Chapter Text
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I do not own any of the characters, except, well, a few. Anyways, howdy and welcome to this shit show, because I know DAMN WELL I aint proofreading until months after I finish the fic and have to fix it.
my name is cecil and i will be writing this/attempting to finish this for about a year. lowkey only doing this bcs my therapist says i need to practice long term commitment to something... anyways, thanks for reading!
(I appreciate if anyone wants to proofread for me bcs what is this bs 😭⁉️)
TIMELINE
the timeline this book will be following.
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Fredbear's Family Diner, 1983
- Unknown
- Closed due to murder
Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, late 1984
-lasted until jan 1985
-closed due to rumors/lack of business
-five missing children
Various Sister Locations
-unknown
-bad reputation, closed
Circus Baby's Pizza World
- Unknown
-Closed due to "gas leaks"
Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rentals
- Unknown
- Unknown
F redbear’s family diner
-1983 to Unknown
-Closed due to Springlock malfunctions.
Various Sister Locations (pt2)
- Unknown
-Closed due to springlock suits being retired.
Toy Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza
-1987
-Closed due to Toys "malfunctioning"
(Restored) Freddy Fazbear's Pizza (pt2)
- Unknown to 1993
-Closed due to low budget.
Fazbear's Fright
- 1994/2002
-Closed due to fire
Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex
-events of security breach
-around 2003-2010
The book, is set in early 2000's. The technology is advanced around 20/30 years. Phones you see today, they have here.
DISCLAIMER:
by the way, all of these are guesses of what the timeline of events were. i probably wont even stick to these, because honestly, by the time security breach happens, you'd be 60... yeah, not a good look. you would die an hour in. i want to say youre around 30 in this?
i also probably wont use it because its missing a lot of details, and i think a location or two. but i will use the general idea of it.
good luck figuring out what im writing!! bye!!!
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Fazbear Entertainment wasn't one for safety.
Like, at all.
You knew that.
Your family knew that.
Your childhood friends knew that, having experienced the industries bullshit themselves.
Hell, your fucking cat knew.
Around 15-20 years ago, five children went missing at the pizzeria, and it all went downhill from there. You decided, with your friend, Michael, to investigate yourselves with Henry Emily, the cofounder, because the police were doing jack shit.
Then he, your "friend", went missing.
That didn’t leave a nice scar. Well, guess what? Henry died in a fire at one of the new locations. Six months to a year after your friend's death.
So you had nothing. No family, leads, absolutely nothing.
Give or take four years, word came that they were building a new, new location.
You knew it was dangerous. Everything labeled 'Fazbear's Entertainment' was dangerous. So why the fuck were you standing at its newest locations door, the Pizzaplex mega mall or some shit like that, breaths-width away?
Why were you, your dumbass in all your glory, about to go in for an interview? Hell if I fucking know.
Let's set the scene real quick.
Senior year, Highschool, mid-late 1986.
12-14 years ago
3 years after Evan's death.
Weeks before Elizabeths.
There was a fight in the hallway.
Honestly, not that surprising in high school. Or in any school, really. I mean, some kids were fresh out of puberty. Tension, with no doubt, will be evident. Oddly enough, so would affection, accompanied by a gross itching for some premarital intimacy. It was weird, no matter how you put it.
I sighed, shoving past the students who made a road block. Hall block. Whatever. They still blocked the hall, even if you called the place a church. It was the end of the school day, way too late for this shit. But, nobody was moving. They were too distracted by whatever was happening. They all looked to be in a trance, pushing and inching to get closer. It didn't even seem like it was a fight at this point.
Alright. Who in the world put posters of nudes on the wall? My gaze scanned the area. Okay, no nudes.
So why the fuck wasn't anybody moving?
I huffed, eyes finally trailing over to the commotion (not that I could see it very well). I wasn't one to watch two premature, wheezing, sweating kids fight, so I hadn't really looked at them until now.
Despite all odds, I had caught a mere glimpse of the fight in the midst of all the shoving, shouting, and cheering.
It was a jock, probably a senior, slamming a kid into lockers, the floor, and basically anything he could. It was rather humiliating to watch, why fight if all you can do is shove? Ridiculous. At least know how to fight if you’re going to waste everybody’s time.
The kid, the one being pushed around, looked familiar. His fluffy hickory-colored mullet struck a bell, which urged me closer. Well, more like struck a wall. The jock slammed him again, this time into a locker, resulting in a loud grunt from both parties.
For some reason, my mind only seemed to register one of the boys grunts. 'That should not have given me the reaction it did. Okay, I have to admit, that sounded- No.' I shook my head, giving a blonde chick, who I recognized as some bitch named Emily, a shove. That effectively pushed her against another girl, who almost immediately started arguing with her. Whoops.
Whispering and cheering, laughing, and even whistling was heard in the halls. Teachers yelled, kids shoved, it kept going back and forth. Banter was exchanged between students, usually from those who wished to inch closer to the main fight itself. No matter how many times people shoved, yelled, or even pinched other students, they were like brick walls; unwilling and unmoving.
However,
Brick still crumbled.
Which, I was going to stoop that low, picking fights on kids, if they didn't start moving their ass. I pushed past a few freshman’s, accidentally stepping on their shoe before reaching another spot I couldn’t move from.
The shoving was intense, yet the person next to me didn’t seem affected by it at all.
Oh.
…Oh.
I realized that I was shoved to the front of the crowd, the fight clear as day now. Of course, how cliché. The classical, "stop! this isn't like you!" bullshit. I could literally feel my eye bags sagging. I wanted—needed, sleep. And I can't just sleep on the quiet kid in my fifth class.
So now what?
I couldn't help but look back at the fight, despite how much I didn’t want to, gaze locking with a star wars shirt before a football uniform got in the way. Wait, star wars? Well, now I had to help this dude. I stared at the perfectly messy head of hair on the star wars shirt wearing boy, who was, of course, losing the fight right now. Maybe if I could just catch a glimpse of his face- maybe if he was cute- absolutely not.
I forced my gaze away.
'Okay, whatever. You're at the front now. Get this shit over with. You can't get past this absurd amount of people.' I tried to reason with myself, sparing a glance to see who was fighting in the first place. For some reason, finding out who they were didn’t seem to be my top priority like it should’ve been. Rookie mistake, considering how disappointing it truly was. Like, honestly.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I sneered. To be honest, I didn't even know I yelled until, well, I yelled. I knew I had, well, talked, but not that loudly. Does that make sense? That definitely makes sense, right?
The halls went quiet, a few kids scurrying.
The jock, which I recognized as Eli, some bitch ass mother fucker on the football team who thought he was the shit, stopped in his spot. The asshat had the audacity to have a crush on me since middle school, so of course, he tried kissing ass whenever he could. Well, he just got busted kicking someone’s ass for probably no reason.
Scratch that, there WAS no reason.
That seemed pretty clear to me when I saw the panicked look on his face, eyes refusing to meet mine.
The kid in his arms, noticing his distracted state, was quick to elbow Eli right where it hurts. Watching the jock double over, he started to beat the everloving shit out of him. I hadn't even had the chance to recognize the other one, taking a step forward, about to pry him off Eli when I paused.
The star wars shirt makes a lot of sense now.
"Oh, goddamnit, Michael?" I huffed out in annoyance, giving them both dirty looks now. I just wanted to go home and pet my cat. Why do I even bother at this point?
No idea, actually.
I grumbled curses under my breath, collecting my wits before grabbing Mike and pulling him away. He was quick to reach for my arm, evidently in fight or flight mode, before realizing it was just me. ‘Just you wait, sunny boy, I’ll give you a nice talking to later.’
"Are you out of your goddamn minds? Go home." I gave the blonde next to him a glance, which was on the edge of a glare. Eli stared, opening hid mouth to defend himself. I raised an eyebrow. He closed it.
Suddenly, the halls seemed a lot more quieter and a lot less crowded.
Eli's friends, also jocks, laughter was exponentially a lot quieter. A boy, wearing his football uniform, stopping backhanding the boy next to him's stomach while in a giggling fit, now standing awkwardly. It was pretty much silent in the hallway, except for the skidding of shoes on the tiles as students rushed to leave.
Silent? Or silenced.
I was pretty sure the teachers had given up on stopping the fight, no longer yelling. Not like they got paid enough to, anyway. I clung onto that thought that I wasn’t going to get in trouble, about to speak before being interrupted.
"I was leaving, until this douche-" Eli started. This earned a exasperated look from Michael, his cerulean eyes holding a load of bafflement.
"Shut your trap. You know damn well, if you didn't sho-" Michael counter, lips swollen and red, the cut on his brow (barely visible under his fringe) allowing blood to trickle down his cheek slowly. He looked so absolutely kissable right now.
What?
No.
Who said that?
Not me.
"No, don't even. I don't wanna know.” I slapped a hand over Mike’s mouth, ignoring his glare. “Get you and your filthy little buddies," I paused, giving the group of boys (who were standing off to the side) a narrowed glare, "Out of here, before we all get in trouble." I scolded, pointing a finger into the blondes chest.
Oh yeah, Eli's blonde. Very average white school boy in Hurricane, Utah. The epitome of stereotypes.
The gunk-covered and sweat drenched teenage boy stared down at her, nearly frothing at the mouth, fuming (to the point it looked like smoke came out of his ears). He had a condescending look on his face, lips curled into a grimace.
It didn't bother me that much, him glaring at me in such a way, considering he reeked from football practice earlier in the day. If you smell, you smell. You can't judge anybody else because you literally stink, and that’s embarrassing in itself. How can you smell in this day and age, even with all of the ways to help you not reek of onions available?
"Fine, whatever." He decided, voice shrilling in a barbarous sort of way that I found myself wanting to punch him. “Go smoke a pack with your douchebag boyfriend." He quickly spat, his words defensive. Giving Michael a glare before turning to scurry away, he totally expected to walk away with no consequence.
Well, guess who didn't handle that well, and decided, okay, fuck you, you should rot in hell? Picture the stereotypical 'bad boy,' with undeniable childhood trauma, no mom, a shitty dad and an unexplainable series of unfortunate events.
Yeah, you know, Michael. The one boy in school who wasn't a complete asshole. Okay, scratch that. He absolutely was. But it's whatever. He had a pretty face and that's really all that mattered in the 80's when you're horny, maturing teenagers. Not to mention his hands. Oh, and his smile. Don't forget- okay, stopping there.
Anyways, one blink and they're fighting again, this time, the godsend of a teenage boy with daddy issues was beating the daylight out of Eli. If it weren't for his dad, I was sure he would've been expelled.
But he wasn't.
Because nobody liked being on William Afton's bad side, especially considering everything going on with missing kids and possession and animatronics. That’s a one way ticket to lose your kids.
Anyways, the brawl was drawn out. It was only until a few more students realized how fucking stupid this whole thing was, that the halls emptied to just a couple of people hanging around.
Teacher's decided that it was a great time to absolutely decimate our school records, hurriedly reaching us with reprimanding looks on their faces. Gods, teachers were such ass-kissers.
And that's how I ended up straddling Michael Afton in the Nurse's office, lifting his bangs up with one hand and cleaning a cut with the other. Teenage romance. Great. No, not great. Not romance.
What the fuck was I thinking?
"Ow." He hissed, tufts of hair almost immediately falling in the way when he flinched. In literally every other circumstance, this would've sent me into a spiral, contemplating every minuscule detail of my life, but I spitefully pressed the cleaning alcohol wipe harder on the cut. "Ow, stop!"
"Whoops, must've lost focus." I huffed, feigning innocence without a glance into the boy's eyes. I would've felt too guilty otherwise. My lower lip slightly sunk in, my teeth (not so gently) gnawing at it.
I had known him since elementary. Always hanging out, always there for each other, even on birthdays. Even if nobody showed up, we were there. Even if it wasn’t our birthdays, we were there, together. Through giggles and pranks, no matter what shitty thing Mike decided to go through with, I stayed. We were practically inseparable—until middle school. Michael had gone through a lot of shit that year. Around eighth grade, his mom left. His brother did too, I think.
But that wasn't why we stopped talking.
We stopped talking because he decided to have shitty friends, and I wasn't putting up with their bullshit. Especially because what they coerced him into doing. I mean, that was a child. Evan was utterly defenseless, and if it wasn't for one of those shitheads grabbing my arms and restraining them around my back (going as far to get closer, pressing themself against me),
I could've stopped that shit-show from happening. All of it, maybe. William's slow, desperate and destructive descent into insanity.
But I didn't.
So here I was, engrossed in my work.
I don’t remember what that little tangent was about, but hopefully that made a point.
Scanning the Afton's face for anything else that needed tending to, I didn't notice the firm hands on my waist. And how he stared. As if, if he looked away, I would disappear, crumbling in his hands. I also didn't notice how he rubbed circles on my side with his thumb, drawing random shapes with it. Until I did.
"Let go." I uttered, avoiding his gaze. And he did, albeit reluctantly.
Readjusting myself on his lap, I took a deep breath before climbing off. More like, inching off, as to not absolutely bodyslam against the tiled floor and wake up with bruises. It was pretty high up.
People might wonder, why the fuck was I on his lap in the first place? That was because the nurses' bed was ridiculously high (to make up for her lack of shortness), and I wasn't about to stand on tiptoes the whole time. That was way too much work for someone who wasn't even an actual nurse.
"What the fuck was that, if you don't mind me asking?" I finally questioned, only glancing at him for mere seconds before turning back towards whatever the fuck I was distracting myself with.
"Well..." He began.
Present
So now here I was, debating on fleeing or not. Endangering yourself, really? All for some emo, star wars obsessed, nerd of a mechanic?' I asked myself, staring breathlessly at the door in front of me, iridescent neon lights blaring at me from the other side. 'Okay, who was I kidding. Yes. Absolutely.'
Hands clenched into a fist, I had no other choice but to go in. I was literally on the doorstep, the sign of the building peering down at me. The plastic lining of Freddy Fazbear's logo bored its eyes into me, a widespread smile, which I've grown to hate, taunting me. Or maybe it was just my imagination. Everything I've been through—Michael, has been through, was just my overactive imagination. That was a possibility, right?
The Pizzaplex wasn't open yet, or at all, really. It was Friday. They did maintenance or whatever on Friday's. So when walking in, employees got a good look at me freaking the fuck out. Honestly, who wouldn't? They were animatronics. Hurricane had a history of, well, having shitty ass, sentient (at least not to their knowledge) ass, human-eating robots. Ass. Fuck. What was I thinking? Michael should ass fuck me. No. Not that. What the fuck? Definitely not that. He was like, I don't know, dead? For fuck sakes. Well, when I knew him he wasn’t dead… that’s my cue to shut up.
I swiftly opened the door, walking in before I could chicken out. It softly clicked behind me, indicating it was shut. Okay, maybe not the brightest idea. Out of all the people in the world, I seemed to have the best timing. It was pretentious, walking into something at the exact right moment. No matter how bad or good my day was, my timing was impeccable.
Where was this leading?
Freddy faz-fucking Fazbear, seven feet tall, red leg warmers slightly oversized, and slightly adorable, his signature mini-top hat sitting upon his head, was striding through the main lobby with what seemed to be... a doctor?
'Weirdo.'
It was as if he read my mind.
Cerulean eyes fluttered towards me, his jaw dropping and feet stopping. Despite everything, my gaze caught onto his eyelashes. The most tiny detail about him. Eyelashes. What the fuck. He just looked at me, maw slightly lowered in... shock? Wait, why does he have eyelashes? Please tell me they all don't have those.
I wasn't aware what came over me, because I, too, paused in my stride. We were just staring at one another. Sounds of a woman gently speaking was muffled as we exchanged looks, gibberish to a distracted mind. It was probably the doctor, my mind dismissed loosely.
I blinked.
A crash echoed throughout the area.
'Holy shit- DID FREDDY FUCKING FAZBEAR… JUST TRIP?'
I didn't have time to process what happened before a spider looking animatronic crawled its way over, nine black beady eyes staring at me, blinking in unison. Where did it even come from? My staring now directed at the mini-spider thingy, I broke out of my trance. Cute. No. Not cute. Creepy. Can I go home? I would very much like to go home. Realizing the mini-robot came the opposite direction of Freddy, so there was now way in hell he could’ve tripped on it, I concluded, albeit with a stifled laugh, that Freddy Fazbear ate absolute shit upon seeing me. The doctor was freaking out, attempting to shake him out of his daze. Another employee, wearing a black utility belt, was rushing over.
"Ah, Y/N!" Both me and Fred's head perked up, my eyes settling on a face with a friendly smile. His name was Arthur, a stout, pudgy man with crinkled eyes. But maybe that's because of how big his smile was. His beard was grey, some patches darker than others. Recognizable in a crowd, I assumed. "You are Y/N, correct?"
That was the mini-robots cue to skedaddle, which he happily did. Small chirps erupted from his voice box as he passed Fredbear, who payed the spider no mind.
"Yup, that's me. Nice meeting you." I stuck out my hand to shake, and Arthur took it. His grip was firm, shaking it up and down in a childish manner. He shook hands with both, one clasping mine and the other shaking it.
He pulled away first.
The orange animatronic, give or take five-ten meters away, still hadn't even begun to look away from us. I tried not to pay him much attention. Probably just a malfunction.
Arthur chuckled. "Since we are already welcome to accepting you," He began, pausing, "If you'll have us, of course," Arthur quickly added on. "My purpose today... is to be your tour guide!" He exclaimed enthusiastically, neon purple lights reflecting off his lopsided glasses.
I didn't say anything, giving him a lopsided smile. What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, yippee! Cowabunga! Marvelous!'? No. Absolutely not.
His face contorted, gaze flickering between me and the absolute monster of an animatronic. His face lit up, as if conjuring a new way to make this more awkward.
"Oh, while we have the chance, let's introduce you to Fredbear over here." His gaze lingered on my face for a moment, hazel eyes analyzing my reaction, before trailing towards said bear. To retrieve him, maybe. I don't know.
'...What.'
"Hey, Anne? Can I borrow Fred for a moment?" He didn't even give me a moment to back out. Or to like, say no? Breath? Hello? Why was I expected to meet the freakishly tall, supposedly not possessed robot, on not even my first day?
"Yeah, sure." Anne called back to Arthur.
Anne and Arthur. Huh. Were they related? Not funny, Y/N. Fuck. The doctor, who I now know as Anne, crouched next to the animatronic. 'How is she so close? She knows the past, right? He could kill her. Right now, bite of '00. Hah. Bite of- Yeah, no.' "Hey, Freddy? You good? Because you'lsjsjbsdkdndnnd..." As soon as she started whispering, I stopped listening.
"Is that really a good idea?" I finally decided to get my word in when Arthur came sauntering back over to me.My gaze lingered on Fazbear, who was avoiding looking in my direction. Was he nervous? Scared? Definitely anxious, or something. I couldn't put my finger on it.
Wait.
Holy shit, what?
I squinted my eyes. There's no fucking way, it had expressions. Facial, fazfucking, expressions. I am so absolutely, catastrophically, undeniably, fazfucked. Fazfuck. Balls. Fazballs. That's enough. Faznough. Hah. Get it. Kenough. Faznough. Because Freddy’s just had faznough? This isn't helping.
"What do you mean?" The absolute angel of a manager asked, his wide smile faltering. Well, the only way I could tell was his bushy mustache, which wasn't curving upwards anymore.
"He faceplanted as soon as he saw me." I put it bluntly, eyes snapped to Arthur's. A few tufts of his gray hair had fallen in his face.
"Oh." He huffed, glancing at Freddy cautiously as he rose to his feet, stomping over. Well, he wasn't stomping. But give or take three hundred pounds or more of metal? That's gonna make a lot of noise, especially when it's fucking walking. That's such a weird thing to be able to say.
My eyes met porcelain ones, which were staring rather awestruck-ly? at me. Like it recognized me. I felt my skin crawl with the thought of one of those things familiarizing themselves with me.
"What is it, Manager Emily?" 'Emily?'
I almost got whiplash by how fast I looked over at Arthur. Was it coincidence? Henry's dead. Did he have a long lost brother? That's far fetched. He didn't even look like an Emily. Or sound like one. Arthur had a southern accent, instead of the western one Henry had. You know, the one I had grown accustomed to when I stayed at the Emily's residence after Mike's disappearance. Surely, Henry Emily didn't just resurrect. It had to be coincidence.
"Please, introduce yourself to Y/N here. She will be your band manager. Maybe your maintenance manager too." The stout little man winked at me and Fazfuck over here, skittering away. He went to go talk to Anne.
Well, this is fun.
Me and Freddy stood awkwardly. As awkwardly a big pile of metal could, I suppose. We were exchanging looks back and forth, panicking and looking away each time. 'Be the bigger person. Okay, you got this.' I cleared my throat.
"I-"
"I-"
We both paused, staring at each other.
"It's nice to meet you, Fred."
"Is your last name L/N?"
I paused.
He paused, metal ears pinning up in alarm.
"What?"
"What?"
If my jaw wasn't already dropped, it was now. My last name? How the FUCK did he, of all people, well, things, know my last name? Whatever. Not my business.
"This is the part where you say," I cleared my throat, whipping out my best impression of a robot bear I could, "'Hohoho! My names Freddy Fazbear! Nice to meet ya! Harharhar!' Okay? Let's try this again." He looked absolutely devastated at my impression of him. I had to ignore the curving of my lips, the corners tilting upward.
"That's stereotypical." He grumbled, voice gruff. His ears now pinned downwards, almost in, I don't fucking know, annoyance? Agitation? Shame? Something along those lines. Or not. "You didn't answer." Freddy quickly reminded, ears perking up as he intently stared down at me.
'You're kidding. I didn't even notice—is that a word bank? Or am I going utterly insane, spiraling into my descent of madness?' Preferably the latter. As cool as it is for literal ROBOT to say whatever it wants... This is Freddy's. Not Chuck E' Cheese. Meaning, a possessed animatronic could randomly tell me exactly how it wanted to tear me apart, limb by limb.
"Yeah." I grudgingly confirmed, failing to register his look of recognition and hesitation. Like, he recognized me but hesitated to say anything about it. Well, not that I knew that. "Why?"
"It was in the system. But there was a question mark next your profile." Freddy quickly explained, rather in a rush. Sounded more like an excuse, if anything. His height, like mentioned before, was staggering. No matter how tall I was, which for the record, I was 5"9, I still had to exhaust my neck to look up at him.
(a/n: Micheal was around 5"10-6"2, by the way)
After a few, drawn out seconds, I hummed. He seemed satisfied enough by that, and after a few more minutes of staring, the two A's (Anne and Arthur) took us our separate ways.
“What was that?” Arthur whispered as we walked toward the atrium, where the animatronics performed.
“I don’t even know.”
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what the actual FUCKKK was that.
🎸🎸🎸