Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Name: [Y/N] [L/N] 
Age: 24
Pronouns: She/They
Occupation: Investigator 
Appearance: (your appearance), has nose and a lip piecing and has clear shadows under her eyes. Has scars across chest, arms, legs, face etc.
Skin Tone: (your skin tone)
Attire: Usually seen wearing a waist coat, bow tie, trench coat, trousers and combat boots. 
Height: 5’4

Any other info: Has been trained with a gun, a knife and excelled in martial arts. They are quite cold towards strangers and refuses to ask for help when they need it. Has a knife hidden under her pillow, and takes a while to trust people. You have one arm from due to the incident (you have never quite remembered why) after an almost-forced stuffing into the suit.

Chapter Text

Silence was something she disliked. In the quiet, anything could happen. The unnatural, the evil could hide in the darkness. It could strike you in the back before you expect it. You could be betrayed by someone you trusted: we don’t know everyone’s hidden demons and what they may be conspiring next. You needed to be able to read the air that dampened around them as they spoke, to listen to the tone of their voices, or even slight hint of a change in expression could indicate how they truly felt. 

The police station was surprisingly rowdy for a Tuesday morning. Coffee was the only thing fuelling her right now, as she scrolled through the cases on her laptop. The coffee beside her only had a splash of milk, maybe even a few sugar cubes if she felt like it. Her fingers tapped against it, her eyes glued to the screen. She squinted as her eyes blurred. She blinked, opening them.

Papers were strewn across her desk in black ink. It was messily written across the page. Possibly done in a rush. [Y/N] aggressively trailed her hand down her face and let out a sigh. She couldn’t quite pinpoint why, but she had a feeling she would not like today.  

They raised their mechanical arm to eye level, and clenched. The way their bionic arm moved, or even clenched as she demanded it, seemed like something magical. Beneath her clothes, their damaged skin easily attached to her bionic arm, due to the correct nerves being still in tact. It didn’t hurt much anymore. When she was younger, around five, or six, the top of their arm would hurt tremendously, as did the rest of her scars. They would burn each time they touched them. 

After her bionic arm was attached to her (after much testing of her nerve response in her arm) it still burned, but it started to get better and they could finally use both arms. Her parents had thought it was a waste of time, that losing her arm was enough to ruin her chances for a future. 

All she could do was laugh at them. She finally fulfilled her dream of being an investigator, so why would they care what her family had to say?

A pat on her shoulder stirred her from her thoughts. She turned around, scowling, to face Smith, who was the Head of the Department. She lightly pushed off his hand from her shoulder and turned back to the documents flashing across her screen. "Thought I told you about boundaries, Sir. I don’t like being touched.”
Smith scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry, I forgot. Could I talk to you about possibly taking on another case-“

"I would rather have a bath with my toaster,” [Y/N] said, tapping her watch without directly looking at it. "In fact, it’s planned next week.”
Smith sweat dropped, and coughed into his hand. "No need to be so crass, [L/N]. It’s just everyone else is stacked up with work and you seem almost done with your current case…”
[Y/N] scratched the side of her eyes, and huffed. "What case is it?”

Smith removed the documents tucked underneath his arm and placed them on the table. He slid the documents to face them. She looked up at him for a moment before she opened to the first page. Her eyes widened as she scanned over the title: ‘The Bunny Killer: The Restaurant Massacre’.

Underneath, underlined in blue highlighter, was 'Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria.’

That was a name they had not heard in a long time.

"So, you want me to…solve this case?” They heard Smith give an affirming hum. "Haven’t heard this name in a while. But why this one?”
"There has been some more evidence found and they need an investigator to be sent over to the Pizzeria to go undercover.”

[Y/N] flipped over the page with her right hand, tracing over the page with one of her metallic fingers until she reached the bottom of the page, trailing over the section of the page where it described the newfound evidence. Turns out, there had been some tapes years ago, for the new employees. They had been recorded whilst the murders had taken place. 

The murders (of five children) and the deformation of another child, who had not been documented for unknown reasons, was written, with a small explanation for each. Some were newspaper clippings and others were self-made reports from the police.

"Gabriel (aged 6), Jeremy (aged 7), Susie (aged 6), Fritz (aged 8) and Cassidy (aged 8) have not yet been found. Two local children were reportedly lured into a back room during the late hours of operation at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza on the night of June 26th.

While video surveillance identified a possible suspect, they were later released due to insufficient evidence. Five children are now linked to the incident at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, where a man dressed as a cartoon mascot lured them into a back room. While the suspect has been charged-“ 

Then, he was immediately released. Somehow, there was no evidence to show that he was at the scene of the crime. Something, or someone, had altered the cameras.

“-, the bodies themselves were never found-“

They had been found a week later, when a peculiar odour has been radiating from behind the security office, where a number of drawings by children had been placed. It was a hidden dark room which not even the owner had known about. It had been an incredibly gruesome scene to document. [Y/N] lifted the page, for a moment, and stared at the photos on the other side before returning back to the newspaper clippings. 

So much blood…

The entire room was splattered with crimson. Cassidy’s eyes had been torn from their sockets, with blood that ran down her eyes to along her cheeks, dripping down onto her hands which had been positioned above her head in a grotesque fashion. For Susie, it was evident a knife had been taken and her mouth had been torn off from one side to the other; her teeth could be seen sticking from her open gums, but her mouth had been severed off. 

Fritz had multiple stab wounds along his stomach, chest, and face. Blood could be seen staining his shirt, and the ground beneath him. His jaw seemed to be broken, and almost dislodged. Both of Jeremy’s ears had been torn off, and had multiple stab marks along his collarbone and chest. Gabriel had multiple stabbing along his collarbone and head. 

"Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza has been fighting an uphill battle ever since to convince families to return to the pizzeria.

"It’s a tragedy.””

How…helpful. Could the owner not have said anything more endearing about the deaths of literal children? They only cared about one thing: money. They only cared about the damage it would do to their company. 

“The only alive witness, who her parents have refused to have any part of this, has suffered with major injuries. They are currently at-“

Enough reading, for now.
”You want me to take on this cold case? Are you absolutely sure?” They looked back at Smith who now has his arms crossed against his chest. Smith scratched the back of his neck, a smile beginning to form. 
"You are one of our best investigators. You would do great.”
"Fine, I’ll take it. But, this will be my main focus from now on.” 
Smith almost clapped his hands together. “Thank you! So, who did kill Emily Watson?”
"The husband. Killed her with a steak knife. Reason? He caught her cheating.” 

"Looks like you have free time. First step, go to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.” 

[Y/N] simply nodded. 

Their hand tapped against the car wheel, as her eyes focused on the sigh before her: Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. A place of fun. A place where you could put your children and probably run away and forgot they existed-

Heh.

A stony smile spread across their lips as they parked in front of the bright sign (where Freddy Fazbear, the brown bear she had loved as a kid the most, apart from Bonnie) seemed to be looking down at her, watching. She didn’t need judgment from a sign. They quickly wrapped their fingers around the door handle and pushed it open. Her sleeves were so rolled up they revealed their bionic and ‘normal’ arm. 

[Y/N] slipped her hands into her pockets as soon as the door slammed closed, pressing the button on her keys to lock it completely. This place had created all her good memories when she was younger. Some had been numbed out, or had faded by now, but other than that, she had adored this place.

Her parents gave no shit about her. 

Sighing, [Y/N] stepped towards the doors and pushed them open. So…this was the Pizzeria. It had changed since she had last been here.

That’s for sure.

Chapter Text

The walls were covered in light brown wood, whilst the floor beneath their feet was dark blue dotted with light blue stars. The stage, placed to the right, nearby to where she walked through, was occupied by six animatronics: a brown bear with a black bow tie and hat, a yellow chicken with a bib around her neck, reading ‘Let’s Eat’, who also held a pink cupcake in her hand. A purple rabbit holding a red guitar stood next to the brown bear, whilst more toy-looking animatronics we’re walking around and greeting customers. 

One was a brown bear with red cheeks, a black hat and a bow tie, whilst a light blue rabbit had red cheeks, a bow tie and his guitar was on his back. A yellow chicken with pink cheeks, a bib (with a surprisingly curvier physique than Chica), and a pink shade where her bottom half was.

These must have been the new Toy animatronics. They had been designed a few years ago to produce more ‘child-friendly’ animatronics so children were not afraid of the newer models. Of course, kids still preferred the original ones, since they had been iconic for as long as they were alive. 

Well, she couldn’t blame them. They seemed like they had more character than the Toys did. Or perhaps she just had her favourites. The tables were covered in blue cloth dotted with tons of stars or glitter, and some rooms were for parties, whilst beside the stage was Parts and Service where tons of spare animatronic heads, or parts were. Above the stage were star decorations tied onto the ceiling, whilst other decorations including drawings, clouds, or even rainbows, were placed along the wall. Along two of the halls led both towards the security office, where a security guard often was to watch the animatronics. It was to make sure they didn’t wander of or kidnap a child. 

A purple curtain with yellow stars, (and an 'Out of Order’) sign was placed to the side, just before the hallway to the security office, and was beside some of the tables. There was another door which led to the kitchen, and there was a different room, on the way towards the security office, where the Toy animatronics were usually kept. There a few arcades, along with the Marionette who stayed within his box, and usually gave gifts to the children, and Mangle. 

Children and adults alike seemed to crowd the tables, or were stood quite close to the stage. So much attention was focused on the animatronics themselves she felt out of place. She placed her hands in her pockets and her eyes trailed over the scene before her: children being happy, running around as their parents ran after them or just sat at their tables, and the children who waited for the original gang to stop singing. 

"Hello, hello?” She turned to the sudden voice; her eyes widened at the man, a lot taller than her (possibly around 6’6) with a red phone on his head. The phone seemed so real. She wanted to touch it, feel it against her fingers. She tilted her head to the side, and stroked her chin slightly. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking either. Maybe she could read his body language?

He waved his hand in front of her eyes and she immediately blinked. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. His tone of voice seemed to reflect he actually meant it. "Sorry about that. Just wondering if you needed anything? You don’t seem like the usual-" Beneath his mask, his eyes were now piercing through her bionic arm, the question on his tongue. It was probably rude to ask about such a thing.

"Not the usual customers, I’m guessing? I-"
Before they could respond, another voice, a little deeper than this Phone Guy’s, spoke from behind him. [Y/N] had to crane her neck to get a better look. Their ears twitched slightly and their piercing, blue eyes stared through her own. They placed their hand on the Phone Guy’s shoulder, stirring him from his thoughts. "Who’s this, Scott? I don’t recognise them.”

Scott grabbed hold of the large bear’s hand with his fingers and quickly threw it off, crossing his arms against his chest. There was a sudden tension in the air. Scott was digging his nails into his arms, applying pressure the longer Freddy seemed to lurk. His fears had peeked since his appearance. Freddy and Scott had a complicated relationship. Freddy had, once, nearly killed him after losing control of himself, and afterwards, Freddy had tried to make him feel better, for their relationship to form, but it just wouldn’t be the same.

Freddy’s eyes sparkled with worry for a split second, before he turned to [Y/N], his eyes now cast over with a curious glaze. He both recognised her, and didn’t. There was something familiar about her. He tilted his head to the side, and [Y/N] did the same, by tilting her head and smiling slightly. A deep rumble of a laugh erupted from the back of his throat. 

"What an interesting one you are! What is your name?”
A smile made its way to [Y/N]’s face. "[Y/N], it’s nice to meet you. It’s been quite a few years, Freddy. I have changed a lot since then.” She extended her arms for him to see the noticeable slash marks against her arms. They were light silver, and shone in the light. By simply tracing over them, they were jagged and deeper than they first appeared. 

Freddy’s eyes widened. "My dear, are you alright?” Immediately, he placed his microphone in Scott’s hands (who juggled it in his hands before catching it. He let out an annoyed grunt) and softly grasped her heavily scarred arm, tracing his large fingers over each one. "Where are these from? Do you need help?” He looked into her eyes and the caring gaze in his eyes made her flush with colour. 
[Y/N] managed, stuttering, "I-I’m fine! These are very old scars, so old I can’t remember where they came from.”
Freddy scanned her face for any sense of a lie, and there was none. The longer he stared, the longer he took to realise who she was. "I remember you, you were the child who usually was the first to come up to myself or Bonnie before anyone else. You even seemed to even want to see Foxy, despite…” Freddy hesitated.

Scott said, placing the microphone on stage, "Complications with his system.”

Even the place that formed your favourite memories can become bittersweet. Especially if you remember all the trauma, and the dark factors which led you to certain things. She had a nagging feeling the last time she was here it was to get away from someone  but she somehow ran into something far more dangerous. 

She remembered them all, all the animatronics. They had always been sweet. Even now, they seemed to care, just as much as if she was a child. But she was now an adult.

"I’m actually here about possibly getting a job. Maybe the night guard one? Is that available?” Scott froze as soon as she said those words. 
"A-Are you sure you would want that one? Not to do the Dayshift instead?”
[Y/N] stared, coldly, at Scott who was now sweating beneath his mask. Her stare has always been rumoured to even affect the stoniest of hearts; it would break through their mental stupor and raise their fear even further. It was a way for her to break their spirit, one piece at a time. It sounded a little psychotic, and unethical, but all it really did was make the person she was aiming it at sweat and tell the truth.

Her voice, turning from a pleasant one when talking to Freddy, turned frostbitten. There was an edge to her voice he was becoming wary of. "Why not? Is there something you aren’t-“ 
Freddy poked at cheek, where a large scar was. He traced his finger over it, and took time to stare at it, interested in the detail in a single scar and what it could hold. [Y/N]’s eyes turned to him: he flushed brightly, laughing nervously and removed his hands from her.

"I must apologise, [Y/N]. That was very inappropriate of me! I should have asked first.” For a massive bear, he seemed rather flustered and ashamed of himself. Scott had been watching the exchange, feeling a mixture of confusion and annoyance.
"Don’t worry about it, Freddy. I’m not a fan of touching, but I don’t mind you doing it. Maybe it’s favouritism since you were my favourite animatronic when I was younger.” She gave a soft smile. 

Freddy could feel his face flush. He raised his hand to his cheek, and felt the warmth radiating from it. That could have just been a malfunction or something, right? What she said couldn’t have affected him this badly…but, the feeling in his chest, of fluttering butterflies battering against his chest, made him feel something he didn’t think he would ever feel. 

"So, where is your boss’s office?”

Definitely wouldn’t give in about the night guard job. Scott simply pointed, and they soon walked off in that direction. 

"Freddy, what the hell is wrong with you?”
"N-Nothing,” Freddy whispered.
"You don’t just grab peoples arms like that. If the kids saw, they could think it’s fine to just grab a random person’s arm.”
"I know…I don’t know what came over me.” His tone was a lot sadder. He crossed his arms against his chest, and acknowledged Chica and Bonnie walking towards them. He smiled to them, and nodded. 
"Just like when you attacked me, huh?” Freddy flinched at his cold tone.

Chica jumped down from the stage, landing on her feet. Bonnie just went completely round the stage, and stepped down the steps and placed his guitar back on his back. Chica asked, placing her cupcake on the stage beside her, leaning against it slightly, "Who was that? They looked so pretty!”
Bonnie mused. "Hey, don’t even think about trying to flirt with them, Chica. You would have to go against me~” He laughed, placing his elbow on top of her head. She growled, and slapped him off, giving her best ‘pissed of’ look. 
"Please you two, don’t fight. They wanted the night guard position…” After the mention of ‘nightguard’ Scott walked off, possibly towards Mike, who simply waved in his direction. 

Bonnie asked, staring after Scott, "Is he still not talking to you?”
Freddy sighed. "He is, but…it’s less than pleasant. I can understand why…we have all never been the best at night, have we?”
"Well no…” Bonnie began, patting his shoulder. "But that happened two years ago. We have improved since then. I mean Chica still makes loud noises in the kitchen and terrifies the guard…but other than that, we have a clean record.”
Chica scowled at him. "Eat sh-“
”Chica, this is a family friendly establishment.”

Electric began to trail between the two as they glared at each other. Freddy trailed his hand across his face.

Just what would he do with these two? At least Foxy was a lot calmer. And friendlier.

These two at least only playfully fought. Still…something was nagging at him. Was the return of [Y/N] due to something else? It could be possible. No one has returned (at least not many) from around her time due to the murders. 

Hopefully…she was here to solve them. He believed in her. But, it didn’t stop his heart from beating when he thought about her.

Strange.

Chapter Text

After a short conversation, with the 'Boss’, known as Hugh (who had been the one to plead [Y/N] into taking the graveyard shift) had happily given the night guard position to [Y/N]. Right now, he was talking about her size for the uniform she would be wearing. The way he rested his head on top of both hands interlocked, or the stare in his eyes sent her weird vibes. His office was quite simple: with bland, white wallpaper which was tearing off at the sides, with a dark wooden floor. On his desk was stacked documents almost reaching his eye level, with a few pens placed at an odd angle.

The man’s hair seemed dishevelled. It was cut sloppily, and hairs seemed to cover his skin, where beads of sweat had resided. His eyes were reddish, and seemed a little swollen. The shadows underneath his eyes popped out his light blue eyes. His wrinkles led along his mouth, and the sides of his eyes. Hugh Stevenson, the man they were sat before. For around twenty years he had owned this establishment. This also meant he was the man around when the murders has occurred. 

Their head titled to the side, framing their head, remaining still, eyes glossing over. They looked like a puppet, caught in the moment, just before it’s strings were severed or played with, wrapped around someone’s fingers. To act, or be seen a certain way. Now, that’s how some people may be; they pretend. For [Y/N]? They could do that. 

Afterall, you just sometimes have to pretend to get through life instead of facing your fears, who you really are. We all fear something.

For [Y/N], they feared many things, despite never admitting it to anyone. They never wanted to show weakness ever again. Oddly, they felt compelled to throw all this out the window and didn’t mind to show their softer side (or be a little affectionate) towards her childhood favourite animatronics.

They remembered vividly what it said in the file in relation to Mr. Stevenson.

"Hugh Stevenson (34) has been under suspicion after he refused to answer our questions in relation to the murders. Instead, he continued to ask whether his establishment will be permanently closed. He seems to care more about people going to the Pizzeria, than the children’s murders. He said in an interview with police:

"I mean it, the deaths of those children were unfortunate. But, it’s not my fault. I couldn’t help it if the front door has a broken lock.”

(The interviewer) " Are you saying the front door of the Pizzeria is easy to access? Even for the public? That must mean even someone as small as a child could slip through.”

"W-Wait no, that’s not what I-they shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Why would the door matter in the first place? I thought they were abducted during a party or something-“

”How do you know that? The police have not yet done an interview in relation to the murders.”

Hugh remained silent.

After, Hugh Stevenson refused to admit he had said these things to an interviewer and will not tell us how he may know certain pieces of information not even the police have admitted.”

He was either: stupid or someone who managed to pin the blame on himself. After all, he had been the one said to have been the main suspect for a while.

Hugh let out a sigh, before rubbing the inside of his eye, lifting up his eyelid slightly. [Y/N] squinted in slight disgust; they could hear the slight noise it made. Like squelching? It just gave them shivers. "We will have to look at the current sizes in the lost and found, and see whether you fit any of them. Whilst we do that, you can meet the crew.” He gave a small smile. They just blinked in response and he simply sighed, again. 

He used both hands on the sides of the desk to lift himself up, and they followed. He moved towards the door at a decently fast pace, and opened it, walking through and indicating for [Y/N] to follow. They did. He walked downstairs, with [Y/N] close behind him. 

Bonnie was retuning his guitar before their next show in thirty minutes, by sitting on stage, with his back against the curtain. Chica was chatting to Freddy about a new batch of cupcakes she had experimented with (peppermint cupcakes, with a hint of cinnamon) to see whether she should start handing them out after asking whether the child had any allergies.

The Dayshift guards were wandering around to make sure the animatronics were behaving themselves. One of the night guards stayed behind in the security office to check the cameras. Foxy was behind his curtain, using his hook to even get a glance of the children running around. The Toy animatronics were either walking around, or stayed around the gift/arcade area.

[Y/N] placed their hands in their pockets, standing beside Hugh, who stopped to the side of the stage. He waved his hand over and some of the animatronics started to walk over, along with the Dayshift guards. Hugh patted [Y/N]’s shoulder as soon as everyone stood in front of them. [Y/N] could feel their eyes scanning her and looking over each aspect, to see whether she could be trusted or not. 

”Hey, everyone. Just want to introduce you to someone. This is [Y/N], she will be taking on the night guard position from tonight. So…treat her well, guys. Introduce yourselves, I have work to do. Do not bother me.” Just like that, he walked back upstairs, to his office. 

[Y/N] kept their eyes to the floor, a cold look in her eyes. She took her hands from her pockets and took a deep breath. No point in giving in now. You can do this. You don’t have to talk to them afterwards. Plus, the night shift will be nice and lonely, right? As soon as she looked up, a boy animatronic wearing a light blue and red cap stared in her eyes. Someone had their arms around him to lift him to meet her gaze. 

She stepped back. She could feel her hands begin to shake, or twitch. Her bionic arm began to move artistically. She hissed to herself and grabbed hold of her metal arm, applying pressure, and strength, to stop it from moving. Her nervous shakes often set off her bionic arm, somehow. She only spoke to people when it was needed. 

Were any introductions really needed? She wouldn’t be here long. 

"Are…you there? Can you hear- Holy fuck what’s wrong with your arm?!” Mike almost shouted until Scott covered his mouth with his hand. 
[Y/N] aggressively turned her head to glare at him and he seemed to falter immediately. His eyes seemed to shrink and he backed away, with his hands up in defence. A few of the animatronics laughed behind him and hid their laughs in their hands.

Most of the animatronics were in awe, and were interested. 

"It’s a bionic arm, dumbass,” [Y/N] spoke. "It’s metal. Instead of having a-"
"-right I got it-"
”-flesh arm, it’s metal instead. Since I lost it-“
"-shut up, I got it already!” Mike shouted. He was inches from her face.

[Y/N] snorted. "Oh, did I strike a nerve? It’s not even your arm, and yet, you seemed to have lost your temper for some reason. There’s children around, you might want to sort out that temper of yours.” He simply growled, and Scott had to be the one to get him away. Her eyes glossed over, silver. She placed her hands back in her pockets. "Right. I’m [Y/N], the new nightguard. I have no intention with speaking with you guys unless I need to. Don’t be too disheartened.” A few of them introduced themselves, such as Mike and Fritz, whilst the animatronics (such as Toy Freddy and Toy Chica).

Before anyone could respond, she turned around, and started to step down the hallway, towards the Toys. She slipped through the door, and her eyes seemed to brighten at the sight before her. There was decorations decorating the room in the shapes of stars. In the corner, were toys with shelves on them, and a box beside it. Floating above the open box was a black and white puppet-like animatronic with red cheeks, and purple tears flowing down its cheeks. 

Slowly, his head turned to face her. She jumped slightly as it was in her face before she could react or blink.
"Hello?”
"Hello. Well, you are a pretty one, aren’t you? You must be the new nightguard.” His voice was smooth, and deep. 
"How did you know?”
His smile seemed to widen. "I know many things. For one, why you are here.” She gaped. "Your secret is safe with me. I am the Marionette, or Puppet. Whichever you prefer. Over there,” He pointed to a broken animatronic (a white and pink fox) and [Y/N] turned to face them. She could hear the glitched whines from where she stood. "Is ‘The Mangle’, but her real name is Toy Foxy. She has become quite isolated from everyone else. Toy Bonnie is behind you, and Toy Chica is elsewhere. Dealing with a party, I believe.” 

Behind? 

She slowly turned and soon met the green eyes of Toy Bonnie. He closed his eyes and gave his biggest smile.
"Hi, I’m Toy Bonnie.” His tail was moving from side to side. If this animatronic had an aura, it would be sparkly and full of flower petals. He just gave off the ‘im too pure’ vibes. 
"…nice to meet you. I’m [Y/N]. The night guard-" She froze as he brushed his finger against her cheek, before trailing his fingers over the scars along her arms. She flushed from the contact. 

What was with animatronics and touching her? Not to say it was bad, but…personal space.

Marionette crossed his arms against his chest, and glared at Toy Bonnie. The light blue rabbit just smiled in response, unaffected. "Toy Bonnie, you can’t just do that to people you just meet. People require their own personal space." 
"But they like it, Mari. Look! Adorable,” he seemed to purr as [Y/N] made no effort to move away from his affection. His hand traced over her face, and the slow, but careful trace he did over her deep, silver scars make her heart flutter against her chest. Her face flushed darker, reaching to the tips of her ears. 

"…S-Shut up…” [Y/N] could only manage. 

From the corner of his eye, Freddy could see Toy Bonnie stroking [Y/N]’s face without a care in the world. It made his chest clench. He didn’t like it.

"Lad, are ye jealous?” Foxy asked, throwing open the curtain a little so Freddy could sit down beside him. ”Ye aren’ usually the one to be. Ye be the biggest softie, after all. I wanna introduce me self, but I don’ think I can leave.”
Freddy smiled softly. "I’m sure if you sneak past…no one is watching right now, old friend.”
Foxy looked up at him, a laugh erupting from his throat. "Ye be too kind to me, lad.”
"Everyone deserves kindness. Plusssss, let’s get you by Mike-" Without being unable to respond, Freddy picked up Foxy; he started to slowly walk along the hallway, whilst holding Foxy like a kitten. Foxy looked down, with his arms down, and confusion across his face.

[Y/N] turned around just in time to see the pair. She began, ”What…the hell?”
Freddy could feel himself flush. "This is Foxy.”
Foxy waved. "Hi.”
"I’m [Y/N]? Look, if you guys get weirder at night, I refuse to come back.”

"I won’t lie, we do.”
"TB, shush.”
"Still here.”
Freddy said, unsure. "Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.”
"…no.”

Chapter Text

The sky was midnight blue, with white and yellow stars dotting across the sky. The thrill of the silence was enough to set her off; about anything could happen in the darkness. It was a time people allowed their desire to run wild, to allow it to consume them fully. Their demons, their inner thoughts would take over. So, [Y/N] caught herself looking from side to side, her eyes staring through the shadows in the dark, jumping at the slightest noise.

Fuck, why did she decide to walk here? It was simple: she had left her car at the Pizzeria after deciding to wander into town to get some things and completely forgot she left her car there until she had gotten back home.

A stupid decision on her part really.

She wore a dark blue, button-up shirt with a Security badge messily sewn on the chest, along with trousers and a pair of boots. She was wearing her coat, where she hid her secret stash of sweets. She slid her hands into her trouser pockets and stepped down the street, only her path illuminated by the street lamps above. It filtered through the slightly dusty bulbs, glaring from above. 

She was nearly there. It was around 11:37pm. Might as well be early. It was better than being late; the car park was obscured completely by shadow, with no light. The only presence she could see was the car in front of the sign. Each step she took, she could hear the jingle of her keys. Her fingers wrapped around them, the coldness feeling almost refreshing against her flesh. It made her feel alive, if just for a moment. 

She unlocked the front door, and quickly closed it, then locked it.

"I imagined I would at least hear them.” [Y/N] whispered to herself. It was more so to herself than anyone. She preferred to at least hear something to know she was not alone, that she was not being followed. Often the sense of being followed, pursued, seemed to stain her mind like ink on a page. She would hear footsteps that weren’t there. Whispers echoed in the dark in a deep, barely audible voice. 

She could recognise it. But she didn’t know where from.

"…Follow me…It’s me…”

Her subconscious may not even want her to remember. The mind torments us like that. It numbs the memories we do not wish to remember, those which traumatise us so. 

[Y/N] blinked their eyes a few times, unconsciously tracing over her bionic arm by feeling the metal against her fingers. These voices had grown louder since she came back. She didn’t want them back. Not now.

They threw their keys up in the air, then caught them in her hand, as she began to step down the hall towards the Security office. She checked the time on her watch: 11:56pm. Oh, nearly time for her shift. The security office had two doors and two vents on either side; there was a black, spinning chair in the middle, with a desk in front.

Posters of the Toys and Originals were posted on the walls, of them all smiling and posing. On top of the desk was a rotating fan, Carl the Cupcake (who stared into your soul), along with a tablet connected to the cameras, a Freddy mask, and just some rubbish which they had forgotten to tidy. 

There was another button which could be pressed to wind the music box. (With several sticky notes which read ‘Wind’, ‘Don’t forget,’ ‘Seriously, you will be fucked’.

Pleasant. Just enough to calm her nerves. 

"Where are the lights…?” Her hand traced over the wall beside the office, patting at the wall until she made contact. But just as she pressed it, so did someone else. She glanced up just in time for the lights to flicker on. 

A pair of magenta eyes stared through her own.

Bonnie grinned at her, his hand covering hers. He couldn’t help but snicker as she attempted to retrieve her hand back, but ended up giving up in the end. 

"It’s nice to finally meet you, again, [Y/N]. It’s been a few years since we last met! But you’ve gotten bigger-“
"-Are you calling me fat?”
Bonnie’s eyes widened slightly. He removed his hand from on top of hers to aggressively shake his hands in the air as he was nervously laughing. "N-No! Of course not- you’re chunky sure- wait no not chunky, you’re very curvaceous-No wait, hot-oh my god…” He covered his face in his hands and began to groan.

[Y/N] slid her hand in her pocket, rustling around until her hand felt the paper of a lollipop. She picked it up and held it eye level, twisting it between her fingers. She deadpanned, holding it out for him to take. "Want a lollipop?” His fingers uncovered some of his eyes. "And, I was just joking. You are Bonnie, right? The massive softie with a temper?”

He whined, "I’m not a softie.” He removed his hands from his face to look at the lollipop. It looked to be Blueberry flavour. He cautiously took it from her hand. "Thanks…I didn’t mean to say those things…”
"I don’t mind,” [Y/N] spoke. She patted his shoulder, her smile widening. He felt himself flush from how kind her smile was. Butterflies were worming it’s way along his chest; he unconsciously stroked his chest, unsure of this newfound warmth. "It’s sweet that you care enough to apologise though. A majority of people tell me I should just lose weight or something…Sorry, that’s a lot to unpack after meeting again. I’m not usually this honest.” 

[Y/N] used her left arm to take off the coat from her right, and slowly took it off. She held it in her arms, before folding it and placing it against the chair in the Security office. She sat down on the chair and hoisted herself close to the desk by using both of her arms on either side of the table. Bonnie bent down to be able to go through the door (these doors had been redesigned since everyone was aware Bonnie tended to distract the nightguard) and he stood beside [Y/N], a light blue lollipop hanging from his mouth.

It was now 12:03am.

"You aren’t usually this warm?” Bonnie asked. [Y/N] had picked up the tablet to check where everyone was. 
"No. I don’t like talking to people, or touch.” No movement. Some of them were just sat on stage. "But, you guys make me don’t mind it so much. Maybe it’s because I loved you guys so much when I was younger."
Bonnie’s face burned. He picked at his fingers, with one eye trained on [Y/N]. "Why…did you stop coming? We all missed you.” 

It struck her more than she thought it would coming from him. Her chest began to twist uncomfortably. She scrunched up her shirt in her hand, and the burning sensation from her bionic arm was picking up slightly. It was like a small pain, or burning sensation, were it was starting to become worse. It only affected the top of her arm, where flesh and metal met. It hadn’t done this for so long.

She might need to get it checked out. 

"I missed you guys too. You guys were the only happy things in my life,” She said. Bonnie placed his hands on both of her shoulders, standing right behind her, and squeezed. "It was something to do with my metal arm here. But even with that, I’m unsure how I got it in the first place.”
Bonnie furrowed his eyebrows. He bent down to rest his head against her shoulder, and nuzzle his face into the crook of her neck. She made no effort to move him since they were both comfortable. 

"That’s strange.” She hummed. 
"You two look quite comfy~" Came a sweet, southern accent from the door. Chica was peeking through (her eyes almost shone brightly in the darkness) the door. She stepped into the office and a smirk was across her face. Bonnie scowled in her direction.
Without turning her head, [Y/N] said, "Hello, Chica. It’s lovely to see you again. And Bonnie is very comfortable.” 
”I’m sure he is.” 
[Y/N] eyes focused on the scene on the cameras: a few of the animatronics (Toy Bonnie, Toy Chica, Foxy and BB) were having a dance battle. It was questionable at best.

None of them were even good, but it was fun to watch.

But that was not why she was here. She was here to investigate. First, she might need to begin with Hugh’s office, and see whether he had any messages or newspapers kept from the time of the murders. Right now, she wanted to be cuddled by a massive bunny.

Oh well.

Chapter Text

One thing she did not expect was for Bonnie to be so warm. He was made of metal, and everything uncomfortable. Well, he was nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck, breathing hot air into her neck. She shuddered as he wrapped his arms around her waist, purring into her neck. Her face flushed with colour from how intimate he was being. 

He was touch starved, to put it lightly. [Y/N] had been the only person to let him hug and nuzzle. Freddy was fine with hugs, but sometimes Bonnie tended to do it when he was busy, so, he normally hid himself backstage. For Chica, they tended to passive aggressively argue, or outright have wrestling matches, so cuddling was out of the question.

Foxy was happy to be cuddled by Bonnie (since he was also touch starved) but his hook could be quite dangerous. It had scratched him on multiple occasions. So [Y/N] was a nice addition.

"Are you planning to stay like this all night?” [Y/N] asked as she flipped through the cameras. His weight was beginning to cause her to fall down in her seat. He had began to slightly bend over the seat to nuzzle his head into her neck.

"Yep~” He purred. "Have a problem with that?”
[Y/N] couldn’t even be ‘angry’ at him. He was too adorable to be mad at. She moved her hand, and tucked it under his chin. She began to scratch her fingers underneath his chin. A deep purr erupted in the back of his throat. He nuzzled his head further into her neck.

"Bonnie.”
He merely hummed in response. 
"Bonnie, I swear to god-"
He murmured into her ear, "What are you going to do, sugar?”
She blushed even further. "Oh my god, Bonnie, I will slap you.” He began to whine; [Y/N] ignored him, instead, deciding to stand up, with his arms still around her waist. She grunted as he gave all his energy into becoming dead weight, by pressing his chest against her back and, indirectly, pinning her to the wall. 

She used her hands to push herself off of the wall.

For a bystander, this would look…suspicious. Freddy had been watching from the door for a few minutes, whilst Chica, who had been in the kitchen, returned with a plate full of cupcakes. A look of slyness was sparkling in her eye, and she had to hide her smile by placing her hand against her mouth. Freddy, on the other hand, was unsure how to react. His chest seemed to bubble uncomfortably, with an odd emotion he couldn’t quite place. 

Something he didn’t expect to feel himself, as an animatronic.

"You two seem…close,” Freddy said. He sorted out his bow tie at his neck, his stare focused on the ground beneath him. He just couldn’t look at them. [Y/N] was suddenly pulled back by Bonnie so her back rested against his chest. Bonnie could feel the heat reaching his face as he realised what he did.

He had pressed her against the wall. Pinned her. 

But why did he like the thought? 

”I’m sure he didn’t realise, Freddy,” [Y/N] said softly. She reached up to pat Bonnie’s head affectionately. Chica could only smile. Despite their arguments, herself and Bonnie were very close friends. So to see him being affectionate was both humorous and cute. In a friendly way, of course. Chica couldn’t help but look over [Y/N].

They were gorgeous. 

There was so much to cuddle and kiss. So much curve it was hard not to stare. 

Chica covered her face, the blush across her face beginning to burn. 

Damn…[Y/N] was attractive and she wasn’t afraid to think it. 

"Bonnie, I need to go.”
"Why?~” Bonnie whined even more.
"Bonnie, she needs to go investigate,” Freddy spoke with an unwavering gaze on Bonnie and [Y/N]. Wait how did he know? "It was about time someone came to investigate those murders of those poor children.”

”How did…you know about that?” [Y/N] said, coldly. It was enough to make them all flinch. The look in her eyes was distant. As their eyes met, Freddy had to step back to stop himself from running off completely, tempted to put up his hands as some sort of offence. It was the same look she had when she was younger, the day of the murders. The stare she had given her attacker, the very one who had slaughtered her friends. He remembered it. But he didn’t want to.

Even back then, she had been ferocious and quick-witted. For a child, she was strangely mature. Knowing her parents, who left her alone at the restaurant, it was no surprise. They didn’t seem to care if she was murdered or not, or taken. They just left her with her friends, who were children themselves. 

"Not many chi-people from when you were a child returned to this pizzeria. Not that…we can blame you. It was a traumatising time where parents feared for their child’s safety. We all saw it. The fear, the devastation…we could see in your eyes you were here for much more than merely a nightguard position. You have an air of seriousness, despite how…kind and warm you have been towards us animatronics.”
[Y/N] wiped her hand against her face, and sighed. "I won’t lie, I did come here for that reason. But you cannot tell anyone, I’m here under strict secrecy. I need to start with Hugh’s office,” [Y/N] spoke, a sense of tiredness in her tone.

Bonnie nuzzled into the crook of her neck, placing his hands on either side of her shoulders. "Have you slept well?”
"I’m an investigator with a tendency to only sleep in the bath, what do you think?”
"What a cleansing sleep-" [Y/N] turned around to scowl at him. He flinched back. "Sorry, sugar.”
[Y/N] flushed. He allowed for her to escape from his arms. She nodded to Freddy, then Chica, and left through the hallway, up the stairs towards Hugh’s office.

”She is such a spitfire.”
"…Bonnie, don’t flirt with the nightguard,” Chica smirked. She placed down a cupcake on [Y/N]’s desk. It was a red velvet cupcake, with red cake, white icing, and blood red sprinkles. It was one of the recipes she had decided to experiment with. Her next were going to be ‘birthday’ cupcakes. With vanilla, strawberry and chocolate flavouring, pink icing (with marzipan flavouring), rainbow sprinkles and a single rainbow decoration on top. 

"Freddy,” Chica began, her eyes cast to the tablet. Bonnie and Freddy both looked at her as she spoke. "I don’t think she remembers, do she?”
"For now, I believe that may be for the best. She…was one of the ones to suffer the most.” 

Step.

Step. A silver blade sliced against the wall, creating wavy lines against the walls. They were white, untouched by blood. For now. A [h/c] child wrapped her arms around Cassidy, keeping her friend close against her chest, whispering something indistinct into her ear. A few tears ran down Cassidy’s face, trailing down her cheeks and staining [Y/N]’s shirt. 
"Cass, it’s ok. Don’t cry, please.”

Cassidy was afraid to die. But [Y/N] wasn’t. Everyone else had hidden elsewhere in the pizzeria. No one has died. If they had, they would have heard their screams. The pizzeria echoed often. Whether it was the whispers of demons, or the taunts of a killer. 

The killer wore a mascot suit. Spring Bonnie, the old face of the older restaurant. The killer wore it as a sick joke, as an excuse to win their affections. All he was, all he became, was a sick joke. 
"It’s me, your friend~ don’t be afraid now. All I want is to help you.” A deep laugh erupted from him, as he slammed his side against the wall, slamming his fist against it over and over again. His laugh became intense, almost insane. 

He could feel the blood trickle down between his fingers and the crimson he so craved dripped onto the floor beneath his feet. His purple bow tie had become dirtied from all the years locked away. But he didn’t care. Why would he? This was his symbol. 

No one would know his name.

[Y/N] said, quietly, "Cassidy, hide here. Stay here, I will drive him away.”
"B-But…what about you…[Y-Y/N]?”
"I…don’t matter. Don’t worry, I’m strong. Just…I will be back, ok?”
The black-haired child could only nod. She wanted to keep hugging [Y/N], giving her desperate eyes, as tears ran down her cheeks. [Y/N] carefully removed her arms from around her waist. Their eyes met and she could feel the worry and sadness bubble in her chest. 

[Y/N] pressed a kiss against her forehead, and carefully climbed from underneath the table in the security office. She ran through the hall, to the other side, facing the other hall. He was there.

Only the animatronics occupied the stage. She couldn’t see any of her friends.

That was a good thing, right?

"Hey, you fat fuck-“ Spring Bonnie tilted his head to the side, the knife twirling in his fingers. He aggressively turned, his eyes flashing to the small child down the hall. "-Who tries to kill children you weirdo?!”
His voice seemed to almost glitch. "D-Did you just call me fat? You insufferable child!” He could only walk in that suit. If he ran, he could activate the spring locks. [Y/N] turned around aggressively and ran down to the area before stage. 

Before she could even react, she tripped over her feet. Of all the times- She felt someone violently grab hold of her hair, pulling her violently backwards to manage to grab hold of her head. They aggressively slammed her head against the floor, pinning her there with his weight still against her head. 

He gripped the blade, tightly in his hand, grazing it against [Y/N]’s cheek as he lifted up her head. He smiled beneath his mask. A massive gash was against her forehead where he had slammed her head; dried blood coated around the cut, as fresh droplets dripped down the cut against her forehead. She snarled. "Now, now~ No need to be so hasty, young one. Your time is near, but I have something…special planned for you.” 

The animatronics couldn’t…move. They felt frozen where they stood.

He let out a shrill laugh. "Good Gabriel…now he’s dead. A few stabs to the collarbone and head…well, it’s quite a messy affair, isn’t it? This blade may be clean, but it won’t be for long~ Tell me, where are the rest of your friends?” 
[Y/N] aggressively shook her head, as tears clouded her vision. "I won’t tell you!”
His smirk turned to a frown. "I am no longer as patient as I used to be. I expect a ‘yes’, from you. Who would care if you died? You are only a stain, a disappointment of your family.”

…

"I’m not afraid to die. I’m not afraid of you, or anybody.”

He spoke with truth. They wouldn’t care. 

"I’m scared of becoming like them.” 

Chapter Text

Somehow, all became silent as she stepped upstairs, the previous noises of amusement and good merriment disappeared completely. Just where had everyone gone? Whispers poked at her thoughts, staining them with darkened connotations reflecting her hidden memories. She stopped, her hand curling around the banister. Her eyes greyed over; she clenched her fist, her knuckles turning white. From down below, their hands wrapped around the banister, was someone watching her with worry.

Follow me.

No.

I…am your friend.

No no no no no…

It was familiar, this voice. It was deep, and wispy, laced with authority and something darker beneath. Something hidden, something…that would escape based on a chain of events out of their control. 

[Y/N]’s mind blanked. She couldn’t think of anything, or see. Sweat began to trail down her face, and her grip tightened the faster she lost grip on the banister as her thoughts were thrown out the window. She didn’t want to be here. She couldn’t be. 

Her breath seemed to stop for a moment; she desperately attempted to get any air back into her lungs, her chest heaving. She wrapped her hand around her chest, aggressively squeezing it, commanding her bionic arm to listen and attempt to soothe her heartbeat.

That voice sent her over the edge. It made her lose sight of her confidence, and her touch with reality. Did they have something to do with her past? The fragments of misplaced memories she had forgotten completely, or scratched out. A few, she could see, but not entirely. The memories of her parents were so clear.

After all, who could forget such trauma she endured? 

It always came back to haunt her at the worst time. 

"Fuck…Not now. Please…” She asked, desperately, closing her eyes. She felt someone’s hand wrap around her shoulder. She jumped and nearly fell down backwards until they caught her by her waist, and kept her straight. She blinked a few times and looked up to see the bright, yellow eyes of Foxy. His fangs were pulled into a kind grin, and his cheeks were flushed slightly with colour.

"Ye be alreet there? Ye nearly stumbled down the stairs there,” Foxy spoke, his eyes closing in a close-eyed smile (not that [Y/N] could see that, since his right eye was always covered by his eyepatch.)
[Y/N] blinked, a small, tired smile making its way across her face. "Oh, thanks Foxy. I…didn’t notice.” 
Foxy furrowed his eyebrows, not quite believing her for a moment.

Without a word, he placed her far from the stairs, guiding her with his hand still around her waist, so she now stood before Hugh’s office. With a wink (and laughing a little at [Y/N]’s flustered state) he raised his hook and unlocked the door to Hugh’s office. 
”Thought ya might need a hand, or hook.” He grinned. His ears swept back slightly. He looked quite cute. 
"How did you know?” 

He leaned against the door, perching his hook on his waist. He winked again which caused [Y/N] to let out a laugh. "Well, the others do talk. A lot. They be a loud lot, but they mean well.” [Y/N] shrugged, slightly knocking into his shoulder to open the door. "’Ey!” She stuck out her tongue in his direction. 

She stepped through the door, and walked towards the files in the back, labelled all in a row. One of them read the date of the murders. Her eyes locked on, and she opened it by quickly unlocking it herself, seeing a few files and documents stacked together. ”I must thank you, Foxy. You have been a big help with my investigation.” 
His chest rested against her back before she could register it. She turned slightly to meet his eyes, scowling. He asked, widening his eyes, ”Do I be gettin’ a prize?” 

[Y/N] crossed her arms against her chest. "You’re awfully close, aren’t you? Heard of personal space, Captain?” 
His smirk widened as the blush across her face darkened. He wiggled his eyebrows, and the look on his face was that of a puppy who needed attention. She was a little conflicted: she wanted to be on her guard, but Foxy was just too cute and…well, despite fighting with her insecurities, she finally decided in the end she did want to hug him. Maybe even kiss…no, maybe that was too far.

"’ersonal space? I be not aware of the word.” She really wanted to wipe that smug look off of his face. Instead, [Y/N] picked out the documents and files from the drawer she needed them from, placing them down in front of her. She sat down at Hugh’s desk, opening one of the brown files. The first page read 'The Interviews’.

It was dated a few days after the murders were presumed to have taken place. These were his interviews, not job interviews for his employees which would make sense. Each one had been labelled, and written over in red ink. His writing was aggressive and bled through the page like blood. 

“Interview 1.

After much wanted persuasion, Hugh Stevenson finally agreed to having a series of interviews. This may be for the best, or the police may find his behaviour to be erratic, and inappropriate.”

Well, was their wording entirely appropriate? For interviewers, they didn’t seem to like Hugh very much. Even he seemed to see that as he circled around “erratic” and “inappropriate” and wrote “twats” right beside them both. 

Foxy pressed his chest against her back, leaning over to read over what she was reading. She looked back at him, watching as he took longer to read than she had. Not that it was terrible that he took longer, but he needed to double check to make sure he read it over correctly. [Y/N] asked, slipping her phone from her pocket, "Would it be easier if I read it out loud?”

The door to his office was wide open…anyone could watch them, but thankfully, everyone seemed to be elsewhere. For now. 

"’Ah, do not worry about me. I just be a ‘ittle slow, is all.” He remarked. She tilted her head to the side, and indicated, with her fingers, for him to come closer. His ears pricked up, and his eyes widened. He lowered his head, and before he could properly react, [Y/N] pressed a kiss against his cheek and returned back to the file.

His face completely flushed with colour. He raised his hook-less hand to graze against his cheek. There was heat emitting from it, and he couldn’t help but stare at her with more love, and adoration than he thought. She made his heart jump out of his chest, to quicken each time she simply touched him or looked his way.

He had barely spoken to her and he was already smitten. She was just so kind, and playful. He could tell how much she did care, even if she hid it to the best of her abilities. It was very clear (she had shown it as soon as she arrived) she would be colder towards the night guards. It was unsure whether it was due to them being human, and alive, or the fact they weren’t her childhood favourites. Maybe it had something to do with the memories she refused to remember.

That was likely.

Was the murderer a nightguard? 

She took out all the files (from the interviews of previous employees, details on specific employees, or even his own bosses, to finances and other information) and took several pictures with her phone, tongue sticking out as she concentrated. 

At least her boss would be happy with her new evidence, but she was unsure how much of it could be seen as such.

"‘Ant to ‘ear a tale of the sea?” 
”Sure, Foxy,” [Y/N] murmured, turning her head towards Foxy, smiling slightly. She flushed and her eyes widened as his tail aggressively hit against the wall, a lovestruck look across his face. 
"…ye be a cute one. Ye be so pretty…”

"You’re a massive flirt is what you are.” 
"…can ye give me a kiss?”
"…no.”
"Please.”
"…Fine.”

Foxy got many kisses. Because he’s touch starved. 

Chapter Text

Today, [Y/N] was going to work at the Pizzeria for the night shift, but it was currently 10.37am so she was forced to work at the police station. Her coat was draped over her chair, which was settled against her desk. The investigator was dressed in a waistcoat, a white shirt, a black tie, trousers and combat boots (after sleeping back at home for about an hour before she was due back.)

A massive white board was placed in front of her with different coloured markers at the side. Pictures of suspects, with information written below, were linked together with red thread. She tapped her foot against the floor, biting at her fingernails.  

She may have to get her daily coffee from the coffee shop ‘Maple Bean’ in a little bit. She needed it to think. Her investigation, along with the new added photos/evidence, had turned to the cases of the ‘Bite of ‘83’ and the ‘Bite of ‘87’. These had taken place years prior, at one of the first Fazbear establishment, and the current establishment.  

Why had she gone back so far? 

One of the previous employees/bosses of Hugh (he had worked a few nights as a nightguard, according to the files) was named William Afton. He had designed and programmed a number of the animatronics, and those he had programmed had been those to cause the bites. They had also been showcasing violent mannerisms (which was understandable) whenever adults or children were too aggressive towards the animatronics. They reacted accordingly. But the Bites? She needed to look more into them.

Smith swirled his coffee around in his cup, feeling the coffee against his tongue. A coffee maker was in the cafeteria, with different types of coffee, along with brown and white sugar (as well as different types of milk for lactose intolerant/vegan officers). But, [Y/N] didn’t like the coffee from the police station. They preferred the same coffee, made the exact same way, from their favourite cafe. It was a routine they didn’t wish to break. 

The other police officers were either at their own desks, or were taking their breaks by sitting in the cafeteria and conversing with each other. Everyone else seemed to have a solid, platonic relationship with each other, except [Y/N]. They were a different case. They were distant, and cold towards everyone who spoke to them. They were only neutral towards Smith since he was their boss. 

Smith was worried for [Y/N]’s loner mannerisms. 

[Y/N] bit more into their fingernail, tearing off some of it by using their teeth. They placed their fingers in their mouth, picking up the bitten off nail from off of their tongue, and stepped towards the bin to throw it in. Hey, it was likely not pleasant to see, but no one should watch them do it, now should they? 

Plus, a cold stare from them was enough to waver off of any stares. It was best to dive into the Bites, and even William Afton. Alongside Henry…what was his last name again? She didn’t know. But, William seemed like the more interesting man she wanted to look into. With another sigh, they quickly picked up a pen, clicking off the top, and wrote, in scrawly handwriting, 'The Bites of ‘83 and ‘87’. She placed it back down to the side, uncoiling some of the thread, and stuck it in between them.

The investigator returned back to her desk, taking hold of the back of the chair and sat down. She pushed herself into her desk, placing her hands on either side of the desk. Earlier on, she had grabbed hold of the cases from 1983, and 1987 and had placed them to the side, beside her other documents and stacked evidence. They had a busy, busy It was strange to think they were only four years apart. Was it mere coincidence, or on purpose? 

From the other side of the room, whilst [Y/N] was busy at her desk, Smith was talking with a few of the police officers. With his cup against his chest, he began, "I was wondering whether either of you could speak with [L/N]?” 
The two officers exchanged looks, furrowing their brows. These two were Mark, and Clover. They had been childhood friends, and were as close as ever. They knew each other too well. So much so, if anyone ruined their friendship dynamic, they wouldn’t be happy. 

"Why?” Clover asked, the look in her eyes showing she did not want to have this conversation. "Can you not get someone else to talk to her?”
Smith tapped his fingers against the cup, tilting his head to the side. "And why is that exactly? I would like to know.” 

Mark and Clover exchanged looks again. Mark said, with no clear regret on his tone, "She’s weird, boss. She doesn’t talk to anyone and she just isn’t normal.” 
"None of you are normal, and yet I still keep you,” Smith warned. Mark and Clover both flinched from his cold, sharp tone of voice. "It is rude to talk about someone apart of your Team like that. Just try to have a conversation about anything.” Without another word, he walked away, so they were left to talk with [Y/N]. 

They stared at her for a while, watching her flip through the two files against her desk. The way she flipped through, tracing her finger over each word, was another level of concentration. Their stares reverted to focusing on her metal arm. Would it be an appropriate to talk about it? Probably not, but they wanted to anyway. 

[Y/N] opened to the next page, her eyes looking over the page. It was a photo of the Bite of ‘83: a child’s limp body hung from a golden, bear animatronic’s (Fredbear) mouth. Blood poured down from its locked jaws, most of the child’s head completely obscured. But, their head was almost completely crushed on the inside.

She read over the notes that went as following: 
The child, the victim of the bite of ‘83, has suffered numerous fractures along their skull. Their skull was almost completely crushed. Evan Afton was admitted to hospital, where they are currently in a coma. 

Update: Evan later died after the machines were turned off. The Afton family has a record of unusual deaths taking place. Elizabeth Afton suddenly disappeared and William Afton has been unable to give an interview on the matter. 

They turned over the page, effectively closing it completely. William Afton was definitely coming up more often than she would have thought. He was so, so suspicious. Didn’t take a genius to see that. Two (out of three) of his children had died from complications associated with animatronics (well, with Elizabeth, they only knew due to cameras in the facility).

[Y/N] placed it to the side, grabbing hold of the file for the other bite. This one was a lot less…violent? The victim had been Jeremy, a nightguard (now, who was a Dayshift guard) at her current work, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Mangle had been the one to bite his head, (there was no photo to show this) and had bitten into his frontal lobe. According to the notes, his frontal lobe had to be taken out to make sure he survived. Jeremy’s memories had worsened, and his emotions could change in a matter of moments. 

Due to being unable to focus on the cameras, and monitoring the animatronics, he was placed on the Dayshift. Mike made sure to watch him, and help him when he needed it. Of course, whenever he was "babied" as Jeremy would say, he would lose his temper. He had changed, (he may still be kind of shy, but now his anger had worsened) and everyone knew that. Still, they were friends.

"Hey, [Y/N]. How did you get that arm?”

Not the best sentence starter.

Chapter Text

[Y/N] tapped their fingers against their bionic arm, focused on the file before them. They had heard the question, thought about it, and now sat in complete silence. Her eyes glossed over the word, taking in each one, before shuddering without expecting it. The cold shivers ran through her body like cold ice, clasping at the fears she desperately wished to avoid. Her eyes glazed over, grey, tilting her head to the side. Her monitor was currently signed into, with no files or anything popped up. 

She applied pressure to her bionic arm with her free hand, tightening her grip around it to stop it from erratically slamming against the desk or slapping herself in the face. She took her eyes from off of her desk, raising her gaze to look from side to side. She could see everyone else watching them, to see her reaction to the question.

Sometimes, [Y/N] felt like a spectre outside of her body. Unable to stop her body from moving, or she just felt out of place, or not alive. It would first start as jolts across her body to make sure she was still alive, then, her bionic arm would move erratically without reason. She could never explain why it happened. 

Her arm twitched more time before she rested it against the table, clenching her fist to make sure it was fine. She was in control. She was not bound by any strings of any kind. She was in control. They weren’t. Not them. Her. 

[Y/N] flexed her fingers, grazing against the metal. It felt cold. She looked up, her eyes cold and lacking emotion towards Clover and Mark. They focused more on Mark, who had asked the question in the first place. She stood, placing her hands on either side of her desk. They both stepped back, unsure how to react.

The other police officers stood up and walked over, slightly, to get a better look. They had a feeling this wouldn’t be the most pleasant conversation. 

She was shorter than both Mark and Clover so she had to tilt her head upwards in order to look them both in the eyes. Her voice lacked emotion, but it was coated with something darker, "Could you repeat that?”
Mark could feel the sweat rolling down his face the longer her eyes narrowed through his. "…well…How did you get that arm?”

Without moving, or looking away, she said, ”I wanted to be a transformer, so I cut off my arm. Which meant they replaced it with a metal one. Cool, isn’t it?” 
"…” Mark blinked. ”What?”

Right now, jokes were a way for her anger to not spiral out of control and to be fuelled into violence. And she needed this job. [Y/N] stepped forward, raising her metal arm to be level with Mark’s eyes. She clenched it whilst maintaining eye contact.
The other police officers were unsure how to respond, so they just watched from the sidelines. Clover was about to say something, but Mark looked at her and shook his head.

Mark managed, "You don’t scare me, [Y/N]. You may put on that act of yours, but all you are is a little cat.”
[Y/N] dropped her arm against her side. She looked behind them to see Smith holding his cup to his chest. He shook his head. Oh, no violence today. 

[Y/N] said, "You must be the mouse then.” 

Well, that wasn’t [Y/N]’s favourite phrase. Or joke. Still, it seemed to affect him somehow. Since as she simply stood there with her arms crossed against his chest, he had to have several officers to stop him. So, he got written up by Smith because of it. It was a small victory but she felt like it would be even better if she could prove he could fight him and win. Nevermind that…

The investigator stuffed her hands into her coat pockets, stepping along the path towards her favourite coffee place, Maple Bean. Smith had told her she was allowed to go over to the Pizzeria and ask some more questions, or just look around. 

Coffee was on her agenda before she went to see the animatronics (and the Dayshift guards) who were too keen on invading her personal space. Sometimes she didn’t mind the constant affection but she also needed time away from physical touch. 

[Y/N] pushed open the door with one of her hands, pushing it more open by using her shoulder as she placed her hand back into her pocket. Not many people tended to come by, but it did get relatively busy during the morning. Probably due to students coming in to get their daily coffee. [Y/N] stepped towards the counter, and as her eyes met with that of the barista. 

They smiled, their name pinned to their chest which was ‘Alex’. They had short hair cut just below their ears, light grey eyes, a kind smile and had two piercings in each ear. "The usual, Mz. [L/N]?” 
[Y/N] took their wallet from their pocket, managing a small smile. "Yes, please.”
Alex soon left, stepping towards the side to pick up everything they needed. In the mean time, whilst they were preparing [Y/N]’s drink, [Y/N] picked at the fingers. 

She stared into space, being completely unaware of everything going on around her. Alex slid down the hot cup of coffee, and put the price into the cash register. [Y/N] picked up the coins from their wallet and placed them beside the coffee. Alex slid them off into their hands, and placed them into the cash register.
"Thank you, come again.”
[Y/N] simply nodded, wrapping her hand around the cup and leaving through the door. She at least had some time to be in her own zone. But…now, she had to go to the pizzeria. 

The walk towards the Pizzeria wasn’t too unpleasant. She had seen a few people walking along the opposite side of the street. She took a sip of her coffee allowing the taste to hit her tongue and infiltrate her senses. It was pleasant, and sweetened. It was a mocha, with two teaspoons of sugar and a splash of milk. 

The very memorable sign labelled ‘Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria’ brightly shone above. She took a quick glance to the sign, a small smile spreading across her face. Sometimes, she felt comfortable being here, as though she needed to be here.

Upon opening the door…she was immediately pushed into a cult circle of the originals and the Toys. She was pushed into the middle, as they all stood in a circle. Wait, where did all the children go off to? Maybe they were having a slow day.

[Y/N] asked, annoyance on the tip of her tongue, "What the hell?”
Toy Chica said with her hands on her hips, "You’re going to be one of the ones to judge the talent competition.”
Taking a sip, whilst maintaining eye contact, [Y/N] said, "What.” 

Chapter Text

[Y/N] laid down on her back, with the coffee cup still in her hand. The investigator had not moved since they had been pushed down. No children or adults had entered the Pizzeria. A few filed in from time to time, to get something to eat then immediately left. The prices at the Pizzeria were not cheap by any standard, but they were not extremely expensive either. It was a great place to take their children (and forget their existence for a limited amount of time) since the entertainment was made by talented animatronics, which was not rare, but not many establishments trusted animatronics to be the main source of entertainment.

Right now, Toy Chica was leading Bonnie, Chica, Marionette and even some of the Dayshift Guards to set up the stage. Chica had placed three chairs in front of the stage, with two tables joined together placed in front of them, with whiteboards and pens of different colours placed on top.

The investigator's back was against the floor, with their head resting against the floor. Their coffee cup was in their hand which they extended to the heavens, an annoyed look across their face. No one had been able to move them since they announced the talent competition. Mangle crawled her way over towards [Y/N], using her mangled, torn limbs to crawl. Her single eye pierced through [Y/N]'s, a smile spreading across her white fangs. The sound of the desperate scratch marks against the floor were enough to stir [Y/N] from her annoyed disposition. 

She turned her head to the side to face the white fox: Mangle let out a soft howl, and leaned down to place her head on top of [Y/N]'s stomach. Mangle nuzzled into her stomach, wrapping her limbs around [Y/N]'s arm to make herself comfortable. A smile made its way across [Y/N]'s face: they placed the coffee cup to the side, and stroked the top of Mangle's head, using the side of her hand to apply strokes. A deeper purr, a little glitched, erupted from her throat. 
[Y/N] cooed, "Aww, what a cutie you are, aren't you?" [Y/N] let out a laugh as Mangle nodded. "How would you feel if I fixed you?"
Mangle looked up at her, her eye widening. "You would do...that?"
"Of course."
"T-Thank y-you." Mangle's smile widened.

Freddy, Foxy, Toy Bonnie and Toy Freddy were watching the scene of affection between [Y/N] and Mangle. Jealously was bubbling in their chests and they could not remove it, or forget it existed. It was uncomfortable. Then again, human emotion tends to be. Toy Freddy held his microphone nervously in his hands, looking to and from the fox animatronic and the nightguard. He had met them, but, he wanted to know them more. Freddy was being a grumpy bear in the corner whilst Foxy patted his head (not that he was any better. He was also moping), and Toy Bonnie was tempted to pick up [Y/N] and steal them.

"...You think we could just, I dunno, steal them?" Toy Bonnie asked, his eyes not moving away from [Y/N]. He was definitely jealous and he wasn't exactly hiding it. 
Foxy looked down at Toy Bonnie, his brow furrowing. "Lad, just no. They ain' be no object."
Toy Bonnie rolled his eyes. "That is not what I meant. Do none of you want to hug them?"
"Of course we do, TB," Freddy answered. He purred as Foxy continued to pat his head. "But, you must give them enough time. You must give them space, and slowly, be affectionate. Not that Bonnie listens."
Toy Freddy added, which caused everyone else to laugh, "That is what we call touch starved."
"Lad, we all be touch starved."

Toy Chica jumped down from the stage and landed on both feet. She stepped towards [Y/N] and Mangle, placing her hands on her hips. [Y/N] barely had time to realise she was there before the Toy picked her up bridle style (they flushed with colour and Mangle let out a distorted whine) and plopped them into one of the seats.
"Can I at least have my coffee-" Toy Chica placed it into her hand with a wide smile. [Y/N] looked down at it and swirled it around in her hand. "Thanks."
"No problem!" The Toy's voice was perky and sweet. Well, she was a version of Chica so she shouldn't be surprised that much. "Now, who else is going to judge?"

Since there was little to no people, they decided to close slightly earlier.

"Can I-"
"-No."
"...You didn't even let me finish," [Y/N] said, without emotion but the fake annoyance was beginning to lace into her tone. Toy Chica simply shook her head and decided to choose who was judging instead of waiting for everyone else to debate it between themselves. The judging would be a score out of 10, where it would be written on the whiteboards then shown after the act itself. They could argue it out between themselves but that would take more time. Toy Chica chose Toy Freddy and Marionette to be the other judges. A few of the Dayshift guards would be doing an act themselves, or, they would just be watching from the side-lines. 

Toy Freddy sat down in the seat beside [Y/N], whilst Marionette floated into the seat. Toy Freddy smiled towards [Y/N], his cheeks flushing slightly. Why was he so nervous to be near her? He played with his hands under the table, tracing over his palm with his fingers. [Y/N] hit her fingers against the coffee cup before taking a last sip and placed it down beside her. She could sense Toy Freddy wanted to say anything, even if it may have been a simple 'hello'. It was a greeting, but it was a sentence starter.

Everyone had finished with the preparations on stage, and were now behind the curtain taking time to prepare. Toy Chica had a microphone in her hand, ready to announce the contestants when they were ready. 
Marionette was scrubbing the whiteboard with the side of his hand, humming a lullaby to himself. 

"Hey," [Y/N] began, smiling slightly as Toy Freddy jumped and faced her. He was still playing with his hands by tracing his fingers over his palm. "You're Toy Freddy, right? I believe we introduced ourselves before? I don't think we had much of a conversation."
"No...we didn't. It was nice meeting you," He smiled, the flush against his cheeks darkening. "We haven't had a new nightguard in a while. And you seem nice."
The compliment made her heart skip a beat, and she could feel the heat across her face. "Oh...thank you." The only things she had ever heard people call her were cold, distant, heartless and terrible. This was new.

"Right, judges! It is time for the first act, Freddy Fazbear. The original one," Toy Chica announced, opening up the curtain to reveal Freddy holding his microphone in his right hand. [Y/N] placed her head against the table, looking up at Freddy from where she rested her head. Freddy tilted the microphone: he began to sing, his singing voice deep, and as sweet as honeysuckle. Everyone seemed to be in a trance as they watched Freddy continue to sing: he was so talented, it was no surprise he was the main singer. Even Mike, who had been resting against the wall, looked up with an impression of awe. 

Freddy closed his eyes during the entire song. He was afraid of seeing their eyes on him even if he could feel them; after the last note, he took in a deep breath, sighing quietly to himself. His eyes opened and he stepped back in surprise to see all the sparkling eyes of adoration. But, his gaze settled on one person in particular. [Y/N] had a bright smile on her face, one he had not seen in a long time. Their beautiful smile, their sparkling eyes...it made his heart beat faster against his chest. They seemed so happy, so carefree. They didn't seem like they were thinking about their case, like they had a moment to relax.

They needed it.

All three judges slowly came back to their senses. [Y/N] was the last to return to the land of the living; she felt her cheeks, where heat had managed to flush across her entire face, reaching her ears. As she looked up, she met Freddy's eyes. They stared at each other for a moment until he smiled and she forced herself to look away, her blush darkening by the second.

They are so cute, Freddy thought.

Huffing to herself, [Y/N] wrote her score on the whiteboard. Toy Bonnie jumped from behind the curtain, to off stage and landed on his feet in front of [Y/N]. She could feel a scowl. He smirked, sitting on the side of the table, to lean over more against [Y/N] so much so his head was against her shoulder. Toy Freddy looked over to Toy Bonnie, a smile starting to form.

"T.B, did you not listen to Freddy?"
"Oh, I did. I just didn't care."
"I will bite you, T.B," [Y/N] warned. He took that as more of a promise, and, he didn't seem too affected by it. Instead, his entire face flushed with colour. Toy Chica scowled at the entire scene, and the Marionette was forced to stand from his seat and picked up Toy Bonnie quite easily by the scruff of his neck (Toy Bonnie whined) and he plopped him down on the floor, returning to his seat.
"Thanks, Mari."
"It is not a problem, [Y/N]," Marionette spoke.

After some time of debating and fighting, Toy Chica finally calmed down everyone enough to announce the scores. Marionette was the first to flip their board around and show the '9'. Freddy's smile widened he nodded. It was better than being below 6...he couldn't imagine how he may feel if that was the case. Toy Freddy was next; he fumbled with the board in his hands, juggling it from one hand to the other, until [Y/N] caught it, leaning closer to the tall bear (his face heated up) and flipped it around to show the '9.5'.

Finally, was [Y/N].

In the most monotone voice, as she turned the board to face Freddy which read, '10' with a terrible drawing of a ring, "Marry me."
"...What?"

Chapter Text

Without a change in manner, or emotion, [Y/N] placed down the board, placing her hands together. She tilted her head to the side, her eyes not moving from Freddy. She said, her gaze both unnerving and almost threatening, "Did I stutter, Fazbear? Marry me." The bear himself seemed to sweat and flush at her piercing eyes and the implication of a marriage? The very thought sent his mind aflutter. Plus the way she demanded it sent him slightly on edge...in a good way. Everyone else had varied reactions: Toy Freddy was staring between the two in confusion, Marionette seemed unfazed, Toy Chica was aggressively tapping the mic since her patience was running low, Foxy was laughing in the corner with Bonnie and Chica, and Toy Bonnie was pouting, jealous.

The Dayshift Guards were elsewhere, currently. They seemed to be always busy when the animatronics were up to something. Or, maybe they planned to be doing something so they were far away from them. The animatronics and guards didn't hate each other by any standard, but, they did not get along that well. They were all just far too different for each other to understand.

"M-Marry y-you?" Freddy managed. Toy Chica managed to shoo him off stage after stealing the microphone from his hands. He took his time to take his steps, and Foxy was the one to (after rolling his eyes) wrapped his arms around the bear's waist and placed him on the floor. Freddy blushed from the contact, and huffed as Foxy let out a snort. Cautiously, he stepped towards [Y/N], standing close to the table.
[Y/N] placed her elbows on the table, interlocking her fingers together. She placed her chin on top of her hands, a small smirk spreading across her face. "After the show, you can be my bride. How does that sound?"

"U-Uh...I...A-Am I not too...big?" As he said that, he stared down at his stomach, which was larger than the other animatronics. Whilst he was hating on his large stomach, [Y/N] had began to zone out, staring at the stage instead. She was imagining the large bear in a white wedding dress (or any coloured dress. He would definitely suite a dark blue, or light blue dress), with a veil. Her eyes squinted even more, all her thoughts numbing and disappearing completely. Yeah, her thoughts were not focusing on the fact she was here to solve a case or find a murderer...oh no, it was focused on an animatronic bear in a dress.

Well, she was showing her more soft side. A more vulnerable side of herself she did not expect to show to anyone. Why was that? It seemed so easy for her to do despite how cold she always was, always had been. How did it seem so easy with these guys? Maybe, just maybe, it was due to the fact they seemed so kind and warm-hearted. They had more emotion and character than some human beings she knew.

[Y/N] suddenly blinked a few times, turning her attention to Freddy who was grabbing hold of his stomach with both hands. He was squishing his stomach, feeling the rolls in his hands, weighing it. [Y/N] took hold of his hands into her own, and pressed a kiss against his palm. She looked up at him, her smirk widening as his face flushed even more deeply than it was before. She nuzzled her cheek against his hand. "You say that as though it's a bad thing, Freddy. Just more of you to squish." His entire system was overheating to the point he couldn't take it anymore; he slowly took his hands from hers and walked off to hide in the kitchen.

With an even wider smirk, she turned back around to face the stage.
"That was a little sadistic of you, [Y/N]."
"Are you implying I didn't mean it?"
Marionette laughed. "Of course not, it is the fact you broke his system with still a smile on your face. Would you like me to walk you down the isle, my dear?"

"Why thank you, I would be honoured if you did."
Bonnie asked, "Wait, is this wedding actually happening?" He seemed to be sharing glances with Foxy and Chica who shook their heads and shrugged. 
[Y/N] turned her attention to Bonnie. "If Freddy says yes, then I guess we are having a wedding."

In an attempt to move on, and for some, to forget what just transpired, Toy Chica announced the next contestants which were Bonnie and Toy Bonnie. They were going to perform together in a duet. Everyone turned their attention back to the stage; Bonnie and Toy Bonnie retrieved their guitars which rested against the wall. TC placed two microphones in front of them as they readied their guitars and quickly retuned them.
Bonne coughed into the microphone, so it created a high-pitched, glitchy cough which echoed across the entire room. Bonnie slammed his fist against his chest and rubbed the back of his neck. "'Orry folks, didn' mean for you to hear that."

Toy Bonnie rolled his eyes, positioning his guitar so it fit securely around his waist. "Everyone heard it, Bon. Probably woke the guards. Are Mike and Scott still here?"
"Nah, they left an hour ago. I think Frisk and Jeremy are still here. Need to watch us for a while before [Y/N]'s shift."
Toy Bonnie simply nodded. 
TC snapped, tapping aggressively on the microphone she held, "Could you two just start already? There's one more act after you two since no one else wanted to perform..."
"My dear, it is due to how we perform for children daily. I believe they just want a break from such a such a thing."

TF spoke, playing with his fingers, "Mari does have a point, TC. Everyone is tired."
"Except Mangle. Mangle only lays around..." TC's speech seemed to stop as she heard a growl from the broken animatronic. TC stuck out her tongue out at Mangle and stepped so she was further away from the two animatronics.
"Not like that's the only thing Mangle can do all day. Children are little shits," Chica said from one of the tables, where Foxy was drawing a small fox on her hand using a sharpie. She kept her hand resting against the table as Foxy used his hookless hand to draw a fox (with large ears, two dots for eyes and blush marks on either side) with curved features.

He stuck out his tongue as he concentrated on his art: Chica watched him as he drew a small eye patch on their right eye. The smell of the sharpie was too strong for their senses to deal with, so Foxy had to cover his nose with his arm as he drew.
"If Freddy were to 'ear ya lass, he wouldn' be 'appy," Foxy spoke as he finally finished his drawing. He clicked his tongue and his smile widened as Chica hummed happily, taking time to see the small, but noticeable details. From the missing chunks of the ears, to the small hookless hand. It was cute.

"I don't hate children but what they do to Mangle shouldn't be allowed," She looked to Mangle, who was whimpering and crying on the floor, curled up in a ball. Her sounds were glitchy and stopped altogether as she rubbed her head more into her side to muffle her cries. "Then again, their parents and guardians should stop them."
Foxy nodded, crossing his arms against his chest.

Toy Bonnie and Bonnie were finally able to perform: it was a simple guitar duet, with a few lyrics they wrote in. Bonnie's voice was deeper but smooth. However, Toy Bonnie sang some of the lyrics he wasn't supposed to, so the harmony became strained and Bonnie couldn't help but glare at him. After they were finished, they both bowed, and Bonnie placed down his guitar, his glare unwavering from his Toy counterpart.

Marionette was the first to flash his board, which floated just above his palm. It read a '6'. He told them their team work needed to be worked on, since what just transpired was anything but harmonic. TF rose his board, hiding his expression but lowering himself further down, squishing his stomach against the table. It read '6.5.' Both Bonnie and TB just watched as he continued to fall under the table. [Y/N] didn't hesitate and flashed a '7'. 

Marionette clicked his fingers against the board. "I believe it may be best to continue this talent competition another time. Perhaps on Saturday? We are closed then, after all. But I believe the guards still need to work during then."

TC began to pout. 
[Y/N] stood up by placing both hands on either side of the table. Everyone watched her dramatic stand. "I am going to fix Mangle, so maybe this should be postponed."

Well, it was an excuse to get away from this but she also did want to fix the poor fox. Everyone relented and let her leave (she picked up Mangle into her arms, who rubbed her cheek against hers) and watched after her as she left for Parts and Service. 

"...well, I guess this is over for now?"
"Still surprised you managed to get [Y/N] to be involved."
"More like demanded."
"Shut up!"

Chapter Text

The door at the end of the hall, or at least, what was obscured by boxes, sent her slightly on edge. The brown boxes, both large or small, full of party decorations, or drawings were placed in such a neat way it was a little unusual. [Y/N] furrowed their eyebrow. Surely, whoever placed these boxes (since this was a family friendly restaurant full of noisy, energetic children) they would have been placed in a hurry? Children tended to run around and knock over things. Perhaps this hallway, nearest to this hidden door, was completely prohibited for everyone except the dayshift and nightshift guards.

What about it irked them? Made them feel a sense of familiarity? Their curiosity tempted to bend her will.

Something about it tempted their longing; thoughts wormed their way through their mind, words of want and temptation stained their very subconscious, poison gliding across their tongue, staining their fingertips. A shudder, a trail of fear ran along their spine. They looked down as the feel of blood poured between their fingers. The ghostly feel, the blood staining her hands, was so sudden. It wasn't real.

No. It...wasn't.

[Y/N]'s eyes widened. They outstretched their arms before themselves, their eyes scanning over the blood trailing down their hands. A gasp erupted from the back of their throat. They erratically wiped their hands along their sleeves. Just why blood? Did she scratch herself again? No, a simple scratch wouldn't cause this much blood to flow.

On closer inspection, their other arm was flesh, not metal. They blinked their eyes a few times and the image of the blood, and flesh, not metal arm disappeared; their arm returned to normal, and all evidence of this unusual predicament must have merely been a trick of the light. Yes, that was it. Well...no, it wasn't. She was hoping thinking like that would make her feel better but it didn't.

"[Y-Y/N]..." The broken voice of Mangle glitched from below. Shakily, [Y/N] turned their head to the side, their eyes scanning the floor beneath. Mangle managed a smile, the sound of her exposed wiring sizzled. "A-Are you...o-ok?"
[Y/N] rose their arm and wiped away the tears building up in their eyes. They sniffed, then stuffed their hands in their pockets. Perhaps it was best to focus on fixing Mangle, not the (obvious) door behind the boxes.

"Sorry, Mangle. I must have been in my own thoughts. As of late, they seem to be an annoyance. But, forget that. My problems are of no one's concern except my own," [Y/N] smiled, starting to walk towards the Toy's room, where the arcade machines were. "Let's...get going. Do you need any help?"
Mangle's laughter was breathy and glitched. "I-I will be...f-fine." Mangle crawled through to the room, with [Y/N] at her heels. [Y/N] looked back for just a second to see a girl with long, black locks standing before the boxes.

A smile spread across her face, and she whispered, a wisp to her tone, 'Follow me, [Y/N].' Their voice was a mime. No words could be heard. The girl twirled around, her skirt flowing like fluid. Without a word, she beckoned, with one last smile and stepped through the boxes, to the other side. Was she a ghost or an apparition?

[Y/N] blinked their eyes, again. They shook their head and continued on, the thought on her mind. She wouldn't forget it. Maybe it would be best to continue her search on the other side of the door? 

Perhaps, her memories were coming back.

It was about time.

No one spoke. Just silence beckoned. The air was still, the only sounds, as quiet, and breathy as they were, was breathing. A shortness of breath awakened [Y/N] from their stupor. Their eyes blinked open, taking in the faint light from above. It flickered, highlighting some aspects of the room. The room was covered head-to-toe with birthday decorations and old drawings from Fredbear's Family Diner. Different coloured balloons littered the ground below. Before them was a table, with a white, three-tier cake with pink icing wavy along the edges (along with rainbow sprinkles) was placed within the middle of the table. 'Happy Birthday' was along the cake in curved writing. Birthday cards, party hats of different colours with white spots and presents, small, were placed against the table and a single golden bear rested against the chair positioned in front of the cake. 

In the shadows were five chairs on either side of the room, near to the table but were kept in the darkness. She could hear whimpers, and cries of pain. Thick rope was tied around her wrists, keeping her tied to the chair. She tried to move, and attempt to break free, but the burning sting around her wrists would not cease. [Y/N] withered herself in the chair until a voice spoke from the darkness.

"Heheh...my son used to love having birthday parties, with his friends, sister and brother watching. Along with my wife and I, of course. They would watch as he blew out the candles, make a wish and his friends, of course, would laugh...haha. But. When he died, when his head was caught in that bear, no one helped. No one cared. The candles burned, but his life? It was snuffed out. We can't just have that, can we?! Here are all his friends...one last time before you join him in death."

From the shadows, the man wearing the golden bunny suit stepped forward. The knife he held twirled between his fingers, the metal stained with crimson red blood, dripped and fell onto the floor beneath. His eyes blared from the mask he wore. Breathy laughs erupted from the metal, distorted and cold. The man walked along the room, until he stood in front of [Y/N]. His eyes glared through her own, and he couldn't help but cackle at the gash across her head.

It was some fine work of his. [Y/N] would surely be his favourite to kill. Evan had always liked [Y/N]. They had been fairly close, and had known each other since they were little. The notion of wanting his son to not be lonely after death, without his friends, was surely not peculiar? He spoke of them often, smiled about them, and laughed...

Very unlike how he was at home. Tears would stain his skin, dripping down and falling, falling, falling. How the scratches and the bruises were the things to cause his upset temperaments, and his self-loathing. The words, digging deeply into his psyche were enough to rattle him and move him into a state of woe.

But, one person, apart from his mother, was able to calm him down. That was [Y/N]. The person who lived next door. The child with borderline abusive, neglectful parents. They always smiled, and even had a fair share of her own words with Michael on his behaviour. Yet, even they seemed to have a 'decent' relationship. But, now was not the time to think of the past. 

His wife had disappeared with their eldest, Michael, somewhere. So, he had to grieve alone.

The man's knife lowered. He wrapped his hand around her hair and pulled her backwards, as harshly as possible. He laughed darkly at the grunt of pain which erupted from her throat. He slid his knife across her cheek, tearing her [s/c] flesh. Blood dripped down the scratch, along her skin, falling onto the ground beneath. [Y/N] closed her eyes, trying not to move an inch as the knife lowered, until the metal met her neck. The man let out a laugh.

It was mean and malicious. 

"No, you won't be dying quite yet, [Y/N]." [Y/N]'s eyes opened in surprise. How did he know her name? "That must have surprised you." The cold sensation along her neck soon left. He stepped into the darkness, his footsteps echoed along the walls. [Y/N] had no time to react before the man forced a girl with black hair into the light. She was also constrained against the chair.

"C-Cass...?"
Cassidy rose her head to face [Y/N]. The girl started to weep. "[Y-Y/N]...? H-He...got y-you. I should have r-ran...I'm s-sorry..."
"It...isn't your fault. I...this is -, isn't it?"
"...I...can't believe it. I...trusted him."
"We all did, Cass." She could almost see his dark grin.

"Aw, how cute. What a lovely reunion...but you will have another...in death."

[Y/N]'s widened. No scream escaped her lips as the man plunged his knife into Cassidy's eyes, ripping them out of their sockets. Tears covered her vision, and her tears rolled down her face. Cassidy's screams were the last thing she heard before she blacked out.

in the Toy room, Mangle had crept to the far corner, where a toolbox was kept, along with a few metal studs and screws. [Y/N] stuffed their hands into their pockets, and took a few steps forward before Marionette floated towards her, his smile a little wider than usual. [Y/N] managed a small smile, before it was replaced with a stony look. They just weren't in the mood, currently. The Talent Competition- despite not lasting long-had been the most fun they had in a while.

"[Y/N]? Is something the matter?"
[Y/N] quickly shook their head. 
"Perhaps after you have fixed Mangle, we could chat? No pressure, my dear. It might do you some good." [Y/N] nodded without another word and stepped towards Mangle. They crouched down. Mangle rose her head and moved it, resting it against [Y/N]'s leg. [Y/N] scratched along her chin, using her fingers to affectionately scratch along her white fur. 

Carefully, [Y/N] pressed down on Mangle's 'power off' button. Mangle's eyes slowly closed, the rumble in the back of her throat quietened down. [Y/N] placed Mangle's head down and gathered some of her parts she had found. She started to get to work on Mangle.

It took her a few hours to find the parts, and use the blueprints (Marionette believed they would be useful) to put her together. A few of the animatronics came and went, watching as she worked. Finally, after placing her head back on, and adding her bow, [Y/N] stepped back to admire their handiwork. The young investigator simply wore their white shirt, now stained by oil and stood with their hands on their hips. 

Mangle had both eyes, yellow. Her body was curved, a little similar to TC's, with a red bow against her neck. A long white tail, with jagged pink moved from side-to-side and her cheeks were blushed. There was no 'imperfection' in sight. Mangle, or Toy Foxy as she was, was returned to her previous state.

[Y/N] pressed on the button at the back of her neck. It may take time for her to wake up, but when she did, she would surely be pleased.

"Would you like to talk now?"
"Perhaps we should."

Chapter Text

[Y/N] stuffed their hands into their pockets, leaning against one of the arcade machines. Their eyes blinked a few times, trying to adapt to the light from above flickering in and out. It was one of those cheap lights you could get for a few pounds, so much to the point they would die by next week and would have to be replaced. Marionette grabbed hold of a teddy bear into their hands, squeezing its stomach, his eyes trailing across its body, focusing on the bow tied around its neck in a bow. Its eyes were unblinking and bright blue.

"What would you like to talk about?" [Y/N] asked, their eyes focused on the ground beneath their feet. Multi-coloured confetti littered the floor beneath their feet, the bright, shiny foil dirtied by dirt and dust. A few stains, possibly from pink paint, dribbled across the floor, now hardened from time. Marionette placed the teddy bear back down, beside the other presents to turn his head towards [Y/N], his eyes flickering to life.

"You seem haunted by something, dear," Marionette softly begins. "You have a distant look in your eyes, as though you see something no one else can." Marionette grabs the teddy bear once again into his hand and he floats over, towards [Y/N]. They glance towards him, parting their lips to answer but nothing can escape. Marionette grabs hold of their hand, opening their hand, raising her palm in their air. He places the teddy bear on her palm. "Sometimes you show a more gleeful side, and then, immediately," He pats her head, carefully twirling her locks of hair around his fingers. "You become indifferent, even distant. You can talk to me about anything."

It took her a moment to respond. They flexed their hand in their pocket, their other hand wrapped around the teddy bear. "I saw a girl with black hair. It was long, and she seemed to recognise me. She seemed to phase through the door, the one hidden behind boxes.

"You saw Cassidy?"
[Y/N] turned at the name. It sounded so familiar. It rolled off the tongue so perfectly. "That's her name? Cassidy? Why is it so...familiar? Why do I keep seeing her?"
"You knew her before she died."

"...What?"

Chapter Text

[Y/N] stuffed their hands into their pockets, leaning against one of the arcade machines. Their eyes blinked a few times, trying to adapt to the light from above flickering in and out. It was one of those cheap lights you could get for a few pounds, so much to the point they would die by next week and would have to be replaced. Marionette grabbed hold of a teddy bear into their hands, squeezing its stomach, his eyes trailing across its body, focusing on the bow tied around its neck in a bow. Its eyes were unblinking and bright blue.

"What would you like to talk about?" [Y/N] asked, their eyes focused on the ground beneath their feet. Multi-coloured confetti littered the floor beneath their feet, the bright, shiny foil dirtied by dirt and dust. A few stains, possibly from pink paint, dribbled across the floor, now hardened from time. Marionette placed the teddy bear back down, beside the other presents to turn his head towards [Y/N], his eyes flickering to life.

"You seem haunted by something, dear," Marionette softly begins. "You have a distant look in your eyes, as though you see something no one else can." Marionette grabs the teddy bear once again into his hand and he floats over, towards [Y/N]. They glance towards him, parting their lips to answer but nothing can escape. Marionette grabs hold of their hand, opening it slightly, raising her palm in their air. He places the teddy bear on her palm. "Sometimes you show a more gleeful side, and then, immediately," He pats her head, carefully twirling her locks of hair around his fingers. "You become indifferent, even distant. You can talk to me about anything~."

It took her a moment to respond. They flexed their hand in their pocket, their other hand wrapped around the teddy bear. "I saw a girl with black hair. It was long, and she seemed to recognise me. She seemed to phase through the door, the one hidden behind boxes." [Y/N]'s eyes glazed over, becoming distant and unrecognisable. They tilted their head to the side, a crooked smile spreading across their face. Marionette froze, uncharacteristically feeling a trail of fear run down his spine.

"You saw Cassidy?"
[Y/N] turned at the name. It sounded so familiar. It rolled off the tongue so perfectly. "That's her name? Cassidy? Why is it so...familiar? Why do I keep seeing her?" The name Cassidy felt untouched for a long time, as though it had been neatly placed to the side in her brain to remember when they could.
"You knew her before she died."

"...What?" [Y/N] aggressively turned her head around to face Marionette. The puppet master's smile became a frown at the tenderness in their eyes. He blinked his eyes a few times, tilting his head to the side. [Y/N] took a moment to recollect herself: Cassidy's face came to mind, her eyes bright blue and her black locks resting along her back. A ghost of her former self, her past almost forgotten. Perhaps their mind had lead them to forget in order to preserve their sanity and wit, to save how they perceived themselves.

...

They were there when the murders took place...or was their mind just wanting to believe that? After seeing those bloody images of those children contorted in grotesque ways, it was no surprise they may suffer from nightmares. It stained their subconscious unpleasantly, appearing in their mind- the eyes plucked out, the ears torn off- even as they shut their eyes, grasping for a moment of rest. But, they couldn't help it.

"She was one of the children who died here, who was lured to the backroom," [Y/N] raised their hand and wiped it across their face. A sigh erupted from their lips. "How could I forget about my own cold case?"
"Perhaps you have been stressed lately, and a little lost upon coming back to where you used to go when you were young. This must be confusing for you," Marionette begins, taking the time to watch as they stared blankly at the floor. "Do you remember Cassidy?"

[Y/N] clenches their fists at their sides, looking away to the side. There was a sense of familiarity as they thought about the young child, but their memories were vague, as though only a few droplets of their subconscious were melded together. There was still much to remember, and ones, which they had hoped to forget years ago, were best remembered, even if they shuddered at such a thought.

It took them a moment to talk. Their lips pursed together, opening their fist before clenching it again. Marionette's shock was immediate. "I need to go behind those boxes, where Cassidy went. I might...remember something." Marionette takes their hand in his own, softly wiping across their open palms with care. His eyes wandered to their metallic hand, a frown spreading across his face. 
"Are you sure you want to do this? It...will not be pleasant if you remember." His tone of voice seemed low, and he refused to look them in the eyes. Oh, he was definitely hiding something.

"Why do you look so guilty?"
Marionette sighed, taking in a long breath. Neither noticed Freddy and Chica standing by the door, listening in to their conversation. "Perhaps if us animatronics intervened...your arm, and those children could have been saved. I admit, dear, I was trapped within my box as though a sudden force froze me. It...was the same for everyone else as well. That...doesn't sound realistic, does it? It sounds stupid."

[Y/N] smiled slightly. "Heard worse. I believe you, Mari," The young investigator slips their hands from his own to slip them into their pockets. "I don't blame any of you. I can't even remember much." They look off to the side. "When I found the bastard who did that to them..." As they turned their head, Chica, Marionette and Freddy felt a streak of fear run down their spines at their venomous, dark glare. "I'll tear off each limb one by one as they beg for mercy." All of them gulped and feared even looking in their direction. Yep, this was the spitfire of a child they knew from back then.

Known for their temper and their physical strength across the entire Pizzeria.

A ping from [Y/N]'s phone made them blink their eyes a few times, before their glare disappeared. They patted at their pockets, then slid one of their hands inside of their pocket and grabbed hold of their phone and pressed on the screen to light it up. Several message notifications panned across their lock screen- which was of the childhood drawing she drew of the animatronics- from the same two people.

Reluctantly, they quickly unlocked their phone and pressed on the first array of messages. Immediately, their eyes narrowed at the numerous messages across their screen, sent one second after the other. Each one just made their anger spiral in their chest and rise from each message they read.

Birther

would you send me some money?
you have that job
what was it again
or else you won't see your brother
you don't want your brother to be left hungry do ya?
it would be your fault if he starved

[Y/N] slowly slid her phone into her pocket. She clenched her non-bionic fist at her side- her eyes closed before she swung her fist towards the wall and it cracked upon impact. Her chest heaved, up and down as tears started to roll down her cheeks. The wall started to crack, forming off like veins. Marionette, Freddy and Chica watched her with alarm: they could only exchange looks. Blood rolled down the cracked wall, trailing in-between the cracks, from her reddened, torn knuckles.

Before they could say anything, she removed her fist from the wall, ignoring the pain running down her knuckles as blood dripped down her knuckles; her eyes narrowed, snarling to herself. She twirled around, then angrily stepped out of the room, taking no notice of Freddy or Chica there, turning to the left and headed inside of the nightguard's office. Her body slowly fell down against the wall, scraping her back against it until she fell against the floor. It was best to ignore all the wrappers or torn up newspapers across the floor, or the obnoxiously sprinkled glitter. It clung to her trousers but she made it no mind. 

Her legs pressed against her chest and she wrapped her arms around her legs and hid her face. It was best not to show too much emotion on this type of job. She used to be in control of her emotions, even if she had received messages from her birth mother she didn't cry, didn't vent...it was of no surprised all of her repressed emotions over the years had spiralled out of control. She would lose her temper ten-fold. 

Her knuckles were torn up, bloody and reddened. She must have surprised them. She even surprised herself; the burning sensation of the cold blood rolling down her torn up knuckles was unpleasant, and made her flinch each time a droplet feel down and stained the ground beneath her feet. Tears rolled down her face, staining her cheeks with sorrow before they fell at her feet. 

Footsteps echoed across the ground one after the other, stopping at the night guard office's door. Mike leaned against it, with one hand on his hip whilst the other rested against the doorframe. His eyes blinked a few times, a frown across his lips. He combed his fingers through his dark brown locks, his light green eyes focused [Y/N]. Even if their meeting was rocky, he still had a feeling of empathy. He was worried, to put it lightly. He had heard the thud, and had shortly gone to investigate where the animatronics had told him about what happened. So here he was. 

His 'Dayshift Guard' cap rested on the top of his head and he used his hand to straighten it slightly. Mike's figure was a little 'thicker' than every other nightguard: he was both chunky and had toned abs since he tended to work out often. He had a big backside- which some people seemed to stare at often- and had muscular arms, alongside a few scars across his shoulders, thighs, and arms.

How the hell was he even supposed to start this conversation? He had lost his temper with them when they met since he...stared a bit too much at her bionic arm. He just didn't see it often, it was odd. But...cool. He wanted to know more but it was personal.

He pursed his lips. He spoke, "Hey...[Y/N]?" He flinched at his own voice. That was awful. Why did he sound like that? Did he usually sound like this when he was talking to other people? Ew. "I...I heard what happened. We all have our moments so uh...don't worry about it. We can just tell the boss it was me again."
[Y/N] removed her head from against her arms to look up at him. Her cheeks were stained with tears and her eyes were red and puffy. She blinked her eyes towards him as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Do you...punch walls often?" It was playful. He had already seen her in a vulnerable state so there was no point in being defensive.

He snorts. "Kinda, yeah. Never been the best with my anger." He tilted his head towards her, his eyes moulding with hers. He felt his heart skip a beat and his face blushed bright red. His eyes trailed over the tears rolling down her cheeks. There was definitely something going on to make her this upset. He wasn't the best with people (and he hated people) but he knew mannerisms well. "I started to go to therapy not too long ago for my anger issues."
[Y/N] smiles a little, making his face burn even more. "It's good to go to therapy. But, it's kinda expensive. How do you manage?"

"Blackmail."
"Huh?" [Y/N] blinks her eyes a few times, and watches him as he plops down on the floor beside her, hitting his knee against hers. She rested her knee against his. "Blackmail?"
"Yeah," Mike smiles. Why was he being so nice? Was it due to the fact he could understand? Had he been here before? "My dickhead dad pays for my therapy since he made me like this. But," He turned his head towards [Y/N]. "Don' have to explain why you punched the wall or anythin'. But, sometimes it's best to talk about it."
[Y/N] crossed their arms against their chest. "That's what Marionette said."

Mike rose his hand and started to comb his fingers through his hair, a smirk spreading across his lips. "Despite the fact he's a creepy fuck, he has a point. He acts like a father figure to the rest of the animatronics and Jeremy." He twirled his locks between his fingers, his cheeks flushing a deeper red as he felt her eyes on him.
"Why are you being nice to me? Last time we spoke I pissed you off."

"I shouldn' have reacted like that about your arm," Mike said, stuffing one of his hands into his pockets. He could feel the cold screen of his phone against his fingers, rivalling the heat rising against his cheeks, and his ears. He was unsure whether he preferred the warmth, or the coldness. He had never quite been this affected by someone before- was this what it meant to be attracted to someone? "It was an arsehole thing to do. I am sorry about that."

"Don't blame you completely. Must have been weird to see," [Y/N] says, flexing her hand before herself and flinching at the torn up skin. It was no longer bleeding like it was before, but the skin was enflamed and red. "I don't typically allow my emotions to show often. I was careless, and far too emotional."
"Must have been a decent reason you acted out like that," Mike said. "They said you scared 'em plenty from the look of anger in your eyes."

[Y/N] had never told anyone about their abusive, neglectful parents. She would have told Cassidy and everyone else if they were still alive today. Mike seemed to be- unless she was reading it wrong- suffering through the same trauma she had, or at least, similar trauma since everyone's was different. Perhaps she could talk to him about it? But the thought of talking to someone she just met about her grief just worried her. 

"I have a suspicion you got a message from one of your folks, both, or one of them is abusive," [Y/N]'s eyes gape wide and she turns her head towards him. He smirk widens, and her face flushes slightly. "Did I hit the mark?" The investigator didn't say anything but the look in her eyes showed he was right. "Sorry."
"Got angry since I received a message from my mother, and...let's just say it sent me into a fit of rage." She rose her hand and clenched it, showing the tears across her skin. A sad smile spread across her lips. "Which is how this happened."

"You left quite the dent," Mike admitted. "May I?" [Y/N] reluctantly extended her arm and Mike softly took her hand with both hands, carefully stroking his fingers along the tears in the skin. "We have a first aid kit somewhere. Scott likely knows where it is." He leaned backwards a little so his head leaned out of the doorway. "Scott! Know where the First Aid Kit is?"
It took a moment for him to respond. "Did you punch the wall again?!" Good thing they had closed early and only the Dayshift Guards and Nightguard remained. Oh, along with the animatronics. 

"Yeah. Where's the First Aid Kit?" 
"I'll get it." It didn't take long Scott to come along with the First Aid Kit, with one hand on his hip. Mike wrapped his hands around [Y/N]'s hand in an effort to hide the blood and wounds. "Show me."
"No," Mike said.
"...'No'? For fuck sake, Mike. Just let me see." [Y/N] simply watched them both squabble between themselves, before she turned her head toward Mike holding her hand in his own. He was warm, and his hands were soft. The blush across her face deepened. 

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Chapter Text

The past was a fickle thing. It could be broken up into pieces, fragments of memory either long forgotten or only just remembered. Memory may pass us by one day, leaving us to only remember certain pieces of information. In childhood, if we suffer through trauma and moments we would rather forget, the brain forces us to forget as we grow older in an effort to keep us free from tragedy. But, it always comes back. Whether we wish it to or not, it would come back one way or another. It blinds us, hurts us...we are forced to go through it once again, but we are older.

At least, that's what [Y/N] was thinking about. How fickle life, and the past is. They clenched their fists inside of their pockets, staring up at the sky above as the bright, blue skies allowed grey clouds to float slowly across the sky. They were wearing their coat over the rest of their outfit. They really needed to go and see their birth mother, in order to give the money. Hopefully she would let them see their brother. They stayed there, resting against the wall as they tilted their head towards their car at the front of the restaurant, a wave of fear coming over them all of a sudden.

One way or another, they would save their brother from their clutches. Even after several complaints and issues they had issued to CPS, no one even made an effort to get Oliver from such a situation. Which is what pissed them off even more. But, their heart was violently slamming against her chest from even the thought of going back there. Fear crept its way through their heart, tugging aggressively in an effort to coax them to lose their composure. [Y/N] rose their hand and grabbed hold of their shirt, twisting it in their hand as their eyes became blank, almost unfeeling.

"[Y/N]?" The familiar voice made her look towards him. Mike stood with his hands stuffed into his pockets with his eyebrow furrowed. "Something wrong?" They forced a smile across their face, the sense of their bionic arm sending a painful streak through their entire body. "Hey, Mike." They unconsciously traced over the bandages around their wrist, feeling the coldness against their fingers. "Just thinking."

"I'm guessing it has something to do with your shit parents?" He stepped beside [Y/N], slamming his back against the wall and tilting his head down towards them. [Y/N] puffed out their cheeks a little. "I thought as much. Somethin' to do with that message?"
"Yes," [Y/N] said, stuffing their hands back into their pockets. Should they even tell him? They trusted Mike enough to tell them about their abusive parents, but, should he know any more? [Y/N] didn't tell anyone, but Mike seemed to have similar circumstances. He...could be trusted. Hopefully.

At the very least [Y/N] would not tell him everything.

"I have to drop off something. Would you come with me?" They regretted it as soon as they said it. Even Mike turned his head aggressively to face [Y/N], his eyes widening in surprise. [Y/N] narrowed their eyes at Mike, watching as he slowly rose up his hand and pointed at himself. [Y/N] nodded, their mouth twitching. "Who else would I be talking to? You're the only one here."
"Hey, no need to be mean," Mike sighed as he stuffed both hands into his pockets. "So, how we gettin' there?"

[Y/N] rustled through her pocket and grabbed hold of her keys from her pocket. Her car keys were attached, adorned with a few keychains. She clicked the button and the [f/c] immediately beeped and the car lights lit up. Mike pursed his lips together and turned his head towards the car. "Oh, so that's your car. It's nice. What type is it?"
"...a car?" [Y/N] said as they both stepped towards the car. Mike rolls his eyes. She swung open the door and sat down, soon closing it. Mike opens the door to the seat beside the driver's. "Who said you could sit there?"

Actually, it was probably better for him to sit in the front. A lot of paperwork and cases (along with notebooks full of notes) were in the back.

"Jeez, you're mean." Was this...banter?? And the forming of a friendship??

Scott suddenly walked outside and he turned his head towards Mike resting his hand against the door as his knee rested against the seat. Said man turned his head towards Scott. Scott sweat dropped. "Are you trying to kidnap [Y/N], Mike?"
"What? No!" He turned his head towards [Y/N], then back to Scott. "Do I look like the type?!"
Both Scott and [Y/N] said at the same time, "Yes." Mike put his hand on his chest in mock offence, gasping as he stared between the two. Truly, he had been subject to betrayal. He would never trust again.

"Now, get your big arse into this damn car, Schmidt," [Y/N] said, their eyes narrowing at Mike who was still dawdling. Scott snorted. He crossed his arms against his chest, watching with amusement as Mike had to bend down to try to get into the car, putting his butt a bit too near to [Y/N]'s face. She angled herself away from his butt, hitting the back of her head against the window. "Are you doing that on purpose or what?"
He finally sit down against the chair, clicking in his seatbelt. He furrowed his eyebrow in confusion, his eyes trailing over her scarred hand and metal hand wrapped around the wheel. Then, his gaze followed up her non-bionic arm, and his face flushed at the sight of their muscular, scarred arm. "What am I doing on purpose?"

[Y/N] narrowed their eyes through his with their cheeks puffed out slightly. A flush burned across their cheeks and the tips of their eyes- the image of his butt was becoming an unwanted image in her mind. Not to say they didn't like it, but...god, they weren't good with emotions. And this was flustering them. "Nothing, don't worry about it." Mike tilted his head in confusion but he didn't say anything.

[Y/N] clicked their seatbelt in, and started to drive backwards, sending Scott a quick wave before they turned onto the main road. [Y/N] wrapped their hands around the wheel, keeping her eyes focused on the road as Mike laid his full weight back against the seat, his eyes watching [Y/N]. Their eyes were devoid of emotion, unlike how they once held a sparkle within after their playful banter. Their lips curled into a frown, and their hands gripped the wheel tightly.

It didn't take much to realise they didn't want to go to their parent's. He recognised the look in their eyes, and the way their fingers tore into their wheel. Fear was a fine advocate: whilst they maintained a angry demeanour as a way to preserve their defence, they were slowly showing off their fear. It shone within their eyes. Mike stuffed his hands into his pockets, watching the trees sweep by as they drove further along. The sky was bright blue, with light orange and red streaked across the sky as clouds trailed along slowly. The sun, in the distance, was slowly falling.

"So..." Mike began, his eyes flickering from the sight in front of him to [Y/N]'s [e/c] eyes. "Where are you takin' me?"
"You make it seem as if I kidnapped you," [Y/N] said, with a slight bit of amusement in her tone. "You got in my car willingly." Mike snorted, taking his attention on the road as the car drove to the right, heading down a road. Upon closer inspection on the buildings, a few windows were crossed over with tape, whilst large fragments of glass was shattered beneath, sprayed across the ground in smaller fragments as some pieces tried to cling to the window. Rubbish spewed across the street, ranging from bottles to food waste. The buildings were all similar with their red brick with glass windows and brown, wood doors. Abandoned and broken bikes or shopping carts were left sprawled on their side, wheels missing and metal left to crumble. An unpleasant mixture of rubbish, smoke, puke and weed clung to the air.

Mike took a glance towards an alleyway as they passed it to see a group of people huddled around each other smoking and taking something discreetly. Black smoke seemed to trail across the air. No judgement crossed his mind at the sight of this place, nor would he either. Poverty was a widespread thing, and it was hard to experience. "Nearly there. You can wait in the car if you would prefer. I'm hoping this won't take long."

The car slowed down and finally stopped in front of a small house, with a pale, red tiles and a dark brown door with missing numbers (after someone must have stolen the golden numbers) had the number scratched into the wood reading '34'. The windows above were completely missing glass, as it spewed onto the ground below and Mike swore he could see stained blood across the glass. Mike tilted his head to the side, his eyes trailing across the house as he tried to think of what to say. This must be [Y/N]'s childhood house- which was in disarray.

[Y/N] slipped their wallet from their pocket, and zipped it open. Their fingers trailed over the pound notes, tucking them to the side to look at the number across the paper whilst counting in their head. Yes, it was enough. A little more than they asked for. "I will be right back." Before Mike could say anything, [Y/N] opened the door and slammed it behind them, wandering towards the front door. They raised their fist and knocked it a few times against the door. [Y/N] took a step back at the sound of footsteps clicking against the floor inside.

The door slowly opened to reveal a middle-aged man with [h/c] hair, light amber eyes as his hair cut just above his ears. He had a deep scar across his nose and across his neck. He was wearing a white vest adorned with different coloured stains along with shorts that went down to his lower thighs, and his body was quite thin. A dark look emitted from his eyes. His hand wrapped around the door frame and his grip tightened. "'Fuck do you want?"
[Y/N] furrowed their eyebrow but otherwise, they were unaffected. "I'm just here to drop off this money, then I'm leaving." He didn't say anything but he grunted. He left the door open as he walked down the hall and through into the living room. [Y/N] could see the broken toys spread out across the hallway, and the holes in the walls. The walls, and ceilings had dark mould building up around it like veins.

The smell of weed and blood festered in the air.

A sudden sound from the stairway broke them from their stupor: they froze, before raising their head to look at the stairs. A little boy, holding a teddy bear (which was missing an eye) in his arms, was standing at the top of the stairs. He had [h/c] hair, light [e/c] eyes and a scar from the top of his eye to the bottom of his eye, along with a scar across his chest. A small smile spread across his lips for a split second before he heard voices and shuffling. He ran upstairs just as soon as [Y/N]'s father, George, returned with their mother. [Y/N]'s mother, Ruth, had [e/c] eyes, and strawberry blond hair. She had a unpleasant smirk across her lips. She was wearing a sweater with trousers. "How nice to see you, darling." Despite it being a term of endearment, it was anything but.

[Y/N]'s eyes narrowed in annoyance, but they swallowed any grievance. "Yes, quite. I have the money you asked for." [Y/N] stuffed her hand into her pocket and grabbed the money, placing it into the woman's outstretched hand. [Y/N] took another step back as the woman started to count the money in her hand, and her husband counted it over her shoulder. Her eye narrowed as her finger traced over the last pound note and her head snapped up at [Y/N]. "Where's the rest?"

[Y/N] stuffed their hands into their pockets and a small smirk spread across their lips. "I gave you more than you asked for. So, can I see Alexander?"
Ruth scoffed. "He isn't here, he's out."
[Y/N] frowned. "With who? He's five." George had gone back into the living room, casting his eyes towards the stairs to see whether Alexander was there. "Can I just see him for a moment?"
"No, sorry, he's busy," Ruth said, turning her head slowly towards the stairs. The sound of small footsteps climbing up the stairs soon was just distant noise. Alexander was terrified of their parents, and she couldn't blame him. Even after so many years, she felt herself shiver at even a mention of them. [Y/N] likely would not be able to see Alexander and forcing her way through the door wasn't strictly legal and it would just stress her brother out more.

[Y/N] furrowed her eyebrows, not quite believing that was the case. Their temper was slowly rising. "You are unbelievable. Why can't I see my brother? You agreed I could see him if I gave you the money, so why can't I? And don't use some shit excuse."
Ruth's eyes narrowed, and her fist clenched at her side as the anger shone in her eyes. "Don't talk to me like that." Her eyes trailed over [Y/N]'s bionic arm. "We are still disappointed you didn't die like the rest of those kids instead of just being left like that."

Tears started to prick at the corner of [Y/N]'s eyes as they clenched their fists into their pockets. It wasn't something new they had heard. Ruth, more than George, tended to tell [Y/N] they should have died that day, that she wished they had died instead of having to "deal with" a child with only one arm. Of course, Ruth never let it down. [Y/N] snarled, taking one dangerous step forward. "I wish you were dead." Before Mike or [Y/N] could react, Ruth slammed her fist into the side of [Y/N]'s face causing the investigator to trip backwards and fall over onto their back. Mike's eyes widened at the sight and he slammed open the door, running towards the fallen night guard.

A pain erupted through their nose and the side of their cheek- blood trickled down her nose, a sudden flurry of coldness dripped down her cheek and fell onto the ground below. [Y/N] could almost fell the bruises starting to form along her cheek. Their hands wrapped around their nose and blood started to trickle between their fingers as coldness and warmth seemed to mix together. "Fuck..." [Y/N] seethed. She was more caught off guard than anything. Mike carefully wrapped his arms around [Y/N]'s waist and started to help her stand until she was on her feet. His hands stayed on either side of her waist, as her head rested against his chest and she held her nose with her hands.

"Fuck, are you ok?" Mike asked. [Y/N] didn't say anything but nodded. Mike's eyes narrowed in anger towards the woman standing at the door. But, the door was slammed shut and Mike's expression melted away. He scowled. "Arsehole." Slowly, Mike lead her back towards the car and carefully helped her to sit in the driver's side as he slammed the door closed and got in the passenger side.

[Y/N] sighed, resting their head against the seat. Slowly, they removed their hands from their nose to see the blood. [Y/N] huffed at the sight of red as pain seemed to enflame her entire nose, and cheek. "Not the first time it's happened. They won't let me see my brother, even when I do give them money." Mike had suffered through abuse from his father so he could understand and sympathise. Mike stuffed his hand into his pocket and picked out some plasters. Without a word he picked out a plaster, sliding off the sticky plastic (before indicating with his hands for [Y/N] to face him, who obeyed) and placed it along her nose, as a cut had formed. 
"At least you managed to get out of that situation. But they're usin' you to get money by using your brother against you."
"Yeah, you're not wrong." [Y/N]'s eyes dulled as she swept her hand down along her face and sighed.

A kind smile spread across Mike's lips. "How about we go somewhere and talk? My treat."
[Y/N] tilted her head towards him, a small smile spreading across her face. "Sure, but you need to tell me where to drive."
"'Course."