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highhhfiveee · 6 months

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mint (mike schmidt x reader)

*minor movie spoiler that isn’t a spoiler fr but kind of is*

tags: suggestiveness, swearing, fluff

oi. this is my first official piece of fanfic on tumblr and i'm excited but also super nervous. i never knew what characters i wanted to write for as most of my fandoms are obsolete tbh (teen wolf and maze runner, i'm looking at you 💔) but after watching the fnaf movie and falling in love with j hutch like i'm 14 again, i wanted to try to write for mike!

i'm sorry if this story sucks tbh. i wrote it pretty quickly, did not edit it in any way (watch for grammar and spelling errors!) and i'm still trying to establish characters and plot and do all this silly billy worldbuilding, but i'll get better! i'm also taking requests for both fluff and smut, so if y'all would like to send anything for me to write, i'll def accept! like i said in my last post, i think i'm gonna redo my tumblr layout so i can feel like a true fanfic/misc blog lmao so ignore its under construction phase ((: i hope y'all enjoy this though bc i've been thinking ab mike schmidt all night

i have sooo many ideas, but between last night and this morning, i’ve been thinking of abby’s babysitter!reader (bc fuck max).

you’ve been channel surfing in the living room since you put abby down, working with her to lock down a nightly routine. ideally, she’d bathe, eat dinner (god willingly), brush her teeth, and then you’d be able to get her to lay in bed and doze off. some nights, this required dessert.

“you just brushed your teeth though. it’s gonna taste gross.”

“not if it’s one of those mint chocolate things you always have.” you straighten up, eyes squinted at the child before you; she meant the small, sometimes melted, squares of Andes mint chocolate you always kept. they’d always been your favorite, a guilty pleasure in this fucked up world.

you hadn’t been babysitting abby for long, and you didn’t realize that she'd been watching you crush the chocolates like it was light work. they were easy to eat, and once you had one, you found out how easy it was to eat another one, and then another one, and then another one until there was a mountain of crinkled foil next to your phone and chocolate smeared on your face.

"please, y/n. just one," you didn't exactly know if it was a lie. abby was convincing, able to break you down with her eyes, pleading and puppy-dog like. "please."

you cave, leaning down to brush her hair back from her forehead and place a gentle kiss on the skin. with pursed lips, you whisper, "fine, but tomorrow night. i have to get some more."

abby does nothing but smile, eyes fluttering closed. you stay with her for a bit like you always do--watching the way her chest rises and falls, and how her features twitched with slumber. features scarily similar to mike's.

of course she'd look like mike. they were siblings, no shit, but the resemblance occupied your brain. there was sweet abby, with her colorful clothes and scribbled drawings and persuasive aura, and then there was mike.

you shake your head, giving abby another kiss before exiting her room. you didn't need to think about mike. he wasn't what you were here for. you'd come to abby's school as an aide and after she'd privately confided in you about her home life, you knew you had to help her. you would do anything for her, even if that meant taking care of her while suppressing the overwhelming school girl crush you had on her older brother.

mike was a bit older than you, which didn't scare you at all. guys in their early 20s were rarely mature, doing anything they could just to fuck; but guys in their late 20s, mike specifically, had only ever shown you couth, surprisingly.

for nearly two months, five mornings a week, the sound of the door being unlocked would ring out. you'd turn to see sunshine pouring into the living room, enveloping mike's brooding figure in a radiant golden glow.

he'd hang his coat on the wall hooks, drop his bag down to his feet, and give you a small but warm smile. you'd try to not to embarrass yourself as you two made small talk, packing up your things.

you always left unscathed, but recently it'd been hard. you were always thinking about him, dreaming about him even; how his hair would feel between your fingers, how his hands would feel on your face, how his face would feel between your thighs.

the thought is washed away, drowned out by the sound effects of a loud infomercial when the door opens, and you're turning and squinting against the wash of pale yellow on your face. mike steps forward with a, "hey, y/n" and you meekly raise your hand to wave.

he hangs his hoodie up to reveal his shoulder blades flexing under an uncharacteristically tight navy blue sweater. you can't help but stare.

"just wake up?" his voice is raspy, but he's still facing the wall, rummaging in his bag for something.

"um...yeah. brain's still turning on," you lie, tossing the thick blue blanket off your body. you didn't sleep at all, kept up with your thoughts and the last of your Andes mints (though you loved her, you couldn't give abby your last ones).

"hm," he mutters, finally turning to you but keeping his hands behind his back. something crinkles in them and you raise your eyebrow at the tired yet amused expression he takes with you. it's enough to make your body hot and you awkwardly pull at the collar of your shirt, fanning yourself off.

"hot?" the gravelly tone sends you into a giggling fit, shaking your head as you shoot to your feet. you have to leave before you do or say something you regret.

"uh, yeah, it was s-super hot under that...um...blanket. i shouldn't have worn sweatpants to s-sleep," you stutter, nodding your head along with mike as he steps closer to you. this couldn't be the moment something happens, right? it'd been so casual between you too, very friendly, and he'd never shown any signs of trying to do anything with you before. why would he choose right now, so spontaneously?

he stands before you, the slightest bit taller than you. you're able to see every pore, every freckle, every microscopic detail in his eyes and lips.

you open your mouth, hoping your heart doesn't fall out, to ask what's happening, when he reveals a bag of Andes mints, one bigger than you've ever seen.

your mouth stays open in surprise. "wh-"

"abby's been talking about them. i wondered where she found out about them but--" he nudges his head towards the coffee table, where a small mound of green wrappers lay. you swear under your breath, cursing yourself for not throwing them away like you usually do.

"i'm sorry," you whisper, blushing beyond measure as you begin to frantically pack your things. "i should be more careful with that stuff."

"god, y/n, you're saying it like it's coke," mike chuckles. he sets the bag down on the couch and reaches out to you, placing his hand on yours as you shove things into your tote. "hey."

his voice forces you to stop and look up. you melt under his stare just like you do with abby. the puppy-dog thing must run in the family.

"i feel bad about not being able to pay you yet, and i really appreciate all you're doing. abby told me that you loved those mints, so..."

"thank you, mike," you say over the sound of your pounding heart. you didn't care about the money, you didn't need it. being appreciated by someone who made your heartbeat resonate throughout your body was payment enough. "this is really sweet."

"thank you, y/n. you don't know how much this means to me." You scoff, throwing your tote over your shoulder and looking down at your feet.

"i'm always happy to help." you and mike stand facing each other for what feels like hours, the air as thick as molasses between you. his eyes were squinted, low and dark and intriguing.

you wished you could read his mind. what was he thinking? did his heart do the same thing as yours, wacking against his ribcage with no end in sight? did he stay up thinking about you when he was supposed to be sleeping, imagining how you felt, what you sounded like, how you tasted---

"see you later tonight?" his voice rocks you out of your trance. he's not thinking about you. he's tired, wondering when you'll leave so he can fall into his bed and doze off.

"yeah. tell abby i said i'll see her tonight." your smile is tight as you exit the house, cursing at yourself as you get into your car.

you didn't know how long you could go on like this.

ya, i know this sucks and it isn't really anything but we're gonna work our way through these fics and blurbs to really develop a cute relationship (,: i will still be writing other fics for mike, and possibly using another babysitter!reader in a different universe, but as for now, we're gonna be rocking with these two (: (thinking that we’ll label her as 🌱🍫!reader)

all notes are appreciated (: thanks for reading!

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie #mike schmidt fluff #faire is writing stuff #fnaf fic

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lady-rose-moon · 7 months

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HIIIII! Omg I got so excited when I saw that you're gonna be writing again. I read your fics before I figured out how to interact with authors without feeling embarrassed so this might be the first you're seeing of me, but I am a huge fan! I was hoping to request for a Loki fic? With these prompts:

"you're safe, you're safe" "what if I'm not?" "you're safe."

"who did this to you?"

"what are you doing out here, late at night?"

"I'm sorry" "don't you dare apologise for this"

Thank you so much!

You're so safe || Loki x Vanir!Reader || hurt/comfort

A/N: hello, my love, it is so nice to finally meet you! I do apologise for this being SO late but I have only just received the inspiration I needed for this project and I hope you like it! Please do interact with me more, I don't bite <3

↣ MASTERLIST

“I don’t care what you think!” you yelled, standing in the golden throne room of Asgard, sneering up at Odin on his throne, his whole demeanour menacing and unapproachable, yet you didn’t care, “I will find him, he is not dead!”

Odin merely gazed down at you, his expression unreadable as you stood beneath him. The older God had called you in today after receiving word that you were going to leave Asgard in an attempt to bring back Loki Odinson. He was your betrothed so why shouldn’t you fight to get him back?

“I am not asking for your permission, Odin,” you sneered, disregarding his title, bringing him down a few pegs so he is not as different as he wants to be, “he is your son but he is my betrothed and you shall not hold me back from him!”

That was when the Allfather spoke for the first time since you marched into the room with guards holding your arms. He studied you, noting how you were no longer the demure, frightened child he had selected for Loki. You had been corrupted by the Jötun and he had to remedy that. “You are still young, Lady Y/L/N,” the Allfather spoke, his voice as cold as his expression was, “I shall begin the search for a more… appropriate match.”

You reeled back, appalled at the King’s words before you broke into hysterical laughter, shaking your head. “You do that, Odin, and break the treaty with my family, I challenge you to,” you sneered before turning on your heel and departing from the throne room.

Before you could be grabbed by the guards, you broke into a run, smirking at the shocked exclaims of the guards behind you as you took of running down the hallways, expertly avoiding every attempt to be grabbed by various guards. With a grin, you slipped into Loki’s old chambers, not glancing at anything that could risk you to break into sobs and instead venturing to his wardrobe, pulling out one of his tunics and pants, hurriedly changing before running out onto the balcony and calling your magic to you to lift you down from it into the Queen’s gardens.

Once your feet pressed against the soft grass of the land below, you took off into a sprint, heading to the edge of the garden, searching for the gate covered in ivy. Before you could find it, however, you froze as a soft ‘Lady Y/N’ drifted across the garden. You turned and saw Queen Frigga frozen in the doorway to her garden.

“Your majesty!” you gasped, dropping into a curtsy even if it was quite difficult with your inappropriate clothing. Standing tall, you eyed Frigga nervously and spoke softly, “I’m not going to sit here and wait for a confirmation that he’s dead. I feel that he’s alive. Let me go.”

Frigga didn’t say anything, merely rushed over to you and pulled you into her arms. The Queen of Asgard’s hugs had always been a comfort and this time, it comforted your worried heart and the kiss she pressed to your brow was reassuring. “I never saw you,” Frigga whispered as a promise before turning away.

Smiling, you continued your search for the gate before exclaiming in victory when you found it, unlatching the lock and pushing the gate open and rushing through, pulling it shut and using seiðr to lock it behind you. With great knowledge of the layout of Asgard, you had no issue taking the long route around Asgard even as the warning bells raged from the palace and more guards were stationed near the broken Bifrost.

As you were hiding behind a barrel, waiting for a few guards to pass, you felt a tug on your leg which caught your attention. It was a small girl, dressed in her golden nightgown holding a rabbit teddy, her blue eyes staring up at you innocently. “Where are you going, Lady Y/N? They’re looking for you,” the girl whispered, seeming to understand the need to be quiet.

“The King has kept me in a tower, punishing me for my prince’s choices, I am on a brave mission to save him,” you explained, playing on the girl’s imagination, “so you must be quiet and never mention that you saw me. It’s all a game. I have to be ignored and not seen; do you understand? You must be quiet.”

“I promise,” the girl whispered before running off down the alley.

You nodded before taking off in a run, your feet now firmly planted on the glass of the Bifrost. As you approached the broken end of the Bifrost, you froze as you saw Thor standing there with Heimdall. Cursing beneath your breath, you approached them and stood beside Thor.

“You won’t stop me,” you whispered viciously, “I’ll jump if I must.”

“No need,” Thor answered with a grimace, gripping Mjolnir so tight that his knuckles had turned white, “he’s on Midgard.”

“Midgard?” you repeated with surprise before nodding and turning to Thor, “so we’re going.”

“I’m going, Lady Y/N, I must arrest him, he is not the man you knew,” Thor answered, turning to Heimdall and nodding, “do it.”

With a scoff, you watched as Heimdall lifted his sword and murmured the prayer to open the Bifrost without the observatory and when it opened and Thor was sucked into it, you jumped in too, ignoring the call from Heimdall.

The travel to Midgard wasn’t that long but when you arrived, it was dark. You’d appeared within a corn field, the soft rustling of the leaves comforting your anxiety before you closed your eyes and focused on the connection between yourself and Loki. That’s when you felt his seiðr for the first time in a year but it felt… wrong. Corrupted. That gave you more of a reason to find him, you needed to make sure that he was alright.

So, you latched onto his magic and disappeared with a soft glow before reappearing outside a glass cage. Disoriented, you grabbed a bar quickly to stabilise yourself before realising what was happening. You turned your head and there was Loki, his hair longer and greasy, his eyes a striking blue when they had once been green and his armour slightly askew.

“Loki?” you whispered weakly, staring in surprise before running across the bridge to the glass, pressing your hands against it, watching as Loki studied you carefully, “I thought… Oh, Loki.”

The God of Mischief tilted his head before striding over to where you were stood and sneering at you, “now you show up? After Thor?”

You stammered, thrown off by his violence toward you and tears rose to your eyes. “Loki… I tried to find you, I swear it! When you fell, I wished to jump after you but Thor wouldn’t let me.”

Loki chuckled darkly before stepping away from you and staring at you as if you were scum to him. “It took you a year to find me, how pathetic,” he spat, making you flinch, “what a pathetic fiancée.”

In that moment, you realised it wasn’t just his magic that was corrupted. It was him. He wanted your tears. He wouldn’t get them. You lifted your head with a soft smile, dipping into a curtsy before walking away.

Somehow, you’d been roped into assisting the band of Midgardians (and Thor) defeat Loki. You would follow Iron Man into his tower to confront Loki but that hadn’t ended well and you’d been knocked out by Stark’s flying Iron Man device as it raced after Stark when Loki threw him out of the window.

You were only awoken by the Hulk’s roar and Loki’s response. Groggily, you woke up and saw Loki shouting at Hulk, “you are, all of you, beneath me! I am a God you foul creature and I will not be bullied by- Ah!”

You watched as Hulk grabbed Loki’s ankle and began to bash him around like a ragdoll. You flinched as you watched Loki’s pained face after Hulk left and instantly raced over to him, pulling his head into your lap.

“Loki?” you whispered, your fingers delicately tracing Loki’s face, “Loki… are you okay?”

Loki didn’t answer for a while before he gazed up at you and his eyes lit up with recognition unlike how they’d been days ago. He knew you. Elation lit up your chest and you grinned down at him.

“Hello, love,” Loki whispered softly, his hands gently tracing up your arms before pulling you into a tight embrace, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head and brushed some hair away from his face, smiling down at him tenderly before whispering, “no, don’t you dare apologise for this. You weren’t you. NEVER apologise for this.”

Loki hesitated before laughing softly at you and shaking his head, resting his forehead against your chest and sighing with relief. “We have to leave, you’ll be considered a criminal to them now,” Loki whispered, his eyes shining with worry.

You laughed softly and nodded before helping him sit up and looking out at the sky as Chitauri continued to fly out of the portal. Then, you looked back at him and softly whispered, “how do we stop this?”

“Let them stop it,” Loki whispered, groaning in pain before his hands gleamed with green magic and you stepped closer to him, feeding your magic into his spell and you both disappeared from the tower, appearing two realms away on your home planet of Vanaheim.

The quiet of the brook and the crickets in the grass instantly calmed you and a smile lit up your face before you helped Loki to his feet and whispered, “come on, I know a place.”

For an hour, the two of you walked, Loki progressively becoming able to walk on his own until you reached a raging waterfall. Your hand gleamed gold and the water split, revealing a door concealed in the rock. Turning it, you brought Loki inside and closed the door, candles and lamps lighting as soon as the door closed.

“Welcome home,” you whispered with a soft grin, guiding Loki over to a sofa and helping him sit down, “this place is hidden from Odin and Heimdall, father created it for me centuries ago.”

Loki observed the place with a soft smile, there were simple decorations, but it was a blank canvas for the both of you. “It’s perfect,” Loki whispered softly before doubling over and groaning, clutching his head.

Instantly, you rushed over to him and removed the majority of his armour until he was left in his tunic and pants. There, you hesitated but when Loki nodded to you, you lifted the tunic and gasped at the sight of grotesque slashes across his back and arms. “Loki… what… who did this to you” you seethed, lightly tracing the slashes, observing the poorly healed cuts and infections.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Loki whispered brokenly, avoiding your gaze and trying to hide how much pain he was in. The God of Mischief grimaced in pain as you pressed your finger against a cut and watched infected pus pool out of it.

“Try me,” you whispered to him, standing from the sofa and walking into the kitchen before returning with a healing kit, sitting beside Loki again and beginning to cover his back with healing salve.

Loki hesitated but when he saw that you were serious, he began to tell you everything. About his fall, about Thanos, about the Infinity Stone controlling him and the torture he was put under for the majority of the year that he’d been missing. All the way through his explanation, you let him speak and pressed loving kisses to his forehead when you could. When he was done, you pulled him close to you and allowed him to cry.

“Shh,” you whispered to him, lovingly tracing your fingers through his hair, “you’re safe, Loki, you’re safe.”

Loki leaned into your comfort, his body trembling from the pain of the salve healing his back, seeking more of your comfort. Still, the trauma of what he went through haunted his mind. “But… what if… what if I’m not?” Loki whispered weakly, “Thanos, he… he’s horrible! Terrifying! Worse than anybody we’ve thought of before as being wicked!”

“You’re safe,” you answered, pressing a kiss to Loki’s brow, holding him close to you, allowing him to curl further into your chest, “as long as we are together then we will protect each other. Do not fret, you are so safe.”

Shortly after that, Loki had fallen asleep and you’d needed to magically carry him to the bedroom and cover him. Now, however, you awoke and Loki was nowhere to be found. Startled, you rose out of bed and searched everywhere before finding that the door leading out to the top of the waterfall was open.

Outside, you found Loki sat in the water, staring up at Vanaheim’s constellations, his eyes vacant and sad. As you approached, he flinched and a dagger formed in his hand but when he realised that it was you, he relaxed and muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s natural, with your amount of trauma, Loki,” you whispered, sitting on the bank close to him, following his gaze up to the constellations, “what are you doing out here, late at night?”

The God gazed over at you with a lost expression on his face before he whispered, “couldn’t really sleep. Nightmares.”

You nodded and with a slow movement, you were sitting beside him in the cold water of the river, listening to the rush of the water going over the edge and landing below. You rested your head on his shoulder and held his hand tight in your own with a soft smile as you whispered, “you’re so safe, Loki, we have each other, you’re so, so safe.”

You heard Loki release a broken sob but said nothing, knowing that while he had your support, he also needed to fix his mental state on his own too. The God of Mischief was broken but you knew with time, he would find a new type of normal.

“I half expect the Bifrost to open and Thor to take me by my neck to Asgard, to my death,” Loki admitted quietly after several minutes in silence, “I miss my brother, Y/N, the brother he was when we were little. Not the brute he became.”

You nodded and gently brushed your thumb over his hand, just listening to his admissions. Loki appreciated your silence, your understanding that he just needed to talk, he just needed to feel like he was safe.

“I’ll never see him again, nor will I see mother,” he continued, tears in his eyes as he stared up at the star that he knew was the realm of Asgard, his home and the place that rejected him, “I wish I could say I was sorry to her, my sweet mother. She never did anything wrong.”

That’s when Loki embraced you, pulling you into his lap and pressing a kiss to your forehead before pointing up to Asgard’s star. “Perhaps, upon the day of Odin’s death, I shall return to my brother and my mother,” he whispered, his eyes full of hope for that future.

“Perhaps,” you responded with a soft smile, cuddling into his warmth before you began to shiver. “But for now,” you grinned, “back to bed, it’s cold.”

Loki chuckled and stood from the water, gathering you bridal style in his arms before walking down back into the house.

Glancing out at the sky over Loki’s shoulder, you glared at the blackness of the sky, swearing revenge on Thanos for what he did to your beloved. Little did you know, he was glaring right back at you.

~~~~

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @evelyn-kingsley @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loki-laufeyson-1054 @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @anukulee @eleniblue

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #loki fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #mcu loki #jotun loki x reader #reblog please #tom hiddleston character x reader #requests open #loki hurt/comfort #loki x you #sad loki

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waltybrainrot · 18 days

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walty headcanons

❥ they don’t hold hands, they link their pinkies

❥ they’re roommates at hillerska

❥ pre-dating they would push their beds together to have movie nights and wake up with their limbs tangled (eventually they stop bothering to pull their beds apart again <3)

❥ not walty but the previous 2 points apply to stedrika as well

❥ walter was raised by a single mom

❥ henry’s parents SUCK

❥ bi henry + gay walter

❥ introvert walter + extrovert henry

❥ only child henry + older brother walter (younger sister)

❥ both are insecure in their own ways. henry overcompensates (to an extent) while walter makes himself small (figuratively)

❥ previous point does NOT apply when they're around eachother however (which is most of the time). it cancels out.

❥ they share clothes. like all the time. they don't even know which clothes belong to who anymore.

❥ the tutoring lessons were paid for by and intended for henry, walter just tagged along cause they have separation anxiety

❥ walter's mom knew before he did that he was in love with henry

❥ seek eachother out everywhere always; they gravitate towards eachother subconsciously and consciously

❥ they go to the same school after hillerska closes down

❥ walter joins whichever sports team that school has, henry goes to every match/tournament/competition to cheer for him

❥ orange cat + brown cat (in a black cat + golden retriever way)

kinda stole the layout idea from @ssnowypetalss (this post specifically) thanks <3

#walty #headcanons #henry young royals #walter young royals #young royals

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baesm · 9 months

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🎰🃏 — play the game, play the game tag & jibeom moodboard, game mv teaser

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sparkling-ha · 2 days

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੭୧ㅤ۫ㅤ۪ ꒰ Jibeom – Golden Child ꒱ㅤ۫ㅤᰍ

Like or reblog if you like, reblog or save!

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freddy-and-friends-au · 4 months

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The Freddy & Friends Askbox is now open!

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An introduction to Freddy & Friends:

Freddy & Friends is an AU created by Roux36 Productions set in the Five Nights at Freddy’s IP.

As opposed to focusing on a single “what if?” question for the AU, F&F is a rewrite of the FNAF story in its entirety, constructed from the ground-up to tell a more realistic, character-driven take on the original story.

——————————————

What asks will I answer? (Examples provided)

Lore (Ex: How do the spirits work?)

World-Building (Ex: Who made the pizza recipes at Freddy’s)

Headcanons (Ex: Who’s Jeremy’s favorite music artist?)

Art requests? (Not sure about this one yet… but maybe?)

Character Asks!

Ask a question from within the Freddy & Friends universe, and it’ll be answered by the creator of the Fazbear Franchise, HENRY ███!!!

(Preface by saying “Dear Henry,”)

———————————————

Click the keep reading to learn more about the Freddy & Friends AU! >>>

——————————————

How much thought did you put into this?

It’s not that I’m a massive nerd, but it’s just that I’m actually a massive nerd.

Animatronics are loosely grounded in real-world mechanical engineering, giving them plausible designs for them to have existed in the 1980’s (down to the very components that make them function.)

The restaurant itself has regulations and procedures to manage the animatronics during the day (this varies depending on the restaurant).

The restaurant layouts themselves have been redesigned to be more coherent with the rules of architecture.

The animatronic characters themselves have their own lore and personalities within the cartoon world.

I have a full list of employees who worked at both Afton Robotics and Fazbear Entertainment.

The rules of the spirits are grounded in real-world cultural beliefs, as well as typical ghost hunting traditions.

No character is written to be two-dimensional. The characters don’t just do stuff for the plot; they do them because it’s in-character for them to do so. They’re not just ghost children haunting the animatronics. They’re also human.

———————————————

What IS canon?

Basic media taken into consideration:

Five Nights at Freddy’s

Five Nights at Freddy’s 2

Five Nights at Freddy’s 3

Five Nights at Freddy’s 4

Five Nights at Freddy’s: The Silver Eyes

FNAF World (Surprisingly)

Five Nights at Freddy’s: Sister Location

Five Nights at Freddy’s: The Movie

Details Only taken from:

Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria Simulator

Five Nights at Freddy’s: Help Wanted

Five Nights at Freddy’s: Security Breach

The ideas of these media are the content detrimental to the story of Freddy & Friends. However, the story of them has been changed so drastically that canon knowledge is considered unreliable when talking about the Freddy & Friends AU. Some things remain the same, but it’s recommended that knowledge of canon game/book/movie events NOT be used as a reference unless I have stated otherwise.

What’s the same?:

Mike Schmidt and Abby Schmidt’s character have remained almost exactly the same as in the movie. (Movie)

Michael Brooks is Golden Freddy (Novels)

Elizabeth Afton being killed by Circus Baby (Games)

The Bite of ‘83 (Games)

The Bite of ‘87 (Games)

Bonnie is blue

What’s changed?:

Note: not all changes will be mentioned here, due to spoilers. The reason they’re spoilers is because I will elaborate on them in future media and short stories.

Michael Afton does NOT exist—replaced by Fritz Afton

FNAF 4 Crying Child becomes the Puppet

FNAF 4 Bullies are the Missing Children

FNAF 4 Bullies are NOT bullies

The haunted animatronics have personalities, and are capable of verbal speech.

Sammy (Charlie’s twin brother) was killed instead of Charlie

Charlie is NOT an android

Very few employees (including night guards) actually died at Freddy’s

The animatronics are limited by the technology of the 1980’s, and therefore have software limitations that aren’t present in the games

Circus Baby’s Pizza World has been renamed to Circus Kingdom Pizza World

The names of the Funtimes have been changed to align with the re-theme

The Funtimes were NOT built with the intention of kidnapping children

The Funtimes are haunted

The Scooper does not exist

The FNAF 4 gameplay is a dream, and not child experimentation. (It is something more than that, but I will not elaborate further, due to spoilers. ;))

The Toy animatronics have been renamed to the Junior animatronics

The Junior location is Freddy Jr’s Pizzeria

The individual Junior characters have in-universe names beyond “Junior Freddy” and “Junior Bonnie”, etc.

The Juniors are haunted

There is no such thing as “Remnant”.

Vanessa Shelly is NOT William Afton’s Daughter

Steve Raglan and William Afton are two different people

Removed Herobrine

(Aforementioned name changes):

Circus Baby - Circus Sadie, AKA Sadie the Circus Princess

Funtime Freddy - Freddie the Ringmaster

Funtime Foxy - Foxy the Flying Fox

Toy Freddy - Freddy Fazbear Jr.

Toy Bonnie - Riley Rabbit

Toy Chica - Penny Pecks

Toy Foxy/Mangle - Bridget the Fox

——————————————

Thank you!

If you made it to the end, I wanna thank you for showing interest in this AU! I’ve been working on it ever since I was 11 years old, and I’ve just turned 20. It's been a long road with at least five rewrites and twice as many redesigns!

More Freddy & Friends content will be coming soon, in the form of:

A webcomic for the main narrative

Cinematic content

A VHS series

Short stories

Audiobooks for said short stories

A website to be!

The askbox is now open! There is much to tell, so ask away!

- Roux

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velidewrites · 1 year

Text

When the High Lord of Spring's bargain with Amarantha fails, Rhysand escapes the Deceiver's prison and runs to the Mortal Lands.

Intent on killing a faerie out of the hatred in her heart, Feyre spends the night hunting in the wintry woods. She doesn't expect to find a man there - the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

Pairing: Feyre x Rhysand

Word Count: 3071

Notes: Based on this prompt from @ablogofbipanic: "Going home isn't an option anymore."

Read on AO3

The sky was a veil of shadows, thick and heavy over the forest. They cast a darkness more somber than usual—it seemed that even the stars had hidden away in its presence, their shimmering glow nowhere in sight. From down here, Feyre couldn’t even see the moon, its silvery light dimmed by the snow-capped trees towering high overground.

It made the hunt much more difficult.

She must have been roaming the ice-clad paths for hours now, her back sore from slipping too many times to count. She’d always made a point to return to the cottage before nightfall—she’d heard too many stories of those who lost themselves to the darkness to risk overstaying her welcome. But winter had finally arrived to the mortal lands, tightening its frigid grip around Feyre’s village and the hollow stomachs of everyone who had the displeasure of inhabiting it. And so, when the orange-and-lilac palette of the dusk shifted into a murky grey, and Feyre’s hunting bag remained as empty as it had been earlier in the afternoon, she was left with no choice but to stay.

It wasn’t her first time spending the night in the forest, though if she were honest, her experience gave her little comfort. She’d been thirteen when she got lost in the labyrinth of snow and ice, when the dark had woven her into its thread and refused to let go. Feyre remembered little of it.

She did remember the Wall, though.

Somehow, she’d found her way there, despite it being buried so deep in the woods that some of the villagers had begun to call it a myth. Yet there it stood, a fortress of hardened wind, glistening with the faintest of lights as it shielded her from the horrors that laid ahead. Feyre had been a fool then—or perhaps simply a child—so she’d approached it, her steps wobbly with exhaustion and fear but curious to catch a glance of the magic she knew hid somewhere out there.

Its tangy scent had hit her first—almost metallic, like the iron they’d told her to wear as a protective charm. It made sense, for a thing so cruel and unyielding to leave a bitter taste on her tongue. She wasn’t sure why she’d expected any better.

She’d been about to leave, too repulsed by what she’d found, when she saw it.

Something she would never forget until the very day she died.

A pair of emerald eyes, staring right back at her.

It should have been impossible to make out their colour in the darkest hours of the night, with the magic separating them—and yet they glinted clear as the jewels she remembered seeing in her mother’s vanity, in the house she thought she’d never thought she’d have to say goodbye too. Those eyes reminded her of the rolling green hills that sprawled on the horizon over the village, their lush scent carried by the springtime breeze.

Those eyes belonged to a beast.

It had been years, but Feyre still remembered its claws as they dug into the ground—as though trying to carve a passage through the ground. A passage that would get it to her—one that would let this creature bury its sharp teeth in her neck, let it pierce her body on its serpentine horns, let it feel her blood sink into its golden fur and stain it with her death.

Feyre had never run faster.

She didn’t remember much of what happened after—she’d left her bow behind and hadn’t heard the end of it from Nesta for days. She never made that same mistake again, careful to mark her trail until the forest’s treacherous layout was well molded into her head. Until tonight, of course.

Tonight, she got lost again.

She’d thought she saw a rabbit—a pathetic excuse of a dinner, but a dinner nonetheless—and followed it without thinking, without the time to mark the bark of one of the trees with the blood she’d kept from her last hunt. The little animal escaped before she managed to make it her prey, leaving her empty-handed and in the middle of a clearing she’d never seen before.

Feyre could only hope the Wall was far away. She’d been hearing whispers about cracks in the impenetrable shield—cracks large enough to tempt the uninvited to slip through. Two weeks ago, Clare Beddor had gone into the forest to pick up some berries—her family just as starved by winter and hopeless and Feyre’s own—only to never return. No one had searched for her body, and not because hope had left them, too— but because they all knew there was no body left to be found.

The Children of the Blessed, naturally, had explained it as a miracle—a blessing, even, that the creatures beyond the Wall had deemed one of them worthy enough to join their kingdom. They talked of infinite riches and passionate lovers, awaiting Clare on the other side, seemingly under the impression that the faerie would worship her—the same way the Children worshipped them.

They were even bigger fools than Feyre.

Clare was dead, and she died in broad daylight. Those monsters didn’t care about consequences, about retribution, for there was none—for they could kill them as they pleased now, with the Wall no longer intact.

At times, Feyre wished she could kill a faerie. Not for a meal, not for hunting practice as she did with the squirrels—but for the pure satisfaction of it. Perhaps, if she somehow got out of this mess, she would one day get to do it. The bow she’d replaced her lost one with wasn’t nearly as springy as the original, but she reckoned one ash arrow would be enough to do the job. She’d been saving one for such an occasion—had bought it on her fifteenth birthday, when she’d gathered enough gold marks to make such purchase. She’d begun saving the money the day after she saw the beast.

As if on instinct, her hand reached out to the quiver strapped to her back, making sure the arrow was, in fact, still there. Still ready to make the kill if necessary. Her shoulders nearly sagged with relief as her fingers brushed the rough, prickly wings of the weapon.

Something rustled in the distance, and within seconds, the ash arrow no longer rested in her quiver—it laid on the bowstring, aimed at the bushes ahead.

Her body eased into her stance despite her thundering heart, and Feyre had never been more grateful for the steadiness of her hands even in the shivery cold. She wasn’t alone anymore, she had never been more certain of anything in her life—and she was pretty sure it was not the rabbit.

Was it the beast, returning for her after all those years? Would it pin her to the ground, ready to lay claim to her as punishment for daring to look upon its terrifying face, for witnessing its magic? Would it kill her now, or take it to its lands, fertilise them with her blood like they did with Clare Beddor?

It hit her, then—she was never coming back.

The hand on her bow trembled.

And then, the leaves rustled again.

Whatever emerged from between them, it was cloaked in shadows, as thick and swirling as the night, but Feyre knew this darkness did not come from the sky—it came from this, this nebula of grim, arcane magic.

It came…from him.

He came into view when the darkness slithered back, revealing his figure inch by inch until it pooled at his feet, a pet waiting for the instructions from his master. They curled over the soft piles of snow, cracking the thin sheet of ice beneath it, as though the darkness didn’t enjoy the wintry cold, either.

Perhaps, Feyre thought, it was the one thing they had in common.

For reasons she couldn’t quite discern, the stranger stepped forward then—a half step, really, but close enough for their gazes to meet at last.

Feyre held her breath.

The darkness was indeed a man—the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

It must have been a trick—a trick, because even though he himself looked immaculate, the shadows at his feet were tainted by that same, metallic tinge that made her lips twist in distaste. It was possible that whoever this creature was, it had veiled itself in this form thinking it would please her—thinking it would make her lower her bow, maybe even fall to her knees.

Feyre would not be a fool again.

“Who are you,” she said, a demand more than a question.

The man’s eyes glimmered as she spoke, and Feyre noticed that, in the darkest of nights, their deep blue shone almost violet.

“Help me,” he rasped.

And then, he collapsed.

It surprised her enough that a gasp tore free from her throat, her grip on her bow lighter. Was he…dead?

Blood—crimson, just like her own—splattered on the snow, the darkness skidding back at the impact of his body hitting the ground. She had never seen a man so large—tall and strong, like the warriors from the legends the village elders often spoke of. War-hardened—from a different time.

He did not move—didn’t even twitch as he laid there on the ground—and Feyre started to think that maybe, this was not really a trick. That maybe, just maybe, that was a real man dying right in front her. That she was simply standing there, watching and letting it happen.

Her bow dropped to the snow, and Feyre lunged.

She was at his side in an instant, his face turned in the other direction and preventing her from assessing the damage. A broken nose, likely. A splintered lip, perhaps. What had battered him so immensely?

Gods, he really was not moving at all. Was it truly too late?

Slowly, Feyre placed her hand on his shoulder, clad in a fine, black jacket lined with a silver thread. Whoever he was, he must have come from wealth Feyre hadn’t even known in the old days, when she was only a child, unaware of the forest and the dangers within.

This man didn’t seem dangerous, though. Aside from the darkness, of course—but the night-like magic that had previously seemed to cling to every inch of his golden-brown skin was now resting a feet away, as though content to observe her efforts.

Feyre swiped her thumb over the velvety fabric, and the man stirred.

“You’re not dead,” she breathed.

A low, stifled groan escaped him, and he turned his face to her, the black waves of his hair shifting with the movement and revealing a long, arched ear.

Feyre yanked her hand away.

“You’re High Fae,” she said, the sound no more than a whisper on her lips.

“I—” he hissed, those violet eyes squeezing shut at whatever pain the word had caused him, “I won’t hurt you.”

Feyre looked at him, so bloodied and pathetic on the ground, and considered. Faeries couldn’t lie. Was he injured enough that the thought of killing her had not even crossed his mind?

With another, deep groan, the man’s fingers dug into the ground as he attempted to pull himself up.

She spoke before she could re-think just how much she was about to risk. “Wait.” He looked at her again, his stare glazed by pain. “You’re hurt. Let me—let me help you,” she offered, lacing her arm under his.

Surprisingly, he was warm. She didn’t expect the contact to feel so…normal. Truthfully, Feyre wasn’t entirely sure what she was expecting.

He was heavy, too, as though the weight he was carrying was not that of his body, but the entire world. She had never seen someone yield to another so easily—he hadn’t even flinched when she touched him. Feyre began wondering if the torment she saw in his eyes was not really pain, but resignation.

“What happened to you?” She didn’t realise she said the words out loud.

Now on his knees and little over eye-level with Feyre, he finally loosed a breath. “That bad?” he asked.

Feyre blinked. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?” She gestured to the blood dripping down his nose, his sharp jaw, flooding the countless cuts over his neck. “You look like you’d just lost a battle.”

A shadow passed over that beautiful face. “You have no idea how right you are,” he said quietly.

At that, she had no idea what to say.

“They will heal in a moment,” he continued, waving a hand to his injuries as though they were nothing. “It is taking longer than usual, though. I apologise you have to witness this.”

“I don’t have to witness anything,” Feyre countered, suddenly very aware she’d left her bow in the snow a few feet behind. “I could leave you here right now.”

He surveyed her for a moment, his gaze sweeping over her face before landing on her eyes again. “Indeed you could.”

And yet, Feyre remained in place.

“Why are you…” she started, unsure what to even ask. Why are you injured? Why are you apologising?

Why are you here?

“It’s not my injuries that cause me pain,” he explained, as if she’d somehow shouted her thoughts at him, “but my magic. Winnowing over the Wall is no easy task—even for me.”

Feyre’s brows knitted. “Winnowing?”

“Forgive me.” He cleared his throat. “I…travelled over here. Using my magic. What’s left of it, anyway.”

“I don’t understand.”

He shook his head, and Feyre noticed the crooked bump of his broken nose had miraculously managed to straighten, the drying blood the only proof of the now nonexistent injury.

“I wouldn’t expect you to. It’s my fault, I…” he sighed deeply. “I didn’t expect to see anyone in the woods at this hour.”

Feyre dared to ask, “Did you slip through the cracks in the Wall?”

His jaw clenched slightly. “I escaped.”

Escaped? High Fae were supposed to be the powerful ones—the mighty faerie lords, overseeing the creatures roaming the lands above the Wall. Who—what—was powerful enough to have battered him to such extent?

“You don’t want to know,” he said bitterly.

Feyre’s eyes widened. “You—” a cold chill shot down her spine at the realisation. “Get out of my head.”

The man sat now, his eyes closing as his hand reached to rub his temple. “I’m sorry—it’s not intentional,” he promised. “Your thoughts are so clear it feels like you’re throwing them right at me.”

Feyre swallowed hard. “You can do that?”

He nodded.

“Who are you?”

“I am High Fae.”

“No,” Feyre pressed. “Your name.”

His brows furrowed. “What does it matter to you?”

What did it matter? As far as Feyre was concerned, they were on her side of the wall, and this man’s magic was depleted enough that she was fairly certain he would not try to harm her. As soon as she’d made sure he lived through the rest of the night, strong enough to go back where he came from, she would be on her way. If, of course, she could find her way back.

His name was inconsequential. But, for some reason, hidden in a place so deep inside of her she hadn’t realised it existed before, Feyre wanted to know.

“Just…tell me.” Not a demand—not anymore.

Something changed in his eyes—a small shimmer, as though that fog of pain and hopelessness began to lift at her request.

“Rhysand,” he said, something hoarse creeping into his tone. “You…you can call me Rhys.”

“Rhys,” she mused, trying out the name on her tongue. She’d never heard it before, and she found she quite liked the way it sounded. “My name is Feyre.”

He hummed. “Feyre.”

She shivered, and this time, it had nothing to do with her fear.

“Thank you,” Rhys spoke again. He cleared his throat before he added, “For saving me.”

Feyre almost snorted. “I did nothing but lift you off the ground.”

“If it wasn’t for you, I’m not sure I would’ve pulled myself up again.”

A cold pit formed in her stomach at that, as if her own body dreaded the idea. “What…” she started again, fumbling through her response. “What happened? Across the Wall?”

Darkness swept over his face again, his tension rolling off of him in waves. “We’ve been deceived. All of us, every last one…” he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “There was a bargain, and I thought…” he continued, more to himself now than her, “I thought we’d be saved—I thought someone would come, but no one ever did. Forty-nine years…” Rhys whispered, his face wrenched in ache.

Quiet fell, his straining breath the only sound filling the midnight air. Feyre hesitated—what could she say when she understood so little?

But she told him, “You’re free now, though, aren’t you?” She tried to offer an encouraging smile. “You can go back home.”

His throat bobbed. “I’m afraid going home isn’t an option anymore.”

Feyre shuddered a breath.

They were both alone, it seemed.

“I…” she started. “I’m sorry.”

His laugh was a pained sound. “Don’t be. This—all of it—is my fault.”

Feyre considered. “You said you escaped, didn’t you?”

He nodded.

“Well,” she said. “I don’t think you’d have survived if you were truly to blame.”

Rhysand stilled.

“I think that maybe, you have a role to play. That you’re here—that you’re still alive—to fulfil it.”

For a moment, there was only silence.

He looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time—as if she hadn’t just pulled him from his knees, hadn’t seen the true darkness within him and chosen to stay.

And he kept on looking, words seemingly beyond him, his violet gaze fixed on her and taking her all in.

So Feyre asked, “Are you able to get us out of here?”

Rhys blinked slowly. “What do you mean?”

“My cottage,” Feyre explained. “Is your magic able to take us there?”

He mulled over her words for a moment before nodding. “If you describe it to me, I’ll find a way.”

“Good.” Feyre rose to her feet and reached out a hand. “Let’s go home.”

#just a drabble this fine evening #feysand au #feysand fic #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction #feysand #pro feysand #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #feyre acotar #rhysand #rhysand acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing

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