CONTENT WARNING: various mentions of self esteem and body image issues
GENERAL HEADCANONS:
Roxanne has made several of her assistants quit in the past
She has severe self esteem issues (and body dysphoria)
She only allows those close to her to call her Roxy (Glamrock Chica calls her 'Annie')
Monty and her are very close friends (they can be found gossiping together or doing each other's nails) (Glamrock Chica is also a close friend of Roxy's)
She masks her pain, and this comes out in the form of aggression, arrogance, and self confidence.
DATING HEADCANONS:
Reader works as Roxanne Wolf's assistant
She will do your makeup if you let her
Her love languages include quality time and physical touch, and those are the two languages she'd like to recieve
Roxy thinks she doesn't deserve you, and has times where she thinks she's too ugly to be with you
^ Due to this, she often doesn't believe most compliments you give her
You attend her shows when you're not busy
Her main interests are beauty products, fashion, beauty in general, go-karting, the wild west, and anything related to the alt, scene, and punk aesthetics, and she will talk/rant/yap to you about all of those things if you let her
Roxy will sometimes start pillow fights with you
Dates primarily include eating at one of the Pizzaplex restaurants, hanging out in her green room, and go-karting
Can I ask for Freddy, Chica, Roxy, and Monty with an S/O who likes to roller skate in the PizzaPlex overnight and brought some big enough for them to join?
🎩Glamrock Freddy + "Rock N' Roller(skate):"🎩
There are a lot of things Freddy is good at! Rollerskating is...not one of them. It's quite embarrassing, really. He's mortified that he's going to make a fool of himself in front of you, but if you really want him to try...he'll do it. For you, superstar. You may have to guide him through it, though. At least, until he gets the hang of it! Which he will, of course. He just...needs a little practice, first.
🐊Montgomery Gator + "Rock N' Roller(skate):"🐊
Monty sucks at rollerskating, period. He's big, he's clumsy, and he keeps tripping over his own damn feet. But it's not his fault--it's these freakin' skates! They don't fit right. And the floor is too slippery! And his laces were undone! And--(Yeah, yeah, sure.) Eventually he just goes off to the side to sulk. He just wanted to look cool in front of you, and now he looks like a total loser!
🍕Glamrock Chica + "Rock N' Roller(skate):"🍕
I love to imagine that Chica is great at rollerskating. Out of the band, she's the best at it. She's even got her own skates! They've got her face on them! The two of you are twirling around the ring for hours on end, hand-in-hand, dancing and grooving and having the best time. She only stops once it's snack time, because who can say no to a good post-Skate Date pizza?
🐺Roxanne Wolf + "Rock N' Roller(skate):"🐺
Does she know how to skate? Pssh, yeah, obviously! Just. Hold her hand for a second. Why isn't important, just don't let go! Okay, fine...she doesn't know how to skate at all. She never learned, okay? And she pouts about it even more than Monty. It's not her fault she's bad at this! It's the skates! They're what's broken, not her! (She's gonna be sulking about this all night.)
I was thinking about working at the Pizza Plex and how in Help Wanted 2 Roxy REALLY needs affirmations that's she's beautiful and the star of the show.
SO. It came to my mind that the workers probably either tiredly affirm to her or nervously tell her she's amazing.. But what if someone actually genuinely was affirming to her that they think she's cool because they actually think she's cool? Would her programming pick it up? I honestly don't know, but, I think it'd be absolutely adorable if she could pick up on the differences and started specifically asking for you to do her make up.
Could I request Roxy x GN reader comfort? 👉👈 I've been having a hard time lately and need some luv
thanks bestie! :3
OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY FOR PUTTING THIS ONE OFF... I hope you're doing okay!! My dms are open for anyone going through something.
You were sitting in your bed, you barely had the energy to pick up your phone to doomscroll on every media app you have on there. You didnt even know why you felt like this, it just happened when you woke up and now you just... stared at the wall mindlessly, focusing on whatever issues you may have in the moment. That was before your roommate Roxy barged in.
''OOOOHHH MY GOD, guess who just- woah dude. you... you good?'' She asked, going to sit next to you. You didn't notice how you looked, and you're realizing you were crying subconsciously. oh. fun! ''You wanna talk about it, hun?'' She put her hand on your shoulder. You shook your head.
''You want cuddles or... nah that sounds cringe asf uhhh pretend there was a less cringy way of saying cuddling.'' You chuckled at her rambling, adjusting yourself so Roxy could lay next to you and hold you. She held you close, softly caressing your hair comfortingly.
''It'll be okay... I dunno what you're going through but... Dude if you ever need a distraction or comfort please come to me... I wont bully you, depending on what it is. I'm here for you, babes.'' She hummed, resting her chin on your head. God, she knew how to make you feel better.
''You... wanna watch a movie later, when you feel better?'' She asked quietly. You responded with a nod, chuckling softly.
Glamrocks+Sun and Moon with an S/O who loves to sing!
——————————————————————————
🐻Freddy🐻:
-He ADORES your voice.
-He is your personal hypeman.
-Sing one of his songs and he’ll melt.
-He’ll keep mental notes of all the songs you sing or hum around the ‘plex so he can learn them and sing with you!
-Duets are his favorite!
-He’ll show you off to everyone!
-Gregory also likes to hear you sing whenever he’s around.
-He told Freddy this, and now the teddy bear uses that as an excuse to hear you.
🐤Chica🐤:
-She loves when you sing while she plays her guitar!
-She asked you what your favorite songs are, and learned to play each of them!
-She’s not shy about loving your voice, she’ll up and ask you to sing at any given moment throughout the day/night.
-She’s not much of a singer, but she eventually warms up to humming along with you.
-She loves getting to listen to you after her performances.
-She also shows you off, but to a much higher scale.
-Anytime the two of you are together around the others, she gushes over you.
-“You have to hear them sing! Come on, sweetpea, sing that one song!”
🐊Monty🐊:
-Your voice is the only thing that calms him down post-performance.
-He could be going straight brazy in his room and the second he sees you, he’s immediately stopped.
-He’ll eventually start waiting for you in his room, knowing you’ll be there to lull him back to his calm state.
-Though, depending on what you sing, he might just continue going off.
-If you have the ability to scream, (like metal lmao I’m sorry) he’ll be putty in your hands.
-He doesn’t sing. Never.
-But he’ll knock out a beat on a wall or table whenever you sing. (I HC that he was programmed to be a drummer before becoming the bassist for the Glams)
-Biggest hypeman in the lineup.
-“Fuck yeah! That’s my baby!”
-Somehow, hearing other people praise your voice inflates his ego, too.
-“Damn right! My rockstar sound like an angel, don’t they?!”
🐺Roxy🐺:
-You didn’t even realize it the first time you sang around her, but she cried.
-She loves you so much, even if she’s not the best at showing it.
-If you sing to cheer her up when she’s feeling down about herself, she’ll be attached to you for the rest of your life.
-The least likely to show you off, only because she believes that she’s the only one who deserves to hear you sing.
-She will brag about you though.
-“Oh, you heard singing from my room last night? Yeah that’s just my amazing partner, hope you aren’t too jealous!”
-She will hum with you, and sometimes will sing with you.
-Honestly, she’s just obsessed with you, and your voice.
🌞Sunrise🌞:
-PLEASE NEVER STOP SINGING!
-He’ll beg you to sing for him at all hours of the day/night.
-If you’re around during the day, he’ll ask you to sing for the kids.
-Of course, the kids love you so much.
-“Y/N! Y/N! Can you sing Let It Go again?”
-Of course, Sun gets easily distracted by your voice.
-He has to force himself to focus on the kids whenever he happens to hear your soft voice echoing throughout the Daycare.
-He wishes he could just sit and listen to you forever.
-He feels bad whenever you get a sore throat, especially since he’s the one who urges you to sing so much.
-But when you reassure him that it’s okay, he’ll be elated.
-He’ll be back to begging for your singing the moment you say you can.
🌝Moondrop🌝:
-Like Monty, your voice is the only thing that calms him when he’s erratic.
-He loves watching you lull the kids to sleep, and occasionally finds himself drifting off as well.
-He’s entranced every time you open your mouth.
-The only time you’ve ever heard him sing was one night, when one child wasn’t able to sleep.
-The young girl was used to hearing you sing her to sleep, and unfortunately, you weren’t there at the time.
-Moon stressed himself out, desperately trying to calm the girl.
-When he finally realized it was the singing she was missing, he softly hummed the same song you’d always sing to the kids.
-When humming didn’t work, he nervously sang the song, his voice warbling ever so slightly.
-You walked in right as he began.
-You sang along with him, and the girl happily clapped along.
-Moon refuses to acknowledge it, but you saw the big smile, and gentle eyes he had in that moment.
——————————————————————————
Hoo-wee! I thought this was cute, and I hope y’all like it! If you have anything specific you want to see, feel free to send requests! I love you all, have a wonderful day!💕
EDIT: A more polished version is now up on ao3. If you're re-reading it or sending it to someone, then the ao3 version is preferred, but it's not changed enough that I would necessarily suggest re-reading it again if you weren't already going to. <3
For some reason, last night, I decided that it was imperative I write and release a Roxy x Reader oneshot before Ruin. (ETA: To be clear I mean I wrote this before Ruin released, therefore it contains NO SPOILERS. <3) It's an idea I've had for awhile and was going to do as a comic but decided to expand it and write it out instead. I may post a more polished version to ao3 at a later date.
Fun fact: Roxy was my first FNAF crush, before SB even came out. So Ruin will have many chances to break my heart.
Word count: ~3200
----
When the Pizzaplex burned down, none of your colleagues had seemed particularly interested in returning to the ruins. You could understand…some of the techs arriving for the morning shift had been caught in the blaze, and while there were no casualties, there had been some injuries. Yourself included.
After a few weeks in the hospital, the burn mark across your face was just an angry red scar, and the singed hair you’d had to cut off had regrown enough for you to wear a slightly uneven pixie cut.
The other techs said you were crazy to want to go back. The future of Fazbear Inc was uncertain, and the animatronics themselves were just that. Animatronics. Machines. Not worth putting yourself in danger for.
But you’d come to consider Roxy a friend. Sometimes you thought she considered you one, too. She didn’t seem like she would readily admit such a thing even if it were true.
She had at least liked you as a tech, if not as a person. You were the only one who could do her pre-show checks and weekly maintenance without ruining her hair, at least according to her. According to the other techs, Roxanne’s hair was always fine.
You quickly learned that to Roxy, “fine” was equivalent to a reprehensible failure. A disaster. A complete horrific mess.
You didn’t think your experience with costuming (specifically wigs) in your college’s theater club would ever be something you used after you graduated, but life is full of surprises.
You wander through the corridors of your ruined, burned out workplace, flashlight in hand. You have a few guesses as to where Roxy might be. You desperately hope she’s okay. The structure is mostly intact, but there are a few collapsed portions and fallen bits of decor. You think as long as Roxy had been able to avoid the worst of the heat, she’d be mostly alright.
You make your way to Rockstar Row, your workboots crunching on the debris as you walk.
As you approach Roxy’s room, you hear something that makes you freeze.
Crying.
For a moment you wonder if another tech, or perhaps some urban explorer or rubbernecker is in here with you. Then you recognize the voice behind the sobs.
Roxanne is crying? You’re more surprised than you probably should be. But you’d seen behind her mask a couple times. Behind the vanity, haughtiness, and borderline entitlement, you had occasionally glimpsed a profound insecurity. Beneath it all, you don’t think Roxy actually likes herself very much.
You swipe your badge on the door, and it actually dings and slides open. Or tries to. Something jams it halfway and you have to wedge yourself into the doorframe and push the door open the rest of the way.
Roxy, who had been sitting at her vanity, head in her hands, perks up. Her ears twitch as she glances around. “Who’s there?” she calls out.
You open your mouth to speak, only to leave it hanging open in surprise as you see how badly she’s damaged. So much of her exoskeleton is missing, exposing the endoskeleton underneath. Her hair is a tangled, singed mess and her tail isn’t much better. But most horrifying, her eyes are completely gone.
“Who’s there?!” Roxy repeats, a growl in her voice as she stands up and starts stalking towards you. You can hear the servos and joints in her body creak in protest as she moves.
“R-Roxy, it’s me!” you say before hastily blurting out your name.
She stops, her ears twitching and her claws grasping at the air. At first you think she’s baring her teeth at you, but you quickly realize her broken faceplate has put one side of her mouth in a permanent snarl.
She huffs, turning away. She skulks back to her vanity, plopping down in her chair and burning her broken face in her shattered hands. “What do you want?” she mutters.
You tense, taken aback. “Wh-What do you think I want, Roxy?” you ask incredulously, slowly moving towards her. “I-I wanted to know you were okay. I wanted to help you. I was…terrified you’d…been destroyed,” you say quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She pulls away with a growl. “I have been destroyed! Just--Just look at me!” The rage in her voice doesn’t fully mask her despair, nor does it completely hide her fear. Fear of what? Of what could have happened? Of how close she came to being permanently deactivated?
Her command was clearly rhetorical, for she lowers her head further, digging her claws into what remains of her scalp.
“Roxy…all this can be fixed…” you say gently.
“No it can’t!” she snaps. “I already checked. Parts and Services is a pile of rubble now.”
“Well…what about the loading docks? Maybe we can at least find some new eyes for you…”
She scoffs. “Oh good. Then I can see myself. Because feeling all this isn’t bad enough,” she sneers, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Roxy--”
“FINE!” she growls, pushing back from her vanity abruptly. If the chair weren’t screwed into the floor she surely would have toppled it over. “Fine. Let’s just go.”
You flinch nervously, nodding. Remembering her blindness, you quickly say, “Okay. Here,” you say gently putting a hand on her arm.
“Don’t touch me!” she snaps, though she sounds somewhat less defensive and a bit…nervous? Embarrassed? With a huff, she adds, “I’ll just follow your footsteps.”
You bite back a sigh. “Alright,” you say patiently.
You lead the way out of her green room towards the long stairway down to the loading docks. You’re not about to risk trying to take the elevator.
“Here, careful on the stairs,” you say, gently taking her arm again. This time she allows it, albeit with some reluctance as she gives you what probably would have been a withering look if her faceplate had been intact.
It’s a long way down and neither of you want to rush. The sound of your softer footfalls and her heavier ones as you both pick your way down the stairs echoes through the stairwell.
Thud. Clunk. Thud. Clunk. Thud. Clunk.
You watch her carefully. She seems too focused on making it down the stairs to be too sulky for the moment. Small blessings, you suppose. Still, the silence is only stretching out your descent.
“It sounds like one of your knees is out of alignment,” you say eventually.
“The left one,” she confirms a bit gruffly. “I can manage.”
“I can see that,” you say gently. “It took me awhile to notice something was even wrong. You carry yourself well,” you say, smiling a bit.
Roxy grunts in acknowledgement, but doesn’t preen even a little at the praise. That’s unusual for her…compliments usually cheer her up.
“Maybe I can find a new hinge while we’re--”
“Why are you doing this?” she cuts you off.
“W-What do you mean?” you ask, stopping in the middle of the flight of stairs.
“Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean,” she says. Before you can speak, she continues, “This whole place is finished. Nobody’s coming back to rebuild. What’s the point of you patching me up?”
“I told you, Roxy…I was worried…” you start as you resume your climb down the stairs.
“Why?”
“Because I care about you!” you say, exasperated as you reach the bottom of the stairs. You keep your hand on her arm as you make your way down the corridor, and she doesn’t protest.
She snorts. “You care about a pile of scrap?”
You wish she could see the glare you give her at that. “You are NOT a pile of scrap! You’re just a little scuffed.”
“More than a little,” she huffs.
You sigh. “Okay, maybe a little more than a little,” you admit. You force a smile. “But hey…I’m the perfect tech, remember? If anyone can get you fixed up, it’s me, isn’t it?”
You weren’t normally any kind of braggart. Roxy had been the only one to ever call you the perfect tech, though you feel like that was almost more a point of pride for herself rather than for you. As if she were praising herself for being deserving of the best tech more than she’s praising you for being the best tech. But you still liked hearing it…and sometimes it really did seem like she was directing the praise at you.
Roxy turns her head towards you, her ears swiveling forward. It’s hard to read her expression with her broken faceplate, but eventually one side of her mouth ticks up into a small smile. “...Yeah…” she admits softly.
You squeeze her arm gently, careful to not touch any of the sharper broken off bits.
Once you get to the loading dock, you guide her to sit down on a crate while you look through some of the recent part shipments.
The fire had somehow spared much of this place, but the collapse of P & S had rippled partially through the area and several patches of ceiling had fallen, knocking over piles of crates and leaving the whole place in disarray.
Eventually you find a crate that has the P & S stamp on the wooden slats, and figure that’s a promising place to start. You grab a crowbar and begin trying to pry it open in any way you can.
Roxy’s ears perk and she turns towards you. “What are you doing?”
“Trying--urg--to get this crate open,” you grunt.
She stands and walks towards you. “Let me,” she says. She reaches towards you, trying to determine your position.
You take her hand, your fingers weaving in hers for a moment before you guide her hand to the crate.
“Thanks,” you say, stepping aside.
“Well…pretty silly to make a human do all the heavy lifting,” she says, digging her claws into one of the planks. The wood splinters and creaks and is readily ripped free.
You smile weakly. “You’re right…these arms would never have a fraction of your strength,” you say. Jokingly, you lift your arm and flex…only to realize Roxy won’t be able to see it.
Probably for the best. It was a dumb joke anyway.
She snorts, actually preening a bit as she pulls another board free. “Even busted…” she agrees softly. Her tone is slightly melancholy…as if she doesn’t fully believe it.
She pulls another board free, and you put a hand on her shoulder. “I think that’s enough for now,” you say, guiding her back to the crate she had been sitting on before.
You begin pulling the smaller boxes from the shipping crate, cutting them open and rummaging through them, looking for anything usable.
Once again, the silence stretches on.
After finding nothing useful in the first two boxes, you glance back at Roxanne. Her hand is over her face, her middle finger slowly tracing the cracks near where her eyes had been. The quiet isn’t doing her any favors.
You shove the box you were looking through aside and pull out another, cutting it open. “Roxy?” you break the silence.
“Mm?” she grunts, still more focused on her faceplate than you.
“You…d’you um…remember that time we ran out of driver bots and that angry dad yelled at me?”
She pauses briefly, turning her head towards you. “What about it?” she asks before going back to feeling her faceplate.
“You remember what you said to me?”
“I called you an idiot.” Was that a touch of guilt you detect in her tone?
You laugh weakly, nodding. “Yes. But you remember why?”
“For letting a loser like that get under your skin,” she says plainly.
“Right,” you say, smiling. “I think about that a lot, you know.”
Roxy scoffs. “Really? Freddy said I was too rude,” she says. If she had eyes she would have rolled them.
You let out a gentle chuckle. “Well…maybe a bit,” you admit, earning a slightly sulky huff from her. “But there was truth to it, y’know? And I think about it a lot. It uh…it’s…helped me. Deal with people like him.”
She cants her head, one ear flicking curiously. It’s a cute expression even with her broken faceplate. “It…did?”
“Yeah,” you say, pulling out another box and opening it. “I-I mean…you were right. I knew he was a loser but I still told myself his opinion meant something. But it doesn’t, y’know?”
“Yeah,” she agrees quietly.
The conversation lapses again, and you try to resist the urge to slow your search in order to come up with a new topic. Luckily, it is Roxy who picks the next topic.
“You remember that time a birthday party ran long, and I was late getting back to the recharge station?”
You freeze. Oh you do remember. You remember that evening well. The animatronics tend to get a little quirky when their battery dips below five percent. Something about a power save mode cutting power to random systems. Usually mobility, but somehow, their…inhibitions, for lack of a better term, also seemed to go by the wayside. As far as you know nobody ever quite understood why, but it was a little like getting loopy from lack of sleep, or even a bit tipsy.
Roxy smirks, hearing your stunned silence. “You do.”
“Y-Yeah…I…I wasn’t sure if you did, though.”
“I remember the important parts.” Before you can start to wonder what the “important parts” are in her mind, she continues, “You’d finally used that salon voucher I gave you for your birthday. Gotten your hair done. Actually wore it down. I never understand why you hide such long pretty hair up that bun.”
You fluster a bit. “Th-The dress code--”
“Oh, you do it without the dress code,” she scoffs, flicking a hand dismissively.
You clear your throat awkwardly, pausing to rub at your cheeks as if you can wipe the blush away. “W-What’s your battery at, by the way?”
She snorts. “Just an idle wondering?” she smirks. “It’s twenty-two percent.”
So it’s not her low battery talking…
Roxy continues, “You know…if you can find a set of replacement eyes…I wouldn’t mind seeing your hair down again,” she says, actually sounding wistful, of all things. You don’t know if you’ve ever heard her sound wistful.
You sigh softly, running a hand over your chopped off hair. “Y-Yeah…” you say, noncommittally.
She glances at you questioningly, sensing something in your tone. But before she can comment, you cut open another box, and find it has the spare eyes you’ve been looking for.
“Found the eyes!” you say. Some of the happiness in your tone is genuine. You grab two amber ones, going over to her. “They’re just standard optics, so you won’t see as well as you’re used to, but…it’ll do for now,” you say, guiding her to lay on the floor.
Her smile fades slightly and she nods, reality setting back in. Despite your claims that you could repair her, she wasn’t convinced she’d ever be as good as she was before. “Guess it’ll have to,” she mumbles.
You put a flashlight in her hand and position her arm to shine it down on her faceplate, giving you light to work with. Your toolkit is beside you, with some extra lengths of wire and soldering iron to work with. As you cut away the burned wires, murmuring apologies whenever Roxy flinches, your mind drifts back to that evening.
Her power had been at one percent when you finally coaxed her into her recharge station. Before you did, though, she had leaned down and pressed her lips to yours. You think she had been trying to nuzzle your cheek. Even “drunk” you don’t think she wanted to kiss you like that.
Neither of you had ever spoken of that night again, until today. She must not remember the kiss, you decide. She wouldn’t bring up that night at all if she did.
The truth is you’ve carried a small flame for her ever since then. Or perhaps a little longer, if you were more honest with yourself. Nothing you couldn’t ignore most of the time, of course…but something that had occasionally managed to put a bit of warmth in your heart when you allowed it to.
But none of those silly little what-ifs you’d allowed yourself to daydream of would ever come to pass now.
You wire in the eyes, then carefully fit them into their sockets. As they come online, the attached eyelids blink shut against the light.
You quickly turn away, keeping your back to her as you pack up your toolkit. “Th-They working okay?” you ask. It’s silly to turn away like this. You can’t possibly delay her seeing your scar for more than a couple minutes. Why even bother trying?
She moves the flashlight out of her eyes and sits up, looking around. “Yes,” she says. She pauses. “...Better than I thought. I forgot the standard optics still have night vision.”
You laugh weakly. “Another thing you have over me, then,” you say in what you had meant to be a good natured tone, but you couldn’t quite keep the melancholy from your voice.
Roxy catches it and glances at you curiously. She stands up, then reaches down a hand to help you up.
Well. No more putting it off.
You bow your head slightly as you turn to take her hand, letting her pull you to your feet. When you stand before her, you finally lift your head to look into her eyes, giving a small, tentative smile that borders on apologetic.
Roxy stares down at you, her mouth opening slightly in surprise. “Wh-What…happened…?”
You sigh, glancing away slightly. “I-I…got to work early, and…I was upstairs when the fire started. It…spread so fast I…had to cut through some pretty bad areas. I-I mean. I guess, something like that…I-I don’t really remember…” you say, your voice starting to shake.
Roxy’s hand is on your cheek, turning your face back towards her as she examines your scar.
You feel your face growing warm. “I-I don’t know how I got the scar, really…The EMTs found me passed out in the employee parking lot.”
Roxy smiles sadly. “You were strong enough to save yourself.”
You blush deeply at the compliment, lowering your gaze. “I-I guess so…”
She runs her thumb over the scar, tracing the ridges of the shiny, discolored skin. “Can it be repaired?” she asks, her tone more gentle than you’ve ever heard from her.
You shake your head, resisting the urge to nuzzle into her palm as you do. “Not…really. My hair will grow back and the scar will probably fade a bit, eventually, but…it’ll…probably be pretty noticeable for the rest of my life…” You feel tears brimming at your eyes and force out a weak laugh. “C-Can’t really…uh…s-switch faceplates on a human…y-y’know?” you say in a wavering tone.
Roxy hums quietly, bringing her other hand up to cup your other cheek. “No need,” she says, lowering her head and gently nosing at your scar.
Your breath stills at her words, your eyes widening in surprise. You’re almost not sure you heard right.
She pulls back, smiling down at you tenderly. “You’re still beautiful,” she murmurs, leaning down and pressing her lips to yours.
