#dwight fairfield/reader

[yanderes-galore]

pathetic yanderes my beloveds... This immediately reminded me of Dwight Fairfield (DBD). And now I want to see more content for this lil guy (～￣▽￣)～

Can you write yandere concept for him? :>

Yandere! Dwight Fairfield Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Clingy behavior, Stalking, Slight manipulation, Blood, Drugging, Yandere is STRETCHING IT..., Dubious relationship.

Let's be honest, I doubt Dwight is that much of a threat as a yandere.

He isn't going to murder anyone and even kidnapping seems... far-fetched.

He isn't some sort of manipulative mastermind.

He's more like someone who would follow his crush around like a lost puppy.

For example maybe he falls for a fellow coworker, or maybe he finds himself fond of a fellow Survivor choosing to help him through the Entity's realm?

Out of all the Survivors in DBD, who are usually quite tame, Dwight is one of the tamest.

You could trust Dwight with a lot and he wouldn't ever want to betray your trust once he has it.

I wouldn't even call him that possessive.

He's more likely to be jealous and quietly stew in it rather than act out on it.

Most of the time Dwight would keep his obsession to himself.

He doesn't want to worry you and is probably aware of how wrong such feelings are.

He doesn't want to inconvenience his love.

Dwight is very submissive and doesn't like getting in the way.

He's a yandere who can be easily controlled or just isn't a problem for you at all.

Pretty sure any murder from him would be by accident.

Maybe he does something such as attempted sabotage on another person to keep them away from you.

Only for something to go wrong and now he has blood on his hands.

He seems more likely to panic if he murdered someone than anything.

Like, he seems like the type to faint at the sight of blood before he went into The Fog.

The closest you get to stalking is Dwight following you around like he's lost.

He gets shy about telling you he wants to hang out, just consuming any sort of attention you throw at him.

You could be the meanest person ever to him and he'd probably thank you.

The most evil thing Dwight could probably do is sabotage.

Things like drugging drinks like in his tome or attempting to spread rumors.

Which... isn't too harmful unless he messed something up.

To make Dwight a worse yandere however, he may also take secret pictures of you.

He's really just a pathetic stalker... so many other yanderes are bigger threats.

If you just talked to him and gave him attention he's literally no real danger.

He's someone you could start a relationship with and nothing bad happens.

He's just your pathetic nerd boyfriend who tries his best to be sweet to you.

His weirdest quirks would be his constant following you around and his... questionable pictures on his camera roll.

Traditional yandere things are where he fails at, he's no mastermind.

He's just... jealous and scared you'll find someone better than him....

Which often leads to him clinging to you.

However... If you want me to make this darker....

Maybe you try to teach Dwight to be more confident in himself... and it backfires.

Maybe you encourage him?

He tells you he's been struggling with his thoughts... fighting with a decision in his mind for a while.

Seeing it as innocent, since he seems innocent, you encourage him with his thoughts because you care.

Only for Dwight to slip sleeping pills into your drink and for you to wake up tied in your room later on.

Perhaps... He has more skeletons in his closet than you thought....

Although, he'd probably immediately want to back out of it when he sees you upset.

It was just a game! Or... his strange way of flirting...

He's sorry...

Please tell him you still like him...?

Of course, that's before The Fog.

He's practically nearly harmless in The Fog.

Sure, maybe he could get some other poor fool sacrificed to be petty about them being around you.

But let's be honest... He has such sad puppy energy?

Dwight could probably win your heart by being pathetic.

No murder or kidnapping needed.

It's overkill and he'd mess it up somehow anyways.

Instead, he'll show you he's your best option.

He's a great leader, he can protect you, he can tend to your every need.

All you need to do... is love him!

Dwight fails at being a yandere except for some odd quirks... and would probably still win!

Although... if someone was trying to charm you away from him...

He'll try his best to grow a backbone and deal with them... can't guarantee he'll be fully successful though.

[theres-a-body-here]

Dracula!reader x Male Survivors

A relic from the past is snatched by the Entity. With no desire to starve to death, they reluctantly obey the wishes of the spider god

Adam Francis

As a bibliophille, Adam has read quite a few iterations of Vampires from folklore and fiction

From the sparkling to the mindless beasts

But you seemed...polite

Well, as far as a killer could be in the realm

"May I feed on you? Just a bit?"

He appreciates the gesture, but it's hard to feel grateful when the choice is an illusion

You'll feed on him and his friends, willingly or not

He knows the Entity is merciless to killers who don't obey, so he cuts you some slack

You return the sentiment by taking the longest path to a hook when you carry him

Eventually, you mutter under your breath about how much you miss your library

Adam immediately perks up as he hangs limpy in your hold

A fellow bibliophille?

It's not long before some sort of friendship develops

You spoke softly as Adam fidgeted with the chest's lock, "And these other vampires…sparkle?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Not my most favorite series."

You gently rubbed at your forearm, imagining yourself under the warmth of the sun.

"I also remember reading about some that suck blood through their fingers," he added as he managed to open the chest.

"Fascinating," you murmured under your breath.

Steve Harrington

For the love of God please try to act mean around him

The moment he finds out you're not as vicious and brutal as the other killers, it's over

"You vex me"

"Oh sorry, am I a pain in the neck?"

It's open season for Steve

Vampire and undead jokes incoming

Don't feel bad about tunneling him

You probably don't even want to feed on him

He takes offense to that

"Who wouldn't want a taste of all this sexy"

Not even a hook to the shoulder stops him from being annoying

"I'm not saying that," you hissed, glaring at Steve as he struggles to keep the Entity's claw from puncturing his chest.

"Come on, please?," he cried out as the pain of the hook in his shoulder began to take it's toll. "Please, please, please?"

Steve felt his grasp weaken as you glared a hole into his head.

"I'll stop with the jokes for three- no five trials if you do it," he pleaded.

You let out a long and exhausted sigh before looking around. Once you made sure no one was around, you gave in to his begging.

"Bleh bleh bleh," you spoke in a deadpan voice as you stuck your arms out.

Steve's shit eating grin never left him, even as the Entity's claw pierced right through his chest and lifted him up towards the sky.

Dwight Fairfield

You freak him the fuck out

You're so silent in your movements

You literally pop out of nowhere and spook the shit out of him

He could be working on a gen and then you appear out of thin air

"Good Evening"

He shrieks as you lift him onto your shoulder

It doesn't help that you don't seem to understand how your words affect him

"Would you be open to having your neck sucked?"

"WHA-WHAT?!"

He thinks you're doing it on purpose

In reality, the time period you're from doesn't really do innuendos

It's only when you promise to let him escape the trial after you feed that he really considers the offer

Dwight trembled as your mouth hovered above his neck. You breathed in his alluring scent deeply, savoring every bit of it.

"Mmmm…" You moaned softly against his skin, making his face erupt into a blush. "You smell so incredibly delicious."

Dwight stuttered anxiously under your tight hold. "D-Do you think it'll hurt?" His voice quavered slightly.

You were certain you would taste nervousness in his blood.

"Only if you desire it to," you purred reassuringly, opening your mouth to reveal your sharp fangs.

[fattummyt]

Ji-Woon Hak | The Trickster/Gender Neutral Reader - Tick Tock Tick Tock 🌶️

Warnings: this fic involves themes of dubious consent and coercion

Tags: hand job, blow job, cum sharing, language barrier, no pronouns used, dubious consent, bargaining, minor character(s) death/injury

Author's Notes: No reference toward the readers gender or genitalia is used. This one has been in the holster for a few years now, but it's finally time to release it to the wild. Enjoy! (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ Read it on AO3 here!

Summary: A strange set of tally marks appeared on your skin one day in the fog. A series of lines, about five or so, just along your neck. You were the only survivor you'd met sporting this odd branding. Some sort of weird indicator of an obsession on behalf of the entity, maybe? You didn't understand the significance until a series of successful escapes where you began to realize… the marks are counting down. And every failed escape added two more tallies in its place.

Since then you've become ruthless for survival. A renewed interest in avoiding death with the possibility of finally escaping the fog for good has you acting out of character. Brutally sacrificing and abandoning your comrades at many points in time.

You're down to your last hash mark and for whatever reason, this killer has quite the obsession with you. You're pinned down, with him standing between you and your eventual freedom, when he seems to propose a deal that could satisfy you both. Just what would you be willing to do for a chance to successfully escape the entity's clutches for the last time?

The Trickster was ruthless tonight. 

He'd had his sights set on you all day. You couldn't even seem to take a step near a generator without him pinning you down.

Everyone knew what this match meant to you. Whether empathy or jealousy was their motive, they were all hell bent on ensuring your escape. Dwight died on hook, chasing the killer away from your body long enough for Lee Yun-Jin to pick you up. Claudette was brutally killed mere meters away from you just moments ago.

The sound of blades cutting through the air was barely audible above Lee Yun-Jin’s cries from behind you.

Suddenly she shrieked as she fell into you, tumbling, before taking you to the ground. The brief chance you took to look behind you revealed the horrid state of her wounds. Daggers pierced into her back, and forearms, jutting out her skin like porcupine quills. She was limp, nearly lifeless now as she whimpered, her voice small and garbled.

"Get--off!" You growled, scrambling from beneath her on your hands and knees, not before a dagger stabbed through her shoulder dragged against your calf muscle, leaving an excruciating long wound.

You cursed yourself inaudibly, unable to even put weight on it without crying out in pain.

There was no escaping him now. 

They'd thrown themselves on every blade they could to protect you and what did you have to show for it? With only 3 generators done and one dead already, you were nothing but food for the entity.

You had to keep going, crawling away from her as far as possible.

With Lee Yun-Jin's death, a bell tolled throughout the area, indicating exactly what you feared. You were the last survivor standing. There was no chance of getting to a door, not at this rate. He could find you at any moment. Still, somehow, hope found you even during the darkest of times. 

The trademark metallic slam of the hatch opening caught your attention.

You glanced over to your left to see its dark miasma oozing from the earth, a mere few feet away. On the verge of tears, you crawled your way toward it, the fate of Lee Yun-Jin sealed as you distantly heard Trickster’s blunt weapon hit bone. That only motivated you to crawl faster.

You were nearly there, you could feel whispers of the cold fog that emanated from the pit when the weight of his boot pressed against your back, stealing all the air from your lungs before the lid shut with a slam. A teasing laugh burst forth from him.

Bastard.

"Aw~" He sang, following that up with some choice words, no doubt bragging about his successful killing spree injected with expletives as he rattled on in Korean.

“Just fucking kill me.” You growled.

"Mmm?" He mumbled something more as he stepped closer.

“What the fuck are you waiting for? You won. Just fucking kill me already and get this over with.”

He stabbed his bat into the dirt in front of you, sitting on top of the hatch now.

You didn't fight back, didn't crawl away. You just laid there, waiting as he placed his feet at either side of your head.

He whistled for your attention, snapping his fingers to no response. You weren't gonna give this dickhead the entertainment he wanted just so he could kill you.

Just get it over with already. 

The pain would be excruciating, but it was minor compared to the suffering you'd experience surviving for another 3– or who knows how many– more matches here in the fog.

“Ey.” He barked at you. “Ey!”

He muttered something. What sounded like a curse, before he stood to his feet, snatching your wrist from the ground, strong enough to tug you aggressively to your knees.

What now? Does he need me to fucking beg before he lobs his bat into my fucking skull?

He practically dragged you along your knees now, pinning your wrist in his grasp so he could drag your palm across the bulge of his crotch.

Shit he's hard.

The thought came so absentmindedly you hardly had time to recognize what he was doing.

“Get the fuck off me.” You jerked away, earning a frustrated chuckle from him. “What the fuck are you trying to do–”

The tip of his bladed bat pressed against your throat. Just below the fated tally mark. He bent at the waist so he was nearly eye level with you as he followed up with something you couldn't understand, and it was likely better that way.

Your eyes are tracking his lips, but nothing he says makes remotely any sense over the blood thumping through your ears.

It was gross how handsome his face was. Even while spattered with blood.

Shut up. Stop thinking like that.

He whispered something disconcerting, voice dark as he gestured toward the hatch. He pulled away his jacket to reveal a singular matching hash mark just above his left pec.

Suddenly it felt like you understood everything he was saying now, as a glimmer of hope kicked blood back into your brain. He kicks open the hatch, darkness and hollowed voices echo forth from the pit and immediately he has your full attention.

He speaks to you, in Korean still, like you can somehow magically understand him, gesturing toward the hatch before he reaches toward you, fingers a bitter cold as he grabs you around the cheeks, pursing your lips.

He curses something quietly as he strokes over his crotch again, his frustrated hiss prickling across your skin. He's hard, nearly enough that he's straining against his zipper, and for whatever reason, he needs you to handle him?

Perhaps, this isn't his own free will, but the entity's doing?

“Eh?” He motioned, urging you on. “Tick tock tick tock.” He sang, pointing to his wrist.

As soon as the hatch echoed shut again the countdown timer started. This was your best shot. To just give him what he wants, even if it makes your brain scramble at the thought. Under better circumstances perhaps you'd be more willing, but here in the fog it seems like even your fantasies become twisted, sadistic deformities.

The entity had a way of doing that. Learning one's deepest desires and using them against you.

Why else would you both be matched up together? Why else would he already be this hard, unable to satisfy his needs, despite himself? Having to choose between the freedom of escape and desire for release?

He's already unbuckling his belt impatiently by the time you crawl over, having made up your mind. This time, you don't jerk away as he takes your hand, placing it against his crotch. He's unreasonably far along, especially given the fact that he's not actually touched himself. Just how long has this been going on?

Was he really this turned on the whole match?

The thought makes you quiver somewhere you don't wanna think about. 

Can't think like that at a time like this. Just focus.

You make quick work of unfastening his trousers and he's whispering something in between grunts– curses or thanks, more than likely.

He's wearing nothing underneath– which somehow aligns with his character in your mind– and as soon as you tug him free he's hissing into the air.

Same color as his lips…

As you stroke him, you try not to think about his details too much. Like his circumcised dick, or the intention behind the heart shaped trimmed hairs around the base.

You start with one hand gripped around his shaft, stroking at a slow, sensual pace. He's grunting, hands gripping his hair, eyes half lidded when he quickly starts growing impatient. He pulls your hand away so he can bend forward, hungrily gazing into your eyes before he spit into your palm. You return back to pumping him, squeezing tighter around his head as he briefly fucks into your fist.

He moans in appreciation, strumming his fingers over his nipples for a few short strokes before he smacks your hand away from his cock, answering in a long gasping moan.

You return back to stroking and he repeats this action twice nearly, stroking him until his voice is high and breathy just to pull you off as he gets too close to his climax.

“How the fuck am I supposed to jack you off if you keep stopping me?”

He doesn't necessarily respond but he chuckled devilishly, whispering something darkly as you watched his cock pulsating.

You're taking control, now, edging be damned. Time is ticking down too quickly, and with it so is your patience. Quickly and impulsively, you decide to suck him into your mouth, lapping at his tip as you use your three fingers to stroke him at his base.

He gasps loudly, as his hands join to grip against your head. Tight and trembling as breathes loudly, the metal chains at his waist jingling against your forehead as he mutters a plead warning before pulling away.

With his head tossed back, one hand stroking feverishly over his cock, melodic, tense moans echo from his throat as he's finishing all over his hand. Orgasm strong enough that he knocked his bat to the ground, not at all quick about retrieving it. Totally blissed out, shuddering through shockwaves of stimulation.

Fuck that was hot…

You have to fight the urge to try stroking him again. And you're completely entranced, watching him pant into the night air for the next few moments before he’s blinking back to reality, and is suddenly reminded of your presence.

He mumbles something before a long, breathy moan as he brings his hands to his lips, carefully licking his fingers clean as he lingers in front of you.

You're honestly a little too pliant now, allowing him as he pushes his fingers into your mouth, craning it open so he can lean down, pressing his tongue inside. Remnants of his cum mixed saliva flooding your senses.

That snaps you out of your lust fueled haze and you react viscerally, shoving him away as you rush to spit your mouth clean. He wipes his mouth against his sleeve, laughing.

“Motherfucker!” You cursed.

As you will yourself not to get sick, not to commit the salty taste coating the back of your tongue to memory, you don't notice he's got his bat in hand again until you hear the familiar opening of the hatch.

When you finally look over, he's smiling cheekily, twirling the weapon around with ease.

“Tick tock tick tock.” He sang again, tapping his wrist.

The entity would be coming at any moment if you didn't hurry, and it was obvious that now that his libido was gone, his patience had run out as well.

You can think of nothing to say to punctuate this puzzling departure besides a simple, “Thank you.” He answers softly, in an almost sing-songy tone– what you interpret as a sort of sweet, genuine goodbye, or good luck– as you crawl in head first, letting gravity lead you down into the abyss.

Nothing about your experience in the fog was either beneficial or redeeming, but in a way, this sick, salty kiss, felt like the most appropriate send off.

[yanderedbdimagines]

Can I get a yandere dwight fic please? One where the reader is returning to the campfire after being in a rlly bad trial because the killer was tunneling them. Love your blog and stay safe

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Of course! And ooooooff that feeling of a bad trial when a killer has it out for you. D:

Thank you for liking my blog, and I hope you’re doing well, too! Even if this request is quite old now.

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Dwight Fairfield

The way you slouched, coupled with the sluggish weight behind each step… He didn’t even need to see your face to know you had just come out of a rough and gruesome trial.

Your shoulders sagged with exhaustion, your steps slow as you barely register the soft rustle of grass beneath your feet; trudging towards the campfire to seek warmth and companionship.

The trial had completely drained you. Hollowed you out, every moment still clawing at the edges of your mind. Desperate, ear-piercing screams. The pounding of your own panicked heart, deafening in your skull. The chase, stretching on for an eternity until your legs could no longer carry you. And then, the worst of it after you got caught, the sickening force as the hook pierced through flesh, pushing past bone, anchoring you in place like a broken, discarded toy.

The Entity’s presence had lingered afterward, a coiling vice around your soul and feeding upon it. You could still feel its cold fingers in the deepest crevices of your mind. You were lucky, perhaps, that death in this place was fleeting. The absolute agony of it dissolving into something distant when the trial ended, only for the cycle to begin anew in the near future.

Yet it always left some sort of a mark, even when your body was fully restored. It wasn’t scars that lingered, but the way the Fog gnawed at something deeper. Your resolve. Your will. Perhaps even your very sense of self.

As you approached, the familiar, slightly hunched figure of Dwight Fairfield caught your eye. He sat alone this time, fidgeting with his hands, rubbing his fingers together like he was trying to shake off a lingering nervous energy. The firelight flickered over his glasses, momentarily obscuring his gaze until his eyes locked onto you.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with a thick layer of worry.

You nodded weakly, not trusting yourself to speak. The last thing you wanted was to burden him with your troubles. He had enough of his own.

Dwight’s expression darkened for a split second, his jaw tensing as his fingers reached and picked at his watch instead. Then, just as quickly, the softness returned- the concern and the understanding. But there was something else beneath it too. An edge you couldn’t quite place.

"I can tell you’re not," he mumbled, pushing himself up from the log with an awkward shuffle, making space for you to sit down next to him.

“Were they tunneling you?” His voice was quieter now, almost too calm, but there was an unmistakable tingle lurking beneath it. He didn’t even need to ask. He already knew which killer had done this to you. To have brought you into the state you are in now.

You hesitated, then gave him a small nod.

Dwight inhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching before he raked a hand through his messy black hair. His mouth pressed into a thin line. You had known him long enough to recognize that flicker of frustration. Not at you. Never at you, but at the situation. His mind was already working, spiraling, latching onto something unseen. The unfairness of it all.

"That's… not right," he muttered under his breath. His fists clenched until his knuckles turned pale.

You shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen Dwight react like this. He always cared. Too much. More than he should. He had a tendency to take on burdens that weren’t his own, to step into the role of leader. Even when he was afraid. But with you, it was different.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, shifting awkwardly. "I. Uh, I mean, I know there's not much I can do, but if you need to talk or, I don’t know, just sit here for a while… that’s okay too."

Classic Dwight. Uncertain, a little nervous, but always trying. Always wanting to help. Even if his version of help sometimes felt like it bordered on something uncanny.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and sat down beside him, close enough to feel the warmth of the fire but not too close to invade his space.

Dwight didn’t push for more and didn’t force you to talk. He just sat there, fidgeting with the frayed hem of his tie this time, his knee bouncing slightly with the pent-up energy he couldn’t quite shake. Yet his presence was still a quiet comfort to you. His gaze flickered to you every so often, unreadable behind his glasses, but he didn’t say anything else.

Survival was never assured in the Fog, but sometimes, having someone who cared was enough to make it all a little bit more bearable.

[g0blintears]

[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.

Seven. Dark Sense

Time worked differently in the realm. Sunlight didn’t exist, and the sky was always painted a dark, inky black. Nothing was ever overgrown, and the survivors never knew when they were going to be summoned into a trial until they found themselves alone with only three other people in the middle of an abandoned campfire. If it wasn’t for the entity’s servant, who would often have a routine schedule for meal time, they wouldn’t have ever known when it was the appropriate time to eat and sleep.

Now having woken up from his rest, Felix, along with all the other survivors, found themselves sitting at various tables with their trays of plain bread and baked potatoes placed in front of them.

Currently, Felix sat in front of his childhood best friend, Élodie Rakoto. Wearing a loose fitted, long sleeve crop top that complimented the pendant wrapped around her neck, and dark black jeans that fitted for comfort, said woman with coily black hair and dark brown eyes was someone who usually carried herself with a smile of confidence and a face that always looked like she was coming up with mischief. However, as he whispered to her the current theories some of the other survivors had previously talked about, the woman couldn’t help but look at her blond friend in worry.

“You guys are planning to, what?” She asked in a whisper shout. Her eyes darted both left and right as she made sure to keep her voice low from wandering ears. “Are you guys actually doing this?”

“Well, the plan isn’t really in motion. We still want to gather more details and see if this is even worth working out. But, if they do show any signs of being capable to evolve, we will plan this out more thoroughly.” 

Élodie looked at Felix, dumbfounded before scoffing. With her fork, she dug into her potatoes. "You guys are crazy. So crazy." She muttered, her thick French accent seeping with each syllable. Stuffing her mouth with the unseasoned potatoes, she continued, "But if this plan of yours works, make sure the servant of darkness learns how to season. This shit tastes awful."

Felix sighed, “We’re being serious.”

“And so am I!” She exclaimed, pointing at Felix with her potato still attached to her fork. “Look at this! It’s not even cooked all the way! Last week Ace’s potato wasn’t even cooked! He and David ended up playing hackysack with it.”

Ignoring her words, Felix frowned. “I actually thought you’d be more optimistic about this.” 

Ever since he met Élodie on Dyer Island, Felix knew that she was someone who was stubborn and assertive. Élodie was always down for an adventure, someone who was willing to take risks. A troublemaker if you will. So imagine his surprise when his usually devious friend looked at him the way he usually looked at her whenever she had something crazy planned. 

Rolling her eyes, Élodie placed down her fork and sighed. “Look, we all want to escape, but trying to escape through the entity’s servant? That’s crazy! What if it backfires? We don’t know what happens to people that step out of line. It hasn’t been recorded. Hell, we don’t even know what happened to the people that were in this realm before us. All we have is that journal.” She then motioned to the book under Felix’s arm.

At her words, the man subconsciously gripped the leather binder. 

“And it hasn’t really been as helpful as we had hoped.”

Felix pursed his lips, “I know. But it’s a start, don’t you think?” The male’s grey eyes clashed with his friend’s dark brown eyes, his stare bored into her with desperation. “How long are we going to be here? How many more deaths are we all going to be forced to endure? If there is another way to escape this hell, why not take it? What exactly do we have to lose?” 

“We don’t know-” She began to answer, but was cut off by the blond.

“Exactly! We don’t know. Élodie, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always been one to never shy away from the unknown. Back in Dyer Island, you were the one to encourage us to step out of our comfort zone. You were the one to tell us to accept ourselves, but to also be open minded to chance. You lead us to grand adventures, and that in itself should show how incredibly clever and brave you are. So why not take one more risk?” Although desperate, Felix’s words held his truth as he reminded his friend of their days back in their youth.

As he looked at his friend expectantly, Élodie chose to ignore his last question and instead crossed her arms over her chest and rose an eyebrow at the male. “Trying to use your flattery skills on me to get on my good side now, huh? Very sneaky of you, Ritcher.” 

For a moment, the male didn’t know how to respond. But as soon as he caught a glimpse of her smile, the male shook his head and let out an airy chuckle, “But it’s working, right?” 

Élodie hummed, “Very tempting, but I still think it’s a bad idea.” She then looked at Felix with a grimace on her face. “Plus, I don’t know how I can be of any help. You should know better than anyone that my memories and yours aren’t all there.”

Felix’s brows furrowed, the once laid back attitude he had with his friend diminished as he mulled over her words. 

“I know, but I still think you could help me explain some things to the others better. Unlike everyone else here, we at least grew up knowing of the entity’s existence before arriving here- especially you. You have at least some knowledge of creatures similar to the entity and its servant. That’s why we wanted to let you know what was going on. You can give us some more insight from your own experiences.”

Élodie looked around once more. Speaking of you and the entity made her skin crawl, almost as if you were listening to the two of them speak at that very moment.

“I don’t know…” She trailed off. Although she was unsure, Felix was right. They couldn’t go on like this. The pain of dying was agonizing, especially in the most brutal ways. At this point, she wanted to die and just stay dead. But of course, that wasn’t an option. So if they had to resort to wild theories, maybe it could possibly lead to somewhere better than here.

But there’s still a chance that this could end badly, very badly. She couldn’t think of what could possibly happen. Afterall, they’ve endured it all. What if there’s more though? Something worse? What could be worse than death in a form of recycled torture? 

She didn’t know. 

She wanted to take the risk, but at the same time, she felt hesitant. The last time she went into something without a plan, she had led her and her friends' parents to vanish. Her memories were foggy. She couldn’t remember much of that day, but she did remember that she was the reason the entity took them. She remembered the distraught and regret she felt once she exited that lab, but not with her parents. She remembered the spiral of obsession she went through trying to find them, all of it leading to where she is now. 

Into the unknown.

This plan, if gone through, could end badly. And she wasn’t sure if she could endure another incident like that again. Her once obsessed mind was now beginning to heal after all those years of guilt. Could she really go through it all again? Squeezing the fork in her hand, the woman shook her head. She couldn’t.

As though reading her thoughts, Felix reached out his arm from across the table, and squeezed his friend’s hand. Instantly, Élodie was brought out of her thoughts and gazed over at Felix with wide eyes. 

“I know what you’re thinking, and I promise we will be careful. You don’t have to help if you don’t want to, but I know your strengths and I know you could help us plan this out.” Giving the top of her hand one last squeeze, the male sent her a wink and a small smile. “Afterall, The Pariahs are smart and fearless, remember?”

Reminding her of their childhood friend group name, the woman instantly regained her confidence. She chuckled and shook her head, “Alright. Alright. I get it.” Pushing his hand away, Élodie went back to eating her now cold food. “Fine, I’m in.”

Brushing back his blond hair, the male grinned at his friend. “Good.”

Looking around for a bit, Felix watched as most of the survivors dispersed after their meals. One after the other, they all walked their separate ways until finally Dwight, Feng Min, Yun-Jin, Zarina, and Adam joined Felix and Élodie at their table.

Once the group was together, Felix spoke to the group.

“Élodie says she’s in.”

“That’s great! The more the merrier.” Zarina exclaimed, then clasped her hands together before gazing upon the group. “So, how’s this going to work?” 

“Well, we should figure out if this plan has the possibility of even working.” Adam interjected, “We don’t want to be too hopeful. We could be unintentionally screwing ourselves over by feeding the entity if we do so.”

“Mm, good point.” Min hummed, “Does that mean we shouldn’t tell the others?”

“Probably not.” Dwight muttered, and pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “We don’t want to give false hope to the others and as Adam said, feed the entity. So let’s try keeping this to ourselves.”

“Okay, so don’t tell the others and don’t be too hopeful. What else?” Min quirked an eyebrow, looking at the group that turned to Dwight and Felix.

Dwight cleared his throat, “Well, since Élodie‘s agreed to help us, we can review what we do and don’t know.” His gaze then went over to Yun-Jin who was sitting at the far end of the table. “Especially since we have a newcomer in the realm.”

All eyes went to Yun-Jin, who brushed back her hair to hide her discomfort.

Élodie nodded, “Right. Sorry, I never introduced myself.” She then sent Yun-Jin a brief smile and a curt wave of her hand, “Élodie Rakoto, occult investigator.”

“Oh!” Yun-Jin’s eyes widened at this new piece of information. That explains why the others were so adamant on scheduling another group meeting but with Élodie involved. “So you’re familiar with all this stuff?”

“Yes. Both Felix and I have a bit of knowledge on the realm since we both grew up together, me a little more since I decided to make a career out of it.”

“Wait, you two knew each other outside the realm?”

Élodie snickered, “Yes, our parents were part of the same group called Imperiatti.” She then rubbed her temple in thought. Her eyes screwed shut as she tried to recall any of her memories, but as always, came back with nothing but static.

“Honestly I wish I could tell you guys what they did, but as most of you guys know, neither Felix or I have any memories of our lives that involve the entity or its servant. We just know that our parents were part of some sketchy ancient council that had something to do with the entity.”

“It wasn’t like worship, right?” Yun-Jin cut in, eyes wide as she stared at Élodie. She didn’t mean to sound judgmental, but from her perspective, if the two grew up worshiping the entity, she knew she could not trust them. “You guys weren’t part of a cult, were you?”

Élodie turned to her with a frown, “No. Well, we weren’t at least. I can’t speak for our parents, but I highly doubt it. When our parents were taken, I remember how scared they were for us. They fought off the entity. I just don’t remember what they did, but they ward it away long enough for us to escape.” 

Min groaned, “So we don’t know anything other than the basics from the journal. Great.”

“Journal?” Yun-Jin repeated, just as Felix raised up the book for her view. A dark leather bound book with yellow tinted pages was in full display as he placed the book in the middle of the table.

“It’s a journal written by a past survivor named Benedict Baker.”

Yun-Jin’s breath hitched in her throat, “Wait, what do you mean past survivor? There were others before us?” She then focused her eyes on Dwight, “People were here before you? I thought you, Meg, and the others showed up here alone?”

“We were alone.” Dwight confirmed, “When the four of us— me, Claudette, Meg, and Jake, when we arrived here, we were here alone. No other survivors. Just us at the campfire with the servant to greet us.”

Yun-Jin brought her hands to cover her mouth, “Oh my god. So there is a way to escape? Right? If there were others here before, where did they go?”

The group looked amongst themselves. 

“We don’t know.” Zarina interjected, her voice soft as she gazed down at the journal. “The journal just stops after ten entries. He claimed that it was becoming too much. His sanity was slipping and his hope shattered, so he left the journal behind. He apparently wrote more, but pages have been torn out.” 

Fuck.

Yun-Jin ran her fingers through her hair. Just as soon as she felt the sense of justified hope, it all came crashing down. “So we don’t know what happened to them?” She whispered.

More silence ensued.

“Well, from what Benedict wrote, with each "death" we become weaker. Little pieces of our souls get consumed by the entity. By that alone, we can only assume that— well...” Adam struggled to find his words. His leg bounced from under the table as his mind jumbled as to what happened to those past survivors. 

Fortunately, Adam didn’t have to finish his sentence as Feng mumbled under her breath what they were all thinking.

“They were devoured.”

Yun-Jin wanted to cry. She wanted to scream and throw a tantrum. She thought that there was no possible way to escape, but apparently there was, but it wasn’t as good as their own predicament. 

“…what happens if you’re devoured?” She asked, her voice hushed as she glanced at the group with red teary eyes.

Élodie sighed, “We don’t know…we could be met with peace— no longer feeling pain or joy since we would seize to exist, or we could be sentient and still feel every single pain of every life force the entity has consumed. But from my own studies on dark magic, I would place my money on the latter.”

“Oh god, what if we get devoured by going through this plan?!” Yun-Jin shouted, her eyes glanced at the group in alarm.

“Keep your voice down!” Min hissed, “We don’t want you-know-who to hear.”

“How do we know they’re not listening right now?” Yun-Jin scoffed.

“I’ve already checked with them and they’re preparing for the next trial with the killers.” Dwight answered, “So we have nothing to worry about.”

Yun-Jin frowned, “How do you know? I thought they were like— I don’t know, otherworldly? How are you sure they aren’t eavesdropping right now?”

“They may be a cosmic being, but they are far weaker than the entity, so they do have their limits.” Élodie reassured, “We’ve since learned that their omnipotent abilities aren’t as vast as we had once thought. My guess is that they can hear and see all, but they don’t truly hear and see everything. Like when looking at a picture for a moment, do you truly see all of the details in the work? Every paint stroke and sponge mark? Or when you are in a crowd in a city, you can hear bits of every sound, but not every conversation to its fullest extent. Since being in this realm, that is at least the conclusion me and a few others have come up with for their abilities.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Yun-Jin frowned, “Well, okay then, what if we get devoured, huh?” Yun-Jin snapped in frustration. “I thought you guys said that there was nothing to lose.”

“There is nothing to lose,” Min commented, sitting up straight and crossing her arms over her chest. “We get devoured if we go through with another escape plan or not. Might as well take the risk.”

“And we don’t know if those past survivors were devoured or not. For all we know, they may have escaped.” Zarina pointed out, easing the tension of the others.

Yun-Jin slowly nodded. Although she was still overwhelmed with all this new information, she at least could feel her worries ease as she was reminded that her survival was probable, she just needed the others to help.

“Fine then. What now?”

All eyes turned to Dwight. 

Said leader felt his face flush in embarrassment, but he covered it up by coughing into his fist. “Right. Well, now that we got most of the basics covered we should see if there is even a slim chance of the servant caving into an emotional connection.” His eyes then ventured to Élodie. “Is there a chance for them to rebel against the entity? Or at the very least, help us out?”

Élodie pursed her lips in thought, “Honestly? Yes, but a very slim chance. Back when I was collecting artifacts for my employer, he let me read up on ancient manuscripts, some of which described ancient gods called The Elder Ones. They were different forms of gods, some of which created the very concept of life and death. World eaters and realm creators. These gods would often create various sub species to play different roles.”

”One example of this being this really grotesque monster race that were built to be mountains of sorts, kinda like a living castle but with multiple mouths on its body. It was tanky, and at the very center of its core was where some of The Elder Ones would reserve their life force. They were usually seen as lower beings, and, well, they eventually gained consciousness and rebelled against The Elder Ones because of their lack of respect. Now it’s said that they peacefully reside as illusions of mountains and feed upon anything that stumbles across their backs.”

Élodie nodded to herself. Having read many manuscripts of different religions and tales, she often thought that maybe some of them were simply made up. However, being placed in the realm of the entity, having spoken to other survivors that come from vastly different times and worlds, she could undoubtedly say that it’s a possibility that some of those manuscripts told real lore of otherworldly places.

She just wasn’t sure how they could have possibly traveled from one realm to another.

“That’s just one example of the servant defying its role. There are many of these stories of creatures that would turn on their creators because they’ve either found a new purpose or were tired of the mistreatment.” Élodie bit her lower lip, “However, these creatures were always shown to be more…expressive than what we’re currently dealing with, so that’s why I think this theory can work to a certain degree.”

She then gazed up at the group, her eyes meeting Felix’s warm grey eyes.

“So you’re saying there is a chance?” He asked, eyeing his friend with a growing smile.

Élodie looked upon the group, all of them staring at her to give the final judgment. 

“Well, if there’s nothing to lose, I say let’s see if we can get a little expression on them.” She then grinned, the thought of this theory working actually sounded more and more real the further she thought on it. “If we can sway them enough, see if they have the capability to feel or even think to themselves, I think we have a pretty good shot.”

Looking at one another, the group found themselves feeling a wave of an emotion they haven’t truly felt in such a long time. It was a surreal feeling, and one that they all knew to be dangerous, yet they latched onto the feeling with an iron hold, refusing to let the emotion slip away into the entity’s grasp. 

They were going to get close to you. They had to.

The next trial was approaching, and so far, you hadn’t seen or heard from the killer who was supposed to be next to hunt.

Standing by the empty campfire, your dull [eye color] eyes watched as the flames of the fire pit flicker and dance. The crackling noise of the campfire burned as time went on, but it never once lost its flame. It continued to burn. Emitting a heat that you knew was nice for the mortals, but for yourself?

You took a step forward, your hand barely reached out to touch the flames.

It burned at your skin, but you couldn’t feel that. Instead, you watched as the fire engulfed your hand, not burning it and not causing it pain. Your fingers merely touched the flames, as though it was touching open air.

You couldn’t feel it. 

Suddenly, you put your hand down. Barely audible, you could hear breathing. Soft and scarcely present, but you could still make it out. It approached from the darkness of the forest. Despite knowing the intentions of the killer, you didn’t bother to move. Instead, you kept your eyes focused on the flames, awaiting the killer’s next move.

As quick as a shuddered breath, you could feel a presence loom behind you. One arm wrapped around your torso, and another holding out a knife in hand over your face.

The presence didn’t speak, but you didn’t need to see who they were to know who was behind you.

Your eyes glanced at the shining silver blade. A mirror image of yourself was present, along with the masked killer with a ghoulish appearance.

It was Ghostface.

[liesonmytongues]

*rubs hands together like a fly* these are actually just my kinktober writings.

Dwight Fairfield x GN reader

Synopsis- You and Dwight get into a predicament in your most recent trial, the issue is...he really needs to piss.

Warnings/CWs- piss, piss kink, this is pee, this prompt for kinktober was piss, you've been thoroughly warned about the piss, slight dub-con if you squint, being hunted by a xenomorph, wet and messy, handjobs, GN reader, humiliation, can be read as sub!Dwight

Word count- 2,300

Dwight hates the trials. Of course he does– everyone does –but he hates them so much. He was one of the first ones the entity stole, and since then he’s been forced into a leadership position that he never wanted, teaching every new survivor how to get through the trials, what to expect from every killer, every realm, every attack and weapon and mood the entity could be in– and he still can’t catch a God. Damn. Break.

He needs to piss. The entity decided that it would be a good idea– probably just entertaining, the sick fuck –to thrust him into a trial while he was walking off into the woods to pee. Hell, he’d even gotten his fly down when the mist enveloped him, forcing Dwight to zip himself up and get ready in an instant– and even worse, he was stationed there with you. And Jake, but that doesn’t matter. It’s not that he hates you, that’s definitely not the problem, it’s that he doesn’t. The last few months have been spent courting you, and the last few weeks working up the courage to ask you out, and now…this.

He’d hoped at first that maybe he’d be stuck with one of the slower killers– that would give him enough time to piss in peace while you distracted it, then get right back into the trial like nothing happened, get you both out of here, and be done with it until next time –but it was the fucking Xenomorph, so he couldn’t make a sound unless he wanted one of those weird tails through his midsection and a hook in his back. God, maybe that’d be better than embarrassing himself in front of you when his bladder gives out…

“Dwight!” You whisper yell, gesturing towards the generator you were both working on, snapping him out of his deprecating thoughts. He shot you an apologetic look, shoving his hand in the motor and fumbling with the inner mechanisms. He’s trying not to squirm– doesn’t want you to notice and ask questions –but he can’t help the way his thighs keep squeezing, or how his hands twitch with the want to hold himself.

“Sorry, sorry…” There’s a clang somewhere way too close, and both of you stop, trying to figure out just how close. Scraping, clicking, low growling echoes through the hall– and when you turn, it’s right there. Standing in the hallway, facing you like it knows you’re there even without eyes– creepy fucker. You can’t move, staring down this creature that will be the end of you both for the millionth time. One would think that at some point death would get less intimidating– less terrifying –but if it does, it hasn’t happened to you yet.

It crawls closer, stalking on all fours like the predator it is– waiting for you to run, waiting to chase.

“On my cue…” Dwight looks at you like you’re insane– there’s no way in hell you can outrun a fucking xenomorph. There’s no way he can outrun a xenomorph. Not with his bladder spasming painfully like it is.

But you don’t know that, so Dwight sucks it up– and when you tell him to run, he runs. You yank him to his feet, and the xenomorph goes in for a hit immediately, thrashing its tail in your direction, trying to stab something vital that will get one of you to the ground– but in a damn miracle, it misses. You have Dwight's hand in yours, sprinting down the hall with the killer shrieking somewhere behind you. Your only saving grace is that it’s blind– so if you can find somewhere to hide, maybe you can escape. Dwight doesn’t know if he can make it to the ‘escape’ part.

Whipping around a corner just in time for the tail to slash again, destroying a chunk of the wall and getting itself stuck in the wiring– miracle. It only buys you a couple seconds, but it’s enough to make some distance, and that’s really all you can ask for here.

“Here–” You whisper, running into an open door. It’s a struggle not to slam it shut on instinct, but you manage– barely. Not even a second later, the xeno rushes by, leftover debris raining down on the door, leaving small dents. You hear the monster stop outside the door, cursing the debris for doing the job of echolocating you. Dwight gasps, and you wrap your hand over his mouth on reflex, slowly backing up until you hit the wall. The xenomorph growls again, making the metal door wail when it drags its tail over the outside– Dwight takes it as the opportunity it is.

“I– I need to pee–” He whimpers, pulling your hand off his face for a second– before you promptly slap it back down. Admitting something so embarrassing in front of you of all people is utterly humiliating– he has half a mind to let the xenomorph kill him then and there. Dwight flushes, watching the way your eyes drift down to his crotch before flicking back up again.

“You–” Another echolocating screech startles you both, distracting Dwight just long enough for him to leak and whimper again, muffled behind your palm. His hands shoot down and grip his cock, squeezing in a desperate attempt to hold it just a little longer. It's easy to feel his body trembling from how he's pressed into your front– whether it's because of the effort it's taking not to piss himself or just because he's embarrassed –and you can't help but feel pity. Pity that makes you want to do something to help– pity that has you wanting to make him feel better in one way or another. He's going to piss himself anyway, that's obvious– the xenomorph doesn't sound like it's gonna leave its post any time soon. That thing is smart enough to wait people out– but it's not the most patient. If you can just wait a little longer without making any noise, you'll be in the clear– which, again, is where helping out Dwight comes into play.

You move so he can see your face and mouth ‘It’s ok’ while pulling his hands off his crotch– earning you a scared expression and Dwight's thighs squeezing hard around your hand. He can't believe this is happening to him– he's mortified. Beyond mortified. He's almost positive that if this actually happens then he's just gonna drop dead from the shame– have a heart attack from the stress and just die. God, what a stupid way to go during trial. ‘No guys, the xenomorph didn't get me, I just got so embarrassed that I went into cardiac arrest.’

Fuck

He can't hold it much longer– little droplets starting to build at his tip, cock twitching with desperation, bladder making his stomach bulge painfully –god he can't fucking hold it.

Dwight shakes his head at you hard and fast, his eyes getting wet with tears and a series of muffled whines vibrating against your hand. He can't do it– he's gonna piss himself– in front of the person he has a crush on. During a trial. This has to be hell– he probably died on that camping trip and everything since had just been hell. He must have done something awful, there's no other explanation for why he of all people has to go through…this. Christ, did he kill a person and forget? Was he mean to starving orphans? Did he kick a puppy?

Dwight’s hips buck and another leak escapes him when your hand rubs against his jeans, trying to spread his thighs, encouraging him to let go. You can feel as the spot his tip is pressed against gets damp, hips chasing that tiny bit of relief by unconsciously rutting against your palm, your other hand barely keeping him from being loud enough to be heard. He leans back into you, trying to support himself on knees that are getting progressively more wobbly.

You shouldn’t find this as attractive as you do. This should not be turning you on– especially when there’s a bloodthirsty monster a few feet away, waiting for you to slip up, waiting for confirmation you’re inside so it can break down the door.

But Dwight’s noises sound like moans– doesn’t matter if they’re moans of pain and desperation –and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a sucker for pathetic men.

You didn’t realize you were still rubbing him until Dwight’s hand was grabbing your wrist with bruising force, cock twitching all of three more times before you felt the wet spot get bigger. His head fell back onto your shoulder, swallowing visibly and letting go of a real moan, long and drawn out and muffled on your palm. His hips bucked erratically a few more times– turning into humping as he finally let go. The only sound aside from his pathetic mewls was hissing as Dwight's pants filled with piss, streaking down his leg until he (and your hand) was soaked– a puddle forming under his feet. It took a full minute before the stream stopped, shoes squelching when Dwight stood up straighter– and then the shame set in.

His face was bright red when he looked at you, tears rolling down his cheeks, lower lip wobbling while he tried to hold back any cries or sobs. You wanted to be able to comfort him– to tell him it was ok, that he was alright, you wouldn't tell anyone, that you're still friends. God, can you even still call yourself friends? This seems so much more intimate. –but you settled for taking your hand off his mouth and wiping his tears with it. He didn't stop crying, but the tears slowed down and Dwight was able to look you in the eye for a second. When he turned his head to the side and buried it in your neck, you realized you were still cupping his– now soaked –jean clad cock, still twitching against your hand. The only difference was that now, the twitching accompanied a rock hard erection rather than just a need to pee. It surprised you for a second, but…you realized it wasn't entirely unwelcome.

It was also then that you noticed you couldn't hear the xenomorph outside the door anymore. Not even it's low breathing. Had you really been so distracted with Dwight that you didn't hear it leave?

Apparently.

He wasn't saying anything to you, likely too mortified to form words, but he hadn't tried to move away or pull your hand off yet, so…maybe he wants to keep going? You're willing to take the risk. If he tries to get away or wants you to stop then you will, but he's so hard– it has to be painful. You get a firmer grip this time, grabbing the outline of his cock and giving a couple full strokes instead of the tentative rubs from before– to which Dwight's body responds instantly, hips snapping forth and a strained moan being forced from his lips. His face stays buried in the crook of your neck, warm breath starting to dampen the skin, lips brushing on the side of your throat. Carefully you unzip his fly, making sure to keep it as quiet as possible– just in case the xenomorph is still close enough by to hear –and gently pull Dwight's cock out. It's such an angry red, veins throbbing in time with every twitch, begging you to make him cum. His head looks nearly purple, and the piss soaking his skin makes the colors even shiner– precum mixing with the liquid and leaving his cock even slicker, dripping down your hand and onto the floor.

Dwight almost doubles over when you grab him directly, covering his own mouth and moaning loud– If it wasn't muffled it would have echoed through most of the wing, alerting the creature for the second time. You put your free hand over his in an attempt to muffle those pretty sounds further– a thought crossing the back of your mind that you should do this again when you're safe. And maybe when Dwight can look at you again.

Each stroke makes a lewd schlick noise, dripping onto the puddle of urine and creating an otherwise gross mixture of fluids that only serves to turn you on more in the moment. Dwight's shaking again, knees knocking into each other every time his legs threaten to give out– moaning into your palms like this is the best he's ever felt.

In his opinion, it might be. He doesn't think he's ever been this turned on before, the relief and shame from pissing himself somehow making his body– his cock –even more sensitive. He's not gonna last like this– he's gonna cum after having his dick stroked for 30 seconds, gonna embarrass himself for the second time in front of the person he's in love with. Fuck, but it feels so good– he can't stop making those noises, whimpering like a bitch in heat. Dwight’s eyes keep rolling into the back of his head, eyelids fluttering shut while he tries matching the pace of your fist– squelching getting louder and louder along with his moans –until he can't take it anymore.

Dwight cums with a muffled sob, splattering onto the ground and dissolving where it touches the other liquids. You keep stroking him through it until his hips start to pull away from the overstimulation, finally able to let him breathe freely. He clings to you, refusing to let go while he steadies himself and gets ready for the litany of emotions he's gonna feel later.

The trial can wait a few more minutes...

[brainr0t-landfill]

✸landfill navigation✸

✥A.N: always read tags, all my readers are filthy men unless stated otherwise

✥asks are tagged under: letters in the landfill

✥reblogs are tagged under: director's mail

✥blurbs are under: brain letter in the landfill

✥Landfill Contents: Dead by Daylight, Call of Duty (Modern Warfare)

✥masterlist:

✦ Cod ForceMasc Ideas: my horny ForceMasc ramblings, sometimes very dead dove

✦Mercurial:(unfinished, pending)

-explicitky malre reader, reader runs away they chase him, kinda mild

✦Compartment Syndrome:(one shot)✦

-you try to divorce John, he says nuh uh

✦T:(unfinished, pending, director's favourite)

-John kiddnaps reader and forcemascs him <3, reader has a name also

✦Sea Salt:(one shot)✦

-The Plauge character study

✦Push/Pull:(one shot)✦

-Gaz took you under his wing, he resents you more and more as he's once again side stepped for other people

✦Perversion:(one shot)

-Johnny and reader are both necrophiliac perverts, reader is a guy

✦Lemonade: (one shot)

-Johnny loves you but he loves Simon more, Simon also loves you, you hate them both,

(cheating+cheating, angst, contempt)

✦Coda:(one shot, director's favourite)

-Dwight thinks about his impending death as Ghostface and Legion spit roast him

✦Vinegar(one shot, angst)

-Ghost is sweet as honey, he makes you sick, gn! Reader

[rootsofdread]

I live for goofy moments with survivors mid serious matches tbh. Nuthin'better than throwing the game because some guy found a way to jump on the table!

Ace, Rebecca, Feng and Dwight with a usually ferocious killer, who's easily amused and/or distracted? They basically see red at all times, running and slashing and tearing everything apart.. untill people stop running away and start doing something unconventional for the place. They see a survivor behind the counter in the Dead Dawg Saloon? Yeah, no, it's not a hunt anymore, it's a bar night. Someone watches TV at Lery's memorial? That's their favourite thing to do now, too! And the carnival games.. Don't even get them started on carnival games. So it's mostly the matter of "who can entertain the said killer for the most time possible" instead of "who can outrun them" most times :)

🦞 uhavefuntoo

this was a fun one to write hehe!! fun fact i based the dwight one off of an experience i had in-game, i can't remember if i was playing dwight at the time but i had gone to pet maurice with two of my teammates and while we were petting him our killer, a nurse, came over and just watched us for a little bit, then left. IIRC, she massacred us, but it was funny X)

(i also tried to amuse a sadako in a similar way...i pretended to be watching one of her TVs, crouched in front of it, was pointing at it, and so she teleported through it, which got me to laugh. she also ended up killing me though lol)

Dwight Fairfield: 

For the most part, Dwight is so afraid of you that anything funny or distracting he might do is completely by accident. For example, when he was trying to hide from you on the grounds of Father Campbell’s Chapel. He ducked down by Maurice’s favorite tent, hiding slightly behind the horse hoping you wouldn’t see him. He began gently petting Maurice to calm himself down, because he swore he could feel something looming over his shoulder. The feeling kept nagging at him as he pet the animal…until he decided he should turn around, and saw you staring at him. But there was something different about your demeanor — you seemed to have calmed down. He was still petrified, of course. Especially when you moved closer and crouched down beside him. He almost bolted away, but you started petting Maurice with him. Confusing as it was, he decided…whatever keeps you from killing him. Maurice seemed happy, too.

Feng Min:

Feng has quite the penchant for messing with killers. Whether or not they ever enjoy it could be up for debate, but it doesn’t stop her from doing it, and she always has fun with you. Every time the two of you are running through the Dead Dawg Saloon, she’ll make some distance between you and her and dive behind the counter inside the saloon, and when you finally catch up to her, she pops up from behind it and announces she’s here to take your order. Seeing the immediate change in your demeanor amuses her to no end, when you suddenly stop and politely approach the counter. Typically, you two will end up playing barkeep for the rest of the match while Feng’s teammates finish generators and everything. Sometimes, other survivors will wander in and either be confused by the scene or decide to join in your games. Either way, Feng loves having fun with you like this.

Ace Visconti:

Of course, Ace is no stranger to testing his luck, especially when it comes to killers. He was testing wacky ways to lose you or direct your attention to something else long before he knew how easy it really was to distract you. He didn’t truly discover this until one day, when running from you around the carnival grounds of Father Campbell’s, he decided to stop at one of the booths. It was a milk jug ring toss game, he figured if he landed a shot, maybe it’d amuse you enough to leave him alone for now. To his surprise, you actually stopped your bloodthirsty rampage to watch him play the game, and you even took a turn after he’d thrown a few. He soon realized, after a couple rounds, was actually having fun with you. A killer…! If he would’ve known this was going to work, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

Rebecca Chambers:

Rebecca doesn’t tend to goof off during trials, not even with other survivors, especially not with a killer. Normally, she wouldn’t be particularly inclined to waste time either, but during a trial between the two of you inside Lery’s Memorial, as she was running from you she was quickly realizing she was running out of ways to keep you distracted. She noticed a television up the hallway, and as a last-ditch effort, sprinted towards it and called a time-out to watch TV together. She didn’t think it would work. But you actually stopped and lumbered towards the TV with your head cocked, and you stood next to her in front of the screen. She was still tense, but internally, she heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow, it had worked…she had gotten you to calm down and stop terrorizing everyone for a few minutes. In a way, it was nice, almost….

[sejmisland]

˗ˏˋ dating dwight fairfield would include. . . ´ˎ˗

warnings: none! gender neutral / no pronouns used for reader. feedback is always appreciated <3

anxiety. its no surprise dwight is an anxious person and if you are too then same boat, same hat! that anxiety is what makes him powerful though. in your time of need the leader comes through to calm you down and once you do, he calms down too. panic can spread and that’s not good for the team!

integrity. he feels like he cannot hide anything from you. if he fucks up, he will apologize even if he doesn’t see it at first and always keeps it in the back of his head to make himself better. consistency is key after all. you two simply move on in a consistent upward growth!

comfort. this matters a lot to dwight. he wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if he didn’t care for your comfort! he’s one of the best people to go to when you’re upset and he tailors it to you. whether its him having your arms around you as you cry into his shoulder or hearing you vent about what is on your mind, he will be there for you.

conversation. he’s awkward at first but when he gets used to you he just cannot seem to shut his mouth and its endearing. he rambles about anything really he likes, which can include you. its even better if you like to talk too because you two can go off into some really interesting conversations. he mentally notes things you like so he can ask questions later just to hear you talk more :)

yearning. dwight can be a little clingy and he yearns for you constantly. your voice, your eyes, your entire being. you are the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up and the last thing he thinks about when he goes to bed. you make it worth it for another day. 

affection. expect a lot of affection from him when he sees you. his eyes immediately light up and he cant help but immediately be drawn to you. its a tight, warm hug followed by a quiet “i’ve missed you” in your ear. he also likes to press kisses to your nose. he gets a little embarrassed about pda though. most he’ll do is hand holding or a small kiss to the cheek.

gentleness. he’s a very gentle person. he’s tender in a lot of ways; from the way he holds you to the way he looks at you. everything with him is soft and loving. it’s not that he thinks you’re fragile or anything, its just how he is and again: your comfort matters the most to him.

[morwap]

𝐃𝐖𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃

nav | m.list | m.list 2 | send a request!

♡ - smut REQUESTED BLURBS•DIALOGUE!

➸ nothing written for dwight yet! but i’m working on it check blurbs there might be something written or send a request!

[queendeeshorrorimagines]

I hope you're having a wonderful day! Since it's the spooky month I was wondering if you could do something with Wraith, Dwight, Jeff and Knight (if thats too many you can choose who you'd like) with a plus size S/O or crush and matching outfits (Like wraith and Nurse having the Phantom of Opera looking outfits)

Dee.exe has died of cuteness overload. 😁😁

Wraith, Dwight, Jeff, and Knight with a plus sized s/o wearing matching costumes to them:

Warnings: I know this it a bit later than Halloween but when you get my dbd boys involved, anytime is costume time when you don't care about what anyone thinks 😀

Gender neutral, Plus sized reader

Wraith | Philip Ojomo

Given the fact that he has a cosmetic based off of Phantom of the opera, it's not surprising to see his crush or significant other to be wearing an outfit that's also based off of the novel/ movie.

For the more feminine presenting significant other, I could see the Entity "gifting" them a similar gown of Christine Daaé's.

A quite beautiful white gown that perfect frames their body while being being comfortable to wear during trials.

Masculine wise, I could see either something similar to matching him or an suit that's inspired by the Era.

A rather handsome suit with ruffles on the button up (on the chest area) and loose, romantic sleeves that makes their body look elegant. The trousers are well tailored to fit comfortably, matching the whool overcoat.

Philip couldn't help but to stare at his significant other in awe. You looked ethereal as you walked through auto haven to see him in between trials. He most certainly loves the matching costumes that the two of you have.

Dwight Fairfield | Nervous Leader

The entity tends to give Dwight the more humor costumes and cosmetics like Dwelf, where's dwighty, and the Mummy Dwight. It could be the Entity mocking Dwight's nervous nature or using what it knows about Dwight's past to give him a false sense of hope of escaping.

Seeing how you're rather fond of Dwight, the entity decided to give you a costume of your own to match his.

The bandage wrapped around you gave a more sturdy costume than the toilet paper on Dwight's, more coverage as it was clinging to the neutral colors of the clothes you had on underneath.

Another potential costume that could match Dwight's mummy costume was the cliche vampire costume. The red and black cape draping over your suit/ dress as the fake fangs were hanging slightly from your mouth with a bit of fake blood.

When Dwight saw that you were dressed similarly to him, his face burnt with a blush as he could barely form a sentence because of how adorable you looked. He might be more protective over you, getting the killer to focus on him so that they wouldn't ruin how adorable you looked.

Jeff Johansen | Quiet Artist ❤️

I could go a couple routes for Jeff wearing more of a "costume" compared to his normal clothing. He does have a pirate costume, his death metal outfit, and his Greek mythology inspired costume.

I'm gonna go with the pirate costume. It confused you at first why the entity gave you an odd costume of a pirate.

I can imagine an costume that's similar to his. Matching leather coats with a similiar white undershirt as his. Your hair and skin had a soft smell of salt water with hints of rum that was spilled.

If you want to go more feminine presenting, a comfortable fitting white or red dress that's similar in fabric to the shirt Jeff wears with a large leather belt wrapped around your waist. The leather overcoat would still be the same to his, giving you an edge with the soft look.

Jeff couldn't help but to admire how the outfit made your body look. Although, he tends to not go for the pirate costume, he would start wearing it more to see if you noticed why the entity gave you the said costume.

The Knight | Tarhos Kovács

Tarhos wasn't a fan of his newest gift from the entity. He thought that

[theres-a-body-here]

Creep!reader: "I'm afraid I can't help you sheep"

Meg: "WHAT?!"

Creep!reader: "Something like that requires massive arcane power and mastery to be even be able to pierce through the fog. Also... the Entity may or may not have rather compromising photos of me and Ghostface, so I'd rather not get involved"

Dwight: "S-She may or may not have pictures of you two in full fursuits? Cuz I may or may not have been there"

Creep!reader: "Actually, we may or may not have been covered in baby oil"

Jake, sighing heavily: "Ugh...well I guess the Entity wins"

Élodie: "..."

Élodie: "can we see the pictur—"

Creep!reader: "Get the hell out of my realm"

[itsxcowboyrocksteady]

Roblogging because appropriate lol

A Kiss at Mid-Dwight

A Kiss at Mid-Dwight: A Dead by Daylight One Shot

Pairing: Dwight Fairfield x (GN) Reader

Contents: SFW, Fluff, Just something cute

Summary: Dwight heads over to your New Year's party hoping to find a way to tell you how he feels about you. Turns out, you have something in mind.

A/N: I've been really sad the past two weeks and I literally just wrote this right now while waiting for my teammates to get back from watching the ball drop at their respective parties. So I'm sorry if it's a little sloppy >.< And I promise I didn't forget the Claudette fic. I just needed to do something for Dwight right now. It's really short this time... And, no, I'm not sorry for the really bad pun lol

💗

Dwight fumbles with the buttons on his vest as though his hands won’t cooperate. He had to redo them twice already when he missed a button hole or two. Getting frustrated at his nerves, he takes a second to breathe and do it again.

Finally! he thinks as he fastens the last one and smooths it out with both hands. With a sigh, he takes one final look in the mirror, hoping he looks OK.

He doesn’t know why he’s this jittery about going to your New Year party. Or rather he knows, he just feels really silly for it. He likes you a lot. And he knows that an invitation to a party doesn’t mean anything, but he can’t help himself from hoping.

Since you asked him, he’s been thinking of all different scenarios of how he can tell you how he feels. He knows that it might not be the best timing to do it at a party with a bunch of your friends that he’s never met, but he still keeps fantasizing about wrapping you in his arms at midnight and kissing you.

It’s all he thinks about, even though he tries not to, on the way to your place. And his nerves find him again when he makes it to your door.

You open it, and he can tell that you’re genuinely excited that he showed up.

“You look so nice!” you tell him, idly touching the collar of his button up shirt.

“Thanks!” he says, a little too enthusiastically, before chuckling nervously. “Thank you. So do you,” he adds, at a much more reasonable volume.

He’s a little overwhelmed with how many people are there, people he doesn’t know. He had wanted to try to make friends with them, both because he thought it might be nice to have some people to hang out with and to show you that he could get along with them. Now he wasn’t so sure he had the nerve to talk to so many of them.

Dwight spends most of the party on his own, or idly being a part of conversations here and there. Feeling down on himself, he starts to wonder if it would have been better to stay home and ring in the New Year by himself as usual. But he’s startled when he feels someone grab his hand, and turns to see who it is. He gives you a big smile when he sees it’s you.

“Follow me,” you say, smiling back and leading him into the living room area where people have started to gather around the TV.

He’s confused that you take him to the back corner of the room, apart from the rest of your guests. But he has butterflies in his stomach that only intensify when he sees that it’s close to midnight.

But you turn to face him, not the TV, and you put your hands on his waist, looking him in the eye like you’re also a bit nervous. Like you also feel a fluttering in your stomach. And when he places his hands on your arms, he can’t help but notice that your hands fidget slightly for a moment. And he can’t help his heart leaping at the idea that maybe you were hoping he’d kiss you this whole time, too.

No, don’t get up your hopes, Dwight, he tells himself.

You spend the last ten seconds of the year like that, looking at and holding each other. And at midnight, it’s Dwight that makes the first move and softly presses his lips to yours. As is usual for him, he has a moment of fear that he maybe shouldn’t have done that, even as he’s still kissing you. But it all fades away when he feels your hand on the back of his head, fingers running through his hair, as you kiss him back passionately.

The room is full of people who you both forget are there. All that matters is each other. You are the only two people in the world in this moment.

When you finally do break away from each other, both looking at the other with dreamy eyes, it becomes clear just how much you were both hoping for this. How badly you wanted each other.

You smile at him and break the silence. “Happy New Year, Dwight.”

He smiles back, and says, “Happy New Year,” before pulling you close for another kiss.

[deadbydangit]

Hi uhm, I hope this ask is okay but could I get some soft fluff with Pyramid Head? Like maybe involving handholding and hugs and just Pyramid Head comforting y/n who had an awful day and has gone nonverbal because of it? If you need more info I can give u some, thank you in advance 🙏

Ohh, that's cute. I'm going to modify it a little bit so I have more to write and add a few more characters. I hope this is okay with you and you enjoy.

Comforting the Reader After a Bad Day

Pyramid Head, Dwight, Houndmaster

Pyramid Head

You looked rough.

He's not a master at sensing emotions, but he knows when someone's not doing well.

He can't tell you that you're looking rough.

Cause, you know, he has no mouth.

So his way of checking if you're okay goes as follows.

One: A tap on the shoulder.

Then he kind of cruises his head to the side.

It's something you have to look for, but it certainly there.

It's like this quizzical look.

Even without eyes or a mouth, he somehow conveys these feelings.

You just know.

Two: After a moment of silence he'll just kind of bring you in for this hug.

He won't expect anything in return, he's just holding you.

And, since he's more than likely taller than you, he'll put his other hand on your head.

Pyramid Head will be petting your head.

Not in a condescending way.

It's more of a, 'Let the problems of the world fade away for just a moment and let me comfort you'.

'If I can do nothing else, just let me be here for you.'

While he can't give you any advice, he'll certainly listen to you if you want to talk about it.

If not, no problem.

He's a master at making long silences comfortable and relaxing.

Never awkward.

Sometimes, if it's really bad, he'll take you to his favorite spot.

A random field in the middle of the realm.

Nothing but grass for miles.

Nothing but the peaceful sway of the wind against the blades of grass.

A quiet little paradise in the realm.

He really wishes he could do more.

With his anatomy being the way it is, he's very limited.

But it's his comforting hold, his love and gaze, his attention to you that really makes the biggest difference.

Dwight Fairfield

Bad day?

He knows.

How?

He's worn that look before.

Dwight is the master of bad days.

This poor man has the most insanely bad luck in every aspect of life.

So, yeah, he's been there and done that.

And, somehow, he's come out the other end of it.

Is he a better person because of it?

Maybe.

But he is a stronger person.

A more emotionally available person.

You'd think this nervous angel would be a stuttering mess when trying to comfort you.

But it's actually the complete opposite.

He's extremely confident in his skills when it comes to helping people who are at their worst.

Because he's been at those worsts.

Dwight had to go through all those bad days by himself. He's not going to let that happen to you.

If you don't want to talk about it, he's never going to force you.

But if you do, he's all ears.

He's a great listener, never butts in when there's silence, and always does his best to support you.

If you decide not to talk about it, Dwight won't hold it against you.

"Do you want a hug?"

He will be whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you cuddle.

And he always respects your boundaries.

If you don't want to cuddle, no big deal. He'll just sit by.

But, come on, you want the hug.

"You know, you're pretty amazing."

"I must be the luckiest guy in the world. To have someone as incredible as you sitting by my side? It's hard to believe."

"I know whatever you're going through must be tough. But I also know you're going to make it through it."

"You may get bruised and beat up along the way, but I'll be here to patch you up afterwards."

"I love you."

Houndmaster

Portia is not good with sappy emotions.

The only emotion in her mind, usually, is anger and revenge.

And unless you count sadistic happiness as an emotion, there's very little else.

When it comes to you, it's not much different.

One thing Portia is, is observant.

So when you come back without your usual spirit, your usual gusto.

She knows something is up.

You didn't even say hi to her!

At first, she might be a little put off.

Her first instinct is usually to be angry.

Angry at those who screwed her over, at those who killed her father, at those who were responsible for her torment, at the world.

But being angry at you?

That's something else entirely.

Snug, on the other hand, is much better at understanding emotions.

Dogs usually are.

So she'll send her trusted companion to comfort you first.

It's kind of hard to be upset when 100 lb of dog is kissing your face over and over.

After a few minutes Portia herself will arrive.

She'll sit down next to you, but she's not going to say anything.

She knows that anything she'll say is probably going to make things worse.

She might mumble something, maybe even try and crack a joke.

But, otherwise, she's completely silent.

You can talk about your problem, and she'll listen.

But she's not going to say anything about it.

Unless you're plotting to get revenge against somebody for something, she isn't going to be much help and she knows that.

Instead, she'll pull your head onto her shoulder and gently pat your head.

Almost like she's petting a dog.

"World is shit. It's better if we face it together."

Is it perfect?

No.

But is she trying her best despite her circumstances?

Despite the fact that she only knows how to be evil and ruthless?

Despite the fact that, for years, she hadn't known a shred of kindness?

Yes.

And she wouldn't do it for anyone but you.

[g0blintears]

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."

[tuffdwightwest]

Just curious what everyone likes. No X Reader on this list. Also added the ones that apparently are most popular on AO3.

If yours isn't listed. Write in comments. I'd love to hear about some rare pairs. Bonus points if you tell me why. (Even if it's cause you find both of them hot)