op men x reader that gets very clingy when theyre sleepy? like they cling onto them bc it helps them sleep and they need to intertwine their arms and legs w eachother,,, preferably law shanks or zoro but im not picky🌷
Wrapped Around You
Warnings: none
Word Count: 404
Pairing: Rorona Zoro x Reader
crossposted on AO3
The Thousand Sunny rocked gently beneath you, the sea humming its eternal lullaby just outside the crew’s quarters. The night was quiet—save for the occasional creak of wood or Luffy’s distant sleep-mumbling—but your mind was foggy with exhaustion.
You blinked slowly, limbs heavy as you padded your way across the room, blanket half-draped around your shoulders like a cape.
Zoro was already in bed, of course. He always claimed he “just closed his eyes for a second,” but he was dead asleep, arms folded behind his head, snoring lightly, shirt pulled halfway up his toned stomach.
You stared at him blearily.
Too far.
Too far away.
With a tired little whimper, you climbed up onto the bed and flopped onto him—full-body, limbs tangling like you were trying to merge your soul with his.
“Need,” you murmured into his chest, voice muffled and slurred from sleep. “You’re warm. Stay.”
You wiggled until your arms were around his waist and your leg was hooked tightly over his thigh, anchoring yourself to him like a sleepy little koala.
Zoro huffed, lifting his head slightly to look down at you. “…Seriously?”
You didn’t answer. Already halfway out.
He shifted slightly—just a little, enough to let one of his arms slide around your back, and with his other hand he gently pushed your hair away from your face. He was warm too, and tired, and you were soft and smelled nice, and…
“…Tch. Fine. Don’t blame me if you wake up crushed.”
But he wasn’t complaining.
In fact, he slowly turned on his side, adjusting you with him so you were curled tightly in his arms, limbs still knotted together.
Your fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, holding on like letting go might make you drift off into the sea.
And Zoro—Zoro who usually hated clingy stuff, Zoro who grumbled when Luffy touched him and threatened to gut Sanji for bumping into him—Zoro held you even closer.
Because when you were like this—drowsy and soft and needing him—he felt a little more grounded. Like the world didn’t matter outside this room. Like your breathing syncing with his was all the rhythm he needed to sleep.
You murmured something in your sleep. Maybe his name. Maybe just a sigh.
He pressed his face into your hair, inhaling deeply.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, so quietly only the stars outside could hear. “I’ve got you.”
Waiting Drives You Crazy || Springtrap x GN! Reader
summary: you reunite after 30 years
SFW // angsty fluff
word count: 3252
warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, mental health issues including but not limited to anxiety, depression, and thoughts of unaliving, springtrap is smelly af, established relationship, angst, fluff, will is just a bad person lmao
masterlist
a/n: wow my first fic in more than a year,, i really hope that I've still got it!! This story doesn't really connect to crave toooooo muchhh?? but i've still tagged my normal list for crave anyway!! pls lmk if i missed you or you don't want to be tagged in stuff like this! also, this is based off one of my fav fnaf vhs series!! i'll link it here! enjoy!
~~
When they called you saying that they had found William, you spilt your coffee mug all over the kitchen floor.
"What?" Was the only thing that managed to slip past your trembling lips, breathless as if you had been kicked in the chest full-force. And that's what it felt like, honestly, hearing William's name again. Nobody ever talked about him anymore. After what had happened, all that came up about him after his disappearance, it was taboo to even mention him in passing. Let sleeping dogs lie, they said. Leave the demon to his demons.
But a part of you always wondered.
"Yes, you heard me correct." The agent reassured you, and you could hear how he tapped his pen against his notepad on the other end of the line. "We found him, er, we found William. The DNA samples we collected all matched the ones we had on our database. And Michael gave a positive ID."
You fell silent again, your blood feeling as if it were ice in your veins. The room was fuzzy, with a ringing in your ears that you couldn't pinpoint when it began. You stood motionless for a moment before your legs gave out from under you. Your body stumbled to the side, making you fall against your kitchen counter with an oof.
"(Y/N)?" The agent's voice asked, a note of concern in his otherwise flat, professional tone, "Are you alright? Are you still there?"
You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, nodding even though the man on the other line couldn't see.
"Y-Yes, yes, I am." You confirmed, gripping on to your phone tighter. In order to make sure you wouldn't stumble again, you slid down your wooden cabinets to sit on the floor, not caring about your shattered coffee mug and the pool of steaming coffee next to you. "Sorry, I just... I..."
"No worries," the agent replied, seeming to understand you despite not saying a word, "I get that this is a lot to take in. Just, take a few deep breaths, yeah?"
You take his advice and take in a few deep breaths, the quiet moment allowing you to feel just how fast your heart was racing in your chest. You swallowed thickly after composing yourself, hugging your knees close to your chest.
"I-I just... Is he okay? Is Michael okay?"
"Oh, yeah, Michael is fine. William, however..."
The man trailed off, an awkward silence hanging over the air between the two of you. Your impatience got the better of you, and you were the first to speak up.
"What? What's wrong with him?"
Silence again, only broken up by a sigh and the faint sounds of whispers to a colleague you didn't make an effort to discern. You were about to ask the same thing again, only firmer, when the agent finally spoke again, calm enough to make you slightly annoyed.
"We think it might be best for you to come and see for yourself. William's situation is... quite complex. And we're it would do him some good to see you again."
The annoyance you felt slowly faded away into the ether at the offer, your lips parting in surprise.
Come and see for yourself.
Could it really be that easy? Thirty years you spent wondering what happened to William. Searching for any little piece of evidence that might have pointed to where he would have gone. All those nights of tossing and turning, rereading the newspaper articles over and over, booking therapy appointments just to cancel the night before, just to be handed a reunion on a silver platter? If it weren't for the ceramic shard digging in to your heel, you would have thought you were dreaming.
"Uh- O-Of course we understand if you would prefer not to--"
"No. Sorry, n-no, no..." You rasped, only just then realizing that you hadn't said anything, "No, I want to. I definitely want to. I just thought... It's been so long..."
"We understand. We thought so as well, but... I-It'll be easier to explain when you get here. We could have a car come and get you as soon as tomorrow afternoon, if that works for you?"
You stood up from your seat on the floor, carrying your phone over to look out the window. You could see the sun setting overtop of the buildings surrounding your shitty little apartment complex. Your left hand absent-mindedly fidgeted by your side, touching the ring on your finger and twirling it over and over again on the digit.
"Yeah, that's fine." You replied, knowing full well you had work in the morning. To hell with it. Fuck it.
This was far more important.
~~~
Nearly the entire ride to the facility was spent by you fidgeting in the back seat of the van with not a word spoken to the driver. You couldn't find a position to where you could sit comfortably, making you shift around every so often. Looking out the window to the drab, grey sky that stretched out in front of you, you tried to distract yourself to no avail. Your thoughts constantly drifted back to William, thousands of thoughts drifting through your mind.
Where the hell had he been the last thirty years? How was he even still alive? Why didn't he ever try to contact you? What exactly did these people mean when telling you it would be easier to explain in person? And most importantly, what the hell were you even going to say to him?
You didn't know. But you needed to try. Hopefully you could wing it as you go.
Eventually, after passing by some rather sketchy looking buildings on the highway, you scooted forward in your seat to talk to the driver, leaning against the passenger seat as you looked at his reflection in the rear-view mirror.
"Hey," you said, "How much further are we out?"
"Just around five minutes." The driver replied, "Just gotta take the exit and we're there."
The driver put the blinker on and merged out of the highway, taking the exit ramp down closer to some of the buildings. He drove for a few more minutes before pulling in to the parking lot of one of the shorter buildings, a few security guards around the perimeter. The two of you drove up to what appeared to be the front door, where two men in suits were waiting outside for you once you parked.
The driver walked around to the opposite side of the car to open the door for you, letting you walk the short distance up to the door. The two men standing there looked at you as you approached, one of them reaching out to shake your hand. This one had glasses with salt-and-pepper hair, the other one with brown hair and deep wrinkles.
"(Y/N), yes?" The agent shaking your hand greeted, offering you a small, almost sympathetic smile, "We're glad you could make it out. I'm agent Carter, the one you spoke with on the phone. This is my colleague agent Smith."
You glanced to agent Smith, who only gave you a little nod before you looked back to agent Carter. It was clear who was the more friendly of the two.
"I see. Nice to meet you too." You replied, shifting your bag on your shoulder somewhat awkwardly. "Thank you both for inviting me here. It's... This is an opportunity I didn't think I'd ever get."
"Oh, it's no trouble--"
"Let's just get down to business, yes?" Agent Smith interjected with a sigh lacing his voice, turning and walking off in to the facility. Agent Carter followed behind him quickly, and held the door open for you as you followed. You walked behind the two men as they led you deeper into the building, seeing the different people in business-casual attire milling about the area.
"We found Mr. Afton a few weeks ago, but it's only now that we have seen any signs of life from him." The brown haired agent told you, making you pause and raise a brow.
"Signs of... life?" You questioned, earning a sideways glance from both agents.
"You'll see for yourself in due time." Smith replied before ducking inside of a room, Carter holding the door for you again as you stepped inside.
You took a moment to stand in the doorway and take in what you saw inside of the room, your breath catching in your throat. A plethora of large, flat TV screens lined the far wall, some displaying images of bare rooms, and others just showing static. There was a microphone on the desk lining the same wall, along with some computer monitors, keyboards, notebooks, abandoned cups of coffee and three different swivel chairs. Even though none of these were threatening by themselves, the combination of all of them made you shift in your stance and clear your throat.
"Wh... So, where is he?" You asked as you looked to Agent Carter for some answers, who just gave you a small smile.
"He's just behind this door." Smith replied as he gestured over his shoulder, nodding in the same direction. Looking behind him, you saw a reinforced door with barred, reinforced windows and several different locking mechanisms. Your brow furrowed in confusion and you opened your mouth to question it, but Agent Carter had interrupted you before any words could come out. He walked up to you and pressed something long and metal in to your hands, only adding to your confusion.
"We require that you to take this in with you." He said, his eyes flashing with hint of sympathy as you turned the object over in your hands; a shocking prod. "It's for your own protection in the event we can't get the door open in time."
"Wh-What?" You questioned as your eyes widened, turning the shock prod over in your hands again. "Are you serious? Will wouldn't."
"You have one hour to be with him. After that you'll have to sign a form and undergo a medical examination." Smith interrupted, placing a hand on your shoulder and practically pulling you over to the reinforced door.
You tried to protest, but he either didn't hear you or didn't care as he undid the locks to the door. The agent opened the door the bare minimum amount required to get you through the threshold before practically shoving you inside, nearly knocking you off your balance. You clutched on to the shock prod tighter as you flinched at the sound of the heavy door shutting behind you then the clicking of several locks closing shut. You stood in silence for a moment before the lights flickered on in the room, your eyes stinging as they adjusted to the harsh, cool-toned lighting.
Inside of the room was a metal table with two chairs, with scratches, marks, and mystery stains lining every surface. Scanning over the room, your eyes eventually landed on something in the corner, slumped over and sitting on the ground. It took you a moment to decipher what it was, earning a gasp from you when you eventually did. It was the spring-bonnie suit William used to wear, all those years ago. You could recognize that yellow fur and rabbit ears anywhere. Although, it was clear that time had not been kind to old bonnie, his fur matted and full of holes and stains, with obvious chunks missing, not to mention the horrible smell.
You stared at the yellow rabbit for a long moment before your grip on the shock prod tightened again, your brow furrowing. You felt frustration and anger rise inside your chest, feeling the heat in your cheeks. You were promised to see William. And this was all you got? A rotting costume?
"Is this some sort of sick joke?" You sneered as you looked around the room again, your eyes eventually landing on the security camera hanging from the ceiling. You glared in to it before turning and pounding on the iron door, your frustration only growing with each loud bang.
"Are you two serious?! What is this?! Get me out of here! Hello?? HELLO--"
"B... Bun... ny... Bun-ny..."
You freeze, your face growing pale and your motions falling away to a halt. You feel a chill run down your whole body, as if a ghost had passed through you and stole your soul.
No... it wasn't. It couldn't be. It was impossible...
But who else had ever called you bunny before?
Slowly, you turn around, your hands shaking and your bottom lip trembling. Your wide eyes take in the sight before you, sending another chill down your body. Spring bonnie, who was originally sitting down, was now upright, hunched over and twitching every so often in a manner that made your body ache. Two white, glowing eyes were staring right at you, almost as wide as your own. You could feel your body tremble with fear, but your mind felt oddly blank, as if trying to catch up with reality.
It couldn't be. I just couldn't--
"W... Will?" You heard yourself say before you could register it in your mind, your body acting on pure instinct alone.
The decrepit Spring Bonnie seemed to twitch again at this, the rusty joints creaking and popping in an unnatural manner. The animatronic takes a heavy, labored step closer to you making you flinch.
"B-Bun-ny... m-my... bunny..." Spring Bonnie's voice spoke to you again, sounding as if his throat were full of wires and metal. He takes another painful-looking step towards you, and you flinch again, your back pressing against the metal door as the shock prod dropped out of your hand and clattered to the floor. The animatronic seems to take note of this and stops his approach, an almost pained, heartbroken look flashing in his mechanical eyes.
"D-Don't be... scared." Spring Bonnie tells you, even as you felt your lungs rapidly rise and fall in your chest. "It's me... (Y/N). I-It's me..." I would... never... hurt you."
You heard a ringing in your ears as you listened to the animatronic... William's words. No, there was no denying it anymore. You knew in your heart that this was William. Those glowing, robotic eyes; you could still see the remnants of the man you loved behind him. The grey eyes that you used to love with all your heart.
Tears stung in the rims of your eyes as you stared ahead at William, the cold air of the room stinging inside your chest. A pained look flashed in your eyes, and you started to shake your head.
"N-No... i-it... That's not..." You choked out as you felt hot tears slip down your cheeks and dribble down your chin. "How, I... I-I don't understand--"
William shushes you before you could get out any more words, to the best of his ability, at least. He takes a few more labored steps closer to you until he's within arms length, the smell of rot and mold filling your lungs. You ignore it, however, glued in place as you watch his... hand? paw? Reach up to you. A metal finger lifts to your face, and wipes a tear from your cheek with a shocking amount of gentleness.
"You're... s-still as... stunning... as I... remember." William rasped, making your lips part as a warmth flooded your chest. Even now, all these years later, he still remembered you? Made you swoon? It was all you ever hoped for.
You took in a deep breath and let it slip from your lips, feeling how they curved up into the slightest of smiles. You reached up to your face and wiped your eyes as best you could, taking a moment to look William's new body up and down before meeting his gaze again.
"You thought about me?" You asked in a rasp of a voice, feeling the rotted furry palm of William's drop from your face and scrape down your arm.
"C-Constantly." He replied, and you swore you saw the rabbit ears on the top of his head perk up.
Your small smile lingered for a moment as you stared into William's glowing eyes, your gaze eventually trailing down his body once more. You could see the mold and rot on the tattered fur, along with remnants of what was probably blood and other gore you didn't want to think too much about. The more you looked, the more your smile faded, until it was just a frown.
"I just..." You began, shaking your head in disbelief. "I just have so many questions. How are you even alive? What happened to you?"
William's shoulders squared in response to your interrogation, a deep rumbling emanating through his voice box. He looked off to the side, deep in thought and pausing for a long moment, as if the memory was far in the depths of the remnants of his mind. After a beat, I looked back up into your eyes, and you felt his paw grab on to your hand.
"It is... a long... story." He rasped, tugging on your hand as he turned. He took a few heavily labored steps back to the corner of the room, and you followed after him. Slowly, he moved his giant body so that he could sit back on the floor, lifting up his arm for you to join him by his side. You looked at the obvious signs of decay where you were supposed to rest yourself, and pulled your jacket tighter around your body. You knew Will probably wanted some human contact and connection with you after so long, but you really didn't want it to end with having to go to the ER for a tetanus shot.
You knelt down before moving to sit next to William, feeling his heavy, robotic arm wrap around your shoulders. He pulled you in as close as you could go to him and let out a sound akin to a purr, his other paw moving to rest on your knee.
"I-I never meant... to leave you... bunny." William wheezed, his glowing eyes never leaving your face. "I was... chased. Trapped."
"Chased by who?"
The golden rabbit man paused, as if to search for what to say.
"Spirits... after me. Th-They wanted... revenge."
"Spirits? Revenge? Revenge for wha--"
"I-I was... terrified. So I... hid. In the suit. My sweat... made the... sp-springlocks... go off. I-I died slowly... painfully. But... came back later. S-Stuck in pain for... thirty years..."
Your eyes softened as you listened to William's story, feeling an ache in your chest. You couldn't imagine just how scared he must have been; scared, alone, and in pain for thirty years. It sounded like absolute hell. Worse than hell, even. It sounded like agony for him to even talk, let alone just exist inside of the Spring Bonnie suit for so long. Your eyes stung with tears again as you placed your hand over his, careful to avoid any sharp pieces of metal or wires.
"Oh, Will... I'm so sorry. That sounds... Just horrible."
You sniffled back your tears before lifting your hand to his rotted cheek, gently cupping it where you knew it would be safe. He immediately let out another purr, leaning in to your touch as his eyes turned half-lidded.
"Are you in pain right now?" You asked, bracing yourself for the answer.
"Y-Yes..." He responds, closing his eyes for a moment before gazing back at your face.
"B-But having you... makes... the pain... bearable."
You were supposed to be a name in his notebook. A brilliant assistant nothing more. Yet the man who built monsters starts crafting something else instead: your laughter, captured in memory... Even your heartbeat, measured in volts. William says he’s only studying “human affection”. But why, then, does his gaze linger too long on your lips when the lab lights flicker?
Soft electric heartbeats pulsing beneath the tiled floor. The air forever scented with copper and oil and faint burnt sugar, his tea gone cold hours ago.
The tall man stood in the halo of a low lamp, hands wrist-deep in wires and brass, his tie loosened, his shirt sleeves rolled past the scars of solder burns. Every inch of him breathed devotion to his craft. Every thought was married to precision—until you began to haunt the corners of his focus.
You’d only been working there a month, a quiet assistant with an unnerving patience for his moods. You catalogued parts, sketched diagrams, occasionally offered an idea sharp enough to make him stop mid-sentence. At first he’d thought you a pleasant distraction, nothing more. A bright voice in the dimness. But one evening, when you laughed at his frustration over a jammed servo, something inside him shifted.
The sound lodged itself between his ribs like a living thing.
He began to look for reasons to keep you nearby.
“Hold this wire for me.”
“Watch this circuit—see how it breathes?”
“Stay until the calibration finishes; it’s quicker with two.”
Hours stretched into nights, nights into rituals. Your presence became as necessary as air.
He told himself it was practicality. Efficiency. You steadied his rhythm. You understood his machines the way few ever could.
Yet when you leaned over his shoulder, breath warm against his ear as you asked about voltage thresholds, his entire body betrayed him. The pulse in his throat fluttered like a trapped thing.
He caught himself studying you in secret—how your hands moved when you handled a fragile mechanism, how you bit your lip while reading blueprints. He began to imagine the curve of your smile cast in metal, the pulse of your laughter caught inside a machine.
Not out of cruelty. Out of the sheer, unbearable need to preserve you.
He’d lost too much already, his inventions, his partnerships, the fleeting warmth of admiration that always turned to fear. People decayed; technology endured. So why shouldn’t he capture something beautiful before it slipped away?
So he started keeping notes—tiny details.
The temperature you preferred your tea. The songs you hummed when focused. The exact hue your eyes took beneath the fluorescent lights. They filled pages of a notebook hidden under blueprints, as though cataloguing data might make it less sinful.
When you left one evening, forgetting your gloves, he lingered over them. Soft fabric still carrying the ghost of your warmth. He placed them on the workbench, stared, and wondered if this was how the divine felt when they first made man—awed, terrified, hopelessly in love with what they’d created.
He told himself obsession was simply another form of curiosity. Yet curiosity doesn’t whisper your name when the lights go out. It doesn’t make you dream of touching skin instead of circuits.
One night he arrived before dawn, half-mad with inspiration...or hunger.
He began constructing something new. A humanoid frame, delicate and precise. Skin panels with warmth, eyelids capable of fluttering, vocal wires tuned to a familiar pitch.
He named the project Model Y. He never told you what the “Y” stood for.
Every movement of his hands felt sacred, as though each piece brought him closer to capturing the heartbeat that had ruined him. He imagined you standing beside him, marveling at the creation, never realizing the shape of your smile had been traced into its face.
When you arrived that morning, yawning and apologizing for being late, William looked up from his work with a smile that felt foreign on his lips.
He watched you from across the room, your soft chatter, your unguarded humanity, and thought: If I could just keep this moment. If I could bottle it, preserve it in copper and glass, I would.
He almost told you. Almost confessed that every gear, every circuit, every sleepless night revolved around you.
But you laughed again, easy and unknowing, and the sound was too precious to risk. So he swallowed the words.
Instead, he let his obsession bloom in silence.
He built and built, until the line between engineer and admirer blurred. Until he could no longer tell whether he was inventing machines or building altars.
And when he finally looked at his reflection in the chrome of a half-finished animatronic, he barely recognized the man smiling back, eyes fever-bright and hands trembling not with exhaustion, but devotion.
William Afton was a man of science. Logic and orecision
But in the soft hum of his lab, he’d crafted something entirely irrational— a love so methodical it became madness.
He moves with the sort of confidence that only someone very aware of his own stature could possess. He doesn’t just walk into a room; he arrives, and everything smaller than him (which, well, includes you) feels immediately caught in the orbit of his presence. He uses that, too—oh, he’s wicked about it.
Whether you’re short enough that he can rest his chin on the crown of your head with a sly grin, or tall enough to stand nearly chest to chest, he still makes you feel small. Not out of cruelty, but out of that deliberate showmanship he’s so infamous for. He adores contrast, the elegance of dominance painted in soft touches and murmured teases.
He’ll trap you easily, a wall of warmth and quiet threat, leaning down so close you can see the faint shimmer of silver in his eyes. His favorite thing? When you instinctively back up, only to find the wall waiting, his shadow following, curling around you like velvet.
He doesn’t even have to do much, he just is. That tall, composed monster wrapped in lavender and cedar, smiling faintly like he’s caught you in some delightful experiment.
And when he finally pins you, not even harshly, just—decisively—his breath catches the corner of your jaw as he murmurs something dangerously soft:
“You see, darling, gravity always wins… especially mine.”
Imagine this, William Afton, all six-foot-four of smug, immovable weight, draped over you like some impeccably perfumed cat that’s decided you are the warmest spot in the house. He doesn’t even pretend to move, no, he just hums low in his throat, like a purr (he can purr?), and then buries his face against your neck with a sigh that sounds too content for someone crushing you half to death.
You’re flailing under him, voice muffled into his vest or shirt “William! You’re heavy—get off!” and he just... chuckles. That lazy, velvety, unhurried laugh that makes you want to both slap and kiss him at once.
“Mm. Nonsense,” he mutters, in that maddeningly calm tone, barely lifting his head, “you’re perfectly fine, my dear. I’m merely… conserving energy.”
He stretches like a lion, the kind of stretch that seems to go on forever, the fabric of his shirt pulling just enough to make him even more infuriatingly comfortable. His hair tickles your face, his weight presses down like a velvet blanket, and all you can do is let out another muffled groan while he smiles, eyes half-lidded and far too pleased with himself.
Sometimes, if you wriggle too much, he’ll shift slightly just to pretend he’s giving you mercy, only to settle right back with a soft “there we go”
And when you finally give up, grumbling into his chest, he whispers, utterly unapologetic, “See? You make an excellent mattress, love. Firm. Warm. Perfectly accommodating.”
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