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Dark Devotion [Yandere! Dead By Daylight x Reader]

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

Three. Prove Thyself

The trial at Ormond was a close call. The last gen had popped. Dwight, along with Claudette and Steve, were all on their last hooks, and the killer had placed the hex: "no one escapes death" somewhere on the map. Fortunately the new killer wasn't good, however, he wasn't exactly terrible either. Those knives he carries around were easy enough to dodge, especially when looping, but the trial was still difficult with Yun-Jin still learning the ropes of survival.

Still, despite all odds Dwight was still able to escape with Yun-Jin and Steve. Unfortunately he couldn't say the same for Claudette. Although three escapes counts as a win, he still felt like it was a loss. The male hated when someone would die in the trials. Being the smart one, and one of the first to arrive in the fog, he was always seen as the leader. So if anyone died during his trial, he felt like he let his teammates down.

Obviously Claudette knew the risks of taking the killer off of him so he could help the generators progress just a little bit faster, but he still felt responsible for her death. Hopefully in the next trial all four survivors can escape.

Dwight cringed in pain.

"Ow!" He hissed, one hand cradled his wounded stomach while the other fiddled through the medical cabinet. Right. He was still injured. Just before exiting through the portal, the killer managed to get one last hit on him, resulting in Dwight appearing in the medical cabin to deal with his injuries.

As he hurriedly took out items, Dwight wondered where you were. Usually when survivors escaped the trials with an injury, you would be waiting for them in the medical cabin to heal their wounds for the next trial, however, you were nowhere to be seen. So Dwight took it upon himself to at least stop the bleeding before he passed out.

Pressing a wet rag against his torso, Dwight took out a few gauzes, towels, and disinfecting sprays. His dark brown eyes searched for the pain medication, but as he gazed up at the shelves, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over. Gripping the counter, the male took a few shaky deep breaths. His eyes moved back to the shelf full of pills.

Reaching up, the male felt more blood seep out of his stomach, causing him to let out a sharp yelp. His grip loosened on the counter and he felt his body stumble back.

The male was about to hit the floor until he felt firm arms wrap around his torso. Dwight's eyes widened. The feeling of the stranger's arms, it was familiar.

He looked over his shoulder. To his relief, his dark brown eyes met your chilly [eye color] stare.

"H-hi."

"Hello."

The male tried to smile, but the pain in his stomach felt unbearable. "Agh!" He grunted, his hand gripping at his blood stained shirt.

Looking over at the closest empty bed, you firmly held onto the man and guided him over to the rows of cots just right of the medical cabinets. Helping him sit upright, you took a seat on the rolling chair beside the bed, and faced him.

"Could you take off your shirt?"

Dwight's face flushed, but he gave a curt nod and began to unbutton his shirt. As he took off his tie and shook off the white collared shirt, the male couldn't help but nervously gaze over at you as you took off your glove. No matter how many times he's been through the healing process, Dwight could never get used to your touch.

Dwight wasn't sure when exactly his feelings began to blossom into a crush. Was it before Feng showed up? Or after David's arrival? Time was nonexistent in the fog, and when he didn't remember his many deaths from the trials, his memories and feelings just meshed into a blur. Although he couldn't remember when his feelings developed, Dwight did know why.

The male watched as your hand began to glow. Although your expression was void of emotion, he could still see the focus in your eyes. Those eyes that were always vacant of expression, were pools of [eye color] that he always found to be a beautiful safe haven from all of his anxieties.

You were a being created from the darkness of the fog. A creature that served the very entity that would bring him and his friends despair, but despite all that, you always held such a peaceful aura around you that Dwight felt himself attracted to.

In his life before the fog, Dwight was always the punchline to someone's shitty joke. The smart one that people took advantage of. The one people looked at with eyes filled with arrogance and disgust. But you? Your eyes were always empty. You never once showed him hostility or looked to him for advice. You never once mocked him or asked him for favors with a fake smile and a sickly sweet voice. You were always real with him.

Around you, Dwight felt free of judgment and responsibility. Your presence was always calm, and your emotions always transparent. Of course, it was transparent because you didn't seem to have the capability to feel, but nonetheless he liked that you were always honest and that he could just be himself without worry.

He did have to admit though, he wished you were able to show emotions and thought. What sort of things would you like and dislike? What did you look like when you smiled or cried? What would you take interest in?

Who would you take an interest in?

Dwight's face heated up at the thought. No, he couldn't think like that. He had been in the fog long enough to know you held little to no regard for him or any of the other survivors. Your loyalty remained with the entity.

Dwight's eyes watched as you pressed a cold hand to his wound. His breath hitched in his throat and a low hiss left his lips. An icy yet soothing energy flowed into his open flesh. It was a sharp burning feeling that melted at his insides, but it slowly eased away the pain.

Dwight let out a shaky breath. His wound hurt like hell, but he couldn't fight off the blush that rose to his cheeks. Your fingers pressed against his skin felt good in the most shameful way. He had to admit, he wasn't proud of how happy he was by a simple skin-to-skin contact, but when it comes to you, healing was the only way he'd ever get to feel close to you.

It was a cruel reality Dwight had to face, but one that he's learned to live with. You couldn't possibly harbor his mutual feelings for you, but that wouldn't stop him from crushing on you, and with that, Dwight took any interaction with you to heart.

"So how has your day been?" He asked in an attempt to break from his thoughts.

Peering up, you glanced at Dwight briefly before moving back at your glowing grey hand, "It's been well. I've been busy assisting the two new additions get familiar with the camp. They both seem to be adjusting well to their surroundings."

Dwight nodded, "That's good. The new killer is, um, interesting."

"Indeed. He has yet to get a 4K, but his progress has been better than other killers in the past." Shifting your hand, you applied pressure to his wound once more; causing the male to flinch. "Proceeding with the outer healing process. Please don't move."

Dwight nodded, his eyes observing as your hand glowed and continued to mend his wounds.

"It's amazing how fast you can heal others." He commented, his eyes moving over to meet your eyes.

You looked at him briefly before turning back to his wound, "Compared to the natural human regeneration process, I suppose it seems quick, but for me it takes time. I need to disinfect the wound on the inside, restore cells, and use my own stored energy to speed up time and heal your body from the inside-out."

"That sounds complicated."

"Not at all. It's what I was made to do. I need to ensure all survivors are healthy to continue on in the trials otherwise the entity will be displeased with the sacrifice." Removing your hand from his body, you swiveled your chair away from the bed. "You are healed." You stated, before making your way to the medical cabinet to put away all of the stuff Dwight had previously pulled out.

As you cleaned up, Dwight glanced down at where your hand once laid. Instead of a bleeding wound, the male found nothing but clear skin. Placing a hand where his injury was, Dwight strained a smile. Yeah, it's what you were made to do.

"But still, you work hard, and I think it's really admirable how much energy you use just to keep me- I mean, everyone, alive."

You looked over your shoulder, your eyes meeting Dwight's gaze. The male pursed his lips, but didn't shy away from looking at you.

"You're just so calm and straightforward. Always doing so much for the other survivors even if not all of them are nice to you. Compared to someone like me, I think you're amazing."

Dwight looked at you with sincerity. He wanted you to know how much he appreciated you, even if you were just doing the bare minimum, even if you literally hold no emotions for him or the others, he wanted you to know he genuinely liked you and the presence you had in the fog.

But as he predicted, you didn't seem to understand.

"It's not hard work at all. It's what I was made to do."

Dwight sighed, but he nodded. Yeah, he figured as much, but he still hoped that you may have understood him by some miracle. But miracles didn't happen in the fog.

The two of you continued to stand in silence for a moment. Dwight, looking down defeated in thought, and you, staring at him with a nonchalant expression. All was silent until you decided to speak.

"You may put your shirt back on."

Turning back to you, Dwight's face flushed red, "R-right. Sorry."

Putting on his shirt and tie, Dwight got off the bed and followed you to the door. Stepping out onto the porch, the male scratched the back of his head and let out a nervous chuckle.

"So, umm...thank you. For, you know, healing me."

"It is not a problem. If you have any other injuries or concerns, don't hesitate to contact me. If I am not available, you can always wait for me at the survivor's main hall cabin."

"Right."

Taking a few steps back, Dwight allowed you to exit the medical cabin. He watched as you gently closed the door behind you and turned to face him.

"Did you still need something?"

Dwight let out a cough.

"If you need any help, I wouldn't mind helping you restock the store again."

The male fidgeted with his fingers as he looked at you thoughtfully. Although you may not understand his feelings, he still enjoyed being around you. He wanted to spend more time with you. To say he was desperate was an understatement. Dwight enjoyed your presence and wanted to be with you every chance he got.

So when he looked deeply into your vacant [eye color] eyes, Dwight already knew what you were going to say.

"Today I'm going to the killer's shack to restock merchandise, so your assistance will not be needed."

Dwight's smile faded, but he expected as much. Those hollow orbs of [eye color] were like an empty shell of a person. You couldn't and wouldn't ever understand him. That's where Dwight would always snap out of his own fantasies. You weren't human. You couldn't reciprocate his feelings no matter how many times he stayed by your side.

Dwight forced out a strained smile. "Alright. Some other time then."

You gave a curt nod and headed for the forest; making your way to the killer's side of the camp.

Dwight could only watch longingly as you walked away, his eyes trailed after you until you disappeared within the trees.

With a sigh, the male turned around and walked down the porch steps, making his way to his own cabin. As he walked down the pebbled path, Dwight heard a voice call out to him.

"Hey, Dwight!"

The male snapped his attention forward, his eyes moving over to the group of survivors sitting by the campfire. The one who called out to him was Zarina. With a grin, the Lebanese woman motioned for the man to come closer.

"Hey, come sit with us."

Dwight's eyes widened a bit in surprise. It wasn't like the survivors here were mean or two-faced to him like the people back in his life before the fog, but the survivors didn't really call out to him too often unless they needed advice or help.

Dwight purses his lips. Yeah, they most definitely wanted something from him. Why else would they call for him? The male wanted to just shake his head and continue walking, but he knew as the leader he couldn't just up and abandon the others when they needed him.

Letting out a small sigh, Dwight reluctantly walked up to the group and sat beside Adam.

Dwight looked at the group with a nervous smile. His eyes went around the campfire to the different survivors sitting in a circle until his vision focused on Yun-Jin Lee.

"Oh, hey again." Dwight acknowledged, a bit surprised to see her within the group. "I see you've met the others."

Yun-Jin smiled softly, her eyes moving to the other survivors who had welcomed her with open arms. "Yes, everyone's been very kind to me."

Dwight nodded. "That's good. How've you been holding up in the trials? Our last trial I've been focused on looping so I couldn't really help guide you through the gens as I promised." Dwight then grimaced at the memory of the killer setting his goal primarily on him, leaving Yun-Jin to fend for herself on an unknown map. Turning to look at Yun-Jin, the male sent her an apologetic frown, "I'm sorry about that."

At his words, Yun-Jin's eyes widened and she was quick to shake her head, "No, it's fine. I understand. I'm still not good with the generators, but I'm learning with time."

"That's good."

Dwight nodded, his eyes then wandered over the group. The entire circle was quiet, all of them looking at one another as though they were having some kind of telepathic conversation. It made Dwight worry. What was going on?

Among the silence, Zarina was the first to speak.

"So, Dwight, how have you been?"

The male looked at her in confusion, "Um, okay? I guess." He then shook his head, "Is there something you guys needed, or...?"

Min groaned. "Look, let's cut to the chase. How well do you know the entity's servant?"

Dwight looked at her in surprise. You? Why did they want to know about you?

The male scratched his cheek, "Pretty well, I guess? I sometimes help them with restocking and we have small talk, usually on my end, but that's about it. Why?"

This time, Adam cut in.

"Have they ever shown you emotion?"

Dwight furrowed his brows, "Not really. They're usually neutral to everything. Whenever I ask how they're doing they always give the same response."

Min looked at him to elaborate.

"Which is...?"

"They say 'well,' usually. But wait, why are you guys asking me all of these questions? What's going on? Is there a problem with them?"

The group looked at one another. Upon making eye contact with each other, they all seemed to have come to agreement to tell the anxious leader their plans.

"We think we might be able to change them." Zarina answered, causing Dwight's eyes to widen in shock.

Wait, what?

"Change them? What do you mean? How?"

Min shrugged her shoulders, "Being friendly, I guess. Sharing our emotions, thoughts, basically teaching them how to be more human."

"I don't think it'll work, but the others think it's worth a shot." Adam shrugged.

"What made you guys come to this conclusion?"

Min pointed to the silver haired newcomer, "Yun-Jin actually brought up a pretty good point about them. They don't hate us- actually, let me rephrase that. They don't gain anything from us. So, why not take their neutral stance to our advantage?"

"So we decided to come up with a plan to change them into being more human, or at the very least have some connection so we can persuade them to help us." Zarina added. "Since you're the leader and have been here the longest, we figured we'd ask you to help us with this experiment."

Dwight looked at the group in bewilderment. A chance to change you? Was that even possible? Ever since his feelings for you had bloomed, the male had taken any chance he got to spend it with you, but you never seemed to change. You were always stoic. You never gave your thoughts or opinions on anything, always leaving Dwight to fill in the blanks.

But maybe that's where he's been going about it all wrong.

Dwight's eyes widened in thought. He then moved his attention over to the group. "Are you guys sure you want to go through with this plan, and that it will work?"

Zarina pursed her lips. "We don't know, that's why we're asking you. We figured we would ask you since you seem to have the most experience with them."

"We did plan on asking you, then Claudette, Jake, and Meg to help as well." Felix added, "But we wanted to hear from you first."

Dwight bit his lower lip. A chance to get closer to you, to make an actual connection.

If what they said was true, that you had no gain from hurting them and simple existed on a neutral stance, then perhaps it wouldn't hurt to try. But first, they needed proof that you had the capability to learn empathy and adapt into human nature.

The male straightened up in his seat.

"Well, if this plan of yours is going to be in motion, first you need to reconsider the people who have been here the longest. Claudette is a good idea since she's very understanding and patient by nature, but Jake is more neutral with them and he is kind of hard to get through. As for Meg, that's just a bad idea. If anything it should be people who have a better relationship with them, or at least a more neutral stance."

Zarina nodded. "That makes sense."

Min then raised a brow, "So does that mean you're in?"

Dwight smiled, a light of determination flickered in his dark brown eyes. "I will try my best."

Dark Devotion [Yandere! Dead By Daylight x Reader]

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

Four. Bitter Murmur

Placing the new box of knives out on the counter, you gazed down at the magenta colored blades, inspecting the new weapon as they shined under the dull cabin lights. It hadn’t been long since you left the entity realm to retrieve these new accessories. Since it was difficult to travel, the entity would often send you off to one of the many different worlds to get new clothes and items for both the survivors and killers to use. 

You couldn’t quite understand why it was necessary to get these meaningless items. Apparently all of the clothes you’ve retrieved held some sort of significance to both the killers and survivors from their past lives. You couldn't see the value in those things. Sure, some were curious such as one of the survivor’s blue, white, and red sailor outfit with the ‘scoops ahoy’ logo, or one of the killer’s bunny masks that was worn down and burnt. However, you couldn’t see why those clothes would fuel either side with determination.

You didn’t question it though. You simply took what you were asked to take and stock those items in the store.

Picking up a new throwing knife, you carefully wiped down the blade before placing it gently on the velvet cushion display. As you did so, your eyes peered over to the entrance of the store. 

Swinging open the door, Ji-Woon stood at the entrance of the cabin in curiosity. His eyes wandered over the cramped cabin, from the creaking, wooden floorboards to all the odd trinkets that were set out on display. He scoured the store with a scrutinizing gaze until his sharp golden hues finally landed on you.

“Greetings, Trickster.” You welcomed him. Placing a blade down, you looked over at him with a pointed stare. “Is there something you need?”

The male looked at you with a single raised brow, but after a moment he chuckled and waved a hand dismissively at you.

“Just looking around. Go back to what you’re doing.”

You gave a curt nod and turned back to the knives display.

While you cleaned, Ji-Woon looked around the make-shift store. His eyes went from the other killer’s weapons and outfits. He grimaced at all that was displayed. They were all so tasteless. Tacky. Nothing that would suit his style. In fact, everything in this realm didn’t suit him. 

When Ji-Woon first agreed to coming to the entity realm, he thought he’d be living his same old lavish lifestyle, except with the freedom to as many victims as he pleased. Unfortunately, that wasn’t quite the case. Sure, he was happy with the endless amount of freedom to kill, but he wasn’t told that he would have to wait. In fact, he didn’t even know there were others like him. Killers. Whether they were there on their own free will or against their will, they were all killers, and Ji-Woon realized that he wasn’t as special as he had hoped. 

Although he hadn’t been special in getting this kind of opportunity, he was special in a different category.

Style.

While all the other killers kept to themselves, Ji-Woon preferred a more spontaneous style. Be it his looks, attitude, or brutality in the trials, he was different. So when he heard that there was a store in the realm, something more to set him apart from the others, he immediately wanted to check it out. 

All of the outfits and accessories though, none of them caught his interest. Chainsaws were too unruly. Kitchen knives were too bland. And masks? Why would he want to hide his handsome face? Nothing in the store would suit him.

Or at least he thought, until his gaze finally landed on a section of the store where you stood. Sauntering over, Ji-Woon smiled as though he had just found his long lost love.

“Hello gorgeous.” He hummed, picking up the black bat with purple stripes and gold accents on the spikes of the bat. Giving the bat a few good swings, the male laughed to himself, imagining hitting those survivors with a powerful blow. “Ahh, I haven’t seen you in so long! But back then you were merely a prop for a music video, but now…” Ji-Woon turned around one of the mannequin displays. Putting as much force in, he blew the head right off the mannequin. 

“Now you’re perfect!” 

Turning around, Ji-Woon walked over to where you stood. His eyes glanced at you for a brief moment before his focus was solely on the displays behind you. All of them from old concerts, runway shows, and music videos he had been part of. It was all him.

The male hummed to himself, not caring if he were taking up any of your personal space. He simply grazed his fingers over the outfits while squishing you between him and the corner. Usually he wouldn’t be so chummy with strangers, however, he was in a good mood, and being the generous person he was, he wanted to make your day as well by letting you be in his presence. After all, he was The Trickster. 

Rummaging through the racks, Ji-Woon set a few outfits on his forearm all while you stood in place, still and silent.

You weren’t quite sure what to do. You’ve never been so close to anyone before. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. You’ve only ever been close to two individuals, and they only ever been so because they wanted to kill you.

It was odd though. The trickster wasn’t trying to kill you. Unlike the times where the two killers would press you up against the wall, knife in hand and trying to tear at your skin, the trickster being so close was different from that. You could feel his body heat, smell his scent- a mix of mint and blood, and see every detail of his features. It was peculiar. 

You stared up at him with focused [eye color] eyes.

He reminded you of an insect.

“Hey.” Ji-Woon began, his eyes not once leaving the outfit display, “Take this back to my cabin.” He ordered, his arm stretched out to show the black and gold bat. 

You glanced down at the very rare item. You already knew it was too pricey for him to get, but still, you continued to look directly at him and ask:

“Would you like to purchase these using your iridescent shards or conjure using auric cells?”

“The shards.”

“I’m sorry, you can not afford this using the shards.”

Ji-Woon sighed, “Then use the auric cells.”

“I’m sorry, you can not afford this using the auric cells.”

This time, he did look at you. The once happy smile that tugged on his lips was long gone and what followed was an annoyed grimace. It only showed for a moment though. In a blink of an eyes, Ji-Woon was back to smiling his Cheshire grin, however, those eyes of his looked as steely and sharp as ever.

The idol chuckled. His chest rumbled as his deep laugh echoed from deep within himself. Ji-Woon continued to stare you down. Were you purposefully trying to sour his mood? Why would you bother to ask him how he would like to pay if you knew he didn’t have enough? In fact, why did he need to pay for these items when they were already his to begin with? 

Picking up one of the knives on display, the idol flawlessly twirled the blade between his fingers. Within an instant, he has the sharp edges of the knife pressed harshly against your throat. 

“Now, why are you toying with me like this, huh?” Ji-Woon tilted his head with a click of his tongue. “And here I thought you were nothing more than an obedient pet, but it seems you have a wicked sense of humor. How troublesome.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the idol placed his free hand up to your face and pressed a sole finger to your lips.

“Shh, I don’t want to hear it.”

So you closed your mouth, your eyes watching as the Trickster studied you. 

His gaze moved from your eyes to your lips, his mind memorizing your features from each curve and freckle that adorned your face. You weren’t bad on the eye, he’ll give you that much. However, something was off about you. His fingers subconsciously moved from your lips to your chin, his hand tilted your head up so he could get a better look at your eyes. Those eyes. The way you stared at him as though you weren’t even in your own body…it caught him off guard.

Anyone who met Ji-Woon Hak was instantly attracted to him. They all looked at him with glimmering eyes and slacked open jaws, as though he were a literal god amongst men. Starstruck. Everyone always looked starstruck upon meeting Ji-Woon Hak. 

Thus making them easy prey.

Anytime he played as the charming idol, people loved him. They adored him. No one could resist him. Even the most uptight, egotistical civilians couldn’t stop themselves from staring at him in awe. 

So why. 

Why were you looking at him as though he were nothing. 

“What are you exactly?” He muttered, though he wasn’t exactly asking you directly, his gaze seemed lost in thought as he stared into those deep pools of [eye color] that sucked him in like quicksand. There was something about you that unsettled him, and he wasn’t sure what that was.

There was a moment of silence, before you spoke. 

“I’m the servant to the entity.” You responded, though that wasn’t quite the answer the idol was looking for, it was enough to snap him out of his stupor. 

“I see.” He muttered. His hand then let go of your face and the other hand holding the knife to your throat fell to his side. Taking a step back, Ji-Woon covered the bottom half of his face with his hand, hiding the relieved smile that curled on his lips. You were nothing but a mere servant. Those words seemed to snap him back to reality. Your existence? It’s meaningless to someone like him. Why should he worry himself on you when you weren’t someone on the same level as him!

He hummed at the thought. Of course, just another servant.

“A servant, you say?” The male chuckled. “If you serve the entity as you say, then your existence is meaningless, right?” His golden hues flickered over to you, his eyes searching for a reaction. “I mean, if I were to bring this knife to your throat, she’ll just make a replacement, correct? After all, servants are just beings beneath their masters. Easy replacement.” 

Bringing up the knife once more, he showed you his star dazzling smile.

“Since you’ve blatantly disrespected me, I should only show you your place, right?”

Your eyes stared into his wild golden orbs, those cat-like pupils stared at you with feral, murderous intent. Although you weren’t sure when you disrespected him, everything he said wasn’t a lie.

“That is correct.”

He grinned.

“Under the circumstances that I am killable that is. However, I’ve been given the form where I can’t be harmed.” You replied, much to his surprise. 

Unkillable you say? Well, whether what you said was true or not, he just wanted to punish you. He wanted to hear you scream. Ji-Woon took another step closer. With the knife twirled between his fingers, the idol gazed at you mischievously. 

“Really? May I test that then?”

You lowered your head in a bow, “You may do as you wish, as long as you don’t go against the entity or her rules.”

Ji-Woon smirked, “Perfect.”

Before he could raise the knife over his head, the cabin’s door swung upon. 

“Oh hey, there you are!” 

A young woman with mid-length magenta hair walked in. She wore a long, black hooded jacket that reached a little below her waist, and a red stained plaid skirt over some black tights. If you ask anyone else, most would think she was a survivor that somehow crossed the border and got lost on the killer's side of the camp. However, upon looking at her face, those who would mistake her for a survivor would be met with one of the masks of Ormond’s most infamous group of serial killers. 

The Legion.

Although the two couldn’t see it, the woman was eyeing the idol warily as she spoke.

“I need your help. Danny and Frank are fighting again.” 

You gave a curt nod. “I’ll be right there.” You responded, before turning your attention back to the trickster, “I apologize, but it seems that I have to cut this conversation short.” You bowed once more, “I also apologize for disrespecting you. I wasn’t aware that what I said or did could be seen as rude. I will learn from this interaction and make sure it never happens again.”

Although your words seemed sincere, the tone of your voice was anything but profound. Ji-Woon could feel his anger rise and a sneer wanting to crack his charming smile. He didn’t want an apology, he wanted to see you suffer. Something about you just irritated him. He wanted to see you cry. To scream with tears running down your clear [skin tone] cheeks. 

However, it looked as though it would have to wait. 

Taking in a deep breath, the male let out a loose chuckle. “Of course. A servant must attend to their duties.” 

Standing up straight, you could feel Ji-Woon’s eyes follow you like a wolf to a rabbit as you wandered over to the masked woman’s side. 

Behind her mask, Susie stared down at the idol with glare. Placing a hand on the small of your back, she proceeded to guide you to the door. But before the two of you could leave, Ji-Woon spoke. 

“Oh, and servant? I do hope to continue with where we left off. I’d love to test out your immortality.” He spoke slyly, sending a shiver down Susie’s spine.

You could only give a curt nod, moving as the pink haired legion member quickly ushered you out the door and down the pebbled path until the two of you were a good distance away from the cabin. Once out of earshot, Susie was quick to let out an angry groan and lift up her mask, revealing her dark, sky blue eyes that swirled like an angry hurricane, and pale pink lips that turned downwards into a scowl. 

“Man, that guy is a jerk! And I thought Frank had a big ego.” She huffed out, “Who does he think he is? He just got here and he’s acting like he can do whatever he wants! The nerve!” She exclaimed. “Agh!” She scratched her head, mumbling incoherent swears to herself.

After a moment of brief pause, Susie quickly turned to you with furrowed brows of concern. “Are you okay though? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You shook your head, “No.”

Susie smiled in relief, “That’s good. I heard the commotion walking by and I thought you needed saving.”

“I can’t be harmed so I wouldn’t need saving.”

The woman could only roll her eyes at your words, “I know, I know, but still.” She fiddled with her sleeves and looked away with a blush coating her cheeks. “I hate when the others give you a hard time. You’re too cool.”

You looked at her curiously, “Cool?”

As in, temperature wise? You brought a hand to your forehead, feeling the smoothness of your skin. You didn’t particularly feel cold. Also, how could she possibly know your temperature? The two of you hadn’t interacted in quite some time. 

While you stood there confused, Susie looked at you in amusement. A snort soon left her lips as she held in her giggles, watching as you stared at her curiously. 

“No, not cool as in how hot or cold you feel, but- aha, nevermind. You wouldn’t get it.” She giggled, looking down and kicking a few pebbles with her converse. 

You weren’t sure what she was trying to say, but you didn’t bother asking for her to elaborate. Susie has always been a bit of a curious one to you. Saying odd phrases like how you’re ‘so lit’ and that you’re ‘high-key goals.’ Despite being the more timid one of all the other legion members, she was surprisingly the oddest one of the group. Around you, she always did curious things that you couldn’t understand, but you didn’t necessarily mind. 

After a brief moment of silence, you remembered why you had followed her outside the store in the first place. Looking around the camp, you waited to see two men going at each other’s throats with blades in hand, only to be met with a quiet forest. 

“Where is Danny and Frank?”

Susie perked up, “Oh! I lied. Everything’s fine.”

Again, you were left in the dark with many questions only to be left unanswered as you nodded, blankly. “I see.”

Susie swayed back and forth on her converse, she looked at you with a cheeky grin and pointed over at the forest with her thumb, “But could you walk with me for a bit?” She asked, gazing at you with hopeful blue eyes.

You didn’t even have to think of the answer before responding. 

As the entity’s servant, you had duties to attend to. If it weren’t with the killers or survivors, then it was out looking for them. Any little time in between was nonexistent. 

You opened your mouth to decline, but before you could utter a word, Susie was quick to speak.

“And before you say no, just note that my performance for my next trial will be merciless if you say yes!” She exclaimed. 

Pausing, you looked back at the shop cabin. You could see the trickster had already walked out, his form walking away from the store and disappearing into the fog. It wasn’t as if anyone could steal from the shop anyways, not without a punishment. And if the legion member was true to her word, then the entity wouldn’t be too displeased. Especially since the killer before the legion was someone who’s been notorious for leaving the entity to hunger.

Looking back over at the legion member, you nodded. “Okay.”

WIth a bright smile, Susie grabbed your hand and excitedly dragged you into the forest until the two of you were a long distance away from the killer's camp. Once away, she linked her arm with yours, strolling through the gaps between the looming trees that towered into the empty, black abyss of the sky.

Susie took a deep breath. Her gaze fixated on the path ahead before sneaking a glance over to you. 

It had been a while since she had a moment alone with you. Being the neutral party between both the killers and survivors, your time was scarce. If you weren’t doing your daily tasks, you were often busy with one of the two troublesome stealth killers that always seemed to seek your attention. 

It was annoying.

For the past few trials, she had been longing to be in your presence. Susie had so many things to say, but your time was always snatched away just before she could ask if you had a moment to spare. Between doing your tasks and keeping everyone entertained, Susie barely had a moment to speak to you.

It was fortunate timing that she heard the commotion coming from the store, otherwise she wouldn't have gotten another opportunity to be alone with you for a while. 

Determined not to let the moment go to waste, Susie cleared her throat. 

 “So,” She began, looking over at you with a tilt of her head, “Speaking of trials, when is mine coming up?”

You thought for a moment, “After the next two trials.”

Susie’s eyes glimmered in excitement. “Really?! Oh man, I can’t wait! I’ve had the heart locket in my drawer for so long that I thought I wasn’t going to be able to burn the offering!”

Bringing her hands to her face, Susie squished her cheeks as she continued to ramble, “The entity is so cruel. My last three trials I was sent to Autohaven, possibly one of the darkest maps in the entire realm. It sucks, especially for a hunter like me! I can’t see anything when I go feral! Do you know what that’s like? Cuz let me tell you, it’s not cool.”

You didn’t respond, allowing the young woman to vent out her frustrations with her feral frenzy ability and the hardships she faced in her past few trials due to map obstacles. 

“It’s like, okay I get this super cool superpower of speed, but at what cost? I can’t see footprints, and lately the survivors seem to be so coordinated that when I manage to hit one of them with feral frenzy, they all run to the opposite side of the map and make me waste my ability! By the time I get one hook in, they’re already at three generators!”

Susie huffed out in annoyance. Massaging her temples, she released a sigh. 

“No matter, the next trial is going to be a game changer once I bring us to Coldwind Farms.” The girl grinned, “Ah, I can’t wait to have such a pretty map! Listening to the winds as the cornfields sway, and to finally feel the sun again!” She chuckled for a moment, but as soon as she said those words, her once bright blue eyes dulled and the smile on her face was quick to vanish.

Before Susie knew it, she stopped in her tracks. Glancing up at the starless sky, the young woman furrowed her brows, her thoughts lost between her words. 

“I-I miss the sun.” 

Although her eyes were on the black void above, her eyes seemed hazy, as though she was looking into the past upon gazing in the blanket of black that loomed over the realm. 

You stopped in your tracks as well. Turning to face the legion member, you watched as she continued to speak her mind. 

 “Actually, I miss home.”

She admitted, letting the words fall to her lips without thought.

Unlike the other legion members, Susie has not let go of who she used to be. She wasn’t a good guy. She knew that, but sometimes when she gives the survivors hatch, or when she rambles to you about her interests in fandoms, she sometimes feels as though she’s her past self. She’s not a killer. She’s sweet, shy, innocent Susie.

That’s why she likes being around you. You listen to her. Unlike Frank who tells her to let go of the past, or Julie who gives her unsolicited advice, you listen to her. You make her feel like naive little Susie again. 

Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine. Feeling eyes on her, Susie glanced over at you, startled upon meeting your cold [eye color] gaze. 

Shit.

Although she was comfortable speaking to you, sometimes she forgets she shouldn’t be too comfortable. After all, your loyalty wasn’t to her.

Susie could feel sweat begin to form on her brow. She quickly raised her arms up and shook her head frantically, “D-Don’t get me wrong though! I’m not going to betray the entity or anything like that!” She quickly exclaimed, her worried eyes moving back over to the ground. With her hands fidgeting with the hem of her jacket, she could feel the blade of her weapon poking from her pocket. A frown made its way to her face. 

“I…I just… I don’t know.”

A moment of silence passed between you two. While you stood there observing her, Susie stood motionless, cursing herself for saying too much. She knew better than to let her mind talk, but she couldn’t help it. Not being able to speak with you, bottling everything up, it just became too much. 

She knew she could get in trouble for saying the things she said, but at the same time, the feeling of her words slipping from her mouth brought her peace. 

Susie glanced back over to you, “Have you ever felt the sun?”

She asked, her eyes boring into you, as though searching for any form of comfort. The two of you seemed to have a stare off, with Susie wordlessly spilling a thousand words while you took in every syllable and tossed it into a void of [eye color].

“Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

You didn’t know how to respond. 

Susie sighed, a ghost of a smile danced on her lips. “I like the sun. Before the fog, I used to live in a cold mountain town. Nothing but snow all year long. But sometimes, there were rare occasions where the sun would peak and flowers would bloom.”

Susie could feel her eyes get bleary, “It was so beautiful.”

And she took that beauty for granted. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, Susie brushed down her hair with her fingers. The feeling of weight pulling her down suddenly felt much lighter. Although she said too much for her own comfort, she didn’t regret it. She said enough to let her mind come back to reality. 

She will possibly never see Ormond again. No, not the worn down map conjured by the entity. That one was fake. The real Ormond. Her home. She will never go home and sit on her computer, reading fanfics, watching YouTubers, or conversing through online chats. She will always be here, in this pit of darkness where monsters killed and served for who knows how many eons.

She was okay with that though. Or at least, that’s what she tells herself until those overwhelming thoughts resurface. 

But when that happens, she knows she could just go find you again. 

Blowing a raspberry, Susie strolled over to you until you two were just a few feet apart. A nervous smile moved on her lips as she fidgeted under your intense gaze.

“You know, I can’t talk about these things with anyone.” 

She shouldn’t even be talking to you of all people. 

Susie tossed that thought to the back of her mind. Her fingers fiddled with the cuffs of her sweatshirt, as her eyes peered over at you anxiously. “You’re the only one I can talk to, so thank you.”

You said nothing, but Susie figured as much.

Scratching the back of her head, Susie took a few steps back. “Well, I should let you go now! You’re probably really busy, as usual.” 

Upon seeing you turn your head away from her, your eyes going over to the direction of the survivors side of camp with a curt nod, Susie’s lips curled up into a smile of relief. 

“Well, if that new guy ever gives you any more trouble, let me know! I will be sure to kidnap you again!” She grinned cheekily, walking in the direction of the killer's camp, but not before turning back to you one more time with a wave.

As Susie walked away, you stood still in silence. Your eyes glancing up at the empty sky, your mind thinking over the question the legion member had asked you. 

What did the sun feel like again?

Dark Devotion [Yandere! Dead By Daylight x Reader]

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

Five. Vigil

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wake up, Nancy! Wake up!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except it didn't end.

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

Quentin grit his teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

One, two, Freddy's coming for you

Three, four, better lock your door

Five, six, grab your crucifix

Seven, eight, better stay up late

Nine, ten, Freddy's back again

"Hey, Quentin. Did ya miss me?"

Quentin shot up in a cold sweat.

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

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

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

It didn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, what was he even doing?

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

"I'm tired."

The air fell silent.

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

"I see."

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

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

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

"-after I've entered the room."

He looked at you in disbelief, "What?"

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

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

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

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

"You know what? Nevermind."

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

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

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you want-?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is there a problem?"

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

"Yes."

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

"Why is that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quentin sighed, "They stopped working."

You were confused.

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

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

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

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

Other methods?

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

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

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

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

A ghost of a smile moved on his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quentin smiled, "She was amazing."

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

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

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

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

So that's what it was.

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

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

Quentin met your eyes and gave a hesitant nod.

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

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

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

Closing his eyes, the tired male tried to relax.

Key word: tried.

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

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

"I apologize."

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

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

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

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

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

Was it really possible to change you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, she was curious to know more about you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dark Devotion [Yandere! Dead By Daylight x Reader]

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

Six. Botany Knowledge

Once the sound of even breathing filled the silence of the room, you quietly stood up from your chair. The pierced scraping of wood scratching across the floor and itched at your ears. Your eyes briefly looked over the sleeping brunet, watching as his chest slowly rose and fell with every breath he took.

You could understand why he didn’t want to rest. For someone like you, sleep wasn’t necessary. You could stay awake for as many millennia as the realm remained without ever needing to rest. 

It wasn’t as if you couldn’t sleep though. You’ve just never tried. After all, if it wasn’t necessary, why bother?

It’s different for humans though. Since your creator had a very peculiar diet, you did everything you could to learn more about how to harvest the food source to its most beneficial potential. The more you learned about humanity, and the more you learned on how they functioned, the better you could do to ensure that the entity got to feast well. That’s why making sure the survivors were taken care of properly was one of your top priorities. 

Giving one last look to the sleeping survivor, you turned around and opened up the screen door; making your way over to the next row of cabins.

One by one you continued with your routine. You walked into each cabin, dropping off some bed sheets, and left just as quick as you had entered. It wasn’t long until you were finally down to the last cabin. 

Entering through the screen door, you were mindful to give the wooden door a gentle knock as you made your way inside. You looked around the room, your eyes searching for the brunette botanist, only for you to be met with another empty cabin.

Walking across the creaking wooden floors, your ears instantly picked up the sound of water droplets falling into a bigger body of water. You briefly gazed over to the woman’s desk where the source of the sound was coming from. Placing the neatly folded bedsheets on her bed, your focus went over to the table, intrigued by the contents that were scattered on the surface.

Dozens upon dozens of notes littered the desk. Papers scribbled with messages that started with ‘to me: from past me’ were written over in messy ink. Following the trail of papers, your eyes looked over the various plants spread over the window sill. Many of the herbs and flowers from the realm were planted into small tin cans with little noted descriptions of each flora written on a piece of paper taped to the wall. Each one of those notes had drawn diagrams of the plants, along with detailed paragraphs about the biology of each greenery and theories of what they did. 

All of the notes were so intricate and riveting that you found yourself immersed with all of the contents on the desk. Especially once your eyes caught sight of the very corner of the table where a bowl of water with a tubed outlet was placed. The tube allowed water to dribble out of the small hole and fall into another bowl of water that was placed underneath the desk.

Lifting a hand to the desk, your fingers lightly traced over the notes. Reading over the contents of scribbled passages with curious [eye color] eyes. You took in all of the information like a sponge. Not once did you take your attention away from the papers, not even when the cabin door swung open.

Claudette looked down at her hands with a tender smile.

Her fingers gently held onto the handle of her basket. Various flowers and herbs of unknown origin were bundled into the mahogany hamper. Her hands were scratched up with cuts and bandages, a few lumps and itchy rashes covered her dark skin, but she didn’t mind as she gazed down in awe at the mysterious bundle of flora.

Claudette had just gotten back from foraging around the camp. After the nice blonde woman named Kate had shown her around, Claudette had to excuse herself from the others. The wave of information of the realm had flooded her mind like a typhoon, and she needed an outlet to rethink everything she had just learned. 

She had gone back to the cabin Kate had said belonged to her. Upon entering, she had found herself staring at a desk with hundreds of notes written in her handwriting. All of the papers helped explain the situation to her in more detail. Not only that, but they also brought back some of her memories. 

She had died. 

She could still feel the pierced knives break through her skin. The many hooks that impaled into her shoulder, over and over again as she let out a horrid scream that scratched at the back of her throat. It sent shivers down her spine. Her breathing became disheveled and she began rocking back and forth while holding onto herself. Those memories were becoming overbearing. She couldn’t handle it. She needed to leave.

Once she had shakily grabbed her basket off the floor of her bed, Claudette ran out the door and sprinted into the forest. She ran and ran until the lights from the torches around the cabins began to fade, and she had found herself in the middle of the woods surrounded by towering trees and unfamiliar plants. After her heart settled back into an even pace, she began to recoup by throwing herself into the bundle of flowers.

With shaky hands, she studied the plants surrounding her, her once fearful brown eyes stared down at the flowers in awe. She was shocked to see how many of the flora looked like plants she had known back in her world. However, the plants in this realm were nothing like the ones she had studied. The flowers here were vastly different, glowing neon colors throughout the stems.

Memories of her life in the realm had slowly come back to her, but unlike the ones back in the cabin, these memories weren’t bad. They were fuzzy cut up images of her studying the flora of the realm. The recollection of broken memories were both comforting and familiar pieces of a puzzle that rose with each plant she encountered. She remembered how much she loved studying the flowers in the realm and how her knowledge in botany had helped not only her, but the others in this world. 

She also remembered that all of the plants in this realm were scientific anomalies that had her mind buzzing with questions. These flowers had different purposes, each purpose confusing her more and more as she dug through the dirt and pulled the roots of the plants from the ground to place in her basket.

She had explored the light fog until her basket was full to the brim with unknown greenery. Once satisfied, she went back to her cabin. She was no longer upset, but rather excited to study and learn about the nature of this new place once she was in the safe haven of her room.

All of that led to where she was now. As soon as she walked through the screen door, she paused. Claudette’s eyes widened a bit as she gazed upon the person standing by her desk. 

“Oh, hello.” She called out, placing the basket of plants by the door of the cabin. “Are you another survivor?” She asked with a small tilt of her head. 

You didn’t respond at first. Your eyes just intensely stared at one of her notes, as though you were contemplating on saying something. 

“I see your memories still haven’t returned.” You chose to respond before you finally brought your full attention to the botanist. “No. I’m not a survivor. I am the servant to the entity.”

“Servant?” She repeated, a frown formed on her face. She couldn’t quite remember you. Her memories were still a collection of broken fragments, but she did remember reading through her notes on things about you. 

You were the entity’s servant. The only being allowed to wander anywhere around the realm without being blocked off by an invisible wall. She didn’t know how old you were. What your name was. Or how you were even created. No one knew any of those questions. You were a complete mystery, much like your creator. 

All she knew about you was what she observed from the sidelines. And according to her notes, you were really nice and helpful. A little bit hard to talk to, but that could be blamed on herself since she was never the kind of person to easily talk to people. Other than that, she never thought one bad thing about you. If anything, her notes often wondered if you were anything like her. 

Claudette let a smile curve on her lips. “Oh, it’s you. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You shook your head, your eyes subtly trailing back to her desk. “Not at all. I was just dropping off some bed sheets.”

Claudette nodded. “Okay then. Well, thank you.”

The room was silent once more with Claudette looking at you and her eyes trailing over to her desk, anticipating for you to leave so she could continue to study her notes and bring back other memories to further study the plants within the fog. Although you said you were just there to drop off some bedsheets, you didn’t make any moves to leave after completing said task. You merely stood there, eyes glued to her notes. 

“You’re wrong.”

You finally spoke, your words catching Claudette off guard. 

“Huh?”

You pointed to one of her notes.

“The golden flowers. They don’t provide any aid to healing. However, they do grant one hundred percent bonuses to your currency.” You picked up one of the fragrant primrose flowers that was cut and strayed on the desk. You then twirled the stem of the flower in your hand, your eyes gazing down at the glowing golden petals.

Claudette’s eyes widened. Taking quick strides across the floor, she hastily picked up her notes, her eyes moving from her notes to the flowers between your fingers before her gaze met yours.

“Really? Because whenever I’d burn these offerings I would often feel like they had medicinal properties that would soothe injuries. I actually remember that feeling. I often felt like I was making a difference when it came to healing whenever I would offer the primrose to the campfire.”

You nodded, “Yes, I am certain that the primrose flora do not have any healing effects. What might make you think this could be a variety of factors such as your knowledge on botany or your ability to track injured survivors, however, I don't think that is exactly what you’re referring to.”

Claudette was quick to shake her head in protest, “No! I know the difference! When I would burn any of the plants in this realm, I can tell that it was doing something different, I just didn’t know what.”

“It’s the offering itself telling you what your main objective for that trial is.” You calmly explained. “For example, if you happen to burn a bog laurel flower, then you would feel the need to focus on generator repairs. If you burn a crispleaf amaranth, you would want to focus on escaping. Each offering motivates you to focus on an objective within the trials.”

Claudette gasped, “That makes so much sense!” 

She then fumbled through her papers, her fingers excitedly flipping through all of her notes until she pulled out a brand new sheet of paper. Grabbing a pen, the woman scribbled down the things you had just taught her. She could feel her head thump in pain. Memories of the things she learned from the realm were resurfacing. Thousands upon thousands of questions filled her mind, all in which crowded her thoughts as she turned her attention back to you. 

Regardless of how her head screamed at her, Claudette ignored the pain and grabbed some of her notes. The botanist then proceeded to push the papers into your hands.

“What about these notes? I’ve noticed that the leaves on the crispleaf are highlighted with crimson veins; that's not unusual since they’re amaranth flowers. But! What is unusual is that amaranth are short-lived perennials, or commonly known as annuals.” Claudette grabbed one of the amaranth flowers from the window sill. She brought the potted plant over to you, and carefully lifted it up to your eye level.

“If that were the case, then how come this one hasn’t died?” She then handed you the potted plant. You had to attentively tuck her notes into your arm as you held onto the shining tin of the planted amaranth. 

Claudette didn’t seem to notice you juggling between her things as she scurried back over to her desk and continued to pull out more papers. 

“The Amaranthaceae are a family of annual or perennial herbs. Depending on how the amaranth are stored and what species of amaranth they are, its lifespan can vary, but typically in a stored environment they can live up to a month or two. While in the wild they can live up to maybe a few weeks or months. The point is, the flowers themselves don’t live that long!”

Taking out the sheets of paper she was looking for, Claudette walked up to you and brought you a few charts. On the pages were tally marks scribbled across each line on the paper. Another page had squares with numbers and letters labeled ‘MTWTFSS’ along with a question mark on the top of each chart.

“What is this?” You asked, your eyes scanning over the paper, surprised and intrigued by the details of the notes.

“It’s my homemade calendar!” She exclaimed enthusiastically as she leaned over your shoulder. Her hand brushed against yours as she pointed at the different tally marks on the pages. 

“At first I started tracking time by using tally marks to show how many hours have passed in this realm, but since that got overwhelming, I’ve decided to keep track of time by making a calendar.” She then pointed at the corner of the paper, “Since I have no idea which month I’m in, I’ve decided to just label them all as question marks for the time being, but each one of my months have seventy three days and each day has thirty hours. It just makes things easier since there’s no leap year…or at least not that I know of.”

Scratching her head, Claudette continued, “My memories are still fuzzy, but from what I’ve read in my notes, I’ve learned about ancient civilizations and how some old customs used to use water as a means to tell time.” 

Claudette then left your side to pull out the journal that documented that day she had talked to the two scholars. Her eyes briefly read over the notes once more before she moved her attention back to you. “I had known this realm didn’t have a way to tell time. There are no clocks, there is no sun, and there aren’t any stars to track, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t at least try to record how much time had passed.”

Claudette then excitedly grabbed your wrist and brought you over to her desk. She went on to point at the large claymatic bowl you had previously been studying.

“See this here? This is a water clock, also called a clepsydras. I made it with the clay I molded from the dirt,” She spoke with a proud grin before continuing, “You see, I learned that many cultures used this method to track time,” She explained, her eyes looking through her notes. Claudette then crouched down, her hand still clamped around your wrist, bringing you down to level with her in front of the bowl of water placed on the floor. “There are two types of clepsydra. Inflow and outflow, both methods needing two large containers full of water. This right here just so happens to be an inflow type. You can tell because right here are marks for each hour.” She explained, her fingers pointing to the inside of the bowl where you can see numbers and lines marked across the clay. 

Claudette turned her head towards you. You could see how bright her brown eyes shined as she gazed at you with excitement. “With this method, I can track how many hours have passed in the realm!” She exclaimed, then paused. Her smile wavered a bit as she looked back at the water with her teeth lightly chewing on her lower lip, “Well, it’s not always accurate since I sometimes don’t make it out alive in trials and I come back to find my clock has overflowed, but it works enough for me to get a guess-stimate of how much time has passed.”

Her eyes then went to you and then the potted plant that was still resting in your hand.

“This is what brings me to my question. I know in some customs these flowers are said to be everlasting, immortal- they never die! But flower meanings aren’t facts. These are annual flowers and they aren’t supposed to last more than a few weeks, but they’ve surpassed that number! These annuals haven’t wilted since being planted! Why is that? Same question goes for all the other flowers that are supposed to be annuals!”

She scooted herself closer to you. You could see her cheeks flush with enthusiasm as she excitedly spoke in rapid words. 

“Does this have something to do with the biology of the flowers themselves? They aren’t exactly normal flowers, right? Or is it because the motion of time doesn’t exist here? I realized that like these plants, we don’t grow old. We don’t age no matter how much time has gone by! So far I’ve tracked that a few months have passed since I’ve created this clock, so it’s not a lot of time, but I can’t help but feel like it’s been maybe a few years…”

She then frowned, her mind began to stray for a moment, but before she could go back to any old memories of her previous life, Claudette shook her head. She didn’t want to think too hard on how long she’s been in the realm. What mattered was the present. So with her hands slapping her cheeks, she turned back to you.

“Well, that aside, I believe that we are like these plants,” Claudette brought her hand to her chin, her mind buzzing with questions that she let slip off her tongue.  

”I don't know how it is possible, but it seems as if we are somehow frozen in space and time. Everything I know about the science of how the universe works, it just doesn’t seem to apply to this place. It’s- it’s impossible. And yet, here I am experiencing it first hand…” Claudette pursed her lips, a deep frown settling on her face, “Does this mean that this place defies all laws of physics? I know time is technically just an illusion generated by the limitations of the way we perceive this universe, but still. Time is constant, and yet…”

Rubbing the space between her eyes, Claudette let out a tired sighed, “Oh wow, I shouldn’t be getting so worked up on this. After all, I’m no quantum physicist. I just have a love for the science field, so I don’t know why I started rambling. I doubt you’re even allowed to talk about this stuff, huh? ” She chuckled, moving her gaze to meet your stare.

As for you, you were honestly not expecting her to be so vocal after you had merely just corrected one of her notes. But here you were, sitting with her on the floor with your arms full of papers and a plant in your hand, having a one sided discussion over the nature of this realm. 

For a moment, you had no idea how to reply. There were certain rules that you couldn’t break. Ever since an incident with an old survivor, you couldn’t afford to make another mistake. Not if you wanted to disappoint your creator once more.

However, this survivor wasn’t like him. She was very intelligent, yes, but also carried herself in a way that was transparent. Much like you when you first emerged from the fog. So given what you’ve seen out of this survivor, you know that she is no threat to you. If anything, she could prove to be beneficial if you were to motivate her. 

“This realm is much different from your own. Think of everything you know about the properties that make up your universe, and disregard everything about it. This place isn’t your world. It is the entity’s.” You finally explained, voice stern as you faced the botanist, “Understand this, there are some things in this realm that I am forbidden to discuss, and there are some things that are just too vast for the human mind to comprehend. So know that I will do my best to answer any inquiries you have on this realm, and I’ll let you know if I am unable to answer.”

Claudette’s eyes widened and she took a deep breath. She was half expecting you to shut her down right away since that’s what you’re known to do when asked questions on the entity. Yet, here you were. You listened to her, you conversed with her, and you were ready to answer any questions she had (with some exceptions) but that's besides the point. 

It was unexpected, but it thrilled her. Her fingers fidgeted with the papers in her hand, but she wasn’t nervous. Instead, a fuzzy warm feeling bloomed in her chest, causing her lips to curve up into a bright, excited smile.

[Yandere! Dead By Daylight x Reader]

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

Eight. Thrilling Tremors

Danny has always loved the horror genre.

Ever since he was a child, his father would tell him real life horror stories. Those stories of a cat chasing a mouse. A predator hunting down prey. It was all the same stories that ended with a field of bloodshed and a victor that would rise above it all…and Danny was absolutely fascinated with each thrilling tale.

Mutilated bodies would engrave itself into his mind. Haunting scenes with vivid details would replay in his head like a broken flickering filmstrip. From the creepy music to the dramatic pauses, Danny would find his heart pounding in his chest with a wide smile curving on his lips as he became enamored with each piece of horror media he consumed.

However, the exhilaration of facing the unknown, the details from the unsettling sounds to the tense atmosphere— none of those things were his favorite part. And for a while, Danny actually wasn’t sure what he loved so much about the genre. He knew he loved true horror. The real stories of monsters that lurk in the night. The real boogeyman that blends into society. He was captivated by true, raw horror. 

So, that begged the question, was he simply just entertained by the reality of human nature? Did he just enjoy seeing how ‘civilized’ people would react to the real demons that ran around with the same blood that they bled? 

Or, did he simply love horror because it fed into his own bloodlust?

When Danny brought his first horror story to life, he knew he had found the answer. Although his first design was sloppy, it was still created with passion that was driven by instinct, and that was when Danny had come to a realization. 

Humans are animals. They are destructive by nature. As intelligent and ‘evolved’ as they may be, Danny knew that all humans have primal instincts, and those instincts were bloody and chaotic. Some may deny it, but Danny knew the truth. And if he was going to accept his human nature as a whole, he may as well be creative with it.

So, Danny went on with his life, loving every second of it. He loved existing as a human. He loved having the ability to create. And most of all, he loved creating real life horror stories. Obviously, his passion is looked down upon. But that doesn’t stop him. If anything, Danny was glad that the playing field was so small. It made it easier for his work to stick out, and it made his stories even scarier.

However, as much as Danny adored bringing terror to the public, he always had to be cautious of his work. His designs needed to be perfect. Any flaw could wind him up in the electric chair. So, even if he loved sharing his stories, Danny would often feel dread when he would have to lay low under the radar. After completing each design, Danny would have to stop his work for a while, and that often gave him an uncomfortable itch that would sometimes leave him wishing he could freely create his stories without feeling the burden of the consequences.

It was simply just wishful thinking during those impatient times, but unknown to Danny, his wishes would be heard.

So, one could only imagine the delight he felt the moment he was wrapped around in a fog, a darkness consuming him until his eyes met the flickering red and orange flame of a campfire where an other-worldly being had suddenly emerged. Stepping in front of him from beyond a black fog, you had gazed down at Danny with empty, soulless [eye color] eyes as you introduced him to a realm of nightmares. 

And Danny was absolutely ecstatic to be there.

Like an artist given his own studio with an endless supply of paints and canvas, Danny was given the opportunity to perfect as many designs as he desired. And so, he would carry on like that in the realm. Danny would create different horror stories for all the survivors on every single map. He even learned to adapt his designs so they would come out flawless! 

It was fun for a while, but then…Danny got bored.

Don’t get him mistaken though. He still loved creating his designs, but he craved for something more. He needed a bigger project. Something that would give him a challenge. Something that would be his Mona Lisa. 

And then, there was you. 

The very first being that Danny had met in the realm. The very first being that Danny knew was on a completely different scale from him. You were something that looked human, but you weren’t. You were something extraordinary. And you were the first being that would become Danny’s new passion project— his muse, if you will.

Thus, leaving Danny to where he is now. 

One of his arms wrapped around your torso, fingers clenched around the fabric of your blazer as he dug into your waist. His other hand was wrapped around your arm and chest, leveling his blade up to your eyes. A smile curved on his lips from behind his mask as he gazed at your reflection in the knife. You were completely unfazed, just as he expected.

“Did I get you this time?” He asked in a hush, observing every feature of your face.

You stared into your own reflection, your eyes moving from your own empty stare before flickering over to the killer behind you. Although you couldn’t see him, Danny could practically feel your eyes bore into him as if he weren’t even wearing a mask to begin with.

“No. I knew you were approaching three minutes ago.” You responded, monotone as ever as you kept your expression stoic.

Danny wasn’t surprised by this, but your response did intrigue him. He had been stalking you earlier, and his interest was piqued when he saw you very subtly reaching out for the flames, so he knew that something was going on in your mind. Just what exactly was it?

Raising a brow, the male tilted his head, “That’s two minutes off from usual.” His voice rasped out. Gripping your torso tighter, Danny brought the blade to your neck and traced the sharp edge over your skin. His eyes focused on your reaction. “What’s on your mind?”

“Is this your question for our game?” You instead inquired, causing Danny to pause in thought.

Right.

Ever since Danny has made you his muse, he took it upon himself to learn everything about you so he could create the perfect design. After all, his first attempt didn’t go exactly as planned… so, he tried a new method— he made it a game between the two of you. He will be merciless in trials, and in exchange, he gets to ask you questions about yourself. 

Obviously, you accepted those terms. And so, he began with the obvious. 

“What is your name?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Where did you come from?”

“My creator.”

“Who is your creator?”

“The entity.”

“Why did she create you?”

“To serve.”

You were honest, but dry. He wasn’t sure if you were just clever to be wary of him, or if you truly couldn’t comprehend anything other than to follow orders. Regardless, Danny didn’t like that you gave him the obvious answers. You weren’t playing fair. Why should he be merciless in trials for you if you were just going to give him the copy and paste answers that you gave to every other killer and survivor?

So, he had to try something else.

He needed to dig deeper. More personal. He needed just a sliver of space that he could crawl his way into so he could witness just a glimpse into your mind. So far he had been asking all of the practical stuff, and up till now that’s gotten him nowhere since the start of his passion project. Not as if he was in any rush to start his design, of course. Danny is quite a patient man by nature, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting annoyed by how bland you were being with him. 

Looking over your empty stare, Danny took a moment to study you. 

Danny is a people person. So he knew how to read people no matter the poker face, and you were no exception. Memorizing every detail of your features, the man could say with confidence that he could probably draw your face from memory. From the patterns in your irises, to any subtle wrinkle on your face. Danny had learned how to read your face. It was just getting you to change just the smallest detail that was the issue.

He needed you to open up. But how?

With his knife held tightly in his hand, Danny let out low, quiet breaths until finally he made a decision.

“Yeah,” he finally chuckled out, “This is my question for our game. What is on your mind right now?”

You still hadn’t moved, but your eyes did briefly glance over the masked killer once more before setting your stare to the fire in front of you where the flames highlighted your [skin tone] skin in a golden hue. 

“I’ve come to realize that I’ve long forgotten what ‘warmth’ feels like.” You spoke, a sort of interest lined within your words. 

This caught Danny’s attention. 

For as long as he’s studied you, he has not once heard or seen you show any kind of interest other than your assigned tasks. So having witnessed your fingers brushing over the campfire, and hearing the very subtle change in your tone, it hooked him in.

“I didn’t even realize you knew what that felt like.” He spoke, keeping a steady grip on his knife. “I thought you said you couldn’t feel anything.”

You took note of his slight change of demeanor, but you remained impassive as you hummed in response.

“Yes, well, I have felt cold before and I have felt warmth before, but it was a long while back.” You paused for a moment, “perhaps a few eons ago.”

“Oh?” Danny perked up, his blade ever so slightly pressing against your skin. His heart was beating quickly with excitement now that he seemed to finally be getting somewhere with you.

“And what might’ve made you lose your senses?” He asked, and for once in a very long time, Danny’s pupils dilated the moment he saw the faintest flicker of emotion appear in your eyes. 

Those usually vacant pools of [eye color]— they widened a bit. The colors brightened and he could see the crinkle at the very corner of your eyes shift from a misty void to a clear display of loss.

“I’m..unsure.”

Your voice, usually crisp and clear, seemed to have wavered a bit, leaving Danny with his heart pounding against his chest.

There. There it was.

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the whole thing, but he swore for the first time that he saw a moment of weakness.

Danny hadn’t meant to do it. But he couldn’t help it. He pressed his knife hard against your skin. He felt a rush of adrenaline as he pressed the blade into your neck and pierce into your flesh.

He could see the blood trickle down your skin. That deep maroon color dribbling down your clear [skin tone] collarbone and staining your white dress shirt. He could practically smell the iron that stained his blade as he continued to press his knife deeper and deeper before twisting the handle and tearing it across your neck, practically decapitating your head from the rest of your body. 

Holding onto your torso tighter, Danny closed his eyes and savored the sounds of the quiet forest air that was filled with music from your choked gurgles.

Except… that wasn’t what happened.

For the moment his knife pressed into your neck, the blade instantly shattered.

Just like his first attempt on your life, any weapon that would try and penetrate your skin would instantly break like glass. 

Danny watched in stupor as shards of his blade fell into little bits and pieces onto the foggy ground. He was still in a daze, but much like his fallen knife, his illusion was shattered and left him standing behind you with his heart racing and mind numb from exhilaration. 

A long and heavy pause would ring in the forest air. Nothing but the sound of fire crackling would be heard as the two of you stood in silence.

While the killer was coming down from his high, you, on the other hand, stood there unconcerned. If anything, you had foreseen this coming from the moment The Ghostface tried to kill you the first time he brought a blade to your chest. You just figured he would try a different strategy since he wasn’t as bloodthirsty and adamant as The Shape. 

With your vision still fixated on the fire, you briefly moved your attention to the shattered blade on the ground before quickly looking back at the fire. Your body was still in the hands of Ghostface, granted his hold on you had loosened up, but you still kept yourself still as you looked over your shoulder to meet the masked killer’s eyes.

“It seems that you’ve accidentally shattered your knife again.” You commented, finally snapping Danny back to reality. 

Letting his arms fall to his side, Danny took a step back. He was pissed. He was so fucking angry that he didn’t get to actually tear into your throat. He didn’t actually get to experience seeing you bleed and die in his arms. 

However, as Danny stood silently behind you, from behind his mask, the man was practically glowing with joy. A smile was on his face as a breathless chuckle left his lips.

He was also very relieved. 

This is why you were his Mona Lisa. This is why he picked you to begin with. He was so glad you were going to be a challenge. If he had actually killed you, Danny was sure he’d make sure your body would rot from where you stood. But no. Danny was smart. There was a reason he chose you instead of one of the other survivors or killers in the realm. 

Letting out an airy laugh, Danny brought a hand to his head and ruffled his black hair from under his hood. 

He knew he made the right decision in choosing you.

While Danny laughed to himself, you simply stood there and observed. 

Humans, they were so odd. 

You know the sound he was making was that of laughter. You may not understand human nature, but you knew enough to realize that he was showing signs of amusement. You just couldn’t understand from what.

Once Danny settled down, the male finally looked over at you with a tilt of his head.

“This is why you’re my muse.” He commented with a sigh, and walked over to your side.

You couldn’t quite wrap your head around his interesting choice of words, but you didn’t get to dwell on it when he brought a hand to your shoulder. With his attention on his knife, Danny tilted his head in your direction.

“Do you mind?”

You blinked, “Mind?”

He smiled, “Fixing my knife. Can you work your magic again, sweetheart?”

“Oh.” Your eyes then flickered back to the blade broken into pieces on the ground at your feet. “Of course.”

Crouching down, you grabbed the handle of the knife and the biggest part of the blade. With your eyes glowing a [eye color] hue, a fog of black with golden particles floated into your hands and covered the broken pieces.

Danny watched in awe as his once shattered blade came back brand new. 

Again, he was practically grinning from ear to ear as he found that he was going to create the perfect design all for you. He was already buzzing with excitement just to see more of you. Whether you had or hadn’t actually expressed something earlier, Danny knew that either way you were already destined to be killed by his hands, and he was going to make sure that your death was going to be flawless.

Standing back up, you presented the knife to the killer, “Here you go.”

Carefully, Danny took the knife and twirled it in his hand. 

“Good as new,” he breathed out while practicing his jabs into the open air. With a smile, Danny pocketed the knife before turning his attention to you. “Thank you. Hope that didn’t take a lot out of you.”

You shook your head, “Not at all. If you need any more repairs to any of your weapons, I am here to assist.”

“Right, right. I’ll remember that,” Danny expressed lamely, before bringing a hand to his pocket. Still having his blood pumping vigorously through his veins, the male was nearly itching to start his trial. So digging into his pocket, Danny brought out three items: a chewed up pen, his old driver’s license, and originally he planned on taking out a shiny broken coin, but after the illusion of killing you, the killer was just driven by his murderous instincts to kill by his own hands.

So instead, the male brought out a bag. Opening up the small coin bag, Danny took a quick peek at the glowing red triangles and brought it over to you. 

“Do you think I can buy an offering?”

Your eyes not once wavered from his mask as you took his bag. With your eyes briefly flickering down to scan the bag, you kept your voice firm upon returning your attention to him, “What would you like?”

Danny’s eyes were feral and bloodshot. His smile was hurting his cheeks as he already began plotting his next few designs. He may not have been able to kill you today, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to create a horror story at all.

So with his head tilting playfully, Danny let out a raspy, shuddered breath. 

“I want a memento mori.”

You nodded. And again, the crawling mist all around the two of you swirled with life. It was comical to Danny. Because while a human skull was formed within your hands, the air around reeked of rotting death.

Breathing in the fog, Danny closed his eyes and relished in the silence of the blowing wind that moved the black mist. If he listened closely, Danny swore that he could hear ghastly whispers move with the rustling forest leaves.

Then, it was silent once more.

Opening his eyes, Danny turned his attention to you. He watched as you stared back into the campfire. With the glow of the fire highlighting your features, Danny took note of your expression.

He couldn’t read you again. You were as emotionless as a doll. Simply standing there with a pretty, flawless mask.

Flickering his attention from your side profile and back down to the skull in your open palms, Danny silently took the skull from your hands and tossed his pen, license, and skull into the campfire where the flames burst with life and shrilled a loud shrieks before returning to crackles. 

As Danny stood next to you at the campfire, the male kept his attention straight at the dancing fire. He wanted to get the trial started as soon as possible, while he was still in a pleasant mood.