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cloudwhisper23 · 4 months

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Guess who did another art trade with @pixlokita? This one's about their Werebunny AU! Hope y'all enjoy!

Warning: 11k words

Jeremy cursed as he dropped the screwdriver. “I swear, you’re going to be the death of me, buddy.”

He put pressure on the gushing stream of blood coming from his thumb muttering to himself about how dumb he was. Mangle’s ear flopped as they tilted their two heads in confusion.

“I’m okay, bud.” Jeremy tried to flash a smile, but the blood leaking down his wrist was too distracting. “Okay, I need to find a sink or something.”

Standing up made Jeremy dizzy, but he managed to get to a wall and lean against it as he made his way to the kitchen. “I could get fired for this, you know,” he remarked to the animatronic clinging to the ceiling above him as he walked. “We’re not supposed to tamper with the animatronics at all, and clearly, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The beeping and static overhead did not give any indication that they felt anything in regard to his response.

Jeremy stumbled. “Whoa, I think I need to sit down for a second…” He slid down the wall as black spots danced across his vision.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before a heavy weight dropped into his lap and cold plastic pressed against the side of his face. “Augh! I’m okay, Mango! I’m fine!” Jeremy batted at the white plastic with both hands, smearing blood across their face.

“I, uh. I need to get up, bud.”

The mangled (and now bloody) fox animatronic tilted their two heads yet again, seeming to be unable to understand what Jeremy wanted.

“Can you…?” Jeremy tried to shift his weight beneath the pile of metal in his lap.

Mangle’s ears lifted, and they crept onto the floor, offering a paw to help Jeremy get up.

“Um, thanks buddy.” Jeremy still wasn’t sure why the animatronic was so fond of him, but he’d found himself returning the favor whenever possible. The company had long given up on repairing Mangle, but Jeremy wanted to help them look nice. Just like Ramona and Becky for me, he thought to himself.

Shaking away the fondness from the memory, Jeremy let his weight shift onto the animatronic. Static buzzed loudly out of Mangle’s voicebox, but they hardly bent under his weight. Jeremy decided that washing out the wound could wait until he was home. For now, he needed to clean up the mess he’d made in the pizzeria.

The wrapped bandage itched. Jeremy had wrapped a ton of gauze around his hand and refused to explain to anybody what had happened. At least, not in any detail.

Ramona had glanced at it with suspicion the last time they talked, but she never liked to pry. She told him that if he changed his bandage at her apartment, he wasn’t allowed to get blood everywhere. “It will stain the countertops,” Ramona said matter-of-factly.

So Jeremy had gotten away with no one saying anything. But the longer he left it, the more it itched and burned. He flicked through the cameras without really thinking about it, hardly remembering to wind the music box on time.

His hand burned, and when Jeremy got home from his shift, he ripped it free and turned the spigot on, running cold water over his scabby and swollen skin. Jeremy knew he probably should’ve gone to an actual doctor about his injury, but he figured that stitches couldn’t be too hard, and it seemed like the skin itself was healing fine.

Maybe he got an infection from the cut though. Jeremy wasn’t very good at remembering the medical advice Becky gave him, much less how to clean a cut properly. But the skin itself looked fine. There was something shimmery beneath it, which Jeremy could almost ignore if it didn’t make his skin burn so badly.

Jeremy’s dog whined at his feet, impatient for his morning meal. “Just a minute, Percy.” Jeremy tore the thread out of his injury, glad that the skin had started to seal itself back together.

He carefully rewrapped the injury, glad that the itching had gone away a little bit, at least. Jeremy kicked his shoes off and loosened his tie as he went over to fill Percy’s food bowl and check on the water level. “Doing good there, bud? I need a nap first, but I’ll walk you in a bit.”

Jeremy yawned, scratching at his head to loosen the pressure after he removed his ponytail. “Just… one… a quick nap…”

He stumbled forward, faceplanting into the floor as consciousness slipped away. Percy whined, nudging at his face and licking it as his spine started to bend and elongate, fur sprouting from his hands and curled claws burst from his fingertips.

Percy growled at the intrusion of the new characteristics, but he stuck by Jeremy’s side as his eyes rolled back and his ears melded back into the sides of his head to make room for longer, fluffier ears more equipped for a rabbit. And that was what Jeremy’s body was shifting into. He was growing larger, his clothes no longer enough to hold the mass of his entire body.

Jeremy’s claws lashed out at Percy, tearing the fur and skin of his dog. Percy whimpered, backing away to get out of his space as his nose wrinkled and twitched rapidly, taking in the surroundings in a new way. His ears folded back as a deeper growl vibrated in his throat.

Percy scurried away, not quickly enough as Jeremy bounded forward and sank his teeth into the poor dog’s back. Percy barked, a frightened noise as he tried to squirm free from Jeremy’s mouth. Jeremy gnawed for a few moments before releasing the dog, blood dripping down his fur.

Percy escaped and rushed into Jeremy’s bedroom, hiding under his owner’s blankets as he trembled.

Jeremy’s nose twitched again, nosing against his front door. Offended by the obstacle in his way, Jeremy’s claws dug deep into the hardwood, scratching a jagged hole in the floor and part of the door.

When Jeremy finally came to, his clothes were tattered and hanging off his body, and his mouth was full of blood. Dazed, he got to his feet and immediately winced as splinters dug into his bare skin. What happened? He blinked at his surroundings, startled to see claw marks in the furniture and the floor. Blood smeared across the floor by the couch, which was presumably where he’d taken his nap…

Had he ever laid down for the nap? Jeremy couldn’t recall, trying to remember and think about what could’ve possibly happened while he was asleep. He spat the blood out of his mouth, wiping at his mouth, only to realize that there was blood under his fingernails and all over his hands.

“Percy?” he called out tentatively, hating how gravelly his voice came out.

Surely nothing had happened to his dog, right? Jeremy cautiously stepped across the floor as he searched for his dog. The clumps of fur were not a promising sight as he looked around his house.

“Percy?” Jeremy tried to call out again, but his voice failed him.

He felt very ill, flicking the light on in his bathroom to stare at his very pale, bloodied face. Nothing ached or hurt, but he was absolutely covered in blood.

Jeremy splashed his face with water, scrubbing at the blood staining his face and hands, desperate to get the sight out of his head. Pieces of his uniform slid down his arms into the water of the sink.

What had even happened?

The shower afterward was completely necessary, and Jeremy felt feverish from everything that had happened. His memory was beginning to return, although he did not feel that he’d been in control for most of it, feeling defensive enough to lash out at Percy, who’d only been trying to help.

The bloodstained lump on his bed was something he pointedly made himself ignore when grabbing underwear and socks. He needed more time before he could try to deal with that.

Tears built up in his throat as he grabbed his spare uniform from the shelf by the door and made sure it was fully intact for his shift that night. At least there was something that hadn’t completely gone wrong.

I need a cup of coffee or something, Jeremy thought to himself, shuddering. But he did not feel comfortable enough to do much in his own home, not with reminders of his outburst everywhere.

He avoided his apartment for the better part of a week after that, knowing that it wasn’t healthy to cope by avoiding what happened, but he just couldn’t go back, knowing what he’d done to Percy.

By Wednesday’s shift, Jeremy was properly jittery as he clocked in for work and walked down to the office. The music box was fully wound, as Scott sat in the chair, patiently waiting for him with a friendly smile. “Hiya Jeremy!”

“You sticking around today?” Jeremy asked? He knew about Scott’s tendency to kind of just come in during shifts and stick around. Phil said it was because his own work was boring, and besides, Scott loved being helpful, despite being 7 years old.

“Yep! I’ll keep that nasty balloon boy away!” Scott chirped cheerfully.

“Well, that’s fantastic, buddy. Thanks for that.” Jeremy squatted down to squint at the camera screens, his typical habit to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be.

“Is your hand all better now?” Scott asked.

“Huh?” Jeremy glanced up from the cameras, momentarily distracted.

“Well, Dad said you’d done something to your hand, and we could all see the bandages you’d put over it. ‘Course, he said it was none of our business since you didn’t file any paperwork for it, but-“

“You just can’t keep your nose out of it, can you?” Jeremy shook his head, flipping through the cameras again to make sure the toys were in their places.

The familiar sound of Mangle creeping around in the vents was not as reassuring as it used to be. And Mangle didn’t really like the other employees either. Jeremy had no idea if Scott and Mangle got along even.

“Get your mask ready,” Jeremy said quietly, checking the vent light. Sure enough, Mangle peered into the room from the vent as he shoved the Freddy head over Scott’s head.

“I can do it myself!” Scott exclaimed, his voice muffled by the fabric. “Wait, where’s your mask?”

Jeremy crouched by the vent and reached a hand out to touch the cool plastic of Mangle’s mask. The animatronic fox let out a series of happy clicks, nudging harder into his hand before ducking away to presumably wander around the pizzeria some more.

“How did you not die?” Scott asked, tearing the Freddy head off to drop it back on the corner of the desk. He flipped through the cameras while waiting for an answer, stopping to wind the music box.

“Mangle likes me,” Jeremy shrugged, peering at the cameras over Scott’s head. “Looks like a quiet shift today.”

“Yeah, if Mangle counts as a quiet shift,” Scott muttered, dropping the monitor back to the desk. “I don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get?” Jeremy replied.

“You night guards are so weird. My dad got all affectionate about Foxy, even though he had to pull out the stun gun for him. Masks don’t work on all of them, and my dad had to have all the affection for the one most likely to kill him.” Scott eyed Jeremy wearily. “Kind of like you, actually.”

“Thanks. Maybe Foxy wouldn’t have killed your dad, you know.” Jeremy glanced at the stage camera again. Toy Bonnie was noticeably absent, but there was nothing to worry about yet.

“He would’ve. He tried constantly.” Scott ducked under the desk, and Jeremy heard faint mechanical laughter before a loud clanging noise. Balloon Boy sprinted out of the room with one of the masks in his hand.

“Aw, you gotta be kidding,” Jeremy sighed as Scott stared after the animatronic. “If anything comes in here, you get the mask.”

“But it’s-“

“I’m the night guard, buddy.” Jeremy shook his head, flipping through the cameras. There. Toy Bonnie had slipped into a party room. “I gotta keep you safe, first and foremost.”

“They would never hurt a kid,” Scott muttered, staring into the hallway, hands clenched tightly around his flashlight.

“Don’t even think about going after him, Scott.” Jeremy wound the music box, not sparing a glance at the kid. “There’s too many factors out there, and you know exactly what Phil would say.”

“Yeah yeah.” Scott scowled. “He’s never taken a mask before.”

“First time for everything,” Jeremy sighed, rubbing his eyes. He’d been feeling more exhausted lately, but that was from nightmares. He really needed to get better sleep.

“Bonnie,” Scott whispered, dropping the flashlight to reach for the mask. His hands trembled, and Jeremy was reminded that Scott was still a little kid.

He heard the sound of Toy Bonnie crawling out of the vent, but instead of reaching for Jeremy, Toy Bonnie went for Scott, who hadn’t finished putting the mask on.

“Wait, hang on-“ Jeremy whacked the animatronic’s arm with the camera monitor in his hands. The animatronic didn’t spare him a glance as it pulled Scott across the desk by his shirt. “Leave him alone! Hey!” Jeremy’s yelling turned into a growl as his shirt ripped to allow room for him to grow larger and larger.

The animatronic rabbit twitched backward, seemingly surprised and maybe even a little afraid. However, Jeremy’s transformation did not seem to make Toy Bonnie more inclined to let Scott go. If anything, Toy Bonnie pulled the kid closer as he backed away from the desk.

Jeremy’s own ears flattened against his head as he vaulted over the desk to pry Scott free from the animatronic’s grasp. The sound of ripping fabric didn’t deter the giant golden rabbit. His focus fixed on what he saw as a danger, and his teeth broke through the cheap plastic easily, puncturing fluid containers and severing wires.

Toy Bonnie’s screech echoed, even as it abruptly cut off by Jeremy destroying the voicebox. Black shimmering liquid dripped down Jeremy’s maw as he stalked forward, whiskers twitching as he sensed more animatronics beginning to stir.

Scott got to his feet wearily, tugging his torn shirt back to its place. He silently pressed himself against the wall behind him, knowing better than to make any sudden moves as he placed the Bonnie head on the floor. It would do him no good to appear as a threat.

Scott’s decision to not look like the old purple rabbit seemed to prove right as an animatronic with torn fabric arms and exposed wires stalked his way into the hallway to investigate. His ears seemed to move much easier than Toy Bonnie’s as they swiveled to express fear, even without a proper face to do so.

Jeremy did not seem to recognize the distinction, growling at the new opponent in his space. Bonnie’s head tilted to the side before he turned to race down the hallway with heavy echoing steps. Jeremy bounded after him, much faster as his limbs were more natural, taking on extra power after Jeremy’s transition into a larger, more predatory form.

Bonnie spared no time in his own fearful screech, something that was answered with a deep, ominous growl. Scott, somehow still unafraid, followed the fighting rabbits to investigate.

The giant golden rabbit towered over the animatronic standing in his way, a similarly colored animatronic bear with no pupils. The bear’s ears wiggled as it set in place, a firm grip around Jeremy’s wrist to stop him from striking out with claws.

A pressure built up in the back of Scott’s head as images and unspoken words forced their way into his head. Based on the way the giant bunny was twitching and shaking his head, it appeared he wasn’t the only one. The angry bunny let out an outraged whine as he was tossed against a wall with seemingly no effort. The unspoken command lingered in the air as the rabbit dug into the tiles to launch himself toward the exit door.

The golden bear turned to Scott, who’d finally gained the sense of mind to realize that maybe the animatronic would turn on him. He gasped out a frightened breath before the barely tangible forms of two children roughly his age appeared in front of him. The girl tried to give him a reassuring smile as the boy stared down the hallway where the rabbit had disappeared. He picked up the night guard hat with what appeared to be disinterest, before crushing it into a tight ball.

“Bad rabbit,” he said softly.

The girl nodded. “We’ll keep you safe until 6 a.m., okay?”

Scott brightened at that. Nothing could hurt him now, especially with the animatronics seeming to avoid the back area he’d ended up in. Bonnie peered at him with red LEDs before slowly making his way back into the corridor, presumably to continue nosing around like the rabbit he was.

Ramona hated to be this nosy. She did. Really. But when Jeremy wasn’t around and missed their weekly coffee, she had the right to be suspicious. Especially after that pizzeria started asking for more help again. Night shift position. That was what Jeremy’s job was. Which meant the first step was seeing if he’d quit.

“Jeremy!” Ramona called, knocking harshly at his door.

When she got no answer, she started peering in the windows, looking for some indication that something had happened. The curtains were drawn, though, so she couldn’t see into the house. He’s lucky I keep a spare key, Ramona thought to herself as she let herself into the house.

“Jeremy?” Ramona called into the house, trying not to gasp at the ripped-up floorboards and tattered furniture. “Jer, are you home?”

Stepping over the destroyed floorboards, she peered at the bloodstained carpet, feeling a flicker of concern. “Jeremy?” She knew her voice was getting louder as she became more afraid of what had happened to her brother.

A whimper from Jeremy’s bedroom made her whirl around and rush to the room. “Percy?”

Jeremy’s dog had nestled underneath his blanket, soaking them so thoroughly with blood. It was Percy’s blood, she thought to herself, approaching her brother’s injured dog cautiously. “Hey, Percy. It’s okay. It’s me, remember? Auntie Mona?”

Percy whined again, blinking through the blood on his face.

“Alright,” Ramona took a deep breath. “Perce, how do you feel about coming to stay with me for a while? Looks like you might need it pretty badly.”

This was decidedly not a good sign.

It had to be raining every day this week, didn’t it? Michael glowered at the clouds, hating every moment of the weather that made his skin itch and burn. He couldn’t go outside, not for anything.

It was lucky Michael could even bear a shower anymore.

The bills on his table protested his refusal to go outside, of course. He’d already been fired from two jobs for refusing to work on days when it rained. He’d lost a few more interview opportunities for cancelling last minute because of the rain.

Mike’s eyes drifted back to the newspaper advertisement. Much as he hated to admit it, Freddy’s was probably the only job that would not care if he skipped a shift because of rain.

Still, he didn’t want to work at Freddy’s under any circumstances. Not after the… incident…

Michael ripped his gaze away from the newspaper, the memories already making him feel ill. The letter on the edge of his table sat untouched. He didn’t want to know what his father wanted either. He’d rather stand in a thunderstorm than see what his father needed from him this time.

That might be the only option, he thought duly, eyeing his overflowing trashcan. With a painful sigh, Michael yanked his raincoat from the rack and slung it across his shoulders. The hood pulled tight over his head, making his scalp burn. He retrieved his umbrella from behind the sofa (how had it gotten there?) before compacting the trash to make all of his garbage fit in the bag.

With only another moment of hesitation, Michael twisted the doorknob and stepped outside.

“Well, fancy that! Michael Schmidt out in the rain! I thought you were a witch or something with the way you avoided water!” Michael’s elderly neighbor called out, unphased by the rain like she always was.

“Good afternoon, Miss Wess,” Michael replied politely.

“I don’t know about good,” Miss Wess wrinkled her nose. “Poor Logan just can’t handle this type of weather. Kind of like you, actually.”

Michael forced a smile, glancing at the irritated cat at Mis Wess’ feet. His tail drooped as he glowered at the puddles on the sidewalk. “We can’t all be unbothered by the weather like you are, Miss Wess.”

“We’ve known each other long enough, dear. Call me Beverly.”

Michael didn’t reply after that, opting to walk toward the dumpster on the street corner, knowing she wouldn’t follow him.

“You know, a handsome man like you could find a woman easily! I’m sure she’d be more than happy to handle chores like going outside in the rain!” Miss Wess called cheerfully before heading back into her house for the sake of her poor cat.

Michael did not need a girlfriend. He did not want a girlfriend. He did not deserve to be loved, after all. That ship sailed a long time ago, he thought bitterly, shuddering as he felt his damp hair on his face.

The letter on the table mocked him as he threw his wet coat over a chair, water splashing on the surface of the paper. He ignored it, more concerned about tearing the damp shirt off his body, frantically rushing to grab a towel to dry his hair as well.

The shirt went in the sink as Michael sank to his knees sobbing into the towel. Maybe he should’ve just bit the bullet and opened the letter from his father, but now it was near impossible to even imagine it.

He glanced at the bills again with a pained groan later that night. He really needed to get a job.

It’s my own fault. I suppose Freddy’s would be the only place that would hire me at this point. With a very aggravated groan, Michael dialed the number on the newspaper clipping.

“Uh, hello? Hello, hello?” The voice at the other end seemed distracted and maybe even a little nervous. “You’ve, uh, reached Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. How may I help you today?”

“Hi, this is Michael. Urm. Michael Schmidt. I saw your ad in the newspaper? I was wondering if I could apply for the night guard position.”

“Oh, you were?” The guy chuckled a little. “Well, that, uh. That’d be great! When could you come in to interview?”

“Um…” Michael tried to think. “Do you know when the rain is supposed to stop?”

“Hmm, let’s see…” Michael heard some rustling noises as the guy on the other end of the phone presumably checked the forecast. “Well, it’s uh. It’s supposed to be done raining tomorrow afternoon. Will you be able to come in tomorrow?”

“Yes. Does three o’clock work?” Michael asked.

“Uh, sure! I’ll mark you down for three o’clock. I’ll also ask that you bring a copy of your resume, uh, a driver’s license or passport, and uh. No, that about covers it. You’ll be wanting to look for a guy called Lloyd. I’ll er, I’ll check to see that he’s in tomorrow, hang on.”

There were more rustling noises. “Yep! We’re in luck, he’ll be here. So you’ll want to come in and talk to Lloyd, and he’ll interview you for the job. Sound okay with you?”

“Yes, that sounds fine.” Michael found himself twisting the phone cord tightly around his finger. “I’ll see you tomorrow at three.”

“Nope! I actually don’t work that shift. But uh, I’ll see you some other time. If you get the job, that is.” He chuckled again. “I’ll uh, catch you on the flipside!”

“Goodbye-“ Michael started to say as the other man hung up on him. Weird.

Well, a job interview seemed promising enough. That was how it always sounded though. The trick was keeping the job, really.

Still, Michael had to at least keep this job through a paycheck or two. Maybe the rain would properly let up enough for him to keep the job long enough to pay off his bills.

The next morning, Michael woke up relieved to hear water dripping from the roof. There was no sound of rain pouring from the actual sky, just the leftovers from the day before. Slightly hopeful about how things were turning out, Michael went to brush his teeth and get prepared for the day.

“Someone’s energized today!” Miss Wess called when Michael went for a short walk that morning.

“No reason not to!” he called back. “The rain’s stopped.”

“You and Logan both seem pleased today.” Miss Wess shook her head, smiling slightly. “Michael dear, do you happen to have a bit of time this morning to come have a chat?”

“I suppose…” Michael considered it for a moment. “So long as it’s only during the morning, I think that’d be fine.”

“Great! Come right on in when you’re finished with your walk then.”

Odd… Michael shook his head, continuing his walk while he still felt the light joy in his chest.

When he got to Miss Wess’ house, she offered him a cup of tea. “Freshly brewed!”

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, nothing too crazy. You’re not allergic to cats, are you?” Miss Wess asked, sipping at her own cup of tea.

“No…?” Michael sat uncomfortably with his tea in hand. “Why?”

“Well, I’m going on a trip with my daughter next week, and I need someone to watch Logan here! He’d get so lonely without me here.”

Logan seemed disinclined to acknowledge Miss Wess’ words, instead choosing to jump onto Michael’s lap and startle him.

“Fancy that, he already likes you!” Miss Wess exclaimed as Logan put his front paws against Michael’s chest to sniff his face for a moment before licking it.

“Ah! I can see that.” Michael gently pushed Logan off of his lap. “So you want me to cat sit for you?”

“Only if you’re willing to. I can find someone else if you don’t want to, but I figured this would work out better! You live right next door, so all you’d need to do is come in and make sure he’s fed and has water. Oh, and you’ll need to walk him twice a day so he can stretch his legs properly. Logan loves to be outside.”

“Right…” Michael debated with himself for a moment before asking his next question. “How many days will you be gone?”

“Oh, from Sunday morning until Saturday morning. I should be back Saturday afternoon.” Miss Wess could clearly see that Michael was considering it. “And, it’s only fair that I pay you for your time, of course. I’d say $500 would cover the week, wouldn’t you?”

Michael blinked. That would more than easily cover his bills for the month. He’d have less to worry about with his new job if he already had the bills covered. “I suppose…”

“Or I could say $750?” Miss Wess offered.

“I don’t need that much,” Michael said quickly. “I can watch Logan for you. You said walk him twice a day?”

“Yes, and one of those times, I’d appreciate if you make sure his bowl is full.” Miss Wess seemed happier knowing that she’d sorted that out. “And if you’d like, I could introduce you to my daughter on Saturday when we get back.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary, Miss Wess.” Michael forced himself to take a sip of his tea in order to stop himself from scoffing at the stupid suggestion. She couldn’t possibly be trying to set him up with her daughter, surely?

“Alright, fine, fine. You’d like to take your own pick of the pack, that’s fine. But you will need to stop by anyway to return the key.” Miss Wess’ eyes twinkled as she finished up her tea.

Michael smiled thinly, feeling a bit hollow at the thought. He couldn’t bear to try to meet new people, to try to explain to them that he didn’t deserve their love, that he was a monster and a killer. “Thank you for the tea, Miss Wess.”

“I already told you to call me Beverly,” she scolded gently. “But you’re welcome here anytime, dear.”

Michael nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to say much else. “I need to go…”

“Oh, that’s fine dear. Have a good day!” Beverly Wess watched Michael hurry to leave her house. “Oh, that poor man. He needs someone to comfort him.”

“Mrow?” Logan meowed, putting his paws on her knees, preparing to jump up.

“Yes, Logan. He needs some love in his life. I don’t know what happened to leave such a dark shadow over him, but he’s too lonely for his own good.” Beverly sighed, shaking her head. “Too sad for his own good too.”

Michael left early for his interview, knowing that he needed to make a good impression. Sure, they probably were going to hire him just because he was interested in the job, but maybe he wasn’t the only one interested in the job.

Taking a deep breath, he walked into the pizzeria, feeling the familiar scent wash over him and the familiar site greeting him. The animatronics were different, but that was the only thing that seemed to have changed. What appeared to be a Freddy and Chica model were performing onstage, and he could make out a mangled torso of another animatronic in the corner, surrounded by toddlers. Is that even safe? he wondered.

Shaking his head, he asked an employee where he could find Lloyd. They gestured toward a corridor where the light seemed to flicker. That wasn’t ominous at all, Michael thought, but he entered the hallway wearily.

The music felt more muted in the hallway, and Michael could see party rooms lining the corridor. Party room 2, he thought to himself, reaching for the door handle.

“Hey, you here for the night guard job?” A woman interrupted his thoughts, grabbing his arm to stop him from entering the party room.

“Uh, yeah?” Michael blinked, surprised as the woman yanked him away from the door and pulled him a ways down the hallway. “Hey, what are you-“

“Shut up.” She seemed to assess him. “What’s your name?”

“Michael? Michael Schmidt?” Was this some kind of extra test? To make sure the night guard was up for the position? Michael’s eyebrows scrunched, and he pulled his arm free. “Who are you?”

“Ramona Fitzgerald,” she answered, still assessing him. “Hmm… your clothes are shabby, although you did brush your teeth for this…” She stuck her hand in his hair, yanking him to her level. “Greasy hair though… Are you unemployed right now?”

“Yes?” Michael tried to flatten his hair. “Why are you grilling me?”

“I’m the one asking the questions here, Schimdt.” She frowned at him.

“Well, you’re interrupting my interview time, so we can talk later-“

“Shut up. I’m not done with you yet.” Ramona’s eyes narrowed. “Are you British?”

“I- I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Michael replied defensively. “What is your deal?”

“What’s your deal?” she shot back at him. “Mister distinguished, showing up in a shabby button-down with greasy hair to a job interview.”

“It’s Freddy Fazbear’s. You probably care more than they do.”

“What if they put you on day shift?” she kept going, undeterred by the fact that he was giving her good answers.

“Miss Fitzgerald!” A voice from down the hall called. “I thought I told you to quit interrogating my interview subjects.”

“I’ll stop when I’m dead,” Ramona muttered. “Where’s my brother, Lloyd?”

“Your brother is missing?” Michael asked, suddenly completely interested. “What happened?”

“If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be here.” Ramona glowered at Lloyd. “Go to your stupid interview. I’ll be waiting.”

With that ominous message out of the way, Michael went back to where Lloyd was waiting for him.

“Sorry about her, Mister…?”

“Schimdt. Michael Schmidt.”

“Right. She’s been acting crazy since her brother went missing a few days ago. Seems to think we took him out to replace him.” Lloyd shook his head in disbelief. “Which is utterly ridiculous. Jeremy was an excellent night guard, and he got along with the animatronics better than most. None of that ‘the animatronics are haunted’ nonsense either. No, if we’d had a problem with Jeremy, we would’ve fired him.” Lloyd cleared his throat and started the interview.

Leaving the interview with more questions that he should not have wanted to investigate, Michael was given a pat on the back, a set of keys, and a uniform. Lloyd told him his next shift would be tomorrow night, starting at 12 a.m., which was shockingly early.

“You got the job then?” Ramona asked dryly, following him out.

“Were you standing outside for that entire interview?” Michael asked, somewhat glad that she’d actually stuck around. Maybe she’d have some of the answers he needed.

“Maybe.”

“When you said your brother went missing, I assumed that meant he was an younger brother,” Michael remarked.

“He-“ Ramona stopped herself. “He’s only a year older than me.”

“Yeah, but I thought he’d be like, five. Not twenty-two.”

“Details details,” Ramona replied dismissively. “I didn’t realize this got at you. Concerned about the kids, are you?”

“Someone should be,” Michael muttered.

“Then why aren’t you working a day shift?” Ramona asked.

“The position was for night shift. So I’m working night shift.”

“Yeah, but-“ Ramona paused, realizing that they were just continuing down the sidewalk. “Do you not even have a car?”

“No?” Michael blinked at her.

“Okay, no, we’re not doing this. Come here.”

“What-“

“I’m driving you home, this is ridiculous.”

“I don’t need-“

“GET IN THE CAR, MICHAEL.” Ramona’s tone left no room for negotiation.

“Yes ma’am,” Michael replied weakly.

He pointedly did not address the dog sleeping in the back seat of the car. The dog blinked sleepily as he got in, but Ramona cooed softly at him, telling him everything was fine and he could go back to sleep. The injuries on the dog’s face begged to be asked about, but Michael didn’t think he deserved the right to ask.

“So you wanted the night shift, or you’re just taking the night shift because that’s what they offered you?”

“I’m taking the night shift because I’d rather the night shift than the day shift. I’m not good with kids,” Michael replied stiffly. “Next question.”

“Why Freddy’s? Why now?”

“It’ll pay the bills.”

“Yeah, but why Freddy’s?”

“I’ve been in and out of jobs for a while…” Michael shifted uncomfortably.

“So you wouldn’t be able to get a job anywhere else.” Ramona spared him a glance as she drove. “You’re a mess, no offense.”

“I’m aware.” Michael stared out the window. “Why are you so determined to bug me about this stuff, by the way?”

“Because. You seem almost genuine, but I’m not entirely sure on your motives just yet.”

“Wow, thanks,” Michael said sarcastically, finally facing her. “I’m glad I’ve gotten to the stage of mostly unsuspicious in your books.”

“No need to be rude about it,” Ramona wrinkled her nose. “I just want to make sure my brother is okay.”

The dog in the back seat whined.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Percy. We’ll find him,” Ramona told the golden retriever.

“So, I’m guessing that’s your brother’s dog?” Michael asked wearily.

“He sure is. I went to Jer’s apartment to look for him first, but he wasn’t there. The whole place was trashed, and Percy looked like he’d been gnawed on by a big animal. Couldn’t find it anywhere though, so I have no idea what actually happened. So I went to ask Lloyd if he knew where my brother was and found him conducting interviews.”

“I figured I wasn’t the first interrogation,” Michael observed.

“You weren’t. The others wussed out and just left though.” Ramona shrugged, pulling into Michael’s driveway. “I guess I helped test the proper strength for that job. You know the place is haunted, right?”

“Those are just rumors,” Michael answered, digging for his keys in his pocket.

“Uh huh. No, with the chompers on the Toy Bonnie animatronic? For sure those things get out and attack people. I’d bet either he or one of the other freaks from that place attacked Percy. Which means they probably got my brother too.”

Ramona let Percy out of the car to follow them into the house, something Michael really wished she’d asked him for permission for first. But she seemed the type to just do whatever she wanted to, so he wasn’t too offended. It was honestly just as invasive as she’d been since he met her.

He swiped the bills and his untouched letter from his father off the table and put them away in a cupboard. Ramona raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious. “So, you think the animatronics attacked your brother?” he asked, hoping to distract from his rapid movement.

“Yeah… I think it’s kinda suspicious that Toy Bonnie was removed from the show. Apparently all three of them are typically onstage at the same time.”

“It did feel weird that Freddy was there without Bonnie today.” Michael shrugged, setting the bundle on the table. “But I don’t know that I believe that the animatronics are haunted.”

“How did they get into Jeremy’s house then?” Ramona countered. Percy seemed to agree with that as he paced around Michael’s kitchen.

“I don’t know! Burglars get into people’s houses all the time.”

“But they don’t chew on people’s pets.”

Michael’s mouth thinned. “Okay. Maybe the dog got hurt while they were on a walk or something and that’s why.”

“Jeremy would never mistreat his dog,” Ramona argued. “How dare you imply that.”

“I’m not implying anything!” Michael held his hands up in surrender.

“Mhm,” Ramona glowered at him. “Well, seeing as you seem invested in this, how about we team up? You help me find my brother, and I leave you alone with your questions answered. I get my brother back and you get to do your job in peace.”

“That doesn’t seem like an even trade-off,” Michael muttered.

“Oh, you want to play that game?” Ramona’s eyes flashed. “You really want to play that game with me, Michael Afton?”

Michael stiffened. “You-“

“I don’t know why you’re trying to lie about your legal name on job applications, but I bet they’d like to know that you’re not who you say you are. Especially since a ton of kids went missing a few years ago at this exact location.”

Michael’s mouth thinned. “You’re-“

“A bitch? Please, I’ve heard that from plenty of men before. You WILL help me, or your secret is out.”

They stared at each other, neither happy with the fact that they had to work together.

“Fine. What do you want from me?” Michael asked, resigned to this mess he’d gotten wrapped up in.

“Tell me about your night shifts. If anything weird happens, I want to know.”

“And if nothing weird happens? If there’s no sign of hauntings?”

Ramona rolled her eyes. “Well, you still have to help me find my brother. If it wasn’t the haunted animatronics, then it had to be something.”

Michael scowled. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

They stared at each other for another long moment before Ramona clicked her tongue and walked out, Percy following slowly behind her. He looked back at Michael and whined for a moment before hurrying after Ramona.

Michael rubbed his face. This was not going to be a pleasant experience, he could already feel it.

The week crawled by slowly. Michael got to a certain point where he just moved Logan’s food and water to his house and walked the cat after his shift each morning and then let the cat hang out and wander around his house. He’d stupidly bought a litterbox, but Miss Wess had paid him half before she’d left and was promising the second half after she got back, so it was fine.

Logan yawned, stretching across Michael’s torso.

“Oof!” Michael coiled in on himself as Logan launched himself off Michael’s stomach. “I thought I told you to quit that!” he scolded.

Logan just looked up at him before meowing.

“Nuisance,” Michael muttered. “I’ll feed you in a minute.”

Logan meowed at him again before slipping out of the room.

Sighing, Michael stretched before getting up. He’d given himself a few hours before his shift, just like he usually did, but most of his time came in the actual morning, which was when he’d typically call Ramona to give an update.

He glared at the stormy weather as he fed Logan, not happy that his shift was going to start with rain. He’d tried to get out of it, of course, but Phil, the guy who had the shift before him, had a child who’d gone to work with him. And Scott couldn’t stick around the pizzeria for a 12 hour shift, not when he had school in the morning.

So Michael had to go to work in the rain, something he hated much more than anything else he could imagine. He shoved his hat onto his head and double-checked his tie before giving Logan a thumbs up and walking out the door, his umbrella snapping open.

He’d long given up on being in a calm state of being before work, knowing that the animatronics were hunting him down (thanks for the late word of warning, Phil!) and wanted to kill him. There was no way he was going to be fine at the beginning of his shift.

Discarding the umbrella in the corner of the office, Michael took a deep breath, opening the cameras to wind the music box. Having the music playing loudly in his ears meant he did not hear the footsteps quickly approaching his room until his monitor was ripped from his hands by a golden hand.

Startled, Michael jerked back from the animatronic bear with a stuttered gasp. The combination of the water soaking through his clothes and into his skin and the very angry Fredbear standing before him was altogether too much.

Warmth seeped down his leg, making Michael dimly register that he’d wet himself. The animatronic didn’t leave him much chance to think about it though, as he was hefted out of his chair by his throat, leaving his feet scrambling for purchase on the table’s surface.

He choked out a breath as his hat tumbled from his hair and clattered to the desk, right next to the cracked camera screen. Feebly, he thought this is it, certain that he was finally earning his death for what he’d done to his brother four years ago.

Hot breath left Michael suffocating as the animatronic growled softly in his ear. “We’re taking back what we deserve.”

Michael closed his eyes, knowing that he deserved whatever the animatronic decided to do with him.

“Wait,” a soft voice echoed in his mind. “He’s not doing what he’s supposed to do. Why isn’t he begging?”

“He doesn’t have to beg. He just needs to die. We need to make sure it never happens again,” another voice argued. Her voice sounded harsher, more firm. “No more golden bunnies to hunt us. No more monsters to hurt or kill.”

Michael recognized one of the voices as his brother, but he couldn’t place the other. Weakly, he gasped out, “I don’t deserve to live anyway. Why would I beg?”

“Something’s wrong,” Evan whispered softly.

The tight grip around Michael’s throat loosened slightly.

The girl groaned, but she muttered something to herself before the animatronic completely let go of Michael. Pain flared up his whole leg as he collapsed back to the floor.

He groaned weakly, looking up to see two small children standing over him. Evan, he thought in a daze, trying to sit up. Michael wrapped his arms around his knees and leaned back against the desk, waiting for one of them to say something.

“Who are you?” the girl demanded.

“Michael.” He stared at her. “Who are you?”

“Unbelievable,” she scoffed. “Right. You made this mess, you clean it up.”

“Michael?” Evan echoed quietly, not seeming to hear the girl. “But… Michael’s dead…”

“No?” Michael’s eyebrows creased. “No, Evan, you were the one who died.”

“I know I’m dead!” Evan snapped. “Obviously! But I thought-“ He shook his head. “I guess I was wrong…” He reached out a hand tentatively, touching the side of Michael’s face. “You’re alive,” he said with wonder in his voice.

“Evan, you’re going to have to explain.” The girl crossed her arms. “I thought you said this was our killer.”

“I- Well, they look similar…” Evan looked sheepishly at the girl. “Sorry Cassidy.”

“Sorry Cassidy,” she repeated shaking her head. “Next time you get me all stirred up for something, it better be a golden rabbit, Afton.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Evan tried to smile, but the girl had already vanished, just like the animatronic.

Faintly Michael realized he’d have to tell Ramona about all this. I guess she was right about the pizzeria being haunted, he thought grimly. “You weren’t entirely wrong, at least,” Michael told his brother. “I did kill you-“

“No.” Evan shook his head firmly. “It was an accident. You said you’d be better if I woke up. And I tried so hard, Mikey. I tried so hard. I almost succeeded.”

Michael’s throat dried up. “But you still died. And it was my fault-“

“Michael.” Evan interrupted him. “You did not kill me. You didn’t do it.”

“But-“

“Can you let me speak for two seconds?” Evan shook his head again, this time with a huff of impatience. “Father killed me. He took me off life support.”

“But… why would he… No, that can’t be-“

“I saw him do it,” Evan said faintly. “I heard him grumbling about how this whole mess was your fault, and it wouldn’t go away unless he handled it himself. He killed me, and I thought that meant he was going to kill you too.”

Michael slowly got to his feet, still a bit unsteady. “That’s crazy.”

“He killed a bunch of other kids. I thought it seemed plausible enough. He hates you, Mikey.”

“Great.” Michael huffed out a frustrated breath. “I… So, you don’t blame me?”

“I mean, you didn’t mean it, right? You didn’t try to kill me?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why would I blame you?” Evan inquired, perching on the corner of Michael’s desk as he wound the music box.

“Because it was my fault?”

“It was an accident,” Evan insisted. “And you apologized over and over again, which is more than I can say for Father.”

“I don’t think you should forgive me.”

“That’s because you don’t forgive yourself.” Evan peered at the cameras. “Toy Freddy’s coming.”

“I know.” Michael shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “Are you trying to do my job for me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Evan scoffed, a smile forming on his own face. “You’d get yourself killed if I wasn’t here!”

“I was doing just fine until you tried to kill me!” Michael shot back.

“Liar, you wet yourself!” Evan jeered.

“No comment. Just let me do my job in piece, you crazy ghost.”

“No more crazy than you are for working a night shift here,” Evan muttered.

A thought suddenly occurred to Michael as he sat with his brother. The phrasing made him think of something Ramona said to him when they’d met. “Evan, did you know a guy named Jeremy Fitzgerald? He used to work the nightshift here before I did.”

“Yeah, he was friends with some of the animatronics, why?” Evan’s smile faded slightly.

“What happened to him?”

“I…” Evan hesitated. “I think he’s dead, Mike.”

“Dead? Why do you think he’s dead?”

“We had a break-in that night. And he was wearing a bunny costume. He dismantled Toy Bonnie, tried to kidnap a kid, and…” Evan paused. “Well, he took Jeremy’s hat. So I don’t think he stood a chance against that guy.”

“What got rid of the robber?” Michael asked, shoving the Freddy head over his ears as Toy Freddy strolled into the office.

Evan made a shooing motion, and the animatronic went away. “Cassidy scared him off, I think.”

“Fair enough.”

Their conversation mellowed out and turned into a continuing series of bickering back and forth, Michael narrowly missing death several times. The animatronics seemed unamused by the brotherly banter, but Michael didn’t care. Evan had never seemed this happy in life, and he was glad to have a chance to see him again, even if it was as a ghost.

Michael found himself humming cheerily as he walked home that morning, swinging the compacted umbrella around his wrist. The rain still made a trail down his back, but for once, he didn’t feel the thick blood gushing over his head and onto his shirt.

Logan meowed impatiently at him as he returned home. Michael rolled his eyes, hanging his hat by the door. “You’re so needy.”

Logan meowed again in response, uncaring of what Michael thought of him. Michael rubbed his face, and Logan leaned into the scratches. He smiled faintly at the cat. “Okay, okay, fine. You deserve food.”

Logan meowed reproachfully as Michael took his hand away to get his food ready. Logan jumped onto the counter, and Michael had to shove his face away. “Give me some space, you ridiculous cat.”

“Meow,” Logan replied, licking his hand as he waited very impatiently for his food.

Michael set the food back on the floor and walked away to go take a shower. I’ll walk him after, Michael thought to himself. He needed to change his clothes anyway, not to mention he needed to run his uniform through the wash.

Completely cleaned off with his clothes in the wash, Michael coaxed Logan over for his walk. Logan was not happy to go out into the rain. “Come on, buddy. Just one quick lap and then we can come back inside.”

Logan yowled at him in response, flattening himself against the house.

“Logan,” Michael said, tugging the harness gently. “We gotta do this really quick, and then you can go back inside-“

Logan wiggled free from his collar somehow, shooting across the street and in between some of the houses. Michael cursed, racing after him and stumbled as he went through the tall wet grass. “Logan!”

He lost track of the cat briefly before spotting him near a dumpster. “Logan, I swear-“ Michael cut himself off as a rustling noise came from within the dumpster.

Logan stiffened as well, flattening himself against the ground as he sniffed the air. Michael faintly heard growling and wondered if they’d run into a stray dog or something. The top of the dumpster stirred as golden fur peaked through, and for a brief moment Michael wondered if it was Percy, somehow having escaped Ramona to dig around in the trash.

The next moment changed his mind as giant clawed paws gripped the edge of the dumpster, and the head of the massive golden rabbit was visible. Huge ears flattened against the rabbit’s head as the rain started to soak into its fur.

“Logan, get back here, right now,” Michael whisper shouted to the cat at the base of the dumpster.

The cat replied by slipping underneath the dumpster, somewhere where the rabbit couldn’t get him.

“Um…” Michael trailed off as the rabbit’s eyes zeroed in on him. “Hi?”

The rabbit’s nose twitched slightly, and its head tilted slightly, almost human in its motions.

“You seem… lost?” Michael said, still uncertain about what he was saying. Somehow he hadn’t been eaten yet, and that was lucky in of itself.

The rabbit crept out of the dumpster, definitely towering over Michael. It came close, sniffing him. Michael had no idea how wild rabbits behaved, but suddenly he remembered what his brother had said about a rabbit in the pizzeria. Right. That had happened. Was it this rabbit maybe?

He stared at the chipped paint under the rabbit’s claws, wondering about the light blue coloring. And there was black inky stuff leaking down the rabbit’s mouth and across its chest a little bit.

Tentatively, Michael reached out a hand and stroked the rabbit’s nose. The nose twitched again before it butted aggressively against his hand, almost petting itself using his hand. Oh… it was just a stray bunny. A really big stray rabbit, but a sweet creature nonetheless.

Logan reappeared suddenly, meowing up at the rabbit. The bunny paid him no mind, too busy nuzzling against Michael’s hand to care much about the black cat. Logan meowed again, sounding more irritated.

“Right. Yeah, we gotta get back…” Michael stared forlornly up at the rabbit, a coil of fondness already tangling around him. “Do you… want to go with us?” He retracted his hand slowly, and a small squeak escaped the rabbit’s throat.

“Uh…” Michael picked up Logan, feeling his wet fur soaking through his shirt. “Follow me, I guess?”

The rabbit trailed behind him as he walked back, and Michael felt odd knowing that it had decided to trust him, but he’d already decided he didn’t care. If Logan wasn’t hissing at it, then it was probably fine… right?

Back home, Logan resumed eating, paying no more attention to the bunny who’d barely squeezed through the front door. Michael went to retrieve more towels, quickly returning to start cleaning what he assumed was motor oil from the rabbit’s face and then helping to dry it.

The rabbit nuzzled against his face, seeming happy with the results. Michael knew the fondness in his chest was not going to go away any time soon. He sighed to himself. How was he going to explain this to Ramona?

He’d presumably found the thing that had made her brother go missing, but he’d adopted it into his home, and it seemed harmless so far. In fact, it seemed to love him.

Teeth scraped against his neck, and Michael blinked. “Hey, no biting.”

The bunny tilted its head, jaw twitching slightly. Oh. It needed a chew toy. Glad he’d caught that before it turned deadly, Michael offered one of the dry towels up, bunching it up slightly to make it more firm.

The bunny gnawed at the towel, shredding bits of it off.

“You’re going to make me invest in chew toys, aren’t you?” Michael shook his head with a sigh. He yawned, unable to keep it in as he rubbed the rabbit’s belly.

His body swayed forward, and the fur was so soft, and Michael couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. Faintly, he registered the pause in the rabbit’s chewing as giant paws scooped him up to nestle him closer. Michael sighed as he was surrounded by fluffy warmth and couldn’t stop himself from falling asleep any longer.

The sound of a phone ringing jolted Jeremy from his sleep. It was loud, piercing through his head like a hammer. He buried his face in the other man’s shirt before registering what he was doing. Wait, what?

Jeremy sat up quickly, looking around. He was… on the floor. Okay. There was a man beside him, and they were both surrounded by towels. One of the towels looked awfully ratty, and Jeremy found himself wincing as he spat out a piece of fuzz. Right. Apparently, that had happened.

The next realization was that he was completely naked. Oh. Okay. Uhhhh… Panicked, Jeremy scanned the room looked for a bedroom of some kind. A door creaked, and Jeremy flinched, expecting someone else to be in the apartment. Instead his eyes landed on a small black cat. The cat blinked at him, tail rising as it went to go lick the other man’s face.

“Wait, don’t do that!” Jeremy whispered loudly. Panicked, he grabbed the cat who squirmed and meowed in his face. “Shhhhh!”

The man on the floor shifted slightly, muttering something in his sleep. Jeremy went rigid, the cat dangling in his arms as the man sighed deeply and relaxed again.

Jeremy looked at the cat again. “Do you know where the bedroom is?”

The cat meowed in irritation, squirming some more before swiping its claws across Jeremy’s arm.

“Ah! Fuck!” Jeremy swore loudly, dropping the cat with a heavy thud. “Shit,” he whispered as the guy beside him finally rolled over and opened his eyes. Jeremy grabbed a towel and covered the other man’s face.

“What the hell-“ The man tried to pull the towel away and caught Jeremy’s wrist. “Who the fuck-“

“Uhh, can you give me a second, please? I don’t know how I got here or anything, but I’d really appreciate a moment of privacy.” Jeremy blurted out, his face burning over the brief second he’d heard the other man speak. Shit, why’d he have to sound attractive too?

“Pardon?”

“I, uh. I appear to have no clothes. Like, at all. So, unless you want to see that, I would love if you gave me a second.”

“Where are you expecting to get clothes from then?” the other man replied seemingly fully awake now. “Just cover up with towels or something. I’m sure there’s a bloody pile of them on the floor right now. I’ll get you some clothes.”

“Ah, I guess that’s… yeah, okay…”

Jeremy relaxed his grip on the towel, quickly burying himself in the rest of the towels around him before giving the man the go ahead to uncover his eyes.

Bright blue eyes blinked wearily at him, taking in his long golden hair and trailed down his torso. “Hey…”

“Right, clothes, sorry.” He shook his head and got to his feet. “I had to see if you were my size, but sorry.”

Well, that was an excuse if Jeremy had ever heard one. Still, he’d let it pass because he was still gawking at the man as he walked away, entering the room that the cat had come from.

Jeremy wanted to scream. Of all places to randomly wake up after a few nights of being trapped as a monster, a hot guy’s house was not where he was expecting to wake up. And why had they been asleep together? Did the guy have a fetish or something? Oh god, he really hoped not. It’d be a shame if this attractive guy was some kind of creep or something. Jeremy both hated and loved the implications, but the cat didn’t seem to be staring at him too judgmentally, so surely nothing had really been happening.

“Here. I think these should fit, but I’ll give you a second.” The man was interrupted by the phone ringing again. “Uh, bathroom’s that way.” He gestured vaguely before going to answer the phone. “Shit, what do you want Ramona?”

After the initial daze of being handed a bunch of clothes, Jeremy froze at the name. “Ramona Fitzgerald?”

The other man shot him a look before returning to his phone call. “Yeah yeah, you nosy bitch. I do have things to report. Can you give me like, ten minutes? I’ll call you back.” The man pinched his nose and hung up the phone. “Okay, pretty boy. Who are you and how the hell did you get into my house? And why do you know Ramona Fitzgerald?”

“Um. That’s… Well…”

Blue eyes leveled an impatient look at him, and the man slowly approached him. “Well?”

“I’m uh. Ramona’s my sister…” Jeremy scratched his neck. “I.. I’m.. Well, my name is… I’m Jeremy Fitzgerald.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” The man stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Well-“

“No, no, just stop talking. Stop for a second.” A hand covered Jeremy’s mouth. “You’re really going to sit here and say that you’re Jeremy Fitzgerald after everything I’ve had to tolerate because of your sister? Do you have any idea how worried she is about you?”

Jeremy blinked. He couldn’t bring himself to move away from the hand covering his mouth.

“God, you would be a bloody idiot, wouldn’t you.” The man sighed. “Go get dressed. We can finish this conversation later.”

The cat meowed at that moment, too impatient to wait much longer.

“Yeah, I’ll get you some food, Logan, you fucking glutton.”

The cat shot him a look, meowing again.

“I’m getting to it!” The man stood up, clearly exasperated. “If you sit in my kitchen all morning instead of getting dressed, I will kick you out, with or without answers.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” Jeremy scrambled to his feet, still nervous about the man turning around again. He hesitated for a moment before bolting to the bathroom to try on the clothes.

His first impulse was to sink his fingers into the shirt, surprised by the soft, worn material. He had so many questions that were not appropriate to ask, so he pulled the shirt over his head before staring awkwardly at the boxers and pants. Shaking the thoughts free from his head, he hurriedly pulled on the rest of the clothes and exited the bathroom to see the other man nursing a cup of… coffee? Tea? Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure.

“Uh, hi again,” Jeremy said awkwardly.

The man raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to just stand there?”

“I was planning on it, yeah.”

“Sit.”

“Okay…” Jeremy perched tensely on the edge of a chair.

The man stared at him for a moment before muttering something to himself. “Jesus, can you calm down enough to be normal?”

“I… I mean, I really shouldn’t be here. I appreciate all the help and everything, but I don’t think me sticking around is a good idea-“

“Shut up for a minute, would you? Ramona is going to be here in 20 minutes. We’ll see if she thinks you are who you say you are.”

“Oh.” Jeremy stared down at the table, afraid of more questions.

“So. I’m Michael.” The man took a sip from his mug of whatever he’d been drinking.

“Okay.” That was a lovely name, Jeremy thought. It suited him too, and Jeremy couldn’t help but sweep his gaze across the man’s tired face and tangled brown hair. “You seem a bit exhausted there, Mike.”

“Michael,” he corrected, frowning slightly.

“Right. Sorry. You seem tired, Michael.”

“What did you do with the rabbit?” Michael said suddenly. “There was a rabbit here before.”

“Uh…” Jeremy pointedly looked away. “I think that should be a bit more obvious.”

“Evan said you were probably dead. The rabbit supposedly killed you.”

“I guess that’s one way to put it,” Jeremy answered bitterly. Flashes of the last few nights flickered across his mind. The cat seemed more afraid than Michael did. The soft gaze from his memories nearly made Jeremy melt. He wanted to find a way to earn that gaze again. Of all the times to have appeared as a rabbit.

Michael stared at him, seemingly waiting for him to say more. A knock at the door made him curse, and he got up to answer the door. “Fucking Ramona.”

Jeremy wanted to smile at the way Michael’s accent made his curse words sound. But he had a feeling that wouldn’t be appropriate.

“Let me see him,” the familiar demanding tone of his sister’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“Mona?” Jeremy blurted out.

“Jerry?” Ramona shoved past Michael to walk into the room. “Oh, you’re okay!” She yanked him out of his chair and squeezed him in a tight hug.

“That’s my end of the deal upheld,” Michael said stiffly, closing the door.

Logan hissed, shooting between Michael’s legs to hide behind the man.

“You can get out of my house now,” he added, crossing his arms. “Ramona.”

“Oh, go to hell, Michael. I just found out that my brother is alive and unharmed, give me a minute to process before you be an ass.”

“Fucking hell,” Michael muttered, walking past them to enter the bathroom.

Jeremy tried to sputter out an apology, but Ramona was squeezing him so tightly he could barely squeak out a breath. “Mona, please let me breath.”

“Sorry.” Ramona released him from the hug, still holding both shoulders. “You’re okay? Nothing broken? Nothing bruised?”

“I’m just a bit hungry.”

Ramona’s eyes flashed at that. “You didn’t feed him?” she shouted at Michael.

“I haven’t bloody well eaten yet! Leave me alone woman!”

“It’s not Michael’s fault. Ramona, please calm down for a second.”

“His father’s a killer, Jeremy. The apple doesn’t tend to fall too far from the tree,” Ramona said quietly.

“Well, he was plenty nice to me. I think you just put him in a bad mood,” Jeremy said sheepishly.

“These aren’t your clothes,” Ramona noticed suddenly. “Oh, Jer, tell me you didn’t…”

“What?” Jeremy blinked, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation. “Ramona, are you feeling okay?”

“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with Michael.”

Jeremy’s mouth fell open. He had no idea how to answer that question. “Ramona.”

“Did you or did you not?”

“I did not have sex with Michael!” Jeremy said a bit too loudly.

Michael scowled at the pair of them, holding his hand up in a rude gesture. “Get the hell out of my house.”

“Fuck you too,” Ramona shot back. “Come on, Jeremy. Let’s go.”

“What- Wait, Ramona, can’t you at least-“

“We’re leaving.”

Jeremy tried to shoot an apologetic look to Michael, but the man had already turned away to resume brushing his teeth. Great. So much for first impressions.

“You’re mean, you know that?” Jeremy said irritably as he dropped into the passenger seat.

#cloud writes #werebunny au #fnaf au #jeremy fitzgerald #ramona fitzgerald #michael afton #ghost children #OCs #cc fnaf #cassidy fnaf #evan afton #Pixxxxxxxx #you've infected me with brainrot #is this a shared AU now?#idk #i guess it could be #anyway

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yandere-writer-momo · 1 year

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Yandere Baki Short Stories: Lost & Found Pt 1

Yandere Merman Jun Guevara x Princess Reader x Vampire Biscuit Oliva

……………………………………….

By the time (your name) had gotten most of the blood washed from her skirts, it was too warm to wear. The salty ocean water did little to remove the crimson stains off the once white skirts of her dress. It was hopeless to even try to remove the blood off to begin with but it helped her try to stay sane in this predicament she found herself in…

She turned her head to glance at the vast inescapable ocean she found herself surrounded by on this small island… the island he had taken her to. A bull shark merman named Jun Guevara had saved her when a wave had tipped over the ship taking her to her fiancé’s home country to be wed for the peace between their nations… a shame she never made it to him.

In a way she was thankful to the merman who had rescued her from a cold, painful death but at the same time… she wished she had died with her knights and servants since she was now trapped on this small island.

(Your name) didn’t dare enter the forest any deeper than she had to in fear of there being other fantastical creatures like Jun. she doubted they’d be as ‘friendly’ as he was.

“Meu anjo!” Speak of the devil… she turned her head to see Jun peak his head out from the sea, the merman giving her a toothy grin. His dark eyes softened when he saw her sitting on a rock. He wondered if she waited for him all day… “I’m back. I brought you some fish… are you hungry?”

Jun swam over to her in less than a second, the tan merman placed a large tuna fish in front of her with a smile. The merman then used his muscular forearms to pull his body onto the rock to sit beside her, his gray and white tail curled beside him as he leaned his upper body close to hers.

“You’ll catch a cold in those wet clothes… do you need me to find you something, querida?” Jun asked softly, his clawed fingers running over the damp fabric of her skirts. His tongue clicked in annoyance. “I hadn’t meant to ruin them… I can try to find you something-“

“It’s alright, Jun. Thank you.” (Your name) smiled at Jun, which made the merman beam brightly like the sun. His clawed fingers found themselves affectionately stroking her hair now.

“You’re so sweet, querida… I’m so happy to have saved you.” Jun brought a lock of her hair up to his lips and gave it an affectionate kiss. “I’ll do my best to be a good provider for you… I’m trying to find a way to stay on land longer so I’d be able to keep you safe.”

(Your name) did her best not to shy away from his touch. She had no idea why he was so insistent on keeping her company, but he was helpful. Perhaps Jun was lonely…

Jun ended up spending the rest of the day with her. The merman sharing tales of fighting pirates and other creatures in the sea. But then his eyes got dark when he cast a glance towards the large mountain on the island.

“Meu amor, swear to me you’ll never leave the shore where I can’t reach you.” Jun whispered softly, his hands wrapped around hers. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you if you end up in mister Unchained’s territory…”

“Mister Unchained?” (Your name) tilted her head. It seemed Jun knew another fantastical being on this island… and from the way the other creature sounded, they must be dangerous.

“He’s a vampire that resides in the castle on top of the mountain. He has gone mad since the death of his lover over a century ago.” Jun gave her hands a squeeze. “He hasn’t come out of that castle for years but even then… It’s best to avoid him.”

(Your name) frowned, a part of her feeling sympathy for the poor man. She could not imagine losing a lover and being along for a century… a part of her was curious on what kind of man this Mister Unchained fellow was.

Jun leaned forward and pressed his lips on her cheek. Despite him being on land for awhile, Jun’s lips were still as cold as a fish’s belly.

“I’ll figure something out for us… Just stay close to me.” Jun rested his head on her shoulder, his wavy locks tickling her soft, tender skin. “It’ll all be situated soon.”

(Your name) allows him to touch her in hopes of him not harming her in anyway, but from the way Jun was… she wondered if he saw her as his mate…

Hopefully not. She really wanted off this island.

(Your name) laid in her makeshift hut after Jun finally left, a comfortable fire burning in front of her to keep her warm. Tomorrow she’d look for more wreckage to see if she could upgrade her shelter and maybe even wear some more suitable clothes…

As her eyes fluttered shut into a deep sleep, she failed to realize the vampire bat that shifted into a man in front of her shelter. A giant, muscular man stood before her with a soft look in his eye. A large hand ran across the soft skin of her face, his brown eyes full of awe.

“Now what’s a darling thing like you doing out in a place like this… it’s not suitable for a lady at all.” The man glanced around before her carefully scooped her up into his arms like a bride. A warm smile on his face when she subconsciously snuggled into his arms. “I’ll take you back to my castle… it’s much more suitable for a princess like you…”

The man carefully carried the young woman towards his home, all while she was none the wiser…

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hungryforpowernotfood · 8 months

Text

There Was a Book For That This Entire Time?!

Summary: The reader gets their period & asks Stephen for help, which comes with a little more than expected (sfw)

Warning(s): menstrual/period blood (I have no idea what the quality of this is, I haven't revisited it in so long)

Pairing(s): ftm!stephen strange/ftm!reader (reader can be read as ftnb, but presents & passes as male here)

You woke up earlier than usual with a damp, sticky sensation pressed against you between your legs. You felt yourself tense up at your quick realization of what it was.

You sat in bed for a moment, telling yourself to get up before you were finally able to. The bathroom was connected to your bedroom—as per request—so you didn’t need to risk being seen by anyone. Stephen had been trying to convince you to move into the Sanctum for a while, especially because you practically lived there. He had eventually been able to win you over by offering you a bedroom with your own private bathroom—it was the only luxury he could think of to offer you, the only unique feature any of the rooms had, so you took it.

He always assumed you liked your privacy—you didn’t always study with other people, and you didn’t like meditating around other people at first. He understood the inclination towards independence, so he never questioned you.

You avoided looking in the mirror—you didn’t want to ask to have it taken out because you didn’t want to explain, and you were still learning magic. As soon as you learned a spell for it though, you would have it removed.

You changed in the bathroom after cleaning yourself up, then you did your best to wash the blood out of your clothes. You ran cold water over them, trying to wring out the blood, before eventually just putting them in to soak.

Once you finished, you left, in search of Stephen, or anyone else you could find who could help you get blood out of fabric…and potentially the mattress you may have left a stain on, though you didn’t check.

By now, the stain on your sheet was dry so you would most likely have to resort to magic.

You found Stephen in the library fairly quickly—you were sure he didn’t sleep every night, instead spending some in the library.

“Stephen?” You asked, leaning against one of the shelves.

He only hummed in response, not looking up from his book.

“Are there any spells that can clean blood?”

He looked up and gave you a suspicious look. “Why?”

“I had a nosebleed,” you lied, “I just wanted to clean it up.”

“I can clean it.” He stated, closing the book with one hand. He got up and started walking towards you, you blocked him before he could create a portal, or do anything else.

“Don’t you think I should learn? I get them often, and I’d like to know how to clean them up myself.”

“They can be tricky, but I can show you.” He moved you aside gently with an arm and drew it into a circle—forming a portal and stepping through it before you could object.

“Stephen, it's fine, I don’t need to learn it now.” You objected, but it was too late. He had paused in front of your bed, and you knew he had seen it.

Your heart pounded in your chest and in your ears.

He turned back to face you and gestured for you to step through the portal. Once you did so, he turned back to the bed and cast a spell that cleaned the blood off the bed—letting the portal fall behind you. When he was done, he conjured another portal—a smaller one this time—stuck his hand in, and pulled a book out.

He turned and handed you the book. There were a few sticky notes sticking out of the pages, and the cover looked worn and tattered.

You slowly took the book into your hands, as if you were holding an injured animal—you held all the older books that way.

“The spells for getting menstrual blood and other blood out are different because of the consistency,” He explained, “some of the spells can be a bit tricky. But if you want any help, you know where to find me.”

Stephen winked, and turned, preparing to cast another spell for a portal, when you grabbed his arm, preventing the motion.

“Wait…you’re—”

Stephen nodded. “The Ancient One gave me this book when I first came here. But I know all the spells I need from it, so now you can have it.”

You looked up at him for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. I’ve memorized everything I need from it.”

You nod.

“Oh, and y/n.”

“Hmm?"

He turns to fully face you. “I understand why you didn’t tell me this…but you can come to me with anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

He smiles at you, before drawing an arm in a circle, a portal being created with it, and exiting your room, leaving you alone with the book.

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange #x male reader #x reader #x ftm reader #afab reader #menstruation #fluff #trans ftm #transmasc #ftm stephen strange #trans stephen strange

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your-divine-ribs · 3 months

Text

Ice Cold Part 23

Words: 2.9k

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

"Put your hands where I can see them!" Jason's voice boomed out with furious urgency.

He stood framed in the doorway, a foreboding figure, a portent of disaster, and my heart practically stopped. His arms were outstretched in front of him, braced and gripping his handgun which was trained right on Van.

"That means you too Lyla!"

I ignored Jason's command, stooping down to hurriedly pick up my coat to cover my near-nakedness, slipping into it and fastening it tightly around myself.

"Jason... what..."

"Show me your fucking hands... NOW!"

I raised my hands shakily, looking over at Van who was standing a foot away from me. In contrast to my trembling form he stood, feet slightly apart, hands raised but lackadaisically so, a casual stance. I studied his features, marvelling at his self-possessed demeanour, the hint of a mocking smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. But his eyes... if he was calm waters then they raged with a storm.

"You..." he addressed Jason stonily. "I should have killed you that night in the car park."

A flicker of confusion crossed Jason's face. How was he to know that Van was there that night when he was threatening me? It was quickly replaced with a sneer. "Well too bad you didn't you evil prick. You missed your chance."

Then he looked at me, his eyes dark and full of scorn and malice. "This is fucking perfect. I knew I'd find something... but this..." He shook his head slowly, deliberately, whilst shame stained my cheeks. "Paul is gonna love this... everyone is..."

Van took a step forward, cutting Jason off in his tracks. "I suggest you put the gun down." Then he added, threat deepening his voice. "If you know what's good for you."

Jason was stilled, and I thought for a moment he was actually considering complying, but then a throaty laugh burst from him. "I don't think you're in any position to make demands, do you?"

Jason's eyes darted swiftly around the room, taking in any potential threats, alighting on the rifle lying on the desk right at the far end of the room, then moving down to the knife which was resting at my feet on the floor.

"Kick it over here," he barked, and I did as I was ordered, my head spinning with thoughts, feeling sick to the stomach at being caught and the fear of what might happen to Van.

"How did you know I was here?" I managed, my throat tight, nauseous fear restricting it.

Jason bent down to grab the knife with his free hand, quickly sliding it into the inside pocket of his jacket. His eyes moved swiftly between me and Van, feverish, nervous-looking despite his outward show of confidence.

"You're not as clever as you thought," he scoffed. "Your little story of not finding out anything from Simon didn't wash with me. See... I don't trust you... I never did... and I was right not to. I put a tracker on your car yesterday afternoon at work. You led me right here."

Despite the hostility between the two of us, I realised unwillingly that Jason was actually in the right here. There wasn't just one criminal in the room anymore. A sickly feeling engulfed me as I comprehended what I'd become.

"Is... is anyone else here? Paul? The team?"

Dread filled me at the prospect. Not just for having my traitorous ways exposed, but the awareness that I would have to face whatever punishment would be exacted on me... and I had no one to blame but myself.

Van was quiet, watching on, seemingly cool on the outside, but I knew that just below the surface he was taut, ready to strike, just waiting for his opportunity. I could feel the tension radiating off him, building gradually, and with it my fear and apprehension increased.

I was caught there, an unwilling participant in this deadly stand-off between my alleged enemy who was actually my lover and my supposed ally who had turned out to be my greatest adversary.

Jason lowered his gun slightly, his vicious smirk widening, fully enjoying my fear. "Maybe... maybe not. They could come crashing through that door at any second... or maybe it's just me. Maybe I've got my own plans for you, you dirty little slut."

"Enough!" Van took a step forward, his eyes darker than I'd ever seen them, his jaw clenching, his hands flexing into balled fists as he held them up. "Now you're gonna shut your fucking mouth and put that gun down... and maybe then I'll consider letting you live."

Jason's grin slipped off his face in an instant, and he instinctively shunted backwards, stumbling on the broken door that I'd fallen through. He quickly recovered, righting himself, but just that momentary hesitation allowed Van to step even closer.

My heart was in my mouth as I saw Jason raise the gun higher, the barrel pointing right at Van's head. "Back up! Back the fuck up! Do it or I won't hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes!"

Van started to pace slowly in front of Jason, staring him down intimidatingly, not getting any closer, but not backing away either. Despite Jason being the one with the gun, Van was clearly the bigger threat here. And they both knew it.

An aura of menace was all around him as he taunted Jason. "You can talk the talk alright, but have you really got the balls to see it through? I don't think so."

Jason's sneer looked maniacal now, his skin greasy with a sheen of nervous perspiration. "Go to hell!" He spat.

Van just laughed, and it was a chilling, empty sound with no humour. "Go to hell? Where the fuck do you think I came from, huh?"

I realised that I was shivering uncontrollably, not with the cold, but with a terrifying dread that not everyone in the room would make it through the night. Jason's eyes were bugging out of his head, his frame rigid, his face scarlet with anger.

"Jason... please..." I pleaded helplessly.

"Please what?" He spat, eyes flicking between me and Van again. "Let him go? Let you go? No... not a chance. This is all down to you, you dumb bitch, and now you're gonna pay for it!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" Van snarled, still pacing, his body visibly coiled and ready to react.

"Stay still or I'll put you down!" Jason shouted, the gun jittering dangerously in his hands.

I couldn't take my eyes off his trigger finger which twitched perilously. Droplets of sweat rolled down his forehead and I watched him blinking them out of his eyes, trying to keep his vision clear. The atmosphere in the room was so thick with tension that it was hard to draw a breath.

I could see it all playing out like a movie in my head. Jason losing his nerve and firing off a round, Van dropping to the ground, mortally wounded without me ever having the chance to really know him.

I heard a frightened whimpering noise and realised that it was coming from me. I couldn't stand it any longer, I had to do something.

I hadn't planned on moving. It wasn't a conscious decision. My body reacted entirely independently from my mind as I darted forward, arms outstretched in some pathetically misguided attempt at shielding Van. All I did was push him forward and he veered towards Jason, who reacted to the sudden movement in the exact way that I'd feared, by firing off a shot.

"No!" I cried, spinning my body sideways, the momentum of my fall toppling me straight into the bullet's pathway. It ripped through the left sleeve of my coat and then the flesh of my upper arm on its agonising flight, and I cried out as I fell to the floor, hitting it hard, my head catching on the corner of an overturned desk.

The blow temporarily stunned me and I shook my head as my vision swam and my ears rang. Jason was shouting but it was all background noise to me, all I could hear was Van bellowing my name as he stooped over me.

I felt his strong hands gripping me around the waist, hauling me up, but I resisted. It wasn't the first time that I'd been caught in gun fire and despite the pain searing through my arm I knew it was just a flesh wound. I was more anxious about Jason's nervous state behind as he waved the gun around with increasing hysteria.

"I'm okay, I'm fine... just leave me. For gods sake WATCH OUT!"

The second shot sailed over Van's head but only by centimetres, then it passed through one of the huge panes of glass, shattering a cobweb of slivers across its surface.

Van reacted lightening quick, rising up from his crouched position and lurching at Jason with force. I lay there, gripping my arm, staring up in horror at the chaos that was ensuing above me as I saw that he'd grasped the crowbar off the floor and was swinging it in a wide arc, aiming for Jason's head.

There was the sharp clash of metal on metal as Jason shot out a hand to defend himself and the crowbar caught his gun, knocking it clean from his grip and sending it spinning across the room where it clattered to the floor.

Van was on Jason in a heartbeat, his face twisted in rage, his hands outstretched, both of them locking around Jason's throat. He spat out curses, a murderous light shining in his eyes as he pressed Jason back against the wall. Jason's hands flailed, his eyes bulging.

"Van no!" I cried, terror washing over me, spurring me into action.

I staggered to my feet, reaching for Van with my good arm, trying in vain to pull him away.

"Please stop! Don't do this!" I sobbed, but his grip was vice-like, his arms locked, blind fury radiating from him. It was impossible.

"Don't you tell me he doesn't deserve this!" He roared. "I see the way he looks at you!"

Jason's face was turning a hideous shade of purple, sweat pouring off him in rivulets. The only sounds he could make were wet gasps through his gritted teeth. I had to act. As much as I despised Jason I couldn't stand by and watch whilst Van choked the life right out of him. He was still an agent.

I turned and swiftly made my way across the room, locating Jason's gun on the floor and snatching it up, running hastily back to the fight. I didn't even have time to think, I pressed the barrel into Van's temple with all the force that I could muster.

"Stop it... you're... you're killing him." My voice was desperate, broken by hopeless sobs, knowing that I'd have to make a choice and hating myself for the thoughts that plagued me.

I thought I saw a shadow of emotion cross Van's face but when I blinked it had gone. His eyes were as glassy as blue gems, his jaw set like stone.

Jason's hands hung limply at his sides, a quiet hissing sound only just escaping his swollen lips.

Make the right choice Lyla... for once do the right thing... remember the oath you took...

"Don't make me do this... please..."

I flicked the safety catch off, tears flowing freely down my cheeks. I closed my eyes, trying to drum up some inner strength...

And then I heard a strangled groan and a desperate gasp for breath just a second before I felt pressure on the gun as it was steered away from my target.

My eyes flicked open and Van stood before me, holding the barrel, his fist clamped tight around the muzzle, frustration etched into the angles of his frown, a look in his eyes that was somewhere between resignation and regret.

"You know full well exactly how this goes. If he lives... all of this... me and you... it's over. Finished. You do know that don't you? There'll be no going back."

My attention shifted to Jason who'd slid down to the floor, slumped against the wall. He looked gravely ill and was clawing at his throat, taking laboured breaths like he was about to draw his last.

The reality of my situation came crashing down on me in an instant. This... whatever it was between us... it couldn't last. Our worlds had collided by some stroke of fate, bringing us together, but it wasn't sustainable. There could never be any outcome for us both that didn't lead to some kind of catastrophic resolution and there was no way I could condemn a man to death just for my own selfish desires.

It was over. It had to be. No more lies. No more treacherous liaisons and no more risking everything just to feel the touch of the one man who actually made me feel something in this fucked up world. Now was the time for dealing with the truth. It was out there now and the secret that we both shared was no longer just my sordid little fantasy come true. It would grow steadily as more people found out, and it would just get keep getting bigger and bigger, spreading like some kind of rot, tainting everything that I'd ever touched and anyone that I'd ever known. My spotless record smeared with my lies. Shame on my family, and the agency, and even my poor dad's name.

I tried to stifle the wretched sob that clawed its way up my throat before it broke free but I failed, my eyes locking with Van.

"It's over... it has to be. It's the only way. I can't just stand by and let you kill him in good conscience. When I joined this agency I made an oath. I protect lives, I don’t end them. This is a step too far and it’s one I can't take. I'm so sorry."

I quickly looked away, fearful to see his reaction, my hand dropping from the grip of the gun as I turned towards Jason and crouched down. I was loathe to tend to him but I grudgingly accepted that it was my duty.

Van moved silently across the room, head down, reaching for his rifle which he hastily shoved into a duffel bag.

"I know you don't mean this, I know you. I've not come this far to let you go just like that."

His voice drifted to me from across the room, quiet and weary sounding without his usual strength. It didn't match the vow in his words.

I didn't turn though, I didn't want him to witness the turmoil taking place inside me. It bubbled away under my skin, trying to break its way to the surface, regret so raw that it stung like venom in my veins. I tried to keep my voice steady as I spoke to him.

"You need to go... now... before the others get here."

Jason's face twisted in disbelief as he tried to croak out a protest, but his choked words were incomprehensible. He looked terrible, and a wicked streak in me was relieved for his temporary silencing.

"I'll call you an ambulance," I murmured to him.

I leant in further and he suddenly grasped at the collar of my coat, roughly pulling me forward. I sprawled on to the floor, losing my balance, yelping as I instinctively shot out my injured arm to break my fall and it crumpled beneath me.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" Van shouted as I awkwardly tried to right myself, rolling on to my side, gasping in pain. He quickly shouldered his bag and darted back across the room.

Jason was already trying to rise to his feet, hoarsely trying to spit out threats that his damaged throat would not allow. He swayed unsteadily, supporting himself on the wall with one hand, the other reaching into his jacket to withdraw the knife that he'd taken from me.

Christ... would this nightmare never end?

"Van... you need to go! Please... I'm begging you!"

I implored him, watching as Jason staggered towards him unsteadily with the blade outstretched.

"I'll... fucking... kill you... if it's... the last thing... I do," Jason croaked out.

He was determined to take down his target although it was clear to see that Van could swat him away like a mild annoyance in his heavily injured state. It was actually Jason I feared for the most in that moment. I could see the malevolence glowing in Van's eyes as he stood his ground.

"I'm not leaving you with him," he stated, eyes fixed on me even though Jason loomed ever closer.

"You have to," my voice broke as I struggled to rein in the emotion. "This has got to stop before someone else dies. So many people are dead already. Just go... I can handle it from here. It's the only way."

Finally Van stepped back as Jason lurched towards him, moving just out of his reach. He was shaking his head, his eyes a little wild, his brow crumpled in consternation. "It's not over Lyla... not by a long way..."

And then he backed away completely, blending into the shadows of the stairwell as if he was one of them, or as if he'd never been there at all.

#ice cold #van mccann fanfic #au fanfic #vanfic

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angel-eyes05 · 1 year

Text

bite the hand (chapter 7)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!oc x miguel o’hara

summary: lorena's whole world was taken away from her in the blink of an eye, after she accidentally broke a canon event. lucky for her though, she was able to find a portal watch in her dimension and used it to get out before she glitched out of existence. unfortunately though, running from dimension to dimension, she's been named as an anomaly by the spider society. now, she's constantly on the run from them, their leader in particular. when she eventually gets caught though, she's recruited onto a mission to catch another anomaly who might be from her past. to her dismay though, her partner on this mission is her very captor. will she be able to stop arguing with him for long enough to get the job done?

info: enemies to lovers, maybe a slow burn depending on chapter count, oc is 24 and miguel is 27, both oc and miguel are super sad lmao, they're also both super violent so, they also hate each other what a slay, in regards to my oc you can read her character sheet right here

warnings: there might be spoilers for atsv in this so watch the movie before reading this, blood description, angst but with comfort this time yippie

word count: 1.5k

notes: i lied that i didnt post this chapter soon after 6 LMAO sorry im a procrastinator

-----------------

The antique shower head spurted out water in clumps as Lorena turned the dial on after calming herself down. She went to feel the temperature after letting it run to get warmer for a second.

Freezing cold.

She groaned to herself. Whatever, she thought to herself.

The bloody, sweaty, purple fabric stuck to her skin as she tried to peel her suit off of her body, almost if it was merging with her. It was all she new how to be now. Without a home, without a family, this was all her identity was at this point. A Spider-Man with no city to protect. Pathetic.

Once her suit was off, she was able to get a better measure of her injuries. The dried up blood connecting her skin together made it even more painful to move her leg and arm. She used the cold shower water to scrub off the concoction of sweat and blood on the bullet holes. Even though she normally hated cold showers, Lorena was just happy to wash herself off. This was probably the first time she had a shower in weeks, constantly being on the run. The past couple of weeks rolled off of her skin with the droplets of water. The dirt that had knotted itself into her scalp made its way down the drain.

After she shut off the water, she realized that the only clothes she had with her right now was her dirty suit. She just settled for the stained robe that laid sloppily folded in the compartment under the sink. She then filled the bathtub up with water, cleaning her suit with the limited amount of soap in the shower, and hanging it on the shower pole to dry.

Just as she was about to open the door to leave though, she paused. Right. It had been so quite she forgot he was even there. She didn’t want to look at him. Not after what he said to her. Not after admitting to what he did. Part of her felt bad for bursting out on him like that after he opened up to her, but she was too blinded by anger to care.

With the bathtub still wet, and her suit dripping into it, she gave up and just decided to sleep on the rug. She wasn’t sure of the time, but she was too worn out to stay awake, as she drifted to sleep on the uncomfortable tile.

A nightmare similar to the one a few nights ago disturbed her from her sleep, as the cold floor sent shivers through her body. Her reach for a towel underneath the sink for extra warmth proved to be in vain when she realized there weren’t any left.

Remembering how Miguel had found extra towels from the hallway connecting the main room to the bathroom, she quietly creaked open the door to make her way there. She assumed Miguel was asleep, so she was fine walking out there. Just as long as he didn’t wake up. She turned off the bathroom light before opening the door to ensure he stayed asleep.

Pitch black consumed the outside room. The tossing sound of the bedsheets was made by Miguel, sleeping silently. Lorena quietly made her way to the closet, using her hands to feel around the walls for the handle. As she worked in the dark, she kept her ears open for any sounds Miguel would make, signaling that he might be waking up. Once she found the handle, she carefully slid the wooden door open. To her dismay though, creeks and squeaks rattled through the room as she moved the door. She stopped for a second, her eyes darting over to the bed. All she heard was more tossing. She let out a breath of relief.

Instead of trying to continue to open the door, she instead stuck her hand inside the crevice she created. She whispered little curses under her breath as she wiggled her hand inside the closet.

“Would you just sleep in the bed instead?”

She froze, then sighed, ignoring him. She fully opened up the door this time, no longer caring about the noise it would make. “It’s big enough for the both of us,” he insisted again. “No, O’Hara,” she said, heading back for the door. Once she opened it though, the bright light of one of his laser webs shot past her pulled it shut. She whipped her head around to see his face, slightly illuminated by the glow. “Please?” he wished softly. She rubbed her face with her hands. The floor was uncomfortable.

She drowsily made her way over to the bed and climbed into it with her back turned to him. Even with Miguel scooting over to the very edge, his body took up most of the space. As much as she wanted to wiggle away and keep the space between them, she couldn’t get very far without almost falling off the bed. She had to admit though, the heaviness of the quilts warmed her up almost instantly. And it also helped that Miguel was basically a heater.

The both of them sat in silence for a while, despite them both being awake. Then, Miguel decided to break it.

“I’m sorry.”

It was weak, mixed with the drowsiness of his voice and the loss of previous charm and confidence.

“Me too,” Lorena repeated back after a while.

Silence again.

“You’re not a coward,” he said as if he’s been thinking about it since their argument.

“And you’re not a hypocrite,” she said back, even though she still believed it slightly.

…

“You were awake when I first opened the door, weren’t you?” she asked after some time.

“Yes. You were too?”

“Wasn’t tired.” Liar

A soft, low hm came from his mouth.

Lorena turned around to face him. “How about this. To get ourselves sleepy, I’ll ask you a question about yourself, and you ask a question about me. Ok?”

He took a moment to think. “Okay.”

“Ok, I’ll go first. What’s the deal with your suit? Is it a hologram or something?” she said quickly, as if she had been waiting to ask him that for a while. He chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Not exactly. It’s more of a molecular-nanotech sort of situation. It’s made so my claws don’t rip through the fabric. But no, it’s not made from fabric like most variants do.”

“Woah. That’s super cool,” she said in awe. “Okay your turn.” Miguel made a thinking sound as he sat. “Where’s your family from?”

“My parents were born and raised in Mexico, had me in Cuba, and then moved to New York after my aunt and uncle went there first.”

“That’s…confusing. But my mom’s from Mexico too.”

“But your last name…?”

“My dad’s Irish.”

“Ohhhhh. That makes sense.”

Their back and forth questions continued on for what seemed like hours. “Okay okay, give me a serious question now,” Miguel asked her, in the middle of a laugh. She took a moment to think to herself. “Do you remember those little kids on Earth-1732?” He gave a small nod. “The little girl…you seemed upset after I made a joke about you and kids. It was because of your daughter, right?” she asked hesitantly. He took a deep breath. “Yes.” They were both silent for a little bit. “How do you do it?” “Do what?” he asked, confused. “Keep going after losing someone like that. After seeing reminders of them everywhere you go,” she said, her face partially hiding in the pillow. “I assume you’re talking about Eddie?” She nodded.

…

“You don’t forget.” She looked up into his eyes. “You keep going by not forgetting them. By doing the things you know they would want you to do. And they would want you to keep going. By moving on, while still keeping them in the back of your head. It’s what I know Gabi would want for me…and I’m sure it’s what Eddie would’ve wanted for you.” Embarrassment flooded her body as she tried to hide the tears coming out from her eyes. “I just…I don’t know how I’m going to be able to face him again after what I did,” she said shakily through her tears.

What Miguel did next surprised her enough to get her to stop crying for a second. What were once muscular, dangerous weapons shifted into soft pillows as she was wrapped into his body in an embrace. She quickly hugged him back, tightly, and sobbed into his chest. He rested his head on top of hers as he felt her body shake beneath him.

Up until now, he had kept his distance whenever he saw her visibly upset. Previously, it was due to his detest for her. Then, it was due to her feelings. He feared. Feared that getting too close to her would end up in disaster, due to his suspicions that she still carried feelings for her past lover. But now, he didn’t care. Miguel just wanted to be there for her.

Her second round of crying today took up the rest of the energy she had, putting her fast asleep while still in his arms. Her soft, light breaths tickled his arm hairs, as he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. He even gathered the courage to give her a small peck on her forehead. “Que duermas bien mi querida,” he whispered softly to her, before quickly following her into slumber underneath the heavy quilts.

-----------------

NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: its short but its cute...take appreciation for it now cause it will be painful in a few chapters lmao

taglist: @the-ikran-man @jenniferdixon05207 @yuuuumii @elwyn7 @waniesss @lust-for-pan @natthernandez @pix-stuff @ang3lf4c3 @artfulthoughtswp

#miguel o'hara x oc #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara #into the spider verse #fanfic #spiderman across the spiderverse #fanfiction #spiderverse #oc x miguel o'hara #spiderman oc #spiderverse oc #spiderman #spidersona

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greenbird809 · 9 months

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Ever wonder what it's like to drown? Story of opposites. There's peace in water. Like it's holding you, whispering in low tones to let it in. And every problem in the world will fade away. But then, there's this thing... in your head, and it's raging. Lighting every nerve with madness.

The river was calm, gentle as it glistened in the pale moonlight. But it was cold. Jinx hissed and retracted her toe from its reflective surface.

She stood on the bank, fickle blades of grass tickled and stained her soles with dew. Her clothes lay in a messy pile beside her and the air was sharp against her naked ashy skin. The smell of ripe fruit from a nearby berry bush swirled and blended with the pollen in the air as it wafted up her nostrils with every sharp inhale. She wrapped her arms around her middle like a blanket.

What was she doing? Washing away her sins? Drowning? Saving lives by removing a problem?

With another ragged breath, she plunged her foot into the water. It came up to her knee and felt like being swallowed. She pushed further into the river until it was licking against her collarbone. A shiver wracked her body and a gasp escaped her lips. The voices were like static and she could almost see Silco standing opposite her, his image fuzzied and faded like a recording on a scratched disk. His eyes were full of care as he beckoned her further into his embrace and-

“What are you doing?”

Jinx paused and Silco was gone. She sniffled and craned her neck back towards the bank to see Lux stood there with her arms crossed. The blonde was wearing nothing but a loose white t-shirt and pyjama shorts. Her hair messied from bundling up against her pillow whilst she slept.

“I don't know,” Jinx answered candidly, “When I felt… confused… Silco would always help me find who I was.”

Lux’s expression softened, “And now?”

Pain flashed across Jinx’s face and she subconsciously brought her hands together in front of her, “Now he's gone, and I'm alone, again. And it's all my fault, again.”

“I can't say what is and isn't your fault. But I can say you're not alone anymore,” Lux said, stepping out of her shorts and taking her shirt off, “I'm here now. Forever and always.”

Jinx could do nothing except watch in fascination as Lux discarded the clothes into a pile next to hers and took the plunge into the freezing water fearlessly. Lux reached out and took a hold of Jinx’s hands, offering comfort.

“I'm a jinx. I'm a problem, and we both know it. I'm going to mess everything up again,” She nestled her head into Lux’s shoulder, “I-I’m sorry.”

“It's okay,” Lux whispered, “I've got you. Anything you need.”

“I don't know why I muck it all up. I don't wanna. I only wanna help,” Her voice was hardly more than a muffle into the other girl’s skin. “Please…”

“You're helping. You help me everyday. Without you, I would have fallen apart by now. You've given me hope again and without you, well, I think this village would be a little bit darker,“ Lux continued, “Those kids you created those toys for? Did you know they've been hounding poor Mira to ask if you can teach them how to make their own?”

“They have?” Jinx hated the way her voice cracked.

Lux smiled and held Jinx in front of her, “Yeah.”

“I don't want to jinx it any more.” She confessed.

The mage smiled, “What did Silco use to do?”

Jinx chuckled breathlessly with tears blurring her vision, “He’d give me some big dumb speech about becoming who I was always supposed to be. How I need to let go and be reborn anew. He'd dip me under the water and…”

“You're free here. You can become who you want to become here. Who do you want to be, Jinx?”

“... I want to belong. I want to be Powder. But Powder is gone now. I'm all that's left. Jinx stands for Jinx,” She smiled, broken, “I'm perfect.”

Lux shook her head, “No, you're not who he said you are. You're Jinx, you're my Jinx.”

“Blondie…”

Jinx felt Lux’s hand on her cheek and she grabbed it softly. A thumb wiped away her tear tracks. “You're my light.”

They stared into each other’s eyes, peering through them and into their exposed souls. Jinx rested her forehead against the other’s, and their noses bumped as their mouths connected. They closed their eyes and melted into each other.

The link between them felt like electricity and fire running through her veins. She couldn't quantify the feeling as anything other than love. And as they parted, Lux’s hand remained tangled within her blue hair and she tenderly lowered her into the water.

With a final look into Lux’s loving eyes, Jinx closed her own and the water swallowed her once again.

Underneath, the voices were quiet and she realised who she was. This village and Lux, her sunshine, had wormed into her heart in such a short time with their openness and friendliness. They were good people and she cared for them all like they were family.

And she would protect them all. She would jinx any that would dare to rob her of this feeling ever again.

Lux pulled her back from the water, reborn, and into a hug that she returned instantly. Jinx stands for protector.

Ever wonder what it's like to love? There's peace in love. Like it's holding you, whispering in low tones to let it in. And every problem in the world will fade away.

And it will.

#jinx arcane #lux league of legends #fanfic #fluff and angst #arcane #lightcannon

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triscribeaucollection · 2 years

Text

Divided by Deception, But Together We Must Rise

( Posted here on AO3, latest in my What-If AU series. Because I clearly don’t have enough time travel fics yet... )

---

If he thinks hard, Cody can remember Kamino. Vaguely. The white walls, at least, and the deep, muffled roar of rain coming down hard on the windows. Sometimes a half-there sense of needing to do better, be better, or else something terrible would happen; but whenever that feeling swells, he just needs to find a Jedi and it washes away again, cold water replaced by warm light. It never really matters which Jedi, either, just- someone wrapped in the Force, who can spread it out a little, with a soft smile and an easy touch.

The Knights rotate every couple of months, some going out into the galaxy to help people, others coming back to rest and center themselves once more. There are a few older Masters who don’t actually leave the planet, but move between the three Holdfasts where Cody and all his siblings live. More Jedi live at the Temple of Peace, up on top of the mountain, including the actual Force-sensitive younglings and Initiates - batches of them come down a couple times each tenday, to play with friends or train on the Holdfast obstacle courses.

When Cody and the rest of the clones finish growing up, it’ll be their job to protect the Temple, and all the Jedi inside it. On Kamino, they were supposed to become soldiers, trained for war and battle. Here, instead, they’re learning diplomacy and negotiation as well as combat, so that they won’t just serve the Jedi but truly work with them.

It could have been quite different, some of the Masters say, if we had not found you when we did.

---

When a Jedi dies, there is a ripple in the Force. A mark of their passing.

When thousands of Jedi die within moments of each other, betrayed and horrified and so many of them crying out, those ripples become a tidal wave.

Time is linear. The Force is not. Two unknown Jedi meet, and warm to each other in a moment, cheered by the future echoes of the friendship that is to come. A Knight discovers a youngling, and there is joy, comfort, a Padawan bond not yet made announcing its presence.

Time is linear. The Force is not. Death, pain, misery - these things linger in place, the Dark Side refusing to let go, instilling cold and wariness in all who tread the same spot years later. Anger leaves a stain; deadly rage even more-so.

Time is linear. The Force is not.

---

None of the clones are more than three years old when nearly two hundred Jedi Knights and Masters descend upon Kamino. They don’t stay long enough to turn four.

---

There are stirrings of discontent in the Senate, whispers of secession. Politicians focus on their spheres of influence, either to further fan those flames or put them out, intent upon the future of the Republic.

No one notices the Jedi Temple slowly quieting.

By the time they do, by the point that enough calls fail to be answered that a Senator visits in person, the entire Order is gone. From the oldest Master to the youngest crecheling; the refectories and training halls, the numerous gardens and the vast Archives, the Healing Halls and private quarters; all gone. All empty. Equipment moved, vegetation potted and carried off, personal belongings vanished. Not a single Jedi remains, nor any clue as to where they went.

Newly-elected Supreme Chancellor Palpatine dies mere days later.

Two shocks, back to back, and of course the conspiracy theories immediately take flight. Could the Jedi have prevented the assassination, if they’d still been on Coruscant? Had they left because they foresaw the Chancellor’s demise, and wished to avoid the political nightmare that arose afterward? Were they perhaps involved in the freak speeder collision that resulted in his gruesome death?

No one knows for certain. But that hardly keeps them from gossiping all hours of the day, at least until the next scandal: Mas Amedda caught trying to blackmail votes for his ascension to Chancellor, and another Senator revealed to be bribing her way into power, raising hue and cry from all factions of government. Some planetary systems take the opportunity to announce their secession from the Republic entirely, several corporate entities all too happy to support them, and Coruscant becomes an even bigger mess than usual.

---

Elsewhere in the galaxy, ten thousand Jedi and one million clones settle upon their new home. An old Temple restored, new Holdfasts built around it. A few mercenaries who were meant to be combat trainers accompany them; other instructors are found through careful searching, sentients who enjoy putting together lessons on mathematics, reading comprehension, art and science and music.

The Jedi are never completely without friends, after all. And many of those friends, relieved to be allowed to know of the Order’s relocation, are all too happy to provide whatever help they can for the move, as well as what comes after.

---

“Hi, Obi-wan!” Cody drops from the climbing wall and lands in a roll, popping back up with a wide grin. “Oh- and hello, Senator.”

“Just Bail is fine, Cody,” the Alderaani man chuckles. “I’m hardly on duty at the moment, after all. How high up were you, just now?”

“Only a few meters, before I dropped. But I was coming back down! You should’ve seen me all the way at the top, a minute ago.”

Obi-wan hums, glancing up towards the bells situated at the highest point of the wall, even as another cadet reaches them and rings one gleefully. “Very impressive. I wonder, though, if you might be willing to take a break and provide us with some assistance?”

Automatically, Cody straightens up and lifts his chin. “Of course!”

It turns out not to be too terribly impressive - not a mission, or anything dangerous. Senator Bail needs to speak to Master Windu about an ongoing project, but none of the Jedi up at the Temple knew for certain where he’d gone, besides ‘down to Holdfast-One’. Still, Cody gets to put his command skills to work, nabbing all the nearest groups of brothers and directing them to spread out in a search grid. Soon enough a trio comes racing back, eager to report they found Windu, asleep with half a dozen of the littlest cadets in the lower garden.

Obi-wan and Bail aren’t all that willing to wake the older Jedi up, insisting they can wait for him to emerge on his own. So, instead, Cody does his level best to coax them into joining him and his batchmates for a round on the obstacle course. It turns into a hilarious afternoon, Obi-wan setting aside some of his natural grace to try and help Bail along the rolling-logs, only for both of them to slip and fall in the mud underneath. Fox laughs himself silly, so of course Cody trips him into the same pit, only for Wolffe to shout and tackle Cody, and then Ponds jumps in and it all turns to chaos in seconds.

When Master Windu eventually turns up with a toddler still dozing on his shoulder, he does not look impressed by thirty-odd cadets and half as many Jedi Initiates absolutely covered in mud, Bail and Obi-wan standing right in the middle with perfectly serene expressions on their faces.

But then Master Windu looks straight at Cody, and says calmly, “I do hope you were able to shove a handful of mud down Master Kenobi’s tunics, cadet,” and everything explodes a second time.

---

If he thinks hard, Cody can remember Kamino.

He doesn’t bother very often.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #commander cody #time travel #fan fiction #obi-wan kenobi #bail organa #mace windu #canon divergence

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dazyskiie-luv · 2 years

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Hiiii how are youuuu?

for anyone that wants to write it but Moondrop helping with gender issues? (AFAB but questioning how they really feel. Any pronouns is good!)

Hello! Goodmorning, I'm personally okay! How are you? I hope you're okay as well!

I'll be writing this one! ☀️

Afab Reader -> GN Reader ..not much that I could do with this since I personally don't know a lot about compliments (I accept any and all compliments!!) so I hope I did well enough!!

You were trying to wash off remains of soda from your shirt, some weirdo thought it'd be a good idea to pour their drink on you as you were cleaning up a table.

Grumbling at the fact that the stain is still visible, you tried to find something else to help but stopped to look at yourself in the mirrior, you still felt uncomfortable with your body, like it isn't yours.

Slowly you stopped moving your hands and let them sit idly in the sink with your shirt.

'Why are you thinking about how you look now? It's unprofessional.' You thought bitterly, a frown starting to form on your face. 'But..' you trailed off, looking down your body, grimacing. "...Why do I suddenly feel so wrong?" You lightly touched your chest, pulling at the bra strap, "Why does this feel wrong?"

You sighed, tearing up slightly, "I don't get it." you muttered, turning your torso sideways before standing straight in frustration again, "I always feel wrong when I look in a mirror..." you looked down, your grip on your stained shirt tightening.

You thought about the times where you felt envious of those who weren't a girl and the times where you'd feel upset at being called pretty or beautiful because of how people mean it, but you're perfectly happy being a girl, aren't you?

Sighing again, you looked back up and flinched violently at the sight of moon behind you where light didn't hit. "Oh my f— Moon, how long were you there?" You turned around, having a hand over your heart. You saw him tilt his head and look away, raising a hand that held paper.

You stepped forward a bit to read it, 'Long enough, do you need a ear?' was written neatly, "Uh, no it's alright moon." You said, unsure of yourself as you went back to washing your shirt, "Thank you for the offer though."

You heard a grumble before the lights went out and footsteps got closer, "Moon, I'm serious..." You whispered, still unsure as moons eyes lit up your surroundings. "So am I." He whispered, putting his hands on your shoulders and getting closer.

You could hear the inside of him humming lowly, making you unknowingly relax as you slowly stopped washing your shirt again, "I..." You started, "I just... don't know what my gender is, is all." "Do you want to try out different terms then?" He asked, crouching down to place his head on your shoulder, "We can do that." Moon said, making you look at the mirror in front of you, "We can do anything for the handsomest person here." He whispered into your ear, looking back at you in the mirror. You smiled slowly, "Thank you for not judging, moon." You muttered, seeing his smile seemingly grow bigger, "Of course, anything for you." "Do you have a name you wish to use?" He asked quietly, you shook your head no, "Not yet..." You admitted while looking down at your shirt once more to turn the faucet off and wring the water out of the fabric, "When I do have one, you two will be the first to know." You said, leaning into moon's cold body as he hummed. "Take the time you need, lovely."

#The daycares room ☆ SUN #moondrop x reader #fnaf x reader #security breach x reader #x reader #afab -> gender neutral #I'M SORRY THAT IT'S KINDA SHORT...(is it???) OR JUST SEEMS HALF DONE I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE...

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linkedkeysau-official · 2 years

Text

Linked Keys Febuwhump

Day 24- Bloody Clothes

“Come on…” Hyrule groaned, scrubbing furiously at his ruined green tunic and brown undershirt as he stood thighs-deep in a river somewhere in Four’s world, desperately trying to wash the blood off. Thankfully Future had managed to portal the Chain out of Hyrule’s era not long after “the incident”, so Hyrule was at least somewhat safer now, and free to take it easy and try to recover without having to worry about the monsters of his world sniffing him out. The problem was, his only set of clothing— save for his easily-mended shorts and his tough leather armor that doubled as a binder— had been ripped to shreds and soaked in his blood. Legend had said he might be able to fix it, but Hyrule refused to wear it until it was thoroughly cleaned; otherwise he’d be like a homing beacon to monsters.

Unfortunately, his clothes seemed to be stained beyond repair. He’d been at this for hours, scrubbing with every kind of soap the others had and would lend him, scrubbing until his hands were raw and his legs went numb in the cold water. The red had stopped coming out of it a while ago, but the stains were still there, and Hyrule wanted to cry. These were the only clothes he had, he couldn’t just burn them. But he had to either clean them or get rid of them, and if they weren’t coming clean…

“STUPID—!!!” He cried out in frustration, flinging his wet clothes onto the riverbank before sitting down in the shallow water in utter defeat.

“Rulie? You’re still over here?” Legend asked, approaching slowly from behind so as to not startle his friend. Hyrule’s reply was nothing more than a poorly muffled sob.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Legend sat on the bank next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Talk to me, Rulie.” Hyrule reached over and grabbed the bundle of wet clothes he’d just tossed aside.

“Look at this. They’re ruined.”

“Yeah, blood is… notoriously hard to wash out of clothes. Why do you think I wear so much red with other dark colors?”

“Yeah but these are the only clothes I have. Now they’re ruined and I don’t have anything else, so I can’t just get rid of them but I can't wear them anymore either,so what am I supposed to do?!” Hyrule wailed.

“You don’t have any other clothes?” Legend asked in disbelief. Hyrule shook his head.

“You should have told me! I have a spare tunic with me— One that actually boosts defense, too, which I bet you could use. You and I are about the same size, so it should fit.” Legend stood up and offered a hand to pull Hyrule up as well, “Come on, this water’s freezing. Come sit by the fire and I’ll find it for you.”

“You really don’t have to… I could probably just… borrow a cloak or something from Wild. It’d be a little small but he’s got more—”

“Oh my gods, Rulie! Stop. I’m lending you my defense tunic, end of story. Geez, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were trying to guilt-trip me!” Legend huffed.

“I-I’m not trying to guilt trip you, I swear! I w-was just saying…”

“I know, and that’s why I said ‘if I didn’t know better’. Seriously, you worry so much about everything. You really need to… What did Future call it…?”

“Take a chill pill?”

“Exactly. Take a chill pill.” The two had made it back to camp and Legend was now digging through his pouch, “And go put this on.” He handed over a wad of blue fabric.

“This… looks like a dress…” Hyrule commented without thinking. Great, now he was sounding ungrateful. But he really, really didn’t want to look like a girl…

“It’s just until we can get you some new clothes, okay? Besides, do any of us not look like we’re wearing dresses?” Legend smirked, earning him a sharp scowl from Warriors and a laugh from Wild. Even Hyrule couldn’t help but giggle,

“Fair point…”

#linked keys #lk #loz au #not lu #febuwhump2023 #mod kj #lk legend #lk Hyrule

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maplepropertysolutions · 1 year

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5 Summer House Cleaning Tips

Use these 5 tips to keep your house clean this summer. Although the weather’s nice and the sun is shining, summer often presents some unique messes. From grass stains to dollops of melted ice cream, summer can be challenging – unless you know the tricks of the trade. Use these five tips to keep your house cleaning and organized throughout the hot season. 1. Bathroom Remind everyone to keep a window open or the fan on during every shower to prevent humidity (which is the perfect environment for mold) Go through what’s in the shower rack and under the sink. Toss out any empty bottles and take inventory of things you need (sunscreen for instance) Wipe down any surfaces that accumulate moisture right after you use them in order to prevent hard-water stains and mildew 2. Patio/Deck Furniture Cleaning the patio is simple! You only need 30 minutes and a little elbow grease, and you’ll be on your way. Clean your patio furniture, spray with water, scrub with a solution of water and Dawn Ultra Dish Soap, and then use a soft brush to work the cleaner into any dirt. Or try a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser for stubborn scuffs and dirt. Check cushions for laundering instructions. If you find any rust on metal furniture, sand it down and rinse it off. This might require multiple rounds depending on how much rust there is. 3. Laundry Room The key to prepping the laundry room for a summer full of washing, drying and folding grass-stained T-shirts and shorts is organization. Check out our full laundry room organization guide. Clear the laundry room of empty bottles and boxes that may have accumulated, and be sure to pack away any cold-weather clothing Since summer presents an entirely different set of stains you’d encounter in most other seasons (condiments, ice cream, grass, dirt) before you sort by whites and colours, sort clothes by those you need to pre-treat and those you don’t. 4. Kitchen Hot temperatures cause a stinky reminder that this is a great time to give your garbage can a scrub down Get into the nitty gritty of everything else in the kitchen – like appliances. Toasters are easy, but appliances that see heavier use, like a microwave, may need a little more attention 5. The Pantry Throw away the expired or “why-did-I-buy-this?” kinds of foods Organize all the usable items for easy access. Keep everyone from rummaging for something in the very back of the pantry and knocking everything over in the process!

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prism-empurress · 1 year

Text

oh right the next partial chapter of "The Vanishing of the Green Wood's Witch"

SPOILERS AHEAD.

----

I saw her through the scope of my rifle. She was utterly miserable and lost without me. But I couldn't go to her.

Behind trembling lips was a stone cold façade.

I couldn't do anything to get her attention. I couldn't write a letter, leave a key to the basement of the cabin, or be seen.

She wasn't ready for the truth, nor would she be, for a while.

I had to abandon everything for their safety.

Damnit. My eyes were watering again. I hated every aspect of this job, but sickeningly enough, it was satisfying at the same time. Like scrubbing a stubborn stain in the bathroom sink until no traces of it remained.

I was scrubbing the world, one festering stain at a time. And I was thorough.

I've had to clean multiple stains in my past. I never left any evidence behind, combing through every square inch to ensure nobody suspected a thing.

Now it was my job. A job I never wanted or desired but was thrust upon me regardless.

I hated my boss with every cell of my being. How I wanted to turn my rifle against him. How I would relish in his bloodshed, and send every part of him down the drain. But that would poison the water supply.

On the other hand, I could burn him alive... but the smoke plumes would be toxic.

Once I find the perfect way to dispose of him and scrub him off the face of Eden, then this planet would know peace. Then I could go back home. Back to the only family I'd ever known.

But that was wishful thinking.

"Princess," my earpiece fizzled, "That's not your assignment."

"I know." I hissed back. "I just wanted to see her."

"I can see your every move. You're not even close to your mission."

I rolled my eyes, "I know, Memphis."

"Focus. Or the deal is off."

My hands itched for his throat. I put the rifle down, and felt around in my bag. Pulling out the manila folder, I opened it up to see my current assignment.

Charles Paul. A reptillian fellow with a unique party trick. I was never told WHY these people were chosen to die, all I got for their data was their name, age, height, weight, relatives, and routine.

Some assignments were easy, like those with nut allergies. Others had to be taken care of discreetly, like politicians or celebrities. The third category of assignments required... special attention. Those assignments were somewhat coaxed to complete themselves. No clean up necessary. Regardless, there was still blood on my hands. Those were stains that would NEVER wash out.

I was tainted before, I'm even more putrid now. I never wanted anybody to see me like this.

Lady Greenfyre is dead. All that remains is Princess Sandman.

Folktails and rumors were circulating about the work I did. Whenever I accidentally got sloppy, I could always pin the blame on someone else before I vanished.

But sloppiness was never tolerated. Every time I was sloppy, a knuckle was broken. I've had three knuckles broken so far since I started my new life. My third knuckle had fully recovered, so I didn't want to get sloppy again.

#vanishing of the green woods witch #my writing

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tabletopwhumper · 2 years

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Wounded

A bad turn with The Ancients leaves Ali and Tim afraid for their brother. TW for gang violence, description of blood, profanity

“Hey Sprog, can you come give me a hand?” Ali looks up from the armor on the desk to see her troll brother lingering in the office door.

“Two minutes. If I don’t finish fixing Fergal’s auto injectors before they get back I’m gonna hear about it.” Tim nods before heading back toward the bar’s common area. It only takes another few moments before the injector is ready and Ali heads out to help her brother.

The Last Round is almost deserted. Though considering it’s still daylight and the lack of Knights on hand Ali isn’t surprised. The guys had all taken off on “business” earlier in the day, leaving a new guy she doesn’t know and Weaver to keep an eye on things. A few regulars had been in but without the bulk of the Red Knights the bar seems desolate.

Tim gestures to her from across the room, a crate of shiny new glasses parked neatly on the bar’s polished surface. “All these gotta get washed before we can use ‘em,” he explains.

“C’mon Timmy, dishwashing?” Ali grouses even as she begins filling the sink with water.

“Heh, welcome to my hell kid.”

“Does Ferga-”

The front doors bursting open halts whatever question she had been about to ask. Fergal leads a grim procession through the empty bar. Fatback, Jens, Steve 2… and between the Armenian and former racer Ali spies the limp and bloodied form of her human brother, the shirt beneath Jordan’s leather jacket stained an alarming shade of red. Fear settles in her stomach like a stone. Not the same fiery angry sort of fear she’d felt hiding in the cooler from ravaging Ancients. No, this is a heavy thing. Cold. The sort of deep aching chill that she last felt rooted in her bones one sunny afternoon almost four years ago…

“Dad’s not coming, Ali.”

A silent signal from Fergal pulls Tim and the somber parade toward the back of the building, leaving Ali paralized in the empty bar. The room spins. Her hands are shaking. She’s stunned. And confused. But above all, so very afraid. Indecision pulls her in different directions as her thoughts frantically scramble to order the chaos. Call somebody quickly transitions to grab a medkit before Jordan might be dead screeches through her mind. The possibility that her big brother just disappeared into the safehouse and may never walk out again sets fire to Ali’s panic and spurs her frozen legs to move.

Heading quickly down the hall it’s easy to follow the commotion that leads upstairs. Fergal and Tim are removing what’s left of Jordan’s shirt, revealing the four bloody bullet wounds underneath.

“Get Chucky over here,” Fergal snaps but Fatback is already on his commlink.

Tim is bent over the still form of his twin, applying pressure with what look like bar towels. “What the hell happened?” he growls.

“Bloody Ancients. Long story.”

Tim’s gaze turns positively murderous. “You get the fucker that did this?”

“Not yet. But I promise you lad: we will.”

Fatback ends his call to Chuck and turns back to where his brothers gather. “Doc’s on his way. Says to-” The enforcer’s words die in his throat as his eyes land on Ali standing in the door. Her troll brother glances toward her and she’s alarmed to see that he is scared.

But before Ali can ask any of the billion questions on her lips or offer any sort of help Tim’s eyes find Jens. “Keep her out of here,” he murmurs.

“C’mon Sprog,” Jens says gently as he steps in front of her, blocking her view and steering her back toward the bar. “You don’t need to see this.”

“See what?” she finally manages to croak. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t-”

“Who shot Jordan?”

“I’m not-”

“Is he gonna be okay??”

Jens sighs. “We’ll know more once Chuck gets here.”

“But-”

“Just wait for the doc Ali.”

So she waits, pacing the length of the bar as the remaining Knights file in and The Round is put on lockdown. Chuck is the first to arrive but is ushered urgently back to where Ali knows Jordan lies bleeding, leaving her alone with her fears once more. At one point she creeps up the hall, desperately listening for any bit of news. Pieces of conversation echo off the walls and it’s easy for her to pick out Tim’s deep growl and Fergal’s accent.

“I promise you,” the MC’s leader swears, “we’ll get the bastard that did this. If you want to ride with us-”

“No,” comes the gravelly reply.

“This is different Timmy. Personal. There’s no reason-”

“Ali. I can’t leave her by herself. And if Jordan…” his voice trails off and Ali feels the chasm in her chest deepen. “I can’t.”

“Aye. I understand lad.”

Creeping back toward the bar, Ali decides she absolutely does not want to hear anymore. The images in her mind are far too vivid already: Jordan silent and unmoving on bloodstained bedding, Tim holding her as she sobs, Fergal’s oaths of vengeance against the son of a bitch that killed their brother…

Steve sits at the bar with Weaver. As Ali approaches he offers a sympathetic grimace. But before he can offer any sort of condolences or sympathy that she absolutely is in no mood to hear, she holds out a hand. "Give me your gun."

Steve's eyes go wide at her request. "What?? Why?!"

"I just…" Ali bites down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep her tears from spilling over. "I need something to do. Please?" The Armenian eyes her warily, but surrenders his pistol all the same. Taking a seat in the booth beside the hallway Ali strips, cleans, and reassembles the weapon. By the time she's finished it's damn near factory new. But fear adds haste to her movement and when Ali returns the pristine firearm to Steve 1 she's dismayed to find that not nearly as much time has passed as she hoped.

"How can they not know anything yet?!" she moans, burying her face in her hands.

"Easy," Steve counsels with a gentle pat on her shoulder. "Give Chuck time to work."

“Could you?” The question comes out quiet. Ali finds she doesn’t have the wherewithal to hide her fears as she looks up at her friend sitting beside her. “If it was your brother all shot up in the next room? Could you be patient?”

Steve’s shoulders droop but she doesn't miss the way his eyes flick to where his older brother sits with Wattz.

“Ali?” Alison jumps to her feet to face Tim standing behind her. His shirt is bloodstained, his eyes strained. “Come here a sec.” Her brother gently steers her toward the stairs she had been exiled from but stops before she can go up. “Don’t know how much you saw-”

“Is Jordan okay?!”

Tim nods slowly. “He will be. Got hurt pretty bad but the doc says he’ll be okay. He needs meds and some time in bed to rest.”

“Can I see him?”

“He’s sedated. Means he’s sleeping and won’t be awake for a while.”

“I don’t care. I just… I need to see him.” For a moment Ali is sure he’ll refuse. But after a moment to consider Tim nods, seeming to understand her need, and silently let's her pass.

Her eyes find Jordan easily on the small cot in the corner of the safehouse. His bloodstained shirt and jacket have been discarded, replaced with various bandages, while his arms are motionless at his side. Ali traces the tube from its place in his arm to the top of a medkit where various fluids and medications are pumped into his veins. She wants to scream, to shake him awake, to hear from his own lips that he’s going to be okay. Her single greatest consolation comes in the slight rise and fall of his chest beneath the bandages, a clear sign that he’s still among the living. Ali can’t help the relieved tears welling but she wipes them away before Tim can see.

Or so she thinks. But the firm hand on her shoulder gives an empathetic squeeze that is more comfort than she’s willing to admit. “See? He’s okay.”

The late hour and lockdown still in effect finds all three Merricks sharing the tiny apartment safehouse on the second floor of The Last Round. While Tim makes his home on an overly large cot Fergal dug out of storage for him, Ali finds that sleep will not come. Frayed nerves knot around the aching fear still lingering in her gut. Funneling all of her blame for Jordan’s injury on his shredded armored jacket, Ali angrily grapples with an attempted repair. He’s going to need it for when he’s vertical again.

If he’s vertical again a dark voice whispers in the back of her mind.

But Ali snarls. He’s breathing. That’s all that counts.

**************************************************

Jordan groans. His eyes are heavy. Too heavy. Distantly he recognizes the fuzziness of his thoughts as the effects of fading sedation. Forcing his way beyond the drowsiness, he pries his eyes open to an area he knows all too well. The small room is dimly lit but Jordan can still make out the storage crates stacked in the corner and a few old busted out arcade games. But two anomalous silhouettes punctuate the familiar space: Tim quietly snores from a cot in the corner while Ali has nested herself in an old overstuffed chair, the tattered remnants of Jordan's jacket dangling from her lap.

What the hell happened after he went down? Did they get that bastard elf who shot him? What about their contact, had they gotten him out? Did anyone else get hit? How did they get Jordan's bike back to the bar?

The barrage of questions swim nauseatingly with the sedative until Jordan decides his uncertainty is not acceptable. With as much speed as he dares, the biker slides his legs to the edge of the bed… only to freeze as an overly large hand lands on his shoulder. Tim glares down at him in the darkness and Jordan can't help but wonder how a troll could move so fast with so little sound.

"Where you going?" The murmured question echoes loudly in the nearly silent room.

"Where's Ferg?"

"Sleeping. It's late."

"Did-"

"Yeah. Everybody made it back." Relief pulls the urgency from his questions and Jordan allows himself to relax back onto the bed. His eyes move to where Ali sleeps, chin tucked awkwardly against her shoulder. Tim follows his gaze. "She's good," he answers Jordan's unspoken question. "A little freaked."

"I bet."

"We both were." The twins' eyes meet and guilt blossoms in Jordan's chest at the depth of fear he sees there. "It was close, Jordan."

"Yeah. I know."

"No more bullets for a while?"

There's no reply. Jordan knows that promise isn't one he can make. What's worse is that Tim knows it too.

#whump #whump writing #shadowrun #original character #angst #oc

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

Text

The Stranger. Yan Childe x F Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 3k.

Soulmate AU.

Growing up, your mother always told you to be wary around strangers.

You can’t blame her for instilling this value in you. That was when your small family was located in Fontaine — a place where the cities were crowded with steam and people in equal amounts. Con artists flaunting their latest ‘world-changing’ inventions that coughed up suspicious amounts of steam and vendors promising their snake oil solutions that would cure any ailment could be found in abundance. Your mother would hurry you along, urging you not to pay these people the time of day, and you obeyed without question.

It wasn’t until you fled to Mondstadt in your later years that you challenged this notion.

The people here lived in leisure. Most were content with their lot, so long as they had warm food to fill their belly and a pint of ale to wash it down. Your mother still locked the doors before turning in for the night, she claimed it was to stop your father from finding you. No one else did the same, for generational bonds ran deep here. Everyone knew each other since they were in diapers, as did their parents, and their parent’s parents. The idyllic way of life was contagious — it wasn’t long before you caught the bug too. Once your mom passed, and could no longer remind you to lock the door, the ritual faded into obscurity.

Mondstadt’s citizens have always been good to my brother and I, you’d think. I have no reason to distrust them.

And so you didn’t.

There was only a single tradition that your mother passed down that you dutifully fulfilled. That would be your habit of wearing gloves long enough to obscure the name that’s been on your wrist since you were born. The word ‘soulmate’ was the popular adage to describe the phenomena, but your mother warned against taking the description at face value. For every joy in this world, there must be an equal amount of despair, lest things fall into disarray.

“They love us enough to make up for the love we don’t hold for them, ten times over,” she’d tell you, always pulling the glove down enough to cover what everyone else your age would brag about and joyfully show off. You didn’t understand at the time, but you felt her fanaticism through her jerky movements and clipped speech. It bled through like dye when white and dark laundry is mixed. That stain was enough to leave a lasting impression, whereas others faded away into obscurity.

The person currently standing beneath your doorway makes you wonder if your mother was truly right in everything she enforced.

She’d gladly tell you so, had she still been around. But she wasn’t. You were the adult in charge of the house now, the person who called the shots. Your younger brother knows this, which is why he pleads the stranger’s case on his behalf, quite ardently at that.

“You said I’d get a cold if I went in the rain!” The little boy, Elias, implores. Children always have a knack for remembering your words at the worst of times. “What if mister gets a cold, and no one is there to help him? A-And he really needs help?”

A flash of lightning illuminates the towering figure’s silhouette outside. His strange array of gray clothes sticks to his body, water droplets gathering at the apex of the crimson mask sitting on the side of his head, then falling to form a puddle on the floor. Your eyes meet his in an unspoken struggle that wasn’t meant for a child’s ears. Though the height he has over you might be imposing, his face itself is far from it. He has an almost sheepish smile, rosy cheeks, and shoulders pinched together in a way that reminds you of a teenage boy ready to stumble over a love confession.

“I really would hate to impose,” he says, and it sounds like he means it too. “Would it be alright if I just stayed beneath your porch until the worst of it lets up?”

Both you and Elias look at the poor excuse of a ‘porch’ that he speaks of. The wooden overhang has enough holes that you can safely compare it to swiss cheese, taking a few steps back and withstanding the full brunt of the storm wouldn’t be much different than if you were to beneath it. He must be cognizant of the detail, you reason, as the humble suggestion all but puts Elias into a fit of hysterics.

He’s always been such a sweet and gentle child — if one of his stuffed animals ever tore, he’d kiss it better, the same way you would for him when he got a bruise or cut. He’d then hold onto the little paw while you fixed the tear with your needle and thread, reassuring them that ‘they’d be better soon, once Doctor [First] was finished.’

If that was the heart he had for an inanimate object, what more care would he have for a living, breathing human in supposed need?

“If mister has to stay outside, I’ll stay outside too,” Elias declares. He leaves your side and goes to join the stranger in protest. You gape, much like a fish, uncertain if you should feel proud of Elias’ compassion or horrified by the problem developing. The pendulum swung back and forth between the two, more so toward the latter than the former.

The stranger kneels down, allowing himself to be at eye level with Elias. “While I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, it’s important to always listen to your big sister first, okay? She’s just looking out for you.”

You observe the interaction with a twitching eye and hands balled into fists.

“But… but…” Elias’ lower lip trembles. He takes a moment to regain himself, his voice soft. “Mister was nice and gave me and my friends lots of toys. I don’t want you to get a cold.”

“While it’s true kids shouldn’t go out in the rain because they might get a cold, I’m an adult. I should be okay even if I do get one. What matters most is making sure you don’t upset your sister. That is something you should never do, ever ever. After all, there’s nothing that matters more than family, is there?”

Elias considers his words then sighs, his cheeks puffed out from having failed to achieve his goal. “... No. Not even sweets.”

The stranger laughs at that. “Not even sweets. Good, good.”

He stands back to his full height and you’re reminded of just how outclassed you are.

“You have my sincerest apologies for disrupting your evening like this,” he places a hand over his heart and smiles, almost sadly. “I’ll be on my way now. Take care, Elias. It was nice meeting you. Be a good friend to Mr. Cyclops.”

The most this earns is a weak “I will,” spoken in between sniffles. You place your hand on Elias’ shoulder and urge him inside, while the stranger at the doorstep prepares to leave, true to his word. It could be your imagination, but you swear his pupils flit downward to your wrist for the briefest instant. His lip twitches. Before you can think much else of it, he turns around, preparing to head off.

Elias presses his head into your skirt to hide his tears, his heart burdened with the weight of another’s plight. Your fingernails dig into the soft flesh of your palms. How would this impact Elias in the future? Would he be afraid to bring his friends to you if they needed help?

How do you explain to him that this particular stranger is one to be wary of, without casting suspicion over everyone else he doesn’t know yet? Briefly, the face of your frantic mother flashes through your mind. She’d know what to do. You only wish she lived long enough to teach you that herself.

“... You can stay,” you rush the words out like air from a blacksmith’s bellow. The retreating figure stills yet doesn’t turn, urging you to elaborate on your invitation to his back. “We have some old clothes you should be able to fit into. In the meantime, would you mind waiting outside a while longer? The wood in this house is old and prone to growing mold.”

You wonder what sort of expression adorns his face while you’re unable to see it.

There’s a pause, and then he pivots, returning to his former spot without needing to walk more than a few paces. That was all the time you needed for guilt to outweigh the other factors on your mind. Elias lets out a victorious cheer, wiping his glassy eyes with his too-long sleeves that you require hemming.

To buy yourself a few minutes alone, you assign Elias a quest that should keep him occupied.

“Eli, you know the trunk where mommy kept her things? There are some of dad’s old clothes in there. Could you grab some for me?”

Elias nods his head, determination strong on his otherwise soft face. He promises the stranger that he’ll be right back, then takes off, only slowing down when you remind him not to run inside the house. Once you ensure he’s out of earshot, you give your full attention to the man standing at the doorway. Your countenance shifts from careful neutrality to suspicion that, if he notices, he chooses not to comment on.

“You’re a real lifesaver, I thought I might drown out there,” he begins. When the mood fails to lighten at his jest, he tries another angle. “Ah, I can’t believe I haven’t introduced myself. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” you cut off sharply. He blinks, seemingly unbothered by your hostility. He then gives what you think might be the most genuine smile of the night. “You’re one of those Fatui that go around causing trouble for anyone and everyone. Well, I won’t be having that under my roof. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, trying to manipulate my brother like that. I don’t know what your game is here — nor do I care to find out. So just take the change of clothes and leave when the rain settles. Got it?”

That wiped the smile off his face. Unfortunately, it’s replaced by something infinitely worse; a smirk that you’d love to get rid of just as fast.

He whistles. “Wow, and I thought my homeland was cold. That must be the closest I’ve ever come to actually developing hypothermia. On my honor — hey, don’t roll your eyes — I swear I’m not up to anything nefarious here.”

“You just make a habit out of waltzing into people’s homes, then?”

“Well, in my defense, I didn’t realize this was a home,” he puts his hands up. You narrow your eyes, unconvinced. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit out of my element in this nation. This quaint little house is a ways off from any other civilization and there weren’t any lights visible from the outside.”

Your cheeks warm at this and your haughtiness melts like the wax you couldn’t afford. What didn’t count as a necessity, you tried to do without. Having candles lit around the home didn’t put food on the table — the money you saved from forgoing their purchase did. A few bruises from bumbling around in the dark weren’t enough to sway you.

For the first time since you started conversing with him, he looks elsewhere. Notably, at the unused hearth behind your person. You follow his gaze and sigh.

“Our firewood isn't the best,” you admit. “I don’t bother getting the good stuff when it isn’t winter.”

“Heh. Your definition of winter is cute.”

He mutters a few unconvincing apologies after you give him a pointed look.

“I could always give it a try, with your permission, naturally. I feel the frostbite you inflicted upon me growing stronger by the second. I might just keel over on your porch if it isn’t treated promptly.”

“You think you can start a fire when you’re sopping wet?”

“I know I can. I’m a man of many talents.”

“... Right,” you drag the word out. You suppose he would need to come in eventually to get changed, so there’s no way around cleaning up the dripping mess that would inevitably make. Might as well let him in before his clothes collect even more water. You step to the side and he accepts the silent invitation to come in. He at least has the decorum to remove his muddy boots by the entrance.

This time, when you shut the door behind him, you lock it. Too little too late.

He immediately sets to work. You stand off to the side, your arms crossed over your chest, as you scrutinize his every movement. He removes his wet gloves and sets them aside. Next is rearranging the wood in a peculiar manner — it reminds you of what those Adventurers' Guild campsites look like — then he splits off a smaller piece of wood from the main logs as if it were butter. The casual demonstration of inhuman strength makes you frown.

He rubs the thinner piece in between his palms with enough fervor that, soon enough, smoke rises to reward his efforts. Then a spark. He fans the flames just enough to encourage it, and true to his word, a humble fire comes into existence.

“You don’t have to stand so far away. I might just take it personally if you do,” he accentuates his point by jutting his head in his direction. “There’s plenty of room over here.”

That’s an exaggeration and you both know it, the area wasn’t meant to occupy more than one person. Still, you can’t deny the hypnotizing quality that fire boasts, so you join him without protest, leaving as much space as you can. You overhear Elias through the thin walls shuffling through piles of old belongings you could never bring yourself to part with.

The fire crackles and shifts in a dance of its own design.

“You can look, y’know,” he suddenly speaks up, disrupting the temporary harmony. “I know you want to.”

“Pardon?”

He doesn’t turn to face you, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “At my wrist. I noticed you have a habit of avoiding the area with your eyes. I don’t know what your customs here are, but where I’m from, there’s no shame in taking a peek. I’m not the type to be easily offended.”

There was a certain playful lilt in his voice before that no longer exists. His words themselves are lighthearted, but the grave tone adds a dissonant effect that’s painful to the ears. You’ve always tried to push the frivolous thoughts about soulmates down someplace where they’d never resurface. The thought of falling hopelessly in love, while appealing to some, never did much for you. You think it would’ve been this way even without your mother’s influence. What if you lost a part of yourself when joining another?

You have Elias to take care of, and this dilapidated yet nostalgic home to maintain. They’re all you have in this world and all that you could possibly want. Some stranger that happens to have the same letters as your name on their wrist might endanger that, and the possibility alone gives you enough reason to avoid it.

It’s with this that you have the conviction to say: “I don’t need to look.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Well, I guess I don’t either, to be fair.”

Considering his former pushiness, you found it strange he decided to drop the topic just like that. He struck you as the type to persist until he got his way. The wording struck you as slightly odd too — was he intending to ask to see yours, only to decide against it? Whatever the reason behind the change was, you decide not to question it. You’ve already been through the humdrum explanation a thousand times with friends and prying strangers alike. They never seemed to understand why you didn’t share their enthusiasm for soulmates.

“Found it!” Elias exclaims from the other room. Quick footsteps come shuffling back in your direction not long after, the little host likely feeling bad for taking so long. He really was a sibling you could be proud of.

“Ah, I never did get to formally introduce myself, did I?” he muses, extending his arm, anticipating what you assume to be a handshake. “Most people call me Childe these days. Oh, there’s no need for you to tell me your name, I’m well aware. I’ve been familiar with it my entire life, actually.”

Before you can think to look away, he holds his wrist up tall and proud, his pale skin illuminated by the roaring fire’s warm glow.

The delicate letters of your name are inscribed on his wrist, faintly reminding you of a tombstone.

Your reaction is immediate. You stand to your feet, almost stumbling back while you do so, forgetting about a floorboard that’s slightly uneven compared to the rest. Elias enters the room not long after — and for once, you barely recognize his presence. You feel that it is you that’s been submerged with ice cold water from the mighty heaven’s above outpour, not this man. This man who you willingly let into your house despite all the warnings advising you against doing otherwise.

“Childe isn’t my actual name, though. It’s Ajax. Sound familiar?”

“How did you… when did you…?”

“Those of us with Visions have something called elemental sight,” he taps beside his right eye. “The name gives off the slightest elemental energy. How useful is that?”

There’s nothing warm about the room anymore. Winter has come, and he brought it.

“I got the clothes!” Elias informs, ambling over to Childe with excitement in each step. Childe accepts the outfit, thanks the starstruck boy, and ruffles his hair. You once again catch the makings of your name in a confirmation you could’ve done without. Never has a word brought you so much profound dread.

“So, how long are you gonna stay with us, mister?” Elias asks.

Childe makes sure to maintain eye contact with you when he gives his answer.

“For as long as your sister will have me.”

#childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #yandere ajax x reader #ajax x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere x reader #commissions #my stuff

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