William Afton x a reader who gets uncharacteristically clingy when they don’t feel well? :3c
aww that's kind of adorable request:] (i am lowkey missed writing fluff request damnit)
usually, william always a man of motion a whirlwind of theatrical gestures, sharp business calls, and the restless energy of a man who felt the world was moving too slowly for his liking.
but today, the whirlwind had stilled, anchored by the weight of your body pressed against his side on the velvet sofa.
the air in the afton household was heavy, thick with the scent of eucalyptus and the quiet, rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall.
you felt wretched—a fever had settled deep in your bones, leaving you achy and uncharacteristically needy.
normally, you were the steady one, the calm port to his stormy seas, but the malaise had stripped away your inhibitions. you found yourself tugging at the hem of his sweater, your fingers curling into the soft knit as you sought his warmth.
william, who usually loathed any disruption to his meticulously planned schedule, didn't even glance at the stack of paperwork on the coffee table. instead, he shifted, pulling you closer until your head was tucked firmly into the crook of his neck. his hand, large and warm, began a slow, cadent stroking of your hair, his touch unexpectedly delicate.
and he chuckled, a low, melodic sound that rumble deep in his chest—vibrating against your cheek. he could feel the way you clung to him, your fingers tightening on his sweater as if you were afraid he might dissolve into the shadows of the room if you let go.
"still so warm, my dear," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing vibration against your temple. he didn't pull away when you let out a small, pathetic whimper, instead—just leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. "stay right here. the world can wait for its ringmaster; today, you are the only audience that matters."
how odd, it's a kind of rare sight the usually poised and independent version of you reduced to a shivering, needy thing and he found he quite adored the power it gave him.
"my, my," he teased, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "is the great bunny of mine truly so helpless? one little fever and you’ve turned into a tiny, clinging vine." he didn't say it with mockery, though; there was a honeyed sweetness to his tone, a playful lilt that made your heart hammer even as your head throbbed.
he began to trail his fingers down the nape of your neck, his touch light as a feather, dancing just enough to make you gasp. when you let out a soft, frustrated sound and buried your face deeper into his neck, seeking more of him—he let out a soft, triumphant hum.
"hmm do you need more?" he whispered, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. his gloomy grey eyes were gleaming with a mischievous, almost predatory affection. " .. should i fetch the tea, or would you prefer to just stay here and use me as a pillow for the rest of the afternoon?"
he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was far too lingering and sweet for a man who was supposed to be 'tending' to you.
