Five Nights At Freddy's Follow Me Novels & Stories

With fifteen minutes to go, the other members of her team had assembled. Tension was high but so was excitement. Godfrey, one of the staff in her office had congratulated her on landing the biggest client for Golden gates thus far, but he’d acted distracted and distant. Chloe wondered if he was indeed having issues with the rumored girlfriend.... Or maybe he was as nervous as she was. The others had all been quick to add their congratulations. No contract had been signed, but they all seemed convinced that after this morning, Packard Enterprises would be in the bag. She hoped they were right.

He asked. “Good, but this guy over here picked me up and started to run out of the concert before it was over with, and now here we are,” I said. “What, you know I have a surprise for you, and I want to get there before it gets daylight, ok baby,” I said. “Ok, you got my attention now. Where are we going at, babe,” she asked. “Nope, a gentleman, do not tell,” I said. “Oh, gentleman, my ass, haha,” Freddie says.

And I’m going to burn the whole fucking world down to bring you back. I stopped at the abandoned building—cracked walls, flickering lights, reeking of rot and old blood. My boots echoed in the silence. The bastard I’ve been hunting for months—James Arthus Frederick—stood in the middle of the open floor, smug, dressed in a white suit like he was some kind of godfather. Perfect.

one of them mocked. Inner Devil 2: ‘Let me out. I need to slap that woman’s face!’ “All this drama! Just leave,” said the redhead. Losing her patience, Freya texted Kenneth: [I’m in Freedonia, at your building lobby. Your receptionists refused to inform you. I need to speak with you. It’s life or death.] She called again. And again. “I think it’s time to call security,” the redhead murmured. Then, finally, Kenneth answered. “Freya.”

I reached for the throw blanket. “You really think I wouldn’t notice someone lifting me?” came her voice, low and groggy. I jumped a little. Freya cracked one eye open. “I’ve been in a mafia house for more than forty-eight hours. My senses are heightened.” I stared. She yawned, then stretched like a sleepy cat. “Also, you’re not that subtle.” I blinked, then grinned. “Noted.” There was a pause. Then she sat up suddenly. “I want chicken.”

I jumped on my bed and checked my phone, seeing a text notification plastered on my screen. Of course it just had to be my damned mother. Who else could it be? Lyssa Hendrix, the "queen" of the mafia. She was nothing better than my father; if anything, she was worse. She was cold, brutal, and didn't care about anything but herself. It disgusted me. I opened my phone, reading the text. "You're coming clubbing with me tomorrow. It's going to be so much fun!"

For three years, I worked three jobs a day to send Wendy Stallone to university. In the end, I ended up doing all the chores at home as well. On the day Wendy graduated, the Stallone family came to bring her back to the family, and she turned into a socialite overnight. Everyone said my years of hardship had ended, and I was about to become rich. During the celebration party, Clark Quinn, Wendy’s childhood friend, sat beside her like he was born to orbit around her and asked me whether it was time for me to step aside. Wendy said nothing and just toyed with Clark’s fingers. Under the dazzling lights, I stared at her and asked calmly, “Are we going to break up?” She was stunned for

Every year, the week before the statewide college entrance exams, I had my parents empty fifty rooms at our hotel and hold them for my classmates, free of charge. Then the scores came out, and our class president, Natalie Reed, had bombed hers. She led the whole class online and claimed our hotel had run construction in the middle of the night on purpose, just to keep her from getting into college. The post went viral. The hotel was reported until it was shut down. My parents lost every cent they had saved, and their hair went gray overnight. Through all of it, not one of the fifty classmates who had stayed in our hotel spoke up for us. Then I opened my eyes, and it was the week before

Rafael The elevator chimed again as it glided to a halt, but I barely noticed it over the heat burning into the back of my skull. I shifted awkwardly beside Wendy, slipping my phone from my jacket pocket. My fingers moved fast across the screen. “Why does your guy—Freddie, or whatever—keep staring at me like I owe him money?” I hit send. Wendy’s phone buzzed right after, and she glanced down. I watched the corners of her mouth curl as her fingers danced in reply.

“Thanks.” He grinned. “You looked bored.” “Back to the subject,” Six called out, directing our attention back to him. “Nine and One are coming here?” Five popped a fry into his mouth, chewing as he nodded. “They’ll be here today. Jason talked to them after you got here and they headed out.” “Great.” Two killers turning their attention to me was never going to be a comfortable feeling, less so when Five’s lip twitched. He tossed another fry into his mouth and stepped back to the bed. “Which is it—you can’t stand Nine or you want to scratch One’s eyes out?”