Helping hand
Steve Raglan/William Afton x reader
about: you're new to town, and looking for a job, you end up with help from a man named Steve Raglan, who ends up being more charming than you thought.
tw: nothing for this chapter
authors note: i plan on making about 9 parts for this, i hope people enjoy this! part 2 should be up soon. also there's no use of y/n in this
You find yourself before a very disinterested older man.
Steve Raglan was the name written on the name placard on his desk.
He hummed softly, sifting through papers. "So, why here?"
"What do you mean?" You ask.
He lays the papers down neat on his desk, and claspes his hands together, resting his chin atop them. "Why this town? Why Minnesota?" He asks, looking curious.
"Oh, um. My mother passed when we lived out of state, so I moved here to get away from the area. Fresh start. I don't know anything about Minnesota, and figured somewhere close but not too close to the cities would be nice."
He hums again, seemingly satisfied. "Well, lucky for you, I know just the job. Given your track record of jobs and a very open and pleasant attitude, there's a store close to here that needs a front secretary."
"Oh! Perfect." You smile.
He matches your smile, and you notice his eyes crinkle at the corners, it making his duller eyes shine a little.
"Perfect? Yeah, that's how I'd describe this, too. Want coffee?"
"What kind?"
He stands and walks behind you, "Well, I got black coffee, but I have sugar and cream."
You pause, then decide what the hell, "Sure, I'll have a cup."
"Fantastic." Steve says.
A minute later, you have a warm cup in your hands, "So, what do I need to do to apply for the job?"
Steve shuffles through some papers, "Well, I'll fill out the paperwork, and you tell me your answers, alright? Then we can send you on your way."
You nod, taking a sip of coffee.
Steve asks you typical questions for an application, and you answer each with ease. Only pausing to struggle to remember phone numbers for reference.
He asks about an emergency contact, and you frown, "Why would I need that for an application?"
"Some places want one. In case anything happens during an interview, they're able to get a hold of someone."
You lean back, sighing and nervously push your hair back, "Well, I don't have anyone. Only people I know are states away."
Steve pauses, then jots something down on the paper, "For now, we can list myself as your emergency contact."
"Do you do this for everyone?"
"Not usually, normally I'd put down the secretary, but I can make an exception for someone like you."
"Someone like me?"
"Y'know, new to town and a very positively polite person. I can't not want to help out if I'm able."
You blush a little and try to cover it with your coffee.
All too soon, your application is finished, and your coffee has been long gone.
Steve smiles and slips the papers into a folder with your name on it. "Well, it was very pleasant to chat with you today."
"Likewise." You say, smiling back.
"Is there a number I'm able to reach you at? In case this place has any questions?"
You nod, jot down the number for your tiny brick of a mobile, and pass the sticky note to him. "Here, it's my personal cellphone."
Steve's smile widens, and you wonder if he was totally honest about his intentions with wanting your number.
"It was pleasant to meet you.." He pauses before going to look at your file.
You laugh softly and repeat your name to him as you stand up.
He repeats your name softly to himself, almost as if he were committing it to memory, then smiles softly, "Right, well have a good day, I'll contact you in the future with any updates."
You smile back, "Thank you, Mr. Raglan."
"Steve," He corrects, "Just call me Steve."
"Alright then, Steve. I'll look forward to your call."
He waves a little, and you exit his office, door clicking softly behind him. You stand there for a moment, feeling slightly ridiculous by how charming he was.
Then, you walk away, realizing there's still other people here waiting to meet with him, and you still need to get home.
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Adam in the bathroom.
about: Adam stuck in the bathroom, maybe he has a different ending.
triggers: saw typical mentions of violence and bodies
a/n: i might write another part for this if there's interest in it :) i love saw so much id be happy to write more
He thought the silence was the worst part of this.
Adam can handle the dark, he's lived long enough with all the lights out or in a dimly lit room, that he was used enough to it.
But, the silence was threatening to drive him insane.
Then the ringing started.
The first ring got a startled sound from him, the chain clattering in his scared jump. He quickly realized what it was.
The screen lights up, showing a call, and Adam blinks a few times, adjusting to the new light.
It's too far from him. Hell, it was too far for Lawrence, and he cut his foot off to get to it, and he was closer than Adam is now.
Not that Adam was that desperate... yet.
He did still have a sizeable amount of the saw left, although... he's not entirely sure where it is and he's not entirely sure he could stomach sawing his foot off like Lawerence could.
It's a softer jingle than he realized earlier, though he supposes he wasn't really paying attention to how it sounded. Moreso that it was sounding at all, and Lawerence answered it quickly anyway.
He huffs, leaning against the wall, better it soft than chirpy and grating.
He might've used that saw piece to kill himself to escape an annoying ringtune.
It rings until it stops, and the phone screen goes dark.
Adam sighs, fully back in the dark. He prods Zep's side with his foot, "Just you and me now... again."
He frowns, "For a corpse you're pretty fucking annoying, you know that?"
The corpse, as expected, doesn't reply. Adam clears his throat and pitches his voice up, "You're so mean, Adam! I'm dead, dead as hell! I can't do shit to entertain you!"
He sighs, rubbing at an eye, "It's been thirty minutes, and I'm already losing it. Talking out loud to myself."
He lets his head knock against the wall, "Lawrence, you better hurry with the reinforcem-"
The phone rings again, blue screen glowing again.
Adam swallows, more nervous than previous. "C'mon, it can't take that long to trace a call." He ignores the slight panicked whine in his voice.
The phone, a non-living object, doesn't respond and keeps playing its soft cheery tune.
"Zep, pretend I didn't just bash your head in a bit ago and crawl over and pick the phone up."
The corpse doesn't reply either.
Adam draws his knees to his chest and lets out a breath, eyes trained on the phone. At least it's a calm jingle.
He lets his head drop onto his knees. Maybe he can at least rest. Covered in blood from multiple people, dirt and grime, he can't say this is the best place he's slept but... probably not the worst, either.
The phone stops, leaving him in the dark again. Except a few moments later, it starts up again.
Adam clenches his jaw, but continues listening.
On the 7th call, he finally moves.
His shoulder aches, but the curled up sitting position he was in is starting to hurt his shoulder.
Zep's thigh isn't comfortable and he feels kinda gross using a corpse as a pillow, but it's better than nothing, he supposes.
The phone starts up again and Adam feels like he's going to go insane.
"If this is Alison calling, just know that I think your husband is attempting to get me help." He says, "Or maybe not. For all I fucking know he could be dead outside this room."
The realization that Lawrence could be dead hits him hard, and he feels nauseous.
He rolls onto his side, facing the door and the little light. "Please, please, find a way out of here, Lawrence. At least one of us needs to survive today."
The jingle stops, and the phone turns off after a few seconds.
Every time it happens now, Adam fears it'll die. Then it starts up a few moments later, driving Adam insane all over again before it descends into despair.
Adam thinks over the events of the day and comes to a realization.
If he had enough of a throw, he could use his clothes to drag the phone over to him like he did with the tape recorder earlier.
Quickly, he grabs his shirt and the drain stopper, and on the phones next ring, he throws and comes up short.
Multiple tries happen until the phone go dark.
It's not long enough.
"No, no, has to be another way."
He puts a hand to his shoulder wound, trying to help with whatever pain is there. Then, get it.
With much pain from the gunshot, he pulls his shirt off and ties it to the end of his jacket and throws.
It catches, and Adam shouts in excitement.
The phone catches on Zep's brains but Adam doesn't care, he just climbs over and grabs the phone.
He flips it open and waits.
A call comes in, and he immediately hits the answer.
"Lawrence? Lawrence, is that you?"
A choked sob escapes Adam, and he shakes his head, then realizes he needs to speak. "No, shit, it's Adam. I-I was stuck in here with him. He's out now. I don't know where he is. He.. shit, you need to send help. I don't know if he's okay."
There's chatter besides Alison, and quickly, her panicked questions give way to a new voice, "This is Officer Spenceman, may I ask who you are."
"A-Adam." He says, shaky, "Adam Faulkner Stanheight."
"Do you know where you are right now?"
"I'm in a bathroom. I don't know where this bathroom is, but it seems like a warehouse. Please, you need to send help. I'm still chained up and can't get to him. I don't want to die here."
"Is there anything you can use to identify where you are? Any clues?"
Adam shakes his head, "No, nothing shows me where I am, and I'm in the dark anyway. I can't see shit."
"Okay, stay on the line. We're using the call to track where your location is. Can you talk to me about something pleasant?"
Adam sputters for a moment, "I'm sorry?"
"Talk to me about something positive you remember."
Adam pauses and then talks, "There's a black cat that roams my apartment complex. I don't know who owns her or who the fuck lets their cat roam a place like that. But, I carry treats on me to feed to her, and I pet her whenever I see her. She's visited my apartment a few times."
"Did you name her?"
Adam wonders why he's talking about this, "I just called her cat. She felt more like a person to me than most people I actually knew."
"Can you-"
Beep.
Adam blinks, suddenly plunged into darkness again.
He pulls the phone away and sees the little screen had gone dark.
"No, nonono. FUCK! NO!" He screams, throwing the phone.
He hears the device shatter and break.
He's once again left in the dark.
Maybe he'll die here.
He looks up to the ceiling, into the black abyss that surrounds him in this hell of a bathroom.
"God, I've never been your biggest fan, and I know you're definitely not mine. But, if there's anything you could do for me, it'd be letting me live past this. Please, I'm not your favorite son but I'll do whatever you need to survive."
---
A loud bang startles Adam awake.
He opens his eyes and reflexively covers them from the light.
Wait, light?
"H-Hello?" He calls weakly.
"Adam?" Comes a soft voice.
He recognizes it but can't remember where.
"Yes! Yes, that's me!" He scrambles up, ignoring the pain searing through his body, "Please, please get me out of here!"
He hears a soft choked cry, and he blinks, trying to get the woman's face in view. "Adam, you're supposed to be dead."
"I'm not, just, get me out. Please, I'll do anything, just please." He whines, pulling himself up and closer.
A woman's face is what greets him behind the flashlight. The lady from his apartment.
"Rockstar?" He says weakly.
"Y-yeah, that's me. The rockstar in the hallway. The photo you never developed." She sits in front of him, flashlight clattering to the ground.
Adam blinks, confused beyond reason.
Did she bring him here? No, she's saving him.
With his leftover strength, he crawls over to her, chain just barely catching him from moving closer. He heaves himself to sit up.
"Rockstar, please, I need help out of here. I'll do anything you need."
"You survived the part of your test, and he didn't yet he lived, and you were left to die." Rockstar wipes at her face, mascara trailing down her face, "I didn't want that. I wanted you to live."
"I'm alive now. You can get me out of here, can't you?"
Rockstar nods weakly, hands fumbling around a key.
"Please, Rockstar. Help me out."
Rockstar looks to him, brown eyes watery and weak, "Will you help me live?"
Adam nods, "I have a place you can stay at. Just let me recover, and I'll clean it and do anything you need."
She shakes her head, "No, I have a place to live. I just..." She takes a shaky breath, "Be my friend?"
Adam pauses, "I wouldn't have hoped to see you at my buddy's concert if I didn't want to get to know you."
"Okay," Rockstar says softly, "You'll be helping me with more of this. Part of my family."
Rockstar moves the light closer to his foot and unlocks the chain.
Adam doesn't move, doesn't want to scare her.
For someone who put him into a death trap, he's surprisingly calm around her.
"Come on, Adam." She says softly, helping him to his feet.
Adam sways, feeling extremely weak. "Hospital?"
"Something like it." She mumbles.
Adam nods lamely, "Yea, sounds like every rock show I've gone to."
She laughs weakly, and Adam follows.
It's the last sound that echoes in the bathroom's walls. The sound of survival.
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The doll's hunter.
The Hunter.
The good hunter as she called him.
Covered in blood and viscera of the beasts he kills, lays by the gentle dolls side. She's unfazed by his gorey appearance, smiles kindly at him even.
She takes his hat off and gently cards her fingers through his hair.
He sighs, the touch relaxing him.
"Oh, Hunter." She says softly, "You mustn't push yourself so hard."
He mumbles something softly, pushing his head further into her side, seeking whatever comfort he can from her.
She wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer, seemingly not caring of dirting her delicate clothes.
"My Hunter, please take care for yourself when I am unable to." She says.
He tightens his hand around her side, balling up in her clothes, throat closing up. He can't stay here forever, but he would if he could.
"You will have to wake up eventually... You cannot live in this dream forever."
He knows that.
That soon he will wake, weapons in hand, prepared to hunt again.
But for now, he lies close to the Doll.
"Sleep now, my good hunter." The Doll says quietly, "I will protect your form here while you rest."
The Hunter nods slightly, sinking into her kindness. Her layers of clothes masking the hard body of the porcelain, and creating something of a nice cushion for when he awakes.
---
He awakes by a lamp.
The small souls hold his free hand, while his other hand rests atop the lamp itself.
His head hung, looking as if he were silently praying.
He lifts his head with a frown, he's no one to pray to. Cept maybe the Doll.
She'd hear his prayers and respond in kind. Unlike the Great Ones the Church prays to.
He stands, the small souls releasing his hand with groans as they sink into the ground.
He grabs at his Saw Cleaver, whipping it out into its second form.
He wants blood, he wants gore, he wants revenge for whatever thing woke him here and not in his Doll's comfort.
The Hunter wants the beating heart of a beast, still beating in his hand, to be crushed between his fingers. The blood splattering against his face.
He craves their flesh to be stripped from their tainted bodies.
He needs to hunt.
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