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okchijt · 6 months

Note

Hi! I'd like to request the legion aka frank yandere alphabet please! thank you 😘

Author's Note: The Halloween event is making me play even more unhealthy amounts of DBD so you know I just gotta do my boy Frank! I'm super excited for this one, especially since it's a yandere and an alphabet and this guy doesn't get much of either so I'm more than happy to provide! Definitely took some inspo from @yanderes-galore for this one so you must check them out if you're a lover of yandere content cause that's where you get the best kind of it! So do it NOW! And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you, and enjoy!❤

Possible Trigger Warnings: Some minimal NSFW that is only mostly mentioned a few times with no explicit detail.

Frank Morrison -> Yandere Alphabet

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Frank is a possessive individual, he makes sure you and everyone around him knows it. The same can be said with the way he shows his affection for you. At the end of the day, Frank is still human and even though he feels the need to fool himself and the others around him that he's a cold-hearted killer, he still craves your human touch. That being said he's not sweet or gentle with his affections for you, when he feels threatened, feels the need to remind you of your place or it's just a matter of his human desires he does possess a strong hold on you. Frank likes to hold you by the waist or put his arm around your shoulder, both methods effectively trapping you in place of no escape as he holds you with a deathly grip. Frank doesn't aim to provide you with physical love but to scare you with it into submission. But at the same time he'd rather die than admit that sometimes he just seeks to have you held against him out of pure desire, because, in the end, it does feel nice to be reminded of that human feeling.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Incredibly messy. He's a killer that thinks of himself as hot shit and will make sure to show that just by the way he murders your teammates. Outside of the realm he only has one kill count and that was enough for him to consider himself the best killer out there. It makes his blood boil to see your fellow teammates touch you and spend time with you when it should be him and he'll make sure they'll fear his wrath. Frank doesn't mind being covered in other's blood, he even sees it as some sort of trophy to be prideful about because he was the one that made them bleed. Escpesicailly if the person stood in their way to get to you, Frank will make sure they will have a painful end that he'll later proudly and mockingly tell you about as if expecting some sort of prize from the effort he went through just to have you with him alone.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Kind of yeah. He finds mocking you entertaining in a way, he likes to make you feel powerless against him, boosting his ego in the process. He likes to get you when you're at your lowest so he can guide you through mocking and insults to come fully undone for him, vulnerable enough for you to feel too weak to fight against him as he forces his so-called love on you. Though most of the time Frank would only do it if he's in a bad mood himself because a match went poorly or you're just being "uncooperative" with his affections for you.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Absolutely he would. He forces his affection on you and sometimes forces you to reciprocate with threats of various kinds. At the end of the day, Frank is still a teen whose hormones still go off for him, and even though killing satisfies that side of him most of the time, he can't help himself when he's around you sometimes. He'd never outwardly go that far with you if you don't want to, he doesn't want to ruin all of his chances of you eventually falling for him for whatever reason. But do expect some nonconsensual touching here and there, like I said, he'd never go that far with you if you don't allow it, but he's not that good of a soul to limit himself that much for you.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He'd never do that. Frank doesn’t want to be seen as weak or vulnerable to you, himself, his crew, or anyone else around him. He has a "reputation" to uphold after all and even though his insecurities get to him most of the time, he'd rather die than let you even witness or hear any of it. Not even as pretend to make you feel sympathy for him, the thought of being this exposed to you on whatever scale disgusts him and he will never resolve to it to trick you into having you. Not for your good, but for his.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Amused, but annoyed. Doesn't matter how much of a capable survivor you are, the Entity will make sure Frank will have an upper hand compared to you in the physical department. He likes the way you try to wiggle free against him or just you trying to fight back in general, he finds it funny because he knows no matter what you do there is no escape from him. Though Frank will get progressively more annoyed the longer you keep going, especially if there are flashlights/firecrackers involved. And because of that at some point, it stops being an entertaining game of cat and mouse and instead a serious threat of finally catching you with no escape.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Kinda, but only when he's 100% sure he'll catch you at the end of the trail or just in general. When things go Frank's way during trials, he'll take his sweet time getting you. He'll pretend to have not seen you hide inside that locker or let you wiggle off him and get away as he pretends he didn't see where you went. Instead, all his attention goes to your teammates as he focuses on taking them out, leaving you for dessert. It's just so amusing to him to see you try so hard knowing that he'll get you by the end and have his fun with you before either killing you or letting you go. On the other hand, if Frank gets absolutely destroyed during the trial his anger will blind him to only focusing on not letting you escape. At this point he has tunnel vision solely on you and will ignore everything else, just wanting to make sure to get you at the end as he lets all your teammates run past him to escape through the gate as he pins you down and prepares to let out all his frustrations on you before either taking mocking pity on you and letting you go or just outright killing you.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Being sacrificed the first time and all the other times depending on his mood it can get more brutal than it should. All the while he may just mock you for your existence alone and the things you make him feel as he murders you mercilessly for daring to fight back against him and not just submit. As well as mentioned before some nonconsensual touching, Frank will only stop the minute he knows he's not going to hold back if he lets himself go any further.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

There really isn't a future to think of when you're stuck in the Enity's realm, there is no personal purpose, growth or change you can make. So all Frank needs is what's already in front of him, you and the thrills you both provide each other whether you want to or not. But if Frank could wish for something to change in the future is for you to finally submit to him fully.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Extremely. He gets so jealous over your teammates being able to spend every waking moment of their pathetic existence with you instead of him. Just for that, he makes sure that if you're in a trial all of your teammates suffer twice as much. He wants to make sure they feel the jealousy and rage they make him put up with because of the privilege of them having you 24/7 and not him. Sometimes Frank gets more into it than he should and throws what's left of his jealousy onto you, accusing you of probably fooling around behind his back with your stupid teammates. Whether that is true or not Frank proceeds to give you mixed signals during his outburst as he continues to accuse you of being disloyal as he puts his arms around you as an act of affection. Lavishing in your touch as he reminds you and himself with his actions who you belong to as he spews venom at you through his gritted teeth.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Like he's better than you and you're his prey that he took pity on. You should be thankful he loves so just accept your role in this ''relationship'' and submit. Frank treats you as if you are inferior to him, but at the same time, he thinks you're so much better than everyone else. Frank not only tries to manipulate you but himself as well. He wants to make you feel powerless when with him, he likes to put you down, making him feel better for having does feelings for you. Frank hates that he feels such strong feelings for you, how can someone such as himself feel so drawn to a stupid survivor of all people? The only way he can excuse such feelings is by pity, a mocking kind. But deep down he knows it's not it, it's genuine from his end, but he will never admit to it to anyone especially not himself. So instead he hides behind the fact he's the hunter and you're the prey and abuses it so that the truth will never come out.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Through a trial of course. Doesn't matter if it's your first trial or one of the many ones you've had before, you've officially captured his attention. Whether it was because of the lovely reactions you gave him or the way you stuck with your team and had their back, doesn't matter, Frank is hooked from here on out and he can't wait to play with you some more when you meet again next trial. Approaching you though? Easy, just kill everyone so there's only you two left, that's plenty of time to begin a relationship and get to know each other, don't you think?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Just a bit, yes. Frank's just as cruel to you as he is to everyone else and he thinks he's better than you, but he does have that soft spot only for you at times. Sometimes he does genuinely want to show his affection for you, with no cruelty added to it. As much of a sadistic jerk he is, Frank does sometimes just want to spend time with you like lovers do, it's rare but it does happen especially when he's in a good mood. Otherwise don't expect much love and care 90% of the time that is purely genuine.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Depending on what you do, the more painful the punishment. If you misbehave or disobey him in more ways than one, expect to be cut in various ways both shallow and deep depending on how far you push it. But the worst you can get is straight-up murder, but in the realm that's nothing new, so Frank makes sure to make your deaths more painful than they should. He makes them last longer, makes them more gruesome and he does all of this while making sure to keep you alive the whole time so you can feel the utmost pain. All of this is to make sure you remember to stay in line next time.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

As if you have any once you enter the Entity's realm. Frank takes anything he can get from you. He's too selfish to allow you to be with other people, especially the ones he views as under him, which is everyone but himself. Whenever you're forced to be in his presence, he will give you no free will. Frank takes away your decision-making and takes charge of anything of yours he can get, no matter how little the extent of it is.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Only when he's alone with you. At the beginning of the trial, there is no patience in him if things don't go his way. Frank will make sure to get through the trial as fast as possible, eliminating everyone until it's just you two left. His kills are sloppy and quick, wasting no time in finally getting you all to himself. When it eventually gets to that point he takes his sweet time with you, toying with you as you receive his unwanted affections. Wanting to draw out as much time as he can get with you, at that point he's just happy to have you all to himself again so he's patient from that point onward.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

None of these possibilities will ever come true in the Entity's realm. There are no buts or ifs, you are stuck in here with him forever. Therefore there would never be a scenario where Frank would have to deal with the fact you're not here with him anymore because that day will never come.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Why would he? Frank has no sympathy left in him at this point, not even his soft spot for you will change the way he feels nothing but pleasure in having you all to himself. So the answer is an ultimate no for both.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

A mix of curiosity and his background. It's curiosity that leads Frank to commit his first murder as well as enter the realm. He's never been a good person before the realm as well. What made Frank this infatuated with you though? The answer is even a mystery to him.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Depends on the severity of your outburst and how long it lasts. If it's small or it doesn't last long then he'll find the situation amusing by teasing you. He basically doesn't take you seriously and will mockingly "try" to calm you down, effectively making the situation worse by making fun of you because he thinks it's cute to see you this vulnerable. But once you get even more upset, making the outburst an actual outburst Frank begins to get annoyed and even kind of panic. At that point, it's less funny to him and his mocking turns into actual insults with hints of actual concern that aim to fully calm you down. The longer you go on the more aggressive Frank is with his words and may even start being physical with you just to make you stop. Depending on how you react he will force you to get a hold of yourself or he just leaves you be for some hours so you both can calm down.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Frank's more than willing to hurt you. Both because it's just the reality you two live in now and it's essentially his "job" to hunt you down and make you weak before him both mentally and physically.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Maybe manipulation? Just mentioning that his crew must think less of him because he's actively seeking you out, that he's so obsessed with you. Just anything that could indicate him being weak or vulnerable makes his blood boil, mainly because he knows it's true. No matter how Frank views himself, there is a part of him that hates himself and you for making him so soft to the point where his crew can see it. But would it be enough to escape? No. You can point out the obvious to him and that'll only make him let out his frustrations on you or his crew if they dare say a word about it.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Absolutely. It's Frank's "job" so it's basically a given you'll either get slashed a few times before he lets you go or just moris you instead.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

The only person Frank will worship is himself. Admittedly you're the most important person to him outside of himself and his crew but he still views himself above you so there is no need for worship. There is no need to win you over, you have no choice after all. Frank will court you however he likes and you can hate it and him as much as you want but you'll have no choice but to just deal with it.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A few trials at most. Frank needed to be 100% sure about you and his feelings for you before he became outright open with them. He needed to get to know you a little bit better before officially making you his, and by that I mean Frank relishing in the sweet reactions and screams you gave him. And maybe just the way you went about when you didn't know he was there and the way you worked with your team.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

The fact you're in a forced relationship with a killer that hurts/kills you and your teammates on the regular will definitely do more damage to you than if he was just a killer with no relations to you. That being said Frank wouldn't want to break you on purpose, he likes you the way you are because you haven't completely lost it yet and you satisfy his sadistic and obsessive needs. So ideally Frank wouldn't want to break you knowingly, but there would be a bigger possibility that he would indeed break you at some point.

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krypticcafe · 10 months

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any chance for dbd killers (especially myers) reacting to a partner who wants to take the relationship real slow? how would they take it? would they push, or be respectful? patience? bonus for cuddle time 💜✨

DBD killers w/a partner who wants to take it slow

rating: teen

character(s): GN!Reader, Shape/Michael Myers, Ghostface/Danny "Jed" Olsen, The Executioner/Pyramid Head, The Cannibal/Bubba Sawyer, Legion/Frank Morrison

warning(s): suggestive themes, canon-typical violence and behavior, language

a/n: pardon the unannounced hiatus, cue the usual fanfic writer life drama, gonna be dusting off the request box :]

Michael

Thank. GOD. He's not gonna say it, but Michael's beyond relieved because he's just not comfortable jumping into things, or anything at all. He likes consistency, not change, so he really needs the time to even just adjust to the fact that he's actually letting this relationship happen (no offense). Even the first time he let you live, he felt all irritated about it because it just felt wrong. But after he saw you leave med packs for him from time to time, lurk behind him while he was off chasing others, he started to grow a little more lenient towards you, much to your pleasure.

After you see the approval in his eyes, you're relieved, too. It's not that you thought Michael wouldn't take the suggestion well, it's that it was the first time you two were seriously discussing your relationship. Neither of you put a label on yourselves, you just both knew that you liked each other a little more than you did with other people. Kind of like a silent agreement.

But now you take confidence in knowing you can be as slow as you want with him, after all, you both have all of eternity to work it out, or at least until the Entity decides to do something about it. Though seeing as they haven't stopped you so far, you're probably fine for now.

It's a long time until you guys show any actual physical affection. The closest it's been is Michael getting revenge on people who use you as bait and grabbing your wrist to pull you to a safe spot while you help clean his gear during visits in between matches and lean on him or he holds you in his lap while sitting in comfortable silence (you've caught him falling asleep on a few occasions).

Expect it to take a while more if you guys actually want to get intimate, he's just too much of a 'business first' guy.

All in all, mission success.

Danny

"Like how slow?"

You should've expected this. While Michael is relieved, Danny, well, he doesn't take it as well. He's one of the clingiest of all the killers and makes it difficult not to be paranoid all the time of someone finding out. He's a hands-on type of guy and this... is kind of torture for him.

After some insistence and some pleading on your side, he'll give in, but it's not guaranteed. He has to resist his urges like some little kid trying not to open Christmas presents a day early. All day, every day, he's just thinking about smothering you in his touch, and it gets him frustrated (in both ways), so he has to take it out somehow.

You can literally see it in real-time when he's cutting through survivors like butter, not even bothering to act playful or make quips, just snarling and hissing at them like a feral cat. You make a mental note to give him a bit of something after the match, like a kiss or some cuddle time.

Other than that, he whines. A lot. Like it's so fucking annoying please make him shut up with a kiss or something, the killers can't stand hearing him bitch incoherently and you can only take so much of it as well. Also, he's a manipulative ass to expect him to be pushy and try to pressure you here and there.

It's kinda funny though, in a way you sorta conditioned him to feel even more euphoric when you do anything romantic with him. He's asking, no, begging for extra kisses, holding you real tight when you cuddle, and you swear you can feel him melting under your touch. Heart eyes and all, he's so obsessed with you.

Whenever you let him know you're ready to move things forward, expect him to be a little overexcited about it. Like if you finally let him get in your pants, he's gonna work you like there's no tomorrow, all that pent-up energy is flooding out the door.

I'm sorry, but you're literally caging an animal by asking *the* Ghostface to take it slow. He's only gonna get more hungry over time.

Pyra

Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think he cares. Like he's fine taking it as slow as you want, it's not a huge deal to him, and really, he has no room for judgment outside of killing people. You'll ask and he'll respond with the usual metallic grunt and boom. Problem solved.

In all honesty, it's probably good to take it slow with him if you want a nice, loving relationship with him. Because of his lack of experience, fast-paced relationships might just be too much for him to deal with, but taking your time lets him process how it even works. Dates, kissing, and anything beyond that aren't in his area of expertise, nor did he ever expect it to be, it's not his primary purpose.

This allows him to welcome something new in his life for once beyond the mundane life of Silent Hill and the matches in the realm of the Entity. He's not used to actually having personal priorities, so the adjustment period progresses along with your relationship. He's quick to find out that he really likes physical contact with you, too.

Most likely you'll be taking the initiative with him, teaching him the little things you like to do like cuddling and holding each other close. He really likes that, being able to just envelope you and keep you safe and close in such a comfortable manner.

I don't he exactly has a concept of... 'horny', it's more of a hunger I guess? A hunger to be close and in your presence, so he kinda has times when he'll stick to your side like a big old scary guard dog. If you wanna indulge him a little, go ahead.

Yeah, I can't really say much for him other than it is what it is.

Bubba

He tries his best to be patient, he really does. Bubba's more than understanding about it, because he's already elated that you love him back in the first place! Though sometimes he just really wants to pepper your face in kisses and smother you in love, pick you up and swing you around in his arms, take you to some of the nicer parts of the Entity's realm, he almost forgets they all live in some sick game.

Horrible advice, but try not to be so... cute around him. I like to think he has cuteness aggression, so it's very hard to keep his hands to himself when you look so... so... nope, no, Bubba, focus, you're supposed to be chasing Ace right now- oooo but don't wanna just eat them up and make them yours!

He wants to do so much with you but it's kind of for the best to keep him from rushing into things. Even he's a little worried that he'll tire you out from his eagerness to get things moving. Hell, he even spooked himself when he found himself daydreaming about marrying you mid-match. He can't help it though, it's the southern love in him that gets him all antsy (he thinks you'd look very nice in a suit or dress if you're wondering).

Yeah, and don't think you don't know either, not when he's humming "Here Comes the Bride" while sawing up Kate in halves in front of you.

Oh, and you thought the wedding fever was bad? Wait until the baby fever kicks up. Since day one of falling in love with you, this man has been dreaming of church bells, vows, cribs, pacifiers, and all that. He's never told you it in full detail but you just know he does. Whether you want it for your relationship or not, he still loves you nonetheless.

Despite it all, you help remind him to appreciate what's in the moment, that you both have an eternity together in damnation to get to that point. So long as time and the Entity are on your side, he's more than happy to take things slow with you and he'll be sure to enjoy every moment you have together.

Frank

"You're joking, right?"

No surprise here either, Frank doesn't take it all too well. He's an impatient bastard and mostly thinks with his dick more than his head sometimes. To be honest, he never even anticipated getting into a relationship with you. He thought most of the survivors were annoying and unlikable in their own ways, he even found you irritating at some point just not as much as the others, or so he'd claim.

You try to explain to him why and unfortunately, it does result in a back and forth between you two, the other members of Legion even chiming in on your defense. It's until you point into his face that you both literally have forever in this endless hell so "what's the big deal about us taking our time" and for him to just think about it for a bit.

And yeah he does, but it takes a while for Frank to wrap his head around it. He's used to just getting what he wants, jumping into things headfirst, and figuring out the details from there. His whole philosophy defies normalcy, defies everything he hates about Ormond and the banal, suburban society it is. He lives for the rush, the excitement, the recklessness. Time and care in a relationship remind him too much of a "normal life".

But the others remind him there's nothing normal about where they are now. Hell, they get to wreak havoc and chaos in the trials, it's everything they dreamed of. Making a statement for themselves. And frankly (no pun intended), he likes you a little too much to let it go. So instead of rushing himself into things, he finds a new thrill in testing the limits. He teases you with lingering touches and suggestive remarks, leaves you wanting, craving just a little more of that.

He clicks his tongue, "I thought we were taking it slow?"

That little bitch. He's got you wrapped around his finger and you know it. But don't think you're the only one aching, no. Call him a sadomasochist because it's practically killing him too, how much he has to hold back. Yet it's such a rush, keeping his hands to himself and itching for the day when you let him do whatever. He. Wants.

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rootsofdread · 4 months

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Hey there! I just found out your blog and im loving it!

I was wondering if you could do a headcannon of all members of The Legion x Reader (fluffly and romantic), where the reader, shy and oblivious, is new to the fog and mistakes the members for survivors. Maybe they get suprised and "adopt" the reader as the new member.

thank you so much!!! 🫶🫶

Frank Morrison, Julie Kostenko, Susie Lavoie, and Joey / The Legion:

The four of them were standing around chatting when you approached them out of the blue. Frank noticed you first, and even through his mask, you and the other members could tell he was confused. He wasn't sure why a survivor -- much less one none of them recognized -- would just come up to them.

You quietly explained you didn't know where you were and they are the first people you've seen that don't seem to want to kill you, and can one of them please show you around? You watched them all exchange looks with one another and whisper. You worried for a moment that maybe you'd offended them somehow, but Susie reached over, took your hand, and pulled you into their circle, Julie and Frank promised to show you around.

After this, they always seemed to seek you out. Sometimes it even seemed like they'd sent one member out to go find you and bring you to the group so you could all hang out. It made you feel important, having a group of people that wanted to help you fit in here, spending your nights talking and laughing together.

At least one of them always accompanies you while you're walking around. Frank tends to use the time to give you advice with his arm around your shoulder, Joey seems to like playing "bodyguard," walking ahead of you and stiff-arming anyone who tries to give you a hard time. Julie comes across as just enjoying spending time with you, she's usually quiet, but likes sticking by your side, and Susie just loves having someone to hold hands and gossip or swap stories with.

You grew much closer with them over time, spending nearly every moment outside of trials with them, chatting, joking around, cuddling up to each other. So it wasn't much of a surprise when all four of them said they wanted to talk to you about something...and presented you with your very own personalized mask. Now, it would be official, and everyone would be able to know -- you were one of theirs.

#inbox #gender neutral reader #survivor reader #frank morrison #julie kostenko #susie lavoie #dbd joey #dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dbd x you #frank morrison x reader #julie kostenko x you #susie lavoie x reader #dbd joey x reader #the legion x reader

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writer-freak · 7 months

Text

Cuddling with them | Gn reader

Characters: Frank (Legion), Herman (Doctor) and Evan (Trapper)

Warnings: None just fluff and some cuddling, english isn't my first language

A/n: Another draft which I never completly finished but I hope you guys still enjoy

Thanks to my luv @natihot for always encouraging me to post

Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated and really motivate me to write more 🖤

Frank Morrison/The Legion:

Frank might be the most hesitant at first, he really isn't that used to affection

So the first time you both cuddled was probably after a very hard trial where Frank got punished and he was just feeling terrible when he came to you

You're both sitting on the couch in his dimly lit room, you already waiting for him

When he sits down he lets out a quiet sigh and notices just how he wants to be closer to you

He didn't really know how to initiate it so he just put an arm around you pulling you a bit closer

Frank doesn't say much, but his grip tightens as he buries his face in your hair

The adrenaline from the trial still courses through his veins, but your presence begins to calm him down.

You are the one who ends up getting even closer to him so that you both are as close as possible

Eventually, you both fall asleep in each other's arms, the exhaustion of the trials finally catching up to both of you.

Herman Carter/The Doctor:

Herman's cuddling style is a bit different from most

After a day of torturous experiments and madness inducing shocks, he craves some sort of human connection.

You find him in his office, surrounded by his equipment, his exhaustion is evident, but so is his need for closeness.

Without a word, you sit down next to him, and he looks at you with a mixture of curiosity and longing.

Herman doesn't hold you in a traditional way instead, he rests his head on your shoulder, seeking the comfort of your presence.

He starts to relax, the tension from the day slowly melting away as you stroke his head.

You know how he is in the trials but outside of them he really is just like any other person who craves affection

Evan MacMillan/The Trapper:

Evan is a man of few words, and he's not one to show vulnerability easily.

After a day of grueling trials, he just needs some place where he can actually let his guard down even if it's just a little

You find him sitting in his shed, taking care of his wounds and cleaning his weapons.

When he sees you standing at the entrance he just nods to you as a silent invitation

He doesn't say much as you sit down next to him but he extends an arm, and you scoot closer, leaning into him

His embrace always makes you feel protected and just having you close to him helps him forget everything that happened even if it's just for a short time

His embrace is firm but oddly reassuring you can feel the tension in his body slowly dissipating as he closes his eyes.

Divider from: saradika

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osakisz · 1 year

Text

when you try to kiss them on their cheek as a distraction | spirit, mastermind, legion (frank).

who needs deception, red herring or diversion as a distraction, what about a smooch instead. — this one's quite shorter than my other drafts that will probably never see the light of the day ever again. just want to put something silly out for my favorite killers <3 was gonna add our golden boys trickster and ghostface but i ran out of ideas :(( i might include them the next time i make a part 2 to this.

content: lowercase intended, partially not proofread, gender neutral reader, ambiguous as to whether or not the reader is dating the killers, spirit — dwight cameo | mastermind — basically ranting how i don't know how to navigate rpd | legion — elodie cameo, frank is a stinky tunneler.

RIN YAMAOKA | THE SPIRIT

desperate times call for desperate measures. poor dwight is on his death hook and he cannot waste any more time for his team to do their objectives. the vicinity is naked of resources for him to utilize, and you don't have a flashlight in your hands to prevent him from getting picked up.

you didn't really leave much time into brainstorming your next move, as soon after, you've heard a loud scream just near you.

and of course it had to be dwight, if only you weren't so finicky with using pallets in the area, he would've last longer.

dwight and rin are out in the open, which could've been such a free blind, but you've got something else in your mind.

swooping just as rin's had dwight on her shoulder, you jumped and cupped her face, kissing her cheek, all in a rapid second.

rin's confused and stands with dwight on her shoulders. why... would you do that? doesn't know if she should be shocked or just go through with her spree while her cheeks are heating up.

dwight's just as confused as rin, he can't see anything but the dirty ground, what's going on? why is the spirit making confused noises?

you backed up afterwards and tugged your arms together behind your back, reminiscent of a child feigning to be innocent when they are being scolded.

your plan didn't work out as you planned it to be, as rin was recovering from the stunt you pulled. but she was bamboozled enough for dwight to wiggle out, in his merry way to a tile with no resources, again.

mission failed succesfully.

ALBERT WESKER | THE MASTERMIND

you're fighting for your life not to get on death hook. but lady luck didn't seem to be on your side the very moment all of you were sent to rpd.

not only do some of the corridors & rooms are barely lit, it was extremely difficult to navigate the area. where do these stairs lead to? where do these hallways lead to? why did i just came back from where i've been last time?

attempting to find refuge, you look for the rest of your teammates, but that's the problem, you can't find any of them. although it was an ideal situation for everyone to be split up and doing their own generators, that wasn't really the time for that, you need to survive as much as possible.

when you turn around a corner, you didn't expect wesker to be standing by the edge of the room, as if he knew you'd come by.

wesker chuckles, prepping the tentacle in his hand, "i've got you where i wanted..."

you have no time to take in what just happened and what is about to happen, but you refuse to not get out of your situation.

in pure panic, you shoved your open hands in front of his face, "wait! wait! wait!"

surprisingly enough, wesker is intrigued of your stalling technique, so lowers his tentacles and hears you out.

there's a suffocating tension and silence between the both of you when you just stare at each other. when you've gotten uncomfortable of the current situation you're in, you swiftly press your lips against his cheek and ran as far away as you can. it's not the best last resort manuever one can think of, but it's the only one you can think of during the moment.

wesker touches the cheek that you kissed with his gloved hand, smirking to himself. he intentionally lets you get away with it, giving you a feign hope of surviving. he'll give you time to indulge in your wishful thinking of surviving the trial before he spooks you again.

FRANK MORRISON | THE LEGION

the only killer you'd genuinely get away with something so silly.

you're trying your best to protect elodie, who has been constantly tunneled the entire game. seeing as there's one generator left, and frank is struggling to pressure the team, he might as well target a survivor and get them out of the trial before the last generator pops.

everyone, including you, is injured, thanks to frank's insane capability of injuring almost everyone swiftly.

you've been sticking with elodie after she got off from her second hook, since you nor the rest of your team has not been hooked yet, you figured you can perform a little risky and even trade hooks with elodie in any case she might be in danger.

but of course, there's little chance that your plan will work. you hear frank approaching while you're patching up elodie in the shack, so you halted the healing and gestured elodie to carefully run away from the shack. "i'll be right behind you", you encouragingly whispered to her.

when you follow right after elodie, the first thing you've noticed was that frank had already seen the both of you, yet still goes for elodie.

you rapidly stood in front of elodie with your arms raised up in attempt to guard her. she can't risk leaving the area lest she gets hit. "w—w—wait! may i interest in something, frank?", you ask the man in front of you.

he brushes off your question for a while, shoving you out of the way. "hm... sure, why not. but i'll deal with her first".

time is ticking. your go to should be to stand face to face with frank yet again, but he can easily shove you aside like previously. suddenly, as if a lightbulb has lit up above you, you attempt to execute a plan that took barely a second to figure put.

elodie runs for her life, seeing as you're too far away to help her. frank was quick to follow, confident enough to get her out of the trial and can finally manage to pressure your team. but frank's brain stops when he feels a hand grab his arm, immediately forcing him to stand still and look at you. unintentionally so, you look like you're pleading him not to kill your team, with your brows furrowed and tears welling up in your eyes, both are the results from the injury he has inflicted on you minutes ago.

frank thinks it's cute but it's not enough for him to take pity on neither you or your friends, if that was the message you were trying to convey.

he was almost out of your grip until you harshly lower his head down by tugging aggressively at his arm, placing a peck in his mask where his cheeks would lay beneath.

shortly after, the both of you look at each other in silence. your brows are still furrowed but your lips are pursed as a straight line. from the inside, frank is exploding with how adorable you look right now. he audibly stutters from embarrassed he is, but luckily it was muffled so you can't decipher what noises he's making.

elodie is long gone in the vicinity, luckily for all of you. but now you have to deal with the problem at hand, how are you going to escape the killer's grasp now? but you suppose you can endure one hook stage, considering elodie was the only one hooked throughout the trial.

you come back to your senses and entirely lose your grip in frank's arm and ran as far away as you possibly can without disturbing your team. you don't know if you're lucky or unlucky that frank hurriedly runs after you, but one thing's for sure, you hope he's after for more kisses.

luvenary on tumblr — please do not repost.

#✷ ... original works #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight x gender neutral reader #the spirit x reader #rin yamaoka x reader #the mastermind x reader #albert wesker x reader #the legion x reader #frank morrison x reader #this is so silly i know #but i kinda like it :))

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l0sercat · 1 year

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Hey! So a bit of a weird request, and if your uncomfortable you can ignore this! But I had this idea of what would happen if a new blind survivor appears (I thought this up in the middle of the night and thought it be a terrifying situation.) How would ghostface, and frank if your ok adding him, would treat this survivor and if anything would develop towards them? Especially since they take awhile to accustom to the constant changing trials and where to locate generators, adapting to different killers, etc

Okk soo you didn't specify how blind so I'm just gonna make reader to where everything is really blurry and their eyes can hardly detect light.

Ghostface and Frank react to survivor who's blind

Ghostface

He see's a new survivor and is immediately intrigued

When he stalks you he see's that your having a hard time moving around

You bump into things and fall over

Constantly putting your hands in front of you swiping the air

He's confused at first then it clicks that you could be blind

He giggles and is even more interested in you now

He sneaks up behind you and grabs you by the waist

When you jump in surprise he laughs hard

"Woah hey! Calm down let me help you, I'm going to bring you to your fellow survivors so they can explain and help you"

He would explain to you but he doesn't want a headache

He keeps ad eye out for you

Even if you now realize he's a killer he still helps you out here and there, even if you don't want it and try to run away

I think feelings could possibly develop but at the early stages it's just him being intrigued by your disability

Frank

He frenzy's your way and when he sees you try to run but stumble over and bush and fall he can't help but laugh

He's very confused but finds it extremely hilarious

You get up but then stumble and trip over every little thing

He is dumbfounded

How are you so clumsy

But after a couple of trials with you he realizes that your blind

He feels a little bad

So he avoids using his frenzy on you

He also sometimes may give you hatch

He gives you a bit of an advantage

He may have caught feelings

Don't tell Julie though

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tiredmako · 1 year

Note

Hi! I was wondering could we get either a Frank Morrison or Ghostface x reader story where they’re in a relationship and they find out either Frank/Danny got injected with Blights serum.

Reader is then worried about him and rushes to try help him recover from the serums pain? And maybe the other killers seeing that being shocked that a survivor is caring for a killer. If that makes sense and isn’t too much!

Thank you 🤍

⭒kisses for my killer ~ frank morrison⭒

woahhhh sorry this took like forever to right... my play that im in is coming up and ive been pretty busy with that, but tech week is next week so ill be extra busy then but after im free for like!!! ever but anyways 2nd tumblr fic! woohoo ALSO! i had to do a ton of research on blight lore but it was super confusing but i promise i tried my best.... sorry if shes not perfect ;( also not proofread

the woods surrounding the survivor's campfire were dark and lonely. it was an ideal place for some sort of horrible crime- a child to get snatched up, a murder, or in this case, a betrayal.

whenever y/n wandered into the woods in hopes of ending up in ormond, they had a heavy pit in their stomach. if they were caught by another survivor- or worse, ended up in the wrong realm, they were done for. other survivors were already beginning to get suspicious about why they were sneaking out so much, and the lie of 'looking for offerings' was beginning to fail as they often came back with little to show for their long disappearance. if the other survivors found out why they were gone for so long, y/n would never live through another trial. y/n would forever have to keep their dirty little secret. no, not that secret. not the 'i left you on hook because i couldn't get to you in time' while in reality they were just too scared type of secret. a secret dirtier then that.

frank morrison. y/n being romantically involved with frank morrison was their dirtiest secret. a survivor and a killer. somebody who would spend eternity killing, and somebody who would be a victim to it all. not exactly the best pairing.

despite the... not so good circumstances, they still found their ways to love each other in secret. whether it be frank giving them the hatch or y/n helping him recover from a frenzy, they knew that no matter how small their action was it meant worlds to the other. such as in their last trial- they were with susie. after she'd massacred y/n's friends, she allowed them to hop into the hatch without a scratch on their skin. y/n knew for a fact that frank had something to do with this, which is why they'd decided to risk visiting ormond to say thank you. what they didn't expect, was to see frank before they'd even wandered out of the gloomy woods.

"frank?!" they yelped as he stumbled towards them. his mask was long gone, and a panicked look was etched onto his face."are you okay? what happened?" he was limping and tripping over his own feet- clearly not in the best shape. he practically collapsed on top of them, y/n doing their best to hold him up.

"that stupid.." frank coughed violently as y/n began to slowly rub his back. "the fucking freak. blight. he tried to..." he leaned into them, gasping for breath. "experiment on me, or something." he'd ran away from the blight as fast as he could, but obviously had some disadvantages.

"what was it?"

"i don't know!" frank snapped, hugging them tightly. "fuck." he breathed out heavily. "i... sorry."

"no, frank, i'm so sorry..." they murmured, squeezing him tightly. "i don't know what to say, god that's so horrible." they gently rocked him. "you don't have to worry, though. he's not here, he can't hurt you. where were julie, susie, and joey?"

"they were in their own trials!" he gripped onto the back of their shirt tightly, allowing y/n to sit them both on the ground. his body was draped over theirs as they peppered kisses along his cheek and neck in an attempt to comfort him.

"well, he's not here anymore, okay? he can't touch you, i won't let him. i'll... beat him up, or something."

"you? you'll beat him up?" frank snickered, slowly beginning to calm down in their arms.

"or something like that." they rested their chin on his shoulder as he relaxed against them. "either way, you don't have to worry about him. you have a little team of people who'll keep you safe, yeah?"

"yeah, guess i do." frank paused, thinking for a minute. he squeezed them a bit tighter as he quietly spoke- his voice nearly silent. barely above a whisper. "i love you."

y/n smiled. "i love you more, frank."

off in the distance, joey, susie, and julie were watching in surprise. they knew from frank that him and y/n were in some sort of relationship, but the last thing the three of them expected was for y/n to be this... sweet on him. frank was a ruthless killer, yet here he was being cuddled and cooed at by a survivor. it was shocking to say the least, but in a sweet way. seeing that two victims of the entity were able to still find a light in the entity's realm filled the other three with some sort of... hope.

a hope for something better.

like + reblog for kisses <3

#frank morrison x reader #dbd x reader #legion x reader #dead by daylight x reader #the legion x reader #dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #frank morrison #the legion #legion #legion dbd #frank morrison dbd #x reader #gender neautral reader #gender neutral #fanfic

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smol-dragon · 3 months

Text

Frank Morrison x Reader (One-shot) Words: 385 Warnings: Possessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, implied kidnapping

yeah idk where this was going i was just typing stuff in between matches.

In his eyes, you two had everything.

You could see him whenever, never had to worry about the weight of the world ever again now that you were in the Fog- so why weren't you happy? Why did you talk about missing Ormond? He hated the vile feelings that would bubble in his chest whenever you got wistful, spoke so fondly of a place that did nothing but churn out battered and broken people. How could you not love this place like him? Like the others? It was heaven, a personal playground where they could do whatever they wanted whenever they pleased.

Sure, being on the 'killed' side of things wasn't the most ideal, but he at least tried to equal it out by sparing you, that had to count for something! It was almost like showing up to this place changed you, changed you for the worst.

You didn't echo his sentiments nearly as much, talked about showing empathy to people who didn't give a rats ass about him one way or another.

"I just want things to go back to the way they were, with you."

It had stung, hearing the person that claimed to love him not appreciate him in his rawest form, but at the same time you were never overly keen on his lifestyle. Would this have happened had the two of you not been swept up into the Entity's realm? Would you have betrayed him just the same?

Maybe you would've. And maybe, in that timeline, he would've cut ties with you and carried on, forgotten you even. But this wasn't then and he wasn't that person, couldn't be.

You had made a place for yourself in his heart, a place that dug into his very soul and sapped him of life; a muse for his art. He might've been fucked up, but as he approached the bonfire all too familiar to him, he knew he couldn't let you go. Even if your feelings were beginning to wane, he knew spending time with him and the rest of the Legion in the mockery of Ormond would change that, it had to.

He couldn't, wouldn't lose you, even if it meant stealing you all for himself when the trials didn't take you.

He would have you, one way or another.

#frank morrison x reader #the legion x reader #dead by daylight imagines #frank morrison imagines #the legion imagines #dbd #dead by daylight #frank morrison #the legion #dead by daylight x reader #gender neutral

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phonkscribes · 1 year

Text

Dead Last.

You live by a code most would abandon in these circumstances, where death isn’t an escape and a nameless goddess hungers. It’s a rare trait to find amongst people, especially those that have died time and time again. When the gates are powered and you’re abandoned by your peers, you don’t think that anyone would notice. Let alone the people that put you in that spot.

Assorted killers reacting to an abandoned reader.

Legion / Frank Morrison

Legion is as thick as nails, nothing can get between them, even if things got rough. That much was true on that night in the store when they took turns killing that janitor. He’s disappointed to see that your ‘team’ won’t extend a hand to save one of their own like how the Legion would to him. Ace runs out the door, not even looking back as you lay on the cold floor of Ormond.

“I bet that hurts real bad”, he teases, putting a foot on your back to keep you from struggling.

He wants to hear what you’ll say in response, to see how you’ll beg or plead for your life. You’re whimpering, crying— he can see the steam rise from your cheeks. The pain he’s talking about isn’t physical, but you’re trying your best to hold it in. In some ways, he could feel for you, in others he could not. That’s just how things are around here. You stick your neck out for someone and then it gets you killed.

“That’s what happens when you try and play hero, dumbass”, he grabs you, hoisting you up and over his shoulder.

He has a quota to meet, a number to fill so that bitch in the sky doesn’t give him or any of his friends shit later. He doesn’t feel bad for putting you on the hook, watching as the claws sink into your sides as you die. Although he does feel… something. The next trial that you see him he doesn’t bother you so much, choosing to hit you while he’s in his frenzy before leaving to find the bigger fish. If Ace happens to be with you, he’s sure to tunnel him out.

It’s his way of being nice, hoping you don’t catch on when he does this one thing.

The Ghostface / Danny Johnson

You’d been running with Yun-Jin towards the gates as the timer ticked down. She’d been right at your side until she hadn’t. As you went to look over your shoulder he was right there. The ribbons on his hood billowed as he cut through the night, breaking his shroud as he tore into your side. You’d been exposed and you didn’t even notice, nor did the producer bother to tell you. As Danny wipes his blade he looks down at you pitifully, tutting I’m disappointment as your fellow survivor left you for dead.

“You should’ve seen your face”, he taunts, chuckling as you try and recover, “But that was fun”

You sit there, gasping for air as he squats down to pat your shoulder, which has a hook shaped hole through it. You cry out from the pain, but he coos, as if there was an adorable puppy before him and not your sweaty, bleeding body.

“Isn’t that tough?”, he picks you up and starts walking.

You’re sure you’re dead, not bothering to struggle as you sniffle. It tugs at his heartstrings, it really does. You’re lucky he thinks you’re so cute! Otherwise, he’d have killed you a lot sooner, which he probably should’ve done to that bitch Yun-Jin! He walks along, straining his ears as you try and not to cry at your defeat. The hatch is near as the two of you pick up on the sound of the angelic singing. The Ghostface sets you down just in front of it.

“Since I’m feeling generous… just this once, I’ll let you go”, hope starts to seep through that look of despair etched onto your features. It stirs something within him.

You start to crawl, pulling yourself forward as he thinks about shutting it in your face. How would you look if he stole away your only means of escape? Danny wants to see what that’d look like, the terror reinstalled in your eyes as you inch closer and closer.

“Th- Thank you..”, you tell him, looking up into the eyes of the mask.

Ah… next time. Definitely next time.

Hillbilly / Max Thompson Jr.

He’d caught you by the shack, using his saw to cut through your middle as Dwight had made the mistake of throwing the pallet down to block your path. It was a mistake, he’d heard the saw and reacted when he saw the red stain. The look of regret is as plain as day as he runs, pain struck across his face as he leaves you behind. Max didn’t think much of survivors, but he could understand better than anyone what it felt like to be caught and punished rather than betrayed. He watched Fairfield leave as your blood spilled all across the wooden floorboards. The sounds of your panicked, frustrated breaths mixing with his labored growls filled the air.

So that’s it eh?

He looks down at you, waiting to see how you might react, if you’d yell or cry out. With the leader gone, it was just you left. If he put you on the hook, you’d die, as simple as that. He moves, stepping over your body to break the pallet. The wood splinters as it falls, collecting besides you as he goes to pick you up. It’s not uncommon, he’s seen it happen before a thousand times but it’s always so… he doesn’t know the words to place it. You didn’t deserve that, he reasons. Max carries you off to the gate where he saw the scratch marks fade off to.

He’s says something, tries to at least, but is unable to. It comes out as a small grunt, as he picks you up. You wonder why he’s being so nice. Usually he’s so intent on getting people off the farm and into the next match. You pat his back, a quiet thank you as he gently drops you off on the floor. He doesn’t say anything, just watches, revving up his chainsaw to carry him off to go close the hatch if he can find it.

He thinks you’re cool, like a hero from one of his shows. You’re too kind to kill, too brave, too good. He’d have felt better about doing it if you were a scum bag.

Pig / Amanda Young

You tried your best to keep everyone alive, but no amount of heals or pallets can prevent the inevitable. It’s not that they didn’t try. All of you try, fighting to stay alive in the face of cruelty, but alas. The reverse bear traps didn’t find them to be agreeable. Either your friends fell victim to the saw trap or to the blade of Miss Amanda Young. You’re the only one who managed to get the trap off in time, so by Amanda’a standards, you’ve earned your life. That didn’t stop you from trying to save your friends from their graves.

At the end, she meets you in her workshop, eyeing you curiously. There was no favoritism, no second chances aside from the one you got. They all had every opportunity to survive and failed. Watching you now, she feels a shred of sympathy. A few years ago, she was the same just like you, eyes wide and afraid of dying. You’ve earned your life, proven by the lack of a trap on your head. She beckons you to follow her, as she already knows a way out.

“Don’t think too hard about it”, she says, noting your apprehension to follow her like a good survivor.

She’s indifferent for the most part, with the slightest hint of being proud of you. You may not be disciple worthy, but you held quite a bit of promise in her eyes. Should you ever turn to the dark side, she’d love to mentor you. You jump through the hatch as she waves goodbye, silent as she studies the expression on your face as you depart.

Shape / Michael Myers

You were the obsession this trial, and as much as he would’ve loved to kill you just then and there, he knew it’d serve him better to let you go. There were so many times where he could’ve just offed you had he felt like it. Though evil personified had other plans, such as dealing with the gnats flying around you. They really were just flies, swarming you when they needed help, when their wounds couldn’t be staunched caused by his knife. Picking them off one by one wasn’t hard, with how quickly he was able to catch up to them as they worked hard to complete their tasks. He reveled in the way that you watched their bodies hit the floor. You were next.

You were next and there was nothing you could do to stop it. As the last survivor, he was more than eager to track you down, playing the same game he played with his little sister. He stalked you through the halls of his childhood home, you sprinted up the stairs and towards the window, but he was faster. The shape was content with the way your throat fit in his hand when he held you up and pinned you to the wall. You slammed back quite nicely, your grunt of pain being drowned out by a scream.

The wet squelch of your guts wet his hand, your blood dripping down from the hilt and making the handle sticky. He didn’t mind, didn’t seem to care as he watched you with interest. Your death seemed to fascinate him almost as he pushed it deeper into your struggling body. He set you down when you were done, finally done with this trial. Somehow… he liked it. The way you squirmed, how you didn’t quite accept it as it was happening. He’ll be sure to save you for last the next time he sees you.

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qtipcottonbuds · 2 years

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𝙒𝙀𝙏 𝙎𝘼𝙉𝘿, 𝙈𝙊𝙎𝙎-𝘽𝙊𝙍𝙉. [WITH LEGION]

so, here is the second version of the request, this time with legion, and you can find ghostface’s part here !! a little bit altered though, n i think dis couldve been better >:( @demonbitterbite

Submitted request - Can I request a dead by daylight reaction for Jake and Leon where the killer keeps chasing the reader and making suggestive comments. Then when killer has them on their shoulder they slap/hold the readers ass. For the request I’d like it with frank or ghost face if possible but I don’t really mind

warnings ;; flirting, explicit language possibly and embarrassment, possible descriptions of gore etc, and somewhat angst actually ??

by qtipcottonbuds 2022. do not repost.

𝗟𝗘𝗚𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥;

Slumped and half-submerged in marshland water with reeds scratching into his calves, the underneath of his fingernails caked with dirt; Leon gradually manages to leverage himself out of the open, instead settling amongst the overgrowth of stalks.

It wasn’t the most ideal of situations, to say the least. Luckily enough, he hadn’t been hooked yet.

As Claudette had managed to continually loop and weave around the Grim Pantry for the majority of the realm, aided by the use of tokens enhancing her speed, she was able to give chase. Allowing you and himself to sweep through a total of four generators, working in tandem, aside from when you’d been specifically isolated (whether from you being the potential obsession, Leon wasn’t sure) and hooked. Twice.

The one thing Leon had failed to pick up on, was the obliviousness you were all plagued with - the lack of a heartbeat inducing migraine - the one warning sign gifted by the Entity to allow you some intel on the situation, the whereabouts of the selected killer.

The bliss of ignorance felt more like a curse in disguise, compared to a blessing. And, for only so long, Claudette could give said chase - she’d finally been hooked.

Noticing the faint crunching of dead leaves and footsteps, Leon can only turn his head so much, watching from the corner of his eye to where you lay, your own hands fumbling for some sort of grip on a nearby pallet - to at least hide. But, the brightness of your chosen clothing is stark against thick overgrowth, standing out and it’s only a matter of time as the footsteps draw closer, bypassing his own body and towards your own.

Mask in one gloved hand, Leon can briefly catch sight of the Legion crouching down, swiping the other hand through the black sludge (that could be considered mud of some sort) and smearing the paste-like mixture across your forehead, and dragging the tip of his dirtied finger downwards your nose with a little ‘boop!’.

“Gotta say, babydoll, the view looks real nice from here,” the killer lets out a low whistle, eyeing your limp body, his gaze more clearly focused on your lower half, “gave me a run for my money, that’s for sure.”

Leon watches on as you try to shuffle forwards, face pinched in discomfort and unable to formulate a proper response, the bruising across your lower jaw and temple from the attack prior leaving you sluggish and disorientated.

(Why were you willingly welcoming the killer into your personal space? Just what was your relationship with him?)

Shit. Willing himself to remain quiet, breath hitching, Leon catches onto the recognizable glint of a maroon coloured token, swaying back and forth, tied to one of the belt hooks on the Legion’s worn jeans. Bracing himself for the inevitable, the all too familiar, unnerving squelches! of a victim being gutted brutally replaying in his head from experiences before, he angles his gaze away, just about to shut his eyes, and then-

The killer closes in once more, hand now instead cupping around your jaw, tilting it so tenderly (a word that felt foreign, so unnatural being associated with such a person), observing the damage, “I know. I know, babydoll. Not the time. Shit. Did a bit of a number on you, didn’t I? I hate this; doing this,” the last part is more of a murmur, bit out hotly, as you’re shifted upwards from your underarms, repositioned and elevated against the pallet.

“Fuh... Fuh-rank.”

“Don’t try to talk, yeah? M’gonna get you to the hatch; I just need you to sit and look pretty f’me for a few. Now, breathe in for me,” aside from the slight rustle of plants, and a few muffled whimpers, Leon, wide-eyed, stares blatantly at the scene.

Hauled over the Legion’s (Frank’s?) shoulder, the bone clearly digging into your stomach, the killer surveys the area, unaware, and paces towards a nearby shack, taking the medkit that was gripped in your hands, into his own.

Letting out a sigh of relief, or fatigue, aware that he was near enough to finishing up his body’s natural regeneration; Leon is reassured, weirdly enough, to know that you’re in safe hands, the way the killer had held you with such affection, it was more than enough of a confirmation.

Yet, questions could come later, for now, he needed to focus on rescuing Claudette - it was only a matter of time before she’d slip into the death hook.

#DBD #dead by daylight #dbd legion #dead by daylight legion #the legion #frank morrison #dbd x gender neutral reader #dbd x male reader #dbd x reader #dbd x female reader #legion x reader #legion x gender neutral reader #legion x female reader #legion x male reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral character #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral insert

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iamverynormalaboutocs · 1 year

Note

Hi, I saw that you were accepting requests for WoW and was wondering if I could please make a request? I'd love to see some headcanons for Anduin with a civilian s/o, maybe how he would confess as well and general affection :) Thank you in advance!

Anduin - The Loving King of Stormwind

Anduin Wrynn x Civilan S/O

Oh by the titans, he is so so sweet. There are some mild drawbacks though-

You better prepare to have a couple of eyes on you at ALL TIMES.

Despite yourself being quite simple and average, you had one little thing that made eyes draw to you. The KING of STORMWIND.

Other than the perpetual eyes that are locked on you, Anduin is very sweet to you, always praising you and encouraging you.

Will try his best to give good advice, and is actually quite good at it! He sometimes doesn't follow his own advice, though; even if it would be beneficial.

Confessing? Oh boy, you better prepare for the formalities. He CANNOT resist the urge to finally pamper you and treat you to some of the luxuries he has to offer.

Probably confesses on an evening dinner date to be honest, classy like that.

When it comes to actually confessing either during or nearing the end of the dinner, there are two outcomes:

The first; a formal and well-structured speech about how much he loves and admires you. How much he cares for you and wishes that you would be by his side.

The second; A simple yet loving and genuine confession, built up throughout subtle and not-so-subtle hints throughout the date.

(Bonus option: He confesses to you on a normal outing when you two end up being alone for a brief moment, trying his best to be formal about it whilst clearly holding in a messy and unorganized impulse declaration of love.)

Physical affection is rare, as you two can never seem to get a moment alone. There is either a guard or SI:7 agent watching you two; ensuring his safety. If there is a time where Anduin and his beloved s/o are alone, he will surely lock them in his warm and caring embrace. A king of hugging and nobody can convince me otherwise.

Verbal affection, as I said before, is quite common and sweet. Compliments, praise, and sweet small talk are what's ordinary to receive from him. Anduin genuinely cares about you, and will say that quite often, just with extra words.

He doesn't care if you are a civilian, you're still worthy of his love and affection. Why would any social ranking say otherwise? Anduin mainly cares about how people behave and their personality; not their ranking or wealth.

Sorry if this was short or out of character! Thanks for requesting! :D

#I did this pre-shadowlands and post-legion I hope thats ok #World of Warcraft writing #Anduin Wrynn x Reader #Anduin x Reader #Normal's warcraft tag #Normal's writing tag #also gender neutral reader i hope thats 👍

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rootsofdread · 1 year

Note

Some angst comfort idea now cuz we love to hurt our feelings 😔 Killer!Reader whose ability causes them a lot of pain but they have to use it to satisfy the Entity cuz otherwise a greater punishment waits for them

3 romantic (Leon, Ghostface and Jake) to 3 platonic (Amanda, Legion [again any or all how you prefer] and Sadako) ratio

This is the last one for now sorry if it's to much, take your time and know no matter what you'll write i will love it (⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ

this was a super cute one to do honestly 🥺

Leon S. Kennedy:

Leon used to see this as a free opportunity to run, but when he realized you were really in pain, when other killers couldn’t really feel pain…He was shocked. He started to wonder why the Entity would do something like this, give someone powers that hurt them. It was more twisted to him than anything else when he realized it.

He encourages you to use your powers against him. He hates that it hurts you, but he knows how scared you are of the Entity. He assures you he’ll be able to get away and you won’t have to hurt him more than that, you can move on to someone else after. He’s tough and he can take it.

He gets all up in arms when he hears other survivors poking fun at your abilities hurting you. He stands up for you when you aren’t around, saying you don’t deserve bullying on top of painful powers. He may not be the most intimidating guy, but he’s convinced a few other survivors to shut their mouths about it.

He goes easy on you during trials together. It just makes him feel better to not give you a hard time, makes him feel like he’s helping you somehow.

Jake Park:

Even though Jake was afraid of you for quite a while, always seeing you in pain slowly whittled him down. Seeing you flinch when you start using your powers, and nearly keel over when they run out. It was worrisome, even for someone as terrifying as you. He knew…This was something that definitely wasn’t normal. The pain, the fear. He hadn’t seen it before in other killers…

When he knows you better and is more comfortable, he’ll quietly tail you during trials, always hanging behind you to keep an eye out for you. He’s genuinely worried that you’ll end up passing out from pain one of these days.

He isn’t scared of you anymore, and will even run up or jump up to embrace you when your powers run out. He hates seeing you in so much pain like that, and wants to take it away from you. He knows he can’t, but he still tries.

He teaches you calming breathing exercises for when he’s not around to help you, to ease the pain yourself. If it helps you even the slightest bit…It gives him so much relief to know he’s helping you.

Danny Johnson / The Ghostface:

Danny is furious with the Entity for doing such a thing to you. It’s personal with him, because he knows the Entity likes him. And to continue threatening you after cursing you with such awful power, at that…He’s angry. It’s rare to see such intense emotion from him, but you see it every time he comes to you after a trial.

After your trials, he grabs you and holds you tightly. You can feel the rage in his grip, but it's comforting at the same time, knowing he's so angry on your behalf. You try to tell him it's not his problem, but he won't hear it. It is his problem.

He never wants to let you out of his sight, because he knows that if he keeps you close, it means you're not out there hurting yourself for the Entity's sick satisfaction.

He actually attempts to tell the Entity off, since he knows her more personally than some of the other killers. It doesn't ever really work, but it makes him feel a little better doing it for you. He hopes it helps you feel a little better, too.

Amanda Young / The Pig:

Like Danny, Amanda is pretty pissed off about it, too. You've done nothing wrong — at least, nothing that would warrant a punishment or threats like this. As a woman who doles out her own punishments, it makes her blood boil seeing an innocent caught up in it.

She's never…Quite sure what to do for you. She's not much of a hugger and comforting talks aren't really her forte. She tries for you, though. She holds your hand and tells you things will be alright, and that she’ll try to make everything better for you. Because making things better is her kind of thing.

She doesn’t know how she’ll make it better, though. But she will — she knows she will, for you. She’s always thinking of what she could do to make anything better for you. Usually it’s going out of her way to find and kill survivors that were previously in your trials, because she sees them as semi-responsible for what’s happening to you.

Ultimately, even if she's not the best at comforting, she wants you to know she's always there for you, and she'll always do her best to help you and solve your problems.

Frank Morrison / The Legion:

Frank knows what it’s like, getting hurt by your powers. It’s a killer coming out of Feral Frenzy for every Legion member. Solidarity is the most valuable thing to him, being able to relate to his friends and knowing what they’re going through. So trust and believe, even if he didn’t know what you were going through, he’d damn well try.

He’s always willing to hold you if and when you need it. He normally isn’t much of a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he thinks something like this probably warrants it. He knows you feel bad enough already, there’s no sense in making you feel worse by denying you any comfort.

And he’s always willing to listen to you, too. He’ll listen to your venting about the powers you’ve been burdened with or your fears of the Entity. He may not really be able to do anything about it…But he can listen.

He tries to teach you ways to take your mind off of the pain, like he does. Focusing on the task at hand, or on something else that makes you happy. He knows it isn’t the best solution in the world, but he knows it’s better than doing nothing and suffering, too.

Sadako Yamamura / The Onryō:

Sadako is always concerned for you. She sees the pain on your face when you’re punishing the survivors, you’re her friend and…There’s something wrong with you, your powers hurt you. They shouldn’t do that. Her nensha powers don’t hurt her. It upsets her sometimes, to see you hurt like that, to see you afraid of what would happen if you don’t hurt yourself.

She hates that the Entity makes you hurt yourself to satisfy herself. She’s an angry little girl, and this doesn’t help. You have to stop her from lashing out at other killers sometimes, and make sure she calms down. She also hates making you worry about her — but she can’t help it. She feels things strongly. She knows you don’t deserve this.

She always wants hugs after one of your trials to make sure you’re okay. She knows she likes hugs when she’s upset or hurt, she figures you must too. It’d be difficult to convince her otherwise, it’s difficult enough to get her off of you as it is. Not that you mind, really, it’s just…This girl has a death grip. How much she loves you is obvious.

She protects you when she can, like taking your place in trials. She doesn’t want you to get hurt, and she’ll do whatever she can to help that. She may be small, but she's fiercely protective of you.

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writer-freak · 1 year

Text

Calling the killers Babygirl and/or submissive and breedable

Summary: just some headcanons of you calling some of the killer's Babygirl and/or submissive and breedable and their reaction (you and the killer aren't dating yet in this scenario)

Characters: All of the legion, Spirit, Ghostface, Trickster, Shape, Huntress

warnings: Gn reader,mentions of the reader getting killed and injured, bad writing and possible grammar mistakes

A/n: This idea was created at 2 am with my friends in a call so don't take this too seriously. I'm still trying to finish up some of my other drafts but I'm very slow with writing at the moment

Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated💙

The Legion Frank (Babygirl and submissive and breedable) He would be flustered at the start because survivors barely talk with the killers in a trial and they especially don't say stuff like that but it would quickly turn into him being pissed at you for making fun of him He's gonna tunnel you wasting all his time trying to catch you if you continue to call him babygirl you will have to accept the consequences

Joey (Babygirl and submissive and breedable) I think he can enjoy a little banter and he is way more level-headed than Frank so he isn't gonna exactly tunnel you but if you and another survivor are together he will first go after you It just doesn't bother him that much because he thinks that you are trying to provoke him

Julie (Babygirl and submissive and breedable) Next to Frank, she seems pretty calm but she is also a hothead and she will be going after you with even more power than usual and your whole team ends up having to suffer because of your little joke. Every time Julie used frenzy her attack was deeper than usual and you were her main target

Susie (Babygirl) A killer who will actually be a little flustered by what you are saying She would question if you are trying to flirt with her but then will also think that you are maybe trying to make fun of her It stuns her for a second but then she is right back on track leaving you for later and first dealing with the other survivors

Spirit (Babygirl) Another flustered killer, it is just really unexpected for her to be called baby in any form and at the girl part she basically already checked out You are then also confused because she stopped moving and you thought she was phasing but no she is just completely rooted to her spot unable to process what you said

Ghostface (submissive and breedable) He doesn't know the meme but he knows that you can't mean that seriously The man with a knife going after you, being submissive and breedable could only be a joke or you had a weird definition of these words Either way, you basically asked for death but he would have a good laugh about it before putting you on a hook

Trickster (Babygirl and submissive and breedable) He knows the memes and can take the joke In his idol career, he heard these words directed at him a few times from fans so he just thinks that you are another one of his fans and that means he has to put a special show on for you

Michael (Babygirl and submissive and breedable) No reaction that you could outwardly see and you thought that he didn't hear you or the comment just has no effect on him but you swear every time he was attacking you or putting you on a hook he was even rougher than normal and he would constantly go after you

Huntress (submissive and breedable) Did you just call her submissive, I think she would ignore the breedable part and solely focus on the word submissive and that would mean weakness Definitely is pissed at you and will kill you so quick you can't even look twice

Hopefully your day is great and take care of yourself💙

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mundoperla · 1 year

Note

Could I get hcs for a gn survivor that’s horrendously touch-starved, whenever they’re being carried to a hook, they completely relax in the killer’s grip and lean into them, because they’re brain just goes w a r m human contact fuck yeah- and they can’t help it sdvh

If you could include Frank from The Legion because..he’s my favourite, I find him hot- but aside from that, any killers you want to write hcs for! :D

EEEEE KICKING MY FEET IN THE AIR BC FRANK <3333

•

𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙩𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙤𝙧 .

⤹⋆｡˚ ｡˚۰ ۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⋆ ｡˚۰༄

killers x gender neutral reader

—killer(s) included;; frank morrison, ji-woon hak, kazan yamaoka, & caleb quinn WOOOOOO DEATHSLINGER PROPAGANDA

‼️tws;; none i could catch but if there is anything lmk!!!‼️

⤹⋆｡˚ ｡˚۰ ۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⋆ ｡˚۰༄

𝕱𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖐 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖔𝖓

.｡❅* you were being tossed up onto his shoulder to be brought to the nearest rusty hook like the last, you had yet to even be put on one so of course some kind of struggle or fight was expected.

.｡❅* but you weren’t moving, barley even a scream or kick from you. he couldn’t feel any kind of struggle, but he can feel you practically melting into him.

.｡❅* he did not.. understand.. you’ve gotta be broken or something.

.｡❅* he’d stopped in his tracks completely, wiggling you a bit with the arm that held you up to see if you’d respond with maybe an elbow to the side of his head, but you just sat there. completely still. you were just enveloped in his touch. sitting still and very peacefully.

.｡❅* Frank didn’t exactly know how to react or how to feel.. it’s wonderful having someone feel so comfortable being this close to him, but he was also expecting the usual response he got from others.

.｡❅* he’ll just stand there for a minute, letting you hang out for a while longer. he’ll feel guilty if he just tossed you onto a hook afterwards so he gently places you on the ground and leaves you there for one of your teammates to pick you up.

.｡❅* if you do it again in more trials with him he’s slowly going to start ignoring his initial objectives and just carry you around the map with him.

.｡❅* again he won’t admit he likes feeling this kind of contact with you, he’ll swear up and down that it’s just because he feels powerful when someone’s on his shoulder for long periods of time like some kind of prize catch.

.｡❅* regardless of whatever lame excuses he pulls to justify holding you so you, he makes it a mandatory task whenever he spots you in a trial, aswell as the occasional jingle of your body when you’re hoisted up just to see if you’ll ever retaliate.

.｡❅* you never do. he digs that.

•

𝕵𝖎-𝖂𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝕳𝖆𝖐—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗

.｡❅* like Frank, he’s expecting you to fight him to get out of his grasp like your life depended on it— which it does.

.｡❅* maybe if he hits someone on your team with you on him you’ll do something? maybe even beg for him to spare everyone else & to just kill you?

.｡❅* wrong. you’re still just sitting there.

.｡❅* Ji-Woon doesn’t mind to say the least, attention is attention & you’re practically melted into his shoulder just pleased to have this much contact with another person. it’s a win-win for the two of you.

.｡❅* The Trickster is very.. tricky to say the least, he loves having you pressed up on him when he’s picked you up after a chase, but at the same time he still internally wants you to fight back. bite him at least.

.｡❅* he will still throw you onto a hook after a minute or two of you being up with him. he’s still got others to get rid of.

.｡❅* then again he doesn’t want to do too much to make you avoid him, he still wants to feel you lean into his hands when he hold your face up or when he’s holding you sturdy on his shoulder. it’s actually very nice when he’s making some kind of physical contact with you.

.｡❅* he’ll be annoying you whenever he’s caught you though, he’s aware that you’re not gonna do anything to get away but instead revel in this brief moment of physical contact with him of all people.

.｡❅* ❝ Should I hold you in a more comfortable position this time 여보 ? just for now until i unfortunately have to put you away. ❞

.｡❅* like i said — he’s annoying.

•

𝕶𝖆𝖟𝖆𝖓 𝖄𝖆𝖒𝖆𝖔𝖐𝖆—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖓𝖎

.｡❅* he will not notice this at all until after maybe the 7th trial with you. he’s a ruthless and feared killer, but you never seemed to care when he would carry you to your inevitable fate.

.｡❅* you had decompressed entirely on him multiple times, and Kazan was pissed to say the least.

.｡❅* the ‘Oni Yamaoka’ was known far and wide for his brutality across the country, even tearing apart the very lord that spat the foul nickname at him and his family’s name. he was less than eligible for you to feel comfortable enough to mould around.

.｡❅* he had full intentions to harm you to get a point across, but Jake was quick to get you away from The Oni with his flashlight.

.｡❅* Kazan was even more angry, because now he had to get you back so he could jam it into your head that he is not to be taken so lightly. he looked for every opportunity to get you slung over his shoulders again but fumbled every time he got you where you were wanted.

.｡❅* but every time you wound up in his grasp, you’d lay there enveloped in his touch. the idea of being brought to a hook or even the basement was irrelevant in the moment. it felt amazing basically sitting in the palm of his hand.

.｡❅* it makes him angrier whenever you do this, he’s so comfortable being feared by every living being that surrounded him & he was not adjusting well to the idea of you not groveling in that same fear like the other survivors.

.｡❅* you occasionally entertained him by pretending to be scared when he had caught up with you, which also made him angry. he didn’t ACTUALLY want you to feel that way, he just wanted you to know how the other survivors perceived him. he’s contradicting himself trying to ignore the fact he really does enjoy you being close to him.

.｡❅* he’ll actively start refraining from picking you up unless he needs to, which despite this he will still constantly pick you up. you get the impression he actually enjoys the skin to skin contact much more than what he wants you to believe.

•

𝕮𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖇 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖓—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖘𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗

.｡❅* he’s oblivious to it all at first, he doesn’t get why you always seemingly chose to turn into mush when he makes contact with you.

.｡❅* but he’s very pleased by this to say the least, even taking the courtesy to find a secluded space to sit down with you peacefully. he’ll carry you over to an exit when they open up.

.｡❅* you’re aware of the damage he can cause, not just to others but to you specifically. he was dangerous just like the next killer you’d have to go up against.

.｡❅* but that felt so irrelevant when your abdomen made contact with the harsh material of his coat for the first time. your worries and fears faded in an instant. even with all his jagged edges, his touch managed felt like pure velvet.

.｡❅* Caleb could sit down in one of the secret rooms of the saloon with you forever if The Entity allowed him to, you’re obviously enjoying the time spent on him; he doesn��t want to yank that peace away from you so suddenly.

.｡❅* he ups it a notch, placing a hand on the nape of your neck — being met with another deep exhale from you. he didn’t think it was possible to witness a person genuinely melt until now.

.｡❅* he’s also melting against your touch, you buried your head into his chest and he wanted to keep you on that spot. he hasn’t felt this close to another person in a long time.

.｡❅* The Deathslinger could be gentle if he wanted to, always doing his best to limit as much movement when you’re up high on his shoulders as to not disturb you, even though you didn’t particularly mind him moving around.

.｡❅* if he see’s another open opportunity outside of a trial, he will offer to let you sit on his shoulders again. you seemed very peaceful the last time, so why not experience it again without the time limit?

•

⋆┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈⋆

please i beg of you give me more frank reqs he’s so fun to write for

#dbd x reader #dbd imagines #frank morrison x reader #the legion x reader #legion x reader #trickster x reader #the trickster x reader #ji woon hak x reader #kazan yamaoka x reader #the oni x reader #caleb quinn x reader

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l0sercat · 1 year

Note

hi! can I ask for The Legion reacting to meeting their female soulmate for the first time mid trial? tysm!

Legion meeting their soulmate mid trial

Frank

When he first was you he was a bit taken aback but shook it off

But when he went to dig his knife into you..

He couldn't

He paused and let you get away

He was left standing there trying to figure out why he couldn't kill you

Sure you are soulmates it was evident you both had the same mark on your face

But he had a job to do

Once outside of trials he watches you and he may approach you

Fuck Julie

Julie

She pauses

She didn't want to believe it

She was happy with Frank(it's a fucking trainwreck of a relationship)

She targets you and tries to get rid of you

She just can't handle this and wants you gone

If you find out that your soulmates with her and try to talk with her she'll deny it

She has a hard time accepting but once she does she'll be nicer and probably ditch Frank

Susie

She giggles and squeals

Jumps up and down and chases you

She traps you into a corner and rambles about being soulmates

She proves it by taking off her mask and showing her mark

She will never hurt you and once out of a trial she will cling to you

She also wants to show you off to the rest of the Legion

Joey

His eyes widen and he is in disbelief

He really has a soulmate?

He couldn't believe it

He grins and tries to talk to you

But when you run away he understands and sighs

He's the killer but he wants to know his soulmate

He tries to talk to you after trial and show his mark

If you listen and accept him he will be happy but if you don't he understands, soulmates don't mean anything and besides he's a killer

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yeyinde · 1 year

Text

IN DREAMS | Price x GN!Reader

Sweet dreams. Warm knuckles. The ghost of your lips pressing against his crown. He never tells you he doesn't sleep enough, but somehow you just know.

》 WARNINGS: 18+ – MATURE, SMUT | GN!Reader: no use of pronouns, gendered language or anatomy; very soft smut; soft John Price; established couple; gratuitous fluff (does this count as fluff????)

》 WORD COUNT: 4,6K

》 NOTES: Since there were no gender specifications, I kept everything as vague as possible for the descriptions of MC so this could (hopefully!) be easily read as Gen Neutral Reader, Fem Reader, Male Reader, or whatever you prefer. I did my best to exercise as much of the angst out of this as possible but still found myself having to slap my fingers from typing out legions of hurt. This is my BEST attempt at fluff. Sorry.

This is wholly dedicated to this anon!!! I hope you feel better! 🖤

Waking, he finds, is often easier than falling asleep.

It's a quick descent into cognisance, the dream he had—long forgotten, never remembered—fading into smoke in the back of his head. The popcorned wall of his ceiling takes its place. A water stain in the corner—coffee brown. A crack above his head. The hairline fracture is just a small river of black that cuts through off-white.

Falling asleep takes ages, aeons. Lying on his pillow for hours without feeling the talons of sleep dip into his temple.

Silence is consuming. Crushing. It makes the threads of his thoughts echo in the recess of his mind, bouncing off the walls until they bruise. It leaves its mark in the shape of burning eyes, restlessness.

Cureless insomnia.

It's easier with someone else. You.

Price isn't a man who needs much outside of a stiff drink or a rich cigar. Cures to an age-old conundrum in the form of vice—vices because Price was never a man who could just stop at one—but nothing batters the errant thoughts into quiet disinterest quite like you sleeping beside him.

The noises you make are loud enough to drown out the ghosts in his head. Soft snores, the rustle of sheets. Your arm draped over his broad chest keeps him locked to the mattress, forced to forego his usual nighttime ritual of rising after trying—and failing—to fall asleep after a few hours. You stop him when he'd normally pour himself another drink, light a cigar on the deck, and watch the ethereal gloom of midnight swell over this little part of Liverpool he calls home.

Keep him in check.

Though, sometimes, it doesn't work, and he lays awake all night staring at the damned ceiling while you curl up against his side, chasing lavender in your bare palm (a recurring dream, you tell him, and he tries to remember when he last slept long enough to truly have one. He comes up short each time.)

He rises before you, always. Doesn't have the heart to tell you he doesn't sleep. That he stares at the ageing canvass of the ceiling, mind stuck in an endless loop of inanities that are not worth losing sleep but still rake across his mind with a viciousness he knows won't go away until morning, when he wakes in a daze. A fog.

So, when you ask him how it was, running rheum from your eyes, he lies and says it was okay.

But he slept last night. Knows it because he dreamed.

Falling lavender. Knuckles warm, soft against his temple. A voice—susurrus, low; the sibilant echo of sweet dreams whispered against his ear.

Sweet dreams.

Sleep, as an insomniac, is always a double-edged sword. No matter how many hours he spends chasing REM, that fickle mistress, she always evades him in the end. Dancing just out of reach.

He wakes up feeling worse each time. Over-exhaustion. The paradoxical conundrum of being too tired to sleep.

He feels the same clutch of evanescent slumber tangles through his lashes, making his lids too heavy to open, but it's dulled. Lessened.

Price forces himself to keep his eyes open, staring at the blurry ceiling above. He wakes to this sight every morning. A familiar ritual. Three blinks. He watches the ceiling gradually grow clearer.

His hand threads across the sheets, and where he expects to find the warmth of your skin, he instead meets empty space. The sheets are already leaking the heat you left behind.

Price blinks, lashing clinging together from the sleep crystallising along the crease of his eyes. He has a headache needling behind his brow, a tension building from lack of sleep, and—

His tired eyes slide from the empty bed to the half-smoked cigar sitting in the ashtray. The empty glass of scotch beside it.

He's found a cure for woes in the form of a stiff drink—scotch, neat; and a side of spring water—and a perfectly rolled cigar. Vices, of course: the kind that rots his insides, and stains his teeth.

Cirrhosis. Emphysema. All the ugly little warnings on the back of a tobacco box.

But it numbs the ache in his bones, and the ghosts in his head, so he considers it an equivalent exchange.

(Just one that takes more than its fair share when he doesn't oblige by the rules.)

There is a respite from the steadily growing throb behind his left eye when he grinds the heel of his palm into his eyelids. A brief moment of fleeting pleasure. It rears when he pulls his hand away, letting them fall to the sheets.

Today feels a little off-kilter.

Without you grumbling about sleeping in beside him, peacefully chasing after lavender, and the same dream clotting behind his eyelids, he feels distinctly out of place.

His hand slides over to your spot, fingers curling around the cooling sheets. The blankets are tucked in around him.

Sweet dreams. Warm knuckles. The ghost of your lips pressing against his crown.

He never tells you he doesn't sleep enough, but somehow you just know.

You're not hard to find. He can hear the rattle of the old pipes as you shower; the hiss of the water hitting the title.

Lured in like a beacon, a siren's call, he follows the breadcrumbs that lead him to you.

Your silhouette is a dark line against the old curtain he keeps meaning to replace, but even the shadow of you seems to dampen the maligned feeling curling in his gut.

A sight, he thinks, for sore, tired eyes.

He rasps on the doorframe, announcing his presence. You scare easily, he finds, and he'd rather not get a bottle of your shampoo tossed at his head for the trouble.

The curtain peels back. You greet him through the cracks, blinking owlishly through the rivulets running down your forehead.

"Room for one more?"

A wide grin stretches across your face as you nod eagerly before disappearing behind the curtain once more. The spray of the shower swallows the echo of your laughter.

"Thought you were gonna sleep all day, old man," you call, loud and exaggerated. He watches your arms lift over your head, fingers threading over your scalp.

You think you're funny. Charming.

(He does, too—he'll never admit it, of course, but he laughs the hardest when it's just you and him; when the world around you fades into the background, and all he can hear is your effervescent giggles over the words you uttered, the jokes that always come after the punchline. The ones that fall flat, that miss.

It's funnier, you say. When it isn't supposed to be, you know?)

You wander through life with ease in your gait, a sense of peace in your mien like the world and everything in it is your best friend. Comfortable in your own skin, content with your lot in life. Happy, he thinks, just to be included. To be a part of it.

Happy to have him in it.

"Might have," he mutters, affection blooming in the gnarled remains of his heart.

You bring a sense of chaos to his life that feels like watching a nasty storm brew in the distance from the sanctity of his window. Laughter that sounds like a whip of lightning striking the pavement, close enough to smell the ozone, to have his neck prickle with danger, but far enough to feel safe. A voice that echoes like a thunderclap. Pelting hail. A torrential rainfall. A gale.

(All his life he was told to run from storms, but you make him want to chase the calamity brewing in the distance; to feel the hazard against his skin.)

"But I couldn't sleep without you snorin' in my ear."

"I do not—!"

Your words of indignation taper off into a yelp when he pulls the curtain back fully, letting the chill of the mid-spring morning drift over your slick skin. Goosebumps ripple across your trembling flesh—no longer a tantalising tease behind plastic (ohh, you cooed when you first saw the simple navy and blue striped curtain. Very predictable, cap; very you) but bared to his eager, hungry eyes.

He takes a moment to appreciate the sight that greets him, a low rumble spreading through his chest. "Well, don't you look cosy?"

"It's my day off," you whine, shivering when he draws out getting into the water behind you. "Let me pamper myself a little bit."

"Don't you get pampered enough?"

"Do I?"

His hands settle on your waist, nose bushing against the wet space between your ear. When he breathes in, the familiar scent of you floods his lungs. Warm milk. Honey sweet. A touch of loam, something bitter. The acrid tang of your sweat still clinging to your hairline. It reminds him of sex. Of your dewy skin when he has you pressed into the mattress, head burrowed into his neck, he fucks into the tight clutch of your willing body.

He stirs. Want smouldering low and heavy in his belly. You feel it when he presses tight against your back, but there's no rush. He feels no urgency to seek release. To get off. He just—

Wants.

Always, really. There is this distant buzz of desire that sits low in his belly whenever you're around. A constant simmer.

Wanting you, he finds, is the same as craving a draw of nicotine behind his teeth.

"Always," he rasps, nose running down the length of your neck. The warm spray of the shower rouses him from the last tendrils of sleep, clearing the congealed rheum around his lash line. "You always get pampered, love."

When you hum, he feels it reverberate through his chest. "You're slacking today then, John."

His hands slide from their perch against your hips, your quivering stomach. Soft skin, slick from the water, flutters under his touch. He dips his hand down to cup your sex in the palm of his hand, feeling the heat of you bleed into his skin.

"How do you want to be pampered then, love?"

You lean back against his chest, tucking yourself into the fold of his body where you fit like a mismatched puzzle piece, bent and cut until it slides in. The gaps between your bodies are filled with the steam that curls off the hot water pulsing down around you.

"Just—fuck, John—," you gasp when his thumb rubs soft circles over your sensitive skin, arching into his embrace. "Just—ah, just this—"

"Want me to wash you?" He presses his hips into the plush softness of your ass cheeks. "Or want me to get you off?"

His question makes you mewl, thighs spreading to fit more of his hand between them. "A–anything—both—"

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

"Fuck, John—"

Your petulant whine disintegrates into a soft hum when he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you tighter to his chest. His chin settles on the plinth of your shoulder, watching his fingers trail over your sateen flesh.

He's content to just feel you. The keen in your naked chest when his thumb brushes over a spot that makes you melt. The harsh pants; soft, languid little noises slipping through your wet lips—uh, uh, uh—interwoven with the hymn of his name. The shudders that wrack through your body when he presses the fat length of him against the plush seat of your ass. Your hips cant, rocking into his hold, as you greedily seek your release.

Your fingers curl around his thick wrist, thumb and forefinger barely able to lock in the middle, and it's the sight of you wholly in his grasp that ignites a childish sense of glee in his chest.

He's never been a particularly possessive man.

The transient lifestyle he led, the one he'd been primed for since he was young, and everyone around him just expected that he'd follow in his father's, his grandfather's footsteps, doesn't allow such luxury.

And he'd never been the type of man to take it. To want it, to pursue it. He was content with the ephemeral romance that came and went, a flickering flame that bloomed bright before eventually burning out. It was easier.

Lonelier, too.

You had been unexpected—a squall.

Your presence has ripped through his life like a violent tornado, leaving everything turned upside down in your wake.

You left him wanting.

It always seemed silly to run toward the thing that could kill you, but when you grinned at him—the recession of water before a tsunami hit—he finally understood why some people chase danger their whole lives.

He thought he'd have to adjust, to make room for you when there is no more space left.

But storms don't squeeze to fit.

They rip through.

He supposes, then, that there's no need to worry about making room when there are no walls left standing.

"Give you whatever you want, love," the words are a broken snarl in his throat, bleeding with the tangled remnants of his filthy desire; an aching sense of possession, and hunger. "Anythin' you want. Anythin'. Jus'—"

The empty bed flashes behind his eyes. Your side, now cold to the touch; the heat already fading out from the sheets. Whispered promises in the sleep-stained curl of his hair.

"Jus' stay—," the mangled plea is a faulty firecracker in his throat.

His arms tighten around you. Possession, he finds, is a silly thing. Ownership. Covetousness. All of it means substantially little to him when the only home he'd ever known is a duffle bag packed full of clothes he'd never wear.

And then he comes home to you. The space is saturated with your scent. Little markings around the flat that remind him of your presence. That scream out into the desolate stagnancy of a place that was always covered in a fine sheet of dust, and cobwebs, that you were here. Are here.

The fridge is stocked. The cupboards are full.

His bed slept in. Calendar marked with dates that mean something to you—meetings, negotiations, birthdays of people who matter in your life.

Scented candles run out the stench of disuse.

The days when your worlds don't overlap, and he comes home to an empty flat in a city he thinks he loves, he's never felt emptier.

It's harder to sleep those nights, too.

The whisper of an empty bed haunts him, echoes isolation and loneliness each time he reaches out and can't feel the warmth of your skin.

"Greedy," you mock, words a breathy mewl that are quickly swallowed by the hiss of the shower. Your fingers tighten around his wrist, clinging to him as he works you through the gentle waves of pleasure, slowly letting you drift toward the precipice of your release.

It's when the other reaches up behind you to thread through his damp locks, nails scratching across his temple, that he finds himself a little lost under the swell of you. Swept away by your breakneck pace.

Possession, he thinks, and finds himself drawn to the way your fingers curl around him. How you hold him tight, keeping him locked against you as you take. Syphon your pleasure from the feel of him against your skin.

Hard, wanting, he barely thinks of himself when he grinds his pelvis into your ass, cock slipping between the globes of your cheeks. Too enraptured by the way you fit in the palm of his hand (in his head, his bed, his house, his life—) to worry about anything else.

"Tha's it," he slurs the word into your neck, the scratch of his beard catching the droplets that run down the smooth column of your throat. "Jus' like that, love."

You writhe against his hand, strangled noises slipping from between the parted seam of your mouth. It's when his name falls, bitten in half when you snap your teeth together, lips curled, does he realise he's not even kissed you yet.

His hand slides to cup your jaw, craning your neck until your chin rests on your shoulder. He meets you with a kiss, and can't stop the groan that rumbles out when he feels the weight of your lips on his.

"You're extra touchy today," you breathe into his open mouth, words curling around his teeth. He tastes you when he swallows, and it soothes the burn in his joints; the ones that ache for nicotine. "What's got you in such a mood?"

"A mood?" He volleys, thumb rubbing the skin of your cheekbone, keeping you locked against him. He isn't ready to forfeit the taste of you, the feel of your lips moulding against his. "What kind'a mood do you think I'm in?"

"You're—," you gasp so prettily when he touches you in tandem with his peppered kisses; back arching in a way that makes him throb. "—clingy," you pant, breath warm and sweet when it ghosts over his tongue. "Needy."

You have this way of pulling truths out of him. Like you know how to crack his skull open, and rifle around inside until you find what you're looking for. A remarkable ability to galvanise his whims into words.

Price doesn't even try to bite them back when they slip out, syphoned into the air from your pull. A black hole. A vacuum. You consume.

(And he lets you.)

"Wakin' up," he starts, words trailing off when you buck, clumsily, into his palm.

He devours you, then, swallowing down each moan and grunt you make as he brings you close to the edge, desperately wanting to see you fall. Break apart in his hold.

"Tha's it, love." He murmurs, trailing open-mouthed kisses across the smooth column of your throat. His matted beard grazes your sensitive skin until you shiver, whimpering from the coarseness of it juxtaposed to the soft kisses, and teases of his teeth in small nips he plants over your slick flesh. "Come on—wanna see you cum for me."

It doesn't take much to bring you to the brink. Years of learning your body, of decoding the little places and tricks that make you howl for him, have given him the insight into how to work you to completion. He uses them all, a softer, muted descent up that wobbling precipice, and knows when your toes are dipping over the edge when your nails bite into his skin, and your hips buck into his palm.

You're a pretty little thing when your eyes snap shut, mouth dropping open as you dive down the vertiginous slope and into the maddening clutch of nirvana.

His pretty little thing.

He cups you in the palm of his hand, a fluttering little bird beating against his lifeline, and wonders if he can entice you to crawl back in bed with him, nestled tight under the covers while he spends the whole day worshipping every inch of precious flesh.

Might be able to, he thinks, when you go lax in his hold, chest shuddering with the shocks of pleasure the tips of his fingers bring.

"God, John—" you whine when he keeps it up,

stroking your sensitive, throbbing flesh until your knees threaten to give in. "Stop—I can't—"

You could. He knows your body by now. Knows he could get you off again and again until you were a weeping mess tangled in sex-soaked sheets, begging him for reprieve. He nudges against your mettle each time, rapacious to see how far he can push you until you're overstimulated, and barely conscious.

Greedy. Always.

His hunger for you is never satiated. No matter how many times he buries himself inside of you, it's never enough. A ceaseless wanting deep in his gnarled chest to have, to consume. Something in the polluted pit of what was once the heart of a man who didn't think he'd succumb to greed, to gluttony, now wants to devour you whole. Ingurgitate you into his marrow, into the rotted remains of his still-beating heart where you'll stay, safe and sound, forever.

His fingers itch, even now, to delve deep into your being. And so, he does.

Tries to, really. But there's a surprising dearth of strength hidden in your body, and he lets you go without a sound when you push against his wandering, hungry hands.

You twist in his hold, knees buckling as you try to slide down for him, but he stops you.

"No, love," he rasps, the words ungluing reluctantly from his throat. "Later. Jus' wanna take care'a you for a moment, mm?"

His arm winds around your waist, pulling you taut against him. His cock is trapped between your bodies, leaking prespend over your quivering stomach. Price thinks he could get off like this. Staring at you like this—eyes lidded, cresting in the aftershocks of your bliss; gazing up at him through heated skin, warmed from the molten spray of the shower pelting across your body; lips blistered and bruised from his kisses, and the abrasive scrape of his beard over your flesh—he doesn't think it'll take much to get him there, but he finds he likes the delay a little more than usual today.

Likes the lazy way you lean into him, fingers threading through the damp, matted hair on his chest before sliding your palms down to where he aches. His cock juts up between your soft belly, and trembling thighs—fleshed vermillion, and swollen. Your fingers dance across his weeping slit, catching the thick pre-spend gathering there. The feel of your flesh on him—hot, and softened from the water—sends tendrils of pleasure coiling through his loins.

He won't last. Not when you rest your chin against his sternum, staring up at him as you languidly work your hand over the head of his cock. Eyes heavy, drunk with the slow ebb of your bliss.

You paint a pretty picture. One he finds he could stare at all day—every day—if you'd let him.

Mauldin spools in his eyes. He knows this by the way your hands spasm around him, eyes catching the frisson that flickers across his face, mirrored in your liquid gaze.

"What were you saying earlier?" You murmur, pressing a kiss to his slick chest. "Waking up—?"

You're teasing him, of course. The impish twitch to your lips gives you away.

"Wakin' up alone—," he grumbles, hips canting into your grip. "Guess it made me miss you some."

The impact of the words on you is breathtaking. The sudden bashful dip of your chin, the flutter of your lashes as you drink in his words—it's a sight that tucks away in the fibrils of his heart, kept safe for later when he's all alone in his bed, or off in some corner of the world with bullets raining down on him.

(You don't have to worry much about bullets, you always quip, the barb in your voice, the teasing nonchalance, dulled by the quiver in your joints. You've fallen out of a helicopter more than you've been shot at.

He's never felt more drawn to you than when you're struggling through the fear gnarling in your eyes to joke about the many ways he'll die just to bring him some iota of comfort.)

His release bubbles quicker than he'd expected, aided when you press a soft, gentle kiss to his thundering heart. A wild storm on the horizon, one that leaves no wall left standing. You break him into pieces without even so much as a murmur.

Price falls apart in your hands, and he thinks, then, about the promise in his dream.

I'll catch them all for you, he'd said when you pointed to the whirling lavender petals falling down around you, eyes light with wonder. All of them. Jus' promise me you'll stay—

Your knuckles against his temple. The sun dawning in the curve of your smile. You breathe and he tastes wildflowers on his tongue.

Stay? You echo, teeth flashing. But—

"I'd never leave you, John."

He shudders in your grasp, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you close, slanting his mouth over yours in a clumsy, searing kiss.

Your name is drenched in benediction when he spills himself all over you, words a hushed gospel over the altar of your tongue.

You pull away from him, eyes gazing toward the field of yellow sprawled around the hazel boscage.

When he looks up, he finds thunderclouds on the horizon. A looming storm.

"It's gonna rain," you murmur.

He rumbles. "Doesn't it always?"

"Only when you're around."

He catches a petal in his palm. That shape of it reminds him of the curve of your smile. He tucks it in his breast pocket for safekeeping.

"Best keep me around for a while, then, mm, love?"

The sound of your laughter is swallowed by the crack of lightning.

In life, he finds there is nothing better than a cigar, and a finger of scotch after a round of sex.

(Or anything, really.)

He sparks the lightener, holding it to the end, and takes quick puffs from the stem. The sound of burning paper crackles as it burns in the flames.

Price stands on the balcony, eyes aimlessly drifting across the docks. The water is grey, nearly black; shaded by the approaching storm in the distance. A dark cloud on the gunmetal horizon. He tastes ozone in the air; the electric buzz of a gathering lightning strike.

The morning leaves him feeling off-kilter. The dream—dreaming, even—and the empty bed still sits in the pit of his guts. Uncomfortable, disquieted.

He's anxious, he notes, fingers trembling around the fat stem of his cigar. Each draw does little to quell it. Nicotine and scotch on little sleep and an empty stomach do nothing to calm his ruffled nerves. A state he hadn't fallen into since he watched Laswell grow smaller and smaller on the horizon.

He nearly smoked three cigars back to back before Gaz snatched his lighter.

("Don't think this is helping you much, cap.")

It does. Did.

But—

Your arms snake through the brackets of his elbows, curling around his waist. He's too tall for you to notch your chin on his shoulder, and so you settle for leaning over, and peaking out around the bulk of his broad back.

"Lovely morning for it," you murmur.

He catches your eye, teeth sinking into the stem of the cigar to hold it steady as his hands drop to your forearms. He catches the derision in your gaze. The pointed look you send him, sarcasm dropping from your eyes when they swing, pointedly, between the clock on the wall—barely noon hour—to the cigar in his mouth, and the glass of scotch on the patio table. Wordless disapproval of his mid-morning choices. His vices.

It makes his lip twitch up, pulling back from his teeth. It's hard to talk around the delicately balanced cigar clenched between his incisors, but years of practice lead him well.

"Ain't it jus'?"

He likes it when you're close to him.

Needy, you'd said. Clingy.

He feels it, too. There's a desperation inside of him, a clawing sense of affection woven with the threads of anxiousness, and it makes him unsettled when you're too far away from his greedy hands.

His fingers latch around your arms.

"You should stop smoking so much," you say in that tone he knows well—the one that, despite the subdued words murmured in a soft breath, actually means: stupid old man, you better listen or so help me God—

The same tone his mother had perfected when he was younger. Equal parts hedging, cautious, but firm enough to feel the blooming heat behind them. A caustic warning. One that, translated, means: there won't be another one.

No more chances when you speak to him like that. None.

And he gets it.

He's on the wrong side of forty, and you're tired of the ashes on the sheets, the cigar burns punched through the mattress you just bought (at a steal, you'd said, gleeful and bright, and—fuck).

So, he says, "sure, love."

(And really, giving up that extra cigar a day seems easy when you smile at him like that.)

You say nothing when he holds you a little bit tighter to his body, keeping you close; but he catches the soft sigh when he relaxes in your arms, and the tension bleeds from his shoulders.

You make a soft noise when he stubs the cigar in the ashtray, and then turns to you, eyes heavy.

Thunder cracks in the distance. The heavens split in two sending a deluge down that rips across the grey docks. Liverpool smells of ozone and wet pennies in the downpour.

Price pulls you in to his chest, hands heavy on your skin. Firm, rough. He's never been a gentle man, but you make him want to try. To be tender. Soft. Whatever you need, and more. Anything, he thinks. Anything.

You echo the call, and place your warm palm on his cheek, lids cresting in that sleepy desire that never fails to make his heart race.

He likes the way you make yourself fit against him - an imperfect puzzle piece - and draws you close when you lean up on the balls of your feet, eager to meet him in the middle. It's a searing kiss, the kind that instantly warms him against the sweeping winds howling through the wet streets below.

Nirvana in whispers. A soft tongue tracing the seam of his lips. He imagines this is the closest to peace a man like him will ever get, and it makes him hold on to you just a shade tigher. A bit more desperate. Unwilling - unable - to let go.

Thunder booms in the aether above, and echoes through his hollow bones. He feels the pulse of it thudding in his throat when it strikes again, and scents the livewire tang of a lightning strike when it cracks across the grey sky in a blinking, evanescent flash that makes you jump a little when it hits.

Price huffs into the kiss when you tremble in his arms, and holds you closer in the bracket of his chest.

"Jus' a storm, love," he whispers, the words a rough rasp pulled from his throat. "It'll pass."

"I know," you murmur, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt when another strikes scorches the pavement.

"Maybe I should distract you, mm?" He peppers kisses across your face, brows drawing together. "Could go for a nap after."

It makes you hum, a soft, honeyed coo. ", Take me to bed, John."

"Gladly, love."

He's never felt more at peace than in the middle of a terrible storm.

(But that should be a given considering they always seem to remind him of you.)

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