Owning a pizzeria had gone differently than you ever imagined, and that was saying something considering Fazbear Entertainment’s reputation. You weren’t talking about bankruptcy scares, or how Lefty had somehow only cost five dollars, or how Scraptrap occasionally crawled inside Nedbear like some horrible mech suit. No.

It was something else entirely.

You had expected the scrapped animatronics to be… well, murderous. Scrap Baby was relentlessly mean to you. Scraptrap was... that was a subject best left locked in a metal box and thrown into the ocean. Lefty was quiet enough to make silence uncomfortable.

But Molten?

Molten Freddy had never fit the pattern.

From day one, he didn’t try to kill you. He didn’t insult you. He didn’t stalk you with the sole intention of ripping your face off.

Instead…

He laughed. He joked. He giggled at himself like he found the world entertaining in ways nobody else could see. He was calm sometimes, eerily calm, almost gentle. And then clingy. And then somehow both.

You still had no idea how it happened, but one day he just… imprinted on you. Fully. Completely. Emotionally velcro’d.

Now he was..confusingly your...best friend?

He followed you everywhere. During the day, he stayed out of sight, curling himself up among the rafters or vents where no one could see, but always keeping you in view. At night, he stuck to you like a shadow, never wandering far, wire-tendrils clicking softly across the floor as he trailed behind you.

Obsessed? Clingy? A lonely Funtime amalgamation desperate for connection?

You didn’t know. But you’d gotten used to it. Weirdly.

So when you were working late in your office and heard the familiar clatter of metal shifting through the vents, it wasn’t surprising at all that Molten dropped into the room like some monstrous metallic slinky.

He dangled halfway out of the vent, wires coiling and uncoiling until he lowered himself completely. Without asking, not that he ever asked, he stretched down and rested his chin directly on top of your head.

And then… settled. Like a cat. A giant, heavy, wire-covered, eldritch cat.

A few of his wires draped across your shoulders, curling around you in a way that was half-hug, half-possessive anchor. His warm, glitchy eye flickered as he peeked at your computer screen.

He didn’t speak. Just watched. Comfortable. Lazy. Soft little mechanical whirs filling the silence.

After several minutes of bearing his full weight, you finally muttered, “You’re heavy.”

Molten let out a lazy, amused half-chuckle, the kind Invisible Davis makes him do, airy and static-filled.

“Hehehe… too bad, so sad~…”

Yeah.

Molten wasn’t moving.

And deep down, you knew he didn’t plan to. Not until he wanted to. Not until he decided his clinginess quota had been met.

…which could be hours.