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[beeperis]

i've been ghosting // Tim Wright/Reader

cross-posted on my Ao3 summary ; tim can't sleep without you. warnings ; implications of suicide, death, fictional afterlife (I just kinda made stuff up as I went tbh), paranormal, angst with slight comfort notes ; the lore may be incorrect but by golly. I need to get this out of my system. also not edited, I need to sleep (currently 3am)

It's easy to assume death is the only way to finally escape the Operator. You figured that all your friends who were formerly tormented by It were no longer suffering, since they were six feet under or missing. It pained you to relive the evening of your death, but it all ended in a bathtub with your favorite song playing in an effort to build up enough courage.

Obviously, there were people you regretted leaving behind: your parents, who you had to distance yourself from in order to protect them. Your friends who laid awake at night questioning what they could've done differently, or why you stopped talking to them one day without warning.

Tim Wright, the one who had unintentionally gotten you roped into what eventually ended your life.

By some odd accord, his drab apartment is where you ended up. You remembered dying. You remembered your lungs filling with water before peacefully falling victim to unconsciousness. And now, you were sitting in the corner of the room watching him sleep.

It wasn't like if you were trying to be creepy. It was one of the only things you could do: watch Tim lay awake all night, get out of bed late in the afternoon, go to the bathroom and occasionally eat, then return and sleep for a long time.

It was depressing, to say the least.

At night, your presence would curl up beside him in bed as he would shiver and pull the blankets further up on his body. You frowned at the idea of him only thinking he was cold. When he got up to go to the restroom, you'd follow right behind and wait outside the door until he was done. You lit up whenever he'd go to the kitchen and actually eat.

That night started off no different than the previous. He got ready for bed as you sat patiently, admiring him like a lost puppy or a stalker. Tim yawned and crawled into bed, covering himself up to his hips. You curled up behind him like you usually did, except this time, he laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling.

"I miss you." Hearing Tim's voice shocked you, causing you to abandon your usual position at his side and sit upright. You stared down at him, his deep brown eyes staring into nothing. Part of you wondered who he was talking about; he'd lost so many.

Almost as though he was answering your question, he continued. "I just wish I could've told you I loved you. That day I went over to your house to check on you, finding you like that…" Tim trailed off, his voice choking up whilst his eyes welled with tears that glistened from the light of the TV.

After a moment's pause, his body slightly trembled with heavy, troubled sobs. The sight broke you. You were sure there wouldn't be any pain in the afterlife, but watching the one you treasured more than the stars crumple into a hellscape of his own mind was simply too much.

Tim curled into a ball, fully breaking and hugged his knees closer to his chest. You wanted to cry too, listening to him mumble, "it's my fault," through broken cries. On instinct, you placed a hand on his arm like how you'd done comforting him in the deaths of his friends. Tim froze.

He stopped crying, but still remained tensed up. He never even made a sound. Instead, his eyes fell to where you had touched his arm. Something felt so familiar about whatever brushed against his arm, but he disregarded it as being a bug. Still, it felt like he couldn't continue crying.

This didn't go unnoticed by you. Finally, you recognized a glimpse of nostalgia in those profound, fawn-colored eyes. Experimentally, you reached out to hold his hand in your translucent one.

Tim abruptly sat up in bed, breathing heavily as he stared at his hand. So cold, yet it held the warmth and fullness of a lover claimed by the inevitable fate of time. You could've sworn you heard him mutter your name.

Daringly, you brought up another cold hand to caress his face. "I'm here," you spoke softly to attempt to reassure him. You had no idea if he could hear you. More than anything, it was a plea for him to notice you. To look you in the eyes and smile with the same familiarity, wrap you up in the tightest hug you'd felt in ages, and promise to never leave your side.

Rather than doing any of the aforementioned, tears continued rolling down Tim's cheeks. "I miss you," he cried once more. You could handle it no longer, and uncertainly tried wrapping him in a hug. To your surprise, it seemed as though he felt it given the way his body relaxed, almost easing into your nonexistent touch.

After a few more heart-wrenching tears and whispers of, "I love you," and, "I miss you, baby," Tim finally began easing himself back down into his bed. You, as always, were curled up right behind him. Your eyes wandered over to his digital alarm clock, red letters lighting up certain portions of the room.

It was 2:22 am when he finally went to sleep, clutching a tear-soaked pillow he imagined was you.

[beeperis]

imo karl heisenberg is perfect for people with daddy issues in the sense that he is exactly like a father without actually being one. he'll bitch at you for getting a 5/16" wrench instead of a 7/16" wrench or not holding the flashlight straight while he's under the hood of a beyond-salvagable truck

[beeperis]

it is an actual CRIME how little I post on here nowadays omg. anyway! 

I’m finally in a stable, happy point in my life to where I don’t need to write for comfort, just out of contentness B) anyway! as long as school doesn’t keep me insanely busy, I’ll try my best to spit out little bits of fnaf (mainly william/michael stuff) drabbles, writings, imagines etc.! 

until then, my ultimate fnaf theory that definitely contributes to the lore

these little crumpled bits of paper on the desk are michael’s sheets he doodles on since it’s confirmed he draws in the survival guide

also. that’s 100% dr. pepper in that red stripey cup. michael is severely dehydrated from never drinking water, only dr. pepper

[beeperis]

still alive i promise!! i've been painfully busy lately but i'm planning on making a list of all the characters i write for and posting it here soon to make it easier for people who want to send requests :))

[beeperis]

I deeply need a part two to your last post 🙈 in fact, 10 more parts would be perfect.

Thank you though fr it’s so cute 🤞

hello! here’s one with michael! i meant for it to be just a short imagine, but it ended up as a small fic so here you go! ^^ -~*~- summary ; your husband’s (william) son michael really dislikes you for some reason. but one night, he comes home covered in injuries from a fight, so you patch him up!  warnings ; brief mentions of parent death, descriptions of nonfatal injuries/bruises pairings ; implied william afton x gn! reader, platonic michael afton & parent! reader notes ; this was so fun to write! i love writing fluff in general, but domestic fluff is my favorite <3 -~*~- Ever since you married William, Michael didn't really like you. He thought you were simply a replacement for his birth mother, whom you later learned had died several years earlier. He was cold, and whereas the other Afton children were quick to see you as a parental figure, it took a long time for him to stand even being in the same room as you. You had made several genuine attempts to get him to warm up to you--but none of them had worked. 

Things like offering to make him breakfast, attempts to make small talk while driving him to school, and simply asking about his music taste were all met with a snarky huff and an eye roll. William reassured you that it was simply because he was just a teenager going through a rebellious phase. "And that's normal, dearest. I love you more than words could ever express," William told you one night, rubbing your shoulders comfortingly. But despite Michael's clear distaste of you, you were determined to befriend him! You just hadn't quite figured out how yet. Any efforts to talk to him often ended with a door being slammed in your face. This kind of thing hurt your feelings, but, like William said, he was just an edgy teen, so you didn't think too much of it.  Tonight was really no different. It was about 8pm, and you were in bed reading a fantasy novel you picked up at the bookstore. William had to work late once more, leaving you alone with the kids. You didn't mind though! Evan was downstairs having a 'movie night' as he called it, where he brought every single one of his stuffed animals to the couch to watch television with him. Lizzie was downstairs as well, scribbling messy doodles of cats and ice cream onto a few sheets of paper. But as for Michael? You had no idea where he was. He said he was going bowling with his friends, but he'd been gone for close to four hours now. You were starting to worry.  As your eyes roamed the pages of the book, frantic and loud knocks at your bedroom door made you snap back into reality. You quickly set the book down, leaving it open on the bed so you wouldn't lose your place. You got up to answer the door as the desperate knocking continued. "Hold on, I'm coming!" You said. Standing at your door was Michael. His bottom lip looked to be busted with how it was swollen, his skin was covered in dark red bruises, his nose was gushing blood, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. "Holy shit, what happened to you?!" You blurted out. You reached out a hand to caress Michael's face. He didn't even smack your hand away, which seemed strangely out-of-character for him.  He sniffled. "I-I got my ass kicked," he whimpered out between sobs. Normally you'd scold him for that kind of language, but now wasn't the right time. Your parental instincts kicked in immediately. "Shhh, it's okay." You wrapped an arm around his waist and led him to the bathroom located in yours and William's shared bedroom. 

Every so often, Michael would bring a hand up to his face to wipe at the tears, still blubbering about the other boys who "beat the shit out of him," as he put it. You helped Michael up onto the bathroom counter as you started to search the cabinets for a rag. You found one, and as you ran the cloth under the sink for a moment or two, you tried asking him what had happened. Michael's tears had finally eased up a bit as he explained that he wasn't comfortable sharing what happened. "S-sorry," he apologized out of nowhere. You turned off the sink, wringing out the cloth. "There's nothing to apologize for, hun. You're the one who just got into a fight! You've done nothing wrong, I promise." You began softly dabbing at the dried blood around his nose. His light blue eyes looked away from you. "No, for like, everything," he mumbled. You tilted your head a bit in confusion. "Everything? What do you mean?" Michael sighed deeply. He wasn't used to apologizing or even regretting his actions. "For being an asshol--" You were quick to cut him off, "Language."  "Right, sorry. For being...Really rude to you for no reason. You seem like a nice person, and my dad's a lot happier whenever you two are together. I guess I never really got over my mom's death and when you came into the picture, I felt like he was just trying to replace her." He paused for a moment. "But that's clearly not the case. He loves you. A lot, actually. He wouldn't shut up about you when he first met you. God, it was all I heard for like, a month." You chuckled lightly, a warmth seeping into your heart at the mention of William being soft for you.

"Thank you, Michael. That means a lot to hear." You smiled. "But promise to try not to get into anymore fights like this, okay?" You said. Michael shrugged his shoulders, a malicious grin painting his features. "No promises."

[beeperis]

just a short little thing, but:  Imagine being William's partner and slowly becoming a positive parental figure to his kids. Evan waking the both of you up because he had a nightmare--tiny fists rapping at your door in quick time, as if he was being chased by a monster. You open the door, lifting him up into your arms and pressing a small kiss to his tear-stained cheek. "It's okay, little bear. Wanna sleep in our bed tonight?" You offered. Evan looks over at your queen-sized bed, seeing his father still half-asleep. He shakes his head 'no' frantically, small fingers clutching tighter onto your shirt. Noticing his fear, you quickly reassure him, "It's alright! He won't be mad at you. I promise." Evan buries his face in your chest, gripping your shirt even tighter. You get him settled into the soft blankets, and for once, his fearful expression fades, finally relaxing. His brows were no longer furrowed; his mouth was no longer pointed downwards in a frown. Evan was nuzzled between you and William, finally safe from all of the monsters in his mind.

[beeperis]

nightmare comfort. // Michael Afton x Reader summary ; you wake up from a nightmare and Michael comforts you <33 warnings ; none! mention of having nightmares, but that's it. pairings ; michael afton x gn! reader notes ; this was highly self-indulgent and written in like 30 minutes. also my first time writing for Michael :')

It happened again.

You hated nightmares. Despised them. Every morning whenever you'd wake up without having one, you'd smile a bit to yourself, convinced they were no more.

But it happened again, just like it always does.

The memories flashed through your head, all at once. The memories from the event itself and the memories that had been accurately recreated in the nightmare, painfully so. You couldn't help the tears that pricked your eyes. Before you knew it, the tears turned into full-blown sobs, essentially bawling your eyes out.

You felt someone grab your shoulders, ripping you from your thoughts. It was calm, gentle, almost as if the person was afraid of hurting you. "Hey..." Came a soft voice.

Michael.

You looked back to face him. His blue eyes looked tired, his dark brown hair was ruffled by sleep; you could tell he had just awoken. "Go back to bed please," you managed to say through tears.

"It's a bit too late for that now, love." Michael smiled and caressed your cheek, encouraging you to look him in the eye. Your brows furrowed, and before you knew it, you were bawling again.

It was something about his soft, nurturing tone of voice. It was such a major contrast to the trauma you had relived in your nightmare. Michael's words were like a calm summer sky, painted a sweet cerulean with a few small, puffy, white clouds scattered across.

He pulled you into his arms, clutching you to his chest as if he were terrified of losing you. "Shhhhh, I've got you. I'm right here. Was it a nightmare?" He asked gently. 'Christ, this man is a fucking angel,' you thought before nodding your head, still pressed up against his chest.

"I'm so sorry, darling. You never deserved to go through any of that." Michael's words were paired with him rubbing your back in an effort to reassure you. "We've both been through a lot, but you know what that makes us?"

You thought for a moment before shrugging your shoulders. You hadn't even noticed that the tears had stopped quite a while ago. "It makes us incredibly strong. For weathering the storm, for still being here despite what we've endured."

Your head was still buried in his chest, so you didn't see Michael beginning to tear up as well. "I know the nightmares suck. Believe me. But I'm here to help, and I always will be." He pressed a small kiss to your forehead, causing you to smile slightly and bury your head deeper into his chest.

"I love you," you said quietly. This wasn't something you were ashamed of admitting; you loved him with every fibre of your being. Although every time you said it, you found your face warming up with the same flustered feeling you had two years ago when you first confessed to him. Michael smiled softly. "I love you too. More than you could ever possibly imagine."