#The Horror Attraction- Fazbear's Fright | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnamonroll-anon · 26 days

Note

Hello! If its okay to request, Could you do fnaf?

With Springtrap, Scraptrap (and Glitchtrap/Burntrap ) react to Reader as William Afton's daughter. With the reaction of them with ghost of Afton (or Afton's fatherly love or any alike) to his adult daughter, who's working in Fnaf location(s) and also the only living/surviving family member

Lost to Time: Springtrap x Daughter!Reader (Platonic)

A/n: Of course I'd do fnaf! It's literally like my favorite! I know you asked for different versions of Springtrap and to keep things from being confusing I'll spilt them into a timeline order. Sorry if this isn't what you requested have a nice day anon!

Warnings: Platonic Paring, Angst, Gendered Reader but i still used GN pronouns

You were the youngest of the Afton family, being around 3 when the incident at Fredbears Family Diner hospitalized and killed Evan. You were treasured in the family, but you couldn't understand what was happening around you. At first, Evan was gone, then your mother left, soon Elizabeth disappeared and last but not least your father was presumed dead. The remaining family member at the time was Michael, but he was barely a teen, he couldn't take care of you.

He had learned about everything that had happened, from the divorce of his parents, the tragic accident that killed Elizabeth and the eventual madness of his father. Michael was glad that you were left out of all this and felt both happy and heartbroken by how young you were, you wouldn't remember this. He gave you up for adoption and requested that your last name would be changed, hoping to spare you the burden of your real family, and to correct the sins of his father.

You grew up into a normal family, you had never once doubted the legitimacy of your relation, but you had odd dreams. Times of different faces and colorful birthdays, patterned walls and floors. In the end it all drifted away like a fever dream, one that felt so close and real. You eventually came across Fazbear's Fright, a horror attraction based on a long urban legend of the town you recently moved to. You had much fun reading through the documentaries, yet the mystery of the man behind the slaughter was still unsolved. He was presumed dead, and you hoped it stayed that way. You didn't want to end up on the victim list.

You remember the first day you came to work, how the man on the phone was ecstatic to have actually found one of the old animatronics. You flicked the cameras to look at it, or as much as you could in the dimly illuminated space it sat in. It was horrible to look at, it was rotten and was practically on the verge of decay, which made it perfect for the attraction. The room that you were in was stuffy, the constant need to check on the ventilation was tiresome throughout the night. You would check the camera's and look at the rabbit suit, you swore it wasn't looking at the camera when you got here. You brushed it off as a lack of oxygen or the animatronic glitching and moving. Yeah, it probably could do that.

The next night you knew you weren't crazy or delirious, that thing moved on it's own. The most uncanny part of it was it's movement, it was too fluid for a rusting robot. Eventually you figured out a way between handling your hallucinations of paranoia and redirecting the animatronic throughout the attraction. It was a frivolous task, and you weren't sure how long you'd make it, until eventually it was looking at you through the glass in front of you.

He wasn't sure how long he was stuck in that closet but he was sure glad he wasn't trapped again, that was until he realized he was in another building, one that imitated the old locations. It was like this place was taunting him, reminding him of his past, of the horrible choices that had sealed his fate. As he tried roaming around the building at night he realized he wasn't alone, someone was watching through the cameras. A twisted idea came to Springtrap's mind, if he couldn't get out of the building by his own means, he could hunt down the guard here for sport.

He continued with this plan, promising himself that he was only killing whoever was there for their keys, yet he knew that deep inside of him he just wanted to quench a crazed desire. On some night's, when he didn't turn to follow the taunting noises of children's laughter he would make it to the glass that separated you two. He would observe you, quick glances to intense stares. The glass was obviously dirty, it was hard to make out your face, bit something deep down told him you were familiar. Were you one of the old guards? Or perhaps someone he was aquatinted with? No. You looked too familiar, almost as if he could put a name to your face. As these nights continued he not only grew more reckless but also more desperate to figure out who you were. Who were you to remind him of the time he was alive?

One night you were falling behind on your tasks finding yourself, having to decide between running the chance of that thing getting inside of the office or having clean air. You survival instinct kicked in and you chose to run the ventilation, gasping for breath as you hungrily breathed in, trying to get rid of the lightheadedness that fogged your brain. It was his chance, he swiftly moved into the office, acquaintance or not he was done being trapped inside the forsaken place. That was until he got a good look at you.

It was as if his very heart felt a sudden pain, a newfound sense of dread washing over him as he froze in place, looming over you too closely. You were terrified of this thing in front of you and you both entered a long and painful stare down. You couldn't be, but you were. His child, his youngest. What he used to find the most precious in his life. It was complicated, he was used to being this, being Springtrap, but right now he could only feel the presence of William. He couldn't hurt you, old memories flooding his mind as he inspected you. He ended up retreating back into the furthest room and you were panicking at the close call of your certain demise.

He sat and contemplated, he would remember how gently he held you when you first came into the world. How your laughter would light up his heart, he would've done anything to make you smile. You were so young and now you were so much older. He couldn't believe it, how he had practically forgotten you, so driven by his bloodthirst. He wondered what became of you, of Michael. Michael? Where was he? Was he with you? Did you grow up without them? Had you cried when everyone had left? As he sat he could almost cry, he had abandoned you, he had acted so reckless that he had carelessly thrown away all of his life. All of your life. The life of his entire family.

It drove him insane thinking and spiraling in that room. He would dig his hands into the moldy and matted fur of his so called body. He wasn't that man anymore, he was something else. He had made peace with that, but a part of him, this old spirit of William Afton would come to haunt him. It brought a new sense of terror to his situation, a headache to deal with who he was. He was Springtrap not William, but there would always he a sliver of William in him.

The next nights were odd for you, he wasn't moving around much, neither did he appear hostile. He would go up to the window and stare at you before walking away mindlessly. In a sense you were still his beloved daughter, even if you were the last of what remained from the past. Then one night, things became more creepier to you because he'd begin to do something that normal animatronics could do... He began to talk. And not preprogrammed daiolgue, this thing was talking on it's own. You wondered what would've been more unerving, this thing spouting out jumbled speech or showing signs of actual sentience.

It had started once again where the glass separated the two of you, his voice came out pained and raspy, truly worthy of his appearance. "Who are you?"

He already knew the answer in his heart, but he felt this strange need to connect with you. Either that or the sheer isolation of god knows how long, he wanted to get to know you better. That's how you would spend the night, talking to this animatronic. As you got a better look at him you began to notice something alarming, he had organs, decaying organs.

"What about family? Any lost members or accidents?" He wanted to know if you remembered, if there was any hope you knew about him.

"No, just a normal family in the suburbs, well as normal as we can be. I've seen my sibling chug down a whole litter of soda in one sitting, though." He was amused by you, but he was quickly losing hope in you, about you actually knowing who he was.

"Really? No divorce or family issue?" You've had to remember his split with his wife, these things are what children tend to remember... right?

"No, my parents love each other to bits, the only time I've seen them fight was over who ate thier ice cream before movie night." You were beyond weirded out by his specific questions, but that morbid curiosity kept you answering them. Maybe it's because you also would've interrogated this thing, had you not been felt like a cornered animal. You were lucky that the night was coming to an end but you needed to figure out what this thing was before you left.

"What even are you?"

"You could say I'm what little remains of the man I used to be." He answered as he looked over his own body in contemplation.

"And who would that be?"

"I was once known as William, William Afton." You felt the way your fists tightened and the sense of terror that struck you. You were now in very real danger. Stuck in a building with a murder. A child murderer.

"Why? Why haven't you killed me yet then?" Possibly the worst thing to ask a six foot animatronic with a serial killer for a resident.

"You remind me of someone, my youngest child, but I'm afraid they were too young at the time." He mused to himself before leaning closer to the window, making eye contact with you. It was chilling, those glossy and clouded silver eyes, eyes of a decaying corpse.

"What utter nonsense, I'd never be related to a monster like you!"

"Is that so? Then have you ever bothered to ask if you're related to your so called parents?"

"Don't you dare bring them into this!" You practically barked out to the now smug animatronic.

"Upset much? Not that it matters, I know my own when I see them. You look so identical from when you did before." He responded almost fondly as his gaze softened for a fraction of a second. As soon as the clock hit six you bolted out of the building and into your car in disbelief.

He had left you with more questions than answers. He was William Afton, the infamous killer and co-creator of the Fazbear company. That and how much he was digging into your own past, like he knew something was off. You didn't want to believe him, that atrocity, but you had decided to confront your parents that night.

You felt as though your world came crashing down. What do you mean you were adopted?!

"Why didn't you tell me this before? Why did you keep this away from me? I'm old enough to know. It wouldn't have changed how I viewed you, but this has to do with my biological family!" You were beyond distressed, you felt mortified by these new findings.

"Trust us we wouldn't have kept this away from you had it not been by his wishes."

"Who's wishes?" Who else's say in the matter could be more important than you knowing the truth.

"Your brothers wishes. Listen, you came from a... complicated background, he wanted to save you from that burden. He requested to have your name changed so that you'd have a better chance at life than him." You could tell by their look in their eyes that it came from a place of sincerity, this wasn't done to cause you any strife.

"Please, I just want to know the truth... How was my life before the adoption? Please." Eventually they sat you down, before explaining to you your foreign past.

They first explained the death of your two middle siblings, Evan and Elizabeth, how your mother had divorced your father. And lastly that your father had died tragically as well. This story wouldn't have been so disturbing had they not explained why this happened. Because you were an Afton, the daughter of William Afton. They tried to explain to you all the sickening details of your past and how eventually it was just Micheal and you. You felt tears in your eyes as your parents comforted you. You couldn't believe you were related to William Afton, and it felt worse knowing that he was still alive in that bunny suit.

You had understood why your past was considered better buried, it was the connections to a tragic family and evidence to the murders. Your parents told you how Micheal had told them everything, it felt like a secret they needed to hide from you to give you the semblance of a normal life. You wondered if Michael was still out there somewhere. Was he alright? You couldn't really bother asking those what if's, especially because you'd have to return to work tomorrow. Back with him.

It was an awkward meeting but he felt delighted to see you again. You talked with him cautiously, I mean he was now a rotting corpse and a killer. You ended up learning that as much as this was your father he had also changed, like his spirit lived on but not who he used to be. He talked about how he lamented not taking care of you, ignoring everything for his ultimate goal and eventually giving into his sinister desire. But in a bittersweet way he way glad you never got involved, unlike Michael, he still remembers how terrified Micheal was of him. You granted him some grace to get to know you, and deep down in his un-beating heart he was greatful, for a part of him still recognized you as his beloved child. He was not only more gentle towards you, but even caring about your life outside of this attraction. You'd end up telling him that it made sense why this attraction was so distant and familiar to you, it used to remind you of the old diner and birthday parties you had seen. Glimpses of your old life.

He found it odd how he cared for you even going as far as holding you close in his embrace. It brought small tears to his eyes when he did, when was the last time he held you or anyone in the past thirty years. He allowed his parental love for you to shine through and you allowed it to reciprocate, when you felt comfortable enough.

One day this little routine of yours changed, you were swapped with another night guard and given the day shift. It was odd, it's not like you saw him as your father, you knew he couldn't be that to you anymore, not after what he did, but still you wanted to know him. Like the small bit of your past you could talk to, the closest thing to your old family. As semi disappointed as you were you continued the week working, hoping to maybe sneak around to talk to springtrap, but to your horror the attraction was burned down. When you had arrived in the morning, there were police and firefighters. The attraction was burned to the ground only ashes and some old structure remained, charred and on the verge of collapse.

You went home with a sense of dread and grief in the pit of your stomach. The man you could've called your father could now be gone forever. You waited restlessly for any news, hoping that he was still alive somehow. You got an email letting you know that you were let off, nothing was salvageable, only small objects and that the original fazbear suit was gone, presumably burnt to nothing. You felt yourself swallow a lump at your throat, it wasn't fair, you had just found out the truth only to have it stripped from you again, your family stripped from you again.

Time would go on until you found another job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place. You were honestly trying to cope with everything, the death of your father, the guilt of what he had done and not being able to find your brother Michael. You were hired as well as another man, he was a bit older than you and looked sickly, but you never commented on it. He would often wear a mask to hide his face, probably to hide whatever condition did that damage to him. You both would scavenge and build up the pizzeria, bringing old animatronics in. The one that caught your eye was a familiar bunny costume, a run down green one you never thought you were going to see again.

When you brought him in at first he wouldn't recognize you. It stung in your heart as he would become another one if the mindless animatronics thirsting for blood and vengeance. You stayed longer after your shift with your coworker, telling him that you just needed a couple of minutes before you left. You'd end up confronting him, or what he calls himself now, Scraptrap. It took some back and forth between you and this version of him.

"You can't just go ahead and ruin their lives, my life, and not possibly remember. Here I thought you actually changed, but you've showed me that the old William Afton didn't give up on his despicable goals!" That voice, he knew it, like a nagging feeling in his gut before he heard that name. William. William Afton. That's who he was. Nobody else knew, unless. He called you out by your name, too apologetically, stunned as he inspected you.

You turned and faced the estranged face of Scraptrap, he looked at you more softly, gently raising his hand before gently cupping your face. How could this be? Could fate really have been this cruel to merge your paths again? You couldn't help the tears, after all he's done he was still your father, and he wasn't dead.

You'd both would spend some time again with each other, making sure your coworker didn't catch the two of you talking. It would've been one really awkward conversation. You lamented Scraptrap, his mind was deteriorating, getting corrupted by his twisted impulses. You feared the little remnant of your father would fade into nothing and you'd be stuck with a deranged killer in his place. Scraptrap could feel that strange sense in his chest again, that desire to protect you, to show you compassion and care. Could he even be capable of that at this point? He felt like he was in too deep to back down now.

It was soon the end of the week, you were so proud of how far you and your coworker were able to get this place up and running. That was until the animatronics, or one of them began to talk, Scrap Baby. She carried an ominous and erie message, almost like the cards were in her favor until the communication cut off and another man began to talk, Henry. He had revealed in the message that Scrap Baby was Elizabeth, you swore you almost entered a breakdown again. Elizabeth? Elizabeth Afton? Your sister?

Both you and your coworker had collected all the possessed animatronics, with Henry wishing to set them free and to end William for once and for all. You could feel the way the building grew more hotter by the second and the escape route was mentioned and you began to panic. You tugged on the sleeve of your coworker, trying to get him to leave with you.

"We need to leave, now! I know this all seems crazy but we can still escape, come on!"

"I'm not going anywhere, I've made my peace with this."

"What are you even talking about?! We need to go now!" You could feel the way the fire was slowly approaching your office, you could hear the terrible noises those creatures made. It was agonizing, especially knowing that Scraptrap was one of them, but you couldn't afford to save him, not when you could barely save yourself.

"I want to stay here and let this whole tragedy end, I'm right where i need to be. There's nothing out there for me."

"You can't just say that!" You could practically taste the smoke, a sheer miracle you haven't started coughing.

"You don't understand! I'm William's son! I'm that monsters family, I've been working to undo the damage he's caused, to right his wrongs. I've been following his trail for all of my life and now... I just want to rest..." He said as he finally drew his face mask off. He looked horrible, his skin an unnatural color, down to his bones.

"Michael?" You felt the smoke begin to prick your eyes, this sudden revelation only adding fuel to your watering eyes. He looked at you in entire disbelief, he had used many different names, leaving this one behind, you couldn't have known.

"How? How do you know my name?" He asked hesitantly, looking you up and down, trying to see if he might recognize you from anywhere. Any hint to know how you knew his name.

"Micheal, I'm your sibling... An Afton." The way his eyes widened and tears began to spill from his eyes made your own cascade down your cheeks.

"No, no, this can't be you're not supposed to be here! You can't be here! You need to leave!" He urged as he looked around in fear, the fire was just outside the doors, illuminating the small room you were in.

"Hey! Wait! You need to get them out please! Show them the way out, please! I'm begging you!" Micheal cried out desperately, hugging you close, as he tried to protect you from the fire himself. There were too many emotions in this hug, from a ruinting hug to a comforting hug. He held you tightly, hand cradling the back of your head protectively. Guess big brother instincts always kick in.

"If you wish to get out... you need to get through the ventilation system, there will be a locked panel at the end of it, use the key in the desk to open it. Hurry, you don't have much time. I'm nearby." Henry's voice came in softly, and Micheal quickly rummage through the desk and handed you the key with shakey hands.

"You heard what he said, now go." He said through his tears, you couldn't help the sob that creeped through your throat.

"No please, Micheal I can't lose you too." He gently held your face in his hands, you could barely make him out through your watering eyes.

"Go now, I'll be okay... you were the only good thing that came out of all of this." He said with a somber smile, before leading you to a nearby vent. The fire had eaten up most of the building stability, you could hear the loud snapping and crashing throughout the building. You said your final goodbye to your brother before beginning to crawl through the tight space. It was too hot in here, the metal had heated up and the air was heavy. You were heaving as you made your way throughout the vents, you were on the verge of a coughing fit, being this high up where all the smoke was.

Your watery sight made it hard to distinguish turns, having to feel the burning metal to know where to go. Soon you were met with a vent that was locked, you could feel the cool night breeze from the outside and you fumbled with the keys and lock. You sighed desperately as you heard the lock click and fall before hastily shoving the damn thing open.

You fell down into some bushes, gasping heavily as clean air filtered through your lungs. Before you could process anything else you felt something pick you up by your arms, guiding you away from the blazing building. Henry walked you carefully until you reached a car and he sat you down inside the passenger seat. He did his best to comfort you through all of this, as you practically sobbed into his shoulder.

After a while sirens could be heard and as police arrived on the scene Henry began to talk to them. You were talked to by the police, looked at by paramedics and interviewed by a local news channel. It was obvious Henry was here only to put up a front that this was an accident and not planned. After a long while the police and emergency crew let you off by Henrys request. Now you were in your apartment looking at the interview that they did with Henry.

"This accident is an unfortunate one, everything in that building was reduced to nothing. I'm happy to say that one of our employees made it out safely and no other critical damage were sustained. Unfortunately, one employee remained stuck in that building. We have suffered a tragic loss at Fazbear Entertainment..." You watched apathetically having already been through your breakdown with Henry. You swore you told him everything yet it wouldn't be enough to calm that guilt and restlessness in your heart. He hopped that with everything gone, you'd eventually find peace and that the past could finally be put to rest.

It had been years, you just about made peace with what had happened. Yet like you always do, you always found yourself looking for things of the past. "Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex", your new job. You had worked here for a little over a year, having seen the development of animatronics. You were a security guard, you were quickly introduced to the animatronics, getting to know them. Their ai was convincing, they almost perfectly simulated being alive. This was a much better alternative than the horrible option of possession from the past.

You used to work the night shift, until she got more involved... Vanessa. She was the reason you were swapped from the night shift to the day shift. There were a handful of sketchy findings during the night shift and she had managed to pin the blame on you. Luckily you had the animatronics and fellow staff vouch for you, so instead your shift changed. Better than getting entirely fired, but your boss wanted to revoke your security acess. You had aready gotten a bad feeling about this place. The disapearances and strict security, you had managed to climb your way to the highest security access and you weren't about to let it go to waste. So instead of handing it over you made up an excuse, wether it was that you had accedienly left the card in your uniform as it was washing or having simply lost it, they seemed to have believed it, not prying anymore.

It was helpful to have it at hand, usually if you accidentally left something at work, you could always come back during the night shift to collect it. Vanessa hasn't caught you once, and the animatronics don't seem to question your access or the fact that you're there. You were grateful, until one night you had forgotten your storage keys while on your day shift. You had recently moved from your old apartment to your first house, had you been working the night shift you could easily get work out of the way while also having all day to unpacking. But seeing that this isn't how life was for you, you lost track of those keys to a rented storage unit. You had dressed up in you uniform before taking your security pass and shoving it into your pocket.

You slowly parked your car in the vacant parking lot of the Pizzaplex, god, it was so dark and eerie. The front doors had already been closed for a while, luckily there was always staff entries. You thank the heavens that they didn't confiscate your pass as the locked door unlocked with an audible click before you made your way inside the building. You could take a guess why Vanessa hasn't caught you, first off this place was huge, but you wondered if any staff actually looked over the security footage. You also had quite footsteps, years of experience from moving around your family home at night. What could you say, you needed those midnight snacks. It took a while before you had arrived at your office, sighing in relief as you aquired your keys, that was until you heard a noise approaching the office. You guessed it to be Moon, he'd always got a kick out of scaring you whenever you came in, even before the dayshift change.

"Okay okay, look I heard you from a mile away. So why don't you put your hands in the air mister?" You called out into the hallway seeing a figure... but that didn't look like moon. And correct you were, it was Roxy, but she was torn down. You were in such a state of shock as you saw her, that you almost didn't duck out of the way as she dashed at you. She sounded furious as she chased you, until you were able to baricade one of the doors. Taking in desperate breaths as you jogged away from the door, the sounds of her banging and crying muffleing with the noises of the Pizzaplex. The animatronics weren't supposed to be roaming around at all. What the hell was actually going on tonight?

This is how you'd spend the night, ducking away from the animatronics as you ran into them. They kept calling out for a kid, was there a boy stuck here? You had to get out, but more than anything, you wanted to figure out what was exactly going on. That was until you heard quick footsteps approach you, heavy ones. As you turned to look at the incoming animatronic, you gasped as Freddy came to a hault in front of you. He didn't look any better but he wasn't acting strange like the others.

"Officer! I didn't think I'd run into you tonight!"

"God! You scared me! And trust me when i say this wasn't planned at all. Anyway, can you mind explaining what the hell is going on? No ones supposed to be out of thier rooms, and whats all this I'm hearing about some kid?" You aksed as you looked up at the animatronic, hands on your hips as if you were interrogating a child.

"Officer, I'd love to tell you but... you're not working with Vanessa, are you?" He ased almost nervously before you heard what you believed was tapping in his chest. You brushed it off as something broken or any other logical explanation.

"No Freddy, I'm not. I don't like her, not since she got me booted off of the night shift, that and I'm not exactly supposed to be here either."

He seemed to be relaxed by your words before he had a sense of urgency. "Come with me to parts and service and I'll explain everything", he spoke as he already began to walk away, before starting to run.

You quickly followed after, making your way with him to the stage before descending to part's and service. As you both arrived there you looked over at him while catching your breath.

"So, why did we need to come down here for?"

"Just promise me you won't freak out..." You only blinked up at him before nodding hesitantly before his chest cavity opened, AND WAS THAT A CHILD IN THERE?! You've seen Freddy fit all kinds of cakes in there, but not a full kid. It took some coaching from Freddy for the kid to talk.

"Gregory, it's alright. You can trust this guard, I've known them for quiet some time. They'll help us!"

The kid introduced himself as Gregory, before he explained his situation and everything that's been happening throughout the night. How he was evading Vanessa and some strange white rabbit lady, that and that he's been upgrading Freddy. Oh, that explains the state of the others... and Freddy's purple hands....

You'd end up tagging along with the both of them until finally 6AM. God you were ready to just run out and get Gregory as far as you could from this place until he realized, Freddy couldn't come with. So you both stayed inside the Pizzaplex, trying to solve any other hidden mystery hidden in this place. After giving Freddy his final upgrade and much exploring you were all able to find an old elevator, with only one trip left in it. As you all descended, deeper down, with the music distorting, you couldn't help but feel that similar sense of dread building at the pit of your stomach.

You weren't sure what you'd run into while down there, but you most certainly didn't expect a wastland of inferstucture. As you and Gregory worked around trashed endos, you were finally able to get the generators up and running again, making your way over to what seemed to be a room with tables and a stage. Like a private showroom of shorts. Not only that but there was a gaping whole in the floor, that led to god knows where. Soon Gregory hopped inside of Freddy, a sight you were sure you'd never get used to, and began climbing your way down into this unknown. Freddy soon recalled that this place was familar to him, that she had brought him here, Vanessa. The more you heard of her, the more she left a horrible taste in your mouth.

The worst part was yet to come, you swore you could hear gushes of wind, but as you made your way down to the bottom, it wasn't just a broken vent. It was breathing. Large and monstrous inhales and exhales. Almost like a low rumble, on the verge of a growl. Like that thing was dormant. You weren't even sure what you were looking up at, it was nothing short of an atrocity. A mess of metal and wires, with the occasional Freddy Mask littered over its meshed body. And whatever Freddy was saying was definitely not helping. Soon the wooden planks underneath you began to tremble and crack, giving in to the additional weight as you all tumbled down into a different floor. As you got up from your rough landing, your ears ringing from the sudden noise and adrenaline, you shook yourself up and looked around... Another security office?

As you all apprached the desk, you say something moving throgh the cameras. Something getting out of a recharge station. As you took in its withered shape and remaining organs you gasped in horror at the sight before you. No, it couldn't be... He couldn't have survived. But he did, and the proof of that was his jagged movements on the cameras. William Afton had lived. You weren't wrong with your initial guess of his ever deteriorating mind, slowly slipping into madness. You could barely even recognize him as springtrap, less your father. No, this thing that stood before you wasn't your father, it was the furthest thing from him.

As you were frozen in place, just watching that thing move, Gregory made quick work of the other animatronics, shutting the doors on them or hiding from them. You noticed how Burntrap was rummaging through different rooms and different buttons were near their respective cameras. You preseed the button, and flames soon enveloped the room. You swore it was just out of curiosity the first time, but now you knew what you needed to do. You kept at it for as long as you could, that horrible creature from before slowly making its way into the room. Eventually the fires that were set off didn't go out, instead setting the Pizzaplex on fire. As Freddy and Gregory began to dash out of the Pizzaplex you couldn't help but look back one last time, seeing Burntrap reach out uselessly before getting taken away by that thing.

You could strangely still pitty him, before you turned on your heel and began to catch up to Freddy and Gregory, escaping the collapsing Pizzaplex. You had all made it out safely, albeit dirty. You managed to fit them both in your car, before speeding away from the location. The sky was slowly illuminating, signs that it was clearly morning.

"Hey... is it okay if we can stop to watch the sunrise?" Gregory asked after much of the drive being in silence. You looked over at him, after all you've been through, this was all he wanted? It was simple but endearing, you nodded before driving off to a park, it was huge, so there would be no problem bringing Freddy out woth you. Speaking of Freddy, he was beyond excited to see the world outside the Pizzaplex.

After a while of walking your little group made it to a hill with a single tree. You didn't realize how tired you were until you finally sat down on the grass. You heaved out a tried sigh, letting your hands feel the dewy grass. You looked over next to you, seeing Freddy and Gregory talking happily before they both quickly hushed as the first beams of the sun began to rise from the horizon.

It was breathtaking. It truly had been to long since you've appreciated such a small yet meaningful thing in your life. You finally allowed your mind to process what had happened, and you began to cry... had it been out of relief, happiness or grief was a mystery to you, but you felt odly at peace... maybe this could all finally be put to rest. Maybe this would be the end. You knew you'd still have to take care of Gregory and Freddy, that and look for a new job, but it all felt like it would be alright in the end.

back

#springtrap #springtrap x reader #springtrap fnaf #fnaf springtrap #fnaf x reader #fnaf fanfic #fnaf william afton #william afton x reader #william afton #springtrap x you #fnaf 3 #fnaf fandom #fnaf security breach #fnaf 3 springtrap #cinnamon-writing

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superstar-nan · 6 months

Text

Fight Tooth and Nail: Ch 1 — Day 1

Summary: Your best friend goes missing after working a shift as an overnight security guard for the upcoming horror attraction Fazbear's Fright. You masquerade as a journalist to investigate their disappearance and find yourself with more questions. Questions that only a murderous animatronic intent on killing you has answers to.

Words: 3,586

Fun stuff: Springtrap/Reader/Michael, gender neutral reader, cannon typical violence, vv slow burn and romance is more implied kinda?? I'm very aromantic and the characters have complex relationships. william and michael are very much corpses and very much gross. Uploaded from my Ao3.

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Your eyes flitted from the hastily scrawled note in your hand to the crumbling building in front of you. You knew it was supposed to look rundown to add to the scare-factor, but even from the back Fazbear’s Fright seemed more likely to receive several health code violations over screams. Maybe it was the broad daylight, or maybe it was the metal beam that collapsed in front of you right at that moment, but you couldn’t imagine the horror attraction gaining as much attention as the newspaper clipping led you to believe.

You hesitantly opened the back door, praying another metal beam wouldn’t collapse on top of you. It was unlocked, just as the man on the phone said it would be.

“Hello?” You said, before reeling back into the fresh air outside. The stench coming from inside wafted in a plume of rotten eggs and sweat. You gagged, taking in a couple gulps of fresh air, and then steeled yourself as you entered the building. The door shut with an uncharacteristic soft click behind you.

“Hello?” You called out again. You blinked a few times, trying to adjust your eyes to the dark interior.

“Over here!” A hand waved out of a room to your right with a dim, ghastly yellow-green light spilling from its doorway.

You walked into the room; an office filled with grime (possibly decorational), loose wires (hopefully decorational), and trash (definitely not decorational). A young man with a nonchalant grin swiveled on his chair to face you. He said your name and you nodded.

“Awesome,” He held out his hand in a wide, informal handshake, which you returned. His grip was loose and a bit sweaty. “I was the guy on the phone.”

“Oh,” You said as you distractedly looked around the office. There were big boxes filled with Fazbear Entertainment merchandise along with character posters plastered on the walls. “It’s nice to meet you in person.”

“For sure, for sure,” He started clicking through security footage, drawing your attention.

You noticed there were quite a bit of people throughout the building, all splattering blood stains or grimming-up corners to make the attraction just a touch more spooky. You bit your lower lip. Would any of them be willing to reveal some information to you, or would they keep you from investigating anything useful?

“Welp,” He clapped his knees and stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t I show you around? You can get the gist of all the best scares of the place for... uh, who’d you say you write for again?”

“Scary Attractions Monthly,” You said, taking out a pen and notebook. It was a fake name for... something. Maybe a magazine or blog. You didn’t put too much thought in it and apparently neither did he.

No, you weren’t here to write a glowing article on a mediocre, somewhat distasteful, and very unsanitary hazard of a horror attraction like you said you were.

You were here because of a call. A call you received at four in the morning. A call you didn’t pick up, but you wished you did.

“Right, that,” He said in a way that told you he was going to forget it again. “Well, you’re gonna love the place, we found some real legit relics!”

You just hummed as you followed him out of the room.

“The attraction opens in like a week, so everyone’s been working extra hard to make sure everything works, and nothing catches on fire.” He stopped in front of a disassembled torso of Freddy. “Uh, not that anything would, that was, uh, “off-the-record” .”

“Right.” You said, pretending to cross something out.

“Yeah, so when the place opens, people will come in at the opposite end of the building, and work their way towards where you came in; that’s the exit. We’ve got some totally vintage relics, man. Like this foxy head, super authentic.”

You squinted at it.

“Like, it’s not a crappy cosplay for sure .”

That made you think it was a crappy cosplay.

“But it’s not just these totally authentic pieces that make the place, the whole place is rigged super vintage.”

You stepped to the side as two employees rushed past you, holding a heavy box of miscellaneous mechanical parts, “What do you mean?” You asked.

“Like, the whole place is built like it’s 1987, just like from the missing kids stuff,” It felt a little insensitive to refer to that tragedy as the ‘missing kid stuff’ . “The ventilation, the electronics, even the cameras and stuff, all for that authenticity.”

You swallowed, “So there’s no security footage?”

“Nah, but we’ve got a guard on around-the-clock, even overnight, so it’s perfectly safe.” You already knew that. Your best friend was an overnight security guard.

Suddenly, a pipe burst, spewing some white, cloudy vapor rapidly at an employee who was struggling to get the pipe under control.

“And is the ventilation perfectly safe?” You asked.

“Heheh,” he started to sweat. “Basically, I mean. He’s probably fine. Here,” He turned you around to a different hallway, “Let’s go this way, you gotta see the coolest part of the attraction.”

You followed him to an area with no one present. It was an odd feeling going from a busy part of the attraction to this place of complete emptiness, and you finally found the creeping horror of the attraction. With the molding tiled floor that was once bright, the low-ambient lighting flickering on-and-off, and the decades-old child’s drawings interspersed on the walls, the place really felt haunted.

Then, the smell of rot and decay hit your nose in a crashing wave. You held your nose and gagged. It was worse than when you walked into the attraction, and then you knew why this area was so empty.

“You gotta get that pen out because you’re not gonna believe this,” He said. “We got one, a real one!” He looked back at you gagging and coughing. “Oh. Yeah, the smell is, like intense , but you get used to it quick.”

“What do you mean...?” Your sentence was lost on you as your entire focus was drawn to figure in the corner.

A very large figure in the corner. A rotten bunny animatronic that towered in the shadows.

Chills danced up your spine in your visceral fear. You were stalled by some animal instinct you didn’t know you had.

It was large and lumbering and fully intact—ruined and soiled with time. It had to have been nearly seven feet tall, even as it stood motionless in its hunch. It looked almost half a century old, and even in its decayed state you could still see the design of what it once was: a golden Bonnie suit now corrupted a dingy green by age and rot.

Your heart beat slowed when you realized it wasn’t moving. It was just an animatronic; part of the attraction. Even as you followed your guide towards it, its eyes flashed with reflected light in a way that was perfectly terrifying. This really was a great find for the attraction.

“So cool, isn’t it?” He said, knocking on the animatronic’s mildewy chest, and though logically you knew that wasn’t dangerous, you couldn’t help the drop in your gut as he touched the thing. “It’s like it was made for this place.”

“No kidding.” You said, and you meant it. Honestly, that animatronic might’ve been the scariest thing you had ever seen, let alone the scariest part of the attraction. You dared to take a few steps closer to it. You weren’t able to pull your eyes away from it, almost as if you did it would lunge at you.

Its eyes looked too human. You wanted to throw up.

“Yeah, so spooky.” He also was transfixed, but not for as long as you were. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took to find it! We found some vintage audio training cassettes with it. We’ll probably have them playing, like over the speakers while people walk through the attraction. It’ll make the place feel legit .”

The cassettes didn’t even cross your mind, “Does it still work?”

“Uh, yeah, probably.”

You were finally able to pull your eyes away from the rotted Bonnie. “Probably?”

“Well, I’ve never seen it move, and no one else has either, but nobody moves it and sometimes it’s not in the same place so probably. The cassettes mention something about the suits following kid noises, but I haven’t seen that either. And uh, we’ve got a guard checking the cameras all the time, so it's not dangerous.”

He said that so nonchalantly you were baffled, “Are you sure about that? Didn’t somebody get bitten by one of these things years ago?”

He started to sweat, “Oh ye-yeah, that’s something uh, we’re working on this week. We’re grabbing a mechanic or... There’s a week until the place opens so, you know.” He trailed.

Your face blanked. Well, it wasn’t any of your business how dangerous these things were anyway. You were only here for one reason. “Right,” Your eyes wandered back to the animatronic.

Your heart dropped. You held your breath.

Its eyes were looking at you. Eyes that were too human.

It wasn’t looking at you before, was it? You would have certainly remembered it looking at you. You swallowed as you took a step out of its sight. Its eyes didn’t follow you. You must’ve imagined it.

Turning away from the rotted Bonnie, you put your pen to your notebook, “Having overnight guards is a good safety precaution.” You said, and his shoulders visibly relaxed when you said it. “And it’s pretty authentic to the original Pizzeria.”

“Oh, for sure, for sure,” He said. “That’s what we’re trying for, authenticity and all. Plus, they’ll also be a part of the show to really get that feel of a pizzeria!”

“The place hasn’t opened yet, but do your guards run into any trouble at night?”

“Nah, or at least I don’t think so.”

His nonchalance irked you, “You don’t think so?”

“Well, nobody’s mentioned anything to me yet, so.”

“Hmm.” You tapped your pen on your notebook before setting it back down, “I heard a rumor that one of your night guards disappeared on the job, is that true?”

“What?” He started to look nervous again, though whether it was from the pressure of saying the wrong thing or the guilt of having done something wrong, you didn’t know. “Oh uh, I don’t really know anything about that, where did you hear that?”

“Somewhere online.” You said, casually.

“Well, it’s not true, somebody would’ve said something or—”

“But if there’s only one person on the night shift, how would somebody be able to say something?”

A click was heard behind you. Almost like the sound of a gear. Both you and the man you were talking to turned toward the rotted Bonnie suit. It didn’t move, or at least it didn’t look like it moved. It was still. That didn’t matter. You and the man you were with were deadly silent for a few moments.

“We should, uh, we should talk in the office, right?” He said, and it wasn’t a balm that he was anxious as well.

“Yes, that’s a good idea.”

The two of you left the area with the animatronic, and you felt the air around you lighten. It seemed he was right when he said you’d get used to that rotted smell, because you didn’t notice how much it was a relief to get away from that thing.

“Anyway,” He said as the two of you walked. “I don’t know anything about a night guard disappearing. Yeah, a night guard quit suddenly without any notice a few nights ago.” The two of you ducked as a vent dropped nearly on top of you, barely being stopped by two employees who grabbed it just in time. It didn’t slow either of your gaits, “And yeah, this is not the first time that’s happened and is eerily similar to events that happened thirty years ago. But there’s always a bad string of luck before grand openings, typical exciting attraction stuff. So...” The two of you slipped into the office as a group of employees brought in a string of large boxes, “Probably don’t mention any of the rumor stuff in the article.”

You eyed him head to toe as he sat in the office chair. He was sweating a little under your scrutiny. He wouldn’t give you anything if you antagonized him, so you smiled and he relaxed, “Of course, it’s typical. Especially for haunted attractions.”

“Heheh, yeah, ‘course,” He swallowed and sniffed. “Well, uh, what other questions can I answer?”

“Tell me a bit about the security guards' role in the show.”

He leaned back slightly in his chair, “Oh yeah well, this is where they will be, in this office. When the place opens, people will come in where I told you before, and work their towards this office, and pass them, and out the exit.”

You wondered if your faux-enthusiasm was believable enough, because it felt as stiff as the disassembled animatronic pieces, “Oh, very cool.”

“Yeah! Just like a real security guard from a pizzeria.” He said, “Or well, they are real security guards, but you get what I mean.”

“Absolutely,” You said. “Can I see the cameras? They’ve got such a neat 80s vibe to them.”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” He rolled his chair over so you could look over his shoulder. “I just click the camera here and... one sec.” He pulled an old panel with a few technical reboot options on it, before clicking one. You leaned your arms on the back of his chair as you watched the cameras fizzle from white static to a poor resolution of video footage. “There,” He said. “Pretty legit, huh?”

“Very legit.” You paid very close attention as he flitted through the different cameras, or rather what the cameras didn’t catch.

“Yeah, in trying to make the place feel more vintage we have overdone it a bit, heh heh. Some of this equipment is barely functional!” His eyes widened slightly as he held up his hands, “But still functional, of course.”

“Of course,” You said. “Well, I thought I might take some more notes on the attractions and then I can let myself out in the front?”

“All the way to the other end of the building? Sure, if you want.”

“Thanks,” You held out your hand. “It was great meeting you.”

He smiled and shook your hand, and you almost felt bad for lying to him. He was just a guy excited about horror attractions doing his job. Even if he was brushing the dangers of this place under the rug; brushing your best friend's disappearance under the rug... No, nevermind. You didn’t feel even a little bad.

“It was awesome meeting you too,” He said. “Can’t wait to read about us in...” He forgot your fake journalism blog/magazine/whatever. “A few days or whenever you get around to writing it.” What a save.

You threw him one last smile before making your way through the busy preparations. You pretended to take a few notes, gave your best impression of someone interested in an empty Chica head, and attempted to talk to a few employees. Talking to the people who were working was more fruitless than you hoped. They either were too busy to talk to you or were skirting around certain subjects like the man who’d shown you around had. You attempted to find real evidence and real clues as well, but that was just as fruitless. Fake blood and artificial claw marks fooled you every time and you had to pass it off as admiration and journalism.

No, if you wanted to know what really happened, you would have to get into that office. Look at it more closely and see if there were any traces or clues left by them. Or even if you could take a look at the cameras more closely, see if a bird’s-eye-view gave perspective. You could only hope that maybe there would be an hour between the day shift and the night shift that you could look around and do some real investigating.

First, you needed to find a good place to hide. Somewhere the cameras couldn’t see, but employees wouldn’t spot you either. From what you saw, the cameras even extended to the vents, which was insane to you. However, not all of the vents were monitored. In your mind, you imagined some big locker or box you could hide in, but there was nothing like that, so the vents would have to do.

Your stomach dropped. Hiding in the vents also meant you couldn’t be seen tampering with them, which meant you had to go to the area with the least amount of people. You rubbed your eyes. You were an adult. You shouldn’t have been so hesitant to be around what was basically a giant toy, a decoration. A nearly seven foot, moldy, possibly dangerous decoration that could crush you just by falling on you. You swallowed.

Steeling yourself, you walked toward the area with the rotted Bonnie.

There it was. Unmoved in a way that mocked your fear. Just as horrible to smell (was it really that ruined by mildew? Did someone stuff food in there? Did some poor animal die in there?), but you were getting used to it quickly. After a quick moment of choking.

You wondered briefly what it must’ve looked like on stage, alive with music and light, warm in color and a delight to children. That must’ve been such an exciting thing thirty or forty years ago. Now it wasn’t even a shell of what it once was, it was a perversion. Twisted and moldy in such a way that its wires looked like guts and its endoskeleton was dulled like bone. Its smile that must’ve been cheery at one point now looked like a permanent, malicious grin. Its eyes—ever too human for your liking—and teeth were nearly the same dingy color of its mildewy fur. You realized this Bonnie was missing his bowtie, and that made you sad for some reason.

You cursed under your breath, “What happened to you?”

You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to the rotted Bonnie. Not unlike the sickening smell that you had adjusted to, you seemed to have adapted to the initial fear the animatronic instilled in you. Suddenly in a morbid curiosity, you were wanting to poke and prod at it; to test how rusted its joints must’ve been or to try peeking for rot inside. You shook your head of the impulse.

You turned your head to look at the way you came. There wasn’t anybody passing by just yet. You looked at the camera, which didn’t seem focused but you couldn’t be sure. Lastly, you looked at the vent against the wall.

In an effort to alleviate the tension beating against your chest—caused by a fear of getting caught, a fear of not finding anything, and a fear of the rotted Bonnie themself—you threw the animatronic a wink and said, “Keep an eye out for me, will you?”

You hurried to the vent, throwing a cautious glance behind you. You knelt in front of it, fully prepared to use a piece of shrapnel you found to undo its screws. However, you found the screws had already been pulled loose, interestingly enough. You briefly wondered who could have the strength for that as you quietly shifted the vent open and slipped in, gently and silently putting the vent back.

You laid there on your stomach for a few moments as your exhilaration began to calm down. You hoped this place’s ventilation system wasn’t so “vintage” and “legit” that you’d suffocate or get some noxious gas spewed into your lungs.

As your heartbeat fell slower and slower, you cast your eyes downward. You had a long evening of waiting ahead of you. You shuffled quietly until you could get a hold of an earbud in your pocket. You took it out along with your phone, putting the earbud in your ear. You tapped on your most recent voice messages.

Maybe you’d be able to recognize something in the voice message... or maybe you just wanted to remember why you were doing all of this.

You tapped on your phone until their voice message began playing in your ear.

Silence.

Shuffling.

Heavy, muffled breathing.

More silence.

Your name in a shaken whisper.

“...Come...” Their voice was hushed so so quiet. “...Come to...”

A child’s laughter, not quite right.

“...Hurry...I-”

The sound of the phone dropping.

-Click-

Your finger hovered over the option to play the message again. Your best friend was working at Fazbear’s Frights the night you got that message. They were supposed to meet you the morning after. They didn’t. After giving the message to the police, Fazbear Entertainment reported that your best friend had clocked-out at 6AM that morning and that there was no incident during their shift. You didn’t buy it. Whether there was some big corporate conspiracy, or whether something happened and Fazbear Entertainment just didn’t want to delay the attraction’s opening, you didn’t know. But a body hadn’t been found and that was something . Something to hold on to.

You would get to the bottom of it.

You rested your head on your arm as you played the message again.

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toringo · 10 months

Note

that sounds like a cool au!! could we get a basic rundown of it to start?

Alright, so!

The story takes place in the early 2000s. The basic story is that Michael finds his old man in the Fazbear's Fright and tries to understand what happened to him and make some connection, which is made difficult by the fact that William can only speak through the prerecorded voice lines from Spring Bonnie's voice box and has only the scraps of his old memories mixed up with delusions that make him think he IS Spring Bonnie. Henry is in deep distress and conflicted about what to do, Elizabeth wants nothing to do with any of that crap but is forced to deal with it, Charlie wanders around and Mike tries to figure out how to clean this 2m tall rotting rabbit. For reference, some character dscp.:

Michael Afton (born 1969)

After the mysterious disappearance of his father, Michael Afton tries to make sense of everything while also taking care of his sister. His only clue as to what might have happened to him is the decrepit pizzeria he'd owned and the long-cold murder case from the 80's. Desperate for answers and money (as his only source of income is his uncle), he gets hired at the new Horror Attraction that takes inspiration from the rumors surrounding his father's business.

William Afton (born 1942)

Recently discovered in an abandoned pizzeria, Spring Bonnie - now renamed Springtrap - was added to the cast of the newest attraction. Confused and alone, he roams the dark corridors, looking for anything familiar, until he stumbles upon the new security guard, who seems to wake up some old memories. Unable to distinguish reality from his delusions, he attacks the guard thinking it to be himself.

Elizabeth Afton (born 1973)

Injured and traumatized by her father's creation, Elizabeth grows cold and distant. Her brother's death and her accident make her despise anything related to Freddy's or the animatronics. Even under the care of her obsessive brother and uncle, she tries to lead a completely normal life free of anything dangerous or paranormal. She wants nothing more than to distance herself from her father's legacy.

Henry Emily (born 1941)

He's left with nothing. His issues started long before the murders or deathly accidents. After losing his daughter to the man he considered closest to him, from a kind if a bit awkward man he turned into a cold shadow of what he used to be. The only thing that keeps him alive is spite and the overwhelming need to find and beat the crap out of William.

Charlotte Emily (born 1971)

A lost soul trying to figure out how to help the others and the real reason for the whole massacre. She and the other spirits cannot rest until William is completely gone, but some force keeps him there no matter what she does. Her compassion and ties to William make it easier to see the man beyond the mosnter, which in turn makes it harder for her to make the final decision.

Mentioned characters (in order of importance):

Mrs. Afton Evan Afton/CC Cassidy The Ghost Children Michael's friends Henry's family William's parents Hope it's clear enough! I'm excited to talk about it but I'm tragic at explaining stuff.

#THANKING MY PARTNER FOR HELP WITH WRITING IT!!!! love u <3 #ask me anything #ask #fnaf au #family reunion fnaf au #five nights at freddy's #fnaf

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revvnant · 11 months

Note

❝ for the record … i’m not sorry . ❞ skrunkly springtrap

He stares fixedly at Springtrap, expression unreadable. His hand rests on a beat-up arcade cabinet, too hot to touch for anyone with functioning nerves. He's standing between Springtrap and the exit. The fire has stripped him of all his makeup; what remains is seared into his skin, burnt black and disgusting, but barely distinguishable amongst the purple rotting mess that is his face. What William had done to him, one way or another. That's not what this is about, though. The degree to which his own death factors into his need for revenge varies from day to day -- he's angry, certainly, and on a logical level, he understands that William was responsible. After all, if he hadn't built the robot that killed Michael's sister, it would never have happened. If he hadn't built the ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜, it would never have happened. If he had never sent Mike down there, ignoring all the warning signs and Michael's own reports of what he saw, it would never have happened. And yet. And yet. There was so much more at play there, so much insanity, that simply placing blame on William really doesn't do much for him.

It's the children. It's always been the children. There, in his mind, the responsibility is about fifty-fifty -- William's malice, Mike's inaction. Is it realistic? No, of course not; but for someone with so fractured a mind, on top of a base proclivity for misattributing culpability ( his whole life, his whole life in that home ), it's impossible not to believe it. William's punishment will be death -- real death, final death, hopefully; Mike's punishment will be administering that death. For them. Because they can't. Because they deserve some sort of closure, even if it means he'll be robbed of just that, forever.

"--then I'm not sorry, either." A lie. He yanks with all his strength, knocking the cabinet onto its side, cutting Springtrap off from any hope of escape.

#trapton #v3. fazbear frights: the horror attraction!

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butchdykekondraki · 5 months

Text

never not thinking about the idea of michael working at fazbears frights btw. imagine you kill your brother, so your dad starts killing children, and then like 50 years later it gets turned into a shitty horror attraction based off of the ''urban legend'' of a bunch of kids dying there. and then you find out your dad is not only dead but hes also alive and in a fucking fursuit you havent seen for the better part of 50 years. and you just have to deal with that. AND now youre experiencing hallucinations.

#[ren]

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oftenwantedafton · 3 months

Text

What Remains - Springtrap/William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 2

Rating - Explicit

Word count - 2k

CW - mild body horror, no explicit content

Also available on AO3

Progress has been made on Fazbear Fright: The Horror Attraction.

You descend the ladder and stand back to inspect the animatronic mural you’re creating, then move forward, climbing the rungs again to add a few more brushstrokes to the brim of bear’s top hat before you’re satisfied with the area you’ve completed on the cinderblock wall. It’s so much easier working with proper lighting. Decreased clutter as crates and boxes are unpacked have made the environment less hazardous. The decorated spaces are beginning to take shape, the vision steadily coming into focus. Originally the dining room portion was intended to solely be a visual recreation, but the lure of potential further profits has driven the development of an actual functioning restaurant, albeit much smaller and more basic than the original it draws inspiration from. The idea of a simple narrated, guided walking tour has evolved into construction of an actual ride on a controlled track throughout the building. It was almost becoming like a miniature indoor amusement park now, the scale and scope ever broadening.

Springtrap is nearby, flipping through the sketchbook you’re working from, glancing over the ideas that you create before coming to the repurposed warehouse. You can’t help but notice there is a distinct odor emanating from him now. Before it had been the fragrance of must; mildly unpleasant, but tolerable. Kind of like a dusty attic or old basement. Now it is evolving into something much more sinister. Fetid. You find yourself backing away whenever the yellow rabbit gets too close.

“There was no such mural in the original restaurant,” he comments, head cocked thoughtfully to one side as he regards your work.

“I know. I just thought it was a nice nod towards the stained glass versions of the mascots that were featured in the dining room. It’s a shame they were destroyed.”

“Quite. I notice you’ve also taken certain liberties with the designs as well.” His voice has changed significantly since you’d first met, the last vestiges of rusted disuse vanishing, becoming smoother, almost melodic.

“They wanted something more overtly horror themed. The razor teeth and dripping blood seemed the way to go.”

“A bit overdone, I think.”

You flush. You can feel the disapproval wafting from the rabbit encased figure. “It’s what the owner wanted,” you say defensively.

“The owner. Yes. I’m eager to meet this individual who saw fit to steal another man’s lifework.” He continues flipping through the book. Amazing how dexteritous the steel digits are. Pages turned without tearing or bending, an odd sort of delicate, respectful care in them. He pauses when he sees the image of a man’s face. Clearly out of place amidst all of the other drawings. “And what about this?”

“Oh. That’s the owner. The original one, I mean. William Afton.”

“I’m aware of who it is. I’m curious as to what inspired you to draw him?” There’s something buried in that query. You can’t define it, precisely, but the suited figure sounds…bemused? You’re not really sure.

“I don’t know. I just thought his face was interesting.” It was true. Something in the structure of the sharp lines of his facial features intrigues you: the high cheekbones, firm jawline and aquiline nose contrasting so starkly with soft looking, full lips. Piercing eyes that demanded attention immediately. So stern and proud looking in every picture. The broad spread of his shoulders. Spine ramrod straight. Perfect posture. Overall, he exuded a kind of intimidating presence, odd for someone that operated a children’s party themed restaurant.

You actually found the man himself intriguing as well. Not that there was much information available. So few photographs. Sparse quotations and blurbs here and there in the media. A greater focus on him during the latter years when the pizzeria’s popularity was at its peak, coinciding with the time period that the children had started going missing. The obvious blame and suspicion laced in every journalist’s article, the bias clear. Judgment passed. Condemned and found guilty on a moral level even though legally he’d never been convicted of any crime. Just that lingering idea that it was highly suspicious that these kids all went missing when they were in the vicinity of his establishment. How could he not know what had happened? If he was responsible, what motive did he have? What happened to the children? Why was there no evidence, no bodies ever discovered? Where was he now?

“So you did know him. I mean, you worked together, obviously. Did you know him well?” It’s a question you’ve been meaning to ask. The strange creature had taken his time before stating what his job title had been. Security guard. He certainly knew a lot of details. More than just casual knowledge that the average employee would have, you think. Pressing for insights about the missing children and the subsequent closure of the restaurant is always met with an abrupt end to your discourse. You’ve stopped inquiring.

The glowing eyes meet yours. A little shiver runs through you. You try to focus your gaze elsewhere. The decaying suit’s tattered fur. Worn buttons. Frayed bow. No work has been done on it at all. Maybe because it already looked perfect for a horror themed setting in its current state. You wonder how he would react to someone attempting to tinker with the mechanics of the suit. You think about the accident that had occurred when the mascot had been retrieved from its strange placement inside a vent. A man had almost died. Had it really been an accident?

“You could say that, yes.” Another cryptic answer issued. He’s definitely hiding something.

“Did he ever talk about what happened?”

“No.” He closes the sketchbook. You get the feeling it’s a metaphor for the conversation ending. A touchy subject for some reason. You decide you’ll drop it for now, resuming you work. Time to give the lead star some more attention. Hesitating over paint colors before you decide on blending several to create a brighter shade of red. Very aware of how closely Springtrap is supervising you. It’s difficult keeping your hand steady.

“You’ll recall you offered to get me whatever I wanted? In exchange for your continued existence in this mortal plane, as it were?”

You set your brush down, a chill going down your spine. It’s the first time he’s mentioned that ill concealed threat since he’d first issued it. “Yes. I mean, within reason. I can’t, like, rob a bank and get you a million dollars.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. I don’t require financial assistance in any case. This is something much different. Your participation in an experiment, of sorts.”

“An experiment?” This sounded ominous. You’re already feeling a sense of dread building for whatever plan he’s teasing the outlines of.

“Yes. I’m sure you’ve noticed certain…changes in my condition.”

“Mmm-hmm.” You lift the paint brush once again and attempt a few strokes of crimson to highlight the bear’s rosy cheeks. Struggling. Surely he can see past this facade of calmness.

“I have a theory that it might be related to what happened that day when you reached inside.”

You swallow past a lump forming in your throat. “That was an accident.”

“Oh, most assuredly. A fortunate one, I think. The only way to be certain of its efficacy is to replicate it.”

“You want me to put my hand inside you again?” You don’t know if you can force yourself to. Especially now that things seem so much…wetter inside. Fleshy. Like caressing a rotting corpse. That’s what he is, isn’t he? The bits you can see. A man that should be dead, somehow alive. You wonder sometimes if you’ve lost your mind. If it isn’t all a hallucination. A nightmare. But it’s all so vivid. So real.

“You’d only have to do it briefly. Just like before.” As if that made the prospect any more appealing.

You shiver again. “I don’t…I don’t know if I can. If I can make myself.”

“Is it really such a hardship?”

“It feels…strange.”

“I agree.”

“Unpleasant. Like…it’s not natural touching the inside of a living thing. Forbidden. It’s warm and wet…”

“Yes, it is.” There’s something almost fond in his tone. As if he’s reminiscing. Savoring a memory. The rabbit’s head drops forward sharply. “We had a deal. It’s not open for debate. You will do this.” He advances towards you. There’s nowhere to go. A wall of wet paint at your back. Could you outrun him? You dare not risk it.

Why did you have to be the one to do this? Why couldn’t he have chosen someone else to torment? Just your dumb luck that you worked evenings, when there was no one else around. Revealing himself to you and you alone. Your fates intertwining. Keeping his secret in exchange for you keeping your life.

Just get it over with already. Teeth clenched. You rub sweaty palms on your coveralls. “Where am I touching?”

“Wherever you prefer.”

You suppose the previous place was as good a spot as any. That gaping cavity in the chest portion of the costume. Fingers outstretched. You’re shaking. Should you close your eyes? Was it worse to see it? You preferred watching when you got shots at the doctor’s office. Seeing the needle pierce the skin. At least you could observe what was happening, the precise moment the breach was made. Eyes open, then. You suck in a deep breath and thrust your hand across the remaining distance.

You’re reminded of a Halloween party you’d attended as a child. There had been a table of mystery food items that were meant to represent horror themed substances. A plate of cold congealed spaghetti for brains. Slimy gelatin serving as monster guts. Pudding for zombie vomit. Peeled grapes for eyeballs. Creepy and fun in your youth.

This sensation now, anything but. Your fingers sink into heat, into slime. A distressing firmness palpated further in. An organ? That strange purple light slithering over you again. Coiling and uncoiling. Serpentine. Running over your fingertips as if they were the bars of a prison. Seeking a way to escape.

You can’t tolerate it. You attempt to jerk your hand free, but Springtrap has captured your wrist. There’s no escaping that steel manacle. How long have you been touching him? Surely longer than the first time now. This close, you can see inside the headpiece through the gap in the animatronic’s teeth. Patches of skin. Ligaments and tendons and muscle and bone. Raw, oozing tissue. Those horrible teeth, still so starkly white, so clean compared to the rest of the massacred flesh within.

You’re getting lightheaded. Drowsy. As if your energy is being sapped. Is that what he’s doing? Stealing your lifeforce and making it his own? Reanimation. His insides writhe against you. Restless. Impatient. Eager to find a point of egress.

And then you’re shoved, so hard you stumble and end up in a collapsed heap on the floor. Panting. Diaphoretic. But alive. You’ve been spared again.

“So that’s it.” The rabbit figure’s voice low. Not addressing you. Musing aloud. Attention focused elsewhere. “When it opens, when there are others present…an endless supply…”

You struggle to regain your footing. “What?”

“Hmm? Oh. Nothing you need concern yourself with. You’ve been most helpful. You can return to your work now.” So casually dismissive. As if you hadn’t just had your hand buried inside his body. Doing…whatever that had been.

You look down at the extremity that had been plunged inside of the mascot. Nothing visible. Not even a smudge of dirt from the soiled costume this time around. But you can feel…something. You drag your hand against your clothing, trying to wipe the unpleasant feeling away.

It doesn’t help. You can still feel it. Beneath the layers. Marked. Tarnished. Tainted. Deep inside.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #springtrap x you #springtrap x reader

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scrypticmetal · 7 days

Text

Rebuilt

Chapter 1

Synopsis: You are the current owner of Fazbear Entertainment and founder of Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex. After finally striking gold and basking in your success, a new location, Fredbear’s Frights, pops up. As more rumors spread of your affiliation with the sorry excuse for a horror attraction, you set off to sabotage the buisness before it can even open its doors.

(Warning: Alternate Universe, the timeline is ALL OVER THE PLACE.)

Reader is a 43 year old trans man but the gender is left relatively open for the most part

Also posted on ao3!:

You jammed the crowbar into the window, cramming it open. The window creaked in defiance, giving you a damn hard time. You had to kick the thing open. Finally, you opened it enough to squeeze yourself into the building.

This stupid horror attraction has done nothing but cause you trouble since it opened. You promised the public since day one you weren’t here to make fun of the lives lost and this fucker was screwing it up for you COMPLETELY. News reporters somehow mistaking this as one of your projects even though this place wasn’t even affiliated with Fazbear Entertainment!

TWO MONTHS AGO

You sat at your long desk, cluttered with notepads and sticky notes reminding you of everything that’s due. You procrastinated paying most of the buisness expenses and now you were paying the price… Literally and figuratively. All the tiny numbers on the computer screen were practically making you go crosseyed.

A knock at the door disturbs you from your work. One more minor inconvenience and you’re going to go ballistic, you groan internally.

“Come in!” you yell.

In steps Brandon. He’s a college student who’s been interning down at the workshop, watching the work that gets done on the animatronics. However, he doesn’t do any of the real repairs. All maintenance employees go through very strict training before being allowed to handle the animatronics.

You wheel your desk chair away from the monitor, “Brandon, what a surprise! What’s up?”

“I don’t mean to bother you Mr. Bossman, but I’ve got a wicked idea. What you got goin on here is great, but the people itch for more! I think we can make a totally wicked haunted house type thing. It’ll have all the old relics and-”

“No.” You cut him off before he keeps going.

“Whaatt? I thought you were all about innovation and new ideas man?”

“Fazbear Entertainment™️ is not going to capitalize on the death of others.”

“That’s not- that’s not what I’m trying to do man” he holds his hands up in protest.

You cross your arms on the table, rolling your eyes. “It’s not what you MEANT to do, but that is what you’re doing. Treating REAL deaths like a cheap horror thrill.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth, man!”

“I’m not going to entertain this conversation any longer, Brandon. Get back to work.” You sigh, sliding your chair back behind the monitor.

“I’m not going back to work because-” You hear a click noise and Brandon’s name tag smacks onto the middle of your keyboard. “I QUIT!!”

You look up at Brandon unamused. Is this supposed to be a threat? As if you’ll actually care that his mediocre ass is headed elsewhere. You had engineering students from just about every state begging for a position at the pizzaplex.

Brandon goes to storm out but then it hits you. You stand up out of your chair, peeking over the monitor, “WAIT!”

Brandon crosses his arms and stops, turning around with a smug look.

“If you use Fazbear Entertainment’s name for anything related to that attraction, I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth.” You glare at him.

Brandon’s face falls and he leaves without another word. The door clicks shut behind him and you sink back into your chair.

“He’s going to get a rude awakening” you laugh quietly to yourself.

From the day you got your hands on this company, everyone was trying to paint you out to be the bad guy. You saw the vision for what Fazbear’s could be! You had nothing to do with murder! But you were only let off the hook for one reason only: you yourself were a victim. You were able to get the news on your side as someone who could understand where the people were coming from. But Brandon doesn’t have any honorable ties to vouch for his cause. They’ll cancel his ass before he can even open for business. Maybe you’ll have to keep your eyes peeled on Twitter for news about this.

CURRENT TIME

"It felt depraved; busting into this sad excuse for a haunted house. You slipped through he window, dropping to the floor with a hard thud.

Groaning, you push yourself up off the dusty ground.

"I'm getting too old for this shit."

You hear your own whining bounce and reverberate off the dusty, cold concrete lining the inside of the complex.

You try to dust off the grime from your face but it sticks to your sweat. You get back up on your feet and wander around. This place is so gross. The first thing you notice about this place is the smell. It’s wet and muggy and smells like pure rot. Everything has this weird greenwash. Sure, the vibes are creepy, but what’s scarier is how much of a health violation this place is. “Aaandd that’s mold” you shine your flashlight at the wall. Black vines of mold reach from the floor up to the ceiling.

You put the flashlight in your back pocket and fish out the latex gloves you brought with you. You are NOT touching anything in here with your bare hands.

Wandering from room to room, you can’t help but stop to check out every artifact Brandon had managed to scrounge up. He had some legit stuff buried among a sea of fakes. You were honestly surprised at the dedication to find this stuff. (And the balls. You tried you very best to stay FAR away from the previous locations)

Something shifts behind you and you whip around to see what the noise was from. You’re greeted with an empty hallway. “Tch, this place probably has rats too.” You mumble, turning back around.

A foxy mask at the opposite end of the hallway stops you in your tracks. You walk up, taking the mask off the light fixture and examining the inside of the head. Yeah, damn it’s official too. “Long time no see bud” you chuckle, twisting the mask to face you.

“I’d love to stay and chat but I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now, Captain.”

You wobble on your tippy toes trying to put the foxy head back on the light.

You continue wandering around, the place is pretty lack luster. Actually this place is really boring; the scare factor wore off pretty quickly. Maybe you have nothing to worry about. If Twitter doesn’t get this place shut down, the health department will surely get his ass.

A long ear-piercing clang of metal scraping metal reverberates down the hall. You nearly hurt your neck from how quickly you turn around. A hunched over rabbit animatronic grabs onto the wall, head hung low. Its neck cranes up with a loud creak. He looks like a mangled Bonnie…of sorts? Its shoulder cocks sideways unnaturally as it shifts its weight on the hand grasping at the wall. Before you can react, it dashes towards you at a terrifying speed. You screech, attempting to run from the beast.

His hand yanks you by your arm, crashing you into his metal frame. Everything goes in a blur as you’re whipped around to face him and slammed against the wall. His rough jagged hands contract around your neck, lifting you off the ground. You flail hour legs, trying to kick at his shoulders.

“Wait- WAIT” you plead. You want to say more but you can’t choke another word out.

To your surprise his hands relented their iron grip, but stayed firmly around your neck. He’s cognizant! Maybe you can reason with this thing!

Your cough and wheeze, trying to catch your breath. His putrid stench was overwhelming your senses, suffocating every jagged breath you take. “I can get you out of here” you say in between coughs. God… you can taste the coppery rot in your mouth. Your shoulders shake as you fight back from dry heaving.

He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you.

“It’s cruel keeping you here like this. They’re treating you like an animal in a zoo! I can get you away from this trashheap!” He stares at you blankly. No response. Think of something else! “Better yet, I can fix this” you thud your knuckle against his tattered arm.

“New suit, new life, sounds like a steal to me” you feel like you’re in the investment room again, bumbling like an idiot to try to sell your idea.

His left hand lets go of your neck, clanking his knuckles against his torso, “There’s no fixing this” his gravely voice seethes.

“Oh god no!” you laugh nervously. “It’ll be a new suit entirely. New endo, new casing, it’ll have all the bells and whistles you could possibly desire!” Of course, everything comes with a catch, “But you have to promise not to kill me” you claw your nails against the hand still squeezing against your neck. It ain’t much of a catch; he’s getting all the benefits here!What more could he want?!!

His hand still stays firmly planted, scraping against your skin, “Who the fuck are you supposed to be exactly?”

Tough crowd…

“(Y/n) (L/n), Fazbear Entertainment’s current owner and overseeing repairman for the California branch” you slide your hand into your back pocket, slipping your buisness card out of your wallet. You wave the colorful card in front of him. He snatches the paper with his free hand, examining it closely with squinted eyes. You watch the lights of his eyes glide from side to side.

He looks back at you quizzically. “You? You’re the owner?” His face is unreadable but you could hear him holding back laughter.

“Yes” the corner of your mouth twitches in annoyance.

A loud gargled wheeze emits from him, making you jump. He chokes out a booming laugh, losing his composure making his hand slide you down the wall, finally letting you plant your feet back on the ground.

He covers his mouth with his hand, still choking out short laughs. He looks at you again and booms with laughter again. It’s a deep throaty laugh that rattles his shoulders. You sit there watching him in irritation.

“Ok, ok,” he wheezes through stifled laughs, attempting to… catch his breath?… he straightens back up, meeting your eyes again.

“If you’re the owner…” he stops and thinks, “Then why am I here?” He gestures at the building. His hand closes in on your neck again.

“Fredbear’s Frights isn’t affiliated with Fazbear entertainment!” You speak in a panic, trying to reason with him again before he chokes you out again.

“I have nothing to do with this place. This place is barely legal to begin with! He got this place through stupid fucking loopholes in copyright laws!” you blabber.

“If you’re not affiliated, then why are you here?”

Christ, he’s is just like everyone else: painting you out to be the bad guy. HE’S the bad guy here!! He’s fucking psycho!!!!

“Everyone’s trying to blame me for this stupid sorry fucking excuse of a haunted house! Copy-write laws be damned, I need this place GONE.” you wrangle against his grip like a fish out of water. Your patience is running thin. Can’t he just take your offer?!

“If you’re lying to me. Know that I will find you.” He flicks your buisness card in your face before releasing his grip on your neck. Your knees buckle under the sudden weight. Rubbing your sore neck, you take in a deep breath, savoring the feeling of being able to breathe normally again.

You straighten out your button-up shirt,

“Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?”

He hums and walks toward the direction he crawled out of earlier. You follow carefully behind him.

“I never got a name for you.” You speed up, getting in front of him, walking backwards as you keep talking. “I can’t say I recognize this suit’s model. It looks antique.”

he rolls his eyes, putting on a mocking tone, “Shouldn’t you already know. Since you’re the owner and all”

“Well you’re obviously not Bonnie. He’s purple. And you’re not springbonnie. He’s yellow. Not really sure what other bunny animatronics there are to compare you to.”

“Firstly, Bonnie is not purple. He’s blue.” He corrects. You go to open your mouth but puts his index over your mouth to shush you. Ew ew ewww, his finger touched your tongue. The fur was crusty but damp at the same time.

“But you were almost there. Springbonnie would be correct.” He huffs.

“See, I know what I’m talking abou-“ you trip over stray boxes in the hallway, falling flat on your back with your arms sprawled out.

The animatronic steps into your view. His ear flops as he looks down to face you. That permanent jagged smile on his maw suddenly feels so smug. “Yeah, you seem to know exaaactly what you’re doing” he mocks.

You have to fight yourself from telling him to fuck off. You’re quick to get back up on your feet. All this falling and being thrown around is going to kill you tomorrow…

Finally, you reach the storage room. It’s a bit of a stuffy room. Most of the space is taken up by the metal table in the middle. And on the top left, there’s a squatty window just wide enough that you could squeeze through.

“So,” you sit down on the stool by the table, “Springbonnie —can I call you Springs?”

“Springtrap” he sits down across from you.

“What?”

“I go by springtrap”

“……..caaan I call you Springs?”

“No.” he deadpans.

“Okay, Springtrap. So, I’d like to lay a couple ground rules down first before we begin. I’d like to remind you of our deal that while you get a new body and a life outside of here, you cannot kill me or hurt me in any way.“

“I know”

“Just confirming” you shrug. Better safe than sorry, especially when it’s your own life on the line here.

“So we have a standard endoskeleton model that-”

Springtrap waves his hand to get your attention, “let me stop you there. This isn’t going to be any standard procedure.” He circles his hand around his chest.

“In case you haven’t noticed, hotshot, I’m not a robot. My corpse is part OF the suit.” He continues to talk to you like you’re stupid.

“Well, you sure as hell smell like a dead body, so I already figured.” You grimace.

“Actually, I would like to see what I’m working with, if you don’t mind?”

“Take me out to dinner before you ask to poke around my insides, freak.” He jests.

You bite back a laugh. He’s pissed you off way too many times for you to laugh at his joke.

He’s still chuckling to himself when you get to his side of the table. “Can I?” You point your flashlight down at his chest cavity.

Springtrap hesitantly nods. You flash the light inside the large gash in his chest.

It doesn’t help that your vision here is limited, but you can barely tell where his corpse stops and the endoskeleton begins. You knew the basics about the springlocks but you’d never actually encountered on of these suits in person before. This was total foreign territory to you. In a morbid way, you were intrigued. How fascinating that his body was still somewhat in tact. His chest still rises and falls taking ragged breaths. He breathes.

Your brain starts to pile with questions. How does he function? What all is still in tact? His intestines billow around his hips, hanging loosely. Can he eat? You can’t help but squish one of the intestines lightly. Suddenly, Springtrap grabs at your wrist, yanking it as far up as he can without popping your shoulder out of place. “Did I say you could touch me?” He seethes in your face; his nasty breath clouding up in your nostrils.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to overstep” you yelp.

He drops your wrist. Your body is really taking a beating today huh? It’ll be a miracle if you aren’t bedbound tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow…

“I do have to inform you that unfortunately my time today is limited. I have work tomorrow and it’s quite a drive from here to the Pizzaplex. I hate to cut things so short but I do have a couple more questions before I leave!”

“Pizzaplex?”

“I can explain that tomorrow.” You wave him off. “But, I do need to know what exactly you’re looking for in a remodel. As I was saying before, we have a standard endoskeleton that can fit a variety of body types. You can choose whichever casing you like best. The color choice is of course up to you, and you can even change your animal if you wanna really switch things up!”

“I’ll stick with the yellow rabbit.”

“Suit yourself” you shrug.

“What do you mean by different body types? Do you have examples?” He crosses his legs and leans in closer.

You take out your phone, scrolling through your gallery for a good picture of the fazgang. Finally, you land on a picture from not too long ago. It was one of the work parties held for your assistant repair overseer, Ryan. He’d worked for the company back in the 80s but retired back in early June. You and Ryan are posed in front of the main four. Freddy is hugging both you and Ryan, Monty is throwing up the rock and roll hands with his tongue out, Roxy was slaying, and chica was being her bubbly self.

You show him the phone, watching his reaction. He freezes for a minute but then takes the phone, putting it super close to his face.

“Did you make them?” He asks bewildered.

“Yeah- well. I’ve had some help here and there but yeah, the designs are mine. Pretty cool right?” You give a smile. A genuine smile this time. They were your proudest work.

“where’s the fox?” He quizzes.

“Long story.”

“Where’s Bonnie?”

You cringe, “Even longer story”

“I’m not seeing anything I want personally. Do you have anything a little less…” he motions a very exaggerated version of the glamrock’s dorito shape.

“You’re asking for something custom?”

“Yes.”

You sigh, “you drive a very hard bargain, you know that?”

“I know what I want.” He shrugs.

“What is this thing anyways?” He waves your phone that he still held in his hand.

“That would be my phone.”

“THIS? This is a phone?? You can take pictures on this?”

“It can do a lot more than that.” You laugh.

His absence of technical knowledge was somewhat refreshing actually. Usually, you’re forced into rooms with insufferable tech bros most of the time.

“When did they start making these? What….” He goes quiet for a moment, “What year is it exactly?” He looks at you with genuine concern.

You raise your eyebrows. He’s really never seen anything remotely close to this, huh? You hold your hand out, gesture for him to hand your phone back. He plops it back into your palm. Glancing at the time, 5:25. It’s getting way too late…

“What year do you think it is?”

Springtrap sits, thinking, “I’d guess maybe… 1999?”

“Ohhh you’ve got a lot to catch up on… it’s 2024”

Springtrap’s eyes go wide and his jaw goes slack, revealing what’s left of his skull behind the mask. This is the first time you’ve seen him express an emotion beyond anger and entitlement.

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions. Think of all you wanna ask and I’ll have all your answers tomorrow. I do apologize but it really is getting late.” You almost feel bad for leaving him to sit in shell shock like this. Almost…. Actually, he deserves it after how he’s treated you all night.

Before leaving the room, you realize you never asked what time would be best to meet again, “How does 11:00 pm sound for tomorrow?”

“I can only free roam from 12 am to 6 am” he mumbles.

“Damn, that sucks. 12 it is then!” You turn around and leave, waving without looking back at him.

12 works better for you, one less hour you have to spend looking at his ugly mug.

#fnaf #william afton #springtrap x reader #william afton x reader #alternate timeline #x reader #trans reader #male reader #fanfic #multi chap fic

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