Hey! This is the Masterlist for this blog. Please use the symbols above to get a quick idea of what a fanfic includes. I think they're pretty straight forward! The only one I'll explain is the 'misc' category; basically, this is the category I'm gonna put any headcanons, fics, etc under if they don't lean far enough into one of the other categories, or if they're works unrelated to any sort of shipping. Art will have NSFW or Suggestive in the title if it's anything beyond SFW.
Characters left out of the list are ones I currently don't want to write for. Struck out characters are ones I do intend to write for, but they're too new for me to do so at the moment.
If you'd like to make any requests, please refer to my request rules (link on profile).
Disclaimer | Unless stated otherwise, all of my fanfiction for Deadlock will be written adjacent to the mechanical gameplay. What I mean by that is, the setting will operate under the assumption that the characters have not yet participated in or completed the ritual, and are meeting/interacting on a more casual basis. The existing lore for characters and the world will remain mostly unchanged, but I will often use headcanons and things of the sort to fill in gaps in the lore. Think of these as loose additions as opposed to alterations.
This just gives me a lot more freedom and space to write interesting fanfics, as well as explore the world/characters outside of the in-game objective.
AHHHH YOUR HEADCANONS FOR DOORMAN WERE GREAT!!! i also LOVE your haze hcs as well!! Is it okay if I also paw you a little for some Victor? Curious on your takes regarding him and relationships ^^
Victor Relationship Headcanons
Content Warnings | Mentions of potential for codependency, chronic pain (obviously, look who we're talkin about)
Synopsis | Relationship headcanons for Victor
Word Count | 1.1k
Notes | Sorry for the gap between posts; been a bit burnt out with IRL stuff. Also sorry if this seems OOC, I still am not sure how well I've been characterizing everyone.
Not proofread
âĄď¸ So, I wanna establish how I see Victor, as I think itâll contextualize a lot of these headcanons
âĄď¸ I think Victor has the mental capacity of an adult; he was made with only adult parts, by someone who was likely an adult, and had the intention of creating something with the mental faculties of an adult. So, I think heâs fully able to understand things that an adult would need to be able to understand in order to have a safe romantic life
âĄď¸ He has the physical ability as a regular adult would have. That said, I do think that he is incredibly naĂŻve regarding just about everything. He lacks the experience and knowledge, not the capacity
âĄď¸ Think of it as a regular young adult who is developmentally normal, who was just really really sheltered their whole life
âĄď¸ Because of this naivety, he can sometimes come off as almost childish in some ways
âĄď¸ I think Victor, even despite his circumstances, is pretty emotionally intelligent in a way, all things considered. I also think he has some level of âstreet smartsâ sort of; more so certain instincts and intuition that he listens to
âĄď¸ That said, he can get a bit broody, or almost⌠not quite arrogant, but bullheaded
âĄď¸ Even if he knows what heâs feeling, he will sometimes just refuse to communicate his feelings, and collapses inwards instead of finding healthier outlets for his suffering.
âĄď¸ He will also sometimes become very confident in certain things without being able to see the bigger picture. So like, he might come across a new situation that may seem to have a very straightforward solution, and he will become frustrated that people arenât taking said solution, but he will fail to see surrounding factors that make the âobviousâ answer not actually viable. For example, youâre struggling with bills. Heâd say âJust stop spending so muchâ without understanding why thatâs not as much of a solution as it seems
âĄď¸ Though, he is a quick learner
âĄď¸ When he wants to be, anyways
âĄď¸ Sometimes Victor will have moments where he becomes so impossibly stubborn and grumpy. Itâs not because heâs trying to be a dick, but I mean, câmon; if you were living in constant, horrible pain every single second of every single day with only one thing so far thatâs able to ease said painâŚ
âĄď¸ Youâd probably have your moments too
âĄď¸ He needs someone who is patient, with both his ignorance to the world and his emotional lows. Not someone who babies him; thatâs the opposite of what he needs, actually, but someone who can walk beside him as he takes his learning journey instead of trying to carry him through it
âĄď¸ The right person for him is someone who is not naive, who is patient and compassionate, but is able to set and maintain boundaries, and be honest while remaining kind. Whether theyâre serious, playful, etc doesnât matter as much outside of the aforementioned traits
âĄď¸ Romance is something Victor probably isnât into initially. Heâs not opposed to it, but itâs just not something he thinks of up until starting to develop feelings for someone himself
âĄď¸ Getting into a relationship isnât going to be a quick process. First, because of his ignorance on the topic, itâll take a while before he even begins to think of dating someone being a possibility. In addition, even when or if both parties make their feelings known (and said feelings are mutual), Victor would almost shy away from entertaining that kind of dynamic
âĄď¸ Heâd shy away not because heâs disinterested, but because a lot of the insecurities I think he has would start to surface and get in the way, even though most of them heâd probably hide somewhat well
âĄď¸ Because it would definitely be a friends to lovers situation, I do also see him being terrified of losing a friend that he cares for and trusts deeply enough to have even developed such feelings for. Heâd 100% consider never acting on his feelings if it means possibly ruining the friendship should a relationship not work out and end poorly
âĄď¸ All of that is even more reason why Victor needs someone who is very patient, understanding, and emotionally mature; not only is that needed to keep the relationship going and functional, but itâs needed for him to even consider starting one
âĄď¸ Whenever a relationship does start, itâs gonna be SLOW
âĄď¸ Heâll honestly be a bit more closed off than before the relationship started. Itâll take a while before he starts opening up
âĄď¸ Even when he starts opening up, physical affection will come slower; I see Victor getting very flustered over any type of affection, physical or verbal. He doesnât hate it, but itâs so so new, and he doesnât know how to process the positive feelings he gets shown love like this
âĄď¸ Victor would also get flustered because of a new insecurity heâd develop. He would become worried about not being able to reciprocate affection âcorrectlyâ, and fear that, that would cause his partner to lose feelings or think that he isnât good enough
âĄď¸ Eventually though, with enough reassurance and patience, heâll become more confident and comfortable, regardless of how âwellâ heâs doing things. Even when he doesnât do things âperfectlyâ, heâd start to give this dorky, lopsided grin with a tilt of his head, his hair always covering part of his face the exact same way every time he does it
âĄď¸ When it comes to physical affection, I do think that it would often be on his terms, just because of how heâs constantly in pain. Itâs not that he doesnât ever consider what his partner wants, but in some ways, having such an intimate dynamic with him would be sort of like having a chronically ill partner; one person is just gonna require a bit more care and such more frequently
âĄď¸ His favourite kind of affection, whether physical or not, would be anything that could help ease at least a little bit of his suffering, or distract his mind from it. Doing activities together in and of itself is probably his favourite way of showing affection because of that
âĄď¸ Victor would 100% be very aware of how much his partner does for him, and heâd constantly do small things to show his gratitude. One of the main ways would be turning to them to ask questions, or insisting they teach him something he doesnât know or at least comes along as he learns; itâs his way of acknowledging his partner and wants them included in his life
âĄď¸ So far it might not seem like it, but being patient with him is so worth it; once this guy is locked in, heâs LOCKED THE FUCK IN
âĄď¸ This dude would become so utterly devoted to his partner itâs insane; youâd have to have a conversation or two to make sure he doesnât become unhealthily codependent, but as long as the necessary boundaries are maintained, Victor would become the most loyal of people, and an excellent companion
âĄď¸ Despite all of his pain and suffering, he also has plenty of love and affection to share. It just has to be earned
First of all, I want to say that you became my favourite Deadlock author as of late, and I wanna say thank you for feeding us. The fandom has an âx Readerâ drought, unfortunately.
Second of all, I had a little one shot request for whenever you're free.
Basically, it's a âDrifter x GN!Readerâ Soulmate AU where whenever one of the soulmates eats something, the other gets a craving for it. This is unfortunate for our Reader, because, Drifter literally eats people... Given the fact that our Reader isn't a vampire like him, even the thought makes them nauseous but curious.
After they finally meet each other â maybe the Reader walked in on him munching on some unfortunate soul and got the craving right there â Drifter takes an interest in them because unlike how most would act, they ask him how it tastes.
That's basically what I had in mind! Feel free to add or deduce anything you want!
Have a nice day! đŚ
Cravings | Drifter x Reader
Content Warnings | Blood, meeting a strange suspicious man alone in the dark
Synopsis | Reader's cravings lead them to a chance encounter with everyone's favourite vampire hobo
Word Count | 2.1k
Notes | Not proofread, and sorry for the long wait lmao. Might make a part 2, who knows
Timing couldnât have been better.
The moment you were set to finish with work it hit.
The taste of metal coated your tongue like a heavy blanket, the phantom feeling of gore painting itself along the insides of your oesophagus while the scent of iron crawled its way up your trachea and filled your sinuses. This overwhelming sensation was not new, and yet, it never failed to make you nauseous. Not only that, but you knew the craving would soon follow.
This phenomena was not new either. Ever since you were a teenager you had begun to get these bouts of sickness. At first there were concerns about it being some sort of ailment, but after seeing doctor after doctor and even consulting more âalternativeâ types of practitioners, there was never a psychological or physiological explanation.
When you were reaching the end of puberty, a new symptom arose; following these moments of sickness, youâd crave raw meat and blood. With a new batch of tests, every professional you consulted came up with the same conclusion; the onset of your puberty had established the link between your soulmate, and as it concluded, you finally began to share this destined loverâs cravings, too. This type of development was actually standard, but the nature of your cravings and negative reactions were abnormal.
While this soulmate link was very readily known, doctors didnât tend to pay it much mind, as it wasnât scientifically or medically understood yet. It was more of a spiritual thing, and you had actually had a spiritual healer of sorts suggest this being the cause, and only had your primary doctor medically clear you after you presented them with this possibility.
This had all started a few years ago, and the moments where your senses were overwhelmed didnât ever get easier. They actually got harder to cope with as you reached adulthood.
Tasting such vile things was bad enough, but when you also craved the taste of raw flesh, it made your stomach twist. You had to ignore these cravings, or attempt to satiate them. The issue though, was that none of the meat you had tried so far truly matched what danced on the tip of your tongue.
This left you as curious as you were disgusted.
But, unfortunately for you, you happened to live in a rather large city. Finding your soulmate here would be a challenge, and there wasnât even a guarantee that they also resided in the Big Apple too.
Youâd sat across from too many professionals, hope dashed by yet another polite smile, and the confirmation that nothing was wrong, nothing to fix. The amount of bars, from clean, new and polished to dingy and scuffed that you sat across, brushing hands with strangers, did nothing either. That click, that spark never came. Spiritual mediums could only give vague descriptions, and attending different events centred around locating your one true love had all wound up being fruitless. You were left with only one option.
It had come to you when you looked out your window, watching the maelstromâs dusky green clouds swirl around the tower in the city.
The ritual would be the perfect place to rid yourself of this problem; either end the overwhelming cravings or bring your soulmate to you. That was your plan, and you only had to endure this torment for another little while; the ritual would begin in less than two weeks.
For the next several days you focussed on preparing, and occupying your mind. Participating in the ritual wouldnât be easy, and while you probably wouldnât stay dead were you to perish, who knew what other things could happen or go wrong?
The worries and doubts started to plague your mind more and more as the time drew near.
When they even began to disturb your sleep, leaving you tossing and turning, a restless mess just thrashing about your bed, you decided to get up; take a walk to clear your mind.
The night was cool and crisp, the damp pavement reflecting the multi coloured glows from all the different lights that kept the city alive well after the sun had set.
You tucked your hands onto pockets, hardly paying attention as you wandered the streets. Your mind wandered just as your body did, but took its own, far off path, full of worries, doubts, concerns. The last thing you wanted to think about was this dilemma you had been stuck with, but the longer you walked, the more those thoughts plagued your mind.
It felt like you were walking closer to the problem, when all you wanted was to be rid of it. Did the strange nature of the cravings capture your curiosity? Sure, but they were just so overbearing and insatiable.
The sound of your foot hitting something brought you out of your spiral, and casting your gaze forward, you found yourself at a hardly used scrapyard that sat at the edge of the city. It was more like an old train yard, old train cars and left over railway junk left abandoned to rust, exposed to the elements.
Continuing forward was unwise; taking a late night walk in such a city was questionable enough as it was, but at least there you had the luxury of streetlights and other city denizens up and about at this time. Here, all you had was the distant city glow and the moon.
Oh! And the tiny emergency flashlight on your keychain.
You pulled out your keys, having to smack the little flashlight against your palm before it flickered to life. It wasnât much, but reflecting off of the dulled metals scattered about, it was enough.
Why you felt compelled to venture further wasnât something that crossed your mind as you poked around the left over scrap and objects. The main thing you were focussed on was not contracting tetanus or getting attacked by some overgrown rat.
The deeper you wandered the quieter it became, while every ambient noise sounded louder when it would break through the silence. The place felt like a metal graveyard, the odd sounds of groaning metal almost sounding alive, and shadows of twisted, jagged sheets of steel looming within the shadows. Those were the only sounds and sights that kept you company; no distant hum of traffic, no late night chatter on the breeze. Just the thick, suffocating stillness that pressed in on your ears and weighing heavy on your shoulders.
Then it hit again. Harder.
Your breath caught mid step as that simultaneously familiar and foreign metallic tang flooded your mouth. The already violent intrusion felt so much worse; the scent of iron didnât just fill your throat and sinuses, but warmth danced on your tongue. The feeling of meat tearing between teeth felt so real.
A sharp, involuntary gasp tore from your lungs as a knee planted painfully into the coarse gravel and your hand shot to your mouth, but no amount of squirming could alleviate the situation. If anything, writhing in your place made it worse.
The craving came soon after, all consuming, making your teeth ache.
It all felt far too close, closer than it ever had before. The weak beam of your flashlight flickered as it jittered across rusted metal and broken railcars. Every instinct told you to turn back, to leave; run and pretend you never came. But your feet didnât turn back. Instead, the moment you could muster the composure to rise from the ground they carried you forward.
It wasnât long until there was a new sound, more organic than the twisted noises of the scrap around you. This sound was wet, soft, punctuated by low, uneven breaths that didnât sound quite right. They echoed between the hollow shells of abandoned train cars, guiding you like a thread you couldnât help but follow.
The beam of your flashlight skimmed along the side of a derailed car, catching on something dark smeared along the metal. It was fresher than the smell of the worn metal; iron, the smear stilly glossy across the rust. As the light continued to trail along, it eventually settled on something else. Darker, absorbing the light instead of reflecting it unlike the sheen of light on metal.
At first it didnât fully register. Your mind tried to piece together the scene before you; the hunched shape, unnatural stillness of the body sprawled in the darkened, wet gravel, the way broad shoulders moved with each pullâŚ
Each bite.
It took longer than it should have for you to register the face that the movement had stopped and brilliant red eyes fixed themselves on your form. Even when you caught its gaze, it didnât hit you to run. Well, somewhere in your mind it had; the primitive, deep part of your mind that had evolved over millions of years specifically to give you the instincts needed to keep you alive screamed at you; run, survive. But, that new world, almost supernatural urge to satiate this otherworldy connection yelled louder, screeching at you so to stay so loudly that to swallowed all other noise into a static abyss.
Red staining his face, soaking his beard and even crawling down his neck and chest registered, but didnât draw you from your trance. Seeing blood soaked teeth, with fangs far larger than any humanâs, revealed as his lips curled into a wicked smile startled you, yes, as did the massive clawed hands that still dripped, but none of it could overcome the unmistakable pull.
Drifter had been so entranced with his meal that it wasnât until someone was close that he noticed them. Way too close. Still, he kept his composure, movements carrying that eerie smoothness only something as old and inhuman as himself could come close to perfecting. His usual grin danced on his blood soak lips as he rose and towered above the person who had so rudely interrupted his evening meal.
But, something felt⌠off. The corners of his mouth twitched as he contemplated the strange pull that he felt. Before he could utter a word though, the seemingly stunned mortal before him broke the silence.
âWhatâs it really taste like?â Their voice was quiet but clear, fear swirling with curiosity in their eyes and scent, cutting through the smell of blood in the air. It finally made his smile fall, more confusion filling his head. He recovered quickly, though, smile returning as he took a step closer to this odd individual. They took an awkward shuffle backwards, but didnât take a full step, nor did they turn to flee.
âOh, cher,â a low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he ran his tongue along his fangs. âIt tastes so much better than what I could even describe.â He drug out the last syllable, words dripping from his mouth like the blood that silently slid from his hands and into the gravel.
As they stared at him, eyes beginning to flicker between him and the corpse behind him while they gaped like a fish out of water searching for more words, something in the distance made his ear twitch. He rested his giant hands firmly on their shoulders, blood having mostly, but not entirely, dried on his palms by now. He turned them, and leaned close to their ear from behind. âRun along now, darlin. Other things be lurkin in the shadows, and we wouldnât want no⌠incidents happenin, now would we?â
He felt them startle, like they had snapped back to reality. but, instead of fear rightfully overtaking them, they seemed more⌠outraged?
âW-what? Wait, no! I finally- Youâre the damn thing thatâs been making me crave⌠that!â They turned to look over their shoulder, nodding their head towards the corpse growing colder and colder on the ground. âI just found you, Iâm not just screwing off now! Do you know how big of a pain in the ass these shit cravings have been for me-â They began to squirm and writhe, but his grip was unrelenting.
âWell ainât you interestin. How âbout this, little one; you scurry off back from where you came, and you can chew me out later. Otherwise, you mightnât get the chance.â His fingers drummed along their shoulders as he pushed them away slowly. The rumble in his voice as he urged them away held a new edge, the kind you hear from someone who knows something you donât; something dangerous.
If they really wanted answers, theyâd have to trust that he would make good on his offer of âlaterâ. And, hopefully they caught on, as they stumbled a few steps away, looked back, and then, with a small huff, took off, back towards the bustling city.
âWhat a strange thing.â Drifter muttered to himself while they left, only to shake the thought away.
He could ponder what all of that meant later. For now, he had a far less interesting interruption to deal with.
