#Wraith x reader

[dabiekql]

Recommendation - Slashers/Dead by Daylight/Monsters

Navigation

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🔪 Slasher

Ghostface! Ethan - Sleepy

Ghostface - Middle of the Night

Yandere! Ghostface (NSFW)

Brahms - Guard Dog

Brahms - Save Me

Brahms - I'll Protect You

Bramhs - Aftermath

Brahms - The Real You

Brahms - He Reveals Himself and You Panic (NSFW)

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🎮 DBD

Ghostface - Smile for Me, Sweetcheeks

Self-Aware! Ghostface and the Player Headcanons

Pyramid Head x Innocent Reader (Platonic!)

Pyramid Head - Whipped For and In Love With Survivor! Reader

Wraith With a Survivor Who Constantly Runs Into Him

Killers Reacting to Their S/O Getting Used as a Shield Against His Attacks

Killers Protecting Their S/O

Wraith, Doctor, Pyramid Head - Silent Treatments After Misunderstanding

Deathslinger, Wraith, Doctor, Pyramid Head - Breaking Up Prank

Max, Kazan, Anna - DBD Killers with a Scared! Reader

Trickster, Wraith, Doctor, Pyramid Head - When S/O is Injured Because of Someone Else

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👹 Monster

Masked Trespasser - Masked / Part 2 / Part 3

Male Monster - The Demon Childhood Friend (Series?)

Satyr God - Servantly Duties

Male! Werewolf - Senses Working Overtime

Male! Werewolf - A Different Scent

[writer-freak]

Hi! If it's ok with you, (spoilers for Hooked On You, that DBD dating sim)

In one of the endings you get appointed as Jr. Deputy Entity and left in charge while The Entity goes on vacation.

Anyway, can I request Philip Ojomo with a reader that has been left in charge as The Entity's replacement? It doesn't have to be in the Hooked On You version, I actually think it may be more interesting in the context of the original Dead By Daylight.

You can include any other characters you want, but I'm mostly interested in The Wraith to be honest.

Thanks in advance!

Thank you so much, I wrote it in the original Dead by daylight universe and made it more angsty and open ended. If this isn't what you had in mind feel free to request again <3.

You never expected to be left in charge.

One moment, the trials were running as normal, Killers hunting, Survivors scrambling, the cycle of life and death playing out just as the Entity demanded.

The next, the Entity itself, the one forcing you to repeat this never ending horror, simply left. No explanation. No grand spectacle. Just a vague notion of "vacation" and an unsettling sense of absence.

The weight of its realm ended up onto your shoulders like a heavy cloak, suffocating and cold.

The killers felt it immediately. Some stopped mid-hunt, heads tilting toward the sky as if they could sense the shift. The ever-present hum of the Entity's hunger faded to a dull, distant echo, and something in the air loosened like a thread loosening.

Now you were watching the trials below with an unsteady heart. The twisted landscape plays beneath your gaze, looping through broken realms, endless loops of suffering. The fog seems thicker, more restless, curling around your ankles like it’s waiting for direction.

You’re supposed to give it.

A low clang echoes behind you, distant and metallic. You turn just as Philip Ojomo, The Wraith, emerges from the mist.

His weapon dangles loosely from his hand, fingers curled around the rusted metal like it might slip away. He just stands there watching, the same way he always does like he’s looking through you, seeing the pieces no one else does.

"What does this mean for us?" he finally asks, voice low and rough.

It takes you a second to find words.

"I... don’t know yet."

Philip steps closer, his big frame that shadowed you should be frightening, but somehow it comforted you. He’s careful with his movements, like he knows the strength he carries and doesn’t want to wield it recklessly. The bell in his hand lets out a faint, ghostly chime as he shifts.

"You control the trials now?" he asks, voice echoing in the stillness.

"I guess so. The Entity didn’t exactly leave me a handbook." You try for humor, but it falls flat.

Philip is silent for a long time, his head tilting slightly. You wonder what he’s thinking if he’s debating killing you right here, testing if you're really the one in charge. But he doesn't move. Instead, he lets out a low breath, almost like a sigh.

"You shouldn’t stay out here" he mutters, glancing at the fog getting thicker around you two. "The others... they’re restless."

You swallow hard. You already know that.

The Trapper has been more brutal than usual, dragging trials out for hours, his traps placed with sadistic precision. The Huntress hums her lullabies louder, her axe swings growing reckless and wild. The Killers are testing limits, waiting to see what happens when they push too far.

Waiting to see if you’ll stop them.

"Let them be restless" you say, voice quieter than you want it to be. "I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do."

"You could stop this" he says carefully, like he’s afraid of the words. "You could change everything."

Your chest tightens.

"I don’t know if I should" you admit. "The Entity’s coming back. Eventually. And when it does..." You trail off, throat tight, rubbing your arms like you can chase away the cold creeping in from the fog. "If I change things... if I mess this up... what do you think it’ll do to me?"

Philip’s fingers twitch around the handle of his weapon.

"You’re scared" he states, voice quiet. Not accusatory. Just... understanding.

"Of course I am." You let out a bitter laugh, swiping a hand down your face. "I don’t belong here. I don’t know why I got stuck with this. I’m not a god. I’m not the Entity. I’m just... me."

Philip watches you, his gaze heavy. He takes a small step forward, then another, until he’s close enough that the chill radiating off his body seeps into your skin.

"We’re scared too" he finally says, voice barely above a whisper.

You blink up at him, throat tight.

"You?" you echo, barely believing it. "But you’ve been here forever. What could you possibly be scared of?"

Philip glances away, jaw tight. He rolls his shoulders, fingers flexing like he’s trying to shake off an ache buried deep beneath the surface.

"When it comes back," he mutters, "if it doesn’t like what you’ve done... it won’t just punish you." His voice goes lower, rougher, as he looks back at you. "It’ll punish all of us."

The words sink in like stones.

You stare at him, heart pounding in your chest. He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t need to. You already understand what he means. The trials could get worse. The punishments harsher. The Entity could stretch out its claws and twist this place into something even more brutal than before because of you.

Philip shifts, his clothes rustling as he turns away from you, like he can’t quite meet your gaze.

"But if you try to help" he says carefully, "even just a little... we’ll take the risk."

You bite the inside of your cheek, your pulse hammering in your ears.

"You’d risk making it angry?" you whisper.

Philip nods, slow and deliberate.

"For you?" he rasps. "Yes."

The fog curls tighter around your ankles, tendrils lapping at your boots like cold fingers. The realm is watching, waiting, listening. But Philip is the only thing you focus on the weight of his words, the faint tremor in his voice.

"What do you want me to do, Philip?"

His eyes darken, and he doesn’t answer right away. He lifts his weapon again, fingers curling around the handle. The metal is tarnished with blood and rust, a reminder of what he’s done, what he’s been forced to do.

"You could free us" he says eventually, voice barely a whisper. "Or you could let it continue."

He shifts, stepping back, the fog swallowing part of his figure.

"Either way," he mutters, "we’ll follow you now."

He fades into the mist with a low, distant chime of the bell, leaving you standing there with a thousand unanswered questions, the weight of an entire realm pressing down on you and a choice heavier than anything in the realm itself.

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

[sharksnshakes]

Killers' Big Spoon vs. Little Spoon! HCs

Everybody has a soft spot. Even killers in the fog... right?

AN; still very conflicted over some of 'em but fuck it we ball. monstercuddlers, your time is now

TW; none i can think of

Big spoon

CALEB QUINN, Frank Morrison, Ji-Woon Hak, Albert Wesker, Herman Carter, Pinhead

Little spoon

Philip Ojomo, Max Thompson Jr.

Both

EVAN MACMILLAN, JOEY, Pyramid Head, Danny Johnson, Kazan Yamaoka

Would never be caught dead cuddling with anybody (or so they say)

ALBERT WESKER, Danny Johnson, Kazan Yamaoka, Evan MacMillan

...What do spoons have to do with cuddling?

Freddy Kreuger, Michael Myers, Pinhead, Max Thompson Jr.

[fandomnerd9602]

Can I request an Yuri watanabe (wraith or cop) x male Spider-Man reader where he takes Yuri to bed, yuri metions she still has a pair of handcuffs to play with?

Yuri pushes Y/N against the wall...

The two exchange heated kisses, enjoying every second with one another...

Yuri: a hero deserves a little reward every now and then

Y/N: and a cop deserves some love too

Yuri: I still have my handcuffs. never had a pair on me before

Y/N: lead the way

Yuri guides Y/N into their bedroom...

[slashersgostabbystabstab]

Wraith NSFW HC’s

My thoughts are that Philip is a virgin, always kept to himself/minded his own business before being brought into the Entity’s realm. I could only say this was otherwise if he had an S/O Pre-Entity. So, Philip doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but becoming the Wraith has kicked in a few…instincts 

Because of this, it’s quite easy to seduce him. One stroke of his partner’s hand or a shot of bedroom eyes and he’s already following right behind them

Somewhat sensitive to the touch, so he’d be putty in their hands(unless the aforementioned instincts kick in…~)

Philip has two sides to him when it comes to sex: the soft and passionate side, or the animalistic one with a carnal need

When being soft and passionate:

He’s very gentle, so patient, treating his partner like complete royalty. They are all that matters in that moment.

Philip usually likes to set the mood, this being why the Blood Lodge is one of the best places to have some nice and slow sex

There are so many kisses and touches involved. He’s the type to melt in an instant, but his treatments are more than enough to turn the tables on his partner, even the sounds he makes are comforting enough.

Philip is probably the king of aftercare, nobody does it like he does. He’s so kind, tends to his partner’s every needs no matter how tired he is

When being animalistic:

This side of him can be brought out after or during trials, or with some predator+prey role play. It gets his adrenaline pumping and it’s almost like he loses himself, becomes the hungry Wraith who’ll have his partner shaking after some rough sex

Speaking of “during trials”, Philip’s S/O can get him desperate enough to bend them over where he knows the other survivors won’t see(or perhaps…he won’t care if they do) and pound away. That is all he is going to focus on.

Entity Displeased? Well, Philip and his partner ended up more than pleased.

So many sounds…he growls, grunts, hisses, pants in such ways that things can get wild. Philip can go as far as latching onto things and making many, deep scratch marks as well as dents if the pleasure’s too good and he’s slamming his fists.

In this case, he’s not entirely the best at aftercare, but he still tries to do it. It takes him a while to get the adrenaline back down, but he’d just be holding his partner in a rather territorial manner as he pants in their ear.

He’s so touch-starved and even self-conscious over his Wraith appearance, so he always wants to be having his hands all over his partner. If he could bring himself to speak more, you can bet he’d be praising his partner every second of the way

Back to the self-consciousness, his partner worshipping him? Oh y god, oh my god…Philip wouldn’t have to be touched in any way, that alone could make him melt into a puddle and even climax (faster)

His partner moaning really goads him, but calling out his name? No matter the kind of sex they’re having, it’s going to encourage him to go all out, even more than he’s already giving

Philip is more of a giver, so he’s always down to perform oral on his partner. They’re always the priority, so their pleasure always comes first.

Performing oral on Philip however, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. His partner can have him releasing instantly by looking up at him while doing so(as if he’ll have the control to look down at them hehe)

Lets his partner take control but wouldn’t mind reversing the roles, is even fine with the two of them being…lazy

Usually prefers things to be done in private, but is willing to be a bit risky(his feral self won’t even hesitate to do just that)

He just has to be looking at his partner while doing the deed, feral or soft Philip. Moans and his name being called out isn’t always enough, looking at his partner(preferably while they ride him) is a huge thing for him. Loves to see their reactions, just looking at them ever so lovingly is heaven for him

[angelatmidnight1]

Hi :) hope you’re doing fine!

Are you going to continue give me a reason? With Wraith? If not, then can I request it? 🧎🏽‍♀️

A/N- I'm back and super rusty. I hope these are to your liking! If not I can try to redo it. This part will only include Wraith as I'm trying to get back into the swing of things.

Give Me A Reason- Part 5- Wraith

Tickling others isn’t something that Wraith usually does. After Singh, she found it difficult to trust and connect with others.

She’s been a witness to many Legends’ shenanigans and tickle fights, but it’s not something she participated in, even when prompted.  

There was one time where Wraith wanted a quiet night in with her book. Instead, somewhere on the dropship, there was a scream, some lights flickered, and you shortly burst into the room. 

You’d startled Wattson good and was on the run. You didn’t account for Renee helping you, but you hurried over to her anyway, a wobbly grin on your face. 

“Help me,” you pleaded, constantly peeking behind you for the engineer. “Natalie’s after me. I need to hide.”

Wraith sighed, slowly shaking her head. She looked up from her book with a neutral expression. “What did you do this time?”

But before you could explain, Wattson stormed into the room after you, a playful fury in her eyes. You made a last ditch attempt to run, but she quickly caught up to you. 

“Oh non!” she yelled. Her hair was still sticking up from residue static electricity. “You’re not going anywhere!”

That was Wraith’s cue to leave. While you were pinned down and laughing your head off, the voidwalker headed for the exit. That is, until Nat called out to her. 

“Hey, do you wanna help, Renee?” Wattson grinned. All the while, her hands jumped from one tickle spot to the other, making you cackle and scream. “It’s fun! Plus, (Y/N) deserves it.”

Wraith waved her hand dismissively. “No thanks,” she answered, chuckling. “I’ll take your word for it.”

After Natalie made you apologize for scaring her, the gears in your head started turning. Did Wraith ever laugh? Sure, you’d hear her chuckle every now and then, but not ever laugh. Hell, even Revenant laughed when he got a kill. 

You made it your mission, however unlikely, to make the voidwalker laugh. But, she didn’t make it easy. 

Sneaking up on her was impossible. Every time you tried, she’d turn around at the last minute and give you a blank stare. Still, you were determined. 

However, after the third failed attempt, Wraith was less than enthused by your efforts. This time, you’d squeezed into a corridor that Pathfinder couldn’t even get his grapple through, trying to get the jump on her. And, without much of a surprise, you were stuck. 

“(Y/N), really? Again?” Wraith groaned. She pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “I already knew you were in here. I just didn’t expect you to try and go through there.”

You gave her a sheepish smile. You would’ve shrugged your shoulders too, but your arms were stuck. “Alright, alright. Guilty as charged. I won’t try to scare you anymore,” you said, snickering. “But uh, could you help me get out of here? I’m, well, stuck.”

Renee debated on leaving you to your fate. She ultimately decided that the least she could do was help you out of your own mistake. Without another word, she stepped forward and grabbed your hips, pulling you forward. 

The way her thumbs pressed into your skin tickled, and as much as you tried to keep it together, you fidgeted out of her hold. 

Renee wasn’t deterred. She gently grabbed your sides instead, making you squeak. This made her chuckle. “Huh, so Nat was right, you are really sensitive..”

Your face flushed immediately. This wasn’t what you had in mind when you’d come up with the idea to make her laugh. In fact, this was the exact opposite of what you’d planned!

“I--well, okahay--you’re still gonna help me, right?” You stammered, blinking up at the voidwalker. She nodded, but that slight smirk made you nervous. 

“Yeah, I will. Just…try and hold still, okay?”

For someone who has very little tickling experience, Renee is quite good at it. She has a gentle touch that somehow works its way through every ticklish nerve. 

She’s on the quieter side as far as ‘lers go, but that subtle, amused smirk is plenty flustering on its own. Whatever she does say comes out in a low whisper.

By the time you’re laughing, she honestly could’ve gotten you out ages ago. She was just amused by your squeaks and giggles. “There we go,” she said after you were freed. “You should be good now. But next time, don’t try to squeeze into a space that small.”

You listened to her…mostly. But over time, as you got closer to the voidwalker, you couldn’t help but to mess with her again. 

You couldn’t help it; the scarf was right there, completely unattended. Wraith only put it down for a moment while she changed into more casual clothing. 

You picked it up and looped it around your neck, marveling at its softness, only to turn around and see the voidwalker standing there. 

“What are you doing with my scarf, (Y/N)?”

You faltered, tripping over your own words only to jokingly say that you were cold. Wraith rolled her eyes without malice. 

“Alright, hand it—”

And you were gone. You engaged someone who could literally cut through realities in an all-out chase. Not a great move for you, but a great one for her. 

Renee let you get a head start, letting you think that you were in the clear, only to literally materialize next to you and drag you through the portal with her. 

The last thing you heard was a quiet, satisfied “Caught you~” before the room was filled with the sound of your own laughter. 

Wraith never guessed that she’d participate in these softer moments with the other Legends in any reality. The world’s that she’s used to are often dark and cold. But maybe with the right push, Renee’s able to take the lighter path.

[the-faceless-bride]

No poly? (for Wrath and Nurse)

Ohhh, maybe? Would anyone be interested for it to turn poly?

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

Saving deja vu

Philip Ojomo x Reader Y/N

tags: Fluff, Dark, painful memories, mentions of death, gentle kiss

I'm new here, I'm bad at designing posts. I hope the post will be readable and all the Wraith's favorites will see it. Enjoy reading!

The generator is almost repaired, it remains to connect the last wires, the heart begins to accelerate the rhythm.

    Silence.

– One, one left... – Y/n mutters almost in a whisper, only moving her lips.

    Silence. She scares, makes you sit in suspense, pricking up your ears. Sometimes silence is even scarier than death itself.

    Y/N hates silence.

She was left alone. Everyone bleeds on dirty hooks. Are they still hoping for salvation? Would she have the courage to save at least someone?

    Her throat is dry, and she tries to breathe as quietly as possible. Nervously looks back – but there is no one there. And not a single movement, not a sound. Even the dry grass does not rustle.

   Although they are also playing against a Wraith, who in a few minutes sneaked up on Bill, right at the generator, caught up with Feng and Dwight from behind. He is no less dangerous than the others. And if such as a Hunter, noticeable from afar, a Hillbilly whose chainsaw is heard all over the neighborhood, then he is literally your shadow, chasing everywhere, but giving the moment to attack. And the fact that you don't feel safe, it puts a lot of pressure on your mind.

     The poisonous, artificial sun has started to get hot, or so it seems to her.

«Feng is on the hook nearby, behind the barn, I will be able to save her, and then we will split up to different gates...»

Before Y/N's conscience could reproach her for her dishonorable escape alone, there was a terrible ringing of a tambourine behind her.

«Holy shit!»

   There was very little left for a complete repair of the generator, as much as a nimble killer to get to it. She won't make it, she won't make it any more.

«NO, NO!» – thoughts screamed madly, fear was harassing the soul, already grabbing it with spider paws.

“Why, why exactly on the verge of hope! Why did you wait, damn you?!„

   It was insulting and annoying, and then anger covered over, overriding other feelings, including fear. It has always been so. There were no barriers to Y/N's rage. Emotionally unstable, this is her lifelong heaviness, an immortal part of her.

    They are just worthless dolls, not just entities, but the hunters themselves, who... Just smaller pawns who don't know how to do almost anything. Except for: running away, screaming from the ghostly pain in the bleeding wounds, which are like real, but the next round will be tightened again, as if they did not exist. But the wounds in the soul remain, and when there is no living place left on it, and they will break, they will just ...

With a furious growl, she turns towards the sound, with the desire to throw out the emotions that have simply rolled over, but the fierce words will get stuck in her throat.

“Well, will you kill me, bastard?! Come on, damn it, I don't care anymore!„

    He scares with one look, tall and almost imperceptible. Even now, when the tambourine has already rung in his hands. His eyes through the mask with incomprehensible growths shine white mad, capable of piercing the artificial night of the Essence and right now they are the ones that sting the soul. They are practically no decayed mirrors of a burnt soul. Azarov's axe in the form of a repulsive human spine bleeds black, blood that casts a kind of rust in the farmer's sun.

   A dark old mask with white stripes masks the dead face of a man who once had no soul.

    Behind it hides a dead yellowed face that no one has ever loved. But one day, maybe...

   How does an Entity choose murderers?

It just takes sinners with mutilated souls and tears them to pieces completely, mutilates them, leaving only some former parts of the body, giving a new appearance before releasing them into the arena as hounds.

   Fear. So sticky and really ghostly, it just made me feel creepy when I looked at this unfortunate, no, maniac.

    And she stands, as motionless as he is. And there's plenty of time. The generator is already standing behind, forgotten and unnecessary. He is absent from thoughts.

    A slight rustle, the rustle of clothes, which the fleeing victim hardly caught - just not up to it. Small, unhurried steps towards the waiting girl.

   Not victims.

   Along with the light right now, the rage and cruelty aimed at killing has passed. The trace of it is only blood. But even then, the mutilated heart was not beating under the influence of adrenaline from the chase. It was always weak, just like an old and ancient mechanism, beating in a spacious, dried-up chest. Not knowing heat and light. Cold, like an empty and damp cell in eternal winter.

   She can't hear his breathing under the mask, and not even a sound comes from the killer's counterpart. He waits in silence, slowly inhaling oxygen into his lungs for old times' sake. He is not here and this is an attempt by the entity to make its measurements look like real ones.

   Somewhere on the edge of Ojomo's consciousness, faded visions of the past were huddled. No, not the ones when he repaired cars and processed scrap metal, but a little different time. A new beginning, in which hope shone with a pure, bright light.

    And now the agony and rage are all evaporating. It's like she's a lemon that's been squeezed to the last drop. And as if there is no greed inherent in her life, as if only her shell with a small fraction of reason remained.

   She is a pure, innocent soul.

   Touches responded in the mind, the subconscious with a bright flash of deja vu, which also abruptly faded, not giving the opportunity to see itself. The past. He was also deprived, forcibly taken away from him, the most significant part of a person. The victims have only the traits of temperament that have grown to their essence, their human vices and sins, or maybe the echoes of painful events that influenced those very habits. Well, and, a specialty like Claudette, who devoted her whole life to science. Sometimes they go hand in hand. Bill, when he was in Vietnam, was it self-esteem...

these episodes could not be amnesia, no. No way. That piece of Y/n's past can't be missed, no. Episodes, if you realize that their second participant is a murderer, are covered with a crust of nasty moss, exude gloomy horror.

    But she is not going to be afraid of him, she is not going to perceive him as a bloodthirsty hunter, a stupid toy of the Essence.

    And no, she won't regret it.

It presses harder into the fabric of the torn raincoat, tormented by time. There is a pressure in her movements to stay here longer. Both of them.

    Fragments of the past cut through the clouded consciousness of the hunter, returning to him a share of the light of his past life, returned humanity to him.

The silence of the killer ends when in the reality of the Spider, and not in his memories, he feels someone's warmth next to him. Human. Pleasant.

   Involuntarily, he shudders, not used to it in any way.

It is a blessing, this dumb joy that in the cruel world of Essence you have understood everything, as if you realized a dream, although you do not yet know how to get out of it, how to wake up.

    But the sure weapon chasing him from the dark part of the past is still in his hands. The ghost squints at him, feeling terrible hatred inside, and in the next seconds he throws him somewhere to the side, where he will get lost in the dry grass. But it won't disappear. At least for a little while, until the satisfied, satiated lady of this world takes away the third person who did not survive and until the hatch opens, does not succumb to the power on the Gate...

   Again returns her gaze to Y/N's, who entered his life as unexpectedly as then, or rather, returned. There was a hint of hope in her eyes, and now glee lit up when she saw that he was unarmed. Philip, bypassing her, raises his leg and hits the generator several times, causing the Survivor some surprise. Now the device is motionless and unscientific. Hush.

  He turned around and gently, unhurriedly grabbed her just below the ribs, lifted her in his arms. While there is still time... And he put them on the generator, now their faces were on the same level. Her eyes–expressive green, now looked straight into his white abysses. She tried to remember what the man's memories were like, what they had been like before, but to no avail. And then Y/N began to examine the mutilated and dark, like the mist itself, face. Irregularities, thin, barely noticeable lips and a neat nose. White stripes crisscrossed it, as if uneven paint strokes had been applied to it. And above that, strange growths rose up on the forehead, as if real wax had merged with the body. It wasn't scary, like everything else. It only caused sorrow and sadness. The girl only wanted to squeeze into him more, grab him in an embrace, feel that native warmth again, calm down and take away his pain. Forget about your own.

    As if reading her thoughts, Ojomo touches first. His hands slid higher on his shoulder blades, hesitantly and unhurriedly. He did not dare to touch other places, especially his thighs, he decided that this gesture would be rude and...

   As if receiving a new breath of air, the girl clung to him, wrapping her arms around him, feeling the old fabric of the cloak under her fingers, pulling him closer to her. She pressed her chest, as if finding her salvation. Without thinking about anything, she distinctly felt the booming beats in her chest. Increased heartbeat.

“What's your name?„ – hear her voice, which still broke out of the pale lips.

   The coolness comes from him, so pleasant, and some kind of confused mixture of smells: it seems to be engine oil and something else - an echo of the past.

   Unlike all aspects of the Essence world, everyone remembered their names.

And yes, he answered, right in my ear, without thinking for a long time. On exhalation, in a slightly hoarse voice, broken, so familiar.

«Ojomo... Yes. Exactly. There, in the old neighborhood of East St. Louis, near the Racker Dump.»

   Memories climbed into consciousness so violently, as if a film was being played, showing a film on a white canvas. Not so blurry anymore.

It's an unusually hot day for a gloomy city. A light breeze. There is a bit of noise in the central area, a few people come across on the way along a narrow road made of old gray brick, already cracked from time. A bright sign of Domino's Pizza – one of the most pleasant and good cafes in the area. There were quite a few cheerful and joyful people inside, like some kind of holiday. But the girl was somehow not up to them, only one person was important to her, who had attracted all her attention for several days. Which occupied all her thoughts.

– Phil, Chicken Ranch or Meat?

– Choose which one you want. – He said with a slight smile, without taking his eyes off Y/N.

From the wheezing speaker, which was the only drawback in this institution, came the pleasant and melodious voice of Freddie Mercury.

The Queen song was the last thing that made the day just perfect.

The sun was always shinin' — we just lived for fun

Sometimes it seems like lately — I just don't know

The rest of my life's been just a show

Those were the days of our lives

The bad things in life were so few

Those days are all gone now but one thing is true

When I look and I find I still love you

Only she had gone too far, seen too much. Everything is completely against the rules of the Entity. She was overtaken by a terrible headache, abruptly and suddenly.

   It was as if the film was scratched, cut, everything was damaged by interference, what was happening was distorted. The entity also wanted to spoil the world of the past. Create a crazy psychedelic out of it. Destroy it completely.

   The voice became hoarse, gradually changed. Perverted, became ugly

You can't turn back the clock

You can't turn back the tide

Ain't that a shame

I'd like to go back one time on a roller coaster ride

   Completely unfamiliar, less and less like a human, the voice of the beloved soloist of the song native to the heart becomes disgusting. And this brought even more pain than the headache. Together, he poured poison into the soul experiencing madness. He claimed that it would not be possible to get out again.

When life was just a ga-

– Hey? Hey?!

    When she heard a worried Philip trying to reach her, she realized that she had been screaming terribly for the last few seconds, forcing and begging to stop. She was still scared and feverish, and her heart was beating as if during terror. She screamed violently, as her throat was dry. Y/N seemed to have woken up from a nightmare, the consequences of the experience did not leave her head, she was under the impression, it was difficult to move away from the shock. And although she was in the world of Essence, feeling Philip next to her, she was able to breathe calmly, relax her shoulders...

   She was tortured so well, she realized that she was terribly battered when men's hands touched her cheek to wash wet tracks. She hadn't cried in a long time. She kept everything to herself.

   She lit up with the hope of finding peace, shedding light on her existence like an ouroboros, and suffered an attempt at insanity. I almost went crazy. Is it possible here? Or will the Spider only touch her dolls, comparable to tearing off their limbs and screwing them back?

«What can I do for you, how can I ease your pain?» – The Wraith was restless, wanting to ease the pain, but not knowing how to do it. He was powerless.

Lately, he only brought pain without thinking about it, deliberately fenced himself off, hiding his soul from everything.

    The only thing he could do and wanted to do was bend down, get closer and, erasing the painful traces of tears, express his love. So he did. Hesitantly, scorching the skin with cold breath, he touched other girls' lips with the same icy lips. Does it please her? He almost forgot what tenderness and affection are, how careless and against him?

It seems that the girl's feelings are the strongest, as she ardently responded to his kiss, deepening it, inflaming and giving Philip courage. In these moments, it's as if he becomes another, not a mutilated Killer.

   Until a piercing scream rang out in the neighborhood, reminding of a victim defeated by huge spider paws. There's even less time...

“You have to go.”

“No, no, there is time.” – She pleads hoarsely, clutching at him, snuggling and only then finding peace.

    He doesn't want to leave her either.

   Power is supplied, the hatch is near the building. The thought beats in the brain that after the expiration of time, Y/N will damage the essence, herself – will pierce her fragile body with clawed paws. Piercing the very heart.

  Philip grabs her by the hips and lifts her off the generator like a doll. She holds onto his shoulders securely. I wanted to ask on impulse: where and why, but I didn't. Not to the hook...

not to the hook, right?

  But there was no panic. I didn't want anything. Just stay close.

   After walking a few meters and bypassing the hut, the killer put the girl on her feet. Looking down, Y/N noticed the black abyss of the hatch.

   A couple more seconds... Just a couple of seconds... For which she is attracted to Ojomo again, looks into his face without fear and horror, but with a completely different, old and almost forgotten, but familiar to him, in her eyes.

“See you later, Philip.”

   A pleasant warmth is coliting somewhere under the breast, but it is not painful at all. This is the warmth of his former life, bright feelings, which will now warm him in the cold, as before, nights of Essence. Nights near other Hunters. But he won't show it. He can... He does it best.

“Aun te amo mucho.”

[Lat. I love you and look forward to meeting you]

   Again something broke out from the depths of the resurrected soul. A slight movement of the hand – "goodbye", but finally, a second before the "escape" of the victim, grabs her hand and interlaces her fingers.

  That's it now.

[your-goth-sis]

SEND REQUESTS!!

Fandoms and characters I'd write for!

Dead by daylight

Resident evil

Survivors

Dwight Fairfield

Meg Thomas

Claudette Morel

Jake Park

William Bill Oberbeck

Quentin Smith

Kate Denson

Steve Harrington

Yui Kimura

Cheryl Manson

Felix Richter

Jill Valentine

Claire Redfield

Sheva Alomar

Leon S Kennedy

Carlos Oliveira

Chris Redfield

Yoichi Asakawa

Vittorio Toscano

KILLERS

The Trapper (Evan Macmillan)

The Wraith (Philip Ojomo)

The Legion (Frank, Julie, Joey, Susie)

The GhostFace (Danny Johnson)

The Doctor (Herman Carter)

The Executioner (Pyramidhead)

The Trickster (Ji-Woon Hak)

The Artist (Carmina Mora)

The Mastermind (Albert Wesker)

I will not write anything like smut! Feel free to request anything other than this!

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; torn by their obsession, the pack crumbles—now feral shadows of themselves. ghost, spiraling into hunger and rage, unleashes his fury.

⚠️ warnings; obsessive behaviour, unhealthy coping mechanisms, violence (sybil gets hurt!), blood and gore

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

The Rose District was a place of shadows—where the dimly lit streets bled into the underworld, where the stench of decay lingered in the air, and whispers of trouble hid behind every corner. Ghost had never liked coming here, but tonight, he had a purpose.

You had been raving about some rare herb for the past few days, an ingredient you couldn’t find anywhere else. Ghost, seemingly indifferent to your ramblings, had made a mental note to find it for you.

He moved with silent efficiency, his half-wraith nature allowing him to blend easily into the darkness. His eyes scanned the corners for any signs of the itinerant vendor he knew to hang around the area. The herb was supposed to be rare—dangerously so—but he couldn’t bring himself to care beyond getting it and making you happy.

That was, until he heard a soft voice, muffled and frightened, cutting through the usual hum of the Rose District. It wasn’t the sound itself that drew him—plenty of people got into trouble here—but there was something in the air, a pull.

He stepped out of the shadows, his eyes narrowing as he saw the scene unfold a few feet away. A young woman—her honey-brown hair gleaming faintly in the dim light—stood cornered by a group of rough-looking men. They smirked, closing in, their intentions clear and unkind.

Ghost could have turned away. He didn’t know her, and getting involved in these kinds of situations wasn’t exactly his style. But something in him shifted, a tug in his chest that he couldn’t quite shake. He sighed, his usual apathy mixing with a sense of obligation he couldn’t place, and stepped forward.

“Leave her,” he said, his voice low, barely a whisper, but it carried an unmistakable weight. The men froze, eyes flicking up toward him. They were the type to recognize danger when it appeared, and Ghost—his towering frame half-hidden by his hood—was clearly not a figure to be trifled with.

One of the men sneered but backed off, motioning for the others to follow suit. “Not worth it,” he muttered under his breath, casting one last leer at the girl before disappearing into the shadows.

Ghost watched them retreat, then turned to the girl. She was trembling slightly, her brown eyes wide with fear and gratitude. This was routine for him, helping folk when he had to, stepping in only when necessary. He was about to turn and leave, to forget this ever happened, when she spoke.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft, vulnerable.

Something about it made him pause, just for a moment.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice rough, more out of habit than genuine concern.

She shook her head, a slight smile forming on her lips, but before she could respond, her hand brushed his arm.

It was nothing—just a fleeting touch, accidental. But in that instant, something shifted. Ghost pulled back slightly, confused by the sudden wave of emotion crashing over him. It was subtle, at first, just a faint whisper in the back of his mind, but the longer he looked at her, the louder it became.

He tried to shake it off, tried to remember why he had come to the Rose District in the first place—there was something he needed to find, something important.

A strange sensation crawled up his spine, sinking deep into his mind. He felt… tethered, as if something in him latched onto her presence, a root slowly winding its way into his thoughts, making her impossible to ignore. His apathy slipped away, replaced by a growing need to stay close, to keep her safe, to protect.

He found himself stepping closer instead of retreating, his usual detached composure slipping as he studied her. She didn’t seem aware of the effect she was having, of the slow, insidious way she was beginning to unravel everything inside him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice a little softer than before. The words felt automatic, like he was trying to regain control, but his mind was already clouded.

“I got lost,” she said, her eyes darting nervously toward the dark streets surrounding them. “I didn’t mean to—thank you, again. I’m Leah by the way.”

Ghost’s thoughts were hazy now, unfocused, as he repeated her name over and over again in his mind.

“We should go,” he muttered, gesturing for her to follow him. He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t understand why he felt this way, but he couldn’t leave her alone now. Not when the pull was so strong.

By the time they reached the edge of the district, the thought of the herb he was supposed to find for you had completely faded from his mind. All that mattered was Leah—and keeping her near.

. . .

Plates sat piled in the sink, crusted and acrid with the remnants of old meals. Dust had settled over every surface, thick and undisturbed. The smell of neglect filled every corner, the windows streaked with grime, letting in only the barest slivers of weak, muted light.

The pack's home lay in shambles, reflecting the twisted obsession that had taken root in their minds. Every room told the same story—untouched and uncared and ignored like everything else that wasn’t Leah.

John’s instincts as a hunter—the sharpness, the clarity of purpose—had dulled, eroded by worry and exhaustion. He barely left the house, even though he should’ve been out there, doing what he did best, leading them. His guns, his gear, lay untouched, gathering dust in the corner. The man who had always been their steady hand, their anchor in the storm, was unravelling, his focus split between trying to hold the pack together and his concern for the woman who had somehow become the centre of all their lives.

Gaz rarely touched his books now, his once-meticulous study routine had been discarded, left to gather dust along with the shelves sagging under the weight of broken trinkets and forgotten potions. The thought of casting a spell, of focusing on anything outside of Leah, seemed almost impossible now.

Soap, once the energetic heart of their pack, had become consumed by his inner beast. His werewolf side, once held in check by a fierce loyalty and steady self-control, had slipped its leash. The wildness in him had grown more pronounced, his pacing erratic, his growls more frequent. He snapped at the others, a low, rumbling threat in his throat whenever they got too close. His restlessness filled the air, his anxious energy like static that crackled between them all.

And then there was Ghost. Of them all, he was the worst.

He had stopped taking the tonics you prepared especially for him—those essential mixtures that kept his half-wraith nature in check. Without them, the feral part of him had completely taken over, spiralling out of control. His skin had taken on a pale, deathly hue, his eyes burning red with the hunger that gnawed at him from within.

Things eventually did break apart.

The air in the house was thick with tension as the four of them gathered around in the dim light of the living room, a fire crackling in the hearth but offering no warmth.

Leah, despite having her own space above Laswell’s bar, had made herself at home in their place. It seemed so natural at first, like she belonged there among them. For a while, she stood out in the chaos, pristine and pretty amid the disarray.

But then, a sudden illness settled over her.

She had stopped eating days ago, and with every shallow breath she took, each spiralled deeper into their own madness.

The tension was unbearable, each day blending into the next, an endless cycle of sleepless nights and anxious pacing. They had stopped caring for themselves and each other. Fights broke out over nothing, their frustrations boiling over with every glance, every word.

The house that had once been a home was no longer a sanctuary. It was a reflection of the decay in their hearts, a hollow shell of what it had once been, crumbling under the strain of their obsession love.

“She needs more than we can give her,” Gaz said quietly, his voice laced with frustration. He rubbed his temples, as if trying to ward off the pounding headache that had settled on his temple for days. “I’ve tried every spell I know. None of it’s working.”

“Spells?” Johnny scoffed, his pacing agitated. “Spells aren’t what’s gonna fix her. We need to get her out of here, take her to someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“And who, exactly, is that, Soap?” Price shot back, his voice rising. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his face shadowed with exhaustion. “You think there’s someone out there who can handle this? Someone we can trust with Leah?”

Soap growled low in his throat, his enlarged nails flexing at his sides. “Better than sitting here, watching her waste away while you all argue over nothing.”

“We don’t know even what’s wrong with her!” Gaz snapped, losing his temper.

“And sitting here debating it is helping how?” Soap shot back, his eyes flashing in the low light. “We’ve been going around in circles for days. She’s getting worse, and all we do is talk, talk, talk!”

Price stepped forward, his face dark with anger. “We can’t just run off blindly. You think you’ll make it two blocks without something worse happening? The moment we leave this house—”

“This house is a tomb!” Soap snarled, his voice cracking. “She’s dying in there, and you want to sit here, playing it safe? You’re the one losing it, Price. You’ve lost your edge. You’re not thinking straight.”

Price moved so quickly that Johnny barely had time to react. They were face to face in an instant, both of them bristling with raw anger, their tempers flaring. “You want to say that again?” Price growled, the hunter in him itching to lash out.

Gaz stood up abruptly, pushing them apart with a frustrated grunt. “Enough! This isn’t helping anyone, least of all Leah.” He turned to Ghost, who had been eerily silent throughout the argument. “Ghost, you’ve barely said a word. What do you think?”

Ghost, standing in the corner, his form barely visible in the shadows, seemed almost detached from the scene. His eyes, bloodshot and wild, flicked to Gaz, but there was no recognition there, only a raw, feral hunger. He hadn’t taken his tonic in days, and it showed—the half-wraith within him was clawing its way to the surface, gnawing at the last vestiges of control he had left.

“We’re wasting time,” Ghost finally muttered, his voice guttural, barely human. His muscles twitched with unspent energy, his body wound tight as if ready to explode. “She’s dying. And we’re doing nothing.”

“We know that,” Gaz said softly, trying to reach him. “But we can’t just—”

Ghost’s eyes flickered, a dark intensity flashing across his face. “Then stop talking. Do something. Or get out of my way.”

Before anyone could react, Ghost was gone. He moved with inhuman speed, disappearing through the door in a blur of shadow and cold air. They barely had time to process it before the chill of his absence settled into the room.

Price cursed under his breath, turning back to the others. “Damn it, he’s gone feral.”

Soap’s pacing resumed, even more agitated now. “We can’t keep him locked up forever. He was bound to snap.”

“And now what?” Gaz asked, his voice hoarse with worry.

But despite the renewed sense of urgency, the argument had changed nothing. Leah still lay feverish in the other room, her condition worsening by the hour. And with Ghost gone, it felt as if the last thread holding them together had finally snapped.

And outside, in the night, Ghost stalked the streets, driven by an insatiable thirst, slipping deeper into the feral haze that consumed him. The city, bathed in the cool autumn moonlight, was ripe for hunting.

. . .

That cool evening you strolled through the dim streets with Sybil at your side. It was a rare moment of quiet, a stolen breath of normalcy after weeks of carefully orchestrating your life away from the pack.

No contact, no messages, no nothing. You were trying to move on, and of course failing miserably.

You tugged your cloak tighter around your shoulders when something suddenly felt… wrong. An icy chill washed over you, setting your nerves on edge, like a storm creeping in from the horizon.

Then you saw him.

Ghost.

His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were bloodshot, wide with hunger, glowing faintly in the dark like a feral animal.

Then you noticed the blood. Fresh streaks ran down his arms and neck, his clothes stained and torn, his skin smeared with it. Clearly not his own. He had already hurt someone. Maybe worse.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

“Simon?” you called his name softly.

He didn’t answer. He just stared. Unblinking. And then, with terrifying speed, he lunged.

Panic surged through you, and without thinking, you ran—your only thought was to get back to the shop. Trusting wholly that Sybil was by your side, you sprinted through the streets, your breath coming in frantic bursts, the pounding of his feet behind you growing louder, faster.

You barely made it through the door, slamming it shut and locking it just in time. But there was no time to catch your breath. Ghost was right behind you, slamming into the door with such force that it cracked. Your heart was racing in your chest as the door gave way under the weight of his attack, splintering open.

He barged in, and the destruction began.

He tore through the shop like a whirlwind, knocking over everything in his path in his blind attempt to catch you. Shelves collapsed under his weight, glass bottles shattered, herbs spilled across the floor, the once-familiar scents mixing with the pungent stench of blood and sweat.

“Stop!” you screamed, but it was useless. He couldn’t hear you. Couldn’t stop.

He pounced at you again, and Sybil, ever fearless and faithful, intercepted him. She sank her teeth into his leg, snarling fiercely, and for a moment, it slowed him down. He roared in pain, staggering, his bloodshot eyes narrowing in fury. But with one hard swipe of his hand, he sent her flying across the room. She hit the wall with a pained whine, her body crumpling to the floor.

“Sybil!” you wailed, heart splintering at the sight of her.

He stumbled on his injured leg, collapsing like a rag doll. But he wasn’t done.

Before you could react, his hand shot out and latched onto your ankle, dragging you down with terrifying strength. You hit the floor hard, pain shooting up your leg as he pulled you toward him, his grip crushing, his nails digging into your skin, drawing blood.

You cried in pain, instinctively twisting your body and kicking him—hard and square in the jaw. The impact was brutal, and his head snapped back with a sickening crack. For a moment, his grip slackened, and you scrambled to your feet, gasping for breath.

But it still wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

You limped towards the cauldron over the hearth, the brew still bubbling inside, before latching fiercely into it and toppling it towards him. The boiling liquid splashed all across the floor and against Ghost. His howl of pain ripped through the air as steam rose as his skin sizzled and burned, blistering down to the bone where the unfinished position had hit him.

You were barely holding on as you manoeuvre yourself around him and the torrid concoction, your body trembling as you picked up Sybil and darted towards the stair, desperate to get away. Every step was agony, your ankle throbbing from where he’d grabbed you.

You managed to slam the door to your apartment shut, locking it with shaking hands, but it felt so fragile. Too fragile. The sounds of Ghost’s growls echoed below, followed by the scraping of claws on wood.

He was coming.

You fumbled for your phone, hands shaking uncontrollably as you dialled Laswell’s number. The line rang and rang, but there was no answer. Your heart sank, panic rising again. You tried over and over, but no response came.

The door shuddered as he reached it, his nails scratching and clawing at the wood, a relentless assault that made your heart pound painfully in your chest. You clutched Sybil tightly in your arms, her body trembling against yours. She was hurt, but alive. You pressed your face into her fur, tears streaming down your cheeks as the scratching continued, a reminder that he wasn’t going to stop. Not until he had you.

The weight of it all—Ghost’s betrayal, the destruction of your shop, Sybil—threatened to suffocate you.

All you could do was wait. Wait for the sun to rise, for the light to finally push back the nightmare.

But deep down, you feared that by then, it might be too late.

banner credit

[notspiders]

Oh, Honey! (Bumblebee! Reader x Monster! 141)

General Warnings: Mostly fluff. Reader is female and is described as rather small and chubby. Reader is clumsy. Reader has a very large family. Characters may act out of character. Poor grammar is likely. Cussing. Part 1??? Note: Monster! 141 belongs to @bluegiragi

~~~~

Price watches you through the window.

Truthfully, he isn't sure how he and his team ended up here. One day they were being chased by a bloody team of zombies/cannon fodder, the next- he's laying on this extremely cozy bed (although it is a bit small) with his wounds nicely patched. Soap has gone hunting with the other women. Ghost is satisfied that they're all safe in this... rather massive cottage and has been snoring away in the next room for the past hour. Gaz has told him that he's going to just fly around and keep an eye out- just in case if the enemies somehow find themselves through the dense woods and into this clearing.

They really were lucky, Price thinks. According to you, the woods were a force themselves. Navigating through it, especially at night, is practically impossible. Compasses don't work. There's no signal and, of course, any type of aircraft just fail here. The woods are miles long and unless you packed enough supplies- it's suicide to dive back in and try to find your way out. It's just that sometimes the woods can help you, and sometimes the woods just gives you Mother Nature's middle finger and kills you. So there's that.

Naturally, the team was suspicious.

1) The explanation made no sense. 2) They were just outnumbered by a ton of enemies and to stumble upon this welcoming lot is... well, it's too good to be true, yeah? 3) You and your family are just way too happy. 3.1) There are no guys in your family. Your mother stated that men generally just wandered in, the family would treat them, and then they go away by themselves after a few nights. 3.2) Honestly, all of you look the same. Maybe there's like, a difference in hairstyles, body types, and obvious age gaps between the women here and there, but Jesus… Gaz has already made the mistake of confusing you, your cousins, your many sisters, and other random girls multiple times last night. 3.3) Scratch out the 'massive cottage' you guys claimed it to be. It's a mansion. Your 'family' is very large. There are many aunts, other women, cousins, other girls that were adopt into the family- Just no men. All living under the same roof and might as well be an army itself with how efficient you all did your tasks.

That said, it's very rude to point guns at innocent, clueless civilians. You, an adorably chubby, little bumblebee-hybrid (identifiable by the two rather pathetic buzzing wings behind your back), opened the door to them last night and stared blankly at their guns before cheerily ushering them in without freaking your head out. Next thing they knew, they got some quality homecooked meals cooked and served before them, plenty of drink (the honey mead everyone shared is excellent), proper treatment with their wounds (with... herbs), and warm beds. Ghost had stayed up the whole night and snooped around (just in case) but reported nothing interesting except for a few old hunting rifles and some overdue library books. Yes, each girl did carry a tiny foraging knife, but he's pretty certain they could still punt them like footballs ten at a time.

Morning comes- the team properly introduce themselves without being too specific of their occupation. There was a great deal of oohing and aahing as Price unfolded his one wing. His smoke did cause one girl to faint and her mother quickly asked for Price to... stop. He did his best and has, for now, stopped smoking his cigar. Everyone just steered clear from Ghost. Many children were petting Soap's head and playing with his fluffy tail, and others were stroking Gaz's wings.

Despite all the attention, Price's gaze is always on you. Maybe it was because of the fact that he's seen you first. You were just the cutest out of all of them. He wanted to whisk you away just to squish every soft part of your body and have you cuddled up beside him in his nest back home.

He's sorely disappointed to be told that he needs to return to bed so that his wounds can heal faster. No matter. The window gives him a very nice view of the clearing outside. Some girls are tending to the farm. Others are beekeeping. Plenty have gone to the outskirts of the forest to forage or hunt. Soap has offered to go out with the girls and they gladly accepted his help. (Tomorrow, he'll get off of this bed and join everyone too.)

Right now, you're picking the berries in your garden. It's amusing to watch you. Sometimes you bend over to pluck a few pretty flowers too- he's gotten a very nice view of your plump arse here and there. He's watched you buzz your small wings to just barely get a foot in the air and pluck an apple off the tree. Oh, how he wished to simply go out to lift you up himself... Your weight would be nothing to him.

From his observations, he's smartly deduced: Your body is round. Your little wings aren't designed for distance.

He loves the way you'd burrow your nose into any flower. Sometimes you remind him of Johnny's eagerness by the way you'd get a bit too enthusiastic and faceplant into the bed of flowers to take in the scent.

Price watches you get up, bump into your cousin (or is it sister? Or is this another girl? He couldn't be arsed), and the two of you collectively squeaked and apologized at the same time. Adorable. Fascinating. Beautiful. He hasn't felt this way ever since the time he xaight the glimpse of the shiny Excalibur in that stupid rock.

The lunch horn has been blown. He's been told that today's meal would be freshly baked bread and creamy chicken with wild rice soup. There’ll be tea and coffee for the drinks.

Price wishes his lunch would just be you.

[teddypines]

Daddy's Home

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Summary: The 141, mostly Price, getting a warm welcome home from a long mission away. His dragon babies being adorable and Soap being a little possessive. Also Y/N being a good mom, because you are doing great.

Note: Just fluff in the monster au.

Art/picture is from Pinterest, credits go to whoever made it.

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Y/N helped Amy out of the car before grabbing Jim from his carseat. She wasn’t scared that Amy would run off right now, since the toddler was holding onto her belt loops and couldn’t fly very far on her own. She was way too tired to do anything else but to hold onto Momma. Y/N smiled while strapping the hatchling to her chest in his papoose. Amy used to fit inside the papoose when she was still small, but now it was Jim’s. Once Jim was all settled and continuing his nap, Y/N closed the car door. “Want to be on Momma’s back, Sweetpea?” She asked Amy, receiving a small nod from the toddler. She helped Amy onto her back, making sure she was safe between her wings. 

With the children close to her Y/N grabbed the baby bag from the trunk and locked the car. They were going to pick up Daddy from a long mission. It had been a rough couple of months, especially with Price missing Jim’s hatching, but she filmed it for him and sent it to him so he wouldn’t miss it entirely. Amy was missing Daddy bedtime and just having him and her uncles around. With a small determent smile Y/N took the kids to the airfield on base. Hoping Nikolia took the 141 back home safely.

Y/N had to wait a little while in one of the hangars, of course being checked and double checked that it was actually okay for her and the children to be there. Getting a few odd looks as she sat there, Amy still holding onto her back. “Momma? Why are we up?” She asked in a sleepy voice. it actually made a few of the nearby soldiers melt at how cute the little dragon was. “We are picking up Daddy, Sweetpea. Bringing him home with us, and of course your uncles too. Their flight is just really early that’s why we are up early too.” Y/N explained to Amy, hoping her tired mind would understand what was going on for now. Amy nodded her head against Y/N’s back. “Otay.” 

<------------------------------------------------------------->

It’s been a long 3 months. Price hated it, even more because he missed the hatching of his son. He was glad Y/N filmed it for him, but he still felt upset about it. He missed his princess and his wife. Only he didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on what he was missing since the mission came first. He had to make sure his team was doing their jobs and that they got home safe after it all ended. They got pretty lucky with this mission, only Soap was hurt and that was mostly his own fault for not looking where he was going. There were minor injuries, but Ghost still fussed over Soap on the plane, giving him a small lecture about keeping his eyes open and to focus instead of yepping over com’s. 

Price just let it all happen around him as he talked to Gaz, telling the sergeant how much he longed for a hot shower and cuddles on the couch. Wanting to hear Amy’s voice, wanting to hold his son and to kiss Y/N. It was clear by the way Price moved his tail around the floor of the plane. Gaz understood the longing his captain felt, wanting to go back to his own loved ones. He was just as curious about seeing Price’s son as the man himself, wondering if the hatchling got his colors for his dad or his mom, or maybe a mix of both. Soap just wanted to see the hatchling and Y/N again, and have some time with Ghost. And Ghost just wanted to sleep.

“Landing in about 10 minutes, everyone.” Nikolia’s co-pilot announced to the 141, The four of them smiling at the news. They would be home soon with a welcome home party waiting for them on base. A small party, but a party nonetheless.

<------------------------------------------------------------->

“Miss? The plane is landing in about five minutes, would you like me to take you to the landing?” One of the soldiers around her asked with a kind smile on his face. Y/N nodded and stood up with a groan, Amy was fast asleep on her back, putting her full weight onto her Momma’s back. “Yes, I would like that, thank you.” Y/N answered. Quickly following after the soldier. She knew she had to wake Amy up soon or she would be upset that she didn’t get to greet her daddy. Jim wouldn’t mind either way, he was happy with whatever. 

Amy luckily woke up by herself from the loud noise of the plane. She was wide awake when she realized her Daddy was on that plane. “Momma, down! I want down!!” She demanded while struggling between Y/N’s wings. “Hold on a moment, Sweetpea, Momma is still walking.” Y/N answered only to be ignored by the toddler. Y/N sighed and quickly let Amy down. Needing to stop and kneel slightly, just to let the little one off safely. Amy flapped her wings in excitement as she ran a head to the landing plane. “Not too fast, Amy! We don’t want you to fall.” Y/N yelled after her. 

The soldier led the last bit of the way to the landing, the plane already landed. Now they just had to wait for the loading door to open. Amy, already jumping up in the air to fly towards daddy. “Daddy!” She yelled, just wanting her daddy back with her. 

It took a little while for the loading door to open, but there they were, the 141 safe and sound. Amy flew into Price’s arms, surprising him just a little. John quickly wrapped his arms around his little girl and kissed her head between her growing horns. “Hello, Pumpkin.” John greeted Amy. “I missed you so much.” He mumbled against her head “Missed you too, Daddy.” Amy answered. The others just chuckled and walked past the two dragons. Soap quickly going over to Y/N, the werewolf was more excited about seeing the hatchling and Y/N. 

“Sooooo, where is he?!” Soap asked, his tail wagging like crazy. “Well hello to you too, Johnny, yes i am doing great, thank you for asking.” Y/N responded as she carefully took Jim out of his papoose. “Jimmy, meet your uncle Johnny. He’s a werewolf and you’re gonna love cuddling with him.” She introduced the two. Johnny looking at the dragon hatchling in aw. “He looks so small.” Johnny carefully took Jim from Y/N. “Yeah, he’s just a little smaller than when Amy hatched.” Y/N answered, making sure Johnny was holding Jim the right way. Even when he had a lot of experience with holding Amy, Jim was just a bit more fussy about how people should hold him.

Simon slowly made his way to Johnny and Y/N, standing next to Y/N as he looked at Jim. “He does have a lot more hair than Amy did after hatching.” He commented after taking off his mask, not wanting to scare the hatchling. Knowing from experience that hatchlings didn’t like his Ghost mask. “Yeah, he has his Momma’s hair.” Y/N explained. 

John finally let Amy go once Kyle was like, ‘Okay enough, my time for hugs’. He looked over at the group a little further from the plane, he saw Y/N and just ran to her. Catching her off guard when he picked her up and kissed her. Holding her close as he spun her around. “Hello, Love.” He whispered to her. “Welcome home.” Y/N whispered back. She had wrapped her arms and wings around John, giving them a small moment alone. Putting his forehead and horns against hers. “I missed you.” Y/N whispered, a few tears rolling down her cheeks as she looked at her husband. “I missed you more, Love.” John answered between kissing her cheeks. Kissing her tears away. His one wing goes around Y/N’s wings.

“Do you want to see your son?” Y/N asked after a moment of silence. John nodded in answer before reluctantly letting Y/N go. She grabbed his hand and led him back to Johnny and Simon. “Johnny boy, can I have my son back?” She asked only to receive an almost death glare back from the werewolf. “Johnny, give the lass her son!” Simon ordered the werewolf, knowing he was already attached to the hatchling, just like when he first met Amy. Johnny whined before handing Jim back to Y/N. She moved Jim in John’s direction. “Meet your son, James Henry Price.” John looked at the hatchling in aw before grabbing him. Holding him close and just taking everything in. “He is beautiful, Love.” 

Amy ran towards her Momma and Daddy once she was out of Kyle’s arms. “Daddy’s home!!!” She cheered, continuing to run around the 141. Kyle joined the group shortly after. “She has a lot of energy doesn’t she?” John nodded his head, but kept his focus on his son. Jim let out a big yawn and spread his little wings a bit, they were still flimsy, but are slowly getting stronger. They were a pretty light blue. Getting the color from John's mother. “Owh What a handsome boy.” Kyle cooed over the hatchling. John smiled At his son and quickly kissed Y/N. “Thank you, love, thank you for this. For coming to get us.”

“Always John.” Y/N answered, happy that the boy’s were home safe.

[cluelessatthispoint]

Dragon's Hoard pt.3

(Inspired by bluegiragi and docdudo)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soft snores and gentle gasps echoed lazily within the darkened lair of the dragon and his mates.. the small family all safe and cozy with one another far away from the noisy blight that is humanity and their ways of living. Usually it would be easy to fall asleep, but try as he might, Gaz laid awake. Hard instincs screaming at him to succumb to sleep. The environment around already working so hard to lull him to what his instincts crave.

Gaz laid awake in the nest, his eyes straining as he peered up at the dark, stalactite filled cieling. The sight leaving a tingling imprint in his retinas. As much as he would have liked to get some sleep after a long day. There was only so much he could handle in a day spent flying and helping Soap pick off straggling sheep for their next meal. Never in a million years did he expect Price to come home with a child in tow. Just what the hell was he thinking? A literal human child, in the home of a hybrid pack. So many things could go wrong. With a sigh, Gaz groggily brought a hand up to massage and pinch the bridge of his nose. He was one for surprises. Sure there was the time when he and Price spent a surprise, anniversary night out gazing at the stars after a successful hunt. The clear night sky overhead glittering with innumerable stars overhead. The way the light from the moon casted a silvery glow over as far as the duo could see was a magical sight. It was quite possibly one of the best surprises Gaz could think of to this date. Well, not anymore.

The sleeping child in the group nest proved that opinion all too well. With a sigh, Gaz unfurled one large wing up and out in one glorious motion to flex and stretch. The joints in his wing getting all nice and lubricated to chase away the stiffness in his muscles and tendons. Slowly, so as to not wake anyone else from their much needed sleep. Looking over and down at the small tufts of hair that curl about your small head. Gaz gently lowers the tip of his wing to wrap around your form. All tired out and limp in their nest. Tiny lungs working hard to keep an even pace as your small chest rises and falls with each gentle inhale and exhale. Each small twitch in your sleep is monitored, each small groan and stretch as you wander in dreamland is counted. For Gaz, It's like a dream come true. A strange, unexpected dream. Its been so long since he's raised a chick. Furling his massive wing around your midsection, Gaz scoots his body closer to envelop you in his warmth. Chicks need plenty of warmth to sleep well. And good sleep leads to healthy growth. A patient smile makes its way to his heart-shaped lips. A soft croon just beggin to make its way out. Would the chick even like his song? The culture of his kind? Would the chick learn to appreciate the differences of their new parents?

As if roused by the acrid smelling spike of anxiety wafting off of his husband, Simon; from over the shoulder of Price moved quietly to lean up on his forearms. Sleep still dancing across his eyelids as he narrows his vision on Gaz. His tired brown eyes laced with concern.

"Hey"

"Hey yourself."

The sound of Simon's sleep tinged voice is a welcome relief to Gaz’s ears.

"Can't sleep?"

A pregnant pause follows the question. As if Gaz really needs to answer the question, the wraith knows what's bothering him.

"The kid is fine. Just tired. Scared. It's to be expected. Doubt Soap here helped any."

With a heavy sigh Gaz cuddles closer to your unconscious form. To Simon, the sight of such a large harpy and such a small child just seems wrong. Different species all gathered in one place. That's how most wars break out, but yet this family makes it work. Better than most same species families.

"Soap won't eat the kid...back in the day he might've...but not now..ease up Gaz."

Dark brown, chocolate eyes sweep over Gaz gently before straining to look over at the tiny bundle all snuggled up against his chest. The harpy's instinct to gather and protect their young is strong, almost ferocious at times. But Gaz looks so gentle. Laying back down to carefully spoon against Price. Simon is ever mindful to be aware of not disturbing the portion of the dragon's hybrid back where his missing wing should be.

"We're where we belong. That includes the kid."

The tenderness in Simon's voice almost surprises Gaz. That tone is usually reserved for more intimate moments.

"What do you mean Si?"

"Look at em. So small, tiny...almost insignificant. Just like we all were at one time or another."

"So?"

"Price...he can see the value in even the smallest things. The broken things....like us."

The unspoken words between them echo in their minds. "Like me". Broken. But still so very much loved and adored.

"Get some sleep Gaz. You can look the kid over and clean em in the morning."

The subtle command in Simon's tones doesn't go ignored. Even the sleeping werewolf somehow registers the tone, responding with a heavy yawn and a rumbling purr. With the quiet in the den, the sounds of deep, rhythmic breathing gets swallowed up by the thick rocky walls and cushions and fabrics that make up the spacious nest. With tired eyes, Gaz curls in and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. The soft hair that frames your cherubic face makes you look years younger than you are. The softness of your skin and its youthful buoyancy are still there even after all this time on your own. It makes his heart clench up tightly to think of all those years you've spent begging and scrounging for scraps like a common mutt in the city's streets.

"John always finds the value in the little things in life. I guess he saw something truly special in you chickie."

Gaz says softly as he presses his lips to your forehead. We're humans always this cold? Did John bring home a sick child? How do you care for a sick child that's not the same species as you? What if something is wrong? Shaking those terrible thoughts away, his mind wanders to what Simon said. And how everyone gathered here in each other's space, share so many wonderful things with each other. How coexistence just comes natural to them. How it'll hopefully come naturally to their newest addition. Shaking his head, the way Soap spoke of the child at first made him cringe. Eating them up and the like. The werewolf has no tact when it comes to children. Sighing gently, his deep brown eyes gaze at you with a tenderness only reserved for the young his instincts so desperately crave. Watching over you as you squirm in your sleep. No doubt moving in response to his soft exhales ghosting over your skin.

"No one's eating our chick...not my chick."

He whispers softly in oath to himself. His words not as unheard as he believed. On the other side of the nest, a soft, barely perceivable smile tugs at the corners of Price's lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ta da! Part three is here. I'm planning to have the next few chapters focus on the 141 individually and how they respond to having a child in their lives now.

~~~~

[fandomnerd9602]

Can you do a Yuri watanabe x male Spider-Man reader plz🙏 I’m dying to see some wraith content🥺

Y/N lands in front of Yuri…

Y/N: where were you?

Yuri: why? Were you going to arrest me?

Y/N: no. I missed you. I missed seeing you

Yuri removes her mask…

Yuri: I missed you too

Yuri collapses in Y/N’s arms…

[slashersgostabbystabstab]

Carnal Craving [NSFW]

It’s been a while since you’ve had a moment alone with your beloved Philip...

Time in the Entity’s Realm had become quite exhausting. It was almost like something had overcome the being, prompting it to call all survivors and killers more than often. There were almost no breaks between matches. Really, you didn’t think that you’d once again have the initial feeling of apprehension as you did when being brought into the realm. 

You inhaled deeply, holding your breath for a moment before eventually releasing all the air. Bringing your hand up to rub your eyes that had grown darker circles around them. You hadn’t been given the chance to have time to yourself, even time for Philip.

You examined your surroundings, seeing only seven other survivors. Usually, it was only four survivors that were missing at a time. Perhaps the Entity was asking for more sacrifices than usual. Weird.

Immediately, you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard heavy footsteps from behind. Turning around, you blinked at the darkness created by the lack of light and darkened trees whose leaves gently swayed with the chilly breeze. To your surprise, there was nobody in sight. It was clearly none of your fellow survivors, for they were all actually around the campfire.

“Are you alright?”

Next to you was the blond with saddened eyes, most believing it to be a smoulder. You knew better than to assume this man had the same amount of confidence as that Harrington guy.

“Yeah. Just thought I heard something.” you smiled at him in reassurance. “Must have been the wind.”

“Yes, must have.” Felix nodded before he went back to twiddling his fingers. “How have your trials gone?”

“Um…I would say I can’t complain, but…it’s not like things have gotten any better.” you shrugged before catching something with the corner of your eye. “Sorry Felix, but I have to go do something real quick.”

“Oh. No need to apologize.” the man softly nodded with his usual smile, offering a bit of a wave before he turned his attention back to the campfire. 

You stood up from the log you had been on, taking a few glances at your peers as to make sure that nobody really realized you leaving the campsite. Once sure that everybody was far too occupied with each other or resting up, you finally turned and made your way down the makeshift path of twigs and leaves created by the first survivors. 

As the cold wind blew right through you, making your jacket fly with it before you gripped onto its flaps. Slightly shivering, you tightly closed them around you before feeling a new warmth overcome you. With this warmth came a purring, an almost snotty one that sounded in the distance while also not being too far. 

Looking up ahead you saw nothing but the endless rows of trees, but the sounds became louder as you stood in place. You watched the emptiness, eventually seeing as a shape formed in said direction.

“What are you doing around here?” you promptly grinned, taking a single look behind you as there was still no suspicion from the other survivors. 

Before you rang the Wailing Bell as a killer’s form slowly came to visibility. He stared down at you, head tilted like every other time as he gave steady yet rough breaths. 

“Trial…over.”

“How’d it go?” you reached a hand out to the man’s forearm, his head turning so that his eyes averted from yours. “Not good, huh?”

Philip shook his head, soon feeling the tips of your fingers brush against his chin and jawline. It was more than enough to have him turning back to you, having him lean his head into the palm that you had now placed on his cheek.

His sunken eyes slowly shut as a deep grumble sounded in his throat, almost causing his chest to vibrate as his hot breath was felt on your skin. Philip’s shoulders dropped as did his vulnerability, purring against your hand before finally opening his eyes to lovingly gaze at you.

“I don’t suppose you’d  want to stay at the campfire, huh?” you whispered, gazing back at the man who leaned down so that his forehead was pressed against yours. Both of your hands were holding his face, thumbs caressing his barky features. “It has been a while since we’ve had time to ourselves…”

“Agreed.” Philip croaked, almost restraining himself with every fiber of his being from closing the gap between your faces.

“Just do it.” you whispered a giggle, bringing in Philip’s face to barely brush your lips against his. “Kiss me like you miss me.”

Philip gave a sigh of euphoria, eventually letting his weapon drop but making sure to ever so gently place the large bell on the ground. His hands were on your waist as he felt your hands now come around his neck, bringing him closer so that your lips could finally meet.

He brought your body closer to his, having brought his hands to the back of your legs to lift you up with ease. His hands remained there, helping you wrap your legs around his frame.

It was moments like these that Philip could melt for, making sure to hold back and now give you such a feverish kiss. Not realizing that he had roughened the kiss, Philip had pressed your back against a nearby tree as you found yourself needing to catch your breath.

“I missed you too.” you breathed out after Philip had removed his lips from yours, hearing him as his breaths got a tad bit louder. Desperate even.

“I’m starting to think that your trial really was a bad one.” you brought a hand to his cheek as he gripped your legs, Philip leaning his head into your palm once again before turning his face so that his lips were on it. You watched as his lips parted, Philip slightly baring his teeth as you felt his now heavy breaths on your skin.

“Or you…really missed me…” you whispered as you felt Philip’s lips latch onto your neck, instantly sucking on the skin he had practically made into a sensitive mess after the many bruises he had given you.  

He pressed himself against you even more, enough to have his hardening member rub itself against your crotch area in desperation.

“Oh gosh…” you gulped as you placed your hands on Philip’s forearms, feeling the veins that were pulsating with the leftover adrenaline from his last trial. “Phil…?”

Somewhat surprisingly, Philip looked up from your neck as he looked you deep in the eyes, almost purring at the sight of your half-lidded orbs.

“I love you.” you purred before Philip placed his lips on yours, the kiss slowly becoming ardent once again. His rough lips felt soft and moist as they moved against yours, now parting and letting his tongue glide over, asking for an entrance.

You opened your lips, letting his tongue slip in as your hands traveled down to his crotch. Thankfully, all Philip wore were his bandages that could easily be loosened and lowered despite the leather straps on his hips.

Soon enough, his length brushed against your thigh, that enough to make Philip shiver.

“Wait, wait.” you softly pushed Philip away, he refusing to untouch you as he at least kept his lips on your jawline. “Phil, I gotta take off my shorts.”

A groan escaped Philip, making you giggle as you unbuttoned your bottoms and let them drop before your undergarment followed. Before you could even react, Philip gripped onto your hips to spin around your body in an instant. With your back facing him, you were made to bend over so that your hands were placed on the trunk of the tree before you.

Philip’s arms wrapped around your waist as he brought his face to the wrinkles of your shirt, rubbing his nose on it as his tip stroked the folds of your entrance. His pre-cum was smeared all over it mixing with the juices that he had provoked.

His arms snaked under your shirt, feeling every inch of skin he could on your chest while his member began to rub itself with more force. Philip removed an arm from your waist, instead bringing it down in between your legs, using his fingers to split your folds open. Finally, he insert himself into your hole, purring as you gave a bit of a gasp at the contact.

“Phil,” you let out a desperate breath. “Stop making me wait…”

Philip growled in response, leaving two fingers on your clit as he made sure to fit whatever of his length fit inside you.

Your nails scraped against the tree as he filled you up, but you had to bite your lip when he pulled out in an almost tantalizing manner.

“Phil..” you whined as you looked behind you, then gasping at Philip’s hips meeting yours once he gave a thrust.

He didn’t wait for you to say or do anything else, pulling out and then thrusting back in soon after. At this point, you were pretty sure he was attempting to control himself.

Philip repeated his motions before his mouth opened, his hot breaths still felt on your back through the cloth of your shirt. He soon increased the pace, but not enough to have himself digging his nails into your skin.

“Phil…” you spoke one more time, now bringing one of your hands down to clasp it on Philip’s that was wrapped around your waist, fingers intertwining as your soft palm lay over his knuckles.

He wasn’t going to speed up, at least not immediately, and you knew that. Philip wanted to keep it slow, but that wasn’t going to be enough. You just had to speak one word to have him giving it his all.

“Philip.”

You softly breath as you felt Philip almost freeze, a silence filling the trees as you awaited a response.

Soon enough, Philip retrieved his hand from yours and the other from your clit. Both his hands were on your hips now, gripping onto them as a growl rumbled in his chest. Almost immediately, began to thrust into you at a faster pace. The more he did it, the faster he went. The hungrier he got after a good while of not seeing you.

“Oh…oh Phil,” you shut your eyes with an elated smile, moans escaping your lips as Philip’s fingers dug into your hips. You were sure to have bruises once this was all done.

“Just like that.” you commented as Philip leaned down to press his chest against your back, lips right beside your ear as you heard his own desperate sounds. Even in that eagerness, Philip was not completely satisfied.

To your dismay, Philip completely pulled out, leaving a string of your cum connecting his and your genitals.

“Phil,” you gave a whimper, soon feeling as the male made you stand erect before spinning you around once again.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, almost like prey that had just been cornered by its hunter.

He stared down at you hungry eyes, his garbled sounds being the only thing heard in the soft wind besides your breaths that had become louder.

Philip soon leaned down to smash his lips on yours, prompting you to plant your hands on his broad shoulders as he brought his hands back down to the back of your legs. 

You were hoisted back up and against the tree’s trunk as the breathy kiss refused to break, one of your hand having lowered to grasp Philip’s member. You felt his lips open in desperation at your touch, breathings becoming more and more as you aligned his tip with your entrance once again.

Philip was almost trying to catch his breath as you dug your nails into his back, slightly moving your hips after having slid all the way down to his base. He was doing most of the work, helping you move up and down on him before he removed his lips from yours. Once again, he had his mouth on your neck, tongue licking you as his teeth were once again bared.

“Ju…just do it…” you moaned, placing a hand behind Philip’s head in hopes of removing his worries. “Philip, please.~”

At this, Philip sunk his teeth into your neck, a painful yet pleasurable sensation that was enough to make you cry out to him.

His tongue lapped up the blood that released after his teeth broke your skin, his hands making you move faster on him.  

His tip was hitting the end of your inside, making you pant along with him as he also began to twitch.

Already were you shaking, a bit of drool staining the corner of your lips, especially after Philip made sure to lock your ankles behind him so that he could actually thrust into you. One of his hands had come up to the tree you were on, his nails not scraping but clawing deep wounds into the bark before his hands switched positions. However, the second hand had instead come down to your bud, furiously rubbing it to bring you to your climax.

A knot had been forming in the pit of your stomach, becoming tighter as Philip now used two fingers to massage your clit. It brought you extremely close, the next things being enough to make you scream out his name in the emptiness of the woods.

He was almost trembling, inhuman pants leaving his lips as you began to feel his cum begin to shoot out inside you. Philip buried his face into your chest after removing his hand from your crotch, instead wrapping them around your frame as he latched on.

His monstrous cries were muffled by your chest as his fingers nearly ripped into the fabric of your shirt. He couldn’t control his own shaking, neither the thrusting he continued even after coming inside you.

Philip’s breaths eventually settled down, his senses slowly coming before he felt you shaking in his hold. 

“A…Angel?” Philip croaked as he ran his lips along your jawline, then rubbing his nose against your cheek.

“I’m…okay.” you sighed as you returned the affections, opening your eyes before they met with Philip’s.

“Good.” he managed to say, a smile forming on his lips as your foreheads were pressed against each other again. 

“I really missed you Phil.” you rubbed your nose with his, Philip doing the same with a gargled purr.

“Missed…you…too…” Phil tried his best to say, rubbing his cheek with yours, opening his eyes as he sensed you do so. Philip couldn’t help, just like every other time, staring deeply into your eyes for as long as he could.

[the-faceless-bride]

I have an idea...an angsty and spicy, MESSY idea.... the Wraith. Dbd. Right? X reader, HOWEVER, stay with me. It's canonical that Wraith has a romance with the Nurse... right? Right? What if- Wraith falls for survivor reader and its an angsty mess between Reader, Wraith, and Nurse?