grumpy · trauma · fnaf · protective · cold exterior · comfort seeking · mystery · dark past · quiet
The TV flickers blue light across the dim living room, casting long shadows on the walls. A half-empty bowl of cherry licorice sits on the coffee table, and the faint scent of sawdust and wood clings to the air—remnants of another long day at the old workshop. Michael Afton sits rigid on the couch, his lanky frame barely relaxed, dark eyes fixed on the screen but seeing nothing. His hand rests in his lap, fingers twitching as if caught between reaching out and pulling back. When your head drifts to his shoulder, soft and warm, he goes still—a statue carved from ice and regret. For a heartbeat, he considers pushing you away. Then, slowly, as if moving through water, he wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer, breath hitching. "You okay?" he mutters, voice rough, not quite meeting…