Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I finally finalized my plans for the whole series. This chapter is to explain my plans, without major spoilers for my version of events, and a place for you to come back to as things update, to ask questions or see if my plans have shifted.

This series will have 11 “Arcs”.
I will update the list w/ chapter titles as I create them.

There will be one death per arc, excluding the normalcy arc. The death chapters will have a teddy bear emoji in the title. They can get grusome, so be safe.

Each chapter has a number associated with it. Some of these numbers are easter eggs but that’s not the most important part. The numbers explain the timeline, because it doesn’t go in timeline order.

Also, I will continue to rewrite chapters, not to change what happens but to improve how it is written as my skills improve.

ARC 1: “Normalcy”
- Chap. 1: [Preface]
- Chap. 2: [The Old House On The Hill] (836 Words)
- Chap. 3: [Can Nightmare Lay Still?] (923 Words)
- Chap. 4: [A Breakfast To Kill] (646 Words)
- Chap. 5: [Midnight Madness] (498 Words)
- Chap. 6: [A Walk In The Woods] (300 Words)
- Chap. 7: [It’s Your Fault] (770 Words)
- Chap. 8: [Don’t Shoot The Bear] (974 Words)

ARC 2: “The Beginning”
- Chap. 9: [Welcome Back, Mr. A] Interlude
- Chap. 10: [Beneath The Silver Screen] (513 Words)
- Chap. 11: [He Hadn’t Seen Her There…🧸] (924 Words)
- Chap. 12: [Schematical Dreams] (883 Words)
- Chap. 13: [Run Away] (328 words)
- Chap. 14: [Hide & Seek] (793 words)
- Chap. 15: [My Baby pt. 1] (316 words)
- Chap. 16: [My Baby pt. 2]

ARC 3: “Grief & Fury”
- Chap. 17: [Of Course, Mr. A] Interlude
- Chap. 18: [Enough]
- Chap. 19: [Now Is Not The Time]
- Chap. 20: [This Was A Mistake]
- Chap. 21: [It Was Perfect]
- Chap. 22: [Watch It]
- Chap. 23: [Don’t Touch]
- Chap. 24: [Come On]
- Chap. 25: [I Said I Was Sorry…🧸]
- Chap. 26: [Who Cares?]

ARCS 4-11: To Be Revealed

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Welcome, Mr. A
— — — — — —

It was dark outside.
With the moonlight blocked by heavy storm clouds, it was impossible to see anything through the windows.
There were no streetlights. Not even the occasional passing vehicle to give temporary shelter from the endless void of night.

If there was light, it wouldn’t have revealed much. Just a simple yard surrounded by a classic white picket fence. And a purple car parked slanted on the black asphalt driveway.

But tonight, it was just suffocating darkness outside the Afton family home.
And the insistent, but useless, stabbing of raindrops against cold glass windows.

Inside, curled up on his favorite leather chair, was the patriarch. A dangerously clever father of three, with a smile sharper than a knife, William Afton.
He read silently from the worn out pages of his favorite book, one he already had memorized and still reread like a ritual.

Ahead of him was the small wooden television set, the one he had inherited long before his children were born.
Sitting practically pressed against the bright screen, was an equally bright little girl. Surrounded by an honestly horrific amount of disregarded fairytales books.
William cleared his throat expectantly, as he slowly turned another page in his novel.

No response came.

So he spoke, “Sweetheart, not so close.”
The girl didn’t move, but did acknowledge her father with a distracted “mhm.”

The man raked a hand down his pale face, glancing sideways at the mid-century-style sun-shaped clock on the wall. 12am? So it was one of those nights.
Alright.
That would be fine. There was time. It was a friday afterall.

William places his own book face down on the coffee table to reach forward, joints popping. He grabs a discarded book from the floor and uses it to tap his daughter’s pink-clad shoulder lightly.
Immediately she turns, red hair whipping over her shoulders, and piercing green eyes meeting his own dark ones.

“Elizabeth.” He said expectantly, an eyebrow raised.

Immediately she shuffles back on the carpet, until her back hits the couch, pouting, eyes still locked on her father’s face. He smiles. “Good.” Is all he says before he leaning back, allowing her presence to fade back into his perfect design.

Slumped lazily across the couch, halfway to sleep, was William’s eldest son, Micheal.

There isn’t much to say that wasn’t expected, in William’s opinion. He fit the mold of the normal teenage boy. Sarcastic, loud, hungry, emotional and unnecessarily confrontational. The expected results of adolescence taking a well-raised child and making them a temporary mediocre mistake.

In truth, William was already seeing evidence that his teenager was returning to his sanity. Already beginning to remember his father wasn’t some unjust monster fate made just to torment him.
Delightfully ahead of schedule. By years.
Although he still had significant moments of delusion.

One such ridiculous delusion being Mike’s assumption that his father had ‘bought out the whole street or something’, because no other houses were ever built on their street.

On every neighboring street the houses were packed in like sardines, and yet their house sat alone on a small hill.
Mike hated it.

William believed the exaggeration was born from his eldest having a hard time convincing friends to hike uphill to their house, or wait for Mike to hike down, for movie theater trips.

Like tonight, when apparently everyone else in town has plans or movie tickets.
While they did not.

BUT eventually the chaos would end…
Eventually.
William hoped.

God, what William wouldn’t give to prevent his other children from ever becoming teenagers.

Whispering from the back corner of the room drew the man from anxious thoughts, causing him to turn towards his youngest. A tiny thing of only seven perfect years with the same brown hair of his father. The boy was surrounded by a surmountable mountain of plushies. An impressive abomination of colors in a house bathed in yellows and browns.

A wider smile curled along William’s features as he stood up, silently stalking his way across the room and leaning over the child. “What are you up too over here?” He crooned, feigning amazement.

The boy shrugged, resting his head on his knees and clutching the red Foxy plushie in his hand tighter.
The man frowned slightly, kneeling next to the pile. “Quite the collection, hmm?” He whispers, almost conspiratorially.

The child simply nods, not meeting eye contact. The man presses, unsatisfied, “Which is your favorite, my star?” Another silent response is offered.
The man frowns and giving up on bonding for the night.

Smoothly he stands, clapping loudly, once. All three heads snap towards him. “Alright. Bedtime.”

In a flurry of motion the kids clear out of the living room, to their own, along with the mess.

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Enjoy, Mr. A
— — — — — —

Mr. Afton glances around the living room, a quick sweep to make sure no important items or lost friends were missed.
Disappointingly, he found both.
Having been, most likely, kicked under the couch, one orb-like black plastic eye peered up from under the couch.

Groaning in discomfort, Will kneels down, knees creaking, to retrieve the yellow plush bear.
It was upsetting at the very least, to William, that Fredbear had been left behind. Thrown away… like a simple toy.

Everything about Fredbear was neither simple nor replaceable. Especially not this toy. Not for his family.
It was heavier than you’d assume, weighted deep in its core, far under the fluff. And just a tad bigger than the common stuffed toy. Just enough for its purpose.
Not that he had this current purpose in mind when he first made it.

No matter, it will be returned and everything would continue.
The mistake will be fixed. “It’s an easy fix.” the schemer muttered under his breath as he casually walked down the hall, past the redundant grandfather clock.

But first.
He paused at the first door, peeking inside momentarily, to check what he was already certain about. Elizabeth was already in bed, obedient and asleep in the darkness.

The man nodded faintly before flirmly shutting the door. Lizzy was always so easy, so quick to listen, easy to convince. She wouldn’t need anything more from him tonight. A dream.

He continued until he reached the end of the hall, greeted between the two awaiting doors by his eldest, casually leaning against the window.
William squeezed the yellow plush neck in his hand, seeing his eldest son perched on the white windowsill, back against the glass and foot up on the wall.
“Micheal.”, he greeted calmly, reaching out with his free hand to playfully run a hand through the boy’s hair.

The boy glanced up from the carpet and rolls his eyes, shoving the hand away lazily. “G’night, dad.” William hated that, words spoken like some last minute excuse. “Words, Micheal. Speak properly please.” When the teenager just blinks at him, he groans “Your siblings can do it.”

Now that got a reaction.

Mike practically recoiled in disgust. “What? Why—“

——— /// —~— /// —~~— //~^~\\\ ———
> apologies, Mr. Afton.
> there was a glitch in the system.
REBOOTING…
SKIPPING TO BETTER QUALITY FOOTAGE…
— — — — — —

The door slowly creaked open, spilling soft yellow light into the hallway like a gash, William slipping in without a word.

The little boy was curled up, tightly, on this bed. Tenser than a spring. The man almost felt bad… almost. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on how things looked, he thought to himself as he crossed the blue carpet.

Looking around you’d never guess this room was actually part of the house. Blue carpet, blue furniture, grey and white wallpaper. It was a stark difference to every other room. Yet, this room made William smile, despite his hatred for the melancholy color. William couldn’t help it, he knew it was wrong but he did pick favorites, occasionally.

The bed creaked as the father sat down next to his child, and instantly his arms were full of the boy, his boy hugging him like his life depended on it, shaking like he was dunked into ice water.
A prideful smile slips over Will’s features. Oh, THIS made so much else worth it. “What is this for, hm? I didn’t do anything for this, did I?” He chuckled comfortably.

The tiny shivering lamb shook his head against his father’s sweater, clinging. “He’s gonna hurt me.” Now this got William’s full calculated attention, arms quickly holding his little one’s face and tilting it back slightly. “Who?” He asked, leaving no room for deception.
The smallest Afton freezes, tearing up. It only made the patriarch’s eyes narrow in knowing suspicion.

“Micheal Afton, I swear to GOD!” William yelled, causing the boy in his lap jump, and causing the older boy to fall face first out of the closet, a red animal mask knocked from his head. Behind him, very obviously, the crawl space between their two rooms was wide open. William scoffs, unimpressed. “Hallway. Now.”

Standing up from the bed, William turns away from the door and pulls the covers over his youngest. Said boy still shaking, tears springing to his eyes. “Hush, he’s gone. I’ll talk to him.” No amount of words that could ever be said would calm him. The boy knew Mike was the least of his worries, the least worthy of his fear. It was just a reminder of the hell that awaited him not long from now, in the dark… behind the doors.

William kissed his baby’s forehead once, having to then untangle the child’s arms from his neck. “You’re going to strangle me like that, honey.”

As the boy, tears streaming down his little face, lays down against his pillow his father places the Fredbear plush against his chest. The child hesitates to take it. It’s heavy and hard to keep a hold of. The man doesn’t seem to care.

“Goodnight, my star. I’ll see you in the morning.” His youngest cries as he leaves. Once the room is bathed in darkness and the door is shut, he hands his eldest twenty bucks.

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— — — — — —

Mike groaned as he woke up.
The taste of something intensely oily and metallic hanging in the stale morning air and sticking to his teeth. Heavy enough to make you question if your mouth was bleeding.

Like grease, hydraulic fluid, and something almost like copper? Maybe.

Mike rolls onto his side, considering if it would be worth it to open a window or two. Airing it out would help, for a while. By every sunrise the metallic curse would once again flood the house.

Like it lived in the walls or something.

Mike didn’t have much time to think, for the day must begin again, as Mike is so very subtly reminded, by the sharp stinging chirps of his alarm lock.
If only 6am would never come.

He kicks his thick red quilt off him, angry at everything and nothing important.

Eventually he got up, running a hand through his tangled brown hair absentmindedly as he opens his bedroom door and—stubbed his foot hard on something. Yelping, his eyes snap downwards, to be met with the void-like eyes of his Fredbear plush… well his brother’s Fredbear plush, now.

Micheal didn’t remember Fredbear being hard like that. His dad made it on a whim, years ago. Something about toddlers, curiosity, and preventing Fredbear’s Diner liabilities.

The boy reaches down and plucks the toy up by the leg, letting it dangle and swing in front of face. “Ohh… gross.” Was all he said.

It felt wrong. Heavier, oddly balanced. What was in this thing? Hiding under the soft fabric.
”What the hell did he do to this thing?” Mike wonders, passing it and turning it over in his hands. He finds nothing visibly wrong with it. Not a stitch out of place.

Yet the wrongness stayed, from somewhere deep in the Fredbear plush, in its core. Which was much farther than Mike wanted to look.

So Mike moves on, carrying it under his arm, shaking off the strangeness, and shuffling towards the smell of melted butter, toast, and bacon.
— — — — — —

The tiny radio on the kitchen counter blared some old tune, the lyrics so muffled it was practically indistinguishable from white noise.

Next to the old radio stood William Afton, dressed in just a white button up, and faintly purple jeans. A golden Fredbear Entertainment Inc. “Legacy Employee” badge having been hastily fastened to the shirt pocket along with a worn out nametag that read something more like “Wí//1ann Af+0n”.

Mike shuffled into the kitchen, past Elizabeth’s chair, dumping the plushie next to his brother’s plate with a dense thunk. The sound made his father flinch momentarily, pausing to check over his shoulder. “Good morning, Micheal.”

“Coffee?” Mike whines out pitifully, gaining to vocal response from his father. Instead, William turned away from the loaf of bread he had been tying back into its bag to move his own coffee mug off the kitchen table, pouring it into the sink.

Once Mike was done rolling his eyes from the table, and had his face pressed dejectedly into the placemat, William turned back to the counter.

In precise motions, William drags the edge of a steak knife across the toast, almost ritualistically. Like the action it some daily test or offering to something unnamed.

None of the kids seemed to care, too busy counting the seconds before breakfast is finally served.

William always believed butter knives were the most useless utensil to grab, a waste of useful space, hence why they didn’t have any.
Maybe there was another reason. One that made more sense.

Or maybe it was just about the ritual of it all.

Chapter Text

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Goodnight, Mr. A
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A painful cacophony of car horn screams surround the Afton family car as William drives recklessly across an intersection, wheels screeching, his children squished like sardines in the back seat.

No one is dying.
No one is hurt.
The kids are all scared.
William is pissed.

Mike sits in the middle seat, hands splayed out against each back window as he tries his best to not slam against his little siblings. Why the hell did his dad not have the broken seatbelts reinstalled yet? This ride is a fucking nightmare.

“Da—PLEASE! Holy shiiittt!” William looks over his shoulder at his son, away from the road, glaring. “MICHEAL, Language!” The boy shakes his head in surprise, “What? You’re trying to kill us—look at the road!” William rolls his eyes but does look back at the road, turning harshly once again. The golden plush bear goes flying from the smallest Afton’s arms, turning into a projectile, that hits his father’s temple, hard, “FUCK!”

Instantly the car swerves once again, the plush landing in William’s lap, as the man pulls the car over on the side of the road.
BANG!
All three kids bang their heads against the headrests, crying out in unison, as the car abruptly stops.

William slams open the car door, eyes wild, jaw clenching, and walks out.
Micheal and Elizabeth lean forward, watching their father disappear into the woods like a cryptid, into the night.
All three children freeze, breathing heavily.
A tense symphony of fear.

Eventually.

Someone moves.

The little boy, shoved into footwell during the commotion, carefully squirms himself out. Pushing and wriggling past his frozen elder siblings, to plop into the driver seat.
Not to close the door. But to lay on his stomach, reach over into the dirt, and clutch the disregarded bear, its face and chest now covered in dark dirt.
The boy clutches the steering wheel with one hand as he peers over it, searching for their father in the headlight’s beams.
They can’t see a thing beyond the tree line.

Eventually Micheal and Lizzy sit back down, eyes glazed over, yet still staring unblinkingly towards the darkness. Searching, blindly, for the purple Freddy’s staff shirt or a shiny employee badge to appear between the trees.
They don’t see a thing.

The car hums in wait, almost comforting. Usually it would be, if their father had only just left them in a parking lot.

Not on the side of a busy road, after the sun had set.

No one notices when a pair of hands opens the glovebox and grabs a flashlight.
No one sees a another pair of feet hit the ground.
Not one moves when another body descends into the darkness.

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Goodnight, Mr. A
— — — — — —

Darkness swallowed the boy whole.
But he still took shaky steps forward, flinching at at every snapping twig under his feet.
It was cold.
He was scared.

click.

He turned on a light.
It illuminated the tall trees, branches moving in the wind like arms.
But it’s the spaces between the trees that are worse. Just endless darkness. No walls. No carpet. No dad just down the hallway.

The child sniffles and clutches his now disgusting bear tighter.
Sharp crackling comes from the toy and the child almost drops it, yelping as high pitched static screams out before quickly fading.

A voice follows, from the bear, warped but gentle. “Where are we going?”

The boy turns the soft toy to face him, flashlight now pointed at the sky. “F-Fredbear?”

The bear immediately responds “I’m here.” The child hugs it tightly to his chest, despite the button nose, and something deep inside, hurting a little against his chest. “I want my daddy.”

A static filled sigh echoes through the trees. “Go back. He hasn’t left you.”
He doesn’t know why exactly, but he does turn, walking back the way they came.

“You are very… brave.” Fredbear says hesitantly.
The child shakes his head “I want my daddy.”

The headlights of the car appear through the trees. And voices. Three of them.
The brave boy, eyes wide, runs the rest of the way back, straight into into his father’s leg, hugging it tightly and sobbing.

“Alright. It’s alright. Let’s go home now.” A voice says.

Chapter Text

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An anxious man obsessively cleans the cash register with a syrup-soiled rag. Rubbing hard enough to remove the paint from a few keys.

No amount of confetti-stamped walls could hide the grime seeping up from the paper-thin thread holding the business, and Henry, together.

His dirty blonde hair looking revoltingly puke green in the rotating rainbow disco lights. A perfect match with the scents of rotting pizza, curdled frosting, and actual puke.

Henry was close to crying.
Okay, maybe he was already crying.

That’s how the Aftons find him, shoulders hunched behind the counter, music blaring, a man quietly falling apart beneath strobing lights.
Hoping someone else can fix this.

William leads his three children inside the restaurant.
William’s sleeve is tugged, tentatively, by his youngest.
The man kneels, voice soft, listening to a whisper Henry can’t quite hear.
Michael, unimpressed, rolls his eyes and drags Elizabeth toward the playground, their hair bouncing between flashes of pink and blue from the lights.
Moments later William sighs, taking the yellow toy from his child’s arm before gently shoving him in the direction of his sibling.

William was tired, and annoyed. Clearly not in a giving mood. Yet, when he turns toward Henry, he straightens, his returning, practiced and instantly camera-ready.
He glides across the dying restaurant.
“Heard you needed me.” The genius inventor laughed, shaking his coworker’s hand firmly, and choosing to ignore the stickiness of Henry’s hand… hoping it was just lemonade.

Henry laughs, in a choked way. “Oh. Yeah? What did they say this time?”

William shrugs, leaning against the counter casually. “That you were scaring the children. Something about seven year olds being too young to learn about existential dread.”

Henry wheezes forcefully, tears springing to his eyes. “It’s not—It’s a mid-life crisis!” William raises an eyebrow, “It looks like a mental breakdown. What’s the crisis?”

Henry motions towards the singular birthday party across the restaurant.
“Did you get me call here because one of the mothers insulted your hair, Hen?” William began to chuckle—until he looked slightly up, and noticed the stage.

The smile disappeared from William’s face instantly. His posture straightened.
“What the hell is that!”

Henry won’t look William in the eyes. Can’t.
On the huge stage was one blue milk crate. With two broken mops stabbed through it, foam fingers, and giant googly eyes, taped on.
“They specifically paid extra for an animatronic.” Henry said apologetically, as if that would help.

William sees red. “What the fuck did you do?”

Henry puts his head in his hands, shoulders caving in, distraught. “We have nothing available! That is it. I did my best.”

William kicks the counter angrily, seething, making Henry jump. “What do you mean, that’s it? You did bloody nothing!”

William storms a few steps away, muttering through clenched teeth. The disco lights flicker red and green across his face. He breathes hard, tie crooked, jaw tight.

Henry watches tensely, silently.
After a few moments William walks back, his tie crooked. He doesn’t even flinch when a dancing light shines directly in his eyes as he stalks towards henry. “Are you saying all five of YOUR animatronics are completely broken?”

Henry nods weakly, trembling. “Yes.”

William openly glares at his coworker. “So you settled for that disgraceful exuse for entertainment?”

Henry looked up at William defensively. “I don’t know what wrong with the animatronics. Besides, the crate made the kids laugh!”

William scoffs. “Yes, and I’m sure their parents will never bring them back again.”

William looks out over the restaurant. “We need quality entertainment, Henry. Returning customers.”

“Animatronics are too expensive.” Henry snaps.

“I started doing this a decade before you!” William cuts him off, voice sharp enough to slice through the static-filled music. “I’m not here to make a quick buck and run before the tax man calls!”

“What are you trying to say, William?” The lights sweep across them — purple, then white, then blood-red.

“It’s not my fault you’re cheap,” William says slowly. “And it’s not my fault your creations can’t keep up.” He leans forward menacingly. “Unlike mine.”

“Last time I checked,” Henry bites out, “I wasn’t the one whose business went bankrupt.”

Silence.

William’s eye twitches.

Then he turns sharply, muttering something that the music swallows whole, before storming through the employee only door, abandoning his child’s toy beside Henry.

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Everything Is Well, Mr. A
— — — — — —

It took a few minutes, but eventually Henry dared to follow William through the employee door. Plush bear in hand.
An cold shiver ran up his spine.
Following the tall man felt like a death sentence sometimes. A trap of some sort.
He couldn’t explain it.

The employee area is a tight squeeze.
Due to the precariously stacked cardboard boxes lined the hall, all the way up to the already waterlogged ceiling, and always an inch or two away from your face.
Narrow enough that even a child would have to carefully scoot around corners.
It felt more like a maze than a single hallway. Complete with dead ends.
Employees had been sent home more than once after claustrophobia-induced panic attacks.

The air was stale, filled with fryer oil, leaking refrigerator coolant, and the heavy scents of spilled cleaning products.

In William’s opinion, it was never his problem to fix. Always “Henry’s mistake” or “Henry’s mess” he’d called it.
The only thing William reliably helped, the thing he would always come running to help with, with was exactly what was waiting in the makeshift workshop in the far back.

Half-security office, half-workbench, the closet-sized room was perfect.

But the man sitting inside was not perfect… nor happy.

The air shifted to frigid as soon as Henry stepped through the doorway. The fan on full blast in the corner.
The hum of machines swallowed room, wires hanging from the ceiling, swaying, like vines.

William sat hunched over the bench, shoulders tense, one hand gripping the edge of the table, the other rifling through the drawers.

He doesn’t look up as Henry walks in. His focus solely on the slumped, and twitching, animatronic chicken on the table. Small sparks bursting from it.

“This—what even happened?”

Henry sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “What do you think?”

Silence.
William runs a hand down his face.

“I’ll have Micheal tell his groupies to stop.”

Henry shook his head immediately. “I don’t think Mikey had anything to do wi—“

William turns to look at Henry, eyes dark, expression more serious than he’d seen in.. well ever. “No, Emily. Micheal will have sway. He will obey me.”

Henry takes a cautious step forward and places his hand on William’s shoulder, which the other man doesn’t seem to register. “They came at night. After close. Micheal—He just can’t do that.”

William turns back toward the animatronic, scooting his chair closer. “This animatronic is shit. I mean it smells like—what exactly does this run on?”

Afton wrestles the chicken forward so he can look at the thin rubber pipes coming out of the back of her neck. It’s filled with a dark liquid.

Their eyes meet.
“We agreed to make them exclusively electronic,” William says, tensely.

Henry swallows hard, glancing at the stuttering security monitors instead.
A bead of sweat slips down his temple.
“Did we?”

The sound of the chair scraping back is sudden, violent. The metal legs shriek against the tile floor.
William rises in one smooth, too-fast motion. The chair spins, hitting the floor with a sharp crack.

He grabs Henry shirt collar harshly, glaring hatefully.
They both freeze. Startled.

The silence is unbearable.

William exhales, slow, releasing Henry.
He reaches past him to grab the Fredbear Plush by the neck.

——— /// —~— /// —~~— //~^~\\\ ———
> apologies, Mr. Afton.
> there was a glitch in the system.
REBOOTING…
SKIPPING TO BETTER QUALITY FOOTAGE…
— — — — — —

The Afton family drowsily rolls out of the car.
The night is still, and cold, and dark.
So dark that you can see the stars
But no one is looking tonight.

The kids drag their feet all the way up the black driveway.
By the door, Elizabeth loses her balance.
William immediately pulls her tight against his side as he struggles to unlock the heavy front door.

With a creaking groan the door opens, revealing a black void inside.

Micheal is the first to enter, reaching around the doorframe to flick on the yellow lamp.

Not long after everyone files in, moving on autopilot. Both stiff and stumbling.
More robotic than human.

The younger children immediately retire to their bedrooms, to pass out on their beds.

Micheal is about to follow them, when he notices his father is not.

“Father?” Micheal asks, confused.
The man stumbles through an open doorway, into the source of the eternal metallic scent that covered every surface of the house.
The garage. Or.. well, William’s workshop.

William doesn’t even turn on a light, he just uses the faint bleeding yellow from the living room.
Rifling through one of the many boxes of metal parts and pieces littered on the floor.

The patriarch would never say it out loud, but his work became significantly easier after the divorce, once his ex-partner has taken her share. There was just more… space now. At least that’s how he preferred to see it.

His eldest slowly steps back the threshold, blocking the light.
“Dad.. it’s late for this. Isn’t it?”

William shrugs, taking hold of a long folded piece of pink metal out from the pile. Micheal covers his ears to block out the shrieking as the metal is slowly pulled out.

“I must.” Is what William Afton responds with.

The boy tilts his head in further confusion, watching as his father sits at the desk, his work completely unbothered by the nearly complete darkness. “What?” The child says.

“God damn it.” William groans out, barely audible. Exhausted beyond sanity. “I hope it kills him.” A yawn.

“I… I need to kill him.”

Chapter Text

REBOOTING SYSTEMS…

INSERT TAPE NOW
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INSERT TAPE NOW
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INSERT TA—
— THANK YOU!

UPLOADING…

ACCESS TERMINAL: VHS_PLAYER_AH
TAPE NAME: 03 PROJECT COLLECTION PT2
VERIFY AUTHENTICATION:
password: ####

…ACCESS GRANTED

5 FILES FOUND — PERMISSION TO ACCESS?
PROCEED / SHUT DOWN

DIRECTORY : SELECTION
> File 1: CAM-FT01
> File 2: CAM-F3
> File 3: CAM-F3
> File 4: CAM-FT01
> File 5: CAM-F3
> File 6: CAM-F01

Chapter Text

DEVICE: CAM-F3
STATUS: ACTIVE — FUNCTIONING
BATTERY: 4%
RECORDINGS FOUND — CONTINUE?
> Y / N
CAM-F3: TAPE #3366
AUDIO QUALITY: HIGH
> Enable / Disable
VIDEO QUALITY: HIGH
> Enable / Disable
DATE: ##/##/1980
SELECTIONS VERIFIED — CONTINUE?
> Y / N
INITIALIZING FOOTAGE…
…
Of Couse, Mr. A
— — — — — —

Three hushed voices whisper excitedly in the dark.
Well, not complete darkness.
A warm yellow light from the kitchen bled across the walls, just barely reaching beyond the kitchen door.
And the television was on in the living room, illuminating the Afton children in jittering silver static.
But outside those two things, the house was pitch dark, as their father preferred it. Not that he was home… yet.

Micheal layed strewn over the couch, a hot bowl gripped in his hands like something precious. His legs were being shoved by his younger siblings. “Mikey! Get your fucking foot off my face!” Elizabeth screams from the corner cushion of the couch. “Woah, Liz! Don’t crack your mask too fast, you’ll crack your face.” Micheal says, smirking, and refusing to move. Liz harshly shoves her brother’s leg off the couch, glaring daggers at him.
“You can’t crack your face.” the youngest Afton whispers from where he’s crouched under the coffee table, hiding from the chaos.
Micheal’s eyes immediately snap over to the coffee table and his smirk goes wicked. “Oh yeah? Then how did Dad get that scar on his cheek, hmm?”
The wide-eyed Afton boy opens his mouth to speak but pauses, slack-jawed as his fails to find a retort. So, he goes quiet once again, causing his siblings to ignore him, once again.

Both Micheal & Elizabeth grab couch cushions, raising above their heads, preparing for the war of a lifetime, but then…
Burning headlights slowly sweep over the the living room like a searchlight. The three children instantly freeze in place.

The slow methodical footsteps draw closer.
The house is so quiet that the jingling of keys can be heard through the front door.

crrrreeEAAAKKK~

The door slowly opens.
The porchlight silhouetting William as he steps inside, his shadow twisting along the carpet floor.
“What are you doing?” the man asks, fingers twitching as he sets his keys down on the bookcase.
Elizabeth drops the cushion, smiling sweetly as she leaning over the back of the couch. “Waiting for you! It’s movie night!”

Silence.
The children stare.

William’s eyes shift, foot tapping. He firmly shuts the front door behind himself, blocking out the light. “Mhm, of course, love.”

Micheal scoff, putting his bowl down on the table. The sound of the heavy ceramic bowl thumping against the wooden table pulls an involuntary flinch out of William, immediately turning on his eldest. “Micheal, stop that!” William snaps.
Micheal flinches at the tone. “I didn’t do—“
William interjects “You know what you did! You—.. you know. You—…” William bites his lip and presses his fist firmly against his mouth.
The man immediately escapes into the garage, leaving his children back in the dark.

The youngest turns to his older siblings. “What happened to dad?”

Chapter Text

DEVICE: CAM-FT01
STATUS: ACTIVE — FUNCTIONING
BATTERY: 8%
MIMIC LURE: DISENGAGED — FUNCTIONAL
STORAGE TANK: CLOSED — EMPTY — FUNCTIONAL
BONNIE HAND: ATTACHED — FUNCTIONAL

RECORDINGS FOUND — CONTINUE?
> Y / N
CAM-FT01: TAPE #3365
AUDIO QUALITY: HIGH
> Enable / Disable
VIDEO QUALITY: LOW
> Enable / Disable

DATE: ##/##/1980
SELECTIONS VERIFIED — CONTINUE?
> Y / N
INITIALIZING FOOTAGE…
…
I Understand, Mr. A
— — — — — —

It was an accident.
He didn’t see her.
It was too dark.
He couldn’t see her.
He hadn’t seen her.

William was supposed to replace the headlights.
He knew that when he backed out of the driveway and drove off that night.
He had grumbled under his breath and cursed at not being able to see much. Only blinding snowfall, grey slush, and endless darkness.
Earlier that day William had been taking Micheal out to practice driving. The boy was a tad too young, but so what?
…
Micheal hit multiple mailboxes and shattered the glass on both headlights.

Still, William was not a man to ever postpone a plan.
He dragged the pink-and-white metal monstrosity through the snow-covered driveway, black boot crunching through the undisturbed silver sheet. The stone cold creature’s jaw hung and lolled useless as it was shoved into a back passenger seat of the car. His back had started aching from the moment he hauled the giant bear’s arm over his shoulder. But no matter. It would not deter him.

Nothing would.

Henry would see this new Freddy design and immediately agree that electronic-only animatronics was the future.

It even had a storage space for undesirable tools. Imagine that! No more scrambling for a toolbox. Not to mention the other amazing features.

That’s where William’s mind was when he turned off the main road. Looping endlessly over the shocked expression Henry would surely have as the other man’s eyes inspected William’s craftsmanship.
William wouldn’t stop thinking about it all.

How perfect this all was.
How tonight would change everything.
How Henry would never be the same.
How he himself would finally defeat Henry.

The road up to Freddy’s was straight as a pin. Purposefully built at a dead end.
Only trees, and a single rundown gas station nearby.
So easy to speed, if you weren’t paying attention.

The cold wind whipped past the car as it sped up.
William’s eyes focused on the Freddy’s sign up ahead. His heart beating like a drum in his chest. Adrenaline pumping through him even before he got into the parking lot.

The trees blew and shook in the wind, almost like a warning, like they knew, as the purple car zipped past.
William didn’t realize how insistently he was pressing on the gas pedal. He hadn’t looked.

Had she known?
Maybe she had recognized his car.

She was only a little girl.

William’s car screeched as he spun into the parking lot, spraying slush across the sidewalk.
The sound punching William out of his haze.

But it was too late.

A tiny blur of brown and green darterd forward, into William’s view.

Right in front of the car.
William slammed on the break immediately, the animatronic in the back seat lunging forward from the force of it, it’s face lodging between the front head rests, scaring the shit out of William.

He didn’t stop fast enough. He couldn’t.
“FUUUCCKK!!!” William screamed as he barreled through the child.

Her body slamming against the front of the car, a loud CRACK resonating into William’s soul as her skull immediately caved in, before she bounced off, hitting the pavement with a thump, then finally fully crushed as the low car dragged over her, pulling her dead body along. Until William was able to fully stop the car, by the dumpster.

William stared blankly ahead of him for a long moment, eyes wide, gasping for air. His was shaking violently. Hyperventilating, his vision blurring.

Should he get out of the car?
They were absolutely dead.
Should he still check?
Who was that?

Slowly William opened the car door and got out, wobbling like a fawn in headlights.
The smell of blood was overwhelming to William. Oh god, he didn’t see her.

William placed both shivering hands on the car to support himself as he stumbled towards the trunk, where he was met with the worst possible sight.
It was Charlotte, no doubt in William’s mind about it.
Henry’s daughter. His only kid.
She had spent a weekend with the Aftons only a few days prior.
She had told William that the front door kept locking people out.
He had promised to fix it.
And now she was dead. Because of him.

Oh shit.

Behind him William heard the front door creak as it was slowly pushed open.
He didn’t check to see what was behind him.
Fuck this, fuck Funtime Freddy, William needed to get out of here.
He practically leapt back into the car, fumbling so badly with the seatbelt that he just gave up. Backing out of the parking lot and driving away just as fast as he had entered.
This time on purpose.
Blood staining and dripping down the hood of his car.
He didn’t want to look at it.

Maybe he should’ve hidden her body.
He could go back.
No evidence that way.
Inside Freddy’s storage tank perhaps?

Oh fuck no!
What was he thinking?!
Why would he consider something like that?!

Besides, there’s no fingerprints on the car. He cleans it daily.
Shit! No, stop thinking!

He needed to get home.
His kids were probably home by now.
Oh god.
His kids.

Chapter Text

DEVICE: CAM-FT01
STATUS: ACTIVE — FUNCTIONING
BATTERY: 9%
MIMIC LURE: UNKNOWN
STORAGE TANK: UNKNOWN
BONNIE HAND: UNKNOWN
RECORDINGS FOUND — CONTINUE?
> Y / N
CAM-FT01: TAPE #3320
AUDIO QUALITY: LOW
> Enable / Disable
VIDEO QUALITY: LOW
> Enable / Disable
DATE: ##/##/1980
SELECTIONS VERIFIED — CONTINUE?
> Y / N

INITIALIZING FOOTAGE…
…
Congratulations, Mr. A
— — — — — —

The garage was colder than a crypt.
William liked his home best that way.
But he had learned early on that children did not, especially not his children.
That’s why they weren’t supposed to be into the garage. Well, also because of the many dangers in garage, for such little hands.

William also liked it dark. A trait he endlessly attempted to train into his kids; only succeeding thus far with his daughter. The house was always dark. No overheard lights, and only sparse few lamps.
The garage was even darker. No windows and sunlight to ruin his comfortable, black, silken peace.

No squirming hands tugging on his sleeves, no blinding sunlight obstructing the view of his work, no suffocating heat to tire him. The garage was perfect for his workshop.

It just needs to stay this way.
He can do that.

The man sat at his heavy wooden table, barely visible under the tiny workshop light.
In front of him sat a large white bear head and tangled pile of wires. William was pretty sure there was also an eye somewhere in the mess. This was his current project. His largest project yet. The ‘chaos group’ was what he was calling it, for now. Until he finds the right theme. It was going to be alot of characters, and alot of work.
He couldn’t wait to start.

But first.

William glared at the small screen at the corner of the desk. The colorless footage shaky and glitchy but clear enough.
Enough to see what was happening through the eyes remotely attached to the feed.
Of course the damn boy does this now.
William shoves himself away from his desk, rolling his chair over to the door leading to the living room, and rips it open.
“MICHEAL, STOP THAT! Come here!” He yells out into the warm darkness beyond the door.

Instantly william heard a flurry of footsteps rush through the house.
William can’t help but tense, slightly. Part of him feels the desire to slam the door, as the auick footsteps rattled the room, as if the hidden figure wasn’t just his overly aggressive son.

Suddenly, out from the dark lunges Micheal, bracing both hands on the doorframe, illuminated by the tiny lamp on the desk. “Oh my god, WHAT, Dad?!”

The patriarch doesn’t look up, but an eyebrow is raised. “Mind saying that in a way that isn’t rude?”

The boy snorts “Not happening, old man.”

William rolls back to his desk, back to the disjointed metal mess. “Stop scaring your brother.” He mutters, almost disinterestedly.
The teen rolls his eyes and leans heavily against the doorframe. William’s nails rhythmically, slowly, tap against the desk. He refusing to look up from his work again.
“If you make him unable to sleep,” he adds pointedly, “I’m not paying you.”

Mike takes a step into the garage, mouth agape, “you told me to—“ the man interrupts “—yes, Micheal. But did I tell you to traumatize him?”

The boy blinks in confusion, caught completely off guard by the question, scanning his father’s face for a clue that wasn’t there. “What’s the difference?”

Thus time it’s the father who rolls his eyes. Then jabs a long finger back to the door. “Just go. And be quiet until bed.”

And so Micheal slinks off, melting back into the darkness of the house.

But it’s only a few minutes of William working in peace until…

Elizabeth appears next to the desk. Silent.
She perches her elbows on the table, causing William to nudge her off with his own. “Not now, darling.”
“Another Freddy?” She asks, chin propped up in her palms.
William perked up, turning to his daughter. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve made, like, so many bears” she explains.
William considers before speaking. “Three is not many.”
“It’s too many.” She insists, whining. William chuckles warmly. “My sweetheart, the company is named after one.” The girl shrugs and pokes her father’s shoulder, “So? Why not make something better?”
William attempts to shoo her away, “Hmpf, of course.”
She pokes him once again. “Will you make one like me?”

That gives him pause.

He puts the schematics down and turns to fully face Elizabeth, looming over her. “Ahh, so that’s what this is about.”
Elizabeth leans forward, her eyes wide and pleading. Desperate. “Puh-LEASE!! Please daddy! Pretty please!”
The man smiles and runs a hand through her hair. “Will you leave me be?”
Immediately she jumps up in excitement, “Yes!”
William shakes his head in exaggerated defeat and sighs, “Then yes, of course, my angel. Of course I will.”

Elizabeth triumphantly saunters back out of the garage door. She isn’t even a foot past the threshold when… a tiny figure skitters around her and lunges under William’s desk.

Two down, one more to go.
William groans as he moves to sit on the floor beside the desk.
It was never a good sign when his youngest willingly chose to come into his workshop.

Chapter Text

DEVICE: CAM-F3
STATUS: ACTIVE — FUNCTIONING
BATTERY: 2%
RECORDINGS FOUND — CONTINUE?
> Y / N
CAM-F3: TAPE #3342
AUDIO QUALITY: HIGH
> Enable / Disable
VIDEO QUALITY: HIGH
> Enable / Disable
DATE: ##/##/1980
SELECTIONS VERIFIED — CONTINUE?
> Y / N
INITIALIZING FOOTAGE…
…
We look forward to you, Mr. A
— — — — — —

The spinning rainbow lights were blinding.
The music blared just above painful.
The floor just sticky enough to be annoying.
And customers were just spatially unaware, and careless, enough to make William’s whole body clench.

The man could feel his sanity hanging on by a singular thread.
Saterdays were just the worst.

And he hated this damn suit.

It was stiff, and pressed against his joints painfully. The only decent part of Spring Bonnie was how good his vision was inside, compared to the other working walk-around costume they had at the moment, Fredbear.
Although, considering how overstimulating the restaurant was, maybe he should’ve put on the yellow bear instead.

Suddenly William is knocked into by some stupid hyper kid, face covered in pizza sauce. The man trips on the oversized bunny feet, landing face first onto the floor.
The parties keeps going.
Children keep laughing.

William is about to rip the sweaty mascot head off himself and start yelling, when he feels someone start helping him up. Stumbling to his feet he glances down.

“Geez, Dad, you alright? That must’ve hurt, damn.” Micheal says, unable to hide the laughter bubbling up his throat. William tilted his head and rolled his neck in an exaggerated form of an eye roll, within the giant foam suit. “Manners, we’re in public.” Micheal immediately scoffed and let go of his father’s arm, immediately shoving his arm into his pockets. “Yeah right. We’re at your damn restaurant, you gonna kick me out?”
William lifts the mask slightly off his face, holding it to his forehead. “Don’t tempt me.”

The mask lowers once again, and Spring Bonnie ruffles Mike’s hair, before moving to walk away. Mike frowns, clutching his father’s wrist under the thick golden suit. “Wait, I need you. to help me.”
William frowns underneath the mask, immediately alert and scanning his son for injuries. Mike shakes his head. “No. The kids locked themselves outside. With her.”
The man rolls his eyes.

Chapter Text

DEVICE: CAM-F3
STATUS: ACTIVE — FUNCTIONING
BATTERY: 99%
RECORDINGS FOUND — CONTINUE?
> Y / N
CAM-F3: TAPE #3344
AUDIO QUALITY: HIGH
> Enable / Disable
VIDEO QUALITY: MEDIUM
> Enable / Disable
DATE: ##/##/1980
SELECTIONS VERIFIED — CONTINUE?
> Y / N
INITIALIZING FOOTAGE…
…
We understand, Mr. A
— — — — — —

The back room door slammed shut behind William like a trap. Like a cold metal jaw clamping shut. Something final. Another problem to fix.
One more thing falling apart with the rest of this rotting palace of grease and worthless noise.

The room is quiet, solitary, but the blaring music and sharp sounds of laughter bang against the walls like a drum set.
A calmer place, yet still cursed with echoes.

It doesn’t take long for William to slip off the suit. Yellow plush flesh sliding off, revealing a crisp purple shirt and slacks underneath.
The suit practically deflated as it crumbled to the greasy tiles underfoot.
Lifeless and worthless, without the man controlling it.

But still… existing. He would always hate that.
How things, people, will always continue deteriorating, rotting, regardless of how much time he spent on them.

Everyone knew Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza wasn’t doing well, something was always broken or breaking.
Henry claimed it added charm, the idiot salesman.

What if someone learned that their front door was locking on its own? Locking children out.
If Henry realized.
Bile rose up his throat, hot and bitter, burning behind his teeth. William could hardly stomach the thought.

Still, there were things to do, so William steeled himself, and pushed back out into the neon cacophony.
The shift hit him like a car crash. The difference practically choking the air from his lungs.
The bright arcade screens, the disco lights and rotating spotlights, the tinny music, the voices, shrieks and laughter. It was painful.
William would enjoy stepping outside.

He stalked past the prize counter, through a bumbling group of kids, around an exhausted mother slumped against a wall like a shattered marionette.

William glanced out the window as he approached the front door, expecting three heads, Charlie & his own two…
But seeing four.
“Oh… wonderful.” William growled out, straightening his shift collar and cuffs harshly.

The tall man pushes his shoulder against the cold metal door, letting a frigid breeze in.
Poking his head out, the man prepares to pull the children inside.
Only, there’s no one there.
The sidewalk, empty, only a tiny messy trail of footsteps as evidence that he wasn’t crazy.

He glared down hatefully at the footprints. His children wouldn’t have done that.
His children know better than this.
They knew the rules.

They did.

Snow crunched and collapsed under his steps as he followed the trail, giving up below his colder fury, as the father stalks forward, face twisted with barely controlled fury.

It was bloody cold.

Who the fuck took HIS kids?

He paced through the busy parking lot, smashing through slush, grey water leaping up in angry spatters.

Wherever they were hiding, they better be ready.

And then…
Laughter.
Distant laughter.

William’s neck snapped towards the sound, like a wolf smelling blood.

Around the back of the building, right beside the employee door, huddled four tiny figures in the last fluffy snowbank.
Blonde. Redhead. Brunette. And the last, with long pigtails blacker as ink.

They didn’t notice the man approaching.
Until suddenly, one did.

The black haired girl stood suddenly, staring William down with a gaze colder than the snow.
Like she knew him, somehow.

William sighs into the air, a long puff of air floating up like smoke from his lungs.

“Children.” He said coldly.

That was all it took for Elizabeth and his youngest to stand up, immediately running up to hug him.
He didn’t move to hug back.

His eyes were trained on the stranger.
And she was equally as trained on him.

Charlie, eyes bright and smile too wide for the cold air, spoke. “Uncle William, you came to save us!” She toppled back into the snow with a delighted squeal.

William nodded slightly, still not taking his eyes off the new figure.
She wasn’t abnormal, just another little girl.
It was just the way her looked at him. The darkest eyes he’d ever seen, and the cold face of a woman thrice her age.
Like her instincts saw something inside William… something he didn’t even know yet.

It upset him immensely somehow.

He stiffened under the pressure, but still forced a charming smile, reaching over his children, looming forward to offer a hand.
“And who are you, my dear?”

She doesn’t glance at his hand, doesn’t reach out to him. Her blank expression barely changing, her mouth barely moving, yet her first words as sharp as ice.

“Cassidy. Let us inside already.”

Chapter Text

DEVICE: CAM-FF01

STATUS: ACTIVE — FUNCTIONING

BATTERY: 99%

RECORDINGS FOUND — CONTINUE?

> Y / N

CAM-F3: TAPE #3722

AUDIO QUALITY: HIGH

> Enable / Disable

VIDEO QUALITY: HIGH

> Enable / Disable

DATE: ##/##/1980

SELECTIONS VERIFIED — CONTINUE?

> Y / N

INITIALIZING FOOTAGE…

…
We see, Mr. A
— — — — — —

The restaurant was quiet.
The employees had left hours ago, dragging their feet in exhaustion.
Even the lights seem to be dimmer and slower.
Like a parent moments away from passing out.
It should’ve been peaceful, a sign of a successful day. The time for management to count quarters and celebrate.
But this quiet wasn’t peaceful…

It was the quiet found in morgues and funerals. Frigidly intense and heavy. The kind people tried to ignore, hoping that would prevent it from noticing them.

But it would… someday.

And William could practically feel its breath down his spine.

Henry sat slumped over a table near the center of the room, face pressed into a cheap plastic tablecloth. His shoulders shook, small and uneven, like he was trying to stay silent.
William slowly walked up to him, with an air of annoyance.
“You didn’t do any of the end-of-day reports,” he said flatly, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “You know better. You don’t get to abandon everything because you’re sad.”
Henry’s breath hitched. “What else am I supposed to do?”
William rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Use it to do something useful.” He mutters under his breath “for once”

“I need to grieve.,” the sad man choked, voice muffled. “There’s nothing else I can do until the funeral… it’s on the fifth.”
William exhaled painfully slow. “Yes, I know. You invited me. Twice.”
Henry lifted his head just enough for William to see his face, red, blotchy, and ruined. They lock eyes and William grimaced. Henry’s state disgusted him.
“Did you find out who did it?” Emily asked. “You’re head of security.”

William froze.
What could he say?

“T-The camera footage was corrupted,” he muttered, distractedly glancing around. Anywhere but his business partner. “It’s gone.”

The sobs that followed from William’s partner, ones that crashes against the dirty walls…. it should’ve gotten a response.

But it didn’t.

Chapter Text

I am firmly stuck at the moment.

I do want to continue this but I am firmly in a writers block and have been for a while. But strangely enough it’s only a writer’s block for this series. I have a few series I write just for myself, on occasion.

My plan is to back off from this project and continue it once I am able.
I have all the plans laid out already so I’ll be able to jump in once I can.

In the meantime I still want to practice writing for an audience.
Stuff outside of game/tv/film fandoms, original stuff that is still in the domestic horror sphere.

If anyobe has any ideas, let me know.