So after getting bored late one night with a friend I have once again stumbled head first into FNAF. This side blog is my outlet so I don't drive my closest friends insane from the constant FNAF talk. They're on year two plus of this. They've held strong.
Mostly this will be dedicated to my random art, writing and AU funtimes. I'll try to tag heavier content but if you need something specific tagged just let me know and I'll add it to my mental list. A masterlist of my ongoing AUs can be found here. Fair warning that some of it might end up getting mighty heavy and though while some content may be NSFW at times, it will be tagged so you can avoid it if that aint your cup of tea. Feel free to send my asks about anything or just to say hi. Will mostly be Afton family related trash.
As for the person behind it all a basic summary is I'm an adult nonbinary mess that stress relieves with video games and nerding out about animatronics.
A heart to heart with Mr. Afton leaves you conflicted
General Fic Warnings and Tags: William Afton/Reader/Michael Afton (eventually), eventual smut, adultery, alcoholism, dubious consent, drug use, consensual non-consent, body writing, pet play, assault, gore, murder and kidnapping [Most currently not in the fic but a heads up feels right]
The walk with Mr. Afton felt more like a walk down death row rather than a simple trek to your supervisor's office. There was a tension that lingered in the air though if that was from your own stiff movements or something coming from the man in front of you, you couldn't tell. You just knew that it just hung around far longer than it had any right to. It made the space between your shoulder blades ache and you half expected a knife to find it's way into the vulnerable space. Each step marching you closer and closer to the executioners chair as that feeling became worse and worse. The point of a blade inching towards your back.
"Now, we want your honest opinion. While Henry and I are rather fond of the new products, we would rather have honest feedback now and save money than have our feelings carefully handled and our wallets emptied by the mistake that would follow."
He was talking like nothing happened. Like your entire world, and Michael's, wasn't moments from shattering. As if he himself wasn't the thing that almost caused it. Did he even understand what his words almost caused? Did he have any idea how much it would have destroyed Michael? Did he even care?
Your eyes stayed glued to his back like you would somehow find the answers there. Like some little ounce of tension would reveal some amount of remorse towards either Michael or you that he refused to show. Something that would stay buried for God knows how long and that may never see the light of day. You were starting to think that you were seeing behind the veil ever so slightly. That some genuine parts of your boss were peeking through the curtain to allow you a glimpse at something before unseen. Yet now you were coming to realize that it was just an illusion. You felt like you were in some high school play peeking back behind the stereotypical red drapes only to be met with the mid-curtain instead. Another layer taunting you with the fact that you would never be able to see the whole picture unless he wanted you to.
And you were starting to doubt that William Afton ever wanted to.
You should have been listening, you knew you should have, so it was truly your own fault when you slammed into William's back. The cold fabric of his shirt crinkling ever so slightly as you pushed off of the expanse. You wished you could have run face first into a door instead. Hard wood would be a welcoming material in comparison to him.
His head turned slightly, lips twitching in a half threat to either smile or scowl down at you. His eyes gave you no hints as to what was beneath the surface and the well hidden emotion he shoved back down as easily as it arose. Instead, he simply stepped to the side. Long arm pushing open a door you hadn't realized you had come to in invitation. He didn't need to say a thing for you to know to duck under his arm and make your way into the room.
Henry's office was normally so welcoming. The more homey decor of the place with personal touches littering every surface there was made it feel less like a business and more like a personal den at someone's private home. Bright drawings made by children through the years were plastered across his walls. All depicting Fredbear and Bonnie in Dandelion yellow crayon. A yellow that was reflected in the floral patterned rug that was a touch too tacky for your liking but it suited Henry in a way that you don't think you could ever truly articulate. Maybe it was the brightness of it all. That feeling of spring that the color gave with the quickest of looks. That's what Henry felt like to you, at times. Spring to William's fall. The thaw against the wilting cold.
"We need to talk."
You heard the door close behind you. Not lock but close none the less. Even knowing you weren't trapped in here with him didn't give you even the slightest assurance that anything was alright. If anything, it somehow made you feel worse. Whatever happened would be quick, you thought. A burst of anger that could end in tears. Maybe you would be lucky and it would be a quick and sudden dismissal. A coverup for your indiscretions. A way to silence and tie the loose end that threatened to unravel his world.
You just nodded as you took a step further into the room.
A seat. You needed to sit. You knew that no matter where this conversation went it likely was going anywhere good. This wasn't something sweet or some flirty back and forths, there'd be no lightness to this, only the harsh reality of what truly was.
You decided on the sofa, always so comfy for the small meetings you had with Henry, as it was the closest thing you had to something comforting. Henry didn't like using the chairs or his desk for talking to employees. Felt they were too… well, William like. He'd much prefer talking side by side with a soda or coffee in hand. Maybe the fourth or fifth coffee knowing him. Sometimes you think it was hot chocolate. At least, the smell made you think so. But then maybe that was just how Henry smelled. Warm and friendly like a hug from a family member you haven't seen in years.
It was so unlike the scent of heavy cologne that flooded your senses as the sofa dipped next to you. It reminded you too much of last night and the talents he had beyond simple animatronic repair.
"I assume Michael told you some things-"
"You're married."
The worlds slipped out before you could stop them. A simple statement that carried with it anything but simplicity. It carried a simple message that you both understood clear as day.
You lied to me.
He just sighed as if he had been through this talk time and time again.
"For now, but only as a formality. We're in the final stretch of the divorce. A less than ideal time to start a relationship to some, yes, but I didn't think to mention it. To me, the process is as good as done. I'm married to the woman in name and name alone. I see no reason why I can't start to move on when she's already done so herself."
The woman.
The way he spoke of her was like venom and disgust lingered in each syllable. Hearing him talk so coldly of a woman he was once so closely bound to made thoughts run through your head that you weren't entirely sure if you were ready to process yet. Not while in his presence at least. Not while silly thoughts could become heavy words that would shatter the calm and spiral into chaos and shouts. Not while you sat here with him as that ring he refused to remove glimmered in the light.
"Does Michael know?" It was the only thought you could put forward that wouldn't sound accusatory but even this sounded oddly bitter on your tongue.
"Of course. We've been open with the boy about the entire process but he seems to be in denial about it. Thinks that if he storms off enough and acts out his mother will return and we'll all be one big happy family."
"He's hurt."
"And I'm not? She was my wife and now we're nothing but strangers. I can understand the hurt, I know it better than he could ever comprehend, but you can't linger on the past or things that can no longer be."
That was fair, you knew it was, yet that didn't mean that his lie hurt any less. That you weren't still stewing over the fact he never told you. Even as what looked to be hurt lingered in his eyes and they, for once, were cast down towards his hands as he fidgeted almost awkwardly. Michael would have screamed at you, even beyond the obvious, for how much the anger in your heart began to fade with just one sad pathetic look. With a simple twirl of the silver band on his finger that seemed more mournful than he would ever genuinely let on.
"I should have told you, I know that. But I didn't want to scare you off. I'm already older," the word sounded rotten in his mouth. Like it hurt to even say it. "Hearing that I was in the process of a divorce would just amplify things. Make the differences more apparent while making me seem… pathetic."
Self hatred dripped from the last word and for the first time you thought that he said something truly from the heart. Something that every part of his being felt. It wasn't entirely that he thought others would see him as so but you knew that his own self image was leaking through into his very words. He thought he was pathetic, like there was something deeply wrong with him for this entire ordeal, and somehow it just made him feel that much more human. A chip of ice melting to reveal a struggling sprout within.
You could feel your shoulders loose some tension, not from comfort but from sympathy, as you listened to each and every word. The two of them were doing your mental health no favors with this near constant tug of war and each day more and more emotion seeped into it all leaving you more confused than anything. But in this moment you knew that neither of them was as one dimensional as you could have believed. William wasn't a cold man, manipulative and arrogant, but a man that was hurt and whose life was falling apart around him. His strength came from his coldness. From shutting things out that were best left unsaid lest they creep in and ruin it all.
"Don't look at me like that. I don't need sympathy."
You must have made some face, you knew you did, because the moment he looked at you his expression leaned more towards a scowl than anything. Features upset with the very notion of sympathy before his eyes darted away from you and he focused on the much more interesting box planted so far away on Henry's desk.
"You aren't you know."
"Sympathetic? Oh, that's far better than being looked at like I was a sad puppy-"
"No, pathetic. You aren't pathetic."
"I'm a grown man twice your age having an affair with a college drop out in a midlife crisis. There is nothing more pathetic than this moment."
"You're not that old. And… this isn't an affair."
At least, not by his admitted logic.
It was confusing as hell and you still weren't over the lie but you understood. At what point did it become okay to see other people? If you were informally separated, did you have to wait until you no longer shared a name? But what if you had long since refused to even share a home? What then? If his heart wasn't there, if hers wasn't, was there a point to clinging on to what was? They were questions that no one truly had the answer to. With differing situations there was no real way to know what was proper beyond societal norms and, well, you were already breaking those even if one were to ignore his marital status.
William huffed.
"I'm going gray and you want to argue that I'm, what? Only a few years older? I know I said I'm old but I'm not senile."
"The grays are nice."
It was a small mutter that you didn't mean to leave you lips as quickly as it did yet it flew out so easily. A simple compliment that made his gaze shift to yours like he almost didn't believe the words himself. You didn't see why he didn't. Anyone could see just how much they suited him. A pop of silver at his temple that made his eyes look just that touch more wintry. It was as oddly lovely as the lines of scars that poked out of his shirt collar and that lined his arms.
Something so uniquely him.
"Lying wont get you a raise."
You let out a small huff of a laugh in response. Eyes rolling slightly as a small near embarrassed smile crossed your lips. It was a stupid thing to let slip, you knew it, but what was worse was how a genuine look of disbelief sat in those beautiful eyes of his. How even though he was joking, you knew it was something more. A part of him unable to believe he was anything but horrid.
"I'm not. I like your gray hair and.. I like that you're older."
"My son is almost your age."
"And?"
"And I have a son. A son that is much closer to you in… everything. Even if he's an idiot," You were a split second from defending Michael when a small smile crept across his lips. "Or maybe because he's an idiot."
You weren't sure if it was more a joke at how terrible your tastes in men were or if he was insulting you just as much as he was insulting Michael but you gave him the smallest offended pout. If he was Michael, he would have gotten shoved off that sofa by now but you somehow doubted that shoving him would do much good. Or if you could even manage it. Despite how lanky the man was, he was as immovable as a rock.
"Are you calling me an idiot?"
"You have to be. Instead of yelling at me about lying to you, you're sitting here telling me you like how old I am and that you like that I'm going gray. What's next? Are you going to tell Henry you think he's more handsome with the glasses he needs now that he's growing old?"
Not handsome. Sweet. Henry's thick glasses he only sometimes wore, the forgetful man he was, made him look even more kind. You don't know how or why but if there even was a serious bone in his body it would have vanished the second he wore his glasses.
Your silence only made that stupid smile on Mr. Afton's lips grow ever so slightly. It wasn't that same self satisfied grin that would spread like it did on Michael's but it was equally as aggravating in it's own way. Father and son's habit of enjoying your suffering becoming made you decide, in the moment, that it was the worst family trait that they possessed. Genetically inherited freckles? Far too normal for a family liked theirs. Genetically inherited smug bastardism? That was far more Afton like.
"I am upset at you for lying but… it's.. complicated. More than I thought it would be. I didn't know you were getting divorced."
The moment you mentioned the divorce it was like any lightness that settled between you two from your moments of conversation faded away to nothing. His smile flickering and becoming just a ghost of what it was moments ago. It made you regret it in an instant, your eyes darting to your hands just to avoid seeing it all fade.
"Yes, well…. if you could keep it between the two of us, I would appreciate it. Henry knows, sure, but…"
But no one else did.
That was why you were a secret. It wasn't due to the fear of some affair, though it was that too considering the secret of the former, but because even the divorce was some grand secret he was far too afraid to let slip. But why? There was no shame in separating. Nothing to be ridiculed. Then why did he seem to think it was? Your brow must have furrowed, you fear you responded more than you believed or maybe that he was just far too good at reading you for you to vanish into your head without him fully knowing, because he spoke without a single question asked.
"I'm supposed to be family man. My entire establishment is built on the premise of a happy family. Come to Freddy's for wholesome family fun! But how can families trust someone to bring their kids a bit of happiness if he can't even do that for his own children? For his own wife? Michael is miserable. Anyone can see that plane as day. I've failed as a father in every aspect with that boy and now this?"
A laugh left his lips, one with not an ounce of joy to it. A dry thing that was as humorless as the grave with just as much feeling as one would expect. A hollowness to it that somehow felt more genuine than most of the laughs you had ever heard leave his lips.
"Sometimes I think Freddy's is cursed. If I never opened this place with Henry, maybe our lives would have been better. Maybe we would both be happy."
You finally brought yourself to look at him, eyes darting up for what was meant to be a simple look. Even with everything he had ever said to you, even with the lie that nearly tore everything the shreds, seeing the despair that brought his shoulders to a slump and the corners of his lips to tug into a thing of exhaustion and defeat made something pull at your heart in a way that made your own eyes water in sympathy and your face to twist into your own ripple of despair. For once, the cold of his eyes seemed at home. For once the mask seemed to slip, to be thrown to the side completely for a peak at the man beneath it all. And he was a broken thing. A man with scars mapping his entire being. Scars that ran far deeper than just the ones that littered his skin.
You knew what you initially had planned. You knew a part of you was going to suggest to never see him again. That you couldn't bring yourself to see Michael break apart. You were better as strangers. As an employer and one of his many employees. Yet in that moment you saw someone far lonelier than you had ever been. The sort of lonely that follows you even into the most crowded rooms and the happiest of parties. A lonely that sinks into your very bones and leaves you feeling cold and empty. The sort of lonely of someone that had everything they ever wanted only to have it taken away bit by bit until they were too tired to even cling to what they had left.
Was that why he hated Michael? Did Michael remind him of something he could no longer have? Did seeing Michael smile make him remember times where his house felt more like a home than the lifeless tomb it had become?
Your lips felt dry and any comfort you could have offered died long before it could leave your lips. Not that there was much to offer a man who had nothing yet was far too hurt to take whatever there was to give. So you did the only thing that you could think of. Or rather, you let your body act how it felt was right. Your hands coming forward to gently be placed on top of his. A gesture that was so hesitant that you felt more like you were calming a scared animal than a man.
There was a twitch to his hands. The smallest of jumps that was nearly imperceptible but something he was far too tired to hide. Cold fingers curling beneath yours in a way that made you fear rejection only to feel them shift and turn to grab at yours with a sort of uncertainty that was a reflection of your own. Something so soft that it almost felt unreal like barely anything more than a dream.
"You don't… have to stay, you know." His voice was light, almost a whisper. Something about it, even when this far gone into his own depths of despair, made your shoulders slump ever so slightly as your fingers lightly gripped his. Even when sad his words were like honey.
"Mr. Afton, I work here."
Your small offered smile was met with one of equal shyness. A dumb joke made to break the tension that seemed to work if not just to remind you both that you were here. That there was a world beyond the emotion that settled in. A world just side that door that you were town if you truly wanted to return to.
"You know what I meant, you brat."
"Brat? HR isn't going to like you insulting employees."
"HR isn't going to like a lot about me and you know it."
It felt good to hear a bit of joy in his voice, even if you knew now that it was likely barely anything more than a lie. But there was something to it, a lightness, that made your heart twist. Was it pride that made your smile threaten to grow at hearing it or was it something else entirely?
"I would like to see you again but… given the circumstances, I would understand if you would prefer that we end things where they are."
"I-"
His head cocked to the side. A look of something soft there before his brows furrowed and a single hand shot forward to cut off your sentence before you could even say more. Barely a syllable left your lips before you found his hand pressed against them. An abrupt end to whatever moment was to come. Either confirmation of what you knew deep down or a shattering of something that shouldn't have been to begin with all.
"Later."
You could only look at him with wide eyes, confused and almost hurt as he broke away. Long legs taking him to the box of goods near Henry's desk with a speed that bordered on supernatural. The sudden distance making you feel as if you had done something criminal by expressing a single simple sound. Maybe he wanted a yes or no, something simple and sweet, and was somehow offended by whatever answer was bound to tumble from your lips be it good or bad. You sat there in a confused daze. Lips parted and eyes wide as you simply stared. He bent at the waist, fingers plucking up a plush by a single fluffy rabbit ear as he turned to you with a smile that could have been apologetic or that maybe was just as fake as all the others.
"Will-"
His name died on your tongue as the door to Henry's office opened and your head snapped over so fast that you almost gave yourself whiplash. Henry's eyes meeting yours in an instant to be filled with equal parts confusion and surprise before darting to William. William, for his part gave a tired little grin as a sigh left his lips. He had all the interest of a man that had been standing there for far too long listing off product after product. If you weren't so sure that you were just speaking to him as he looked at you with such sad eyes you would have thought yourself that you had been here for far too long picking over potential products like you should have been.
"Ah, Henry. You're late. We've already started looking over the new stock. Care to join us?"
"Us? I wasn't aware we were going to have company. Also.. if you answered me when I asked when we were going to meet I wouldn't have been late."
While William's words were formal, Henry's seemed far more light. A business transaction on one end and a friend on the other. You wondered just how often that dynamic seeped into everything they did. Or at least, you would have put effort into that thought and so many others if you weren't still spinning from the sudden change in tone. All you could do was sit there blinking at the two of them like a startled deer five seconds from fleeing. To Henry, you were likely just another employee too scared to be with Mr. Afton, a man known for firing employees without a drop of warning. To William, you looked like you were out of your depth yet that didn't stop a hint of a smile from forming behind the guise of professionalism.
"Yes, us. You said you wanted a second opinion. I got a second opinion."
"Well, I had meant Michael or maybe a kid-"
"Michael has no taste and a child would never listen."
Henry sighed. It was a tired little sound, defeated and resigned, like he was more than used to having petty little arguments with William that he knew he could never win. Besides, you got the feeling that it was less a true argument that bothered him and more something of a technicality. But still, when his eyes flicked over to you you were met with that familiar Emily smile. Something that lit up his whole being. The kind of smile a parent would give to their kids. Something of joy mixed with genuine care and interest. A day brightening thing.
You couldn't help but wonder if William's smile was ever like that.
"We appreciate your help. I just hope Will hasn't bored you to death with all of this."
"I'm showing products, Henry, not giving a lecture."
"With you, those can be the same."
It was William's turn to sigh. A petulant little thing that almost made a smile creep up on your lips. Though he didn't, he sounded mere seconds away from pouting at his business partner and the mental image alone was enough to cause a chuckle to bubble up. A chuckle only silenced by Henry's smile widening and William's eyes narrowing in your direction.
"Yes, well, we're done here anyway."
The dismissal was quick and lacked any sort of formality. It was more like he was waving a dog away from a table than having an employee go back to work. You would have been upset about it if it wasn't for the fact the cold in his eyes seemed to thaw ever so slightly. A touch of joy, either from Henry or yourself, causing a bit of something other than numbness to enter those eyes.
"She agrees with my choices."
You did no such thing but whatever made him happy. Whatever made him smile. However, whatever happened to make him smile seemed to make Henry frown.
"You probably intimidated the poor girl."
"Yes, Henry. I strong armed her into siding with me."
"Wouldn't put it past you."
"Threatened to fire her if she picked anything that wasn't on my personal list."
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"When was the first time?"
You had a feeling that you were forgotten. The bickering between the two bordering on that of a married couple as they paid you no mind at all. One part friendly banter, one part genuine hurt and offense masked by jokes and humor. It was the type of back and forth from two friends who had spent far too much time with each other to really be anything but close. More than just business partners despite what appearances would say. You felt strangely voyeuristic just sitting there as they 'fought'. As Henry joked and prodded and William shot back sarcastic reply upon sarcastic reply.
It was about a the three minute mark that you stood from your spot. A motion that failed to grab their attention as their discussion had moved past a box of goodies and instead settled squarely on the birthday party of the day. You felt like it was a good moment to make your exit even as they bickered about the colors of streamers which, apparently, they had to determine on their own for once. A rare choice left up the owners instead of the usual perfectly customized bundle of requested goods that usually came with this sort of thing.
"Um… I'm going to get going now? We open in 5 minutes…"
Not that you cared one bit about opening but that seemed to be all you needed to say to break the two up. Both of their heads darted up to look at the clock that hung above Henry's door like some terrible omen. Mixed reactions settling on their faces. Annoyance from William and surprise from Henry. You had a feeling that these two lost track of time more often then not when together. Not a terrible problem to have when with a friend.
"Yes, go. We'll talk later. I may need help with decorations."
William raised a hand, this time genuinely shooing you away like you were just a child. Henry rolled his eyes at the gesture.
"Thank you for your help. We appreciate it. Don't we, Will."
"..Yes. Thank you."
"See? Not that hard at all."
And like that you were forgotten again. This time light scolding filled the room as you made your way to the door. William's manners being picked apart relentlessly by his friend but you could tell he didn't truly mean it. William was a grand showman and a gentleman for the most part. A little rough in some areas to be sure but he was far better an employer than most people had.
As you exited the office you felt more exhausted than a simple talk should have made you. It felt like a rollercoaster in more ways than one and left you with a slight flutter in your chest and an overall urge to vomit. Or cry even. In either confusion, frustration or genuine residual sadness, you didn't know. It was just all too much far too soon and yet it was still no where near done. You knew that. Decisions and words left unsaid still drifting about your mind through far less focused than before.
For once you thought that maybe, just maybe, you would be grateful for a sea of screaming children. At least that could take your mind off of the puzzle that was William Afton.
A lost piece left behind at the Afton's causes more than a touch of trouble.
General Fic Warnings and Tags: William Afton/Reader/Michael Afton (eventually), eventual smut, adultery, alcoholism, dubious consent, drug use, consensual non-consent, body writing, pet play, assault, gore, murder and kidnapping [Most currently not in the fic but a heads up feels right]
A war raged inside that sparked no small degree of disgust with yourself to flood your very being. Emotions raging against each other as you fought to keep your reaction in check. You should be honest, a part of you knew that, but you were a selfish creature above all else. You knew that the moment that you confessed your sins, Michael would vanish from your life completely and you would be left with nothing but a void where someone you could call a friend used to be. You would be alone once again and all for what? A partial fuck with his father? The only mercy was that it never went as far as you both truly wanted, if you could even admit to yourself now that you wanted it. Michael's arrival now a mercy in your mind instead of the curse it had once been. Because then, at least, you could argue with yourself and pretend that it wasn't as bad as Michael feared.
Yet when you closed your eyes you could still feel William's hand on your throat and the slickness between your thighs. The excitement and pleasure of the memory now tainted by regret yet it was only a taint. A feeling coexisting with something else that only made your stomach churn and self hatred to build even further. Even now a part of you enjoyed what had happened. A part of you couldn't deny that you would want more. If only the cost wasn't so steep.
"How.. how do you know?"
The words sounded rough on your ears though if Michael noticed, he said nothing. He only let a hand slip into a jacket pocket before withdrawing. He gripped something tight in his hand before uncurling fingers to reveal a single earring. One that was far too familiar.
"She dropped this."
You stared at the piece of jewelry with something that could have been perceived as offense. Something that could have been sympathetic in nature as you watched the familiar metal shine in the arcade light. Your eyes darted to Michael's yet instead of anger that you expected, instead of him instantly flying into yells and screams, you found not an ounce of recognition in those pretty eyes. Anger, hurt, disgust? Yes. But not directed towards you. When his eyes met yours, even briefly, they seemed to soften like a part of him was afraid of chasing away something so precious to him with misplaced rage.
He looked at you like you meant something and somehow you felt like that was far worse than any amount of yelling.
"Two plates in the kitchen too. He cooked for her. Or, knowing that bastard, he made her cook for him. Fucking brings her to our house to cheat and makes her cook."
He sounded more upset at that than anything else and it almost felt outrageous in it's own way. Fixating on something so small in comparison to it as a whole but you understood. He needed to focus on something to make the pain go away, at least in part. To make the betrayal of his father lessen just an inch to focus on the man's many other apparent flaws. You wished you had seen them before this. That you had listened to Michael's worries and heard them as the warnings they were instead of simply blowing them off as an ancient feud between father and son.
"What if it was your mom?"
If she was around, that was a logical possibility right? Meeting about something or maybe just having dinner like a normal couple? It was the only thing you could think of as a cover. Grasping at straws that you knew would likely just hurt him even more.
His head snapped over to you as a look you couldn't fully read crossed his features. You could have hurt him or maybe you gave him a small spark of hope. Whatever it was, it was gone. Replaced not by his usual attempts at pretend that would settle in whenever he didn't want to acknowledge emotion. No, this was more a mask of attempted indifference that was building up as trust was decaying and you knew that your words were anything but right. But then , neither were your actions.
"She wouldn't. Not without seeing me."
But Michael wasn't as good as building up that mask as his father was. Cracks easily formed and the despair that your words filled him with was hard to hide. You think a fucked up part of him wished it was his father's infidelity over his mother avoiding him. At least if it was the first, his let him view his mother with love and not worry that he was a mistake to get another person in his life.
"Besides, mom doesn't wear earrings… I think."
Though as his brow wrinkled you could tell he wasn't truly sure. A part of you felt bad for making the situation worse. For not only being the catalyst for it in general but for being the reason he looked so distressed even now. For making him doubt, even for a moment, someone you were sure loved him more than anything in the world. At least, you hoped she did.
"And there's no one else the earring could have come from? A friend, a neighbor?"
For the first time in a long time, Michael glared at you. Truly glared. You hated yourself for even suggesting it.
"No. I know it's from her. I know what this is. Why are you trying to defend him?"
"I'm not defending him-"
"We'll you're certainly not being supportive. It's like you refuse to believe he's that terrible. He is. You know him as a boss and that's it. You have no idea what he's like."
"Michael, that's not-"
"Then what? Why do you just question and question and question?"
Because of guilt. Because you were trying to distract.
"Because I'm worried about you. I believe you. Trust me, I do. I just want to make sure it isn't something else first so we can figure this out together. Maybe find who she is even."
You.
It was you.
And you felt a stab in your gut just knowing how much you were actively playing with him by even toying with the notion of there being another woman. A person that wasn't you. That little voice in the back of your mind that would pop up with pointedly negative comments about things you did here and there was now screaming at the top of it's lungs. Screaming that you deserved his hatred and more. That you were a terrible person. You just hoped that it was wrong though, to be honest, you were starting to loose the will do to that even. Why deny something that you were becoming all too aware of.
But Michael took a breath, his eyes closing as his head lulled back, and that guilt just stirred more with the realization that he was listening to you. That something in him would until the moment he found out. Until the moment that you became a disgusting thing to throw to the side. Just a homewrecker and nothing more.
He nodded after a moment, eyes opening and finding yours so quickly that you were sure he was locked onto your presence somehow. The softness in his eyes made you nearly crumble apart. Knees threatening to buckle as he looked so grateful. So stressed yet with just a spark of hope. Your words, even when so fake, brought him some comfort. A lifeline in the storm brewing in his head that even he didn't have time to properly process. And when he smiled, so sweet though small, it made you feel like crying. It made something burst in your chest and your eyes begin to water without a single word said.
Because you knew that despite everything, he trusted you.
"You're right, I guess. If I go up to father already assuming the worst he'll just laugh in my face and refuse to answer anything. Not that he would ever answer me but… But I have to think things through. To approach this the right way. Otherwise I'll be kicked out of the house again for god knows how long with a black eye or worse-"
"What?"
He was talking more to himself than to you, you knew that by the way his eyes seemed to look at you yet somehow past you all at once, yet that seemed to snap him back to reality. Eyes refocusing as the seriousness that had begun to creep in melted away to reveal a slight panic beneath. The panic of having said too much. He faltered for a moment, lips opening and closing with words unsaid and excuses a plenty only to have his teeth shut with a worrying clatter.
"What? Nothing, Just talking."
"Michael-"
"I should ask Henry. He has pierced ears. I can't see him wearing something like this but… maybe it was Charlie's?"
More information coming at you faster than you could really process all to try and cover things that were never meant to be said. Things that were simply left implied before now that have come bursting to the surface. He kept going but you tuned it out. Not that you didn't care about the verbal flashback he was having with you. That you weren't partly impressed by earrings and styles he rattled off that he remembered seeing this Charlie wear but you knew every little word was little more than a distraction. For you or him, you couldn't tell.
"Michael-"
"But then… were those even piercings? She hated needles. Clip on's? No, that would be dumb-"
"Michael!"
You got on your tip toes faster than you could realize as your hands shot out to cradle his face between them. A movement meant to center him and focus his roaming mind on something other than the chaos it was spiraling in to. A gesture that was soft and sweet and far more close to him than you deserved to be. For what it was worth, it worked. His words died the second he felt your hands against him. Heat began to blossom between your fingers before you pulled them away like it was enough to do damage. But the only thing doing damage here was you.
You brought them back to your side so quickly you nearly smacked against the top of the counter but even if you had, you would have deserved it. Maybe it would even take your mind off how he was looking at you. How big and sweet his eyes were and how red was beginning to bloom on his cheeks with each small movement his mouth made. You think, for once, it was you that managed to fry someone's brain. But then he was distracted. It was that and nothing more. Surprise, you reasoned. It was all it could ever be.
"What did you mean? When you said you might-"
His expression didn't even have time to fall with the severity of the conversation to come before a new voice joined the fray. One that made your heart clench and the feeling of disgust to build up once more. A feeling only amplified as you watched a flicker of fear flash across Michael's face before the practiced rebellion and annoyance of a teen that has gone through far worse settled back on his features.
"Michael!"
William's steps were quick towards the counter. One might even deem them almost jog like if you could see a man like him putting forth that sort of effort. Maybe he would for this. His eyes darted between the two of you, a curious brow raising as he took in the sight though he clearly decided against commenting on it. Instead, he settled for a small shake of the head and a smile that seemed like one of the most fake things you had seen in a long while. You couldn't tell if it was due to your shattered perception of him or if that truly was how he smiled at you the whole time. You wouldn't doubt if it was.
"Oh good, you're here too. I needed to talk to you both about some things to do today. There's been a last minute party booking. Normally, as you know, we don't accept these sorts but it's for some lawyer's son-"
"Did you have someone over last night?"
"Michael.." You whispered his name with far more sorrow than you intended. Like you knew it might be the last time that you would sit here so comfortably with him. The last time he would look at you with anything but hatred.
"What? Why would you ask that?"
William's eyes pointedly darted over to you though you didn't know if the look was more meant for you or Michael. A way to scold him for bringing up personal matters before strangers or maybe a way to gauge just what you had been talking about with his son. Surely, you wouldn't go right up to him and admit to everything from the night before. You were too shy a thing for that. Unless you somehow grew a consciousness. Or did he believe that you would never find out? That you were just a happy ignorant thing to be played. You certainly were before.
"I thought I heard someone last night is all." Though his words sounded so casual, the tone betrayed the true nature each syllable as an unsaid accusation made it to the surface.
"I did. A business associate. Which we can discuss later-"
"A woman?"
"A man."
"You cooked." The word sounded oddly damning. Like of all the things in the world he hardly expected that of his father. Cheating? Somehow on the table but cooking? Not at all.
"I did, yes. I wanted to impress as a more personal business meeting I thought it would be rude to order take out-"
"You can't cook."
William huffed. A frustrated sound that escaped him as his eyes narrowed for a moment. A flash of something crossed his features. Rage if you could guess but that couldn't be it, could it? It was a simple silly comment that you yourself had made before. But then why on Michael's lips was it suddenly an offense? Maybe because to you it was teasing but from Michael it was like a statement of fact. Something that was more a shortcoming than a quirk.
"But I can read. Cookbooks exist, Michael. Maybe if you spent a little time with books you would find that some are useful and almost all you can learn from. Now, we can discuss my cooking and private business later but right now-"
"She left her earring."
Another huff from William though this one was more blatantly annoyed than before. You had the distinct feeling that the two were only remaining somewhat civil due to your presence. Maybe that's why Michael brought it up to begin with. He wasn't looking forward to whatever this would evolve in to if they were left alone. William shook his head slightly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. His brows were furrowed so deep that for the first time you truly noticed all the little imperfections on his face that time had left behind.
"Who left her earring? Use your words Michael. I can't read your mind-"
"Your mistress. Is that a good enough word for you, father? Or would you like me to define that?"
"Michael!"
Your hand shot out to tug weakly on his arm. You didn't know why you were trying to stop him from saying more. Maybe it was in part due to his earlier slip but you knew that deep down it was far more selfish than that. You didn't want what warmth he had towards you to fade away with a blunt answer from his father. But he simply cast a look towards you, something that was oddly calm for the whole ordeal, before one of his hands came to rest over yours. Silent reassurance that it would be okay. That he somehow knew what he was doing or didn't care about the consequences of his words. You wished he did.
William's eyes had narrowed. Not just from the sudden shared touch though he did watch that with an intensity that made you shiver but from Michael's words that hung in the air. The ice that usually was so beautiful in them now terrifying as he remained far too silent for comfort. You half expected him to yell or scold or even just say anything at all but he stood there for far too long with narrowed eyes and a head cocked to the side as thoughts ran through his mind. You wished you knew what he was thinking. But then maybe it was better if you didn't. There was something about the way that he looked at Michael that made you never want to peak into his head. That made you want to run. That made you want to take Michael with you.
"Earring? What earring?"
His words were tight but he seemed to be in control of them. The mask he always wore so easily fit in place that you partly even doubted it was there. His confusion had to be legitimate. Maybe Michael was wrong about it all. Maybe he had picked up an earring of a friend who just so happened to be the same as yours. That was possible wasn't it? Sure, it wouldn't erase your sins but maybe it would in his eyes. Maybe whatever guilt you placed on yourself would vanish if he didn't know.
But that never came as Michael shoved his hand towards his father. For a moment you thought it was going to connect and you were about to have front row seats to a fight you never asked to witness. Yet before he could make contact his fingers unfurled and he shoved the hand against his father. The earring nearly fell to the floor as Michael pulled away but his father was always quicker than he looked. Long fingers curling around metal as his eyes darted down to look at it. Though you didn't miss the flash of rage from the touch mere moments before.
"Oh," He sounded almost relieved, tension leaving his shoulders the slightest as they fell and he pointedly looked at you.
No. Don't.
"You found her earring. Good, I was meaning to return it."
Michael's grip on you shifted. First it was subtle, a sudden limpness to the touch before it dropped away completely. You felt your heart sinking even without seeing the look on his face. That change alone let you know everything you needed to. Every negative thought he had suddenly directed towards you in a matter of seconds. There was no gradual fade or even contemplation that it could be anything but true. It was a quick and deep betrayal that made the urge to vomit rise in the very back of your throat.
It was only amplified as Micheal's head turned towards you. Not fully. No, he couldn't bring himself to look you in the eye. But it was enough to see the guilt. Enough to know it was more than just a simple implication but was instead something closer to truth. Maybe it was the most honest thing that was ever said about you and even that wasn't direct.
"Yours?"
How could one word sound so broken?
"She dropped it yesterday. Found it in the staff room."
Your mouth opened and closed for a moment. Words to deny it fighting against words to frantically agree. Anything to make that look on Michael's face go away for even just a few minutes. Even a lie would be more comforting than the truth. You knew it would hurt him far more in the long haul. That one day he would know and that everything would crumble past the point of repair but you needed this. You needed to see him smile. You needed to see something in his eyes that wasn't such deep sadness.
"Mine?… I … is it?"
You sounded frazzled, confused even. Mr. Afton took that as his cue to step forward. The jewelry in question being held out in his hand towards you like he expected you to take it. You had to though your touch was hesitant. Even now you were afraid that any touch that lasted longer than it should would be taken as something far less than innocent. As a confession of guilt that was as obvious as how you felt in this very moment. The metal seemed to almost burn when you touched it. Not a scalding heat but a chill that made you want to toss it in the trash to never see it again. You knew it was just an illusion, something born of your own emotions shooting off like fireworks yet you couldn't help but feel the need to give in. If not in private.
Your fingers carefully maneuvered the thing as if it were to explode at any moment. How could something so small have the power to ruin lives? Though you knew that it wasn't that simple piece that did but rather your own actions that would in the end.
"I may be old but I do have eyes. You were wearing one matching that yesterday, I believe. Are you maybe missing one? If not, then I can talk to other staff and see if anyone dropped it while taking a break."
"Dropped it? Here?"
You couldn't decide if Michael sounded more outraged at the lie that was slowly falling in to place or hurt. Whatever it was, you didn't know if he entirely believed whatever his father was selling.
"No, at our house. Of course here. Despite how little you think of me, Michael, I am still your father. I still do what's right for our family. The fact that you could even begin to think that I would.."
William trailed off and if you hadn't been with him personally the night before even you would have believed his words. They seemed so genuine. So aggressively sincere and filled with such hurt and disgust that it threatened to remake reality into what he wanted to see. But then maybe it was. Had you imagined it all? Was it all some fucked up day dream you had after heading home? Were you more exhausted than you thought you were? More lonely? Had daydreams began to leak into your reality to bend what was real and what wasn't?
"I was planning on returning it today but when I couldn't find it downstairs I assumed I dropped it somewhere. I was going to talk to her this morning and offer to pay for a new set considering it wouldn't be permanently lost if I hadn't picked it up but it seems you've inadvertently found the owner."
It was Michael's brow that furrowed now. Eyes darting between you, the earring and his father in rapid succession. Once then twice then a third time. Eyes still so narrow and filled with confusion but more than that they began to soften bit by bit to be replaced with something you were now all too familiar with. A feeling you were sure would linger for days if not years to come. Guilt. Michael's shoulders sunk a little and he shook his head as if he couldn't believe the thoughts that were swimming around in there. Maybe a part of him knew that his father was lying. Maybe he could see through the easily crafted web that his father had so easily strung.
"So it's hers?"
You should deny it. You knew you should. You had to come clean. To let him know now before things went too far. Before you dug yourself a hole far too deep to crawl out of but you nodded before you could even stop yourself.
"I… am missing an earring. Where… Where did you find it?"
He already said, you knew that, and you knew that you sounded like a fool but lying didn't come as easily to you as it did to William. Certainly not when it was right to Michael's face.
"Staff room. It was near the vending machine. Did you maybe take a break back there at some point?"
You had, you think. Though you hardly could think much of yesterday before a specific point. Before that earring very much landed itself on the carpet of their home.
"I think I did?"
"You think you did?"
Now it was Mr. Afton's turn to look at you with annoyance though it was far less severe than the looks he threw Michael. These were more like an annoyance you had with a pet that wasn't acting the way it should. You knew the annoyance was likely with how terrible you were at lying. He had built up the perfect cover and here you were ruining it at every turn.
"I mean, I don't really make a log of where I go here?"
"Maybe that's how you ended up losing something so easily."
This time Michael's expression shifted not because of what you knew you had done but because of the annoyance in his father's tone. Suspicion gone and replaced by something protective that caused something deep in you to ache. You hated it. You somewhat wished he would go back to glaring at you. At least you knew that was deserved. This just felt like a lie.
"Well, it's back in your hands now and that little mystery is solved-"
"Then who did you cook for?"
"A potential business partner, like I said. The deal didn't go through in the end though. We're too 'high risk'. Something he could have said before the entire ordeal. The night was a waste of my time." He sighed, shaking his head like he was recounting something truly obnoxious. How someone managed to be that bothered by their own lie you had no clue.
"You can ask Henry if you still don't believe me. He's well aware I was in talks with a potential business partner of sorts and though the final meet up was supposed to happen later this week I thought something more inviting and personal would change their mind. They already seemed reluctant. A shame, really. But no real loss in the end."
Michael deflated. It wasn't something so obvious that it was pathetic but it was enough to make a part of you shatter as you watched his confidence plummet and his chest fall. You wondered if he was at least a touch satisfied at how it all ended. If he was happy to know that his already shattered family wasn't about to crumble to pieces before his eyes. Now all that destruction was just left for behind his back.
"Now, if we're done attempting to play at detective, we do have a party to prepare for?" And there he was. Your cold hearted employer that people feared so much. So serious. So down to business. Though you could have sworn you saw his lips twitch up in the threat of a smile at seeing Michael so defeated.
"Michael, I need you to make sure the cameras are functional. There's been problems with the one in the staff hallway. Either try to fix it or confirm the report that it's down so we can call in a proper technician. As for you.."
He trailed off as his eyes fixed themselves on yours. You felt like shrinking away. Where a touch of attention would once cause such confusing emotions to swirl inside of you, now they were replaced but nothing but self loathing and repulsion.
"I apologize for my son's antics. Our business is our own and I trust that you won't let word of his accusations spread?"
You don't know why but it almost felt like a threat. Maybe it was the slightest narrowing of his eyes or the tilt of his head. The way his hands twitched ever so slightly at his side. Maybe it was the fact his smile didn't really match the emotion he was trying to portray. But something felt off and you suddenly felt like a poor little rabbit staring down the barrel of a gun. But with a damn blink it was gone and your heart lurched from the sudden whiplash of it all. Was it all illusions or perceptions influenced by Michael's own words and new found revelations or was that something else entirely? Less a threat and more of a playful word of warning? You couldn't tell.
"Um.. I won't, sir."
It was only at the utterance of 'sir' that his smile became something genuine. Something more smug and pleased than anything yet you couldn't deny the charm of it. Michael could though as he made the smallest scoff and looked away. You wish you could do the same.
"Good. Now if you'll come with me we have a test shipment of goods that has arrived. I had it delivered to Henry's office and we would both like the feedback of someone working the counter to see what would work best and be a genuine draw to the kids. Data and statistics are all well and good and you've done a great job keeping inventory but I would like you to see them in person to help us make some minor decisions. If possible, we may even put the test batch out today as a sort of trail. A good draw for a high paying client, I think."
"R-Right."
Your head felt like it was spinning from how quickly things had changed. That emotional turmoil still there and bubbling under the surface but now it was aggressively trying to be calmed by lies and deceit. Emotions pushed to the side for apparent professionalism and a sudden need to actually do your job. There wasn't even a moment to process it, it just was. You hated it yet a part of you felt grateful for it all. Because at least this way Michael wouldn't look at you like he did for that little moment. He wouldn't look at you like you ruined everything in his life.
William moved, not waiting for you to join him, as he turned and left the arcade. His long legs taking him a far shorter time than yours ever did and it caused you to jolt forward. You weren't sure if he meant for you to stay by his side and head to Henry's instantly but you weren't going to chance it after all of that. You made a move to go past Michael fully intending to say something to him and promise to see him later when you felt his hand grab your arm. It was rougher than he'd been with you before. Desperate, even. But when your eyes met his there was something vulnerable there that made you want to weep.
"Lunch?"
The smallest little hopeful smile was on his lips. One that solidified your answer before you could even process it. You nodded, a smile matching his forming as a single hand came up to rest against his. As you let your thumb brush against his knuckles. His hand was so much warmer than his father's. It felt almost right in yours.
"Yeah, of course."
His smile widened, a thing that looked as close to his normal one as it could. Head tilting to his side and curls spilling over his features in a way that made butterflies take flight more and more each time it was done.
A little time to yourself means finally being able to pick up your car and deal with a few things lingering on your mind.
General Fic Warnings and Tags: William Afton/Reader/Michael Afton (eventually), eventual smut, adultery, alcoholism, dubious consent, drug use, consensual non-consent, body writing, pet play, assault, gore, murder and kidnapping [Most currently not in the fic but a heads up feels right]
Early morning was never really your friend. Not since working at least.
The blare of the horrific alarm/radio hybrid that sat perched on your bedside table gave you a near heart attack day after day. Somehow, despite the timely nature of it and the knowledge that you yourself had set it, it was as startling a surprise as it had been that first fateful morning. Your hand would slam against the thing hoping to silence it only to be reminded that a version of you was responsible enough to buy a clock that required a precise button bush instead of an overly aggressive slam. You hated that version of you.
Responsibility didn't suit early morning.
You wanted to lay there and let the world fade away around you as sleep settled in once more yet now you were just met with the obnoxious voice of the local radio show host greeting early morning commuters. Music you could stand but not that. Not the endless chatter about something you could care less about from a man who was twice your age acting far more youthful than he had any right to be. You don't think people like him knew just how weird it was to do that or how incredibly fake it all felt but somehow you doubted they cared. There were plenty of people that thought he was charming enough despite it all. How else would he have kept a show this long?
At least, you assumed it was something long running. You could see Michael waking up to this hell every day before school. Hair as scattered as your early morning thoughts as he tried dragged himself out of bed. Maybe he was one of the people that thought he was charming.
Somehow though you doubted it.
The man was in the middle of telling some story he thought was a riot related to the last song he played, you assume that was at least half an hour ago, when you finally managed to get up. You needed the music to wake up. At least it would be a nice addition to the background fuzz that was your mind. You just had to power through a few more stories and a handful of words from their sponsors to get there. Maybe that was why the show was popular. Spite made people power through it and stumble to their jobs on time in hopes that maybe if they weren't paying attention for long enough and just had it in the background like a boiling pot of water then the music would arrive in no time. But just like pasta water, there was no hurrying along a snail on a leisurely stroll.
This morning was far more thoughtless than any other. Where you would have assumed the night before your mind would rush with thoughts of William and whatever confusing thing was developing between you, the fog of exhaustion clung to your mind and obscured any rational thought beyond perhaps an irrational hatred of that which got you to your feet to begin with. You were deep in sleep, you think. Had to have been. There was no other reason for the grog. You went to bed early in hopes that you'd be able to pick up your car just as early the next day so you knew exhaustion wasn't the cause though you had no clue when you actually manage to finally drift off. A certain someone haunted your thoughts far later than you hoped he would.
In retrospect you were wondering if maybe you should have gotten Michael involved in this whole being an adult scheme. You weren't really keen on roaming the streets of Hurricane like a zombie before the sun had really risen enough for the decent to rise with it but you didn't know how the night before would have gone. Plus, you assumed he'd be out partying.
Shame he came home early.
That thought was the only thing that parted the haze and with it brought flashes of hands in places they really shouldn't be and blue eyes watching you like you were his own personal toy to play with.
Fuck.
You regretted even thinking of Michael as heat began to pool on your cheeks and in your gut once again. You tried to put it out with thoughts of literally anything else and even managed to land on thinking of how just when the last time it was that Mr. Afton or Henry cleaned up Bonnie, the blue one, but even that thought was cut short. Thoughts of hands spiraling out of control as the touch of William became tangled with the unseen hands from behind the scenes. Hands you hadn't thought of since that day by choice yet that flooded your mind now. Maybe it was some weird form of guilt that made you think of the last thing you wanted to be reminded of. Maybe it was Michael's talks of the monster lurking just beneath the surface of his father's calm exterior that made your thoughts fill in gaps that had no right to be filled. Touches that made your heart race and your breath come in heated pants merging together with ones that made your stomach churn and your flesh crawl.
You had to stop moving just to refocus. Your morning tasks put on hold as you clutched to the counter of the kitchen. The light planned snack before heading out now forgotten as dread had crept up to replace what hunger you could have felt. You tried to ignore the phantom touch that lingered on your skin from a man you still had yet to name, and you doubted you ever would, but there was the reality of the situation at hand that joined that terrible dread. Thoughts attempting to distract you from something you had tucked away to hopefully forget bringing up a worry that settled much closer to your heart.
You enjoyed spending time with Michael, truly, but you doubted that would continue if he found out that you had spent time with his father. Hell, you did almost exactly what he accused you of when you first met. You even wondered if he was right about Jessica. Mr. Afton made it seem like you were the only one he had tried this with and seemed less than pleased at the implication that there were others, disgusted more like it, but what if that was just all an act to get your legs to spread just for him.
It was a less than welcoming thought that made you wish you could undo it all. Though you knew just as much as Mr. Afton did that you doubted you would have changed anything if given the chance. Maybe, at most, you would have suggested dinner here instead. Not that your apartment was anything to write home about but it didn't have intrusions from an uninvited third party. God, your mind raced. You couldn't decide on what to feel. Excited and pleased with yourself for what happened or guilty and regretful at something that never should have been.
You moved to grab your house keys hoping that the brisk walk to the repair shop would be enough to snap you out of it. Or, at least, give you something to think about that didn't involve men too attractive for their own good. Really, it was unfair that the root of all your problems was one specific family. If it was two random assholes off the street you highly doubted that the dilemma that raced in your head would be nearly as bad.
A huff left your lips as fingers were met with nothing but air as you swiped mindlessly at the spot you usually kept your keys. Fuck. You forgot. You were less than lucid last night. Too busy thinking about blue eyes that haunted you longer than they should. You dropped them off somewhere in your house, you think. The only confirmation of that being the unlocked door that you were happy you at least managed to lock before you let yourself slip into Wonderland over a set of talented fingers.
Annoyed steps far heavier than they usually were that bordered on near tantrum like thundered through your apartment as you stopped in place after place. Not on the sofa, not between pillows. Not on the dresser. No where near the bathroom, or sink. Your brows furrowed and you swore to any god that would listen that if you missed picking up your car because post orgasmic past self couldn't clear her head long enough to place keys in a logical spot you were going to be so upset. Past you had one job and that was not to fuck things up for current you yet she seemed hell bent on doing anything but.
You were going to have words with yourself later. Harsh ones.
You mentally berated your lack of forethought in having something like a jewelry dish to put keys in as you tore your room to pieces. Not that there was much to throw about. Your dress from the night before laid there as a reminder of your bad choices before you flung it across the room as if it were hiding all the secrets to life and more beneath it. Unfortunately, it wasn't. In fact, it wasn't hiding much at all which made your head cock to the side. You think you took your clothes off in the same spot together. Your bra was a little bit to the right but still somewhat close. But where the fuck was the rest of your underwear.
You glared at the carpet like it would somehow have the answer or guilty spit out the fabric in question yet, to everyone's shock, no such movement occurred. All you were met with was the silence of your apartment and the unkept nature of the carpet below you. Under the bed. It had to be. But how the hell did you take them off last night that you tossed them under the bed?
Past you needed to stop thinking about the hands of her boss and needed to think more about how difficult it would be to find tossed around clothing, you thought moments after you tossed your dress around. The irony wasn't lost on you, you just chose to ignore it. Just like you chose to ignore the curiosity and desire to fixate on just where it went the moment you saw a glimmer of silver on your nightstand. Why you hadn't checked there first, you'd never know but then it wasn't really your habit to put something that could easily stab you within hitting range of your alarm clock. It was a dangerous combination that made you really cement in the thought that past you was clearly a separate entity and one that hated your guts.
You rushed forward, grabbing the keys before storming off into the early morning light.
As stupid as everything was, it worked. Your mind was blissfully free of the woes you thought would linger till noon and beyond and that would drive you to awkwardly avoiding both your boss and.. friend? Was Michael a friend? You thought so but you didn't want to put a label on something that you were clearly betraying already. Michael made it clear that there was one and only one stipulation to being even somewhat close to him and it was a very simple one at that. Don't get close to his dad. No. Worse. Don't fuck his dad. You were pretty sure last night counted towards that.
But that didn't matter right now.
What mattered was your car.
What mattered was the bill.
What mattered was the insane amount of overtime you were going to have to do to afford this.
Well, that you would have had to do. The money that Mr. Afton gave you not that long ago felt like it was burning a hole in your wallet for days and now that it was finally out of there you were all too well aware of just how little money you made. Before paying you could at least thrive off of playing pretend and maybe thinking that you could splurge here and there. Now you were just back to the sad reality of being a single woman living off of the salary that came with being a prize counter attendant.
Yay. Net zero cash yet again. But hey, you were going to get paid this week. You just had to last till then and this time you actually had plenty in the fridge thanks to your little shopping trip a from a few days ago. It should be an easy enough thing to do and you were certain that if for some reason something went wrong and you found yourself without food, you could always ask the guys in the kitchen for some pizza they were going to toss.
One of the benefits of working there really. Free pizza when the mood hit you and a bottomless supply of soda from the fountain if you dared to venture over there. The walk over there was probably why not a lot of staff actually took that up and preferred to head to the staff room for some over priced vending machine drink that had a 50% chance of exploding in your face. It meant that you wouldn't have to face a hoard of children and throw elbows just for the chance at a drink that may or may not be overly watery depending on which one of the staff had to do the refilling.
At least this morning you were getting in early enough to avoid the crowd. Sure, you looked like a caffeine addict getting a large cup from the waitress' little corner before marching over to the station to skip over the ice, after all ice would only further water down a watered down drink, and just fill it right up to the top, but you felt like you deserved this. It was like a treat for having to venture out so early this morning and for being a responsible adult and heading to work a touch sooner than you had to. If anything, you looked like a stand up employee. Someone worthy of a raise or maybe, totally unrelated example, an ungodly large caffeinated beverage.
You took the thing between your hands like a small child holding their most cherished possession as you made your way to the counter. With not a soul in the building under the age of twenty, the place was almost eerily quiet. The staff never bothered to turn on the ambient music while you were alone. Who would given the fact you had to listen to it all day? It was the one time that you could think clearly without pings and discordant pop music barely intelligible through less than stellar quality speakers. Mornings were a time for a gentle quiet to settle in Freddy's. For people to enjoy the calm before the storm in every sense of the word an just exist.
You knew you should maybe do a round through the machines to see if any of them were having issues or maybe check the change in each to see if it was time to do a collection haul and bring a bucket of quarters over to Henry but you didn't want to do either. So, instead, you just tucked yourself away in your little corner, slurping a drink through a silly straw that made you more happy than it likely should.
I'm an adult.
You weren't sure if you had meant the comment to be more mocking or not but in your own head it sounded so satisfied. Yeah you were dirt poor and in a strange relationship, if that was what it was, but you had endless pizza, soda and arcade games. In a way, a younger you would have absolutely celebrated for you. A part of you wondered if you should take a little but of that past joy into your heart again. Almost ignorantly forget about the world around you and focus on the small things that could bring you joy. It worked for others, so why not for you? Why not stop the over complicated thoughts and analysis of things around you and just let things be.
Or maybe even that thought itself was driven by the self satisfied mentality you had settled in to since getting your car back. Oh well. You were sure this pleasantly pleased mental state would wear off within a few hours when the screaming began and all you could hope was when you walked away later this night you would at least not be over thinking yet again.
Your eyes sunk the the glass top of the prize case you were now leaning against as your mind began to drift. A smudged version of yourself looking up at you vaguely as the tops of cheap toys greeted you just like they did every other day. Candies that were way more addictive than they should be almost gleamed in the light begging you to pick them up and pop them in your mouth like you had dozens of mornings before. You were eyeing a particularly tempting lollipop with Chica's taunting grin, eyes narrowing as if she had challenged you by just existing, when something that wasn't your own derailed thoughts finally stole away your attention.
"You know, there isn't another you inside that case. It's just your reflection."
"Ha. Very funny, Afton."
"I'm not trying to be funny. I'm genuinely worried about your mental health. Watching you look at reflective surfaces is like watching a puppy do the same. Pretty sure you were five seconds from attacking the stranger locked in the box."
Oh, so that's how this morning was going to be.
You didn't even need to look up to know there was that damn smile on his lips. You could hear it well enough. You only rolled your eyes in response before doing him the favor of actually making eye contact. And here you were worried this morning that your day would be awkward and each interaction stilted with the knowledge of what could have been. Nope. No need for worry. You forgot just what sort of a guy Michael was and just how close his light teasing was to school yard insults that made any trace of unease melt away. Sometimes you struggled to find a difference between talking to Michael Afton and dealing with one of the many elementary school children that tried to peer pressure you into free goods.
You think the children were a touch more mature.
"Um, where's your manager? I'd like to file a complaint."
"About?"
"There's like this total asshole of a security guard that's ruining my me time and that keeps insulting me."
"I'm not insulting you. I'm checking on you."
He cocked his head to the side in a way that was both infuriating and that made your thoughts calm to silence as his curls bobbed in front of his face and you got the sudden urge to smooth them back. They were more prominent today. His hair forming perfect little strands that you knew you could easily slide a finger in to play with. It looked damp, maybe fresh out of the shower before he made his way over here. A dangerous thought began to bubble up in your head and you stomped it out before it could even properly form. Before you could connect Michael and showering in a way that you knew would only get yourself in trouble later on.
"Isn't your shift later?"
A shrug from him. Such a nonchalant movement before he leaned against the counter. His own posture mirrored yours as his face came far too close for comfort. You didn't know where to look when he was this close. His eyes were dangerous, you knew that much, but you didn't exactly want to stare at his hair for longer than need be else you'd find yourself giving in to the urge to touch and tease. The only refuge, that hardly was one at that, came in the form of his lips. Of eyes darting down for the briefest moment before the implication of that look fully settled in your mind.
You wondered if he kissed like his father or if he was far sweeter with it.
Stop.
"Covering for a friend."
"You have friends?"
Your eyes darted up for the last time just as his lips twitched into a pout. There was no where that was safe to look, you decided. Every part of his face too much of a danger when it was hovering this close to yours. Were the two of you even speaking normally any more? You felt like your voice was caught in your throat and your lips moved with words obscured by secrecy. Small little whispers of things really. You would wonder why, but he made that thought so impossible.
"Wow. Rude. I thought I had you. Aren't we friends?"
Finally, his head ducked and your thoughts slowly began to form once more as the realization of what he was doing began to actually come to you. His lips met the straw you were using and before you could even attempt to accuse him of theft your drink was in his hands and he was pulling away. There was a beat and then two where you had to force a system reboot. Too early to be this close to someone. Too unfair to use such dirty tactics.
You opened your mouth as if to say something but you just found it opening and shutting around words that you couldn't fully form as you watched dark soda ease it's way up the curves of the straw. You couldn't tell if you were more upset that he took it or angry at how smooth the steal even was. You could be both, you think.
"If you steal my sodas? No."
"It's called borrowing."
"You can't borrow a drink. You drink it and it's gone. I don't want a drink back."
You realized the error of your thought process just moments before a spark entered Michael's eyes. You meant you didn't want the beverage, the liquid, back but you understood just how he was taking it and just why that damn smile was spreading like a child that had played his best fake sick act in order to get the day off.
"No wait-"
"No, no. You said you don't want it back. It's mine now and I appreciate the donation to the security guards in need fund. Your contribution wont be forgotten."
"Your family owns this place. You could drink straight from the tap if you wanted to."
"But I don't because I have such good friends that are looking out for me."
He gave the drink that once was yours a loud slurp almost in emphasis. The curly straw only making the sound worse. Amplified and emphasized by the contours of the straw and the plastic vibrating with each dramatic noise the man made. Sometimes you wished he did things like a normal human being and not like a theater kid with too much time on their hands.
"I'm asking Henry for a transfer of departments. I hear the kitchen is free of security guards."
"I hear there's major security breaches in the kitchen. Might have to start doing patrols soon even."
"Engineering."
"One, that 'department' is just Henry and two, yeah super insecure there too. Killer robots from outer space hiding with the usuals. Why do you think Foxy's never around? The imposter was taken out by your favorite security guard. You're welcome."
"Man I wish that were me."
"What? That you were from outer space?"
"No, that I wasn't around."
"I mean, if you want, I could take you out too."
It was so smooth that you couldn't even think about bringing yourself to be upset about the drink thing. It only made you smile and shake your head. He, in return, looked so pleased with himself that you were afraid that pretty little face of his would break somehow. You could have sworn his chest puffed up in pride that he managed to fluster you in any way even if it was so slight.
"Don't you have a round to do or something? A patrol to make? People to kick out?"
"Not before opening."
A shrug from him though it was still a happiness to the movement, it was like he was holding back saying something. Holding back the actual reason he had stopped by. Though what that could be you had no idea, especially this early in the morning. Unless… No, he couldn't have known about anything last night. There was no way. He probably just came over here to tease or worse. Michael wasn't observant as Mr. Afton pointed out. You just hoped he was right.
"Plus I kind of wanted to talk to you about something?"
He looked almost guilty. Guilty or concerned. Whatever the emotion was it wasn't something that you enjoyed seeing on Michael. It made something in your gut churn uncomfortably and it wasn't a feeling you wanted to linger on.
"What'd you do?"
Your words bordered on accusatory, jokingly so, but they still managed to make a touch of lightness return to him. He pouted, a bratty little expression, before he shook his head. You thought he was going to walk away from you. His back suddenly facing you as he put down your drink but to your surprise he only welcomed himself to finding a seat in the only spot it was available. Your counter. How someone who was already tall thought it was acceptable to prop himself up on something already so high up you didn't know but it made it so you had to stare further up than before. It felt like you were talking to his damn father.
"I didn't do anything."
You gave him a look of disbelief, one that he shook his head at and sighed in his usual dramatic fashion. That gave you the distinct feeling that he entirely was at fault yet when he shook his head a second time a look of frustration crossed his face. One you knew wasn't directed at you but that had something to do with whatever was occupying his mind.
"It's not me. It' s my dad."
Oh. Oh no.
"He make you get up this morning or something?"
Your attempt to lighten the mood this time was anything but wanted. His eyes flicked to you with annoyance just below the surface which caused what smile was creeping onto your lips to deflate. That was not the reaction you were expecting even if he hated the man.
"He had someone over last night."
Fuck.
One single sentence had your heart racing again and that now familiar feeling of dread settling in like it belonged. Maybe he wasn't talking about you. Maybe his father was worse than he let on and he brought some other women over after you. Or maybe it was some at home business deal gone wrong. An old man fight in a living room over a delivery of cups that wouldn't make it on time to a party or something. You could only hope.
"Like… a friend?"
"A woman."
"And…?"
You didn't see anything wrong, well beyond the fact that it was you, with him having someone over that was a woman. He was a single dad and though it might be uncomfortable for his kid to hear they were allowed to date too. Plus, having a woman over didn't really mean that they were doing anything less than appropriate. The fact that your little venture became R rated didn't mean it always did. But the incredulous look on Michael's face as his head whipped around to look at you instantly made that dread intensify into guilt. Without even having to say anything, you knew that his next words would destroy something but you just weren't sure how much devastation would follow.
"He's married? Or is cheating just a normal thing for you?"
His words sounded bitter and harsh, especially the last few. While normally you would question his hatred towards his father, for once it felt justified. More than that, the 'misplaced' venom directed towards you felt more right than anything he had ever thrown your way.
You felt sick as something churned in your gut. Married? Everyone made it sound like his wife was gone. Out of the picture. Divorced or, worse, dead. But she was still around? You'd think that would be the first thing out of his lips the first time you went somewhere. The first time you spoke in a way that was anything but professional. But no, he squirreled that away for himself like the forbidden secret it was. But then was he really that subtle about it? He brought you to a far away bar under a different name knowing that no one would catch him. He chastised you, even though it sounded joking at the time, for even somewhat mentioning going somewhere with someone to Jessica. You were never seen in public with him. Not in Hurricane. Sure, it was just a few little meet ups so far and there was nothing that seemed suspicious at the time but looking back it was like a breadcrumb trail that everyone that you could see.
It made you want to vomit.
"Oh my god." The words left your lips in a disgusted mess and Michael seemed to loose an inch of tension. The disgust mistaken to be towards an unknown second party and not towards yourself.
"Michael, I'm so sorry."
Your apology sounded like that of a sympathetic friend. Of someone offering condolences towards a life crumbling around them. But even on your ears it sounded too personal. Too sincere. Too much like you were on the verge of crying and begging for forgiveness from just a simple revelation.
His eyes flicked towards you for a moment, brows furrowing in confusion before the tension began to melt from his shoulders. His eyes slid shut and you watched as he took a few steadying breaths. You were ready to be yelled at. To have your entire friendship crumble in a matter of seconds and, to be honest, you wouldn't blame him in any way. You would accept it. Accept that you were something beyond terrible. Yet when he opened his eyes again and those baby blues lingered on you there was something so gentle in them. A sort of thanks. A comfort that came with knowing that someone truly cared. It was your turn to be confused. The feeling mixing together with your guilt to make the world spin around you and that caused you to regret even having a snack today.
General Fic Warnings and Tags: William Afton/Reader/Michael Afton (eventually), eventual smut, adultery, alcoholism, dubious consent, drug use, consensual non-consent, body writing, pet play, assault, gore, murder and kidnapping [Most currently not in the fic but a heads up feels right]
It wasn't really a walk of shame that you were subject to. More a scramble of guilt as you struggled to hide the mess you had made of your dress during William's fleeting affections. Not that anything his fingers did to you was something you would write off as some fleeting whim but the time he spent with you was so frustratingly short compared to what you really wanted. What he really wanted too, you assume. Even now as he ushered you back through that same hallway from before as your eyes frantically kept flitting down the hall in hopes of catching Michael before he caught you his hands stayed on you almost possessively. Fingers tensing when you stepped a little too off for his liking, when the quickly cooling fabric between your thighs made you shift your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.
It was his fault, you knew it as much as he did, and you knew that a part of him took satisfaction in it. Maybe it was how he looked at you. How flashes of ice would stare down at you for a touch longer than they needed to. How there was always the start of a smile threatening to turn the corners of his lips up with delight. There was a smugness hidden beneath that calm exterior of his that drove you insane. You hated it yet somehow loved it all the same.
It was dead silent as you made it back into the garage and in to his car. Michael's own sitting there next to his like a reminder of just who you were actively avoiding. It made your gut churn uncomfortably as you side stepped back into the passenger seat. Silent movements and the most delicate close of a door as to not alert him of two separate slams. You even tried to sink down into your seat which only earned a confused tilt of the head from the man next to you. He said nothing though as you tucked yourself away in case someone was peaking out of a window. Paranoia guiding every movement to leave not even the smallest slip up to chance.
You said nothing as he backed up. As you watched him turn and saw a look of focus and concentration leak into his expression as he guided the two of you out of the driveway. You assumed he missed Michael's bike by the lack of a sudden crash but it was the last thing you could possibly care about. You just waited, a hunched up mass, fully content to stay that way until you got back to your place if you had to. But William had an entirely different plan for you. A hand came to rest on your back as you felt the car change directions. His fingers pressing into your back and stopping at each joint of the spine. You didn't know if it was supposed to be a comforting gesture or not but it had you looking up at him from your folded over spot.
"No one will see you, you know. And even if they did, they wouldn't care."
A blatant lie and you knew it. You were in a small town, of course people cared. Though maybe it was the actions of that very hand that lingered on your body that made your own mind jump towards conclusions. Conclusions you hoped no one else would make the same leap towards.
"I know." You didn't. "Just, don't want Michael to see."
"You think my son stares out of windows for hours on end like some tragic neglected figure in some late night TV show? Maybe his influence is rubbing off on you too much. Those shows will rot your brain."
"I don't. He just might look out at any moment."
Yes, because people usually just did that. Yes, it was normal to look out windows now and then but not to dramatically stare after one's own hated father. Perhaps while glaring at the car and plotting some sort of revenge. Maybe Michael's soap operas had slipped into some corner of your mind more than you realized. Or maybe it was just your paranoia that was truly that strong.
Either way you saw him roll his eyes out of the corner of your vision. An open gesture that he didn't even try to hide.
"Then sit up."
His words were a touch more harsh than the others that left his lips. A drop of annoyance dripping into them and tainting what should have been a simple comment. It made you frown though he didn't seem to have any desire to retract a single thing as his fingers traced along your spine far lower than you were expecting. Maybe it was just a tactic to get you to sit up straight or maybe he wanted to resume whatever was interrupted inside but whatever his initial intention was you sure were sitting up now. His fingers hand no time to linger and press on the seam he could feel through the fabric as he dipped almost sinfully low causing your body to dart up. His hand was temporarily trapped between your body and the seat but he didn't seem to mind even as you felt his fingers twitch ever so slightly and you forced yourself to look over at him.
"What are you doing?"
"You seem stressed."
His words were like liquid honey on your ears. Smooth and oh so casual. You suppose you should be a touch more used to that. How he could just turn that on so easily to get his way. How quickly he could make something in the back of your mind stand at attention if not just to demand his. It should have been pathetic but god did his voice sound so sweet in moments when it was corrupted by his own terrible desires.
"He almost caught us."
"He wouldn't have."
"You called him into the room."
"He wouldn't have."
His hand twitched where it was, finally coming to life and withdrawing from where you had it trapped. You don't know if you missed the touch when it finally did leave or if you were still far too nervous to even appreciate what it offered. The more he drove and the further you got from the Afton family house, the more you felt the disgusting churn of guilt bubbling up inside. Not just because of Michael but because of all of it. He was your boss, you were so much younger and there were so many things you shouldn't be doing with a man like him. All of which, you wanted to do more than anything in the world. At least, you did in his living room. Here? You weren't so sure anymore.
The ride was awkward. Filled with words unsaid and side glances that made you question if you truly knew what was lingering on the tip of his tongue. You didn't know if you were more tempted to tell him you should never do that again or to invite him up to your place so you could pick up right where you left off. You knew that the smart thing would be to leave this where it was. To not touch on it and let whatever this was die between you two but you never really prided yourself on doing what was smart. If you did, you wouldn't had fled your only home.
Still, the words you wanted to say felt like they were trapped in your throat. Like they were suffocated by logic you knew you didn't fully possess.
Even as he parked across the street, parked not simply stopped for a quick drop off, you felt the familiar nerves bubble up and your desires battle with what was likely right and proper. His eyes went to yours and for a moment you were half tempted to pick up what you had started here in the car itself. Desperation must have been written on your face, that or maybe some spark of the battle that was warring inside, as he smiled at you in such amused way that there was no possible way it could be just a simple smile. Then again, you were starting to wonder if there was even such a thing as simple when it came to him.
His eyes never left yours almost like he was expecting something before he cocked his head to the side. The gesture felt familiar, like something you had seen Michael do time after time, and it had that guilt bubble up and solidify in your gut into something you knew you couldn't ignore. You knew what you had to say. You knew you should just tell him thank you and then go your separate ways yet you found yourself unable to let out more than a huff of breath before he spoke. His words back to being so honeyed they were practically dripping.
"I had a lovely night tonight."
It was a line that should have been yours and that was laced with such a sweetness to it that it felt like he stole it right out from under you. A candy taken from the hands of a child. At least, when put next to him, you supposed that wasn't too far off of a comparison.
"I am sorry about Michael's interruption and the scare that you likely had, but know that even if we were to continue in the living rom, he would never have known. He's… not the brightest in the world. I love him dearly but he's off in his own world most of the time."
But if he loved him, why did that word sound so foreign on his tongue? Why did it sound like the word itself carried such a foul aftertaste that he could barely stand the thought of it?
"He would never come willingly into any room I was already in. For as long as we've lived alone together he's avoided me like the plague unless working and even then the chances of him doing anything but scoff are low. But that didn't make me calling him over any less… inappropriate. And for that I'm sorry. I wasn't… thinking straight, maybe even at all. One could say I was preoccupied even."
There was a small smile on his lips. Something that seemed almost caring. Honest. A touch of something far lighter than you had ever seen grace his features. It seemed almost out of place given the usual somber fog that seemed to linger around him that was only ever broken up by the sleaze of a businessman getting exactly what he wanted. He wasn't a cruel man by any means, at least not to you, but this was hardly what you were expecting. Maybe a request to continue or a hand placed rather blatantly on your knee but not this.
You didn't know what to make of his apology. The look he had in his eyes at the time seemed like anything but preoccupied. William seemed focused and sharp with something like satisfaction hiding behind that look he held. He was zoned in perhaps more than you had ever seen him and the memory in itself of that damn look made you feel warmer than you cared to admit. Yet maybe it was a simple misunderstanding. Satisfaction that was born from a more carnal act instead of laying a trap for whatever cruel game you had found yourself in the middle of with this cursed family. And he seemed genuine.
Everything Michael implied he would never be.
Even as his lips inched ever so slightly higher as the corners of his lips made his smile just a little brighter with the lightness of his last words he seemed real.
"Yeah. You uh, you could say you had your hands full."
You tried to match that lightness with your own. A small chuckle left his lips in response and made something in you instantly come forward to squirrel away that sound for later. It was a nice little thing. Something that matched how soft his eyes could get for the briefest of moments. You decided rather instantly that you wanted to hear it more often though you doubted you knew how you even could.
"One hand, certainly."
It was your turn to laugh. A little awkward thing not entirely done out of politeness but that felt strange on your lips due to the situation alone. Sitting in your car laughing with your boss about your sexual encounter was new. Not the most normal of things in the world but you wouldn't entirely mind if it became so for you.
"Though, I suppose we should end the night here."
You nodded. A part of you was thankful that he, at least, saw restraint. You had a bad feeling that the more you two spoke the more quickly your own would fly out the window. A common feature of the Aftons, it seems.
"We've both had enough excitement for the night, I think. Besides, you do have work early in the morning."
His words, at least the last few, caused something in you to fry. The responsibility in the sentence feeling so incredibly foreign given what happened mere moments ago that it was almost comical. It left you sitting there with an expression that was anything but flattering for one beat then two before laughter left your lips louder than you had ever meant it to. It only caused his head to tilt to the side as an expression of what could only be concern to cross his features. After all, there was no cause for your sudden breakdown. Dehydration from earlier, perhaps, or maybe a lack of sleep. Whatever it was in his eyes he seemed worry for you in a way deeper than just politeness.
"You sound like my boss."
His brow furrowed there, worry only intensifying at the nonsensical words that left your mouth. You don't know why but that only made it all that much more hilarious. Maybe he caught on to it, or maybe he was just humoring you, as your laughter seemed to soften whatever concern was carried in those broad shoulders. At least, just by a touch.
"I am."
"I know. You just have a strange way about you when it comes to how you treat employees."
"Do I?"
You could tell that for a fraction he thought some genuine critique was going to leave your lips. A spark of interest settling in his eyes that came with the focus of someone in a managerial position. That look that said he was on the verge of hearing something either extremely important or dreadfully annoying. It was only your smile that made that notion vanish in a flash. A teasing little thing that felt too comfortable all too quickly. Seriousness faded from him yet again to be replaced with the calm of the game, or whatever you could call this back and forth when it was more in the open.
"Ah, I suppose I do. Though, it's only employees that I like that receive special treatment."
"And you like me then?"
"Of course. You always show up to work on time and I've only had to scold you a handful of times. The company you keep could be better but I'm not the sort to police personal interactions."
No, but he was one to judge them.
"And you like a lot of your employees then?"
An attempt at probing on your half. A simple trap laid for your boss who only made a look of disgust in response that told you far more than his words ever could. Though you didn't doubt that the man would express more than a few of those any way.
"God no. Most of staff either drools over my son or scurry away the second I look their way. Neither of which are very appealing traits."
Traits you could argue that you held, at least in part. Sure, you didn't drool over Michael but you couldn't deny that there was an attraction there. You had eyes and his son was rather easy on them. But, then again, so was he. And you were more than a little guilty of avoiding certain hallways just to cut down on your chances of seeing him. Well, at least you used to. Now you seemed to find him without even trying most days. It would be eerie if the man wasn't such a workaholic that you doubted he did much other than haunt the building.
"I wasn't just saying things because I enjoy the sound of my own voice, you know. I really haven't done this sort of thing in… a long while."
If a man like him could look embarrassed you think it would be like what he was right now. His eyes flicking to the center console between you two before returning to your gaze. For once, you failed to hold it for long before he found this or that far more interesting. The awkward embarrassment of a man who was out of his element. Though how you didn't really know. Someone that was shy about this sort of thing wouldn't have moved as quickly as he had. They wouldn't be lingering in the parking lot across from your place either almost like they were waiting for an invitation despite the agreement to part. Actions and words painting a stark contrast to one another making your head ache more than you had the capacity to focus on.
It was in your head, you think.
"I know, I believe you. I haven't either. And… I enjoyed it. Not just… you know, but dinner."
"And here I was beginning to fear I scared you away with my cooking."
"Oh, I'm terrified of your cooking but the night was nice despite it."
"Terrified-" He scoffed, eyes rolling like you were being dramatic. You felt like you were anything but. If anything, you were just being practical about it all.
"With all due respect to you as someone in a position that could easily fire me, your cooking is something close to a war crime."
"That is anything but respectful."
"So is your cooking."
"I could fire you, you know."
"I would prefer it if you didn't."
"And I think I preferred when you were a shy little thing."
You didn't realize that you were acting anything but. Or that you, at least, were speaking a touch more freely. Sure, you were nervous, that uncomfortable hold on your heart would never truly go away, but there was something almost soft about the feeling between you two now. Maybe it was in your head driven by the afterglow from earlier, even with the ruined effects, it still caused something in you to be locked away. It forced genuine stress and discomfort into a cage to be locked up until you completely forgot about the pleasure you had experienced. But that was bound to come later when you were alone or in the early morning tomorrow when the nerves of seeing him again decided to settle in.
Still, you couldn't help but smile.
"I should get going."
You knew it was best to break up this conversation before you got too comfortable. Before you got too loose and free with your words and he had a Michael to return to. Or, a home you suppose. Not a person to look forward to seeing but a thing.
"That might be best. Wouldn't want to stay out too late. Who knows what lurks in the shadows."
"Because walking over to my apartment from a parking lot is one of the most dangerous things that could happen."
"Most bad things tend to happen when one becomes overly comfortable."
You took it as a simple reminder. Something almost fatherly in a way. A reminder from an older man to keep an eye out when walking alone on darkened streets and nothing more. Even that was giving the words more importance than you felt he probably meant them to have.
"I really did enjoy the meal. We should um-" You hesitated. Did you want to do this again? Was it safe given how close you had come to discovery? "We should do this again some time."
And like that the doubt was chased from your mind. Michael's smile looked even more dazzling when aged like a fine wine. Wrinkles and sighs of the years enhancing the brilliance of it to make that girlish part of your brain overheat with the sudden overwhelming-ness of it all. That was the sort of smile that made you tempted to invite him inside. Or, worse, continue where you left off here and now. But that was too dangerous. You had enough logic left to stop yourself though that didn't stop the thought from crossing your mind or graphic thoughts to filter in that you best not linger on with company.
"We should. Maybe without interruption?"
"I… maybe."
"I'll take a maybe."
There was a silence that settled then. Not one that was awkward or that felt suffocating but the kind that settled in a conversation when one didn't know who came next. Politeness mixed with the enthusiasm of things left to be said. Eyes meeting and lips parting as if to say more only to wait for the next sound to leave your or his lips. There was something exciting about it in a way that you couldn't really describe.
Maybe that's because you knew.
Somewhere deep down you understood what was to come even without fully registering it. Even before you could process that he was leaning towards you and bridging the gap between you. Even before you felt the press of his lips against yours or the itch of the ghost of a beard that wasn't as clean shaven as it appeared. It started so soft like an invitation of sorts before he pressed against you far more harshly. You'd call it desperate if it was anyone but him. Rusty, maybe, instead. Yet not unwanted. Not by any means. You found yourself pressing back as your eyes slid shut. Lips soft and gentle in comparison as you enjoyed the last crumb of affection for the night. For god knows how long, really.
You weren't bold enough to deepen it. A silly thought given how far he had managed to take things in just a few hours yet one that seemed to linger in your mind even as you felt cold fingers gently cup your cheek. The feeling made a chill go down your spine. It was oddly sweet though the grip was strange. A bizarre way to show affection though you had no complaints. He was a bizarre man. But it was only when those fingers began to apply pressure that your eyes shot open once again. Fingers digging in on the verge of pain to press their way into the gap between your teeth even through cheek. A pathetic little sound left you, or tried to, as you parted your lips only to have it be devoured by the man who seemed to be waiting for just that moment.
His tongue made his way into your mouth with a fury that made your hands grip his shoulders in a cry for mercy. It wasn't very long, enough to take your breath away and make something stir inside of you, before it was all over. Not a single word left his lips and his breath seemed almost deceptively steady as he pressed his foreheads against yours. An intimate gesture that felt like it was on the verge of too much too quickly. His hand kept your head in place for a moment as you stared up with wide eyes as you struggled to suck in whatever air you could. It all seemed warm, far warmer than felt right at the moment, and it all tasted like him.
His hand squeezed again, fingers digging into cheeks and causing your lips to pucker, before his grip softened and it began to trail lower. Fingertips brushing against your jaw so softly you feared it was just an illusion before they came to rest against the sensitive flesh of your neck. Another shiver though somehow this felt far more vulnerable as he pressed those fingers to your pulse. You couldn't even bring yourself to wonder why before you felt his hand grasp in a way that made your heart race. He could feel it under his fingers, you knew he could, as he squeezed your neck ever so slightly. No where near something that would be dangerous but enough to make you feel vulnerable. Weak.
"Sleep well."
You couldn't process his words, not fully. They sounded foreign on his tongue as you watched his lips with devotion that a man like him didn't truly deserve. Confused words brewing in your mind so jumbled by it all that you could hardly pluck a few away just to use to fill the silence before his touch vanished and he leaned back in his seat. It was a dismissal, a farewell, coupled with a self assured smirk that made everything fall apart. That was a look of a man that knew what he was doing not of some lonely father fresh on the market once more. All nerves and shyness from either of you vanishing in a moment of truth to be replaced by desire and honesty that was far more real than the dinner or fumbling around from earlier.
It made your head spin.
It was in your head, surely.
You nodded, a motion that made you feel dizzy when mixed with it all and you came to realize your lungs burned and pleaded for air you forgot to take in. Breathing came first then you could think. Or maybe that would take longer to recover. You knew your words certainly would.
Your hands flew to the handle of the door before you had time to reboot. Limbs splayed out and struggled to find purchase on the concrete outside the car. A part of you worried you would make a fool of yourself but a far larger part didn't care. There was no point to worrying about that when you were already stumbling around with all the grace of a newborn deer. At least, you were in your head. Where your reality and inner turmoil collided you couldn't fully tell. You only knew that your steps felt unsteady and your knees weak as you rushed back to your apartment.
You didn't bother looking back at him, you knew you would only embarrass yourself in some way, and the sound of laughter that was hardly muffled made your cheeks burn already. You could tell yourself all you wanted that it was just in your head and that he was likely just sitting there staring but you knew that there were some things that even you had to admit to.
You couldn't focus properly as you rushed inside. Your mind replaying his kiss over and over again in your head along with that hand gripping your neck. You swore you could still feel it there. His grip restricting your very breathing as you tried your hardest to steady yourself. Nothing worked, not truly. Everything just made you think of him.
Even as you shoved your front door open and went about the motions of what would be a normal wind down, you felt the world around you moving both too quickly and slowly in a terrible mesh that left you feeling lost. You wanted to run back down there and ask him to come up and to feel that hand on your neck again yet you also knew of the danger that came with that. How, if he was anyone else, that would be something that would chase you away. A squeeze on the neck mid conversation, if you could call what you two were having a conversation, was hardly something of romance or affection.
But then why did it make your heart race?
The thought of it swam about your head more than you cared to admit and that damn look on his face only made it worse. It was like he knew it would cause you to crumble and come undone. Then again, it always did. Every little surprise he sprung on you made your heart twist and your brain struggle to catch up. He enjoyed it, you think, he had to. Else his laugh wouldn't be haunting you nor that look that lingered in his eyes.
It just all lead you back to the same conclusion over and over again.
You were fucked. Well and truly fucked and worse than that you hoped it was your boss that would end up doing it. Michael or no Michael, you knew you would cave far too easily the next time he laid his hands on you and you doubted that you would even have the common sense to think of just how bad of an idea this all truly was. You just wanted to hear his voice coax humiliating sounds from your lips as those hands did whatever he wanted them to.
You needed a cold shower.
The thoughts were just getting worse and you were starting to lose the will to fight them. Maybe it was wise to go straight to bed. To just let those thoughts comfort you with images of what you couldn't yet have in your dreams. Let that desperate and needy part of you have her fill without any repercussions. That was far safer than what your body really wanted. Maybe with sleep you'd find your head clear enough in the morning to think about whatever this was with more PG-rated thoughts. With practicality instead of physicality.
Or you'd just wake up wet and wanting what you couldn't have.
A fifty-fifty shot that you couldn't afford not taking.
General Fic Warnings and Tags: William Afton/Reader/Michael Afton (eventually), eventual smut, adultery, alcoholism, dubious consent, drug use, consensual non-consent, body writing, pet play, assault, gore, murder and kidnapping [Most currently not in the fic but a heads up feels right]
You felt more dizzy than any state carnival fun-ride could ever hope to make you. The sudden withdraw making your body ache as he stood there with that grin you grew more and more desperate to wipe off his face. A chill had quickly began to settle in. It was the only thing that snapped you out of whatever state he left you in. It made you realize that you were colder than you should have been and with a blank dazed look you let your eyes drift down. The sight of your hiked up dress showing far more than what was decent had your cheeks heating though you doubted there was a moment in the last few minutes where they weren't bright red. Hands clutched at the fabric, adjusting it as subtly as you could under the table, as you nodded to him.
Right. Dessert. That would clear your head. Something cold or maybe something warm. Just.. something, anything that wasn't him.
It was the wrong move, you think, to nod, to agree to anything that was floating about in that head of his so easily. More so when he came close, long legs closing the space between you two far faster than you could have imagined, to look down at you. Without even asking you felt your chair, which you still very much sitting in, was pulled out far faster than a man with those thin of arms should have managed. He was being polite. A gentleman you assume. But then no gentleman would have his fingers brush against your shoulders the way his did with such a simple movement. Fingers lingering on your shoulders before tailing up ever so slightly to vanish just like every other touch. A ghost that left you wondering if it ever truly was there to begin with. It was more than just a move of a chair, you knew that, and for a brief moment you wondered what those hands would feel like around your neck.
But that was a terrible thought. One that you knew you shouldn't entertain. Not right now at least. You had plenty of time to think about those hands later when you were alone. When you weren't walking the line between decency and making a terrible mistake with your boss. But would it be that bad if you gave in to those emotions? If you just happened to let your hands slip the way that his did? If you let yourself touch him in a mirror of his own actions? You could say it was a mistake, that you didn't mean to. He'd probably believe you. You were a shy little thing and you would never do something so bold. But then you knew that wasn't all an act. As much as a voice in the back of your head drove you close to that same near intimate touch you knew that you would hesitate when it came to action. You knew the logical part of your brain would stop you and insist that you remember who he was to you and how easily something like this could ruin your reputation.
Not like you had a reputation to begin with.
Mr. Afton held out his hand to you, a sweet little gesture, to help you get to your feet. You didn't really need it, you don't think many people did when offered but there was something so old fashioned about the gesture it was almost endearing. It almost made you forget that he was likely planning something. Almost made you even skip over that confirmation as his hand kept yours a touch longer than he should have. Even as you got to your feet you could feel the cold of his fingers seep into yours. They leeched your warmth as he tugged you forward ever so slightly, that very hand finally leaving yours if only just to settle on your lower back as you were becoming far too accustomed to. You could feel what little warmth his hand had stolen now seeping back into your own body through layers of fabric just to find its way home.
It sent a shiver down your spine.
His touch was guiding, leading you not towards the kitchen like you thought it would but instead towards a new room all together. Your shoes muffled on the carpet as he ushered you forward into the darkness. It was almost comical how you could see the trail left behind by Michael from the lights he left on alone. It made you wonder if it was just plain carelessness or some strange desire to spite his father by forcing him to do it instead.
But even thoughts of that vanished the moment that the room itself was lit up by a sudden flick of his free wrist. A cozy yellow toned light from overhead illuminated your standard family room. You had half expected it to be some cobweb infested mess with how little time the two seemed to spend in each other's company but it seemed pristine. Almost so to the point of being performative. A perfect room for a perfect family to spend time in.
It was more modern than you expected a family room to be but then with the sort of money the Afton's had you assumed that they did their best to keep up with trends. Even the less than pleasant ones that sucked what little personality a family room could have out to be replaced with something far too formal. You could see him talking to clients here, other business owners maybe, not his family. You couldn't see Michael with some plush or toy sitting on the floor enjoying his time after school. All you saw was the cold formality that came with adults talking one on one in hushed tones not meant for children.
But then, where your mind kept drifting wasn't exactly for children either.
He guided you to sit on one of the two sofas that seemed almost unused. The fabric crinkling ever so slightly as you sat making your earlier thoughts of disuse return to the forefront of your mind. He lingered for a moment as he contemplated sitting by your side before he finally moved on. His steps taking him out of your sight as he vanished somewhere behind you. You assumed he was fetching the actual dessert though the route he was taking was a different one than what you had just walked together. But he knew his home better than you and there was always more than one way to move about a house.
Though it should have been disturbing how easily he vanished like a shadow the moment he stepped behind you. Not a single sound even hinting at where he had gone leaving you in complete silence in a room that was so new to you. But then maybe you were just taking any sign you could as a much needed distraction in an attempt to take your mind away from the lingering desire that had settled between your legs. Legs that shifted to create just a touch of friction. Enough to cause a sea of choice words to bubble up in your head yet not enough to provide any sort of relief. If you were alone, truly alone and not waiting for him to reemerge from god knows where, you were half tempted to do it again if not to get just a touch more of that feeling to send the lightest shiver down your spine. But you had more self control than that. You weren't about to try to get yourself off as your boss left you high and dry. At least, not while in his living room. You had some self control and you were sure that if he had no intention to continue whatever that was at the table that you would be more than happy to finish what he started in his bathroom.
You could shame yourself all night later but you couldn't deny the buzz that the man left in his wake and the need to do something about it. Even as you subconsciously shifted again in a move you weren't sure the genuine purpose of. To get comfortable? Maybe but a part of you was yearning to chase that little bit of delight that came from such a simple gesture.
"Can't get comfortable?"
A ghost in every sense he appeared before you could even clock his return. Though maybe he never truly left. You wouldn't put it past him to simply watch as you squirmed. You would accuse him of getting off to it but you doubted that you could manage it without losing in whatever this cat and mouse game was developing in to.
You nodded, smiling at him lightly when he put a now full wine glass in front of you. So that's what he vanished to do. A simple top off of something you had hardly touched all night though you had a feeling you would be nursing it more and more if this back and forth were going to continue. You'd need it to strengthen what little nerves you had left.
"Always a little jittery in unfamiliar places." Not entirely a lie but he smiled like he saw through it and right to your very soul none the less.
"Right."
Those eyes refused to drift away from you, even for a moment, as he moved to sit next to you. There was a whole sofa that he could have sunk into yet he choose the spot directly next to you. His legs parting as he took up just a touch too much room and you found yourself trapped between his thigh and the armrest of the sofa. Maybe it was more comfortable than you first believed as you found yourself miraculously sinking into it as if it were your only savior. Then again, you could find a way to sink into a rock at the moment. Anything to get any form of distance put between you and him if not just to make it harder for him to pick up on how warm you had become.
It was just a shame that he bridged the gap himself.
You felt his hand settle on your knee causing you to jolt ever so slightly. Even now his fingers still held that touch of cold to them as they lightly gripped. Your eyes shot over to his quicker than you could truly register though he didn't seem to move in the slightest. His own icy blues still locked on watching every little movement from you with unparalleled interest like a predator watching their prey.
"Now, are we going to spend the next half hour continuing that little play we were putting on at the table or are we going to be adults about this?"
"About what?" Your voice was just a touch higher than it should have been and you saw the corners of his lips twitch though if he was about to frown or smile wider you couldn't tell. His fingers only tightened on your knee ever so slightly. A reminder that you didn't truly need.
"About the fact you wishing there was more than just my knee between your legs."
"Mr Afton! I-" Another purposeful squeeze though this one came with a subtle move. A small twitch upward ever so slightly that cut your words off quicker than any verbal shush ever could.
"Darling, I'm not new to this. Although if you'd like to deny the wet patch you left on my knee then by all means feel free to. I can pretend it was nothing and go get the dessert from the fridge. Maybe after a while you'll even stop squirming."
"I'm not squirming."
It was the only thing you could focus on. The only part of his words that you dared to refute even though you knew it was very much something you had no room to deny. The look on his face told you that and beyond. A small lopsided frown settling on his features for a moment before you felt a sharp pain near your knee as he pinched. A little yelp leaving your lips in response but as quick as the pain appeared it was being soothed away with a small circle drawn across your skin.
"Don't be a brat. I'm old, not blind."
If he was Michael you would let out a tease in return. An instance that he could be both but there was something about the look that lingered in those eyes that made you feel like you would regret it. He had been sweet to you so far, gentle, but the brief spark of pain from moments ago made you realize that there was something else there too. Even if it was just the smallest pinch that could mean nothing more at all it had your mind filling in gaps that weren't even there.
"Sorry, Mr. Afton."
An apology that you knew you didn't have to make and that you knew would just be met with a reprimand the moment it left your lips. Still reluctant to call him William even in a time like this. Though, to your surprise, it brought a smile to his lips instead and caused his hand to finally move. Your legs shifted in response, thighs attempting to close as your eyes went wide and darted to him. Yet you couldn't deny the excitement that bubbled up inside. Even as a hand shot out to lightly grip at his wrist, a weak sign of resistance even you couldn't bring yourself to believe, you felt that bloom of excitement that threatened to make you squirm under his touch all over again.
Your touch was so light, barely any force behind it, that it did little to truly stop him though he did come to a pause as his fingers landed just shy of their target. His hand vanishing beneath the fabric of your dress, hiking it up obscenely around the very wrist you had locked in your grasp. He tilted his head, a small curious little movement, that was more amused than it likely should have been. Eyes still glimmering with something almost predatory as they darted down to that very hand before they returned to your face.
He said nothing at first almost daring you to use your words to back up such a simple movement before deciding, for both of you, that you wouldn't. He shook off your grip, letting his hand close the gap to brush against material that was far more slick than it had any right to be. You had the decency to blush even as you felt your thighs parting ever so slightly without even trying. A movement that caused more heat to travel to your face and sent your hands clutching at the sofa below.
He simply chuckled, a throaty little sound that made something in you melt.
"There we go." Amusement clear on his tongue as words like honey made your shoulders slump ever so slightly. It wasn't even praise yet somehow on his lips it felt as close to it as you could get without those two little words that made you unravel slipping free.
You felt his thumb press experimentally against the last layer between you and you couldn't decide if it was more an action meant for his enjoyment or for your torment. Yours, you assume, by the way his smile simply widened as the digit trailed up to tap at your aching clit. The feeling made you squirm again which only earned you another pinch. The fabric did little to dampen the sudden sharp jolt to your core that had you lurching forward and your thighs attempting to shut once again though his hand wouldn't let them. He simply rolled the bud tortuously slow between his thumb and finger with enough pressure to make your hips move yet not enough to make you squeal again. The momentary pain forgotten with one final light squeeze that was soothed by the same little circles. These were far more delicious than the little things he traced against your knee and drew out the faintest moan from you that you hardly even registered it.
Not to say that he didn't.
"You're not really one for sitting still, are you?" He asked like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"I've always been a little… restless. I guess." Your words struggled ever so slightly.
The pleasure becoming a dull but constant stream as the slickness was starting to become more a hindrance than an actual boon. Damp fabric sliding far too easily and removing all hopes of more intense friction from leaking into his movements. It was frustrating, maddening even. Something so close to delight only to be taken away from you by your body's own enthusiasm. A tragedy though not one that he didn't try to circumvent. You felt his thumb press hard against you again as his hand shifted. Fingers now joining that damn thumb as they began to stroke across a seam in the fabric. A seam far too high for anything you needed yet low enough to make your hips buck in attempt to guide him towards your real goal.
All you managed was to get his hand to still.
A frustrated sigh left you lips that time, eyes instantly darting to him with a mixture of frustration and petty annoyance leaking through despite your best efforts to remain calm. If one could even call rutting against his hand calm to begin with. That damn smile of his seemed glued in place, not even giving you the satisfaction of cracking an inch with your frustration, as he looked at you expectantly.
You weren't sure what he wanted but a part of you could guess.
"Please?"
"There we go. Was that so hard to acknowledge?"
His fingers picked up their rhythm again, pressing against fabric a touch more intensely than before which only made that pleasant warmth in your core spread with renewed vigor. His fingers far too experienced for their own good making you curse them and adore them all at once. He could see it on your face, he must have, the moment that those delicious little patterns resumed and you became far too reliant on his fingers to even breathe.
Your lips parted. Words of either desperation or desire threatening to spill forth only for them to be silenced by his. The stubble on his face tickled in a way you weren't familiar with. Rough hairs poking in just the right way that made a shiver run down your spine. He tasted like wine and made your head swim in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant. Fingers taking the distraction of his lips to push aside the sodden material in his way to slide against you more directly.
You groaned into the kiss, a sound that just made his lips spread into a smile against yours before he dared to go further. Lips parting to match yours as he pressed forward more and more. You barely registered his body pressing yours back until you hit the corner of the sofa as his free hand came to rest on one of your thighs. The taste of his tongue was far too distracting for you to care about much. The feeling of it sliding so effortlessly into your mouth. There was no softness to the movement, not beyond the illusion that lasted but a fraction of a second, as he moved. His mouth pressing against yours as he attempted to memorize every inch of you that he could. It was sloppy, more than you thought a man like him could be, yet you knew from the speed of his hand alone that he lived for it. Maybe the mask of the perfect business owner so polite and formal was beginning to slip to reveal the man underneath. A man that wanted to devour you whole.
You felt like you were going to choke. The mixture of his relentless tongue and his body pressing against you made any hope of breathing leave your mind to be replaced with nothing but thoughts of him. Thoughts of his cologne lingering in your nose and settling in your hair where you would no doubt be able to smell him later. Thoughts of his free hand pressing into your flesh and squeezing like you were his personal stress toy. Thoughts of those fingers of his turning inside of you and making you drool. It was shameful, you knew it was, but you couldn't stop the whine that fought it's way to the surface between your locked lips. The sound only met with another muffled noise, this time from him, a chuckle that you could feel settle in your chest as your hips ground against his hand without mercy nor care.
He freed you if just for a moment. Lips descending on your neck instead where his stubble caused you to squirm and writhe forcing more of that delicious friction to shoot waves of pleasure through your body. You couldn't even escape his torment without dragging yourself deeper into the pits of hell. His tongue trailed against your neck in a gesture that you were sure you would find more than a little disgusting if you were in your right mind but in your current state it only made you sigh out in delight. The trail his tongue left behind cooling as it hit the air sending a shiver down your spine.
The coil in your gut barely wound as he continued to tease and torture in every way he could. Fingers doing little more than simply play with you as he left you a pile of whimpers and huffs. It was only when you let out a particularly high pitched whine that he allowed you some small reprieve. Barely there friction evolved to something that made your back arch as a tip of a finger eased it's way through your excitement to find its home deep inside. The sigh you made was a sound of thanking the heavens even if it was such a small contribution. Yet it didn't stop there. No, William Afton wasn't a god of mercy or fairness but one that pushed far more than he should and that pulled equally as hard. Without giving you time to fully process the first, a second followed. You felt the cool press of metal against you as he came to rest as far as he could. You were vaguely aware of something on his finger but you could hardly even spare a thought of it when his fingers curled.
You swore you saw stars.
Unfairly long fingers caressing some part of you that you were never really able to touch but god you wouldn't mind having it touched again. Your lips parted in a pant that only caused him to laugh against your neck. He did that a lot, you think. Laugh at you, that is. But god he could mock you even and you wouldn't mind. As long as his fingers kept doing that he could do anything he wanted.
"If I had known this was how I could get you to stop squirming, I would have done it ages ago."
Though your hips contradicted his words. Back arching as they ground against his hand greedily trying to force them to hit that spot again and again. The coil was there now, present and looming like some promise on the horizon and god it was one that you wanted to greet. More than you wanted anything, you wanted that. You didn't care about the slick sounds that he drew from your body like some forbidden debauched melody or the fact his teeth sunk into your neck causing you to yelp from the pain of it all. You just wanted to chase that high he was dangling in front of you like a carrot. So close that your breaths came out in whines as his tongue soothed the marks his teeth had just left.
He was muttering something, you could hear it though you weren't sure you could process it, as your heart beat louder in your ears than anything you had ever heard before.
"That's a good girl. Come on, let me hear those pretty little sounds some more."
You wanted to oblige but the only thing you could manage were whimpers and breathy moans. Each sounding less and less like you in your head and more like that of a stranger far too lost in the world around them to be anything close to what you were. Your lips trembled. You wanted to tell him you were so close, that all he had to do was push you over that final edge, but you couldn't manage a single word beyond the one that mattered more than anything in the world.
"William."
He growled.
A sound that you felt deep inside as his fingers picked up their cruel pace. Palm grinding against your clit with every rough thrust of his hand. Even his lips found their way back to your neck. Teeth sinking in again so hard you could have sworn they drew blood but you could hardly care. All care vanished as you sat on the edge of release. Coil so tight you could have snapped it yourself with a stray thought if you even could manage it. Heart beating as you barely let yourself breathe.
So close. So incredibly close.
But the slam of the front door caused you to gasp.
Your hands instantly shooting down to try and pry his free, this time in earnest, only to be met with a glare and a rougher pace that made the ghost of a sound leave your lips before his free hand came to silence anything that could even dare to escape. You didn't want to topple over the edge. Not now. Not as you heard the shuffle of Michael just a few rooms over but with how his fingers worked inside of you you couldn't help but surrender to the wave of white that made your eyes clench shut and your thighs tremble.
What should have been a delightful swim in ecstasy quickly turned into a ruined mess tainted by guilt and anxiety. Your cheeks flushed and you shook your head under his hold but William did nothing but slow his movements to let you ride out the feeling in peace. It would have been a nice gesture if your heart wasn't threatening to leap through your chest at the smallest sound. You didn't want to ride this out, you wanted to run.
"Father?" Even in his own home Michael said it with such disgust that you could picture his face scrunching up in disdain. It sounded more like a required gesture than a genuine query. You doubted Michael really cared if his father was home and you hoped to any god that would listen that his hatred for his father extended to not even daring to come looking for him.
For once you hoped the dysfunction of their family was at the toxic levels it appeared to be from the outside.
"In here, Michael."
The look you shot William was one of pure disbelief. Frantic with wide eyes and a heaving chest as you shook your head. That sounded far too much like an invitation and you were in no where near any condition for visitors let alone for someone like Michael to see you. You were sure the sight of you with his father's hand buried between your legs would be the end of whatever friendship was brewing. But William didn't even flinch. He simply cocked his head to the side a little, nonchalance on his face, as he shook his own in response. His fingers moving again almost to remind you to stay silent, curling and uncurling within and making your skin crawl with the over stimulation of it all. The fingers you wanted so badly moments ago had become your worst enemy.
"Going to bed."
More hatred. A blatant rejection in response to something so neutral with such a curt string. They were to the point, cut short and dripping with as much annoyance as one could throw towards another human being for simply existing. It made your eyes settle on William, expression changing to one of almost sympathy as his own seemed to deflate. You don't know why you felt bad for the man in the moment when he had your reputation dangling by a thread but you couldn't help but feel it.
William simply hummed, a sound you doubted Michael could hear as you heard heavy boots stomp up what you assumed to be stairs. A whole area of the house you had yet to see. Though, to be truthful, you had hardly seen much at all. But it was a relief when those steps began to echo above you, each one heavier than the last almost like he was stomping through the place on purpose before a slam cut through the silence. Both your eyes lingered above you for a moment before they settled on each other once more.
William's fingers twitched inside of you and you groaned behind his hand. Slowly, almost tortuously, he removed those fingers so slick with your juices that they had a gleam in the light. His own eyes simply observed, fingers playing against them for a moment before you watched in a mix of embarrassment and delight as he brought them to his lips. His tongue darted out for a quick taste and in that moment you knew you could go all over again if not just to feel that tongue instead of his fingers.
He gave a hum as if he had tasted the most delicious thing in the world before he finally let his hand fall to the side. Eyes trailing over you for a second as if he too were thinking the same dangerous thoughts that made your stomach churn and your thighs press together. You knew you wanted him and for once in your life you knew what it was like to have someone look at you with a hunger that you knew was meant for you and you alone.
Michael be damned.
You were half tempted to speak, to beg and plead and find some way to make this work even if a part of the excitement had died to be replaced by guilt. But logic had other plans and so did he.
General Fic Warnings and Tags: William Afton/Reader/Michael Afton (eventually), eventual smut, adultery, alcoholism, dubious consent, drug use, consensual non-consent, body writing, pet play, assault, gore, murder and kidnapping [Most currently not in the fic but a heads up feels right]
You don't know how long you stared at the expanse of William's back before finally snapping out of it but you finally shook yourself awake with a start at the sound of a closing cabinet. The sound echoing in the empty home making the entire place seem like just a shadow of what it should be. He was a family man once. A man who smiled so brightly in photos in a way you felt was the most real thing you'd seen in a long time. You wished you could see that brightness again. In person this time and not just in a mirror of the past.
You forced yourself forward when the stove began to click to life. Gas and starter struggling to catch for a moment before it came to life with a quick spark. The ring of flames bright even under the lights of the kitchen causing that small touch of danger in the back of your mind itch to place your hand inside. Impulsive thoughts you would never act on and that you assumed everyone had. You vaguely wondered how many people had given in to that voice and felt the blinding heat on their skin. But was that voice really any worse than the one that tempted you bring your body closer to his?
He turned a little when he heard you, casting you a look over his shoulder, as he opened a drawer. A sea of neatly stacked silver pots and pans lined up perfectly inside and just out of your reach. The perfect height to help feed a family of giants.
"Make yourself comfortable. I'll have this ready in half an hour at most."
A clink followed his words as he placed a large pan on the burner. What little attention you had from him shifted then as he closed drawers and looked at the things he had already gathered before your approach. It was like he just assumed you would eagerly take him up on his word and leave him to cook. Cream, cheese, pasta and butter were all you could make out from where you were standing.
A pasta dish was easy, you thought.
Something even a divorcee or maybe a widowed father could manage. At least, you assumed so before you watched rather painfully as he put the hard pasta directly into the pan. Somewhere, someplace, an Italian chef clutched their heart in pain and you were half tempted to join them.
"Is there anything I could do to help?" Your voice sounded more panicked than you meant it to.
A part of you dying just seeing the dry heap of noodles sitting in the pan like an affront to god. All attraction briefly flying out the window to be replaced with sheer horror. He only raised an eyebrow at that clearly not understanding the weight of his sins. He only seemed to start to comprehend things when he caught your eyes darting to the noodles once more.
"..I've already messed up horribly, haven't I?" He sounded almost sheepish or as close to it as a man like him could get at least.
You could only nod frantically before stepping forward to quickly remove the pan from the heat. It didn't have much time to heat but it was still a touch too warm to add water to without a sizzle. He simply watched you, hands stuck in the position they were a moment before, as he cocked his head ever so slightly. You couldn't tell if he was annoyed or intrigued by the fact you helped yourself to fixing this crime against humanity but he didn't stop you at all as you busied yourself next to him. As you carefully removed the pasta, shoving it back into the box that you were eternally grateful he didn't toss just so you could have a place to put it before moving to stand below the pots and pans.
Even if he planned on making the pasta in the same pan as the sauce, there was no way in hell the one he picked out could fit both. Maybe for one. Maybe if that one happened to hate themselves. The more you thought about it the more you didn't know if this was simply nonexistent cooking skills or a desperate cry for help. You were going to assume the later until proven otherwise.
You simply stared up at the forbidden cooking ware for a moment. A part of you wondering just how much it would hurt if it all came falling down around you with one wrong grab. You assumed it wouldn't kill you but you suppose you would have to find out. You first tried your tiptoes, the graceful route, but when that didn't work bunny hops quickly took their place. It was around about the fourth jump that you felt your body slide against something else. Fabric on fabric causing your dress to rise ever so slightly.
It was an unintentional grind but one you hoped he somehow didn't notice yet as he let out a sound somewhere between a hum and a sigh you had a feeling it was far too obvious. Or maybe it was the feel of one of his hands on your hips once more that was the true tell. A steadying touch keeping you in place as his fingers sunk into your flesh almost teasing through the thin material as he reached beyond you with the other. It was so easy for him. A simple raise of an arm and it was within reach though his body did press into yours as if it was some sort of struggle.
You felt trapped yet you didn't mind. Not when his body felt so solid against yours, warm and near inviting compared to the coldness of the counter before you. You could blame the unfeeling solidity of the thing before you for how your body leaned against his but you knew that it was nothing but a cover. You knew you'd tell him that you were easily startled, you even felt the excuse lingering on your tongue like an ill timed mint, but you also were aware that for once you couldn't fully deny it. It wasn't a jump that caused your body to lean back against his as if you needed it. As if held you up better than your own legs could. You knew it was a choice made by you even if you desired to hide it.
You let your weight settle more on him. A subtle movement that felt more like a light brush than anything yet the hand on your hip changed grip ever so slightly. Fingers tensing against you slightly causing a shiver to run up your spine. The pot was entirely forgotten about the moment you felt him move close. His warm breath practically tickling your neck as he spoke.
"Behave."
A single word yet it felt like you were hit full force as he placed the pot on the counter before you. You could do nothing beyond look over your shoulder at him. Eyes wide and blinking almost innocently up at him as if you had no idea what he was talking about. It was the only defense you could muster. You knew words would only fail you and make you an embarrassed pile of mush yet you couldn't just stand there and say nothing.
"What?"
There was something that registered on his face for the briefest moment. Not annoyance like you would have guessed but a sort of amusement that caused the corners of his lips to twitch ever so slightly. A smile threatening to invade at any moment. He gave his head the lightest shake to school whatever it was back into place before he shrugged.
"I said to be careful."
He most certainly did not say that.
You knew you were no where near delusional enough to be imaging him being so close to you that you could feel his breath. And you certainly weren't creative enough in the moment to imagine what specific single word could destroy you to the level he seemed so amused by. But admitting that you had heard meant admitting to needing to be told that specific word. Admitting, in a round about way, that you were enjoying the feeling of your boss pressed to your back.
If he could pretend it never happened, you could to.
"Oh, right. Sorry, you just startled me a little."
"You're rather jumpy aren't you."
"So jumpy!"
Your words came out a touch too quick. A touch too enthusiastic. It only caused him to chuckle at you as he watched you move. This time he gave you space, stepping back to let you move in his kitchen more.
You should have been bothered by the fact that this dinner was turning into a cooking lesson yet you couldn't find it in you. If anything you felt like it was a way to hide whatever that was beneath a sea of words and demonstrations. Besides, beyond that it gave you, or him, a reason to inch closer and break unspoken boundaries you were starting to doubt ever truly mattered. It started small. He'd lean over your shoulder as you'd point out what to do. Salt in the water, pasta unbroken. Butter in a pan before you started adding ingredients for the sauce. All little things that you knew a man like him could easily grasp yet he seemed to struggle with. He'd linger close, body pressing against yours again so often that you had lost count, as he watched your movements. You'd let him mirror each action that truly mattered only to find yourself blocked in with nowhere to go. His tone so innocent when he asked if he was doing it properly as he refused to let you move out of the way.
It was intimate.
More so than you were expecting for a simple meal prep. You could feel the heat between you and you knew it wasn't just from the stove itself. Each movement and small brush against each other causing emotions to rise. At first, it was embarrassment. You assumed it was something that only you saw. That you were just over reading into simple movements that were nothing more than that. Yet by the third or forth brush against your body you knew your mind wasn't the only one reading into it. Your body began to move, just subtly, against him here and there. You'd lean on his arm or place a hand on his to show him 'the right way' to stir. There was no right way, you think. And certainly a man of his age didn't need to be told.
You were just being thorough.
Just making sure you helped this poor man out. After all, if you weren't going to show him how to cook, who would? A more paranoid part of you wondered if this was intentional. If he had purposefully messed up a simple meal just to have to volunteer to help. Maybe. But you didn't think he would plan as far ahead as this. You don't think he knew you would grow to be putty in his hands from a simple meal.
You were sure Jessica would tease you and call you easy for being worked up by something that was barely more than a touch. A brush, even. You didn't care. Jessica and the entire restaurant could fuck off for a night for all you cared.
But then it was gone.
The sweet little touches were gone in an instant when you had to admit that the thing was finished. Pasta added into sauce and stirred one last time before you had to admit the truth. Sure, you could pretend it needed more time on the heat if not just to have him linger near but you didn't want him to suspect. It wasn't like you were being obvious with it all. You weren't some desperate teen grinding on prom night even if that little devil on your shoulder insisted that it would be a good time.
You were just… flustered. And somehow that fluster was the most exciting thing you had felt in months. Years even.
You didn't want to think about just how much you almost enjoyed it yet you couldn't help it as your thoughts drifted. As you tried to move again only to be pinned against the counter. Another move for something in a cabinet that was far too tall. Another unintentional grind against you that caused your cheeks to heat as he retrieved a simple set of dishes. It almost made you dizzy. He didn't need to do that, you think. Weren't his arms long enough to bridge the gap without pressing so close?
You wished his arms were shorter just this once.
"How about you sit at the table and I'll bring the food. It's the least I could do after you were so kind with all of this."
You could only nod wordlessly. You felt the heat rising to your cheeks again. That last one was a grind, you were sure. Something that should only be intentional yet you couldn't decide what you genuinely thought it was. What you genuinely wanted it to be. This wasn't your standard indecision. No, you would be flopping between denial and want under normal circumstances. This was you knowing what you wanted but wondering if he truly wanted the same. You had a guess but you couldn't be sure and his sudden break from your body made your head clear if not for a moment.
The air felt almost chilled without him so close and your steps felt unsteady without him to support you but it was for just a moment. The ghost of whatever that was making your knees weak as you pushed yourself towards what you assumed was the family dining table. You could see it in the room next door. A long cut out in the wall made it easy to peek in from the kitchen. A house wife's dream really. You wondered if Mrs Afton enjoyed watching the boys ready the table from that very window or if she was met with empty space from two people that had no desire to be anywhere near each other. It was a sad thought to think and the very mention, even mentally, of Michael made something twist in your gut. Guilt, if you could put a name to it.
But whatever sour taste that could leave in your mouth was quickly erased by the clink of a plate and the sight of fine crystal you doubted you could ever afford. Your eyes darted from the wine to Mr. Afton though he didn't say anything and only retreated to gather his own food before taking his seat. Though you sat at one head of the table, across from where you assumed he would settle, you found him far too close yet again. He had deemed that seat too far apparently. The expanse of the table far too stifling when it came to conversation and that there was no true replacement for something more up-close and personal. And close he was.
As he properly sat down on your left you felt his long legs bump against yours beneath the wood. You tried to make yourself smaller, to press your legs close against your chair, yet somehow every move you made only seemed to be met with something similar from him. It was like trying to get around someone in a tight space. Neither of you really knowing what direction to go only making you both look the fool in the process.
You bit your lip, this wouldn't do.
You slid your plate to the spot across from him much to his amusement judging by that smile before you stood. You brought the wine with you which you weren't entire sure you would even touch through the night but something told you you would need it for that bit of sanity numbing goodness it provided. When you settled in your spot, he simply watched. A part of you wondering if circumstances were different if he would push in your chair like a gentleman or if that was just some romantic fancy settling in and filling cracks in his personality that left you more confused than they should.
Still, even here his legs brushed against yours tho at least they seemed more easy to avoid. You just pressed your legs together and let yours settle between his like a perfect little nesting doll. His pressed against yours ever so briefly almost like he was attempting to trap you before the pressure left again. Accidental. He was too old for playing footsie under the table though you were anything but.
"You're a good cook."
He had started eating while you were distracted by his legs. At least a bite. Just a little test likely to see if it was even edible or if the two of you were stuck ordering delivery. With how he cooked, you had a feeling that was a regular occurrence. Though you did have to wonder if someone like him would ever order pizza when he owned a place that made it. Maybe he would just call Henry to be his personal delivery boy or, worse, Michael. But that required the man eating to begin with.
"I'm not that impressive. It was a simple dish."
He gave you a look that said more than his words ever could. It very much was not simple, at least not for him. Funny considering the man could make metal and wires come to life and sing yet he couldn't figure out how to prepare something this simple. His wife cooked, no doubt, but it made you wonder if he ever had to fend for himself. Surely he had been single in the past and he'd had to survive for an unknown amount of time without her. He could have picked up something, at least. Anything.
"Then consider me a simple sort of man as I'm blown away."
You must have been the same as his simple compliment had your cheeks heating and your fork moving to shovel food into your mouth before you could say something idiotic. Another move that was either wrong or oh so right as the warmest chuckle left his lips that made that heat only intensify. The food had quickly become the least interesting part of your night. The meal itself more of an obstacle than the welcome distraction you had hoped it would be. Each bite feeling oddly heavy in your mouth as his leg brushed against yours again. The smallest apology leaving his lips between bites. A silent exchange for a moment as you two tried to pretend that there was nothing to speak of.
You wished that there truly wasn't.
"And how was your weekend?"
It was such a generic question that should be met with an equally generic answer but you didn't know what you could say without having too much slip through the cracks. You had a good weekend, yes, but you had also spent part of it with Michael. A fact you doubted would go over well with him. No, you couldn't be honest, not entirely. But then you didn't have to lie either.
"Good. Spent it watching trash TV mostly."
He scoffed.
"My son enjoys the same. He's addicted to those terrible soap operas on late at night. Used to catch him staying up at all hours just to watch them. The one mercy about his refusal to come home most nights is the blissful silence I get without that terrible acting."
"He doesn't come home?"
"No."
A pause between bites that seemed far too long. The kind of pause that felt loaded with words unsaid. Your eyes darted up to his only to see an accusatory squint to his eyes. It made them feel dangerous. Something that you should try your hardest to never see yet a part of you couldn't help but feel that surge of warmth deep down.
"But I'm sure you know that already." And there the warmth turned to the nausea of regret tinged with fear. "You two are friends, aren't you? I'm sure Michael has woven horrid stories about me. It'll only be a matter of time before he shows up on your doorstep asking for a place to stay."
You felt your shoulders relax ever so slightly. It was a hypothetical and nothing more. At least, you hoped it was. A simple warning about the stray that was his son landing on your door and using those puppy dog eyes to get what he wanted. It really was a shame, for William's sake, that you were such a sucker for those eyes.
"He wouldn't… would he?"
An innocent question that made you hopefully seem as innocent as it was. For a moment those steely eyes looked at you like they saw right through you. Not just your words but your very being right down to the excitement you felt under that intense gaze. It took a moment for whatever tension was there to melt as he took a bite of his food. He carefully chewed it down before giving a light shrug.
"He may. But you're a good girl. You'd never let someone like him into your home."
There were those words again. This time less of a compliment and more of a statement yet they still had that same effect. That same chill running down your spine as you shifted in your seat.
"No, sir. I wouldn't. I uh live alone so it wouldn't be right."
You don't know why you felt the need to be so formal but the twitch of his lips told you he appreciated it all the same. His hand going for his drink as he watched you try to mask whatever was going on in your mind. Mask how your body reacted to him time and time again.
"And what if it were me?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Would it be right if it were me?"
You weren't sure if you choked on your food or the air itself but you found yourself sputtering at his question. Air struggling to work its way into your lungs as you tried not to suffocate at his dining room table. There was no misinterpreting his words now. A clear question with a hint of an invitation barely hiding underneath. He simply smiled as he watched you. It would have been polite if you weren't sure that smile was born of your suffering. His long fingers curled around the stem of his wine glass, toying with it for a moment, before he brought it to his lips. An oddly elegant movement while you were as close to death as you could be.
"Are you alright?"
A question that you knew as less of an actual question and more of a tease by the way his lips quirked up.
"Just peachy!"
Words a touch too loud as you began to compose yourself. As you swallowed hard on nothing and caused your throat to burn. You could have sworn you heard the lightest chuckle as you grabbed your wine in an attempt to wash away the embarrassment.
He didn't tease you after that. No picking up where he left off. A mercy given your brush with death but you knew from how he looked at you that he thought about it. No, it was just pleasantries as you ate. Small little things that you knew you would forget come morning. Hell, you'd likely forget it the second you got home tonight. 'How's work been?'. 'Any troublesome kids?'. 'How's the car?'. Basic things you didn't have to use your brain for beyond a quick acknowledgement that it was said at all. Things that weren't a danger to your health even if you were sure that he was.
Even if his words were no longer a distraction meant to take you out at any moment, his damn legs took their place. Occasional brushes against yours here and there that you thought must have been unintentional. At least, at first. But then you felt it almost purposefully in the bouts of silence between you. His body didn't seem to move from what you saw above the table yet his legs spoke of a restlessness or a desire to chip away at your will that those gray eyes and that mask of a smile hid away. You hated it, in part, and wished those damn legs could find space of their own.
You suppose that was how it started. A singular spiteful thought that had your legs brushing against his with a touch more purpose. A knee brushing against his in a slow motion you hoped caused him as much distress as he was causing you. For a moment, you assumed victory. His body stilled and the conversation went dead for a moment before he picked it up again. He was talking about dealing with some parent this week. You weren't really listening. Not because you didn't want to but because you had plans of your own. Your leg brushing against his again. A light drag as you nodded your head along with his story.
Something about the way he narrowed his eyes had you thinking he didn't believe that innocent little nod. Or maybe it was the way he cleared his throat and pressed back with his leg. Only this time you felt it drag along yours in a similar way. He shifted in his chair and you felt his leg vanish beneath the table only to feel it a moment later. He pressed his knee against yours as if trying to force you to lose ground and retreat but you were stubborn. You refused to back down.
But he didn't want you to back down. He didn't want you to move or retreat or do anything as silly as that. No, he wanted to apply just the right amount of pressure to part your knees and slide between. Your thighs pressing together as the smallest little squeak left your lips. He stopped mid story to cock his head and look at you as if he was the most innocent man in the world. Innocent as a little bunny.
"Are you alright?"
You were getting tired of him asking that when he was the reason you were anything but.
"Perfectly fine. Just.. swallowed my wine wrong."
You don't know why you were playing coy with it all. Why he was too. You were two adults alone yet you found yourself giving in to whatever this was. He nodded again, understanding at your inability to handle foods, before he continued where he left off. You knew he was talking about something that you should have been listening to. Something that was probably important to work or, at least, something that was polite to hear. Yet you couldn't focus on it as you felt his leg begin to move.
It was no where near anywhere scandalous but that didn't mean it was an innocent movement. That each bounce of his 'anxious' leg didn't cause a pleasant little vibration to move through your leg. At first you could ignore it. It was just a brush. Just a little caress if anything. But then he had more stamina in this game than you did. More drive to press and press and press and you found your heart picking up pace and your legs attempting to close to get away from it all.
You shifted in your seat, lifting yourself up slightly to pretend to fix your dress, after all you were a lady, but you found yourself coming back down onto the harsh wood as your seat crashed into the backs of your legs. Did he just pull your chair closer to the table? Or was that you? His confused look stained with his attempt at worry gave nothing away.
"Maybe you should go a bit lighter on the wine."
You had hardly touched the stuff but maybe he was right. If you couldn't tell what was you and what was him maybe you were relying on whatever courage it gave you a touch too much. So you nodded at him rather simply. Not that he had given you something else to drink. Your lips parted as you started to ask when another squeak left your lips.
It was him, you were sure of it now.
His knee no longer teasingly brushing against your thigh but now far higher up. You could feel it drag the material of your dress higher and higher by the moment and you had to fight the instinct to instantly force it back down. Your fingers only tightened around utensils you had long since stopped using. A feeble attempt to take your mind off the sudden chill you felt as more and more heated flesh was revealed. But you knew that was the least of your troubles. That damn knee coming far too close to where it shouldn't be before pausing. Mr. Afton's eyes flicked to you in that moment. All talk of work dying on his lips if he even was still talking. You couldn't even rightfully say.
"You know, you're my favorite employee. Always getting things done on time. Always being so polite. Holding things together when others would crack and break."
His knee emphasized his point. The fabric of his slacks finally connecting with the warmth between your legs. Your thighs couldn't help but come together to squeeze at his. You weren't sure if you wanted to stop him or if you wanted more. But then, you didn't need to be sure because he sure as hell was. He only waited for the briefest moment before he started the slow, near agonizing, trail up and down. A small bounce of his leg that made your stomach clench in the best of ways.
"Though I do feel like you could work on your listening. You seem easily distracted."
A more enthusiastic bounce that had you twitching away. It was your only reprieve. A brief moment of calm before he picked right back up where he left off the moment you had settled back in place. His knee grinding against you in a way you wished was his hand. It was a dangerous thought and you knew that this was going far too quickly yet you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to stop. Not when he was moving his leg like that.
"You get such a pretty look on your face when you're distracted."
Another agonizing press against you. You could feel the moisture causing the fabric of you panties to cling to you in ways that should be shameful. You didn't care. You only briefly thought of the sight of his knee with a matching patch and that thought caused your cheeks to heat and your hips to unconsciously move forward. You felt yourself grind against his knee, a small sound leaving your lips only causing his to spread into such a wide smile you swore you were going to break him. Or maybe he was going to break you.
Without warning, his knee left and with it went the warmth it provided and more. You couldn't help but look up at him with such betrayal in your eyes. Every inch of your body wanting just a bit more. Even if it was pathetic or far too easy you wanted him to do it all over again. But maybe that's why he stopped. Maybe it wasn't fun anymore now that you wanted it so desperately.
In which William picks you up for a dinner at his place.
General Fic Warnings and Tags: William Afton/Reader/Michael Afton (eventually), eventual smut, adultery, alcoholism, dubious consent, drug use, consensual non-consent, body writing, pet play, assault, gore, murder and kidnapping [Most currently not in the fic but a heads up feels right]
The flow of time had never felt as agonizingly slow as it did tonight. You could have sworn that the hands on the clock had moved at some point or another only to blink and find all progress completely reset. It was like a sick form of purgatory for you and you alone that you doubted you could ever truly escape. It was a fate reserved only for supervillians plastered on the front of colorful comic covers and sci-fi books of questionable quality. You weren't sure when you became some greater being's form of entertainment but you wished they could find someone else to torment if not just for a few hours.
Or maybe this dinner was the torment itself.
You looked in the mirror in your tiny little bathroom one last time to make sure every aspect of your appearance was acceptable. It wasn't, at least not to you right now, but then you had plenty of time to work yourself into an indecisive pit. To anyone else, you looked the part. You looked like you were going out for a nice dinner somewhere and were dressed to impress but to you you looked like someone else. Like a kid dressed up in their mother's clothing attempting to play house. You knew you didn't look terrible, deep down at least, but a small voice in the back of your head laughed at your attempts to be anything but that girl at the prize counter.
But then how could Mr. Afton see you as anything but.
Not that you fully knew if you wanted him to see you as anything but though your current indecision showed an interest you weren't entirely certain you wanted to admit.
There was nothing wrong in admitting that Mr. Afton was attractive. Nothing wrong in thinking he was charming or that his smile was nice when he actually did choose to smile. Sure, it was more than a little questionable given his status and you knew that if you still spoke to your parents they would disown you in an instant for pursuing a much older man but none of that really mattered when he could make your head spin from just a few simple words.
It was the one trait that Michael didn't seem to inherit. Not that Michael didn't make you flustered in his own way. It was just.. different.
You made your way to the living room for what could have been the fiftieth time almost as if doing so would summon an Afton to your door. It didn't, at least not yet, and you were left looking at the damn clock again. Two minutes. It had been two minutes. Now you were certain that some sort of God was looking down from on high just to enjoy your own personal purgatory. You were pretty certain you hadn't kicked a puppy in your lifetime but surely you must have in some previous life. A few based off of how eternal this loop seemed to be.
You were in the middle of dramatically painting a mental portrait of a previous far more villainous version of you, if not just to chase away the anxiety that built more and more with every moment, when a knock made your heart nearly burst from your chest. It was funny how in a moment you could go from anxiously awaiting his arrival to suddenly regretting ever wanting to go out. You weren't sure if there was an actual shake in your hands of if you were just convincing yourself there was with each thump of your heart but you knew that it felt like you were only half your strength when you gripped the doorknob. At least it felt like that but the near over enthusiastic swing of the door as it opened tipped you off that it was just another illusion. A far more embarrassing one even.
If he noticed your sudden enthusiastic movement he didn't comment. He only smiled down at you in a way that made something in your stomach churn pleasantly and the corners of his eyes to crinkle in a way that made you nearly sigh. Time wasn't necessarily overly cruel to Mr. Afton, if anything it was rather kind, but the way those stormy eyes of his looked in moments like these reminded you of all the years that had passed that you could only barely comprehend. You decided rather instantly that you you didn't truly care. That if anything the touches of wrinkles on his face and the grays that streaked the hair at his temple simply aged him like a fine wine.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting. There was a small incident at the pizzeria."
"Oh."
A stupid word you felt leaving your mouth far more often than it should. Far too often when he was standing in front of you.
"Do you need to cancel or..?"
"Oh, no. Not at all. It was just a small incident involving an entitled brat and an irate mother. They seem to not understand that the animatronics are on a schedule and not to be activated for one single child's enjoyment. A shame too. Thought the two were far more well behaved than that."
"Should you really be calling someone a brat, Mr. Afton? What if someone hears?"
Not that you were actually scolding the man. Your voice was more joking than anything though it held an awkwardness to it that was never there when you would tease Michael. It was still so new with Mr. Afton. Unfamiliar even. For a moment, you feared that what tease your comment held went over his head as his steely eyes turned towards you with a new found coldness yet after a beat you found a bit of the warmth from moments ago returning. If one could even count that look he was giving you as warm. His lips quirked a little the start of a smile tempting his lips to spread into something equally as teasing before he shook his head.
"Why? Are you planning on telling all the parents that I secretly despise their children? Please, most of them already assume I'm some hermit that hates children anyway. Besides, someone hearing that is the least of my concerns at the moment."
"And what's your biggest concern?"
Another touch of a tease leaking into your tone causing something in his stare to harden ever so slightly. Either a flash of annoyance or something far more dangerous that you couldn't truly name barely settling on his face. Eyes narrowing ever so slightly before it was gone to be replaced by a smile that made the hairs on your arms stand on end.
"The brat in front of me."
You knew it was a tease. Logically it was a simple returned gesture but on his lips it felt different. Where Michael would make things feel light and so easy with his words Mr. Afton made things feel strangely heavy. Strangely intimate. Something far too close to flirting.
To your credit, there was no stammered 'oh' or awkward mutterings spilling from your lips. There was just a stare that said more than you knew you should ever let on. A flustered air lingering around you as you tried to give him a pleasant smile that didn't give away how much your mind was over analyzing such a simple set of words. Unfortunately, you had a bad feeling he knew. Something about the way that his smile only seemed to grow and how his back seemed to straighten just a touch more told you he knew what was going through your head and beyond. Worst of all, he enjoyed it.
A hand of his rose up to run through his hair. Any other time you would almost see the gesture as comical. As some sort of suave move one would only pull in the soap operas Michael was so fond of. Yet with him it was oddly flustering. Maybe it was the way he looked at you as he did it. It was like he knew those damn eyes of his haunted you when he wasn't around. Or how the right words could repeat in your head over and over again.
"Now, shall we get going or would you prefer we have dinner in your hallway?"
"Right! Dinner."
You scurried out of your door, just barely remembering the keys so you could actually lock up behind you. Hell, you almost forgot the lights on and had to quickly reach back to flick them off before the door nearly shut on your arm. Everything about your movements was rushed and bordering on panicked yet he said nothing as you stepped fully into the hall and far too close to him. His chest an unmoving barrier as he stared down at you. You thought he would have moved, stepped back to give you some space at least, yet he just watched with amusement clear in his eyes. You had trapped yourself really. Stuck between the immovable rock that was your boss and the door to your own apartment. A mistake on your part to be sure yet a part of you didn't mind it all that much as the scent of his cologne became all too familiar. No boozy undertone this time, you noted. Only a scent you think was aftershave lingered beneath the expensive scent to mix with the tinge of oil and metal that always clung to him.
Before you could speak, or really act, you felt that now too familiar pressure of his hand against your back as he guided the two of you into steps you had taken just a week before. The silence was becoming something of a saving grace as you walked. At least it stopped you from saying something stupid or from bumbling out sounds that could have been words as he stuck so close to your side. Too close, maybe, but it felt almost protective. His body stopping you from thinking of much beyond him. It blocked out the world if not just for a moment and gave you time to bring your mind out of the clouds and square in to reality.
You hoped no one saw the two of you. That all your neighbors were busy with their own lives so they wouldn't see the way he kept you so close. Your eyes even flicked over to the little old lady's door as you passed. You hoped she wasn't looking out to see just who was passing by. You hoped your secret, if you could even call him that, would stay that way. It was safe when he was just a secret. When this was a simple dinner between two lonely people and not something else.
But was it really that safe? And was this really all there was to it?
You wanted to scold yourself for getting into his car a second time. For completely forgetting the awkward tension that lingered in the air the last time you were yet you couldn't bother even gathering the mental energy to do so. Not when he helped you so politely into the car and brought himself close enough to feel his breath graze against your cheek as you got inside. It was his politeness that distracted you. It had to be. For Michael's sake and yours.
"You look lovely. You'll have to excuse my lack of effort in comparison. I'm… still not really used to all of this."
"Thank you. You were finishing up your shift so I wasn't expecting anything formal. You look good."
He always did in that weird way that only he could manage. He was handsome but in a way that made you internally debate the fact when first meeting him. A shared experience with most people strangely enough. It was like there was something about him that was just off. Like beneath that handsome face of his there was something that just didn't match.
"I look like tired old man. I'm too old for this sort of thing."
You watched as he shifted slightly in his seat. The movements of starting the car itself were practiced and easy yet there was something about his composure that seemed to crack. That let a hint of something as close to nerves as could be seen on a man like him surface. Maybe deep down he was just as nervous as you.
"What, having dinner?"
"Going on a date."
His correction was instant and made you feel like you were dumped in the middle of a desert. Heat instantly sunk into your cheeks and chest and made you feel almost dizzy with the reality it brought with it. This wasn't just you misreading the situation or thinking that there was something far different going on than there really was. This was the truth of what was happening between the two of you.
A date.
He could face that fact so easily, say it like there was nothing strange about it, while you were still struggling to grasp the concept fully. You could blame it on getting closer to Michael or not having dated in a while but the truth of it was you couldn't really grasp being on a date with him. How the man that people feared as an intimidating and wrathful boss could be anxious and near sweet as you sat in a comfortable silence. How he gave you such warm smiles in comparison to what everyone else saw so often.
"Unless… this is just dinner?"
Your hesitation and fluster must have been obvious. Perhaps the silence less than comfortable for the man in question as you caught his gaze flicking over to you from the corner of your eye. You hadn't meant for it to seem like a rejection but was it really a good idea to encourage this? To continue when you were just starting to develop something you couldn't really put a finger on with his son? You didn't know what to say. If you should just nod and smile or say something more. Your eyes met William's for the briefest moment, ice staring straight into your soul, and in that moment you couldn't fully bring yourself to care. What Michael didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Not when even you didn't fully know what this was.
"I'm not sure."
You could see a flicker of hesitation in his eyes as if you had just said the last thing he wanted to hear and you couldn't help but straighten up ever so slightly. Words coming out stuttered yet instant as the seatbelt dug uncomfortably into your chest.
"But I'm willing to see where it goes."
There was no response from him at first and you didn't know if you had ruined it all before it even began. It was one thing to have Michael threaten, at times, to toss you out of the car but now there was a very real possibility that you would be forced to walk home all dressed up after letting the indecisiveness in your soul ruin something before it could even try to take root. But then he gave a small hum, almost a sound of thought, before he nodded. You hoped both were good signs. You hoped that he was satisfied enough with your answer that the night wouldn't become an awkward mess.
"Fair enough."
Silence fell between the two of you, one that you couldn't fully decide the feeling of, as his words settled. Your mind couldn't but race in all the worst ways. Over-analysis of how much you truly fucked up paired with hopeful glimpses of ways you could salvage this all, if you even wanted to. You did, you think. You weren't stupid enough to ignore how his hands on you made you feel even if the touch was something so fleeting. Each time his hands came to rest on your body you could feel it linger far after his touch was gone.
You couldn't bring yourself to say anything more. Too afraid that you would ruin whatever thin connection there was, if there even was one. Paranoia of social missteps becoming the ruling body over each of your choices, even just for the moment, causing you to shift in your seat when the car hesitated for just a bit too long at a stop sign. Your eyes had long since shifted to the outside though you could see his own darting over to you every now and then as if he longed to say something. Though what, you couldn't really tell. You pretended not to notice, eyes glued to each thing you passed.
The Afton household wasn't what you had initially expected. Somehow you thought it would be in the middle of a nowhere. A gloomy place to suit the two most temperamental men that you knew. Maybe someplace in the middle of a forest… If Hurricane even had those. You doubted there was much greenery other than the sagebrush that littered the horizon like an unfortunate breakout on a teen before prom night. Yet what you actually got was more… normal you suppose.
Their home was on the outskirts of the town, just on the outer rim of what was developed. The last on a street that ended in a small cul-de-sac. There were no toys or basketball hoops that littered the sidewalk, though you were envious that he even had a sidewalk as it was another luxury you were never afforded as a child, but there was proof of so much life in the houses around his that it seemed almost wrong. Fake in a way. How could someone that seemed so gloomy be surrounded by such stereotypical homes. A white picket fence and perfectly trimmed hedges greeting you like you had just walked into a cozy sitcom. Even the paint seemed too perfect, at least on the Afton family home. It felt more like a set than an actual home. Something detached despite the cheery exterior. It was too perfect. Too well put together. There were no paths worn into dirt over time and years of play or overgrown grass just itching to be mowed. An oddity when you thought about it for too long. You couldn't see Mr. Afton doing it himself and you doubted that Michael ever would. There were no bikes leaning against the house or signs that it was anything other than a model.
It felt almost oppressive in the normality of it all.
The garage door began to lift with a loud whirring sound as he clicked a button on a chunky control. Where he got the remote from you didn't know but the moment that the door opened enough to let you see inside all thoughts of that mystery vanished. The fading light from the evening filtered in and made your heart stop as the now familiar sight of Michael's car made every warning alarm in your body start to scream. He wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't part of the plan. Your eyes frantically darted from that car to William far faster than you could fully process. Your lips even parting to let out what you knew would be a high pitched series of panicked words only to stop. Your teeth clicked closed as you watched Mr. Afton roll his eyes almost like he was annoyed with the brief flash of panic.
"He's not here. He dropped off his car before heading out, I assume. His bike isn't outside so unless someone did us the favor of stealing it, he's taken that out for whatever mistakes he's going to be making."
"His bike?"
The thought of Michael going out to a night of wild partying on a fire engine red bike with a little tiny bell and basket crossed your mind and you couldn't stop a stupid little smile from crossing your lips. You knew it probably wasn't that but until you saw it with your own eyes you were now mentally insistent that was the truth.
"His motorcycle."
Oh. Yeah, that made more sense.
"I didn't know he had one."
William made a sound in his throat that was somewhere between disgust and confirmation as the car slowed next to Michael's. You hesitated, politely waiting for him to remove the keys, before you began to get out. The click of your seatbelt being greeted by the smooth tone of his voice yet again.
"Unfortunately. Henry gave it to him one year as a present much to his mother's endless distress. Boy's too reckless to be on something like that."
You made a mental note to tease Michael about being gifted a motorcycle and likely a car as well. You had jokingly called the Aftons rich back at the bar but you honestly were feeling that more and more with every new revelation about them. Automatic doors, multiple cars, multistory house. All the telltale signs of someone far more well off than you and that was even before you took in just what sort of cars and just how Mr. Afton dressed.
You got out of the car with the most careful movements you could muster. Each move delicate as to not harm Michael's ride as nerves bubbled up once again. They would settle now and then but then reality would kick in again and have you questioning your actions. Even now as you hung behind to allow him to lead the way before following behind there was a part of you that thought this was a terrible idea. That screamed you would just fuck something up. You hated that voice with a passion.
The garage door began to close with another loud squeal as his hand settled on the doorknob. His steps only pausing as he looked back to make sure you were trailing behind. You didn't even have time to truly take it all in, to look at your surroundings as more than just a simple garage, before you found yourself in the hallway. A part of you felt like you should have taken off your shoes, even if they were new. The plush white of the carpet staring at you like a warning sign and promising that any little slip up would be permanent.
His back blocked most of your view of the hall leaving you with only the wooden walls for solid company. They were more sparse than one would think a family home would be. Pictures that could have lined them were either gone or never existed save for a handful above a single hall table. The thing was decorated with books and knickknacks you had no doubt hadn't been touched in ages if ever, things for display and display alone, as shadows of the past hung above it in a small cluster. Three happy children smiled out from one, a red head that you vaguely feel like you recognized smiling so hard you feared her face would break as her brothers flanked her. One looked shy and the other, who you had a feeling you knew, looked annoyed that he had to stand still for five seconds. Then there were pictures of them separate. Nice and properly posed, probably school pictures. Michael with his hair slicked back and a frown on his face. You'd tease him about it if it was possible to do so without confessing your sins.
But it was the last two that made you pause. One of a mildly older and pudgier Michael standing with a woman. Her hair a bright golden color as it blew through the wind. It was a happy scene, a moment of genuine joy caught in a flash, yet there was something that felt off about it. Maybe it was the fact that Michael had likely managed to lose weight so quickly. He couldn't have been much older now than he was in that picture. You had to physically stop to look at it. Eyes lingering for a moment. But still, there was something off. Something about the faded color of it that made it seem almost unreal. How his eyes seemed to be so much lighter. Gray instead of baby blue. It took you an embarrassing amount of time to realize that the the picture wasn't faded.
"William?" His name left your lips before you could stop it as you squinted. Your face getting a touch too close to the picture as if that would somehow solve it all.
In truth, it did. Closer you could see that his skin was far lighter than Michael's, his hair far darker and his eyes that same steely gray you had become so accustomed to. More than that his hair wasn't as curly. It was there somewhat but no where near Michael's. More waves than anything and they were tamed beyond what Michael likely ever would put in the energy for. They were almost mirrors. Sure, you could see the resemblance, anyone could, as is but seeing them closer in age was almost uncanny. Sure there were some obvious differences but if you looked too quickly at the thing you could have sworn it was him.
But words cut through your confusion as the scent of cologne filled your senses once more.
"Yes?"
"Fuck!"
You couldn't help but jump and you knew that even without looking at him he was smiling down at you. That small little smile that made you feel as if you were just a pawn in some game you weren't aware of. An amusing little thing to watch instead of a person. It made chills run down your spine. Feeling his breath against your skin only made it worse as he pressed close to inspect exactly what you were looking at. You felt closed in all the same as his body came so close. As your senses were flooded with nothing but him.
But he didn't acknowledge your scare. At least, not verbally. He simply reached a hand forward to tap on the frame ever so slightly.
"I should really take this one down. It's… unflattering."
"That's you?"
You wanted to ask more but it was hard when you were trying not to focus on how boxed in you were. It was strange how he could go from cold and detached to far too close in the blink of the eye. Always as silent as the grave.
"Unfortunately."
"And the woman?"
There was a touch of silence before he spoke. The sound far more annoyed than you thought it would be. Like you had just asked about his least favorite topic in the world. Maybe you had.
"My wife."
Ah.
You had a strong feeling that he wasn't thinking the picture was unflattering in the ways one normally would when scrutinizing their past appearance but that she was the real blemish in the frame. She was dainty looking. Conventionally pretty with a perfect smile that lit up the entire frame. It reminded you of Michael in some ways, at least the happiness did. Michael may be an exact copy of his father in looks but something told you that his cheer more came from his mother than father.
You wanted to say something. You wanted to tell him that the picture wasn't a bad one or use it as a way to pry about the mystery wife he had lost, at least he had according to the gossip around work but in what way you didn't know, but before anything else could leave your lips you felt that damn hand on your back again. Light pressure guiding you to turn towards the hall.
"Now, we could spend the night looking at my mistakes or we can have food and I would very much prefer the later."
"Right, sorry."
He smiled at you, a light little thing, before he started forward again. This time, he refused to leave your side. The hallway was decently sized but not enough for two people to walk comfortably with space. No, his closeness made you lean into him. It made you break the bubble that had formed to press close to his body. His own hand moving from your back to rest on your side, his thumb lightly tracing circles through your dress, as your shoulder brushed against him. A paranoid part of you insisted it was to keep you from prying more but to be honest you didn't care about his motivations. Your head was too busy swimming from that intimate little touch on your side to care. Even more so when it sink lower and lower to grab at your hip. It was the lightest little squeeze but it was one that made your head snap up to him in an instant.
He didn't acknowledge the movement at all in his expression. It was like it was nothing but a twitch before the touch was gone as he guided you into a room. He let his hand drag across your body as he disengaged, a trail against your back that felt warmer than it should, as he moved properly into the kitchen. There was more space here in the linoleum tiled normality of it all yet you still felt the ghost of him pressed against your side. You partly wondered if you were red or if it was just in your head. You hoped it was as you stepped forward.
He was already heading towards the fridge as he began to take off his coat. You had never noticed how nice his back looked. The movement causing muscle beneath flesh to go taught as he shrugged the layer off before tossing it to the side. There was something about seeing the expanse of his back, even through fabric, that made you want to run your hands across it. It was a stupid thought but one that kept playing over and over in your head. It only becoming worse as a small unwanted voice piped up in the background.
It would look even better with your nails raking across it.
It's time to prepare for dinner. If only you could get your nerves to calm down for five minutes.
General Fic Warnings and Tags: William Afton/Reader/Michael Afton (eventually), eventual smut, adultery, alcoholism, dubious consent, drug use, consensual non-consent, body writing, pet play, assault, gore, murder and kidnapping [Most currently not in the fic but a heads up feels right]
Days off usually were things of comfortable nothingness, of spending hours on the sofa or, if you were feeling in the mood for it, a casual walk down the street to get overpriced coffee, but today felt different. It felt more like that uncomfortable night before an important assignment was due with not a word of it actually finished. Part guilt, part panic, and part of you screaming at yourself just knowing you could have done something different to not end up in this situation. You knew you shouldn't feel this way, that there was nothing you could do to make Michael feel comfortable enough to share with you, but that little bit of logic didn't make you feel any better.
A part of you even wanted to show up to work with some sort of bagged lunch or something stupid as a way to make that smile of his just a little more sincere but you knew that was a silly offer. Especially when you weren't even sure what he enjoyed eating. Cheeseburgers? You could show up with that, maybe? But would it be weird? Probably. Plus, he was friends with the other security guard so who knows if they were going to have lunch together or when Michael's lunch even was. It would be more of a bother than a kind gesture potentially. And, to be honest, you would rather not step foot in Freddy's when you didn't have to.
You cared about the guy plenty but you don't think you were entirely at ‘ruin your entire day by going to work on a day off to see him’ levels of friendship. Even if it might put a smile on his face.
Though that thought was what made you hesitate more than it should. Seeing a genuine smile instead of the last thing you saw.
It was tempting. So much so that you were half motivated, by curiosity and nothing else of course, to try it if not just to see how long of a walk it would end up being but in the end you decided against it. If Michael needed time, he needed time. This wasn't something that would be helped along by bumbling attempts at cheering him up with cheeseburgers that would probably be cold by the time you walked to work.
Besides, your evening was already booked.
Beyond the emotional hell that Michael was both suffering through and spreading to you there was the all too real panic that slowly was beginning to set in more and more. It wasn't the sort that would make your heart feel like it was in a vice and your breaths to come in short labored pants but the sort of panic that came with a terrible decision whose consequences were right on the horizon. It was like cheating on a test, getting caught and being told that you would talk later. Nothing good could possibly come of it and nothing good, especially, could come from the particular brand of horrors awaiting you.
It was just a dinner. A simple dinner. Nothing bigger, nothing smaller. Yet why did the thought of it make your stomach churn from a strange mixture of guilt and excitement? Guilt because you knew Michael would never look at you the same if he found out, even if the meetings so far with his father had been more on the innocent side than anything, and excitement because you couldn't deny how you felt when he called you a good girl.
Sometimes, when you were alone, it echoed in your head like some forbidden siren song. It was something you both wanted to hear over and over again yet that you wished you had never heard at all. Because now that you had it was like a terrible infection that would never truly leave you. A parasite that had wormed its way into your very soul.
You could almost feel his hand on your back and the smell of cigarette smoke when you played back the moments in your head.
The smart thing to do would be to end it all before it even began. To tell him that it wasn't appropriate for the two of you to have dinner let alone do so at his place. You couldn't give him his money back right away, you needed it and you weren't dumb or stubborn enough to say that you didn't, but you could pay him back in time. Treat it like a loan more than a payment. Those were all the smart choices. The thing that anyone should be doing in a situation like yours.
But you weren't really the logical sort.
Not when it came to them.
You guess that's why despite the rocky morning and the part of your head screaming at you to not do any of this, you found yourself heading out on a nice little walk. Your little dinner was the day after tomorrow and you lacked anything that really screamed dinner date. You could deny what this was. You could say that it was just a small meal at a friends all you wanted to but there was the constant reminder of the way he spoke to you and the way he touched you when he thought no one was looking. You were anxious, not an idiot. You understood what being called good girl several times by an older man meant. And, well, if you somehow misread the situation and were genuinely wrong about this all them that was a future conversation you had to have with yourself. Likely a long one involving a large amount of ice cream and alcohol.
But for now, either out of a speck of genuinely good or horrendous judgment, you found yourself walking down the street to the small little clothing store you saw day after day. It wasn't really your style but where else would you go? Hurricane didn't really have a mall and if you wanted to actually go shopping elsewhere that would require asking Michael to give you a ride or calling a cab. One of which you didn't want to awkwardly explain away a shopping trip and the other you weren't even sure existed in Hurricane. That was one of the things you always hated about smaller towns. Unless you had a car you were absolutely fucked when it came to roaming around. Sure, things were close enough so you could actually walk, at least close to town, but beyond that it was like being stranded in the middle of nowhere with not even a lifeline to tie you back to civilization.
At least the day after whatever this was with Mr. Afton you would finally have your mobility back. Gone would be the days of waking up far too early just to make it to Freddy's on time. Though you never really had to do that anymore these days with Michael offering a ride. You had to admit that you would miss that. Maybe if you were nice and tried to mimic those puppy dog eyes of his he would still let you ride along in the mornings. You could argue that it was a way to save gas even. You were poor, after all, and if you were going to eventually pay back Mr. Afton you needed that money. If you were going to that is. You had a feeling the man wouldn't take your money even if you tried to return it.
He was as stubborn as his son if not more so.
Maybe that was part of the appeal of them. They were stubborn to the point of frustration and more attractive than either of them had any right to be. Way more than you thought some random pizzeria owner and his son would be in the middle of nowhere. It honestly made you feel as if fate, destiny or whatever power there was that looked in on you every now and then decided to grace you with a touch of something good. Even despite the frustration, confusion and general disorder they brought into your life.
It wasn't long to the store you saw. It was a simple little thing that brought out a used mannequin to the curb every now and then to show off the latest fashion they got in. It never was anything close to the trendy things you could see in cities or even bigger towns. It always looked dated and a touch too modest. It bordered on puritanical at times but you just assumed that was some weird unspoken agreement with overly judgemental mothers or little old ladies. According to Jessica, some moms around here were a touch over protective and you could see them getting annoyed at even a hunk of plastic and wood showing a bit too much shoulder. They sure yelled at Jessica enough for her clothing choices as it was from what you heard. You didn't doubt that a little clothing store would give in to their bizarre desires.
You suppose that's why you were so disappointed when the interior matched the what little peak you saw from the outside. A woman that seemed around your age stood behind the counter along with a few others that were restocking and doing all that you normally would expect from a store yet there was something about the vibe that was just off. Clothes a bit too modest for you liking with a less than formfitting style. In fact, some you might say were trying to be anything but. They seemed comfortable, at least. A part of you would be tempted to pick something up if the event wasn't something so intimate. Not that you were trying to dress especially provocative or anything but you thought that you may as well go into whatever this night entailed feeling good about yourself. A sort of fake it until you make it mentality by pretending to have the confidence to endure it all. Sure, you could maybe do it in one of these with the power of comfort but it wasn't the exact thing that you were looking for.
Besides that, the women in the store had gotten eerily silent. You could tell that they were watching you, tracking your movements through the place like they were afraid that you were about to steal everything they owned. It was an uneasy feeling that made you feel more like an outcast than you ever had before. Barely disguised judgment clear in each and every glance made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin and worry that somehow you had walked out of your apartment only half dressed. Hell, you had to look down at yourself just to check. Pants, check. Shirt, check. Jacket, check. You even had shoes on! Really a complete ensemble. Then why did they look at you as if you were offending their very existence with what you wore?
Every moment you spend in there was torn between a feeling of paralysis like you were afraid that any movement would have them swarming you like you were some unwanted bug that they were bound to squish or running out of the place screaming. You ended up settling on something similar to the last though in a much more silent fashion with the screaming only confined to inside of your head. Even heading out of the door you could feel their eyes on you and you had to force yourself not to book it as far away as possible. Instead, you decided to just duck into the store next door. You hoped they weren't connected. You really didn't check the inside of the shop to determine if they were or not and you genuinely didn't think you could handle five more minutes in judgemental hell.
But this place seemed normal.
Another store with clothes that seemed modest but this seemed to have a mixture of styles and fashions along with home goods and kids toys. A thrift store, you think. Thank god. You could work with a thrift store. You could find something better than what you had, at least. You just hoped that at least one person with some sense of fashion that was at least on the same continent at yours stopped in this place at some point in time. You would even take a single shirt if you could. Anything.
The first store made you step forward with reluctance towards the racks. A part of you fearing the same judgemental gaze and feeling of being a complete stranger. You think you would be used to that after all this time away from home yet it felt just as powerful every time. It made you want to hide away from the world and go back to your little hovel. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to be one of those people that just didn't care. Someone like Michael. Or, rather, someone like Michael pretended to be.
The clothes here, on closer inspection, were far better than you were expecting. That or someone in town had a particularly good taste for fashion and regularly swapped out their closet. A boon for you though a rather wasteful way to live one's life. You weren't going to complain though and you began to pull a few hangers out to look at some of them more carefully. Dresses, shirts, skirts. More choice than you thought you would have to deal with but at least there was choice. They were a little too bold in color, neons that you weren't entirely sure of, but hey nothing said date night like something outrageous… right?
God, you weren't good at this.
Your eyes were lingering on a dress that had far more fluff and ribbon than you ever thought a dress could have when a familiar voice made you jump.
"That's a really ugly color."
Your eyes shot down in an instant. A bored Joshua looking up at you like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to appear out of thin air. It was one thing for him to show up every five minutes while you were at work, that was expected. But seeing him out in the wild? There was something that felt deeply off about it. Like seeing a teacher actually having a life outside of school. It was just… wrong.
"They actually let you out of the pizzeria?" It seemed the thought went both ways.
"For a few minutes each day. I'm on my daily walk right now actually."
"Well don't pick that one. It's ugly."
He wasn't wrong but it still felt like a part of you should be outraged by his bold declaration. Then again, when had he had any filter?
"Well, then which one would you pick?"
He just stared at you for a moment and you wondered briefly if he was just going to shrug and grab whatever he touched first from the rack but to your surprise he did turn to genuinely inspect. Small hands parting hangers to look thoughtfully at colors and patterns though his face never stopped being that same bored expression you were far too used to. You could take a very educated guess that he'd been here for a while if that look had morphed to be the only one he could express. That tended to happen when his parents left him places. Though maybe this was a rare case of him being here with one of them. His parents were neglectful but not leave at a thrift store levels. Well… you hoped.
"What are you doing?"
"Huh?"
"Where are you going to be going?" He rephrased it, speaking each word slowly like you were an idiot. You weren't. It was just weird to experience the combination of thoughtful browsing and genuinely helpful questions. It was like you had a tiny little stylist with you.
"Dinner."
"With?"
"None of your business."
He paused in his movements. Eyes looking over you almost judgmentally if he even could be. You were getting a lot of that this morning though his seemed more teasing in a way. The judgment only a child could hold. The kind that said he already had come up with some elaborate story about this night in his own head and was more sad that you weren't indulging his bored fantasies than anything.
"Yourself. Got it."
"With a person."
"It's okay, you can admit no one wants to go places with you."
Sometimes there were moments where you started to feel a genuine kinship with the kid. Something almost like the feeling you would have towards a sibling or even sometimes something maternal. Right now? No, he was back to being that kid that handed you damp sidewalk tickets and who would intentionally smear chocolate on the prize counter display.
"With a friend. I'm going to dinner. With a friend."
"You're a little old for imaginary friends. Even I grew out of those."
You wanted to say something again, an annoyance gradually building in your chest, but then you saw his lips twitch and you knew he was hiding a smile. He was so bad at it that it nearly hurt but it made a touch of that annoyance drop as you remembered that 1. he was a child and 2. he was simply teasing. Yeah, maybe the thought of him as a sibling was more real than you cared to admit. Kid had all the energy and ability to annoy of a younger sibling scorned.
Still, after a moment of silence, he tugged a dress off its hanger and shoved it in your direction. You were partly expecting something gaudy and tacky beyond belief but the thing he put in your hands looked… good. It was more summery than you would have picked but it was a flowy dress in lilac that seemed like it wasn't even worn before. Hell, it still had the original tags. You guessed whoever got it did it on a whim without even trying it. A common mistake but one that you were going to happily benefit from.
"Purple is good. Blues alright too. Not yellow. Never brown." You feel like he was just listing animatronic colors at this point but you weren't going to say anything about it.
"This is… good. You pick out women's clothing a lot?" He shrugged.
"Mom has me pick sometimes."
Oh that was sweet.
"She gets drunk sometimes and can't bother picking herself."
Oh.
You had a feeling you made some sort of face. Not one of full disgust but concern at least plastered on for even the smallest moment as he gave you one of confusion in return. You hated moments like this. Moments that made you realize that people had lives outside of Freddy's. That the smiling faces you saw at work were just a small snippet into people's lives. They weren't the norm but, rather, an exception and there were far too many exceptions popping up lately. You wished you could go back to just the illusions of happiness they had instead of the reality checks that kept surfacing.
You opened your mouth, words of concern on the tip of your tongue, before they were silenced with a quick call of his name. He perked up instantly, running off without so much as a goodbye. Your eyes scanned the store in hopes of finding where he vanished to only to be met with the familiar stare of his mother. You had never spoken to her, not that you spoke to many parents, but sometimes you got the feeling that she thought you were below her. Now that feeling was amplified as her eyes narrowed in stark contrast to the smile on her painted lips. You didn't know how it was possible to hate someone you didn't know but you had a bad feeling that she very much felt that towards you. Or, at least, she did in this moment.
But Joshua didn't care. His eyes lit up the second he was by his mother's side and his look of boredom was erased in a matter of seconds. A favorite parent, clearly. Though, to be fair you never saw him and his father together. That could be part of the reason in itself now that you thought about it. At least she made him happy. The child, not the father. You suppose that was all one could ask for as an outside observer. At least she took him places. At least she seemed to care.
You gave her a small nod which she did not return as she led him towards the front of the store. Joshua turned at the last moment a happy wave sent your way in a flash of movement before he joined his mother outside. You didn't understand that kid. You felt like you never truly would but at least he had alright fashion choices.
You decided to just take his advice. You could look through the racks for hours but his choice seemed both sensible and surprisingly pretty. Plus, you knew that if you stayed here for too long you would just end up in the constant loop of indecision that going to a special event tended to cause. Special event. God you were treating this like it was some sort of grand outing. It was just dinner. With an older man. Who was your boss. Who called you g- Ok no more thinking of that. No loop. Just pay. Pay and go home.
You grabbed some shoes on your way to the register and some stockings to really complete it all. You hoped it would make you look a touch more mature but then you doubted that maturity was something Mr. Afton was actively looking for. If he was he would have asked someone his own age to dinner. You couldn't tell if that thought was a good one or a bad one and honestly you didn't want to think about it too much before the night in question. Though you had plenty of time for it to keep popping into your head unbidden.
Sure, getting the shopping all done as soon as possible was a great idea in theory but it let your mind roam for the remaining time off.
The rest of the first day wasn't too terrible. Worried thoughts of Michael mixing with only the rare thoughts of what was to come. Occasional reminders from the back of your mind of your change in shift as ordered by the very man you were going to be spending a meal with. But they weren't thoughts that turned your day off into a slog. They were just little things that came to mind between household chores you had put off for most of the week. Things that popped up between cycles at the wash and as you went through the repetitive movements of washing dishes.
It was the second day that was torture.
From the moment you woke up you felt that familiar feeling settle in the pit of your stomach as nervous electricity worked its way through your whole body. You knew you should worry as much as you were. This was technically the second time you would be going places with him but there was such a vast difference between a bar and the man's own home. And he was cooking. Cooking! Could he even cook? You'd surely find out. Did you want to even try to find out or should you have something small before going. Not anything that would make it impossible to eat if he did actually manage it but something small enough so if the man genuinely ended up almost burning his kitchen down your stomach wouldn't end up attempting to eat itself. If you even could eat. Would you be too nervous to eat something that he had spend time and effort making?
The thoughts were so much more chaotic on the second day. Worries that you knew you had no logical reason to think of were there at the forefront of your mind only occasionally being booted back by the reminder that it wasn't today. That you still had time. That every worry was just nerves. But the closer it got to night, the more nervous energy settled in your very soul. You didn't even know if you could sleep with the constant thoughts that rushed about yet somehow you know you did.
At least, you lost enough time to make you assume you did.
You woke up, briefly forgetting the schedule change, before that same nervous rush pushed you forward in a panic. It wasn't worth the effort to try and program your alarm to go off at a new time, you told yourself the night before. You woke up early enough on Tuesdays to easily make it into work without having to plan for the change. It was a good idea in theory but in practice the reality was far worse.
It was a reality of socks flung across the room as you looked for a matching pair in a panic. Of clothes you hoped were put on properly as you booked it out of the door with only an apple clutched in your hand for dear life. You had everything that you thought you needed, keys, money, wallet, but you were pretty sure that in the frenzy you grabbed more than you intended. Earrings meant to be worn tonight shoved into your pocket along with everything else as if you needed them for some reason. You were sure there were other curiosities you shoved in too but you didn't want to linger on the thought as you booked it out of your apartment.
No need for an alarm, you thought. You got up plenty early, you thought.
You also had to walk. Run, even. To Freddy's. Yeah you could probably have made it in time if you had a car. And you were too busy thinking of other things when Michael was at your place to ask him. You had decided, somewhere between the first and second stoplight that you passed, that there was something deeply wrong with you at times. That maybe you shouldn't let pretty blue eyes distract you. But then if you didn't, you wouldn't even be in this situation to begin with.
Your lungs burned and your legs felt like they would give out by the time you reached that familiar back door and you nearly slumped against it dead to the world but you made it. Others arriving to start their shifts looked at you in confusion as you let your body rest against the back bricks. You were not only there far too early for your normal shift but you looked as if you had been running from a serial killer and had barely managed to escape. A part of you was grateful that Hurricane was a less green town than most as you don't think you could handle the icing on the cake of being covered in leaves and branches from a run through trees and greenery. A small win for the middle of nowhere.
After catching your breath you headed inside.
You tried to ignore the questioning stares and one particularly intense set of eyes that seemed to look at you with a strange sort of satisfaction. You guess that he was anticipating the night more than you thought and that knowledge made something in you shiver in near delight. Or was it anxiety? You couldn't fully tell in your exhaustion. You just took your mind off of whatever it was with a mix of over productivity and half hearted stories of your car finally being near ready for pick up.
Those that were worried that you showed up at the wrong time and were bound to face the wrath of Mr. Afton were put at ease by your enthusiastic insistence that it should be ready tonight or maybe tomorrow morning and that you needed to be home so you could get the call. Those that knew you more closely were happy for you with the exception of one. One very specific person who stormed in closer to your actual shift time with concern written on that pretty face of his. Here you thought he needed time to himself yet he had clearly shown up at your door waiting to give you a ride only to be told that you had already headed out. He would get over it, you were sure of that, but it just made the guilt you felt for this evening amplify all the more. He knew you were lying. He knew that you were seeing a friend and didn't see the need for the cover up. It made him think there was something more. Made him push and press for information you would never share and in the end he sulked away looking like a dejected puppy more than anything.
You couldn't decide if the work day moved too slowly or far too quickly. Conversations you had not truly sticking in your head as each movement you made seemed heavier than normal. Each time you looked at the clock either showing only mere minutes had passed or that hours had jumped by in quick succession. You hated nervous anxiety. You were sure everyone hated it the same but you hated how it broke up your flow. How it made things seem like they were less real and closer to a play than you were comfortable with.
Even as you said your nervous goodbyes and stopped by the security office for a quick wave that wasn't returned, you felt that feeling clutch at your heart more and more. Each step feeling almost in time with your heart and reverberating through your very core as one single thought sprung to mind over and over again.
I have a question re Jessica's motivation that I need to speak, even if you can't answer it for spoilers. I was rereading chapter 21 earlier and I finally pieced together why her behaviour seemed so weird to me - is she in on William's game? Like has he in some way recruited her for information on our heroine, or even was he asking her to help him procure a nice submissive creature to play with and she was like 'oh actually one of my coworkers is innocent girly moved from the next state with no family, you could just scoop her up and keep her as a pet if she agrees '? Because I assumed before she was being a gossip plus having a crush on Michael but the timing etc just seems too suspiciously good.
(BTW I am a devoted AO3 reader which is why I don't interact with your posts much here.)
Yo, sorry it took a while to reply. Tumblr didn't even tell me I had an ask at all. Glad to see tumblr is still being tumblr.
William does seem to have extremely good timing when it comes to those two talking and it is intentional but it's less to do with Jessica actively setting anything up and more William understanding who will leave the room in an instant when he shows up and knowing when MC just happens to be taking a break. If she took breaks in more crowded areas or with other people he might not show up as often but he sees a chance to have a moment alone and takes it when he can. Plus, Jessica is creeped out enough by him and knows what he can do as an employer to actually listen if she's told to leave the room so even if she doesn't naturally leave she's the easiest to boss around since she still kinda needs the job. He's just a touch on the creepy side and also knows just when to act.
Also, thank you for reading!!
