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airbendertendou · 1 year

Text

lonely heart ♡ danny johnson

soulmate au where the first time you have skin to skin contact, your body glows & is stamped w their handprint - it looks like a birthmark.

cw ; typical dbd warnings [blood n gore] ; reader offers ghostie a nude pic in exchange for freedom ; might b ooc but idc <3 ; how danny looks is up to you!

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

——♡——

The heat of the campfire brushes against your face, warming your skin just enough to forget the biting wind. Nancy is beside you, falling asleep where she sits, nodding her head forward before she snaps out of it. Across the fire, Feng is chatting idly with Dwight and Steve, Leon chiming in when he felt like it.

The bench-like-log you’re sitting on shifts as Nea takes a seat, letting out a huff as she settles. “It’s been quiet recently,” she says, “too quiet if you ask me.”

“I’m a little wary,” you agree. Your eyes scope the woods surrounding the survivors as if someone is going to pop out any second. They wouldn’t, though — the killers kept away from the light of the fire and never wandered any closer than they were allowed. “I wonder if something’s happened.”

Nea rolls her eyes, “we wouldn’t be so lucky.”

You grin at her pessimism, shoving her lightly with your left shoulder. Nea snickers as Nancy jumps awake once more, jolting in her sleep before yawning. A faded, gray fog settles over the camp and with it, five more survivors make their way around the campfire. You know what that means — a new trial is bound to start at any second.

Readying yourself, your muscles tense and your heart rate picks up, preparing to sprint when the time comes. A darkened, indigo-tinted fog wraps around you — it’s cold and loud as it grasps you from the campfire. You blink and then you’re in Haddonfield.

Taking in a deep breath, you shuffle quickly to the nearest generator. Feng smiles as she passes by you stealthily, clicking her flashlight at you a few times. The area is terrifyingly quiet — it must mean your killer this round is a watcher. You puff up your cheeks as you mis-wire something, moving away from the generator that’s popped.

A scream echoes in the distance — it sounds too close, so you take off.

Momentarily, you hide in a dusty bedroom. You peek from the walls, not spotting anyone other than the back of Leon’s bulletproof vest. Another look from the room — another scream hits the air.

Finding another generator was easy enough, but trying to stay hidden was a little more difficult. Your fingers curl and tug on wires, the smell of oil and burning wires hitting you the more you twiddle with them. Claudette hovers beside you, checking to see if you need any healing. Deeming you healthy, she flops to the other side of the generator.

“It’s Ghostface,” she breathes. Looking over her shoulder warily, she gulps as she looks back to you. “Already got Feng and Dwight. Only one gen’s done ; I’ve been hooked.”

You pause your wiring, confusion building up in you. “I haven’t even seen him yet.”

Claudette pauses too, looking over you with a furrowed eyebrow. “If we don’t make it, then win for us. Yeah?”

The generator pops with completion, lighting up for a second and exposing your location. You take off in the opposite direction Claudette did, hopping through a window and out through the backdoor. A flash of black catches your eye — your killer has finally shown himself.

You decide to buy everyone else some time. Hopefully, with a little distraction, a few more generator’s could be fixed.

Sneaking behind him, you let out a small “psst!” and wait for his attention to fall on you. He whips around, white mask greeting you. Walking towards a closet, you point to it a few times. Ghostface looks from the closet, to you, and back again. You wiggle your hand, insisting, “someone’s in there!”

Curiously, the closet door creaks open and Ghostface sees it’s empty. He turns to face you slowly and you’re already holding back giggles. A chase is pursued — something you struggle to do with all of your laughter. He swings his knife haphazardly, not really aiming at you, but not allowing you to get away with your joke either.

“Heheh—ah!” After a successful swing, a cut slashes across your arm. Blood seeps from it as you fall to the ground, laughter still spilling from your lips as you roll around. Ghostface shakes his head down at you — as if he’s disappointed in your joke — before he saunters off to find his next victim. You frown as your laughter comes to a stop, “well, now what?”

Another generator pops and you think this is it. We’re so close to going home — well, what you call home now. Letting out a sigh, you sit up and wrap your new cut with a bandage. You hear a squeal, then a scream. Seems our Ghostie is agitated now ; ready to get the trial over with.

Chills flow up your spine, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead as the feeling of being watched overpowers you. That can’t be good. You stiffen, looking through the corner of your eyes without turning your head. Hopefully, you’ll see him with your peripheral vision if he’s near. Otherwise— you didn’t want to think of the other option.

Sneakily, you tip-toe into a nearby house, hoping to wait out the feeling. But, you know you won’t. One thing about Ghostface is once his eyes are set on you, you’re not escaping. A noise catches your attention in the silence — the sound of a latch unlocking.

The hatch — you must be the only one left.

Your breath catches in your throat as you creep along the street, keeping an eye out for the hatch. You see it — it’s right in your sights and your heart rate picks up. Shaky breaths escape your parted lips as you glance around the empty street. Coast is clear — time to make a run for it.

Until a white mask phases in out of nowhere, directly on the other side of the hatch.

“Oh, come on,” you whine. Ghostface tilts his head at you, waving his knife teasingly. Your arm stings with the shine of it, bandage now being colored a deep red. “I’m so close to ending this!” He continues to stare your way silently. “Don’t you think this is a little unfair?”

“That’s the game, doll.” You’ve never heard him speak before now. A static-y, modulated voice isn’t what you expect to hear. He creeps closer, no longer directly across from you. “That’s what makes this fun.”

You purse your lips, fingers knotting together at the edge of your edge. “Okay, how about this? You let me take hatch, and I’ll let you take a shirtless picture of me. My face isn’t allowed to be in it, though!”

Ghostface bounced where he stood, an excited giggle echoing in his mask as he immediately agreed. Puffing up your cheeks, you let out a breath before nodding to yourself in encouragement. A polaroid camera has replaced the blood-soaked knife in his hand — even with the weapon gone from sight, dread flushes through you.

“Okay,” you say to yourself, “this is no big deal.”

Without another thought, your fingers clench the end of your shirt and raise it to cover your face. Your skin prickles with the wind, goosebumps raising at the new sensation. With bated breath, you wait to hear the shutter go off — a click, another giggle, the hatch closing ; anything. All that’s there is silence.

And then a leather glove is wrapped around your wrist.

Jumping at the sudden touch, your shirt falls back into place as you take a step back. Only a sliver of skin is free from the glove — just enough for his skin to brush against yours.

A golden sheen takes over you, settling where your bodies meet. In a panic induced state, you’re pushed to the ground as Ghostface hovers over top of you. Shaky, shallow breaths hit his mask as his camera is settled to the right of your head. Slowly, he peels a glove off and reaches for you.

Where his now bare hand meets, a light follows. Right on your wrist, the shape of his fingers is imprinted forever, as if it were a birthmark you were born with. It was supposed to be a myth — a tale shared between hopeless romantic’s. Soulmates weren’t supposed to actually exist.

Except, yours apparently did. In a realm you couldn’t escape ; killing you and your fellow survivors on a continuous loop. You were stuck there — stuck with a murderer as your soulmate until forevermore.

Ruffled hair is exposed to the wind as Ghostface unmasks himself, his pupils practically hearts as he stares down at you. His eyes search your face, never settling on one particular spot as he drinks you in entirely. You feel as he lets out a breath ; feel his shoulders sag with some kind of relief as he grabs one of your hands. He leads it to his face and lets out another sigh when his skin glows, the shape of your hand left on the left side of his face.

“Mine,” his voice is soft. You can’t stop looking at him — can’t stop staring at your hand that’s been imprinted onto his cheek. “You’re all mine. Made just for me.”

You can’t tell if the feeling swelling inside of you is dread or excitement. But, you let him pull you closer anyways ; allow him to hug you as he pleases. This could come in handy, after all. Maybe.

——♡—— lets ignore that valentines day is over already teehee <3 i hope my version of ghostie is okay, idk how well i write him </3 airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

#danny johnson x reader #danny johnson imagines #jed olsen x reader #jed olsen imagines #danny johnson ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #ghostface imagine #dbd imagine #dbd x reader #dbd ghostface #dead by daylight imagines #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine #dead by daylight ghostface #💝 : soulmate au’s

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darkdevasofdestruction · 2 years

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helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I’m so happy that you liked those! I hope you’ll like this one as well! <3

As soon as Pyramid Head saw you for the first time, when you were sent in a trial with him, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared at you.

Your soul was so bright and beautiful that he couldn’t help but want to approach you and protect you for the rest of your life.

Of course, with his scary appearance and that big-ass sword of his, you got frightened out of your mind and ran the hell away out of there.

Since then, Pyramid Head started chasing you during every trial - But you soon realised that he never harmed you, even if he reached you.

He always let you go, if the gates were opened, or would guide you to the hatch and would watch you escape to safety.

This made you realise that he, for some reason, didn’t want to harm you, so out of the trial, you went to confront him.

So you went to the Killer Camp and as soon as he noticed you, he got up from the log and made his way towards you, very menacingly - But that was to intimidate the other killers and keep them away from you.

You wanted to talk to him, but when he wouldn’t answer, you realised there was no way he could communicate properly, so you were at a great loss.

That is, until he signed for you to stay there while he left for a short period of time - And once he returned, he unexpectedly... Put a small, white flower in your hair.

You were absolutely flabbergast and had no idea how to react, but once he turned around and walked towards the camp, you called out a loud ‘THANK YOU’ to him.

He stopped for a second, then he continued to walk.

Since then, you noticed massive differences during your trials.

None of the killers even dared approach you, let alone try to hook or mori you.

Hell, some of them were even afraid to look at you - You saw them run away as soon as they got in your proximity, even if you were working on a gen!

Mostly, the human Killers were affected by this, and they were terrified out of your mind of you, yet you had no idea why!

After a few trials where you were the only one that got out of there alive, thanks to the killer’s mercy of showing you the hatch, you decided to go see Pyramid Head at his Camp and see if he had anything to do with this.

When you got there and saw the big man get up, and some of the smaller killers started shuddering and inching away from him - It was definitely a sight to behold.

Seeing the Pyramid killer in front of you, towering over you, you realised that you had no idea how you were going to ask him about this issue, so you started chuckling nervously - Until the man put his hand on your shoulder and had you follow him deep into the forest.

You’ve never been deep into the forest, especially not alone, but for some reason, you felt rather... Safe with him by your side.

You reacher a clearing that had little fog around but was surrounded by a few wild flowers - It was a beautiful place to be at, all things considered.

It made you smile.

As you sat down on the grass, he signed for you to wait for him, and when he returned, he was holding something in his arms, and knelt in front of you.

He was holding a white bunny that he put in your lap for you to pet and take care of.

You were so speechless that you couldn’t help but look up at the Killer in awe - And you smiled sweetly, holding the bunny dearly in your embrace.

“Thank you”

#dbd #dead by daylight #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #dbd headcanons #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine #dead by daylight headcanons #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head imagine #pyramid head headcanons

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florestmoon · 2 years

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This might be random but could I request some Ghostface fluff? Like after a lot of tiring trials Ghostie just need some TLC from his confused favorite survivor (aka forced cuddling that turns soft?) Sorry I've been having a rough week and just need some TLC myself 😔 thank you so much if you decide to write this

I’m so sorry for doing this so late!I really hope you are feeling better and are having a much better week/month ! Hopefully this gives a bit of comfort to you <3333 much love. (:

Danny Johnson (Ghostface) x Reader

To say that trials have been rough for Danny, would be an understatement. It felt as though the entity had began to give survivors better tools or brighter flashlights that was made to make him feel like he was the victim in these trials.

He felt humiliated. Danny always prided in being one of the better killers in the realm. His stealth and gruesome methods of killing the survivors had branded him with a higher status. The entity had rewarded him many times, first with his camera then a few other awesome outfits that replicated his original Ghostface persona. He was it’s Golden boy.

So why the fuck was he beginning to lack? He never had this problem before. It was although the survivors were taken him less seriously. No longer fleeing whenever they saw him lurking around. It was irking him.

His ego was taking a big hit. The knife felt heavy in his pocket. No longer giving him the pleasure that he so desperately needed. His gloved hands were clenching and unclenching as he sat on the roof that was over a porch of the many homes that made up Haddonfield. His legs dangling over the edge as he stared off into the distance. Eyes set on the trees, roaming along the open spaces between each tree. Waiting.

After a few minutes of him running his hand through his hair and trying to rub the exhaustion off his face. He debated grabbing his mask and just leaving. But you finally appeared between the tree lines.

Your hesistant steps giving Danny some pleasure that he still had an unnerving presence. Even for someone like you, who had made their way into being one his favorites.

Well, his only favorite. Not that you needed to know.

He had made habit to tease you in and out of trials. Lurking in the woods whenever you would gain the courage, or stupidity, to break off from your group and venture alone. At first he thought he just wanted to kill you, having you to his own with no pressure of your teammates saving you in the way. But as time went on, the want to kill was there but it never occurred more than a fleeing thought. Stuck in the back of his mind.

He begin to enjoy your company. The way you would tense up when he got too close, or your glare when he said something that he knew would get under his skin.

He watched you walk in the middle of the street, eyes searching around the intimation of a neighborhood. Danny patiently waited for you to get closer until you allowed your eyes to roam up, catching his relaxed figure.

You stared at him before pushing yourself forward, disappearing under him onto the porch. About 20 seconds pass when he hears the window behind him sliding open. The thudding of your footsteps against the wooden roof following you as you came beside him.

You plopped down beside him, keeping a safe distance between the both of you and letting out a deep sigh.

“Glad you came to join me. Did you miss me?” He asks teasingly, watching your side profile. “And I thought I was the stalker.”

You roll your eyes at this. “Sure. It's not like you threatened me to meet you here. What was it that you said? That you’ll cut my tongue off in the next trial.”

You looked at him from the corner of your eye before leaning forward and placing your elbows on your thighs as you looked below you.

“You make it seem like you hate being around me.” Danny sighs sadly, leaning back against one of his hands as he watched you. “That’s a bit rude. Kids these days have no manners.”

“Oh shut up.” You laugh as you finally turn towards him. “Please don’t tell me you’re that old.”

“A lady never tells her age.” He smirks at your deadpan look, tilting his head as you begin to search his face. It was still a new development for him to be maskless around you. But a part of him felt..good about it. It’s been so long since someone really looked at him. With the way your eyes gazed over him, he wished he would have done it sooner.

Look at him becoming soft. Had the trials really messed with his head that bad? He tore his gaze away once you quirked an eyebrow.

“Bad trials?” You ask simply, gazing down at the forgotten mask beside him. Danny let out a scoff as he pulled a leg up from the edge, pressing a knee close to his chest.

“Me? A bad trial? Who do you think I am.” He snaps. The reminder of his errors had him frowning, remembering the anger and disappointment from before.

“Yeah come on. I saw the way Nea had you running around like a complete idiot.” You grin at the way his eye twitched. “I'm surprised you didn't get a concussion from all those pallet dropped on your head.”

“Shut your mouth.” He growls, the dangerous glint back in his eyes as he stared back at you. Your smile faltering at the familiarly of the first time you were face to face with him. You almost forgot that you were in the presence of a monster. “maybe I should make of my promise of cutting your tongue off.”

You push yourself up from your seat, keeping your expression from showing the fear that sparked from his threat. “Maybe you should. I don’t know why you even forced me out here if-”

Danny’s hand shot out, grabbing a hold onto your wrist. The tight grip pausing you from moving any further, your fingers clenching into a fist as you waited. He sighed, trying to push down his frustration as he pulled for you to sit down. “Okay. Just..wait.”

You stay silent as he seems to struggle with himself before you watch him lay back against the wooden panels of the roof. Before you can question what he was doing, his grip tightened as he pulled you back with him. Pulling a small “oof” as he position for you to face away from. Arms wrapping around your waist.

“Danny?” You choked out as your mind spun in confusion at the position. “What is happening.”

“Shut up for once.” He hisses as you feel, what you could guess is his forehead, press against your back. His chest was flushed against you, legs tangling between yours as he holds you close to him. You swallow around the protest that you were ready to shoot at him.

Fingers rubbed along your skin. The sensation on your sides sending sparks up your spine. Your body releasing the tension as you relaxed against his hold. You tried to ignore the panic that had your chest beating fast and focused on Danny’s breathing against you.

It wasn’t the most comfortable position, with the wood being your only cushion. You had half the mind to wish he had chosen a bed to force this on you, but dismissed it quickly because that would definitely lead into more problems.

So you stayed in that position for a few minutes. Allowing Danny to hold you, both your hearts slowing down to a normal pace as the forever lasting night surrounded you both. You grew the courage to place your hands on top of his, slighting rubbing the knuckles. Danny hummed at that.

Your face flushed at the sound before you pushed yourself away, ignoring the protest he gave, and turned your body around to face him. His eyes were half opened as though he had begin to fall asleep. Strands of dark hair fanning over his dark eyes, that were watching you carefully.

You break the silence.

“Who knew The Ghostface was a huge cuddler?” You awkwardly smile. A beat passes before Danny replies with a playful scowl.

“I should really cut off that tongue of yours.” You giggle before sticking your tongue out, reeling your head back when gloved fingers playfully pretend to grab for it. Danny matches your lopsided grin with his own smile.

You bite your lip as you begin to think, reading his expression. He then remembers this was new terrority.

Danny’s about to say something, already pushing himself to a sitting position but you scoot closer. Placing your hand on his chest and pushing him down. Surprised eyes watch as you lean your head on his chest. Your left arm wrapping around his waist.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. The feeling of you, willingly, pressing against him and playing with the straps of his outfit, had his body feel as though it engulf in flames. He wasn’t blushing. No that would never happen.

Carefully, he places an arm around you, while the other is placed beneath his head. His hand falls on your waist, something he doesn’t think he could ever get tired of holding.

Even if he knew the moment was soon to be cut short by the entity’s greedy claws, he couldn’t help but allow himself to melt into the embrace. The moon that never disappeared watching over as you both enjoy the limited comfort that was rare in the realm.

#dbd #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #dbd x you #dbd imagines #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson #danny jed olsen johnson #danny johnson x you #jed olsen x reader #jed olsen #ghostface #ghostface x reader #the ghostface #requests #soft Danny ?? :o

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fandom-go-round · 4 months

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

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

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

The Pig:

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

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

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

The Huntress:

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

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

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

The Artist:

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

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

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

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 year

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hello!! i was wondering if i could request a thing where it's either evan macmillan, jason vorhees or bubba sawyer and they bottom for the first time? thanks :) (reader is just around average height, is not all that strong and is more caring to them)

Evan Macmillan, Jason Voorhees, and Bubba Sawyer

Headcanons

Evan Macmillan

- Evan would be the most cautious about bottoming for the first time. I think part of his brain thinks its not something he should do, like its something bad, but he sees how much you enjoy it, so he wants to give it a try.

- It would take a long time to have him prepped, as he keeps tensing up and you have to comfort and kiss him. You also reassure him he really doesn’t have to do this if he doesn’t want too. He would say he does want to, he’s just scared.

- As you can imagine the first time with Evan is very slow and careful, especially since he’s bigger than you in height and width and he’s much stronger than you.

- Evan gives a violent jolt the first time you touch his prostate, and he almost forgets how to breathe, so of course you make sure to hit it from then on out to hear him whimper and cry.

- At the end of the night, Evan will ride you at least once after he’s grown more comfortable and surer of himself. He has very powerful thighs so you can assume you’ll be ridden into exhaustion.

- The two of you will a sweaty cuddly mess when the night is over, and he will end up quietly admitting he really likes it and would want to do it again.

Jason Voorhees

- Jason would be kinda scared of the idea of bottoming, but he’s always been very careful with you when the two of you are together, so he is willing to give it a try, as long as you are careful.

- Jason learns he really likes when you finger him or eat him out, it has him humping his sheets and whimpering. Since he doesn’t make much noise in general I don’t think Jason moans a lot, so choked off groans and whimpers is the best you’ll get.

- Please be careful with him, slowly work him open and praise him when you’re doing it. He will melt into a puddle, his hips twitching back into your hand as he tries to get more of the wonderful feeling.

- He would want to do it doggystyle the first time since he’s heard it’s the easiest for the first time, but at some point, he will find himself on his back, his legs around your hips and you thrusting into him.

- Jason will definitely wrap his arms around you, but he has to remind himself to be careful since he is a lot stronger than you and he doesn’t want to hurt you. Loves when you make hickeys all over his neck and shoulders.

- He would want you to cum inside of him, because it makes him feel closer to you and he likes how full he feels as well.

Bubba Sawyer

- Bubba wouldn’t have much of a problem with bottoming, I just don’t think it’s come up until then. He’s never really thought about it, but he would like to try.

- He’s a lover, so you can expect him to want to kiss the entire time. Even when you’re stretching him open, he would want to kiss or touch you in one way or another. Please praise him, it makes him melt.

- Bubba would adjust quicker than Evan or Jason, again because I don’t think he sees anything shameful of anything to fear from bottoming. As long as your both having fun nothing else matters.

- Bubba is very embarrassed about the noises he would make when you touch his prostate, he would cover his face and blush. You would have to carefully remove his hands from his face and tell him its okay and its actually very flattering he’s so into it.

- He would want to do it missionary, at least the first time so you can look at each other and kiss and so he can hold you close. Bubba might also try to ride you but he’s so worried of accidentally squashing you that it ends up with him just holding himself up as you thrust up into him.

- Bubba wants all the cuddles afterwards, please hold him and run your hand through his hair, he will preen under your attention and cuddle you real close.

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5eraphim · 1 year

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Just read you DBD killers x Altruistic Reader (it was amazing, btw) and am now wondering if you could Deathslinger and or Wraith and Doctor too for it?

Aww, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this installment as well, and thank you so much for the request, I really appreciate it :)

Part 1 (Not required reading, but if you wanted to read more)

Rating: PG

Characters: Doctor, Wraith and Deathslinger

Word Count: 1.5k

Requests are currently open <3

The Doctor

Oh, this is gonna be good.

The Doctor is more knowledgeable than other killers and quickly picks up. You weren't unskilled or stupid given his eerily accurate ability to read and analyze people he'd maintained in the entitie's realm.

Furthermore, Herman was genuinely fascinated with you. His mind constantly tries to find new stimulation to fuel new experiments. And never before had he seen a survivor so dedicated to altruism as you were. Considerable given how long he'd served the entity in this realm.

From this point on, he would ensure you were in a near-constant state of madness. Constantly plaguing you with visions and auditory hallucinations, an agony where you were never sure you could trust your own mind. Herman wanted to observe and see if he could break you with this alone. If just a little spark of madness were enough to snuff out your altruism and lead you to behave as selfishly as the rest of your team. For some time, he was proven, unfortunately, correct.

In this state, you were blinded to the fact you were running past injured survivors you could've easily stopped by to heal. Racing in a blind panic from visions of the Doctor when he wasn't there and wasting your time cowering in fear while the rest of your team was forced to try and win the match without you. All the while, Herman felt a sick sense of pride, knowing he'd broken someone who once was so staunchly altruistic.

It was terrifying for you. Unable to ignore your team members' glares and cold shoulders after losing the match because of your inability to control your madness. The humiliation stung, though deep down, it was getting other people hurt that really got to you.

In the subsequent trial you fought against Herman, you spent what felt like ages mentally preparing yourself to fight the madness and swore you wouldn't let him break you so quickly as he had before. But, ultimately, you realized no madness could compare to the hatred you felt for him.

Eventually, you got your wish and found yourself facing off against the monster in question, hearing his skin-crawling giggle as he no doubt instantly had his eye on you. Though this time, you refused to let him have the upper hand. Staring him down, daring him to make the first move and prove you weren't so easily intimidated. You waited, expecting him to use his power or to start charging forward. You didn't expect to hear him taunting you, slowly drawing nearer with a composer you'd never seen from him before.

"What a privilege it is to possess such loyal prey."

You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to hold your ground and not flee like before. You continued to stare him down from your position. Internally you were waiting to sprint off the moment he charged at you for real. Internally you reasoned with yourself it was wise to keep him here as long as possible to buy your team more time. But his words caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but wonder what he meant by this.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were upset it'd been so long since we'd seen each other."

His words sent a chill down your spine. There was an off-putting edge to his words you'd never seen before. Enough to send you sprinting away, swearing to prove yourself to the rest of the team this match. You did your best to ignore the way you could've sworn you could still hear his voice in the back of your mind as you sprinted away.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder. I've so missed breaking you with my madness. It looks like we need to compensate for the lost time then, doesn't it?"

The Wraith

This truly hurt him to watch.

The only way he'd managed to endure his sadistic role in this realm inflicting pain upon the innocent was to let himself believe everyone here was evil. To convince himself, this was a place of misery for miserable people. The idea he was only doing what he was told, and if the survivors were in his position, they would do the same. It was simply the way things were.

But when he watched you never failing to stop and heal a teammate in need, the way you were so unafraid to take a hit for another despite the danger it meant for you awoken something within himself that lay dormant for a long time.

The Wraith wasn't afraid to take his suffering, this inner turmoil, out on you. How dare you remain so gentle and hopeful in a world which broke so many. He projected much of his guilt of becoming complacent in the suffering of others onto you, and every act of altruism he observed from you only spurred him on. Not allowing himself to think about the blatant denial he used to cope.

When he finally discovered how your team didn't work nearly as hard to save you, he realized how much he resonated with you.

He desperately felt he needed to communicate with you. He could ignore the obsession no longer. But, as much as he wanted to hate you or see you as everything he couldn't be, he knew it was all a lie.

After a fierce trial between you and him, he decided it was time to make his move. You were in such a panic watching your team fall one by one as you just couldn't seem to work fast enough. You failed to realize how you were being carefully monitored by the killer. Phillip moved as silently as a shadow behind you, not even needing to cloak himself as your fear fueled you, blinding you to the danger at hand.

Typically, when you saw the hatch spawn and knew the game was nearly over, you were always so relieved, but not this time. Instead, all you could focus on was the guilt you felt not being able to save anyone, hardly managing to preserve yourself against the killer you feared the most.

You could hear Phillip's bell chime close behind, your stomach sinking as you realized you were almost certainly about to die. Sure enough, after you ran close enough to nearly touch the hatch, you felt a hard blow between your shoulder blades. Knocking you down with the sheer force of the attack.

You waited for the mori that never struck. Instead, you heard a voice whispering in your ear,

"You want an easy way out. I can tell you want to keep your morality intact, but this is no way to do it. So please, don't end up like me."

And with that, the monster seemingly vanished altogether, as you were left alone, trying to force yourself to crawl forward despite how your head spun, unable to forget his words. You may not understand what he meant by this, but for a moment, you couldn't help but feel more compassion than fear for the monster.

The Death Slinger

When Caleb wised up to the way you were acting so recklessly with your own life, he was furious. He was forced to grow up tough in life and knew altruism like this would kill you. Though Caleb didn't want to admit it to himself, he also resented watching you save others, knowing he never had the luxury of someone doing the same for him when he was alive.

His tip-off about your intentions was watching you work on the generators. He may not have the best "people smarts," but he was an engineer in life, and he can tell a lot about someone by listening to them work on mechanics. Your competency quickly disproved his initial read of you as unskilled. In other words, you weren't going down so fast because you were just easy prey. You knew how to save yourself. There was just something else going on here entirely.

Despite all this, he cannot help but feel sympathy for you. Nothing upsets him like treachery, and the way no one else seemed to care whether you lived or died really affected him.

Caleb needed no additional reason to hate the survivors. But when he watched you limping post-trial around the fire with the others. It didn't matter to him how survivors were always restored to perfect health before every trial. That didn't change the fact it should be them in pain, not you!

Despite his obsession, you were hardly aware the cowboy was so obsessed with stalking you. After all, he was just the type to leave personal matters outside of trials, and from your point of view, the killer was just as ruthless and cruel to you as he was to anyone else. Though you couldn't shake the way, you could swear you saw his ghostly phantom-like eyes following you well after the match.

You were seriously taken off guard when you were pulled right behind him with the awful grip of his bayonet. Caleb leaning down to whisper in your ear,

"If you want to dig your grave to protect these snakes, you call a team. I won't stop you. But don't be surprised when you find a knife in your back that doesn't belong to a killer."

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anxiousnerdwritings · 2 years

Text

(Name),

I can’t for sure remember exactly how long it’s been since that fated day or the last time any of us saw you before that, but I know it’s had to have been quite awhile by now, right? Being here really messes with one’s concept of time but we never really paid too much mind to it, there are more important things at hand after all.

That all being said though you couldn’t possibly try to imagine our reactions to finding out you were stuck somewhere in this place too. We honestly didn’t believe Susie when she first told us, then again you wouldn’t have either given the state she was in. She was a complete sobbing, blabbering incoherent mess. It took us, or rather Julie, quite awhile to calm her down enough to actually understand what she was saying and none of us were prepared to hear it.

You were here.

You were actually really fucking here?!

There was no way. No way in hell you were in this place. No way. We couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't wrap my head around it. I guess I didn’t want to get our hopes up, my hopes up.

It wasn’t until the rest of us saw you for ourselves that it finally sunk in. You were really here, with us. Fortunately, we had our masks on so you didn’t recognize us. I promise next time our interaction will go differently, you won’t have to run away again or hide from us. I’m sorry we scared you, I really am, we all are, but it comes with the territory you know? Soon enough you’ll come to understand our new place in this world as Legion but we won’t go into that right away. We did just reunite after all. I promise you you’ll be safe with the four of us around now. We’ll protect you no matter what. You’re our only exception, the rest of the other survivors are still free game though.

Now that we do have you with us again don’t expect us to just give up on you. After everything you’re not going to go anywhere ever again. We’ve missed you so fucking much and you being here only reminds us of what we’ve missed out on since we came here so there’s no way we could possibly just let you abandon us. Not again. And we will go through as many other survivors as we have to just to keep you.

-Frank

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toci-slasher · 2 years

Text

Imagine) Pyramid Head x Exhausted Reader!GN-R

!GN-R = Gender Neutral Reader

- - - - - - - - - -

I love pyramid head and have been loving him more recently since watching someone playthrough Silent Hill 2......... ugh obsessed I just wanna return to him after an exhausting ass day

Word Count: 666 (funny number unplanned! could u believe it?!)

Edit: Some grammar fixes (word count not updated) Thanks sm for all the support on this!

- - - - - - - - - -

Exhausted y/n moping slowly around the ground floor of Midwich to find Pyramid Head after a long day of tormenting trials thrown at them nonstop.

After a long climb up the two flights of stairs to the top floor the familiar noise of metal scraping along splintering floorboards is heard just within y/n's reach, a noise that has become a comfort to them(y/n), a nerving one to others, that last burst of energy found in order to find the source of the sound before this hopeful adrenaline drained out completely.

Closing the distance between the noise and y/n, eventually rounding a corner to face the muscular back of the familiar figure sporting a large helm, the enormous blade dragging behind the being as he continued surveying the familiar hallways, unbeknownst of the company behind him.

Soft sniffles echoed behind the being's back had prompted him to turn swiftly, glancing down the long corridor to lock onto the petite figure where the babbled sniffling emanated from.

The sniffling briefly turned to a small sob before an exhausted "Rrreedddd....." echoed from the small figure, a longing but weary sign of accomplishment, a feeling of finally being at ease after the long day just from the sight of him.

As Pyramid Head turned to his right to place his large knife against the worn walls, y/n was already drowsily walking toward him, upon the last few steps, opening their arms to an exhausted bend, just about able to lift the heavy weight their arms felt as though they bore.

Pyramid Head walked toward them upon their last few steps, meeting them in a softened grasp, as close as pyramid head undstood a "hug". Y/n wrapped their arms around the firm waist of the helmed creature, squeezing as much as their last allowance of energy could bare before causing them to collapse.

Pyramid head had placed his hands gently on their back, the heavy helm tilting downward to glance at the short human grasping desperately onto his waist, their head snuffling into the familiar butchers smock, uncaring about the dried damage of the day which prickled almost every inch of his attire.

A gentle metallic hum rumbled through his helm, causing his chest and abdomen to vibrate gently, one of which y/n felt against their now warmed face from the taught grasp they still held on him.

Pyramid Head moved his heavy hands to their(y/n) forearms, ever so gently peeling the exhausted y/n from his abdomen/chest area, as though he was looking down at them, for only a brief second he was examining the expression on their face... teary weary eyes met back with the glance from the large red helm, their arms still extended awaiting to reattach themself to their big helmed water bottle.

Instead of inviting them back into a hug, Red glanced to his right, grabbing his large knife with his right hand, his left stayed placed on their forearm until confident in his grip on the knife, tilting back to them, he ran his thumb over their forearm tenderly before loosening his gentle grip on them.

A quiet metallic groan soothed from the helm and down his muscular body as he kneeled, extending his arm out in order to scoop y/n into a half bridal style carry, his one arm more than enough to carry the weight of his petite companion.

As y/n nestled their head into the crook between his helm and shoulder, they gently placed a sleepy kiss upon the end of his collarbone, then snuggled their head in as though trying to get closer to him than what was even possible.

It wasn't long before y/n would get the rest their deserved and longed for after their day of trials, to be sure of one thing, Pyramid Head was going to be looking after them until the next day began. Unknowingly being of great comfort to Red himself, feeling the tension in his muscles release even upon the sight of his y/n.

I havent wrote anything in literally forever yyiers barf barf barf anyway I love p head! yas!

#Pyramid Head #PyramidHead #Pyramid Head x Reader #Imagine #Pyramid Head imagine #Silent Hill x Reader #Silent Hill Imagine #DBD #dbd x reader #Dead By Daylight x Reader #Dbd imagine

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queendeeshorrorimagines · 1 year

Note

Wesker anon here! I hope you’re having a nice day/night! I saw you were asking for requests, so.. If its alright with you, how would Wesker react to a gender neutral reader who quite obviously has a crush on him? Like I mean.. full on blushing and constantly gets caught staring at him..

Albert Wesker's reaction to future s/o having an obvious crush on him:

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: mentions of manipulation.

I'm sorry if this sucks dear Wesker Anon. I hope you enjoy dear and happy holidays.

Albert is an highly observant guy given his background. It's highly likely that he knows that you're enamored with him earlier than most people.

If he's your captain, he will do little things to make you blush.

It could be his light touches on your skin while helping you while training, or him letting you do your paperwork in his office with him alone.

At first, the whole thing as a way for him to use you to benefit his own desires. Wesker tried to convince himself that for the longest time that he was only using your crush on him to have his way.

The other's notice how he acted around you and were quick to catch on that their captain does have a soft spot for the rookie.

You can bet that Jill and Chris would use his soft spot for you to prove their point that you're his favorite even though he says he has no favorites.

"You say you have no favorites but you tend to be awfully close to the rookie at training. You didn't do it for the others."

The whole charade would end with him confronting you in his office about how you act around him. Once you bashfully tell him that you had a crush on him, he would ask you out to dinner in the most cool and collected way.

If this is DBD! Wesker, things would be slightly different. He's still the same smug bastard than before.

Albert would know from the moment he saw the way you looked at him that you were attracted to him.

Your obvious attraction only fuels his ego more. He would show off even more when you're in the trial against him.

It could range from showing off how much more powerful he was via the uroboros all the way to how much larger and muscular he was (especially when he wears his S.T.A.R.S uniform)

It's basically anything to get you to blush and stumble with your words.

As the more trials the two of you end up playing in, the more that Wesker grows fond of you.

It would eventually end up with him sacrificing your other teammates while you get hatch.

No matter how often your teammates use you as their human shield, Wesker would always end up with catching them while you end up with a wound- he still has a job to do even though you're crushing on him.

The entity notices how the two of you interact with each other and would eventually set up a deal with Wesker about keeping you with him on his realm.

#dees arnold palmer #queendeeshorrorimagines #wesker anon #wesker anon request #gender neutral reader #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker imagine #dbd wesker imagines #dead by daylight imagines #resident evil imagines #dbd imagine #re imagines

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sharksnshakes · 1 year

Text

Wesker Tormenting A New Survivor! HCs

It's too bad that nobody taught you, the new survivor, not to make a fool of Albert Wesker. It looks like he'll have to teach you himself.

A/N; every day y'all become more and more psychic. bc this was sitting in my drafts and @vasani was like 'yo can u take a crack at wesker???' so this is me, here, taking a crack at wesker. can't get over the fact that RE's most fearsome villain is named albert

Wordcount; 700ish

TW; dbd typical violence, death, mentions of mental and physical violence, suggestive themes, toxic behavior, narcissistic behavior, cursing, albert wesker is The Worst

Wesker thinks he's above everyone and everything, so let's make that clear right off the bat. Mans legitimately thinks he's unparalleled, please someone tell him to humble himself??

Anyhow.

That being said, Wesker's not the type to single out specific survivors. UNLESS, of course, the brand new survivor calls him a bitch to his face. Then, all bets are off...

What ticks him off the most is when he's made a fool of, especially by someone he sees as below him. Especially when you, a mere survivor (and a new one at that!) manage to somehow beat him at his own game, distracting him while the rest of your team escapes.

When you make it through the gates, he's 1) stunned and 2) furious. How had he been so shortsighted? How had you managed to actually outsmart him?

He swears to never let it happen again--and what better way to do that then by teaching you a lesson?

Trials with Wesker are immediately 1000000x worse than any other killers. The ambiance totally changes:

The air feels thick, unbreathable; there's a sense of complete and total dread that sucks the breath right out of your lungs. Tree branches sag, heavy with the promise of a bloody trial to follow.

Takes out the rest of your team as soon as he can in favor of focusing on you, like, they're Mori'd within three minutes.

You don't exist to him until any potential interruptions (your teammates) are eliminated, and will be straight-up ignored until they're out of the picture. Will Mori your teammates right in front of you in increasingly violent ways, staring at you and only you while he does the deed.

Aggressive, but in a weirdly calm way. He's cold and precise, very calculating, but won't hesitate to lash out in a moment of fury. Though logic guides most of Wesker's actions against you, emotion takes over more often than not...

Ex; Wesker would Mori you with his hands, but he thinks you're too far below him to deserve it, so you'll get Uroboros instead.

Not only does this scare you shitless, but it prolongs that feeling of helplessness he's trying so desperately to instill in you.

Also, he was literally the head of an elite tactical force, so not only is Wesker ruthless, but he's incredibly methodical. Knows how to wear down an opponent in every way and will do it to the point of overkill--he wants to watch the hope drain from your eyes on repeat. Nobody makes Wesker feel like a fool. Again, he's trying to teach you a lesson.

Studies you in and out of matches (everything from healing your teammates to fixing gens).

Not dumb enough to get close to the campfire, but when you're swapping stories with other survivors, you often get the feeling someone's watching you just out of sight.

I hate to say it, but Wesker's one of the killers you have, like, zero fighting chance against. Will actively laugh at you if you try to fight back, then slam to you against the nearest wall with Uroboros... ouch.

He's kind of a paradox tbh, because he doesn't want to give you attention (everyone's below him, remember?) but wants to knock you down a peg, effectively, painfully, over and over and over again. The only way to do that is to study you, so mans is suffering from INTENSE cognitive dissonance. Please send him to therapy.

Unlike other killers, he won't really get attached to you over time?? He is, however, royally pissed off when other killers mention how they Mori'd you, and will be twice as intense in the next trial he has with you. Mans is lowkey territorial.

TLDR; when Wesker targets you, he will target every aspect of you. He'll tear you down physically, psychologically, emotionally, and he'll do it to the extreme. He feels a need to regain his stolen honor, and, just like a bully on the playground, he thinks the best way to redeem himself is to push others around. And if anyone threatens that--whether they're a killer or a survivor--he'll take them out, too.

Yikes...

To say the least.

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #albert wesker imagine #the mastermind #dbd #dbd imagine #dbd x reader #dead by daylight #tw violence #tw death #suggestive themes #tw toxic behavior #i've got a soft spot for him #like he's not a good person #but the soft spot is there nontheless #request

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airbendertendou · 2 months

Text

high ♡ frank morrison

soulmate au where you reincarnate until you meet / stay with your soulmate.

cw ; typical dbd warnings [blood n gore] ; heavy song mention, you can decide what song it is ; might b ooc but idc <3 ; how legion looks is up to you! ; dbd lore could b inaccurate

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

Your surroundings were new ; unfamiliar as your eyes flutter open. You’re on your back, staring at the cloudless sky as the summer heat hits you from every summer. You twist awkwardly, your elbows hitting the ground and lifting you onto your knees as you still, eyeing the area that surrounds you. Heated air smacks against you again — this summer was brutal.

You pause — it was summer, wasn’t it?

“Hey, newbie!” A voice barely below a whisper is targeted at you. Turning, you see a person with a beanie covering turquoise colored hair. They rush your way, grabbing your wrist and dragging you with them to a giant machine. “No time to explain. Just put your hands near this — a generator — and they’ll do the rest. Careful of sparks.”

You do as they say, watching as their body tensed. Finally, she introduced herself quietly when she deemed the coast was clear. You clear your throat, “[Name]. Where are we?”

“Coldwind Farm.” The generator clicks and whirs as Nea pauses, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Really cranked the heat up this time.”

The generator sputters to life, a light clicking on above you and exposing you to everything nearby. Nea cusses under her breath, rising to her feet quickly and rushing away from the loud machinery. You follow after her cluelessly, bumping into her back when she stops abruptly. Nea frowns, “we need to go separate ways now.”

“But—”

“Go fix another generator,” calloused hands fall onto your shoulders. Nea squeezes reassuringly and her face switches to something else — someone else. You blink and she’s back to normal, looking around you both cautiously. “If your heartbeat begins to pick up, get away.”

She’s gone without another word and you find yourself standing there, alone and vulnerable.

Shuffling awkwardly, you hustle along a barn, eyeing the field in front of you warily. Letting out a long breath, you take a chance and sprint into the field. Nea told you to work on generators, but you felt safer out of plain view. Crouching down, you hide your face in your knees and simply sit there.

A scream echoes around you and you flinch, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet. The field sways from side to side as something — someone, maybe — drifts through it. Another scream hits — two more beams of light, showing more generators were done.

Nea would be angry when she found out you did nothing to help. But your head was aching, scrambled with new thoughts and images of the past you couldn’t forget. Someone drifts by you again and you make yourself smaller, frown on your lips as you fight a whimper. You were so confused — so lost and tattered as more thoughts piled into your mind.

All too soon, the sound of your heartbeat began to pick up. Deciding to actually listen to Nea’s advice, you pause. No sound of movement is heard over the thumps of your heart — coast is clear. Jumping up from the field, you turn and book it, only to run straight into a body.

Pink hair is falling out of a hood, knife poised and ready to strike. The faceless mask seemingly stares at you for a minute, their arm falling until the knife clutters from their hand. A sharp intake, and then the sound of your name, muttered softly from behind the mask.

A ground shaking noise is heard, the killer cursing and grabbing at their knife frantically as you make your escape. A blond is ushering people through a giant door, a bulletproof vest over his chest. His stern face drops at the sight of you, eyes widening as he watches you quicken your pace.

“Shit. Nea was right.” He follows behind you, putting his hands on your back as you pause. “Keep goin’, newbie. We’re almost home.”

Home. Home sounded so nice right now. You race into the shining light at the end of the hallway, ignoring your name as it’s called frantically behind you.

——♡——

The campfire in front of you was not home. There are too many names — too many new faces from either side of you. Nea is across the fire from you ; the man from before sat beside you. Leon is looking over you questioningly, blue eyes surveying your trembling hands and wide eyes.

“There’s not a new killer. So, why—”

“Not that we’ve seen.”

Laurie rolls her eyes, continuing as if she wasn’t just interrupted. “It doesn’t make any sense to just get a survivor, that’s all.”

An older man hums, also eyeing you. Despite the warmth of the fire in front of you, a cold chill has seeped into your being. You shiver and let out a breath — you swear you can see it fog up in front of you. “Could be late, the killer. Make us comfortable and off guard, only for a new killer to show up.”

“I,” you lick your lips. The campsite grows silent as they wait for you to speak. “The one before. Who was that?”

“They call themselves Legion.” Leon is the one who lets you know. He tilts his head, “four of ‘em, I think.” His eyes travel across you again, “seemed to know you.”

“What does that mean?” Laurie speaks up again. Her eyes narrow in your direction, focusing on the way you tense up. Her gaze flicks back to Leon, “it’s a little late for their survivor to appear.”

“Called out [name] as we were leaving.” He bites his lip, attention drifting across the fire before it’s back. Leon looks down, but watches you from the corner of his eye. “Wanted to talk to you desperately.”

You shake your head before he can say anything else. You look to Laurie’s glaring figure then down as you clasp your hands together. “I don’t know anyone with pink hai—”

A giggle echoes in your mind, spiraling in your thoughts. Her face is so clear in your mind — perfectly structured and grinning as she giggles with three others. Just as quick as the thought comes, though, it vanishes.

As if it never happened.

Fog takes over Leon and Laurie, saving you from any further questions. A chill runs through you and you shrink in on yourself, arms wrapping around your torso helplessly. Mindless chatter is scattered around the campfire — it feels warm, safe here, but you miss the sight of home.

Nea plops down beside you with a huff, new fingerless gloves covering her hands. She tugs them farther up her wrist at your gaze, clenching her hands together as she tries to get used to them. “A gift. You get one if you perform well ; if you’re entertaining enough.”

“Newbie!” is called from across the campfire. The man has a heavy accent as he speaks, an arrogant grin on his face as he waves. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

That’s something you do remember Leon mentioning — the loss of memories. The longer you stayed, the foggier and more distant they became. You dreaded the day that would happen — your mind was scrambled enough.

You hum, picking at your nails nervously. Everyone’s attention is on you again — anxiety crawls up your throat. “A song. I was listening to music.”

A girl with golden hair grins, looking up from the guitar she's tuning. "What kind? I could try playing it for you."

Nodding, your eyes squint as you think of the song you remember hearing. It was so engrained in your mind — so planted into your memories that it was the one thing you could never forget. As you begin to hum quietly, Quentin perks up from across the fire. He lifts an eyebrow, "old school, huh?"

Kate nods along to the silent beat, trying her best to mimic the sound you make. She pauses, ear turned towards you as she continues. You stop abruptly and her eyes snap open. "That's all I remember."

"No words?" Nancy tilts her head.

You shrug, the corner of your mouth tilting up helplessly. "No words." Not yet, at least.

——♡——

Ghostface was your favorite killer. Which would sound strange in different circumstances — but dying daily, hourly, you were bound to get used to it eventually. He liked the chase — liked to skip and giggle and sing as he sauntered after you.

That's why you don't mind playing bait for him. He liked new survivors — only here for a few weeks [that you tried to keep up with] meant you still had newbie status. Currently, a game of hide and seek was occuring — you peeked from the side of a building when Ghostafce wasn't looking, and he'd lift up from behind the bush as he chose to giggle at you.

It made you smile — the way you could act silly in the middle of a murder spree.

Springwood always welcomed you at midnight, the moon and hazed streetlights your only source of light. As you tip-toe — Ghostie was on your trail, of course — the air swoops through. It sends a chill through you — like you're back in the snowy mountains of... somewhere.

A slam to your head sends you sprawling on the ground. Ghostface stops, his knife poised as you blink deliriously. Feng grimaces, "oops."

When your eyes blink open, you're staring at a mountain view. The tops are saturated with snow, hued a light blue and white. The door creaks open, a disgruntled figure coming into view. Their nose is scrunched as a steaming mug is headed your way.

"Here's your stupid hot cocoa."

"How stupid can it be when you have a cup, too?" You find yourself asking. Like this conversation was memorized — like this had all happened before. Your hands curl around the mug, cozying up in the bed you know isn't yours. "Why are you so grumpy today anyways?"

"Julie," they grumble. They huff, sitting beside you, as close as they could without causing a blush to form. "Won't leave me alone about new songs or her guitar or you."

Me? you want to say. But, you remember the answer you always got. 'She's sure we're soulmates — me and her. Doesn't want any of us to get hurt.'

Sweet and selfish — yeah, that was Julie.

You set your drink on the nightstand closest to you, warmed hands falling on their own. "Frank—"

Frank, your Frank. Frank, Frank, Frank. You remembered his name now — you wouldn't forget it again.

He sighs, laying his head on your shoulder. "It's me and you, I know it. It has to be."

"What if Julie's right, though?" You wrap your arm around his shoulers — you always liked being close to him, touching in the smallest bit when you could. "About us not being soulmates? We could have someone else out there."

"I don't want anyone but you."

A distraction. Frank always needed a distraction of some sort or else he'd get mad. When Frank got mad, he exploded. Something he was wokring on — something you helped him with. You jiggle your shoulder until he sits up. "Play me something."

His light beige acoustic guitar stands against the wall. Julie's lilac one is set on his desk, half of the strings missing. Another thing that points them at being perfect together — another thing that separates you. Frank sighs, his eyes pointing to the ceiling in annoyance. [He's too giddy to play for you, wanting your praise and your eyes on him only.]

Clearing his throat, Frank adjusts himself comfortably. You grab your mug, sipping on the chocolate now that it'd cooled down. His eyes narrow, “you tell anyone I sung this for you—”

“I won’t, promise!” You say it through laughter, but keep your promise regardless. The guitar strums and Franks hushed, soft voice drifts into the room. You sway in your seat, your eyes closing in comfort.

When they snap open, Ghostface is staring down at you once more. He tilts his head and you let out a gasp. "Words. I remember words."

As quickly as you can, you have Kate play the melody once more. You sing along as best as you can, the memories clearer than ever. Quentin yawns as he bops his head, the words leaving his mouth in mumbles. Leon hums your song as he works on generators, Meg speaking the words as she gets chased.

Soon, the entire camp is singing a song only you remember. And then Ghostface sings it one night while at the killer's camp.

His back is slammed into a tree, a smaller body pining him there. He raises his hands in innocence. A knife is held to his throat, "where did you hear that?"

He can't even squeak out your name before she's pulled off of him. Pink hair falls from a hood as Susie holds her friend back. Whispers of I told you! echo around the woods before they go silent.

Julie lets out a sigh, "let's hope Frank doesn't find out about this."

——♡——

The air is cold as the fog releases you from its grasp. You wish you had a thicker coat, wish you could sip on that stupid hot cocoa you keep thinking of. Quinten nods as he passes you, almost slipping from the icy ground. Your breath surrounds you in a fog as you tip-toe to a generator further away.

Steve kneels beside you to rewire the generator, huffing as his body wracks through a shiver. "Hate this place."

"I like it," you say absentmindedly. It was cold, of course, but something about the lodge in the distance seemed welcoming — familiar. Your mouth lifts into a smile, "could be cozy up there."

He snorts, "and be in the mercy of whatever Legion member is lurking? Be my guest."

Somehow, that's exactly where you find yourself. Crunching through the snow, you stare up at the barren walls. There should be paper there — pieces of ripped and weathered signs that scream missing on every inch. Signs that you stared at until your skin wrinkled and you forgot them again.

The fireplace crackles as you walk through the front door. Warmth should cover you, should comfort you, but the feeling of loss and dread crawls up your throat like nausea. You gulp — Steve was right, I shouldn't be here.

Yun-jin screams outside — she sounds close, but your feet are glued to the floor. Hurried steps crunch under the window closest to you — you only stare. Looking back is a picture of four people — five when you wipe away the dust. Staring back is a picture of you.

You don't acknowledge the tears that cloud up your eyes when the door creaks open. Heavy, booted feet inch closer to you achingly slow, your heartbeat picking up in fear. Quentin yells your name from the window and the footsteps pause.

Your body is jerked around, teary eyes facing your supposed killer of the day. The mask makes you jolt, the tattoos peeking through causing your tears to turn into sobs. The knife shakes in his hands before it falls to the floor, useless. His mask is ripped from his face, heaving breaths the only thing in the room.

As the world goes dark, your sobs grow louder.

Your head is in someone's lap as you slowly regain consciousness. You feel like you're floating — like the game you've been forced to play has been put on pause. Blinking your eyes open, you see Frank peering down at you. His eyes are rimmed red, a teardrop falling from the tip of his nose and to your cheek.

He lets out a shaky sigh, "I never wanted you to be here."

You swallow, your chest suddenly tight and your throat dry. "I thought of you," you say. Frank's chest heaves with a sob he doesn't allow to escape. "Every day. Every decade. You were the face I would dream of, but couldn't name."

Frank almost cradles you to his chest as he cries. You rub his back as well as you can, shushing him as he hiccups. When he releases you, he helps you sit up slowly. Finally face to face with him, all thoughts leave your mind. Your hand raises absentmindedly, tracing the scar you once memorized.

Frank lets out another sigh, trembling as you stare at him. "You shouldn't be here. You're too good for a place like this."

"Where are we, anyways?" Your eyebrows furrow as you take in your surroundings. Like the lodge, it's warm and familiar. You grow even more confused. "Your room? Why?"

"Dunno," he shrugs. You're gathered back into his hold, one hand settled between your shoulder blades. "Don't care."

The room around you seems to rumble at his words. You wince, meeting his eyes with a small grin. "Don't think we have long, Frank."

His shoulders sag at the sound of you saying his name. Laying his forehead on your shoulder, he takes in a deep breath. "I knew it — knew Julie was wrong. We are soulmates — we have to be."

You pull away from him briefly, lips pursed in thought. "And now you have to kill me."

"No." Frank is adament —sure in his statement. "Not you. Not ever."

The room rumbles again and you grin. "Guess she knows that, too."

——♡——

idk how satisfied i am w this one but after sitting in my drafts half done for a year, it’s finished !!

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

#💝 : soulmate au’s #frank morrison x reader #frank Morrison imagine #legion x reader #the legion x reader #the legion imagines #the legion oneshot #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dbd imagine #dbd legion #dead by daylight imagines #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine

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darkdevasofdestruction · 2 years

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omg yay!! okay so after reading that the reader in your lovely pyramid head fanfic befriended most of the killers (it was so cute😿) and comforting them, encouraging them, etc. i got an idea for a request with jiwoon!!

so, he develops a kind of weird friendship with a survivor, whos willing to listen to his music and his story in general and thay obviously boost his already gigantic ego but also it makes him completly enamored with the reader!!

and i imagine him to be really clingy and all, so he probably just suprises her by hugging her while shes repairing a gen or scrolling through the entity's realm and he gets so overprotective sometimes, he wont let anyone come near them when theyre together and keeps calling her affectionate names and other stuff bc hes in love!! why wouldnt he do that . but the surv is literally so obvious and dense she thinks those are just friendly gestures.

so um, this got really out of hand and is probably chaotic af, but based on that, could i request something about him acting like that? or just soft in general fic/drabble with jiwoon?? depends on what you feel like writing🥰

First of all, I’m so happy that you liked my work! Secondly, I hope you’ll like this too! <3

Though he was the newest killer brought by the Entity, for the longest time, he never got to have his go at a trial, so he got incredibly frustrated and bored, took his bat and went into the woods by himself to hit trees and bushes by himself.

At first, he was excited to be taken in a place where he could kill at his leisure without any consequence, but what CAN he kill if he can’t go array outside of the trials, and he’s not being taken to one already?

After he’s channeled most of his frustrations on whatever vegetation he found, he started singing some of his songs and practicing his choreography out there where nobody could bother him.

Or so he thought.

He wasn’t the only one with the brilliant idea of taking a walk - You, also, took frequent walks away from the Survivor’s Camp because they were never that nice with you, hence why you got along much better with the Killers.

So when you heard some acapella singing, you got really excited and went ahead to look who’s the artist - But you were also pretty shy, so as soon as you picked up a human silhouette, you hid behind a tree and peeked at the eccentric looking man.

He was singing in Korean, and from his looks, outfit and dancing skills, he looked like a k-pop idol.

He was so talented though, you were absolutely mesmerised!

As soon as he made his final move and stopped singing, as if basking in the silent applause that he would get, should he have been at a real show... He actually DID hear clapping.

Turning around, he noticed your timid form from behind the tree, cheering on him, wearing a bashful smile on your face.

“That was really beautiful! Congratulation for you show!” he was mesmerised beyond belief --

Someone in this shithole was actually appreciating his art! He was in love! Oh, he was sooo~ in love!

He will walk all cocky towards you, putting his arm around your shoulder and pull you flushed to his chest, calling you ‘Jagi’ before he pulled out his phone to show you his full discography and pointing out at which time there were the screams of his victims synthetized, and he started explaining how he mixed them into the music, how he found out the way to manipulate the screams and grunt of pain, where to hit the person to create each sound and what not.

You didn’t care much about how macabre it sounded - You had already got used to all this chaotic mess - So you were really captivated by the whole process of creating peak art.

From then on, Jiwoon would come to the Survivor’s Camp ALL the time just to grab you by the wrist and pull you to his camp or into the forest - He’ll have you dance with him while he sang or hummed, or will have to be the spectator to his shows while he performed for you.

Sometimes you think that he has no idea what your name is, because he only calls you pet names like ‘Jagi’, ‘Jagiya’, ‘Yeobo’ or ‘Nae sarang’ and many more.

Whenever the two of you are together, he’ll keep an arm around you, sometimes his hands even wandering here and there, and would kiss your cheeks, neck or jaw, just to show off how you are his and nobody can even look at you.

His favourite time is when the two of you are in a trial and he gets to surprise you by jump-hugging you when you least expect it.

Jiwoon would drag you around the whole place just so he could show off the sounds he gets out of the victims while he mori’s them - Oh, he gets so cocky, especially when you point out which song and what part of it can fit with the same kind of scream the dead survivor made - You were really paying attention to him!

He would dip you back and pull you into a deep kiss - You really managed to stroke and inflate his ego to the maximum.

He doesn’t have much influence when in comes to keeping other killers at bay during their trial with you, but at least when you’re with him, you know you’re having fun and will always escape without a single scratch or bruise.

After all, The Trickster only loves your sweet sounds and sighs, that make for a completely different and out of bounds melody that only he gets to listen to.

#dbd x reader #dbd imagine #dbd headcanons #dbd #dead by daylight imagine #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #dead by daylight headcanons #the trickster #the trickster x reader #the trickster imagine #the trickster headcanons #jiwoon hak #jiwoon hak x reader #jiwoon hak headcanons #jiwoon hak imagine

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florestmoon · 2 years

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Can I please request Pyramid Head getting his first massage from his S / O? Like, he probably doesn't know what she's trying to do to him so he's a little cautious at first. But then he realizes how good it feels and quickly caves in. thank you very much. :)

Poor pyramid head always gotta be carrying that big ass knife and helmet…and a fatty so he deserves a nice massage <33

Everyone could notice the awkward position Pyramid Head was stuck in as he dragged the huge knife behind him. The way his body was bend backward at an angle that you knew wouldn’t be comfortable for more than a few minutes, while he was like that for most of the duration of trials.

So you had came up with a brilliant plan. A spa day! Expect instead of all the supplies that one would see in a spa, you only had your hands. And, instead of an actual spa setting, the entity only granted the creepy elementary school that he resided in between trials.

Okay..you can still make it work ?

Or maybe not, with the way this gigantic man was watching you struggle to move him. Helmet tilted as you huffed after another failed attempt to force him to sit down on the large desk that was placed in front of a classroom, directly in front of a chalk board.

“Can you please just..sit down ?” You sighed impatiently, hands gripping onto one of his forearms. Your fingers couldn’t even fully grasp his arm, while one of his hands could easily wrap itself around both of your arms and keep them secure.

The thought always brought a weird feeling to spread inside him. You being so small compared to him, just a tiny human while he could easily crush you in a heartbeat. But he never did. He never could. You were already too important to him.

Despite the amusement of watching you struggle to move an inch of him, he was a bit weary on why you had came to his realm in a hurry and insisted on him to sit down and “relax”. Why would he want to relax when he could be wandering the realm with you and holding your hand ? He found that relaxing.

But seeing a frustrated look on your face, he took pity and allowed himself to sit on the teacher’s desk. The wood creaking under his weight did nothing to stop the smile that crept on your face.

“Good! Now, please place that stupid sword against the wall..”

Sword? Huh.

He hesitated before reaching to the side and leaning his knife against the chalkboard before turning his heads towards you again. You nodded and pulled yourself onto the desk behind him, placing your hand on his helmet with a small “Nuh uh.” when he tried turning around to see what you were doing.

The positions was weird with you on your knees behind him as he sat at the edge of the desk. But with the size difference and the lack of anything else but desks in the abandoned school, you had to work with what you got.

“Look forward.” You demanded. “Trust me okay? You’re always walking around with that damn knife and I’ve never see you actually sit down..or even sleep? Does your body not hurt?”

You didn’t expect an answer, of course, so you ran your hand up his back slowly. His body tensing underneath your touch.

“It’s okay.” You murmur, pressing your fingers hard against a knot that caused him to go rigid and reach a hand behind to grab your wrist. His tight grip didn’t stop you though, your other hand reaching his shoulder. You massaged it slowly. “It’ll feel good. I promise.”

His grip loosened as you continued to massage his shoulder, allowing you rub your fingers along his back. You weren’t going to lie, the feel of his hard muscles was turning you on a bit..

We must stay focused brothers, we must stay focused

“This would probably feel better lying down honestly,” you chuckle, his posture relaxing as time went on. “And with lotion. But hey, better than nothing right?”

Your small fingers against his skin had him melting against you instantly. He didn’t understand what you were doing to him. Was this magic? Were you some type of witch that was using their powers to keep him subdued and at your mercy?!

Even if it was true, he didn’t stop himself from submitting to you and allowing for the pleasure to take over his body.

A deep rumbling sound vibrated around the small classroom. You blinked once you realized it came from him. Oh, that’s cute.

Smiling, you move off the desk and place yourself in front of him. His hands not hesitating to wrap around your waist as you continued to massage his shoulder and the front of his chest.

“Feels nice huh?”

A small nod of the helmet was your response.

You begin to massage his arms, rubbing and kneading down to his wrist before grabbing his hand and rubbing tiny circles along the palm. His content sounds only growing louder as you moved to the other arm.

The hand you finished massaging came up to your face, cupping your cheek as you focused on his other hand. The gesture clear enough of what he wanted to say.

Thank you.

#dbd #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #dbd x you #dbd imagines #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head #silent hill #silent hill imagines #the executioner #slashers x you #slashers #slashers imagine #slashers x reader #hopefully the position makes sense lol #requests

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angelharness · 1 year

Text

I hope you dont mind me writing more of this timeline? Scenario? I have a few more ideas for this version of the reader and ghostface, not all in chronological order, though i’d place this one after my first writing. If there’s interest in this series I’d love to expand on it

These and Other Lucky Witnesses

WARNINGS: off-screen murder, still fairly descriptive

DANNY “JED OLSEN” JOHNSON / THE GHOSTFACE

You didn’t expect anything for your anniversary. Both of you worked, had to, to consistently scrape by. Danny picked up every project he could, whether or not it was manageable with his already swamped wordload. You were thinking of taking on another job, since your current one was so resistant to giving you more hours. In short, the two of you had loaded plates and waning time together, even one year into living with each other.

Even knowing this, there’s a deep disappointment as you whittle away at your last hour of work.

The holidays mean an influx of customers at work in your tailor shop. Velvet dresses brimming with foamy lace, pristine suit jackets, matching dress pants, carefully embroidered button ups, all divided cleanly and safely in sheets of plastic on color coded hangers. No one ever picks up their items on time; instead, they love to wait until the last half hour before closing to all rush over and come stampeding in like loose cattle, typically requiring you to stay open an extra twenty or so excruciating minutes.

Today, that works in Danny’s favor.

He had been stressing. He hadn’t planned on taking on another victim this week—it was shaping up to be a slow one, and he was very much ok with that. Nearly getting unmasked in a skirmish a month ago had sent him into a period of hiding and reminded him of his humanity. It was weird to say he was rattled by the experience. That is all to say the night was meant to be uneventful. Money was tight, as it always seems to be around the holidays, in time for the blinking assault of green and red lights and the spray of white paint in shop windows to imitate a snowy landscape.

The two of you had agreed you wouldn’t be able to do anything particularly fancy today, no extravagant gifts or pricey restaurant trips. He had been saving, even still, with the hopes of buying you something. He had never been great with picking out gifts, given that he had never been on the receiving end, either, so he had struggled to find something meaningful. Not to mention, a medical bill all over a few stitches had eaten through his last couple of paychecks (only cementing the idea to him that he ought to learn how to close up a wound on his own).

A nice dinner at home is planned for the evening. It won’t be anything spectacular, he reminds himself, but he’s insistent to show that he’s remembered. He’s been so caught up in his other identity, only recently breaking from this character to wonder if he’d been neglecting you. Danny knows he’s too involved in orchestrating the script of Ghostface, it’s an all consuming aspect of his person, he’d never be able to part from the persona he’s drained so much thought into—there’d been incredible hesitation from the get go when he met you and things advanced further than expected. Inevitably, between you and the Ghostface, one would end up untended to, and your recent sourness suggests that has been you.

That’s why this display seems too insultingly minor. A nice dinner and time spent with a loved partner should communicate appreciation, but Danny was never great at operating interpersonal relationships. It would be naive to say they scared him, rather it’s like handling an exotic animal. That’s his problem—Danny performs, directs, coordinates, he doesn’t truly live, does he? Everything is a value he wants precedence over. He earns a look from a passerby when he scoffs out loud.

He’s off early, headed to the grocery store, admittedly bitter thinking about the trek back on foot, but there’s a delightful little change in plans when he sees her.

Gold, curled hair, with gleaming green eyes and cakey foundation that flakes at her deep smile lines. She’s a beautiful woman, no doubt about it, but his attention is fixated on the hand clutching her purse; some forgettable designer brand, presumably, but he looks further at a finger wearing a glittering ring (he didn’t think or care to check if it was her ring finger, his mind was set.) It’s gorgeous, a gentle gold that’s not overwhelmingly yellow—rosey is the word—curling delicately around a gleaming gem. It’s undeniably opal, with how the light on it shifts in a kaleidoscope of colors, not diamond, but he thinks he prefers it. Everyone does diamond, anyways. His mind is made in that moment.

The lady nearly shoves past him, too entrenched in a loud conversation with the man next to her, decidedly not a partner, given the many feet of space between them. Danny stops for only a second, not letting himself stare, but he feels his heart thunder.

He thinks. But not for too long. He listens to their voices fade until they’re unintelligible before he stops again, thinks again, purses his lips and pretends to pat desperately at his pockets, making a show of sighing and throwing his head back, frustrated, before turning on his heel and starting down the sidewalk in the direction the two had disappeared. There had not been anyone else around, something he had eventually begun to note subconsciously whenever in public, but he’s practiced the display so much it was almost subconscious itself.

She never thinks to look back. Not once. Not after parting with her friend, not after taking a shortcut down a considerably darker street, slipping only infrequently under the weak shower of light from buzzing street lamps. It’s too perfect, he almost wonders if he’s being led into some elaborate trap. In hindsight, it would have been smart to keep track of the street names, but he’s just a little clumsy tonight.

He must practically be stepping on her heels when she finally tenses and flips around, eyes already wide, a misty gray in the dark gradient of the night. So wide. This might be the only instance where he’ll remember the color of a victim’s eyes. She goes for her pocket knife, only, at most, the size of her hand outstretched. He goes for his own knife.

He didn’t think about the clean up that would follow, or about the time. Fuck, fuck, he wants to kick himself, get a good, solid punch in there that would make him stagger back. He has to hope the ring will fit you as he tries to screw it back and forth, inching it off her finger. In increasing desperation, he’s attempting to wrench it off, something crunching. If he waits too long, the joints will go rigid and he might then have to saw the digit off entirely, and it wouldn’t be too pleasant of a gift if the ring came with a knifed finger attached. He wished he would’ve just reverted to his high school ways of petty robbery, but his face is bare to the pungent, stinging night, no usual robes to conceal himself.

That’s not what the Ghostface does, anyways—theft at knifepoint. The papers would mischaracterize him after all the careful, deliberate consideration gone into his depiction, both on Ghostface’s and Danny’s parts; for Ghostface, the victims, chosen not irregularly on a whim (randomly, to any outsider) with no connections or immediately discernible motives. He loves to make them really think, so much of the threat is built in the wildly intense imagination of the public. The playfulness and the brazenness and how they intersect in shameless pictures, taunting notes and evidence left purposely. For the latter, nights of writing and rewriting paragraphs, descriptions, careful word choice to hammer in the threat that the next victim could be anyone, could be the reader. The Ghostface never has to kill, he wants to and does so without reason, that’s what makes him so unnerving, Danny thinks, scowling to himself. He finally twists the glimmering ring free from her limp finger, almost taking the skin with it as he digs his fingernails angrily beneath the band. He lets himself laugh once in triumph, a single, full exhale like he’d been struck in the sternum.

His work gets sloppy when he gets frustrated. He reminds himself of this as he turns the ring over in his palm, finally free. He thinks about your delighted face and his expression finally softens.

Danny massages his forehead and the lines that are certain to form there with all his grimacing and scowling. How late is it? He looks up to the darkening sky like the moon itself will reveal the time engraved onto its surface. This might be the first time he’s killed in plainclothes. He thinks he should remember something like that, but all the bodies, different as they were, mold together in his memory. Every face, the ones he can visualize, overlay each other. There won’t be a fancy dinner for the two of you tonight, but he’s decided this is much better.

He lifts his arm just to watch the blood on his hands travel down his wrist and then down his forearm, two thin, winding snakes.

He could risk rushing home and pray to every God from every doctrine that you’re not there yet, or wait out the night and return home late, praying, then, that you’re deep in sleep. It’s your anniversary, though—he imagines he could live with you believing he’s cheating on you over you finding out, but he must be going soft, because the image of you waiting all evening, alone, perking up at every noise outside at the possibility it’s him at the door, it makes him feel like someone has his guts in a fist. Plus, the Ghostafce is out and about, it’d be stupid to leave you on your lonesome.

You have no idea what he does for you.

He stands outside your house, streaked with browning stripes of blood, disheveled, empty-eyed, probably appearing like an intruder. He still has no idea what hour of night it is, but the lights in the house are off, and for once he is unsettled by the sight of it, a cold dread that spider webs under his skin, drastically unlike the flush of relief as he might trudge up the same pathway after a cruelly long day of work.

Finally he forces himself up the steps of the porch and snags his key from his pocket (and now there’s blood on it, too), essentially slamming it into the lock and twisting it open while he clutches his bloody shoes by the heels in the other hand. He careens inside, pulled along by the tilting weight of his own body, finding himself hoping that the neighbors assume him to just be deeply, profoundly drunk should they be watching at this time of night. He slams the door and the house shudders with it then moans in relief as it settles. Fuck, darling, I’m so sorry if I kept you waiting, I actually, really fought tooth and nail to get you this gift. Haha. Like it was the last one, some other guy had the same idea, Christ, we got in a scuffle and nearly got kicked out. Ah, my nose hurts, is it bleeding? I didn’t notice. He’s vomiting words in his head louder than the voice that berates himself for his carelessness (he might even be saying these things aloud, expecting you to be there, horrified). You’re not there. He should be unimaginably relieved, but his stomach only tightens and he can feel the burn of bile stirring at the bottom of his throat.

Danny can’t bring himself to turn on the light, to douse himself in sudden vision and see the red that he nonetheless feels wet on his chest. He’d never been too disturbed by the sight before, or even the tangy scent that seems so oppressively pungent now, but at the moment he just doesn’t want to think. He really does start to feel like an intruder. He shoves the door closed with his elbow (had he touched the knob with his hands when he opened it?) suddenly silencing the whisper of crickets humming behind him.

Finally his eyes fly to the clock on the oven, artificial red painting out the numbers 6:04. You get off at 6:30, and usually arrive home fourteen after. Fuck. This time he does kick, his target the gray loveseat in the living room. Carefully, he turns on the light with the back of his left hand, the one kindly less bloody.

In an instant he’s ripping a pan out from the kitchen cabinets and tossing in a cup or more of water, setting it to boil. The ring will go in there—for his poor work shoes, though, he’d just gotten them, and they’re genuine leather. They’re not fancy by any extent, but comfortable, and again, a pretty, toffee-colored leather. He throws them in a wash bin for now. He peels off his uncomfortably wet socks, stained from the night and damp from the lawn. Gross, whatever, he can make himself part with those. He tries to tell himself the same for his shirt as he rips down the buttons (he’s got a closet with nearly a dozen more indistinguishable dress shirts, bought in bulk from an acquaintance’s department store). Necessary sacrifice, his internal voice barks, ever cold.

His eyes never leave the clock, and then when they do, the harsh lines of the digital numbers are seared into his eyes like the blackened letters of a branding iron, and are just as blistering.

It’s 6:13, as he lets the ring soak in a bowl of steaming water, standing to the side, using a toothpick to carefully pick the blood out from under his fingernails. 6:14. The minute had gone by in the length of a second. There’s no candle in the world strong enough to mask the searing smell of bleach-based cleaning products, but he still steals one of yours to light. At 6:22 he nearly breaks down crying. Five minutes are spent glaring at his reflection, looking for traces of blood, staring so long and without blinking that he begins to see red where there is none. 6:30, he breaks down, but into disbelieving laughter.

It’s past seven when you do get off, bursting out of the tailors shop like a bird trapped indoors, tugging on your jacket and feeling for your keys as you jog around the building to the side parking lot, your car the only one left. The pulsing lights of neon shop lights are your personal holiday display, speckled and frosty as they’re reflected on the sidewalk glossy with rain. Your breaths are accentuated in white foam, dissolving quickly into the oppressive air of winter nighttime. You scan the parking lot to confirm it is as vacant as it looked upon first glance. You find yourself staring out into the darkness just outside the chain link fence enclosing the parking lot, picking up tens of silhouettes in the dark treelines.

You hurry into the driver's seat, key in the ignition immediately, no idling like you may have earlier this year. Danny has never been especially worried about the killer ever-present in the headlines, never a degree that seemed appropriate. You’d snapped at him once about a little joking comment and he’d been quick to protest that humor is how he tends to deal with tension, but you still worry he doesn’t take it all entirely seriously. You’ve been begging him for what must be a week by now to stop walking home. There’s only one car between the two of you, and you’re the one to end up with it most days; Danny’s work is closer to your shared home and in a more well-lit, populated part of town, in between an intersection of office buildings and cafes and sleek looking restaurants. Your job at the tailors is nearing the very outskirts of the town, where the roads broaden, much less busy as they wind through collections of strip malls and perpetually open gas stations. The walk back home, on foot, would be half an hour with few witnesses, so therefore you end up with car privileges most shifts.

The car rattles to life. You go to turn the knob for the headlights, watching out the front windshield, imagining he’ll be there in the beams of light when they blink awake.

You and Danny both have knives. A variety. He jokes he’ll never need to use his, but brings one whenever leaving the house, as is the same for you (in addition to the pepper spray he’s persistent you keep on your person). Your hand crawls towards your jacket pocket, feeling the concealed shape of it to confirm its presence. The Ghostface isn’t standing opposite of you when the headlights do power to life, but you don’t waste any more time before you reel out of your parking spot and onto the main road.

The drive home doesn’t seem to happen at all, glides by mechanically until you’re stepping out of the car and onto pavement and staring at your own house. You blink, eyes all smudgy from viewing stop lights from a foggy windshield. It only really takes the walk up to the door to reawaken all your muscles and remind yourself you're alive, thankfully, pushing open the door just as you realize the doorknob is slightly dewy, and unlocked.

The warmth of your kitchen is unearthly, or heavenly is the right word. You smell something heavy and hearty, intersected by the less pleasant stench of an assemblage of cleaning products (a smell so progressively common in your household your only hope is you’ll become used to it).

Danny appears from the hallway, or had been standing there already, and smiles tiredly. Poor thing. You can only imagine he’s worked himself to the bone, maybe with you on his mind. He always tells you how you’re his driving motivation, that he has to remind himself of you when work is additionally cruel.

You’ve yet to say a word to each other, something not entirely necessary; his arms are around you already, drawing you in tight.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you huff, but he shakes his head quite intently.

“No worries, not a single one,” he replies honestly, finally pulling away to meet you face to face. You had presumed he was going to heckle you a good deal for being late, just given the tension around the city and recent crime, but it never comes up. He only rubs the sides of your arms with a twitching smile.

Danny steps back fully, but still guides you, ringing you in from the entryway over to the kitchen.

“No fancy dinner, like we agreed,” he starts, obviously alluding to something that has you a little worried—not unpleasantly, really, but a tight feeling in your side that is likely guilt. He’s the sort of guy to say he won’t get you anything but go ahead and do so anyways; a part of you knew you weren’t gonna shake that from him this year, but with money a concern, you had hoped he would swallow his pride and resist.

“I got you something else, though,” Danny continues, smiling more genuinely, nearly relieved. He retrieves a brown satin pouch from the dinner table, something only the length of his palm.

He instructs you to extend your arm out so he can place the pouch in your hands, and now that almost wince of a smile is genuine.

“I really work so hard for you,” he laughs, but cuts himself off quite suddenly. Something like shame twists at his expression. “I don’t want you to feel guilty, though, no—I’ve just been saving up for a little something.”

The smile is wider, now with teeth.

“Jed,” you say, low. He shakes his head, dismissing you before you can object.

“I really do love you.”

It’s genuine when he says this, but also not his fault that you always react perfectly. He really is so fantastic as a director, and you as the set piece.

Dinner might have to wait.

#ghostface x you #ghostface x reader #dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dbd imagine #danny johnson x reader #x reader #reader insert

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