✩ Frederick "Freddy" Charles Krueger "The Nightmare" ✘ Reader ✩
❝I always sleep better with you by my side.❞
EDITED ON 5/21/22
You were lying on your couch, it was about two in the morning, and you could not sleep. You rubbed your face as your television illuminated your body with a faint glow. A groan fell from your mouth as you blinked away the lack of energy that inhabited your body. For a moment, you acquired a sense of peace where you could relax, but it was short-lived as your telephone rang. You rolled your eyes as you picked up the device and scanned the name before answering. Quentin's voice came through your phone. He questioned how you were. You laughed weakly as you studied the dots on your ceiling. "I'm doing as well as I can... How about you? Why are you up this early?"
Quentin replied to you with a strained laugh and an obvious excuse. You knew he had the same problem you did, and that was something you learned to bond over. In your conversation, you heard a knock at your door. You briefly paused the call and left the phone on your coffee table before heading to your front door. You closed one of your eyes and looked through the peephole. You backed away from the door and rolled your eyes when you saw who it was.
"Why the hell are you at my door at this time of night, Quentin?" Quentin just smiled, pushed the bright red button on his phone, reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a white pill bottle with melatonin printed on it in big letters. You shrugged when you saw the plastic container and moved to the side to allow Quentin in. You looked outside before you shut your door. In the darkness, the wind was evident. It sung against leaves and howled against branches. But with the song of the wild was the gentle swiping of knives against one another. You ended up closing the door with a shiver down your spine, whereas Quentin was behind you, rambling on about the effects of the pills he possessed.
You watched as Quentin opened the white bottle and poured a couple of pills out. He stepped forward, grabbed your hand, and plopped them into your palm. Quentin stepped back to try and seal the bottle back together, but when he looked up towards you, he froze. His eyes widened, and he dropped the plastic container onto the ground causing all the tablets to litter your hardwood. You frowned as you looked down at the mess, but your vision snapped back on Quentin when he started to back away in fear with a multitude of 'no's' leaving his mouth. Your head tilted to the side with confusion as he hit his tailbone against the back of your couch. You weren't sure why his breathing continued to accelerate until you turned to look back at your front door.
Multiple blades curled around the wooden frame, fog exerted from the cracked door, and you couldn't tell if you imagined the faint hums of child-like music or not. Slowly your front door swung open, and a man with burnt skin wearing a fedora and a striped sweater stood in its place. He had a broad smile on his face as he started towards you. You stayed still, frozen even, you awaited pain, but it never came. Instead, the man went straight for Quentin, who gasped for air because of a panic attack that had currently formed. His frightened eyes searched you for help, but you stayed glued to your spot. You wanted to help. Honestly, you did. You'd grown close to Quentin. However, your priorities had ended up somewhere else.
"I've missed your screams. You tried so damn hard to stay away from me. From what you need! Which is a long, quiet nap!" The burnt man's rough laugh echoed around you and filled your living room as he pierced his bladed hand into Quentin's chest. Quentin sobbed for help in horror and pain as his warm blood spilled onto your cold floor. You looked down at your hands to not watch his blood move closer to your feet. The pills from earlier were still in your palm. You pondered the thought of taking them but turned your hand to the side to let them drop to the floor with the other tablets and the newfound body.
"Can you please clean this whole mess up, Freddy? I gave you what you wanted...." You turned away from the blood-filled scene to shut your front door. As the door became flesh with the frame, Freddy came up behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders. His blades fanned out rhythmically and curved around your collarbone, which caused a shudder down your spine. You looked up at your ceiling as guilt swarmed your senses. Although you tried your best to ignore the blood that dripped onto your shirt, you could feel the wet crimson stain on the fabric and transfer to your skin. Then, in your mourning, Freddy spun you around. He held you to where your faces were inches apart.
"Does your majesty regret our deal?.. Too. Fucking. Bad. You got me what I wanted, and now you never have to see me again. Isn't that lovely?" Freddy growled low enough for his words to feel even more threatening than they originally were. A single tear fell from your eye as he pushed you away with enough force for you to accidentally step into Quentin's blood pool. And with that last unpleasantry, he turned away from you and opened your door. As he went, the fog rolled out after him. It carried the body, the blood, and even all the pills with it. Your house was left how it originally was at two in the morning.