were too late. 

You had a duffle bag, a handgun somewhere off to the side, and the clothing on your back. One lasting water bottle, the knife you felt poking your side, and small bags of food that wouldn’t last you long at all. The tent, too, was destroyed by animals the night before. The most you could go was perhaps one more day, but your feet were aching so terribly that each step was a journey within itself. And you couldn’t push yourself to go further. There was no further. There was nothing in the woods and there was nothing beyond the road and you were running on fumes that no longer existed. 

But you couldn’t just lie there and take it. You were about to reach over, bending at the waist, to grab your bag. To pull it up over your shoulder and trek on, even though it was pointless. But something stopped you. 

Something–a sound–made you freeze. 

It was faint. It didn’t sound like the undead, with their discordant groans and disgusting squelches, no… it was far. Getting closer. Closer. The hum and the growl. The purr of a motor. The hiss of pavement. 

Your head snapped up, eyes bulging wide as you looked over the horizon to see…. Yes. Yes! Yes, it’s them! The car! A grin pulled at your lips. Halle-fucking-lujah! You felt the anxiety ebb, slowly falling away from your body, as they got closer. The black spec turned into a black blob, then a figure that took shape, and finally you could make out a Vermont license plate and the dirt that stuck to big wheels. Up close, it was a sleek thing, tall and well-built. Midnight black and aside from the splatter on the rubbered wheels, it was polished and clean. The dark paint reflected the bright world around you, turning it into weird warped versions of a faux-paradise. You swallowed at the feel of warmth against your legs, the exhaust from the truck flooding over the smallest sliver of skin around your ankles. Suddenly fearing a changed mind and bad intentions, you stumbled back until your heels pushed against your bag. 

Tinted windows stared down at you, menacing and opaque. Not a thing to see behind them, even if you squinted. Nothing moved, nothing jumped, and you watched with bated breath for a window to roll down - until finally, it did. 

The driver’s side. It went whirr-ing down, sliding for the shortest period of time in the world until only a shadow met you - and then a flicker of movement. And then- 

“Oh my god! Jesus! Okay okay!” You flinched, not even hesitating to raise your hands above your head. You spread your fingers out, desperate to prove your innocence to the stranger in the car. And the gun they were holding, pointing at you, through the gap. 

“Were you bit?” A rough voice, muted and deep, broke the atmosphere. 

You shook your head.

“Words. Use them.” 

“No,” you licked your lips, instantly deciding to turn around in a slow circle. “Not bitten. Not scratched.” You tried to ignore the way your hands shook, even as you shifted all the way back to face the gun’s muzzle. 

“Ask where…” a voice, soft and feminine, came from somewhere beyond the driver’s seat. It was saying something, telling something, but faded into a whisper so quiet you couldn’t hear a thing. Your eyes shifted to the dark backseat windows, trying to see something- anything- and found no surprise in the lack of life. 

“Any weapons?” The driver seemed to ignore the other person, and instead held the gun steady. You watched it with weary eyes.

“Yes.” And before they could ask, you tugged the knife out of your belt and the gun out of your pants pocket. They were held up in the air, another white flag, and you twitched the hand that held the firearm. “At least three bullets left, but that’s it.” 

“And the others?” 

You blinked. “Others? What oth-”

“Where is the rest of your ammunition? In the skull of a human or scum?” The stranger spat, and you detected the hints of an accent. 

Scum… you’d never heard them referred to as that before. Your last group called them walkers, and some others claimed flesh-eaters. You were tempted to use ‘zombies’, but it felt rather silly. The world took that term too lightly, and the undead were nothing if not a very serious problem. But scum? Like they were beneath humanity and not its current destroyer? You’d ask about it later, you decided, if they deemed you well enough to take in. 

“Both,” you breathed honestly, dropping your weapons to your sides with a heavy sigh. “They um- weren’t quite there yet. Got ambushed overnight.” 

The gun still didn’t move. 

“They don’t ambush. What really happened?” 

Hm. They weren’t wrong. Animated corpses didn’t ‘ambush’, but when a herd of them went lurking about, it certainly felt that way. You didn’t think logistics were entirely necessary, but you understood the need for specifics. Trust among men was eviscerated in the face of danger, especially against those once living. You’d seen paranoia before, in others. Humans simply didn’t take each other in anymore… not without some level of severe mistrust. The second thought after seeing the truck drive off was that you probably wouldn’t be accepted anyway - you’d killed without technical reason. Could have just left. Run away. 

But you didn’t. 

You didn’t want to see them turn into those… creatures. 

So what else was there to say? You stared at the gun, willing a click and the shot of a bullet, as you opened your mouth. 

“A herd. A lot of them. Just… descended upon the place. Someone might’ve been walking around in the woods or something, and there was just not enough protection,” you paused, licking your lips, “...I was the last one alive. Had to shoot them and go.” 

“How long since?” 

“Few days, give or take,” you shrugged. The exhaustion only built as you stood there, trying not to sway and collapse in your spot. The truck was still running, hissing hot exhaust; it was the first genuinely warm thing you’d felt in so many days that you wanted to crawl underneath and take a nap. The world, turning to autumn, was growing chilly. There was no chance you could survive winter on your own. 

“...Give or take,” you heard the driver scoff and laugh, bitter and mean. You frowned. 

Then the window started going up, and you couldn’t help yourself. With a hard thunk, you pushed your shoulder hard against the car, and knocked on the thick glass with the butt of the knife. A look of utter desperation crossed your features, heavy and thick. Urgency, anxiety, fear forced any sense from your mind. There was no chance. There was no survival at all.

“No please- please I can’t be out here alone please- I’m smart and- and I can run fast and be an asset. Please,” you shook your head, searching with worried eyes, “please, please you can’t do this to me-” 

Something dark spliced through the corner of your vision, dragging a shadow with it, and you just barely dodged the sudden swing of the truck’s backseat door. It bounced with force and you glanced back at the driver’s window once before stepping back and hastily swinging your bag over your shoulder. The knife and gun were slipped back into your clothing, concealed, and you held yourself strong as the black leathered interior bore itself to the world. 

“-we can’t just leave them-” 

“-on’t be stupid. They could be a liability-”

“-not stupid. We need more people-” 

Voices, at least two, were rushed and tangled in an argument. You didn’t pay much attention to what you could hear, though the growing irritation was hard to ignore. It would be a hassle to be accepted, you knew, but you’d deal. There was no choice. The backseat door was open and there was a figure hustled back against the other window. 

“The offer won’t last,” the stranger murmured, somehow louder than the two people in the front seats, and you decided not to take any chances in the world alone. 

With a grunt, a push, and a final slam of the door, you found yourself in the truck. Your bag was pushed down by your feet, you tugged your knife out to rest it on your thigh, and you turned to say thank you- but was cut off by a cold blade at your throat. It grazed the soft dirty skin, less than a centimeter away from pushing, and you felt saliva pool in the back of your throat. Swallowing would have pressed you closer, so you fought the urge and only stared.

“Woah-” 

“Try anything and you die. I don’t want a peep, not a shuffle. Do I make myself clear?” 

The driver’s voice, clearer in such close quarters, was deep and mean. Accent, as you had clocked, from somewhere in the United Kingdom. It held a natural growl, a gruffness from years of smoking, perhaps, and you couldn’t help but sense the intimidation. It wasn’t fake confidence, you noticed, as you looked up and met the cool sharp grey gaze of a woman. Her hair, a deep blonde, was slicked back and short, ruffled slightly by the nape of her neck. A long neck… that led to strong looking shoulders. They were half covered by a jacket, but you could see the strength in the chords of her muscle. A force to be reckoned with. A leader, perhaps. She was pale, with a defined nose and lips twisted into a permanent sneer, and you probably would have thought she had some potential for post-apocalyptic modeling, if it weren’t for the scar that covered one half of her face. Slashed across the left eye, the wound was jagged and rough - it dragged from a point close to the exact middle of her forehead, right to the corner of her jaw. Thicker at parts and thinner at others, it split through a pale eyebrow and seemed to have permanently rendered her blind. The lid didn’t even move when one stormy eye shifted, and you suddenly felt extremely creeped out. Something about her was undeniably cold. Almost reckless, but her hand was so steady with control you knew not to make a move. She’d probably kill without hesitation, dump you back into the road, and drive off with the duffel. There was no choice but to answer, answer quickly, and do as told. 

“Yes, clear.” Your head shifted half an inch up and half an inch down, still cautious of the blade. 

But she didn’t move. 

It was a battle of wills for just a moment, with your hands in your lap, empty and docile. You weren’t looking for a fight, or a staring contest, but the stranger didn’t let up until the figure to your right decided to sit up and speak. 

“Ah they do not seem so bad. Look at them. Tired and scared, like sad city mouse,” another woman, one with a Russian accent and a voice a hint too loud, cooed. 

Silence followed, persisted, for only a minute- and then the blade was tugged back so quickly you swear it nearly cut the air in two. The driver tsked as she twisted herself around, murmuring as she went. 

“More like a rat.” 

And then you were thrown to the side with a heavy wheeze as the truck lurched and began moving, working into a turn so you could go back the way they’d come.

You glared at the back of the headrest, not feeling above a little bit of irritation for some poor handling, but eventually grew bored. With some apprehension, your eyes flicked over to the person in the passenger seat. Their profile was strong, feminine, and you noted the unbelievably well-kept head of snowy hair. She looked clean, just like the driver, and a spark of hope welled up in your tired heart. Running water and food existed where they came from, wherever they were camped out, and if you played your cards right, you could finally indulge in some good hygiene. Unless the woman in the passenger seat was stingy with her water… god her skin was so clear, and she seemed to be wearing makeup. No one wore makeup anymore. Not the people in your old group and not the few stragglers you’d stumbled across. It simply wasn’t a necessary luxury anymore, but the woman sitting across from you, back straight and hands in her lap, seemed to think it was of the utmost importance. You wanted to speak, wanted to ask her name, but found yourself turning to your right - and catching the gaze of the person that opened the door for you. 

“Anna,” your savior spoke, tilting her head to the left and regarding you with curious eyes. A pale hand, big and long-fingered, shot out and hovered above your lap. You glanced down at it, at the clean skin and the perfect fingernails, and knew that you hit the survivalist jackpot. 

With a nod and a quick clasp of her hand, you whispered your name in reply. She nodded before leaning back against the door and crossing her arms; she seemed quite comfortable there, with a rather large gun resting across her lap. Her hair, blonde as well, fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. She saw with deep blue eyes - a contrast to the cold steel of the driver - and didn’t hesitate to flick them over your body in some sort of analytical search. Weapons, you figured, is what she was looking for. And the knife in your lap, which she eyed with some interest. 

You wanted to say something, wanted to thank them, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough those days. Asking something of someone was a risk every single time. And you’d asked—begged—them to take you in. You needed to pull your weight, no questions asked. 

“Um- thank you for-”

“Shoot them.” 

“What?!” You straightened up, eyes going wide as, in your peripherals, you saw Anna’s hand inch toward her gun. Through the rear-view mirror, you caught the way the driver’s brow twitched. 

“You heard me. Shoot them.” 

“Pha-”

“I said no talking,” the stranger growled, not even bothering to address the woman in the passenger seat. The white-haired woman looked frustrated, her red lips tugging into a frown, as she watched the driver double down on her focus. “Didn’t I say that?” 

“But I-,” you wanted to plead your case, wanted to defend yourself, but were cut off. 

“I am not going to shoot,” Anna said before you could speak. “Why do you expect her to be quiet hah, Phasma? We just saved her жопa. No need for fighting.”

You glanced at her, picking up on the Native tongue. Fresh off the boat, or perhaps visiting, with the way she said it so easily. Zhopa? Given the context, it wasn’t hard to tell what she meant. Yes, they had just saved your ass. And yes, you wanted to say thank you. Even if that Phasma person wasn’t too keen on a bit of gratitude. 

“I hardly think thanking us for a kind deed is worthy of execution, no matter how much silence you require,” the fair-haired woman across from you said smoothly, throwing a slight glare to the woman on her right. And finally, she took that moment to turn around in the seat and make eye contact. 

Something that proved to be far more difficult than you thought it would. Good lord, she was gorgeous. Pale skin, deep admiral blue eyes, and lips redder than blood. Not even a scratch on her face, not even a single spec of dirt - as if the apocalypse never happened and there weren’t dead people roaming every street in the world. In fact, she didn’t seem incredibly worried about the predicament the human species found itself in, and was looking at you with kind eyes, a furrowed brow, and a smile that she hoped was welcoming. 

“My name is Larissa,” her hand, gloved in white fabric as soft as silk, reached out as an olive branch. You wanted to take it, wanted to feel something so lovely for the first time in a long time and create some sort of bond, but your hands were very dirty. A part of you guessed that Larissa hadn’t put them on earlier that day with the hope to return to camp holding soft fabric smudged with dirt and dried blood, so you only looked down at your palm and then back at hers. 

“Oh uh- I don’t wanna get your gloves dirty-” 

“Oh,” she glanced down, realizing that she was, in fact, wearing hand-coverings. “Later, then,” a warm smile shone back at you - and you were helpless, instantly offering her a nod in return. 

“Finished?” The driver piped up, eyes cold as she stared at you in the rear-view. 

As if on cue, Larissa turned back around in her seat, rolling her eyes as she went, and you could only fall quiet. Introductions were over, you were warming up to the easy heat in the car, and Phasma–if you dared address her by name in your head–had a good handle of the wheel. You were safe. For now. And with one last suspended look at the gun on Anna’s lap, you reached over for the seatbelt, tucked yourself in with a click, and leaned back in the seat. It was so suddenly comfortable, such a huge contrast to the shit you’d dealt with recently, that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and revel. Even for a moment. Even for a second.

—

“Get up,” a mean grunt, paired with a quick rush of piercingly cold air, tugged you from the depths of sleep. 

Before you could even open your eyes properly, a shiver set itself into your bones. Eager to escape it, and the confines of the car, you jolted and scrambled for your seatbelt. Leaning against the open door, watching you grab your things, was the driver. Phasma? Weird name, but there was no time to dwell - especially not when she was looking at you like that. Eyes sharper than the knife on your lap, holding a polished chrome pistol in one hand, and waiting with some tension for you to hurry up. The duffel was pulled up onto your shoulder, the knife was tucked into your belt, and your hands scratched at the leather as you looked around wildly for your gun. 

“We took it. You’ll get it back when you prove you’re not a complete imbecile,” she spat, peering down her nose at you. Disgust danced in her expression, sparking flames of unwanted insecurity, and you felt compelled to look away. Her nostrils were flared, her pink lips curled into something disdainful and mean, and you couldn’t help but watch the way her jaw shifted as she tensed, watching you watch her. The hatred seemed a bit out of place, too strong for normal trust issues, and you briefly wondered if perhaps she’d always been that way - even before the end of civilization. She was clearly a bitch, and not interested in showing you kindness any time soon, so you decided to forgo a response, ignored her glaring, and slipped out of the car without a word. 

Before your feet were completely on the ground, and your bag was out of the way, the door slammed closed behind you, quick and sharp. The speed of it nearly clipped your shirt, and you whirled around to face the stranger’s irritation. She seemed to have lost interest in you and side-stepped your figure without another glance. One finger on the trigger, a shit-ton of audacity-filled swagger in her walk, and a back broad and strong. She looked like an outlaw, tall, mean, wearing grey with a belt around her strong hips and a leather jacket over her shoulders. You wanted to throw your gun at her and watch it hit the back of her head, but there was no way in Hell you’d be able to run away faster than she could catch you. 

“Come,” you heard Anna speak, interrupting your train of thought as she trudged up to your left. You turned, seeing the way she cocked her head. “I’ll introduce you.” The gun swayed in her grasp as she turned, making little shuffling sounds in the grass. 

The grass. 

You went to go forward, but stopped. The grass. It was… terribly neat. Very well maintained. Not like apocalypse grass, which was flat and bloodied and mudded and dusted, but like rich person grass. Striking green grass, healthy, it bounced back behind you when you stepped on it. And the air… you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was fresh. Pure. Free of the smell of death and free of gunpowder and spraying blood. Just where on Earth were y-

oh.

Oh. 

You looked up, finally, and found yourself in a courtyard. On all sides was a wall, sections of it made of brick, others of stone, and the rest of wrought iron fence, bolted hard into the ground; and across the way, piercing the sky, was a manor. Or what looked like a manor. No - what was definitely a manor. Dark, illuminated slightly by the deep blue of the atmosphere and the torches that littered the ground in neat paths, splitting off into cobblestone sections. You swallowed. It was gorgeous. Untouched. A world that seemed to run on and on while the rest of the globe went to shit. 

How fucking lucky were you? 

“Come! I must say twice?!” Anna called, giving you an exasperated beckon as she started disappearing behind the dark stone brick of the main entrance. 

Sparing a quick glance behind you, you found a fortified gate and short stone walls - reinforced and built upon with barbed wire, wood, and sheets of metal. It must have opened up for the truck when you were still asleep, but was very much firmly shut and impenetrable once closed. You wanted to explore it more, wanted to study the mechanism and the layout and come to understand just how they managed to get the place so protected, but you didn’t want to leave Anna waiting. And a low rumble of thunder, far but rolling quick, told you that rain was eager to make her appearance - and you did not want to get caught in that. 

After adjusting your bag and patting the knife in your belt for reassurance, you set off after the Russian stranger. 

—

“So I am Anna, this you know already,” she pointed to herself, tapped her chest twice, then rolled her hand over to gesture to the clearing ahead. 

It was beautiful, outlined against a dark wood. Rocky paths led to a big circle in the middle, and the ruins of stone benches and statues littered the camp. You could definitely see what it used to be - a beautiful place for the elite to sit, to bask, to enjoy the nice air and the wind. But the end of the world had gotten to it, not with the bearings of total destruction, but with the promise of change. A big spruce shelter had been built to the far left, reinforced with four beams and no walls - clearly just meant to keep the rain at bay while they worked outside. Beneath it, there were wooden benches and designated spots for farming equipment, guns, and even a water purifying system from the looks of it. If you assumed that sleeping quarters and showers existed in the castle, then they seemed to be in the best shape anyone could be in.

Even the people, who were busy going about their evening and tending to their duties, while you watched by Anna’s side and felt your excitement grow.

“Phasma was woman driving. Not so kind,” she tsked, giving you a knowing look, and you found yourself unable to ask about the strange name. You figured she wouldn’t have known the answer anyway. Then her hand moved, stealing your attention. “That is Jane,” she pointed to a pale woman sitting on one of the large stone benches. 

Her back was turned, but you could see the severity of her expression in the reflection of a hand mirror. She was handsome, free of makeup, with jet-black hair. The strands fell from between her fingertips, spilling like water, as she threaded them into a braid around her head. Her movements were slow, methodic, and you watched, sort of hypnotized, as the long sleeves of her hooded dress stretched across her slim back. Tight along her arms and resting over the black pants covering her thighs, leading down to knee-high leather boots. Fit for an apocalypse, but somehow still chic. You watched her hands for a moment more, and turned slightly to her right when Anna gestured to the woman beside her. 

“Miranda. Good girl, but way too skinskie,” she nodded to herself while crossing her arms. 

The stranger in question–Miranda–was holding up an antique hand mirror for Jane to look into while doing her hair. They seemed to be the same height, though Miranda’s build was lankier and toned. The sleeves of her white top had to have been torn off, leaving freckled shoulders free to the air, and around one wrist was a black watch. It nearly matched the same leather as her belt, which held an attached holster and a sleeve for a walkie-talkie. Its antenna stood out against the baby blue of her uniform pants; tight by the hips but baggier toward the ankles, tucked into dark laced boots. Her hair was styled into a fair blonde bob, probably recently cut by the sight of such clean edges. It looked unbearably soft kissing the back of her neck.

“She was policewoman. Strong.” Anna commented, gazing at her from your spot by the castle wall. 

You nodded absentmindedly, looking over the two strangers and the chess board that sat between them on the bench. Jane had black and Miranda white. The latter seemed to be focusing quite hard on the game, holding a pawn loosely in one hand, as the dark-haired beauty tsked and adjusted the hand mirror that slowly slipped to the side. You watched Miranda jump and offer what you assumed was a sheepish apology, as she tried to multitask. Her small smile was pink and soft, warm and welcoming. A friend, perhaps. 

“Very…domestic,” came your soft murmur, sparked by the surprise of such a peaceful camp. In the past group, everyone was too busy trying to sleep, find food, or talk themselves through panic attacks. Maintaining sanity with comfort was not a priority. 

“Da. Comfortable,” your companion nodded. “Jan is there, washing.” And you turned, yet again, to find a figure standing in front of a clothesline. 

The combat boots made her seem tall, though they were a bit out of place—not really matching the long white sleeved shirt and full red skirt combo. Immaculate and clean, you noticed, though that was to be expected from a woman trying her hardest to get blood out of a white blouse. Her hands were covered by blue rubber gloves, with one clutched around a sponge and the other around the neck of a bottle of white wine vinegar. On the ground by her feet was a large pale jug of hydrogen peroxide and a bucket of what you assumed was water. And the blouse in front of her, held up by wooden clothespins, rippled from the breeze. It seemed to get colder and windier the longer the night went on, probably bringing the rain with it at some point. With any luck, it would clear up the light splotches of pink that covered most of the shirt’s chest up to the collar, but ‘Jan’ didn’t seem too patient and satisfied with that. She got back to her scrubbing a moment later, the strict waves of her blonde hair bumping gently against her neck. 

“Jan is very chic. You go to her for fashion advice, no?” Anna tilted her head at you, dragging dark blue eyes over your face. The lawn lamps stabbed into the grass lit everything up with a sweet warm glow, bringing out the flames in her expression as she peered at you curiously. Very handsome, in her own sharp-featured sort of way. You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up. 

“Respectfully, I think fashion is the least of my concerns right now, Anna.” 

“Hm. Maybe,” she hummed, shrugged, and gave you a once-over that set your heart racing before turning her attention back to the group. 

“Brienne!” You jumped, flinching away as Anna’s loud voice carried into your ear. In the distance, a hulking figure shifted and unfolded, moving to look up at the call. They were sitting on a big pile of cut logs, holding a stone cylindrical sharpener in one hand and a… sword… in the other. Anna waved, talking to you gently as you both watched the figure’s expression change into one of suspicion. She was handsome. Pale, with the lightest blonde lashes and brows, and eyes that sparkled even from that distance. They squinted, drawing frown lines across her face, as she straightened up in her spot. You tried desperately not to stare at her figure, but it was impossible. The deep blue ribbed shirt clung to her torso like a second skin, wrapping tightly around strong biceps and broad shoulders. It was tucked into muddy green cargo pants, offsetting the brightness of the steel that covered the toes of her dark boots. You tilted your head and watched as she glanced between you and Anna before she finally decided to shoot the woman a firm nod. Anna’s lips quirked up into a smile. “She was once soldier. Good woman - she will protect you if you’re in trouble. Saved me many many times.” Her blonde curls swished as she nodded to herself. 

That was good to know, you reasoned. Everyone seemed quite strong. Tall, too. And pale. The camp was gorgeous, the people seemed mundane enough, and the company was… well. Your eyes drifted over to Anna’s side profile, a silhouette of soft dips and curves, and you couldn’t hide the attraction you felt even if you tried.

“Larissa, you know too. She is leader, xорошо?” You didn’t really know what ‘harasho’ meant, but the light intonation of her voice had you saying ‘Yeah’ anyway. 

Then an arm was winding itself around yours, jostling the bag on your shoulder and the gun slung around Anna’s body. It rested against her back, hitting her thighs, and you were suddenly powerless to the way she steered you further down the gravel path. Toward the right, there was a makeshift driveway; a patch of land ripped up from the grass and replaced with gravel, soil, and rocks. The black truck made an appearance again, probably having been driven up from around the back, and you watched with curious eyes as Phasma busied herself with a few bags and boxes from the trunk. Jesus, she was fit… tall and lethal. A small grunt left her lips when she hauled two boxes up into her arms, never faltering or pausing. Damn. You found yourself getting lost in the sight of her legs in those cargo pants, filling them out, until Anna clicked her tongue. 

“Lucifer is strange, but ultimately harmless. Do not worry, they are not naked under the robe.” 

Lucifer? Naked under the what? 

You were going to take a quick glance around, to find whatever the hell Anna was talking about, but there was no need. Some feet in front of you, lounging on a red and gold velvet chase, was a lithe figure. They were almost glowing in the reflection of the walkway lamps, with the deep crimson of a flowing silk robe offsetting the smooth pale planes of soft skin. One elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair, and you traced the folds of flowing sleeves up to a slim forearm, wrist, and a delicate hand. Slender fingers were curled under the curve of a pale cheek, and you felt your heartbeat speed up at the sight of soft features and  crystal eyes. And their hair, curled so perfectly into handsome shining ringlets of spun golden-web… goodness, they were… 

“Luxurious,” you murmured, tilting your head as you watched the stranger chat with Larissa. She was standing over them, in front of the chase, and even at that height, you had a feeling that the one laying down was somehow a little bit taller. “Is Lucifer their real name?” 

“Da,” Anna nodded, “little strange, no?” 

“Yeah,” you gave her an odd look. “Strange as fuck.” 

“Don’t get comfortable,” a voice growled from behind you, making you slip away from Anna’s hold and turn around. Phasma was walking past, holding a big bag under each arm. Her muscle was impressive, but dear god she was an asshole. You had to sort out that situation as quick as possible.

“Hey what’s your problem, man?” You spread your hands out at your sides before letting them slap against your thighs. “You picked me up, and while I’m grateful for that, I am, you didn’t have to-”

“Exactly,” she bit out as she whirled around and marched right back to you. Her breath was cool, washing lightly over your face, and she stood so close that your foreheads nearly touched. From that angle, looking up, you could reach out and trace the jagged line of her scar. It was quite attractive actually, even if her eyes narrowed as she watched you look at her. They were cold. Not an ounce of care.

“Don’t. Get. Comfortable.” Her lips twitched, carrying a silent threat.

“Okay,” Larissa’s voice, sing-songy and weary, cut into the conversation. “Why don’t we all take a moment to calm down, hm?” Her smile was blinding as she turned to you. One gloved hand hovered above Phasma’s right shoulder, but was instantly shrugged off the second it made contact. Her sneer didn’t fade even when she stepped back, eyes still flaming with anger. Larissa cleared her throat. “Y/n, you’re new here. Why don’t you and I have a little chat?” 

Her expression, although kind, hid a sharpness that you didn’t think was wise to fuck around with. If Larissa was the leader, according to Anna, then it was her you had to charm. You didn’t really know why she was the top dog, especially because some of the other group members seemed more… abrasive… but clearly something about her was good enough to be the one in charge. And pissing her off, messing around with her people, was a one-way ticket to possibly turning into those fuckers lurking in the woods. So you didn’t really have a choice - and you didn’t really want one. No matter what, you’d stay. You’d be of some help. You’d stay on the soft grass, smelling the clean air. You’d become best friends with Larissa, the group would learn to like you, and you’d try not to combust when any of them looked your way.

Easier said than done though, of course. Especially when Larissa’s smile knocked down all of your reservations at once, in one big swing, and coaxed an obedient nod from your body. 

“Okay. Yes. Sure.” 

“Perfect,” Larissa’s grin, somehow, grew even wider. 

“It’s getting late,” were Phasma’s parting words before she turned away and headed off toward two big wooden double doors. 

You watched her strut without much thought, and found yourself on the other end of a staring Larissa. Her eyes were utterly striking in the evening light, and the outline of her face… a sight to be seen for a person as weary as you. 

“So… is your group considered women only?” You murmured, peering up at her through your eyelashes. 

Red lips twitched. 

“Not intentionally. Though we have had the discussion before,” she contemplated her next words carefully, looking all over your face before resuming, “and we think it’s best if it’s just women. And Lucifer.” 

“And Lucifer?” You still can’t get over that being their real name. Probably just picked out in a moment of edginess when they were a teen. Lucifer did sound cool, sort of bully-worthy. Like they were emo kid once upon a time.

“Lucifer is what many would refer to as non-binary. Not a man and not a woman. I hope that won’t be a problem?” Something flashed behind her eyes. Not a threat, but a warning. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Not at all. They and I are… one and the same,” you shrugged and adjusted the bag on your shoulder. 

“How lucky I must be…,” someone purred from over your shoulder.

You tensed up, surprised by the closeness, and felt yourself grow a little weak at the tone. Like spiced honey, their voice was intense and smooth. You wanted to lap it up. 

“Ah right on time for a proper introduction,” Larissa, ever the most efficient woman from what you could tell so far, found herself a golden opportunity. One hand shot out and gestured over to you, then to the person slinking around to your right. “Y/n this is Lucifer, one of the strongest members of our group. Lucifer and I make most of the big decisions, with the necessary input from everyone else. And Lucifer,” Larissa’s grin relaxed into a smile, “this is Y/n. Depending on our discussion of the rules, they may become a familiar face, so I suggest you play nice.” 

You found that you couldn’t look to the side without short-circuiting. There was something.. something… about their aura that had you wanting to shy away and cower. It wasn’t the explosive intensity of Phasma or the consuming strangeness of Anna, or even the gentle but strong hand of Larissa… but instead a subtle sort of consumption. Utterly intriguing and fascinating - like they were put on the Earth to confuse humans. You didn’t even look at them and you could feel that. Didn’t even know them and you could feel that. Standing so close. So much body heat. 

“It’s a pleasure,” they murmured, turning to you fully. 

You swallowed, braced yourself, and looked up to your right. 

Sweet holy Jesus. They were even more handsome up close. Just absolutely soft and glorious. And carrying the faint scent of… firewood? You cleared your throat. 

“Um yeah- likewise. Hi.” 

A flash of black, followed by measured footsteps in the grass, had all three of you shifting to see Jane walking past. Miranda was not too far behind, taking her time to cross the yard. 

“Dinner is being prepared. Show face in the next 20 minutes or go to bed hungry.” Jane didn’t even spare you a glance before she disappeared behind the same doors Phasma had gone through. 

“Thank you, Jane,” Larissa managed to call just before they closed behind her with a dull bang. 

“Three moves…,” Miranda was muttering, holding the box for the chess set in one hand. “She beat me in three moves.” 

“Oh it’s not hard. I would’ve beaten you in two,” another voice entered the fray, polite but amused. Jan, you recognized, as she sidled up between you and Larissa with a small smile on her deep red lips. 

Miranda scoffed and turned to look at Anna, only to find that she was gone. One glance behind you revealed that she’d wandered over to Brienne, probably prompting her to go inside for dinner. You hummed, hiding the amusement of friendly banter. It had been so long since you felt even the smallest sense of normalcy. If they were so comfortable with each other, then it must have been a bit since they were all alone out in the world. You’d probably ask Larissa about that later - once everything was said and done. 

“I would’ve beaten you in one,” Lucifer smirked as they pulled away and went walking inside. Had they been barefoot the entire time? 

“That’s not even possible!” Miranda yelled, but the door was already shut. “...Is it?” She turned to Larissa, then to you, then back to Larissa. 

“I don’t think so, Miranda,” Larissa smiled before looking at you. “Any chance you’re good at chess?” 

Dear lord, having two sets of beautiful blue eyes on you was nerve-wracking, but you ignored the flush building up on your cheeks and nodded. 

“Um yeah- it’s possible to beat someone in two moves. But it’s only black, I think.” You gave Miranda an apologetic smile and a shrug as she pouted. 

“You will beat her next time Miranda,” Anna returned with Brienne in her wake. The sword she was sharpening earlier was still in her hands. “She cannot win forever.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Brienne cut in, her voice strong and deep. Her mouth was pulled into a light frown, and you noticed the scar that cut through the upper lip on the right. From the time before, you suspected. Otherwise she’d be turned. “She beat me and Phasma one after the other.” 

Miranda sighed, tsking beneath her breath. 

“Then there’s no hope…” Goodness, she looked like a sad puppy.

“Why not?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could grab it. 

And of course, all of the attention then dragged itself over to you. Five sets of sea-blue eyes, all gorgeous in the glow of the evening lamps, traced lines over your tired body. In comparison to them, you looked a sight. Obviously having been picked up from the side of the road, unclean and awkward, somewhat detached from society. In your bag? Not enough clothing and not enough supplies. In your belt, peeking out from beneath your shirt? A knife, dirty and growing dull. And in your eyes? Lurking sadness and horror - the same which probably lived in the women that were observing you. 

Larissa, thank goodness, finally broke the lull of silence. 

“Brienne and Phasma were in the military,” she said gently.

“Oh. That makes sense.” And it did - Jane must have been an intellectual force if she beat people that used to be in the military before the world ended. Though that made you wonder… “What branch?” You turned to Brienne, not really surprised that you had to look up to meet her eyes. It seemed you’d been adopted into a camp of skyscrapers. Though the sharpness of her eyes had you swallowing. “I mean- if you don’t mind me asking.” 

She seemed to consider it, sizing you up, before saying, rather shortly, “SAS. Then Delta Force.” 

You couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened. 

“Oh.” 

“Oh, indeed,” Larissa hummed. “But I think now would be a good time to head in, wouldn’t you say?” She spared her smile for everyone, meeting the gaze of each woman, before finally looking at you and raising her eyebrow. 

It wasn’t really up to you, so you just shrugged and waited for Anna to say ‘Da, da, xорошо’ before heading in. Brienne followed after her, then Miranda, who was studying the back of the chess box, and Larissa, who started taking off her gloves. Jan, meanwhile, stayed where she was and kept her eyes on you. They were curious and deep, never-ending, and lined with mascara and eyeliner. Mascara and eyeliner that… well it suited her, but goodness it was certainly intense. Dark and shadowed, but beautiful nevertheless. You couldn’t look away. 

“Jan Stevens,” she breathed and gave you her hand, elegant and admittedly quite charming. Her nails were painted a deep cherry red. Utterly flawless.

At the sight of it, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. Your palms were still dirty, and sort of calloused, and you didn’t want to… ruin her. So you hesitated, stared at it, looked back up at her, and found her kind smile to be unwavering. 

“Go on,” Jan finally whispered, giving her hand a pointed look, and you fell prey in an instant. 

Quickly, you shot out to gently cup her hand into your own, and gave it a gentle shake. You felt strangely compelled to bring it up to your lips, but you weren’t sure that meeting a stranger in an apocalypse really called for such formalities. Even though you yearned to feel her skin beneath your mouth. It wasn’t proper; though you did think that Jan’s expression fell just a little bit. Like she was excited. Like she wanted you to kiss her hand. 

“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise,” she purred, looking you up and down, before turning toward the door. “Come quickly now. If we’re late, Jane will send us off to bed without dinner. And we wouldn’t want that.” 

It probably would have been wise to consider and contemplate the fact that you were in a stranger’s camp, with a stranger’s group… but the saucy little wink that Jan threw over her shoulder sent a deep blush crawling up your cheeks. And just like that, without fail, you were one of the flesh-eaters… caught in the pretty paws of eight different beasts. 

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Please let me know if my characterization is okay and if you'd like to see more. Be safe, darlings. - Rip x

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Far too many names to tag. Find it as you come.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N bows to Elsa…

Y/N: it was lovely to officially meet you, your highness

Elsa: (blushes) pleasure’s all mine.

Y/N gives Anna’s hand a kiss…

Y/N: I’m gonna go get you some of that delicious chocolate.

Anna: thank you, baby

Y/N walks away, leaving the sisters alone…

Anna: so…what did you think of my (Y/N)?

Elsa: w-would you be willing to share them? I-I never felt that way about anyone.

Anna: yes!

[your-goth-sis]

How about four random killers reacting on the fact that their S/O in past stole nuke and, upon being asked 'why?' just answer 'I wanted in on Christmas as a child'?

I'm really sorry if this isn't what you wanted, I tried my best <3 :)

Albert Wesker

You're a weapon

No like literally

He could use you for so much

You wanted it for Christmas? Well, he wanted YOU for Christmas too but - okay nevermind

Anna

Her brain can't process it

You stole WHAT?

You also stole her heart but that's a story for another day

Herman Carter

Immediate turn on

Lowkey wants you to do it again and see how you did it

You wanted it for Christmas? Why?

Can he give you something better?

Of course not lmao

Amanda Young

Wow

How was that possible? How'd you sneak past security?

How'd you get a whole NUKE?????

And what did you do with it after you got it?

The world may never know

[julietslament]

The Butcher and The Rabbit Ch. 1

Stone Butch!Huntress x High Femme!Reader

Summery: You lived exactly as you were supposed to. You said your prayers by night. Married the correct man and filled your time as a homemaker. Everything as you were told, yet none of it could prevent the war reaching your doorstep. Forcing you to flee your constructed reality. Straight into the past you left to rot in the woods.

Content Tags/Warnings: DEAD DOVE, Allusions to SA, Slight Gore, Captor/Captive, Eventual Smut, Dubcon, Horror Themes, Childhood Friends to Strangers to lovers

A/N: This will be a very self-indulgent Dark Fic. I will add to the tags as they come.

The sun falls like a guillotine. Its last vestiges of light illuminating your path as you slink through the wood. Pine needles fall onto your shoulders as you push branches out of your way. The red forest was dense, a horrid maw—your only salvation.

Your footfalls are tentative and unsteady. In your haste to escape you had shoved on your husband's hunting boots. The laces are still undone, and the soles twice your size. Paired with the fact you weren’t even a runner on your best day these boots were life threatening. If you were thinking clearer perhaps you would take them off. Endure the forest floor with your bare feet, but the light dust of snow had you far too worried about frostbite. As if you would survive that long.

In the distance, the boisterous sounds of soldiers echoed through the trees. Hounds on a fox trail. Barking for the thrill of the chase. 

Yet you would not be barreling through the trees like a spooked deer; you had to be clever. You knew these woods better than them. You knew they were strangers, and the forest would treat them as such, but would it be kind to you? 

The canopy above darkens. The last rays of the sun fade behind you. As you struggle to make out the overgrown path in front of you the sounds of men grow closer. Too close.

How? Were your tracks so easy to follow? Had the forest forsaken you? Gripping at the jagged bone hanging from your necklace, you prayed under your breath pleas that you would live. Words of worship falling do the dirt beneath your boots. 

Moving along branches dig into the fabric of your sleeves. The foliage grows thicker. Holding your skirt aloft could not even save it from the grasping branches. Bark-laden fingers trying to drag you back. Pulling you away from the path. Perhaps you should listen, but how could you? The only thing your mind could focus on were all the things that could happen to you if you were caught.

Dogs will hunt. 

Until the rabbit hangs limp from its jaws.

Are the trees getting closer together? Unable to stay low to the ground, the bush too thick, you were forced onto your feet. Looking around it was dark. Too dark, you could barely make out your hands in front of you. Your chest rises and falls as you try to get your bearings. Your body twisting this way and that, not even the moon could pierce the branches above you. Was the moon even out tonight? Were there ever stars in the sky?

An inexplicable terror fills your bones. The darkness is suffocating. Standing still as thoughts begin to swirl around in your head. In your head? Or were the trees whispering to you? 

‘Where are you going?’

‘Are they close?’

‘They have to be.’

‘you can hear them.’

‘I can hear them.’

‘You can hear them’

‘I can hear them right behind me.’

A hot huff of air blows a strand of hair into your face. Your body goes rigid, sweat beading down the back of your neck. As you listen. The sound of air huffing. In then out. Breathing? No. It was smelling you, inhaling your scent. An animal?

Out of the corner of your vision, you see a light, a lantern dancing around the trees. Without a thought you dart towards it, possessed by your fear. You barrel towards the beacon too afraid of the beast behind you to think of the dangers in front of you.

You can’t hear anything over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears but you know you're being chased. You can feel it. The aura of a predator. Reaching its claws towards your back. The lantern gets closer. Hope fills your chest. You can make it! You're gonna make it.

As you reach the ring of light, its glow warming your face, a gunshot rings out. Sliding to the floor you duck. Then it’s only a second before you discover your mistake. In front of you, with a lantern in his hand, stands a man dressed in uniform. His pistol raised right where you had been standing. It seems the rabbit has run straight into the jaws of the hound. You don’t stay a second longer as he yells over his shoulder, no doubt alerting his comrades that the hunt has ended.

Pushing yourself up to your feet you stumble forward. Once again sprinting into the unknown. Relying only on the adrenaline pumping through your muscles you barrel through branches. This time you can hear the footsteps rushing behind you. The light of their lantern is close enough to see in front of you.

Another shot and the bark of a tree explodes next to your head. Forcing you to pivot. A hard left that sends you straight into a thicket, thorns dig into your skin. Ripping at your clothes but you can’t stop. Tearing yourself through the clawing branches, the sounds of fabric ripping mix with the laughter of your pursuers. Finally, you feel your hand hit bare dirt. Digging your nails into the earth you clamber forward.

There’s no path ahead anymore but that doesn’t matter. 

‘Need to get away.’

‘Need to run.’ 

Fear pushes you further. Your limbs grow numb, your breathing impossible to control but weakly you persist. Until you feel the trees open up. This is it. The forest is giving you a way forward.

One step, and you're straight back into the ground. Head slamming flat into the dirt and before you can even think a scream tears through your throat. Pain flares through your ankle, burning up your leg. 

Twisting around you try to make sense of the sudden, searing pain in your ankle. However, the darkness doesn’t even allow you to see your oose and tugging your leg back only makes you cry harder. Fat tears of despair fall down your plump cheeks. Reaching down you feel for any blood but your fingers meet the cold texture of steel. Digging its jaws deep into the soft leather of the boot, puncturing your flesh.

‘This is it. You're caught.’

‘They’re going to kill you.’

‘They’re going to do worse than that.’

The voices chase you still. Furling the fear that grips your being. The steady thrum of dread that shields you from the pain. 

Soft light begins to glow onto your pathetic figure. What a sight you must be. Covered in dirt. Bloodstained and unable to stop your desperate sobs. Shaking like a newborn lamb.

Light fills your vision. What should be a guiding star is now the beacon of your execution. 

The hounds have finally reached you. Just as they always would. Just as they always had. 

Three of them, dressed in army fatigues,  burst out of the trees. Boxing you in. Only one of them held his gun aloft, pointing his pistol straight to your head. He stood in the center, the other two had weapons of their own. One a rifle hanging idly in his grasp. The third, holding a lantern of his own, gripped a knife in his fist. Each of them leering down at the prey in their grasp.

As your eyes darted between them they began speaking in a language foreign to you. Not speaking to you of course but with each other. Discussing something. Their body language was so casual it left your hair on end. The words didn't make sense, but they didn't need to. What else could they be talking about?? What other reason could they have to chase you so far? Your death would not be a swift one.

Leisurely the one with the knife begins sauntering towards you. Then something snaps in your brain. You scream again. Now in a fury as if that’s going to deter him.  Spitting and hissing as a final act of self preservation. The man’s smile only widens. Cooing words at you as his leather-gloved hands reach towards you. Hands that would never touch you. 

In a blink, you watch as a hatchet buries itself into the side of his cap. His wide eyes locked on yours still as he stumbled to the side. Gasping for words before falling to the ground. You can’t tear your gaze away. You stare as his hands still twitch. His lantern still clutched tightly in his grasp.

The soldiers behind the now corpse start yelling into the trees. Both now with guns at the ready, aimlessly pointing them into the shadows. You turn your head left. Then right, trying to get a glimpse of this new danger. Peering into the bush the lantern light just barely touches a few feet beside you.

An eerie silence descends on the red forest. Not even the sound of the wind through the trees to calm your nerves. 

One of the soldiers creeps forward, shining his lantern deeper in. The light swallowed by the pitch black. He speaks in commands, you think as if ordering the shadows around him to surrender.

In front of you soldier with the rifle stands frozen, his grip on his gun too tight. You can see him trembling. He takes one step back then a great hand reaches out of the darkness. Gripping him by the hair and dragging him backwards. A scream pierces the air, the sounds of struggling. Then something that sounds of wet branches snapping.

To your left, you can hear the last soldier standing scream out, before shooting wildly into the bush. Releasing as many bullets as he can, the shots pounding through your skull until all you hear is clicking. You don’t look as the soldier desperately fumbles to reload. No, you can’t look away from the darkness in front of you. You shouldn’t. 

‘Watch. Witness.’

Stalking into the light you see the face of a rabbit. A wooden mask splattered with blood affixed to the face of a hulking body. Towering over the scene. Muscles taut as they reveal themselves. The sleeves of their tattered shirt rolled up to the elbow, exposing the blood trailing up their forearm. A large wood cutting ax is held firmly in their hands, but the only thing you could focus on is its eyes. A pale blue that brings back memories of when you were a child. Of stories, your father would tell you. Of bodarks roaming the wood. Of the stryga that huntsmen

Lost in your admiration you flinch as the creature from the wood lunges forward. In two swift strides, it has him by the neck. The wood cutter's ax sunk deep into the muscle of his shoulder, as though it were only butter. He barely has time to scream before he’s thrown to the ground. The thing presses a bandaged foot down onto his chest, pinning him to the earth. A predator hovering over its prey. With his body pressed down the ax is yanked from his skin. The masked figure raises the weapon above their head and you suddenly realize it’s a woman. The ax swings down, cleaving his face in two. 

You can’t bear to look anymore. Can’t bring yourself to open your eyes or even will your limbs to stop shaking. Your hand goes to your necklace. Trying to seek any form of comfort in your last moments. It goes quiet again, and you wait for the ax.

You feel something. Cold fingers brush softly against your calf. A sharp yelp escapes your throat. A knee-jerk reaction as you open your eyes and come face to face with the bloody rabbit mask. She’s crouched down next to your trembling body, you hadn’t even heard her get closer. She doesn’t acknowledge your scream, merely inspects the trap still locked onto your ankle. With her so close now you can make out the features of her face. 

The mask covers all but her lips and jawline. Scars travel from beneath the bloody wood, marring her pale skin. One cuts straight through her top lip, pulling it up just enough for her canine to peak out. Your gaze drifts downwards, following the contours of her neck. More scars. All the way to where her broad shoulders are hidden beneath the ragged cotton of her shirt. Her clothes seem worn. They look like things men in the village would wear.

As you drift slowly back up to her face, pale blue eyes stare back at you, fixated on your features. Her head cocked to the side. As if she’s trying to figure something out. 

A hum fills the silence. A lullaby. One that you’ve heard thousands of times as a child. She’s singing a lullaby under her breath. You're not sure how to react. Something about this fills you with a sense of peace. Some nostalgic feeling, from winter's past.

A dirt-covered hand reaches towards you. Moving the hair from your face. Gently, her fingers trace along the contours of your cheek. Mapping out your features. Delicately she trails a line down your neck, following the cord of your necklace. Towards your panting of your breast. Stopping at the small animal jaw dangling from your neck. Fingering the edges of its teeth. 

She’s leaning over you now. Staring intently at the worn bone. Her steady breath fanning against your cheeks. She shifts and you feel her other hand brushes against your waist. At the sound of you gasp. As if you’ve burned her. 

The lullaby cuts off, and for a moment you just stare at each other. Before her gaze darts to the ground and she seems almost… bashful, you think. Slowly your mind begins to come back to you. Thoughts racing as to what you should do. She wasn’t threatening you, in fact, she had saved you. Hope fills your chest once again. 

Sparing a glance at the mutilated face of the fallen soldier behind her you hold onto that thought. Sitting up a little straighter you lean closer to her, tilting your head to meet her gaze.

“Help me, please.” Your voice is hoarse. Hardly able to speak above a whisper. 

She looks at you. Startled. Like she was amazed that you could speak. She stares for a moment, long enough for you to worry about her intentions. That perhaps you were mistaken. That maybe you would meet the same fate as those men but she turns to look at the trap still clinging to your boot. 

With a practiced hand, she presses down on the metal. A click and the jaws are released.

Relief floods your lungs as you're able to pull your leg back. The pain lingers but something stops it from fully reaching your brain. Perhaps the thick leather saved you from a broken bone, you hope. Leaning down you go to take off the boot. Desperate to know what lies beneath but a hand on your wrist stops you.

“Don’t.” The first word she says to you. Her voice is rough, harsh as the winter, and coarse as sandpaper. Sounding as if she’d never used it until this very moment. 

Your hand stills as you stare up at her. Unable to deny the authority in her voice you can’t help but listen. Watching as she slides her hand up your arm. Goosebumps shoot up your skin. Her other arm scoops under your legs. Then before you can protest, she hauls you over her shoulder, careful of the pain in your leg.  

The last thing you see is the corpses of the soldiers, fading into the red pines. Their remains swallowed by the earth as this strange woman whisks you away.

[fandom-go-round]

Hello. Do you have any headcanons of Pig, Huntress and Artist (dbd) dating S/O, who's good at reading facial expressions?

Thank you for your patience Anon! I hope that you enjoy these!

Warnings: Implied Canon Typical Violence, Implied Unhealthy Relationships, Stalking, Questionable Mental States (Non Sexual)

The Pig:

Amanda appreciates that you’re so good at reading people. Or in this case mask expressions. She doesn’t like to take her mask off, even outside trails. This means that if you want to get to know her, you need to get to know her through the mask. Her mask isn’t very expressive but there are clues you can look for to figure out how she’s feeling. A head tilt means she’s listening, her head going back means she’s annoyed. Amanda says a lot with very little once you learn how to read her.

Her eyes show a lot of emotion and you often stand so that you can see them clearer in the light. She thinks it’s odd you’ll stand just off to the left or directly in front of her but there’s a reason. Pig isn’t going to stop you from doing what you want, even if it’s going to get you hurt. She thinks it’s funny when you go to get a better angle and then trip on a tree root or step into a hole. Her laughter might sound mocking but it’s one of the only times you hear her laugh so you’ll take it.

She will get jealous if you spend time reading the other killers like you do her. She wants to be special to you and takes that very seriously. Even if you’re only doing it to stay alive, a part of her is going to be huffy. Make sure to spend extra time with her or ask her what she wants to do. Amanda will take things into her own hands and if you really want to see her face, this might be a good way to gently hint that she needs to express herself. The Pig might grumble but she does care about you and wants you to be happy.

The Huntress:

It’s not something that Anna notices at first, she’s too busy watching you. You’re so interested in the world around you that it can be hard to look away. She’s drawn to you like a moth to flame. It takes some time for her to notice that more often than not you’re staring back at her. She knows that it’s hard to tell what she looks like and where her attention is, her mask is designed that way on purpose. Even so, you always seem to know when she’s watching and it makes her feel good to have so much of your attention.

It can unnerving to be the center of your attention; you read her so well and it makes her feel vulnerable. Anna isn’t use to being the one exposed, the one hunted. There’s a part of her that likes it and another that hates it. When she first realizes that you can read her like a book she’s not pleased, not taking it out on you but stomping around trials. As she gets used to it and understands that it’s part of how you express your affection, it gets a lot easier for her to handle. On bad days it can still be too much and she’ll end to spend some time alone before spending time with you again.

Anna is fairly neutral if you’re good at reading other people. It makes her smile behind her mask when you route other killers or tease the other survivors. She doesn’t get jealous easily but when she does, it’s with other killers who have masks. She knows the kind of focus you have to have to read them that well and it can make her feel insecure. Give her extra affection after trails like this and all will be forgiven.

The Artist:

She thinks that it’s fitting you’re able to read her so well. Carmina isn’t very expressive anymore and does her best to come off as cold and elusive. She can’t deny that she’s been drawn to you but the better you get at reading her, the more she wants to follow you. It’s your eyes she later realizes, when the urge to stalk is gone and she’s thinking about the trial. She loves your eyes; even more so when they’re fixed on her. She becomes determined to keep your attention as much as possible.

It’s not hard for Carmina to keep you entranced; she has a presence that’s hard to ignore but when you’re in her sights? You’re only torn away when it’s forced. It doesn’t start as love, it’s defiantly fascination but it goes from like to love quickly. She loves that she hardly needs to say anything, one glance and you know what she’s feeling. It’s a power rush she hasn’t felt in a while and she embraces it completely.

Carmina begins to show off when she knows you’re looking, making things seem completely random but it’s all for you. It’s flattering to see new pieces of art that relate to you in some way. It’s not super obvious but it may be more use of your favorite color or a landscape you enjoy. She’s not easily jealous but she does get annoyed if people have no idea you’re together. When she wants everyone to know they will and then her affection can overflow like a river.

[imauthicktic]

Little Moments

Dbd x fem!reader

Authors note: pretty sure I didn’t use any fem pronouns, but I don’t wanna label it a gn!reader just in case I did. If anything I’ll go back and edit later.

Edit: I fixed it to be gn!reader to be more inclusive!!

Anyways pure fluff 

Characters: Trapper, Huntress, Deathslinger, Ghostface, Hillbilly

Trapper:

I feel like this goes without saying, but you’re definitely stuck in one of his traps. You were the last survivor and that was intentional. See, Evan gets a little excited with you in his trials. You both aren’t together… yet, but he likes to think it’ll be sooner than later. He cares for you, that’s for sure. You both have little moments here and there that can be sweet. They’re just a little too short for his liking. He hopes you enjoy those moments as well. He was still on the hunt for you, trying to find you, but this map was getting too confusing for him at the moment. He heard your whimpering and quickly went in your direction.

You look up at Evan and whimpered a small “Please help me out. It hurts, Evan.” He kneeled down and quickly opened the bear trap, releasing your leg. You didn’t miss the fact that he brought over a med pack. He wrapped up your leg gently and picked you up over his shoulder. “Excuusee me, sir. I think we both know you don’t have to hold me like this when we’re the only two people here,” you said with some sass and a small, but harmless smack to his back. Evan chuckled and instead of holding you like the royalty you are, he gave you a small, not as harmless smack against your ass. You squeaked from how hard he smacked it and pouted when he didn’t change his hold on you.

You guess you can live with it since you notice he’s passing all the hooks and gingerly avoiding his traps. You notice he’s heading towards the hatch and you try to prop up the top part of your body so that you slide down a bit in Evan’s grip. He grunted and caught you with his other arm, your legs wrapped themselves around his waist and you smiled at his mask. You put a lil kiss on his masked cheek and he turned his head towards you. “See you back at your place?” you ask as he puts you on your feet gently. He put a hand on your cheek and gave a small nod. You smiled again and went in for a quick hug. As you both pulled away, you gave a small pinch to his butt, making him jump and you quickly ran towards the exit with a giggle.

Huntress:

It had been a while since you were in a trial with Anna. Not that it put you at ease, but it certainly made you feel a little less stressed considering she would wait, only jokingly chasing you at times until she saw another survivor. Soon enough there were only two survivors left, one of them being you. You tried helping Leon, but he didn’t want you to risk yourself for him. You both were working on the last generator when you heard her humming in the distance. “Finish the generator, I’ll get her to chase me for a bit. Be careful.” Leon said as he ran away towards the humming. You were always surprised by how nice Leon could be towards you, even at the end of the trial and even when you guys were exhausted.

You were fixing the last part of the generator and sighed in relief when it roared alive. Hearing the latch creek in the distance, you stood up and tried to listen for Leon on the way toward safety and you heard him yell out your name. You turned around and saw him running towards you with an angry Anna behind him about to throw her hatchet. However, Leon was too close for comfort when Anna threw her hatchet and you yelled for Leon to duck and you barely just dodged the missile as it scraped your shoulder. Anna saw how it just got you and she halted to a stop as you and Leon made it through the hatch and made it back to camp. You sigh as you sit down for a moment to catch your breath.

You can still feel the sting of the cut on your shoulder. You can feel someone staring you down from the forest. You know who it is instantly. You slowly get up while everyone is chatting and give a small pat on Leon’s shoulder as you head for the treeline. As you walk deeper into the forest you know she’s following you and you stop near a river that you find and sit on top of a rock nearby. The wound is finally closed, you just feel the sting still on your shoulder. You call over your shoulder, “Anna, you can come over. I’m not going to bite,” you say with a small smile. You can barely hear her approach you but she gently sits down next to you, looking at the ground. You can tell she’s upset about hurting you and you softly grab her hand. You lean your head against her shoulder and whisper a small, “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I know it was an accident.” She looks at where she hurt you, only to see it healed already. She feels more at ease knowing you forgive her and that you’re not in any more physical pain. She breathes in deeply and turns to wrap her arms around you and starts humming. You relax in her embrace and you play with her hands for a while until one of you gets pulled back into a trial.

Deathslinger:

You wake up gasping for breath. Another trial failed. You stare up at the stars for a few moments and groan as you try to sit up. You’re further from the survivor camp than you expected and look at the tree line. You’re getting tired of how boring the survivor's camp has been. You decided it was time to start heading towards the one realm you’ve always felt welcomed in.

You finally stepped foot into the scorching sun and decided to take off the stupid jacket you’ve been wearing, sweating, and bleeding in. At least you have a tank top that’s white. Attracts less heat in this wild west place.

You don’t even realize you’re in front of the saloon until you walk through the swinging doors. Caleb side-eyes you as he took a sip of his whiskey. He puts his glass down and leans over the bar to grab another glass as you walk towards him and sit next to him with a blank face. He’s pouring you a drink as he notices your faraway stare. “What’s on yer mind darlin’? I ain’t ever seen ya look so glum,” he gruffly says to you. You can’t help but feel at ease in his presence. You take a big gulp of your drink and wince slightly at the burn going down your throat. It's been a while since you’ve gotten to be with Caleb. You care for him so deeply and you know he cares for you too. You just don’t know how much. “Caleb… I-...” you don’t even know how to word it without sounding desperate. You feel him put some strands of hair behind your ear and then he caresses your cheek with his finger. “My sweet thang. You ain’t never been so quiet,” he said with a small smile. You finally ease up some more as you turn to look at him and his hand cups your cheek. “I love you, Caleb. I just really miss you lately.” you finally say. “My word. It’s ‘bout time you said it. I’ been waitin’ for you to say it first, sweetheart.” he leaned in and put a sickly soft kiss on your lips. “I love you more than anythin’.” Caleb said. You smile in relief and grab your glass and raise it to him. He snorts and raises his glass and clinks it against yours. “To me ‘n you darlin’.”

Ghostface:

You groan at the flash that keeps going off. “Danny, if you don’t chill it with the flash, I’m going to get a migraine,” you whine. He chuckles as he finally stops, “Alright, alright. You’re lucky I got enough for now, sweet cheeks.” “Oh yeah? I’m lucky? No, I think you’re lucky I let you take cute photos of me.” You said as you jumped on top of him trying to wrestle the camera out of his hands. You and Danny tossed each other around, throwing in a lil WWE moves, for the dramatics of course, and you somehow got on top. With a victorious laugh and quick hands, you grab the camera and snap as many pictures as you can of Danny’s laughing face. He grabs you by the hips and turns you guys around and onto your back. You move the camera far and away from yourself, thus, away from Danny. He doesn’t even try to reach for it. You look up at him as he cages your head between his arms.

“Ya know. For this place being as much as a shithole as it is, I’m glad I got you out of it.” You felt the blood rush to your face, not expecting something so sweet to come out of him. “I-... I can’t believe you think that,” you said, almost shocked. “Yeah, well, good luck hearing something like that come out of me again. You totally ruined the moment.” He sighed with a small, fake, pout. You couldn’t help but laugh, he smiled immediately as you giggled out an “Oh, I ruined the moment? Me?” you try to suppress the giggles as you bite your lip. You two lay there as you look into each other’s eyes. You both relax from the giggle fest and he leans down slowly to leave a small kiss on your lips. After that, he leans his head down into the crook of your neck and lays all his body weight onto you. What a perfectly weighted blanket you have. You run your fingers through his hair and press a small kiss on his temple. “I’m keeping those pictures I took of you by the way,” you said into his hair as you press another kiss there. He presses a kiss to your collarbone and with a small sigh he responds with a “Fine by me.”

Hillbilly:

You were running through the cornfields, breathing heavily. You can hear him behind you with his uneven stomps. You find a tree with taller corn stalks around it and you go around it and hide behind the tree. You hear him call out. You put your hand over your mouth to calm your breathing. You hear him getting closer… and closer… and then… silence. You hear nothing around you but the breeze going through the tall grass and corn stalks. You decide you’re in the clear and look around the tree. Just as you turn your head, you feel rough hands go around your waist. You let out a shriek and turn around to see Max with a small grin on his face. He lets out a tiny giggle behind his hand as you let out a small sigh.

“I guess I’m it now, huh Maxie?” He nods a little and squats a bit so he can be on your level face-to-face. You give him a big smile and say “I guess you want your reward, big guy?” He groaned out a small “uh-huh” and you leaned into his face and gave him a small kiss on the corner of his lips. “Ok, so now that I’m it, you have to start running ok? Once I get ya, I’m getting one of your famous bear hugs as a prize.” You smile real big and give him a kiss on his cheek. “You better start running, Maxie. Imma get that hug from you!” you giggle and you try to reach out, but he moves just out of reach as you go for him again. Doing this makes him giggle as he runs away with you hot on his trail also giggling.

He hasn’t been giddy like this before and he likes the affection you give him. Max slows down a little cause he looked over his shoulder to see how close you were. When he turns he doesn’t see you and a little part of him panics. Where did you go? You were right behind him? He turns back to the direction he was originally going to go and he nearly jumps out of his skin as he feels you jump and wrap your legs around his waist. He hears your giggles of “I got ya!” and you press kisses all over his face as he wraps his arms around your waist and makes small noises of happiness. He flushed a little feeling you pressed up against him, but most of all, he felt safe. He tightened his hold on you and started heading towards the house. All he wants is to cuddle and eat some of your cooking. The whole walk was just a bunch of loving words from you and happy noises from him.

Lmk what you guys think!!!

Requests are open!!

[sleepingdeath-light]

ideal type hcs ; disney princesses

requested by ; anonymous (12/06/22)

fandom(s) ; disney animated films

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; anna, ariel, aurora, belle, cinderella, elsa, jasmine, merida, moana, mulan, pocahontas, rapunzel, snow white, tiana

outline ; “Could you do a headcanons for the Disney princesses ideal types, and what they look for in a partner?”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

anna

anna would prioritise kindness and empathy in a partner above all else — someone who will stick their neck out to protect or help someone else without the expectation of a reward

someone who is capable on their own but who knows when to ask for help, and that isn’t too proud to admit their mistakes

someone who she can have fun with to escape the unending monotony and responsibility of royal life — but who will also stick by her side when the time comes to be serious

someone who loves her for who she is and not the money and status she represents

and bonus points if you get her big sister’s approval

ariel

ariel would pursue a partner who makes the effort to try and understand her — who will push through barriers (emotional, physical, linguistic) in order to make her feel heard and loved

someone who she can have fun with without being made to feel irresponsible or childish — who isn’t afraid to act foolish or silly with her

someone who is affectionate with her, who can match her need for physical touch and such without her needing to beg

someone who isn’t afraid to take risks and do dangerous things if it’s for something you love — be that her or one of your passions

someone who is open and honest with her, who doesn’t belittle or infantilise her — who includes her in the conversation rather than brushing over what she has to offer

a lover who is as in love with the world and with life as they are with her

aurora

aurora would want a partner who is, above anything else, kind — kind to others, kind to the world and kind to themself

someone who isn’t afraid to laugh at themselves but who will always lend a hand or an ear to those who need it

someone who is honest and genuine, but who knows when not to be blunt in what they’re saying — someone who thinks before acting

someone who doesn’t feel the need to rush through life, who can enjoy taking things slowly and take in the simple joys — thinks like freshly made bread and the grass between your toes

she’d want a partner who she could be briar rose with rather than someone who’d expect her to just be princess aurora

belle

belle would look for a partner who is always willing to learn and grow — to change and adapt to the world without getting stuck in their ways

someone who she can joke around with and make fun of without receiving anything but full reciprocation in return — someone who isn’t afraid to be the butt of a joke every now and then

someone who is honest and open, someone who is comfortable around her enough to be honest and who trusts her enough to be open — which she’d reciprocate in a heartbeat

someone who takes the time to get to know her mind rather than stopping at her face — who sees her as an equal and not just a future wife

someone who can be themselves around her and who she can be herself around without judgement or hesitation — just love and folly and conversation

cinderella

ella is the type who would look for a partner that she can be herself around — someone who loves her for all of her passions and eccentricities and that doesn’t expect her to be perfect

someone who appreciates and accepts her independence, never pushing her into any specific role, without forcing her back into the position of complete isolation she was in growing up

someone who can make her laugh but that won’t shy away from her when she’s upset — who accepts her in her entirety rather than only sticking around when she’s happy

someone who holds respect and empathy for everyone no matter their background or appearance — who would have treated her kindly even when she was a house servant

all in all, ella would want a partner who loves her for her and who she doesn’t feel the need to hide parts of herself around — someone who lets her come into her own as a person whilst the relationship progresses

elsa

elsa would want a partner who understands her — who takes the time to learn her boundaries and respects them without question, as she would for them in return

someone who gets her hesitance and isn’t afraid of her because of her gift — they don’t have to admire it or be in awe, just see it as a part of her

someone who doesn’t mind the cold and who won’t force her to stifle herself again

someone who loves her family (chosen and given) as much as they can — who adores anna, jokes with kristoff and who respects the legacy and memory of her parents

she’d want someone who she can have fun with but that isn’t opposed to discussing things that are serious when needed

jasmine

jasmine values a partner who is spontaneous but not in an actively dangerous way — like they enjoy adventure but not putting other people in harm’s way

someone who is fun and adventurous and who is eager and able to show her the world beyond the walls she grew up in

someone unlike all of the stuffy, pompous suitors that come filing in and out of the palace doors every day

someone who isn’t afraid to be unique and affectionate and silly and childish no matter the company

oh and someone who likes cats because raja is here to stay

merida

merida looks for a partner who is as independent as her and who isn’t going to expect her to be reliant on them

someone who is capable on their own and able to handle themselves if the worst happens — whether that’s a war or a loss in the family

someone who loves her family or at the very least makes the effort to get along with them

someone who isn’t afraid to argue and bicker, who doesn’t expect everything to be all roses and sunshine all of the time and bails when things start to not look so perfect

someone who has a good sense of humour and is able to match her wit and jokes without taking offense

but most of all: someone who is looking for a life partner to have fun with, not someone to be subservient to them

moana

moana would seek out a partner who is able to match her energy and mind — who she can talk to without limiting or censoring herself

someone who respects tradition and routine without abandoning or scorning any chance of change and growth — who will support her in bringing her village to a new age of exploration

someone who is willing to step outside of their comfort zone every now and then, but who is able to tell her when they have reached their limit — someone who can be honest with her and who she can be honest with in return

someone who she can bounce ideas off of and who will come back with new routes and theories and concepts that she can bring to the community for approval

she’d want someone who is their own person and respects her independence, but who she can come together with to become better in one way or another — a partner that encourages her growth, not one that hinders or stunts it

mulan

mulan would value a partner who isn’t afraid to be daring and step outside of their comfort zone — someone who balances routine/expectations and growth/adventure in a similar way to herself

someone who isn’t afraid to challenge her and themselves — who is willing to make mistakes and stumble without giving up entirely

someone who loves adventure and taking risks, but that can also enjoy the quieter and plainer aspects of domestic life — cups of tea, star gazing and reading

someone who loves her for her — not for the warrior nor the maiden but for the woman behind that legend

she’d also want someone who respects her and her family without being a complete doormat who is unwilling to speak for themselves — independence mixed with politeness

pocahontas

pocahontas would look for a partner who is willing to learn and grow and isn’t too caught up in themselves and the past to do so

someone who is willing to be patient and listen to the world around them in order to understand it — the water, the wild life, the wind

someone who won’t stifle her need for adventure and who will help her explore the world — travelling together to see more of the world with open minds and open hearts

someone who will stick with her through it all — protecting, listening, learning and growing as a couple and as individuals through the good and bad parts of life

someone who isn’t too proud to be kind or too stuck up to have fun and make mistakes — because that’s what life is about

rapunzel

rapunzel would appreciate a partner who is able to match her enthusiasm and passion for life — or, at the very least, someone who can understand it

someone who isn’t afraid to let their guard down and get their hands dirty — who is happy to let loose and have fun

someone who will listen to her without judgement and who will support her when she’s at her lowest — and that won’t turn her down when she tries to help

someone that doesn’t yell or lie, someone that approaches arguments clearly and honestly — who sees it as ‘us vs the problem’ and not ‘me vs you’

someone who is able to let themselves be silly and stupid and childish and not feel the need to be serious and sad all of the time — someone who is able to be their full self around her

really, she just wants someone to be herself around who won’t judge her for it

snow white

snow would probably find gentleness an attractive trait in a potential partner — that and a willingness to be kind without the expectation of receiving any reward for it

she’s a gentle soul and wouldn’t be compatible with someone who is volatile or combative — especially during disagreements where she tries to seek out a compromise and speak concisely (us vs problem) instead of raising her voice and trying to be right (me vs you)

someone who can let go of their ego when necessary and let themselves be wrong when they’re wrong — someone who is reflective enough to know when they’ve made a mistake

someone who loves animals or who at the very least treats them with empathy and tries to help out where they can

someone who is honest with her but not blunt — being open without being cruel

oh and someone who loves her cooking and baking as that’s how she shows her love

tiana

tiana would look for someone who isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty — who is willing to put in work to get what they want rather than just expecting everyone to do everything for them

she needs someone who is independent but that works well with others as well, a team player who doesn’t need to be told what to do in order to get things done

someone who will stick by her through the tough times — providing emotional support and labour when needed without judgement — instead of someone who will just lay low and only be with her during the good bits of life

someone who isn’t afraid to admit when they’re wrong and who isn’t too proud to be emotional and vulnerable — she needs honesty, really

or, in other words, she needs someone who understands and trusts her and that she can trust in return

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Dbd Bikini

Requested: Yes [can u write huntress, charlotte, ghostface, and pig's reaction to the survivor they've been making sexual advances to ending up in a veyr small bikini on a game with them?]

Warnings: ✨Spice✨

Huntress

Why are you in your underwear???? Is her first thought, whining in dismay as she wraps you up whatever cloth she can find. Whether it be the cloth on the pews in Father Campbell’s or the drapes from the Thompson house. Hell, the shirt off her back if it’s the only thing she can find! Not that she’s displeased with seeing you in such a state of undress but she doesn’t want anyone else to look at what’s hers! She’ll instruct you to stay hidden in a locker, covered in blood when she finally returns, eager to rip off that bikini and feel your skin on hers.

Charlotte

Charlotte, much like Huntress, thinks you’re in your underwear. Though unlike Huntress, she thinks that maybe it was not your choice. Did someone steal your clothes while you were bathing? It’s possible, she’d seen people do it before, when she was roaming the woods. Cruel prank and she was sad at the thought that someone was being mean to you. She’ll approach you quickly, sitting you in front of the fireplace in Ormond, telling you not the move as she goes to try and find something for you to be covered with, eventually showing up covered in blood with what you’re pretty sure is Vittorio’s jacket in her arms.

Ghostface

That outfit is very much Ghostface approved. Especially when he notices a design just like his mask is printed all over. He acts shocked, as if he didn’t bribe the Entity to do this for him after successfully sacrificing a LOT of your friends to her. No matter though! He’s more than happy to warm you up in this cold weather. His gloved hands running up and down your sides when your back is turned, just out of sight. Making you feel like you’re going crazy because you could have sworn someone had just touched you. That they were watching you.

Pig

Amanda is so amused when you show up in a trial with her wearing little more than a string from clothes. She wants to ignore it but….hmm, she does enjoy the sight of your rounded cheeks, the bikini string snug between them. She could practically see what what underneath. Maybe is she had time at the end of the trial, if you were still alive by then, then you both could play a little game together. One that she was sure you’d enjoy too.

[disneeznuts]

Masterlist

-𝙏𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙙-

𝙁𝙡𝙮𝙣𝙣

𝙍𝙖𝙥𝙪𝙣𝙯𝙚𝙡

-𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐠-

𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐞𝐧

𝐓𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞

-𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬-

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝐌𝐞𝐠

-𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐧-

𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐧

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠

-𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐨 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐜h-

𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝

𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐢

-𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐞𝐧-

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡

𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐚

𝐄𝐥𝐬𝐚

-𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝟔-

𝐓𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧

𝐆𝐨𝐠𝐨

𝐖𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐢

——

Likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

[r3dkn0ts]

huntress, knight and singularity congratulating killer!reader who’s brand new to the realm on their first 4k?

This sounds interesting! Let's give it a go!

Killers reacting to their Killer!S/O's First 4K

The Huntress / Anna - She's definitely celebrating with you in her own little way. Anna isn't a drinker, but she may offer you something physical like a massage or even carve a little animal for you out of wood. - Anna's gonna give you so many kisses on the forehead as congratulations. Many, many smooches.

The Knight / Tarhos Kovács - Bring out the mead! As expected, he's gonna bring Alejandro, Durkos, and Sander to celebrate alongside you two. It'd be stupid not to! - If you're not into alcoholic beverages, Tarhos will be a bit disappointed, but he'll get over it eventually. There are ways to celebrate festivities without losing your consciousness! - After the three guards have finished drinking all the mead they could find scattered around the borgo, you and Tarhos could finally have some alone time. Although, most of the time would most likely consist of you curling into his side and resting after taking off his heavy armor and brushing out his tangled hair.

The Singularity / HUX-A7-13 - Sorry to burst your bubble, but HUX simply feels no need to celebrate such a feat. Being an artificial intelligence has its benefits, but also its downsides. One of those downsides is not finding joy in much of anything, much less little accomplishments. - If you told him about your 4K and expected anything more than the emotionless "congratulations" that you received, sorry. Maybe if you got lucky, he'd give you a little pat on the head with his arm that isn't a gigantic rusted blade.

[boybandposter]

[Headcanons]

⤷𐙚 featuring: Anna 🤍

⤷𐙚 this was the second part to another request ! thank you for requesting me anon ♥︎

⤷𐙚 WLW ♥︎

₊˚ʚ 🤍₊˚✧ ﾟ.

- The day you met Anna, you two immediately clicked. After meeting at an art class in your boarding school, you couldn’t help but notice the meticulous detail in her paintings. In your eyes, it lacked the personality that most art held, but it was impressive how she captured the likeness of any scene. After approaching her and complimenting her, you two were always seen with one another.

- Whether it be at your own house or Anna’s, it would always be filled with afternoons of painting and watching her practice fencing. Watching her handle a blade was similar to watching her brushstrokes— planned and precise. It was mesmerizing how aggressive she could be as such a gentle soul, which has inspired many of your paintings of Anna.

- Even though Anna has a “glass half full” mentality, she’s nearly ranted to you about how frustrated she secretly is about not being good enough. The amount of time she’s spent on art, only to be told time after time about the lack of emotion that was in her pieces. Anna has spent many nights crying to you, only for her to put on a smile the next day. It worried you, but all you could do was offer your unending support for her.

- After two years of knowing Anna, deep down you had come to realize your feelings for her. Luckily for you, she had as well. The two of you had painted one another portraits to express your love for one another. With paintings tucked under your arm, both of you confessed under the light of the moon, giggling and kissing one another senselessly.

- I feel like with Anna being colorblind, you would be the one helping her with clothing shopping. It was almost like Anna was your dress-up doll, and she was more than willing to do so for you (plus, she’d much rather let you make those decisions for her).

- At times while Anna is engrossed in her painting, you’ve caught her off guard— making her jump from the disturbance. She’ll never be upset about it though; she considers it a welcome interruption. Nothing would beat the feeling when you would drape your arms across her shoulders, your face nuzzling against her own. Gods, it’s her absolute favorite.

- Anna’s a light sleeper for sure. When you two are sleeping and you move away from her, she’s wide awake. She’ll practically hunt you down to cuddle up against you— she hates being away from you, even if she knows you’re right there beside her.

- The one thing Anna will make sure of is that you two have a pet or two. She wouldn’t accept anyone who doesn’t love pets. Anna loves cats, but I can imagine her taking you on a date to pick two kittens. Her entire camera roll is filled to the brim with pictures of you with the pets, and she frequently looks back on them with a smile.

- Before you two had even gotten into a relationship, she always expressed her love of traveling. Every year during the summer, you two will take a week-long trip to wherever you two decide. Anywhere with the ocean and art galleries is her favorite, but what’s most important to Anna is that you’re happy.

- Anna cherishes the times when you clean the paint off of her skin. The gentle caresses of the cloth in your hand make her melt under your touch immediately (she won’t admit it, but she’ll purposefully wipe paint on her arms or face).

- You’ll have to teach her to communicate her actual feelings. All her life she hid how she felt— and it transferred into her relationships. Anna often pushed her opinions aside to please you, but you could always tell she was telling white lies. Anna doesn’t mean to, but losing you would ruin her.

- What else would Anna paint more than her only muse? You’ve already found several little sketches along notepads and the like, plus many portraits that Anna has done of you. She can’t help it though; you’re always on her mind and her canvases.

₊˚ʚ 🤍₊˚✧ ﾟ.

⤷𐙚 author’s note: man what a writers block tbh— I have so many ideas but my keyboard has been acting up :(

[creepswrites]

Ok I got it ok listen

Anna the Huntress with a survivor reader S/O who's like. Super duper sneaky. Like the reader survives not because Anna spares them, but because she simply can't find them! Ofc when all the other survivors are gone Anna and the reader have some time to themselves and Anna is like super confused and worried cause like "where were you😭"

i loved this, i hope you enjoy it green anon!

THE HUNTRESS (ANNA) with a GN! S/O who is incredibly sneaky

You had a unique skillset of being able to basically disappear during trials

A lot of the other survivors were jealous of this, but you couldn't even begin to explain how you did it

Every killer you'd gone up against so far had been stumped. Even Myers and he was difficult to trick

So it was pretty typical for you to be the last one in the trial - darting about as you completed generators without the killers spotting you

When you were paired against The Huntress, things went about the same

You hid, let the others take care of most of the generators, and then you'd do your part if they all were killed

They were aware of this plan and, usually, it worked

Today was just an unlucky day where The Huntress was out for blood...

You poked your head out from behind a tree. The eerie silence around you made you feel sick to your stomach. It felt uneasy - like you were being watched without anything around to watch you. You crept silently through the tall grasses, praying for anything that would listen that you could make it to the hatch safe and sound.

The trial was over. Your companions had gotten all the generators done but you were the only one who remained. From the sounds of things, The Huntress had been brutal tonight, barely giving the other three survivors a chance to escape.

Must've been a tough week for her.

You'd become somewhat... friendly? With her? If you could call it that. She liked to kill you last, basically. But, since perfecting your skills at sneaking about, you hadn't been against Anna in a minute. She must be confused as hell, the idea of which made you snicker to yourself.

Just before you could get to the hatch - your fingertips touching the door - you felt a hand grab you by the back of your shirt and pull you away.

Anna stood over you, hatchet gripped tightly in her hand as she loomed over you. "Куда ты ушел?" She practically snarled.

You blinked. "What?"

"Where were you?" She said, English words heavy with her Russian accent. "Disappeared."

A slight smile grew on your face. "I've been practicing. Got really good at sneaking around."

Anna seemed to relax, kicking lightly at your ankle. "Worried me." She mumbled.

You felt your heart clench as you stood up, taking her hand in yours. She was relatively tall - nearly as tall as Myers - but she'd never been particularly scary to you.

Yes, even when she had been throwing hatchets at you in the beginning.

But she'd grown fond of you and you'd grown fond of her. Or, as fond as a survivor and a killer could be of each other.

You closed your eyes as she pressed your foreheads together softly. "Sorry for worrying you."

"Вы драгоценны," Anna sighed, "Не пугай меня снова."

Damn, you really ought to find a Russian dictionary. Instead, you just hummed and kissed Anna's cheek. Or, the mask anyways. She still reacted, jolting and touching her face where you'd kissed her.

A soft laugh left your lips. "Hope to see you next time!" You called over your shoulder. "Or, more accurately, hope you see me next time."

Anna shook her hatchet at you as you laughed, jumping into the hatch.

[domxmarvel]

I was very surprised by how many notes my Ariel fic got,I was expecting 20 notes at the most but now it at 80 and I'm very grateful for that. But that led me to another question

[your-goth-sis]

Hi! You're still accepting requests, right? If yes, can I ask Wesker, Trickster, Nightmare and Huntress with master of disguise!killer S/O? Basically, Reader can disguise themselves as survivor and targets won't find out until it's too late. Bonus if they call themselves "Chameleon".

Hello! Yes I do accept requests :3 thank you for sending in!

Albert Wesker

You may think he has a hard time figuring out who's who when you disguise yourself as another survivor

But he's smarter than that

He can easily tell when it's you or the actual survivor

Finds it pretty cool that you call yourself the "Chameleon"

Ji-Woon Hak

Finds it pretty cool

He can't really tell when it's you or when it's another survivor

When he sees its you, he gets happy

"Oh my little songbird! How happy I am to see you~"

Freddy Kruger

Kinda impressed

Definitely can tell when it's you

When he sees you emerging from your survivor form and attack the survivor, he cheers you on from the sidelines

Your #1 supporter tbh

Anna

Her brain cannot process it

So.. You can shapeshift?

That's cool

Not as cool as throwing hatchets tho :p

J/

No but seriously, she can't fathom the idea of shapeshifting into other survivors

She finds it very confusing and can't understand it well

She finds your little nickname cool though!

[devoted-horror]

the huntress masterlist.

down below you will find a masterlist of everything i've written involving anna from dead by daylight.

— giving the new survivor hatch.