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maris-medley · 6 months

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BTC AU ONESHOT: TOUCH-STARVED

Page Count: 10

Word Count: 1,557

Author’s Note:

HEHEHEHEHEGAHAHAHAGA THATS ALL I HAVE TO SAY.

Also sorry it took so long for me to write another one of these, school got real busy and then I lost motivation for a bit there. 🧍‍♀️

But YEAH this is a oneshot told from BTC Springtrap’s pov. :))

Please keep in mind that this is an AU of the AU, Behind the Codes by the amazing @skeletoninthemelonland so PLEASE give them love for their creations 😭💕

Also WARNING nothing super weird happens but like Springtrap whimpers towards the end. TEEHEE.

Also I know Wren seems bland at first but she does that purposefully so TRUST there is more to her, and I will be building on her in later chapters. ☝️🫵

Also I didn’t proofread this cause I got too tired LMAO

When another one came along, Springtrap had a bad feeling that things would only spiral further and further downhill from there. But something about Wren never kept him irritated about it for very long.

She’d woken up Backstage with almost no recollection of her previous life—very similarly in nature to River—and at first, he was admittedly just as aggravated she couldn’t provide answers as he was when River first arrived, if not more so. However, he found himself unusually distracted when speaking with her.

“No, I, ah,” she chuckled awkwardly, throwing in a shrug. “I don’t remember a whole lot... somehow. Sorry.”

Springtrap had begun to work himself up again, rubbing the bridge of his nose and thumping one foot up and down.

When he looked up again though, he widened his eyes at the sight of Wren having taken his free hand in one of hers. She’d pulled out a needle and thread, presumably from her back pocket, and started sewing up one of the holes in his hand.

“Well, it’s no wonder you’re in a bad mood,” she’d said with a soft grin. “If I were this torn up, I’d be pretty irritable myself.”

He stared down at his hand for a moment as she’d begun to sew, but after a few seconds had quickly found himself swiping away from her. But he couldn’t actually think of anything to say to follow his actions up with.

Wren flinched, glancing down at the stray piece of string that still hung from Springtrap’s hand, then back at him, then ended up shoving the spool of thread and the needle back into her pocket while rubbing the back of her neck.

“Ah, sorry! I just wanted to help, but I probably should’ve asked first, huh?”

Springtrap sighed, straightening up. “You’re a rather odd one, you know that?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said grinning.

He nodded his head slightly, not saying another word as he turned and walked off.

Since then, he’d noticed Wren hanging out with the others quite a lot. It certainly didn’t surprise him; she seemed to be nice enough. Almost too much really, if he were being honest. That was why he didn’t go up to her again after their little meeting.

Well, that, and River didn’t appear to like her very much.

Whenever they saw her, River would throw a dirty look in her direction, mumbling something to herself that Springtrap never fully understood, but almost didn’t want to.

That was why, when he saw Wren next, it was because she’d gone to him.

Tom and River were out again—“causing trouble”, Springtrap always assumed—and he stayed back to continue working on one of his projects. Today though, it was merely an excuse; now that he was getting help from River to collect more remnant, he didn’t feel like having to potentially run into Ballora, who would likely just start an argument with him over it.

He knew she would eventually confront him herself anyway, but it just wasn’t something he was willing to put up with yet.

However, he suddenly heard a clashing of metal parts, sounding as if someone had tripped over them. His ears twitched in the direction of the noise, where he abruptly turned to stand up and look.

“Sorry, sorry!” Wren said, gathering herself and the parts she’d knocked over.

Springtrap sighed. Of course it had to be one of the only two people he didn’t want to deal with.

“It’s whatever,” he muttered irritably, shaking his head. “You’re certainly the first around here to clean up your mess without having to be asked, though.”

“Really?” She questioned, carrying an armful of parts. “This stuff is fragile! Nothing’s been knocked around too much, right?”

Springtrap averted his eyes with a scowl.

“Well, anyways,” Wren said, hoping to change the subject, it seemed. “What’re you working on?”

“It’s nothing, really,” he lied. “Just tinkering.”

“Cool! You, uh, wouldn’t mind if I sat in to tinker a little too, right?”

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t mean to intrude or anything,” she shrugged. “Just needed a break from the crowd. Don’t get me wrong, everyone’s pretty nice, but I’m tired today, y’know?”

He understood what she meant, though he was relatively surprised she would choose here to spend her relaxation time. After all, considering how much time she’d already spent with the others, Springtrap was almost certain they’d have cautioned her to keep her distance from him by now. Besides, he didn’t like the crowds either; he wanted to be alone too.

And yet, he somehow couldn’t find it in him to say no to her.

“…I suppose,” he sighed. “Just don’t get too comfortable.”

She beamed, and Springtrap felt an ache in his chest unlike any that came before—but he shook his head and turned away, sitting back down to continue working in silence. He partially hoped that, in doing so, Wren would just grow bored and leave.

She didn’t, though.

She sat on the ground in comfortable silence a few feet away from his desk, surrounded by many spare parts he had no intention of using just yet. Despite the unusually carefree nature she exhibited, Springtrap could tell she knew what she was doing whenever she fiddled with a new piece.

Wren possessed a true passion for this craft.

He found himself envying her for that.

Eventually, Springtrap snapped out of the brief daze he was in, and caught Wren eyeing him.

“What?”

“Sorry,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck with a chuckle. “I just–”

“Why do you keep apologizing?” Springtrap interrupted.

“Oh… I’m- not sure.”

He rolled his eyes. “What were you going to say?”

“Well, it’s just… I mean, I know your fur isn’t super thick or anything; barely visible, actually—but you still look really soft! I was wondering if maybe I could–?”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Springtrap said, instinctively inching away from her slightly. “I don’t like to be touched. So forget it.”

“Oh?” Wren replied, suddenly looking puzzled. “Why’s that? Nobody hurt you or anything, did they?”

“What? No. I just–”

Springtrap scratched his cheek, averting his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business… but it’s more so that I’m sensitive; my servos lock up easily, so I can’t risk anyone creating extra problems.”

“Lemme see.”

Without warning when was walking up, then bending slightly before him to observe the spaces in which his servos lied.

His eyes widened like saucers as his entire body tensed up.

“Hm. They do look like they’d lock easily if you were hit or something, but I doubt you’d get hurt if someone just touched you like… well, like a normal person.”

“How… How can you be so sure?”

“Robotics have always been a special interest of mine,” she said, grinning as she stood up straight. “I won’t make you agree to it obviously, but I promise I won’t damage you if you let me feel your fur! I’m just curious about it, is all!”

Springtrap considered this for a moment, then eventually heaved a deeply exhausted sigh.

“Fine. Make it quick…”

Wren cautiously placed a hand on his head, eyes glistening at the soft texture of the faux fur that coated his body, save for some holes and exposed wiring. As she caressed the fabric, her smile glowed as one who’d just won a new plush toy from the claw machine.

Springtrap froze in place, and rather than his servos locking up, he found himself overheating.

And for once, it didn’t hurt him.

It was a strange feeling—or more accurately, the absence of it was strange—to not feel pain. After all, nearly every move he made was a bother to him. Yet, Wren’s touch brought him warmth, a sense of comfort.

Eventually, he stopped paying attention. He began to crack a grin.

He couldn’t recall when exactly she moved positions, but at some point, he suddenly realized Wren was using both of her hands to caress his cheeks. At first, he hadn’t thought much of it. He couldn’t help but to admire her a little for managing to distract him from the agony he felt day in and day out, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to do it so well.

Her hands were soft too.

He remembered that he was overheating, then glanced down at himself, face unmoving.

Steam was escaping from the holes in his chest.

He didn’t get enough time to think before he let out a soft whimper.

Wren paused.

The two stared at each other, both waiting for the other to say something first.

Springtrap slowly grabbed her hands and moved them away from his face. “You- You should go.”

When he let her hands go, they stayed mid-air for a moment, before she suddenly shook her head and folded them behind her back.

“R-Right.. sorry,” she said as she pivoted toward her only exit.

“Hey.”

She paused. “What is it?”

Springtrap turned his back to her. “Don’t… speak of this—but that was actually sort of helpful.”

He could feel her beaming from behind him.

“Oh! Okay! Well- I’m glad!”

He nodded as he listened to her exit.

When he knew she was gone for certain, he placed a hand over his decayed heart to check if that was what had begun to beat again.

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