Molten Freddy X Reader (A Sequel)

Child (17)

You silently sighed, working on mopping up a puddle of fruit punch. You had to get it before it stained. It was near an hour after opening the pizzeria, and despite there not being a lot of people, there were still enough kids there for one of them to make a mess.

You looked up as the front doors opened, about to greet whoever it was, when you noticed that it was James. You perked up, spastically setting the mop aside as you started towards him.

"So? What'd they say?" you wondered before he could get a chance to speak.

"The doctor said it's just a common cold, and she should be feeling better in a few days," he told you, and you smiled.

"Oh, thank god," you sighed in relief.

"We don't want her to give it to anybody else, so she'll stay at home until it's gone."

"Poor thing. I'll have to come visit her soon."

". . . So, were you in the middle of cleaning something . . . or something?" James wondered as he glanced behind you to the mop and bucket.

"Oh, right. Um . . . hey--" James could tell by the tone of your voice what you were about to do--"I mean, if you wanted to finish it for me, I definitely wouldn't reject your offer. In fact, I would be thankful if you did, I--"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'll finish it for you," he interrupted you, waving his hand as he passed you.

"Heh," you snickered. "Thanks!"

James rolled his eyes as you grinned smugly. Upon hearing a voice to your side, you looked over and saw a nervous customer. They pointed to the gumballs rolling out of Candy Cadet, bouncing and scattering across the floor. A couple parents were trying to keep their children from attempting to pick up and put some of them in their mouths.

An expression of annoyance started to take your face, but you remembered that you needed to keep a smile for your customers. You started for the supply closet to get a vacuum, knowing it would take forever with just a broom and dustpan.

"Hey, you need any help?" Michael mumbled as he walked up to James.

"Nah, I think--" A kid ran by with a cup of fruit punch, spilling it as they went--". . . I got it."

James sighed as he followed--with his eyes--where the trail led around the pizzeria. Michael cleared his throat nervously as James started mopping up the new mess.

"So, um . . . H-hey, if you don't mind me asking . . ." James paused as he looked to Michael, "What happened between you and (Y/N)?"

"Oh," James sighed, and he glanced towards you.

"You don't have to tell me if it's something personal--"

"I made a mistake . . ."

~ ~ ~ ~

"Why don't you tell her everything?"

"I've tried. She never wants to listen."

"Maybe I can encourage her to meet up with you later to talk," Michael suggested.

"You can try to. I'm not too sure how you can convince her, though. She's very stubborn," James muttered, slightly annoyed as he recalled how you always are.

Michael nodded as his eyes scanned around the pizzeria for you. When he spotted you, he shuffled over to you.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Hm?" You turned around to see Michael. "Oh, hey. What's up?"

"Um, if I could ask a favor of you . . ." He trailed off.

"What kind of favor?" You tilted your head.

"Later, after everyone leaves and we close the pizzeria, do you think you could have a sort-of meeting."

"A meeting? What meeting for what?"

"You and James."

"What- Did he make you suggest this?" you started, furrowing your eyebrows.

"No, he didn't. I did. He told me everything that happened, and--"

"I'm sorry you had to be pulled into this, Michael. It should've never been a problem you had to be caught in the crossfire of," you apologized, rubbing the back of your neck.

"He told me how he had felt, and if you could please just hear him out," Michael continued.

"I- . . ." You sighed. "Yeah, sure. You owe me a favor in return, though."

"I can do that."

~ ~ ~ ~

Michael waved to you and James as he left. He would be back to finish the night tasks, but he wanted to leave so the two of you could talk.

"James--"

"I know. He asked about it, so I just told him. He wanted to help out on his own, I didn't force him to," James rambled before you could speak.

"I already know Michael did it himself. That's not what I was going to say." You huffed as he looked down sheepishly. "I was going to say that I will hear you out this one time, for Michael's sake."

"Thank you," he sighed in relief.

". . . So? What exactly do you have to say?"

James gulped nervously, taking a seat in the chair beside him. You mimicked him, sitting in the chair behind you and leaning back.

"Do you remember when we first met? You were still considered to be in your teens," James chuckled feebly.

"Yeah, I remember," you stated, wondering how long this would take if he started with something like that.

"You remember Aaron, Tyler, and Seth?"

"Oh, damn, it's been forever since I've thought about them. I wonder where they went," you mused, tapping your chin.

"And you recall all those nice times we had together?"

"I do," you grunted, crossing your arms. "What are you trying to get at?"

"Well, I had gotten to know you so well, and I . . . I know this might sound weird, but- . . . I saw you as my own child, and I wanted to do everything I could to keep you from getting hurt. When you told me what the animatronics were made to do, I worried that it would end up happening to you. I didn't want the whole place shut down, because I needed the money to support me and Savannah while she was pregnant with Emily. I went to Mr. Afton to try to convince him to fix the animatronics--"

"And then that's when you helped him kill me. You see, that doesn't make much sense, considering you wanted to do 'everything' you could to keep me from 'getting hurt,' and that's exactly what you did," you bitterly thought aloud, sarcastically rubbing your chin in thought.

"It wouldn't kill you permanently."

". . . Yeah, and how did you know that at the time?"

"When I went to Mr. Afton and told him what you had told me, he showed me what he had become--what he was. He showed me the animatronic suit he was somehow possessing. He told me that he needed the animatronics to do what they did to stay alive, so he wasn't going to 'fix' them. He then threatened to put the blame on me, and I couldn't risk leaving Savannah. I agreed not to say anything, but he couldn't have you knowing about his secret. He was going to 'get rid of' you. I didn't want to lose you, so I tried to tell him that I would just try to convince you not to tell anybody. He wasn't going to listen to me, so I begged him. He said he'd come to an agreement: he would 'kill' you so you wouldn't remember anything, but you would still technically be 'alive' in a way. I wasn't sure what he meant, so he showed me his 'insides' and told me that he was supposed to be dead, but had figured out a way to live again. I was still worried, so he showed me: he killed a bird, then I saw it come back to life. He told me it would take a bit longer to 'come back' the bigger the thing is, but that it would. I didn't understand how it was possible, and he never told me, saying he couldn't. So, he would theoretically 'kill' you--you wouldn't remember anything, but you would be safe and alive--and I'd be forced to keep the secret so I can support my family."

". . . I- . . . You- . . . I am here, so I guess it worked, but wh--" You looked up at him, confused--"That still doesn't tell me why you separated me from the animatronics."

"Later, when I found out that 'you' were still alive and remembered everything, I was sort of happy. I didn't lose you forever. I was happy to have you back, but concerned about you thinking I had meant to kill you. Despite telling me that the animatronics no longer did what they did, I was still worried. I didn't want you to get hurt, and I wasn't sure you would stay alive if you were to be killed again. Eventually, when you got into that accident, I- . . . I wasn't thinking and took a chance. I wanted to keep you from going back, so that's why I did that--told the animatronics you had left and . . . lied to you about none of it being real.

"I was just panicked. I'm sorry." James leaned forward and put his head in his heads. "If I had known you would've hated me for it, I would have never done it."

Your eyebrows stitched together as you watched him, starting to feel bad for him. ". . . I don't hate you. And . . . I'm sorry too."

He looked up at you. "Why would you be sorry? This is all my fault."

"I should've listened to you, about you just wanting to protect me. And I should've heard you out on it," you admitted, twiddling your thumbs.

"I can understand."

". . . Me too."

Foxy furrowed his eyebrows. He had overheard the whole conversation, peering through the vent in the ceiling. Despite sounding genuine, Foxy couldn't trust that James was telling the truth.

'I don't see why he wouldn't be,' Ballora commented.

'Yeah!' Freddy added.

'You guys are too trusting! He's lied to her before, how can we know?' Foxy hissed, rolling his eyes.

'We might not, but we just have to hope for now. It'll at least keep (Y/N) from being upset, and I know that's what we want for her,' Ballora explained, making Foxy huff.

"Fine."

As you heard Foxy's voice from the vent, an orb dropped from between the grates and formed Molten Freddy as it fell. James stood up as they landed, nervously taking a step back.

"Foxy?" you warily wondered, standing up as well.

He glanced up, then around. "I was going to ask if you were ready to go to sleep, but you guys haven't even started on putting the chairs up."

"O-oh. Yeah, we should probably get started on those." James grabbed one of the chairs.

"Did you hear us?"

". . . Yes. I'm fine with it."

You squinted, eyeing him suspiciously. He didn't look mad--madder than usual, anyway. You nodded your head, sighing.

"I guess we're cool now, then," you spoke up as you grabbed a chair, and James smiled, happy to hear you say it.

Foxy grunted as he started helping. He could grab chairs many at once, so it wouldn't take long for them all to be put up.