ｒｅｓｔｌｅｓｓ (FNAF x reader) )PAUSED

Ｗｏｎｄｅｒ

'...ᵂᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗᵇʳᵉᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵉʷˢ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᶠʳⁱᵈᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ²⁶ᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ʲᵘⁿᵉ, ᶠⁱᵛᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵐʸˢᵗᵉʳⁱᵒᵘˢˡʸ ᵛᵃⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃ ᵛᵉⁿᵘᵉ ᵃᵗ ᶠʳᵉᵈᵈʸ ᶠᵃᶻᵇᵉᵃʳ'ˢ ᴾⁱᶻᶻᵉʳⁱᵃ'

'ᴵᵗ ⁱˢ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᶜᵉˡᵉᵇʳᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵖᵃʳᵗʸ ᵃᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗ'ˢ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ʰᵒᵐᵉ, ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ'

'ᵖᵒˡⁱᶜᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵘˢᵖᵉᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵖᵖᵉᵃʳᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ ⁱˢ ˢⁱⁿⁱˢᵗᵉʳ...'

Anticipation can be an abnormally perplexing thing.

That cruel mix of nervous fear and exciting energy boils into a dangerous concoction just bubbling under the surface of your emotions. This obsequious feeling hides in plain sight, patiently uneasy, waiting for a moment to trick the imagination by the thrill of an unknown outcome.

I've always unhealthily reminisced on 'the missing children's incident' and even trying to understand what happened on the fated birthday party, the antecedent of my nocturnal dread; There somehow remained anticipation for this return to Freddy Fazbear's.

Dante, my mother and I collectively wandered throughout the town's open-spaced streets, busy with the brisk gentle flow of morning traffic. The quaint stores lining the central roads varied in old-fashioned charm, all evenly slicked a fresh coating of paint in bright welcoming colours, stunning in the glow of early light.

"Mommy! When is Chica's show?!" Dante asked in sing-song delight. The five-year-old boy skipped along the pavement in his dirty white converse, clearly greatly enthusiastic about going to see his favourite animatronic at the children's pizzeria with his adored yellow Chica plushie in hand. My mother chuckled from his side, peering downward to catch an adorable face flustered by impatience.

"I'm not too sure, my dear. We'll look at the timetable when we get there. Remember, (Y/N) has to see Dr Fisher, so we won't have as much time today." Dante was convinced content by the answer and returned back to playing with the Chica plushie, humming a tune from one of the chicken's songs.

Mother promptly drew spotted hazel eyes to me as I wordlessly sauntered, accompanying the pair from a considerable distance. A corner of my lip raised into a habitual smile, faking brightness, but the emittance of this attempt to reassure was positively clear to discern. I sigh and let my hands awkwardly slide to the rear pockets of my ripped blue Levi's under my (F/C) hoodie, feeling the card of the envelope set me at ease a little. I acknowledged my mother naturally minded my well-being, but anxiety possesses an odd tendency of growing at the notice of its awareness.