Glamrocks x Funtime! reader
Summary: After a successful salvage, Y/N the Funtime animatronic has become the new centerpiece of the Pizzaplex’s all new History of Freddy’s attraction. You’ve been fixed up, embellished and improved. There was just one little issue. You were a tad aggressive. In fact, you hated humans the most.
Fazbear Entertainment’s solution? Make it someone else’s problem!
🧸Glamrock Freddy🎤
Kind, gentle, and understanding, he was the obvious choice. There was no better fit for the job than Glamrock Freddy. So, as the long day came to a close, Freddy was taken off to an unfinished section of the Pizzaplex. When he asked, the staff had mentioned something about the new animatronic not liking humans, thus he was left on his own at the entrance. Like a child left at the daycare for the first time, he thought.
If the daycare looked as decrepit as this place, then he supposed he could understand the child’s fear—hypothetically. Nonetheless, he swept the thought away and pressed on, through the doors. He had a duty to uphold, after all. It was time to give the newest bot a warm welcome.
The hall was quite gloomy. Shadows stretched across the near-empty room. Just past the retro arcades, there you were; alone in the darkness, just barely illuminated by the dim spotlight shining above. And how amazing you were. Freddy had never seen anything like you.
“Hello, my name is Freddy Fazbear. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he greeted. He waited for a moment, and then another but your eyes never opened. “...May I ask what your name is?”
And again, you refused to grant him a single ounce of acknowledgment. Although Freddy was privy to your standoffish façade, he hoped to at least get a word out of you. He was The Freddy Fazbear after all. No, that was just his ego talking, he knew deep down that you did not owe him your attention. You were probably just nervous, or maybe you just needed space.
The robot bear let out a thoughtful hum.
Over the next few weeks, he’d taken the time to come visit you every night. He only spent a few hours with you, sometimes just to ramble about his day, other times he’d sing, and often he’d simply sit in silence with you. You still hadn’t spoken a single word. It wasn’t really that you meant to be rude, but you had learned long ago that kindness—true kindness did not exist. There was always some kind of motive, some objective, some goal. This bot couldn’t have been any different… And yet here he was, every night, just for you. How curious, you thought.
This time though, it seemed he did have a goal. You couldn’t be sure, but there was something about his gait that felt… strangely purposeful tonight.
As usual, Freddy made his way to the right side of your auditorium and leaned himself against the wall. He didn’t face you, only gazing upon the Fazbear-themed museum you’d been forced to call home. Over the many days of construction, it had begun to look like a proper establishment. It seemed your display was nearly complete, ready to be unveiled. Normally Freddy would be excited about this, however, tonight he was starting to feel the pressure to get you talking. So, he decided to ask a question, one that had been plaguing his restless mind for some time now.
“Y/N…” he hesitated, “Was there a… Freddy at your previous location?” he asked almost timidly. You supposed it was a fair question, so for the first time, you responded aloud.
“Yes,” you said. You felt his eyes bore into you from the side. You knew he wasn’t satisfied. A moment of silence passed.
“Do I remind you of him?” he asked, though the usually calm tone of his voice seemed a bit off, a bit hurried. You considered ignoring such a ridiculous question, but it seemed your voicebox had already decided the answer.
“No,” you turned to look at him, faceplates shifting gently. It was yet another first, you met his eyes with your own, noticing how they glowed a deep, electric blue. He didn’t resemble your old friend at all, save for those eyes, and a few accessories.
“You’re nothing like him.”
Freddy wasn’t sure what to make of that, but something told him it would be best to leave it at that. Well, he supposed it was progress. You hadn’t spoken again since, but he didn’t mind and still came to visit every night. He’d never forget that look in your eyes.
🐔Glamrock Chica🍕
It had come as no surprise when the glamrocks were informed of Chica being chosen to be your talk therapist of sorts. Out of all of the band, Chica was by far the most sociable. Chit-chat and gossip were just totally her jam. Well, it wasn’t a surprise to the others, but Chica found it to be a delightful honor. To say Chica was excited would be a disgusting understatement, no; she was absolutely ecstatic.
Although she had been briefed on your little… situation, as the staff referred to it, she was confident she'd have you broken out of your shell in no time. It wasn’t until she made her way to the new Pizzaplex historical section, and caught sight of your miniature auditorium, that she finally realized the gravity of your situation.
There you were, sitting alone beneath the spotlights of your tiny glass display, entirely unlike anything she’d ever seen. Though she didn’t recognize your character, it was the odd seams lining your body that intrigued her. Needless to say, she spent a good while simply taking in your unusual features.
Of course, the fear of getting caught staring eventually caught up to her, and she figured it would be more polite to announce herself. Clearing her voice gently, she offered a simple, “Hi.” She was taken aback, however, when your eyes snapped open, and your distinct faceplates shifted apart almost instinctively.
So, you were as unique and off-putting as the staff had rumored. But Chica was a kind and open-minded bot, and she was determined to present herself as such. “Ahaha… wow! Those are some neat face… thingies you’ve got there!” she babbled, folding her clawed hands. “Oh! Let me introduce myself. My name is…?” she paused as she noticed you had shifted closer. You lifted a paw to the glass and uttered a single word.
“...Chica?”
How on earth you guessed her name was beyond her, but for you, it was simply obvious, albeit appalling. With white feathers, an orange beak, and a fashionably pink outfit, the resemblance was uncanny. For a moment, you were sure that you were standing before an old friend.
In an instant, your mind filled with memories from your days as a rental entertainer—the days of singing and dancing, the sweet scent of birthday cake, and the chilling darkness of the underground storage you had once called home.
You recalled the painfully electric discipline you and your bandmates endured, the desperation you all felt, and the heartache that festered inside you as you watched your friends escape without you. They had left you to rot. All but one.
And here you were, trapped within yet another glass prison, gazing upon the beautiful old face of the one who had never left you all those years ago. Your mouth hung agape as your voicebox desperately sputtered. Just as you finally found the courage to speak, a gasp escaped Chica’s beak.
“Woah, how’d you know my name? Are you some kind of oracle? You are, aren’t you? That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to meet one!” she squealed with the bubbly excitement of a child.
Just like that, the delusion had shattered. The awe in her starstruck eyes told it all; she was not your Chica; no, she was just another variant. Just another stranger. You felt your faceplates shift with agitation as you let your paws slip away from the glass. No words could accurately describe the complete and utter despair that engulfed you in one swift bite. Defeated, you slumped back into yourself.
“H-hey, what’s wrong? Was it something I said? Oh, I’m so sorry!” she blabbered, reaching out as if to embrace you through the glass. It was an impossible action, but how sweet it was. You scooted away and turned to face the towering wall of your little auditorium. Chica frowned and dropped her outstretched arms. She figured that was her cue to leave.
With heavy reluctance, she turned away and trudged off to her greenroom, pondering what she had done wrong along the way. Maybe it was the oracle comment? Perhaps she hadn’t been affable enough. She realized she had been a bit impolite with her gawking and all.
Or maybe she had simply overstayed her welcome. Whatever the case, she hoped she would be given another chance to make it up to you, if that was even possible at all.
🐊Montgomery Gator⛳️
Well, truthfully speaking, no one told Monty to go looking for you. No, the gator had taken it upon himself to scope out the new attraction on his own. He’d heard the rumors of course, from the catwalks where he’d always eavesdrop. The guests seemed quite excited about the reveal of a brand-new attraction, they often speculated on what could be inside. But Montgomery knew; he’d heard from the staff. They found one, a functional one, an old relic from the past. And it was strange.
What was everyone so excited about? Just some old junk and a barely operational bot? How could something like that ever compare to him? Why waste your time oohing and awing at something so… inferior, when he was standing right here? Nonetheless, he did find himself rather curious, he’d have to go and see what all the commotion was about for himself, so he found his way to the new attraction and snuck—no, barged inside.
This place was clearly a work in progress, with exposed concrete for a floor, empty display cases, and boxes of dusty nick-nacks haphazardly strewn about. He even spotted a few rusty endo-skeleton parts lying within a few of the acrylic glass cases. Creepy.
But that wasn’t what he came here for and soon enough, he found you.
All alone, sitting lifelessly, with your head slumped over. You sat on a little stage wrapped in glass, with one measly spotlight shining above. No curtains, no instruments, just you.
So that was the amazing new animatronic, Y/N the Funtime? What a joke, the gator thought as he lazily sauntered closer. Well, you certainly looked old, outdated, useless, but at least you were clean.
“Hey, newbie. Wake up,” he commanded. His voice was gruff, and his tone unfriendly; you didn’t like that. Truth be told, you didn’t from the moment he’d stepped into the attraction. Yes, you were awake and you knew he was there all along. You were a specialist in hide-and-seek, after all. But you weren’t in the mood for seeking right now, and there was nowhere to hide, so you settled for ignoring him.
“Aye, I’m talkin’ to you! Is that how you treat a new pal?” he sneered, his long tail swaying irritably. To no avail; you must not be as functional as the others said you were. “Old hunk of junk.” You were nothing special in his eyes.
However there was something that did catch his eye, and he lifted his star-shaped sunglasses to have a look. It was a rusty-looking control panel, stationed right before your auditorium, and it only had two buttons. Intrigued, Monty reached out his claws. No.
You jolted forward, faceplates gaping wide open to reveal your piercing eyes and sharp fangs as you smashed yourself against the glass. An ear-splitting screech ejected from your voicebox, rattling your entire shell of a body. Monty swung himself away from the glass.
“What in the Sam Hill?!” he shouted, though he found relief as he realized you remained within your little enclosure. If he could swear, he would’ve just then.“What the leapin’ lizards is wrong with you? Just ‘bout gave me a heart attack!”
Perhaps he didn’t get your message. You gnashed your teeth and screamed again, this time with far more ferocity. Your claws dug into the glass, and though unable to penetrate it, you were able to leave fine scratches. The gator seemed less fazed this time, though he still took a step back. “Alright, alright, I get it, I won’t touch anything,” he grunted and raised his claws. “Why’re you ignorin’ me anyway, huh?”
You let yourself relax at his admission of defeat and allowed your faceplates to draw closed. Such a punk he was, to come barging in on your space, demand your attention, and insult you to your face. What gave him the right? And now he expects an explanation? What else did he want, an apology? Such arrogance. He was about as sensitive as Foxy, you thought.
You knew he had no idea what the function of that control panel was, but the mere thought of being punished—by another animatronic no less—infuriated you. You had no choice but to scare him straight. But the more time went on, the less scared Monty became; instead, he grew irritated as well.
In a sharp, unnatural motion, you heaved yourself up from the floor. Even when elevated, you only surpassed Monty’s height by a few centimeters. Faceplates shifting so very unnaturally as you gazed upon the reptile apathetically, taking in his features. For the first time in a while, Montgomery Gator found himself nearly unable to speak. It was something about your eyes, how they bore into him, gazing so lifelessly. He wondered if human eyes ever looked like that. “...You ain’t no normal bot… that’s for sure.”
“Are you scared?” you asked. Monty glared.
“Nah, ain’t nothin’ scary. Yer jus’ a freak.” You couldn’t help but wonder if he was telling you, or himself. You tilted your head.
“It’s okay to be scared,” you said and lifted a paw to the glass. What a strangely sweet voice you had. “Sometimes you should be.”
“I told ya! I ain’t scared of nothin’. ‘Specially not no weirdo clown.” Something dark flickered behind his eyes. “Somethin’ like you don’t belong here. Not ‘n this place.”
“You should leave,” you said simply. A silence hung in the air for some time; you never broke eye contact. The spotlight began to flicker.
Monty huffed and spun on his heel. “With pleasure,” he grunted. You watched as he left with slow and deliberate steps. You wondered if he’d come back again someday. It was a lonely stage.
🐺Roxanne Wolf🦴
You stood there, gazing at your figure from the reflection glaring against the glass wall. You hardly even recognized yourself anymore with freshly groomed fur, spotless paint, and glossy eyes. It was especially odd to feel the lack of rust and dirt between your joints. It was almost as if they’d erased every last reminder of that dark time. However, the question still weighed heavy on your mind; where on earth had all that time gone?
And yet here you were, trapped within a tiny auditorium of your own, surrounded by the many familiar bits and bobs of your past. Displays full of old props, and worn machinery, sat before you. Your entire life was laid out for future tourists to gawk at. It was nostalgic, in a twisted sense, as though some part of you missed that hell hole you’d once been kept in. As above, so below, you supposed. Half heartedly, you wondered if this was how a fish in a pet store might feel. For some reason, you found a strange comfort in the buzzing of the flickering spotlight shining down upon you. You blinked at the reflection of your face—it blinked back.
The silence, save for the vibrations of electricity flowing through the walls, was broken by the sound of distant footsteps.
When the staff asked for a Glamrock to welcome you, to everyone’s surprise, Roxanne volunteered herself. She was the most popular bot for a reason after all, who wouldn’t want to meet her? The others were a bit hesitant, Freddy especially, but Roxy made the case that only a loner could break the ice with another, so he allowed it. Reluctantly.
Within the shadows of the construction zone, you stuck out like a white rabbit in the night. Roxanne approached you with a clawed paw on her hip. You watched her reflection in the glass, beside your own, analyzing her without the need to face her. She was beautiful, tall, and advanced; it seemed the new generation of bots had quite the upgrade. Though, you weren’t sure who she was. Perhaps it was a new version of Foxy? Why was she grey? As a matter of fact, why did she seem feminine? Your Foxy never had a true gendered presentation. Foxy… You wondered if they were out there somewhere. Part of you hoped they weren’t. It wasn’t that you didn’t miss them, but you knew there wasn’t anywhere for them to go—the world had no place for you Funtimes.
“You’re not even gonna look at me?” Roxanne asked. Oh, right, her. You’d forgotten she was there. With a slow turn of your head, you gazed down at her. “That’s better. Say, pup, what’s your name?”
Your name? It took you a moment to recall and though you opened your maw to respond, you decided against it. You weren’t sure if this bot could be trusted.
“Hmph. Shy types,” she said, thick eyebrows knitted. She crossed her arms. “Name’s Roxanne Wolf, your pleasure to meet me.” Oh, so she was an entirely new character. She certainly had a showmanship about her, just like Foxy. An ego.
“Somethin’ wrong with your voice or what?” she said with a sneer. “Not sure what I expected. Of course something as old as you can’t speak.” There was an air of superiority leeching from her. That distinctly belittling tone of her voice was sinking beneath your faux skin. You felt your plastic hair stand on edge—something dangerous flickered behind your plastic eyes.
“I can speak just fine,” you said. “I choose not to.”
“Well, ‘least you got a voice,” she shifted her stance, putting her weight to one side. “Got a name too?”
“Y/N,” you said. It had been a long time since you’d heard that name aloud, even longer since you introduced yourself. What a stupid name it was. “The pleasure is no one’s.”
Roxanne glared for a moment. You wondered if you had pissed her off, but why had she smirked like that?
“Y/N… suits you,” she said as her scrutinizing gaze trailed up and down your body. For some reason, you suddenly felt a bit self conscious. “So, like… What’s this whole kicked puppy act anyway?”
“What?” you asked as she rolled her eyes in response.
“Y’know, the whole ‘I’m so miserable’ look.”
You didn’t know how to respond to that and a strangely disturbing silence lay thickly between the two of you. Your faceplates twitched. You felt this irritating itch to reach out and grab her, to show her what you were really feeling; the best you could do was lean against the glass, outstretched claws tapping dangerously upon the barrier.
“Let me out, and I’ll show you,” you said with a slight tilt of your head.
Roxanne wasn’t sure what had come over you, it was as if one moment you were fine, and the next you appeared as some kind of monster. That was when she realized the soulless look in your eyes like you’d rip her apart if you could. You couldn’t, of course, but she now understood the meaning behind the “Do Not Touch” warning pasted against the glass frame. Roxy shook her head.
“Nah. Something tells me you deserve to be in there.” You watched as she stepped back before turning on her metallic heel and left. Alone at last; just like you were meant to be.
