Weirdo's 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!

Story idea for Hannibal Lecter x reader.

Summary: Hannibal becomes the new boss/leader for a company you work at. As expected, plenty of people are obsessed with him and his history being an infamous psychiatrist and amazing cook. He reads everyone like a book within the first minute of talking to them. However, he can't quite read you. Unlike your coworkers, you were practically silent, avoided team work, and performed remarkably while working. Every time he tries to speak with you, he only manages to get short, simple answers or excuses that are too difficult to read. And it's maddening to him. He wants to know more about you, and eventually... He will.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

I just wanted to get this off my chest. I think the viewers of Weirdo's Slasher/Bad Guy Series deserve to hear it.

I've been writing a lot of fanfiction on my secondary account for a different fandom these past few months. And I've made a lot of new friends, one of which said something that really hit me.

She said that when she wanted to avoid writing/updating specific stories, she had the tendency to jump fandoms. And I felt that because it's what I'VE been doing. I don't think it's my slasher stories in particular that I've been trying to avoid writing, but rather the 'violence'.

All of my slasher stories were hitting that point in the plot where they needed an insane amount of violence and angst to be written, and I think I was suffocating in it. It was depressing me and making me feel trapped, I guess. So I ran off and built a secondary account to hide in.

One thing about this break I've had that I think has helped me is the people I got to talk to and the friends I made. I'm not gonna lie, they're complete nut-cases and a bit crazy, but nonetheless they're amazing people, and they helped me open up in ways I never knew possible. For once I felt like I didn't have to struggle to be strong or even an efficient writer. I just needed to be myself.

I was too afraid to be myself around you guys. I was being too hard on myself, hiding my weaknesses, trying to bite through the discomfort of what I wrote, putting on a wise facade so that everyone thought I was just some kind of inspirational saint. But I'm not a saint. I'm a 21 year old dummy who has a traumatic life and writes fanfiction to vent off steam.

I felt like I had to be the strongest so I forgot to be weak and it built on me until it finally collapsed. I was trying to help so many people that I forgot to help myself. And I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for this whole sad, stupid post. I just needed to get it off my chest.

Thankfully all the simple, fluffy fanfiction I've been writing lately has mended me a bit. You would never believe what fandom it is either. I myself can't believe it, but that doesn't matter here.

I'm trying to get back on track. I'm sorry it's a slow pace. Luckily the newest chapters for my biggest slasher stories don't involve a lot of violence. I'm gonna sort through them, work my way back up, and hopefully begin a steady update routine. My apologies if my writing appears different in any way, I'm trying to work on it.

If you're curious about what I plan to update, here's a list-

-When a Survivor Bullies

-Battle of The Imaginary Minds

-My Own Exit Gate

-Miracle of The Moonlight

-Reverse The Dancing Knights

-Fate of Broken Roads.

Yep, I plan to give them all updates. I can't promise when and I can't promise how well, but I am going to try. I'm sorry again for everything, especially including this ridiculous post. I just... Really needed to get it off my chest.

Please remember that I love you all ❤️

I just wanted to pop in and say you're single handedly my favorite writer ever 💓💓💓💓💫💫💫💫

Thank you, vampire-hunter. More than anything I'm grateful that my stories make you happy, and I wish you the best of days and health 💖 I hope my stories continue to make you smile.

Hey my friends. I would like to ask you all a personal favor please.

Ever since I got Tumblr, my friendship with my viewers has begun to drastically expand. Many of you have been so nice and I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed conversing with you.

But there's just one thing I'd like to request.

Please do not ask or talk about my stories 'My Saddest Journey' or 'My Winter Compass'. I can't tell you why (and some of you may already know why, and if you do then I'm sorry. I'm so sorry), but I'm not comfortable with talking about those stories.

That's my only request please. I'm sorry. I hope you'll understand. Thank you for being such amazing, valuable viewers and beloved friends.

Vent post.

I promised myself that I would be more open with my viewers, and so here I am. I'm sorry if it's stupid and ridiculous. You really don't have to read this.

I take writing very seriously. Writing is my soul passion. And my bad guy series is one of my favorite series to write for... At least I thought it was. Here recently though, I've been noticing something and it's causing me to become more and more depressed and insecure by the month.

I'm not like everyone else in the slasher fandom. I'm different. And being different is causing me to be depressed.

At first I didn't know it, but I entered a dark fandom that thrives off of bdsm, sex and/or rape, submission and guilty pleasure. And I entered this fandom not liking any of that stuff. I don't like rape or bdsm or sex or submission. I don't even find the killers sexually attractive. But everyone else does. And that's what hurts.

I can't be like everyone else here. I can't make myself feel sexual attraction or enjoy bdsm and rape and all that. And that also means that I can't write any of that stuff either, and that makes me sad. It makes me sad because I can't be what this fandom wants me to be. I'm a disappointment. A dud. Sitting alone in a corner feeling so fucking a shamed and useless and lonesome.

Some times I don't even know what I'm doing here because I start feeling so upset, and I even get the urge to delete my stories. But at the same time I don't want to delete my stories. I want to keep writing and finish them, but gosh... This depression.

I keep asking myself what I'm doing here. I'm not good enough to be here. I mess things up. I don't even write the slashers in canon. What could I ever hope to accomplish in this fandom when I'm the polar opposite of what it stands for?

The only thing that's kept me going is the small group of friends and followers that I've made during my slasher journey. So if you're one of them then please know how grateful I am for you. Every single one of you gives me a reason to breathe inside this crazy fandom, even if breathing isn't what I deserve to do.

Also, this doesn't mean that I'm quitting any of my stories. I'm just venting and being pathetic. I'm so very sorry. I try not to let my feelings show, but here lately... I don't even know anymore.