Painted With Blood || William Afton X Reader

Red

A few weeks had gone by since William made you his offer. You managed to get your makeshift studio set up in the spare room of his home just a few days after the phone call. Most of your time had been spent working on the custom painting he asked for, and working on your Paris painting whenever you could. You did prioritize William's painting. After all, he was letting you use his spare room as an art studio, and paying you double the price for you to make him a new piece! He also gave you a key to his house so you could use the little studio room whenever you wanted to. You felt that he was a generous man, and dismissed the little voice in your head that wanted to question everything.

Usually, you would arrive at his home to find him in his office with the door open, either speaking to Henry on the phone or working on his computer. At night, the only light in the office room would come from the cold blue light of the computer's screen. It washed over his face, accentuating the gentle shadows under his eyes and the stunning harshness of his cheekbones as he sat in the dark room. You would always stop in to say hello before you started working, secretly using it as an excuse to eye the details of his face. On the days he wasn't home, everything felt different. There were feelings of disappointment in you when the black Mercedes wasn't parked outside. When there were no keen eyes carefully surveying you while you painted, as you had gotten so used to.

It seemed impossible to try and figure him out. He was so lively and sharp-witted, yet somehow so eerie and empty at times. He was an open book you'd read a hundred times and a complete stranger all at once. Sometimes you could feel him looming behind you, studying the way your hand moved over the canvas as you smoothly painted colors onto it. He hadn't kissed you on the cheek or gotten close to you since the first night you went to his house. He wouldn't go further than his usual flirty remarks. When he looked at you, it seemed like he had a thousand things to say, just waiting on the tip of his tongue. He never spoke them, and you never had the strength to ask.

Tonight, the dim lighting of the art studio spilled over the canvas as you carefully added the last few finishing touches to the painting he had asked you for. He wasn't home when you arrived, but it was getting close to 9:00PM, which meant he would be back any minute now. He was never out past that time. You wondered when, or why, you started subconsciously learning William's habits.

Finally, the painting was finished. You set the paint brush down and took a step back to look at the completed piece. Just as you started to examine your finished work, you heard the lock turning in the front door. Mixed feelings started to run through you as you heard the jingle of William setting his keys down on the kitchen counter. You were excited to show him that his custom painting was finished, but at the same time you had a sinking feeling that you wouldn't be around William as much, now that you wouldn't need to use his spare room to work on a painting for him. The stirring feelings were pushed aside when you heard footsteps. You could feel his presence getting closer as he walked down the hallway, making his way to you.

"Hello, sweetheart."

He appeared in the doorway. His dark hair was neatly pushed away from his face, leaving his sharp silver eyes to be the only thing you could focus on. The suit he wore was well-fitted, perfectly accentuating his waist and the delicate nature of his wrists.

"Hey. I just finished the piece." The words came out while you restrained yourself from fidgeting under his piercing stare. It felt like he was cutting into you and ripping you apart just by the way he looked at you.