#SJDKHGLKDESHGLUIERHGIUHDGF

[spaciebabie]

Shoes thrown at the door, spilled a bit of leftovers that you’ll clean up later, piled papers on the counter. Whatever. You just need rest right now. The sun is already down, and a bed sounds great.

You step into your little living room, about to hit the light switch to keep from bumping anything in the dark, but you notice that the desk lamp is on. Your eyes slowly adjust as you search the space. Your gaze then lands on the one chair you have that’s actually pretty nice, but on that chair sits a large mechanical rabbit. His head rests in his propped-up hand. He stays practically motionless, gazing into the darkness ahead of him. Your hand drops from the light switch. Springtrap liked it either being dim or completely dark. You had to admit, the lamp light was kind of comforting.

You give a deep sigh just thinking about everything that happened earlier today, then give a half-hearted and distracted, “Hi.”

Springtrap abruptly snaps out of his trance, looking over with his faintly-glowing, lidded eyes. Though the suit’s face always had a bit of a smile to it, it could move to make a few other expressions, and you could tell this was one of content as he recognized it was you in the doorway. He responds with a low, calm, and quiet, “Ah. Hello.”

Seeing your more-tired-than-usual look, Springtrap’s brows then furrow and the metal of his ears make a light “clink” as they drop back and to the side: a silent question about your expression.

You perform quite the full-body stretch -legs, back, neck, arms- while muttering, “It’s been a long day.”

There’s a mechanical click as Springtrap’s ears flick forward at your comment. “Longer than twenty-four hours?” his worn and grainy voice jokes as he leans back a little further into his chair, seemingly less worried about your condition being something big.

You can’t even be bothered to shoot him a semi-serious glare while beginning to trudge into the room, heading for your bedroom just past him.

Springtrap slowly sits up at your lack of response, brows knitting once more. His hand falls away from under his chin as watches you step tiredly through the dark.

You make it halfway into the living room before two fingers slip into your empty hand. You look over to see Springtrap leaning forward in the chair, his weathered digits now lightly gripping yours. He carefully pulls your arm towards him until it’s at its length, looking from your hand to your face. Not a demand, but an offer.

With no resistance, you turn to him and slowly step up to the chair. He takes one of the pillows from the other seats, placing it on top of his otherwise-hard-cased legs, then leans forward once more. One lightly-furred arm rubs up behind your knees, and the other presses against your back as he slowly eases you up onto his lap.

You curl into a ball, your head falling into the padding on his torso. It was like another pillow, but one with a few little holes to poke your hands into and pinch the edges of. Its fur was soft, especially compared to what remained of the suit’s plush, and rubbing your face against it never got old.

Springtrap sinks into the chair once again, arms slowly closing over you, one hand carefully holding your head. His ears droop forward over his face as he lowers his head to yours.

His false-breaths rumble in his mechanisms, creating a soothing purr. Warm, calm, and gentle.

-heartbeat anon [returns]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HEARETBEAT ANON RETURNS