summary: On the eve of betrayal, Wesker finds himself distracted by his lover Chris Redfield.
Warm summer air breezed through the open windows of the Police Station. The wind blew some of the papers that were perfectly sorted on Wesker's desk up just ever so slightly while the heavy paperweight didn't allow them to actually budge out of place.
He couldn't afford to slip up in any way or waste his time fixing unnecessary and uncalculated mistakes, not when the highlight of his plan was this close, the betrayal of his own team.
The blonde was so focused on his papers and the plans that he had thought out thoroughly over the course of his time as captain of the Alpha Team that he almost didn't hear the door creaking opened gently, no knocks beforehand. He sighed a little to hide the tiny smirk that dared to almost appear on his lips. Chris.
“Come in,” he said in the same cold tone he used to speak to everyone. He really never let himself slip, not even in front of someone like Chris. “I, however, can't believe I still have to remind you of basic manners like knocking, Chris.”
But even if it wasn't the knocking that gave him away it certainly would’ve been the slightly unpleasant smell of tobacco that filled the room as soon as Chris opened that door. Still displeased with the disrespect the brunette man showed up with, Wesker shook his head a little before finally looking up to see the man he expected to see.
“Sorry” he simply muttered. It wasn't a real apology, his tone gave that much away, and both of them knew that he’d never learn to knock.. not on Wesker’s door at least. Nonetheless, Wesker still nodded, acknowledging the fake apology.
Chris closed the door behind him before fully stepping into the room. His eyes darted to his right, making sure the blinds didn't allow anyone to see anything. “I just wanted to ask if you’d be up for dinner tonight. At my place. I can cook one of the fancy meals you like,” Chris spoke with a little smile on his face as he rubbed his neck with his right hand, a nervous tick he could never seem to let go of.
“You smoked,” Wesker simply commented, avoiding the question in what he believed to be a skilled manner as he scrunched his nose up just a little, never allowing himself to express himself too much with his facial expressions.
“I won't at dinner, promise.” Chris replied, trying to steer the conversation back to his offer. Wesker was amazing at avoiding things he didn't want to talk about or express his opinion on, and Chris knew that better than anyone. If anyone knew they were closer than what both of them led on, they'd ask how Chris even got this close to the cold-hearted man in the first place, and in all honesty, he didn't know. It was cliché to say “it just happened,” but with the both if them, it truly just did, like the universe drew both of them together.
Wesker looked at the man standing in front if his desk, almost unrecognizable from the man he saw out in the field. Instead of the man that confidently took up space and didn't take shit from anyone, he saw a nervous one with a little blush on his face that he wouldn't admit to if Wesker called him out on it.
Albert fixed his glasses and steered his gaze down to his paperwork again. “I’ll be there at 8,” he replied coldly and waved his hand to dismiss Chris, not wanting to distract himself with the personal relationship he has built here at RPD. His mind was focused on umbrella, even if his heart calked him towards his lover.
Wesker shouldn't care about anyone but himself, anyone but his own ideologies, and he didn't. He wouldn't, because that means slipping up, and he couldn't. Not when his true intentions would soon be revealed to his team, not when his betrayal was this close, and he couldn't let a feeble man like Chris get in the way if things. Wesker thought, but it was never entirely true. Not when it came to Chris.
What they had was something deeper than rivalry and sharper than the hatred they half faked out on the field. He cared for Chris in the only way he still could, in the only way he'd allow himself, guarded with his true feelings buried deep into his subconscious. Maybe he even loved him, as much as someone like Wesker was still capable of loving.
But in this world, Wesker didn’t see himself as human anymore. Whatever part of him could have reached for something real, something good, was long buried beneath what others had destined him to become and what he chose to turn himself into.
Maybe, in another life, one where neither of them had been shaped into weapons so young, they could have been something else. Something simple. Something like family, the kind neither of them ever truly had.
But that world would never exist for them. Not after tomorrow evening.
Their paths were too fixed, their beliefs too deeply rooted. Neither of them would bend, not even for something like love. Not even for someone they love. They were too alike for that too proud, too certain, too unwilling to become anything other than what they had decided they were.
So, for as long as they were trapped in their positions in this city neither of them could truly call home, they shall remain what they were destined to be.
tags: possessive behaviour, yandere William Afton, Jealousy
word count: 765
summary: Just to hurt him you mentioned a guy during an argument with your boyfriend, William Afton. He kills him out of jealousy and comes back the next morning covered in blood.
warnings: minor description of blood and a character dying
“I didn’t even like him!” You yelled at your boyfriend as you held back tears, not wanting to seem more vulnerable than you already were. Your head felt like it was on fire, while shivers ran down your spine. You felt everything, every nerve in your body, and nothing all at once. Your body and mind were protecting themselves from the danger that was William Afton, your boyfriend.
The fight replays in your head over and over. He kept you up after you returned home from your trip later than planned. He argued with you about how worried you made him and whatever else came into his insecure mind. You were exhausted and just wanted the quarrel to end, so you weaponised one of his insecurities and just blurted something out. “Yeah! Maybe I should talk to the cute guy on the night shift at Freddy’s! He probably wouldn’t keep me up with this stupid shit every night!” It didn’t help your situation, and you being tired surely wasn’t a valid excuse, but it got him. He stormed out, and you didn't see him again for the night until you saw something shift in the reflection of the kitchen window. You turned around to face him.
There was so much blood on him.
Not his.
He stood perfectly still as your words sank in, the air thick with something darker than anger but too shielded to actually be a hint of vulnerability.
His voice, when it came, was quiet and cold.
"So you played with me." He took a slow step forward. “You gave me a name… the name of a man who has eyes for you too.. for what? To see what I’d do?”
A humorless smile curled his lips. His hands flexed at his sides, his scarred fingers twitching from the memory of what they'd done last night in the dark silence of the pizzeria’s back hallways.
Your tears, despite fighting them, rolled down your cheeks as you backed away. Your back hit the wall, and you suddenly felt trapped between the concrete and him. “I..” You wanted to say something, anything, but no word could come out. Your throat felt tight and dry. Guilt overcame you. You sent this man to his death. It was your fault.
"I killed him because of you. Because for one second you let me believe my suspicions." He whispered, closing the distance until he was right in front of you, voice trembling ever so slightly.
He cupped your face suddenly, thumb pressing just under your eye like he could wipe away guilt itself, but instead he just wiped your tears.
"...Next time," he breathed, "don’t make promises I’ll feel compelled to put a stop to."
You breathed in heavily. Your head was spinning, and your tears wouldn’t stop coming. You opened your mouth, and this time something came out “He.. He didn’t suffer.. did he? You made it quick, right?” Your voice was broken and tremulous. You barely kept yourself together.
William’s expression didn’t soften, but his thumb stilled against your cheek, catching a tear before it could fall.
He studied your face.. your fear, your grief, not with remorse, but possession. Love. If you could even call it that.
"...No."
The word was low. Honest.
"He begged," he said calmly, his voice like smoke curling through the room. "He called for his mother. Thought I was a malfunctioning animatronic at first." A pause. Then softer and almost proud, "I made sure he knew it was me before the end." He smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I made sure he knew why I was there.”
His hand slid into your hair, gripping just enough to tilt your face up to his.
"But yes… it didn’t take long." Another lie, one for you. For your comfort.
That didn’t stop you from breaking down. Your legs started to feel weak, and you couldn’t keep yourself up anymore, but before you could fall to the ground, William caught you. His arms wrapped around your waist quickly and kept you standing upright but also pressed against him. He moved you to the ground softly as he spoke to you.
"You don’t need to cry for him." His voice dropped to a whisper against your temple as he pulled you closer. "You still have me." He placed a gentle kiss on your temple.
His nose brushed against your hair and took in your scent as one of his hands, still stained in ways no soap could reach, reached out to hold yours.
summary: You've worked at Freddy's long enough to know everything. It's smell, it's history and it's people. You should have left when everyone else did. The pay was awful and the job boring. But there's him. William.
He loves you, you told yourself.
You wanted to be seen by him, to be loved. He wants you two to last forever.
warnings: death, toxic relationship
You’ve been at Freddy’s long enough for its smell to cling to you. You’re sure the smell of synthetic cheese, metal, and oil would follow you to your grave. It was that kind of scent that seeps into your skin and doesn’t leave no matter how many showers you take. What’s even worse is that everyone who once showed you how to do your job has long since left. Some burned out, retired, or… vanished. Somehow, you stayed.
Somehow, you climbed your way into management.
The title doesn’t mean much. The pay’s still bad. Everyone knows that even the night shift, the one no one touches, barely covers rent. But that’s not what keeps your mind busy.
It’s him.
William Afton.
Tall. Composed. Dark hair parted neatly in the middle, a few rebellious strands curling against the rules he so carefully lives by. The faint violet shadows beneath his eyes, soft, almost attractive. They’re the only sign he doesn’t really sleep. You’ve tried not to notice. It’s hard to not keep your eyes on him all the time especially when you’re the one he keeps his eyes on.
The place is quiet tonight. Low turnout means early closing. So, bit by bit, the pizzeria winds down. lights dim, tables gleam under a thin layer of detergent and the mechanical laughter of the animatronics finally turns to silence as they’re turned off. One by one, your coworkers clock out, their footsteps fading down the black and white tiled hallway until there’s just you.
And, of course, him.
You sigh, rolling the metal gate shut until they clatter into place. The quiet settles warmly against your chest as you feel it rise and fall. For a moment, eyes closed, you let the calm swallow you. It’s peaceful here, when it’s empty.
A loud thud and a muffled curse interrupt your peaceful moment.
Your eyes snap open. “William?” Your voice bounces off the empty walls. No answers. You look around to determine where the sound came from. Your eyes wander to the far end of the hallway. Parts and Service. The faint, flickering light leaking through the askew door.
You grab your flashlight, thumb brushing the switch. The beam fades in and out like a dying heartbeat. Of course, the batteries are weak. You curse under your breath and step carefully between the tables. The animatronics stare blankly through the darkness silent, judgmental. Almost as if they are alive.
You reach the door. Knock once. It creaks open on its own.
He’s there.
Not startled, not really, but tense, caught mid-motion at the desk, tools scattered like bones. He was working on something and you interrupted him.
“What!?” he snaps, irritation sharp enough to cut, but when his eyes meet yours, the edges soften. He sighs a low sound, almost a laugh.
You stammer before you can help it. “I-I just needed batteries. For my flashlight. And I heard you yell. Thought you might’ve been hurt.” The words tumble out faster than you mean them to, and you hate the way your voice betrays you. Your eyes were focused on him.
For a moment, he just looks at you. Looks through you. Then, in one smooth motion, he stands, the air between you growing heavier.
“Come here,” he says softly.
You freeze, then step closer almost before deciding to. His hand finds yours. It’s cold and firm. He pulls you into the glow of his desk lamp. His proximity hums like electricity through your veins. He somehow made you feel shy and nervous.
You laugh, awkwardly. A small, nervous sound. Trying to relieve some of the desire between the two of you. Your gaze flickers from his lips to his collar, the faint smell of metal and cologne thick in the air. He reaches for your flashlight, fingers brushing yours.
“Let me,” he murmurs, twisting the bottom open to slip in new batteries. The click of metal against plastic sounds deafening in the silence.
“You’re playing with me,” you whisper, smiling despite yourself.
He glances up, eyes shining innocently.
“Oh, am I?”
The ghost of a smile curves his lips. It’s distant, knowing. His hand lingers for a second longer than it should before he lets go, leaving you longing for his touch once more.
“Whatever,” you murmured with a small smile, tilting your head as your eyes drifted to where he had just been sitting. A strange endoskeleton rested there, its design unlike any of the others used in the restaurant. Its limbs were too delicate, almost human, and its chest cavity glimmered faintly beneath the dim light.
You frowned. “What are you working on anyway?”
He turned slightly, his sleeves rolled up, a faint streak of grease crossing his wrist. “Oh- it’s nothing yet,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face with careful fingers. “Just an idea.”
“An idea,” you repeated, your voice dropping to a near whisper. “You know we closed hours ago? No other engineer or mechanic is here to look over the building process”
He chuckled low, almost to himself. “I lose track of time sometimes.”
“You should go home too,” you said, trying to sound casual. Your fingers reached up to smooth the knot of his tie, though your heart beat a little too fast for no reason you could name.
He smiled, that familiar shine in his eye. “Only if you come home with me.”
You laughed quietly, stepping back with a teasing grin. “Don’t expect anything though.”
A flicker of offense that quickly turned into amusement crossed his face. “Can I not simply enjoy your company?” he asked with mock sincerity before his smile widened again. Without waiting for your answer, his fingers slipped through yours, the warmth of his palm steady and persuasive. He always knew your reply before you ever said it.
You let him lead you out of the restaurant, your laughter echoing softly through the dark hallway. But underneath the comforting feeling of knowing he would keep you safe.. of knowing you had him, a strange feeling stirred up. It was something you couldn’t quite name or describe. He knew you too well. Every gesture, every tone, every silence you tried to hide behind, he could read. It was comforting. It was suffocating. It was as though he was inside your skin, learning you piece by piece until there was nothing left that wasn’t him or understood by him. He consumed you.
You shrugged it off. He loved you. Of course he knew you.
That night unfolded like all the others. His home always felt untouched way too neat, too still as if no one really lived here. He cooked you dinner with quiet concentration, the smell of herbs and oil filling the kitchen. He poured the wine without asking, his movements practiced, precise. You always drank it. You always liked it. Then came the movie.. something he chose, something you ended up loving. He knew your taste so well it was almost frightening.
Later, when you grew sleepy, he walked you upstairs. You always told him not to work while you stayed over, and he always promised it would be just for a little while. His voice, low and reassuring, wrapped around you like velvet until your defiance melted away. “You’ll understand soon,” he often whispered before heading back down to his garage. You couldn’t be mad at him for too long. His voice was too charming and he just had this way of convincing you of anything and everything
Still, you sighed, always the same sigh, before letting sleep take you.
When morning came, the smell of breakfast drew you from the warmth of his bed. Pancakes, eggs, a small vase of flowers by the plate. Everything in its right place. He smiled when you entered, his eyes softer now, and you leaned into his arms, ignoring the faint scent of grease and metal clinging to his clothes. Did he spend the night at Freddy’s?
“Hope I can make up for not joining you last night with this,” he whispered against your ear, his hand trailing lightly along your lower back, soothing but possessive.
You smiled in return, sitting down. “You always know how to win me back.”
He chuckled quietly, pouring your coffee. But the air between you felt different that morning. Something unsaid lingered there.
“Something on your mind?” you asked gently as you neared the end of your meal.
He looked up at you then, his eyes a little too bright. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “I have something to show you later. It’s a surprise for you.”
You smiled, trying to sound playful again. “Later? I have to wait?”
“Patience, love,” he murmured, his tone dipping into that familiar, hypnotic rhythm. His thumb brushed over the rim of his coffee cup before his gaze locked with yours again. He was happy.
You laughed lightly, though something in you tensed. “You’re being secretive again.”
“Would you rather I ruin the surprise?” he teased as he held eye contact with you. His eyes were deep, unreadable. “You’ll love it. I made it just for you.”
His words hung in the air, sticky sweet and heavy. You didn’t question the made it part. He always made things. Machines. Toys. Dreams. Sometimes nightmares. It was all the same to him, really.
The date was perfect on paper. He was charming as ever, talking about everything and nothing, sometimes watching you instead of the meal. You caught him doing that often. His gaze flickered not with affection but with fascination, like he was studying you. Memorizing. Every blink, every tilt of your head, was documented somewhere behind those half-lidded eyes. You noticed and your uneasy feelings about him creeped back into your mind.
He loves you. He wants to get to know you, of course he’d study your moves. You reassured yourself.
After dinner, walking back to his car, his hand found yours without asking. The night was cold. The hum of streetlights made sure the night wasn’t too quiet. You shivered a little and he teased you for forgetting your jacket. You looked at him and rolled your eyes. He really wasn’t a gentleman sometimes. He ignored your defiance.
He murmured something to himself once you two got home, guiding you down to his workshop with a hand resting a little too long on the small of your back. “I want you to meet her.”
“Her?” you echoed. You shivered a little as he opened the door to his workshop. The dim light reflects on the tools across the floor. The air smelled like oil and something metallic beneath it. It was almost like Freddy’s. Your eyes scanned the room quickly before you saw what he meant. You saw her.
She was sitting on the table. Smooth white shell, elegant lines, eyes closed. Beautiful, in a distant, haunting way. She almost looked human.. more human than anything else he had made before. She looked peaceful.
“She’s called Ballora,” William said softly, touching her hand as though introducing an old friend. “Graceful, delicate. I thought of you when I sculpted her.”
You smiled uncertainly, your eyes catching the faint shimmer of the silver endoskeleton under her faceplate. “She’s beautiful,” you admitted, fingers hovering above the metal cheek. It was cold and lifeless. It didn’t suit her human look. “But… what is she for?”
He laughed, gentle and broken. “For you. Through her, we’ll always be together. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted?”
Something twisted in your stomach. He didn’t sound like the man you met at Freddy’s. He sounded.. crazy like his mask was slipping revealing his true self. “William-” You didn’t know what to say. You were scared. What was he implying?
He stepped closer, his breath brushing your ear. “Every time you look away from me, I can feel it. Like you’re disappearing. I can’t lose you and I won’t, not when I’ve finally built something * perfect. I figured out immortality and you can be a part of it.. a part of my creations” He paused for a second before continuing “A part of me.”
Your heart thudded. “This isn’t- William. You’re making less sense now” You stuttered. You wanted to yell, to run, to tell him this wasn’t love but you hesitated. Something unspoken pulled at your chest, dragged your breath from your lungs. You realized the answer he was waiting for, the answer he wanted, was already waiting on your tongue.
He cupped your face, eyes shining bright. “Don’t be afraid. You trust me, don’t you? You always do.” His hand slid down, tracing your neck, steady and deliberate. “Let me show you what I mean.”
He was still smiling when you closed your eyes. You told yourself it would all make sense. You told yourself you loved him. Like you always do.
He reached behind himself and you suddenly felt the cold touch of a sharp blade against your throat. With pressure and one sharp slice you felt everything and nothing. You felt warmth spill down your throat, the air leaving your body in a slow sigh before blood started to fill your lungs as he guided you down to the floor. You kept your eyes closed as he held you as though comforting you, whispering words that didn’t sound like words anymore and before everything went dark you felt one last emotion
regret.
You shouldn’t have trusted him with your life.
For a time, there was nothing. Then
a sound.
whirring.
A breath that wasn’t quite breath.
You tried to move but your body didn’t belong to you anymore. You couldn’t feel your heartbeat, only the rhythm of gears winding in your chest. You wanted to scream, to call his name but your voice came out as static.
He stood before you, eyes shining with worship and madness. “See? You’re perfect now. You’ll never leave me. We’ll always be together”
Inside, you tried to cry. You could feel him inside your thoughts, guiding your movements, your song, your constant smile. His control threaded through you like electric veins. You danced because he wanted you to. You smiled because he commanded it. You were his creation now, his masterpiece, his captive.
You were right where he wanted you to be.. trapped in the space where love ended and his obsession began.
