Daddy Issues | William Afton × Reader

your hands, your lips

That night I was unable to sleep, returning to my post high school state. My poor-working brain was filled with various assumptions and thoughts which made me feel progressively worse as hours passed. I tried to distract myself with browsing stuff in the phone, but it didn't seem to help, on the contrary - it served as a constant reminder of the fact that I was forsaken again. My stomach was ready to turn inside out.

The only man I could count on was gone. And I would eagerly understand if Derek explained the motivation behind his act. Turned out, I was so meaningless he didn't say a word.

Maybe my emotions were too much? Perhaps I should have talked less about myself. I definitely should have given up on the idea of solving our problems from the very beginning. I have never been special to him. He didn't take my feelings into account. He never did.

I was told he liked me though. He found me appealing. He said I'm sexy.

If he doesn't want to fuck with difficulties, that's his problem.

I still deserve some respect at least.

My legs touched the floor, made a few slow steps and the room was left behind. The dark hallway met me with its coldness and lifeless appearance. The crystal silence made my ears hurt.

Moving downstairs, my arms grabbed the railings tightly in fear of falling. I walked through the living room, intending to visit the kitchen for a glass of water as the owner of the house certainly wouldn't mind me fulfilling a vital need. An odd sensation creeped up to me, as my thighs got covered in goosebumps.

It was cold. Way too cold.

My eyes fixed on the curtains to detect an open window. Unsuccessful, I cautiously proceeded to the main door with a great amount of curiosity.

A tall, dark frame was standing in the doorway. It was impossible to confuse William with anyone else. He was smoking, judging by a tiny amount of light coming from a cigarette wich was subtly held between his slender fingers.

Not making any noise, I approached the man. He didn't seem scared or surprised, he continued smoking, eyes fixed on the night sky. No words escaped me, I just stood motionlessly, leaning on the opposite doorjamp. Amazingly, it was slightly chilly outside, despite a huge amount of snow which seemed to be sparkling with silver on the unlit streets. The picture was stunning.

However, in a few minutes, I began to rub my upper arms, attempting to warm up. My body got numb, as a large hand landed on my shoulder, pulling me in a hug. Confused, I didn't know where to put my hands at first; Afton was tall enough (or I was short enough) to make the process of hugging a bit awkward. My shoulders untensed, I slowly placed my head on his broad chest. The scent of him was plesant and hearing his heartbeat was comforting. Even the cigarettes he was smoking didn't have the repulsive odour I usually encountered. It seemed that we could stand like this forever: in a complete silence, pressing tight against each other, William's gentle palm on my waist. Something decided me to speak up, though.

- Can I try?

- It'll harm your pretty lungs, Y/N

- Have you ever heard of passive smoking?, - my eyebrows furrowned in an annoyed grimace, - you make it no better by smoking in my presense.

- I'm over anyways, - taking the last breath in, he dropped the cigarette in the snow, - go inside.

I obeyed. The door was closed and soon we entered the living room. He lit the fireplace up and patted on the couch beside him.

- Here, warm yourself up, - he offered a blanket, - why aren't you sleeping?

- I just can't, - I answered, reluctant to reveal the whole case.