FNAF Oneshots Book 1

DDLC x FNaF Crossover

*TRIGGER WARNING! If you're sensitive to... really anything I'd recommend you not read this chapter. Like the game, this deals with sensitive topics like cutting, death, and what have you.*

You woke up bright and early, getting dressed to make your way to the bus stop. Today, like every day, you were going to meet your friend Jeremy, so you two could walk to school together. You pulled on your school uniform, brushing your teeth, hair, and grabbing something quick from your pantry before heading out to the bus stop.
"Bye, Mom!" You called to your mother before closing the door behind yourself.

You waited at the bus stop for a while before you saw Jeremy rushing down the sidewalk, tie not yet tied around his neck and his hair a mess. He was late again. Sadly, this wasn't the first time.
"(Y/N), " Jeremy said in between breaths. "S-Sorry I'm late. I lost this." Jeremy handed you a pamphlet for the literature club at school. He's been dropping you subtle hints that he wanted you to join.
"As always my friend, you are extremely subtle with your hints."
"A-Are you going to join?" He asked with a sparkle in his eye and a hopeful smile on his face.
"Why not?"

At the end of the school day, Jeremy ran through the halls and into a classroom filled with three other guys.
"G-Guys! I-I recruited h-her!" The guys turned their attention to you. "This is Vincent. He's usually q-quiet." Vincent was sitting in a desk, his violet-hued nose in a book. "And Fritz is s-sitting over there. He's into Manga like I am."
"Manga isn't truly literature." Vincent piped up without taking his eyes off his book about knives.
"Yeah right, dummy," Fritz scoffed. "At least it's better than a book about knives. Manga has storylines, amazing art, and it's not weird like whatever you're reading."
"Whatever you say, Fritz."
"A-And here's...where is he?"
"I'm Mike. The literature club president. Nice to meet you, (Y/N)." You were a bit taken aback. "Jeremy's talked about you a lot. He was excited for you to be here."

Your first first assignment in the literature club was to create a poem. Poems weren't something you were used to creating. Did yours want to rhyme? Maybe not? Did it matter?
"Jeez..." You sighed under your breath.
"Need some help?" Mike asked as he appeared behind you.
"AH-God...Nah, I'm good." Mike hummed and walked off to check on everyone else.

After the poem writing, you went to check on everyone else. Jeremy was siting with Fritz, reading a One Piece manga while holding a piece of paper.
"O-Oh, (Y/N)! Here. I made this for you." You grabbed the piece of crumpled notebook paper from Jeremy's hand and read it. It was the poem he made. "M-Mike crumbled it up and tossed it in the trash. He didn't like it." The poem read:
Cats are good
Cats are great
Very soft
And sweet.
"Cute, Jere." Jeremy smiled and went back to his reading. "What are you reading, Fritz?"
"Do you like manga too? That'd be cool!" A small smile appeared on his face, but it was immediately replaced with a frown. "Fairy Tail. Now, shoo."
"Well then."

The next person you went to visit was Vincent. He was still reading his book about knives.
"So, I see you like knives." You said. For the first time today, he looked up from his book and looked at you.
"Knives are both like people and better than people. They come in different shapes, sizes, and colors. They're good for stabbing, cutting, slicing, et cetera." You were starting to get nervous. "Talking about knives makes me a bit excited, honestly. They're my passion..." Vincent paused and looked over to the door while rubbing his arm under his jacket sleeve. "I'll be back." Vincent rushed out of the classroom, closing the door behind him.
"What a weirdo," Mike commented, closing Vincent's book. "The freak cuts himself whenever he gets excited. It'd be a shame if something were to happen to him..." A loud thump came from outside the door. Vincent was slumped on the ground, back against the wall, his left wrist cut open and bleeding, his right hand holding a small pocket knife. He was coughing, spazzing as he bled out. "Well isn't this an inconvenient situation, huh Vince?" Mike removed the pocket knife from Vincent's hand and stabbed him in the abdomen with it. "Oops..." Mike walked down the hall to dispose of the weapon.

Three people sat in the room, unable to talk about what just happened. Fritz and Jeremy weren't reading, just staring at the blank wall in front of them. Then, like the already creepy person he was, Mike walked in and motioned for Jeremy to help him in the hallway. While the two were gone, Fritz stood up and walked over to you.
"Listen, (Y/N). Mike's fucked up in the head. I have no clue what's wrong with him, but he's going to do something to-" Fritz's mouth was immediately closed, a black, censor-bar-like object covering it and preventing him from speaking another word. His eyes rolled back into his skull as he walked back to where he was sitting, turned around to where he wasn't facing you.
"Jeremy..." You walked out of the classroom and went down the corridor, trying to find where Mike and Jeremy may have been. A trail of Vincent's blood was leading down the way you were going, and it stopped in front of the janitor's closet. In front of the door was a note, a poem. It read:
Only me just for you
No one else to get in my way
You will be mine, (Y/N)
Just Mike.
Poems that didn't rhyme spooked you now. You honestly didn't want to open the door.
"I'll do it quickly." You promised yourself. Your shaky hand opened the door and immediately closed it. Jeremy was hanging by a rope attached to the ceiling. "That was a mistake. I need to leave..." And you did leave. Without moving a muscle, no doubt. You were in an empty room, stuck to a chair, with a table in front of you, where Mike sat with a look of lust and adoration on his face.
"And then it was two. You know, (Y/N), I did all of that for you. Each person in the literature club was murdered for you. And now it's just us. Besides, from the beginning, you were destined to end up with just me. Just. Mike. No one else, ever. Just Mike. Just. Mike."

"(Y/N)!" Jeremy knocked you out of your thoughts.
"Huh? Sorry, what's going on?"
"W-We're going to the literature club, r-remember? I'm the new president."
"O-Oh. Yeah. Is Mike going to be there?"
"Mike S-Schmidt? The football player? He b-barely reads in class!" Jeremy chuckled. "C-C'mon!"