Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

the emptiness in your gut somehow feels even hollower as your hands hesitate for a moment- amidst the adrenaline- of packing all your things. feels like leaving bittersweet memories and not all bad things behind.

you realize you have time. not much, but enough to get you a few miles away, in the opposite direction of anywhere you both have been. you wish so much this could have been different- that this wasn’t the choice you had to make. but when you’re so alone, really, what other choices do you have than the ones you make? your mind is so wracked with pain, heart heavy with the weight of decision after decision of how to save your own life. and finally, this is the one that will save you for good.

..for this moment you are frozen. but forcing your head up to at least look at the time, as a reminder, to how much you have left before he comes home. before he sees your face again and decides it would look better with some more colors in it than just the sweet blush of warmth in your cheeks. for him- he would never understand that…

you force your hands to move, breathing on hold from the tears caught in your throat. flashes of memories in your mind move like slideshows of film strips- you choke back sounds, like you think he’ll hear you crying and trudge into the room.

putting the last of the necessities and prized posessions in your bags and zipping them up securely, you stand, taking one last look at the room before slinging the bag over your shoulder, carrying the duffle in the other arm. the duffle wasn’t very heavy, but the backpack was concerning. you had no plan- of where to go, what to do. the only motivation in your mind was to get out, somehow. anything- anywhere was better than this.

despite the weight you know you can get far with the adrenaline alone- especially in the night, but time was ticking. you step over the doorframe, like a threshold being crossed- a relief almost instantly felt as freedom breezed through your hair, the soft wind of the night greeting you like the moon itself was saying “this way.”

so you follow it. you start moving, each step feeling like a victory, but at the same time you keep feeling eyes on you. you fear the car pulling up behind you so you pick up pace, not enough to tire easily yet. you knew there was probably a long ways to go, and the danger ahead didn’t quite settle in your mind- how could it when this situation felt worse than anything?

..

the woods outback wasn’t very dense. no clear pathing but definitely a better option than running straight through the neighborhood. you have to stop a few times to uncatch the duffle and your shoelaces from twigs, taking swigs of water to keep going. the further away the lights from the house got the better the weight in your chest felt, and when they finally vanished you felt like you were in another world. safe and far from harm. you’ve never gotten this far before.

you stole some of his money, so you could get by at least a little. it didn’t feel great to do that, but it’s the least you could do for yourself- knowing how much he didn’t care.

you glance down at your phone to check the time- it was approaching midnight. he must be home by now, you thought. you decide to keep moving until you were exhausted enough, and there was a place safe enough to camp out. the possibility of animals didn’t scare you in the night. for some reason that was the least of your worries. you keep trekking, the woods beginning to feel like a sort of purgatory, maybe you weren’t moving fast enough.

suddenly, you hear a snap in the dark behind you.

you stop, whirring around- eyes struggling to fix on the endless darkness you’ve already conquered. you feel a pit in your stomach at how vast it feels, the heat of the summer night teasing your skin like a ghost. the lights are so far now that it’s like they were never there, like the life you had never existed.

now you are alone, completely and utterly, in the dark.

was this really a better idea?

..

you start to feel tired, legs feeling jelly-like, so you sit once more, on a rotted out log near a quiet stream. pulling out the water bottle again you tilt it up to pour the last few cool drops in your mouth, closing your eyes and breathing in the refreshing night air.

when your eyes open again, the water bottle catches a light in the plastic, small and dim but very real. you lower it and look, squinting in the distance you see the floodlight from a building.

it’s only a few yards away, and very promising, you think.

to think that this was your next step, taking shelter in an abandoned building. what could go wrong here?

you move forward slowly- taking notice all around the building as the sudden openness of the lot was startling. no cars except for one, which definitely made you feel a twinge of something. not necessarily fear, but definitely caution. you move carefully and as quiet as possible, again taking in all the sights of what is before you- one blinking, fading light overhead illuminates the putrefying letters of the sign, “fazbear’s fright” as you gaze up at it like god’s personal billboard.

“fazbear’s fright..” you say under your breath. you think you’ve heard of this somewhere before. the name “fazbear” sounds incredibly familiar.

it doesn’t look occupied, but you can’t be so sure. you search around for an entrypoint.
you notice how decrepit the building seems from the outside- the exterior worn and clearly unmaintained- but nothing will compare to what you find within.

you find a back entrance door and try it, feeling that entering from the front would be too risky with the light shining on your every movement in the lot. to your surprise, it’s unlocked, and not broken, so you push it open slowly- peering into the doorway as you make your way inside..

..

you close the door behind you completely, and fix your gaze ahead while shifting to adjust the weight of the bags burdening your grips. what you see makes you feel so small inside, unsure of why.

you step in more, the black and white tile floor scuffing slightly beneath your shoes. dirt and debris coats the floor everywhere, old ceiling boards half fallen and wallpaper peeling.. every edge of the place seemed to be frayed and exposed. yet somehow some pictures and posters on the walls were left nearly intact- they showed characters of what looked to be robotic animals.

animatronics? you think. you remember visiting a place with those as a kid. it was for someone’s birthday party, a kid from school who invited you because they were forced to by their mom and dad. you knew the kid didn’t want you there, but it was nice their parents tried to include you in something, you realize now.

the smell was the real hitter. the scent of layers of dust, oil, old paint, old decay, something faint in the air of something familiar- metallic even. almost like blood. your chest tightens as the air was heavy with this, but also something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. you felt density, like something was filling the space in the room, but no one was there..

as you make your way through the room, trying not to step on anything sharp or memorable, you come to a hallway.

the darkness is so overbearing in this environment, you feel there is a reason to be on edge. so you peer carefully down it, trying to see if there is any hint of life or light anywhere. your eyes struggle to fixate down the long, empty hall- the intermittent creaking and metallic clinks overhead interrupting your focus. you notice a faint blinking towards the end of the hallway on the right, your mind beginning to race on what it might be- and who might be there.

you’ve already gone this far, and with nothing to lose you feel a push to seek it out.. curiosity in this moment is taking over instinct, something that has gotten you into trouble before.

but the only way is forward.

..

the hallway itself felt like a trap, like if you stepped into it the walls would close in. but you take your shot anyway, finally managing to climb around the wall, hugging it with your back as you make your way towards the glowing light. you step carefully, avoiding shards of glass and metal pieces, wires, wall padding, more so to avoid making noise than to avoid hurting yourself. this was something you learned so well in your old life, to walk on eggshells even physically.

you inch closer to the door, now noticing windows on the way to the blinking room. you take one more step- and your duffle catches on the edge of a piece of a broken chair sticking up, causing you to take a premature step forward, dropping the duffle with a considerable thwomp to the floor..

..

you stop in your tracks, the sound echoing like a cave. you brace yourself for what comes next, your heart picking up pace like a marathon runner realizing they’re about to lose.

then, footsteps squeak on the floor in front of you, a figure standing at the end of the hallway. you try desperately to see it- see them, but it’s so dark and you fear any light will draw even more attention to you.

there’s a silence for a moment, while the figure stands and watches you. you’re unable to tell if you should feel threatened, so you just stay still, feeling like a deer once again waiting for the call of the shot.. he says finally, with a lightness in his voice,

“who’s over there?”

you stand, awkwardly carrying the bag over your shoulder, staring towards the figure. you feel the weight of something all around you. it feels exhausting, pressuring all of sudden, you start to see colors in your vision while looking ahead- stars swirling like the pattern of some of the stripped wallpaper. the image of a face begins to spin and your body feels jittery, as your legs begin to collapse beneath you, your eyes slowly close as the figure makes its way towards you…

…

your eyes ease open, lashes sticking to sleep as your senses ever so slowly come back to you. the room feels unfamiliar.

you prop yourself on your elbows and attempt to sit up, dizziness instantly wracking the inside of your brain like an 8 ball knocking back and forth.

you groan and lower yourself back to the floor, noticing there’s something soft beneath your head. a pillow.. my pillow?

soon, your eyes fixate on the figure who was standing at the end of the hallway- a man, dressed in what appears to be a security uniform. you see him from behind, his arm stretched across the desk, the sound of soft clicks as you see the box shape of a monitor, flicking fastly through screens, cameras.. you think.

the glow of the monitor casts a greenish light on his face, his eyes darting to each box on the screen. he notices your groan and turns his attention to you, giving a small smile.

you look up at him, processing the dimly lit room and the figure you’re contained in it with. your eyes begin to finally focus on him. there’s something off.. about him.

you notice his skin.. it’s purple..

and as your eyes draw up towards his face, you notice a gape where a lot of his mouth should be. his eyes, glow a mysterious white light, and are mostly hollowed around the edges of his cheekbones. like, like..

someone dead!

he sees your face begin to contort out of fear, he senses it. this is something he’s so used to, so much so that he decided it would be best to stay away from civilization for good. he knows what’s coming next and he wants so badly to prevent it..

the look on his face makes you pause, but you still shiver in anticipation. you’re in no condition to get up and run, so why not hear him out.. .. “wait.. don’t be afraid.” he says. “my name is michael.” he says his name quickly, like saying something you perceive as human will force you to see him the same way.

“m-michael?” you repeat back to him, still wondering how you’re alive in a place like this. you gaze up at him in the chair, taking in his full form now. your stomach turns at the possibility of his existence.

he nods and smiles again. his friendly demeanor feels like a joke to his appearance, is it a costume or what? you wonder..

“what… happened?” you say, sitting up fully now, rubbing your eyes like you’re trying to make sense of being alice in wonderland. you look around the room, now realizing you are in a security office, with all the tech and sparseness other than you and michael in the humming silence.

..michael seems relieved, he exhales slightly as your subtle acknowledgment is something he’ll accept over any other reaction to him.

“you just fainted out of nowhere. your bag was already opened so i stuck your pillow under your head until you woke up. i was hoping you would wake up..” michael says with a small chuckle, unsure if it sounded too creepy or not to go through your bag. you look up at him and really study his face, your eyes moving from feature to feature, to a lock of wavy hair hanging below his ear, to the empty hollow of his cheek.. you’re.. intrigued.

but you feel sick, all at once. you manage with a smallness in your voice, more uncaring of your own condition, “what happened to you?”

michael shifts in his chair, the weight of memory heavy on his shoulders so much it makes him slouch forward, palm on his chin on the chair arm. “it’s.. a long story.” he says, glancing back at the monitor then back at you. “basically i’m not really alive, but i’m not really dead either.”

you consider it, but your body moves before your mind can choose. as you move to your knees, using your hand to push yourself up and off the floor. the rush of blood to your head makes you stagger to your feet, the room beginning to spin and swirl again with the same face as before, but now it looks twisted and grotesque..

..michael sees you beginning to lose balance again and stands up quickly, reaching towards you to keep you from falling. he holds you steady, gripping your arms carefully, awkwardly.. like a waiter about to drop all of his trays, while watching your eyes to be sure there’s still life in them.. his worry is resolved when your eyes stop spinning and fix back onto him.

you’re so close to him now, that you can absorb what he means by “alive but not really”. his skin isn’t soft or warm like yours, but it retains some essence of life within.. his grip on your arm feels nice.. not tight, like there is care put into the way he’s holding you. but you are frightened by the reason for his image, not for the image alone.

“you really don’t seem okay yet, uh.. are you hungry, thirsty? why do you keep getting dizzy..” michael mutters the last part almost to himself, like even he knows something about this isn’t normal.

you feel a sense of warmth attempting to overpower the sick feeling inside your chest. something about this place isn’t right- you know it, but you feel inexplicably drawn to this new friend.. maybe you’ve only known him a few minutes, or hours, but for once in your life you feel seen by someone- a hope of connection, to this person with a shaky past unbeknownst to you.

you simply look at him, feeling the burdens you’ve carried so far melt into his hands that are embedded into your skin.. your eyes feel tired again, and you let yourself fall into his arms. he wasn’t completely ready for this gesture but he makes the most of it as he can, holding his arms gingerly around your body in a relaxed, quiet embrace..

in this moment, you swear you can feel all of his burdens as well, you feel he’s carrying so much more than you’re aware of right now- and you hope you aren’t going too far with this.. but with your exhaustion, emotionally, physically, you feel he is the safest place to be right now..

the only sounds are the buzzing of the light and humming of the computer monitor, the breath and simulated breath of two intensely broken figures. your body feels such a release that you begin to shake slightly under michael’s shelter.

“i.. i’ve been alone for so long…” you say, voice quivering slightly- ignoring the odd, leathery feeling of his collarbone against your cheek. you press into it more, your fingers beginning to grip the back of his uniform.

don’t let me go.. you think. how is this so perfect, in that it’s everything you’ve ever needed right now?

michael swallows, looking down at you leaning into him- all of this touch he’s so unfamiliar with, he feels something where his heart should be. a fullness that is always overpowered by despair, agony, guilt beyond measure. he feels a strange peace in this moment, but confusion- as to how someone so.. sweet, innocent- could look at him with such a look it could melt the remnant right out of his aching body..

michael mutters with a sigh, “yeah, tell me about it..” but he looks at you, feeling all of this warmth radiating against him and he feels like he can’t move. he doesn’t want to move. the gesture feels so genuine, he can feel your soul buzzing alongside the children’s inside his..

you press your chest into his uniform, feeling your nipples rub over one of his ribs underneath your thin shirt.. the feeling sends electric through your body, so a small sound escapes your lips while your face is buried in his neck. michael doesn’t know how to react, not fully. he’s used to being the one breaking down- alone, while his father may only be feet away from him.

but does he really deserve it.. all this affection?

the sound of your heartbeat pounding against his exhausted ribs- the silence of the room causes him to try to feel it, really feel it, like a subwoofer vibrating his whole body. but he can also feel your pain.. and it forces him to say something else to recuperate.

“you know, i haven’t had a relationship uh.. ever actually. but is this.. what it feels like to have someone like you?”

you pull your head away from his neck and look into his eyes, those glowing, eerie things.. you feel sad when you look in them. you ache, so much it distracts you from your own ache.. that’s why you’re hooked already. not only that, but something about michael is so pure.. that he is so lonely he overlooks the faults in you.. it distracts from his own pain as well.

you smile at him, really smile, your cheeks flushed with tears. “i think so.. i don’t really know either. i thought i did, though.” you say, carefully planning the words so not to sound too suspicious, but it already does. you look down in a silent reverie, but shudder trying to remove those thoughts from your mind, the recent past…

michael blinks, and feels himself smiling at you, the overwhelming joy before him that is you, that he’s not so sure he’s deserving of. he wonders what you mean, though. “you thought you did?” he furrows a brow, you both loosen your grip a little on each other now, still close but the emotion has calmed a little, and now that you can stand on two feet on your own.

“it’s a long story,” you say, laughing to yourself.

Chapter Text

after that small moment of bliss with a stranger, you feel a bit naive.

you know you are, but he feels different. you can’t deny the feeling..

you and michael stand in the room, the soft hum from something in the air still hanging over the both of you.. you wonder if this has anything to do with how you’ve felt since you got here. the dizziness, the strange faces..

you’ll find out soon enough.

you notice your bag on the floor with the duffle, and shift your eyes back to his. “thank you for saving my stuff.. it’s all i have left.”

he nods. “so you.. ran away? and you came here- i need to know why you’re okay with being in a place like this..” michael says, looking at you, skeptically.

“yeah. i’ve tried to before but i always got caught. not by the police, but by..” you trail off, not wanting to recall his name. “um, and i don’t know.. because you’re here?” you say, giving him a smile.

michael doesn’t know how to react to your statements about him. he’s thinking again about your reaction to the truth.

“i wonder if you’ll still believe that when i tell you about.. this.” he says, gesturing to the room.

“i’m sure i will,” you reassure him. what truth could be worse than that of your own broken life?

you correct yourself, “i knew there was someone here when i saw the car.. i didn’t know it would be you, but i’m glad it was.” you say, adding “you’ll have to tell me how you got like.. that.” you say softly, hoping not to offend him.

he smiles, but looks down at himself- somewhat shamefully, just in the fact that he feels so exposed with you there. a complete stranger setting foot into his cursed domain.. he’s unsure if you’ll really find this way of life any better than your old one.

..

you move to grab your backpack, setting it on the floor near the desk. you sit in a chair next to where he usually sits- flipping away at those cameras.. you think. you wonder what they’re for, since there’s hardly any movement anywhere on them.. that you could see, anyways.

michael stands where you were, watching you at his desk with his arms folded across what’s left of his chest.

he leans against the wall and observes you, starting to dig around your bag until you pull out some things..

..some unexpected things, he thinks. he wasn’t sure how you got here, all alone, with all this physical weight and no weapons to defend yourself. he thinks you’re going to pull out something more useful for survival, but alas, you have other plans.

sliding out of the bag you hold a shiny glass figure, almost vase-like- followed by a lighter and a grinder. michael’s eyes dart to the objects.. he knows what they are but he’s never partaken.

“…a bong.. really?” he snickers, nearly in disbelief.

you lift the piece up. it was about a foot long, a classic beaker without percs. a purple mouthpiece big enough to fit your mouth in..

you look up at him and nod with a small smile, feeling slightly ashamed.. you feel a need to explain yourself.

“it’s gotten me through a lot..” you start, placing the bong in your lap. “it’s almost like it’s my best friend, now.” as you pick the bowl out of it to fill with the sweet flower, you’re nervous about his reaction to that. and you realize how pathetic that sounds.

he watches you move your hands with routined care- placing the bowl back into the piece, filling it with water, picking up the lighter, a purple one.. how fitting.

 ..

you prepare to take the hit, looking up and around the room beforehand, taking in all the sights, including michael. he stands there in anticipation, a look on his face that seems to ponder this.. act. he starts tapping his foot.

“you can try it, if you want..” you say, voice low, so not to upset him. you don’t know his feelings about things like this but you take your chances anyways.

michael shakes his head, “not yet.. i’ll watch you first.” he says, carefully. he’s nervous about how it could affect him. who knows how this would affect the remnant in him? would it be painful? or would it.. ease the pain?

you nod and bring the bong up to your mouth and lighter to the bowl. “watch closely, michael..” you say, admiring the sense of control you seem to have right now.

funny, the only control you have, involving the drug about to flow through your blood. about to taste the sweetness of pot, you’re excited at how this will make you feel with him in the room..

  ..you flick the lighter, drawing in slowly. michael watches the smoke fill inside the bong as you inhale, allowing it to get milky inside. you pull your mouth away, inhaling completely, holding slightly- then exhaling the smoke, so much smoke.. into the dimly lit, dingy room. you set the piece back on the desk with the lighter, turning back to face him. the smoke hangs in the air like a dreamy blanket between you both.

you feel yourself basking in the aftermath of inhaling what felt like an internal embrace..

your eyes begin to redden and go half lidded.. body flushing with a reddened warmth michael is startled by. he notices your features, sweat forming on your skin, on your chest, your neck.. as you let a few coughs out, barely.  

..your vision begins to blur slightly, happily, as you slip into the trance. michael becomes a bit out of proportion, the room as well.. to you, pot is a potent psychedelic, and that’s partially why you love it so much. how surreal everything feels when you experience it. you don’t want this moment to feel unreal, no, but you wanted to enhance it, especially the effects in your body..

the tingling comes soon after, your limbs beginning to radiate with a familiar heat. you half expected to have a bad trip, thinking the atmosphere of the room alone was enough to cause it, but you’re pleasantly surprised.

michael watches as you appear dazed, not the same as when you were about to pass out- a different, more gleeful-seeming haze that is beginning to spread to him.

he watches closely- slightly confused, just because he doesn’t understand the effects. why you are acting differently now.. you just gaze at him like he’s the most beautiful, interesting thing in the world.

you giggle while scanning his body, your eyes resting on his security uniform tag- the name “mike” stitched into the worn fabric. for a moment, you wonder what he looks like underneath that uniform.. is it anything like you’re imagining?

he feels your eyes settle over him, you taking in the morbid sight of your current reality. sitting in a rickety chair, legs swinging back and forth, the scent and sights of the place not fitting at all with the feelings you’re having.  

something about it feels so great, beyond words, the pot is making you a bit too trusting..

“..why are you laughing?” michael asks, his jaw tightening slightly, almost concerned that now you’ll be even more unable to help yourself.. or wondering if this stuff is a serum of sorts and now you’re realizing how ugly he really is.

you lean back in the chair and cover your mouth to laugh more. your body feels so many sensations, you love seeing michael’s face in this situation.. how he really has no idea what to think.

“michael, you’re… really cute.” you say finally, smiling up at him. you feel warm and begin to shake giddily at him, all this energy rushing through- you feel you can’t stop it, and you don’t really care if he judges you for it. you’re falling hard, and it only makes sense.. how you were all alone, yet are now seemingly more vulnerable in this sketchy setting. you love this- not a care in the world- unknowingly, with one of the most isolated people to exist…

michael stares at you in disbelief, he brings a hand to run through his hair- to make understanding of this. “is that you or the pot talking?” he asks, genuinely curious.

here he is, on a regular-as-can-be night shift, but nothing normal is occuring this particular night. and not even the usual, abnormal things that happen at fazbear frights.. something fun. something to break the monotony..

he thinks about the pot, how innocent it seems- the green leaves speckled with kief, like fairy dust. he observes you in this state, for a moment forgetting his past. he hasn’t felt this content in a long time just having you to entertain him.

..

you look at him, the colors in the room pulsating with feeling, almost more intense than you imagined. you want him to feel this with you.. you can feel how much he needs it.

“i mean it, so much..” you say, looking back to the piece on the desk. “do you want to try it now?” you ask, turning now to face the desk and pick the bowl into a nearby ashtray.

michael steps forward, closer to the desk- glancing at the monitor to see there was no movement on the camera. he stands next to you while you pack the fresh flower into the bowl, carefully.

he notices you put a lot less inside than your hit. “start small. since it’s your first time.” you say, preparing his hit. you hand out to him the lighter and the bong, in both of your hands.

he stands there, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. with a murmur, low and quiet, he admits, “i’m.. nervous.”

you gesture him to sit, and he does. right next to you, your knees close to touching. you move so your leg brushes his, and then further, the length of your leg fully against his. you love his touch- even if it lacks warmth, it’s real, it’s there.. it’s not painful, it’s not threatening. just there.

he watches you pick up the bong again, bowl loaded and ready. “here, i can hold it for you if you want.. if that feels better.” you say softly, hoping he’ll appreciate the gesture.

he nods slowly, taking the lighter from your other hand, glancing down at it briefly to note its color. he scoffs, “you weren’t planning all this were you? just seems too good to be true..”

you frown slightly that he suggested that, almost like he feels like he’s the one dreaming all of this up. “no.. i just like purple. good thing right?” you say with a smile.

he meets your gaze for a moment, then fixates back onto the journey in front of him, taking a deep breath in and out- allowing you to hold the stem gently up to his mouth. “you ready?” you ask.

he nods, “let her rip.”

no going back now. he’s decided. he wants to feel what you’re feeling. laughing, something he hasn’t really done much in his life. except when it was at the expense of another..

 ..

he lights the bowl, the fire beginning to burn through the plant matter- michael inhales slowly like you did, glancing down at your fingers wrapped around the glass,  turning that milky white.. then back up at you, the light of the fire illuminating your faces in the dark.

you pull the bong away from his lips, returning it to the desk. waiting to see the result of him joining you on cloud nine.

he coughs of course, that’s to be expected. he sits back in the chair, that feeling of an overwhelming first-time high spreading over his ribs, up through his spine and settling into his mind. he feels dizzy at first, feeling sweat gather under parts of his uniform.

you notice this, slightly concerned, knowing he was something other than fully human.. but you rest assured that sweet pot will not hurt your new friend..

he groans a little, from the coughing- his chest definitely experiencing uncomfortability from the combustion. more than maybe someone usually would, due to the additional souls that sit restlessly, invisibly inside him. he’s hoping this will take the edge off of that.. maybe.

you wait in anticipation, not realizing in your high haze that you’ve been staring at him so intensely. you put your hand on his knee, instinctively, gently.

he glances out the windows behind you out of instinct, aware now that your back is facing the entrance to the office. “we should close the door.” he says, noticing it had creaked open during your interaction. he gets up to close and lock it, then back to the chair with the monitor at the desk, sitting next to you, facing you so he can get a good view of the windows and the monitor to his right.

michael feels strange. he tries to fixate on your face, but the room feels wavy. looks wavy.. the image kind of shifting back and forth. the colors, what colors there are.. in the musty office are illuminated slightly, the eerie, sickly green appearing almost like a forest against the backdrop of decay and buzzing tech. again, things seem to feel vibrant, he eases into the feeling a little more now..

“just try to relax..” you say, quietly, as if talking too loud will overstimulate him. he processes what you say, but reacts internally.

relax, sure.. here? he thinks. he turns his head to check the monitor again, the screen blurring into a buzzy, pixelated jumble of images.

his hands sit in his lap as you put your hand on his this time. you pull your chair closer to him, your legs sandwiched between his. “i’m here with you, michael..”

“i know you are.. it.. feels good.” he says, repeating waves of calm washing over him as his chest buzzes with light. your words reassure him in a sea of uncertainty. he knows it feels good but he still feels every perception change- the time slowing, the paranoia, which settles slightly. but he still keeps watch, knowing he’s not all there like he usually is, and with what lurks around the building..

your heart warms to his statement. someone feels good about you.. that you’re here, fully present with them.. well, mostly. even if he is technically undead, there’s something endearing about it. about the way he treats you with benevolence and with such ease.

michael doesn’t feel the urge to laugh yet, as he feels more cautious than relaxed. he knew some part of this was a bad idea, but so far he likes the feeling in his body. the calm, the tingling, the heavy beat where his heart should be. he feels a little more human. a little more like you…

you notice his eyes waver so you lean in closer, your face only inches away from his now.. you notice the glint of sweat on his face, the increase in pace of his breathing, the light in his eyes glowing still but dimmer now, maybe this was his version of red eyes..?

a smile tugs at the corner of his twisted mouth. “your face.. looks so..” he starts, noticing the softness of your features, skin.. tender and alive. what did he do to deserve you? he’s terrified, deep down, of your reaction if he tells you everything.. it’s something that will happen at some point. he can’t keep the secret of this place away from you forever.

he decides to forget about that.. for a while..

you lean in so your foreheads are touching now.. you giggle at his “closeface.”

he feels the heat of you- he feels like he can sense your energy radiating through a bridge in your foreheads. it’s a fluttery euphoria that dances alongside paranoia. he still can’t fully submit to the good sensations, still needs to be aware of the danger..

but you are consuming his vision now.

your eyes begin to flutter shut, body moving by your heart’s choice- feeling your lips brush his, a multi-textural sensation of flesh and bone you gladly receive. his eyes remain open at first, but as he notices the peace in your expression, he feels his eyelids slowly fall, the haunting state of the room disappearing into the back of his mind..

a part of him still can’t believe this is real. the high definitely makes it harder to believe.

the blush in your cheeks brightens in his mind’s eye as he opens his own again to see you, to witness the moment. your eyes still closed, you pull off his mouth slightly, tasting fresh pot breath and a thin line of spit connecting you both.. you lick your lips, post-kiss. he does the same, as if it will bring your essence even closer somehow..

you’ve never felt a kiss so gentle.. and meaningful in your life.

michael’s never known a kiss until now, and he feels a sense of fulfillment he’s never known to exist.. until you.

then you see michael’s eyes widen, suddenly transfixed on something else behind you..

Chapter Text

“great, of course he had to ruin that,” michael mutters- sitting back in the chair, shaking his head at the thing behind you.

you turn in the chair, arm draping over the back of it. what you see, you can’t explain it, but so many feelings swirl around you at once.. not just due to the pot. something deep and yearning, a void in your heart that’s been missing something since you were a small child..

something, paternal..

your eyes widen as you take in the sight more in your stoned mind.. a hulking metal mass of rotting yellow rabbit.. it stands tall, near the top of doorframe, it’s.. an animatronic. but not any sort of happy, kid-loving animatronic like you saw in the posters earlier- immediately, the sight of it halted you, but the feeling of fear- feels fuzzy, as you stare at this juxtaposed horror before you.

its glowing, flickering eyes lock onto you, seemingly enjoying the look on your face..

michael sees you looking in mortified awe at his father. he was hoping he wasn’t going to have to explain the family drama so early on, but alas, here he is.

you slowly rise to your feet, stepping closer to the creature on the other side of the glass.. you press your hands against it, gazing right up at its face, full of intrigue..

michael watches you in a hopeless state, the high still occupying his mind as he was still processing that kiss..

that kiss where you felt something lift from your chest. some burden, that maybe he ended up acquiring. but he also gained, for what felt like the first time in his life- a feeling of love.

not just for you.. but for himself, only slightly. michael still has a ways to go in forgiving himself.. and a near impossibility of forgiveness for his father. forgive him for what, for indirectly killing his daughter, for being so engrossed in himself that he couldn’t care to really, truly pay attention to them in vital moments of their development?

for even having a favorite child in the first place?

..

“who is this, michael?” you say, looking back at him, its unnatural, mechanical eyes still watching you closely.

“that’s uh.. that’s…” he starts, “please don’t run away.” he looks at you with despair in his somber eyes.

“william. my name is william,” the creature speaks, low and gruff, slightly muffled through the glass. its appearance was something you could only describe as ghastly. but a rabbit, you think.. maybe you really are in some deranged version of wonderland.

a jagged and crazed smile remains mostly still across william’s face.. is that really his face?

and his voice booming before you, startles you- but you hear the accent, a british one..

such a contrast from michael’s softer, sadder voice, his also with an underlying british tone.

..

william, the animatronic.. puts its hand on the door handle, and with one motion, yanks the door open- lock popping off the edge of the doorframe with a metal clang to the ground. either he was strong, or the door was so old and desperate for replacement that it just rotted off the hinges with the movement.

“was that really necessary?” michael scoffs.

william hesitates at the doorway, his size overshadowing you so much.. you feel so small in his presence, but something else too..

some wild curiosity sparks in you, this thing has a human voice..

his eyes flicker at you and michael, in the haunting darkness that seems to swallow the both of you now that william is here.

“you have to invite me in,” he says, a slight catch in his voice that suggests a lick of humor.

you laugh, at the reference- you’ve always loved horror, that brought you comfort-your boyfriend thought you were a freak, but honestly- who didn’t love a little horror? you thought he was the weird one, for that.

but you like it on a different level. you think, it’s something that brings you a certain thrill,  that maybe you yourself aren’t even fully aware of..

it’s obvious then, why you’re so okay with the sight of william.

michael can’t help but roll his eyes, the presence of his cause for trauma now before him, and you now.. the pot is leading to more agitation. he really shouldn’t have done it here, not like this.

putting his head in his hand, “i really can’t.. with this right now you just..” he trails off.

you giggle softly, not wanting to make him more exasperated than he already was- wondering why michael has such a low tolerance for him.

“you can come in, don’t want your eyes to start bleeding or anything..” you say, finally, williams eyes immediately dart to you- his posture adjusts slightly from a hunch, metal clunking and grinding like some kind of construction machine in need of repair. he groans a little, a rattling in his voice, deep somewhere..

“what’s wrong, old man? feeling your age yet? you should be, after being here all these years.” michael says, you can tell in his voice he’s unsettled- probably even more so that he’s high for the first time in his life. he starts bouncing his leg up and down.

william finally steps into the room, moving towards you. he stops right before you, a whopping 2 feet taller than you..

“don’t test me.” he says, glancing at michael through his peripheral- flexing his metal fingers at his side. you notice, but don’t feel threatened.

now that he is right in front of you, you notice a smell.. rotted, aged, but sweet, nostalgic almost. blood. you smell blood, but again it feels old.. the scent of the rust, corroded metal.. that’s what makes you feel a twinge of nausea for some reason. it’s more overbearing than the blood smell.

you look closer at william, and notice something familiar.. that is, something him and michael might have in common.

blood encrusts parts of the jagged metal, solidified into seeping motion, but inside.. through exposed bits of exterior of the damaged animatronic- what looks like skin, but not the skin of someone alive.

you hold back a gasp, clasping your mouth with your hand, stepping back slightly. “you’re dead too..?” you say, almost choking on the words.

“re-animated, more like.” william finally speaks, his strange, glassy eyes stay fixated on you.

michael seems tired now. “i wanna go home. is my shift over yet?” he realizes how long he’s spent time with you and checks the clock on the desk, reading 6:10am.

you’re confused by this interaction- that really does sound like family banter..

you have- so many questions, but the pot still has its grip around you. you typically don’t think very rationally about things. more idealistically, and its what’s gotten you here. but the current state of your mind doesn’t help you.

“is he.. your..” you say, finally realizing the connection.

“i wish he wasn’t,” michael says, clearly a lot of resentment built up inside his aching body.

william is barely affected by the comment, he’s used to this kind of talk from his least favorite child.

“looks like we have to go, anyways.” michael says, standing up and moving in closer to you both, a risky move..

william glares his way- you feel something possessive about him, something protective, you can’t explain it.. despite his utterly gruesome exterior, and possibly now interior..

you feel the room becoming a bit stuffier now with this scent of rot pervading it..

“no overtime,” he says.

“yeah, you would say that. at least i get to leave.” michael says, walking over to the desk to grab the keys, then back to the awkward triangle of two basically humans and a giga once-was robot rabbit.

..

you always hated family gatherings, but.. the possibility of a new family, the thought of belonging, makes your heart swell a little.

though, the two seem to have a difficult past, based on your observation so far.

you feel an urge to break the tension. you lean over to michael, hand wrapping around his, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek..

the dark, uncanny eyes of william watch you closely, the gesture, he witnesses- is so soft and unfamiliar since the inhabitance of his flesh and metal prison.

the concept of love is so foreign to him that it barely registers, especially with his own son.

something inside william aches, deeply, lying dormant for what feels like ages. you can feel it in the vibration around him. something not many people would understand.

“i like having friends, i’m not used to it.” you say, smiling, still dazzled by your high. you feel an exhaustion wash over you, realizing you’ve been awake most of the night.

an overwhelming essence of pain licks you from between the two of them, something long buried and yearning to be uncovered, to be salved.

something in william’s wicked eyes glimmer, his still grin swirling in your vision like the cheshire cat’s. “friend?” he says, as if the sound of it made his nonexistent heart start beating again.

“can’t believe i have to come back to this again tomorrow,” michael mutters, noticably stunned by your kiss, but glad this interaction is almost over. he starts gathering his things and your bags in his arms.

you yawn, giving william a long look before smiling up at him. “it’s nice to meet you, william..”

god, really? michael thinks. you really have no idea what you’re in for.

william is ruffled at your mechanized respect- obedience, he thinks.

he hesitates a moment, the silence innappropriate for the sight that he was.

“see you tomorrow, friend.” william says, his voice low and steady. he is unsure of what to think of you. softness is very much unlike him, but he likes something about you.. something strange, he noticed.

that you didn’t run, or rather the look in your eyes was peculiar.. you seemed to settle very quickly in the presence of him, which made him feel something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

some kind of.. humanity. like for a moment, he wasn’t trapped, entwined, encased- by a hard, cold, vacant metal capsule.

he remembers when it first happened, the failure…

how claustrophobia was the least of his worries.

he feels a twinge in his jaw, where parts of the metal pierced through- pain still radiates on a daily basis, where pieces of wires and screws poke and stick out close to parts of his mostly withered body contained inside.

another day alone for him.

but he deserves it, doesn’t he? to suffer for everything he’s done?

for the fact that he resides in the same walls where his living son comes to nearly every night, and can’t bear to face the truth to him?

william is still cold, still holding onto the grudge of evan, the crying child, his favorite..

william watches you both leave, alone again.

he has a lot to think about now that you’re in the picture. what does this mean for him?

already he knows you and michael are.. close. he feels something for that, something possessive again- jealous, but the feeling is gripped by pain, by a maddening realization of the limitations of his own form.

the word “friend” hangs in the air, like the reverberating finale of a windchime..

..

you realize how sweet it is that michael is allowing you to stay with him.. a complete stranger he already seems to trust.

he loads your bags into the back of his car, you both getting in, the bright softness of the horizon now replacing the canvas of stars, settling on your eyelids now.

he rubs his eyes, the night unexpectedly wearing him out.

you look over at him and smile. “your dad seems nice,” you say, gently.

michael understands that you don’t know everything, or rather anything yet. so he’s easy on you without the presence of him.

“yeah.. you wish he was. he’s just being saccharine to you.” he says, beginning to back out of the lot. “because you don’t know anything about what he’s done.”

you look down, then back up at the beautiful sunrise appearing more now that you are driving away from the place.

“my dad hated me too,” you say, gazing out of the side window now, appreciating the locomotion of the car, stress slowly leaving from the process of it.

michael looks over at you briefly, thinking. he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings but he wants you to be aware. now, the fear of you running is toned down slightly, since.. wouldn’t have the sight of william- or of michael himself- have been enough to send you back to your abusive boyfriend?

“i don’t think anyone’s dad in the world hates them as much as mine.” michael says, a flatness in his voice that suggests vacancy laced with resilience, but at the same time, you can tell he wants more from him. “even saying ‘dad’ doesn’t feel right. he doesn’t deserve the endearment.”

you can tell, through all of his struggle to understand this- he is a being seeking affection. you can tell with how easy he let you in.

you feel a resentment for your own father that comes from neglect, where he still had a standard set for you- something similar michael has dealt with.

evan.. dealt with it too. that’s partially why he was always so anxious.. but michael coped in a different way. he didn’t understand his brother, crying helplessly all the time. he thought, crying didn’t solve anything.

michael didn’t realize, evan was just different. but he had to push him so far.. to the point of no return.

..

you sit, staring at michael while he drives you to safety. somewhere.. with him.

you notice his hair- dark, slightly long and falling carefully around parts of his face, sticking out from underneath his security hat. his arm rests loosely on the steering wheel, eyes darting back and forth at the traffic and the road.

he looks slightly rough, worn, tired- the bags under his eyes prominent in the morning sunlight.

you look at him with such love, such sweetness.. the stars in your eyes settling slightly as the high begins to subside. the silence in the car feels comfortable, you lean your head back and close your eyes.

feeling safe.. for once in your life.

michael glances over at you, his gaze holding for a moment as he notices how peaceful you look in the seat next to him..

he wonders what you’re going to think about what he did to evan.

if you’ll change your mind about him. the pit in his stomach won’t leave until you know the truth.

..

he pulls into the driveway of the house, in an area slightly away from civilization.

it’s a beautiful home, with charming victorian moldings adorning the exterior. seems like a really nice place to stay..

you both get out of the car, him going to the back to unload your things.

“that’s so nice of you to do that for me, michael,” you say, knowing you were fully capable of carrying everything yourself.

he closes the trunk, slinging the duffle over his shoulder.

“hey, it’s the least i can do for someone who didn’t run at first sight of me.” he says, a small smirk forming as he starts towards the side door.

you follow closely behind him, walking up the steps as he unlocks the door.

“here we are, home sweet home.. well, now it is.” he chimes, before pushing the door open, a familiar scent of an old home filling your lungs as you both enter.

..

you see what a charming place it is.. a classic feeling all the way through. doesn’t seem very michael’s style, but..

“is this place yours?” you ask, looking around the beautiful kitchen, gentle beams of morning light seeping through the curtain hanging over the sink window.

the first reveal. “uh, yeah, i mean.. it’s william’s, technically. but i really can’t afford to live anywhere else with, the pay i get from frights.. pretty sure it’s paid off so i only have to pay utilities.”

you appreciate michael’s honesty. it’s refreshing and unfamiliar- you like that he’s not afraid to admit things, and all things he seems to lay out on the table for you.

he leaves himself at the mercy of your judgment, but he seems to crave intimacy. he wants to be fully accepted by someone.

you sure came into his life, and he into yours, at a miraculously appropriate time..

..

you admire the trim, the detailing of the place- the little things scattered about, like an unwashed coffee mug, a pile of books on the table, one of those kitschy vintage cat clocks where the eyes go back and forth..

“it’s so cozy here.. and quiet.” you say, appreciating the soft welcome of the home, maybe.. your new home. “are you sure you’re okay with me staying here?”

michael sets your bags down on the floor and moves to the fridge to grab something from inside. “you didn’t have anywhere to go- of course i’d let you stay here.” he opens a bottle of water and chugs some of it. “plus, it feels nice with some life in it for a change.” he says, closing the fridge door as he picks up the phone on the wall.

“wow, you still have a landline? that’s so cool! i don’t know many people who still do..” you say, remembering the days you would talk to one of your only friends on the phone for hours at a time..

he chuckles, staring down at the phone in his hand- raising his brows slightly at the thought of how dated his lifestyle felt. he didn’t really mind it much, for some reason. the simplicity of living this way kept him able to function and lay low.

“honestly, i haven’t really had an interest to get a smart phone.. i know everyone has one- i’ve used them before but i kind of like how simple these are..” he says, twirling the phone in his hand, contemplatively. “are you hungry right now? i can order us some breakfast, there’s a family-owned restaurant that delivers close to here. they make a mean steak and eggs.”

you realize how bad you have the munchies right now. it would be the perfect thing to have before a long, restful slumber to complete a long winded night in the woods, and fazbear fright’s..

“that sounds amazing, sure!” you say, excitedly.

“awesome, here i’ve got a copy of the menu in the drawer somewhere..” he searches a few for it, then remembering it was stuck to the fridge with a magnet. “oh, here it is.”

you notice the place could use some cleaning, just the dust and little bit of clutter.. but otherwise it’s pretty well kept.

he hands you the menu- you notice it’s a printout, like he printed it from the website, rather than an actual menu from the place itself. the top of it read, “gunsmoke country grill.” it has a cute picture of a cow and chicken’s face on the top. you scan the items, everything sounding delicious post-stone.

“take your time.. i’ll be right back.” michael moves around the corner to put your bags into the spare bedroom downstairs. you then hear him walk upstairs, shuffling around a room above- you can hear cracks and creaks with most of the steps he takes.

you feel slightly unsettled, being alone again- but it feels safe.. safer than any house ever felt in your life.

you take in the sights, scents, sounds- of a still home, almost caught partially in a time capsule, it seems.

..like the cat clock, it read the wrong time on the wall- on the stove it read 8:37am, but the analog read 11:25. michael never noticed the batteries died.

there’s unwashed dishes in the sink- you notice things that become your motivation, to help him, maybe feel a little bit better about himself.. like he matters to someone.

because in this short time you’ve been together, it’s been the most intense, emotionally, in your lifetime.

and michael matters to you, you can’t wait to show him that more..

Chapter Text

you hear michael come down the stairs, now wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. he looks a lot more comfortable, and you notice how cute he looks in casual wear.

his hair is messy from the night- slightly damp appearing, but not from being washed. probably from whatever mold and nastiness floats in the air at fazbear’s fright.

you look at him and smile as he returns to the kitchen, the menu now in your lap- your hand under your chin, resting on the table.

“you look so cute michael..” you say, looking him up and down. “and a lot more relaxed.” you go to stand up, placing the menu on the table. you realize you’re still in the clothes you escaped home in.

he shrugs, leaning against the pantry door. “not being at work has a lot to do with it,” he says, “but yeah, thanks.. sometimes i don’t know what to say to that. no one’s ever called me cute before…” he looks down, then back up at you, unsure of himself.

“i want you to tell me everything. what happened to you, what happened to william.. please,” you say, looking towards him with the utmost sincerity.

michael gulps, his posture readjusting slightly straighter. “u-uh, yeah. we can totally do that. let’s just, maybe.. order breakfast first?” he says, inquiry in his tone. “does that sound good?”

you nod, excitedly, like a dog about to get a treat. “of course!! i’m so hungry and i’m sure you are too... especially after getting stoned with me..” you giggle, remembering the night, that kiss..

“also.. i have money, i can pay for my meal if it helps.” you offer. you definitely don’t want to be a burden, especially financially. it’s happened before in your life and people have made you feel so bad for it.

michael shakes his head. “nuh-uh. not happening.” he says simply, walking back over to the phone on the wall, right next to you.

you tilt your head. “are you sure..? i really don’t want to be an issue while i stay with you..” you press on.

“don’t worry about it,” he says, picking up the phone, the familiar whir of the dial tone being one of the only sounds in the house aside from your two voices. “what is it you want from gunsmoke?” he asks, looking at you now.

michael’s never had a relationship, but he acts as if he knows what it’s like. he considers you before himself, it makes your heart feel so full.

you move a little closer to him, you want to be near him as much as possible.. the closer you both are, the safer you feel. after all, you didn’t plan how you would feel after running away from your old life. there was a lot behind you and the future was fraught with instability.

you’re thankful he is here, to erase that uncertainty.

“i’m going with the diner classic.. eggs scrambled, bacon, homefries.. and toast instead of pancakes. thank you..” you say, gratefully.

“mm, sounds good. i should branch out but.. my usual just hits the spot so well after a night at that shithole.” he says, beginning to dial the number. he looks up into space as the number rings.

you hear the woman on the other line begin speaking. the house is so quiet, you love how it feels. like you’re finally in a place and position to process everything that’s happened.

michael places the order, and while he does you decide to explore the house a little..

..

you check out the living room, immediately noticing some picture frames are turned over on a beautiful cherry wood console table, underneath a giant francis bacon painting that you recognize-

you make sure you still hear michael’s voice before you decide to flip one over..

it’s a picture of two little boys, one looking slightly older than the other..

michael..? you think. you study his face in the photograph, seeing his real face- when it was completely human..

something about the photo makes you feel sad- you frown at the two smiling boys. he’s has been holding onto a lot hasn’t he..

you set it back in its place, and note the various artistic pieces you recognize more of. it’s not tasteless, which you appreciate a lot. everything matches quite well with the colors of the walls and floors, but a lot of it does feel quite dated, compared to other people’s standards anyways- you adore an old house, especially with class.

the smell, the air, the atmosphere- everything about an old house makes you feel more at home. and knowing that this is william’s house adds even more intrigue..

you observe a record player, a gorgeous piece- with carved wood etchings of floral motifs. “holy crap..” you whisper, then to the left of it, all of these records.. “oh my god, django!” your whisper bordering an excited cry as you scan all the beautiful examples of human history, of recent memories, so many of which you’re familiar with..

michael stands in the doorway to the living room, the floor creaking slightly beneath his weight as he notices you perusing, marveling like someone in a museum.

he begins with a long, drawn out sigh, “..yep. the old man loved django reinhardt. funny how he never knew, or cared about anything i liked- but we had to know about everything he was into..” he says, arms crossed as he steps into the room to sit on the edge of a lovely maroon colored chaise.

“if these things remind you of him so much, why don’t you get rid of it.. or sell it? i’m sure it would get you a lot of money- some of these paintings almost seem like they could be originals..” you say, scanning the room again, feeling joy knowing that this- is the place, the sanctuary which you’ve arrived to after a vale of tears.

“oh there definitely are some originals. i don’t know where he put those though.. wouldn’t be surprised if he sold them while he was still alive to get more money for his fucked up franchise.” michael retorts, looking around at the pictures as if it were the first time he noticed them in a while.

but in reality, his life which has become groundhog day- those pictures are some of the only things that bring him any semblance of peace.. he likes that he can get lost in them, especially the nature-oriented ones..

“..and i don’t know. they look nice, so i just.. leave it all be i guess.” he explains, his life having been nothing but an excruciating blur since the beginning it seems.

you understand, feeling warmed by the fact that michael has such a disdain for his father, but still keeps things of him within his sight- like he’s waiting for the day when his family will all come back and be all right.

he leans on the arm of the chaise, looking distant, like he’s thinking now about something that was once important to him..

he lets out a sigh, knowing he’s about to begin the long and difficult lecture.

“who was that in the picture.. you turned over?” you ask, quietly- hoping he doesn’t consider it a breach of trust.

he repositions himself so his hands are behind his head, against the wall. his eyes lower, in a shameful way that you know so well from doing yourself in the past. “my little brother, evan.”

you nod slowly. “what happened to him?”

he likes you taking the lead on asking the questions. makes it easier for him to think about it without remembering the entire, painful sequence.

you close the space more between you and him, standing beside a coffee table residing central to the space. you notice the pile of records sitting inside a rack designed especially for them- next to michael, and make your way to it, lifting your hands like a kid about to grab all the bulk candy from a grocery store.

“uh.. can i..” you start, looking over to him, slightly embarrassed at your lack of restraint.

“go for it,” he says, gesturing towards it.

the tension eases a little, now that you’re shuffling through william’s record collection.

“so uh.. evan, he- was a sensitive kid. he had breakdowns a lot and, i don’t blame him at all for it. our father- william was barely around. he was obsessed with his work, i mean so obsessed that there were times evan and elizabeth, my sister, and i were completely alone in the house. even as little, little kids.. and i dont know, just the lack of our parents being there- i learned to grow up fast, that’s for sure..” michael describes, in detail his emotionally delicate upbringing.

“i think i took on the load and.. took it out on him. but i don’t know.. i was just having fun-i thought- with him, but i was too rough. i thought i was just being a big brother, but i really pushed him far..” he continues. you notice his eyes trailing along with the words, like he’s replaying the scenes over in his mind, like he hasn’t done so before, over and over, and over, and over…

you listen carefully, glancing at him in acknowledgement while noting the names and titles of each album in william’s possession- such a unique and eclectic collection of charlie parker, ruth white, throbbing gristle, the doors, the deviants, the seekers..

michael takes a deep breath, preparing for the climax. “…my brother hated animatronics. i didn’t get why- i thought they were super cool as a kid. i really liked foxy..” he presses on.

you can tell in his voice that he’s getting more shaken, like it’s getting harder and harder to even speak the words anymore.

“i would scare him with the mask i had, of foxy.. and it made him cry. every single time. for some reason.. i thought it was funny. every single time.” michael says, the words echoing with an ache you haven’t seen in him until now.

“he had a birthday party. i wish it never happened..” he struggles, beginning to pick at the edge of the wood on the arm of the chaise.

“he was up all night, every fucking night up until that party. i’d hear him run around his room and it started to drive me crazy.. i just kept scaring him with the mask, thinking it would knock him off, but he never let up. never stopped crying, i swear to god..” michael moves so he’s laying his back against the pillow of the chaise, more comfortably, like the pain of the recall is causing more physical strain.

his posture is slightly hunched, but more due to a burdening depression he’s feeling while telling you about this. he appears more and more submissive to you, praying you won’t think he’s the worst human not alive.

“why was he scared of going to the party?” you wonder.

michael gulps, realizing how much his family sounds like a tim burton movie, puzzling and highly abnormal.

“there were animatronics there, they didn’t seem to bother him too much until i.. did what i did.” michael hesitates, his chest swirling with feelings and resurfacing pain, almost cutting like a razor- the other victims inside him feel it too.

why does michael have to suffer for it so much, when it was really his father to blame for it all?

“did.. what?” you say, pausing your search, to look at him attentively.

his eyebrows furrow, eyes narrowing, focused, hard.

“i.. pushed him into the mouth of an animatronic. it bit down on his head and killed him. but of fucking course it wasn’t quick. he stayed, alive for a little while after.. had.. no front of his head-“ michael looks almost as if he might throw up.

you instinctively move to sit on the chaise, in front of his legs propped up. you put your arm around his legs, leaning your chin onto his knees, trying to offer some kind of comfort in the moment.

“that’s so awful, michael, i’m so sorry..” you say softly, imagining the gruesome image. the sounds and sights that followed after such an incident.. “i can’t even imagine how much that affects you..”

for a moment, michael looks like he might cry, you notice his breathing hitch, as he seems somewhat relieved at your immediate response to it.

you tighten your arm around his legs- then moving your other one around them as well into a bear hug as you press the bottom of your cheek to his knee. “you know it’s not your fault, right? well.. you know what i mean.” you say, voice low. “william hurt your whole family, it sounds like.”

michael nods slowly. his breath catches as he speaks “yeah. makes me wonder what the hell happened to him growing up, for him to become such a monster..” his eyes trail off, you see something in them that suggests reparation- the possibility of reconciling with what is still left, what is still possible..

“and now he just fucking rots inside that spring bonnie suit. kind of a suitable fate, but the fact he’s still sentient.. kind of gets to me sometimes.”

the violent and aggressive thoughts he has towards his father startle you slightly. but there must be more to this than meets the eye.

“why do you wish him death so badly?” you ask, trying to stay quiet through his reimagining of endless traumas.

“because it wasn’t just evan, my brother- or elizabeth, my sister. it was dozens, tens of dozens- god, who fucking knows- maybe even hundreds of kids. kids that just, were there, having fun. playing games, eating pizza, laughing.” he says, waving his hand in disapproval, for everything his father was. never have you known someone who was so truly unimpressed with someone’s existence..

the fact that he wasn’t just a bad father, not just a deadbeat.. but a serial, child murderer as well…

and you somehow still have a pull towards him.. despite knowing all of that, now.

you understand why.. because of your own neglect. and because of william’s treatment towards you so far- that gentle humor, his gentle acknowledgement of you, where he could have so easily done the same thing to you that that animatronic did to evan..

even though william’s appearance alone should’ve been enough to make you vomit and run for your life.. you sensed something about him that wasn’t fully evil. someone who was aching for reprieve.

you stayed and listened.. to that voice. that deep, sensuous voice- bleeding through that hulking, obscene suit.

knowing for one thing, that he made michael.. this precious being so unfortunately tortured, you wish you could save him from himself.. and maybe, just maybe you can.

in your own way..

as you take in michael’s story, you realize how your own life pales in comparison.. how it felt so horrible, and it was- but at least you had your life, still.

michael was only half living, barely. more like, half dead. a cup half empty versus half full.

but slowly, with your trust, his cup is slowly filling..

he really appreciates you listening to him so closely, and so silently.. he’s never told a soul, but he imagined the outcome of it, so he just held it inside with the souls contained within.

you wonder now, though- what was william’s motive for killing children, and so many of them? you ask michael, gazing upon him in a soft and loving way, non-judgmentally.

“me.” he says, glazed. “i killed his favorite.”

you both halt as you hear the doorbell ring, completely forgetting about breakfast.

michael, thankful for the intermission- gets up on cue. he spots his wallet on another table next to the doorway and grabs it before making his way to the front door.

you hear him exchange a few words with the delivery driver, the soft ruffling of the paper bag as its transferred to his hands.

the door closes, and you see him set the bag on the counter- this being your cue to get up, the scent of savoriness filling the air as you approach the kitchen.

“awesome, they remembered everything. love when that happens,” he says, slightly relieved, but still wondering inside how you truly feel after this.. disturbing conversation.

you put your hand on his arm, in silent thanks.

he seems to loosen a little from the tension he’s been holding.

“how are you.. so okay with this?” michael asks, genuinely curious. he’s starting to think you’re not all there, but he can’t be harsh since you’re taking it so well.

you smile, allowing him to hand you your container of food.

“because i love you,” you say, feeling a relief yourself from saying it. you’re aware how early it is, to be committing to such words to a person you’ve known less than twenty four hours..

but something inside you feels it, feels that michael is deserving of your love.

you feel so much for him, that you can make him live a better life- where he doesn’t just waste away with the memories of guilt.

and knowing that no one has been there for him, through all, through any- of this. and yet he’s still here, going to work everyday, trying to be and feel like a person when it’s obvious that he isn’t, doesn’t.

it’s a twisted version of surviving, a purgatory you’ve never witnessed until him.

michael stops, for a moment to process your words. “you.. have to be joking,” he mutters. you hear the unbelievability in his tone. he looks at you, studying your face, searching for deception.

you shake your head. “no.. i mean it. you think you don’t need it, but.. we all do. i want it from you, too.”

“love..” michael says, the word dangling in the air, like it’s the first time he’s ever heard it. “..i just can’t believe it.” he says, almost uncomfortable with the fact that someone feels this way about him.

when he knew it was something he couldn’t give himself, love became a fantasy, something meant only for the truly living, still alive people. he wore this punishment like the scarlet letter- so much that any essence of himself as a child, with innocence.. was entirely forgotten and buried.

until you came along… helping him to stay afloat while drowning in the river of his nightmarish life.

“you will, i’ll make sure of it,” you say, grinning as you hold the box in your hands, waiting for him to go with you back to the living room.

michael feels something in his chest lift, so much so that it feels like he can breathe a little better again.

he doesn’t say a word, just watches you with a look of disbelief, but also.. hope.

a smile slowly etches into his shadowy face, like he is finally letting in something positive into his life, for once in such a long time..

without speaking, you both make your way back to the living room- him sitting on a loveseat across the room, facing the display of records, the player, and you.

you sit on the chaise where he was, facing him- next to the records. you remember one you spotted, that would have the potential to ease the tension even more so, so long as it didn’t bother him that you would play his father’s music..

not only did you have the munchies, but you were starving from only having eaten dinner around 6pm the night before, and being up pretty much an entire night with an undead man and his reanimated father.

you start eating, the food in your hands a symbol- a quiet gesture but so big to you, michael cares enough about you to make sure you’re fed, that alone was enough for you.

the silence feels comfortable, the morning sunlight now strong- coming through the delicate pattern of a stained glass window..

you eat relatively quickly, michael noticing. he thinks, he wonders what you’ve been through, for you to disrespect yourself so much- by getting involved with him and his family matters..

guess your family was shit too, he thinks.

you finish up, him still a few bites away from a comfortable food coma. you leave no leftovers, bringing the box to the kitchen to trash it.

as you return to the room, your attention redirects towards those records.

“can i play one of these? or.. i understand if it would bother you.” you ask, while addressing concern.

he nods towards it, gathering up a forkful of steak. “go ahead. it’s been a while since i’ve used it- been watching tv more lately which, i think i gotta stop doing.. it just makes time feel like nothing, feels like i’m doing nothing,” he laughs, a little uneasily.

you have a feeling that hearing this music will be healing for him in some way.

you laugh back, understanding. your eyes directing towards his for a moment, then back to the pile of records- you lean down, sifting through- until your eyes settle sweetly on the seekers single, titled:

“i’ll never find another you”

“bingo. such a beautiful song. have you heard this one before?” you hold it up, him squinting at the dusty quartet on the cover.

“uhh.. probably once or twice..” he says. “why, is it good?”

“only the best. the seekers were a stellar group- this song is for you, michael..” you say, excitedly, your heart beginning to race at the thought of him listening to this. you feel music is a good way to speak the words you can’t in the moment.

this song is perfect for him, for the love you feel towards him.

michael leans back in the loveseat, picking at his breakfast- he’s wondering what you’re on about, wondering what kind of song would possibly be dedicated to him.

he watches you dust off the cover with your pants and remove the record from its protective sleeve, the soft sound of paper contact as you slip it out and underneath the needle.

power on, needle on, volume.. up.

the sound of static begins. and then, the roar of a powerful guitar, then a bass follows- more strings to the echo of a few beautiful voices singing harmoniously- the words are strong and impactful..

there’s a new world somewhere

they call the promised land

and i’ll be there someday

if you will hold my hand..

i still need you there beside me

no matter what i do

for i know i’ll never find another you..

there is always someone

for each of us, they say

and you’ll be my someone

forever and a day

i could search the whole world over

until my life is through

but i know i’ll never find another you

it’s a long, long journey

so stay by my side

when i walk through the storm

you’ll be my guide,

be my guide

if they gave me a fortune

my pleasure would be small

i could lose it all tomorrow

and never mind at all

but if i should lose your love, dear

i don’t know what i’d do

for i know i’ll never find another you..

michael listens, carefully, to the words- shining brightly through the genuine, natural sound of instruments, all for him..

he finds himself tapping his finger to the beat, as you sway your head side to side, he can see you mouthing the words- so unfamiliar to him, but so beautiful.

his chest feels warm, like the sunbeams casting on you both through the stained glass. as he listens to this melody, you were right- the voices sound angelic, promising, hopeful. everything he’s been missing for most of his life.

he focuses on the men and women singing- like they’re speaking directly to him.

he spoons the last of fried egg into his mouth, as he watches you, so interested in his life. he feels a sense of pride about it, that somehow you’re still here, and genuinely- on your own accord.

you could have so easily just left and went to some kind of shelter, but this new life with michael, the son of william afton.. couldn’t have been better and more suited for you both.

you notice he is finished with his food and walk over, the song still reverberating lovingly through the speaker.

he lets you take the empty container from his lap- taking this opportunity to gaze up at your eyes.. how alive and full of color they are, especially in this morning light.

as the emotions well up inside him from the music, some of it nostalgic- reminding him of what it was like to be small.. he searches your eyes for safety, comfort.

he knows he has it, now that you’re here.

you quickly dispose of the box- hearing the muffled sound of the seekers flowing into the kitchen. as you return, you see michael nodding to the final moments of the tune-

“definitely don’t think i’ve heard that one.. that was- really something special.” he says, almost at a loss for words. flattery is something michael never imagined he would experience, especially in this physical state.

you smile, feeling relieved from the food you had and more relaxed after his trauma dump. showing him that song was the cherry on top.

you move to sit onto the loveseat, next to michael- he instinctively makes room for you as you settle in the space between him and the arm.

your hips are pressed against each other as the seat sinks in slightly from age- he feels the warmth from your thighs radiating through the side of his jeans.

you lean into his side, head gently resting into the crook of his neck. you wrap an arm around his waist comfortably as you close your eyes and inhale slowly, softly- to take in his scent..

it’s an odd, bittersweet mix- nostalgic, like sunshine warming curtains in a room long forgotten. earthy, sweet. a faded hint of metal. so many sensations that normally you wouldn’t think twice grimacing at.

you feel his skin against your cheek, a tactile sensation reminiscent of papier mache. the soft rise and fall of his breath, of yours- two weary worlds colliding, both resting.

he moves to put his arm around you, holding you close as you both sit in the still and quiet aftermath of an enchanting track.

“why do you love me?” he murmurs, like he’s afraid to know the answer.

“you’re real,” you say simply, tightening the arm around him slightly as you bury your face in his neck deeper. “there’s no bullshit with you..”

michael can’t help but let a small laugh past his lips. you feel his head press against yours more. gingerly, he says, “there’s bullshit all right, but you just want to pretend it’s not there- don’t you?” he’s still not fully convinced, but he’s accepting your gestures of care anyways..

you pause to look up at him, studying his beastly but beautiful face.

“what happened to you.. and your sweet human face?” you ask, reaching a hand up to hold his cheek, tracing the edge of the hollow of his eye socket with your thumb..

michael watches you, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin against his. he sighs a little- in relief- thinking he might as well tell you the rest of the story.

“well, remember i said i.. killed his favorite? by that i meant evan. after that incident, something in my father changed. he treated me especially different, though.”

“in what way?”

“oh like, he wanted to get rid of me. so badly. he lost it after evan died. instead of inventing those cute, happy fun versions of animatronics- he made ones that.. killed. and captured kids..”

you halt for a moment. wait, william invented the animatronics? you thread together the evidence, realizing william is responsible for the existence of fazbear’s fright.

“why was evan his favorite, do you know?”

“i’ve thought about it- and i really don’t know. i think.. he liked how fragile he was, for some reason. he sought to protect it at whatever cost, even at the cost of us.. the rest of his family.”

..

Chapter Text

both of you exhausted from the night into day, you finally decide it’s time to get ready to sleep.

after all, this new life with your undead friend- you figure he probably won’t mind company at work.. knowing now how lonely he’s been until your showing up. it’s an odd schedule for sure, but you could get used to it.

so far, this trip has been so surreal- but you couldn’t have asked for anything better. it’s almost like, the entire fucked up story michael spilled to you didn’t matter. you realize how delusional you may be, living inside your mind most of your life- escaping through a beautifully crafted fantasy world you’ve always wished you could be part of.

but it’s almost like, your current reality matches that ideal somewhat. and this experience with him so far, and his father william- has brought you close to this comfort so much that you don’t mind being swept away by it..

no matter how dangerous it may be.

..

you notice the stink on yourself from the hike in the woods, and the scent of years of neglect- from the sheer novelty of your experience so far, your recovery is taking priority at the moment.

he’s enjoying this closeness with you, this calm- unexpected and supportive vessel that is you, lifting him up in the rain of his own fire, his own hellish recalling of history.

“do you mind if we save the rest for tomorrow? i’m fucking whipped. i don’t know how you’re still going.. honestly, what with running away from home and all..” michael says, gently- you can hear the tiredness, but relief in his voice.

that his horrifying backstory was bizzarely still not enough to make you afraid of him. the pyramid of terror climbing with every detail he discloses to you.. but you see it as him trusting you, and that’s enough.

your boyfriend of yesteryear never trusted you for some reason. you never stole from him, never cheated. in fact- he was the one who did that to you. even though michael has years of resentment built up, and you’re a complete stranger to him- he still is willing to lay all the cards out. all so you can decide how to play them.

he never expected this much from you, never expected you to stay.

“sure. i think i’m going to shower first.. do you want to join me?” you ask, attempting to resist a smile, but to no avail. your hand resting across his hip tightens slightly, the fabric of his shirt crimping under your grip.

michael hesitates, blinking at you- the gears looking like they’re turning right before your own, fluttering eyelids.

his eyes dart slightly to your side, then back at your face that clearly shows you want this. but still, he asks for validation.

“you.. you’re okay with that, really?” he looks lost in thought for a moment. he’s slightly nervous about you seeing his body.

no.. he’s really nervous. again, with every reveal he fears an abrupt ending to this catharsis he’s had with you. he knows what you look like, in essence. soft, supple, warm.. with a strong beating heart that chimes with every emotion.

that’s one of the things that keeps the hate for his father so distinct, so persistent. that he’s the reason he is hollow. he has a soul, and in fact he has hundreds of them unrested, stirring at all times- but no heart.

like the living tin-man from the wizard of oz.

the reminder of his bodily state, and the harsh reminiscence of his father creeps up into the back of his spine- like a curse he can’t shake off.

in a lower, gruff voice he says, “i really don’t think you want to see this.”

he feels a lump in his throat, from angst. he tries to forget what he looked like before. and now is the first time in a while he’s been reminded of it.

sure, he changes his clothes, and takes showers- but he pays no mind to his body. no one has seen how he looks under clothes since it happened, and so far he’s been content with this.

but now you’re here..

you rest your cheek on his collarbone, speaking softly to him. you know how much he needs your submission. someone to fully accept and understand him from every fucked up angle.

“if i love your face so much, how can you think i won’t love your body too?” you say, letting your warmth seep into him like the morning sun.

he’s still stunned that you even think like that about him. but of course he doesn’t challenge it, because deep down it’s feeding something in him that’s been lying dormant, and starving..

something he’s pushed far, far away and out of his mind for as long as he can remember.

an unconditional love.

“can't argue with that, i guess..” he says, still unconvinced that you won’t slip and die on the way out of the tub when you see his skeletal features beneath the clothed facade.

but he thinks about you too, and how much he really would love another human, an alive human’s touch and.. to see you in your completely exposed form- skin to skin with him..

it would feel so nice.. he thinks, almost lost in the reverie of imagining you- like before it was a dream he never thought possible.

“good. shall we?” you say, gently pulling away from your serene embrace with each other.

you both stand in unison, slowly, bodies close. he is only slightly taller than you, all of you completely within his reach..

“sure… whatever you want.” he says, lost in your shining eyes that behave like a guiding light to him.

he’s beginning to realize, ever so slowly- how ethereal you are. like an angel somehow made it past the threshold of hell itself, his home, this home.. belonging to satan’s favorite child.

you remember a room you saw around the corner, that was where he put your clothes. he assumed you wouldn’t want to sleep anywhere near him. but of course you did..

you think about how nice it will feel to slide under those soft, silky sheets- next to michael..

“just have to grab my clothes first, can’t believe i’m still wearing this from last night..” you say, somewhat embarrassed.

“doesn’t bother me at all,” he says, unfazed. nothing new for him, nothing crazy in his wardrobe. what he wears is the least of his concern. and you look cute enough, to him- that what you wear doesn’t affect him in the slightest, dirty or clean.

under the surface, he’s getting a little bit excited though, about seeing you without any of that on.. he’s good at containing it, for the most part.

you break the proximity with him for a moment to grab your clothes- upon entering the spare room, you note its calmness, stillness.

its decor is simpler than the living room. but still, you don’t want to stay here.. it’s too.. lifeless, unpersonalized. you can’t wait to see michael’s room..

you sift through your backpack, but for some reason.. you can’t find what you thought was packed. damn, maybe you forgot to in the midst of deciding your fate..

shit.. i don’t have anything.. but he does.

the thought of wearing one of his shirts makes you feel a certain way inside.

you meet him at the doorway to the living room. he raises an eyebrow towards you when he sees your empty hands.

“can i maybe borrow one of your shirts? apparently i forgot clothes.. i don’t know how that happened.” you say, trying to think back to whether or not you were stoned when you packed your stuff.

michael answers the thought in your head. “guess the bong was more important, huh?” he remarks, heading towards the upstairs, to go to his room.

you follow him, smiling- blushing. “yeah. of course i would think of that first,” you say. “i’ll have to show you what it’s like to wake n bake.”

“yeah, sure.. maybe.” michael didn’t like how he felt being high on the job, knowing his father was around- other than you being there with him. you were the saving grace, the grounding point. so he thinks, maybe he doesn’t mind doing it as long as you’re there..

and maybe it’ll be a more pleasant experience, being in a comfortable, quiet house instead of a building ready to cave in.

..

“let’s go see your room!” you exclaim, a child-like joy rising in you.

“i wouldn’t get excited, it’s nothing special..” he says, feeling slightly weird at how happy you are to see the boring way he’s been living for so long. he’s not a slob, he just doesn’t think he’s very interesting.

but he also hasn’t known many people who have taken an interest in him and his life.

then again.. he doesn’t go out much.

“everyone’s bedroom is special in some way,” you reassure him.

“well.. maybe now that you’ll be in it.” he says, thinking of you like a lantern in the darkness, like you have been so far for him..

“aww, michael..” you kiss him on the cheek, your arm brushing his to beckon as you move ahead of him up the worn, but charming wooden staircase.

his room lies on the left in a hallway that leads to an elaborate stained glass window- showcased proudly at the end of it.

“william really liked stained glass, didn’t he..” you say, admiring it.

michael pauses- recalling the absurdity, the irony of william.

“i guess. i know he thought of himself as godly, or being close to god. not sure if that has anything to do with it..” he says, pushing the door to his room open.

“or an appreciation for art? his music taste really showed that..” you murmur.

he’s not sure how he feels about you praising william like that, he tries to ignore it for now. but on the back of his mind, he remembers your reaction to him- barely showing fear. more intrigue and curiosity than anything..

let’s hope that it doesn’t kill you.

..

you follow closely, entering his room. the familiar smell of bedsheets and used clothing echo back a feeling of relief, knowing that soon you’ll be in a safe slumber with him..

his room is a lot more simple and modest compared to the rest of the house so far.

you notice things that bring you more excitement, things that remind you of good times in your life..

he has a large, box tv- one you remember from being a kid. hooked up to it from below is a playstation 2, a small stack of games piled up on the entertainment center underneath.

as he goes to the closet to find himself, and you one of his shirts- you mouth the titles to the games he has. your eyes settle on some that you can’t believe he has..

“wow.. you like silent hill? that’s one of my favorites..” you say, also noticing that he only has the first four- those being the best of the series, in your opinion.

“only one of the best games of all time. not sure if the second or fourth one is my favorite.. they’re both fantastic in their own right.” michael pulls a black t shirt off the rack, realizing it has the original cast of animatronics from freddy fazbear’s pizzeria printed on it..

“fuck.. thought i got rid of this fucking thing..” he murmurs, tossing it aside onto the bed as he looks for something else.

you notice the shirt on the bed, the image jogging a memory of the posters from fazbear’s, and of michael’s story from the original diner. you feel a bit sad knowing he’s tried so desperately to forget all these years, that the sight of a t shirt triggers him so much..

he finds another shirt, this one a navy blue and white tie dye. better.

“don’t worry about it, it’s in the past now. so far in the past..” you try to reassure him, speaking rather softly so not to cause any more agitation in him.

you don’t realize it, but your words help him a lot. he hasn’t had anyone else to reflect back to him, his thoughts and feelings- until you. you feel like the riverside he can lay his heavy load down by.. calm and receptive, unwavering.

“yeah. but william’s not. he’s still here, for some fucking reason..” he responds, that ache returning to his tone again.

you understand that it feels like nothing is resolved to him, because the person who caused all of this is still around. like a predator, it’s hard to move on when they’re still a threat, potentially.

especially in william’s current form, he could certainly do some damage to the both of you. easily, if he wanted..

but at the same time, there is time for repair.. time to mend, since william and michael remain- they could bring all of their feelings to the surface and finally resolve them.

is he willing to do that.. are they both willing too?

..

you nod, choosing to let the tension simmer for now. after observing michael’s game collection, you think to yourself how he’s picked up a trait of his father- collecting something valuable to him.

and silent hill, of all things.. you’re kind of surprised he likes something that emphasizes aloneness so much.. maybe it made him feel right at home, being james, or henry..

you go over to the closet where he is, taking the other shirt he offers, unbound with memories.

you bring it to your nose, inhaling the past. you can tell there are scents mixed in that don’t coincide with the present state of the room. maybe he didn’t wear this one too often, or wash it..

no matter- you love that you get to cover yourself in him, in this way.

“can’t wait to wash this filth and grime off.. i’ll feel like a new person. technically, it really will be a fresh start, to my new life with you..” you say, fondly.

“i mean.. i’m glad you think that way, about me.. i don’t get it, but..” he doesn’t want to show his insecurity, but he can’t help it a lot of the time. he’s so used to it.

but he realizes he’s taking away from your positivity. all of your kind words are being swallowed by his doubt. he has to try to be a little more hopeful.

and why, not? now that you’re here, a true glimmer of hope he’s still getting adjusted to.

“i’m.. sure happy you’re here.” he says, ending with a sigh.

you beam a smile his way, that alone making his mind feel at ease.

..

he leads the way to the bathroom- it’s relatively spacious, with all the necessities. you catch some more motifs that address the dated but gorgeous character of the home.

the soft light from outside casts romantically inside the thin- once again, stained glass window- bringing a liminality to the scene.

he sets his new clothes down on a corner chair before starting the water, you putting the t shirt on top of his pile. it’s long enough to cover your thighs, so you don’t need anything else.

the air begins to fill with humidity as he moves to close the door, leaving it open a crack to keep it from becoming a rainforest in here.

you watch him do his thing, a routine that he’s kept up almost like you’re not even there. he’s acting this way for control- knowing that he’s going to have to reveal another secret to you very soon.

you decide to make the first move, maybe it will help him feel more comfortable to do the same..

..

like molting an old skin, you lift off your shirt, wearing nothing underneath. the sound of the water running beside yours and his silence is soothing.

you unbutton your pants- dirtied and wrecked with the past. gladly, feeling an odd sense of relief removing the burden from your body. a physical purging of a broken life.

michael obviously notices your gesture, and your body- but he tries not to pay over-attention, in fear that it would make you uncomfortable.

but who is he kidding.. by this point can he really be so blind to your advances? if you didn’t want him to see you, wouldn’t you just shower downstairs, without him?

he just can’t understand how willing you are, but he appreciates it, deep down.. and he has no idea how much you’re really going to make him feel loved..

“i don’t mind if you look, michael.. in fact, i want you to.” you say, a sensuous tone underlying your voice as you saunter towards him, standing tall at your short height beside the tub. you put your hand on one of your hips, gazing up at him, so excited for your future with him..

the son of an inventor of animatronics.. kinda hot, you think. and the inventor himself too, no doubt.. just something about a genius, and that he created robots and metal marvels- you’ve always been drawn to them as well. more insight into why william is a captivating creature to you.

you’ve accepted by now, your strange fascinations for things that are extremely unordinary. but, you’d never take advantage of them. the fact that they exist, and right in front of you- fills a part of you that has been long barren.

now that you’re so close, he finally focuses more on you. you forcing yourself into his bubble makes him a little more panicked.

but at this point, he can’t help but look at your display- dazed. his eyes sink into the soft curves and gentle, flushed skin all over you.. all for him.

he feels conflicted, mixed feelings of lust from seeing you stand before him now, fully vulnerable and expecting him to do the same.

you hear him exhale softly, appreciating the look on his face. a pressure is being released somewhere deep within him. this sight is enough to make him feel like he’s dreaming.

but don’t let this opportunity escape you, he thinks. she’s literally giving herself to you.. the fuck are you waiting for?

oh yeah.. my body.

he hesitates at the preparation of his own undressing- he’s not looking forward to this nearly as much as you, due to expecting the worst.

but, the amount that you’re enjoying him- he’s gotta reason with that.. or rather, just accept it..

you can sense his unrelenting anxiety and reach down to take his hand, bringing it up slowly to your breast, against your loudly beating heart..

he seems to hold his breath, as if to be able to hear it.. he feels its strong, consistent thump. warm, alive, there.. real.. reliable.

slowly he begins to melt, you see him physically unstiffen- like you’re absorbing all of his fears in the moment. he leans into you slightly, something so visceral and enjoyable about feeling your heartbeat.

he’s entranced by it, maybe because he hasn’t felt one in so long.

..

“this.. feels nice.” he says, his voice barely a murmur.

you keep his hand there, your fingers clasping securely around his in silent affection.

“don’t worry about yourself, i know i’ll love what you look like no matter what..” you study his face as this all happens, finding pleasure in his captivation of you.

michael pauses, thinking about the emptiness that lies below his own overlay.

shamelessly, you stand nude before him- hoping the sight of you calms his senses enough for him to forget about everything for the rest of the time..

the way you let him touch your heart- skin to skin, an ultimate display of trust. he feels a bud of confidence begin to sprout. he doesn’t want to let clumsy words ruin this careful tension you’re building, so instead- he takes a steady breath, looking at you to ground himself before then looking down at his own body.

you watch him in a somehow contained, overzealous manner, knowing you’re finally about to see michael’s body…

he brings his hands down to the hem of the t shirt, crossing his arms as he slowly lifts it off- he can feel shame returning, slicing like a hot knife through his chest.. its post-mortem state he prays isn’t enough to make you want to vomit your breakfast right there.

you watch carefully- observing the soft, violet ribs that are progressively revealed.. each one so delicate and bare that you understand why he felt a need to hide away from the world.

like the sight of it alone for himself was a reminder of all the pain and suffering he and his father caused..

with his shirt off, he tosses it over to your pile of clothes. he stands before you, waiting- almost wincing for your reaction, and your rejection..

you can see the parts of him that are still human.. the muscles of what skin is left, but now you see more of his structure- the soft scent of metal and mallow permeating through your mind, unfamiliar but enticing.

in fact, you can actually see metal parts intertwining with what’s left if his innards. it looks so.. painful. you immediately feel sad for him, knowing he’s pretty much constantly being poked and threatened by sharp, unnatural objects at all times.

you step as close as you can now, intrigued by his ability to function with this as his body.

he lets you take him in, his nerves on fire from shame- attempting to shake it so you don’t think he’s a wimp for being so dysphoric.

but you understand why now, why his body is a constant reminder of everything that has gone so wrong in his life.

and why his hatred for william still goes strong..

“well.. do you hate me, yet?” he says, a clear buzz of anguish filling his voice to the brim.

you just stare at him in awe, your hand slowly reaching up to touch one of his ribs- remembering you had felt this under your shirt when you pressed up against him at fazbear’s fright.

he watches you, refraining from saying anything else until you do. you touch the surface, it feels slightly rough, gritty.. you rub your thumb down the length of one, then another.. seeing how they all connect, suddenly remembering that this is what your body looks like underneath your flesh.

he appreciates your touch, leaning into it at how surprisingly good it feels- like you’re lathering a balm along the length of his soul.

your fingers are soft, delicate.. reassuring. he feels like a dog who has been long abandoned, experiencing the sensation of someone’s love for the first time ever.

you can see the other side of him, the fact he is practically see-through waves a feeling of unrest in you.

“michael.. i’m so sorry…” you can’t help but say, a slight jitter in your voice from understanding now, all of his unending pain through this sight alone.

he hesitates, then watches you slowly wrap your arms around him- in another quiet, loving embrace from you.

he’s getting a lot of hugs and kisses from you, each one bringing him down to ground level. but this one, this feels different from the others so far. the fact you are okay with your beautiful, living human breasts pressing up against his exposed, barren ribcage-

he feels.. at home. safe. that edge of hardness is being chipped away at, slowly.. with every loving gesture you give him.

and it’s forcing his mind to awaken, to think the same about you- that he wants to make you feel as good as you’re attempting to make him feel.

all this effort, that he thought- was never wasted on his shitty, throw-away life until you stepped up to the plate.

he doesn’t want your pity, but he understands it. you can’t help it, but he doesn’t want this to make you think he’s incapable of things- he’s not handicapped.

“yeah, thanks.. appreciate it.” he says, still focused on his own body, but he really wants to ignore it and pay attention to yours..

“let’s just.. get in,” he says, slightly tired- over this. finally he removes his trousers and steps into the shower that is now hot and steamy.

a welcoming portal you’re about to enter with michael, enclosed and the most intimate you both will be together thus far..

you nod, stepping in after him- watching the comforting, hot stream make contact with his dusty violet skin, the drips falling through the spaces of him.

you can see now, of course- his bottom half. somehow, this is still miraculously intact- completely and utterly.. that much is alive.

you feel a flutter of joy knowing this now, that he has the ability to pleasure you- you wonder briefly what sex will be like with him.. you can’t help it, seeing him naked now. probably cute, awkward.. innocent. hopefully he will want it from you, too..

that will have to wait though, just a little longer. you don’t realize how exhausted you are due to your persisting excitement for him. the novelty of michael and his life keep you interested, almost like you never had a life before him.

..

you move into the line of the waterfall pouring onto you- it feels exhilarating, relieving. he stands behind you- closing the curtain on the both of you.

he stares at your backside now, reaching over to pump some shampoo into his hand. you let the water rinse off the top layer of residue from you, dew covering your skin.

he thinks what he possibly could have done to deserve this.. deserve you. but he finally decides to forget about it all.

he steps in close behind you, the feeling bringing you an unmeasurable amount of happiness.

“i’ll wash you.. if you’ll let me.” he says, his voice suggestive of some truly long awaited pent up energy.

you smile towards him in confirmation, then pressing up to his front- the sudden motion making him hold onto you in case you happen to slip.

the gesture sends a rush of adoration through you, for him. he thinks you’re fragile in some way, like he wants to protect you now that you’ve given him so much grace.

“i’ll take that as a yes..” he says, bringing his hands up to your hair, lathering it with the shampoo. you absolutely love head massages.. this is going to be so awesome..

you let him wash your hair, the gesture distinctly primal- so insanely intimate. you can feel your blood pressure having trouble deciding whether to raise due to his innate sense of sensuality, or lower due to the sheer comfort of someone else running their fingers through your hair..

you let a small sound like a moan out, then giggle when you catch yourself.

“wow.. it feels that good?” he says, slightly amused.

“yes.. i love head massages. any kind of massage really.. especially if you’re the one doing it,” you say tilting your head along his touch- his hands reaching the sides of your temples, so thourough.

he brushes it down, allowing the water to do the rest. you turn around, facing him now.

“cheeky. you’re something else..” he smirks, the dreamy state of you two, alone in your little world..

he’s finally learning to let go a little. the shower with you feels cleansing, renewing- like a baptism.

he lets you run your fingers through his dark, slightly wavy hair- its length appearing even longer now that it’s wet. you’ve always loved guys with longer hair.. it’s cute. and more softness to touch..

he leans into your pressure, understanding what you mean now. he had no idea how good it would feel, it’s definitely different when someone else does it. your nerves aren’t expecting it, like when you do it yourself.

you see the look of peace on his face, a feeling within you of endless joy knowing that you’re the one pacifying him.

..

now comes the fun part.

you both take some soap into your hands, seeming more than excited to explore each other’s body.

michael is learning to be less self conscious, to care less about how he looks.. since you don’t seem to care much do you?

“turn around, let me get your back first..” you say, knowing most of his front is seemingly fragile- a lot of it probably unnecessary to clean.

little do you know, the way he has to clean himself is so meticulous. it’s surprising that he’s letting you do it for him.

you run your hands along his back, the structure of his body mostly human, mostly real.. it feels good under your fingertips, a man full of fear and loathing, buckling under your touch. you can feel all the tension between his shoulders loosening as you massage through- thick like hundred year old vines, vice gripped around itself.

you love feeling him, a beautiful enigma now wonderfully part of your life.

you reach your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his upper back- giggling in your smitten, warm bubble together.

he sighs at this soapy sanctuary, someone wants to have their hands on him.. the feeling of it is so intense, it’s becoming like a high in itself.

..

“you don’t need to worry about this.. i just let the soap from my hair clean it. otherwise it.. kinda hurts too much.” he says, already tolerating a degree of pain through the shower ordeal.

that’s his life though, he’s used to it by now. but your presence certainly makes the sharpness of it less noticable. he can pay less attention to it having a pretty face to look at, a comforting voice to listen to.

he starts on you, placing his hands on you carefully, like you’re so delicate you could break under his touch. he’s not used to having something so precious and constant in his life.

he feels up and down your plushy, pulsing skin.. the color of you is so vibrant, reddened- warm. so many sensations all at once, he feels hypnotized- drugged by your radical acceptance of him.

“god, you’re really hot..” he says, unable to resist- a huff of breath releasing as he glides his hand along your hip, then around to your lower back. he pulls you closer, you can feel his erection now pressing against you..

your heart bangs against his hollow chest, an overwhelming love pouring out of you at how much he wants this, and wants you..

he pulls back slightly keeping your lower halves in contact- to feel around your breast, rubbing a thumb over your nipple that’s hard. your body is so welcoming to him, so present.

“and i think.. i love you too.” he says, realizing how your heart is beating fast for him.

you’re entranced by his ability to be so gentle with you, including your body. how it’s clear he doesn’t want to take advantage of you in any way.

“it sounds so nice when you say it..” you murmur, leaning up and finding his lower lip- sucking it into your mouth to nibble on it a little.

he eases into you, closing his eyes finally- letting the walls slip away..

he lets you kiss him, this one is definitely different from the one he experienced at fazbear’s. that one was sweet, light- feathery, an invitation for more.

this one is deeper, meaningful- full of undeniable desire, as you lick around his lips- both of your tongues meeting in a lustful union.

you hear but the slightest release of a moan from michael, the sound making a round of fireworks imploding within you.

finally, you’re thawing his cold, unattended heart- in the best way you know how. and someone is accepting it from you, not fighting it- not judging you for it.

he needs to keep touching you, he realizes. this magnetism he has to you now is slightly addictive. he’s choosing to forget about the deserving aspect of it, his self worth being slowly rebuilt by you..

with a loving bite to your lip- he breaks the seal to turn you around, sliding his soapy hands down your shoulders and back, down further, cupping a cheek with one hand- hooking his hand onto your hip.. impulsively feeling the warm, easy comfort that you’re providing.

you feel his hardness pressing right up to your backside now, his breathing is increasing in pace- as something more primal is clawing its way to the surface.

the sound of his breath, knowing you’re the cause of it- turns you on even more.

“maybe.. we should do this elsewhere.. i don’t want us to get hurt while having fun,” michael says, his voice barely hovering above the sound of the pulsing stream of water.

you like the sound of that, now that you’re both clean- and now that he’s getting hotter under the collar.

he adds, as you turn off the water, “don’t need two dead people in the house,” he looks towards you, putting the towel out for you both to step onto.

you giggle as your feet touch the soft, grounding floor. goosebumps form on your skin as he hands you the other towel to wrap around you.

“you make a good washcloth,” you say, him beaming a more genuine smile your way.

there it is.. the real michael afton.  you haven’t really seen much of it until now, but that face shows you’ve repaired some of the damage. up until now, his expressions seemed reluctant. reluctant to let go, like his own father’s reliance on grudges leaked its tar onto him-

he’s starting to feel more at home here, more than he has in a long time. the awful reminder of this house’s history is being rewritten by you..

here you both are, in a world of your own.. all your sorrows you’ll leave far behind.

for now.

Chapter Text

while you and michael have been enjoying extensive time bonding, william waits. silently, inside his decayed suit- the fazbear’s fright building like a kind of twisted matryoshka purgatory.

the sunbeams cast a strong ray through a crack in a clouded window. william moves out of the line of it, back into the shadows- mechanical eyes adjusting to the abyss.

he can’t wait for it to get dark again.

he wonders what you two are up to..

he has a feeling he knows, and he’s ready to take this “friend” thing a bit more seriously the next time he sees you.

william remembers what it was like to be in love, but that feeling was so absorbed by self interest. his work always came first. he never had time for his family when he and henry had created so much together, and had the potential to create so much more..

he loved it that way.. he tried to keep the family together, allowing them to stay in the pizzeria oftentimes- but his favorite.. of course his favorite child hated his creations. he wishes he had done more to protect him from michael. not realizing though, in his own bizarre logic that michael is still his son, not an enemy. but he treats him as such, like the bane of his existence.

it’s been so long, sitting here.. rotting away. he’s beginning to pity himself, a brush of rage as he thinks about his son who roams free.. the one he meant to get rid of all along.

..at least the scooper did half the job, why doesn’t he just kill michael.. just finish it?

is there really a point to all of that now? it’s almost like every child william murdered, he imagined was him..

would he really get any satisfaction from killing him now? probably. the bloodthirst lies steadily beneath the old facade. it’s only softened slightly due to your influence.

but now he has more of a reason to make sure michael isn’t around, to have you all to himself..

he snarls, to himself in the dark:

“tick,

tock.”

..

and yet he sits here, moping- a contraption gazing upon the high flying bird, way up in the sky now that is michael..

he’s riding in the air all too easy, all for what he did to him.

william’s ability to function under the influence of remnant makes him abnormally strong, and fuels his drive to kill even further. the agony of haunted souls surrounding the place only serves as kindling for the inflammatory hellfire that is his mind. 

still, doesn’t make it any less unbearable to be trapped inside- forever entangled in the creation that his life of perturbed passion drove him to.

but he’s definitely made good use of it so far.. the blood painting the suit like a horrific and beautiful canvas.. proves that.

..

michael himself feels desecrated, his body is evidence of that. held together by this thing called remnant, stitched together by agony- he’s learned to just feel numb, but it doesn’t erase the constant pang of disgust he feels.

not only is he fifty percent of william, but he has been seriously robbed of life. he possesses a thing that his own father brought to fruition through persistent and tedious research..

it invades his body like a parasite, and in a real way- with how ennard forced his way in and rearranged the inside of him..

he’ll never forget that, how it felt.. the scooper.

he remembers how there was so much blood, all his own blood.. gushing out, his mind slowly blanking as seconds passed..

the delicate organs were taken away, replaced with icy, solid.. aching metal.

he realizes now why you gave him unease at the start, with your sweet and soft voice- so reminiscent of circus baby.

her gentle words gave michael comfort, he trusted her- only for her to betray him just like she did elizabeth.

he was feeling vulnerable, at such a low point of his life- attempting to make right and stuck like a hamster on a wheel, having no choice but to be damned within the atrocious empire that was william and henry’s.

who knew it would lead to such a horrendous fate?

..

despite the tiredness rippling through the both of you, the attraction holds strong- enough for michael to want to take care of this irresistible feeling he now has for you.

before you leave the bathroom, you both brush your teeth- to complete this step so you can just pass right out afterwards.

you both gaze into the mirror as you do so, your eyes meeting his as you giggle a little.

he smiles through the toothpaste foam, making you giggle harder.

he has the best smile you’ve ever seen, more because it was so hard to see one like that before on his beautifully worn face. the ability you have of being able to bring him to the present, is special and he knows it.

the shower with him felt so nice, so close.. the most at peace you’ve been with another person..

after brushing out your hair, you both re-enter his bedroom. you glance at the time on his digital clock, reading 11:27am.

this new way of life is so interesting.. becoming nocturnal. it must have been hell for him up to this point.

michael moves over to the window to close the curtains, the light from the welcoming sun outside becoming dimmer in the room- turning it into a hidden treasure, one that you’ve already unburied.

you look over at his bed, the comforter and sheets sprawled about in such a way that suggests it is a giant cloud made especially for the two of you.

you touch the fabric, sliding into the side closest to the wall, the coolness of the sheets brushing your legs. your body heat quickly warms them as he closes the bedroom door, locking it.

he had already locked the downstairs door after taking the breakfast order from the driver. normally, michael waits until the driver leaves to grab the food- for obvious reasons. but the drivers are usually too busy to pay any mind to the person taking the bag, this being one of those times, thankfully.

but he takes no chances with safety knowing the house this belongs to. luckily it’s in a more secluded area, and enough time has passed to write off a lot of missing child cases as cold.. doesn’t even seem like the police are searching anymore for them, with how many there are.. it probably got pretty overwhelming, and fast.

william’s reign of terror just continued. no one figured out that some of the suits could be worn by people..

that is, until it was too late for them.

..

this house before you, was both a safe haven and a prison. a place full of unforgotten memories and a stale sanctuary to return to. he’s gotten used to being a homebody, but it works for you..

you’re okay with staying in one place most of the time, his way of hiding away makes you feel better knowing you two are so similar. even if his fate was decided for him, and he’d rather be someone that could enjoy the natural pleasures of a social life- he’s content with this as his reality now that he has someone to spend it with.

michael makes his way to you, lifting the covers to enter next to your spot in his bed.

you feel so safe, in this nest with him. for many years he rested, restlessly without anyone beside him. alone with his thoughts, alone with the dead children- voices murmuring so loud at times it would wake him up. he tried his best to ignore it, but they always grew louder- it was often useless trying to get back to sleep.

but now you’re here.. and maybe just maybe, he can get through six.. or seven full hours of sleep, uninterrupted. that would be something. that would make him feel so much better, being able to get through a shift without almost passing out.

“thank you for everything, michael.. for letting me stay here with you. you’ve been so kind to me, i don’t want you to think i’m using you for anything..” you say, quietly- his body so close to you under the protective, secure bedsheets, that he can feel all of your warmth penetrating his cold exterior.

“you don’t have to thank me. seriously.. and what could you use me for, voodoo?” he smirks, his hair glistening with post shower dew.

you realize how you haven’t told him your story yet.. it wasn’t nearly as eventful, that’s for sure. you’ll only bring it up if he asks, since.. it’s been nice forgetting it happened.

you both lay in the silence for a moment, the sound of you two breathing being the only audio in the room.

“this isn’t my first time, if you’re wondering that..” he announces, trying to regain some confidence when he realizes how long it’s been since he’s done this.

“when was the last time?”

he shouldn’t have said anything. “uh.. it was… before i got like this.” he’s really winning you over now. this moment feels like a palm in the face.

you move so that your back is turned to him, then press your entire backside up against his front, fitting into his body like a puzzle piece..

“before you got like.. what?” you ask, wondering if he’s willing to tell you more.

he’s startled slightly at your movement, the ache in him returning as you nudge yourself into his groin.

“scooped..” he responds, his hand snaking its way around your torso. he instinctively pulls you up to his chest, cuddling you like a life-sized freddy plush. “do i really need to elaborate on this right now..?”

you can tell he’s beginning to have a hard time resisting you.

“no.. it can wait. you’re really pent up, aren’t you?” you murmur with a bite of seduction, rubbing into his hard-on even more- you can hear a soft groan come out of him as he buries his face into the back of your neck.

“god.. you’re gonna make me come before we even do anything,” he mumbles, his hand moving up the supple skin of your stomach, gripping softly around your breast.

you’re so ready for this, you can feel how wet he’s making you.. he squeezes softly, noticing again that steady, pounding heartbeat behind your vital skin.

he wishes so badly his could be pounding against yours too, but this is enough.. it feels like all of his sorrows are being taken in through your pulse.. just wait until he gets inside you.

your quiet moans slip through his ears, a symphony of pleasure he can’t wait to raise the volume of.

you feel an urge to erase the memories of your recent past.. let him imprint new ones onto you.. into you.

“same here..” you whimper, melting under his touch.. your body feeling a similar, jiggly haze as you felt when you were high.

he pulls back the covers to expose the whole of you, he wants to see everything he’s doing to you- knowing he’s gotta take it moment by moment as he’s definitely inexperienced.

“how do you want to do this?” he asks, also thinking to himself about what will be the least painful in repetition.

oh my god, he communicates right off the bat- you think. how amazing, what? you have no words. don’t even think them right now, just get it on!

“i want you to take it all out on me, from behind..” you prop yourself up so you can take off the shirt, revealing your bareness again- so enchanting in the fact that parts of michael are truly exposed, delicate undead bones colliding with your palpitating deep cover that is your skin.

he thinks briefly, imagining the scene. he gets a little lost in it before deciding to finally ravish you.

michael takes a steady breath before hooking his hand around your hip, then repositioning you so you fit snugly below him- he takes in the sight of you- a feast for his eyes, an elixir for his essence.

he prepares himself, noticing the gorgeous flush of redness across your back- already shining with sweat, with anticipation.. he guides himself along to find you, such an unfamilar feeling he cannot wait to make a familiar thing again.

he presses inside with ease, from the soaking state of you.

immediately he feels a desperate relief, shockwaves of a joy he had forgotten about are reclaiming the corners of his mind and soul again.

as he crosses the threshold of you, you let out a primal cry- the sound jarring him into reality. his new reality, a not so shitty one- finally.

he hovers over you, moving an arm to grasp around your body, holding you in a secure clutch as he slowly thrusts- the feeling of you around him is a neverending, reassuring wave of hot, tingly euphoria hugging his entire body..

for the first time in a while, he can not think. his mind is slowing down, but his emotions are revving up from a long buried, carnal desire.

it’s causing the little ones to stir, uncomfortably. he ignores it desperately to really focus on your body, on the rhythm of pleasuring you- and it’s giving him a newer sense of purpose, of vitality.

not gonna let you guys ruin this, he thinks- he knows it sounds cruel. but come on, cut him a break this time..

he erases the distractions with deliberate movements, noticing how much you’re gripping around him now. he can see the rise and fall of your rapid breath, savoring the sight of you huffing eagerly for him.

“you feel so good..” he can’t help but mutter out, placing a hand along your back to steady himself and to drag it along, feeling the softness, curves.. intoxicated by you.

“you.. too..” you manage between breaths, your body humming with an impressive frequency, pressed tightly against him entirely- you both function like a well-oiled machine..

the utter care he is putting into fucking you.. like he wants to be as close as he possibly can be, feeling the embrace inside of you- but not wanting to cause you any pain. no one has cared for your body in such a way, like it was the temple of god itself.

michael completely ignores the pain in his ribs, the grinding of metal against insides- your genuine passion for him is overwhelming all of his senses at once.

he narrows in on the intense heat and pressure of you squeezing him- this biological response your body has, refusing to let any of him go..

she’s mine.. i hope she knows that.. he thinks, praying deep down below that you won’t prefer his father over him. he loathes that this even crosses his mind, but he can’t help it. he can’t stand the idea of losing you to someone, now that he’s experiencing this ultimate bond with you.

but how could you.. when michael has a body to make you feel good with? he has his human arms still, that he can hug you with- and other things as we know..

he’s falling hard now, being in this vulnerable dance in the daylight.

you feel a shameful sense of accomplishment, knowing you’ve captivated the non-existent heart of an unexpectedly attractive zombie.. but you know again, deep down, that this is the life you’ve always wanted- this little secret you don’t even have to keep from anyone.

he makes sure every part of him is anchored to you, pressed against your wildly kinetic and relatively noisy vessel.. he trails along to find your breast again, the insane beat of your heart feeling like it could explode in his hand. he hones in on its enigmatic pulse, how it translates into passion for him. how it’s like he forgets he was ever alive, as he never payed much attention to his own beating heart when he had one. he feels himself being absorbed into the womb that has become your entire body.

indulging in the fire of your warm and wet hug, feeling the adorable slosh of all of you lapping against him- so much of it there that he can even catch the faintest hint of your scent, driving his id to lose himself further down into the abyss of you.

he’s still amazed you’re allowing him to do this, even more so at your reaction to his first time doing it in so many years.

michael dissipates into the tune of your cries and of both of your luxuriant fluids colliding, like water walloping against the cold cement of a boating dock- you enjoy how much he’s encaspulating you, the most he’s touched you since you’ve met. you can tell how badly he needed this.

then suddenly, he comes- you knew it would be short, you gotta build up his tolerance..

you feel the hot, steady pumps of his frustrations one after another into you, enjoying the blissful injection. you’re honestly surprised he lasted this long.

from your end, receiving him feels saccharine- like melted chocolate.. indulgent and deep in the most profound way. you miraculously are able to climax in the wave of his own awakening, due to his automatized affection.

the synchronicity of your finale with michael brings a fulfillment to your heart that never existed before this day.. the relief of sweet hormones rushing through, blood settling after gathering.

it’s like you’re being born again, both of your perspectives on life are being changed slowly by the mysterious kaleidescope of innocence, and a love knowing no bounds.

your limbs mostly deadweight as you collapse, rolling onto your back, your half-lidded eyes gazing up at him- slowly widening at the sight of blood falling through the spaces of michael’s cavernous chest.

it drips delicately onto your stomach.. stunning, fresh red drops glistening on the surface of your steadily rising and falling gut.

his expression seems relieved. you can tell that his release did something to soothe him. but.. something in his face looks uneased. he looks slightly unsatisfied, but he stays above you- eyes glassy- processing the damage, punishment.

“are you in pain right now?” you ask, the drops suggestive of life now on your skin. you feel an irresistible urge to make another part of michael paint the inside of you.

“always. i don’t care though. you made me feel really good, i want you to know that.” he says, regaining control of his breathing again, the blood continuing to drip as it forms a stream along the length of your abs.

he tries not to let the humiliation of this ruin the moment. nothing can ruin this for him. you realize how much he was holding back for you, the whole time.

what he said just now made you feel right, his words are intensely comforting and honest..

he watches as you bring a finger down to gather some of his blood onto it, then slowly to your lips- the scent of iron and sensation of heat fluttering, teasing your mouth.

he can’t believe you, licking up his blood so wantonly- who really is the monster here? guess it’s a monster party. erm.. monster mash? nah, that’ll come later..

your eyes pierce through him, the gesture making him truly wonder what kind of creature you are. it’s primal though, and a relief- he’ll give you that much. it’s.. certainly not the reaction he was expecting.

kinda hot, actually.

“wow.. you really like me huh?” he says, a hint of pride laced in his tone- at the fact you can’t seem to get enough of his bodily fluids. it’s satisfying, seeing how you landed into his lonely nest and made yourself at home there.

for once, he could do something more than just read a book, or replace an animatronic faceplate, or flip a security camera screen on a monitor.. he’s been missing companionship for so long, that he thought circus baby- an invention of his father- was benevolent enough to not fuck with him.

you smile innocently through the blood now decorating your lips- the deep, visceral taste of michael a new part of your repertoire.

you enjoy the silence, how it forces him to come up with adorable words to fill the air of your bewitchment.

“you really are something else, you know that?” he remarks, breaking the bubble of gravity above you as he grabs the fazbear shirt from earlier, to wipe the blood still stuck to his ribs.

suddenly, he gets an intense jolt of agony- searing through as he realizes he made a stupid mistake. you flinch a little at his abrupt change in emotion, knowing there’s still things you have yet to understand about him.

“oh yeah, using this shirt was a great idea. you guys remind me of how fucking sensitive my brother was.” he grumbles, getting up and grabbing the shirt he wore earlier to finish the job, and clean himself up down below..

“who are you talking to?” you ask, confused at his dialogue directed at seemingly no one.

he hasn’t told you about the scooper yet. he lets out a small sigh, refusing to let this overrule the slice of heaven he had a few moments ago with you.

“let’s save it.. i promise i’ll tell you tomorrow.” he says more gentler, his voice regaining some stability after he takes a moment to understand for himself- that he has to try to be the stronger one now that you’re here. but the angst comes through still. understandably so, as he can’t see the knife of agony before it slashes.

the physical pain of it is what keeps him truly troubled, how it constantly redirects his focus even to this day. how the tangled mess of his abdomen appears- how it still aches and bleeds. maybe it’s even more frustrating because he has someone to impress now.. but mostly, someone to be strong for.

he is fragile, but he doesn’t want to wear it anymore.. he has a reason to step up, he has to brave it all now that you’re here to protect.

..

“okay. i think i have something that can help your situation.. whatever it may be. i have a feeling it might help..” you start, sliding your legs off the bed to join him in front of the vanity mirror.

michael watches you, curiously, in your nude state- his scarlet stain still ever present and shining on your glowing skin. so far, you’ve been surprisingly in tune with his needs. this one might be the humdinger thus far.

you lean down slightly, at his chest level- like getting down to the height of a child.

based on what he’s told you so far, and the numerous stephen king books you’ve read.. you have an idea what’s going on here.

softly, you begin to sing a melody. the wondrous and angelic tune of an australian lullaby- the lullaby called “morningtown ride,” sung by the seekers.. of course.

michael is quickly entranced, relishing in the sweet honey that is your voice.. he listens again to the words, like he himself is seven years old again..

train whistle blowing,

makes a sleepy noise

underneath their blankets,

go all the girls and boys..

rocking rolling riding,

out along the bay

all bound for morningtown

many miles away..

for the first time ever, the feeling of a dull ache fades- and is replaced with a popping, tickling sensation.

all over michael’s chest is a buzzing like fizzy faz- it almost feels like a wound’s itch in the process of healing. he can’t help but laugh, like someone from inside is trying to cause a reaction.

maybe it is raining,

where our train will ride

all the little travellers

are warm and snug inside..

you realize how cute, and fitting this song is.. knowing his body is like the train of transport, carrying all those little lost kids..

the feeling continues to radiate in his chest, you love the sound of his laugh- it’s raw, like he hasn’t really done it much before you.

or, rather one of the last times was when he scared evan. and this sound right now is organic, and free. you know for a fact that he isn’t feeling any pain right now.

and you love how you’re brushing out the knot that causes him constant turmoil. you found something that works.. he can’t understand how you knew without really knowing.

“oh my god.. what is going on?” he manages through the laughter. “does this mean they’re happy or something?” he looks down at his cavity, seeing nothing but feeling everything.

“and tell me how the fuck you knew?” he adds, looking towards you with an undeniable loving gleam in his eyes, silently thanking you for making him feel something other than suffering.

“dunno.. just had a feeling. your story gave away a lot.. and i’ve read a lot of- interesting media.” you say, hoping that’s enough justification.

michael brings a hand to his face, then looks you up and down- he seems like he doesn’t know what to do, so he just wraps his arms around you rather tightly.. this hug more sure, full of hope..

“you’re incredible.. don’t know what the fuck i did to deserve you, but i don’t care.. i’ll love you forever if you love me the same..”

michael can feel his heart, what’s left of it.. unraveling before you like a scroll, written with all the blunders- appreciating the forgiveness and pure love you provide.

after this golden morning and magical night with you, he is forming an attachment- his feelings are becoming entangled in your therapy.. it’s remarkable how you are both able to strike each other’s drum at the right moments.

“sounds like a deal..” you say, perching your hands on his forearms as you lean up to kiss him on the mouth, leaving your lips there a moment- a smear of his own blood that remained on you now appears across his, like some demented lipstick stain.

he beams at you- but you notice the exhaustion on his face from all this- the bags under his eyes are accentuated in the subtle streams of light through the shadowy curtains.

“let’s go to bed. we both need it.. badly,” you murmur softly by his ear. the lullaby seems to have made him ready to snooze, as well as the rock a bye of your body against his..

“you should sing me to sleep every night,” he says, jokingly. “i’m sure they’d love it too.” he takes your hand, guiding you back to the bed with him as he lets you get in first.

instinctively, he lays on the side of the door- just like back in the security office. he faces the danger, and puts himself in harms way for you.

“if you make promises and break them, do they get upset?” you inquire, a yawn slipping past your lips as your body post sex, post serenade sinks into the cool mattress.

“i guess.. let’s not find out,” he covers the both of you again, spooning you. his arms wrap around you, safely.. like an angel of death.

your living, pulsing warmth seeps into his body, he craves it- hugging you in the hopes you won’t disappear the moment he wakes up. hoping you aren’t just a hallucination.. that’s too good to be true. he’s had to deal with so much peril and fuckery from his father and his business that it feels like an illusion he could easily conjure up. he prays you are real. even after being inside you, he still needs reassurance.. the sleep deprivation alone is enough to make him feel like he’s losing his mind most of the time.

as both of your heads rest against the plushy pillows, he presses his forehead into your newly washed hair- closing his eyes, taking in the scent of his shampoo in your soft, delicate strands.

here, real, still.. he thinks.

“goodnight, michael.. sweet dreams..” you whisper, your voice replacing the memory of circus baby’s haunting croon.

he simply buries his face into the back of your neck, muscles finally relaxing- for the first time in a long time he’s not on edge the moment his head hits the pillow. he doesn’t feel like he has to sleep with an eye open, he feels safe- so safe with you.

“night.. love you..” he murmurs, beginning to fall asleep to the sound and feel of your heartbeat against him- so therapeutic he feels himself melting into a dream as you wish him the same..

”i love you too,” you whisper- mind slowly falling down the hypnotic spiral of sleep as you wallow in his arms that are locked around you like an iron maiden.

you both drift off- cuddled by the soft sanctuary of the bed, the quiet state of the room, the house.. everything still inside. while everything moves outside, but peacefully- where you reside in a countryside..

all bound for morningtown, erm.. eveningville?

william can’t wait.. he sits still, like a wolf in the shadows, licking its lips. an insanity pervading his mind as he plots what fun you’ll have together.

what fun you’ll have.. as he thinks about a way to catch and eat that bird.

fly high, michael- and don’t look down..

..

Chapter Text

..

the time is a little past 7pm. your position in the bed has shifted into a gothic renaissance scene. you lay, arm around the pillow- as michael somehow ended up lower on your body, arms wrapped around your torso with his face buried into your back.

he’s the first to stir awake. he notices how he slept through all the way, completely.. no interruptions.

holding you like a body pillow, he shifts back up to a more appropriate spot. nuzzling into the crook of your neck- smiling into you, taking in your sweet, humanly scent.

your natural scent.. it’s soft and present. his lips brush the pulse of the inner part of your neck, he can’t help kissing the surface- squeezing you a little bit tighter.

you’re still here.. he thinks. not a dream. not his tousled mind falling apart at the seams. the bump of your blood pumping through that artery under your skin proves that, finally.. finally he can rest assured knowing you are real after being unconscious for seven whole hours!

he can’t believe it.. and it’s all thanks to you. he feels a little different than usual after he wakes up. not the typical grogginess, depression, and overall malaise he feels on a daily basis.

you’re still asleep despite all his moving around. he just watches you- shadowy eyes half-lidded, feeling the steady rise and fall of your breath. taking pleasure in this cocoon of your warmth.. he takes his fingers and glides them along the length of your arm, wounded soldiers seeking the shelter that is your gentle skin.

the tickling awakens you, a soft hitch in your breathing as you become lucid- feeling the arms around you from hours ago.

you feel his breath on your neck, the sound and sensation of it so pleasant.. this man who has gently taken you under his wing, has no hurtful intentions. you love how even though he thought his brother was sensitive, he has many moments of that..

you stretch your back slightly and then settle back into his hold more. he knows youre awake now, appreciating your lovely self wanting to be close to him so much..

he waits for you to say something, your sleeping beauty-like form making him feel so at ease he doesn’t need to fill the space with words. his routine always consisted of intense anxiety upon waking, so much so he had considered going on some kind of medication to alleviate it.

somehow, he still hasn’t yet. he isn’t sure what effects those would have on his body, in its current state. heat is the only thing he knows of that can destroy remnant, but who knows if there are other things. why he wanted to live so badly, he wasn’t sure. maybe unknowingly, he was saving his life to spend with you.

“hey.. how’d you sleep?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“fantastic. for the first time in years,” you feel him smile against your neck- his voice filled with a post slumber rasp. you can tell he seems better. his tone is vastly different from a lot of yesterday’s talk.

the lack of sleep causes you to be more unsettled, more angry and irritable. you’ve had many nights of it before as well. back when you lived with you know who.. he made you feel unsafe, and down about yourself- so often times it was hard to sleep. you’re so familiar with sleepless nights, who knew you and michael had been experiencing the same thing- without each other.

getting used to this circadian rhythm switch may be a little difficult, but you don’t notice a difference. you feel a lot better if anything, after that long and weary dusk and dawn with the dead.

“that’s so good to hear, me too..” you say, your mind bubbling with oxytocin as you could die happy here, right now if it happened.

michael groans a little, remembering he has to go to work soon. remembering who is there, probably waiting for you both already.

“ugh. i really am not looking forward to going back tonight..” he mumbles, nuzzling into your hair, taking some strands in between his fingers and curling it around like an attempt to self soothe.

you can’t lie, you’re a little excited to see william again. you decide it’s not a good idea to disclose that to him, though.

“at least i’ll be there with you.. right?”

that sounds nice. someone to keep him company all those hours there.. he understands why you do it now, because you love him..

someone loves him, michael afton- undead hermit michael afton has someone to love him, and someone to give it to..

lost in his romantic trains of thought, he says with a newfound peace in tone:

“yeah. these shifts are gonna be a breeze now.”

..

suddenly, the jarring sound of the doorbell startles you both- a slight panic breaking through the tranquility of your moment in time together.

you both sit up, looking towards the door- then back at each other.

“who the fuck is that?” he has no idea, he hasn’t had anyone coming to his door in years.. since the pigs quit sniffing him out and the girlscouts stopped showing up with their delicious cookies.

you worry, this could be someone looking for you. you have a feeling it is, as your ex was smart with the law and with finding you. this time you’ve been good at staying away, but an anxiety begins to rise in you a little.

“could be for me.. i’m scared. what do we do?” you ask, quietly- the doorbell ringing again, followed by knocks on the door.

“don’t worry, i’ll answer the door.. just, give me a second to figure out how..”

michael thinks for a moment. he remembers william’s office and planning room, and how there were still prototype masks of the animatronics in there from when he was alive. he keeps that room locked, the key located in a small jar in a drawer somewhere out of sight and out of mind.

it sounds odd, but william’s leftover resources may be helpful in this situation.

he wastes no time, putting on a t shirt- as you move to the closet to grab a gray tank top off the hanger since the other options are covered in both of your fluids.. you slip it on, the hem falling just past the top of your thighs. he knows he can’t show his face, so the mask may be the saving grace.

“follow me,” he beckons, gesturing you towards the door as he unlocks it.

you can feel his dried up blood stuck to yourself, the feeling waving something protected in you- like his blood is a seal over your womb and other vitals..

you take his hand as he opens the door with the other, making his way to a room down the hall. you walk past closed doors, as he comes to a table at the end- that stained glass is more prominent.. the pattern and colors are so striking now that you’re up close.

he shuffles through the drawer, sifting through junk, eyes landing on the jar as the doorbell continues to ring.

“fuck, come on..” he manages to get the jar open, pulling out the intricately detailed skeleton key.

sweet. another unwanted trip down memory lane.

“it sucks, but we have to get into william’s planning room. he has these like, prototype masks in there of the old animatronics. it’s where i got the foxy one, from before.. i can just wear one, and play up some story,” michael explains his plan, you listen closely as he thinks of this elaborate way to keep you both safe.

“are.. you sure that’s going to work?” you hope so much this doesn’t end badly. the last thing you want is to be taken away from this, from him..

“no.. but we can try.” he looks at you with uncertainty in his eyes, but a glimmer of hope.

you trust him. he’s had to dodge police for years, he must know what he’s doing..

you nod slowly, him guiding you to the door to william’s room.

he hesitates for a split second, remembering the urgency of the situation at hand.

just do it, for her.. he thinks.

he plunges the key into the door- turning it as it creaks open, the mahogany hue of the room coming through as you both enter. you can smell the scent of dust as you glance at all the blueprints, and full size parts of animatronics still scattered about. it was all left untouched.

he makes his way over to the masks, finding one of a lesser known animatronic.. mangle. it brings back unpleasant memories, how similar it is to foxy.

can’t think about that now.. everything is on the line.

he grabs it, putting it on.

“stay here.” he orders. “i’ll be right back.”

..

you watch him exit the room, going to reach out for his hand impulsively- praying he comes back and not someone else. alone again, but instead- in an interesting room written with william all over..

you decide to make use of this time to look around. there’s a sophisticated air about it, everything is pretty neat and tidy other than the actual animatronic parts, nuts and bolts and wires and all kinds of pieces that make up the whole of them.

your eyes scan along the many posters and books, some still opened on his desk. how intimate, to be able to see this- like his heart is laid out right there in front of you.

you glance at his handwriting, a suave and delicate cursive- almost too difficult to read.

your fingers flip through a stack of papers on the desk, noting the context of lawsuit cases in the wording on the pages.. your gaze lands on his signature, the text so distinct- it makes your heart flutter for a moment, seeing this when you shouldn’t be able to…

william afton.. father to michael afton.. slowly becoming your new family. at least, you hope he’s willing to reconcile with him..

but you don’t realize how deep this resentment goes. the lengths they may be willing to take to settle things- bloodspill in mind.

..

michael stays calm. he’s had to deal with this before, he knows what to do. just be nice to them and they won’t think anything of you. a lot of them, at least in this area, seem to be pretty aloof if you play them right.

he takes a deep breath before unlocking the door, and slowly opening it.. to reveal a police officer- tall and handsome. he looks pleasant to michael, feeling a bit too out of place wearing this facade..

“hello, i apologize for interrupting your night- but i have to ask you about a missing person’s case that has just surfaced last night.” he raises an eyebrow slightly at michael’s appearance.

“i would appreciate if you could remove your mask for me..” he finds it a bit odd, but nothing too threatening.

michael swallows, praying to god he isn’t observant enough to notice his grotesque features as real..

“uh.. sure. yeah, sorry..” he reaches up, to remove it.

the officer looks puzzled at him, not afraid- a good sign.

“you know, it’s.. not quite halloween yet, son.” the officer responds to his getup, thinking it’s all costume makeup.

fucking thank god.. he thinks.

michael laughs a little, trying not to make it sound forced, and nervous.

“yeah, um.. who is it you’re looking for?” he inquires, seeming interested to increase the likelihood the guy won’t think he’s a guilty party.

the officer writes him off as a freak, officially. he lifts up the picture of you, right before michael’s face..

michael takes it from his hand, to examine it closely- that familiar smile plastered across your cute face. those lips he’s kissed, that body he’s explored..

something in your expression looks forced, though. not the same as when you’ve gazed at him. he wonders when this photo was taken, who took it.

suddenly, he becomes more interested in learning about your past. it might be a nice distraction from having to relive his own, for hopefully the last time.. why did you hate living with some guy so much that you ended up in the arms of michael? he’ll have to ask you about it once he knows you’re both in the clear.

“does she look familiar at all to you? please be honest.. the person looking for her is very concerned about her.” the officer implores.

yeah, i’m sure he is.. michael thinks, a subtle sensation of anger rising in his chest- nearly causing him to scoff aloud.

he tilts his head slightly, shaking it- handing the photo back to the officer. he fakes his expression as best as he can, his unnatural hue hiding his features well.

he studies michael’s face, searching for deception. he sees none, thinking he just interrupted him during some weird stuff.

“i see.. thank you for your time. please promptly give us a call if you happen to see her at all.” he says, noticably disappointed- tucking the photo back into his pocketbook.

“of course, i’ll keep on the lookout.” michael says, keeping up the act until he leaves.. closing the door. he presses his back to it, exhaling deeply at the relief that it had nothing to do with him- but also how it miraculously worked.

that guy must be new or something.. what sheer dumb luck.

..

you hear the door close downstairs, but you wait until he returns to the room before declaring the coast as clear.

you hear him come up the stairs, reentering- seeing you spinning around the chair that william used to sit in.

it’s luxurious- the cushioning is definitely comfortable enough to sit in for hours at a time. and obviously, you love that he sat here..

a genius, a thinker, an inventor.. someone full of passion. full of creativity, who in the beginning seemed to have good intentions.. making things that brought joy to the hearts and minds of children, such an innocent concept in its fetal state..

doing all of that, spending all of that time ignoring his family.. in this very chair and room..

..

michael breaks your reverie by removing the mask, tossing it irreverently onto the desk in front of you.

“you were right, he was looking for you.. i scared him off though, i think..” michael runs a hand through his hair, glancing at you swinging your legs in his father’s chair. he’s so thankful you’re both still safe.. for sure now.

you feel the sense of anxiety begin to fade almost instantaneously at the sound of his words. you feel like you could almost cry, grateful for the return of your sweet friend.

you forget about william for the moment, hopping up out of the chair to give michael a hug.. he receives it gladly, joining his inviting arms around you.

“i’m so relieved.. i don’t want to be taken from you. you make me feel so loved. i couldn’t imagine any other way of life after meeting you..” you say, voice slightly jittery from the fear that came before this moment.

“me too.. and you’ve done the same for me.” he thinks back to the picture of you, how the smiles and gestures you’ve given him are so passionate and full of grace.

you hold your embrace, his hand resting along your back- he traces it down to pull one of your cheeks into his hand.

“mm.. michael.. you’re really into me aren’t you?” you murmur softly, leaning into his body more, your groin pressing up against his as his sudden overtly suggestive gesture turns you on..

“what was your first guess..?” he laughs, it sounds sexier this time.. laced with desire. you’re absolutely hypnotized by his ability to be a lover.

he holds his hand there, possessively- knowing you’re loving it. he sees the sweet, desperate innocence in your eyes, reflecting back into his own, hollowed out ones..

he knows he’s not your first, but he loves that you belong to him now.. he loves that he’s capturing your mind in a similar way you’re doing to his.

he used to see a good thing and worry for the next bad thing to come, to take it all away. today could have been that day, again..

..

“i think.. i’d like to do a little wake n bake, now that we have no reason to be paranoid,” you bring up, hoping he’s interested to do the same.

michael briefly muddles it over, shrugging at your statement.

“go for it. old man isn’t here to stop us from smoking in his house..”

us, you think. yess..

“i’ll grab my bags, let’s meet up in your room.” you say, slowly pulling away from him as you had felt him getting hard during your tactile meeting..

..

michael now back in his room, sits on the bench in front of his bed- putting his head into his hands. he processes everything that just happened, replaying every move he made to the police officer to be sure he wasn’t suspicious of him in any way. he hopes that was just a one time occurence.

he wonders again what it’s going to be like to get high here. he’s hoping he won’t feel as uneasy as before. the agitation really got to him, especially once william forced himself into the room..

you push the door open, closing it and locking it behind you out of recognizing his habit. you place the bags onto the floor next to the vanity, excited to get some of the things out that are important to you.

he watches you dig around, pulling the bong back out with all the necessary tools.

“would you mind telling me a little about what happened to you? i’m curious..” michael wonders, eyes trailing along your body that he’s becoming more familiar with by the minute.

you pause, the flashes of abuse come quickly back to your mind for some reason- probably because it hasn’t been the topic to come up much at all. the negativity of the reminder is strong, it’s strange how it somehow isn’t affecting michael’s remnant.

you can feel a twisting in your chest, as you slowly stand back up to place the objects for consumption on the vanity itself.

“um.. what would you like to know?” you ask, feeling slightly nervous- but knowing it’s only fair you share your story too.

“tell me anything, who.. was your boyfriend? why did you leave him for someone like me?” he questions, wanting to get a little insight into this enigmatic character.

you begin to prepare the hit for yourself, thinking about how to sequence the details.

“i don’t know.. why i was with him. i think i got attached and got stuck financially.. i lost my job and he made me feel bad for it, but that’s when he decided he could control parts of my life from then on.. he made me feel bad for not bringing in any more income- but then kept me from getting a job..”

“that’s pretty weird, and shitty.”

you sigh a little, packing the flower that’s rapidly filling the room with its sweet, relieving scent. you move over to sit on the bed behind him. he turns so his arm is draped over the back of the bench, to keep attentive.

“did he hurt you at all? or was it mostly emotional manipulation?” michael asks, watching your face carefully- he likes how expressive you are. it’s very unlike the countless fake people he’s met. you seem to wear your emotions a lot, at least with him you do..

you hold the bong in your lap, flicking the lighter in your hand- but not enough for it to hold the flame.

“yeah. a lot.” you mumble, impassively- looking at his face for reassurance.

“what.. exactly did he do?” his voice is gentle, it’s enough for you to feel like you can trust him with this awful information.

“well.. he would kind of treat me like a punching bag. i’m so small, and he was a little bit taller than you.. i could get thrown around easily, i couldn’t really defend myself. that’s why i tried so many times to run away.. i think in the beginning i was sloppy, but as time went on i was able to time his arrivals better. but still.. he just kept dragging me back. and he kept stealing my phone, he eventually put a tracker on it.. but i figured out a way to dismantle the software, so he thinks he knows where i am- but it’s not an accurate location..”

michael imagines the idea of someone using you in such a way. in a way other than how he’s treated you so far.. how could anyone want to do such horrible things to a precious thing like you?

“he’d hit you? that’s fucked up..” he feels a growing sense of wrath towards this cruel stranger.

“he also.. took advantage of me, a lot..” you look down slightly in automatic shame, remembering images and feelings that made you feel so dirty inside. he sees you buckling uncomfortably from the retelling and reliving.

“he always made sure it hurt, too.. i don’t understand why he liked that..” you manage to get these words out, then you try to remind yourself of the time you spent with michael this morning.

he imagines this disgusting violence, it causing a stronger pinch in his chest from the intensity of how much he wishes he could put that guy through the scooper twice. he decides to get up and join you onto the bed, propping a pillow up against the wall to lean on it- next to you.

“i don’t either. i’m sorry all of that happened to you.. seriously, how are people this fucked up?” he wonders, knowing the answer isn’t so simple- but he has an idea of what makes people become ticking time bombs.

from his own experience, of neglect and expectation- he understands that his own actions were a cause and effect. but still, as an adult there’s no excuse for behavior like that.

but he was never beaten by william, thankfully. is it worse, to be loved to the point of obsession, of violence.. or to be hated to the point of the same thing?

or being violated.. michael experienced ennard, a kind of rape of his body. but this wasn’t nearly one in the same with your experience. both terrible, but not comparable.

“i’m just glad i’m here with you.. to help me forget all that.” you smile towards him, bringing the bong up to your lips.

“me too. i don’t blame you for wanting to..” his words are so validating, you feel like you’ve uncovered a hidden gem of the world.

he thinks again about how he rocked your body many hours ago, how the sounds you made implied the complete opposite of your toxic time spent with this big bad wolf.

you draw the lighter to the bowl, inflaming it finally- excited to get on with this.

he watches as you suck in the hit, that cloudiness filling the glass like he filled you..

you hold it in, then exhaling the long puff of smoke like a dragon losing its momentous flame.

he gazes upon the stream hanging in the air, like he saw your worries slip out of you through it. he gets why you do this a lot now.

you get up rather quickly after that hit, to get another one ready for yourself. you want to be absolutely blitzed right now, to erase the bitter recollection of events.

michael looks at your body, how his tank top is too big for you- taking in the outlines of your features in his garment.. the persistent red flush of your face. all of it so delicate, and beautiful, and his..

he observes your routined care again, picking out the used plant into a small ashtray you brought with you. he sees you fill the bowl to the brim, knowing well this conversation made you want to plunge into a surreal neverland away from all of those nightmarish thoughts.

you take the hit right there while standing, lungs filling up with the cathartic smoke- the longest draw so far. this one causes you to cough a little more, but you’re so used to it, it barely affects you.

he inhales some of the residual as it fills the room. he feels a little sad for you, realizing how you found yourself a crutch to really lean into- to avoid feeling and remembering all of those things.. michael never had anything like that, he just dealt with it all and suffered. the voices probably convinced him he couldn’t be helped.

he’s going to find out though, how nice the pot feels being somewhere he doesn’t have to keep track of both of your current mortal states.

your eyes become red instantly, a glistening layer of sweat forming on your skin that michael sees. he can’t help but think your body is like a temple he always wants to be inside of.

..

“you want one, right?” you hold the bong out to him after another hit is packed, about halfway up the bowl.

he simply nods as he stands up to join you in front of the vanity. he takes it from you, the purple lighter in his other hand.

“don’t be afraid of anything, okay? i’m here with you..” you remind him.

“got it..” he’s definitely ready. he lights the bowl, slowly inhaling- just as you did. he coughs more than you do of course.. it burns his chest more than it would any normal person, that wasn’t carrying the invisible burden of hundreds of floating emotions and memories.

you’re surprised when he wants to take more than one. you think it may be a bad idea..

“i wanna get fucked up with you,” he mentions. “definitely don’t plan on doing it later when we go to fazbear’s. not with you know who.”

you mull it over, imagining how amazing it would be to do him again, right now..

you pack him another small bowl full, handing it to him. you can feel the tingliness and racing thoughts of him touching the inside of you again.. truly leaving his mark on you.

you watch him as he holds the glass, copying your movements of the process again like a child mimicking a parent. he tries not to think, ignoring the screaming in his ears. it will probably subside.

you gaze upon him getting double stoned, taking the expressway to the promised land- wanting to catch up to you. you’re feeling tremendously better after yourself doing the same- no need to remember everything we just talked about..

you see him become shrouded slowly in a contorting, trippy violet fog.. as he coughs rather harshly. you hand him your water bottle from your bag- he takes it and chugs the rest, drips falling around his chin.

the screams are loud, moving from one ear to the other. but he tries to focus on you again- everything in his vision becoming insanely wavy and out of this world..

the muted colors in the room are brighter, vibrating, sparkling, dancing..

his chest is frazzled, so much that you happen to notice more blood coming through the bottom of his shirt onto the floor..

“come on.. you need to lay down.” you take his hand and guide him back to the bed. he lays against the pillow again, you notice now that blood is beginning to come out of his mouth..

“oh my god.. hold on, oh fuck..” it’s the absolute worst thing on planet earth to be panicked when you’re high. especially this high. you try your best to stay calm, you’re pretty good in emergency situations with those you care about- you tend to spring into action. but your friend has a mysterious thing about him that you have not an inkling to how it works..

“i’m fine.. relax,” he murmurs, half turning into a laugh. you gingerly pull his shirt off, his arms naturally lifting up to let you. to see the damage..

it’s not as bad as you thought. but still bad. it’s so frustrating that he tries to experience these immensely joyful things, but this strange ailment keeps him from enjoying it fully. you’re determined to change that for him.

he just watches you.. the voices have died down as he focuses on you consuming his line of view. as long as he focuses on you, he’s safe, he thinks. happy thoughts..

he’s so high that he feels a sense of dereality, but he doesn’t feel bad about it. the fire raging on in his chest is the worst part of it all.

“just stay still, okay?” you use the shirt to very carefully wipe up the sporadic outpour of blood around his chest cavity.

“yes, ma’am..” he nods slowly, tasting the blood on his mouth. he’s starting to feel surprisingly good, primarily due to the way you’re taking care of him right now.

his mind is calm, strangely.. not like it was in the security office. the whir of the fan and the ancient computer, the vents making all kinds of noises, added to the discomfort of the whole thing.

but here, in the silence, with you- appearing to him like an angel guiding him along.. the intoxication of the high feels like a dubious poison affecting all of his senses. his limbs radiate a pleasurable tingly feeling, and his mind feels a similar effect- like an internal massage.

“you know you’re really fucking hot, right?” michael murmurs, a smirk creeping across his face.

his comment causes you to blush more. you’re thankful he’s feeling better than he looks.

he looks cute with the odd effect that being high does to his eyes.. but he definitely seems a bit like he did too much. you can appreciate his horniness though, that’s for sure.. and you have a feeling this time will be more intense.

“you want me all to yourself, again?” you crawl over top of him onto the bed, straddling him. leaning in closer to his ear, you add, “you’re welcome to..”

he gulps, the sensation of your bare thighs pressed over his legs- the heat of it is so strong and feels like an intermittent pulsating wherever there is contact with your flesh. it feels dizzying, but he leans into it instead of becoming afraid.

“more than you know..” he returns the sentiment, gazing up at you laying on top of him. your body is heavy, and hot.. full of blood, a working system of veins and arteries and glossy, fragile organs inhabiting your cuddly, sensitive vessel..

you smile, heart racing.. licking your lips, you lean across him- careful not to press onto his ribs too much. he doesn’t care though, as you french kiss him into oblivion..

there is something so cosmic about the way you taste his sanguine blood on your tongue, and that he tastes it on himself too.

both of your tongues slide against each other desperately- moans moving past his and your lips as he eases into the psychedelic trip of you.

he feels your groin pressing carnally against his own throbbing gristle, the heat and wetness soaking through them into his skin underneath.

“you taste.. so good..” you manage as you hold your kiss, drool mixed with blood dripping from your chin.

“mm.. tell me about it..” he licks his lips, savoring your spit mixing with his blood on him.. you’re both in agreement of this being your pact.

a pact that may or may not last..

                                               ..

🐇….            …                 ..

            …             ..    

you rub into his erection more, his fingers brushing into your hair.. the weight of you making what blood is left in him all gather in his cock, you can actually feel heat there-

you like the idea of this position. it’ll be more comfortable for him, and you can control how fast you go..

as you go to remove your shirt, he does it for you- then pushes his boxers down and off his legs. putting a steady hand on your back, he pulls you up to him- murmuring, “don’t worry, i’m not going to break..”

your soft breasts rest against his darkened sternum and ribs- faces close, the return of a familiar and friendly alternate ego.

“aww.. hi, closeface!” you giggle, giving him an eskimo kiss.

he feels a fluttering in his hollow chest as you nuzzle his nose, processing the pet name you’ve given him. your innocence is so captivating, he wants to protect it- and be part of it forever..

you both smile, deeply smitten with each other.. michael’s wet and metallic blood paints both yours and his lips, as you appear like hungry wolves in the illuminating, late summer dusklight..

..

you’ve had plenty of high sex before, but nothing more than pot. your mind is so delicate, flashy and erratic.. that somehow you’re aware that it is for sure, all you can handle. but the best part though, is you can get as fucked up off of it as you want.. and there really aren’t any repercussions- other than your lungs taking a blow. you’re thankful your ex never drugged you with psychedelics, but.. he did drug you at times. often when you weren’t in the mood.

you’re about to blow michael’s mind again.. he seems to really like this, so much that he’s becoming a little bit reliant on your loyalty to him- all of sudden, out of nowhere. like randomly the curse of his life is lifted.. or maybe his father finally just killed him. you’re just an illusion disk- and this is the afterlife he’s manifested.

forget it, he knows you’re real now. after waking up with more than four hours under his belt, and after exploring the inside of your body- really processing that feeling, and the fact he’s about to do it again.. what a sweet treat you are.

“come on, get on me..” he begs, his urgency is so alluring, knowing he’s succumbing to the mind control of his incapacitation.. and you.

“yes, sir..” you kiss along his neck and collarbone, leaving a faded trail of iron desire- he leans back slightly to allow you more access.

slowly, you plant yourself down onto him. as you keep your arms on either side- holding your gaze.. you both like the idea of being able to see each other’s face when you come.

he bites his lip, an unrestrained moan slipping through as he feels the slick and tight, blazing heat of your gentle stove swallowing him whole..

as you press up and down onto him achingly, the abrupt squelching of you pooling around him forces his eyes downward.. at the glistening of your endless fluids falling down the sides of his thighs- like the caramel from a vanilla sundae.

our love is anything but vanilla.. you think. god- he.. is the best thing i’ve ever felt..

his mind is dazzling inside, feeling every spark from the friction of you squeezing around him once again- this glorious hug he’s coming to know and love.. a tv fuzz coats his vision as your cum appears like a glittery glue in the buzz of his insane high.

he could for sure, get used to this. being wanted, being seen, heard and felt.. the distraction of you has taken away every burden he’s ever carried.. he’s found his drug, something to erase the past entirely and start anew.

the sex with you this time feels slower, and you both seem more animalistic than previously.. he loves how time is suspended, the sounds of you are emphasized- everything is prolonged, stronger, better..

instead of the lost souls of children’s voices pleading into his ears, now it’s you..

you return your lips to his again as you get a steady rhythm going, him filling the spaces of you ever so right- his now eager cock fitting like a glove.. you love how both of you are connected at either end, locked in a visceral infinity loop.

he holds his arms around you, a hand caressing along your back, feeling the smooth curves of your hips and backside.. grabbing you impulsively as you slide urgently against him with intention.

“god, you’re all over me..” he huffs between your sloppy, bloody kisses and manual thrusts.

he can feel himself close to coming, but he tries to hold it for you.. he can’t help it when you decide to go all the way down, holding him fully inside so you can feel him occupying every space within, as close to the valves of your heart as he can be.

you move your lips to his neck, soft moans echoing into his ear as you lick the purple hued surface- kissing it and giving him a love bite..

he flinches ever so slightly under your touch.. the sinking of your teeth and tongue against what arteries he has left makes him quiver, as he attempts to hold still- leaning into you as he thinks this type of pain feels good..

you suck in his skin as moans get caught up in your throat.. leaving a newly reddened, blooming bruise. its colors are that of a summer sunset, a hopeful flower’s petals splayed across his mostly barren vessel.

the slurping sound makes him sigh in ecstasy, like you’re draining all the bad energy out. your body pins him to the bed, giving him a novel sinking sensation. a succubus he’s content in the presence of.

you both are unable to resist this celestial feeling of fitting into each other this well, this way- his pulsating cock like a subwoofer inside your heavily gripping and soft, velvet interior..

“let me give you one too.. anyone who sees you needs to know you’re mine.."

anyone.. you know who he means.

your enveloping high combined with his steady and sure voice is enough to make you come- and in the midst of it, he reaches up to sink his lips and teeth into your neck as you contract- muscles pumping, attempting to keep him pulled into the depths of you..

the overwhelming sensation of him sucking on you.. making sure he leaves another, more defined, but loving mark.. and your climax, you’re sure that this must be what heaven feels like..

his own come forces him to break free from your neck- he didn’t realize with how hard he sucked it drew a little of your blood..

your bizarre love for the taste of it is intriguing him to desire the same from you.. he observes the metal flavor of your body, realizing that you both share many similarities despite the difference in your physical states.

there’s something deeply innocent and primitive about the love you both share, it’s so raw and true- like you both wish to exist in a limitless void together, boundless jelly souls combining into one. this is the closest you can get to that, and it feels like you’re both connected on an umbilical level, eternally..

the breathing of both of you is incredibly labored. you’re crippled by the stunned haze and swirl of pot, and a firestorm- two fiery volanoes erupting at once.

both you and michael’s eyelids struggle to open. but once they do, his eyes always meet yours- your pupils like caverns he can fall right into.. he wouldn’t mind if that happened, either.

you rest your forehead against his as you let your body weight fall on him more involuntarily. you begin to pull yourself off so as not to put too much pressure on the places that hurt- but he halts your action, wanting to keep you there a little longer..

“not yet..” he huffs, all the liquid from him sits inside you- satisfyingly.. his refusal to separate acting like a plug.

after making himself part of you.. twice now, he’s making a forever best friend and lover out of you- you having done the work of thawing him to the point of being able to receive this affection..

still, the devil sits on the backburner of his mind- an intrusive thought that keeps knocking on the door. the remnant makes sure of that, like a material harvested from hell itself.

what kind of manipulation can his father do to alter your mind, to make michael a distant memory to you.. this plagues him. he wishes he could quit and work somewhere else, but he knows that’s an impossibility.

for now, everything is right. everything fits, the tattered pieces of his life are reforming- as well as yours. you have reached biblical levels of intimacy with each other- the energy of itself alone should be enough to destroy all the remnant left in the universe.

he tries to grasp onto faith, that both of your fragmented minds won’t get the best of you..

..

unfortunately, william’s had enough time and newfound motivation to plan- maybe he doesn’t have to kill michael, yet.. maybe the best revenge would be to get you rightfully on his side.

you notice michael’s eyes shifting from a nervous thought, so you decide to perform your magic- to settle him down.

“see? i’m real..”

“you are.. and mine.”

.. 💜

Chapter Text

it’s 11:45pm. you and michael have been rocking and rolling all night and day, but now it’s time for some more serious matters- getting that paycheck.

you were quite messy after your fun together.. the blood and saliva pact you made to each other brings you both a solace after living such difficult lives so far.

he cooked you both dinner- a man that cooks, and cooks right- that uses seasonings and doesn’t have a timid palette.. and asks you what you like, so he can adjust it to your needs. you loved watching him, a dash of this and that- enjoying some romantic tactile moments as you washed his dishes..

your time before arriving back to fate’s door, was well spent- but a storm is brewing behind that door. one you and michael are about to have to brave.. chaotic winds testing the boundaries of your love for one another..

..

he’s a little nervous on the drive to fazbear’s, knowing you’re bringing your bong with you. he stands firm on his decision to not get high, to absolutely be thinking on his feet in case something really bad happens.

“you don’t plan on getting william high, do you?” he asks- checking your reaction as you are already looking at him, lovingly.

the mention of william’s name causes you to adjust in your seat, looking down slightly into your lap- shamefully..

your hesitation causes him to worry. he tries to remain calm, as he has to keep you both safe.. safe from that fucking monster.

“you can’t be serious.. he could do anything to us. guns do nothing, knives do nothing. we’d have to torch the fucker if something happens..”

“doesn’t that make it easier then? i’m sure there’s a torch in the building somewhere, right?” you offer a solution to his fears.

“more like a flamethrower would do the trick.. but still. why do you want to?”

you blush a little, remembering william’s record collection.. he definitely seems like someone who would be willing to try getting high, or has tried it at some point..

“what if it makes him nicer to you?” you say gently, hoping it changes his perspective a little.

“you wish. it might be the thing that sets him off, you just don’t know.. i’m telling you. he’s blood thirsty, and mostly for me..” he scoffs, adjusting the brim of his security hat- using the stimulation of touch to soothe himself.

you can hear the paranoia in michael’s voice as he drives closer.. you want so badly to make him feel calm about this, but you’re not sure how. he tried to convince you not to bring the bong before you left- but he figured as long as he stays sober, he won’t have to worry about anything. he didn’t want to assert control over you as he’s aware of your past, and your willingness to be with him.

“i’m sure everything will be fine, michael..”

he doesn’t particularly like your recklessness, but he has a sliver of hope- that maybe you’re right. since it altered him in a positive way.. maybe it does have the potential to make william look at him in a way he’s never seen before.

“fine.. let’s hope.”

..

he pulls into the lot, empty of course.. the barely functioning neon lights flicker on the dated fazbear’s fright sign. he glances up at it spazzing out, realizing he hasn’t really looked up in years.

just get paid and leave.. that’s all we’re here for.

you both slowly enter the building, him in front of you with a flashlight. of course the lights don’t work, they haven’t worked in years. his depression and contempt caused him to not care about fixing anything about the building.

plus, the maintenance of the place got quickly out of hand, and he wasn’t going to use his pockets to pay for the property damage he didn’t even do..

as you approach the security office, close behind michael- careful again not to step on any glass.. you think about a way to clean up the place at least. so he doesn’t have to climb over this booby trapped floor five nights a week.

his suspicions were true. there william sat- in the chair michael usually sits in front of the monitor. he turns to look at you, eyes adjusting like camera lenses, the brightest lights in the dungeon.

“hello, friend..” william speaks in that heavily accented voice. he deliberately singles you out, obviously his son doesn’t count.

you’re surprised at how quickly he addresses you, feeling a strange sense of honor. you try not to show it, and instead cannot help the mauve hue prominently displayed across your face.

michael inspects you both carefully, reading every expression of yours and keeping a steady eye on him..

..he thought this shift was going to be easy.

“with all this time to myself, i’ve wondered.. what do you have to complain about michael? you have such an easy job..” william teases, his hulking metal frame impulsively dominating the room.

michael ignores him, not wanting to take the bait. he rolls his eyes instead, thinking about how long this night is going to be with you and his father in the same room.

you set your bag down onto the desk next to william, containing the piece and all of its wonders- he watches as you get close to him.. without much thought to your own safety.

“we’re not here to play games. just to get paid so we can go home,” michael says, leaning against a locker across the room from william and you- his arms fold over his chest in a protective and wary stance.

we, he thinks.

“is that so?” william says as he watches you fill the bong with water, slowly recognizing what it is you’re fussing with.

“what is it you’ve got there, friend?” he narrows his attention onto you. “something to ease the pain of living?” he chortles a little- this overnight time has made him slightly more grateful he is in this position.. the suit is not only threatening, but more powerful than if it were just his humanly form.

“something like that..” you say, one of those real, precious smiles directing towards william now.. michael shifts slightly as if the sound of his ruffling security uniform will remind you both that he’s still there.

he begins to wonder your motive- but the idea that this could make william loosen up enough to actually have a conversation instead of criticizing or degrading him, keeps him interested in what this night has to offer.

“it’s been quite a while since i’ve laid my eyes on one of those.. you didn’t happen to steal it from me, did you?” william’s fixed eyes glance down at the glass before looking back up at your face.

you and michael both pause, as if this reveal is the biggest surprise thus far.

“what?” no.. what do you mean?” michael is so confused at this.

william’s rigid and wild smile remains plastered across his face, as he thinks about the fact that he can connect with you on a level that emphasizes the youth in both of you..

“i didn’t take it from you, don’t worry.. it came from the house i ran away from,” you reassure him, as if he needs any of that.

he does, deep down underneath his violent and psychotic interior, there is a tricky, icy bloom waiting to unfold.

“so you’re telling me you had a bong collection this whole time?” michael says in disbelief. if only he had known, he could’ve taken every one of them and smashed them to oblivion.. before your arrival of course.

“ran away..” william plans to use your slow and vulnerable reveals of information as ammo for his arsenal.

you begin packing the bowl as both of the men in the room watch your movements, like they’re attentively viewing the lab demonstration of a science professor.

or.. like one is keeping track of the predator in the room, being so close to you he could take a chunk of you for himself right there..

“yeah.. i’d rather not talk about that. i wanna have fun with you guys!” you stand so you’re partially leaning against the desk, next to william and across from michael.

“fun.. sure,” michael mumbles, remembering the real fun he’s had with you.. your naivety is endearing but so challenging, that’s why he’s keeping such a watchful eye on you.

as you stand only inches away from william, he glances at your small, delicate and fully alive frame. now he’s able to get a better look, a longer one.

he hones in on the distinct mark on your neck, large and irregular- blood spots peaking at the surface.

a hickey.. he glances back at michael, eyes narrowed and suspicious.

“the fuck you looking at me, for?” he says brashly, unfixing his arms from his empty chest- his father noticing the same is adorned on his neck. suddenly william feels like the third wheel, who has been missing all of this exciting action with you.

“you two have been enjoying yourselves quite a bit, without me..” william says, looking back at you- checking the soft green bed now laying in the bowl you’re about to take.

the tension in the room stays stable for now, but you’ve become familiar with michael’s unease. you don’t want him to think you have just a gravitational pull towards his father, you want both- a fatherly and a brotherly figure to love you eternally.. and this life is somehow dropping it right into your lap.

“yeah.. and?” michael remains standing, seriously thankful he’s not high in this situation.

william decides to get up at the cockiness of his tone, to remind him of his physical grandeur. he stands tall next to you, but you feel no reason to stray away.

he likes that. you’re a stranger yet you stand close. but the one that knows him well, knows him the most- is keeping his distance.

but he thinks about how he is unable to give you what michael has already.. this gift that is proudly displayed on your skin, a dominance that has already been established- not by him.

the lack of control in this is making him feel.. inadequate.

“why don’t you join us, michael?” he asks, an obvious mockery in his tone.

“yeah.. not happening.” he watches you finally bring the neck up to your mouth to inhale. the flick of the lighter catches william’s attention- he remembers the times he did this, and somehow observing you is causing a craving to slip back into the forefront of his mind.

something to make it so he doesn’t feel this dreaded sharpness and persistent ache all over.. he’s not burdened by the mental effects of remnant like michael is.. but the physical is enough to make him wish he had his son’s fate instead.

surely the scooper couldn’t have been as bad as being forcefully united with spring bonnie.. right?

you decide to take two hits, but not back to back. instead, you pack a hit for william in between your first and second. michael knew this was coming. he’s not upset with you, his agitation is due to this whole scenerio being completely unpredictable.

he’s terrified of losing you, and if it was to william he would never be able to forgive himself.

william looks at you gesturing for him to take the glass..

“darling, i wish i could follow your request. but alas, i have no hands..” he holds up his lumbering greenish digits that are falling apart around the edges.

darling, you think.. wow.

michael shifts uncomfortably again, at his word of endearment towards you. he decides to get a little closer, stealing the spare computer chair to prop it a few feet in front of you two. to watch this insane remake of cheech and chong that’s about to unfold.

he wishes so much that he could assert himself, but he knows it would only bring rise to the tension and danger if he goes too far..

he’s a little sad that all of your attention is on his father now.. was all of this just so you could be close with him instead?

no.. that’s not true. he knows it isn’t. with how you have made him feel, it’s obvious that isn’t the case. he just wants to get to the bottom of your heart.. of why you want to interact with him.. is it truly for michael or for yourself?

“i can hold it for you..” you gaze up at his voracious smile, appearing more like a happy face in the introduction of your high. “just tell me how to do this.”

william feels a sense of pride, at once again how obedient you are. he likes how much you are willing to make him feel something other than suffering.

he’s not nervous about you seeing his body, not like michael was. he’s beginning to embrace the power he has over his son, physically. little does he know though, soon that feeling will be replaced with a desperate desire to be rid of the suit completely- or to reverse time.

william bends down slightly to your height as best he can.. his face is so close to yours now that the bulbs from his eyes illuminate your whole face.

you feel slightly overwhelmed at how close he is, the stench of him is a lot stronger and putrid- not a distant memory like michael’s. but nonetheless- you peak into the spaces of his man-made skull, catching more glimpses of the body whose fate was met inside.

“bring it closer..” he beckons, the disturbing proximity you have to him is making michael feel like he’s about to witness the events of the past all over again.

“how about, we don’t do that..” he says, now making his move to keep you out of william’s mouth.

jesus, what are you thinking?

william glares his way- his son standing firmly in front of you both, unafraid in the moment. now that he has a reason to stand up for someone other than himself.

“michael, don’t act like you’re so innocent. maybe your father needs something to take the edge off after all these years of dealing with you..”

he doesn’t flinch, just looks towards you with a pleading in his eyes. the words hit him like raindrops- they always sink in.. he’s attempting to make michael’s remnant act up. it’s not working, though. it would be if you weren’t here.

then he remembers the torch.

“i’ll be right back. please don’t hurt her, william..” he can’t help but say it. it’s on his mind so much, he finally gives a damn about his own life in some way because of you.

william doesn’t respond- just seemingly waits for him to leave so he can have you to himself, finally..

michael gives you a knowing glance before exiting the room, making haste to find that torch.

..

with you both alone together now, you think it’s a good idea to get familiar.. redirecting your focus back to william, you hold the lighter and bong in both hands.

“i’ll serve you, but you have to at least open your mouth somehow..” your voice he also recognizes as being very familiar, and circus baby-like.

serve him, he thinks. very, very nice.

he nods slowly, the terror of him not bothering you in the slightest now. in fact, quite the opposite. his form is alluring, in the fact that he is michael but the reverse.. you want to make him feel less rage, less vapidity, bring him a new calm that will be like a soothing bath over an infuriated fire..

“i want to help you, william.. so you don’t feel so angry with your son..” your words act like a strange mirror he’s never thought to look into before.

“has he told you?” he asks, you knowing exactly what he’s talking about.

you nod slowly, a little nervous for his reaction. but you have a feeling he really likes you..

he’s a little pissed off at michael for telling his story, not the way he wants it to be told.

“i see.. what do you think of me, then?” he inquires, his voice is low and confident. he doesn’t have a lick of fear, that much you know. at least.. he doesn’t show it like michael does.

“well.. you have wonderful taste in music.. i couldn’t believe it when i saw the seekers in your record collection..” you compliment him in this roundabout way. he’s not used to such flattery from anyone other than his business partner, henry.

he feels a crack form in that bloom at the base of his heart. it may not physically still exist.. being withered to bits by time in the metal casket. but he feels it.

“you like the oldies, do you?” he sounds delighted.

you nod quickly, excitedly.

he’s very pleased by your tastes as well. such a young woman so interested in aged things.. himself being one of them.

“you know.. i used to be in a band, once upon a time..” he continues, a boyish essence returning to him as he is hoping to impress you.

you listen to him closely as he appreciates the look on your face- like someone reciting a magical fairytale to an imaginative child.

“i played the banjo, and my partner did vocals.. it was fantastic.” he recalls the time of him and henry in fredbear’s diner, also dwelling on the memory of when he was the star of his business.. before he lost everything important to him.

little do you know, your presence in william’s life is a repeat.. something you’ve forgotten for reasons unknown.

“the banjo? that sounds lovely.. i’m sure your suit saw better days,” your words are silky and slide easily through the decayed ears and rusted springlocks.

“yes.. spring bonnie looked perfect when he first came to be. in his prime.. since then he’s been quite tampered with,” he muses- his tone humored, as he tries to make himself seem like the victim.. he speaks the words while imagining himself as he used to be.

“do you miss your body?” you ask, gently- watching the mechanical bits of him function on their own, recalling the remains of a human suspended in the jaws of a machine.

“..no. not usually,” he responds- a white lie, refusing to let too much come through.. he doesn’t like this interrogation that involves getting to the bottom of his emotions, so he reminds you of the task at hand.

“i’d like to taste this mary jane now, if you’re willing..” he moves his creaking hands up to his springtrapped mouth, forcing the jaw open so you can allow the smoke to enter his.. his what?

“yes, william..” his eyes flicker, you notice it- it’s different from the flicker before. it makes your mind feel fuzzy for a moment, like a momentary blackout.

little do you and michael know, he has been devising a new technology- that has the ability to hypnotize through the lenses of animatronics. it’s an easy way to lure someone in, subtly.

he adores this look on your face. freshly stoned and getting a sprinkle of his own invention injected right into you..

he’s working on a way to make you perceive him as his old self. that process is a bit more complicated and will require a little more time to perfect. basically a bit of tweaking with illusion disks. he wants to get the look just right, though..

knowing that you have to view him in this way is a little embarrassing to him, especially since you understand the context of it being his demise.

you peer into his mouth- a darkened cavern of holes, wires, desecrated bone and post mortem skin- all kinds of sharp and jagged edges. rusted, corroded metal ripping at the seams.. interlaced with his fragile body.

the sight of it this close is so alarming, knowing the pain he must have felt..

“go ahead, i won’t bite..”

you don’t realize how intimate this will be for the both of you, but for him especially..

you smile at him, feeling a sense of security- something your own father couldn’t provide. so far, william has treated you with reverence.. something intensely flattering to you as you’re aware of his status and position now in the fazbear franchise.

you lean in so the glass is tipped forward in between the foam teeth of his upper and lower jaw. you fit it so it’s nestled between the lips of his real mouth.. your hand and wrist rest on the helmet, in a fatally ambiguous position.

you light the bowl, and he somehow takes it in- you let him get it all, milky white heavenly clouds puffing out of the mecha hare from down under.

but who are you kidding now? what lies under this macabre facade is a man.. probably in his fifties by the sounds of it. you realize he might want to be regarded and remembered as such.

william’s time with you will make him wish he had his human body again.. for now he is content with it due to the darwin competition.

he takes a moment to let everything adjust. his mind hasn’t experienced something so gracious in years.

you set the piece back down to pack another one for yourself.

william doesn’t even cough, but he feels the familiar wash of chemicals reaching the corners of his mind that he hasn’t touched in a while..

”how do you feel, william?” he likes the sound of his name coming from between your lips.

he readjusts his posture so he’s standing upright again- looming over you as you hold your second hit in hand.

“this.. feels nice.”

you smile up at him, happy that he seems to be experiencing a sedating effect from it. that is, without michael here.

after exhaling the smoke, you blow it in william’s face.. he narrows his eyes at you from the unexpected cheeky gesture. you’re unsure if he means it in a menacing or endearing way. as time goes on, you’ll probably be able to tell..

he decides he wants to examine your features more since you’re so close to him. his clockwork eyes take in the soft skin, your plushy and authentic body all from the looks of it.. curves that are accentuated in michael’s sweatpants and tank top you’re wearing.

he’s growing tired of looking, starting to feel a need to touch what isn’t his.. but he has to let you, the timid animal come to him..

he goes back to the chair in front of the dimly lit monitor and takes a seat- facing you.

it feels a bit odd, but lovely at the same time.. being high with someone so much older than you.. with so much more life knowledge and skills than you.

“you know.. i wasn’t always the best father to my children, or husband to my wife..” he begins. you can’t believe how he admits fault to you, not even to his own son. you don’t realize though, how he is doing this to manipulate you.

“yes, michael has told me all the horrible things you’ve done.. those machines you made to kill kids, to hurt him..”

william tilts his head slightly, confused.

“i did not make the scooper to kill michael. that is a misconception,” he says. “it was intended to replace endoskeletons, and inject remnant.. into those who came back inside the bellies or chests of my funtime friends..”

you nod slowly, you have to get down to the bottom of his undying rage for michael.

“why did you love evan more than the rest of your family?” you ask a serious question. you don’t realize how you’re pressing on a long festered bruise..

william pauses, looking towards you with unmoving eyes. the hardened shards are falling down around that bloom in his heart.. he hasn’t thought about this in a long time, about him.

almost like he buried it with all the bloodshed, revenge, unresolved conflict..

“that’s.. something you wouldn’t understand.” his voice is deep, indicative of regret.

“give me a chance.. won’t you?” you murmur, standing before him as you take a finger and brush it along his dyed, matted fur chest.

your touch gives him a feeling he hasn’t felt since before being held captive inside. and with being high again, he’s starting to feel reminded of what it was like to be young.

and this hollowness in your chest, the void of absence of family.. the potential for that to be filled by not only michael, but him as well..

“he was pure. i could tell.. his heart was pure, everything about him i felt drawn to, and others were as well. i could see it. almost like it was a light i could physically see outside of him. he was intelligent emotionally, he had potential..”

you move to put yourself onto william’s lap, the sudden motion causing him to have to use an arm to support you on his bulky body.

“pure, i understand..” you say quietly, your voice almost acting like a hypnotic to him.

he wants to regain a little dominance, but he’s beginning to realize that he has to excercise a bit of gentleness, as that is how michael has won you over.. it doesn’t help being in a seven foot tall rotted springlock suit.

you don’t mind though.. the intimidation of him is incredibly exciting to you.

“now you tell me.. what was your father like?” he asks, eyes fixated on you as you begin to lean against the arm he’s holding you with on his lap.

his eyes flicker again, causing you to be entranced.. he could feel the agony begin to stir in you the moment he mentioned your deadbeat, piece of shit parent. he wants to make sure you’ll answer him, no matter how loyal you seem to be..

you feel overwhelmed suddenly by the intoxication of the pot mixed with the strange mental effects the hypnosis has on you. you feel your body becoming like jelly, melding with william’s body- the environment, the memories..

you feel dizzy, and fall forward slightly, catching yourself- arms attempting to wrap around him. he ensures you don’t fall, and puts a sturdy arm around your hip to pull you up higher onto his lap, so you can lean against his chest.

the harshness of his frame doesn’t bother you due to the swirling poison in your mind, and your predisposition for unnaturally romantic things..

“what’s wrong, darling.. too many bad memories?”

you feel like you can barely speak, but then something in your brain forces you to tell him about your experience growing up. how cruel your parents were to you. you even tell him about the boyfriend you ran away from, all the things he did to you. you reveal more to him than even to michael..

he’s bubbling inside at how much you spill to him, knowing the effects of his new invention are working well and in his favor..

“i think.. you would even make a better dad than mine,” you laugh. that laugh catches his attention. the sound of it.. is triggering a sense of curiosity, of long forgotten innocence.

“is that so..” he says, thinking about the flesh of you.. pressed all up against him now. this warmth piercing through the cold, the same cold in his soul- slowly thawing just as you did michael’s. his usual thirst to kill is being replaced by a more buried desire..

he gazes upon the mark on your neck again.. ready to give a shot at turning you against your other friend.

“yeah.. you’ve touched me more than he ever did. he never hugged me.. or gave me kisses goodnight. he was never there,” you continue, feeling for the first time tears welling up inside as they begin to stream down your face.

this is bad. the hypnosis is strong, causing serious psychological effects on your brain and other organs.. your pulse feels like a drum close to your ear as he tries to alter you with haunting words.

“i can provide that.. all of that, and more..” he hums, the cruelty and irony of how he barely did that for his own kids.

except evan.. he cared for him sometimes a little too much, to the point of obsession. william senses something about you, in the way you act. the way your expressions match your words so harmoniously..

he feels the desperate grip of your limbs around him, tremoring from a new high- your mind intensely incapacitated as you rely on him.. the tears falling down your face so fast that it causes you to try to wipe them away..

..you remind him of evan, his favorite child. he thought he had stopped loving after evan died. but.. something about you is striking a memory in him. your tenderness and sensitivity he wanted to protect.. but his maddening geniosity always got the best of him. his passion to create, his drive for design.

but, this is allowing him a second chance in a way. to have back what he lost. what he so dearly wanted to hold onto.. he can’t believe it. the thc occupying his brain matter is opening his eyes more to the possibility of letting love in..

your head feels so heavy you have to keep it against him, like the spins from being drunk.

“you can.. for me? only if you love michael too..” you say, somehow through the thick fog of mental crippling.

love michael.. two words that should never be mentioned in close proximity to each other in william’s presence.

“oh, i’ll love him all right.. you know, i think i just want you to forget everything about him.. you know what he’s done right? and as a child. from the start he was a bad egg.. i have my excuses.” his logic is so flawed, but you are in no position to analyze his venomous words.

you know michael means everything to you, both connected now by a steady and infinite cord of understanding and seemingly led by fate to each other.. but no matter, this drug william has infected you with is overpowering the purity of your heart. it takes the agony within you and squeezes it for all you’re worth.

“no.. i could never forget him. i love him, so much. he’s made me feel safer and happier than anyone in my life..” you say, voice trailing into a whisper as you remain in your embrace with william. he tightens his grip around you slightly at your words, but not enough to hurt.

“he’s.. made me feel so good. more than once,” you add, “being inside me..” your words are just pouring out without any filter or rationality. your body pressure leans into william more, at the thought of michael’s tender contact..

he feels a lightning shock of envy, the hickey- your blood sucked into michael’s mouth.. the thought of it now is disgusting him more, enraging him. how you’re clinging to him, but imagining his son instead..

your eyes are closed in an attempt to stop the room from spinning, but he decides to lift your chin up towards his face full of deceit- and yearning for control.

“look at me, darling.. open your eyes,” he instructs gently- using his voice to bewitch you even more. he knows you like it.

you slowly open them, feeling jaded from the unnatural wave of this manipulation of your mind.. staring at his glowing, shifting bulbs as they flicker furiously. he loves the putty in his arms you’ve become, even if not entirely by your will..

“forget him.. for me.”

like a guardian angel watching over you- michael walks back in the office. the sight before him is enough to induce a heart event if he had one.

your body draped over his father’s lap, shaking and limp- his hand tucked under your chin, pushed up to his face into an ominously locked gaze.

“what the fuck- i leave for two seconds and come back to this? i swear, i’ll fucking kill you.” he approaches you both with the torch- completely belligerent as he can’t understand what is happening.

william is definitely startled by this, but with you resting like a child in his lap- he can do nothing with the weapon he’s acquired.

“not with her lying here, will you michael? look at her.. isn’t she so precious? and in my arms this time..”

the mind games he’s playing off the bat is enough to make him wish he never came back here tonight.

“what did you do to her?” he stares at you, searching for injuries. the fact there’s tears running down your face and neck, over the beautiful branding he gave you earlier.. even you haven’t cried that much in the midst of him. what the hell happened here?

the panicked feeling michael has right now, that he can’t do anything- that he missed all this. he can’t make any fast moves with this crocodile lying steadily below the surface.. carrying you inside his propped jaws.

“what can i say, she became entranced by me! i was re-educating her about the big bad wolf you are, stealing away my only pride and joy..”

he’s still deplorable. great..

“tell me what the fuck you did,” he demands, the torch hanging at his side as he grips it- ready to strike at the right moment.

william loves him buckling under the fear of losing you. it feeds the agony, that which you were attempting to change around for the better.. but your efforts fell a bit short this time.

“you’ll see.” his grin is maddening and monstrous in the dark.

you begin to laugh for some reason, the hypnosis leading to a bipolar effect on your mood. as you are his guinea pig, you have no idea how long it will last- how much he will have altered you, or made you misremember..

michael can’t wait anymore. he lifts the torch up, closer to william’s face.

“i’m not fucking around.”

“what are you going to do, light me on fire? with your lover in my arms?”

the rage michael feels is incomparable to anything. william is the only one truly enjoying this.

“put her down..” he begins to plead, thinking leaving you alone with him was the worst idea on the planet.

“or else, what?” your cradled, innocent body lays out of reach by the beast. he’s decided he’s going to clock out early tonight, with you in hand- somehow.

“please, just.. give her back,” he says, the desperation of michael feeding him more- he’s found his weak spot, you.

moments pass, his breathing is audible along with the sound of william’s clicking eyes as he thinks of a way to make this nightmare end.

“if you can catch her, you can keep her..”

william stands up, with you in his arms as michael stands back- his height with you off the ground, is enough to break a few bones in your body if you landed on the checkered tile below.

he swallows, eyes widening- he has to keep his reflexes on guard more than ever right now. you appear like a perished angel in the arms of the devil himself.. his grin mocking michael like the faces in the monitor, and the animatronic faceplates and masks before he locked all those memories away, hiding the key.

he’s concerned as to why you’re not moving, why it seems like something was done to you. he stays aware of his father’s capabilities, how this is a wild card of fate being drawn for you.

he doesn’t know what this is going to lead to. either he has to drop the torch or find a way to hold it with you as well.. but if he drops it, who’s to say william won’t take his chances to steal it from him?

michael waits, patiently- eagerly for his father to drop you, praying you land into his arms. if not, he might as well torch himself right there..

then- it happens.

with a toss, your deadweight falls with a surprising speed towards the fateful ground, as he lurches forward to catch you from underneath- michael falls into a kneeling position with you.. safe in his grasp again. he braced himself, but then looks down at you, crumpled against his body- you look more tired than when you ran away.

not a good sign, he thinks. he fucking did something to her.

he’s also surprised, that william decided not to do anything more. that was enough fodder for his hungry, fucked up soul.

even in death, he craves violence. there’s still a way to get him to behave, though.. in time.

thankful that you’re still alive, he wastes no time getting up- backing away from william, the force of evil who just now tried to take everything away from him.

how can things be repaired after a breach of trust such as this?

“good form, michael..” for the first time ever, a compliment. of course.. in the midst of almost killing the most important thing to him.

it barely registers as michael backs away, into the doorframe at first before running out with you in his arms. any traces of you both are left behind in the office with william, who is left grinning in the aftermath of his scheme.

he appears solemn, being alone once again- without your presence. for the first time, something within him is being poked in a good way- some heavy, thick walls are being progressively punched through. it’s going to take a while before any air can come in, though..

all because of how you remind him of the person he wishes he had most.

”he’ll come back,” he mutters to himself. “he always comes back.”

..

once outside, into the shimmering warm night, michael brings you to his car- fumbling with the keys to unlock it so he can place you inside on the passenger seat.

he sets you down carefully, your eyes are open slightly- but they look off. they’re glassy and vacant, like something was stolen from inside you.

he’s terrified what this means. knowing all of the things his father has accomplished, to fuck with and end the lives of innocent people- he has no clue.. and wishes he could have prevented it.

he gets in the car quickly, to begin the excruciating drive home. a sinking feeling enters his stomach as he thinks about you, but also about how he’s going to stay living here after all this.. without tonight’s pay.

next time, he goes alone.

he looks at you with concern, placing a hand on your thigh to see if you’re conscious.

“hey.. please tell me you’re okay..” he murmurs as he leans over the console to place a hand on your cheek, pulling your face to look towards him.

in your vision, his face is blurry and contorted. he almost looks scary to you, with colors flying around that aren’t usually there, even when stoned.. being high will simply enhance the colors that are already there, but this is different. it’s distracting and unfamiliar.. it’s beginning to frighten you.

you want to respond, but words for some reason won’t move past the threshold of your lips.. you feel a sense of danger so strong without the presence of william, your captor.. that fear is heightened to an irrational degree.

you know who you’re looking at, so you try to cling onto a word- something so he knows you’re at least somewhat okay. it’s almost like, your soul is trapped somewhere inside your own body, and you can’t do anything to show that it’s you who inhabits it.

it’s taking too much energy to do this, so instead you let your forehead fall against his. you begin to cry again for some reason, probably at how difficult this is to do something so simple, and how you can’t seem to regain control of your own mind.. making him feel even more scared for you. why are you so unstable?

“what’s wrong.. you can tell me,” he brushes his thumb along your face in an attempt to soothe, it’s working a little bit.. as you focus on his touch, the visual effects ebb slightly. everything happening to you internally seems to be on a moment by moment basis. it’s difficult to keep your eyes open, so you close them for the most part- to stop the environment, and michael’s face from constantly shifting.

with no response from you, he decides to start driving home- keeping a hand on yours as he glances over to observe your condition every few moments.

despair falls over him as minutes pass, with your heavy head against the seat- the silence is deafening since he’s been getting used to the sound of your voice.

you’re fighting it in your mind, a battle that he can’t see.. you’re fighting to keep him in your memory. something is attempting to wash you of michael, but you’re determined to hold on. thoughts of william are trying to creep in and replace him, some of which is succeeding..

now you’re experiencing odd auditory hallucinations… the clicking of his father’s flickering eyes as he cast a spell on you.

he wonders if talking more will help you, so he gives it a shot.

“we’re almost home, you’ll be okay.. god, i hope you’ll be okay,” he says, his voice causing you to look towards him- eyes adjusting to the man in front of you.

“what happened to me..” you say, voice hoarse from the crying earlier.

“i don’t know,” he mumbles, full of guilt and loathing for himself. “but i’m glad you’re talking to me..” he says, smiling at you before looking back at the road.

your mind feels stripped, like someone bleached it. all the comfort and safety you’ve built with him is becoming unsteady. it hurts to think too much, so you just focus on the kinetic figure beside you.

the hypnosis is working on you, like a virus.. taking the face of michael and attempting to make it evil. the pureness of your heart and soul are trying to hold onto it.

“michael.. i think he did something to me. your face.. it’s scaring me,” you still watch him, like you’re forcing the image of him to stay. “my head hurts, so much..” you press your hands against your forehead like the pressure will alleviate the pain.

the hypnosis may not have erased him from your mind completely- but it’s growing a new craving in your heart, for william. his voice and face come back to the forefront, prompting a fuzzy warm feeling to radiate through your compromised body.

“don’t worry.. you’re safe now,” he reassures you, even though he is feeling entirely the opposite. he doesn’t want to cause a rift in your already fragile emotional state. he pulls back into the driveway at 2am, headlights faltering as he exits the car heading over to your side- to get you out.

your limbs are fully weighted against his body as he carries you inside. it feels nice being held right now.. the touch of him is causing you to remember slowly, as well as seeing the inside of the house again.

after locking the door behind him, he brings you back up to his room to set you in his bed.. all he wants to know is that you will come to and not be feeling this anymore.

he just sits with you patiently, not caring about going back to fazbear’s tonight. he recalls the scene that was just presented to him- how small and helpless you appeared in the destructive, mal-intended arms of his father.. holding your face up to his in a close but strangely erroneous way.

“his eyes..” you murmur, his attention is caught again.

“what about them?” he asks, remaining fully attentive to your words and needs- to try and get to the bottom of this. he wonders what you saw, what you’re still seeing.. he’s aware of illusion disks, but this seems different from when he’s observed others being lured in by them.

you’re his life now, his duty to protect. he has more reason to keep trucking since you’ve made him feel what love is. but he doesn’t realize what william has done to change you..

“there.. is a soul behind them. i could see it. he said he would take care of me.. would give me what my parents didn’t..” you continue, your malleable brain becoming william word soup.

what the hell, seriously..

michael stays calm, and reads your face carefully. he’s not understanding your lack of focus on him, though. why he’s the one in front of you, but you keep talking and thinking about william.

“i can tell you right now. he is lying to you,” michael states, attempting to rewrite the damage his father has done to your pages. “all he has ever done is made promises he couldn’t keep. eventually he stopped making promises altogether.”

his words barely reach you. 

“i told him, i liked the feeling of you inside me..” you say, beginning to imagine william’s real body.. the one that was alive. somehow, the imprint of that has snuck through the lenses of his eyes into your brain matter.. without the illusion disk at all. but only a glimpse of it, and that paired with his delicious sounding voice- it makes you crumple up and sigh in satisfaction.. craving to see more.

his face rumples in disgust, but he keeps listening..

“and i wonder what he would feel like, too.. i can see him in my mind’s eye.. what he used to look like..” your words are making michael uncomfortable. for those few minutes he was gone, he hopes he hasn’t caused irreparable damage to you.

but is this you, or your naivety getting the best of you? the trauma causing your mind to be in a more delicate and easily moldable state.. his own bounces back and forth, trying not to let your words anger him.

“trust me, i don’t think you want that.”

“i haven’t told you this, but i would love to have you both as my family.. i want you both, to love me.. it would be so perfect, michael.. he could forgive you, using me as a catalyst..”

he can’t believe it, how this impossibility is something you want? he can’t tell if you’re joking with him or not. something about you seems possessed, like michael isn’t even in the room and you’re just talking to yourself.

he imagines the idea of sharing you with william.. the feeling makes a boiling rise inside, from deep below the aching bones and metal you’ve helped him forget about.

it really does seem like you’ve been brainwashed, but this is something you truly want- your scrambled mind matter is allowing some secrets to come through that you may have wanted to keep under wraps, as the poison tugs on parts of it like a marionette.

your love for michael is so much stronger than william right now, but the illusion of hypnosis is making him seem more important. the agony of your own pain mixed with his father’s fuel now floating around inside you is going to make you test the limits of his sanity.

he listens to your words, how they slip out of your mouth like a serpent.. something he’s not liking the sound of. he has to remind you what matters, who matters.. he can’t fathom this idea. it’s a fantasy that could never be made true.

“you’re not thinking straight right now, maybe you should rest a little..” he suggests, noticing how you look like you’ve been drained of most of your sweet essence. he hopes that isn’t the case.

you begin to laugh again, body writhing under the fog that is william- michael’s appearance seems to flip back and forth between the image of his father and himself. you bite your lip, gazing at him wantonly- but you’re not seeing him right now..

“you look so handsome.. without your suit,” you murmur, the buzzy and beautiful hallucination of him makes you think about everything you were lacking as a child. the sentiments he crooned to you as you cried and cried.. the fact you were like evan kept william perpetually engaged.

he can see you’re a lot different than before you both left a few hours ago. you seem like you’re falling apart.. he wants to do something to return your thoughts to him.

something in him is stirring, a deep and primal lust for you. what you’re saying doesn’t align with the time you both have had- and the agony coming through your disheartening speech is making him feel a stronger sense of wrath for william, filling his empty gut as he thinks about his father stealing what belongs to him.. he has to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

“come on.. you’ve waited so long for this..” you begin to beg, the well-dressed and strapping concept of william seeps into the lowered dams of your easily inhabitable mind state- as your words blister into a soft groan.

the tar spilling out of your mouth is starting to affect his remnant.. his rationality is subsiding for the moment, not thinking anymore as to why you may be saying all this.

this is so fucked. what is she trying to do, piss me off? why?

michael can feel himself begin to tremble from your absurd behavior.. and from having trouble telling if you’re serious or not as your sultry laughs are indicative of a yes, please.

his eyes narrow slightly at you, at your wriggling and reddened figure- how you appear like you want to be felt up.. but somehow, michael isn’t the one on your mind while in this pining state.

he can’t stand this feeling. this betrayal. he has to fix you.

“can you walk?” he asks, crossing his arms as he stands up to face you.

you nod as you continue to giggle, uncontrolled as the image of michael comes through when he talks. you stumble to your feet, the rush of blood once again leading to that familiar scene from when you first met him- he’s had to catch you more than once..

he holds you as your faces are close, your eyes filled with stars like you’re falling in love with him for the first time again. he stares into them.. normally full of light and endless, serene depth.. but something sinister is occupying their space right now.

“guess not,” he mumbles, moving his arms underneath your legs to lift you back up off the ground. his contact is a gentle reminder. all the memories of the past few days floods your mind as his arms bear the weight of you.

you press your face into his neck, to take in his scent again.. the feeling of his skin against yours is so reassuring and comforting in this strange and weak cerebral state.

michael feels you leaning into him- he grins as he carries you back to the table at the end of the hall, to retrieve the skeleton key from before.

“where are you taking me?” you murmur into his neck, your thumb tracing along his collarbone as he arrives at the intricately ornate door of a curious locked room.

“you’ll see.” he fiddles the key into the lock to open it, the slow revealing of a cozy, luxurious bedroom filling your vision.

william’s room. his bedroom.

he leaves the door open, like the stuffiness of its negative memories are enough to make him queasy. he has a very intentional reason for bringing you here, though.

as he sets you down on william’s unstirred silk sheets, you glance around at the personality in the room. it’s somehow both striking and tranquil.. the largest piece of stained glass so far resides here. it’s a nature scene that takes up a majority of the wall- you can easily get lost in it. you notice there are plants that have dried up in here, and even an old photo of him and his wife stuck in the edge of the vanity mirror- the glass of it is shattered to bits.

immediately, you stand up to get a closer look. somehow your balance is more steady this time- as the photo reflects the same image your mind had of him.. his hair is dark, slightly long- falling over his face in some parts similarly to michael, but not as wavy. he wears rectangular shaped glasses, thin frames.. he has an air of class to him.

as you analyze the picture, michael moves over to the stereo system. there’s a tape already inside it, one that he left there from a while ago.

a reliable but self punishing tune that he used to listen to, imagining a life other than this one. he’d blast it as he would lay on william’s bed at one point, post nights of drooging- destroying things that were valuable to him.. and thinking it made him feel better to dominate his space. like having control over what he did to his possessions did something to help the isolation he experienced every passing day.

he’d close his eyes, and listen to the words- losing himself in them- in the idea of that person, being there for him. a reason to live. this time, it will be infinitely more satisfying to listen to- with your ears on the receiving end.

michael needs to retrain you, so you remember who you truly belong to. who has really made his mark on, and inside you..

“i don’t know what he told you, but whatever it was- he was just saying to fuck with you.” he comes over to you staring down at the forgotten memory in your hand.

you take a long look at the figure in it again before directing back up at michael- something in his eyes looks a little different than before.. something ravenous.

you feel a pang of sadness, again for this unresolved strain between them.. but the hypnosis gently brings you back to william. how you want to experience what you have with michael with him… and with the both of them, someday..

this sweet injection of his father’s poison into you acts as an extended release, to make sure you get as much of him pumped into your mind as possible- almost like a kind of mental ejaculation.

“he made you.. all for me. that’s something, isn’t it? william’s greatest invention..” you tease, your words are like a disgusting sap- dripping with a venom that only reminds him more of how his father speaks and acts.

it’s confusing him to listen to you- he’s growing tired of hearing this name coming out of your mouth with such worship and ease. his father is still causing him pain in different ways. haunting his mind, attempting to infiltrate yours.. almost managing to take away everything important and special to him in one fell swoop.

“he can’t even do anything to you. what is he going to do.. finger you with that nasty fucking hand?”

you think about the fact that one of the things you brought with you was something you could use to fulfill this need with william.. another thing you’ve come to rely on as you fantasized about someone else, anyone else but the person who hurt you.

he has penetrated your mind, and permeated through the membrane of your heart.. michael still has a place there, he just has to put the sense back into you.

instead of responding, you close your eyes and press the photo to your chest- a pleasurable warmth overcoming you, like william himself is caressing you all over. the sensation is real, it makes you feel a carnal heat from within.. as you reach down to sample the wetness forming between your thighs.

michael notices this, how you seem lost in a pleasing daydream without him in it. his fist begins to clench, at the thought of how you seem to have forgotten all of your time with him.. he’ll make you remember, though.

both of your souls cling to the threads of their vulnerable interiors, what’s coming now may be just enough to bring you back up to the clouds together- or maybe.. down into the pits of hell.

he goes to stand in front of you, making a daring move- placing his fingers around your wrist and pulling you towards him- causing you to drop the photo onto the glass coated vanity. he doesn’t do it with that much force, but enough for you to notice he means business.

“i need you to know something. you’re better off with me..” michael says, unable to resist the furious tingling from his remnant acting up.

you look up at his face, somehow the anger in it translates to joy in your mind- like william himself is looking through your eyes, satisfied with the emotional state he’s put his son in. his hand around your wrist feels unusually good, unlike the times your ex would do the same.. you giggle at him, the expressions of both of you not matching in the slightest.

“you’re gonna hear my dedication song now.. since you don’t wanna listen to me.”

he can’t settle down until he figures out a way to reverse the corruption done to you. he knows how easily william can fool kids, and your essence is similar- childlike and rare.

you aren’t unintelligent by any means, in fact quite the opposite. you just tend to think with feeling a lot of the time, and this cruel world isn’t built for all that sensitivity and love welled up inside you. and knowing the predators that lurk out there, seeking to snuff that radiant light within people like you.. you want michael to protect you from it all. to be shielded once again like a small child from the horrors of this planet we inhabit.

his gaze with you holds a few moments more, as if he’s trying to read for sincerity in your eyes. your flushed cheeks and pouty lips drive him mad with desire, but confusion at your sudden preference for someone else.

“are you mad at me?” you lay yourself back onto the blissful sheets, submissively.. fondling the fabric as you think about william’s body being here..

michael stands back in front of the stereo, glaring at you excessively enjoying yourself. a hunger rises to the surface, from inside his despondent self for your honey-filled hive. knowing he’s about to pound you into that bed.. his father’s bed. in his mind, it’s a kind of vengeance. he awaits your response to him not saying anything.

“i suppose you don’t have any room for compromise, do you? eventually, you’ll have to give in- to sharing me with him..” you keep your eyes on him, steadily.. a new appreciation for this envy he has, a sense of wanting to keep you all for himself makes you excited- primarily due to this man-made intoxication.

sure, your dream to share your body and soul with two men- seems selfish. but aren’t your biting words true? his life spent in secret, he’s shyly shared with you.. no one else would love him the way you have.

that’s what sets him off. he’s determined to get this message across, that no one else can have you. he clenches his teeth at the sound of that, reaching down to turn the power on and play that song.. beginning the slow and sensual churning of an industrial beat.. with an underlay of clicking that sends your mind crawling back to william’s eyes.

he goes over to you again, looming above you on the king sized mattress. he looks like he’s contemplating what to do with you, like he’s trying to hold back more than you’re aware.

but little do you know, he’s feeling intensely hurt- the angst is binding as a result.. a defense for despair he’s learned over time.

michael still hasnt caught on to the sadistic imposter raiding your consciousness. how the real you is hiding behind the portholes of your eyes, calling his name over and over.. it feels like a bad dream, you never wanted to make him this upset.. this prototype neurotoxin is distressing to no end.

but the predispostion you had about his father made him think this dialogue is pregnant. you dont realize how william is in the same vein of your parents, regarding narcissism.

“what am i then- just here for your entertainment? well guess what.. to be a joker, you have to be well versed in comedy and tragedy.” he doesn’t know what else to say, the self-deprecating humor is making a comeback due to you unraveling.

“are you calling yourself a clown?” you laugh behind your mouth, sliding your legs towards him in a seductive manner. “sounds about right..” the more he furrows his brows, the more your internal flame inflates.

your viscious tongue combined with that sexy laugh.. he can’t take this bullshit anymore.

he puts a hand onto your shin, spreading your leg apart- then placing a knee between yours into the bed, getting right up to your face.. you swear you can feel heat from his rage and closeness right now. your cheek blaze, body tremoring with a novel, infernal joy.

“you’re behaving very badly, tonight. i need you to shut up and listen to my song.. it’s the least you can do for me..” his tone is snarky, it turns you on even more- disregarding your entire past, his forceful advances are exciting you.

“or else, what?” you stare into his eyes, noticing the distress in them. he winces slightly at the fact you used william’s exact words from earlier.

his expression shifts into anguish, wishing he would wake up from this.

“i can’t fucking believe you right now. you’re gonna get a taste of me, more sour than sweet.” he scowls, gathering your wrists to pin them above your head. his grasp is firm, not careful like before.. like he knows he’s about to lose you.

his assertiveness is appealing for how he’s acted up to this point.. before- so gentle and reluctant, all of your prodding is making him feel unlike himself. and all because you had to get william high.. the butterfly effect leading to this tragic interference of peace.

his breath is heavy, unaware that you’re drunk on his father’s concoction. finally, you close your eyes- pressing your lips eagerly to his. he grunts, sliding his tongue between yours as his aching self ensures you won’t go anywhere. he bites your lip, sucking it into his mouth and giving it a real nip.

“what was that for..” you murmur against him, feeling the sting from it. his tongue glides over your bottom lip like an animal licking a fresh wound. your chest is flushed with want, perspiring at the jolt of electric from his gesture.

“for giving me a rough time tonight. you know i need to make money to keep us here, right?” he mumbles in between your starving kisses.

you pay attention to the lyrics pulsating in your ears, how they are michael’s thoughts whispering to you through the stereo. the mechanical audio cues of it are enticing, making you feel like becoming one again with the hybrid machine that is your new best friend.

“this song is so hot.. i can’t believe you like nine inch nails.” you feel his hand move up your leg and settle on the inside of your dampened thigh.

“yeah. trent’s got a sexy voice,” he teases- “and he speaks the words of my life.”

“is this what you want to do to me, michael..” your bodies keep in close contact like two lone wolves who have given up on being alone.

“i don’t know, do you deserve it?”

“i’m your precious only ever.. don’t you think i do?” you give his lip a nip, not as hard as the one he gave you.

he sighs above you, unable to resist you anymore.. you’re with him now, that’s all that matters.

“you’re precious, all right..” he brings his lips to your neck, grazing over his imprint from before- giving it another suck to really make sure it sticks around a while. your sudden moan in response reminds him how mainlined he is to you.

you whimper a little at how sore it feels, but his aggressive touch combined with the rough sound of this love song- you’re losing yourself in him, he’s so in love with you..

william’s hypnosis is apparently no match for this proliferating passion you both have.

“that’s right.. that’s all me, baby. he couldn’t touch you the way i do..” he growls, tasting your blood again as the flesh is weak from being disturbed so much. he lets out a soft groan of satisfaction as the hot, bitter taste of you settles into the back of his throat.

“easy.. that hurts..” you pull your neck away, puffing your chest up into his face in the process. he kisses along the fat coming out of his tank top you’re wearing, letting loose a hand from your wrists so he can rub his thumb along your nipple.

the feeling of pleasure and pain makes you shudder. you’ve never felt it like this before, though.. from someone who is truly in love with you.

“yeah? i know you like it.. don’t lie to me.” some of you paints his lips like a feral animal. he licks them, smearing it along with your spit as he brings his mouth down to your breast. pressing his lips flush around your nipple, like the mouthpiece of a bong, he sucks and swirls his tongue in a spiral- using his hand to caress the soft skin of your hip and waist, then along your stomach.. the feeling of this, of you- your warm breast filled with substance- a mound above your wildly pulsing organ below.. makes him almost quiver from the instant gratification.

you arch your back slightly from the overwhelming sensation- now tangling your fingers into his unkempt hair.. the erection in his jeans is pressing painfully against the zipper- you move your hand to rub over it, feeling a twitch from your contact. he pushes into your grasp, breaking the seal with your breast to mutter something crude.

“you can’t get enough of me, can you? he can never make you feel what i do.. doesn’t even have the fucking parts to do it anymore..” he marvels in the feeling of your living flesh against every nerve that survived- residing in his skin that’s flush to yours. he can feel every pulse pressing into him, not realizing how arrogant he’s sounding- like some of his dna is programmed, doomed for repeating history.

“thought you wanted to stop talking about him..” you give his erection a soft squeeze as you kiss along the bruise you made on his neck.

“you’re so fucking cheeky.. it hurts sometimes.”

michael is waving a sense of possession over you- your exhausted brain succumbs to all of his demands and insecurities. your body lays below him, in a more satisfying and helpless position than the way you laid upon william’s lap earlier in the night.

but don’t worry, he is hard at work- revising the potency of his infatuation potion.. ultra enhancing it with his image in case it takes longer to acquire the materials to finalize his plan with the disks.

the sight of you calming down and revving back up from his hands and mouth all over you might indicate that you’re ready for takeoff. without a word- he releases his grip from your wrists completely, now that you’re re-stockholmed. he begins focusing on your body- an indulgent dessert he’s going to revel in all to himself.

trailing his lips along you, the skin of both of your breasts- he can’t believe he hasn’t explored this part of you more. the pillowy soft comfort of them is intensely dispelling, almost maternal as he was missing that part of his life too. his mother was too preoccupied with a way to hold onto  william, that her children fell a rung in her priorities.

he takes a tactile roadtrip down your stomach, down to the space between your thighs- a subtle blood trail fading out as he makes this trek with his mouth. the scent of you is distinct, especially when it blends with him. he’s familiar with the smell of you now with how much you’ve fucked the past two days. that’s another reason he’s so attached.. because you’ve provided him with a thing that he had decided he would just forget about, as he’d probably just die alone- after sinking to the bottom of the downward spiral..

he tastes the cum on you, kissing along your wet thighs- feeling how much your legs are trembling from his own doing. he gives your other lips some attention, setting a round of fireworks off in your heart.. his tongue moves slowly, sliding in and around with deliverance- sealing contact to suck on you as he loses himself in the endless forest of your body and soul.

his hot head of remnant is cooling only a little, from the taste of you perplexing his senses, drinking in your sweet essence.. he needs that, to become part of him. to help him become somebody else.

the intermittent sound of your moans on the mattress keeps turning him on- some precum makes a pool around the fabric of his work pants, sinking into william’s bedsheets.. he holds your legs, keeping them apart as you let him eat you out.. this is something your exes never did. never did they think it was important or worth it enough to pleasure you in this way.

when he returns to face level, michael observes the roses blooming in your cheeks- his mouth and chin glistening with you. another thing william can’t accomplish, even if he used illusion disks.. he could never use his lips on you in this way. this experience is regaining his confidence little by little. he still can’t believe you both made it out alive.

“you liked that? i’ve got more for you..” he licks his lips before removing his pants, an obstacle- then embedding himself in you, enraptured in your heat again.. this time, he’s a little more rough- not enough to make it hurt, but he really puts some umph into it. before, he was mostly slow and savored you- the sights and sounds of your aching pleasure are different with every way he fucks you.

he loves that he can see your face when you come, only he is now on top of you.. making sure he’s in your line of view. to retain your image of him.

his thrusts coincide with the symphony of your moans, signifying his success in making you both feel like the only ones in the world again.. the prose in the final words of the tune circulates through the room, thumping in time with its stimulating electronic instrumentals.. in sync with the beat of your pulse against him with every hot slap against your wanton flesh.

see this, william? hear it, even? she likes what i do to her, she can’t get enough of this.. of me. of my body- can’t believe i was afraid before. his body is laughable compared to mine.. stupid fucking spring bonnie, it’s fucking hilarious..

his bitter inner monologue is unusually directed outward, towards his father now instead of himself.

thick, dark drops of his blood fall through the empty cavity of his torso into a stream on your perspiring skin- harmonizing into a red and white river with the cum and spit all over you like some kind of esoteric art project.. it flows down into where he’s anchored to you, making your heart feel like it could burst at the thought of his blood and your own fluids combining there..

he watches you, making sure to take in all of it- your labored breaths, whimpering moans, the mess of your liquids continuously colliding.. your body and mind are so wracked in good and bad ways that your eyes struggle to stay open.. but you catch the beautiful union of your bodies smushing together below, as he leans down to press his forehead to yours.

“good, baby.. keep singing for me.. you’re gonna make me love you even more when i cum all over you.. sexy fucking thing..” he mutters to you breathlessly- funny, how you’re both hypnotized, but not by each other.

”do it.. give me everything..”

instead of finishing inside you, this time he lets himself go on your chest.. of course from how much more he’s putting into it, there’s no denying the presence of his blood spread across you like a vile marmalade. this delicate mix of his cum and blood lathered along your skin is like a second pact, a rewriting of commandments. a gracious ointment for both of your susceptible souls.

some of him makes it onto your lip, as you lick it off he gives you a kiss.. tasting himself on you. he’s never really liked getting this messy, but you’re definitely the exception.

the image of him stays this time after his and your climax, something that was still unsteady throughout your session together.. you could still see william at times, his real body before you.. but sometimes flashing with his current state.. it was quite the picture show.

you exhale, the huffs and puffs subsiding as you steady your breathing. your groans keep filling the air as michael leaves more hickeys on your body.. on your inner thigh, breast, the fat of your hip.. like a bucketlist he’s trying to fulfill. he can’t resist implanting these marks of territory on your petite and voluptuous figure.

“why do you try so hard for me?” you ask, knowing full well you don’t deserve the redeemable quality of michael.

he retracts, satisfied with your canvas he’s filled.

“you’re the reason i stay alive.”