#( I HOPE YOU HAD A GREAT NEW YEAR BRUV )

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Four

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: Hello and welcome to HELL. This is your angst warning. Angst is coming very soon. I hope this chapter makes you feel uneasy. Hahahah

Word count: 9k

Chapter Four

During the next week, you started planning. This article was all you could think about, alongside the craziness that was happening at the club. Within his first few days at Richmond, Dani Rojas was injured. It should have been simple, should have been something easily fixed– if the rumours hadn’t started. For some reason, the prospect of a ghost, of a curse, cropped up. Dani said he could feel a presence in the treatment room… something sinister. 

While he recovered, the team was on edge. You stayed in your office a lot that week, choosing to stay out of the ghost stories. But, those stories didn’t stop the guys coming to you, either. One afternoon, Isaac and Colin knocked on the door of your office. You sat up at your desk, shooting them a smile. 

“Hey, guys. You okay?” you asked. 

Both of them looked worried beyond belief. “We just wanted your guidance on something,” Colin said. 

“Yeah, bruv. We need to borrow your smarts,” Isaac added. 

“My smarts?” you let out, utterly confused. 

“What’s the first thing you’d sacrifice if you were on a football team?” Colin burst, and your face dropped. You had no fucking clue what they were talking about, nor did you want any part of it. 

“Sorry… what?” you asked. 

Isaac leaned on your desk “Like your football boots, or your shirt, or–”

“The keys to your Lambo…” Colin trailed off, zoning out as he looked at the wall behind you. It was oddly unsettling seeing the guys like this. Overly scared, zoning out, getting lost in thought. You didn’t think it was possible for any of them to be like this. Colin snapped his gaze on you quickly, and you flinched. “I’ve got it. Thank you!” he said, before he bound out of your office as fast as he’d arrived. 

Isaac stayed where he was, still thinking about his own… sacrifice? 

“Isaac, what is this about?” you asked smally. 

He didn’t say anything, but instead focused on the pen you held in your hand. You played tennis as you flashed your gaze back and forth between the pen and him, suddenly feeling self conscious of your fucking fingers. Gently, you reached out your other hand to him, and gave him a soft prod on his shoulder. 

“Isaac–?”

“I’ve got it,” he cut over you, and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“I– okay. Great. Was that… all you needed?” you asked timidly. 

Isaac nodded, standing up straight. “We owe you,” he said, and you would have been flattered if you knew what the fuck they were talking about. You hadn’t done anything, other than be deeply concerned about them for the duration of their visit. “See you about, yeah?” Isaac said, making his way to your door before you could even respond fully. 

“I– yeah,” you stuttered, but he was already storming down the corridor to the locker room. You leaned back in your chair and let out a huge breath. Everyday at Richmond brought something new, something strange. You were certain these guys would give you a heart attack one day, if they kept up all this shit. 

You raked your fingers through your hair softly, trying to reset after the madness of the past few days. It wasn’t that things were too much, or too stacked on your plate, it was mostly from the shock of what came next that got to you. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if you arrived at the club tomorrow to see that everyone had switched places, or that the walls had been painted pink, or that the guys had decided to flood the pitch, purely because they ‘wanted to see what the Dogtrack would be like as a swimming pool’. 

Innately, they were almost like toddlers. You’d never been good with kids, never liked children, especially when they screamed and cried and had sticky fingers, but you were confident you’d make an excellent nanny after your year at Richmond. You shut your eyes gently, and breathed through the remainder of your disturbed peace. In through your nose, out through your mouth, and over again. 

A knock sounded from the door, and you jumped so hard that you almost fell back in your chair. “Jesus fuck–!” You sat up straight and opened your eyes immediately. Roy strolled into your office, knuckles still raised where he’d knocked on your door. “Oh, God, it’s just you.” You clutched your heart, trying to slow your sudden accelerated breathing. 

“Am I really that scary?” he asked.

You scoffed. “No, of course not,” you said, but as his question fully sunk in, you realised that Roy Kent was scary, sometimes. “Actually, yeah. You are a little bit.”

Roy growled in agreement. “I appreciate the honesty.” 

“Anyway,” you breathed out. “What’s up?” You leaned forward and smacked your hands together, peering up at where he stood opposite you. 

“Just wondering when we were going to get this interview done. The one for your article,” he said. You didn’t notice the subtle way his fists balled together until his knuckles went white. 

“Oh, right,” you said. “Well, how about tonight?” 

“I can’t tonight. I’ve gotta be here for a fucking cleansing,” Roy explained. 

“A cleansing? Is this about the treatment room ghosts?” you asked. Roy nodded, obviously annoyed as fuck about the entire ordeal. “What the fuck is a cleansing, anyway?”

“I don’t want to fucking talk about it,” Roy said, you could understand why. 

You raised your hands in understanding. “My lips are sealed, sorry. What about tomorrow, then? I just thought we’d go to the pub, or something. It’s not a formal interview, Roy.” 

“I can do tomorrow, just not at the fucking pub,” he said. 

“Why not?”

“Do I really have to fucking spell out why going to a Richmond pub, as a Richmond player, is a bad fucking idea?” he said. 

You winced. “You’re right, I didn’t think of that. Is there somewhere that would work better?”

Roy clenched his jaw. You saw the way the muscles tensed, matching the intense posture he constantly upheld. You were certain that Roy would be able to walk through a concrete wall if he tried. The constant puff-out of his chest, the strength in his stance, the bluntness of his stares. For someone so hard on the outside, both in how he looked and acted, you felt almost special when you thought about all the good that he’d done for you. 

Roy Kent was soft around the edges, but he didn’t show it often. 

“We could go to my gaff?” he offered, and your heart jolted in your chest. 

At work, you often had one on one conversations with Roy, but the prospect of being alone outside of work was something that made your walls erect again. The same ones that had after the charity ball, the same ones that stopped you from having a drink with him last time. 

In your mind, you told yourself to get the fuck over it. You were only human, and God forbid, you had a little crush. No one would blame you, especially with it being Roy. Crushes didn’t hurt anyone, or anything. Crushes existed to you as a bit of fun. That was all. Nothing would come of this. 

“That works, too,” you agreed, finally. “Like I said, I don’t want it to be a formal thing.” 

“Great, ‘cause I’ve got a fridge full of beer that needs to be fucking drank.” 

You huffed, amused. “It’ll be hard, but I’m willing to help make a dent in that,” you said, dropping your expression in a false display of hardship.

Roy hummed lowly. “Your sacrifice won’t go unnoticed.” 

You bowed your head at him jokingly. “Thank you, Sir.”

A small smile curled onto Roy’s face, one that you kept a secret tally of in your head. Whenever you got him to laugh, to smile, to do anything that deviated from his typical stoicism, you made a note of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, the hint of that smile still on his face. 

You smiled back, fiddling with your pen nervously. “See you tomorrow, Roy.”

He nodded, then he was gone. With his leave, your heart did the exact same thing– it launched itself into your throat, its incessant dump-dump getting more erratic by the second. It took you a little over two months, but you were finally going to see the inside of Roy Kent’s big, fuck off house. And, as much as you felt silly and childish, you actually couldn’t fucking wait. 

At the end of the following day, Roy stuck his head around your door again. You were half expecting it, though, as you assumed Roy would put two and two together about it being efficient to drive you both to his that evening. 

“Ready to go?” he asked, and you stood up from your chair.

“Yeah,” you nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder and switching off the lights when you both left.

The drive felt familiar. It was equal levels of comfortable silence and awkward glances— mostly on Roy’s part. Occasionally, he sent you a side-eyed glance from the driver’s seat, tapping his fingers on the wheel to break apart the tension that rattled behind the windshield.

Even Roy had no idea why things felt more intimate all of a sudden, so you definitely weren’t suffering alone. You were determined to stay cool; it was just a small crush after all. Nothing earth shattering, nothing life changing. In fact, putting it that way had actually eased you slightly. You weren’t focusing on it as being something deep, it was just something fun— and something that would never come to fruition, anyway. 

Roy was a professional footballer, and he boiled your blood far too often. You were nothing more than an annoying, MA student who had the means to push his buttons. Sure, you gelled well, and had great conversations sometimes, and were able to make the other laugh, but that didn’t mean anything. Not really. Right?

You frowned a little, looking out the window as Roy turned down your street. You thought about his jacket, still on the peg by your front door.

“Wait,” you said abruptly. “Would you mind dropping me home first? There’s something I need to pick up.” 

Roy perked a brow at you slyly, but nodded in agreement. “Sure.” 

He pulled up his Jeep to the curb and you jumped out. You held the door open for a moment. “I’ll walk to yours. I’ll just be a few minutes.” 

Roy nodded, and you slammed the car door shut. He drove off before you entered your building, shooting you a subtle glance before he put his foot on the accelerator. When you got inside, you fumbled with your belongings. You’d written down questions on your laptop and knew what you wanted to ask him, but you knew that actually asking them in person would be the hard part.

You took a few moments to freshen up, running a brush through your tangled hair and checking your face after a long day at the Dogtrack, before you repacked your bag and headed for the door. On the peg just before it was Roy’s jacket. You picked it up and draped it over your arm, before you finally set off for Roy’s house around the corner.

Roy knew he had ten minutes, max, before you arrived. Due to the cleansing last night, he hadn’t had time to tidy at all. He didn’t live like an animal by any means, but the piles of fresh laundry on the dining table, the resistance bands on his sofa and the three empty beer bottles from earlier in the week on the counter, were not up to his standard for you. Quickly, he waltzed around his house and cleared up his messes. He didn’t know what was going to come from tonight, or what questions you’d ask him, but he had to admit— he was glad that another time was finally happening.

Having you around constantly at work after the charity ball had him going through the motions. He often flashed back to when he’d abruptly asked you in for a drink, and cringed at your response far too many times. He was a grown man, but things like that still made him feel like a teenager, getting rejected at school. It was stupid, and he knew it, but that didn’t stop his mind from reeling about it all still.

But, at the end of the day, both of you knew one thing— neither of you had fucking expected to like the other, or get along at all, in fact. That was enough to bring out the question— what if? Both of you had thought about it enough to want to see where it could go.

You knocked on Roy’s front door abruptly, and he sauntered through his hallway towards you. Upon entering his house, you tried to keep your giddiness to a minimum. He already knew what you thought of his place, from your drunken honesty and shocked reaction after the charity ball. 

Now that you were up close, you saw more of what made Roy… well, Roy. There were clippings from newspapers, dating back as far as 2002, in a huge photo album on the bottom shelf of his dining room bookshelf. Awards and trophies adorned the other levels, alongside homemade cards from someone called Phoebe. 

Roy let you silently take it all in. You clutched your bag on your shoulder with white knuckles, his jacket flush to your side, overwhelmed by all that you were seeing. He cleared his throat from the kitchen, peering over at you. “Drink?” 

“Oh,” you let out, startled. “Yes, please.” You turned back to the shelf, amazed. “Roy, this is— this is all—”

“It’s all crap,” Roy cut over you, opening the fridge. You turned around to see it full of green beer bottles. He hadn’t been wrong when he said fridge full of beers. He placed two on the kitchen counter and popped the tops off both.

“It’s not crap. They’re lovely memories,” you protested. “I mean, you displayed them here for a reason, didn’t you?” 

Roy strolled over to where you stood and casually handed you a beer. You took it gratefully, taking a gulp, as the two of you scanned his full-to-bursting shelves together.

You pointed to the abundance of homemade cards. “Who’s Phoebe?” 

“My niece,” Roy said.

“I didn’t know you had siblings,” you said.

Roy hummed. “Got a little sister.”

Somewhere within you, it all made sense. You were amongst the population that knew it was a green flag when a man had sisters, it was just plain true. Roy was no exception to that rule, and his behaviour slotted into place as a man who understood what it took to be an older brother to a sister. 

“How old is Phoebe?” 

Roy sent you a softened look. “She’s six.”

You hated to admit it, but your heart melted ever so slightly. You smiled at him genuinely. “How sweet.” 

“She is sweet,” Roy said, with a distinct genteness to his tone that you’d never heard before. “But, she’s also fucking insane. In the best way.” 

“I bet she loves you,” you said, as the two of you took another gulp of beer together.

Roy let out a refreshing ahhh afterwards, to which he followed with “Yeah, she does. I don’t get it.” 

“I do,” you let out abruptly. When Roy caught your eye, you panicked. You sent him a hastily sweet smile, before you turned to the rest of the open-plan room. 

“So… shall we start?” Roy asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

“We already have,” you said. You prodded a finger to your temple. “It’s being recorded up here.” 

Roy growled. “What happens when you run out of room?” 

“That’s what the laptop is for,” you said, shrugging your bag off your arm and placing it on the dining table. You slotted his jacket beneath it, leaving it there like an afterthought. 

Roy pulled out the chair opposite you and sat down, sipping on his beer as you got yourself sorted. You opened up your laptop and sorted through your notes, until you found the questions you’d written previously. 

You cleared your throat, placing your palms down on the table. “Ready?”

“I thought we’d already fucking started,” Roy said, and you huffed to yourself.

“Tell me your superhero origin story, go on,” you said, before you shifted and placed your chin in your hand. You leaned casually on the tabletop, peering at Roy with your full attention. 

Roy cleared his throat awkwardly, tapping his short-cut nails against his beer bottle. “I was scouted for Sunderland when I was nine years old…” he began.

He didn’t stop until all daylight disappeared from outside. An hour into his story, you had to start typing on your laptop. It didn’t detract from the mood at all, not when you and Roy bounced off each other so effortlessly. He’d say something specific about football, something that you had no fucking clue about, and you’d say something like Oh, yeah. I know exactly what that is. It made the air shift comfortably, and gave Roy a moment to catch his breath and smile before he continued on. 

It didn’t feel like an interview, and that’s exactly what you wanted. You weren’t a journalist, weren’t looking to join this writing sector, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to write about Roy Kent. You’d meant what you’d said to Keeley before, about his illustrious career, about how heart-warming his full story really was. Every word he said you ate up, joining in with the laughter, staying silent during the sensitive topics, and listening intently all the way through. 

When he was done, he let out a deep sigh. You both sat back in your chairs, finishing your beers. You’d lost count of how many times you’d gone to the fridge for more– maybe three or four times– but the buzz was pleasant for both of you. A golden glow was cast over Roy’s house, coming from a few lamps placed throughout the living and dining room. It felt warm. It felt safe. That’s exactly what you’d wanted him to feel when he opened up to you fully. 

This time, Roy travelled to the kitchen for refills, but he didn’t go to the fridge. He opened one of his kitchen cabinets, and grabbed two glasses that clinked together melodiously. From a cart in the dining room, he picked up a half full bottle of single malt whiskey. He placed the glasses on the table between you, popped the cork from the whiskey, and poured a little in each glass. When he sat again, he picked up the glass nearest him. You followed suit, picking up your own. 

You clinked your glasses together, both taking a small sip afterwards, before an even more comfortable silence settled over the room around you. You peered at him then, as he swallowed back his whiskey. The liquid slinked down your own throat hotly, warming you from the inside, out. 

“Why?” you asked quietly, and Roy caught your eye gently. 

“Why what?”

“Why football?” you said, shrugging. “You could have done anything, but you did this. Why?”

Roy exhaled through his nose, before he leaned forward on his elbows. The gap between you closed gently, until both of you were leaning on the smooth wood of his dining table, close enough that you could reach out and touch his face if you wanted to. 

“Tell me in a way that my fickle, anti-football brain will understand,” you added, and Roy huffed softly.

“From your perspective, you think football is just a game,” Roy started softly. You’d never heard his voice this clear, this gentle. “But, it’s not for me. It’s my whole life. It’s all I’ve ever done.” He tapped his glass with his fingertips, letting out a soft clink across the table at you. “Do you know why I didn’t fill out your worksheet, the one from when you first started at the club?” 

You shook your head gently, not taking your eyes off the thoughtful look that graced Roy’s face. You felt then just how vulnerable he was being– this wasn’t what Roy Kent did. He was stoic, he was blunt, but that didn’t stop him from having his own secrets, his own insecurities. 

Roy sucked in a breath. “The last question on it– What do you want from your career in the future? I couldn’t answer it, because the future for me is different to the other lads. I’m coming to the inevitable end of my career, slowing down, and they’re just getting started.” You sucked in a breath, going to protest, but Roy shook his head before you could. “Don’t tell me I’m talking rubbish. This is how it fucking goes, you know? I’m not the same player I used to be, and… it’s all going to end soon. One day I’ll wake up, and without knowing, it’ll be the last day I ever play football.”

You let his words settle over you. You didn’t know what he was feeling at all, would never understand the extent of his pain or troubles, but that didn’t stop you from having a different perspective. As an objective third party, you could see what he couldn’t. Maybe that was good, just this once. 

“I can’t begin to imagine what that’ll feel like, Roy,” you said softly. “But just because you won’t be on the pitch, doesn’t mean there won’t be something new waiting for you.” Roy raised his brows at you softly, in waiting. He was listening, he was all ears. “I know fuck all about football, but– I know about you. You won’t just fall off the edge of the world.”

“How do you know that?” he asked, swallowing back some of his anxiety. 

“I know because of all the fucking trophies on that shelf,” you said, gesturing to the shelf behind him. “I know because, when you run onto the pitch, all those fans scream that chant, just for you.” You let out an abrupt laugh, trying to convey just how amazed you were. “For fucks sake, Roy, you played in the World Cup in 2014, for fucking England. You were the same age as me then, you know.”

“A year older,” he corrected you. “I was twenty-nine.”

“Yeah, and I’m twenty-eight and only just doing my masters, working at a football club when I don’t know anything about football, with the athletic ability of a fucking teaspoon.”

Roy smiled at the table immediately. It was the kind of smile that took up his whole face, one that made his eyes squint and glint.

“What I mean is,” you continued, leaning a bit closer to him. Roy peered up at you again, his eyes glassy. “You’re a legend, Roy. And, even though I’ve been part of this world for no time at all, I know that very well. It was the first thing I learned, and will probably be the only thing that I’ll remember about the game after my year is up.” 

“Not true,” Roy said abruptly, taking another sip of his whiskey. “The first thing you learned was that I’m not the fucking caretaker.” He smiled, and after your heart stopped racing as fast, you smiled back. 

The atmosphere transitioned back to something more playful, but the underlying warmth of your prior conversation didn’t go away at all. It settled into every word that you and Roy shared, every small huff of air that you blew out from amusement, every sigh you let out to catch your breath. When your whiskeys were done, you caught a glance of the time on your laptop– it was almost midnight. You’d spent hours in each other's company, just talking, and it had gone by in mere minutes. 

“So,” Roy let out, and his tone got under your skin immediately. Maybe it was the booze, or the darkness outside, but when he caught your eye this time you felt like a deer in headlights. “Did you have any more questions?” 

You skimmed your laptop, but you knew you’d already asked everything you’d wanted to. It was just for show, just so that he’d think you had more to give. You didn’t want it to end just yet, not when the tension between you was inescapable. It was just a crush. It was just a crush. 

“One more,” you lied. You smiled at him playfully, before you gently started circling your finger on the rim of your glass. “You’re a professional footballer,” you stated, amused. 

“No fucking shit,” he replied. 

You huffed gently. “This is off the record, and just because I’m curious, and you do not have to answer it if you don’t–”

“You want to know how many famous people I’ve slept with,” he interrupted you. You froze, and your cheeks immediately warmed. He’d worked you the fuck out. 

“Just– an estimate.” Your voice was high pitched when it left your mouth. 

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Roy said, matching your amusement. 

Your expression flattened. “A few weeks ago you announced to the locker room that you’d slept with four of the Spice Girls, Roy,” you said plainly, and Roy sat up straight defensively. 

“Only because Tartt was fucking boasting and someone needed to shut him up!”

“Was it Posh Spice?” you asked. 

“What?”

“The one you didn’t sleep with, was it Posh Spice?”

“Fuck no,” he said immediately. After a beat, he added, “It was Ginger.” 

Your eyes widened at his response, but your laughter overtook you faster. You leaned back in your chair and burst with unavoidable chuckles, the kind that you felt in your belly, the ones that felt impossible to stop. Only when they started to settle did you sit up again, only to discover an utterly new look on Roy’s face. His features were soft and his jaw settled. There was a tiny smile on his lips, but not enough to show off his teeth, or to take up the entirety of his face. His eyes roamed your features gently, until you were certain you’d landed upon a name for his expression–

Affection. Roy was looking at you affectionately. 

You let out a final soft chuckle. “You’re fucking amazing,” you let out. 

Roy raised his brows, chuffed at your genuinity. “Is that why you wanted to write about me?”

You settled. “Yes,” you said, affectionately. It just sort of… fell out of your mouth. One word that was an exact copy of the look he was giving you. 

Electricity buzzed between you, enough to startle you innately. You glanced at the time on your laptop again– past midnight. You hated it, but you feared that time was up. You’d got all you’d needed, and you didn’t want to take up more of Roy’s time, despite the feeling that he had no desire to be done with the conversation. 

Roy’s eyes flicked back and forth between your own, frantically, like he couldn’t settle. He was on edge, he was buzzing, and he had no intention to break his focus from you. He knew it would come to an end though, when you inevitably mentioned the time and made another joke about being old at heart. He thought back to the night of the charity ball, then, when you unintentionally spent the entire evening together. When you’d walked off to the bathroom, he and Jamie had attempted to find a middle ground at the bar. All the while, his eyes had constantly flicked back and forth between the beer in his hands, and the direction that you’d walked. He’d only moved away from the bar for a moment, but when he’d returned to find it utterly empty, he knew you’d decided to leave. He couldn’t understand it then, but annoyance had struck him in the heart– you hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye, hadn’t even tried to find him again to send him an awkward wave before you walked home. That’s what led Roy to leave, himself. He took a final scan of the vast room, before he stuck his hands in his pockets and headed for the exit. When he emerged into the cold Richmond air, you were standing at the bottom of the steps, shaking subtly, as you tried (and failed) to find directions home, using Google Maps on your phone. It was an innate feeling that had him descending the steps and taking off his jacket, only to drape it over your bare shoulders. The same innate feeling hit him when you stood outside his house. It made him invite you in for a drink, but the look on your face had shown him everything– it was going to be a no, and that was the moment that had cemented who you were to him. Sensible. Smart. Holding yourself back. 

Roy had held himself back from things his entire life, but he didn’t want to do it anymore. He wanted to answer your questions genuinely and open himself up to being judged by others– by you, sat opposite him, looking into his eyes like you were trying to find something, anything, to talk yourself out of having another drink with him. 

“What about you?” Roy said suddenly, taking you– and himself– by surprise. 

You tilted your head at him. “What about me?”

“No, no, don’t be fucking coy,” Roy said, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “I told you my life story, now it’s your turn to tell me yours.”

You scoffed abruptly, trying to ignore the warmth that radiated on your cheeks. “Fuck no. We’d be here all night, and you definitely wouldn’t look at me the same way.”

“That’s the whole fucking point,” Roy said. “I want to look at you differently, the way that you’re looking at me right fucking now,” he said, gesturing to the affectionate and bashful expression on your face. 

He was right, you did know a lot more about him, and he knew fuck all about you. You felt mysterious for the first time in your entire life. There was a spark that glistened in your eye, one that was playful and ready to fall headfirst into this entire ordeal. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to open up to Roy– you did, oh man, you did– but you didn’t feel that now was the right time. Not after he’d just spilled his guts to you. 

Roy gently leaned forward again, sliding his arms out in front of him, until his hands were close enough to touch your own. “What have you got to lose?” he asked.

A fist-full of answers bombarded your skull. Nothing. Everything. You. Myself. All of the above. 

But the one you settled on, over all the rest, was the best one for you then. All the other words tried and failed to bounce over the wall that you’d built previously. You gently skimmed your fingers over Roy’s knuckles, trying to be playful. Touching Roy’s skin made your entire arm buzz with adrenaline. It shot up through your fingers and reverberated through your arm, until you got the shivers suddenly. You played it off as nothing. 

“Sleep. I’ve got sleep to lose,” you said. 

Roy’s hand twitched on the table, and for a second you thought he was going to reach out and take your hand in his. After your words hit him, however, he settled on retracting his hands back into his lap, and leaned back in his chair once more. He smiled at you in recognition, but you knew you’d just done it again– said no, when it was fucking obvious to both of you that you’d wanted to say yes. 

“Past ten-thirty, is it?” he said gently.

“Way past,” you confirmed, but the words felt sour in your mouth. 

Roy huffed to himself, but he didn’t come across like he was in any way annoyed. He shouldn’t be, you were perfectly within your right to call it a night, but you still felt guilty about it. Maybe that was a sign that you should stay. 

“Another time,” Roy said before you could. 

You smiled at him. “Another time.”

“I mean it,” he added, his voice transforming into something stern and dominating. “Otherwise we’re not fucking even.” 

You nodded, faking seriousness, despite the playful smile on your lips. “Everyone knows that not being even is illegal.” 

“Exactly.” Roy nodded. 

The conversation had reached its end. As you packed your belongings, Roy picked up the glasses and bottles from the table and took them to the kitchen. Quickly, he washed the two whiskey glasses in the sink, while you shuffled your bag into your shoulder. Left beneath it on the table was Roy’s jacket. You stared at it sharply, forgetting that you’d even brought it with you. 

Quickly, without fucking thinking, you picked it up and abruptly stuffed it into your bag. You shoved it between your laptop and a notebook, before you turned around to find that Roy was already looking at you. 

“You okay?” he asked, noticing the subtle panic on your face. 

You nodded. “Just checking I have everything.” 

Roy walked you to his front door. He was a few paces behind you the entire time, only looming over you when he reached forward to pull the latch on his solid wood door. He tugged it open, and you slotted yourself underneath the frame, before you turned around to face him. 

You peered up at him, meeting his eye without any hesitation. You let out a content sigh. “Thank you for doing this,” you said, and you really fucking meant it. 

“No problem,” he said gently. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m done with the article.”

Roy nodded in response, keeping his expression the same. You thought he’d say something smart, something that would make you chuckle or giggle, something that would make your cheeks warm violently once more, but he simply stayed silent as his eyes continued to skim over the features of your face. 

“Goodnight,” you said first, knowing it was best not to linger– even though you wanted to; even though Roy wanted you to. 

“Goodnight,” Roy said after, but neither of you moved a muscle. You didn’t step back and leave his front door step, nor did he step back and make an indication of closing his front door. 

Instead, Roy stepped forward. You froze as he leant down and placed a small peck on your cheek, one that was over just as soon as it had fucking began. For a split second, you felt the scratch of his beard and the warmth of his skin, and then it was gone. You smiled, and then, just like his kiss, you were gone.

On the walk home, you clutched your bag fiercely. Roy’s jacket felt like it was burning a hole through the fabric, but you didn’t fucking care. You weren’t ready to give it up yet, especially not when the prospect of another another time had cropped up once more. You tried not to think, but absolutely failed. Words scrambled in your head painfully, bashing the base of your skull and bumping into the plush walls of your brain. There was one word that screeched above all else, and it was only getting louder–

Him, him, him, him, him. 

On Monday, Jamie Tartt was gone. It was a shame, considering his abrupt change of heart at the so-called cleansing the previous week, and the fact that Ted had finally managed to get through to him in a way. In fact, Ted was seething. You didn’t think that Lasso had an angry bone in his body before the news dropped, but when he sullenly returned from Rebecca’s office, he took down Tartt’s football shirt from his cubby sadly. 

You leaned against the door to the manager’s office, shooting a sunken face at Ted as he gently pushed past you. 

“Well,” you said, turning around to face him. “This is shit.”

“That is a mighty fine way to put it,” Ted said, as he dropped Tartt’s shirt on his desk. “Man City recalled him. Guess they didn’t like the fact I put him on the bench.” 

You shrugged. “It’s a shame…. but, alternatively, now he’s Pep’s problem again.”

Ted, Beard and Nate all shot their stares to you instantly. You frowned at them, feeling uncomfortable suddenly. “What?” 

“You said something about football that was actually correct,” Beard said, gobsmacked.

You huffed, annoyed. “Come off it. I know a lot more about football now!” 

“About another team, even,” Nate said. “That’s impressive.” 

“Come on, guys. Leave her alone,” Ted said, stepping forward. “She still knows more about this sport than me.” 

You winced. “I know a lot more than I once did, Ted, but it’s still not a huge amount.” 

Tes shrugged. “That’s why I’ve got you guys!” He happily smiled around the room, looking at Beard and Nate in turn. You let out a scoff, before you sent them all a wave goodbye and headed back to your office. 

You had a day full of writing ahead of you, and you simply couldn’t wait.

As the weeks went by, you slept less and less. It got so bad that you’d often find yourself still awake when the sun was beginning to rise. Writing was all you could do. Alongside your assignments, you were dedicated to Roy’s article, spending any free time you had to yourself on it, and abandoning your usual self care and comfort.

The guys were scared of you, slightly. You were snappy and sleep deprived, with a one track mind that they couldn’t understand. Even Roy found himself concerned enough to eventually check up on you, which was a task for him, too.

He often thought back to a few weeks before, when you and he had chatted for hours about his life. You’d sat at his table, drank his beer, shared a whiskey with him— and then you’d left again. When you’d entered his house, he spotted his jacket on your arm, but as the night went on, both of you had forgotten about its inevitable return. Before you took your leave, Roy witnessed you shoving it back into your bag. He hadn’t said anything. He’d found it funny and endearing, and he had to admit to himself that he’d looked at you with the most affection he could muster at that moment. Not that you knew, not that he wanted you to, but Roy Kent had a definite soft spot for you. 

That was why he agreed to the article in the first place, after all. 

When he finally plucked up the strength to check on you, he found you at your desk— fast asleep. Your laptop was open in front of where you’d leaned your cheek down upon the wood, papers sprawled everywhere. There was an almost uncomfortable look on your face, like your subconscious knew that you should be awake and writing, yet it had finally overtaken you. 

He peered down at you softly, and balled his fists to stop himself from sitting down opposite you to gently push a few strands of hair from your face. He knew he should leave, but he also knew you’d get mad if you knew he’d seen you this way and not woken you. Slowly, softly, Roy leant down and gently poked a finger to your cheek. He did it a few times, whispering wake up, until you finally stirred. Anyone else in this fucking club and he would have yelled from the get-go, but you were different; he didn’t want to startle you. 

You came around finally, and flinched as soon as you opened your eyes. Seeing Roy’s face after an intense nap wasn’t something you were used to at all. You let out a visceral “Jesus fucking Christ!” 

Roy only perked his brow at you. “Dreaming about unicorns and rainbows, were you?” 

You rubbed your eyes tiredly, and stopped yourself from sleepily scratching them out of their sockets. “I wish.” Roy growled questioningly, wanting you to go on. You sighed. “I wasn’t dreaming about anything. Sorry to disappoint,” you said, peering up at him grumpily. It was your own fault that you felt so bad, you knew, but you’d been short with everyone for the last week because of it.

“Not to state the obvious, but you look fucking awful,” Roy said, to which you scoffed abruptly.

“Thanks for that,” you let out. 

“What the hell is up? Has something happened?” he asked, crossing his arms at you with stern concern. 

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s fine,” you said, waving him off. “There just aren’t enough hours in the day to do everything, or to stay awake for.” 

“Is this about the article?” Roy asked.

You guiltily peered up at him. “I just— can’t stop writing. It feels like I’ll fucking die if I spend a single minute away from it.” 

“You’re not gonna die by taking a break, but you will die from sleep deprivation. That’ll turn you fucking mental,” Roy said. 

You yawned— hugely. “I know, I know,” you said, before you settled. You allowed yourself to smile at him. “I’m almost done, actually. I’m so close.” 

Roy huffed. “Good. Take a fucking break then.” 

“I will, just not—,”

“Come to Liverpool with us, for the Everton game,” he said suddenly. “I know the lads want you with us, and it’ll give you time to calm the fuck down.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but you stopped when you actually thought about it. The Everton game was four days away, which meant you had three to finish the article completely, before you submitted it. You could do that. That was doable. 

“Well, I mean,” you started, before you finally shrugged. “I have been wanting to go to more away games. And, if the guys want it, then I definitely want to show my support.” You smiled at Roy with a finality. 

He nodded in approval and uncrossed his arms. “Okay,” he said softly. 

For a moment, the two of you looked at each other thoughtfully. Perhaps your minds were bombarding you both with flashbacks from a few weeks ago, when you’d both said goodbye at his door when it was obvious that neither of you had wanted to. Since then, due to how much work you had to fucking do, you hadn’t thought much of it. But at night, before bed, your mind often wandered. Roy’s face popping into your head had almost become normal, especially with the added security of his jacket still on the peg by your door. You called yourself silly for taking it back, but you still hadn’t returned it since that fumble. 

Roy cleared his throat abruptly, pulling both of you out of your thoughts. You sucked in a sharp breath and smiled at him, trying to cover up how loud your thoughts about him actually were. He did the same, inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, until the moment had dissipated. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Roy said, breaking the silence. 

You huffed affectionately. “Thank you.”

Rod nodded, before he headed to the door and left. You leaned back in your chair when you were alone, stretching your arms above your head to get some feeling back into them after your nap. You stared at the ceiling for a moment, noticing the cracks in the cinder block bricks and the awful paint job, but it was only to distract you from thinking about Roy. 

Roy, who was definitely a gentleman in disguise. Roy, whose jacket you had on a peg in your flat. Roy, who wanted you around him and his team. Roy fucking Kent. Writing the article didn’t make your crush on him any easier, but only perpetuated your feelings to oblivion. 

A few days later, while you laid in bed at God knew what time, your heart swelled to a thousand times the size of normal. You’d just written the final sentence, just tweaked the final edits, and your article was finally done. In a frenzy, you opened the Independent’s website and immediately went to submit it, but you stopped yourself before you could. Somewhere within you, you knew that you needed Roy to read it before you could, otherwise it wouldn’t be fair. With one more day until travelling to Everton, you knew it wasn’t the best time at all. You’d tell him after the match that you were done, and as soon as he read it, you’d submit it if he was happy. 

You went to sleep elated and buzzed, but still managed to drag yourself to work the following morning. You clutched your laptop to your chest as if it were a fucking child, trying not to scare yourself into thinking that Roy would hate what you’d written about him. As you entered your office, you found Keeley sat at your desk. You flinched in surprise as you turned the corner, but that surprise very quickly turned into a smile at her presence. 

“Hey babe!” Keeley said, jumping up from your chair and rounding your desk quickly. She picked up one of two coffee cups from the desktop and handed it to you. “I brought you coffee.”

You took it from her, but you weren’t dumb. Keeley was here for something, and you didn’t know what. “Alright– what do you want?” you said, shooting her a playful look. 

Keeley let you settle behind your desk, as she started pacing the space of your office. You dropped your laptop down and sat in your chair heavily, trying not to show just how tired you were. 

“Well, I know you’re coming to Liverpool with us tomorrow, but I had a feeling that you might be done with your article…” 

You rolled your eyes at her, tapping the lid of your coffee cup. “You want to read it, don’t you?”

Keeley lunged at your desk, shooting herself forward so your noses almost touched. “Of course, I do! After reading what you wrote about Rebecca last time, I’ve been dying to read more of your stuff.”

You opened your laptop up, smiling to yourself as you clicked onto the article. It was already loaded on the Independent's website, you just hadn’t sent it off. “I could do with someone looking at it, actually. I… I don’t know if I’m going to submit it.”

“Why?” Keeley said, taking a seat on your desk before you. 

You peered up at her, furrowing your brows. “I don’t know if it’s good enough.” 

“Well,” Keeley said, quickly spinning the laptop in her direction. “I’ll be happy to sing your praises after I read it.” 

You smiled at her smally, grateful to have her in your life. “Speaking of Rebecca, I actually have a meeting with her this morning,” you said, as you stood. “Happy reading!” you added, and Keeley practically jumped back into your chair as you left. 

You walked to Rebecca’s office slowly, breathing through the immense grogginess that you felt. You drank Keeley’s coffee in record time, but the caffeine wasn’t enough on its own. You knew you should go home to rest, but you didn’t want to when all that you were feeling was self-inflicted. You could sleep early when you got home, and on the bus up to Liverpool in the morning. You’d live. 

You knocked on the door to Rebecca’s office a minute later, and let yourself in when she mumbled it was okay to do so. “Oh, good morning, darling,” she said, waving you inside as you shut the door behind you. She stopped smiling when she got a proper look at you. “Fucking hell, what’s wrong with you?” 

You laughed tiredly. “Good morning to you, too,” you croaked. “I’m just… a little tired.”

“I can see that,” she said, looking at you up and down with concern. She stood abruptly and whisked herself over to her bar cart, while you swayed on the spot in front of her desk. “Sit,” she instructed you, pointing at you sternly, before she went back to her plan. You did as you were told. 

Rebecca popped a coffee pod into the top of her Nespresso machine and placed a cup beneath the spout. When she clicked a button the machine started to thrum, before a boiling hot and aromatic stream of coffee was produced. When it was done, Rebecca placed the espresso in your hands and perched back onto her desk. She peered down at you the way a mother would sternly tell off her child. 

“Why do you look like you haven’t slept in days?”

“Because I haven’t slept in days,” you replied, subtly huffing at your own joke. Rebecca shot daggers at you. “Sorry. It’s just this article for the competition.”

“The one about Roy?” she asked. 

You nodded. “I finished it last night, actually, so I won’t be like this for much longer, don’t worry.” You took a trepidatious sip of coffee, but as it slinked down your throat you felt your heart buzz with electricity. It was both invigorating and incredibly anxiety inducing. 

“Congratulations,” Rebecca said, and her expression changed to something softer. “Have you sent it off yet?”

“No,” you said lowly. “I don’t think I will for a bit longer.”

“Why?”

You winced. You knew that if you were to tell Rebecca and Keeley the reason for you not sending it off, that they’d only yell at you to get over it. Roy agreed to this from the start, so surely he was fine with you actually submitting it. “It’s just that I want Roy to read it before I do, is all.” 

Rebecca let out an abrupt cackle, so loud that it startled you. Your espresso wobbled in your hand. “Oh, please. Roy wouldn’t know a good article if it reached out and punched him in the face. Nor would he care.” 

Rebecca was right, even if it hurt for her to say it. “I know, I know. It’s just that it’s about him, and I don’t want him to hate what I’ve written.”

“Of course, he’s going to hate it,” Rebecca said immediately, and your face soured. “And that’s no reflection on you, darling, it’s all on him. I think you should submit it, just get it over with.” 

You let out a sigh. As much as you knew she was right, you wanted to believe that Roy cared about what you’d written. You felt you’d done him justice, that you’d written about what actually mattered in his life, but there was always an element of the unknown when you wrote about someone else. Would they like it? Would they think it was shit? All those same questions cropped up at you with Roy Kent as the subject, and you knew that you’d find out what he thought of it one way or another– whether that was when he read it on your laptop, or in the paper. 

But still, you respected him. This wasn’t just a one woman job, this wasn’t just about you, this was about him, too. And despite understanding every reason that was laid out in front of you, you still wanted approval from him before you sent it off. That was the end of it. 

You took another sip of espresso, and Rebecca sent you a raised brow stare. There was some playfulness behind it, some giddiness that made you both look and feel like schoolgirls again. Rebecca moved to sit opposite you, picking up her tea and sipping upon it to match you. You caught eyes with her, immediately understanding what she was saying to you telepathically. 

Something is happening between you and him, isn’t it?

You finished your espresso, while Rebecca placed her cup down on its saucer again. She leaned her chin on her knuckles as you sorted yourself out opposite her. You shuffled in your chair and sat back comfortably, and when you looked up again you saw that she was staring at you with a concerned gaze, once again. 

You let out a huff. “Rebecca, I’m fine.” 

“Be careful,” she said softly, seriously. 

You frowned at her, confused. “Of what?”

“He’s a footballer,” she continued. “We should all be careful of footballers. Especially the kind ones.” 

You swallowed her words forcefully. It was only then that you dawned on all of this being scary. A crush could turn into more, especially with how Roy was around you. You felt special, it was true, and that was the most dangerous thing of all. Inside you, that wall shot itself towards the sky once more. Behind it, you tried trampling your feelings down, but you knew it wouldn’t hold them at bay forever. 

You started your meeting, and for that hour, you didn’t think about Roy once. 

Downstairs, beneath two layers of concrete, Keeley Jones finished reading your article. It was brilliant, and she knew that if you didn’t win it would be an absolute crime. She skimmed her favourite parts over and over again, and was pleasantly surprised to find herself looking at Roy in a different light after inhaling your words about him. She harboured a bad feeling that made her believe you’d never actually submit it, whether it was from your fear of being good or not, or something else entirely.

That’s what led her to a lightbulb moment, one that overtook her senses and had her checking if you were returning from Rebecca’s office. When she saw the coast was clear, she smiled to herself. Lucky for her, you were all ready to actually submit your work, but she knew you needed a bit of a boost– in the form of her doing it for you. 

Quickly, deviously, Keeley scrolled to the bottom of the application page. Without thinking of any consequences, she clicked the big green button that said SUBMIT. 

CHAPTER FIVE

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes @20th-centu-fairy-girl @royalestrellas @weakmoony-stuff @ironmanmagnetfridge @lemonpiegurll @hellomagicalsouls @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld @old-enough-to-know-better73 @djarindroid @afraidofshrimp @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses @sogoodtoheritsvicious @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke @onceuponaoneshot @jamieolivia27 @dadbodfanatic-x @kelp-dreaming @harrypedro465 @lonely-escape-artist @abeeabeeabee @nicklet94 @libsybum @cha0sdreaming 

[jbeespoke]

This pic is so trash, bro...

A friend of mine and I challenged each other to take at least one pic a day and write about it. There are no limits. No restrictions. Take a pic and post it...

So boom - my NYE and New Year's Day was interesting. To be honest, I' m not exactly sure how I feel about it, but either way, I decided that I was going to be productive today. I was going to control everything that I could control.

I got up. I prayed. I sat on my couch - hoping for some down time before I started tackling my tasks for the day.

As I sat on my couch, the sun seemed to shine so bright through my window. I looked out, and to my surprise, it actually wasn't as bright as it seemed. There were quite a few clouds, but the sun was putting up a fight.

I saw the sun for the first time in months.

And then it hit me - "this would be the perfect first post for the daily challenge"

I got up. Threw on a pair of raw denims, a yellow hoodie, a tartan, Sherpa-lined flannel, a pair of Boston's and went outside!

I knew that I wouldn’t have a great angle from where I was at, so I walked to the corner so that my pic could tell a better story. Once I hit the corner, all I could think of was that Jay line from "God Did":

Judge it how you judge it, say we goin' corporate Nah, we just corner boys with the corner office

I had the perfect caption!

I was standing on the corner, on the first day of the year, breathing, looking at the sun peak through the clouds. What an amazing sign from God.

"Oh what a feeling"

I was so hype lol. I walked to the other corner and attempted another "artsy" pic. That pic was so trash, bro...

I had no idea any of these pics were so trash at the time of taking them, btw. Each time, after taking the pic, you couldn't tell me I wasn't Jamel Shabazz.

Once I got inside and looked at the pics, I realized that these pics were so trash, bro.

Then God reminded me of the greatness that occurred because of these "trash" pics:

I was forced to go outside. That's a good thing. I spent way too many consecutive days inside, without getting fresh air in 2023. Mod ting, bruv

It was like going to the gym. By using that part of my brain, I am strengthening and toning my creativity muscles

I was able to clear some mental space - which made room for the completion of some incomplete tasks

I was able to put action to my prayer. Walking back, I saw so much garbage on the street and on the sidewalk in the surrounding area of where I stay. At first, I walked right past it. But it didn't sit right with me. For the longest time, I've been praying about our communities and have been complaining about how we treat our own. "Our" being the black community. There's no reason why the areas in which we live have to look run down. Or a place where it's acceptable for trash to be left. But, I also can't be praying about it, wanting everyone else to do better, and I not take the necessary steps to make sure my community is clean. So I swept up the random corn on the cob, the Popeyes and cupcake boxes, and all the rest of the random trash that was left behind from the city workers. I didn't clean everything and I didn't go very far outside of my immediate area, but it was a start. Hopefully it's something that I can continue, and hopefully someone will see and do the same

Character. I was able to add more wear and tear to my raw denims and birks lol

When I feel like I'm not being heard, I sometimes forget to hear myself. Today, because of these trash pics, I was able to start the process of EQ-ing my voice. I'm behind the mixing board of my life. Turning a lot of other things down. Turning me up.

Welcome to the experience.

Thank You God for another day. Thanks for allowing me to see 2024. Thanks for not only the sun, but the SON. Thank You for hearing me when I didn't hear myself - You're fighting for me.

This was my accountability post. I have no idea what the format is going to be in the upcoming posts and I'm not going to think about it. This is just how I felt today.

I started. I can't stop now.

written from my corner office

[aerialassassin]

I'm not the same kid that was stupid and immature back in 2018-2019. I'm a whole new, evolved, changed man. But maybe I should go back to my roots. I was an Assassin before all of this. Maybe going back is what'll help me beat you. You say that you're the only reason why people cared about New Japan, and the fact that you're so self-centered and don't want the company to succeed just proves that you just don't give a shit. You're not here to help New Japan, you're all in it for yourself. Sucks to see that someone like the great Kenny Omega is actually a selfish puss on the inside. I finally get the platform to tell my story, after two whole fucking years, and I'm not gonna lose that chance because of you. No way. I was at my peak back then and you chose to kick me out. Like I said earlier, it's like if HHH kicked you out in 2017. I was just getting started. You crushed my dreams bruv. I hope that eats you alive, and I'll make sure of it come Wrestle Kingdom. I still don't understand why you did it, and I probably never will since you've become everything that you said you were against. I'm no longer going to be robbed of opportunities to showcase myself to UnityVerse anymore. I'm going to give it everything I have, and like I said I'm willing to sacrifice my life for it all because I have a lot of years in me left. But for you though... it seems like the clock is ticking isn't it bruv? You're pushing 40 and still coming after me, it's quite embarassing really. I had to make a name for myself when I got back. What better way than for myself and the United Empire to attack The Elite? There truly wasn't any other option. Just know that I'll be ready for anything no matter what you say. Things have changed a whole lot since you left. I know you're still upset because I hurt your friend when I debuted the Hidden Blade, and he couldn't be there with you for your last match. You didn't get to say goodbye. But come Wrestle Kingdom, I'll retain my title and send you out of NJPW for good! Just try and stop me. It's time to pass the torch to the real Best In The World and the new Best Citizen of UnityVerse.

Someone's been awfully quiet recently. Can't help but wonder how ready you actually are for the Tokyo Dome, @aerialassassin. I think a big part of you is afraid that you can't show UnityVerse that you belong here. I challenge you to prove me wrong. Wrestle Kingdom. You better be ready.

[ptergwen]

smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

-

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it. 

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions. 

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

[hellsite-yano]

Howdy Porky, sorry for the late birthday wishes, had to help my baby brother move some shit back from his dorms (he's graduating this weekend!)

It's always a treat and a delight to see ya on my dash, with your endlessly great taste, blazing hot takes, worldly wisdom, and just some much needed chill from a person in a bonkers timeline.

I know that like a year ago or so, I think you mentioned that you wanted to talk here more, as like a new year's resolution or summat. I'm happy to see you've kept to that, whether it's full post additions or great bits in the notes. I always love hearing what's on your mind (as it's almost always based af), and I hope you continue doing so.

Happy Birthday bruv. Here's to countless more happy ones from now on.

Cheers.

Thanks for the kind words, man. I'm always glad to see you in my notes, and congrats to your brother for graduating!!

[maybeebeee]

The Instance of the Curry Cup

Hi! I haven’t written and posted something in quite a while, but Pokemon SWSH has absolutely consumed my life so here’s a little thing while I’m writing a much bigger thing!

A group chat leads to a party that leads to a curry cooking competition. Piers relentlessly teases Gloria for having a crush on Hop. Hop has a crisis. Just another day in the life of some of Galar's most prominent figures.

As a note for the group chat section of this fic, here are the nicknames to note which characters are who!

Hippity Hop = Hop Eat Sand = Raihan Champion Time Snr = Leon Croon Toondra = Gloria Mermaid = Nessa Big Tiddy Goth GF = Piers Flame Dad(dy) = Kabu Wooloolooloo = Milo Kung Fu Fighting = Bea Rocky Horror = Gordie Baby Goth = Marnie

Rated G, some mild language use | Hop, Gloria, and the other rivals are around 15/16 | Read on AO3 or under the cut!

It had all started with a group chat.

Not long after becoming Champion, Gloria had been added to the gym leader group chat. Leon, Piers, and Opal were still in it and she had learned quickly that Piers, Gordie, and Raihan were the instigators of most of the chaos in that chat. Marnie seemed to encourage her brother a little too much on that front, but overall it was fairly controlled chaos.

Then the second group chat came about.

Raihan had started it, mainly to avoid Melony’s constant reminders to be aware of the language being used with Allister around on the other chat. Subsequently, neither Melony nor Allister were on the new chat.

Nearly everyone else was, though, besides Opal. Even Hop and Sonia had been added, given that it was more of an open chat than the “official” gym leader one. Given that combination, however, it was far more of an ordeal to try and deal with that group, and with Piers and Raihan apparently never sleeping at all, it felt like Gloria’s Rotomphone was constantly buzzing with notifications at even the most insane hours of the night.

It had been just over a year since she’d won the Champion Cup, and Gloria now found herself standing in the kitchen of Leon’s sizable flat in Wyndon, surrounded by the physical embodiment of the most ridiculous parts of that second group chat.

Raihan had suggested the party-but-not a few weeks back, and after a fair bit of negotiating schedules, it had been decided that tonight was the best night to do it, so here they all were. Gloria was glad for the reprieve from her neverending Champion duties, and she’d been absolutely over the moon to see Hop again after what seemed like forever.

And now here she was, knocking elbows with her rival-slash-best friend as they and a bunch of their partially tipsy adult friends battled it out in what had been dubbed the Curry Cup by whoever had suggested the stupid idea in the first place. Probably Raihan.

“Two minutes left!” Slurred Sonia from across the bench. She was just about completely relying on Nessa to stay on her feet at this point, yet somehow still had it in her to decide how much longer those of them competing could cook for. Coming to these gatherings had certainly been an eye-opening experience for Gloria, seeing so many of the most well-known figures in Galar coming together and getting completely sauced for the hell of it.

“You said ten minutes literally thirty seconds ago!” Hop whined, haphazardly throwing in some extra ingredients to finish off his curry when Sonia simply waved him off. Gloria wondered how much of Sonia’s hangover her friend would have to deal with at the lab in the morning, or if the young professor simply wouldn’t show up at all.

It certainly wasn’t two minutes before all of the participants were ushered away from their curries, but Hop still seemed quite confident with his final product. Gloria couldn’t say the same for her own, especially being so used to taking her time with cooking when she camped out with her Pokemon. Not that she had much time to do that anymore, really.

“Sorry to say, but I’m definitely crushing you in this competition, mate, I can just feel it!” Hop said as he slung a friendly arm around Gloria’s shoulders, watching intently as Sonia, Nessa, and Bea walked along the row of curries on the bench to judge them all. Gloria tried to ignore how warm her face was suddenly feeling, but the look she got from Piers told her she wasn’t doing a great job at hiding it.

Damn her own big mouth for blabbing to him about her crush on Hop, the one time she couldn’t sleep and happened to be awake at three in the morning, with Piers being the only one she could think to message at that hour. It had been a good conversation, actually, but still.

Every time she’d seen him since then, it seemed like he was teasing her about Hop. Even directly in front of Hop. It was constant, but Piers claimed it was because Marnie didn’t get crushes on people, so he was using her as a stand-in when it came to teasing about that kind of thing.

Ignoring the ex-gym leader’s very obvious silent mocking, Gloria turned her attention back to Hop and lightly elbowed him in the side before wrapping her own arm around him in return. “As if,” She laughed, “Who’s the undefeated champion in this room? I’ve got this in the bag.”

As it turned out, neither of them were destined to be crowned the Curry Cup Champion, and the competition ultimately went to Leon. Hop decided that it was all rigged because the judges weren’t sober, and had wandered back into the living room with a dramatic huff as most of the other guests went to congratulate his brother.

Piers seemed to take the opportunity to suddenly appear next to Gloria with a ridiculously smug look on his face. “Seems you’re ‘aving fun. Said anything to ‘im yet?”

She folded her arms and pouted crossly. “No. Cannae say anythin’ with you nearby anyway, you’re such a pest.”

Piers scoffed. “Please. I’m doing the both of you a favour, bruv, since ‘e won’t say it and neither will you. The two’ve you are gonna go crazy if this keeps up. I’m gonna go crazy if I ‘ave to watch you idiots keep dancin’ around each other for the rest of time!”

“Shut up, he’s obviously not got anythin’ to say on the topic. Do ye know how much he talks? Surely he’d have said something by now if there was somethin’ to say.”

“Do you ‘ave any idea how much he talks to me? ‘E always messages me at times kids your age shouldn’t be up, sayin’ how he doesn’t want to bother you but can’t sleep and keeps thinkin’ about you so ‘e decided to message me and blah blah blah. Please just tell ‘im so that he actually messages you when he’s thinkin’ about you, there’s only so much more of his sappy shit I can take.” Piers practically begged, seeming like he was mere seconds away from pulling out his phone to show her the evidence. Gloria didn’t doubt that Hop had messaged him plenty, but she still wasn’t convinced that he reciprocated her feelings, even though she knew she had no reason not to believe Piers.

Still, she pulled up the collar of her cardigan to try and hide the bright blush on her face at the thought of Hop being all sappy about her. The question still remained, though, “Why doesn’t he just tell me that himself? Not like he hasn’t messaged me at four AM before sayin’ he misses me or whatever. Gotta say I’ve done the same, prob’ly more sappy than him too.”

Piers gave a dramatic sigh and turned back towards the kitchen. “I need another drink. You’re ‘opeless, the both of you.”

Gloria let out a huff of her own, but decided now would be a good time to retreat after her rival, hoping that maybe now they could actually catch up a bit more now that she’d gotten Piers off her back and everyone else was still preoccupied in the kitchen. Only, she got to the living room and found Marnie and Bede, with no Hop in sight. The other two weren’t sure where he’d gone, only giving a vague direction to “outside.”

With that clue in mind, Gloria headed for the balcony, recalling how Hop had mentioned once that he liked to stand out there and see if he could spot Postwick in the distance, past all of Wyndon’s bright lights and vast expanse of the Wild Area even further past that. It seemed like a good place to start.

True to her assumption, Hop was leaning against the railing and squinting out into the night, so she casually sidled up next to him and prodded his shoulder. “Thinkin’ about something, Hopscotch?” She questioned, a gentle teasing note in her voice.

Hop shrugged. “Nothing to worry about, mate. Just the usual.” His tone was flatter than Gloria had been expecting, so she raised an unconvinced eyebrow at him despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at her yet.

“The good usual or the anxiety usual?” The teasing was gone now, replaced with concern as she let her hand rest on Hop’s shoulder. Many late-night phone calls over the past year had made Gloria well aware of the fact that her best friend still suffered greatly from the many untruths and insecurities that his mind threw at him, even though he seemed to be doing better than he ever had before on the outside, and it was always heartbreaking to watch when he got like this.

“Stop calling me out like that.” Hop joked halfheartedly, his weak smile quickly falling back into a frown, “But really, don’t worry. Just me getting all upset over something stupid again, which is the usual.”

Gloria squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll bet my hat it’s not stupid. Is it the competition?”

He nodded sheepishly following a moment of silence, as if he knew he wasn’t getting out of this now. “It is stupid. Who gets worked up about losing some stupid curry contest that Raihan came up with anyway? It was supposed to just be some fun thing and I ruined it for myself by...by doing what I always bloody do, you know? Losing, and then getting upset about losing, and then getting upset because I know I’m never going to be number one at anything, and then beating myself up for being so stupid, and--”

“Hey.” Gloria interjected, “You’re not stupid, you hear me? Losing doesn’t make ye stupid. Being upset about things doesn’t make you stupid, and your brain lying to you about your worth doesn’t make ye stupid. You are not stupid, alright? You’re strong.” She encouraged, shifting to settle her arm properly across Hop’s shoulders and pull him closer to her side. Their height difference was making it a little harder now that he’d suddenly sprouted almost half a head taller than her since the last time they’d seen each other, but Gloria didn’t care.

Hop didn’t say anything, but leaned into her a little more, so she continued. “You wanna know a secret? You’re my number one. Always have been. So don’t go sayin’ you’re not the best at anything, because you’re the best to me.”

There was nothing but the sound of Wyndon's bustling streets below for a long moment, but suddenly Gloria was being pulled into a tight hug, with Hop's head resting atop hers. "Thanks. Really." He breathed into her hair, "For the record, you're my number one, too. Undefeated champ or not." The soft laugh he let out that time was genuine, and Gloria couldn't help the smile that came to her face in response. Never would there be another sound as sweet as Hop's laughter, she thought. 

When she finally leaned back just enough to look at Hop properly, Gloria had to take a breath to compose herself, suddenly noticing the lack of space between their faces. She hadn't intended on that happening, so she tried to ignore it, like she always tried to ignore her feelings for him. "Say, I was thinkin' about going camping in the Wild Area tonight, wanna tag along? We could make some curry together with our Pokemon, no competition allowed." That wasn't exactly the usual way one went about ignoring their feelings, but at this point she figured it didn't matter. How many times had they camped out together anyway? No big deal.

Hop beamed. "Sounds brilliant! Shall we go now?"

Gloria laughed, but was already reaching into her bag to find Flygon’s pokeball. Since becoming Champion she’d realised she needed to be extra careful about keeping her Pokemon as close to her as possible, especially given that she now had Zamazenta as a trusted member of her team. She didn’t want anything to happen to any of her dear Pokemon friends, which was why these days she always kept her bag on her, or at least within arm’s reach no matter where she was. Just in case.

Flygon let out a happy trill as it burst from its pokeball, setting down expectantly on the balcony behind Hop and Gloria as if it already knew their plan. The two young trainers quickly climbed aboard the eager Pokemon's back, and Gloria's heart began to race when Hop settled in behind her and curled his arms around her waist. We're about to take off, you daft bastard, of course he's gotta hold onto something, she reminded herself. 

“Alright, Flygon, let’s get goin’. To the Wild Area!” Gloria announced. The Pokemon didn’t hesitate to take to the sky once again, both of its passengers whooping with delight once the initial jolts and jerks had passed. Maybe a Flying Taxi would’ve been a smoother ride, but there was something so much better about trusting your own Pokemon enough to transport you safely to where you wanted to go, and it was certainly cheaper than paying to get all the way to the Motostoke side of the Wild Area from Wyndon in a Flying Taxi.

It had already been reasonably dark when they’d left Wyndon, being a little while after dinner time by then, but by the time they made it to North Lake Miloch it was well and truly night time outside. Gloria had actually started to doze off at some point when there had been a pause in conversation, and she awoke with a start as Flygon landed back on the ground. Thank goodness for Hop being able to direct Flygon as effectively as she could herself.

Still, the heat rushed back to her cheeks when she realised that she’d been leaning almost entirely back into Hop’s chest as she’d fallen asleep, but by that point she could only hope that he hadn’t taken too much notice of it. They’d fallen asleep on each other plenty of times, anyway, why should it matter now? Catching feelings was annoying.

If Hop had thought anything of it, he didn’t mention it, and the two of them went about setting up camp with as much friendly banter as usual. Gloria had a handful of berries and half a bag of mushrooms in her supplies, while Hop had some other berries to contribute as well as a few potatoes. They figured it would all mix well enough together, so they let out all of their Pokemon and set to work.

“Maybe letting twelve Pokemon have free reign of the camp wasn’t the best idea.” Hop commented when Gloria’s Flareon came up for the third time to try and taste some of the curry before it was ready. 

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” The Champion said coyly, gently shooing away her meddlesome Pokemon, “They’re all such angels, they’re not doing anything wrong at all.”

Hop laughed. “You’re right, it’s just Flareon. And also our Dubwools chasing each other around everywhere. And Zacian and Zamazenta looking like they’re about to murder anyone that dares get too close to the camp.”

Gloria shrugged as she fished around for a few plates to get ready for serving up. “At least they’re looking out for us. I feel better having them ‘round, just in case.” 

“Fair call.”

Not long after that, the curry was served and most of the Pokemon had been settled down by the offer of some food. Hop and Gloria sat close together by the fire that Flareon and Hop’s Cinderace were keeping an eye on, and chatted idly about this and that, all sorts of things that they’d missed in each other’s lives since the last time they were able to meet up, or even have a long conversation on the phone. 

There were neverending topics to cover. Hop being able to do research on some of his own projects now, Gloria’s latest exhibition matches, silly things they’d caught their Pokemon doing...it always felt as though they’d never missed a beat when they saw each other, like no matter where they left off they could always pick it right back up again.

“You know,” Hop said after a while, once they’d both truly lost track of time and could only guess that it was some time in the middle of the night by now. Gloria was leaning against his shoulder, with his arm casually draped around her in return as they both lay up against their Dubwools. “I really wish we got to do this more. I mean I know we’re both really busy and all now, but…” He sheepishly glanced away, “I dunno. I just miss you, mate. A lot.”

Gloria gave a gentle smile and leaned into Hop a little more. “I know the feeling. Seems like we went from seeing each other every day when we were growin’ up, to once or twice a week during our Gym Challenge, to now...what, once a month if we’re lucky? It’s stupid, I just wanna see my best friend all the time.” She sighed.

How long would it be after this time that they’d be able to spend an extended period of time together like this again? Sure, Gloria had tomorrow as well, but after that she had to head to Kalos for Arceus knew how long for all manner of exhibition matches and photoshoots and advertising campaigns. It was unfair how little time she got to spend at home anymore, she still didn’t know how Leon managed to do it for ten years straight, and from an even younger age than her, for that matter! 

Hop’s next quiet comment cut her out of her spiralling thoughts. She could’ve sworn there was a slight blush tingeing his cheeks, but it could’ve just been the firelight. “Best friend, huh?”

She quirked up a brow in surprise and sat up slightly. “Aye? Always have been, always will be, you know that. Is...something wrong?” Surely this wasn’t going where her lovestruck teenage brain was hoping it would. There was no way Hop liked her like that as well. Piers could not be right about this whole thing.

The boy in question kept his gaze trained on his lap, but Gloria felt his fingers tapping a nervous pattern on her shoulder, where he still had his arm around her. “I, um.” Hop started, rather eloquently, “I...like you. As in, like like you. And I think I have for a really long time but I just never wanted to say anything because I figured you wouldn’t like me back since we were always just best friends, but...sorry. You don’t have to like me back, I just wanted to let you know. Just in case, I guess. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have opened my big mouth.”

Gloria could’ve sworn her heart stopped in that moment. She felt like she was acting on autopilot when she reached over to grab Hop’s free hand, only hesitating for a fraction of a second before pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek as well. His skin was soft and warm under her lips, and she felt so giddy as she drew back to look at Hop’s adorably surprised expression, his wide golden eyes and slightly parted lips. An irrational part of her mind wanted to lean in and kiss him properly, but now certainly wasn’t the right time for that.

“Of course I like you back, Hopscotch. Honestly cannae believe you didn’t notice how unsubtle Piers was being about teasin’ me literally every single opportunity he got, he’s an idiot.” Gloria laughed, giving his hand a squeeze as he seemed to still be processing what had just happened.

Hop managed to sputter out a laugh of his own a second later, pulling Gloria closer to his side and planting a little kiss of his own to her head. “Are you kidding me? I thought Piers was teasing me about it constantly. I had a three AM crisis to him months ago about it, I can’t believe it.”

Gloria snorted in her laughter, causing a few of their nearby Pokemon to look at her with concern. “I did the exact same thing. Arceus above, I really thought he was havin’ a laff when he said you were messaging him about me!”

“Serious? With the way he said it I was sure he was kidding when he said you were doing the same thing as me! Maybe he was right, we really are dumb.”

Somehow they ended up in a bit of a tangle as they laughed, unapologetically clinging to each other now that they were both apparently on the same page with what it all meant. Maybe nothing had really changed that much with their admissions at all, maybe - much to both of their dismay - Piers had been right, and they’d just been subconsciously waiting for someone to say something this whole time. 

Either way, once they had finally composed themselves enough to focus, Gloria leaned in to press her cheek up against Hop’s. “So...Hop, my dearest best friend and favourite rival.” She teased, “You wanna...be my boyfriend as well?”

Hop grinned, his eyes crinkling up with glee. “Gloria, mate, my number one and favourite champ, obviously yes.”

Gloria beamed. “Great. Brilliant.” She whispered giddily.

The following morning, a photo of the two of them in close quarters surrounded by several of their Pokemon was sent to the group chat, accompanied by a short message.

Hippity Hop [7:48AM] :

sorry we disappeared last night lads, spontaneous camping trip! also we’re dating now. have a great day :)

Eat Sand [7:49AM] :

wait...you weren’t already dating???

bloody hell my life is a lie

leon why’ve you been lying to me

Champion Time Snr [7:53AM] :

this is news to me mate i thought they’d been dating since they started the gym challenge

Croon Toondra [7:54AM] :

WHAT?!?

....you’re havin a laff right

Eat Sand [7:54AM] :

no lee really said he thought hop was your boyf

Croon Toondra [7:55AM] :

canny believe ye lee

thought we were friends

Champion Time Snr [7:55AM] :

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Mermaid [7:58AM] :

honestly i agree w/ the boys i thought you were bf + gf for ages

sonia said you were

she can’t defend herself rn she’s still passed out hungover so

Big Tiddy Goth GF [8:00AM] :

bout time innit

felt like reality tv at this point

congrats tho took you ages

Flame Dad(dy) [8:03AM] :

Congratulations, although I have to say I was also under the impression you had been together since the Gym Challenge.

Wooloolooloo [8:04AM] :

Same here! You two are right cute though so congrats :)

Kung Fu Fighting [8:07AM] :

yeah rai told most of us that lee told him ages ago so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ good job anyway you cute

Rocky Horror [8:10AM] :

think we can all just agree someone was wrong and we’ll leave it there

that someone was lee but we’ll ignore that

reckon he’s just tryin to get us off his back about him and rai ;)

Champion Time Snr [8:11AM] :

thanks everyone appreciate it

also gordie please shut up

Hippity Hop [8:12AM] :

I forgive you lee!

at least for the sake of this group chat >:)

Big Tiddy Goth GF [8:14AM] :

get him hop it’ll be funny

lee watch out bruv

also you’re literally as bad as the kids with your feelings it’s disgusting

Baby Goth [8:15AM] :

Ignoring piers i’m happy for you two :D

Also thought it was a thing but that’s coz it just seemed like you were

No one actual said anythin to me

Croon Toondra [8:17AM] :

love ye all but i’m also fookin over ye dkjafhf

lee just go sulk and cuddle your boyf

Eat Sand [8:18AM] :

who’s lee’s boyf???? >:(

oh wait i see

fml

[muse-oleum]

Fucknemies part II

Long time no see! This is part two of my series Fucknemies, following Harry Hart and Agent Kay (haven’t named her; don’t think i will at this stage). 

You can find part I here. 

Enjoy! 

Summary: Agent Kay wakes up after being shot. Harry and her have a heart to Hart. 

Word count: 1.2 k

Warnings: none 

Kay woke up with the disagreeable sensation of having drunk too much. The feeling was so unnatural that she laid there for a few minutes, wondering why she had broken her lifelong promise to never drink. 

“Who’s the moron who got me drunk last night?” she moaned pitifully, the pain in her body becoming more of a background lull as she heard someone fidget with something by the side of her bed. 

“No one mate, you did this all by yourself.” 

A brief silence.

“Eggsy?”

“Yeah. Welcome back to the world bruv. Happy you’re not dead.” 

“Why would I be dead?”

“Cuz you took a bullet, you moron. In the thigh. Brushed the artery and it wasn’t pretty. Ya should have heard Harry swear.” 

“Well, fuck.”

“You don’t say. How are you feeling?”

“Like a train hit me and then decided once wasn’t enough.”

“Rox said the same when she was shot. Said it felt like a really, really bad hangover except you didn’t even have the blessings of oblivion.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Kay cleared her throat. Immediately, someone had a glass of water ready. She hadn’t noticed the shadow on her right. Opening her eyes slightly and wincing against the brightness of the room, she could just about make out who it was. 

“Harry?” 

Eggsy shot him a questioning look. He’d never heard Kay call Harry by his name. She’d always made a point of using his code name, always with the same slightly sarcastic tone which infuriated him. Now she was almost… shy? Unsure?

“You need to rest. We just came in to see if you were stable.”

That was a lie and they all knew it. 

“And the monitors couldn’t tell you that?” 

“Couldn’t stop him, bruv.”

There was another silence. Eggsy stood up, clearing his throat. 

“I promised Merlin I’d pop by. He’s got a new contraption to test and I pissed him off.”

“Thought I did that.”

“Yeah well you’d already paid enough for that, I reckon.”

Kay heard the infirmary door close softly. Harry shifted in his sit, toying with the end of his tie as he took in Kay’s pale face. her features were tight, no doubt controlling the pain. He’d upped the morphine as much as he dared and was frustrated he couldn’t do anything else for her. 

So he said the only thing he felt was appropriate at this moment.

“I’m sorry.”

At that, Kay opened her eyes fully, trying to focus on him. He could see her wince and then force her eyes open to stare at him. 

“Whatever do you have to be sorry for? I wasn’t careful enough, and you know that.” 

“I should have been there. We should never have split up, it was too dangerous.” 

Kay breathed out, reminding herself that this wasn’t Galahad patronizing her or taking too much upon his own shoulders, but her partner feeling guilty that he wasn’t by her side at the right moment. 

“Wasn’t your fault, Harry. It was a risky move and the com with Merlin cut off at the worst moment possible. I also should have checked that I wasn’t being followed, but I didn’t do it.”

“If it wasn’t my fault, it certainly wasn’t yours.”

“I was reckless -”

“No, you were determined. And brave.”

“And reckless.”

Kay felt more than she saw the slight smile form on his lips. 

“Alright, and maybe a little bit reckless. But that’s why you’re better at that sort of mission than me.”

“You over analyse everything.”

“I don’t” he said, on the defensive again, before understanding her meaning. “Maybe I do. I’ve just never seen it as a problem before.”

“It can be.”

Kay let the double-entendre hang in the air. She hoped he would understand what she was trying to tell him. She didn’t have the energy to try harder. 

Harry held his breath. He remembered what Merlin had told him after he’d brought Kay in: you’re mad about her, she’s mad about you, so you fight because none of you can see how much you mean to each other. 

Did he mean something to her? And what did she mean to him? 

She was willful, strong, reckless and beautiful. He was calculated, poised and calm. Or at least he liked to think he was. She probably didn’t perceive him as such. She’d called him cold on many occasions; told him he needed to understand where she came from and why she made her way through life as she did. She’d told him it was because she knew that each moment of freedom was precious. She was tired of being careful. Tired of tiptoeing around other people. 

He was the opposite. Tiptoeing was his speciality. He was careful around others, had trouble understanding them sometimes. At least outside of his work, where understanding could mean either life or death. But he felt that calm was necessary to him and caution something not to be taken lightly. Death left too many behind, and he couldn’t help but be afraid of how reckless she could be. 

During her moments of lucidity and reflection, Kay had come to grips with the differences existing between them. She knew it would take work, but what in this life didn’t? What was worth it always did. 

He meant something to her. He meant a great deal. But she didn’t know what she meant to him. 

“I know.” 

She looked at him, surprised. He leaned in closer. Hesitantly, he took one of her hands in his, holding it gently. 

“I don’t mean to sound snobbish. It’s just my way of protecting myself.” 

“Why?”

“This… this job, this life … you can lose so much if you care too much. I appear distant because I prefer to keep my feelings at bay.”

“That can’t be healthy.”

Harry chuckled, squeezing her hand.

“It’s not.” 

She focused on the feel of his fingers caressing her bruised knuckles. He palmed one bruise gently, as if to test if it hurt. When she didn’t wince, he resumed his caresses. 

“But it’s easier for you?”

Her question surprised him. He hadn’t expected her to understand so quickly. 

“Yes.”  

“But is that appearance of calm and detachment what’s easier, or is it simply not feeling? Or not allowing yourself to feel?”

He knew a lot depended on his answer. If he was honest with himself, he knew he wanted more. He wanted more out of life than his work. For nearly thirty years now he’d been so consumed by it; so afraid to care. He’d lost many friends. Lately, he’d lost Lancelot. That had been a blow. But he had never allowed himself to care more deeply for another agent. He’d never allowed himself to hope for love, not once. Until he met her. 

“I know I’m fooling myself, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

She laughed, a delightful sound after so much silence. 

“Yes, you are.” 

She was right and there was nothing he could say in his defense. 

“So where does that leave us, Harry?”

She brought his hands closer to her body, lacing her fingers with his own.

“I can’t promise to be less myself, just like you can’t simply let go of your fears. What do we do with that?”

He paused, contemplating. 

“We can try?”

She smiled in response. 

Stay tuned for part III!

Taglist: @justawriterinprogress; @tonystrksslut; @emilyyblackkk; the-sea-belt; @flybi91; @persephonehemingway​; 

[filthysweetie]

If you are still taking prompt ❤ Hartwin no.13 "are you flirting with me?", "you finally noticed?"

I am forever and always taking prompts! You actually are the first person to request one, so i guess that means technically i’m taking prompts ‘now’? Thank you so much for requesting this, it was so fun to write. 

For anyone keeping track, this is day 18 of my self challenge :)

———

Harry opened his eyes the slightest bit. After years of this sort of thing, he knows to be cautious when coming back to consciousness—never quite sure what side might have picked you up when you were out. Even if you feel asleep in your own bed. 

But Harry hadn’t fallen asleep in his own bed, he’d fallen asleep across the world in a hospital barely fit for the people in it, hooked up to IVs and floating on drug induced clouds. And then he’d woken to patients and doctors alike fighting and killing and if he’d had the energy he would have jumped into the fray too—he’d gotten so far as falling out of his bed, pulling IVs and causing alarms to go off all around before the air cleared and Harry could breath as himself again. He never wants to lose control like that again—knowing it can be taken from him is…

He’s not waking up in that ramshackle hospital, though it certainly still smells like a hospital. There’s a softer cream to the walls than Kentucky, and more than that there’s a boy—his boy—jumping up from his chair.

“Harry!” Eggsy is wound so tight but trying so hard to restrain himself, Harry can see it in the flush of his cheeks and the way he keeps unconsciously leaning closer only to yank himself back, “you’re awake…” he sighs, almost to himself before continuing, “Don’t ever do that again. I’m going to get the nurse.”

He’s gone before Harry can even wet his lips. He’s at Kingsman. He’s home. 

Eggsy comes back with Darleen, who quickly goes to work checking his vitals before asking Harry the mundane questions of his name, rank and number, who the prime minister is and what he remembers. Eggsy hovers behind her, a tangible bout of energy that Harry keeps finding his eyes drawn too. Goodness, Eggsy looks more worried than he had when he was in jail. God, doesn’t that feel like years ago. 

“…alright,” Harry gets out after the formalities and about four glasses of water, “I think that’s enough of that. Clearly I’m still breathing.”

Darleen gives a very unimpressed look, “And I would like to keep you that way.” She turns to Eggsy, pointing a finger accusingly, “Nothing strenuous.”

Eggsy gives a sheepish grin and watches her walk from the room. Harry supposes she is beautiful, but it surely the boy can do better than her. Not that there’s anything wrong with Darleen, she’s a fantastic nurse, it’s just that she has a stronger hand than what Eggsy needs and besides—she may be in a relationship. It would never work; he should just stop now before he gets hurt. (Who is he talking to again?)

Eggsy turns to him once Darleen is around the corner, taking a rushed step closer and grabbing the hand that isn’t stuck with needles, folding it into his own.

“Hey.” He grins like an unrestrained child.

“I’m glad you’re here, Eggsy.”

“Yeah?” Eggsy asks, leaning closer still, propping his elbows on the bed in atrocious manners but he’ll let it go this time. 

And then, because Harry is hopped up on pain killers and really a quite insensitive man at heart, instead of saying ‘so sorry for what I said to you in anger, that is no excuse and I apologize and respect your decision not to forgive me’ his mind takes in that Eggsy is here and that he is in Kingsman’s medical ward and says:

“I didn’t think they’d let you back in here.”

Eggsy pauses, face losing some of that shine, and Harry would berate himself if he could think straight. He leans away, just a bit and Harry frowns at the loss.

“Well, lot has changed since you’ve been gone, bruv.” Eggsy clears his throat, “why don’t you sleep some? I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Tired?” Harry gives a little laugh, “I’ve been unconscious for who…knows ho…w long I’m …not…”———Eggsy is there when he wakes up—in clothes much different than his usual. It looks almost like…

“Is that the suit I gave you?” Harry scrunches up his face, “was going to give you.” He amends. 

Eggsy almost startles, looking up from whatever was in the file he was looking at and grins at Harry, “Sure is! Works like a charm and everything,” Eggsy runs his hand down his lapel and Harry can’t be blamed for following it’s trajectory.  

“But the tie.” Harry can’t help but notice it’s different than the stripped navy one he chose. 

“Yeah,” Eggsy looks down at the time he has, a charcoal grey, that while nice, doesn’t give the look as much movement as the other would have, “it got a little roughed up.” Eggsy shrugs, looking away before turning back and giving a cheeky grin, “But you’re here, so you can always give me another one.” 

“Well I suppose I must.”

“Good.” Eggsy cheeks look pink—the hospital is obviously too hot for a suit. ———By the time he’s out of the hospital wing, he never wants to see the damn place again. Eggsy was very kind to visit as often as he did, and bring Harry trinkets and more kindly, good discussion. He’d learned soon enough that in his absence Eggsy, Roxy and Merlin had gone and saved the world and Eggsy was now a full fledged member of Kingsman, final test be damned. It did something to him, to know that Eggsy was excelling, was living up to his potential and surpassing Harry so splendidly. He still had much to learn, but as Eggsy himself said, Harry is still here and more than willing to help. 

Eggsy visited as often as he was able around missions, sometimes with Roxy or JB in toe, and Merlin came in with a huge stack of files the moment Darleen said he could to give him a debrief on what the state of the world at large was. While he had visited before, it was only under Darleen’s watchful eye as talking shop would  ‘upsetting the delicate healing process’ or some nonsense like that. 

Nevertheless. The world wasn’t teetering as much as he expected, which was pleasantly surprising. What was not so pleasantly surprising was that in his unconscious, he’d been unanimously voted in as the new Arthur by the remaining Kingsman agents. It was backstabbing of the highest order.  

“Here,” Eggsy sets a parcel down on the ornate desk that now belongs to him. Harry raises one eyebrow in a way he hopes his intimidating. Eggsy just bites his lip to stop smiling. Harry sighs and opens it—he hopes Eggsy’s not doing this out of any misplaced guilt about Harry being unable to preform standard field operations. If Harry was a little less selfish, he would ask the boy to stop. But he’s not, so here they are. 

“Is this…” Harry slowly pulls out the figurine.

“It’s Arthur’s round table!” Eggsy can’t stop himself; “There you are at the head,” he points to the little figure in the most regal clothes that doesn’t look anything like Harry (Harry also decided not to mention that there can’t be a head to a round table), “and there’s Merlin on your right, and then Lancelot over there and Perceval next to her, and then that’s me to your left, Galahads represent.” He takes a moment, “I didn’t name the others, so that’s up to you.”

“How…kind.”

Eggsy laughs, a strong laugh that fills the room and Harry can’t help but smile, “Come off it, it’s funny as hell. Your real gift’s in the bottom.” He cocks his head towards the parcel. 

There’s a receipt in the bottom—Harry takes it out and looks at Eggsy who wiggles his eyebrows. It’s a receipt for…

“No,” Harry feels his jaw drop.

“Oh yes.” Eggsy gives a giddy little laugh, and the excitement fills Harry, “It’s finally time that Mr. Pickles had a sibling.”———Ms. Pickles jumped at JB again, trying to get the poor dog to play when clearly he just wanted to nap.

“Stop letting your dog harass JB.” Eggsy says from the kitchen as though he has a sixth sense for JB. They’re at Harry’s house after a long walk with the dogs, and Eggsy is fixing them a late breakfast. 

Harry is much more than capable and said such, but Eggsy must have noticed the fine lines of tension on his face (the headaches, while infrequent, were something close to debilitating) and demanded he sit and be waited on for once (“It’s gentlemanly of me, Harry, you should be all over that.”).

“She’s just looking to play a little, no harm done.”

Eggsy snorts, “I cannot believe how poorly trained you’ve let her be, it’s shocking.”

“She is a princess and deserves to be treated as such.” Harry clicks his tongue and Ms. Pickles trots over for the chin scratches that are imminent, “Besides, she’s a gift, you know, and deserves the utmost respect.”

Eggsy laughs and turns off the kettle, “You should treat the gift-giver like a prince then; it’s only fair.”

“Well I tried to cook him breakfast but was banished from the realm.”

Eggsy snorts, coming into the dining room and setting a full plate in front of Harry, “eat your food, Harry. You can pamper me later.” He winks. 

The food is delicious, though it may have been the company. ———Harry’s been Arther for…a while now. Time moves oddly when in these types of positions. But he’s been in this seat for a while and it’s the first time he’s wondered how Chester died. 

He was told that Eggsy did it, that he came back and finished Chester off after figuring out his plan, but there’s one thing to hear it in Merlin’s crisp, factual tone and another to see it. Harry finds the video surveillance from that day and sets it up to place on his tablet, suddenly feeling the great desire for some popcorn, even though he knows the video ends in death. ———“I’d rather be with Harry, thanks” Eggsy’s voice is tinny across the playback speakers but there’s no mistaking what he said. There’s no mistaking the look on his face when he watched Chester drink the drink that would kill him—the drink meant for Eggsy. 

Harry sets down the tablet, taking a moment to put pieces together that had been payed out perfectly for months now. 

“Hey Harry,” Eggsy walks into his office, without knocking as always, at home in Harry’s space. Harry finds he quite likes that, “I brought you some of those fancy cherry cordials you’re always going on about. Figured my pleb palate won’t be able to tell the difference but worth a shot, yeah?” Eggsy looks up from his bag and makes a face, “What’s wrong? Why you look like, I don’t know, the Queen just came in and farted or something?”

“Eggsy,” Harry gets out then tries again, feeling much more nervous than a man his age has any right to, “Eggsy, are you flirting with me?”

Eggsy’s eyes lock on his for a moment before he laughs, a short burst that forces its way past his lips, almost involuntarily. Oh. Well then. That does answer that, doesn’t it? Harry look at the tablet in front of him. He’s misread situations worse than that before, surely. Just can’t think of any that went quite this bad.

“You finally noticed?” Eggsy laughs again and when the words actually register Harry’s head snaps back up. Eggsy already looking at him, smile shy around the edges but confident in that beautiful way that he always is. 

Harry gets up fast enough that his chair (his heavy oak chair) falls backwards and makes his way over to Eggsy faster than is probably warranted Eggsy’s half way through hey be careful, you’re still healing you idiot when Harry’s upon him, cupping Eggsy’s chin in both hands and pulling him in for a kiss that should have happened ages ago, but he’s so glad is happening now. 

Eggsy sighs into it, a happy little sound that gives off faint edges of surprise like he can’t believe this is happening. If anyone has room for those doubts, it should he Harry—Eggsy shouldn’t doubt for a second that he is the best thing that could ever happen to someone, the best thing that ever happened to Harry.  

His lips are soft and warm and he melts into it, bringing his arms around Harry’s neck as Harry moves one of his around Eggsy’s waist, pulling him closer and relishing every sparking point they touch. His mouth is inviting and the slide of his tongue makes Harry pull him closer, makes him bit at Eggsy’s lip and bask in the moan Eggsy lets out. 

Breaking away is hard, and Harry can’t do it, not fully—he buries his face in the crook of Eggsy’s neck, licking and kissing and nipping the exposed flesh and drinking in every sound, every shaky breath and shiver that works through Eggsy’s body. 

Harry pulls back, just enough to look Eggsy in the eye, “you beautiful, amazing boy. It’s my turn to flirt with you.”

[elletromil]

Mission Boy Toy

So in the Come Back (Home) verse, I mentioned a Ginger&Eggsy joint mission and @solrosan was so very interested in the idea that I couldn’t not write. So here’s the result.

It’s mostly crack, but I think it’s a good balance from all the angst of the ‘main’ storyline in this ‘verse XD

I hope you like it darling <3

Mission Boy Toy

"Your name?"

"Chad Prince." Eggsy's grin drips with arrogance and if she didn't know him already, Ginger would probably punch him in the face. Which means he's selling it exactly as he should.

"What's mine?"

"Margaret Blackwell. But I just call you ma'am or babe." And just like that, any smugness on his face is replaced entirely with besotted infatuation.

She probably shouldn't find it as cute as she does, but she won't be losing sleep over it either.

"And how did we meet?"

"Spring break. You drank my mates under the table," there he looks at her with the perfect mix of respect and adoration before continuing, "and then you decided to keep me around since I was the last one standing."

"Hmhm. I need someone who can keep up with me. What do I do for a living?"

"Fuck if I know. Something about stars. Like space and shite."

Ginger snorts at the answer. Of course Eggsy knows precisely what kind of credentials she has for her cover, but Chad sure wouldn't.

"And what do you do for a living?"

"What you ask me to do. So mostly I follow you around and show you a good time." Eggsy waggles his eyebrows in a way that can only mean one thing. "And since it's been a year already, I am obviously very good at it."

"At least you like to think so." She smirks and doesn't let Eggsy's pout make her feel bad. "You're… adequate. I mostly do not have the time to train someone new."

"Oy! And here I was thinking about proposing! You wound me babe. Profoundly." And that's more Eggsy's teasing than anything Chad would say but it's still enough in character that she doesn't chide him for it. Anyway, since they are still in the plane at the moment, there's no harm done.

She pats him gently on the head, not quite as condescending as she had wished it to be. Eggsy definitely needs to grill her more about their cover story if she wants to get in the proper mindspace.

"Don't take it that way Chad. You know I love you. Now get me a drink from the mini bar and it's your turn to ask me the questions."

"Yes ma'am!"

*

It’s the second day on their joint mission and Ginger wonders if she can find a way to justify bringing Eggsy with her everywhere she goes from now on. Some of it is because he is very competent. Even as he plays the dumb boy toy, he’s still managed to gather some very useful information since people seem to let their guard down around him.

But mostly it’s because she kind of enjoys having him following her around like an overgrown puppy, looking as if she’s his own personal goddess made flesh. A girl can get used to that very quickly.

And of course Eggsy is overplaying it by a lot, but the respect and admiration he holds for her is in no way faked.

Surely she can convince Merlin to transfer Eggsy to Statesman. Kingsman is more or less back on their feet after all. And if he can't actually spare an agent, well…

They can always exchange him for Tequila.

That would be a fair trade, right?

*

Ginger slides out of their mark’s private rooms with a flash drive that will hopefully give them all the information they were looking for. She quickly makes her way to where Eggsy has been playing lookout, more than ready to lay low in their own rooms as they plan for their next step.

It’s a testament to how good they work together that they don’t consult each other over what to do when they both hear footsteps coming their way. The guard isn’t even in view that Eggsy is already shirtless, with his back pushed against the wall by Ginger, his fingers working at the buttons of her blouse. Ginger’s own hands are down his pants, shamelessly grabbing at his ass. Anyway, judging by he’s going, she’ll probably have one hell of a hickey on her neck by the time they’re interrupted, so Eggsy’s got no place to complain.

Someone clears their throat pointedly behind them, which doesn’t really slow them down, though Ginger does make an inquiring sound in the back of her throat.

There’s a beat and then when it becomes clear they’re obviously not stopping anything soon, the guard sighs heavily.

“You need to move this somewhere else. You can’t be here. It’s a private area.”

Eggsy finally lets go of the skin he’s been nibbling on and Ginger doesn’t need to look to know he’s pouting. “Come on bruv be a good mate and give us fifteen minutes.”

Whatever the guard starts to say is interrupted when Ginger pushes away from Eggsy abruptly and tsks disapprovingly. “Chad. You might be satisfied under fifteen minutes, but you know I won’t.”

He makes to grab at her but she moves away too fast, still glaring.

She doesn’t bother to try and cover herself even if her blouse is now open all of the way and nearly rolls her eyes when she notices how the guard’s eyes are taking in her lacy bra and lingering there. She knows she’s in great shape and all, but clearly the guy’s an amateur to let himself be distracted so easily.

“Come on Chad, we’re going back to our rooms.” Eggsy snaps to attention and she lets him step in front of her, noting with some disappointment that the guard doesn’t seem to care at all about his chest. “And put your shirt back on.” She slaps her ass partly for good measure, partly because it is right there and she knows Eggsy won’t mind.

“Yes ma’am.”

When they walk past the guard, she winks at him, smirking when he does a very poor job at hiding how envious he is of Eggsy.

*

Even if Ginger is not being followed, she’s running to her meeting point with Eggsy since there is no need for subtlety now that the building is in flame and the proper authorities are now in possession of all the proof needed to make the necessary arrest.

It turns out hurrying was a very good choice because as soon as she spots Eggsy she also see one of their mark’s second in command running to him from the other direction, gun in hand.

“Galahad! Duck!” She yells before she can really think it through and shoots at the other man in the head. Thankfully, Eggsy didn’t hesitate when he heard her order or else he would have been caught in friendly fire.

When she gives him a hand to help him back to his feet, she sees the admiring look he’s giving her and really, she’ll need to find a way to bribe Merlin into letting her take him home.

*

“There you go Chad. I think you earned it.”

Eggsy snorts, but accepts the tumbler of alcohol graciously before scooting over so that Ginger can sits beside him.

Even in the spacious seats of the Statesman private jet, it’s a bit of a tight fit, but it’s nice to be close to someone else because they chose to rather than for the sake of a mission.

“You did most of the hard work Ginger. I mean, Whiskey. Shite. I don’t think I’m ever getting used to it, sorry.” He grimaces sheepishly, but it’s not like she doesn’t understand.

She never really thinks of herself as Whiskey after all and even a year later most of Statesman still calls her Ginger. To the point as she’s been considering asking Champ to just make Ginger an active field agent position instead.

But there’s no fun in telling Eggsy that.

“You could always keep on calling ma’am.”

Eggsy doesn’t choke on his sip at that, but it’s a near thing.

The best part though is that, once he’s got his breathing under control again, he does seem like he’s seriously considering doing it.

[ballerinabeauty7]

The Beginning

5/22/2020

So im starting a new blog since I forgot the pass to my old one. For those of you who are new heres a back story on me: I started dancing when I was 7. My mom was a professional ballet dancer, she tried to keep it from me but once I saw Barbie in The Pink Shoes,,,, chile I knew I wanted to do ballet forever. I aint even know that my mom danced with the New Rork City Ballet until I asked her when I was 15. She doesn't like talking about it. Anyways, Im 20 now and as you can assume that if im still doing it i love it. I go to UCI right now, but I haven't been happy here since I stepped foot on campus freshman year. The school is great and all but something here doesn't sit right with me. Maybe it's because the dance program is too modern? Idk. (actually, thats def why LOL). In January I decided to audition for the University of Indiana's dance department and I GOT IN! It was kinda awk though bc i had Braden drive me to the audition and we know how that ended,,, So it looks like i’ll be finishing my junior and senior year there. I’ll probs have to stay a 5th year but oh well. My mom doesnt want me to leave Cali, but theres really nothing here for me. When it comes to ballet opportunities, cali is lacking severely. If you read my old blog I know what you're thinking. “BaLLet PUt yOU iN tHE wOrsT dEpreSSion oF youR enTirE LiFe” Ballet and I have a love and hate relationship. Sometimes it puts me on top of the world where I feel invincible, and other times I feel completely worthless and wanna KMS kgfdfghjkjhgf CHILE why am I crying literally writing this. It's just bringing back so many bad mems. I hope you enjoy my blog bruv

xx

BallerinaBeauty7

[1112lw]

Every question!!

SDFFSDFG DAM OK SIS

LONG POST AHEAD IF U LITERALLY WANNA KNOW ME PERSONALLY JUST READ THIS LMFAO

1: Name: Arche/Jupiter, my close friends know my real name so!

2: Age: High school has just been done so try to guess

3: Fears: Heights, oral presentations, the dark

4: 3 things I love: Drawing, men- concept art n stuff like that

5: 4 turns on: Oh here we go- uhh thighs, messy hair? when they give u The Look or when they. say things i will not talk about here HHGBDF n uhhh Arms 👀👀

6: 4 turns off: weird macho attitude, overly confident bullshit, being selfish and fuckboys in general

7: My best friend: not sure what this means but my bff is named Daphnée n i love her and ive known her my whole life so 

8: Sexual orientation: homosexuale

9: My best first date: :))))))) as if

10: How tall am I: sigh. I’m 5″4

11: What do I miss: sometimes i miss the feeling loved ig

12: What time were I born: 12:19

13: Favourite color: pink!

14: Do I have a crush

15: Favourite quote: My senior quote!! “if what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, I’m telling you I’m immortal”

16: Favourite place: well? my room ig? I like my yard too

17: Favourite food: ugh ramen,,,korean dishes are TASTE as fuck but i also like classic ass spaghetti so like lol

18: Do I use sarcasm: does it look like i dont

19: What am I listening to right now: dr.phil LMFAO

20: First thing I notice in new person: Hair and eyes!! also how they laugh

21: Shoe size: Like. a 7-8 in women’s 6 in men’s 

22: Eye color: Hazel/Golden yes bitch let me be special

23: Hair color: it’s either dark brown or golden brown idk

24: Favourite style of clothing: bruv its either kpoppie fuckboy or uwu skirts pastels

25: Ever done a prank call?: no i have anxiety

26: Meaning behind my URL:

27: Favourite movie: rise of the guardians and HTTYD

28: Favourite song: Comeback Home (BTS cover)

29: Favourite band: looks in the camera i dont know nan molla huh

30: How I feel right now: I’m fine im hungry

31: Someone I love: shoutout to my babeys in my server ily

32: My current relationship status: Single(tm)

33: My relationship with my parents: theyre fine ig just a bit tired

34: Favourite holiday:

35: Tattoos and piercing I have: Ear piercings? that’s it

36: Tattoos and piercings I want:

37: The reason I joined Tumblr:

38: Do I and my last ex hate each other? I sure hope not?

39: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? A bit ig?

40: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted? Literally no

41: When did I last hold hands? Like last Friday

42: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? 20 minutes

43: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days? no i havent shaved in like months

44: Where am I right now? in my room, in quebec, canada

45: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? bitch i sure hope my friends would

46: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? fuck my ears 

47: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? yeah

48: Am I excited for anything? yeah? yeah

49: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? ig? always

50: How often do I wear a fake smile? just at work tbh

51: When was the last time I hugged someone? not long ago i cant tell but my friends r cuddle monsters so 

52: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? i havent kissed anyone so 

53: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? lemme think uhhh no not rlly im not dumb 

54: What is something I disliked about today? i woke up n i thought i had school lol

55: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? oh john cock i want to be ur best friend

56: What do I think about most? i daydream 24/7

57: What’s my strangest talent? uhhh i can put my thumb behind my hand?

58: Do I have any strange phobias? trypophobia, if thats “weird”

59: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? depends on what the video is, mostly behind

60: What was the last lie I told? idk answering to my deadname

61: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? online

62: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? I slightly believe in ghosts? also aliens GOTTA exist so 

63: Do I believe in magic? i think!

64: Do I believe in luck? yeah

65: What’s the weather like right now? very pretty i filmed a video outside!!

66: What was the last book I’ve read? L’Étranger d’Albert Camus in french class

67: Do I like the smell of gasoline? yes my dad’s a mechanic

68: Do I have any nicknames? a lot a lot

69: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had? bitch @ my birth #neverforget 

70: Do I spend money or save it? i have 40$ in my name right now

71: Can I touch my nose with a tounge? no

72: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? yes highlighter

73: Favourite animal? cats or otters

74: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? FBISDFD NO WE DONT TALK ABOUT IT

75: What do I think is Satan’s last name idk he can have any last name he wants!!!

76: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? everytime i start hearing “waiting for you anpanman” or “i just wanna go home” 👀👀

77: How can you win my heart? aaahh. be a twink. b fashionable. b funny. cheesy. pls romance me like a npc in the sims 2

78: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? s(he) died smh

79: What is my favorite word? cunt is SUCH a satisfying word

80: My top 5 blogs on tumblr? oh great uh honestly cant be fucked 

81: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? please have brain. PLEASE

82: Do I have any relatives in jail? i sure hope the fuck not?

83: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? either invisibility or mind reading

84: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? ahaaa “what are your intrusive thoughts”

85: What is my current desktop picture? my lesbian sims getting married LMFAO

86: Had sex? no

87: Bought condoms? no

88: Gotten pregnant? NO

89: Failed a class? i think yeah maths last year

90: Kissed a boy? :(((

91: Kissed a girl? no

92: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? no

93: Had job? I have a job rn so 

94: Left the house without my wallet? yeah when i go to school

95: Bullied someone on the internet? define bullying?

96: Had sex in public? virgin squad

97: Played on a sports team? yeah

98: Smoked weed? no ew

99: Did drugs? no ew

100: Smoked cigarettes? NO EW

101: Drank alcohol? yep 

102: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? no i’d die

103: Been overweight? i’m twig

104: Been underweight? i think i was underweight when i was young? i was very Small

105: Been to a wedding? yes very long boring

106: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? bruh. everyday

107: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? probably?

108: Been outside my home country? ONCE

109: Gotten my heart broken? TWICE !

110: Been to a professional sports game? yesss canadians game!!

111: Broken a bone? no

112: Cut myself? not technically 

113: Been to prom? SOON SOON SOON SOSOSNSBFSHDD

114: Been in airplane? once

115: Fly by helicopter? i am not rich bitch

116: What concerts have I been to? noneeee- WAIT NO MARIE MAI

117: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? not sex but for the purpose of pretending i have a penis yes plenty

118: Learned another language? yeah!! i learned english, i almost learned spanish and i’m trynna learn korean now

119: Wore make up? i try!! but i’m not super good

120: Lost my virginity before I was 18? not 18 yet but it’s goin that way

121: Had oral sex? as if 

122: Dyed my hair? i wishhh

123: Voted in a presidential election? I WISH THE ELECTIONS R ONE MONTH B4 MY BIRTHDAY 

124: Rode in an ambulance? nope

125: Had a surgery? yes at a week old 

126: Met someone famous? i think yes but i was super small

127: Stalked someone on a social network? define stalked?

128: Peed outside? yes

129: Been fishing? YES

130: Helped with charity? i think? we do volunteering so 

131: Been rejected by a crush? not directly

132: Broken a mirror? no 

133: What do I want for birthday? boyf......boy..boyff

134: How many kids do I want and what will be their names? oh man uhh maybe 2-3, i dont know their names yet honestly

135: Was I named after anyone? MY DAD NAMED ME AFTER A FUCKIN CLIENT HE MET. as for my actual name now I named myself after my fav video game character. lit

136: Do I like my handwriting? yeah!!

137: What was my favourite toy as a child? bitch hot wheels

138: Favourite Tv Show? hells kitchen,,,,judge judy,,,anythin like that

139: Where do I want to live when older? honestly i wish i could just live in japan or tokyo, or new york? but i will most likely end up in montreal 

140: Play any musical instrument? i used to play the clarinet last year!!

141: One of my scars, how did I get it? the one on my knee, i scratched my desk with my knee 

142: Favourite pizza toping? my dad makes AMAZING sea food pizzas,,,

143: Am I afraid of the dark? a lot

144: Am I afraid of heights? A LOT

145: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad? idk prolly? im a bit of a goody two shoes or however u spell it

146: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end: dont we all

147: What I’m really bad at: organizing my anxiety n shit i get overwhelmed

148: What my greatest achievments are: finishing high school 

149: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me: honestly has to be that time someone dug up my vent post about being dysphoric to try to say i hated myself with some dumbass DySphorIa Is SelF HaTRed argument

150: What I’d do if I won in a lottery: pay my parents’ debt off, buy 284223$ of BT21 merch, pay my whole college/uni and transition

151: What do I like about myself: idk i like how i literally do not give a fuck anymore and ive learned to love myself instead of trynna care

152: My closest Tumblr friend: @peptobismol-official​ @ace-landofthesun​ @dorkalisious​ and ana but idk her @ anymore :((( ana pls

153: Something I fantasise about: we dont talk about that

154: Any thoughts on the paranormal?: lit. please stop crawling in my ceiling !

ok now that u know my whole biography. go doxx me ig. bye bye

[captainmarvels]

safe haven

Summary: Eggsy’s safe haven is in the last place he would’ve thought to look.

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This is somewhat rushed, but I just had to get this out, especially after seeing K:TGC. Hopefully you all enjoy this! | masterlist

Love is a vast universe. One so complex and deep, there exists not a single expert of the entity.

How it came to be. If it will survive for all eternity.

Love is a cosmos; one where happiness and serenity exist, right alongside sadness and fear.

Love is not perfect. If it were, people would not fear it. Humanity would run into its open arms, embracing it in their hearts; their souls.

Love is a backstabber. It lies, convincing you that happiness and peace can exist untainted by the terrors of doubt and pain. It tricks you into thinking you will never again know darkness in your heart.

You take love’s word for it; a promise of eternal bliss, in exchange for your heart. Your vulnerability.

When you least expect it, love will take a knife to your heart, a sly cut barely grazing the surface. You won’t know what’s happened, since the pain is minimal. But that’s what love wants. A slow, agonizing pain that grows with every drop of love that escapes your enamoured heart.

Love is pain that not many experience. It’s pain that many wish to never bear witness to. Why?

Love raises you high above the clouds, leaving you to soar in a world of unknown. When you fall, will love be there to catch you?

When you fall in love, it escapes you. It’s fleeting; never within your grasp. For you, love is Eggsy; not always quite there.

You didn’t want to have this argument. Eggsy certainly didn’t. But it had to happen. For better or for worse.

“How long do you think you’ll be?” You ask, your voice quiet as you dry your hands off with a nearby towel.

“Three weeks, tops. I’m sorry, love. You know I wouldn’t do this if there was any other way.” Eggsy’s voice is anything but reassuring as you grip the countertop, the edge digging into the palms of your hands.

“I know you hate it when I leave. But I swear, I’ll make it up to you when I come back. Just wait ‘til I come home, love.”

“You’re already home, Eggsy. Just stay.” You refuse to turn, even when his arms find their way around your waist, gently pulling you against his chest.

His aftershave engulfs your senses, overwhelming every nerve in your body. He was your home, but you weren’t too sure you were his.

“You know I want to, babe. Don’t do this to me.” His voice is soft in your ear, his lips softly brushing against your skin.

“Don’t do what, Eggsy? Ask you to show some commitment to me?” You don’t know where the words came from, but the truth rang out in the silence, clear as day. He’s pulled away from you now, his back leaning against the kitchen island as you stay put, facing the sink.

“I love you, Y/N. Is that not enough commitment to you? We’re together.”

“Yeah. Dating for three years. Just fucking great, Eggsy.” You head out of the kitchen, rushing to your shared bedroom. Eggsy’s quick to follow, his foot stopping the door from shutting in his face.

“What more do you need, Y/N? Is this not enough for you?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he makes his way into the room. His words seem to just roll of his tongue without a care in the world. Unfortunately for you, they’ve hit your heart like a thousand bullets.

“Get the fuck out, Unwin. Spend the night at the tailors, for fucks sake.” You say, throwing his suit jacket at him as you storm off into the bathroom. You manage to beat him, locking the door just as he reaches for the doorknob.

You hear a dull thud against the wall, and you know he’s slammed his fist. One hell of a way to send him off.

You slide down against the wall, silent tears rolling down your cheeks. Your chest is tightening with every breath you take, but you don’t know what to do. When did love ever feel like this?

Eggsy’s clearly got something on his mind. It’s the thought of you, in his arms, a smile flashing up at him as he presses his forehead against yours, his lips brushing against your own.

It’s the image of you, cuddling with JB on your shared bed, Eggsy’s pillow in your grasp.

His heart feels like it’s aflame; every thought of you igniting another spark, the fire growing ever more fervent in his chest.

He can’t close his eyes, because your eyes, your smile, your everything is all he can see in front of him. When did he get himself so lost in you?

“You alright, Eggsy?” Harry’s voice sounds from behind the bar, the air of concern sitting around his words. Eggsy sighs, the weight on his chest growing heavier with every passing thought of you.

“I think I’ve gone and fucked it all up, Harry. Big time.” He leans against the bar, resting his head against the cool wood. He feels a hand on his shoulder, and reluctantly looks up to meet Harry’s gaze.

“Humble heart, humble mind. That’s not who you are, Eggsy. That’s who she is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes as you die?” Eggsy nods, his head tilting in confusion.

“I’ve never had anyone. I’ve never experienced companionship; never been in love. When I die, all I’ll see is nothing.” Harry finishes the martinis he was making, placing one in front of Eggsy. He glances between the drink and his mentor, more confused than ever.

“When you die, who do you think will be the first to flash before your eyes?”

“Be mine.” Eggsy’s got cuts littering his chest, his knuckles bruised and bloodier than ever. You’re sitting on his lap, massive strips of gauze in your hand. His words are echoing in your ears, and all he can do is bite back his tongue as he searches your eyes for something. Anything.

“You mean it, Eggy?” He smiles, the nickname warming his heart. He nods, his eyes never looking away from yours.

“Be mine. And only mine. Please.” Your hands find themselves in his hair, your forehead pressed against his. Your eyes dart between his lips and his gaze, and he can’t help the laugh that escapes him as he darts his tongue out at your lips. You giggle, smiling as he finally kisses you.

At long last.

“The look in your eyes answers that question, Eggsy. You know what you have to do.”

The mission wrapped sooner than planned, but Eggsy decided it was better you didn’t know. He got a new suit fitted, while Merlin went and picked up your favorite flowers. Roxy made sure Eggsy wouldn’t fuck up his speech - “If you say that, I hope she kicks you in the dick, you idiot.” - all while you sat at home, JB curled up on your chest.

You hadn’t been able to sleep much since Eggsy left, but you never did when he was gone.

You spent most of your time sifting through memories - old photos from when you first met, to last year’s Christmas card, starring the only dog who would let you dress him up.

Eggsy was the best thing to ever happen to you, and you couldn’t stand to be apart from him any longer. You reached for your phone, pulling up his number when you heard the lock click. JB perked up, jumping off the bed and scrambling out of the room. You sighed, following the pug out into the once-empty living room. You stopped breathing the moment you stepped out of the room.

Flowers adorned every open space throughout the room, red hearts sitting in every bouquet. You followed JB, picking up every card along the way. Eggsy’s handwriting was scrawled on each one, a different thing written across the heart.

Your smile.

Your laugh.

Your heart.

My home.

Mine.

You read that last card, a tear slipping down your cheek as you smiled at the lone word.

“If you start crying now, I’m going to be one helluva mess, love. Gotta give me a chance here, darling.” His voice comes from the kitchen, and you can’t stop yourself from running into his arms. Running home.

He hugs you tight against his chest, his lips pressing chaste kisses atop your head, muffled confessions of love tumbling out, as if he was running out of time. You pull away, dropping the hearts on the counter as you cup his face in your hands. His emerald eyes are shining bright with bliss, and you can’t stop staring.

“Hey bug. Want to know why I love you?” He whispers, his hands resting on your waist.

“I think the cards told me, Eggy.”

“Well, I think you missed one.” He grins.

“Where is it?” He takes one of your hands from his face, resting it right above his heart. You tear your eyes away from him, confused.

“Your heart?”

“I love you because you are my heart, Y/N. You have been since the moment I first saw you. You always will be, if you’ll have me. Be mine, forever.” You gasp, your gaze meeting his as you take in his words.

“Is that a proposal, Eggy?” He bites his lip, shrugging his shoulders as you stare at him in disbelief.

“A shit one, I know. But I swear, I’ll do better. For you.”

“I love you, idiot. This is better than anything I could’ve hoped for.”

“So is that a yes, love?” You roll your eyes, stroking your thumb across his lips as he watched you.

“I’ll take it back if you don’t kiss me right now, bruv.” You cooed, giggling as he picked you up, setting you on the counter. His lips find yours in seconds, his love dripping from them as he holds you close. Once you finally pull away, he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Never let me go.” Your words draw him out, his lips brushing along the skin of your jaw. As he finds his way to your lips, he meets your gaze.

“On my life, darling. Never.”

Sometimes, love finds its way home. Eggsy was finally home.

tags: @retroasgardian, @roamingharlem, @thesaraaaaahpfan, @avengershavethetardis, @buenostardissherlock, @storyofavengers, @imsecretlyromanburki, @cassandras-musings, @nottheopera, @coltcas, @thefridgeismybestie, @callamint, @kaaatniss, @seb-ass-tian-stan-ws, @bootypoppinbarnes, @hollycornish, @h4izel, @charliexowrite, @stevnsbucks, @thewinterswimmer, @damnlokifangirl, @barnesvogue, @sebastian-stans-thighs, @capsheadquaters, @jobean12-blog, @theassetseyeliner, @buckys-fossil @worldsroses@yikesbuckster @mjuikoli @rotisserierogers @buckyappreciationsociety @supernaturaldean67@milychetto @shhhs3cret @avengedqueen26, @this-is-angela-blog, @ohwhatamessiam, @captain-amelia-bradley, @tasting-writers-block @raindancer2004@redgillan @minervaem @buckyywiththegoodhair @barnres @everyrosehasitsthornton @justasunflower@aelin-blackstairs @pillarsofelmundo @lovelynemesis @themanwithovtfear @buchananbarnestrash @a-splash-of-stucky @avengersandlovers

[morrisondauthor]

“Rules of the Game” – Part 4

           After work, I went straight home and took a shower. I then put on some decent clothes and made sure I looked great before heading back out. I drove to a place where I always purchased my wine and bought a few bottles for my friend Cortez’s dinner party. He was having the party to impress his new boss and some of his colleagues from the marketing firm he worked at. When I arrived there, I knew both he and our friend Kody would notice I’d gotten some dick the night before. I just knew it.

           “You let him fuck, didn’t you?” Kody asked me as he helped me carry the bottles of wine into the house.

           “No,” I lied. “We just spent the night together.”

           “Yeah right, more like you spent the night fucking!”

           “You’re glowing, Julian,” Cortez told me. “You might as well spill the beans. Kody already told me the guy’s name. It’s Kenton, right?”

           “That’s right,” Kody confirmed with a smirk. “So tell us J, does Kenton have one of those fat British uncut dicks or what?”

           “I can’t stand y’all,” I said with a laugh. “Yes, we got intimate last night. And his dick is slightly above average in length but it’s pretty thick and yeah, he’s uncircumcised.”

           “I knew it!” Kody shouted. “Them British brothas always have fat uncut dicks. Uncut dick be so damn good, too. There’s nothing sexier than some pretty foreskin.”

           “I prefer circumcised men,” Cortez said as he checked on his Cornish hens baking in the oven. “Some dudes do not know how to properly clean their uncircumcised dicks.”

           “Ooh, Ken passes in that department,” I told them. “That dick was clean enough to eat off of. His ass, too.”

           Kody’s eyes opened wide and he asked, “He likes to get rimmed?”

           “He told me he likes it every now and then. His dick got so hard while I was rimming him, too. He told me to get nasty while I was licking on it.”

           “Marry him,” Cortez told me. “Do you know how hard it is to find an open-minded top who you could one day talk into becoming vers with you? You better hang on to him, Julian.”

           “I’m trying to. I don’t want you nosy bitches to ruin it for me. That means no giving him a hard time. I know we give each other’s partners a hard time to test them sometimes, but I really need y’all to be chill with him. He’s not from here so you might scare him off.”

           “We’ll be on our best behavior,” said Kody. He then looked at Cortez and they burst out in laughter together.

           “I’m serious, y’all. I ended my celibacy with him because I truly believe he’s the one. I know that sounds crazy because I’ve only known him for a few days but…”

           “No, I believe you,” Cortez said while looking into my eyes. “Julian, we all know what it’s like wanting something serious but constantly hitting a brick wall with these promiscuous ass niggas in the gay community. If you truly believe you’ve found the right guy then we’re gonna have your back.”

           “That’s right,” Kody added. “We’re happy for you and we hope it works out.”

           I smiled and told them, “Thanks, guys. Now, let’s get to it. The quicker I help y’all the quicker I can go pick up Ken from his hotel.”

           “Pick up?” Kody asked. “Bitch, you couldn’t find you a man with a car?”

           ���He’s visiting here from London, Kody. Remember?”

           He laughed and said, “Oh, yeah.”

           We fixed up Cortez’s place and helped him prepare all of the food. Once most of the important work was done, I headed out to go get Kenton. I admit, I was still very nervous about him meeting my friends. I felt like it was too soon for him to be around them. We hadn’t properly defined what we were yet. He made that joke about being my boyfriend that morning, but I wasn’t sure how serious he was about it. Could I call him my boyfriend that quickly and after just one night of sex?

                                               Me (Julian Baxter)

           “Are you nervous?” I asked him as we walked up the brightly lit walkway that led to Cortez’s front door.

           “Not really,” he replied. “Should I be?”

           “No. Well…no.” I stopped walking and so did he.

           “Okay, you’re definitely nervous.” He took my hand in his and told me, “Just relax, baby. It’s a dinner party. All we have to do is talk to a few people, eat some food, drink some alcohol and then go back to your place and get naked.”

           I laughed and playfully hit him before relaxing and saying, “That somehow made me feel less nervous. Thank you.”

           “That’s what I’m here for, love.” He kissed my lips and then resumed walking alongside me up to the front door.

           The moment we entered the house, I became somewhat nervous again. There were only about eleven people there including Kody and Cortez but I was still nervous. Kody spotted us immediately and hurried over. He smiled and said, “Aw, look at you two holding hands. Cute.”

           “Kody Ashford,” I said, “this is Kenton Clarke. Kenton, this is my friend Kody.”

           “Nice to meet you,” Kenton said to him while shaking his hand.

           “Ditto,” Kody replied with a fake British accent.

           “Okay, now I understand why you two are friends,” Kenton said with a laugh. “Baby, you do that same fake accent to mock me all the time, yeah?”

           “Yeah, I do.”

           “There you are,” Cortez said as he approached us. “I was wondering when you’d get here with…” He looked at Kenton and said, “Oh my. Damn Julian, you didn’t say your new man was so handsome.”

           Kenton smiled and said, “Thank you. I’m Kenton.”

           “And I’m Cortez Johnson. Nice to meet you. Would you happen to have an identical twin brother?”

                                                Kenton Clarke

           “No, but I do have a brother who is a year older than me. But unless you have double-D breasts and a vagina, he’s not gonna be interested, bruv.”

           “Too bad you’re not post-op trans,” Kody joked, causing Cortez to nudge him in the side.

           “So, what do you all do?” Kenton asked them. “Because this house is nice.”

           “I’m the assistant manager of the mortgage department at Bank of America downtown,” Cortez told him.

           “And I help run my mother’s boutiques,” Kody told him. “She has two in downtown Miami and one out in Miami Beach.”

           “You’re all so successful. If I weren’t playing football I’d probably be living at home with my mum and dad.”

           “Do you make a lot playing soccer?” Cortez asked.

           “Cortez,” I snapped, “don’t ask him something that personal.”

           “It’s fine, baby,” Kenton told me. He then looked at Cortez and answered, “I don’t make as much as some of the premier league players make and I’ll be taking a bit of a pay cut if I decide to play for an American league. They’re offering a three hundred and fifty thousand dollar signing bonus which is much lower than the British pounds I get for signing with an English league.”

           My knees nearly gave in when I heard him say that. Yes, it was lower than what NFL and NBA players made but $350,000 is still a lot of money compared to what I made a year. Pretending as if hearing it didn’t faze me, I giggled and joked, “Hopefully I’m worth the pay cut.”

           He smiled and replied, “I’ll take a job paying two dollars an hour if it meant I could see you when I want to see you.”

           “Aw,” Kody said.

           The more we talked and made our way around talking to Cortez’s colleagues, the less nervous I became. The food was delicious, everyone had a great time, and I found myself even more attracted to Kenton’s personality. He really knew how to fit in with his surroundings no matter where he was. By the time the dinner party was over, I was ready to take him back to my house and suck and ride his dick until he had at least three orgasms.

           “Thanks for the food and fun,” I said to Cortez. “We really had a great time.”

           “Yeah,” Kenton agreed. “I’m glad I tagged along for this.”

           “Well, you’re welcome any time,” Cortez said to him. He then looked at me and said, “And I will talk to you later.”

           “Okay.” I hugged him and told him, “Goodnight. And tell Kody I said goodnight. He’s in there too busy flirting with your coworker to come out here and say bye to us.”

           “I’ll tell him. Goodnight, guys.”

           “Goodnight,” Kenton said back. He then grabbed my hand and walked with me to my car. As we climbed in, he asked me, “Are we going back to your place?”

           “You bet. I need a little time before I can clean myself out, but I’m definitely down for some naughty fun tonight.”

           “I hope most nights with you will be like this when I move here.”

           “I don’t know. I mean…” I caught on to what he said and the biggest smile formed on my face. “Are you serious right now?”

           “I’d already made my mind up before the dinner party but I stuck with it when I saw how happy you were to hold my hand in front of your friends. Julian, I’m going to sign with the Miami team. I wanna see where this goes.”

           “Aw, baby.” I threw my arms around him and hugged him. I then quickly pulled back and asked, “You’re not just doing this because of the sex, are you?”

           “No. The sex is amazing, but it’s not the main reason why I’m making the decision to move here. I feel like I’m not going to be able to find someone like you back in London. Hell, I’ve never met anyone like you anywhere I’ve been. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I’m gonna do the right thing and take it. And I’m gonna do right by you, love. So, are we boyfriends or do I have to actually propose to your or something? Because I’ll do it if you need more of a commitment.”

           I laughed and told him, “You’re crazy.”

           “I sure am. I’m crazy for you.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. “Now, let’s go back to your place and solidify this thing.”

           I laughed again as I started my car and pulled away from Cortez’s house. We went back to my place and talked and had sex and talked some more until late at night. For the first time in a long time, I went to sleep with so much hope. I wasn’t sure what was ahead of me but I knew as long as I hope in the foundation I was starting with Kenton, I’d be alright. We’d be alright. As for my rules, I was going to keep them locked away in the back of my mind. Now I needed to unlock the rules to keeping a good boyfriend.

[Disclaimer]: Pictures used do not reflect the sexuality or personality of people in the pictures. They only serve as visual examples of the characters.

© D.A. Morrison 2017

[agent-absinthe]

The End

This is for the ever lovely and talented @reformedkingsmanagent because I wanted to try my hand at a Charlie that I rarely see in fics.  

I want to advise everyone reading that this has heavy, heavy abuse and trauma.  If you are triggered by any kind of relationship abuse or violence please do not read.  

As always, Stay safe!  You control what you see!  And I hope you enjoy!  

(Recommended song for this is The End by Blue October.)

Charlie was in the middle of a Kingsman meeting, scrolling through social media on his glasses, like Eggsy was doing beside him, ignoring whatever Merlin was saying about drug lords.  Even Roxy across from him gave a muffled yawn and her head dipped forward before snapping back up, she had just come back from a mission to Tokyo and had yet to sleep.  It felt like just another day until a picture on Instagram flooded his system with rage.

tara_tart had just posted with the caption “The new bistro downtown is great!  Everyone go check it out!” which would have been innocent enough if it hadn’t been for the fact that she was kissing someone’s cheek and that same someone had commented on the post with “Love you babe <3”

With a few flicks and blinks of his eyes Charlie had everything about Tara’s new boyfriend laid out in front of him.  Accountant, recently graduated at the top of his class, a fitness nut with a great body, Charlie could still kill him.  That break up had nearly killed him.  They went to the same school, she was what he called a pity admission since she came from a lower middle class family.  Wasn’t much of his type at first either, a bit of a bigger girl with a soft voice she used to argue with him in Philosophy, but when he smiled at her he could tell she adored him.

It lasted for two years.  Two wonderful years.  He was going to propose, they would start a family.  Until she broke it off due to his “controlling, hyper obsessive nature” what did that even mean?

~

A sheen of sweat reflected off of Charlie’s face as he picked the lock to Tara’s apartment, using his watch to silence the security system that began beeping when he shoved it open.  Her familiar rose and peony perfume that he had bought her in Paris overwhelmed him, he almost lost himself right there in the hallway, a sob raking up his throat.  He stifled it and pushed forward into the dark apartment, noting all of her usual habits: the dishes still lying in the sink, her shoes all over the place, books piled up next to the tv.  His hands were shaking as he pushed open the bedroom door and breathed deeply trying to soak as much of her up in this small time frame as possible.

“Still so messy, love.”  He said aloud to no one but himself and the pretty cat that slunk out from under the blankets.

Charlie bent down to give it a scratch on the chin and the cat purred, looping around his legs when he straightened to explore the bedroom.  His large hands carded through her closet, pulling out a few dresses he didn’t recognize to admire before putting them back, he reached into the very back and found a scrapbook of her childhood and college memories.  He smiled, eager to see what pictures of them she had kept over the years…but as he flipped through it he realized there were no pictures of him in here at all. None.  Breathing suddenly became difficult and he tossed the book onto the floor, shoving his hand even further back into the closet and looking for a photo album- something, anything.  She would not have thrown him out of her life completely, she loved him, she’d always love him just like he loved her.

A journal was the only thing he pulled out and eagerly opened up.

My therapist tells me that anytime something reminds me of him or I relapse into some of the habits he “groomed” me to have that I needed to write it down in here and it would make me feel better… I forgot to do the dishes last night and when I saw them in the sink this morning I had a panic attack-I was tired and forgot that he isn’t controlling my life any longer.  Thought I was going to see him coming around the corner ready to break every single one and then make me clean it up like before… sheets got wrapped around my neck from all the turning, thought it was him trying to choke me again- need to schedule another appointment with Dr. Reuben… I relapsed.  Ended up on the bathroom floor at 3 a.m scrubbing it because I had a nightmare that C came home upset it was dirty, Michael had to pick me up and carry me back to bed.  Why can’t I get rid of him?... Had a panic attack at work today, a cute boy with curly hair delivered the donuts and I thought it was Charlie, got sent home, took a few days off… Michael said he loves me and I haven’t had a nightmare in weeks.  Maybe this is where I start to heal.

Charlie snapped the journal shut, his body shaking with rage before he reopened it and began tearing the pages out handful by handful, ripping them apart further once there were none left in the spine.

“No!”  He screamed, forgetting to stay quiet in case any of the neighbors were home.

“No!”

Breathing even more ragged than before, Charlie stumbled up and over to the old, shitty vanity he had begged her to get rid of but she wouldn’t because it was her grandmothers.  The mirror spotted with old make up and a crack, he stared into the mirror remembering the night she wouldn’t listen to him and he had shoved her against it to get her attention.  Tara hit her head on the corner and caused the crack, they had to go to the emergency room for stitches.  Remembering the blood slipping across her forehead and how the nurses had looked at him like he was evil, like they were fucking superior to him the cunts- the glass shattered, Charlie immediately retching his fist back as his knuckles began to bleed.  Deep breaths, deep breaths like Merlin taught you.  One.  Two. Three. Calm Down.  Breathe through the anger.  

Sweat was dripping off his nose now, his whole body shaking so bad he could hardly stand.  It wasn’t until he heard the door unlock with a click that he forced himself to get up and move to the balcony door without so much as a creak from the floor boards.  The cat followed mewing at him.

“Come here.  Come on.” He held out his hand to it and as soon as it’s wet nose touched the tip of his finger Charlie grabbed it by the scruff, tucking the cat into his coat as he slipped out.

~

“Bruv, when did ya get a cat?”  Eggsy was in some obnoxious neon blue Adidas clothes scratching the cat, who Charlie had named Pleb as the expensive leather collar with a bright gold tag read.

“Oh, it followed me home last week.”

Charlie really couldn’t be bothered right now.  He placed a Kingsman Ghosting chip in Tara’s cellphone and could now go through all of her things, the burner phone he was using acting as an exact mirror.  Right now she was messaging her god awful boyfriend about the recent break in that had happened, the conversation was boring until she finally brought him up.

No you don’t understand my therapy journal was ripped to shreds.  I think it might be my ex.

What?  The one who abused you?

Yes.  I don’t know what to do.  What if he hurt Niko?  What if hes watching me?

Call the police.  He’s breaking his restraining order right?

I cant, his family is fucking loaded the only reason I got the restraining order is because I had documentation and testimony. I don’t have shit now.

Fine, then I’ll stay with you.  I’ll be over tonight.  I’m not gonna let anything happen to you I love you.

Thanks babe I love you too.

Abused.  He actually laughed, ignoring Eggsy’s questioning look, he never abused Tara never never never.  He loved her, how could he abuse her?  That’s not how that worked, how STUPID could they both possibly be, no no it wasn’t her, she was being led astray by this asshole and that therapist probably had put all kinds of ideas in her head.  Charlie would have to make sure she went back to her old self just as soon as he was able to get her back.  Although now that this bastard was trying to play protective he would have to learn stew for a few days and watch them, figure out the routine.  Luckily, Merlin had given him a few days to heal a bullet scrap to his ribs since the manor was finally properly staffed again.

~

“Michael, honey thank you so much for staying with me.  I’ve been so fucking scared lately and I didn’t know what to do, I thought he was gonna come back and-”

“No, baby I won’t let anything happen to you I swear.  I love you, I love you so much.  Maybe uh,”  Michael smiled at her sheepishly, “maybe instead of sleeping over it could just be… sleeping?  My apartment is a little bigger, I’ve got a huge closet I barely use-”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”  Her heart felt like it was going to stop.  No, it can’t be true she was too fucked up.  Just like he had said, she was too fucked up for anyone else to want.

“Yes, baby.  Please, I know you’re scared of letting people into your space, but I wanna grow with you.  So, what do you say?”

Michael was a big guy.  6’2 and kinda beefy, a lacrosse player at university, if he wasn’t such a softie he would have made an excellent fighter.  Tara felt so protected by him and he looked at her like she was the world and not some kind of trophy or property like Charlie had. She couldn’t let the ghost of what he did to her hold her back any longer.    

“Yes.  Yes, as soon as my lease is up!”  Tara threw herself at him, pressing her lips to his fiercely.

Charlie sat in the issued vehicle with his hands knuckle white on the steering wheel as he listened in on the conversation from the frequency amplifier. No, this couldn’t happen.  It wouldn’t happen.  He reached into the glove compartment and tapped on the side twice, a Kingsman pistol with a silencer attached popped out of the bottom and he it pulled out.  Checking to make sure it was loaded and ready in case he needed to do anything tonight. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that and tonight would be just another night of scouting, sneaking in after they were asleep and just… watching.

~

Tonight was not going to be a scouting night.

The moans from Tara’s bedroom came through so clear on the radio that Charlie might as well have been in there with them.  He had helped himself to the scotch in the back of the cab and alternated between sloppy mouthfuls, the alcohol running down his chin to soak into his shirt, and contemplating just putting the pistol in his mouth instead.  His eyes were red and irritated from staring at his fucking phone for two days straight, his body screamed for hydration and food, instead he kept feeding it scotch.

“Yes, yes.  Fuck! Michael!”  Her moans blared through the speakers and Charlie could just imagine how she was bent over letting him fuck her like a common whore.

Heavy breathing took the place of the moans and soon everything dissolved into obnoxious whispers about how much they loved each other and how nice it would be when she finally moved in with him.  

“Shut up!  Shut up shut up shut up shut up!”  He screamed so loud he could feel the strain on his vocal cords, his fist slamming into the radio repeatedly until he had damaged it to white noise.

Blood began to dot the interior of the car as it dripped down his hand, at least three broken knuckles and metacarpals, but the scotch had numbed everything.  All he felt was rage.  Charlie drug a hand down his face trying to hide the drunk sobs that were bubbling past his lips and chased them back down with the last of the scotch.  He threw the empty bottle against the passenger window where it shattered, a piece of it flying out to embed into his arm.  With the pistol tucked safely into his waist band Charlie spilled out of the cab and stumbled toward the apartment building. He made a very impressive vertical jump to grip the metal rod of a sign and used his momentum to swing and grab onto the bottom of her balcony.  Despite his drunken state he could still remember everything Eggys had taught him about parkour and gymnastics.

He lifted himself up and over the ledge; muscles straining through the thin, white shirt that was stained with perspiration as more slid down his neck.  God, they didn’t even have the fucking decency to close the curtains.  Charlie stood outside for a few seconds and simply watched them sleep, his harsh breaths fogging up the window and blocking his view.  Michael had an arm wrapped protectively around Tara, his face cradled in her neck and hair.  Idiots didn’t even lock the fucking balcony door, she must have wanted him to come in and save her.  

Tara felt warm and heavy wrapped in the blanket and Michael’s arms, could feel his chest rise and fall against her bare back, the soft cotton of his briefs rubbing against her ass.  She was so content she didn’t even register the sound of breathing until something cold and metal was pressed onto her shoulder.  Her eyes blinked open and Tara felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on her.  

Charlie Hesketh stood above her.  A gun hanging limply by his side.

“Hello, love.  Miss me? I missed you so much, Tara.  So fucking much.”

She was frozen in place, only able to stare up at him before he pressed the barrel of the gun into Michael’s arm and shoved, stirring him awake.

“Oi, oi!  What the fuck, who are you?”  Michael was up immediately his intimidating stature not seeming to be effective on the just as tall man standing in his girlfriend’s bedroom.

“Charlie, mate.  Now, I need you to get the fuck out of here and stay away from my fiancé.”

“Fiance?  Listen mate you better get the fuck out of here because I won’t call the police I’ll just kick your ass.”  He hadn’t seemed to notice the gun, Charlie needed to fix that.

There was a quiet pop! A bullet grazing Michael’s calf and embedding itself into the drywall.  She’d never get back the security deposit back.

“Ah fuck!  Fuck! You fucking shot me!”

Tara was sitting up now, heart pounding in her ears, everything was happening in slow motion.  

“GET OUT!”  It came out as a guttural roar barely sounding human as he shot two more bullets into the floorboard near Michael’s feet.

And he did.  Michael, the one she thought was her saving grace to make her life better, half crawled half ran out the bedroom and the front door leaving nothing but a trail of blood and his dignity behind.  She wasn’t able to mourn his abandonment for long because a hand wrapped around her upper arm and tried yanking her up.  Only for Tara to clutch the sheets to her chest and fall to the floor at his feet where the barrel of the gun was pressed to her head.

“I could handle you leaving.  Even lying about me in court to get that fucking restraining order!  And- and- and then, oh then you have to go and fucking post about him all over social media like a fucking whore.  You did it on purpose, didn’t you?  Hmm? To fucking lure me back here.”  He was bent down now, his mouth pressed against her hair.  The smell of scotch, sweat, and two day old after shave permeating around him.

“N-no, no.  Charlie, please.  Please stop, honey don’t do this-“  Tara tried breathing, a panic attack beginning to tighten her chest and make her dry heave. Memories suddenly getting jumbled together-

“Charlie honey, please don’t do this.”  Tara was cornered in the kitchen crying, terrified of the ceramic bowl Charlie was holding in his hand.  Other dishes were broken into pieces on the floor.

“I ask you to do one thing for me.  One!”

“Charlie, it’s 5 fucking dishes!  The world isn’t going to end if I leave 5 dishes in the sink until after dinner!  Stop being such a fucking psycho!”  The bowl he was holding suddenly connected with the nice oak cabinets next to her head as he advanced on her.

“Don’t ever fucking call me that again.  Do you have any idea what I do for you?  I let you live with me in this gorgeous house that you could never afford to stay in otherwise in your pathetic fucking life.”

Tara didn’t back down from him.  She was tired of this, “you can’t afford this either. Your parents pay for this house you spoiled little brat!  You don’t do anything!”

It suddenly felt like her eye and ear had exploded, she forgets how large Charlie’s palm is sometimes.  How much of her face it can cover when he slaps her.  The blood vessels in her eye would be popped the next day, that isn’t something you can hide with make up…

“I don’t do anything?  I don’t do anything?”  His hands suddenly around her throat, thumbs crisscrossing against her wind pipe and fingers meeting at the nape of her neck., “you don’t do anything.  You’re lucky I even fucking looked at you, you’re so lucky to be with ME you useless fucking-”

Whatever he had said after that faded into blackness as he squeezed harder and pressed her into the counter-

“I said stand up!”  He was standing again, screaming at her as she sobbed on the floor.

She tried to stand, but fell back to the floor her legs too weak, “I-I can’t.  Charlie, please-”

“Is that all you can say to me?”  He went back to squatting in front of her, his eyes raw from crying, the tears running down his face freely. “Please?  Fucking please!”

He grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked her head back as he stood. The gun suddenly pressed right under her chin and Tara began to scream.  Charlie didn’t seem to mind and yelled over her.

“I begged you not to leave!  I said I would take therapy, counseling whatever the fuck you wanted and you still left me!  Why should I listen to your begging, Tara?  Why?  I should just do it.  I can you know, I do it for a living because unlike you in your little fucking office job I actually help the world.  I kill people every single day and you’d be no different.”

“No no no no no.  I’m sorry, I’ll stay I’ll marry you.  Whatever you want honey.  I’m sorry I was so stupid-”

“Shut up!”  His vocal cords tore even more, curls stuck to his forehead from sweat, “It’s better this way.  For both of us-”

It was happening.  He going to do it.  Tara stared up at her ceiling and closed her eyes, praying for something, anything.

“I love you.  M’ sorry it had to come to this.”

“Charlie, no!”

His finger flexed around the trigger as several beams of light suddenly shone on him accompanied by screaming.

“Drop it!  Drop the fucking gun or I will drop you!  Step away from her, hands on your head!  I said hands on your fucking head pretty boy!”

After an officer had Charlie’s cheek smashed into the hardwood floor he saw Michael run into the bedroom, a paramedic chasing after him, and slide to the floor by Tara’s side.  He had gone to get help.  Of fucking course.  

He had sweated out all the scotch, it left behind a pounding headache.

~

Merlin was in sweats and a stained tshirt when he picked up Charlie a few hours later at the station.  The Scotsman looked fucking livid.

“Kingsman resources.  Ye used kingsman resources to stalk your ex-girlfriend.  Charlie do ye have any fucking idea how many strings, how many cover ups I have to do to fix this.  Anyone else would have left ye in that cell.  Harry- fuck, Arthur is not to know about this, ye hear me?  Don’t open your fucking mouth at all.”

Charlie’s forehead laid against the car window. He felt like shit. Being berated by the only authority figure he ever looked up to in his life didn’t help.

“I don’t know what to do, Merlin.  I didn’t have anyone else to call.  You helped me with the anger management stuff I just…”

“We’re putting you in therapy.”

“No-”

Merlin suddenly turned the wheel, sending the car into a dead end street with no cars and slamming on the brake.

“You just ruined someone’s life.  All you fuckin’ posh brats don’t seem to understand what that means. Charles, you put a gun to a civilian’s throat and threatened her life.  Startin’ tomorrow you’re going to therapy and I’m putting you on mental recuperation leave until you’re safe to go out on missions.  You’re gonna be on Manor arrest until I can trust ye not to try this again.”

Merlin’s age was showing as he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to look at the young agent by his side who had started to cry, his face still turned towards the window.

~

It had been a month or so now.  Tara honestly hadn’t been counting.  Too busy moving her things into Michael’s place, he was with her every step of the way now.  Through the therapy, the crying, the nightmares.  Sometimes it was both of them waking up at night in a cold sweat, Michael’s calf burning from the memory of the bullet.

But it was getting better.

It was a sunny day for once.  A breeze blowing through the open window as Tara folded some linen to put in the hall closet, smiling at the thought of baby blankets in there one day. She was distracted from the daydream by a faint meow and looked down to see a much fatter Niko staring up at her like he had never been gone.

“Niko!  Baby!” The cat purred in her arms as she held him noticing the new collar with a golden sideways K on it.  The same symbol on the letterheads that announced they would be paying off any debt she owed.  

It always came down to power and money, didn’t it?  Just another thing to be swept under the rug.

[kingsman-fam]

The Littlest Kingsman [ 2 ]

Merlin & Child!Reader (with Harry and Eggsy)

[ Part 1 - 2 ]

Words: 2,315

Warnings: Zilch ! Just pure fluff !

Disclaimer: I don’t own Kingsman!

Tags: @sammysgirl1997​ A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for such a great reception! I didn’t expect this fic to really take off, but you are all so lovely, it’s amazing!

This is the second chapter where we finally meet Harry! I hope you all like it! Please let me know what you think!

Without further ado, enjoy! \ (^ u ^) /

“Lovely day for a stroll,” Eggsy began by ways of introduction as he approached the bench; playing the role of a gentleman quite well, even without his bespoke suit. “Fancy meeting you here, Merlin.”

“Good afternoon to you too Eggsy,” replied the older man, unsurprised. “Do take a seat.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” the younger agent said, plopping himself down on the empty seat next to the quartermaster. With mannered introductions and niceties out of the way, Eggsy was quick to voice the queries that were piquing his curiosity.

“Why’d ya never tell me you had a kid, bruv?” “Because I don’t,” Merlin replied wryly. “(Name) right there is my niece.“

"Oh…” Eggsy breathed in understanding, leaning back in his seat. “You babysi'in then?” “She spends her weekends and breaks with me at ‘arry’s house,” Merlin replied, smirking at the sight of his niece who continued to expand her excavation plot - defacing the otherwise beautifully maintained greenery. Eggsy eyebrows furrowed at the Scotsman’s words. “Wait, so Harry knows 'bout her then?” Merlin opened his mouth to answer, but before he could respond, a high-pitched shriek cut sharply through the air.

Merlin searched for the accident that may have caused the wail, while Eggsy was in search of the banshee. Surely no human was capable of such a sound? Both of them, however, found no such thing. All they found was a dirt-covered (Name) jumping in excitement whilst clutching a bottle cap in each hand.   Before either Merlin or Eggsy could blink, the said girl broke off into a run and all but barreled into the bench they sat on. From his current vantage point, Eggsy could finally distinguish her features.   Her face was painted with mud and the occasional leaf blade, while her (Hair Color) hair was dirty in most places. She definitely needed a good scrubbing down; preferably with a fresh pair of clothes afterwards.

Despite all of this, however, her smile could very easily shame the sun. Merlin noticed none of this as he immediately surveyed the little girl’s head, arms, legs and torso, checking for potential injuries as the child in his grasp squirmed with energy. “Unca’ Hamish, I found two!” she exclaimed proudly - holding up both a Pepsi and a Coke cap. “They were both in the same spot!” Eggsy nearly snorted at her use of the older agent’s name. Sure, he had known it beforehand - Merlin accidentally revealing the moniker at a Christmas party in a moment of inebriation - but to hear it used oh-so-casually was more than a little amusing.

“That’s fantastic (Name),” Merlin remarked absentmindedly, still giving the young girl a thorough do-over. True, she didn’t really hit the bench that hard, but he would like to make sure of that himself thank you very much.

“I’m fine,” she assured, batting the older man’s probing hands away. The agent grumbled but stopped nonetheless. He then proceeded to help the girl pick which cap would be a better gift for her “Unca’ Harry”. As the little girl chatted away about ’but Unca’ Harry likes blue not red!’, Eggsy spotted a familiar figure making their way towards them. Harry - in his usual pinstriped double-breast - silently approached the little girl from behind.   Eggsy opened his mouth, ready to greet his mentor and offer him a seat. Harry, however, raised a finger to his lips, eyebrows raised conspiratorially while mischief twinkled in his good eye. Eggsy quickly snapped his mouth shut and was quite eager to be the spectator to whatever would transpire. Merlin also raised his eyes from his oblivious niece to his old friend and smirked knowingly. “-but the red one’s a lot cleaner,” (Name) continued. “The blue one’s all cracked but you only see it if you look really hard but still- AH!” The girl nearly jumped out of her skin when two much larger hands gently planted themselves on her eyes. Once she got over her initial shock though, (Name) grinned so widely Eggsy was certain it must have hurt.   “Hello Miss (Name),” Harry whispered in her ear, a smile gracing his features. With a joyful cry of “Unca’ Harry!”, the girl promptly launched herself into him - small arms instantly looping around the older man’s neck. A quiet laugh bubbled in Harry’s chest as he scooped the girl up into a hug - Eggsy looking on at the scene in wonder. “That is no way to greet a gentleman, (Name),” said Harry, his eye shining in amusement. Suddenly aware of her error, the girl straightened her back in Harry’s arms, looked him in the eye and dipped her head almost regally. “Good afternoon Mr. Unca’ Harry.” The older man smiled at her words and nodded his head in approval. “Very good,” he laughed. “You ought to remember your manners, (Name). What’s our favorite rule?” “I can have ice cream for brek-fuss but only when Unca’ Hamish isn’t looking.” “Y-yes, well…” Harry laughed nervously. “I was rather hoping that would remain our little secret, (Name).” Harry hoped Merlin had been out of earshot for their conversation, but seeing as he was sat not three feet away and was currently glaring daggers at him, there was a very slim chance of that.   'We are talking about this later ye twat.’ Resigning himself to the inevitable tongue-lashing, Harry simply returned his gaze the little girl in his arms. She looked at him expectantly - waiting for the confirmation that her answer had been right, and completely oblivious to the fate she had doomed him to. “That’s not quite it,” Harry said gently as the six-year-old pouted. “Try again. It’s 'Manners-” “Manners makef man!” “Exactly.” As the little girl beamed in Harry’s arms, Merlin thought it best to remind her of a very important fact that she seemed to have forgotten. “(Name), don’t you 'ave a certain something to give yer Uncle 'arry?” “Oh right! Right!” she replied in haste, then quickly turned to Harry. Without further ado, she opened her small hands to reveal the two innocent bottle caps that had seemingly been forgotten. “Do you want both of 'em?” she asked the older man who was inspecting each cap with amusement. “You see this one’s a little dirtier but this one has a crack that’s really tiny. I found 'em both at the same time over there but if you take both then Unca’ Hamish would be upset 'cus that wouldn’t be fair and I gots 'ta find-” “Breathe, (Name).” “-Find him anotha’ one but I’m really tired but I don’t want one of the caps to feel left out.” Harry chuckled lightly, and after making a show of weighing his options, he took the blue cap from her hand. “I’d like this one please,” he said, and placed the cap in his trouser pocket. (Name) grinned so radiantly at the acceptance of the gift she worked so very hard to find, that Harry could not prevent his own. It felt good to be the cause of such smiles; and over something so simple. Afterwards, the girl quickly shot a smug look over to her uncle who watched the proceedings with a smirk. ’I told you Unca’ Harry liked blue better.’ However, (Name)’s expression quickly morphed from one of smug victory to one of distress. “But wait!” she cried. “The red one’s going ta feel left out!” Merlin couldn’t help but smile at this. Leave it to his niece to consider the feeling of a dirty plastic cap. He knew, however, that the little girl was well and truly stressing over this little ordeal, and he racked his mind for a solution.   He found it in the form of the young man sitting beside him who - miraculously - had not made a sound from the moment the interactions had started.   Come to think it of, it had been ungentlemanly of him to leave Eggsy out of the conversation. Merlin wasn’t even sure if his niece was aware of the younger agent’s presence at all.   Well he’d have to rectify that, now, wouldn’t he? “Say lass, why don’t you give the other cap to Eggsy here?” Harry hummed in agreement.   “That’s actually a very good idea.” Harry then turned to the child in his arms. “(Name), wouldn’t you like to give the other cap to Eggsy?” In response, the girl took one look at the man her uncles were referring to, then quickly hid her face in the crook of Harry’s neck. Eggsy tried not to look too disappointed. He did try to smile at the child in the same way he did for Daisy’s friends, and they usually opened up to him after that.

As if he had voiced his disappointments, Merlin leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Don’t take it too personally, Eggsy. She’s shy when it comes to new people. She’ll come 'round, just you wait.” “-do you think, Merlin? Merlin?” At the call of his name, the tech-savvy wizard turned to his friend who had apparently been seeking his attention. “Beg your pardon,” he apologized quickly. “I didn’t quite catch tha’ last bit. You were saying?“ “I was saying it will be dark soon, and I’d very much prefer that we arrive home before nightfall.” “Aye, you’re right,” the older man agreed - looking at the sky whose blue hue had the faintest tinges of orange creeping at its edges. Just then (Name) quietly spoke into Harry’s ear, who seemed to agree with whatever she had just said. “Well, why don’t you ask him yourself, (Name)?“ The (Hair Color)-haired girl replied with a whisper that was too soft to catch; her words, however, caused Harry to laugh softly. “No, don’t worry,” the older gentleman assured. “Eggsy is perfectly friendly. I do believe he has a sister just a bit older than you, my dear.” The small child looked back at Eggsy - as if to inspect him once more - but quickly buried her face in Harry’s suit when she caught him already looking at the pair intently. “Now now,” Harry tutted. “A Kingsman does not shy away from challenges, (Name). Go on. You can do it. Remember when I taught you what needs to be said?“

Those words seemed to spur her into action. The girl took a deep breath and steeled herself for the challenge to come.  

Her uncle was right. She was a Kingsman. She would not shy away from something so simple as asking the friendly stranger - “Eggsy” apparently - to join them in their evening meal. And the young man had been nothing but pleasant. A gentleman knew to reward good manners.

Gathering what bravery she had, (Name) took a deep breath, and before her courage could falter, nodded to her uncle who set her down.

Both Harry and Merlin smiled at her encouragingly as she approached Eggsy - the likes of whom was kind enough to kneel on the ground to be level with the small child and seem a little less intimidating.

She took one last glance at her uncles, then squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and looked every bit as gentlemanly as one could. “Ple-sher to meet you,” she began - speaking with the accent most children had, as if the large words crowded her small mouth. “We haven’t been properly introduced. My name is (Name).” She then held out her hand to shake, which Eggsy took happily. It was quite amusing to see a child her age so well-mannered - no small thanks, he guessed, to her uncles. “Eggsy,” he replied with a friendly smile. It seemed to have the desired effect when she began to relax in his presence. “I was wond’ring,” she continued a bit more confidently. “Would you do us the ho-ner of joining us for dinner tonight?“ Eggsy positively beamed at the invitation - the girl managing a shy smile of her own. “The honor would be mine,” he replied with a small dip of his head. The girl seemed to sigh in relief - her shoulders loosing their tension, and her frame its stiffness. Formality out of the way, (Name) shyly held out the red bottle cap to Eggsy.

A small token of friendship.

The young agent felt his heart melt as he took the dirty cap, and now understood how Merlin could not bear to deny such a gift. It was such a simple display of innocence - something physical and concrete to show that she was quite willing to get to know him more.

It felt even better to see the guarded hope in the girl’s eyes - (did she really think he would reject her?) - transform into mirth at his acceptance. As Eggsy observed the piece of plastic, (Name) ran into Merlin’s arms, searching for the warmth and security her uncle never failed to provide after such an ordeal. The Scott, in turn, continued to congratulate his niece on a job well done - declaring that neither he nor Harry could have managed such a fine proposal. To this, of course, Harry had also agreed. “Well it’s nearly sunset,” Harry reminded them all. “Shall we get going?” “Let’s,” Merlin replied, (Name) still secure in his arms. “Come along Eggsy.“ Eggsy got up from the ground and brushed the dirt off his pants. He would deal with the stains later. He fell into step with Harry as the group left the premises of the park, the other people also beginning to pack up. As their footsteps quietly pattered against the sidewalk en route to the Hart home, Eggsy saw his mentor sporting an unusually fond smile. The type that made the agent’s face soften and brighten ever so slightly - making him look younger than he was. Curious to know what had caused such an expression, he followed the older man’s line of sight, and afterwards could not prevent a broad grin of his own.   Because few paces ahead of the mentor/mentee pair, Merlin walked with his usual long strides - his niece looking quite happy, perched securely upon her uncle’s shoulders.

[msilet]

Hello, Beloved Husband (2/3)

Summary: Harry and Eggsy finally find Merlin lying in a coma in Thailand. Harry uses his marital status with Merlin to gain visiting right.

Ship: Harry Hart/Merlin

Chapter: 2 / 3

Link to chapter 1: http://msilet.tumblr.com/post/167977795700/hello-beloved-husband

Link to chapter 3: http://msilet.tumblr.com/post/168964840325/hello-beloved-husband-33

Link to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12853176/chapters/29435082

Note: I told myself I would just write a small epilogue with the proposal and the wedding. 2500+ words later and I still have no wedding. That will have to be in chapter 3.

Chapter behind the cut

It has been 3 months since they brought Merlin back to the UK. The Kingsman doctors have assured him that Merlin is healing nicely and he should be up and about in the foreseeable future. Whiskey came over last month to examine Merlin and assured Harry that things are going remarkably well.

Another great news is that they located both Lancelot and Percival alive. Roxy had a lot of her bones broken and sustained a few fractures on her skull due to the building collapsing on her panic room but there was nothing their doctors could not mend. Martin was extremely lucky to escape completely unscathed thanks to not being home. He was on a mission and only routed his communication via his house to encrypt it. Martin was the one finding and bringing Roxy in. Eggsy, Harry, Martin and even Roxy in her temporary wheelchair take turn looking over Merlin so that the others can be away to attend to personal and Kingsman business.

Harry would like nothing more than to spend time at the temporary HQ with all the people closest to him but Kingsman has to come first. At the moment he is up in Scotland to oversee the construction of the new Kingsman distillery and below it, the Scottish base. They have decided to decentralize so that all of them can no longer be wiped out at once anymore. The tailor shop is being rebuilt as well as the original HQ, this time with state of the art defense systems. Harry sighs, when it comes to technologies, he would have loved to have the opinion and skills of his wizard. He does hope Merlin will be up soon and help him out because sometimes, all these tech stuff confound him.

Suddenly, Harry's glasses beep. Right after he turns it on he hears Eggsy yelling breathlessly, as if he's running from a stampede, into the mic, "Harry! Harry! Back to HQ! I'm on my way!"

"Eggsy, what's wrong?", he panics slightly, "Are we getting attacked? Is everyone alright?"

"No! No, nothin' like that!", Eggsy sounds like he does not slow down, "Roxy called! Merlin's up! He opened his eyes!"

Harry is speechless for a moment, then he starts running too. "Eggsy, where are you right now? Can you get to him soon?"

"Yeah, Harry, 'm in London, can be there in less than 30 minutes!"

"Good, tell Merlin I'm on my way. I'll find the fastest way possible even if I'll have to fly the helicopter myself!"

"Harry! You only have one eye, if you fly that helicopter I swear to God Merlin's gonna kill you himself!"

"That would require him being able to kill me first!"

"Harry, bruv, I will help him kill you if you fly that helicopter, call the pilot! Now I've got to go, bye!"

3 hours later

Harry walks to the hospital wing, a bloody long walk if you ask him. He can even hear Merlin taunting late again, Sir in his head. All his grand idea of being there when Merlin wakes up not only went up in flames but now he is late for his own husband finally coming back to the living world. Not that he is displeased, he's beyond happy but deep down there's a little pettiness, just a little. He was there the whole day yesterday. As he approaches Merlin's room, he sees Eggsy wheeling Roxy out. Eggsy's face lights up when he sees Harry. "About damn time, Harry. What took you so long?"

"Had to make a detour for something. Am I the last one?"

Eggsy grins mischievously and says "Nah Harry, lucky for you, Percival is still in mainland Europe!"

Harry exhales, "Well thank God for small favours."

Eggsy, and by extent, Roxy, moves closer to Harry. Roxy tells him "Merlin is still awake, come inside and talk to him before he falls asleep again, Arthur." Eggsy nods and continues Roxy's words, "She's right and I figure you've got lots to talk about, yeah? Good luck!" and then off they go.

Harry stands alone in front of the door, wondering why he is so hesitant. The adrenaline level he has been running on is now dropping low and all kinds of irrational doubts float to the forefront of his mind. What if this is a dream and when he pushes that door open he will see Merlin still in a coma or worse, dead? He had nightmares like that before.

"You coward, get a grip on yourself", he mumbles to himself. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open.

The sight that greets him makes him tear up. It is really his dear Hamish sitting on the bed with pillows propped up behind him. As Merlin sees Harry, he smiles. His smile is slightly tired but genuine and that is definitely the greatest sight Harry has ever seen. "Hello, Galahad.", Merlin greets him with the familiar line. It is their thing; the sentence sounds completely professional to others but holds so much meaning for them.

"Hello, beloved husband. It is Arthur now.", Harry can't help but says as he walks over to Merlin's side as quick as possible, feeling like he is floating on cloud nine.

"Oh, my. Please forgive me, Your Majesty. I would have loved to stand up and greet you properly but…", Merlin gestures to his legs sarcastically.

Harry does not say anything, just silently raises his hands to touch Merlin's face while staring into his eyes. "Hamish…", he manages to choke out, his voice breaking.

"Harry…", Merlin only manages before Harry pulls him into a tight hug. He can feel Harry shaking.

"You're back, you're really back, alive, in my arms.", Harry says between sobs, still clinging onto Merlin.

Despite being in pain, Merlin lifts his bandaged arms up and wraps them around Harry, holding him close. "I'm here, Harry. It seems our time together isn't at an end yet."

"You are damn right it isn't. If I have my way, it won't be over for a long time.", Harry's voice is muffled by Merlin's shirt but audible.

"Yes, Your Majesty.", Merlin chuckles.

After a while, calmed down, Harry realizes that he is still holding onto Merlin tightly, too tightly in fact, that he might be hurting him. He pulls back and asks, "Did I hurt you? Sorry, I was quite overwhelmed." When Merlin shakes his head, Harry lets out a sigh of relief. He sits down on the chair next to the bed and smiles shyly at Merlin. "How do you feel, Hamish?"

"It hurts all over and I still feel pain where my legs used to be but I am happy to be alive and have my mind intact."

"No Kingsman test for you then", Harry grins, his eye watery.

"Fucking hell, no, Harry.", Merlin grins back. Both of them then just sit together in silence for a few moments. Harry uses this time to collect his thoughts and muster up some ideas of what to say next.

"Look, Hamish, there is something very important I need to tell you right now."

"I just woke up from a coma, Harry, can't it wait a few days?"

Harry hesitates but then looks at Merlin, pleading. "I made a promise when I found you in Thailand that I would do this the moment you come back to me. Indulge me, please?"

"Well then, Harry, what is it?", Merlin is fully curious.

"I remember that you love John Denver now, amongst other artists."

Merlin laughs uneasily "Well that's good, Harry, but I don't see why it's so important that you need to say it today."

"Please just let me finish. I am nervous enough as it is."

"Alright, go ahead."

"Hamish, I told Eggsy that when I was shot, loneliness and regret was all I felt, I had no one. That was not true. I did not want to tell the truth because I knew you could hear me. I did not want you to know that while I was filled with regret, it was because of all the things I wanted to say to you and experience with you. I lied about having nobody because I did not want to explain everything to Eggsy and take the focus away from him and Tilde. I was also still slightly confused and did not wish to deal with complicated matters while not operating at full mental capacity. That was a shit decision. When that mine went off, it was the worst moment of my life, much worse than when I thought I was about to die. I had to watch the most important person to me on this earth getting killed without being able to even shed a tear."

"The 6 months that you were missing, I could not go a moment without thinking of you, of what we could have had. You haunted me even in my sleep, saying I failed you. I didn't know how you could do it the 2 years before. Maybe you were better at controlling your emotions, maybe I didn’t mean as much to you as you do to me, I don't know, but I don't care anymore. You are here, now, and it's all that matters."

Taking advantage of a shocked Merlin, Harry pulls out a box from his suit pocket and gets down on one knee, looking up at Merlin. He opens the box, revealing a platinum ring with intricate patterns on the sides.

"I bought this ring before the day we signed our civil partnership document but only now can I do this properly. I love you, Hamish Andrew Ferguson, will you marry me? I mean, for real this time. I promise I would do everything in my power to make sure you are always loved, cherished and happy."

Harry waits for an answer but after a while, none was given. Merlin looks like he has frozen and become a statue. Reluctantly, Harry says, "Well this is the part where you either say yes, try to let me down gently or laugh at my face. This silence is not doing my heart any favour."

Merlin opens his mouth, then closes it, blinks, then open his mouth again but no sound comes out. Seeing Harry nearing a heart attack, he says, "Excuse me, Harry. It's not every day a man wakes up from a 9-month-long coma to a marriage proposal, I need time to process the information."

Harry deflates, all bravado leaving his body. He knows the request is definitely reasonable and he should not be demanding an answer immediately but he'd be lying if he did not dream of Merlin saying yes right away and then they share some sort of true love's kiss and everything would be right as rain, damn hopeless romantic that he is. He tries to smile, "Sure, love. You must be tired, you should rest. I'm sorry for springing it upon you so soon. It just feels wrong, keeping secrets between us any longer, life is too precious for that." Harry stands up and is about to turn around to the door but Merlin reaches a hand out to stop him. "Harry, sit down." Years of conditioning makes Harry obey Merlin's order without thinking. Merlin is looking at Harry now while Harry is staring down at his hands, still holding the box.

"Did you mean it?", Merlin broke the silence.

"Everything.", Harry does not look up.

"I am crippled now, Harry. Look at me, I'm going to be a burden on everyone. Are you really sure about this?"

"Sweetheart, granted, your long legs were so sinful they should have been illegal but they aren't the only reason why I love you. Without them, you are not a burden. Whatever your answer shall be, I will be there to help you through all this, even when you get mad at me, shout at me or tell me to fuck off. I love all of you, just as you are, regardless of circumstances."

"Since when?"

Harry chuckled dryly, "I don't know? I can't pinpoint an exact moment that made me fall in love with you. There were so many moments, across so many years that before I knew it, the only one I could have asked that day was you."

"Th…That day, it wasn't just for professional reasons?"

"No, I was just trying to find any reason to get you to say yes. Figured if I sounded too desperate I'd scared you off.", Harry smiles uneasily.

And then Merlin does something Harry does not expect at all, he giggles. "Oh God", Harry sighs, looking up at Merlin, "you are laughing at me. May I get an explanation as to why?"

"You are an idiot," Merlin signals Harry to let him finish speaking before getting upset, "and so am I."

"What does that even mean?"

"The answer is yes."

"That makes no sense! You just answered yes to a 'what' que...", Harry trails off, and then his eye widens, "Yes?"

Merlin still has a smile on his face. "Yes, I will marry you."

Now it is Harry's turn to be speechless. He just sits and stares at Merlin. "Y...yes.", he repeats.

The giggles are back. "Harry Hart, speechless. What a sight to see. To be quite honest, I expected you to be livelier."

And then Merlin finds himself with an armful of Harry Hart, crashing hard enough onto him that he has the air knocked out of his lungs. "Ouch, that hurts."

Harry is hyperventilating, he babbles, "You said yes. You said yes! Oh my God you said yes"

Merlin pats his back then slowly rubs it. "Would have said yes if you asked me like this then, too. I've been in love with you since our second year together as agent-handler. You were under serious hostile fire and yet still managed to steal that rare Star Wars action figure and brought it back unscathed for me as a souvenir just because you heard me talking about liking the series once in passing. To be absolutely honest with you, I would have said yes right that moment."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Many reasons, I guess. First, it was not professional. Being a handler and falling for your agent is both cliché and dangerous, not even counting it being bad for the team environment. What if people accuse me of favouring you? What if you don't reciprocate and then it would be awkward and hinder the missions. Not only that, Arthur was an old judgemental prick that would have given us hell if he suspected anything. Second, you are the Harry Hart, you could have had anyone you'd liked. I'm the plain Scottish nerd with shit upbringing and I spend too much time with books and computers. Figured I should have been contented with being friends with benefits. And then you asked me to enter the civil partnership and I jumped at the chance to take what I could get without asking too many questions.”

"We have been idiots, we wasted so much time." Harry sniffles, while his face is still buried against Merlin's shoulder.

"I cried so much the day I came to empty your safe after V-Day. I found the ring, you know, I had so many questions. What did you mean by buying this, why did you not give it to me, was it even for me. I thought I would never have a chance to know anymore. I shut myself off emotionally and carried on. Kingsman, especially Eggsy, needed me. Helping him accomplishing the vision you had for him was a way to keep you in my heart. Sometimes I dream of you proposing to me and us getting married somewhere beautiful in Scotland surrounded by our friends and I let myself indulge a little in that fantasy during the late hours at night before getting back to the missions in the morning. When we found you, you couldn't remember and then you did but not really, I was devastated but if you asked me to let you go, I would have."

"Please don't ever let me go. I won't let you go, Hamish. And it is not a fantasy anymore. I love you, I want to marry you and I'd do anything for you."

"I love you too, Harry", Merlin says, a tear rolling down his face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, Harry, you can kiss me."

Harry lifts his head up, cups Merlin's face with his hands and leans his face in closer, then Merlin meets him halfway. The kiss was full of love and longing and although no magic happens, Merlin's legs don't get magically healed, Harry is pretty sure it is True Love's Kiss.

Footnote:

Well yeah Hamish is a little easily persuaded but I would probably marry someone who gets me a rare expensive Batman action figure too. I chose the name Martin for Percival because I love Lywinis and bearfeathers stories so much, this is a little tribute.