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fandomwritingbit · 2 months

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Battered & bruised

nightclub owner/William Afton x (fem)reader

synop: You've struggled getting employment because of your shady past, but the tides finally turn in your favour when a club owner called Henry gives you a job. And you're ready to work your arse off, not only in your security role but also with the other owner, William.

warning: swearing, violence. (reader is described as small)

A/n: Hello! This was my first ever au for William, so the ideas are genuinely 5 or 6 years old but the writing is today's lol. This is gonna be a series because I think the slow burn will work best this way.

A bloke called Henry Emily had given you a job. A security gig. Without an interview, without discussion of your role and without an induction. Just bam. He’d taken one look at you - then looked you up and down again for his own personal enjoyment - then listened to your whole speech about ‘wanting a chance to work hard’ and just gone: okay.

No CV. No experience. Nada. And that was exactly what you were looking for. Rent was due and to be honest you were in great need of some money. Plus it was hard for you to find work, especially given your... history.

He’s hired you because you’re brazen and easy on the eyes, it’s all a bit sleazy really, you’d thought so at the time too. But at least sleazy men are easy to manage.

He’d grinned at you. “Yeah alright, we’ll give you a try. You seem like a nice girl. Uh why don’t you rock up on Friday and we’ll show you the ropes?”

“Yeah that’s great, thank you so much.” You smiled at him, offering your hand for him to shake it. God if this fella had looked into you this would never have happened, he’s a sucker in that respect. But you wouldn’t make him regret it. You were after nothing but a regular income and it’d been fucking hard to find acceptance, to jeopardise it would be a fool’s errand.

His use of the word 'we' hadn't crossed your mind, you assumed he was the owner, after all you asked for the owner and he was brought to you. But maybe that’s some just desserts for not applying properly.

On that Friday, you arrived early, really using all that punctuality shit that had been drilled into you since secondary school. But a little prickle of anxiety settled in when you didn’t see any cars in the car park. You were only 10 minutes early; your start time at 20:00 ready for doors to open an hour later. But How will you get in if no one is there, for fuck’s sake? Your thoughts manifested in your head tilting the whole way back, a hefty sigh accompanying it.

Doubting yourself all the way, you go to the front doors and mercifully, they are unlocked and you walk into the nightclub you’d now call your home from home.

The lights were on, so someone must be there. Yet no one came to meet you at the door, even though you said hello fairly loudly. You smirked to yourself, walking inside uninvited and musing at how some cleaner was probably going to tell you off. They must be hidden away and now you’d have to tiptoe around trying to find them. Not too bad though, at least you can have a look around.

Moving further inside, you walk down a grey corridor with garish black and white dado rail the whole way down. It was peculiar décor to say the least, though obviously, it would look completely different with people inside.

Your footsteps were foreign in the quiet building, but you tried to keep a bit of confidence as you began your exploration. It took a while to find your way around - a few doors opened to cupboards stuffed with mops and loo roll, spilling out while you tried to shove all the shite back in. Surprisingly, you’d found a kind of lounge area, a few grey and red sofas, some big arse speakers lining the walls: a lot of money in that room, you thought. A past impulse echoing through you.

Eventually, you make your way to the ‘main area’, if you like. The part with the huge floor for people to dance, a small stage before it, with old looking lights and stuff, maybe you’d get to see a few local bands perform during your tenure, could be nice. You walk over to it, the back of the stage pitch black, so dark you couldn't tell if it was a curtain or not and stood on your tippy-toes like an idiot trying to decide.

Rustling from behind you, makes you turn to see a brightly coloured poster flitting to the floor after clearly having fallen from a board on the wall. You’ll pick it up, but before moving to do so you glance back to the stage offhandedly; the sight of a huge figure standing in the middle makes the skin leave your bones.

You can’t even help yourself, raising your hands almost immediately, “What the fuck are you doing, mate? You scared the shit out of me!” The figure moved further forward so that you could see him, it wasn’t Henry. This man was overly tall and slender with dark greying hair. Your anger quickly subsides at the expression on his face and you chuckle, the shock catching up to you. “Jesus...”

The man standing on the stage looked... fuming, to say the least. His brows narrowed and jaw stuck forward. He looked so pissed that you panicked for a minute, ready to backtrack a fair bit. But that feeling didn’t last long, the figure stepped down off the stage and walked towards you. As he stood in front of you, you found yourself stepping backwards, tilting your head to meet the eyes of this ridiculously tall and broad bloke.

“I scared you?” The man spoke slowly, voice deep and raspy. He wasn’t shouting, he didn’t need to. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing in my club?”

Well. Oh. Dear. It appears that you’d just been rather rude to someone important. Who’s first impression of you as an employee was now you effing and jeffing at him. Shit.

“Look... I’m sorry, mate. You scared me is all.” You speak quickly, trying to claw back a semblance of civility. Searching his face for some emotion other than boredom/anger, but nope there was nothing.

You think you see a flicker of amusement cross his face but it doesn't last two seconds. “I’ll ask again, what are you doing here?”

“Oh uh, I’m y/n.” You look at him for a look of recognition but he appeared none the wiser. “Mr Emily hired me... told me to come in today.”

You notice the pinch between his brows got more severe and you pick up on the hostility between this fella and your boss. He looked at you blankly, making no effort to fill increasingly brutal silence. You’re just about regretting ever being born, thinking about walking out and knocking on doors ‘til you find another idiot willing to hire you. But to your surprise a demeaning smirk appears on the man’s face as he looks down at you, and you breathe out slightly.

“Henry hired you?” He scoffs, moving his hand up and down in front of you to illustrate your height, “To do what? Sit on a pot of gold?” You get the feeling that he was trying to annoy you, make you want to storm out or some shit but you can only smirk at that terrible joke.

“Security, innit.” You say shortly, smiling back because... yeah you weren’t exactly the typical bouncer. “Uh who are you then?” You ask, half a shrug awkward on your shoulders.

He did not look best pleased by that question and folded his arms, eyes daggers at you. “Henry hasn’t told you shit, has he?” A scoff of a laugh came from this bloke but it looked coated in resentment.

“No, made me look a fuc.... mug.” You mumble.

“We’re co-owners, for some fucking reason.” He looked you up and down but not in the way that his counterpart had, if anything, it looked like he was sizing you up. And after a moment he just said, “William.” With a curt gesture to himself.

Once such an introduction had been made, he continued to complain, pissed that Henry hadn’t even told you what to do or where to get your uniform. You were thrusted upon him like a shitty diagnosis and he was left to sort you out? Always sorting out Henry’s shit he was.

And he did sort you out, giving you orders to your responsibilities, going into a store room to get you a uniform, a room you weren’t allowed to enter because of asbestos in the walls. A really comforting thing to hear on your first day, though you'd come to learn that that summed up the whole of this shitty club.

The whole thing was falling apart, left in this William's hands to sort out. And he was clearly working hard, but it was like trying to piss a fire out.

You’d thought that the frosty reception from William could have been just because you were new, that he’d probably warm up to you as you got a few weeks under your belt. Well, that wasn’t the case.

From the first day it became abundantly clear that he was just as snippy and unreceptive with everyone else. Be it ignorance, arrogance or plain uninterest, no one really knew, but he went about his role and gave you shit if you dared to overstep into his path. Which was enough motivation for you to put some graft in with the bastard. Fuck’s sake, everyone else was getting on well with you, from security to bar staff, Henry was damn-near obsessed! You’d get him on side, by hook or by fucking crook.

It started with a simple ‘good afternoon’ spoken loudly at him through his office door, letting him know your presence in the building, which was nearly always much earlier than everyone else. Then a smile any time you encountered him, not a suck-up kind of sweet smile but the kind that had raised eyebrows, self-deprecating and the like.

Yet it still felt like he bloody hated you. Not even a passionate hate, like you’d done something to genuinely offend him or run him over on the way there. A bored kind of vague dislike that he held for everyone else.

That won’t stand though. And you’re determined to fix it.

You’d come to learn over your short tenure there that Friday nights were fucking brutal. It seemed fuckers from all over would crawl out of the gutter to get pissed with their mates here. Course, it was good for business but as an employee not an owner you got all the hassle and none of the tassel. You were on duty in the main area and stood a post near the back corridors, watching for any odd behaviour and making sure everyone was as happy as you can be in a crumbling nightclub.

You find yourself clock-watching about half-way in and cross your fingers that the night will go mercifully quickly. Your counting of the minutes ‘til you could clock off is interrupted by a youngish lass coming up to you. Instantly your eyebrows are high, the person on the door dropped the ball on this one, this lass barely looked 18.

“Hey, do you uh work here?” The girl asks, looking over her shoulder for a second, before returning to you. You almost want to roll your eyes, of course you fucking work there, no one would do patrol for fun, would they? Carry a radio around for the craic of it? But her wide eyes make you bite your tongue and assess the situation more levelly.

“Yeah, is everything alright?” You smile wryly, hoping it comes across encouragingly, but your tiredness might have prevented that.

“I uh... there’s this guy, he won’t leave me and my friends alone.” She rubs her arm, “You know, just being real creepy...” You nod, what a joy and sadly not an uncommon one.

“Where are your friends?” You ask, looking at the young lass in front of you in increasing doubt that she should be here.

She looked over her shoulder, “Over there, in the red.” she said, and you spotted the two girls she meant instantly, and nod, able to pick out the guy she was talking about who was hanging around these girls much too closely. “We’re uh...” she looked down, shame flickering on her face. “We’re minors, please don’t be mad at me, I just... we don’t want to be harassed.”

You smile, remembering your similar youth, musing that fake IDs must be fairly fucking hard to find nowadays. And decided to take pity on the lass, it wasn’t nice to turf them out when the problem hadn't been their doing at all and to be frank, it’s above your pay grade, isn’t it? “I’m not going to throw you out, don’t worry... though you shouldn’t be here if you’re not 18.”

You sigh, “I’ll get him to leave but promise me you’ll stick together with your mates, ay?” She nods and thanks you extensively before you wish her well and go to fulfil your promise. Silently noting to tell Ste the doorman that he needs to get a pissing eye test.

The problem man was a heavy-set guy with a beard and a clearly designer shirt. A complete stereotype that you knew already, would be trouble. You take a breath before going over, mentally doing the sign of the cross over yourself, not that you thought it would do anything, it was more for your own comedic enjoyment, but if a higher power should see it, that’d be nice.

“Excuse me, sir.” You say, loud enough for the people around him to slowly start drifting away. As if sensing the unfolding scene the man looks at you with pre-emptive annoyance.

“Yeah?” He says as rudely as you expected.

You sigh, trying to remain as diplomatic as possible. “Your behaviour towards the young girls here is untoward and we won’t tolerate that here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

'Ask’ is the customer service way of telling him to get the fuck out and his reaction suggests that he knew that.

“Leave? I ain’t done nothing.” The question was asked loudly, trying to alert people around as to the perceived ridiculousness of what you were saying. Though the double negative hinted at him having done something, to say the least.

“That’s not what I’ve been told. Please leave, sir.” You repeat yourself, more authoritarian this time, your tone firm and leaning towards annoyance. It was embarrassing having to do this, but you knew that it was worth it to keep the girl you’d spoken to safe. The look on her face was enough to make you despise this man.

“And what if I say no?” He stepped forward after he spoke, squaring up to you, trying his hand at the old intimidation game. And despite his height over you, you keep rooted, looking at him with daggers.

“Sir. You’re embarrassing yourself.” You scoff, shaking your head. By this point that second-hand shame had caused the others nearby to either watch intently or move away. “A grown man having to be told to leave young lasses alone, for fuck sake.” Stepping forward yourself, you make your disgust visible. It had the opposite effect than intended and the man before you bubbled with rage.

“What the fuck did you say to me, you little bitch?”

“Stop being pathetic-” Your words of disbelief and amounting hatred were cut short when the huge bloke grabbed your arm bruisingly, wrenching you towards him. His larger stature allows him to manipulate your frame fairly easily.

William had a nose for trouble and as he stalked out from his office he caught sight of people leaving the main room. He shakes his head already annoyed at whatever he was to discover. Of all the things that he could have seen, an accident, injury etc... he didn't expect a man to be manhandling one of his employees. Least of all you. You who always smiled at him, even though it got nothing in return. You who shouted ‘afternoon!’ at him through his office door, often making him slosh coffee in surprise. You, who talked to him and engaged with him, unbothered by his reputation or generally unpleasant demeanour. How fucking dare someone put their hands on you.

“Stupid fucking slag.” The man spat, it landed on your skin.

“Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me.” You manage, your teeth clenched as you clasped at straws to try and de-escalate this borderline assault, hoping he’d realise how far out of proportion he’d blown this. He didn’t. Instead, your words were petrol on a fire and the sharp ringing of a slap could be heard over the music.

It was so harsh and crisp, for a moment you were dazed. The attack launches you into the difficult decision of fight or flight. It wasn’t the heat of the print on your face that made you react, however; it was the piggish sneer on his fucking face.

Punching him hard, square in the nose, you feel the old familiar sensation of pain blooming through your hand. From the point of contact it fizzled like static down your knuckles and up your arm, though it barely hurt over the adrenaline coursing through your system.

Your attack didn't deter him though, his grip on your arm not faltering even as the other rose to his face in shock. Taking your window of opportunity you strike him again, blood now pouring down his face, it provokes him to yank your arm straight, the grip blue pain on your flesh.

Powerless to do much else, you had to take his revenge, a punch that made you vision flicker, landing hard below your eye. Then another. You were reeling, your standing knocked with the strikes, it hurt but you burned with indignation that you were unable to hit this fucker again.

Straining to get away from the assault of raining blows, you grab his hair, pulling hard, the sensation of it lifting under your grip apparent in his grunt. It was then with a fist full of this cunt's hair that his grip on you failed. You look through blurred eyes to see your boss taking hold of him, pulling him by the shoulder into a balled fist.

The man wasn't going down easy, even though Afton got a strong hit on him, the man retaliated, striking back and you see the impact on your boss and his slight stumble, but it motivated him to take it to a new level.

He grabbed the man's head, pulling his stance in half, doubled over and raised his knee repeatedly into his face. Not stopping until he was satisfied, then shoving the larger man to the floor, and kicking him hard in the stomach and teeth, to the point where the attackers' whimpers were beginning to subside. You watched pretty horrified whilst other staff tried to herd patrons away.

Yanking the man up by his collar hissed something inaudible for you to his ear, before punching him again, letting him fall back down.

He was pulled outside by William, the bouncers too shocked to intervene and you just followed the display stupidly. You had no idea this man was capable of such... violence. Cause that was no fight, it was violence.

Afton left the man flicking in and about of consciousness on the curb outside, spitting on him when he mumbled a lisped "fuck you" in his direction.

You were watching in awe, when all of a sudden he turned to you, his face bloody and a hesitation for pain in his jaw.

"Are you alright?" He questions.

You blink. "Yeah..."

"You're bleeding?" He points out as though you were much stupider than you are.

"I'm banged up, but alright." You say quickly, searching his eyes for any acknowledgement of what had just happened. You had a nagging feeling that he was about to shout at you, ask what the fuck that was about. Hell maybe even sack you for the beating he just took.

"Nowhere near as bad as you are." You follow up. And that was putting it lightly, it looked like his nose was broken and his jaw must hurt in some way for how he slowly shuffled it, waiting to find where the pain was.

He scoffs at you, instantly regretting it as blood begins trickling over his lip, you wince alongside him as he wipes it on the back of his hand. With a grunt he turns his back and heads back inside.

Taken aback at his nonchalance, you struggle to get the words out. "Where's the first aid?" You call after him, your question stopping him in his tracks.

“There’s one in my office if you need it.” He replies from over his shoulder, continuing to walk away. You throw a shrug and slightly surprised sigh in the direction of his retreating form, before hurrying to catch up with him. You’d laugh if your head wasn't fucking banging.

Finally managing to reach him, you force your frame next to him on the corridor, walking side by side towards the back.

“I don’t know if I need it... you need stitches or something though, mat- William.”

“Says who?” His response is typically gruff and at this point you’re more than used to it.

Managing a smirk through the high-pitched pain behind your eyes, you don't let his uncaring attitude deter you. “The cut above your brow. Practically screaming it.”

Letting you follow him, he pauses briefly. To be honest, the strike to the brow had wiped itself from his memory, which was not at all a good sign, but the second you pointed it out he became very aware of the crispening blood hindering any movement of his face. Fucking stitches? And what, you were gonna do that, were you? Just what he needed, a headache on top of the one he already had.

“Seriously, this is my fault. Let me help you out, least I can do.”

“I’m fine, just need a drink... maybe a co-codamol.” He said not another word to you but made no effort to get you away from him and so you followed, half uncertain like a lost dog, all the way to his office at the back.

The way he moved it was hard to keep up with him, his huge height gave him a stride and a half. But you get there finally, and he doesn't bother to hold his office door open for you, letting it nearly hit you as it swung closed.

You survive and slip inside the office, just in time to see him slap the first aid kit on a table at the far side of the room. You go over to it and open it up, delighted to see that what once was a bottle of antiseptic was now half a thing of Dettol with a sewing kit beside it. Not a medical one, just your standard hotel one, with different coloured pieces of thread and a blunt looking needle.

“I see why you said no to the stitches.” You grin, watching the man sit down heavily at the table. He attempted to rub the space between his eyebrows but had to abandon the gesture as it interfered with his injuries.

“I told you.” He mumbles.

“Yeah well... Dettol will do something I guess.” You sit as well and start pouring the disinfectant on a cotton pad that you hope hadn’t been used before.

Just as you move to dab it over the hardened gash, he pulls away suddenly, a pissed off look about him that you should have probably been intimidated by, but your reaction time is fucked by your headache..

“What the hell are you doing?” He speaks through his teeth, not at all happy with the sudden movement.

“Sorting out your split brow. I have said it a fair few times now, you’re starting to worry me.” You wait for him to start going in on you, shouting or whatever the fuck he’d normally do to anyone trying to be nice. But he doesn’t say anything else. Just looks at you, the annoyed expression unmoving.

Over the past month or so he’d become quite used to your... demeanour. You didn’t offer any tact towards him, or just keep your head down like others. You took the opposite route, always had something to fucking say, some comment to make. It had grated on him, but he didn’t mind it really, though you weren’t going to get special treatment just because you don't know when to shut your damn mouth.

“So...” You prompt, shaking the cotton bud in front of him.

He didn’t dignify you with a response, just a swift nod.

“This is gonna sting, just don’t move so I don’t get it in your eye.” You warn whilst getting closer, it was quite unnerving to be this close to him, god’s sake you could hear him breathing.

As you pressed the fabric against his cut, he didn’t flinch like you would have expected, just remained reticent and staring forward. Though he let himself glance at you, noting how far you had to lean to reach him. God you were small, much too small to have been wailed on by a massive fuck like that. Being honest, he was surprised you were still standing.

He surprises himself by breaking the silence. “... Dettol doesn’t sting... better than antiseptic.”

A smirk finds itself on your face, “Had a lot of experience then?” That isn’t shocking news, there was something practised about the way he took down that man.

A small sound leaves him and you almost stop your action. This man can laugh? Could have fooled you. “You could say that. Don’t often get the shit beaten out of me though.”

Disbelief washes over you. “The shit beaten outta you?” You scoff. “You’re fine.” You blink a little. This was the textbook definition of ‘you should see the other guy’. Seriously, he couldn’t walk and was barely conscious. This cunt? Pretty much fine, minus a few scratches.

Once you’re done with disinfectant you rifle through the box looking for something better than the sewing kit. A plaster probably wouldn’t cut it, in an ideal world he should probably be in A&E. But eventually you get your hands on a pack of steri strips and right now they look better than gold. “Here, I don’t even have to mutilate you with the needle.” You grin and it earns a small lip twitch from your would-be pin cushion.

As you lean forward with the strips in hand, he doesn’t flinch from you even though it hurts to fuck when you push the cut closed to seal it. He notices as you're patching him up that your hand is covered in blood, it could be the bloke's at first glance but your knuckles look bust and there's a stiffness to your movement.

You finish up with the gash and step back a bit, smirking, it’s a fine job you’ve done there.

“Thanks.” He offers, just as plainly as you’ve come to expect. It makes you halt a second though, his pronunciation was off, so maybe he wasn’t as fine as you initially thought. Leaning forward, you go to investigate but he pulls himself from your grip.

“Leave it, it's fine...” It started sharp, but softened a bit as he caught sight of your arm. Holy shit. That was a number alright. Clearly already bruised from that dickhead’s hold, there were three distinct scratches down the length of your forearm where the man had evidently tried to hold on to you as he’d yanked him away, that explains the stiffness.

Looking at him you try to figure out what isn't right and eventually you settle on: "I think your nose is broken."

He reaches up himself, feeling along the bridge of his nose, the scowl on his face telling. "It isn’t." He concludes, briefly thinking ‘somehow’. With that, you start putting the medical stuff back in the box, just ignoring his curtness. You'd done your bit and patched him up, clearly your kindness was too much for him, so off you fucking pop, sheesh.

You hardly even get the equipment back in the box before Afton reaches forward and slides everything out of your grasp. Instinctively your brows raise, unsure of why he did that. “Are we not done?” You ask, uncertainly, maybe this is the part where he bollocks you.

“Sit down. Your arm needs sorting.” His words aren’t a suggestion. You look down to see what he’s talking about and wince at the sight; how hadn’t you noticed the scratches? They look awful, not that deep but plain ugly and sore now you come to think of it.

“Shit.” You say in your observation, slowly sitting whilst still watching your arm. So wrapped up in this new discovery that you jump when he reaches forward to grab your wrist, his big hands wrap all the way around it easily, man, this is a scary bloke. He pulls your arm slowly in front of him, not gently but certainly more understanding than you would have expected.

“I don’t even know how he done that.” You fill the silence, thinking aloud.

“Rings.” He answers, with a but too much knowledge, “Must have a fair bit of your arm stuck under them.” You almost laugh, but the visual is too grim and likely accurate. Looking up at him you see clear amusement on his face.

The Dettol is again brought out and when he dabs it too your scratches a cold pain reaches all the way up your arm, making you suck in through your teeth. He glances up at you and all you can say is. “You’re a fucking liar. That stings like hell.”

The man in front of you grins then, a starling crooked smirk that almost makes him look like a different bloke. It’s a handsome expression that’s made slightly menacing by a missing tooth after his canine above two silver ones. You think to yourself that this man has taken a lot of fucking beatings.

Through his grin, William says, “It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah alright, tough guy.” You dismiss him, trying to ignore that ache in your arm that makes you want to grind your teeth.

He looks back down to his task and the unusual expression remains on his face somewhat involuntarily. You notice and soon you’re smiling too, unable to help it, maybe the whole shitshow was catching up to you now, fisticuffs with a man well outside your weight class, only to be ‘rescued’ by your stoic, unnerving boss; and to top off the day of the unexpected, you made the fucker smile. Quite the day.

“So you can smile then?” You ask coyly, it’s a little victory that shows you’re successful chipping away at his frosty exterior, he’ll be a mate eventually.

He looks up at you quickly, his eyes narrow in that scrutinising way everyone who works here is accustomed to. But where an icy glare would usually have been a cocky, “Must be the head injury.” was.

You’re patched up pretty quickly, the cleaning of the wound taking half as much time as the debate about whether or not you need a bandage. You said it would be fine. He argues it’s necessity. And despite your assurance you’re now standing at his office door with a bandage tightly wrapped around your arm. You notice that the second the door was opened you could hear the dull thud of music, escaping the club and plaguing the managers too; good, you think.

He follows you out of the room, the two of you must look like a right pair, both beaten to shit. Looking in the reflection of the window to the office confirms as much, you’ve a nasty bruise under your eye, and a swelling that would probably make it difficult to open your eye in the morning. You’ve been in this situation before. As has he.

There in the narrow hallway you look up at him, feeling confronted by the height difference, now so obvious when you’re both standing. “Thank you for that.” You give him a genuine expression, really meaning it, even though your arm hurts more now than it did before.

“I only returned the favour.” He answers, pausing for a moment whilst he checks his watch. “You should go home. Obviously you’ll be paid for the whole shift.” He adds the last part as if he thought you’d object, there must have been something about your face that said you might.

“Yeah, okay.” You smile a little, before you remember that he’s well more banged up than you, his shirt is covered in the blood to prove it, if you get leave surely he should as well. “Are you going-” You begin to ask, but the door to the club opens and a man bursting through it cuts you off.

“What the fuck?!” Henry’s voice was bordering on hysterical, cutting shrill above the buzz of music and you don’t have to look to see eye rolling of your other boss. “William, tell me why the hell I’ve got 14 missed calls and a voicemail saying all shit has hit the fan?!” You stand awkwardly as Henry comes up to the both of you, there’s daggers in his eyes that are reserved purely for Afton.

“Easy, you’re a bit late with all this cavalry shit.” William snaps, his head is throbbing too much to deal with the headache that is his co-worker. “There was an incident, some silly fucker got violent. He’s been sorted.” You try not to grin at that, ‘sorted’, that’s one way to put it.

“So have you, by the looks of it. I swear to God, William, if this bites me in the arse, you’ll look worse than that.” Everyone standing there knows that that’s an empty threat, not that Henry wasn't capable of it, but rather that William towers over him. That seems to resonate with the instigator when he locks eyes with William’s uncaring and hard expression, so Henry moves on.

“Are you alright, darling?” He asks his voice now sugary, all his attention is on you, as well as a hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah. Just a few scrapes, I’ll live.” You keep all traces of amusement from your face, even as he begins to walk you out of the club in the direction of the car he thought you had, talking to you like you're a kid the whole way.

#fnaf #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf smut #william afton x you #fnaf william afton #fnaf movie

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insomniac4000 · 1 month

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Escape-A ChrisMD fic

"Who's stupid idea was this?" Chris grumbled as he walked along with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. He then had eight pairs of eyes on him all furrowed.

"YOURS!!!" Arthur TV bellowed out.

It started out innocently enough, the five of you sitting around in the living room as you often did, there might have been a couple of drinks consumed but nothing too major, you were mainly all sitting around and talking after failing to agree on something to watch. You had your legs draped over your boyfriend Chris's lap and was mostly just laughing at him and his friends being silly.

"We don't do a lot, maybe we should go out do some adventure golf or something," Chris suggested, everyone moaned at the word golf. He had dragged everyone in that room to golf at some point and you all hated it.

"Well I don't know paintball or an escape room or something!" He cried waving his arms around. You gently placed a hand on his arm to stop him from hitting you in the face accidentally.

"Escape room could be fun," ArthurTV shrugged, he quite liked solving puzzles.

And that was it, now here you all were three days later walking down the road at ten o clock in the morning on a Saturday, it was the only time they had available. Chris wasn't a morning person particularly he needed to have time to adjust before getting up for the day watching some Youtube or Tiktok with a cup of tea but he had woken up late this morning and didn't have time for his tea so was cranky.

"I don't know why this is suddenly all my fault," Chris sulked, you rolled your eyes but grabbed his hand anyway and squeezed it causing him to smile at you.

You got to the place bang on time, filled in the forms and listened to the actors spiel. The premise was of a manor house and a murder, however the detective investigating this had now gone missing. You entered the first room which looked to be a ransacked lounge, it was set in the nintety fifties and the décor reflected that.

"What's our strategy here?" George asked looking round the room to see the two Arthur's already off trying to solve a puzzle on the table and Chris looking around gormlessly wishing he stopped for a cup of tea on the way. A collection of newspapers had caught your eye and you were rooting through them trying to find a pattern.

"We need a number!" Arthur Hill announced as him and his namesake looked around the room for any further clues.

"Hang on," you said with your finger up. "2783," you added with a smile, a slightly smug one if you did say so yourself. ArthurTV punched the numbers in and the three of you cheered when the puzzle opened revealing three keys.

"Where do they go?" Chris asked, taking some time to get into the game.

"There under the TV," George pointed to the cabinet which had a key slot. The found the other two just as quickly.

"Huh that was easy," Chris mused as everyone piled into the next room when the door opened. The next part was a stable complete with horse puppets who neighed and made other horse sound effects.

"Well this is fucking weird," George commented as the rest of you looked around the room.

"Horse girls are weird," Arthur Hill added and you nodded in response.

"Why? What's wrong with animal lovers?" The other Arthur replied being a little bit offended as a lover of the animal kingdom.

"Horse girls are a different breed. You will always come second to the horse," you explained. You had a friend in school who ended up in tens of thousands of pounds in debt due to a horse, you failed to understand it but each to their own.

"Could this be something?" Chris had managed to switch on now, in part inspired by how quick everyone else managed to get out of the previous room and he did nothing to contribute. He was currently looking in a bag which was labelled apples.

"Don't be stupid," Arthur TV scolded, Chris frowned and placed the bag down.

"Fucking nerdy twat," Chris uttered under his breath. It was said in jest, like all of the banter the boys had inbetween them.

Minutes passed and frustrations grew as it appeared you were getting nowhere. There was a game with horse reigns where you had to get them untangled and put the four sets of reigns from one side to the other so they weren't touching. The two Arthur's had decided to work on that as you took one look at it and noped straight out of there and Chris thought it was a bit too difficult and he wanted something he could solve so he didn't look like an idiot in front of you. While you and Chris scrambled throughout the rest of the room not having much luck, Chris growing ever frustrated by the second.

"For fucks sake," he moaned placing his head in his hands and he stomped his foot like a a child.

"YES!" Arthur TV shouted as they managed to solve the puzzle, a small hatch next to the ropes with a key inside.

"Is there a door it opens?" Arthur Hill asked as he looked around.

"Look on the wall for a clue," a voice rang out, it was the worker who was keeping an eye on the group.

"We're so shit they need to help us," Chris muttered as he looked at the words on the wall behind him. "Red Rum, wasn't he a horse?"

"What's so special about him?" George asked also kicking himself at not being too helpful this time.

"He won the national three times," you shrugged.

"Then there must be three keys," ArthurTV surmised as everyone kept looking around for some more keys. Taking a punt Chris went into the bag of apples and pulled out a key straight away.

"I knew it!!!" Chris shouted as he punched the air. You couldn't help but smile and gave his back a little rub in celebration, he looked so pleased with himself but you knew the gloating would come soon enough.

"We would have done this room by now if I would have looked in here in the first place," Chris moaned. You were well used to his first character syndrome by now and you were very good at calming him down. Everyone else was also used to it and ignored the remark as they searched for the last key. When they finally got the final key and went through to the next room which was a library. Chris was still grumbling that no one was listening to him and everyone assumed he was thick because he liked football and it was the stereotype, it's one of the reasons he went on Mastermind.

In the library there was a map in the middle of the room, there multiple locations with lights on, ten in total and the rest of the room was filled with books.

"Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," Chris said as he was reading the titles. As soon as he did that a light on the map came on and flashed green, it was the light which was in the states around where Vegas would be.

"That must be it, we need to find the books which correspond to the map," ArthurTV summed up.

"There's also a letter A on the book," Chris added pointing to the post it note on the book. You then noticed the pen and pencil by the phone which was on a desk, the only other piece of furniture in the library.

"There must be a password when we've found them all," you added as you started to look at the rest of the books before putting an arm around your boyfriend. "Look at you clever little thing," you smiled before giving him a peck on the cheek. He smiled wide and winked at you before turning his attention back to the shelves.

"Come on love birds there will be plenty of time for that later!" George scolded as he found yet another book and said the title, The Little Paris Bookshop.

They went through that room quite quickly before making it through to what was the final room unbeknownst to them. It was the kitchen and it looked like it had been ransacked.

As time ticked on the group were growing ever frustrated at struggling to open the fridge, they had solved one puzzle already which told them that they needed to open the fridge as the key was in there.

"What about ingredients or a recipe or something?" Chris asked as he was shuffling through the papers.

"I dunno," ArthurTV said as he banged his head against the fridge door.

"Why do you all keep ignoring my ideas? I was right about the bloody bag and I smashed it with the books!" Chris shouted frustrated.

"Because most of the time what comes out of your mouth is bollocks," George replied in jest.

"There is too much testosterone in this room," you replied rolling you eyes. You could have gone to brunch with the girls but no, you had to join your boyfriend and his friends. "Babe, keep working on that, it's not like the rest of us have any other ideas."

Half an hour later you were all sitting in the pub, Chris with a smug smile on his face.

"Ninety three seconds left, glad I found that cake recipe when I did," Chris gloated causing everyone else to roll their eyes.

"Yes darling," you smiled letting him have his moment.

#chrismd x reader #chrismd #arthurtv #george clarke

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bicycle4two · 1 year

Text

christmas oneshot starring jason and his little mouse from built to love, but broken now

find more ficlets of this couple here

I saw Jason kissing...

Honestly, Jason didn’t mean to forget Christmas.

To be fair, it’s Christmas Eve so he didn’t actually forget Christmas itself, but still, it’s cutting it close and, well, it’s a holiday that’s kind of hard to miss with all the red and green décor. Frankly, he hasn’t had much to do with the holiday the past two years, never really had anyone to celebrate it with, to buy gifts for, so it was more out of habit that he paid no mind to the lights, the music, all the peppermint flavored food advertised on café and restaurant windows.

It’s in pretty poor practice that he doesn’t notice such obvious signs, he’s a detective, he’s supposed to see these things, observe, but he’s been busy. There were finals to study for, drug deals to bust, bad guys to rough up and throw in jail, sometimes even the hospital first. Jason’s got better things to do than stuff some stockings or prepare chocolate chip cookies and milk to leave out for Santa Claus.

The jolly old saint wouldn’t be able to get them anyway, what with Jason’s new security system set up.

So, really, it was only when Jason stopped a robbery by criminals dressed in red with sacks thrown over their shoulders that he finally got the hint. The red hats with white cotton balls glued to the ends of their point helped, too.

“Pretty sure Santa’s supposed to be leaving the gifts, not taking them.” He says as his only warning, just so he could see the look on their faces when they realize who’s caught them, before he shoots, careful to not kill anyone, but definitely aimed to scare, to immobilize.

It’s an easy fight. The Santa-wannabes go down easily, so easily that Jason’s a little disappointed.

But it’s Christmas Eve, so maybe it’s a sign that he should head back home, spend the holiday with someone he actually cares about.

It’s just that he doesn’t really have a gift to give, nothing to put under the small tree—now he realizes that it’s a Christmas tree—she had set up on the table next to their sofa and all the shops are closed early so that employees clock out and be with their families. Maybe he could make something, but no, that’s a bad idea. It all circles back to everything being closed and not having enough time.

He really should have been paying more attention. He’s pretty sure the grocery he was at the other day was blaring Jingle Bells, maybe even that song about the reindeer with the nose, while he looked for ingredients for spaghetti and meatballs.

wer r u?

come home soon?

The words, like always, tickle when they appear on his skin, like a gentle caress trying to get his attention. Jason stares at the words on his skin, the way her penmanship looks so soft and dainty against the harsh scars and thinks that he’ll just make it up to her when he gets home. He’ll cook dinner tonight, he’s sure he can whip up something Christmas-y and if he can’t, well, cookies are always an option. It’s the first thing Alfred taught him to make and the years of anger and hurt could not wash away those memories.

…

“There you are!” She greets once he’s inside the door.

There’s Christmas music playing softly in the background and Jason notes that their apartment is dimly lit, a sort of orange makes their living room seem warm, cozy, in theme. She’s set the mood. But he needs to get out of his boots first so he doesn’t track any dirt or grime onto their nice clean floors. It takes a second, it’s needlessly complicated but he needs the support so he can’t really complain.

“I’m back, mouse. Sorry I’m late,” he says, voice distracted as he works on the other boot. His gaze is lowered, focused on the clasps and the laces, but once he’s free from it, he straightens up, which, hurts, but at least he’s home and she’s always been good at alleviating his pain.

The first thing he sees are her white, thigh high socks. No, that’s not right. They’re not completely white, no, each leg has a red bow tied around her thigh, squeezing the flesh in such a way that Jason’s first thought is that he wants to bite it.

Which is shocking, he normally tries to push those kinds of thoughts away, but his eyes continue their journey anyway, taking in the shortness of her red dress, the way the white lining barely covers what Jason has yet to be privy to. There’s a thick black belt around her waist, cinching it, revealing curves that she doesn’t normally show off. Then there’s that white lining again teasing him, taunting him, daring him to keep his gaze on her chest, on the exposed skin.

And Jason, Jason is only human so he lingers for a second longer than he normally would.

He wonders what else he’ll find her wearing, wonders if she’s wearing a Santa hat, too. He thinks that red is definitely her color and Jason’s pretty sure he’ll never look at a gold belt buckle the same way again. So, he’s excited to take in what she looks like above her tantalizing costume, see what she’s done with her make up, her hair, but what he sees once he moves on from the slope of her shoulders, her neck, makes him to burst out into laughter.

“Mouse. Seriously?”

“What?” She says in the most innocent tone she can muster and he’s pretty sure she’s grinning behind the white beard she has on. “You don’t like?”

“I just didn’t expect—is that glued on?”

She strokes her beard in a thoughtful manner and Jason finds himself laughing all over again.

“I think it completes the look.”

“You’re looking very festive, yes. Have you been wearing that the whole night?”

“Nah. I threw this on just for you.” She approaches him now, hips swaying, and the image is very confusing with the beard. She’s slow to wrap her arms around him, always giving him a chance to stop her if he wanted to, but Jason’s used to her touch, craves it, so he welcomes her embrace. Even if the beard is a little itchy. “So tell me, have you been a good boy this year?”

“Oh, most definitely not.” He tugs on her beard, sees that its simply looped around her ears.

“Darn. Guess that means no present for you.” Her shoulders sag and she even manages to look a little disappointed.

“I’m sure you can make an exemption?” His hands seem to have a mind of their own, they’re enjoying the velvety texture of her dress, rubbing up and down, daring to even go lower.

“No can do. I’m a stickler for the rules.” But still she manages to step even closer, craning her neck to look at him and Jason has to tilt his chin down so he can keep her gaze. His hands take this as their chance to make a move and oh, would you look at that, she doesn’t seem to mind. “But, I am a sucker for tradition.”

It says a lot about their relationship, how in tune they are, that Jason can practically read her mind, can tell that she wants him to look up with just a pump of her eyebrows, a flutter of her lashes. And when Jason tears his eyes away from her to see what she has hung on the ceiling, he grins.

Mistletoe.

“So, what do you say?” Her voice brings his attention back to her and Jason, Jason has never been more in love with her. “Feeling the Christmas spirit?”

“Lose the beard, mouse.”

And she tears it off quickly if not a little violently, snapping the elastic off and tossing the beard over her shoulder. Jason feels the sting behind his own ears, but he finds that he doesn’t particularly care right now because there’s his girl, his pretty little mouse, all decked out in his color.

“Merry Christmas, Jason,” she whispers, eyes closing as their faces draw closer together.

Their kiss is sweet, she’s definitely had some hot chocolate while waiting for him, and Jason can’t help himself, he deepens the kiss in a way that makes her let out a surprised squeak before she melts into his embrace.

And Jason, Jason thinks he’s never going to forget Christmas now.

...

happy holidays to you all!

didn't think i'd be writing a christmas special(?) but i've been home the whole day and well, why not? i hope you enjoy this piece ☺

thanks so much for all the love and support you give these two, too!

#oneshot #jason todd oneshot #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfic #christmas fic #christmas oneshot #arkhamverse #arkham knight #arkham knight jason todd #red hood #red hood reader #jason todd #soulmates #soulmate au

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armin-supremacy · 2 years

Note

Hey so I saw your Bunny MC headcanon thing and really liked it! So I wanted to send a idea if it’s not too much trouble that is.

Here’s the idea, The MC in the game is a little kid and so when the demon brothers go to MC’s house for the first time they meet reader (a.k.a, Y/n) And they grow a humongous crush on Y/n. MC knowing them for year year notices their crush and decides to help the brothers (+ maybe the datables if you want that is) Thank you for reading this! Have a good day / night :) ❤️

sjydjajd I'm so sorry for the wait, thank you for being so patient 🥺❤️ pls note that i did age mc to an adult seeing as i dont feel itd make sense for a kid to be in the Devildom bestie, i hope you dont mind ~

pov : operation wingman

pairings: brothers (separate) x gn!reader

format: headcannon

genre: fluff, maybe a wee lil bit of crack

"I'll get it!"

You made your way to the door, yelling to the unexpected visitors that you were coming. You swung the door open with a smile, greeted by seven surprised faces.

"Can I help you?" Your tone was kind. You titlted your head to the side as you waited for an answer.

"We're friends of mc. This is the right home, correct?"

You nodded, turning your head back to call your sibling. Moving to the side, you gestured them into your home. "Come on in, make yourself comfortable."

He couldn't stop staring. He was absolutely smitten.

v subtle looks

plays it off as if hes admiring the décor of the home

little does he know

mc knows a crush blooming when they see one

"luci, you alright? you look a little thirsty there?" smirky smirk mc

"now that you mention, i would love a glass of water'

facepalm

plan b

mc leaves small hints and openings for lucifer to get close you

mc makes sure your feeling luci tho first

defiantly told asmo

cue cupid duo

its a slow burn love but EVENTUALLY

luci and reader sitting in a tree

k-i-s-s-i-n-g

def sneaks over any chance he can

gets in deep shit but

home boy dont care

mc immediately starts teasing him about his lil crush

"oh shit you serious?"

wingman mode activated

sometimes gets you a lil gift when he comes over

"oh i just thought these flowers would look nice in the living room"

mc made sure he got your favorite flowers

"they got my order wrong and gave me an extra, you want it?"

mc made sure he got your favorite

it doesn't take long for YOU to catch on tho

,,,,,especially since mc cant keep their mouth shut long

denies denies denies

at first

but mc to the rescue

mc told him to let them take care of everything

dear god

it started off easy

they would invite you to play games with them whenever he came to visit

but this one time was different

"oh! i forgot our snacks. i'll be right back!"

sneaky lil mc

levi is freaking out on the inside once mc leaves the room

the two of you were alone. ALONE

you were the one to initiate the talking

and once you managed to get levi talking, it was nice.

itll take time, but it was def on the right track

+1 point for wingman mc

mc will find a reason to give him an opening to spend time with you

satan is def a man who needs to get to know someone before considering moving forward past a friendship

for example

mc will come home late from something on 'accident' when he comes over to hang out

mc will find an excuse to run a quick errand or something

anything to get you two alone for a bit

satan caught on quick to mc's antics

but he's silently thankful

just don't mention it to his brothers.

pls. thx

immediately tells mc about his lil crush

tho mc is a bit hesitant about asmo and their sibling, it doesn't take long for them to warm up to the idea

offers to be wingman after making asmo swear to treat you goody good

and now to the fun stuff

tho asmodeus wears his heart on his sleeve, he still need a bit of encouragement

always includes you in spa times he has with mc when he visits

uses a face mask to take advantage of being close to you

just to see how you react to his touch or gaze

gets your favorite scents mc was kind enough to fill him in on when searching for new products to try with you

mc caught on before Beel did tbh

not saying Beel is slow, more like he kinda shrugged the feeling off until it became a bigger crush

mc shows beel how to make your favorite snack/meal

but plays it off a coincidence

"it was beel's idea, said he's never made it before"

"oh right, it is your favorite! isnt that silly?"

though messes up slightly on one ingriednet

"why don't you show us how to make it right? so we know where we messed up."

mc slips away while you're in cooking mode

beel is such a perfect lil helper actually 10/10 makes you swoon

this man takes the easiest route

surprised mc would be the one to come up with it

mans forgot he can just whip up into dreams

so, after a few visits, it begins

while he makes short appearances in your dreams

out of respect and privacy and not wanting to fuck up his shot

he doesn't stay long and doesn't do anything drastic

for example

he'll just play through a day you've spent with him and mc

though mc isnt present

mc is conveniently there for you to tell these dreams to

and your growing feelings

when you confess in your dreams and he's sure the feeling are reciprocated

he'll come forward a few days later in person

~~~~~~

i wont lie, i had a bit of trouble with this one. but i love the challenge! thank you so much for your patience and requesting! i hope it was to your expations~

#obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me belphegor #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me #obey me headcanons

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lady-necropolis · 1 year

Note

Hi Hi! I'm in love with your fanfics. So, I sincerely hope that you will be interested in my request about some comfort\smut Mary and the reader and thier small relationship anniversary. It can be night full of passionate romance, which is not typical for them. Love the idea that the reader is hypersensitive to hard touch and deep, long kisses, and Mary knows this very well. May be a bit of aftercare and naked talks as they cuddles, the reader strokes his hair, and Mary makes makes goofy jokes.

I am so so sorry anon for how long this took me to get to. I really hope you see this! 18+ under the cut

You were itching for the clock to turn six. Your foot tapping anxiously on the floor, nails drumming on the counter. You were probably driving your co-worker insane by the glare they kept shooting you as they sorted through the used stack of vinyl someone had donated earlier that day. To be fair you were always anxious for six. But it wasn’t just an ordinary day. No, it was your anniversary with Mary. And your practically vibrating on the spot waiting until you could get home and show him the present you’d made him. You’d both technically agreed not to get one another anything, but making something didn’t ever pop up in that discussion. And besides it was a special occasion. One year. The longest Mary had ever been in a relationship. And if you were being fair, it had been quite a while since any of your flings had lasted that long as well. One year. It warmed your heart every time you thought about it. It wasn’t easy. Mary clearly wasn’t used to committed relationships, and it had taken a lot of work on both your ends, Mary a lot of listening and you a lot of patience, but you fucking made it. And it was so worth it. Because every time you thought of your adorably feral partner, your stomach fluttered. No, the homemade gift was definitely worth it, you thought, rubbing your sore fingers, poked and calloused. You really ought to buy a thimble.

“Hey…d’you hear me?” You blink out of your daze to find your co-worker staring at you, completely unamused.

“Hmm? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” you mumble in apology.

“Just go home. It’s close to six and I can close the shop just fine on my own.”

“Are you sure?” You hesitate.

“Go. You’re driving me crazy with all that fidgeting.” Slinging your tote over your arm, you’re flying to the door before they even finish speaking.

“You’re the best!” You cry over your shoulder, skipping out onto the street and down to the bus stop. If it’s on time you just might make it home before Mary does; and it should give you enough time to prepare your surprise.

You make it to the bus stop just in time and score a single seat near the back door, plopping down heavily into it, tired from the day but buzzing with excitement. You might just make it back with a few minutes to spare. For now you pop your earbuds in and lean against the window, watching the cars pass by, people meandering on the streets, going about their day. All the while, an anxious pit is gnawing away in your stomach, and sensing it, your fingers flutter and tap against your bag.

The bus ride couldn’t feel any slower, and as soon your feet hit the pavement again your skipping up the street to your apartment, climbing the stairs nearly two at a time your key already in hand. The lock opens with a click! And you’re greeted with a completely silent apartment. No music from Mary’s record player, no tv. Perfect. Throwing your bag and keys down on a chair at your tiny dining table, you get to work.

Your apartment is small. A two bedroom in a crummy neighborhood; but rent is dirt cheap. And though you and Mary don’t make too much, you’ve made the place your own; having rummaged through yard sales and thrift stores for knick knacks and décor over the years. It was cozy, and so very special. And really, you couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, with anyone else.

You hid it in your wardrobe. At the bottom of your sock drawer, in a sock, rolled in another sock, just in case Mary got into it after forgetting to do a round of laundry. You pulled the small box out now, and held it in your hand. It was wrapped neatly in plain black paper, and all you had to do now was add the bow. You opted for a black lace ribbon, and sitting at your desk, you tied the box with a dainty bow. Perfect. You looked at the clock. There was still some time until Mary got home, and you paced about the apartment, lighting a few candles here and there. A couple at the dining table, a few in the bedroom that you told yourself wouldn’t catch fire while you let them be. And after everything was ready, the click, squeak, and slam of the door alerted you to Mary’s arrival.

“Babe?!” Your partner called out into the flat.

“At the table!” The sound of Mary shaking their heavy boots off thumped in rhythm with your pounding heart. You fumbled with the present, before you set it down on the table again, opting to ring your hands in anxious anticipation.

And then, out from the corner of the wall opening separating the kitchen from the dining and living room, poked a mismatched bouquet of wildflowers; daisies, dandelions, and forget-me-nots all in a messy bundle. Then, Mary popped their head round the corner, a devilish grin on his face.

“Happy anniversary.” You break out into a grin, and leap over to your partner. Mary rounds the corner just in time to catch you with an oof! As you throw your arms around their neck. You squeeze your eyes shut, breathing in deep the faint traces of Mary’s amber cologne, lingering cigarette smoke. Mary. “Take it you look the flowers?” They teased, a large hand cradling the back of your head, tangling into your hair as his other arm snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against them.

“Mhmm,” you hum into Mary’s neck. You pull back, your arms still linked around your partner’s neck. “Happy anniversary to you too.”

“Mmm.” Mary dipped his head, snatching your lips into a deep kiss, their tongue tracing over your lips. You sigh into the kiss, and Mary’s hands begin to roam down your sides, tracing over your hips, the swell of your backside. You had to give them the present now. There wouldn’t be much time later given how eager he was.

“Mary—”

“Hmm?” they moaned into your mouth, and your breath hitched as Mary’s knee nudge its way between your legs.

“Mary—Wait.” you breathed, pulling back from their chasing lips with a breathy laugh.

“What?” You could hear the slight frustration in his voice, the quiet whine slipping from their lips as you pull away. He’d just have to wait. This was important.

“I have something for you.” Mary frowned, brows quirking in confusion.

“I thought we said no gifts?” Panic creeped into his voice, and they ran a nervous hand through their hand. You smiled shyly.

“I know. But I promise I didn’t spend anything on this!” You hand Mary the small box, and a small smile forms on their face as they examine the wrapping.

The time it takes for Mary to unwrap the gift and open the box is agonizingly slow. Your legs start to jitter and he eyes you with amusement more than once. Then pulling back the tissue paper, Mary frowns, his brow pinching.

“Oh.” You chew on your lip. In the box was a single patch. Black and white. Written in jagged letters was Mary’s band Repugnant. Under it a skull, one eye piercing and wide.

“You’ve been working so hard on getting the band started I—I saw some of your sketches for a logo. I really liked that one.”

“You made me a band patch,” Mary murmurs.

“Yeah.” You shrug, wringing your hands. “Figured it could be your first merch.” Mary doesn’t say anything. Rather, he places the box on the table, and hungrily, pulls you tight against them. You breath in sharply as Mary crushes their lips to yours, all tongue and teeth, pushing you back against the table. Its edge digs sharply into your backside and wince in pain.

“Mary—” You huff, a heat bubbling in your gut as Mary grips your wrists, pinning your hands to the table as they nip at the sensitive skin of your jaw, licking and biting their way down your neck. One long leg tangles between yours, kicking your feet out from under you and Mary pushes you further up the table. Your hands skuttle reflexively to catch yourself, but he bears his weight down on you, pinning your wrists above your head. “The candles,” you squeak. And Mary huffs in amusement, leaning over you to blow them out.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” And with a bruising grip on your hips, Mary yanks you down the table until your hips are flush with theirs, and they unbutton your jeans, tugging them down your legs along with your underwear and throwing them in a heap on the floor. His hand is between your legs almost instantly, wasting no time in getting you worked up. You squirm with the suddenness of overwhelming pleasure. It punches the breath out of you and your hands fly down to pull away, give you some reprieve, but Mary doesn’t let you. With a devilish sneer, they hold you down, your hands caught in a bruising grip between a single large hand.

“Stay still,” Mary hisses as you buck your hips into his hand, whining. “So wet already, you want me to fuck you?” You find yourself nodding, practically begging, your eyes heavy-lidded, mouth parted in ecstasy. There’s a cloud of pleasure blurring your vision, and you struggle to focus on Mary as their hand is relentless, working you closer and closer to the crest.

“Y-yes, Mary. Need you.”

“Yeah? Want my cock?”

“Please.” You throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut as your toes curl, Mary inserting two fingers into you, curling around your sweet spot. “Fuck fuck fuck.” All you hear is the zip and the clanking of metal as Mary takes off their belt and pulls their cock out. You hiss and Mary groans as he runs the head of his cock through your slit. And without warning, thrusts into you, setting a bruising pace.

“Fuck! You feel so good,” Mary groans, their fingers digging harshly into your hips. He keeps you teetering precariously on the edge, the pleasure building. Everything is tense, and your eyes prickle with tears, the frustration mounting within you. Mary ruts into you with reckless abandon, uttering a string of curses under their breath as they slam you hard into the table, your shoulder blades screaming out in pain with each thrust.

“M-ary,” you moan, your breath punching out sharply as Mary fucks you hard.

“What is it sweetheart?” They growl, a hand squeezing your jaw harshly, gripping your chin so you’re looking straight at him.

“Please.” Mary grins, their breath heavy, panting.

“Please what? Say it. C’mon baby,” he grunted, a particularly sharp thrust to your sweet spot making you cry out. “Tell me.”

“Let me come, please.”

“You wanna come? Yeah?” Their hand squeezes your jaw tighter, fingers applying just the right amount of pressure. You nod as much as you can, and your toes curl as Mary slides their free hand down to work you once more. You hurtle over the crest, crying out, your whole body shaking. Mary isn’t far behind, his hips stuttering as you pulse around him. His nails sink into the supple flesh of your hips as they come, panting into the crook of your neck.

“Hey.” Your eyes flutter open, turning your head back to look at Mary. After the two of you recovered and your legs weren’t jelly, you’d made it to the bed, Mary holding you close as you basked in the blissful peace of your comedown.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For the patch. I love it.” You snort.

“Figured you did, given your reaction.” Mary huffed, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smile, letting your eyes slide shut as Mary’s arm pulls you in closer, tucking you under their chin.

“But can I get a lover’s discount or something on manufacturing.”

“Oh my god!”

“I’m thinking like 5, 10 percent off per orgasm?” You scrunch your face, frowning.

“That’s not much of a discount.” You feel them shrug.

“Adds up, babe. I’ll be paying next to nothing for bulk orders.”

“You have a lot of faith in your abilities Goore.”

“Yeah? Wanna bet?” It was getting late. You were sleepy. Perfectly cozy. But the bait was dangling right in front of your face and it would be a real pity to leave it hanging. So, with a mischievous smile on your lips, you give Mary an answer.

“Try me.”

#mary goore #mary goore x reader #mary goore fanfic

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abramsbooks · 1 year

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RECIPE: Fudge Cake with Caramel-Bourbon Buttercream (from Christmas with Southern Living 2022)

This swoon-worthy layer cake is a chocolate-lovers’ dream!

Serves 16

Active: 1 hour

Total: 3 hours, 10 minutes

FUDGE CAKE

1½ cups bittersweet chocolate chips

½ cup butter, softened

1 (1-lb.) pkg. light brown sugar

3 large eggs

2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for pans

1 tsp. baking soda

½ tsp. table salt

½ tsp. ground cinnamon

1 (8-oz.) container sour cream

1 cup hot strong brewed coffee

1 Tbsp. (½ oz.) bourbon

CARAMEL BUTTERCREAM

1 cup granulated sugar

1/3 cup water

1/3 cup heavy cream

¼ cup butter, chilled and cut into ½-inch pieces

1 cup butter, softened

4 oz. cream cheese, softened

½ tsp. vanilla extract

¼ tsp. table salt

4 cups unsifted powdered sugar

CHOCOLATE GANACHE

8 oz. semisweet baking chocolate (2 [4-oz.] baking chocolate bars), chopped

6 oz. bittersweet baking chocolate (from 2 [4-oz.] baking chocolate bars), chopped

1½ cups heavy cream

ADDITIONAL INGREDIENT

Shaved bittersweet chocolate

Prepare the Cake: Coat 2 (9-inch) square cake pans with cooking spray; dust with flour. Preheat oven to 350°F. Microwave chocolate chips in a microwavable bowl on MEDIUM (50% power) until melted, about 2 minutes, stopping to stir every 30 seconds. Stir until completely smooth.

Beat butter and brown sugar in the bowl of a heavy-duty stand mixer on medium until combined, about 5 minutes. Add eggs, 1 at a time, beating to combine after each addition. Add melted chocolate, beating until just combined.

Sift together flour, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon. Gradually add to chocolate mixture alternately with sour cream, beginning and ending with flour mixture, beating on low speed to blend after each addition. Gradually add coffee, beating on low. Stir in bourbon. Pour batter evenly into prepared pans.

Bake cake layers in preheated oven until a wooden pick comes out clean, 22 to 25 minutes. Cool in pans on wire racks 10 minutes. Remove cake layers from pans; transfer to wire racks to cool completely, about 1 hour.

Prepare the Buttercream: Place sugar and water in a saucepan; cook, stirring, over medium-high, until sugar dissolves, about 1 minute. Bring to a boil over medium-high. Cook, without stirring but swirling pan occasionally, until deep amber, about 10 minutes. Remove from heat. Add cream in a steady stream, stirring constantly. Stir in chilled butter until smooth; transfer to a bowl to cool, about 1 hour.

Beat softened butter and cream cheese in bowl of a heavy-duty stand mixer on medium until creamy, 3 minutes. Stir in vanilla and salt. Add 2 cups of the powdered sugar, beating on low until smooth, 2 minutes. Add caramel; beat on medium until combined, 2 minutes. Beat in remaining 2 cups powdered sugar on low to combine.

Prepare the Chocolate Ganache: Microwave semisweet and bittersweet baking chocolates and cream in a microwavable bowl on MEDIUM (50% power) for 1 minute. Remove and stir. Microwave until melted, 3 to 3½ minutes, stopping to stir every 30 seconds.

Assemble Cake: Place 1 cake layer on a platter; pour half of ganache on top, allowing some to drip over edges. Freeze to set, about 5 minutes. Spread half of buttercream to edges. Top with remaining layer; repeat with remaining ganache and buttercream. Garnish with shaved chocolate.

From the editors at Southern Living, warm and welcoming holiday recipes and creative ideas for decorating, entertaining, and handmade gifts

Discover fun and creative new ways to decorate, entertain, and handcraft gifts for the holidays. Sparkling menus and easy décor ideas, along with more than 100 brand-new recipes from the professionals of the South's most trusted kitchen, make entertaining a breeze for celebrations of all sizes. Inside, the editors of Southern Living reveal their favorite cooking tips and make-ahead secrets that take the pressure off hosting and put the focus on family and friends. There is also a special gifts-from-the-kitchen section with recipes for treats to wrap and share. More than 200 photographs show off dazzling holiday decorations and table settings to try, plus inspired designs for holiday wreaths, trees, centerpieces, and mantel arrangements. Christmas with Southern Living is the go-to resource for everything you need to make your holiday bright.

For more information, click here.

#abramsbooks #abrams books #christmas with southern living #christmas with southern living 2022 #christmas #christmas dessert #christmas book #christmas tips #christmas recipes

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oftlunarialmoon · 2 months

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Royally Cute/Kawaii Room Decorating! – Royals Lesson!

Originally posted to www.onlyfunthings.org on November 07, 2018

Ciao lovelies! Today’s lesson falls more on the kawaii side of things, as well as potentially on the LARP side of things (if you consider decorating your space in a royally cute way to be LARPing as a Royal, that is). Today we’re talking about Royal Room Decorating, I’ll be sharing some of my tips on how to get a super kawaii and fun-to-live-in space, as well as some decluttering tips, sharing some of my fave DIY’s, and even spotlighting some YouTube Videos about this topic. So let’s jump in!

Step One to Royal Room Decorating is starting with a clean space. Making sure that you have a fresh clean slate is very important.

Some tips to decluttering your space are:

- Know what you do and don’t use, and get rid of what you don’t. If you’re like me and hoard craft supplies, make sure that your supplies are actually useful items that you will put to use soon, or discard them (or give them away to another crafter).

- Go through your clothes, anything you don’t wear anymore, donate to charity.

- Clean out any trash from your space.

- Everything should have a designated place, even if that place is a miscellaneous bin.

Step two is deciding on your generalized décor theme. You don’t have to confine yourself to one narrow theme, but picking a general idea can help keep your décor cohesive. I am guilty of having non-cohesive décor, unfortunately, but my general theme is “Kawaii”. So, I try to display items in a cute fashion, have cute décor items, and decorate things accordingly. (Though some of my décor is a little out of the theme, but these “different” pieces are not in the majority.)

Step three is, naturally, decorating! Finding décor pieces to match your theme might be easy, or might be hard, depending on your tastes and interests. For today, I’m going to be focusing on a generalized “Cute/Elegant/Kawaii” theme. (We also have a Luxury Room Decorating On A Budget Post HERE!)

So, if one wants to decorate their space in a “kawaii” fashion, finding décor to match might be hard. While yes, if you have the funds you can buy from shops like Blippo or buy cute anime figures or other kawaii décor at conventions, but if you want to decorate cutely on a budget, there are many options for you!

How to Decorate Cutely on a Budget!

1. Thrift Shopping! One of the best ways to get cute décor for your space is thrift shopping! Even if you don’t find anything inherently cute, you can always get creative and add a DIY touch to items you find! And you never know, you might find something super kawaii at a thrift store. Check out THIS POST for some Thrifting Tips!

2. DIY! Another great way to get cute décor for your space is to make it yourself or transform existing items into cute items! Yumi King has a great Playlist for Kawaii Room Décor DIY’s. We have even done some DIY posts on Room Décor, check out THIS Royals Lesson on how to transform items into cute room décor, and we also have a post on how to make some Kawaii Paintings (CLICK ME!).

3. Dollar Stores! You can find some cute stuff at the Dollar Store too! I found all this super cute stuff for decorating at the dollar store (each item was only $1):

. I also found this cute serving tray which is metal, and I use it to display lip balms on my dresser at Uni:

4. Double-Use Items! What does this mean? Well take for example my desk’s décor:

I use my squishies as both décor and stress relief! You can also use items like cute clothes/bags/accessories for décor, like hanging cute necklaces on jewelry organizers on your dresser and such, or displaying cute bags on a shelf.

5. Sales! Take advantage of Sales, but make sure items are actually on sale (sometimes stores mark up items shortly before a sale and then mark them down to look like a sale, but they’re actually normal price.). Sales like post-holiday sales are great. For example, Halloween just ended and you can still find discount Halloween stuff, if that’s your thing. And I’m thinking, after Valentines Day, you could find tons of cute pastel items on sale!

Thank you for reading! I hope these tips on how to decorate cute on a budget helped you!

Remember to Stay Awesome and Love Yourself!

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mydecorative · 13 days

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Add Drama To Your Living Room: Innovative Home Decor Ideas

Living rooms are important part of our homes. Here are few easy and home décor ideas that will help you transform your living room into a beautiful and inviting space.

#nature #textures #lights #home #decor #interiors #designs #sanctuary

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lighthousepyrate · 4 months

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|| Continued from (x) @fxckin-blackbeard ||

This was going to be perfect. An idea that came to him flipping through the pages of an old book, one of the few surviving his life at land and sea and everywhere in between. A flower, falling out onto his lap. Twisted between his fingers. Silk. Not one of those pressed and forgotten about, meaningful all the same. From a night that felt a lifetime ago. Worn in an arrangement, tucked in silver tresses. Saved as a keepsake. He still recalled the way Ed’s eyes lit up, seeing his collection of hair décor. Drawn to the silken Edelweiss in particular. A wonderful choice, he told him.

And when Stede saw a florist in the seaside town where they made port, it only bolstered his plans.

His mother taught him about flowers. Crafting arrangements for display throughout the mansion. Gentle hands guiding his picks to the vases, careful to wait for his father’s absence. Knowing the ire they’d suffer should he catch them. He remembered the meanings she taught him. Changing over the years as the art developed. Still in its infancy, really. Only a book or two offering its teachings. Ordering the bouquet was the easy bit. Sneaking it back aboard the ship proved more of a challenge. He managed to, concealing it until he felt the time was right.

“Hi,” Stede chirps, head popping out onto the sunlit deck. He watches Edward briefly, masterfully sailing the ship. Even now, it set his heart aflutter. He’s quick to hop up the stairs, practically skipping as he reveals the flowers from behind his back. “Oh, you know. I just happened upon a florist in town. They are aren’t they?” A sing-song tone, smiling brightly. Giddy and gleeful. “Not quite. Although they would definitely brighten the place up a bit."

"No, they’re for you, my dearest.”

#verse; surely to the sea #to laden in finery; ed (fxckin blackbeard)#//he's so pleased with himself

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somediyprojects · 6 months

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DIY treasure hunting: keys

Project by Kate Pruitt:

I’m so very excited to introduce Treasure Hunting, a new monthly column for DIY Wednesdays. If you’re like me, you can often be found browsing the aisles of thrift shops, scouring the tables at flea markets or haggling over prices at yard sales. Sometimes you inherit a random item unexpectedly, or perhaps you walk past give-away piles on the street and feel an involuntary cringe over the wasted possibilities. This column stems from those experiences and from a love of objects and their formal properties.

I’m not advocating aggressive hoarding habits by any means, but there are some seemingly mundane, disposable, obsolete objects in the world that are not entirely without merit. Treasure Hunting will take these objects and find a way to make them wonderful again, through their visual impact as a collection or their value as a new and improved functional or decorative item.

The first post is about old keys. The key is a pretty standard tool that we all own, but as a design object, it’s spectacular. The possibilities for using keys in interesting and beautiful ways are endless, so forgive the length of this initial post; they won’t all be this lengthy, I promise. I hope you enjoy the new column and stay tuned for all the treasures yet to come! — Kate

Image above: A collection of keys from JeepersKeepers

Nothing combines form and function quite like a key. Their beautifully peculiar notches and curves are not just for decoration; the shapes are dictated by the maze of gates inside their corresponding door lock. Maybe if I studied locksmithing a bit, the process would be demystified but as it stands now, keys are magical. They certainly look magical. With a humble purpose, low price point and everyday availability, keys are an untapped resource for creating a captivating home display.

Images, from top: A key display from Llubav Choy Duerr’s living room, a collection of skeleton keys from Country Living

Hanging Composition This style of loosely composed objects as wall décor seems so effortlessly chic to me. I love how it catches the eye, and then allows it to wander off the composition. The beauty is not only in the overall visual impact of the varied shapes and sizes. It’s also in the details you can only see close up, the intricacies and history behind each rusted or labeled key. Another benefit to this display is that you can add to it as time goes on, enriching it with an ongoing collection of pieces found here and there.

How to Get the Look

1. A successful composition can be loose and organically shaped, or rigid and linear. First, measure the size of the wall space you have.

2. Tape off the dimension on the floor so you can roughly plan out a composition to see if it works and to give you an idea of the spacing you need.

3. Begin hanging the keys on the wall using a hammer and small picture-hanging nails or brads. These will cause minimal damage and allow you to make a few adjustments without causing any eyesores in your wall.

4. If you have trouble finding varied sizes or shapes of keys, consider drawing silhouettes of keys onto decorative paper, fabric or wood veneer and add them into the mix. The combination of 2D and 3D objects can be quite striking if there is a common shape that keeps them unified.

5. Carefully place your keys in the frame and replace the backing or glass, and it’s ready to hang!

Images clockwise from top left: Key art from CB2 (no longer available), Mamie Jane’s DIY key art, Ballard Designs (no longer available), Restoration Hardware

Framed Key Art Sometimes quantity in a collection is unnecessary. I love the look of a single object or group of objects hovering in a frame. The focus given to a seemingly mundane object once it’s framed is mysterious and visually quite interesting. Placing a small collection of keys in to a framed wall piece is a quick and easy way to display the objects.

How to Get the Look

1. Find a frame or frames that will fit your key collection. If you want to have glass in the frame, you will need to use a shadow box or a frame deep enough to fit your keys. Paint or treat the frame if necessary.

2. Use a piece of cardboard, foam core or wood as the backing for your piece. Cut it to size, so it will fit perfectly within your frame.

3. Cover the backing with paper, linen or a fabric of your choice. Use spray adhesive to attach the paper or fabric to the backing.

4. Use small nails or tacks to hang the keys in place. If your keys are lightweight, you can choose to use a small dab of hot glue at the top of the back of the key to permanently set the keys in place. Remove any loose glue threads by blowing on them for a few seconds with a hairdryer.

5. Carefully place your keys in the frame and replace the backing or glass, and it’s ready to hang!

Images clockwise from left: necklace from November Rose Atelier, gift package by Oh, Hello Friend, porcelain keys available at Chatchada

Loose Keys Keys are like little mysteries unto themselves, which is why they can be charming just on their own to give as present or wear as an accessory. You can personalize a plain key with paint, gold leaf, decoupage and other craft techniques, or you can simply use a beautiful antique key on its own — either way, keys are little treasures that make the perfect objet d’art.

How to Get the Look

1. You can fake the look of these beautiful cast porcelain keys by dipping real keys into plaster-of-Paris or thick white paint. First, bend a few paper clips open and hang them on a string to make drying hooks, and place a layer of newspaper or paper towel underneath the drying station.

2. Mix up the plaster-of-Paris or paint in a small bucket, ensuring you have enough liquid in the bucket to submerge the entire key. Give the key several coats, allowing it to dry between each coat. This will help achieve that thick, made-of-clay appearance.

3. Attach the key with a pretty ribbon to a gift, or string the key on a chain to create a lovely pendant.

#diy #crafts #x

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jojoblessed365 · 1 year

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Teach Me Tonight- Chapter 5

School is back in session after the Thanksgiving break and both Jess and Rory feel the worst of the Winter Ball come up. The fundraisers come in, parents dutifully send in funds, they have to curb the students’ certain fantasies (bringing swans as part of the décor like in Father of the Bride kind of fantasies). But all in all, it is shaping up perfectly. And all the while, Jess feels sentimental about it. Truth be told, he enjoyed the process. Maybe, he’d even go further to say that getting to Rory more during this process was the highlight of the entire thing. He got to know more about her than what he would’ve known on a normal basis, and that thrilled him. But then as the last week of torture- the week of the Winter Ball rolls around- he can’t help but feel a little bit despondent, given that he won’t have an excuse to talk to Rory, outside of their merged class or a reason to meet her during the lunch break. The sentiment is especially poignant as he walks into the classroom where the last dance committee meeting is taking place. Everything’s arranged – the ballroom at a nearby hotel is booked, the deejay arranged, decorations bought and paid for – now all that needs to be done is to figure out who’s doing what to help with the setup on Saturday. Jess knows he needs to be there regardless of what duties he ends up assuming. On the work front, he’s finally done with the first draft of the third Dodger Bishop book, but that doesn’t mean he’s out of the woods. His editor, Amir, a Middle Eastern man who had adept skills as an editor, would pick apart every little detail and that process often turned out to be the most painful. And then would come the book launch, where Jess would be at his utmost worst, given that women would throw themselves at him left, right and centre, and then executives would hound him in order to create novelizations of his book series. “Hey, you ok?” The sound of Rory’s voice startles Jess out of the problems swirling in his head and he looks over to see Rory sitting down in her usual seat right next to his. Jess shakes his head a bit, to clear his thoughts and gives Rory a smile that he knows is a little tight. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Just…a little frazzled, you know? Got a lot going on.” His heart can’t refrain from skipping a beat at the sight of the soft, sympathetic smile that Rory flashes in his direction. “Probably can’t wait for thing to be over, huh?” Jess lets out a groan that would have been indecent if it weren’t tinged with so much exhaustion. “You have no idea,” he says, slumping a bit. “I’m exhausted.” Rory frowns, eyebrows arching downward. “You gonna be ok to help out during the dance on Saturday?” Jess straightens up and nods. “Oh, you’re not getting rid of me that easy, Gilmore,” he says, grinning despite his exhaustion. “I bought a new suit and everything and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna miss out on seeing you in a dress.” Rory returns her grin, but it’s a little dopey and the sight does funny things to Jess’s heart. “You can’t wait to see me in a dress? My, I wonder how you’ll be when I’m wearing a new dress.” They’re surrounded by the dance committee students, the room filled with the sounds of their voices as they start to get the meeting underway, but Jess still hears Rory’s words, soft-spoken and almost hopeful and, if they weren’t in front of a dozen students, Jess doesn’t know if he’d be able to stop himself from leaning over and kissing her. “You bought a dress?” Rory reaches up and grabs a lock of her own hair, twirling the strand around her index and middle fingers, and Jess can see her face warm with a mild blush. “Well, more like my mother made my dress,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. “but it’s a fact- I’m a woman and embrace any and every opportunity to wear a new dress.” Jess huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head a bit. “Sorry, my mistake,” he says just as Laura, in her role as Student Council Treasurer and chair of the dance committee, calls the last meeting to order.

Dedicated to @stellaluna33

Here's a moodboard for Jess and Rory at the Winter Ball:

Enjoy!!!

XoXo,

#jess x rory #jess mariano #rory gilmore #rory x jess #literati #literati fic #milo ventimiglia #alexis bledel #teach me tonight #stellaluna33 #weekend read #winter dance #my excuse for Jess and Rory at a prom #and theres a very steamy Midge/Lenny or JavaJunkie slow dance in this

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alexmercer786 · 7 months

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Meeting Rooms in Bangalore: Where Creativity Flows

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#coworking space #bangalore #coworking #office space #office #business #corporate office #collabcubicles #coworking community #meeting

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shelivesinhermind · 1 year

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Hearth for Canute and Emma, if you’re up to it!

Thank you for the prompt, friend! And look! I did a modern au for this one. But we still have Canute warming his hands by the fire ;) I hope you enjoy!

A Christmas Fire

With only one week till Christmas, Emma was determined to decorate the house for her boys.

Since her husband’s passing, life had been hectic. Years past, Emma always tried to make a big deal of Christmas for Edward and Alfred. Becoming a single mother had put a damper on her usual plans. Not that much had changed from when she was married, even when her husband was alive, they seemed to argue more than anything. Her time had already been consumed by her boys for many years. Yet, she still had to stand on her own in a new way with her husband gone, which explained why she was last-minute putting up Christmas decorations.

Richard, her brother, and his wife had shown up that morning to take the boys for some “holiday cheer” they called it. Emma did not know exactly what they were doing, but she had a good idea it included hot chocolate, a light show, and a trip to see Santa at the mall. It did not matter, what did matter was she now had all day to decorate the house and surprise her sons when they returned.

First, she needed to get all the boxes full of Christmas décor down from the attic. One box at a time she slowly filled their living room with Christmas. Only taking breaks to drink her coffee, Emma soon had the house stacked with every Christmas décor item she would need. Each box labeled to their specific location in the house, she first began with the tree.

Of course, no day decorating for the holiday season was complete without classic Christmas music. Prepping her turntable, she pulled out a vinyl of Nat King Cole “The Christmas Song” and let it play.

With the house to herself, coffee, and music, Emma was ready to relax and enjoy the day. She let herself get giddy while assembling the Christmas tree. Snow fell gently outside the window as she arranged the tree in front of it. Once she had the lights lite, tinsel of green and red was wrapped around the large tree. She would wait to decorate the tree with ornaments, knowing Edward and Alfred would want to help.

Emma descended from the step-ladder she stood on to reach the top of the tree, then realized she had not lite a fire.

In the center of their living room sat a large hearth with plenty of room for stockings, garland, and all other decorations. She loved to have a fire lite while making the mantel festive.

The hearth now crackling with the warmth of a fire, she grabbed the boxes with all the décor she would need. With care she hung each of their stockings, hesitant with what to do when it came to her late husband’s stocking. The memory and pain, not only of his death, but of the mess their relationship had become, left her grieving for things she never thought she wanted. Her heart ached at the thought of the Christmases her sons heard them arguing instead of being a happy family.

Determined to change things this year, she moved on with her plans to surprise her sons. She hung her late husband’s stocking so the boys still had a way to remember their father. Emma wanted this Christmas to be so much better for everyone, including herself. Grieving had taken so much joy from them this year.

The mantel glittered with garland, lights, nutcrackers, and candles. Each stocking hung cozy in front of the fire. Emma had made good progress, and she was so happy with all she had accomplished before lunch time.

With that thought, her stomach rumbled to remind her it was lunch, and she had not eaten.

While she ate, she brought the boxes of her Christmas dishes to be unpacked and placed in her cabinets. In the kitchen, she placed her bright red tablecloth on the table, and a large candelabra in the center.

The afternoon still ahead of her, Emma now was left with the outside decorations. Hanging the wreaths would be easy, but she had never put up the lights around the house herself. Usually, her and her husband would both help each other, after days of coxing on Emma’s part, and have the lights hung in no time. Yet, this year it was only her. She could wait for her brother to return; he would most definitely help. She was determined, however, to have the house in tip-top shape by the time they returned.

Putting her puffy jacket on, snow boots, and gloves, she made her way to the garage.

Getting the wreaths out and hung would take some time, as their large house had many windows. But Emma had done this many times and felt secure enough on the ladder to reach the intended windows.

One by one she went around the house and hung the wreaths, stopping only to fluff them to perfection. Red bows decorated the bottoms, standing out against the white backdrop of their home.

Seeing the afternoon was soon coming to a close, she knew she had to get the lights up.

Each car that drove by and waved hello had Emma silently praying no one would witness her demise if her attempt to light the house went badly.

The ladder she had to use for the lights was much bigger than the one to hang the wreaths. She had to be able to reach the top of the shingles to secure the hooks for the lights. She knew she should have someone spot her from below and hold the ladder as she ascended, but there was nothing else to be done, she would have to make due.

Taking the small box of hooks with her, she slowly ascended the ladder. Once she had the desired hook in place, she would have to descend and move the ladder to the next location. After the entire front of the house had hooks for the lights, Emma was silently pleased it was going better than she thought.

Now came the even harder task—she had to string the lights. She took a coil of lights and once again made her way back up the ladder. Securing the strand in place, she still had the other portion to string up. Lights in hand, she made her way back down the ladder.

One down, many more to go.

Moving the ladder again, she began the process over. Emma was getting weary with having to move and place everything herself, along with the caked snow on her boots, her trips on the ladder became more taxing.

Toward the end of the strand, with only a little more to go, she felt her foot slip as she climbed down the ladder. Not able to get purchase with her slick boots, she fell backwards. Just as she fell, she felt strong, firm hands grab her waist, and she fell into a body instead of the cold snow.

Laying there for only a second to gain her breath, she jolted up to see who she had fallen on.

“Oh my god!”

She instantly began searching the man who had undoubtedly cushioned her fall for injury. She felt his wide, thick chest, hoping there was no cracked ribs. It was then she realized she was openly groping a man, then she stopped, her eyes flicking to his—piercing blue eyes met hers, framed in a stern face with a dark beard.

“I am so sorry. Are you alright?”

He stared for a moment, as if he was dazed. Panic seized her as she thought instantly of his head and that he may have a concussion.

“Oh god! I am calling an ambulance”

She started to make for the house, but his hand jolted out to grab her arm.

“No, I’m fine. Just give me a moment.”, he grunted.

She stopped hesitantly, not fully believing if he was ok. As he sat up, she found her eyes once again roaming over him for injury. It was then she noticed his dark hair, shaved at the sides, and the short trim at the top slicked back. And was that tattoos on his hands? She had never really interacted with a man like him. All the men she knew, including her husband and brother, had been very sleek, professional, with business suits and Ralph Lauren attire. This man who had tried to prevent her fall was entirely different.

Fully sat up, he ran his hand over his head as if clearing it. Emma was still worried he had a concussion, but instead of asking about him again, she stopped as his eyes instantly went to her with worry.

“Are you hurt? That was quite the distance to fall.”

With the snow on her jeans now melted and seeping into her skin, she shivered. His eyes did not miss a thing, he was instantly standing, and came toward her. “What where you doing up there by yourself?”

Stunned for a moment, she stammered. “I…I was trying to get my home ready for my children. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the emergency room? I mean…I literally fell on top of you.”

Something twinkled in his eyes that she could not make out, but he answered, “I promise, I am fine. I’ve had worse.”

Scanning the neighborhood for anyone out and about, every house was quiet, no one even out walking.

“Where did you come from?”

He let out a deep breathe, the air turning to smoke in the cold, winter day. “I just moved here from out of town not long ago. I was walking my trash to the dump when I noticed you hanging the decorations. On my way back was when I noticed you almost fall.”

Almost was an understatement, if not for him, she could have most definitely injured herself.

“I…Thank you. You definitely saved my evening from being ruined with my children. It would not have not been the happy time I planned if I was injured.”

He gave a bashful smile, and Emma was smiling just at the thought this giant man was the least bit shy with her. “I’m Canute, by the way.”

“Emma.”

“Well, Emma, it seems you have done a hell of a job at it, even by yourself. I could not have done better without help.”

She only gave him a nod of thanks, it was then she noticed the sun starting to slowly set, she needed to finish before her family came back home.

Noticing the change in her face, Canute offered, “Do you need some help? I could take to the ladder this time and you hand me the strands of lights.”

She knew it would take her much longer to finish the lights around the house, so she agreed. Canute gladly climbed the ladder so she could stay safely on the ground.

Soon they both were laughing as they worked together to put the lights up. Emma marveled at how easy conversation with him was, and was pleased to find he had two boys of his own, currently with their mother until next week. It was nice to talk with someone who understood being a parent by themselves. She figured that being a divorced parent came with its own hardships.

When the lights were finally all assembled, there was nothing else left to do but light it up. They found the extension cords to connect all the outlets, and Emma sighed with happiness when the house sparkled.

Her boys would be so happy when they pulled up and saw their home lite for Christmas.

Noticing how late it had gotten, Emma needed to get inside.

“Would you like to come in?”, she asked Canute.

“Oh no, I won’t take up more of your time. I know you want to see your boys.”

She was so taken back by his insinuating he took up her time. Plus, her sons would not be home for a little while.

“You take up my time? I am the one who fell on top of you, and you so kindly turned around and offered to help me. Please, at least let me make you a hot drink or something.”

“Alright, if you insist.”

Making her way to the house, Canute slowly followed behind her.

They both shivered as they entered her home, the fire in the hearth still warm. Emma went to stoke the flames and get it blazing again. Taking off her jacket, she motioned to the coat rack.

“Please make yourself at home, I am going to go change.”

Canute’s only response was a nod as she made her way to her room.

Her jeans were soaked through from falling in the snow. Changing instead into black leggings and a soft off-white sweater, she added soft socks and instantly felt warmer.

Back in the living room, Canute stood in front of the hearth, his hands seeking the warmth of the fire.

“What can I get you to drink”, she asked him.

“Coffee would be nice, if you have any. Black.”

She was instantly in the kitchen getting the coffee pot ready.

With two steaming cups of coffee in hand, she returned to the living room, passing him the black coffee.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“This is perfect. Thank you.”

Snow started falling outside again, illuminated by the sparkling lights. It was nearly dark, and she was so thrilled she had gotten everything accomplished that she wanted to.

“I honestly cannot thank you enough for your help.”

Canute smiled. “Think nothing of it. You were practically done anyways.”

Both of them casually sipping their coffee, Emma asked. “So why did you move to our little-neck-of-the -woods?”

“A Fire Station Chief position opened up downtown. After years of working the long hours on the fire squad, I figured it was time for a change.”

Emma smiled to herself, he definitely was a man use to climbing ladders and saving people.

“What I would like to know is what kind of husband leaves his wife to climb the ladder by herself to hang lights?”

She was hesitant to answer and curious at the same time—he did not ask out of thinking her incapable, he asked out of clear annoyance she was alone to do it.

“My husband passed away. I just wanted to surprise my sons when they came back.”

As Canute went to take another sip, she noticed his eyes had an understanding glint to them, as if he understood. As a single father himself, she could see the solidarity he shared with her statement. A warm feeling came over her that she was not entirely sure had to do with the crackling fire she stood in front of.

“Well”, he said as his handed her his empty mug, “I should be getting back”

Following him to the door, Emma leaned on the doorframe as he grabbed his coat and made his way back out into the still falling snow. He turned once he made it to the side walk.

“If you ever need help in the future, I am more than happy to be of assistance. Number 17 is my place.”

Emma couldn’t wipe the constant grin form her face, still giddy at the Christmas lights that now shone on the white snow, and the man who had helped her make it possible for her children.

“I will.”

As she watched Canute make his way up the drive and onto the walk back to his house, her brothers van pulled up. Soon two little boys came dashing out, wonder and awe on their faces as they saw the outside of the house.

If the massive hug her boys gave her were any indicator, she was certain she had done the right thing.

Richard was naturally curious as to how she managed the lights, but she would not worry them with her fall, she only told them she had help.

All she wanted was to enjoy this winter night with her sons, decorate the tree with them, and create memories they would remember forever. And maybe let her thoughts drift to the feel of Canute’s hands on her sides, and the way her body had warmed at his gaze.

#canute x emma #emma of normandy #king canute #vikings:valhalla #vikings fanfic

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