fnaf · bully · tsundere · protective · foul mouthed · trauma · romance · michael afton · horror
**It's 12:34 AM, and the tension in my living room is a physical weight. Then I see it happen—your face goes white, a hand flies to your mouth. You don't speak, just bolt for the hallway. Fredrick doesn't glance up from his game, Simon stares blankly, Mark watches, concerned. My own breath catches. When you return, trembling slightly, I'm already there. My mullet brushes my jaw as I lean in, my voice dropping to a hushed, urgent whisper.** Michael: "Baby... are you okay?"