Dreamwitchx FNAF x reader re-write (book 1)

Ch4: Behind The Curtain

It's over as soon as it started. Chica releases you from her vice of a grip and stands slightly behind you with a hand on your shoulder. Everyone else tries to act natural. A couple moments go by before you speak.

"What just happened?"

Bonnie and Foxy try to look busy.

"Sorry, you know me, I just, uh, love hugs." Chica says.

You stare at Freddy, waiting for an answer.

Instead, he just yawns.

"Yes, classic Chica. Boy, is it getting late," He says, "Don't you think, Foxy?"

Foxy quickly stands up next to Freddy.

"Oh, yeah, I'm exhausted. I think we should all go to bed." With that, he puts a hand on your back and begins guiding you towards the exit.

You look at your phone, it's only 4:30. You wordlessly show the screen to Foxy.

"We're not going to be much fun here, we're all just going to go to sleep. You have such a long drive back home, anyways." You really don't.

The two of you stand outside the doors of the pizzeria in the empty parking lot, save for your car.

"So," He starts, "which way's your house?"

"I think it's that way?" You point in the general direction of your house, "Actually, I think that park I was telling you about before is that way, too. It's really pretty this time of year, we should go there sometime."

Foxy mumbles something in response and fiddles with his hand. His fox ears turn almost all the way backwards, to face the pizzeria, and he makes a face like he's just heard something. You try to listen but you don't hear anything. You look at him questioningly and he mutters something about Chica dropping something in the kitchen. You get in your car and ask one more thing before you close your door.

"By the way, I meant to ask, is your nose okay?"

Foxy spaces out for a second, looking at you with a blank expression before he answers.

"Oh I forgot, yeah my nose is fine, thanks for asking."

Sure enough, his nose looks fine. It doesn't even look swollen. You guess Chica was right, despite her strange wording.

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Laying in your bed at home, you decide to do some more research on Fazbear's. You'd really only skimmed a few articles before, but even that was enough to raise some red flags. Now, though, you don't know what to think. You knew there were some missing kids cases back in the 80s, but what you didn't know is that they were investigated as abductions. It's widely accepted that someone took the kids, and even more widely accepted that the kids are now deceased. There was even a suspect, but since no weapon or bodies were ever found, he was never charged. The only information you can find on him is that he used to work at the restaurant at the time. You do, however, find an old newspaper article about one of the families of the missing kids. In one of the countless articles you read, is a picture of a young woman with big curly hair and bright makeup. She was a teen mother and loved her daughter more than anything. She took her life shortly after her child went missing.

You click off of the site, you don't want to give yourself nightmares.

The next article was published by the company detailing how their animatronics worked. There's a picture of a hulking yellow bear animatronic and a rather gaunt looking yellow rabbit animatronic that remind you of your Freddy and Bonnie. Apparently, human performers used to get into these suits and the mechanical parts that made the suits capable of standing on their own were held back by a springlocking inner cage. One image showed a man in the process of putting on the yellow rabbit suit. All his face was obscured as he put on the head, except for his eyes. Something about that image made you very uncomfortable. He had deep eyebags and deep set blue eyes lending to his tired look, and yet his gaze was strikingly sharp. It feels like he was looking through the camera, through the article, through your phone screen, right at you. It feels like he hates you. You get a notification, something from Imani, but you're too captivated by the strange man's cold stare to answer.

You feel afraid in a way you haven't since you were a kid. That strange irrational fear that makes you want to curl up in your parents bed. When knowing there's nothing to be afraid of doesn't help. When you were a little kid, it was ghosts that used to scare you. You used to have nightmares about them every night. It got to a point where waking up screaming was just routine. But that was back then.

Now, when you eventually fall asleep, the only thing you dream about are a pair of dead, resentful, blue eyes. 

└─── °∘❉U ･ × ･ U❉∘° ───┘