#quentin smith x reader

[rootsofdread]

Another one →⁠_⁠→

This time full platonic, Killer!reader had a younger sibling and they remind them of said sibling and sometimes reader catches themselves treating them as such

Quentin, Cheryl, Amanda and Sadako, also reader doesn't have to be killer if you don't want to i don't mind:D

i may have leaned too much into the sibling angle with this lol i hope that's okay!! i was just excited to write this cause i see sadako, heather, and amanda very familial-ly myself <33

Quentin Smith:

Quentin has no idea what to think of you, honestly. He's wary of every killer, so it's nothing personal. He's just…Nervous. And he's not entirely sure why you're so friendly and affectionate towards him. You won't hear him complain, but he's suspicious.

He loosens up decently quickly, though, realizing you're not out to hurt him. He feels more comfortable, even safe around you, especially when you hug him. You won’t tell him, but he figures it’s because you lost someone like him. Even if you’re intimidating to him, he won’t be the one to take away the little scrap of happiness you’ve been able to find in the fog. Besides, it’s not exactly the worst thing in the world to have the favor of a killer.

He likes discussing dreams with you. Dreams are much stranger and feel more real in the fog, it’s a phenomenon that interests him and he loves discussing it with his friends. But he especially loves the comfort when he’s had a nightmare, it’s been a very long time since he’s had someone to turn to when he’s had a nightmare. Now he has you.

You give him a confidence boost like nothing else. He’s never been very confident, or brave, but you instill courage in him just by standing by his side. Knowing you’ll be there for him after a trial gives him the will to push through it when he needs it.

He’s usually the first to initiate affection, like hugs, high-fives, fistbumps. He’s a very affectionate kid and loves showing you he loves you and loves having you as an older sibling, a protector and a safe haven.

Cheryl Mason:

Cheryl is more trusting of you, her young naivety kicking in when you show her the slightest bit of friendliness. This may be the one situation where it isn’t a bad thing, though, because she honestly loves having a tough older sibling-figure like you. She’s always wanted a sibling.

She doesn’t really pick up on the fact that you’re a little weird about “adopting” her in place of your real younger sibling. She just thinks you need help breaking out of your shell, so she’ll randomly give you hugs or squeeze your arm to let you know it’s okay. Even though she has the wrong impression, she is helping you in the way that you need.

For this reason, she appreciates your guidance. She’s easily trusting and can get herself into some trouble because of it, but now she has you to help her out of that and steer her away from it. She values your opinion and insight, and when she’s alone, she’ll often think to herself “what would they do?”

She gets overwhelmed easily by her emotions and is prone to meltdowns. During these moments, she appreciates kind gestures from you like a hug, a hand hold, a pat on the back and calming words. You always help her out when she gets like this and she could never thank you enough.

Most of all, she loves having someone to help her navigate the darkness of the fog. There’s so much of it here, and she’s a sensitive girl. She’s needed someone to rely on and she’s finally found that in you.

Amanda Young / The Pig:

Amanda is a little resistant to your affection at first. She feels a little like you're babying her, and she doesn't need that. If you go to ruffle her hair or pull her into a hug, she'll wiggle away and snort at you. She's not used to affection really, much less the familial variety.

It takes her a while to warm up to you. Her family was disappointed in her, she doesn't want to disappoint you too. She starts looking up to you and admiring you, particularly for your prowess in trials. She doesn't realize it, but you are like an older sibling to her.

Due to this, she kind of over-performs in trials seeking your approval. She tries too hard and ends up losing a few, coming sniffling to you. She feels shame, but when you pull her into your arms and tell her you're proud of her anyways, just for trying…She feels better.

When she's a bit more comfortable with you, she'll invite you to her workshop at the Gideon packing plant. She knows you like building things like she does, and she's confident enough in her skills she knows you won't be disappointed in her work.

She will try to imitate you on occasion, with outfits and moves and such. She always wants you to be proud of her, and she figures the best way to do that is to be more like you. She'll grow out of this eventually when she comes to realize you're always proud of her.

Sadako Yamamura / The Onryō:

Sadako absolutely loves having someone like an elder sibling to her, especially one that may share her grief and rage. She's felt closer to the killers in the fog than she ever really felt to anyone else, and now she has someone like her who seems to share the same sort of familial bond.

She'll act very childish around you, more her age. She'll follow you around like a lost duckling and will hide behind your legs when someone approaches. She'll pull on your sleeve and bring you over to a mess of papers and crayons on the floor, showing you she's drawn a bunch of pictures of you and her together.

She enjoys pranking you occasionally, mostly by crawling out of her TVs. She'll lead you to a dark place and suddenly disappear…Just as you start to worry about her, the TV suddenly flicks on and she jumps out to grab your legs. These are the few moments you'll hear a real laugh from her.

She loves letting you braid, brush, or play with her hair. She doesn't take care of her hair herself really, and she loves having someone who doesn't mind doing it for her. She loves seeing how you style it, even if it's just simple little braids.

She knows you had someone like her that you lost. And she knows it may be hard to be around her, sometimes, because of that. But she appreciates that you push through it for her, to be with her and watch out for her. She knows she can't replace who you lost, but she's lost people too, and you both fill that void in each other's hearts.

#inbox #quentin smith #cheryl mason #heather mason #amanda young #sadako yamamura #gender neutral reader #dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dbd x you #quentin smith x reader #cheryl mason x reader #heather mason x reader #amanda young x reader #the pig x reader #sadako yamamura x reader #the onryo x reader

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Quentin Smith - In a relationship Sfw

warning : fluff, comfort, trauma, sleeping pill abuse,

Info : So the second piece for a Kyle Gallner character here (I really need to write more for his charcters) as always have fun reading ;)

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

°Caring, anxious and loving

°Quentin and his girlfriend went to the same class, in fact they were in the same music class and started talking about The Cure together after she saw his t-shirt. ,,Cool cd...I'm Quentin Smith" he had introduced himself to her when he saw the cd in her hands, the latest album and still sealed. He knew she'd probably skipped school for it to queue it up at the store.

°But it was this encounter over a cd that led to a conversation after class and the conversation went so well that they decided to meet. It was a meeting in one of the city's cafes where they both sat eating pancakes, knowing they both had hearts beating too fast to eat. ,,Good food don't you think?," Quentin began, and his counterpart nodded in agreement, catching them both staring at each other, too focused on the other and completely uninterested in the pancake.

°Her smile, the friendly look in her eyes, the warm hands that touched him every now and then as they walked side by side only to look away awkwardly. They were both in love and it was only a few times after that that Quentin confessed his love to her with rosy cheeks and his fingers tucked into his cap.

°She had never seen him so nervous but her own heart was beating just as fast before she fell into his arms and was simply overjoyed. The two of them had become a couple and even though the school didn't pay any attention to it (they were both just two weird music teens to the other students), Nancy was all the happier for her friends and it had to be celebrated with pancakes at dinner.

°But even after that, their love didn't fade because she quickly realized how caring Quentin was, always holding her hand, usually only giving her kisses with permission until she assured him a thousand times that it was okay. He loved to cuddle when they both lay on his bed with their heads snuggled together on his chest.

°They both watched horror movies, old black and white movies, talked about the camera work, the music and the actors. He even started to play a guitar and tried to learn some of her favorite songs for her, she in return would always give him a cap and as a small reward after school they would buy new cds and new music together and go out to dinner every now and then where somehow it all started.

°It was a quiet and sweet but above all peaceful time, but only up to the point when it came to hitting. What was initially just mumbling and she ignored through the mumbling and tossing and turning sleep became a worry as he seemed to really suffer.

°He had tried to sugarcoat it for her, but she could see his eye rings getting worse, he was getting more and more tired and even during music class he would fall asleep and lean on her, only to almost cry out at the end of the lesson. He gave her a tired smile and she had to keep propping him up so that he threatened to fall asleep. And only slept when she promised to stay with him, which of course she did. Just as he did everything he could to help her when she had her days, for example. He was just too overprotective and yet cute at the same time.

°,,Quentin, how can I help you?" she had tried to find out what was happening and why he was suffering so much in his dreams, but she hadn't learned the history of the town, she was from out of town, she didn't know the nightmare demon. She didn't know the dangers that came with knowing and didn't know why Quentin always looked at her so apologetically.

°She noticed how his touch seemed to become more and more desperate as he held on to her longer and stronger. That he was consuming more and more coffee and Redbull almost startled her so much that she had tears in her eyes when she saw the sheer number of pills he was carrying.

°Until the incident when he was bleeding, when she saw the cut on his arm, she ran out of the bathroom and saw him cowering in the corner. ,,Quentin!" she had shouted his name, trying to hold him before shaking him so hard that he seemed to wake up. His fear and confusion hurt her as much as his injury.

°,,My-my star, you're safe," he stated brittlely, still calling her by her nickname despite everything before falling into her arms and embracing her as if he could have lost her at any moment. ,,Everything will be fine...we'll get through this" she replied not knowing what to say and just held him there for him until he too realized that there was no point in explaining to her what haunted this town, haunted him and why sleep meant death.

°It was a realization that also frightened her, that she knew he might haunt her too. But whenever they were together, cuddled up next to each other, it seemed that the demon had no chance. The kiss their shared was like a shield for the fear. That their love kept him from invading her dreams and for the first time Quentin seemed to be able to sleep peacefully with his love by his side.

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

@angelsanarchy

#a nightmare on elm street #a nightmare on elm street 2010 #nightmare on elm street #kyle gallner #quentin smith #quentin smith x reader

[clairdelunelove]

A Light in the Fog Pt.II

steve x reader, james x reader, quentin x reader, vittorio x reader, dbd survivor x reader

genre: fluff/comfort, based on gameplay!

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

synopsis: part two of various dead by daylight men and some adorable interactions you have with them during Trials!

a.n. final part of this series! I know dbd is so niche but it's nice to just write a lil of another hobby I enjoy! thank you for reading! <3

-

-

steve harrington

aka: former jock

it’s a ridiculously rough Trial 

that word couldn’t even begin to describe the atrociousness that was happening 

the Entity chose you to partake in it and unbeknownst to you,, paired you with relatively inexperienced teammates 

being new to Realm was, of course, totally acceptable 

but it proved to have multiple disadvantages 

risky saves, short chases, and miscommunication about generator progress were among the most common occurrences 

this resulted in an increased amount of collective hook stages for each person 

chances of survival were slim 

and, thankfully, you weren’t the only one to acknowledge this frightening notion 

“always the babysitter–” 

the shrill scream of another teammate being hooked elicits steve to repeat himself in a hiss, “always the goddamn babysitter.” 

because the situation’s looking grim while the three of you are repairing a generator together 

fingers tugging at the greasy wires, you glance at your third teammate and utter, “one of us has to get the save. usually the stealthiest one goes.” 

your gaze naturally drifts to your third teammate known for their quiet disposition 

albeit, it comes at the cost of them moving leisurely and unhurriedly,, which is definitely not a current benefit 

“the stealthiest one, really?” steve echoes sarcastically, “they’re giving you a stealthy vibe?” 

he offers them a shrug of indifference, his gray jacket crinkling when he shifts, and the wordless gesture serves as a response to when they’re clearly offended by what he stated 

and although his words are biting (and at the expense of your third teammate) you’re familiar enough with him that it demonstrates his underlying compassion 

he’s immersed in repairing the generator and only casts a glance when you skeptically stare at him, “got any smart ideas then?” 

there’s a couple moments of silence

then, as he drags a gloved hand through his tousled hair, he mentions a solution you wouldn’t have ever contemplated 

“how ‘bout you go for the save, sweetheart,” he pauses to peer up from behind his tinted sunglasses and grins, “you’re stealthy.” 

you let out an ill-concealed scoff, “you think I’m stealthy?” 

“oh yeah, totally,” he nonchalantly shrugs while adding, “stealthy like a ninja.” 

dramatically rolling your eyes at his jest, you still rise to your feet to prepare for the save,, seeking to give the team a chance at turning around the outcome of the Trial 

and just as you’re about to amble away, a hand shoots out to gently grasp onto your wrist 

“hey,” steve’s gaze flits to the ground as his voice drops into a soft murmur, “I trust you to get the save, that’s all.” 

the progression of the generator is long forgotten apparently because he’s risen from his spot beside the machine in order to stop and explain himself to you 

his actions are so abrupt and quick that your eyes widen at the disclosure that tumbles out of his mouth 

even he seems shocked about his behavior 

catching his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes avoid yours  

his light-washed denim jeans are dirtied from his frenzied movements,, so you reach out a hand to softly brush the dust away and say, “I know.” 

and you do

you know that he’s vigilant of the entire team’s wellbeing 

issuing a final pat on the side of his jeans, you pull away with a quick smile 

his eyes soften at the gesture before he’s placing an encouraging hand on the small of your back as a sendoff, “and be safe, alright?”

-

-

james sunderland

aka: widower of silent hill

“what’re you doing here?” 

the inquiry hisses from james’ mouth as you hastily throw yourself behind a set of lockers 

it’s a narrow, empty space so there weren’t any totems to cleanse or chests to rummage through 

meant to discourage individuals from loitering  

but, lo and behold, your blond teammate is found crouching here 

a shaky exhale escapes your lips and you press a hand over your mouth to minimize the noise before you answer, “running and buying enough time for the others to open the exit gates. what’re you doing here?” 

your words are snappier than you intended but he doesn’t seem to mind because he casually shrugs 

“hiding.” 

and the single word boils your blood 

“we could’ve used your help, you know,” you manage to chastise between hollow breaths 

“I know.” 

and although his light eyes catch the way your brows furrow at his blunt answer, he doesn’t sense the sentiment and instead squats closer to peer out the window 

there’s a small opening that’s perfectly angled toward an exit gate that features three illuminated lights 

it’s powered and ready to be opened 

with his back turned to you, he utters, “I have an idea.” 

there’s a beat of silence and upon not receiving a response from you,, he cranes his neck around to find you already staring at him 

and he’s shocked from your expression 

you’re already frowning at him,, the definition of suspicion in your gaze as you fold your arms across your chest 

“what? don’t worry, I’m not crazy,” his voice dips at the end of his statement, “at least, I don’t think so.” 

james’ fingers reach up to graze the side of his face, twisting away from your scrutiny, and your eyes widen at an observation you haven’t noticed beforehand 

his fingers are trembling 

“hey,” a wave of sympathy hits and you lightly place a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll go first to open the gate. just follow behind me.”

because even if james often acted recklessly or cowardly,, he was still your teammate 

and everyone has a right to secure a chance at surviving the Trial 

after he stiffly nods at your suggestion, the two of you do well at stealthily advancing to the exit gate and only run into trouble when you’re pulling the lever to escape 

a gloved hand grabs onto your forearm, retching you away from the only means of escaping 

and as you’re tugged away, james’ hand immediately shoots out to grab onto yours 

it’s an act of vengeance rather than cowardice 

“stop!” 

james’ vicious command echoes within the barren walls, startling both you and the killer in the process, and he shoves a hand into his jacket pocket 

a distraction 

aiming a flashlight to the killer’s eyes, james ushers you to escape first before he shouts, “and leave us both the hell alone!” 

it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound so alive 

he’s brimming with vigilance as his grasp on your hand tightens with newfound fervor 

and as the both of you sprint out of the realm,, you’re too preoccupied from thanking him for saving you that you overlook how his gaze softens when he notices you’re safe and uninjured 

surprisingly, he continues holding your hand until the two of you are situated back at the campfire

-

-

quentin smith

aka: resolute dreamwalker

“we’ve got this. relax.” 

quentin’s soft voice is barely audible over the rapid beating of your heart that thwarts your ability to hear if the killer was approaching 

the panic is setting in 

fortunately, the match was nearing to an end,, a promising conclusion that’s typically followed by being ushered to surround the campfire once again 

relief was common in these circumstances 

it was, however, short-lived 

the end of the match snowballed– spiraling into an uncontrollable mess that you were uneasy about 

hatch, another means of escaping the Trial, was already closed 

hook states were distributed amongst the team and you didn’t want to succumb to sacrifice

that was the worst outcome,, a psychological and emotional damage that was irreversible 

a shaky breath leaves your lips before a gentle hand grasps your forearm 

“we’re gonna be alright.” 

his touch is soothing, warm, and reassuring 

your wide eyes connect with his as he repeats the sentiment 

without exception, quentin continually proves to you that he’s one of the most dependable teammates the Entity could’ve given you 

which doesn’t help with the foolish crush you have on him

his thumb earnestly brushes against your inner wrist, the caress generating warmth to spread within you 

gaze flickering to the necessary task, his other hand yanks the exit gate’s lever down 

incoherent murmurs leave his lips as he counts down the seconds 

time seems to slow 

your heartbeat quickens and the impending sense of doom crashes upon you 

“we won’t make it,” you reproachfully whisper 

your voice gets carried away in a gust of wind 

he’s silent,, working on opening the exit gate, the lights flashing to indicate its progress, before he speaks up, “we’re gonna make it.”

despite the odds, he’s determined 

and when he feels your scrutiny on him, quentin cheekily adds, “okay, look. if we survive then I’ll take you out on a real date.” 

the words spill out of his mouth before he can rationalize it and the significance forces his eyes to widen in bewilderment 

“uh,” the awkward noise gets stuck in his throat, “sorry, that was uncalled for–” 

his candid apology is cut off by your muffled gasp and when his eyes swivel to you,, you hurriedly turn away from him 

funnily enough, the embarrassment of quentin acknowledging your feelings towards him is almost a bigger dilemma than escaping the Trial 

he raises a dark brow and ventures to ask, “unless, you’d like that?”

his inquiry sounds awkward but sensitive– characteristics that are synonymous to quentin  

and you’re inwardly grateful for his prowess at powering the only chance of escape because you implore, “the date thing, is that a promise?” 

there’s a beat of silence and you wonder if the dreamwalker had fallen asleep,, a phenomenon that he typically fights against 

but he’s awake 

he blinks– once, twice, three times– not quite believing his luck before the exit gates open with a puff of ashen smoke 

survival is so close 

freedom is so close 

and he's going to get you out of here

his hold on you gingerly tightens as he shoots you a grin and confesses, “promise.” 

-

-

vittorio toscano

aka: endless wanderer

moonlit nights by the campfire were infrequent but welcomed 

a tranquil hush fell over the group that was gathered there,, doing well by replacing the eeriness with serenity and giving rest to those that needed it 

it’s a controlled environment– the Entity granting a grace period, if you will– to prepare for the next Trial

until you were chosen  

which is exactly why you’re crouched over, whispering to vittorio and pleading to learn more about your current predicament 

“you’ve been here that long?” 

with an assured nod, he allows the nonverbal gesture to demonstrate the truth in his words 

because although he didn’t appear to be the oldest out of all the individuals you’ve seen, the hardness in his gaze reveals otherwise 

he’s seen it all and, notably, remembers it all too 

his hand comes up to card through his silvery hair before he quips, “can’t you tell?” 

and at your muffled giggle, the male shifts closer while lifting a knee to stretch out on the dirt ground

scarlet flames tauntingly lick the logs of wood and the blaze illuminates the lines etched on his face 

allows you to openly stare 

understands to remain silent to let you formulate your thoughts or questions 

politely beckons you to approach him and you take advantage of his lack of attentiveness to study him 

there are trinkets that hang around his neck,, chunks of sterling silver and gems are pressed into pendants that are almost blinding in the fire’s glow 

“and,” your curiosity drives you to point at the symbols marking his skin, “do these have any meaning?” 

the inscriptions have left you wondering about their significance after every Trial 

you catch a glimpse of the symbols hidden underneath his cotton tunic whenever he sprints or jumps far distances

and of course, you’re instantly drawn to them 

they’re mysterious and swirl in unknown patterns that are far from any language you’ve seen 

the ink glows cerulean blue and, with a bated breath, your fingers outstretched to acquire a better look 

he utters a noise of permission and explains, “helps me remember any similarities or differences that I see while searching through the Realms. I wouldn’t want to forget them.” 

and although his reasoning is sound,, he isn’t 

because you’re abruptly moving to kneel beside him to tug at the front of his shirt  

ghosting your fingertips across the markings, he exhales shakily and you instantly pull your hand away 

“sorry! I got carried away,” you sheepishly grin after apologizing, “it’s just pretty.” 

and goodness, he desires to blurt out that you’re only describing yourself 

his pale eyes sweep across the entirety of your face before settling on your lips and answers, “it’s fine. do not worry.” 

but vittorio’s so distracted by the soft curve of your smile that it doesn’t even register that you’re waving farewell to him when you’re shortly called into a Trial 

and his years of endless wandering have taught him a few certainties– that he’ll meet you again 

calling out from over his shoulder, he keenly promises, “I shall look forward to our next meeting!” 

#dead by daylight #dbd #james sunderland #quentin smith x reader #vittorio toscano #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight x you

[lukabitch]

Hey can i ask for quentin smith best friend headcannons? ty!! :)

Quentin is another fav of mine. Definitely bestie material. Sorry if it’s a bit short. Thank you so much for the request Anon! :)

Tw: none just very fluffy.

Quentin is probably the first friend you’d make. He’s just a very approachable guy.

At first he’s just a bit indifferent but would warm up to you.

It would take awhile granted but it’s hard to blame him.

He’ll be super awkward about things acting a bit robotic.

Though this man would throw himself in the way of danger.

Don’t try and scald him about it he’ll just do it again.

I feel like he barks. He does it mostly as a joke but he barks.

You found him asleep on a hook one time. It was a very weird trial.

He can and will scare you.

If you two share a cabin he will probably ask for cuddles.

He just loves physical contact with anyone.

What can I say the boy is touched starved.

Pillow. Forts.

He can be very childish at times. Childish like he wants to play games.

This man just loves to have semi spa days. Just you and him hanging out and talking.

The benefits of being his friend is endless. I mean free med kits right?

He’s just glad to have a friend. :)

#dbd #dead by daylight #request #dbd headcanons #dbd x gn reader #quentin smith #quentin smith x reader #quentin smith x gn reader #just let my boy sleep #look at him he so sleepy

[sleepy-quentin]

Freddy told me to tell you that you stink/j

Murder. The plan is murder krueger -quentin

#dbd rp blog #slasher fanart #dbd #dead by daylight #dbd x reader #slasher #dbd rp #slashers #slasher ask blog #ask me things #ask blog #my art #nightmare on elm street #nightmare on elm street 2010 #quentin smith #quentin smith fanart #quentin smith x reader #freddy krueger #freddy krueger 2010

[whatthefuckisoatmeal]

Devoted Quentin Smith

As we know, Quentin Smith is one hell of a fighter, with strong loyalty and an altruistic spirit. But the extent to which that goes? Boundless. Buckle up, because this is gonna be a long ass post. In Quentin’s lore, it is stated that he wanted to defeat Freddy before “Nancy is lost”. He is not afraid to fight for his love. Quite a sigma chad move. But, it goes deeper. Since the Entity initially took notice of him for his hatred for Freddy, and the demon himself was dragged along, it implies one thing: that Quentin won. After all, his one desire was to save Nancy, even at the cost of his own life. Even if he was whisked away to an endless cycle, doomed to die over and over again, he took Freddy to hell with him. That’s all that matters. Even when he arrives at the campfire, his first thought was to help the others escape the Entity’s game. This means he would be endlessly devoted to protecting you if he was your boyfriend. Here’s a little something I cooked up based on this idea: Quentin is with you, running through the fog in the crucial climax of a trial, Krueger himself hot on your heels. His claws swish, slicing clean through the air. Quentin uses a trick he learned from David to dodge the attack, though his blood is draining fast and his skin is pale. Freddy curses as his strike misses and the two of you race towards the open gate. Your lungs are burning. All you can feel is the pounding of your shoes against the dirt and your shirt sticking to your stomach with the blood spilling out. You hear Quentin behind you, whimpering in pain and fear. He’s putting himself between you and Freddy.

At last you reach the gates. Freddy’s still on top of you, the ground is splitting open, you’re not gonna make it in time, you’re not gonna- Something pushes you forward by your shoulders. You turn, and time is slowing down as Quentin is pushing you out of the gate, Freddy’s claws are raised, and there’s nothing you can do except look on in shock. Quentin’s eyes are glowing with a fierce light as he takes the hit straight across his back, knocking him to the ground as he lets out a cry of agony that makes your stomach twist. He sacrificed himself for you, letting himself be killed at the hands of his abuser because he can’t bear to see you be taken by him.

As Freddy wraps his hand around Quentin’s waist to hoist him up, the usually stoic and quiet boy looks at you briefly with a reassuring gaze, as if telling you that he’s gonna be alright. The moment is over quickly, and he goes back to a cold stare, seething with rage as he dangles limply from Freddy’s shoulder. You turn and limp towards the campfire with one arm holding your stomach, stopping the bleeding until Claudette can patch you up. With watering eyes, you tell yourself that he’ll be back soon, and he is.

When he stumbles out of the fog in a daze, he immediately goes to you, rambling, “I had to do it. I didn’t want him to hurt you. I’ve been hurt by him so many times, I don’t care anymore. I was protecting you.” He quiets down after a while of you comforting him, and ends up drifting off into a fitful sleep, but makes a promise in his mind before he falls unconscious. He may get stabbed, hooked, bludgeoned and beaten, but every single time, he’d rather it be him than you. (A/N: so how was it? this is pretty self-indulgent and i wrote this from 5am-6am, but i feel like it’s alright. my fellow quentin simps are gonna go insane for this one, IM LOOKING AT YOU HEX. YOU TOO CHAOS, DON’T ACT LIKE I DONT SEE YOU TOO.)

#gay little thoughts #dead by daylight #dbd #quentin smith #dbd quentin #anoes #anoes 2010 #quentin smith x reader #dbd x reader #dbd survivor x reader #dbd survivor

[stumacherstan]

Please take your time for when you are able to write this, but I'd like to just request heacanons for cuddling with Quentin?

Quentin Smith Cuddling Headcanons:

okay so i headcanon him as awkward first

like boy is not use to sleeping with somebody so for the longest you were his backpack (spooning him)

and then slowly it became legs being entangled together

then hand holding with cuddling

and became him spooning you and holding you closely

he would wake up if you moved away from slightly and pull you back to him

since it took you time to adjust to him being the biggest cuddler

there’s definitely some soft music playing with white noise while you guys are cuddling

sometimes he’ll wake up throughout the night and just stare at you while caressing your face

he loves cuddling with. he’s use to it and can’t imagine it any other way

#quentin smith #nightmare on elm street #quentin smith x reader #quentin smith headcanons #survivors #final boy

[aeviiteernal]

I loved your trapper fluff and wanted to ask if you could so some survivor reader x platonic quentin?

Quentin Smith

Dealing with a creepy dream demon that would bring him to the Entity's Realm was not on his bucket list. Though hey, at least he was not entirely alone.

You were a new survivor, struggling to figure out and learn the ropes. Thankfully you had Quentin to help show you around!

With learning his perks and getting survival tips, you two became good friends rather quickly.

He would go on and talk about his tales and encounters with Freddy.

At least you understood why he refused to sleep.

Despite that, you two always looked out for one another. Even in matches where you two end up together you're the support duo, trying your damn best to get everyone out.

You guys have matching friendship bracelets. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

Even when trials get tough, killers get more brutal and cruel, you guys always look after one another. After all, what else can you do?

#quentin smith #dbd quentin #dbd x reader #dbd imagines #dbd headcanons #dbd x you #dead by daylight x reader #dbd quentin x reader #quentin smith x reader

[supercap2319]

Y/N walked up to Quentin's locker with a smile on his face. "Hey."

Quentin looks at him. "Hey. What's up?"

"Listen, I was wondering if you'd like to hang out tonight? Movies and ice cream." Y/N asked hopefully.

"Tonight? God, I wish I could, but I'm going over to Nancy's." Quentin said.

"Again? Jesus, you might as be paying rent there at how much you spend over there." Y/N huffed.

"Don't be jealous. We'll hang out this weekend. Promise." Quentin adjusted his beanie.

"That's what you said last week and the week before that. You know what? Forget it." Y/N walked off angrily towards his next class as he bumped into the hall monitor. "Where's your pass?"

"Screw your pass!" Y/N stomped angrily down the hallway as Quentin shut his locker and sighed.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #kyle gallner #quentin smith #Quentin smith x male reader #a nightmare on elm street #nightmare on elm street

[yanderedbdimagines]

Can you do something for yandere quentin who's obsession is afraid to sleep at night so they'll come to awkwardly ask if they can sleep with him bc they're scared and tired from being pulled into more trials than usual? Love your blog btw and I hope you're taking care of yourself :)

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Thank you for liking my blog! And I’m lucky to inform that I’m doing well. 😊 So no worries on that part! I really like this idea, so I made it a short scenario at the very least.

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Quentin Smith

The survivor encampment was silent and still, the only sound coming from the occasional rustling of the leaves in the surrounding trees. Most of the survivors were huddled inside their tents, either trying to catch some sleep or preparing offerings for the trials that were sure to come. Quentin, however, had found a spot by a lonesome tree a little ways away from the center of the camp where he could read in peace. The bonfire's light didn't reach that far, but the Entity had provided unextinguishable torches that cast a warm glow over the area.

As he read, Quentin couldn't help but notice how thick the fog had become, obscuring even the eternal moon from view.

The Entity’s pleased.

Quentin bites the inside of his lip in anger and frustration.

The trials had been more frequent and intense lately, and the negative energy from the survivors was palpable. Some had even been forced to run trials back-to-back with no time to rest in between. Quentin knew the toll this took on the mind and body; it was an experience he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. Let alone upon the person he currently loves most.

Just then, he saw a familiar figure approaching him.

You drew nearer and Quentin could see the fear and lack of sleep etched onto your face. He felt his jaw clench for but a second.

He put down his book and waited patiently as you gathered your thoughts after you’d stopped in front of him, looking more so at his hands than at his face.

"Quentin, I-I-," you began, hesitating. Quentin remained silent, sensing that you needed time to find the right words.

Finally, you took a deep breath and spoke. "Is it alright if I sleep by your side? I-I can't really sleep alone anymore. The nightmares have been getting worse since I've been forced to run more trials than usual." As mentioned before; you’re scared and tired, made prevalent by the deep bags that are hanging from below your lower eyelids and the low-spirited haze that’s casted over your eyes. 

Quentin nodded, understanding all too well the toll that the trials could take on a person's mental health. You settle down against his side, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, offering comfort and support.

As you settled in for the night, you began to open up about your experiences with each and every trial you’ve had thus far. You spoke of how you noticed how your memories had been fragmented and distorted by the Entity's influence, with clear memories of pain and fear but hazy recollections of the details. You knew which killer had taken your life and how, but the memories were incomplete, as if snipped away with complete disregard.

"That's what scares me," you admitted. "I know we've been through so many trials, but it's like the Entity is wiping the slate relatively clean after every death. It's like we're not even supposed to remember what happened to us."

Quentin listened quietly, his grip on you tightening. He too had felt the effects of the Entity's power, the way it distorted reality and played with the survivors' minds. But he also knew that the survivors were stronger than the Entity gave them credit for. They had each other, and that was something the Entity couldn’t easily take away. Not as long as it wants to instill a certain kind of hope within them. This includes the two of you.

"It's okay to be scared," Quentin said softly. "But remember, you're not alone. You have me, and we're in this together. We'll get through it, no matter what."

You nodded a bit weakly and snuggle closer to Quentin before closing your eyes. Even still, he could feel that it was hard for you to fall asleep by the way you moved. His words weren't enough...

But when you finally did fall asleep, perhaps for the first time in a long time, he felt himself relax as well. In comparison, the warm glow of the torches provided a little comfort. Yet to him, you served as the reminder that even in the darkest mists, there was still even a bit of solace to be found. Even if it's just for a moment.

If only he could make it last forever instead...

#dbd #dead by daylight #quentin smith #nightmare on elm street #yandere #dbd x reader #reader insert

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The second day

warning : Minors don't interact please this is really not for you. This is a dark fanfiction the whole thing is Dead Dove : Do not eat content , Mental Instability , blood & violence , kidnapping , sexual assault , rape , threesome , blood kink , obsession , unjury , Predator/prey , Angst , smut , Jealousy , dark themes , sexual fantasy , knife play , just the normal hardcore Slasher things

Again please if you can't or don't want to read this content please don't. The whole thing is just dark and not for kids. Last warning

Chapter Summary : Trapped in the Asylum you have to deal with old friends as well as sins and truths from the past. If there are not 10 murderers but eleven, this does not bode well. Especially not if the eleventh is an alien with red hair and a search for fear.

next chapter , masterlist

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I knew that as soon as I would wake up, they would fall upon me. Whether all or one after the other no longer mattered. I had my dream loneliness in my dream even if this was no longer mine.

The darkness was broken and replaced by an elementary school. Not again I thought as I recognized the school. I knew that Freddy would not let me have a nice dream. But that it would happen so quickly worried me. He's probably mad that he was interrupted by Eddie. He's coming to finish what he started. Slowly and uncertainly, I walked toward the school. I knew I had no chance against the dream demon himself. Sighing, I walked into the school and saw children, children who looked horribly disfigured. Torn clothes, chopped off limbs, eyeless holes in their heads and a seemingly endless rain of ash. I did not want but something pulled me into the basement. Something I knew that if I didn't go, violence would come. On the way there I was looked at by the sad eyes of the children. ,,Please, Miss, you can't leave him alone with me. He will do it again behind closed doors, please don't" the children begged me.

With guilt inside, I left them behind and went down the stairs to the cellar. The basement that opened up to me was different from what I remembered. I knew for sure that it was actually brick walls and not hot pipes with steam coming out of them. There it was again a sound of metal. Which caused sparks and a dark dirty perverted laugh.

,,My little Y/N, at last you're here again. I've missed you, I've missed our playtime together" she heard the man murmur in her ear. Before a surprisingly cool tongue was passed over my neck. Followed by a presence that radiated heat in contrast. ,,Leave it Freddy, I want a quiet dream please" I tried to convince him. He wrinkled his forehead as he was in his human form and actually succeeded. ,,But why? Your dreams and nightmares were all so...so incredibly exciting," he purred, coming towards me with his bladed glove. I knew it, of course every child knew it in Springwood. I knew it too, even though I had only spent my teenage years in the city.

Before my parents moved away with me, but the dreams never left me. I knew that if he caught me and if he intended to kill me, it would be my turn. Then my lifeless body would die on the old, filthy, angular bed and they would probably get rid of my corpse. I shook off the horrible thought and ran on. ,,Oh, I see we are playing catch. Let me add more little ungrateful children who didn't listen to Uncle Freddy," I heard his angry voice. That was a problem Freddy, like most of my killers, had two sides. On the one hand, he could just be a pervert and enjoyed making his victims insecure and careless. On the other hand, when he was aggressive, he was so much more dangerous. You can still barely humiliate him and he kills you in cold blood within seconds. And then you would be his.

I ran and ran but when I bumped into two people I staggered slightly. When I blinked and saw who was standing there, tears of joy and vomit of disgust came up. There stood Quentin and Nancy, two children I knew well. I had met both of them in elementary school where I had worked as a chaperone for the children. Then we saw each other again in school I was two years above them. There was something between the three of us that I don't want to deny.

Even though we hadn't slept together, we were kind of soul mates. Quentin loved Nancy and I loved them both. It was relatively complicated. But now, as my two friends and former lovers stood before me, my heart was torn. ,,He got you, didn't he? I'm sorry, I should have been there, I should have," I tried to apologize to both of them. Qentin's eyes were darker than before and blood was running from his nose, which wouldn't stop flowing and wetting his shirt. Nancy also looked at me with dark eyes.

She was wearing a dress and had several cuts and scratches on her body. That's how they died, went through the girl's head. ,,Yes, he did, we thought we could defeat him. For a moment everything was fine. But in reality, we never went home. Nancy never woke up from her artificially induced dream. And I -" Quentin interrupted himself briefly and smiled bitterly. ,,I could not do anything, the adrenaline had not worked as it should. Nancy managed to bring Freddy back to our real world, but Freddy made her have another sleep attack. Then it was time I thought I could kill Freddy and save Nancy but it wasn't so I...Nancy". He finished his sentence and let Nancy talk. Quentin lowered his head and looked down traumatized and on the verge of a seizure. The girl who had once been so full of eagerness and hope and strength was only a shell. ,,He thought, we thought if Quentin would defeat Freddy we would be free, free from the nightmares. But it did not happe

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Looking back at Quentin and Freddy

,,Nancy, for God's sake, wake up, please," the teeanger shouted at his girlfriend.

But she remained motionless on the old, angular and stuffy mattress. He was already sick of the pictures, those damn pictures they had found brought the vomit back down his throat.

He already had the broken piece of the paper cutting machine in his hand. Nervously, he twitched every now and then and tapped his foot on the floor.

Only when the watch on his wrist beeped did his mood change to desperate. He ruffled his hair and cursed. I have to do it he reminded himself in his head and pulled out the syringe with the adrenaline.

,,Please Nancy wake up!" he yelled at her one last time before jamming the syringe into her chest. Tearing her eyes open, the girl jumped up. She said nothing and the second she brought Freddy into the real world passed. Quentin saw the grateful, loving and determined expression before she closed her eyes in exhaustion. The teenager saw the momentary confusion and curiosity in Freddy. Almost uncertainly, the demon looked around and even seemed pleased.

When his dark eyes moved from Nancy to Quentin, the boy swallowed. ,,Oh my sweet little Quentin. You really thought you were safe in your world?" he said in an amused tone and laughed lightly.

,,You two are still just children". Quentin automatically took a step back out of fear, out of his experiences. The blade trembled in his hand and suddenly the teenager felt as if it was all just a bad dream. ,,Oh, believe me, if you think this dream is bad, wait and see," he heard Freddy say through his heightened heartbeat. When Quentin's eyes flew to Nancy and quickly back to the demon, he was gone. ,,What the!" but he had not been paying attention. That one second was enough for the Demon to get into Quentin's head.

But everything remained the same for the teenager, everything in front of him remained the same. Unsure of what was going on, he approached Nancy and began to shake the girl awake. ,,Nancy, come on, wake up, we need to get out of here, come on," the boy was cut off as someone choked him. ,,I'm your girlfriend from now on". With that, Freddy emerged from Nancy and lifted the kicking teenager up.

With a force Quentin would not have expected, Freddy threw the teenager onto another mattress on the floor. Dazed by both the impact and his condition, Quentin had no chance to escape. He tried to scramble away but when he felt something wet on the mattress he panicked.

Confused, he tried to get free, but shock was written in his eyes when he heard Freddy's voice. ,,No, no please," it dawned on Quentin what the demon was up to. ,,Oh, my poor Quentin. You have always overreached yourself. But you know, I've learned a few things too," Freddy said, bending down to Quentin. The teenager was held by bloodied hands. ,,You know, it's true that Nancy was my favorite, always so happy to play with me. But you oh you wanted more. No attention from daddy and no mother. But you needed something, someone to tell you that you were worth something. And oh my how you begged me to love you" Freddy purred as he ran his blades over Quentin's cheek. The boy felt himself starting to hyperventilate, everything inside him was screaming, screaming for the nightmare to end. ,,But now, now you can feel loved again my Quentin."

The lifeless body of the boy lay abused on the mattress. Cuts, cracks, bites, scratches, bruises and pieces of skin were visible next to and on the body. The former lively eyes were dull and you could see that the boy had cried. The clothes he once wore hung loosely on his naked form. A sad sight. ,,Q-Quentin?" Nancy was heard to say faintly as she slowly woke up. Her vision was slightly blurred, so she couldn't quite make out the abused form. It was only when she fell out of bed and crawled towards Quentin that she saw what had happened to her friend. Bile and an acrid smell instantly filled the room as the girl threw up.

With tears and sobs she turned away from Quentin and heaved herself back as far as she could. ,,Little Nancy, now I have you to myself. We're going to have a lot of fun for a long time" was the last thing she heard before her worst nightmare began.

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By the time the two had finished talking I had had to sit down more than once. And more than once I had to throw up, it was indescribably cruel. ,,Are you suffering now? Does he hurt you?" I asked carefully and stood up again.

They shook their heads, No, not all the time, sometimes when he's sick, but not like this anymore. We are more prisoners than prey. I was about to start again when the two seemed to feel something. ,,Y/N ru-" I saw Quentin say before the two disappeared in a torrent of blood. ,,Oh shit!" I continued to run again through the factory-like terrain. ,,They told you, didn't they? Oh, how they had both screamed and pleaded. That puts you in the mood, don't you think, my sweet little Y/n?" I heard Freddy's voice before he sat up in blood in front of me. I backed away and thought I had room to maneuver, but I had forgotten about Freddy's powers. In the middle of the wall I automatically fell onto the bed due to the edge of it.

Images of my imagination flashed and panic seized me. ,,No, I beg you, if you do that then - then the others will kill you. If you want to marry me you will have to wait until the wedding" I tried to intimidate him.

Freddy stopped in surprise before a grin revealed his pointed teeth and he burst out laughing. ,,Oh my innocent little Y/n. You want to be innocent, you forget that according to the church you have to be a virgin. Oh, and you know as well as I do that you haven't been for a long time. I admit I was guilty of it too but it was your lust in your years of discovery you seduced yourself. Believe me I know what was deep at night in your room that drove your fingers inside you slowly and deeply to fill that void because you knew you could not. I still remember how you begged-.".

,,Shut up, shut the fuck up, fuck you. Everything is your fault, it's your fault you ruined me!" I yelled at him. Again he grinned and moved towards me. ,,You know your mouth says no, but the clenching of your thighs says something else" he chuckled and slowly drove towards me with his blades. I had not noticed, had I really pressed my thighs together? Sick you are sick I heard myself and despair arose in me. I tried to crawl away but those red bloody hands would not let me go.

I squinted my eyes and hoped he would finally start so it could be done faster.I felt the breath of air as he ran his blade over me. ,,This is going to be bloody," he purred, and I could feel his presence right above me. But when I opened my eyes, he had stopped. Shocked and relieved, I looked at him. He seemed to hear something, but I only heard my heartbeat, which was going much too fast.

The grin on his face disappeared and was replaced by an angry one. ,,You, you disgusting spawn of the universe, she is mine here. You can't have her. You should be thankful for the last six or have you already broken her so much that it's boring?" Freddy snapped at someone in particular. All of a sudden Freddy was gone, dissolved in blood.

At that moment I woke up with a deep breath. My chest rose and fell from the experiences in my dream. I wanted to get up but the jingling of the chain reminded me that this was hardly possible. But when I tried to get up, the chain was longer. Filled with hope, I quietly and slowly got out of bed. The tiles were cold on my feet and I got goose bumps.

I walked carefully and after several times I guess I got into almost every corner of the room. ,,Not much, but it's always better than on the bed," I said to myself. I had light only through the oil lamp on the emergency wooden bedside cabinet. It did not light all the corners of the room and made my shadow flicker. I heard a kind of scratching or crawling in the room. My pulse quickened, Calm down, it's not dark. None of the killers are here, everything will be fine I tried to convince myself that everything was fine. But my body betrayed me, my primal instincts betrayed me. I flinched at every possible threat in the dark. I was about to move to the lamp when I heard a ringing.

Confused and even more frightened, I fell into an involuntary stare. I stared into the darkness as a creature ran from there towards me. When I recognized it, I cried out in fear and closed my eyes. Before I knelt down as I did when I was a child and hoped it would not see me. As I squinted my eyes and my whole body was tense, I did not notice the figure in front of me. ,,Oh, what, you don't like clowns?" it giggled and I felt it lurking over me. I was so stupid, if I hadn't opened my eyes then, it might not have gotten worse. When I saw the figure in front of me I felt dizzy for a moment before I really looked at it. It was a clown but something was coming from him, something that told me that under the make-up was not a human being. He had orange hair that seemed tousled and somehow not. His whole body as far as she could see was white like clown makeup. He wore an old clown costume with three red pom-poms that probably held it together.

But what fascinated her were those eyes that initially had a light sky blue tone. However to a beguiling golden shimmer became as she looked at him longer. ,,Oh but human thing you like clowns don't you?" it said and looked curiously into her eyes. I desperately went through everything in my head to find every murderer I could think of. But I knew I wouldn't find anything, I didn't know who was here before me.

My eyes fixed on his for fear he would kill me instantly if I didn't do this. ,,Wh-Who are you?" I stammered the words as my throat tightened. It tilted its head almost in disgust and looked at me attentively as if I had said something wrong. ,,I am Pennywise the dancing clown and you are my human, frightened and extremely well judging being". I however pressed myself only more against the wall behind me. ,,I am Y/n," I answered back curtly. ,,Why does prey need a name?" he thought and had probably overlooked that he thought aloud. At the hand of my disturbed look he grinned. ,,But with something like you, I can make an exception. There will be nothing else but you for a long time. I am not allowed to touch you, they said, but a small drop is not enough"

I didn't understand what he meant and when I wanted to ask, it was too late. Within seconds his mouth had turned into a risky mouth and his gloved hands turned into claws. Out of pure fear I cried out which became a bigger one when I felt a pain. Suddenly the door to the room flew open and my ten tormentors came rushing in. Like a wild, crazed animal, Pennywise turned to face his tormentors. For a brief moment I thought that was it and the clown in front of me was going to chop up and kill everything and everyone in the room.

But instead he turned back to me in his normal form. He opened his mouth slightly and a long tongue covered with viscous saliva licked over the cut on my shoulder. ,,Sweet oh so sweet with fear I need more, I will get more human Y/N" it purred before standing up and disappearing into the shadows of the room. ,,Oh my darling, my darling, what did this brutal creature do to you, you're bleeding. Come on, we'll take care of you and then you can lie down again," I heard Eddie's worried shouts. I was aware of him lifting me up and I could feel the muscles under his old shirt.

We walked out of my room through the halls before I was set down in a hospital wing. It was only then that I realized that besides Eddie, Micheal and Jason had also gone with me. I cramped up again in the cool metal chair as Eddie arrived with more first aid supplies than I could handle. I stiffened even more, hating doctors and everything medical about them, my irrational fear of them. Eddie must have seen my suffering expression. ,,Oh, no, honey. Everything will be fine, this clown won't hurt you again. But you have to be brave for a minute, it's going to sting a little," he said, actually trying to appear trusting. When the alcohol touched the cut I hissed and suppressed further sounds. ,,You're doing a good job, sweetie," I heard Eddie say. But these very words in this tone as he said it caused something completely different. And I hated myself for it only more

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#x reader #slashers #eddie gluskin x reader #eddie gluskin #freddy krueger #freddy kruger x reader #fem reader #quentin smith #mount massive asylum #nightmare #pennywise #pennywise x reader #michael myers x reader #michael myers #friday the 13th #jason vorhees x you #jason vorhees #blood play #blood #tw death #tw rap3

[clairdelunelove]

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

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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

[gatitties]

Nightmares

─ Dbd x gn!teen!reader

─ Summary: you share your worst fears with Quentin in a nightmare night

─ Warnings: none

5 < 6 > 7

You got up suddenly, throwing off the poor sheets that covered you from the cold of the forest, drops of sweat ran down your forehead, you relaxed your erratic breathing with the passing of the minutes while you looked at nothing trying to relax your tense muscles due to a nightmare. Your worst nightmare. You got rid of the thoughts, not wanting to go back to sleep in case that thing came back to haunt your dreams. No, unfortunately it wasn't Freddy, but you'd rather find a singed baldhead than anything else.

You found yourself sitting by the campfire alone with a few stragglers who had messed up schedules or didn't know when it was day or night, not like there was much of a difference in this place either. Quentin was the one who barely left the campfire, despite having his own cabin to sleep in, the light, the fire and the people ─although they didn't speak─ they transmitted to him the tranquility that sleep could not give him due to the fear of being trapped in another nightmare with Krueger.

He seemed to notice how you bounced your leg against the ground repeatedly with anxiety, almost as if he perceived the bad habits that having a nightmare entailed, it was not so rare to see you there at 'night' because your schedules were anything but regular. Glancing over at the others, he didn't see much movement from Bill, who just smoked in silence perhaps remembering old battles. Zarina seemed in her own world and didn't get much chance to talk to her, and Yun-Jin Lee hadn't made a lot of friends at the moment, so Quentin just decided to approach you because he was bored to death and didn't want to end up falling asleep.

"Bad dream?"

"Do I have such a bad face?"

He shrugged his shoulders, clarifying that he knew how to detect people who simply didn't sleep well, whether due to nightmares or postures, it didn't matter, he was like a detector of bad habits when it came to having a good dream.

You got into some small talk about nonsense, Quentin was one of the younger ones and he sort of understood your impulsive and reckless behavior, the only thing he didn't understand was all those weird memes, despite being from a different time not so far from your time he couldn't understanding how a picture of a muscular dog was funny. He was very appreciative that from time to time you lent him your phone to let him listen to some music, of course it was more entertaining than listening to repeated conversations in the camp or the sound of crows.

At a certain point in the night you started to talk about nightmares, you were a morbid and curious shit, although you unearthed some traumas of the poor boy you were fascinated to hear Freddy's murderous ways.

"And on top of that he made it look like a suicide! At least I know in this realm he can't kill me, umh... not permanently or in dreams, I wish I could rest better, anyway, it's not fair that I'm digging up shitty memories, why don't you tell me about your nightmare? Sometimes it helps to talk about those things, you know?"

"Of course I know, Quentin, paying a monthly psychologist isn't exactly cheap, but it's just... it's so terrifying! It's like that thing haunts me even when I'm awake."

You looked down, intertwining your fingers, your eyes closing for a moment as you felt a hand on your shoulder letting you know that he would be there to support you with any of your dream problems.

"Come on, I've told you a lot of murders of my friends, what could be worse than that?"

"Many things..."

"For example?"

"Being canceled on Twitter."

"Wha- Okay, let's focus on your nightmare, what exactly was going on?"

"Well... let me remember..."

 You closed your eyes again, rubbing your temples as if that might bring you back to unconsciousness. You immediately remembered some scenes, a knife stuck in the door of your cabin, a green shape stalking you with big eyes on you, silently judging you as if you had forgotten something.

"My God! I remember now! Th-that thing... it haunted me in my dreams because I skipped my Spanish lesson."

"It's... Is someone chasing you in your dreams for not having attended your Spanish class? Really?"

"It's not that simple-"

Your sentence was cut off due to a 'ping' coming from your phone, you paled at the Green Owl's notification, 'Hi! It's Duo' read no more getting rid of the notification knowing you had skipped a day of your lessons. Quentin squinted at the screen over your shoulder, shook his head in disbelief, grabbing your phone to see what the hell that app was.

"Hey don't use the app, it's the devil! Once you use it you will be cursed."

"It's just a dumb app to learn languages, I don't think it's as bad as facing a murderer who killed all your friends."

"Poor naive... don't say I didn't warn you."

You whispered when you saw how a new lesson of words related to the family began, it was the downfall for Quentin, now he would have two monsters knocking on the door of his dreams, one worse than the other.

Quentin seemed quite entertaining the first few days, but after a few weeks it was quite repetitive, so he stopped asking for your cell phone to focus on other things than his Spanish lessons. Oh poor boy, you met him again another night where you just couldn't sleep and went to the campfire, having hardly anyone decided to sit like a straggler, imitating Jake. Until the boy jumped in front of you with his face full of sweat and pale.

"That damn bird won't stop chasing me while yelling at me 'Spanish or Vanish!' It's worse than I imagined, you have to help me, I was starting to get over Freddy and now this-!"

You put your hands on his shoulders to calm him, you sat him down and stroked his head as it rested on your shoulder, he clung to your arm as if the owl was going to come out from behind any tree to stab him for getting a word wrong.

"It will take a while, but it will go away eventually, for now, bienvenido al grupo, amigo. ¹

"Should I be scared to have understood that?"

"Yeah."

 ¹ Welcome to the group, friend.

#dbd x reader #dbd #teen reader #platonic reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #killersxreader #survivorsxreader #platonic #reader insert #quentin #quentin smith

[deady-nightshade]

About this Blog: Dead by Daylight Edition

This is a rather dark blog. I will write about Killers and Survivors. This blog will NOT contain the following; necrophilia, incest, non-con, or minor/adult content. It WILL/MIGHT contain the following elements; kidnap, murder, blood, gore, morally grey readers, manipulative behaviors, victim mentality, torture, swearing, knives, guns, chainsaws, death, corpses, cannibalism (for writing pertaining to Leatherface), bugs (spiders included), nightmares, dub-con, human sacrifice to The Entity, etc... I will warn you of the story’s elements, like how I already do with my other works.

These are the Killers and Survivors that I feel comfortable writing for; the list will change as I become more comfortable/knowledgeable (please feel free to send requests for other characters — I will research them and get familiar with them). I will try to write the characters as close to the source material as possible, but I will add my own twists and head cannons — there will be some divergence from cannon (seeing how they will be reader inserts).

Also, feel free to send requests. When you do, please specify who you want (Killer or Survivor), the rating, Reader’s gender, and any other tidbits that you want me to include. For example, NSFW Scenario with Ghostface (Danny Johnson) becoming obsessed with F!Survivor who happens to be dating Leon. 

By default, this blog will be F!Reader inserts unless specifically requested. I have never written M x M, or F x F, but I will try my best.

Content Offered

HeadCanons (HC)

Blurbs (500 words or less.)

Scenarioas (word length ranges, but they will have a beginning, middle and an ending, with the possibility of becoming miniseries).

Content Guide (sexual content wise)

🔪 Knife: SFW

🩸 Blood: Soft NSFW (oral sex, fingering, masturbation, etc...)

💀 Skull: Hard NSFW (penetrative sex)

Killers

Ghostface (Danny Johnson/Jed Olsen)

Trapper (Evan MacMillan)

Pyramid Head

Pinhead (Hell Priest)

Wraith (Philip Ojomo)

Legion (Frank, Joey, Susie, and Julie) 

Trickster (Ji-Woon Hak)

Huntress (Anna)

Artist (Carmina Mora 

Blight (Talbot Grimes) 

Survivors 

Leon Scott Kennedy 

Jake Park

Quentin Smith 

David King 

Felix Richter

Meg Thomas

Mikaela Reid 

Kate Denson

Cheryl Mason

Ada Wong 

Feng Min

**I will not write for Michael Myers! I have too many family members named Michael, and using that name in any NSFW content gives me the heebie-jeebies. Nor will I write for Freddie Kruger.**

#dead by daylight #dbd #dbd quentin #quentin smith #dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #trapper x reader #evan macmillan #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #trapper x you #pinhead x reader #pinhead #pinhead x you #wraith #philip ojomo #wraith x reader #legion x reader #legion #dbd legion #dbd ghostface #dbd trapper #dbd trickster #trickster x reader #ji woon hak #dbd huntress #dbd artist #dbd blight

[sleepy-quentin]

Can you give me Freddy’s number?💃🏻🧍🏼 PLEASE QUENTIN! HE STOPPED GOING IN MY DREAMS!! WAAA WWAAAA💔💔💔

Youre odd for wanting him in your dreams too 😟 -quentin

(mf stopped showing up in my dreams too shsjs, i was simply too weird for him to deal with 💅)

#dbd rp blog #slasher fanart #slasher #dead by daylight #dbd #dbd rp #quentin smith x reader #quentin smith #quentin smith fanart #sleepy quentin #freddy krueger 2010 #freddy kruger x reader #freddy krueger #id like to slap freddys bald head with cheese lowkey #Freddy krueger x you #Quentin smith x you #answered asks #slasher ask blog #ask blog

[vwampirex]

I need a good friends to lovers Quentin Smith x reader omg. I'm literally so feral for him. Literally hyperfixated. /srs

#quentin smith #quentinsmithxreader #a nightmare on elm street #dead by deadlight #dead by daylight x reader #dbd survivor #quentin dbd #i'm in love with him