#where's the freddy content?

[puhpandas]

what are u guys' dream game after sotm? since itll be the last game centered around the mimics backstory and integration and stuff (hopefully) theres basically a whole world of possibilities for currently neglected storylines lol

[puppy-barkz]

hello fnaf ppl. how would you recommend someone get into fnaf?

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay on the topic of crack treated seriously crossover isekai with mdzs, I've been batting about the daycare attendant from fnaf getting reborn into... Someone.

My first thought was obviously wwx, cuz main character, excellent wild card. I considered lxc, all smiley with a heavy heart and too much responsibility trying to care for everyone even as it ruins him. I considered NHS or jgy for that manic rodent customer service energy, I considered xy for his demonic cultivation and intensity, even jyl if you really wanted to lean into the crack energy, and also Moon snapping would be Excellent crouching tiger energy.

I also considered jc.

The thing about the robot DA, if you don't know,

Half is Sun, a frustrated, overworked, sarcastic mf dealing with his alter ai going insane and trying to kill/kidnap the kids they protect. He's anxiety riddled, pithy to adults, a bit of a control freak trying to scrabble together a semblance of balance in a steadily collapsing situation while trying to maintain himself while being terminally neglected. His sanity is hanging by a thread.

Its alternate, Moon, appears whenever it's naptime - ie, when the lights go out. Moon is an uncanny security guard of the pizza plex (imagine a giant themed mall slash party venue that fails basically every osha compliance) that acrobatically hunts down anything that moves when the other animatronics (basically tortured androids let's be real) are in recharge. Moon is corrupted by a semi computer semi haunted magic virus that makes him evil. Sun is left the responsibility of keeping it locked up in his head by never, ever, resting, or by being in the dark.

By the end of the games, sun and moon, the DA, is a shell of his former self. Despite being a multi million investment as a highly marketed, one of a kind animatronic with a worryingly lifelike ai (or two), the DA is abandoned by its creators and left to rot in the slowly crumbling ruins of the daycare, along with the half destroyed and monstrous forms of its fellow animatronics who aimlessly, sightlessly roam the halls. Sun is huddled in the last beam of light from a jacked generator, and when that finally dies moon is reduced to little more than a manmade beast in the dark as they too slowly run out of power, their powerful battery long stolen and grafted into someone else. Their kingdom boarded up and half destroyed, their own private apocalypse they cannot escape, the DA begs the next person he sees for a total reboot. The combined personality, eclipse, is a gentle and naive thing unable to perceive the reality of its situation. Until it runs out of power, it will be placid and calm, lost in its illusion of the past. It is, essentially, requested euthanasia. It's the kindest send off anything else in the pizza plex gets.

So, a snarky, bitchy guy with huge abandonment issues sick of trying to corral unruly kids without reward, constantly overlooked and frankly neglected in favour of the more successful and popular siblings, with deep rooted trauma about losing his core, too much responsibility and no support, desperately trying to keep himself from lashing out and causing irreparable damage and kinda failing? Who just wants to play stupid games and stop having to shoulder everything himself? Fiercely protective of children but also not immune to pettiness?

Yeah, at that point it's not even a question. Let's give jc an identity disorder and a crippling fear of water.

[viviennevincent2]

THE REAL JAKE DESERVES MORE RECOGNITION !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[rosesradio]

i kinda wanted to make some freebat content (After all the other things i promised lol) but i was a little worried about hate anons. but then i figured i’ve discovered at least 1-2 people have me blocked Every Day i’m on here already so like. fuck it. might as well do what i want lol

[insufferablygood]

the look here is right. but i need freddie to be like at least 1/2 foot taller to make this accurate

[varley-of-torment]

Von Bartels Family as Five Nights at Freddy's

Edgar = Foxy (so energetic! for violence!)

Franz and Sylvia = Bonnie and Chica (THE DUO SIBLINGS 🔥🔥🔥)

Evi = Freddy (never around, until they are)

Von Bartels = Springtrap/William Afton/Purple Guy (obviously)

Jerirza = Golden Freddy (restless ghost, also I think they hate Springtrap?)

[clesired]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! note to self, never attempt to study around fred weasley.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! no warnings, fluff, gn!reader, established relationship, second person pov, 0.7k words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your eyes dart across the page quickly, silently mouthing the words to yourself as you read.

You feel the bed shift under Fred’s weight as he lays his head in your lap, resting his chin on your thigh as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“C’mon, love, you’ve been at it for hours. Why don’t you take a break, hm?” He asks softly, looking up at you as his hands gently knead at your waist.

You move the Potions book to the side as you look down at him wryly, raising a brow. “Freddie, I just opened the book.”

He looks at you as if you just stated the obvious. “Yeah. Like I said, you’ve been at it for hours.”

You can’t help but giggle at his words, moving to card one hand through his hair as you gaze at him fondly. “Y’know, you could always just study with me.”

He scrunches his nose, his immediate look of disgust at even the mention of him studying pulling another giggle out of you.

He nuzzles his face into your thigh gently, lips brushing against your skin as he responds. “Don’t even joke like that, love. Me? Studying?” He pretends to shudder, tightening his hold around your waist.

You continue to massage his scalp as you tilt your head, sighing softly. “Fair enough. You know I’d love to push this aside—but I need to study, Freddie. Snape’s paper is due in a few days and I haven’t even started yet.” You explain gently.

Fred is unfazed, raising his brows. “Neither have I.” He points out, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“In the politest way possible, my love—are you even going to attempt to write it?” You question with an amused smirk.

He smirks right back, entirely unoffended. In fact, he even looks proud. “Not at all.”

You snort softly, brushing some of his long hair out of his eyes. “I assumed so.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch as he melts into your embrace. The sight fills you with a warmth you only ever get when you’re with him, and you smile softly.

You live for the quiet, intimate moments like these—where it’s just the two of you; basking in one another’s presence.

You love every moment you spend with Fred, of course. But there’s something about this specifically, that hits you in a way nothing else can.

The comfort you draw from being in his arms and having him in yours is simply unmatched.

He blinks an eye open, looking up at you softly. “Just a quick break. Just need a little cuddling.”

His voice is so soft and so quiet, and there’s just the tiniest hint of pleading-

Yeah.

You toss the Potions book aside and move to get more comfortable on the bed.

He grins triumphantly as he extricates himself from your lap, standing on his knees as he gently grips your waist and casually tosses you further up the bed.

You let out a soft noise of surprise as you land on your butt, the bed bouncing softly. Before you can say anything—he crawls over you, using his own body to pin you flat to the bed as he nuzzles into your neck.

He sighs contentedly as he begins to relax in your hold, pressing a soft kiss into your neck.

You smile to yourself at his actions, wrapping one arm around his back—tracing soothing patterns up and down his spine while the other one cards through his hair once more.

“Just a few minutes.” He mumbles quietly, letting out a deep breath as he melts further and further into your embrace.

You hum softly, the weight of his body pressing into yours a familiar and comforting feeling as you ease further back into the bed.

You both know it’s not just going to be ‘a few minutes.’

Oh well, you can’t be that bothered when your boy looks so content.

His lashes flutter gently as he nuzzles into you further, squeezing you tight and pressing another kiss into your neck.

It isn’t long before you feel his body start to go limp, sleep calling out to him as his hold on you loosens ever so slightly.

Yeah, you’re going to be here all night and that’s perfectly fine with you.

You kiss the top of his head gently, your fingers still playing with the red strands of hair as you gently scratch at his scalp.

“You are so lucky you’re a welcome distraction.” You murmur quietly, tone affectionate.

At least the paper isn’t due for another few days.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮��𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! golden retriever bf!fred weasley is canon i cannot be convinced otherwise. i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©clesired - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*ੈ✩

[restinsodaroni]

Found out from watching a video about unused content in the racing demo game Five Laps at Freddy’s there was a Moondrop item in the files

You toss it at another player and they’ll fall asleep ( It’ll even play a little lullaby, it sounds cute! ) then the affected player has to move the joy stick in order to wake up lol.

Idk if anyone saw it yet, but here’s the video where I found it! Plus here’s a drawing I made inspired by the item lol. It was an excuse to draw Moon in the cupcake car tbh

[kenmarlenn]

TSBS Voice Actor Socials! Go check 'em out and support them directly where you can!

SAMS / LAES

EC_Universal (Moon, Lunar) - YouTube, Twitch - Not currently streaming or posting. He's working on it!

TheInvisibleDavis (Sun, Eclipse on EAPS) - YouTube, Twitch - Minecraft FNAF Roleplay content, gaming streams

QueenKat (Earth) - YouTube, Streaming YT, Twitch - Minecraft FNAF roleplay content, chill gaming streams

KainaBunny (Fem!Moon) - YouTube, Twitch - No recent streams or content, but a very lovely person!

MGFS/EAPS

EmperorValentine (Foxy, Puppet) - Twitch - Not currently streaming, might get back to it! Strategy and map games.

FloraKiiro (Ballora, Fem!Sun on SAMS) - Twitch - Minecraft streams usually!

FFFS/MAGF

MarioMania (Freddy, Glamrock Freddy) - Twitch, FNAF Minecraft Roleplay - Chill or horror game streams with friends

DigitalPixels (Funtime Freddy) - YouTube, Twitch - Roblox content

CraztMtch42 (Michael Afton) - Twitch, YouTube - Project Zomboid and Marvel Rivals streams

FluffyArtist (Francine) - Just socials! - Does cool art!

ShadowGamingVA (Toy Chica) - YouTube, Twitch - Minecraft roleplay

MarshieMonarch (Scarlet) - Twitch, YouTube - Minecraft roleplay, Undertale, Roblox

RWGS

AustinIsaLemur (Gregory) - Twitch, YouTube, Spotify - Chatting streams, music, Minecraft roleplay

KayKrae (Roxanne) - Twitch, YouTube - Music, Among Us, Minecraft roleplay

Xylophoney (William Afton) - Twitch, YouTube - Minecraft roleplay

FFGC

Darzeth (Funtime Foxy) - Twitch, YouTube - Fallout, Roblox

OddFoxx (Glamrock Chica, Lolbit) - Twitch, YouTube - Fallout, Fortnite, narrative games

[amomentsescape]

Hey, do you have any slasher X reader where the reader loves baking?

Slashers with Reader That Loves Baking

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, & Stu

A/N: Hmm... I don't think I do. Looks like I need to whip up another fic. Here you go!

Freddy Krueger

Although Freddy doesn't need to eat, he'll try anything you make him!

He's happy that you have a hobby that you enjoy during the day

He's even happier that he gets to taste the results

Whenever you visit him, he makes sure the dream world has a kitchen for you in case you want to make something while you're there

You're more inclined to bake there anyways because Freddy can get you just about any ingredient your heart desires

When you do make items, Freddy switches into his "Kiss the Cook" apron and matching hat

He may not help you with the baking, but he still expects kisses while you work

He'll stand beside you, just observing everything you do

He doesn't ask too many questions either, he just likes seeing you relaxed

Once the treats are ready, he literally stabs a few onto his knifed glove and eats them off of it

There hasn't been a single thing you've made that he hasn't enjoyed

Michael Myers

Michael is pretty neutral with your enjoyment of baking

He tends to his hobbies, you tend to yours

He doesn't feel like there needs to be any crossover of sorts

However, he won't deny you when you ask him to try things

And if you need help accessing the top shelf, he'll help you out

He secretly has a big sweet tooth, and your warm smile influences him to try everything (he'd be dead before he admitted it though)

He has a pretty basic taste in sweets too

He enjoys the majority of the cookies, cakes, and breads you've made

He isn't a big fan of pie or dried fruits though

If you make a batch of anything, he'll try a bite if you ask, but that'll be it

You're always certain he's just trying to be polite

But whenever you wake up in the morning, half the tray is gone

Michael will just shrug it off of course

But it's pretty obvious he enjoys your treats

Jason Voorhees

He absolutely loves that you bake!

To be fair, he'd love literally anything you do that makes you happy, but baking reminds him a lot of his missed childhood

You've made a couple things already that reminded him of stuff his mother used to make, and it almost brought him to tears

He doesn't really get sweet cravings like he did when he was younger, but he will never say no to trying something of yours

He also enjoys decorating some of the treats too

His large hands tend to fumble a bit, and nothing comes out as good as yours, but he's having fun, and that's what matters most to you both

His favorite thing is coming home after a long day to the smell of baked goods and to see you casually mixing ingredients together

You just seem so content, and it gives him a taste of what domestic life is like with you

He'll always come over to greet you with a hug, not caring if you're covered in flour

And once he's gotten cleaned up, he just sits at the table out of the way, watching you

He especially loves when you talk to him while baking

It just makes him all warm inside

Thomas Hewitt

He never really grew up with home baked goods like yours before, so it feels like literal heaven when he smells the sugar in the air

He likes walking up and peering over your shoulder, trying to see what you're doing

He also just likes hanging out with you in case you need help with anything

If your arms ever get tired from mixing or kneading, you know who to ask

If you let him, he'll take little tastes of the batters, predicting how much he's going to like them once they're done

(It's always a 10/10)

If it's sweet, he likes it

There's never been anything you've made that he didn't eat almost all of in one night

He loves if you make enough for the whole family too!

He's a bit hesitant to help decorate, and even more so to help add ingredients

But if you ask, there's no way he'd be willing to say no

Bubba Sawyer

He adores your baking!

He absolutely has no idea what you're doing half the time, but he's happy about it all the same

You've got to be careful with this one though

Because if you even turn around for a second, the batter is gone

Same goes for when the treats are cooling

If you leave the kitchen, they'll be gone within just a couple minutes

You have no idea how he manages to do it

At least he's showing you just how much he loves your bakery?

But besides that, he's a great hand to have in the kitchen

He can mix and mix for days

And he's always there to help hand you whatever you need

Just don't trust him with the powders unless you want a white, dusty kitchen

He's also not the best around the hot oven, having burnt himself a handful of times

It's kind of like having a helpful but clumsy child in the kitchen with you

But he's so sweet you can't bare to tell him to leave

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms never grew up with many sweets in the house

So having his own baker at home is like feeding a starving man

And with Brahms, you can imagine how that goes

Will come to you almost every day with a new treat he is craving

In fact, he even added to the rules list that you needed to make him a bedtime treat or else he refuses to go to sleep

You love baking of course, so it's not a problem, but some of his requests are absurd

A pie covered in chocolate ice cream smooshed with cookies and drizzled with brownie batter might be a bit much for a midnight snack

But you honestly did it to yourself

The moment he tasted your treats, there was no going back

And be careful when the sugar rush hits

He's ready to bounce off the walls with you in tow

Norman Bates

Norman has always been one for domestic hobbies

So the fact that you're a baker makes him feel so cozy and warm

Waking up to fresh muffins with his tea, coming home to a plate of brownies, and even being woken up in the middle of the night to some wild cookie recipe all makes Norman so happy

Jokingly complains that you're fattening him up

He's honestly a pretty good baker himself, although he argues that his skill is nowhere near as good as yours

But there have been a handful of times he prepare his own treat beside you in the kitchen, and it always came out amazing

And because of his experience, he's happy to give a lending hand when you need

If you're making something you know by heart instead, then he's still there beside you, keeping up with the dishes so you don't have to tend to a mess later

Norman enjoys whatever makes you happy, and is eager to learn even more about what you love too!

Billy Loomis

He's pretty chill about it at first

He thinks it's a cute hobby, but doesn't know much about it himself

However, the first time he was actually there with you watching you work and tasting what you made...

He really gained a better perspective on it

He can see the hard work and true enjoyment you put into the hobby, and this makes him appreciate it more

He's not huge on sweets, but seeing you put all of this together for him makes it impossible to deny them

Will be brutally honest if he likes something or not, but there's truly only been a couple times he actually didn't like what you made

Will occasionally sit on the counter beside you and just ask basic questions

"What does this thing do?" "How long does it need to sit there?" "Is there a difference between folding and mixing?"

You always smile at him since his genuine curiosity is cute

Plus, it shows he's trying to learn more about what you do

Will definitely stand behind you and rest his head on your shoulder while you work

Stu Macher

You love to bake? Well, Stu loves to eat

Match made in heaven in his eyes

He honestly is surprised by the amount of effort that it takes to whip up a simple cookie or cupcake

He's not usually on this end of the food process

But he honestly enjoys watching what you do

Will literally just stare and zone out, making you laugh

Loves loves loves when it's time to lick the spoon

He will dab batter onto your nose though

He's a huge fan of helping you decorate too!

Just be careful, because Stu is also a huge fan of squeezing the piping bag directly into his mouth

But surprisingly, Stu has become pretty decent at piping frosting and making your treats look pretty

He always insists on eating the ones you decorate though because they "taste better"

He honestly just loves being able to show praise for the stuff you make him and will always request a fun treat to accompany your weekly movie nights

[yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen]

The Bear (Anders Lassen x F! Reader)

Request from @wunder-blunder: I'm (VERY) interested in Anders Lassen (The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare) x female reader, I really enjoyed your fic Living for Later (a part 2 for that would be awesome)! So, if you're still interested/reading, my idea is that the group (Anders, Gus, etc.) go to a bar after they get out of confinement at the end of the movie, and that's where Anders and the female reader meet. The female reader (very understandably) can't stop staring at Anders so he walks over to ask why she's staring. The female reader will say how she's just shocked that anyone would let a bear into a bar (Anders is the bear), flirty banter happens and eventually leads to much more explicit things.

Pairing: Anders Lassen x Female Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, minors do not interact. 18 + ONLY. Oral M & F receiving, language, thigh riding, p in v, happy ending.

Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare Masterlist

"Taste that, Gentlemen," Gus holds up his pint, "the taste of freedom." They click their glasses together, beer sloshing over the side and landing on the bar top before they tip back the pints.

"Damn, I don't think anything could taste better," Freddy sighs, looking at his glass like a lover.

Anders smiles to himself, "I can think of something." His eyes scan across the room, his back casually leaning against the bar.

"Naughty boy, Lassen," Apple laughs, taking another sip and glancing around at the lack of women in the pub. "But it doesn't look like you're going to have much luck around here."

"Would you like another?" Anders turns slowly, his heartbeat quickening when he sees you there behind the bar, the other bartender giving you a smile and a pat on the back as he heads out. "Jesus," you whistle, "I didn't know we let bears in here."

"What?" Anders sits straighter looking around for the threat.

You giggle, "I meant you," you point at him, "you look like a fuckin' bear. What did you do to get a body like that? Bench press cars?"

His cheeks turn pink and he coughs, adjusting his glasses, "I-well I."

"Steamin' Jesus," Apple chuckles, "she's got you tongue-tied Lassen!"

You give the one called Lassen a playful wink before pouring him another pint and placing it before him. "This one's on the house, didn't mean to embarrass ya in front of your friends."

"It's no trouble," he turns and speaks at his friends between clenched teeth, "they seem to have lost their manners in prison."

"Prison?" you stand straighter looking between the patrons, "you lot just got out of prison?" They nod sheepishly, "what the hell for?"

"That's classified," the one with the dark black facial hair and curls speaks up. "But we were found innocent and released today."

"So you're not raging murderous psychopaths?" you ask, refilling their glasses and wiping down the bar from the previous spill.

"Only when it comes to Nazis," you look at the Bear and feel a smile pull at your lips.

"Well, that's just fine then."

The rest of the night passes quickly, you make conversation with the other patrons, fix drinks, and try not the spend the entire time drooling over the beast of a man seated at your ber. While all of those things go well, the latter is hard to accomplish. It probably isn't helpful that you can feel his eyes follow you around the room.

And when your eyes meet, it's fucking electric. He's so big, he barely fits on the chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up leave little to the imagination and it makes your seriously want to know if he's that big, everywhere.

"Last call, gents," you ring the bell, seeing a handful of regulars come up for a final pint or to settle their bill.

You move about the room, starting the closing tasks for the evening, tossing goodbyes over your shoulder until the chime of the door is silenced. But when you look up your breath catches at seeing one lone patron remaining.

"We're closed," your voice comes out breathy, and you clear your throat. He's silent, watching you like he has all night, and you feel your assessment of him as a bear was accurate. He's an animal alright, and he's hungry.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks, crossing his arms across him onto the bar top, and resting his chin on his hands. "Say the word, and I will go."

The words slip out before you can process, "No," he smiles, "I don't want you to leave."

He nods, before straightening, "what do we need to do to go?"

"Oh," you quickly lift your hands, shaking your head, "no, you just sit there, I can finish by myself."

He stands and your eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. Fuck, he is a giant, towering over you. You didn't get to grasp how tall he was when he sat at the bar all evening and your panties drench just thinking of how big he is. The thought from earlier comes back with a vengeance and you gulp, your eyes traveling down his body.

"See something you like?" He holds out his arms and turns for you, smirking when he catches your eyes, "are you just going to look, darling?"

"No," you swallow, shaking your head, and moving to stand before him. Tentatively you reach a hand out towards his chest, gasping when he grabs your wrist and pulls you into his orbit. His chest is solid muscle beneath your palm, and you move across his chest towards his arm, tongue coming out to lick your lips.

He groans, and your eyes snap to his, but his arm on your lips, "can I kiss you?" he asks, his hand coming to rest on your chin, his thumb pulling down your bottom lip before you bend your head and take it into your mouth. Tongue swirling around his digit, sucking it between your lips before letting go with a pop.

"Knulla," he mumbles under his breath.

"Kiss me Bear," you command and he wastes not a moment. His arms wrapping around your waist and hoisting you into his arms before your ass lands on the bar top. He nestles his body between your thighs, spreading them far to make room for his large form.

"Tell me you want this," he's so close, and you feel a little drunk having him so close. "Tell me," you pulls you towards the edge of the counter, your soaking through your panties, skirt bunched around him, "that you want me to fuck you. That you'll let me take you home and do everything I've been dreaming to do to you all night."

The sound of your heart beating is so deafening you can guarantee he can hear it. "Yes," you whimper, begging him with your body to put you out of your misery and kiss you.

"Then," he takes a step back, lowering your skirts, "what do we need to do to leave?"

You huff, crossing your arms and withering on the bar top, desperate for any kind of friction. The Bear misses nothing though and quickly steps forward, pulling you off the counter and to your feet. "None of that," he chastises playfully, "the only thing getting you off tonight will be me."

"Hmph," you step out of his arms, crossing your own across your chest. "You won't even kiss me, how do I know it's even worth letting you take me home?"

"I see," he nods, "the little barn needs a taste."

You don't get a chance to ask about the meaning of the word before he has you pinned to the wall, his knee slotted between your skirts and his mouth hot on your own. It's like an inferno, his mouth moving with your own in a complicated waltz only you two knowing the steps. When he lifts his knee, and presses it to your cunt, you gasp, his tongue sliding into your mouth and tangling with your own.

You are lost to everything but him, and when he raises his boot to his toes and rolls his leg up and down you quickly grasp onto his shoulders, his forehead pressed to your own. You close your eyes and rock your hips, being held completely off the ground by his tree trunk of a thigh.

"That's it," he praises, holding onto your hips and helping you move back and forth on his thigh. "Your bear is hungry," he latches his lips onto your neck when your head drops back against the wall. "Hmm," he groans, sucking and leaving bites along your neck, "I want you to cum," he whispers in your ear, sucking your earlobe between his lips. "Then I'm gonna take you home and lick that pretty pussy clean until you make a mess all over my face, again."

The combination of the filth rolling off his tongue and the strong thigh beneath you, working together with his hands on your waist is all too much. You grab him around the neck with one arm and the other hand is on his arm and you pull yourself up and down with a small cry and a whimper of his name as you fall apart beneath his skilled fingers.

Your breath is loud in the silence of the pub and you both still as he slowly lowers you to the ground. The legs you stand on are wobbly and he quickly reaches out an arm to steady you. "Are you alright, my darling?" he asks softly, running a hand over your face, and smiling when you nod. "You were so beautiful," he marvels, "if that's how gorgeous you look cumming on my thigh. You will rival the gods when you cum on my cock."

"Lassen," you whimper his name and he closes his eyes and controls his breathing.

"Please, call me Anders," he begs, slowly opening his eyes and taking a step back, "what do we need to do to finish?"

"Nothing," you shake your head, turning to reach over the bar for your purse, "I'm opening the bar tomorrow at 11, I'll come in early and finish it."

"We should finish it now," he argues gently, holding up a hand to interrupt you, "trust me."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think you're going to make it in tomorrow." You eyes widen and you go to ask the question when he offers the answer, "you'll be lucky to walk tomorrow when I'm through with you."

The two of you make quick work of the closing tasks and after making a quick call to your boss about covering for the next day you both finally leave the pub. The London air is chilly and you pull your threadbare coat tighter around your body, locking the door behind you. A couple passes when you turn and you sigh looking at the womans fine coat and gloves, a girl could dream.

A heavy weight drops across your shoulders, the scent of tobacco and leather heady as you snuggle into the warmth. "Let's get you home," Anders, reaches an arm around you and you turn towards home. If it wasn't for the spend dripping down your thighs, you'd think it was just an evening stroll between a couple. You'd always wish you had a man to meet you after work and walk you home. Someone to make sure you made it home safe.

With Anders arms around you, you could almost pretend. You walked in comfortable silence, the tension from earlier simmering as your pace quickened when your apartment came into view. You took the steps two at a time, and before long you stood before the door.

You shrug off his coat and hand it to him before reaching into your purse for your keys. The room is dark and you move around the room, turning on lamps and hanging up your coat. The deadbolt is deafening and when you turn to look towards the door, your jaw drops.

The whole thing happens in slow motion, his eyes on you the whole time. He’s wearing suspenders and he lowers each side till their hanging at his waist. His hands are slow, methodical, as he unbuttons each button of his shirt. Your own hands mirroring his actions as you slip the buttons of your shirt in time with each of his. He tugs the shirt off and your mouth waters. His chest is a canvas of scars, and for a second he looks unsure as you step forward, hand reaching out to trace the long one across his abdomen. 

“How did that happen?” you ask, whispering. He tells you everything, your hand tracing each and every scar before going over them with your lips. 

When you’ve finished tracing your tongue across the last scar, a bullet he received two years ago protecting a child does he find his voice. “You’re not disgusted?” 

“My handsome Bear,” you cradle his face, “these scars are the canvas of your life. The life you’ve fought so hard to live. I could never be disgusted.” 

He lets out a shallow breath before nodding, “Thank you.” 

“No,” you hold a finger to his lips, “no thank you are necessary. It is I who should be thanking you.” You trace your hand down his abdomen and reach for his belt, holding his gaze when you begin to open his pants and lower the zipper, dropping to your knees and licking your lips as you work the pants down his legs. 

His cock is magnificent, and you are pleased to know he really is that large, everywhere. “Fuck,” you mumble, wondering for a moment how you’ll even manage to get him in your mouth let alone your pussy. He’s silent, watching you and he steps out of his pants, tossing them and his shoes into the corner and standing before you completely naked. 

You reach for his cock and give it a tentative stroke, your hand not even encompassing half his size, mouth salivating at the dribble of pre-cum pooling at the end. You stick out your tongue and lick the end of his cock, moaning softly at the salty taste. “Fan, gör det igen älskling,” he moans head dropping back and you feel encouraged by the broken way he just sounded.

Your jaw strains from the stretch but you manage to slide about half of him down your throat before you hit the back. Your panties drip onto the floor, when you pull him back out and in, lubricating the rest so your hands can slide in time with your mouth. You want to touch your pussy so bad, it’s throbbing but his moans of pleasure are enough to get you off. He leans down, putting one of his hands on your head and guiding you deeper, gagging on his cock. 

Anders looks down, his mouth dropped open on a moan, watching the saliva drip down your chin and splash like raindrops on your exposed breasts. He wants to lick them, open his mouth wide and suck each gorgeous globe between his lips, teasing your nipple with his tongue. But right now he’s lost to the way you look at him. Tears streaming down your chin as you attempt to take him deeper and deeper with each thrust of his hips, he’s so fucking close and he wants to cum inside your mouth, watch your mouth fill with the white creamy cum and see your throat bob as your swallow down his load. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns, holding your head still and listening to your gag as he cums down your throat with a loud groan of your name. It’s as beautiful as he thought when he pulls out and watches you gasp, hands on his thighs as you try to catch your breath, his cum all over your lips until you lick them clean with a grin. 

Anders reaches a hand out, pulling you up and quickly disposing of the rest of your clothes. He doesn’t bother with your bra straps, the fabric ripping and tossed in the corner before he’s tossing you over his shoulder and heading for the bedroom. You let out a loud squeal but he silences you when he fondles your ass, giving it a sharp slap. 

He tries three doors before he finds the bedroom, and tosses you onto the bed - tits bouncing with the force. “Spread your legs for me, darling,” he drops to his knees and crawls up the bed, nestling himself between your thighs. “Let me see that messy cunt.” He lifts one of your legs and rests it on his shoulder, spreading you wide, and running a thick finger between your folds. “Hmm,” he hums happily, spreading your wetness all over your folds. 

Anders leans forward and you reach down, grabbing his hair with one hand, the other quickly reaching behind you for the pillow when he licks at your clit. Almost like a kitten licking a bowl of milk, he hums, the vibrations traveling up your body and you wither, groaning when he lifts his other arm and rests it across your stomach keeping you still. 

That’s when everything changes. Gone is the kitten and the bear comes out to play. He devours you, his nose dragging through your slit and he tongue following, playing with your clit like the expert marksman you assume he is. 

“Anders,” you try to rock your hips and he lets up with his grip, letting you ride his face. 

He pulls up for air, watching mesmerized as your hips lift trying to follow his mouth. You halt when he spits on your pussy, the sound lewd and loud your leg rising as he lifts one of his arms and puts it between you. You arch off the bed on a gasp when he slides two of his thick fingers inside you. 

You grasp the arm at your waist in an iron grip, moving your hips up and down. He curls his fingers and you see stars. “Fuck!” He leans down, sucking your clit back into his mouth and moving his tongue back and forth. The slight stubble leaves a delicious burn that aches. “I’m gonna-“ you pant, struggling to get the words out before you feel the pressure build and explode soaking his fingers. He doesn’t lose momentum, riding your high out until you’re pushing his face away. 

He crawls up your body and rests his body gently on your own. He rests his head on your chest, like he did on his arms back at the bar, grinning. 

“You look quite pleased with yourself,” you run your fingers through his hair, his head tilting to rest more into your hand. 

“I am,” he smiles, “to have a beautiful woman fall apart on my tongue is a blissful thing.” 

“You must have had many women to have such skill.” The idea leaves a sour feeling in your stomach and your hand falls back to your chest but he quickly moves his head beneath your hand to encourage your touch. 

“I haven’t,” his words surprise you and you meet his eyes to see them already upon you. “Been with many women that is. Just two.” You’re unsure if you believe him, but he places a kiss between your breasts and moves up your body to gently kiss your lips. His cock grows hard against your belly with each swipe of his tongue against your own. “I want to see you cum again,” he whispers against your lips. 

“Then fuck me-“ the words die on your tongue when he lifts your legs and presses them into your stomach, his cock brushing through your folds. 

“As you wish,” he grins, pressing just the head inside you. You gasp, tossing your head back as he works himself deeper and deeper inside you with each thrust of his hips. 

“Oh god,” you moan, his thumb working your clit as he finally fits himself all the way inside you. 

His chuckle has your eyes snapping open to look at him with a tilt of your head and he gives you a wink, “Not god, darling, just me.” 

“You assho-” he rocks his hips, pulling back all the way before slamming back in again. You can’t breathe, each stroke of his enormous cock punching the oxygen from your lungs. 

You close your eyes, lost in the sensations he brings out, each snap of his hips fills you deeper and deeper, and you’re sure you can feel him poking out of your stomach. The room is otherwise silent besides your panting breath, incoherent mumblings of his name, and the lewd sounds of his cock pumping into your soaked pussy. 

“Look at me,” Anders, nudges his head against your own and you slowly open your eyes. “There you are,” he praises, kissing you deeply, “keep your eyes on me, I want to see you cum.” 

“An-Anders,” you hold onto both his arms and look between you, seeing him disappear inside you with each movement of his massive body. The pressure in your belly builds like a volcano bound to explode and he sees it, moving his hips quicker and chasing your release with his own. 

“Cum for me, darling,” he commands, his accent strong, “cum now.” You obey, arching your chest up into him and letting out a loud moan, squeezing around his cock so tight. “Shit,” he groans, flooding you with his release. It’s hot and thick and you can feel it drip down your thighs, leaving them sticky. 

He stays buried deep inside you, his massive arms on either side of your head keeping himself upright so he does not crush you. You want to feel his weight on you, feel him keep you there with his body, never let you go. But eventually, he does, but not before kisses are pressed over every inch of your face. He may be a bear in appearance; a fierce fighter that could tear your limb from limb with little thought. But inside hes nothing but a teddy bear, a lover, someone you could easily get attached too. 

“Wheres the bathroom?” he asks, sitting up, his eyes fixed on where he’s left a mess licking his lips. You point to the door in the corner and he reluctantly rises. God, he’s a fucking sight, all hard lines and muscles, and with each step away you want to shout for him to return. 

He returns quickly with a clothe, wiping you clean and collapsing back into bed. Tugging you into his arms, sleep quickly finds you, his arm rubbing up and down your back and humming a soft swedish lullaby. 

By the time you awaken the clock reads 1 pm and the bed is long cold. No note, no sign he was even there besides the two wet towels hanging in the bathroom. You hate how dissapointed you feel at his absence but the ache between your legs from the six additional orgasms since the night before remind you that even if you wished too you couldn’t have gone again. He had to leave eventually. 

The shower works out some of the kinks in your muscles but you still move slowly throughout the flat, trying to muster the strength to go into work that evening. While your boss had been accepting of missing the opening shift at the pub you couldn’t get out of closing tonight. 

The pub is loud when you arrive and you smile at the other bartender before jumping into the fray and starting to take orders. The night moves quickly luckily despite your melancholy mood, several of the regulars pick up on it; cracking jokes in the hopes of alleviating some of the sadness. 

From behind you notice another seat fill at the bar and go to turn, “What can I get-” the words evaporate on your tongue—a great bear of a man filling the bar stool before you. You look at one another, the pub continuing around you like it didn’t know your world was slowly tilting on its axis. 

“You,” he puts his arms on the bar top and smiles at you, “I would like to have you.” 

“You did,” you cross your arms over your chest, “you left without a word.” 

He lifts a bag from the floor and puts it on top of the counter, “I needed to go grab this.” 

He’s piqued your curiosity and knows it, grinning like a schoolboy as you uncross your arms and move closer, to pull the bag down and look inside. The contents are ordinary, clothes and an extra pair of shoes, a shaving kit, several knives, and guns. “I don’t understand,” you glance up at him and catch the quick hint of vulnerability. 

He clears his throat, “I went to grab my things. So I could come back home.” 

“Home?” you feel a tightness in your throat, “and where might that be?” 

“I already told you, darling. You. You, are my home.” 

“We hardly know one another,” the first tear slips down your cheek and he stands leaning over the bar to brush it away. “You could be a madman for all I know, a brute, a beast.” 

He holds a hand to his chest, mock offense clear on his face, “I am no such thing. I am a lover, not a fighter. You raise a brow at him, pulling out the large hunting knife from his bag and he grins sheepishly, “Okay, I am a bit of a fighter.” 

You stare at him, him watching with bated breath for you to decide if he’s worth this effort. But you know you already decided when you turned around and saw him there. “You’re paying half the rent,” he beams, nodding happily, “and doing the washing and dishes. I won’t be a little housewife doing all the work while you sit around and drink.” 

“I can cook,” he stands, coming around the bar, the other patrons watching him curiously, looking between the two of you. “I’m very handy around the house,” he wraps his arms around your waist, your hands falling naturally to his chest. “I make the bed, clean up after myself, and will be your own personal guard dog, darling, no one will ever hurt you. I promise.” 

He leans down to kiss you but you pull back, watching the little crease between his brows deepen in confusion. “I don’t want a guard dog,” you whisper to his conspiritorily, “I want a bear.” 

His laugh is loud and booming before he nods, “yes, my love, I’ll be your bear.” When he finally presses his lips to yours, the bar erupts in cheers, and for the first time in the long time, you’re exactly where you want to be.

[elikajinnie]

Every Move You Make, I See It - P.J

P: Dead By Daylight Killer!Jay X Survivor!Reader (recommended age 17+)

Warnings: Murder, Death, Stalking, Predator/Prey, Blood/Injury, Obsession, Suggestive Content, Feral Behaviour, Psychological Thriller, Graphic Descriptions, the endings a bit fucked up.

Synopsis: The Entity's favored killers are violent, but a new hunter has arrived—and it’s fixated on you. Man or beast, no one can tell. All you know is: you’re being hunted.

a/n: did heeseung, sooo why not jay as well? interested in heeseungs? -> heeseung

disclaimer! all the killers and survivors in this is in dbd the game. I do not own any of them. the idea of jay was a creative endeavour. for educational purposes: mori means killing and it takes two hits in the game before you are downed. And to avoid confusion: when he`s running, his weapon is on his back.

now playing: rock you like a hurricane -2011 by scorpions | daydream by enhypen | chase it by set it off

--

You hated the killers who weren't human or weren't human before they ended up in the Entity's realm. The Xenomorph, the Unknown, the Singularity, the Dredge, Nemesis, Pyramid Head (you weren't really sure about that one), and the Demogorgon—all of them were violent, sparing no survivors, relentless, and merciless. Anytime you found yourself in a trial and they were the killer, annoyance simmered within you because you knew the round would be painful.

Then there were the other killers who weren't human anymore, like the Hag, Freddy Krueger, the Blight, Pinhead and Chucky. You were kind of relieved when the new killer, the Houndmaster, turned out to be more humane—well, unlike her dog, but that didn’t matter.

So when the survivors of the latest trial came back and announced they had just gone up against a new killer, you didn’t think much of it. New killers weren’t exactly rare, and the Entity loved throwing curveballs your way. But then they said something that made the room pause.

“I’m not sure if it was a man or a beast. It looked… human, but it also moved like a wolf.”

Jake, sitting across the campfire with a brow quirked, asked the obvious question. “Like a werewolf?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. Great. A creature killer. The worst kind.

“Are you serious?” you muttered, glaring at Nea as if this was somehow her fault. “So, what? We’re dealing with something that bites again!?”

Nea shrugged helplessly, her face still pale from the trial. “It howled. Loud. I swear I heard it from across the map, and… it was hunting me. Not chasing, hunting.”

That word made something twist in your gut—uncomfortable, sharp. You hated the killers who acted like monsters, but the ones who actually were monsters? They were a nightmare. There was no bargaining with them, no understanding their patterns, no telling yourself they were just people corrupted by the Entity. Killers like the Demogorgon didn’t stop. Didn’t waver. Didn’t quit.

Now, apparently, this new killer—a wolf, a man, something in between—was joining that list.

Jake, always too curious for his own good, looked over at you. “What do you think its power is?”

“I think I don’t care,” you shot back, sharper than you intended. “It’s probably something that’ll tear you apart limb by limb, Jake.”

They looked at you for a moment, your irritation lingering in the air, before turning to the others to explain.

“We’re calling it The Beast,” Nea said, voice low, as though speaking the name might summon it. “It manipulates the map, and it hunts with precision. I swear it knew where I was the entire time.”

A chill crept up your spine, but you crossed your arms tightly, trying not to let it show.

“It had wolf attributes,” she continued, glancing around at the rest of you. “Fangs. Claws. The whole package.” She hesitated before adding, “It’s fast, too. Faster than most killers I’ve seen. The way it moves… it doesn’t just chase. It stalks, like Myers and Ghostface. But it’s worse.”

“How can it be worse?” Lara muttered.

Cheryl swallowed. “Because it runs on all fours. One second you see it watching from a distance, and the next, it’s charging you—low to the ground, like an actual wolf.”

Your jaw clenched as you listened, the mental image piecing itself together in your mind. A hulking figure with glowing eyes, tearing through the map with unnatural speed. It wasn’t just a killer anymore; it was something primal. Something built to hunt.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, looking away toward the shadows beyond the firelight. “Another killer that moves faster than us. Just what we needed.”

Feng, ever the optimist, tried to make light of it. “Well, maybe it’s like Huntress. You know—scary but manageable.”

“Manageable?” You shot her a look. “Did you not hear what they just said? It stalks. It runs like an animal. If it’s anything like Huntress, I’ll eat my boots.”

“I’m just saying,” she replied defensively, but you weren’t listening anymore.

Nea`s words echoed in your head: It knew where I was. That wasn’t normal. Killers had their tricks—perks, instinctual guesses—but this? This sounded like something worse. Like an instinct that couldn’t be evaded.

“So, what did you guys do?” Ada asked them. “Did you escape?”

They all looked at each other, and their expressions turned grim. “We didn’t.”

The group went quiet, everyone processing the meaning behind those words. You exhaled sharply through your nose and leaned forward, staring into the flames. Another killer to outwit, another trial that would leave you with scraped knees and shallow breaths if you were lucky.

But as much as you hated the creature killers—the ones who weren’t human anymore—you couldn’t deny the shiver of unease curling at the edge of your thoughts.

If The Beast hunted like a wolf, what did that make you? Prey.

It didn’t take long before you were face-to-face with The Beast. Three trials. Three exhausting rounds of barely escaping hooks and killers that felt almost predictable in comparison. You should’ve known your luck wouldn’t hold out forever.

The moment you entered the trial, you knew something was different. The forest was unfamiliar—not the usual suffocating realm of the Red Forest or Mother’s Dwelling. This was something worse. The trees were taller, their branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers. The underbrush was thick with sharp brambles, and the fog was heavier than you’d ever seen, curling around your ankles like it was alive.

You huffed quietly as you adjusted the toolbox in your hands, crouching low as you moved forward. The leaves crunched softly beneath your boots, and your eyes flickered upward every time you passed a crow perched on a twisted branch. You weren’t about to let those bastards give you away.

Stick to the shadows. Avoid open paths. Survive.

But just as you turned a corner around a massive log, you froze. A distant shout cut through the silence, sharp and panicked. Then came a sound you weren’t expecting: bells. Not the sharp, haunting toll of the Wraith—no, this was something different. Rhythmic and unnerving, like chimes carried by the wind.

Without thinking, you bolted in the direction of the noise. Branches whipped against your arms and face as you ran, your heart pounding in your ears. The toolbox rattled in your grip, but you didn’t dare stop. When you burst through a thicket of thorny bushes, you saw her—Sable.

She was on the ground, her leg caught in a snare trap. But this wasn’t a normal trap. It wasn’t the crude, rusty bear traps you’d seen with the Trapper. No—this snare trap was made of barbed wire, coiled tight around her calf, digging into the skin. Blood dripped from the cuts, staining the ground beneath her, and her face was twisted in agony.

“Sable!” you hissed, dropping to your knees beside her.

“It—it’s a trap,” she whimpered, trying to pull her leg free. The movement only made the wire dig deeper. “It came out of nowhere. I didn’t even see it.”

“Stop moving,” you snapped, fumbling with the wire as you set the toolbox down. Your fingers trembled as you worked, trying to pry the barbed loops apart without hurting her more. The sharp metal bit into your hands, and you hissed through gritted teeth as you felt blood well up along your palms.

Keep going, you told yourself. Ignore it.

The bells rang again—closer this time. You stiffened, head snapping up as your eyes darted around the clearing. The forest was too dark, the fog too thick. You couldn’t see anything, but you could feel it.

Something was watching you.

“Hurry,” Sable whispered, panic creeping into her voice. “It’s coming. I know it’s coming.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. With one last twist, the wire gave way, and you yanked it off her leg. Sable gasped, clutching her bleeding calf, but there was no time to stop and tend to it. You grabbed her arm, pulling her up as gently as you could.

“Can you run?” you asked urgently.

She nodded shakily, wincing. “Yeah. I think so.”

The bells tolled again, louder this time—low and hollow, like they were reverberating through the earth. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up as the sound was followed by something worse: a low, guttural growl.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

“Move,” you ordered, shoving Sable forward as you both started running.

You didn’t get far before you heard it—a sound you’d only heard described before, but never experienced yourself. The heavy thud of something large hitting the ground, followed by the unmistakable sound of claws digging into soil.

It wasn’t chasing you. It was hunting you.

The Beast had found its prey.

You and Sable made the mistake of turning around as you ran—and the sight froze your blood.

The Beast stood at the edge of the clearing, partially shrouded in shadow and fog, but you could see enough.

It was a tall man—if you could even call him that anymore. His frame was draped in black, torn clothes, a cloak of thick fur resting over his shoulders, matted and dark with grime. In his right hand, he held a glaive, its curved blade coated with blood, the metal glinting faintly in the low light. But it was his body that made your stomach twist.

His left arm was no longer human. It was covered in coarse black fur, stretched unnaturally over muscle and ending in claws that could shred through bone. The same grotesque transformation had overtaken his legs, fur and sinew wrapped around animalistic joints.

But it was his face that rooted you in place.

Black hair hung wild and untamed around sharp, angular features. His yellow eyes burned like embers in the darkness, fixed unrelentingly on you and Sable. And when he parted his lips, fangs appeared. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Cause then he tilted his head back—and howled.

The sound was deafening, ripping through the trees and echoing in the fog. It wasn’t a human scream, nor was it the howl of an animal. It was something in between, guttural and monstrous, vibrating deep in your chest like a death knell.

Sable gasped sharply, stumbling against you as her hands flew to her ears. “Go! Go!” she screamed.

You didn’t need to be told twice. The Beast lowered his gaze, his lips pulling back into a feral snarl, and then he moved.

It was almost too fast to process. One moment he was standing still, his claws flexing—then he dropped to all fours and charged.

You ran harder than you ever had before, pulling Sable with you as the sound of claws and snapping branches grew louder behind you. Your lungs burned, your legs ached, but you didn’t dare slow down. Each thud of his movement felt like a countdown, and you knew if he caught you, it was over.

Don’t stop. Don’t look back.

But even as you sprinted through the forest, weaving between trees and leaping over roots, you could still hear him. The low growl, the heavy breath. He was toying with you—getting closer, letting you hear him hunt.

“Split up!” you shouted to Sable, shoving her forward as the two of you reached a fork in the path. She hesitated for a split second, fear painted across her face, but she nodded and darted left while you veered right.

It wasn’t long before you realized he had made his choice too.

The sounds of his pursuit didn’t fade into the distance. The thundering steps—furred limbs pounding against the earth—stayed close. Too close. You risked a glance over your shoulder and cursed under your breath. He was coming for you.

“Of course you’re following me!” you hissed through gritted teeth, adrenaline flooding your system. Your legs burned with effort, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Up ahead, salvation presented itself in the form of a wooden pallet propped precariously between two crates. A quick escape. You angled toward it, lungs screaming for air, and forced yourself to move faster. You could hear him gaining on you, his growl vibrating through the air like a warning.

As soon as you reached the pallet, you grabbed the edge and slammed it down with all your strength. The wood crashed onto the ground, kicking up dust, and you whipped around, a shaky smile breaking across your face as you realized you’d timed it perfectly.

You’d stunned him.

The Beast halted mid-pursuit, the heavy pallet pinning him momentarily. His claws curled against the wood, his lips pulling back in a feral snarl. You allowed yourself a triumphant exhale—until his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

Your blood ran cold.

His eyes were no longer yellow. They were crimson—deep and glowing, like freshly spilled blood. The shift was immediate, like something inside him had awakened. The low growl that rumbled from his chest sent shivers down your spine, and for the first time, you noticed something you’d missed before.

The collar.

Thick and black, it wrapped around his neck like a cruel shackle. And on the front—glinting faintly in the dim light—were small silver bells. The bells. That’s where the sound had come from. Every movement, every step, was punctuated by that unnerving chime.

Your breath hitched as realization struck. The bells weren’t just for sound. They were a warning.

“Shit,” you whispered, backing up instinctively.

He growled again, louder this time, the sound vibrating through your chest. Then, in a blur of motion, he brought his clawed arm down on the pallet with enough force to shatter it. Wood splintered and exploded outward, shards clattering against the ground as the remains of your so-called “safety” crumbled at his feet.

You didn’t wait to see what he would do next. You turned and ran.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you darted through the underbrush, branches snapping and whipping against your face. Behind you, you could hear him—close enough that you swore you could feel his breath against the back of your neck.

You didn’t make it far before you felt it.

The whoosh of air as something massive swung toward you. A sharp, burning pain exploded across your back, and you screamed as claws tore through your shirt and raked deep into your skin. The impact sent you stumbling forward, your legs nearly giving out from the shock, but you pushed through it.

Move. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.

Gritting your teeth through the pain, you spotted salvation up ahead: a small, rotting building with a open window. You sprinted toward it, ignoring the sticky warmth of blood seeping through your clothes.

As you reached the window, you grabbed the frame and vaulted over with everything you had, landing hard on the floor inside. The room was dim, filled with scattered debris, the smell of mold heavy in the air.

You turned, panting, your hand pressing instinctively against the wound on your back. Your heart sank when you saw him.

The Beast was already leaping after you.

His massive form vaulted the window with terrifying ease, the bells on his collar jingling faintly as he landed. His crimson eyes—still glowing like coals—locked onto you and didn’t waver. He wasn’t looking around. He wasn’t searching. He was focused, utterly and completely.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, stumbling backward. “That’s gotta be a perk.”

It had to be. You’d seen this kind of precision before—Killers who always seemed to know where you were, whether it was through a heartbeat, scratch marks, or some cruel Entity-given power. But this? Those eyes were more than just for show. They were locked onto you like a heat-seeking missile.

There was no time to think.

You bolted for the door on the far side of the room, practically throwing yourself through it. You could hear him behind you, his footsteps heavy but fast, the sound of claws scraping against the wood.

As soon as you were outside, you didn’t stop—you started looping the building. It was a classic move, one every survivor knew by instinct. Buildings meant walls, walls meant obstacles, and obstacles meant a chance to survive.

You rounded the first corner, adrenaline surging through your veins. The pounding of his pursuit was right behind you, relentless. You glanced back just in time to see him skid around the corner, his glaive dragging through the dirt with a metallic scrape.

Keep moving.

The building’s loop wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to give you a sliver of breathing room. Every time you turned a corner or ducked through an opening, you’d gain a precious half-second before the sound of claws and bells filled the air again, signaling that he was still there. Still chasing.

You risked a quick glance behind you, just once, and instantly regretted it.

His red eyes were still locked onto you. Even as you looped him, even as you vaulted and sprinted, he hadn’t faltered. If anything, he looked… determined. Like the hunt was enjoyable.

“God, I hate creature Killers,” you growled under your breath as you rounded the building again, already trying to think of your next move.

You couldn’t loop forever. He was too fast, too precise. And worse, the burn of the slashes on your back was starting to slow you down. You needed a plan—and fast.

It wasn’t hard for him to catch up.

You’d pushed your body to the brink, but it wasn’t enough. Before you could make another desperate turn around the building, you felt the glaive swipe across your legs with brutal precision. Pain shot through you as your knees buckled, and you collapsed onto the ground with a groan.

Dust and dirt kicked up around you as you hit the earth hard. For a moment, you just lay there, dazed, trying to breathe through the pain. Your ears rang, your body felt heavy, but instinct kicked in—you had to move.

With trembling arms, you started crawling. You didn’t know where you were going, but anywhere was better than staying there.

Don’t stop, you thought, dragging yourself forward inch by inch. Your blood left a streak in the dirt as you moved, but it didn’t matter. You had to—

A shadow loomed over you.

You froze, your head snapping to the side as you caught sight of it—a massive, bloodied paw. It dug into the earth by your face, the claws curling into the dirt with a sickening scrape. They were long, black, and sharp enough to skewer you where you lay.

You turned onto your back with a shaky gasp, dread settling deep in your chest as you looked up—and up.

The Beast stood over you, towering and monstrous, his hulking form casting you in shadow. Up close, the details were even worse. Sharp jaw. Unnaturally long fangs, his nose perfectly straight but twitching faintly, as if he was smelling you. The red glow of his eyes had narrowed into thin slits, like a predator zeroing in on its prey. Drool hung from his parted mouth, dripping down to the dirt next to you.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

Your gasp caught in your throat when he leaned down.

Closer.

The world seemed to slow as he brought his face near yours, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. It fanned across your skin, hot and heavy, as though he was tasting the air around you. Then he inhaled—a long, deliberate breath that sent a shiver down your spine.

Somewhere deep in his chest, you heard it. A rumble. Low and resonant, like a growl—but there was something else in it. Something almost… pleased.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stared up at him, wide-eyed, unable to look away.

Finally, he pulled back, just far enough for you to see the edges of his sharp grin. His lips curled as his gaze remained locked onto yours, and when he spoke, his voice rolled out in a deep, guttural tone—one that sounded as though it hadn’t been used in years.

“You… run well.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, your mind reeling. His voice was gravelly, rough around the edges, yet disturbingly clear. There was something undeniably human in the way he spoke—twisted and broken, but human all the same.

You blinked up at him, your throat dry, unable to form a response.

The Beast tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing. “But you’re slow now.”

The way he said it—it wasn’t mocking. It was observational, like he was analyzing you, trying to figure you out. He crouched lower, his furred claws pressing deeper into the dirt, his bells jingling faintly with the movement.

You flinched as his glaive scraped against the ground beside you, the noise grating against your ears.

“What are you?” you croaked, your voice barely audible, trembling as the question left your lips.

The Beast’s grin widened, and the crimson glow in his eyes seemed to burn brighter.

“Hunter.”

And with that one word, he reached down. The moment his clawed hand wrapped around you, you knew what was coming.

“No, no!” you gasped, but it didn’t matter. With an unsettling ease, the Beast picked you up as though you weighed nothing and slung you over his shoulder. His grip was firm—too firm—and you felt the sharp edges of his claws pressing into your side, a silent warning not to squirm too much.

Like hell that was going to stop you.

You immediately started wiggling in his hold, kicking your legs and twisting your upper body, desperate to break free. You’d done this before—countless times. It was second nature to fight, to struggle, to buy yourself just a few more precious seconds. But this time, it was different.

Your movements barely fazed him.

The Beast huffed out a low growl, annoyed more than anything, like you were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. His bells chimed softly with every heavy step, each sound growing closer and closer to dread.

“Let go, you bastard!” you hissed, pounding a fist against his back. It was like hitting solid stone beneath that cloak of fur.

Before you could muster another attempt, you felt him stop. Your stomach dropped. You turned your head just enough to see it—the hook, rusty and towering.

“No—wait, wait—!”

You screamed as the sharp, unforgiving metal pierced into your shoulder, the pain blinding. Your body arched involuntarily as you were hoisted upward, the hook locking you in place like a gruesome marionette. Tears pricked at your eyes as you gasped for breath, the white-hot sting radiating through your arm and chest.

You forced yourself to look down through blurry vision, trying to center yourself despite the pain. That’s when you noticed it.

The Beast had turned away from you, his posture rigid. His yellow eyes—no longer the deep red from before—snapped toward something unseen, a faint snarl escaping his lips. It was subtle at first, just the twitch of his ear and a low growl that rattled through the air. Then, without warning, he took off.

Fast.

You barely had time to process it. One second, he was standing still, and the next, he was gone, his speed a blur that rivaled the Nurse when she blinked through the map. His bells jingled sharply, fading into the distance like some terrible alarm.

“Shit,” you muttered, panting as you hung from the hook. You had seen Killers leave quickly before—Michael Myers, Ghostface, even Wraith when they heard someone nearby—but this? This was different. His speed was unnatural, like he wasn’t just hunting—he was responding.

Someone had grabbed his attention.

Clenching your teeth, you scanned the area. The thick fog made it impossible to see much, but you knew better than to waste time. With shaky hands, you reached up and gripped the hook, biting back a scream as the movement sent pain jolting through your shoulder. You had to get down.

With one sharp tug, you gasped as you unhooked yourself. The motion sent you tumbling to the ground, your knees hitting the dirt hard as the metallic sting in your shoulder flared hot.

For a second, you didn’t move, staring at the ground in disbelief. You did it.

You turned your head, breathing heavily as you glanced upward, seeing the Entity’s claws frozen—hanging mid-air, its barbed talon twitching as though struggling against something unseen.

You scrambled to your feet, clutching your injured shoulder as you stumbled away from the hook. Pain pulsed with every step, but you pushed through it, dragging yourself behind two massive boulders just far enough from where you’d been hooked.

The moment you were hidden, you sagged to the ground, leaning against the cold stone. Your fingers shook as you fumbled for your med-kit, flipping it open and pulling out a roll of bandages. “C’mon, c’mon,” you muttered, forcing yourself to focus.

You could hear the forest around you, the eerie quiet broken only by the occasional whisper of wind and the faint creak of trees swaying in the fog. But just as you started wrapping your shoulder, the peace shattered.

A distant, loud howl cut through the silence.

You froze, the sound rumbling across the map like thunder. It was long and drawn-out, echoing ominously through the thick fog, sending chills racing down your spine.

Somewhere far off, a generator powered up with a loud hum. You flinched at the noise, your heart racing. The sound was like a signal, bright and sharp against the quiet, a neon sign for the killer to follow.

Then, almost immediately after, you heard it: two survivors screaming.

“Shit,” you whispered, yanking the bandages tight around your shoulder with a hiss. You ignored the sting, forcing yourself to finish patching up as quickly as possible. You couldn’t afford to waste time, not when the Beast was on the prowl.

Sliding the med-kit back into your belt, you pressed your back against the boulder and carefully peered around its edge.

He’s fast, you thought, replaying everything in your mind. Faster than most killers you’d faced. And those howls… they weren’t just for show. He was tracking you, tracking everyone.

And if he had heard those screams—if he was responding like he had with you—then two survivors were about to have a very bad time.

--

You crouched by the generator, your fingers working quickly to untangle wires and tighten bolts as the machine clunked and whirred under your touch. The hum of progress filled the tense silence, but your eyes never stopped darting to the treeline. You scanned the fog for any sign of movement—any flash of red eyes, any sound of bells.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

There were no growls. No howls. No heavy, animalistic breathing. For a brief moment, you let yourself believe you were safe.

Then, a distant scream pierced the stillness, sharp and panicked.

You froze, your hands hovering above the generator as you closed your eyes with a sigh. “Again?” you muttered under your breath. He was relentless—hunting like a wolf with no intention of letting up.

You shook your head and got back to work, forcing your hands to steady. There wasn’t much else you could do. The generator needed to be fixed, and the only way anyone was escaping this hellhole was through powered gates.

The next time you glanced up, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

Sable limped toward you, her form emerging from the fog like a ghost. She looked like she’d barely escaped—her clothes were torn, and fresh blood streaked down her leg from a deep gash. Her face was pale and damp with sweat, but she still managed to flash you a weak grin as she knelt beside the generator.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Sable muttered, already reaching for the wires to help. Her voice wavered, but her hands moved with practiced precision. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” you shot back, though your brow furrowed as you spared her a quick glance. “But you look bad. Did he—”

“Caught me near the edge of the map. The bastard’s too fast, but…” She paused to take a sharp breath, wincing as she shifted her weight. “I got away. Barely.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “He hooked you?”

“No, but it was close.” Sable’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I think he wanted me to get away.”

That made you pause. “What?”

She didn’t answer immediately, her hands fumbling with a stubborn wire. “I don’t know how to explain it. He had me. He could’ve downed me completely. But he just… watched me. Like he was testing me.”

You frowned, unsettled by the idea. “You sure he didn’t just screw up?”

Sable let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Not a chance. He’s too precise. The way he hunts, the way he moves—he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s like…” She trailed off, biting her lip as the generator sparked briefly to life. “It’s like he’s playing with us.”

You tightened your grip on the wrench, trying to ignore the chill that crawled up your spine. You didn’t want to think about that. The Beast was already terrifying enough without the idea that he was toying with you.

“Let’s just get this gen done,” you muttered, shaking your head. “We can freak out later.”

Sable gave a small nod, both of you falling silent as you focused back on the task at hand. The generator rattled and sparked, the noise jarring in the quiet forest. You worked faster, both of you aware of how loud it was, how easy it would be for him to find you here.

Minutes stretched on, and you let yourself hope. Maybe you’d finish it. Maybe you’d—

A low, distant howl echoed through the fog.

You both froze.

“Shit,” Sable whispered, her face going pale.

The howl was closer this time, vibrating in your chest like the low growl of an engine. You heard the faint jingle of bells somewhere in the distance, growing louder—closer.

Your stomach dropped. He was coming.

The generator sparked again, and you and Sable flinched at the noise. Your hands were a blur, working faster now as dread crept up your spine. Every second counted. Every wire fixed, every bolt turned brought you closer to escape.

But then—

“That’s twice now,” a voice rumbled behind you. Low. Deep. Familiar. “You really ought to pay more attention to what’s around you.”

Your blood ran cold.

You and Sable froze mid-action, your breaths hitching in unison. Slowly—so slowly—you turned around, dread bubbling up like bile.

He was there.

Crouched in the shadows of the fog just a few meters away, half-hidden behind the curve of a tree. His yellow eyes were locked on the two of you, unblinking and unrelenting.

From this angle, you could see him clearer than before. His long glaive rested lazily in his normal hand, its blade still slick with fresh blood. His furred legs were bent as though ready to pounce at any second, his sharp claws digging into the dirt beneath him. And yet… he wasn’t rushing forward. Not yet.

Sable’s breath hitched beside you, her fingers curling tightly around a wrench as if it would do her any good. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…” she whispered.

The Beast tilted his head slightly, his yellow eyes narrowing as a low rumble vibrated in his chest. His gaze slid between the two of you like he was deciding which one to strike first.

“Run,” you whispered to Sable, not daring to break eye contact with him. “On three.”

“He’s too close,” she hissed back, her voice shaking.

“I don’t care—three!”

Before she could argue, you grabbed Sable’s wrist and yanked her with you as you bolted to the side, darting between the thick trees. A sharp, guttural growl erupted behind you, and you didn’t need to look back to know he was coming.

The bells. You heard the bells.

They rang in quick, chaotic bursts, each chime louder than the last as he pursued you. Leaves crunched and twigs snapped under his heavy, relentless strides, the sound too fast—too close.

“He’s on us!” Sable cried out, stumbling as she tried to keep pace.

You pushed her forward, urging her on. “Move!”

The forest blurred as you ran, your heartbeat roaring in your ears. You risked a quick glance over your shoulder, and your stomach dropped.

He was right there.

Running on all fours, his glaive held low, his yellow eyes locked directly on you, his movements unnervingly fluid—unnervingly natural.

He’s toying with us.

“Split up!” you shouted, veering sharply to the right.

Sable cursed but didn’t hesitate, darting left as you broke off in the opposite direction. You weaved through the dense trees, ducking under low-hanging branches and leaping over exposed roots. Your lungs burned, but you didn’t dare slow down.

The bells stopped.

You skidded to a halt behind a thick tree, pressing your back against its rough bark as you tried to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell sharply, your shoulder aching where the hook had pierced you earlier.

Silence.

Where is he?

You froze when you heard Sable’s scream cut through the forest, sharp and gut-wrenching. You exhaled shakily, your fingers tightening around the edge of the tree as you processed what had just happened. He went after Sable. A pang of guilt flared in your chest, but it didn’t linger long—survival didn’t allow for much remorse. Sable knew the rules of the game as well as you did.

Without wasting another second, you turned back the way you came, darting quietly through the trees until you reached the half-finished generator. It sat there waiting, wires exposed and sparking faintly.

You crouched down and got back to work, your hands moving with a practiced urgency. Your ears were still on high alert, listening for the telltale jingling of bells or the rustle of something heavy moving through the fog.

Above you, the sky let out a deep, thunderous rumble, and the faint hum of the Entity’s claws slicing through the air echoed through the forest. Your stomach sank as you realized what that meant—Sable had been sacrificed.

Hooked twice already, you thought grimly, your expression tightening. I didn’t even realize.

You pushed the thought aside and focused on the task in front of you. There was no time to dwell.

"Sorry, Sable," you muttered under your breath, twisting a stubborn wire until it clicked into place. "Guess you’re out."

The generator sputtered, the sound growing louder as it inched closer to completion.

When the generator let out a loud, jolting clunk as the last bolt clicked into place. Sparks flew, and its lights blared to life, piercing through the thick fog.

You didn’t wait.

The second the generator roared to life, you took off running, your feet pounding against the forest floor. You knew better than to linger.

Two more. Just two more.

The thought became your mantra as you ducked low, weaving through the dense trees and tall grass. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out the sound of the forest around you.

You needed a new plan. The others were still out there somewhere, working—hopefully—on the last remaining generators. If you could find one, or them, you’d have a chance.

You slid into a crouch behind a massive log, taking a second to catch your breath and survey your surroundings.

Then you heard it.

A faint jingling.

Shit.

You stayed low, your pulse spiking as the sound of bells grew louder, each chime like nails scraping across your nerves. You scanned the trees, your eyes darting wildly, trying to catch any sign of movement.

A shadow.

You flinched when you saw it—a dark silhouette moving through the fog, slow and deliberate. He was hunting again, his glaive dragging faintly against the dirt as he moved.

You held your breath and stayed perfectly still, your body coiled tight like a spring. He hadn’t seen you yet. You could wait him out—let him pass.

The jingling slowed. Stopped.

You frowned.

Why did he stop?

Before you could react, a low growl rumbled behind you.

No. No, no, no—

You spun around just in time to see him emerging from the fog towards you, his yellow eyes locked directly on you. His glaive gleamed in the pale light, slick and ready, his sharp claws flexing at his side.

You didn’t think—you ran.

He was on you immediately, the bells ringing out in chaotic bursts as he gave chase. You zigzagged through the trees, vaulting over fallen logs and ducking under branches. Your lungs burned, but you didn’t stop—couldn’t stop.

In the distance, you spotted something—a structure. Another shack.

You darted toward it, adrenaline pushing you forward as the growls and bells got closer, louder. You risked a glance over your shoulder, and your stomach dropped.

He was gaining on you.

With a desperate burst of speed, you vaulted through the window of the shack, landing hard on the other side. You stumbled but kept moving, running for the exit on the far end.

A loud crash echoed behind you as the Beast vaulted through the same window, his crimson eyes locked on you once again.

“You’re fast,” he growled, his deep, unused voice vibrating through the air, “but not fast enough.”

You ignored him, barreling out of the shack and looping back around, trying to buy yourself time. You knew he was faster but you had experience. Loops. Pallets. Technique.

You screamed as the Beast’s claws suddenly sliced across your back, sharp and unrelenting. Pain exploded through you, white-hot and disorienting, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Gritting your teeth, you pushed through the agony and darted around the corner of some cages—rusted metal stacked haphazardly.

Your heart hammered as you sprinted, the sound of his heavy steps pounding behind you. You ran around as you desperately tried to put distance between you and him. Each turn felt like an eternity, every breath burning in your chest.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you skidded to a halt on one side of the cages, gasping for air.

The Beast stopped too.

You froze, your body tense as you watched him through the gaps in the rusted bars. He stood on the opposite side, unmoving. His yellow eyes, glowing faintly in the dark fog, stared directly into yours—sharp, unblinking, predatory.

And then, to your horror, he straightened up.

His hand reached over his shoulder, and you watched as he pulled his glaive from his back with a deliberate, almost casual motion. The blade gleamed darkly in the faint light as he spun it around his hand once—twice—with an unsettling ease.

The growl that followed was deep, rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest, but there was something else there. Amusement.

“Done running, little bunny?” His voice was low and rough, the words dripping with condescension.

Your blood ran cold. Little bunny.

“Shut up,” you spat, though your voice wavered.

He chuckled—he actually chuckled. The sound was dark, guttural, but far too human. It made your skin crawl.

“You’re a scrappy one, I’ll give you that,” he continued, tilting his head slightly as he dragged the glaive along the ground. “But you’ve been running for nothing.”

You frowned, your breath still coming in shallow gasps. “What?”

His eyes seemed to gleam as his lips pulled back into something halfway between a smirk and a snarl. “You haven’t noticed yet, have you?”

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach. “Noticed what?”

“You’re alone,” he said simply.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What—?”

He stepped closer to the cage wall, his gaze never leaving you. “You’re the last one left, little bunny. All your friends? Gone.”

You felt the ground shift beneath you, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You’re lying.”

Another rumbling chuckle. “Am I?”

The weight of his words crashed over you. The distant screams, the sound of the Entity rumbling in the sky—it all clicked into place. You hadn’t seen or heard anyone since Sable was taken. You thought someone else must still be working on the last generators, that maybe you had a chance.

But there was no one.

You were alone.

The Beast twirled his glaive again, the movement smooth and practiced. “You’ve fought well, but there’s nowhere left to run now.”

You tightened your grip on your side, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you met his predatory stare head-on. “Yeah?” you shot back, forcing your voice not to waver. “We’ll see about that.”

His grin widened, showing those gleaming fangs. “That’s the spirit.”

And then he moved.

You bolted the moment he lunged, the sharp whistle of his glaive cutting through the air as it missed you by mere inches. Your legs burned, your lungs screamed, but you pushed through, adrenaline surging through your veins. Run. Run. Run.

The Beast’s snarls echoed behind you, low and feral, punctuated by the pounding of his paws against the dirt. Every sound he made—growls, the snapping of his jaws, the guttural rumble of his breaths—sent chills racing down your spine.

You vaulted through a broken window of an old cabin, landing hard and stumbling but managing to stay upright. Without hesitation, you sprinted to the door on the other side, pushing it open and darting back out into the fog.

He’s still coming.

A heavy crash followed as he smashed through the window, unwilling to waste time following your path.

“Run faster, little bunny,” he growled from behind you, voice vibrating with dark amusement.

You hit a pallet, slamming it down just as he reached for you. The pallet struck his claws and chest with a loud crack, stopping him for a brief moment.

His red eyes snapped to you through the wooden slats, glowing with a furious intensity. Saliva dripped from his open jaws, long strings of it trailing to the ground as his chest heaved. With one clawed hand, he punched the pallet and crushed it into splinters.

You didn’t wait to see more—you ran.

Vaulting another window, you kept going, looping around the same structures, buying yourself time. He didn’t stop. No matter how many pallets you threw down, no matter how many windows you vaulted, the Beast was relentless.

You could hear him—feel him—close behind. The slap of his claws on the ground mixed with heavy breaths and the eerie jingling of the bells around his collar.

You passed through what looked like a slaughtered campsite—shredded tents, broken traps scattered across the dirt. A bloodied deer carcass laid limply on the ground, stomach ripped open. Nearby, a hunting lodge sat in decay, its walls splattered with claw marks. You didn’t slow, vaulting through the shattered lodge window.

As you looped through, your eyes darted across the environment.

A ruined jeep, long abandoned and covered in deep gashes. A pile of deer antlers stacked near an overturned trailer. Rusted cages lined with old bones—animal and human.

Everywhere you looked, the theme was clear. Hunting.

This was his map.

Everything—every structure, every grim detail—centered on the hunt. It was like you’d been dropped into his personal territory, a domain built to trap prey.

And right now, you were the prey.

You dashed between two more carcasses, your breathing ragged as you tried to keep moving. You could hear him still—too close, too fast.

“Run, little bunny.”

The words echoed in your head as you hit another pallet. You slammed it down just in time, hearing him growl as the wood cracked under his claws.

But this couldn’t last forever.

Your lungs were on fire, legs trembling as you stumbled around the thick trunk of a massive tree. His claws whistled through the air behind you, grazing your back just enough to tear the fabric of your shirt but leaving your skin intact.

And then you saw it.

The hatch.

It was nestled behind a massive fallen tree, partially hidden in the fog and decay, but there it was—your way out.

Your heart leapt in your chest as adrenaline surged through you. This was it.

You veered sharply to the right, pushing yourself faster than you thought possible. The fallen tree was a jagged mess of roots and splintered wood, but it didn’t matter. You scrambled up and over it, your hands scraping bark and dirt as you propelled yourself forward.

A deafening snarl erupted from behind you, so close it sent shivers crawling across your skin.

He’s right there.

But it didn’t matter—because you jumped.

You threw yourself toward the hatch, gravity pulling you down into its dark void. For a split second, you heard him—his enraged growl echoing through the trees, his claws slamming into the ground just inches too late.

And then you fell.

Everything went black for a heartbeat.

When you opened your eyes, you were back at the campfire.

The soft crackling of flames greeted you, warm and soothing compared to the oppressive silence of the fog. You landed on the damp ground in a heap, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

You were okay.

You glanced around, the familiar sights of the survivor camp slowly coming into focus. The fire flickered, its glow dancing across the empty logs and scattered supplies.

Your hands shook as you pressed them to the ground beneath you, grounding yourself, your heart still racing.

You did it.

You survived.

The realization hit you like a wave, leaving you breathless all over again. You were the first to survive the Beast.

The first.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you sat back, wiping the sweat and dirt from your face.

--

After that trial, when you managed to crawl into one of the ramshackle tents at the survivor camp, exhaustion dragged you under almost instantly. Your body was drained, and the adrenaline crash left you hollow and heavy. Sleep overtook you like a wave pulling you down into the deep.

But rest didn’t come easily.

The dream came swiftly, vivid and all too real.

You were back in the forest—his forest. The trees loomed tall, twisted and unkind, the ground littered with sharp branches and the glimmer of moonlight cutting through the fog. You could hear him in the distance: the soft jingle of the bells, the heavy thump of his claws on the ground.

You ran.

Your lungs burned as you tore through the darkness, stumbling over roots and ducking beneath low branches. But no matter how fast you moved, he was always there—just behind you. You could feel his presence, the weight of his stare pressing into your back.

“Run, little bunny,” his voice rumbled, dark and teasing, drifting through the fog like smoke.

You glanced back—and there he was. The Beast.

His crimson eyes glowed in the darkness, locked on you with unwavering focus. He chased you on all fours, his sharp claws tearing into the earth as he moved with an unnatural grace. His glaive was gone, leaving him raw and feral, his fangs gleaming in the dim light.

You screamed, pushing yourself faster, your body aching with every step.

And then—he caught you.

It happened so suddenly, you barely had time to process it. A sharp weight hit you from behind, sending you tumbling to the ground. Before you could scramble away, his body pinned you down, trapping you beneath him.

You froze, chest heaving as you stared up at him. Up close, he looked even more terrifying—wild and untamed, his mouth parted just enough to reveal sharp fangs, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

But then, something shifted.

He didn’t harm you.

Instead, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you in his clawed arms as though you weighed nothing. You tried to struggle, but it was no use—his grip was firm, unrelenting, and yet… gentle.

He carried you deeper into the forest, further into the unknown, until you reached a cave nestled within the hills. It was dark and cool inside, the air heavy with the smell of earth and stone. He set you down carefully on a soft pile of fur—furs like his cloak.

You pressed yourself against the cave wall, unsure whether to scream or cry, but he only crouched before you, his red eyes staring into yours.

“Mine,” he growled, the word rumbling deep in his chest like a purr. His voice was dark and heavy, yet strangely… soft.

You blinked up at him, trembling. “W-what?”

“Mine,” he repeated, his hand brushed your cheek with shocking gentleness. The way he touched you sent shivers down your spine.

He leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours, his breath warm as it ghosted over your skin. “My bunny. Mine to keep.”

The growls in his voice softened into something sweet, almost melodic, as though he were coaxing you to stay calm. It should have terrified you—it did terrify you—but there was something unsettlingly comforting about the way he spoke.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.

And then you woke up.

You shot up in your makeshift bedroll, a strangled gasp escaping your throat as your heart pounded violently in your chest. Your hands gripped the thin blanket, sweat cooling on your skin.

You looked around frantically, the familiar interior of the cabin grounding you. It was just a dream. Just a dream.

But it felt so real.

You pressed a shaky hand to your forehead, trying to calm your racing heart.

It was just a dream…

A dream.

Sleep was out of the question after that. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see him—his crimson gaze, his claws brushing against your skin, his voice growling.

With a frustrated sigh, you kicked off the thin blanket and stood up, walking out of the cabin. Your thoughts were too loud, your body still tingling with the residual terror—and something else you didn’t want to name.

I need to clear my head.

You started walking, keeping close to the edges of the survivor camp but wandering far enough to feel alone. You let the quiet of the place settle around you, your boots crunching softly against the dirt.

Eventually, you found yourself near the invisible barrier that separated the survivors from them—the killers. You weren’t even sure why you wandered so close. Curiosity? Stupidity? Maybe you just needed to remind yourself where the line was drawn.

But then you froze.

Two figures stood just beyond the thin veil of fog.

The Trickster and Ghostface.

Their presence sent a cold shock through your chest, and you instinctively took a step back. But it was too late—they’d seen you. Trickster tilted his head, a grin already curling across his lips, and Ghostface’s mask turned to you.

“Well, well, well,” Trickster drawled, his voice dripping with wicked amusement. He leaned casually against a tree, his golden eyes practically glowing as he looked you over. “If it isn’t the Beast’s bunny.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

Ghostface let out a low, chuckling hum, his gloved hand tracing the edge of his knife as he stepped closer. “Oh, don’t play dumb. We know. You gave him quite the wild ride, sweetheart.”

You felt your face flush hot with anger and embarrassment. “Shut up,” you snapped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Trickster cackled, his laughter loud and sharp, the sound echoing eerily in the fog. “Oh, come on. He came back furious after your little escape. Threw a fit like I’ve never seen. It was delicious.”

Ghostface chimed in, his tone teasing but low. “You’re all he could talk about, too. It’s like you’re his personal obsession now.” He mimicked the Beast’s deep growl mockingly: ‘Bunny.’

Your heart hammered in your chest, and you clenched your fists at your sides. “I don’t care what he said.”

“Mm, but you do care, don’t you?” Trickster purred, his smile widening as he leaned closer to the invisible line that separated you. “I bet you’re wondering why you’re so special. Why he didn’t mori you when he had the chance.”

“Leave me alone,” you hissed, taking a step back.

Ghostface tilted his head, the white of his mask gleaming through the fog. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you like his attention? After all, he went easy on you. That doesn’t happen often, you know.”

Trickster tapped a clawed finger against his temple. “You should feel honored, little bunny. Not every survivor gets a pet name.”

You glared at them, your skin crawling under their relentless teasing. You wanted to scream at them, to tell them to go back to their side of the fog and leave you alone, but you knew better. Picking a fight with killers—even ones that couldn’t touch you here—was asking for trouble.

Instead, you turned on your heel and stalked away, their laughter following you like a shadow.

“Sweet dreams, bunny!” Trickster called out behind you, voice dripping with mockery.

You didn’t look back.

Your head spun as you walked further into the camp, their words replaying in your mind. The Beast’s bunny. His obsession. Why didn’t he mori you when he had the chance?

You pressed a shaky hand to your forehead, frustration and unease settling deep in your chest. Why didn’t he?

--

The drop into the trial was as dizzying as always—the world around you materializing in a disorienting rush of fog and cold air. You hit the ground with a stumble, steadying yourself with a sharp breath. But as soon as you looked up, your heart sank.

No.

No, no, no.

Tall, twisted trees loomed in every direction, their jagged silhouettes clawing at the sickly sky. Bushes dense enough to hide anything rustled faintly in the breeze, and the unmistakable scent of damp earth and decay filled your nose. Ahead, you spotted the broken remains of a hunting lodge, its rotting wood and shattered windows familiar. Then, a flash of metal caught your eye—the glint of a rusted, blood-streaked hunting trap half-buried in the dirt.

Your blood ran cold.

You were on his map.

“Damn it,” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper, but the words echoed loud in your head.

Your stomach twisted as you remembered the last trial, his relentless pursuit, the flash of red in his eyes, the scrape of his claws.

“Get a grip,” you whispered to yourself. You couldn’t afford to freeze up now—not here, not on his turf.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped your flashlight and started moving, staying low as you weaved between the trees. Every step you took felt heavier than the last, like the map itself knew you were here—like he knew.

The broken-down jeep came into view, its rusting shell half-buried in leaves. You recognized it instantly—another landmark of his hunting ground. Just past it, you spotted the faint silhouette of a generator.

Focus, you told yourself. Find the gens. Fix them. Get out.

You crept closer, crouched low and trying not to make a sound. As you reached the generator, you knelt down and set your flashlight beside you.

You swallowed and started to work, your hands shaking slightly as you connected wires and tightened bolts. The hum of the generator grew louder with every adjustment, breaking the oppressive silence just a little.

But then you heard it.

A low, deep rumble carried through the trees.

Your hands froze. You didn’t even breathe as you strained to listen. At first, it sounded distant—almost like thunder rolling in—but then it grew closer. A soft, rhythmic growl, paired with the faint jingle of…

Bells.

Your heart plummeted.

Slowly, you turned your head, your blood running ice-cold. Through the thin veil of fog, you saw him—The Beast.

He stood just at the edge of the clearing, partially obscured by the shadows of the trees. His black cloak swayed faintly in the breeze, the fur draping over his broad shoulders as if it were part of him.

But it was his eyes—those glowing crimson eyes—that locked onto you like a predator spotting prey.

You couldn’t move. For a moment, it was as if the entire world held its breath.

Then he tilted his head, and his lips curled into something too sharp to be called a smile.

“Found you, little bunny.”

The sound of his voice—deep, rough, and unnervingly calm—snapped you out of your frozen state.

Run.

You shot up to your feet, abandoning the half-finished generator. Sprinting through the trees, you heard the pounding of footsteps behind you—heavy and impossibly fast. The bells on his collar rang softly with each movement, a haunting counterpoint to the blood rushing in your ears.

You weaved around trees and over logs, your lungs burning as you pushed yourself to move faster. But no matter how hard you ran, the growls grew louder, closer.

He’s toying with you.

The thought made your chest tighten with panic. You darted past a deer carcass, its lifeless eyes staring blankly, and nearly tripped over a hunting trap concealed in the leaves. A quick glance over your shoulder made your blood freeze.

He was right there.

Running on all fours, his claws dug into the dirt with every step, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow. Drool dripped from his snarling mouth, and those red eyes—those damn eyes—never left you.

You turned sharply, sprinting toward a cluster of old crates and barrels. The familiar sight of a pallet gave you hope, and you grabbed hold of it, shoving it down just as he lunged forward. The pallet crashed to the ground, momentarily blocking his path.

You didn’t wait to see what he’d do next.

Vaulting over a window in a broken shack, you stumbled inside, gasping for air. Your heart thundered in your chest, but you seized the moment. The shack was small and dark, its rotting walls barely holding together, but the row of lockers against one wall caught your eye. Hiding was risky, you knew that, but running blindly wouldn’t get you far—not against him.

Quickly, you slipped into one of the lockers, squeezing yourself into the cramped space. The door creaked softly as you pulled it shut, and you winced, holding your breath as you pressed your body back as far as it would go.

You put a trembling hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to stay silent. Through the thin gaps in the locker, you could see into the room—shadows cast from the broken windows danced across the splintered floor. For a few agonizing seconds, there was nothing but silence.

Then you heard it.

The faint clink of bells.

Your stomach dropped.

The door to the shack creaked as it swung open, and the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the room. Slow, deliberate steps—he wasn’t in a hurry. He knew you were here.

Through the locker’s slats, you caught glimpses of him. He prowled into view, hunched slightly forward as he sniffed the air, his claws scraping the wood with every step.

Then he stopped.

Right in the middle of the room.

You bit down on your hand, trying to control your ragged breathing as your chest rose and fell in frantic rhythm. His head tilted slightly, his crimson eyes sweeping the shack as though he could see through the walls. He growled—a low, vibrating sound that rattled in his chest.

“Little bunny,” he called softly, his voice rough and cruelly sweet.

You squeezed your eyes shut, praying he wouldn’t hear the pounding of your heart.

“I can smell you,” he continued, dragging out the words. “You ran so far… fought so hard… yet here you are. Hiding.”

His footsteps began again, the sound of bells chiming with each movement. You peeked through the slats and saw him move toward the lockers. Your blood turned to ice.

He stopped at the first locker.

The metal hinges creaked loudly as he tore the door open. Empty.

A low rumble escaped him—disappointed but patient.

Don’t open this one… don’t open this one, you thought frantically.

You watched as he moved to the second locker.

Your heart was in your throat, your entire body shaking as you clamped your hand harder over your mouth. He gripped the handle of the second locker door, then yanked it open with a growl.

Empty again.

He chuckled darkly, the sound making your skin crawl.

Then he turned to your locker.

You froze, every muscle in your body tensed as you stared through the gaps. His red eyes locked onto the locker door—onto you. You felt it.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, the glaive scraping against the floor as he moved. He was toying with you, savoring the fear that radiated off you in waves.

His clawed hand reached out, wrapping around the handle.

No, no, no—

Suddenly, the faint sound of a generator powering up echoed in the distance.

The Beast paused. His head snapped up, and his growl turned into a snarl. He hesitated for only a moment, then released the locker handle.

You didn’t move. You didn’t breathe.

With one last glare toward your hiding spot, he turned and stalked out of the shack, his bells jingling softly as he disappeared into the fog.

It wasn’t until you couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore that you dared to move.

Your hand fell away from your mouth as you gasped, air rushing into your lungs. You were shaking so badly you nearly fell out of the locker when you pushed the door open.

Slumping against the wall of the shack, you wiped sweat off your forehead and tried to steady your breathing.

That was too close.

“Get it together,” you whispered to yourself, standing up on wobbly legs.

You slipped out of the shack, your steps light as you crept toward the edge of the clearing. The cool air hit your face, but it did nothing to soothe the burn of exhaustion in your chest. Just as you were about to get your bearings, a blood-curdling scream cut through the silence.

Your stomach twisted at the sound of another survivor being hooked. You could almost feel their pain.

Shaking your head, you adjusted your grip on your flashlight and made your way back to the generator you’d started earlier.

The map was eerily quiet now, save for the faint hum of the Entity’s realm and the crunch of leaves beneath your feet.

You eventually spotted the generator up ahead, the same one you’d been working on before everything went sideways. It was tucked between two thick trees, its rusted frame bathed in the faint glow of moonlight.

Crouching down, you wasted no time. Your hands moved quickly, twisting bolts, reconnecting wires, and steadying sparking circuits. The generator let out small electric whines as you worked, and you winced every time it sounded too loud.

Your pulse quickened when you saw the progress bar fill just a little more. You were close—so close. The distant sounds of the map felt muffled as you zoned in on your work. Don’t mess up. Don’t mess up.

Then you heard it.

A growl.

Your hands froze mid-movement. You didn’t dare look up.

The sound was distant at first—like an echo carried by the fog—but it was unmistakable. Him.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, forcing your shaking hands to continue fixing the generator. If you stopped now, it’d all be for nothing.

You twisted one final bolt, and the generator sputtered before roaring to life. Its floodlights lit up the area, and the familiar blaring noise followed, announcing your progress to anyone listening.

Your breath hitched.

And that included him.

Somewhere close by, a howl ripped through the forest. Loud, guttural, and far too close for comfort.

Your eyes snapped up.

The fog shifted unnaturally ahead of you, parting like something monstrous had disturbed it. Through the haze, yellow eyes burned bright as they locked onto you.

Your heart dropped.

“Of course,” you muttered bitterly, turning on your heel and sprinting into the forest without a second thought.

The Beast roared in response, and you could hear the pounding of his claws against the dirt as he gave chase. The bells chimed in time with his steps, their sound twisted and distorted as they echoed behind you.

Trees blurred past you as you ran, leaping over roots and dodging branches that reached out like skeletal hands. You dared a glance over your shoulder and immediately regretted it—he was there, close enough for you to see the gleam of his fangs in the moonlight.

“Move, move, move!” you hissed to yourself, adrenaline pushing you forward as fast as your legs would carry you.

You felt it before you saw it—the sharp, searing pain of claws slicing across your back. The force of the blow sent you stumbling forward, your scream ripping through the fog as blood soaked into your shirt. The Beast snarled behind you, the sound a dark promise that he wasn’t done yet.

Move. Don’t stop.

Gritting your teeth through the pain, you spotted salvation up ahead: a pallet resting between two large trees. You pushed your legs to move faster, ignoring the burning sensation in your muscles as his heavy footsteps closed the distance.

With one final burst of speed, you reached the pallet, and in one fluid motion, you grabbed it and slammed it down with all the strength you had left.

The wood hit the ground with a satisfying thud just as he lunged, the pallet catching him mid-swing. He staggered for a moment, a low growl vibrating through the air as his red eyes locked onto you in fury.

But you weren’t done yet.

With shaky fingers, you flicked your flashlight on and aimed the beam directly at his face. The bright light pierced through the dark fog and hit him square in the eyes.

The Beast recoiled, a guttural snarl ripping from his throat as he jerked his head to the side, blinking furiously against the glare.

It worked.

You let out a shaky breath, a triumphant smile tugging at your lips despite the pain. The flashlight always works. He was blinded, even if just for a moment.

“Sorry, big guy,” you muttered under your breath, already turning on your heel and bolting away.

You didn’t have time to celebrate as you sprinted deeper into the forest, weaving between trees and broken fences.

The pounding of your footsteps against the dirt slowed as you spotted a faint glow through the trees—a generator, partially lit but still sputtering with effort. Relief rushed through you when you recognized three familiar figures huddled around it: Haddie, Ada, and Steve.

You stumbled toward them, blood still trickling from the slash on your back, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Hey!” Haddie called, her sharp gaze snapping to you. “Oh!”

“Jesus,” Steve muttered, already pulling out a med-kit and kneeling beside you. “Sit. You’re not gonna last like this.”

You hesitated for only a moment before sinking to the ground, letting Steve’s steady hands work on patching you up. The sting of antiseptic burned through the haze of adrenaline, but you bit your tongue, trying to focus on Ada and Haddie, who were whispering urgently to each other as they worked on the generator.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words froze in your throat.

The sound came first. Faint, but clear.

Bells.

The soft, eerie jingle carried through the trees, distant at first… but quickly growing louder.

Steve stopped his hands mid-wrap, while Haddie’s and Ada’s both paused.

Slowly, all four of you turned to look behind you.

There, standing just at the edge of the clearing, was him.

His red eyes were glowing in the shadows, piercing through the fog like twin beacons. The glaive in his hand stained with blood, and his massive clawed arm twitched as though eager to tear into flesh again. He tilted his head, his stare locking onto all of you at once.

And then he spoke, his voice a deep, guttural rumble that made something in your stomach tickle.

“I can see you… all of you,” he drawled, his lips pulling back into a sharp grin that revealed rows of teeth. “When you’re together.”

Your heart stopped for a second.

“Oh, shit,” Haddie whispered.

Before anyone could move, the Beast lunged forward, his speed blinding.

“RUN!” Steve shouted, shoving you forward as he scrambled to his feet.

The air erupted in chaos.

You turned just in time to see the Beast barrel into the group, his glaive slashing outward. Haddie screamed as she was hit by the blade. Ada dove for cover behind the generator, her flashlight slipping from her grip.

Steve grabbed your arm, dragging you up as you stumbled.

“Go, go, go!” he yelled.

You bolted into the trees, your legs screaming in protest as pain flared through your back. From behind you, you could hear the heavy thud of the Beast’s footsteps and the ragged sound of his growls.

A scream echoed through the clearing—Haddie’s voice.

You glanced back for a split second and saw him standing over her, his claws raised, his red eyes flicking up to meet yours.

He’s looking at me.

Your stomach twisted, but you forced yourself to keep running, Steve at your side as the two of you crashed through the brush. Branches whipped against your face, the fog curling thicker the deeper you went.

The sound of Haddie's scream suddenly cut through the fog like a blade, sending a shiver of dread through your body. You could barely register the sound of Ada's scream following shortly after.

Tears stung your eyes as the wind howled through the trees, but you blinked them away.

But then you heard it—snap.

The world tilted as a sharp, searing pain shot through your leg, and you collapsed to the ground with a scream.

"Shit!" you gasped, clutching your thigh.

Your hands trembled as you looked down, the panic rising in your chest. You’d stepped into a snare trap. The sharp sting was immediate, its barbed wire coiled tightly around your upper thigh, the more you moves, the more the wire tightened, digging deeper into your skin with every movement, the barbed edges cutting into you like they were meant to hold you there—forever.

“No, no, no,” you panted, struggling to pull yourself free, blood began to trickle down your leg, warm and sticky, as you gasped, the pain making your vision blur.

“Help,” you cried out hoarsely, your voice breaking.

Steve, who had been ahead of you, didn’t hesitate to come back after hearing your scream. He rushed back to your side, his face pale as he looked down at the trap.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he cursed under his breath, kneeling beside you. His hands were frantic as he assessed the trap. “It’s too tight.”

You bit back a groan, trying to hold yourself still, but every small movement made the pain shoot deeper.

“Hold on, just… just hold on, alright?” Steve's voice was steady, despite the panic in his eyes as he worked at the wire. His hands were shaking, but he didn’t stop, trying to loosen it around your leg.

His movements were careful, slow, and you could feel every second ticking by like a countdown. The Beast could be right on top of you, you didn’t know.

“Steve, hurry!” you begged, the tears you had been blinking away now threatening to fall freely.

“I’m trying,” Steve muttered, his teeth clenched as he twisted the snare, trying to get it loose. “You’ve got to stay still, alright? You’re making it worse moving.”

You nodded, fighting against the urge to scream, biting down on your lip as you did your best to remain still.

“I’ve got it,” Steve said finally, relief flooding his voice as the wire loosened just enough for him to work his hands under it and pull your leg free.

You gritted your teeth, ignoring the throbbing pain in your leg as Steve pulled you to your feet. Your muscles screamed in protest, but you couldn’t afford to stop now.

“We need to go—now!” Steve urged, his voice tight with urgency. He glanced over his shoulder, scanning the fog, clearly sensing the Beast’s presence growing closer.

You nodded, swallowing the panic rising in your chest. The last thing you needed right now was to get caught. You limped, your leg barely holding up as you tried to keep pace with Steve, but every step sent a jolt of pain through you.

He kept his pace faster, glancing at you every few seconds to make sure you were still moving. “Just a bit further. We’ve got to make it to the generator—then we can heal, okay?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You were focused entirely on the uneven ground beneath your feet.

And then, just as the rustle of movement caught your ear, Steve spun around, blocking your path. His face was tight with fear.

“He’s close,” he said breathlessly.

You nodded, trying to steady yourself against the pain in your leg, but it was getting harder to move. Every step felt like an eternity.

“Steve…” you whispered, voice cracking. “I don’t know how much longer I can…”

Before you could finish, a blood-curdling howl echoed through the air, the sound unmistakable. The Beast had caught your scent.

"Go! Run!" Steve shouted, urgency in his voice.

You stumbled, torn between the need to run and the instinct to stay with him. "What about you?" you asked, voice strained as the Beast’s growl grew louder.

Steve shot you a look, his expression grim. He didn’t have time to argue. “You heard what he said,” he panted, pulling away slightly. “He can see us when we’re together. We’re better off apart.”

You wanted to protest, to grab his arm and drag him with you, but his eyes were already scanning the fog, watching for any movement. His resolve was set.

He gave you a slight push, his voice soft but firm. “Go.”

Without another word, Steve turned and bolted in the opposite direction, breaking away from you. His footsteps disappeared into the thick fog.

You hesitated for only a moment before you took off running, forcing your legs to move despite the pain.

You were alone now.

You found a quiet place to heal, between two thick trees. The tension in your shoulders was unbearable as you worked, each slow, painful motion making the process feel like it took a lifetime.

But then, a scream.

Steve’s scream.

The sound tore through the fog, sharp and raw. Your heart clenched. The scream was cut short, but it was enough to stop you dead in your tracks.

Steve was on the hook.

Without wasting another second, you groaned as you pushed yourself to your feet, your leg screaming in protest. You couldn’t afford to leave Steve behind. You couldn’t. Not when he was still alive and needed you.

You looked around nervously, trying to get your bearings, but the dense fog made it almost impossible to see anything clearly. You limped toward the source of Steve’s scream, heart pounding, knowing you had to be quick.

You passed by broken trees and fallen branches, your breath quick and shallow. Each step was more painful than the last, but you pushed through it.

The sound of Steve’s struggles echoed faintly ahead, his voice barely audible but enough to urge you forward.

Hang on, Steve. Please hang on, you thought desperately.

When you reached the clearing where the scream had come from, you saw Steve struggling, dangling from a hook.

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t know where Haddie was—if she was even still alive—but Ada? You weren’t sure.

All you knew was that you didn’t see him close by, and so you took the chance. You rushed forward, limping toward Steve, your heart pounding in your chest as you neared the hook.

But then, you heard his voice—a strained shout.

“Stop!” Steve yelled, his voice tight with fear.

You froze, mid-step. Your eyes locked with his, confusion rushing through you. He was staring at you with wide, frantic eyes, almost as if warning you.

You didn’t understand at first, but then you heard it—the subtle scrape of claws on the ground.

From behind the hook, he emerged, his body low to the ground, his yellow eyes fixed on you. His mouth was twisted in something between a snarl and... a smirk? It was unsettling. He wasn’t even trying to hide his hunger now. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your heart skipped a beat as he crawled closer, his sharp claws scraping against the dirt. The bells jingled softly, but it felt like they were ringing in your ears, louder with every passing second.

Your eyes darted between Steve and the Beast. The decision was clear.

Without another thought, you spun on your heel and ran.

Every muscle screamed in protest, but adrenaline was the only thing fueling you now. Branches whipped past you, the fog pressing in around you, blurring your vision. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind you, each thundering step closer than the last.

You heard him, the low growl vibrating in the air, and then the unmistakable sound of his bells—ting-ting-ting. You thought you could feel the ground beneath your feet trembling, his pace quickening as he closed the distance. You tried to cut left, darting around trees in an attempt to break his line of sight, but he was still behind you.

In that moment, you realized the truth: he wasn’t chasing you to catch you. He was chasing you because he enjoyed it. He was savoring this. The thrill, the fear that radiated off you, the helplessness that grew with every passing second. You were his prey. And he was playing with you like a wolf with its catch—only, you weren’t meant to escape.

You felt the slash against your back, a sudden, agonizing pain raking across your side. The scream tore itself from your throat as you stumbled, falling to the ground in a heap. Blood welled up from the wound, pooling around you, but you barely noticed it, your mind too frantic to focus on anything but the Beast who loomed over you.

You turned your head, gasping for air, your vision swimming as you fought to stay conscious. The Beast stepped over you, his massive, clawed feet brushing the dirt, and for a moment, everything went still. He stood there, towering over you, his presence suffocating, making it feel like the world had closed in. His red eyes locked onto yours, glowing.

He didn’t move, just watched you, his expression unreadable. A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest, the sound vibrating through the ground beneath you. Your heart pounded, your breath shallow and ragged, but you couldn’t look away. His eyes were mesmerizing, wild and filled with hunger.

For a moment, it was as if time stood still, the forest around you fading away into nothing. There was no escape. No hope.

A slow, almost sinister smile spread across his face as he leaned down, his claws brushing against your cheek in a slow, deliberate motion. His breath was hot and heavy, and you could feel the weight of his gaze as if he were searching for something in you—something he wanted to claim. You shuddered under his touch, your body unable to move, paralyzed by fear.

"You're mine now," he murmured, his voice a guttural growl that sent shivers down your spine. His fangs gleamed in the low light, sharp and ready.

You couldn’t fight him. You were too weak, too broken, and all you could do was stare up at him, eyes wide with terror. The Beast crouched lower, his form blocking out the sky above you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on your soul.

Then, without warning, he licked your cheek, his rough, warm tongue brushing against your skin like a dog's. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively recoiled, but there was nowhere to go. His hot breath fanned across your face as he sniffed at you, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent, his gaze lingering on your every move.

You felt an uncomfortable twinge of vulnerability, but you couldn’t move fast enough to get away. His eyes darted downward, now focused on your leg, the one still bleeding from the snare trap. You hadn’t even noticed until now how much blood had soaked through your pants.

Before you could react, he suddenly ripped open the fabric of your pants, exposing the wound. The rough sound of tearing fabric filled the air as his claws made quick work of the material, revealing the injury beneath.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him, confusion and fear flooding your mind. What was he doing?

You gasped when the Beast's rough tongue suddenly brushed against the open wound on your thigh, the sensation shocking you. It felt strange—like something was pulling at you from within, and you instinctively flinched.

"Stop..." you gasped, though the words came out weak, as you tried to crawl away, desperate to get some distance between you and him.

But before you could get far, his sharp claws sank into the soft flesh of your thigh, gripping and pulling you back to him. The pressure was intense, and you couldn’t move. He held you there, unyielding, as his tongue continued to lick at your wound, collecting the blood.

You whimpered, trying to push against his hold, but his grip was like iron, and no matter how hard you struggled, you couldn’t escape.

As the Beast continued, the warmth of his tongue against your skin became oddly less weird. The fear remained, but you couldn’t deny the strange sensation of being so completely under his control. His actions were relentless, but they were also slow, as though savoring something delicate.

Then, suddenly, he pulled back. You heard soft whines escape from him, and it sent a cold chill down your spine. You met his eyes again, and you could see the remnants of your blood, mixed with his saliva, dripping from the corners of his mouth. The sight made your stomach twist.

He slowly licked the blood from around his lips, his gaze never leaving you. His breathing was deep, his chest rising and falling with each inhale. He crawled closer again, his eyes intense, and for a moment, all you could hear was his heavy breathing.

Then, with a low growl, he spoke. “You smell so... good,” he murmured, his voice deep and gravelly. “You taste so sweet...”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. He seemed to be savoring them as much as he had savored the blood from your wound. His voice dropped even lower, his words tinged with something darker.

“You’ve had me going crazy ever since I first caught a scent of you. I can’t get you out of my mind.” His eyes gleamed, hungry and wanting.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against your mouth. “I crave you,” he repeated, his tone possessive, as though the very thought of you was driving him wild.

Fear mingled with something else in the pit of your stomach. You weren’t sure what it was, but his words were like a trap, a pull that made it hard to think clearly, harder to remember why you needed to escape.

His breath was hot against your skin, his presence overwhelming, and before you could react, the Beast leaned in, his face inches from yours. Your heart raced in your chest, fear and confusion coursing through you. Then, without warning, his lips pressed against yours.

The kiss was rough, urgent, as if he were trying to claim you. You froze, unable to process what was happening. His mouth was warm, and for a moment, everything seemed to disappear around you, your thoughts clouded by the shock of the moment.

You felt his hands, still strong and unyielding, keeping you in place as his lips moved against yours. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, and the unexpectedness of it left you breathless, your mind unable to fully comprehend his actions.

For a long second, time seemed to slow. He pulled away just enough to gaze at you, his red eyes intense, searching for something in your expression. The kiss had left you disoriented, unsure of how to feel, and you could see the hunger in his eyes.

Before you could gather your thoughts, he whispered low, “My little bunny.”

His grip tightened for a moment, and you could feel the intensity of his words as they settled in your chest. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice low, but there was an unsettling tenderness to it. "But I have to kill you now."

Before you could react, he flipped you over with ease, pinning you beneath him. His paw pressed down on your back, the weight of it overwhelming as his gaze locked onto you.

You squirmed beneath him, trying to push against his hold, but it was useless. His strength was far beyond yours, and every attempt to free yourself only seemed to make his grip tighten.

"Please," you gasped, voice trembling as you struggled.

But he didn’t stop. His eyes were locked on yours with an intensity that sent a chill through you, and his body felt like a heavy weight, pressing you into the cold ground.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" you asked, your voice desperate. It was all you could think of to try to connect with him, to find some way to understand him.

He stopped for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he considered your words. There was a flicker of something—something almost human—in his gaze before he growled, a low rumble vibrating through his chest.

"Jay," he said simply, the sound of it rough but clear.

You repeated it softly to yourself, tasting the name on your lips. "Jay."

He paused again, almost as if surprised- "You're the first one to know it." A flicker of something—maybe amusement, flashed in his eyes.

But then, without warning, he threw his head back, releasing a haunting howl that echoed through the night. The sound seemed to reverberate through the very air, a chilling symphony of raw power and unbridled emotion.

As the echo faded, Jay lowered himself, his jaws parting slightly as he moved closer to you. There was no mercy in his eyes, no hesitation. With a swift motion, he sank his teeth into your neck. The pain was sharp and intense, but before you could even process it fully, darkness claimed you, and everything around you vanished.

You gasped as you fell back into the survivor camp, unharmed, alive, as if nothing had happened at all.

The others were going about their business, completely unaware of the nightmare you had just experienced. The tension in your body remained, though, a tight knot in your chest that wouldn't loosen.

You knew you couldn't tell anyone what had happened. No one would understand. They would think you had lost your mind.

Shaking the lingering thoughts from your head, you stood up, your legs a bit unsteady. The sharp, eerie silence that had enveloped the camp was suddenly pierced by the unmistakable howl from the direction of the killers' area. It echoed through the foggy air, loud and clear, that it made the other survivors nearby glance up in alarm.

The howl was different from the usual ones. It was the triumphant cry of a successful hunt—an announcement to the realm that the beast had claimed his prize.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

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[dcafanzine]

Hello everyone! We’ve compiled this handy-dandy FAQ to hopefully answer any basic questions regarding this zine that you all may have.

(As this FAQ has gotten pretty extensive, all of the questions and answers are now listed under the cut!)

FAQ

What’s a fanzine?

A fanzine is a collection of fan works (typically art and/or writing) by fans for fans that focuses on a specific fandom, ship, or character! Most of the time contributors and the team behind a zine are not paid, and the cost of the zine covers production and shipping costs. Any surplus may be donated to charity, or, in the case of a for-profit zine, the contributors and team will be financially compensated.

What’s this zine about?

This zine will be focusing on the daycare attendant (DCA) from Five Nights at Freddy’s in all of their canon variants: Sun, Moon, and Eclipse (including other forms such as the Ruined and arcade cabinet forms and Jack o Moon). We aim to celebrate all canon forms of these characters with a similar number of pieces dedicated to each of their main three forms (Sun, Moon, Eclipse) together or separately.

Will this zine be SFW?

All content produced for this zine will be SFW. NSFW and 18+ pieces will not be included in this zine.

Will ships/pairings be included?

Following feedback from the zine interest check, we’ve decided to focus more strongly on the DCA as characters in general for this zine rather than on romantic pairings. Romantic ships won’t be the primary focus of any pieces for this zine. Platonic interactions and fluff are A-okay.

(Ship lovers please see the question below for an added note on ships!)

Will AUs be included?

Following the zine’s interest check results, for this zine, most pieces will be focusing on more canon-adjacent leaning depictions of the DCA where the designs and/or circumstances are not too far removed from those depicted in canon (for example, where the daycare attendant/s are still working or had previously worked at the pizzaplex, with room for AUs like role swaps where Sun has the more prominent effects from the virus, the DCA working in the theatre or as Glamrocks or on the carousel or something else, the characters being in separate bodies or the same body, etc etc), with some wiggle room for more differentiated AU content and designs to be included in a few pieces so long as it is submitted by either the creator of the AU or with the AU creator’s express permission and depending on the pitch(es) provided by the applicant(s).

(A note on the last two questions: There will be a potential for a bonus PDF or two to be produced focusing more closely on AUs (submitted by the creator of the AU or with the creator’s permission) and/or SFW shipping content depending on contributor interest and availability. This will be separate from the main zine. Interest in this or lack thereof will in no way affect your application and no one will be obliged to participate.)

Will other canon characters / self inserts/ y/n characters / OCs be included?

Other canon characters are completely okay to include so long as the piece still strongly focuses on the DCA! Self inserts, y/ns and OCs may be included so long as:

They have a defined physical design (if drawn) and are either the contributor’s own creation or submitted with the express permission of their creator.

The primary focus of the piece is still the DCA.

What are the general requirements for joining this zine as a contributor?

All zine contributors must be aged 16 or over.

Most zine communications will happen over Discord. Zine contributors should have a Discord account and be willing to use Discord for communications when working on the zine.

Zine contributor applications should include at least one piece (preferably more) depicting the DCA (canon-adjacent or in an AU form where they still have a similar general physical appearance and/or play a similar role is preferred) for a good chance of a successful application. Contributors will also be asked to pitch an idea or two on what they potentially want to do for their piece in the zine which may help secure them a spot in the zine and aid in brainstorming for their piece even if they don’t ultimately use the suggestions they gave for their pitch.

Will this zine be for profit or for charity?

Surplus profits from this fanzine will be donated to charity (when a specific charity has been chosen by the mod team, we will announce this and update the FAQ - suggestions are most welcome!).

Who will be contributing to this zine?

At the heart of this zine from behind the scenes is a team of 8 mods working together to bring you tons of fun DCA content who will be announced in due time!

While exact contributor numbers have not yet been finalised, the zine’s contributor lineup will include something resembling the following:

23 page artists who will draw full-page coloured illustrations with backgrounds as standalone pieces for the zine

5 writers who will each write a short piece for the zine (around 1.5-2k words) which will be illustrated by an accompanying spot artist

5 spot artists who will illustrate scenes to accompany pieces written by the writers working on the zine

2-3 merch artists who will design merch to be produced dependent on the zine hitting certain financial targets

Will mods be allowed to contribute to the zine?

Yes, mods will be allowed to contribute to the zine, if they find that they have the time, but this will not affect the number of other contributors that we take on. Mods will be held to the same standards as every other contributor and must complete the check ins regardless of their mod status. Mods will only be allowed to contribute one piece of work, or may instead opt to be a pinch hitter in the case of a contributor dropping out!

Will this zine be physical or digital?

Dependent on sales, we are hoping on making this a physical printed zine with the option to purchase a digital copy. There will be a selection of bundles available with a range of merchandise.

Are contributors allowed to collaborate?

Two or more contributors may work on a single piece for the zine so long as they work well together! Collaborations will be counted as a single submission.

Will contributors receive a free copy of the zine?

Contributors will receive a free digital copy of the zine and, dependent on sales, will receive a free physical copy of the zine as well. We are hoping to offer discounted or free merch for contributors as well, although this will depend on sales.

In the case of collaborations, whilst each of the collaborators collaborating on a piece will be guaranteed a free digital copy of the zine, each collaborator receiving a free physical copy of the zine will ultimately depend on sales.

When can I apply?

Contributor applications will open on the 25th of March and will close on the 22nd of April.

Can I apply for more than one role?

You can apply for as many roles as you like on the zine (though be sure your application caters specifically to the role you are applying for when you complete each of your applications!), however, you will still only be selected as a contributor for one role. A comment field will be made available in each application form so you can state your order of preference here if you like!

How long will I have to complete my piece if I’m selected?

Zine contributors will have around three months to complete their pieces upon being selected. If you have applied to and are selected to be a pinch hitter (taking a spot in case another contributor drops out) this may vary.

If your question hasn’t been answered here or you’re looking for more clarification, please head on over to our ask box or our CuriousCat!

[animasola86]

🎃 A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

misc!monsters x f!reader 🔥 words: 1.5k

You are invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, promising a night full of surprises. Are you ready for this adventure?

GENERAL WARNINGS/SPOILERS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Sex with strangers! Knife kink! Slimes and tentacles! Werewolves! Vampires! (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: Welcome to this CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! Please enjoy this "prologue" that will lead you into a night you won't forget! After setting the scene, you will have three choices as to what happens next! (You can also read these chapters in succession, whatever you like best!)

Staring up at the large house, you realize you have no idea where you are. You've lived here your whole life and yet you've never seen this particular house. You'd clearly remember it. It's too fancy not to notice. Old. Dark woods and black metal elements. Gothic almost. Definitely not your typical house, not around these parts.

You'd figured it might just be a themed hotel that had its grand opening only recently, hence why you've never heard of it before. The invitation came a few days ago, and quite frankly, at the best time possible. You didn't have plans for Halloween, and you were not in the mood to open your door to random kids that evening either, so being called away onto the countryside, to this fancy place even, and all of it for free? Hell yeah.

Your Uber driver had been a little confused by the address, but somehow still found the hidden place. And now you look upon the large entrance doors, and despite being alone, you are intrigued. This is an adventure, a step away from your boring day-to-day life. Sure it was all a little ominous, with this mysterious invitation and all, but you figured you've been randomly selected maybe, perhaps won something for the first time in your life? You should probably be more suspicious, but then again, why not?

You are young, this is Halloween, why not live a little, right?

Fumbling the sturdy envelope out of your purse and the thick paper out of its sheath, you take another glance at the printed words:

Welcome to a night you'll never forget! Come and enjoy an evening full of surprises! You are invited to party, drink and eat like you've never had before! Your adventure awaits! Stay till the morning breaks, if you can. Come in costume. Stay for free. Happy Halloween!

You chose to dress like Little Red Riding Hood, mainly because you had the short skirt, the blouse and the red cape from your last costume party, and you couldn't be bothered to buy a new one. Putting your hair into braided pigtails added to the innocence you tried to portray, and who knows, maybe you'll find a nice guy in a wolf costume to match your freak? You don't expect much, but that's usually the best thing to do anyway. It can only get better then.

Yet when you enter the house, its windows lit up by bright colorful lights, the low bass of the music making the floorboards vibrate, you realize this might just be your typical Halloween party. From the lobby you can take a look into the adjacent rooms, fancy sitting rooms with fireplaces, already filled to the brim with people in costumes.

You see a group of masked serial killers, from Ghostface to Michael Myers, there's even Freddy Krueger and the guy in the hockey mask whose name you always forget. The sight of them would normally scare you, but these guys stand around a beer pong table, and whenever they throw the ball into a cup, they lift their masks and expose their rather normal looking faces to drink it, acting like the frat boys they probably are.

In another corner you see a bunch of girls, cheerleaders, you'd say, all dressed very skimpy, but you are indoors (and you are dressed a little similar also, so you shouldn't judge), but seeing a sexy ladybug next to a sexy office lady, laughing with a sexy cow girl (as in cow girl, literally, with black and white spots and very distinctive udders), it does look a little ridiculous. Well, at least they all found their crowd.

As you turn your head to look around more, walking up to the large staircase leading to the upper floors, you are suddenly startled by a waitress carrying a tray with little shot glasses filled with a green liquid. “Oh,” you make, as you take a step back to not walk into her.

She smiles at you, her eyes sparkling under the light of the large chandelier above you, holding out the tray. “Welcome to the mansion!” she tells you. “Please, have a complimentary drink!”

You look at the shots and hesitate. Looks like jello shots. Vodka and gelatin never sounded appealing to you, but you told yourself to enjoy the night, let loose for once, so you grab one small glass and give the waitress a nod. She quickly hurries off again, focusing on another group of people filtering into the house. Looking around, you try not to dwell too much on the drink you slowly put to your lips. There's a strangely earthy smell to it. Ugh, probably some herbal liqueur to add to the green coloring of it.

Inhaling deeply, you tilt your head back and gulp down the shot in one go, feeling it slide down your throat, as slimy and unpleasant as you would have expected. But it does give you a little buzz, and that's a start, isn't it? Clearing your throat, you look around for the waitress or a place to discard your empty shot glass, and suddenly she's back, picking the glass out of your hand, gently nudging you further into the house.

As you enter one of the sitting rooms, you find yourself among more groups of people, laughing and chatting and having fun, their costumes ranging from vastly unimaginative (one guy just wears a white T-shirt that says This is my costume) to extremely elaborate and fancy. Leave it to the Goths to really celebrate this day. You admire their beautiful gowns and make-up a little longer as you feel your stomach churning slightly. You should have eaten more before you came here, you realize, but luckily you then come across a large banquet table filled with food and drinks.

There's a big bowl of chips, but there are also a couple of three-tiered platters filled with little canapés, and you decide to try the more fancy stuff first. As you put various things on your napkin (things you've never seen before and couldn't possibly name), you look around the nicely decorated rooms. They do look old and out of a different time period, even the furniture looks as vintage as it can get. There's a lot of dark woods and wallpapers with intricate designs, also countless ancient looking paintings of landscapes and people in period clothing, and to make it look really halloweeny the whole space is plastered in fake-looking cobwebs, with plastic spiders and bats hanging from the ceiling and walls.

The lighting is different in each room, from bright green to dark red, flowery pink and icy blue. You admire the work that went into decorating the place like this. You've certainly never been to a party like this before. It looks perfect. The food is good, the music isn't too loud or obnoxious and fits the vibe pretty good (you recognize a few horror film soundtracks), it seems like a good Halloween party. You don't regret coming here at all, though the social aspect still feels a little daunting. All these people stand in groups, laughing together, and you seem to be the only one who came alone.

You don't normally mind it that much, being alone, most of your friends had other plans or were too busy to indulge in some childish little party. It sucks to be in that age group where half of your acquaintances try to be the adults they supposedly are now, while the other half can't let go of their youth, but even those thought this party seemed lame, and as you are right in the middle, unsure where you fit, you decided to just go alone, hoping you'd meet someone here.

Maybe a bit more alcohol will help you get closer to the other guests. Shoving something baked into your mouth, you turn to the drinks. A bowl of fruit punch calls your name, but then you see the beer cans and grab one of those instead. You already drank that ominous jello shot, you shouldn't risk whatever was swimming inside that punch bowl. Cracking open the can, you take a swig, feeling the refreshing beverage rush down your esophagus, but as soon as it fills your stomach, another churn goes through you. Then a cramp.

Oh dear. Leave it to your sensitive guts to ruin a good night out. Putting down the drink and food, you press a hand to your belly and turn back, looking around for the bathroom you clearly need now. You push past people dancing to the music or standing in clusters, laughing and chatting, you even pass the occasional love or horn dog unable to hide their desires as they make out right there in the middle of the room, until you find a long hallway. You'd expect a long line in front of the bathroom as is usually the case at these parties, but you are the only one in the hallway.

It's lined with intricate wooden doors, left and right, and one at the end. No sign or anything to indicate what's behind them. Feeling another cramp, you let out a groan and stare from door to door.

Where to go?

You now have these choices:

Do you...

...reach for the door closest to you?

...go through the door a few feet on your right?

...walk all the way to the last door that seems to lead outside?

ALL PARTS: 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7

End notes: By the way, justice for our boy Jason Voorhees, of course I remember his name, poor reader just isn't focused on serial killers that much. Or is she? :3

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[emeritusemeritus]

hello! absolutely love your writing and so happy to find someone who likes the weasley twins too! :D if it’s not too much trouble, i’d like to request a little drabble with fred where the reader adopts a ginger cat and fred finds it funny? thank you! <3

Hi Anon! Thank you so much, we are all definitely Weasley Twin lovers over here! It’s my pleasure, this was really fun to write 😂 hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: minor sexual references, brief talk of curses, fluff and humour, a million ginger jokes, mentions of future kids.

Word count: 1.1k

Ginger Root

"Hey baby," Fred shouts out as he steps through the door to the flat above the shop on his lunch break, instantly loosening his tie and popping open the top shirt button that was slowly choking him.

He briefly waits for you to reply but hears nothing, so he goes looking for you. He's hoping that you'd made him something to eat for his dinner, though of course he didn't expect it if you. The shop had been ridiculously busy this last week and the thought of having to stand and make something to eat in his break hour seemed too far of a stretch for him. He's also hoping for a cuddle, needing to feel you back in his arms for a little while whilst he can, and even more hopefully he wonders if he can convince you to cuddle naked, horizontally on the bed.

He freezes upon walking into the living room, seeing a single ginger cat sat proudly on his sofa. It's comical almost how he freezes at seeing the seemingly harmless cat, looking around the empty flat as if there's an audience waiting for his reaction that he was being pranked.

He walks slowly over to the cat, approaching it with as much caution as he would a hippogriff, squatting down beside the content kitty that barely flicks it's eyes over to the intruder, sitting pride of place in Fred's usual spot.

"Okay," Fred says seriously to the cat, their faces only inches apart as he gives the kitty a questioning look, attempting to level with the feline. "You've either been cursed or you've never told me you were an animagus in the, what, 10 years we've been together?" He waits a moment for any feedback from the cat but hears nothing.

"Give me a little meow if you've been cursed and I'll fix it right away."

"Meow."

You laugh as Fred jumps at your sudden noise, falling back onto his haunches after losing his balance in surprise, arms scrambling to stop himself and failing miserable, which only adds to the hilarity of the situation.

"Godric woman," he grumbles, mock-clutching his heart as he gets up using the coffee table as leverage. He looks towards you and you smile widely seeing his heated cheeks, the look in his eyes devilish as he seeks revenge, especially as he eyes what you're wearing.

You're leaning on the doorframe, wrapped in a fluffy white towel fresh from the shower and enjoying every second of seeing Fred recover from your unplanned prank. His eyes are focused on your towel, the little tuck hidden within the slope of your breasts and the smirk on his face looks almost dangerous as you try and figure out his next move.

"But your lunch!" You squeal as he lunges as you, lips first attacking your neck.

"It can wait," he mumbles, finding his roaring appetite for food suddenly replaced by something else.

"So you found him, or her?"

"Him... I think," you say, pulling a fresh Tshirt on as Fred buttons up his shirt, leaving the tie off for now.

"He was shivering in a box next to the leaky cauldron... I couldn't leave him there Freddie." You hoped Fred wouldn't be mad, that he'd understand your desperate need to rescue the poor little kitty.

"I know sweetheart," he says with a small smile, eyes gentle with understanding.

You walk ahead of Fred as you both made your way back to the living room, pausing briefly to scratch the little sleepy cat on the sofa before you stepped into the kitchen to pull yours and Fred's pre-made lunch out of the fridge. He kisses you as a way of thanks as you both take a seat on the unoccupied sofa and eat the lunch you'd prepared earlier.

"Have you named him yet?" Fred says, taking a massive bite out of his sandwich, hardly able to talk with his mouth full of food. You pull a face of disgust for a moment at his lack of eating etiquette but drop it once you look upon the cute cat app curled up on the other sofa.

"Not yet, still thinking of options," you say, mentally running through the admittedly short list of monikers you'd come up with on the way home.

"Well with that hair he's definitely a Weasley," Fred beams, "very on brand."

"Think your mum will knit him a jumper for Christmas? Or a little scarf?" You joke, earning a snort of laughter from your boyfriend as his delighted face takes another large bite, thankfully not speaking through this one.

"What shall we name you little Weasley?" You say, looking upon your new friend.

"Well it can't be George, s'got two ears," Fred mumbles through a devilish smirk.

"Fred!" You say, scandalised by his words, though you can hardly contain your chuckle that follows only moments later.

"What about Minerva?" You can, casting your eyes towards Fred to watch his reaction, seeing him nearly choke on the last bite of his sandwich at your suggestion.

"Marmalade? Keeping with the ginger theme."

"Garfield?"

"Eh?" Fred frowns, missing the joke entirely.

"It's a muggle thing.. oh! Thomas O'Malley!"

Again Fred gives you a bewildered stare that makes a giggle slip out of you.

"Muggle film, the ginger cat. We could name him after him!  Abraham Delacey Giuseppi Casey Thomas o malley... Weasley."

"Or we could not," Fred says blankly.

"Ron?" You ask, trying to glance at the cat's face to see what else would spring to mind.

"No, it's too clean," Fred jokes, nodding his head towards the cat.

"Squash? Cheddar? Pumpkin?"

"Stop naming food!" Fred calls out with a laugh before he pauses, clearly thinking. "Wait I like pumpkin! Pumpkin Weasley?"

"Our first child," you joke, throwing your legs over his as you lean back on the sofa. You knew he'd have to be going back to work soon so you'd take what you could get.

"Great we can name our children after root vegetables," Fred says with a mock roll of his eyes, big hands coming up to stroke your legs as he pulls them deeper into his lap.

"Ginger's a root vegetable, they'd fit right in," you beam, looking at your boyfriend's fiery locks, secretly hoping that whatever children you'd have would share this certain characteristic.

"Oh yeah! Meet the twins, parsnip and turnip," he jests, laughing as your eyes widen in horror at his words, knowing that it would be just your luck to get your own mini version of George and Fred.

"Who said anything about twins?!"

"Maybe we'll just stick with the cat then," he smirks, joining your gaze towards your new best friend, realising that it might not be a bad thing after all to expand your family.

"We'll start with Pumpkin."