There is something in the way he holds you; Pure Vanilla Cookie.
Something in the way in how he gently drapes his arms over your waist and pulls you in close. He sways the both of you in a gentle rhythm that follows only you and him.
Something in the way in how he rests his chin on your scalp and hums, sending shivers all the way to your toes.
Something in the way in how he presses his lips to your forehead and murmurs “I love you” against your dough, over and over again.
Something in the way in how he treats you like a porcelain doll. Beautiful and handsome. Something to be cherished with love and care. Holding onto you with a firm but careful grip.
It makes you feel loved. It makes you feel like you belong. Because it is where you belong. Safe and sound in Pure Vanilla Cookie’s arms, with no doubt that you are cared for.
Oh, how he loves you so. He’d do anything for you. Anything if it meant he could spend eternity with you like this, swaying to the sound of your beating souls.
“My love, may you never forget where home is. Even if you are lost, do not fret. For home will come find you.”
yay! then can i plz request reader laying vanilla's head on their lap to rub his head when he's sick? that and bringing plushies and making tea for him :D
Hello!! I'm sorry it's been a couple days but here it is :)) This was very fun to write for!! I hope you enjoy!
Rest Now, Pure Vanilla Cookie
“Pure Vanilla Cookie,” you cut him off, and he shuts up at your change of tone. “I am tired of you not taking care of yourself. No matter what I suggest for your health, you decline it and end up never doing anything.” You lean towards the hand still on your face, nuzzling into it and kissing the palm before adding, “If you will not take care of yourself, allow me to do so instead. Please.”
---- 2267 words ----
I also posted it to AO3 <3
I think I'm done with asks for now, with artfight going on. May open these back up when July is over though!!
-----
The sun was bright above the Vanilla Kingdom. The sky was blue and welcoming. The kingdom was bustling. Shopkeepers welcomed in customers, children chased each other around the large fountain, birds were cooing atop rooftops. There was not a dull moment.
You breathed in the fresh air, watching all the commotion go on beneath you as you peered from the castle’s highest balcony. Pure Vanilla Cookie stood next to you. His eyes were shut, and his staff was somewhere perched in the bedroom, but you could tell he was listening. Hearing the conversations that the breeze carried up and the bird song that passed by. He was smiling, and that’s how you could tell. It made you smile, knowing he was content with this too. You leaned down against the railing, cheek pressed against your arm as you closed your eyes as well.
What a beautiful day; a beautiful moment. The Vanilla Kingdom was thriving. Truly, nothing could ruin this moment in time.
…
Cough! Cough!
…
Okay, maybe something could ruin it.
You blink open your eyes and glance towards Pure Vanilla Cookie, whose currently covering his mouth with a hand as another cough forces its way out of him.
“Pure Vanilla, are you alright?” you ask, concern evident in your voice as you place a hand on his shoulder. He holds his other hand up at you, as if to stop you from worrying.
“Yes, I am quite alright. It is simply some common sickness. I must’ve caught it while I was on the edge of town yesterday,” he looks over at you and smiles reassuringly. “It is nothing to worry about.” But that quickly backfires as he quickly pulls away from you to cough again. You frown at him.
“How about using your magic, hun?” you suggest, but it is quickly shut down with a shake of his head.
“No, I shouldn’t. Not on myself, and not for something so small,” he states firmly.
“Pure Vanilla Cookie,” you say, and you pull his face towards you with your hands. “It is okay to take care of yourself too,” you whisper to him.
In truth, Pure Vanilla Cookie had a horrible habit of neglecting himself. Always putting the needs of his kingdom before himself. He smiles through it, but it worries you.
He seems taken back by your words. His brows furrow and he opens his mouth to protest. You brush your thumbs over Pure Vanilla’s cheeks lovingly and he hesitates, the furrow deepening.
“My dear…” he eventually utters as he grabs your hands with his own and forces them away from his face. He pushes your hands towards your chest. “Please, do not get so close. I do not wish to get you sick too,” he mutters, and straightens his posture. Away from you. He looks down, revealing those heterochromic eyes to peer at your face. You look back at him disapprovingly; arms crossed and eyebrows raised. Pure Vanilla Cookie sighs as his eyes flutter shut again. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then it goes quiet.
The quiet stretches on for far too long to be comfortable anymore; neither of you sure of what to say. Pure Vanilla clears his throat before he speaks up again. “I have some duties to attend to before it gets too late,” he announces. “I will not be gone long.”
You nod in response and watch as he turns to leave the balcony before you stop him. You pull on his sleeve to gain his attention.
“I love you,” you smile gently at him. Pure Vanilla Cookie merely looks at you, before returning your smile.
“I love you too, my dear.” And with that, Pure Vanilla exits with a sniffle, and you are left alone.
You follow the sound of his footsteps down the marble hallway and down the stairs before it fades out of earshot. Then you wait still, on the balcony, until you catch sight of Pure Vanilla Cookie in the gardens below. That is when you decide to leave the balcony as well.
You shut the balcony doors behind you as you stroll out of your bedroom and through the castle with intent as you follow winding staircases and servant shortcuts to your destination. While Pure Vanilla is out, some changes are in order. If he will not take care of himself, then someone else will have to.
“Good afternoon!” you exclaim as you waltz through the large doors of the castle’s kitchen. A cookie in a large, white chef’s hat turns to you as you enter.
“Oh! Well good afternoon to you too!” The head chef cookie greets you. “Is there something you’re after?” he asks.
“Yes, yes, very much so,” you nod with a smile.
“Well, whaddya have in mind?”
“How about a bowl of soup and a nice cup of tea?”
——
You retreat back to yours and Pure Vanilla’s room on the top floor just in time to catch him after his return. “Ah, hello, my dear,” he greets you as he hangs up his elegant outer robes in the ginormous, hand-carved closet you both share. There’s a sniffle of his nose as he speaks, and he pulls out a small handkerchief from his pocket to wipe at it.
“Hello, my love,” you greet back. He pauses as he properly turns towards you, hat off and staff still in hand. The eye of it turns downwards, towards your hands.
“May I ask what the tray is for?” Pure Vanilla Cookie asks you curiously, almost warily. You eye the bowl of soup and tea on the silver tray cradled in your hands.
“Oh, this? This is for you!” you say cheerfully, holding it up for him to see. The liquids slosh around with your gesture, but do not spill. Pure Vanilla frowns at you from across the room, but you hold your ground, gesturing for him to come over with a tilt of your head. With a sigh, he crosses the room to look at what you’ve brung him.
On the silver tray you hold is a small bowl of home-cooked chicken soup that steams plenty as it cools. There is already a silver spoon in it waiting to be used. On the other side of the tray is a teapot and an already poured cup of tea. The aroma of it already leaves the entire bedroom smelling like peppermint. There is a moment of stillness as Pure Vanilla Cookie takes in the food before him.
“I see you’ve visited the chef,” he observes. You nod at him, still smiling.
“All for you,” you reply. “I want you to get better.” Pure Vanilla’s eyes are soft as you say this, and a smile graces his features. He brings a hand up to your cheek, caressing the dough with his thumb.
“My bright light, I thank you dearly for this gesture,” He speaks, and then much quieter, “but this was not necessary. I promise you, I shall get better with time.” Your face drops at that, and Pure Vanilla seems to notice as he is quick to console you. “I really do appreciate this, my love. It is best not to waste your efforts. Why don’t you–”
“Pure Vanilla Cookie,” you cut him off, and he shuts up at your change of tone. “I am tired of you not taking care of yourself. No matter what I suggest for your health, you decline it and end up never doing anything.” You lean towards the hand still on your face, nuzzling into it and kissing the palm before adding, “If you will not take care of yourself, allow me to do so instead. Please.” Not once do your eyes leave his as you plead. He seems genuinely stunned at your request, like he never expected you to want to take care of him. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away from you, and you’re prepared to be turned down once again. Your eyes drift down to your tray, now wondering what to do with it until you hear Pure Vanilla Cookie.
“Very well, then.”
You perk up, eyebrows raised. “Huh?” Pure Vanilla Cookie turns away from you to cough before repeating himself.
“Very well, I said. If you truly want to do this, I will not stop you,” he says, and you feel like you’ve just won the lottery. You practically beam at him.
“Thank you, Vanilly,” you say, before ushering him to sit down on the bed. He gives you a small smile as you sit beside him. You set the tray down on the bedside table before carefully taking the tea cup and offering it to Pure Vanilla. He takes it from you with no question and takes a sip.
“This is delicious. I’m not sure I’ve had this before,” he remarks, and brings his nose down to the rim. You giggle as you watch, grabbing the chicken soup off the tray as you do.
“It’s peppermint, surely you've had it. It’s nothing special,” you reply. You grip the spoon that rests in the bowl of soup. It’s already quite warm from sitting there. You take a spoonful of the broth and chicken and hold it up to Pure Vanilla Cookie. “Say ah!” you smile at him and his eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t fight it. He opens his mouth obediently and you move, bringing the warm liquid to his tongue. He closes his mouth around the spoon and pulls away. He chews slowly on the chicken. “Taste good?” you ask him, and he nods before swallowing.
“The chefs are very good at what they do,” Pure Vanilla says. You chuckle.
“That they are.”
You spend a little bit more time feeding Pure Vanilla Cookie the soup and refilling his tea cup. At one point, Pure Vanilla interjects saying he can feed himself. You tell him to keep drinking his tea. Soon enough, all the soup is gone and the teapot is half full. Pure Vanilla Cookie leans back on the bed, tea cup still in hand. He pats his tummy jokingly as he looks at you. “That was very filling,” he laughs. “Thank you for the meal, my dear.” You grin at him.
“Oh, we’re not done yet, silly,” you say, and gently take the empty tea cup from Pure Vanilla’s hand. You set it down on the tray, and you can feel his eyes on you as you move from the bed to your closet. He watches you curiously as you throw open the large doors and rifle through the clothes and other things the both of you have stored away in there. Finally, you pull out a decently sized sheep plush. An adorable little thing, with fluffy cream curls and a plush bell tied around its neck with a blue silky ribbon. “How about you hold onto this?” You suggest while shutting the closet doors. Pure Vanilla Cookie hums.
“My, I haven’t seen that in a while,” he comments, and he holds his hands out to take it from you as you walk back over. He gently rakes through the curls with his fingers. “It’s still as soft as I remember. Where did you find this?”
“One of the maids found it while sorting through some old things,” you answer simply. The bed dips as you climb onto it and find your way to the head to sit comfortably against it. You pat your legs. “Lay down for me, will you?” you ask Pure Vanilla. He shuffles towards you, sheep clutched in his hands.
“On you?” he questions.
“Mhhmm,” you hum. Pure Vanilla Cookie gives you a confused look, but obliges. He nestles him between your legs, head in your lap and eyes staring up at you. “Comfy?” you ask, and he nods in response. “Good, good.” Your hands run along his shoulders. They follow the curve of his neck and glide feather light against his cheeks until you reach his temples. Applying gentle pressure, you start to massage at the sides of his head.
“My love, this isn’t—” he starts, but you shush him. He quiets.
“Just let me take care of you,” and you lean as far forwards as you can to press a gentle kiss to his head. Pure Vanilla makes a noise in the back of his throat and you smile at him affectionately. The room goes silent as the two of you fall into a rhythm; nothing but the rustling of the bed and the quiet bird song outside as the sun sets over the horizon. You gently continue to rub his head. You go over his cheeks with your thumbs, and then massage down his jawline. Eventually, you make your way back to his temples. Pure Vanilla Cookie lets out a content hum. He seems to really be enjoying this. His hands fidget with the sheep plushie cradled in his arms.
“This is…very nice,” he speaks suddenly.
“I’m glad,” you say, and you drag your fingers through his golden hair, scratching at his scalp. He lets out another content noise at this. You laugh. “That good, huh?”
“Very much so,” Pure Vanilla replies. A silence falls over you again, and you rake your hands through his hair a couple more times before he breaks it again. “Thank you,” he mumbles, and it’s very sincere. “Thank you for taking care of me when I couldn’t.” Your response is the most tender smile ever. You pause your ministrations to lean down again and press a long and gentle kiss to his lips. Then, you whisper.
“Of course, my love, of course. I will always be here for you.”
yk what wld be interesting? when we're asleep beside him pv notices how reader always protects their core: arm over their stomach, palm pressed against the heart, lying on the side so the back protects their front. it makes me wonder abt the dynamics. what do you think?
Augh,, the angst possibilities,,, if I'm reading this correctly.
Maybe he thinks it's a physical injury at first...
"My love, are you alright? Are you hurt?" he would ask, wishing to help you only to realize you're perfectly fine. Your dough has not a single scratch on it. He'll be relieved, and pull you in for a hug. But as the days go on, and each night you curl in on yourself, he can't help but wonder if there's a reason you sleep that way.
Perhaps one night, he pulls you in more than usual. Cradles you against his chest just so. He has one hand raking through your hair, and the other places itself over the hand you lay over your heart.
"My angel, talk to me. Tell me what worries you." And you do tell him, you tell him whatever has been on your mind recently. Pure Vanilla Cookie would listen intently, humming occasionally in response as he does. And if tears were to fall, he'd wipe them away in a heartbeat. "Let it all out, my light. I'm here for you."
The night stretches on as both of you lay there nestled into each other. Pure Vanilla kisses you gently, before leaning his forehead against yours. He does everything he can to be as close to you as possible, as he understands now.
"My little light, please, do not fret. I will be here for you, no matter what. In rain or shine, I am here, and I will do everything in my power to protect you. You will always have me to fall back on if you need to."
A little Moon comfort drabble, for anyone who just wishes to be held and comforted and appreciated.
—
Moon doesn’t understand how anyone would decide to hurt you, of all people.
You, their bestest friend in the whole plex. Who didn’t judge or find them weird; accepting them with all your heart could offer.
You, the best assistant they could have ever asked for. Who listened to the rules, who followed directions, and finished their tasks with excellent results.
You, the silliest little playmate for the kids. Who would squeeze themself into the tight play structures, unbefitting for someone so much bigger, just to play hide and seek and see those precious smiles once more.
You, their love. Who had opened their optics and made them realize that yes, they could love, and it was you they wished to.
He really couldn’t understand why life could be so cruel to you and why it had hurt you. But as you kneeled there, sobbing into his chest while he held you oh so gently, he felt his non-existent heart squeeze. Something hurt you, terribly, and it made his gears churn.
Moon wished you would stop crying. It was so unfair to you. Those eyes, puffy and red. Cheeks tinted and stained. Hiccups that broke free without your permission no matter how desperately you tried to keep them to yourself.
You poor, poor thing.
He wanted to squirrel you away. Hide you from the world, keep you safe. But that couldn’t happen. No, you had things you needed to do, and Moon nor Sun could be by your side outside the Plex. No matter how much they wanted to be. There was nothing they could do.
Moon shushed you quietly, placing his hands on your cheeks to lift your face up to his. He peppered kisses over your face. Little “mwahs” with every one. The onslaught makes you giggle and Moon feels warm inside at the sound. Pleased to know he’s doing something right.
Your small hands find their way on top his larger ones, resting there, rubbing along the smooth, cold metal and you let out a sigh. Moon nuzzles you once more before pulling away, looking into your teary eyes.
“My Starlight, so, so precious. I’m sorry the world has been so cruel to you…it’s not fair at all to you,” His hands shift to the small of your back, cradling you gently in his hold. “We are here for you, little star. Do not forget that. We cherish you deeply, more than you may ever know.”
“In the dark of the night, please remember to follow our guiding light.”
“My silly sunflower…where did that smile of yours go?” The Sun asked you as he held your face gingerly in his large, warm hands.
“I don’t know how much more I can take, Sun..” You hiccuped in response. “Everything lately feels so suffocating and, and nothing seems to want to work out the way I want it to.” You said, needing to pause every now and then to let out a sniff or a sob. “It just feels like the universe is punishing me! And, and I don’t know why, Sun. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!” You wailed and buried your face in his chest, unable to keep yourself steady anymore.
Sun felt his mechanical heart break. His sweet sunshine, his wonderful little doll. Breaking at the seams and unraveling before his eyes…
He cooed at you, wrapping his arms around your back and rubbing circles in between your shoulder blades.
“My poor little light, it hurts me to see you like this,” He pulled away from you enough to free your head, and lifted your chin with a finger. Your teary eyes found his, soft with fondness for you. “What can I do for you, my love? What can I do to make everything just a little better?”
Oh he makes you want to cry more. He could see it in your eyes. The way they glossed over with more tears at his words. You and him loved each other so much.
“H-hold me, please. Love me, talk to me, stay here with me, please..” You replied quietly, just barely above a whisper. Sun smiled at you, before wiping away your salty tears and pressing a kiss to your forehead.
Hiya @keeira ! I was your secret valentine for the DCA Bee Team!! Horror is not my element I admit, but I had a lot of fun writing it! I hope you like it! <3
Wordcount: 3,700
Warnings: Fear, Minor Injury (it’s not real)
Pit-pat. Pit-pat. Pit-pat. Your feet hit the soft padded floor of the daycare. The colorful vinyl is cold against your bare skin. It sends your nerves alight with each touch. Up and up and up until your shoulders tingle with the sensation and you have to roll your shoulders back to make it go away.
The daycare looks…different. Vastly different.
The humming overhead lights are shut off. The bright, cheery colors that make up what you consider the daycare are gone. Kidnapped by dark blues and black that lengthen and deepen the farther you step inside its grasp. It’s cold. So cold you can almost see your own breath in the shadows. That’s not right, is it? It smells like dust and mold. Like the play structures haven’t been wiped down in years, or played in for days. It clogs up your lungs. You want to cough. A daycare shouldn’t smell stale and dead. But it looks dead. Even in the dark, illuminated only by fake stars, you can see the horrendous state of what you know is home to hundreds.
Some of the glass windows have been smashed in. Netting in the play structures have been ripped to dangling threads. Little toys torn in half. Tables turned upside down and strewn out of place. Even a large cut-out of the popular gator has been horrifically demolished. You can hardly tell it’s him. And as you continue to slowly make your way towards the ballpit you notice deep tears in some of the padded tiles. The foam inside is torn to shreds. This doesn’t look like a place you’d find any kids. Or anyone. Not anymore.
This isn’t right. This isn’t right at all.
It’s so empty and quiet. Why is it quiet? It’s so quiet that it becomes loud in your ears. Ringing through your head as you strain to hear even a pin drop. But nothing comes.The instinct to scream crawls its way to the front of your mind. To make some kind of noise. To make the eerie stillness go away. The daycare shouldn’t be quiet. It’s never quiet.
Where are the children?
Where is the laughter and loud squeals of fun?
Hell, where is the stupid song that plays on loop constantly? It shouldn’t be like this.
You want to yell out for someone. Scream and shout, and hope someone might answer your cry. But who? Who would answer your call? The instinct dies as you stand still, pondering. Staring downwards, you notice your grip has become pale as you hold yourself close. You let go to find crescent indents in your forearms.
Something feels…off. Missing. The daycare feels like it’s missing something. Someone should answer your calls. Someone would answer. You know this for a fact. It isn’t missing something, it’s missing someone.
But who?
You look around, finding yourself standing at the foamy castle wall that surrounds the ballpit. Though as you peer over the edge, you find there are no balls in the ballpit. Or, not as many as there should be. The remaining plastic balls are crumpled. Popped, and wadded up as if they were made of paper. Where did they all go? You wonder. They couldn’t have just disappeared. Maybe it’s cleaning day? But that doesn’t make sense. That doesn’t answer why they left the broken ones in the pit. Those would’ve just been thrown out.
You walk over to one of the colorful rainbow bridges that lead into the ballpit. Crossing over, you stand at the edge of the bridge for a second, before walking over to the nearest broken ball and picking it up. In the darkness, you can’t tell what color it is your holding. It’s a much darker color compared to some of the others, almost black. The next one you pick up is lighter in color. Holding them side by side in your palms, you think the darker one is blue and the lighter, pink. The next one you grab is darker. Then the next, dark again. Then light. Eventually, you find yourself with a pile of crumpled balls cradled in your arms. Each a different shape and color. Carefully, you carry them out of the ballpit. Back over the rainbow bridge, across the dark, dirty daycare, to the security desk, and dump them all into the trash can. There. The daycare can smile just a little more. You think to yourself, looking over the daycare once more. Although nothing really changed, you’re pleased to have done something for this sad and dark place.
Tick-tick-tick. You hear a quiet ticking noise echo around the daycare; the sound of something being wound up. It continues to wind, so tight you think it might just snap. Tick-tick-tick. You can’t figure out where it’s coming from. Tick-tick-ti-. Then it stops and it’s quiet for a moment. A soft, music box lullaby starts to play, seemingly from nowhere. It flows throughout the daycare. It’s beautiful, yet haunting. You follow the sound with your ears, looking up towards the painted wizard tower on the far wall. The music box sings from behind the drawn curtains.
You debate if you should go up there or not. You’ve been up there before, quite a few times, but not by yourself. A darkness clouds your brain. You don’t remember who could’ve been with you. You stare at the balcony for a moment longer, listening to the slow lullaby before making up your mind.
Slipping out of the daycare’s play area, you head for the second floor of the theater. On the way there, you notice that the rest of the daycare’s space is just in as bad shape as the play area.
The gift shop was closed, rollers shut over the windows and entrance. Tables were thrown over and chairs were missing just like inside the play area. Vending machines emitted no glow and were missing buttons. You make your way up a set of stairs, the ones closest to the upstairs entrance of the theatre. As you pass a series of party rooms, you can see remnants of popped balloons, and torn tablecloths. On one of the tables, there's a lonely plate of moldy birthday cake.
This place hasn’t seen anyone for a while, you think again. And then you realize something. A realization you should’ve had the minute it started, and a shiver runs down your spine. You are not alone here. Someone is up there, behind those drawn curtains, playing that lullaby, filling this place with music. It couldn’t have gone off by itself. The thought of not being alone here, or who could be here with you, makes your blood run cold.
You stand in front of the theater’s entrance, staring up at its large scroll-like sign with Fazbear Theater written in big blue letters. You find something odd. There are two unpainted circles on either side of the text, tucked between where the scroll ends and the clouds above, like something used to be there but was torn off the sign. You can’t remember what could’ve been there. You feel that you should know what’s missing. You can feel it, forcing its way to the front of your brain, and then it’s dragged back down into the depths before you can even picture what it could’ve been. It leaves a terrible ache in its wake, and so you give up trying to remember.
The power is off, so you haul open the large rolling door yourself. It flies up with a loud clattering shck-shck-shck. You walk past an abandoned and dirty concessions counter. It reeks of food; rotten pizza and overly buttered popcorn. In the distance, you hear a mouse squeak.
You continue on into the main theater. There’s nothing playing on the screen. In fact, there’s a large gash in it. You don’t peek over the railing to see the downstairs; you know it’s a mess. Walking to the other side of the theater, your heart pounds as the music becomes louder with every step. You don’t know what you’ll find as you stand in front of the peeling Captain Foxy’s Pirate Adventure Coming Soon poster. A pit of uncertainty, anxiety, and fear finds itself in your stomach. With an exhale, you knock. Knocking once, twice, thrice, you hear the click of the lock and the hidden door creaks open. The hallway behind it is dingy, unlit, and uninviting and painted a gross, muted orange. It reminds you of an orange gone bad.
The colorful carpet is crunchy with grime underneath your feet. You grimace at the texture. The music box trickles through the cracked open door at the end. When you reach it, you find the room inside is dark. You push open the door a little bit more to get a better look. The room, like everything else, is dirty and a mess.
However, this room has always been that way.
Boxes upon boxes of miscellaneous items are everywhere. There’s a little red and green play structure of a house in the corner, with children sized chairs to accompany it. Piñatas and vinyl colored foam blocks are scattered about. There’s a thin layer of dust blanketing everything, and large cobwebs in the corners.
You ignore the disassembled STAFF bots, and the wet-floor bot that lays face down on the floor. You never knew why those were there. It leaves you with an awful feeling crawling inside you each time you see them.
The lullaby still plays, and your heart still pounds as you walk farther inside. But there is nobody here. There is no visible source of the music either. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you inspected the room carefully, turning in a full circle until you faced the door you entered from. There, you see a blue plastic tube stuck in the wall on its right. The tube is wide enough for you to crawl through. Music, the music box, flows outwards from within. Crouching down in front of the tube, you peer inside. It’s dark, but there’s an odd, pulsing glow in the corner that illuminates the area. It looks like a room, similar to the one you’re in now. You can’t see what the glowing light is from where you are crouched.
Your hands grip the top lip of the tube and haul yourself inside. It’s a tight fit, but you manage quite easily to get to the other side. This room was a lot smaller than the other, and dirtier. The music is the loudest it’s been. It swells in the room, bouncing off the concrete walls over and over again. Your eyes find the source. An arcade cabinet.
An arcade cabinet?
The cabinet sits in the far corner of the small room, and by the looks of it, it's…running? But the power isn’t on.
Confusion replaces the anxiety and fear in your gut. Who turned on this arcade machine? You take a couple steps closer to the machine. Its screen is bright white, with nothing else displayed. It hurts to look at and you decided to look elsewhere. Your eyes find the top of the arcade game and read the name. Balloon World. You’ve heard of that before. Don’t you collect balloons, or something, in this? You haven’t seen this game in any of the arcades, is this one broken? As you’re lost in thought, the music box abruptly stops, and the screen goes dark. You squint, hesitating before leaning into the machine to get a better look at the screen. It was working just a second ago, why did it shut off? You reached up to grab hold of the side of the cabinet, when you glanced down at the floor. Your eyes trailed the cord of the machine to the outlet. Then you paused.
The plug laid in a heap on the floor, and there was no outlet. It hadn’t been plugged in.
Your eyes widen and fear trickles its way back into your system. How was it playing music if it wasn’t plugged in? Your thoughts are cut off by an ugly, raspy laugh and you shriek when something grabs your still extended arm.
“Awwhh. W-what’s the matter, Spitfire? You look like y-you just s-saw a ghost!” A loud voice taunts. It’s laced with static and an awful raspiness. Your fearful gaze finds the arcade cabinet’s screen and you find bright orange eyes staring back at you. It giggles at you with a wide toothy maw. “ Scaaared?” It taunts you again.
An eclipsed sun had overtaken the screen of Balloon World. A dark face with bright orange rays that looked razor sharp. And currently, it somehow had a hand outside the arcade cabinet and was pulling you closer. The hand was dark as well, and horribly disorienting to look at. It fizzled and buzzed with static — you could feel it against your skin, it almost burned — it looked like it didn’t belong, like it shouldn’t exist. Another shot out from the machine’s screen, reaching out for you. You screamed, pulling at the first one, desperately trying to pry it off.
“Let go!” You yelled. All it did was laugh at you as its other hand grabbed yours, halting your attempts. It dragged you closer and closer to the arcade cabinet. Your heart skips a beat as it clicks what’s happening.
It’s trying to pull you in. Inside the cabinet.
You tried to pull yourself out of its hands, a new wave of adrenaline washing over you. “C-c’mon, Spitfire! I d-d-don’t bite,” It tried to assure you. But the smile that grew and contorted across its face said the opposite. You shook your head at its words and continued to struggle in its grasp but it wouldn’t let go. Whatever this thing was, was big and very strong. It’s hand wrapped fully around your bicep, and the other practically enclosed your hand in its palm. It was futile trying to fight it.
“Let me go! Please!” You begged. Your foot hit the base of the arcade cabinet. Then the other. Your body lurched forward with a painful tug. You fervently fought against it, but it was a losing battle. Another hand rose suddenly from the slanted screen and grabbed the underside of your face. “Oh, Spitfire~” It cackled out the nickname with glee. It jerked your head towards the screen. “Why don’t you come inside?” It asked, like it was a friend inviting you into its home. You looked into the screen, just mere inches away from your face, its bright orange eyes bore into yours. You resisted, yanking your head back and away from it, twisting every which way. This finally seemed to annoy the creature inside the machine.
Its smile fell, losing the act as it tilted its head to the side, and then it was suddenly closer than ever to the screen. All you could see were those glowing eyes. There was a dark and frustrated look inside them. “I said come inside.” It snarled at you. And then its grip on you tightened. Digging into the fat of your cheeks, crushing the bones of your hand together, bruising the flesh of your arm, as it doubles its attempt to drag you in. This time, you couldn’t fight against it.
It felt like time slowed down as you fought hopelessly. Pleading, praying, to not lose this game of tug-of-war. No! You tried to yell, like it would do something. No! No, no, no, no- Your cheek pressed against the screen of the arcade cabinet after what felt like hours of resisting, and you screamed. It burned. It felt like your skin was melting. Static buzzed inside your ear. Your vision blurred as you felt the screen give out, and you felt yourself slipping through into the abyss of the arcade machine.
Please! Someone save me!
Your screams cut off as the rest of your body vanished into the cabinet.
.
.
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.
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.
And then you woke up.
With a jolt, you lurched up from your rest. A cough burst from your windpipe after a gasp much too sharp for your poor body.
“Are you alright?” A soft, raspy voice sounded. Then there was a hand on the small of your back and you shrieked. You jumped up and away from the figure and curled up in the nearest corner.
“Get away! Don’t touch me!” You yelled, fists raised and ready to attack.
“Starlight?” The voice called, concern filling the single world. Your eyes darted toward the source. Red eyes shone across the room. A single hand reached out for you. “Starlight, what’s wrong?” They asked, it was almost a whisper, like they were afraid to spook you even more.
“Moon?” You questioned, lowering your hands.
“Yes. It’s me,” Moon nodded, his hat jingling along with the motion. “I promise it is.” He offered his hand to you. You wanted to sob in relief at the sight. Tears pooled in your eyes as you practically jumped into the bed you had flown from moments earlier. Wrapping your arms tightly around Moon’s torso, you let yourself sob into his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Moon. I didn’t realize it was you.” You mumbled. He hummed soothingly in response, wrapping an arm around your torso while the other rubbed your back in small circles. “It’s okay, my little star. It’s okay. There is no reason to apologize.” He spoke quietly. The hand circling your back took your cheek instead. You obliged, letting it guide you away from Moon’s shoulder to meet his eyes. His eyes softened as he took in your tear streaked cheeks and puffy eyes. “Did you have a nightmare?” The animatronic asked you, wiping at your face. You nodded with a sniffle. Another sob tore its way through you and you cried into Moon’s hands. “Shhh…shhh…It’s okay, you’re okay,” Moon comforted. “I’ve got you, I'm here.” He ran a hand soothingly through your hair as you collected yourself enough to speak.
“It was so horrible. The daycare was a mess, a-and I couldn’t remember you. O-or Sun! And then there was this lullaby, and I followed it into your room, and-” Your rambling paused as you thought of something. Something that pooled dread in your gut. “Moon?” You whispered his name, afraid.
“Yes, Starlight?” He whispered back with a tilt of his head. You caught the bell on the end of his hat before it could even make a sound.
“Is there an arcade cabinet in there?” You looked dead into Moon’s eyes as you asked this. You pointed a finger gingerly towards the hole in the wall. His eyes followed your hand, then flickered downward as he noticed your tightening hold on him. You couldn’t read his expression as his eyes met yours again. His optics held no thought as he stared back at you, processing what you had just asked. You were afraid of what he was going to say as another second of silence passed, then he spoke.
“No, my love. There is not an arcade cabinet in there,” He assured you, with a gentle stroke to your cheek.
You sighed happily at that — you didn’t even know you were holding your breath —, content with his answer. Moon seemed to understand this as you draped your hand gently over his hand still on your cheek, turning your head to place a kiss on his palm. The animatronic purred softly at the affection.
“Do you think you can sleep again?” He rumbled out. He kissed your forehead as he said this, returning your affection. You took a second, before nodding. “I think so.”
“Would you like me to stay with you until you fall asleep?”
“You’re not going to stay the entire time?”
“I still have a job to do, Starlight; rounds to make. I’ll be back before you know it,” He smiled at you, petting your head apologetically as you pouted. “But I can stay for now, if you’d like. ” You returned his smile with a small one of your own.
“Yes, please.”
Moon laid down with you until you managed to fall back asleep. He stroked your back and kissed your shoulders lovingly, whispering comforts to you as he attempted to coax you back to sleep. At one point, he started to wind up the music box inside his chassis but you stopped him, placing your hands on his chest. It was too fresh in your mind.
He laid there as he felt your breath even out, your hand that gripped his loosened ever so slightly, and he knew you had finally succumbed. A red hue dusted your face as Moon’s eyes watched you for a moment longer. He leaned in, kissing your cheek once before gently prying himself out of your grip and leaving the bed.
Moon’s movement made no sound, not even the bells on his feet jingled, as he tiptoed across the room, easily stepping past and over the little toys and pillows and other things that littered the floor. The animatronic crouched down in front of the blue tube in the wall. He slipped his upper half inside easily, supporting his weight on his hands and feet.
There, in the corner of the small concrete room was an arcade cabinet. A Balloon World arcade cabinet.
Moon stared at the arcade cabinet, long and hard. Like maybe that would scare it off. The machine wasn’t plugged in, its screen dark and covered in dust. Moon hated coming in here. There was a reason they told you to not come in here. And they appreciated that you never questioned it, agreeing to respect their boundaries. Oh the things they’d do for you. To keep you safe. You were wonderful and oh so nice to them. They didn’t deserve you.
Moon kept his eyes on the arcade cabinet before speaking in a low tone, a warning. “Don’t do that again.” He growled, addressing the machine. He was quiet, sure to not disturb you, but it still held that stern coldness. “I’ll dismantle you if I have to,” He threatened. “Do you understand?”
The only thing he got in response was a long staticky giggle. One that promised it did understand, but didn’t care.
Spare me some mercy because I barely understand how Tumblr works, and I don't think I ever will.
My name is Sweets (She/her)!
MY ARTFIGHT: Morning-sweets
You can find me here on Tumblr, Instagram (morningsweets__), and AO3 (MorningSweets)!
I often draw and write, and I love to share it with all of you! Currently it's a lot of FNAF DCA and Cookie Run Kingdom brainrot, so expect a lot of that!
You can find my art here at #morningsweetsdraws :)
You can find my writing at #morningsweetswrites :))
In progress projects to look forward to??
- Oxidized and Tarnished (Sun and Moon x Y/n. A blackmarket dealer and their runaway robots turned criminal.)
- Chipped Porcelain (Eclipse x Y/n. Two jesters in a world of chaos.)
And do you want to know every little thought I have and decide to share on Tumblr? Right here at #sweetsstupidthoughts it’s also where I reply to asks!
