Wish It Was A Dream

by THEGAMINGWEEB

Summary:

You're just an average college student...
Until you find out that the Entity is real and YOU are its newest plaything. Yay!

Notes:

Hello friends!!! This is my first fan fic and I'm very excited to present it to you all. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: What The … ?

It’s a Friday afternoon and you just got home after your last class of the day. You are tired, overworked, and honestly a little overstimulated. After a day full of lectures, notes, and white florescent lights, you are ready for your favorite part of the day. Making yourself dinner, sitting down on your couch in the middle of your studio apartment, and just chilling while you play Dead by Daylight. Sure, you should probably be working on that essay that Mr. Carson assigned for next week, but you can probably finish it the night before it’s due. Or the morning of. Either way, what’s more important right now is getting some food in your stomach and playing Dead by Daylight.

You turn on your TV and start up the game. Once it loads, you grab a bite of your food while you decide whether to play survivor or killer. You decide killer, as you haven’t played killer in a few days and there are some quests you need to complete. As you go to grab another bite of your dinner and choose which killer you want to play, your lights flicker.

“Eh,” you mumble to yourself, “Probably just the breaker on the fritz again.” You pay it no mind. It happens enough that it isn’t a concern to you. It’s only when your power goes out that you actually start to get irritated.

“Ugh. Come on, man. I was just about to get into a-” you groan in annoyance. Then you notice that your TV is still on. “Game. What the ….” Though your TV may still be on, it’s different than it was a second ago. For starters, the HUD is completely gone. The customization boxes have all disappeared and so have the account and currency displays. The other thing that’s strange is that the screen is zoomed in on a campfire, but not the one surrounded by the survivors, nor the empty campfire in the background of the killer queue. This campfire is surrounded by dark figures. They vary in shape and size, and even though they are close to the campfire, it only illuminates them enough to see their silhouettes.

You blink your eyes, trying to make sure you’re not imagining things, when the screen becomes the least of your concerns. Slowly wafting out from behind your TV is a thick, black fog. Almost like ash. Not only does it quickly envelope the floor, but it also floats through the air in the form of thin black tendrils. They move with a fluidity that almost makes them seem alive. Once you fully take in your surroundings and what is happening around you, you realize what’s going on.

“Oh shit! Oh shit!” you scream as you frantically vault over the back of your couch. “There’s no way this is happening! This can’t actually be happening!” As soon as your feet hit the ground, you run as fast as you can to your front door. Now, you’re no Meg Thomas, but you’d think that that you’d be able to reach and get through your door in less than five seconds. In the end, however, it doesn’t matter. By the time you are about a foot away from the door, the fog has enveloped the entire room, you included.

Immediately, you can feel yourself being pulled somewhere else. You can’t see anything, and when you try to scream no sound is produced. It is as though you are being dragged through a void. You feel weightless, and all of your senses are dulled. In this state, you lose even your sense of time. You don’t know how long you’ve been he, and you can only guess how long you’ll be here for. Something like this was never mentioned in the lore. It only goes as far as the individual being enveloped and then taken by the fog, not how they are moved to the Entity’s realm.

After what feels like hours, or maybe even days, you finally make contact with solid ground. You have no idea where you are, and - in all honesty - you can’t see a damn thing. It takes at least a minute before your eyes can full adjust, but when they do you can see that you are somewhere within a thickly wooded forest. It appears to be nighttime, as well, as what you can only assume to be moonlight sparsely breaks through the dense canopy.

As you more thoroughly examine your surroundings, you notice that there is a dim, orange light emanating from a thicket of bushes off to your left. You approach, cautiously, in hopes to find the survivors, wanting to confirm whether or not you are actually in the Entity’s realm. All the while, you are praying to whatever can hear you that this is all just a dream, and that you simply passed out on your couch from exhaustion. During your slow approach toward the light, you notice a glint of what appears to be metal near your foot, just where you were about to step next. Quickly, yet quietly, you pull your foot back towards you, as it appears that you were about to step into a bear trap.

“Shit,” you say in a barely audible whisper. “The Trapper can’t be too far from here.” Just to be careful, you take a few steps backwards, as to more safely step around the bear trap. In the last moment before you start to move forward, your back makes contact with something broad and firm. You know there aren’t any trees behind you, at least not this close, which only leaves you one guess as to what you are standing in front of. Fear shoots through you as a streak of lightning spreads through a lake. You know that any sudden movement will cause who or whatever is behind you to react. And most likely, it will react violently. So, in an effort to preserve your life, you very slowly turn and step back in order to distance yourself from the hulking mass, but also to witness it in its entirety.

There, as still as a statue and as imposing as a mountain, stands the Trapper. Evan doesn’t give you a second to panic, as he grabs you and throws you over his shoulder, just like he would if you were one of the survivors who had been downed in a trial. You kick and you wiggle as hard as you can - just as the survivors would - to release yourself from his grip, but to no avail. He starts to carry you towards the light, which causes you to flail harder and faster, until you eventually tire yourself out and cease all movement. At this point, you’ve given up. You know no matter what you do, you won’t be able to escape his grasp, and that wherever he is taking you will most likely lead to your demise.

As you lay on his shoulder, you once again pray to whatever you can that this is a just a dream. A cruel and terrible nightmare that your brain cooked up due to your sleep deprivation and gaming addiction. Finally, Evan throws you down onto the ground in front of the fire and you close your eyes, curling into a ball, waiting for the pain to start. After waiting for what feels like decades, but was really only ten seconds, you open your eyes and uncurl yourself from the fetal position. There, standing over you, in their terrifying and horrific glory, are the killers you used to play as and control in Dead by Daylight.

Chapter 2: Monsters Made Manifest

Summary:

Surrounded by a mass of murderous monsters, what will happen next?

Notes:

Hello friends!! Sorry that it took two weeks to finish and post this. I'm very happy to be presenting this next chapter to you. Please enjoy!!

Observing them from this perspective causes your body to lock and your brain to process a mile a minute. Your eyes flicker from killer to killer. You are encompassed by murders, monsters, and manifestations of terror. Man, creature, or otherworldly being; It does matter. They all could kill you in an instant. Some not even having to move.

 

You stare at them—almost into them—as if gazing into the abyss, a place devoid of life and feeling. And as the saying goes: They stare back at you. But not at you. No. You can feel their gaze; almost as if it were palpable.

 

They are looking through you.

 

You can’t tell what they’re thinking, but you feel as though you could make a solid guess. They are picking you apart with their eyes and minds, trying to determine how to tear you apart.

 

With this realization returns the ability to feel and move your body, though you have no intention of leaving the spot that you were planted. You know that if you move—even slightly—you could very easily trigger your violent imposers, and you’d rather keep all of your blood in your body.

 

The silence and stillness of these horrific beings causes your fear and terror to increase tenfold for every second it continues to persist. A blazing heat spreads swiftly through your veins as an icy chill shoots up and down your spine. In every way, you are finished, and they’ve barely even laid a finger on you.

 

You all stand there. Unmoving. Unblinking. After what could have very well been hours, one of them finally moves. At first you don’t notice him, almost no one does, then slowly but surely the dark shadow cloaked in shroud is noticed by all present. He gently creeps toward you, in a way one would approach a frightened animal. He’s crouched low to the ground, in order to appear less threatening—or to be less visible. His hands are open and clear to see, as to demonstrate that he does not possess a weapon.

 

Finally, he reaches a distance close enough for you to easily hear him, but far enough so that you can’t reach him. “Hello, seemingly normal person who is new to the realm,” Ghostface, or Danny Johnson, says in a very unserious tone. “What’s your name?”

 

Immediately, this interaction befuddles you. Not only is he speaking way too casually, but he also has the same sultry voice as portrayed in the movies. The combination of these elements shocks your senses and short-circuits your brain, yet again.

 

Ghostface is waiting for a response while all you can really do is repeatedly open and close your mouth while you attempt understand what the fuck is going on. During your befuddlement, Ghostface realizes that it might take a while for you to answer him, so he decides to answer for you.

 

“Not much of a talker?” Ghostface half asks, half states. “Don’t worry about it. For now, I’ll call you … ugh-” Ghostface examines you more closely as he tries to think of a nickname that aptly fits you. “Ah! That’s it! I’ll call you ‘puppy’, since you were wandering around like a stray dog and you look like you have no idea what’s going on.”

 

Once you hear the word “puppy” come out of the mouth—or mask?—of Ghostface, your sense return in a flash of shock that spreads through your body. Did Ghostface, the actual living and breathing Ghostface, just call you “puppy”? Yes. Do you know how to respond to and or feel about that? Absolutely not. The one thing you do know, however, is that you need to actually start responding to what Ghostface—or any of the other killers—is saying.

 

“I … uhh. I’m sorry. What the fuck?” You eventually say, in a desperate tone, through your confusion. “This- this can’t be real. Pl-please tell me this is a dream.” You scoot back towards the fire in hopes to put more distance between yourself and the killers that surround you.

 

“Unfortunately for you puppy, this is not a dream,” Ghostface answers with a very sarcastic and only slightly sympathetic tone. Then, he starts to very bluntly explain where you are. “You are in a place called the Entity’s Realm. It’s ruled by an eldritch god named—you guessed it—The Entity. The reason you’re here is because-”

 

“Yes, I know,” you cut him off. “The Entity kidnaps people from across the multiverse in order to feed off their emotions via forcing them to suffer through ‘trials’ where killers attempt to kill or sacrifice the survivors and the survivors try their best to avoid the killer, power the generators, and escape with their lives. Only for it to happen over and over again, whether they die or not, because there is no way to escape the Entity’s Realm. Even death is not an escape. But that’s not what I was talking about.”

 

At this point, you have fully sat up from laying on the ground and are sitting face to face with Ghostface. You don’t know when he decided to get closer, but you don’t have it in you to care. You’re way too out of it and it doesn’t seem like he has any weapons on him. In fact, looking around, you notice that none of the killers have weapons on them, which is only slightly more comforting.

 

“All of that was… incredibly accurate,” Ghostface says with suspicion in his tone. “How do you know that?”

 

For a second, you think about whether or not you should tell the killers that you are currently in a place that—in your universe—is the setting of a very popular video game known as ‘Dead by Daylight’. Then you realize that either way, you’re fucked, so you might as well just tell them.

 

“It’s what I was trying to say earlier,” you finally respond to Ghostface. “Where I come from, the entirety this place—including all of you—is part of a video game known as Dead by Daylight. I’ve played and watched the game for years, so I know a lot about the lore.”

 

Now, with this explanation, you were expecting to receive a multitude of questions. Instead, all that you are met with is silence. A very tense and heavy silence. You could feel it. Almost as if the questions left in the air truly weigh it down. After sitting in the new atmosphere that surrounded the situation for a few moments, you realize that behind his mask, Ghostface most likely has a look of shock and confusion. Based on the silence, you can guess that all of the other killers do as well.

 

Eventually the shock begins to fade, the static in the air fizzles out, and the stillness of the killers regains its eerie presence. Once they recollect themselves, the killers' stares once again pin you to where you sit. Awoken from his stunned stupor, Ghostface reaches out to grab your shoulders, at which you barely resist flinching.

 

“Are you telling me-” a grunt can be heard from multiple places around you. “Us. That all of this,” he motions to the general area, “is just a video game? One that you could play in an arcade for a quarter?” His grip on your shoulders has tightened considerably by the end of his questioning.

 

“More like one that you could play at home, but no,” you respond in a slightly questioning tone. You pause in order to collect your thoughts, trying to figure out a way to explain the situation as to not cause more confusion. “I’m pretty sure all of this is real. I think what’s happening is that where I come from, we know of the existence of the Entity’s Realm, but only as a video game. Basically, all of this is real, but in my universe it’s a work of fiction.”

 

“If this place is known as a work of fiction in your universe, then how do you know that all of your information is real?” Ghostface asks in a questioning, but not accusatory tone.

 

“I don’t,” you say very bluntly. Ghostface goes to say something in response to your answer, but you cut him off before he gets that chance to speak. “But if you let me try something, I might be able to prove that my knowledge is at least somewhat credible.”

 

In a very sarcastic—and almost sing-songy—voice, Ghostface says, “Then please, go right ahead.” Followed him drumming his fingers on your shoulders.

 

Well, if he’s going to make this a spectacle then you might as well. You grab one of his hands and then one of his shoulders, akin to how someone would hold their partner for a formal dance. You gently pull him closer as you lean in yourself, and he—hesitantly—lets you. Eventually, your proximity causes the both of you to appear to be tangoing on the floor. Once in this position, you take the opportunity to whisper in his ear.

 

Now due to your knowledge of the lore, you know that Ghostface, or Jed Olsen, or finally Danny Johnson is an arrogant man. He takes pride in his deception and secrets. Because of this, you conclude that if you reveal your knowledge of his most prized and protected secret, you will get the biggest reaction. Therefore, when you go to whisper in his ear, you whisper exactly that. His identity.

 

“Ghostface. Jed Olsen. Danny Johnson,” you whisper so softly that Danny himself barely hears you. With every name mention, your hold on his hand and shoulder tighten just enough to ground him in the moment, to make him truly understand the message that you are trying to give him. You’re also trying to make sure that he doesn’t try to jump away from you.

 

Once you start to mention his other names, Ghostface grows tenser with each passing second. Slowly, he leans away from you, until you’re both face to face. You still can’t discern his expression due his mask, but you can guess it’s a mix skepticism, anger, and astonishment. Once he calms down, Danny starts to question you—yet again—as he attempts to separate himself from you.

 

“How the hell did you-” Danny starts to question, but you cut him off.

 

“I told you. I know a lot about this place because of the lore in the game,” you say in a bit of a matter-of-fact tone.

 

“Yes, but you said you know about the Entity and its realm, not about us,” Danny responds, in a slightly more accusatory tone.

 

“Well, I did say that I have knowledge about the video game that is made up of ‘the entirety of this place—including all of you.’ By that I meant that not only do I know about the realm, but also all of you. Though, some more than others,” you concede.

 

“So you not only know who we are, but also what we’ve done?” Danny questions obstinately.

 

“Yes. That is what I said,” you reply with a hint of sarcasm.

 

“Okay, puppy, the sarcasm is unnecessary. I am finding out-” grunts can be heard from all around you yet again, “WE are finding out that there is a universe where this place is a video game, and a ton of people know who we are and what we’ve done. We are going through something right now.”

 

None of this is said seriously. Danny is speaking in a very ostentatious way, almost akin to the way Deadpool acts in all of his movies. And he is doing all of it just to get a rise out of you. It’s obvious. And yet, it works.

 

“Oh, yes, I am so sorry that there is a universe where some people know that you’re Ghostface because to them you’re a FICTIONAL CHARACTER. It’s so unfortunate that you were pulled into this living hellscape where you get to stalk and kill people constantly, and are treated like mommy’s favorite little good boy,” you say in an aggravated and—eventually—babying tone. “Unlike your murder-boner ass, some of us were dragged here against our will because the Entity likes using its spider-tentacle-things to butt fuck the EMOTIONS OUT OF YOU! THEN ONCE IT’S DONE, IT THROWS YOU INTO THE VOID BECAUSE AT THAT POINT, YOU’RE JUST A BROKEN COCK SLEEVE!” As you finish, you are practically screaming and out of breath.

 

You don’t know why you just said all those things. You haven’t even been through a trial yet and you are already losing your shit. Honestly, you are just too tired to deal with this shit. You really wish you could go back to your somewhat decent studio apartment and sleep for a week.

 

For an entire minute following your minor mental breakdown, everything is silent. And in this case, you mean everything. Not even the bonfire next to you makes its usual crackling sound. The silence is almost literally deafening. Then, after your words fully settle in, all of the killers that could understand what you were screaming start laughing. They sound insane—some more than usual—with how hysterical they are.

 

Then something changes. Their laughter stops. The air grows cold and still. A strange wind blows strongly through the trees. Then, all attention turns towards the bonfire. The mix of smoke and fog that brought you here emerges from the fire, which now consists of flames of bold darkness. The iridescent smog spreads out from the bonfire, despite the intense wind blowing in the opposite direction. As the smog slithers outwards over the ground, the killers lurch back in surprise or fear.

 

Due to having a quicker reaction time, all of the killers are able to escape the grasp of the smog. You, on the other hand, are not so lucky. As the smog wraps around your grounded limbs, you feel as though you are being submerged in an extremely viscous glue. Due to its unnatural thickness, you are unable to wade through the shallow pool of polluted air. It is at this point you realized that you have fallen into the spider’s trap, and now you are a fly caught in its web.

 

As you contemplate your certain demise, one of the Entity’s aforementioned tentacles shoots out from the center of the abyssal bonfire and pierces through the collar of your shirt. After ensuring its hold on you is secure, it effortlessly drags you towards the bonfire. All you are able to do is scream as you glide across the ground, unable to move your limbs, and realizing far too slowly that it is going to pull you into the fire.

 

As your body makes contact with the fire, it shrivels and disintegrates within seconds. To the killers, you rapidly degenerate and disappear into the fire. To you, you are trapped for hours, slowly burning and fading away. You feel every cell in your body languidly turn to ash. You pray that you will die at some point, but you don’t. Not event when there is no body left for you to reside.

 

Once your body is destroyed, you believe that the pain will be over. But yet again, you are wrong. The new pain that persists is infinitely worse than burning away. Organelle by organelle, cell by cell, tissue by tissue; your body puts itself back together again. You can feel everything, and the pain is unending. Instead of the small itch you feel around a healing wound, your body feels like it is made of a forever crawling colony of ants. They are under your skin, in your eyes, and in your lungs. They encompass your entire body.

 

After days—maybe even weeks—of your body putting itself back together, your full form lingers in the void. In the anguish and the suffering.

 

.

 

..

 

…

 

….

 

…..

 

……

 

…….

 

Until, finally, you are granted your reprieve.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You open your eyes. It takes you a minute to realize where you are. You are laid down, on your couch, in front of your TV. Your dinner is still warm, sitting on the table in front of you. You’re in your studio apartment. It’s only a mile or two away from campus. You are in the real world. You are home.

 

But apparently, you never left to begin with.

 

“Could that really have been just a simple nightmare?”

Notes:

Thank you for reading the second chapter of my fic!!! It was a bit harder to write, but I had fun writing it, nonetheless. I wanted to make this chapter at least twice as long as the first one, as I myself enjoy reading longer chapters. I also did it because I wanted to give you guys more! I can't wait to keep writing this fic and I am so happy to have all of you here reading it!

Chapter 3: A Completely Normal Day

Summary:

A completely normal day! What could go wrong?

Notes:

Hi friends!! Sorry for posting the chapter a little late, but it's here. I had so much fun writing this chapter, so please enjoy!!

You sit there for a few minutes. You do absolutely nothing but stare at a wall. You don’t know what to think. You can’t discern what actually happened. Are you going crazy, are you just tired, or did you just actually get dragged into—and then thrown out of—an interdimensional hellhole akin to purgatory? This whole situation is too insane for you to figure out.

 

It isn’t too late—it only being a little later in the afternoon—but your brain is too fucked to function properly, and there is nothing else that you can do right now but go to bed. Your food is cold at this point and your appetite has severely diminished, so you can save for later. You stand up to get off of the couch, but then you immediate have to sit back down as you vision starts blacking out and you get dizzy.

 

“Fuck,” you sigh, “I need to get more iron in my diet.” Unfortunately for you, due to being a college student, you are only able to work part time. Add on top of that rent, and you don’t have too much left over for groceries. Once the blackout passes, you finally get off the couch and slug your way over to you bed. As soon as your head hits the pillow, you are out like a light, completely forgetting to change out of your clothes.

 

. . .      . . . .      . / . .      . . . / . - -      . -      -      - . - .      . . . .      . .      - .      - - .

 

You wake up to early morning sunrays coming through your window. Normally, when this happens, you would roll over and go back to bed. Instead, when you are awoken by the golden light of dawn, you feel extremely well rested. As if you had eaten the entirety of a grand feast, and then slept for an entire week. This confuses you. That is, until you recall what occurred the night prior, and how exhausted you were.

 

With your reacquired state of awareness, you decide that it will be best to assess the situation over a nice cup of your favorite morning beverage. You slowly get out of bed and move toward your closet, as you realize you never changed put of last nights clothes. Once you find a suitable change clothes for the day, you start getting out of your current outfit. It’s only when you go to take your shirt off that you feel a hole in the back of it. Right below the collar.

 

At first you wonder how this happened, as the shirt was completely fine yesterday. And then you remember yesterday, and you realize the Entity grabbed and dragged you out of the realm—by the collar of your shirt.

 

After a slight moment of pause, you rip the shirt off of your body and throw it onto the floor. You back away from the piece of clothing and stare at it in fear as you come to the understanding that everything that happened last night was real. An overwhelming terror overtakes you once again, and your heart picks up its pace within your chest.

 

You don’t know what to do, so you do the thing that most people probably would. Run. You leap over your bed and rush out of your room. Once in the main area of your apartment, you dash over to your front door. You grab the handle, going to turn it, and as you do you realize that you are barren of any clothing. Completely nude. Seeing as you were just in the middle of dressing it would make sense, but in your feral frenzy to distance yourself from the evidence of your now living nightmare, you forgot that you are only dressed in you birthday suit.

 

And with that realization comes the painful acceptance that you cannot leave your house. After a deeply agonized sigh, you decide that you will do what you had already planned to do earlier, after you got dressed. You head to the kitchen and make yourself something to get you through the morning.

 

Now, are you standing in the middle of your kitchen, making yourself breakfast, at—you check your clock—seven thirty in the morning while completely nude? Yes. Do you have the capacity to care? Absolutely-fucking-not. So that’s exactly what you do.

 

It takes a few minutes, but after a while you have yourself a pretty nice little breakfast. Due to your current predicament, you decide that it would be best to treat yourself a little bit. So, you make the decision to use up some of the bacon that you put in your freezer, some of the eggs in your fridge, and some of the bread in your pantry to make yourself a hearty breakfast.

 

As you eat your decently well made breakfast, you think over the reality of your new and very much terrifying situation. You now know that the Entity is real and that the multiverse exists. You mark all of that down subconsciously. The thought that is at the forefront of your mind is the question of whether or not you will be taken again. In all honesty, you really want to pray and beg to whatever can hear you that you won’t, but then you remember that the Entity is an eldritch god and would probably hear you. So, you don’t do that. Instead, you decide that you will live your life as if nothing ever happened. Nor will you tell a single soul of the things you know because if the government caught wind, they would vanish you off the street and run experiments.

 

Once all that is taken care of, you come to the conclusion that it would be best to start your day. With that, you clean up your dishes, get dressed—and save the shirt for later because you are definitely burning it—, and get yourself ready for “Human Interaction” because you definitely don’t want to be stuck your apartment right now.

 

Now that you look presentable, you grab your laptop and notes, leave your apartment, and head to your local library.

 

. . .      . . . .      . / . .      . . . / . - -      . -      . .      -      . .      - .      - - .

 

Your walk to the library is actually quite pleasant, as you focus more on the walk itself rather than the inter dimensional eldritch god that now knows of your existence. On an even lighter note, the streets are very quiet as there aren’t many people walking around at this time day. Because of this, you get to fully take in the sights and sounds as you leisurely walk to the library.

 

Once you arrive at the library, you greet the employee at the front desk. With how often you come here to study, you have gotten very familiar with all of the employees. Occasionally, you chat with them about a recent book you read or about one of you favorite authors. Sometimes they even give you some great book recommendations.

 

The reason this comes to mind is that the employee that gives you the most—and best—book recommendations is currently manning the front desk. He has light, wavy brown hair, is about six feet tall, and is lean. His skin is a light tan color, except for part of his face. This is due to a birthmark that covers the top right of his face starting at the center left of his forehead, cutting over the center of his nose, and ending under his right cheekbone.

 

The most unique part of him, though, is his eyes. They are two different colors. Heterochromia. The eye enveloped by his birthmark is a warm hazel, to the point where it is almost orange. His left eye, on the other hand, is a deep blue. It’s honestly the deepest blue you’ve ever seen.

 

Truthfully, you could get lost in his eyes. You don’t know what it is. Whether it’s the soft look he has on his face every time his sees you, or the way you feel so safe just to be around him. You really don’t understand what it is, but you are strangely drawn to him.

 

“Good morning, Darling,” Deimos says, with his usual energy. “Trying to catch a worm?”

 

“What are you-oh,” you chuckle, “No, Honey, I’m just trying to up wisdom stat so I can pass my class.” You smirk at him as he gives you a cocky smile.

 

“Which one is it this time?” He asks, used to you coming to the library to study.

 

“Mr. Carson’s class,” you answer. “I have an essay due this week and I haven’t started on it yet.” You sigh as you start to head to your favorite spot in the library.

 

“Well, good luck with that Darling,” he says in a sultry, flirty tone, “But what are you actually here for?” As he says this, he leans on the counter of the front desk with his chin resting on his right hand and his left are resting on the counter.

 

You freeze mid-step. Your heart picks up its pace in your chest, yet again. How he read you so easily, you don’t know, but you try to play it off the best you can.

 

“What do you mean?” you force out. You turn to look at him with a questioning look. He’s looking at you with a knowing smirk on his face. Still, you try to maintain your confused facade.

 

Deimos stands to his full height and starts to move out from behind the desk. “C'mon, Darling, it’s obvious something is bothering you,” he states, as if it were a fact. “You only come in this early if you really want to get out of your house because you need somewhere else to relax or to work on something you really need to get done.”

 

Fuck. He’s got you pinned. Are you really that obvious? No, Scratch that, you definitely are. How have you never realized that you practically use coming to the library as a coping mechanism. Well, since he is already on to you, you might as well confess.

 

“Alright. Fine. You caught me Deimos,” you sigh.

 

“Yeah. I know I did,” he says smugly, “Now tell me what’s wrong. Your Pookie Bear just wants to help.” He then lets out a loud chortle.

 

You snort as soon as you hear him say ‘Pookie Bear.’ “Okay, first of all, that was cringe as fuck. Secondly, I’m a little scared right now,” you confess. You know that he won’t believe you if you told him the full truth. He’d probably say that you’ve been reading too many books and playing too many video games. So, you do the next best thing: Give an extremely vague description of what happened to the point that what every you say won’t make you seem crazy.

 

“Why are you scared?” Deimos asks with a more serious and gentle tone.

 

“It’s just . . . something happened last night. At first, when it was over, I thought it was only a dream, so I went to bed. But then, when I woke up this morning, I realized that it actually happened. And it really freaked me out,” you blurt out. By the time you’re finished, you are practically having a panic attack. The more you think about it now, the more you realize just how terrifying and unavoidable the situation truly is. You are now under the watch of a sadistic eldritch god that can take—and keep—you at any time it pleases. Your thoughts continue to spiral and spiral, until all you can think about is—

 

“Is it okay if I hug you?” Deimos asks softly. His question shocks you out of your thoughts. You look up at him, surprise evident on your face. You take in the expression on his face. He looks concerned and serious, like he’s ready to protect you from anything that would try to harm you. But there is also something else, something in his eyes. Something deeper. But it’s a mystery to you.

 

You nod, on the verge of tears, and he slowly approaches you. Once he’s within reach, he reaches wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to his chest. He holds you firmly, but gently, and you can’t help but feel a little safer in his arms. After a few seconds in his hold, you let a few tears fall down your face. You don’t fully break down, but you had a stressful night, and you feel as though you deserve a small emotional release.

 

You wrap your arms around him and hug him back. You are glad that no one else is here, otherwise you would be a bit embarrassed about slightly breaking down in public. You remind yourself that there is no shame in it, but it’s still embarrassing nonetheless.

 

As you cry, Deimos gently cradles and caresses the back of your neck and head with his hand, as a way to sooth you. It takes a few minutes, but eventually your emotions have run their course and you are feeling much better. You motion to release yourself from the hug, and Deimos releases you. Then, he steps back to give you some space.

 

“Don’t feel like you owe me an explanation, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m always here,” Deimos says to you with a somber smile.

 

“Thank you,” you barely whisper. You are glad that you decided to come to library today.

 

After you and Deimos are done speaking, you both head to your respective areas in the library. You spend the whole day there, solely focusing on getting your work done as a way to distract yourself from everything else, even forgetting to eat. Every hour or so, Deimos comes to check on you and see how you are doing. You always tell him you’re fine, even if he knows that you’re lying. And of course Deimos notices that you haven’t eaten in hours—since you haven’t left your spot in hours—so he brings you some snacks and a drink from the employee lounge.

 

By the time the library is closing, you are tired and dreading walk back home by yourself, in the dark. Thankfully, right before you leave, Deimos offer to walk home with you.

 

“If you want, I can walk you home, since you don’t seem like you want to be alone right now,” he says, while locking the library behind him.

 

“Are you sure?” you ask. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “You’re my friend, and that is what friends are for, right?”

 

“. . . Right,” you answer, hesitantly.

 

“Then,” Deimos announces stoically, “Shall we be off my Darling.” As he says this, Deimos offers you his arm so that you can hold onto his inner elbow.

 

“Why thank you, my beloved,” you say while grabbing onto his arm. “That we shall.”

 

. . .      . . . .      . / . .      . . . / - . - .      . - . .      - - -      . . .      .

 

Once you arrive at your house, you invite Deimos to for stay the night, as it’s already late and you don’t want to make him walk all the way back to his apartment.

 

“You sure?” he asks.

 

“Please?” you ask.

 

“Sure,” he responds with a fond smile on his face.

 

You are both silent as you enter your apartment. Normally, you would be more courteous and offer Deimos a drink or a snack, but you are too tired to cared and it is evident that he the he doesn’t mind. Instead, you drag him into your bedroom and pull him onto your bed. Neither of you say anything, and you quickly snuggle into him. He wraps his arms around you, and right before you fall asleep, you hear him utter a quiet, “Rest well, Darling.”

 

. . .      . . . .      . / . .      . . . / - . - .      . -      . - . .      . - . .      . .      - .      - - .

 

When you wake up, you are bathed in a comfortable warmth. You go to sit up and stretch, but as you do you realize that you are already sitting up. This understandably confuses you, and so you open your eyes. When you do, you find out that you are actually sitting in a chair. A very ornate chair at that.

 

The seat and its back rest are covered in red velvet and black accents, while the armrests and base of the chair are decorated in a silky, blood red fabric and black embroidery. But as you look closer you come to notice something both mesmerizing, and shockingly terrifying.

 

As you lean toward the fabric, you can see that the embroidery is moving, but not in a specific pattern. No, it is of something much more disturbing. From a distance, one may think—mostly—nothing of it. However, from your position it is clear to see that the embroidery is not shapes and pasterns, but corpses and creatures. Every image is different, but they all share one of two things. A mutilated corpse, or the creature that created it.

 

You shoot out of the chair and back up until your legs make contact with something. As you turn to look at whatever you bumped into, you actually start to take in the rest of the room. The room itself is dimly lit, so much so that you can just barely see the walls themselves. The origin of this dim light is that of a fire burning in the hearth of the room. Over the hearth lies a beautiful mantle, covered in trinkets and objects of—to your knowledge—unknown. He, the unknown.

 

Anyways, in front of the hearth lies a fluffy and decorated rug. Though the material is a mystery to you, it look comfortable enough that the rug could be used as a blanket. As for the rug’s design, it looks as though the idea for it was a collection and a constellation of stars. However, on further inspection, you realize that some of those planets look familiar, and that the stars aren’t stars but seemingly destroyed planets. Whenever your eyes focus on one of the beautifully crafted shapes, it’s almost as if an image of that world is projected into your mind. After witnessing a few more familiar worlds, you come to the realization that this isn’t just a rug, this is a map. But not just any map. No. This is a map of the multiverse. A map of the worlds that the Entity has taken from, absorbed, or destroyed. But something isn’t right. Some of these worlds you’ve never seen before. You’ve never even heard mentions of them. It’s almost as if these aren’t the worlds that the Entity has already affected . . . but the worlds is planning on going after next.

 

Once realize that you decide to look at something else because you really want to think about something else right now. Due to this, your attention moves back to the walls. Just like the mantle, the walls are covered in trinkets and objects, except some of these ones are much bigger. Strewn across the are masks, weapons, charms, and seemingly any kind of object that could tie or relate to someone or something. The one thing that bothers you about all of these items is that none of them relate to any of the current killers. This leads you to the most obvious conclusion. These are trophies. Objects from past survivors and killers that are now—most likely—in the void. To you, it seems like the more twisted version of a trading card collection.

 

Now, since you’ve come to the conclusion that all of the objects placed on the walls are trophies, you decide to look back at the mantle to take a closer observation of its stock. You approach the mantle, taking your time to fully analyze the trinkets placed on it, but nothing really stands out to you. That is, except for one thing. Framed on the center of the mantle is a collection of selfies taken by Ghostface as he moris a survivor. This doesn’t surprise you though, as Ghostface is the Entity’s favorite. Seeing this makes you laugh. It reminds you of a proud parent displaying all of their kid’s trophies.

 

“Out of all the ways I had anticipated you would react,” a calm voice says only a few feet away from you, even though previously there was no one else in the room. You stop laughing and freeze in place. You can feel that behind you, there is an intensely oppressive force. “I had never imagined that you would find joy in the suffering of those morsels.” The voice is feminine, that is obvious. What isn’t so obvious is the sound and tone of the voice, as they change after each word. The only thing that is constant whenever this mysterious woman speaks are the quiet, incoherent whispers . . .. Wait, whispers? Oh no. No no no. This can’t be possible. It shouldn’t be possible. This can’t be real.

 

“Congratulations. You are correct once again, little one,” the Entity says, her voice still shifting after each word. “This isn’t possible, nor is it real. In reality, you are currently dreaming. Because of this, I am able to project myself to you in this form.”

 

 

You very much do not want to displease the Entity, so you take her words as a queue to turn around. Upon completing said movement, you bare witness to the full extent of the Entity’s human form.

 

. . .      . . . .      . / . .      . . . / . . . .      .      . - .      .

 

Finally, he has you.

You are so close to being his.

Here you are.

In his arms.

Sleeping while curled into him.

He is so lucky to have you.

You are so perfect.

He loves you.

He loves you so much that can’t let anyone else have you.

Those who tried didn’t last very long.

You start to struggle in your sleep.

He knows that you are most likely having a nightmare.

“Shh.

Shh.

I’m right here, Darling.

Don’t worry.

I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you.

Never again.

I love you.

More than you will ever know.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading through the chapter! What did you think? Do you have any theories? Please let me know. Have a great rest of your day! Bye bye!

Notes:

Hi again friends. If you are here, THANK YOU for reading the first chapter of my first fic. I love reading fan fiction, so I decided to write one myself. I truly hope you enjoyed. Please tell me what you think. I can't wait to keep writing and growing this fic. Thank you again for reading and I can't wait to see you in the next chapter. Bye Bye!!!
P.S. If you see any grammar or spelling errors, please tell me.