Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hi

I'll try to keep the requirements short and comprehensive.

I will do:

•Fluff;

•Angst (both light and heavy);

•Blood and gore (including death);

•Any one of PDP's series' (FNAC(R/+), investigators, tattletail, etc) (please specify which one you want me to write about);

•Minor romance;

•AUs

(Might add more later)

I will NOT do:

•Smut of any kind;

•Shipping young characters with anyone;

•X reader or X OC, only if it's platonic;

•NO BRYAN X DYLAN ISTG

(Might add more later)

(Will delete this later vvv)

Anyways, outside of that, I'm currently writing something for FNAC+, which is +Dylan going to another FNAC series but I need ideas: which FNAC series does he go to? Where does he appear? Any requests for that?

Chapter Text

He'd promised outings to the animatronics, so that's what he did. He'd take the penguins for a ride on his motorcycle, go for walks with Scribble and Blank, take the twins to McDonald's and so on.

It was time for another walk around town with Blank, and surprisingly, Cindy asked to tag along. The duo shared a glance, shrugged and allowed it.

They went on a day off like always, and after visiting a park and a library, Cindy begged them to stop by the arcade. After a bunch of pestering and begging, the others begrudgingly agreed.

And, both surprisingly and not, they all had fun. Cindy played many shooter and racing games. Blank had a go at some older arcades and got the top score on most of them. Dylan mostly just watched while occasionally wandering off to play whack-a-mole, basketball and some other miscellaneous games.

In the end, they spent three hours at the arcade and ended up winning some dice for the twins and a pair of wavy scissors for Blank's art room.

They began heading back, conversing amongst themselves, when Dylan pulled his hand out of his pocket and a bunch of coins spilt out, many rolling into the nearby alleyway.

With a dejected sigh, the blonde waved the animatronics off, telling them he'd catch up and started collecting the dropped cash.

It took barely a minute, and when he was about to turn and leave, something glistened from deeper into the alley. Dylan squinted, approaching.

It was another coin.

The blonde picked it up with a sigh and paused, examining it.

It was... Definitely not one of his. It was some foreign currency.

But it would make a pretty neat trinket, he thought with a smile.

He stuffed the coin into his pocket and turned to leave, only to come face to face with a masked man, just a few inches shorter than himself.

Oh boy, he thought, what is it this time?

"Alright, buddy, give me all your money and I'll let you go," the man pulled out a slightly rusted knife and Dylan shuddered at the idea of being stabbed with that and probably getting twenty different diseases, "Or else."

Damn.

"Uhhhhh, can I like," The blonde scratches his chin, "Say no?.... And just go?"

The robber has the decency to look shocked at his response before shaking himself out of the stupor.

"I'm being serious here, man!" Maskie growled, "Your money or your life."

Dylan blinked, surprisingly unfazed as the robber pointed the knife at his neck.

"Yeah, sorry man," the blonde pushed past the other casually, "The answer is no thanks."

Barely a moment later, his breath left him with a wheeze as he was slammed into the wall.

"Stop joking around, jackass!" Maskie roared, spittle raining on Dylan's face, "I will fucking stab you unless you comply!"

As though emphasising the point, Maskie jabbed the knife into the wall right beside Dylan's neck, the toothy blade nicking his skin.

A pit appeared in the blonde's stomach as he felt pain blossom at the point of contact, his eyes widening a fraction.

"Al- alright, man," he raised his hands in surrender, "I'll give you the cash I have."

"Good," the asswipe grinned wolfishly, "Good."

Dylan slowly reached down for his back pocket, maintaining eye contact with the thief.

His fingers brushed against the fabric when he got cut off.

"Hey! Let him go!"

Both their heads snapped over to find a large magenta cat standing at the mouth of the alley, flanked closely by the comfortingly terrifying silhouette of Blank.

Dylan released a breath of relief, only to wince when the knife dug deeper, drawing blood. The thief wasn't even looking at him.

"You- what the hell-?!" Maskie yelped, twisting around and pulling Dylan over. He wrapped an arm around the blonde, the other securing the knife right over the centre of the taller's neck, "You get any closer and he gets it, you cosplaying freaks!"

A pair of magenta hands shot up, accompanied by a concerned expression. Meanwhile, Blank just glared.

"Hey, big fella," the robber motioned towards the whiteboard with his knife, "Follow your friend's example. Hands up and Goldie Locks over here doesn't get hurt."

Blank's eyes narrowed, golden gaze seething as he slowly put his hands up.

"Good. Real good." Maskie grinned, "Now, where were we, blondie?"

Dylan sighed, wordlessly pulling out his wallet and handing the thief all the paper cash. Probably a good four hundred bucks.

"Jackpot." The man whistled, grinning, "Now, if you don't mind..."

Maskie shoved Dylan aside, making the blonde trip and bash his head against the wall with a loud thump.

"Whoops," the robber laughed-

Only to be sent sprawling to the ground as a hard metal fist collided with his face. A snap rang out as fragile bone crumbled under the unyielding metal.

Maskie lay, writhing on the ground, when Blank rammed a foot down on his chest. Somewhere behind him, Cindy rushed to Dylan's side, helping the groaning blonde sit up.

"You are scum," Blank growled lowly, pressing down and feeling bones creak under the weight. The robber wheezed, "How fucking DARE-"

"Blank," a tiny voice rang out and the whiteboard's head snapped over to find Dylan, an arm slung over Cindy's shoulder, "That's enough, bud, you got him."

"But this ass-"

"Hey." The blonde stumbled closer, out of a protesting Cindy's grasp. He smiled at the robot, a wobbly little thing, "Let him go, bud. He's just some petty thief, it's fine."

"Dylan, he almost killed you!" Blank roared, turning completely and stomping up to the other where he grabbed them by the shoulders tightly, "How are you so calm right now!?"

"Blank," Cindy quickly butted in, ears flat against her head, "Please be careful."

The bot flinched, releasing the man.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" He rushed to ask, voice descending into a soft concern.

"I'm okay," the blonde smiled, "I might have a concussion, but I'm okay."

A soft laugh escaped Blank and he relented, letting go, "Alright, buddy."

"Can we go home, please?" Cindy asked, wringing her hands and glancing between the scene and the alley's entrance.

"Of course," the other animatronics answered, "But before that..." He turned back to the thief, now sitting up, blood trailing down from his broken nose and Blank's eyes went cold again.

He wordlessly stomped over, making Maskie cower, bent down, and grabbed the wad of cash. He paused, and with a synthetic sigh, pulled fifty bucks out of the pile and let it flutter down into the robber's lap.

"Alright," he made it to the duo, handing the rest of the money back to Dylan, "We can go now."

They quickly made their way out of the alley, the animatronics supporting their boss as they went.

"Hey, at least I got a cool coin out of it."

"Dylan..."

"I'm just saying!"

"Shush, you two, and get going!"

"Geez, alright, mom."

Cindy squawks indignantly in response.

The thief sat, flabbergasted, staring down at the fifty bucks in his lap, before a deep grimace settled over his face.

"This isn't over, Dylan."

Chapter Text

It was a nice and sunny day, and Dylan had a feeling things would not be quite as sunny inside Candy's.

Adrian had arrived in a flurry of words and excitement, blabbering on about some new discovery of his. Dylan tried not to get his hopes up.

"Hey," Adrian piped up, "Could I go see Markus?"

"Huh?" Dylan blinked out of his stupor, offering a quick, wobbly smile, "Sure, man. Think I could tag along to see Matthew?"

"Yes, of course!"

The duo make their way through the establishment, stepping into the maintenance room. Adrian takes the lead, pushing the door open and—

The reek of alcohol hits them and the duo winces simultaneously.

"What is-?" Dylan pushes past the brunette and comes to a halt at the sight before him.

The rat suit sits slumped against the wall, as though untouched, except he's surrounded by bottle upon bottle of booze.

"Oh my lord," The blonde grits out, expression shifting to disappointed exasperation.

"Da- Markus?!" Adrian rushes up to the suit, carelessly pushing the bottles aside with a clatter. He reaches out, fingers brushing against the golden cloth, "Who- why-? I- I thought-"

"Red." Dylan growls out, "Who else has alcohol and encourages others to drink if not that little shit?"

"But why?!" Adrian squawks, face pinched with sorrow.

The blonde sighs, running a purpling hand down their face, "Because... Because Red is an enabling little bastard, that's why."

The brunette makes a displeased sound, lips drawing into a thin line, "Damn it."

"Yeah," Dylan huffs out, "Look, I know it's not great but there is a silver lining, I guess. He's been fixed up so at least drinking shouldn't have messed with his inner mechanism."

Adrian's shoulders slump in shared relief and disappointment, "I... I guess."

"Okay, look, you stay here, I'm gonna go find Red and give him a piece of my mind."

"Yeah..."

The blonde turns and stalks away.

Dylan walks into the party room and his eyes zero in on a certain penguin.

"Red." He growls out.

The penguin is questioning jumps. Blue, sitting beside him, glances up as well.

"Yes, boss man?" The Aussie speaks up, already a tad nervous, "What's up?"

"Mind explaining why Markus is surrounded by booze?"

"Uhhhhhhhhh," simultaneously, Blue squawks out a quick, "Wh- what!?"

"You'd better have a really good explanation for this," The blonde crosses his arms, glaring.

"Uhm, you see... Haha, uhhhh."

"Ahuh?"

"Yeah, uh, actually, I think I left the- the stove on," Red springs to his feet, and dashes out the door, past Dylan's legs, "Let me go get it!"

"Hey! Get back here, you little shit!"

"I have done nothing wrong!"

"Don't gaslight me, you dumb bird!"

Chapter Text

Dylan opens his eyes and finds himself surrounded by the strangest individuals once again.

He opens his mouth to speak, but pauses when he notices a familiar head of hazel hair and eyes.

The brothers lock eyes. Both pairs widen as they take each other in.

"Bryan? Why do you have.... Ears? And claws...?" The blonde asks slowly.

"D- Dylan! What- you're here too?" The were creature responds, before his ears flatten with... Worry? "Also, uhm, I'm not the only one that got changed..."

The blonde's brain screeches to a halt and he finally notices the unfamiliar weight on his back. He turns his head and catches a glimpse of a dreadfully familiar purple galaxy pattern.

His breath catches in his throat and they force themself to take a deep breath before finally reaching behind himself.

It only takes a moment of grasping at air until their hand finds... Leather? It certainly feels like leather.

He pulls and tries not to flinch as the foreign limb comes into view.

It's a wing, as though that of a bat, except — instead of brown or grey — it's painted with the galaxy he'd grown to hate.

"You've got to be kidding me." He mumbles.

"Uhm..." Another familiar voice buts in, and they glance up at... Sammy? Except her hair isn't purple and green like usual, instead a mix of soft whites and browns, "Sorry to break it to you, bud, but there's more than just the wings."

The dread comes back full force and they feverishly glance down at himself.

His palms and the tips of his fingers are the same pattern as the wings, he notes with a shuddery breath.

"Actually," another familiar voice speaks up, "There's also something on your head."

He hardly even notices the strangely strong accent of Blue, his mind latching onto the words.

Head.

On his head.

They reach up with a trembling hand and to his horror he finds—

Horns.

Fucking HORNS.

They are long and smooth, aside from the ridges and the occasional scratch or missing chunk.

He thinks he could make a guess as to what they look like and probably be right.

Dylan buries his head in his hands with a loud groan, muttering a quick, "I hate this."

"Hey, it's ok, buddy," A new, unfamiliar voice pipes up and the monster blonde looks up to find a strange version of Chica, mostly white instead of the usual yellow, "I'm not really sure what's going on but I personally think you look great, man."

"Thanks, I guess..." He huffs, choosing to ignore the new appendages and instead changing the topic, "I don't know why and I don't know how but we're here to play games. Probably hide and seek again."

"I think it's because of the portal," Bryan adds, stepping closer, "It's probably also the reason we look like this," the brunette motions with a clawed hand.

"Great," Dylan grits out, "My favourite."

"Look, let's just play the game so we can get this over with and go home to our normal lives," Blue buts in, flippers folded over his chest.

"Agreed," Many chorus.

Throughout the games, Dylan keeps finding himself subconsciously going to high places — be it scaling up a tree or getting on the roof — it calls to them.

And he hates it with a passion.

It's during their last game that the blonde spots Not-Blue running towards him and doesn't think as he jumps.

He feels the muscles on his back twitch then clench and suddenly he's no longer falling.

"Hey! That's cheating!" The penguin squawks, far below.

"I have no idea what I'm doing!" Dylan calls back honestly, moments before crashing face-first into a wall.

He tumbles to the ground, groaning as he rubs his most likely bruised face and possibly broken nose.

"D- Dylan!" Bryan, recently having become one of the seekers, comes barreling around the corner... On all fours... Yeah, okay, sure, whatever, "Are- are you okay?"

The monster blonde hums, glancing up at him through his fringe, "I think so."

Bryan holds out a clawed hand and Dylan finds himself not caring that he's technically cooperating with the enemy team as he takes the offered hand and lets themself be pulled up.

"Thanks," they mumble and his brother responds with a grin, "No problem!"

The moment is ruined when he sees the other's eyes widen, mouth falling open, and then something comes down on their head.

Dylan tries not to panic as he feels his body crumble into dust. He blinks and he's on the podium, holding his seeking stick.

"I was the last one left, right?" The blonde brushes the hair out of their eyes, watching as everyone returns to the starting area.

"I think so," Not-Blue answers.

"Game over, then," they announce, hopping down from the podium and immediately being pounced on.

They look down to find Presley, his sister from another dimension, hugging him. Her lip quivers as she looks up at him.

"Sorry, Dylan, I didn't know you two were having a bonding moment," The girl mumbles, "No- no hard feelings, right?"

"Of course not," The elder chuckles, ruffling her hair, causing her to shove away from him, giggling.

"Good game, guys," Glam Chica buts in, synthetic eyes twinkling.

"Agreed," Sammy adds, smirking as she shares a fist bump with the animatronic.

"Uh, yeah," Not-Blue rubs the back of his head, "Kinda fumbled it at the end but yeah, good game."

Bryan steps forward last, offering a wobbly smile, "I hope I'll see you again soon," The brunette whispers to them, "I'd like to work towards earning your forgiveness."

"Yeahhhhh..." Dylan doesn't bother with friendliness, feeling his eyes go cold, "Good on you for wanting to try, man. But I'm not really interested."

The werewolf's face crumbles, "O- oh..."

"Don't take it the wrong way but you fu-" his eyes glance to Presley, the girl watching the scene with worried eyes, "You messed stuff up pretty bad and you should learn to live with the consequences of your actions."

"I..." Bryan's face scrunches up but he relents with a sigh," Yeah, I- you're right. You- you know I'm sorry, right? I'm really really sorry."

"Tell that to your son," The blonde hisses, faintly feeling his wings flare up behind them, "You have all the time in the world to get back to me but Gregory needs you. Needs your support and love."

Dylan turns away, gaze dark, "That's the least he deserves after everything you've put him through."

They don't wait for an answer, stalking away.

Chapter Text

It starts as suddenly as it did all the other times.

Dylan looks away from his computer and comes face to face with a stranger. A vaguely familiar one.

The blonde jolts back minutely, eyes widening.

"Dylan!" The other squeaks out, voice high pitched, and that of a prepubescent kid, "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you, silly!"

The blonde blinks, opens his mouth to speak but the boy continues before he can say a single word.

"Dad said I have to spend more time with you. Something about sibling bonding," the boy makes air quotes with a disgruntled expression.

Dylan's mouth falls open when it clicks. This kid. He's- but how- that's- it can't be, right???

"Bryan?" They ask, running a hand through their hair.

"Yes, lil bro?" The boy - Bryan? - answers, looking up at him with wide hazelnut eyes, "If you're gonna ask why I'm here, well, it's simple really! We have to play a game!"

A jolt of fear shoots through the man, his breath catching.

"Sorry, buddy, I don't have time to play right now," They spout the excuse without thinking and watch as kid Bryan wilts.

"But Dylannn," the boy whines, "You promised to play next time and now it's next time, you big dummy!"

Dylan grimaces, "Oh, uh, sorry but it's still a no."

"Oh come onnn," Bryan continues to whine, even going as far as to reach out and take their hand—

The kid continues speaking but all Dylan can focus on is the contact, the fact that he can feel it through the blight, only barely but still. The sensation is fuzzy and absolutely mind-boggling.

"—re you coming?" He feels a tug and finally escapes his mind, looking up.

Bryan is staring at him with big pleading eyes and Dylan sighs.

"Alright, fine."

"Yay!" They let themself be pulled along and out of his office.

This isn't too bad, Dylan thinks absentmindedly as he and kid Bryan play hide and seek with no strings attached. For once.

He is vaguely aware of his animatronics giving him looks and Blank even asks him what he's doing.

They respond with a shrug and a quick, "Looking for my keys," even though he is currently in the bathroom.

"Do you want help looking for them?" Blank, the godsend, rolls with it.

"I, well-" they paused, giving the whiteboard a sheepish glance, "I'm pretty sure this morning I somehow turned them invisible with my funky grape soda hands," He gestures vaguely, "And I think I'm the only one who can see them."

It's only somewhat of a lie. It isn't keys but he is the only one who can see his target.

"Oh," Blank blinks slowly, "I might as well help you look, just in case the effect went away."

"Be my guest."

They eventually find Bryan hiding under a table in a party room.

The kid jumps out at him and the pair go crashing to the floor. A moment later, Bryan is trying to wrestle him.

And Dylan?

He smiles and plays along.

A few days pass, and Dylan could not lie that he really likes having kid Bryan around, even if the boy does insult him and pick "fights" with him every few games.

It's refreshing, calming and just fun.

He could learn to live with it and be happy.

Except it's never that easy is it?

The next morning, he comes in to Candy's and finds everything as it should be. Or at least, as it was before his new mind buddy appeared.

He goes about his day, checking in on everyone before opening, occasionally glancing around for the missing boy. He does not show up.

Dylan finally goes to his office and settles down into the chair. A pit of dread has formed in his gut.

They try to ignore it, instead focusing on his computer, going through files and emails without really registering any of it.

A moment passes.

Then another.

"Hello?"

His head snaps up.

The boy is back, but his eyes seem foggy and his usual expression is replaced by a look of uncertainty.

"Bryan," Dylan breathes out, feeling a rush of relief, "Are you okay? Where have you been?"

The kid stares at him, before cocking his head to the side.

"Do I know you, mister?"

Their heart drops to their legs.

"What?"

"Have we met before? You look familiar but..."

"You don't..." Dylan swallows thickly, head spinning, "What?"

There's a long moment of silence as they stared each other down, one confused, the other growing distressed.

"You don't know me?" The blonde eventually asks carefully, voice on the edge of shaking.

"I don't think so, but you look familiar..." Bryan blinks at him, "Can you tell me who you are? My dad told me not to talk to strangers."

"I'm... Dylan," the words feel like sandpaper on his tongue, "You really don't remember me?"

"Should I?" Bryan gives him a long, blank stare and Dylan feels the pit in his stomach return. The feeling of wrongness nips at his mind.

"I-" their thoughts trail off as he hears a loud crack. His eyes widen.

Bryan continues watching him, his pupils dilating and his limbs stretching and crackling as bones bend and break.

"Oh, Dylan..." The kid- the creature's mouth moves unnaturally, hair growing inch by inch within seconds and falling over his- its shoulders. Its fingers graze the ground, long and deformed.

The thing takes a lumbering step closer and Dylan finally comes back to himself, registering the way his heart begins to hammer in his chest.

The chair clatters to the ground behind them as he stands, inching backwards.

"You are sad little thing, aren't you?" the thing drawls, face stretching and morphing before him, before it suddenly hunches, face settling into a scowl and snarls: "You are a vermin!"

A moment later, the door bangs open and Security shambles inside, their eyes meet and Dylan almost cries from relief.

He barely notices the thing move as it proceeds to pounce on him and they go tumbling to the ground.

The monster winds back its clawed hand and a few things happen at once.

Security barrels through the office, vaulting over Dylan's desk althewhile the beast strikes, long, deformed claws raking over the man's chest.

For a moment there is no feeling and Dylan almost thanks his blight for making him numb all over before his breath leaves him with a wheeze as the pain hits.

Right. Fake Bryan could touch them.

Dylan drags in a shuddering breath as he watches Security crash into the thing and the pair go tumbling into the wall with a loud crash.

He inches back as the pair tousle, Security throwing punch after punch, each time his fist collides with it, the monster's flesh makes a gross squelch and crunch.

The blonde spares a peek down at himself, and almost gags at the sight of torn open flesh and oozing blood.

He looks back up just in time to see the creature pull its legs to its stomach and kick Security off.

There's a loud crash off to the side before the beast is on them again.

Dylan yelps, covering his face just a moment before the thing slashes again, slicing through the blonde's shirt and skin like it was melted butter.

Agony ripples through their arm, blood quickly dripping down from the injury and onto his chest.

"What are you?!" He demands, teeth gritted, as drooping brown eyes stare into his own.

"What? You don't recognize your own big brother?" The bastard grins, lopsided teeth glinting, "I think I can fix that."

Dylan's next words die on his tongue as the creature peels itself away, limbs morphing once again, face stretching and pulling.

And then, just like that, he's staring at an identical copy of the real Bryan.

The blonde feels his eye twitch as he pushes himself up off the floor, anger and indignation churning in his gut.

"How dare you?" They growl, stomping closer as adrenaline washes back through his body, "How dare you take that face? Copy that form? You don't have the right, you aren't even real!"

Fake Bryan smiles too widely, his sclera darkening the further his grin stretches.

"I think this is the perfect form to torment you with..."

It closes its eyes and when they open again, its eyes are completely black.

"After all... What's worse than being killed by your own flesh and blood?"

Dylan feels the colour leave his face.

Fake Bryan takes a step closer and the blonde stumbles back in return.

"Ready to see your parents again? I'm sure they'd love to see their disappointment of a son again."

Dylan's breath catches, a pang of hurt flashing in his chest, he opens his mouth to retort, to deny, to say anything, but—

Footsteps thunder closer and then—

"Don't you dare hurt my brother!"