#she wears her hair in one braid because it is easy and keeps her hair out of her face

[realmermaid333]

I like to imagine that Katniss started wearing her hair in two braids again after the war. She had more positive memories associated with it, like it being her mother's or father's hands braiding rather than her own. They reminded her of lighter times, and didn't remind her of being the mockingjay symbol. The hunger games Victor. It also made her a bit less recognizable, which was another win.

She also started wearing her hair down more often. Particularly if she was going to be leaving the district for whatever reason (I'm sure she eventually got out of being banned from leaving twelve), like to visit her mom, Annie, or Johanna, because it hid her face a little and didn't have the potential to catch anyone's eye as "the hairstyle of the mockingjay". maybe she learns an appreciation for how the wind feels blowing through her long, black hair and she starts to go for walks with it down.

[babygorewhore]

Unholy Contrition

Rafe Cameron immediately wrote you off as some Bible thumping prude. And when his father died and left the entire fortune to him, he absentmindedly chose your father, A preacher, to speak at the funeral. But he catches something about you that reminds him of his favorite Porn Star. And he decides he’s going to corrupt you. What he doesn’t know is…you’re not as innocent as you act.

Okay guys the horny demon got me and I once again had to write about cocaine daddy because I’m addicted to him. Thank you so much to @xxhellfirebunnyxx for helping me with this and beta reading. I love you dolly.

Word count 5K!

Moodboard

Warnings! Talk of religion (duh) reader is a porn star, masks, masterbation, slight cat and mouse, choking, degrading, oral, unprotected sex! Virgin reader! Daddy kink! Kinda perv reader tbh but same. Slight breeding kink. And barely proof read I apologize.

Disclaimer: female in photos just for aesthetic purposes!!

When Rafe first saw her, it was at the annual outdoor movie where the pouges and Kooks got together. The pouges served food and drinks while he and his family sat comfortably in the front row. Topper, Kelce and himself watched JJ and Pope after their encounter. He thought they knew better than to fuck around with him and his friends. But he��d have to teach them. Burn it into their brains.

He was Rafe fucking Cameron. And they would learn their god damn place.

“Watch them.” He told Kelce and he got up. Kiera was getting a drink and this was an opportunity to assert his intent.

“Tell your boy, we know what he did.” His warning did nothing to sway her loyalty as she walked away. He smirked and then it fell when a girl was walking up to the line. It was the Preachers daughter.

He towered over her like most people but what caught his attention was the high neck shirt, covered thighs and worse. A cross on her neck and a wrap around cross bracelet around her hand. Her hair was in pig tail braids. She had doe eyes and bitten pink lips.

And she was carrying a fucking Bible. Which was a shame. She was pretty. Beautiful even. But he hated the church.

“Excuse me,” She whispered and moved past him. He had an urge to snatch it out of her hands and throw it. But he had more important things to do.

“Yeah; go ahead Jesus freak.” He hissed, bending down to say it to her ear. Her eyes widened and her brows pulled together.

“I-“

But he walked off. He wasn’t going to waste him time when he had two pouges asses to kick.

Your dad gave funeral talks all the time but now you were weirdly excited to go. Not that you were excited about Ward’s death but more about who’s attending. Rafe Cameron would be there and you actually thanked god for it. It wasn’t that you didn’t have your own belief system but the entire restriction? Fuck no.

But for the sake of your poor older father, you kept up the good girl facade. It was easy really. Keep everything simple, light pastel clothes while hiding what was underneath. Your nickname was Kitty from the cat ear beanie you had since you were a teenager. But your dad had a variety of nicknames for you.

All of them were gentle. Pure.

You adjusted your white lace turtleneck before your hands settled on your ankle length pink skirt. The very sight was way out of your true style but it would do for the service. Your white socks and black Mary Jane’s. Your cross bracelet, and necklace was a little overkill.

But no one knew how you used the cross in secret on your only fans.

The black thong you were wearing was already growing wet as you stood next to your father waiting for him to arrive. He greeted everyone with a handshake. Your eyes drifted over the crowd, mascara thick on your lashes as you subtly rose to your tiptoes. Damn, was he late to his own fathers funeral?

“Kitty, look who it is. Hello, Sarah.” You forced yourself to smile. She was crying with Topper on her arm. Apparently she and John B, Rafes arch nemesis, had broken up. For now anyway.

“Hi, Sarah, I’m so sorry…” You gave her a genuine hug and she squeezed tightly.

“Thank you, kitty.” She sniffed.

“Mr. Cameron, now that you’re here-“ You tried your best not to snap your head too directly in his direction but you slowly turned your head.

Rafe was wearing a suit and his hair was slicked back out of his eyes. Different than he had been running around a few weeks prior before he inherited the entire fortune.

He seemed…more unhinged. Something in his eyes flashed when he saw you, drank you in like a man after a day in heat. You gave him a sympathetic smile and you rolled your ankles, trying to seem smaller. More vulnerable. “Hi…Mr. Cameron. I’m so sorry for your loss…” You murmured.

His strong hand engulfed yours, his fingers long, covered in gold rings and warm. You looked into his blue eyes, shining on you and he said. “It’s still Rafe, little bunny.”

The nickname made you want to cum in your panties but you ducked your head with a blush. But you couldn’t blame him with your modest clothes and makeup. He returned to speaking with your father and you tried to keep your glances to a minimum. He was going to work for it.

The service was simple. Outdoors and you stood next to your father. You held a small Bible that was gifted to you in middle school as your cross dangled from in between your fingers. Rafe was staring at you. You could feel it but you wouldn’t give him the chance to meet your gaze yet.

You had a lollipop in your pocket. One you took out of your collection as you left your house. You always sucked on something. Your cross. Your dad wouldn’t think twice as you subtly unwrapped the paper and slowly licked a circle around the candy. Your tongue was lewd as you then pressed it passed your swollen lips.

You took another measure by your pointer and thumb pushing it back and forth and then you stuck it further…until it hit the back of your throat. Playing dumb, you gasped quietly and coughed. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, lipstick slightly staining. You then took an opportunity to look at Rafe.

His jaw was tight and he was biting his lower lip. Blue eyes were darkening as he inhaled the process of your action. His chest moved up and down rapidly. You wanted him to know you were baiting him. But you also wanted to fuck with his mind. So you did the most reasonable thing your thoughts came up with.

You gave him a small wink.

After the funeral, he was out of your sight. But you took the extra step by linking your second account on your instagram story. You knew he would watch it.

Your obsession with Rafe Cameron started in high school. He was a few months older so he graduated sooner. But when you first saw him, hanging around other girls and guys at the private school. Disobeying rules but having enough family power to ignore them. Turned you on. His rebellion was something you craved. Your attraction only grew when you saw him one day yank a girl into a closet and you heard how good he made her feel. Granted, you hid right outside the door. You wanted to be her.

You want him to throw you around. Use you. Take you like you were only made to be his little toy. Your fantasies only grew when you followed him on social media, he was public so you had fast access.

What he didn’t know was that you used your second account. Where you wore your sluttiest clothes without showing your face. You posted stories about sexual thoughts, songs and thirst traps of your body. And he commented on every single one.

“Fuck, I wanna see your pretty face.”

“I want to fuck you. Fuck your throat. Watch you leak with my cum.”

It was an endless amount of fun. You knew he wanted you. He just didn’t know you were both versions yet. And each response you gave him, ended with a wink.

“Kitty, you look tired. Do you want to head home?” Your father asked. You nodded sheepishly. Finally, you could get home and post more on only fans. You knew he would watch as well.

“Thank you, dad. I’ll see you later.” You gave him a kiss on the cheek and started to the car.

It wasn’t an accident you parked across from him and you saw him walking in the direction. You dipped your hand into your pocket, acting like you were searching for your keys as you dropped a thin fabric on the ground. Quickly, before he could approach you, as you heard his shoes you got into the driver's seat.

Playing dumb was simply picking and choosing when you showed innocence. As you drove away, your plan cemented and you bit your lip.

Getting home and settling into your bed, you wore the lingerie Rafe always requested. Normally you charged him more, but you’d give him a treat today. You pulled out your rabbit, spitting on it and slathering it with lube. You barely needed any on your pussy as you set your phone exactly where it showed the best angle.

You wore the cross on your bracelet as you traced your clit with it. A lot of girls did this but Rafe would consider that it’s yours. Maybe he wouldn’t. The doubt would drive him crazy. Just like he drove you crazy.

He was infamous for snorting coke at parties you were never invited to and you imagined smearing it across his gums before licking them. Or his strong fingers holding you down as he did a line on your body. What you wanted most? Being pinned down as he spat on your mouth and slapped your pussy. These thoughts drove you to easily slip two fingers inside as you grind onto your hand.

“Fuck me, daddy. I need you.” You whined. You wish he was here. You wish it was his hand instead of yours.

You tried to hold back, usually taking longer for a video but you came extremely quickly. As you laid there, sweaty and still needy. You glanced at the notifications. They were repeated. Sliding on your side, exposing your bare ass, you picked up your kitten mask and read the messages.

They were all from Rafe.

He was sending money. “Please, let me see that fuckable face. I’m begging you, kitten. I need it. I need to fuck that soaking pussy. Daddy needs you.”

You had to bite your lip to keep from chuckling.

Normally, you just winked. But this time, your fingers swiped and you replied.

“Work for it, daddy.”

Rafe couldn’t get the image out of his head of you sucking the lollipop out of his fucked up head. You were the preacher's daughter for god's sake. Someone he teased for being some sort of Bible thumper and she probably didn’t even know what kinky meant. But…god she was pretty. The way she innocently batted her eyelashes at him like a bunny. That was what stuck out to him. A little bunny rabbit.

And then she winked at him. It felt so pointed. Purposeful. She also dropped a black damp thong on her way to her car. Rafe snatched it up before anyone could ever see it and he half scoffed and moaned. A creamy stain that was recent. Either she secretly touched herself or she was so wet that it soaked through and ran down her pretty legs.

The last words of the mystery girl on Only fans, who was his favorite porn star, gave him more than a wink this time. Work for it, daddy.

It made him cum all over his hand again just from her words so he couldn’t even imagine her pussy. But the doubt. The doubt was there. But she was-he clenched his fist. It was during the day and he had a second to breathe in between meetings.

Rafe typed her name on instagram.

As he suspected, it was mostly scenery shots, half faced selfies and photos with your father. A few of them you were smiling, apparently whoever took the photo made you laugh when you were at the beach. He almost swiped to another photo when he narrowed his eyes.

It was very small. He almost missed it but there was a small…handprint? Right below your swimsuit above your thigh. It had to be your hand, given the size but his mind drifted to a particular video where mystery girl spanked herself to his request. Was he being paranoid? He looked at another photo, a flashback to your graduation where John B took you to prom. And he felt at twitch in his jaw. But not before another detail caught his attention.

Underneath your bracelet. Left wrist. He saw a black mark. Not a mark, he zoomed in, careful not to like the picture.

It was a tattoo.

He couldn’t see what it was but his eyes widened. Mystery girl also had a tattoo there.

But you couldn’t possibly have one. Not the preachers daughter. Weren’t they forbidden or some shit? It was starting to drive him insane when his alarm went off.

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself and clicked the button. Turning his screen black. It couldn’t be you. Not this innocent girl who called him Mr. Cameron. But what if it was? He’d have to find out for himself. Anyway he needed to.

And here he was. At fucking church. He couldn’t remember a time he was here other than his dads funeral. Your dad was on the stage, flipping through a book he assumed was the Bible when he looked up.

“Mr. Cameron. What a pleasant surprise. Kitty, guess who’s here!”

He tried to keep his expression neutral as you came from a door on the left side. You wore a long light colored dress right above your ankle with the same shoes as the funeral. Your hair was in two braids with a kitten beanie, in this weather? And you still wore your two crosses.

But you were so pretty. Prettier than last time if it was possible. You gave him a small smile, ducking your head. “Hi, Mr. Cameron.”

He neared you both, trying to think of a way to subtly touch you without catching the attention of your father.

“Rafe. Um. I just wanted to stop by. Say thanks for the service. It-helped. Especially with Sarah. She’s all emotional and shit.” He quickly glanced at your dad. “Sorry.”

“No need. Freedom of speech is a gift. But you don’t need to thank me. It was Kitty who told me about him as well. So I could make it personalized.”

Rafe swore your eyes flashed. Just for a second. So he pushed. “You did? You friends with Sarah or something?”

You twirled your hair, apparently sucking on some sort of candy. When you opened your mouth, your tongue was red. “Yeah! We talk sometimes. I just wanted to help, you know?” You started sniffing. “I can’t imagine losing my dad.”

“Oh, honey…”

Rafe cleared his throat. Desperate to get you alone. “Hey-can I talk to you? Just for a minute, I wanted to ask you something.” He eyed you carefully and you nodded. Your dad didn’t seem suspicious. Which made his doubt increase.

Maybe the wink was a fluke. A nervous habit? Or maybe you did that to everyone.

You both stepped away, slowly walking down the aisle. He felt uncomfortable, wearing a suit when he wanted to feel loose. It was too constricting. You played the cross on your bracelet. He raked his brain for something or someway to look at your arm. He had to prove that you didn’t have a tattoo and he was just crazy.

“So, what did I want to talk about?” You prompt him and he clears his throat.

“I’m-“ Oh, no. What could he possibly say? “I’m trying to be more spiritual. You know, with my dad dead. I just want to have hope, you know? That I’ll see him again someday. I would ask your dad but you know. You’re more my age-“

“Oh, Rafe. You don’t have to explain yourself. Do you want me to help you? I can just…go over scriptures with you. Meet with you here. Doesn’t have to be complicated.” The way you said his name made him feel insane.

You had a tilt to your voice. The way you said the word. You didn’t sound like a little mouse for an instant. You sounded-confident. And then it quickly disappeared as your eyes flicked away. “Only if you want, I mean if you don’t, I understand-“

“No, I’d love that. And I also wanted to apologize for what I said. A while back.” This was the most awkward conversation he’d ever had in his life. You started twirling the end of your hair with a painted fingernail.

He squinted, trying to see any sort of ink. Nothing. He was right. And now he was stuck with some sort of scripture offer. “I-“ and then you stretched.

Your arms over your head and he didn’t know where not to look. Your tits were lifted, your neck exposed and then he saw your sleeve lift.

It was a black butterfly tattoo. It was medium sized. Pretty. And then he saw a few more peeking on yiur skin. Mystery girl had the same tattoo but it looked like you had more. Rafe snatched an opportunity.

“I like your tattoo.” He complimented. Hoping to get some sort of answer.

“Oh, thank you. The first one is from a while ago but the rest are new. Dad doesn’t approve but I promised to keep them covered up.” The candy you were sucking on. You rolled it around in your mouth and Rafe was bouncing with some sort of frazzled energy.

“What do you do? Outside of church?”

“I make jewelry. My own business. Sarah actually bought a few things. It’s obviously not Cameron level but I do pretty well.” A blush reddened your cheeks. Jewelry making? Damn. He didn’t have a fucking clue. But why did you wink?

He was going to lose his mind.

“That’s cool. I’ll have to-“He checked the time. He stopped here before going to the building for work.

“I have to get going. But I’m glad we talked. And I’m sorry again.”

“It’s okay, Rafe. I understand. Besides, I was still in high school and I was a little awkward.” You giggled behind a hand. Your smile was adorable and he had an urge to cup your face.

What was he doing? What was this end goal?

“Yeah, me too. Um-“

“Here,” You brought out your phone and opened the number key. “Just put your number in here and I’ll let you know when we can get started if you still want to!” She chirped as he quickly typed in his number.

Her phone in his hand was so small and he felt a twitch in his crotch. Her camera roll. It could be so easy. Just a Quick Look. Just to see. Just to be sure. But to his surprise, you took it back before he had a chance.

“It was nice to see you,” You nodded with a smile.

“Yeah! You too.” He said quietly and watched you walk away. His mind was even more fucked.

Who were you? Or who was the mystery girl? For once in his life, he did consider praying for an answer.

Getting more tattoos at the same time he showed up at church wasn’t planned but it worked out exactly to your favor as you shut your room door with your hip and set your bag down. But you saw the wheels turning in his head. He was taking the bait and you smirked. This was almost too easy. Trapping him. But he was so desperate.

You needed to spark something in him, either get him to ask directly or get him to cave.

Adjusting your hair in your car mirror, you scanned your white dress for any stains. The small flowers decorating the fabric and your cross on your body. But this time you wore a pair of boots that your father nearly had a heart attack with. They were completely different than you normally wore. But you needed more proof that you were his favorite little bunny.

The church loitered with a few people, as they normally did after a Sunday service. Your knee bounced as you waited for Rafe as you sat in the front. You had a few scriptures in mind, ones to stir him and you knew he’d never imagine were in the Bible.

“Sorry, I kept you waiting.” His raspy voice caught you by the surprise but you slowly turned and looked up at him.

Rafe wasn’t in his suit today, instead his casual clothes but there was nothing casual about the way he was staring at you. His eyes were on fire. Full of desire and confusion.

“Oh! That’s okay, Rafe! I wasn’t waiting long! Please sit,” you scooted over and he seated next to you. His knee against yours. You didn’t move it.

“So, you want to hear a few scriptures, or I can pray for you, which would you prefer?” You spread your legs a little and Rafe swallowed. His jaw clenched.

“Uh-I-i don’t think I’ve ever prayed before. So the Bible is fine. I just want to make peace, you know. With my dad. But I have another problem.” You raise an eyebrow.

“There’s someone I really want. And I know it’s…against the lord of whatever. And I need some help. What should l do? How do I resist it like you?” His question hung in the air and your chest tightened. You were so tempted to tell him but that’s not what you wanted.

“Well. I just listen to what the Bible says about that. It keeps me strong. What it says is clear.” You nodded. You opened the book on your lap, “1st John 1:9 ‘if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness’” you looked at him.

“So, if you confess, God will help you.”

Rafe bit his lip and leaned in closer. “This girl. She’s a fucking porn star,” he growls. “And she wears a little kitten mask and she fucks herself all nice and obedient for me. But the problem is she teases me like a brat. She never shows her face even though I give her more money than she’s ever seen. She’s her fathers only child but she calls me daddy. And had the nerve to tell me to work for it. She fucks her cross on her pussy when she knows damn well I could do it better. But she hides. Hides behind this little innocent act with the holy Bible and looks at me with eyes that make me want to rob every single innocence away from her and expose her for the whore she is. And baby, I think it’s you.”

Your core was dripping on the bench. You were almost shaking with want and you almost had to look away from him. You felt exposed. He did figure it out. You weren’t quite prepared as you thought with his reaction. Despite your activity behind your close door, you hadn’t fucked anyone all the way. Making out with friends at sleepovers was as far as you got in real life. Your obsession with Rafe made you wait. You always knew he’d be yours. And you made it happen.

“I-“ he held a finger against your lips, cutting you off.

“No, no, no, see you’ve fucked around with me a little too long, little girl. Now, I get to show you exactly how big of a mistake that was. So, you’re going to go home and think long and hard about what’s going to happen next. For once, I think your God isn’t going to protect you from me.” Rafe pulled away and stood.

“How does it feel to be left high and dry? And by the way, nice tattoos.” And then he winked at you.

You gasped as he walked away.

Your thighs were growing damp from the leaking arousal and you were breathing heavily. Holy shit. It worked. You bit your lip as you pulled out your phone.

He had texted you. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

When you got home, your dad was out. He was gathering his sermon scriptures and then to spend time with his small circle of friends. You told him you didn’t feel well enough to go. Your mask was secure on your face as you took photos in your bra and panties.

You planned on making more content but it was getting harder because you wanted Rafe so badly. You wanted him to fuck the brat right out of you, making all your dreams come true from his earlier talk. Pouting, you started going through tik tok, laying on your stomach. But then a noise caught your attention. Sitting up, you went to grab your robe when your door was bashed open.

Eyes wide, you see Rafe walk towards you, with a sadistic smirk on his face. He tilted his head, trailing his blue irises over your body, your naked knees pressing together.

“Hey kitty.” He said, stalking towards you. Rafe kneeled on your bed before grabbing your ankles. You shrieked as he dragged you towards him and loomed over you. “The mask was a really nice touch, baby.” Rafe glanced at the cross on your neck after he tore off your mask and threw it. He pulled it, tugging you up.

His breath hit your mouth. “You want to be my slut? All those fucking videos for me. Making me crazy. Making me doubt myself. You’re gonna regret it. Open your fucking mouth.”

You immediately obeyed and Rafe spit inside. He grabbed your jaw and closed it.

“What’s wrong? What happened to that little brat? Aw, she’s done isn’t she? Fuck, and I haven’t even done anything.” He tapped your cheek harshly. You felt his silver rings against your skin.

You were trembling but you grabbed his face and smashed your lips together. You tried sitting up but Rafe would have nothing less than submission as he pinned your hands above your head and dominated his tongue in your mouth. He kissed you with brutal force and you almost came just from that. All these years and it was better than you could have ever imagined.

He ripped away and wrapped his hands around your throat. “Tell me you’re going to be good.”

Your air was cutting off and you nodded rapidly. “I’ll be good.”

“Say I’m sorry, daddy. I’m sorry for making me have to search for answers. And finally break into your fucking house.” Rafe snarled and tightened his grip. You could feel him hardened above you.

He shoved his hand inside your underwear, grazing your soaking pussy. His two fingers rubbed your clit but with too light pressure. Your eyes rolled back as your stomach tightened.

“You’re so pathetic. Gonna cum and I haven’t even fucked you yet. You’re a fucking virgin, aren’t you? A little whore but you’ve never done this with anyone but your own tiny fingers.” Rafe lent down and hovered over your mouth that was parted.

He pulled his hand away and you whined. “No, please, I’m sorry daddy. I’m sorry for doing all this-“

“I’m sorry daddy,” Rafe mocked you, his fingers shoving inside your greedy entrance. “I’m sorry daddy that I’m a dripping whore and I need the Bible to get you to fuck me.” He started chuckling as you grew noisier. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

“I’m-“ He stopped and you almost screamed. “I’m so sorry, daddy. I’m a stupid dripping whore but I want you so bad. You can do whatever you want to me. I’ll take anything but please stop teasing-“

Rafe broke then, his hand removed from your neck and you sucked in air. His mouth slammed against yours as he ripped your underwear off, and fumbled with his belt. He slid down, kneeling on the floor as he spread your legs. Your glistening cunt made his eyes darken. “You’re so fucking wet for this.”

His tongue lapped at your clit, circling it around the bud before he licked the underside with pressure. You mewled and clawed the bed as he devoured you. Rafe’s tongue slipped inside you with ease as you clenched. You were so close it was painful. But he was relentless. Slowing when you were just about to reach your peak.

“Daddy, please make me cum.” You cried out, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m sorry, but please daddy.”

Rafe stopped and yanked off his pants and boxers. His heavy leaking dick was bigger than you thought as he wasted no time running it down your pussy. “This may hurt a little,” He warned before slamming in. “But you can fucking take it.”

Your nails clawed his back as he thrusted again. You moaned so loudly it surprised you but he met you in volume. “Fuck, daddy!” You said against his ear.

“Are you going to behave?” Rafe grunted as he crudely started massaging your clit. “Are you going to behave from now on?”

Your vision went white as your stomach tightened, “yes I promise,” You whispered before your pleasure exploded.

Rafe did too, his movements stalled as you felt him empty inside you, and your damp forehead rested against his.

“Maybe I fucked a baby in you, kitten.” Rafe sneered with a fucked out look. He was still inside you. “Looks like you corrupted me to your religion.” He smirked before pulling out.

“So…” You cleared your throat and looked at him with a small amount of vulnerability. “What does this mean? Is this it?”

Rafe inhaled and his fingers went to grip your jaw. His powerful face above you sent chills down your naked spine. “If you think you’re anything else but mine, then you’re a dumb little bunny. No one will ever touch you but me. Be with you but me. And besides,” He grinned wickedly. “Your dad already likes me.”

Tagging

@imyourdaninow @drewstarkeyslut @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @slvt4jamesmarch @reidsbtch @lesservillain @take-everything-you-can @emsgoodthinkin @imyourdaninow

[mybworlds]

Run, stop, stay

Pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You, after a very long trip alone across the country, arrive in Jackson. Joel is a very lonely man and after Ellie broke up with him, he's even more alone and grumpy. Tommy and Maria decide that you're going to stay at Joel's house for a while, at least until more houses are built. Will your cohabitation be easy? Or will it be more complicated than everyone thinks?

Warnings: use of you, use of alcohol, loneliness, suicidal thoughts, suicidal attempt, a short story about sexual assault that occurred in the past I won't go into details, another SA in the present days, PTSD, violence, blood, lots of sexually explicit content, use of petnames, dirty talk, fluff elements, mutual pining, the main characters spy on each other for a while, the image of the female character has the sole purpose of representing the character, but you can imagine her however you want, no physical description of the female character except for long hair often gathered in a ponytail or braid, she wears a bra and jeans (most of the time).

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Masterlist

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics.

You run frantically through the woods, you don't even know how long you've been running in those damned woods, you trip over a large root and you fall on your hands and knees on the muddy ground. Your hands and knees burn, but you can't stop. You can't think right now, what you can do is run, run as fast as you can. You have to keep running, that thing is still chasing you. Those verses echo in the woods, you don't want to scream, you don't have to or you will attract others on you and then it'll be worse.

The skin on your hands and knees throbs, but you have to continue, you run, run faster and faster still hearing those gasps getting closer and closer, then the sound stops the moment you trip over something and sink into the soft ground. You hit your head violently against what appears to you to be stone or slush, losing consciousness.

When you recover, it's night and you can't move. Everything hurts. Your head throbs, your hands feel dirty and sticky, your legs feel soft and almost as if they aren't part of you.

You've fallen into a trap and you don't know how to get out of it, but at the moment you can't and because you're hurt and because it's night. And at night you know, it's better not to move as the dangers are greater.

You observe the segment of moon rising high in the sky, it's so bright now and in that moment you can see what has happened to you even if only partially. You look at your hands and discover them full of soil, raised skin and now dried blood.

You almost feel like your legs are broken, you have an indescribable pain, you know that you are not about to die, but you have the horrible sensation of a pain that is overwhelming and devastating you.

Oh, if only you hadn't been so stubborn and stayed with your friends there in that damn QZ, maybe you wouldn't have lived hand to mouth, maybe you wouldn't have fought and killed to survive, maybe you wouldn't be in that trap now. Maybe whoever made it is dead or no longer in the area and no one will ever know you are there. You're cold, so cold, shivers ripple your skin, you shiver, shrugging your shoulders. Everything hurts, so much. After what seems like hours to you, you open your eyes hearing various footsteps, your senses are on alert, you open your eyes wide, prick up your ears and take, with a groan full of pain, the gun from your now worn backpack and point it towards the way out of that trap you fell into. Those footsteps are getting closer, closer and closer, and then at the exact moment the figure appears you shoot. Just one shot. But it's enough. Your shot hits. The figure lets out a cry of pain and you also scream "GO AWAY!" if you weren't so scared of mankind, or rather what's left, you would have asked for help instead you fight as you've always done and will always continue to do.

"Fuck!" you hear a man shouts, a few moments later, you hear someone else “Did someone hit you?”, "Fuck, it hurts." the first complains.

“You'll survive, okay?” the second seems to want to reassure him.

"You okay down there?" the second one asks you. You are still highly suspicious so you don't answer. Instead, you reload another shot ready to fire in order to defend yourself.

You swallow, gritting your teeth tightly, you're out of breath from the effort and the pain. The pain in your legs is killing you, your head hurts, your eyes burn, you can't and shouldn't give up, but you're suddenly so tired. You are forced to stop. You have to.

Before you know, you pass out.

Joel throws a glass at the kitchen wall. He's drunk again, when he's drunk he's grumpier than usual and rarely even gets violent enough. He's been in this state ever since Ellie cut him out of her life, since she no longer speaks to him, and since she goes on patrols with everyone but him. Joel feels like he's going crazy. He loves that little girl, even if she is no longer a fourteen-year-old girl, in his eyes she will always be the one who needs his care. Joel staggers as he goes to look for another glass, almost hitting a door so much so that he struggles to stand. Tommy, since he put on a show to Tipsy Bison, advised him to drink alone at home and stop arguing with Seth, the owner of the club. Joel even threatened him once, and Seth returned the threat with a threat to get him kicked out of Jackson. The situation would have completely degenerated if Tommy and Maria had not intervened. From that moment on, Joel has been banned from entering the club unless he apologizes to Seth, but he has no intention of apologizing and therefore since then he has been on his own drinking and throwing glasses and sometimes shouting at himself or the damned world.

He had lost everything, everything that mattered to him had been swept away. He had found some hope and the will to live again, but now that she too had turned her back on him, everything seems useless to him again.

Some people feel sorry for him, he knows it, he feels it, he sees it in their eyes. He doesn't want anyone's pity.

Fuck everyone!

Even his brother, when he sees him drunk or down in the dumps, has turned his back on him or gives him looks full of pity and shrugs his shoulders.

Fuck Tommy!

He goes upstairs and goes to his room, closing the door behind him. He goes to the wardrobe and takes a box in his hands, places it on the bed and opens it. Inside there is a gun, his gun. He sits on the bed and takes it in his hands and the thought of putting an end to his life, his useless life, becomes increasingly clear to him. He can't think anymore, his thoughts are confused, meaningless.

He closes his eyes. His hand is shaking noticeably, he feels the sweat beading on his forehead, fuck... Do it, just do it.

But something prevents him, he reopens his eyes to find himself trembling and covered in cold sweat. No, he can't.

A knock on the door preventing him from continuing those bad thoughts, then he hears his voice, Tommy.

"Joel, you there?"

Another knock on the door.

"Fuck..." he murmurs getting up from bed and hiding his gun in the box, then he puts the box in his wardrobe and close it. He goes downstairs and reach the door. His brother is at the door. His hands on his hips and he looks at his brother for a very long moment.

"Can we talk?" he asks.

"Tsk, whaddya want?" Joel asks crossing his arms.

"Please, I'm sorry. I was a jerk, but hey I'm your brother..." Joel nods "I had to, please try to understand, I..."

"You're a fucking asshole, that's the truth. And no, you're not my brother. A brother doesn't turn his back on his brother. So fuck you, Tommy." he speaks bitterly avoiding Tommy's look.

"Joel, c'mon... okay, I'm sorry. Okay? I dunno what to say to convince you."

"You can do somethin'. Get the hell out of my property."

Tommy sighs shaking his head and turning his back on Joel, "Yeah, do it, all you ever do is shift!"

Tommy reconsiders and walks again toward his older brother, "Joel, I won't give up, so I go back here tomorrow, the next day, the next day again until we get clear, bro." he says with a sad small smile.

Joel doesn't smile back. His expression becomes harder if possible so his brother has to back off and goes away.

The situation doesn't change the next day and for the next fifteen days.

Then, an early morning Joel makes the first move towards his brother who, despite what happened between them, joyfully embrace him. Joel's hug is just a little pat on Tommy's shoulders and then hastily depart from him.

"I mean, can we get past it?" Tommy asks smiling at him weakly putting his hands in his pockets and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Yeah, course," Joel says avoiding his brother's gaze.

"Look, we need some time, I know... but maybe you and I can we go back to make a few patrols together." Tommy suggests.

"Uh, uh," Joel mutters.

"Is it a yes?" Tommy smiles widely while his older brother rolls his eyes and shakes his head "Right?"

Fuck you, Tommy...

"Yeah, okay..." he says with a resigned air.

When you open your eyes again, you are not in that hole anymore, but you are in a very confortable bed with green blankets, it's so warm and you feel all of a sudden so safe. You open and close your eyes feeling that strange pleasant feeling. You never felt something like that. It's weird, but it's good.

Really good.

You sit in the middle of the bed and you feel stiff and sore. Your hair, usually pulled back into a ponytail, is loose around your shoulders.

"Ouch," you groan touching your head. You feel under your fingers what you think are stitches and your puffy skin. Your head is spinning, but you try to get out of bed the same. As soon as your feet touch ground, you cry for the pain. Your knees are swollen and red, and fuck it hurts so much!

"You are going to be okay, you are going to be okay," you repeat in a breath trying to not to cry again. You have to move and go away, you don't know where you are and you could be in danger in this place. So you gotta move now!

When you try to walk again, you feel so much pain like you walk among fire pits, you feel your eyes filling up with tears. It hurts so much, you clench your teeth, but you have to move.

You almost approach the door, when it opens and a middle - aged woman with long black hair shows up, she looks surprise to see you walk, but then she smiles at you. Her smile is so warm, but you don't smile back. You can't trust her. She could be anyone. She could be a danger like everyone else.

"I'm glad you're up," she says and only then you notice she holds a tray with what you suppose are drugs and there's also some food "I brought you some hot supper and there's a pill for the pain, I didn' believe you could walk. Your fall was really hard and you lost so much blood." she adds laying the tray on a piece of furniture "Can I take a look at your injuries?" she adds again "'m not a doctor, but I learned something throughtout those hard times." then she points with a hand your bed inviting you to go back.

You reluctantly obey without losing sight of the mysterious woman, you touch the bed with your knees, "Please, relax," she says again "I won't hurt you, my name's Maria." you swallow looking into her eyes "And what's your?"

You look at her, you stare at her. You don't know if you can introduce yourself, you're scared. You knew so many survivors who did the worst things to survive. Is this woman so much different?

"Look, I know you can't trust no one except yourself because your strenght helped you to survive and to survive you did what you never thought you could do," she says kneeling before you and using a very quiet tone like you are frightened animal "but since now you can drop your guard and try to go back to a life less... dangerous and more peaceful. You are in Jackson, in a community of over a few hundred people. Here people work, there's a council, so there can be no anarchy, no one could do whatever he wants because if one break rules, he's out." she explains trying to make you feel comfortable.

Even in the QZ there had to be rules, but...

"I promise," she continues interrupting your painful thoughts "no one will ever hurt you. And if someone does, well look for me and he'll be punished. I swear."

You lower your gaze, then you look back at the woman, Maria. She gives a little smile before gets up and says "Now, I'm going to check your injuries, is that okay for you?" she looks at you and you nod "Good. I won't hurt you." she adds.

And it's true, she doesn't. She takes care of you, she gives you some food which you barely touch and not because you're not hungry!

"By the way, I brought you some clean clothes, I don't know if they're your size, but these are better than the ones you're wearing. Now, rest. D' you want light on or off?" you shake your head and she understands she can turn the light off and then closing the door behind her back.

You are alone again, confused. So, you are in a city. Or something that reminds it. There are rules and apparently no one kill or rape no one. It sounds too good to be true.

You lay on that bed until the pill works, then you get up again approaching the window and you find out the woman is right, there's a city at your feet, the light dimly illuminates the road, you can hear the neighing of horses in the distance. You open the window and feel the cool evening air and then you can see for the first time with no fear the stars and the Moon over there.

You feel strange, you look around realizing you have never been in a room like that to have a rest, but you usually go into houses to look for supplies or drugs useful to survive. You have not to do that anymore, according to Maria.

Can you do that?

Maybe...

"I knew there was a catch," he says shaking his head "Maybe the two of you forgot she shot me." Joel adds.

"C'mon, bro, it's just a scratch." Tommy replies.

"Don't call me bro, you always do when you want somethin', but not this time. I came with you for a patrol, but end of the story, she won't stay with me. I have my private spaces and I won't share 'em." he blurts out putting his hands in his dark jeans pockets.

"She doesn't say a word, she's quiet probably she will stay in her room." Maria says trying to convince a reluctant Joel "She needs some time, Joel. You can help her."

"No, I can't..." he says getting up from his chair and giving his back to his brother and his sister-in-law "I can't help no one."

"Joel," Tommy approaches him and puts a hand on his brother's shoulder "You're thinking about Ellie, aren't ya?" Joel doesn't answer, but it's clear "Well, you did what you thought was right and she doesn't hate you, believe me. You helped her and she knows. Now, there's someone else who needs your help, please. Think 'bout what she lived, she's scared and she needs help, maybe your help."

"I hate you when you make these speeches 'cause you're able to make me feel guilty."

"Will you help her?" Maria asks again.

Joel sighs, "I want to see her first, then I will decide."

"Okay, follow me." she says.

Jackson is really quiet right now, the only sounds are the neighing of horses and from time to time some dogs barking, Joel is not at all thrilled in hosting who shot him, but apparently you need help and a place to stay.

Joel enter in the place used as hospital and Maria drives him and Tommy upstairs, then she opens the door and let Joel enters first. She wants to show him you are harmless, but as soon as Joel enters in the room you hit him with a bedside light and he curses covering his head.

"Go away!" he hears you scream and ready to hit him again, this time he grabs and rip the bedside light from your hands.

"Dear," it's Maria who stands between the two of you "this is Joel, he's a friend, you don't have to be scared, he won't hurt you. Please, calm down." she says putting her hands on your shoulders trying to help you to calm you down.

"This is the harmless girl, the girl I'm supposed to host, no way!" he says taking a sharp look at his brother and Maria first then at you who you're staring him with a challenging look.

"She's scared, Joel, please give her some time."

Joel leaves the room and Tommy follows him, "Why do I have to host her?" he asks raising his voice, while he sees Maria close the door.

"'cause no one else can and you are the last one who arrived here in Jackson. There are not enough buildings, and since you're avoiding work and concentrate to drink, well work's slowed down. When we built more buildings, she will go somewhere else. I promise."

"Yeah... your promises..." he says rolling his eyes "I know your promises."

"Yes, well... now, I give you my word. Trust me for once." he says and Joel can't help but reluctantly accept.

NEXT CHAPTER ➢

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 17)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death,

Word Count: 3058

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16)

Notes: heyyyy what do you know, i found it in me to get this part out. im proud.

_________________________________________

Day 195 Part 3

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You never been one to throw caution to the wind, but with what sits before you, the urge is strong.

Animals were one of the first things to go when disease swept across the world, which is why it’s so difficult not to pick up the juicy chicken breast that’s steaming on the plate in front of you, and completely ravage it.

Your mouth waters at the sight. There are greens, too. A blend of spinach and vegetables cooked to perfection in animal fat. It’s the first real meal you’ve seen in…fuck you don’t even know how long it’s been since you’ve seen real meat like this, nor food that wasn’t expired and from a can.

The only thing keeping your restraint in place is your companions' determination. The sprinkle of common sense that hasn’t fizzled into a ravenous beast at the scent of your meal is easy to overlook, but Azriel’s menacing presence beside you isn’t. His back is ramrod straight in his own seat, and the food doesn’t seem to be affecting him in the slightest. He’s undeterred by their taunts. Instead, his woody eyes drink in your surroundings for the umpteenth time, as if there might be a hint as to what’s really going on here. 

On your other side, you’re flanked by Cassian, who does look like he’s struggling to keep himself from sinking his teeth into the juicy thigh on his plate, however little it might be. It’s more than he’s had to eat in days, months, and he wants it so fucking badly.

In fact, no one’s touching their food, which is a red flag of itself, but your head is swimming at the smells, your stomach a mess of knots that loosen at the idea of food, and tighten at the thought of where your best friend could be.

You’re also a little afraid, if you’re being honest, of getting sick should you eat something this…real after having gone so long without.

Nesta watches you from across the table with a piercing stare. There’s a malice you’ve become accustomed to being fed in the little time you’ve known her. You understand that she’s worried for her sister, out there with little protection, but you’re worried too. You feel as if Feyre is your sister as well. You’ve been winning your own little war against the undead for too long to remember.

At her side is who you can only decern to be her lover, Eris. You ponder their relationship, what you saw in the woods. Perhaps they’re nothing more than companions, but with the way the auburn-haired man keeps stealing glances at her, worry etched in his brow, you know there must be more.

The chair beside Eris is filled with a near clone of him. They have twin eyes and looks of caution on their fox-shaped faces. The unnamed man wears his hair long down his back, a single braid hangs down the side of his face. It’s not a nice one, practiced, but messy, like whoever put it there was distracted more often than not during styling. The only differentiator is the color of their skin, because even the shape of their eyes and their stature is eerily similar. It’s clear that they are nothing like their scumbag of a father, and the thought of Beron alone makes you shiver in your seat.

There’s an empty seat beside him, and you can’t help the stab of guilt you feel at the sight of it. You don’t know if they’ve lost someone important to their little unit they have going on here, or if there’s a reason for the unoccupied seat.

Cassian’s stomach growls loudly, breaking the terse silence. 

“Everything is safe to eat, I can assure you,” Eris mentions after clearing his throat. Nesta shoots him a look that could make even a zombie cower, but he must be used to it because he takes the betraying look with grace, gently settling a palm onto her lap.

Nesta doesn’t shove it away like you expect her to. Instead, her lips go razor thin. The pair stare at each other so intensely that you feel like you’re intruding on something monumental.

Eventually, Nesta breaks. With a sharp inhalation, she turns her gaze to you. She doesn’t look happy, but at least she doesn’t look like she wants to reach across the table and maul you for losing her sister.

“Eat,” she all but demands. She cringes, grits her teeth, and adds like the words are truly poison in her mouth, “Please.”

“You’ll excuse us if we don’t trust you,” Azriel replies curtly. Your eyes soften as they land on him, even if his gaze is trained on your hosts. Weeks ago, he’d been wary of you, and now he’s here protecting you from the outsiders that are holding you captive.

You’ve never been so thankful for him, and you remind yourself to thank him for it later.

“Don’t eat, then.” Nesta shrugs as if his words don’t bother her in the slightest. Your whereabouts of Feyre seem to have caught her off guard because right now she is the perfect poise of excellence. Her nature could give any queen a run for their crown.

She’s the first one to dig into her meal. She uses the cutlery as if they’re weapons, tearing into the meat with a force that has you praying to any higher being that Feyre and Rhys are on their way to you, because you do not want to be on the other end of Nesta’s knife.

Your eyes flicker back down to your plate, to the shiny silverware placed on either side of your plate. Hell, you’re not even sure you remember how to use them anymore, with how long you’ve had to make do on the road.

“Please, eat,” Eris counters with a stern look that doesn’t affect Nesta in the slightest. Eris motions to his brother and they both pick up their forks, as if trying to show you everything is okay.

“I don’t trust the animals, either,” Azriel responds.

“How about the vegetables, then?” Eris offers, and you think you catch a glint of pleading in his amber eyes. You think he’s trying to keep things civil and calm for Nesta’s sake. You’re sure she’s worried to pieces about her littlest sister out there when the sun is so close to hiding away for another night of hell. “The animals are perfectly healthy, though I assure you the food will not go to waste if you don’t eat it.”

“How are they safe?” Cassian questions, grimacing down at the meat. You know that he out of everyone in your little group needs it the most. You’ve seen his protruding ribs only yesterday, and with him being the biggest in your group, he needs the nutrients more than anyone.

A sudden urge of protectiveness washes over you. You want him safe and healthy, want both him and Azriel safe and happy, and you wish more than anything that you could give it to them.

Only time will tell.

Eris gives a very diplomatic response. “My family has owned this land for generations,” he starts, and you don’t like to think of how he is Beron’s son. It makes all of the desperation to eat, subside. “We have been raising and breeding our own meat and dairy for just as long. They have never showed signs of disease, but perhaps it’s because they live a life unknowing of what goes on in this world.” You’re not following, but Eris continues before your confusion causes you to blurt out questions.

“My brother—Lucien,” he nods toward his brother beside him. “Takes care of them. When our father first heard the mumblings of a pandemic so devastating, the world as we knew it would never be the same, he built a bunker of sorts, where we continue to monitor and raise our animals to this day.”

“That was about the only smart thing he ever did,” Lucien mumbles, looking green at the mention of his father.

You get the feeling.

Azriel says, “Yeah, we’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting the bastard.”

Lucien’s utensils fall to the table with a clang that startles you in your seat. He looks sick to his stomach, his ying-yang eyes drawn down to his plate in shame. His shoulders are stiff and he’s gone so still you think he might be comatose, turning into a zombie right in front of your very eyes.

“You’ve met him?” Lucien asks, and he sounds like a little boy, reliving a trauma so ghastly that it’s altered his brain chemistry.

“Met him, killed him,” Azriel shrugs as if it was no big feat. Your stomach roils at the memory and you must look paler than normal because Cassian’s placing a. warm hand over yours in comfort. Azriel’s brashness isn’t new to you, but the reminder is too fresh. You try to focus on your hand in Cassian’s, offering him a weak smile.

The tension in the air seems to disperse with Azriel’s words. You’re pretty sure you see Lucien’s shoulders physically drop in relief, like he feels the same way you do about his father. Eris sits in his seat, stunned, but he doesn’t look upset about the news, he looks more disappointed, like he missed out on being the one to kill the crazy cannibal.

“Well, I think this calls for the good wine,” Nesta says, and you swear you see the corners of her mouth threaten to tug into a satisfied smirk.

She glances at you from across the table, and you pick up your fork.

You hope that this is the first of many things that you will agree with her on.

There is little conversation while you eat. Azriel’s brows are drawn in tight, and his mouth is set in a hard line. He keeps glancing over at you with a scolding heat in his eyes, but there’s a sliver of worry that makes you ache, like he thinks you might keel over from the chicken.

If you do, you’re not even sure you’ll be mad. It’s good fucking chicken.

You try to savor it, to eat slowly so that your body doesn’t reject the first real meal you’ve had in forever, but you can hardly control yourself. You feel like a rabid animal, hungry enough to gnaw your own arm off. You wonder if this is what the zombies outside feel like, an insatiable hunger, or if they’re so mindless they don’t feel anything at all.

You reckon you have only minutes before the food makes its reappearance, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you slide your silverware onto your empty plate, trying to deter yourself from leaning forward and licking it clean.

Cassian has no such reservations.

“How long has it been since you’ve tried to contact my sister?” Nesta asks when the three of you have finished. Even Azriel couldn’t help but clear his plate, though he did take the longest of the three of you, more than mindful of your captors.

It makes your heart swell that he has kept an eye out for you and Cassian.

Azriel and Cassian share a look over your head, debating how much to indulge. But this is Feyre’s sister, and they want to find her and Rhys just as much, so they relent.

“We tried getting through to them this afternoon, before we ran into you,” Cassian explains. “They were too far out of range.”

“Call them again,” she demands, and Eris opens his mouth to protest but Nesta is clearly done with niceties. “No,” she snaps at the man beside her. “We have given them a place to stay and a warm meal. It’s time for them to do something in return.”

You don’t mention how you didn’t have a choice but to be here, and that they wouldn’t have had to give up their food if you were still wandering out in the woods, but your stomach is too full to argue that point.

Cassian tugs the walkie-talkie from his pocket and switches it on. The static is loud, and you all wait in anticipation until the signal calms a bit before he clicks the button on the side and makes the call. “Rhys? Feyre? Are you out there?”

It’s like waiting for a cure as the six of you listen to the channel. Nothing comes through, and Cassian calls again, to no avail.

“We’ll keep trying,” he says, a determined look in his eye. You’re pretty sure that’s the only thing keeping Nesta in her seat, because she looks like she will reach across the table and stab you with her knife.

Movement in the corner of your eye makes you flinch. Cassian’s arm reaches out to block you and Azriel’s already halfway out of his seat, ready to tear you away from the threat that stumbles into the doorway.

The threat comes in the form of what must be Feyre’s other sister, Elain. She looks ghastly, skin as white as sheet, and as well-fed as Eris’ claims them to be, she’s all skin and bones. Her brown eyes are dull and sunken, purple-rimmed as if she hasn’t had a peaceful night of sleep in years. Her blonde-brown hair sits limp on her head, knotted at the back, as if she’s been drained of all of the health in her life.

She looks like a zombie.

Nesta jumps from her chair at the same time Lucien does, the both of them rushing for Elain. Lucien gets to her first, catching her just as her knees give out and scooping her into his arms. Her head lolls against his chest as if the effort to keep it upright is a burden too much, but her dazed gaze sharpens when it lands on you.

You’re frozen in your seat. You have no words for what you’re seeing, the sickly girl who looks closer to death than a zombie. Your heart pounds a thousand miles a minute in your chest, and your fingers are white-knuckled with confusion and fear where they’re wrapped around Cassian’s forearm.

Elain’s brown eyes widen in a way that looks unnatural for her once beautiful face. Her cracked lips form husky words that are so ominous it has the hair on your body standing on end.

“Twin ravens are coming, one white and one black. One has an injured wing.”

Lucien hushes her softly, murmuring to her as he removes her from the room. “Shh, Elain. Let’s get you back to bed, petal. You shouldn’t be expending so much energy until you’re feeling better.”

Guilt stabs you a thousand times over as he takes her away. It doesn’t take long for you to connect the dots with what you’ve seen. How sickly she looks, the faraway look and ramblings that don’t make sense.

“When did it happen?” You blurt, eyes darting from a stoney-faced Nesta to a grimacing Eris to the door Lucien and Elain disappeared through. You don’t like the feeling that overcomes you, the one that wants you to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible.

Something isn’t right here.

“It’s late,” Nesta states, looking between the three of you like she’s deciding how she’s going to kill each of you. You suppose she might, if she feels any sort of threat to her sister. For now, she needs you alive, if only to help find her other sister. She won’t dump any of you out yet, unless you can’t prove your worth.

Not unless Feyre is dead.

Azriel tucks you carefully behind him, more than aware of the threat before you. You can tell that he’s just as confused as you are. There’s a tightness to his shoulders that you don’t like, an edge to the strain of his body that screams danger.

His mouth opens to speak, but he’s cut off by the sudden voice that comes over the walkie-talkie.

“Cassian? Azriel? Do you copy?” Rhys’ panicked voice sounds through the machine. More than one emotion threatens to consume you, relief and worry. The full meal in your belly swarms like crashing waves, and you might just throw up after all.

Cassian, Azriel, and Nesta all lunge for the radio. Eris gets his hand around Nesta’s bicep and pulls her away, much to her reluctance. She claws against him but he’s only keeping her away from the three of you, still very much a threat.

Not that you’d be of any assistance should either party try to attack. You’ve collapsed in the closest chair.

“Rhys?” Cassian calls back, just as frantic. His terrified hazel eyes are locked with Azriel’s, and it’s all the black-haired boy can do to console Cassian with a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Can you hear me? Where the fuck are you?”

It wouldn’t mean much to Nesta, who’s given up her struggling to listen into what’s happening, but to Cassian, you know the touch means everything.

Anticipation skyrockets throughout the room, bringing the temperature up to boiling as you await his response. Each second feels like an eternity, and you’re sure the vein throbbing on Nesta’s forehead is about to explode when Rhysand finally responds.

It sounds like he’s running. You pray that’s not a groan of the undead you hear in the background. “Fuck,” he curses in such a hopeless way that makes your heart drop to the floor. Whatever he’s about to say, it’s not going to be good. “I need you to come find us. I don’t know where the fuck we are, but we need help.”

Azriel rips the walkie-talkie from Cassian’s hand, ready to take the lead. He pockets one of the knives at the table and you can’t even muster the energy to joke about how a butterknife won’t be the best weapon against a horde of zombies because you’re more than ready to follow him into the fray, sans weapons, if all to save your friends.

“Where are you, Rhys? I need landmarks.”

 “Az,” Rhys breathes, but he doesn’t sound relieved. In fact, he sounds spent, and there’s no sign of Feyre on the other line. “We need help. Badly. Feyre’s been bitten.”

And hey, your dinner does make its reappearance after all.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36  @bionic-donut @queserasera @applepie02  @azrielsbabyg  @arcadianmoonlight  @pradaxstyles  @illyrian-dreamerdreamer @reiincarnatiion  @fuckthatfeeling  @shadowsingersmate24 @poppyalice2001  @fallmyriad  @sstrohma  @tcris2020 @jeannineee  @21stcenturytaegi @ochiolism @secretly-here @harrystylesfan2686 @i-am-infinite @lees-chaotic-brain @eternallyelvish @lilah-asteria @randombibitch @st4r-girl-official @nanisearchinginnerpeace (i hope you see this idk if this tag worked 😭)

IDK if any of these tags are going to work but someone plz lmk 💙

[lizzieisright]

Stop the world (I wanna get off with you)

masc!reader x fem!Abby

Palestine: what can you do

Summary: You're tired of all this mandatory social stuff during another charity gala you attend. You watch Abby and wish for the time to stop so you two can have a moment.

Tags: Rich reader wears tuxedo, no other descriptions otherwise. Abby wears a dress (and she looks fucking stunning). For smut in the second half: fingering (r!abby), oral (r!abby), no power dynamics.

Notes: I blame Arctic Monkeys for this. (it wasn't even supposed to have smut, but I got carried away.)

/-/-/-/-/-/

It's been two hours since the gala started. You don't like those things: your social battery dies after the fifth person starts small talking with you - but you visit them anyway. It's for the greater good and you love charity, especially since your successful business lets you earn more money than you'd ever need in this lifetime - so you put them to work.

There's also two other, smaller reasons why you visit these events, and they're personal to you.

The first reason is vain. It's an excuse to wear the finest tuxedo you have - even though right now your bow-tie is undone and lies on your collarbone quite fashionably, and you can't be bothered to stand up from your seat as you nurse your non-alcoholic drink and stare at the most expensive pair of leather shoes you own. You're tired and ready to go home, but you catch the glimpse of yourself in the mirror and smirk - you look hot. Hot and rich. Your ego can’t get bigger.

The second reason has been going around the room talking to people and laughing, holding a glass of champagne and barely drinking from it. 

The second reason is wearing a gorgeous silk golden dress that shows off her cleavage, her shoulders, her waist and her long legs. Her hair is plaited into a fluffy braid which makes it look weightless and beautiful. Your second reason looks like an amazonian goddess and you can’t take your eyes off of her. 

You kinda wish the world would just stop for the two of you. 

Abby catches your gaze and smiles - you smile back and raise your glass. You don’t want to go and talk - she is really the only person you like in this room - and you’d prefer to have your conversation private; although getting Abby alone isn't easy to do when she is working. Abby chuckles at your tortured expression but goes back to the conversation, nods as she listens. 

Abby is magnificent and you admire her for what she does: she is very successful for her age, one of the leading doctors in the hospital that is hosting the gala. It’s rare when you could see her in anything else than scrubs, let alone a beautiful dress, and you don’t even feel bad about it - Abby wears scrubs because she helps people. She saves lives. All these fancy dinners and galas and dresses are tools for her to help her cause - to create more charity programs, to get medication more accessible, to get medical care accessible. There are no words to describe your admiration for Abby, but you hope your actions show enough. 

So you don't distract Abby from doing her work, but keep watching her from afar, enjoying her every move, every curve that this dress shows, every flick of her braid and every sparkle of her eyes. She is just so fucking beautiful. 

Half an hour later you start to get a little impatient - so you go to the balcony to let your ears rest from the whole buzz around you. You’re tempted to find Abby at this point, but she finds you first. You hear the clicking of her heels on the marble and smile before turning to face her. 

“Hi.” Abby says sweetly and you melt. 

“Hi.” You say almost dreamily, as if you can't believe she is here. 

You take your jacket off to put it around her shoulders, and Abby blushes, beautiful pink highlights her freckles. You watch her in adoration and she blushes harder when she notices the depth of tenderness and love in your eyes.

“You look gorgeous.” You tell her and Abby can’t keep herself from smiling, a little shy. “I’m glad you decided to wear a dress today.”

“If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I would’ve dared to.” Abby says. She is impossibly cute when her youngish shyness takes a hold of her. “I still have to meet some people.” 

“Yeah. We’ve got people to see, places to go. I know.” You chuckle and caress Abby’s cheek reverently. She closes her eyes for a moment, basking in your touch. “I wish we could just stop the world and get off.”

Abby laughs quietly, a melodic sound that feels like home. 

“I love your tuxedo.” Abby admits and toys with the ends of your bow-tie. “It does look better undone.” There’s a small implication of something dark and hot in her words and you feel the fire starting in your lower stomach.

“Love, you’re impossible.” You sigh, not letting yourself gently grab Abby by her hips. Not the time, not the place. “You have to meet some people, remember?”

“Yes.” Abby grins and gives your jacket back. Her perfume and your cologne are now mixed and you love it. “Maybe there is someone you’d like to talk to as well?”

“With the exception of you, I dislike everyone in the room.” You deadpan and Abby laughs.

You follow Abby inside anyway and now you have her on your arm, her forearm resting on yours. You’re tired, but Abby is tired too, and you support her as she goes on the last round of meeting and talking and telling people about her projects. Abby is very determined and passionate about her work, and you chuckle in your head - you have enough money to spoil Abby for the rest of her life, and you honestly dreamt about it: just having a housewife to take care of - but instead the love of your life is a constantly exhausted overworked doctor who wants the best for people. The irony of the situation never fails to amuse you. 

“It was nice to meet you, Dr. Anderson.” The last person on Abby’s list tells her and you sigh in relief. “You’re doing very important work for all of us.”

“Thank you. It was nice to meet you as well.” Abby smiles politely and you finally walk her away from the crowd.

You put your jacket around Abby’s shoulders again and support her as you lead her to the car. You can’t wait to be home already.

“The night is cold today.” Abby notices when you get in the driver’s seat. You push the temperature higher and turn on the seat heating for Abby. “Thank you.”

“I know you love it when your butt is warm.” You tease her and Abby smacks your thigh lightly. “It’s cute.”

You live in a penthouse with a gorgeous view over the city - Abby felt a little awkward the first few times she came here, this level of luxury wasn't something she was used to even coming from a neurosurgeon's family. Now she calls this place home.

At home you open a bottle of wine and take Abby to the balcony. She looks stunning in the city lights as the wind plays with her hair and the free silk of her dress as she stands leaning on the glass railings. She looks at you and there’s so much tension between you you feel like it’d be a good idea to undo a button on your shirt. Abby’s eyes are piercing and warm, the dark trickle of her pupils follows your hand as you open your shirt. 

You love how it feels as if you took her home for the first time, as if both of you are uncertain how the night will go but you also hope for the same ending. It makes you chuckle when you hand Abby her glass of wine. 

“It reminds me of the night we met.” You tell her and Abby matches your chuckle. “I couldn’t look away from you.”

“You looked so grumpy and you kept staring at me, I thought you didn’t like me.” 

“I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful before.” You take a sip of your wine and Abby blushes. 

She is still not used to being found attractive when she presents more feminine - it took her years to gain confidence when her trained muscled body was enveloped in gentle and fragile silhouettes of dresses. But the night you met you looked at her like she was holy - and you still do - and it definitely helps. 

“I’ve never seen someone so hot being so miserable before.” Abby teases you and you both share a quiet laugh. “I don’t think if it wasn’t for your scandalous donation I would’ve come up to you.”

You remember how fast your heart was beating when Abby approached you to thank you - she was shy but cheerful and you put all effort into making a good impression that night. 

“I love you so much.” You tell Abby and finally put one of your hands on her hip. You rub your thumb over her hip bone and feel like you’re home. 

“I love you too, my antisocial knight with an undone bow-tie.” 

You beam but try to conceal it. 

“My love.” You kiss Abby’s forehead, your lips linger on her skin. “My life.” You kiss her cheek and squeeze her hip a little. You move your mouth down and leave a kiss behind her ear. “My wife.”

Abby giggles and kisses you, her mouth pleasantly cold and you wrap your free arm around her waist to press her closer. Abby feels the fabric of your slacks and your belt buckle through her thin dress and it makes her shudder; she suddenly feels hot. 

“Fuck.” Abby sighs and opens her legs, her golden dress riding up on her hip when she tries to wrap her leg around you. 

You chuckle and kiss her cheek apologetically before moving away. Abby pouts a little and you laugh kindly before you take her glass of wine from her and put both of your glasses on the near table. You don't want to ruin Abby's dress by spilling wine on it, although you wouldn't mind having Abby's perfect body covered in wine so you could like every drop and watch the dark liquid contrast with her light skin.

“Come here.” Abby sighs and you obey, kissing her again and finally hooking her thigh over your hip. 

You push Abby into the railing behind her and she hugs your shoulders while she kisses you back. You moan into her mouth, your hands roam from her waist to her hips, hungry and ready to devour her piece by piece. Only now, when you hold Abby so tightly, you notice that the silk of her dress is smooth under your fingers - there’s not ridges or bumps that would evidence there’s something underneath.

“You’re not wearing underwear?” Abby shudders when she hears your voice drop an octave, desperate. 

“It ruined the look.” Abby shrugs and pushes her cunt into your crotch, the cold silk is so thin she thinks she can grind against your belt buckle and cum just like this. “And now it seems I’m ruining the dress with how wet you got me.”

You growl and kiss Abby again, rough and passionate, not letting her take a breath. You knead her waist and thigh, riding up her dress until the slit is high enough for your hand to slip under, to the wet heat between Abby's thighs. You cup her pussy and kiss her neck, and Abby whimpers quietly. 

“Wanna know what I'm thinking about?” You murmur into her ear while your fingers find her clit and start rubbing it slowly. 

“Yeah.” Abby presses you closer, squeezes your waist as if you will walk away. As if you'd ever leave her.

“That I should've fucked you back on that balcony.” You growl into her ear and chuckle when Abby's hips start moving against your palm. “Should've gotten you dripping and shaking for me. Let you walk around and pretend to be okay while clenching your thighs so your cum wouldn't drip down on the floor.”

“Fuck.” Abby whimpers and her movements become more energetic. “Fuck me, please.” 

“What do you want?” You lick Abby's collarbone and she whines. 

“Fingers.” 

You hum and smear Abby's cum all over her cunt before sinking two of your fingers in. You watch Abby's face as you slowly feed her your fingers: she is beautiful. Her cute little frown, mouth opened but no sound escaping it and crimson red blush on her cheekbones - she is God. Your God. 

“Gorgeous.” You whisper and curl your fingers inside her. 

Abby's pelvis jumps and you giggle, surprised at her sudden sensitivity. You fuck her slowly, carefully - Abby might be big and strong, but she is such a delicate woman. You make sure you treat her as such. 

“I love you.” Abby sighs while her cum drips down your hand and her thigh. 

“I love you too.” You kiss her shoulder lovingly.

You move away just enough to have some space between the two of you, your fingers still slowly fucking Abby's hole and your thumb lazily playing with her clit. Now the world has stopped and you can have her all for yourself. 

You gently brush your fingers over her shoulder and move the strap of the dress down so you could free her tits. Abby helps you and soon the top half of her dress is bundled up at her waist. You lick your lips as you watch Abby's nipples tighten from the wind, her cute little tits are all for your eyes only. 

You lean down and take her left nipple into your mouth, sucking on it gently, and Abby twitches, her cunt fluttering around your fingers. You're still slow - Abby gets so turned on when you take your time with her; the anticipation makes her so much more sensitive. 

“Baby.” Abby whimpers and presses your head closer. “You're so good.” 

You tenderly nip at her nipple and thumb her clit at the same time, and Abby clenches on your fingers.

“Baby, give me one more. Please. Make me full.” 

You buck your hips instinctively at her words, so turned on your brain barely functions by this point. You're not packing today and it's a damn pity, but you don't waste time on thinking about it - instead you take your fingers out fully. 

“You're drenched, love.” You smirk and push three fingers slowly to the hilt. “Take it.” You rasp into Abby's ear as her walls close on your digits.

Abby whimpers and bites her lip, her eyes rolling back from how good you feel inside her. It's a little tight, but Abby loves it, loves how you're stretching her. She loves the feeling of your fingers brushing over her hot walls, your soft fingertips and hard knuckles and the pad of your thumb on her clit. 

You push at Abby's sweet spot to make her moan and she digs her nails into your shoulder, her thighs starting to shake. 

“You look like a goddamn goddess.” You tell Abby in awe, but you're so turned on you can't keep your hips from bucking against her. You step closer and start grinding on her thigh, the harsh fabric of your underwear and slacks making the pleasure more intense. Abby moves one of her hands down and squeezes your ass, moaning desperately. 

“Fuck, cum with me. Baby, please, cum with me.” Abby moans and you start grinding rough and fast, grunting when the stitch on your pants digs into your clit just right. “Go faster, please.”

“So polite.” You say, panting, but you pick up your speed and Abby just gets wetter and wetter: you think you've got her cum on your cuffs by now. 

You pinch her nipple with a free hand and Abby moans louder. She puts her forehead on your shoulder and whimpers right into your ear, making you rut on her thigh harder. You're close, and Abby is close - you feel her beautiful cunt getting tighter and tighter around your fingers. You slow down and Abby clings to you, her hips bucking into your hand. 

“I'm close.” Abby pouts and you lick her neck. 

“Oh, I know. Can feel how tight you are now.” You smirk. 

It's a sweet torture for both of you - you also slow down with your grinding - but you know Abby's orgasm will be stronger after being close like this. 

“Can't wait to bury my tongue in your cunt.” You tell Abby and she gets so desperate in your hands. She clings to you, bucks her hips and tries to take your fingers deeper, and it melts your heart. 

Fuck it, you think, and then you drop to your knees. If Abby is your God, you need to worship her accordingly. 

“Baby, what-” Abby tries to say, confused when she loses the feeling of your hot cunt on her thigh, but then it dawns on her. “Please-please-please.” 

You put her thigh that was on your hip over your shoulder and push her dress up, until the entirety of it is bundled around Abby's waist. Abby is looking down at you, her mouth open and her eyes pleading, and you finally lock your mouth on her pussy. 

“Oh my god.” Abby whimpers when you suck on her clit. “Oh my god, baby, I'm gonna cum, fuck-” 

You hum, your eyes rolled back in ecstasy as Abby's taste envelopes your senses. Her cunt is always so soft and so hot, and you can't help yourself: you bury your face in it, licking her up from her hole where your fingers slowly fuck up into her, and to her clit. Abby holds your head with her hands and starts bucking her hips into your face, riding your tongue, and you relax: you let her use you as she pleases. 

Abby's voice becomes higher and louder, and she presses you closer with the heel digging into your back. It's kinda painful since Abby is still wearing her stilettos, but you don't care. You're high on her, and being pulled closer, having her scent and taste and warmth surrounding you is pure bliss. You're still slow and it makes Abby more desperate as she chases her orgasm, but she doesn't ask you to go faster - instead she bucks her hips rougher and doesn't leave you a choice but to eat her out like she wants it. 

“Baby, wait, fuck, wait-” 

Her approaching orgasm feels different, too intense - and she knows what is going to happen, but she is always embarrassed when she squirts right on your face - she wants to ask you to stand up, but she can't, lost in her pleasure. 

You know she is going to squirt as well, her walls are so tight around your fingers it is literally hard to move them and your wrist starts to cramp now, but you keep fucking her, because you want her to squirt all over your face. 

“Fuck!” Abby screams and folds, holding to your head for dear life and unconsciously pressing you closer to her cunt with her thigh on your shoulder, almost suffocating you, drowning you in her cum. 

You would die as the happiest woman on Earth if this would be your last moment: between the legs of the love of your life, drenched in her cum. 

Abby is still whimpering and you keep your fingers moving gently just to prolong her pleasure, and you keep eating her out just to get all her cum, softly moving your tongue around. 

“Fuck.” Abby pants and watches you between her thighs. You're absolutely pussy drunk, soaked to your chest and you look high. Abby giggles, embarrassed, and puts the loose hairs away from your forehead. “I soaked you.”

“Yes. Thank you.” You kiss a trail up Abby's thigh that's on your shoulder. 

“Come here.” Abby says weakly and you carefully put her leg down and get up, holding Abby by her waist. You know her legs are shaky and you want to support her. “I'm a mess.” Abby chuckles and you kiss her neck. 

“You're beautiful. I'm definitely fucking you next time we go to an event. I don't care.”

Abby giggles and kisses you, not minding that your whole face is covered in her cum. You kiss her back and pinch her nipple gently just to make her jump. 

“Let's get you warm.” You tell Abby when you notice the goosebumps covering her arms and chest. 

“You haven't cum yet.” 

“You can worry about it when you're warm and clean.” You kiss the tip of her nose and lead her back inside. 

Abby repays you thoroughly in the shower. 

[eywaseclipse]

Sully Siblings as Kids Headcanon

Fluffy Headcanon for how the Sully kids were as babies and kids

Neteyam:

By far the easiest baby, Jake and Neytiri thought they won the lottery with him

They had no problem with how Neteyam accepted Kiri when they first adopted her

Neteyam didn’t know any better: that’s his sister

He latched easiest, and sleep training was quite seamless

Fast learner

Very curious as a baby and once he started walking Neytiri had to watch him at all times because he’d get excited using those little legs to run everywhere

He started speaking first out of all his siblings learning Na’vi and English simultaneously which is something Neytiri and Jake did for all their children

Super bubbly and giggly as a baby always laughing and easily entertained

He was more attached to mama constantly gripping her legs and crawling onto her chest at night cooing into her neck

Neteyam possessed a strong connection to his Na’vi heritage like his mother and took a liking to mimicking everything he could watching her

As a toddler Neteyam showed great interests for hunting so Jake started taking him to the small river by the camp where he caught his first fish

His first woven armband Mo’at helped him make, he gave to Neytiri which she still wears

Has a small scar on his forehead from tripping and falling on a rock playing tag with Lo’ak, Kiri and Spider but he makes sure everyone knows he never cried

Kiri:

When Jake and Neytiri saw Grace’s pregnant body they immediately knew what to do

Kiri was a shy little thing but very alert and tenacious

She was colicky as a baby and had a hard time breastfeeding but eventually got the hang of it

Slightly fussy eater

Jake was absolutely enthralled with his baby girl always watching her with careful nervous eyes

She had and has him wrapped around her little fingers

Would often follow along with Neteyam watching him and copying his actions

Her first toy was a hand carved wooden Toruk figurine Jake made her which she constantly Carried everywhere; she even slept with it

She was the kid sucking her thumb all the time until Jake and Neytiri bribed her with toys to get her to stop

Proud daddy’s girl

Lo’ak:

Kiri and Neteyam were relatively easy when it came to parenting until Lo’ak showed up

He’s the wildcard baby

Came into world screaming, crying and kicking making his presence known

One word: BITER

He was the most fussy with feedings and latching took forever, Jake had to make bottles for Neytiri just so she could have a break

Absolutely obsessed with Jake, constantly following him around as soon as he learned how to walk

He developed an infatuation for tugging on his brother’s tail and tackling him and biting his ears

Also a thumb sucker

Him and Kiri caused the most mischief together

His first word was ‘No’

Lo’ak would throw temper tantrums when frustrated and Neteyam would be there to comfort him “Lo’ak why you cwyin?”

By the time Lo’ak was old enough he was causing havoc around the clan pulling pranks and getting into trouble

Jake made an extra big wrap just to strap Lo’ak to his body so he could keep an eye on the youngest at all times

Stressed Jake tf out but Neytiri has a soft spot for him the most

Tuk:

By the time Tuk was born Jake and Neytiri had pretty loose rules

She could get away with just about anything

Tuk was fairly easy as a baby but loved to tug everyone’s braids

If you held her she’d have a fist full of hair in no time

She had a sensitive stomach as a baby and on multiple occasions threw up on Jake

Once old enough to walk and talk all she wanted to do was follow around her siblings

Absolutely idolized Neteyam and because of the age difference he would just carry her around the clan as she’d piggyback along for the ride

Tattle tail

Always telling on Lo’ak because he’s mean to her and complains when she would try to follow him around

When she was little she was very similar to her mama; curious, vivacious and totally unafraid

Learned all the curse words from Lo’ak like ‘shit’ and ‘pussy’

Jake almost fainted when he heard those words from her

She secretly loves to annoy Lo’ak

Got the most hand-me-downs

[dearfae]

୨🌸୧ - dating headcanons!

the seven : heroes of olympus

girlfriend version.

4.8.24

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

percy jackson :

lots and lots of kisses

hand holding

loves your cooking/baking (especially blue waffles *wink wink*)

every time you go on a date it’s water related - the beach, aquarium, underwater restaurant etc.*

*sometimes you go to the movies or amusement parks too tho

constant compliments

lets you choose what he wears sometimes

cute nicknames

very protective and loyal (ofc)

teaches you how to fight (if you don’t already know)

swimming competitions but he goes really easy on you

pegasus racing

braids flowers into your hair

sarcastic and funny jokes to cheer you up

would literally die for you

his mom and step-dad paul LOVE YOU

takes you shopping

buys all your favourite foods when you’re on your period

needs comfort after his nightmares

annabeth chase :

teaches you a lot

hours long talks about each other’s interests

reading and museum dates !!

forehead, nose, cheek kisses

wakes up really early so you’re always awake before everyone else too

spends lots of her time thinking of ways she can make you smile

would do anything for you

picnics :)

takes great joy in annoying you by correcting your grammar or spelling

will make you do a hundred pushups if you insult any author ever

will also make you quote shakespeare

sneaks into your room at night by picking locks instead of just knocking (chalice of the gods reference)

hesitant to let you meet her parents at first

but when you do she’s really happy because you get along with them really well

you always help her win capture the flag (she protects you 99.9% of the time)

death glares/will fight anyone whose mean to you

you never have to google anything because she’s right by your side

needs constant reminders that you’ll never leave or she needs to take a break

hates surprises

jason grace :

literally the sweetest

is only relaxed/vulnerable with you

learnt how to break a few rules *wink wink again*

always cleaning his glasses

the person who dares to be mean to you better count their days

surprisingly smart

deep conversations

doesn’t really know what to do when it comes to dates or anything romantic

forgets things sometimes

keeps a little notebook in which he writes everything he loves about you

makes your birthday cake from scratch

physical touch for reassurance

teaching you about roman history is his love language

pretends to hate the nicknames you give him but secretly loves them

keeps a picture of you with him at all times

quiet around others

never raises his voice at you

sometimes you act like his mother figure (is that what it’s called?)

winks or smiles at you when others aren’t looking

leo valdez :

shit music taste (I’M SORRY)

treats you like the queen that you are

holds doors open for you

points at you and says really loudly to everyone else, “HAVE YOU SEEN MY BEAUTIFUL AMAZING WONDERFUL GIRLFRIEND??”

inside jokes

you gave him a bracelet and now he never takes it off

gives you flowers!

sleeps in

cuddles, kisses and his arms are practically glued to your waist

teaches you spanish (especially the swear words)

he COOKS

there’s never anything broken because he fixes them immediately

always makes you laugh

does skincare with you<3

shows you off to anyone that’ll listen (even if they won’t)

the kindest, most golden retriever boy ever

he’s still wary about opening up to his trauma

his severe adhd makes it hard for him to calm down so you always sing to him or play with his hair

excessive use of the words bro and dude

frank zhang :

picks you up bridal style whenever you get tired (he likes to impress you by showing off his strength)

gentle and caring

if you’re out eating together and you buy different things, he’ll let you taste both of them so you can have the one you like the most

gets flustered really easily

cheesy pick up lines (that you secretly love)

LOVES TO EAT

uses his title of praetor to take the mick out of you (as a joke)

cautious about trying new things

very punctual with time and chores

whenever there’s a praetor meeting he lets you sit next to him

you make sure that there isn’t any dairy in the food you make him

he was so happy when you learnt canadian for him

you let him teach you about his family tree

if you’re feeling sad he’ll shapeshift into a puppy or something to cheer you up

he can actually be pretty snarky when he wants to

you’re literally the safest girl on earth when he’s around

the poor boy gets really shy when you flirt with him

really good at making different accents

his writing is SO hard to read😭

piper mclean :

likes to make you blush

let’s you taste the lipstick she uses by kissing her

swears

candlelit dates, stargazing, mall shopping

buys you perfume and clothes

definitely asks for you to rate her outfits

she thinks you’re prettier than anyone else in the world, so much so that’s she’d straight up call her mother ugly

really excited for you to meet her dad

she’s your BIGGEST supporter!

you have to stop her from slitting peoples’ throats when they say anything remotely harsh to you

plays with your hair and brushes/styles it for you (she lets you do the same for her)

SKINCARE NIGHTS<3

binge watches 2000s movies - bratz, mean girls, the devil wears prada etc

you call her lots of playful names

rips down any posters of her father she sees, makes it her personal mission to burn every single one of them (you laugh every time)

loves flipping people off

she’s actually really sweet and caring

loves when you hold her hand

paints your nails :3

hazel levesque :

loves exploring abandoned underground tunnels

she made a bracelet for you out of the gems she pulled from the ground

every time you swear she chases you with a bar of soap

you help her with her curly hair

she’s so innocent (unless she’s angry, hungry or tired; then she goes ballistic)

you tease her when she gets flustered

she takes you for midnight rides on arion

she always smells like fresh rain

calls you ‘miss your surname’ whenever she scolds you

she sleeps with extra pillows

if you pass a graveyard she’ll wave to the ghosts

graceful and kind

loves nature

really good with kids

bakes you cookies on national girlfriend day

if there’s one thing she hates, it’s when people misquote the bible

sometimes she’d have major deja vu moments from her past life if you go somewhere she did the first time she was alive

gets really excited when it’s date night!

she can be so incredibly fierce and powerful but if a butterfly or something dies she’ll literally start bawling her eyes out

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

that’s all i can think of lol

let me know if i missed anything or you disagree with what i’ve put! i’m open to any criticism :)

hope you enjoyed! i might do another one with different characters!

©dearfae

[f4iry-bell]

THE PROPHECY | 1

pairing: grayson hawthorne x f!reader

summary: AU where grayson is an aristocrat and reader is from a working class. they're in a secret relationship together but grayson isnt 100% in.

warning: social class difference. ANGSTY ending.

tagging: @unnoodles @nqds @alwaysthefangirl @clarissaweasley-10 @benny1989fredd @imaseabear @never-enough-novels @elysianwayy77 @whatsamongus @sheisntyou

word count: 1.1k

a/n: ik in 1800s the entailment must go to the oldest son but it's diff here ok??? any son of the man's choice will become the new lord!!!!

masterlist

Attending balls is a part of Grayson Hawthorne’s social life. To show himself to the society and show off his wealth, to show that one day everything his grandfather owned will be his and to show that he is perfect. Couple of ladies have already asked sweet talk to him while fanning their fans trying to give him the obvious sign but his mind keeps wandering to one person who has occupied his mind for the past month.

He excused himself from the pretentious and pompous crowd and snuck to the servant’s quarters. He has done this so many times that it has become an easy thing for him to do. He thought of knocking on the door but decided to surprise her by just opening the door and going in.

She was on her bed sitting wearing an off white nightgown that had a couple stitches on it. Her hair was braided, she looked like she was about to fall asleep.

“Sleeping so soon?” Grayson asked as he stepped in making her gasp.

“You scared me.” Grayson smiled when he heard her say as he walked to the bed and sat next to her. “Yes. I have done my part of cooking for tonight's ball. So I thought I'd sleep early.”

“Are you going to? Sleep?” He asked as his head lowered to her neck, his breath causing shivers down her spine and her mind lost it when he placed a gentle kiss.

This has been going on for months since he tasted her cooking with his grandfather. His grandfather wanted to see the young lady who made the food. When she was at Hawthorne Estate, she cooked a meal for his grandfather and his four grandsons. When she was about to leave the Estate, Grayson stopped her to give her the small silver ring that she possessed which slipped her fingers while she was serving the food.

“Thank you.” She sounded so grateful, Grayson assumed it was more than just silver for her.

“Does it mean something to you? Your wedding ring?” He asked hoping the second part of his question’s answer would be negative.

“It does. It was my mother’s. I don't wear it often, today felt special so I wore it. I would have been devastated if it wasn't for you.” She smiled which made his heart skip two or three beats.

“You're welcome.”

Grayson saw her again when he arrived at a ball earlier than expected (a prank pulled by Jameson). He was looking around and observing the working class when his eyes caught her. She was arranging the plates on the table, he walked towards her and noticed that she's wearing the ring again.

“Another special day?” He asked, pointing at the ring.

She blushed at his presence and nodded. “I just felt today was different.”

Grayson was mindful of the eyes that were watching them. So he excused himself from her to sit alone. He can't have words of whisper roaming around about him and her. No, there could never be him and her.

But they kept meeting each other during balls because she's hired to cook there. He finds himself going to the balls early just to have a moment with her alone, he was getting over with people (servants) watching them. As long as his family or from don't see him it's good.

Right now, they were laying on her small uncomfortable bed very comfortably, she was laying on top of Grayson’s shirtless body with herself naked under the thin blanket as he rubbed her back gently, at first it started out as a physical pleasure for both of them but Grayson can't stop his feelings as he got to know her more and more.

“Don’t fall asleep. You have to go back to the ball soon.” She reminded him.

“I don't want to.” He kissed her head.

“You have to.”

“I just want to be with you, you know? Dance with you, hold your hand in front of everyone.”

“I wish for that too. But I must say I'm a terrible dancer.”

“I'll be the judge.”

She chuckled.

“Are you working for the masquerade ball?” He asked her with an idea in his mind.

“Yes.”

“Well, will you be able to finish your job quickly and sneak onto the dance floor?” He asked with a cheeky smile.

She chuckled. “I can. But I won't.”

“Why not?”

“That's not where I belong.”

“I'll be there, and you belong whereever I am.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I don't have proper attire or a mask.”

“I'll send you, just say you'll sneak into the dance floor, please?” He started to kiss her face all over making her giggle.

“Okay, okay!!”

_

During the masquerade ball Grayson was eagerly waiting for his love to come to the dance floor so he could finally make his dream come true; to dance with her. His eyes were wandering around to find her but was interrupted by a figure behind him. He turned and immediately recognised her and the dress that he gave her. Her face was covered with a mask but he can tell how beautiful she is right now.

“May I have this dance?” He asked her with a smile, giving his hand to her which she took immediately.

They danced for two songs, like she mentioned she was indeed a terrible dancer that she almost fell, thanks to Grayson who saved her from the embarrassment but her mask fell down. She bent down to pick it up and Grayson panicked, people can't see her here. He was praying that she'd wear it quickly back but before she could some of the other upper class ladies noticed her and started whispering. Once she realised people were looking at them and whispering about them she froze.

The hostess marched towards her. “What are you doing here?” She spoke through her teeth.

A lot of loud whispers fell in her ears.

“Isn't she the cook?”

“How did she get the dress?”

“Probably stole it.”

“I-” She was out of words as the hostess three knives at her with her eyes.

“You think you can just sneak into a ball and seduce a wealthy man? Mr. Hawthorne, I assume you weren't aware that this girl was not a part of our social class, I'm deeply sorry that this happened.”

She wasn't going to cry until Grayson spoke after a second. “It is alright. And yes, I wasn't aware of it.”

She wasn't expecting him to say that, she could take the judging eyes and whispers but Grayson standing there pretending to not know her, and embarrass her along with those people? She couldn't take that.

The tears started to come out without realisation.

“Out, you're making an unnecessary scene here, girl. You do not belong here.”

part 2

[sarah-denial-cq]

I'm on my knees, looking at another girl who's on *her* knees, looking at me. Someone is standing behind me, my long braid wrapped up in their hand. The other girl looks scared.

"strip.". We're both wearing identical matching bra and panties. We both look away from each other as we take them off, too nervous to look- until I feel a yank, hard, on my hair. "No, look right in each other's eyes. Look at her tits. You're both fucking porn, act like it. "

I feel the hand slap my ass. The other girl winces, seeing the pain on my face. "Tell her she's just porn, just like you. She's nothing."

I look at her carefully. Her makeup is running from crying. She's already been beat quite a bit. "You're just porn. You're nothing." She just looks at me silently. "Keep going".

I look right at her. I try to summon up my contempt for her. She could have been so much. Now she's here on her knees in front of me stripped and crying. So vulnerable. "You're a stupid, stupid bitch" I start laying into her. "You're pathetic. No self respecting woman would let this happen to her.". The girl starts sobbing. I feel the approval from behind me and I can't help but start insulting her and betraying her for the approval of the force of that hand in my braid and the validation I know I'll find there if I just do a good enough job tearing down this victim.

I'm going to make her a victim.

"you're shit. You're barely a person, you just sit there and strip and cry.". I start getting into it. I'm masturbating on my knees staring at this helpless naked loser crying. "Go on, cunt, touch yourself while I insult you.". She's touching herself, one hand between her legs and one on her nipple. I can't tell if she's doing it to impress the one behind me or just to self soothe or because- "fuck, you actually like this? You sick puppy. You're not even rape bait, because I don't think you're even capable of having an opinion on who gets to use you. Nobody thinks of you as anything other than a slutty, easy, fuckdoll. You're going to remember this moment for the rest of your life. I hate you. I hope you get drugged and passed around a party. You deserve to be pinned down by somebody and fucked dry. You, oh my god," the hand is twisting in my hair and this poor girl is absolutely sobbing at all the abuse and I'm filled with traitorous contempt as I realize her flush is half crying and half arousal and I see- "you whore. Don't you dare cum. You sick fuck, you rug munching cock sucking ass eating porn making easy access " I think the bitch is actually going to cum, I feel all the approval in the world from behind me as I realize this is what they want, they want to see if I can truly betray this victim they brought for me to abuse to get them off, this is my value to them, to hurt this girl, I go harder, I feel a hand on the back of my neck, "failure, nobody takes you seriously, everybody just imagines putting you on your knees any time you open your stupid mouth, people on the street look at you and imagine raping you, your colleagues call you names behind your back, you're going to be like this forever, you stupid, stupid, stupid-"

I feel, somehow, the pull on my braid that tells me to shut up. I look at the girl I've been tearing down to earn approval. She's quietly crying. Both her hands have come up to her tits. I hear the voice behind me. "Spit on her."

I... hesitate. Do I really hate this poor girl enough to do that, is she, okay with that? Do I care about that more than I care about doing what I'm told? She looks so afraid. She looks so... you know what? She looks like she deserves it. She deserves it.

I spit on the mirror.

"good girl", I hear.

[beansprean]

See the next morning everything is fine nothing's wrong nothing's wrong at alllll

My Familiar’s Ghost part 19

Masterpost

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Ghost Guillermo and the Nadja doll are sitting together on a small ottoman, Guillermo mostly floating and slumped over with his chin in one hand, looking despondent. Gaze on the ground, he asks, "How do you stand it?" Dolly, focusing on poking a wire into what looks like a bird's leg, responds, "Stand what?" Guillermo: "Being...this." Dolly: "You do a lot of complaining for someone who's only been dead a month or two. 500 years on, I'm having a blast." 1b. Guillermo lifts his head and turns to look at her, hope nudging at the edge of his expression. He asks, "So you're saying it gets easier?" Dolly, cut off below the nose by the panel, keeps her gaze on her work as she replies "I'm saying you're a big wet pussy not cut out for eternity as a wandering spirit."

2a. Shift to profile view, Dolly still cut off below the nose as she works. Guillermo turns away from her and crosses his arms, frustrated, snapping "Easy for you to say, with your body looking out for you." Dolly replies easily, "Maybe. Or maybe it's because we are standing different things entirely." 2b. Close up on Guillermo as he turns to look over at her, confused. "What?" There is a blue glow, deeper and gentler than Guillermo's, pulsing from the lower corner of the screen. Dolly starts, "Whatever you are..."

3. Zoom out to full body as Nadja's ghost suddenly rises out of the doll and takes form, the doll slumping down in her seat below. Nadja's ghost looks very different from Guillermo, more like from the show. She is wearing her old dress and veil, her hair in twin braids, and is fully translucent and various shades of deep blue, gentle wisps of light floating and fading around her form as her lower half twists itself from the doll. She looms over Guillermo with a solemn expression and cups his face in her see-through hands, continuing, "We are not the same." Guillermo stares up at her in shock, arms frozen in front of his chest as they pull out of their cross. Behind him, the black shadow looms in the form of a tattered cloak, as if it had always been there and is just now being illuminated by Nadja's ghostly light.

4a. Reverse shot as Nadja pops into view around a wall on Dolly's other side. She has her hair up in a pile and is wearing a long rubber apron flecked with blood and yellow rubber gloves that are equally gorey. She grins and holds up a dripping hand, calling, "Agapoúla mou! Are those feet ready? I have finished skinning the pigeons!" There is a rush of blue vapor in the foreground as Nadja's ghost quickly repossesses the doll. Dolly perks up with a smile and holds out two bird legs now speared with wire, replying, "All wired up!" 4b. Reverse shot of Guillermo on a black background snaked with ominous blue vapor, looking stricken as he stares after Dolly. Offscreen, Dolly says "I even cheered Guillermo up!" Nadja coos, "Oh look at you, my wonderful little helper!" /end ID

[keen-observations-x]

Demon slayer headcannons: Tanjiro

DISCLAIMER: This will contain spoilers for the Manga if you are an Anime only!

I have the intense feeling that Tanjiro is still unfamiliar with so many dishes and foods from other countries, but that he is also the kind of guy who will try anything at least once. This leads to him trying random recipes from cookbook he receives from Mitsuri, and both his pantry and cupboards are stocked up with completely random ingredients - some that will most likely never see the light of day again if they were not enjoyed by the group.

Once Nezuko was human again, she had Tanjiro tell her about all the missions they went on to see what she’d remember. And she also got him to tell her the story behind each of his scars.

Tanjiro once asked Giyú where he got the red fabric and bamboo for Nezuko's muzzle the day that they met, given that he seemingly stayed beside them till they woke up - but his only response was a fleeting sideward glance from Tomioka, an anxious one at that, and complete silence.

He has an unbelievably low spice tolerance. Not to say he doesn't enjoy spicy food, just that he can't take it very well. I think this is due to the fact that roughly 80-90% of taste is die to smell, and that Tanjiro's heightened sense of smell would amplify the heat of the dish to the level of one that is ten times as hot. I think he would much rather have a dish that is instead well seasoned, rather than one that packs a lot of heat.

His ear is slightly scarred from where Nezuko clawed him in the entertainment district, she felt awful about it when she was human again.

He has small face scars from missions (like with Rui)

He has dark circles under his eyes - as do many of the corps members die to the all-nighters they pull to do their jobs - but Tanjiro gets his from the nights he as off to rest being spent entertaining his little sister, as for a while, that was the only time he would have to see her. And to him, having a few more sleepless nights in exchange for seeing his sister was more than fair to him.

He is very stiff. He is very strong, but not very flexible at all. To this day he is still baffled as to how limber Inosuke is. Safe to say he was not a huge fan of Mitsuri's training.

he once asked Genya if he would be allowed to braid his hair. The glare he was met with sufficed for an answer.

Tanjiro, Nezuko and all their siblings have birthmarks all over their bodies, they get this from their mother.

He tans really easily, like insanely easy. but due to him wearing his uniform so often, he has slight tan lines as the cuffs and collars.

He loves head pats / massages. He is an absolute sucker for them but you will never catch him asking for one.

Not once did he ever pick up on the fact that Obanai despised disliked him because of how close he was with Mitsuri. He genuinely always assumed it was just for keeping Nezuko with him. That was until the time came for him to train with Iguro, and then it all kind of clicked into place. After his realisation, he did once try to ask Obanai if he was planning on perusing Mitsuri, as he was sure she would reciprocate, seeing as how often she talks about him! but instead, he was met with a patronised glare and a slap to the face. he did not ask any more questions about Mitsuri.

He has smile lines and dimples. FIGHT ME ON THAT I DARE YOU.

(This one is for the academy AU) Almost all the staff at Kimetsu Academy are fine by Tanjiro wearing his earrings to classes, including the headmaster, seeing as they are aware of the emotional significance to them. All except Mr's Tomioka and Shinazugawa. (Initially, this included Mr Rengoku, but once he was made aware of their origins, he never once asked the boy to remove them) These two will yell at him, swat him on the shoulder if he attempts to ignore them, or Sanemi will threaten him with detentions. After all, Giyú removes his jacket every morning to change into his work attire, despite it being dear to him as it was previously owned by both his late sister and partner, so surely the boy would manage taking out the earrings for a few hours. So Tanjiro will do his best to stay in line so they have nothing else to nag him over. Orrrrrr avoid them best he can if he's doing something he shouldn't.

And here are some physical traits I think he would have:

[buffporcupine]

death note headcanons

because i know my death note mutuals aren’t getting what they wanted from me

light

-can crack his elbows the way one would crack their knuckles

-probably had to do a musical elective in his first year of middle school and chose guitar cause he thought it would be easy but it wasn’t.

-the type of song he really enjoys is very specific. going to hell yet i tried so so hard to please god song. i missed my only chance song. why wasn’t i like the other kids song. thrones playlist. i could elaborate but i won’t

-as for sexuality, i see him as not wanting to put a label on whatever he is in theory but in practice being some type of bispec (probably berriromantic) for romantic attraction and then somewhere on the asexual spectrum for sexual attraction.

-as for gender i see him as agender whose not really in labeling himself as anything when it comes to sexuality and gender.

-agender but probably 100% fine with being super male presenting. he just wants to keep out of gender as a convo and that’s great. good for him

-no!!!!! i refuse to say this mf is aromantic (because it’s not accurate and it’d be an insult to aromantic people to say he’s aro)!!!!!

-just because he manipulated misa and kiyomi into doing his bidding and didn’t love them doesn’t immediately make him aro. i’m sure he could have found someone if he wanted to, and he could have loved them if he was with them to love them, but he wasn’t with them to love them he was with them to use them.

misa

-half belgian half japanese. her parents met in belgium while her father was on vacation.

-also im torn bcos i wanna write an au where misa is mexican and that’s it everything else is the same as canon but i’m pretty sure that’s just me wanting her to be even more Like Me (tm)

-speaks a little bit of english, way more french, and obvi japanese. finds linguistics interesting but doesn’t have enough time to research it that thoroughly

-likes being short and “small” small girl aesthetic i guess but sometimes wishes she had longer legs so she could wear skirts w/o looking silly and short

-panromantic does not see gender at all when becoming attracted to someone. i see her as def on the ace spectrum, maybe something like demisexual or aegosexual. could be me projecting dunno.

-she’s probably dated both girls and boys before

-would NOT break up with someone in a rude way or just dump them. she’d put a lot of effort into an apology and explanation into why.

-if she met miu iruma they’d be best friends. sorry i bring danganronpa into everything guys

-can we please just appeciate mexican misa for a second. she’s cooking sopa de fideo for the task and being the bilingual hot girl we all needed

-mexican misa

-as for her music taste she probably listens to upbeat english language music and sappy love songs. “there is a light that never goes out” and “melt with you” sound like go-tos for her sorry. i could also see her being a bimbo pop ayesha + britney manson girlie though

-tbh whatever your race/ethnicity is you could project it onto misa and it’d work. i love it. anyway d d d d d d d did i say m m m mexican misa

-i think she’d love love love getting her hair done!!! sensitive scalp mf but she’d still love getting her hair done

-mexican misa visiting mexico and getting braids and cute clothes and her fave candy

-was not a theatre kid. sorry guys but her middle and high school didn’t offer theatre 😔😔

lawliet

-chronically dehydrated just because he forgets to drink water. he tries to drink water and always gets afraid of developing kidney / liver problems but he just keeps forgetting. what the fuck L

-soup stan i think he’d love some good soup. soup stan x soup cooker (lawmane)

-i think you could have a really deep convo about anything with L. if you’re passionate about anything he’ll just listen and he’ll talk to you about what he’s passionate about to. he loves to think and would def entertain you with a convo about whether a hot dog is a sandwich or something dumb like that you know.

-he’s a thinker he just loves discussions

-has a british accent when speaking english bcos watari and lived in england you know. he thinks british accents in english sound good tho and LOVES making fun of how silly new york accents are (me too bro. me too)

-if he went to middle school or the japanese/british equivalent of it, he’d def be the type to choose some weird ass elective fucking creative writing instead of the “normal” guitar, choir, band, orchestra and shit

[mybworlds]

Something there

Pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You, after a very long trip alone across the country, arrive in Jackson. Joel is a very lonely man and after Ellie broke up with him, he's even more alone and grumpy. Tommy and Maria decide that you're going to stay at Joel's house for a while, at least until more houses are built. Will your cohabitation be easy? Or will it be more complicated than everyone thinks?

Warnings: use of you, use of alcohol, loneliness, suicidal thoughts, suicidal attempt, a short story about sexual assault that occurred in the past I won't go into details, another SA in the present days, violence, blood, lots of sexually explicit content, use of petnames, dirty talk, fluff elements, mutual pining, the main characters spy on each other for a while, the image of the female character has the sole purpose of representing the character, but you can imagine her however you want, no physical description of the female character except for long hair often gathered in a ponytail or braid, she wears a bra and jeans (most of the time).

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Masterlist

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

You wake up early in the morning and make pancakes. Their scent spreads throughout the house and you find yourself smiling at the thought of when you used to prepare them with your mom and you offered them to your friends.

It was a wonderful time you were experiencing. If only you had known that the world would soon end, you would have enjoyed it much more, you would have lived much more, you would have hugged your parents more often, you would have told that boy you liked that you loved him.

It's so strange to do something as simple as cooking in a time when you can't be weak or indulge in small activities like this. You wish your loved ones were here with you.

You turn off the gas and then take the plate full of pancakes to place it on the kitchen island, you turn and see Joel in the doorway watching you.

You gape at him for a moment, but quickly look down and say, "What are you doing standing there?"

"Um, I. . . I was going on patrol.” He responds by stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking from the room to you as if to make sure you hadn't destroyed anything.

You nod, “Do you want a pancake?” you ask him stopping him right there. With a slight tremor you approach him, he is so tall, so massive and he looks at you with that piercing gaze. You hold the plate out towards him "This time I didn't burn anything, see?"

He can even swear he saw the faintest hint of a smile in your eyes, your face lit up for a moment and that dark aura that always surrounds you has dissolved and you even appeared pleasant in his eyes. For a moment.

He takes a pancake without taking his eyes off your face, you feel uncomfortable, you do everything you can to keep your eyes down, but you can't help but raise them for a moment and look Joel in the eyes. In this light his eyes are hazel and are, dare you say, beautiful.

He clears his troath before to look away, "I gotta go."

You nod.

Then he leaves.

"She saved your ass, bro!" Tommy exclaims following his elder brother from a room to another.

Joel lied to you. There's no patrol, but it's probably best that the two of you kept your distance. He doesn't want you around.

"Don't call me bro!" Joel replies by rolling his eyes as he carries boxes from one room to another "You're not convincing me this time!" he adds.

"She knows you don't care about her and you keep her away from your life and your heart, because I know that deep down somewhere you still have a heart." Joel rolls his eyes again.

"Yeah, and look where having a heart got me? I only made the people I care about suffer," Joel suddenly falls silent, the weight of his words and actions seeming to fall on him again with the same violence as a few years ago "The truth is that I cannot be with others because I would only be capable of harming ‘em," Joel lowers his head "And it kills me. I made the decision for her, I was selfish, I know. I deserve her hatred, but I'd like to tell her that she's so important to me and I'm sorry 'bout that." Joel places yet another box on a pile of other boxes of canned food.

Tommy doesn't reply, he listens to his brother, then tells him "Then tell her, Joel, tell her. Don't wait another minute, go. Don't waste time!"

Joel looks at his brother's face "Not having control over what could happen. . ."

"Bro, you can't do this. Just let go, open your heart and speak sincerely. There will be consequences because it's inevitable, but at least you'll know you spoke truthfully to the person you care about."

Joel nods.

"And now let's go back to talking about that poor thing you host and that you adore!" Tommy exclaims giving a loud pat on his brother's shoulders "She prepares pancakes for you too! You're going forward!"

"Tsk, don't start!" Joel rolls his eyes shaking his head.

"What is the next step? Prepare your clothes to wear for the next day?"

And the two brothers continued their conversation, teasing each other.

You try to make yourself as useful as possible at home, you sweep and wash the floor, open the windows, wash the windows, dust the various pieces of furniture, throw away the empty bottles, make your bed. You're tempted to do Joel's too, but you're more than sure he won't thank you.

You want to do everything to not feel useless, a burden, you hope with all your heart that Joel will stop treating you rudely. He doesn't have to accept you or want you around, but at least put up with you.

Time flies and you decide to prepare lunch.

It's so strange, you still haven't gotten used to eating at the table and feeling the warmth of the sun's rays kissing your shoulders, your arms, your cheeks.

The last time you felt something like peace was before the outbreak, you had just convinced your father to buy you a piano, you wanted to play it ardently, you wanted to learn and you still remember the overwhelming joy you felt when they brought it to your home, you jumped into your father's arms, holding onto his neck and your father returned the hug by kissing your cheek.

It's been so long since then.

That little girl is gone for a long time, now you're a grown woman who's been through a lot.

You finish your lunch and then decide to read something on the couch. You're not sure if Joel wants you in the living room, but he's not here so why not go. And if you should hear him coming back, you will quickly sneak into the kitchen.

You scroll down his bookshelf and you see lots of books about space and dinosaurs, there's even some comics. You didn't think Joel was the comic type!

When you were twelve or maybe thirteen you liked space and the idea that other creatures other than humans could exist on other planets. As you grew up, the idea of E.T. seemed silly to you and so you dedicated yourself to something else.

Today, well why not read something that can take you back a little to your childhood? You remember how many crazy theories you came up with and how you believed in them and thought they were important!

You choose a little book with a blue cover ruined and faded, there is a moon and a little girl with a small telescope.

You smile.

Well, let's start!

In a few hours, the book is finished and placed back in the library. You adjust the cushions and eliminate the creases on the couch so Joel can't figure out that you came in there and then you go upstairs.

It's time to take a shower.

You take off your sweater, jeans, bra and then with just a towel on you go to the bathroom.

The jet of water gently caresses you, you close your eyes, throwing your head back slightly. You moan, savoring the warm water on your skin. You gently rub the soap on your shoulders, your arms, your breasts, your belly, oh it may have been a busy day, but it feels so good and slowly the efforts are fading away. On a day like this, it seems to you that the outbreak never happened. Or at least you like to delude yourself and believe that it did.

You turn off the water jet and get out of the shower wrapping yourself in the towel.

When you come out of the bathroom, you barely have time to see Joel so you don't run into him.

Oh!

You look at him with surprise, he also seems surprised and runs his gaze over you quickly and then raises it back to your face.

He clears his throat before placing his hands on his hips, "I see you've been busy!" he exclaims, you look at him questioningly "The house." he clarifies "Want me to draw you a picture?" he mocks you.

You look away from his face for a moment, then look at him “How was the patrol?” you ask him.

"Quiet. Just the way I like it." he replies looking you straight in the eyes and you get the message.

No questions.

You look away, then say, "I'm going to change, move up."

You both move in the same direction, you look up at him and swallowing, you pass him, barely bumping his arm.

You close the door behind you and remove the towel, stay naked for a couple of minutes and get dressed. You find yourself thinking that Joel is one of the strangest men you've ever met.

When Joel comes back, he doesn't find the usual dust accumulated in the corners of the entrance furniture, the air is clean and fresh. He looks around confused as if he feared he had entered the wrong door and entered another house. Then he hears the water running from upstairs and has no trouble understanding that you are in the bathroom.

What strikes him, however, is seeing his house, or what was just his house, so clean, tidy, even fragrant, the flowers in the kitchen. This is a lived-in house. It's incredible, but he likes it. He'll never tell you, but it's amazing what you did.

He swallows and thinks that if he had the courage to shoot himself, he wouldn't have you here. Who knows maybe Tommy would have left this house to you and you would have made it even more beautiful!

He has to change before you see or understand that he hasn't gone on any patrols.

When he sees you wrapped in that towel, he can hardly think of anything unpleasant to say to you. You are a tender image.

Tender? Earth to Joel! What the fuck?!

When he snaps at you, he expects you to respond in kind too, but not today. You are so sweet and welcoming.

Oh, damn!

You walk away, putting an end to his thoughts about you, he stares into space for a couple of seconds, then goes downstairs. He inserts an old Pearl Jam cassette and the notes of Alive spread through the room.

He chuckles, almost falling onto the couch. Maybe he's just tired, maybe he just needs to sleep because otherwise there's no explaining how he can think of you as a tender and sweet creature after you forcefully entered his life.

"Oh, I don't believe it!" he hears you exclaim behind him and Joel stands up as if to hide the thoughts that are running through his mind at the moment "These are Pearl Jam!" you continue smiling and shaking your head.

"D' you know 'em?" he asks as you walk over to the stereo.

"Who doesn't know them!" you exclaim while maintaining that smile, while you stare at the cassette tape playing "Oh, so many memories!" you exclaim in a bitter tone and your smile fades.

"You like 'em?" he asks without taking his eyes off you and looking at that baggy sweater on you and those pants that are definitely too big for you, your hair strangely down.

You are a delicious tender image...

"My father loved ‘em, every Sunday when we organized a picnic there was Pearl Jam, when I was little he made me climb on his shoes and we danced." a shy smile bends your lips upwards and your eyes get lost in a distant memory "Don't mind!" you exclaim, returning to reality and shaking your head "Do you want something to eat?" you ask him.

He nods, but his look is thoughtful and he doesn't stop looking at you.

"What?" you ask, looking at his face and feeling uncomfortable having that look on you, that intense look.

He shakes his head, "Uhm, no nothing." he says looking down “Anyway, yeah. I'm hungry."

"Okay." you say, starting to leave the room “Do you want anything in particular?”

"Yes, nothing burns!" he exclaims.

You lower your head tsking and walk out of the room.

Fuck, he's fucked.

He follows you with his gaze, he watches how you move on tiptoe, you are still afraid. He'd like to tell you that sooner or later that fear will pass, but he doesn't because he doesn't care about comforting you and above all tell you things that can never be.

NEXT CHAPTER ➢

[bugstung]

(Pretty much) All my headcanons and symbolisms for my EmpiresSMP designs!

With some further detailling about some stuff under read more

Season 1

Pixl: Watchers are not some big bad evil Gods, but astral spirits watching over the worlds. As they See everything, they are often linked to the Vigil (as well as people given the gift of prophecy)

The life symbol was added after his alliance with Joey

Joel: A terracotta statue given life from the Mother Tree, he's flesh and bones (because magic), but him (and all the Mezalea habitants) returned to their statue form when Joel died of grief.

He does have other clothes to work in, but you're practically never going to see him in those.

Some other Mezalea headcanons

Jimmy: Most witches come from the swamp, and he's one of them. They specialize in potions and talismans.

Hair are important to codfolks, the act of brushing or braiding them are used in certain spells, thus why most codfolks don't have short hair.

His appearance is also more wild looking than before because of his slow transformation into a God.

The Cod Alliance gifted each other jewelries to remind and protect each others.

(Pixl and Joel's jewelries are under their clothes as necklaces)

Wizards vs Witches

Coldfolk culture and more

Some more codfolk thoughts

After killing a certain amount of salmons, codfolks get a tattoo of dead salmons somewhere on their body.

Pearl: Similarly to Mythland, they see physical activities and fights as important (mostly for work but also protect themselves from ennemies).

I. don't have anything from Shrub I'm sorry I didn't watch her and I don't know her lore very well

Gem: Gem and fWhip grew up together to be wizards in the Crystal Cliffs, pressured to be perfect by their elders. Gem turned out to be naturally talented at magic, so everything rested on her shoulders.

She still keeps a lot of her strict education, but tries to make a change in the stressful wizard society.

She has a ring to represent the WRA (and another for magic channeling), and lots of scars from magic experiments.

Hair and the Geminitays

Wizards vs Witches (again, but it's important for Gem and fWhip lore)

fWhip: As said in the posted linked above, fWhip failed the wizard exams (he doesn't have any magical powers) and ran away in the newly founded Grimlands. His ingenuousness made him Count of the Grimlands. The Grimlands do not do magic. They mix science, engineering and alchemy instead. Symbols similar to sigils (or those of alchemy) are often seen engraved in their creations.

The deepslate corruption gave him wings, but they were not strong enough to fly so he has prosthetics to help him fly

He's actually quite clumsy, and ended up with lots of scars, and a missing hand:

Joey: (clearer design of his crown, made to ressemble the pharmacy snake thingie)

He bleaches his own hair.

He bleeds gold, and his scars are golden as well from his over use of Totems of Undying

Him being an avian allowed him a easy access to the Lost Empire. He wears the Ocelot print to look a bit more like its habitants.

Also his spit has healing properties.

Sausage: Mythland and Magic

Blood sheeps are sacred, but also feared, thus the fur to protect the citizens a bit from them.

Sausage lost his eyes when sparring with fWhip when younger. fWhip made him the eye prosthesis, and Gem enchanted it. May or may not have become corrupted in the whole Xornoth thing so they did another one for him.

Scott: I surprisingly do not have much for him. His cape can turn into wings. He stopped being able to do that when his ice powers showed up because they froze.

Very strict haircut, elves must be tidy and proper all the time.

Lizzie: She adapted rather well to her transformation, mostly changed her clothes for better swimming. Joel jokingly made her a bracelet to replace her now too small ring "in case she grows again", but she wears it seriously.

S2 Joel has very similar clothes to her because of faint memories.

Katherine: Yeah I fucked and forgot to color her inking, she was supposed to look like this (I noticed too late and never bothered to correct it)

Katherine has this whole "I want to be friends with everyone" that I associate with lambs, thus her ears and hooves. She's a fae with some weird morals.

SEASON 2

I have wayyy less for season 2, especially for the empires themselves.

fWhip: Goblins are direct descendants from the Grimlands (and a few from Crystall Cliffs), that hid underground after the explosion. They kept digging and exploring the caves until they found a place to settle. The green skin, cat like paws and eyes are from them adapting to living in caves.

Food is very important to them, they eat several times a day, and often have banquets. They also kept the Grimlands technique of blacksmithing, but adapted it for gold.

Jimmy: Yeehaw he's a cowboy. Not much to say ngl, I do headcanon him as a werewolf depending on the day.

Tumble Town heard cows, but also creepers (where do you think they get that gunpowder from!!) (headcanon from @doodleshrimpsad). Also, cats are sacred there

Pixl: He's got some magical and futuristic technology making him able to see builds and events from the past.

Got some knees problems, thus the cane. It has sigils on it that he wrote himself based of books from old times (I'm thinking they're sigils from the Cod Empire and the Grimlands)

I desperatly need to think about more about Pixandria, and how tf David (or at least a newer version of it) arrived at the Ancient City.

Joel: Yeah he got top surgery and got a cool tattoo of laurels, but he also bleeds gold and his scars are golden. God don't bow to human rules anyway.

The braid come from a habit he can't doesn't remember getting. it feels important.

Lower Stratos got a lot of rituals, prayers and offering but I haven't figured those out exactly. Just know that I associate s2 Joel with Dionysus a lot so expect similar stuff /sweats/

False: I have literally no idea what's going in her empire, and even less in her lore. The hp name put me off so. Idk. Cool clocks. She got a prosthetic leg.

Sausage: I haven't gotten to his lore part of his videos so idk his backstory. But he does have a cape that ressemble parrot wings because jungle, animals yadda yadda

Scott: He was actually due a redesign that I haven't gotten to yet so.

The outfit I've drawn him in that lineup is an everyday look, while the costume is for empires meeting or exploring.

Oli: Silly bard, his hat has faling strings that reminded me of floppy bunny ears and I thought it was cute. He bleaches his hair.

Got a lot of magic in his songs, people often stops by at his Kingdom just to hear sing and dance. They're a bit hypnotic and people seem to feel better afterwards.

Katherine: That's her monster hunter clothes. She still wants to keep it cute so pink skirt it is. That would be her normal clothes (it's like reverse magical girl, her poofy dress is her everyday dress)

Shelby: I do not have much for her (again), but I can link my Wizard vs Witches post again because it has my headcanons of why witches have academies now.

After all the complicated spells, she likes to do simple fashion magic. Tying a knot or a bow is to seal a spell, so she uses them a lot to do some simple protection spells on her clothes.

Pirate Joe: He's wearing lots of stolen jewelries, some may be enchanted, some may be cursed. Who knows? Not him.

The gold earring come from that belief among pirates that having a golden earrings gives you a better eyesight ( it's from a acupuncture point, and for some, wearing gold in the proper pierced place would help your eyesight).

Katherine did that braid in his hair, and Joe (like cod folks and crystal cliffs habitants), believes that braiding someone's hair means they will fall in love with you.

Gem: I'll have to link back that link about Hair and Geminitays as it got everything I got for her. She sometimes fight with Katherine about hair and its importance. My start of headcanons kinda got crushed because she's linked to hc Gem so idk what to do with her or her kingdom anymore.

Lizzie: She's got her mask to hide her cat face, but her bow is actually a charm hiding her other cat features. The mask is just to be sure.

[asirensrage]

Saudade - Chapter 6

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: Thank you so much for the comments on the last chapter. I'm so glad you've enjoyed it. I hope you like this one as well. This includes one of my friend's favourite scenes

Please be advised it does follow canon in this next part and that does include canon character death…in a junkyard…where our girl meets some of our favourite siblings ;)

I hope you enjoy it. Your comments mean the world to me. Thank you all.

also on ao3

fic masterlist - prev chapter

Takemichi tries to keep Takara out of the fight. The one that he’s already warned her changes their future and results in Hina’s death. She promises to stay away so that he doesn’t have to worry about her and breaks it the moment he leaves. She’s not about to let her brother do something stupid. Not when she can help. 

The junkyard where the fight is organized to happen is easy to find. It takes Takara a little bit to get past some of the people dressed up and getting ready to celebrate the day. Part of her regrets not being involved, being excited to scare others and gorge herself on candy…but she has enough weird things happening in her life. She doesn’t need to search for more. 

She pauses at one of the entrances, checking around quickly for the best place to watch this go down. Most of the spots are already taken by various boys wearing signs and colours she doesn’t recognize. The ground is also not solid which means she’s going to have a hell of a time walking over on her wheels. She hears a bunch of voices coming closer from behind and she makes a split decision, heading for a section that’s out of the way but seems manageable to sit at. There’s also not as many men in the area as others but she makes the choice to ask instead of barging in on their area they’ve claimed.

“Hey, you guys mind if I sit with you?” 

They look over at her in surprise. She doesn’t know if it was because she hobbled over in her skates or the fact that she asked. 

“What are you doing here?” the blond asks. 

“I came to see if my brother’s going to get his ass kicked again. Someone’s gotta look out for the punk.”

That gets their attention. “Your brother?” the one with the braids asks.

“Yeah, he’s in the Tokyo Manji gang.”

“You’re fucking brave, aren’t you? You know there’s a reason there are no girls here, right?” the blond asks again. 

“Family over gender,” she says, waving it off. “I’ll take off if I need to.” 

The two look at each other before the one with the braids nods. “Alright, you can sit. We’ll make sure no one touches you.”

She grins sharply before hopping up on one of the scrap heaps with her hands. “Thanks.” They don’t say anything else, eyes on the groups that are coming in to actually fight. Takara looks, trying to find her brother in a sea of black and bleached hair. It’s harder than she thought it would be. Draken however is easy, both by being tall and in the front. As is the asshole who stole a kiss from her. Her lip curls, unimpressed at the sight of him. 

They don’t seem to notice her, at least not at first as their attention is focused on the other gang…until Takemichi yells her name. 

“Takara!” 

She curses him under her breath as multiple eyes look toward her. “Idiot,” she mutters. The members of Toman frown at her presence, except for Mikey who nods toward her. She’s not worried about them though. 

“Come to see me win, princess?” Hanma shouts at her. He’s grinning widely, looking completely unconcerned about the fact he’s about to be in the middle of a major gang fight. 

“Only to see you fucking bleed!” she snarls back. He just laughs, as though he expected that response. She turns her attention to Draken who’s watching it all carefully. “Hey! Draken! That’s the asshole I had to teach consent to!” 

Draken’s expression darkens just like she expected it to. She remembers the way he reacted to her telling them about it. Hopefully, he’ll take care of that problem. 

🐈‍⬛

She doesn't really know what's going on if she's honest. There's a lot happening and she loses sight of Takemichi multiple times as the gangs swarm together. It's only easy to see Mikey once he’s climbed up on the junk pile, even as he looks like he's defeated. 

She can sort of make out what the one boy is yelling at Mikey, which makes it seem like there was a bunch of drama behind the scenes that led to this build-up. It wasn’t surprising based on what she remembers her brother and Baji telling her, but it reaffirmed that it was probably one of those things where it all could have been avoided if the boys just had a proper conversation. 

She keeps her mouth shut, watching Kisaki make a call to arms to help Mikey. She could see how it looked natural, but based on everything she knows, it feels like a set up. It is too easy, especially with how he slipped through the sea of bodies to make it there. Then…Baji appears, aiming straight for him.

Takara remembers the way Baji told her he had a plan, that it would work but not that it was good and when she sees the one who attacked Mikey sneak up on him, blade glinting in the light as he stabs him, she knows Baji failed. She also knows this has officially gone too far. 

She digs out her cell phone, watching Baji force himself to stand, acting like he’s fine. She’s seen enough boys try to hide injuries so they could keep playing over the years, her brother included, to know he’s lying, even at this distance. 

“Hey,” she calls out to the two older boys who let her sit with them. “You guys might want to run. I’m calling an ambulance.” They offered to protect her while she was here. The least she could do was give them a fair warning. 

“Fight’s not over,” the blond with the glasses points out. 

“Yes, it is. Someone brought a knife to a fistfight. That means the rules changed and I’m stepping in before this goes off the rails. No one needs to die for some stupid shit.” She dials the number for emergency while the boys she’s with don’t move. They might rat her out for this, but she’ll take the chance. As soon as someone picks up, she starts talking fast, pitching her voice up higher so it’s less recognizable. “There’s a fight!” She gives off the location before continuing, trying to sound more panicked than she feels. “Someone’s been stabbed! I think they’re really hurt! Hurry!” She hangs up as soon as they confirm that someone is on the way. 

The one with the braids shakes his head, seemingly amused. “Get ready to move.”

Glasses glares towards her but Takara simply shrugs back, turning to see Mikey pummeling the one who stabbed Baji. She knows she should be concerned, but that seemed like a logical consequence for trying to murder a friend. Besides, the cops are on their way…even if she should have maybe requested two ambulances…

She watches as Baji calls for Mikey to stop as he stands…and then decides to be dramatic and stab himself. Again. 

Takara doesn’t think. She jumps off of the junk that she’s sitting on and hobbles her way over as she hears the boys panic, crying at Baji for what he’s done. No one’s putting pressure on the wound. Honestly, you’d think they were helpless.

She doesn’t listen as people try to stop her, managing to slip out of their grips before she can reach Baji and those who surround him. She can suddenly hear sirens and the panic around her increases. She ignores it, ignores the way Mikey stares at her as she pulls off her shirt and uses it to press against Baji’s stomach wound as she drops to her knees next to him. 

“Fucking idiot,” she mutters. Baji just grins at her. 

“Worked,” he says back before talking to her brother who moves in next to her, trying to cover her up from the gazes of the boys and men around them. She’s in a sports bra. Even if it’s not something anyone else here is used to, she’s fine. 

The one who stabbed Baji is stock still, staying even as Takara has to threaten her brother to leave. She’s not sure who pulls who away as Takemichi and Chifuyu leave, but she throws his jacket to Takashi so there’s no trace him. She doesn’t move, keeping her hands pressed against Baji and telling him that he’s not allowed to die. He grins at her again before passing out and she realizes that she hasn’t stopped the blood from the wound on his back. 

“Give me your shirt,” she demands, not even looking up at the attempted murderer. 

“What?” he asks, still seemingly in shock. She doesn’t know why. What did he think would happen? 

“Your shirt! Now!” 

He quickly strips it off, coming to kneel across from her on the other side of Baji. She grabs it and uses it to try to staunch the blood flow from the wound he created. 

“Is he..?”

“Shut up!” she snaps. She’s trying to save a friend and the cops are coming and she has to figure out what the story she’s going to tell is. Takara can only try because everyone else is fucking useless including the boy who stabbed her friend in the first place. Just because he’s passed out doesn’t mean he’s dead. There’s still time. 

It feels like forever before the ambulance finally arrives, paramedics praising her as they take over. Baji is taken into the ambulance and Takara stands in the junkyard alone, hands covered in blood and surrounded by police as they arrest the boy who stabbed him. 

🐈‍⬛

She’s covered with a blanket to give her some sense of modesty. She’s not sure if it’s for her or them. The police can’t seem to decide whether or not to praise her or tell her off for getting involved. Her story was that she was rollerblading and came across the two of them fighting. She saw Baji get stabbed and it devolved from there. She called emergency services and tried to help. That’s how they found them. 

She gets charged for being a public nuisance because of her rollerblading, because one of the cops recognized her, but it only comes with a small fine and a warning. She’s forced into slippers and doesn’t get to leave though until she’s picked up by an adult because she’s technically still a minor. 

“What about my friend?” she asks once they finally stop repeating their questions. “Is he okay?” 

There’s a moment of silence, the officers looking between each other, that tells her everything she needs to know. That explained why they suddenly came in earlier, their questions more demanding than before.

“Oh.” 

She had tried. Her hands were still stained with his blood. She could see it in the cracks of her skin and under her nails. She had tried. 

“Your friend died in the hospital,” one officer says softly. “They tried but…there–there was too much blood loss and his internal organs were shredded.”

“Fucking idiot,” She mutters again. She doesn’t say anything else. 

Takara feels as though she’s been submerged in water as the world moves around her. She can hear her father lecturing her for getting involved but she can’t really make out the words. It’s doesn’t matter. He’s not really hers. He finally falls silent, leaving her to her own thoughts on the ride home. 

She walks into the house, still wrapped up in a scratchy blanket, wearing thin slippers that threaten to fall off of her feet as her father tucks her blades away, and Takemichi comes running from the other room. He skids to a stop, looking at her. 

“Takara! What happened?”

“Baji’s dead,” she tells him, the simple fact it now is. She hears him protest, demand more information, but she ignores him, moving on autopilot to the bathroom. There is blood on her clothes and her skin. She strips, throwing the clothes in the garbage before stepping into the shower. She turns the water on as hot as she can stand it. 

Baji is dead. 

They weren’t close, but she liked him. He felt familiar, he made her laugh, and now he was dead because the boys in this world were fucking idiots. 

It was a sharp reminder of what awaited them, that the threat that continued to linger over Takemichi’s head waiting to fall in the future was real. 

She scrubbed hard at her skin. That was never going to happen to her brother. Just because the boys of this world were idiots, didn’t mean she had to fall into that same trap. Takemichi was going to be fine.  She’d make sure of it.  

🐈‍⬛

Takara has never been to a funeral like Baji’s.

Takemichi has yet to leave, to go back to his proper place in the future, and he leads her through it, whispering guidance. None of his advice helps when she finds her arms full with a crying older woman who is thanking her for trying to save her son. 

“Don’t thank me. It wasn’t enough,” Takara says softly. 

“It was,” the woman insists. 

She’s never dealt with this before but she hugs the woman back, hearing a voice in her head telling her that everyone deserves comfort, and she offers her apologies and assistance should the woman need it. 

The woman pulls back and cups her cheek gently, smiling softly at her as tears fall. “You’re a good girl. Your parents must be proud.” 

They barely act like she exists, but Takara nods and Baji’s mother is led away by another relative, back to her position for the wake. 

She sits with her brother. Their parents were too busy to attend a funeral for a boy they didn’t know, but they handed them money to contribute and left them to their own devices. They’re surrounded by friends, all of them here to offer their respects.

Chifuyu and Emma are crying, while Draken looks solemn. Mikey looks like he’s still in shock, like he did in the hospital when his men were around him and he was determined to be strong. It looks exhausting. 

Takemichi is crying. Of course, he is. She pulls out the tissues she brought in her bag because she knew he would and hands them over to him. Takara stares at Baji’s picture on the altar, listening to the service and the sounds of mourning but she doesn’t really hear it. All she knows is that it won’t be her, she won’t be sitting in a wake mourning again. She’s lost too much already. She won’t lose another brother. Not if she can help it.

tag list: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

@themaradwrites @kingsmakers @thatmagickjuju @awkwardchick87

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies

saudade tag: @thisbicc @scythegal

network tag: @pixelcafe-network

[miraculous-magicalconnections]

Chloé Bourgeois, Zoé Lee, and Sabrina Raincomprix Redesign

For Chloé's redesign, I really wanted to heavily play into the idea that she wants nothing more than to impress her mother and I took it and ran with it

For her main outfit, I wanted to make her appear like a business woman, so I gave her a white dress with short sleeves and a small window on the front (there's shorts sewn into the skirt)

Her hair is up in a bun for two reasons: 1. it further helps bring together the "business woman" look she wants herself to have and 2. She may or may not have a massive crush on Marinette and copied her

She's one of the few characters who wears makeup, being the golden eyeshadow and eyeliner she wears

Her camouflaged Miraculous was pretty easy to redesign since I wanted it to be something she could wear often without it being noticeable

She's a closeted lesbian because she wants to be perfect, so she refuses to express these "bad" thoughts she has

She's French and American, I'm not entirely sure what ethnicity Audrey is but I like the idea of her being American

For Zoé's outfit, I wanted to show just how much control Audrey had despite being absent

Zoé wears a crop top to "show off" because that's what Audrey expects of her, she wears heels because that's what Audrey wants her to do, but Zoé doesn't wear an outfit that makes her mother proud, she wears an outfit that specifically uses what Audrey asks of her and makes it as horrible as possible (Bad color combo, heels with shorts, a cropped hoodie (that Audrey despises) and so on)

I doubt this outfit will be very prominent in the story as she'll get a new one not too long after her introduction but I wanted to show off what she typically wore prior to moving to Paris

While unconfirmed in canon, she's a lesbian in my rewrite and very proud about it

And she's American and Italian for no reason other than because I feel Audrey wouldn't date (let alone have a child with) anyone who wasn't at least somewhat famous

For Sabrina's redesigns, I wanted to heavily play into her acting as Chloé's servant, so she wears a yellow outfit as a way to show Chloé's power over her

I made her hair redder and her eyes more turquoise because I wanted her to stand out a bit more since so many characters have blue eyes and I wanted to make her being a redhead a bit more a part of her character

Her hair is in two braids because I both really like the style and to show how she's keeping herself separate from everything and when she eventually leaves Chloé, she'll let it down

She's a lesbian and is absolutely infatuated with Chloé which is partially why she puts up with Chloé as much as she does

While unintentional, her outfit, hair, and glasses make her look like Marcy from Scooby-Doo Mystery Inc. and I honestly love that, especially since the two are perfect parallels to each other