Dead By Daylight [OneShots]

The Nemesis X Reader (P2)

Requested by Azureman136 and Fandoms_freak1.

No matter what, Nemesis deserves all the love for being our favorite spooky-doo Freak ;).

Enjoy!

~

It wasn't usual for the big bioweapon of a brute to deal with a clingy creature. Surely he was used to being a tall wall in which his rather mindless crackhead minions walked into. Last time, this brainless freak stood facing the wall for whole fucking trial, and when it had finally decided to move, Nemesis was to be graced with frequent bumps.

But this time, it was different. This little creature had a brain that worked. And this creature definitely didn't keep bumping into him or the walls.

She obviously got her tasks done. She was a useful teammate, she aided the fallen ones, got the generators fixed, prepped up the doors and rushed to her ailing comrades whenever they needed her help. She was far intelligent than his undead army that kept lunging at nothing, grasping merely thin air and gawking at the survivors before they finally realized they were meant to hunt them, not stare at them like a walking freak shows half of them were.

Seriously, when you're running for your life which is about to be cut short, you are supposed make the most of your last moments and dress up nicely in a bunny suit and squat while clicking flashlights at the killer's face.

(The last thing I want to know is a guy facing a burglar in his house, squatting in front of him with a flashlight aimed at his face T_T.)

So it was an unexpected thing to happen that the little survivor didn't shudder tad bit when clinging to his arm. She was surprisingly overjoyed when he often raised his arm up to inspect her, and she only clutched it harder, often enjoying it like someone rocking a cradle for an infant. The look on her face when he did so was definitely not that of terror, at least what his mental capability could help him interpret it as.

He wasn't used to mingling with the others, especially humans. The most amicable kind of relationships he had formed so far were those men and women cladded in white, roaming around the labs taking samples, collecting data, organizing his tools and providing him with some critical information, especially the set of rules. He was guided by them into bigger darker rooms, where those dummies had stood. Then he was taught to fight, he was told what he was, the weapon, their masterpiece.

He remembered the pain he had endured, but he wasn't taught to be bothered. Yet, he paid heed to the sensation. He never liked it. He despised the pain, for he was bothered, something he was not supposed to be.

He was supposed to be what they needed him to be, not what he wanted.

So it was definitely a novel thing to follow a tiny creature around, observing her, and not harming her. So often he wondered, yes he did, if he was still working for the men who created him...if he was still under their commands. What would become of this human then?

The little girl would approach her from the other side whenever she came to pick things up, which were either those fleshly looking flower petals, or something from the woods. He would often aimlessly roam around when he had nothing to do, or he would just sit down and listen to any gibberish the man cladded in all black had to tell him.

Gibberish to him, for he never understood him. And yet, he would gawk at him as he would gawk at him through his dark shades.

Unlike him, who often poked him, or seemed to just study him like a specimen, she didn't study him, not like a book, not even like that. Strangely, she too poked him often to gain his attention. But she didn't do it like that, not that he felt like syringes poking his arm, or being impaled. She did it so often, and she found joy in doing so.