UT, FNaF, & BatIM Oneshots

Vincent x Reader: Part 1

Special thanks to Script_the_Demon for requesting this! 

Ugghhh, I'm so sorry for not getting to your request soon enough, it's just that I didn't really know what to put in for this story, so yeah, again, sincerest apologies.

Now, here's my first FNaF OS!

(Y/N)'s POV

Vincent's been... distant. It's been a while since his poor son died, and up to now he still hasn't gotten over it.

Sometimes you try to find a way to talk to him, but it never works. It just ends up with him saying, "Go away," or, "Leave me alone, (Y/N)."

You had actually been planning to confess to him one day, but you figured it's best not to. You know how it is when he's like this. So you give him some space and privacy.

You want to make him feel better, so you invite him to a small restaurant at the mall. You thought it would be good for him since he spends all of his time hidden in that odd, stanky pizzeria. The animatronics there always gave you the creeps, so you never really went there.

Even though you had told him to arrive at 2PM sharp, you knew that he would never arrive on time. He was always late.

As usual, you see him coming toward your table, looking drowsy and all. Poor guy. He must be so depressed.

He takes a seat in across from you, making eye contact for a moment, before looking down, putting his head in his hands.

You give him a sorrowful frown and stand up, taking the seat next to him, and hand him a cup of coffee you bought for him.

"I got it just the way you like it," you say softly, and he looks up at you for a moment. You could swear you saw him smile at you, and he takes the cup from you, taking a few sips.

"I know it's been hard on you, Vincent. But just know, I'll always be right here, okay?" You tell him gently. He pauses a little before nodding.

"Yeah, thanks, (Y/N)," he replies, his voice raspier than usual.

"But, you seem really off," you say, taking a good look at his face. He has tremendously concerning eyebags drooped under his eyelids, his eyes are sickeningly red, like he's got a fever or something. You put a hand to his neck, and his cheeks flush slightly. He's a bit too warm.

"Are you okay, Vincent? You don't feel too well," you ask, worried for his wellbeing.

"I'm fine," Is all he says.

"But really, you're-"

"I said, I'm fine." He growls, and you back up a little. After an awkward moment of silence, you turn to face the table and take a sip of your own (Preferred Beverage).

You open your mouth to say something, but figure it's better to leave it like this.

He interrupts the silence between the two of you, startling you, "I'm sorry, (Y/N), it's just... you know..."

You nod understandingly. "I see." You stand up, pushing in your chair. "I'm sorry if I made your mood worse, Vincent. I'll be leaving now." Without letting him say another word, you walk out of the restaurant, leaving him there.

~

You rub your temples, sitting silently with your elbows on the desk.

Is there anything you can do to help Vincent?  You ask yourself. It's the middle of the night, and you're disappointed with yourself for not making him feel any better. For all you know, you probably made him feel worse.