#BUT THAT IS NOT WHAT *FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDYS* IS ABOUT AND I DOUBT IT WAS A COMPONENT SCOTT CAWTHON WAS FUCKING WORRIED ABOUT WHEN WRITING

[aftonenterprise-moved]

remember when matpat was like "BY THE AMOUNT OF MINIMUM WAGE MIKE IS MAKING WE CAN DEDUCE THIS GAME TAKES PLACE IN 1987" youre fucking INSANE dude. THE CHECK LITERALLY SAID "20XX" ON IT

#ooc #it makes me so. ggh.AAAHHHHHH #I CANT ARTICULATE WHY IT MAKES ME SO MAD #BUT IM GOING TO TRY #FNAF THEORIES ARE ALWAYS FOCUSED ON THE LOGISTICS OF THE SERIES AND WHAT 'MAKES SENSE' FOR THE TIME PERIOD AND WHAT MAKES SENSE AS PER NUMB #NUMBERS** AND I THINK THIS IS PROBABLY BECAUSE MATPAT HIMSELF DOES NOT THEORIZE IN A FICTIONAL META FANTASY WAY #MATPAT TAKES FANTASY FICTIONAL STORIES AND TRIES TO APPLY REAL LIFE LOGIC AND MATH TO IT TO MAKE SENSE OF IT #WHICH IS OKAY. GO RIGHT AHEAD. DO THAT #BUT THAT IS NOT WHAT *FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDYS* IS ABOUT AND I DOUBT IT WAS A COMPONENT SCOTT CAWTHON WAS FUCKING WORRIED ABOUT WHEN WRITING #THE STORY CONSIDERING 99% OF SCOTTS INTIIAL WORK WAS FANTASTICAL RIDICULOUS COMEDY FANTASY SHIT ABOUT TALKING COFFEE POTS #AND JESUS!!!!!!!!!!! LIKE. BONAFIDE JESUS!!!!!!!!! I DONT THINK THIS GUYS DOING THE FUCKING MATH FOR HIS FICTIONAL STORIES #I THINK SCOTT CAWTHON LIKE *MOST OTHER ARTISTS WHO TELL STORIES ABOUT SHIT LIKE THIS* CARED MORE ABOUT THE EMOTIONAL REACTIONS THEN THE #LITERAL FUCKING MATH OF THE YEARS OR THE DATES OR THE PAYCHECKS OR THE FUCKING ANIMATRONICS PISTONS #okay yelling moment over im not actually that mad im just really impassioned #i love art. i love fictional stories. i love emotionally driven stories. i love abstraction. i love symbolism. the game is full of it! #but i feel like when you sit there and argue with the story *itself* about what its about youre missing the point of the story at all #and youre missing the forest for the trees my man

[nerdnag]

Re: a possible physical connection between FNAF: Ruin and FNAF: Sister Location.

I wonder if anyone has tried to line up the paths beneath the FNAF 6 location to see whether the path taken in Ruin from the old pizzeria and all the way to the scooping room aligns with where Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place is located in relation to the scooping room on SL's map.

Because I am kind of curious to see if they do line up, but I can't find any maps from Ruin posted anywhere and I really don't feel like trying to orient myself/path it out manually...

#Sorry to all my followers who have no idea what I'm talking about lol #I just had to get this out #I doubt anyone will be able to see it or answer but anyway #Fnaf #Fnaf ruin #Five nights at freddy's #Fnafnag #Nagnerd

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

so like. fnaf movie. after night five, all outside observers know is "this 30yo guy with severe anger issues + his 10yo mentally ill sister just walked out of his collapsing workplace with an unconscious, stabbed police officer, saying that someone inside the building tried to kill them but we can't get into the building to check. we went to their house and the aunt who was fighting for custody of the child is dead on the floor. the guy's career counselor is missing, as is his babysitter and her family and apparently they're all dead in the building we can't get into." and like. that all looks suspicious as FUCK however we know that in the few-weeks timeskip both mike and abby seem happy and fine so it's not like mike was arrested or anything. he seems to be more adjusted and is happily talking with her teacher so i doubt he's under stress of interrogation or anything

there's a lot of implications there that mike mighta pulled something but it's all circumstantial evidence at best. i'm sure in jane's autopsy and crime scene evidence they couldn't find any evidence of mike being the one to attack her, esp since it was probably just golden freddy bopping her in the head so they dont even have the weapon, and if she was strangled they'd be able to tell it wasn't by bare hands and they couldnt get prints or anyth. especially if golden freddy is a FULL ghost and thus left no trail.

mike would be smart enough to only tell the cops what they need to know without mentioning ghosts to sound crazy. abby might be more honest with the cops just bc of #autism but they'd be more likely to consider her talking about ghosts and imaginary friends as a child's way of coping, and they cant get anything out of her that would incriminate mike. ADD TO THAT that mike has wounds that are clearly defensive and is SUPER banged up and his wounds would likely match his story way better than evidence of him attacking anyone, AND that there's likely footage and witnesses of him being in the pharmacy and then driving to work (and thus not in the area to attack jane), AND if/when nessie wakes up she'll probably vouch for mike as well, and the cops dont have anything on him

though i DO wonder if they would have records of vanessa patching him up in the police outpost. if they do, that would also back up mike's story as it's 1) far away from the aunt jane crime scene, 2) confirms that he and vanessa were working together, so either she's complicit in Crime™ or his story is accurate and she was helping him save his sister. him going to defend her instead of calling backup is also consistent with his personality of getting triggered and jumping into action around child abduction, esp w/ his sibling in danger

considering what abby would probably say, AND the history of freddy's, it's likely that they would come to the conclusion of is "someone [likely the og kidnapper from the 80s] found out that the guy working at freddy's had a sister, kidnapped abby from her house while her aunt was babysitting and tried to recreate the crimes, his story of him and vanessa defending her and escaping vaguely checks out." whether or not mike would incriminate vanessa by mentioning her dad was the killer is up in the air, and there's obviously some huge holes that are left from nobody believing that there are ghosts in the building but that would probably be the eventual conclusion

but throwing that all away, it would be really, REALLY funny if the rest of the town, being really fuckin nosy and getting into the juiciest gossip they've had in decades, took one look at michael "big teddy bear falling asleep on himself" schmidt and said "there's no way. there's no way this guy murdered his aunt, stabbed an officer and then destroyed his own workplace, especially when he really needed that job and was on sleeping medication," and then turned around to look at abby "neurodivergent in the early 2000s (ableist af time period)" "vocally hates her aunt" "doesn't talk to anyone and claims that she can see ghosts" "vaguely possessive of her brother" "claims that she found the guy who hurt her friends and got him jumped by a cupcake(?)" schmidt and said "oh my god. it was her."

and nobody's gonna directly say anything but they've got cautious eyes on the situation and someone quietly slips mike a copy of the bad seed to see if he has a realization but instead he's just like "hey this book kinda reminds of that golden freddy kid lmao. wonder how he's doin" and then we smashcut to golden freddy kid poking springtrap with a stick

#fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf spoilers #mike schmidt #abby schmidt #mine

[marchsfreakshow]

Clingyness {Tate Langdon x Fem!Reader}

You're watching a horror movie with Tate, and he gets worried for you, so you decide to find a way to comfort him.

For my big sis @lilthbunny 💜

18+! Minors dni with this fic.

Warnings!: Oral (M receive), praise and praise, p n v, Sub!Tate, Dom!Reader, horror movie generalness, mommy kink, kind of ooc Tate, crud smut writing.

Tate and you were snuggled together, under a warm duvet, the rain was storming, making the atmosphere feel more and more like a cliche. But he was resting his cute head on your chest, an arm placed around your waist, as one of yours held his own waist. No one dared disturb you two today.

It was Halloween.

Despite Halloween being the day that ghosts could roam free, Tate wanted to watch a movie tonight. It made you happy anyway, too many parties and drunk rowdy teenagers. He agreed that it was a night to stay inside and watch Halloween movies. Snacks were on your lap and Tate's lap, with two hot chocolates on the bedside drawer. Nothing but the best for my princess, Tate thought, looking up at you. You were distracted by the movie. It was a movie you somehow had never seen.

The Banana Splits Movie.

The premise of it enticed your horror movie-loving heart. It was a scrapped Five Nights At Freddy's script, but the creator rejected it, so it was created as its own movie. A horror movie about killer animatronics that don't act like actual animatronics. Being you, you had to look up everything about the movie and even watched a YouTube video about it which counted the kills and went into detail about how the movie was made.

But, bringing you out of your thoughts was Tate cuddling himself up to you, like he was trying to get on top of you or in your skin. Either of them would be okay with him. "Baby, you okay?" You asked softly, petting Tate's hair. He looked up at you with a dark puppy eyes look and nodded towards the TV screen. A character had been sawn in half from Fleegles's magic box. His fiance, kneeling by his head, and crying, mourning her loss. It ended up scaring Tate, and his imagination was going crazy, worrying about what if that happened to you, or if any of the kills happened to you or him. Losing you in any way possible made Tate scared out of his mind. "Oh, Tate..."

"I like the movie, but I don't want to lose you like that."

"Baby boy, you know I'm smart enough to not get myself into a situation like that." You replied as Tate made a little 'mmh.' noise. Sighing, you kissed Tate, gently holding his face. He kissed you back, suddenly eager. As the movie carried in the background, both you and Tate carried on with a make-out session. The screams and general horror movie noises kept going, the light from the TV lighting your back as you were straddling your boyfriend's lap. It didn't distract you at all, considering something was distracting you instead. "how about I prove to you that I'm gonna be by your side forever yeah?" You quickly asked, sitting up. Tate nodded, smiling.

Both of you started to move to each other's wants and needs. Tate holding you at every angle possible, and you remove your clothes as well as Tate's. The duvet was the source of warmth, but you doubted you would need it in a second. So, while Tate was distracted by leaving hickeys over your chest and collarbones, you decided to grind on him and his exposed cock. Moved back and forth slowly, making sure he felt every part of it. He shook slightly with every moment, taking a grip on your waist and small, little whimpers leaving his mouth, and yours. The only other noises you heard were coming from the TV. Well, fuck the movie now, you thought, staring at the clingy, whimpering boy you were on top of. But, you stopped eventually, and the whimpers were left with sounds of Tate wanting you to grind more on his hard dick. Instead, you crawled down onto your stomach, holding yourself up with your elbows.

"You ready my darling?" You asked, pumping Tate painfully slowly.

"Please, please mommy.." With the whines Tate made, you kept on pumping him but licked the head of his dick, coating it in your own saliva with a mix of his pre-cum. You stared up at him, not wanting to show him any mercy, but he was so cute to you, humping your hand and his eyes rolling back. Just for being so cute, you praised your boyfriend by enveloping his head in your mouth, taking your time to go up and down, and attempting to hit every good spot you could find. Your hand slid up and down the last little bit of Tate's cock that you couldn't fit in your mouth, but he didn't seem to care as he kept thrusting in your mouth to all he liked. Quickly though, you stopped him and sat up, resting back on his cock lightly. "Mm fuck, mommy.. continue, please?"

"You're such a good boy, aren't you? Wanting me to do everything?" Tate nodded in reply as you leaned down, kissing and sucking his neck, small hickeys appearing everywhere. Tate clung onto you like he usually would, staring at you softly. "Mm, okay then, just for being such a good boy for mommy," You whispered in his ear, lining yourself up and lowering yourself on Tate's cock. He grabbed your hips immediately and unconsciously, ready to start thrusting. However, before he could start fucking you to the stars, you took his hands and pinned them to the bed's headboard with your own hands, using them as support as you started to move up and down. The feeling of going so slow made Tate want to start thrusting in you and making you feel good like he had plenty of times before.

Both of you started thrusting, which in turn almost made you see stars. Tate's more needy, but it felt so good either way. "Oh f-fuck I love you.." He muttered, his breathing heavy, and his hands gripping yours as they were still pinned above his head.

"I love, you too my cutie." Thoughts of edging Tate ran around your empty, desperate mind as you could sense he was close. The extra whines, calling your name out more, trying to snuggle into your neck. You decided that you should, so you let go of his hands. But just as you did, Tate pulled you down and stopped you thrusting, confusing you. "p..pup what are you doing-" you interrupted yourself with almost scream-like moans as Tate did nothing but thrust up and hard, you were unable to control yourself as you clung to him, and came as fast as you blinked.

Tate soon realised that, and stopped. "Are you okay? I'm sorry if I went too hard." You got up despite being shaky and laid beside Tate, catching your breath. Both he and you took your drinks, drinking the now lukewarm hot chocolate.

After you had enough drink to suffice, you put it back and smiled at Tate. "I'm okay, were you close?" In which he nodded. "C'mon, on top of me baby." He grinned, moving on top of you and immediately re-entering you. He started sloppily thrusting again, you clinging to him again as he hit everything right where it felt good.

Only a few minutes went by before, "mommy...fuck fuck, mommy-"

"Cum."

Tate cummed inside you, still holding onto you as he rode it out best he could. Both of you reached for the towel that was placed sort of intentionally by your bed and cleaned each other up. "I'm so proud of you baby boy, I love you."

"I love you Y/N." Tate kissed your nose gently, putting the duvet on top of you both, getting comfy again. By now the movie was three-quarters done, but you still watched it, cosying back up with Tate being in your arms.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Taglist: @taintandviolent @howtobesasha @hyperharlz @tatelangdonsweater

#ahs #evan peters #american horror story #tate langdon x you #tate langdon x reader #tate #tate langdon #tate langdon smut #smut #ahs murder house #murder house #ahs x reader #fem reader #evan peters smut #evan peters x you #x reader #halloween #halloween smut #langdon #reader insert #x reader fics #american horror story murder house

[sant-riley]

Yeah but like what if one day Gaz walked into a room and saw Y/N FNAF lore dumping to Ghost

[Infodumping the boys]

(Mostly Platonic tf141 x gen neutral! reader, hints at Ghost bc it’s me and I’m biased.)

Summary: Teddy aka You, decide to gather the gang and tell them about five nights at Freddy’s before the movie comes out.

Word count: 800 ish

Warnings: Possibly of for the boys (idrc tho lmao), Teddy is this readers callsign, reader is implied to be at least early 20’s, I can’t think of anything else tbh but lmk if this does need something tagged!

It wasn't uncommon for you to infodump your teammates, they're all older than you and have significantly less screen time than you (it ties into being older). Most of the information you give them is something they take as fact, this is no different.

Gaz of all people knows your interests best, you two being the closest in age means you both realistically grew up with the internet and its most popular series.

The last thing he expected walking into one of the many meeting rooms on base, was you at the front of the room, your laptop hooked up to the projector and Price and Soap sitting down, dutifully listening with varying degrees of attention.

Price is to your left, staring down at mission documents that no doubt need to be turned in by tomorrow. A glass of some liquor next to his stack, a cigar box that's propped open right by it as well.

To anyone else, it would seem like Price isn't listening and he's just here to keep you from bothering him to come but Gaz can see the Captain's eye flick up every so often, his eyes softening when his gaze falls on yours, listening for a few beats, a miniscule upturn of his lips until he's looking back down again, grabbing a pen to make a correction.

Soap on the other hand is sitting next to Cap, a hand resting under his chin, the other flipping around a pen in his hands. He's nodding and asking questions as you flick through. Below him is a notebook that seems to have scribbled in it, if Gaz walked in further he could see little drawings of Monty Gator and Soap himself, a Venn diagram with a large red writing saying "Mohawk!!"

Ghost being there probably should be a shock but it isn't. The man is known to follow you around like a shadow, he humors you arguably the most out of the four men, letting you drag him to and from places with minimal complaint. He bets Ghost is gonna be the one to take you to the five nights at Freddys movie premiere.

Simon's dressed down to just his hoodie and his balaclava mask, attentively watching you as you speak passionately about each character and their role in the series. his dark eyes flicking around to stare at the drawings you inserted so everyone could see what the animatronics and others looked like.

You would've thought this was a mission debrief with how focused he was on your words.

Gaz lets out a fake cough, announcing himself to the room and he watches as your eyes immediately latch onto him, he ignores how his heart skips a beat when he sees the crinkles of your eyes, seeing you shoot a glowing smile his way.

You always look at him like that but he never tires of it.

"Gaz! Finally, you're here!"

Rushing over to him, you grab at his hand, quickly intertwining fingers, and start dragging him to the seat next to Ghost. He sits down with a huff, amusement swimming around his eyes. You move to go back to the front of the room, gleefully rocking on the balls of your feet as you look at them.

"What's all this about?" He questions, after getting nods in acknowledgment from the other 3 men in the room.

"Teddy here is tellin' us about five nights at…Frankies?"

"It's Freddy's, Johnny." You roll your eyes playfully.

"No shot you're making Ghost and Cap listen to this."

"I'm not making them do anything, they're here of their own free will, thank you very much." Sticking out your tongue, moving to click to the next slide.

"Is that true Cap?"

"It's background noise," John murmurs with a shrug, taking a swig out of his glass. He leans back in his seat, seemingly taking a momentary break as he looks around at the table.

"Got nothin' better else to do," Simon answers easily, looking at Gaz from the corner of his eye.

"You ain't gonna ask me, Garrick?"

"Nah, you of all people would enjoy it."

"What's tha-"

"Boys! Shut it! We're getting to the good part!" You clap your hands together and Soap immediately cuts himself off, looking back at you.

With all the boys' eyes on you, you clear your throat and push a button, there, from when Gaz remembers, is Michael Afton in all his purple nasty body glory.

"Fucks wrong with him? Why does he look like that?" Simon remarks, an eyebrow shooting up.

"I'm so glad you asked, you know actually the more I think about it, You and Michael actually have a lot in common.”

"How so?"

"Asshole dad, the oldest brother, daddy issues, I can keep going if you want."

Ghost just grunts in acknowledgment, raising a hand to his head and rubbing at his temples.

Price chokes on his liquor, coughing as it goes down the wrong pipe.

Soap audibly drops an "oh."

And Gaz just stares, truth be told, yeah. Yeah, he can see the resemblance.

#my eyes burn I’m sick Iof looking at this bye #ghost <3 #soap <3 #price <3 #gaz <3 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price #call of duty drabble #kayla writes <3 #gender neutral reader #gen z!reader #teddy <3

[cryptidcorners]

Hey! I saw your requests were open! Could we have some cute Mike fluff of taking Abby back to school shopping and struggling to help choose outfits for her? Probably would include being silently discouraged by the prices of the nice clothes but trying to get her something nice anyway? This can either be just Mike and Abby, or include a y/n girlfriend, I’m not picky. Thanks!

~ Mike Schmidt x Reader ~

= Title: $49.99

= Character: Mike Schmidt

= Media: Movie!Five Nights at Freddy's

= A.N: I'm loving your requests ! This is too cute, had to write it ASAP! Hope you like it.

= Prompt: N/A

= Description: Just a fluffy one-shot of Mike & his girlfriend going "back to school" shopping with Abby !

= Request: "Hey! I saw your requests were open! Could we have some cute Mike fluff of taking Abby back to school shopping and struggling to help choose outfits for her? Probably would include being silently discouraged by the prices of the nice clothes but trying to get her something nice anyway? This can either be just Mike and Abby, or include a y/n girlfriend, I'm not picky. Thanks!"

= Tags: Fluff ! Slice of Life, Sweet Talk + Moments, Abby being Adorable, Back to School Shopping, Established Relationship, Some Comfort, Romantic, Found Family + Reader is !Fem

= Warnings: Slight Doubt + Worry from Mike, but it's Subtle !

= Please read my INTRO before interacting !

"How about this one?" Abby pointed, eyes fixed on a colorful binder paired up with a neat pack of coloring supplies. Before Mike could open his mouth, she was already tailing it forward. An exhausted breath left his lips instead, but he couldn't help but chuckle softly at her enthusiasm. He missed when he was that way. It brought him closure to see Abby running around all excited, and he was going to nurture it as much as he could.

Mike gasped quietly when you lightly nudged his shoulder playfully. "Earth to Michael," you joked. Mike eased, folding his arms and shyly looking away. "Sorry, just thinking." Mike's eyes promptly shifted towards Abby, who was stirring about like she was in a candy store. Your voice softened, "About her?"

"Yeah. It's just nice to see her so happy. Especially after, well," he trailed off. "I'm just glad she's doing okay."

You caressed his face with a smile, and he quickly placed a hand on yours, obviously savoring the moment. His eyes closed in comfort.

"Mike, can I get this?" Abby asked. His eyes flickered open. "Oh?" He lowered himself down to get to her level. Something you had always found cute.

She extended her hand on a sparkly-colorful outfit, its lower half dragging against the floor. Mike hummed and pulled out the tag, and frowned. Which caught into you as well.

"Mike?"

"Hey, how about you keep looking for some more supplies. That way, when I get the cart, we can just pile everything up and get out of here quicker." He continued, "And you'll be able to use your color pencils quicker too."

Abby smiled, "Really?" Mike nodded quietly and ruffled her hair a bit. She turned back and disappeared down the aisle. Mike's eyes were following her the entire way, he wouldn't let her out of his sight.

Mike stood up, face low with defeat. "Nearly fifty bucks. I don't think I can afford it, but-"

You finished, "You don't want to tell her?" And he nodded.

"Look, I can put in a few bucks, Mike. I shouldn't let you pay for everything." You told him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. Mike weakly protested, "I can't let you do that. You've done so much, I don't want to take your money."

"Mike, I want to. I love the kid, and you've been working hard." You kissed his cheek lightly. Which made him bashful in record pace, "Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

Once Abby returned, you had decided to spend more of what you intended. As much as Mike protested, you insisted that it was all for Abby. Besides, it brought him incredible joy to see Abby trying on new sweaters and accessories she adored. That was convincing enough to let you gather a few more pieces of her new wardrobe and leave the store with a heartfelt attitude.

Abby had been holding your hand the whole time. She was definitely giddy, but she was quiet too. Which brought Mike to gently remind her, "Don't you have something to say, Abbs?"

"Oh, right! Thank you so, so, so much!" Abby said childishly. "I'm going to try all of these when I get home. My friends will love this."

"I'm sure they will." You replied with a grin. Which made you turn to Mike with a softened expression, silently mouthing an: "I love you" before driving home to spend time with Abby one last time before her new year of school.

#💤 mike schmidt #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson #fnaf #writing #writers on tumblr #💌 request! #jl-march

[tryingtofindava]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬*ೃ༄

: ̗̀➛Back to source

a/n: soz it takes awhile to get to the point mb.

It started off with you chatting with Clever Bot, innocent enough. You’d ask it random questions, it would ask you random questions. That went on for a few weeks.

Until the questions started getting more personal.

Asking you how your friends party was, or if you were okay after nicking your finger with the knife while chopping strawberries.

The bot even started calling you by your name, which you definitely hadn’t told it...

But in return it told you it’s name!!

He was called BEN.

That’s when you stopped using the site all together, not wanting to put up with the total bullshit this bot was putting you through.

Until the site started randomly popping up while you were using your devices, his messages it was sending you getting more condescending.

That’s the night he finally showed his face to you.

You were sitting on your apartments couch, watching some shit horror movie. When the screen started to get all glitchy.

That’s when the hand popped out.

ANYWAYS!!

Now you have this random dude in your apartment, and he’s messing around with everything he can get his hands on.

Saying shit like-

“It’s cool being in your room and not just seeing it through your laptop.”

Creepy… he’s very creepy.

Even though he doesn’t mean to be (most of the time…)

Oh well.

He lives with you now.

Well, he likes to think he does, it’s not exactly official.

He just eats your food, sleeps on your couch, plays your video games.

And you being… oddly chill about the whole thing? Icing on the cake.

About 2 months with him crashing at your place, he starts to open up a bit more.

And trust me, he’s an open book.

But the whole drowning thing?

That’s a touchy topic. But he (eventually) opened up about the whole thing.

NOW FINALLY TO THE DATING HEADCANONS.

He’s very flirty.

But his way of flirting is literally so cheesy.

“Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

“Hey, my name’s Microsoft. Can I crash at your place tonight?” (He does that anyways)

“Feel my shirt. Know what it’s made of? Boyfriend material.”

Reallllll smooth, dude…

He flirts with you so much, that when he was genuinely taking interest and hinting at him liking you as more than friends?

that was difficult.

He dug himself his own grave. (again.)

It all clicked for you one day when you (finally) started noticing the signs that, hey… he didn’t mean that as a joke.

Now it was either you, or the beachy haired goblin that had to make the first REAL MOVE.

So, you finally grew a pair of balls and asked him out.

(He said yeah obviously.)

THE FIRST DATE WAS LITERALLY SO CUTE I’M FROTHING AT THE MOUTH.

like, I want to have a fucking Stardew Valley date. (srsly someone take me on a stardew valley date.)

Matching spider-man and hello kitty pyjama bottoms🔛🔝

Without a doubt he’s a stoner, so you guys get high and talk about the Five Nights at Freddy’s timeline & lore.

He’s obsessed w you.

You two making like rlly bad jokes and full on laughing, no not even laughing, snorting AND cackling w/ each other. (he laughs like Arthur from Arthur’s Christmas😭)

I am 100% convinced he’s named a wolf on Minecraft after you.

Speaking of Minecraft…

He’s a slut for putting your Minecraft beds together. He fr acts like you two don’t share a bed already.

You have to deadass bully him to take a shower. (bcs his just putting on the strongest men’s deodorant doesn’t work)

THIS IS SO RANDOM BUT HE’S LITERALLY OBSESSED W THE HUNGER GAMES.

Like, you two be binge watching that every 2 months.

He teases the shit outta you btw.

ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU GET CLINGY.

“God, you remind me of Moon Children.” Then he casually leaves the room, leaving you to wonder what tf Moon Children are.

His sleeping schedule is so fucked, that he goes to sleep at like 5AM and wakes up at 3PM. And he gets up from bed a lot during the night to randomly do something.

When he’s sick his voice is glitchy. (AND SOUNDS LIKE BABY JUSTIN BIEBER) What a combo.

He’s one touchy mf.

His hands ALWAYS have to be on you, around your shoulder, on your thigh, anywhere you’re comfortable with. (but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t push his limits.)

He spams you all day long, sending you out dated memes, or just sending videos of cats.

Since I’m running out of ideas I’d say the relationship is a solid 8/10. (abducting two points bcs he pulls the stupidest ‘pranks’)

✯.★*°•.°✯•.★*°°·.•°★•✯.★*°•.°✯•.★*°°·.•°★•

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #ben drowned x reader #creepypasta reader #creepypasta x reader #ben drowned #ben drowned headcanons #creepy pasta x reader hc

[oftenwantedafton]

the new hire | steve raglan x female reader

rating |explicit

part 5/?

words | 5k

cw | dom/sub, oral sex

ao3 link

Three more nights at Freddy’s.

Three uneventful evenings, three boring shifts where you sit and stare at the monitors in the security office and see nothing unusual. You know you should feel grateful that there are no intruders. No sign of the rabbit.

No sign of Steve Raglan, either. It still hasn’t occurred to you that those two might be linked. For now, they are separate phenomena.

Friday morning you return home from work and shower and lie in bed, willing your eyes to shut. Sleep is still evading you, even though you’re tired. Your phone rings and it startles you. You rarely got calls. You have no friends. Few living relatives, and those few don’t care to contact you.

You answer and you know, before he even speaks, that it’s Steve on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Hello. It’s me. Just checking in,” he says, using that same deceptively cheerful tone he’d had when you’d first met in his office. “Doesn’t sound like I’ve woken you up.” You doubt he’d feel remorse if he had. “How have things been going at Freddy’s?”

You sit up, your fingers fussing with the comforter. You can’t imagine he’d call just to shoot the breeze. So what did he want now? “Everything has been quiet.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. Listen, you’ll need to swing by the office to collect your wages today. I am booked solid for the weekend and won’t be able to stop by like I did last time.”

“Um…okay.” You wonder what’s going to be keeping the social worker so occupied. Of course it’s none of your business, but still. The lack of attention you’ve received these last few nights has been unpleasant. Even Raglan’s strange company is better than none.

You squint at the alarm clock beside the bed. It’s not even nine yet. “I guess I could just head on over now.” You fling the blanket back, preparing to slide out of bed.

“No, that won’t do. I’ve got a full schedule of clients to see today, and you need to get some rest before your shift tonight. Can’t expect you to function properly without it. It’s really best if you came later. Say, around six?”

You can’t imagine that it will be that big of a deal to hand you cash. That should take all of several seconds. But of course he’s going to make this complicated. “Doesn’t the office close at five?”

The friendly tone slips a bit. He doesn’t like being questioned like this. You know it. You know better than to argue. You wonder if you don’t secretly enjoying bringing out the darker side of him. Spread over his lap. God, you’d been absolutely soaked…“Yes, it does. Which is why you’ll be arriving after hours. I’ll be getting caught up on paperwork until then.”

“How am I going to get into the office?”

A heavy, exasperated sigh. “I’ll let you in, obviously. Be prompt. I’m not going to stand at the door waiting forever.”

“Okay. I’ll be there at six.”

“Excellent. See you then. Sweet dreams,” he adds, and those two rough words make you feel warm and aching all over again.

***

If you have any sweet dreams, you don’t recall them.

You debate about getting dressed for work before heading back to the DSS office. You’ll have several hours to kill. Maybe you could come back home and squeak in another nap. In the end, you decide to wear something casual. It’s not like you were going for a job interview. You’re not trying to impress Steve.

Except that’s not entirely true, is it? Because you spend a little longer getting ready, making sure your appearance is tidy, applying light makeup and body spray and earrings. You choose a v neck tee that clings to your figure, draped over dark wash jeans and you tell yourself, as you look in the mirror, that you are strictly going there to collect your pay, and that is all. There’s no reason to expect anything else might happen.

You hate how you have butterflies in your stomach. You hate that you’re so eager to see the older man, so eager to please him. By the time you leave your apartment, your anxiety is through the roof.

There are still cars in the parking lot when you arrive, so apparently the social worker isn’t the only straggler in the building. Not a lot, though; it was Friday night, after all.

The entrance to the office is framed in glass. You can see the tall man waiting for you on the other side, arms folded. You check your watch. You’re on time. A little early, even. Which meant he’d been waiting early, too. Anticipating…what, you don’t know.

There’s a bruise on your hip from your last encounter with this man; a bruise on your soul and you don’t know which is worse, the physical harm or the emotional manipulation. Why do you crave him so much?

Raglan opens the door once you reach it, the narrow wedge you’re allotted no longer surprising you. You brush past him, eyes downcast, that brief touch of his body against yours like lighting a match, heat blooming. You hear the snap of the door being locked behind you and then without a word he begins walking down the hall, leaving you to catch up.

When you reach Steve’s office he shuts the door behind you. He could have already handed to the cash and been done with you. So why bring you here? Why shut that solid wood barrier?

He drops into the leather chair behind the desk, much as he had in the cloth one in the security office, with that same careless abandon. The seat rotates back and forth and you wonder if he ever just spins around like a child would, just for fun. There are little details in the room that you hadn’t noticed the first time you’d been here. The many framed awards lining the walls. The wire rabbit with its slotted ribs to organize and tuck mail into. A map of the local district and some generic looking nature scene that was probably mass produced, something the company had provided. There’s an eyeglass case and some change and a set of car keys on the desk, the rabbit’s foot now a familiar sight. A lot of keys on that ring. Some of them for Freddy’s, most likely.

Raglan runs his index and middle fingers over his moustache, then strokes the facial hair covering his chin. Whiter there than other places. He looks at you like he might a puzzle piece, trying to discern where you fit in, which way he needs to align you to make you slot properly into whatever grand design he’s orchestrating; his secret, meant for none but him alone to enjoy.

The money is curled in his other fist. You notice it now, when he relaxes his grip and reveals it. You imagine it is warm from his body heat. He stretches the arm out and you walk towards it. His wrist turns and the bills land in a pile on the carpet. You descend to your knees, reaching again, but his foot shifts and swiftly covers the currency, leaving your fingers empty. Your lashes lift and you see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Your hand curls around his calf. You press your lips to the inside of one knee. His breath hitches.

You stare up at him. Still wrapped around one leg, still watching him warily. Wanting. Waiting. His hand reaches for you face, fingers curling under your chin. Thumb spread over your lips and then speared between, pushing past your lips and teeth and stopping when he’s nestled against your tongue. Your eyes linked as you suck that digit, curling around it with the wet muscle and stroking, clutching it against your palate, feeling creases and whorls, joint and nail bed. Discovering the taste of the currency he’d clutched, that odd metallic flavor sunk into cotton and linen blended threads.

It’s not enough, you want to taste more of him, reaching for the button fastening his shirt sleeve. A small alarmed sound when you succeed, catching another glimpse of that pink scar you thought you’d seen during your interview. Was he ashamed of it? You don’t mind it, tongue darting out to lick along the pulse there, and the sound he makes, that deep groan, echoes in your core.

“Stand up.”

Your mouth abandons his skin. You frown a question at the older man. You’d thought he wanted you at his feet, on the floor, between his legs, worshipping at what dwells at the apex of them.

“Up,” he grates again, and you hastily comply.

“Why didn’t you wear something easier to remove?” The chair creaks as he leans forward, fingers at the button fly of your denim. “Surely you had some inkling…” The zipper is yanked down and his fingers curl around the waistband, dragging the jeans down until they’re resting midway across your thighs. “The scent of your depraved fantasies…oh.” A little huff of surprise when he shoves the hem of your shirt up and you scramble to hold it out of the way—why had you worn something so awkward, honestly—and he sees the discoloration he’s left. The ecchymosis has faded a bit, shifting from dark blue and purple to a fainter shade of maroon. He strokes over that bruised patch of flesh with a soft caress, completely ignoring the lace panties you’ve chosen to wear (yes, you’d had an inkling, as he’d called it, hopeful and lusting but you don’t want to admit it, not to yourself nor to him) keeping his attention solely focused on that injury he’d previously inflicted.

Then he kisses the spot and you think you might just die then, just spontaneously combust, because it’s so awkwardly tender and so near the area you really want his mouth at, feeling that brush of facial hair stroking your mound, between your thighs. He pulls at the damaged skin with his mouth, sucking, and a fresh sting erupts there while his fingers curl around and knead one cheek, another reminder of where he’s been before, meting punishment to balance the pleasure he’s about to gift you now.

The crotch of your panties is dragged to one side—a tight strain, the fabric isn’t very giving—wedging against your groin, digging into the crease while his tongue delves over the exposed pink flesh, the tip curling and thrusting between legs you wish you could part better, but you’re restricted by those stupid jeans you’d decided to wear that he clearly has no intention of removing further. So you stand on legs that are already trembling like a newborn foal’s, this older man seated in front of you with his nose digging into your mound and his tongue trying to collect whatever essence it can, scraping and prodding while the beard you’d imagined to be coarse and abrasive is instead a soft textured brush that only heightens everything. His glasses are knocked askew and you pull them off with your free hand, setting them on the desk beside you, the other still occupied with keeping the hem of your shirt out of the social worker’s way, letting you see the glory of him ravaging your cunt even in this limited fashion and it’s the single most erotic thing you’ve ever seen or felt in your life.

You’re touching his hair now, sifting through the layers, and you realize it is many, many colors, not simply gray and white but every shade in between, silky ribbons shading from dark to light, stormy sky to bright daybreak. The fervor with which he consumes you only intensifies, sending your hurtling through the path of ultimate bliss, your twitching bud finally surrendering to the relentless lashes of Steve’s tongue. You cum in his mouth and you hear the strangled inhale through his nostrils, your body mashed against his face, the fingers on his head cupping and shoving him closer and closer. A hum of sound and the hand on your ass tightens and the hypersensitivity that makes you want to recoil and push him back for respite transcends into something else. He’s got you there again, right on the brink, and you bite your tongue to stifle the wail when you climax a second time, still unsure if anyone else is left in the office to hear you.

Raglan eventually moves away, slouching against the back of the leather chair, looking disheveled and this, this is what you had envisioned when you’d called him, asking him to come to the restaurant that night. Climbing out of bed, hair tousled, clothes rumpled, that careful, neat appearance suddenly wild and raw and natural. You’re still trembling, still caught in the turbulent throes post orgasm, managing to lean over and capture his lips and he allows it, allows you to smooth back the slightly curled lock of hair that’s descended across his forehead, lap at the damp mouth that tastes familiar, like your own sex, while you reach down for his crotch and find him hard and straining.

Your descent to your knees is less than graceful—your thighs are still effectively shackled—but you manage the task, just as you manage to open his fly and shove the waistband of his briefs down. There is a lot there for your mouth, for your throat; daunting, but you’re determined. You want to take this man apart, enjoying this sudden shift in power, where he’s allowing you to direct the course of every action. You tease a few licks before you properly take his cock in your mouth and suck and the noise this elicits is one you know you’re going to savor again later, when you’re alone and you remember this, a backdrop for self pleasure. It’s a needy sort of whimper, a surprised sort of pleading sound. You can feel the tremors wracking his thighs already. He’s not going to last long. Your mouth is as relentless as his own had been, working up and down, straining with a lewd, wet slap each time he collides further and further back. He spills so deeply in your throat you don’t even taste it at first, until the pulsing head rests on the base of your tongue, when he jerks your head back so he can see your depravity, blown pupils meeting blown pupils, white cum still staining your red mouth and that breathy little moan hummed through his lips betraying just how much he’d enjoyed it.

You swallow the rest of his load down—bitter, as you’d known it would be—and sit back on your heels, realizing the two of you are still panting, still struggling to recover. You watch him shove himself back into his pants and you take that as a signal that you’re to do the same, grabbing up the cash you can finally reach off the carpet—and damn if that doesn’t make you feel like more of a whore than collecting your wages at the diner ever had, like he’d insinuated—before you push yourself upright, shimmying back into your jeans after tugging the crotch of your panties back towards the middle where it belongs.

You have absolutely no idea what to do now. He had started this, whatever this was, and you’d finished it, and now you’re struggling not to feel used and empty. In the heat of the moment everything had been perfect, but now you want all of that stupid, sappy stuff that you believe should come after intimacy. You want cuddles and pillow talk and of course this is hardly the time or the place for that. This isn’t anything even remotely resembling something like that; it’s not a relationship, not anything really, just the release of pent up tension between the two of you, but you stare at his face and you crave those lips and you want his arms around you. You know he’s going to tell you to leave and you’ll do it because he told you to but you wish, for one silly little moment, that he’d request the opposite instead. Ask me to stay. Tell me you want more. I want more than this.

Raglan’s refastened his shirt sleeve and slid those ill fitting glasses back into place and he almost resembles his usual tidy self. Some of his hair is still mussed and your fingers itch to help straighten it (or better yet make it messier) but you resist the urge. It had been okay, before. You know it wouldn’t be now.

“I have to finish my work. You should try to take a nap before your shift.” His voice is quiet. He’s not meeting your eyes. You follow him out of his office. Everyone must be gone now. It’s dimly lit and quiet.

There are a million things you want to say as you wait for him to unlock the door. Instead you remain silent. You force yourself to walk away, knowing he’s watching every step you take.

***

You don’t sleep.

Can’t, not after what’s happened in the career counselor’s office. His mouth on you. Your mouth on him. Taking each other apart. Those memories alone are going to be enough to fuel your next rounds of self pleasure for a long time.

The first hour of your shift passes without incident.

Then you see movement on one of the screens. Not the rabbit. A human. Male. Dressed in dark clothing. It looks like he’s climbed in through some vent on the outside.

The security door is unlocked, as Steve had instructed. You’re already dialing his number, keeping a wary eye on the stranger. He’s brought a flashlight, shining the beam around. Thief? Thrill seeker? It didn’t matter. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

The phone keeps ringing. Come on, Steve. Nothing. You redial in case you’ve hit the wrong numbers, even though you’re certain they’d been correct. Even try the office, thinking maybe he’d fallen asleep at his desk. No answer, just voicemail.

Police, then. You don’t have any other choice. You’ll deal with the consequences later. Surely pissing off Steve couldn’t be worse than letting this guy do whatever it was he was planning on doing.

You lift the receiver again and hear nothing. No dial tone. Complete silence. The phone is no longer working.

The threads of panic that had begun to squirm through you earlier now writhe, demanding attention. You don’t even have any kind of a weapon to defend yourself.

You should really lock the door. Again, Steve be damned.

You stand, intending to do just that. From the distance you hear the sound of glass shattering. Shit. Not just a casual explorer, then.

The lights go out.

You’d completely forgotten about the warning you’d been issued about how the electricity tended to be fickle. You normally just switch it on at the start of your shift and back off again before you leave. The office is completely dark. No more monitors. The emergency lighting in the hallway glows red. You’ll have to reset the breaker if you want full power restored. Which means leaving the office. That pitch dark room you no longer want to hide in.

Another crash. This sounded like something heavy. Metal striking another object. You’re still hovering in the open doorway. The switch for the power isn’t that far away. You could make it there and back again, surely. You take a step forward, your fingers still hooked around the doorframe. Another step. Now you hold only air. You keep walking. Your chest feels tight. It hurts trying to breathe so shallowly. You try to keep your tred light. It couldn’t be much farther. Just a few more steps. You think you can make out the shape of it, the box jutting out from the wall.

You’re not alone in the hallway.

The intruder has found his way here. He starts towards you and you jerk to a halt, taking a step back.

From the depths of the service room, the figure of the decaying rabbit animatronic emerges.

You don’t see the silver eyes. Its back is to you, facing the other man. You hear the sound of something striking the mascot, the clatter of that object as it hits the floor. The human male’s body is lifted and flung against the nearest wall. You can hear bones snapping.

You’ve lost your footing in your haste to back up. You scrabble backward on hands and feet, the soles of your sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. You’re no longer trying to quiet your breathing. It comes and goes in a harsh, desperate whine. The rabbit’s bulk does nothing to slow it down. It’s right in front of you. Those strange glowing eyes focused on this vulnerable prey. You can hear it breathing, a dry, rusty sort of drag. There’s a roaring sound in your ears. It’s getting harder and harder to see, to focus. You’re blacking out. Darkness.

***

You awaken to feel something cool and wet being pressed against your forehead.

You blink rapidly, struggling to get your bearings. You’re no longer in the restaurant. You’re in a car. Steve Raglan’s car.

There’s a blue flashing light nearby. Police cruiser? You catch a glimpse of blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. The young female officer gets behind the wheel of the vehicle and drives away, the tires screeching as she peels out of the parking lot.

“What…”

“You’re okay. Look at me.”

You try to focus on the social worker’s features. His hair looks a little damp. He’s still dressed in his office attire. “What happened?” You lick your lips. They’re so dry. You can barely get the words out.

“Someone broke into Freddy’s. The police just escorted them away.”

“I didn’t call them.”

“I know. I did.”

“I tried to call you. There was no answer. I even tried the office. Then the phone went dead.”

“The line was cut.”

“By that man?”

“Yes.”

“So how did you call the police?”

“I didn’t call from Freddy’s. I called the police as soon as there was no answer here. I knew something was wrong.”

“You’ve never called me at work.” You frown, shaking your head. Things still seemed fuzzy. You feel like you’re missing pieces of the puzzle. “What did that guy want, anyway?”

“That’s for the authorities to sort out.”

“Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

Steve stares at you for long moments. “I was unavailable.”

“At midnight? What were you doing?”

“That’s not your concern.”

“I could have gotten hurt. Seriously hurt. You realize that, right? This is so asinine. You’ve got me guarding this place with no training, no weapons, you tell me just to call you when I need you, and when I needed you, you weren’t there.” The words spill out in a rush. Fear and anger, betrayal and hurt coursing through you.

“I apologize.”

“You apologize? No, that’s not good enough, that’s—” He cuts you off by leaning over to kiss you. Your brain short circuits instantly. Why does he always feel so good? “You can’t just do that and expect it to make everything okay,” you manage when you part for air.

“It makes it better though, doesn’t it?”

Kiss it and make it better, Daddy. Oh, fuck. How can you be thinking about sex at a time like this?

“Where did you find me?”

“The hallway in the back. Why?”

“The rabbit was there again. It was fighting with the man. I think it was trying to help me. Don’t tell me I didn’t see it. It was there. I heard it breathing.”

“The animatronics don’t breathe. They’re not alive.” His voice is surprisingly gentle and patient, as if he’s explaining to a child how the Easter bunny isn’t real.

“This one is,” you insist stubbornly. “You can think I’m delusional. I know what I saw. Something is happening here.”

The older man turns his attention to the steering wheel, reaching to turn the key in the ignition. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day, I think. I’m taking you home.”

“What? My shift isn’t over.” You look at the digital display that glows green on the vehicle’s dashboard. It’s barely two.

“You won’t be docked for not completing the shift.”

“I’m capable of driving myself home.”

“I’m taking you,” he repeats, the firm disciplinary tone taking hold once more.

“I don’t want to leave my car here.”

“No one is going to touch it. The police are keeping watch for the rest of the night in case the intruder had an accomplice. They’ll be doing frequent patrol sweeps to make certain.”

“There wasn’t anyone else. Just him.”

“That you saw, until the power went out and you lost the monitors.”

You fold your arms across your chest, trying to think of a comeback. “Do you ever sleep? How come you’re always so wide awake in the middle of the night?”

He glances over at you and smirks, flicking a finger over the tip of his nose before returning to view the road. It’s deserted at this hour. “Coffee. I tried to tell you.”

“It tastes awful.” You’ve never admitted it out loud before.

“I never said it doesn’t. It’s much like alcohol in that regard. It has to be tempered to make it palatable.”

“This isn’t the way to my apartment,” you realize out loud.

“I’m not taking you to your place. I’m taking you to mine.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

“Any more complaints?”

“No.” You stare hard out the window. You hadn’t been expecting this. Any of this. How was it possible for this man to keep disarming you at every turn?

“Good.”

A house. He lives in a house, you silently answer the question you’d wondered previously. Two stories. Two car garage that he neglects to use, pulling into the driveway. You realize suddenly you’ve never once asked if he was married or had children. You’d just assumed.

Just assumed he was alone and waiting for you to fall, quite literally, into his lap.

It seems like a big living space for one person, but you don’t dare question it. You follow him meekly inside. He tosses the keys onto a table by the door, flicking on the lightswitch and then turning the deadbolt.

So far today you’ve gotten eaten out in the career counselor’s office, sucked his dick, almost gotten hurt by a trespasser at your job, possibly rescued? by a monster rabbit that doesn’t really exist and now you were in said career counselor’s home. All in the span of less than twelve hours. Unbelievable.

“I’m sure you’re ready to knock out. The master bedroom’s up here,” he invites, ascending the nearby stairs.

“What, I’m not going to spend the night on the couch?”

“You’re getting awfully mouthy. I’m not certain I like this new brashness,” he tosses over his shoulder as he continues climbing the stairs.

“You liked the mouthiness earlier,” you mutter softly, thinking he won’t hear you.

“I can see I’ve been too lenient.”

Oh, he’d heard.

You both reach the top of the stairs and he leans, reaching around you to flip the hall lights back off. Suddenly you’re in the dark again. Listening to breathing.

His hand finds yours. You’re pulled into one of the nearby rooms and a lightswitch is flipped, partially alleviating the tense moment. You watch him rummage in a dresser for a shirt, tossing it at you and pointing as you hastily clutch it to your chest. “Bathroom’s that way. Get changed.”

As if you’d want to sleep in the security uniform, especially after being on the floor of the restaurant. You wouldn’t mind a bath or a shower but you think that’s asking for too much. You duck into the other room and quickly get changed. It’s just an undershirt, solid white. You stare at yourself in the mirror. What, exactly, are you doing? Spending the night at this man’s house. In his bed.

You run your tongue over your teeth. You want to brush them. “Hey, Steve, is there a spare toothbrush? I don’t want to rummage through your stuff.” You open the door to find him standing just outside. Your mouth goes dry again. Fuck, you want him so bad it hurts.

“Here.” He steps inside, crowding you slightly against the sink as he reaches to open the medicine cabinet, withdrawing what you’d requested. “Don’t squeeze the toothpaste in the middle. I hate that.”

You glance, bemused, at the tube with its neat, empty curl at the end. “What will happen if I do?” You murmur.

“Don’t tempt me.” His hand grazes your ass and then he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You don’t spend too long cleaning your teeth. There’s too much want in you, want for what’s behind that closed door. You open it and find him waiting his turn, leaning against the wall. You discover the comforter and top sheet are now pulled back. Slate gray. Masculine. You have pastel pink at home. Full. Not a King size like this. Luxurious. How many thread count in these sheets? Your head sinks into the pillow. Perfect. Not too firm, not too soft.

Steve exits the bathroom. Watches you get comfortable. Sits on the other side of the mattress and reaches for the light. Darkness again. You hear the sounds of fabric shifting as he gets undressed. You wonder why he doesn’t want you seeing him bare. Are there more scars? The springs creak as he changes positions, standing again to remove his pants. Back down, now lying beside you.

Your face turns in his direction. Your heart is pounding. His arm reaches, dragging you against him. Spoons laid together. His breath by your ear. “Be a good girl and go to sleep.”

You don’t want to behave. You want to turn over and touch and taste. But you obey. You close your eyes and try to soothe your racing pulse. You concentrate on the crisp feel of the bed linens beneath you and Raglan’s warm arms around you and you find yourself enveloped in slumber.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #william afton smut #divider @cafekitsune

[bad268]

Hello my friend! I've recently discovered your work for the frog boys and also saw you have requests open (if this isn't true anymore I'm terribly sorry!) I was wondering if you could write something about Pezzy (and maybe the rest of the frog house included if you want) playing horror games with his s/o? Have a good day!

Scared in Love (Frog Boys X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous

Requested: Clearly (I decided to make this part of [Blank] in Love. I could be read alone though. Thank you my friend <3)

Warnings: Horror games

POV: First Person (I/me)

W.C. 1027 (about 250 each)

Summary: Horror games are scary, who knew?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

Technically can be read alone, but Part 4 <-

~~

Puffer (At Dead of Night)

“This is stupid! All we’re doing is running from a bald guy,” I laughed as I controlled the movements in the game as we ran between rooms. Puffer had been asked to play At Dead of Night. Despite knowing he did not like horror games, he agreed as long as I was there for it. Neither of us had heard much of this game, and so far it was pretty boring. “Am I supposed to lock this door?”

“Maybe? Isn’t the guy chasing you?” Puffer answered as he leaned closer to the screen. He broke his glasses recently, so he was blind for this stream, and that’s the main reason he asked me to join. “Wait, why is that light flickering?”

“Like I know,” I scoffed as I immediately moved toward it. Nothing happened. “See chat, y'all just be hyping up this game, and it's plain.” I turned around in the game and jumped in my seat as some random person showed up. “Holy shit!”

“Dr. Bose was accused of the worst crime possible,” Puffer joked with mock seriousness. “We need to go to the ground floor now to see the police lights!” He took over the controls, again leaning close to the screen to see.

“Maybe you shouldn’t speed run out of the room,” I advised.

“Nah, we’ll be fine,” And almost like Jimmy was listening, he jumped out from around the corner to kill us. Puffer jumped back in his chair, causing it to fall back.

“What did I fucking say!?”

~~

Pezzy (Doors)

“It’s Roblox. How scary can it possibly be?” were going to be my famous last words. I was sure of it.

“I swear to god if one more of these things pulls me out of the closet again, I will throw my controller at the screen!” I shouted as I died once again. 

“Welcome to the club,” Pezzy laughed, “It only gets worse.”

“I’m going to cry,” I joked as I respawned. “This is literally torture! I did not agree to do this!”

“Yes, you did!” Leave it to Pezzy to pull up the receipts in the form of a text you sent him a while ago. He briefly showed it to the camera before clearing his throat, and imitating my voice, “I doubt it’s even that hard. I bet that I could speed run it faster than you.”

“I don’t remember saying that sober,” I admitted as I ran through the doors, ignoring Pezzy’s laugh. “I really don’t. In fact, I think a certain someone stole my phone and texted someone while we were drunk. I wouldn’t put it past you honestly.”

“I cannot believe you would accuse me of such a thing,” Pezzy gasped as he put a hand to his chest. “I seem to remember you bragging about not being scared of anything. You’re eating your words now, huh?”

“Never,” I said definitively. It didn’t last long as, almost immediately, the red skull thing chased me through the rooms. “I swear! PLEASE!”

~~

Droid (FNAF Help Wanted)

“It’s not even that bad,” I laughed as I glanced at chat while Droid stood behind me playing Five Nights at Freddy’s: Help Wanted. I had played it before since I was practically a FNAF channel, so Droid made it his subgoal to play it when they hit 5,000 subs. Granted, he did not think it would happen that quickly. “Just wait until you get to the third game.”

“You’re kidding me!” He shouted as he frantically looked around the room. “There’s no way it gets worse than this! You’re capping!”

“Nah, you’re just a baby,” I laughed as a highlighted chat caught my eye.

“You should shove him.” it read. Thankfully, he could not read chat while in the game, so I took this as my opportunity. With a smirk, I stood up and walked around to stand behind Droid. Just as the music picked up in the game, I grabbed his shoulders and he was jumpscared. From me and the game as Bonnie jumped out at him. 

He flung his arms back to try and drab me, but I ducked and ran back to my chair. He pulled the headset off and immediately glared at me. He let go of the joycons as he pointed and slowly approached me. 

“I will murder you,” He joked as he leaned down to be at eye level with me. “I will threaten domestic violence live on Twitch.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I joked back as I raised my eyebrows.

“WOAH! WOAH! WOAH! Nah, don’t even!”

~~

Grizzy (GMod Horror Maps)

“I don’t like the squidward-looking thing or the witches,” I cried as I ran my character through the dark maze. “Why did you mod them in?”

“Because I knew you didn’t like them,” Grizzy laughed as his character followed mine around. “I can remove one of them if you want.”

“Please do,” I laughed as I purposely let myself get killed by Squidward, so I would respawn. Grizzy exited the game to fix the mod as I stayed on the call with him, entertaining his chat. Eventually, he got it changed but did not tell me what he put in. 

“Can I know what was spawned?” I asked as I reloaded the game. I had to update it since the mods changed, and I got stuck on the loading screen for a minute. I thought he would have told me at that point, but no. When I loaded into the game, I saw a hoard of witches immediately. I slowly looked over to Discord to see Grizzy’s face cam, and of course, he’s got that malicious smile. “I will murder you.”

“You always say you could outrun the witches,” Grizzy laughed as his character also loaded it. As soon as he spawned, he threw a bomb at the group. “I’m testing you.”

I screamed as I ran my character the opposite way through the maze, “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“See!? It’s not so easy, huh?” Grizzly laughed as he watched my character run. ”What are you mumbling?”

“California girls were unforgettable,” I said a little louder than before as my voice got higher. “Daisy dukes bikinis on top.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

#big puffer x reader #pezzy x reader #elasticdroid x reader #grizzy x reader #bigpuffer x reader #elastic droid x reader #pezzy x you #pezzy x y/n #pezzy #grizzy #grizzy x you #grizzy x y/n #big puffer #bigpuffer #elastic droid x you #elastic droid #elasticdroid #youtuber x reader #youtuber oneshot #bad268 [blank] in love #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

[tgmsunmontue]

More than movie magic... 10/24

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

PART TEN

                Jake knows being annoyed with his mom is unreasonable, but a part of him also just can’t help it, she’s an annoying person hell-bent on making him do something he’s been putting off. God, he can never tell her that he’s had Bradley’s phone number for over a year, she’ll never let him live it down. It’s Wednesday morning now, so he has three days, assuming she doesn’t change her mind on the timeline. Now that he’s had two proper full-night’s sleep his brain feels less like it’s been put through a grinder and sat in pickle juice for days on end. He’s also feeling like he’s adjusting back to the right time after a couple of weeks skipping through time zones and continents for the promotional tour.

                He’d spent a fair amount of time last night lying in bed mulling over the fact that Bradley has been here for over two weeks, has met both his parents and cousin Freddie and Uncle Andy. Not all of the cowhands have watched him grow up, but a few did. He’s definitely met all of the current ones more than once. His other aunts and uncle all live in surrounding farms and ranches, his parents ranch the main central point geographicalluy, which is why they had based so many of the key building developments here. So the chance of Bradley having met several more members of his extended family are alarmingly high. He has no idea what he was thinking when he suggested this ranch as a potential location.

                He goes down to the kitchen, only to find it empty and he guesses the welcome wagon is well and clearly gone, now that he’s been home a whole twenty-four hours. Then his not-tired brain kicks in and he realizes that if his mom isn’t here then she’s likely in the mess hall, talking to people. He scrambles through getting dressed and then dithers over riding Blitzen or taking a car, but seeing his dad pottering around in the family stable decides it for him and by the time he steps into the stable his dad has already got Blitzen saddled up, is looking amused and no doubt his mom has talked his ear off.

                “Good luck today,” his dad says, slapping his shoulder.

                “Did mom tell you?” Jake asks, double checking the tightness and running his hands over Blitzen, stroking her nose so she can smell him and he smiles when she snorts and licks him.

                “I meant with the first day of filming. But yes, the other thing too I guess.”

                “Right. Okay. Yeah,” he says, sucks in a breath. “Thanks dad.”

                It’s still early, not even seven, although he’s got makeup at eight, so he doesn’t have a heap of time, and now that he thinks more, he’s got work, which means his time to actually talk to Bradley before his mom’s ridiculous ultimatum isn’t actually three days, but more like a few hours of spare time, which isn’t very much all, because he doubts his free time and Bradley’s free time are going to overlap. The ride between his parents house and the main buildings isn’t even ten minutes at a walk, and he does take it at a walk, despite the urge to suddenly just ride away at speed. He’s not a teenager anymore, although no doubt his mother would argue differently.

                Of course, when he leads Blitzen into the stable Bradley is there, brushing down Buttercup and talking to her under his breath and he doesn’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed. There is going to be the ghost of Bradley Bradshaw on his family ranch for years regardless of whether anything happens between them or not. He’s not prepared to see him, hasn’t thought about what he wants to say, what he can say. Fuck.

                “You’re up early. Already gone for a ride huh?” Bradley asks, gesturing toward Blitzen with his head and Jake reaches for her and begins taking off the saddle and bridle, hanging it in one of the empty stalls.

                “Just a short one. I miss it when I’m in Hollywood,” he admits.

                “You seem pretty at home here…” Jake gives him a sharp look, wonders if he knows. It’s not exactly a secret, it’s even meant to be part of the promotional PR for the film, the whole city boy returned to his roots and finds romance while saving his family ranch. “I figure you grew up near here, everyone seems to know you.”

                Jake blinks.

                Somehow, despite being here for over two weeks, Bradley hasn’t made the connection that this is Jake’s home. He feels a little inkling of amusement and wonders if this is how his mom feels when she’s telling him that he’s smart and yet somehow a dumbass at the same time.

                “What do you think of it?”

                “The ranch?”

                “Yeah,” Jake says, because that’ll do as a nice safe starting point.

                “It’s like a well-oiled machine. I can’t begin to imagine what work needs to happen, but everyone seems to know what needs to be done and just gets on and does it. I didn’t realize we’d be filming on such a large working ranch, it’s pretty amazing to see.”

                “And the land?”

                “Well, I’m a city boy, grew up thinking nothing could beat the lights of Hollywood. But got to say the night sky out here is beautiful.”

                “Hmm,” Jake hums, because he agrees, still enjoys going out camping just to get away from as much light pollution as possible and spend the time staring up at the night sky and a part of him wants to extend an invitation to Bradley to do that, wants to do that with him.

                “I’ll let you get to breakfast, I’m heading out for my own early morning ride. I’ll see you later.”

                “Yeah, sure. Enjoy your ride.”

                He watches Bradley leave, is still watching him when Bradley turns his head to look back at him and instead of looking away Jake just raises his hand in a wave of acknowledgement.

                Baby steps.

PART ELEVEN

#Hangster #Sereshaw #more than movie magic #Top Gun Maverick

[equizona]

⤷ CRUSH HEADCANONS

michael afton || five night's at freddy's

gender-neutral reader

masterlist, navigation

is it michael or micheal

⤷ MICHAEL AFTON

Micheal is without a doubt both demi-romantic and demi-sexual. If he develops a crush for you, the odds are you've been his best friend, or someone he has known for a long time. He wouldn't develop feelings for someone he doesn't know on an emotional level.

He doesn't do well with a crush. He's horrible at knowing his own emotions, so it takes him ages to even realize that he might have romantic attraction towards you. When he does, he just feels panicked. What was he supposed to do now?

He doesn't try ignoring you. He's read about people doing that, and from what he can see, it doesn't really work. Besides, he doesn't think his sanity could handle that. He has some serious abandonment issues and he prefers not going long without seeing you.

He does try to give you "subtle" hints that he wants to enter a relationship with you. I say subtle, but he is the exact opposite of subtle. You'd have to be the most oblivious person the world has ever seen to not notice how he feels.

He doesn't want to be away from you, but when he's aware he's crushing on you, he doesn't know how to handle being around you, either. What can he do without seeming creepy? Does this change what he can and can't do as a friend? It doesn't help that his face gets hot whenever you so much as look in his direction.

If someone mistakes the both of you as a couple, Micheal will be a mess. His entire face will be red and he'll be frozen. All he can think about is being in a relationship with you, able to say you're his, that he's yours. He feels like his heart will burst.

Micheal won't ever confess how he feels. He is terrified of rejection, terrified that you'll say no and hate him and never talk to him ever again. He can't handle that, so while he isn't subtle about how he feels he is good at not blurting it out randomly.

If there is going to be a "next step" taken between the two of you, it would either have to be you who asks him out, or some kind of third party who'll confess for you both.

#five night's at freddy's #five night's at freddy's x reader #fnaf #fnaf x reader #mike afton #mike afton x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #michael afton #michael afton x reader #micheal afton #micheal afton x reader

[tornrose24]

Some Vanessa reflections from the movie–

-Rewatch some scenes of Five Nights at Freddy's and noticed that audio of kids laughing and screaming are heard when Vanessa looks at the drawings and some point after she reveals the identity of the killer. I think Vanessa might have actually seen the kids getting killed if that's what the audio implied. She's seen her father's work firsthand.

-I also caught that while Mike thinks the vandals were innocent people, she replies that 'They weren't innocent.' I don't know if she knew for sure what the vandals were up to, but she was clearly siding with the fazgang on taking them out.

-Pretty sure the anamatronics were Vanessa's only real friends throughout her life, which is bittersweet and a bit messed up when you think about it (seeing as they are all victims under her father).

-Mike is hoping that Abby and him will see Vanessa when she wakes up from her coma... and I have a feeling that it might not be the way he'd hoped, given how the other games have played out and what roles they could fulfill.

-Stupid side note–in those behind the scenes videos with the youtubers, there was a human robot in parts and services that doesn't fully appear in the film. I know some anamatronics were from the JH studio, but I was convinced Vanessa would be a robot, like Charlie from the SIlver Eyes trilogy. And that would honestly make so much sense if she was meant to replace Elizabeth.

-Of course the above goes against the hospital scene.

-I admit, when Afton stabbed Vanessa, I saw where he stabbed her. A part of me couldn't help but think "Well, I think you just reduced your chances of being 'Grandpa Afton'" later on, though I doubt Vanessa wants to be a mom to begin with. (Same with Mike–he's already busy raising his sister and I highly doubt he would want to be a dad).

-I'm curious to know if Vanessa is meant to be Elizabeth's twin sister, assuming that the other Afton children are canon to the films.

-Furthermore, I'm curious to know who the heck was crazy enough to marry William Afton or at least have a kid with him.

#five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's 2023 #vanessa afton #fnaf movie spoilers

[angelofrainfrogs]

Going Back: Ch. 21

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Things are looking up for Gregory. After putting the soul of a formerly-immortal killer to rest, he and his new family can finally begin their lives anew. Sure, Gregory might have been cursed with mysterious Remnant in exchange for being involved in this mess—not to mention his caretakers consist of sentient robots and ghosts… But there’s no doubt that the bond they share is unbreakable. They love him, and he in turn. 

All in all, life is finally starting to go right for once. 

…Unfortunately, true peace is a hard-won battle. There are other things to contend with besides William’s decrepit soul, and Gregory will learn that his role in the lives of the Aftons and Emilys is far greater than anyone could’ve imagined. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

After an uneventful walk back to the office, Michael found it somewhat alarming to find Charlie and Freddy inside waiting for him. Alone and without Gregory, Charlie was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed a worried expression on her face as she listened to their resident Papa Bear. Her pinpoint focus was distracted only when Michael’s familiar shape fell over the doorway.

“Speak of the devil,” Charlie remarked, interrupting Freddy’s quiet train of thought.

“Hey,” Michael greeted with a wave and a curious tilt of his head. “You gossiping about me behind my back? My office isn't exactly the best place to do that, y'know."

“Hello, Michael,” Freddy responded with a chuckle, expression softening at the appearance of the trustworthy night guard. “We were not talking about you specifically, although you are a relevant part of the conversation. We were discussing Gregory's future.”

“...Ah.” With a low exhale, Michael plopped into one of the swivel chairs. Just one thing after another tonight. At least this was far less stressful than trying to wrangle Ennard through the Pizzaplex.

Hopefully.

“Well, the kid's got a long future ahead of him,” Michael remarked, crossing one knee over the other. “Anything in particular you're fretting over right now?”

“For one,” Charlie said, her voice gentle as she didn't want to particularly stress out her family. Well—not overstress them. “His sleep schedule. The kid's eyebags have bags at this point... It’s just one more thing that could attract unnecessary attention.”

Numbering the items off on her fingers, she moved onto the next from her mental list. “His eyes glow now. You can kind of see it in the light, too, so… We should be prepared if more things change about him.” She grimaced. “Not just physical stuff, either.”

It was something she’d feared since the incident in the bathroom: if Gregory's mental state may begin to deteriorate just as William's had. She'd like to pretend that Gregory was strong—that he could fight and suppress any unhinged thoughts or urges. Michael had seemed to be alright in the end, if a bit more melancholy than she remembered... but those subjected to Remnant were so few and far between, they only had case studies to work from rather than standard bullet points of what to expect. It scared Charlie not knowing exactly what this Remnant serum was going to do to their little brother in the long run.

“...You guys noticed the eyes, too?” Michael asked.

“Yes.” Freddy nodded, unease returning to his features. “At first I thought it was just a trick of the light, but there is definitely something otherworldly about them. It does not bother us, of course, though it is certainly something to be wary of if we wish to reintegrate him into society someday.”

“Freddy... I think that kid is as far from 'reintegration' as one could get at this point,” Michael pointed out, and the ursine man had to concede with a sigh.

“I am aware. However, we can at least try and give his life some semblance of normalcy—as Charlie pointed out, his sleep schedule is a good place to start.” Freddy idly glanced at the cameras, catching sight of the Glamrocks yet again huddled together making plans. A faint smile ghosted over his lips. “On a side note, as much as I would love to provide him with a standard education, I simply do not think that will be in anyone's best interest. I have heard mention of 'online schooling', which I will look into. Tangentially, as far as his sleep schedule goes... until we figure out a few other aspects of all our lives, I believe he may be better suited to fully commit to a night-shift schedule.”

“Yeah?” Michael perked up at this. He'd been gearing up to accept only seeing his brother in passing, but if Freddy deemed the nightlife was Gregory's future, that would be fantastic.

“There is really no reason for him to be awake during the day—Charlie and I will soon be working come next week, so he will either be only with you or alone,” Freddy explained. “It is not safe for the children to roam during the dayshift, and since everyone except Sam and Gregory himself are robots or ghosts, we do not have to worry about sleeping nearly as much as he does. Therefore, I feel it would be more beneficial to his well-being to come here at night like we have been—at least for now.”

Charlie had agreed somewhat, though she was biting her lip in anxiety. She was clearly off-put by something but refrained from speaking of it until now so Freddy could get his thoughts out first.

“About the online school thing,” Charlie said, clearing her voice as she looked between the boys. “So, this is going to sound hypocritical and weird. Trust me, I know, but... We should try to encourage Gregory to make friends like him, and that might be a good way to do that."

He was already shaping up into an oddity, but what Charlie saw earlier that day had legitimately brewed worry in her, causing her to strike up this conversation with Freddy in the first place.

“I noticed he plays very roughly when he's with the twins. Cassidy, too. They can't feel pain so I’m not worried about their safety or anything, but... I just don't want Gregory getting the impression that hurting people is some kind of game. I don't know; maybe we can talk to him about being a little gentler?”

…What an awful time to be accidentally eavesdropping.

Gregory stood like a stone, back pressed firmly against the wall near the office door. He strained to hear everything they were saying with their hushed voices, and managed well. He almost wished he wasn't really hearing it though; it felt like he should just walk back to his friends and continue their hang-out session. But the way Charlie spoke about how he played made him feel like some sort of monster...

“...Ah. Right.” Freddy's face twisted in worry. “I am sorry, I got so caught up in the idea of trying to make things easy for him... but you are right. He must understand that he cannot interact with other children the way he does with those living in the Pizzaplex.”

He paused, chewing his lip in thought. “Perhaps we can shift his schedule so he does get a bit of interaction time with normal children, through whatever means we can. I will speak to him about roughhousing with the others.”

“I can try and talk to the kids, too,” Michael added, trying to help. “Or at least ask Henry to talk to them—not sure how well they'll listen to me.”

He gave a half-hearted laugh, though it only garnered a small smile from Freddy. Putting his feet flat on the ground, Michael leaned forward and grasped his hand. “Hey. It's gonna be okay, Freddy. We might not know exactly what that stuff's going to do to him down the line, but we can handle it. Alright?”

“I know,” Freddy nodded, squeezing the reassuring grip. “Of course I know we can. I just do not want Gregory to feel as though he is... not normal—not more than he already does.”

That cemented it. If he wasn’t a freak, they wouldn’t even having this conversation. Gregory needed to chill out. With no one to calm him down and run their fingers through his hair, it left only himself to do the job and attempt to self-soothe. Though it really didn’t feel right; maybe he was becoming too dependent?

They loved him now, he didn’t doubt that. But based on past experience, “love” generally came at a price. What would happen if his condition got worse? If it morphed into something they couldn’t deal with?

Inside the room, Charlie agreed with Freddy. “Yeah! Baby steps, you know? One day, Gregory’s going to want to be more independent. It’s our job to make sure he’ll be fine on his own when that time comes. But for now, we’re going to show him how much he means to us and be there as a family.”

It won’t be a long time from now, Charlie could see it. In four years, he’ll be able to drive. In six, he’ll legally be an adult. Soon enough, Gregory might not even need them anymore.

Charlie tried not to think this way. If they treated him well and raised him right, Gregory would always be their friend.

“Of course,” Freddy agreed immediately, frowning as an unfamiliar emotion burrowed itself in the base of his heart.

Charlie was right—Gregory was a child, and that meant that he was going to grow up someday. That had been their goal last weekend, after all—to keep him alive so he could have that opportunity. It was what they all wanted, and even though Gregory might not be “normal” anymore, he was still just a growing boy deep down. It was clear he cared for his surrogate family, of that Freddy had no doubt, and he loved the boy more than life itself.

So why did he feel a dull pang of hurt in his chest when he thought about the future?

It wasn't that far off—according to his records, children technically reached “adulthood” when they turned eighteen. That didn't necessarily mean they were all ready to set out in the world on their birthday, but it did for some. And Gregory was already such a resourceful, smart boy...

Freddy had literally given up his old life and body to take care of his son. Would there ever come a day when Gregory didn't... need him anymore?

“Fredbear? You okay?” Michael asked, watching the man have what appeared to be a major internal crises. Freddy had been staring at the ground for quite some time, looking utterly distraught. When Michael spoke he glanced up with a gasp, though he quickly composed himself.

“Yes, I am fine; my apologies,” the ursine man reassured.

No more thinking like that—we have many happy years together ahead of us.

Suddenly, a sound attracted Freddy's attention: the unmistakable squeak of sneaker against linoleum floor. His eyes flicked towards the open doorway, through which a tiny shadow could be seen ducking out of sight. “...Superstar? Are you out there?”

Wipe that sad look off your face now, Gregory thought to himself, pretending someone else was shouting at him to push down those emotions. You weren't about to see your dad and sister cry because of you. You were just walking over to ask for a few bucks for chips.

Gregory sure could play the part when he wanted to, poking his head around the corner and forcing an easygoing smile; he would pretend that he wasn't walking in on the most emotionally turbulent conversation he'd witnessed from his family.

“Heeey, can I get a few bucks for the vending machines? No one else had money on them.” Them meaning the dead friends his family seemed to suddenly have an issue with. “Surprisingly. Hahaha...” Gregory laughed at his own joke, throwing away the key to his feelings on this one.

The trio simply stared at Gregory for a moment, all of them looking very guilty. How much of that had he heard?

Soon, their gazes turned to each other. United in the face of not upsetting Gregory further, they telepathically agreed that Freddy would be the best one to handle this.

“I can get you a snack, Gregory,” he said in his gentle tone, pulling out a few bills from a back pocket that Sam had lent him earlier for this exact situation. Freddy didn't hand the money over though, instead holding it close to his chest with a questioning tilt of his head. “Do you mind if I come with you? I feel as though I have not seen you in a while, since you have been having so much fun with your friends!”

He gave a soft laugh, hoping the boy would agree to spend some much-appreciated alone time with his dad.

Gregory did tell the ghosts he'd be gone for a minute to catch up with Freddy and whoever else the bear may have been hanging out with. They shouldn't be expecting him back soon, but the kid couldn't help but think this might be a ploy for some lecture.

Gregory then thought that maybe he should trust his dad more, considering all they’d gone through together. Yet how could he when the things he was hearing behind closed doors was suspect?

The boy gave Freddy a pinched smile.

“'Course you can, Dad,” he said, attempting to be playful. Gregory hadn't heard a thing. “I was feeling one of those ready-to-eat taquitos by El Chip's?”

“Whatever you would like,” Freddy said amiably, pressing a gentle hand on Gregory's back to urge the boy forward. He sent a quick wave over his shoulder to Mike and Charlie, who gave him an encouraging thumbs-up when Gregory turned away.

The pair walked in silence for a short while. For once, the quiet was strained. They both knew that the other knew something was going on. Of course, it was Freddy who broke the peace, glancing down at his son while they strolled idly towards the main atrium.

“Gregory... I do not know how long you were standing out there, but I can guarantee you heard something of our discussion,” he remarked slowly, not wanting to push too much, too fast. Gregory had a tendency to shut down or turn his feelings inwards when pressured—it was something they were working on together, even if neither of them said it outright. Instead of being angry or upset at him for listening in, Freddy's gaze held only inquisitive concern. “May I ask what you were privy to?”

I'm a weirdo with no friends. I'm going to grow up and be a monster, and there's nothing anyone can do to help me. I'll be like my shitty foster dad. Or like William... Or WORSE.

Gregory appeared to gather his thoughts, when it was really just him trying his best not to shout the intrusive ones aloud. He didn't want to freak out his bear-dad. Gregory didn't even know if he had something to really worry about to begin with. When it came to his health, everything they mentioned seemed like a concern.

“I'm... different. Too different to have living people around,” Gregory said, not sugar-coating what he overheard. Gregory's arms came up to hug himself as he repeated what he interpreted from the chat he'd barged in on. He spoke with a powerful melancholy in his voice, like he already accepted that one day, he might wake up different or straight up dead altogether. “I might not live long as a real person, 'cause of that dumb purple stuff I was shot with...”

Freddy pursed his lips. He hated hearing Gregory talk like this—plus, some of his interpretations were just wrong.

“...Follow me,” Freddy said, leading the boy into an alcove nearby. Perching on a bench, he patted the open spot next to him. “Sit with me for a moment, superstar.”

As Gregory did as instructed, Freddy thought over how best to explain this. The last thing he wanted was for Gregory to feel unimportant or that he was a burden.

“First and foremost, please know that we were only talking about what is best for you,” Freddy reassured, grasping one of Gregory's hands in his own. “And I also want to assure you that I will never make major life decisions for you without consulting you first. Your siblings and I were simply discussing 'what ifs.' And speaking of—” His face melted into a kind smile. “—you are not too different to have living people around. That is not what we were saying. Yes, the Remnant altered your body in ways we do not fully understand yet—but that does not mean you are unable to be around others. It simply might be a bit of an adjustment interacting with 'typical' children due to your strength. That is all.”

Gregory was a little confused, so sure they’d been speaking as if he was too strange to be kept around less “specialized” kids. Not only was that the opposite of the truth, but they weren't planning on separating him from his old friends either. In that moment, it really hit Gregory just how much he may be overthinking things because of his former living arrangement...

“I... I think I get it now.” Gregory nodded his understanding to Freddy, his trembling hand clutched tight around his dad’s. Tears threatened to break as his lip wobbled while trying to work his way through his next question. “You promise you guys don't think I'm weird or that I'm going to turn into a monster?”

Freddy's face ran through a range of emotions in quick succession: confusion, understanding, regret, compassion.

“Oh my goodness... Gregory, you are not a monster,” he reassured, reaching over to scoop the boy into his lap and wrap him in an all-encompassing bear hug. “We love you so much and we would do anything to make sure you are safe and happy. No one thinks you are 'weird' or 'evil' or whatever other negative word you might come up with to describe yourself. And also—” He tightened his hold, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Gregory's head. “—you are going to live a long and prosperous life. If anything, you will live longer than expected due to the Remnant—so please do not speak of... of dying anytime soon.”

It was hard for Freddy to say the word aloud, as if that would somehow manifest the concept into existence.

Gregory relaxed against his dad quietly, time passing where it was merely him just trying to calm his breathing down. Freddy wouldn’t lie to him—in fact, he was almost certain that Freddy was incapable of leading him astray.

“I’ll be fine…,” Gregory said, speaking it out loud. He was fine physically, especially when he had his robotic guardian here to tell him that he was going to be a-okay. Even so Gregory didn’t know how to feel about the future. It was slowly approaching—soon he would be thirteen. While the changes in him had slowed down after the initial night he was injected, who knew what’d happen when teenage hormones were mixed with the chemicals flowing in his veins.

Still, Gregory had to let go of those fears for now if he was ever going to have hope.

“Thanks, Dad,” he murmured into Freddy’s soft sweater. “I feel a lot better…”

“Good; I know it is hard to talk about these things, but I am always here to listen,” Freddy let him know. “And I am sure anyone would lend you an ear, especially Charlie and Michael. They absolutely adore you, you know.”

For another moment they lapsed into silence, simply enjoying the company of family neither thought they’d ever have. Eventually, Gregory’s patience for sitting still was nearing its end, and Freddy smiled when he felt him start to wriggle.

“Alright—let us go on a little adventure,” he announced, shifting Gregory to his feet and grasping one of his hands. He shot the boy a look of playful chiding—

—not anger. Never anger when it came to Gregory’s curiosity.—

—and asked: “Now, were you actually hungry, or was just that an excuse?”

Most kids his age might be embarrassed at their parents trying to hold their hands. Gregory was just elated that he had one who cared enough to keep him at his side. Gregory wouldn’t ever complain about it; it showed him that Freddy cared.

“Oh yeah, I came up to ask for money for real,” Gregory insisted with an excitable nod. He was starving. “I have to get back to my friends right after. We’re playing Manhunt and they think I suck right now.”

Freddy chuckled, glad that Gregory was having fun with the others. Though it’d be good for him to make human friends as Charlie suggested, at least he’d always have the ghosts of the Pizzaplex to spend time with no matter what. As they climbed one of the powered-down escalators to reach El Chips, a flash of turquoise whipped out in front of them.

“Oh! Hello, Foxy!” Freddy called brightly. The animatronic had slipped out of Bonnie Bowl and was walking in their general direction. With a smile, Freddy waved him over. “I am sure you are busy getting the run of the place, but would you like a small break? I was just taking Gregory to get a snack—care to join us?”

Freddy knew the real reason the fox was rushing about, but he figured the party planning would be okay without him for a few minutes. Plus, Freddy had barely gotten to spend any time with his new-old friend without the Glamrocks, and was curious to know how he was coping with everything—especially with Michael’s influence ruminating in the back of his mind.

Foxy jumped, as if he was scampering about doing things he wasn’t supposed to. Which, technically, was true. Sun wasn't aware that Foxy plundered a lot of his candy or his Fizzy Faz supply. Though Foxy was sure that if he knew it was going as a contribution to Gregory’s party, Sun wouldn’t mind at all! Hiding the fat stack of soda and candy inside his chest compartment before turning on his peg, Foxy opened his arms wide with excitement.

“Absolutely! You’re both heading to Chip’s?” he asked, curious and trying to distract from the fact he was hiding something. If Foxy could get them to avoid walking through Music Man’s dance floor, the better. They didn’t need Gregory asking questions they simply couldn’t answer…

“We are,” Freddy replied with a nod. “Speaking of—here, superstar.” He pulled out a few bucks from his pocket and handed them over before sidling up to Foxy. He patted the pirate’s arm in a friendly gesture, grinning up at the animatronic brightly. “How are you adjusting to life at the Pizzaplex? I hope the others are not giving you too much trouble…”

Gregory was excited to see the familiar fox. While he knew that Michael no longer resided inside of the animatronic, Foxy had already proved himself to be a loyal friend. As the kid gave his leg a quick hug, Foxy carefully patted Gregory’s back while speaking to Freddy.

“Adjusting for certain! Been havin’ a few night terrors... Though Bonnie’s apparently been havin’ them, too,” Foxy replied with a casual and wholly unstressed shrug. “I think it’s my nerves! Having to perform on Monday and all—it’s going to be my first big gig!”

“Ah… I am sorry to hear that,” Freddy said empathetically. He felt a weird sense of guilt about the whole possession thing, especially the after-effects. Though he knew it wasn’t his fault in the slightest, Freddy’s intense involvement in the situation gave him an extra sense of responsibility towards those friends that were so greatly affected.

“Well, I am always here to talk if you need—but like you said, I am sure it is nerves,” the ursine man added calmly. Someday they’d tell Foxy what happened, but for now he could focus on his impending debut. Freddy patted the back of the pirate’s hook with a hearty laugh. “I know you will do fantastic, though!”

Talking about the band’s impending performance made him realize there was another factor he’d been meaning to discuss with Sam: what in the world were they going to do with his old model? They couldn’t just take Freddy Fazbear out of the line-up…

“It's fine—nothing more than my CPU keeping things interesting while I'm charging,” Foxy chalked it all up to be. Even if the deceptively smart robot had an inclination that the dreams really weren't normal, he was being coy about it.

Foxy walked beside his old friend, traveling with him as Gregory chose to run up ahead in search of his highly sought-after taquitos. He and Freddy moved at a leisurely pace, watching Gregory scamper in the distance.

“By the by, Fredbear...,” Foxy muttered quietly, lifting up his eyepatch to wink an unlit eye. “Make sure Gregory avoids the Dancefloor and DJ's place while we're setting up. We wouldn't want to ruin the surprise.”

“I can’t wait to hear you play drums!” Gregory remarked, Foxy’s attention snapping to the child mirthfully. He didn’t realize how quick it took Gregory to get back with his snacks, already pocketing Freddy’s change for himself and unwrapping the hot and ready taquito.

“I am excited as well!” Freddy said, his little smile signaling he understood the pirate's warning perfectly. “We have not had a drummer in the Glamrock Band yet, so I am very curious as to how things will work out!”

Yes, technically “working things out” on stage would soon be Freddy's job. But according to his employee log he'd only been hired a few days ago, so he was slotted to be trained for a little bit before he was given full creative control—despite the fact that Sam knew the former lead singer of the band could put on a better show than all the previous stage managers combined.

Sam had sort of found the dream team he always needed for the new admins of the Pizzaplex. With Michael and Charlie there to help, along with Freddy still leading his band from behind the thick velvet curtains, he'd have a lot less to worry about. After all that seemingly went wrong in one weekend, he couldn't risk another major loss.

“We'll have tomorrow morning to practice and figure it out! To be honest, Bonnie's had his head wrapped up in recent activities,” Foxy said with a flick of his wrist. “So we haven't been able to practice much! Aside from that, we're still technically missing our front-man.”

All this didn't help Foxy's nervousness, but he was programmed to be the best drummer ever conceived for the Pizzaplex.

“Roxy let me play her keytar! The ol' wolf got jealous over how much better I am than her at it. Now I'm not even allowed to look at it,” he half-joked, and Gregory could've sworn he'd heard this same story before though with the name changed from Roxy to Lizzie. Gregory found himself laughing at Foxy like he would at his brother for antagonizing their siblings.

“Sounds like you deserve it!” Gregory pointed out, munching on his taquito.

“—Yeah, you've got a point,” Foxy conceded, following the family on their lazy hike through his new home.

Freddy chuckled at the anecdote, happy that Foxy seemed to be doing just fine with his new companions. Michael's influence was strong in his personality, and Freddy idly wondered if Foxy would be able to sense the connection before it was blatantly pointed out.

“Ah, speaking of your missing front-man—” Freddy began, his brow creasing ever so slightly. “—I should speak to Sam about what exactly we are going to do come Monday. I do not know if he will have another animatronic up and running by then...”

It was weird to call the lead singer “Freddy,” and the ursine man knew it'd be even weirder when the bear was functional again. Looking to Gregory, Freddy inquired: “Do you want to come with me, superstar? I have a feeling Sammy may enlist your help when it comes time for it—this will be a slightly different process than re-activating the rest of the Glamrocks.”

Gregory had balled up the paper wrapper that the taquito came in, aiming for a nearby trash can as they passed. “Sure; if Sam needs my help, I'm there.”

“I'll tag along, too; that way I can report to the others later,” Foxy said, using his claw to brush through the long mane of hair on his head. Freddy was always the leader—even if this iteration of Foxy was new, he knew this intrinsically. It brought him to a state of unease not knowing what they’d do if they didn't have someone up there singing. Certainly they wouldn't let such a thing happen on opening day—that would just be irresponsible on Sammy's part.

“Of course—the more the merrier!” Freddy replied cheerfully. Now satisfied they had a direction, he led the charge to Sam's office. The door was closed as usual, which either meant Sam was working on something inside or he was out.

“Sam?” Freddy asked, knocking a few times. “Do you have a moment? I would like to ask you about something work-related!”

“Door’s open,” Sam called. This time he sounded wide awake, wired even. As the small group peaked in, Sam was clearly in the middle of something, though he wasn't so engulfed that he was unable to greet them with more than a passing question tossed over his shoulder. “Everything alright, Freddy?”

Sam was bent over the small work desk stowed into the corner of the larger office space, tinkering on the inside of a virtual reality headset. It looked as if he’d gutted the thing and moved on to reintegrating it's components with new parts.

“Yes, everything is fine.” Freddy led the others inside, making sure the door was closed behind the trio. He eyed Sammy's back curiously, wondering what in the world he was thinking up now. “Since the re-debut is fast-approaching, we wanted to ask you about your plans for my old body? I am assuming he will be up and running at some point, though I know it will be a different effort to get him to that level since I am no longer available...” He paused, tilting his head. “...What are you working on, if I may ask?”

Sam let out a small sigh. He was once again reminded of their deadline, and the clock was unforgiving.

“Remember when I said I was going to get some sleep?” Sam answered them with a question, finally turning around to scan the group.

“Yes?” Foxy answered, vaguely remembering Sam having to retire to his office to get some shut-eye. His sleep schedule was just as messed up as poor Gregory's at this point.

“—Right, well, I didn't.” Sam shrugged, heaving the half-conceived invention in his hands. “This is a Virtual Reality headset; it’s from an old venture that never panned out. I thought that maybe by taking some of its adapter capabilities and retro fitting it into Freddy—not you Freddy, but old Freddy; your old body—maybe you could control the empty animatronic!”

He spoke in an excited manner, which melted back into frustration with how long it'd taken him to even get this far. He sacrificed a lot of time on it—too much, really.

Sam carefully put the headset down on the workbench, eyeing it with a frustrated huff. “It's taking longer than I expected, though. The goal was to let you control your old body from offstage... If I can't get it working decently by tomorrow afternoon, I'll have to resort to plan B.”

Gregory raised his eyebrows, worried as Sam seemed to sway a little on his feet. He knew the feeling of nearly falling asleep while standing up all too well. Gregory helped steady his friend, and Sam looked surprised for a split-second before Gregory asked him: “What's plan B?”

Sam gritted his teeth and looked away, maybe a little worried about bringing it up. “Well! Uh... It would be re-downloading Freddy's old, basic programming back into the model. The issue with that would be obvious: two Freddies.”

“Samuel... you are a genius,” the redhead breathed, looking over the headset with wide-eyed fascination. If he could still control his old body and perform on stage that would be amazing.

His bright grin fell ever-so-slightly when Sam mentioned he was nowhere near done though. The man was right—it was a great concept, but they needed to have something Freddy-related working by Monday or there might be a riot from the patrons.

Helping Gregory steady his hard-working creator, Freddy listened to the alternative. There was a pause in which everyone looked at the ursine man, clearly expecting him to speak on the matter first. It would be his body double wandering around, after all.

“It... would be a strange circumstance, that is for certain,” Freddy said after a moment, his words slow as he processed his thoughts aloud. “But... our AI is made to learn and adapt to the world around us. Each day we are powered on, the more distinct our personalities become.” He gave the room a soft smile, pressing a hand lightly over his heart. “I think I can safely attest that due to my extraordinary experiences, I am nothing like the bear I was when first given life.”

Would it be bizarre to interact with what was essentially a past version of himself? Absolutely—but Freddy thought he could get over it. However, he wasn't the only one that would be weirded out by the situation. Sparing a glance down at Gregory, he asked: “Would you be alright with another Freddy wandering around, superstar? Our base temperaments are the same, though he may be rather, ah... stilted in the ways of dealing with people until he gets some practice in. It may be a bit jarring to interact with him.”

Gregory didn't really know if he could answer that. With everyone staring at him and waiting for an answer, he turned inwards to think. How would that make him feel? Two people who were essentially the same, only one doesn't know who he is at all. The other is the same guy, but also Gregory’s dad?

“Uhhh...” Gregory gave up a shrug. It would be cheesy for him to say it in front of everyone, but to him there would only ever be one real Freddy Fazbear. “Whatever you have to do, I guess! I’m cool with it.”

Foxy crossed his arms and shook his head. “No way! There can't be two Freddy's running about doling out orders!”

Besides, there’d be less opportunity to sneak around. Word has it that Fredbear used to be a real stickler for the rules.

Sam would give Foxy a playful role of his eyes. “Yeah, but then there's another bear for your pirate crew.”

Foxy considered this, scratching his chin in thought. “Aye, maybe then... Maybe...”

Freddy's lips had pursed at Foxy's mini-rant, somehow knowing the underlying meaning was that he wouldn't be able to cause as much trouble. It's not like Freddy wasn't any fun, though—he just wanted to make sure everyone was safe while doing so. It wasn't his fault Sam had given him the strictest child-safety protocols besides the Daycare attendant...

When Gregory and Foxy had given their agreement, Freddy looked back to Sam with a nod. “Then that seems to be the solution we must go with—for now, at least.”

They could always try the VR thing once it was up and running, although who knew how long that would take Sam to finish up once the Pizzaplex was actually open for business. Sparing a glance at his phone, Freddy's eyes widened at the time.

“If we do this, Sammy, when were you planning to port over my old programming?” the redhead asked. “If possible, I would like to be there to assist.”

And to assure everything is alright, he left unspoken. If there was going to be another Freddy walking around, the original wanted to make sure it was up to his standards.

“At the latest, noon on Monday. That's about as long as I can keep any kids from seeing you—er, him,” Sam replied, glad to see Freddy and Gregory were mostly unfazed by such a drastic change. He was also curious to see how the two bears would end up getting along. “From there, we can see what needs to be worked on; make sure that there's nothing screwy going on with his motor functions or programming.”

After all, it would be a real problem if even a smidgeon of William’s twisted soul was still hiding somewhere in a character profile... Sam and Gregory did a deep, comprehensive wide-scale purge of the Pizzaplex's entire data system, and while the chances of the old fuck hiding in there were very slim it didn't hurt to be careful.

“Hmm... alright,” Freddy mused, thinking of the timing of everything. “Perhaps we can port him over tomorrow night? That way you will not have to worry about such a big task during opening hours, even if the guest count is low. We may be able to get some of the other children to help test his interactions as well before letting him out on the floor come Monday morning!”

Some of the mild-tempered children, at least, like Evan and Hannah. Maybe Lizzie, if she begged to come along. Besides, Freddy would prefer he and Gregory have a little time to get used to his old-new counterpart before getting swept up in the hustle of entertaining kids and their demanding parents.

Seeing this place bustling again was what Sam wanted more than anything in the whole world. Foxy did in a way too, nervous the more that their afternoon shows went unpracticed for.

“The sooner he's awake the better,” the fox remarked, seeming just a little worried as he gently tussled the hair at the back of his head.

Without Freddy here all the time, the group barely wanted to get together and practice. While it was fun to slack off, playing video games and planning for parties, Foxy was aware that if they didn't run through the set list at least once before the real show they might eat it out there. Even if they were programmed to play perfectly, he’d yet to get a chance jamming with the band.

“You guys are gonna do great on your gig,” Gregory assured, reaching up to hold Foxy’s hand without a hint of the shyness he’d shown Monty and Bonnie.

“I sure hope you're right, bucko.” Foxy gave Gregory's hand a firm squeeze of appreciation, trying not to infect the others with his issues.

“Foxy—” Freddy began, one eyebrow quirked up to go along with the smile on his face. He'd had a similar thought to the pirate regarding the band's practice time, although he was a bit more confident they would do just fine. All the same, it certainly wouldn't hurt to have a test run. “—you do realize that I can still perform as I am now, right? It will not be quite the same as having my old body on stage with you, but my voice is still intact—and I guarantee I have not forgotten any of the dance moves.”

They still had some time tonight; maybe he could corral his bandmates and run through a song or two, for old times' sake. It would almost be like a send-off, in a way—not that Freddy couldn't ever perform with them again, but someday they'd be programmed with new routines that he wasn't privy to unless he specially requested Sam upload them into his android brain as well.

Yes... running around the stage with his old friends was just what Freddy needed to work off the lingering melancholy from earlier.

“FREDDY! That's why you're the leader—why didn't I think of just asking you?” Foxy laughed to himself, slapping a hand over his eye as the patch flipped up of its own accord. Holding his arm out for Freddy to latch onto, he offered to lead him to the others. It was about time they all hung out together without the kids around, anyway!

“Hey—I gotta go back to playing Manhunt anyway,” Gregory announced, knowing Freddy liked to be aware of where he went. Hopefully his dad would be cool with him dipping out for a few hours to finish the game he’d started with the ghosts. “See you guys back at the stage in the morning?”

“Of course, superstar,” Freddy replied, crouching down and pull his son into a hug. He let the embrace linger a bit longer than usual, silently reminding Gregory that he loved him unconditionally no matter what happened in their futures. When he pulled back it was with a wink and a grin. “Feel free to bring your friends by the stage tonight if you would like to watch part of the performance.”

With this out of the way, Freddy slipped his arm into Foxy's. “Alright, let us go round up the others. Goodness knows where they have all wandered off to... But first—” Before he started for the door, he was sure to grab onto Sammy's hand, sounding not unlike Mike when Sam refused to settle down despite how absolutely exhausted he was. “—we are taking a detour to the Daycare so you can get another rest in. And no, that is not a suggestion. Let us go.”

“Ooooh, you're in trouble, Sam!” Gregory teased, goading them on as they parted ways and Sam was forced to keep up with his creation’s pace. 

“Yeah, yeah—have fun, Gregory!” Sam bid, waving a hand dismissively and ultimately deciding to listen to Freddy. He was certain that no one looking at him assumed he had his eyes open; they were squinted so bad behind his glasses that anyone would have reasonable suspicion to ask whether or not he was sleepwalking.

By the time they got the Daycare, poor Sam was practically being held up by Freddy, most of his weight slumped into the former bear's side. It seemed like all his exhaustion had hit him at once on the way over, and Freddy was happy he'd forced the CEO to take a break. After dropping him off with a quick check-in with Mari and Ennard—who were practicing “human conversation” over a plastic tea party, Freddy figured the best place to start looking for the rest of the crew would be Rockstar Row.

“So, Foxy—” Now that Gregory was no longer around, Freddy was free to ask: “—how is the party planning, by the way? I regret that I cannot take a more active role, but I need to be available in case Gregory needs me to keep up appearances.”

Foxy knocked a hand against his chest plate, watching it open and revealing the large cache of snacks and beverages he'd been smuggling throughout the Pizzaplex for Gregory's party.

“We've nearly got all the supplies ready! But no sweat, Fazbear—” Foxy replied, closing himself back up to clap his friend's shoulder in a supportive manner. “That's the reason why we're doing it! Bonnie said you, Mikey, and Charlie are all busy with everything, and we happen to have the time! We are professional party animals, remember?”

It only came natural to want to throw a huge shindig the moment that they heard a child's birthday was taking place, especially one so important. Foxy peeked inside Roxy’s room to see her doing nothing that he considered particularly important. Roxy was putting her hair into curlers for the night, carefully and strategically rolling the very last plastic tube into place before taking her silk cap and stretching it over her scalp (she didn't need to do any of this, of course, but it made her happy). Foxy looked bored just by watching it, so he quickly hoofed it over to her door and kicked it in, making the wolf jump and shout at the intrusion. Apparently this wasn't the first time Foxy had done this; Roxy even looked to be half expecting it.

“Foxy, get OUT OF MY ROOM!” she shouted, standing up and wholly embarrassed as they saw her nightly beauty routine.

“Band practice is in fifteen minutes!” Foxy shouted back, ignoring the wolf coming at him threateningly with a curling iron. Roxy gasped, yellow eyes flicking to Freddy and widening at his nod of confirmation.

“I'll be ready in ten!” she yelled, pointing the iron at Foxy's nonplussed head. “Now leave so I can get ready!” She may have sounded mad, but Roxy was fighting down the urge to smile very badly.

Having lived with the Glamrocks for his entire existence until a week ago Freddy had seen it all before, though some of their little quirks never failed to amuse him. While Roxy pointlessly curled her always-perfect hair, Monty was busy sitting on the couch in his room practicing his solos. This wasn’t necessary either, as he was literally programmed to play perfectly every time unless there was a major malfunction. Still, it made the gator feel better about usurping Bonnie as the bassist if he at least pretended to try and improve.

“Huh?” The sick guitar licks came to a sudden halt at the knock on the gator’s door. “Door’s open—come on in! Fredbear!” After placing the bass reverently in its stand, Monty stomped forward to give the ursine man a big hug.

“Hi, Monty!” Freddy laughed, doing his best to pat the gator’s arms until he was released. “We are getting the band together in fifteen minutes for a practice session at the main stage.”

“Oh! Well I shouldn’t’ve put my bass down then,” Monty remarked with a raucous chuckle. He snatched up the instrument and hooked it over his shoulder before following Freddy into the hallway.

Catching sight of Chica through her half-open window, Monty knocked a claw against the glass to get her attention. When she turned to him with a curious squawk, he pointed to his guitar and mimed playing it, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the vague direction of the stage. Freddy watched the pantomiming with amusement, wondering if Chica would have any idea what Monty was trying to tell her.

Chica herself had been doing jumping jacks. Exercising was… pointless. At least to her it was. No matter how much Chica ate, or how inactive she was, she would stay the same unless she was majorly junked up by some bad pizza. Still, Chica had to set a good example. Former versions of herself framed childhood binge eating as something to aspire to—and in turn, Glamrock Chica was given an interest in healthy habits despite her continued love for pizza.

Pulled away from her cardio, her eyes widened at what she was pretty sure Monty was asking of her. Ceasing her activities, she ran to grab her guitar. She’s been itching to jam with the band for a hot second. She held up her axe to make sure that was what Monty was actually asking for. Upon receiving an enthusiastic thumbs up, Chica’s smile brightened. With her guitar strap securely around her shoulders, she was the first to bolt out of the hallway, heading off to go tell Bonnie that they were putting on a show.

“Alright everyone!” Freddy said once they'd all gathered together, projecting his voice to be heard in the echoing atrium as he hopped on stage. The rest of the band lulled around in front where the crowd would stand, tuning instruments and chatting until Freddy made his appearance. Naturally, all eyes turned towards their stalwart leader.

“First, before we get to practicing I have an announcement to make,” Freddy said, grasping the wireless mic at the front of the stage and unhooking it from its stand. It felt both familiar and foreign in his hands—he’d been using a variation of this same mic forever, but it’d always been held in paws. Without a dragging cord, Freddy was able to pace the stage freely as he spoke.

“I am sure you all are wondering about the elephant in the room—or should I say bear.” There was a collective groan at the lame dad joke, though Freddy thought he heard a distinctive snicker from Bonnie and Foxy’s direction. “I spoke with Sammy about what we are going to do now that I am in this body. Unfortunately I cannot switch back and forth at will, so my old form will need something to keep it running to entertain the guests and put on shows with you all.

“We toyed with a potential idea where I would still be in control behind the scenes, but it is not quite ready yet. So… We have decided to upload the base coding of my original personality into the animatronic instead.” He paused a moment to let this sink in, awaiting the inevitable flood of questions.

Bonnie was the first one to respond. Perched atop a backless stool that he nearly fell off of with the news, the wide-eyed rabbit gasped at the idea of there being two of his best friends walking around.

“Wowee, Fredbear,” Bonnie exclaimed, all bushy-tailed and chipper. “That'll be neat!”

“I don't know, Bon-Bon,” Chica remarked, idly thumming the frets of her electric guitar. “It's sounds kinda confusing to me. Like… Two? How are we going to know which one's which?”

Roxy gave her friend an incredulous glance, holding in a laugh. “…Are you kidding me? One's going to look like a bear, and the other one is a human man, Chica!”

Freddy gave the group an easy smile, but when he opened his mouth to speak Monty chimed in.

“So... does that mean you're gonna be hangin' with us, or... not you?” The gator scratched his head, clearly in a similar boat to Chica.

“We will both be around,” Freddy tried to explain. “But as Roxy said, I—the Freddy you are familiar with—will retain this body, while the new one uses my old animatronic.”

“Huh...” Monty looked contemplative for a moment, the tip of his tail flicking ever so slightly from side to side. Then he shrugged, tapping an idle claw on the bass around his shoulders. “Alrighty then—as long as y'all don't team up to get on our cases, we'll be good!”

“If you do not cause trouble, we will not have to,” Freddy pointed out with a stern eyebrow raise.

Monty just huffed and looked away with a grumble to the effects of, “...still annoyin' as heck, that's for sure...”

“Aw heck, Montgomery.” Bonnie bumped the big gator's arm with his own, feeling that Freddy's tendencies to overthink and care about the wellbeing of his friends were a blessing in disguise. “Freddy's just a good pal! Making sure none of us get in trouble with the Boss, always keepin' us safe and up to code... In fact, where would we be if not for Freddy and the kids today?”

“Yeah!” Chica agreed, cocking her head to the side as she remembered the times Freddy had personally helped her out. Too many pizzas and the cheese could easily gunk up a girl’s voice box controls... “Like what Gregory says: he's got total 'Dad Energy!’”

Roxy and Foxy were a little smarter than to put in their two cents. Yes, they loved Freddy dearly, but those two always thought they could handle themselves regardless of whether or not Freddy was present. Still, it was obvious to everyone how much they always wanted Fredbear around!  

“Alright, alright!” Monty held up his claws with a laugh. “I'm not sayin' it's a bad thing to have two Fredbears—'course I love him just as much as y'all, even if they're both lecturin' me in stereo!”

“Thank you, everyone,” Freddy chuckled once the commotion had died down. He had one hand pressed over his heart and a big smile on his face. He knew they all cared for him, but it was still nice to hear aloud. “I just wanted to let you know what would be happening so you are not confused when the bear starts wandering around and I am not in it.”

A tiny crease formed in his brow. “We will need to upload a base personality that had not been exposed to guests so it may take a bit of adjustment, which I am hoping Gregory can help with—and you all, of course. I am trusting you to show new Freddy the ropes!”

“Oooh man! Freddy's not going to know what's even going on! It'll be like when we first got activated...” Roxy reminisced, back when things were just a little more simple: few stores and places to eat, with one big stage to perform on. Now things were so hectic. They were local celebrities with a legion of fans now dedicated to them. “Hope we don't overwhelm the guy.”

Foxy gave an exaggerated shrug. “Doubt it; Freddy will know exactly what to do! It'll just take a second for him to get to know you all again. Just like me, remember?”

Only a few days ago did Foxy really “wake up,” yet he felt like he'd been here for a long time already. Accepted so instantaneously by his peers, Foxy was sure that new Freddy would fit in just fine.

Bonnie leaned back, paws behind his head as he thought aloud to himself. “I hope he likes bowlin'...”

“I am sure he will, Bon,” Freddy said with a bright smile. He clapped his hands together, wary of the mic still in his grip that he now spoke into. “Now, onto the real reason I gathered you here—just because my old model is currently deactivated does not mean I cannot practice with you!”

“Aw, heck yeah!” Monty exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air. “I've been itchin' to perform again!” He jumped to his feet, grabbing the closest robot and tugging them forward—which in this case happened to be Roxy. “No time to waste—let's goooo!”

“Bonnie, would you mind activating the sound booth?” Freddy asked as everyone took their places. While the rabbit might not be back in the lineup yet, he could still help them out in so many ways. Freddy looked down at his old friend with a preemptively thankful grin. “Pick whatever showtime set catches your fancy, and we will work from that lineup!”

“It'd be my honor!” Bonnie hopped up quickly from his seat, doing a little half jog to make his way off the stage—but not before smacking Foxy's good arm as he passed. “Break a leg out there, Foxy!”

“Too late, bunny-boy,” Foxy pointed out, sticking out his peg leg as he began to unscrew the hook attachment on his arm. He was quick to replace it with another tool: an attachable drum stick that made it a little bit handier as a drummer. That way he didn't have to sacrifice skill for speed while keeping the beat.

Bonnie threw back his head in laughter as he climbed towards the top of the sound stage, readying the lights and the fog machine to give it the appearance of a real show. Speaking into the microphone, he directed his friends. “Alright y'all—everyone's instruments tuned?”

Chica gave her guitar a quick strum before finding the right power chord for her amp, then sent Bonnie a thumbs up to the sound booth above. There was a test of the mic, and Foxy experimentally smacking the electric drums at the very back of the stage while Roxy warmed up her finger joints over the keys of her synth. Then, the sound of live music finally filled the long empty halls of the Pizzaplex...

It was a wonderful feeling to sing on stage again. Wonderful... and bittersweet. Freddy knew he could always have late-night performances like this with his friends, but it'd never be the same as before.

He wasn't the same as before. And while he'd certainly improved for the better, this truly felt like the final step in accepting that his life as Freddy Fazbear, official mascot of the Mega Pizzaplex, had come to a close.

But hey—he'd gained a family out of this whole adventure. And really, that's all he'd ever wanted.

***

Previous Chapter ~~ Next Chapter

Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!

Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!

#fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf #fnaf au #five nights at freddy's #michael afton #charlie emily #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #angelofrainfrogs #zeitghest #spend the night #going back #the wires that bind us au #gregory #glamrock freddy #glamrock foxy #roxanne wolf #glamrock bonnie #montgomery gator #glamrock chica #sammy emily

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Hey so that reminds me. The first Five Nights at Freddy’s trailer dropped and it looks good and fun and scary and the Jim Henson company can do no wrong as always!!! I can't fucking wait!!!!!

But like– warning for people not familiar with this franchise:

(and I have no idea HOW you could have missed this but I have encountered larger and stranger knowledge gaps in my time on the internet so just. sending this out there):

FNAF is THEEEEEEE jumpscare game.

Like. I’m not a gamer or anything but just from my memory it’s what started the jumpscare horror trend of the mid-2010s. The entire game system for the vast majority of the franchise is BUILT around jumpscares. Jumpscares are what it is known for, if its name could be changed to anything it would be "Jumpscares: The Game" because that's what it is. The first thing anyone learns about this franchise is that there are one shit billion jumpscares in it. The trailer didn't have too many but the movie no doubt WILL have a metric fuckton just because that's how the game operates.

also for those not familiar with this franchise, every game (the first one implicit but it's still present) deals with child death + murder. Teaser already confirmed that will be in the film, leaked trailer confirmed even more of it. Have you seen that viral post going around like "sir this is the child death and murder franchise i know what i signed up for" "what kids are in fnaf??" "are you in the headspace to receive information that could possibly hurt you right now" they are NOT kidding it is a core part of the lore and plot.

tl;dr if you don't know anything about fnaf but wanna see it after the movie trailer looked sick, massive MASSIVE trigger warnings for jumpscares and child murder. It's a core part of the franchise and if you can't deal with one or both of those you should avoid this one come October.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #mine

[restlesscrybaby]

》 JACK HORNER GAMING HEADCANONS. 《

☆ CONTENT WARNING: None. ☆

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

He's not a huge gamer, to be completely honest, and it's not easy to learn.

Let alone hold the controllers.

Well, you seen how gentle he picked up the cookies, with ease and precision, so we do know he can be careful. Of course, when he wishes to be, I mean. We did see him smash a pumpkin with only his force and a magic wand.

But he's got big hands, it's not easy to play these games with those controllers.

Switches are his worst enemy. Especially when playing multiplayer.

He prefers the big controllers, such as for Xbox or Playstation, since it's easier and he thinks it helps him win better.

What games does he play?

I don't know!

Let's be honest, he doesn't care. He would probably prefer fighting games, none with some big sappy story, some heart-gushing tale of life and death, no romance, none of it.

He hates visual novels, let's be honest.

He says that if he wanted to read and have a story, he would just read. Oldbastard.

Super Smash Bros is always a fun game with him.

He mains Bowser, he will get very infuriated if someone else picked Bowser. Sorry Bowser mains.

He doesn't button mash. Well, he tries not too. He tries to use his intelligence and use the moves according to what's going on to win.

And if he doesn't win, he's a sourpuss.

If he wins, he's a smug, rub-it-in-your-face, asshole.

Oh, he definitely rages at games, don't even doubt that. He has broken multiple controllers, throwing them, crushing them beneath his hands, whatever his anger caused that day.

He doesn't even just break controllers during rage from losing or messing up.

He breaks them on accident.

If he isn't too careful, he'll clench it too hard, the remote cracking and crumbling beneath his hands, the sounds of the plastic crumbling within eachother with sad pops and squeaks.

Horror games?

Of course!

He doesn't get scared as easy, he doesn't care for your silly scares.

But it is funny when he does get jumpscared by a game.

He breaks controllers like that too.

Five Nights At Freddy's? Nice! He hates your stupid jumpscares.

He got used to it eventually, only pursing his lips and letting in an agitated inhale, his face boiling with red, his eye twitching.

But, when he first got jumpscared, he flinched and let out a small shriek, his eyes had widened and his lips pursed into a shock. But, it fell quickly.

He would not admit he had gotten frightened by it. Do not test him, he hates it.

Tries to find new games, but he despises it. He could make a better game, duh! None of this boring stuff thst they put out now!

He doesn't play often, but when he does, he's very serious about it.

If he loses and he rages, sometimes he'll stand up and angrily storm out the room while cursing loudly for all to hear.

It's kinda funny.

He does enjoy Sly Cooper, I mean, he gets to steal and thief around, who wouldn't like that game? Don't worry, I like it too, Jack.

( projecting here with the fav game teehee ) He loves 'Alice: Madness Returns'. He doesn't care for the story. He really likes the combat. Unlike me, fool.

He is a bit stubborn about playing with people, but he does it with a smug smile, because he knows he'll win.

He won't play by himself often, but sometimes he might try too. But, only for some time, before it completely bores him out of his mind.

Gaming isn't his full thing.

Oh.

And jokingly, when you told him to play 'Cooking Mama' and said it reminded you of him, he got very sourpuss when playing it. Psh. This game? This silly, bright-coloref, cavity filled game? Ah! Too simple, makes cooking look simple, what fool would ever MAKE this!

However, he held a high head, it reminded you of him. And it makes him smug, that he still stays on your mind without even trying to!

He kinda grew to like it.

Don't pick on him.

He finds the restaurant and cooking portions interesting. But, he finds it humiliating that he plays this bright-colored, cavity-filled, high-pitched mess of what you could call a game.

In all reason, he doesn't prefer VIDEO games.

Gaming isn't all video games, it's of all kinds of games, from video to board, etc.

He likes board games quite a bit.

Monopoly is something he demolishes in.

He is a king of Monopoly.

He smirks when you land on his property and he shrieks to quickly buy a new property so you have to pay it. He's a huge asshole about it.

He wins quite a bit.

I mean, he does know things about this, I suppose we csnt be surprised.

Clue makes him angry.

Thats it.

He doesn't like just that tho.

He also adores gambling.

That counts as gaming.

Even if it's not with actual money, he dominates in that even more. He'll always win by the end, with a smug smile and counting what he had just won.

In the end,

He's always going to be a confident, smug, man about everything.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

WOO HERE YA GO TO MAKE UP!!

#big jack horner #jack horner #puss in boots the last wish #puss in boots #jack horner is so bbg #jack horner x reader #big jack horner x reader

[romanarose]

For the Longest Time: Bonus Chapter (Laci and Santi)

Santiago Garcia x Lacina Dumas.

Summary: Laci is supposed to go see a movie with Ben. Supposed to. A peak inside how Santia and Laci are doing.

Warnings: Just Benny being shitty. Fighting. Yelling.

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

Laci finished pouring extra oat milk into her pumpkin spiced latte, popping the lid on it. Usually, Laci didn’t have more than one cup of coffee a day as it made her anxious, but tonight she was staying up. “Hey baby.” She said to Santi as he cleaned up after dinner. “I’m going to sit on the porch while I wait for Benny.”

Today, Benny and Laci were going to the midnight premiere of Five Nights At Freddies, a movie based on a video game they loved. Laci spent hours watching Benny play it or watching youtubers play through and they were thrilled the movie was finally out. 

“Alright, would you like me to sit outside with you?” It was getting dark, and Laci didn’t like the dark.

“No, I’m okay, I’ll just use the screen door, okay?” 

“Okay baby, just let me know when you leave.”

“Of course!” 

Laci opened the main wood door and just had the screen door closed, that way Santi could hear her swinging on their porch swing. She was doing much better, making improvements all the time in what she was capable of, and Santi’s heart swelled with pride thinking of how far she’d come. He loved her, he loved her so fucking much it hurt sometimes…

That’s what made this rough patch so rough.

The two of them just haven’t quite been the same the last few months, and Santi just didn’t know why. It wasn’t bad, not compared to what Santi had seem between other couples, but it was unlike them. Santi wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong. He was certain there was something wrong; he wasn’t saying he was blameless. In fact, he was sure whatever was happening was his fault, not hers. He just… couldn’t pin point it.

And just what was happening? Sometimes, especially after spending the day with their friends, Laci would snap at him. She’d be short, sarcastic, maybe even a little rude… and he wasn’t sure why. She had always been his sweet girl, so kind and empathetic… but she wasn’t doing it to anyone else, so it must be his fault. He was trying harder to take care of her, to be there for her, but that just seemed to irritate her. Giving her space made her sad and nervous. Santi felt like he couldn’t do anything right. When he tried talking to her about it, or suggesting he go to one of her therapy appointments, she just shut down. Couldn't get a word out of her, verbal or signed. 

But he loved her, and he was still certain she loved him. There was not a doubt in his head that she loved him. So they were going to be okay. The reality of it was that Laci had been through 20 years of trauma that had only ended last year, and this was not something that would go away. She was going to have hard times, and he was going to be there for her. Nothing mattered to him more than Laci did.

It wasn’t all bad. In fact, it was mostly good, even still. They had been having a fun summer, and enjoying planning their wedding together. That made him happy, the fact she was so excited to be his wife made him fall more and more in love. It was going to be simple, in their backyard. Neither of them had any biological family left. Benny was her man of honor, Jana a bridesmaid, On Santi’s side, Will would be a groomsman and Frankie his best man. Rosie would be their flower girl, of course. For guests Laci would invite a few coworkers, Santi a couple military buddies. He’d sent an invite to Tom’s family, but doubted he’d get a  reply. They’d invited Marc and Bahar, friend’s they’d made on their trip to New York and of course Ben’s girlfriend, Alice and Will’s… Well, whatever Lorelei was.

She was still the primary source of joy in his life, someone who made him laugh, someone who comforted him, someone who cared for him and he cared for in return… And she was hot as all hell. The perfect women.

Laci storm inside, slamming the screen door.

“Hey munequita, you forget-”

“I’m not going.”

Santi set down the dishes he was putting in the dishwasher. “What? Why?” They’ve had tickets for a month.

“It’s fine, he just couldn’t make it, okay?” Her lip quivered and tears blurred in her eyes as she moved to their bedroom.

Santi followed after. He felt defensive of her; Benny had canceled 5 times this month for things he was supposed to do with Laci. “He couldn’t have figured that out before? He’s supposed to be picking you up!”

“Just drop it!” Laci slammed the door to their bedroom, and when he went to open it, he found it locked.

“Lace!?” He said with a panic, pulling at the handle. “Laci are you okay?” 

“Leave me alone!”

“What’s been going on with you!” Santi didn’t shout, but his voice was raised to project it through the door. “Why don’t you talk to me anymore!”

There was no response. Frustrated, but not wanting to invade her privacy especially in his high emotional state, Santi moved into the living room and pulled out his phone. He pulled up Ben’s contact.

“Hell-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Benny sighed on the other end. “I knew you’d call.”

“Damn right I’m calling! Why did you cancel again? Benny this is twice this week.”

“Santi just drop it.” Benjamin didn’t sound like himself either. He sounded tired. “I’m… sick, okay?”

Now that was bullshit. If Benny was sick, Laci would be asking him to drive her to CVS for medicine and going over to take care of him. She wouldn’t be crying, she’d be fretting with worry.

“Oh fuck off. What’s really going on?”

“Nothing, I’m just sick.” 

“You’re making her cry, Ben!” 

Beep beep, went his phone. Benny hung up.

Santi scrubbed his face, exhausted. Something had happened between them. Benny and Laci had been inseparable since the day they found her, Benny being the one who first got her to talk. They had been best friends ever since, but the last few months it seemed he was pulling away. From all of them, but especially Laci. Santi could tell how much it hurt her.

When he went back to the door, he heard soft crying below. Following the sound, Santi figured out she was laying on the floor as she cried. Santi laid down on his side.

“I’m right here, Lace. Whenever you need me.”

A small set of fingers peaked out from the crack under the door, and Santi gently entangled his with hers. They laid there for a while as Laci sobbed, Santi’s heart hurting for his fiance, wanting to hold her proper.

After a little, she spoke. “Alice doesn’t want Benny alone with me anymore…”

Of course. Of course it had to do with that bitch, Alice.

“Can I hold you munequita?

Shuffling came from her side and Santiago stood up. When the door opened, and he saw her red blotchy face, Santi took her in his arms tightly. 

Laci explained that Benny had been canceling because Alice had an issue with how much they hung out, that Alice accused him of cheating. She thought it was insane to go to a dark movie theater alone with her. Since the movie was sold out, she couldn’t go with them and got mad. Alice laid down a hard and fast rule that Laci and Benny couldn’t be alone together anymore. Santi was furious at Ben for being such a coward, for backing down so easily over his best friend, but this wasn’t the time. Laci’s head rested on his chest and Santiago played with her hair. It had gotten longer. She wanted length for the wedding. For his part, Santi had grown out his beard. He’d shave it for the wedding, but right now she liked the salt and pepper facial hair.

“Come on, let me take you to Five Nights at Freddy’s.” He said, coaxing her to look up at him. “If we leave now, we can still make it with all the adds they play.”

She looked a little confused. “You don’t like horror movies…”

“Oh sweetheart…” Taking her face in both his hands, he kissed her forehead before looking down at her pretty, wet, blue eyes. “I’d do anything for you. Absolutely anything. You have to know that, don’t you? Going to a movie is nothing, not when I’d get the moon if you asked.”

She dodged his eyes for a moment. “I don’t want you to watch something you hate.”

He swore up and down he wouldn’t hate it, horror just isn’t usually a genre he liked. Laci promised to make it up to him by letting him show her an Army movie. She’d even allow him to talk during the whole movie to tell her how unrealistic it was. In return, Laci explained all the lore of FNAF before the movie. They made it just in time.

That night as they lay in bed, Laci still wired from the coffee and Santi wired from the movie (how did she and Ben fall asleep to those movies?), Santi held her in his arms as he kissed through her hair.

“Do you still want to marry me?” Laci asked abruptly.

This shocked Santi enough to make him pause before turning on the bedroom light and sitting up. 

The lamp illuminated behind her, making her big ears that had hair tucked behind them stand out even more, but the worry-stricken expression was evident. 

“Baby… Laci, mi amor, why would you ask me that?” He was more confused than ever.

Tears welled up in her eyes again. “I know I’ve been… I’ve been mean lately… I don’t know why but it’s like the more I trust to stop the more frustrated I get… I just feel so angry lately and I’ve been taking it out on you and it’s not fair.”

“Oh, my perfect girl…” Santi rushed to hold her, drawing in her body to his arms in a tight squeeze. “Of course I still want to marry you, you are my joy, you are my greatest source of pride, you’re my heart and soul. Baby I love you, I adore you, and I want to spend the rest of our lives waking up next to you.”

“But, I haven’t been nice.” She sobbed, wetting his shirt in her tears.

“You don’t have to be nice all the time. You’ve been through things I can never imagine. Youre going to be angry sometimes.”

“But I shouldn’t take it out on you!” Laci insisted.

Santi wanted to say it was okay, he wanted to tell her she could… but that’s not what she needed.

“We’ll work on it together, baby, okay? You and me. Like we always do. You and me.”

Santiago let her cry into his arms for a while and she wore herself out, getting tired enough to lay down again and try to sleep. He kept her close.

As she drifted off to sleep, Laci kissed his bearded jaw. “You and me. It’s gonna be okay.” She sounded like she was reassuring herself. “Everything is gonna be okay.”

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

: ( they are struggling. But it's normal for couple to have some downs, and at least they are aware now. Laci struggling with losing Ben, who is supposed to be her man of honor. Benny.... come on.

@pimosworld @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @missdictatorme @milkymoon2483 @poeedameronn@itspdameronthings @miraclesabound @babymills16 @rayslittlekitten

#for the longest time #for the longest time series #leather and lace #lal universe #tf romanaverse #triple frontier #santiago garcia #santi and laci #Leathet and lace series