I Don't Get Paid Enough For This (William Afton x reader)

Trust Fall

The rectangle of dim light provided by the quickly setting sun was cut off from the hallway as the front door slammed shut behind you. The darkness engulfed you and the only sound was the eerie sound ticking of a grandfather clock and your own shallow breathing. It's just a dark hallway, what's the issue? Other than the hallway belonging to a serial killer.

You could feel Williams' presence behind you, it was a quiet presence, which made it all the more unnerving and malicious. He was silent for a few seconds before you heard the flip of a switch as the light flooded the hallway of the house.

"Here we are." Williams' cold tone spoke up as he moved to stand beside you as your eyes adjusted to the light, "Home sweet home."

There was nothing 'sweet' about the home. Although, it wasn't a total murder house filled with dead bodies and hooks and chains like you imagined but it felt... depressing. It felt like the epitome of going to a divorced dads house.

The entry hallway was an open space, with doors to other rooms on either side and the staircase ahead. There were no carpets or rugs, which bothered you for some strange reason, it made the house feel almost colder and uncomfortable. There were almost no attempts to decorate the house, sure there were pieces of furniture from what you could see in the entryway such as a small wooden console table sat opposite the stairs, yet there was nothing on it and you couldn't tell if anything was stored inside.

Williams' hand landed on your shoulder as he stood beside you, squeezing it slightly. Were you supposed to compliment this place? Was there anything to compliment?

"Nice place you got here." Again, you couldn't lie for shit, even your forced compliment couldn't muster even a piece of sincerity in its tone. William didn't respond, he simply moved his hand down to the small of your back as he began to push you further into the house, leading you to an equally bare living room.

William led you to the tacky patterned couch in the middle of the room and sat you down on the uncomfortable cushion that couldn't even be considered a cushion considering that it felt like you were sitting on a slab of stone. There was a matching armchair next to the couch with the same tacky brown floral patterns that were so outdated that even the 1950s would've rejected it.

William sat down as well, again being beyond socially unaware as he invaded your personal space, practically sitting thigh to thigh with you. You were silent, unsure of how exactly to approach the situation. The whole situation felt beyond awkward.

"So..." you started, desperate to fill the uneasy silence, "...you wanted to talk, so let's talk."

You just wanted to talk and then get the hell out of here so you could resume your plan of getting out of Hurricane and away from him and your guilt. He was totally messing with your schedule.

"What's the rush? We have plenty of time." He responded blankly, there was something so unemotional about him as he turned his body slightly to look at you as though his body was there but his mind wasn't.

Does this man ever just get to the point or does he insist on making everything difficult?

You were tired of waiting for explanations, waiting for answers, waiting for any form of communication that would help you understand.

"No, no, I'm sick of waiting." You finally spoke up. You were angry at him for what he had done, the innocent children he had hurt and now for keeping you in the dark, "You've been keeping me waiting for too long!"

You stood up from the couch, putting some distance between you two as you felt the anger that you had pushed down for the last few days begin to surface.

"I discovered the body of a dead kid, an innocent kid! And there's god knows how many more!" You snapped as you began to pace slightly, your steps echoing on the wooden flooring, "I have had the worst few days of my life and you won't tell me anything! You offered me help but won't give it to me!"