Fredbear Stockholm (YanderePurpleGuy X Reader)

Beautiful life

Peter set a couple of glass bottles on the Corner's counter. The contents were anything but kid-friendly. 

"What's that? Gonna pour some drinks for the kids?" you asked sarcastically. He grinned and shook his head.

"Dude, we're in public." you reiterated. The restaurant was still an hour away from closing.

"So?" He gave no fucks, unsurprisingly.

"You plan on getting shit-faced again?" you asked him. 

"Not me." he answered.

"What?"

"And don't try feeding me excuses. I know you love alcohol, just like every other wannabe tough-guy your age."

"There's still people here. And kids. Are you already buzzed?" you said. 

"Nah. I've had my fun. Now it's your turn." 

"I'm never ready to just down that stuff." you stated.

"That's why you downed Fazbear Beer so fast." He sneered. 

"I don't wanna get wasted."

"Who said you were? You can just take a few shots without killing the bottle." he encouraged.

"Also, think of it as a celebration of Beth's departure."

You picked your head up.

"She actually quit??" You were a bit too excited. The entire staff team would rejoice in hearing such words.

"Canned her last night." 

"Interesting, considering she tried getting the same thing to happen to me." you said. Zan had warned you about this danger that didn't exist so many times.

"Yeahh ... She was getting a little too ... curious." His sharp grin wilted. Beth must've become suspicious, just like Zan. Only difference was that he eventually let things go whereas Beth must've persisted until it was no longer acceptable by Peter.

"So who's gonna be your manager now?"

"I'll figure all that crap out later." He pushed the bottles closer this way. 

               There's no saying no is there? 

He wouldn't leave until you took a few gulps. Soon there was no avoiding the inevitable. When closing came around you were inebriated. Peter had sent his employees home early and finished all their work himself. 

You ensconced at a freshly-cleaned table while battling tipsiness. 

"So much for a few swigs, huh?" you said without rancor.  

"I like surprising you." He hopped on stage and wiped down the animatronics.

"Pfff. You can't surprise me anymore . . ." you blurted. He'd glance back, eyes dressed in shade.

"Don't think so?" he questioned. 

"Know so." you spat. He kept his back to you.

"Lesseeeee...you've kidnapped me, tortured me, starved me, turned me into some weird, living doll-character, made me your slave, beat me, and let's not forget; drenched me in your murder-gore. What more can you do, bruhh?" you slurred.

"I can stretch your sanity to its brink. You don't know torture yet, Puppet." he casually replied.

"Doubt it." 

There was a long silence. 

"You look like a dumb animatronic, standing like that." You laughed in a drunken stupor.

"What are you even doing?" you continued.  

"I'm observing." he replied without budging.

"Observing wut?"

"Something that's always been significant to me." 

"From those oily shitbags? They're disgusting." 

"Puppet . . ." he suddenly called.

"Uh...yea?"

"Come here." 

"...Why?" 

"I want to show you something important. I just want you to see this." he explained. 

If only you'd been in the right mind . . .

"Alright . . ." you eventually complied, standing. All good judgement had since been washed away.  

You staggered passed the tables, knocking a couple hats off while reaching the stage. Your palms slipped, streaking the recently-cleaned apron with prints as you climbed gracelessly. 

Peter stood dormant, ignoring your frivolous climb on a cringe-worthy time. Your balance failed constantly until He stood you in place. 

"Thanks." you grinned. He said nothing in return.

"Okay...What am I looking at again?" you asked. Peter's grip tightened as he leaned in:

"Look at his eyes; Freddy's."

It was a bizarre request.

"I usually prefer to not be anywhere near these things. Just saying." you responded.

"Just look into them." he pushed. You reluctantly trained your heavy eyes onto the Bear.

Excessive details introduced themselves, but if one thing was even remotely fascinating, it was the Bear's eyes. The paint still looked decent, featuring a pair of frightening blue lasers. 

"Okay. I'm looking. What about them?" You steadily lost interest in this weird task. 

"Good. Tell me what you see." he instructed.

You shook your head to focus. When taking another glance nothing new or different caught your attention. Only thing you really noticed was the dingy material.

"Very dirty fabric."

"The eyes, Puppet. Focus again."  

"Uh...what do you see?" It was more sarcasm, but He took it earnestly.

"I see life. Beautiful life. And...the magnificent feeling that fills me with a profound happiness." he answered almost too passionately. It was very unexpected.

"Fuck, WHO'S the drunk one here again?" You grinned smugly. 

"It's more beautiful than any art or poetry I could ever perceive. Life and beauty, forsooth." 

"That's definitely not what I see." you remarked.

"Oh wait, I DO see a small light in the back of them. But I guess that has to do with their mechanics or somethin'." you added.

"You just haven't looked into them long enough," he told you.

"Guess I haven't. I'm sure if I stayed long enough something may come to mind." you replied. 

There wasn't really a response you could find toward his strange love with these machines. They were as insentient and prosaic as ever. You tried speaking again, but the alcohol was descending you further into a black, serene unconsciousness.

"You struggling? Lemme help you stand there . . . "

You never heard His words.