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disaste-npc · 1 year

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Boyfriend sweater

Ghostface (Dbd) x male reader

Includes: establised relationship, brief mantion of Nea Karlsson, fluff ig, no use of y/n

also posted on my ao3 account

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The trial so far had been tough, he knew who it was from the start. It was none other than his boyfriend, Danny. Or rather, Ghostface as he called him around the other survivors. It had been right at the start as he felt a blade slash across his back before his attacker was gone. Ghostface’s way of saying hello during a trial before leaving to chase someone else.

And Ghostface didn’t do anything else to him the rest of the trial except for the occidental chase to avoid suspicion. He had to admit, he liked the thrill of the hunt almost as much as Ghostface, the moment the killer loses him giving him an unexplainable high. On the other hand, two of his fellow survivors weren’t as lucky as the entity’s claws brought them up into the sky. All of this happening at the same time as Nea worked on the opening the gate while he took chase with the killer, lungs aching from all the running.

The alarm sounded across the map from the gate, it was open. This caught him off guard with the sudden noise and Ghostface had a chance to grab him as he vaulted through a window. Unfortunately, Danny hadn’t gotten a good grip around him, and he slipped out of his grasp and his own oversized sweater, landing with a thud on the ground.

Before Danny could even comprehend that he was in fact only holding a sweater, his dear was crawling around where he fell, desperately looking for something.

"My glasses, I can’t find my glasses…" He muttered, his glasses having been knocked off when he slipped out of his sweater and in a realm this dark it isn’t easy to spot something in the grass.

Just as Danny was about to crouch down to help look, Nea grabbed the fumbling survivor's hand and dragged him towards the exit gate despite his protest of having to find his glasses. As Danny was watching the survivors head for the gate he spots his boyfriend’s glasses by the wall under the window. Before he can even think, he snatches them off the ground and hold them tightly to his chest along with the sweater. Knowing how much his boyfriend both need and love these items, he doesn’t dare loosen the grip he has on them, not even after the fog had lifted and he was again surrounded by his fellow killers.

The campfire’s subtle warmth kissed his skin as he appeared beside it, head held in his hands as he tried to blink away the oncoming headache. He sighed as he let his arms fall to his side. The fact that glasses worked the same way as items if they weren’t on a person when they died or escaped plagued his mind. Once something was left behind in a trial, it was gone for good.

“Enough of those thoughts.” He grumbled to himself as he zipped open his tent, kicking off his shoes before he laid down on the worn mattress he had. “Nothing to do now other than sleep.” He whispered out to the air, his eyes shutting as he fell into a dreamless slumber.

Birds don’t sing in the realm, but the survivors sure do chatter among themselves whenever they have time and it’s exactly that distant chatter he woke up to this time. Sitting up in his bed he reached for where his glasses would be before he could stop himself, eyes widening when he felt the cold thin metal frame under his fingertips.

Quickly he put them on, his head whipping over to look at his nightstand where they had previously been, only to see his old navy-blue sweater folded and laying on top of the wooden crate he used as a nightstand, a photograph tucked into the collar. With shaky hands he reached for the photo, an amused huff escaping him once he realized what it was of. His boyfriend was the main focus, dressed in the survivor’s lost sweater while he held a peace sign, one of his goofier poses, for the camera to see, the survivor campfire a bit off in the distance behind him. On the actual photo, written in red pen, one could read the words “Boyfriend sweater” with a doodle of a bloody heart at the end of the sentence.

He chuckled and with a smile he placed the photo in a little secret box with the other sillier photos Danny have given him throughout their relationship.

(art made by me)

#dead by daylight #ghostface #ghostface x male reader #ghostface dbd

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dreamerdoesthewritething · 11 months

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[Another self-insert comfort fic featuring me and Leon. Because after something I did to myself recently. I need this yet I keep putting it off because I'm distracted by DBD again. ><]

[Content warning for trichotillomania, aka hair-pulling disorder. It's a form of self-harm, so warning for that as well.]

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

It'll Grow Back

It happened again.

It's not something that happens all the time, but when I'm stressed, sometimes...

All I can think of is how Leon will react when he sees it. I might be able to hide it for a while, but not forever. He's too observant. He's also too loving of all of me. He'll probably realize something's wrong the moment he lays eyes on me. I'm no good at hiding these kinds of things...or anything, really. From him or anyone who has any observation skills.

I put on my tri-colored hoodie, pulling the hood up over my head until it almost covers my eyes. It's rare to find clothes that are big on me, and this hoodie is somewhat oversized, in a good way. It hides my shame. Won't draw attention to me, either. Leon's used to seeing me wear this no matter my mood. It's just that comfy, you know? Hell, he's even stolen it from me and worn it himself from time to time.

He's not away on any life-threatening missions, but he is at work. I have no idea what he does when the world doesn't need him to save it. I mean, I don't really know what he does when it needs saving, either, but that's because he can't tell me without consequence. Maybe the same is true for the mundane, sorta 9-to-5 stuff as well? It's fine. I don't mind being in the dark. And normally I want him home as soon as possible, but today...I don't mind if he takes his time.

I must've dozed off. Sitting on the couch with something on the television, comfy in my hoodie, and tired from just being me...It was a recipe for knocking me out. I only come to because I feel something touching me. Leon's lips on my forehead. If it was any other time, such a sweet little show of affection would've been enjoyed with sleepy enthusiasm. Not today. Because of what happened earlier, the action causes me to jolt, eyes opening wide as my hands fly up to tug my hood down to cover my forehead again.

Real smooth. Now he'll never suspect something's up with me.

Leon apologizes for startling me. I apologize for being jumpy, citing terrible sleep from the night before. I'm lying, just a bit. I am sorry for my reaction, but I'm almost always tired, so lack of sleep isn't an excuse. He sits down beside me, hip against hip, and gently pulls my hooded head against his chest as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. I all but melt into his side.

"What's wrong?" he asks after several moments of silence pass.

"What...? I already told you I'm--"

He says my name in that tone that has me shutting up. His soft yet stern spare-me-the-bullshit tone. I shrink into myself. I'd normally shrink away from him altogether, but it's impossible with his arm around me. He's all muscle, after all.

I sigh. "I really am tired...But I also just...I don't know. I'd tell you if I did, I swear."

I can't tell if Leon believes me, even though this is mostly the truth, because I can't bring myself to look up at him. The incident from earlier is affecting me, but I don't know why I did what I did. I don't know what's wrong with me, what triggered me to do it. How can I explain something like this?

Without warning, Leon pulls back my hood, acting too quickly for me to resist. My sins are revealed. I scream his name angrily, trying to cover my hair with my hands but I know it's too late. He's seen the damage. He violated my privacy and pissed me off, but there's no hiding it any longer.

"Sweetheart, what did you--?"

"Fuck you!"

I fight against his hold, and he doesn't resist. Tears are welling in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall, cursing myself for being an angry crier because it only makes me feel worse. He shouldn't have taken my hood off without my consent. He knows that. He knows he fucked up. Doesn't change a damn thing.

As I'm rushing off out of the room, he doesn't try to stop me. Good. That would be the worst thing he could do right now. Touching me, that is. As much as I crave his affection, it's also unwanted after what he did. I make my way into our room, then into the closet, slamming both doors behind me. Slumping against the closet door in the dark, I slide down until I'm seated on the floor and just start crying.

Maybe this is an overreaction. Maybe I'm a mess unworthy of Leon's love. But I'd have preferred to come around to telling Leon about my hair-pulling on my own time, when I was ready. He wasn't supposed to reveal the damage and force me to do it when I'm not ready. Like what the fuck, man? I even flushed the evidence down the toilet so he wouldn't discover all the hair in the trashcan and ask about it.

Should've known this would happen. He enjoys playing with my hair, despite how easily it tangles and knots and refuses to bend to the will of a comb or brush for more than a few minutes. The downside of having curly hair, you know? I've hated it for most of my life because it was always being compared to my older sisters' straight locks that rarely ever knotted and fought for years to make mine like theirs. Leon's helped me to hate it less. He's also helped me take better care of it. He knows a thing or two about hair care. I mean, have you seen his hair? He probably spends more time on it than it takes him to shower. Not that it's a bad thing.

How long did I sit in the dark bawling my eyes out? Couldn't tell you. Long enough for Leon to run out to pick up something for dinner for us. Long enough for me to get super snotty. Long enough that I got a headache, probably from dehydration. When's the last time I drank anything? My ugly crying drained me of everything. I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep...after my headache was dealt with, anyway.

There's a quiet knock on the door behind me. The closet door doesn't have a lock. Leon could just open it. But he waits for permission, or for me to do it myself. I reach up and turn the knob once I feel it in the dark, letting the door open without pulling away from it. This results in me falling onto my back out of the door, legs still crossed and bleary eyes staring straight up towards the ceiling. I don't bother putting my hood back up. There's no point anymore.

"I'm so sorry," Leon says, getting on his knees by my head. He leans over so all I can see above me is his handsome face. His hands hover above my face for a second before dropping to the floor on either side of me, supporting his weight.

"I'm sorry, too," I say. My gaze remains unfocused thanks to the tears, my feelings, and the fact I'm not wearing my glasses. No holding eye contact for me. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"No, I earned that," he insists.

"Only you'd say something like that."

"You've said it before, too."

I sigh heavily, my chest shaking slightly like I'm still crying even though my eyes are just wet at this point. "Alright, fine. Only we would say something like that. Is that better?"

He gives me a small smile. "Not really." A pause. "If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to. Let's just have dinner for now, okay?"

I nod. He offers to help me up. I hold up my arms, which he grabs and uses to lift me off the floor with little effort. That's something I'll never get used to, considering how heavy I am. Once I'm on my feet, he lets go and keeps space between us. He's as touch-starved as me, but he forces himself to hold his hands at his sides. I glance down at the one closest to me before slipping mine into it. He gently squeezes as he leads me to the dining table.

We eat in relative silence. At some point, I get up to pop a couple ibuprofen for my head to expedite relief since drinking something isn't working fast enough. Our conjoined hands remain that way throughout the meal. Makes it a little harder to eat, but we didn't mind enough to stop doing it.

After dinner, I rest my forehead on the table, closing my eyes. It would be hard to hear me talking like this, so I turn my head slightly in Leon's direction so my voice wouldn't get super muted by the table. Yeah, I'm ready to explain myself now. Well, as ready as I can be, anyway. If things went according to plan, I'd be doing this days from now, but life's a bitch and doesn't like to work with me.

Sometimes when I'm stressed, I rip hair out of me. I hate body hair as it is, hate when I grow it, and honestly, I've been tearing hair out of certain parts of me so often for so long that it barely even hurts. I'm thinking of one specific area, which if you know, you know. It's a sensitive part and yet I pull hair from that region without problem. Rarely do I ever attack the hair on my head, though.

When I do pull the hair out of my head, I often don't register I'm doing it until it's too late. It only seems to happen when I must be stressed yet am completely unaware of it and have no idea what's caused it. By the time I realize what I'm doing, enough has been pulled out that it's nigh impossible to hide it. That's what happened this morning. I just sorta blanked and next thing I know, there's a line of baldness across my head, most obvious along the right side of it. The line is like half an inch wide in a couple places, too. My pale scalp reddened, thoroughly protesting the painful act. Most of the hair has something--the root??--at the edge as I looked at it in my hands. All I could do in that moment was stare, mortified at what I had done to myself.

Then I thought about Leon and how he'd react. Embarrassment and shame took over. I flushed the hair and hid myself in my hoodie, hoping to buy myself some time. And then everything worked against me, like the universe itself was trying to humiliate me in front of my beloved Leon.

Leon listens silently to my confession, not even flinching when I absentmindedly squeeze the everloving shit out of his hand while I talk. When I finish, he hesitantly moves his other hand towards my head, tracing the line of missing hair without actually touching me. He's learned. He's not going to risk upsetting me again. In a whisper, I give him permission to do whatever he's thinking of doing. His fingertips graze my exposed scalp as he follows the trail. I wince. Despite how long ago I hurt myself, the skin is still sensitive, still inflamed, still complaining about what I've done.

"Sorry," I say.

"It's not me who you should be apologizing to," he says, continuing to run his fingers over that path on my scalp. Is he trying to soothe the skin with his touch? I'm not sure it works that way, honey.

"Can't apologize to myself. I'll never forgive me."

"You're so hard on yourself."

"So are you, on yourself."

He chuckles. "This isn't about me."

That's unfortunately true, so I fall silent again. Leon leaves me temporarily, cleaning up after our dinner. When he returns, he scoops me up into his arms, much to my shock, and carries me back into the living room. He sits on the couch where this all started, holding me on his lap and cradling my head against his chest. I'm not as relaxed as either of us would like me to be. How can I?

"Don't worry too much. It'll grow back," he says.

"It'll take months," I say. "I'll be even uglier than normal til then."

He scowls. Of course he does. He hates when I make these kinds of comments. I know. I try not to when he's around, but this one slipped by before I could stop it. Whoops.

"Let me get the scissors. I'll match you," he says.

I bolt upright in his grasp, wrapping my arms around his head. His face is smothered in my chest, but that doesn't matter. "Leon Scott Kennedy, don't you fucking dare! Don't even joke about it!"

"It's just hair," he says, his voice muted.

"Your hair is pretty and gold and gorgeous and does not deserve to be maimed just cuz I fucked up! No! No, no, no!"

He laughed, gently pushing me away from his head. "Alright, alright! Just don't insult my beautiful girlfriend. Nothing she could ever do will make her ugly. Not to me. Not in my eyes."

"You're such a dork, you know that?"

"Maybe. But you love it."

"I do. And I love you."

"I love you, too."

#dreamer writes #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x self insert #leon s. kennedy #leon scott kennedy #comfort #trichotillomania //#hair-pulling #not the sexy kind though

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trashyslashers · 2 years

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Oh gods I hope I don't bother and am not late for this! If I am, I'm so sorry! I'll give this a try!

Can you match me up with one of the DBD killers?

I am a 21 year old female. My sexuality is straight.

My height is 5'9. I'd say I'm more of a curvy and a bit thick shaped lady. My hair is over my shoulder ans I dyed it pastle pink. I also have a piercing on my cartilage. Dark brown eyes. I usually dress in darker clothing. I wouldn't consider myself goth but I'm mostly into a grunge alternative style. Though I mostly dress in an oversized dark hoodie and jeans so nothing special. I have many scars for many different reasons; One is over my eyelid and another dark scar on my thigh which they stand out a lot more than normal scars. I also always have black nails, either by painting them or getting them done. They're usually pointed and long.

Personality: I am mostly in introverted person. I'm not as social because I feel like I'd annoy people. My social battery is also limited. I have anxiety which also causes me to feel nervous around strangers or going out to places. Although I am a very talkative and I'd say funny gal. I mostly make sarcastic comments and joke about people if they're comfortable with it. I'm also at times courageous into trying to get put my comfort zone so I'd be more comfortable around other people. I am easily excitable and don't get offended easily. I take care of my friends and family before myself. I am also very patient with people and don't get annoyed easily. But when I'm angered I tend to keep it inside since I don't like to show my negative emotions to others. I like to say I'm kind and gentle to people I meet u til I get to know them so I won't offend them. Once I know the person well and their limits, I can be very outrageous and weird to be funny but only enough to not make them uncomfortable. Sometimes I even like to play small jokeful pranks on people. Although I also lie when I have a feeling it's needed. A very bad habit of mine.

Hobbies: I like watching specifically any horror and sci-fi movies. I also read books and spend my time coloring. I'm mostly interested into any sort of arts or crafts such as sculpting or theater/dancing. I do also like to make costumes of horror. I love to collect cute plushies and stickers. I am also a gamer playing any sort of game that peaks my interest (horror, survival, rpg, and games similar to Apex or CoD). I love to write stories. Not just fanfictions but anything that comes up in my dreams as well. I like to learn about animals as well.

I hope this is enough! Also thank you so much for this if you pick me and for your hard work as well! Have a good day! ❤️

I think Philip Ojomo | The Wraith would have a soft spot for you.

Philip finds it admirable how great your care and concern for others is; the gentleness and patience you display is something the world is incredibly, incredibly lacking in, and he cannot help but to have a soft spot for you once he knows you well enough.

Thinks your hair color is incredibly beautiful. One of his favorite things to do is run his fingers through your hair while the two of you are cuddled up together.

Absolutely understands the limited social battery thing; Philip is fairly introverted - though he does enjoy the company of those he cares for - and often spends time off by himself alone. He's very understanding about any time alone you may need (whether alone means alone with him, or alone alone).

He, maybe surprisingly, can be a very calming individual to be around. While he's silent, Phil can be very gentle when he wants to be, and he would be more than happy to be there to soothe you during moments where your anxiety is particularly bad. He's more than willing to help you step out of your comfort zone, however that may be.

Enjoys your outrageous, wild sense of humor! While he may not get every joke, Philip loves it when you're in a good mood and are playful; he isn't bothered by any teasing you may deal his way, and your well timed sarcasm is well received.

Philip, as we know, went through a lot in his life prior to being taken by the Entity, and as a result he, unfortunately, still carries and is full of that same rage he felt back then. You're one of very few people who can help ground him on particularly bad days. Not cure or fix it - but he'd never hurt you (outside of being forced to during trials, when push comes to shove, which even in those he does not enjoy), and is incredibly grateful to have a partner who extends patience and understanding his way.

Philip does not like lying; it goes hand in hand with betrayal to him, and he will make it as clear as day to you that you do not need to lie to him about anything. He is more understanding than you may think.

I can see Philip having a knack for certain styles of art, or at least appreciating them. His bell is often adorned with sigils painted on with soot during trials, and even if some may say they don't count as "art" technically, he does have a delicate hand when applying them. He'd be interested in seeing anything you make, and he would love it if you ever read to him any of the stories you've written!

#request #anon #matchup #matchups #match-up #match-ups #dbd matchup #dbd matchups #dbd match-up #dbd match-ups #dbd x reader #dead by daylight matchup #dead by daylight matchups #dead by daylight match-up #dead by daylight match-ups #dead by daylight x reader #philip ojomo x reader #the wraith x reader

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deadbyoffering · 1 year

Text

I posted 102 times in 2022

That's 20 more posts than 2021!

47 posts created (46%)

55 posts reblogged (54%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@orangecreamsoda

@mara-xx217

@lxxse-cannxn

@yuzukan

@foginthestars

I tagged 102 of my posts in 2022

#dbd - 100 posts

#dead by daylight - 87 posts

#dbd build challenge - 17 posts

#dbd build - 16 posts

#survivor build - 14 posts

#the legion - 12 posts

#frank morrison - 10 posts

#intermediate challenge difficulty - 9 posts

#feng min - 8 posts

#julie kostenko - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 35 characters

#posting this early in case of leaks

My Top Posts in 2022:

See the full post

19 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

If two killers ever have a kid, the kids power will ever has one of their parents powers, their own unique one or a combination of both parents's power.

Examples:

Sally and Philip:

The kid can turn invisible by holding their breath.

Frank and Julie:

Ever have Feral frenzy or their own unique power: like something related to music.

20 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

My interesting moments from DBD 2021

After playing one years of DBD, I want to share my favorite interesting moments from matches I played.

I though someone was hacking, it turns out it a rare offering to see now of days. Does anyone remembers this?

Me and the girls watching TV with Bubba.

See the full post

27 notes - Posted December 31, 2021

How Kazan got blighted

See the full post

34 notes - Posted October 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

25 things that the killers (mainly Mr. Carter) are not allowed to do

Due to the “chainsaw Myers incident,” killers are not allowed to steal or borrow a another killers weapon or power for trials. Yes, it was awesome, but it puts an unfair advantage to the survivors.

The Legion are not allowed to steal Jeffrey’s bottles and make them into Molotov cocktails than claim it’s their new power rework.

Just because Mr. Carter is called The Doctor and have medical knowledge, doesn’t mean he’s a license doctor or thee doctor or the best doctor there ever was. He’s not allowed to claim so.

Mr. Carter is not allowed to ask the survivors if any would volunteer for any kind of his experiments outside their campsite.

Killers are not allowed to play dark souls boss music when there’s a brawl or argument between killers. No, not even music from Spongebob.

Just because Miss Mora was a close associated with crows, doesn’t mean she’s their handler and hold responsibility for anything they do.

Lisa is not allowed to “borrow” Mikaela’s “Book of Spells” to improve her power. May that monstrosity clone of yours be a lesson on using someone else’s magic without approval.

Mr. Carter is no longer allowed to assist Mr. Jeffrey with his “improvements” of his concoctions and formulas. Don’t ask.

Telling new arrivals that you can tame The Demogorgon with a tummy rub and rat meat is right out.

The Shape is not to be taunted with. Go ahead and see what happens on your accord.

The Nemesis's zombies are not toys, practice targets or crash dummies.

Mr. Carter and Mr. Jeffrey are not allowed to interact without the presence of a responsible overseer. Mr. Morrison does not count as a responsible overseer. Nor does Mr. MacMilian. Or Mr. Johnson. In fact, let's just keep the two of apart, period.

Mr. Hak's knives are not be construct into any kind of cosmetic. Yes Miss Lavoie, your earrings and spiked jacket are impressive, but both have been confiscated.

Mr. Johnson's camera is only for Mr. Johnson’s personal use only not the following: Shooting photo shoots, selfies, pictures of the wildlife and [Redacted]. Really?

Mr. Carter is no longer allowed to host game night, trivia night, movie night and any group activities of sort with his colleagues. Not even if you ask nicely. Or even with the survivors.

Mr. Carter is no longer allowed to argue with historical events with killers from the time period that the events took place. It was three days to clean up the aftermath from your argument with Tazan about the “Fall of the Samurai in Feudal era.”

No one is not allowed to declare war on any animal, thing or even The Entity (Me).

The Legion No one is not allowed to contribute to this list. That is not a challenge.

Mr. Carter is not allowed to go to fan conventions. Let alone use them as recruitment for volunteers for his experiments. Not even [Redacted] conventions.

"For The Entity" is not an acceptable justification for any decision. Unless I required you to do.

Yes, forum trolls are annoying. No, they don't automatically become Survivors.

Mr. Quinn is no longer allowed to offer the solution of “Use more guns" to any problem. Or "Get bigger guns."

Mr. Carter is not allowed to organize authorize or create in any form a “Dead by Daylight Derby”, staring the Demogorgon, Maurice the Horse, Talbot Grimes, Victor Deshayes, The Legion, The zombies, Kazan Yamaoka and Meg Thomas.” No…Just no.

Joey is not allowed to get on the PA system and announce to the survivors that he just won “The Game”. You know what, Joey is just never allowed on the PA system for any reason, ever.

The Legion is not allowed to arrange, schedule, advertise, promote or sell tickets to "cage matches" between The Executioner and anybody.

58 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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