#fnaf sb showtime | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr is used by 21% of adults online aged 18-29 years.

phrogggslayer · 11 months

Text

🏳️‍🌈Happy Pride!🏳️‍⚧️

I felt bad for Roxy and Chica in the FNAF Ruin trailer, so I had to draw the girls having a good time 🥰

Chica is demi + pan; Roxy is a trans lesbian! 💗

501 notes · View notes

thestardustprince · 8 months

Text

Showtime!Sun and Moon

AKA Mr. Sunshine and Mr. Nightlight

An AU I made up randomly. The two are more like performers rather than daycare attendants.

Sun will do little plays, crafts, and even play games with the younger audiences. Moon also prefers children but he is less hands on as he stays on staged doing basic Magic tricks and stunts

#fnaf moon #fnaf sun #fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #security breach daycare attendant #security breach #fnaf sb #sb daycare attendant #daycare attendant #fnaf dca #dca au #Sun au #moon au #Showtime AU

13 notes · View notes

eggs-can-draw · 2 years

Photo

omg is that a character for Art Fight holy bees on my tumblr you would never guess omg what a surprise omg this is so crazy omg im so amazed omg you should click the link below omg that would be so crazy omg you would never believe what would happen if you clicked the link below the reference for this character who had a reference made purely for art fight omg you would never guess omg it’s just so quirky

showtime-marionette

13 notes · View notes

star-going-supernova · 1 year

Text

Okay, so this originally was going to be the author's note for the fic I'm planning to post tomorrow, where I kind of explain my thought process for how and why I wrote the fic. But it got way too long for an author's note very fast, so I'm sharing it here and now for anyone who's interested in my reasoning.

It's mostly just my thoughts/opinions mixed in with some frustration over missing plot points, assuming I haven't somehow missed the answers to my questions, lol.

Basically, a few nights ago, I found a notes doc full of questions I had after watching an SB play-through for the first time and was reminded of the below exchange between Gregory and Freddy right at the beginning and the many questions I had about it.

“I-I’m Gregory.”

“Gregory. I will notify the main office. Huh, connection error. I cannot connect to the main network.”

“It’s her. She cut you off. She’s not going to let you call for help until she finds me.”

“Who? Who is looking for you? Your mother?”

“Shh! I hear footsteps.”

“That is the security guard. She can help!”

“No, no, I don’t trust her!”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know who she is, but she’s trying to get me.”

And like, it’s so specific. The way he talks about Vanessa, like he knows for sure he can’t trust her, like they’ve already had an encounter. Especially with the “she’s trying to get me” that’s way more ominous than saying literally anything else. His reaction goes so far beyond “I’m an unattended child in a mall after hours and the security guard is doing her job and trying to find both me and someone to take me off her hands.”

But that’s the logical answer! That he knows he’s not supposed to be there and doesn’t want to get caught! Except this is fnaf! It’s horror! Something has him not disgruntled but scared—which stands out because Gregory doesn’t show much fear in the face of other dangers. And then Vanessa gets weird about it, whether or not you want to cast her as Vanny, when she locks him in a room after a scene that, to me, implies she knocked him out (“Where am I? Look at all this stuff. Freddy? Freddy, are you there?” is what he says when the scene in the lost and found starts. First of all, people who walked somewhere with someone do not look around once they’ve been left alone and start wondering where they are. Not like that. His eye-line also seems lower, like he’s sitting on the floor. Second, when Vanessa starts talking to him through the computer monitors, the way she says everything makes it sound like they haven’t spoken before. So either she knocked him out/he passed out and she left him there or they walked all the way to the lost and found without exchanging even a single word between them and also maybe Gregory’s eyes were closed.), and taunts him.

Infuriatingly enough, it goes nowhere! They barely interact! I’m furious about it!

Besides that, I’m infinitely curious about why Freddy glitches out during the show in the opening. His little HUD flashes, “Warning! Alert! High Threat Level Detected!” before he falls over. Like, what does that mean? What is he seeing? Is this better explained somewhere? Am I missing something? Even if it was just the virus, why does it clearly zoom in on a particular part of the crowd and flash a little person symbol?

And then by all accounts, he just doesn’t remember that happening afterwards and it sounds to me like his memory’s just been rolled back to before the show. “Showtime already?” he says. No! The show happened already! It’s after hours and now there’s a kid hiding inside you (why is Gregory in there? how did he get in there? the questions are just piling up the minute!) who I sure hope wasn’t there the last time you were conscious, Freddy.

If this was literally any other story with a logical plot, something would have happened before the game, something that pissed Vanessa off and spooked Gregory and made Freddy malfunction. And, assuming I haven’t missed them, since they’re not going to give us the answers I’m looking for, I’m writing the missing scene myself.

#just star being star #star's thoughts about stuff #life and times of star

29 notes · View notes

shrapnelstars · 2 years

Text

People keep shitting on the FNaF+ designs and saying that they're too scary looking to be mascots in a kid's arcade, but those designs are only mild exaggerations of what those characters were like in person if you ever went to one of those places. Phisnom got them extremely accurate within the context of a horror game.

While you wouldn't really see any exposed internal parts of the machine, you could catch a glimpse of them from certain angles, and when certain characters would make certain movements. There would also be days when you would go to Chuck E. Cheese, and a character would be down for the day. The show tapes would play out like normal, but a certain character wouldn't move, or would have their head down and eyes closed. As a kid, I remember me and sometimes a friend going up to the stage and shouting for the character to wake up. It would be equal parts funny and disappointing, especially if that character was your favorite.

The designs of the characters were kid friendly, but they weren't made to be super simplistic and hyper marketable like everything is today. THAT'S what leaves them wide open to be unsettling in just the wrong context. They don't have big, bubble shaped heads and giant, colorful, innocent eyes. They are a bit more detailed and have more balanced proportions. They aren't specifically meant to be cute, just fanciful and fun. Banjo bunny! Pirate fox! Cowboy dog! Singing rat! That was the extent of it. So while entertaining, the designs never explicitly communicated the notion of "Drop your defenses now, because this character will never harm you and harbors no ill will" like a cuter character does.

Look below. I'm not saying one is more sinister or one is better than the other. I simply want to point out the difference in design. The updated version on the right was made to be more unambiguously cute and friendly looking, even though the one on the left is already cute and friendly on his own.

But that's just the character himself. They are both wildly different from the animatronic you would see on the stage, which looked like this. (Take STRONG note of Pasqually on the right, as well):

youtube

You can't draw a neat conclusion on that design, especially not in action. The combination of music, voice acting, and official illustrations were supplementary material all around the arcades that sold those robots as cute and harmless. Stripped of that context, you don't exactly know how to feel about them. That's why the curtains always closed on the stage when a song or sketch wasn't playing, and that's also why FNaF has never had a real Showtime or in-universe cartoons (until SB, which was aimed directly at children). Because that's part of the dividing line between them being scary and being cute. The robots sit on the fence until you introduce the context that you would like to apply to them.

The only characters that are actually affected by the "This is too over the top to be for kids" argument are the Nightmares, but they were never meant to actually be in an arcade to begin with, nor are they real designs within the universe. They are representations of how a specific character views those mascots under the lens of his own guilt and remorse.

The Plus designs are excellent because they're ambiguous enough to successfully be viewed differently based on whether or not they are in a cute context, while still being under the master context of a horror game.

#stuff #character design

2 notes · View notes

drunk-on-starlight · 2 years

Note

Previous FNaF gave you an anxiety feeling, principally FNaF 6 and 5. Not to mention that the dark and small offices in the first games gave a claustrophobic feeling. SB has none of that, nor anything that can make up for that.

6 was an anxious game, and 4 was plenty tense, but those were the only games that were actually scary. FnaF on the whole really just...isn't. It's all jumpscare horror, which works once or twice for most of them, but gets old *very* quickly.

Anf SB has plenty of tense areas itself. You have the Warehouse, Fazerblast, Showtime Atrium, Prize Counter. All of those are rather anxiety inducing on their own.

#Misc asks #Fnaf #This is from a few months back but whatever

2 notes · View notes

nebulastarss · 2 years

Text

Things I'm realizing while playing FNAF SB on the PS4

All the people who die before the daycare are literally so impatient. It's... Not hard to avoid Chica there.

There's a sun plushy in the fountain!!! I love it and I'm going to get moon's.

The daycare is soft lock hell. I kept distracting sun to go exploring, and you know that circle of blocks shaped like a castle off to the left? Don't fall in there. You can not get out.

Also, I never got to see the crying animation! If sun couldn't find me, he wouldn't even look around. He'd just stand near the blocks and sway. Then, the second I step into a spot he can reach, he runs straight towards me. But if I take a single step back into it, he turns around and goes back.

Moon man. He was... Fine?? I mean. I only saw him once. After I got 3 generators and he went inside, I saw him a level below me in the play structure. Then I got the other 2 like immediately. His section was so short for me.

Leaving was kinda funny. Sun just doesn't appear until you click the button, so you can explore then too. Then I got into Freddy and the second I got to that turnstile, I got kicked out of him and died my first death. I don't count it because that was bullshit.

Couldn't find salads and slides, but I looked and the mission said "below the first floor" so I went down. All I saw was pizza until I noticed ice cream and kept walking that way.

Chica is supposed to interrupt you on the way to salads and slides? I dunno, I heard her voice. Was in the newly charged Freddy tho

I got past mini music man (fuck those vents btw, dark as shit and for why? My brightness is 100% you fucker) and then... There was a FNAF 2 poster? Why? Speaking of bad merchandise, why is there an ennard cut out and plushtrap things. That's so distasteful in universe.

These I was in that boiler room place or whatever, where chica is in there. I got past her (dying twice which I count as my first deaths) and she chased me into pizza bot mini game? Isn't that... Not when you're supposed to do that? I swear that comes later.

I do that shit (barely survived) and go into the kitchen but like... Aren't you supposed to use a party pass before you get there for the first time? Not to mention, the person I watched killed Chica but I swear he never went into the bathrooms. Sadly, I didn't have security level 3, and had to.

This leads into why I dislike Chica the most. She doesn't fucking shut up. If you have a character that shows up as much as Chica and says as much shit as Chica does, you have to give them a fuckton of dialogue to pick from. But now. She recycls the same 5-6 line a billion times and I will feel no goddamn remorse when I finally get to remove her voice box. Seriously, no wonder Gregory goes out of his way to push her in there. She's annoying as fuck /lh.

I don't even hate chica, she's always been interesting to me (a female character who's personality is all about eating and entertainment? Fuck yeah). She's just my least favorite in this game because she's always there and always talking. Followed by Roxy, who shows up less but says like 3 lines. Seriously. Give them more lines. Monty shows up the least and whenever he is there, you hardly even notice him because he's useless (ex: spotlight Monty during showtime. What does he do? Stands.) Monty also has a lot of voice lines, or he shows up so little that the same ones don't get beamed into my brain.

Anyway, I'm still trying to escape the kitchen area with Chica through the bathrooms so. Bye

#fnaf security breach #i love this glitchy mess of a game #its genuinely a good game; i am just easily irritated

4 notes · View notes

charlieslowartsies · 2 years

Note

FNAF Security Breach is getting a DLC

I saw yiss. I texted my girlfriend like "what do they have against me finishing the knight guard au XC"

I hope to play it, but I also gotta redo SB because my game bugged out and I never got past the Showtime disc level because Chica/Roxy kept spawning right behind me lmao.

Maybe it'll end up as a short story after Lies Within!

#who knows?#certainly not the author #answered #knight guard au

6 notes · View notes

skywardsister · 2 years

Text

FNaF SB Fanfic- Boy’s Best Friend

“I’ve already notified the others upstairs- if you run into a young boy in a striped shirt, bring him to me or let me know straight away. He’s trespassing, so you won’t see him on the guest registry,” commanded the blonde security guard. “Got it?”

“Yes, Ms. Vanessa,” replied a brown dog animatronic in a light voice. He looked to be about the woman’s height, perhaps a bit shorter. His long, round ears hung limp at the sides of his head as far as their hinges would allow.

Seemingly satisfied with the robot’s answer, Vanessa stalked away down a hallway and around a corner out of sight. The deep shadows between the distant ceiling lights engulfed her as she disappeared, only the bobbing beam of her flashlight visible for a few seconds. Then, just the woman’s footsteps resounding off of the cement flooring ebbed away. The animatronic was alone again.

It was this way practically ever since he could remember; a few people observed Goody Dog’s functionality after he’d first opened his eyes, celebrated the success of what they’d called a “beta model,” and then left him on his own so they could move onto bigger projects. Those newer plans, the “alphas,” were the top-dogs running parties and showtimes and games galore on the upper floors of the building. The mechanical canine heard muffled electric guitar and drumming many hours of the day, and vibrant posters plastered on the walls advertising the new robotic performers allowed him to imagine their concerts.

Goody’s company was a team of wiry, wheel-bound S.T.A.F.F. bots which patrolled strict regions of each basement floor he could access. They were perfectly capable of speech, yet conversation was not a luxury the dog could ever coax out of them. A few special ones mopped the floors. Goody found an old shaggy mop from a crowded closet and decided to imitate them; perhaps if they had something in common, they might open up. At the very least, the activity was something useful.

The dog didn’t hate many things; it didn’t help his case that he didn’t know anything but life in the basement levels of the facility, but he did know enough to stay far away from one of the sub levels in particular. Once, the dog had found himself lost in those halls, startled by the frequent puffs of steam hissing out of cracked pipes in the walls. Goody had run into the lanky, silent, bug-eyed figures he’d come to understand as the potential endoskeletons to future robots. These silhouettes moved without a sound, operating on pistons and hydraulics. Goody must have had a shorter version of one inside of himself, come to think of it. Those guys usually pushed past him and stared ahead with their steely gazes as if he was an inanimate obstacle in their path. Perhaps they didn’t notice his presence or care.

Goody resumed mopping a specific spot on the floor between his feet; if he kept pressing the fibers hard enough, he might have worn a hole through to the floor below. If he watched the water swirl around, the animatronic could pass the time fairly quickly without paying much attention at all. A new sound interrupted the robot’s routine idle chore, however.

The dog glanced up. Those sounded an awful lot like footsteps. Was Ms. Vanessa coming back to chastise him on something? One of Goody’s ears perked up slightly more than the other. No, these steps were too quiet and quick to be the woman’s, but they were heading nearer by the moment. The hypnotizing figure-eight of Goody’s mop came to a halt.

The footsteps thudded into the room until their owner froze up, staring at the robot who was already standing there. Beyond the white beam of a flashlight directed in Goody’s face paused a short boy in a striped blue shirt, khakis and sneakers. A bandage clung to the skin of his round cheek; big, cautious eyes observed the animatronic from beyond messy brown bangs.

“What the- a dog animatronic?!” Said the boy.

“O-oh!” Goody Dog stammered. “Hey, I heard you’re lost! Let me call our security guard, she’ll know how to help.”

“No,” the boy instantly shouted. “She doesn’t wanna help me, she’s after me! She’s crazy!” The child gripped his flashlight in both hands defensively.

“Huh? After you?” Repeated the animatronic. He cocked his head to one side. If Ms. Vanessa wasn’t assisting the child in exiting the building, what did she want with him? She had seemed quite agitated before when she’d ordered him to be a lookout by her sharp tone and the way she immediately sped off. It was bizarre, to say the least.

“Please,” the boy started to beg, voice wavering. Trembling and standing the way he was, the boy appeared smaller than before, shrinking into himself. “You- you can’t let her find me.”

“Okay,” Goody answered after a moment of hesitation. “I won’t tell her you-”

With a distant click and a dying whine, all of the lights in the vicinity blinked out leaving the human and the robot standing in sheer darkness. Neither of them said a word but both knew that indicated the routine end of the hour. The boy clamped his eyes shut and waited a bit so he could adjust to his surroundings, which always felt somewhat foreign without good sources of light to guide his way.

“Bad children must be punished,” chided a low, raspy voice from up above that caused the boy to clench his entire body and burst into a cold sweat.

“Crap! Have to hide!” The boy whisper-shouted at the dog animatronic.

Goody Dog stepped in front of the child defensively while ushering him backwards, only understanding the child’s fear. Down the hallway through a set of double doors behind them he knew the child could catch the lift up to the stage area aboveground if he ran.

“Mr. Moon, you should go back to the daycare,” Goody Dog suggested in an innocent tone as their wiry pursuer advanced. The daycare attendant sliced through the air, gliding as if swimming thanks to the cable hooked to his back. He didn’t falter whatsoever upon the dog’s words.

“Bad children must be found,” Moon snarled at the boy’s temporary guardian. “Out of my way, Pup.”

The daycare attendants cable detached from his back and he landed on his feet easily before springing forward with his long legs, knocking Goody to the floor with outstretched arms. Both animatronics landed with a loud metallic thunk that jolted the human child to action, snapping into a sprint. Moon growled and attempted to simply crawl past his robotic hindrance but the mutt shoved him back with both hands, sending him staggering for balance.

A glance backwards told Goody that the child made it through to the stage lift during the commotion; great, as long as the dog bought him a few seconds to put more space behind him. Goody relaxed realizing this, but only for the moment he had before his adversary grabbed his arm and yanked. Being much taller than the dog, it was no difficulty for the daycare attendant to drag him around as if leading a disobedient kid.

“What are you doing?” Goody Dog yelped. His attempts to wrestle his arm away were futile; Moon’s fingers were long and slender, enclosing his forearm tightly.

“Bad dog,” Moon hissed, the red glow of his eyes boring into the other animatronic. “You’re no retriever.”

In just a few minutes, the pair reached the Parts and Service area where animatronics could get tested or repaired. At the center of the large room, Moon dragged Goody to a cylindrical, glass and metal chamber furnished with a seat and mechanical rig for repairing animatronics. He keyed something into an idle, nearby computer and pushed Goody inside the chamber, its door sliding to its sealed position. Now, the repair station could not be opened unless someone came along and selected the option on the computer screen beyond the barrier.

“Bad dogs go in kennels until they behave,” Moon growled at his captive before slinking away out of the room.

“Wait!” Goody called out as he watched the other robot exit. “Don’t just… leave me here…” Now what? The dog animatronic circled around his cell, squeezing past the chair in the center in case there was any lever or mechanism to pull in case of an emergency. Nothing.

Goody eventually plopped himself down on the edge of the seat and rested his head in his hands. If that child was still in the building, maybe he could figure out how to free him. That thought only drummed up a pang of guilt. Hopefully his efforts weren’t for naught and that boy was safe somewhere else by now.

FNaF Security Breach is property of Scott Cawthon and Steel Wool Studios, Goody Dog and the story are mine (please don’t use my work without my permission- thanks!)

#myart #skywardsister art #fnaf oc #fnaf #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #fanfic #fanfiction

1 note · View note

joshbruh10x · 8 months

Text

So this one post from @rainbowlilyartist was like hey Fnaf fans should make an outfit based on their fav characters and stuffs for their oc/persona etc.

And so I spent making a Fazcule themed outfit for myself and it just ended up looking like I glamrockified myself or smth idk y'all lmao 💀

IN MY DEFENSE IT'S HARD FUSING THREE DESIGNS FOR ONE OUTFIT-

#so like the design is actually based on my Fazcule's showtime designs (obv)#also i incorporated mlm and poly pins on the shirt to represent these gay idiots bc <3 #i think i couldve done more with the design but brain went blank also i was in class again :>#fnaf sb #joshblogs #glamrock freddy #montgomery gator #glamrock bonnie #fazcule

23 notes · View notes

multiruner-boyo · 3 years

Text

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S: SECURITY BREACH HEADCANNON

This has to do with a MineCraft series by TheFamousFilms and Owtreyalp, sorry FNaF fans lol

After Showtime Steve meets Rockstar Freddy, he prefers to be an arms length away just in case Freddy were to fall ;)

[Comic coming soon..]

#thefamousfilms #owtreyalp #fnaf sb #minecraft roleplay #showtime steve #rockstar freddy #myart

229 notes · View notes

dopytea · 2 years

Text

⛓﹐ : 🛒 𓂃 ¡ #HOOKED ON A FEELING ── fnaf sb ?! 🗯️‹3 𓂃 ˒ ʿʿ ❛ you taste like nectar and salt and apples ❜ 🗝 ﹢を ˒ㅤdrabbles

i featuring ! gender neutral! reader, glamrock! freddy, montgomery gator, glamrock! chica, roxanne wolf, sundrop, moondrop.

ii warnings ! romantic relationship, reader is shy-ish, just tooth-rotting fluff random drabbles with a very small amount of angst ( if you squint ) and ( mutual ) comfort, mention of sleep deprived reader, i don't specified any mental issues, but i do describe readers struggles which could be identified as anxiety.

iii note ! pretty much old works in progress i never finished so i made drabbles instead <3

iv excerpt ! you could get used to this, the asphyxiating sensation of a long day slipping away, other times a laugh to befall your lips despite there's half of his body missing and you are borderline in tears, but all common human sense has gone out the window and died a sad death on the street below before a semi ran over it at full speed and that metaphor got gruesome quick, which means you have been spending too much time around the glamrocks and the glamrocks drama.

freddy loves you.

in a tender (and embarrasing) way you couldn't hate; from the dopey grin, the biggest, happiest wave whenever he sees you from across the room and vivid wiggle of his ears, freddy is evidently smitten.

you already knew, sort of. he wasn't the subtle one, anyways. but you weren't the qui vive type either.

maybe it was easy, you supposed, to pick up on your mood as easy as it was to notice freddy's blue eyes are much more brighter when the light bounces off him. he'll smile at you, sharp canine teeth and soft voice greeting you. maybe he was just overly friendly, with the way he held your hand as though you're the center of the universe-and he's just some random robot bear caught up in your gravitational orbit. maybe you were a little too hooked up in his fondness that it hurts.

how he loves you, did everything he could to hear the sweet bells of your laughter and see your smile. how he hug you every single day, he emanated a sort of warmth that didn't feel artificial despite its source, almost like an embrace that was only second best in comparison to one of the bear's actual hugs. the soft, constant ticking of his inside machinery like a soft lull soothing you into a relaxed, sleepy state.

freddy never let you go home upset, and he always take the time you needed to be comfortable with speaking your thoughts. he knows the way you like your pizza, the music you prefer so he can hum them when you are feeling particulary nasty, your favorite spot on the couch of his green room between the freddie's plushies. he knows everything, doesn't he?

"are you alright, superstar? You seem a little off. shall i escort you to a first-aid station?"

the voice echoes somewhere near inside your skull, and you snap. all hope for sweet words is thrown out the window entirely, blood thrumming through your veins like electricity.

you whip your head up so fast you could feel something cracked uncomfortably to see none other than freddy's soft, glowing blue eyes staring at you with something akin to worry. you hum quietly, slowly dragging your gaze to freddy's chest.

"just peachy" you can hardly settle your nerves. you uneasily inhale and seek resolve, exhaling the timid emotion with a shaken sigh "apparently there's no problem with your system, you can close your tummy now"

you back off, the corners of your lips tremble, quiver and quake, as he lifts up. freddy has the ability to look so grateful to you for his routine maintenance in a way you were lowkey successfully diverted every single time.

your job isn't even that great, really, there's no need to tell me how amazing i am for taking care of you after a kid puked on your cavity chest, frederick, but your heart always welcomed the tenderness of his praises.

"i am... truly sorry, (y / n). it appears it's showtime, but i would hate to leave you by yourself..." freddy's sad voice always makes you feel in a way that suggests you enjoy throwing puppies into traffic, and freddy was a particularly kicked one.

how an animatronic could sound so apologetic about something he is supposed to be programmed to is going to be your biggest question, (was it your fault?), but you don't feel out of place; you wonder if you're supposed too. you wonder it again and again.

"i'm feeling ansty, freddy. i'm not going to die or somethin', s'okay" you suck in a sharp breath when freddy's face went through ten shades of griefs in five seconds at the solely thought of you getting hurt. you were glad he didn't notice the smack at the back of your neck after visiting monty's gator golf.

"still, i fear for your well being. i can stay with you as long as you need to." kind, glowing blue eyes almost looked apologetic, only cementing the gnawing anxiety in your stomach. you chew the insides of your cheeks until it aches.

"would you?" you ask, trying to ignore the continual light shaking of your hands. you choke up as if displayed before a monstrous live audience, mouth dry and throat bobbing.

of course. obviously. you are his exception, to every rule he'd had made for, for every boundary that was so necessary to never cross. he is freddy, who calls you his superstar in such a genuine, proud way that made you feel important, because he always mean it. freddy, who asks about your day but that's neither here nor there when he's looking at you like the moon. freddy, no matter how big and renowned and revered he becomes, he cares for you in every shape and form.

charmed and ensnarled, you made a motion for the bear to lean over, which he obliged, and you hold freddy's face with warm hands, palms burning; hot and clammy as your racing pulse pumps wildly, resting on his cheek as your thumb traces little circles. he sighed of bliss (despite the lack of lungs), fluttering his lids as if his current placement had been an alleviation to any source of his conflicts.

his expression warmed your heart until overwhelmed. rhythmic pattering of his system soothed the ache of your head, your eyes almost closed when he started raking his fingers along your own hands.

you bring your face closer to the bear's face and poked his nose with your own, giggling to yourself at the squeak it sounded out. it's a kind of comfort, a subtle one, for both.

"it's okay. i need to get back to work and you be ready for the kids!" your mind run a mile a minute, but the smile hung from your lips didn't falter. freddy looks a little less torn, still holding concern in his neon blue eyes.

"i'll always be worrying about you, superstar, no matter what..." freddy nuzzles his mouth into your scalp in something you know is a kiss. "but i do trust you. let us meet up as soon as we are able to."

with a fluttering heart drumming within the swell of your chest, you tossed your hands into the air, throwing your head with a breathy laugh.

"sure!"

the animatronic returned his smile as much as he was physically able to, then placed his hands on his knees in order to rise back to his full height. he made eye contact with you in front of him one last time.

"please promise me you'll be safe." his expression visibly softens at the contact, smile mirroring yours

"i will, i will."

with one last fond look, the animatronic headed off to the stage, his loud, clanking walk following him as he went. emotions were fickle things, and only made a person unstable, irrational.

"uh-huh, and by the way, freddy!" you gulp when you find yourself center of his focus once his head turn around, but your gaze harbors riotous determination. maybe you just want to be irrational for once "i love you"

and he absolutely lights up. His smile is so bright it's nearly blinding, the vibrations of his own laugh almost feel like an earthquake shaking up your heart. he wiggles his ears just again, and he opens his arms for you to jump in and tugs you closer so he can feel like you are the only one in the world, his whole universe.

"i love you too, superstar!"

you already know. and you feel so lucky for it.

monty tends to break.

a matter of fact. your mind had stored a quite lengthy recording of your own voice yelling afterwards. ("what do you mean monty lost an arm!?"). the series would repeat until heavy exhales began to breeze past the split of your parted lips.

other times him successfully erecting a melodious laugh to befall your lips despite there's half of his body missing and you are borderline in tears, but all common human sense has gone out the window and died a sad death on the street below before a semi ran over it at full speed and that metaphor got gruesome quick, which means you have been spending too much time around monty and the glamrocks drama.

what else is new, though? other than monty being romantic and, hell, monty being romantic, without even meaning to be.

carries your work stuff as insignificant as it could be, wrap an arm around your shoulder when you're cold, hovers you over his shoulder any time you are feeling tired (theres no need to), let's you cling to his arm (and feels so proud when you do), keeps an eye on you to prevent rude costumers, holds your hands from behind when you're trying to play golf and hit unsuccessfully, he is oh so careful whenever he wants to initiate a kiss and enfolds a hand around your neck and gentle pull in his direction before he lets your lips collide in the tip of his snout.

you know he is romantic even when he thinks he’s being so slick— so smooth doing that. he wants to think he doesn’t look like it much, therefore he’s very much in love with your physical affection. you had fixed monty up with efficient, gentle hands. you'd done it all with a frown and no shortage of eye-rolling, but you'd done it.

but monty is romantic where it counts, too. are the gifts pretty? yeah. do you look good in the monty theme hoody? you look good in everything. he makes time for you after hours. does he still get a little out of control from time to time? yeah, sort of. but that won't stop him from escorting you to the exit with a puppy eye looking and sad flicking of tail because your shifts aren't enough for him.

he's romantic, and it's because he thinks about you all the time. because you run around his mind, looking at him with both eyebrows raised everytime monty abruptly discovers he's staring blankly at you with his mouth partially open and pressing a kiss to the cold metal casing of his jaw for good luck before his performance like he means something. he's romantic because he knows it takes work to keep you almost as much as you know the way he breaks.

even in the non-literal manner.

"somethin' happen" you whispered into the quiet room, silence present and actively eating away at your spoken acclamation "be gentle with yourself, you deserve better."

it could be accurate, considering the place was pitch black, save for the small streams of green light that slipped between the corners of the star beneath you. you hadn't even changed your attire clothes, you couldn't even recall how long you laid on the couch in monty's green room before losing consciousness and after feeling monty's heavy body looming over yours, nestled between your legs with his snout in your chest and close to your heart.

monty is huge, menacing and colossal, he could easily reduce you into a timid clump of cowardice that writhes beneath his hold, but you like it too, the weight of him over you is comforting. he is careful about crushing you, anyways. most of the time.

he growls, your heavy lids fought against the descending motion the soft rumbling that his chest made against your skin. occasionally, you would crack open an eye to peek at the time and perk an ear to listen for any indication he is having a malfunction. just in case. (what do you mean monty lost an arm!?). your gaze travels from high to low, optics seeking a source to distract yourself from the weight of his awaiting stare.

"what do you think i deserve, sweetheart?" his voice box worked without having to move his mouth, but it was muffled through the wires and casing of his body. it makes him sound much more worn out, you guess. and somewhat mocking, in any case.

monty never has efficiently voiced whatever nonsense clutters that tireless cranium of his, but he acknowledges your pain as his own. your lips drawn south, monty drums his hand past your uniform and into the flesh of your waist, shrugging under the cold metal fingers with a gasp. he requires reassurance no more than you.

"c'mon, let me-" you tried to push yourself up using your elbows, but his palms are slide down to snug at your hips with an immovable weight, heavy and pillared, to prevent your escape, as if you though of leaving him.

"you're a little nuisance, aren't ya?" he rambled. spilling whatever random scene were to display beneath his eyelids. you had a sneaking suspicion that he was just about running on autopilot.

hitting your head in the cushions again, your hands meekly settled upon the length of his shoulders, eyes scarcely searching for vibrant hues of crimson, split from his stare whenever he smugly simpered at your expression of coy.

you reach out to the star-shaped sunglasses, but he takes advantage of the opportunity and nestles his snout into the delicate skin of the crook of your neck. it almost makes you giggle. one of his arms wraps around your waist a little tighter while the other skirts around your shoulders to cradle the back of your head. you smell of fresh cotton, vanilla, and mint, and monty can feel his circuits go foggy.

your gazes don't meet- he doesn't want to be seen. he doesn't want you to see him. not right now.

yet you understand why, he doesn't have to tell you, either; because he feels so heavy like this that you can't bring yourself to care, so you keep your lips thinned and sealed, and instead you caress his back and hold him, patronizingly brushing his mohawk back now that it had been messed and was falling.

chica likes to spend time with you.

the idea of it was hard to swallow, that you really and truly cared so much about him. but god, if he didn't crave it. if he didn't yearn for it with every bit now that he finally surrendered to it. it was easier to sink than swim, and you was a pleasant ocean to drown in.

even if that means learning how to play the guitar at two a.m in the middle of your shift.

it doesn't matter that much, really. she (somewhat) always manages to keep you a little longer by her side, apparently for working purposes and oh, vanessa! i saw gregory playing around roxy's raceway again, shouldn't check him out before he gets hurt? is enough excuse so you can dissapear mysteriously for the next hour in chica's green room with chica inside. no one ask, either.

you wonder if it's a sort of agreement with the staff, you wonder how she did it, too; but you can't bring yourself to care when she likes literally taking care of you, as well.

because chica loves the way you beam at her when you notice your favorite snack in her hands when you arrive chica's green room late for her daily checkups, (sometimes they are two in a row).

she loves the way you feel calm enough to relax against her at the end of each day, memorizing the little touches againts your shoulders to comfort you. you never had to talk if you wanted to, she is okay with your warmth.

you never leave chica's place empty-handed. never! she's always got a gift or a surprise for you. sometimes it's as simple as a leftover from a party she essentially cooked for you, a piece of cake, a cupcake, you name it, even when she has to apologise for eat half the cookies. sometimes it's one of her merchandising shirt, one with a her face print on it and she carried a few times so it smells like bubblegum and candy a lil.

she's leaving pieces of herself with you, so they meld easily into your life. little shows of her that not every would notice, but she can and that's what makes her chest swells and knees weeks. that you are starting to blend with her, so clearly marked.

"snoozing again?" chica boops your nose to get your attention, and when you open your eyes and see her staring at you with so much love, you can't help but want to hide from her sight.

humming in response, you begin to strum some random rhythm with the pads of your fingertips along the strings, eyes periodically observing the twinkle of stars before choosing to gaze at chica's purples optics instead.

"what are you looking at?" you ask instead. a questioning look on your adorable face. gods. she wanted to smoosh your face and hold you.

seeing your slight pout, and droopy eyes were adorable, you looked so tired.

she could visualize you in her couch, covering your head with a pillow or plushie to block out the pink light from the hall when he finally entered for bed. How you would grumble at being awoken, but ultimately curl into her chest for the warmth she offered every night. How she would apologize through a kiss on your crown, all while chuckling softly at your grumpy, and exhausted look.

"you look like you need some love." she coos at you and chuckles, her sistems swelling with warmth and happiness as she finds a spot beside you, dropping his guitar down on the bedside table.

"i always look like this." she chuckles, something warm like the feel of the blankets you were burrowed in. you melted into her touch, the contact soothing after he'd been away for so long.

"you are right! you always look pretty and cute!" she concludes looming over you.

she impishly cups your face as to directly draw you near before he playfully tackles you into a brief series of faintly peppered kisses (little pecks that tickle you half of the time). you let her get a few kisses in, pressing them on your grimy cheeks, then your nose, then your chin, until you are gently pushing her away by pressing your palm into the curve of her. cheek.

"you are tickling me" you let a breathless giggle, covering your face with your hands, smile growing by the second, heart beating wildly in your chest.

"oh, you mean like this?" optics of sterling purple glint with mischief as her fingers spontaneously wiggle along your quivering sides in an effort to extract the echo of a laugh from your lips.

you could get used to this, the asphyxiating sensation of a long, hard day at work rolling away with the mere laugh of chica's voice box over you.

who greedily clutches and detains your antsy frolic by cleaving a palm to the small of your back. who refuses to blink away the lovely sight of your countenance and meticulously etches the mesmerizing taste of your voice into lasting memory

"i-i get it, i get it! stop now!" you squeal. There is a crackling sound from the other end, something like someone choking or several cats with pneumonia. apparently a sound chica loves to hear from you.

chica concludes his ministration with a lingering swipe of his peck, roughly brushing the tip of his own against yours in a child-like eskimo-kiss, sharply when she finishes, as if to signify that she's finished and is now accepting questions.

though you can tell that no such thing is happening, both from the innocent grin she seems to wear and the halfhearted way she's holding you to prevent your fall off the couch. but mostly all you can hear is the rushing of blood past your ears. chica's voice saying you are really cute keeps replaying over and over in your mind.

"there was no need to do that" you manage to reduce your heartrate to something reasonable and non-heart-palpitationy, and she's wearing that fond smile that you are starting to develop adverse feelings towards, for whatever reason.

sweat breaks out along your temple, and you wip at it with the back of your hand.

to your credit, you don't startle. you stand there, feeling wrongfooted and also mildly embarrassed for reasons you can't (and don't want to) verbalize.

"maybe, but i couldn't think in a better way to wake you up" chica says, her tone within striking distance of tender, and you opens his damp eyes to see chicas pulling you closer.

you cling to her stature and draw him impossibly near, grumbling incoherent complaints into her cool skin.

roxy is the best.

everybody knows at this point, even if she beats herself up later.

at first glance, the notion of comparing roxanne wolf to anything that could be described as "peaceful" is ridiculous, dismissible at best. the robot is a supernova of energy and life and ink spills, as well, it seems, as she navigates angrily around the raceway to find something for the black droplets in her hair and somehow manages to look less that a mess.

you send her an unimpressed slate stare when you arrive to her green room for a checkup (read: clean up the ink), though you can feel your heartbeat humming in your chest, tapping out a rhythm against your ribcage.

roxy gives an audible sound of surprise, her eyes flashing with confusion and something akin to embarrassment. her snout opens just a little. probably she wasn't specting you to come along, considering she messed up the race and her appearance. you know her, she hates looking like that, especially if you are there.

you suppress both a sigh and a smirk as roxy growls aloud and glares reproachfully at herself trough the mirror as if the growing mess on the carpet is somehow its fault.

at that, you raise an eyebrow. "do you not require assistance, roxy?" your voice is nothing short of regal, and roxy gapes for a second before she huffs.

"i can do this for my own," she says. her tone is reverent and wondering, and you has to physically clench his teeth to keep from sighing, again.

"it's more easy if we go to parts and service" you say as you take a sit in the couch beside roxy, pulling an embroidered silk handkerchief from the sleeve of your uniform, roxy glances furtively over at you.

she still radiates tireless energy, even as she swipes her own hands over the puddle of ink somewhere in the face and her voice box does a vigorously clicking sound under her breath. Yet somehow, even so, you can feel that she is not mad or angry, is not truly irritated.

she is mad, but only with herself.

in his moment of thought, your fingertips wander and accidentally brush against roxy's hand.

cool.

you almost jumps at the contact, but you are so well trained in the art of masking emotions that you do not so much as flinch. you carrie on steadily cleaning the ink. roxy, however, is an entirely different case.

she jerks, lips parting in question. "what are you playing?" she seems to choke, blinking a few times.

"is there a problem, roxanne?" you asks- quietly, though. you cannot bring yourself to be firm right now, not when you are breathing the same air as roxy and your fingers still remember the coolness of roxy's hand.

yellow eyes bite into you, questions and bewilderment plain in them, but then she just shakes his head and growl.

"nothing, just finish already" the signs might not be all that visible to most people, but to you, they're instantly noticeable.

on her lips were words lost to time as her tongue sat heavy in her mouth, motionless and frozen as she couldn't grasp a retort that were sure to reduce you to a state similar of his own.

you nod and thinks to yourself that roxy really is like a lake, her emotions crystal clear on the surface in a way that belies a complicated, tangled personality. Yet just one tiny pebble, one little act of kindness, can send ripples through her.

you hope you are the only person throwing pebbles into the lake.

there's a certain familiar tightness to roxy's hand as she grips the pillow that has her face printed, the slightest tilt of vast irritation to her eyes when she tries to look the other way. you can read her, all her little burning mannerisms, and you knows at your core, roxy is a raging, smoldering star, sweltering underneath the masks she's been taught are natural.

"it's not your fault, you know. about the raceway" you whisper, almost too low for hear. there's fire there, fire that's almost been smothered, but can be encouraged back to life when occasion calls for it.

it's there, it's real, and you knows it, although he doubts anyone else truly does.

"just a slip, but you did well. everyone loves you, the kids too" you inquire softly, almost gently. she snorts, sort of.

"of course they do, i'm the best! don't tell me you think that get me" she grins, though something falters, sly smile slipping from his cocked smirk of feigned aplomb as her chest palpitated; skipped more than a couple of rhythmic beats.

"nah, but i just feel like remember you-" it's at that moment, when you are thinking of a roxy clad in ink and spiritual pressure, that roxy's hand brushes lightly against her.

warm.

you jump, startled beyond measure, and make a choking sound, as if you didn't seem to have noticed her trailing fingers.

"what?" speechless; at a loss, you suck your bottom lip between your teeths as you clumsily fumbles with your wringing hands.

roxy gawps before she lets a loud chuckle before she sinks into your embrace. roxy weighs you into the mattress, near to leaving you breathless as she knocks you onto your back. she had gasped as if stumbling upon treasure before she clumsily grips at your shoulders with a child's enthusiasm.

"not so tough now, are we?." she snakes her arms around your body and presses even closer, chuckling against your neck when you complain that you can barely breathe with how tight she's holding you.

"that wasn't the point" you stutter inelegantly, and roxy levels her a blank stare of melting ice and thawing snow. you can feel flames beginning to rise in your cheeks, and you swears internally.

you realize you are smiling like an idiot when roxy stifles the chortles and presses her snout in your shoulder, digging his nose into your flushing skin.

she is rolling onto her side to brush her lips across your jaw, onto the hill of your cheek, and behind the lobe of your ear. shr concludes his endeavor with a smile, bliss evident and etching her features. her smile is crooked, lop-sided and hanging, as if she is awed.

you always look like hell. half of the time.

she is okay, this gentle and soft thing, the featherlight feeling of being able to share your pain with someone who's a familiarity, someone who cares.

it is certain, considering that you have to try and survive after every late-night shifts and subsisting on four hours of sleep it's not always enough for your internal clock. you got used to the can of bitterly caffeinated jet fuel masquerading as fizzy faz in one hand.

sundrop is the coffee you need every night.

especially since the woman working alongside sundrop as a helper had turned out to be someone your social relations skills could only describe as unpleasant.

especially since you tried to make her understand her advances were useless, the children don't like her, anyway. first with a few exchanged sentences (she ended up spilling glitter glue to your face and leaving you dripping in the middle of the precinct). then with rather crude gestures of disfavor (which led her to the erroneous assumption that you were somehow envious of her).

it took a long while until you finally snapped and began sabotaging her actively. at some point, it even became more of an amusing pastime that kept your systems sharp and accurate, just like the sundrop's candy that kept annoying moon to no end because you become a hyperactive-mess.

yes, you exchange her perfume and filling the vial with aftershave, programmed her social media to change every single self-portrait into a prerecorded file of sun's choice (“pick rick astley!”), messing up the files of smaller files since she hardly ever occupied herself with them, and was prone to making mistakes subsequently.

yes, they were childish pranks yes, you almost got suspended for a month and yes, "you had to pay compensation for the emotional trauma she went through", but selfishly, you were lowkey proud.

it was the perfect excuse to spend more time near sundrop and his chaotic atmosphere.

there's no one who can brings the light; hangs the stars and moons as if he were not an object of celeste himself other than sundrop. his toothy grin is cheshire, widening and stretching his cheeks as if his elation were uncontainable; contagious.

sundrop gives warm hugs and sways back and forth to make you feel better. every time, without asking. ( apparently he developed a sixth sense when it comes to you. daycare attendant thing. )

its the sort of problem he hates the most because its not one he can solve with his hands.

so he won't bring what upsets you and even avert his gaze from you, but he'll place his hand on yours, softly rubbing his thumb against your knuckles, and that's when you know it will get better.

he always makes sure, in any case. he randomly hugs you when he sees you standing near him. you might be imagining a woman like sundrop's helper to be disheartened by this amount of attention, even if most of it would be considered negative. ( she was strange like that ), when he wraps his arms around you and rocks you side-to-side. it can last seconds, long seconds, until you are giggling and shy, and then he lets you go on with your day as if nothing.

other times he likes to tap to whatever song you're listening to on your body after cleaning up the mess at the daycare, or at least he tries to. the beat is always a little off, too fast or not enough; still, it never fails to bring a soft smile to your lips, especially if he's humming along to it too. sometimes he would brags you to dance along with him.

it's silly, most of the time you two bump into each other, but it never fails to cheer you up.

looking at your bright smile as you laughed at one of his stupid jokes, sundrop can't help but feel grateful that you're in his life.

he's sure the kids at the daycare are grateful as well, even when you say you are not fond of children, as he sees it right now, you're still kneeling down to let the kids put rainbow stickers in your face and doodle with markers (and with glitter highlighters that glown in the dark too ) onto your arms. you're still laughling when you carrie around a little girl like a princess and play with puppets even when you hate getting your hands all sticky from the glue.

a burst of fondness and adoration explodes in his chest, and before he can even think about, sundrop is leaning down to press his face plate to your cheek. is somewhat tender. facial expressions are something he can't make, but you know by the way his faceplate happily turns that he may have the purest expression of his love when he sees you.

your eyes instantaneously descending towards your shoes as you could no longer hold his gape of admiration as he pulls away, and it turns into an embarrassed chuckle when he meets your sleepy eyes and smile.

"i missed you! a lot, a lot, a lot! you’ve been gone so, so long! i was so bored, it’s so boring without you here!” he says in a singsong tone, dragging the last syllable as his finger pokes your cheek.

"i know, duty called" you whisper. which it is a shame, as a night guard you can only see him between breaks and because you had to keep an eye over the helper.

"thank you for helping so wonderfully today! perfect as always!"

he hugs you, carrying you up effortlessly in his arms as he twirled you around; actively wiggles his fingers into the doughy flesh of your midriff as you fail to squirm away. dizzy and laughling.

sundrop can hardly keep himself from giggling along with you, hands carring your body soft and chest swooning as you laugh; seemingly initiating a commencing down of the sun.

his laugh is a breath of fresh air. he is suave and he is charming under this moment of vulnerability, under the split second he bares his heart to you, letting you feel his joy with him as his hand finds its way to yours, holding you as if you were about to shatter.

and you let him, as always. you decided that this is where you'll stayー in sundrops hold, where the heat from his body completely enveloping yours is enough to hush your grief, in which you know you are going to be okay.

in the tiny space you've made for yourself, where you crouched to weep in silence alone, someone has intruded your circle with glitter glue, but it is someone who cares deeply. sundrop knows of your pain, and somehow for now, that is enough.

it's not a matter of fact (as he always says), but you know he lies when he let you sleep five more minutes, or when he strives to leave your knees weak and buckled, inducing your considerably smaller palms to desperately grip at his shoulders as his palms effortlessly laid you down by your hips because just the naughty ones are awake in nap time.

moondrop has a soft spot for you.

and sometimes it gets a little embarrassing. you are pretty sure you don't need to be cradle in moon's arms to rock you back-and-forth like a baby trying to lull you, but he's still enjoy (tease) the way your half-sleep face contorts into a flusttered demeanor, especially whe the children ask why you get to sleep on moon's lap.

the series would repeat until heavy exhales began to breeze past the split of your parted lips

you don't have a choice, though (he makes sure to really tie the blanket around you to prevent your scape). when it's nap time, it's nap time, even for an adult like you.

moondrop knows you need it as much as he need to know you're doing okay, because his obligation is to save you from the cause of your torment; yourself.

he's always subtle, silent; lets his hands communicate for him. moon languidly reaches to brush the tips of his fingers behind your ear, momentarily tucking a lock of hair that would continuously unfold as if to spite him.

drool sheens the parted corner of your mouth, and your hair is akin to the mane of a lion's. you had told him you hate when he keeps staring while your sleep, but he has to admit, the way he's seeing you right now is one of his favorites. his gape is pillared; fixated and immovable from your visage. moon finds himself enthralled with a work of art.

his fingers rouse through your knotted locks, thumb prodding into your temple and stroking soothing lengths into the dimpled flesh as you're muttering incoherent speech, and moon finds himself amused again.

your slumped shoulders no longer quivered a while ago, but the needful grasp of your hands remained adamant as to maintaining a tight clench around his torso. he had sheltered you in his arms, devoid of warmth, his caress is cold. his wintry touch induces an outbreak of goosebumps, but the sensation eases the itch to your body, and the comforting chill is akin to balm.

you have yet to awaken, limbs wildly splayed as your temple nestles snuggly into his neck. moon rests a heavy palm onto your crown, soothingly stroking his palm over your head as you sigh against his metal skin in bliss, already lost to a slumber moon coaxed you.

his thumb trails along your side, and he doesn't hesitate his assault even when you grumble protests from your sleep.

"stop" you mumble, cheeks hollowed and lips ajar "five more minutes." you hardly discern his figure through your lidded gaze, but your skin singes where you maintain contact

hushed snores, faint and distinct, softly rumble beneath the tower of blankets where you sleep. you're snuggled impossibly close, temple pillared atop his chest.

right from the start, you knew moondrop wasn’t one to be overly physically affectionate. it’s not that he hates it or is cold, he simply isn’t used to it.

occasionally, however, he feels the need to be near you. loves the way you immediately step closer into his personal space and squeeze his hand back, not saying anything about this rare display of affection.

he's not easy to love, but he's worth the effort.

he loves so endlessly, with unfiltered promises of something that lasts beyond forever. he pays attention to every last detail, reads in between the finest of prints, his mind is always filled with you, from the bottom to the top, up to the very brim. his eyes miss nothing, and his intuition has honed itself to map you out in every way.

"naughty thing" he says instead and watch, in amazement, your hazy, small smile “we can’t always get what we want" the defensive undertone in his voice almost makes you laugh again. is the same tone that people use when talking to four-year-olds. and a very familiar tone that means he's humoring you.

"but i can, see?" you whisper, with a cheeky grin in your face that tells him you are not sorry at all, before moondrop stabs you in the liver with one of his unreasonably pointy fingers without even looking.

you wheeze before you could stop it. frown on your face, you clutch at your side. you are pretty sure this is what being shot feels like. you try to you punched his shoulder as lightly as possible as you go, but moon dodges you without blinking because he's actually an robot. you huff in complaint.

"do that again and i'm not coming near you" you croak before you manage to sit up ungracefully, forced to bend your legs in a way you're sure no human was meant to attempt.

moon hums in appreciation, because he knows you are lying, so he extends his arms in your direction, and soon you were wrapped in his arms again, leaning into his chest.

the fleeting reaction bridged your skin as if wildfire. your shift starts soon, but neither of you made a move to pull away from where moon protectively caged you. unconsciously pressing his hand on your back were your steadily beating heart is.

moon has the incredible ability to squeeze into any space, as long as you is there.

his actions aren't fast, his hugs not the kind to be quickly dismissed. many of the times he lets you sink into his chest as he holds your waist with his free arm, pulling you as close as he possibly can. he makes sure that when he pulls away; he gets to see that dopey grin on your lips.

he has you, he affirms, right here. moon has no desire to abandon his home in your arms.