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eating-plastic · 9 months

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Away from the Campfire: Ace Visconti x fem!reader SMUT

Warnings: NSFW, smut (MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI), age gap (older man-younger woman. Reader is +18! Be gone creeps!), AFAB!reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex (life ain’t a fic, people! Wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering, slight praise, begging, daddy kink, lots of pet names (kiddo, angel, sweetheart, just to name a few), dom! Ace, sub!reader, shy!reader, inexperienced!reader, slow burn, swearing, all of the typical dbd warnings so violence, pain, angst, all that jazz, comfort, some fluff, probably some grammatical errors

Word Count: 6458 words

A/N: Whelp, here it is! My second oneshot and my first smut! If you knew me, you’d be surprised I waited this long to write something nsfw lol. I don’t know how this is gonna be received considering no one touched my Bill headcanons. I guess the dbd fandom just isn’t that big of fans of old men. Eh, it’s an acquired taste. I do just write these for myself anyway. Still, if anyone does find this, I hope you have a nice day! Remember to drink some water and take a break every now and again!

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You’ve always been a quiet person. Always keeping to yourself, not talking to many people, and honestly just fading into the background. Even now, being in an inescapable hell where you were forced to do the same task over and over again with someone or something trying to kill you, you never really befriended any of your fellow survivors outside of trials. At least in the beginning you didn’t.

No matter how one of your fellow survivors acted towards you around the campfire, they always tried to help you during trials as long as you were trying. In the beginning, there were a few survivors that even would “baby” you, whether it was because you were new to this realm, or the fact that you were one of the few younger survivors, or a combination of both. Still, as you got the hang of trying to survive in one of the many different environments you were thrown into during a trial and many began to stop keeping such a close eye on you, there was one that always kept you close.

To be honest, you were not the biggest fan of Ace when you first arrived to the Entity’s realm. You thought he was arrogant, egotistical, and willing to put his own survival over that of others. Anytime he would open his mouth in-between trials to tell tales about his life before “all of this”, you would try to ignore every word that came out of his mouth or even go for a walk. The walks were always preferable since you enjoyed walking by yourself before arriving in what you could only describe as hell. That was until you had your first trial with him.

As soon as the Yamaoka Estate came into view, you followed the same routine of looking for a generator to work on or a crate for supplies. While you rummaged around, a familiar voice came from behind you.

“Hey, there you are kiddo.”

You had rolled your eyes and closed the chest in frustration. Empty. Ace smirked at your annoyance before he walked up to you.

“Lemme help you with that,” he said, lifting the lid of the chest and moving his hand around in its dark interior. “Aha, there we go.”

He removed his hand to present a toolbox. Your eyes had widened in shock. You could’ve sworn the chest was empty! Ace once again smirked at your reaction.

“They don’t call me a lucky bastard for nothing. Here, take it. It’ll be more useful in your hands anyway,” he held the box towards you, and you hesitantly took it. You had then nodded in appreciation.

“Stick with me, kid. We’ll get through this easy.”

You hadn’t really wanted to follow Ace, once again worried that he was going to ditch you to save himself. Still, it was going to make repairing generators easier, especially with your toolkit. So you nodded and followed him.

-----------------------

“You really don’t talk much, huh kiddo,” Ace said while he worked on the last generator that needed to be repaired. You didn’t respond, just wanting to continue working on the task at hand. Besides, you never would respond when someone would ask a question like that.

“Heh, I stand corrected.”

After the generator was completed , Ace let out a noise of triumph and began to compliment you, until a scream had cut him off. You both had looked towards the sky and saw the Entity’s claws dragging one of your teammates upwards.

“Shit, I guess that’s our invitation to leave. Run towards the gate, kid. I’ll be right behind ya.”

You nodded, before you did as you were told.

-----------------------

As soon as you arrived at the gate, you had looked behind you but Ace was nowhere to be seen. You had opened your mouth to call out for him but stopped. You turned back to open the gate and stood in its entryway. The campfire called to you, telling you to just run and leave another one of many trials behind, but you couldn’t. Your eyes continued to scan your surroundings. You didn’t know how long you had waited for Ace before hesitantly backing up and turning to just run out of there.

When you arrived at the campfire, you began to feel guilt twisting in your gut. It was odd. Sure, you had originally not liked Ace but you weren’t a monster. No one at the campfire deserved what goes on during the trials. You took your seat away from everyone that was waiting around by the flickering firelight. After a few moments passed, the sound of footsteps added to the idle chatter of some of your fellow survivors.

“Whew! I am way too old to be running around like that,” Ace plopped himself down next to you, which causes you to tense up at first. That was until he had asked you a question.

“You got out, okay?” he asked, looking at you with concern. Huh, that’s new.

You nodded and you couldn’t help but let a small smile break out on your lips.

“Good. You did a nice job out there, kid,” he smiled and squeezed your shoulder, before getting up to “entertain” the rest of the survivors.

That was the first thing he did that told you how you had misjudged him.

-----------------------

The second time Ace had proved how much you misjudged him, was when he had rescued you from a hook.

Halfway through the trial, you had taken it upon yourself to loop the current killer, the trapper, in order to bid enough time for the last generator to be repaired and the gate to open. Unfortunately for you, your legs had begun to give out, providing him enough time to down you. At that point, you had already checked out. Your teammates were safe, and that was all that mattered. You didn't even feel the hook dive itself into your shoulder. Not really. You closed your eyes and waited for the sharp impale of the Entity’s tendrils into your body.

That pain never came, though. In fact, you had felt the sensation of your legs moving. You opened your eyes, confused. You could see the gate coming closer and you could hear a voice right by your ear.

“-most there. Come on, kiddo, keep moving.”

Wait, Ace? What was he still doing here? You thought everyone had left. You hoped that they all had left.

No time to think about that, though. You had to keep running. The next thing you knew, your exhaustion had lessened and the campfire was coming into view. You slowed your legs to a stop. Ace had let out a laugh of triumph.

“Ha! We made it! Shit! I mean-I knew we’d mak-!”

“You saved me?” your soft voice stopped the older man dead in his tracks.

“Well I’ll be damned. She speaks,” he quipped. You cocked your head to the side, waiting for an answer.

“Come on, kid. You didn’t think I was gonna leave you behind, did you?”

You just shrugged. You would’ve been fine if your teammates left you. You did your part to keep them safe, after all.

“Just don’t do that again, kay? I nearly had a heart attack trying to find you.”

You had opened your mouth to say something, but Ace was already at the campfire talking with the others. This caused you to huff in frustration. You had wanted to keep talking to him, but not with everyone else around.

Oh well. You were going to get your chances soon.

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You were sitting by the shore of a lake. The campfire had many walking trails around it, and the one you had taken led you here. It was nice. You wanted to be alone at the moment, away from the firelight and prying eyes of others.

When you had first been murdered by one of the killers, a move that the others called “mori”, you were surprised. No one warned you about that. Apparently it was a bit of a rarity. Still, some of them weren’t that bad. At least, when compared to being sacrificed to the Entity. That was until you were “moried” by the onryo. Who could blame you for being shaken up afterwards? You had your limbs painfully broken and you were left to slowly die. When you walked by the campfire to be alone, all of the survivors still acted the same as always. Did they act the same way after going through something so agonizing? Were you just acting like a baby? You didn’t know. All you knew was that you felt like your limbs didn’t belong to you. You could still feel the phantom sensations of them being broken, but when you looked down they were normal.

You couldn’t get it out of your mind. The sound of the crickets and the tide of the lake couldn’t help. You had soon felt tears welling up in your eyes and your body began to shake. You curled yourself up into a ball and began to sob. It felt like utter hopelessness was slowly crushing your body, slowly constricting your chest like a large python. You began to regret not sticking by the campfire. Would it have made you feel better? Would the conversations have been better?

The sound of crushing leaves caused your sobs to get caught in your throat. Your lip quivered as you tried to stop crying. You didn’t want to look so childish in front of one of your fellow survivors, hence why you walked off to be alone as you figured you were going to cry.

“That you, kid?” a voice called before walking towards you. You hid your face in your knees and took deep breaths to try and stop sobbing. You even took your bottom lip in-between your teeth and bit down hard to try and stop its shaking.

Ace took a seat right next to your shaking form. Slowly, he brought his hand to your back and began to rub circles into it. If you were to have told yourself when you first arrived that you and Ace would become unlikely...”friends”, if that was the right word, you would’ve thought you were completely insane. That didn’t matter, though. You were happy he was here and you showed it by leaning into him.

“I, uh...I heard what happened,” he began. Ace really did try so damn hard to think of what to say to you. He has never had to deal with something like this before, but he didn’t want to fuck it all up and say the wrong thing. He liked you, although he wasn’t sure just how much yet. Ever since he heard about you and your quiet, timid nature, he wanted to protect you when he could. Did it seem out of character for him, sure, but he didn’t give a shit. Especially since he had managed to get you to at least speak a couple of sentences to him.

“Look...I’m sorry you went through that...you can continue to cry if you want to,” you moved your head to look at him with your puffy, red, eyes. At the sight of your broken face, Ace stopped rubbing your back to wrap his arm around your shoulder to pull you close to him. With that, you continued to cry until you couldn’t anymore.

With all of your tears shed and all you were able to do was sniffle from time to time, you and Ace just sat there together in silence. That was until a thought entered the older man’s head.

“Hey, you wanna know what this reminds me of?” he asked. You looked up at him and cocked your head to the side, your silent way of saying “what?”.

“There was this one time I had to lie low for a bit. I had, uh, rented an RV and was on a lake just like this. It’s...it’s interesting just how quiet it all is, you know. I didn’t appreciate it at the time. I just wanted to get back into the game as soon as I could...but, it really is nice.”

You nodded at his words and rubbed your arm. Slowly, your limbs started to feel like they belonged to you again.

“I also befriended a raccoon, too.”

You pulled away from Ace to look at him confused, and he laughed at your reaction.

“I was sitting just like where I am now, when...,” he trails off and spinned you this tale that you were pretty sure was 90% fake, but that didn’t matter. You could tell he was trying to cheer you up, and it worked. By the time the tale had concluded, you had a large smile on your face and Ace had even managed to pull a few giggles from you. You both soon found yourselves sitting in silence once more, but this time it was comforting and all thoughts about the previous trial had been pushed to the back of your mind.

“Whelp kiddo, what do ya say we start heading back? Everyone’s probably worrying about us,” Ace stood up and offered you his hand. You took it, but decided to do something unexpected when he pulled you up.

You hugged him.

You threw your arms around him, and hugged him.

“Thank you,” you quietly murmured into his chest. Ace slowly moved his arms to wrap them around you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hug you, but at the moment he was trying to understand the odd feeling swirling in his chest.

“Yeah, uh...don’t mention it,” he said. God, why was his chest feeling so weird. You pulled away and smiled up at him and that was the moment that he connected the dots. “Uh...you go on ahead, kiddo. I’ll...I’ll catch up.”

You looked at him confused, but you had just assumed that he wanted to reminisce about his old life. You didn’t blame him, so you just nodded and turned to walk back to the campfire.

As soon as you were out of sight, Ace sat back down in front of the lake once more. He pulled his sunglasses from his face to rub it.

Love. He was in love with you. Had he felt that way for you all this time? He certainly didn’t know. Especially since he had never been in love with anyone before. He let out a deep breath before muttering the only phrase he could think of after this revelation.

“Fuck.”

-------------------------

“Hey Ace, you awake in there or what?” Ash shook his friend after he didn’t respond to his question. Ace quickly put on a mask that resembled his usual smug self.

“Yeah, I’m just in awe that you can even come up with a question,” he smirked.

“Oh ha ha, fuck you. I asked you why you’re being so quiet? You’ve been hanging out with Y/N too much, she’s starting to rub off on you,” Ash quipped, but he was actually a bit wrong. Ace had been avoiding you a bit. He still looked out for you during trials, but he had found himself sitting near the lake more often. He really didn't know what to do after he discovered that he was in love with you. How could he? First of all, he didn’t even know how to tell you. He’s hardly ever had to tell someone that he loved them. For the most part, Ace would’ve always just said it when he wanted something. He had usually never loved them. The second thing was how you would respond. Ace had no problems flirting with men and women alike and had no problems when someone would get disgusted by his action or even slap him, but this was different. Those were all men and women that he was never going to see again or care about, so it didn’t matter. You were someone he liked to be around, someone he cared about, and he did not want you to think of him as a “disgusting old pervert” or something.

“Yep, I lost you again. You know it’s getting boring entertaining the guests by myself,” Ash joked before he got up and made his way to where a large group of survivors were hanging out, listening to Kate as she plucked away at her guitar strings.

Ace sighed before he got up and made his way towards the lake like always. He had to figure something out, especially since Ash had started to notice. And if Ash could notice that something was off, then everyone else probably could too. He was letting the cocky mask of his slip too much. It would only be a matter of time before you-

“Um, Ace?”

God damnit.

Your slow footsteps approached him. He was right, you had noticed a change in him. And so you followed him to the lake, wanting to be a good friend and try to know what was wrong even if you didn’t know what to say.

“What can I do for ya, sweetheart?” like with Ash, the mask went up. Ace had been experimenting a bit. Testing out different pet names with you. It was his way of dipping his toes in the water. To see if you would get uncomfortable with his light flirting. So far, you hadn’t shown any signs of discomfort.

“I, um...I hope you don’t mind but...I overheard you and Ash. I guess I just saw it as...I mean...I just want to see if you’re okay that’s all...,” you glanced down at your feet. Well that could’ve gone better.

“Psh, what? Me? When am I not okay?” he smirked at you, but you clearly weren’t buying his words. “Aw, come on angel, don’t worry about me so much. Shouldn’t you be worried about your pretty, little self?”

Your face began to heat up. You loved his compliments and pet names. Well, when he had first called you “sweetheart” it had made you tense up a bit, but now they made your heart flutter. You didn’t have many experiences with men, but you’ve never met a man who was charming and made you feel as Ace did. Especially one as old as him. It was odd, but you were certainly not going to tell him. Not just because you would be mortified if you had to, but also because after all your time with Ace, there was a sliver in your mind that told you not to trust him. You could picture a situation in which you built up the courage to tell him that you were falling for him, only to get laughed at and told that he just felt bad for you. A quiet, childish, little coward that cries after experiencing something all of the other survivors were seasoned to.

“Hey now, what’s that look, beautiful?” Ace closed the distance between you and him after seeing your face drop. “I don’t mind you worrying about lil’ ol’ me. It’s kinda cute.”

You shook your head. You felt a nauseating combination of wanting to cry and be sick. Jeez, you got way too lost into your own head. Ace took a deep breath before he raised his hand to your face to gently stroke it.

“Hey...hey Y/N, it’s okay. Come on, what’s wrong?” you just lowered your head. Was this a joke? Was it always a joke? Saving you, risking his skin for you, comforting you, calling you all sorts of sweet names, this? Was it all just pity? Ace just continued stroking your cheek and looking at your sorrowful face, thinking hard about what he wanted to say. “Hey, how ‘bout this: you tell me what’s wrong and...I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me, huh?”

You fiddled with your fingers and drew a shaky breath.

“Is this a joke?” you asked, finally raising your watery eyes to look at him. You tried to stay strong.

“What are you talking about,” he moved his hand to brush some of your hair out of your face but you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Is it all a joke? The names, the comfort, the...the affection...is it all just one big joke...? Ace...is it all just you feeling bad for me?”

“I...what makes you think that?” was someone telling you this? How could you think that him testing the waters of your unlikely friendship, trying to see if he really could actually make it a meaningful relationship, as him just playing a joke on you? Was it because of him telling you his history? Someone else who didn’t like him just trying to look out for you? Was it the realm slowly breaking you?

“I...I just want to know...”you said, not breaking the gaze you had with Ace. You figured that if you could be strong during a trial, then you could be strong during this.

“You’re...you’re really gonna make me rip the band-aid off, huh?”

Here it comes, you thought. He doesn’t love me. He never could’ve loved me. I’m just an idiot-

“You know that I’ve been trying to tell you that I love you, right?”

Wait, what?

“You know that’s why I’ve been avoiding you? Why I’ve been hurling pet name after pet name at you?”

You tried to speak, but all you could get out were stuttered phrases.

“When I found you here, shaken up by that bad trial, that's when I realized it...and ever since then I’ve wanted to tell you that I love you but I didn’t know how to get it out and I was worried you’d think that I was a gross perv or something...so there. That’s why I care about you so much. That’s why I’ve been trying to be there for you but avoid you at the same time. I don’t know why you think that I don’t actually care about you, or who told you, but stop believing it, okay. Because I love you, Y/N. Okay? I love you so Goddamn much.”

You just continued to stare at Ace. You truly couldn’t believe it. Your eyes had long since dried. Was this real?

“Really?” your soft voice broke the silence.

“Do I need to prove it? Because I’ll prove it.”

“Wha-no no, I...I jus-”

“Nope! I need to prove it, so I will. Come here, angel,” not one to be serious for too long, Ace pulled you into his arms and even managed to lift your feet off of the ground. You squealed and even began to giggle as he tried to spin you.

“Okay! O-Okay...I get it,” you said in-between your laughing fit.

Once Ace put your feet back on the ground, he tilted your face to look at him.

“So, what do ya say, beautiful? You, uh...you wanna try this out?”

You smiled and nodded, eagerly.

You didn’t even think about how the others would think about the relationship. How some of them would flash you two odd or even disgusted looks because of the age difference or how comfortable Ace quickly proved to be with PDA, but that didn’t matter. You would quickly find that his confidence and silver tongue would be enough to drown out those looks or comments.

-----------------------

“Now, what are you smiling about, sweetheart?” Ace says while approaching you. You glance up at him and shrug.

This lake now had so much meaning to the both of you that it was hard to not smile when you were near it. Not only that, but it has become your own private love nest with him.

Ace sits down next to you and pulls you close to him, causing you to rest your head on his shoulder. He then removes his sunglasses and puts them in his jacket pocket. You always enjoyed when he would remove them. You truly couldn’t get enough of his dark eyes.

“It’s been a pretty easy day,” he remarks, referring to the lack of trials performed. “I hope we get more of them.”

“You don’t think that’s jinxing it?” you ask.

“When have I ever been a jinx?”

Well, he had you there. You had to agree, though. The lack of trials was welcomed, and you wanted more of them. You just shrug and smile at him. Ace smiles back at you and glances down to your lips.

“God damn, angel,” he raises his hand up to tilt your chin up to him. “You look beautiful in the moonlight.”

It didn’t matter that this was the nth compliment he’s ever given you. It still made you feel sheepish and small in his arms, but in a good way. Your body begins to feel warm as he leans forwards to kiss you. You melt and kiss him back.

You get lost in the kiss, even as you feel his hand move from your face to your waist. You quickly tense up though, when you feel the hand move upwards under your shirt. Upon feeling your body going rigid, Ace pulls away to inspect your face. He swiftly removes his hand when he sees a bit of nervousness in your eyes.

“Sorry,” he mutters while trying to move away, but your hand on his stops him.

“It...it’s fine. I-I want...,” you look away. You do want this, it’s just that such intimacy always made you a bit skittish. You’ve had very little relationships before, well, here, and even though you’ve had sex while in these relationships, you were always apprehensive the first time. There is a lot of trust that goes into it, and you always fear about that trust being broken. Not to mention the fact that the idea of trying to initiate sex made you feel embarrassed.

“Do you want me to continue?” Ace asks. He moves his hand back to your face to stroke your cheek. You melt at the feeling.

“Yes,” you breathe out. He nods before moving closer to you and resuming the kiss. His hand also goes back under your shirt.

The feeling makes you sigh, which gives Ace the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. As soon as it begins to dance with yours, you feel a familiar warmth spread in-between your legs, and you squeeze your thighs together in order to try and relieve it.

Next, you move your hands to remove Ace’s hat and run your fingers through his hair. His hands work to hold you close to him and to grope your body underneath your clothes. Soon, he moves his hand to one of your breasts, squeezing it before moving under your bra to play with it properly.

He then breaks the kiss with you, and moves his lips from yours to your jaw, and then your neck. The feeling of his facial hair scratching your neck makes you squirm and deepen your breathing.

Both of his hands are under your shirt and your bra now, groping both of your breasts and rolling your nipples in-between his fingers. the feeling causes you to pant and whine. You need to relieve the desire of having some sort of friction against your clothed, wet pussy. You move to try and straddle Ace, thinking that he was too distracted with sucking the most sensitive part of your neck, but you get pushed down to the ground and he moves to hover over you.

“Aw, what’s wrong angel?” he smirks. You are now unable to even rub your thighs together as his legs are now preventing yours from closing. You let out a needy whine, hoping he’d take the hint. “Ah, use your words sweetheart.”

“A-Ace...please...,” you whimper. Shame begins to eat away at you, preventing your desires to be voiced.

“Please, what? Come on babydoll, tell daddy what you want,” you feel your pussy clench around nothing at that. You have to swallow your shame to get what you want.

“Please...touch me, please,” your face feels like it’s on fire. Lucky, Ace decides to have mercy on you. He moves his hands from your shoulders to your shorts, undoing them.

“There, that wasn’t too hard now, was it?” he smirks. As soon as your shorts are undone, you lift your hips up enough for him to pull them off along with your panties. You let out a squeak at the cool air hitting your sex, but still can’t close your legs thanks to Ace’s.

He slowly moves one of his hands down your body towards the place you need it most. Unfortunately for you, it seems he wants to tease you even more, moving his hand from your lower abdomen to your thigh, and then squeezing it. Just as you are about to let out a frustrated huff, you gasp as Ace moves his hand from your thigh to run his fingers through your wet folds.

“God damn, you’re soaked. This all because of me, beautiful?” he taunts. All you can do is nod. You bite your lower lip to keep moaning too loud, especially as he begins stroking your clit.

“Aw, come on, doll. Don’t you hide your pretty little voice from me,” he moves his head back to your neck. “Come on, let daddy hear you.”

With that, he continues to suck onto the same spot on your neck he was sucking on before. This drags a shaky moan from your lips, which causes him to hum in satisfaction.

After rubbing your clit and soaking his fingers in your slick, Ace decides to push one of his fingers inside of you. Your poor little clit didn’t get a break from his abuse, though, continuing to stroke it with his thumb, now.

You continue to moan at his ministrations of your body. The world of the Entity made it easy to forget that pleasure exists, but God was Ace helping you remember. Especially as he pushes another finger into your tight hole, scissoring them to help stretch you out.

It was all starting to be too much. Your cries grow in volume as you feel the familiar sensation like a coil tightening in your stomach. You try to form a coherent sentence to tell Ace about your approaching orgasm, but all that gets out is his name and your whimpers.

“You gonna cum, angel? Huh? You wanna cum all over my fingers?” you nod desperately as a response, causing him to chuckle. “Go on, babydoll. Go ahead, I’ll be nice.”

You continue to cry out, your moans building up and your toes beginning to curl. You throw your hands onto Ace’s shoulders in a frenzied attempt to find something to cling to, bracing yourself. That coil insides you gets tighter and tighter, until it finally snaps and you scream out in pleasure. Ace continues to stroke your clit and coo at you, working you through your orgasm.

Once you come down from your high, he pulls his fingers from your pussy to inspect them. They are completely drenched in your slick, even beginning to drip down to his palm. He smirks, before bringing his hand to his mouth, licking and sucking your juices from it, even moaning a bit as he does it. His actions make you squirm. You just came, and yet you’re getting turned on all over again.

“Damn sweetheart, you taste amazing,” Ace groans out, before getting an idea. “Here, you wanna try?”

He brings his hand close to your mouth, holding it out so you can see slick drip down the back of his hand. It felt like you weren’t even in control of your body as you lean up and drag your tongue upwards, lapping up whatever bit of your juices you could, a complete puppet to lust. A dragged out “fuck” left Ace’s lips at he watches you, wanting that little tongue of yours elsewhere. An event for another time.

After cleaning his hand, he moves them to his belt, undoing and pulling it free from his pants. The sight hypnotizes you and causes you to roll your bottom lip in-between your teeth. To Ace, you looked absolutely adorable. You look all fucked out and he hasn’t even put his cock in you, yet.

As soon as he gets his pants undone, he pulls them down enough for his hard length to spring out. He hisses just as you did from the cool air hitting his dick. He clears his throat and begins stroking it slowly, making sure your eyes are on him. Of course they were, you are mesmerized by his hand slowly jerking himself off, even letting out a needy whine. You needed him inside of you, now.

“You need something, babydoll?” Ace teases. Of course he wanted you to beg for it.

“F-Fuck...Ace...fuck me, please...,” you manage to get out in-between pants.

“Aw, okay. Since you asked so nicely,” he brings his cock to your drenched lips and strokes it in-between them, lubing it up with your slick.

You cry from your still sensitive pussy being touched and from the tip of his dick catching your entrance.

As soon as he felt that he was lubed up enough, Ace takes his length into his hand and lines it up to your wet little hole. Before pushing in though, he says your name, causing you to look up at him.

“If it hurts too much, you’ll tell me, right? I promise I’ll stop,” his voice was now serious, wanting you to understand what he was saying. You look up at him and nod.

“I will.”

With that, Ace gently pushes the tip of his cock into your pussy and your hands go back to his shoulders as before. He pushes in a bit more until you cry out in pain, stopping the older man in his tracks.

“Shit, you need me to stop?”

You nod, tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes.

“Okay...okay. Just relax Y/N, I got you,” he moves his head to the crook of your neck to place kisses on every bit of skin he can get to, while one of his hands finds one of your breasts once more, this time dragging your shirt with it.

You take deep breaths, trying to relax your body and focus on Ace’s kisses and touch. As soon as the pain begins to subside, you tug on his arm.

“Ace...you c-can move now,” you pant.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Ace looks at your face to make sure you were ready, before continuing to push his dick all the way inside of you. As soon as his hips connect with yours, he stops to check on you.

You whine at the feeling of being so full, a feeling you haven’t felt in a while. You look into Ace’s eyes and shakily tell him to resume.

He nods down at you, adjusting himself on his forearms and beginning to shallowly thrust into you. You rest your head on the dead grass underneath it and let out a breathy moan from the sensation. Seeing that you were clearly okay, Ace’s demeanor returns to the same teasing one he had before.

“Fuck, you feel so good, angel. Mm, taking daddy’s cock so well.”

His words only add to the intoxicating feeling of his dick thrusting into you. It’s addicting, and you want more of it.

“Ah...ha-ah! Ace...m-more, please!” if you were to listen to your voice back, you wouldn’t believe that it was you. Shy and quiet you who always loved to fade into the background, now moaning loudly on an older man’s cock.

“Ha...yeah? You want more? Huh? My babydoll wants more?”

You nod and moan out a desperate “please”. Ace grants you your wish, not only thrusting into your pussy harder, but faster too. God, he wants everything about this burned into his memory, not just the way you feel, but how you look too. Your eyebrows knitted together, eyes closed, and lips parted, letting out loud, needy moans. Oh yeah, he wants to have your noises burned into his mind as well.

While continuing to thrust into you, he moves one of his hands down to your clit, stroking it with his thumb once more. You cry out at the added pleasure and arch your back upwards towards him, hands tightening on his shoulders and your hole tightening around his dick. That coil in your stomach had returned, and the tension in your gut was now growing from each thrust and stroke Ace was delivering to your body. Fuck, you definitely weren’t going to last much longer.

“Oh...mm-fuck! A-Ace-ha! Ah...‘m close!” you sob as white, hot pleasure flows through your veins.

“Yeah? Yo-you wanna cum, huh? Go on, then-fuck! Cum all over daddy’s cock, angel,” he moans out, clearly getting closer to cumming himself according to his groans and thrusts becoming sloppy.

Your toes begin to curl and tears of pleasure start to flow down your cheeks. Your moans become screams and your vision goes white as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. Ace lets out a strangled “fuck” as you squeeze his dick, slowing his thrusts but not his assault on your clit, working you through your high as he did when he was fingering you.

You really didn’t want to come down from your high, especially when Ace started thrusting into you again, chasing his own orgasm. He only slows himself when he feels his cock twitch inside of you.

“Oh f-fuck...where-mm!” he struggles to get out, but you understand what he’s asking.

“I-In-oh God, Ace! In!”

With that, you feel a warmth beginning to fill you as he moaned loudly, cumming deep inside of you. After that, he buries his face into your neck, the only sounds now being that of crickets, the lake, and both of your pants. You both feel exhausted but blissed out of your minds.

Eventually, Ace pulls out of you and rolls onto his back besides you. Fuck, that was amazing. Not only because he hasn’t had sex in a while because of, well, you know, but also because it was sex that wasn’t for the purpose of just scratching an itch. No, what you two just did was miles better.

He turns his head to look at you. Your eyes are closed and your breathing is slowly going back to normal. He smiles at your sleepy expression and rolls onto his side to pull you to his chest. You let out a tired hum and nuzzle your face into Ace, while he rubs your back and holds you close.

“Rest up, beautiful. You deserve it.”

#dead by daylight #dbd #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader #ace visconti #ace visconti x fem!reader #ace visconti x reader #x reader #rita writes

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vmartist · 10 months

Text

Dbd Male Survivors first impressions bf headcanons:

___________________

Dwight Fairfield

He’s very cautious, but still eager to greet you since you’re new to the fog

Immediately introduces you to everyone so you’re all on the same page

He’s intrigued about your background and begins asking you questions about anything and everything to get to know you(seems like more of an interview than light banter but you don’t mind)

Your first trial is with him and he quickly assumes a leading position and shows you the ropes

Extremely patient with you(which you appreciate)

No matter what he was very encouraging

Slowly but surely he felt himself developing a small crush for you

____________________

Jake Park

Jake didn’t immediately warm up to you, he’s just a wary person by nature

And he wasn’t malicious by any means, just kept his distance

But after the sight of you being startled by a crow he knew he had to intervene

When he finally got the chance to see you in a trial he sought you out

He was leaning behind a brick wall as he waved you over, you were a bit concerned but followed him anyway

You both took a stroll before reaching an area near a crow

“They can be a little frantic but if you can compose yourself than they won’t fly away”

You nod and follow his lead

He grabs your hands and outstretches them towards the crow

The crow quirks it’s head at you both, looking to Jake and then you before hopping into your palms

“See, you’re a natural”

Jake finds himself smiling at the sight, he’s swooning alright

And when you turn to him with the biggest smile on your face, he falls even harder

____________________

Ace Visconti

Since you’re the newbie he’s always gifting you items in chests whenever he’s in a trial with you

It’s warms his heart to see how appreciative you are

You’re amazed how how he always seems to find the greatest things

Whenever you ask how, he always dodges by hitting you with a cheesy flirtatious line that always makes you roll your eyes

“Hey, wanna see a cool party trick?”

You quirk a brow at him as he grins

He starts taunting the killer and after a long chase gets caught and hooked

You run for the unhook and when you arrive he’s got this cocky grin plastered on his face

“Prepare to be amazed…” he mumbles

He begins to attempt to unhook himself to which he ends up hurting himself twice

You start to reach out but he begins to attempt again and actually pulls himself off

He leaps into your arms, tackling you both into the ground

“Amazed?”

You frown at him and start stitching up his wound while scolding him for being reckless

He finds you incredibly attractive for being this concerned for his wellbeing

____________________

David King

Despite you being new, he doesn’t immediately put himself in harms way for you

You need to prove yourself worthy enough to be protected

Once you start pulling your own weight during trials he takes notice

Something unexpected happened in one trial however, you protected him when he was on death hook

He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment but he didn’t dislike it

Just when he thought his time was up, you appeared with a flashlight in hand and got your first successful flashlight save

You both rushed to the exit gates but before you could make it out, you took a down for David

He didn’t want to leave you behind but was pushed out by the killer

When you returned to the campfire he gave you a pat on the back and applauded you for your bravery

“Cheeky bastard…puttin’ yerself in arms way fer me…”

Now he’s definitely got a soft spot for you

____________________

Adam Francis

Adam’s very quiet on the outside but has a lot going on inside

At first he watches how you do tasks, not really saying anything which makes you nervous

He’s very hands on with his teaching methods

While working on a generator together he grabs your hands and adjusts them

“If you keep your hands down like this, you won’t burn yourself with the wire”

Your lips form an ‘O’ shape as you find yourself in a groove

His heart warms at seeing you learn from him and he doesn’t stop after that

He’s always teaching you something new, which you appreciate

That’s not all, he also makes diversions to keep you out of harms way

He’s got his pockets stuffed with pebbles just for you, what a sweetheart

____________________

Jeff Johansen

Jeff typically liked to keep to himself, unless he was around someone with similar interests to him

Kate for example, literally best friends

They could talk about music for hours

While on one of these music excursions, you joined in

The three of you all had an amazing and engaging conversation that everyone enjoyed, even outsiders

Seeing how passionate you were about your music taste made Jeff kinda interested in you

Once while he was carving some art into a distant log you joined him and asked questions about his art

This dude is such a softie for people interested in his art, especially when they ask questions

He’ll go in depth about his processes and you’ll just listen intently

He realizes how long he was talking for and turns red

“Sorry for talking so much…I’m sure you didn’t wanna hear that much…”

You assure him that you didn’t mind

And just like that, he melts like putty

____________________

Felix Richter

Felix is a quiet yet intense person, whether in or out of a trial

But most of the time, he’s introverted like most of the other male survivors

He didn’t really think much of you at first, noticing how much you struggled

But he chose to help where could

Oh you used up that medkit you spend your precious bloodpoints on? Built to last now

You remember him doing it the first time, when you complained about how you used everything in the medkit

“Can I see? I’ll bring it back in a sec…”

You reluctantly handed it to him and watched him scurry off to the nearest locker before coming back to you and opening it like a briefcase

“Almost good as new”

You grab it in awe with your mouth slightly agape “H-How did you do that?”

He just shrugs with a smile

Once on Léry’s Memorial Institute he watched you walk around in circles trying to find a generator

You groaned in frustration “I’m so close to giving up”

He hears you and gets off his generator to come help you

“Follow me”

You perk up and follow suit instantly

You both work together before you asked him how he finds generators

“In my spare time I make floor plans of each realm and log every generator location”

“Wow that’s amazing Felix!”

He was used to receiving praise like this before he came to the fog and even now but it felt somehow different when you said it

He could feel his heart beat in his chest whenever he was around you, and no the killer didn’t have dark devotion…

____________________

Jonah Vasquez

Jonah is an amazing teammate and quick to help you when he sees you

He’ll guide your hands to the correct motions so you don’t mess up but notices your looking more at him

“Hey pay attention…” he mutters before looking away

Out of trials Jonah kept to himself, if not then he was seen with Adam having some sort of academic conversation

Whenever you joined him he was very appreciative and never let it go unsaid

“You should come by with Adam and I some more!”

He loves positive affirmations especially from you, he melts like putty whenever you praise him

____________________

Vittorio Toscano

He was very unsure how to approach everyone else, including you considering you all were from different time periods

But he had ways of showing his consideration such as;transferring gen progress to help you finish a gen, telling you where the killer was, and even providing moral support while being chased

He enjoyed your calm demeanor, it was refreshing from the chaos but when you freaked out he didn’t mind leveling you out

“Don’t worry, think about how peaceful it will be when we escape, I know you can do it.”

You both talked whenever out of trials, he always had something to teach you about the fog

He also liked talking about his life before the fog and he enjoyed hearing about your life before the fog

He also had some poetry that he would read to you(although he would never admit you were his muse)

____________________

Since mobile Tumblr only allows 10 images I’ll post Renato and Gabriel another time, I’ve already got both written down I’ve just gotta paste it and post. But anyway I hope you enjoyed these!!

#dead by deadlight #mlm #first impressions #male reader #jake park #dbd dwight #felix richter #david king #adam francis #ace visconti #vittorio toscano #jonah vasquez #jeff johansen #male x male

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clairdelunelove · 10 months

Text

A Light in the Fog Pt.I

dwight x reader, jake x reader, ace x reader, leon x reader, dbd survivor x reader

genre: fluff/comfort, based on gameplay!

warnings: cursing, brief mentions of injury (what's expected in dbd)

synopsis: a collection of various dead by daylight men and sweet, heartwarming interactions you have with them during Trials!

a.n. this isn't the usual programming but I figured to share just in case I have fellow dbd simps out there! also pls lmk if you play!! I need more friends that play dbd 🥺

dwight fairfield

aka: nervous leader

there it is again

the materialization of your incessant, solid heartbeat that felt like your rib cage was going to crack open whenever the killer was close

serving as an ominous warning for what was about to come next

the generator blows up beneath your imprecise fingers and a curse tumbles out of your mouth before you can consider better of it

and the crude expletive startles dwight

“sorry,” you hastily apologize before continuing to work alongside him, “just sounds like they’re close to us.”

dwight, however, maintains his swiftness while tugging the colorful wires within the generator, “you don’t need to apologize. just try to keep repairing.”

and although he desperately tries to steady his voice, you notice the nervous bounce of his knee because he’s aware that the killer is notified of your current location

honestly, he’s an enigma that you’re unable to solve

dwight carries the characteristics of being a pronounced leader,, locating and increasing the efficiency of teammates whenever he was in Trials

at times, however, his jumpy behavior or how you’ve caught him biting at the tips of his nails contradicts all previous logic

but he’s always like this: incredibly polite yet remarkably strategic

a reluctant brave leader

in your peripheral vision, you observe the methodical way his fingers pull at the wires,, how his dark brows furrowed from atop his thick-rimmed glasses due to his unrivaled concentration

and his efficiency bolsters a wave of confidence to wash over you

“good,” dwight hums in encouragement when the two of you work in flawless tandem, “that’s more like it.”

soon, the shared generator is more than halfway progressed,, the increase of repair speed having a huge impact

but the dire presence of the killer is forewarned in a vicious screech

you both need to make a run for it

dwight’s eyes hurriedly dart to yours before he tactfully orders, “get going, I’ll finish this!”

it’s an executive decision,, one that forces him to contemplate so thoroughly that the edge of his hand comes up to push at his glasses

“what? no,” you shake your head while desperately yanking at the wires in hopes of repairing the generator quicker, “we’re almost done with this and I can’t just leave you here.”

and the second half of your sweet comment has his expression softening because, of course, he knows you’re worried about his well-being

a corner of his lips lifted at the sentiment and it’s such a rare occurrence that you’re left stunned while he reassures you, “you’re always looking out for everyone but listen to me: let me watch over you.”

and sure, dwight’s voice cracks during his confession (which stiffly tumbles out of his mouth) but your cheeks heat up regardless while his next words send you sprinting away with a stronger mentality

“now,” he pauses to send you a single, assured nod, “show me what you can do!”

jake park

aka: solitary survivalist

typically known as a solo survivalist,, not the type to become sidetracked during Trials

prides himself in his ability to adapt in any circumstance

an excellent teammate to have, especially in the Realms that are centered around the woods

yet, he’ll struggle with building connections outside of Trials and is often found replenishing his toolbox alone while the others are gathered around the campfire

not the best at socializing due to his rebellious nature and tendency to flee when pressure grows, he’s uncertain on how to interact with the other survivors

dark eyes scanning the group, he’d be vigilant yet silent in group settings like this

everyone’s conversing,, attempting to take the edge off of the uncertainty of when the Entity would beckon them into another Trial

light chuckles could be heard but the rare noise doesn’t sway his attention

his fingers work methodically to clean off varying vice grips before laying them carefully in a metal toolbox resting by his feet

and it isn’t until you sidle in the space beside him does he glance up

“jake?”

his name on your lips sounds soft, friendly, and it immediately snatches his attention, “(y/n).”

it’s silent for a couple seconds,, but from the corner of his dark eyes he notes the skittish smile you offer him at the casual mention of your name

you’re fumbling with something

“made this for you to use in the next Trial,” you beckon for him to take the item from your hands, “I figured it might be helpful.”

his gloved hands brush against makeshift cutting wire made from jagged metal wire and two wooden handles

it’s an attempt,, that much is certain by the irregular and ragged notches in the design

but the sentiment is unbelievably sweet

“for me?”

the question sounds foolish coming from him but his awkwardness is overlooked by you when you eagerly nod in response

“you sure?”

just from the shape of it he’s aware that the cutting tool could be used to sabotage hooks (an action he’s never rationalized to commit during a Trial,, yet, it’s a consensus that he’s one of the most agile survivors that could pull off such a feat)

but your blind, compassionate trust in him is the most relevant factor that he’s dazed from

a bright grin tugs upon your lips at his realization, “of course. only you can pull it off, jake.”

and it’s this initial encounter that sparks the habit of jake risking his life to sabotage any hooks whenever you’re being carried by the killer

it’s a strange deed,, how the solo survivalist abandoned his previous ways if you were even in an ounce of danger

because he’s sprinting to your rescue

the time nor place never dwindles his ability to locate the closest hook, slide beside it, and grant you the chance to wiggle out of the killer’s grasp– all while clutching onto the cutting wire you gifted him

ace visconti

aka: lucky gambler

“ace, you can’t just keep giving me items during the Trial.”

your exasperation is lost on the male, however, because he’s already tipping the edge of his cobalt-colored hat towards you

he’s a gambler

a lucky one at that

will continually push his odds of being caught in the basement while looting the permanent chest that’s tucked away in one of the dingy corners

“just for you, sweetheart,” he casually mentions while bestowing the offering to you

his breathing is absurdly stable,, considering that he trekked across the entire Realm just to personally hand you the gift

pressing your lips in a firm line, you halfheartedly scold, “time is wasted if you keep this up, ya know.”

and, naturally, he shrugs his shoulders in feigned apology while shooting you a charming grin

despite your reprimand you’re still curious on what he gifted you this time

fingers digging through the contents, a noise of complete awe leaves your lips, “oh, ace.”

because nestled in the middle of the medkit is a plastic bottle of styptic agent,, used to stop wounds from hemorrhaging

highly beneficial to use while healing yourself or another teammate and the rarity of the item equates to it being incredibly valuable

“it’s great but I can’t take this from you,” you pause to close the medkit, “you should have it.”

his bright eyes peer down at you from behind his shades,, noticing the hesitant sweep of your gaze upon inspecting the item in your hands

but ace has different plans

shaking his head, he proceeds to place a gentle hand on your shoulder, “keep it. it should come in handy.”

and of course it’ll be useful because you realize there’s even added gauze within the medkit to heal a couple more injuries

it’ll give the team an advantage

“it’s just a lot,” you fiddle with the box’s metal handle, “this is really good loot.”

his brows shoot up at this but coolly responds, “what can I say? I’m just a lucky guy.”

he’s bargaining with you, you know that– except he isn’t expecting anything in return

ace’s charismatic grin is contagious and soon a bashful smile dances on your lips

and you’re not sure if it’s the warmth of his touch or the persuasive drawl of his voice,, but you cling onto the medkit with earnest

leon s. kennedy

aka: rookie police officer

“leon!”

the holler of his name causes his wide eyes to land on your crouched figure

naturally, you’re leaning into the side of the generator to pull at a bundle of wires and increase the probability of powering the exit gate

he treads forward before dropping to his knees to assist you in repairing the generator, “fancy seeing you here.”

and his voice is warm, welcoming, and everything that you adore about leon

his uniform is slightly covered with remnants of blood and dirt but otherwise he seems safe

“you scared me,” you sheepishly explained and gestured to the locker he just emerged from, “you need to tell us before you do that!”

your chiding is only for show, however, because the mutual infatuation you both share for each other is blatantly obvious

from lingering stares and giddy smiles, your fellow teammates are well informed of the potential relationship

which is why the third person that was helping you complete the generator stands up to leave

but not before giving you a discreet wink

and needless to say, the rookie cop comments about the strange behavior, “I– what was that about?”

he raises a brow but is immersed with guiding your fingers to the correct cluster of wires

responding with a quick shake of your head, you wager a glimpse at him when he abruptly digs in his belt pouch

“oh, before I forget,” leon opens his gloved hand to reveal a flashbang, “I got something for you.”

before you can sincerely thank him, he drags his hand up to scratch the back of his neck and murmurs, “in case you need it.”

and the sun’s sweltering rays only emphasize the tips of his reddened ears

“is this what you were crafting in the locker?”

you attempt– really, you do– to steady your voice but the gesture is just so overwhelmingly wholesome that your tone wavers

and your hands instinctively raise to cover your face before you add in muffles, “I’ll keep it then.”

he perks up at your declaration,, light-hued eyes glistening at the knowledge that you’ll hold onto his flash grenade

a soft grin dances on his lips, “okay.”

and there’s a comfortable silence that settles amongst you both

that is, until leon piques up, “you know, you’re kinda cute when you’re embarrassed. gimme your number when we make it out of the Trial?”

#dead by daylight #dbd #dwight fairfield #dead by daylight x reader #jake park #dbd survivor #dbd x reader #resident evil leon #leon kennedy #ace visconti #dead by daylight dwight #dead by daylight x you

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gatitties · 2 years

Text

Incorrect quotes

─ Dbd x gn!teen!reader

─ Summary: just you being you

─ Warnings: none

*(I will be using y/n for this chapter)*

6 < 7 > 8

You: Bad things keep happening to me, like I have bad luck or something.

Amanda: You don't have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you're a dumbass.

Ghostface: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Y/n have been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get them out...

You: You know, not every problem can be solved with an axe.

Huntress: That's why I carry more than one axe.

Dwight: What are your goals?

You: To pet all the dogs.

Dwight: No, fitness goals.

You: To be able to run fast enough to pet all the dogs.

Demogorgon: *happy noises on the background*

Feng Min: It’s dark in here.

You: Don't worry, I got this.

You: *Stomp your feet*

You: *Skechers light up*

You: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.

Ghostface: We're the best thing that happened to you?

Frank: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

Nurse: You know those things will kill you, right?

You, pouring another glass of whiskey, lightning a cigarette and taking a raw cookie dough: That’s the point.

Meg: David, I'm sad.

David: *Hold out arms for a hug* I'ts going to be okay.

Steve: Hey y/n, I'm sad.

You: yeah, me too.

You: Is stabbing someone immoral?

Julie: Not if they consent to it.

Joey: Depends who you're stabbing.

Susie: Do it.

Dwight, banging on the door: Y/n! Open up!

You: Well, it all started when I installed Twitter...

Kate: No, he meant-

Claudette: Let them finish.

You, threatening the others with an amongus suit: Listen... life comes at us fast. We don't know what life is gonna give us... and today, it's gonna give you... amogus inflatable suits!

Entity, going over your resume: Okay, so right here, it states that you’re creative.

You: yes.

Entity: Okay... may I know what you create?

You: Problems.

Jake, addressing the survivors: And if you have any suggestions feel free to put them in the suggestion box.

Nancy: But that's just a trash can.

You: Innovative, I like it.

Quentin: You often use humor to deflect trauma.

You: Thank you.

Quentin: I didn't say that was a good thing.

You: What I'm hearing is, you think I'm funny.

You, arriving at the exit of a game: Sorry I’m late... I was... doing things.

*Sounds of running footsteps progressively getting louder*

Trickster: THEY PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKIN’ STAIRS.

Yui Kimura: We need a distraction.

Tapp: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

You, whispering: My time has come.

*Some characters reacting to y/n saying 'I love you'*

Claudette: Thank you!

David: Oh no, what do you want?

Demogorgon: *Happy gurgles*

Bubba: *A flustered mess*

Freddy: Sounds fake but okay.

Jake: can I get a refund?

You: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do?

Huntress: Have everyone stand.

Wraith: Bring three more chairs.

Amanda: The most important ones can sit down.

Freddy: Kill three.

Tapp: Good morning.

Kate: Good morning.

Cheryl: Good morning.

Ace: Ya'll sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit.

You: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS *throw a slice of cheese in Ace's face*

You: Fool me once, I’m gonna kill my self again.

You: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Ghostface: Oh yeah? You're the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD.

You: I'm leaving you, and I'M TAKING SUSIE WITH ME.

Julie, picking up the monopoly board: I think we're gonna stop playing now.

You: Sometimes I drink milk straight out of the container.

Hillbilly: The cow???

*Preparing to sleep*

You: Goodnight moon.

You: Goodnight tree.

You: Good night ghost that only I can see.

Ghostface, looking from the window: no one had ever cared so much about me.

You: So apparently the 'bad vibes' I’ve been feeling are actually severe psychological distress... welp *keep watching tiktok*

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justheretop0st · 1 year

Text

Romance in Demand

Now that the new years were done and gone, a new holiday was in everyone’s sights. A day of forfeiting the fear and hate of the Entity. For some reason, it allowed its meals to participate in the holiday. Whether it would ever understand it’s purpose, no one was to know. But who cared?

Dwight Fairfield

Being here the longest, he wouldn’t know any other love trend other than telling his lover that he loved them. As red or weird as he looked doing it, it was the only way he knew how. He didn’t know about the 5 love languages. So whenever you show him yours, his heart does jump into his throat. It was so unique and lovely. But he still just tells you, “I-I love you!” A huge dorky smile on his face.

Jake Park

Most times he wants to be left alone. Today he just wants to be alone with you. He takes you to his spot. A place where he actually care for the crows that spot the realm. They’ve come to like him. And with you around, they come to like you too. He can generally tell who’s a good person or not by a crows reaction to a person. He had a doubt, but now, he knows. In this solace, as you coo at the crows, he sits and enjoys this peace.

Ace Visconti

He has so many words that even when your eyes roll he comes up with more to say. You know it’s all words and nothing really more. But his actions are what make you believe the love he does feel for you. Though he could tell you on a normal day he loves you, it’s when he holds your hand that you know. So today, when he takes your hand again and you both dance. By the campfire, people can watch and enjoy. But the two of you know the real truth. It’s no show, but it is a show love.

Adam Francis

He’s never been one for the expressive voice of his feelings. He only really enjoyed reading about them. He read everything and studied how it brought out emotion in the people who read them. So he took the time to write out even thing he could think of about you. Sometimes you made him frustrated and sometimes you made him feel inadequate. But the way you two would talk it out made his heart know you were the one. His words were no where near the greats, but that didn’t matter. Not to him.

Jeffery Johansen

He may not have lived the worst life, but it was a tough life. He still chose to find his peace in any medium he could. This world prevented most, so he grew in charcoal. Sometimes he would draw his parents, sometimes his old rescue, most times he drew you. You wouldn’t always notice or even remember, but he made sure to save them all. Even on this day, it was no different. Only he drew you with his rescue, back in the world. Perhaps if things could be different, he could really show you his talents.

Felix Richter

It was almost torture to not have much to read or observe. He felt alone. He didn’t have great social skills to connect with the others, but you didn’t care it seemed. You brought him so far, and he wouldn’t have betray this gift from you. Though he read only historical and architectural books, he spoke with Adam about fictional works. He spoke with Ace to learn more about the words of affection. In the end, he grew to give you everything you might have needed. He spoke rough poetry to you, expressing his love. It did leave him short of breath, but your hands in his made him know he did well.

Jonah Vasquez

He’s no man of words but of proven math and science. This whole holiday was irrationally stupid. But the way your eyes glowed at the thought, well, he wouldn’t shut down that feeling. Trying everything in his ability, he is able to come up with a corny way to showcase his love to you. A simple piece of paper that, when folded correctly, looked like a declaration of love. But expanded was a problem that wasn’t meant to be solved. Seeing you try your hardest though brought a smile to his face.

#dbd #dead by daylight #dead by deadlight #dwight fairfield #dbd survivor #jake park #ace visconti #dwight x reader #dbd jake x reader #ace x reader #adam Francis #Adam x reader #jeff johansen #Jeff x reader #felix richter #Felix x reader #jonah vasquez #jonah x reader #valentines

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imtooscaredforthis · 2 years

Text

Antagonist

Chapter Five: Homesick

Mentions of: Crying, Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, Knives, etc.

A/N: Here’s another chapter! Hope I didn’t make you guys wait too long, lol

Tags: @prettycutebunny @autisticpickle @dead-bxxxtch-walking @moonshineinasippycup @froegis

Letting out a long sigh, you walked back from yet another trial. You keep on thinking that you can’t face another new killer, but it honestly seemed like there was an endless amount of them, all sacrificing or moriying you in different brutal ways.

But at least you can get a break and relax. Unfortunately, you don’t have a specific place to relax in or anything, since your cabin hasn’t arrived yet. And you feel guilty about always going to Kate’s place, kinda ke you’re mooching off of her, so, you try to stay away from it as much as you can.

But things change when you see Ace walking over to the fire, with something shiny in his hand. “Check it out. This is a pretty nice necklace. I could probably be able to pawn this baby for a thousand or so. It’s a shame I can’t.”

“Hey, wait a second, that’s mine!” You said, recognizing it, and jumping up to your feet. Ace stared at you, seemingly hesitating, so you walked over to him, snatching it from his hand.

Unhooking it, you slipped the necklace around your neck, putting it on, and fiddled with the silver heart on the end of it, that had your initials engraved on it. “Where’d you get this?”

“Over there, there’s a bunch of stuff just laying in that box.” Ace gestured over his shoulder to a spot behind him, where a few other survivors were standing.

Brushing past him, you walked over to where all the survivors were, finding a cardboard moving box, which had all your belongings in it. “Looks like you finally got a cabin.”

Kate remarked, and you picked the box up, holding it in your arms, going over to the cabins. You stopped at the cabin on the far end, one that was right next to the woods. There’s a small, dented mailbox in front of it that has your last name on the side of it.

It looks just like the mailbox on the outside of your old house. Opening the door, you step inside, finding your old room, in your small, cramped apartment.

You smiled to yourself, looking around at your surroundings. It was all the same as you remembered it. The same rickety old bed, with the faded pink comforter, and your record player, and the wooden desk that would give you a splinter the second you touched it with all the old bills scattered across it. You even had your shitty bean bag chair too.

While you have more memories in your original home, the memories of this apartment are much better, and you appreciate that The Entity is letting you stay here.

You lay back on your bed, letting out a long groan, feeling your body sink into the mattress. You almost fell asleep, if it wasn’t for the nagging feeling of curiosity to see what was in the box.

There are a few sets of your old clothes, including pajamas, which is strangely convenient. You also found your old Sony Walkman, and some cassette tapes to go with it. There are a few records too, for your player, and you pulled it out and laid them on your bed.

You searched the bottom of the box, feeling around for something, but finding nothing until your fingers brushed against a small scrap of paper. You pulled it out of the box, flipped it over, and realizing what it was almost immediately.

Pictures of you and your sister in a photo booth. You sighed, staring at the stub in reminiscence. You remembered that day, when you two went to the carnival together and spent almost all night there, going on rides and playing games. The two of you were there so late that you had to be kicked out.

You miss her, so so much. There’s not a day that goes by where she doesn’t cross your mind. She’s always there, and it hurts.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears, but you couldn’t stop them. You clutched the paper tightly, fiddling with your necklace with your other hand. Soft sobs escaped your lips, and you sat there for a while, crying and crying until you managed to take a shaky breath and calm down.

After putting the records in the box, and the picture on the table behind you, you grabbed a cassette tape, popping it into the player. You slipped the headphones on, laid back in bed, shut your eyes, and listened as the music played.

And if you don’t love me now,

You will never love me again,

I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain

Slowly, you closed your eyes, letting yourself drift off to sleep.

–

Curiosity truly has eaten away at Frank, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why he feels the compulsive need to know more about you. He doesn’t know why he feels the compulsive need to see you. To hurt you. All he does know is that need is starting to drive him crazy.

So, he gave into it.

The next thing he knew, he was at the killer's boundaries, watching the campfire. He scanned over the other survivors, unable to find you. That meant you were either in a trial or in your cabin.

Going with the latter, he made his way over to the cabins. He found yours at the very edge of the woods, and the light in your window was on. It must’ve been his lucky day.

Frank went up closer and closer to your Cabin until he could touch your windows and peer through. Now, killers are allowed to touch the outer edges of cabins, but they can’t go near the path leading to them, or inside.

The Entity also lets killers scratch and knock at the walls or windows. He supposed it was her way of keeping the survivor from getting too comfortable.

Pulling his knife from his pocket, he dragged it along your walls and windows, making small scratches and a light screeching sound on the glass, one that sounded similar to nails on a chalkboard.

But there wasn’t a sound, not even a peep from inside. Peering through the window, he found you laying on your bed, fast asleep, with a Walkman on, clutching the tapes close to you.

The sight made his heart pound in his chest, and he found himself licking his lips, like a predator preparing to eat their prey. How cute, you laying there, all helpless, it would be easy for him to just-

Julie then slipped into his mind, making him stop and feel a sudden clarity. What the hell is he doing? He can’t be doing this. He has Julie, and that’s all he needs, not this little obsession/killing fling on the side. He should leave.

And with that realization, he slowly crept away from your cabin, going back into the woods.

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queendeeshorrorimagines · 8 months

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i actually have another request but its basically the same thing i req' the last time teehee

could i get sfw and n/sfw headcanons with a afab short and busty reader with the deathslinger, trapper, ace visconti, & jeff johansen <3 i hope youre having a good day mmmuah

Deathslinger, Trapper, Ace Visconti & Jeff Johansen with a afab s/o that's short and busty

Deathslinger x reader, Trapper x reader, Ace Visconti x reader, Jeff Johansen x reader

I hope you enjoy dear! ^_^ I apologize about the rambling on Jeff's part, he's kinda my comfort character 😅☺️

Afab reader

Warnings: Slight nsfwish, mentions of Canon typical violence

Caleb Quinn| Deathslinger

This older Irish- American has seen his fair share of women during his youth, before he went to prison. At first, he did not pay you any mind to you because of his role of being a killer and you're the survivor.

Once the both of you end up together, you bet your ass he has looked at how much smaller you are to him.

He loves how much smaller you are compared to his taller and broader form. He's not the tallest killer but he's still pretty tall compared to alot of the survivors.

There's times when the entity would dress you in outfits that brings out your bust more. Being the crude gentleman he is, Caleb has been distracted due to catching glimpses of your body.

Especially if you ended up in a bar maid or western outfit. He has ended matches quickly just because seeing you look so alluring has an huge effect on him.

If Caleb finds out that anyone's been harassing you or make you feel uncomfortable, they might meet the other end of his Redeemer. Killer, survivor, he doesn't care, they will meet the same fate.

Evan MacMillan| Trapper

Evan is rather on the traditional side when it comes to being outwardly bold with his attraction to you and your body.

He's not the type to be public with his relationship with you. Especially when it comes to reacting to seeing you wear clothing that shows off your bust. He's lucky for the mask or his blush would be apparent.

This man is a big guy. From years of doing the physical work while his father's health deteriorates and just his overall natural larger form makes him a brick house of a man. He views the size difference between him and you, his s/o as he wants to protect you from the other killers because of how small you are.

Evan finds solace in holding or cuddling your smaller form to him. When alone with you, this man treats you like your his personal cuddle buddy.

In private, Evan is more open to talking about how much he adores your smaller form and would be that guy who would hold your hand and show you how much smaller and delicate your hand is compared to his large, calloused ones.

If he finds out that any survivor has made you uncomfortable with your body/ cat calls you, they will be suffering the next time they face him.

Ace Visconti | Lucky Gambler

Ace is quite a charming man, given his lucky nature and how he has years of experience with seducing and smooth talking both men and women. There was something different about you that makes him actually want to be more than causal flirtations.

Throughout the years, Ace has had been with people of different sizes and shapes. He does like to show you off when you wear clothing that shows off your large chest.

Especially when you wear either a bathing suit top in the summer or even one of his shirts. Hell, Ace would think you look good wearing anything.

He wasn't a man that goes for serious relationships, his heart is in gambling until being with you. He thought he was a lucky man until finding you, his lucky charm.

Outside of trials, when it's just you and Ace, Ace loves cuddling to you with his head on your chest. It's not completely sexual per say, it's hearing your calm heart beat while the two of you chat about whatever comes to mind.

Ace would be that person if another survivor talks shit about you, he would be extra toxic to them the next time he's in a trial with the person. Deliberately messing up gens, not unhooking them- making them just about enter second hook before he does, chase the killer to them. Mess with his partner, he will make it rough for them.

Jeff Johansen | Quiet Artist

Jeff isn't a guy who has a lot of experience with relationships (maybe a couple long term relationships) and he's not a guy who has any particular physical preferences.

He doesn't care if you're smaller than him or not. He finds beauty with his significant other no matter how they look. He loves all of you.

Jeff won't say it out loud but he has had a few times where he's blushing or trying to hide his arousal when he sees you wear more revealing clothes. He's respectful and tries not to stare at you.

Being the quiet guy he is, Jeff wouldn't be the best at expressing himself verbally. His medium is his art. He loves to draw you, especially in pictures of you wearing more of the warrior queen outfits. You're not only his significant other, you're his muse.

Another way he loves to spend time with you is having you sit on his lap facing him. He adores wrapping you up with his jacket while he holds you to keep you warm.

Although Jeff isn't a confrontational guy, if any survivor or killer tries to be pervy with you or makes you uncomfortable, he will quietly make their next trial with him a living hell (constantly blinding/ stunning killers, not unhooking the said survivor) they will learn not to mess with you.

#queendeeshorrorimagines #dead by daylight imagines #dbd Deathslinger imagines #dbd trapper imagines #dbd Jeff Johansen imagines #dbd imagines #dbd ace visconti imagines #slight dees lemonade #afab reader #aphrxxxdite request

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wynco · 27 days

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Mutuals would you be upset if I reblogged a 7k word Ace Visconti x reader smut fic into your dashboards

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vikkirosko · 2 years

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Masterlist Survivors

👓 Dwight Fairfield 👔

👟 Meg Thomas 🏃‍♀️

🧪 Claudette Morel 👓

🏞 Jake Park 🏕

🖼 Nea Karlsson 🛹

🎃 Laurie Strode 🗡

🃏 Ace Visconti ♠️

⌚️William "Bill" Overbeck 🪖

🎮 Feng Min ⚙️

🥊David King 🏈

�� Quentin Smith⏰️

🔫 David Tapp 🧢

🎸 Kate Denson 🏵

Kate Denson x Reader headcanons Violinist

🥼 Adam Francis 🪨

🎨 Jeffrey "Jeff" Johansen 🎸

🎤 Jane Romero 📺

🏍 Yui Kimura 🔧

📑 Zarina Kassir 📹

🔦 Cheryl Mason 🌫

🏛 Felix Richter ✏️

🔍Elodie Rakoto 🔦

📀 Yun-Jin Lee 🎶

📟 Jill Valentine 🔫

🚔 Leon Scott Kennedy 🔫

📖 Mikaela Reid 👓

🕶 Jonah Vasquez 🧮

🌊 Yoichi Asakawa ☂️

🔦 Haddie Kaur🎙

👠 Ada Wong 🎧

💉 Rebecca Chambers 🩹

🔮 Vittorio Toscano 📜

🔧Thalita Lyra 🪁

🪁Renato Lyra 🎸

⚙️ Gabriel Soma 🪛

#Dead by Daylight #Dead by Daylight x Reader #Dead by Daylight headcanons #Dead by Daylight Oneshots #masterlist

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rootsofdread · 8 months

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Thinking of Ace, Ash, Chris, Wesker and Anna with a s/o survivor with the HEAVIEST plot armor possible, as if they're from looney tunes. They are just so lucky trials get straight up comedic instead of scary — killers trip over their legs somehow, bang their heads on the trees, miss the easiest shots possible etc etc, and reader is just standing over there like "😄"

Mayhaps they could just go around helping people, since there's barely anything to do apart from that !!

🦞 eatwell

Ace Visconti:

Ace seems to love having another person around that has the same amount of dumb, “unlucky” luck that he has, too. Finally, someone who can relate to falling face-first in a patch of bushes after jumping out of a window, which really hurts, but will get the killer off of you. Though, your kind of luck usually ends with stuff like that happening to someone else instead of yourself…but he has seen you take a few tumbles down the basement stairs, and is always amazed when you’re perfectly fine afterwards. He somehow tends to be on the receiving end of your luck, he’s been tripped over and run over by the killer quite a few times while they’ve been carrying you, making them immediately drop you. But even with luck like this, he loves spending trials with you, because you make every single one fun.

Ashley J. Williams:

Honestly, Ash loves having someone like you around in the fog. Even though anyone around you tends to get hurt for your benefit, he finds it funny to watch from afar. It’s like watching a cartoon play out in real life. A safe distance, where he’s safe from being tripped over or tackled by the killer when they’re supposed to be looking for you, because he already has pretty shit luck and bringing you into the equation never makes it any better. But he is also known for poor life choices, so he does end up making the mistake of hanging a little too close to you when he probably shouldn’t. He’s been hit by missed swings that were meant for you many more times than he’d ever care to admit. But he will admit, seeing the killer run into a tree branch while chasing you down makes up for it.

Chris Redfield:

If you know Chris, you know he’s a very no-nonsense sort of guy. He doesn’t necessarily approve of the antics that seem to follow you around, but he also knows there doesn’t seem to be much that you can do about it. Most of the time, he sits back and watches you from afar to make sure you don’t get hurt or get into trouble due to…whatever it is that you seem to have. The joke is on him whenever he believes he has to jump in and save you though, because most of the time it ends with him getting tackled into the dirt by the killer when they meant to jump on you. You can probably imagine the look on his face when he gets hauled away by the killer and you’re springing away without a scratch.

Anna / The Huntress:

To put it simply, Anna gets incredibly frustrated by how well you avoid everything she throws at you. Literally. Every time she tries to throw a hatchet at you, you lean down to pick a flower and it flies off, or someone calls your name so you move and she hits a tree instead, or you just so happen to trip over a tree root at just the right time so that she hits whoever you were traveling with instead of you. She doesn’t know how you do it. How you always seem to know whenever she’s aiming to hit you. She usually resolves to just leave you alone most of the time, but she knows at some point she has to try to hit you. At least you give her good target practice…

Albert Wesker / The Mastermind:

Wesker has to admit, he’d much rather study you than try to catch you. Trying to catch you usually doesn’t end well for him or anyone in the immediate vicinity. He can’t complain when someone else falls in his path at just the right moment as you move out of the way, but you are who he’s aiming for. He decides he just needs to plan around your shenanigans, which may seem impossible to others, with how unpredictable trials can go with you thrown into the mix, but he’s a scientist. His entire life has been carved from the unpredictable, and he’ll get to the bottom of what makes you you, even if he has to endure smacking into a few trees and falling out of windows to make that happen.

#inbox #gender neutral reader #survivor reader #ace visconti #ash williams #chris redfield #the huntress #albert wesker #dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dbd x you #ace visconti x reader #ash williams x reader #chris redfield x reader #dbd anna x reader #the huntress x reader #albert wesker x reader #the mastermind x reader

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lethaljello · 3 years

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SASA LELE

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eating-plastic · 10 months

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God, I really wanna write an Ace Visconti x reader…something, even tho I really don’t know too much about him or dbd. I also don’t know if I want it to be headcanons or a whole fic and I don’t know if I want it to be sfw or nsfw. So yeah, if anyone has any ideas that they wanna send my way while I do a bit of research, that’ll be great thanks (just be sure to check my rules at the bottom of my pinned post if you plan on sending me a suggestion)

#dead by daylight #dbd #ace visconti #ace visconti x reader #seriously I’m starved for ideas but really wanna write something

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opalmagines · 3 years

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Super sorry to bother but I just wanted to stop by and ask, could I maybe get ace, David, Bill, Jeff, Dwight and Jake and their s/o somehow escaping the entities realm and going to their s/os original time and how they'd react to that and react to being able ti live life normally?? I hope this wasn't to much to ask! Thank you so much!

NO NOT TOO MUCH AT ALL I ADORE THIS.

Ace:

Even before all of this happened, he wasn’t used to stability.

He was used to high-rolling, high risk living, and he liked it that way.

But when he came back, all he wanted was normal.

Predictability went from something he hated to something he craved.

Something you provided.

He found joy in the everyday moments, the fact that your bliss would never again be interrupted by a trial, by the Entity’s merciless grasp.

You made sure to make new little routines for him to look forward to, too.

Making meals for him, showing him little bits of affection like clockwork, and more than anything, time to spend together.

Because the nightmares, the flashbacks, the pain never came when he was with you.

Even when they did, he never let it show.

You tried to let it slide, he never was one to be open about his feelings, but it got hard.

It felt like whenever you brought it up, it was you who took a gamble.

Thankfully though, he always seemed to appreciate how much you cared.

And that made it worth every moment.

David

Unsurprisingly, he lashed out at first.

He was angry at the world, angry at the scars the damn thing left on his body, angry at the nightmares that haunted him.

But he was never angry at you.

You cooled off his temper, a walking reminder that he didn’t need to fight to survive anymore.

And when David let go of that fight, it broke your heart every time.

He’d soften like that only around you, sheepishly confessing how he really felt in the fog.

“It was terrifying,” and “I thought I was going to die,” and “Bloody hell, I think I did die.”

You just ground him in any way he lets you, usually a small but soothing touch.

He leaned into it like it was his only tether to calm and to the safety of the world

Considering his mental state, you wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.

When he was in the fog, he was never vulnerable enough to show his fear.

With you, he didn’t have to be angry anymore.

Bill

It was hard for him to grasp that the fight was really over when he came back.

He was still jumpy, shaky, quick to stir

Just like he was when he got back from the war.

You remember how patient, how steady you were with him after that

Those skills come in handy now.

He admits it’s strange to let someone look after him instead of protecting everyone else.

“It’s good to be cared about after doing so much caring.”

You take it in stride. Bill was a protector, and even though he’d just gotten out of hell, you had no doubts that he’d taken those instincts there with him

So you’re not surprised when the nightmares are never about him.

He calls other names, names he doesn’t talk about when he’s awake. Names of people who “didn’t deserve this,” toward killers who should “take me instead.”

As much as it tears at your heart to hear, you never mention it.

You just stand as silent and steady support, always ready to offer a loving and understanding presence when it’s called for.

Just like he always did for those caught with him.

Jeff

He secludes himself when he comes back.

He paints almost all the time, not leaving his work area for days on end at times.

It worries you, more than you care to say.

You try and help, setting food outside the door and leaving encouraging notes, but all you get is the occasional quiet thank you.

When he finally lets you into his workshop, your heart breaks.

His art is darker than it was before, filled with blood and screaming and the biggest meat hooks you’ve ever seen.

It genuinely horrifies you, even though you try not to let onto it.

Jeff’s sensitive, though. He notices quickly.

He tries to explain, but he doesn’t even get through the first painting when he finally lets you see him break down.

You hold him, right there on the floor of his workshop and try to provide him with comfort.

You look over the walls while he’s on the floor, but your stomach twists in knots.

You weren’t sure what he went through for those long years, but you were sure of one thing.

He’d have you. He’d always have you.

Dwight

It took a while for him to get used to feeling small again.

He tells you about how much of a leader he used to be, how important they all found him, and if you weren’t mistaken the tone he takes is almost fond.

You’d have every reason to think it was not too bad of a time.

That is, if it weren’t for the other comments.

He’d try to downplay them whenever he let one slip, saying “it wasn’t that bad” or “I’m here now, aren’t I.”

But you saw the fear in his eyes.

You say how haunted he looked.

You saw how badly it hurt him.

So you try and support him, even when he plays it off, even when he tries to stop it.

Because Dwight hated it when people worried about him. It used to be because it wasn’t worth the time but now it was because he forgot what it felt like.

When he admits it to you, you take his face in his hands and smile.

“You are worth my worry, Dwight. It’s because I love you.”

Jake

He almost never goes inside when he gets back.

The forest feels like home, he says, reminds him that there are no boundaries anymore.

No limits

No imprisonment.

You follow him, because he always seems a little lighter when you do.

His smiles are wider, his laughs are louder, he just seems more like Jake.

And shit, you’d do anything to get that Jake back.

He never even mentioned what happened to him.

There were only quiet mornings after silently dealt with nightmares, mornings you could only grin and bear and try to support him through.

He was thankful. Even if he never really showed it.

Jake was always quiet, but his quiet times were louder now.

There was horror in his still face, a somber story to be told behind his silent eyes.

But he wasn’t ready.

You weren’t sure you were, either.

So, you simply stayed together.

Quiet and firm, facing the wilderness.

#DbD Survivors #dbd imagine #ace visconti x reader #david king x reader #bill overbeck x reader #jeff johansen x reader #dwight fairfield x reader #jake park x reader #h/c

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clairdelunelove · 2 years

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Vigil

quentin smith x reader, dbd survivor x reader, brief mentions of nea, bill, ace

genre: fluff, mild angst, heavy comfort, based on gameplay

warnings: mentions of blood/drugs/anxiety attacks, cursing, 6.5k words

synopsis: the period of time after escaping from a Trial is tough when most of the team's memories are wiped; quentin's included. will you be able to comfort this boy haunted by his nightmares? does he even remember you?

a.n. aHH I'm back! honestly this one was tough because I wasn't expecting to write more but thanks to a reader's ask I decided to add more for the sleepy boi! this will be a continuation of wake up! (which you can read here) let me know what you think of this one <3

I don’t deserve this.

It’s a lingering hopelessness that consumes him as he dreads every passing day. An unyielding pain resonates from his temple and travels to the rest of his head. A splitting headache. The migraine resides in a distinct place between the side of his forehead and ear. He draws a hand to cup the side of his head. The pain is irritating and he desperately prays for it to disappear. A wince leaves his lips. He’d bargain with his life to get rid of this side effect– the aftermath of completing another Trial. Pulling his hand away, he examines it and isn’t surprised to find that there’s a lack of blood.

He never bleeds after surviving a Trial.

Quentin brings both of his hands in front of him. His dark eyes scan the unmarred skin and he turns them over to continue inspecting them. No scars, lacerations, or bruises on his palm. Satisfied at the absence of injuries, he stretches his legs in front of him. His casual jeans, although clearly worn, were durable and clean. No specks of blood or mud dirtied the fabric. A patch resembling a carefully sewed tear on his pants near his thigh was apparent, however. He thumbed at the new reinforcement in his jeans. There was no sign of a broad gash on his thigh like the one he suffered from in the previous Trial.

Although, he wouldn’t have remembered it by any means.

The campfire causes a brilliant glow that contrasts with the darkened environment. A low sizzle or crackle from the fire speaks more than the individuals surrounding it. However, there’s a reason why the people around the campfire are silent. He can recognize the eerie gaze on his back. It’s hard not to ignore the drop in his stomach when he attempts to look beyond the campfire. They’re being stalked from a distance. He was always too afraid– too scared to let his eyes wander away from the campfire. It’s unnerving. Someone, or something, is always watching him. They’re observant to the way his knee bounces every passing second, his incoherent mumblings, and his wary eyes.

Depicted as a sub-realm, the campfire was the location where all Survivors were placed after escaping a Trial. The Entity ruled this component with a strict hand. All revived, dead, or sacrificed Survivors returned to the campfire. Their memories are gone. Each bit of information that they learn during the Trial is wiped clean. Knowledge was a powerful yet dangerous tool that the Entity would not toy with. With their memories gone, each Survivor would huddle near the eternal fire and never perceive the underlying threat of the whole situation. The Entity was able to conjure up the most intense emotion from the Survivors— clueless even in the depths of purgatory.

Quentin raises his head when he hears hushed conversation. He blinks his drowsiness away. The warmth of the fire lulling him to sleep was aggravating. All he desired was rest– whether it was a couple hours of sleep to bring him limited peace or eternal sleep to finally ease himself into a comfort that seemed like a luxury at this point. His curiosity perks up when the person next to him utters, however.

“No possible way. You have the wrong guy, kid.”

The oldest survivor puts both his hands up in mock defense while shrugging his shoulders. His military jacket creases at the collar and Bill Overbeck smooths a hand to lessen the wrinkles. He mumbles a curse under his breath. His calloused fingertips readjust the U.S. Army badge above his front jacket pocket. Bill’s eyebrows are raised while regarding the person he’s talking to.

“We were in the Trial together,” your voice starts strong but then dwindles down into a whisper, “don’t you remember?”

Bill, clearly confused, slowly starts to shake his head, “C’mon, if I remembered then I would’ve told ya before.”

You take a seat back on the wooden log. The rough bark grazes your skin but the pain is minimal. You hadn’t even noticed you arose from your spot on the log’s edge. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, your gaze returns to the fire in front of you. Hues of scarlet and auburn mix together in the flame. The fire wood steadily burns but seemingly never runs out. You can recall vivid events from your previous Trial. However, as each moment passes, a fraction of the memories vanish. A choke of disbelief gets caught in your throat. You hurriedly mumble some crucial moments from the Trial so you don’t forget it. Speaking them into the void to manifest some type of hope. Anything about Freddy, the Entity, Bill, Nea, and Quentin– you desperately cling onto. You wish you had a notebook to jot down all your recollections before they’re gone. From Quentin’s angle, it looks like your eyes are getting progressively glossy.

“You told me to let you know if I made it out alive,” you explain, “before you were leaving with Nea. We were separated from each other and couldn’t make it out in time but you wouldn’t leave us behind-”

Bill tilts his head to the side and scratches underneath his beret, “I said that, huh?”

It’s blaringly obvious that Bill is puzzled by your story or he thinks you’re on the edge of insanity. Honestly, you’re more willing to come to terms that you’re deranged rather than assuming that you fantasized about the last Trial. Your gaze focuses on Nea, who’s sitting on the edge of the wooden log with Bill. She fiddles with the leather band on her wrist. Not a single word has left her mouth and with how tightly her lips are pressed together, you doubt she would pitch in.

“And what’s this talk about a,” Bill imitates quotation marks with his fingers, “Trial?”

“The place that we were just at,” you pause, “with the snow. We were all doing generators and running away before we could get caught. It takes a while but once the gates are open then we’re free to leave.”

“It sounds like a childish game.”

Nea finally decides to speak now. Her kohl-rimmed eyes hold onto yours when she blurts out the comment. She taps her sneakered foot against the ground, a habit she picked up while evading from patrolmen in her earlier days. It seems like she wasn’t expecting to join the conversation because she quickly avoids your somber eyes.

Her mouth moves before her brain can, “even if it was a game, I would be long gone.”

“That’s a crock of shit.” Bill jabs his thumb towards his chest, “this old man would be the one escaping the game if that happened.”

You don’t tell them about the hooks. The limited chance of escape once you’re hung from it. It’s a game of probability at that point. The rusted metal hooks used to impale the killer’s prey and torture them. A timer ticks down. It seems like the timer is passive when you’re finding time to unhook another teammate. When you’re the one hanging from the hook, however, it’s distressing. You don’t let them know about the flash of panic that can overwhelm a person. The minimal time before that twisted mess of claws comes down for the final blow.

Nea snorts out an ill–contained laugh at Bill’s confidence. Her leg is folded underneath her as she perches her elbows on her knees to lean closer to the group. Yet, she mumbles a comment about him never knowing how to escape in a pinch and how she’s evaded Swedish authorities for years. Bill and Nea engage in small talk, lightly bickering over generational culture gaps and barriers.

You’re left alone with your mind. The memories of the last Trial were fuzzy but you were grateful you could remember most of what happened. There were five generators that needed to be repaired, the killer’s goal was to hook you, and escaping them was the utmost priority. It was strange. Being at the campfire, no one knew the previous information but was equipped with that knowledge once placed within a Realm. It’s also implied that your memories were the only one that wasn’t wiped out.

Why?

You weren’t completely certain why you could recall some information. The Entity wouldn’t be pleased. Knowledge of the killers and Trials would be a disadvantage for a mere pawn in this sick game to understand. However, you suppose persuading the others to listen to you spout supposed nonsense was difficult. You knew Bill and Nea were obstinate– stubborn even. Belief was a tricky phenomena. However, you knew that this small variation could make a grand difference. You needed to jot down your experiences in a book. All you had to do was keep repeating the events that occurred.

“And what’s your name, son?”

Bill gestures with his chin and draws the attention toward Quentin. The younger male had idly been plucking at his gray beanie. His slender fingers work the displaced strings into its proper place but he regards the veteran soldier with reverence.

“Quentin,” he replies and tips his head as a greeting, “Quentin Smith. Not really sure how I got here but I just know I gotta get out.”

At Quentin’s honesty, Bill chuckles and slaps the palm of his hand to his knee, “aren’t we all!”

The resolute dreamwalker continues picking at his beanie but a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. His ruffled hair glints when catching the fire’s brilliance. In this lighting, Quentin’s hair almost resembles the color of amber and streaks of blonde are visible. The color is incredible. You were only able to see tiny wisps of his hair under his beanie during the Trial.

He senses your keen gaze and flicks his own eyes toward you. Caught red-handed ogling at your teammate, you clear your throat and force yourself to straighten up. An unusual familiarity settles within him when he holds your stare. His head tilts, eyes sweeping to the way your legs are pulled close to your chest and then drags his concentration to your face. Your features are soft in the fire’s glow.

“And what’s your name? I mean,” Quentin rephrases his question into a softer tone, “can I get your name?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

At the mention of your name, you search Quentin’s face for any sign of recognition. You’re hopeful. It would be easier to persuade Bill and Nea if someone else could back you up. You only had one chance.

Quentin’s eyebrows scrunch at the center. He looks up, seemingly thinking back on your name. He purses his lips together. After the whole ordeal from the last Trial, a twinge of hope settles in your heart. A longing for Quentin to ease your worries and doubts was needed. Your fingers grip the tree’s bark beneath you as you inch forward in your seat.

However, Quentin simply mutters your name underneath his breath. He gets a sense of how it sounds when it rolls off his tongue. Your name sounds like a sacred prayer when he says it.

He murmurs a passing compliment of, “how pretty,” before tugging his beanie back on his head.

Yet, a sadness subsides in your heart to replace the twinge of hope that was previously there. You spare him a strained smile. It’s not the sharp pain that cuts deep within– not the same ache that comes with blatant disappointment that he couldn’t remember what happened between the both of you. It wasn’t fair to be disappointed in Quentin. He wasn’t at fault. Not once did he willingly submit to lose all his memories. None of the Survivors volunteered to be a tribute for this cruel game.

You just wished he would remember.

Your hands tightly grip the fabric of your pants as hot tears well up in your eyes. Tilting your head back, you attempt to stop the tears from falling. Under the span of twenty minutes you were on the verge of crying twice already. It had been a while since you were plagued by such humanistic emotions. You were no stranger to weakness. Crying made you feel powerless in the Entity’s Realm. You hadn’t even cried during the last Trial. A scoff passes through your lips at the irony.

“That’s kinda a big jacket to be yours, no?”

The log you’re sitting on slowly dips under the added weight of Quentin taking a seat beside you. He offers a half smile which turns out to be more awkward than comforting. His movements are slow, almost like he’s expecting you to turn him away. However, his question seems like he’s coaxing you to talk more. There’s a small space of distance and you’re certain that Quentin’s mindful of it so he doesn’t make you uncomfortable with his presence.

“Oh,” you twist away from him to hurriedly swipe at your tear-filled eyes, “it was actually yours. I’ll return it right away.”

“It’s mine?”

He repeats, stumped, but nonetheless waves a dismissive hand, “keep it. Although, you might need to get it tailored so it fits.”

Quentin grins and your heart tugs in that familiar direction that only he’s able to pull at. In the process of shrugging it off to give to him, you haltingly stop and cover yourself with his jacket. It brings you comfort. The collar sits just underneath your jaw. His droopy eyes are trained on yours. You know that he’s noticed the storm of emotions in your eyes and he’s trying to mitigate it.

Smoothing your shirt underneath his jacket, you allow yourself to add onto his teasing, “I would love to get it tailored but fashion is kinda limited in this place, as you can tell–”

“Where did you get those from, (Y/n)?”

It’s a small detail that the Entity seemingly glanced over but one that Quentin catches with unmistakable adeptness. Large hands come up to find purchase on your waist. He indicates the holes in your shirt. There are four jagged holes slashed onto the front that clearly appear to be claw marks. It doesn’t even register that he interrupted you mid-sentence. His fingers poke through the lack of material. The scrunch in his eyebrows become aggressively more intense at the center and his nostrils flare at the sight of the shredded clothing. Luckily, there aren’t any signs of lacerations on your skin from the marks.

There’s a shift in Quentin’s demeanor. His fingertips that were once circling around the holes in your shirt were now curled into tight fists. The sting of his dull nails digging into his tender palm wasn’t bothersome to him. He had a new worry to resolve. You raise a brow, puzzled at the sudden change because there was no way he remembered what happened last Trial. The previous twenty minutes just proved that logic. Yet, you were pleased that no matter the situation, Quentin was just genuinely considerate.

“Oh,” your fingertips trace over the rips and you nonchalantly shrug, “it was just from the last Trial. I was almost finished with a generator but was stopped and had to run away from–”

“Freddy.”

Quentin spits out the name like it was the epitome of venom in his mouth. The marks are too eerily similar to the metal claws that he’s familiar with. His breathing quickens, the entirety of his face explodes into a crimson shade, and he presses his lips together. His clenched fist itches to punch something– anything– to get rid of the rage within him. He glances at you and you speculate that he’s waiting for your confirmation.

The twinge of hope reappears.

Shifting closer to Quentin, your eyes search for him– the male that shouldered your burdens and ushered you to safety while disregarding his own. You gulp. Perhaps this was the time to expect that your confidence in him will triumph in the end. A leap of blind faith. You nod.

That was the trigger.

The memories hit him in an overwhelming rush. A hurricane of pure disorder. In his mind he’s connecting wires to a generator, vaulting over windows, unhooking Nea, mending your injuries, ducking to stay hidden, brushing his lips over your knuckles, and escaping the Trial by climbing through a hatch. He was constantly tasked with duties. Carrying out endless responsibilities to keep the team functioning. He was determined but perpetually scared. Not once had he ceased or stopped the panic consuming him. He’s always running in his memories.

Why was he running?

A choked breath cuts through the silence but he’s sure it’s from you. Hunching over, he groans when a headache spawns to combat the sudden flood of memories. The world is spinning. Strangely enough, he’s glad to be seated on one of the campfire logs and removing the risk of falling over. He threads his fingers underneath his hair to tuck it above his forehead and harshly exhales.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Quentin winces repeatedly.

He’s sweating. Sweat droplets form above his brow and he works to wipe it away with the back of his forearm. His complexion is blanched and devoid of all color. An uncomfortable feeling settles in the back of his throat. He’s overcome with nausea– a sensation he knows too well. Harshly gulping, he hopes the action is enough to push down the bitter beginnings of vomit being stuck in his throat. This always happens whenever he’s reminded of Freddy. The sudden yet frequent attacks that have him fearing that he’s out of control. The fear of impending doom. The breathlessness that leaves him choking for air.

An anxiety attack.

“Quen,” your wide eyes stare at his hands, “you’re shaking.”

Your voice barely registers over Quentin’s inner rumination but his downcast eyes sweep over to where you were indicating. You’re right. The entirety of his hand is shaking with such force that his brows shoot up. He curls his hand in so his trembling fingertips are hidden. This was embarrassing. His cheeks flame red. Before he can come up with a lame excuse, a rehearsed line that’ll sound sweet leaving his lips, your hand comes to rest on his.

“Why didn’t you say how bad it was?”

The whisper is just a ghost of your actual voice. A breeze in the evening chill. It catches Quentin off-guard because of how crushed you sounded. The broken syllable at the end of your sentence makes his heart drop. He’s temporarily pulled out of his stupor yet you hadn’t even planned on talking. The words left your lips like a runner jumping the gun in a foot race. He can hear your sniffling.

“‘Cause I’m just,” Quentin slightly shakes his head when he pauses, “me. I’m just the school blogger, geek, and quiet guy that’s cast to the side. The weirdo that can’t sleep. A guy haunted in his dreams by some freak-show. Didn’t think anyone would want to know–”

“I want to.”

Your hand tightens around Quentin’s. The warmth from the gesture is enough to block his doubts. Your gaze remained unwavering while you gently coaxed Quentin to share his backstory. The promised narrative was one that you wished to know more about. His eyes follow the trace of your fingers that fall in between the divots of his knuckles. The touch calms him.

“Can you tell me more?” You ask.

He licks the corner of his lips and presses them together, “where do you want me to start?”

“From the beginning, of course.”

It’s a smart comment. Quentin seems to pick up on your teasing too because he tilts his head to look at you. Narrowing his eyes, he softly nudges you with his shoulder while mumbling a sarcastic remark when you giggle.

“I was planning on starting from the end actually,” he quips with a lopsided grin.

“It’d be much too abrupt, I believe.”

“You’re right so I’ll share what I can remember,” Quentin chuckles before clearing his throat, “I grew up in a quiet town in the Midwest called Springwood.”

“Springwood?”

“Yeah,” he pauses before deciding to share more, “I went to Badham Preschool when I was young. It looks eerily similar to one of the Realms that the Entity puts us in. I haven’t been sent there in a while, however.”

There’s a faraway glimmer in Quentin’s light eyes. You’re shot with a flash of anger at his confession about the Entity seemingly constructing places that were relevant to some Survivors. His childhood memory, an innocent part of his life, was woven into a place of chaos and bloodshed. Your heart breaks for him. The male was expected to power through and survive every Trial regardless of the difficult memories associated with the Realm. Your thumb caresses the back of his hand and he hurriedly straightens up.

“And I found a connection between the school and Freddy,” Quentin continued without faltering, “so I studied up on sleep deprivation. Went to the library and scoured the internet on anything that regarded sleep, dream worlds, lucid dreaming, and methods to control the dream space. I had to stay awake so I drank energy drinks and other caffeinated garbage. It was crazy but I wanted to learn everything to beat him.”

His eyes are blazing now. He’s animated as he talks about his endeavors of trying to survive. You notice that his usually bouncy leg isn’t in motion. His nervous habit was surprisingly gone for now. There was a resoluteness in his voice. He hadn’t even noticed that his hand had slipped from yours as he used them to gesture while explaining.

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

Your inquiry causes his mouth to shut. His eyes, once burning with a rekindled flame, were extinguished. It’s a simple question and he knows it isn’t supposed to be cynical. Yet, he can’t help but face away from you and avoid eye contact. You were spot on. He was irrevocably hurt.

“No,” he shrugs nonchalantly to try to lessen the burn of his words, “you just make room for it.”

There's silence.

“But I couldn’t,” he finally breaks and confesses, “I couldn’t kill him.”

You watch his gaze drop. This was what you wanted to learn about Quentin. You wanted to know the struggles that he single-handedly copes with. The parts of himself that he doesn’t openly share with others. The reason behind his apprehensive glances and solitary persona.

Pulling back his hands, he settles them around yours again and gently traces the expanse of your fingers. His attitude switches. He seems to curl back into himself. Tucking himself back into the shell of what he used to be. His bottom lip wobbles. The anxiousness comes back. His knee starts bouncing as he idly fidgets with your hand. Now, he depicts the person you know during the Trials.

“And I was so, so, so close to ending everything. To finally get Freddy out of my life for good. I had a plan and lured him into the right position. He was gonna be gone and I would finally be able to sleep.” he lowers his head and whispers, “I just wanted to sleep. Shit, how long can a person stay sane before snapping when they’re sleep deprived? How much adrenaline is too much when you’re injecting yourself and you’ve built a tolerance for it? Are daily hallucinations and anxiety attacks normal? Did I even have a choice to stay awake when my nightmares would consist of him? I didn’t know the answer to any of those. The Fog took me before I landed the final blow on Freddy. I could’ve killed him. I could’ve done it so we wouldn’t have to face him now. ‘Cause of me and my mistake, other people are suffering from it–”

“You’re so giving, Quen.”

Your compliment throws him off-guard. Sharing optimism within the Realm wasn’t unheard of and Quentin garnered plenty of assurance from the other Survivors. Sure, he had a couple people comment on his considerate ways but it’s different when you say it so genuinely. There’s adoration that sparkles in your eyes when you stare at him. Distinctly, he feels the pent up aggravation and frustration ooze out of him. He stumbles over the rest of his sentence, determined to finish despite his ears burning, but ultimately gives up when you interlace your fingers with his.

“So determined even when you’re in danger, always looking out for the people around you, and you’re grounded during tough situations. You’re there when we need you but sometimes it’s alright to rely on others.” You remind him with a bittersweet smile.

“I can’t let them down,” he replies and emphasizes his next words, “I can’t let you down.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“What happens if I do though?”

“I doubt that you intentionally would but if it happens,” you pause and offer a small shrug, “it’s not the end of the world. I’ll forgive you. It’s only fair that you’re shown some of the kindness you show others.”

“That’s all you, (Y/n),” he draws your intertwined hands closer to his chest, “only you would find a sliver of light in this hellhole. I’m just glad I got the chance to meet you.”

“Are you?”

You can’t help but question his honest feelings but you already know the answer. It’s clear that he’s grateful. You can feel his heart steadily thump against his chest. He’s warm. Your fingers are pressed to his sternum. His heartbeat is a quick yet constant rhythm that makes you yearn to listen to it for hours. You could listen to it forever, curled up against him and never having to escape another Trial. You would never need to leave his side to fight for your survival. You shouldn’t need to prove your worth to a malevolent being that didn’t deserve it. There would be peace.

“Yeah,” he breathes out because suddenly he’s short-winded, “so fucking glad. I even remember you. Isn’t that insane? You made me remember everything. You helped me. Thank you.”

His eyes are so expressively beautiful when they glimmer in thoughtfulness. Your lips curl upward at the thought and his brows raise. He’ll never shake off the effect that your smile has on him. The slight tilt in the corners of your lips he’s memorized the angle by now. He’s awestruck by your smile. It’s a pure joy that he welcomes with open arms because the reaction is so intoxicating.

“You’re staring,” you tease as your cheeks flush at his longing gaze.

“Am I?” He rhetorically asks and lifts your hand up to his lips, “you can’t blame me.”

Slowly, he uncurls your fingers while still holding onto your hand. His movements are slow and sure. Slow enough to allow you enough time to pull away, indirectly asking for your permission. Sure enough to let you know that he’s certain, craving for your closeness. Quentin presses each and every one of your fingertips to the center of his lips. His kisses are tender. His eyes are fixated on yours. You’re melting. The heart in your chest feels like it liquefied into a puddle below your feet.

“You feel like home,” he murmurs against your fingertips and a chuckle vibrates in his throat, “hell, I don’t even know where home is, whether it’s Springwood or here.”

His entire life consisted of running. Receiving news of the disappearance of someone special to him, he was quick to sketch out a plan. A scheme that would permanently beat Freddy so he could never come back. It was a race against time. Dodging the danger and risk that came from dancing with the nightmare in his head. He wanted to abandon his past and never look back on it. Just once, Quentin begged to live a life that wasn’t plagued by Freddy’s presence. He couldn’t find peace in avoiding life and was always moving in synchronization with his racing mind.

Yet, he didn’t want to run away from you.

Whenever you were around he felt alive.

From the moment you were introduced into the group of Survivors tasked with combating the Entity, he was painfully aware of your presence. He recalls seeing the sheepish tilt of your lips whenever a generator blew up on the both of you. Your hurried apology would brush past his ears as he hyper-focused on your flushed cheeks. Multiple times, more often than he would care to admit, he would longingly glance at you when the group was gathered around the campfire. The fire’s flame kissed the outline of your soft features just perfectly to the point where he had to be directly reminded to stop staring. A couple of the men in the group, like Ace, would playfully nudge and tease him to stop drooling. Ridiculously embarrassing moments like those were the ones that kept him even more awake during the night. Sometimes during Trials whenever he would loot a chest, he would sprint across the Realm to offer the item to you because he relished the smile you shot him. Your smile was his own form of saccharine– an addiction he couldn’t bother remedying. He speaks again.

“Well wherever home is, I know it’s with you.”

Suddenly, the blazing campfire that was stationary begins to move. The light doesn’t illuminate where he’s seated at anymore. His gaze breaks from yours to follow to where it goes deeper into the terrain they’re situated around. It’s engulfed in a cluster of massive trees. The fire is out of Quentin’s reach and he’s all too familiar with the moving campfire.

He’s being called into a Trial.

The male places a final kiss to the tip of your left ring finger before standing up to his full height. The campfire is still in your perspective. It surprises you when you feel a tinge of disappointment. You watch Quentin’s wandering eyes and already know the unspoken circumstances. He’ll be gone for a while. You wrap your arms around your chest, enclosed in the warmth from Quentin’s jacket.

From where you’re sitting, you have to crane your neck to admire him and utter, “looks like that’s your calling, Quen.”

“Seems like you’re right.”

He’s faced away from you. The campfire is getting further away. Quentin raises his hands above his head, stretching enough to ease his cracking joints and get them warmed up to survive a Trial. There was never enough time for him to spend with you. Usually he’d be consumed in boredom while waiting around the campfire when you weren’t around. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure about the outcome or how long this Trial would take. He figures he’ll risk a glimpse at you, hoping to etch you in his memory before he’s forcefully whisked away when there’s a gentle weight on his back.

“Promise you’ll come back safely,” you pull him closer, “please, Quen.”

Quentin hadn’t even noticed that you arose from your seat. Your fingers grip the back of his faded shirt, tugging at the fabric until it bunches in your hands. You were almost certain you were wrinkling the only piece of clothing he had. Realization kicking in, you instinctively try to pull away while hastily apologizing but his arms encircle around your waist. He dips his head down to answer you in a hushed voice.

“I promise.”

He allows you to hold onto him for another minute or so, inwardly knowing the price he’ll have to pay for arriving late to a Trial. Yet, he couldn’t be bothered by it. He was more attentive to how tightly you were hugging him. Your face was pressed against the lower portion of his chest. The weight grounded him. Gazing down at you, his hand brushes back some of your hair and a tender smile dances on his lips. You were everything he dreamed of when you were in his arms.

“Give me a second.”

Reaching behind his neck, he fiddles with a metal clasp while you pull away from him. You’re curious. With your wide eyes trained on him, he tugs at the fastener a couple times without any luck. His cheeks heat up. The heat crawls up his neck. He curses at his luck and an ill-contained giggle slips out from you.

“Pretty romantic right,” his tone is sarcastic as he teasingly rolls his eyes but he finally unhooks it, “crap, ‘bout time.”

He slips off the string necklace that usually hangs around his neck and holds it in front of you. It’s a piece of jewelry that you’ve always seen him wear. On the rare chance you see him during Trials, he’s typically clutching onto it as he runs. The centerpiece of the necklace is adorned in silver and an intricate design is carved into it.

Whirling his finger around, he wordlessly asks you to turn for him and you follow his command. It’ll be your keepsake now. Butterflies are fluttering in your stomach. Quentin gathers your hair out of the way, leans forward, and clasps his necklace around your neck. He pinches the silver part between his index finger and thumb to properly fix it on you. It sweeps across the area where your heart would be.

“Don’t let me forget you,” he voices when you turn back around, “I’d never forgive myself if I do.”

He slides his hand underneath your jaw to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. They catch the faintest glint that causes his eyes to appear amber in the dim light. You automatically nod to which Quentin grins at because of your obedience.

“Good,” he murmurs appreciatively.

He takes a step closer to you. His warmth envelops you in a gentle embrace. Your breath gets caught in your throat. Slowly tilting his head, he allows himself to trace your features with his eyes. His head dips down so he’s at eye-level with you. He’s so close. You notice his lashes touching his cheeks every time he blinks. Your eyelids flutter when he leans nearer. The ghost of his breath sweeps against your lips and you’re reminded of the same scenario that happened back last Trial. You wanted him to be closer. Your heart thumps expectedly, internally hoping that this time he won’t pull away.

Brushing his thumb against your bottom lip, he flicks his gaze up and asks, “can I?”

Eagerly, you nod. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode. The inklings of impatience began to form. Your palms are sweaty and you hurriedly wipe them against the side of your pants. You try to bounce up on your feet, in hopes of closing the distance, but he just straightens up until he’s barely out of reach. Displeasure seeps out and when he notices his lips curl into a sly grin.

Yet, Quentin doesn’t make an effort to move an inch until you breathe out, “yes, please.”

With your permission and his wish granted, he closes the distance to press his lips against yours. Time seems to slow. Your heart is beating with enough force that makes it hard to breathe. Your worries are all washed away when his lips are pressed against yours and his grip on you is delicate– like he’s afraid to cause you any harm. Clumsily, you have to remind yourself to keep your eyes shut. The first thought that crosses your mind is that his lips are soft. They’re soft enough to disguise how sickenly sweet his kisses are. It makes your knees weak. He can hear your breathing getting heavier.

“Fuck,” he cusses.

He doesn’t make an effort to pull away even if he’s running out of air. In his opinion, it’d be an honorable death. Raising yourself to stand on your tiptoes, you can distinctly hear him blissfully exhale. The sound shoots straight through you. His hand, previously tucked underneath your jaw, travels down to loosely wrap around your neck. You don’t withdraw. He wants– no, needs– to look at you. The desire tempts him to slowly open his eyes and he’s met with a view of–

“Alright loverboy, your time’s up,” Bill muses and blows a puff of cigarette smoke in Quentin’s face, “sorry ‘bout breakin’ the moment, kid. I didn’t want the Entity to shit itself and have it chew out any of our asses.”

In the corner of Quentin’s eyes, he can spot Nea openly snickering at his previous antics. Her dark eyes flash between you and him before suggestively raising her brows. Bill seems to notice her action and he cackles while slapping his beret against his knee. The dreamwalker knows that they mean well but it doesn’t help the intense burn of his ears. He secretly wishes that in his next Trial he dies and never has to step foot in the campfire grounds again. That would be a grand dream.

He grumbles under his breath, mostly sulking to hide his embarrassed grin, and the sight has you giggling. Turning to you, he basks in your brilliance before digging in his pocket. It was finally time to go. He couldn’t put it off any longer. His fingers grip a small pouch. The item is tied with rustic twine that itches if it’s held for too long. This particular pouch is one that he’s been saving for a while because of its rarity.

An offering.

Jogging up to the campfire, he drops the pouch and the flames consume it. Burnt pieces of the cloth drift in the air. He swats away the stray scraps.

“What’s that, Quen?”

With your question, he turns in your regard. He opens his mouth, about to answer your inquiry, when he suddenly stumbles over his words when his gaze dips down to your lips. His heart is still racing from earlier. The kiss is still fresh in his mind– it would be for a while. He clears his throat. Deciding to shift his attention somewhere else, he glances at his necklace and jacket around you. They’re both clearly too large for you but it’s the thought that counts. There’s an affectionate glint in your stare, depicting the concern you have for him.

He glances back down at the consumed offering. With the pouch, he was bargaining to increase the distance between the sacrificial hooks in the Trial.

Quentin casually shrugs, “gotta increase my chances of getting back to you, right?”

Your lips break into a beaming smile. He swears his breath stutters at the sight. The gesture is the only motivation he needs to start and survive the next Trial. With a final wave, he turns on his heel to jog deeper into the unknown terrain. The Entity would place him in a random Realm with an unknown killer. If it was Quentin’s former self, he would be shaking with anxiousness and wondering if it would be Freddy– the nightmare that endlessly haunted him. Now, however, he’s determined to come back. For once in his life he was eager to complete the Trial. Exhaustion didn’t slow him down. His mind was occupied with the thought of your shy smiles, hopeful eyes, and soft lips. The corners of his mouth lift in anticipation. He had someone waiting for him past the exit gates.

Similar to how he felt earlier, he was right.

He didn’t deserve this.

#dead by deadlight #dead by daylight x reader #dbd #quentin smith #quentin smith x reader #dbd survivor #video games #nightmare on elm street #nea karlsson #william overbeck #ace visconti #dbd fanfic

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