Animal Crossing x Reader Imagines 😍😍😍

Barold

Imagine dropping by Barold's house and finding a surprise🥰

You hate this.

The summer sun beats down on you as you knock on the door for the fifth time that day, your agitation growing as the villager inside fails to open the door. 

You check your list bitterly to see who the fuck lived here anyways. A so-called Raymond.

You examine your list closer, your eyes narrowing in apprehension. You'd been working for the whole day, and multiple villagers had failed to open their doors. Was there some kind of event you hadn't been invited to?

You roll your eyes before giving up and walking to the next house on the list: Barold.

To your relief, this client opens the door on the second knock.

"I'm here to fumigate your house." You tell him as you push your way in, eager to get out of the heat and into the bear's cool home. You hear the door close as Barold turns to face you, his bright pink lips pursing.

Finally,he says, "I don't remember hiring anyone to fumigate my house."

You shrug before unpacking your equipment. You didn't care if he had hired you or not, you weren't leaving this house without a payment.

Barold, seemingly understanding this, scratches his nasty head before disappearing into what you assume is the kitchen. You can hear him rummaging around and before you can make yourself at home on his couch, a cockroach scuttles over your feet. 

You stifle a scream before taking out your Gasinator 3000 and spraying the insect. It dies.

"Aren't you supposed to have me leave before spraying that stuff?!" Barold cries and you can hear him cough. 

You turn to see him crawling out of the kitchen, his eyes watery. He glares at you as you ignore him and begin your inspection of his home.

It was a mess.

You kick through piles of wrappers and hairs before arriving at the first bedroom. You let yourself in and nearly gag at the state of it.

There was a single mattress laid on the floor, and you're disturbed to see just how stained it is. Around the mattress, dirt and rotting fruit sits. You can almost make out what seems to be a dead rat, but you refuse to investigate it further.

In the corner behind the door, you spot a pile of boxes stacked against the yellowing wall. You peek out of the door, and after ensuring that Barold is occupied, you approach the pile and pick up the one on the top.

You give the box a tentative shake, and you smile as what sounds like paper rattles around. 

Maybe you could find his bank details in here. 

The thought of a new house encourages you to eagerly rip the lid off of the box and begin to sift through its contents; as expected, it's filled with papers.

Curiously, you pick one up and turn it over.

This time, you fail to silence your scream.

It was a picture of...you. Panic seizes you as you drop the box to the floor. Your eyes widen as  similar pictures tumble out of the small box to mock you, your own face staring back at you from multiple angles. 

There were pictures of you picking fruit, of you hitting villagers with your net (you'd have to burn those first...evidence), and even of you in your own home. 

Cautiously, you stoop down to pick up another one. Your stomach sinks as a photograph of just this morning stares back at you. The picture seems to have been taken from behind a bush, judging from the leaves in the corners. 

You allow the picture to flutter to the floor before shaking your head and taking a step backwards.

You had to get out of here.

You turn to exit the room, only to run right into Barold himself.

To your horror, he has a bright smile plastered on his face.

You stumble away from him, losing your balance as your feet catch on a loose floorboard. Barold giggles as you crash onto the floor, and he steps on your chest before you can wriggle away.

"I see you found my collection, Y/N." He tells you casually, ignoring the murderous look on your face.

You punch his foot, but it is fruitless; Barold is ripped as fuck.

"I noticed that no one answered your knocks this morning, Y/N," Barold says, his smile unwavering as you begin to scream for help. "No one will answer your pleas, either."

You watch as Barold leans closer to you, his smile growing even brighter.

"But I will." He whispers, and that's the last thing you hear before something sharp pricks your arm. 

Your vision blacks out as you turn to face the needle buried into your arm.

...

When you regain consciousness, you find that you're in a dark room. You rub your head before stumbling to your feet, and the blood rushing to your head makes your vision swim.

Once you're stable enough, your eyes circle the room.

As expected, the villagers that you hadn't seen that morning were sprawled on the floor. You approach one, only to see that it's Puddles. In disgust, you kick her over. She sighs in her sleep; she's alive.

From nearby, a door clicks open. Your hand flies to your boot, where you extract a small dagger you had found washed up on the shore one day. It had been engraved with odd scriptures, which was worrying, but you had kept it because it looked valuable.

Now, it would save your life.

You keep your eyes on the kidnapped villagers as the lights overhead turn on, illuminating the damp room in a murky hue of yellow.

You sense Barold slowly approaching you, and when he places a hand on your elbow (he can't reach your shoulder), you swing the dagger behind you.

From the cry that rings out, you know you have struck true.

Barold was right, you think as you turn to face him.

Nobody would hear his pleas.