Dead By Daylight Fanfiction - Tumblr Posts

Jeffrey Hawk/The Clown taking care of a reader on their period.

He knew there was something up. Last night you had tossed and turned for hours on end, even going so far as to leave the bed and lay on the couch to "not bother him as much". Pfft. You should know better than to think that way. The only thing that bothered Jeffrey was when you made wrong and unnecessary assumptions about him. It was as if you expected the worst out of him. But he wouldn't get frustrated with you over this for he knew exactly what was going on.

Jeffrey had woken up before you, hauling himself out of bed to go fix breakfast and watch TV. He knew that, after such a difficult night, you needed the rest, and it was best to let you recuperate. The day could start later. However, on a trip to the restroom, he decided to stop and check in on you, his grey-blue eyes taking in the sight of your uncovered body bathing in the morning glow of sunshine penetrating through the curtains. You were so beautiful and cute, your mouth parted open, hair messy, arms strung out and feet tangled in the blankets. Your peaceful aura brought joy to his broken world.

He continued to gaze at you in simple admiration until the sight of something dark glistened within the morning sun. He huffed in suspicion and waltzed into the room, his eyes squinting as he looked down at the splotches of red in between your thighs. Oh boy. He sighed, noting that your underwear was soaked as well as the sheets beneath you. Welp, looks like you were going to be boss of the house for a while.

Minor aggravation coursed through Jeffrey's nerves as he quietly stomped off to start you a warm bath. He wasn't aggravated with you or the situation by any means, but he did have a feeling that this was going to be a problem for you. You were already so skittish, insecure and doubtful around him in general, constantly apologizing and panicking over the simplest things. Waking up to this? He just knew that you were probably going to freak out and overreact. You might cry too. Ugh... He hated seeing you cry.

After starting the water and grabbing a spare towel, Jeffrey returned to the bedroom and approached you on the bed. Carefully he seated himself on the mattress, his head turning back to take in your slumbering form. Dang it. He really didn't want to disturb you. He sighed, his hand reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. "Hey... Hey, bunny, wake up," He mumbled, stroking your cheek. "Wake up now."

"Mm?" Came your endearing reply, little, tired whimpers filling the air as you roused, eyes blinking open goofily. "Jeffrey?" You whispered, your sleepy tone just so adorable and sweet. He could eat you up in a heart beat.

"Hey bunny," He coughed a little while leaning down, his hand brushing your cheek before allowing you to take his hand, "How're you feeling?"

You blinked gorggily and hummed, your mouth opening with a yawn, "Mmm... Still tired." As you began to stretch, Jeffrey suddenly released your hand and went to place a palm on your thigh, stilling you into confusion, "What-"

"Try not to move too much, m'k?" He whispered in a somewhat hushed voice, his palms rubbing soothing circles into your thighs as he tried to pull a funny face, "I think the captain here's sailing 'cross the red sea."

"Huh?" You rasp in confusion at his confusing joke before the familiar terms hit you at bullet speed, and you were jerking yourself upwards far enough you could look down between your legs. And that's when the horror settled in.

"Now, now," Jeffrey began, pointing a firm expression your way before you started going haywire. "Don't you dare go off them rails, ya hear? This ain't nothin' to worry about, got it?"

"Oh no," You gasp, you're conscience overrun with mortification. You had started your period. You had started your period on Jeffrey's bed. How disgusting could you be? And he had caught you. He was right here in front of you witnessing it. Oh God, he must be furious. You had contaminated his personal belongings with your nasty human filfth, and now he was probably going to throw you out like the unleashed dog you were. "I... I..." Your eyes began to water.

"Damn it, (y/n), I said don't worry," Jeffrey sighed in visual frustration and stood up, his big arms lifting outwards towards you. "Up," He demanded, wiggling his fingers at you, "Come on."

"I-I'm sorry," You whined, one hand going to cover your eyes while the other clenched up in the sheets, "I'm so sorry..."

"For God's sake, quit apologizin'. I ain't mad; you know that," He grumbled, tossing the towel at you. "Here, wrap yourself with this. I got the bath runnin' for ya. Hurry an' get in there before it overflows."

You took the towel with a small speckle of uncertainty, your watery eyes looking at him with sad wonder. He wasn't mad? And he had made you a bath? You sniffled, your humiliated, terrified heart scrambling around in a ball of worry inside your chest. "Thank you, Jeffrey," You whisper, unable to face him as you grab the towel with shaky hands and go to wrap it around your waist. "I-I promise I-I'll clean this up. N-new sheets and everything, I promise, I-"

As soon as you stood up, Jeffrey pressed two fingers against your lips and wheezed, his scowl small yet teasing, "Do I needa' glue your mouth shut?"

You bowed your head at him in shame. Jeffrey sighed in huge exaggeration and pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you and holding you against his side, "Quit mopin', alright? The only crime you've committed is raisin' my water bill."

You scoffed, glaring at him from where your face lay happily smooshed against his pecks. He chuckled and ruffled your messy hair playfully, "I need'a redecorate anyway. Same ol' sheets get boring to look at all the time."

"I really don't mind cleaning it up," You whimpered, gazing at your bloody mess with shame and misery, "I know I'm disgusting..."

"And I don't mind spankin' your ass ya say somethin' like that one more time," Jeffrey growled, glaring unhappily at you in the hopes that you would understand that he wasn't in the mood to tolerate your obnoxious doubts and insecurities. Whenever you looked away in further despair, he sighed, hugged you tight and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your forehead. "Get in there b'fore the tub overflows. Leave your clothes on the sink. Got it, sunshine?"

"Yeah," You replied quietly, your body absorbing his tender affections as he held you close for a few seconds longer.

"Now scat," Jeffrey gave you a small push, ushering you away so that he could take care of the blankets and sheets.

Stuck in a cloud of humiliation, you followed his orders and went to the bathroom, abruptly turning off the facet water before shedding your shirt, shorts and underwear. You sat the stained clothing on the sink as he requested and went to dip yourself into the fresh, clean tub, loving satisfaction buzzing through you as you enjoy the soothing temperature. Jeffrey always knew just what you liked. You were lucky to have him.

"Wastin' my water..." Jeffrey sighed in exasperation as he entered the bathroom to grab your dirty clothes, his eyes lingering on your shy figure lying cozily in the tub. You were so damn beautiful to him, even on your bad days.

"Really?" You groaned, knowing that he was obviously teasing you. He was always cracking silly jokes, trying to make you feel guilty about random things you would never feel guilty about. Over the months you had grown used to it, simply rolling your eyes every time he teased, but you wouldn't deny the fondness you felt towards his ridiculous jokes.

Jeffrey chuckled and asked, "Want me to cook ya breakfast?"

You fumbled nervously, unconsciously feeling bad for nodding, "Yes please?"

"What'a ya want?" Jeffrey coughed, purposely playing around with your dirty underwear and earning himself an attack of water being flicked his way. "Hey, I said no wastin' water. Jesus, you're tryin' to ring me dry."

"Oh stop it," You bark, rolling your eyes. See? A tease. You smiled at him and requested what you desired eating for breakfast, your heart drumming with content as he agreed to have it ready by the time you got dressed.

Before he left the bathroom, he made sure that you had everything you needed. Clean clothes, pads, your hairbrush and a fresh towel. He also brought you a cup of your favorite morning beverage along with some menstrual medication. Later on he would go to the store to stock up on some more of your monthly needs, but you might have to write it all down on paper for him. He wouldn't make you go anywhere when you were feeling like this.

After you were finished with your bath, you got dressed and did your morning bathroom routine before making way for the kitchen, the sight of the fresh bed sheets sending a warm tremor through your heart. How could you ever want for anyone greater? Did a greater person exist? The smell of breakfast outlined your precious feelings as you wandered into the kitchen, your fingers pressing together over your aching belly as you approached the man sitting at the dining table.

"Feelin' better?" Asked Jeffrey, his mouth twitching as he took one last drag off a cigarette before crushing it in the ash bowl.

"Mhm, thank you," You almost came close to apologizing again but paused immediately on account of the fact that Jeffrey did not like it when you apologized too much. So you settled for walking up beside him, your hands going to wrap around his shoulders, your face forming into a pout, "My tummy still hurts."

"Well tell it to stop," Jeffrey wheezed while waving the lingering smoke away as he pulled you close to him, one large hand slipping up the front of your shirt.

You instantly uttered a deep, quiet moan of bliss, the feel of Jeffrey's large, warm, magnetizing hand rubbing your tender, aching flesh causing your toes to curl in bodily satisfaction. It felt so good. You sighed, hugging him against your chest, your throat nearly purring from how good it felt, the love he gave you. He kissed your neck, his hot breath sending a shudder through you.

"Darn thing, makin' me waste all this water and gas," Jeffrey grumbled, chuckling whenever you pushed on his head a little in frustration. "Can't even watch my favorite show. Know why?"

"Because I'm dis-"

"Cause I already got it right here in my arms," Jeffrey cut you off, one arm tightening around you in a manner of fondness, love and protection. "Best show I ever did see." You melted at that, your body sagging into him as if you were perfectly molded for each other. Inside your chest your heart fluttered in madness, consumed by the loving attention he continued to shower you with.

Jeffrey finished cooking you and himself breakfast, continously teasing and making ridiculous jokes. You were beginning to feel better although the aches and pressure still greatly lingered. Eating helped a bit, but the cramps restrained you from properly enjoying the delicious meal. A few times you had complained up until the point Jeffrey grabbed your mostly empty plates, scraped them and threw them in the sink before dragging you to the living room sofa, and from there he proceeded to do one of your favorite things ever.

Once Jeffrey had the TV turned on to his desired channel, he grabbed his soda and sat down on the couch, steadily reclining back into the beat-in cushions. From there he gazed up at you and shook his head in confusion, his arms gesturing you forward. "Well come on," He ushered.

Blushing, you timidly walked forward, your body erupting with a small tremor of excitement as you stopped before him. Gazing away, you carefully put a knee on the couch on one side of his thigh before quickly following suite with the other, straddling his strong thighs between your own smaller ones. "That's it, bunny," Jeffrey rubbed the back of your head, his hands gently coaxing you into leaning against him.

And you did.

With a happy whimper, you leaned forward, your belly and chest pressing against Jeffreys and leaving you with just enough room to lay your head against his thick, warm pecks. And yes, it was precisely as amazing as it sounded. Forget hot water bottles. Forget heating pads. Forget massager guns. Why would you need any of those things when you had literally all you could ever want and more right here?

You sighed pleasantly, your cramps feeling significantly less destructive while being snuggly pressed against him. "I gotcha," He whispered against the top of your head, kissing you as his hands caressed and massaged the areas of your body he knew often ached the worst. "I gotcha."

And he would always have you.

My fanfic readers' point of view on the killers' for each of my stories.

When a Survivor Bullies reader pov: The killers saved me from bullying.

Fate of Broken Roads reader pov: The two deadliest killers in prison befriended me.

Battle of The Imaginary Minds reader pov: My daughter befriended a killer and now I'm supposed to live with him'

Alas We Must Speak reader pov: Look, I just wanna be alone, but apparently I gotta babysit two of the dumbest killers imaginable.

Embracing The Realm of Control reader pov: What more do you want me to say? We're all naked! Naked, you hear me?! *faints*

My Own Exit Gate reader pov: Suicide, death, lies, hate, grass, knives, depression, suicide, death, lies, hate-

We Created a Halocline reader pov: Apparently I have to be mated to finally get some peace. Seriously doubt it's going to happen though.

The L Perspective reader pov: Omg, killers are so funny! I love them! I want to be friends with them all! *smothers Frank*

The Underdogs Great Stand reader pov: The underdog killer group made me feel less alone and gave me a home when no one else would.

My Gelastic Flower reader pov: The killers helped me with my epilepsy and accepted my flaws, though they could have been a little smoother about it.

Miracle of The Moonlight reader pov: The killers all brutally punished me because of lies that weren't true. Now they wanna lick my feet for forgiveness.

Reverse The Dancing Knights reader pov: I saved the killers' from captivity and now I'm their emotional support animal.

Now That's a Cut! reader pov: Got my heart broken for being asexual, but Jeffrey used his magic to mend it back together.

My Saddest Journey reader pov: The killers want to protect me from my own despair, but I don't trust any of them.

Beautifully Blind reader pov: The survivors hate me because of my disabilities, but the killers stood by my side and helped me understand this world.

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!

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.

Hello loves! So I've been writing cute little drabbles here on Tumblr about the killers taking care of a reader on their period. The layout is fairly simple. Basically the reader and killer live in a house together (not in the Dead By Daylight realm) and are already in a relationship. So far I've written about Jeffrey and Herman.

And I'd like to give you loves a chance to vote for who I should write next. Down below is a list of killers I'm willing to write.

Michael Myers

Evan MacMillan

Frank Morrison

Caleb Quinn

Bubba Sawyer

Freddy Krueger

Rin Yamaoka

Sally Smith

Julie Kostenko

Jason Voorhees

Pyramid Head/The Executioner

Pinhead

Max Thompson

Ji-Woon Hak

The drabbles will be simple and sweet. Romantic but not smutty. As always, they're for emotional support. Depending on the killer, some of them will be silly, serious or sappy. I hope you'll enjoy.

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?

Killer reactions to a legally blind reader who had their glasses stolen from them during a trial. (Part one).

Notes: non-binary reader. Warnings for minor, non-graphic violence and injuries.

...

Frank

He found your glasses by an unfinished generator and picked them up. Why were these here? Didn't you need them?

"David? David, give them back. This isn't funny." He heard you say from a distance.

Frank followed the direction of your panicked calls and soon found you stumbling along the trees, your arms out and eyes harshly squinted. Those imbecile team mates of yours must have stolen your glasses. Welp....

Time to give them back.

"Missing something?" He said teasingly, stopping behind you.

You gasped and whipped around, squinting your eyes and asking anxiously, "Who-whose there?"

"Oh, you know, just the delivery boy," Frank walked forward, grabbed your hand and swiftly placed the glasses inside. Then he stepped back and watched as you quickly struggled to put them on, your body going rigid when your eyes adjusted and you saw exactly who it was that returned your glasses to you.

Behind his mask, Frank smirked, amused by the expression of utter disbelief, shock and fear on your adorable face. You were frozen, unable to move as you stared at him as if waiting for something to happen.

He took a few steps closer to you causing you to flinch and whimper in fear. "Shouldn't I get a 'thank you'?" He asked, tilting his head expectantly.

You nodded quickly, saying in a mixture of fear and gratitude, "Th-thank you... very much."

Hmp. Man, you were cute. Frank lifted his hand out, grabbed an edge of your glasses and gently adjusted them. "You're welcome," He said pleasantly, brushing your cheek with a knuckle before turning away to resume the trial.

Caleb

He saw your glasses fall from Meg's hand when he shot her, and he picked them up a few seconds later wondering why she had them in the first place. If he heard correctly, you couldn't see anything without them. So why did Meg have them?

Caleb found out the answer when he saw you struggling to work on a generator. When you heard his footsteps, you anxiously stood up and asked, "Meg? I-is that you? Please, give me my glasses back, I need them."

"Oh, thems 'yir' glasses I got 'ere?" Caleb couldn't help but to tease.

He watched with a chuckle as recognition and then horror bloomed across your face, and you gasped brokenly, turning away to try and feel for an escape. But you were boxed in by the generator, the pillar, and him.

With no other alternative, you hunched in on yourself, shaking in fear while awaiting whatever horrid torment he had in mind for you. "Well hey now, don't go gettin' all scared on me," Caleb set his gun down and stepped closer to you, "Ya want yir second eyes back?"

You whimpered, nodding nervously, "Y-yes... Please?"

"Hold still then," Caleb examined the glasses before going to gently slide them back onto your face. He stayed standing in front of you, eager to see your reaction, "There. That better for ya, sugar?"

He watched as you touched the glasses as if they were a foreign object, your lashes fluttering as you look at him with awe and disbelief. "Thank you," You whispered so softly he barely heard you.

Caleb snickered playfully, leaning closer and mumbling lowly, "This mean I get a reward?"

Bubba

He saw you bumping into walls right after Jake took off sprinting in the opposite direction, and he muttered in suspicion while making his way towards you. At the sound of his chainsaw, you cried in panic and attempted to get away only to trip and fall down.

Bubba squealed in concern, immediately setting aside his chainsaw and hammer so that he could kneel down and help you back up. He chirped in confusion when he saw the lack of glasses on your face, your squinting eyes outlining your dilemma.

"Just kill me," You whined hopelessly, "Th-they took my glasses. I can't see... Just kill me, please."

They stole your glasses? What monsters! Bubba squealed loudly in remorse, his hands patting your back and shoulders as he guided you to sit against the wall. Muttering lowly, he caressed your head and patted your shoulder as a silent command to stay put.

Grabbing his chainsaw and hammer, Bubba took off in search for your glasses. He was angry, and it didn't take him long to kill people whenever he was angry. Within fifteen minutes he had slaughtered the other three survivors, retrieved your glasses, and returned to your side.

Bending down, Bubba carefully placed your glasses back on your face, grinning big in endearment. You were so precious! What Jake did was mean. He squealed, grabbing your hands and helping you up.

"Thank you, Bubba," You say gratefully.

Bubba squealed and hugged you, fondly nuzzling the top of your head. Then he reached down, intersected your hands and began guiding you down the hall. Let's go find you the hatch!

Jeffrey

He witnessed your glasses fall from Nea's hand when he threw her on the hook, and he picked them up with a raised brow. "Ya steal these from (y/n)?" He asked in a dangerous tone.

Nea's answer didn't satisfy him, and let's just say she ended up eviscerated. Afterwards, Jeffrey spent a lot of time hunting you down, cursing when he couldn't find you.

Eventually, he did catch you hiding in a locker. When he wrenched the doors open, he took in the sad sight of you crying in fear and misery, your hands covering your face. "This ain't no way to greet ol' Jeffrey, is it?" He asked, licking his lips.

The way you sniffled and cried harder made him grunt in dissatisfaction. "Here," He nudged your glasses against your arm, "Put them on. Ya ain't no fun when ya can't see."

"Huh?" You blinked in shock, blindly grabbing your glasses and staring at him breathlessly, "You... You're?"

"Waitin' for some appreciation? Yeah, I think I am," Jeffrey huffed, standing back and watching as you slid your glasses on, looking at him shyly. God, you were delectable.

"Thank you," You nodded in visual appreciation, albeit still terrified, "I... I'm sorry they did that..."

"Ain't no reason apologizin' to me," Jeffrey coughed and allowed you enough room to exit the locker. "Besides... Who'd I be not to help my favorite little snack?"

You gasped when Jeffrey grabbed your hand and lifted it to his mouth, a shudder vibrating through you as he slid his lips across his favorite finger of yours. You blushed heavily, rushing away flustered when he let you go.

Herman

He saw you struggling to seal the wound on your shoulder and soon noticed that you didn't have your glasses. Rumor had it that you were legally blind, and every other time he encountered you, you always had your glasses.

Unleashing his mouth guards, Herman walked closer to you and asked gently, "Miss/Mr. (y/n), where are your glasses?"

"O-ow," You whimpered in pain after messing up patching your shoulder, your body shaking as you braced for an attack, "They were stolen."

"By who?" Herman stopped in front of you, setting down his weapon.

"Yui," You answer sadly.

"Here. May I help you?" Herman kneeled down, skillfully ignoring the Entity as he helped wrap your wounded shoulder. "I apologize for her misbehavior. Should I find your glasses, I will return them to you."

"Wh... Why?" You whispered, squinting your worthless eyes at him, "Why are you helping me?"

Herman didn't answer until he was done bandaging your wound, his eyes glowing pink as he gazed upon you, "What kind of man would I consider myself to be to take advantage of you in such a way?"

As your eyes went wide at his words, Herman stood, grabbed his weapon and briefly promised to return if he was successful in finding your glasses.

After about ten minutes when you were on a generator, Herman handed you your glasses and nodded at your thankful gesture before taking off in a different direction leaving you smiling warmly at his kindness.

Michael

He was in the distance stalking whenever he witnessed Feng steal your glasses and run off leaving you searching helplessly for anchorage. That no good traitor. She made the wrong decision treating you this way.

Leaving you be, Michael hunted down Feng and killed her. Once he realized that she didn't have your glasses, he went and killed the other two survivors but to no avail. Apparently none of them had your glasses.

On his way through the fields searching for you, Michael spotted your glasses broken and shattered on the ground. Guess he wouldn't be returning them after all.

Pinpointing your confused location, Michael marched up to you and peered down at your flinching, helpless figure. As soon as you realized that he wasn't going to harm you, you timidly asked, "Michael?"

Upon confirmation, Michael reached down and grabbed your wrist in a gentle but firm grip. You gasped and tensed up, but otherwise did not fight. "Wh-what's going on?" You whimpered, stumbling in whatever direction he led you.

Michael, unable to respond, simply continued to guide you to the hatch. Those insolent team mates of yours sure were quite the unreliable losers. He had fun killing them. It was a shame that you couldn't see. You might have liked the revenge he conjured for you.

Reaching the hatch, Michael let you go, smirking behind his mask when you grabbed his sleeve and bashfully said, "Thank you... Thank you so much."

Hello, I have been following your work for a long time, and every time I read your fan fiction with a sinking heart. The way you convey emotions, feelings, character of the characters is just perfect! And I have read your "My Saddest Journey" more than five times.

I would like to ask, if it's not difficult for you, to write some Headcannons on this fan fiction.

I'm not insisting, sorry in advance for the trouble, I'm just a little in love ❤️

Hi murmiss. I would like to say, first, that I am sorry for denying your request in the beginning. "My Saddest Journey" is a very sensitive topic for me and when I'm asked about it I tend to get emotional. But! I decided to go ahead and provide you with some headcanons. I hope they satisfy you.

...

First: How do Frank, Ji-woon and Danny feel after everything that happened?

Well they all feel differently. Ji-woon is mostly in the fog and doesn't think much about it. Frank is pouty and very grudgemental towards the reader for a number of reasons, and he may stand to cause some unfortunate trouble in the future. As for Danny- oh, Danny. After seeing how bad the reader has it- and after having a private, sneaky conversation with them- he develops an attraction towards them, a desire to protect them and claim them as his own. But too bad! The reader doesn't like him. Can he fix that though? We'll see.

...

How does papa Evan feel?

After seeing just how bad the reader is effected, Evan asks Freddy to share what memories of theirs he witnessed, and he realizes a few things. (Plus Herman gave him a very lengthy lecture about how he would wrestle him if he was mean to the reader again). Evan will want to right his wrongs and get to know the reader better.

But do you know how difficult that will be? The reader does not trust him at all. In fact they're so scared to go around him that they more or less entice the Dredge to show up thus causing more bad memories and chaos. Evan is going to have to approach this reader as if they were an abused cat. (Gentle Evan is the best Evan). Once he can get them to talk and share their similarities, there will be fluff and comfort.

...

The reader opens up faster to the father figures than they do the love interests. This is meant to be practical and funny, but also an indicator of their trauma. Let's use Herman for example because he's head over heels for the reader, and he really is trying his hardest to charm them, but all he gets is polite, cold shoulders in response. And then there's Evan and all he has to do is pat their head and they instantly melt into his arms. Screw you Evan! Kidding, we love our papa bear.

...

The introduction of Wesker. This will happen much later on but it will be big. Not only will we get to see a completely different side of the reader, but so will Wesker who pretty much gets his arse beat during a trial with them. He's obviously interested after that and wants to learn more about them. The reader picks up on his naughty energy and politely tells him off, but Wesker relents until the reader more or less snaps and humiliates him. "Look, I don't find you attractive, ok? Now please leave me alone. You are making me uncomfortable."

Sucks to be you, Wesker. Can you see Herman smirking in the background? Oh yes you can. Don't worry though, he's not finished. Wesker always gets what he wants. Right?

...

Micheal being an overprotective, possessive goof. After learning just how sweet, modest and caring this reader is, he can't help but to stake his claim. "Go away. This is MY traumatized hooman. Get your own." Oh Michael... But Michael's kindness and gentility will help the reader relax and open up in many ways.

...

Ok, this headcanon is one I'm not quite sure if I'll use or not, but I thought it was funny so I'll go ahead and share. It's called the "lift" experiment. Basically the killers want to see if carrying the sad survivors will keep the Dredge away. For example, Michael holding the reader bridal style in his arms for an hour.

This idea is meant to be purely silly, but it could also help the reader open up to touch. Like a trust exercise. I was going to use the biggest boys for it, and some of them fight over who can carry the reader because the reader is modest, quiet and sweet and won't cause them trouble. Who will get to them first, you know? Lol, it's just a silly thought. You guys can tell me if it's worth writing.

...

Then we have Jeffrey and Caleb who will be the group that the reader is officially placed in next. And those two will be the ultimate father figures. Lots and lots and lots of fluff. Jeffrey also knows which other killers' like the reader romantically and purposely makes them jealous by openly cuddling the reader in public or giving them kisses on their forehead and stuff like that. Let's not forget how insanely protective these two killers are. Eeeek! I can't wait to write them, but it's honestly going to be a while and I'm very slow updating that story.

...

There's some headcanons. I hope you enjoyed. Again I apologize for being sensitive. I hope you're doing well and have an amazing day ❤️

Hello! It has come to my attention that you are currently looking for inspiration, so I thought I'd lend you a hand! First of all, if this does not peak your interest, please don't feel pressured to take my suggestion! Alright, so, emotional support/fluff, hm... What about killers being tenderly taken care of after a survivor managed to hurt them? I'm not sure if this is the kind of concept you are looking for, so please excuse me if it isn't! Have a lovely day! 💗

A reader helping killers' who were hurt- emotionally and/or physically.

For the very sweet, lovely @lovesick-on-the-loose

Thank you so much, lovesick, for being so kind and patient. You're a very wonderful person and I've enjoyed the conversations we've had together. I apologize that the drabble is late, but I really hope that you like it 💐❤️ Much love to you, my dear!

Also.... This is my first time writing Kazan, so I probably did an iffy job. Nonetheless I'm glad I got the chance to portray his character more.

Warnings: Non-graphic violence. Character injury. Blood and injury. Fat shaming.

...

Max (injury)

Max was in a rough chase with Ada who kept hitting him with pallet after pallet until one point it finally managed to break the skin on his head. And it was painful. So painful that he dropped his hammer and chainsaw and began limping around blindly while clutching his head.

He growled and groaned in pain. His heart was racing and it felt like his skull was broken. Blood oozed down his face and into his eyes. What did he do? How was he supposed to fight like this? Aw, he just wanted the pain to stop.

"Max."

Max jolted and spun around anxiously. Who was that? Someone else who wanted to hurt him?

"Max, it's me, (y/n), a-are you okay?" It was you.

Max relaxed a bit and stilled his movements. Personally, you were his favorite person here. You were just so pretty and kind and caring. And he kind of... 'liked'... you........

"Oh, that looks bad. Here, I have a medical kit. Would it... Is it okay if I help you real quick?" You asked, stopping nearby.

Him getting help from you? Was this a dream come true? Max hesitated, but eventually he nodded and got down to his knees. He heard you approaching, his eyes squinting with the intense desire to properly see you.

"Here," You say, your gentle hands cupping his chin and tilting his head up, "Hold still, ok?"

Max uttered small, patient growls while enjoying the feeling of you softly cleaning away the blood. You were so gentle and kind. Oh, how he wished he could speak.

"I'm gonna bandage this, but it might sting a bit, ok?" You say, patting his shoulder.

Nodding, Max tensed and groaned whenever you poured cool liquid over his head, but once it settled a bit, he was surprised to notice the painful wound go numb. "I'm sorry this happened. I know Ada can be a pain to deal with," He heard you speak while wrapping up his head.

"But you did a good job," You hum, and it caused his chest to flutter. "And you're so strong. I love how you never give up."

Stop it. You're making his heart go crazy. Max's crooked mouth curved in a smile, and he growled bashfully at your praise. It might sound silly, but he really wanted to hug you right now.

Once you were done bandaging his head, you sat back and smiled, "There. Is that better?"

Brushing a hand over his tingly, bandaged head, Max nodded and looked at you, his cheeks turning red at your beautiful, kind, amazing face. Gosh, you were so incredible. He was grateful to even walk on the same ground as you.

Wincing, Max clenched his eyes shut and forced out, "Thhh... Thank... You."

"You're welcome, Max," You grin, leaning in to place your hand over one of his, "This trial is pretty much over, but I'll stay behind so you don't get punished. Does that sound good?"

What? You would do that for him? And the way you were holding his hand- it just- ahhh! What was happening right now?

"Wh-what's wrong?" You laugh softly, obviously catching onto his adorable panic.

Max tilted his head away. What's wrong is that he really liked you, and you were really nice, and you just helped him, and you were holding his hand, and it felt like his face was about to burn off. He growled a bit, closing his eyes when he slowly turned his hand over beneath yours, your fingers lightly intersecting.

"Max?" You squeeze his fingers back.

Max turned and looked at you, and his heart rocketed into his throat at what you said next.

Herman (emotional)

He was sitting at the isolated killer campfire by himself, his knees drawn and body slumped forward as he stared with blank eyes at the infinite fire. Around a week ago he had been rejected by someone who he was really attracted to, and that pain was still heavy inside him, endlessly weighing him down.

And, to add more salt to the wound, people both killer and survivor alike had been making fun of him and all for different reasons. He felt like a fraud, an outcast, a failure and a hated imbecile. And lonely. So very, very lonely. Unliked. Unwanted.

There was the distinct sound of tasseled tree branches in the distance, but Herman didn't care to register it. Was probably just some other jerk come to rub his own humiliation in his face again.

"Herman?" He heard a voice. 'Your' voice. "E-excuse me, I don't mean to bother you, I just... I just came to see if you were okay?"

Herman turned his head and spotted your shy figure standing just on the other side of the fire. While he didn't know you personally, he knew that the brief moments you did share together in the past had been decent. But that didn't answer why you were here. He nodded.

You approached slowly, your steps light and hesitant, "Aren't you lonely out here all by yourself?"

Yes. Herman shook his head and sighed, idly watching you from the corner of his eye.

"Is it okay... Can I sit with you?"

He nodded. You sat down about five feet away from him, mindlessly grabbing a nearby stick and probing it around at the ground, "It sucks- being rejected. Makes you... Makes you wonder what you're doing wrong."

Herman's eyes widened and he looked over at you. You were looking at the ground, casually tapping at it with the stick. You had been rejected too?

"And it's crazy because-pfft! Who would wanna reject you? You're smart, kind... Handsome..." You bashfully admit, turning your head away.

Interest fully caught, Herman straightened his posture and turned towards you a bit, "(y/n)?"

"I'm just saying-" You say somewhat passionately, albeit embarrassed, "They're stupid for rejecting you..."

Herman's gaze drifted off a bit, "Or perhaps I merely hone no attraction."

"Uh," You scoffed, glaring at him, "Yes you do. Why would you say that? You're very attractive, and kind, and you have the most beautiful smile, and you're such a gentleman- I-I seriously don't know why anyone would want to turn you down. You deserve so much more than that."

"Hm," Herman smiled a bit and scooted closer to you, his tone pleasant and smooth as he mumbled, "Yes... Yes, I suppose I do deserve better, don't I?"

When you turned your head back and saw how close he had gotten, you blushed and stammered, "O-oh, I-I... I?"

"Tell me, (y/n)... Is it true? Do you really think that highly of me?" Herman asked, staring hopefully into your eyes.

You stare back, a bit flustered, but honest, "Yes."

"Well then," Herman stretched his hand out towards you, murmuring, "I guess I just need to set higher standards then, hm?"

Kazan (injury)

Kazan is not used to the foreign, futuristic buildings that he is forced to do trials in. And not frequently does he have the proper attire to venture through these realms- like right now he was trying to navigate his way through some freezing, concrete building filled with flashing lights, walls, creepy bathrooms and more walls.

There was also a lot of clutter in the institute, and along that clutter there lie stray broken glass. Glass that he stepped and 'slipped' on thus creating multiple, long cuts in the bottom of his bare feet.

Kazan roared in anger and pain, immediately dropping his katana and falling down onto his bottom. He growled, pawing at his rapidly bleeding foot. There was a piece of sharp glass lodged inside it. He touched it and roared yet again in excruciation. Curse this hell.

If the Entity was a belly, he would slice it.

Kazan attempted many times to remove the glass, and when that failed he tried resuming the trial, and then when that failed he sat back down and huffed and groaned loudly in a mixture of pain, fury, and annoyance.

"Hello?"

Kazan huffed and turned his head straight in your direction, startling whoever it was that dared tread close to him. His eyes dilated, though, whenever he saw that it was 'you'. (y/n). You were standing nearby with your hands lifted in the air- a red medical kit held in the right one.

"I-I saw that you were hurt," You say softly, gesturing to his foot, "I can help."

What? He didn't understand you. The language you spoke was foreign to him, didn't you know? Kazan huffed gruffly, clenching his hand around his katana. The only reason he didn't cut you where you stood now was because he liked you. You were the only survivor who he respected in this gruesome purgatory.

Instead of running away like he expected you to, Kazan watched suspiciously as you pointed from your med-kit down to your own foot, back to the med-kit and then to him. Hm? He knew that those red, square things were filled with equipment survivors used to heal themselves with. Were you implying that... You could heal him too?

"I can help you."

Well, there wasn't anything about your tone that suggested malice, and your expression seemed empathetic enough. Perhaps he could stand to accept your aid. Kazan huffed and spoke in his own language, relaxing his body and lifting out his foot.

He thoroughly observed you as you slowly approached him and kneeled down in front of his injured limb. So far you seemed trustworthy. You shuffled through that red container and pulled out a pair of pliers.

Kazan wasn't completely ignorant. He knew what was coming. This wasn't the first time something sharp needed to be pulled out of his body. So he sat up a bit and braced himself as much as he could, stifling a great roar whenever you swiftly pulled the glass out.

Your care after that was immediate. As you quickly dowsed his foot with numbing liquid and then wrapped it with gauze, Kazan listened to your soft yet foreign mumblings. Somehow it was reassuring to him, and you were so precise and gentle.

Kazan decided that he really did like you.

Once you were done, Kazan sat up straight and began to thank you in his own language. He even did a little bow to further express his gratitude.

When you bowed back, he blushed a bit and gazed down at his bandaged foot. You not only helped him but you showed him great kindness and respect. He said that he wanted to get to know you better.

You squinted your eyes at him, looking confused, "What?"

Kazan did the only thing he knew of that could work. He grabbed his katana, ripped off one of the decorative sakura on the handle, and lifted it out towards you. Take this as a clarification of his gratitude and maybe even, one of these days, his love.

Jeffrey (emotional)

He was sitting outside of his caravan on a chair all by himself, simply enjoying the peace after-trials brought. It had been a rough day- one that was filled with hate, degradation, embarrassment and loneliness. Jeffrey knew that he wasn't the best looker out there. He had let himself go a long time ago and he was far from being healthy.

But man, did people really hate him.

A lot of the survivors were friends with the killers, but no one was friends with him. Jeffrey was positive that the reason behind that was due to his appearance- hell, the survivors and even some of the other killers reminded him of how disgusting he was every day.

That's why, when Jeffrey saw you timidly approaching him from the opposite side of the dead circus, he rose an eyebrow of curiosity and defense. Judging by your posture, you didn't look like you were here with ill intentions. In fact you seemed kind of nervous and... shy.

Jeffrey eyed you heavily up until you came to a stop just a few meters away. "Hi?" You bashfully said, your adorable fingers lifting in a small wave.

"An' what the hell do you want?" He asked, prepared for the worst.

"I um... I just wanted to come by and say that... I saw how the other survivors were treating you last trial, and I... I wanted to come see you and say that... That I..." You cleared your throat, pressed your hand against your mouth and looked away, your cheeks a vivid red, "I don't think you're ugly at all. And... I hate the way they treat you. It's not right."

Jeffrey could only sit still in silence for a moment, utterly shocked. Well, of all the things you could have said, he definitely didn't expect to hear that. "Heh," He smirked, spreading his legs a bit and leaning forward with interest, "An' what made ya come all the way down here just to tell me that, sweetheart?"

"I..." You stammered, your blush more than obvious, "I-I felt bad for how they were treating you, and I... I was worried that you- you know... Might be feeling bad too..."

"Well, ain't you sweet?" Jeffrey grinned and beckoned you closer with a finger, "Commere."

You complied hesitantly, coming to a stop just a few feet away from him. Jeffrey eyed you up and down, pleased with what he saw, "Tell me: if ya don't think I'm ugly, then what am I to ya?"

Your fingers nervously rubbed together in front of your belly. Your cheeks were dark and your gaze averted. "I- you... I think that you're... Handsome." And then you covered your face with your hands.

And oh did Jeffrey love that. Someone thought he was handsome- and not just any someone. 'You'. One of the greatest survivors in this junky place. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, can ya repeat that?" He teased, lifting a hand behind his ear.

You made a face that caused him to laugh in amusement. "Aw, come on, ya gotta know I ain't got good ears," He grinned.

You shuffled and gazed around, unable to look at him as you sputtered, "I said... I think you're handsome."

"What was that? Sorry, one more time."

"Mm..." You blushed furiously, covering your face, "Seriously?"

Jeffrey leaned back and chuckled, "Ain't you just the dammed most adorable thing I ever did see... Much better than all them other hustlers. Prettier too."

"Is... Is it okay if I sit with you for a while? Please?" You ask.

Jeffrey hummed and closed his legs together, patting his thighs as he said, "Yeah, yeah, here. Sit right here. Take a load off from all them darn nice things yuv been sayin' to me."

Whether you sat on his lap or not was entirely up to you. Either way, Jeffrey loved having you around. And for the first time in a long time... He felt like he was finally accepted.

It's a pretty difficult question, isn't it? Like you have to think about it really hard because, honestly, most of these readers' are past the point of recovery. But I'm curious and I wanted to see what would happen if I made one of these question thingies. You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I hope you all are doing well!

Killers' with a reader during bath time. Non-binary reader.

Warnings: Nudity. Non-sexual romance. Implied kissing and touching.

...

Jason

Most of the time Jason hates baths or anything to do with water. But if you're in it with him? Then he can compromise.

He always sits up straight and still in the warm tub, his mask off and body bare before you, completely vulnerable. He doesn't like to move because the water scares him, so he settles for watching you as you go about creating bubbles and adding scented oils to the tub. It's pleasant and he enjoys it.

Jason likes to touch you for reassurance that you won't let him drown. A hand on your shoulder, knee, arm or waist; he just likes knowing that you're there for him. Some times he might even pull you into his lap and just hold you for a while, bask in your safe and loving presence.

He loves it when you wash him. During bath time, Jason gives you all the wheels while he sits back and watches. When you use the soft, suddy loofah to scrub his body, it's utter bliss and makes him feel good. Your praise is an added bonus too, making him gladly submit his body in any way you wanted.

He gets transfixed on your bath products. Is that a glitter bath bomb? Whoa. Colored bath beads? Can you use purple? He loves purple. Seeing the water turn purple and glittery will have his adorable eyes going wide in awe. Just look at the water, (y/n), it's magical. You're amazing.

He's a good boy and he'll want to return the favor by washing you. His big hands will scrub every inch of you, making sure that you're nice and clean. Seeing your blissed out expression when he scrubs your back and head makes him happy. He's glad you're enjoying yourself.

The best way to end is by holding you close for a while, feeling your body pressed against his as he held you in his arms. With you around, Jason loved the water.

Wesker

Wesker's preference when it comes to baths is strictly to lay back, submerge himself into the hot water and relax. After a long day at work, relaxing is all he wants to do.

Most of the time Wesker lays back and watches you in your place between his legs as you pour in muscle relaxing Epsom salt and night-time bubble bath. So considerate. You were always thinking about his well-being, and he loved it.

He enjoys listening to you as you blab about your day- shows you had watched, things you had cleaned, ideas you had hatched, ect... Your innocence is a refreshment to him and it makes him feel a type of happiness that his job just can't mimic.

When it comes to you washing your own body, Wesker absolutely loved to watch. Seeing your wet body move around as you covered it with glistening suds was beyond enamoring to him. Some times he would even ask you to stand up and wash yourself, give him the full view so that he could admire every inch of you.

He's not really one to care for childish bath products but he does get a kick out of how much you enjoy them. Seeing you get excited over a new box of assorted bath bombs- which he totally didn't order for you by the way!- he just adores how excited you get. And that same excitement transfers to the bath whenever you happily go to try out your new water toys.

Bath massages. Oh, there's nothing better. Feeling your wet hands press against his tense, sore muscles was utter ecstacy. Expect lots of groans because he was a very knotted up man, and he tends to make loud noises when you work out those knots with your expert, caring hands. God, you had no idea how much he loved you.

To settle the end, Wesker likes to pull your body on top of his and have you lay against him for a while. Submerged wet cuddles? Yes please.

Frank

Oh God... Frank is an absolute child when it comes to the bathtub. Because he was deprived of such innocent luxuries throughout his childhood years, he can't help but to enjoy the opportunity to have fun in the bathtub with you.

Expect everything that was Satan's equivalent of a bathroom mess nightmare pack. Bath bombs, water guns, water crayons, colored bath beads, bubble bath. Everything! He had it all- it's actually kind of cute going to the store with him because he always wanted to check out the bath stuff. Don't tease him though or he'll get frumpy.

Frank loves playing games, so get out those fucking water crayons, baby. If you weren't ever scared of him before, then you should be now, because you are his human canvas. Come on, scoot closer, he wants to draw a heart on your cheek- news flash! It's actually a miniature penis. Let's not forget a colored beard to match!

You can't escape him.

Ever heard of bathtub roulette? Of course you have. It's where you fill the gun with soapy water, play a game of tic-tac-toe, and whoever loses gets a shot of soapy water in the face. Ouch if your eyes get hit.

Despite his childishness, Frank does love relaxing and holding you close. Your legs intertwined as he held your face and kissed your lips? Oh, he could do it for hours, even after the water was freezing cold. You're his gorgeous, beloved angel, and he was never letting you go.

Ending a bath with Frank is less romantic than you probably want to believe because there's a lot of cleaning up to do. And yes, he is childish enough to run away naked so that he doesn't have to take responsibility. Lucky you.

Michael

Talk about a statue. During bath time, this man is a brick wall. Like always, he sits at his end of the tub with that very neutral, monotonous look on his face.

Michael isn't against baths. Not at all. In fact he finds them very interesting and fun- except for that time he accidentally ate a "bath treat". Yeah, he knew it was a miniature bar of soap, but why in the hell was it shaped exactly like a gummy bear!?

He finds himself fixated on whatever you're doing. Michael and you have a deep understanding of each other, and he appreciates how you show and explain to him what all kinds of new products you had bought. A double loofah with a rainbow handle? Cute. Colored foam soap? Expect a beard.

Michael loves, loves, loves his rubber ducky collection. Every time he takes a bath with you, he carefully sets each of his duckies in the water one at a time. He may not show it, but every time you gifted him a new rubber ducky, he mentally flies over the roof.

And he feels the same kind of excitement with surprise bath bombs that have little toys hidden inside. Those were his favorite. So far he had some sharks, some dinosaurs, a pearl ring, and a bunny. It was just so fun watching the bath bombs dissolve and reveal an adorable item from all the magical colors within.

He gets frumpy when you try to wash yourself. Michael is very protective and caring of you and he likes to take care of you himself, and that means scrubbing and washing your body. You can't deny... It feels really, really nice.

Seeing your relaxed, sleepy face is the perfect end to a perfect bath for him.

Jeffrey

Lazy. Completely and utterly lazy. Depending on the day, baths with Jeffrey could either be very lively or very boring.

Prepare to find yourself squished between his legs at the front of the tub by the faucet, because Jeffrey practically prides himself in taking up most of the space. He chuckles a lot, teasing you and squeezing you between his legs, tickling you with his toes. He loves it when you get all frustrated and defensive, and yet you're still helplessly squished/trapped.

He thinks it's cute when you get on your knees and lean against his belly, your faces closer together so that you can talk, hold hands and caress each other's faces. Your so damn adorable, he could just eat you up.

One of his favorite things, though, is when you slather yourself up with oil. Oh yes. There's nothing Jeffrey loves more than seeing your gorgeous body glistening smooth and slippery. He enjoyed sitting back, licking his lips while watching you languidly touch yourself. It drove him mad.

After enjoying the show you put on, Jeffrey would sit up and touch you himself, squeezing and rubbing different parts of your body for as long as he pleased. Remember, he's obsessed with soft things, and when your body is oiled up it becomes prominent that he worshipped you for hours.

Some times Jeffrey's insecurities got to him, however, and he would refuse taking a bath with you. It took lots of lovin, gentle coaxing and praise, but you always won him over with your caring words and amazing acceptance. How could he ever ask for anyone better?

Ending a bath with Jeffrey usually involved lots of loving touches and cuddles, for you are his and he is yours.

Herman

The ultimate God of baths? Look no further than Herman Carter.

This man is unbelievably romantic and will have you wait in your bedroom until he has the perfect set-up created. Like a king/queen walking the red carpet, you would be presented with everything abundantly cheesy and romantic.

Dim lights, scented candles, freakin rose petals- all of it you would follow until you arrived at the bathroom where Herman lay beautifully naked and submerged in the bubbly tub, waiting for you.

Herman smiles at you and beckons you closer, enjoying the sight of you getting undressed right before his eyes. You're clumsiness while getting into the tub with him amuses him and fills him with fondness and joy. He loves spoiling you like this.

During bath time, Herman loves pulling you close and cradling you against him, his lips kissing whatever happened to be in reach- your lips, your face, the back of your neck, or your shoulders. He loved worshipping your body for every second that it was touching him.

Lots and lots of touching. Herman treats your body like it's made out of gold. Constantly he touches you, fondles you and massages you. Praise drips from his lips as he pulls you back against him and rubs his big, calloused hands up and down your chest. You're so beautiful, (y/n), and you're his.

Herman loves taking baths with you because it gives him the opportunity to be intimate under a new light. He got to spoil you, wash you, worship your body and make you feel good. Your happiness was all he needed to make himself happy.

Even though he doesn't want the bath to end, when it does, Herman rinses you off, helps you out and dries you off. Oh, don't think that just because the bath is over he still doesn't have a lot left to give.

I love how you write slashers and dbd killers as the reader’s fathers. There’s not enough of that in the fandom and I enjoy reading it. It so wholesome. Thank you for your amazing stories and wholesomeness! 🙂

Thank you so much, soapyghostie! You know, when I first made the slasher father drabbles, I didn't expect much. In fact I expected to be shunned. But to know that there are people who enjoy these particular drabbles makes me so happy, you have no idea ❤️ And I certainly do plan to write more slasher daddy drabbles. Like a LOT more. It was by accident, but I finally found my happy place in this dark fandom, and I love it, and I can't wait to share it with you and many others.

Also, I've visited your account and I think your writing is very lovely and sweet. Keep up the amazing work, my dear. You have an amazing talent and I can't wait to see it expand and grow ❤️

Altering Wesker's personality to make him an emotional supporter.

Usually I write this process on paper when I need to work on a slashers personality, but I wanted to share it with you guys so you could get an idea on how I turn the bad guys into emotional supporters.

So when it comes to working on the slashers' personalities, I always try to find a way to make them each more kind, sympathetic, supportive and likable while still somewhat staying true to their unique personality traits. Normally this process comes easy. I've never really struggled much with altering a slashers personality....

Until prince blondy bitch came into the picture that is.

Yes, this rip-off Corey Hart makes me wanna hit the snooze button in my brain every time I think about him. He's just so DIFFICULT and his personality is extremely unattractive to me. But I have him put down for future roles in billions of my fics and drabbles, so mentally I can't ignore him. I've gotta work on his personality and turn him into a proper emotional supporter.

Let's break down those traits, shall we?

Prince blondy is-

- narcissistic

- controlling

- manipulative

- dishonest

- powerful

- sadistic

- cunning

- polite only when he wants to be or if he's trying to manipulate someone

- disloyal

- teases and taunts people.

- gets jealous and loses his temper.

- gets bored of his friends and romantic partners

- views most people as insignificant and lesser than him.

- backstabbing attitude

- merciless

- gets bored easily and abandons people and/or projects.

- rude.

- does not value people for who they are but rather the benefits they can provide him with. Once someone is no longer valuable to him, he either runs away or kills them.

Yeah.... He's a real tough one. There's not a lot of positivity going on with this one. He's got every unattractive trait from A to Z. Imagining him as a supporter is like trying to walk on needles.

So what do I do during hard times like these? I make the positivity myself. I alter his bitch traits and give him some positive ones.

Altered Wesker

- Let's make him narcissistic still but with the ability to accept competition and rivalry without getting jealous or murderous.

- let's make him honest. Brutal honesty or keeping his mouth shut is better than lying.

- He hates unfinished business and will not abandon anyone or anything without explaining himself first.

- he can be manipulative but only during serious situations.

- He owns up to his failures, mistakes and misunderstandings. (There's nothing more attractive than a person who can admit they're wrong).

- he is still very intelligent, strong and powerful.

- He's still obsessed with uroboros and will murder, but he's more empathetic and less sadistic. He won't murder people he cares about.

- uses his honesty to defend his loyalty.

- has a high standard for people he considers worthy of his time. These worthy people will receive his kindness, consideration and attention.

- Likes independence, trust and dependability. These are traits he seeks in a partner.

- still egotistical and holds himself in high regard.

That's just some of the traits I'm giving him to make him more supportive. Now for a little bit of writing. Albert Wesker x reader headcanons. These help me get an even deeper understanding of his personality.

Original/unaltered: Wesker x reader.

Wesker enters the breakroom and notices you sitting at a table. You looked horrible; your hair messy, your eyes dark and your outfit wrinkled. What a ghastly sight for him to walk in on. You should do a better job keeping yourself in proper shape.

Focused on ignoring you, Wesker made his way to the coffee machine on the other side of the room. His brow twitched in frustration at the sound of your pitiful "morning sir". Of course he couldn't go without drawing your worthless attention.

"(y/n)," He answered flatly, his back facing you, "Don't you have morning patrol?"

"Leon switched me," You answered, "I had a really long night last night. It was rough..."

"Excuses, excuses," Wesker glared at the bitter taste of his coffee. Why couldn't things just be the way he wanted them to be? "Allowing your personal life to get in the way of your job is insubstantial. Do better next time."

You remained silent, soon finishing your beverage and rising up to leave.

Wesker didn't notice nor did he care.

Altered/my version: Wesker x reader. (same situation)

Wesker entered the breakroom and immediately noticed you sitting in your lonesome at a table. You looked exhausted and unkempt, the expression on your face tired and miserable. Hm, he wondered what was wrong. Normally you were well dressed and always upbeat.

"(y/n)," He addressed as he slowly walked past you, turning his head to meet your eyes.

Despite your situation, you still managed a smile at him, your body lifting and your voice kind, "Oh, morning sir. How're you doing today?"

He always respected how considerate and proper you were even during difficult times. "I'm doing well. And you?" He continued to give glances to you as he fixed himself some coffee.

"I'm fine," You say softly, "Just a rough night."

Ah, so it was something personal most likely. "I see you swapped positions with Kennedy. I'd rather not have short notices like this in the future. After you're finished here, meet me in my office and we will discuss what you are going through."

You smiled weakly and blushed. Wesker always knew when something was wrong, and he was always so quick to provide any care he possibly could. He really was a good boss.

That morning, Wesker sat with you in the breakroom.

Aaaannnnnndddd.... Emotional support slasher born. BOOM!

The reason why I have so much trouble writing prince blondy is because I really don't like him. His personality is like a smelly trashcan to me and if I ever met him in real life I'd kick him in the balls so hard his motherless grandkids would feel it. But creating these writing templates helps me to view him underneath a different light. It's how I build personalities and familiarize them.

I've done this process on paper for multiple killers. I just thought it would be fun to share with you how I altered personalities to write my stories.

I think for a comeback, I'm gonna kick off with a brand new slasher story before I update Miracle of The Moonlight. (Warning: in this post I share minor details of my life that may be considered disturbing).

To be completely honest, one of the reasons why I wrote most of my stories the way I did (overly dramatic and full of trauma) is because that's all I knew life to be. I dealt with all kinds of bad people and situations that overwhelmed my life with negativity. So I tried to create positivity and comfort by writing my stories.

However, the new state I live in has provided me with a wholesome, safe, unbelievably kind environment that I could never be more grateful for. I love retail jobs, but the last retail job I had in AR I got stabbed nearly to death outside of the store, so after that I had to work in a secured factory for my own safety. But now I'm back in retail and I'm LOVING it. I'm loving my new home so much that I'm getting ideas from it.

So, for this new story idea, I am gonna base the plot a bit off my own environment (which is literally nothing new, lol). There is going to be mega canon-divergence, basically like an AU. Dbd characters will also be used. And we're gonna make a HUGE change- and this is something that I've wanted to try for a long time. Like in my slasher father drabbles, I'm gonna write the killers as good guys. Feel free to hate me all you want. I'm done trying to fit in.

The plot for this story has been inspired by the horror stories I've heard from countless people about the winters here. And it's also been inspired by the incredibly kind, loyal customers that I get. Here's the gist-

Summary: A blizzard is getting worse and worse outside. The radio station has put out an alert for an emergency city shutdown. People are to go home immediately. But you're stuck in the building along with several other people taking shelter from the storm. It's too rough to go outside. The doors are stuck open. It's getting cold. You need to stay calm and get warm. Luckily there are some strong people there to help.

Of course, as you probably can imagine, the strong people are the slashers. Just imagine the safety, admiration and warmth you would feel if they were to help? This story literally has no trauma in it besides the blistering cold I guess. It's just a fluffy, sweet, heartwarming one shot. I've been feeling so happy and I love my little coal miner customers so much that I couldn't help but to feel inspired.

All I can hope for now is that you may possibly enjoy my new story, my loves ❤️

Slashers I think would make great ace partners.

I made this purely for my ace friends and followers. You don't have to agree with anything I say. This was made based on my own opinions and speculation. Like I said, you don't have to read this or agree with anything I say. These were also based on my own interpretations of the killers- aka- emotional support slashers.

1). Albert Wesker

I feel like a lot of people might disagree with me on this one, but I actually believe that Albert would gladly accept an ace partner. Albert has a high standard for people, especially partners. He puts personality value and skill value above all else. He looks for someone who is smart, talented, trustworthy, dependable and loyal. He wants someone who isn't too physically needy and can hold their own while he's gone on long trips. If he can have a partner who meets those needs, then I think he'd probably care less about sexual gratification. He would probably love to tease, pamper and spoil his partner as well for he just loves showing off how good he is at taking care of his loved one.

2). Michael Myers

It goes without saying that Michael probably despises sex or has no idea what sex actually is. If Michael were to find a partner, I think he'd choose a partner who is interesting, emotional and has certain needs. Michael is a protector; he likes guarding his loved one and providing them with care. He finds pride in the service he provides them, especially if it makes them feel happy, comfortable and safe. I do think Michael would like to hold and/or cuddle his partner, but not much more than that. Sex isn't even a part of his vocabulary. He loves his partner no matter who they are.

3). Jason Voorhees (the ultimate baby boy!)

The ultimate sexual pleasure destroyer here who kills every naked person in literally every movie, lol. Jason is a person who needs love, acceptance and reassurance, so he seeks out a partner who is kind, modest and pure. Jason is number one when it comes to putting personality value first. He could care less what his partner looks like, just as long as they are empathetic, accepting, trustworthy, loyal and compassionate. He also probably does love hugs, cuddles and soft, platonic touches because it makes him feel good, but sex is a no no. Jason is extremely caring too, so if his partner has needs, he will glady take care of them. He is a protector.

4). Pinhead/Elliot Spencer (baby boy number 2!)

I believe, due to his power, Elliot can feel the pleasure and determine the worth of a person without even touching them. Physical/sexual gratification isn't exactly something he needs to be able to feel what his partner is feeling. Elliot has a significant attraction towards those who are strong, passionate and determined. The worth of his partner is determined by their aspirations and outlooks on life. He loves to feel their emotions through the bond that they share because it's more meaningful and important to him. I think Elliot would also be pretty obedient and considerate, putting the needs of his partner first. You wanna cuddle? Then let's cuddle. You want space? Then you have your space, he understands.

5). Pyramid Head/The Executioner

I believe that Pyramid baby here is a special case because I don't think he has a "type". I believe he discovers love at first sight- like a soulmate thing. Doesn't matter what the person looks like or anything else. When he can feel that his potential partner is true to him despite whatever flaws they may have, he will instantly submit himself and live up to their expectations. If they prefer not to have sex, then that is perfectly fine. Just as long as this incredible person will stay with him, show him the world and share all kinds of meaningful experiences with him, then he will be infinitely grateful.

6). Jeffrey Hawk/Kenneth Chase (baby boy number 3!)

Jeffrey Hawk is a classical Kentucky tease (psst, I literally have no idea if he's from Kentucky. I just made it up, hehehe). Jeffrey does not define his partner's worth based on anything other than personality. Appearance doesn't matter, financial stance doesn't matter. Just as long as his partner is honest, loyal, caring and fun, then he will love them till the cows come home. His favorite things to do with his partner are cracking jokes, teasing, doing magic tricks, eating and exploring. He loves the attention and having his partner with him. Their smile and laugh is the very heart of his day. When it comes to sexual intimacy, he doesn't really care.

7). Ji-woon Hak

Some people might not agree with me on this one either, but whatever. I believe that Ji-woon would be a bit like Pyramid Head and view his partner as his soul mate. To him, they are the most precious, most beautiful and the most important jewel to him and he would do anything for them. Including giving up sex. There are other ways to enjoy time like teaching his partner how to play instruments or taking them on tour. Just as long as you're having fun, that's all that matters to him. He also loves attention and showing his partner off to the world. "Ha, jealous much? Look at my beautiful partner that you don't have!"

8). Carmina Mora

Carmina has been through a lot in life. She takes loss very seriously and will do anything to keep those closest to her safe. She also has insecurities and emotional issues, so risking bad behavior that would result in losing her partner is too great a risk. If she could find someone who was understanding, gentle and kind, and could accept her despite all her bad mistakes, I think she would be ever grateful to that person. I see Carmina as being more demi; needing that strong, emotional connection before ever doing anything intimate with her partner if that's what her partner wants. She's very loyal and caring, and will love her partner no matter what.

Fellow mentions I couldn't decide on (tell me what you think): Evan MacMillan, Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Max Thompson, and Rin Yamaoka.

Slashers as fathers with a child reader.

Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is less than ten years old (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile.

Summary: The slasher fathers feeling guilty after hurting their child's feelings. PART ONE.

Freddy Krueger

It felt like he had been a completely different person when he did it. Work had been stressing him out, parts of the house needed fixing, and he was a single parent. He wasn't getting enough rest. Eventually every little thing began to get to him.

Freddy hadn't been in his right mind when it happened. You loved making pictures for him, and one day you decided to nail some pictures on the wall by yourself. Not only had you nailed the pictures too low, but you had also accidentally made a large hole in the wall.

The incident had caused Freddy to explode. Not only did he yell at you for ruining the wall, but he ended up tearing one of your pictures in half. "I don't need this shit," He had shouted at you, "You think I feel like dealing with that? You ruined my wall, (y/n), and now I gotta fix it. I just- I can't... Ugh."

Freddy had avoided you for the remainder of the night- not because he was mad at you but because he was afraid he 'would' get mad at you again. It was a bad idea. He should have apologized for the way he acted. Because the next day when he woke up and went into his office, he noticed that every picture you had drawn him had been torn from the nails on the wall, shredded up and shoved in the trash.

Horror, heartache and regret immediately consumed his guilty conscience, and he rushed to find you. You were in your room playing with toys. It nearly destroyed him to see the way you flinched and scurried to hide behind a laundry basket.

"(y/n)," Freddy went to kneel in front of you, "Sweetie, what did you do? Why did you tear up daddy's pictures?"

"Because," You whimpered, keeping your teary face hidden, "You said you didn't need them. You... You tore it in half. I... I'm sorry, daddy. Hic... I-I-I'm sorry th-that I-I made a hole in the wall, an-and I'm sorry th-that you h-h-hate my pictures."

The amount of sadness, regret and complete and utter crushing guilt that fell upon Freddy was suffocating. Hearing your broken apology and seeing the way you were shaking caused him to be so disappointed with himself. He couldn't believe what he had done. Why did he do that? He would never do anything to cause you to feel this way, and he 'loved' your pictures.

And yet look what he caused. Not only did he hurt your feelings by being cruel, but he lost all of his near and dear pictures- even the ones you made when you were a toddler. They were all destroyed.

"I-I'll never color again," You swore in a loud whine.

"Oh no, sweetie, no," Freddy attempted to get closer to you, frowning heavily when you flinched at his touch, "Please don't do that. Listen- hey, look at me. I need you to look at me."

And when you did look at him, Freddy felt like punching himself in the face. You looked so scared, so sad and unbearably hurt. Oh gosh, what had he done? Why?

"Oh (y/n)..." Freddy sighed, shaking his head, "I'm so sorry. Yesterday I... I was just in such a bad mood an-and not because of you but because.... Look, (y/n), daddy didn't mean to act the way he did, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I yelled at you and I'm especially sorry that I did that to your picture. I regret it so much, you have no idea. Please... I'm sorry. I 'love' your pictures (y/n), please don't stop making them."

As Freddy eagerly waited for a brightened response from you, his heart sunk from his chest when you turned your back to him and quietly mumbled, "I wanna play with my toys please."

Excuses and more apologies sat on Freddy's tongue, but he denied saying them for he believed that you simply needed time to forgive him. "Ok sweetie," He got up to leave, "If you need anything, come get daddy, ok?"

"Ok, daddy."

While, over time, you did warm back up to your father, you never did say that you forgave him. And Freddy never got another picture. And he would never, ever stop regretting what he had done.

Michael Myers

Michael was overwhelmed by the frustration work caused. Due to lack of loyal employees, he was forced to work over-time and pull extra shifts. He was sore, tired and angry. It felt like he was the only person at work who ever did anything right.

And that anger built and built until it eventually brought out the worst in him and made him do something that he would regret for the rest of his life.

You loved (sport) and had been outside practicing with some of the neighbors. Michael had been inside attempting to relax when suddenly one of the living room windows shattered. He flinched and rushed to his feet, red clouding his vision when he saw a familiar ball on the floor.

On his way to the door, you ran inside breathless and gasping, "Ah! I'm sorry, daddy, it's my fault. I-I accidentally threw the ball too hard and-"

Michael, with his emotional bridge broken, raised his hand to cut you off. A seething scowl took place upon his face, and he began to lecture you out in sign language. "I don't wanna hear excuses. Why were you playing so close to the house? You should know better. Now look at what I have to fix. All I want is to relax and now I can't because of your stupid (sport). Why do you even play (sport)? You're not even good at it."

Even though his words were literally silent, the crushed look on your face explained that you knew exactly what he had said. Michael ignored your crestfallen face and quiet sobs and demanded that you help him clean up the glass before sending you to your room. Yes, your friends had watched the whole thing.

Michael's seething attitude didn't diminish until the next day after he got some good sleep. He soon realized that he felt bad for how he treated you yesterday and decided that he wanted to apologize. But when he went to your room, he was stricken to see all of your favorite sports gear sitting in a trashcan. (sport) merchandise and even pictures you drew were also in the trashcan.

Overcome with concern, Michael wandered to your bed where you were hiding underneath your blanket. When he tapped on you, you twitched but otherwise kept pretending to be asleep. So he tried again.

You caved and lowered the blanket. Michael didn't like the way you winced at him, your eyes squinted as if you were expecting the worst out of him. He quickly used sign language to ask, "What is going on? Why are you throwing all your (sport) stuff away?"

"I..." Your voice was hesitant and quiet as you gazed away, "I don't like (sport) anymore. I... I-I'm not good at it, an-and you h-hate me playing it, an-and I'm sorry that I broke the window... I'm sorry, daddy. I promise-huh... I-I-I'll never play (sport) again."

What? Michael's eyes nearly popped out, regret, guilt and fear clouding his soul. Oh no. What had he done? You didn't like (sport) anymore? And all because he had overreacted and told you that you weren't any good at it. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. It couldn't be like this. You couldn't stop doing what you loved all because he was stupid and having a bad day.

Sitting down on the edge of your bed, Michael quickly explained with sign language, "But you are good at (sport). Don't quit. I was having a bad day, I didn't mean to say that stuff. You don't have to quit. I'm sorry that I said that. Don't quit playing (sport), you love it."

Your lips wobbled and you turned your head away, your voice a broken whisper, "Ca-an I sleep some more before school. Please?"

Your lack of an answer both irritated Michael and broke his heart. He became angry at himself and regretful about what he had done. He wanted to talk to you more about it, but decided not to. Hopefully you would think about his apology and take all of your (sport) stuff out of the trash.

But, unfortunately for Michael, you never did get back into (sport), and he never got to stop feeling guilty about it.

Bo Sinclair + Uncle Vincent and Lester

Bo could admit that, on the surface, he had a very fragile temper. Ever since he had you he had tried his hardest to hide all the ugly parts of himself, especially his anger. Any time he began to lose his temper, he usually stomped off somewhere by himself to maybe punch something and take a moment to breathe.

So far he had done a fairly decent job.

Up until today that was.

It had been a long week. It was summer. Tourists were pouring in at random needing fast work done to their vehicles. The gas station and church needed extra attention. It was hot outside. And, once again, Bo had a very fragile temper.

It happened when he was elbow deep in truck externals. Ever since you could walk you had always been his little helper. Already at your age your dream was to be an engineer, but you still had a lot to learn. And the fact that you had a lot to learn is what caused Bo to snap.

With the impatience of the person waiting on their vehicle to be fixed, Bo also became impatient. You had been trying to help him, bringing him tools he needed.

Whenever you brought him one too many of the wrong tools, he ended up throwing a wrench and his hat to the ground. "What is your fuckin' problem?" He shouted at you, "Are ya stupid? If ya can't bring me what I need then get the fuck outta here."

You had flinched, tears immediately filling your eyes as you carefully backed up. Bo continued to give you a serious, livid glare that scared you, his words ringing in your head and shattering your heart. He watched you run away, his chest pounding with guilt he ignored as he finished his work.

Bo didn't see you for the remainder of the day, but he did check in with Vincent to make sure that you were alright. As night fell, he became more calm and relaxed, and soon he felt absolutely horrible for how he treated you. He sat on his bench rubbing his forehead in distress for almost an hour wishing he could take it all back.

He had shown you one of his worst sides. And it had hurt you. Now what was he supposed to do? He called you 'stupid'.

Unfortunately for Bo, he didn't get a chance to apologize that night for Vincent soon brought him a note explaining that Lester had taken you home with him for the weekend. Gosh darn it. He really wanted to apologize.

But his apology had to wait for- not one week or two weeks- but a whole month. That's how badly you were trying to avoid him. It was more than enough time for Bo to sit and think about his mistakes.

When Lester finally brought you home, Bo was grateful that you didn't appear to be angry or sad. You rushed to him and gave him a big, welcoming hug that soothed his core, "Daddy!"

"Hey, critter bug," Bo chuckled, ruffling your hair, "Missed you. Guess what? Some ol' couple brought in a beat up station wagon. Needs fixin'. Wanna help?"

"No thank ya," You said casually, leaning away from him, "I don't wanna be a engineer anymore."

Bo's world stopped rotating. "What?" He gave you a stabbed look, "But ya love doin' that stuff?"

"Not anymore," Your voice turned into a lightly disappointed mumble.

Bo's mouth went completely dry. He didn't know what to do or say. All of this time apart he thought that you would have gotten over his temper tantrum, but apparently you 'really' got over it. He had been the boulder that crushed your dreams. And it...

It almost made him wanna cry.

Bo swallowed, trying not to seem too beaten down, "But... Who's gonna be my helper?"

You smiled and pointed to the man standing beside the truck, "Uncle Lester will."

"Right..." Bo nodded, his chest aching with guilt, self-hatred, regret and sadness, "Right."

You never helped him with another car again.

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal liked to believe that he was the ultimate best at keeping his temper under control. He never got mad at you or expressed any negative emotions towards you. If you needed to be taught a lesson, then he would sit with you and have a firm, constructive conversation about how you needed to improve.

Your bond was strong and healthy and it made Hannibal proud. You even took after him by wanting to be a professional cook. And Hannibal was ecstatic to help you carry that dream into reality.

But one day all of his pride, arrogance and content came to an end.

You had woken up before him that morning and had snuck to the kitchen to make him breakfast. However, things went south and you accidentally ended up breaking one of his rarest, most treasured dishes- a dish that was literally one of it's only kind on the whole planet. And it upset him.

"I-I'm sorry, daddy," You had apologized desperately, "I-I just thought since you liked the plate so much you would also like eating off of it. I didn't mean to break it!"

Hannibal, his heart racing and his nerves burning with anger, had said almost too vastly, "And what lead you to believe that I would enjoy such horrible cooking on my most treasured dish? You knew these pieces were not meant to be eaten off of, yet you disrespected me anyway."

"Horrible cooking?" You murmured.

Because Hannibal was hurt, he couldn't resist the urge to make you hurt as well. "Yes. You are an awful cook. Your presence in this kitchen has always been a waste of time."

The way your eyes widened with hurt and how your hands immediately flew to your chest would be a sight that haunted Hannibal for the rest of his life. Slowly your eyes closed and you began to cry, your hands going to cover your face as you ran away, a sobbed "I'm sorry" echoing through the hall.

Instead of feeling satisfied that he hurt your feelings as intended, Hannibal immediately felt remorseful and guilty. Goodness. He knew that you were young and didn't mean to break his plate. He just... He just treasured the dish so much and now it was ruined forever. He let his emotions get to him, and he hurt you in the process. While it was your fault, he didn't blame you. You were innocent and you just wanted to make him happy.

After he cleaned up his broken dish, Hannibal searched for you and found you snuggled up on the couch. He sat in front of you and spoke calmly, "I'm sorry for getting angry at you. It wasn't my intention. You were just trying to make me breakfast and wound up making a mistake. It happens to all of us."

"I'm sorry..." You whimpered, obviously still upset.

"It is alright," Hannibal reached out and gently squeezed your shoulder. "I'll get started on breakfast."

"Can I help?" You asked hopefully.

Hannibal gave you a hesitant grimace, "I think it would be best if you skipped helping me in the kitchen for today."

Instantly your eyes puffed red and turned watery. Hannibal left you alone to exhale your emotions. He knew that you would be upset for a while, but he too was also upset. He just needed some time is all.

But apparently he was wrong yet again.

After that day, you never helped Hannibal in the kitchen again. For weeks after the incident, you didn't even eat the food that he cooked. It was like you banned yourself from the kitchen entirely. He had tried to coax you into helping him, but you always found excuses not to.

Soon Hannibal learned that he had destroyed your passion for cooking by making you believe that you were a terrible chef. And he regretted it so much that it was nearly unbearable. Hannibal couldn't handle mistakes he couldn't fix.

And no matter how hard he tried, he knew that he could never mend your feelings that he severed.

-

In part two I planned to age up the reader and have them secretly doing their passion behind their dad's back. And the slasher will find out and be like "what, I thought you gave up on that! Holy sh*t, I'm so happy". And the reader will be pleasantly surprised.

My favorite slashers.

I know it probably doesn't mean anything to anyone, but I've always wanted to make a list of my top favorite slashers and why I love them. I feel like some of the ones I listed won't surprise you, lol. In fact, none of them will. I'm very predictable. Now if I made a list of killers I actually dislike writing- that might actually surprise you.

1). Jason Voorhees

Baby boy!

I love Jason because of his character development. I've literally only written him in like three stories, but the amount of growth that he undergoes is incredibly fun to write. I'm also a sucker for physical flaws, so I think his appearance is really beautiful and cute. His backstory is heartbreaking- I probably sympathize with him the most out of any of the killers. Even without altering his personality, he just seems so much like the kind of person to want to grow and make changes (If he had the right person in his life), and I just really think he's a sweet character.

2). Freddy Krueger

Hey look! It's Jason's husband!

A Nightmare on Elm Street was the very first slasher movie I watched and it's pretty much the only slasher movie that I like. I love Freddy because his past abuse as a child is something I greatly relate to (abusive dads suck ass, bro). Of course I pretend like Freddy is not a pedophile or a rapist because that's just not fun. But altering his personality and writing him in my stories is something I've found to be an extreme joy. He's my favorite killer to write in the slasher dad drabbles. And he makes me happy.

3). Pinhead/Elliot Spencer

Pinny! My sweetest sweetheart of all sweethearts!

For Elliot, I kind of have little explanation. I think I fell in love with him because he has an obedient, submissive side to him, plus self control. The way he made the agreement with Kirsty in the movie without lying was attractive to me for some reason. His power is very interesting and unique and I've really, really enjoyed being able to mingle with it. Broadening his personality has been fun and I love using him to make other killers jealous and/or submissive. And he's adorable and sweet! Seeing Pinhead just naturally makes me feel giddy inside.

4). Herman Carter

Oh! There he is. Prince charming. The one we all expected to see sooner.

My version of Herman Carter is a character that I've grown to both love and be proud of. My altering of his personality is what brought my dbd stories to life. Every time I write him for the first time in my stories, I feel like I'm playing choir music in the background as if I'm introducing an epic character. And I love it. I enjoy it. Writing Herman is fun. His personality is so kind, charming, considerate and modest and just everything good. And that makes him one of the funnest characters for me to write. Plus I'll never forget how he was one of the first killers who I turned into an emotional supporter. When I wrote the first chapter of When a Survivor Bullies, it was such a wonderful moment because that's when something beautiful was born. Emotional support slashers.

5). Jeffrey Hawk/Kenneth Chase

The one everyones tired of me constantly hyping about!

Like Herman, I'm proud of how my version of Jeffrey turned out, and it makes me SO HAPPY when viewers admit to liking him. When I first got into dbd there was literally no positive fics with him. It seemed like everybody hated him, but not me! I'm the fuckin' king at making the biggest bitches likable! Jeffy wudn't even a challenge. Lol, but no seriously, Jeffrey is fun to write. I gave him a personality that's funny, teasing, irritating and caring while still staying true to his finger kinks. Also, I love his appearance. Hey, obese people are awesome and smexy!

6). Evan MacMillan

Sir papatron! The fictional dad of all dads!

As you can probably guess, I love Evan because I pretty much constantly write him as a overly stressed out dad. He's been both a good guy and an ass-hat in many of my stories. His personality is flexible and I find it rather simple and enjoyable to write. We have a lot in common when it comes to our fathers and broken jaws (again, abusive dads suck!) I just love writing him as the overwhelmed pops who just wants to do good but needs sleep and has way too much responsibility. Writing him in My Saddest Journey? Sooooooooo therapeutic <3 I love my papa.