Your First Meeting With Him // Chucky
Your First Meeting With Him
Character(s) in this fic: Chucky
CW(s) for this fic: swearing, blood, implied death, typical Child's Play things...
Reader is gender neutral!
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Your first meeting with him was... should we say, 'interesting'.
I don't think either of you got a good first impression of each other.
And on that note, it shouldn't even be called a meeting. More like forced acquaintances.
It all started on a hot summer afternoon, just as the sun was beginning to set.
Your ass of a manager had forced you to stay an hour over at work because three different people had decided to call in sick that day and they were understaffed. Of course, you couldn't just refuse; you needed this job.
But that doesn’t mean you weren't pissed about it on your bike ride home, a whole hour and a half later. You could be sitting at home watching shitty horror movies right now!
So caught up in mumbling curses under your breath, you subconsciously followed the path home; the same path you'd taken nearly every day since you started working.
Typically as you neared this particular alley between your local pizza parlor and the gun store (the pizza place was almost ASKING to be shot up), you'd stop to pet the stray dogs that munched on the leftovers in the dumpster. Today, though, it completely slipped your mind.
Without really thinking about it, you peddled on by.
Out of nowhere, a shadow appeared from the alley, practically leaping in front of your bike.
You slammed on the breaks as quickly as your reflexes would allow, but you weren't able to stop in time.
Your tire rammed into the figure, sending it to the ground. Thankfully you could spare it the pain of being run over by a mountain bike.
"Shit, shit, shit, are you okay?!"
You assumed it was the dog that you always doted on who ran out in front of you, expecting pets like every other day.
You got off your bike in a hurry, not caring as it fell to the ground.
That was when you realized that dogs don't scream "fuck".
Much less talk when being run over.
You paused just short of kneeling down, carefully looking over the figure you had hit.
...Okay, no, you had to be dreaming.
This thing was like 2 feet tall.
There was no way you just ran over a toddler, right?
Oh, shit, it's wearing overalls.
Oh god, look at those tiny feet.
Is that blood? Ooooh, god...
You knelt down. It must be knocked out. It was quite an impact.
Fuck, it'd really help if there was a light around here!
(Street lamp flickers to life.)
That is one scarred baby.
Who the hell decided to throw such an ugly doll in front of your bike?
...Poor thing. It was probably the result of some cruel kid's experiment.
Without really considering who the hell screamed "fuck" earlier, you picked up the doll heaving a long sigh.
You briefly glanced into the alley. No pupper today, it seemed.
Well, if nothing else, your sister now had a new tea party member! After you got this poor guy cleaned up and all.
Seriously, why was he bloody? Ew.
You put him in your bike's basket, continuing on your way home.
RIP the poor doggy and the pizza parlor owner you left behind in that alley.
You returned home to your apartment about 10 minutes later, throwing your bag down on the couch and following suit not a moment later, the doll in your lap.
Its eyes were open now. Strange. You could have sworn they were closed earlier. Maybe its one of those dolls that closes its eyes when its laying down? Possibly.
That's when you noticed the logo on his overalls.
You sat up, suddenly excited. No way! You used to have a Good Guy what felt like years ago. What was its name- Pauly? You used to love that thing.
Considering how beaten up it was, you weren't sure if its voice box even worked anymore. Might as well try though, right?
The doll blinked, turning its head side to side as it spoke in that same childish voice you remembered.
"Hi, I'm Chucky, and I'm your friend til the end! Hidey-ho, hahaha!"
Well, you were thankfully off for the next two days, so might as well get this lil guy fixed up before he meets your sister tomorrow.
Holding Chucky under your arm, you traveled to your closet, where you found your sister's hamper of clothes she keeps in your apartment for the nights she spends over. Some of her old things were probably small enough to fit a Good Guy.
As if you'd hand him over in tattered, bloody clothing to an 8-year-old.
When you found what you deemed suitable clothing, you headed to the bathroom to get him washed up.
You fished out some wet wipes, cotton balls and swabs, and isopropyl alcohol in preparation for what you were sure would be a battle getting all that caked-on grime off.
"Well, Chucky... say goodbye to these ol' things."
You turned him over, pulling the straps of his overalls free and then his shirt.
Oh, right. They come with batteries.
Well, might as well check them and make sure they're not leaking battery acid.
You reached for the clasp-
"At least take me out to dinner first."
The head swiveled around.
That wasn't the voice of a Good Guy.
Isn't that the same voice that screamed "fuck" earlier?
It took you a good few moments, but in the end, you dropped the doll, screaming at the top of your lungs.
You went for the bathroom door, aiming to run out and lock him inside, but he was way ahead of you.
The door slammed in your face, and all you could do was back up--tripping over the edge of the bathtub and falling ass-first into it, might I add--screaming all the while.
You watched as what should have been an inanimate doll reached up to his tiptoes to click the lock into place, before turning towards you with probably the most sinister look you'd ever seen on someone.
At that was saying something.
"Shut up, for fuck's sake!"
Okay, yeah, that definitely wasn't something the old Good Guys said.
"The fuck do you mean, 'shut up'?! A doll just came to life in my hands!"
He looked a bit surprised at your boldness, considering you were freaking out just a second ago. It could be argued you were still freaking out.
"And its my fault that said bloody doll--who I might add ran right in front of you and your stupid bike--didn't raise any red flags?"
Okay, he's got you there.
"O-Okay, I'm sorry for running into you and--and bringing you here, or whatever, but... F-Fuck, just tell me what the hell you want!"
You shouldn't have been as impressed with his human-like movements as you were.
"Well, if you're offerin'..."
Your breath caught in your throat as Chucky pulled your stylized hair scissors from the pocket of his overalls.
"What I want is insurance."
You swallowed the bile rising in your throat.
"You make sure I can hide safe an' sound here, and you won't lose all your limbs, startin' with your fingers. Sound like a deal?"
...It wasn’t like you could say no.
