Request Rules

Request Rules

Salutations my little night horrors! I am Captain, and I am here to introduce to all of you to my oneshot requests! Now before we go into the requests, I would like to address a couple of rules and notes:

♡ I only write reader inserts

♡ Please specify if you want a oneshot, headcanon, or an imagine

♡ Please be specific on which characters you want me to write for (I have a list at the bottom) and if you see a character is not on the list, please don’t take it personally. I most likely have the character not on the list because I don’t think I can do them justice ;-; that’s really it lol

♡ I do write NSFW but nothing too hardcore (check list below)

♡ Most of my stories the reader is gender neutral, however, I can still write for either a f!reader or m!reader. This also includes fxf pairings and mxm pairings. Also, if a character is canonically LGBTQ+ Then I’m writing them as so 

♡ All romantic plotted characters will always be 18+ 

♡ I mostly write in second person P.O.V (you/your) but sometimes I will do third person P.O.V (she/her/him/he/they/them/etc) however, I will not write in first person (I/me/my/etc) because that just isn’t my usual style lmao

♡ I do take plot requests, however, I may tweak it a bit depending on how specific you are with the details so if you want something specific, please, be specific 😭

♡ AU's are also accepted. So fantasy AU, Soulmate AU, modern day AU, etc are fine by me

♡ I will possibly take only 10 requests at a time, but I can't promise I'll write them all since I do have other stories I’m working on :’) Writing oneshots is honestly just more for practice and to satisfy any story idea I probably can’t turn into a full chapter book lmao 

♡ When it comes to my yandere stories, I want to be clear that I am extremely against the romanticization of toxic relationship and mental health. So please remember not to seek out these kind of relationships in real life or show some of these ‘yandere’ tendencies to your significant other. The stories I write are just that: stories. Fiction. These relationships are toxic and not healthy. If you do find yourself in these kind of relationships, please seek out a domestic abuse hotline near you

♡ I also don’t just write yandere stories. I am down for a normal healthy relationship and platonic friendships/found family and fluff

I Will Write

Yandere (stalking, pervy, obsessive, possessive, the whole sha-bang)

Pegging | femdom

BDSM: Knife play | wax play | bondage | marking (scratching, biting)

I Won’t Write

Watersports | vomit | scat

Pedophilia

Incest

Mental illnesses

Vore

Beastiality

Fandoms/Characters I Write For:

Games

₊˚⊹ Dead By Daylight

Killers: Trapper/Evan MacMillan | Hillbilly/Max Thompson Jr. | Wraith/Philip Ojomo | Doctor/Herman Carter | Shape/Michael Myers | Huntress/Anna | Cannibal/Bubba Sawyer | Pig/Amanda Young | Legion/Susie,Julie,Frank,Joey | Plague/Adiris | Ghostface/Danny Johnson | Oni/Kazan Yamaoka | Deathslinger/Caleb Quinn | Executioner/Pyramid Head | Trickster/Ji-Woon Hak | Artist/Carmina Mora |

Survivors: Dwight Fairfield | Meg Thomas | Claudette Morel | David King | Jake Park | Feng Min | Nea Karlsson | Laurie Strode | Ace Visconti | Quentin Smith | Kate Denson | Adam Francis | Jeff Johansen | Jane Romero | Steve Harrington | Yui Kimura | Zarina Kassir | Felix Richter | Élodie Rakoto | Yun-Jin Lee | Jill Valentine | Leon Kennedy | Mikaela Reid | Yoichi Asakawa | Haddie Kaur | Vittorio Toscano | Thalita Lyra | Renato Lyra | Gabriel Soma | Sable Ward

₊˚⊹ Mortal Kombat

Kung Lao | Sub-Zero | Raiden | Liu Kang | Johnny Cage | Mileena | Reptile | Smoke | Kenshi | Scorpion |

Shows/Movies

₊˚⊹ Slashers

Scream: Ghostface [Stu, Billy] | Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Leatherface | Child’s Play [Charles Lee Ray] |

Animes

₊˚⊹

Other

₊˚⊹

With all of that said, I hope you enjoy my stories :)

everyone from q finding each other on tumblr like

Dark Devotion [Yandere! Dead By Daylight x Reader]

Summary: You are a mystery to both the survivors and killers within the fog. A servant of darkness, a creature created by the entity itself, you are the shadow behind the scenes that provides the survivors with the necessities they need to survive, while also assisting killers with the weapons they need to sacrifice. You are a servant void of humanity, but not one that seeks out despair. An empty slate that perhaps just needs to be taught a little bit of hope and empathy to help the survivors escape once and for all.

One. The Fog

You lived in a world where silence was the only sound and black was the only color. A dull and lifeless space where you aimlessly floated around. Never in your entire existence had you seen a drop of color or spec of life. The only touch is space, the only smell is a thought, and taste is nothing more than a want. Every sense is nonexistent, and nothing truly exists in the world where you roam alone. 

Where do you go from here?

Nowhere. You can't go anywhere. Your existence, mind and body, is one with the hollow world. Wherever you go, the darkness would follow.

For the longest time, you never actually wondered where you were or why you were there. Not once did you question your existence. It was like you were living in an empty world with an idea of what you were to do…and that was to simply exist. 

Your life was set up for you, and you adapted to that quite well. So why...

Why were you beginning to think? 

Why were you beginning to understand your existence?

It happened so fast, you couldn't comprehend what was happening. The feeling wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t unwelcome. You could feel the rushing winds blow throughout your entire being. Was this what it meant to be cold? The icy breeze stung, but you tolerated the feeling as you suddenly began to see a shift in your view.

It was no longer dark. Blurs of colors you had never known to exist began to form. You looked around, shapes formed within the colors. The once silent atmosphere dispersed into white noise of muffled ringing. You could feel something itch within you. You looked down. A dark mist molded with you. From the mist formed a human body. Your human body. Hands. Feet. Legs. You were beginning to take on a form, a physical form.

A strange noise came out of you. It scratched into the air, the sound feeling sharp and raw as it echoed into the empty world. All of your senses became instantly engulfed by your new existence. You could feel the space around you differ from your past form. The world was cold, and you could smell the fresh, damp matter that surrounded you. 

It was different.

All the colors were dark shades, but nothing like the world you had previously been a part of. This world had colors and shapes of many different forms that you had never seen before in your life. You looked all around you, your eyes instantly landing on a large figure just a few feet away.

Pushing forward, you felt your body slowly become separate from the glowing gold particles in the crawling mist. Your newly formed legs wobbled, however, you didn’t stop moving. Each step was a struggle, but you persisted until you were finally touching the the large rough being that loomed a thousand times over you.

Whispers spoke in your head. She called to you. Her voice was lulling and familiar, yet it was also painful and grotesque. She wrapped her voice around you, her beautiful wails cried out in simultaneous harmonies with the voices of the billions of tera worlds she had consumed.

Oh. These are trees?

Your fingers curled around the rough exterior of the ‘tree.’

It was interesting.

You continued to marvel at the world around you. Your eyes traveling down to your bare form, and up to the dark, empty sky. This new existence, it was peculiar, but you had to wonder. Why? Why are you here?

Her whispers got louder and the screams were more dreadful. It pounded into your head, carving its cries into every crevice of your consciousness, making you wince. She was loud. Very loud. But you could still make her needs. 

Purpose? What was your purpose?

Although the air was still, your mind was bustling with noise. You could hear her demands getting louder and louder. The cries of billions of lost souls tore through your head. However, through it all, you could still hear her ghastly, enchanting voice. 

Oh. That was your purpose.

Your gaze moved up to the open sky, eyes traveling into the black abyss of the universe.

Your purpose is to serve her.

ARCUS —?

Every being in history has either had a right hand man or a loyal disciple. An apostle that would do their ruler’s bidding as a believer and a fighter without any hesitation. That’s what it is. The servant. They are a wolf in sheep’s clothes. A poisonous flower that looks innocent at first sight until its spores seep into your skin and your left lying on the ground in despair. The servant is a creature of darkness made to serve as a physical embodiment of a soldier. When I first arrived here, I actually thought they were another survivor such as myself. I couldn’t be farther from the truth. They’re made of the same pure evil that the Ancient One is composed of.

However, my time with them has made me realize something. The only thing that sets them apart from the entity is its own curiosity. If the entity were to be Daedalus then the servant would be Icarus.

♡ Welcome Aboard… ♡

Navi

About Your Captain

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Stories

oneshots [requests are open!]

Dark Devotion [Yandere! Dead By Daylight x Reader]

You are a mystery to both the survivors and killers within the fog. A servant of darkness, a creature created by the entity itself, you are the shadow behind the scenes that provides the survivors with the necessities they need to survive, while also assisting killers with the weapons they need to sacrifice. You are a servant void of humanity, but not one that seeks out despair. An empty slate that perhaps just needs to be taught a little bit of hope and empathy to help the survivors escape once and for all. However, while teaching you how to be human, a few individuals form a bit of a bond with you, one in which will form an unhealthy obsession.

[ 01 ] [ 02 ] [ 03 ] [ 04 ] [ 05 ] [ 06 ] [ 07 ] [ 08 ]

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Dark Devotion [Yandere! Dead By Daylight x Reader]

Summary: You are a mystery to both the survivors and killers within the fog. A servant of darkness, a creature created by the entity itself, you are the shadow behind the scenes that provides the survivors with the necessities they need to survive, while also assisting killers with the weapons they need to sacrifice. You are a servant void of humanity, but not one that seeks out despair. An empty slate that perhaps just needs to be taught a little bit of hope and empathy to help the survivors escape once and for all.

Five. Vigil

NOTE: Spoilers for A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010)

TW: gore, MC is invasive but they’re learning boundaries

Laying in the cold paper thin bedsheets of his mattress, Quentin tossed and turned with his eyes screwed shut and his heart hammering against his chest. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, causing his shaggy brown hair to cling to his skin. The male clenched his teeth. He was trying desperately to sleep, but he couldn't stop the memories that flashed in his mind.

Go to sleep. Go to sleep. Just go to sleep.

He chanted in his head, but no matter how many times he tried to convince himself to sleep, he couldn't stop his past from haunting him.

Dean. Kriss. Jesse. He can still see them hanging on the walls of the boiler room. Dean's cold lifeless eyes would bore into him. The slit across his throat would have Quentin subconsciously gripping his own neck as though he himself had the same wound. Kriss would be right next to Dean. She would be hanging in her nightgown, bloodied and torn to shreds with her body ripped open and her inner intestines pooling out onto the cement floor. Jesse would be on the other side of Kriss. His jaw slacked open into a scream with a giant hole punctured into his chest.

They were dead. All of his friends were dead. Nothing more than hung up hollow corpses that were void of any soul, and yet, as he stared up at their swaying bodies, Quentin could practically hear their blood-curdling screams that shrieked with every steam that blew around him. Freddy was toying with him. He had become delirious; ridden with fear as he searched around the flame covered basement. The steam in the boiler room hissed and cried, echoing all around like terrified shrieks of the damned. He was scared, but Quentin persisted in his search of Nancy. He remembered looking everywhere for her. His heart pounding in his chest and his eyes wavering all around to find the brunette only for more flames to engulf his vision.

Quentin curled up into a fetal position. His hands clamped onto his head as he shook in his bed. A pathetic attempt to bring himself comfort only for more memories to resurface.

"Wake up, Nancy! Wake up!"

Tears would form in his eyes upon seeing her motionless body, unaware that she was crying out in fear as Freddy trailed his claws over her chest while she  was stuck with him in the dream state.

Nancy lying in bed, her body limp as she was trapped in the nightmare. Quentin hovered over her, his fingers clenched around her shoulders as he gave her a rough shake.

"Nancy, please don't do this! Please! Nancy, come back! Please, wake up! You promised!"

He remembered reaching over for the adrenaline shot. With blood stained fingers, he lifted the syringe over his head and plunged it into her chest. At the time he was relieved when she woke up with a start. However, his relief would be short-lived once Freddy entered the real world.

Both him and Nancy would fight Freddy to the death. While he was on the floor watching as Freddy stared at his decapitated hand in shock, Nancy would use that opportunity to take a sharp metal rod and end Freddy's life in a single swipe. With his throat slit opened, black ooze gushing out of his neck, the dream demon would collapse, lying in a pool of his own blood.

It would end there. It was supposed to end there. Him and Nancy being taken away in an ambulance, holding each other for comfort from the horrors they had to face.

Except it didn't end.

After Nancy's mom disappeared, he knew the fight wasn't over. Sure, it may have ended for Nancy. But for him? Quentin wasn't done. He wanted to make sure Freddy died and got dragged back into hell before he could even think to lay another finger on Nancy. He wanted that dream demon to pay for everything he's done. Not just to him and his friends when they were children, but for the lives he took and ruined along the way. He wanted to make sure that Freddy Krueger died, burning in a fiery inferno where he belonged.

Quentin grit his teeth.

He could still see it. That place where it all began. Badham's Preschool. Quentin had run through the empty hallways, the fluorescent lights flickered over his head. His sneakers squeaked with every step, but he didn't stop running. Zigzagging through the different rooms, he remembered running into a can of paint thinner, immediately a plan formed in his head.

He taunted Freddy. Shouting swears until he successfully lured the killer into his trap. A smile had formed on his face, enjoying the scene of Freddy's shocked face when he looked around at the flames that engulfed him. Fire reigned upon the preschool. While Freddy succumbed to the heated flames, Quentin took that chance to run.

He ran and ran until he found himself back to the basement, and in Freddy's secret room. He had been cornered with Freddy trailing behind him with a wicked grin. The killer had thought he had won, but Quentin refused to go down. Not until he saw Freddy's corpse six feet under. He wanted him dead. If Quentin had any sort of murderous bone in his body, it was reserved just for Freddy. He wanted him dead, and he was going to do whatever he could to make sure that happened.

He let those dark thoughts consume him. It was the dream realm afterall. Everything he learned he brought up to the table, unaware of the growing fog and tendrils that rose from the ground.

With his body covered in a black mist, the brunet would find himself alone. He looked around in the empty void, lost and confused. Did he do it? He walked around a bit. This place felt like a dream, but not one that was familiar to him. He wandered around into the space of nothingness until his eyes caught sight of a figure in the distance. The mystery person wore a red and green striped sweater and a familiar looking fedora that made Quentin's hands clenched into fists.

The figure would look over his shoulder. He would rub his claws together, the sickening sound of metal scraping against each other filled in the deafening silence between them. The Nightmare would let out a sinister laugh, a wicked grin forming on his burnt lips.

One, two, Freddy's coming for you

Three, four, better lock your door

Five, six, grab your crucifix

Seven, eight, better stay up late

Nine, ten, Freddy's back again

"Hey, Quentin. Did ya miss me?"

Quentin shot up in a cold sweat.

His body ached and his fingers dug into the flimsy bed sheets as though it were his only lifeline. The male looked around the room, his eyes scanned the quiet cabin for any signs of the dream demon. The only thing he could see were dark wooden floorboards and a single light bulb hanging in the middle of the ceiling.

Brushing his hair out of his vision, Quentin rubbed his face in exhaustion. His eyes stung from the many sleepless nights where he would try to fall asleep only for his mind to haunt him with flashes of his past.

He thought it was over. He thought once Freddy was gone from the dream state then the nightmares would finally end.

It didn't.

Once he entered the fog, Quentin found himself in a never ending battle for survival. Serial killers, monsters, new demons he couldn't fathom even existing, all of them in this realm for him to face. And worst of all? Freddy was still alive. He was in this damned place too. All of his efforts, those countless sleepless nights of drinking redbull and gulping down modafinil tablets while huddled in a corner of the library, studying books, articles, and papers on lucid dreaming, all of that to make sure Freddy died and stayed in the darkest pits of the underworld- it was all for nothing.

The fog, it was a special kind of eternal damnation. No matter if Quentin stays awake or lets himself succumb to death, he would always find himself right back where he started.

In a sick twisted turn of events, Quentin sometimes often thought to himself that maybe he did get his wish. Freddy Krueger could no longer harm Nancy. The dream demon was trapped in the entity's grasp, forever serving as nothing more than a pawn.

And all it took was for Quentin to go to Hell and drag Freddy there with him.

The door knob to his cabin door twisted, catching his attention. The fearful man clenched his bedsheets in anticipation, adrenaline still running through his veins as he watched with wide brown eyes as the door slowly creaked open.

From the shadows of the night, in stepped your familiar silhouette, causing the male to release a heavy sigh. It was just you.

You walked into the cabin. Gently closing the door behind you, you turned your attention over to the restless survivor on the bed.

"You are still awake." You state with your cold [eye color] eyes observing the male, "You should be resting for your next trial."

Quentin screwed his eyes shut once more. He knew that already. He knew he should be asleep. He knew that he should be resting so he didn't hinder his teammates in the trials, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. How ironic. Back on Elm Street he was fighting the urge to sleep, but now? He needed it more than ever if he wanted to survive.

"Yeah I know, I'm just not tired," he lamely explained, but that answer didn't seem to satisfy you.

"You need to rest for your next trial." You repeated, much to Quentin's annoyance.

"Yeah, I know. But I already told you, I'm not tired." He snapped back. Weaving his fingers through his tangled hair, Quentin moved his eyes to you once more, and glared. "So I would appreciate it if you would just leave it at that and just piss off." The aggression in his voice was practically dripping with warning as he turned away with his hands clenched and his body teetering back and forth. Quentin could already feel himself on the edge of a breakdown, and having you around wasn't helping him calm down. So he had hoped you would take the hint and leave, but in spite of his irritable behavior, your demeanor never once wavered.

"In your last trial you had blown up a generator over ten times. You had caused The Nurse to change targets and you had gotten your teammate killed in the process."

Quentin's once tired eyes hardened. Why did you bring that up? Hadn't he already beaten himself up for that already? When he first entered the fog, he would always be there to lend a helping hand. He was the one the survivors went to when an injured person needed a medic. He was there to help with quick thought out plans and a fighting spirit.

But over time, that started to die out. He was getting sloppy. With each escape, he felt his will to survive slowly unravel, revealing a tired worn out young man that just wanted to rest. He tried desperately to keep up with the others, but he was drained. Nightmare after nightmare, Quentin became paranoid. He couldn't sleep. He would often faint from the lack of sleep, and when he awoke, all of his teammates would be dead and the hatch locked. Leaving him in the dying state as he embraced the entity's tendrils that would pierce his body until he awoke once more at the campfire.

He knew he had become a problem. The survivors would often give him a side-eyed glance when he walked by, but he couldn't help it. He tried. And tried. And tried. But he was tired of trying. He was done.

A sneer made its way to his lips. He snapped.

"I'm tired, okay!” He heaved, “I’m so fucking tired but I can't sleep! Every time I close my eyes, I see that bastard's face! You think I can sleep after everything he's done to me and my friends?! Who the fuck can sleep after seeing their close friends fucking corpses?! I sure as fuck can't! No matter how tired I am, I can't let myself go to sleep!" He shouted. By now he was standing to his feet, hovering a few meters before you with his chest puffing up and down as he took heavy breaths. Quentin stared at you. If his eyes weren't so dry, he might've actually cried.

"Do you know how frustrating it is to want something so bad, but you can't go for it because of your own mind? Constantly sabotaging myself and others— FUCK. I'm such a fuck up! I want to go to sleep again! I want to be useful to my team again— an-and, I even want to dream again. Good dreams, not the same bullshit nightmare I see every time I close my fucking eyes." With his body trembling, Quentin's gaze bored into yours, his blood shot eyes pleading as he held your stare.

"Why am I even suffering like this?" He asked, his voice raspy with his throat cut and dry. Shaking his head, Quentin let out a humorless laugh, "You know what? It's fine...I'm fine with suffering like this," His breathing was shallow and his entire body was hot with a hurricane of emotions. Despair. Fear. And worst of it all, rage.

"I'd be fine being here if only— if only I knew that he was fucking dead. But why? Why isn't he fucking dead?!" He screamed, "What the fuck am I still doing here?! What is this all for anyways?! It's just nightmare after nightmare, isn't it?! It's shit! It's fucking shit! This place is bullshit!"

Quentin shouted. His eyes finally caved in to his raw emotions with warm tears that streamed down his cheeks. Quentin cried, his face burning red and his body shaking, but he didn't falter his eyes away from you. He stared you down, pleading for an answer. He wished you would tell him. Tell him that Freddy Kruger can die for good. Tell him that Quentin's wish can come true. 'You want him dead? Be my guest,' and let Quentin end The Nightmare once and for all.

But no. As Quentin trembled before you with glossy eyes and an inch of hope, you met his stare with a shroud of mist.

Fuck, what was he even doing?

His hands moved straight to his face. Quickly wiping at his face to dry off his blurry vision, Quentin let out a groan. Letting his body fall limp, he sat back on his mattress and rubbed his hands over his closed eyes.

"I'm tired."

The air fell silent.

It felt like an eternity passed before Quentin felt his rage subdue and be replaced with nothing but pure exhaustion. When was the last time he vented out all of his anger? It had been a while. Now that he finally let his thoughts loose, he felt nothing. He was just done.

His eyes finally went back to you. You were still standing by the door, having not moved an inch during his entire mental breakdown.

He released a sigh. Rubbing his eyes, he spoke. "What're you doing in my room, anyways?" He asked, eyeing you down with a frown. "You always just barge in without announcement. Ever heard of knocking?"

And finally, for once the entire time since you've been in his cabin, you replied.

"No."

Quentin scoffed. "Of course not, what should I expect from you." He grumbled. Ruffling his wavy brown locks, Quentin sighed once more before turning his attention back to you. "Well knocking is what polite people do to inform someone that they're coming in." He explained in a snarky tone. Making a fist, he used the back of his hand to knock on wooden bed frame. "Like that."

"I see."

Still standing by the door, you used the back of your gloved knuckles to give his door a gentle knock. You then turned to him with a poker face.

"There. From now on I will knock on the door-"

Quentin nodded, a yawn leaving his lips. "Good."

"-after I've entered the room."

He looked at you in disbelief, "What?"

You stood up straighter. "I said I'll knock after I've entered the room, thus announcing my arrival." You responded, almost factual as if you were the one teaching him about knocking.

Quentin could only look at you with a pointed stare. He was too tired to laugh.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, you do it before entering. That way you don't just scare someone or embarrass them. You let them know before so they could either tell you to wait or come in."

You stared at him without saying anything. The male didn't have to see it to know you were confused.

"You know what? Nevermind."

You gave a curt nod before walking further into the room.

"To answer your first question, I have come to give you clean bed sheets." You said, stepping into his line of sight. It was then that Quentin noticed the bundle of white held in your arms.

"Oh."

You gently set the fresh blankets onto the empty wooden desk besides his bed.

Quentin could only stare at the bedsheets, his mind going blank. "Thanks." He mumbled.

Feeling a wave of exhaustion, Quentin threw his head back. Closing his eyes, he ignored your presence as to let his restless mind wander.

While he laid back on the mattress, you turned to face him. You watched as he fought down another yawn. He was a peculiar one. He claims to be so tired, but he won't allow himself to rest. The human psyche worked in mysterious ways. Ways you couldn't understand, but you found intriguing. This particular survivor was a stubborn one, full of hatred and determination. He hated being in the realm, he hated that the dream demon was still alive. However, he still had a drive to see the killer suffer. Unknown to the brunet male, it was his restless obsession to end the dream demon that drew the entity to him. It was that same drive that kept him here and not thrown into the void.

Tired? It was a mere bump in the road, one easily conquered if he were to just allow himself to replenish his energy. How bad has his condition gotten since you've last seen him?

Walking over to his bedside, Quentin felt your shadow loom over him, causing him to open his eyes and slowly sit up.

"What do you want-?"

Before he could finish that sentence, you had leaned down to his eye level. Both of your hands cupped his cheeks, and tilted his head up to meet your ice cold gaze.

Quentin felt his face heat up. He could feel your cold touch hit his pale skin. You were so close, so much so that he could smell the strong scent of burning wood and fresh pine linger off of you. With your face moving closer to his, he could see those pools of [eye color] brighten in hue as you stared at him with your pupils dilating smaller and smaller. It was fascinating, if not scary, seeing the colors in your eyes swirl with life. [Eye color] tones mixed with gold swirls, he has seen your eyes ever glow like this when the two of you would meet up for check-ups, and every time he saw your eyes, he was in awe.

But not this time. Caught off guard, his heart thumped against his chest in fear as you stared at him, expressionless.

"Wh- hey! What're you doing?!" He sputtered, trying to pull himself away. If he weren't so exhausted, he could've probably escaped your grip, but his body failed him, making him sit still as you brushed your fingers across his cheeks.

"I'm scanning your health." You explained, bringing your hand to his temples. "You've been through this process before. I'd assume you would know that by now."

"Well- yeah, but I'd be aware of it first!" Quentin hissed, his body finally moving on his command as he brought his hand up and gripped one of your wrists. It was then that you looked at him, head tilted a bit and the swirl of colors fading in your eyes.

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes." He responded, his eyes not once faltering from your gaze, "Remember the knocking thing?"

"Yes."

"Well, this applies with the same rules. It's only polite to let me know you're going to scan my health before you go on touching me whenever you want. Even then I don't appreciate that."

"Why is that?"

"Because it’s just not okay with me.” As Quentin stared at you, he could see the information sinking in. The touch on his temple was being ever so slightly lifted away, causing him to loosen his own grip.

"I see." You mumbled, brows furrowed for a brief moment before you went back to your stoic expression. "I apologize if what I did is considered impolite.”

Quentin let out a long sigh. He couldn’t quite blame you for not understanding. It wasn’t as if you were intentionally trying to be invasive anyways. You were just another weird species in the realm that had the inability to understand boundaries. So while he still didn’t appreciate you always shadowing over him and the others, he knew that you never really had any ill intent.

“It’s fine.” He groaned into his hands, rubbing at his restless face, “At the very least, you know now."

“Thank you. I will to be sure to learn from this experience and remember to always inform you when I will be performing a wellness check." You commented, eyes stern as you stared down at him. “However, I do need to continue to scan your vitals. So I will inform you right now that I will be checking on your health. It is my duty to ensure all survivors are—.”

“—adequate enough to perform in trials. yeah, yeah. I know the drill.” Quentin rolled his eyes. Of course you wouldn’t completely follow his words. Why would you? It wasn’t as if you were in an allegiance with him. He was just another prisoner in the realm— one of many victims to the entity. He was just lucky you even took his words into consideration when you had no obligation to.

So, with his head rolling back to face the ceiling, Quentin mumbled a string of swears under his breath before meting your eyes once more.

“Fine. Just make it quick." He grumbled, watching you nod and gently rest your fingers back onto his temple. While you hovered over him, Quentin could feel his face warm up once more with every passing second he took looking at you. He could see every detail of your face. The shape of your eyes and the swirl of colors in your irises, his eyes moved across your face where he noted the peach fuzz on your cheeks and followed along the curves of your lips.

Your body was almost flushed against his. Your legs stood against the side of the bed, but your body leaned in close as your hands moved across his forehead. If anyone saw him now, they would think the two of you were being intimate with the way you brushed his hair off his skin and gently caressed the space under his eyes.

Although you were way too close for comfort, he had to admit that the way you were holding his face with delicate care was really soothing. He could feel his heart returning to an even pace and his body relax under your touch. He knew he shouldn't be letting his guard down, especially around someone who works under the creature that brought him here, but the way your hands cupped his face made him feel safe again. He let his eyes close, this time without Freddy popping into his vision.

"You're sleep deprived. Your insomnia has caused you to have high blood pressure and become easily irritable."

You released his face, making him stumble forward and blink himself awake.

You straightened up, your eyes gazed down at him almost as if you were scolding him.

"I've already informed you, but The Nightmare has no access to getting to the survivors' side of the map. And even if it were plausible, all killings outside the map are strictly forbidden and are punishable."

Quentin turned his face away, his once relaxed posture straightening up as he sat back against the bed frame. His embarrassment long forgotten upon hearing his diagnosis.

"I already know all that. I keep telling you, no matter how many times you tell me these things, I can't go to sleep."

"Well, you haven't been visiting the medical cabin as much. I merely assumed you go when I'm not around. Have you stopped taking your pills?"

Quentin sighed, "They stopped working."

You were confused.

"If that was the case then why haven't you come to see me? I could always prepare you with other medication."

Quentin let out a sarcastic laugh. "So the others can keep questioning me? I already get a bad rep by falling asleep in trials, I don't want the others asking anymore questions. It'll just cause more problems."

You didn't understand why it was such a big deal, but if the brunet survivor was going to be stubborn then you would have to find other means for him to rest. Getting off the bed, you straightened yourself out before looking back over to him.

"If that's the case, then do you have any other methods of being able to fall asleep?"

Other methods?

Quentin scratched the back of his head. "Ugh, not that I know of."

The male racked in his brain for any memories. Warm milk did nothing. He's already tried exercising. And sleeping pills...he's taken so many that he's pretty sure that if he survived every one of his trials then he'd die of bad intestines. He's done pretty much everything.

A sudden flash of Nancy came to mind, causing Quentin to halt. Nancy.

He remembered those nights with Nancy after they both thought they had killed Freddy. He remembered how he would hold Nancy to sleep, lulling her with sweet words followed by small kisses. He remembered holding her as the visions would come flooding in, but once he tightened his hold on her, feeling her body against his as he cuddled her like a safety blanket, the visions would go away. It was all Nancy. Nancy was his reason to keep going. She made him strong. She was what kept him sane and the nightmares away. She was his everything.

A ghost of a smile moved on his lips.

"Did you think of something?" You asked, having witnessed his change of demeanor.

Quentin snapped out of his daze. Meeting your observing eyes, Quentin coughed into his hand, hiding his blushing face. "Yeah, but it's dumb."

"Please share." You urged, "it is vital you get your sleep to be proficient in trials."

Quentin felt his finger clam up. He hadn't really spoken about Nancy before to anyone in the fog, and quite frankly, he really didn't want to. But knowing you, if he didn't share what he had been thinking about, then you would never go away.

"When Freddy was constantly harassing me and my friends, there was this girl." He started, his mind wandering into a haze of broken memories. "She was warm, funny, a fighter- the coolest person you would ever meet. Her presence made me forget Freddy was even around." He chuckled, remembering the small moments between him and Nancy.

"Back home when we thought Freddy had died, we became a thing. Ever since those nights on Elm Street, we would always sleepover at each other's houses. We were paranoid, but being around each other brought us both comfort. Well, for me at least. I was always the one that was supposed to keep her safe, but she always made me feel safe."

Quentin smiled, "She was amazing."

The male let his mind wander, reminiscing about his time with Nancy. How long had it been since he last saw her? How was she doing? Although Quentin hated being in this realm, he was happy it was him and not Nancy.

"Unfortunately I can't bring that person here to this realm." You replied, causing Quentin to look up at you, alarmed.

"No, that's not what I want! Even if you could bring her here- that's the last thing I would want to happen!" He exclaimed, his heart aching at the thought. "Anything but that."

Burying himself in his arms, he mumbled. "I just miss not being alone."

So that's what it was.

"Well, would you perhaps want me to stay? Another presence in the room might make you feel safe from the Nightmare. You already know he can not leave the killer's side of the realm, but if it brings you peace to have someone watch over you, I can stay until you rest."

Quentin really, really wanted to decline. Although he's known you for quite some time, he didn't really know you, know you. It would be like a stranger watching over him as he slept. But, you were his only option. He didn't want to bother anyone anymore with his restless condition, and if having you in the room as he slept would keep him from bothering the other survivors, then so be it.

Quentin met your eyes and gave a hesitant nod.

"Then, please." You motioned towards the bed, "Get some rest."

Quentin reluctantly laid back in his bed. Settling under the sheets, the brunet motioned over to the desk and chair next to his bed. "You can sit there if you want."

You looked back over at the desk, and nodded. As you pulled the chair from the table and sat back, Quentin took his time setting himself back into a more comfortable position in the sheets. Although he wasn't the most comfortable in his jeans and jacket, he refused to be any more vulnerable in front of you than he already has been.

Closing his eyes, the tired male tried to relax.

Key word: tried.

While he laid in silence, he could feel your eyes bore into him, studying his movements like an animal in a zoo.

He furrowed his brows, "It's hard to sleep when you're staring at me."

"I apologize."

Another moment of silence, but this time, he could actually feel himself relax. Your strong scent of fresh pine still lingered in the air, making him forget about any thoughts of the dream demon. The only thing he could think about was your scent and the ghostly touch of fingers on his face. Before drifting off to sleep, Quentin looked over at you.

You stared out at the window, the darkness of the wilderness reflecting in your eyes.

He wanted to thank you for staying with him. But he couldn't.

So as he fluttered his eyes closed, the last thing Quentin saw was your silhouette. And for once, he allowed himself to finally relax for the first time in a long time.

Walking down the pebbled path, Feng Min wandered around aimlessly as her mind went back to the previous discussions with the others. She couldn't stop thinking about it ever since Yun-Jin brought it up.

Was it really possible to change you?

She didn't know, but she wanted to give it a try. All the facts point to you being nonhuman, obviously, but a nonhuman that didn't pick either the survivors or killers. You were a loophole, the perfect bug in the game, and she hadn't realized it until now.

Being a competitive gamer, Min wasn't one to give up on a challenge so easily. She strived to strategize, to succeed, and prove others wrong. So what if some of the others didn't believe in their plan? She was determined to change you and escape. Even if she had to do it alone, so be it. She was ready to leave.

Walking by the rows of cabins, Min caught sight of familiar [hair color] hair, causing her to halt. Speak of the devil.

You were carrying around bundles of sheets, walking into each cabin for a few minutes and shortly leaving afterwards. This was one of your routines, she noted, watching as you left Felix's cabin and walked into Quentin's.

For being a creature created by pure evil, you were surprisingly clean and maintained a perfect posture. Always doing tasks scarily quick and often appearing out of thin air. You were the perfect being, and Min often wondered if you were created that way or if that was something you learned. Did you even want to learn? Or were you just created perfect? Did you ever have any stray thoughts?

Maybe she should ask? No, she should wait for the others. They have yet to decide how to go about talking to you. They wanted to first recruit others, see how you interacted with all of the survivors, before setting up a plan.

Still, she was curious to know more about you.

Suddenly, Min heard shouting. Her eyes gazed upon Quentin's cabin with a raised brow. From the sounds of it, Quentin had been yelling at you. She couldn't really hear what about, but as soon as the shouting came, it went. Leaving nothing but silence to fill the air. She didn't really care what happened in there. If anything, you would just go back to what you were doing like how you usually do when dealing with either Meg's temper tantrums or Nea's bullying.

The black haired woman crossed her arms over her chest, and she waited.

Soon you would leave that cabin, moving on to the next, and continue your routine.

Or at least that's what she thought. But as time passed, you never left Quentin's cabin, leaving Min standing there confused and surprised.

Scratch out what she just thought. She did care. What happened in there? Why didn't you leave Quentin's cabin? What're you two doing in there? And how were the two of you associated?

Thinking about it now, Min realized that sometimes when she lingered around the campfire, she would often see Quentin go to the medical cabin, uninjured. Was he going there to see you? If so, then why? She knew Dwight would often see you because he had a crush on you, it was obvious. Well, it was obvious to her at least. But you and Quentin? Who else were you associated with?

Survivors in the realm often worked together, all of them were fighting the same fight, so there was no reason to keep secrets, right? Well, she thought that. But as she stood in the middle of the path, thinking over all the other survivors in the realm, she realized most of them were strangers. She truly didn't know some of them outside the trials.

Min hummed to herself. She didn't know Quentin all that well, but if you and him had some kind of association, maybe mentioning him to the others wouldn't be so bad.

Noting that for later, Min didn't care to stay any longer and continued on her path.

May I add you to my dbd writers list and do you write nsfw?

Yeah, that’s totally fine :) and yes I do write nsfw! ♡