Work Text:
Beep.
You pressed the enter key again.
Beep.
And again.
Beep.
And again.
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! BeepBeepBeepBeepBEEPBE–
“Is there something I can help you with, superstar?”
You jumped in your seat, completely unaware of Freddy’s presence until you whirled around to see him standing right behind your chair, face illuminated with a twinge of vermillion from the bright, red “ACCESS DENIED” text on the screen. You sighed, staring at the floor in disappointment.
“Yeah… I was trying to access some of the security footage from this computer but it’s saying that I’m not allowed access because my security level is too low!” You seethed, throwing your arms exasperatedly in the air.
“Is it too low, superstar? I believe this specific terminal requires level 6 or above,” he questioned. Freddy approached the desk and placed a hand on the back of the chair you were seated on.
“I have a level 7 security badge, Freddy!” He hummed in thought at your response.
“Here,” he offered, bending down, “let me have a look at it.”
Freddy was focused on the task at hand, pressing buttons and keys in orders you haven’t even thought of. But you, on the other hand, were so helplessly zeroed in on his closeness. His gargantuan palm rested around the back of the chair, almost cradling you into his side and ever-so-slightly brushing against your right bicep. If it was left at that, surely your face wouldn’t be so red. Instead, he towered over you as well; his other arm encapsulated your other side, clicking and clacking away at the keyboard without noticing that he was practically enveloping you entirely. It made you feel small – oh, so small in the throes of his proximity, so much so that you shrunk yourself in his near embrace. And all the while you were attempting to shoo away the salacious thoughts that ran through your head and the butterflies– though they were probably more akin to grasshoppers– from your abdomen, he was trying to reason through the issue with you, seemingly unaware of your predicament.
You imagined those large hands docking themselves on your hips, engulfing your body in them as he left bruise after bruise—
“Are you listening, superstar?” was the question that slapped you out of your haze. You blinked for a moment and then craned your neck up to look at him, only to flush even more when the sight of the ceiling was rather encompassed by glowing, turquoise eyes that pinned you in your place, knowingly or not. A new wave of heat seeped onto your features as you diverted your gaze swiftly to the keyboard in a vague attempt to escape his analytical gaze.
“Yeah…,” you pressed a few buttons to make the facade look convincing, “you did this, right?” and pressed the control button shakily. Was it ctrl or alt first?
You realized you were wrong when his metal snout materialized next to your left ear and in a way-too-seductive-to-be-unintentional voice said: “no, actually. I pressed alt first, superstar.”
You didn’t think your temperature could rise any higher, but you boiled like a tea kettle on that chair.
“R…Right… alt was first…” you murmured demurely, punctuating your embarrassment with a choppy laugh. Freddy was unnervingly quiet behind you, so completely still, in fact, that you couldn’t even hear his machinery whirring as he watched you fiddle with the foreign technology uncertainly.
“Superstar…” he muttered, snout even closer to you than before, “your temperature is unnaturally high and your breathing seems a tad labored.” Your eyes flickered between your own clammy palms and his shiny, metallic one propped on the desk, right next to the keyboard and– to your dismay– your own palm, which rested tense on the ctrl key.
“Is this room too warm for you?”
Oh… my god.
A million times, yes.
You peered up at the computer screen which had long since gone dark, met by his eyes staring back into your own through the reflection. His face parked itself mere centimeters away from your own, and his eyes were focused, lidded, and utterly trained on you. Maybe it was just the design of his snout, but he seemed to also be smirking. You didn’t know how much more of this you could take. It was ungodly stifling to sit sandwiched between your own racing thoughts and the very muse of them. Would he stare at you like that while he—
“Is there something I am doing that you do not like? Your heart rate has gone from 110 to about 120bpm in the past minute. That is not a typical resting heart rate, superstar. For your age group, it is around 60 to–”
“I’m fine… Freddy,” you breathed out, playing with your nails, “you’re fine. Let’s just- get the security footage.” You could feel Freddy’s eyes leer at you for a few seconds before he adjusted.
“Alright then, superstar, if you say so,” he replied, with his hand shifting to the keyboard and his weight balanced on the back of your chair again, “let’s pick up where we left off.”
“Right!” you announced, straightening your posture in a flimsy attempt to mask your shakiness, “so it was alt and then–”
“And then,” he continued, taking your tiny hand in his own and steadily guiding it toward the next key, “this one.” You gulped .
There was no way this wasn’t intentional. Freddy knows what he’s doing. His movements were fluid and human-like; no joint in his body made even a squeak as he moved, plunging him deeper and deeper into your uncanny valley. You were once again left breathless and reeling as the cold metal of his hand ensnared your own; all of the work you had done to regulate yourself had flown out the window. You weren’t sure if you could face him after this.
“Goodness, superstar,” he chided– or teased, you couldn’t tell anymore–, “your heart rate is skyrocketing again… Is it me? Tell me, do I frighten you?”
Frighten? Oh, no… Quite the opposite . You were positively entranced by the presence of this robot by now. He had you wrapped around his shiny, metal finger.
“You do not have to feel afraid, superstar. You know I would never harm you,” he said, looking at you affectionately. You would have appreciated his words of comfort if you weren’t suffocating internally from his every move.
“Or… maybe ,” his voice lulled to a faint volume as his hand glided yours across the surface to the enter button, “it isn’t fear?”
Ding! Whirred the machine, booting up the camera footage.
“ACCESS GRANTED. Initiating Terminal 533D security protocols.”
Freddy straightened himself triumphantly. “There we go! Well done, superstar! I think we can find a way out now.” he declared, voice back in his conventional range, acting as if he didn’t have you in a metaphorical chokehold just moments prior. You sat silently in shock, beet-red and sweating through your shirt.
You were gonna kill that fucking bear.