Jeffrey Hawk/The Clown Appreciation Post

Jeffrey Hawk/The Clown Appreciation Post

I've been wanting to state my opinion about Jeffrey for a long time, so now I'm going to do it. But first I'm going to ask, "Why? Why do folks not want anything to do with Jeffrey?" That has been my question ever since the beginning when I started writing for the dbd fandom. Many writers/artists always answer the same way, and that's by using the excuse that Jeffrey is just a very terrible person. Well... I hate to break it out to everyone, but umm.... ALL of the killers are terrible people. For one to say that they don't want anything to do with Jeffrey because "he's a bad person" is pure hypocriticism. Ji-Woon, Michael, Herman, and Danny are good examples of popular killers who get lots of attention but are still sadistic, evil characters who have undeniably done terrible things, and yet folks still love them. To love one killer and hate another because they are "terrible" when both killers have done equally bad things is hypocritical.

I'm not saying that people have to like Jeffrey. Everyone is free to have their own thoughts and opinions. All I want is for people to stop being hypocritical. If someone doesn't want to write Jeffrey because of his appearance then they should simply say it, or not mention him at all because that would still be better than lying. When it comes to doing terrible things, Jeffrey is no different than the rest of the killers, especially the truly sadistic ones like Michael, Danny, Ji-Woon and Herman. Let's admit it together, right? They're all terrible!

Jeffrey doesn't have to be a killer that everyone likes. This post is simply me just being pitiful and wishing for something that most likely will never happen. I just hope that people can be more honest about how they feel, or at the least not say anything at all because it's depressing to those of us who do like Jeffrey. There's not a lot of content with him either, and the content we do get is mostly non-consensual and abusive, and the fact that that's how he's mostly written is disappointing to me. People can write however they want to. I just really hope we get some more inspirational content with this big, lovable Clown.

Herman Carter taking care of a reader on their period.

Early this morning whenever he woke up, Herman took extra caution in getting out of bed for he could recall how exhausted and sore you had been all evening yesterday. Last night you had had trouble sleeping and complained of stomach pain when he asked. Considering what time of the month it was, it was rather obvious what was happening. He had gotten out of bed quietly so not to disturb you. Later he planned to wake you after you had gotten enough rest so that he could shower you with love and care.

For the majority of the morning Herman prioritized himself with making coffee, calling to check and see how his "business" was running while he was out for the weekend, and reading the newspaper. A mere hour and a half had passed whenever he suddenly heard the guttural sound of the pipes groaning in the walls indicating running water. What? Herman lowered his mug and gazed in the direction of the hallway where the bathroom was. Were you awake?

Dismissing his newspaper, Herman stood up, took another drink of his beverage and made way down the hall. On his way to the bathroom, he peeked inside your shared bedroom and saw an empty bed void of sheets and one of the blankets. Oh no. You must have started while you were asleep. Herman sighed in slight distress for he knew how sensitive you were. Waking up like this probably put you in a terrible mood.

But that didn't mean that he was going to run away and avoid you. No. You needed him, and he loved you so much, there was no good reason to let something simple like this bring either of you down.

Heading to the restroom, Herman stopped and gently knocked on the door, "(y/n) my love, is everything alright?"

On the other side of the door, he could hear your broken gasp and the shuffling of your feet over the trickle of running water. "Y-yeah, I-I'm alright," You whined.

But Herman knew better. "May I come in?" He asked, his lips roughly pressing together as he suppressed the urge to march in there himself and embrace you.

"N-not right now, please," You whimpered, and it nearly drove Herman insane because he knew that you were anxious and humiliated and you were most likely crying.

"I know what happened," He stated, leaning against the door with his hand resting on the knob, "And I hope you know that I understand. You needn't feel ashamed."

"But I..." You cried.

That settles it. Herman opened the door and walked inside, clouded by the steam from the shower as he studied your hunched form standing in front of the counter, your face buried in your hands. Besides your stained underwear, you were completely naked, your body trembling and jerking every few seconds.

"Oh (y/n)," He mumbled and moved forwards to place a hand on your shoulder, coaxing you into unraveling enough to face him, "Everything is going to be alright."

"No it's not," You protested with a choked, messy cry, your hands jerking away from your face thus showing your broken, agitated expression, "I'm disgusting. I ruin e-everything. Why do you even still have me around?"

"(y/n)..." Herman bit his tongue and tilted his head back, the flood of anger that had invaded him from your denials and false assumptions dissipating by his strong understanding. You were on your period. This kind of attitude was to be expected.

Breathing out calmly, Herman stepped forward, placed his hand on your other shoulder and carefully turned you towards him. "I have you around because I love you," He spoke firm and genuinely, "There's nothing that you have ruined. We can wash the clothes. My, you act as if a little blood is treason."

"It is," You mumbled, rubbing your nose and averting your gaze.

Herman chuckled and pulled you into his arms, "Even committing treason, you're still the most beautiful gift I could ever ask for."

You whined into his chest while eagerly soaking up his praise, warmth and reassurance. Herman was always putting up with your depressed mood swings and insecurities, constantly showering you with all his divine love and support. He was the best person you could ever have. "I love you," You mumbled into his chest, nuzzling the firmly textured fabric of his suit.

"And here I was beginning to believe that you didn't want to be around me," Herman recollected with an innocent hum.

You frowned and looked up at him with an irritated glare, not really appreciating the fact that he ruined the mood by using your own words against you.

Herman chuckled and leaned down to kiss your forehead, "I love you too, my dear. Now, take your shower. I will clean the clothes."

"Are you sure?" You whispered whenever he kissed your lips, his arms moving up and down your bare sides, fingers slipping into the band of your stained underwear.

Separating from your addictive lips, Herman smiled his charming smile and nodded, "Of course."

After a few more shared kisses and caresses, Herman took your night time clothes and left you to shower and do your morning routine. He set the clothes to washing, covered the bed with a fresh sheet and got it set up for your liking. While you were still in the bathroom, he stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom and proceeded to ready himself for his surprise for you.

Taking off his shoes, belt and vest, he untucked his shirt and loosened some of the top buttons, checking to make sure his face was well shaved and his teeth shining perfectly. A man's gotta look good for his partner, you know, especially when they were on their period.

He waited on the edge of the bed for you, grinning in fondness when you practically drug your feet across the ground while walking into the bedroom, your head lowered and a towel loosely wrapped around you. You looked miserable and distressed, but he planned to change that. "Feeling better?"

You hummed and tilted your head upwards, gasping when you saw Herman sitting on the freshly made bed, his vest gone and shirt unbuttoned. "Oh-um..." Blushing, you then looked over and saw the heating pad laying prepped and plugged in on your side of the bed. So he wanted to do 'that'? "Herman, y-you didn't have to do all this, I... I'm sorry about earlier, I just... I..."

"Don't apologize," Herman stood from the bed and walked towards you, his hands encompassing your small figure and pulling it close, "I love doing this for you."

"But... It's your weekend, and I..."

"Have just made it all the more enjoyable? Yes, I agree," Herman smirked and leaned down to kiss you, slowly coaxing the edge of the towel from your hands so that he could pull it away and let it drop uselessly to the ground. "Mmm, you're so beautiful."

Moaning into the deep kiss, you push into him with your half naked body and shudder whenever he kneaded and massaged at the bits of flesh he had expertly learned cramped the most. It felt so good.

It took effort but Herman eventually stopped kissing you enough he was able to guide you to the bed where he had you lay down on your stomach after taking a few drinks of your favorite beverage. Then with your aching front laying pressed against the heating pad, he carefully crawled on top of you from behind and sat down against your lower thighs, his brown eyes staring lovingly at your flushed, gorgeous skin.

"Beautiful," He bent down and kissed your upper back, unable to resist ravishing your body as he put one hand over the other and pressed down against your lower back where the pain was at it's worst peak. You moaned and whimpered beneath him, looking so relaxed and at peace as he began massaging your throbbing, aching flesh.

"Feels so good," You whimpered, nuzzling into the pillows.

Herman smirked against your back and said in a promising whisper, "And it's going to feel so much better..."

Soon.

Killers' reactions to a reader who's pants were pulled down while they were on a hook. (Part one).

Michael

He heard you scream a second time a few seconds after hooking you, and he suspiciously turned around to see you struggling to cover your vividly exposed crotch. Ace and Nea giggled loudly just behind some bushes to the right. They must have been the ones who did this.

Whenever you noticed his lingering gaze, Michael didn't like the way you flinched in horror, your body shaking as you cried in embarrassment and fear. Honestly, what a sucky thing to do to someone who was literally about to die.

Since they were here, Michael marched over to the unsuspecting survivors, immediately sliced open Ace's back and reached out for Nea's throat. With Nea dead on the ground and Ace perched on a hook, he went back to you.

You wouldn't look at him as one hand covered your face and the other lay splayed over your crotch, whimpers and cries endlessly filling the atmosphere. You looked miserable.

Sliding his knife in his pocket, Michael bent down, startling you as his bloody hands grabbed the edges of your pants and swiftly pulled them up over your hips. Then he casually stepped back, taking in your gasp and the look of utter shock and gratitude on your face. Hmp...

Michael's smirk was hidden behind his mask as he turned away. Maybe he'd give that last survivor some time to pull you off the hook before ending this trial.

Jeffrey

He was in the midst of chasing Feng when he lost her behind some pillars. Then he heard a loud, defensive shout and raised a brow as he followed the trail that led to the exact spot you were hooked, and...

"Well hot damn," Jeffrey's eyes went wide as he stared down at your exposed crotch. You shrieked in surprise at his presence and quickly reached down to cover yourself, your face flushed and body trembling in humiliation.

Smirking with a chuckle, Jeffrey took a few steps forward and shamelessly continued to look at you, "So was you survivors being naughty little things, or are you just tryin' to show off?"

As you painfully turned your flustered face as far off to the side as you possibly could, whimpering in a mixture of fear and embarrassment, Jeffrey heard laughter and turned to see Feng and Meg high-five each other in victory before sprinting away.

"Aw hell," Jeffrey chuckled, amused by the whole charade as he moved forward and reached down to yank your pants up. "Ain't nothin' worth gettin' all embarrassed about."

Grinning once he was done, Jeffrey looked right into your flustered, shocked eyes, his voice becoming a seductive whisper as he lifted sir-cuts-a-lot and languidly licked the dull edge, "Anyone ever tell ya I'm good at usin' my mouth?"

As you bashfully keened in embarrassment, Jeffrey patted your head and took off, eager to see if the survivors would conjure another pants prank.

Herman

Using his static blast, Herman had expected that you would have been pulled from the hook by the time he returned to capture your friends, but... Apparently not.

Whenever Herman arrived on scene, there were no other survivors to be found, but you... You were in a struggle- your limbs thrashing around and your mouth hung open in a panic as you fought to pull up your pants and underwear, and when you finally noticed him, you screamed in terror.

Unlatching his mouth straps, Herman set his bat down and walked up to you, "How did this happen?"

You were sobbing into one of your hands while covering your privates with the other, "D-David."

Good grief. Herman sighed, dissatisfied by this display of disrespect and ill mannerism. You were a mess too, crying and shaking and trying to hide yourself from him, vulnerable, humiliated and exposed. "Do I have your permission 'to'?" He kept his glowing eyes on yours, mindlessly gesturing to your nether regions.

"Please..." You sputter, desperately trying to hide yourself away.

"Hold still," Herman stepped up to you and reached down to carefully pull your pants up, even going so far as to refasten the button, "There."

"Thank you," You whimpered gratefully, roughly wiping at your messy eyes and face.

"Here," Herman pulled out a folded handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to you, "My apologies for the blood."

And then he took his leave, off to get you revenge on David.

Bubba

There are survivors he does and doesn't enjoy hooking. You're one of the ones he doesn't enjoy hooking, and when he goes back to check if you're okay after unleashing an alarming scream, he ends up squealing in disbelief and horror.

Your pants were down thus flashing him with your delicate privates. Ahhhhhhh! He practically wailed, embarrassed, ashamed and utterly perplexed. Why were your pants down? Why? He covered his face, calming only when he heard your frantic cries-

"I'm sorry! I-I'm sorry. They pulled my pants down. I'm sorry. I just wanna die..."

At the sound of your confession, Bubba sprinted off and easily caught Meg, forcing her back to the hook and dropping her in front of you. Whilst keeping his eyes averted, he squealed and chirped loudly while gesturing from her to you, making frantic 'pull-up' motions with his hands.

"A-are you serious? You want 'me' to pull up their stupid-"

Bubba squealed, lifting his hammer in warning. Meg flinched and quickly went to roughly yank your pants up, cursing at you under her breath. After she pulled you off the hook, Bubba smashed her upside the head with his hammer and then rushed over to you.

Brisk and gently he patted your shaking shoulders, trying to reassure you and see if you were okay. "Th-thank you," You nodded, and he smiled in relief, hugging you fast and then going to hook the traitor.

Frank

He was circling back whenever he thought he heard footsteps, caught off guard by the sounds of laughter and frantic protests. As he went inside the building, he flinched and covered his eyes at the sight of your exposed crotch.

"Jesus, what the hell?" He snapped aggressively, "Why the fuck are your pants down?"

In the background, Frank heard maniacal laugher and searched around to find Kate and Élodie making lewd gestures above the stairs, obviously mocking you and him both. Those obnoxious mother-mmm...

At the sight of his clenching fists, the two pranksters fled leaving Frank stewing in a pit of anger and embarrassment. You weren't faring much better by the sound of your terrified whimpers and humiliated cries. Dammit...

"Uh... I-um..." Frank rubbed his neck while awkwardly approaching you, his gaze averted, "If you let me, I'll uh... Look, just give me your stupid permission and I'll pull your pants up, alright?"

"Ok," Came your ghostly whisper.

Taking in a deep breath, Frank was grateful that his mask covered his heated face as he shyly stopped in front of you, unable to keep from checking you out as he grabbed your pants and swiftly pulled them up to your hips. "Those sorry bitches are gonna pay..." He swore.

Stepping back, he was overwhelmed by your brutal sniffles and anxious sobs, and couldn't help himself when he said, "Quit crying. I'm gonna get them back, alright?"

And then he turned and rushed away before the urge to comfort you more shined through, or the growing warmth in his own pants... Stupid fucking survivors...

Caleb

He saw it happen from a distance. Nea walked right up to you, tore your pants down and laughed directly in your face as you struggled and cried to cover yourself. What disrespectful nonsense.

As the prankster ran away at his approach, Caleb stopped by your hook and lingered in place, his brows raised as he took in your stance. "Gotta admit... Them vultures put on a helluva damn show," He snickered, "Can't say I ain't impressed."

You keened in embarrassment, looking up at him and then flinching as you fought to keep your crotch covered and face averted. He chuckled at your obvious shyness and slowly walked forward, saying teasingly, "Ya know, we could make a trade off. Ya show me yirs, an' I'll show ya mine."

As you made adorable little noises of horror, shock and bashfullness, Caleb chuckled and lowered his gun, "I'm jus' messin' with ya, sugar. Now, ya want me to do the honors here?"

Taking in your fast nods, Caleb took his time bending down, whistling loudly as he grabbed your pants and slowly pulled them back up. You were hiding behind your hands, looking absolutely adorable.

"Gotta say, sugar," He mumbled beside your ear, "I wouldn't mind seein' another show like this again."

As you whined in shy embarrassment, Caleb chuckled fondly and took off.

Albert Wesker x Reader Story

It was purely accidental. You didn't mean to grow any feelings because of it. But every time you experienced a trial facing him, Wesker was always praising your work ethic and survival skills. Constantly he was saying things like "what a striking performance" or "well done, (y/n)" or even "I know you can do better than that,". His tenacious laughter would echo mischievously in the wind behind you.

After being here for a few months, you knew that you were not high standard. No one really thought you were all that interesting, honestly, and due to the fact that you were demisexual, most people who tried getting to know you gave up pretty quickly. And your sexuality wasn't the only downside to you.

You were extremely sensitive and would break down instantly at the slightest mean comment or the raise of someone's voice. You always either tried to avoid people or stay as quiet as possible. Even you believed that it was stupid and annoying, but you couldn't help how your heart felt.

And in these past few weeks, your heart had been beating for Albert Wesker.

Besides the people who only wanted quick, one night stands- which you obviously refused- there hadn't been anybody who had shown you true interest. Besides Wesker that is... That man treated you differently, or at least you suspected he did. Unlike other survivors who got the rasher end of his behavior, you were praised, complimented, and some times even given second chances. That had to be a sign right? A sign that you were special to him?

"'Is Wesker seeing anyone'?" Kate repeated your question with heavy sarcasm, her arms crossed as she gave you a judgemental stare, "Ha, and why are 'you' asking, huh? You think you actually have a chance with him? Do you realize how pathetically stupid you are- I mean, this is Wesker we're talking about. What could ever make you think that a hot piece of meat like him would ever fall for a flavorless dud like you?"

You were shaking, your arms, face, hands and chest growing hot and sweaty beneath your clothes as tears filled your eyes. "You're right," You could feel the shame, embarrassment and stupidity slicing ribbons across your heart, "I'm sorry."

Quickly, before she could say anything else, you walked away, one shaky hand covering your mouth as you found an isolated area in the woods and fell to your knees. Like a bursting dam you began crying, snot pouring out your nose as you covered your face. Regret pounded through your veins; you shouldn't have said anything to them. You should have known that they would only be cruel.

Kate was right though. You were pathetically stupid. You were a flavorless dud. Not to top it off but you were also boring, ugly, weak, and an overly sensitive crybaby. As if Wesker would have feelings for a low piece of trash like you. You were so stupid for falling for the new guy. He was probably like everyone else- only interested in beneficial relationships, hot people, and easy wins during trials.

You were nothing.

...

"My back is fucking killing me," Kate hissed while tenderly rubbing her aching sides.

David looked at her with mock pity, "Maybe you should stop lettin' em bend ya over the gens, yeah?"

"It's not my fault that's all they'll do," She scuffed.

"Were you able to do it with the new guy yet?" Feng eagerly asked, excitement in her eyes.

Kate groaned and pouted, shaking her head, "Nope, he's not biting yet, but we're getting there. No one can resist this sexy ass, haha- oh! I forgot to tell you guys..."

Unbeknownst to the survivors leisurely lounging about inside the living room to the Haddonfield house, Wesker was standing right outside the window, quietly listening in. He had been searching for that fancy dressed buffoon with the electric abilities, needing to gain some information about trials. Evan told him that he could find him here. Unfortunately- or perhaps luckily- his casual search had bestowed him upon this interesting conversation.

"This morning (y/n) had the guts to ask if he was single- ugh, like their pathetic ass could ever get with a guy like him," Kate rolled her eyes and made a gagging gesture, "They're so fucking stupid."

"Ya really think they're into him?" David chuckled, "That's funny. It would suck to be them."

"Yeah, they'll never find a partner," Feng giggled and grinned, "Especially not my sexy Wesker, haha!"

"I told them off," Kate stated with a small glare, "Demi-dumb ass better stay the hell away from him... Pathetic bitch."

On the other side of the wall, Wesker desired doing one of two things. Either smash through the wall and brutally murder those two scumbags for ever thinking that he belonged to anybody, or run straight to you to find out if it was true. Did you really harbor feelings for him?

As more disturbing talk about him and other 'sexy' killers began to pollute the atmosphere, Wesker calmly took his leave without making a bloody scene and headed in the direction of his own realm. Gossip was inevitable. Constantly, no matter what the circumstances, there was always going to be people who talked behind others backs. He had learned long ago not to take what people thought of him into heart. Sure, some things were irritating and he hated being seen as nothing more than a sex attraction, but it is what it is. As long as people didn't act on their stupid feelings, he was fine.

Wesker had only been here a few weeks and countless times already survivors and even a few killers had tried to seduce him. Some of them would praise themselves while using lewd body language, some would straight up ask him if he wanted a 'real' partner, and some had gotten completely naked in an attempt to lure him in. It was safe to say that all those naughty attempts... Had failed.

You were among one of the only survivors who seemed to play right. You were quiet, concentrated and smart, and you never tried to seduce him. Chasing you more often than not served as a tremendous challenge and had him smirking with delight. That and he could tell that you were shy. The way his comments caused your face to light up with color and bashfulness, how you would become so distorted and clumsy and bump into things- he absolutely loved it. He wanted more.

And more he would have.

...

Going into upcoming weeks, Wesker admitted to becoming severely annoyed and impatient. Apparently you were as skilled at hiding in the external realm as you were inside of trials which made it virtually impossible to learn anything about you. He had tried venturing into the survivor woods, but other team mates of yours constantly tried to take up his time and attention when he seriously did not care what they had to say. Asking about you was futile and often got him frustrated reactions. Those imbeciles should know not to test him.

During trials he had gotten more cruel and assertive, abusing uroboros and nearly crushing the skulls of filthy, rotten survivors. He was getting quite fed up with this possessive/obsessive attitude everyone had towards him. And the one person he wanted to find seemed to no longer exist because these perverted idiots had to ruin everything for him. Ugh, it just made him so angry.

All he wanted was to learn more about you; the one appropriate, talented, sane person in this ridiculous hell.

But eventually the wait became worth it. When he finally got a lucky peek at you inside of a trial it was during a, to say the least, messed up moment. He had been on the way to check a generator and had caught the survivor known as Élodie kneeling in front of the hardly working device. Aside from her lacey underwear, she was completely naked.

Almost instantly the veins in Wesker's head throbbed to bursting point, and he was glaring in heavy dissatisfaction at the smirking woman who was moving her rear in obvious suggestion at him. Just as he was about to bring out uroboros, he saw movement from the corner of his eyes and carefully turned his head to see you. Yes, you.

You and your wide horrified eyes that were desperately trying to avert as you saw what was happening. The expression on your face was absolutely priceless. It was like you were a friendly neighbor who accidentally opened the door while their friends were having intimate time. The way you flinched, covered your face and began crouching away had Wesker throbbing with an idea.

"So... You really think that your body is good enough for me?" Wesker asked the question loud and clearly, his hand lifting outwards as he stared down at the half naked woman.

Élodie cocked her hips and puckered her lips in a smirk at the approaching man, "Baby, I 'know' it's good enough for you."

"How amusing that you speak so highly of yourself," Wesker grinned, shot out uroboros and shoved the woman's head back against the rough hill, "I'm not sorry to disappoint you, but the only body I'm interested in is the body that belongs to (y/n)."

Élodie screamed in pain, her body going nearly limp as soon as Wesker retracted uroboros. She tried to get away, but without any clothes or reliable recourse, she was sliced down within seconds. The darkly dressed killer wasted no time in perching the perverted woman on a hook before eagerly sprinting off in search of you.

Wesker refused to let this chance slip through his fingers. Once he realized that you were avoiding him, he began to slice up your other three team members until all that was left was you, Jake, and three broken generators. It took a few rounds of patrolling, but he finally caught you working on a generator in the distance.

Using uroboros, he flew up to you like a snake and, with a force that was far more gentle than what was used on the others, he shoved you against the brick wall. You cried out, expecting the sickness to immediately seep into your body whilst your heart pounded with fear and anticipation. Instead of getting sick, however, the uroboros keeping you pinned slowly inched away from your neck and chest leaving you to blink in confusion.

"If you have an ounce of intelligence, you will not run from me," Wesker breathed in what he wanted to believe was final relief, and he reached up to tear his glasses off because 'fuck' those glasses- they were preventing him from fully admiring his prize.

You stood there in your boring sweatpants, t-shirt and plain jacket, a look of confused horror on your flushed face and-and 'god', Wesker had never imagined that he could be this invested in someone who was so utterly average. Just the fact that almost ninety-five percent of your skin was a mystery to him made him vibrate with excitement. You were the untouched, demisexual survivor who never made deals with the killers and played by your own accord.

You were the survivor that he found himself completely unable to resist.

You, feeling horribly overwhelmed and uncertain of what to do, gazed around anxiously. You didn't know what to do, nor could you guess what exactly was going on. You had been trying to avoid Wesker ever since the other survivors kept bringing you down for asking about him. Having him this close all of the sudden after all that time... It almost made you start hyperventilating in distress. What would he do?

"You've been avoiding me," Wesker stated clearly, bearing down at you with vivid, orange eyes, "Why?"

You looked at him, his expression that of a hungry predator causing you to wince away in tremendous fear and paranoia. "I..." You thought back to everything the others told you and nearly started crying in humiliation, "I-I was just- I'm not avoiding you, I..."

"Did you hear what I said earlier?" Wesker asked, his entire body aching with need to put a cap on this ending so that you both may shed light on a new beginning.

You gaped at him, your eyes glistening with tears as you hesitated, "I-I... I did, but... I-I don't understand... Were you really telling the truth?"

Wesker breathed in, a large smile blooming across his face as he nodded, "Did I sound like I was telling the truth?"

"I..." You shook your head at him, gasping as you go to cover your head in the waves of denial and confusion and heartache, "B-but I'm just an ugly, stupid dud, I-I'm not good enough for you. The others-I... I..."

Ah, so this is why you were avoiding him. Doubt. That was understandable. At least you had just answered one of his many, silent questions; you were interested in him. "Call yourself what you would like, but that is not the way I see you," Wesker took a step forward, gently grabbed your wrists, and slowly pulled them away from your face, "You are talented, intelligent, and you dress in rather boring attire but I cannot deny being allured by it."

"Huh?" You blinked at him with wide, surprised eyes, your body twitching in shock.

It made Wesker grin as he reached up and gently brushed your cheek, "And you're irresistible when praised. Tell me (y/n)... Is that a weakness?"

You uttered a choked noise of embarrassment at him and tilted your heavily flustered face away in an attempt to hide. Absolutely precious, adorable, cute, beautiful... "So it is," Wesker chuckled and used a gloved hand to gently tilt your head back up, "How would you like to be praised by me on a more... 'intimate' level?"

"Y-you mean like a relationship... or just sex?" You asked, wincing whenever you looked up into his blistering reddish-orange eyes. Was this really happening?

Wesker bowed his head and hummed a chuckle, his chest nearly pressing against you as he leaned down and whispered beside your ear, his accent a low pur, "Why would I waste myself on a one night stand when I could be rewarded... With this."

New Alpha/Beta/Omega Story Idea With DBD

Basic summary: In the Entity's Realm, everyone is from a different dimension, and so that means everyone follows slightly different cultures, beliefs and traditions. The reader is an omega, and in their dimension omegas' are treated as equals amongst alphas'. They're used to being pampered, respected, and understood by the alphas'. However, in the Entity's Realm, the alphas' are far, far different from the ones in the reader's own dimension. Instead of treating omegas' as equals, they fight to dominate them, control them, and use them. Even the omegas' are different; unkempt, submissive and out of control, easily bending to the alphas' will. Unused to and terrified of these alternative alphas' and omegas', the reader struggles to find safety, justification and respect. Will any of the alphas' they meet try to understand their traditions and standards? Or will they only suffer like the rest of the oblivious omegas'?

Notes: So in a lot of stories out there, everyone has their own unique way of writing alpha/beta/omega concepts. I myself have tapped into and read a lot of these concepts, and for this story I wanted to dive into tradition and culture and how it effects everyone differently. Using dbd's Entity Realm is a great way to take advantage of dimensional aspects.

What killers will be considered as potential love interests for the reader? Hmm, I'm not entirely sure (I'm never sure about that stuff. You guys know that, lol).

Obviously I'm gonna say Herman because my Herman is a sappy, lovey-dovey gentleman.

Caleb? Caleb has the potential to be both a considerate gentleman and a controlling jerk based on his time line, but I'm willing to make the exception for him.

One of the idiot-boy trio. Frank, Danny or Ji-woon. Gotta have at least one of them. Help me decide if you want.

Maybe Wesker? Like maybe he's turned on by the challenge the reader brings by being a more superior omega, and he secretly likes that.

Philip is cute, and I bet he would love a relationship where he didn't have to be so hard at work all the time.

We also have Pinhead. He's very intelligent and can sense the good in people. Obviously he'd be interested in the reader.

And then I'm gonna say Freddy because it's a twist and unexpected and I love the thought of him being the nicest to the reader out of all the other alphas'.

I've already got this story underway. I'm just posting this to try to help keep my own chin up. I really wanna get this story finished and posted so that way I can share the whole thing with you my precious dears'. Let's see how much of a disaster it turns out to be, aye?

I need to write these three narcissistic, dangerous, intelligent A-holes in a fic together with a reader, like, soon.

Geez, just imagine the chaos.

Herman is the reader's primary care physician.

Hannibal is their psychiatrist.

And then Wesker can be their boss or something like that.

The reader is just trying to get by (definitely has suffered some kind of past trauma, possibly has a mental illness or maybe even some kind of disease. I don't know yet, but I'll find a way to make them unique), and they're going by without realizing that these three powerful men have feelings for them.

Imagine Hannibal learning that Wesker has something to do with the reader's stress, and so he goes to seek him out to kill and/or eat him only to discover that Wesker is much more intelligent and dangerous than he thought- and he too also has feelings for the reader. Oh, the irony.

Herman can be a step ahead of both A-hole 1 and 2 by using his professional, sappy charm to woo the reader into a dinner date or a walk in the park or something. (Writing this prince charming of a man is like drinking redbull- He gives me wings, baby!) And maybe one of the other two A-holes show up or do something dramatic to try and ruin their time. Hell, maybe Wesker and Hannibal work together to ruin the damn date, I don't know, but I'm bound to write something stupidly insane.

All three of them want the reader to themselves, but there's competition. What are they gonna do about each other without ultimately ruining the reader's happiness and trust? All three of them are extremely manipulative, so charming the reader is a breeze, but what about when the reader becomes overwhelmed because- hello!- their doctor, boss and psychiatrist are all each asking them on a date! Ahhhhhhh.

Gosh, the things I could do with this concept... I know, I know, I need to stop. I just figured that getting the idea out of my head this way would help me concentrate on updates that are actually important.

Thanks for listening to my goofy rambling, my loves. Maybe this idea could be something that blossoms into a story one of these days. We'll see.