฿Ⱡł₦Đ ⱠØVɆ | William Afton x Reader

₵Ⱨ₳₱₮ɆⱤ 2

     You beelined out of Pirate's Cove in rapid pursuit of your little brother. 

     The checkered walls of the hallway blurred in your vision as you went. You would be running, but you weren't a kid anymore; you'd draw too much attention to yourself. So you kept a steady pace after Jack instead. 

     I just have to grab him before he gets into trouble. You thought with a determined gleam in your eyes. I have to. 

     If you weren't there to stop the little brat from messing something up, all hell would break loose and this wouldn't be the quick evening you wanted it to be. You really didn't want to have the manager called on you or something. 

     So you marched angrily into the arcade room. 

     Where is he? You thought, letting your eyes survey the busy area. You chewed on your lip in anger; this wasn't good. The more you tried to search, the more you realized how chaotic and confusing this hunt could and definitely would get. 

     There were scattered children, dizzying lights, beeping machines, and, honestly, you felt like you were going to have a sensory overload. You tried to tell yourself to remember the task at hand, but this room alone was messing with your head. Why make it so loud? You thought. So distracting? 

     You shook yourself and set off. You had to find Jack. You looked desperately around you as you walked, feeling an odd sense of urgency kick in. It only fueled your pace, and so you continued on. 

     It was dizzying to try and explore every nook and cranny in the arcade with your eyes alone, but it was the only choice if you didn't want to be here all day. (Spoiler alert, you didn't.) 

     You were just about to double back on your path to take a better look when you heard your name being whispered from a couple of feet away. 

     "Y/N!" A mischievous giggle. "Oh, Y/N!" 

     You whirled angrily around to find the source of the playful beckonings. Jack laughed at your feeble attempts to catch sight of him. You were so done with his games. 

     Soon enough, upon further inspection around where you thought his voice may be among all the others, you saw it. A brown-haired boy crouching carefully under an air hockey table. You made stern eye contact, and he waved excitedly. You huffed before stomping towards him. 

     "I'm not in the mood to play!" 

     You approached the table and ducked to look underneath. He was gone. You groaned in exhaustion before placing your hand on your thighs to steady yourself while you stood. And once again, you were off. 

     You were almost fuming by now. Why did he insist on messing with you like this? It was ridiculous. Couldn't he see that you were an adult? Though, you could hardly call yourself that. You were 20, and with hardly any adult experience, it didn't feel right to consider yourself one.

     You stopped for a second to catch your breath. Your gaze swiveled over the busy floorplan of old machines and minigames, and for a second, you couldn't find him. In fact, you actually considered leaving him to get lost in the maze of an arcade. 

     But then you noticed something so quick you could have missed it: a little arm disappearing in the dark space between a claw machine and the wall behind it. 

     Shit. You swore inwardly. 

     He was quite a few yards away now, but you had to get to him. This was surely going to be on you. You were going to get in trouble for Jack's stupid actions. He's gonna get electrocuted or something!

     And then you noticed something. A tall man in a purple uniform was approaching you. Or, wait... no! He had his eyes trained on that same claw machine. You had to reach Jack before he could. You couldn't afford to get in trouble now, not when you were already tired and embarrassed. It'd make this day even worse. 

     So you set off, your footsteps only quickening as you went. The man had almost reached your little brother. I have to get there first. I have to get there- 

     "Woah!" You felt a hefty weight crash recklessly into your side. Before you knew what was happening, you stumbled and fell directly onto your butt. You blinked angrily before looking up, and for a second, you forgot all about Jack and the man in purple. 

     In your vision was a boy; he looked to be about 9 or 10. A younger girl was behind him.

     "Oh- whoops!" He gasped as he realized what he had done. Evidently, he hadn't been watching where he was going. 

     "Your ice cream...!" The little girl whined. And that was when you took note of the thick chocolate ice cream dripping down your chest. You had liked that shirt, too, god damn it.

     It was more than angering - all of it. You were already worked up. You cursed under your breath before struggling to get up. 

     "Whatever, kid." You muttered through clenched teeth, trying to contain the rage that was bubbling under your skin. "You might want to buy some new ice cream, anyway." 

     The little girl started bawling, and you rolled your eyes. Your urge to scream right then and there was like a ticking time bomb; it felt as if it would explode and set the whole restaurant up in flames. You tried so hard to contain it. 

     "Sorry!" The boy giggled dismissively before starting to run away with his sister. "Shouldn't she have been watching where she was going?" 

     That one comment set it off. You let out a groan and kicked an arcade machine. 

     "I hate kids!" You near-yelled. Nobody would've heard you, anyway. Your anger blinded you for a moment, and you stepped back, wanting to just... stuff them in animatornic suits!

     But then you remembered. Jack! You whirled around to see what had happened in your distraction. Where had they gone? Suddenly, you caught sight of them. 

     The tall man was giving your little brother a gentle hand to helpfully pull him out from behind the claw machine. You ran over, panting. Upon your approach, you heard the man talking in a calming and melodic tone towards Jack. It didn't seem like he was getting in very much trouble.

     The boy excitedly pulled his hand away and gasped at the sight of you. 

     "Y/N!" He smiled. You were fuming. 

     "Jack!" You hissed. "You can't just go running off like that, okay? You're going to end up getting in all kinds of trouble and-" 

     "Is there a problem here?" The lanky man had not left. 

     He spoke coolly, a complete contrast to you. His voice was soft - almost melodic - and nicely contoured with a British accent.

     "Huh?" You made the unintelligible sound in response. 

     "Is there a problem? Because, he's okay. As long as it doesn't happen again." 

     You sighed in exasperation before looking down at Jack. 

     "Ugh, I'm sorry. I'm a little worked up right now." 

     "I can see that," The man replied, assuming a casual position. "What happened, dare I ask?" 

     He was looking at the murky brown stain on your shirt. You glanced down at it. 

     "Oh... It's, uh, kind of a long story."

     You kept your head down. The man in front of you - who's nametag, you had now noticed, read "Vincent" - tipped your chin up with his index finger. The unexpected gesture made your face heat up as you stared at him in shock. 

     "Don't worry, love. I have all day."