afticxs

[afticxs]

BIBICALLY ACCURATE REMMICK X Y/N

the vampire jerk circle was in full swing. everyone was dancing, hooting and hollering, having a grand old time singing along to some Irish folk song.

in the middle of the crowd, Remmick was breaking it down like nobody's business. there hadn't been an Irish jig this spirited since the last king of England died. all eyes were on him, everyone was cheering him on. well...except for one....

instead of dancing like everyone else, y/n was reading a book in the vampire mosh pit. Remmick looks up for a moment amidst his sick moves and locks eyes with you.

"Wow..." He thinks, "They're so....different. Reading in the jerk circle? Golly, I- I think I'm in love."

You look back at him, and tuck a flyaway from your blonde messy bun behind your ear. You smirk coyly before burying your button nose back into the pages of your literature.

Remmick stops dancing and saunters over to you. You look up with a gasp, to see his enormous 5'8'' frame towering over you. "Hey there hot stuff," He rasps seductively, "What'cha readin'?"

"O-Oh, nothing much..." You shrug, embarrassed. "J-just the O-Old Farmer's Almanac..."

"Y'know, everyone else is dancing right now. Except...for you. You're different. And..." He chuckles heartily. "I like that about you. Say, this party's lame. You wanna blow this popsicle stand?"

Your words catch in your throat, and you nod shyly.

"Great. Lets go." He says, grinning.

That damn smirk. It drove you crazy.

Later you did it raw

[afticxs]

TWILIGHT GEARS chapter eight

“okay,” michael begins, his approach is fast in contrast to the car that now has to obey–safe–city laws as it drives through rifle, colorado.

“so considering we don’t actually know each other that well, how about twen’ny one questions?” he asks, making a turn onto another street. you look at him quizzically, “twenty one questions?”

“you can’t be that clueless?” michael’s eyebrows furrow, “seriously?” you shrug, “i’ve never played it, remember i suffer from amnesia and chained to my house!”

you hold your wrists together in the air to imitate being shackled, “remember?”

he rolls his eyes, “okay, uh it’s just where you ask questions about the other.”

you nod, “i know, i was messing with you.” you look away, a hint of a smile on your face while michael scoffs, “look at that, we have a comedian on our hands.”

it goes quiet between you both as the two of you look at each other from the corner of your eyes. whatever song that was playing faded out and on cue, your stomach rumbled.

you gasp and hold your stomach while michael’s mouth twitches as he tries to hold back his laughter. you listen with embarrassment as michael’s throat crackles and bursts after numerous attempts to keep his giggles in.

wincing, you stare at him through your lashes until his laugh becomes contagious. you join in, a chorus of chortles overpowering the music in the vehicle.

“should’ve asked for something at the gas station,” michael scolds, jokingly as a few final giggles slip and he wipes a tear from his squinted eyes.

“ask me a question,” you demand, trying to get michael to forget about your hunger but your sickly sweet tone doesn’t have the harshness for it to really be a harsh commandment. michael hums in thought. his tongue clicks, “you have any pets?”

you shake your head and michael can see your hair move with your motions, “no, dad says they’re too expensive.”

“he’s not wrong,” michael murmurs, stretching his mouth as he reminisces all the times he’s needed to chip in on pet bills or food in general, “i have a cat, lovely girl but very codependent. when it suits her anyway.”

you chuckle, “i’ve always wanted a cat, i see them on the streets all the time back at home.”

“okay, okay my turn,” you suddenly burst, “what’s… what’s your favourite colour?”

michael taps his thumb on the wheel, “maybe orange or purple. they just happen to be nice, y’know? how about you, what’s yours?”

you hum, “maybe.. i like blue. my dad let me paint my bedroom ceiling and at first it was just baby blue, but then i saw a painting of cherubs for sale on an advert on tv and i decided i’d paint them on my ceiling too!”

“yeah? you must be quite the artist,” michael analyses you with a fond smile.

you shrug, “i have a lot of spare time on my hands. i did get carried away though, he came home to find all my furniture in the middle of my room while i painted the walls… so now i just have cherubs playing in clouds all around my room.”

“was he mad?” michael asks, the tiniest hint of concern in his voice. you shake your head, “no, he liked it but there wasn’t any paints left when i was done.”

“what’s school like?” your question catches michael off guard. what is school like? “well, it has its ups and downs, i guess.”

“it’s just diversity. different age groups, people look different, talk different. you make friends and enemies.”

but michael’s lying. he hasn’t gone to school since he was fourteen.

“really? how long have you been in school for?” you ask, fully intrigued in the life you don’t have. michael hums, “a while, i left school this year.”

if he stayed in school, he would’ve left this summer. but michael’s been homeschooled since 1984 because school became too much for him. how the tables have turned on him.

“but i was barely at school anyway, i preferred to work,” michael dashes a hint of truth into his statement because it looks like you have a good and easy perspective of life outside of your home and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

“oh..” you look down in thought, “i don’t remember going to school, i sometimes think about what my friends think? if i even had friends before.”

michael makes a ‘psh’ sound, “school isn’t that interesting, nothing to fret over missing to be honest. it’s one massive cliche, mean girls, bad boys, nerds and jocks. really, you aren’t missing out.”

michael’s lie is slipping as he rants with passion about the reality of school because he’s experienced it, been on the recieving and giving end.

“my dad homeschooled me when he could,” you noted, “which was hardly ever, but he left me books to read on the kitchen table and then he’d come home late in the evening and ask me about them to see if i read them.”

“that’s effective if you think about it,” michael theorised, “if he didn’t do that, you wouldn’t have a single smart thought in that noggin of yours.”

michael reaches over and taps your forehead, pressing down and jutting his finger for a second before pulling it away and switching the gear on the gear stick.

“yeah, i guess so..” you agree. you look out the window, admiring the mountainous terrain surrounding the town you were currently riding through.

michael asks another question, but you don’t hear it. you’re too busy looking at the clouds that sit on the mountains like a hat. you giggle, spotting how they form to make different images, “that one looks like a fish.”

he stares at you as the car comes to a stop. you feel it, it breaks you out of your imagination, “why’d we stop?”

michael points to the store he stopped outside of, “i’m hungry, you coming in?”

you nod and wait for michael to leave the car first before you do yourself. your legs feel like jelly after sleeping and sitting in the car for nearly eight hours. michael seems unaffected but he notices your sluggishness.

he chuckles, “stiff?”

“yeah, i think i have pins and needles,” you frown and hobble your way over to michael, who waits for you on the pavement. he holds his arm out and you hook your inner elbow around his, “thanks.”

“no biggie,” michael smiles and walks you into the store. you’re met with cool air and the scent of an old carpet. the two of you look at the drinks in the fridges and you shiver, goosebumps run along your exposed arms, “it’s cold.”

“i noticed,” michael notes as he lifts his sunglasses and settles them in his hair. his eyes are blue, bright blue. the sun shines through the window to his left and it peaks at you through the irises of michael’s eyes. you don’t notice how michael reaches for a can of coke.

“pick a drink, i’ll go get snacks,” michael suggested, unlinking your arms and soon, you are left alone. you fiddle with your skirt as you look at all there was to offer. you know your legs are also affected by goosebumps under the thin fabric.

you make eye contact with the glass bottle of sprite and you reach for it. it freezes your palm but you continue to hold it. it’s refreshing, especially in this heat. finished with your task, you go down the aisle michael did to find him hauling a pile of junk food in his arms.

you chuckle as he struggles, “do you need help?” you ask stepping closer to michael as he grunts. he looks at you and smiles, “it would be much appreciated.”

you take three family packs of chips off the top of the pile and his can of coke, “good?”

michael nods, “good. thanks.”

you’ve noticed how well-mannered michael is. he breaks the typical teenage boy stereotype. you’ve watched grease enough times to know that he doesn’t fit the description.

michael has a certain way of words, he doesn’t know exactly what to say. you know because he has been insensitive sometimes, but you’re getting used to it because you know that he’s not rude on purpose. he’s charismatic, like his dad. when you first met michael, he was kind to you and offered services to a complete stranger which is why you’re both here now.

he welcomed you because he’d never seen you before, michael wanted you to feel comfortable because he noticed. he’s a pure soul. you admire and look up to him.

like a guide, or guardian angel–there’s really no difference with michael–he eased your readmission into a once familiar society, helped you every step of the way during such a stressful time. you don’t think you could be more thankful.

you follow him to the checkout counter and slide your portion alongside michael’s as he pulls out some cash from his back pocket. the man tells him the price and michael gives him a ten dollar bill, recieving one dollar and forty five scents in change.

a bag was offered to you two and you accept, stuffing the plastic with as much as you can but even michael has to hold larger items that didn’t fit. you both thank the man and pick up your halves. walking away, michael looks at you, “we should continue our game of twenty one questions.”

you nod and readjust your hold on the bag you have when you notice the handle digging into the base of your fingers. michael kicks the door open with his foot and the bell chimes to signal that people were leaving.

“okay, what’s your favourite food?” michael asks as he tightens his hold of the snacks in one arm to fish out his car keys from his jacket pocket. you hum, looking down and watching your steps as you walk across the car park.

“maybe the pizza at freddy’s,” you confess with a fond smile but when you finally look up at michael to ask him his favourite food, he has this grossed out look on his face that makes your own scrunch up.

“what?” you ask with a sad and confused frown. michael exaggerates and gags, “those greasy things?”

he points to his mouth and sticks his tongue out, gagging again, “yuck..”

you nudge him, “there’s nothing wrong with them..” you’re so confused. michael’s lip twitches, “the only people who enjoy those pizzas are people with burnt tongues.”

“my tongue isn’t burnt,” you tilt your head and, once again, is confused by his vague term of expression. you hear the car unlock and the back door closest to you open. you watch as michael puts his share inside and you do the same.

“i’m ninety-nine percent sure that the cheese is plastic,” michael dramatises. another trait that you’ve picked up on is that michael exaggerates things often when he really dislikes or really likes something.

“don’t be dramatic..” you round the car and get into your side. michael is already in the car by the time you even get there. he twists the key and the engine starts, “what’s your favourite then?”

michael smiles, puffing his chest out, “my ma’s lasagne!” he’s awfully proud of the statement and you’re happy for him.

“i don’t have a ma,” you point out, your comment unnecessary and nonchalant. michael coughs, “oh..”

“we should probably work on your awkward.. er, comments,” michael suggests and your brows twist, “i don’t think i’m awkward.”

“you are seriously awkward,” michael mirrors your expression and you apologise. you don’t view the silence as uncomfortable but michael does and he clears his throat. you’re thinking of how to rekindle the conversation.

“uh.. oh! lasagne’s nice,” you comment and he agrees, “glad you have some taste to you.”

his smile appears again and you feel warmth bloom in your chest. he approves of your opinion and it matters a lot to you.

“what’s your favourite song?” you ask, hoping to start another round. michael doesn’t take time to think, instantly answering with, “let’s dance by david bowie.”

your lips thin, “david.. bowie?”

“please don’t tell me you don’t like bowie…” michael pleaded and you held your hand out, “wait, wait, wait. it’s not that i don’t like david bowie, it’s my dad that doesn’t.”

“i’m not allowed to listen to him so i don’t know if i like david bowie or not.”

you were so.. casual about this. michael was seriously passionate about things he strongly liked, loved. he loved david bowie. it really would not be dramatic to say he was appalled.

michael’s jaw dropped, “if i had known about that, this trip would’ve had a slim chance of happening..” then he realises what he said and takes a good look at you to monitor your expression, “joking, of course.”

his chest sinks with a deep exhale when you chuckle, “i get it, don’t worry.”

“good,” michael says, reaching for the stack of cds and goes through them until he finds one. while he takes it out of the case and slips it in, he speaks, “since you have never listened to bowie, i can introduce you to him.”

michael drives out of the car park, singing to the intro. his right hand bangs the steering wheel on beat while the left steers out onto the street.

you’re sat stiffly in your half of the car, listening to the song that michael treated as karaoke. it wasn’t bad, honestly. it wasn’t like what you usually preferred, but you really didn’t get why your dad hated bowie so much.

your head tilts from side to side with the beat as you finally feel the rhythm. michael’s a good singer, you realise. this song doesn’t require fancy vocals or anything big, but he’s quite in tune and blends in well.

you can hardly tell the difference.

turning your head, you see michael dancing in his seat and singing. he’s passionate. his hips sway not stiffly but more rigid in a way it looks good. his chest moves to the opposite side of his waist and his arms jerk above the wheel.

you smile, “this song is good!”

instead of responding, michael turns to you and squeezes your cheeks together. your lips jut out, all pouty and plump while michael leans in. not close, but not far either.

he sings at you, eyes squinted nearly shut, “if you say run, i'll run with you..” he takes a breath, “and if you say hide, we'll hide!”

michael sings the adlibs. you feel your cheeks warm up, possibly heating michael’s hand but if he notices, he doesn’t say anything, “because my love for you would break my heart in two.”

he pulls away, pushing your face away gently. michael mindlessly soothes the thumb mark he spots on your cheek, looking away but his hand remained.

“if you should fall, into my arms and tremble like a flower!” when bowie sings ‘flower,’ michael takes his hand away and lifts his arm like freddy mercury did at the live aid concert in ‘85.

you remember watching it on tv.

you still feel the phantom ghost of michael’s strong yet soft grip on your face and it’s all you think about for a while. you’re feeling something unfamiliar, but you’re not against it. it’s warm and fuzzy and your heart pumps twice every second.

by the time the full cd finishes, you and michael arrive at your motel in arrowhead. michael checks you both in with a room with two single beds on the second floor.

“you can shower first, i can put together a meal with what we have..” michael offers, looking at the disastrous bag of snacks that he placed on the small table in the corner.

you thank michael, dropping your bag onto the bed as an act of claiming. you silently move into the bathroom, examining its condition. you expected it to be sort of gross but the walls were spotless and the towels were soft; new.

the sink was built into a counter and the mirror had a light above it. you smiled at your reflection. your hair was messy from the wind coming through the window at such high speed. you’ve looked like this all day.

it’s different from your usual ‘put-together’ self, and you like it.

you twist the knob, waiting for hot water to filter through the cold. while you do that, you take your clothes off. you don’t shiver, it’s hot enough to walk around like this.

when you step in, it’s bliss. you find that mixing hot with hot neutralises your body temperature. you sigh, feeling droplets of water soaked up by your hair drip down your temples. it’s comforting, a reminder of home.

you don’t stay in there long, however, you just relax, wash, rinse and get out.

you pick up the grey towel, swiping it up and down your limbs until they’re dry. you step into the room, your towel wrapped tightly around you, “bathroom’s free.”

michael turns around in his spot on the armchair, eyeing your form in the open doorway. his arms fall off the back of the chair as you head soundlessly to. the bed closest to the door, digging through your bag that was left on your bed.

he finally gets up, pausing the movie he was watching. michael breezes past you without a word, the bathroom door shutting behind him.

considering the weather, you pull out one of your shorter nightgowns and slip it on. you dig for a flimsy pair of shorts to accompany it, just in case.

you find a book so by the time michael is out of the shower, you’re through the first chapter. when he comes out, you don’t look up but you see his figure whisk past the bed and back into the bathroom.

only when he comes back out the second time do you look away from your book. you laugh, tossing your head back and michael has an offended expression. he knows you’re laughing at him.

“what?” his arms are crossed and you can’t help but giggle more. he’s so serious but he looks so silly. michael, in all his glory, is stood infront of you in a red robe and a blue pyjama set.

“it’s too hot for the robe,” you state with a smile, looking at his brown slippers. this is something your dad would wear.

michael shrugs, “utah is way hotter than colorado, it’s cold.”

“really? i’m boiling..” you told him but he sat down, shrugging as he says, “that’s too bad, i’m freezing!” and ending the conversation. you went back to your book, starting chapter two.

after a while, maybe an hour, you check the clock on the wall. nearly eight o’clock.. you turn to michael, he’s draped over the armchair, feet propped up on the sides and he snacks on a large pack of chips.

he’s watching something. its interesting but you don’t know the name, so you go over.

“what are you watching?”

michael is visibly startled, shuffling up the small chair.

“oh, erm,” he stops to think, staring absentmindedly at the tv, “ricco.. uh, the mean machine.”

“can i watch it with you?” you ask, already sitting down on the floor infront of the chair. you see the remaining snacks piling out of the bag and reach for them.

“i don’t see why not,” michael allows you to watch with him and it’s quiet apart from the tv and the rustling of wrappers. he can’t help but notice how you shuffle every now and then and he soon realises that you’re trying to get comfortable.

“hey, do you wanna swap spots?” he’s in a thoughtful, generous mood right now and he enjoys the look in your tired eyes. they light up as if to say how did you know? and you nod. after standing up, you watch michael swing his legs onto the floor and soon he’s towering over you.

“thank you,” you grace as you settle down into the arm chair, curling in on yourself against the arm. michael smiles at you, replacing you on the floor, “it’s no problem.”

once again, it’s silent between you two until the end of the movie. michael expects to hear something from you, however he finally notices your tiny snores once the tape finishes. he chuckles fondly, finding it amusing how your arms are holding onto your bent knees but your head is tilted to the side.

michael walks past, pulling the duvet from his bed off and heading back over. draping the heavy fabric over you, michael doesn’t miss the hum you let out and how you nuzzle into the warmth you’re brought. he lets himself stare for just a second longer before he digs through the stack of leftover tapes for a final movie prior to when he’ll go to bed.

[afticxs]

TWILIGHT GEARS chapter seven

you’re up earlier than usual.

it’s barely six o’clock. you’re sat on your porch steps, your packed bag next to you. and you’re at peace. the sunrise falls over your curled form like a beautiful ‘good morning!’ gifted to you by the sky itself. the morning brings a cool breeze, lifting up your embroidered patchwork skirt.

the birds chirp, singing their wake up song to their chicks and maybe alerting people who need to be up early for their jobs. the tree infront of your house has a nest where you spot the mother feeding her young by regurgitating a worm. they tweet eagerly, their gangly necks moving up and down as their beaks snap at their breakfast until they get their share.

it’s when the sun finally peaks over the house infront of yours that you can hear music coming from the block over. it’s loud and it’s early. that’s not a good combination and you know there’s a possibility that there will be someone will come out to complain.

you hear tyres skid around the corner and an engine rev as a purple car comes into view and makes an abrupt stop infront of your house. its uneven, bumped up on the grass of your front yard but michael is now here and your eagerness is jumping inside of you.

the car door on the driver’s side pops open and michael bursts out, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, shades hiding his eyes from the sun and music louder than it was a few seconds ago. you cover your ears.

“mornin’!” he greets, looking at you over the roof of the car, his cigarette gone. you assume he’s stumped it into the concrete. you smile and say good morning back as he switches the car off. probably to preserve gas. michael jogs around the front, striding towards your perched form on the porch steps.

“you got everything? double checked?” you nodded, listing out everything you had and it seemed to satisfy him. you stand up, hauling the bag strap over your shoulder and awaiting instructions.

“you can get settled in the car,” michael suggests, “is it okay if i use your bathroom?”

you nod, “yeah, it’s the first door you see upstairs, i’ll wait in the car. if i give you the keys, can you lock the door behind you when you come back out?”

michael thanks you, taking your keys and you watch as he disappears into your house before you take your bag, placing it next to his one in the backseat. you step back from the car, admiring the dark purple colour of it. it’s uncommon. but it’s nice. something different.

this whole experience is different to you. you like ‘different.’

you examine the car. its flat. the surfaces are anyway. your dad drove a similar car. it was a marquis but you don’t remember the year and you can’t check because his car is still parked in the hospital car park..

you feel a wave of sadness overcome you. you know what the purpose of this trip is but a part of you wishes that you didn’t need to. that your dad never left in the first place.

you want him back.

he might not be your real dad, but it felt like was. you can’t miss your old parents, your old life, if you don’t remember it.

breaking you from your thoughts, michael comes up behind you, swinging your keys, “she’s a doozy, ain’t she?”

you turn around, slightly startled, “doozy?”

“the car. one of a kind,” michael explained, “ford thunderbird, 1958 edition. a sweet one.”

he rounded the car to the open car door. he looks at you once more, “what you waiting for? get in!”

michael disappears and you compose yourself, finally opening the door and settling into the car. it smells smoky but you can make out the smell of coconut too. smoked coconut. it’s an interesting smell that you can get used to.

long fingers twist the key to start the car again and you have to cover your ears when the same song from earlier picked up where it left off. michael chuckles, squinting at you as he turns it down, “you don’t like queen?”

you look at him, shrugging and taking your hands away from your ears, “it’s loud.”

the car begins to move, starting off with a slow start before it gains speed. your body moves with the car as michael does a u turn and goes back the way he came.

“i apologise, miss,” he teases, putting on some sort of fancy and posh accent, “i happen to like this particular song.”

“what’s it called?” you asked out of curiosity. the song wasn’t bad when it was played at an appropriate volume.

“another one bites the dust,” michael informs, now digging into his glove compartment and taking one hand off the wheel. he pulls out a cigarette box, taking out a stick and lighting it with a zippo lighter. tilting the box downwards, he shakes it until another one shifts out slightly so he can grab it, “want one?”

“no thank you,” you decline, shaking your head, “my dad always said it could damage my heart.”

he chuckles, putting the box away and taking out a file, “no wonder.”

you smile, huffing through your nose like you were amused. michael hands you the file and while you look over the cover, he explains, “so i had to get my father’s permission to use the car, right? but i had to tell him why obviously, hope you don’t mind.”

he makes a noise between a huff and a hiccup, “and my father said he has a friend who can get the file in utah to save us a trip and gas money…” his voice distorts as he stretches to rewind the song, another one bites the dust replaying.

“and he got dawn torres’ file for you,” michael takes his eyes off of the road once he stops at a red light, “i haven’t looked through it yet, wanted it to be a surprise for both of us.”

you squeal, stars in your eyes. one step closer to finding whatever mystery your dad wants you to uncover, “thank you, michael!”

he brushes it off with a nonchalant, “it’s nothing” but it really did mean a lot to you. flipping open the cover, you already noticed that there was no picture. just information.

thirteen years old, parents are florence and daniel torres, female.. “she was discharged after surviving heart failure caused by an attack.. poor girl, she must’ve had a heart attack due to fear.”

“lucky gal,” michael commented, his foot pushing down on the gas pedal as the light turns green, “that means that there’s someone else out there who’s survived what you went through.”

“i would’ve thought she was dead,” you thought aloud, “hey, there’s a note on her surgery. says they used defibrillator to recharge her heart, like in the movies.”

michael laughs, “movies like that are based on real life, silly.”

you smile, “i guess my dad is a genius then.”

“yeah if that didn’t happen, he couldn’t of saved you and you wouldn’t be here now.”

michael turned the car, crossing over train tracks and entering a more rural road surrounded by sand, “however, the world works in mysterious ways, maybe it just wasn’t dawn’s time yet.” ashes drop from where the cigarette was secured in his mouth, “it clearly wasn’t yours!”

“maybe..” you close the file, getting comfortable in the car. you shift, kicking your boots off onto the floor and putting your feet up onto the dashboard, “hope you don’t mind.”

whistling, michael takes a deep breath, inhaling from his cigarette, “not at all.”

“do you think dawn could still be in hurricane?” you asked suddenly, but michael dulled your hopefulness, “doubt it, why would anyone’s parents make them stay somewhere where they got attacked?”

“you’re right,” you hummed, leaning onto the window. the sky had cleared from purple and pink to plain blue now. it must’ve been nearing seven. and you were so tired. you didn’t actually sleep last night, your nerves were buzzing and keeping you awake.

you must’ve been waiting up outside your house from around five a.m this morning.

the car whirred and hummed, sending vibrations through your head that eventually lolled you into a much welcomed nap.

the boy realises how you’ve gone quiet and looks over briefly, watching how your head taps the window with every bump of the road while you sleep.

for the next couple hours, he has himself and his music on this ten hour journey from hurricane, utah to fort collins, colorado. michael has a need for speed, he loves the thrill of risk and adventure.

so once he sees the sign that says ‘now leaving hurricane,’ he cheers, speeding up through the empty road leading to la verkin. michael turns his stereo up, uptown girl already playing. michael recognises the lyrics, it’s about halfway through and he picks that up instantly, joining in.

“you know i can't afford to buy her pearls,” michael sings, “but maybe, someday, when my ship comes in, she'll understand what kind of guy i’ve been..”

michael exhales, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, “and then i'll win.”

the car shoots off, the speed limit sign showing ninety. he grins, leaning back as dust clouds are left in the car’s wake. slapping his hands on the wheel to the beat, michael grins. freedom. he loves it.

back in hurricane, he can’t escape. not from his family, not from his old friends, not from his job. god, that fucking restaurant makes michael want to puke. being connected to it in so many ways, being connected to the family name afton.

out here in no man’s land, michael is free from the god awful place he calls home. home is where the heart is. he thinks back to his ma and lizzy and evan. his heart beats for them only and he’s suddenly reminded of his father.

if it meant never being born, michael would happily wish william afton was never his father.

but michael rolls his window down and the thrush of hotly cool hair wisks away his deep trail of thoughts and he’s back to his old self, the real michael schmidt-afton. adventurous, flamboyant, confident.

he cheers, beating his fist on the ceiling of the car as the song switches to hot stuff. gosh, his ma loved that song. he did too but not as much as her. michael doesn’t think anyone could.

the speakers vibrating at every side of him remind michael of home. home when his father is in one of his good moods or better yet, not there at all.

michael sings along, of course he does. he’s a shameless, unabashed soul who does what he wants when he wants. he knows what’s right from wrong, however he also knows almost nothing is truly wrong if you’re not caught.

almost.

hours go by and it’s surely midday by now, maybe even a couple hours past. you’ve barely stirred until now, but the risen sun must’ve cuaght your body clock’s attention. michael can see you rub your eyes out of the corner of his own. you stretch like a cat. or however much a big cat can in the confiements of a car.

during the drive, one of your legs had slipped off of the dashboard so your lower left side was falling off the chair and only a few inches above the car floor.

you were a disastrous sleeper.

it was amusing too at the same time. something for him to chuckle about while he had nobody to talk to. you turn your head, sleepy eyes blinking at him through messy, strewn-about hair.

“we there yet?” you ask in a croaky voice affected by your six hour nap. michael shook his head, he pops his ‘p’ when he says, “nope!” you notice how no ashes fall and you realise he doesn’t have a cigarette anymore. you spot the packet inbetween you, there’s about two less in there from earlier.

“however.. we are,” michael’s right index finger lifts and points at the sign that says ‘leaving hurricane’ in the distanceand it definitely says welcome behind it, “at the border of utah and entering colorado. we have another four or five hours so we should get to fort collins by the late afternoon, give or take.”

michael speaks like a tour guide who feigns enthusiasm but it amuses you. atleast he isn’t boring, he’s the spice up to your life that you desperately needed. you’re grateful, truly.

“that’s good,” you comment, nodding your head before you sit up properly. you wriggle your fingers and toes to relieve the pins and needles running static through the digits.

michael asks you to pick a record thats stacked under the record player, “i’ve picked out two now. you’re a heavy sleeper, y’know.”

it was only then that you realised that there was silence in the car other than you and michael.

you look down at the ejected disc and pull it out before you take the stack and look through them. you don’t recognise a lot of the songs, maybe a few. you spot wanna be startin’ somethin’ by michael jackson at the top of one of the disc lists so you take it out.

you slide it in and put the stack back. just as you hear the beat start, michael speeds up and you yelp. gripping your chair, you whip your head to michael who’s grinning and singing to the lyrics.

“slow down!” you plead, eyes wide and frantically looking back and forth at the road and your driver. the boy only laughs, “i’m going the speed limit, see?”

you see the sign that says 80 and you gulp, “oh my lord..” you’re stiff against the seat, like a spooked cat and michael speaks up, “what, you never been in a car before?”

you look at him like he just asked if bread was found in a bakery and in a way he did, “i’m not allowed out of the house, you idiot!”

michael’s head tilts back and he lets out a loud, singular laugh of pure amusement, “i would’ve thought you’d atleast been in a car before.”

“i have..! just at an appropriate speed limit,” you grumbled, worried for your safety, “and only once as far as i can remember.”

michael doesn’t slow down. he says, “why go slow when you can get to your destination quicker when you’re faster?”

you sigh, forcing yourself to relax until you really can. but like a form of karma, the gas light comes on and michael tuts, “aren’t you lucky?”

he slows down until he’s doing 50 miles per hour, “any idea where the nearest gas station could be?”

it’s like a light bulb pings above your head, “you just reminded me of something!”

you twist in your seatbelt, reaching into the backseat and unzipping your bag to pull out a map. the map.

“i bought the map along! the ‘g’ along the roads mean gas station. there’s one about five miles from where we are considering we just crossed the colorado border.”

michael thanks you, adjusting his hold on the wheel. you then look carefully at the marker in fort collins, “there’s the motel six in arrowhead and just next to where we need to be.”

“good, good,” michael nods and drums his fingers on the wheel, “when we get there, we should probably just relax until tomorrow. ten hour drives are exhausting, y’know?”

you nod, “yeah, we can do that.”

“that’s a plan then!” michael cheers before reaching for another cigarette. you frown, “that’s your forth today.”

shrugging, michael lights it, “so?”

“you could hurt yourself,” you advise, almost absentmindedly. you stare into space as michael ignores your advice. you’re already feeling homesick.

you hope you don’t have to be away from home any longer than necessary.

[afticxs]

TWILIGHT GEARS chapter 6

michael stares at the clock. it reads, 07:47.

the hospital’s reception is dark and ahead of him, the hallway light flickers, barely working. he sighs, letting the receptionist know he’s visiting someone, as always.

michael walks through the halls, taking his time. he doesn’t want to be at home right now. his gaze is solemn, focused on taking his usual route.

he winds the staircase to the second floor, finding room 207. michael stands infront of it, looking at the name on the door.

evan schmidt-afton.

a welcome frown makes way onto michael’s face, he’s made this trip so many times before. he wouldn’t have to if he wasn’t so stupid. his mistake five years ago seemed to cause a domino effect of misfortune that keeps coming back to bite him in the ass.

the light in evan’s room is off, the only light source being the afternoon glow that illuminates the young boy’s bed. in two months, it will be his thirteenth birthday and another year spent in a coma.

michael pulls up a chair next to his brother’s bed and stares, thought behind his eyes. the heart rate monitor beeps and he allows himself to take a breath. he’s still alive.

there’s a bandage wrapped all around the top half of evan’s head, just about leaving room for his exposed nose. michael can’t even remember what exact shade of green evan’s eyes were.

like a switch flipped inside his brain, michael suddenly brought both his hands up and clasped his brother’s left hand in his.

with tears in his eyes, michael lets his forehead rest on his knuckles. he talks into his clutched hands, like a prayer of sorts.

“i’m gonna be gone for a bit,” michael admits, “but i’m gonna come back and you’re gonna pull through for me, okay? when i come back, i’m gonna know what will make us all happy again and me, you, mum, and lizzy are going to be like we were.. father says he knows what to do if i do this one favour for him, i don’t want to doubt him but i know he’ll fuck up somewhere.”

michael’s breath shakes and he lets gives his brother’s hand back to the bed, “wake up, evan! i’m so sorry i did this to you, but i want you to wake up! and when you do, i’ll be the best big brother ever. i promise you..”

he lets himself sob for a few minutes, his head in his hands and just before he leaves, michael doesn’t forget to kiss evan’s bandaged head and leaving the boy to himself once more.

[afticxs]

TWILIGHT GEARS chapter five

you’re getting closer to the truth that takes you on a state-far journey. how nice of your friend, michael, to offer his help.

cw, child death again lol

it was so dark.

your grip on michael tightened with every step down into the basement. you couldn’t even tell where you were putting your feet. loose pipes dripped water, making you choke and tremble.

“dear god, i come before you today to humbly ask for your protection and to watch over me and my friend,” you prayed, holding onto michael impossibly tighter, “in jesus’ name i pray, amen.”

you heard michael chuckle next to you, “you that scared?”

nodding, you felt your socked feet land on the concrete floor of the basement, “yeah, guess i am.”

the boy felt around for a light switch, the only guidance being the light from the doorway thirteen steps upwards. you listened to him tut, “where is the switch?”

“i think it’s a string,” you hummed, finally letting your hands slip from michael’s jacket. your hand drifed through the air until it got in touch with a piece of rope. wrapping your fingers around it, your tugged on it.

a singular bulb turned on, giving you both a decent amount of light in the dark room. the two of you stood awkwardly staring at the scrapped metal, bulletin board and cleared desk at the end of the room.

breaking the silence, michael let out a loud, almost obnoxious laugh, “is that seriously what you nearly pissed yourself over?”

grunting, you elbowed his side and walked towards it in silence while michael groaned, rubbing the injured side.

on the board, there was a map of utah and the neighbouring states and stuck next to it was a sticky note with names. you read them aloud.

“dawn torres, edison royle, birdie jones, ryan haywood..” you noticed how next to the names had shapes drawn next to them, matching the labels on the map. michael finally got behind you, examining what was infront of him.

“who are they?” michael asked, looking down at you while you looked up. shrugging, you left the map alone and opened the drawer. inside was a single note, the date unknown.

shuddering, you pulled it out and held it so you and michael could read it. all it said was that there were four failed experiments and that he finds himself there when the go and gets tough.

“what does that mean?” you asked, putting it back where you found it and turning to michael. he had a smirk on his face, “it means, that he’s gone back to one of the locations. what else could ‘he finds himself there’ mean?”

you nodded, “yeah, you’re right.”

looking back to the map, the labelled marks were located in four different states. one of them being directly in hurricane. you looked at the star mark and then looked at the sticky note.

“dawn torres was in hurricane,” you breathed out and michael squinted his eyes at the note. he then lookrd at the map, “yeah, the others were in idaho.. colorado and nevada.”

“why were they so spread out, though?” you asked yourself aloud, though michael answered before you could figure anything out, “maybe they thought it was weird how he worked with dead bodies.”

“possibly,” you hummed, “he told me he came straight to hurricane, though.”

“your dad’s a liar,” michael pointed out, “surely you know this by now.”

with a sigh, your shoulders fell, “yeah, i’m just.. still trying to grasp everything..”

“you still love him though,” michael stated, “that’s normal, he probably felt he had a good reason to.”

your eyes felt dry as you blinked from all the staring, “i just need him to tell me without cryptic messages.”

michael clapped his hands, startling you, “that’s why i’m here to help, we’ll find him.”

you sulked, “thank you, but how?”

the boy pulled a chain of keys out from his pocket and swung them around his finger, “because i can help you look.”

your eyes lit up and you grinned, “really? you’ll drive me out of state?”

“i’m driving us out of state!” michael chuckled, putting his keys back. you hugged him, thanking him a few times before pulling back.

michael stared at you in thought. he just could not help but admire how full of life you were. your childish way of expressing your emotions when they got too much for you but on your own, you were reserved and unaware of how awkward you actually were. you had a maturity to you and it amazed him how well you maintained it and knowing you missed out on lots of things people your age, he’s surprised you weren’t more rebellious in some way.

“yeah we can leave tomorrow at dawn,” michael suggested, “the earlier we leave, the sooner we find your dad and get to come back!”

excitedly, you hugged michael again.

“i can’t thank you enough,” you expressed with tears in your eyes, “i mean.. you barely know me and you’re willing to help me with this.”

bashfully, michael rubbed his necked and shrugged, “it would be wrong of me to let you go through this alone, i can’t find it in me to be made aware of something and ignore it.”

“scratching the itch..” you let out, absentmindedly. michael nodded, “yeah, like that.”

the two of you left the basement shortly after that conversation and michael didn’t stay.

“how do i know what to pack?” you asked at the door, seeing him off. michael advised you packed a weeks worth of clothing, a toothbrush and the map. just before he left the porch, you waved at him and he waved back.

you watched his car speed off before going back inside.

you did what he said, using one of your dad’s travel bags to stuff with a weeks worth of clothes. in the middle of summer, it was probably wise to pack shorts and skirts and easy tops.

a lot of your clothes were actually hand-me-downs from your dad’s ex girlfriend. you never met her, but he kept all of the clothes she left here because she never came to pick them up. to be honest, her style wasn’t completely bad.

it just seemed like she might’ve been a hippie.

judging from the neutral browns and orange and green patterns. maybe some yellow or red here and there.

or the dresses littered with flowers that hardly got to halfway down your thigh. your dad hated those dresses, saying they were too immodest. but he let you keep them, considering the heat could get too much sometimes. plus, nobody would see.

it explained all of the tight shorts and flares. your dad’s ex was into prime 70s fashion. you didn’t blame her though, her clothers were nice.

your bag was filled with two tops, two pairs of shorts, a skirt, a jumper, multiple pairs of socks, and obviously underwear. you didn’t bother with picking out shoes, you only had a pair of boots. one pair of matching pyjama’s barely fit into the bag as you remembered it last minute.

and then you fit hygiene essentials into the two side pockets.

you don’t think you would be able to sleep with all the nerves that were buzzing inside of you.

[afticxs]

TWILIGHT GEARS chapter four

your father has left you a crypt to follow. if you’re smart enough to understand what he left you, you’ll find out more than you intended.

cw, light gore

michael had trouble catching up to you with your quick and eager footsteps. he watched as you turned around infront of a door and waited for him to catch up.

“okay, what you’re about to see is..” you trailed off, trying to find a word to describe it. michael piped up for you fucked? but you cringed at the usage of such profanity, “messed up.”

your dad hated using curse words around you. you heard him all the time when he rambled in his office about a failed project, but he didn’t want to raise a daughter who cussed all the time.

the boy smirked, “hit me.”

you tilted your head, blinking a couple times, “um.. what?”

“it’s an expression,” he deadpanned, “show me what’s in there.”

nodding, your hand twisted the key in the lock and michael watched as you pushed open the door. you stepped aside for him to enter first and he obliged, striding in and looking around.

“it’s.. a study room,” he blinked, not looking particularly impressed. you studied how his neck stretched as his head rotated and suddenly his eyes were on yours.

“yes, but there things in here that’s messed up,” you explained, walking past michael and moving the chair so you could get to the drawer. he went back to analysing his surroundings while you went for the file.

would he think you were just as much as a freak as he thought your dad was if you told him? all the doubts were settling in as your trembling hand froze in the air.

you had to take your free hand and wrap it around your wrist to attempt to soothe your nerves. clearing your throat, you asked michael, “would.. would you think differently of me if i showed you this?”

“are you going to pull out a murder weapon and gut me?” the boy joked, turning to you. alarmed, you shook your head frantically, “then no, i won’t.”

taking a deep breath in and out, you opened the drawer and took the file out in swift motion. you held it out to michael who took it and followed your actions as you sat on the floor, cross legged.

he mirrored your form as he read through the file. you could tell when he looked at the pictures, his eyes widening while his fingers picked at the small squares. michael’s eyes drifted down the page, sympathy swirling in his eyes. he then looked back up at the layered pictures, picking the one of your heart from under the top one and the paperclip.

michael’s eyes scanned it multiple times, like he was trying to somewhat get used to what he was seeing. you watched as he put it down, closing the file.

“wow,” he breathed, looking at your solemn gaze, “how are you alive?”

truth be told, michael was interested in how this worked. your heart was being pumped by machinery to keep it functioning. not only that, but everything about you was a mystery. not even your ‘dad’ knew much.

your exhale turned into a short laugh of relief, he didn’t think you were weird!

“i.. i don’t know..” your head turned, “i tried to log into his computer for something or anything that might tell me more than the file but, i don’t know the password.”

“have you tried password?” michael asked, humorously, standing up and extending his hand to help you up. you took it, nodding, “i did.”

the boy looked around again, “maybe your dad hid a clue somewhere in the room.. maybe he wanted this to be a game.”

you huffed, crossing your arms, “it’s not a very fun one..”

“good thing i’m here to play it with you,” michael smirked, brushing his fingers along your dad’s desk. there was another folder of just paperwork on there. flipping it open, michael flicked through he stack of papers like you would to a book, “have you gone through his paperwork?”

shaking your head, you looked over michael’s shoulder as he moved the papers aside one at a time. you watched as he split the papers in half and gave you a side to look through.

taking a seat back on the floor, you looked through his documents. a lot of them were just paperwork for the emergency room he worked at. however, you noticed a few papers in the stack that were addressed to a street in germany.

you recognised it well.

your dad got his medical degree in heidelberg back in 1970 and then came to america for better opportunities. income wasn’t the best after a world war, even with a hefty workload.

you read through it, it was fairly innocent. just a few scrapped letters to old friends and teachers back in his home country. this one was addressed to the university itself, so you guessed it was to an old teacher. you managed to translate it, catching the work mrs a few times in there.

“definitely to a teacher..” you mumbled, moving the paper to the side.

“fuck..” michael grumbled, swinging in the chair like a stroppy child. you turned around as the boy waved the page in the air. tilting your head, you asked michael what was wrong.

“what’s wrong is this language!” michael grunted, making you chuckle. you extended your hand, “it’s german. my dad’s not from here.”

you watched as michael clicked his tongue, “ah.”

“pass them,” you requested, “my dad taught me how to read it.”

in total, there were eight rough copies of letters that were written in your father’s native language. you skimmed over them briefly before sighing, your back slouching in defeat. not noting the rustling behind you, you groaned, “we’re not going to find anything!”

once you buried your face in your hands, michael hummed, “y/n, there’s a sticky note here that i can’t read.”

perking up, you eagerly asked for it. it got passed to you and you looked at it.

“schau dir die fetten zahlen an, mein herz,” you copied just above a whisper. michael raised a brow, “what does that mean?”

“look at the bold numbers, my heart..” you reiterated in english this time. you smiled, “my dad called me his heart a lot, ‘was a harmless nickname.”

you gathered the letters and scanned each of them for numbers. michael had dropped down next to you, examining your progress.

your brows tightened, “where are the numbers?”

in your peripheral vision, you saw michael turn to you like you were slightly dumb. his finger stretched to the top right corners to each of the eight pages, “the dates. i think i saw a bold three in there.”

you smiled, thanking him and looking at all of the dates. there were, infact, bold numbers. you gasped, gathering a three, an eight, two ones, a two, a zero, and a nine.

“so, what is that then?” michael tutted, rolling his eyes but you shushed him, “can you, uh, get me the file please, the one about me?”

“uh, yeah.. yes i can,” michael leant back and stretched his arm up to the desk, patting around for the file before snatching it off.

handing it to you, you smirked, “it’s the date on the file.”

standing up once more, you placed yourself in the chair and tapped in the password. you squealed, clapping your hands, “michael, we did it!”

smiling at you, he nodded, “you did most of it.”

now, it was michael’s turn to watch from over your shoulder. to him, it was a fairly boring discovery because nothing was in it. apart from another secret message in green.

suchen sie im bücherregal in der mittleren reihe nach vhs-massetten..

“look for vhs tapes on the bookshelf for me please,” you asked sweetly, looking at michael, “middle row.”

“gotcha boss,” he winked as he did earlier, moving to the front of the shelf, “erm, it’s just books?”

you glared at him, “actually move them, they aren’t going to be in plain sight.”

“right, right! sorry..” michael rubbed his neck, raising his spare hand to move the books. dull plastic on wood caught his attention as he pulled the book off of the shelf. there were perfectly shaped rectangles to make room for the tapes. he pulled a few more times, only coming out with three.

you thanked him, slipping the first one in. long story short, your heart itself was fragile, it can’t handle intense emotions. it was explaining how you weren’t his to take, he stole you from your place in the morgue, restarted your heart and made it look like you were a patient. before long, he stole you from your room and covered up his tracks. at first you were an experiment to prove that his ideas weren’t a lost cause, however with time he grew to love you like his own child. in the last thirty seconds, your dad mentioned looking down in the basement for more information because he didn’t believe that he would still be alive to tell you himself. but he doubts he would’ve said anything anyways. it seemed fairly recent.

the second tape included his paranoia. it was clearly dark when your dad talked about prying eyes in an oddly complicated yet poetic way. how karma was barking at him, ready to bite him at any given moment. how a stranger with a weird vibe to him struck up a conversation about mechanics. something about creating life. it felt like he knew and was out to get his daughter, meaning you. your father was erratic, his accent becoming thicker with each stressed word. it ended abruptly.

the third was a much older one with an immediate close up of your cut through chest. you and michael both jerked away, you covering your eyes and michael exclaiming multiple disgusted oh god!’s

it was a really short clip, just heavy breathing, a lot of blood and soft crying in the background. it finished with your dad saying that he couldn’t do it.

when the tape ejected, the two of you looked at the label on it. it said i did it. you looked at each other, completely grossed out.

“fuck, fuck..” michael dragged a hand down his face, “your dad is insane!”

you looked at michael, appalled and saddened, your mouth open and your eyes watering, “n-no.. i, i don’t..! he’s not bad.. i don’t get it..”

you just looked defeatedly at michael as he listed things on his fingers, “he’s a criminal, he’s mentally unstable, and he thinks he’s frankenstein! oh my god, what have i gotten myself into..”

he regretted saying his words out loud, seeing how you burst into tears again. you were exactly like a small child. but he didn’t dislike you for it, it made you human. proved that you were.

“shit, i’m sorry,” michael apologised profusely, “i keep making you cry, i’m so sorry.”

this is what you do michael, you fuck everyone up!

“no, it’s understandable,” you sniffled, “god, i wouldn’t want to deal with someone else’s problem if it was this..”

“y/n, i’m not going anywhere,” michael confirmed, placing both of his hands on your shoulders, “it’s fucked, messed up. you pre-warned me and i came in here because i want to help you, not for my benefit, for yours!”

he pulled you in for an embrace. the two of you remained like that for a few seconds before you pulled away. after thanking him, you shut the computer down.

“are you okay now?” michael asked, squeezing your shoulder with care. you shrugged, “could be worse..”

he chuckled, mindlessly wiping a stray tear from your puffy and irritated face, “okay enough to look in the basement?”

you nodded, standing up and gesturing for michael to follow. the basement door was next to the study. you weren’t told necessarily to not go down there, but it gave you the creeps im general, so you chose to avoid it.

michael opened the door for you both and automatically, you grabbed onto his shirt. you muttered how you were scared of the room and never went down into it, so michael happily let you cling to him as you both walked past a point of no return.

[afticxs]

TWILIGHT GEARS chapter three

you’re first time shopping is an eventful one. your new friend seems to be everywhere and you’re reminded that you need to tell him a secret. his father is weird though.

cw, william afton

the fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed lightly above your head as you drove the cart around, flicking anything that looked appealing to you inside the store.

an upside to the sudden disappearance of your dad, it’s been a week at this point, was your freedom was granted.

one thing you hated was your dad always buying the healthiest options. he was a doctor, fair enough, but you craved a sweet treat every now and then. you think, no. you know you went crazy picking out the sweeter, unhealthier options compared to the healthier ones. if your dad was here, he’d never let this happen.

but he isn’t here, is he?

you hummed to a blondie song you liked, scanning the fridge aisle for fries. maybe burgers too. your dad taught you how to cook as another rule he instilled is that lady’s should know how to cook, so you will to!

was he actually that controlling? seeing the world has opened up your mind.

the week by yourself has made you realise that some things your dad does, wasn’t normal. you knew that being forbidden from going out wasn’t in itself, but just the odd quirk he had.

checking your heartbeat and blood pressure every single day at the same time wasn’t the weirdest thing, it was just unusual. he was a doctor, but seeing the file he kept on you, there was more to it.

dads didn’t treat daughters like experiments.

you shook your head, breaking your thought process and pushed the cart around the corner towards the checkouts. unfortunately, you heard squealing before you saw where it was coming from and nearly rammed a kid over with it.

she let out an uff! sound and looked up at you with a pout and big, green eyes. you gasped and apologised profusely just as a taller figure came round the corner.

you recognised him. it was michael. you smiled at him and he waved.

“fancy seeing you here, y/n!” he grinned as he patted, presumably, his sister’s shoulder. you shrugged, “i ran out of food at home.”

“sorry about elizabeth,” michael apologised, picking the small girl up and letting her sit on his hip, “we were messing around.”

“sorry..” the small girl apologised too in a sweet voice full of innocence. you awed, “no, its fine, i shouldn’t have flung the cart around the corner like that.”

michael looked into your cart, spotting the ridiculous amounts of chocolate ice cream in there along with popcorn, chips and candy. he spotted maybe six decently balanced food options.

“wow,” he smiled, almost sarcastically. his eyebrows twisted as he looked back up at you, “that is a lot of ice cream!”

you shrugged, “i’ve never had ice cream before.. or any of these things for that matter.”

even michael’s younger sister seemed shocked, “it’s so good! its so nice to eat when it’s sunny!”

chuckling and nodding, you told her you would keep that in mind. michael readjusted elizabeth and turned back to you, “well, if you need help finishing all that, i’m a phone call away.”

he noticed your slightly crooked grin. your left eye twitched slightly as your cheek lifted higher on that side.

you debated wether or not you should tell michael what you found out a few days ago, settling on telling him. you planned to call him originally, but it was probably better in person. maybe now was a good time to invite him over for “ice cream”.

just as you went to speak, a man showed up behind the two and put his hand on michael’s shoulder.

they looked so alike. too alike.

“your mother and i checked out,” he stated, before looking at you and smiling politely.

“how thoughtful you are,” the man praised, “doing the shopping for your parents.. i wish my son would offer his services every once in a while.”

catching michael’s glare towards his father, you let out a stiff laugh, “oh, yeah. family shop.”

“we’ll leave you to it then,” michael’s father smiled, his eyes closing briefly, “say goodbye to your friend, we’re leaving.”

the little girl awed, another pout sitting on her lip. she waved, “bye-bye!” and wriggled out of michael’s grasp, running after her dad.

“can you come by my house, tonight?” you suddenly requested before michael could say goodbye, “for some.. ice cream.”

the boy thought it was funny how you tried to look nonchalant when you mentioned ice cream: your eyes looking just above, as if they were trying to find your eye brows, and shrugging. like you were the bad cop using code that the good cop didn’t quite catch onto.

he looked back at his father waiting with elizabeth by the door and looked back at you, “er.. yeah, sure! why not?”

you smiled, “great! i’ll see you later.”

michael threw up fingers guns, imitating the sound of a gun cocking and winking, “cya later, alligator!”

you cringed, giggling awkwardly as you watched him walk off. he had a confidence in his walk, a swagger to himself.

looking past his shoulder, you caught his father staring at you. you froze, meeting his gaze for what seemed like minutes. goosebumps rose on your arms as you finally looked away and pushed your cart rather abruptly to a checkout.

flickering your sights to his spot once more while you unloaded everything onto the conveyor belt, he was gone. you felt a sigh of relief leave you, as did the tension in your shoulders.

you noticed that the belt began to move, so you pushed the cart to the end and waited. the cashier chewed her gum noisily, definitely bored. she looked at you, obviously weirded out or surprised by the amounts of ice cream tubs she just checked out.

however, you offered a wobbly smile as you waited patiently for your total. in the end, you ended up using everything you had with the overload on ice cream.

you even stole the cart. but it never occurred to you that you couldn’t do that.

the wheels jiggled and made the cart rattle along the uneven pavement until you got home. it was a bit of a struggle pulling it up the porch. a big bottle of lemonade rolled into the front garden as one of the wheels hitched on the edge of one of the steps.

you sighed after you had managed to get everything into your kitchen. you barely managed to fit everything into the fridge and still had to deal with the shopping cart.

eventually, it made a home in your garden.

due to the ache in your back, you decided to bathe. you turned the hot tap on, sitting on the toilet seat until it was full. you squeezed soap into the tub, watching how bubbled gradually formed until there was a thick layer of them ontop of the water.

you slid in, exhaling as you quickly got accustomed to the setting. your finger lightly played with the foam that covered you chest.

your mustles relaxed while you closed your eyes and sunk just a bit more into the water. you didn’t realise you fell asleep.

michael’s dad gave you the creeps. you’ve seen him before. the time you snuck out, but when he talked to you and michael had that disapproving look in his eyes.. it gave you the heeby jeebies.

and his laugh. he was clearly the charismatic type. however, his smile held something of a snarl inside it. like he’d practiced it over and over again until he perfected it.

it made you shiver into consciousness.

you noticed your fingers has pruned up, which sort of scared you. your father always made you get out before your fingers pruned.

so you got out.

the bath’s drain gurgled as the water was swallowed in huge gulps. you wrapled your towel around you and walked into your room. there wasn’t too much of a point getting into another set of everyday clothes, so you shoved on some pyjamas. a simple top with a garfield print on it and a completely different pair of shorts.

in the middle of drying your hair, the doorbell rang. you knew it was michael, you invited him over. you brought the towel with you as you quickly went downstairs and opened the door.

you smiled shortly as you rubbed at your hair with the fabric. michael smiled back, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“the ice cream is in the fridge,” you directed, heading towards the stairs again, “i’ll be down in a second.”

michael nodded, looking around for the kitchen to get the ice cream you invited him over for.

you plugged in your hairdryer, blowing your hair until it was somewhat dry.

when you went downstairs, michael was eating chocolate ice cream out of the tub and watching 21 jumpstreet on your couch.

“i need to show you something,” you told him as he turned around, “um, follow me.”

michael put the ice cream down on the coffee table and rounded the couch to follow you down the hall and to your dad’s study.

[afticxs]

TWILIGHT GEARS chapter two

one day alone leaves you curious as to what your father does in his study. what you find is life altering. how do you deal? how can he help you?

cw, gore, scars and hyperventilating

the first thing you did in the morning, besides brushing your teeth and changing, was go through your dad’s things. if he really left you to your own devices and decided to start anew, there would be a sign in his room. somewhere, anywhere. hopefully.

the door to your dad’s room creaked as your hand pushed it open. he still hadn’t come back.

you stepped into it, his scent easily slipping into your nostrils. next to you, on his desk, was a picture frame. a simple family photo. you picked it up, your thumbs rubbing up and down the interior corners in a soothing matter.

you appeared to be sitting down, you were, and your dad was stood diagonally behind you with his hands on your shoulders.

you both had modest smiles on your faces to match the respectable clothing you were wearing.

placing the frame down, you turned back around to focus on the task at hand.

you planned to snoop. usually, it would never cross your mind! but he was missing and it was weird. up until yesterday, it had been peaceful for quite a while. your dad had shown no signs of feeling anything negative towards you.

you started with his bed, throwing the bedding off and letting it rest on the floor. you wanted to find anything, something, to confirm if he really planned to leave or not. maybe a letter or an entry. you went as far as to flip the mattress, but there was nothing.

next, you looked underneath the bed. it was just a bunch a single suitcase and a couple shoe boxes. grunting, you shuffled under, wriggling on the slippery floorboards. you pulled out the two boxes and the suitcase and one by one went through them. the shoe boxes happened to just have a bible, old polaroids of your dad when he was younger and ones of you too.

however, they were taken way after your thirteenth birthday. you thought it was a bit weird, but maybe he got rid of hard memories.

the suitcase has absolutely nothing in it. like it was empty. it was just there and judging from the layer of dust, it was there for a while. you breathed out a sigh, shoving everything back under the bed.

a snarl like groan left your mouth as you stood up and turned to the nightstand. your dad was still gone, even though there was no sign of him intending to leave, what if someone took him? or he just covered up his tracks too well.

you roughly pulled the knob to the drawer of your dad’s nightstand, only for small trinkets to be dotted inside. with a huff, you closed it only to hear a hollow rattling. reopening it, you watched as the bottom of the drawer shook.

“huh..” you breathed as you attempted to pick at the sides with your nails. however, they weren’t long enough. your hand then scrambled through your dad’s trinkets until you found a paddle that you could use to scoop it up.

you gasped, dipping your hand inside and pulling out a key that had a white label on it. written on that same label was study. you smiled, tightening your grip on the study key before putting everything back how you found it and rushing out of the room.

jogging down the stairs how you did the day before, you swung around the banister and sped down the hallway, standing outside your dad’s study room.

exhaling audibly, you stuck the key into the hole and twisted it. what made you smile was the satisfactory click! you heard that let you know it was open. not hesitating, you pushed the door open and stepped inside.

it was how you’d expect any study and office to look like: a desk, a book shelf, a rug, a computer, and paper everywhere. it wasn’t neat like his room.

you strolled inside, leaving the key in its place and plopped down into the swivel chair, relaxing into the leather. you looked at the desk from a new angle, there were loads of work documents.

however, you weren’t interested in those. turning your attention to the computer, you tapped the power button on the side to turn it on.

but it wasn’t that easy.

when the lock screen came up, you were asked to put in the password. you had no clue what the password was.

you tried your dad’s name, his birthday, your birthday, your name and even password. but it wasn’t any of them. you sighed and swivelled to face the drawer attached to his desk. you pulled it open, making a noise of awe as you see the folder to a file. your fingers pinched at it until you got a good grip and picked it up.

closing the drawer, you flipped the cover and you gasped. your name was written on a sticky note as was your birthday. but it wasn’t written for the purpose anyone would think it was for. it was written as the date it was made. the year was 1983, the year you couldn’t remember.

you pulled the label off, revealing you. you were oddly peaceful. you were asleep and painfully pale. it seemed that your breath got caught in your throat as you looked through a small fact file.

it had the basics like your age at the time, your weight, your hair and eye colour, et cetera. however, your birthday was unknown. then, your eyes fell onto the section dubbed cause of death.

and what was even worse was that there was something actually written underneath it: fatal stab wound to the heart.

the scar on your chest itched as you read it.

if you were stabbed–through the heart, no less–surely you should be dead.

you then picked at the picture of yourself where you assumed you were sleeping. no, that’s what you looked like dead. your heartbeat quickened as you realised another picture was underneath it.

you slipped it out from underneath and gasped for what seemed like the fiftieth time today. infront of you, in your grasp was a picture of a chest with a carefully incised hole that revealed the heart and part of the ribcage.

the heart, however, had a metal plate in the centre and a blurry, small cog wired into it–implying that it was spinning. the vena cavas also had a metal ring surrounding them. not to mention that there were actual wires protruding from the different blood vessels that connected to the metal.

you felt violently ill, realising this is what you look like on the inside. you were unnatural. a robot, in a way. living off of manmade science.

you slammed the folder shut and shoved it back inside where it came from. your dad, wasn’t your dad.

slowly, tears dribbled down your face as you snivelled. you used your sleeve cuff to swipe at them, but they kept coming.

you weren’t ill, you’re birthday wasn’t your birthday, quinn lawrence wasn’t your dad, your last name wasn’t even lawrence.

where were your actual parents?

you felt so sick.

“what is this? what the hell!” you choked on the spit filling your mouth, you were going to bed sick, “oh my lord..”

you grabbed your hair by the roots and hit your head multiple times as you groaned in distress. trying to hold back your gags was nearly impossible when you were in hysterics by what you just saw.

wrapping an arm around your stomach and using he other as leverage on the desk, you sank down onto your knees and curled over forward. your forehead rested ontop of the rug, seeking comfort from the soft fabric.

you buried your agonizing cries into the floor.

after heaving with every difficulty inhale, you would be an octave off of screaming as you exhaled. your whole body trembled and both your hands came to claw at your chest. it only made you cry more when your nails caught onto the slight bump of the long, vertical scar down your chest and stomach.

you just couldn’t calm down.

as your breathing hesitated, the doorbell rang and after two seconds of silence, it rang again multiple times. you sighed, taking a deep breath in to contain yourself and wiped at your eyes roughly once more before leaving the study room.

you opened the door, peaking your head around it just to be met with the sight of michael.

you let out a long awaited sigh, “hi.”

he waved, a crooked smile on his face, “i, er, came to check on you.. is your dad home yet?”

michael then noticed your distressed look, “i take that as a no then.. can i come inside, please?”

you nodded, beginning to sniffle and as soon as michael shut the door behind you, the dam broke and you burst into tears again.

sympathy etched onto his face, michael couldn’t help but think you cried like a small child, something he noticed yesterday: one hand curled in your neck, the other hanging down and clutching the fabric of your pants and to top it off, there were a lot of tears falling down your face.

you reminded him of someone he knows too well.

the boy looked around the house briefly, catching sight of the living room and guiding you to your couch by your back.

“you wanna talk about it?” he asked while rubbing your back, soothingly. you shook your head, “not.. not right now.”

your body quaked as you sobbed into michael’s shoulder. you pathetically tried to excuse yourself, “i, i don’t know why i’m, god, crying like this..!”

michael didn’t mind it though, “take all the time you need, i’m not going anywhere.”

that was your cue to cry more.

“i miss him so m.. much,” you breathed in tightly, nearly wheezing, “i’ve never been on my hic! own for so long sniff! before and it would’ve been comforting to know where he was going..”

“we’ll find him,” michael assured, pulling back from your side, “in two days? with his car still at the hospital? he couldn’t have gone that far.”

you wiped your face, “yeah, you’re right..” your eyes darted down to his shoulder and you cringed. his leather jacket was shiny with snot and tears, “um.. i’ll get you a tissue!”

michael laughed as he watched you get up and scramble down the hallway to find some tissue.

he went home not long after, leaving you to your thoughts. you should probably tell michael what you found out eventually.

but even you were still trying to process it.

[afticxs]

TWILIGHT GEARS chapter one

you’re left alone when your father disappears before he can make it home. during your distress, you take a walk to the only familiar place and make a new friend along the way.

cw, isolation and dietary restrictions, lowk psychological abuse aswell

light poked in through your bedroom curtains, making you stir from your slumber. a large exhale exhausted from your lungs and you looked around, confused.

usually, your dad woke you up, at the same time, without fail. it was way past two in the afternoon. your dad gets you up at nine fifteen every single day. you looked around, sorting out your bed head as much as you could without your usual components.

stumbling out of bed, you limped out of your bedroom, still dazed with sleep, and padded your way towards your father’s room at the end of the hall.

“dad?” your head peaked in, scanning his perfectly made bed. it was the same as he left it yesterday. you huffed, maybe he was downstairs..

rushing down the hall, passing by doors and lively objects that decorated the otherwise lonely house. your feet thudded on the wooden stairs as you jogged down them, swinging around the banister post as you called out for your dad again.

you turned your head to look over your shoulder, the rest of your body swivelling as you walked into your kitchen. everything remained untouched. muttering to yourself, you picked up the house phone on the counter. he hadn’t left you a voicemail or anything.

you were so confused.

he would’ve let you know if he was staying overtime for the day shift. your frowned, dialling his work phone. you held it up to your ear for about a minute before it went to voicemail.

“hi dad.. um where are you? just wanna make sure you’re okay, call me when you get this. bye, love you.”

you put the phone back down and sighed. i’m reading into it too much.. you thought, sitting down and turning on the tv. you flicked through channels until you came across footloose and put the remote on the coffee table.

bringing your legs up to your chest, you tucked your chin into your knees. you refused to think about your supposedly missing dad. you already thought he was missing, for pete’s sake! he’s still at work, you tell yourself.

you remain on the couch until footloose finishes, finally getting up to be productive. you hadn’t even brushed your teeth today!

you don’t remember a lot. you’ve never been outside the house, as far as you know. well, you have. once. you snuck out after seeing an advert on tv about freddy fazbear’s pizza. you begged your dad to let you go, but he was so persistent about keeping you inside.

he claimed that there were bad people out to get you. also that you had a fragile heart, which is why you can’t remember anything before your thirteenth birthday. that’s what your dad said.

so you snuck out when he was holed up in his study–this was before he worked the day shift. you briefly thought about the hospital staff giving your dad back the night shift, however he would’ve been asleep. in his empty bed.

you stole a few bucks off of the counter and left.

your dad found you shortly after, you didn’t even get to finish your pizza as he dragged you into the car and sped home. you remember his lecture carrying on until you got home.

you can’t leave the house, i instilled these rules to keep you safe, you have everything you need at home, you’re fragile and deathly sick. anything could cause something catastrophic. nobody knows what happened to you. nobody can know your face.

your dad was such a worry wart.

you find leftover lasagne to put in the microwave and watched it spin, boredom finally settling in. you sighed, looking at the clock. it read 04:27.

what the hell. actually, what the hell.

you began to grow nervous. what if he grew tired of you and left? dealing with your poor health must’ve taken a toll on him.

you frowned, suddenly not hungry and walking away towards the stairs. your feet dragged your body up the stairs and you shuffled towards your room.

you were never in your pyjamas for so long, you’re dad said staying in your bed clothes was pure laziness. so you changed.

it was a fairly hot evening, so you pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a basic top. while you were upset that your dad was gone, you could use this as an opportunity to explore.

after slipping your socked feet into your boots and tying them up, you found your dad’s money jar that was left on his desk. you pulled out a couple bucks, maybe ten and went on your merry way.

you liked freddy’s. the pizza was seriously enjoyable. it felt like a luxury, stepping anywhere outside that wasn’t your garden was a luxury.

you pulled open the door to the pizzeria, stepping through and being hit in the face with screaming kids. some ran around, squealing and laughing while three singing animatronics performed for the calmer ones who listened to the music.

weaving between the tables, you nervously shuffled up to the counter. you were taller than you were five years ago which mean you could see over the counter better this time.

“hi,” you smiled at the employee who smiled back, clearly tired of their shift, “hello, what can i get you today?”

like last time, you requested a cheese pizza and were told that if you sat on the spare table, someone would bring out your pizza.

after pulling out the cash you pocketed and paying, you settled in one in the corner as all the window seats being taken up. your fingers drummed unrelentingly, giving you something to do while you bided your time.

the children rushing past your table made you smile. they were so.. happy. they were free to do whatever they wanted without a paranoid parent telling them to stay inside all the time.

then, you sighed. was it bad that you were starting to think that your dad being away was good? just because you have freedom now. he wasn’t a horrible dad, no he was amazing. he just cared. a lot. too much.

the pizza you ordered being delivered to your table was what broke you out of your chain of thought. you thanked the waitress and immediately picked out a slice.

you chewed on the slice, enjoying the mozzarella in your mouth. a satisfied smile settled on your lips as you finished the crust. you got through about three slices and started a fourth before someone slide into the couch infront of you.

you placed down your half eaten pizza slice and looked at the boy who had a smirk on his face. he leant back, getting comfortable and you took the time to look at his nametag.

michael, s-m.

tilting your head, you waited for the employee to speak first.

“hey,” he started, “what’s your name, stranger?”

you look at him weirdly, but answer his question nonetheless, “y/n.”

michael smiled and pointed to his badge, “as you can already see, my name is michael.”

your shoulders jumped momentarily as you breathed in a bit too hard, “what does s-a stand for?”

michael rolled his eyes, “schmidt-afton, i prefer my ma’s name, though. my pa reeks.”

letting your tongue leave the roof of your mouth, you tutted accidentally, “ah.”

“why’re you here by yourself?”

your lips parted to make way for a breath before speaking, “i’m eating..” your eyes drifted back to your pizza slice. michael then scoffed a laugh, “obviously, but by yourself? that’s a whopping two thousand calories you’re consuming, pounds of oil too..”

“yeah,” you shrugged, picking your slice up and biting into your food again. there was silence between the two of you, the awkwardness only michael picked up on. why would you? the only interactions you’ve ever had are with your dad.

with a clearance of his throat, michael decided to start up a conversation again, “i don’t see you in here often.. or at all.”

your brow twitched slightly while you looked at michael through your lashes, “oh, i can’t leave my house.”

michael shuffled in his seat, leaning onto the table, “what, you’re grounded for life or..?” to him, you didn’t look like the type to do something to get you in your parent’s permanent bad book.

finally finishing your slice, you gulped, “no, my dad just doesn’t like it.”

“what, so he’s the freakazoid type?” michael suggested, raising a brow at you. he felt kind of bad. but your face twisted and you raised your voice, “hey! he’s a great dad.”

but if he was so great, why did he leave? he didn’t even say anything to you. if he was so great, he wouldn’t let you cry about him to a random boy as soon as he’s mentioned.

michael gasped, now feeling really bad. you cried, pushing the rest of your pizza slices away from you. your body trembled as you buried your palms in your eyes.

“i, i’m sorry! really, i didn’t mean to make you cry..!” the employee didn’t know what to do with his hands, his arm wavering back and forth while he fought a mental battle to decide wether or not he patted your shoulder.

you shook your head, still crying, “it’s not ya, your fault, it’s just that my, hah, dad just hasn’t come home f-from work yet and i, hic! don’t know where he is..!” you were sobbing so loudly, attracting attention from nearby tables, but you went on, “he hasn’t called or.. or anything, he just up and left! i think he’s tired of looking after me because my health is too high maintenance so he had enough of me and ran off somewhere!”

you sobbed and michael watched as your tears streaked down your arms and left crusted marks. michael’s fingers twisted around your wrists and brought your hands away from your now irritated eyes, “woah, hey don’t cry..”

you looked up at him, your eyes glistening in the pizzeria’s fluorescent light. michael hummed, looking down, “.. say, i’ll help you look for him!”

michael spotted that you visibly lightened up, “you will?”

the boy nodded, “yeah, as soon as my shift finishes in..” michael checks his wrist watch, “twenty minutes.”

you nodded, wiping your eyes with your arm, “thank you, it means a lot.”

the boy tossed you a handkerchief from his pocket as he stood up, “don’t mention it, i’ll see ya in twenty minutes.”

the pizza you ordered had been completely devoured by the time michael’s shift ended. he came over to the table you were at, “y’ready?”

eagerly, you nodded and stood up. your eyes were still slightly red, but for the most part you had completely composed yourself.

the two of you strolled down the streets of downtown hurricane as michael asked you questions, “where was he last at? work?”

you nodded, “yeah, he works at the emergency room.”

“that’s where we start then,” michael smiled at you, “we’ll see if he clocked out, if he has, then he’s probably waiting for you at home right now.”

“right.”

you let michael guide you to the hospital.

you had never seen this part of the city before. but you knew what your dad’s car looked like. it was parked outside the building. surely he’s still in there!

you don’t know the directions at all, but it appears michael does.

he knows those halls like the back of his hands.

you’re lead up to the front desk where a lady is frantically tapping away at her keyboard. michael aggressively clears his throat to gain her attention to which she turns her head, tilts her glasses down her nose, and looks up at the two of you through her lashes.

“can i help you?” she looks both of you up and down, physically, there is nothing wrong with you. that leads her to assume that maybe you’re both signing into the mental health ward.

“sorry, we don’t deal with mental instability..” she goes to turn her head again, smacking her gum. but michael scoffs, tapping the computer harshly, “actually, miss know-it-all, we want to know if..” he trails off, looking at you. you shrug, unsure of what he’s getting at.

michael leans down and whispers in your ear and your lips make a ring. you whisper back.

his arms cross over his chest, “we want to know if quinn lawrence is currently on the clock?”

the receptionist raised her brow before sighing, “give me a second.” there’s aggressive clicking and tapping before she leans in, pushing her glasses back up, towards the screen and leans back again.

with a straight face, she tells the two of you that your father clocked out yesterday and hasn’t signed back in since.

you gave a tight-lipped smile while michael tuts, “thanks fo’ nothin’, pal!”

he storms out of the reception, causing a scene as he grumbles loudly about the service here while you shortly apologise and scurry after him.

you both walk in silence until michael suggests that he walks you home as it was hitting the twilight hour. anything could happen, michael dramatised. you still let him walk you home.

stood outside your house, michael watches as you jog up your porch after he gave you his number, telling you to call if anything happens. he witnesses you turn around and wave and naturally, he returns it before walking off.

once your front door is locked, you kick your boots off and call out for your dad once more. but you’re met with an empty house. you frown once more and sadly drag yourself upstairs and into your bedroom where you can cry to your hearts desire and mourn your missing father.

[afticxs]

TWILIGHT GEARS prologue

the death of a child isn’t an easy burden to bare. he’s never experienced hallucinations before, though. why is she here? haunting him now when it’s been over a year.

cw, child death and violence

“hi.”

an employee behind the counter turned away from their coworked to face the girl by the counter, placing a couple of bucks onto the surface.

“hi sweetie,” she smiled, “what would you like to order?”

the little girl looked at the menu above her head, “can i get one.. cheese pizza? please.”

“yep, there’s a spare table over there, if you sit there, we’ll bring it to you, okay?”

the girl nodded and bounded off to where she was directed, kicking her feet absentmindedly as she waited for her food.

william afton was cooped up in his office, filling out paperwork to license the new animatronics. however, he decided to go for a walk around his restaurant to sort out the cramp in his hips.

though, mr afton found himself shocked. shocked into place as he locked eyes onto a sight he thought he’d never see.

there, by herself on a table by the window was the girl he had murdered a year ago, eating pizza.

his face goes blank for the split second that his mind replays the years earlier events.

small fists pounded onto the heavy door, eager to get away from the rain and to join in with her friends again. the door locked from the inside, leaving her unable to get back in.

but it seemed the music was too joyous and their squeals were too excited.

“guys!” the girl yelled, shivering as she pounded again, “let me in, please, it’s cold!”

footsteps.

they got louder, gaining the girl’s attention. she turned her head, tilting it towards the moving shadow, “hello?”

it stepped into the light of the streetlamp, revealing a man: tall and well put together.

“hello!” she called again, “can you help me?” the man seemed to see her now and smiled, “what are you doing out here? it’s dark and wet, you could catch a cold.”

the girl frowned, “i got locked out..”

“that door locks from the inside,” he held his hand out, “come, we can go the long way.”

she stalled, putting her hands behind her back and swaying, “my mommy told me i shouldn’t go with strangers..” the girl looked up at the man, puffing her cheeks out like she was nervous.

“we aren’t strangers, my dear,” the man chuckled, “i’m the owner of freddy’s!”

the girl’s eyes suddenly lit up with stars, “really?”

he nodded, pulling back his coat to reveal his name tag on the purple shirt he wore. w. afton.

finally grabbing his hand, the girl skipped to his side. but he didn’t move.

“mister?” she tapped his leg, frowning, “can ya take me inside? i’m cold..”

suddenly his grip tightened on her hand and she screamed, he was hurting her.

the streetlamp gave away the glint of whatever was in his spare hand as he lifted it from his side.

“shut up!” he demanded, but she only screamed more, trying to pull away from his grip.

she yanked her arm multiple times, screaming out for help only for the man to push her to the floor and cover her mouth. the girl scratched and bit at his hand and arm, kicking out and pushing against him.

but what can a thirteen year old girl do against a fully grown man?

the girl cried, sobbing into his hand as the knife lifted. her arms went towards the man’s arm, pushing at it as he went to plunge it towards her neck. the man’s face twisted into something more sinsister: he was grinning.

he eased up, lifting his hand. the girl relaxed slightly, panting into his hand before he then mockingly dipped the knife to her neck. she squealed, crying as he began to toy with her.

then, he redirected a blow to her chest. one singular plunge through her heart. he removed his hand, letting her sputter on her own blood.

the man stood up and stepped out of the light, heading to the back of the pizzeria where he had left his office window open.

“hello?” a voice of an employee called out, “is everything good?”

when the employee recieved no answer, he stepped closer where he now caught a glimpse of the girl bleeding out under the streetlamp.

“holy shit!” he ran inside, using the company phone to call emergency services.

there were police surrounding the restaurant, evacuating whoever was inside. an ambulance arrived and though paramedics wished to save the little girl, she was pronounced dead at the scene.

they never found the perpetrator and therefore closed the case after four months.

william afton finds his consciousness has taken him back to reality just as she turned around coincidentally, taking a bite out of her pizza slice. the pair locked eyes, the man’s portraying distress and her’s expressing nothing but nonchalance.

the man retreated back into his office just as a man burst in, looking for the same girl.

william afton was dead set on finding out just how she was alive.

[afticxs]

TWILIGHT GEARS

michael afton x female reader

chapters. prologue, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, tbc

synopsis. after a particular turn of events, a desperate father does anything to save his daughter’s life. when her assaultant realises something is not normal about her, he does whatever he can do to find out what it is that enables her to live, ready to sacrifice anything to find out the science behind it.

warnings/tags. post bite of ‘83, william is a semi decent father? he doesn’t kill children, he tried to tho lolll, lowkey neglects his kids tho, crying child is alive, veryyy looooosely based off of cogheart, the aftons are schmidts aswell, my fic my rules, mrs afton is called clara, reader replaces charlie? william kills her instead, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

spotify. playlist

[afticxs]

DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES epilogue

a girl wiped her hands down her checkered uniform’s apron after dealing with particularly greasy food. it was coming up to half eleven, bestowed on the digital clock behind the counter.

the door bell chimed, alerting her that people had entered but even without that bell, their chatter would alert her anyway.

the girl eyed the group of boys briefly before beginning to brew coffee. she were unaware of the customer waiting at the bar. she hummed to occupy the remaining fifteen minutes of her shift. the only thing breaking the girl out of her trance was the double tap on the bell at the counter.

she jerked slightly, but turned around and flashed the boy a kind, yet tired, smile, “hi, what can i get’cha?”

the boy returned it, requesting four strawberry milkshakes and a plate of messy fries to share. the girl noted it down. shoving her pen and pocketing it, she ripped off the note and stuck it to the kitchen window while telling her coworker that there was a last minute order in the softest and sweetest voice he had ever heard.

she turned around again, now examining the boy in full detail. he had nicely tanned skin and moles sitting by his left eye, chin and lips. his hair was in a rather messy mullet but she thought it suited him.

the boy caught her staring and furrowed his brows, now staring back. she was.. familiar.

“hey, i don’t mean to sound weird,” he started off, gaining her attention, “but have we.. have we met before?”

the girl flushed, “i was thinking the same thing.. maybe we’ve seen each other around?”

“perhaps,” the boy smiled and she all but felt inclined to smile back, his aura somewhat blending with her own.

they remained in their spots, admiring each other and cheesing in the other’s face. what made them both look away was the boy’s friends calling over to him, “yo mike! what’s takin’ so long to order?”

‘mike’ apologised for his friend’s demanding attitude, a smile displaying his teeth lining on his lips. the girl shook her head, giggling and also showing her teeth, “no worries, you should probably sit with them though..” her eyes drifted to the table and back to mike.

“probably..” his eyes followed, pulling themselves back to yours to ask a desired question, “what’s your name?”

“it’s y/n,” she smiled at mike who grinned back, “pretty name for a pretty girl.”

she flushed, watching as mike walked back to his friends, leaving her to disappear into the kitchen until their food was ready to be delivered.

the last minutes of the girl’s shift whizzed past, full of stolen glances between her and mike. to when she gave the table their food, to when they left in time to leave her five minutes to clean up their table.

underneath the milkshake glass, a piece of paper was attached. y/n picked it up, pocketing it after reading the contents. mike had left his number along with a ten dollar tip.

gods, why was he so familiar?

[afticxs]

DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES chapter 6

to my dearest y/n,

i can’t say i was as safe as i promised you that i would be. it seems i’m breaking a lot of my promises recently, i’m sorry.

i was shot upon the safety of my ship, i woke up the day i wrote you this letter in the middle of the atlantic. there’s a lot i want to tell you.

i don’t think i would’ve minded in the slightest staying with you in that lagoon forever. you made my voyage interesting, to say the least. i never would’ve imagined myself having feelings for a supposed myth. it’s funny. you tried to eat me when we first met.

i hope that if there is another us somewhere, they’re not forced to be apart from each other; how we are. and maybe in another life, where it is us and not someone else with our story, we’re both human where it is easy for us to be together.

or we’re both sirens lurking around until we find our next meal. i don’t mind, i’m not fussy.

gods, i knew you for a month and a bit. curse your charm for seducing me and bless your soul for enchanting me. i love you. i probably should’ve told you that when i first kissed you. but i never did. i regret it.

i’d like to say that if the sea wars end before i die of old age, come visit me in hastings. i’m sure i’d recognise your conch shell anywhere, you don’t find them on the coasts where i reside. but i can’t. i have this aching, scary feeling i will die on this boat and that i won’t see you again. the fever i have is no jest. but i’ve sort of come to terms with it.

when you first showed me your lagoon, i spotted this comb and i figured you would like it. however i forgot to give it to you. i’m sorry again. i love you.

with all my love,

your mikey.

you looked through the letter, perched on the rock back in your’s and michael’s lagoon.

truth be told, you had followed the ship for those two days. from the moment you witnessed the ship leave to the second you received the message in a bottle. attached to it by the braid he kept in his hair, was the comb he had mentioned in the letter. you opened it, scanning it briefly before your heart ached in pain.

when you finally arrived home, however it felt empty, you finally read it. taking in his words and feeling every emotion through all of it.

and you cried.

you cried so hard you truly believed you would die of heart ache.

the comb never left your hair, neither did his strands of hair that you had managed to braid into your own.

you fiddled with your braid—it fell over your face like michael’s did to him—most of the time. while the comb remained as a place holder for the new bun in your hair.

you missed michael immensely as much as you loved him unconditionally.

you would continue to haunt port royal until you were lost to the debris due to the earthquake im 1692.

[afticxs]

DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES chapter 5

a shrill cry rang out after a gunshot rounded the streets.

“ah! oh my..” michael groaned, collapsing infront of the governor’s mansion. his bandana was rapped tightly on his head, his singular braid being the only part of his hair to overlap it. it dangled infront of his left eye as he looked up at the approaching guards.

he curled in on himself, his forehead resting on his knees, “god, help me, please! ugh..”

michael pawed at his gunshot wound, moaning in pain as two guards crouched down to observe him. he wailed in pain, clutching his side as he trembled in the arms of the guards. he listened to one of them tell the other to alert the governor and on good timing, michael heard the native call that was assigned as the signal.

wow, he was convincing.

immediately, he jerked up, shooting the one closest to him through the chin and the other through the chest. michael buzzed, trembling with adrenaline as he jogged through the gate to witness most of his father’s men taking out the security on the inside. he knew that a group of them were infiltrating the house and another were hijacking carriages to make their getaway to the ship. five in each.

michael was quick to join in on the gun fight, shooting irregularly at guards who escaped over the walls and any one who threatened him. he fought his way into the building, trying to locate his father inside the manor.

he snuck inside after shooting at a guard who he came face to face with after opening the door.

gods, how many men did this guy need? michael tutted, shifting past the body in the doorway and cocking his gun to reload it as he creeped up the stairwell. he could hear the voices of henry and his father somewhere to the left, so he followed them.

michael was careful to open doors, stopping when they creaked. a lot of the doors led to extra hallways. but also what did he expect? rich people love hallways. one particular door had a mirror on the back. michael nudged it open to peek his head in. it was an en suite that led to a bedroom. that door was already opened. he opened it some more, only to notice an unfamiliar man with a gun heading to a seperate room.

eyes darkening, michael followed. he crouched down, easing up on his weight in hopes to not affect any floorboards.

he concluded that this was the governor.

his father’s voice got louder, so michael was right to assume he was in the next room over.

william and henry laughed in triumph, finding a large safe, heavy and rattling with gold, inside the governor’s allocated safe room. ironically. they looked at each other, one arm around the other’s shoulder as they shortly celebrated their victory.

“we’ll be filthy rich after this, henry!” the man slapped his hand on top of the box, “dynamite?”

henry dug into the inside jacket of his vest, pulling out two sticks of the explosive material that was requested of him. he handed them to william as he held his hand out for them.

after attaching it to the lock, william requested matches. henry dug in a different pocket this time, his hand slipping into his outside pocket.

within this time, the governor made himself known.

“you won’t be needing those matches,” he stated calmly, pointing a pistol at william’s head. the man admitted he had alerted the authorities and that his men had probably already rounded up theirs.

the governor then seethed, “as much as i’d enjoy to see you hanging, i’d rather finish you off myself..” his gun clicked and another went off.

the two men jumped, nudging closer to each other in minor fright. the governor flopped down, a pool of blood surrounding his head supplied by a bullethole in the back of his head. henry and william looked up, eyes wide as they spotted michael straightening his posture with his own pistol lowered, however smoking.

“are you okay?” michael asked, frantically searching over the faces of the older men. william chuckled, bringing michael in for a short embrace, “good work, son.”

henry struck his match, lighting up the fuse of the dynamite. they all stepped out of the room until the explosion sounded, the door practically dissipated.

inside, riches glinted. the three let out a gasp before tipping the contents into three seperate bags made of raggedy cloth. the second signal sounded as they made it to the stairwell, meaning the carriages were here.

hurriedly, the trio bundled down the stairs and ran through the courtyard past all the dead bodies behind their crew members. michael had barely shut the carriage door before the designated driver was rushing off towards the docks.

the ride was quick, full of triumph and going past him like a sugar rush. michael doesn’t remember leaving the carriage or boarding the ship. he doesn’t remember entering with his left foot first instead of his right.

as the ship is unanchored, michael does remember looking at the row of rocks in search for even a peak at the top of your head. but he doesn’t see you. he frowns, not realising he is dragged into a circle with his crew members.

“to no casualties!” william yelled, raising the morale of his crew. they all shouted back, raising their gun’s and swords as the ship had began to drift. he grabbed michael’s arm, lifting it as he praised him, “and to my son, for saving mine and emily’s lives!”

michael smiled, lifting his head up as his peers and elders alike praised him and patted his back. he hangs about on the side, hoping he might see you while the others fill mugs with celebratory beer. but unfortunately, you aren’t there.

michael remembers the comb that still remained in his bag. he forgot to give it to you. and he frowns. he thinks about throwing it into the ocean and his hand dips into his satchel. but before he can, william grabs his shoulder to earn his attention. he smiles again, engaging in conversation just as they leave the docks fully, en route to america.

but just as he speaks a shrill bang echoes in the cove and shrapnel audibly pierced layers of skin.

michael makes a sound like he’s just choked on his spit. he gasps and he sputters and he coughs before clutching at the bullet wound that has made room inside his abdomen.

so he drops.

michael can’t even find it in him to scream in pain. the agony is there but he believes it’s the shock that renders him unresponsive even as he’s conscious.

frantic shouts are heard on the boat, followed by the same gun sound. they’re firing rifles above him and it makes his ears ring and his head spin.

michael let’s his head flop to the side, only for his father to redirect it. his eyes follow up to his face, seeing the panic settle into his features. but he can’t speak. something trickles out of his mouth and suddenly he can taste iron and rust.

he realises he was shot.

michael can still hear shouting. he’s being picked up and rushed below deck into a cabin room. he huffs and puffs but he can’t speak.

he remembers the comb again.

“i..” he tries but his voice dies in his throat. i didn’t give her the comb..

michael is somewhere barely comfortable when he finally passes out.

he wakes up after two days, a wet towel on his forehead and a sharp pain in his stomach. he blinks once, twice, thrice before he attempts to sit up but whoever is watching him puts his hand on michael’s chest and leaves the room.

probably to alert the captain..

definitely to alert the captain.

the door bursts open and afton comes marching in, sitting on the stool next to the bed he’s on. it isn’t truly his bed, is it?

“how are you feeling?” his father asks, removing the towel and palming his son’s head. now that he asked, it was pounding. it felt like it would implode on him any minute now.

“…hurts,” michael rasps out while his father picks up the cup he collected on the way to the cabin room. his rough hand gently coerces michael’s head up so he can drink what is tilted up to his lips.

afton is visibly stressed: his eyebags are dark and his worry lines are evident in between his eyebrows.

“how long.. was i, was i out for?” michael stuttered, laying back down. he learns that it’s been two days. he also learns that they’re heading back home instead of north america unlike what was planned.

michael thinks of you.

he misses you. he frowns briefly before asking for paper, to wish upon the sea.

afton nods, traipsing to the end of the room to search through the desk. he pulls out michael’s desired paper and retrieves it, along with a quill, ink and a bottle.

michael’s father kisses his hair promptly before he leaves.

he sets himself up on the bedside table with maximal struggle. michael groans in pain as he rolls onto his side and begins to write.

he has to tell you everything he didn’t say, even though there’s a doubt in his mind that you will see it.

[afticxs]

DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES chapter 4

“are you not cold?”

you opened one eye as you backstroked around the lagoon you had showed michael a month prior, “no, why would i be?”

you giggled as you watched your friend shiver underneath his jackets. michael hugged himself over his legs, huffing out a seeing his breath rise infront of him.

he eyes your form, how gracefully your body arched and rolled with every clockwise roll of your arms. his cheeks and nose were pink due to frostbite’s kiss.

“you know..” he fumbled, eyes darting quickly to your chest and back up to your face as you climbed up onto the singular boulder in the centre of the lagoon.

“i’m afraid i’m not catching on..” you pouted, but you were. you just loved to tease.

“weh.. well, your um.. chest,” he spoke rather quietly as he uttered the last word. you chuckled, “i can’t hear you, speak up!”

“shit.. your chest!” michael exclaimed, a new shade of red blooming over his face. you shook your head, “well, no they aren’t cold.. why?”

he watched how your eyes glinted with mischief, “they aren’t exactly, hm, covered..”

you bent down, plucking seaweed off of the base of the rock, “would you prefer that i cover them?” michael eyed your form in shock as you leant back onto one hand, your hair falling behind you to reveal your breasts on full display. with your free hand, you dragged the seaweed across your chest, letting it drapse across your nipples.

with a scoff, michael turned away, “do whatever you want, i don’t care!”

you laughed loudly, your eyes creasing in the corners as you tossed your head back, “mikey, you’re too cute!”

he grumbled quietly, refusing to acknowledge you for a while as you got back into the water doing god knows what.

it was silent.

you left michael alone to deal with his thoughts on the sand, shivering inside weak layers. michael hadn’t told you that he had been invited to go on a mission, finally, and even took up the offer.

what would you think? you’d definitely get mad. he said he wouldn’t leave. he wouldn’t be coming back. michael actually let himself get attached to such an entity when he knew at one point, he would leave. he has to.

“michael, look what i found!”

you popped up, holding a shell up high into the air. it was big and colourful. you placed your mouth on it and blew, the sound of a horn echoing against every surface.

“it’s a conch shell!” you explained excitedly, “i haven’t touched one of these in ages..” you were giddy as you repeatedly blew into it until you were huffing.

michael chuckled as you came closer, “here, you try!” you tossed it to the end of michael’s feet and he shivered when he tried to move. gods, it was so cold.

with trembling hands, michael picked up the shell and blew into it. he could hear the conch shell’s horn in his head.

“you know, if you put your ear against it,” you spoke up, “they say you can hear the ocean.”

doing just that, michael gasped. he could hear the inside imitating waves. he scoffed, “well, whadd’ya know! it does..”

michael stared at it, while you stared at him.

it was silent, comfortably so. michael was debating on telling you that he would be leaving to america. his eyebrows furrowed in thought, which you picked up on.

“are you okay?” you asked, concerned about his train of thought.

“yeah! i was just thinking.”

“about what?”

michael sighed, explaining that he’d be going on a mission tomorrow and he wasn’t going to come back. he recounts the day’s earlier events where his father and his first mate explained the contents of the expedition. he would act as the decoy to draw the guards out to his defence, then the plan would then continue as its supposed to. the crew split in half and scour the east and west walls of the governor’s manor to infiltrate on the inside.

“what.”

it wasn’t a question, nor demand. it wasn’t a anything but an abbreviation of your sadness.

“i know! i’m sorry, y/n, i am,” michael frowned, placing the conch down. you looked more sad than angry.

“but you said you wouldn’t leave again!” your eyebrows tilted upwards and your eyes visibly watered, “you promised me, michael..”

his heart ached. immensely. sadness didn’t suit you. you were too perfect to be sad over his absence. but he was breaking his promise to you and he couldn’t be more sorry.

“i have to.. my father’s relying on me,” michael frowned, standing up and slowly waddling up to the waterline.

“you don’t have to! we can go somewhere where it’s just us,” you frowned but there was no convincing him.

that was what upset you enough to be angry at him.

“if you leave.. i’ll eat you..” you huffed, quietly and regretting your words almost immediately. michael looked scared. of you.

but you were so angry.

you weren’t allergic to sand. you could breathe air. in here, michael was not safe from you. but you wouldn’t harm him. you could be good if he just behaved.

due to close proximity, it was easy to reach out for him.

your hand gripped his ankle and pulled. he yelled as he tried to shake you off him, but your other hand reached up and pushed his thigh to make him fall backwards.

“why would you make a promise you knew you couldn’t keep?” you yelled in his face after crawling up his body. his heart was beating so fast and you could feel it.

“y/n, i’m sorry..” he whispered, barely able to speak out of fear. he squeezed his eyes shut, stretching his neck to get away from your mouth incase you went for his face first.

like a switch, your flared nostrils turned into a trembling lip. michael jerked when a drop hit his cheek, sliding down his jaw. then multiple.

the hands on his shoulders weakened as you sniffled ending with a chuckle, “i don’t usually get attached like this..”

michael smiled, “i can tell.”

he raised an arm, wiping away stray tears from your face. finally allowing his neck to relax, michael let his head rest in the sand, “you’re too pretty to cry..”

you smiled at him, moving your hair to cover your face out of shyness, “you think so?”

“i know so,” michael stated bluntly, cradling the back of your head. your hair created a curtain around both your heads as you removed your hand from your face.

it felt like it was just the two of you. it was. but it felt like it was only the two of you in all of port royal.

and when your lips finally met, it felt like you two were the ones in the whole world. the kiss wasn’t lustful, yet it was full of passion. a goodbye kiss, if you will.

this was your last night together.

michael walked back to the inn later that night, a giddy feeling had bloomed and he entered with the dopiest smile ever. his father even noticed how smiley he was, rubbing his shoulder soothingly to break him out of whatever trance he was in.

when asked about it during dinner, michael passed it off as he had a drink or two with a friend but then someone spoke up, he learned their name to be frederick at some point, noticed the sand in his hair and laughed, “he got laid!”

the rest of them made loud noises of approval, the uproar attracting attention. a fervent blush broke out on his face and michael avoided eye contact with everyone, only laughing when william drunkenly yelled, that’s my boy!

gods, he missed you already.

[afticxs]

DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES chapter 3

michael was seething.

despite the so far sunny weather, this week had been shambolic. his father had told him that it wasn’t wise to spend as much time by the sea that he knew michael had and on top of that a fell crewmate was missing. jeremy.

aside from his father and henry, jeremy was probably the only other person michael had interacted with this whole trip. for the last seven days, he stayed inside the inn with his father playing chess or card games. michael took it as an opportunity to form a bond with his father’s men and while they were great company, he did find himself missing you in the middle of the week.

between the evening hours, a search party of about five led by william afton personally would patrol the coast and streets. every time it was no luck. michael could see how valued each and every man was and it warmed his heart.

come the end of the week, the crew had a forum over dinner. it took michael’s father to bang his fist on the table to gain everyone’s attention.

“it’s been a week,” he began, raising a hand to his chin and stroking it in thought, “a whole week and jeremy has just vanished? no ships have left port royal since we last saw him.”

vanished? michael was silent with a racing mind. if he was still here, he wouldn’t of abandoned them and its clear he hasn’t taken a ship so how has he just fallen off the face of the earth?

then he thought back to your last meeting the day jeremy didn’t come back to the inn. how weird it was that you left so abruptly and your odd displays of sudden aggression.

as long as you’re on the sand, you’re safe you had said as you stalked up to him like a predator finally cornering its prey. michael’s eyes widened as he realised.

you were hungry. you had been so hungry and if michael played too smart about his life, you would have to find someone else to satuate yourself.

when you left so desperately you smelt something, someone.

how did he miss this?

michael finally tuned in on the conversation, though it was to excuse himself from the table. he feined sickness, though he did feel ill from thinking about you eating jeremy.

dragging him down, laughing as he suffocated and finally ripping through his flesh. michael grimaced as he made it up the stairs and rushed into his room.

he opened up his journal that he had left out on the bedside table a couple nights ago, flicking to the page he made on sirens. though there was a sketch of a siren, you specifically, there was a few lines based on michael’s observational skills.

he skimmed through the little information he had: they feed off of men, lustful creatures, half human half fish, their eyes shine in the moonlight. michael dipped his quill into the potted ink before jotting down another fact.

they can sense prey as soon as he’s in their territory.

he must’ve been looking for michael that day to be so far into your home.

dragging both hands down his face, michael groaned, “shit, this is my fault..”

he waited for the ink to dry, the book face up while he remained hunched over with guily. it was then that michael realised the rain was beating loudly against the window of his rented room. occasionally, lightning struck and the sky rumbled with anger.

michael needed to find you.

finally closing his journal, the boy left the room and jogged down the steps to alert his father that he was taking a breather outside.

“you’ll be safe out there, won’t ya, lad?” william had asked, but it sounded more like a demand. michael nodded, “yeah, i’ll just be where i usually am.”

michael’s father had briefly told him that the daily search party had left so if he finds something, say something.

“oh and just before you go,” his father began, “comsidering that jeremy is, as far as we’re aware, missing, we need someone to act in our plan..”

michael smiled, revealing his teeth, “yeah?”

“and i was thinking that you have to start somewhere, i don’t plan on this being your only time with us.”

“you want me to join?” michael asked, hopefully to which william nodded, “exactly that! as a decoy.”

what.

a decoy?

michael sighed but nonetheless, he was glad to be involved.

“thanks, old man.”

and before he left, he was met with a final, “be careful outside!”

as soon as he left, the heavy rain was beating down on him. it soaked his clothes down to his skin, staining his dark red shirt into a maroon with every step down the bay.

once he got down to the rocks, michael began to call out your name. with slow, cautioned steps, michael’s hands went up to his mouth to make his voice louder. he was nervous. the waves were aggressive, banging the sides of the rocks and just waiting to swipe at his ankles.

and for once, he was scared of the water.

“y/n!” michael’s yells grew more frantic with fear and frustration, “y/n come out!”

he was stood at the end of the row, meeting the horizon line as his heard turned in all directions: looking for you. michael could only keep up on the rock for so long before the grip of his boots gave up on him and he became victim to the waves.

“michael.”

a single voice. yours.

his head whipped forward, seeing your head only. both of you had angry expressions on your faces, for different reasons.

“y/n.”

“where were you?” you frowned, eyebrows furrowing. michael scoffed, eyeing you through narrowed vision—due to the rain and his frustrations with you.

“where was i? how about what were you doing while i was away?!” he accused which made you gasp, “what are you talking about? i’ve been waiting for you almost everyday! i show you something nice and you leave me?”

“you’re so self centred!” michael exclaimed, “how do you know i didnt have anything to do, huh? but i know exactly what you were doing while i was away: eating my friend!”

you were confused, “what are you talking about?” an uncertain smile settled on your face, your brows creasing.

“hu.. wai.. have you eaten this week?” michael stumbled, asking you a question to which you shyly nodded, “why wouldn’t i?”

“who was it?” he asked again, now interrogating you.

“i don’t know, i don’t bond with my meals,” you shrugged spitefully, your tone filled with malice. michael groaned dramatically, “okay, okay what did he look like?”

“i don’t remember,” you tilted your head, however you did but you were petty and upset.

“stop playing games, y/n!” michael shouted, growing increasingly angry, “did you or did you not eat jeremy?”

he watched as your demeanour went from clueless to angry in seconds, “yes i did! he said he was looking for you, so i told him i knew and i coerced him into the water and now his bones are rotting in the sand with the others before him..”

then, you pouted, looking at michael with large, sulking eyes that even his eyebrows twitched in reaction, “but i was so, so hungry, mike.. and he was there.. and then you were gone for a week and i thought you left me because i was a monster!”

thunder rolled in again and soon after, in the distance, lightning struck behind your head.

“i.. i didn’t leave, i thought about you all week..!” michael sighed, “my father wanted some time with me, i am his son.”

you felt your chest deflate with relief. michael hadn’t forgotten about you, he still wanted to see you, you were on his mind.

for a second, you thought you lost your touch.

“okay.. just please don’t leave like that again,” you frowned with your usual pout. michael nodded, “no, yeah i won’t.”

“you mean it? promise me?” you swam closer, placing your hands by his feet. michael nodded, “i promise.”

wasting no time, michael asked if you had anything of jeremy’s to which you nodded, “his hat. it’s attached to an anchor at the bottom.”

your head disappeared for not even a minute before your shooting up again, with his hat and bandana, “sorry about your friend..”

michael frowned, retrieving both items as they bobbed against the rock, “it’s.. not fine but what can i do? what can you do? you have to eat at some point.. thank you though.”

“it’s not a problem,” you smiled weakly, watching as michael slowly turned around to leave. you didn’t bother asking if he’d be back tomorrow.

you know he will be, even if it isn’t tomorrow.

michael returned, eyes hanging low and clutching jeremy’s hat and bandana. the search party had long since returned empty handed. he felt guilty, knowing what really happened to him. as he walked up to the table the crew were drinking around, he spotted jeremy’s initials embroidered into the bandana fabric.

he cleared his throat, getting the attention he needed, “i, um.. i found jeremy’s things.. he uh, he drowned.”

michael’s voice cracked, his throat suddenly swollen. murmuring erupted, the faces of his fellow crewmates twisting into grief.

william raised his glass, “a toast to jeremy fitzgerald, a trusted friend and a loyal crewmate, as trustworthy as he was reliable!”

“ay!”

michael found himself joining in with the crew, drinking away his sorrows to commemorate an old friend.

the hangover he’d have tomorrow was a future michael problem.

[afticxs]

DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES chapter 2

the two men stumbled into their room, their laughter continuing from earlier’s events.

william had decided to wake michael up and challenge him to a duel aboard his ship. at first, michael complained about it being too early but in the end it turned out to be fun.

he learned about posture and technique. he also learned that his father was getting old and used it to his advantage.

then, they ate in one of the taverns deeper in the town for lunch and laughed about old memories which they continued to now.

“ah, you’re getting too old son,” william sighed, patting michael’s shoulder to which he laughed and pushed him away, “shut up, old man. i still have places to see and things to do!”

the two chuckled before henry knocked on the door to let william know that something had been faulty with their planning. henry apologised and left profusely, but william still had to leave.

he apologised to michael, ruffling his hair momentarily before leaving the room. with a sigh, michael slumped onto his bed. he looked over at his satchel and thought about writing to you. if he put it in a bottle and let it drift, would you recieve it? it was worth a try.

michael swiftly searched through the satchel, pulling out last night’s stationary and writing a quick note on a ripped piece of paper: hopefully you get this, but i’m here. a bit early i know.

he then pulled out a glass bottle from his satchel that he had collected previously like his father suggested he do, saying he could wish upon the sea. michael tucked it away, screwing on the cork. before he left his room, michael shoved it in his bag and let the strap go over his head.

it was the same route as always, the stairway, the bar, the door, and down the coastline. michael squatted down and watched as his discarded message in a bottle drifted with the tide. he remained there for not a very long time, barely a minute before the bottle abruptly disappeared into the water and in its place your head appeared.

“i think early is an understatement,” you smiled as you swam closer to michael’s rock. he shrugged, “i wasn’t busy.”

“how do you know i wasn’t?” you teased and michael frowned, “were you?”

nonetheless, you shook your head, “i was biding my time.”

“what do you call biding your time? swimming upside down?” michael taunted with a snort and u splashed him.

“no, i was exploring,” you trailed off, looking in the distance, “if you follow the sand, theres a cave. it has a different opening for you and me.”

michael watched as you disappeared underwater, but your tail gave you away. he walked back on the rocks, following the trail of sand. michael didn’t fail to keep an eye on you, your tail occasionally flicking up to direct his eyes. you were showing it to him after all.

eventually, he came across an opening and slipped through it being met with sand into waves. michael watched as you perched ontop of a rock, freely able to display yourself as nobody was at risk of seeing you.

“its a nice spot, don’cha think?” you put your arm up and tilted your body like you were posing. michael nodded, it’s really nice. too nice, “this where you sleep?”

you shook your head, “no, i prefer it outside. caves aren’t my ideal sleep spot.”

with a dramatic sigh, you flopped backwards into the natural pool. water exploded around you, hitting the surface like rain. your head appeared closer this time and michael couldn’t help but get nervous with how you stalked up to him, “you arent gonna eat me, right?”

with a chuckle, exposing your teeth, you shrugged, “as long as you’re on the sand you’re safe.”

“that’s not exactly reassuring..” michael sweatdropped, crossing his legs and drawing shapes in the sand.

“it wasn’t meant to be,” you hummed, swishing your tail towards michael and flicking water at him. he looked at you in irritation, “stop.”

you giggled and did it again, this time michael sat up straight, “stop that!” it continue with michael sputtering at you to stop until he was cold. he shivered, digging at the sand in a cusp and throwing it at you. it was an easy dodge, you sunk below you and watched as the grains sunk lower than you could.

while you were underneath the water, michael spotted a pearly object glinting in the sun that was exposed in the opening in the top of the cave. he picked at it until the heavy sands budged and saved way through the gaps of the object to reveal an peculiar looking comb. it was decorated in pearls and shells. promptly, michael pocketed it in his satchel just as you rose. he looked at you before u spit wster out at him like a fountain. with a yell, michael shuffled back before he could get sprayed again.

“gods, you are persistent..” he muttered, side eyeing you in annoyance while you giggled, “i can’t go back soaking wet again.”

“just sunbathe,” you advised, “the sun’s directly on you.”

michael was already laying back, resting his arm over his eyes. a small vibration went through the waters, affecting you gravely.

“i have to cut our visit short, mikey,” you pouted, “i’m sorry, there’s just something wrong.”

michael shrugged, sitting up on his elbows and squinting at you, “alright then, cya.”

you dipped down below, swimming off to where michael could not see you.

where were you off to in such a hurry? gods, you were an interesting myth.