I'd Like To Talk About Mr. Grumpy Sunglasses Man And What My Plans Are With Writing Him In The Future.

I'd like to talk about Mr. grumpy sunglasses man and what my plans are with writing him in the future.

So I've done research and Wesker seems like a pretty cool bad guy. He's arrogant, precise, observant and smart, and easily adapts to complicated situations. Just think about what he'd be like as a loving husband? Kind of dreamy, right? But we'll get to the lovey details in a minute.

I read as much fanfiction as I could with Wesker and I wasn't able to find much besides smut- including quite a bit of rape- which is fine, you know, I respect people's decisions to write however they desire. It's just not what I'm looking for. We all know that I'm the world's slowest burner when it comes to building relationships in my stories. My sap is thick, people. And Wesker could be a wonderful bad guy to write as an emotional supporter.

I think Wesker is the type of person to set high standards and expectations. He probably sees most people as mere ants beneath his feet. It would take something particularly special to gain his interest. Lucky for him, all of my reader inserts have been special. In the Dead By Daylight world, his variety of potential interests' is significantly lessened, and he won't have as much freedom to reign. He will have to calm down is attitude and start getting along with people for his own sake. No killing people at random, Mr. Sunglasses.

Because of his high standards and arrogance, I think Wesker would most likely be interested in a real challenge. Say a reader who is uniquely skilled during trials, quiet, and tries to stay away from him. This reader is unlike the other survivors and has great work ethic, respect, and intelligence. In a way he feels rivaled. He might even try to tease and/or flirt with the reader, but it won't have any effect that he knows of.

Due to past trauma, this reader is greatly introverted and doesn't set their bar too high. They prefer to stay away from people and not get involved with drama. Perhaps they're a bit awkward due to communication issues? Imagining Wesker being interested in them sure was one heck of a fantasy. But why did he keep showing so much interest in them? Talking to the other survivors for advice will only get them humiliated and turned down. Back into hiding they go!

Wesker will begin to grow impatient and frustrated with the reader's lack of reactions, but he's not giving up. There was something special about them, something unique and juicy and he wanted to find out what. Along the way, breaking their shell, he'll begin to fall in love. And that love will guide him into providing the reader with the care they've always deserved. Let's rehearse their vows!

And that's my interpretation on how Mr. Grumpy sunglasses works in an emotional support relationship. I really hope to write more with him in the future. We'll see how everything works out.

I write to:

- Say the things I can never say.

- Hear the things that I know no one will ever tell me.

- Release emotions.

- Feel emotions.

- Escape reality.

- And pretend that it's not my life that I am living but rather the fantasy life I've created with my own mind and my own words.

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."

Commission for EroismPro.

The wind blew through Lilian's hair, acting as a cooling force against the light flush that had crawled along her skin. Clouds in the sky took turns blocking out the brisk, hot sun, filling her with gratitude for the shadowed relief. A friend had dropped her off near the entrance to the MacMillan gates, and she somewhat timidly fiddled with her basket before welcoming herself in. There was a house not too far from the long, crispy lawn in which was graced with a cracked rock path down the middle. She smiled in familiarity, heart fluttering in anticipation at the thought of how close she was to seeing one of her closest friends. Evan.

She wondered if he had spotted her yet, Lilian bowed her head and bit her lip while walking down the rock path. Internally she fought against the urge to smooth out her ruffled dress or pat the back of it to make certain everything was alright and as it should be. Would Evan like how she was dressed? Would he appreciate what she had brought with her for him to snack on? Lilian lifted her head and gazed at the fields, spotting the mines not too far away. Considering what day it was, she figured that there weren't too many people working today, but Evan had once said that his father was kind of a tyrant when it came to over exerting his own workers. While she would very much like to meet the primary owner of the Estate, she couldn't deny that it made her nervous.

The minutes passed somewhat quickly, and Lilian was once again biting her lip as she walked up the rickety steps to the small house. Hoisting the basket against her hip slightly, she peered up at the faded white door and took in a deep breath, her cheeks warming slightly despite her mental protests. With her free hand she quietly knocked on the door, politely stepping back a few feet in case Evan decided to come out. From the inside she could hear the distinct sound of what appeared to be a chair scooting across worn tile, and large footsteps following shortly after.

Seconds later and a figure appeared behind the tinted screen to the old door, and Lilian felt herself grin uncontrollably whenever the doorknob began to rattle. "Well," Came his deep, rich voice, blazing with casual welcome and enlightenment, "Look who finally 'cided to show up."

"Hi Evan," Lilian took in the man in front of her, eyes tracing along the sight of his tough work boots, sturdy jeans, tan button-up and striped suspenders. As always he was the center picture of being brilliantly attractive. His dark undercut was lightly tassled, his wood brown eyes were sunken, focused and outlined with small circles underneath and yet still they managed to shine with kindness. When she gazed down at the curve of his perfect smile, she looked away slightly and swayed, fingers fumbling with the basket she carried. "I-I'm sorry if I'm running late..."

Evan chuckled softly and pushed the door open further, his voice teasing and light-hearted, "Don't be, darlin', I'm jus' messin' with ya. I knew you'd make it. Probably take a damn tornado to stop ya."

"You really think a silly tornado would stop me?" Lilian giggled back, happily taking the polite entry and going to step into the small living room. Immediately the stiff, old wooden floor croaked beneath her feet, but it was a welcoming tune. When she first visited, it had been a hard pill to swallow seeing the vast arrangement of stuffed animals mounted on the wall, but eventually she learned to look past it all. Anything was worth it to spend time with him.

"Probably not," Evan lingered at the door, his head poking out so that he could look around.

She raised a brow at him, noting that it seemed as if he were searching for something. "Were you expecting more company?" She asked, curious about who else he would invite if anyone at all.

"Oh... Oh, no," Evan shrugged himself away from the outdoors and went to shut the door with a careful shove, "No, it ain't that, I was jus'... Jus'- nevermind. It ain't important."

As Evan turned around, he offered her a warm smile, his eyes tired and yet filled with joy. "Come on in here," He gestured in the direction of the kitchen.

"Are you sure everything's alright?" Lilian asked just in case he was stressed out about something she could possibly help with. Deep down she understood that he was always kind of exhausted physically and some times mentally. If there was any way that she could help, she would.

"Yeah, I'm sure," He led her into the kitchen a ways before turning around, his brows kinking upwards when he saw her proudly present the basket to him. "Thought I told ya not to bring nothin'," He gave her a parenting stare.

"But I wanted to make you something nice," Lilian protested, waving the basket around suggestively.

"I thought I told you not to bring nothin'," He repeated causing her to roll her eyes with a giggle, his hand reaching out to take the basket.

"Well I did so you might as well enjoy it... Killjoy," She muttered underneath her breath.

"I heard that," Evan mumbled while setting the basket on the kitchen table and going to lift up the small cloth covering it.

"oh-uh, I said 'oh boy'," Lilian quickly interjected with spry confidence, "Oh boy, look what I brought!"

"Mhm," Evan pointed to her a look of tight disbelief and non-amusement.

Lilian gazed around innocently, heat blooming in her cheeks in hopes that he would like what she had brought. He had eaten her cooking before, but this was a serving she had not yet graced him with, and she had her fingers crossed that he would enjoy it.

"Muffins, huh?" Evan gave her a shocked, jovial smile, his eyes quickly returning to the basket so that he could neatly pluck one out, wasting no time whatsoever bringing it to his lips to take a bite. "Mm."

"Yeah, I've never made them before, and I remember you saying how much you like them so... Tadah!" Lilian moved her hands together, cheeks rosy pink as she watched him messily devour the small treat. "Do... Do you like it?"

"Mm," Evan covered his mouth as he chewed, crumbs raining all over his shirt. He briskly lifted a hand to wipe himself clean only to spill more as he headed towards the window in front of the sink, "Mm...."

Lilian giggled at his inability to say anything as he seemed determined on finishing the serving before actively answering. "No worries, take your time," She shied towards the table and went to organize the innards of her basket, modestly pulling out a muffin for herself.

"They're incredible, darlin'," Evan said before stuffing the rest of his serving into his mouth, hands smacking together over the sink. "Best I've had in a long time." He reached out and grabbed a large plate by the stove, using both hands to carefully carry it to the counter.

"Thank you," Lilian hid her face by turning around and pretending like a picture of the Hunt was the most interesting thing in the room, mouth nibbling shyly on the muffin.

"An' thank you for bringin' em. I needed somethin' a little sweet to brighten this day, well... Besides you," He cleared his throat after setting the plate down, fingers tapping bluntly against the table a few times before pinching the cloth covering the ceramic and pulling. He took in a deep breath and said, "Hope you're hungry. I know it ain't as good as muffins, but... Here."

Lilian scoffed, holding her muffin close while wandering closer to the plate. "I bet it's better than muffins," She grinned, gazing down at the plate and seeing a vast arrangement of sandwiches- many of which were made from different varieties of meat and bread. "Ooh!"

"Told ya not to bring nothin'," Evan huffed while grabbing another muffin and scooting a chair out, sighing as he plopped himself down. "I feel like I could sit for the rest'a my damn life, this shit hurts so bad."

"You shouldn't let him treat you like this, Evan," Lilian complained pointedly while taking a seat in the chair beside him, carefully setting down her muffin and going to pluck up one of the sandwiches. Lifting it outwards, she smiled and mumbled pleasantly, "Thank you."

"Not a problem, darlin'... Not a problem," Evan sagged back against the chair, happily enjoying her muffins without a care in the world. "What else ya plan on cookin' for me?"

"Are you suggesting that I'm your maid now?" She asked seconds before taking a bite out of one of the sandwiches, her eyes giving him a playful wink.

Evan pursed his lips and gazed around mindlessly, "Well... You did make these for me. If anyone suggested it, it'd be you..."

Lilian proceeded to give him a flat stare, her lips held thin and unamused. Evan peeked at her, covering his mouth to fight against laughing less he spit food all over the place. "Well, just so you know, what I decide to cook 'if' I decide to cook- I'm reconsidering it now- is a surprise, thank you," She stated rightfully and took a bite out of the sandwich. It was touching that he went out of his way to prepare this for her.

"Gotta leave a man hangin', huh?" Evan chuckled and stood up suddenly, swiping his crumb covered lips with his thumb while turning around and heading in the direction of the window again.

"A surprise is a surprise," Lilian smiled, her stomach rumbling pleasantly at the taste of the sandwich and the fact that Evan had specially prepared it for her. That and the poor thing hadn't eaten all day.

As Evan gazed outside, shoulders stiff and head turning in many directions, Lilian began wondering what it was that had her friend so on edge. "Is everything alright, Evan?" She asked, blinking as she watched him shuffle around in front of the sink.

"Everything's fine, darlin', jus' gettin' ya some water is all," Evan spoke smoothly, wiping his hands off on a cloth before reaching down to pour some fresh well water into a faded white, metal mug. "Hope ya don't mind well tang."

Lilian took another bite of her sandwich, clearing her throat, "You know I don't."

"Then why ya complain 'bout it so much?" Evan teased as he brought two mugs over, grinning whenever he received an irritated glare from the woman who was unfortunately too busy chewing to argue back. "Stay here. I'll be right back in a minute, m'k?"

Lilian wanted to ask him where he was going and if he was positive that everything was alright, but instead she felt her stomach warm with reassurance whenever Evan reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder, offering a soft smile. She smiled back, cheeks filling with light heat as flutters rapidly took place inside her heart. How could she deny that kind, handsome expression? Nodding her head, Lilian watched as Evan stepped away and headed towards the living room, the brisk sound of the door opening and closing thus leaving her in silence.

She sat patiently for a few minutes, curiously gazing around the room while eating her sandwich. There were a lot of classical yet scratched/worn paintings on the wall, along with stuffed animals and the occasional mine trinket. Floral cloths decorated the counters as well as the light wooden table. Lilian herself felt as though there should be a tad bit more color to the place, but she supposed that it was mostly men who lived here anyways.

As a few more minutes passed, Lilian finished her sandwich, drank some water and eventually got bored enough that she stood from her seat and made way for the window. Casually she peeked out, trying to see if she could spot Evan anywhere. To her misfortune, she saw no sight of the mine worker, only the dirt driveway and shaggy garden. Humming, she then decided to wander around the kitchen, stopping to flip over turned utensils or fold a messy rag.

By the end of the counter lay a set of boarded shelves covered in newspapers and old mail. Lilian hummed in curiosity and went to look over them, her eyes taking in the spare pencils, pens and frayed paintbrushes. With careful fingers she scooted some of the supplies aside and went to scoop up a torn newspaper, immediately reading over particularly boring headlines and business articles. This paper had to belong to Evan's father.

Upon gazing at the door, Lilian's eyes accidentally caught sight of something laying beneath the newspaper. Folding the torn parchment, she mindlessly sat it aside and bent over, a small breath of surprise passing through her lips at what she saw. Buried underneath all the various newspapers and supplies was what appeared to be lemon yellow canvas papers-all of which sported different kinds of pencil drafts and drawings. One of them, Lilian realized with widening eyes and frozen fingers, was a drawing of her wearing the same dress in which she wore the last time she visited. It was even painted a little, giving off the familiar color. Was this supposed to be her? Had Evan drawn these?

Lilian slowly grabbed the paper and lifted it up with the finest care, her fingertips tracing along the delicate pencil detailing and paint. It was so pretty. She blushed, genuinely questioning deep within her heart if this really was her and if Evan had created it. If so, then why? Why hadn't he told her about any of this before? Lilian looked down, gazing at all of the other paintings and noticing that they were all of different things; birds, the mines, stairs, and household objects. Clearly he enjoyed what he did.

Having felt a severe rush of anticipation attack her, Lilian about squealed in alarm whenever the loud clearing of a throat could be heard followed by brisk footsteps. "Thought I told ya to stay put."

I just got this comment on one of my archive fics, "pls stop righting jeffrey i hate him n he ruins your fics."

🤚And now I am going to solemnly swear to always write Jeffrey as the reader's best friend or as a potential love interest in every single dbd story that I write. Thank you very much and have a good day.

Each and every single one of my reader inserts are either traumatized or emotionally damaged in some unique way. I've covered disabilities and different kinds of past abuse, but I'd like to list some new ideas I'd like to try for future stories.

Blackmail. A reader who has accidentally done something wrong or been involved with something big and someone knows about it and uses and manipulates them into doing what they want. The reader will probably suffer abuse and neglect. They will be very stressed out, anxious and paranoid. I'd probably write it as a killer who does the blackmailing since killers' are stronger and more terrifying in general. The reader will have to try and communicate with another killer for silent help.

Victim of jealousy. Let's face it, jealousy sucks, especially when you haven't done anything wrong at all and a random person decides to treat you bad all because they're jealous of you. Some times this behavior results in being a severe victim of lies, rumors, and abuse. For a story, I'd say a situation where the reader is unaware that a high titled killer likes them, and a survivor who secretly likes that killer begins to grow jealous and hateful towards the reader.

Hate. A reader who has suffered so much pain, betrayal and abuse in their life has hardened to the point that they are cruel to every person who tries to interact with them. They refuse to trust anyone or get close to anyone. They are fiercely independent and introverted. This attitude/personality will actually gain them the respect and interest of a killer who finds them oddly attractive and wants to get closer to them. Good luck to whoever that is, lol.

Overworked. A reader who constantly abuses themselves by not getting enough sleep, not eating enough, and stressing their body and mind out by working too much. Possibly they are lonely and don't have any friends. They keep to their self and don't try to talk to anyone else. A killer can take notice to them and grow the desire to bond and eventually take care of them.

Cancer. A reader who has suffered from a painful kind of cancer and had been expecting to die any time before being sucked into the Entity's world. This reader is bald from chemotherapy, has experienced dozens of surgeries, and has been in the hospital way too long. They've had to fight alone, mostly, and are suffering from depression and slight ptsd. The killers can make their efforts to live feel deeply appreciated and worth it.

And those are just a few problems I can think of that people commonly suffer. If you have any recommendations or ideas, please feel free to share. Anything you offer can become pure story content one of these days. I'm always looking for ways to create new plots!