(if the writing styles seem to be changing its because im trying out different writing styles and methods and im experimenting- so. Yeahhhhh)
The shrill ring of your phone drags you out of a restless sleep, cutting through the heavy quiet of your loft like a blade. You grope around the nightstand, fingers brushing against cold metal and stray pens, until they finally close around the vibrating device. The warmth of sleep clings stubbornly to your skin, and your eyes refuse to cooperate, vision swimming as you squint at the screen. Blurry shapes and smudges stare back at you—yeah, reading was definitely out of the question. You swipe to answer anyway, pressing the phone to your ear with a groggy, “Hello?” Your voice is rough, weighted by exhaustion, barely scratching the surface of a whisper. Perfect, now I sound like a corpse. Maybe that’ll scare off whoever decided this ungodly hour was the best time to—
“Good morning.” The voice on the other end is sharp, familiar, each syllable steeped in a clipped British accent that snaps you to attention so hard you might as well have been splashed with ice water. William Afton.
Your heart stumbles, a wild, startled dance that pulls you upright so fast the room lurches like a ship caught in a storm. A phone call from William? This must be a joke. Or maybe you were still dreaming, trapped in some half-baked fever fantasy where your boss actually remembered you had a phone number.
How did he even get your number?
Why was he calling you at all? Your pulse thrums in your ears as you struggle to catch up, the sudden shift from sleep to alertness like a slap to the face. The cold, shadowy outline of the room feels starker, sharper, as if the simple fact of his voice had dragged reality into a harsher light. You rub your eyes, the motion doing nothing to dispel the shiver that’s started to creep down your spine.
“Good morning,” you manage to say, and even you can hear the edge of shock that bleeds into your voice. Great. Just what he needs, proof that he’s already gotten you this rattled and it’s barely dawn. Your fingers tighten around the phone, the silence stretching and twisting between you, an invisible cord that makes your chest feel too tight.
“You won’t need to come in today,” he says, his tone brisk, no-nonsense, as though this entire situation isn’t weird enough to put you on edge. “I have personal matters to attend to.”
It takes a second for the words to register, as if your brain has temporarily short-circuited. William Afton, taking a day off? For personal reasons? It’s like finding out the sun decided it was tired of rising and would just sit in bed today. The man was all gears and steel, clockwork efficiency and cold calculation. This didn’t fit. This was like finding a loose thread on a perfectly tailored suit, something small and almost insignificant but unnervingly out of place.
Before you can start piecing together what ‘personal matters’ might mean—family? Some deep, dark ritual to summon productivity spirits?—he cuts through your thoughts. “I’ll pick you up around noon to take you to the auto shop for your car, if youd like.”
The offer punches through your confusion with all the subtlety of a jackhammer. He’s given you rides before, sure, but it always felt like testing the water with one toe before deciding the ocean was too risky. William Afton, the man who wielded silence like a weapon, offering you a ride? For something not work related? It didn’t line up, and yet… there it was, hanging in the air between you like something fragile, waiting to be swatted away.
Your hesitation sticks, thick as honey, but the dull ache pressing at your temples and the exhaustion weighing on your bones makes the idea of driving yourself feel like a task reserved for someone with more willpower. Reluctantly, you push aside the gnawing discomfort, ignoring the voice in your head screaming that accepting help from William was like daring a snake not to bite.
YOU ARE READING
Death Of Me (William Afton X Reader)
Fanfiction(Read the before i begin section for more details) When you anticipated that Henry Emily would be your sponsor for your apprenticeship, it came as a shocking disappointment to learn that his business partner, William Afton, would be stepping in inst...
