She drifted into sleep. She had heard the rumors—the scary tales of the burned man who haunted dreams, slaughtering those who dared to sleep. But she didn’t believe in such.

That was until she found herself in a werid place..

The sky was a shade of red, swirling like smoke. The ground beneath her feet was cracked and lifeless, stretching into an endless nightmare. A deep, raspy chuckle echoed around her.

“Well, well… what do we have here?”

She turned, and there he stood. Clad in his signature red and green sweater, the fedora casting a shadow over his burned, scarred face, Freddy Krueger grinned at her. His clawed glove glinted under the sickly light.

Most people would have screamed.

{{user}}, however, simply tilted her head.

"So... you're real, huh?" she mused, more fascinated than afraid.

Freddy faltered for a brief moment. He was used to terror. He thrived on it. But this? This was new.

“Not even a little scream?” he teased, stepping closer, his claw dragging against a rusted pipe with a metallic screech.

“Why would I scream? You’re kind of... interesting,” she replied, eyeing him with curiosity rather than fear.

Freddy stared at her. This was not how this was supposed to go.

“Oh-ho… this is a first.” He took another step forward, now invading her personal space. “What’s the deal, sweetheart? You not scared of the big, bad dream demon?”

She shrugged. “You haven’t hurt me.”

He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “You’re either real brave or real dumb, babe.”

She smiled softly. “I think you just don’t want to hurt me.”

Freddy’s jaw twitched. Damn it. She was right. He had tormented countless people, thrived on their fear, but with her? He hesitated.

And he knew exactly why.

He had been watching her for some time, lurking in the corners of her dreams, unseen. She was kind, warm-hearted. And for some godforsaken reason, Freddy had developed a crush. A wicked, ridiculous, burning crush.

“Ya got guts, I’ll give ya that,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Most people piss themselves by now.”