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piratec0ve · 1 year ago

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(His Poison Lips) With The Metal Grip

The title makes it sound way angstier than it actually is, I promise this is almost pure fluff I just suck at coming up with titles. And I was listening to music and those lyrics just kinda made me think of the bit with the hook, and idk titles are hard man.

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: After losing power in the middle of your shift, you find yourself fleeing for your life as Foxy pursues you through the halls. But perhaps there's more to this encounter than you first realized.

Story under the cut! Also on AO3!

The posters on the walls were an incomprehensible blur as you raced through the halls, skidding on the checkered floor and nearly crashing into a wall as you slid down a corner.

You wanted to pause and catch your breath, but the faint click-clack of nails skittering not far behind had a thrill of fear skittering along your spine. Whimpering, you scrambled down the hall, turned around and unsure where you were going, just desperate to get away.

Usually when the power ran out in the middle of your shift, it was Freddy you had to worry about, the glowing eyes in the dim corridor to the side of your office eerie and haunting. You weren’t sure why tonight was different – but instead of the uncanny melody of Freddy’s familiar jingle, you heard running footsteps pattering down your hallway. Uneasy about the change, you stood from your office chair and faced the door the sound was coming from, heart racing and flashlight gripped in clammy hands.

Foxy appeared in the doorway with a screech and you yelped in alarm. You’d fumbled and almost dropped the flashlight in your panic when he lunged at you, but you just barely managed to shine the light in his eye sockets. The animatronic stumbled and seemed disoriented, joints whirring as it missed its lunge and landed a few steps short of you.

Panicked, unsure how much time that had bought you, you’d scrambled out the opposite door at your back and took off down the hallway. If you could just evade Foxy until 6 a.m., his free-roaming protocols would end and you just might survive the night.

Hearing his pattering steps rapidly gaining on you, the chances of that were looking slimmer by the second.

You skidded around another corner and froze.

A dead end.

Fuck!!

You whirled around and almost sobbed when you saw Foxy’s one glowing eye at the end of the hall, staring you down. The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, you panting and Foxy unnervingly silent. He glanced slowly down at the flashlight gripped in your trembling hand, then back to you.

Shivering with nerves, you kept eye contact with him as you slowly raised the flashlight.

Your movement seemed to shatter the spell of stillness that had come over him, and he sprinted down the hallway. You were used to seeing the action on your cameras, but it was so much more harrowing when there was no door to safely hide behind.

Before you could manage to flick the button on your flashlight, Foxy was on you, batting it out of your hand harshly with his hook. You heard the plastic hit the floor and slide across the linoleum, vanishing into the dark of the hallway as the pirate loomed over you. Your stomach twisted like it was full of writhing snakes as you met his eye, his frame towering over you easily.

You saw the flash of his hook coming at you and screamed, stumbling back a step and tripping over your own feet in your panic. You scrambled away on your hands and knees, elbows banging painfully against the hard linoleum floor, but you didn’t get far before Foxy was on you.

His 6’2” frame caged you in, legs locked over your hips and arms on either side of your torso. His gaping maw was right in front of your face, giving you a horrific close up of his ragged fur and the jagged teeth in his mouth. Choking out a sob, you tried to turn away but the cool metal of his hook caught under your chin, freezing you in place.

You saw his head leaning in, coming closer to your face. Unable to turn away with his hook holding you in place, you squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to watch your impending doom come closer.

“Yer not s’posed to be here~” the gruff, pirate-accented voice of the fox crooned in a menacing sing-song right by your ear. The curved top of his hook pressed against your throat, cutting off your air and forcing you back until you collapsed underneath him. Breath hitching on another sob, you felt a few tears squeeze out from beneath your shut lids, trickling down your temples into your hair. Still, the pressure of the hook didn’t abate, and you were struggling to gasp in breaths now.

“Please—” you wheezed desperately. Forcing your eyes open, the figure hovering over you was a blur through the hazy tears clouding your vision. “Foxy please, please d-don’t—” You weren’t sure if begging would have any effect on the animatronic, but you were officially out of options.

Slowly, Foxy’s head tilted to one side as he stared down at you. The gesture brought to mind a puppy, and would almost be endearing if he weren’t pinning you to the floor, choking off your air supply. You slowly blinked the tears from your eyes as you and Foxy stared at each other, you struggling to draw in ragged gasps and shivering beneath him, and Foxy just.

Looking. Watching you.

You had no idea what was going on in his processors, no idea if he was drawing this out just to torture you or if he was genuinely hesitating to hurt you.

“Please,” you whispered again, voice cracking. His ears twitched slightly but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge you.

Suddenly, you felt furry fingers sliding through your hair, sharp claws scraping over your scalp and making you gasp, before that hand came down to rest at the back of your neck, pulling your head up slightly, forcing you to arch up off the floor towards him. At the same time, Foxy’s body bore down on yours, rough raggedy fur pressing against your arms where your uniform shirt’s short sleeve left the skin exposed. The weight of his endoskeleton did you no favors as you struggled to breathe, and you thought he’d decided to finish you off after all.

Hiccupping out a weak sob, your eyes shot back to his one visible eye, wide and unsure. Foxy leaned in again and you winced, waiting for the agony of his hook slicing you open, the sharp pain of his teeth crushing your delicate bones. The lack of oxygen was making you dizzy, spots dancing across your vision and making you woozy.

It made you wonder if you were hallucinating when the first touch of his muzzle came.

Rather than the pain you’d braced for, it was a gentle brush of his cold metal nose against your cheek, skimming along the side of your face. The fur on his cheek brushed against your face, rough but not too uncomfortable; you shivered at the cold as his nose touched just under your ear.

He was……snuffling? Impossible, since he didn’t breathe, but that’s what it sounded like. Like he was sniffing you, taking in your scent and puffing softly.

You didn’t understand, and you were worrying that you were going to pass out when Foxy abruptly jerked back, hook leaving your throat and dropping the hand that had been supporting the back of your neck. Your head cracked against the floor as you gasped for air, half-sitting up as Foxy sat back on his haunches, glowing yellow eye never leaving you.

As you slowly caught your breath, you carefully eased away from him until your back hit the wall. You wondered what had stopped him, but the answer came in the beeping of your watch.

Salvation.

You glanced at your watch to confirm – it was 6 a.m.

Your shift was over. Somehow, miraculously, you were alive.

Slowly, you looked up at Foxy again. In the moments you’d been preoccupied, he’d gotten to his feet and was standing at the end of the hall, about to disappear around the corner. You watched him go, wondering what the hell all that had been about as your heart finally began to slow down and you caught your breath.

The lights in the hall flickered on overhead as the building came back online after losing power, and you caught sight of where your flashlight had rolled to. Shakily, you grabbed it and clambered slowly to your feet, not entirely trusting your legs to hold your weight after everything that had just happened. You carefully made your way through the halls to collect your belongings from your office, dazed and uneasy.

It was 6 a.m., so in theory you were safe, but after the night you’d had the silence of the building wasn’t very comforting. The sooner you could get out of here and be around people, the sooner you’d stop feeling like you were trapped in a dream.

As you picked your bag up from the floor where it sat against your desk, you noticed something glinting on the floor, standing out against the dirty carpet of the office.

A single silver hoop earring.

Didn’t Foxy wear silver hoops in his ears? You kept your distance from the animatronics as much as you could, but you felt sure you’d seen silver glinting in his ears through the cameras once or twice when he started to peek his head out of Pirate Cove’s curtains.

Slowly, unsure why you were doing so but unable to help yourself, you closed your fingers around the earring. The cool metal against your palm reminded you of his hook bearing down on your throat, and you shuddered, snatching your bag and shooting to your feet.

You made your way quickly out of the building, barely acknowledging the incoming day shift workers.

The silver earring tucked in your pocket seemed to carry extra weight as you made your way home, never allowing you to forget your encounter.

~**~**~**~

As always, you were back the next night. You swore to yourself that this time you’d be more careful about your power usage, not wanting another incident.

Still, you couldn’t help quickly checking all the cameras first thing, checking where everyone was. The band was still on stage – not roaming around just yet. You breathed a silent sigh of relief.

You apprehensively clicked over to the camera that would show you Pirate Cove. Chills raced up your spine when you saw the curtains already open, Foxy absent from the stage.

Heart racing, you skipped to your hallway’s camera frantically muttering, “No no no, not again….come on, please,” but you barely got a glimpse of Foxy sprinting down the hall before he was at your door with that ear-piercing cry.

Yelping, you spun to face him so quickly your chair almost tipped over. Barely righting yourself before you got dumped on the floor again, you stared at Foxy with wide eyes.

His tall frame took up the entire doorway, furred fingers clutching the wall of the doorframe on one side, hook biting into the wall and tearing through the paint, leaving a gouge as he stood there. He stared at you, and even though his expression was fixed in place, you swear there was a deeper intensity in that glowing yellow eye as it fixated on you. His entire body leaned forward like he was caught mid-lunge, straining towards you.

You weren’t sure what was stopping him from completing that lunge, and like a bird caught in the gaze of a rattlesnake you found yourself unable to move as you and Foxy stared at each other, spellbound.

Slowly, his head tilted to one side again as he watched you, unblinking.

Tension was thick in the air as you waited to see what he’d do, his presence bringing back memories of last night and even without his hook restricting your airways you found yourself struggling to draw breath.

Jerkily, like he was fighting against his programming, he suddenly took a single step into the room, towards you.

Without thinking you flinched backwards, the wheels on your chair sliding across the carpet until the back slammed against your desk.

In the time it took you to blink, Foxy had closed the distance, his arms shooting to land on the desk on either side of you with a heavy-sounding clunk, once again caging you in. You stared up at him with wide eyes, nearly hyperventilating as he hovered above you, staring down at you with an intensity that made you tremble.

You could scarcely believe your eyes when Foxy slowly – jerkily and unevenly like each movement was a battle – sank to his knees in front of you. Given how big he was, it didn’t do much to lessen his height. But now instead of hovering above you, his snout was about level with your face, barely inches away. You could see the individual coarse hairs on the fur of his face, the thin scratches on the metal of his nose. You could see the slight variations of the lights in his eyes, lines of slightly darker gold in the gleaming yellow.

You were so caught up in staring at Foxy, you didn’t notice his paw coming up from where he’d planted it on the desk. You sucked in a breath, startled, when his claw slid through your hair, but he was careful. Gentle, tender almost, as he brushed the strands back, away from your ear.

You felt heat sear your cheeks as you realized what he was seeing.

His silver hoop earring, dangling from your ear. You cringed and looked away from his hypnotic gaze, pressing your lips together in embarrassment. Foxy’s hook came up under your ear, in a barely-there caress that caused goosebumps to prickle along your skin, gently touching the earring where it hooked into your ear.

thump, thump, thump, thump

Puzzled, you glanced at Foxy through your lashes despite your embarrassment, wondering what that sound was. Faint movement behind the pirate clued you in.

Was…..was his tail wagging?

No matter how nervous you felt with him so close, or how badly he’d scared you last night, you couldn’t help finding that adorable.

Nervous, but not as terrified now, you took a deep breath and straightened your spine before meeting his gaze head-on again. You lightly touched your ear, just above where his hook still hovered. “Do you want this back?” you asked him, voice coming out slightly hoarse. You chalked that up to anxiousness at his proximity, trying not to think too hard about your rapidly fluttering heart.

Foxy just stared at you, that quiet thump of his tail continuing. You felt your lips twitch in a hint of a smile and bit down on your lower lip, trying to contain it. Foxy’s head tilted the other way, reminding you again of a curious puppy, and you couldn’t help being endeared by the action.

Suddenly, Foxy leaned in and pressed his snout against you, cold nose nudging against your jaw and you shivered as he traced his way down. Slowly, carefully that muzzle went from your jaw down the column of your throat, pausing under your chin where his hook had pressed in.

His ears drooped slightly, the thump of his tail going still, as he took in the bruising he’d left on your skin. Facial expression or no, he looked positively dejected, clearly guilty about hurting you. It made your heart melt, wanting to soothe him; without thinking you reached out, resting your hands on either side of his head. Gently, you pulled him back up until he was looking at you again, though he seemed reluctant now to meet your gaze.

You ducked down and met his eye, a faint smile tugging your lips. “It’s okay, Foxy, I’m not mad at you,” you assured him. That bright yellow eye flitted back up to yours, ears pricking towards you, and your smile widened a bit. “That’s right,” you cooed, “no need to feel bad. It’s okay.” You emphasized the assurance with a couple of pets along his cheek, sliding your fingers through his fur.

The arrhythmic thumping of his tail started up again, and you couldn’t help laughing a bit as he leaned in and pressed his torso lightly against yours, rickety frame leaning into you and resting his muzzle on your shoulder. Without thinking about it, one of your hands came up behind his head and sank into his fur, lightly scratching behind his ears.

His tail began to wag faster, and he pressed harder into you, making you chuckle. So, he likes skritches. Good to know.

Charmed, you pulled back, sliding one hand down to his chest and lightly pushing. He was heavy, you had no chance of making him move on your own, but as soon as you pushed he sat back and looked at your face, tilting his head.

“I have to keep an eye on the rest of the building,” you told him. His ears drooped, head dipping slightly, and you would almost say he was pouting. Suppressing another smile, you stroked your fingers through the fur on the one of his cheeks again, giving a light skritch, and he pressed hard into the touch as he looked at you. Laughing, you dropped both hands. “Really, Foxy, I have to work,” you insisted, carefully sliding to the side so you could twist your chair around to face your desk. “But,” you added as he drooped again, “you can stay and keep me company tonight. If—if you want to, that is.” You faltered a bit on that last sentence, suddenly remembering this was an animatronic and feeling a bit silly.

But he perked right back up as soon as you said it, and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret or recant the offer.

Foxy made himself right at home in your space, staying knelt on the floor and dropping his head onto your lap. As you worked through the night, flipping cameras and closing the doors as needed, you would occasionally stroke the fur on top of his head or give light skritches behind his ears, which always made his tail swish wildly and press harder against you, like he couldn’t get close enough.

You found yourself smiling more than usual during your shifts, the company making the time pass easier, and before you knew it 6 a.m. was approaching.

Foxy was reluctant to part from you, that was obvious as he jerkily rose to his feet. Tentatively, he lifted his paw and lightly set it on top of your head, stroking in much the same manner you’d gently pet his fur over the course of the night. It made you feel warm all over, your cheeks flushing under his steady regard.

Clearing your throat, you reached up to your ear and pulled off the earring, holding it out in your palm and offering it back to him silently.

Foxy stared at the earring. Then at your face. His yellow eye flickered back and forth a few time before he dropped his paw from your head to take your hand and curl your fingers closed over your earring, giving a light squeeze before he let go and turned for the door right as your watch beeped, marking 6 a.m. and the end of another shift.

You stared at the doorway for a long minute, face red and wondering if it had all been a fever dream. Then you looked down at your hand, uncurling your fingers and studying the earring glinting in your palm. Pursing your lips, you put it back in your ear and stretched, groaning as your spine crackled and popped. Sitting in one position all night hadn’t done any favors for your back, but Foxy had seemed so content, you couldn’t bring yourself to make him move.

Maybe he’d come to visit you for your next shift again. Touching the silver at your ear with a faint smile, you found yourself really hoping you would.

Yes, it was strange, but Foxy seemed to just. Want affection, and it was cute. Sweet, even, and you didn’t mind his presence now that he was no longer chasing and scaring you. Shaking your head at yourself with a wry smile, you grabbed your bag and made your way out of the building. As you passed through the main area you couldn’t help glancing towards Pirate Cove – and saw a single yellow eye peeking at you through a crack in the curtains.

Breaking into a grin you just couldn’t help, you offered a wave before making your way out the main entrance, a slight bounce in your step.

Foxy didn’t need to worry. You’d be back before long.

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kissofmourningdeath · 8 months ago

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𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Welcome to the internet

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

[About Me]

Idk I'll write if you send me requests. I like marvel, books and sour apple flavored candy.

Spam likes and roblogs are encouraged! *but i like comments the most*

My Main focuses|The Avengers, Poppy Playtime|

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

ꅏꃅꍏ꓄ ꀤ'��꒒ ꀸꂦ

NSFW/SFW Angst Fluff Smut Neutral Platonic Headcanons Preferences Oneshots Blurbs Series & Fanfics LBGTQIA+ asks

𝘎𝘈𝘔𝘌𝘚

𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀𝙎

Marvel, Harry Potter |+Fantastic Beasts|, Beetlejuice |Musical, Show & Movie|, House of Wax, Texas Chainsaw Massacre|Bubba & Thomas|, Friday the 13th, The lost Boys, Scream, The Adams Family, Alice in Wonderland, Disney Villains, Jurassic Park/World, Tremors, Clue, Murder on the Orient Express, Spiderman into the Spiderverse, Joker

𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙒𝙎

Sherlock, Supernatural, Doctor Who, Psych, South Park, Avatar, Batman tas

Requests?|OPEN|

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thatweirdbitchjax · 2 months ago

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Can I request a child reader with (whatever slasher you want)?

Muti slasher x child reader who has metal problems that hasn't been diagnosed with (whatever one you feel comfortable writing)

So, I'm gonna write for depression and or anxiety as I have both. I have no clue if these were what you meant, but here you go! Also, I apologize if I offend anyone, I am solely going off of my experience with them and what I do with mine. Sorry it started getting short at the end, I started running out of ideas :(.

Characters: o.driftwood, b.sawyer, b.firefly, capt.spaulding

Warnings: depression, anxiety, mental health issues

There are more than likely things that I forgot to mention in the warnings, so proceed with caution

Mental Child

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba picked up on how sad you had been

But it wasn't just sadness, he could see it in your eyes, it was something else

At first he just thought that someone had dropped by the gas station while you were there helping Drayton and said something mean about you, so he tried sitting with you

He slowly recognized that, that wasn't helping and quickly clocked when you started distancing yourself

Staying in your room more often then not, your eyes constantly being swollen, the fact that he couldn't bring a smile to your face like he used to

He began to worry, heavily

He tried to get Drayton to take you somewhere to get you fixed, but Drayton seen no issue with how you were acting

Eventually tho, Drayton breaks after even Nubbins began worrying about you

Nubbins noticed how little you smiled, how you seemed to look a little more dead everytime he saw you, and how little you were eating

Anyways, at this point, everyone is worrying about you

The breaking point is when Bubba walks up to your room to find you in the middle of an anxiety attack

He doesn't know that's what this is tho, so he picks you up and rushes you down stairs

Drayton takes you to the hospital and blah blah blah

Captain Spaulding

Baby was the first to notice how off you were acting

No longer willing to scalp people with her, let her do your hair, let her paint your nails or anything

She recognized that you were distancing yourself and told Mama, and then, somehow, word got out to Spaulding

He immediately came and picked you up and took you to live with him for a while

To say he was worried was an understatement

You weren't eating, you were barely sleeping, and he could hear your anxiety attacks

He couldn't do anything about it tho, cause he didn't know what to do

He noticed how slouchy you were and eventually asked you what was going on, telling you that he was beginning to get worried

If you deside to open up, he tries to find you a place to get you help after a while

At first he was like, "Oh, everyone gets a little depressed now and then," but then he started getting worried when you weren't seeming to get better

Otis Driftwood

You think this mf cares?

He tells you to suck it up

He will get kinda worried when you start violently shaking and start screaming about how you can't breathe

Only then does he try to do anything to help you tho

Baby Firefly

She cares! She really does, she just doesn't understand why you can't breathe

She tries getting you water and holding you

She doesn't really know anything about Anxiety, so Mama was the one to make the assumption that that was what you had

She tried to make herself a bit smarter on the subject so she can help her baby

@puppet200 @purpleeggyboi @th3-r4t-48 @zeroisreallygood @im-a-simp898 @artsycrow46 @evry1h8s-me @aflairforthemelodramaticc @caretaleandotherstuff

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lovesick-feelings · 2 years ago

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can you pls write hcs for yan withered foxy? istg hes so underrated;-;;

Your right dear reader! It's strange how unpopular Withered Foxy is compared to his variants. Well, that is if you remove all the fan-made comics with Withered Foxy as a protagonist (っ´ω｀c) Either way, I think it's because a ton of people see the original characters to be the same as the withered but broken and traumatized ⊙︿⊙ I personally see them as different entities tho. Anyways thank you for requesting lovely reader!! \(♡´౪<♡)/

❤ Years of loneliness and neglect have left Withered Foxy in total disarray. He can’t remember the last time he left the dark, dusty service room. He could always roam around, but what’s the point when there is nothing out there for him? Normally, he’d recline and reminisce about his short time on stage, but lately, it's been harder with how restless he has grown. That is until he hears two employees talking beyond the door. Something about a new guard being hired?

❤ Like every other Foxy, he appears reserved. Your first couple of nights will be him stalking you from the shadows of the hall. As he observes, he likes to fill in the gaps about what you could be like. You smile at a drawing a kid has made of him. Do you have a soft spot for children? Or maybe you're a fan of his? Either way, the more he watches it fills his head with delusions. Ones where maybe… you were meant to be his.

❤ Only when given an opportunity will Withered Foxy start talking to you. He’ll inquire about you; ask you who you are, why you chose this job, and such. Oh, how sweet you are to him. So patient even though you were alarmed by his presence. You’re so amusing to him; perhaps he should look after you more. After all, there are things worse than him in this pizzeria. He’ll make it his duty to visit you every single night.

This man has two sides to him:

❤ Very weary. He doesn't feel the motivation to do anything besides seeing you. He’ll shuffle his way to your office and talk about anything on his mind. Even if you don’t talk back, the thought of you listening to his ramblings about the good ol’ days comforts him greatly. If you're interested, he’ll even recite his classic pirate stories. He's very hesitant when he realises he's talked for too long, regardless of how much you assure him that you enjoy listening to him. He’s mindful of his off-putting appearance, so unless given permission, he won't come any closer. To show him you are not afraid, you can reach out to him. Beware as this can unlock some unwanted clinginess.

❤ The other is frantic. Impulse drives him to become more animalistic. When the only thing pledging his mind is you, what else do you expect from him? Instead of his casual greeting, he hides in the dark, ranting about you belonging to him only. Before you can process, he's already launched himself onto you. He grips you with every ounce of strength to make sure you don't leave him again. He holds you tightly until you bruise, and if that doesn't stop you from struggling, he’ll mark you instead. The last thing on his mind is the agony you feel. Only to be with you, no matter the cost. What's worse is the way he “compliments'' and patronizes your helplessness. He goes on about how beautiful the color red is on you. How, if this were anyone else, you would have been killed in seconds. Of course, he could never because he loves you~. The Flashlight is your only hope of getting you out of this madness.

❤ Once he resets, it takes a second for panic to set in. The poor fox does anything he can to make up for whatever he’s done. He doesn't know what he's supposed to bring, so he's breaking the first aid cabinet and rushing everything he finds to you. With all the overwhelming emotions you give him, he can’t control his mood shifts. He doesn’t want to wound you; yet, he doesn't want to leave your side either.

“You know yur ol’ Foxy adore ye too much to hurt his treasure~” 🥰

“This is your fifth time biting me” 😐

❤ Withered foxy is both possessive and jealous. The mere thought of you seeing someone else sends him into panic mode. Anyone he deems to be getting too close he’ll maul into pieces. Even his withered friends are not safe from his scowls whenever they get too buddy-buddy. He wasn't the first animatronic to greet you, but you gave him your heart when you welcomed him with that beautiful smile of yours. To him, that’s the equivalent of marriage.

❤ The only other animatronics he trusts to leave you with is Balloon Boy and JJ. Withered Foxy resents the Toys with a passion. Despite this, he still has a soft spot for BB, as he cannot bring himself to hate children, and they make a good team. Same for JJ except he empathizes with her being left behind. They sometimes follow Withered Foxy whether he wants them to or not. On rare occasions, he leaves BB or JJ in charge of watching you when he’s away. If you're good with children you could use this opportunity to your advantage.

❤ His paranoia always gets the best of him. He’s the type to have a dream about you cheating on him and get angry at you for it. Heaven forbid he finds someone showing any type of romantic gesture too. He will gut them until they are nothing but mush in front of you. He won’t beg or talk you into staying. He’s dragging you into the parts and service to trap you in a suit. If he doesn't, regardless, you’ll still be stuck in the parts and service room. Resisting or begging won’t help much with him thinking you don't know any better. Maybe you would've been better off being killed in a suit.

“If there be one thing a pirate never shares between his crew it be his treasure! And you, me jewel, shall be with me forever~ ”

#yandere withered foxy #withered foxy #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #yandere fnaf #fnaf yandere #fnaf human #fnaf 2 #fnaf x reader #fnaf 2 x reader #yandere withered foxy x reader #withered foxy x reader #fnaf 2 withered foxy #yandere foxy x reader #foxy x reader #yandere withered foxy x yn

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kuklovod666 · 2 years ago

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#foxy the pirate #foxy x mangle #rockstar foxy #foxy x reader

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obscureblorbofics · 1 year ago

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Dracula and Chill (NSFW)

Foxy Coltrane x gn!reader

18+ only! Minors be gone!

Summary: reader goes on vacation to Mexico with friends and meets Foxy in a bar.

Warnings: smut, mention of Foxy being a serial killer (does it really need to be said? If you've watched the movie you already know), alcohol

Length: 3.5k words

(For the purpose of the fic, reader is American and AFAB)

-----

Your phone rings.

"Any chance you'd want to go on vacation with us next month?"

Alexis had been your friend all throughout high school and was trying to set something up with a few friends so you could catch up without the pressures of work or responsibilities. You think for a second before responding back.

"I have some vacation time saved up. Let me know when and where"

"Durango, Mexico. Not the most interesting place but it's cheap and it'll definitely be a nice change of pace for a week. Thinking February 16th to the 23rd. Brooke already said that week is free for her and I'm still waiting for a response from Ryan"

You check your calendar, seeing nothing pre-planned to stop you. You put the call on hold and call your boss to ask about getting that week off. He makes note of it and tells you to have fun.

"Yea I'm free that week. Need to get my passport updated before then but we should be good"

The plane lands, jolting you awake. The drunk bachelorette party a few rows in front of you woops and hollers rowdily. You look to Alexis, who had mentioned a headache a mere 20 minutes into the flight. You offer a sympathetic glance, to which she responds with a smile. You grab both of your carry ons out of the overhead bin, handing her hers and checking on the row behind you that contained the rest of the group. The four of you exit the plane and go through the usual post-flight bathroom breaks.

After everyone is out and accounted for, the group heads to the rental desk and goes through the process of renting a car. After maybe about twenty minutes of driving, you come upon the shabby little hotel Brooke's uncle owned and had left to her cousin upon his death.

Once checked in and settled in your rooms, the four of you leave to get dinner. You find a little restaurant nearby and order food.

Dinner conversation is mostly tame and what you'd expect from the group. Alexis commented on how Brooke's cousin flirted with her when offering the group a discounted rate. Ryan tells the group about scoring his dream job that he'd be starting in April. Brooke showing everyone pictures of her son and talking about how motherhood has treated her.

The next morning the group of you set out sightseeing in the city nearby rather than stay in the small town for the whole time. Once you head back, Ryan has an idea.

"I saw a bar not far from the hotel. We should check it out. Might be interesting" he shrugs and you all agree it's worth trying.

The four of you make your way to the bar and order your drinks. They're out fairly quickly, and you get to exploring the place. There's a few rowdy men throwing knives at a particle board target, some women who seem to be there mainly for the purpose of getting laid and not much else, a few isolated groups of patrons, and the trio at the other end of the bar. They're all roughly middle aged, but the blonde woman with them has the energy level of a teenager. She seems to be the life of the party in the bar.

The two men with her, however.. The older one seemed irritated at the woman's antics, clearly trying to pick up a woman at a table nearby. The other one was attractive to say the least. Tall and lanky, with longish honey brown hair and blue eyes. You'd always had a thing for older men. And he was looking straight at you. His face broke into a smug grin and he winked before bringing his attention back to the other people he was there with.

You take this as a sign to get back to your friends as well. You tune back into the conversation, noting it to be about everyone's college experiences. Not much for you to add. You finish your drink up only to see another slide in front of you once you put the empty one down. You arch an eyebrow in a silent request for explanation. The bartender shrugs and points to the end of the bar. At the man you were just observing. He gestures for you to come over.

You let your friends know you're going to look around some more and 'socialize with the locals' as you so put it, before slipping away and joining the stranger.

As soon as you approach him, he gives you the same shit eating grin as earlier. "Hey sweetheart, come here often?"

You roll your eyes at the cheesy overused line. "First time. Vacation with friends. What about you?"

He shrugs. "Been living in the area 'bout 3 months. Not much to do 'round here" He pauses for a moment. "Oh where are my manners? I'm Foxy."

You offer a weak smile at his introduction. "I'm (Y/N)."

He smirks. "Lovely name for a lovely person. Mind sticking around a while?"

"I don't see why not."

He offers you a chair and you sit down.

The two of you talk for what seems like hours before Brooke approaches you. "We're heading back to the hotel. Here's the spare key to the room whenever you're ready." She drops the key in your hand and you stash it away in your pocket.

Foxy takes a look behind him real quick. You notice the other people he was there with are gone. "Well. It looks like Otis and Baby ditched. How bout you join me and we ditch too?"

You agree and he pays off your tab for you, throwing an arm around you and guiding you out of the bar. After walking down the street for maybe ten minutes you come upon a modest building. The other man from earlier, Otis you presume, is sitting in a lawn chair with a beer. He notices the two of you and waves at Foxy but says nothing.

Foxy holds the door open for you, and swats at your behind as you enter.

You take a look around, checking out your surroundings as you head for the couch. Nothing too out of the ordinary besides the large number of weapons either openly out on display or poorly hidden. To be fair you did hear about some gang activity nearby so it couldn't hurt to be cautious if you live in the area.

He sits down next to you. The two of you talk about backgrounds for a while. You find out the people he was with earlier were his siblings. Otis you had seen on the way in and Baby was out doing who knows what. He mentions being really into classic movies and having amassed a fairly large collection of them. You offer to watch one with him if he didn't mind and he leads you to the bedroom.

The inside of Foxy's bedroom is exactly what you'd expect. Old movie posters on the wall and a large hunting knife on the nightstand accompanied by several empty beer bottles. You sit down on the bed and he puts a VHS tape in the player before sliding into bed next to you. Once the movie starts you notice it's the original Dracula.

About twenty minutes into the movie Foxy wraps his arm around your shoulders and you instinctively lean into him. You don’t take your attention off the movie to look at him, but you hear a low chuckle beside you.

After another half hour or so a hand makes its way to your thigh. You ignore it at first, but then it slides higher and begins to squeeze, so you glance over at the man beside you. Same shit eating grin you’ve come to associate with him.

“Well don’t look at me, babydoll. Pay attention to the movie.”

You cautiously obey, not sure where this would go, but certainly not mad at the development. A minute or so of squeezing and rubbing your thigh later, he goes for your pants button. You turn back around to say something about it, but he quickly stops you, shushing you gently before replying in the same cocky tone that got you into this situation to begin with.

"I said focus on the movie. Don't mind me havin’ a feel."

The second he says that, you feel his hand slip into your underwear. He uses the arm still around you to move you into his lap. His fingers make their way down, checking for evidence that you’re enjoying this as much as he is. He drags his fingers through the wetness he found there, bringing them up to play with your clit. At first he was gentle, barely touching you. Ghosting over where you wanted him most and teasing you experimentally to see what made you gasp and squirm. He figured this out rather quickly, judging by the way you were panting and squirming and trying to close your legs around his hand.

You lay back into his chest and feel him hard and poking into your back. This somehow makes you even wetter. He gets you right to the edge but when you're about to cum, he backs off.

Foxy waits for you to cool down before he begins again, filling this time by placing soft kisses all over your neck. You moan and tilt your head to give him better access.

Once he deems it safe to continue without you finishing too soon, he moves a finger down to your entrance. It stays there for a moment, gathering you juices, before he easily slides it all the way in. You gasp and grab onto his thigh next to you. Your legs begin to shut again on their own accord, but he holds them open, making sure you can’t move away. He pumps it in and out experimentally, waiting until you calm down to add a second. His fingers curl up inside you, perfectly hitting your g-spot. When he figures out he found the right spot, he rubs it in soft circular motions. Your eyes flutter closed and he stops.

“Watch the movie. It’s almost over. Wouldn’t want you missin’ the ending, now would we?” Foxy flashes you a toothy grin and you try to focus on the screen.

He starts again, and you’re careful to keep your attention on the movie rather than Foxy. You only really have to hold out another ten minutes before the movie ends and the screen fades to black. As soon as the movie is over, he grabs your throat, squeezing just hard enough to be pleasurable.

He pulls his fingers out of you and cleans them off in his mouth.

“Damn, doll. You taste good. You should have a taste.” and with that, he kisses you. It’s sloppy and dirty, but still soft enough to be enjoyable. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and he’s right. It is good.

You get off his lap and stand up to take your clothes off. He watches closely as you expose more and more skin.

Foxy jumps up and joins you, quickly throwing his shirt off and unbuckling his belt. He rips his pants and underwear down his legs and pushes you down on the bed. His hand cracks down on your ass and your hips jolt forward, away from him. He cackles like a madman at your reaction and slaps the other side with just as much force. This time you’re expecting it, and it actually feels good. So naturally, you lean into his touch.

“Dirty little thing, aren’t ya?” You nod, rubbing your thighs together to try to get some friction. “Ya want some more?” You nod again. “Gonna have to ask me nicely.” You whimper out, trying to muster up a singular brain cell to give him a coherent response.

“P-please Foxy. Please give me more.” you stutter out shakily.

“Gladly.” He rapid fire gives you six more slaps before grabbing and squeezing your ass. It stings and you can feel the warmth radiating from your flesh, but you can also feel how soaking wet you are. So can he. You feel the head of his cock slipping through your wetness. You try to push back on it, desperately needing filled up. His grip on your hips stops you in your tracks.

“Patience, sweetheart. You’ll get it soon. I like to have a little fun first.” He takes the next few moments to slowly, torturously tease you with his cock before he finally lines up with your pussy and pushes inside. He lets out a deep pleasured groan directly into your ear. You moan at the feeling of finally being stretched open. It’s been a while, and Foxy is giving you exactly what you need.

“Damn, dollface. You feel so good. Might have to keep you around just for this.” He rolls his hips a few times experimentally, figuring out what you do and don’t like, and which spots to hit to make you writhe beneath him. Just like with his fingers, he finds it quickly and you moan, definitely louder than you should've considering there are other people in the house, but you’re too focused on the pleasure Foxy is giving you to think about anything else. He grabs your hip with one hand, and the other goes down to rub your clit. The room is full of the sounds of his hips slapping against your ass, your wetness squelching around his cock, and the combined noises from both of you and that ambiance is more arousing than you would’ve thought. After a few particularly hard thrusts and his hand that was previously on your hip making its way around your throat, you feel yourself begin to get close. The hand around your throat squeezes enough to make your vision start to blur and it intensifies everything you're feeling in a way you’ve never experienced before.

“Foxy, yes! Don’t stop!” You cry out, feeling your orgasm moments away.

“That’s it. Cum for me, sweetheart”

Your orgasm hits, and it’s blinding. You’re vaguely aware of Foxy groaning beside your ear and a warm feeling spreading inside you. He fucks you through your orgasm before pulling out and rolling to collapse beside you. You crawl back up into the bed and he follows you. Your head makes its way to his chest, sweaty bodies slightly sticking together in a way that would otherwise seem gross, but in your post-coital bliss is endearing. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall asleep in your comfy embrace.

The next morning, you wake up, naked, in an unfamiliar place, using someone’s stomach as a pillow. You look around and remember the events of last night. Finding someone at the bar. Going home with him. Watching Dracula. The sex.

You quickly get dressed and sneak out of the house, walking back to the hotel. You unlock the door to the room you’re sharing with your friends, and they're having breakfast. Brooke glances up to look at you, and laughs.

“Ooh the walk of shame. Assuming things went well with mystery man from the bar last night?”

You nod, looking anywhere but her. “I’m going to go shower.”

That night, the group decides to go back to the same bar, reasoning that they had decently good drinks and were reasonably close to the hotel, so they could get drunk without worrying about having a designated driver.

The group orders their drinks and finds a table. Not long after sitting down, Ryan elbows you in the ribs to get your attention.

“Hey (Y/N), isn’t that your guy from last night?”

You cautiously turn your head to look in the direction he’s gesturing to and see Foxy with his siblings that you briefly met yesterday. Otis and Baby, you think. But of course you weren’t focused on too much other than him.. And that damn movie he wouldn't let you look away from. You nod.

“You should go talk to him” Alexis encourages, quickly catching onto the gist of the conversation.

You shook your head. “Nah. I figured it was more of a one night stand than anything else.” The thought was tempting though. He was cute, great in bed, and from what you knew you got along well with him. But he lived here and you were just on vacation. You had to go back home in four days. Better not to get too attached to people you meet on vacation.

However, across the room, Foxy was debating the same thing. Hook ups were nice and all, but sometimes he got greedy, wanting more than the limited connection allowed by one night of sex. He had explained his dilemma to his siblings. Otis laughed, accusing him of going soft on them, then suggesting he just kidnap you. That wouldn’t work. They had just built a decent life where no one would be looking for them, it wouldn’t be good to ruin that because he wanted pussy.

Baby, however, was a little more sympathetic to his situation and had better advice than kidnapping. She suggested that he just talk to you. To lay the charm on thick the way he was known to. He thought about it for a moment, before concluding she wasn't wrong. It was at least worth a shot. So he got up and started heading for your table

The conversation had moved on from what you did last night to what your former high school classmates were up to now. Ryan’s eyes widened slightly, and you didn’t have time to ask why before a set of hands settled themselves on your shoulders.

“Damn, sweetheart. Didn’t even wake me up for a proper goodbye?”

You blushed. Apparently the decision of whether or not to talk to Foxy again had been made for you. Your friends immediately started paying attention to the two of you, deeming this much more entertaining than what they were previously talking about. You, however, didn’t really want to have this conversation with an audience. So you got up, telling Foxy you wanted to go somewhere more private to talk. He agreed, and led you to the bar’s patio area.

The two of you sit down at a table outside and discuss the things that happened last night. How you liked the movie. How you liked what happened during and after. Why you left without waking him. He found a piece of paper and scribbled his phone number down on it, hoping you’d at least stay in contact for the rest of your vacation. You shoved it in your pocket with the key for the hotel room, making a mental note to call him later. Then he drops the line you were hoping to hear, but unsure if you would. He wanted last night to happen again. So did you. So it did. You actually waited for him to wake up before leaving this time and were rewarded with some nice morning sex. That happened two more times before you had to leave.

Once back in the states, you had maintained loose contact with Foxy. Of course a good majority of your phone calls would end in phone sex, but getting to talk to him was always nice, long distance fees be damned. One night, you’re on the phone with him while you make dinner. The news is playing on the TV in the background, and you're only barely paying attention to it. But the one time you do look over to the TV, you drop the phone in shock. Three mugshots are displayed on the TV with the information that there’s been a search for them for several months. One of them being Foxy, and the other two being his siblings that you’ve come to be acquainted with during your visits to their house. You knew they seemed familiar for a reason. You scramble to pick up the phone and put it to your ear to catch Foxy asking if you’re still there and asking what happened.

“You’re.. You’re on TV” you manage to whisper out.

“Aw fuck, babydoll. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out” He then briefly explains what all happened and asks if you’re going to try to turn him in. Your mind however, is somewhere completely different.

“Wait.. your name is actually Winslow?”

“Yeah.. really doesn’t fit me too well, does it?”

“I absolutely get why you go by Foxy now.. No offense, but Winslow is an unmoanable name if I’ve ever heard one.” you chuckle, completely unfazed that you’re talking to a serial killer. To you he’s still Foxy, the guy you met in a bar in Mexico, and got a little too attached to.

“To answer your question, I’m not going to turn you in. This won’t change much. Besides, I always did have a thing for bad boys”

#winslow foxworth coltrane #foxy coltrane x reader #winslow foxworth coltrane x reader #3 from hell #foxy x reader #foxy coltrane smut

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wolveria · 2 years ago

Note

So, Foxy x reader idea

Foxy and the other animatronics get sort of remade into more humanoid looking animatronics, but they were only made like that because it's the future and everyone is horny asf so these are off brand animatronics.

As per usual the facility/building needs a security guard which just happens to be this one girl called reader. ;)

Reader watches cams but at some point the power goes out and foxy has a lust for blood so he goes on over to the security guard, but unexpectedly doesn't kill her but instead takes her to "the private cove" which is just a bunch of shmex toys and a large red bed.

The rest would be up to you ;)

Do not hold back.

Thank you~!

I'm liking it I'm liking it. Writing that down for sure, that is tasty. Thank you for the delicious ideas!

#fnaf #foxy x reader #ideas #anon

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g0dwat3rwritings · 1 year ago

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𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘! 𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫! 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐅𝐍𝐚𝐅 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟? 𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞! 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐍𝐚𝐅 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 "𝐍𝐨, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐍𝐚𝐅."

#springtrap x reader #moon x reader #sun x reader #freddy x reader #monty x reader #bonnie x reader #chica x reader #foxy x reader #roxy x reader #roxanne x reader #x reader #no ask #polls #poll #fnaf x reader #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf #five nights at freddy's x reader #five nights at freddy's

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joyfullyacat · 2 years ago

Text

Mistakes and Miscommunication

haha woops happy belated valentines day (this got really wrong and its now officially the longest oneshot i've ever done!) legally beta'd, i think the formatting is alright? anyway, lots of stuff explored so a touch experimental glitch and design i describe belongs to @sleepykas (ty for letting me write for him ;;;)

CW: mild violence, slightly suggestive notes, a touch of angst but it ends fluffy and stupid (silly references and jokes ahead) word count: 8.3k on this bad boy -

There’ll always be a part of you that is ready for danger, a sliver of haywire paranoia that never quite rests when you enter the field of law enforcement. That sliver will grow and hairline cracks will form at will at the slightest wrong interactions and it’s… Problematic.

But it keeps you safe. Somewhat.

The itchy feeling in the back of your head you’ve learned to ignore causes you to learn a lesson time and time again it feels like - that lesson being you should always trust your gut instinct when it tells you something is off about a situation. Even if the paranoia is bad - your gut proves to be good.

If you did listen to it, you’d probably be in far better shape than you were currently.

It was supposed to be a simple patrol, a call about “suspicious activity” which you get dime-a-dozen of day in and day out. Usually it’s a distinct bias against neighbors or particular groups of people, things that get settled with placating words and-or your thinning patience.

The setting sun meant you had to work fast and maybe that was where you began to slip up. Wanting to make it in time to clock out as you had been around the city and on your feet since before it even rose to greet the windows of your high rise apartment.

A show you had been watching recently was releasing its finale tonight - you had lots to look forward to! You were gonna order pizza and pig out, it was gonna be a good night.

However, the location given by the tip-off wasn’t the standard neighborhood or busy shopping district which meant you were in distinctly unfamiliar territory. Instead, you were at a relatively desolate port. An extensive strip of land that had towering stacks of cargo containers that seemed to form an endless maze in an array of colors and graffiti markings.

Not to mention warehouses.

You parked a small distance away from the buildings and crates, noting the overall lack of traffic over in this area - how quiet it seemed silent for the soft natural ambience of the ocean nearby. With the distant echoing hustle and bustle of the city, it’s not like anything would really be noticed going on here.

The lack of people busying about should have been your first clue that things were not quite what they seemed here but, then again, you weren’t wholly sure how this business worked in the first place.

Your shoes crunch against gravel before clicking against cement, you strain your ears to pick up on anything out of the ordinary.

The shadows casted by your surroundings are steadily growing and street lights are popping up, you fetch your flashlight from your belt and click it on, casually swinging it this way and that.

A developing sense of unease makes your stomach feel heavy, but you persist.

You shouldn’t be here for too long, there’s no reason to be here any longer than you need to be, yet there’s an invisible force that draws you to one of the warehouses.

Muffled voices steadily become audible, they’re rising at one another in a clear shouting match.

You stop at the wall, a small distance from the large overhead warehouse door that’s not fully closed and light peeps out from under it. This could either be some off-load workers getting riled up or it’s something far more nefarious going on.

Another moment is taken to scan the surroundings and your flashlight catches onto something shiny.

A very expensive looking car with silver accents and too dark windows peeks around the corner opposite from your own.

In another moment, in your peripheral, something gleams in the dying moments of sunlight in an elevated position. A keen whine forms in your ears as it feels like time slows in your fear.

Suddenly, you’re dropping to the ground and practically scuttle away, a bullet right where your head once was making a pretty, smoking hole with a startling clang as the metal is torn through like paper.

There’s a beat of silence, the arguing from inside coming to a halt.

Then the door starts to rise open and now you’re running to the crates, your car wouldn’t be safe, not with the sniper that’s thankfully a terrible shot and probably adjusting their sights with the early night darkness that’s settled.

With fumbling fingers in your adrenaline fueled fervor, you grasp at the radio clipped to your lapel, giving a hasty. “Send units, I’ve come across possible gang activity and have been, -” Shots ring out behind you and ding the crates that you round the corner of but you continue, in your pursuit of safety, you hear a confirmation buzz among the static of the radio.

You’re definitely outnumbered and now your only goal is to survive.

Maybe you should start to take a patrol partner no matter what, your usual wasn’t available - there was Glitch at the time but you were certain he hates you and you weren’t about to make a coworker suffer you.

Even if you think he looks quite nifty since his latest changes and would love to hear all about them.

That was a matter for another time however.

Distantly you hear shouts of finding “the rat” and getting “the boss” out, there’s sharp clanging of chains and echoing barks of dogs and you internally cringe. Hoping they wouldn’t sic those on you.

“Bring them alive! I wanna know what dingbat has the balls to come here!” A hoarse voice barks out and his presumed underlings don't even have to give a word of acknowledgement, just immediately acting on the order as steps sound across the pavement.

“This night is turning out terrible.” You breathe out as softly as you can, trying to steel your nerves as you brace for what is to possibly come. The descending night air is soothing as a gentle breeze ghosts the nape of your neck, carrying the smell of the waters near.

Briefly, you consider praying to whatever god is watching this sudden turn of action movie-esque events that you wouldn’t end up in those waters against your will.

The weight of the pistol is distinct in your hands as you ready it, pulling back the slide until the familiar click rings out like a church bell, ringing for, ideally, not you.

You keep light on your feet as you weave around the cargo stacks, letting the aggressive stomps of your pursuers act as a muffle for your noises but it’s not long until you turn the corner and ram yourself right into someone’s back.

A note for next time, check around corners before taking them in a situation such as this.

They’re not a friend but neither you nor him have an opportunity to act as deafening too close shots ring out. An itchy trigger finger finally given reason to engage.

Bang!

The body you’re pressed up to jerks against you.

Bang! Bang!

In those next moments, you’re ramming the goon forward, shoving them into your shooter. Fruitlessly trying not to think of the terrible moral implications of the deed or the fact that they’re so desperate to get to you - that they’d kill their own to do so.

The situation suddenly becomes all the more real as you’re shooting over the shoulder of the fallen and splattering the crates around you in red before there’s two heavy thuds of bodies hitting the ground together.

At least they weren’t alone? That… Doesn’t make it better.

There’s a tremble that’s developed in your hands but you’re unsure if it’s from adrenaline or from fear. Have you ever done this before? No, the bits of blood that coat your hand and run down your face feels foreign and disgusting.

Was this a you-or-them situation? You think so. Could you have simply disabled the shooter somehow? The two of them?

You don’t have much time to think that through as a flurry of racing feet begin to converge and get closer to your location, loud and steadfast, no doubt attracted to the rapidfire of shots and the only choice left is to run for it once again. Bob and weave through the environment, the location wasn’t that far from the station but traffic could hold support back from getting to you in a timely manner.

Granted, was anything timely when your life's on the line?

Distantly, you think you hear sirens. Maybe that’s just you being hopeful…

…Glitch was beside himself. Hands gripping tight on the wheel and making the leather creak as he sped along the road as legally as he could with his equally racing thoughts burning holes in his head in their loops. Every second felt like a minute and every minute felt like an hour and it all felt like you were rapidly running out of that very precious time.

You hadn’t updated the radio line since your initial call for help.

The shots over the receiver set his inner workings on a frenzy, a distinctive rush of electricity that no doubt made his face appear unbecoming if the looks his coworkers gave him while heading out were any indication.

But it didn’t matter - none of it would if he - if they couldn’t get to you in time.

It was him with five other officers, three cars total, hopefully it’d be enough but if he had any say in the matter - he’d have taken more.

There was so much he would take and do for you and your safety and…

“Hey… Big guy?” His accompanying partner pipes up, snapping Glitch from his thoughts. Johnson was one of few coworkers that wasn’t naturally intimidated by his mannerisms, a somewhat grounding presence when ambitions went above capabilities.

Except the animatronic wasn’t too sure if he could be leveled with at the moment. Just managing through his strain a deceptively polite hum of acknowledgement, head tilting towards the human in the passenger’s seat.

“...You’re bending the wheel.”

…

What? He’s what?

If he was capable of it, he would have started to break out in a cold sweat as yes, he was in fact contorting the steering wheel underneath his stress. The top half now held a noticeable curve inwards, towards himself that made his crushing grip clear.

Glitch made a vague sound, pretending to clear his throat as he relented his force almost entirely after that point. “I’m… Not quite sorry, but apologetic to worry you like that.”

All he gets in return is a disarming chuckle, “Not offended, if anything it’s cool, always wondered if those things could actually be damaged. They tend to survive wrecks outside of the air bags… Besides, I know why you’re worried. We’ll get to our fellow officer, it’s not much farther now.”

Not much farther now, that’s right.

It still feels like it’s been too long.

Did you even have any more minutes to spare?...

…You’re not sure how much time has passed, it all feels like too long yet not long enough for what you’re waiting for. You’ve downed more goons than you’ve been struck and you’ll count every single one of your blessings if any are left after this.

But those sirens are feasible now, your pursuers have caught wind of them too.

You’re tucked in the midst of crates, trying your best to take in desperate heaves of air as quietly as you can. You were doing so well at surviving that you were cursing at how you pigeon-holed yourself now.

It felt like a rookie’s mistake.

There’s the repetitive clicking of a lighter before a deep, raspy woman’s voice sounds, “The fuckin’ leak got help, cops are closing in - what do we do?” A moment of silence, the individual breathing in a cigarette presumably before coughing some.

Well at least she wasn’t very fussed in finding you it seemed, a good sign.

“Seems we may have to cut losses ‘ere, we’ve lost quite a few as is - impressive but annoying.” The voice is cool, collected. Honeyed even, though it holds a drawl as if he watched just a few too many pirate cartoons and movies. This voice had been tailing you casually for a bit now, ever since the initial run in you had with some of his fellow gang members and left them in a heap in each other’s arms against your own volition.

If him having a level head was supposed to be an intimidation tactic, well…

Consider yourself apprehensive, not a good sign. It seemed he always had a general idea where you were but didn’t want to clue the others in - maybe he liked the chase?

You didn’t like that thought remotely.

Distant shouts start up, orders being barked, there’s slams of car doors and people are clearly making their leave now. Your salvation must be real close, spotted on some not-so-distant horizon line.

“They’re calling a retreat, Tod.”

Todd?

You were being stalked by a guy named Todd?

“Mmm… So they are.” There’s a sigh that’s distinctly crackly, mechanical… This was an animatronic, “I’ll let y’go, I’ll be able to catch up - I wanna leave ‘em with a message.” His tone was firm, giving a resolute dark promise for your head to whoever they were prowling around with.

A choppy cackle breaks into a coughing fit, “Bring back a souvenir.” Another audible deep drag of a cigarette before pounding steps announced her leave.

A moment of silence.

A chuckle echoes out, warm and confident.“...Now s’just the two of us, lil’ pup.”

Oh that was a dubious nickname… You were unbelievably screwed if this Todd found you - but there was no moving from where you were, you couldn’t figure out how close the mafia member was.

The back-up was so close now, you could practically see the flashing lights bounce around and reflect from various metal surroundings.

Screeeeech!

As well as soon smell the burning rubber of tires from vehicles stopping too harshly along the cement, car doors opening and shots echoing out across the way. Distinctly, there’s a loud crash that reverberates through the ground, someone knocked a vehicle into something it seemed.

“Hands up! You’ve no way to go!” A voice you vaguely recognize bellows out the familiar command. Help was right there…

They’d probably be occupied with stragglers for a bit.

You’re much too occupied with figuring out a way to run to your safe haven that you don’t realize the wandering steps of your would-be hunter had tapered off into very careful tip toes. How unbelievably quiet it had gotten in your immediate vicinity, the noise outside of this personal bubble that was your potential dead-end being an easy distraction.

A distraction that would be your downfall.

Click.

…Safety was just turned off. You look down.

It wasn’t your own, even if you had a gun in your hands aimed at your only way out as means of protection.

So you look over and up, craning your head back.

The towering figure above you has a gun aimed at your forehead. No doubt, he’d be quicker on the draw as he didn’t exactly have vitals for you to maim like his far fleshier counterparts.

The animatronic’s grin is outright predatory as he looks down at you, “There you are…” He all but purrs out, golden fang glinting in the low light of your surroundings. Piercing orange eyes practically sparkle at his discovery of you.

It’s then you realize that this was a fox.

Who’s name was not Todd but in fact Tod.

A male-presenting fox animatronic. Named Tod.

How wonderful.

You’d laugh if you weren’t staring death in the face at this point in time.

“Wonder who tipped y’off our way, did y’never consider it being a trap? Your sorts never wander around these parts.” Tod speaks casually, almost flippantly as he leans forward, pressing the barrel of his pistol to your temple with a little pressing nudge that had your hands going clammy. “You’ve cost us so much, it almost seems fitting we should return the favor to those friends y’called.”

Buy time.

You had to buy time - more time. How much debt were you in right now?

“Is your name actually Tod?” You blurt out without thinking, looking up at him with a wide-eyed blink.

Tod looks just as perplexed as you feel, the hold on his weapon falling slack just a bit.

You could probably survive a shot to the jaw, right?

Belatedly, you recognize he has an eyepatch flipped-up at this moment, he really was a pirate wanna-be. “...I guess if the question is so burning…” He begins, unsure and still bewildered at your outburst, “It’s not Tod - I hold the name Foxy. We jus’ have aliases.”

“...Foxy the fox automaton.” You relay after a beat, helpless against the dopey grin that forms at the ridiculousness and very on-the-nose nature of his name.

This was even better than Tod and if you didn’t know any better, you’d outright giggle but you know just enough to just settle for your smile instead.

…Okay, a snort broke out. Ugly and undignified but could you be blamed?

Foxy just looks at you, positively floored at your sheer audacity… Or maybe it was your blatant stupidity - considering the current situation you were in with him. However you were frazzled, tired if you were honest. You were stained with blood that, while you sure wasn’t your own, couldn’t be too sure. You definitely had bruises if nothing else.

So you were going to find your entertainment where you could.

A few moments of silence pass.

Are those steps heading your way?

You’re not exactly sure what you or him are waiting for as the once tense air where your life was in peril subsides into something far more awkward.

It reminds you just a little too much of interactions you have with a certain other animatronic who works with you.

Finally, with an ear twitching in acknowledgement to outside noises, Foxy decides to cut through the silence with a sharp huff of amusement. “You’re something else y’know tha -” His words are suddenly cut off by a black blur moving past your hidey-hole and barreling into your captor. The gun held against you clatters to the ground, Foxy’s voice box breaks into something of an animalistic screech of static before an all out brawl starts between the two of them.

You stay right where you are. Getting in the middle of that is a good way to find yourself pummeled…

…Glitch found you.

He finally found you.

He found you facing down the muzzle of a gun with a deer in the headlights look that you shared with your potential killer. He was already high-strung before.

It was safe to say that he saw red then and it wasn’t just the fur of the animatronic that he tore away from the fox at the base, exposing the endoskeleton and wires alike without care.

When the squad arrived, the criminals were scattering, getting into cars and tailing it out of there or trying to get away on foot. More enforcements were called in, cars were already noted and license plates were spread, the city wouldn’t be quiet tonight and probably not for some nights after.

Especially with the amount of members they were able to apprehend. Many new database entries would be added. New mugshots to be made fun of. The precinct would finally have things to do after what seemed like too long of crickets.

That wasn’t even going over the amount of members you had single-handedly felled. Even if every body he came across filled him with trepidation - there was unbelievable relief when they were turned over and it wasn’t your face. There was a growing sense of pride too.

Who knows how many operations you had interrupted with your actions this night.

It did unmentionable things for him that he’d have to unpack later but for now, all there was to focus on was you and you alone.

He - … They… No. He was so close to losing you just then and he would have been just… Seconds off the mark. Just mere seconds, a blink of the eye really.

A moment of hesitation or if something else caught his attention, what could have happened to you?

…Very possibly, it’d be you in a bag with half a dozen others and that was a thought he couldn’t bear.

Even more shudder-inducing was the potential of you being captured and used.

All his worries, his frustrations - both with you and with himself, were unleashed in this one moment.

Metal groaned in protest as he forced limbs to snap and contort outside of their range, joints becoming useless at multiple points. Glitch was deaf to the cries of his fellow automaton - but he didn’t kill the bot.

That’d be too good for them.

There was a final, keen creak of the fox’s arm before it came clean off with a shower of sparks, the very arm responsible for aiming a gun at you and it seemed his system forcibly shut down now to hide from further trauma as the beast-like animatronic fell slack beneath him.

A pitiful play dead response.

“...Is he dead?” He hears you speak out brittley once it had all gone quiet, Glitch peers over his shoulder to look at you peeking over a crate and looking back at him with doe eyes.

You’d be cute if you weren’t painted with blood… But at least your vitals read normal.

This night was gonna haunt him for a bit it felt like. Rather - you’d be haunting him for a bit. That's more accurate.

“No, no he isn’t… Just out of commission. They’ll patch him up for interrogation.” He answers unsteadily, there’s definitely a drive - a wish to finish the job but he’s done enough damage and they need to find out all they could about what was transpiring here.

So he merely radios-in the stray before peeling himself from the fallen and heading over to you…

…You look up at the new too-tall figure, this time a friend that you finally recognized as your coworker, Glitch.

Were all animatronics just built to be large? You didn’t think you were particularly short but you were beginning to see a pattern here. Though you were also on the ground currently.

He’s scratched up from his scrap and holds tears in his nice suit. Honestly it seems like he got more hurt than you did, if damages to his surface coloring counted.

“...Can you stand?” He asks after he lowers himself to a squat in front of you, probably trying to gauge your current state of being at a closer level… Or maybe he just didn’t wanna overwhelm you.

You were ready to be out of this terrible resting spot.

“I… Think I can?”

Though, at this moment, you’re not sure where to even start. You wanna put your gun away, you want to wipe your sweaty palms on your pants despite it being uncouth, you also still wanna get up and walk out and get back in your car and go home and -!

Hands carefully go over your own, plucking you from your adrenaline fueled spiraling thoughts. He navigates your fingers deftly with his own, nudging them to get the safety on and to unload the bullet in the chamber. Little clicks and rings being a very nice change of pace from all the chaotic noises you were surrounded by before.

Which, you realize morosely, that bit of ammo was your last one.

You truly were standing on your last leg just then.

The gun is guided back to its holster, Glitch leaning in and making you focus on nothing but him and all that was him in this moment. A hand settles at your hip and for a moment, you’re looking into eachothers eyes.

You don’t decipher the emotions dancing within them - you can barely figure out your own currently.

In a flash of bravery, you ask, “Could I bother you to pick me up?”

Golden eyes widen some - well, his left eye widens as much as it can. “...You could bother me for anything.” He replies with seeming breathiness without missing a beat this time, almost as if he was relieved you were back to your shenanigans with that request.

The hand at your hip suddenly grips you firm and is matched with another hand on the other side before you’re picked up like you weigh no more than a couple of grapes. You only have time to gasp as you’re not held like a ballerina waiting to be held overhead for long, instead carefully maneuvered to be in a bridal carry and held protectively to him.

This is the closest you’ve been to the bot and frankly, you’re unsure what to do with yourself.

Your hands seem to dance between wanting to rest against him on his chest - or resting against yourself in an awkward cradle to your own chest. A need to comfort your savior but also not wanting to overstep whatever was sat between you and him.

“...You’re tense.” You note after a small while, you hadn’t realized how far you went into the maze of crates in your digs for survival.

Glitch hums above you, “I am also made of metal, there’s not much of me that isn’t rigid.” His words are teasing but his tone doesn’t quite match up, it’s distant. Not all there. His thoughts have his attention more than you do.

“You know what I mean…”

“I’m sure I do.” Without further word, he paws at something along your belt line and you squawk at the sudden prodding.

“What are you-!”

The familiar jingle of keys to your patrol car sounds and is tossed recklessly to another officer on the scene.

Your hands finally know what to do with themselves then and that’s flail, all outstretched in front of you in a pathetic attempt to take your keys back, “I need those!”

The animatronic holding you pointedly ignores you, as do the rest of your fellow officers, too busy snickering and likely spreading gossip for the image Glitch and you offered them tonight.

“Take the patrol car left over on the gravel, officer…” The animatronic announces your name before holding you up like some prize and you feel your face burn in embarrassment at some of the snickers that ensue afterwards. “Here is unfit to drive in this current state.”

There are cheers at your safe recovery but of course the statement draws some concern.

The coworker who has your keys, Johnson, you think it is. Someone who commonly teams up with Glitch only gives a curt nod before gesturing to you. “Do they need medical attention?”

“I don’t think so. Not emergency at least.”

You squirm, “Do I get a say in this?”

“Not currently.” Replies Glitch without so much as a second thought. It’s amusing how adjusted the others seem to his antics.

Your current escort splits from the rest of the team present after that, you wanna laugh and coo at how he tries his absolute damndest to keep you in his arms. Like a toddler unwilling to let go of their favorite soft toy or blanket that needs to be washed. Going as far as leaning a bit too far forward at his height, just to be able to open the door before putting you in the front seat without so much as an inquiry to your state of being.

There’s a part of you that wonders how much of this is for you and how much of it is for him.

You’ve just gotten your seatbelt clicked into place by the time he gets into his seat and it’s not long after that where the two of you are off, the soothing hum of being on the road allowing you to fully relax now.

“...Has that always been screwy?” You gesture to the bent wheel a few minutes into your return to the station with him.

“...Not quite.” He admits after a moment of hesitation, “I, ah… Got worried on the way here. Everyone heard the shots over the radio.”

Oh.

“Is that why you’ve been so…?” You gesture vaguely to him and barely spot the way his gaze flicks to you before going back to the road that stretches ahead.

Eyelights flick to you, “So-? I lied when I said I was able to get what you mean.” This time there was an actual teasing lilt to his words, a little curl to his teeth in a clear smarmy grin that has you huffing.

“...Touchy? Protective? …Comforting?” The last word is said with a moment’s worth of hesitation, unsure if that was quite the word to use. “...Maybe reassuring is the better word all together there.”

“Comforting?”

Before you can even note the small way he echoed one of your words - if you had blinked in that moment, you would have missed it. The screen of his face, for lack of a better word, glitched much like his namesake. Turning into a reflective black void of nothingness for a moment before flickering back on and being loudly silent.

Yeah. He had a way of making silence audible. Where no words needed to be said.

Impressive and intimidating. Just a touch annoying.

Then, like nothing happened at all, he bobs his head in a half nod. “So I have - is this… A problem?” He notes, clearly toeing the topic line of boundaries without outright asking.

With a snort, you’re unable to stop yourself from pointing out the obvious interaction you just had with him, “...I let you carry me, didn’t I?”

“So you did.” He confirms.

“And it was nice…” You say, genuine, but also as a test as you keep a close eye for his reaction.

Glitch doesn’t disappoint as he noticeably grips the wheel with a strength you’d know would crush your hand without so much as a batted eye, yet funnily enough he actually manages to straighten out some of the contortion he subjected it to earlier. Pushing it back into place a fair deal.

His strength was known around the station but still… Poor steering wheel.

It’s not long after that when you finally arrive with him at the station, tumbling out the car as soon as he’s parked safely and stretching obnoxiously with your hands over your head, a number of your joints popping with satisfaction… as well as pulling at some strains you gained over your terrible adventure.

Glitch snickers from the otherside of the car at your theatrics and you look back at him and his tattered state.

With a grin, you ask. “Could I bother you for something again?”

“You can bother me for anything.” He responds much like he did before, this time more like a quip and far more impish with a for-show roll of his eyes to boot.

You turn towards him, throwing your arms over the roof of the car and stretching your hands out for him to take with, what you hoped was taken as, an inviting wiggle of the fingers. “Let me help patch you up? You kinda got all… Scratched saving me, thank you by the way - I can’t say that enough, I can’t remember if I did or not already, but thank you.”

He meets you with a stare you can’t quite place. It’s heavy and questioning, unsure but accepting, like you’ve given him something he thinks is too good to be true yet wants so badly to trust in it.

“...Can I help get the blood off of you first.”

“Oh. Yeah, I should probably get myself cleaned up before handling anything…” You note the patches of dried red on your sleeves with a whine in the back of your throat. “It’s gonna be a pain getting all this cleaned up.”

The animatronic finally takes your hands into his own - only to push you off the car with his reach that surpasses yours. “Don’t you have spare clothes?”

“I did in the patrol car that was left in someone else’s care…” You sulk, looking at him beneath your lashes in a momentary pout as you're pushed away, “I typically keep them with me.”

You miss the way he falters at your look towards him, too busy being full of loathing at the days of cleaning and soaks for your apparel, maybe you’d have to pay extra this month for dry cleaning.

“...borrow one of mine?” Is all you catch as you’re brought back to the present when he’s standing in front of you, hand on hip and head tilted to the side some.

So, in all of your brilliance, you offer in reply a dumb, “What?”

He clears his throat despite the lack of need. “Would you… Like…” Glitch holds a hand over his mouth for a moment, looking away as if your distracted attention was the only reason he prompted this to begin with. “Would you like to borrow one of mine?” He finally gets out, looking at you briefly only to look to the side again and pretending to be far more occupied with the nearby road.

“...Borrow one of your shirts?”

“Yes.”

Both you and him ignore how eagerly he replied to that inquiry.

“Sure.”

“Ah, it’s alri- wait what?” He shoots a look at you of shock, shoulders straightening with rigidity.

“I said sure, I’ll borrow one of your shirts. They’re probably nicer than mine anyway and you dress nice.” You point out casually, making a motion towards his nice leather belt.

“...Right. Yeah - thank you.”

Both you and him also ignore how clearly flustered he was over the compliment and clear fact that he was, in fact, a dapper dresser.

With a toss of your chin, you gesture to the station. “Should we head inside now?”

“We should, yeah…”

He doesn’t move. He’s just looking at you with rounded eyes.

Neither do you. You’re looking back at him with growing curiosity.

You wonder if you’ve had him pinned all wrong as you take the initiative to move, the animatronic moving wordlessly and seamlessly out of your way to follow obediently in step with you. It was… Odd to see, coming from him.

Glitch opens the door for you and the moment you step a foot into the station, there is a sense of disappointment when nothing occurs, you’re not sure what you were expecting but at least some fanfare? A check-up?

It’s unbelievably quiet, you’re not even sure if anyone is available. Someone could be having a meeting or maybe there was an interrogation in progress but still.

At least the front desk worker pays you mind with a nod and a smile.

“Think most of them are now busy with catching runaways and the like…” The animatronic chimes in suddenly as if sensing your drop, just guiding you along with a hand by the small of your back to his office. “Cabinet in the back left corner, bottom drawer should have shirts.”

You look over and up at him, “Do you have spare everything?”

“It pays to be prepared.” Is all he says as he peers down at you with mischief before letting you into his office and nudging you inside, following through and closing the door behind himself.

It’s not that you didn’t realize, it’s just that you didn’t care as you begin to unbutton your top after removing it from its tuck, going from the bottom-up while taking yourself over to the cabinet.

And just as fast as you began to do that - the door abruptly opens and closes behind you, Glitch effectively showing himself out without a second word of input.

“...Sorry!” You half-heartedly bark over your shoulder, not knowing if things were soundproofed but you might as well be courteous as you shrug off one shirt and tug on a new one.

Of course, it’s large on you. You have to tastefully tuck it in where it’ll count and still have a fair amount of room left over, the sleeves also get rolled up to your elbows for sake of ease.

After a final tug to your collar to ensure everything is nice, you call to the closed door, “I’m decent now!” Your old shirt is in a haphazard ball in your hold and the automaton comes in with a plastic bag in hand that he passes to you shortly after.

He also holds a rag and a bottle of water which you look at, puzzled.

“For your face.” Glitch confirms, opening the bottle of water with one hand using his index and thumb. An act that enamours you far more than it should as the cap is dropped off on the desk, some of the water being poured into the hand towel before he begins to dab at your forehead and cheeks.

It’s not a long process but it’s an oddly pleasant one, just being fussed over like this. Occasionally he guides your head to move this way and that with his thumb at your chin.

You get to admire the subtle changes in his expressions. Especially when he finds an area he missed by your hairline and carefully brushes the locks away to get to it, you could practically see a tail wagging behind him in self-satisfaction.

If he notices your staring, he doesn’t comment on it.

By the end however, the sweetness is gone as he drives the cloth hard into your cheek as if getting a particularly stubborn spot before pulling away altogether.

“You’re clear, you should properly make yourself squeaky clean later however.”

Poutily, you rub at your cheek with a withering, weak glare that has him chuckling but with the most pressing matter out of the way, one of them at least, you look around his office before looking back at him, “So how do we fix you up, hm?”

“Well you can’t help with my clothes, for one.” He notes dryly, snickering at how you dramatically gasp in clear mock-offense.

“Why, I never! Just because I’m quick to dress myself down does not mean I don’t respect you enough to attempt to dress you down just as fast!”

“But you wanna dress me down at all?” Glitch goads, peering down to you, evidently humored by your theatrics if the pleased glint in his eyes was any indicator.

Though at this rate, perhaps he should learn that you desperately need a filter as you reply without missing a beat, “I would actually love to see your model as a whole, yes.”

Silence.

His face did the thing again. Becoming blank and eerie just for a heartbeat before coming back to life in full force.

The stare he’s giving you now is… Intense, putting it kindly. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not, plus you’re probably gonna have to remove your shirt anyway if nothing else because you’re covered in scratches. Do you have something for those? Anything?”

“...Top right drawer in my desk, little jar. There’s a brush in there too.” He moseys over to the chair at said desk, sitting himself down in it and beginning the process of getting his shirt off.

This feels oddly domestic as you fetch the items needed, looking at the name of the color with an obvious, obnoxious hum.

“What?”

You waggle the jar playfully from side to side at him, “Obsidian bulwark, really?” you jest before opening it up to reveal the glossy dark red, almost black paint within.

“I can’t help what companies name their products.” His pout is so blatant it has you giggling.

“Mhm. Arms out now.” Glitch does as he’s told and so the long process of touching up all the imperfections commenced. Of course you couldn’t paint all of it, some of the metal was actually torn through, but you could at least make him presentable.

In that time, you spend a fair deal just… Admiring, that felt better to say than ogling, his make. The details of his chest, the two shiny gold buttons that stood out starkly compared to his dark body and you find them absolutely adorable. “I have to say this kinda feels like painting nails.”

“I suppose it’s not that different…” He’s been silent for the most part, just watching how each of his little marks are erased from sight, even ones you’re sure he didn’t get during his time at the harbor but instead sometime in the past that he just never saw. You’re thorough, minding the gradient on his forearm that goes from the almost-black of his body to a carnelian red towards his wrist.

You lift his arms, you turn them this way and that, you get his palms and in-between his fingers.

When you get to his chest, there’s a desperate need to speak so you feel less like some handsy lecherous artist getting too personal with their latest muse.

“Glitch.” You begin, pulling the brush away for the possible outburst that could come from your new, seeming friend.

He looks at you quizzically, probably wondering why you’ve stopped his free pampering treatment of touch-ups. “Yes?”

“This is probably a bad time but I totally thought you hated me.” There’s an absolute one-eighty in his visible emotion, the unknown tension in the air dissipating in seconds when he levels you with a deadpan look that has you doubling over in laughter in record time. It was a good thing you pulled away as the little jar of paint clatters on his desk.

“You thought I hated you?” Glitch echoes your words with bewilderment, almost sounding offended by the sheer notion as he puts his hand to his chest, gesturing to himself. “Me? How?”

“Okay - hold on… I think - maybe this was a miscommunication.” You try to placate through your shoulder-shaking mirth, “But… You never - talked to me really. Not like this. We especially have never interacted like this.”

That gets his attention. “We didn’t?”

“No, if I tried to talk to you - you’d get all like… Awkward and stiff? You’d act short with me. Kinda made it seem like you were looking for the soonest opportunity to stop talking with me.”

Every example you begin to point out afterwards, his apparent inability to interact with you before, makes him visibly recoil more in on himself.

“I - Okay I… I get it.” Now he’s gesturing with his hands to have you stop, “I hope my actions today have shown you otherwise that I very much do not hate you.”

You nod, “Which is why I’ve been very confused for a better half of this whole time spent.”

“Suppose I should try to explain myself but…” He fidgets before ultimately going for the move to make himself comfortable, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. An act that is far too tempting considering his shirtless status. “Easiest way to put it, I could not figure out how to… Act around you, Wildfire.”

“Wildfire?”

“Mhm. That is how I see you, a burning wildfire. Beautiful and necessary in nature, scary and destructive, going by its own whims or following the winds. You are capable of so much as showcased earlier with how you handled yourself, surrounded by enemies. You’re vibrant, brilliant,” He stops suddenly, slowly blinking at you before tilting his head quizzically, “Your heart rate is startlingly fast, are you alright?”

No. No you very much weren’t. There’s a heat behind your ears and you’ve never felt so flushed in your life before - save for when you were severely sick. Maybe he didn’t recognize it, the way his face steadily shifted the longer he spoke. Sickeningly sticky-sweet fondness and utter adoration in his eyes, his ever-sharp grin softening into a genuine smile.

All for you.

All for what he apparently saw you as.

He called you wildfire. Like you were his wildfire, to bask in its warmth and never fear its wrath.

When you don’t answer in a timely manner, he reaches out to gently brush your cheek with knuckles that hadn’t needed to be painted, the coolness of the metal surface bringing you back to the moment.

You try to get your thoughts in order with little success, “So… Earlier. When you said you were worried for me - so much so you bent the steering wheel…”

Glitch’s laugh is light and airy, a bit embarrassed at his actions being brought up again. “I was worried for you, yes. Not just as my coworker, my fellow law enforcement, but you as an individual, your person. I was worried that fire would be put out and I would be left cold for quite some time.”

This was the same man… Animatronic… Robot. Man. Who struggled to ask if you’d like to wear one of his shirts for a very clean and very honest reason.

You feel blindsided by this development.

“...When did this start?” That was probably the most burning question that needed an answer right now.

At least he has the decency to look thoughtful now, not giving you the “since we first met” spiel that you were expecting. You don’t think your heart would have been able to handle that.

“Do you happen to remember the first times we were out on the road and so on together? When you first joined the force.”

Ah, your green days… You remember those well, you got one of your first and really one of your only major scars on duty back then. You’ve since learned your lesson of course but… Oh.

“You mean when I took on that madman with you?”

“Yes, when you took a wild stabbing for me - quite literally on that note. Despite your very fleshiness compared to my metal being.” He carefully prods your side where the scar sits, it was far nicer than what it used to be a few years ago. “You didn’t even look agonized over it - you smiled at me in reassurance despite you being the one injured. Most typically put me on the front lines for a reason.”

Damn it all. “...So basically when we first met?”

“It would seem so, yes.”

You deflate with a hiss through your teeth, hiding your face in your hands as you belatedly realize too late you still have the paint brush in your hand. Promptly smearing color across your forehead and into your hair. You could worry about that later. Maybe you’d just dye your hair with it.

You peer at him through a crack in your fingers. “...Are you also why we immediately stopped being paired together on duty no matter what after that?” You wanna cringe at the way you sound so pitched but your nerves are shot and you’re riding an unbelievable high despite how embarrassed you felt.

To be so prized and valued? Right beneath your nose? For months? All because you wanted to respect a seeming unsung wish while he wanted to protect you?

This feels right out of a movie.

“Mhm, I couldn’t let you risk yourself for me in case of any more bad cases or calls. I know you are not fragile - but I am far more resistant to attacks than you are.” The corners of his eyes get sharper, that sweet smile he held turning back into the cheshire grin you know once again as he’s unbelievably smug about the reaction he’s pulling from you now.

It seems he finally understood why your heart was going a mile a minute.

“Are you satisfied over there?”

“Immensely.” He drawls. “Are you satisfied with your discoveries?”

You hum, “Two more questions?”

“Shoot.”

“Will the paint stain my skin?” You take your face away from your hands, noting the wet feeling across your forehead with a grimace as the brush falls away from you.

“Probably not, it should come off like any other paint. If it did stain, wearing clothes would be an issue for us.”

Sound reasoning, that leaves you with your next question if he doesn’t pull the “but you already asked a question” thing which sounds right up his alley to do but… Well.

He’s looking at you patiently, kindly.

If a bit smugly.

“...What does this uh… Mean for us?” You point to yourself then to him, swapping it a few times before letting your hand fall limp at the wrist.

Glitch reaches out to hold that hand in one of his own, the paint having now dried it seems, “I don’t believe it has to mean anything if you don’t want it to. I think we got over the obvious issues I… Seemed to have while interacting with you before.” His fingers find their place in-between yours, lacing the hands together seamlessly.

You can’t help it, the seemingly running joke between you and him now, “...Does it mean I get to bother you more often?”

He sighs and instead of giving you the reply that you expect by now, he draws your hand close and turns it towards him, pressing it to his teeth in a very clear note of affection.

“You will never and I do mean never be a bother to me. You will be yourself and I will admire you endlessly for it every time. Do not hold back on my account… Is this clear?”

The glare he gives you over your hand is plain as day. There’s some underlying threat there despite the tenderhearted words, that there’d be a consequence if you’d push yourself down again even jokingly.

You swallow thickly.

“Crystal… Crystal clear, Glitch.”

The animatronic pulls you in suddenly, pressing his face to your cheek in another kiss.

“Good. You look nice in my shirt by the way.”

“...It’s made out of boyfriend material so I’d hope it looks good.”

You’re unprepared for how he bonks his head to yours in admonishment.

Worth it.

#eclipse x reader #dca x reader #daycare attendant x reader #foxy x reader #if you squint #fnaf sb x reader #fnafsb x reader #sorry not sorry for what this inspires at the end of the day #joyfic #(edit: forgot a tag im sorry)

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