#oh and its tipsy thoughts for me because i may get myself some wine

[thisismeracing]

Okayyyy, I’m getting some things done in here and I’ll be back in an hour or so to have thots/tipsy thots night with you guys! 🫶🏾 You can start sending them and I’ll answer everything once Im back *mwah*

[reccyls]

Drink, Get Drunk, and Drown (Victor)

My translation of Victor's story from the drunk collection event:

Victor: And that means... Victor: It's time for the "Appreciate Kate for always being so hardworking!" meeting!

A rose emerged from the magician's wand that Victor held in one hand.

Victor: As thanks for always being so diligent in your role as Fairytale Keeper, I've prepared some delicious wine. Victor: And it's not much, but I've also made some snacks to enjoy with the wine.

Kate: Wow! Everything looks amazing!

Victor's handmade snacks were piled on the table, every last one of them looking delectable.

Victor: It's a reward specifically for you, so make sure to keep this a secret from everyone else.

Kate: Hehe... Sure, got it.

Victor: And with that out of the way, cheers!

As I partook in the wine, Victor brought over some crackers with various toppings.

Victor: Try some of these, if you'd like.

Kate: ! They're good!

Victor: I'm happy you like them.

(Victor really can do anything.)

His work as the queen's aide must be demanding beyond anything I could imagine, way beyond what any normal person could handle. And he supports everyone in Crown, and on top of that he can cook and sew...

(Now that I think about it, this is probably what people mean when they talk about "the perfect person".)

His form as he drank wine, with his hair tucked behind an ear, seemed like something out of a portrait.

Victor: Ah, that's right. How was yesterday's work?

Kate: Oh, that was--

As Victor listened patiently, I told him all sorts of stories, but...

(...Huh?)

Victor's cheeks were flushed ever so slightly red.

Victor: What's the matter?

(I was so caught up in conversation that I didn't notice, but...)

I lifted the bottle of wine, and discovered its contents were empty.

Kate: It's all gone?

Victor: Although I prepared it for you to drink... your conversation was so enthralling that I didn't notice how much I was drinking.

Kate: I don't mind, but are you okay?

Victor: Hmm?

Smoothly, his fingertips stroked across the back of my hand. My hand swayed, causing the wine glass to shake. In the blink of an eye, Victor was now sitting right next to me.

Victor: Your hands are small.

(He'd never approach me like this normally, is it because he's drunk?)

I was approaching tipsiness myself. And the happiness I felt that Victor was getting close to me like this added to the fuzziness of my thoughts.

Kate: Hehe, that tickles.

His fingers tickled as they continued playing with the back of my hand. When I lifted my gaze to meet his, I didn't want to look away again. The faint blush across his handsome face, and the mole right on his lips, everything added to his attractiveness. My tongue was tied because of how seductive he looked. And the way his fingers tapped on my thighs was another provocation.

Victor: ...May I rest my head here?

(He really is drunk after all, I think...?)

Awkwardly, I nodded. Beaming, Victor lay down with his head on my thighs, gazing up at me.

Victor: We've done this before, haven't we?

Kate: ...We have.

(But, this is completely different.)

Victor: Ever since then, I've always thought about maybe doing it again, from time to time.

He closed his eyes as I gently combed my fingers through his hair, his face relaxing.

Kate: ...Just like you've always watched over me as I worked hard, I've been watching you too. I've always been watching. Kate: I used to be so afraid of this place. And now it's somewhere I can feel at peace, all because of you, Victor. Kate: So, you don't have to work hard in front of me. I want you to be your true self.

Looking like he had something he wanted to say, Victor sat up. He gently stroked my cheek. In his eyes, I saw a wave of sorrow-- And before I could react, he had wrapped his arms around me.

Kate: Victor...?

As I sat there frozen, unable to concentrate on anything except the way my heart pounded in my ears, Victor lay down on the couch, still holding me in his arms.

Kate: Um, Vic-

Victor: ...Just a little while. Victor: Let me stay like this, just for a little while longer.

There was loneliness in the way his arms tightened around me. When I realized that, I let myself settle into his arms.

(Someday, if Victor asked me...) (No. I want to be someone he can depend on.)

With that thought in mind, I surrendered to the sleepiness that had crept up on me.

...

When I next opened my eyes, I was in my bed.

(When did I go back?)

That was when I realized that I was wrapped up in a coat.

(This is Victor's.)

The scent of alcohol mixed with the lingering scent of a quiet late night.

(It's like I'm being hugged...)

Recalling what had happened just before I fell asleep, I pulled the coat tigher around myself.

(I should go give this back to him.)

Trying to flee from the heat that would not dissipate, I stood.

...

Roger: Is that Victor's coat?

As I was on my way to Victor's office, Roger called out to me.

Kate: Yes. We were drinking together yesterday, but I fell asleep. I guess he let me use it as a blanket.

Roger: Ah, yeah. He never gets drunk, you know?

Kate: What?

The words stopped me in my tracks.

Roger: Victor's probably got the highest alcohol tolerance among everyone in Crown. Roger: He can down bottle after bottle without getting affected at all. Makes you wonder if he's even human, sometimes.

Victor: Oh my, if it isn't Roger and Kate.

Victor's sudden call from behind me made me jump in surprise.

Victor: You two looked like you were having fun. What were you talking about?

Roger: It's a secret just between the little lady and me.

Roger gave me a smile full of insinuation as he walked off. I was left alone with Victor, clutching his jacket and looking up at him.

Victor: ...Kate?

Childlike innocence was written on his expression, with no trace of the Victor that I saw yesterday.

Kate: I, um... Uh...

(Is this an act? Or...)

In the face of my uncertainty, Victor only smiled gently.

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch.6

ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4 ch.5

Summary: It's backstory time!

Mandatory warning since this is not a usual thing on my blog so I think a separate warning would be useful, there will be talk of past abuse and alcohol abuse.

----

"Wakey wakey," came the gruff voice from just outside her bedroom door.

It was slightly muffled but more than enough to make her jolt awake, muscle memory taking over the remnants of sleep. She only had one minute to be out the door. It was more than enough though, her routine perfected over years. Get out of bed. Put socks on. Get shoes. Grab the duffel bag. She slept dressed anyways, ready to go at any time.

Or not?

Where were her clothes?

Nevermind that she had time to put something on. Just grab a shirt and pants from the dresser.

Hurried steps took her over the plush carpet. Wasn't it supposed to be a solid grey? Had her mother swapped it for one of their fancier rugs?

That didn't matter right now. Clothes. She needed clothes. When she got to her dresser she stood there, frowning at the bookshelf that now took its place. She didn't even remember acquiring the tomes in front of her, most of them old and with unfamiliar trinkets surrounding them. That's not how her bedroom was arranged. Why wasn't anything in its place? Was Alex playing a prank on her? No, he wouldn't do that.

Time was almost up and she needed some goddamn clothes and to get out and her head was starting to spin-

"Nicole?"

Her eyes snapped back to the bed she had so hastily vacated, Cassandra looking at her concerned.

From the room's entrance came another familiar voice. Bela. "I only wanted to let you know that Daniela wants to go for a hunt tomorrow." Her eyes were averted and as soon as the words left her lips, she turned and shut the door behind her, not waiting for an answer from her sister.

Confusion mixed in with dizziness, but Nicole let out a quiet oh when she fully realized where she was. Cassandra's bedroom. They came here last night and fell asleep. And she was only wearing underwear.

She went to sit on the edge of the bed, head resting in her hands to try alleviate the fog in her brain. She probably looked like hell, but that was the least of her concerns right now.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Came the uncharacteristically soft voice of Cassandra, who had moved from her spot under the blankets and was gently rubbing her back.

"Uh, nothing," Nicole replied, as if she didn't look ready to puke.

Cassandra only pursed her lips and frowned. "You looked like you simultaneously saw a ghost and were ready to fight a ghost."

She swallowed thickly and forced out a laugh. "Oh are we at "tragic backstory" relationship level now?" It was at best a pathetic attempt to change the subject and at worst annoying.

When she looked back at the brunette she was still frowning, but not in annoyance. Her golden eyes sparked with concern, scrutinizing the redhead's face and body language for any clue as to what was wrong. It sent a pang of guilt through Nicole's chest. She took a deep breath and leaned back into Cassandra's touch, trying to collect her thoughts. Where does one even begin to explain this whole mess?

"Have you ever wondered why I came here? To the village?"

"...Not really," she admitted.

Nicole took another deep breath, pulling the words from her mouth as if she were pulling out teeth with pliers.

"My dad, he…he had a bit of a weird business. We never knew the details of it, he never told any of us and we knew better than to snoop, but I do know it had something to do with drugs and was highly illegal."

Staying in one place proved itself a pesky little task, so Nicole stood up and started to collect her clothes from the floor and started dressing. Cassandra instead remained in the same spot, listening intently.

"With a job like that you make enemies by default. And that made him paranoid beyond belief. When me and Alex, my older brother, were children it wasn't that bad. Worst thing he would do was lock our bedroom doors and refuse to let us attend public school."

She narrowed her eyes at a wall, still not wanting to meet Cassandra's gaze. Now that she said it out loud, not that bad sounded pretty bad too. Whatever.

"It started going downhill when I was around…" She pursed her lips, trying to make her brain put together some semblance of a timeline. "Twelve. Yeah twelve. He came bursting into our bedrooms at 2 a.m. saying that someone with a gun had gotten into our house and wanted to kill us. We were mortified. I remember my mom holding me and Alex in the backseat crying while my dad drove us to his secluded cabin in the woods."

"And that became a habit of his. He'd have us do these drills every once in a while and then scream at us if we didn't do everything in under a minute."

"That's so fucking stupid," Cassandra spat, golden eyes gleaming with anger.

Nicole started pacing back and forth, desperate for a distraction. "Oh I know. And after a few years of this I made sure to tell him exactly how much I thought it was bullshit."

Finally coming to terms with the lack of something to do while she talked, Nicole gave up and went back to the bed. She sat down by Cassandra's side, though still avoiding her eyes.

"Do you know what getting punched in the face feels like?"

Cassandra's expression contorted into a disgusted grimace. With the hand not on Nicole's back rubbing comforting circles, she dug talons into the soft fabric of a blanket. She didn't really have an answer because frankly she didn't know. Her body reacted very differently to physical harm and the few that could hurt her wouldn't go for a stupid punch to the face. Nicole kept on talking though, not really looking for an answer.

"That shut me up for a bit. Key word a bit. When he woke me up on the night before an important test I was pissed. I just thought fuck it and went upstairs to the library. It took him around twenty minutes to find me and when he did… Well, I regretted some life choices."

"I was so done with being there in that house. Though thankfully my parents went on a business trip the next day and Alex was at a friend's for the weekend. I had the whole house to myself and decided to grab one of my mom's vintage wines and just spend the evening on the couch drinking. And that's how I became an alcoholic at the ripe old age of fifteen." She let out a humorless chuckle at the end.

That day was a blur in her mind. The only thing that she vividly remembered was Alex coming home early and finding her blackout drunk on the couch. At the end of the day though, they were both in the same boat. He just grabbed the bottle from her and started to sip away at the remaining wine. Laughing at each other's hangover the next day was the most fun they'd had in ages so it became a habit for the both of them. Every once in a while they'd go into the wine cellar, pick out a bottle and then go drink it in the attic while they pretended their problems didn't exist. It continued well into their college years. Nicole was barely able to recall doing anything during her years in med school that wasn't being drunk or studying.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. That's not where she meant to go with the story. Cassandra placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder brought her enough comfort to try and wrap it up.

"I guess in a sick ironic way my dad was right in the end though," she subconsciously shifted closer to the brunette and she wasted no time in loosely wrapping her arms around Nicole's waist.

"I was three weeks away from completing my residency when I came home from the lab, only to find my mom in a puddle of blood on the living room floor. My brother was in a similar state in his bedroom. My dad was nowhere to be found but I didn't care. It was his fault," she swallowed the lump in her throat and felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"I just grabbed my documents and a duffle bag with some clothes and ran. Booked the first flight to Romania to come stay at my grandparents'. Oh except they know what my dad is all about! Told me I had an hour to get some rest and be out of their house as they didn't want any trouble with my dad's people."

"I did grab a fuck ton of my dad's cash though so at least hotels weren't an issue," her words were coming out chocked, occasionally interrupted by sniffles. She rapidly whipped a hand across her face. "Have you ever been to Braşov? Old part of the city is quite lovely."

Cassandra grimaced. She didn't want to interrupt, but seeing Nicole in such a state made something in her unbeating heart ache. She gently wiped the trail of tears from her cheeks and placed a kiss on her temple from where she was sitting half behind Nicole. Then, with the softest voice she could muster, "And how did you meet Duke?"

Nicole's eyes widened slightly, apparently having forgotten that detail.

"Oh I stumbled upon his shop one day. I thought he was selling some neat stuff and he was nice so I kept coming back. One thing led to another and when I found out about a place off the map where no one gets in or out without help I thought it would be the perfect place to hide from the people trying to put a bullet through my head." Then she winced slightly. "I was also mildly tipsy when I made that decision."

Cassandra looked a little incredulous. "And he just brought you here?"

"I paid him."

Cassandra's expression turned to what could only be described as disappointed but not surprised. Then her attention went back on the redhead, glossy eyes fixated on the floor. To say she sucked at comforting others was an understatement. Daniela was far more well versed in the art of making others not feel miserable but she was nothing if not stubborn enough to try.

"Listen," she shifted to sit in front of her, hand placed gently on a wet cheek. "If anyone ever dares come near you with the intention of harming you, I'll make them regret every life choice that led them there. You're safe here." She may not be great with her words, but if Cassandra excelled in anything, it was keeping her loved ones safe. Loved one huh.

Nicole leaned into her touch, finally meeting Cassandra's eyes. There was a gentle kind of determination in her golden gaze, accompanied by a fiery rage that, for once in her life, brought comfort as opposed to terror. It came with the knowledge that it wasn't directed at her but at whoever may want to harm her.

She didn't doubt her words. Instead she shifted closer, face nuzzled in the crook of Cassandra's neck and, barely above a whisper, said: "Thank you."

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Twenty | Ooo I Ooo I Ooo I Ooo I (Part 2 of 2 | His POV) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Song Referenced

• • •

did he give you an exact date?

Unfortunately, no.

At first, I had at least until the end of the year, but…

CPS wants this resolved quicker than he thought.

guessin' you need to finish tourin' the underground first then, right?

Yes.

Would it be possible the day after tomorrow?

Or just… sometime this weekend?

I can go by myself, but…

Asgore won't allow that unless I'm with someone else.

Says I shouldn't be walking so far and so long alone if I haven't recovered yet.

you don't need to go alone, either way.

be it my job or not, I still wanna help out.

so the day after tomorrow's fine with me, bud.

we can discuss those details better when we drive over to tori's school tomorrow.

Are you sure?

And…

Does that 'we' imply you'll be picking us up?

100%

but yeah, i'll drive you guys there.

and pick up paps on the way, too.

it's easier for all four of us.

Mhm.

don't believe me?

Oh, I believe you.

I just don't think that's the only reason why you're picking us up, when I already have the address.

so what's the other one?

Don't get cocky, Serif.

I'm not gonna type that out.

It's a godsend Frisk will be with us, too.

'Cause I sure don't trust being alone with you anymore.

inna bad way?

Nah.

niiice.

pick you guys up tomorrow, then?

Yes.

We'll see you tomorrow.

And thank you in advance.

∆ Sticker | Happy Cartoon Bunny™ waving goodbye ∆

"You've changed, Sans."

He ignores that comment to view (Y/N)'s last two messages again.

While he doesn't know why that particular sticker bothers his mind so much, a few scrolls up to revise his chat history with the human reveal this is the first time they've shown any sort of informality or spontaneity in their typing. (Y/N) came off cold in their texts, though -- based on how they acted outside of a chat app -- that wasn't their intention, but more of an automatic way for them to talk with someone they didn't exactly deem trustworthy enough yet. He grins at that thought and feels his face warm up, something he confirms when touching his cheekbone, cold palm contrasting with that heat.

"You're wasting your time with that human," Drunk Bun says, snapping him out of his daydreaming.

They've sat themselves on the bar stool next to him and slam what looks like their tenth can of cheap, off-brand beer against the counter, crunching it down into more than half its size. He doesn't know how long they've stood there or why he's lost this much awareness of his surroundings. The bar's practically empty and calm now compared to before, though there's loud music blaring from the jukebox, playing an already overplayed song on repeat. There's no excuse for his distracted mind other than having lost himself while texting with the human, so he admits that fault with partial sourness, against accepting he's that smitten with them.

"You're changing for the worse," his company adds, narrowing their eyes at him. "Every time we come here to catch up, you mention something stupid about that (L/N) person, or just text the whole evening away with them. I... I've never seen you worry so much about someone so inconsequential." They scoff and cross their arms tight. "I may understand you caring after Frisk as a way to repay them for rescuing us, but (L/N) is completely useless. They've done absolutely nothing remarkable beyond creating a huge scene at that bus you were both on."

"Being harassed by a rando and faintin' after's them causin' a scene?" Sans asks, quirking an eye socket.

"Oh, screw off, bone boy -- You know what I mean. They've brought you nothing but trouble and needless responsibilities!" The bunny grits their teeth and slams their hand over the table, dragging eyes to their side. "I'm betting you can't go a day without texting them or without you doing something for them."

"You need to-"

Beep-beep.

The phone is snatched from his hands just as quick as that noise rings.

"Give that back."

"No." They keep the phone right above him, taking advantage of his shorter height. "Your fault for not putting a lock on it."

Drunk Bun scoots away and holds the phone tight as they fumble with it. Then, they stop to look at what he assumes is another text message from the human. A grimace shows on their face and they grasp the device tight, enough to make the screen complain and warn them over the pressure they're exerting against it. "Now this is beyond pathetic, Sans," they comment, letting out a loud, burst laugh. "Is this seriously the one you're sacrificing your entire personality for?" They give him his phone back, though not before hesitating when it's time to let go. "That human is-"

"Gimme a sec."

His attention falls on the picture displayed on screen, revealing (Y/N) and Frisk posing in it. The adult wears a suit and tie while the child has Toriel's school uniform on. The former's pose appears forced and awkward while the latter seems to be the reason the picture was taken with how excited they seem about their outfit.

Frisk wanted me to show you this.

It's what we'll be wearing for tomorrow!

There's a three-minute interval between that and the next message.

I know classes still haven't started there, but… They wanted to wear it, so I joined them by trying on something special for, well…

That job offer you told me about.

I don't know if I'll accept or not yet, but…

Thank you for the opportunity, and for believing in me.

∆ Sticker | Happy Cartoon Bunny™ giving a thumbs-up ∆

"You're grossing me out, honestly. What kind of look is that?"

It takes him a while to react, focus glued on (Y/N)'s messages.

"What look?"

"That lovesick look on your face." Tears form on their eyes -- almost abruptly, hadn't their voice shaken right before that. "I- I've been flirting with you for years, and yet you've never once looked at me like that before." They stand up straight, stare down at him, and rest their hands on the table, blinking their tears away throughout. "I've known you for so damn long, and yet you fall for the first human you see up here? I-"

"So that's what this's about," he says, chuckling. "You're-"

"Don't you dare brush everything off as me having a crush on you, Sans." They hiss. "You're not the same as before, and that's as clear as day. You worry a lot more now, and… And you actually seem to care more about other stuff beyond your job and sleeping on it. Y- You-"

"Aren't those good things?"

"Maybe, but your entire personality changing isn't. I liked you better when you were less worked up with stuff that's none of your business." They stop to grab his phone again; a grin breaks the sorrow on their face. "But hey, y- you're just doing your job, aren't you? You should set things straight with that human and remind them you're only with them because Asgore told you to in that agreement letter you gave them."

"Won't work if I flirted with 'em first. Pretty sure they'll see right through my lies."

"Y- You flirted with them first?!"

"Yeah."

He dodges a punch aimed right at his face.

"Wait-"

They throw a second punch -- this one turning out to be a spoof -- and laugh at the sight of him falling for it; they then toss the phone high over his head after he's finished dodging that fake attack, and aim yet another punch right after.

He salvages the device, though at the cost of taking the blow right on his left eye socket.

"How can you admit that so easily? You're awful!"

"'Cause you're only a close friend. I don't owe you an explanation about who I'm dating, and even less if you're gonna be actin' this way."

Drunk Bun springs at him, only to be held back by the rest of the regulars sitting near the scene, sufficiently fast enough for them not to wrangle Sans in anything major. They struggle and thrash at everyone around, trying to break free, but failing each time. It takes a fully-armored guard dog and a buff bear for them to be fought back into their rightful place, and yet another strong monster for them to let go of a wine bottle they insist on downing when seated.

Grillby intervenes as well by warning them to calm down, unless they want to be kicked out. Meanwhile, Sans turns on the camera and looks at his reflection through it, revealing a faint soreness already forming around his eye socket -- right where his companion had punched at. Being primarily made out of bones brought advantages, but having magical properties often led to him bruising easily.

Another regular approaches him and offers him a first aid kit, one he brings back to his seat to heal himself there.

While he takes out an antibiotic and some cotton pads with one hand, he uses the other to busy himself with (L/N)'s messages, against leaving them on read for so long.

no probs.

here at your service.

frisk looks great, btw.

and you? hot. 😘🔥

awkwardly hot.

hotwkward.

Frisk is reading the replies, you know?

damn.

i mean…

darn.

don't tell 'em i said that.

∆ Audio | 0:46 ∆

He clicks on it to hear Frisk giggling along with (Y/N) commenting they won't. It later continues with them asking if he's alright, specifying what they mean by highlighting a picture, this one sent by him. Blurriness makes up most of it when he clicks on it and zooms in, yet he can identify what looks like his companion from earlier, who'd apparently snapped and sent the human a photo by accident.

that's a friend o' mine.

they're, uh, kinda tipsy, so they got inna fight with me.

Really?

Are you okay?

yeah, just a lil' sore where they punched at.

What?!

i'm fine, puddin'.

dw about it.

Where's that bar at?

I'm near the mall, so I can drop by if you need anything.

aren't you still shoppin'?

take it easy.

I'm almost done.

Just trying out one more outfit.

can I see?

👀

Sure.

∆ Attachment | 2 images ∆

To his surprise, they're not only posing much more freely now, but they've also made the effort to strike another pose from a different angle. The human's outfit is composed of a dark green, semi-formal (suit/dress), fit for a night out. They've gone as far as to edit a wink emoji and some hearts at the corner of one -- the most flirty of the two.

So...

What do you think?

*jaw drops to floor, irises pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets, soul beats out of rib cage, awooga awooga sound effect, pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out, slams fists on table, rattling any plates, bowls or silverware, whistles loudly, fireworks shoot from top of head, pants loudly as tongue hangs out of teeth, wipes comically large bead of sweat from forehead, clears throat, straightens jacket, combs skull* ahem, you look real lovely.

*bwushes* Thank uwu kindwy, handswome. I'm vewy fwattewed.

...frisk ain't there anymore, right?

If they wewe, duwu uwu twhink I'd be twyping wike thiws?

faiw poiwnt.

Anyway…

I noticed the changes you made in that copy-paste, and…

You didn't edit the tongue part out.

So…

What that tongue do, baby?

😳

…lick…

...ice cream.

🔥🔥🔥

Ah, that's hot.

Or should I say cold?

And speaking of cold…

I'm gonna get you an ice pack or something.

You should take care of where it's sore, if you don't want it to bruise more.

whatta way to change the subject away from our moment, puddin'.

but uh, thanks in advance.

Anytime, teddy bear.

uwu

owo

• • •

"Am I really changin', Grillbs?" Sans asks, emptying his beer in three long gulps. "Be honest with me."

The one questioned takes the empty can from his hands and shakes his head in what looks more like disapproval rather than him answering that question. He first warns the skeleton about getting drunk, and reminds him to stay sober if he wants an answer as well as prevent himself from drunk-texting the source of his lovelorn self. When receiving a promise from him in response, he later answers with a 'no' and that he's still the same whenever he came to visit the bar.

"So I'm only different when I'm talkin' about 'em?"

Grillby nods.

"Inna bad way?"

He shakes his head.

"Then…"

Sans is stopped with a hand over his and faced with a stern look, despite the owner of it having no eyes or mouth.

"If they make you happy, then it's alright for you to show it," a regular states, intervening in the conversation. "You're not a lifeless machine. And nobody's one-dimensional either, so you shouldn't force yourself to act the same, strict way all the time. If you want to be all mushy with that human, then so be it. Aren't you the one who always says stuff like 'nothing really matters; in the end, we'll all die'? What's stopping you now of all times? Where's that hardcore nihilist I've known since years ago?

Sans rubs the back of his neck and huffs.

Clearly, neither the regular nor Grillby understood what he truly meant to say with his questions. He didn't mind his relationship with the human, but he also didn't want his old self to be replaced by someone he wasn't, as a result. There were things he didn't want to change about his old self -- things he feared would fade away now that he seemed to be getting into something as complex as a romantic relationship. There were parts of him he needed to keep in case the world were to start over again -- in case something went wrong. He couldn't allow himself to grow soft.

A pat on his shoulder lets him know he's lost himself in those thoughts.

"It's alright to fear change, but don't let that hold you back. If you like that human and they do, too -- Then what's there keeping you from going for it?"

It's not that easy.

Still, he keeps that thought quiet and replies with, "Thanks, but I'll probably have to give that more ti-"

The door of the bar opens to reveal someone new to it, but not so much unknown to Sans, who already finds himself distracted by them. (Y/N) stands in front of the entrance, looking this way and that. Frisk holds on to their hand, while a reusable shopping bag's hung over their parent's arm; a pharmacy's logo and name can be seen stamped on it. The eldest human approaches the area with caution, until their child assures them -- once, twice, and then thrice -- they've been to this place before and that it serves other purposes beyond that of providing alcohol and provoking fights. When they look forward, he meets their eyes and tries to glance away quickly, only to be called out by them soon after. They don't take long to smile wide and bright, wave, and -- finally -- approach his side after he waves back at them.

Rather than giving him whatever's in the bag, they instead let go of Frisk's hand, ask them if they want anything to eat, and give them some money when they sign the word 'fries'. Then, they sit on the stool next to his and settle the bag on their lap. "Come closer, and close your eye sockets," they say, still smiling. "It's your left one, right? It looks really sore already."

He nods and tries to ignore the warmth in his soul when they place a hand over his.

In his favour, they let go of him not long after to disinfect their hands and slip some gloves on when these dry out.

"I-"

"Shh."

(Y/N) holds his chin with their hand and grazes their fingers against his injury, their touch slow and careful as they apply some antibiotic over and around it. They then slide an eye patch on him and assumedly check around for any more bruises, based on the feeling of their hands grazing against his torso, arms, and neck. "The ice pack's in the bag -- Remember to throw it in the freezer when you get home." They touch his chest again, even more gentle this time. "So..." He notices some hesitance when they pull their hand back. "You're not hurt anywhere else?"

He shakes his head, words caught in his throat.

"Alright, but don't look yet."

Doing as told, Sans waits for whatever comes next. He stays still and stiff, until he feels their lips brush close to his eye socket, where they lay a soft, ticklish kiss at. They do the same with his other one and finish it off by kissing his nose cavity.

"Now you can."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

...

......

🌋🔥💥 ANNOYING NOTICE TIME ��🔥🌋

So, here's a summary of all the events happening this month, which will affect Fairytale Complex's update schedule in various ways:

1. I will be rewriting all my other fics that aren't FaiCom, since I'm pretty darn happy and proud of the new writing style I've developed with this fanfic, and so I want to implement it into my older stories (with the exception of the Tom Nook x Reader one -- I'm rewriting that one despite being recent because it started off as a wild, 3 am energy project after finishing with finals, but then I actually had way more fun than I originally anticipated, so I'll be turning it into a long fic just like this one, lol). This means FaiCom will be taking a short, 1 to 2 week break after Arc 2 (Chapter 25) ends, to dedicate some time to all 4 of these stories.

2. I'm taking extracurricular classes/hobby workshops this summer, so I need to tweak my schedule again. This means FaiCom will be changing its schedule back to the old one, composed of weekly updates on Mondays, Wednesdays, and/or Fridays.

3. As mentioned previously, Pride Month is here, so I'll be making some one-shots and drabbles related to it, meaning updates might be slightly less frequent this month. BUT, a good majority of them are FaiCom related ones (and they will be posted on a different book to avoid conflicting with regular updates, too). More on that later on!

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

@timelock97

@candle-creeps

@paperb9gs

@merak0

[aggresivelyfriendly]

‘Tis the Damn Season- Chapter 2

Winter Wonderland

Hello loveys! Here is chapter two, a new year, a new world, a new Harry video! Thank you to @dirtystyles for fixing my tenses, which I promptly messed up by revising and adding. All remaining mistakes are mine.

Happy reading- reblogs are love!

Emma was annoyed before she even caught her flight, but she loved airports, so she got lost in watching the peculiar things people did in the there to sublimate what was probably just anxiety. She'd once watched a boys' trip, maybe a bachelor party, get on a plane and begin toasting at 5:30 am. The groom had almost bought the whole plane a round, but one of his mates had stopped him. She assumed this wasn't his first beer of the day, but maybe it was the last of the night before?

People acted different in airports.

That had been her first flight to Holland. When she went to her interview at Wageningen University and Research Center. She really needed to impress, she'd pressed her outfit more than she had ironed anything since she'd been taught to do it. This was her dream school and the climate research they did was groundbreaking and she wanted to be part of it so much that she was willing to do whatever it took. Beyond the heavy course load she could expect during the regular school years, the top students got amazing summer work or internships. She'd promised herself she would not be going home for breaks for some time. Honestly she was just fine with that. There wasn't much left for her in Holmes Chapel.

There wasn't much in Holmes Chapel at all.

She'd wanted to move from the little village the minute they'd moved there when she was eleven. Sure it was cute, picturesque and maybe something out of a Jane Austen novel, but Emma did not read much Pride and Prejudice. Though she definitely had seen Mr. Darcy come out of the pond. Honestly, she was more of a nonfiction girl, and she like investigative reporting. She'd missed London pretty much immediately and begged to go back for months. It was a time in her life she would have called the absolute worst, until it became the foundation for the best years. Emma made really good, motivated friends. Big dreams were common in little Holmes Chapel, so Emma fit right in. It may have never felt like home exactly, but she made a home of those friends.

Gemma was one of them. She had done her share of Austen reading. Reading in general, and she had the sweetest family. Her little brother Harry was so nice to their mum, though he loved nothing more than bugging Gemma. Like all little brothers. She'd heard at least, Emma was an only child.

All her parents' hopes and dreams rested right on her shoulders.

But theirs weren't nearly so weighty as her own. Even then she knew she was going to save the planet, or at the very least reduce the number of climate refugees.

Now, after two summers in Reykjavik, she was more into sustainable energy and zero waste production, but she was still trying to change the climate game.

She would really rather be going back to Iceland now. A friend had invited her to see the Northern Lights. They were most active in the winter and she'd only caught glimpses of them during her summer internships. It may have been the experience of a lifetime.

But her mother had laid on a major guilt trip. Emma hadn't been back to little Holmes Chapel in two years. She'd come home that first Christmas because she was tired, overwhelmed, still adjusting to her school schedule, and a little homesick. Her mother told her so. She'd even skipped the Twist's Christmas party, which was the shindig of the season. She'd slept right through it, and only seen Gemma at the pub later. She hadn't been up for company, but Gemma was family.

This year? After a year's absence, she'd be going. And she'd receive the hometown-hero-returns treatment. Though she was sure her reception at the airport would consist of her mum with a single sign. When she did make it to the pub, she might see a few friendly faces besides Gemma. Last time? Since she'd missed the party, she didn't have anything to contribute to the discussion. She'd just listened to everybody else rehash it. Normally, that would be fine, but she already felt removed, and had always felt a bit like a screw among nails in Holmes Chapel, so she was determined to go to the party this year. She had all kinds of plans, how many hours she'd socialize, rest, and read.

The flight was easy at least, and the train up to Manc doubly so. She liked to sleep on trains, something about the rocking, and she resumed her old habit of sleeping wrapped around her backpack.

"Welcome home, love!" Her mother shouted and Emma actually got a little misty, just like her Mum. Maybe she should try to get home more than once a year, but there's just so much she wants to accomplish. She even had a list. All the things she wanted to do before she turned thirty. It's been revised of course, she'd not unrealistic. Once the list is complete, she can have a life outside her ambitions, like a real boyfriend.

There's not much time for anything but hook-ups for the next ten years., and Emma was ok with that.

Up til now. She might need another pass at her bullet points, or to at least read her goals again when she got to the Twist's new brick beauty of a house. Harry had bought his mum a new home, one not watched as closely by his obsessive fans. They hadn't found this one yet.

Emma could see why they followed him around so, and why some people risked it all for a certain face. His face, his very famous, gorgeous face.

It was so weird that Harry wasn't just Gemma's little brother who grew up cute anymore. His music wasn't really her style, though some of the songs were catchy and Emma did like his latest album. She caught herself humming about life stories long after she heard it, and she seemed to hear his latest single playing in lots of shops and restaurants, even in Holland.

At the party, she also found herself in the same room as Harry more often than she can find an excuse for. Her eyes also seemed to find him a lot, she knew because of how many times she had to whip her head away quickly. As a tactic, that didn't work because he was always either already looking at her,or he immediately turned like he knews where she was. Maybe her gaze had weight, or she was as subtle as an axe.

When he smirked at her the tenth time their eyes lit upon each other, she choked on her wine.

What the fuck?

She'd finally got herself calmed from that little encounter. Mostly because she left the room to find a loo. The water she splashed on her face was cold and woke her up. "What are you doing, girl?" Emma asked her reflection but found that she couldn't help but smile at herself, and bite her lip. The flush on her cheeks was lovely; she could blame the wine, everyones favorite excuse.

An hour later she was pleasantly tipsy, the kind of buzz you could maintain and still wake up the next day not regretting, and she'd gone to the kitchen to grab another glass to nurse her merry state. "Be right back. We need another round!" She was calling back to Gemma when she bumped into a tall lanky body. She caught his hips with one hand and found them with just enough give to grip. "Oof!" She exclaimed before looking up to see how much damage her wine had done. Good thing she drank white, there was a growing spot ok his sweater. Wait a second! Then she coasted her head up the lovely lilac sweater toward his face. "That's my sweater." She said first off, bopping his chin.

"Um, no, mine now." Oh, his voice was adorably thick with drink too. "You give it to Gem or something?"

What was he talking about? Her eyes stayed with his and she was kinda trapped in his greens when she realized he meant the sweater. She had, right. "I'm yeah, years ago. Was my favorite and we shared it a lot. I decided she should have it before I moved. And I guess she decided you should have it when you moved. Though I expect your life change was a little different than mine. Yours was like overnight and mine a life long plan, and oh my god, Emma stop talking." She would have kept rambling except, well, he kissed her, right on the mouth and held his overfilled lips to her own. No, overfilled wasn't true. They were full, but not crazy big, they just were so plump at the edges. God, when had she thought about Harry's lips so much.

Right now, as much as she could think of anything, it was Harry's lips. She'd relaxed into his rhythm and was following his lead when her free hand took on a mind of its own and coasted from his hips up his back and into his hair. He groaned a little before he disengaged and then chuckled.

"Well," he said as the offending hand went to her mouth. Maybe she did need to stop drinking. That was bold, unlike her, and strange. But wait! What just happened? Why did he kiss her?.

"Huh?"

"I think that beat my last mistletoe kiss and I'd convinced myself that was impossible!" He was giving her a knowing look, like a wink in his smile. Did he kiss somebody else tonight? She looked up at him and tried not to be annoyed, or feel jealous, or focus on the shape of his mouth, still a little wet from her kiss. Was he just hanging out by the mistletoe like a weirdo? Seemed odd for a bloke people were lining up to meet, let alone kiss.

"Why'd you do that?" She found her voice to ask. It was rusty, like she hadn't just been laughing and talking for hours with people she'd forgotten how much she enjoyed.

"You bumped into me under the mistletoe. I assumed you wanted me to." Well, she did while he was kissing her, but now he was being a bit of an ass.

"Um, you were just in the way..."

"Well, I'll have to find myself in your path as often as possible then." Ok, that was cute, a bit cocky, like the smirk on his face. Then his face flushed and his dimples were so deep and she decided that shift, from smirky pop star to hometown mumma's boy was the best quick change she had ever seen. "Ah, see, that got you to smile!" He bopped her nose and she knew her own dimple pressed in even further.

"Nah, you're a little shit, but I like your smile. Especially when you blush." The color he turned then made her laugh out loud. She felt drunk when she realized how long they'd been staring at each other grinning. She was counting her drinks a second later when he caught her off guard again.

"Where'd you just go?"

"Wha'?" Oh boy, she'd dropped her t, she was really home now.

"We were having a moment." He motioned between their faces. "Then you went in your head. Lost your attention, didn't like it at all."

Then he caught her hand, their fingers entwined together like their lips moments before. It was hot in there. Emma shook her head and glanced around, but she didn't untangle them. She looked at her boots and felt shy. But Emma wasn't shy, Harry used to be shy, though now he was bolder than her, apparently.

"Listen," he started and she looked up to his eyes again. When had they gotten so attractive? What had gone on with him in the last couple years? Other than the international superstardom she supposed, but he'd grown into himself, like expanded his skin and presence. He was cute, but all she could think was that the end of puberty was rarely so damn kind. His fingers even seemed attractive, long and slim and she was imagining him playing piano, but then the instrument was her body, and damn, she was in her head again. She could feel that her eyes widened comically. She knew her pupils were blown. When was the last time she'd gotten laid? Apparently too long if holding hands had her imagining unspeakable things and holding in moans.

He smirked then, she guessed he knew where she went then. "Listen," he leaned in close and she nodded, their noses brushed. He exhaled and her lips tingled. "Where are you staying?"

"Huh?" She wasn't sure what she'd expected him to say, but that wasn't it.

He giggled, and it was cute enough that Emma felt a splash of awareness hit her face. She looked around to see if anybody saw them flirting if she could disengage her gaze. "Are you at your parents?"

"Oh, um yeah?"

"Are you sure?" He laughed then and the brush of his thumb across the back of her hand was warmer than the mulled wine in her belly.

"No, I'm sure, just not sure why you are asking." She nudged him and realized a bit too late that her nipples touched him first, she was only half sorry this top meant no bra when she felt the friction.

It was his eyes' turn to widen. "Um," he exhaled and she missed his eyes when he quickly glanced down her dress like there might be a cookie there and then up quickly like he remembered he wasn't supposed to have any sweets. "Ok, um," he said after he visibly took hold of himself, "I was just hoping you had a room above the pub or something."

She knew her face called him idiot better than her mouth could.

He rolled his eyes, "I know, it was a shot in the dark!"

"Did you expect me to slide you my room key if I did?" Emma flashed her eyebrows like she wasn't imagining him finger fucking her with his piano hands a moment ago. "Isn't that your move?" She teased, kind of. She imagined he knew his way around hotel rooms, and women in them.

"Heeeey," he was being cute but the corners of his eyes dropped a moment and the green dulled. "It's not like that."

Emma scoffed.

"Well, I mean," his other hand found hers and now if anyone was watching them they were getting a show. "If it was like that, I wouldn't say no, but just want to hear about Holland, seems so amazing, and where you are in the summers..."

She could see him racking his brain.

"Iceland." They said together. And then giggled together too.

"You been keeping tabs on me?" She leaned forward and enjoyed the brush of him on her again. He shivered.

"Yeah, always admired you." He looked at her through his lashes. "I'd like to hear more reasons you're the most impressive person I've ever met."

"But I don't have a place." She reminded him.

"If I got one?"

"What?" She thought she knew what he was asking, but she wanted a minute to think about her answer, to quiet the resounding YES that echoed in her body and her mind. Because he might have said it wasn't like that, but they were chest to chest and had been holding hands since they kissed moments ago.

He looks down chagrined at his pigeon toes, before his gaze lit on their hands, then her face. "If I got a room at the Vicarage? Would you come with me? Really! We can really just talk." He assured and then the cocky boy who found his stride in hotel room assignations showed out, "if you want." Those dimples were deadly.

"Can it be the Boar's Head?" She knew she'd showed her cards, by asking for a room the town over.

He nodded and grinned like he'd just hit the hotpicks. "It can be the Boar's Head." He nodded like a dashboard bobble head. "I have to make nice here a bit longer, but I'll call now, and put your name on, so you can go when you're ready."

They'd been standing close for just a few more seconds when Gemma said- "Harry! Get off. God you are such a flirt!" But she was in her cups too, so they laughed it off.

The next hour, Emma stayed near Gem, but her eyes tracked Harry. Once, he came by and stole a sip of Gem's cocktail off her and Emma was glad her friend's ire distracted her, because Emma was watching him giggle like a fiend and the contraction of his throat. When their eyes met, she knew hers made a promise. One she wanted to keep.

So now she was alone in a couple of quaint rooms a town over, waiting to have sex with Gemma's little brother, Harry Styles.

She was torn, half of her wanted to open the bottle she'd swiped from the alcohol table at the party. The other half wanted to call an Uber and go back to her parents' house, where she should have stopped and grabbed some clothes so she wouldn't have to do the walk of shame.

But getting clothes would have meant forethought; she will deny that, especially to herself.

Emma had just opened the uber app and cursed their rural area when she heard a key in the lock.

Like a gun at the races.

They were never going to just talk. She'd just dropped her phone on the couch before Harry laid the first kiss on her.

The first kiss she planned to really remember, that is. Their mistletoe kiss had caught her off guard enough that she could only remember the feelings, not the details.

Yet, she was here, kissing him in a rented room after sneaking out of his mum's Christmas Eve party, on the strength of those feelings.

The kiss started strong and sweet, just like she takes her tea. He didn't taste like tea, he tasted like wine, Merlot maybe, but it could have been any red. And his tongue had this delicious slither to couple with its intoxicating flavor. She was in for a penny when she rode over here, but now there was no way she was going anywhere but to bed with him, no matter how pound foolish. He was nipping at her bottom lip and mouthing at her jaw before he sucked an almost mark into her collarbone and love bites onto the sides of her neck. He was just about to hit a particular sweet spot while working off her clothes, his hands were at her zipper. The cheeky boy, and she felt like they should at least hit pause even if stop was off the table.

"Harry," she moaned, or breathed, it was a sound she'd never made before.

"Hmmm?" He asked without stopping any of his forward momentum.

"I thought we were gonna talk." That one was like a laugh, there was a trill in her voice certainly.

"We'll talk afterwards." He said it like a statement, but looked to her for confirmation. At her nod, her skirt dropped and his hands were all over her bare ass above the stockings she'd worn to feel sexy but hadn't expected anyone to see. She normally would have worn tights. Thick ones, certainly, in Amsterdam. It would have been smarter here too. It was at least as cold. She'd been feeling that mix of confidence and self consciousness one gets when seeing people from your past when you think you've leveled up. She wanted to feel her best, look her best. Sexy, even if no one was interested. She's thankful, both for his interest and her unintended preparation. When he caught the sides of her knickers while her shirt and bra were as untouched as his clothes, she figured she needed to get with it. She'd been clutching his shoulders and his gorgeous hair instead of doing anything of use to their current pursuit.

Emma pulled at his shirt until it came over his messed up disheveled hair and laughed at the hodge podge of black ink haphazardly spread over his torso and one arm. "What's this then?" She said between licks of his tongue.

"After, we talk after!" He'd gotten her shirt unwrapped. She liked that detail of the shirt too, a sexy secret, like her matching bra. He pulled back to stare and was distracted long enough for her to give him another look over. He does look sexy in his decorated skin.

"What do they mean?" She liked things to make sense, her world was ordered, scientific.

Harry shrugged. "Lots of different things. Or nothing. Now can we please go to bed and we can discuss my stupid tattoos after I've had you."

"Oh fuck,'' was all she could say to that. He smirked and hoisted her up his hips to carry her through the open frame to the bedroom. He pulled her knickers free as soon as she was done bouncing.

She'd just about caught her breath when she saw him go for the button of his jeans. She lost it again when his thick bulge became visible and he pushed his tight jeans forcibly down his thighs. "Damn!" She looked at him with a glint.

He mounted the bed and spread her open, kissed her right knee over her stocking, which he seemed intent in keeping on, and looked pointedly at her center. She was swollen, his eye contact with the evidence didn't help. "Damn!" He echoed and she would have laughed but Harry, Gemma's sexy little brother, was kissing up her right thigh, with just a few licks and nips to her hip creases and so damn close to where she wanted him before he was testing the fuck out of her by kissing and licking and loving her left thigh. Ignoring her desperate need.

"Fuck, Harry. Please." She'd got the bedspread balled in her hands and she would normally have removed that before considering getting into the bed but she was also usually in pajamas and alone.

The filthy things he was saying were way worse than whatever could have been on the bedspread. Though she enjoyed them a great deal more, and it made her happy to have taken off everything already.

Harry had finally gotten to the main course. Only After her begging got loud enough to be heard by the room next door and the innkeeper, she won't make eye contact with anyone tomorrow. Maybe not even Harry, if he stayed. Emma had his full attention now, she could learn about all the things his mouth could do. The wet flat of his tongue caressed her like she was a bit of deliciousness and sunk down to find her creamy center.

"Fuck!" She yelped when he sealed his mouth over her for a tight suck and rub until she was rolling and writhing and fighting against the arms banded around her thighs. He laid one across her belly to hold her down.

"Do you like that?" He kept going because her answer was obviously yes. When the arm not restraining her passion made its piano fingered way between her thighs to do the thing she'd imagined earlier, sliding in tightly where she was wet and wanting, she clenched down on his three fingers and said his name.

He slid up her body and reached for the condom, but Emma had gotten her head back around to stop him before he got it on. She hated the taste of rubbers, and she'd like to know his flavor first. "Wait." She leaned forward between his legs and stroked him base to tip. He really was well favored, and not just from the neck up. She pressed his length to his stomach and licked the seam from his balls around and up to his head before she got a mouthful of him. Now he was her dessert. She didn't even think to try the pies and things at the party, she had been so preoccupied with the taste she'd had of him. It was but an appetizer for this. He leaked on her tongue and she moaned and hummed.

"Jesus! Emma! Stop, I'm gonna!" He pushed her back. And she was a little mad he'd taken away her sweetie. "Enough. I'd like to get inside you."

That was a suggestion she could take. So, she lay back and thought of anything but England while he stroked his skinned cock and spat over the tip. God. The way his stomach flexed caused an aftershock to recapture her. "Harry?" His name a plea. His knees hit the bed and her heels pressed him toward her, toward them.

"God, I've never seen you like this!" She'd have to ask him what he meant by that, later. Then he nodded, using his thumb to press his cock head inside the tight ring of muscle at the top of her entrance. Except he was a little low.

"Uhh!" She glanced down and grabbed him to redirect. "Wrong one." She tried not to laugh.

"Sorry, might be a touch too eager." He confessed: She's now laughing, openly. "Hey! It may have went right in, as wet as you are?"

Now she'd be indignant if he wasn't so ridiculous. "Are you really complaining about how wet my pussy is?"

"No, no, that would make me an idiot right?" He asked and found the right spot to start pushing in.

This was always her favorite part, and since this was her favorite fuck already, she knew the pop when he got the lip of his head in would be enough to begin her tip over the edge.

She moaned even before he caught the exact right angle to square her desire and she clutched his back and lifted her bottom to chase his withdrawal. "It would, god, you're perfect, an idiot."

"Oh God, Em!" She liked that. And the kisses to her mouth and chin and neck. Messy and wet and out of control. He'd gone from deliberate and self possessed to a man overcome as he rolled his hips up and into her and against that delicious place inside.

"Harry, don't stop. I'm close." Her head fell back when he slowed down just enough to draw out her orgasm, bring it to the surface and ride it home. He stroked her through and then brought his hands under her ass to lift her pelvis up to his driving thrusts, more deliberate and direct than the ones he used to get her off. She watched his face scrunch, and then open, his jaw down and his eyes closed until he smiled and licked his lips.

It's that face she decided she wanted to see as much as she could.

And she did, it was made better when he bit his lip and laughed. "Am I a perfect idiot then?"

She was blissed out and couldn't stop herself saying, "no you're an idiot with a perfect cock!" He was just pulling out of her then, and she was so embarrassed when he stood up to tie off the condom and preened.

"Am I now?"

She was the idiot. "I'll Pay you to forget I said that!" Emma wants to scurry to the bathroom and get out of here. She's already feeling shame, may as well get the walk over with.

"I don't need any money." He's laughing now. Shes scooting to the restroom when he catches her hands and holds her close. "Where are you going. You owe me, you're gonna pay me in conversation."

Wait, he still wants to talk, even after they've done what they came to do. "Ok." Shes still a little embarrassed and pulling away.

"No, no, stay and talk, come back to bed and tell me about my perfect co—" she's clamping her hand over his mouth.

"Only if you shut up, and I have to have a wee first."

"After!" He begged. "I wanna hear about school and everything. What exactly you're doing to save the world."

"I'll tell you, I have to go after, prevents uti's and such." She hated being clinical, well right now.

"It does?" He asked and she nodded. "That's good to know."

She wants to be embarrassed, but his ease when she comes back from washing up, the way he is still naked and opens his arms to her, helping her find the right spot on top of him where they are both comfortable, it makes her less self conscious, about her little factoid, her nudity, or that she's essentially slept with him right off.

She sighs and is about to ask about the giant butterfly, moth, when he speaks. "Tell me about Holland, about school." His voice is like molasses, and her words come out as slow.

"It lovely, and school is so hard, some times I might as well move onto campus, live in the library-"

"You don't live on campus?" She shakes her head. "Do you ride your bike into town?"

"Yes, I do."

"Oh, you must send me a picture of you on your bike. In a dress." He wants to text.

"Then I want updates on any stupid tattoos you get!" She counters.

"You think my tattoos are stupid?" He pouts, and she's captivated by that face.

"Very." She kissed both sparrows beaks. "But their also sexy."

He likes that, his dimples say so. Then he asks about Iceland and they talk for an hour or more before she's over him, swallowing his moans. They have another go in the morning before leaving, he's hard to convince that she'll be fine with an Uber. If he drives her, it'll blow their cover.

She wound up in his suv anyway.

For the next week they snuck out to warm up the backseat of his Range Rover, her mother's kitchen counter, his childhood bedroom, and then the inn again the night before she left. Just for a few hours, she'd told her mum she was going to the pub to say goodbye to mates.

Their goodbye meant his face remained her go-to for the next year whenever she was alone in her room, at night, missing him.

"Can I have you again, next year? For Christmas?" He'd asked.

Who could say no to that?

She faced those plans unafraid, the ones they made, for the whole next year.

[let-it-raines]

your wonder under summer skies (3/?)

Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.

rating: mature

ao3: beginning | current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 

-/-

She shouldn’t have come tonight.

It was a horrible idea.

A really, truly, horrendous idea.

Emma has had a lot of those lately, but that’s not new for her.

God, her heart feels like it’s going to explode, and she imagines there’s no way for that to twist around and be healthy. She’s been walking around all week not telling a soul that she broke up with Neal or any of the circumstances behind it, and the fact that none of them know about it tells her that Neal hasn’t told anyone either. He never did like her friends, so she guesses it makes sense that he wouldn’t talk to any of them.

Why is she only realizing all of this now? Where were these revelations before?

How blind has she been to so many things? Was she so damn desperate for love that she accepted the scraps someone left on the floor?

But now she went and told Killian that they broke up, which she shouldn’t have done. He kept pestering her, and she knew that eventually she’d break or he’d figure it out. He already knew something was wrong when no one else seemed to notice. She should have just told someone, anyone, and not someone who is hosting a party to celebrate his brother’s engagement.

Emma should not be somewhere celebrating love when she can never seem to get that particular thing quite right.

Quickly, Emma glances behind her to see if Killian is following her. He’s not. He’s still standing on the balcony, and Emma takes the opportunity to make a beeline for the kitchen and grab the wine Killian got for her for tonight. She’s sure the beer everyone’s brought is fine, but she’s never been much of a beer girl unless it’s the only option.

And she really, really needs a drink.

Well, another one.

“Woah, woah, woah,” David laughs, “you going to drink that entire bottle tonight?”

“I might.”

“Well, at least do it in moderation and have a little something to eat.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I’ve already had some pizza. Do you always have to act like a dad?”

“If I was a dad, I’d take the bottle away from you and pour out half of your glass for myself.”

“True.” She gulps down a large sip. Maybe she should slow down and nurse the glass. She hasn’t even gotten to tell Elsa congratulations, and it probably wouldn’t be a great move for her to be slightly tipsy for that. “Are you coming into the office to help tomorrow?”

“Am I the greatest husband alive because I’m going to my wife’s work on my day off to help the two of you decorate an entire country club that’s too cheap to get you two help for that? Why, yes, yes I am.”

“Shhhh, you can’t talk about the club like that when Robin is around. His girlfriend is kind of in charge of if I can afford to stay in my apartment or not since she owns the damn place.”

“You know, I bet if you moved in with Neal instead of you sleeping over at his place, you two could save money.”

Emma takes a bigger gulp of her wine before biting her tongue on mumbling that she really didn’t stay at Neal’s place much lately. If she did, she usually just crashed on the couch or in bed as soon as she got there.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t exactly helping things, but that doesn’t give Neal an excuse to do anything he did.

For how long that he did. Over and over again.

Bastard.

She’s glad they never moved in together even if they should have so many times. So that’s at least one positive from this whole thing. If she was homeless right now on top of everything else, she’d probably give up…or at least cry a hell of a lot more.

“I like having my space,” Emma mumbles. “Neal likes having his. It’s all fine.”

Tell him, tell him, tell him.

Her brain keeps chanting those words every time she’s around David. Or anyone, really, because she’s an idiot who is not so great at dealing with feelings or having people be sympathetic toward her.

At least she’s self-aware. Kind of.

Thunder rolls outside and shakes the apartment. Emma turns and looks to see that the sky is now dark and rain has started to fall. Great. The weather is now an accurate representation of her mood. Sometimes the world is a little too on point.

“You know, eventually – ”

“Emma,” Elsa squeals in what may be the most un-like-Elsa sound ever, “oh my gosh, I didn’t know you were here! How did I miss you?”

“I was hiding over here drinking my wine, but I wanted to come see you. Congratulations, lady!”

“Thank you.” Emma quickly puts her glass down before Elsa engulfs her in a hug that is suffocating. “I’m so excited! I never thought I would be the type of girl who got excited and kept making these inhumane noises, but I’m so excited!”

“As you should be! It’s an exciting thing.”

Elsa pulls back, still absolutely beaming. “Wait. Where’s Neal? Is he here?”

When the hell did everyone start caring about Neal?

“He’s working. He couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay. Find me later, yeah? I’ve got to keep making the rounds and find Liam. We have to FaceTime Anna soon, and I think everyone will want to see that.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“I was going to call her in the morning. I didn’t know we were coming back to all of these people.”

“Well, you better call her before someone tells her.”

“I know. She’d murder me.”

So much talk about murder tonight. It’s only slightly disturbing.

Emma laughs as Elsa turns away, and Emma quickly grabs her glass and starts chugging even as David watches her. She doesn’t care. She needs this, even if it’s unhealthy.

Okay, maybe she cares a little as David crosses her arms and stares her down with a stare that she’s pretty sure he uses when he catches teenagers drinking underneath the bleachers at the high school.

Why can’t someone else come and interrupt them? There are twenty people. There should be some kind of relief from her being interrogated by David.

Where’s Killian when she needs him?

Wait, no. She doesn’t want Killian because he knows, and he’s going to ask questions that she still can’t handle.

“Did you and Neal break up?”

Oh shit. Apparently David is going to be asking her questions she can’t handle either.

“What? No. We’re fine.”

David’s eyes glance up and down her face, and Emma could really use that entire bottle now.

“Really? Because there are rumors that he’s been working around the pawn shop again, and we both know how you feel about that.”

“Neal can do what he wants, questionable activities or no. Controlling him in that is really more in your authority than mine.”

“Emma.”

“It’s fine, David,” Emma snaps. “I don’t care what Neal does with his life. We both know as soon as he gets the money he wants, he’ll stop working with his dad and go back to normal and there will be no suspicious activity on your radar that no one will ever do anything about.”

“Are you saying you want me to figure out how to arrest your boyfriend?”

“I’m saying to let sleeping dogs lie. Of all of the crazy things that go on in this town, I don’t think you need to pull your focus on a guy selling mysteriously collected items in a run-down pawn shop. I hear the Tomlinsons are coming back into town, and they’re bringing friends. You’ll be too busy focusing on them and their penchant for spray paint and cheap beer.”

“Fuck. I hate those kids.”

She reaches forward and pats David’s shoulder as her stomach settles. She didn’t think she’d be able to talk herself out of that conversation, but the Tomlinsons will do it.

She hates those kids, too.

“Yeah, they’re the worst. Good luck with all of their vandalism. I’m sure they’ve learned a few tricks over the past year.”

With that, Emma takes her glass and maneuvers away from David before he can circle the conversation back to her and Neal. He obviously knows what’s wrong, and she isn’t ready for that, not at all. Which is the exact reason that she avoids Killian as well. He seems to be avoiding her too, and she can’t say she minds. He can stand in the corner with a beer in his hand away from her as she talks to Ruby and Ariel and anyone else who wanders into her space.

It’s nice to get distracted and to have all of these people around her, talking and laughing and continuously offering to fill her wine glass up.

She doesn’t say no.

By midnight, she’s possibly had the entire bottle, and she may be feeling a little woozy. Her steps are still sure, though, and she knows she’s not slurring her thoughts or her words. It’s a good thing she did eat pizza and drink as many glasses of water as she did wine.

That’s probably why she has to pee as well.

Pee.

The bathroom.

Emma needs the bathroom.

She gets up from the couch where she’s talking to Belle and walks back down the hallway, passing Liam’s room and heading straight toward Killian’s. She knows both of them are absolutely ridiculous about keeping their bathrooms clean, but stalking through Liam’s room never seems like the best idea on her part. She’s always gotten this distinct impression that he doesn’t like her.

That may be the wine talking.

Or true. It’s probably true. She really didn’t have that much to drink. Mary Margaret had some of the wine, so she didn’t have the entire bottle by herself.

And she knows Liam doesn’t like her. She’s asked Killian about it before, but he’s always adamantly denied it.

He’s always been lying when he said it.

Or maybe Neal is right and she really isn’t as good at telling when people are lying as she thinks she is.

Killian’s bathroom is, indeed, clean, and after she’s washed her hands, brushed out her hair, and fixed the slightest smudged mascara underneath her eyes, she feels like a brand new woman and miraculously a little more sober. Opening the door, she steps out only to collide with a warm, solid body.

Fuck.

“If you wanted to get close to me, all you had to do was ask.”

Emma scoffs and rolls her eyes as Killian’s hands settle on her back and hers loop around his neck. She leans back into the bathroom door, and it clicks closed behind her.

Killian smells like sweat and his cologne, and she can’t say that she hates it.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’ve been called worse. Oftentimes by you.”

“I do what I can.” Have his eyes always been this blue? Is it just the lighting in this place?  “What are you doing in here?”

His brow raises. He likes doing that. It’s almost weird how his face has the muscles to do that. “What am I doing in my bedroom?”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

“Mhm. I was looking for you, actually.”

“Well, you found me.”

“Aye,” he whispers, “it seems like I did. Swan, what happened with Neal? Why didn’t you tell me when you were last here?”

“I don’t – I don’t want to talk about it.”

She can feel the heat of his hands on her back, the warmth of his breath when he speaks, and she swears that she can nearly feel the brush of his scruff. Did he move closer? He did. When did that happen? Why hasn’t she moved away?

Maybe she doesn’t want to.

Why doesn’t she want to?

“Swan.”

“Don’t,” she says quietly, voice cracking as her heart does that awful, painful thing again. “Please don’t. I just – I want you to make me feel better.”

He blinks, and she swears she feels the intensity in his gaze deep in her belly. How is that even possible?

“What are you saying?”

“Jones, you know exactly what I’m saying.” Her hand moves from the base of his neck, and she drags her nail across his skin and up behind his ear. She didn’t even know what she was saying until this exact moment, but now she’s sure of it. Suddenly, she’s much more aware of everything. “C’mon.”

Killian keeps blinking, and his lips part the slightest bit while his jaw ticks. He’s going to say no. She knows that he is, and he probably should. This isn’t…what the hell is she thinking?

But then he pounces, his lips capturing hers in a fierce kiss that she feels over every inch of her body.

Damn.

Emma’s always known his reputation, knows about the women and the lack of long-term relationships, and she’s always understood the appeal of Killian Jones. She has eyes. Killian’s an attractive man, and anyone with said eyes can see that.

She never quite imagined, at least not in depth, that she would get to see the appeal of kissing him first hand.

Damn, he’s a good kisser.

He doesn’t slow down, never softens the kiss or takes time to savor each movement of her lips or her tongue or the way that her hands scratch his hair and tug him closer. She can’t breathe, her body desperately searching for that little more air, but she’d rather drown in Killian and the way that this feels.

Her thoughts are a little too preoccupied by all of that to focus on much of anything else.

That’s definitely the best thing to happen to her in awhile.

Killian’s hand finds its way underneath her shirt, rough fingertips scratching her skin, and she can’t get over how warm he is or how good it feels as he finds her breast and moves away her bra. A shiver runs down her spin, tickling along her skin, and it settles between her thighs as she begins to absolutely ache for more.

She doesn’t have to question how that happens?

She doesn’t have to question any of this.

She feels good.

This is good.

This is really good.

“Get on the bed,” Killian mumbles against her neck.

“I don’t remember saying you could tell me what to do.”

“You said you wanted to feel good, aye? I can make you feel good if you’d simply listen to me for once in your life.”

Emma nods and gulps as she maneuvers herself out of his arms and toward the bed, stripping out of her clothes as she goes while Killian does the same. She gets a glance of his stomach and the toned muscles covered by dark hair she’s seen a million times before, but it looks different in the dim lighting of his room than it ever has out on the beach.

It looks different because she can see where the hair leads, where the muscles dip, and she felt exactly how much he was turned on when he had her pressed up against the door. She’s never seen the full extent of the compass inked on his hip, has never known how intricate it is, but it’s beautiful.

Slowly, Killian walks toward her, his lips curled into a smirk, and then the smirk disappears to her thigh as his lips and his beard brush against her skin, igniting the heat that only keeps growing.

“Oh, so you’re suddenly a gentleman now?” she teases on a broken breath. Sweat is prickling at her skin, and her heart is beating so quickly that she can feel it between her ears. At least it’s no longer painful.

Killian’s tongue does something beyond sinful, and her back arches up off the bed as he pulls her closer to him.

“I’m always a gentleman.”

And then, she swears, she feels better than she has in a long, long time.

From then on, Emma turns her brain off as much as she can. She doesn’t think. She simply feels, and it’s glorious to be able to do that. Killian’s hands and his mouth work wonders on her body. He’s skilled, knows exactly what he’s doing, and she spares one final thought to all of the woman who have come before her for this.

For helping to make her forget everything else.

Killian’s voice is muted, but she can still hear the thickness of the accent and the huskiness coating each word as he encourages her to be quiet. There are still people outside, which is not something she considered.

She didn’t consider a lot of things about this.

But any concerns she has quickly disappear and she rolls over and settles down on top of Killian, sinking down onto him until he’s feeling her and feeling so fucking good that she can’t breathe.

This is exactly what she needed. She needed the way he praises her, needed the way his hands hold onto her ass and her waist and encourage her movements. She needed the way that he kisses and the way that he makes her feel as he moves inside of her.

She needed this.

And when she falls, it’s to the sound of her own name being whispered in an accent as familiar as anything else in her life and to the rain continuing to pour down outside.

-/-

If someone were to ask her ten things she knows about Killian Jones, the list would be pretty easy and straightforward for her to write.

1.     His brother is the most important person in the world to him despite their disagreements.

2.     His friends come next on that list.

3.     There’s no place he’d rather be than on a beach or on a boat.

4.     He drinks more rum than the actual Captain Morgan did.

(Is there an actual Captain Morgan, she wonders.)

5.     When he thinks something is legitimately funny, his nose scrunches up and his eyes crinkle to show off (almost) twenty-eight years of laughter, even if there is some sadness in there.

6.     He never talks about the scars on his hand unless a kid asks him. Then he always makes up a story that is somehow both far-fetched and realistic.

7.     He has five tattoos at the moment, and she knows he wants to get more.

8.     If you ask him what his favorite movie is, he’ll say he doesn’t have one. It’s because he loves the Hangover and refuses to admit it.

9.     If you ask him who is best friend is, everyone expects him to say Liam, but much to her surprise, he always says Emma Swan.

10.  He likes her on top.

That last one is a new thing she just learned, well, last night.

Oh fuck, what did she do?

She fucked Killian.

-/-

-/-

tag list: @qualitycoffeethings​ @mrtinski​ @klynn-stormz​ @jonirobinson64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @shardminds​ @captainsjedi​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @scarletslippers​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda​ @andiirivera​

[unfolded73]

Kitchen Gossip (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

Yesterday Jen Gunter published a piece in the New York Times celebrating the WAP, and so I guess somehow Jen Gunter and Cardi B led indirectly to this, the little fic that pushed me over 1,000,000 words on ao3. 

Rated Teen, 1452 words. David stumbles into some girl talk with Marcy and her sisters. (ao3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

David picks up the pinot noir bottle and upends it over his glass and… nothing.

He can probably do without another glass of wine. If he stops drinking now, he’ll be stone cold sober by bedtime and will thus be best-positioned to seduce his husband, the fact that they are sleeping in Patrick’s childhood bedroom down the hall from Patrick’s parents during this visit notwithstanding.

A cheer erupts from the living room.

On the other hand, Patrick is going to be watching hockey with his relatives until late, and David’s got just enough of a buzz going that another glass of wine will make the next couple of hours much less boring.

He sets the empty bottle down and goes into the kitchen in search of another.

Marcy has wine bottles lined up on the counter, and David sets his glass down, grabbing one and peeling the foil away.

“Mom told me once that I wouldn’t be that interested in sex after menopause, but I’m not finding that to be the case,” a woman behind David says surprisingly loudly, given the topic.

He doesn’t want to whip around and stare at the person speaking, so he focuses on inserting the corkscrew and twisting it. He didn’t look over at the women clustered in the kitchen when he came in, but he’s pretty sure that’s Patrick’s Aunt Laura talking.

“Well, Mom was probably just as happy to have an excuse not to have sex. She never talked like it was something she enjoyed.” That’s Marcy talking now. About Patrick’s dearly departed grandmother’s sex life. Not a topic David expected to hear anyone talking about during this visit to his in-laws’ house. Or, you know, ever.

The women are giggling to themselves as David deftly extracts the cork from the wine bottle. “God rest her soul, but she may have thought the female orgasm was a myth.” He supposes, from context, that this is the younger of Marcy’s sisters talking. Jennifer. The short one who makes the Nanaimo bars that he’d be willing to commit unspeakable crimes for.

“Or she just didn’t want to let us in on the secret in case we ran out and lost our virginities in high school,” Marcy says, and the women laugh.

“It was too late for me by the time she started lecturing me about it,” Jennifer says as David fills his glass.

“David!” calls Laura, the oldest sister. Wincing, he turns around, expecting her to tease him for inadvertently bumbling into this private sisterly conversation. “Bring that wine over here; I need a refill.”

He does as instructed, shooting Marcy a look that he hopes is apologetic for intruding on her bonding time with her sisters. She smiles and waves her hand to dismiss his apology, and when he finishes topping off Laura’s glass, Marcy holds hers out as well. He ends up emptying the bottle, between himself and the three sisters who are gossiping in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Laura says to Jennifer, “You could fill a book with the stuff that Mom didn’t teach us about sex.” Continuing as if he’s not still standing there. So David starts to turn and go.

“Did your parents teach you about sex, David?” Jennifer, the youngest, asks him. Her lips are stained red with the wine, and he’s guessing she’s had at least as many glasses as he has. Maybe more.

He tilts his head to the side and tries to answer honestly. “Mm. They weren’t shy about talking about sex around me. There wasn’t any shame about it. But ‘teach’ is probably the wrong word. They never sat me down and had a ‘talk’.” He makes air quotes with his one free hand.

Marcy and her sisters are hanging on his every word, nodding in sympathy, and it’s disconcerting but also kind of nice.

“When I was eleven, my mother had her hairdresser Evan talk to me?” He shudders a little. “I guess because he was gay and she I assumed I was too.” He waves his hand to try to shoo that memory away. “But it was kind of horrifying. In retrospect, not appropriate topics for an eleven year old.” He sips his wine.

“Did Mom tell you that oral sex was unsanitary?” Jennifer asks her older sisters.

Marcy raises her eyebrows. “I don’t think she ever mentioned to me that it existed.”

“I’m not sure which is worse,” Jennifer says, and then shakes her head. “No, mine is worse. It kind of gave me a complex about it. I had to get over the idea that it was dirty. The idea that no man would want to put his mouth… you know. Down there.”

David blinks, and wonders if he should try to slink away before these women (who include his mother-in-law) remember that he’s standing there listening to them talking about mouths and vaginas. But also, he has something to contribute to this conversation, and the alcohol has vanished the filter between his brain and his mouth.

“To be fair to your mother, the culture instills in women a lot of that shame. There are all these products telling women they don’t smell good or taste good or that they’re too wet or not wet enough…” Oh god. Did all of that just come out of his mouth? In front of Marcy?

But all of them are nodding at his sage words. “David, you’re so right,” Laura says. “I had to talk to my daughter about that. She’d gotten this idea that her labia of all things should look a certain way. From porn, I guess.”

“As if we don’t have enough pressure from the media about our visible body parts,” Marcy says, taking a big drink from her wine glass.

“I mean, you aren’t going to be putting your mouth down there on any women anyway, are you, David?” Laura slurs, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Well, not now,” he says, tipsy enough not to be offended by the assumptions of his… aunt-in-law? Is that a thing? “But I’m pansexual, so I enjoyed doing that in my day.”

Laura, meanwhile, is drunk enough to be unphased and unashamed. “Oh, I thought you were gay.”

“Well, it just goes to show you can’t make assumptions about sexual orientation based on how someone acts,” he explains easily. “My hockey-loving, beer-drinking husband in there only enjoys sex with men, while for me, gender doesn’t figure in to who I’m attracted to.”

Jennifer takes another sip of her wine. “I might have been bisexual…” She looks at David. “Or pansexual. If it had occurred to me to explore any of that before I married Eric.”

David smiles at her. “Your sexual identity doesn’t have to align with who you’re sleeping with. You can be bi or pan and still be in a monogamous relationship with a man.” He gestures up and down at himself, the dregs of his wine sloshing dangerously. “Case in point.”

She nods but looks uncertain. He wants to hug her and take her by the hand and guide her into the wonderful world of queer identities, because it’s never too late. Reining himself in from any inappropriate demonstrations of affection, David drinks and then looks down at his wine glass, surprised that it’s already empty.

“We need more wine!” Laura says, and she’s going over this time to open a bottle.

“So what did Mom tell you?” Jennifer asks Marcy.

Marcy sighs. “That I would regret it if I didn’t save myself for marriage. And that part of being married was, you know. It was the whole wifely duty thing.” She rolls her eyes. “Fortunately, I knew better than to listen to any of that.”

A part of David is intensely curious to know more, but he has just enough sense not to ask Marcy to elaborate. He holds his glass out to let Aunt Laura fill it.

“So your parents assumed you were gay and then you had to… what? Come out to them that you also liked women?” Laura asks.

David leans back against the counter and nods. “That is almost exactly what happened, yes.”

The women nod at him, the overly aggressive agreement of drunk people. “That must have been difficult in its own way,” Marcy says.

“Well, we all have our crosses to bear,” David says.

~*~

“How did you get so drunk, is the question,” Patrick says, putting a glass of water and a couple of headache pills on the bedside table next to David.

“It was your mother’s fault,” David groans. “She and your aunts were talking about your grandmother’s sex life, and things kind of went downhill from there.”

Patrick puts his hands on his hips. “Ew, David.”

[lu-undy]

Here we go, I think this is sensitive...spy doesn't want to touch his suit but honestly, he get trigger because of his dark past we all know spy is a good looking guy. Then sniper is always their for help in case spy was in danger

It took me a bit of time to understand your request but I think I finally did, sorry ^^! I hope this is what you expected.

"Good job today Spook!"

The battle had just ended.

"Well," The Frenchman crouched to use his enemy's tie to wipe his knife. "I believe I did what I had to quite beautifully indeed."

Sniper watched him do and rolled his eyes. The Frenchman had to be that pedantic, didn't he? Despite giving his back to his tall friend, the Frenchman knew that his little taunt to the enemy had its effect on his colleague and he couldn't help but smirk. 

"And thanks for savin' me from that bastard's knife." Sniper added. 

"My pleasure." 

The Aussie bent down to put his hand on his friend's shoulder. 

"Roight, let's go back to the base, mate-whot?!" 

As soon as his fingers touched Spy's jacket, the Frenchman sprang to his feet, spun around, his feet sliding effortlessly on the orange, dusty ground of the desert and he put his blade under his teammate's throat. 

"Do not, under any circumstances, whatever you think you might be doing, touch my suit." 

"Alroight… uh… Sorry, I-I'm sorry!" The Australian was petrified by both the way his colleague held him hostage and the sheer dread of what Spy was capable of doing. He had spoken slowly, his teeth gritted.

The Frenchman released him and without adding a word, he walked back to the base, leaving the Aussie there, as confused as a man could be. Sniper put a hand on his throat. 

Bugger, he would have slit my throat without a second thought… What the hell was that about…? Why? 

He raised his head and followed Spy with his eyes as he caught his breath.

Roight, better go back too. 

The sun had now gone and Sniper was in his van. He finished his sandwich and played with the toothpick that was holding the olive on top of it. His eyes crossed to look at it better. It reminded him of Spy's blade and the incident that had happened earlier. 

The sun had set and the van was dark. Sniper didn't mind it. On the contrary, it helped him gather his thoughts. He closed his eyes and rewinded the movie of the events, trying to understand what he did to startle his colleague that much and make him react in such a brutal way.

No, there was absolutely nothing he had done wrong. And it was the end of the battle too so it couldn't be that Spy thought he was the enemy spy in disguise… He had just killed him anyway! Nothing made sense and Sniper opened his eyes again in the dark blue of the night. 

The only light source was the ones coming from the base and a nearby lamp post in the street, the only one for miles around. 

Bugger… 

Sniper put the toothpick between his teeth and chewed on it while his thoughts raced. 

They were good friends, bloody hell! Spy and Sniper were good friends! What could drive the Frenchman to do what he did…? What on Earth prompted that reaction after the days they had spent together, sometimes in Spy's smoking room, sometimes in the van, on their way to town. Sniper had offered to drive his teammate there because he needed to buy some things while the Aussie himself needed some supplies of his own. 

No, after all that and even after what had happened a few days before, the way Spy looked at him… 

Sniper remembered it. They were sharing a cigarette and a drink in the Frenchman's room. Well, sharing wouldn't be correct as one was having a beer while the overly sophisticated other was sipping aristocratically on his wine. 

Truth be told, Sniper found the Frenchman handsome. And the way that he would behave, as if he was a King on Earth just got to him in a particular way. Of course, had the man in the suit just been arrogant for the sake of it, Sniper would have hated him, and to be totally honest, he did at the beginning. But the long van drives through the desert, the conversations they shared, the anecdotes, the banter in a word, the Australian had rarely experienced it with anyone else before. 

In a way, he saw through the suit to discover the man. And deep down - very deep down some might argue - the man was simple, in his own way. He led a life of minimum trouble, which Sniper could only understand. He interacted very little with anyone and kept himself to himself. 

But that day, after the cigarettes and the drinks, Spy had walked his guest back to the door and something happened. It might have been the alcohol, but Sniper liked to believe that it truly happened.

Spy had closed the gap with his friend and put his gloved hand on Sniper's vest, on his chest. He had looked up to the Aussie's eyes, and grinned. There couldn't be any mistakes, it was a sweet smile, it wasn't anything else, was it? Then the Frenchman's fair eyes slowly slid down Sniper's nose and stopped down at… his lips. 

The Aussie remembered it almost too vividly as his heart started pounding in his chest as it had done that day. Eventually, Spy lowered his head and diverted his gaze. He had opened the door and wished a good night to his blushing friend. 

Well, after today's incident, it was now settled. Sniper had let the alcohol imagine it all. Maybe it was what part of him wanted to see? They say alcohol makes you loosen up so much that you can end up in a bush behind the pub with a sheila you'd have never even looked at otherwise…! 

Sniper wasn't drunk. He was tipsy, happy, a bit more talkative and the alcohol was responsible only for the first. The two others, it was Spy's fault. The man in the suit just knew how to talk to him and make him slide in the conversation without Sniper feeling embarrassed or awkward. It just flowed. 

The Australian didn't realise it but he was smiling. 

A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought. 

"Sniper?" 

He heard the French accent and jumped out of his seat to open his door. 

"Hey, Spy." 

He had wanted to say Spook but part of him was unsure he had opened the door to his friend or his murderer. 

"My apologies if I am bothering you in your rest or in your sleep. May I have a bit of your time, please? I… I cannot sleep." 

Sniper raised a curious eyebrow but opened his door wider. 

"Sure, come in." 

Spy stepped in and Sniper closed the door after him. 

"I'll switch on the lights, sorry-"

"It won't be necessary. And actually, I would much prefer that you leave it as it is." 

"Oh, alroight. Uhm, sit down, yeah, want anything to drink?"

Spy sat down on the worn out couch. 

"Non, merci. I have drunk the equivalent of the Mediterranean Sea and my body cannot rest. Non, I need to talk to you." 

Sniper was standing next to his door. He couldn't get closer to Spy, not after what had happened. 

"I owe you all the apologies I can find."

Sniper frowned. His guest wasn't looking at him, he was staring at the ground, his elbows on his knees.

"I apologise for the way I behave earlier today. I shouldn't have. If that is any comfort, I have been incapable of eating and I can't manage to sleep because of it." 

"It… It's not good, Spy. You should have a bite of somethin'. You worked hard today." 

"Sniper, nevermind that for a moment. I need to talk to you seriously and explain myself."

It sounded painful for the Frenchman to open up so Sniper stopped him. 

"Mate, look, you don't have to explain anythin'. You were very clear and it's ok, I got it. I won't touch yer suit." 

"The suit is not the issue. And please, come sit next to me." 

Sniper hesitated. 

"You want to search me? I came unarmed." Spy stood up and opened his arms.

"You don't need anythin' if you wanna kill me."

"And if that's what I wanted truly, you would already be lying on the floor lifeless." Spy let his arms fall along his sides and looked up at his friend. "Please Sniper. You… You are the only one I can talk to." 

The Australian came closer to his guest and both sat down on the couch. 

"It's a bad memory. One day I got caught. It was decades ago now, in East Germany…"

Sniper listened without saying anything. 

"They set out a trap and young as I was, I fell in it. They captured me strapped me to a chair and did all sorts of torture to me. You think of it? They did it. Punched, kicked, cut, sliced and burnt, amongst other things. My body is scarred beyond what a human body is capable to withstand. Eventually, they stopped." Spy paused. "After my heart did." 

Sniper's eyes snapped wide open. He looked down at his friend sitting next to him. Spy was fumbling with his fingers, slowly yet one could clearly feel the tension in him, the tight throat and the sweat, as he was bringing back memories he wished were only a nightmare.

"When I woke up, I was on a hospital bed. Someone had found me and contacted an ambulance just in time. And it all started when a hand landed on my shoulder, from behind, the same way you did earlier today." 

The Australian now understood.

"Sniper, I am a dead man who by accident, happens to be alive."

"I-I'm sorry to hear that. I had no idea…" 

Spy put a hand on his eyes. 

"Non. There's nothing wrong with you. C'est moi. Since then I have been living like half a man because I had already been sent to the grave." 

[It’s me.]

"Spook, it's wrong. You're roight next to me, you're alive."

"Thank you for trying, Sniper. But non. I am already gone." 

The Frenchman stood up and headed for the door. 

"I said what I needed to."

Sniper leapt up and put his hand on the Frenchman's shoulder to hold him back. As he did so, he realised what he was doing but he was ready for it. He put his fingers on his friend's shoulder and screwed his eyes shut, frowning hard, feeling that something was coming but not knowing what exactly. 

Spy put his hand on the Australian’s and twisted his entire arm, locking it behind his back as he spun on his heels. It hurt so much that the Australian fell to his knees, groaning out of pain. 

"What are you doing?! You want me to kill you!? I told you!" Spy shouted angrily, looking down at his tall friend now strangely shorter than him.

"N-no you mongrel, I want to help you, argh-I'll, I'll help."

"You can't! Nobody can!"

"Yeah I can! Shut up and stop thinking that it's you versus the entirety of life! Argh, bugger, ah…"

"And what makes you think you can, hm? Are you God himself?!"

"N-no, ya piker, but I saw the way you looked at me before I went back to my van the other day - aaargh, God it hurts, nnh! - The way you looked up at me, I saw it! I-I know it wasn't the alcohol talking, you really looked at me that way - argh, please let me go-!"

The Frenchman's frown disappeared instantly and released his grip on the Australian. Sniper stood back up and stretched his shoulder slowly, making it turn one way and the other to make the pain go away.

"Also, you could have killed me… Or hurt me badly, and you didn't do it… Ouch… Twice in the same day now." 

In the darkness of the van, silence fell. 

"Now you can go away if you want. But I won't. You need help to drum some sense in that bloody head of yours. You're alive and what you're doing is just waitin' for the end to come if you live like that. But the Spook I spent my evenin' with the other day, he wasn't like that. He laughed and he joked around, we had some really good banter. And before I went away, do you remember what he did?" 

Spy held his head low and crossed his arms on his chest. He slightly nodded. 

"You couldn't sleep today because you nearly slit my throat but that day I couldn't sleep because of yer eyes and what you did before I left your room. Spook…"

Sniper closed the gap between them. 

"Go away."

The Frenchman raised his fair eyes that Sniper saw glistened in the dark. 

"Come on. Dare go away like the bloody mongrel you are."

Spy stared at his taller friend's eyes. He leaned forward until his head landed on Sniper's chest, under his chin. He took the panes of his collar and held on to them dearly in his gloved hands. The Australian smiled and laced his arms around the poor man's sides, holding him in a dear hug. 

"Merci et pardon."

[Thank you and sorry.]

"It's nothing."

[larryssunflower]

TRR AU- Teachers (part two) Butterflies

Hey! I wrote a part one to this fic :) You should read it first lol

The lovely @simplyaiden-blog asked me to post my part two as soon as possible so here it is! Enjoy :)

Pairing- Drake X Mc (Elle Garden)

—-

After lunch I head back to the classroom, letting the kids file in. I go to my desk, pulling out my schedule. After lunch and recess, they have an hour of class then physical education after. With Drake. I inform the kids what project they are going to do and hand out papers and crayons, but Drake is still on my mind. I can still almost feel the pressure of his knee when he bumped it against mine.

As the kids are laughing and working on their projects, I go through some paperwork because I still haven’t solidified my school year plan. I suddenly jump when there’s a knock at my door, I look up at it opens, Drake walking in. “Hey, sorry to bother you, but it’s time for PE.” He says, and I bring my hand up to my forehead, laughing lightly. “Oh I’m sorry, I totally lost track of time,” I say embarrassedly, getting up and gathering my work.

“Kids! You guys need to go to PE now, just leave your work where it is, we will pick it up after.” I say, and they all get up excitedly, scrambling over to the door. “Single file!” I remind them and they get in line almost immediately. Drake grins at me before turning around and leading them outside. I follow the class.

I sit on the sidelines, still doing my paperwork as Drake plays soccer with the kids. I can’t help glancing up to look at Drake. He is laughing and shouting orders to the energetic kids as they run around in helpless circles around the field. I smile looking at them totally ignore Drake as they leave the ball to chase each other around. Drake glances up at me and grins, making me smile more as my stomach erupts in butterflies.

He still doesn’t give up, trying to get them into the game. I try to ignore the fact that his white shirt is starting to stick to him. And getting a bit transparent. Just ignore him, Elle, just do your work. I listen to myself for a while, actually just doing a good chunk of work. I decide to leave it there for the rest of the class, and look up, nearly having a heart attack. Drake is now shirtless, yelling (still grinning) at the kids to keep up with him as he does jumping jacks.

I’m dumbfounded for a whole minute as I watch him. He is much more fit then he lets on. I notice the trail of hair which goes down the waistband of his pants. I bite my lip and look away, my cheeks burning. Is he doing this on purpose? I mean the kids don’t care, did he do it intentionally? For me? No. No way. Right? I look back up and meet eyes with Drake who was already looking at me. He winks before stopping the jumping jacks and telling everyone to get water.

I’m disappointed as I realize that it’s over. I stand up, turn around, bending over to grab all my things. I stand up straight, my paperwork in my arms and turn, nearly running straight into Drake. Who is still shirtless. When will I get a break? “Oh. Hey.” I say breathlessly, looking up at him. Wow, we are very close. I can see small freckles along the bridge of his nose and flecks if lighter brown in his eyes. We are probably four inches apart. With anyone else, this would be uncomfortably close, but for some reason, it’s not with him.

I step back, clearing my throat. “You have great kids, Garden,” Drake says, making me smile proudly. “Yeah, they’re the best,” I say, looking over at them, laughing with each other as they drink water under a tree. I look back at Drake who has a strange look on his face as he looks at me. I’m about to say something but then he clears his throat, blushing momentarily. “So tonight, Maxwell, Hana, Liam and I are all going to a bar, do you want to come?” He asks, seeming almost nervous.

“Sounds fun,” I grin. Kiara isn’t on the list.. hehe. “Heh, it’ll be great.” He says. The kids run over, and I smile at them. “Had fun?” I ask, and I hear a chorus of ‘yeah!’. “Alright, time to get back to class, get in line!” I say, and they rush into line, wanting to be as close to the front as possible. I turn and see Drake putting on his shirt. He walks up to me. “Leaving already?” He teases. “Heh, thank you for distracting them for an hour. They love you.” I say, smiling. “No problem. Here, I’ll walk you to your classroom.” He says, grabbing his bag. “Okay.” I smile, and the kids lead the way.

“Are you leaving?” I ask Drake, looking at his bag. “Uh yeah, no more classes after yours. Which is good, I mean I actually think I got a decent workout.” He says, making me laugh. “It’s cool that you try hard with them. They really do love you,” I say, bumping against him playfully. He grins down at me shaking his head. “What?” I ask. “You are just- nothing.” He says, cutting himself off. Before I can push further, we reach my classroom. “I’ll see you later Garden.” He says, winking, walking away and out the front door. “Bye,” I say quietly, before heading back into the classroom.

—-

(Group chat with Maxwell, Hana, Liam, and Drake)

Drake- guys we need to go out tonight.

Maxwell-  why is that?

Drake- I invited Garden out. I said you would all be there too, we need to welcome her to the friend group.

Liam- Aw Drake, Are you being nice to the pretty new girl?

Drake- Ha ha. Hana was probably going to make us all hang out anyway. Why not now?

Hana- you aren’t wrong, I was already planning something :)

Maxwell- what about Kiara?

Drake- what about her?

Liam- why isn’t she invited?

Drake- I don’t know, I find her kind of annoying.

Hana- Drake! You know she has a huge crush on you!

Drake- She still isn’t over it? Can’t she take a hint? I mean she’s nice and all, but not my type.

Liam- yeah, your type is fourth-grade teachers from New York with green eyes, brown hair, and yellow dresses ;)

-Drake has left the group chat-

Maxwell- he couldn’t even deny it lol

—-

I’m getting a glass of water in my apartment when I hear knocking on my door. “One second!” I shout, walking over. I open it to reveal Hana standing there with a huge grin on her face. “Hey!” She says, walking right in. “Hey Han, what’s up?” I ask, closing the door. “I’m here to get ready with you, duh.” She says, walking into my bedroom. Alright then. I follow in, confused. “I was just going to wear this,” I say to my friend who is digging through my closet. She turns to me. “I think not.” She says, and she pulls out a piece of clothing I never thought I would wear again. “No Hana, I only bought that for a costume, I’m not going to wear it,” I say, crossing my arms. “Come on Elle! It’s cool!” She says, waving it around. I roll my eyes. “At least try it on?” She asks hopefully, using her puppy dog eye trick. “Fine.” I huff, unable to say no to her.

“I feel stupid,” I announce as I walk out. Hana squeals, getting up quickly. “That looks so good! What are you talking about?” She says, getting up and looking around me. “The jacket is perfect! You look like a cool rocker chic!” She says ecstatically. I sigh, looking at my reflection. “Well, you can’t change your mind because we need to leave right now!” Hana says as she glanced at her watch, and rushes away, grabbing her purse. I groan and follow her. Nerves biting away at me.

—

We arrive at the bar and spot the boys in a booth, talking. “Hey, guys!” Hana says, walking right up to them. I follow behind. What if Drake thinks I look dumb? Like I’m trying to hard? God, I look like an idiot. “Hey!” I grin, trying to hide my nerves as I sit next to Drake. “Woah, you look great Elle,” Liam says, making me smile more. “Thanks, Liam!” I say as I shift in my seat. I turn to glance at Drake who looks pretty shocked. “You look like you just walked out of the Grease, freaking cool!” Maxwell says, making me blush. “Alright enough about my dumb outfit. How was your guys’ first day?” I ask, leaning forward.

We all discuss the kids, the other teachers, and plans for the school year. “Alright, enough with the work talk, I need a drink,” Drake says, getting up. “I’ll help you bring them over, Drake,” Liam says, but I notice he is in the middle of the booth. I get up, brushing myself off. “I’ll go, don’t want to make everyone else get up.” I smile and turn to see Drake, who smiles slightly at me before going towards the bar. I follow, wondering why he hasn’t talked to me. We were okay during PE, why is he acting like this now?

We reach the bar and Drake orders what im guessing the group usually gets. Im not really paying attention, watching a woman perform drunk karaoke. “What will you have Garden?” He asks. I turn to him. “Oh, a whiskey please,” I say, turning back to the singer. I glance over and catch him shaking his head, muttering something under his breath. “Is there something wrong?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “No, its just I’ve never met a woman who likes whiskey,” he says, smiling. I laugh lightly. “Doesn't sound like you’ve met the right woman yet,” I say, lightly biting my lip. “No, I think I might have...” He trails off, a strange look on his face. The bartender suddenly comes up. “Alright, we have a white wine, a beer, a cosmopolitan, and two whiskeys.” He says, pushing them towards us. I grab a couple, leading the way back to the booth. I may have been swinging my hips a bit...

I place the cosmopolitan in front of Hana, but she just laughs, giving it to Maxwell. “Not really my drink, but thank you, Elle, ill take the Chardonnay please” she grins, making me laugh as I hand her rightful drink over. “I didnt take you for a cosmopolitan kind of man, Maxwell” I tease, making Drake snort. “Then you definitely haven't gotten to know him well enough,” He says, making everyone laugh, even Maxwell who mumbles ‘‘Its true’’ with a shrug. 

Many rounds later, we are the loudest table, laughing and drinking. I’m not really drunk myself, just kind of tipsy. I can’t say the same for Maxwell. Somehow we migrate to a table near the karaoke stage, and before I know it, im picking a song. I find one that is perfect for me right now. I grin at Drake as the music starts to play. He seems pretty sober to me and he's looking at me with a curious look on his face. Probably waiting for me to embarrass myself.

(This link is to the youtube video of the song :) I recommend listening in a different tab or something. It's Butterflies by Kacey Musgraves)

‘ I was just coasting, not really goin’ anywhere, 

caught up in a web I was just kind of used to you stayin’ there

then out of the blue, 

I fell for you.’

I start singing, definitely not sounding as good as the original singer but not too bad. My group sways along to the acoustic song, except for Maxwell and Drake. Maxwell is slowly breakdancing and Drake is just sitting there, looking at me with an intensity in his eyes I had never seen before

‘I didn’t know him, and I didn’t know me, 

cloud nine was always out of reach, 

now I remember what its like to fly,

 you give me butterflies’

I sing this, looking right at Drake, getting butterflies just like the song. I smile, looking down, continuing the lyrics.

‘kiss full of color, 

makes me wonder where you have always been.’

I sing this and I imagine kissing drake. I bet his lips are so soft. I do wonder where he has been. I have never met a man who has affected me like this before. I do the rest of the song, finally singing the last lyrics;

‘You give me butterflies.

mmhmm,

butterflies...’

I finish, and everyone applauds, making me blush as I clamber down the steps, walking back to the group. Liam, who seems a little more than tipsy stumbles over to me. “Hey hi hello,” He says, his words slurring. “hey, you alright Liam?” I ask, steading him with my arms on his shoulders. “I’m kinda drunk,” He whispers loudly, giggling. “Yeah, I can tell,” I say, laughing. He suddenly gets serious. “I-I’m just working up my nerve for- to do something,” he says, slightly swaying. I furrow my eyebrows. ‘Wha-” He cuts me off, pressing his lips on mine.

what the fuckkkkkkkk

*end of part two*

Hope you liked it! Tagging:

@simplyaiden-blog @butindeed @monosodiumglutamateme @mfackenthal

@drakelover78 @mrsdrakewalkerblog @crookedslimecreatorpasta

[kfawkes]

May I request 24 and 40 with Eggsy? Eggsy is the one who drinks eggnog and starts saying nonesense things 😂 Thxs

Amazing lol. I can totally see our sweet Egg boy doing this lol. I’m not sure if you wanted this to be Reader, but based on the way you worded it I am going to assume so? So hopefully you’re happy

I can’t help myself so its a LITTLE angsty like for a SECOND and then it gets hella fluffy lol. SOOOOORRRRYYY I hope you like it ;.;

“Secret Santa is bullshit” and “Just how much eggnog have you had?”

“Secret Santa is some serious bullshit, Harry…” Eggsy exclaimed, knocking back the rest of his mug with his face pulled about rather playfully. A moment later he reached over to the table and refilled his mug to the brim with nog. “buuuuullshit.”

If there was one thing you could say about tipsy Eggsy Unwin, it was that it was really damn cute, and it wasn’t just because of the reindeer antlers or the adorable smile he was wearing.

“D’you really think I–me, Eggsy, or Galahad… whatever you prefer–” he added pointedly to Harry as he lifted a hand to his chest defensively. “can honestly handle takin’ care of a fuckin’ plant– can hardly take care of myself, can’I?” 

“Eggsy, you have a dog… a plant should be tremendously easier for you to manage.” Harry replied with an affectionate grin as he slid his hand into his pockets with a tilt of his head. 

You watched them passively from the corner of the room, standing at the bar with Roxy and Merlin as Eggsy continued smiling wide and pure. His arms were waving lightly as he explained whatever topic came next; his body jumping idly and the excitement literally spilling off of him… 

At this point it was a little too loud for you to know what he was saying anymore, but you could assume it was just as adorably innocent. And judging by the faces Ginger, Cadence the new recruit, and Harry were making; they were clearly enjoying it. 

Of course they were though… Just about everyone that met him liked him, but what wasn’t to like? Eggsy was incredible, and it was more than a little obvious that you hadn’t been the only one to have noticed. You watched as Cadence laughed loudly, leaning into him as she grabbed his elbow lightly, and immediately you felt a stab of envy boiling lightly in the pits of your stomach. 

But Eggsy was your friend, partner, and nothing more, what right did you have? Okay, that wasn’t entirely true… You were more than friends in the sense that you had maybe, sort of, accidentally hooked up once or twice… or… like 7 times tops. Bottom line was it was enough for that bubble to form with persistence, rising up your chest and when you thought about him with someone else you could have–

“You alright there, Y/n?” Roxy’s voice broke your death stare, and you realized that Eggsy had most definitely noticed it too. He was staring right at you with a curious look in his eyes… 

Now you done it.

You blinked back nervously catching your breath, and shaking your head with an immediate smile; shifting your attention back towards Rox. “Hm? Yes, I’m– sorry. Spacing out again, you know me. One too many glasses of wine, and… just me.” you laughed softly with a shrug, pulling the glass of wine to your lips; tossing once more short glance at Eggsy when doing so. 

Roxy squinted her eyes suspiciously, very lightly raising her full cup to her lips. It was clear she didn’t buy it, and could you really blame her? It was almost painfully obvious what had just happened and she was one of your best friends.

“You sure about that?” when Roxy finished she slid her gaze towards Eggsy, your eyes following closely behind. 

When you looked back towards him, he’d already been making his way over to you. His cheeks a little flush from the excitement and laughter of friends and family… and he looked a little too good in that dark plaid suit jacket. When he reached you, he put his arm directly around your shoulder– not missing a beat.

“Well hello, luv… ssss… how are my two favorite people doin’?” Eggsy asked happily, pulling you slightly closer to him as he rub his hand softly up and down the length of your arm.

Immediately you felt your cheeks redden and your stomach drop to the floor. It wasn’t the first time he’d been publicly affectionate with you of course, and you’d be lying if you denied having loved it every time– but there was something different about this… something more personal, and even though you knew he’d been drinking a bit, you also somehow knew he meant it.

Eggsy looked at you sweetly, booping the top of your nose lightly with his finger. “You are so pretty.” 

You shot your eyes to his in a flash, expecting to see a face searching for an excuse, but he wasn’t embarrassed at all. Actually, he looked pretty damn pleased with himself, and about 10 times more sober which was hard to believe. You could see Roxy biting back her chuckle as she placed her fingers sparingly over her lip; biting the nail slightly as she locked eyes with you for the briefest of moments. 

“Honestly, I jus love your nose. It’s so cute.” 

“Eggsy… just how much of that eggnog have you had?” Roxy asked him, looking over at Cadence who was scowling rather aggressively towards the two of you. 

But Eggsy didn’t seem to notice at all. No, his eyes were glued to you. 

“Don see what that’s gotta do wi’it.” Eggsy rubbed your arm again softly, leaning his head to rest atop yours, and when he did so you slid your hand up his back softly, resting your hand at his hip with ease. 

Roxy just raised her brows unbelievingly like a parent, her eyes playful yet just a hair concerned. “Drink some water.” she warned pointing at you two before turning to leave with Merlin– who had remained completely silent and nearly invisible aside from a small chuckle and a very knowing stare… 

“Yeah, alright mum.” Eggsy called after her, and as she made her way towards Tequila and Ginger she raised her hand oh so delicately, and flipped him off.

You laughed, and Eggsy scoffed quietly placing his tongue to the corner of his mouth. A moment later he looked down at you, sporting the sweetest look you’d ever seen.

“Mistletoe–” he paused looking up to the ceiling, naturally your eyes followed… “don’t that mean we’re s’posed t’kiss?”

And yeah, that was technically the rules… but there was absolutely nothing there. Just the dark wooden pillars spanning the top if the ceiling. 

“Uhm, Eggsy’, there’s no–” you’d fully intended on telling him how wrong he was, but when you returned your gaze to his he slid his hand to your neck; pulling you into a kiss.

“Bout time.” Tequila hollered after a moment between cupped hands; sending a few yipping cheers after, and in moments everyone else was yelling loudly and out of sync. 

Whether the cheers were for you two, or for the break you all deserved and finally had– you really weren’t sure, but truthfully it didn’t matter at all, and when your lips parted you knew this Christmas you’d gotten the best gift of all: someone to love.

[mystupidoverwatchimagines]

Sing For Me (6-Part Test Posts)

Requests Are Closed Until Further Notice.

This is a little post I decided to do because I don't know if it'll post or not. I do have one request finished and one waiting to be finished, but for some reason it won't post the one that's finished, I can't tell if its too long or not, or what's going on.

So this is something of my own, its some of our heroes discovering that their S/O is a very talented singer, through different scenarios, and falling even more madly in love with them. This is gonna be for Lucio, Junkrat, Mercy, Roadhog, Reaper, and Sombra! Neutral "You" used and lots of fluff and stuff. (I'll tell you what song I have in mind and the artist to make it more awesome)

Also a Shoutout for a New Overwatch Imagine Writer!! Trying to help a fellow writer get some traction because lord knows it can be hard to gwt things rolling on something new.

Please check out @whatsthepointinplayingfair

Part Five of Six - Reaper

"The Best Is Yet To Come" by Frank Sinatra

° There weren't many in this world who got to see who Reaper really was, but Gabriel had trusted you with everything in him since the first Talon mission you had been on and he saw that not only were you this gorgeous soul with this otherworldly smile and eyes that seemed to hold the beauty of all the galaxies combined (you really brought out the poet in this man), but you were one hell of a fighter, and saved his ass on this mission. He had become smitten so quickly and you had begun dating not long after this moment. You had seen behind the mask and grew to love the mess of a man he had become and he loved you as well. Fast forward to the day you knocked this man completely off his feet.

° It wasn't often the members of Talon were interested in spending time together, but with you, you had such a way about you that everyone wanted to spend time with you. A few glasses of wine, and a few shots of tequila (courtesy of Sombra) and you and Widowmaker were sitting on the ground, you braiding Amelie's hair and Amelie sitting and talking about life. About deep loves and personal things she doesn't usually share with anyone. But you? It all seemed to flow out with such ease (the alcohol may have helped too.) Meanwhile, Sombra and Gabriel were watching the two of you quietly, Sombra keeping the tequila poured into their glasses as they listened to what Amelie had to say. It wasn't often that Gabriel and Sombra got along so easily, but again, the alcohol was probably helping the situation. It was a quiet and relaxed night that Talon operatives rarely got. And Reaper added it to the long list of things he loved about you. That you were able to calm such chaotic souls. When Amelie had began to quiet down her sharing, the room became quiet and you quickly added back into the conversation.

° "So, tell me about when you used to do ballet," you ask curiously but Widow quickly waved off this question.

° "I've talked about myself enough, mon cher. Tell me about you, do you have any talents I might not know," she questioned back, moving so that she faced you and you quickly changed so that you had your back to her and you felt her fingers go into your hair. You thought about it for a moment, but with you facing Sombra and Gabriel now, and Gabriel could see that your nose and cheeks were a light shade of pink, the alcohol you had drank showing on your features in the cutest way. You explain that you didn't have any real talents, but you're not half bad at singing, which made Gabriel raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

° "Sing for us, Cariña/o," Sombra stated gently, a strange warm smile on her face. Oh man, you all were for sure drunk. You shake your head, stating you weren't that good but Sombra waved you off and said just to sing anything while Widow leaned forward and rested her chin on your shoulder as she had the bottle of wine in her hand and refilled your glass. You tried to think through songs you knew by heart and the only thing that came up was an old song your mother used to listen to, a song much older than the war even. You supposed no one would no the difference if it didn't sound right, it was so old that most probably didn't even know it. You took a sip of your wine and looked at Gabe, who gave a small smile which gave you a little bit of confidence but even still when you started to sing, it was gentle and quiet. You lowered your eyes so that you weren't keeping eye contact with anyone, suddenly very shy about the idea of singing in front of your coworkers, your friends, your boyfriend. It was scary. But as you sang more, you got a little louder, a little more confident. You dared to look up and you saw Sombra staring at you wide eyed, looking to be in shock and behind you, Amelie rested her head on your shoulder as she seemed to be very content listening to you sing. But Gabriel's face is what got you most, him looking taken aback, looking so shocked. His rugged features seemed to soften as you kept singing, and you found one of his large hands was rested on his chest, right over his heart.

° Gabriel was going through so many emotions in a matter of just seconds. First it was awe. Just pure awe at the sultry sounds coming from your vocal chords. The beauty behind what you sang. The classical way it sounded. The way that as you sang it made his heart beat wildly and his eyes grow misty and he's at this moment so vulnerable and it was all under your power and beauty in which you did so. He took a deep breath and relaxed, listening to your song as he sipped his drink. You were so beautiful, he couldn't help the smirk that crept upon his lips as he took you in. He was definitely feeling a little tipsy as he watched Amelie rest her head on your shoulder and a tiny twinge of jealousy hit him but he had to push it away, but he wanted to hold you and rest against you as you sang for him. But he was all The way across the room, what was he going to do?! He wanted so badly just to hold you as you sang so sweetly. But as if Amelie could read his mind, she stood with all her grace and grasped your hand gently in her own and lead both of you to where Sombra and Reaper sat. You had stopped singing for a moment but Widow looked at you and spoke very bluntly.

° "Don't stop singing, mon cher." She almost demanded you, but she also so sounded so warm about it. You can't help but laugh gently before you picked up where you left off as Widow sat down next to Sombra and Gabriel quickly pulled you into his lap in a very strange show of affection. You stopped singing in surprise but he nuzzled into your neck. He was warm, almost radiating heat off his skin which was a shock for you as his skin was usually a cool temperature no matter the weather. You wrap an around his shoulders and held yourself to him to keep yourself sliding off his lap.

° "Keep singing, mi amor," he stated into your flesh sweetly, continuing to nuzzle into your skin and his lips dragging along your flesh. You raised your wine glass to your lips with a small smirk on your lips but as you pulled the glass away, you kept singing your song warmly. He kept his face against your neck. He couldn't help but hum with you. You felt your heart beat loudly in your chest at his closeness, at his humming vibrating against your skin. Thank the stars the song was almost over. As you began to finish the song, Gabriel held you so tight you felt the wind almost be knocked completely out of you. As you finished, Sombra excitedly clapped and Widow followed suit but clapped only softly. Gabriel moved his arms so he could clap as well. You felt a blush come to your cheeks but you laughed it off and the Talon members gushed happily about your singing, all complimenting you in their own ways.

° When you and Reaper were walking to your rooms, you quickly tackled you through his door and to the bedroom with a trail of hot kisses on your flesh. You spend the night there wrapped in his arms and him curled around you tightly. Its a little weird after this experience, as Gabriel will ask you to sing quite frequently at first. In the middle of a meeting? Sing for him. In a haze of bullets? Sing for him. He can't get enough of your smooth vocals.

° After the glimmer died down, he know doesnt ask you to sing unless he needs to be warmed by your honey voice. Sometimes he'll hum along with you as you are both relaxing in your room and sometimes he pulls you into his arms and he slow dances with you while you sing.

° Yes its super freaking CUTE AND ADORABLE

[matthewxdavidson]

May I Have This Dance?

Tagging: Matthew Davidson & Mercedes Jones

When: May 18, 2019

Where: Castle Isla in Linlithgow, Scotland

Notes: They share a dance and spend quiet time together in private during Alex and Chloe’s wedding reception.

Matt

Matt been away from everyone for some days, finding solace or something close to it at the cabin he rented with Steve some time back. Now, amongst people again in a place he didn’t expect to see, Matt drank wine and ate food off a plate while he chatted with random people. He didn’t know everyone here but he’d been laughing and having a good time, which attracted people to him. For the most part he seemed like his old self, but there were moments; especially when words were shared about Ellie’s passing, that made it tough. But now he wanted to do his best and enjoy life. And that second glass of wine he just finished definitely help. “Well goddam.” He said as he went up to Mercedes, grinning handsomely. “Hard to keep my eyes off you with a dress like that. You look fucking fantastic.”

Mercy

Being away from Lima, was just what she needed. Scotland was beautiful and she was enjoying everything about this trip. Faith looked like a little Princess and Chloe and Alex looked like they belonged together. The wedding was amazing. beautiful and perfect and now at the reception, Mercedes was just enjoying being among her family and friends. She had just finished dancing with Jackson when she walked over to grab a glass of wine. Hearing someone speak to her she smiled softly seeing Matt. She hadn't spoken to him since he left her hospital room, so she didn't know how he was doing. He seemed okay. His comment made her shake her head. "Compared to the bride I look like a hag."

Matt

“Nope. You don’t. That lady over there.” He said as he leaned in close, almost as if they were conspiring something. “The one with that feather in her hair. I mean. Come on. She has evil stepmother written all over her. That’s more of the hag. I think you look hot. Could also be because I can’t stop thinking about things.” He leaned away and returned his attention to his wine. “How you doing since I last saw you? I saw Jackson’s back to cutting a rug or whatever it is kids do these days.”

Mercy 

When he leaned into her she bust out laughing, shaking her head at his comment. "Oh God stop! She has a resting evil face for sure but still be nice." she said.  "What can't you stop thinking about?" She asked watching him retreat from her. Placing her hair behind her ears she shrugged. "Nothing much, Jack moved in for a few days so I could help him out. Living with him and three dogs, very intersted I won't lie." she said with a sigh. "And yeah hes a good dancer it was fun. How are you doing?"

Matt

“Come on. Really? You must have some idea when it comes to the way my always in the gutter to the point I might as well live with the Ninja Turtles mind works, Mercedes.” Matt pulled something off a passing platter, not sure what it is, and ate it. “How was it like having a full house and playing husband and wife those days?” He sipped and went for another bite. “Eh. Feels good to be around people again. I thought I was going to turn into Tom Hanks in Castaway if I stayed in that cabin an extra day.”

Mercy 

Mercedes shook her head. "So which one of your loves were you fantasizing about since your mind was in the gutter?" She asked. She feared that once he got over Ellie's passing he would go back to sleeping with everything that smiled at him. "It was interesting. I mean I love his dogs. They are so much fun and he really is stubborn but he also let go a little. I dunno still figuring things out." She glanced at him and his outfit. "Well I mean at least you came here very presentable. I am loving the kilt, it suits you."

Matt

Matt eyed her and shook his head slowly before adding, “Guess that’s something I’ll keep to myself.” He thought it was obvious but he knew better than getting right into it in the middle of the reception. “That’s saying something right there. Maybe there’s hope for you and him once you tie the knot.” Matt wanted to sound optimistic but it came out tired instead, thinking about how El told him all of these arrangements are a joke. “Figured when in Scotland. Got a whole new appreciation for women wearing dresses. You feel pretty good in them. But I have to be careful with bending over. I’m pretty sure people want to take a peek.”

Mercy 

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "Soo you do have your eyes on someone?" She didn't mean to sound jealous or upset, she knew his feelings were far gone but she couldn't help herself. Downing her wine she shrugged. "Who knows right?" She wanted to sound optimistic, but the unknown of everything it hurt her soul. She bent down looking at his legs. "I mean give the world a show, everyone would appreciative of it." A slow song came on and she held out her hand. "Come dance with me, show off those legs."

Matt

“Jesus Christ, woman. I was talking about you.” He said as he moved closer to her. “I know you keep speaking to me about my feelings and how I feel about you and how I felt that Ellie was the love of my life. I’m not even sure why you so this. If it’s some means to protect yourself after what happened earlier this year. And I’m going to say this again, I loved her. I’m not denying that. But I wasn’t in love with her. But...” he looked at Jackson and sighed as he eventually looked back at her, “I’m not good enough. Not compared to him and I know he can give you something I’m not able to.” After they spoke he laughed. “Do you still want to dance with me after all of that?”

Mercy 

Her hand dropped as he spoke, she didn't want to hear this, not from him. She shook her head walking away from him. "Stop." She said looking at him. "Just." Why was he doing this? "No, nope." She said shaking her head and walked out the reception hall needing to get away from the happy and dancing, needing to breathe. But the place was so big she could easily get lost. He loved Ellie and not her, that was what she told herself to deal, that is what helped her try and let go and this, no she couldn't let it get to her and yet it did. Matt did. He always did.

Matt

Matt, who thoughts she might say something or tell him that he was wrong watched as she hauled ass away. “Fucking hell. Guess she does want that dance now.” He was tipsy and feeling....he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. But he knew he needed to catch up to her somehow because this was just how things went when it came to their relationship. Matt set the glass down next to hers and went in the same direction. He didn’t know where he was exactly but the music wasn’t as loud and he had to act a bloodhound pretty much with trying to pick up the perfume she usually wore. He figured she might have gone up or down some stairs but found her on the other side of the castle where there weren’t too many people around. “Come on, Merce.” He said slowly as he approached her. “Nothing I said then is new information. And it’s not like we can do anything about it. We have the next five years of our lives mapped out by the HC.”

Mercy 

It was easier, not having someone in love with her, not having someone share her feelings it was easier to be focused on Jackson. Yes when he told her he moved on she was devastated but it was easier and now, now she felt like second best. Ellie isn't here so lets go back to Mercedes. When Matt found her she turned to him, she may have had tears in her eyes but she was more angry than anything. "Nothing is new? Its the same cycle Matt. You tell me you love me you want to be with me. I asked you to marry me and you, you told me no. Then we get together but then we stop being together. Then you tell me that you and Ellie want to be together that you love her and want her. and I let go. I let go of the thought of me and you. And then, then you sit there and say you guys weren't together but I saw you!" She wiped her eyes, thankful for her water proof mascara. "Now that she's not here you want to say you love me? I wasn't good enough for you then and I am not now. How am I supposed to believe you actually want me? And you just aren't mourning?"

Matt

This is the scene he wanted to avoid and if it wasn’t for the music then people definitely would have heard it. “I never said no to your proposal because I don’t love you. You keep bringing that up but it’s because we are tied to these damn arrangements. When I got with Ellie it was....” No. she was only gone for two weeks and he didn’t want yo say what had been on his mind every since it happened. “It was because I thought I was doing she right thing. I thought there must be something about Jackson that he can give you that stability and not be all kinds of fucked in the head that I am.” He didn’t move closer to her but he did keep his eyes locked with hers. “Even before El died. Long before she died. I told you this. I’ve told you all of this but you keep acting like I’ve never said a word about it.”

Mercy 

She didn't say anything, she tuned him out on purpose when he said he loved her before because it was hard to trust he wouldn't hurt her again. Excuses, lies and pain, that is what was associated with Matt and love and yet, she still loved him. Still thought about him and a part of her wanted to move over to him and kiss him, hold him and beg him to stay with her, but she couldn't because that would just complicate things, that would confuse things and she didn't want to hurt him or herself. "Matt." was all she could say. She couldn't really say anything else because the next words out her mouth threatened to be how much she missed him and loved him.

Matt

“I know things with us are fucked up because of everything that’s happened. That I do things without thinking through and maybe we couldn’t avoid the complications because of where we live and who our families are. Which sucks. I wish I could have said yes to your proposal and left this place to never see our family and friends again. Because you know they would have fined us so hard and thrown us in jail as an example.” He did get near her now and lowered his hand to take hers. “But we should see this as our chance to just be completely open with each other. You know all of my fears and worries. You know how I thought about killing myself or my plan to kill that worthless piece of shit that comes out of prison in September. You now know that with everything that’s happened you’re not just my first love but the love of my life. And you know that with all of this I will always want you here with me. If not as my love but as my best friend. Because you are.”

Mercy 

She shook her head as he moved closer to her, he took her hand and she looked down to the ground. He was right he was honest with her and she had to be honest with him. "I think i have always known I loved you, but I saw you with all those people how you slept with them and I turned it off, protected my heart. So I just....just believed we were only friends and what I felt for you was friendship. Then the night of the Carnival when we made love, it was the happiest I have ever felt. Because finally I wasn't able to deny it." She wiped her eyes. "So I asked you to marry me and you said no and I felt like you just said things to make me want you. And so I let it go, let go of wanting you and it was fine until you made me love you harder than I ever thought possible. So when you hurt me again I locked those feelings away again. Because I don't ever want to feel that pain again. I can't feel that pain again. I wanted to die Matt. I left Ohio because I wanted to die, and I invited Jackson because he wouldn't ask questions and I couldn't kill myself."

Matt

His hands went up the sides of her body and he cupped her cheeks. This was the first he’s heard of her wanting to die. Not as an expression but to actually die. Matt looked into her soft brown eyes and leaned in but he didn’t kiss her. Instead his arms went around her body and Matt held her against his. “I’m going to ask you this,” he said, his voice strained but in need to get this question out. “Do you want me to leave you alone? I’ll transfer to another station in one of those cities right outside of Lima and get a place there. I’ll figure things out.”

Mercy��

The truth was out and she couldn't take it back, it was her shame that she didn't want anyone to know. His hands went up her body and she shivered at the feel, remembering how things were between them. His strong arms wrapped around her body and he held her. But she didn't know how to answer his question. Didn't know if he should leave or stay. She pulled back to look up to him. "Lima is your home Matt." was all she could say.

Matt

He shook his head, arms still around her. “It’s your home, too. And it’s easier for me to uproot and move.” His lips pinched a moment and soon he looked down. If times were different he would have started to kiss at all of her skin. “I think I must be the worst thing to have happened to you.” To know he caused her that much grief...how could he not be?

Mercy 

Mercedes closed her eyes, tears falling. "You aren't the worst thing to happen to me Matt. Things were just... when you love someone and they hurt you like that it makes you crazy I guess. But at the end of the day, you are my best friend. And that is important to me. You are important to me."

Matt

In the middle of her words Matt brought his forehead to hers and pressed them together. He didn't speak immediatly. Only stood there and felt their breathing eventually sync after some time. "That day at the grocery store. When I had that panic attack. There was a lot going on with me around that time. A fuckton, really. But a giant part of me falling apart is because all my choices kept hurting you. I've always wanted for you and me to have something like what Alex and Chlo got but- but I ruined that for us. And now I know that anything that happens now will be seen with apprehension and distrust. And that's not what makes for a healthy relationship. And I can apologize until I'm blue in the face and mean it every single time but it doesn't erase what's been done." He stopped speaking pulled just enough to look at her. "But you are the most important person in my life, Mercedes Jones."

Mercy 

Looking in his eyes she knew he was being truthful, but that didn't take away from the fact that she was still hurting and that she was scared. What would admitting her feelings do? She was about to marry Jackson and Matt was supposed to marry Bri. They were supposed to both marry at the same time, divorce and then be together but that seemed so far away from where they were now. "I will always love you Matt, nothing will ever change that." Her eyes stared up to his and she leaned him kissing him softly. "Best friends forever."

Matt

As soon as he felt her feather soft lips against his own Matt returned the kiss and held her closer to him as he brought his hand up and laid it against her neck, knowing not to touch her hair because it looked as if she put a lot of work into it. Matt brought her cheek to rest against his chest and he kissed the side of her head a few times. "Most best friends give each other bracelets or those necklaces. Instead I gave you heartache and torment..." He tried to laugh but it was hard. "Do you still want that dance?"

Mercy 

Mercedes sighed, "You make my life enjoyable thats worth something." she said sighing. She nodded. "Yes I would, but can we dance here I kinda like it being just you and me right now." she said holding out her hand to him.

Matt

At sight of her hand he took it and brought it to his lips, taking that moment to kiss the delicate skin of her wrist. "Admit it," he said as he moved himself into a better position for them to dance to a slow song he barley recognized, some 90s R&B song he hadn't heard in years. "you're too embarrassed by my dance moves. That's why you want to keep me hidden."

Mercy 

He kissed her hand and she shuttered at the action. They started dancing and she shook her head. "No that is the other reason I don't want to share you. The main reason is because I am afraid your skirt is gonna fly up and everyone is gonna see all your bits and pieces." she teased, but truthfully she needed a moment with just him where they could be lost in each other.

Matt

"What makes you think I'm not wearing any underwear?" He moved her around the small area, humming along to the slow jam and enjoying how it was only them. There were other stressors, and maybe there'll always be, but for these next however many minutes they had together, it was just them and the song and their playful banter.

Mercy 

She shook her head. "If you are then I am shocked." she said with a smirk. As the music played, her heart raced. Her feelings that she kept bottled up it just started to bubble over and if she was smart she would leave. But she didn't know how much time they had, didn't know when the next time they would be together was and she wanted to enjoy it. She lifted her head up to his face and leaned into him. "You have gotten better at dancing."

Matt

Matt laughed. It was an honest and much needed one and he shook his head. "You know, I guess I must have done a great job when it comes to making people expect the unexpected with me. But nah, I was good and wore actual underwear. There was a part of me that didn't want to but that was only to moon Blaine later. Since I'm clearly an adult." He grinned and stepped back to spin her but instead of spinning her completely he brought Mercedes' back to his chest and Matt held her there. "Have I? Guess I have and didn't notice."

Mercy 

Mercedes sighed in his arms. "Well what is life without some fun Matt times?" She asked. She laid her head on his chest and sighed. "Full disclosure, I am surprised you aren't wearing just the Kilt and nothing else." She sighed heavily, a part of her wanting to reach up and kiss him, but the other part knowing it wasn't right.

Matt

"Now, you know if I were to do that there'd be an absolute sex riot and as wild as Chloe seems to me, I don't think she wants one of those at their wedding." Matt's mouth ghosted along the crook of her neck and he moved them to the music but it wasn't as much as before as he was distracted now. "But you're more than welcome to think of me in only in kilt whenever you fantasize about me again."(edited)

Mercy 

Mercedes laughed. "Yeah Chlo is small but fierce and she might hurt you if you up stage her." His lips ghosted her neck and she swallowed hard, closing her eyes. "Mmmm I might." she said moving against him even slower, holding him closer.

Matt

Here was that territory they could easily slip into. Both knew they were arranged to people they cared for but to be actually married to? Then there was everything that happened with Ellie and all of his and Mercedes' history and how he'd fucked with her head and heart too much. Matt's hand held hers tighter and he pressed his lips to her skin but didn't actually kiss it. This was hard. Fucking hard. "When do you head back home?" lips moved against her neck before he peeled away from it.

Mercy 

Without even realizing it her head moved tot he side, allowing him better access to her neck, she sighed at his question. "Monday. When do you head back?" She asked lightly.

Matt

"Monday." he answered as his chin settled on her shoulder. The song changed, to a fast paced one, but he didn't move from her or keep from the sway which didn't at all go with this current song. "I didn't take a private jet or anything. Came in coach." Matt didn't have as much money as everyone else he knows and he heard that that he'll be getting money from Ellie's estate but that wasn't anything he intended to keep. "Want to get lunch of dinner with me tomorrow? Go explore some of this place?"

Mercy 

Mercedes nodded. "If you want a better ride home, you can always come with us." She said still rocking with him. "We can, just depends on what time, I wanted to check on Mac, this has got to be hard on him."(edited)

Matt

“Not sure time wise. Guess we’ll see just how bad of a hangover I wake up with.” Matt moved from her but took hold of Mercedes’ hand and brought her to a stone bench. “I’m surprised he showed. Same with Quinn. Do you know if she’s here for emotional support? If she’s capable of providing emotional support? Figured with that big bomb about Marcus and Chloe she’d be too uppity to show.”

Mercy 

Following him to the bench she sighed. "Mac is amazing, he loves Chloe so that means that he will always  do what he feels is right, he knew Chloe wouldn't be able to fully stand up there if he wasn't there. As for Quinn, she may be an ice queen but I have seen the kind side of her, and James said she is a big softy too so maybe she really is trying to support things." She intertwined their hands together. "I guess I should get back to my date and you back to all the men and women wanting to be with you huh?"

Matt

He went ahead and bent down to help get her legs onto his lap. Matt pulled a heel off and started to massage. “Nah. I want to be here and talk about how the Quinn Fabray is a softie. I didn’t think such a thing is possible.” Matt worked his magic on the ball of her foot. “Heard she and James had some alone time in the manor. One of my buddies spotted them climbing out a window.”

Mercy 

Mercedes watched as he massaged her foot and leaned back onto the stone bench. "Mmmm that feels oh so good." she moaned slightly closing her eyes. "Hey she and I may have our differences, but she isn't that bad. As for her and James heard he was a hero and she actually let him save her." She said softly. "Why are you always so good to me, even just rubbing my foot like this?"

Matt

Matt chuckled. “I like that part where she let him. It’s hard to help people who don’t want it. A lot of our trainings with people say not to stick around if someone is being difficult. James should get some type of recognition for handing that and getting them both out.” Matt’s rubbing got more into it and he smiled as he looked at her foot. “Oh, you know. This is just me getting my rocks off. Me and my foot fetish and all.” Me pretended he was about to kiss her foot but stopped. “It’s what I want to do. I like having these nice moments with you. Where it feels almost domestic.”

Mercy 

"It is hard, you have your pride, you have your no how and all you want is to make things better for people. But from what he said, it was crazy, he said she first crawled away from him, thats how she cut her hand. Then she tried to leave again. He said she was stubborn the whole way but she let him do it." She laughed at him. "Well enjoy your foot fetish, but know you just can't hit that spot that causes me some...issues." She sat back on the bench just enjoying their moment together.

@heiressmercyjones​