The taste of cherries - [ William Afton x Reader ]

:7: The wife :7:

1 / 4 / 1983

"Clara."

"Get the fuck out."

A deep angry voice came out from the doorway. William stood there and he did not look happy. You hadn't seen him frown yet and this? This was new.

Clara was still standing over you, holding your hair in her hands pulling then pushed you against the sharp kitchen islands corner making sure your back hit it. 

You gasped in pain and fell to the floor, wheezing after you felt the air knock out of your lungs, coughing as your gaze became blurry.

He noticed you..

You seemed to be in a daze, your eyes finding it hard to focus. You held your bleeding arm tighter, gritting your teeth in pain. Yet you tried to stay conscious while you watched blood dribble down the deep cut and onto the cold hard floor. 

"Hey, Willy!", she smiled sadistically. "Found a side chick while I was gone, huh?", She snort, laughing as she leaned on the counter.

William wouldn't let this slide. Not only did she come into his house all of a sudden, caring and remembering that this place existed and that he existed, but she also hit the one woman that didn't treat him like shit.

He didn't touch her, he didn't even raise his voice but the anger was obvious. "You crossed the line woman. Get out before i grab the Police and my lawyer.",

The shouting continued, screaming and yells started to soon meld into background noise you couldn't hear very well, while your head pounded like pans and pots crashing against each other. Never had you expected the 3rd day of your job to suddenly end with you bleeding on the floor,

After some more blurry shouting William had pushed his wife out of the house and quickly ran over to you.

"[Y/N]!! Dear... Hey.. Hey, it's okay. You're going to be alright.", William bent down by you, scooping you up and laying you down on the living rooms couch then ran to the kitchen and grabbed a first aid kit and began quickly tending to your wound. He checked for any larger shards of glass, disinfected it and finally wrapped it in a bandage.

Once you gained a bit more consciousness you sat up holding your head as he started tending to the small hole in your back, rubbing in some soothing salve to the slowly darkening large bruise.

"Hey... dear?..", he asked nervously.

You sighed, rubbing your temple with your good arm. "I'm..  okay.. thanks. Really.",

"Oh [Y/n]...", he sighed, feeling awful. "What I'd do for Y-", he was cut off.

"Daddy?",

Michael stood by the staircase holding a stuffed rabbit plush toy, his eyes full of big tears and his lips trembling.

William was stunned. He didn't know what to do. He was so tired of everything, so exhausted he felt like Michael in the moment, lost, sad and angry."I'm so sorry"  he whispered, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Noticing the upset look on his face you stood up and shuffled over to the child, taking it's hand gently and walking up the stairs with him. "Let's get you back to bed, hun..", you mumbled.

Around an hour later you returned back downstairs after cuddling and holding the saddened toddler, telling him everything is alright but when you came downstairs you found none other.

William sat on the couch, holding his head. He wasn't crying, but he clearly wanted to..

I suppose its like they say..

'Men shouldn't cry.'

. . .